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卷六十四下 嚴朱吾丘主父徐嚴終王賈傳

Volume 64b: an, Zhu, Wuqiu, Zhufu, Xu, Yan, Zhong, Wang and Jia 2

Chapter 75 of 漢書 ✓ Translated
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Chapter 75
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1
Volume 64b, Part Two: biographies of Yan An, Zhu Mai Chen, Wuqiu Shouwang, Zhufu Yan, Xu Le, Yan Cang, Zhong Jun, Wang Bao, and Jia Yi—the thirty-third set of biographies, lower scroll.
2
Yan An came from Linzi. Serving as a clerk who had once worked under the chancellor, he presented a memorial that began:
3
調使使 媿 使
I have heard Zou Yan say that policy and moral teaching, refinement and plainness, exist to redress imbalance: use what suits the moment, discard what is out of date, and change when change is due. A ruler who clings to a single formula and never revises it has never grasped what true good government looks like. Today the common people spend money with reckless luxury: they outdo one another in decking out carriages, horses, robes, furs, and houses; they arrange the five notes into elaborate music, blend the five colors into rich designs, and heap rare flavors across a table before them—all to flaunt appetite and set a fashion for the whole world. Human nature being what it is, people covet whatever looks splendid; in effect, the court is schooling them in excess. Extravagance without limits outruns any purse, and the people abandon farming to chase petty profit at the margins. Those secondary gains do not come honestly, so belted officials turn to fraud without a qualm, and men who wear swords swagger through murder and robbery, while society feels no shame. Crime and violence spread unchecked. Splendid sights and rare treasures naturally delight the senses, yet when we indulge them, nourishment slides into excess, music into licentiousness, ritual into mere display, and moral teaching into hollow pretense. Pretense, ornament, debauchery, and extravagance are no model for how the people ought to live. The result is a tireless scramble for gain across the land, and the jails fill with lawbreakers. I urge you to set norms that curb excess, so that rich and poor are not locked in mutual envy and hearts can find peace. When minds are at peace, temperaments grow calm and steady. Content people who are not driven by restless ambition will not turn to theft. With theft rare, punishments become infrequent. Fewer punishments mean balanced yin and yang, orderly seasons, timely rain and wind, lush growth, abundant harvests, thriving herds, and no plague of untimely deaths—this is harmony brought to perfection.
4
I am told the Zhou held the realm for over three hundred years of rule; the reigns of King Cheng and King Kang were its high point, when criminal penalties lay unused for more than forty years. Its decline lasted another three hundred years, a span in which the Five Lords Protector rose one after another. Those hegemons habitually aided the Son of Heaven by advancing good, removing harm, crushing cruelty, and checking wickedness, bringing order within the Four Seas so as to uphold the throne. After the last hegemon died, no worthy successor appeared; the Zhou king grew isolated and feeble, and his decrees carried no weight. Regional lords did as they pleased: the strong swallowed the weak, and great states bullied small ones. Tian Chang seized Qi, six noble clans carved up Jin, and the age of the Warring States began—the first great wave of misery for the common people. Mighty states threw everything into conquest while weaker ones dug in behind their walls; leagues shifted from north–south pacts to east–west deals; chariots jammed wheel-hub to wheel-hub; soldiers lived so long in mail that lice bred in the lining; ordinary folk had no court to which they could appeal.
5
使 退 使 使使祿 使 宿退 使
Then came the First Emperor of Qin, who gnawed away the states one by one, swallowed the warring kingdoms, took the title of emperor, centralized all authority, and razed the walls of the old feudatories. He had their bronze weapons melted down and recast into bells and bell-frames, a public pledge that arms would not be taken up again. The common people, delivered at last from endless war, believed they had met an enlightened sovereign; every household felt as though it had been given a new life. Had Qin only eased its penalties, cut taxes and labor service, honored humanity and duty over ruthless calculation, encouraged integrity in high places and discouraged sycophancy below, and reformed customs throughout the realm, its peace might have lasted for generations. Qin did nothing of the kind. It clung to old habits, promoting the cunning and the self-seeking while sidelining the steadfast and true. Statutes grew harsher, orders more cruel, and flatterers multiplied; the court daily heard only its own praises until ambition swelled and discipline collapsed. Intent on striking terror into lands beyond China, he sent Meng Tian north against the Xiongnu, pushed the frontier forward, planted garrisons along the northern river line, and then rushed grain and fodder north in an endless train to supply them. He also ordered Commandant Tu Sui to take marines in tower ships against the Yue, while Superintendent Lu cut a canal to move supplies deep into Yue country until the local people melted away into the hills. The campaign dragged on until provisions ran out; the Yue struck back and shattered the Qin army. Qin then dispatched Commandant Zhao Tuo with a garrison to hold the conquered south. At that moment Qin was caught between the Xiongnu in the north and Yue in the south, with armies tied down in barren country where they could advance but not withdraw. For over a decade every able-bodied man wore armor and every woman hauled supplies for the front. Life became unbearable; people strung themselves up from roadside trees until the corpses lined the highways. When the First Emperor died, the empire erupted in revolt. Chen Sheng and Wu Guang seized Chen, Wu Chen and Zhang Er raised Zhao, Xiang Liang rose in Wu, Tian Dan in Qi, Jing Ju in Ying, Zhou Shi in Wei, Han Guang in Yan—bold leaders sprang up in every ravine and pass, too many to list. Yet none of these men sprang from ducal houses or high office; they held not an inch of legitimate power. They came out of the back alleys with improvised weapons, stirred by the moment, acting without prior conspiracy yet rising as one, seizing ground until some stood as kings or hegemons—such was the lesson the age had taught them. Though Qin had worn the imperial crown and owned the wealth of the world, its line was extinguished and its ancestral rites cut short—this is what endless war buys a dynasty. Zhou fell because it grew too weak to act; Qin fell because it clung too fiercely to force. Both perished from the same refusal to change course.
6
Today the court campaigns in the southern tribes, brings Yelang to audience, subdues Qiang and Bo peoples, seizes border prefectures, founds new towns, drives deep into the steppe, and burns the Xiongnu court at Longcheng—and advisers call all of it glorious. That may serve ambitious officials; it is no lasting policy for the empire. The heartland faces no threat that would set village dogs barking, yet we strain the treasury on garrisons thousands of miles away. Bleeding the state dry is no way to care for the people as a father should. To indulge boundless appetite for glory, savor short-term triumph, and pile up lasting hatred with the Xiongnu is no recipe for a quiet frontier. Calamity clings without release; each pause in fighting is followed by a new mobilization. Those nearby groan under the burden; distant peoples tremble at the rumor of arms. No dynasty can last on such a footing. Across the empire men beat mail, hone blades, straighten shafts, and string bows, while grain trains roll east and west without cease. This is the specter that haunts every household. Protracted war breeds mutiny; tangled administration breeds fresh crises. Some frontier commanderies sprawl across a thousand li and hold dozens of walled towns whose geography can choke rival powers as a belt tightens the waist. That strength lies outside the imperial clan, and it bodes ill for the throne. Consider why Qi and Jin fell: their ruling houses withered while great ministerial clans grew too strong to curb. Look lower, at Qin's ruin: savage law, pitiless edicts, and ambition without limit. A modern governor commands more real authority than any of Jin's six ministers; his domain is vaster than a rebel's alley-kingdom; his arsenals hold more than thornwood spears. Should the world shift again, the danger is too obvious to gloss over.
7
Afterward Yan An was appointed Master of the Imperial Horse.
8
Zhong Jun, whose courtesy name was Ziyun, came from Jinan. From boyhood he loved study and won countywide renown for wide reading, sharp debate, and a ready pen. At eighteen he was chosen as a student of the imperial academy. When he went to the yamen for his travel orders, the grand administrator heard reports of his gifts, called him in, was deeply impressed, and struck up a friendship. Zhong Jun bowed once to the governor and left for the capital, where he filed a memorial on state policy. Emperor Wu was struck by the quality of his prose and named him court herald with standing access to the inner palace.
9
He accompanied the sovereign to Yong for the sacrifices at the five shrines, where hunters brought in a white unicorn bearing a single horn and five hooves. About the same time someone presented a freakish tree whose limbs jutted sideways only to fuse back into the trunk. The emperor regarded both prodigies as extraordinary and asked his officials for wide-ranging counsel. Zhong Jun responded with a memorial that read:
10
祿退
The Book of Odes hymns a ruler's virtue; ritual music celebrates deeds handed down from sage-kings. The texts differ, yet they point the same way: they mark where true greatness gathers. The Yue huddle beyond the reeds like waterfowl and fish; our calendar and rites have never touched their ways. As soon as imperial officers reached the frontier, Eastern Ou came in, the king of Min accepted punishment, and Yue itself owed its survival to Han mercy. The northern nomads drift with their herds like animals, with appetites as fierce as wolves'. Even the sage-kings of high antiquity could not fully tame them. The supreme commander took the war-axe in hand and drove the Chanyu headlong into the steppe. The Swift Cavalry general unfurled his standard until Prince Hunye surrendered and adopted Han dress. Thus kindness has soaked the south while awe runs clear across the north. When penalties spare no favorite, promotions reach the humblest talent, posts await true worth, honors hang ready for merit, capable men rise to secure their stipends while the inept step down to manual work, the whole realm becomes your mirror of justice. You walk amid every excellence yet still feel wanting; you hold sagely insight yet refuse to monopolize it; you set the three palaces in proper balance of ornament and plainness and define each office's charge. No ruler who merely mounted Mount Tai for feng and shan rites ever matched that.
11
使
At the founding of a house all institutions are rough; only when the six quarters breathe a single culture and the nine regions run on one thread does a truly enlightened sovereign put the finishing polish on them, so the patrimony may pass down without end. The house of Zhou did not complete its statutes until the reign of King Cheng; only then did propitious omens begin to answer its virtue. Your Majesty outshines sun and moon, bends sage reflection toward perfecting the record, concentrates reverence on the gods, and presents burnt and buried offerings at the suburban shrines until the subtle ether of sacrifice mingles with the spirits and a tide of harmony fills the bright sky. Small wonder strange beasts should present themselves. Once, when King Wu had not yet finished fording the river, a white fish leaped into his barge; he lifted it out for a burnt offering, and the nobles cried, 'Excellent omen!' You have not yet announced the suburban rites to the high gods, yet Heaven sends a beast fit for the altar—clear proof that the spirits accept your worship and that your virtue resonates above. Seize an auspicious season and day to proclaim a new era name, invest the princes along the Yangzi and Huai with bundles of white rushes, and broadcast a glorious title from Yingqiu, echoing the bright mandate so historians may set it down in good order.
12
退
When six wild geese beat their way upwind, the Spring and Autumn Annals read it as ill omen. The white fish leaping into the royal boat betokened favor from Heaven. Omens of light and shadow work by kind: Heaven stirs the birds aloft, and the fish below feel it too. A beast in the wild with twin horns merged as one proclaims that all creatures share a single root. When every branch people turns inward to the throne, it signals that nothing lies beyond the emperor's embrace. Portents such as these foretell tribes who will unbind their hair, cut away barbarian dress, and don caps, sashes, robes, and skirts to receive your civilization. You have only to fold your hands and wait.
13
The emperor was so struck by the memorial that he renamed the reign Yuanshou. Within a few months Yue chiefs and noted Xiongnu princes began leading their followers in to surrender—just as Zhong Jun had predicted.
14
使 使 西 使
During the Yuanding era the court scholar Xu Yan was dispatched to inspect local customs. Xu Yan forged imperial orders and had Jiaodong and Lu cast iron and boil salt on their own. On his return he filed his report and was promoted to assistant director under the Chamberlain for Ceremonials. Imperial Counselor Zhang Tang impeached him for counterfeiting orders with grave consequences—a capital crime. Xu Yan cited the Spring and Autumn principle that a minister abroad may act on his own authority if the altars and the lives of the people hang in the balance. Zhang Tang could press the statute but could not overturn the moral argument. An edict ordered Zhong Jun to examine the case. He questioned Xu Yan: 'In ancient times each feudal state kept its own ways; a hundred li might as well have been a world apart. Envoys hurried between courts because fortune could turn in a breath, so a minister might rightly assume emergency powers without waiting for a written order.' Today the empire is one house under a single wind for ten thousand li, and the Annals teach that the king knows no "outside." You never left the emperor's domain—how can you call that "crossing the border"? Besides, every commandery stockpiles salt and iron; ending the two kingdoms' local monopolies would barely touch the central treasury. What sense is there in pleading the fate of the altars and the people? Zhong Jun pressed further: 'Jiaodong borders Langye to the south and Beihai to the north; Lu lies against Mount Tai in the west and the Eastern Sea in the east—both regions already draw salt and iron from their own ground.' If you reckoned the population and acreage of the four neighboring commanderies, could their usual tools and salt rations not have supplied both kingdoms? Or was there plenty of capacity while the local officials simply failed to manage it? What proves that? You forged orders to cast tools, you say, so peasants would have iron for the spring planting. If Lu were really to fire its forges, the works would need to be readied first; the furnaces could not even be lit until autumn. Does that not flatly contradict what you claim? You had already memorialized three times and received no imperial reply. Not only were you never authorized to act, you forged orders, threw your weight about, pandered to popular opinion, and traded on moral prestige for personal fame—conduct that any enlightened ruler would punish with death. Mencius rejected the notion of bending a cubit to gain eight cubits; Your offense is grave and your supposed public benefit slight. Did you expect execution and press ahead anyway? Or did you count on escaping the law and merely wanted the glory? Xu Yan had no answer left; he confessed and accepted that he deserved death. Zhong Jun reported that Xu Yan had counterfeited orders and acted arbitrarily—conduct unworthy of an imperial envoy—and asked that the case be handed to the censor so Xu Yan could be arrested and sentenced. The throne approved the memorial. The emperor commended Zhong Jun's cross-examination and issued an edict laying out the case for the Imperial Counselor.
15
西 使使 便
Long ago, when Zhong Jun left Jinan to enroll as a student of the imperial academy, he entered the frontier pass on foot, and the gate officer handed him the return-token of split silk. Zhong Jun asked, 'What is this for?' The officer replied, 'It is your return chit; when you come back you must present the matching half.' Zhong Jun said, 'A man of spirit who sets out for the west does not plan to slink home on a return pass.' He threw away the token and walked on. Later, as court herald on an inspection tour of the commanderies, Zhong Jun rode east through the same pass with the imperial credentia staff. The gate officer recognized him and exclaimed, 'This is the young scholar who threw away his chit!' Wherever he went, he reported every useful measure or abuse he observed. When he returned to give account, the emperor was delighted.
16
使使宿祿 使使
When envoys were to be sent to the Xiongnu, Zhong Jun volunteered: 'I have never so much as thrown a blade of grass across the battlefield for the dynasty, yet I have stood in the palace guard and drawn a stipend for five years.' Whenever the frontier flares with war, a subject ought to buckle on armor, take up arms, face arrow and stone, and lead the van. I am a poor hand at war. Now that the court will send an embassy to the Chanyu, I beg to marshal all my wit and zeal as aide to the chief envoy and to lay out before the Chanyu himself where fortune and peril lie. I am young, my talents slight, and I have languished in minor posts without a frontier command worthy of the trust you place in me—the thought leaves me choked with frustration. An edict asked him to spell out what he meant by laying out good and ill fortune. The emperor was so struck by his answer that he promoted him to Grandee Remonstrant.
17
使 使 使
After Southern Yue sealed a marriage alliance with Han, the court dispatched Zhong Jun to persuade its king to come to audience and accept the status of an internal feudatory. Zhong Jun volunteered: 'Give me a long cord and I will bind the King of Southern Yue and haul him to the palace steps.' Zhong Jun went south and won the king's ear; the king agreed to place his entire realm under Han. The emperor was overjoyed. He issued Han seals and ribbons to Yue ministers, extended Han law uniformly to refashion local custom, and ordered the envoys to stay behind to stabilize the new order. The Yue prime minister Lü Jia refused submission, rose in arms, murdered his king, and killed the Han envoys as well. The full story is told in the biography of Southern Yue. He was barely past twenty when he died, and posterity remembers him as 'Zhong the lad'—the boy who never grew old.
18
使鹿
Wang Bao, courtesy name Ziyuan, was a native of Shu. Under Emperor Xuan the court revived Emperor Wu's cultural program: debate on the Six Classics and the wider corpus, a restless taste for the rare and marvelous. It summoned Bei Gong of Jiujiang, famed for his Chu-style verse, heard him recite, and then added brilliant men such as Liu Xiang, Zhang Ziqiao, Hua Long, and Liu Bao to the roster of scholars awaiting summons at the Golden Horse Gate. Between the Shenjue and Wufeng reign titles the empire prospered, and auspicious omens arrived again and again. The emperor himself began writing lyrics and wished to revive the office for tuning pitch standards. Chancellor Wei Xiang recommended Zhao Ding of Bohai and Gong De of Liang, both masters of the classical zither, and they too were summoned to the waiting roster. The governor of Yizhou, Wang Xiang, hoped to bring moral suasion to the common people. Learning of Wang Bao's gifts, he invited him in and commissioned the poems 'Central Harmony,' 'Joy in Duty,' and 'The Proclamation,' then picked enthusiasts to set them to the tune of the 'Deer Call' ode and teach them by singing. Among the choristers was the future Marquis of Fanxiang, He Wu, still a schoolboy. Years later, when He Wu and his companions were students in Chang'an, they sang the pieces below the walls of the Imperial Academy until word of them reached the throne. Emperor Xuan called He Wu and his fellows in to perform, rewarded each with silk, and said, 'Such music belongs to a reign of supreme virtue; how can I deserve it?'
19
Wang Bao had not only written the governor's celebratory verse but drafted his biography as well, and on that basis the governor reported Wang Bao's exceptional gifts to the capital. The emperor thereupon summoned Wang Bao to court. Once he arrived, an edict instructed him to compose a rhapsody expounding the theme 'How a sage ruler wins worthy ministers.' Wang Bao replied:
20
綿 西
A man bundled in felt and coarse fur will not appreciate the fine weave of pure silk; one who lives on millet gruel and dry rations is no judge of the taste of a full royal banquet. I am a rustic from the far west, bred in a back alley and raised under a thatched roof. I have never traveled to broaden my mind; I bear instead the heaviest load of ignorance. I cannot satisfy your lofty expectations or meet the clarity of your command. Yet I would be craven not to sketch my humble thoughts and lay bare my heart.
21
使 輿
The classic says that the crux of the Annals' doctrine of the five beginnings is simply to know oneself and set the true succession straight. Worthy men are the instruments of state. Employ the right men and effort is spared while their good work reaches everywhere; give them sharp tools and little labor yields great results. A craftsman with a dull blade wears himself out from dawn to dusk. Hand that smith the rough ingot of a Gan Jiang blade, let him quench the edge in pure water and true the guard on a Yue whetstone, and the finished sword will slice dragons in the river and rhinoceros hide on land as easily as a comet streaks or a brush draws a line in wet plaster. Set Li Lou to snap the plumb line and Gongshu Ban to true the ink, and terraces may rise five stories and stretch a hundred yards without the least disorder, for master and tool are perfectly matched. Put a plow horse in the hands of a duffer and he will bloody its mouth and splinter his whip without gaining a mile—man panting, horse lathered, both pushed past endurance. Yoke mettlesome steeds at dawn, put Wang Liang on the reins and Han Ai beside the box, and the team flies like a dissolving shadow past cities and through whole provinces as though each stride cleared a low hillock; they race the lightning and hunt the tail of the storm, wheel through the eight directions, and clear ten thousand li between one breath and the next. How boundless that freedom! Horse and driver have become one. He who dons fine summer gauze does not dread the worst dog-day glare; wrap himself in sable and fox and he forgets the bite of deepest winter. Why? Because the right equipment makes readiness easy. The worthy minister is the sage emperor's tool for bringing ease to the realm. That is why he welcomes them with open encouragement, clears a broad path, and draws the empire's finest minds to his side. A ruler who pours out his wit to serve the worthy will lay plans rooted in humanity; one who hunts everywhere for talent will leave the footprints of a true king. The Duke of Zhou interrupted every meal and shampoo to receive guests, and his reward was an age in which the jails stood empty; Duke Huan of Qi lit torches in his courtyard to welcome late-night counsel, and so won the deed of binding the states in alliance. From this we see that the sovereign who toils to find ministers may rule at ease once they are found.
22
退
The same holds for those who serve him. Before a worthy man meets his moment, the ruler ignores every plan he lays, doubts every pledge of loyalty he offers, denies him office where he might prove himself, and casts him aside for faults that are not his own. Yi Yin sweated over the kitchen cauldrons, the Grand Duke Tai peddled from a butcher's block, Baili Xi sold himself into service, Ning Qi sang beside his ox—all to escape that plight. But let them find an enlightened sovereign, and every stratagem strikes home, every remonstrance wins a hearing, every move displays loyalty, every post lets their policy work. They rise from humble toil to stand in the central court, shed hemp shoes for robes of grain-fed silk, take investiture and fief to bring honor to the ancestors, and hand the credit down to their sons as a lesson to every persuader who waits in the cold. So the age must first produce a sage-king; only then can it produce ministers of true clarity. The tiger's roar summons the biting gale; the dragon's ascent draws the rain clouds; the cricket waits for autumn to sing; the mayfly hatches when the yin ether gathers. The Book of Changes says, 'The dragon flies in the heavens: it furthers one to see the great man.' The Odes sing, 'Splendid host of knights, born for this royal house.' When the realm is at peace and the throne is wise, great men come unbidden, as when Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, and Wu won the service of Hou Ji, Xie, Gao Yao, Yi Yin, and Lü Wang—radiant ministers ranked in solemn order, pooling their insight until ruler and subject shine the brighter together. Not even Boya on the Di Zhong harp or Fengmenzi drawing the Wuhao bow could capture the harmony of that meeting.
23
The sage ruler waits on worthy ministers to magnify his achievement, and the brilliant minister waits on an enlightened throne to give full scope to his virtue. When sovereign and minister share one will, they rejoice together in a match made once in a millennium, speaking as freely as a feather on a fair wind or a great fish loosed in the ocean trench. At such a height of concord, what could resist your ban or disobey your command? Your transforming power spills beyond the four seas, rolls on without limit, draws tribute from the farthest tribes, and heaps every kind of blessing at your feet. The sage king need not crane his neck in every direction to see clearly, nor strain his ears to hear acutely; his kindness rides the auspicious breeze, his virtue mingles with the harmonious ether, the weight of perfect peace settles on his shoulders, and the dream of ruling at leisure comes true; he drifts with nature's current in the stillness of wu-wei until good omens come unbidden, his years know no bound, and he may rule with folded hands for endless ages. Why should he need Pengzu's calisthenics or the breathing tricks of Wangzi Qiao and Chisongzi, or cut himself off from the human world to chase immortals? The Odes say, 'Rank on rank of knights—that was how King Wen kept the realm at peace'—and we may trust every word.
24
The emperor was much taken with immortality cults at the time, so Wang Bao touched the theme in his answer.
25
The emperor kept Wang Bao and Zhang Ziqiao on the waiting roster and often took them along on the hunt. Wherever the royal party lodged, Wang Bao would compose a celebratory piece; the emperor ranked the poems and handed out silk according to merit. Critics dismissed such verse as frivolous and beside the point of government, but the emperor replied, 'Confucius himself asked whether a game of chess was not still better than doing nothing at all.' The greater rhapsodies pursue the same ends as the ancient odes; the lighter pieces charm with wit and color. Think of figured damask among weavers or the airs of Zheng and Wei among tunes: the world already delights its eyes and ears with such things. Beside them, rhapsody still carries moral allegory in birds, beasts, plants, and trees—it is infinitely superior to buffoonery or a game of weiqi.' Soon afterward Wang Bao was promoted to Grandee Remonstrant.
26
使
Later the crown prince fell ill with a restless, forgetful melancholy that would not lift. An edict sent Wang Bao and his colleagues to the heir apparent's quarters to divert and attend him, reading aloud day and night from rare literature and from their own compositions. When the prince recovered, they were dismissed to their posts. The heir especially loved Wang Bao's 'Sweet Springs' rhapsody and his 'Eulogy on the Panpipes' and ordered the palace ladies in attendance to memorize them.
27
使
Later a wizard reported that Yizhou held the spirits of the Golden Horse and Green Cock, which might be summoned by sacrifice. Emperor Xuan dispatched Wang Bao to conduct the rites. Wang Bao died of illness en route, and the emperor mourned his loss.
28
Jia Juanzhi
29
Jia Juanzhi, courtesy name Junfang, was the great-grandson of Jia Yi. Soon after Emperor Yuan took the throne, Jia Juanzhi presented a memorial on policy, and the court added him to the scholars awaiting summons at the Golden Horse Gate.
30
使
When Emperor Wu conquered Southern Yue, he founded the commanderies of Dan'er and Zhuya in the first year of Yuanfeng. They lay on islands in the southern sea, stretched perhaps a thousand li from end to end, comprised sixteen counties, and counted a little over twenty-three thousand households. The inhabitants were fierce and lawless, confident that distance shielded them. They broke official regulations again and again, and the magistrates repaid them with cruelty. Every few years they would rise, murder Han officials, and prompt a punitive expedition from the mainland. Between the founding of the commanderies and Emperor Zhao's first Shiyuan year—barely twenty years—there were six full-scale revolts. In the fifth year of that reign Dan'er was abolished and its territory folded into Zhuya. Under Emperor Xuan, in the third Shenjue year, three Zhuya counties rose again. Seven years later, in the first Ganlu year, nine counties mutinied and were again beaten down by Han arms. In Emperor Yuan's first Chuyuan year Zhuya rebelled once more, and the court sent troops against it. County after county changed sides; the turmoil dragged on without end. The emperor and his ministers debated a major mobilization, but Jia Juanzhi argued that conquest was the wrong course. The emperor ordered Wang Shang, the marquis of Yuechang, who served as palace attendant and commandant of household cavalry, to confront Jia Juanzhi. 'Zhuya has been an internal commandery for ages,' he said. 'Now it breaks faith. To refuse a campaign is to encourage barbarian revolt and blot the achievement of the late emperor. What do the classics say to that?' Jia Juanzhi replied:
31
I am blessed to serve an enlightened age that welcomes blunt counsel and imposes no muzzle on loyal speech. I will risk my life to speak plainly.
32
西
Yao and Shun stood at the summit of sagehood; Yu entered that company yet did not surpass them—which is why Confucius called Yao 'magnificent,' the Shao music 'perfect in goodness,' and Yu 'without blemish.' Even those three sages held only a few thousand li of ground—west to the drifting sands, east to the sea—yet their moral voice reached north and south to the rim of the world. They ruled only those who welcomed their teaching and never forced it on those who did not. Ruler and ministers could hymn one another's virtue, and every living creature found its proper place. Wu Ding of Shang and King Cheng of Zhou were paragons of humanity, yet Shang territory reached east only to the Jiang and Huang domains, west only to the Di and Qiang, south only to the Man tribes of Jing, and north only to Shuofang. Praise filled the air, every creature rejoiced in its life, and the Yueshang people sent tribute through nine relays of interpreters—gifts won by virtue, not by the sword. In decline, kings marched south and never came home; Duke Huan of Qi had to rescue the house of Zhou, and Confucius set the record straight in the Spring and Autumn Annals. Then came Qin, which launched distant wars, starved the interior to feed ambition, and grabbed land without counting the cost. Even so Qin never pushed south beyond Min-Yue or north beyond Taiyuan, yet the empire shattered. Calamity struck under the Second Emperor, and the ballad of the Great Wall still haunts us.
33
西 使
Our sacred Han rose in mercy, pleaded Heaven for the people's lives, and brought peace to the world. Emperor Wen, grieving that the heartland was still unsettled, sheathed the sword and promoted civil rule until court dockets numbered only in the hundreds, the poll tax fell to forty cash, and each able-bodied man owed the state only one month's labor every three years. When someone offered a horse said to cover a thousand li a day, the emperor replied with an edict: 'The imperial pennons lead and the train follows; on a peaceful journey I cover fifty li a day, on campaign twenty. Where under Heaven could I gallop alone on such a beast?' He sent the horse back with money for the donor's journey and proclaimed, 'I accept no gifts. Let no region send tribute of this kind again.' At that moment wasteful pastimes died away, lavish bribes dried up, and the lewd music of Zheng and Wei faded from court. A harem crowded with beauties drives the good into hiding; when sycophants hold power, honest advisers fall silent. Emperor Wen would have none of it, which is why posterity calls him 'the Filial and Cultured' and honors his shrine as Taizong. By the sixth Yuanshou year of Emperor Wu the imperial granaries held grain that had rotted to pink dust, and the strings of cash in the capital vaults had decayed so that the coins could not be tallied. He brooded on the humiliation of Pingcheng, reviewed how Modu and his heirs had ravaged the frontier, mobilized armies and bred horses, and drew on the wealthy to fund conquest until the steppe submitted. He linked the western states as far as Parthia, pushed east beyond Jieshi to found Xuantu and Lelang, drove the Xiongnu back ten thousand li, threw up a chain of fortresses, and carved eight commanderies from the southern sea. Court cases mounted into the tens of thousands, the poll tax into the hundreds of cash, and even the monopolies on salt, iron, and wine could not fill the treasury. Banditry flared everywhere. Campaign followed campaign: fathers fell in the van while sons bled in the rear, women mounted the signal towers of frontier posts, orphans screamed along the highways, and gray-haired widows wept in the alleys, offering ghost feasts to souls lost ten thousand li away. The king of Huainan forged the tiger tally and hired secret partisans; east of the passes men such as Gongsun Yong posed as imperial envoys. All of it sprang from overgrown frontiers and endless war.
34
忿
Today all that truly sustains the dynasty lies east of the passes, and the chief weight there falls on Qi and Chu. The people have suffered too long: year after year they flee their homes and sleep in heaps along the roads. Nothing binds the heart like parent and child or husband and wife—yet we now see wives sold and children pawned, beyond the reach of law or shame. This is a crisis for the altars themselves. To indulge a private grudge and march an army into the wastes of the southern sea, chasing satisfaction in a barbarous gloom, is no way to relieve famine or save the common people. The Odes call the Jing tribes 'crafty southern savages, enemies of the great state'—they submit only when a sage-king holds the throne and are first to rebel when China weakens. They have been a running sore since high antiquity; how much more those savages ten thousand li to the south! The Luo-Yue bathe in the same streams with their sons and sip liquor through their noses like animals. They were never fit subjects for Chinese magistrates. They squat alone beyond the sea in fog and rot, among venomous plants, snakes, and tainted water. Our soldiers perish of disease before they ever sight an enemy. Nor does Zhuya alone yield pearls, rhino horn, and hawksbill. To give it up costs little; to leave it unsubdued costs the throne no true prestige. They are fish and turtles in the sea—hardly worth a greedy war!
35
便
Consider the recent Qiang war: the army was in the field less than a year and never marched a thousand li, yet it swallowed more than four billion cash, emptied the agriculture ministry's vaults, and forced the palace treasury to make up the deficit. If a single corner of the realm could burn so much treasure, what would a distant expedition cost in blood and bronze for no gain at all? The policy fits neither ancient precedent nor present need. I would leave unmolested every land that wears neither cap nor sash, lies beyond the world charted in the Tribute of Yu, and falls outside the moral geography of the Spring and Autumn Annals. Abandon Zhuya outright and bend every concern to the starving east of the passes.
36
便
When the memorial was read, the emperor referred it to the chancellor and the Imperial Counselor. Imperial Counselor Chen Wannian urged a full campaign; Chancellor Yu Dingguo replied: 'We have already campaigned year after year. Of eleven generals, colonels, and deputies sent, only two came back alive. More than ten thousand soldiers and transport laborers died, and the cost passed three billion—yet the islanders are not fully subdued. The east is exhausted; the people cannot bear another shock. Jia Juanzhi is right. The emperor accepted their advice. He then promulgated an edict: 'The people of Zhuya have murdered our officials and risen in treason. At court some counsel attack, some garrison, some abandonment—three irreconcilable views.' Day and night I weigh those arguments. Shame at impotent prestige tempts me to extirpate them by force; doubt and fear of the cost tempt me to dig in with garrison farms; a sense of what the times allow turns my heart to the millions who suffer hunger. Which is the greater peril—the hunger of my people or an unpunished tribe beyond the sea? Even ancestral offerings are curtailed in years of famine; how can I court the shame of chasing a pointless slight to the ends of the earth? The east is in desperate straits; granaries are bare and there is nothing left to feed the people. To mobilize another army would not merely exhaust them—it would invite famine in its train. Therefore I abolish the commandery of Zhuya. Those islanders who wish in good faith to submit may be settled where convenient; those who do not wish it shall not be compelled. Thus Zhuya was abandoned.
37
使 使鹿 滿
Jia Juanzhi was summoned often, and much of his advice was taken. Palace Secretary Shi Xian held power at the time, and Jia Juanzhi repeatedly attacked him in memorials—so he never won a substantive post and was seldom called to audience again. Yang Xing, the magistrate of Chang'an, had lately won favor through his abilities and was on close terms with Jia Juanzhi. Jia Juanzhi longed for another summons. He told Yang Xing, 'The governorship of the capital is open. Give me a chance to praise you to the throne, Junlan, and you can have that office at once.' Yang Xing replied, 'The emperor has said I outrank Minister Xue—so you will find me an easy ally.' Your pen and tongue are the finest in the realm. Were you made palace secretary, you would put Wulu Chongzong to shame. Jia Juanzhi said, 'If I replace Chongzong and you, Junlan, take the capital governorship—the premier local post—and I hold the secretariat—the spine of the bureaucracy—the empire would be truly well ruled and no talent would languish in obscurity.' I once said the marquis of Ping'en should be made a general and the marquis of Qisi given bureau posts—and it happened just as I predicted; I recommended the herald Man Xuan, who was promptly named governor of Ji; I argued that inner heralds should not handle state business and that eunuchs should not enter the ancestral shrine—and the court stopped the practice at once. Surely men who recommend each other ought to keep faith like that! Yang Xing said, 'On my next audience I will speak up for you.' Jia Juanzhi again launched a tirade against Shi Xian. Yang Xing said, 'Shi Xian stands at the summit of power; the emperor trusts him utterly.' If you want preferment, brother, follow my advice: humor him for now, and you will win your way in.
38
Jia Juanzhi then drafted with Yang Xing a joint memorial praising Shi Xian: 'We observe that Shi Xian springs from a great Shandong lineage, a house schooled in ritual and duty.' For six years he has upheld integrity without a stain, knows every detail of government, is quick and perceptive, and moves straight from the yamen to his private quarters without detour. He should be ennobled as a marquis within the passes, and his brothers appointed to the chief bureaus. They also filed a joint memorial for Yang Xing: 'We note that the magistrate of Chang'an has won fame and repeated audiences with Your Majesty.' He honors his parents with the devotion of Zeng Shen, serves his teachers with the gifts of Yan Hui and Min Sun, and his good name rings through the realm. When Your Majesty called for men of outstanding talent, the ranked nobles put him at the head of the list. As magistrate of Chang'an he commands the reverence of officials and commoners alike, and travelers on every road praise his competence. Judge him by his prose and you find another Dong Zhongshu; listen to his wit in conversation and you hear Dongfang Shuo; set him among blunt remonstrators and he matches Ji An; put him in armor and he rivals the Champion Marquis; give him a district and he governs like Zhao Guanghan; charge him to serve the public and spurn private interest and he is another Yin Wenggui. Yang Xing unites the virtues of all six: he holds fast to principle, bends duty for no man, and cannot be swayed at the moment of truth. He is a pillar of the state and should be appointed acting metropolitan governor.
39
Shi Xian learned of the scheme and denounced them to the emperor. Both men were jailed. The emperor assigned the empress's father, Wang Jin, marquis of Yangping, and Shi Xian to hear the case jointly. They reported that Yang Xing and Jia Juanzhi had plotted in fraud, trading confidential phrases from the throne to cue each other, exchanging glowing recommendations in hope of high office, leaking palace secrets, and deceiving their sovereign—conduct that violated every principle of loyalty. The Documents say, "Slanderous words and vile deeds shock my hosts of officers." The Royal Regulations add, "Whoever glosses evil with fair speech shall be executed without a hearing." We ask sentence under the statute.
40
Jia Juanzhi was executed in the marketplace. Yang Xing's sentence was commuted one degree from death to shaved head, iron collar, and hard labor on the walls. Under Emperor Cheng he rose to become a regional inspector.
41
The historian's judgment: the Odes pronounce the northern tribes fit for chastisement and the southern states of Jing and Shu fit for punishment—for ages they have plagued the heartland of civilization. With the rise of Han, wars against the steppe and the south reached their greatest intensity. The arguments of the Huainan faction, of Jia Juanzhi, of Zhufu Yan, and of Yan An repay close reading: they are trenchant, lucid, and morally plain, which is why this chapter records their words at such length. Posterity blames Gongsun Hong for sidelining Zhufu Yan, Zhang Tang for ruining Yan Zhu, and Shi Xian for destroying Jia Juanzhi—yet examine how these men lived. Zhufu Yan clawed after the honors of the high minister's tripod and instead won the execution of his entire kin; Yan Zhu and Jia Juanzhi used their passes through the forbidden gates to peddle influence and line their pockets. Each fell by his own doing; there is little cause to nurse a grudge against those who merely 'squeezed' or 'framed' them.
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