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卷五十 列傳第二十 曹志 庾峻 郭象 庾純 秦秀

Volume 50 Biographies 20: Cao Zhi; Yu Jun; Guo Xiang; Yu Chun; Qin Xiu

Chapter 50 of 晉書 · Book of Jin
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1
Cao Zhi
2
Cao Zhi, courtesy name Yungong, came from Qiao in the Principality of Qiao. He was a natural son of Prince Si of Chen, Cao Zhi, of Wei—the celebrated poet-prince whose name is written with the same characters as his son's. From boyhood he loved learning and was praised for talent and character: unassuming, broad-minded, and also a capable horseman and archer. His father said, "This is a son who will keep our house secure." He named him heir. He was subsequently given the princely title of Jibei. While Sima Yan still held the post of General Who Comforts the Army and had gone to Ye to welcome the Prince of Chenliu, Cao Zhi sought a nighttime audience. The two talked from dusk until dawn, and Sima Yan was deeply struck by him. After Sima Yan accepted the abdication and ascended the throne, Cao Zhi was reduced in rank to Duke of Juancheng county. An edict declared: "In antiquity, even as one mandate succeeded another, the bloodlines of earlier houses often kept their altars—some enfeoffed across the submissive regions, others enrolled in the ruler's bureaucracy. Choosing worthies wherever they are found and favouring only virtue—that is the path of perfect impartiality. The princes and dukes of Wei have long kept their talents hidden and gone unused. Though an edict already called for their careful selection and posting, many offices have lately stood vacant, and proper placement has yet to come. As for the former Prince of Jibei, Cao Zhi, he practices virtue with singular purity, combines high talent with spotless conduct, and delights in antiquity and wide learning—an ornament of the Wei imperial clan. We hold him in high regard. Cao Zhi is hereby appointed Administrator of Leping." While governing the commandery Cao Zhi submitted a memorial arguing that Confucian learning and the Way deserved renewed emphasis, and asking that the doctoral scholars be allotted clerks and guard details. He was promoted to serve as Administrator of Zhangwu and then of Zhao commandery. Though he served in several commanderies, he showed little zeal for paperwork—hunting by day, reading the Classic of Poetry and the Documents by night, finding his ease in music and company. Contemporaries who watched him could not yet read the depth of the man.
3
Early in the Xianning era an edict declared: "Duke of Juancheng Cao Zhi combines steady character with plain living, wide scholarship with sound judgment. He belongs among the literati who may enlarge the education of the heir-apparents. Appoint him Palace Attendant-in-ordinary and Doctoral Lecturer at the National University." Sima Yan once read the Treatise on the Six Dynasties and asked Cao Zhi, "Did your royal father compose this?" Cao Zhi answered, "My father kept a catalogue in his own hand. Allow me to go home and check it against that record." When he came back he reported, "The catalogue contains no such title." The emperor asked, "Who did write it, then?" Cao Zhi said, "From what I have learned, it was the work of my kinsman Cao Jiong. Because his own father's literary name stood so high, Cao Jiong hoped the essay would endure under that name, and therefore published it under borrowed authorship." The emperor replied, "Such things are common enough in the record of the past." Turning to the assembled nobles he added, "Father and son have attested to the facts; that is proof enough. Henceforth no one should doubt the matter."
4
He was subsequently promoted to Libationer of the National University. When Prince Sima You of Qi was preparing to leave for his princely fief, the court referred the matter to the Chamberlain of Ceremonies to decide what honours and ritual gear should be granted. Erudits led by Qin Xiu argued that the Prince of Qi should stay at court to steady the government rather than be sent out to a regional apanage. Cao Zhi still nursed the old wound of his father's thwarted career in Wei, and once said in bitter sorrow, "When a man wields such talent and bears such closeness to the throne, how can he be denied a place at the capital to nourish the state, and instead be banished to some remote corner by the sea? If this is the court's policy, how can the Jin dynasty hope to flourish?" Thereupon he drafted a memorial: "I have learned that the Grand Marshal, Prince of Qi, is ordered to his fief in the east with full panoply of gifts and rites, his dignity equated with the two great bulwarks of Zhou. Your Majesty reigns as a true sage; ministers of the caliber of Ji and Xie serve at your side. Within the palace you have princes as close as the ancient dukes of Lu and Wei; beyond it you have bulwarks like Qi and Jin. To preserve stability from the throne is to lay a foundation meant to last for ages. History's model guardians of the throne were men like the Duke of Zhou for royal kin or the Grand Duke Wang for outsiders—both kept their persons at the capital and, even after generations of service abroad, were brought home to lie with their ancestors. Later ages produced the so-called Five Hegemons: rulers like Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin who ruled by cunning. Their vassals pressed for rites reserved for a king—tunnel entrances to their tombs—while the hegemons themselves pressed upward for the "nine ritual gifts" meant to signal abdication. Such power never rested on legitimate authority; history shows it always ends with a vassal too bloated for his lord to control. How can that arrogant rising of ministers be mentioned in the same breath as the Duke of Shao's hymn to brotherhood in The Elder Brothers, or the loyal reproof voiced in the ode The Owl? At the founding of a dynasty like ours, what is not settled honestly at the outset can scarcely be put right later. A weak trunk cannot bear luxuriant branches. Without bone and marrow beneath, the skin has nothing to rest on. From the age of the legendary rulers onward, no single clan has ever monopolized the realm forever. He who would win men's loyalty must offer them a bulwark as immovable as stone. He who seeks a blessing that lasts many lifetimes must consult the realm at large. Thus the wisdom attributed to Heaven is drawn from the wisdom of the human community itself. Qin and Wei tried to hoard all power in their own hands—and succeeded only in destroying themselves. Zhou and Han shared their advantages with many hands and so turned both kinsmen and outsiders to account. Such is the far-sighted policy of wise sovereigns—plain as sunlight and moonlight. Even a seemingly small matter calls for the deepest counsel. Even words spoken lightly deserve the most serious reflection. I hold a merely nominal place among the ritual specialists; if what I say falls short of propriety, then I am no better than a thief dressed in scholar's robes. To see what duty requires and hold silence is something my conscience will not allow. Cao Zhi believed the court should adopt the erudits' recommendation." When the memorial was ready to go up, he met his cousin Cao Jia, Duke of Gaoyi. Cao Jia warned him, "This memorial cuts deep. Historians will note it—but are you ready for the anger you will draw today?" When the emperor read the memorial his wrath flared. "If Cao Zhi cannot read my mind," he cried, "what hope is there for the four seas?" On the grounds that the memorialists had strayed from the brief and stirred irrelevant controversy, he dismissed Zheng Mo from the chamberlainship by rescript. The bureaus then asked that Cao Zhi and his colleagues be seized on charges of conspiracy. The emperor would go no further than stripping Cao Zhi of office while letting him retire to his ducal mansion; the others he sent to the Commandant of Justice.
5
Soon afterward Cao Zhi was restored to his former post as Palace Attendant-in-ordinary. When his mother died he mourned so extravagantly that he broke down in health; joy and anger thereafter slipped beyond his control. He died in the ninth year of the era; the Chamberlain of Ceremonies proposed withholding a favourable posthumous title. Cui Bao reminded them, "Wei Ke earned the posthumous epithet Steadfast precisely because he refused a father's insane order, knowing that illness—not defiance—had caused the confusion. To fix a cruel posthumous verdict on Cao Zhi by citing his mental collapse is to pretend his ailment was not the very sort of disorder that excused Wei Ke's father—not a fair reading of precedent at all." On that reasoning they settled on the posthumous name Ding (Steadfast).
6
Yu Jun
7
退 退
Yu Jun, courtesy name Shanfu, came from Yanling in Yingchuan commandery. His grandfather Yu Cheng combined wide learning with a celebrated reputation. The Han Excellency over the Masses called him to office and he was nominated as a man of high principle, yet he declined every appointment. His uncle Yu Ni, chosen as a local merit assessor, was known for plain integrity; he rose under Wei to Grand Coachman. His father Yu Dao lived modestly, withdrew from ambition, and kept such stern integrity that he never took office. Yu Dao refused to sell cattle or horses known to kick or bite, lest they injure buyers in the market. Once his sons had risen to distinction, the court honoured him with the title of Grand Palace Grandee. Yu Jun loved learning from boyhood and showed a ready wit. During a visit to the capital he heard that the veteran scholar Su Lin lay ill at home, and he went to pay his respects. Su Lin had once studied under Yu Cheng. When he saw Yu Jun he wept and said after a long silence, "Your grandfather was a man of towering ability yet modest habits—kind, generous, quiet, and little interested in worldly gain. He cared only for cultivating character. Yanling once counted fifty or sixty thousand households; today I hear there are only a few hundred left. Your father and uncle were only infants when the realm convulsed, yet they alone survived to this day. Your uncle is one of the age's chief talents, and you brothers are rising stars beside him—all of it fruit of the virtue your grandfather laid up."
8
駿
He served as headquarters clerk in the commandery, was nominated as accounting officer, and the province summoned him as a staff retainer. When Chamberlain Zheng Mao met Yu Jun he was so impressed that he nominated him for a doctorate. At court the Zhuangzi and Laozi were all the fashion while the Classics and histories languished. Fearing that the high culture of the Confucian tradition would fade, Yu Jun buried himself in the orthodox canon. On the occasion of Duke Cao Mao's visit to the Imperial Academy, the young emperor quizzed Yu Jun on the Documents. Yu Jun drew on the glosses of the masters, unfolded the text layer by layer, and unraveled every knotty passage with patient clarity. He was promoted to assistant director of the Palace Library. A major lawsuit had stalled for months in Chang'an; the court named Yu Jun Attendant Censor and sent him to settle it. Both capital and province praised the outcome as just. When Sima Yan mounted the throne he ennobled Yu Jun as Marquis Within the Passes, advanced him through chief clerk of the Ministry of Works to director of the Palace Library and censor-in-chief, then appointed him palace attendant with the added title of grand counsellor of the household. While attending Sima Yan's lectures on the Classic of Poetry, he crossed swords with Household Grandee He Shao over what counted as orthodox or declining lyrics in the Airs and Elegances; after several rounds of debate no one at table could break his argument.
9
退 祿 滿 退 退 祿使 祿 使 退 輿 退 退使 使
Public manners had turned brutally competitive; deference and yielding were everywhere eclipsed. Yu Jun submitted a memorial: I have heard that among the common people the multitude is large but the worthy are few; establish offices and divide duties, and offices are few while the worthy are many. Creating many offices to accommodate the worthy obstructs good governance; abandoning the worthy for lack of office abandons the Way. Therefore the sage king governs the age by following human nature: some serve in office, others withdraw from it. Hence there are men of the court and men of the mountains and forests. Men of the court assist the ruler in completing the transformation of society, like the arms, legs, heart, and sinew that together make one body. Men of the mountains and forests wear coarse cloth while cherishing jade within. The highest dwell in garden and grove; their lofty integrity stands above the common crowd. The next rank lightly esteem titles and robes and keep far from shame and disgrace to preserve their purpose. The lowest still take office, but without seeking merit and knowing when to stop. Their purity and strength are enough to check greed and corruption; their willingness to yield is enough to still petty strife. Thus men at court, hearing their example, are moved with admiration, and those about to receive rank are ashamed that they do not measure up. That is why recluses and ministers who shun favor are admirable, and why former kings praised them. Though their conduct withdraws from the world, their virtue still accords with the ruler; though their ways seem strange at court, their contribution equals that of active government. Therefore the greatest received commissions of jade and silk, the next received the rites of stool and staff. With deep virtue bearing all things, both service and withdrawal had their proper place. The court was filled with worthy talent, yet men in retirement still remained true gentlemen. That was the magnanimity of the former kings. Qin blocked this path and confined profit to a single track of office. Men who bore the name of retired scholar but held no rank at court Shang Yang called the six pests and Han Fei the five banes. The age no longer recognized virtue; only rank was heard. Thus a man of fifth rank in the lanes would insult his neighbors, and a langzhong or higher would look down on his father and elder brothers. The founding emperor of Han reversed this and thoroughly overturned that evil. He entrusted the realm to Xiao He and Cao Can and honored the Four Whiteheads of South Mountain. Zhang Liang, for all his merit, was ranked after Shusun Tong; though Old Master Gai was humble in station, Chancellor Cao consulted him on affairs of state. When emperors and kings valued virtue above, custom below also returned to fundamentals. Thus Tian Shu and ten like him were unmatched among Han ministers, yet never sought salary from their age. Though exalted in rank, Zhang Shizhi tied Wang Sheng's socks at court—and his reputation grew all the greater. Unless ruler and ministers alike honored virtue and universal care, who could harmonize the will of the empire on so grand a scale? If one does not reform the abuses accumulated over many reigns but only pursues expedients to save the age, scholars will compete in cleverness to gain office and soldiers will rely on force to push ahead. Rank grows ever higher, yet ambition is never satisfied; Merit is rewarded, yet desire does not cease. Moreover the state has no system of appointing men according to talent, and custom no longer shames those who press forward easily and withdraw with difficulty. Once rank is high, a man is not demoted though he achieves nothing; even after failure he may later be employed again. Thus promotion by inheritance alone blocks the path of the worthy recluse. And because promotion and dismissal follow no clear rule, all under Heaven compete first and yield only afterward; men everywhere advance but never withdraw. Great men are drowned by prevailing fashion, those in power bend to clamor, and the scales lose their balance. How then can clear and turbid be told apart? Former kings feared that the very means by which the realm had been won would become abuses. Therefore when the work is accomplished its instruments must be changed, and when the enterprise is settled its teaching must be altered. Though rank and salary are used to employ subordinates, ministers need not become greedy and overbearing; though arms and armor settle achievement, the ruler need not regret endless war. I humbly suggest that in antiquity grandees at seventy hung up their chariots. Now, except for men of the highest merit, national elders, and the foremost talent of the Three Departments, men should be permitted to retire at seventy. Then gentlemen would no longer be suspected of clinging to salary. If parents are eighty, sons should be permitted to retire completely to care for them. Then nothing would be greater filial piety than serving one's parents. If officials who repeatedly failed in trial were, by ancient rule, barred from office for life, government would be free of chaff. If a man proves fit for lesser posts but not for greater ones, he should be demoted back to lesser office. Then men would be employed according to their capacity. If the ruler advances and dismisses men by ritual, ministers too will accept rank only according to their measure. There are men filial like Wang Yang, who resigned at the Nine Bends; scrupulous like Gong Yu, who once removed his cap never put it on again; and men who knew when to stop, like Wang Sun, and were content, like Shu Guang. Though they left office and lived in retirement, in speaking with fathers they spoke with kindness, and in speaking with sons they spoke with filial duty. Their words accorded with the standards of the state, and their lofty conduct shone in their own age. They cast off power like worn shoes, and passersby wept for them; they declined favor with the firmness of metal and stone, and even common men were moved to better conduct. Therefore former kings approved such conduct, and sages prized it. Human nature presses upward as water presses downward: add without stopping and it must burst; rise without stopping and one must come to ruin. What begins with common men failing in conduct may end with the imperial carriage itself brought to ruin. This cannot be treated lightly. When subordinates all press forward with one mind, superiors should use withdrawal and yielding to remove the worst excesses. Withdrawal cannot be forced by punishment. Better to let court officials sometimes follow their own inclination and let men of the mountains and forests emerge from time to time. Do not let those who enter office be unable to leave it, or those who withdraw be unable to return. Then service and withdrawal will both flourish, the scales will stand level, strife will disappear from the age, and all under Heaven may be transformed.
10
He likewise loathed the age's love of display and neglect of substance, and composed a polemic against it—the editors omit the essay here on grounds of length. He died in the ninth year of the Taishi era; the court sent one full set of court dress, a suit of clothes, and three hundred thousand cash for his funeral. On his deathbed he ordered his son Yu Min to bury him the same evening he died, with no imported finery—only hemp headcloth and plain robes—and without fussing over an auspicious burial day. Yu Min followed those instructions to the letter, laying his father out only in the clothes of the season. He had two sons, Yu Min and Yu Ai.
11
Yu Min
12
= 使
Yu Min, courtesy name Ziju—the stray mark before his name is an edition artifact. He was guileless, affable, devoted to learning, and governed himself with loyalty and tolerance. While still young he rose through palace attendant-in-chief, local merit assessor for his princedom, palace attendant, and received the barony of Changcen. When Emperor Huai fell captive to Liu Yuan (Liu Yuanhai), Yu Min accompanied him to Pingyang. At one of Liu Yuan's banquets the Jin emperor was forced to serve wine to the guests. Yu Min, unable to choke back grief, bowed twice as he presented the cup, then burst into open weeping. The rebels took an instant dislike to him. When someone accused Yu Min, Wang Jun, and others of plotting to help Liu Kun, Liu Yuan seized the excuse to move against the emperor; Yu Min and his fellows were put to death. Before Luoyang fell, Yu Min was on duty as a palace attendant in the ministries. He once told his colleague Xu Xia, "The times have turned this vicious; disaster is at our door—I expect to die in this very hall!" In the end he did not escape the fate he foresaw. Late in the Taiyuan era the court posthumously honoured him with the name Zhen (Steadfast).
13
Yu Ai, younger brother of Yu Min.
14
= 滿
Yu Ai, courtesy name Zisong—the stray mark before his name is an edition artifact. He stood under seven feet tall yet girded a waist ten spans round, carrying an air of distant, understated elegance. As chancellor of Chenliu he refused to let paperwork fret him—he drank deep, took life as it came, and let events pass like water. In a throng he seemed to stand apart, self-contained and untouchable. Once, reading the 《Laozi》 and the 《Zhuangzi》, he remarked, "These texts voice exactly what most of us feel but never say aloud." Grand Commandant Wang Yan held him in the highest regard.
15
Seeing endless peril closing in on the throne, Yu Ai knew calamity would find him too; he wrote the Rhapsody on Intent to steady his heart, much as Jia Yi once wrote the Rhapsody on the Owl. The piece opens: "The highest truth folds back into primal unity; honour and disgrace run on the same string. Since life and death are already level, why lament once duty ends and death arrives? Every creature is set on its course before a beginning can be named; only when the appointed hour comes is the pattern plain. If spring, summer, autumn, and winter rotate in their proper round, how can anyone keep the present moment at arm's length? What sense is there in calling one span long and another short, except where passion clings too fiercely? The lineage runs unbroken from root to tip; the greatest virtue is to release private craving. Even the twitch of the smallest worm is spirit at work; fool and sage alike are fashioned from the same stuff. The perfected man sheds the world's grime, while human nature stretches wide without a farther shore. He races through the boundless inner courtyard and rests his frame in the silent, empty lodge. Heaven and earth are briefer than a mayfly's morning; aeons flash past before the first dawn breaks. Glance backward and the universe shrinks to half a speck of down. He drifts in dark immensity—depth without limit, desolation without charm. Suddenly he shares one body with spontaneity itself, melting and pouring away on every side." His nephew Yu Liang read the work and asked, "If you still harbour intent, no poem can exhaust it; if you have left intent behind, what is left for a rhapsody to say?" Yu Ai replied, "Between having intent and having none—that is where I stand!"
16
簿
He rose to director in the Ministry of Personnel. The age seethed with intrigue and sudden shifts, yet Yu Ai stayed quiet and let events run their course. He served on Grand Mentor Sima Yue of Donghai's staff, then moved to the post of army libationer. Yue's bureau glittered with talent, yet Yu Ai usually stood apart with folded arms, refusing to jostle for favour. Guo Xiang of Henan, chief clerk to the governor of Yuzhou, excelled at the 《Laozi》 and 《Zhuangzi》; contemporaries ranked him just below Wang Bi. Yu Ai knew his worth and used to say, "Guo Zixuan has nothing to fear beside Yu Zisong." Later Guo Xiang became chief clerk to the Grand Mentor, running business with a heavy hand. Yu Ai told him plainly, "You are a leading intellect of our day, but the esteem I once felt for you is spent."
17
輿 穿 輿
Yu Ai enjoyed towering repute among the silk-robed elite, yet he piled up riches, and gossips mocked him for it. Wen Jiao of the capital bureau denounced him, yet Yu Ai only grew to admire Wen Jiao, likening him to a thousand-foot pine: knotted and rugged, yet the timber you want for a palace ridgepole. Liu Yu then enjoyed Yue's confidence and ruined many colleagues; only Yu Ai kept his heart outside the fray, offering no foothold for intrigue. Knowing Yu Ai was tight-fisted yet rich, Liu Yu talked Yue into ordering him to put up ten million cash for an exchange, expecting miserliness that could be turned against him. Before the whole company Yue raised the demand. Yu Ai was dead drunk by then—his turban slipped onto the crossbow rack and he fished it back by threading his head through the slit—then drawled, "I keep twenty million at home; help yourself to whatever share you like." Liu Yu dropped his scheme in admiration. Sima Yue was delighted and remarked, "Never gauge a gentleman's mind with a small man's calculus." Wang Yan refused his friendship, yet Yu Ai pursued his company relentlessly. Wang Yan said, "You cannot force this." Yu Ai shot back, "Call me 'lord' if you wish; I'll still call you darling if I wish. I follow my family's customs; you follow yours." Wang Yan could only marvel. When Shi Le rose in revolt, Yu Ai died alongside Wang Yan at the age of fifty.
18
Guo Xiang
19
簿
Guo Xiang, courtesy name Zixuan, showed a sharp logical mind early on, delighted in the 《Laozi》 and 《Zhuangzi》, and shone at qingtan debate. Wang Yan used to say, "Hearing Guo Xiang speak is like watching a cataract hang in the air: it floods out and never runs dry." He declined every provincial and commandery appointment. He lived quietly at home, passing the time with essays and treatises. Later he accepted a retainer's post under the minister of education and worked his way up to gentleman at the Yellow Gates. Sima Yue of Donghai made him chief clerk to the Grand Mentor and leaned on him heavily. Guo Xiang soon monopolized power, searing court and camp alike, and men of principle quietly withdrew their respect. He died of illness at the close of the Yongjia era, leaving twelve commemorative essays.
20
Before his day dozens of scholars had glossed the 《Zhuangzi》, yet none had mapped its full design. Xiang Xiu went beyond older commentaries with a brilliant new reading that opened the text's subtleties and gave new life to Dark Learning—only the 《Autumn Floods》 and 《Perfect Joy》 chapters remained unfinished when he died. His son was still a child, so the manuscript fell apart, though stray copies still circulated. Guo Xiang, a man of thin integrity, saw that Xiang Xiu's gloss was not in wide circulation and appropriated it as his own. He added fresh notes only on 《Autumn Floods》 and 《Perfect Joy》, revised 《Horse's Hoofs》, and for the rest merely tweaked wording here and there. When Xiang Xiu's authentic draft resurfaced, the world ended up with two 《Zhuangzi》 traditions—Xiang's and Guo's—though the doctrine is really one.
21
Yu Chun
22
簿 西 忿 祿
Yu Chun, courtesy name Moufu, commanded wide learning, moral clarity, and was revered as the age's leading Confucian. The commandery made him chief clerk; he joined the southern campaign staff, rose through gentleman at the Yellow Gates to marquis within the passes, then served as palace secretariat director and governor of Henan. Early on, seeing Jia Chong's treachery, Yu Chun joined Ren Kai in urging that Chong be posted west to guard Guanzhong—an affront Chong never forgave. At a banquet Jia Chong gave for courtiers Yu Chun arrived late. Jia needled him, "You usually elbow your way to the front; why drag in last today?" Yu Chun answered, "A petty market errand detained me this morning—that is why I am late." Wits said Yu Chun's forebears had once been market constables while Jia Chong's had been market bosses—barbs the two men now traded openly. Jia Chong, puffed up by rank and reputation, fumed more than ever. When Yu Chun pressed him to drink, Jia Chong refused to lift his cup on cue. Yu Chun snapped, "An elder raises his cup in blessing—how dare you ignore it?" Jia Chong retorted, "While your aged father goes unsupported at home, what right have you to lecture others?" Yu Chun's temper broke: "Jia Chong! The realm is sliding into chaos, and you alone are the cause." Jia shouted back, "I have served two emperors and crushed Ba and Shu—what crime have I committed to unsettle the realm?" Yu Chun answered, "Then where is Duke Cao Mao of Gaoguixiang?" The guests scattered in silence. Jia Chong's guards moved to seize Yu Chun, but Army Protector Yang Xiu and Palace Attendant Wang Ji shielded him until he could slip away. Smarting with humiliation, Jia Chong memorialized to resign his posts. Yu Chun, frightened, returned the seals of the Henan governorship and his marquisate and filed a self-accusation that read: Minister of Works Jia Chong had asked that all chief ministers and military officers be consulted, myself included. I overestimated myself and drank far too much. Drunk and disorderly while passing the cup, I pressed Chong again and again to drink; he refused, words flew back and forth, and he rebuked me for leaving an aged father unsupported at home, calling me "without Heaven and Earth." Instead of accepting guilt and withdrawing, I only grew angrier, shouted Chong's name aloud, and on the spot raised such a clamor that I crossed every line of decency. Ritual's "eighty-and-ninety regulations" exist precisely because old age is uncertain and disaster may come at any time. I failed to honor the debt of life and care for my aging father, clinging instead to salary and rank—worse even than the birds that feed their parents. Chong, as one of the Three Dukes charged with guiding the realm and promoting moral transformation, was right to reproach me with instruction in righteousness. But I perverted wrong into right, as a subordinate offending my superior—drunk, reckless, and utterly disordered in ritual decorum. Ordinary as I am, I was raised to a high and conspicuous office. The Book of Changes warns against drowning one's head in wine; the Analects warns against wine's ruin—yet when I heard righteous reproof I would not submit, reckless words filled the hall, I slighted the high ministers of state, violated the law, and can no longer serve as any model. I ask that the court remove me from office, the Commandant of Justice fix my guilt, and the Grand Herald strip my title and fief. I failed to keep proper discipline over myself and now prostrate myself, awaiting judgment and punishment.
23
忿
Palace attendant censor-in-chief Kong Xun indicted Yu Chun and asked that he be cashiered. The edict intoned: "Ancient kings exalted hierarchy, fixed noble and base in their places, praised self-restraint, and warned against drowning in wine—all to spread the Way and give the realm a mirror. Once a Guanghan man insulted his chancellor and earned the penalty for lèse-majesté; Guan Fu vented drunken spite and paid with his life. Yu Chun, a man of middling gifts, sits among chief ministers yet spurns humility, ignores the lesson of the overturned cart, insults his betters, and lets reckless words fly from his lips. He should be disgraced in public to restore court decency." Yu Chun was stripped of office.
24
使 忿 西 退 使 宿 忿 忿
The court added a charge that he failed to care for an aged father and asked the ritual code to judge his guilt. Grand tutor He Zeng, grand commandant Xun Yi, and general of agile cavalry Prince Sima You ruled: "Any verdict must rest on ritual and written law. At eighty, one son may stay home from office; at ninety, the whole household may stand aside. The new code says the same. Yu Chun's father is eighty-one; of six brothers, three remain at home, so the old man is not left unattended. Yu Chun's choice not to resign therefore breaks neither ritual nor statute. The minister of works noted that Yu Chun sat among chief ministers and ought to set an example above the common run. Yet Yu Chun, blind drunk, spewed insults instead. We grant he has not shown heroic filial piety, but his lapse is the common human sort and merits censure, not ruin." Minister Shi Bao countered: "Yu Chun chose office over parents and scorned good counsel—both unfilial and disloyal. Strip his titles and lands." Western bureau clerk Liu Bin argued that when ordering public morals, human relations must come first; The core of that teaching is loyalty and filial piety. Loyalty keeps the lord in mind; filial piety keeps one's parents in mind. If filial piety meant devoting oneself wholly to nursing parents at home, no worthy ruler could keep a man in office; If loyalty required ignoring one's kin entirely, no parent could count on having a son. So the subject must set duty above private affection; and the son must let natural feeling temper what duty demands. At court he obeys his lord; at home he follows his father's wishes. Only then are both lord and father served, and loyalty and filial piety kept in their proper places. Yu Chun's elder brother Yu Jun had already petitioned to go home because their father was aged; had Jun been allowed to leave office, Yu Chun would inevitably have had to do the same; Jun was refused, so Chun had no reasonable grounds on which he could have been allowed to resign either. Yu Chun petitioned on his own account as well, and was likewise ignored. Recently Liaodong governor Sun He and Guanghan governor Deng Liang both had aged mothers; Liang had no brothers. Posted to distant commanderies, they pleaded hard to be allowed home—and were refused in every case. Moreover Yu Chun had lately been metropolitan governor while his father lived within the same jurisdiction, so he could regularly request leave to visit him. To punish him beyond what ritual and statute allow was, in Liu Bin's view, simply unjust. Ritual provides that when a parent reaches eighty, one son may stay home from office. Yu Chun still had two younger brothers at home, so he did not breach ritual. Statute further provides that only at ninety may a son be allowed to leave office altogether. Yu Chun's father was not yet ninety, so he did not violate the statute either. For reviling the chancellor, however, he should be further dismissed and expelled, to make the law clear. The throne's merciful forbearance in merely demoting him is enough; this humble servant has no further argument to offer on that score. Henan clerks led by Pang Zha submitted a memorial: our former governor, Marquis of Guan Nei Yu Chun, behaved improperly while drunk. The Wushen edict already removed him as metropolitan governor; because his father was gravely aged and he did not seek leave to care for him, the case was referred to the Five Offices to judge his conduct by ritual law. We respectfully cite the Three Dynasties' rule on supporting the aged: at eighty, one son may stay home from office; at ninety, the whole household may stand aside. That truly leaves no gap in filial care while keeping the subject's public duty intact. When the ancient kings framed ritual and handed down instruction, none surpassed the Zhou. In that age the Duke of Zhou remained at the Zhou court while Boyi of Lu went east to his fief—filial sons were not left wanting, and ritual was never breached. Now the high councils invoke age-seventy seasonal and age-eighty monthly rules to override the statutory limits on holding office and strip rank and fief. That would mean the Duke of Zhou made the law and then broke it himself—and Boyi of Lu, as a filial son, would be the first man punished. Shi Fen lived to a full hundred, with four sons serving as prefects in different commanderies. Even recently, several sons of Grand Preceptor Prince Xian held office beyond their princely domain. Antiquity and the present accord on this point: loyalty and filial duty can both be satisfied. I have heard that even worthy men are subject to the fault of shame and remorse. Yu Chun was ordinarily a light drinker, but this time he drank heavily and became thoroughly drunk. When he sobered and learned what had happened, he was filled with grief and remorse. He humbled himself, accepted blame, memorialized against himself in the strongest terms, and asked to be punished under the harshest statute. Yet the tribunal will not excuse the cause of his conduct and instead calls him arrogant and obstinate. That is to treat drunken words as a serious crime and to suppress the very principle that a man who has gone astray should be allowed to return to the right path. I have heard that the tie between father and son is natural and love springs from it, while the tie between ruler and minister rests on duty freely accepted—and that loyal ministers are sought among filial sons. That is why the former kings made ritual require reverence equal to that owed a father, tracing conduct from its origin to its end and treating the ruler as one treats the parent who bore one. Even with such standards, they still feared that few ministers would truly give themselves to service. The tribunal now argues that although ritual and statute set fixed limits, illness and return to care for parents should not be denied when the intent is genuine. Applied in this way, ritual would forbid honest conduct, trap men in pretense, violate the king's institutions, and open the way to grave danger. From youth Yu Chun lived plainly and austerely, cared for his parents with constant devotion, served both in the capital and in the provinces, and was upright and selfless. That is why Your Majesty has repeatedly issued edicts praising him, and why he has continued to receive promotion. In personal conduct he was respectful; in leading subordinates he was dutiful; he always put others before himself. That was his settled character. Yet on one occasion, because he was drunk, he was charged with arrogance and insolence. On that basis he was accused of disloyalty and unfiliality, and the assembled officials recommended stripping him of rank and fief. That is why I, your unworthy servant, grieve in my heart and weep blood. Under present law, when parents are over eighty their sons may be excused from appointments beyond the usual term limits, precisely so that they may have opportunity to return home. Yu Chun now serves within the metropolitan region, and in the past his repeated petitions for leave to visit his parents were regularly granted. Of Yu Chun's six brothers, three remain at home, so filial care of their parents has never lapsed. His elder brother Yu Jun, palace attendant and legitimate eldest son of the family, previously submitted his own memorial asking to resign and care for their parents, but the throne refused permission. The law applies equally to brothers, yet Yu Chun alone is falsely blamed for failing to seek leave to care for his parents. I fear that empty talk of propriety will flourish while genuine loyalty and sincerity are harmed. Ritual exists to govern the state and secure the altars of land and grain. The glory of the Taotang age rested on reverent study of the ancient canons; the excellence of King Cheng of Zhou lay in following the old statutes. Your Majesty's sacred virtue is reverent and discerning; you promote ritual and exalt instruction and consult your chief ministers to refine the canonical institutions. Yu Chun was dismissed for misconduct, yet the cause was drunkenness alone. The minister of works was censured in the name of moral instruction, yet the real cause was anger. Righteousness was built on stored-up anger, guilt was fixed on drunkenness, ritual and statute were no longer the standard of judgment, and charges were twisted into law. That is why I, your unworthy servant, dare risk death, yet am ashamed that justice cannot prevail in so enlightened an age. I humbly beg Your Majesty to look upon this with compassion and discernment.
25
' ' 祿
The emperor spoke again: "Since mid-antiquity judges have often truckled to the mighty while venting spite on the weak—which is how men like Shi Ji and Yu Dingguo won fame by doing justice. To fault Yu Chun now for lacking perfect sobriety is to demand sagehood of a man reeling at a banquet. I suspect Duke Jia was drunk himself; had he been sober he would never have raised, before a hundred guests, the charge that Yu Chun refused to quit office to nurse his father. The Great Jin follows the sages' statutes on when officials may serve or retire: anyone with an eighty-year-old parent ought to go home to care for him, not Yu Chun alone. The classic warns: take a drunkard's taunts as seriously as if he demanded you produce a black ram. That means you do not punish mere drunkenness, lest you lose all sense of proportion. Yu Chun is pardoned precisely so the realm may learn restraint the next time wine flows at court. The opinions of Prince Sima You and clerk Liu Bin were sound." Yu Chun was reappointed libationer of the National University with the added title of palace attendant-in-ordinary. At open court General of the Rear Xun Pan memorialized that Yu Chun's earlier dismissal for unfiliality disqualified him from fresh promotion. Palace attendant Zhen De rose to argue: "True filial piety means bringing glory to one's parents and supporting them on official income. The throne had already forgiven Yu Chun's slip, elevated him as an inner-court adviser, and entrusted him with the education of cadets—the very model of a subject who answered a summons without waiting for his carriage. Yet Xun Pan presumed to use private spite to overturn a settled consensus, posturing as righteous while slandering the court—he deserves demotion." Xun Pan was stripped of his post.
26
Long before, Xun Pan and Yu Chun had both been recruited by the grand general: Xun Pan arrived in glossy equipage while Yu Chun came plainly dressed, and Xun Pan nursed a grudge for the contrast. He now used the affair to smear Yu Chun. Once Xun Pan fell, Yu Chun was ashamed on his behalf and visited him again and again to cheer him up; contemporaries praised Yu Chun's breadth of mind.
27
He rose to palace attendant but stepped down to mourn his father. He was recalled as palace attendant censor-in-chief, then moved to director in the Masters of Writing. He was named governor of Wei commandery but never took up the post, receiving instead the ministership of the household. He died at sixty-four. His son was Yu Fu.
28
Yu Fu
29
= 使
Yu Fu, courtesy name Yuncang—the stray mark before his name is an edition artifact. From youth he was known for spotless conduct and rose through a doctorate. When Prince Sima You of Qi prepared to leave for his fief, the court ordered the ritual bureau to decide what honours and gifts to bestow. Yu Fu joined erudits Taishu Guang, Liu Tun, Miao Wei, Guo Yi, Qin Xiu, and Fu Zhen in a memorial of remonstrance citing the Documents on Emperor Yao: "Make his virtuous excellence illustrious, and cherish the nine branches of his kindred." When King Wu held the realm, he enfeoffed sixteen brother-states and forty states of the royal surname. Founding merit and kinship were honored with extraordinary rites, and Lu, Wei, Qi, and Jin received broad domains and the ritual vessels of investiture. This is the meaning of treating kin and outsiders alike wherever virtue lies. When Great Jin arose, it carried forward the distant example of Tang and Zhou. Royal kin and founding ministers alike received titles and domains, and the empire was at peace. With Wu and Kuaiji now pacified, the throne has ordered the Grand Marshal, Prince Sima You of Qi, to leave and govern his regional domain. He is expected to administer his princely state according to ancient precedent and thereby set a lasting institutional example. In antiquity Zhou chose men of established virtue to support the throne: the Duke of Zhou became Grand Steward, the Duke of Kang Minister of Crime, and Duke Dan Minister of Works. The states of Shao, Rui, Bi, and Mao likewise took high court offices, showing that serving as the king's arms and thighs was weighty while guarding a domain was comparatively light. Ancient precedent never sends the Three Excellencies out to govern a state. Han feudal kings outranked the chancellor and the Three Dukes in dignity and authority. Princes who stayed to assist at court might hold concurrent offices, but when they left for their domains they were not granted empty high ministerial titles merely as inflated favor. Shen Wuyu once said, "Great power must not sit on the frontier"—earlier scholars understood this to mean that favored princes and grandsons, who were chief ministers for generations, must not hold border commands. He also said, "Petty power must not be in the inner court"—earlier scholars took this to mean that the lowly obstruct the exalted, the young bully the elder, outsiders displace intimates, newcomers displace the established, and the small presume upon the great. "Not in the court" means not wielding power in the central government. He also said: "Kin should not be kept outside, detainees should not be kept inside. Qi Ji is now outside and Zheng Dan inside—Your Majesty should take warning." Shu Xiang said: "When the ruling house is about to fall, its branches wither first." The royal clan is the root of the dynasty, yet you would send it away—this is exactly what the proverb describes as sheltering oneself under a tree while letting the axe-handle grow to a full fathom. If Prince Sima You of Qi is worthy, it is unfitting to honor a uterine younger brother with the routine apanage role of Lu or Wei; If he is not worthy, it is unfitting to grant him a vast domain and proclaim a great eastern fief. By ancient ritual the Three Dukes had no fixed duties; they sat and counseled on the Way. One never hears of burdening them with regional command. Only when the Zhou house was near collapse, King Xuan restored it amid invasions from all quarters and daily emergencies, was Duke Mu of Shao sent to campaign against the Huaiyi. Hence the ode says, "Xu had not yet submitted when the king said, Turn back and return"—showing that a chief minister must not long remain abroad. Now the realm is settled and all under Heaven is one household. You will repeatedly summon the Three Excellencies to discuss the foundations of peace, yet you would send him out again two thousand li from the capital—in violation of ancient precedent.
30
Yu Fu drafted the protest and showed it to his father Yu Chun, who raised no objection. Chamberlain Zheng Mo and Libationer Cao Zhi were likewise drawn into the business. Emperor Wu, furious that the scholars answered beside the point, referred the case to the bureaus. Directors Zhu Zheng and Chu Li reported: "Yu Fu and his colleagues exceeded their brief, confused the throne, and peddled slander thinly veiled as frankness. We ask that Yu Fu and seven others be sent to the Commandant of Justice." Yu Chun appeared at the Commandant of Justice and confessed: "My son showed me his draft; I listened like a fool." The emperor forgave Yu Chun.
31
駿 駿 駿
Commandant Liu Song renewed the charge of grave lèse-majesté against Yu Fu and company, recommending public execution pending a full collegial review. The Masters of Writing asked leave to let the commandant enforce the death verdict. Xiahou Jun of the Masters of Writing told Zhu Zheng, "The court would kill men for daring to remonstrate! Those eight senior seats exist for exactly such crises—you must join me in blocking this." Zhu Zheng refused. Xiahou Jun rose in fury and said, "Then I expected too much of you!" He therefore drafted a lone rebuttal. Left director Wei Shu, right director Prince Sima Huang of Xiapi, and the rest sided with Xiahou Jun. After a week the emperor ruled: "Yu Fu and his fellow scholars ignored the law, evaded the question, and spread lies that poisoned public opinion. Yu Fu led the memorial and should bear the heaviest blame. Yet Yu Fu and his kin had all confessed in person, and imperial good faith must not be broken. Qin Xiu and Fu Zhen had already escaped once for empty rhetoric; fear taught them nothing and they deserve added punishment to expose malice. Still I cannot bring myself to kill them outright. Qin Xiu, Fu Zhen, Yu Fu, and the others were stricken from the rolls." Years later Yu Fu was recalled as palace attendant-in-ordinary. He ended his career as libationer of the National University.
32
Qin Xiu
33
Qin Xiu, courtesy name Xuanliang, came from Yunzhong in Xinxing commandery. His father Qin Lang had served Wei as general of agile cavalry on the right. From youth Qin Xiu studied diligently and was famed for blunt integrity. During the Xianning era he held a doctorate. When He Zeng died, the court asked the ritualists for a posthumous title. Qin Xiu argued:
34
The late grand tutor He Zeng, though born to privilege, first rose through conspicuous dignity and austerity. He won praise for delighting his parents at table and once impeached the minister Yin Mo—both deeds show the heart of a loyal servant. Yet his temperament was arrogant and spendthrift, heedless of proper bounds. The Classic of Poetry says: "Lofty stands that southern mountain, its crags sheer as a wall; awesome sits Minister Yin, and every eye is fixed on you." The verse praises a minister whose virtue towers so high that every step follows ritual. Zuo Qiuming said: "Frugality is the crown of virtue; extravagance is the chief of vices." When the Great Jin took the throne it honoured modesty; He Zeng basked in favour across two reigns and dazzled for generations. Past his sixtieth year he piled three dukedoms on one frame, drew income from a great princedom, doubled as tutor and guardian, and wielded the minister of education's staff of equity. Both sons flanked the throne in gold-marten ministerial rank. Set against ancient exemplars, the duty was crushing: had his entire household perished in service it would scarcely match such rank. Instead he flaunted luxury to every corner of the realm, walked outside the Way, yet clung to offices no norm would allow. By classical standards he failed both as minister and as steadfast partner warned of in the Changes. Nothing did more to stain the new dynasty's brilliance, corrupt public ethics, advertise vice to the world, and teach the young to sneer at restraint. In living memory no chief minister has wallowed in scandal, faced censorial impeachment, dragged his sons through the mire, and still won lavish pardon as He Zeng did.
35
The Duke of Zhou lamented how the Ji brothers had slipped from virtue and how the great teaching faltered, which is why posthumous names were invented—to seal a life's moral ledger. Zeng Shen followed that lesson, straightening his limbs on his deathbed and refusing an improper mat—proof that a gentleman polishes his end to the last breath. Even Qi scribes, mere retainers in a chaotic age, branded a murderous lord and kept recording despite repeated peril. How much less may officers of our dynasty, charged with preserving the rites, flinch from the mighty and shrink from speaking the full ritual truth! Guan Zhong said: "Propriety, justice, integrity, and honour are the four cables of state; let them slack and the realm collapses." Chief ministers are the realm's mirror: if they live in open excess yet escape posthumous censure, the court has no standard of justice left. Why should great lords fear the law at all? And where are those four moral cables supposed to anchor themselves? The Posthumous Canon states: "When title and deed diverge the name is Miu; when a man rides chaos to do as he pleases the name is Chou." He Zeng's life fits both clauses; he should be called Duke Miu-Chou.
36
The court rejected Qin Xiu's formula, yet everyone who heard it shivered.
37
Qin Xiu detested flatterers as mortal foes and scorned Jia Chong. When the Wu campaign began and Jia Chong was named grand commander, Qin told friends, "A clerk's wit now commands a conquest—I mean to weep the hosts onto the road." A friend warned him: "Jian Shu wept only because he foresaw Qin's defeat. Wu is ruled by a tyrant ripe for collapse; our armies will walk in unopposed. To wail now would be folly and a punishable insult." Qin Xiu relented. Sun Hao had already capitulated to Wang Jun before Jia Chong heard the news; he was still insisting Wu could not be taken and begging to recall the troops. Jia Chong's plea reached court the same day as the victory bulletin, and the whole capital concluded that a man so high in rank and so low in judgment proved Qin Xiu a prophet.
38
'' '' ''
After Jia Chong died Qin Xiu argued: "He spurned his own kin for heirs and adopted an outsider—trampling ritual and sentiment alike to wreck the natural order of the family. When the state of Zeng made a Ju prince's grandson heir, the Annals recorded it as "Ju extinguished Zeng". The sage knew full well how dear a daughter's son can be; duty still forbids treating him as a true heir. The throne's own edict said no precedent applies unless the merit, the lack of heirs, and the blood tie all match the Grand Tutor's unique case. Adopting a daughter's son is therefore barred except for founders of towering merit. May the Son of Heaven's rites be bent that far? It severs ancestral sacrifice at the root and invites catastrophe into the court. The Posthumous Canon calls a man who scrambles the norms 'Huang'; Jia Chong should be Duke Huang." The court refused.
39
Wang Jun earned the credit for conquering Wu but Wang Hun's slander nearly ruined him. The emperor declined Qin Xiu's advice yet never settled the score fairly, merely naming Wang Jun general who supports the state—an insult the realm resented on his behalf. Qin Xiu therefore wrote: "Since our dynasty began, the title general who supports the state has been a sinecure for court favourites. So Wang Jun first drew a minister's stipend without merit, then earned the sneering reward reserved for imperial pets. Everyone under heaven sees the slight—who could fail to feel cheated? Shu was the lesser foe, Wu the greater: after Shu fell both generals who took it were raised to the three highest posts. Wang Jun conquers Wu yet is demoted—how can the realm not be baffled? Even the three martial founders had to swallow indignities from Wu while it still stood. Sun Hao's hollow prestige still shook the heartland: each time he sortied, the court knew he was dying, yet every garrison trembled as if doom were near. Had someone offered to borrow the emperor's hosts, crush Wu, and seal a brotherly pact with the throne, I suspect every minister would have leapt at the bargain. Wang Jun led the armies of the west and finished Wu in weeks. Even if you poured Wu's plunder into his lap, it would still be largesse he never owned—yet you quibble over his reward?"
40
Later he joined Liu Tun and others debating Prince Sima You's fief issue, crossed the emperor's will, and was stricken from the rolls. Soon he was recalled to a doctorate. Qin Xiu was prickly and blunt, and crossed paths with many. He spent the better part of two decades as a doctoral scholar and died in harness.
41
Historiographer's appraisal
42
The historians write: Prince Xian of Qi combined royal virtue with true kinship—he was meant to steady the realm, guide policy, align every branch of government, and model the human order. Emperor Wu listened to corrupt advisers, brooded on long-term succession, and so banished him to a distant green fief to rule the eastern march. The news drew gasps near and far; court and countryside alike felt betrayed. Men like Cao Zhi took the rites to heart, kept to the Confucian path, risked themselves without self-interest, and wore the state's worries on their sleeves. So they could speak truth at the palace gate and brush the emperor's temper: though their careers bent for a season, the Way itself grew stronger. For generations the Yu family stood for unstained honour in Ru and Ying, a house from which the age drew its finest scholars. Yu Chun loathed sycophants by nature, yet wine loosened his tongue; striking the rat without smashing the vase is never simple. Theft of another's goods is theft by law; Guo Zixuan stole another's glory—what is that if not theft?
43
The verse praises: Among Wei's princely shields, Jibei's name shone bright. Yingchuan bred statesmen, and Yu Jun rose among them. The lord of Changcen chose duty; the libationer turned his back on pomp. Three cups undid Yu Moufu, and drunken brawling followed. Guo Xiang stole the credit; Qin Xiu exposed the wicked. Yu Fu offered wise remonstrance and nearly boiled in the cauldron for it.
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