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卷五十一 賈鄒枚路傳

Volume 51: Jia, Zou, Mei and Lu

Chapter 60 of 漢書 ✓ Translated
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Chapter 60
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1
Volume 51: Biographies of Jia, Zou, Mei, and Lu, the twenty-first scroll.
2
Jia Shan came from Yingchuan. His grandfather Qu had been a doctoral student in the days of the former King of Wei. Shan studied under Qu; his learning ranged widely over writings and records, so he never became a narrow, textbook Confucian. He once served as a mounted attendant to the Marquis of Yingyin.
3
Under Emperor Wen he set forth how states rise and fall, using Qin as his cautionary tale, in a work he called "Words to the Utmost". The piece begins:
4
They say a good minister gives his ruler honest counsel even at the cost of his life; Your Majesty, that minister is myself, Shan. I will not weary you with distant ages; let Qin be my mirror. I ask only that Your Majesty give this a moment’s careful thought.
5
使 滿使 西 殿殿西 使 使 使
The man in homespun and a leather belt polishes his character at home and wins repute abroad, and his line does not die out. Under Qin, nothing of the kind was true. Qin’s ruler sat as Son of Heaven and owned the world, yet he piled tax after tax on the people until they were broken, russet-clad convicts choked the highways, and robbers swarmed the hills; everyone in the realm watched and listened in dread. When one man raised a cry and the whole realm answered—that was Chen Sheng. Nor did Qin stop there: from Xianyang west to Yong stood three hundred detached palaces, complete with bells and drums, curtains and canopies, all kept ready without ever being visited. They raised the halls of Epang—scores of ren in height, five li east to west and a thousand paces north to south—with chariots and riders massed in ranks, four-horse teams racing like wildfowl, and banners that never furled. Palace splendor went so far that his descendants could not have found room to pitch a single hut among it all. Imperial highways ran to every corner—east to Yan and Qi, south to Wu and Chu—until every famous view along the great rivers and the coast was stitched into one network. Each road was fifty paces across; pines were planted every three zhang, the embankments rammed solid and studded with metal pegs. The highways were glorified to a point where later generations could hardly set foot on a side path. His tomb at Mount Li consumed tens of thousands of laborers and convicts for ten years on end. They sank shafts to the three underground streams, fused copper to line the vault, and sealed the outer shell with cinnabar lacquer, then draped the work in pearls and jade and kingfisher inlay until the middle was a pleasure gallery and the top a miniature forest; burial luxury went so far that later generations could not have afforded even a pebble’s shelter for their own graves. Qin used brute force and a predator’s appetite to pick off the nobles and swallow the realm, all the while spurning ritual and right—so Heaven’s punishment was already upon it. I risk my life to lay this before you; I beg Your Majesty to weigh it with care.
6
使
A loyal minister’s dilemma is this: blunt truth may cost him his life, yet softened speech cannot illuminate the Way. That is why a wise ruler hungers for blunt counsel, and why a true minister will face death to give it. On barren ground even the finest seed will not take. Along riverbanks even poor seed grows thick and tall. At the fall of Xia and Shang, men as worthy as Guan Longpeng, Jizi, and Bigan perished while their counsel went unused. Under King Wen every able man could offer his wit and even the woodcutter his strength—that is how the house of Zhou flourished. Rich soil feeds good grain; a humane ruler feeds good men. What the thunderbolt strikes is shattered. What ten thousand jun crushes is ground to dust. A ruler’s majesty is more terrible than any thunderbolt. The weight of his authority exceeds any ten thousand jun. Even when a ruler invites advice with an open road and a kindly face, and promotes those who speak truly, men still tremble and hold back—let alone when he gives free rein to cruelty and loathes any word of his faults. Threaten them with terror and crush them with power, and not even a Yao or Shun in wisdom, a Meng Ben in courage, could avoid being broken. Then the ruler never hears his own errors. If he does not hear them, the altars are in peril. The ancient sage kings set it so: the scribe recorded misdeeds before the throne, craftsmen sang warnings, blind musicians sang corrective odes, nobles remonstrated in turn, rumor reached the court from scholars, commoners could speak on the road, and merchants argue in the market—only thus did a ruler learn his faults. He amended what he heard was wrong and embraced what he saw was right; that is how dynasties endure. The Son of Heaven is supreme: within the four seas all owe him subjection in principle. Yet he would feed the three elders in the Imperial Academy with his own hands on the sauce and cup, with attendants chanting warnings against choking before him and against gagging behind him, while nobles offered staffs and shoes and he summoned worthies to counsel him and upright men to speak plainly. Thus even Heaven’s Son honors the three elders—that is filial piety made visible. He sets up ministers to steady him—that is guarding against pride. He keeps plain-speaking advisers—that is fearing to miss his faults. That he would take counsel even from a wood-gatherer shows a ruler insatiable in seeking what is good. When merchants or commoners criticized him, he changed course; every good word found a hearing.
7
Once Qin’s armies had swallowed the feudal states and owned the wealth of the realm, it carved the old kingdoms into commanderies and counties and ran the Long Wall as its outer bolt. Qin’s terrain, its scale of forces, its weight in the balance—how could that be compared to the fortune of one clan or the muscle of a single man? Yet Chen She broke its armies and the house of Liu stripped its territory—why? The First Emperor was rapacious and cruel; he bled the realm and beggared the people to serve his appetites. Under the Zhou order there were said to be some eighteen hundred states; the nine provinces fed eighteen hundred rulers, corvée rarely exceeded three days a year, and the tithe was the rule—so the treasury stayed full, the people strong, and praise was heard. The First Emperor made the people of those eighteen hundred polities feed him alone, until strength could not bear his levies nor wealth his demands. One man’s body—and the hunting and racing he wanted could not be supplied by the whole empire. The overworked had no rest, the hungry no clothes or food, the innocent condemned had no appeal; every man nursed a grudge, every house a feud—so the realm collapsed. The world was already coming apart while the First Emperor still lived, and he never saw it. He toured the east as far as Kuaiji and Langya, cut inscriptions to boast his deeds, and imagined his line outshining Yao and Shun. He hung stone to cast bells and stands, piled earth for Epang, and believed his throne would last ten thousand generations. The ancient sage kings used posthumous names, yet lines ran only thirty or forty generations; even Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, and Wu, for all their piled virtue, handed down no more than twenty or thirty reigns. He declared that posthumous titles would let father and son share a style in turn; counting from one to ten thousand, no reign-name need ever repeat—hence he called himself First Emperor and his heir Second Emperor, as if he could count his line to infinity. He measured his merit and planned an endless succession, yet within months of his death the realm rose on every side and his ancestral temple was extinguished.
8
退 退 祿
How could he sit in the midst of ruin and not know it? Because no one in the realm dared tell him. Why did no one dare? There was no duty to care for elders, no ministers to steady him, no path for frank advice; he killed critics and silenced slander while flatterers compared him to Yao and Shun and rated his deeds above Tang and Wu—so the realm rotted while no voice warned him. The Classic of Poetry says: "It is not that they cannot speak—but why this dread? They answer when spoken to fair, yet shrink from slander." That is what is meant. It also says: "In such numbers stood the officers, and King Wen had peace." The world has never lacked able men—so why does the ode single out King Wen’s peace? Because King Wen loved humaneness, humaneness flourished; because he won men of talent and treated them with respect, they served him—and he employed them with ritual and right. Without genuine love and respect he cannot win their hearts. If he does not win their hearts, he will not have their full strength. Without their full strength he cannot complete his great work. So the wise kings of old honored rank and salary and drew their ministers near. If a minister fell ill, the ruler visited again and again; if he died, the ruler mourned, attended the successive shroudings, waited until the coffin was sealed, then donned mourning and thrice came to the rites. Until the corpse was laid out he took no wine or meat; until burial he ordered no music; if a death fell during an ancestral offering, the music ceased for him. Such was the ritual ancient rulers showed their ministers. He put on court dress, set his bearing, and composed his face. Only then did he receive them. Then no minister held back life or strength in repaying his lord, and their merit lived after them with an undying name.
9
使 使
Today Your Majesty remembers the ancestors, follows their achievements, and seeks to magnify a glorious rule; you have called for worthy and upright men across the realm, and the people rejoice, saying the ways of Yao and Shun and the three kings will rise again. Scholars everywhere polish themselves to answer that summoning virtue. Those upright men are already at court—yet Your Majesty picks the best among them for constant attendance and then rides and hunts with them, sometimes three sorties in a single day. I fear the court will grow lax, officials will neglect their duties, and when the regional lords hear of it they too will slacken in government.
10
使
In old times high ministers were not treated lightly, so a gentleman did not daily see their grave mien and reverent bearing. Keep great officers from idle feasting and hunts, and keep upright scholars from the chase; let each mind his station and lift his integrity, and the whole court will order person and conduct to match the great ritual. Then your way will be held in awe, your work will reach the four seas, and your descendants for ages will inherit it. If not, conduct rots day by day and glory fades. It pains me to see a man refine himself at home only to be undone in the imperial hall. Let Your Majesty sport with the many officials, but debate policy in court with your gravest ministers. Then pleasure need not cost dignity, audience need not cost ritual, and counsel need not cost good planning—that is the right way to govern.
11
Later, when Emperor Wen lifted the ban on private minting, Jia Shan again remonstrated, arguing that to alter the laws of the former emperors was wrong. He also urged that the King of Huainan had committed no grave offense and should be sent back to his kingdom at once. He also warned that Zhai Tangzi’s misconduct was enough to serve as a lesson. The document was returned with questions; he replied that money is useless in itself yet buys wealth and rank. Wealth and rank are the ruler’s levers; letting the common people mint is to share those levers with the throne, and that cannot last." His language was often blunt and pointed squarely at the issue, yet he was never punished—so the court kept the channels of debate open. Minting was later forbidden again, or so the record runs.
12
Zou Yang was a native of Qi. When the Han arose, each feudal king ruled his own people and recruited worthy men. King Liu Pi of Wu gathered wandering literati; Zou Yang served him alongside Yan Ji of Wu, Mei Sheng, and others, and they all won fame for their eloquence and letters. In time the King of Wu, nursing a grudge over the crown-prince affair, feigned illness and stayed away from court while plotting in secret and, on the surface, lodging memorials of remonstrance. Because the matter was still veiled, he would not name it outright; he opened with Qin as his mirror, then rehearsed the crises of the Hu, Yue, Qi, Zhao, and Huainan regions before he would speak his mind. The memorial runs:
13
使西
I have heard how Qin trusted its Curved Terrace bureaucracy, weighed the whole realm in its scales, drew its boundaries so that none might cross, and sent armies against the Hu and the Yue. Yet in its last days Zhang Er and Chen Sheng chained rebel bases together, beat on the Hangu barrier, and Xianyang itself trembled. Why? Because the commanderies did not stand together and the people could not rescue one another. Today the Hu raid again and again beyond the northern He; their dust hides the birds in the sky and the hare on the ground; siege works never rest nor do relief columns; the dead fall in windrows, grain carts stretch in an endless chain for a thousand li. Why? Zhao presses hard at Hejian, the Qi domains watch the house of Empress Hui, Chengyang casts its eye toward Lu and Bo, and the three Huainan lines ache for their old tombs. If Your Highness does not take alarm, I fear the allies will never act as one: Hu cavalry will press on Handan, Yue hulls will thread Changsha, and their fleets double back toward Qingyang. Even were Liang to join Huaiyang's hosts, sweep the Huai east, and cross Guangling to choke the Yue grain lines, the court could still wheel west of the great bend, hold the line on the Zhang, and stiffen the great kingdom—while the Hu push deeper and the Yue drive farther in. That, my lord, is the peril I see hanging over you.
14
They say when twin dragons rear and beat their wings, clouds stream out and rain gathers. When a sage king reins himself in and builds virtue, wandering scholars flock to his justice and hunger for a name. Were I to pour out every plan and polish every scheme, there is no kingdom I could not undermine. Were I to flatter a petty heart, there is no ruler's gate where I could not drag a long scholar's hem. Yet I have crossed many courts and left the Huai a thousand li behind not because I despise my home and love Wu's folk, but because I honor your reputation and am drawn above all to your sense of right. So I beg you not to brush this aside: read my meaning and hear me out.
15
西
A hundred common raptors do not match one eagle. When Zhao still stood intact, armored bravos thronged the Cong Terrace like a market in a single dawn, yet they could not spare King You of Zhao his doom. Huainan rallied the swordsmen east of the mountains and filled its halls with men sworn to die, yet it could not stop King Li's drive westward. When strategy fails, not even warriors like Zhu Hai and Meng Ben can hold their ground—that much is plain. I urge you, my lord, to weigh this counsel and stay your hand.
16
使 西
When Emperor Wen first came through the passes to take the throne, he woke in dread before dawn and groped for his robes. Once enthroned, he sent the lords of Dongmou and Zhuxu east to honor the house of Emperor Yi of Chu, carved away great domains, and set infants on those thrones. He enfeoffed younger sons on Liang and Dai and enlarged their domains with Huaiyang. In the end he destroyed the Prince of Jibei and caged his own brother at Yong—was that not the very trick of men like Xinyuan Ping? The present emperor has just inherited the old throne: he grips the east with one hand and the interior with the other, shifting leverage at will, and no one can tell what his high ministers intend. If you do not see this clearly, I fear the royal cauldron will pass to Han once more, another Xinyuan will overreach in court, and the house of Wu will have no heirs to count on. Gaozu burned the mountain roads, drowned Zhang Han's armies, never let his columns slow, rallied a spent people, raced east to Hangu, and shattered Western Chu. Zhang Han lost his cities to the flood, the King of Jing his lands to the blade—both were powers with no margin left. I beg you, my lord, to weigh this with care.
17
The King of Wu would not heed him.
18
Meanwhile Emperor Jing's younger brother, King Xiao of Liang, stood at the height of power and kept scholars about him. Zou Yang, Mei Sheng, and Yan Ji saw Wu was past persuasion and left for Liang to join King Xiao's circle.
19
Zou Yang was clever and bold, slow to compromise, and moved between Yang Sheng and Gongsun Gui. Sheng and his clique envied him and whispered slander to King Xiao. The king flew into a rage, threw Zou Yang to the jailers, and prepared to execute him. A wandering client seized on a whisper of malice, he faced death and a ruined name; from his cell he sent up this memorial:
20
使
They say loyalty always meets its reward and good faith never meets doubt—I used to believe it; I see now it was only a saying. When Jing Ke took up Prince Dan's cause, a white rainbow spanned the sun—yet the prince flinched. When Master Wei laid the Changping plan for Qin, Venus swallowed Mao—and King Zhao turned against him. Their sincerity shook heaven and earth, yet neither ruler could trust them—how bitter that is. I have given you my whole loyalty and every honest plan, yet those about you cannot see it; I end in the jailers' questions and the world calls me faithless. You would raise Jing Ke and Master Wei from the grave while Yan and Qin still slept on. I beg you, my lord, to look into this.
21
輿 使輿
The jade carver once offered a gem and the King of Chu had him killed. Li Si gave his utmost loyalty and received the cruelest death from Huhai. So Jizi played the madman and Jieyu fled the world, dreading that very fate. Study the jade carver's and Li Si's hearts, turn away from the ears of the King of Chu and of Huhai, and do not make me a laughingstock to Jizi and Jieyu. I had heard of Bigan's heart cut out and Wu Zixu sewn in a leather bag—I did not believe it; now I do. Look closely, my lord, and show a little mercy.
22
The proverb says some remain strangers though their hair turns white, while others are old friends from the moment their canopies touch. Why? Because one was known and the other was not. Fan Wuji fled Qin for Yan and lent Jing Ke his head to serve Prince Dan. Wang She left Qi for Wei and opened his own throat beneath the wall to drive Qi back and save Wei. Wang She and Fan Wuji were not newcomers to Qi and Qin nor strangers to Yan and Wei; they left two kingdoms and died for two lords because each man's deed matched his purpose and his love of right knew no limit. Su Qin was distrusted everywhere, yet for Yan he kept faith like Wei Sheng. Bai Gui lost six cities in war, then won Zhongshan back for Wei. Why? Because true understanding ran between them. When Su Qin served Yan as chancellor, men slandered him; the king gripped his sword in fury—then feasted him on the finest horses. When Bai Gui rose in Zhongshan, men maligned him to Marquis Wen of Wei, who then bestowed the luminous jade. Why? Those two rulers and two ministers trusted each other to the marrow—no idle rumor could move them.
23
In the harem beauty hardly matters: every woman meets envy. At court talent hardly matters: every man meets envy. Sima Xi was maimed in Song yet ended as minister of Zhongshan. Fan Ju had his ribs broken and his teeth smashed in Wei, yet rose to be Lord Ying. Both staked everything on a sure design, renounced clique interest, and stood alone with their lords—yet neither escaped the envious. So Shentu Di walked into the Yong and Xu Yan walked into the sea with a stone on his back. They could not bear the age, yet they would not court a cabal at court to sway their ruler. Baili Xi begged on the road, yet Duke Mu of Qin handed him the government. Ning Qi tended his ox under the wagon, yet Duke Huan of Qi made him steward of the realm. Did either owe his place to long service at court or praise from favorites? Heart answered to heart, deed to deed, bonded like glue—brothers could not have pulled them apart, let alone the crowd's tongue. A ruler who hears only one side invites treason; one who trusts a single voice courts chaos. Lu heeded Jisun and drove out Confucius; Song followed Ziran's counsel and caged Mozi. Men as eloquent as Confucius and Mozi could not save themselves from spite, and both states stumbled. Why? Because many tongues can melt bronze, and piled slander can wear away bone. Qin used the Rong adviser You Yu and dominated the heartland; Qi used the Yue man Zicang and grew mighty under Wei and Xuan. Were those kingdoms slaves to fashion, rumor, or prejudice? They listened widely, looked everywhere, and let clear sight rest on the age. When minds meet, Hu and Yue are brothers—that was You Yu and Zicang. When they do not, kin become foes—look at Danzhu and Xiang, or Guan and Cai of Zhou. Were a ruler to match Qi and Qin's breadth of hearing and shun Song and Lu's narrowness, he would outshine the Five Hegemons and rival the Three Kings with ease.
24
A waking sage casts off a Zizhi's flattery, refuses to dote on a Tian Chang's seeming virtue, ennobles Bigan's line, tends the tomb of the woman who died with her unborn child—such a ruler's fame covers the realm. Why? Because the hunger for good knows no end. Duke Wen of Jin embraced his old foe and rose to lord the nobles. Duke Huan of Qi raised up his enemy and set the realm to rights. Why? Because deep kindness and steady truth in the heart cannot be faked with fine phrases.
25
使使
Qin used Shang Yang's code to crush Han and Wei in the east and tower over the world—yet Shang Yang died under the cart wheels. Yue followed Zhong's counsel, broke mighty Wu, and ruled the heartland—yet Zhong himself was put to death. Sunshu Ao resigned the prime ministership three times without regret; Ziling Zizhong refused the three highest offices to hoe another man's garden. Were a ruler to shed arrogance, show himself worthy of devotion, open his breast, lay bare his good faith, give his whole substance, heap kindness on his men, and stand by them in want or wealth without stinting talent—even Jie's hounds could be set on Yao, Zhi's henchmen sent against You; how much truer when he wields the power of ten thousand chariots and wields a sage king's legacy! Would you have me rehearse how Jing Ke's kin were wiped out to the seventh degree, or how Yaoliao burned his wife and child—examples hardly fit for your ears!
26
使
They say that if you toss a famous pearl or a glowing jade to strangers in the dark, every passerby will reach for his sword and eye you with mistrust. Why? Because no one had vouched for you first. A knotted stump may become the emperor's chariot timber only after his attendants have praised its grain. Present such gifts unintroduced and you bind resentment, not gratitude. With a sponsor's word even deadwood wins lasting credit. Consider the poor scholar in homespun: he may wield the learning of Yao and Shun, the rhetoric of Yi Yin and Guan Zhong, the steadfast heart of Longpeng and Bigan—yet without patrons at court to polish his name, he can pour out his soul in loyal counsel and still meet only a ruler's hand on his hilt and a sidelong glare. Thus the man in homespun lacks even the advocate a rotten stump enjoys.
27
使
The sage king shapes the world as a potter turns his wheel: he is not tugged by petty rumor nor overruled by the clamor of the crowd. The First Emperor believed his inner attendant Meng Jia and trusted Jing Ke—and the hidden dagger nearly struck home. King Wen hunted where the Jing meets the Wei, carried Lü Shang home in his carriage, and so came to rule the realm. Qin listened to palace favorites and fell; Zhou took counsel from chance-met strangers like a flock alighting and rose to kingship. Why? Because they could leap past narrow convention, hear voices from beyond the court, and keep their eyes on the clear, open path. Today's rulers drown in flattery and let inner-chamber rules bind them; they pen free spirits with draft animals—no wonder Bao Jiao despaired of the world.
28
使
I have heard that one who comes to court in full dress does not stain his integrity with private gain, and one who hones a reputation does not sell his conduct for profit. There was a hamlet called 'Outshining Mother'—Zengzi would not set foot in it. There was a town called Zhaoge—Mozi turned his chariot around. If you cage the empire's freest minds with terror and rank, force them to grovel before sycophants and court favorites, they will die in their holes in the hills—who then would bring honest faith to your gate!
29
When the memorial reached King Xiao, he had Zou Yang freed at once and later honored him as a chief retainer.
30
使使 使
Earlier Yang Sheng and Gongsun Gui had urged the king to seek appointment as imperial heir; the king had also asked leave to run a private carriage road straight to Changle Palace and to raise a covered walk from Liang so he could visit the empress dowager. Yuan Ang and others all argued this could not be allowed. The emperor refused. King Xiao of Liang in his rage sent assassins to murder Yuan Ang. The throne suspected Liang; envoys with their train of carriages arrived one after another to call the king to account. The king had plotted with Sheng and Gui, while Zou Yang had openly opposed the plot—so the king came under suspicion of slander. Mei Sheng and Yan Ji dared not speak up.
31
西
When the plot collapsed and Sheng and Gui were dead, King Xiao feared the death sentence, remembered Zou Yang's counsel, offered deep apologies and a thousand pounds of gold, and sent for a way to appease the throne. Zou Yang sought out the Qi strategist Master Wang, past eighty and full of stratagems, and laid the whole matter before him. Master Wang said, "This is hard. When a ruler nurses a settled grudge and means to carry out a certain execution, it is almost impossible to talk him round. Not even the empress dowager's rank and kinship could stay him—what chance have mere subjects? Qin Shihuang once nursed a secret rage against his mother; dozens of ministers died remonstrating. Only when Mao Jiao framed the issue in high principle could the First Emperor yield—not because he liked the advice, but because he forced himself to accept it. Mao Jiao himself escaped execution by a hair's breadth—that is how hard such moments are. Do you mean to settle this now? Zou Yang replied, "Zhou and Lu cling to the classics; Qi and Chu breed debaters; Han and Wei produce men of odd mettle—I will canvass them in turn." Master Wang said, "Go then. On your way back west, stop here again."
32
西
After more than a month no one had a plan. On his return Zou Yang called on Master Wang and said, "I am leaving for the capital—what now?" Master Wang said, "I once had a humble scheme but held my tongue, thinking no common crowd could match it. When you go, you must see Wang Changjun, the empress's elder brother—there is no better man for this." Zou Yang's mind cleared; he said, "I obey." He avoided Liang, rode straight to Chang'an, and gained audience with Wang Changjun through a client.
33
使 西 使 使 西 使
When Liu Pi of Wu rose with the seven kingdoms, Qi and Jibei held their walls and sent no troops. After Han crushed Wu, the King of Qi took his own life and left no heir. The King of Jibei prepared to kill himself but was spared, with wife and children safe. A man of Qi, Gongsun [name missing], told the King of Jibei, "Let me try to explain your case to the King of Liang and win the emperor's ear; if he will not listen, you may die then—but not before." It will not be too late to die." Gongsun [lacuna] then said to King Xiao, "Jibei lies between powerful Qi, Wu and Yue to the south, Yan and Zhao to the north—a splintered salient too weak to defend or strike, with no heavenly omens to shield it; even if it once made overtures to Wu, that was never its true design for rebellion. When Zhai Zhong of Zheng promised the Song to set up Prince Tu to save his lord, the Spring and Autumn Annals recorded it—not as righteous, but because he traded life for death and survival for ruin. Had Jibei shown its true loyalty and refused the rebels early, Wu would first have had to fight through Qi and grind down Jibei before it could win Yan and Zhao to its league. The eastern league would have held fast with no breach. While Wu and Chu drilled allied hosts and marched west against the throne, Jibei alone stood siege and never yielded. Wu lost its partners and had no help; its advance faltered and its host crumbled—much of that collapse was Jibei's doing. For that small state to defy the rebel alliance was like a lamb facing wolves. It held its post without wavering—utter fidelity. For such service he was still suspected by the throne, left cringing and afraid to move—hardly a gain for the realm. I fear every loyal prince along the frontier will lose heart. I believe only you, my lord, can cross the western hills, pass Changle, reach Weiyang Palace, roll up your sleeve, and speak plain truth to the throne. You would save a kingdom above and quiet the people below; your virtue would sink into bone and your kindness know no end—I beg you to weigh this carefully." King Xiao was delighted and sent riders to lay the plea before the court. The King of Jibei escaped punishment and was transferred to a fief at Zichuan.
34
Mei Sheng, styled Shu, came from Huaiyang and was a gentleman-attendant to King Liu Pi of Wu. When the king first nursed a grudge and plotted revolt, Mei Sheng sent up this memorial:
35
I have heard that wholeness brings full fortune, and its loss brings utter ruin. Shun began without an inch of land yet came to own the realm. Yu had not ten households to his name yet came to be king over the feudal lords. The founders of Shang and Zhou began on a patch of ground no larger than a hundred li, yet they never dimmed sun, moon, and stars above nor broke the people's hearts below—because they held the true art of kingship. The bond of father and son is nature itself. When a loyal minister risks death to speak plainly, no policy is left unexamined and his fame runs for ages. I, Cheng, lay bare my heart and offer my poor loyalty; I beg you, my lord, to hear me with compassion.
36
It is like hanging a thousand jun from a single thread over a bottomless pit—even a fool knows to fear the snap. The team is already panicked, yet you beat the drum; the rope is fraying, yet you pile on more weight. Once the thread parts it cannot be knotted again; once you fall into the pit you cannot climb back. Between safety and ruin there is not room for a hair. Heed a loyal minister and you may slip free a hundred times over. If you insist on your present course, you stand higher than a tower of eggs and face a climb harder than heaven. Change course and the danger becomes as easy as turning your hand, the safety as sure as Mount Tai. You would spend heaven's allotted years and the power of ten thousand chariots chasing boundless pleasure, yet refuse the ease of a hand's turn and the safety of Taishan while you mount the peril of stacked eggs and the climb to the sky—this your humble servant cannot understand.
37
Some men fear their shadow and loathe their footprints: they run from the sun and only multiply both—never thinking to step into shade, where shadow dies and prints end. If you would not be overheard, better not speak. If you would not be found out, better not do the deed. To cool boiling soup one man heats while a hundred fan—useless; better lift the fuel and kill the fire. To stoke the blaze here while hoping to douse it there is to hug kindling to a bonfire. Yang Youji of Chu could stand a hundred paces from a willow leaf and hit it a hundred times in a hundred tries. To put a hundred arrows through a leaf as small as a willow blade is indeed fine shooting. Yet he never shot beyond a hundred paces; set beside your servant Cheng, he has not yet learned to take up bow and arrow.
38
穿 使
Good fortune has its roots; disaster has its embryo. Nourish the root and cut the bud—how should calamity arise? The drip from Taishan bores through stone; a single rope's strand can snap the beam. Water is no chisel and rope no saw—yet grinding wear does the work. Weigh grain by the scruple and you will miss the stone. Measure inch by inch and you will overshoot the rod. Weigh by the stone and measure by the rod—straightforward and seldom wrong. A tree that will take ten men to gird began as a sprig you could break with a toe—catch evil before it grows. Whetstone and grindstone wear away unseen—until the blade is gone. Plant a tree and tend it; you see no growth day by day—until one day it towers. Heap up merit in secret; you may not notice the good—until the moment it saves you. Cast off right and turn your back on principle; you may not feel the evil—until the hour of ruin. I beg you, my lord, to weigh this counsel and live by it—the changeless path for a hundred generations.
39
The King of Wu would not listen. Mei Sheng and his companions left for Liang and joined King Xiao's court.
40
西
Emperor Jing had ascended; Grand Counselor Chao Cuo rewrote Han law and pared the kingdoms, so the King of Wu conspired with six states, marched west, and used "punishing Chao Cuo" as his banner. The court cut off Chao Cuo's head to appease the kings. Mei Sheng remonstrated again:
41
西
Qin once fought the western Rong, guarded the Yuzhong pass in the north, held the Qiang passes in the south, and turned east to meet the allied six states. Those six kingdoms rode on Lord Xinling's name, honored Su Qin's league, brandished Jing Ke's daring, and stood as one against Qin. Yet Qin swallowed them all, snuffed their dynastic fires, and unified the realm—why? Because terrain differed and the strength of their peoples was not the same. Han holds all Qin's old territory and the combined manpower of the six states, courts the Rong and Di in good faith, and fronts the Qiang in the south—its ground outstrips Qin's ten times over, its people a hundredfold, as you well know. Yet your flatterers plot for you without regard to kinship, popular strength, or the size of states, and call it Wu's doom—that is what I fear for you.
42
西滿
To march Wu against Han is like gnats swarming a herd of oxen or rotten meat meeting a keen blade—when steel strikes, you will be nothing. The emperor heard Wu lead disaffected kings and invoke the late emperor's covenants; the court has just executed three grand ministers to atone for past wrongs—your prestige, my lord, already weighs on the realm, your deed outshines Tang and Wu. Wu holds only a king's title, yet it is wealthier than the throne. It is called a remote fief, yet its splendor exceeds the heartland. Han gathers tribute from twenty-four commanderies and seventeen kingdoms along roads that never rest—yet its hoard cannot match your Eastern Mountain vaults. Its grain barges fill the rivers—yet they cannot match your granaries at Hailing. Its Shanglin Park with its lodges and menageries cannot match your Changzhou hunting preserve. Its Curved Terrace and highways cannot match your pleasure pools at hand. Its stacked walls and barred passes cannot match the natural rampart of the Yangtze and Huai. That, my lord, is your advantage.
43
宿
Wheel your host about now and you may yet keep half of what you have. Refuse, and once Han knows you mean to seize the realm, it will blaze with wrath and send palace guards and river fleets down the stream against your capital. Lu and Donghai will sever your supply lines. King Xiao of Liang will drill cavalry, stack grain, and hold Xingyang fast until Wu starves. Then even if you wish to wheel back to your seat, you will be unable. The Huainan princes kept faith, the King of Qi died to wipe away suspicion, four kingdoms never marched, Zhao is bottled in Handan—these facts cannot be hidden; they are plain. You have marched out of a thousand-li realm only to be pinned within ten li. Zhang and Han will hold this ground, Gongao will camp on your flanks—your men will not dare leave the walls nor draw a full breath; I grieve for it. I beg you to weigh this.
44
The king ignored Mei Sheng's plan and was taken and ruined.
45
When Han crushed the seven kingdoms, Mei Sheng's name was known everywhere. Emperor Jing summoned him and named him chief of Hongnong commandery. Long a honored client of a great kingdom, keeping company with the brilliant, he found no joy in a county post and resigned on grounds of illness. He returned to Liang, where every retainer wrote fu; Mei Sheng stood highest among them. After King Xiao died, Mei Sheng went back to his home commandery of Huaiyin.
46
The emperor had known Mei Sheng's name since his own heirship; after his accession, with the scholar's carriage and rattan wheels he called the aged Mei Sheng, who died en route. An edict sought Mei Sheng's sons; none could write; at last a bastard son, Gao, was found.
47
His son: Mei Gao
48
使 殿 使 使
Mei Gao, styled Shaoru: while Mei Sheng was in Liang he took Gao's mother as a concubine. When Mei Sheng went east, the mother refused to follow; in anger he gave the boy a few thousand cash and left him with her. At seventeen he memorialized King Gong of Liang and was called to court as a gentleman. Within three years, on mission for the king, he brawled with hangers-on, was slandered, convicted, and his family confiscated. Mei Gao fled to Chang'an. When an amnesty came, he petitioned at the northern portal, declaring himself Mei Sheng's son. The emperor rejoiced, summoned him as a palace writer-in-waiting, and Mei Gao composed a rhapsody in the hall. He was ordered to write on Pingle Lodge and won praise. He was made a gentleman-cavalier and sent as envoy to the Xiongnu. Mei Gao had no classical learning; his humor was buffoon's humor; his fu and songs ran to coarse jokes—so he won the emperor's intimate favor like Dongfang Shuo and Guo She'er, but never rose to grave posts like Yan Zhu.
49
When the emperor was twenty-nine and at last had a son, the court rejoiced; Mei Gao and Dongfang Shuo were commissioned to write "On the Birth of the Heir" and "Prayer for the Heir's Rite"—compositions that broke precedent to magnify the event.
50
When Empress Wei was first raised, Mei Gao submitted a fu warning how such stories end. In fu composition Mei Gao surpassed Dongfang Shuo.
51
使
He accompanied the court to Ganquan, Yong, Hedong, on the eastern tour, the Mount Tai rite, the Xuanfang works on the Yellow River, the lodges of the capital region—hunting, racing dogs, ball games, inlay work—whenever the emperor felt moved, Mei Gao was told to write. He wrote at speed and finished whatever he was ordered—hence his large body of work. Sima Xiangru wrote more slowly but better—so he produced less yet finer pieces than Mei Gao. In his own fu Mei Gao admitted he fell short of Sima Xiangru, called the art mere clowning, said he was treated like a player, and regretted resembling one. His pieces therefore mocked Dongfang Shuo and mocked himself. His style was rough and wayward, tailored to each occasion, apt to the point, often humorous, seldom ornate. About a hundred twenty pieces are fit to read; several dozen more are too obscene to circulate.
52
Lu Wenshu
53
鹿 使
Lu Wenshu, styled Changjun, came from the eastern ward of Julu. His father was gatekeeper for the village. He sent the boy to tend sheep; Lu Wenshu cut marsh cattails into slips and copied texts on them. As he improved he became a prison runner, studied law, rose to prison clerk, and the county brought him every doubtful case. The grand administrator, touring the county, marked him out and named him clerk of the sentencing office. He also mastered the Spring and Autumn and grasped its larger principles. Recommended as filial and incorrupt, he served as assistant at Shanyi, lost his post for a legal fault, then returned as a commandery clerk.
54
I have heard that after Qi's crisis of Wuzhi, Duke Huan rose from it. Jin suffered Lady Li's plot, yet Duke Wen turned it into hegemony. In our day the King of Zhao met an untimely end, the Lü clan rebelled, and Emperor Wen became founding ancestor. From this it follows that rebellion and disaster are heaven's way of ushering in a sage. Thus Huan and Wen raised fallen houses, continued the work of Wen and Wu, blessed the people and strengthened the nobles; though they fell short of the Three Kings, the realm turned to humaneness. Emperor Wen pondered supreme virtue to answer heaven: he honored benevolence, lightened punishments, opened the roads, treated worthy men as honored guests and the people as infants, and spread inward peace across the seas—so his jails stood empty and the realm knew great peace. After great change must come a mercy unlike the old—that is how sages show heaven's mandate. When Emperor Zhao died without an heir, the ministers agonized and together raised Changyi because he was of the imperial kin. Heaven refused him: lust and folly mastered him, and he destroyed himself. Sound the reasons for that fall, and you see how High Heaven clears the path for the greatest sage. The great general, charged by Emperor Wu, was pillar of Han: he laid bare his heart, set the great design, cast out the unworthy, raised the worthy, and acted with heaven—only then were the ancestral shrines secured and the realm quieted.
55
The Spring and Autumn teaches right succession, one rule for the realm, and a scrupulous beginning. Your Majesty has just mounted the throne in accord with heaven: you should mend the errors of the past, set right the line you inherit, cut red tape, heal the people's hurts, restore broken lines, and answer heaven's will.
56
滿
I have heard that Qin had ten faults; one remains—the way we run our prisons. Under Qin, letters were despised, arms exalted, humane scholars slighted, and jailers honored. Plain truth was branded slander; honest criticism was called witch talk. So scholars in court dress found no employment, loyal counsel choked in the throat, while flattery rang in every ear. Hollow praise blinded the heart while true disaster was walled out. That is how Qin lost the realm. Today, thanks to your kindness, we have no war or famine, and families work in peace—yet full peace eludes us because the prisons are in chaos. Justice is the empire's lifeline: the executed cannot rise, the mutilated cannot be made whole. The Documents say, "Better to risk mishandling a case than to put the innocent to death." Today's jailers do the opposite: rank drives rank and cruelty passes for competence. The harsh win a name for zeal; the fair inherit later trouble. So every jailer wants a capital verdict—not from hatred, but because his own safety lies in another man's death. Blood runs in the marketplace, the branded stand shoulder to shoulder, and executions mount by the tens of thousands each year—it wounds every humane ruler. That is why perfect peace has not come. Human nature seeks life when treated gently and thinks of death when tortured. Under the lash, what confession can fail? So the accused, unable to bear pain, frames a tale for the torturer. The jailer, liking that outcome, coaches the story into shape. Fearing a rebuff upstairs, he forges the record until the charge fits. Once the sentencing memorial is on file, even Gao Yao presiding would conclude the prisoner deserved worse than death. Why? Too many hands have polished the forged case, and the paper "crime" reads as plain as day. So jailers trade in cruelty and extortion without end, cut every corner, and never mind the harm to the state—they are the great brigands of our time. Hence the proverb: "They draw a jail on the dust—yet counsel never crosses the line." "They carve a wooden magistrate—yet no one will plead before it." Such words are the voice of a people who loathe their jailers and grieve their wrongs. No scourge in the realm runs deeper than the prisons. Nothing corrupts law, severs families, and chokes the Way like the men who run those halls. That is the one of Qin's ten faults that still lives among us.
57
I have heard that when no one smashes the crows' and kites' eggs, the phoenix will come to roost. When no one dies for the crime of "slander," honest counsel will flow again. The ancients said, "Hills hide sickness, rivers hold muck; flawless jade may bear a blemish, and a true king may bear a slur." If you strike down the law against slander, open every mouth to frank advice, widen the road of remonstrance, cast off Qin's errors, lift up the model of Kings Wen and Wu, simplify statutes and ease punishments, and break the jailers' grip on justice, then the breeze of true peace will stir in our time, harmony will last as long as heaven, and the realm will know a great blessing.
58
The emperor praised his memorial and promoted him to steward of the Guangyang princely treasury.
59
使
The metropolitan governor ranked him top in the literary examination, and he was promoted to assistant governor of Youfufeng. An edict then called on high officials to name envoys fit for the Xiongnu. Lu Wenshu offered himself as a menial groom, begging to leave his bones bleaching on the frontier if that would fulfill a subject's duty. The case went to General Fan Mingyou and Chamberlain Du Yannian for review; he was sent back to his old post. Later he became grand administrator of Linhuai, where his rule left a remarkable record, and he died in harness.
60
He learned calendrical astronomy from a great-uncle, believed Han would meet crisis in a "three times seven" cycle, and filed sealed warnings. Under Emperor Cheng, Gu Yong voiced the same prophecy. When Wang Mang seized the throne and sought omens of Han's supersession, he set these sayings down in his propaganda. His sons and grandsons rose to governorships and other high posts.
61
The historian's judgment: In the Spring and Autumn Annals, Zang Sunda of Lu remonstrated with ritual—the gentleman said his line would endure. Jia Shan counseled from the bottom of society upward; Zou Yang and Mei Sheng served treasonous courts, yet all escaped the block—because their counsel was just. Lu Wenshu spoke with deference yet meant every word, and his family rose to lasting prominence—exactly as he deserved.
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