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卷六十五 東方朔傳

Volume 65: Dongfang Shuo

Chapter 76 of 漢書 ✓ Translated
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Chapter 76
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1
Volume 65: the thirty-fifth biography—Dongfang Shuo.
2
Dongfang Shuo, whose courtesy name was Manqian, came from Yanci in Pingyuan commandery. Early in Emperor Wu's reign the court summoned men of integrity, literary talent, and practical ability, promising posts outside the normal ladder of promotion. Memorials poured in from every quarter—thousands of men peddling their wares—and those without merit received a polite note of receipt and heard no more. In his first memorial Dongfang Shuo wrote, I lost my parents while young and was raised by my brother and his wife. By thirteen he had mastered literacy; three winters of study gave him all the documentary learning he needed. At fifteen he took up fencing. At sixteen he studied the Odes and Documents until he could recite two hundred twenty thousand characters. At nineteen he mastered Sunzi and Wuzi on war—formations, gongs, and drums—and committed another two hundred twenty thousand characters to memory. In sum I have four hundred forty thousand characters by heart. I try always to live by what Zilu taught. I am twenty-two, stand nine feet three inches, my eyes shine like pearls and my teeth line up like shells; in courage I match Meng Ben, in agility Qingji, in integrity Bao Shu, in good faith Weisheng. A man of such parts may stand as a minister to the Son of Heaven. I risk execution to lay this before you twice over.
3
祿
Dongfang Shuo's memorial was immodest and his self-praise extravagant, yet the emperor was impressed and rostered him at the Public Carriage office—meager pay and no audience in the inner palace.
4
紿 使
After long neglect Dongfang Shuo hoaxed the court dwarf Zhu Ru: His Majesty says you people are useless to the treasury—you cannot outwork farmers, cannot govern if given office, cannot fight if sent to the army; you only eat and wear what the state provides, so he means to execute the lot of you. The dwarfs were panic-stricken and sobbed. Dongfang Shuo told them, When he comes by, throw yourselves on the ground and plead for mercy. Soon they heard the imperial progress approaching and set up a chorus of weeping and kowtows. The emperor asked what the matter was. They said Dongfang Shuo had told them the emperor planned to slaughter every dwarf. The emperor knew Dongfang Shuo's tricks and called him in: Why did you terrify my dwarfs? He answered, I speak my mind in life and in death. Those fellows stand a little over three feet high yet draw one full sack of grain and two hundred forty cash a month. I stand well over nine feet and am paid the same sack and the same two hundred forty cash. They are bloated to bursting while I starve on the same ration. If my counsel is worth hearing, grant me a different scale of treatment; if not, dismiss me and spare the capital's grain. The emperor roared with laughter, moved him to the Golden Horse Gate waiting list, and little by little drew him nearer the throne.
5
使 使
Once the emperor set the diviners a riddle: a gecko hidden under a jar. None could name it. Dongfang Shuo stepped forward: I have studied the Book of Changes; let me try. He cast the stalks and said, It has not the dragon's horn nor the snake's limbless glide; it pads along the wall with a creeping gait—it must be a gecko or a wall lizard. The emperor said, Well guessed. He rewarded him with ten bolts of silk. Further riddles followed; each time Dongfang Shuo hit the mark and silk was piled into his hands.
6
A favorite court jester named Guo Sheren, quick with repartee, always at the sovereign's elbow, said, Dongfang Shuo is a madman; he guessed right by sheer luck, not by true numerology. Let him guess again: if he succeeds I take a hundred lashes; if he fails I claim the silk. They hid a mistletoe sprig from a tree and challenged him to name it. Dongfang Shuo said, It is a nest-thicket—a riddle-word for the parasite under the bowl. Guo Sheren crowed, I knew he could not get this one. Dongfang Shuo said, Raw meat sliced fine is kuai, dried meat is fu; on a tree that growth is mistletoe; under a bowl the same thing is called nest-thicket. The emperor told the master of jesters to flog Guo Sheren until he howled with pain. Dongfang Shuo called out, Hoy! No beard about the mouth, piping shrill as a nestling, haunches reared like a crane. Guo Sheren snarled that Dongfang Shuo had publicly mocked an imperial attendant and deserved execution in the marketplace. The emperor asked why he had insulted the man. Dongfang Shuo said, I did not insult him; I spoke in riddles. The emperor asked what the riddle meant. No hair around the mouth is a dog's burrow; A piping cry is fledglings begging in the nest; Haunches lifted high is a crane stooping to strike. Guo Sheren, still smarting, said, Let me set Dongfang Shuo another riddle—if he fails, he takes the rod in turn. He spouted nonsense: Order—jar—crooked teeth; old—cypress—muddy path; yi-you-ya; mingled growls. What does that mean? Dongfang Shuo said, Order is command. A jar is a vessel. Crooked teeth are snaggleteeth. Age is venerable. A cypress is the courtyard of ghosts—dark and forbidding. Mire is a boggy track. Yi-you-ya is the babble of someone who cannot make up his mind. The snarls are two dogs snapping at each other. Whatever Guo Sheren threw at him, Dongfang Shuo answered in the same breath with wit that never flagged; the whole court stared. The emperor named him a regular palace gentleman, and from then on he basked in imperial favor.
7
使
On a midsummer dog-day the emperor ordered meat distributed to his attendants. The steward's deputy arrived near evening; Dongfang Shuo alone whipped out his sword, carved his share, and told his colleagues, Dog-day leave is short—I am taking my portion home. He stuffed the meat in his robe and walked off. The steward reported him. When Dongfang Shuo was brought in, the emperor said, Yesterday I gave out meat; you carved yours with a sword and left without waiting for my word—why? Dongfang Shuo doffed his cap and apologized. The emperor said, Stand up, Master, and blame yourself! Dongfang Shuo bowed twice and cried, Shuo, come forward! Shuo, come forward! To take a gift without the emperor's word—how rude! To carve meat with your own blade—how bold! To take so modest a slice—how temperate! To carry it home to your wife—how tender-hearted! The emperor laughed and said, I asked you to blame yourself, and you have praised yourself instead! He sent him another stone of wine and a hundred jin of meat for his wife.
8
西 西殿 鹿 使輿 使 宿 使西
In Jianyuan 3 the emperor began slipping out in disguise—north to Chiyang, west to Huangshan, south to hunt at Changyang, east to sport at Yichun. These secret jaunts usually waited until after the ritual tasting of the new ale. In the eighth or ninth lunar months he would meet picked household guards, palace attendants, and crack horsemen from Longxi and Beidi at the palace gates—hence the corps took the name Gate Rendezvous. He left only after the tenth night watch and passed himself off as the marquis of Pingyang. At daybreak he would gallop through the foothills shooting deer, boar, fox, and hare, grapple bears with his bare hands, and thunder across standing grain. Farmers howled abuse, banded together, and claimed to be the magistrates of Hu and Du. When a real magistrate came to call on the marquis, the escort wanted to whip him away. The magistrate exploded with rage. He sent runners to intervene; a few of the hunting party were held until he produced tokens of the imperial equipage, and only then were they allowed to go. He would ride out at night and return at dusk with five days' rations, then appear at audience in the Changle Palace—the emperor loved the sport. Word spread south of the capital that the emperor was often abroad in disguise, but the empress dowager still kept him from roaming too far. Reading the signs, the chancellor and censor ordered the right-flank commandant to patrol east of Changyang and the right metropolitan superintendent to draft peasants to line the emperor's routes. Later he had a dozen discreet lodges built south of Xuqu where he could change dress, rest, and sleep over at Changyang, Wuzuo, Beiyang, and Xuqu—his favorite haunts. Weary of the long rides and the havoc among the people, he sent Wuqiu Shouwang and two mathematicians on the waiting roster to survey every registered field from south of Acheng eastward (one toponym is missing in the text) to west of Yichun, tally acreage and price, and annex the tract as the Shanglin hunting park running to the Southern Mountains. He ordered the capital commandant and the metropolitan superintendents to list idle public land in their counties as compensation for the farmers of Hu and Du. Wuqiu Shouwang's report delighted the emperor. Dongfang Shuo, standing by, offered remonstrance:
9
I have heard that humility and quiet reverence draw Heaven's favor and bring good fortune; while arrogance and wanton luxury draw Heaven's warning in strange portents. You raise tower upon tower, as though none were high enough; and you widen the hunting grounds as though no park were ever broad enough. If Heaven raised no omens against it, you could turn the entire capital region into a hunting park—why stop at Zhouzhi, Hu, and Du? Extravagance beyond the rites draws Heaven's rebuke; even the existing Shanglin seems to me already too vast.
10
西 西西 鹿 西輿
The Southern Mountains wall off the heart of the empire: the Yangzi and Huai lie to the south, the Yellow River and Wei to the north, and from the Long foothills east to the Shangluo uplands the soil is famously rich. Our dynasty abandoned the central plain, drew its capital west of the Ba and Chan rivers south of the Jing and Wei—the dry land sea that let Qin subdue the western tribes and conquer the east. Those hills yield jade, metals, and fine timber beyond counting—the industrial base of the workshops and the livelihood of the common people. There are rice, fruit, silk, hemp, and bamboo in plenty; ginger and taro thrive in the soil, frogs and fish teem in the streams, so even the poor can feed their families without fear of hunger or cold. Between Feng and Hao the earth is so prized that fields once fetched an ounce of gold per mu. (One character is missing in the text.) To ring it off as a park would dry up irrigation, seize the richest farms, drain the treasury above and destroy farming below—throwing away a sure thing for a folly. That is my first objection. You would turn farms into bramble patches for deer, foxes, and wolves, tear down tombs and homes, and send children and elders into exile weeping. That is my second objection. Deep ditches, racing chariots, and a day's sport are not worth imperiling the ruler's life and limb. That is my third objection. To chase ever larger parks while ignoring the farming calendar is no way to enrich state or people.
11
殿
King Zhou of Yin built his pleasure tower and the lords turned against him; King Ling of Chu raised Zhanghua and his people fled; Qin built Epang and the empire fell apart. I am dust beneath your feet, yet I risk death to oppose your will. I deserve execution a thousand times over, but I beg to present the Six Talismans of the Grand Steps so you may read Heaven's warnings—they merit your attention.
12
That day he lectured on the Grand Steps; the emperor named him Grand Counsellor with access to the inner palace and sent a hundred jin of gold. The Shanglin Park was built anyway, just as Wuqiu Shouwang had proposed.
13
殿殿
Zhao Pingjun, son of the Princess of Longlü, married Princess Yi'an. On her deathbed his mother deposited a thousand pounds of gold and ten million cash to ransom any capital crime he might commit, and the emperor agreed. After her death Zhao Pingjun grew insolent, slew his tutor in a drunken rage, and was jailed in the inner palace. As a princess's son the case went to the commandant of justice for sentence. Every attendant pleaded, His mother paid the ransom in advance, and you granted it. The emperor said, My sister in her old age had only this son; with her dying breath she placed him in my care. He wept and sighed a long while, then said, Law is the legacy of the late emperor. To break it for my sister's sake—how could I face the ancestors in the High Temple? How could I face the people below? He approved the death sentence, wept uncontrollably, and the whole court wept with him. Dongfang Shuo stepped up with a toast: The sage king rewards even his foes and punishes even his kin. The Documents say, Without favor, without clique, the royal way runs straight and wide. Both precepts were honored by the Five Emperors and strained even the Three Kings. Your Majesty has done this: every commoner in the realm finds justice, and the empire is the better for it. I raise my cup and wish Your Majesty ten thousand years of life. The emperor withdrew, then at dusk called Dongfang Shuo in to scold him: The classic says, Speak only when the moment is right, and men will not weary of your words. Was your toast today timely? Dongfang Shuo kowtowed bareheaded: Extreme joy floods the yang ether; extreme grief drains the yin. When yin and yang reel, the heart loses its anchor, the spirit frays, and evil humors invade the body. Wine best drives care away. I raised a cup to show that Your Majesty holds straight to justice without favoritism, and to help you set grief aside. I spoke bluntly and deserve death. Earlier, drunk in the palace, he had relieved himself on the hall floor and was charged with lèse-majesté. An edict reduced him to commoner rank on the eunuchs' office waiting list. After this exchange he was restored as gentleman of the palace and given a hundred bolts of silk.
14
滿滿滿 宿 使
The emperor's aunt, the Princess of Guantao—known as the Elder Princess Dou—had married Chen Wu, the marquis of Tangyi. When Chen Wu died she was past fifty, a widow who took Dong Yan as her lover. Dong Yan and his mother had sold pearls for a living; at thirteen he began following his mother to the princess's mansion. Her attendants praised the boy's looks; she called him in and said, I will adopt him and raise him for his mother. She kept him in her household, taught him reckoning, horsemanship, and archery, and had him read histories and tales. At his capping at eighteen he led her carriage abroad and attended her within. Courteous and affable, he was received by the nobility for the princess's sake and was known through the capital as Lord Dong. She urged him to spend freely and win friends, telling the treasury not to bother her unless he drew more than a hundred jin of gold, a million cash, or a thousand bolts of silk in a single day. Yuanshu of Anling, Yuan Ang's nephew and Dong Yan's friend, warned him, You are the princess's secret favorite—a capital offense. What is your long-term plan? Dong Yan said, I have worried for ages but see no way out. Yuanshu said, The emperor lacks a lodge near the suburban altars and must cross the imperial field. Why not have her deed the Changmen park to the throne? That is exactly what he wants. He will know the gift was your idea, sleep without fear, and cease to brood on silencing you. Delay, and the emperor may take it by force—what then for you? Dong Yan kowtowed and said, I shall do as you say. He told the princess; she memorialized the offer at once. The emperor was delighted and renamed her estate the Changmen Palace. Overjoyed, she sent Dong Yan with a hundred jin of gold to thank Yuanshu.
15
輿 殿 殿 使
Yuanshu then arranged Dong Yan's introduction: the princess was to feign illness and skip court. When the emperor called, she said, I owe Your Majesty and the late emperor more than heaven and earth could repay; though I serve as a princess I cannot discharge my debt even in death. If I should die before repaying you, one wish would remain: that you set the state aside awhile, refresh your spirit, turn your carriage from the palace, and deign to visit my poor villa so I may pour wine for you and cheer your attendants. Then I could die content. The emperor said, Why such gloom? You will recover. I only fear a full train of officials would burden you with expense. Soon she recovered and attended court; the emperor brought ten million cash to drink with her. Days later he visited her estate; she met him in a cook's apron like a common hostess, led him in, and seated him. Before they had settled, he said, I would meet the man of the house. She slipped from the dais, stripped her ornaments, and kowtowed barefoot: I have shamed you and deserve death. Yet you have not held me to the law—I kowtow for my capital crime. An edict bade her rise. She dressed again, went to the east wing, and led Dong Yan out. Dong Yan wore the green turban of a servant and jeweled sleeves; he followed her forward and knelt below the steps. She announced, Your servant Dong Yan, private attendant of the Princess of Guantao, kowtows in fear of death. Dong Yan kowtowed; the emperor rose for him. An edict summoned him to don proper cap and robes. Dong Yan rose and went to change. The princess herself poured his wine and served the meal. Dong Yan was toasted as master of the house rather than by name, and the banquet grew merry. She asked the emperor to reward every general, marquis, and attendant with gold, cash, and silk. Dong Yan's favor became famous throughout the empire. Adventurers, athletes, and swordsmen from every commandery flocked to his gate. He often joined the emperor at the Northern Palace and Pingle Park for cockfights, dog races, and polo until the sovereign was wild with delight. Then the emperor prepared a banquet in the Xuanshi Hall for the Elder Princess and ordered Dong Yan brought in.
16
殿
Dongfang Shuo, halberd in hand below the steps, thrust forward and said, Dong Yan deserves execution three times over—how dare he enter this hall? The emperor asked what he meant. First, as a subject he has privately bedded a princess. Second, he corrupts moral teaching, violates marriage rites, and wounds the kingly institutions. Your Majesty is young and should steep yourself in the Six Classics and the models of Yao, Shun, and the Three Dynasties; instead Dong Yan spurns learning, exalts luxury, fills your days with dogs, horses, and sensual delight, and leads you down depraved paths—he is a public scourge and a parasite on the throne. Third, he is the ringleader of this vice. When Lady Bo of Song chose to die in the fire, the lords of the land trembled—will Your Majesty do less? The emperor was silent a long while, then said, The banquet is laid; I will mend my ways hereafter. Dongfang Shuo said, You must not. Xuanshi was the late emperor's formal hall—only lawful business may enter it. Licentiousness slides into usurpation—think of Shu Diao and Yi Ya in Qi, Qingfu in Lu, the rebels Guan and Cai in Zhou. The emperor said, Well said. He canceled the Xuanshi feast, moved the party to the Northern Palace, and had Dong Yan enter by the east stable gate. That gate was renamed the East Crossing Gate. Dongfang Shuo received thirty jin of gold. Dong Yan's star fell from that day; he died at thirty. Years later the Elder Princess died and was buried with Dong Yan at Baling. Afterward princesses and great ladies routinely overstepped ritual bounds—Dong Yan had shown the way.
17
殿 使
In those days the realm had turned to luxury and to chasing profit over farming, and many common folk had drifted away from the plow. The emperor asked Shuo in a relaxed tone, "I want to improve the people's ways. Is there a right path to that?" Shuo answered, "The deeds of Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, Wu, Cheng, and Kang lie so far back in time that even after millennia they are hard to discuss clearly; I would not presume to rehearse them here." Instead I would speak of the reign of Emperor Xiaowen, which the old men still living today actually heard and saw for themselves. Though he was exalted as Son of Heaven and possessed wealth as vast as the four seas, he dressed in plain black silk, wore simple leather shoes, girded his sword with a leather strap, sat on mats of rushes, kept wooden practice weapons without edges, wore undyed clothes without ornament, and strung together official document bags to hang as curtains in his hall; He made moral power his finery and benevolence and righteousness his measure. The whole realm took its cue from him, customs took shape, and the transformation was plain for all to see. Today Your Majesty finds the capital too cramped and plans to build Jianzhang Palace: Phoenix Tower to the east, the Hall of Divine Brightness to the west, advertised as a labyrinth of a thousand gates and ten thousand doors; Timber and plaster are swathed in brocade; hounds and horses wear patterned rugs and tapestries; Palace ladies wear tortoiseshell hairpins and strings of lustrous pearls; Trick chariots are staged, people are trained for reckless races, everything glitters with ornament, and wonders are piled everywhere; Ten-thousand-stone bells are struck, drums roll like thunder, jesters caper, and dancers from Zheng whirl on the stage. When the ruler indulges in such excess, expecting the common people alone to stay frugal and keep to the fields is asking for the impossible. If Your Majesty would truly adopt my plan — haul those ranked curtains into the open crossroads and burn them, retire the racehorses and show the realm they will not be raced again — then Your government might stand comparison with the golden ages of Yao and Shun. The Book of Changes says, "Straighten the root and the myriad affairs fall into line; miss by a hair's breadth, and you are a thousand miles astray." I ask Your Majesty to weigh these words carefully."
18
Shuo might banter and joke, but he read the emperor's mood and spoke bluntly when remonstrance was needed; the ruler often took his advice. From the highest ministers on down, he teased and needled everyone in power and never humbled himself before them.
19
使祿羿
The emperor enjoyed quizzing him, for Shuo had a nimble tongue and a ready wit. On one occasion he asked, "Sir, what kind of sovereign do you take me to be?" Shuo answered, "Not even the heights of Yao and Shun's age, nor the peace of King Cheng and King Kang, gives us a fair yardstick for today." From what I have seen, Your Majesty's merit and virtue rise above the Five Thearchs and outshine the Three Kings. And it is not mere rhetoric: the realm's finest minds truly serve you, and every high office is filled by the right person. It is as though the Duke of Zhou and the Duke of Shao were your chancellors, Confucius your chief censor, the Grand Duke your commander-in-chief, the Duke of Bi your remonstrating counselor at court, Bian Yanzi your captain of the guard, Gao Yao your chief judge, Hou Ji your minister of agriculture, Yi Yin your steward of the palace treasury, Zigong your envoy abroad, Yan Hui and Min Ziqian your court scholars, Zixia your master of rites, Yi your western capital intendant, Zhong You your chief of police, Xie your master of ceremonies for guests, Long Feng your keeper of the imperial genealogy, Boyi your governor of the capital region, Guan Zhong your northern intendant, Lu Ban your chief engineer, Zhong Shanfu your chamberlain for the palace, the Earl of Shen your master of the horse, Prince Jizi of Yanling your keeper of the parks and pools, Baili Xi your commissioner over dependent peoples, Liuxia Hui your chief eunuch, Shi Yu your censor of conduct, Qu Boyu your grand tutor, Kong Fu your tutor to the heir, Sunshu Ao your chief minister to the feudal lords, Zichan your prefect, Wang Qingji your palace gate captain, Xia Yu your ritual cauldron officer, Yi your spearhead guard, and Song Wan your road-clearing escort commander." The emperor burst out laughing.
20
The court at that time teemed with talent, and the emperor pressed Shuo again: "Consider Chancellor Gongsun, the Imperial Counselor (name missing in text), Dong Zhongshu, Xiahou Shichang, Sima Xiangru, Wuqiu Shouwang, Zhufu Yan, Zhu Maichen, Yan Zhu, Ji Yan, Jiao Cang, Zhong Jun, Yan An, Xu Le, Sima Qian, and men of that stamp — all of them learned, articulate, and copious on the page. How do you measure yourself against such company?" Shuo answered, "What I see in them is (lacuna) bared teeth and gums, cheeks swollen like bellows, lips forever flapping, necks craning and chins wagging, legs tangled like knotted cord, rumps welded to haunches, footprints that zigzag like a snake's trail, and a shambling, knock-kneed walk. Unworthy as I am, I flatter myself that I already embody every one of those fine qualities." When Shuo stepped forward to answer, his mild, understated words were always in this vein."
21
使
Emperor Wu had called the best minds to court, weighed what each could do, and put them to work as if he feared he might never hire fast enough. While the empire was busy with the Xiongnu and the Yue on the frontier and with new institutions at home, everyone from Gongsun Hong down to Sima Qian was dispatched abroad or made a regional governor or rose to the highest offices. Shuo had briefly reached grand counselor of the palace, but he usually held only the modest rank of gentleman-attendant and, with Mei Gao and Guo Sheren, hovered at the ruler's elbow cracking jokes. In time he memorialized with schemes for agriculture, war, and national strength, lamenting that he alone had never been given a weighty post and asking to be tried in a serious role. The piece was pure Shang Yang and Han Fei in tone, loose in structure and laced with humor; it ran to many thousands of characters and was never adopted. So he wrote a philosophical dialogue, inventing a guest who rebuked him, to console himself for his low rank. The text begins:
22
The guest reproached Dongfang Shuo: "Su Qin and Zhang Yi each won an audience with a great king and walked away as chief minister; their good fortune lasted for generations. You, sir, have steeped yourself in the ways of the ancient kings and the teachings of the sages; you have memorized the Odes, the Documents, and more of the masters than anyone can count, and committed it all to writing; you have worn your lips thin and your teeth out clutching those texts to your heart. Your devotion to learning is obvious to everyone; you believe your wit unmatched under heaven — no one would deny you are learned and clever. Yet though you have given the sage emperor your utmost loyalty year after year, your title has never risen above attendant-in-waiting and your duties never beyond holding the halberd at court. Are you hiding some moral flaw? Even your own kindred can barely house themselves. How do you explain that?"
23
使
Master Dongfang drew a long breath, lifted his eyes, and said, "That is something you simply are not in a position to understand. Their age was one world; ours is another. How can you equate them? In Su Qin and Zhang Yi's day the house of Zhou was crumbling, the lords ignored the king, might made right, and rival armies carved the realm into a dozen warring states with no clear winner. Strength went to whoever won the talent; ruin to whoever lost it. Of course wandering persuaders flourished. A successful strategist sat in high office, vaults groaning with treasure, granaries overflowing, and left a legacy his descendants lived on for generations. Today nothing of the sort applies. Our sage emperor's virtue overawes the realm; the lords come as guests; the four seas beyond the borders hang from his belt like a sash; the empire sits as steady as an upturned bowl; he moves it as easily as spinning something in his palm. In such a world, what separates the worthy from the worthless? Heaven has its constant course, earth its proper order, and every creature finds its allotted place; soothe the people and they rest; harry them and they groan; honor a man and he becomes a general; break him and he is a prisoner; lift him and he rides the clouds; cast him down and he sinks into the abyss; use him and he is a tiger; ignore him and he is a mouse; even if you mean to give your whole heart to the throne, who can tell whether you will rise or fall? The world is vast, the educated class huge; countless men crowd the capital peddling advice like spokes to a hub. The ruler can summon them all, yet many still starve for want of a meal or never find a patron. If Su Qin and Zhang Yi were reborn today, they would be lucky to land a clerk's job, let alone a regular attendant-in-waiting like me. So the saying goes: different times, different rules."
24
使 使 使
"Even so," he went on, "can anyone afford to neglect self-cultivation? The Odes says, "Beat the drum and ring the bell inside the hall, and the sound carries beyond the walls." "The crane cries from the distant marsh, yet Heaven hears it." Cultivate yourself earnestly, and honor will follow — why doubt it? The Grand Duke lived out benevolence and righteousness; not until he was seventy-two did Kings Wen and Wu put his counsel to use. They believed him, enfeoffed him in Qi, and his line lasted seven hundred years. That is why a gentleman toils day and night and never dares slacken his step. Think of the wagtail on the wing, calling as it flies." The tradition runs, "Heaven does not cancel winter because men hate the cold; earth does not shrink its breadth because men fear the heights; the gentleman does not change his course because petty people shout him down." "Heaven keeps its seasons, earth its contours, the gentleman his steady practice; the gentleman cleaves to what endures; the small man chases every advantage." The Odes adds, "If you never stray from ritual and right, why fear gossip?" Hence the proverb: fish cannot live in water that is too clear; a man who picks at every fault will have no friends. The king's crown hangs beaded curtains before his eyes to dim the glare; Yellow silk plugs his ears to muffle sharp sounds." Even clear sight misses something; even sharp hearing fails somewhere. Reward great virtue, overlook petty slips — that is what it means not to demand perfection of any one man. Set crooked timber straight, but let the tree find its own grain; Coax and soften it, but let it seek its own shape; measure and weigh it, but let the truth declare itself. The sage teaches in just this way because he wants people to discover the lesson for themselves; and what they learn for themselves is quick to take root and broad in reach."
25
輿
"Today's hermits stand aloof like giants without a retinue, scan the past for Xu You and Jie Yu, compare their schemes to Fan Li and their loyalty to Wu Zixu, yet live in a tranquil age where righteousness needs no loud champion. Of course they walk alone with few companions. Why should you find that strange in me? When Yan used Yue Yi, when Qin trusted Li Si, when Li Yiji talked Qi into surrender, advice flowed like water and rulers bent like rings on a chain; every wish was granted, achievements piled up like mountains, and the realm knew peace. Those men simply met their moment. What is odd about that? There is an old line about judging the sky through a bamboo tube, the ocean with a ladling cup, or a bell with a beanstalk — how could you hope to trace its structure, read its grain, or hear its true voice? By that measure, you might as well send a shrew to ambush a hound or a lone piglet to nip a tiger: the moment they meet, they are pulp. What feat is that? To assail a recluse with such bottom-tier folly is to invite entanglement you cannot escape; it only proves you grasp neither circumstance nor timing and end utterly bewildered concerning the great Way."
26
He also composed the dialogue of "Mr. Never-Was," which begins:
27
退 退 便
Mr. Never-Was had taken office in Wu. For three years he had not advanced a single precedent to sharpen the king's judgment, nor stepped back to praise his lord and burnish his own service. He had simply held his tongue. The king of Wu, puzzled, demanded an explanation: "I inherited my ancestors' achievement and rule over a host of worthy men. I rise before dawn and retire late; I have never dared slacken. You, sir, came from afar to settle in Wu and promised to help me govern; I welcomed you with all my heart. For three years I have tossed on my mat, found my food tasteless, shut my eyes to silks and dancers, silenced music in my halls, and steadied my mind, longing to hear whatever counsel you would pour forth. Yet you bring no counsel forward and no praise backward. I cannot approve of that, sir. To hoard talent and hide it is disloyalty; to display it and see no response marks an obtuse ruler. Tell me plainly — is the fault mine?" Mr. Never-Was bowed low and muttered assent. The king said, "You may speak. I am listening with full attention." The gentleman cried, "Alas! Can it be done? Can it truly be done? Easy talk is the hardest thing in the world! Some counsel offends the eye, grates on the ear, and wounds pride even as it saves the listener; other words delight the senses and flatter the mind yet ruin a man in the doing. Without an enlightened sovereign, who could bear to hear the first sort?" The king asked, "Why should that be? They say anyone above middling intelligence can discuss the highest matters." Speak, sir. I am ready to listen."
28
Mr. Feiyou answered: Long ago Guan Longpeng remonstrated fearlessly with Jie and Bigan spoke blunt truth to Zhou. Both gave their utmost loyalty, grieving that royal kindness never reached the people while the masses writhed in disorder. They named the ruler's faults and attacked his vices in order to bring him honor and spare him calamity. Today the opposite happens: straight speech is called slander and treated as breach of fealty. The speaker is broken on the wheel, smeared with false guilt, his ancestors disgraced, and the world mocks his corpse—so the proverb says, Easier said than done. Pillars of state shattered while sycophants swarmed the court—men like Feilian and E Lai, glib frauds who clawed upward with slick tongues and smuggled in every kind of carved luxury to poison the king's mind. They chased whatever pleased eye and ear and called groveling good enough for government. No warning checked their course: they died under the axe, the altars fell, the kingdom hollowed out, good men were driven off or killed, and whispering villains took their seats. Did not the Odes say it? Slanderers know no limit; they set the four quarters ablaze—that is the verse I mean. To cringe, flatter, and simper may win a smile but never mends a realm—no man of true resolve will stoop to that. Yet don a stern face, speak hard truth to scrape evil from the throne and ease the people's hurt, and you will prick a vicious ruler's pride and collide with the law of a dying age. So men who prize their lives refuse office altogether. They heap a hut in the hills, weave a gate of brush, strum a zither, and hymn the old kings until joy makes them forget mortality. Boyi and Shuqi fled the Zhou and starved on Shouyang; later ages honor their humanity. A depraved sovereign is terror enough—again, easier said than done.
29
輿 使便 祿
The king of Wu blanched, pushed away his cushion and side table, straightened his back, and listened. The master said, Jieyu fled the world and Jizi matted his hair and played the madman—both escaped a foul age to save their skins. Had they found an enlightened sovereign, leisure, and an open face, they could have poured out loyal counsel, weighed every peril and profit, steadied the throne above and eased the people below—the way of the Five Emperors and Three Kings would almost have stood within reach. That is why Yi Yin swallowed humiliation, shouldered the kitchen cauldron, and seasoned five flavors to win Tang's ear, and the Grand Duke angled on the north bank of the Wei until King Wen found him. When heart matches heart, every plan succeeds and every counsel is heeded—they had found the right lord. Deep counsel, moral self-rule, spreading kindness below, honoring humanity and duty, rewarding the good, paying the worthy, crushing the wicked, binding far lands in one fabric, and polishing custom—this is how true kings grow great. They did not twist Heaven's pattern nor break human ties; Heaven and Earth chimed in tune and distant peoples came willingly—hence they are called sage-kings. Once their service was complete, they received fiefs, noble rank, and lines that still shine in history—the people praise them yet because they met Tang and King Wen. The Grand Duke and Yi Yin won such ends; Longpeng and Bigan the other—is that not tragedy? So again: easier said than done.
30
綿綿 調
The king of Wu sat silent, brooding, then lifted a face wet with tears and cried, Alas! That Wu still stands, generation after fragile generation, is peril itself—that our line is not yet extinct! He then set the Bright Hall court in order, ranked high and low, promoted talent, spread kindness, practiced humanity and duty, and rewarded merit; he lived plainly, cut harem expense, and thinned the royal stables; he banned the lewd airs of Zheng, drove sycophants off, shrank the kitchens, and shed excess; he lowered palace roofs, tore down hunting parks, filled ponds and ditches, and gave the land to the landless poor; he opened the vaults to aid the destitute, sheltered the aged, and cared for widows and orphans; he lightened taxes and eased the penal code. Three years of such rule brought quiet to the seas, harmony to the realm, balanced yin and yang, and every creature its proper place; no calamity struck the state, no face showed famine, every home had enough and granaries overflowed, and the jails stood empty; phoenixes alighted, unicorns roamed the suburbs, sweet dew fell, and crimson auspicious grass sprouted; barbarians from afar caught the breeze of his virtue, took office, and came to offer tribute. The line between order and ruin is plain as this, yet no ruler will walk it—your servant counts that a grave mistake. The Odes say, In the royal domain they are born—the timbers of Zhou; rank on rank of officers—that was how King Wen kept the peace. That is the sense of it.
31
殿
Of Dongfang Shuo's writings, these two essays are the finest. The remainder—his pieces on the Feng sacrifice at Mount Tai, the rebuke to the He-family jade, the birth prayer for the crown prince, the screen, the hall cypress pillars, the Pingle hunt rhapsody, suites of eight- and seven-syllable lines, and the skit on borrowing a carriage from Gongsun Hong—comprise everything Liu Xiang catalogued under Dongfang Shuo's name. The other anecdotes told of him in later times are untrue.
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