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卷五十七上 司馬相如傳

Volume 57a: Sima Xiangru

Chapter 66 of 漢書 ✓ Translated
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Chapter 66
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1
Volume 57a: Biography of Sima Xiangru, chapter twenty-seven, first part.
2
Sima Xiangru, Part One.
3
Sima Xiangru, whose courtesy name was Zhangqing, came from Chengdu in Shu commandery. As a boy he loved books, trained in swordsmanship, and bore the childhood name Quanzi (“Pup”). Once his schooling was done, he so admired the conduct of Lin Xiangru of Zhao that he adopted the name Xiangru for himself. He bought his way into appointment as a gentleman-attendant, served Emperor Jing as a regular palace cavalry guard, and found the post uncongenial. Emperor Jing had little taste for fu rhapsody. Just then King Xiao of Liang was at court with a retinue of persuader-scholars—Zou Yang of Qi, Mei Sheng of Huaiyin, Master Yan Ji of Wu, and others. Sima Xiangru took to their company, pleaded illness, left his post, and went to Liang as a client. For several years he lived among the itinerant literati at the feudal courts, and there he wrote his “Sir Vacuity.”
4
使
After King Xiao of Liang died—at a lacuna in the received text—Xiangru went home, only to find his household too poor to make a living. He was old friends with Wang Ji, magistrate of Linqiang. Wang Ji said, “Zhangqing, you have been in service and on the road for years without getting anywhere. Come stay with me.” Sima Xiangru moved into the county relay inn. The magistrate feigned elaborate respect and called on him every morning. At first he received Wang Ji, then pleaded illness and sent retainers to turn him away—whereupon the magistrate grew only more punctilious and deferential.
5
Linqiang swarmed with magnates. Zhuo Wangsun kept eight hundred household hands; Cheng Zheng commanded hundreds as well. They agreed: “The magistrate’s guest is a man of rank—we should lay a banquet and invite him. Ask the magistrate too.” When Wang Ji appeared, Zhuo’s hall held a hundred guests. At noon they sent for Sima Zhangqing; he pleaded illness and would not attend. The magistrate would not touch his meal and went in person to escort him. Sima Xiangru yielded at last and came—and with a single appearance he charmed the whole company. When they were deep in wine, the magistrate stepped forward with a zither and said, “I hear you are fond of this instrument—may I offer you a tune for your pleasure?” Sima Xiangru demurred, then played a passage or two. Zhuo Wangsun’s daughter Wenjun was newly widowed and loved music. Sima Xiangru therefore played up his friendship with the magistrate and, through what his qin implied, courted her. He arrived with chariot and escort, carrying himself with unhurried grace and unmistakable polish. During the feast at the Zhuo house, as he played, Wenjun stole a glance through a crack in the door—her heart leapt, yet she doubted she could ever be worthy of him. Afterward he sent his people to tip her maid handsomely and pass on his tender regard. That night Wenjun slipped away to join him, and the two raced back to Chengdu. Their house held nothing but bare walls. Zhuo Wangsun raged, “My daughter has disgraced herself; I will not put her to death, but she shall not have a single coin from me!” Neighbors tried to reason with him; he refused to hear them out. After some time Wenjun grew miserable and said, “Husband, let us return to Linqiang. Even if we only borrow from kinsmen on credit, we can still earn a living—anything is better than starving in pride like this.” They went back to Linqiang, sold their carriage and horses, opened a tavern, and put Wenjun behind the counter. Sima Xiangru himself donned leather breeches like a laborer, worked alongside potmen, and scrubbed cups in the marketplace. Zhuo Wangsun found the spectacle mortifying and shut his gates, refusing to show his face. His brothers and kinsmen kept urging him: “You have a son and two daughters; you are not short of money. Wenjun has given herself to Sima Zhangqing. He may be poor, but he is a man whose talents have tired of mere roaming—she can rely on him. Besides, he is the magistrate’s guest. Why disgrace him—and yourselves—like this?” Zhuo Wangsun yielded at last: a hundred servants, a million cash, and her wedding trousseau went with her. She and Sima Xiangru returned to Chengdu, bought land and manor, and settled among the wealthy.
6
Some time later a fellow townsman, Yang Deyi, served as imperial kennel-master at court. The emperor read the “Sir Vacuity” and exclaimed, “Why could I not have lived in the same era as the man who wrote this?” Yang Deyi replied, “My countryman Sima Xiangru claims authorship of that piece.” Startled, the emperor summoned Sima Xiangru for an audience. Sima Xiangru admitted it was his work. “But that piece,” he went on, “only treats the hunts of the feudal lords—it is hardly fit for your majesty. Allow me to offer a fu on the Son of Heaven’s shikar.” The emperor ordered brushes and bamboo slips from the Secretariat. Sima Xiangru explained that “Sir Vacuity” stood for empty boasting on Chu’s behalf; that “Mr. Nonexistence” meant “there is no such thing,” voicing Qi’s counter; and that “Lord No-such-person” signified no such man at all—figures meant to expound the Son of Heaven’s true standard. He used these three allegorical speakers to unfold the hunting grounds of emperor and kings alike. The closing movement turns to restraint and frugality, turning the whole piece into a veiled admonition. He presented it to the throne, and the emperor was delighted. The text runs as follows:
7
使使使
Chu dispatched Sir Vacuity on a mission to Qi. The king of Qi mustered every chariot and horseman and took his guest out for the chase. When the hunt broke up, Sir Vacuity called on Mr. Nonexistence—Lord No-such-person was there too. (The received text is damaged at one character.) Once they were seated, Mr. Nonexistence asked whether the day’s sport had pleased him. “It was,” said Sir Vacuity. “Did you take much game?” “Very little.” “Then what pleased you?” Sir Vacuity answered, “I enjoyed the king’s urge to dazzle me with his host of chariots and horsemen—because it let me answer with the tale of Cloud Dream Marsh.” “May we hear that tale?”
8
滿 鹿 宿
“Gladly,” said Sir Vacuity. “The king fielded a thousand chariots and chose ten thousand riders, hunted along the coast, packed the marshes with beaters, and strung seine-nets ridge to ridge.” “They netted hares, rode down deer, shot elk, brought down fabulous quarry, worked the salt flats, and carved fresh kill to daub the chariot wheels with blood.” “His aim was true and the bag grew fat; flushed with pride he turned to me and asked whether Chu owned any hunting ground as vast and merry as his own. How, he demanded, did the king of Chu’s sport measure against his?” “I stepped down and answered, ‘I am a humble Chu subject who has stood night watch at court for a dozen years. I have sometimes followed the hunt in the rear park and glimpsed something of what lies there, yet I have never seen it all.’” How then could I speak of the great marsh beyond?’” “The king of Qi said, ‘Even so, tell us in outline what you have seen and heard.’”
9
耀 {} 西{} 黿
“I answered, ‘Very well.’” They say Chu holds seven great marshes; I have visited only one and know nothing of the others. The tract I saw must be the smallest of the lot, and it is still called Cloud Dream. Cloud Dream spans nine hundred li, and mountains rise inside it. Those peaks twist in long folds and pile into dizzy heights; their crests jag so wildly that sun and moon seem swallowed; they tangle upward until they scrape the sky; their lower slopes roll down in long undulations to meet the great rivers. (One character is missing in the text.) The earth yields cinnabar and malachite, red ochre and white clay, orpiment and arsenic pigments, tin, green jade, gold, and silver—colors so bright they flash like dragon scales. The stones include carnelian, rose quartz, Kunwu jade, and other hard gems—several names are partly lost in the received text. To the east lie beds of orchids, thoroughwort, angelica, skandix, sweet-flag, river mallow, and tall reeds, with cane and ginger. To the south stretch level plains and wide meres, rising and falling in gentle swells, hemmed by the Yangtze and closed in by Mount Wu. The high ground bears sedge, thorn-oak, pepper trees, and water caltrop, mingled with smilax and river rushes. The wet bottoms grow wild rice, reeds, bindweed, water bamboo, lotus, arrowhead, water chestnut, and basella vine. The plants and creatures that live there are beyond counting or description. To the west, jets of clear water feed restless pools where lotus and water-lilies break the surface while boulders and white sand lie beneath. In those depths swim spirit turtles, horned dragons, and giant soft-shells—though one creature name is damaged in the manuscript. To the north stand shadowy groves of great trees—nanmu, camphor, cassia, pepper, magnolia, birch, and poplar, with fruiting pear and chestnut, orange and pomelo perfuming the air. (Several tree names are incomplete in the text.) Above fly pheasants, peacocks, and long-tailed mountain pheasants. Below roam white tigers, black leopards, and other fierce cats whose names the text only partly preserves.
10
使 輿
The king then sent professional hunters like the Zhuans to bring the beasts down bare-handed. The king of Chu yoked teams of trained horses, mounted a jade-inlaid carriage, flew banners fringed with yak hair and pearl streamers, brandished the great Ganjiang halberd, slung the famed “Bird-cry” bow on the left and filled the right with Xia-made shafts. Yangzi rode escort while a named charioteer held the reins—the driver’s name is partly lost. Before the horses had quite slackened pace they were leaping crafty quarry, trampling fabulous beasts, outrunning wild horses—several beast names are defective in the text. They rode the gale, shot at full gallop; the hunt roared like thunder and flashed like lightning—no arrow flew idle, every hit dropped the quarry in its tracks until carcasses littered the grass like rain. (The received line is damaged in several places.) Then the king checked his team, wheeled slowly, and idled through the shadowed woods, savoring the fury of his hunters and the terror of the beasts until every quarry had yielded and the spectacle was spent.
11
輿 彿
Then came the palace girls of Zheng in thin silks and layered gauze, skirts fluttering like mist over winding valleys—though the fabric names are partly corrupted. Their sleeves flared, their sashes flew—several phrases are illegible in the received text. They swayed with the chariot, their silks hissing as they brushed the orchids below and stroked the feathered awning above. Jade ornaments flashed at waist and wrist, knotted sashes swinging with each sway. They seemed less mortal women than drifting spirits.
12
Together they beat the orchid park for game along golden embankments, loosing arrows at swans and geese, raising colored banners and kingfisher drapes—many words in this catalogue are damaged. They netted turtles, hooked cowries, beat drums and blew flutes until boat-songs and crashing surf blended into a roar like thunder heard a hundred leagues away. (The line is partly defective.)
13
輿
“When the beaters were recalled, the spirit drum rolled, signal fires flared, chariots fell into line and riders into ranks, streaming on in endless file.” The king of Chu then climbed the Yangyun Terrace, let his mind rest in stillness, and in quiet restraint waited until the spiced banquet was laid before he tasted it. “That is nothing like you, my lord, who spend the whole day at the gallop without leaving your chariot, slice hot meat against the wheel hubs, and call that pleasure.” (One verb is missing in the text.) “From what I could see, Qi could scarcely compete.”’ “At that the king of Qi had no answer left for me.”
14
使 仿
Mr. Nonexistence broke in: “That is carrying the argument much too far! You traveled a great distance to honor Qi with a visit. The king called up every able man in the realm, marshaled chariots and horsemen, and took you hunting so that together you might bag game and give his courtiers a pleasant day out—how is that “boasting”? When he asked what there was in Chu, he wanted to hear something of Qi’s renown and your own reflections—not a lecture on Chu’s parks. Yet you never praise the king of Chu’s magnanimity; instead you inflate Cloud Dream into a boast, wallow in sensual excess, and parade every kind of luxury. I cannot think that becomes you. If things were really as you painted them, they would be no credit to Chu at all. If they exist and you retail them, you expose your ruler’s faults; if they do not and you still retail them, you ruin your own credibility. Either way you wound both ruler and guest. To behave so is to earn contempt in Qi and bring trouble down on Chu. Consider Qi itself: the eastern sea bounds it—one character is missing in the text—Langya lies to the south, with hunts at Mount Cheng and Zhifu, fleets on the Bohai Gulf, and excursions in the Mengzhu marsh; Sushen lies athwart its frontier and the coast runs toward the place of the rising sun. The king hunts the Qingqiu in autumn and ranges beyond the sea—yet tracts the size of eight or nine Cloud Dreams would still sit on his chest no heavier than a speck of dust. Rare creatures and curiosities from every quarter teem there beyond count or naming—several words are lost in the manuscript, including one verb paired with Yu. Yet a feudal lord may not brag of his sport or the size of his hunting parks. You are a guest of honor; the king held his tongue out of courtesy—not because he had nothing to say!”
15
使
Lord No-such-person laughed aloud and said, “Chu was in the wrong—but Qi fares no better. Tribute from the lords is not about collecting treasure; it is how they render account of their stewardship. Fixed frontiers are not meant chiefly for defense; they are meant to curb excess and ambition. Qi ranks as an eastern bulwark of the realm, yet it cultivates private ties with Sushen, casts off its proper bounds, and hunts beyond the sea—conduct that the rites cannot justify. (One character is missing in the text.) Both of you ignore the bond between sovereign and subject and the etiquette owed by a vassal state; you only vie over whose playground is larger and whose hunt is more lavish. That wins no glory—it only shames your masters and yourselves.
16
西 西
“As for Qi and Chu—what is there even worth saying!” You have never seen true magnificence. Surely you have heard of the Son of Heaven’s Shanglin preserve?” It runs toward Cangwu in the east and toward the western wastes; the Vermilion River washes its southern flank and the Purple Pool its northern. The Ba and Chan rivers thread through it from end to end; the Jing and Wei pour in and out, joined by the Feng, Hao, Lao, and other streams—several river names are damaged in the text—that wind and coil across the park. Eight great rivers split and surge through the park, each with its own temper: they burst from defiles, braid across sandbars, thread the cassia groves, flood the open moors, then boil together, drop through narrows—one place name is lost—hammer boulders and shoals, rear in white rage, crash and cross-cut until the whole basin seethes like a cauldron. The passage piles on binomes for roaring water; many graphs are missing or corrupt in the received Hanshu. Then all at once the torrent subsides into a deep hush, and the waters glide home to rest. (One character is missing.) Spreading wide, the currents ease and slide eastward into the great lake, spilling over into every marsh and pond along the way. Horned dragons and lesser river dragons thrash their fins and fan their scales in the depths—several fish names are defective in the manuscript. Fish and turtles sport on the surface; countless creatures flourish in the flood. Lustrous pearls line the banks; Shu jade, yellow crystal, and heaped “water jade” flash so many hues that the riverbed seems paved with gems. Wildfowl of every description—swans, bustards, teals, and rarer species partly lost in the text—raft in dense flocks on the water. They drift with the breeze, bob on the chop, dabble in the shallows, and peck at algae and lotus root.
17
{} 稿
Beyond the rivers rise sheer ranges and deep woods, cliffs stepping wildly toward the sky. The Southern March looms among broken peaks and winding gorges; ridges, islets, and hillocks pile one upon another in a maze the damaged text can only partly name. The floodplain spreads smooth for a thousand li, every terrace and bottomland groomed for the imperial pleasure. The ground is sewn with thoroughwort, river mallow, and other aromatics—one verb is lost at the line’s opening. Herbs and spices carpet the flats in such profusion—knotweed, belamcanda, ginger, iris, and a host of other plants, some unreadable in the manuscript—that the wind carries a single intoxicating breath across miles of marsh.
18
西
Roam where you will: the view dissolves into haze and dazzle, without verge or limit. The sun lifts from the eastern pool and sinks behind the western levee. To the south it is so mild that plants grow in the depth of winter and springs boil up in dancing waves; there you find yak, tapir, musk deer, rhinoceros, elephant, and the fabulous qiongqi—several animal names are incomplete in the text. To the north it stays so cold that in midsummer the ground can split with frost and men can ford the ice; there graze unicorn, camel, wild ass, mule, and other steppe beasts—one name is lost.
19
宿 輿西 {}
Detached palaces span ridge after ridge: high galleries, tiered belvederes, covered walks that run for a day’s journey without leaving the roofed ways. Terraces rise in stacked stories, their inner chambers bored deep into the living rock. Look down and the depth swallows sight; look up and you seem to brush the sky—meteors slip past the chamber doors and rainbows arch through the lattices. Bronze dragons coil along the east wing, jade-mounted chariots stand in the western gallery, guardian spirits are cast in the side halls, and a sweet spring bubbles up through the central court. Cliffs of raw jade and coral, grain on grain of carnelian and “He’s” famous disk—the stone itself seems to bloom with color.
20
Orchards fill the rear palace and north park with oranges, loquats, persimmons, cherries, grapes, lychees, and every southern fruit—green leaves, purple stalks, scarlet bloom, and fruit glowing like coals across the hills. (Several tree names are damaged.) Forest giants—oaks, zelkovas, camphors, magnolias—stand thicker than a man can span, their limbs interlaced until the wind in the leaves sounds like bells and flutes. Many plant names in this catalogue are corrupt. The groves run in belts round the inner palaces, cloak every slope, and stretch away without visible end.
21
Black gibbons, white gibbons, long-tailed apes, and other mountain monkeys swing and roost in the canopy—several species names are lost. They howl, flash from limb to limb, vault broken bridges and thickets, and vanish in a rustle of leaves.
22
宿
Hundreds of such lodges dot the park; the court may roam for months while pantries, harem, and full bureaucracy travel with the throne.
23
簿
When autumn turns to winter, the emperor leads the great battue. He mounts an ivory-inlaid chariot drawn by six gleaming bays—one ornament name is missing—rainbow pennons and cloud standards streaming, a leather-screened vanguard and escort chariots to the rear. Sun Shu takes the reins, the Duke of Wei rides escort, and the host breaks from the four-field cordon in full array. The roll call ends, the beaters open, and the hunt spills across a front measured in rivers and mountains—chariots thunder, earth shakes, squadrons wheel like clouds bursting into rain. Men strip the pelts from leopards, wrestle wolves and bears, and run down wild goats with their bare feet. They wear plumed hoods and tiger-skin chaps, ride bareback, and charge slopes and gravel beds that would stop an ordinary horse. They spear wind-spirits, gore fabulous beasts, and bring down giant boars—several monster names are defective. No arrow flies without purpose; each strike splits skull or spine. No bowstring hums without answer; game drops at the report.
24
輿退 鹿 耀滿
The imperial chariot checks, wheels, and surveys the columns as commanders shift their dispositions. Then the pace quickens: birds scatter before the cars, clever beasts are trampled underhoof, white deer and swift hares are run down—one verb is missing. They outrace storm-flash, bend the Fanruo bow, loose white-feathered shafts, and strike down owls and other ill-omened birds mid-flight. They pick their quarry before they shoot and call the spot before the arrow lands—one final verb is damaged.
25
The hunt then takes wing: chariots seem to ride the wind and flame after every rare bird from dark crane to phoenix—several bird names are incomplete in the text.
26
西 滿
When trails and game alike are spent, the chariots wheel for home. The procession drifts through the park’s gates and lodges—Shimen, Fengluan, and the rest, many names partly lost—while the emperor reviews what his men have taken. Beasts crushed under wheel and hoof, stunned without a blade’s touch, lie heaped until gorges and flats are carpeted with carcasses.
27
Then, weary of sport, they feast on the Terrace of Vast Heaven, strike bells of a thousand stone-weights, raise kingfisher banners and spirit drums, and stage the dances of antiquity until hills tremble and valleys answer like surf. Troupes from Ba, Yu, Song, Cai, and Huainan follow one another; bronze drums and wild songs strike the heart and ring in the ears. The licentious airs of Zheng and Wei alternate with the classical Shao and Wu suites, acrobats and dwarfs, and sensual dances—everything that dazzles eye and ear and works on the heart.
28
便便綿
Ladies like the goddess Fufei move among the guests in gauze so fine it seems spun from a single cocoon—glances that steal the soul and laughter that flashes like pearls. Several adjectives are corrupt in the source.
29
使
Deep in wine and music the emperor’s mood turns grave, as if something had been lost, and he murmurs, “This is too much—far too much. I used my free hours to hunt in accord with the seasons, never dreaming that posterity might ape this splendor, drift into excess, and never find their way back—that is no foundation for an heir or a dynasty.” He ended the revel and ordered his ministers to open every acre that could be plowed, throw down the park walls and fill the ditches, and let hill folk and marsh dwellers come in to farm. Let the people fish the ponds without ban and lodge in the empty guesthouses. Release grain for the hungry, aid the short of supplies, comfort widows and widowers, and shelter the orphaned and alone. Proclaim amnesty, lighten penalties, reform the calendar, change court dress—give the empire a new beginning.”’”
30
On a chosen fast day he dons full court robes, sounds his jade bells, and “hunts” instead through the garden of the Six Classics—archery to the moral odes, dances with shield and axe, discourses on the Rites, Documents, and Changes, frees the menagerie’s fabulous beasts, holds court in the Bright Hall, and lets every officer speak plain truth until the realm shares the benefit. At that the world rejoiced, habits turned with his edict, and virtue rose until punishments fell idle—an achievement said to eclipse even the Five Thearchs. (One character is missing.) When the hunt ends in such deeds, it is truly a thing to celebrate.”
31
But to race all day until men and horses are spent, drain the treasury, enrich no one, and care only for bagging hares—that a humane ruler will not do. Seen in that light, the quarrel of Qi and Chu is pathetic indeed. Their territories are less than a thousand li square, yet nine-tenths is park—no room to plow, nothing for the people to live on. Petty lords who mimic an emperor’s excess invite disaster on their commoners—and that, sir, is what I fear for your people.”
32
The two visitors blanched, rose unsteadily from their cushions, and said, “We are coarse men who spoke out of turn. We thank you for the lesson and shall take it to heart.”
33
When the fu was laid before the throne, the emperor appointed Sima Xiangru a gentleman. Ban Gu’s note: Lord No-such-person’s description of Shanglin and Sir Vacuity’s catalogue of Cloud Dream swell beyond fact and stray from moral purpose; the historian has therefore trimmed them to essentials and set the discourse back on the proper path.
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