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卷八十 列傳第五十 王羲之

Volume 80 Biographies 50: Wang Xizhi

Chapter 80 of 晉書 · Book of Jin
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Chapter 80
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1
Wang Xizhi
2
簿 簿 使婿 婿
Wang Xizhi, whose courtesy name was Yishao, was a nephew of Wang Dao, the Minister of Education. His grandfather Wang Zheng had served as a Gentleman of the Masters of Writing. His father Wang Kuang was the Administrator of Huainan commandery. When Emperor Yuan prepared to cross south of the Yangzi, Wang Kuang had been the first to advance the plan. As a boy Wang Xizhi was tongue-tied, and no one thought him extraordinary. At thirteen he paid a call on Zhou Yi, who sized him up and saw something uncommon in him. Ox-heart roast was then considered a great delicacy. Before the other guests had tasted it, Zhou Yi carved a portion and offered it to Wang Xizhi, and only then did the boy begin to make a name for himself. As an adult he grew fluent and forceful in debate and was admired for his uncompromising integrity. Above all he excelled at clerical script, standing unrivaled across the ages. Critics described the movement of his brush as drifting like wind-borne clouds and as swift and powerful as a dragon startled into flight. His uncles Wang Dun and Wang Dao thought the world of him. Ruan Yu of Chenliu enjoyed wide renown at the time and served as chief clerk to Wang Dun. Wang Dun once told him, "You are one of the best youths in our clan; you should prove a match for Clerk Ruan." For his part, Ruan Yu named Wang Xizhi, Wang Cheng, and Wang Yue the three outstanding younger men of the Wang family. Grand Commandant Xi Jian dispatched a disciple to ask Wang Dao for a son-in-law, and Wang Dao had the man go to the eastern wing and look over every young kinsman present. When the messenger returned he reported to Xi Jian, "The Wang youths are all impressive, but the moment they learned a matchmaker had arrived, each of them stiffened into his best behavior. Only one sat on the eastern couch with his shirt open, eating unconcernedly as though nothing had happened." Xi Jian said, "That is exactly the son-in-law I want." They asked who he was: it was Wang Xizhi, and Xi Jian gave him his daughter in marriage.
3
西 使 退 便 使 使 使
He first entered office as a Gentleman of the Palace Library. Yu Liang, the General Who Conquers the West, recruited him as an army adviser, and he rose step by step to chief clerk. On his deathbed Yu Liang memorialized the throne, commending Wang Xizhi for his integrity, high standing, and sound judgment. He was advanced to General Who Pacifies the Distance and appointed Inspector of Jiang province. Wang Xizhi had been celebrated since his early years, and the great officers at court prized his gifts; they called him repeatedly to serve as Palace Attendant and as Minister of Personnel, but he declined every appointment. He was offered the post of General Who Guards the Army and once more put it off without assuming the commission. Yin Hao, the Inspector of Yang province, had always held him in high regard and pressed him to accept. Yin wrote to Wang Xizhi: "Gossip holds that whether you serve or withdraw is itself a barometer of good or bad government—and people like me agree. Your choice to serve or stay out stands directly opposite the fortunes of the state. Surely the rise or fall of an entire era cannot hinge on your personal comfort and convenience. I hope you will move gradually and win the confidence of the people. If you refuse to take up office when the moment calls for it, how can you ever hope to see good government again? Once you open your mind, you will understand how the world truly feels." Wang Xizhi answered: "I have never aspired to high ministerial rank. When Chancellor Wang once tried to bring me into the administration, I swore I would not go—the letter he wrote me is still in my keeping, and my resolve has been clear for years. I am not only now, as you take power, deciding whether to step forward or back. Ever since my sons married and my daughters were given away, I have nursed the wish, like Shang Ziping of old, to leave public life; I have said as much to family and friends again and again, and not just yesterday. If I am ordered on a mission, I would not refuse even the road to Guanzhong, Longyou, or the Ba–Shu region. I may lack the eloquence of a seasoned negotiator, but if I simply obey the court's commission and make known its majesty and benevolence, I can still do more than the usual envoy: I would show every quarter that the throne cares for the world beyond our borders. That service would be far more useful than warming a seat as General Who Guards the Army. At the end of the Han the court sent Grand Tutor Ma Midi east of the passes on a mission of consolation. If my low rank does not disqualify me, and you have no misgivings, I should leave in early winter. I await your command with all deference."
4
Wang Xizhi did accept the post of General Who Guards the Army, then pleaded repeatedly for Xuancheng commandery. When that was denied, he was appointed General of the Right Army and internal administrator of Kuaiji. Yin Hao and Huan Wen were at odds. Wang Xizhi believed the realm could be secure only if court and frontier remained at peace, so he wrote to admonish Yin Hao, who paid no heed. When Yin Hao prepared a northern campaign, Wang Xizhi was convinced it would end in disaster and sent him a letter urging him to desist, in the frankest terms. Yin Hao went ahead anyway and was routed by Yao Xiang. When Yin plotted a second offensive, Wang Xizhi wrote to him again:
5
西
The news of the defeat of the army under the General of the West has left everyone, official and commoner alike, heartsick; the sorrow will not lift. Our modest foothold south of the Yangzi has been governed to this pass; the empire has long been disheartened, and now this rout on top of everything—think hard about what that means. The past cannot be undone. Look instead to the future: give the people something solid to live for, and you will yourself enlarge the work of restoring the dynasty. Good rule rests on moral ascendancy and a calm, generous temper; to strain after military glory when the time is wrong is a mistake. Play to your strengths and shore up the great enterprise—you know this as well as I.
6
Since the rebellions began, those who have held office at court and on the borders have shown neither foresight nor a coherent strategy. They have drained the state's foundations while each pursued private aims, and not a single success or memorable deed has come of it. Sound counsel is thrown aside, and the empire now teeters toward collapse—how can we not feel bitter grief? Those who bear this burden cannot escape accountability to the whole realm. Recriminations over the past accomplish nothing. Humble yourself, seek out able men, and work with those who see clearly; do not let honest advice be silenced again by whoever happens to hold power. The field armies are shattered and the treasury is empty; we can no longer dream of holding the Huai line. The best we can do is fall back to the Yangzi, send each commander to his old post, and treat everything beyond the river as ground we merely influence at a distance. The chief ministers must own their faults, humble themselves, and make amends to the people. Then join the worthy men at court in planning honest administration: strip away oppressive regulations, lighten taxes and labor service, and give the common people a fresh start. Only thus can you answer what the country expects of you and ease the desperate straits we are in.
7
使
You began as a commoner and now shoulder the fate of the empire; even the best intentions cannot make every deed meet everyone's praise. Entrusted with supreme command, you have brought us to this disaster; I doubt anyone else at court will step forward to share the blame with you. Repair your moral standing at once, widen your circle of able advisers, and share power with them—only then might we see whether the situation can be saved. If you still think you have not failed and reach for still more beyond your proper role, the world is vast—yet where will you find room for yourself? I know blunt advice may not be heeded and may anger those who govern, but the heart's outrage leaves me no choice but to speak my mind completely. If you insist on taking the field in person without grasping this point, and actually go through with it, neither the dull nor the clever will understand your reasoning. I urge you to deliberate again with the assembly.
8
Fresh orders from the province demand another thousand shi of grain and simultaneous levies of labor, all on military deadlines. The people are demoralized and do not know where to turn. For years the remnant population has been bled white; shackled convicts choke the highways—policy almost as harsh as the Qin, short only of mass executions by kinship. I fear a Chen Sheng–style uprising may not be far off.
9
He also wrote to the Prince of Kuaiji arguing that Yin Hao must not launch another northern campaign, and commented on the state of the realm:
10
The ancients were ashamed to serve any ruler who fell short of Yao and Shun. As subjects we all wish to exalt our sovereign and rank him with the sage-kings of old—especially when fate offers a once-in-a-millennium chance. Yet talent and strength are limited in our own day; we have no choice but to weigh priorities carefully and act accordingly. Outwardly there may be cause for hope, but when I look within, what troubles me outweighs what encourages me. The Zuo Commentary says, "Unless one is a sage, outward calm always brings inner trouble." Our borders are not secure, and domestic troubles run deep. Great founders of old sometimes acted without consulting everyone, and rulers who staked the whole kingdom on a single gamble are hardly unknown. That can work only when one man's vision truly outshines all others and a spell of hardship buys lasting peace. Can you honestly say our present circumstances fit that pattern?
11
便 西 便
Victory decided in council demands a sober reckoning of enemy and self: move only when every advantage is secured. When success is won, you must match your forces to the real situation on the ground. We cannot count on victory, yet the people who survived the last disasters have been wiped out—hardly one in ten thousand remains. Supplying an army over a thousand li has always been difficult; today convoys must run west toward Xuchang and Luoyang and north to the Yellow River as well. Even the harshness of the Qin never pushed every village to this edge of despair, yet household after household now faces ruin at once. There is no end in sight to the convoys, and levies grow heavier by the day. Our small Wu–Yue region is asked to carry nine-tenths of the empire—if we are not destroyed, what are we waiting for? Still you refuse to measure your moral authority or material strength, and you will not stop until everything is broken—this is what every subject grieves in silence, too afraid to speak plainly.
12
殿
The past cannot be undone, but the future can still be mended. I beg Your Highness to think three times more, change course, and pull Yin Hao and Xun Xian back to hold Hefei and Guangling while the troops at Xuchang, Qiao, Liang, and Pengcheng all withdraw to the Huai line. That would lay a foundation no enemy could easily overthrow; once our roots are firm and our posture secure, you may plan further—it will not be too late. This is the best policy open to us today. If you reject this course, the fall of the dynasty can be reckoned in days. The turn between survival and ruin is as quick as flipping a hand; the facts are plain before your eyes. I pray you use your own decisive judgment and settle the matter in a single stroke.
13
My rank is low and my words weighty—I know how unwelcome that can be. Yet men of old, though they stood only among common soldiers or in the marketplace, sometimes shaped the age and served the state, and thoughtful critics did not mock them. How much less may I, who sit even among the great officers, hold my tongue? Our survival hangs on action now. Hesitate past the moment, fail to decide here, and remorse will come too late.
14
殿殿 鹿 殿
Your Highness's virtue is unmatched, and as prince of the blood you aid the throne—no one is better placed to follow the straight path and bring this era to greatness. Yet you have not matched what the world expects, and those of us who enjoy your special favor lie awake sighing, sorry on your account. The dangers before the state are grave. I fear Wu Zixu's warning is not confined to antiquity, and that deer will graze in our palace yards, not only in the wilds. Set aside lofty abstractions for a time and address the crisis that hangs us head down: that is how to snatch survival from ruin and turn peril into blessing. The imperial house would rejoice, and the realm would have something to lean on.
15
Famine struck the eastern regions, and Wang Xizhi opened the government granaries to feed the people. Yet the court's taxes and labor demands remained crushing, and the Wu–Kuaiji area suffered acutely. Wang Xizhi repeatedly memorialized against the policy, and the throne often took his advice. He also wrote to Xie An, the Vice Director of the Masters of Writing:
16
The points I have raised have usually won your approval, so that local directives give the people a little breathing room and let them stay at their work in peace. Without that, this commandery would long ago have followed Lu Zhonglian into the eastern sea—meaning revolt or mass flight.
17
殿 殿
The greatest problem still unsettled is the grain transport system. I hope the court will set clear deadlines, leave execution to the responsible offices, stop sending down endless urgings, and judge officials only at year's end by their performance ratings. Any magistrate who ranks worst should be sent to the capital in a prison cart. If three districts fail their quotas, the local two-thousand-shi official must be removed—perhaps demoted and posted to some perilous frontier.
18
便便
Since I took this post I have had four or five assistants at a time, while edicts from the central ministries, the capital hydraulics office, and the touring censorates rain down—contradictory, confused, impossible to sort out. I shut my eyes, follow routine, and push papers along: weighty items go to the senior clerks, lighter ones to the five bureaus. No officer ever gets ten uninterrupted days on a task; clerks and commoners run themselves ragged, and the waste runs into the tens of thousands. You now shoulder heavy responsibility; please give these suggestions your careful attention. In normal times south of the Yangzi a single capable Inspector of Yang province was enough to keep order; with so many talented men under you, disorder persists only because regulations conflict and too many hands pull in different directions. Simplify the rules so they are easy to obey, and you can preserve what we have
19
便
Granary overseers embezzle tens of thousands of bushels of state grain. I argued that executing one ringleader would stop the rest, but opinion at court disagreed. A recent audit of the counties shows the same abuse everywhere. Yuyao alone is short nearly a hundred thousand hu because harsh exactions feed corrupt underlings and leave the treasury bare—a sorry state of affairs.
20
Since the wars began, huge numbers have died, deserted, or vanished on corvée and transport duty. The population is hollowed out, yet replacements are drafted on the old pattern; every district is exhausted and no one sees a way out. Men drafted by imperial order often desert the moment they set out; local clerks then flee together with the runaways, and whole districts are stripped bare. Standing rules then hold the man's family and his five-household mutual-responsibility group liable for hunting him down. When those roundups fail, the same families and neighbors soon desert in turn. The people scatter and the population registers shrink day by day—this is where the rot begins. The same plague hits artisans and monastic infirmaries: workers die out, families vanish, and there is no one left to fill the quotas—yet edicts keep coming. Cases drag on ten or fifteen years; denunciations and punishments never pause while nothing useful gets done. How long can we endure this? Henceforth, commute lighter capital cases and five-year sentences into these slots: spare the condemned from execution and assign them instead to lifelong military labor; assign five-year convicts to workshops and temple clinics—and move their entire households into the capital to thicken the population. A full capital is the foundation of sound rule, and it keeps those workers from running away. If their families are not relocated, we are right back to the old desertion problem. Replacing execution with penal service and resettling whole clans may strike common folk as harsher than killing, yet it can choke off corruption. The statute looks mild, but the deterrent is severe—precisely what the times require.
21
便
Wang Xizhi cultivated his temperament with elixirs and regimen and disliked life at court; the first time he crossed the Zhe River he resolved to end his days in the south. Kuaiji boasted superb landscape, and celebrated gentlemen clustered there; Xie An had lived there too before he took office. Sun Chuo, Li Chong, Xu Xun, Zhi Dun, and their circle led the age in letters and learning; they all built homes in the eastern region and shared Wang Xizhi's tastes. He once joined kindred spirits for a banquet at the Orchid Pavilion south of Kuaiji and composed a preface to set out his feelings. It reads:
22
In the ninth year of Yonghe, the cyclical year guichou, at the start of late spring, we met at the Orchid Pavilion in Shanyin, Kuaiji, for the spring purification rite. Every eminent guest came, young and old alike. Here rise steep peaks and thick groves of bamboo; clear torrents whirl past on either hand. We channeled them into a winding stream for the floating-cup game and sat in order along its banks. Though we had no full orchestra, each cup of wine and each impromptu poem was enough to give voice to our deepest moods.
23
That day the sky shone clear and a gentle breeze blew warm. Looking up, we saw the immensity of the heavens; looking down, the richness of every living thing. The eye wandered freely and the heart opened wide—sight and sound brought pure delight. It was happiness indeed.
24
Men live out their lives in the turn of a head—some share confidences indoors, others give themselves to wandering beyond all bodily restraint, each according to his bent. Tastes differ—some restless, some still—but whenever a man meets what delights him and feels at one with the moment, he is content and forgets that age is closing in. When the old fascination fades and circumstances change, regret and longing inevitably follow. The joys we cherished moments ago are already behind us, yet we cannot keep our hearts from stirring at the thought. And whether life lasts long or short, it runs its course to the same end. The ancients said that death and life are the greatest of matters. Is that not cause for grief?
25
Whenever I read old writers on what moves them, it is as if we shared the same stamp; I always pause over their words in sorrow, yet the feeling is beyond words. I know well that to treat life and death as the same is a lie, and to equate the long-lived Peng Zu with a child dead young is sophistry. Future readers will look on our age as we look on the past—how bitter that thought is. So I list the men of today and preserve their poems: later ages will face other times and other cares, yet what moves the heart comes to the same thing. Readers who come after us may yet find something of themselves in these lines.
26
Some likened his piece to Pan Yue's preface to the Golden Valley poems and compared Wang Xizhi himself to Shi Chong; he was delighted to hear it.
27
使
He adored geese. An old widow in Kuaiji kept one with a fine voice; he tried to buy it without success, so he brought friends and rode out to see it. When she heard he was coming she cooked the goose to entertain him; he mourned the loss the whole day through. A Daoist in Shanyin kept handsome geese. Wang Xizhi went to admire them, was charmed, and pressed to buy the flock. The priest said, "Copy the Dao De Jing for me, and the whole flock is yours." Wang Xizhi happily finished the copy, caged the birds, and went home in high spirits. Such was his spontaneous, unstudied manner. Once at a disciple's house he saw a polished lacquer table and wrote across it in half regular, half cursive script. The boy's father later scraped it off by mistake, and the disciple was beside himself with remorse for days. Another time, on Mount Ji, he met an old woman selling hexagonal bamboo fans. He brushed five characters on each fan. At first she looked annoyed. He told her, "Just say they were written by the General of the Right Army, and you can ask a hundred cash apiece." She did as he said, and buyers snatched them up. When she came back another day with more fans, he only smiled and declined. The world treasured his brush for reasons like these. He used to say, "Set my calligraphy beside Zhong Yao's and I can hold my own; set it beside Zhang Zhi's cursive, and I may still walk in the same rank." In a letter he wrote: "Zhang Zhi practiced so hard by the pond that the water turned black. Devote yourself like that and you need not rank behind him." In his youth Wang Xizhi's hand did not outshine Yu Yi or Xi Yin; only in old age did it become sublime. He once replied to Yu Liang in draft cursive; Yu Yi was awestruck and wrote to him: "I once owned ten sheets of Zhang Zhi's draft cursive, but lost them in the chaos of crossing the Yangzi. I thought such masterpieces were gone forever. Then I saw your answer to my brother—it shines like a work of the gods and brings that vision back in an instant."
28
便 使 退
General-in-Chief Who Inspires Awe Wang Shu had enjoyed some fame and was ranked with Wang Xizhi, but Xizhi despised him, and the two never got along. Wang Shu had governed Kuaiji and, mourning his mother, stayed within the commandery when Wang Xizhi succeeded him. Xizhi paid a single condolence call and never returned. Whenever Wang Shu heard a horn—thinking Xizhi might be coming—he swept his courtyard and waited. Years passed, and Wang Xizhi never came; Wang Shu nursed a deep grudge. When Wang Shu was appointed Inspector of Yang province, he toured the Kuaiji border on his way to take up the post but did not call on Xizhi; he paid one farewell visit only as he was leaving. Earlier Wang Xizhi had told friends, "Huai Zu might rise to Minister of the Masters of Writing; in his old age he could make Vice Director. As for Kuaiji again—that was beyond his reach." When Wang Shu won a lofty post, Wang Xizhi was humiliated at ranking beneath him and sent a messenger to court asking that Kuaiji be split off as a separate Yue province. The envoy bungled the plea and became a laughingstock among the eminent men of the day. Ashamed, he told his sons, "I am no less able than Huai Zu, yet our fortunes could not be more different—can it be because none of you measures up to his son Tan?" Later, as inspector, Wang Shu audited Kuaiji's legal and administrative records; the clerks were worn out answering his queries. Wang Xizhi was mortified. He pleaded illness, resigned his post, and swore before his parents' graves: "On the ninth day of the third month of the eleventh year of Yonghe, xinhai day, your son Xizhi reverently addresses the spirits of both my parents. Heaven denied me parents early; I never received the lessons a son should have at his father's knee. My mother and elder brother reared me until I amounted to something; when the state lacked men, I received undeserved honor. In office I showed neither loyalty nor filial devotion; in retirement I failed the duty to yield to better men. I ponder Laozi's and Zhou Ren's warnings and fear my end may come any day, bringing ruin on the lineage—not on my person alone. I sigh awake and asleep as though I were tumbling into a chasm. Today I fix the limit of what contentment requires. On this auspicious day I spread the ritual feast, bow my forehead to the ground, and in good faith declare my vow before you. If from this day I break my word and grasp for rank, I shall be a son who no longer honors his parents. Such a false son heaven and earth disown; the moral order cannot abide him. May this oath shine clear as the noon sun!"
29
After leaving office he roamed every scenic corner of the east with local friends, hunting and fishing for pleasure. With the Daoist Xu Mai he practiced dietetics and gathered herbs, traveling a thousand li without hesitation through the eastern commanderies and famous peaks, even putting out onto the sea, and sighed, "I shall end my days in bliss." Xie An once said to him, "Since middle age I am too easily moved; every parting from family or friends leaves me ill for days." Wang Xizhi replied, "At the sunset of life it comes of itself. Lately I rely on music to ease my mood, yet I dread my children noticing—it would spoil the pleasure." The court, respecting the sternness of his tomb-side vow, never called him back.
30
宿
Liu Dan was governor of Danyang. Xu Xun once stayed the night: fresh curtains, rich food. Xu said, "If one could always live this safely, it would beat hiding on the Eastern Mountain." Liu replied, "If good and ill fortune were truly in our hands, I could not count on even this." Wang Xizhi, who was present, said, "Had hermits like Chao Fu and Xu You met ministers like Ji and Qi, they would not speak so." Both men colored with embarrassment.
31
While Wang Xizhi lived at leisure, he wrote to Xie Wan, the Gentleman of the Ministry of Personnel:
32
宿
Men who quit the world in old times let their hair run wild or feigned madness, smeared themselves with filth—how hard their path was. I sit at home and gain ease, fulfilling a lifelong wish—what luck; it feels like a gift from heaven. To spurn heaven's favor would be unwise.
33
退 仿
Since my tour east I have tended mulberries and fruit; they flourish now. I lead my sons and carry little grandchildren through the orchards; if we find something sweet, we share it on the spot and take our joy from the moment. I am no towering moral example, yet I hope to teach the children honesty, generosity, and modesty. They may think me fussy, but I want them to learn to count the horses when they mount a carriage—something of the Wan-shi family's scrupulous style. What do you think of that?
34
滿
Next I shall tour the coast and hills eastward with Anshi, inspect the fields with him, and nurse my health in quiet. Whenever we have more than we need for food and clothing, I want feasts with family and friends. We may not trade lofty verses, but we can drain our cups and talk of village life—that is enough to make us slap our knees with delight. Could words exhaust such contentment? I model myself on Lu Jia, Ban Si, and Yang Wangsun; I long to catch something of their spirit. An old man's wishes go no further.
35
When Xie Wan later became commander in Yuzhou, Wang Xizhi wrote again to caution him: "A man of your proud, fastidious temper must find it bitter to bend among common colleagues. Yet true breadth of mind means knowing when to step forward and when to hold back—that is what makes a man far-sighted. I urge you to meet your subordinates on their own level; that would be best. To eat only one dish at a meal and use no double mat for sitting—what hardship is that? Yet the ancients praised it. Success and failure turn on such things. Great character is built from small habits—bear that in mind." Xie Wan ignored the advice and met defeat as predicted.
36
祿
He died at fifty-nine and was posthumously honored as Grand Master of the Golden Seal and Purple Ribbon. His sons, obeying his earlier wishes, firmly declined the enfeoffment.
37
His son: Wang Ningzhi
38
He had seven sons, five of whom became well known. Wang Xuanzhi died young. Next came Wang Ningzhi, also adept at cursive and clerical script, who served as Inspector of Jiang province, General of the Left, and internal administrator of Kuaiji. For generations the Wang family had followed the Zhangs' Way of the Five Pecks of Rice, and Ningzhi was the most fervent believer yet. When Sun En besieged Kuaiji, his staff urged him to prepare a defense. Ningzhi refused. He shut himself in the oratory to pray, then told his officers, "I have petitioned the Great Dao; spirit troops will aid us, and the rebels will destroy themselves." He made no military preparations and was killed by Sun En.
39
His son: Wang Huizhi
40
西
Wang Huizhi, courtesy name Ziyou He was proud and unbent by nature. As army adviser to Grand Marshal Huan Wen he went about unkempt, sash dangling, and ignored administrative duty. He later served as cavalry adviser to Huan Chong, the Cavalry-in-Attendant. Huan Chong asked, "Which section are you attached to?" He answered, "Something like the Horse Bureau, I suppose." How many mounts are under your charge?" I know nothing of horses—how should I know the count?" How many of the horses have died lately?" We do not yet understand life—how could we speak of death?" Once, riding with Huan Chong in a cloudburst, he climbed from his horse into the carriage and said, "You cannot hog the whole vehicle to yourself!" Huan Chong once told him, "You have been on staff a long time; it is time I found you real work." Huizhi made no answer. He gazed into the distance, propped his cheek on his memorandum tablet, and said only, "The Western Hills have been wonderfully crisp all morning."
41
便輿 便 便 便宿
A gentleman in Wu owned a superb bamboo grove. Huizhi rode straight there in an open chair, sat beneath the bamboos, and for a long while chanted and whistled. The host swept a place and asked him in; Huizhi ignored him. As he was leaving, the host slammed the gate; Huizhi admired him for it, praised him wholeheartedly, and went away. Lodging once in an empty house, he immediately had bamboo planted. When asked why, he only whistled, pointed at the plants, and said, "How could I spend a single day without this gentleman?" While living in Shanyin he saw snow stop one night under a clear moon until the world gleamed white. He drank alone and recited Zuo Si's 《Summoning the Recluse》, and suddenly thought of Dai Kui. Dai was in Shan county, so Huizhi took a boat by night; it took until the next morning to arrive, yet he turned back without crossing the threshold. Asked to explain, he said, "I went on a whim; when the mood was spent I came home—why did I need to see Andao?" He was dissolute and fond of pleasure. One night he and his brother Xianzhi read the 《Eulogies to High-Minded Men》. Xianzhi admired Jing Dan's purity; Huizhi said, "He cannot match Sima Xiangru's contempt for the world." Such was his proud unconventionality. His contemporaries honored his gifts but were revolted by his behavior.
42
調
He later served as a Palace Attendant, then quit and went east. He and Xianzhi both lay near death when a occultist said, "When a man's span is up, if another willingly trades his years, the dying man may live." Huizhi told him, "I am my brother's inferior in every way; take whatever years I have left and give them to him." The man replied, "Substitution works only when the donor's surplus of life can fill what the dead man lacked. You and your brother have both reached your allotted end—there is nothing to exchange!" Soon Xianzhi died. Huizhi hurried to the funeral but did not cry; he went straight to the bier, sat down, and took up Xianzhi's zither. The strings would not stay in tune. He cried, "O Zijing—the man is gone, and the instrument with him!" He broke off and fainted. An old abscess on his back broke open, and a little over a month later he too died. His son was Wang Zhenzhi.
43
The son of Wang Huizhi: Wang Zhenzhi
44
Wang Zhenzhi, courtesy name Gonggan, rose to Palace Attendant and chief clerk to the Grand Marshal. When Huan Xuan became Grand Commandant, the whole court assembled. He asked Zhenzhi, "How do I compare with your late uncle?" Everyone present held his breath. Zhenzhi answered, "My uncle was the paragon of his age; you are a hero for the ages." The whole company was pleased.
45
His son: Wang Caozhi
46
Wang Caozhi, courtesy name Zizhong, served as Palace Attendant, Minister, and Administrator of Yuzhang.
47
His son: Wang Xianzhi
48
Wang Xianzhi, courtesy name Zijing Celebrated from boyhood, he was proud and free-spirited. Even at leisure all day he never let his bearing slip, and for grace he had no peer in his time. Watching his father's disciples play chupu while still a child, he remarked, "The southern player is losing ground." A disciple said, "The boy is peering at a leopard through a bamboo tube—he catches only a single spot." Xianzhi flared: "Compared with Xun Can in the past or Liu Tan among our own circle, I am ashamed." He swept his sleeves aside and walked out. Once he went with Huizhi and Caozhi to visit Xie An. The elder brothers talked of trivial matters; Xianzhi offered only polite greetings. After they left, a guest asked which brother was superior. Xie An said, "The youngest." Asked why, he said, "Good men say little; his silence told me." Once he and Huizhi were in the same room when fire broke out. Huizhi bolted without stopping for his shoes. Xianzhi stayed perfectly calm and told his servants to help him out at leisure. One night thieves entered his study while he slept and stripped the room bare. Xianzhi said calmly, "Thieves—that dark felt mat is a family heirloom; kindly leave it." The robbers fled in panic.
49
使
He excelled at cursive and clerical script and was a fine painter. At seven or eight, while practicing calligraphy, his father tried to tug the brush from behind and could not. Wang Xizhi sighed, "This boy will make a great name for himself." He once brushed characters a full square foot high on a wall. His father was deeply impressed, and hundreds came to watch. Huan Wen once asked him to write on a fan. The brush slipped, so he turned the blot into a dappled black cow—brilliantly done.
50
簿 輿 便
He began as a provincial chief clerk and Gentleman of the Palace Library, became an aide, and by imperial selection married the Princess of Xin'an. Passing through Wu commandery, he heard that Gu Piqiang owned a celebrated garden. They were strangers, yet Xianzhi rode a plain sedan chair straight through the gate. Gu was entertaining guests. Xianzhi toured the grounds as if no one else were there. Gu exploded: "To insult your host breaks every rule of courtesy. To throw your rank at a scholar is not the Way. A man who fails on both counts is beneath contempt." He had him thrown out. Xianzhi remained loftily unconcerned.
51
殿使殿使 使
Xie An admired him deeply and appointed him chief clerk. When Xie An was promoted to General Who Guards the Army, Xianzhi again served as his chief clerk. During the Taiyuan era the new Hall of the Supreme Ultimate was raised. Xie An wanted Xianzhi to write the hall plaque—a treasure for all time—but hesitated to ask outright. He began obliquely: "Under Wei, the Lingyun Hall plaque was nailed up before anyone had brushed the characters. When the board could not be removed, they had Wei Dan hoisted on a scaffold to write it. When he finished, his beard had gone white and he could barely breathe. He told his sons never to attempt such a thing again." Xianzhi saw the point and answered gravely, "Zhongjiang was a high minister of Wei—such a story cannot be true. If it were true, it would only show how shallow Wei virtue ran." Xie An dropped the matter. Xie An asked again, "How does your calligraphy compare with your father's?" He replied, "They are simply different." Xie An said, "Outsiders do not say so." He answered, "What do outsiders know of it?" Soon afterward he was named General Who Establishes Might and Administrator of Wuxing, then summoned as Palace Secretary.
52
祿
Before long Xianzhi fell ill. His family filed a Daoist petition of confession and asked him what sins he needed to acknowledge. He said, "I recall nothing else but divorcing my wife from the Xi clan." Xianzhi's first wife had been a daughter of Xi Tan. He died in office shortly afterward. When Empress Anxi was installed, her father Wang Xianzhi was posthumously honored as Palace Attendant, Specially Advanced, Grand Master of Splendid Happiness, and Grand Governor with the posthumous title "Xian." He had no sons; his nephew Wang Jingzhi became his heir and rose to Administrator of Yixing. Critics held that in cursive and clerical script Wang Xizhi had no rival south of the Yangzi or at the old capital; Xianzhi's stroke lacked his father's vigor but showed a seductive charm of its own. Huan Xuan treasured the brush of father and son; he kept a separate album of each at hand for his delight. Among those with whom Wang Xizhi first roamed the hills was Xu Mai.
53
Appendix: Xu Mai
54
西
Xu Mai, whose courtesy name was Shuxuan and who was also known as Ying, came from Jurong in Danyang commandery. Though his clan belonged to the gentry, Mai was quiet and retiring from youth and cared nothing for an official career. Before his capping year he visited Guo Pu, who cast the yarrow for him and obtained the hexagram Tai changing to Da Chu, with the top line moving. Guo Pu told him, "Supreme good fortune reaches you from on high; you should pursue the path of transcendence." At that time Bao Jing, the Administrator of Nanhai, had vanished into reclusion and was unknown to the world. Mai sought him out and drew from him the heart of the teaching. His parents were still alive, and he could not bear to leave them. He held that Mount Xuansliu in Yuhang, near Mount Mao by Yanling, was the western portal of Dongting and linked invisibly to the Five Marchmounts—the ground where Chen Anshi and Mao Jiwei had roamed. There he built a hermitage and moved between the caves on Mao Ridge, turning his back on the world to seek the immortals' abodes, coming home only at the new and full moons to greet his parents. After his parents died, he sent his wife, née Sun, back to her family and set out with fellow seekers to wander every famous peak.
55
西
He first gathered drugs on Mount Huan in Tonglu county, fed on atractylodes for three years, and tried to abstain from grain. Because the mountain lay too close to settlers for undisturbed practice, he fenced it on every side. Seekers who wished to see him were made to climb a tower and speak from there—an arrangement he found amusing. In breath meditation he would hold a single cycle through more than a thousand counts. In the second year of Yonghe he moved to the western hills of Lin'an, climbed the cliffs, fed on mushroom elixirs, and found a quiet joy; he resolved to end his days there. He took the name Xuan and the courtesy name Yuanyou. He sent his wife a letter of farewell and wrote twelve poems on the subject of transcendents. Whenever Wang Xizhi visited, the two would talk the whole day through; they were friends outside the common world. Xuan wrote to Wang Xizhi: "South from Shanyin to Lin'an lie halls of gold and chambers of jade, spirit herbs, and the company of Zuo Ci—all who attained the Way at the end of the Han are there." Wang Xizhi himself composed his biography, recording marvels too numerous to set down in full. After that no one knew his fate; adepts said he had ascended in feathered form.
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禿
The historian's judgment runs: Writing arose in high antiquity from knotted cords and bird-track glyphs—scarcely worth our notice. Later ages turned from plainness to ornament: paper unrolled, brushes dipped, each school vying to outdo the rest in skill or clumsiness. Zhang Zhi's miracle at the pond survives only in legend; and Shi Yiguan's feat with the hanging curtain has left almost no authentic trace. Only from Zhong Yao and the Wangs onward can one speak with confidence. Zhong Yao dominated his age, head and shoulders above rivals, yet whether he achieved perfect excellence remains debatable. In laying fine and bold strokes, spacing tight and open lines, he moves like mist parting and clouds curling—without a false step. Yet his manner is archaic rather than contemporary, and his characters overlong for the rule—in the round, those are blemishes. Wang Xianzhi echoes his father but brings little fresh ingenuity. The structure of his hand is gaunt as a winter tree stripped bare; his strokes are cramped like a famished bondsman in a harsh master's house. That winter tree is a dead snag without spring or flex; that bondsman is haltered, wasted, never free to move. Both faults together make a sickness in the brush! Xiao Ziyun rose later and ruled the calligraphy of the south, yet he merely forms legible script without a man's vigor: each line wriggles like spring worms; each character knots like autumn snakes; it is Wang Meng stretched ill on the page, Xu Yan the hunchback crouching under the brush; though you wear out a forest of rabbit brushes, not a fiber of strength appears; though you stack hides from every valley, not half a splinter of bone remains; to praise such work is to inflate a hollow reputation! These men are all more famous than they deserve. Survey past and present, study every seal-script master on silk, and who attains full goodness and full beauty if not Wang Yishao? See the mastery of his dots and sweeps, the perfection of his composition: mist and dew congeal in forms that seem broken yet still flow together; phoenix poised, dragon coiled—energy that looks slanted yet stands upright. One could study it without tiring, yet never trace its limit; heart envies and hand follows—only this man. The rest are small fry—not worth a word!
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