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卷一百三十五 列傳第八十五: 盧杞 白志貞 裴延齡 韋渠牟 李齊運 李實 韋執誼 王叔文 程異 皇甫抃

Volume 135 Biographies 85: Lu Qi, Bai Zhizhen, Pei Yanling, Wei Qumou, Li Qiyun, Li Shi, Wei Zhiyi, Wang Shuwen, Cheng Yi, Huang Fubian

Chapter 139 of 舊唐書 · Old Book of Tang
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Chapter 139
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1
輿 簿
Lu Zhi, whose courtesy name was Jingyu, was from Jiaxing in Suzhou. His father Lu Kan had served as magistrate of Liyang; when Zhi rose to prominence, Kan was posthumously honored as Minister of Rites. Orphaned while young, he held himself apart from the crowd and applied himself diligently to classical learning. At eighteen he earned his jinshi degree and also passed the Broad Learning and Grand Rhetoric examination, receiving appointment as magistrate of Zheng County in Hua Prefecture. After leaving office he headed east to see his mother. Passing through Shou Prefecture, he paid a visit to the prefect Zhang Yi, who was then well regarded. Zhang Yi scarcely noticed him at first, but after Zhi stayed three days and they met and spoke again, Yi was deeply impressed and proposed a friendship that ignored the gap in their ages. As Zhi was departing, Zhang Yi offered him a million cash, saying, "Let this help provide your mother's board for a day." Zhi declined the money and accepted only one bundle of fresh tea, adding, "I shall not fail to honor your gracious intent." He next distinguished himself in documentary review, was selected as chief clerk of Weinan County, and was later transferred to investigating censor. While still crown prince, Dezong had known Zhi's reputation and now summoned him as Hanlin academician, promoting him shortly afterward to Vice Director of the Ministry of Rites. Devoted by nature, Zhi now served in the emperor's immediate circle. Grateful for Dezong's trust, he sought every way to repay it, and whenever he saw a flaw in policy, large or small, he spoke of it plainly—whereupon the emperor's regard for him only deepened.
2
輿 使
In Jianzhong year 4, Zhu Ci rose in rebellion, and the emperor withdrew with the court to Fengtian. Rebellion had engulfed the empire. Business of state pressed in from every side—levies, troop movements, countless threads of decision—and within one day the court might issue several hundred edicts. Zhi drafted these documents, his thoughts flowing like a spring. They seemed to require no forethought, yet every finished text fully addressed the case and hit the moment's need; copyists could scarcely keep up with his output, and the other academicians marveled at his gift. He was promoted to Director of the Ministry of Personnel while remaining in his Hanlin post. He once urged Dezong: "Bandits now overrun the empire and the throne has been driven into exile. Your Majesty should admit fault in earnest and so stir men's hearts. King Tang of old revived his fortunes by confessing guilt; King Zhao of Chu restored his kingdom through frank counsel. If Your Majesty will truly reform without stint and address the realm in open apology, so that every edict speaks plainly, then even I—though coarse and unworthy—can help match the imperial purpose. Perhaps those who waver will change their hearts and return to loyalty." The emperor accepted this counsel. The proclamations issued at Fengtian—even hardened soldiers—moved men to tears of gratitude; most were Zhi's work.
3
輿
That winter the court considered adopting a new reign title with the coming year. Soothsayers argued that the dynasty had reached the critical cycle of 106, and that ritual and policy alike should change to answer Heaven's count. The emperor asked Zhi: "Years ago the ministers urged the epithet "Sagely, Divine, Martial, and Cultured." Now, in these troubles, many want me to add further characters to that title. What do you think?" Zhi replied: "Honorific titles are not an ancient practice. Adopted in peaceful times, they already strain humility; clung to amid disaster and mourning, they wound the polity all the more. The throne wanders in exile; the palace remains unreclaimed; the state altars tremble and great rites go unperformed; the heartland is choked with enemies and the chief rebel still holds the field. This is the hour when hearts choose sides and Heaven weighs whether to stay or depart. Your Majesty should steel yourself, rally every loyalty, humble yourself deeply, and answer Heaven's rebuke—not heed petty counsel that would swell your glorious title." The emperor said: "Your reasoning is urgent and sound, yet fate may still demand some outward change. We cannot be rigid—consider further." Zhi said: "Ancient rulers called themselves emperor or king—a single word apiece. Only tyrannical Qin joined the two words huang and di, and later dynasties followed suit. Decadent sovereigns invented names like Sagely Liu or Heavenly Prime. A ruler's stature does not rest on what he calls himself. Magnifying his title does not improve his rule; trimming his title does not mar his virtue. To shrink it is modest and wise; to enlarge it invites pride and flatters fawning—the one profit, the other loss, is obvious. In obstruction and peril such as this, fear and self-restraint are all the more needed. If omens must be obeyed, then change there must be— but better to shed the old epithets and honor Heaven's warning than to add glorious words and lose men's hearts. Heaven and men move together: when men choose humility, Heaven aids the yielding. If Your Majesty will decide from within, issue a fresh edict, confess fault, shorten his title, and show deep penance—humility and compliance in one stroke win both blessings." Dezong took his advice and changed only the reign name, to Xingyuan.
4
輿 使殿 忿
When Dezong fled the capital in disorder, the treasury was left behind. In biting cold his soldiers shivered, for beyond their uniforms they had neither cloth nor silk. After Zhu Ci's siege ended, tribute poured in from the provinces. At the Fengtian encampment these gifts were piled in the corridors under the old palace store labels "Jade Grove" and "Great Abundance". Zhi remonstrated: "The treasuries called Jade Grove and Great Abundance have no precedent in antiquity. Elders say they were created in the Kaiyuan era." Powerful ministers, greedy for influence and skilled in flattery, proposed: "Let us separate the uses of local tribute: taxes should go to the regular offices for state expenses, while gifts of tribute should belong to the Son of Heaven for his private use." Emperor Xuanzong approved. Thus were these two treasuries born, planting the seeds of dissolute desire. In the end the dynasty lost the realm and fed its enemies. The Record of Rites says, "Wealth gained unjustly will be lost unjustly." Is this not the lesson! When Your Majesty first ascended the throne, you devoted yourself to right governance, practiced frugality, and kept the greedy at a distance. Though the inner treasury's old hoards had not yet been returned to the Grand Treasury, regional gifts no longer entered the palace. A refreshing discipline prevailed, and the realm was transformed. Now rebellion has thrown the realm into disorder and the throne is in exile. In such a time of peril you should redouble vigilance and restraint. Yesterday, on mission to the army camps, I passed the traveling palace and suddenly saw under the right corridor placards bearing the names of those two treasuries. I was struck with alarm and could not understand why. Why is this so? The roads are still blocked, the armies still engaged. The wounded groan and cry without cease. Those who fought loyally have yet to receive their rewards. Tribute from the provinces is suddenly set aside in private treasuries before ten thousand watching eyes. Who can bear it? I fear the army may grow resentful, break into open slander, or spread ugly songs of discontent. Some already harbor thoughts of rebellion; others regret their loyalty. The common people are dull and cannot judge high from low. They cannot be won by displays of majesty, but they can be moved by sincerity and justice. When the imperial armies first arrived, there were no stores of any kind. Outwardly they fought the rebels; inwardly they defended the walls. Day and night without rest—for nearly fifty days. Cold and hunger assailed them together; the dead and wounded lay piled upon one another. Yet they gave their all in common effort and at last overcame the great peril. This was because Your Majesty did not pamper himself or indulge his desires—he gave up delicacies to share with the ranks and went without food to feed those who had earned it. Without harsh discipline the men did not desert you, because they felt your care. Without rich rewards they did not complain, because you had nothing to give. Now the siege is lifted and food and clothing are plentiful, yet slander rises and army morale falters. Brave men by nature love gain and prize merit. They shared your hardship but do not share your ease. How can they remain silent without complaint? This is only human nature and is not to be wondered at. The Record of Rites says, "When wealth is dispersed, the people gather." Is this not the lesson! Your Majesty is gifted and sage, and turns to good at once. You can turn stored resentment into gratitude, correct error into right conduct, destroy the remaining rebels, and win lasting fame. A great sage acts when the moment calls—surely he need not wait even a day.
5
The emperor approved and had the labels taken down.
6
使 使 使 使 便
In Xingyuan 1, Li Huaiguang's disloyalty was already evident. To provoke the troops he complained that other armies were underpaid while the Shence units were lavishly supplied, hoping to stall the advance. Li Sheng warned secretly that Huaiguang might rebel. Uneasy, the emperor dispatched Zhi to announce the throne's intent in Huaiguang's camp. On his return Zhi reported to the throne: Huai'guang commands armies loyal to the throne and holds the advantage. He need only march forward to cut Zhu Ci down as easily as breaking dry wood. Yet he does not pursue the fleeing enemy. His army grows idle. Whenever the other commanders wish to advance, Huai'guang blocks them. On these grounds his conduct is utterly inexplicable. Your Majesty has sought to protect him and indulged his wishes, yet he shows no gratitude. Unless you adopt another strategy and gradually restrain him, seeking only temporary peace through indulgence, I fear an unforeseen crisis will arise. This is a moment of grave urgency and cannot be handled with ordinary ease. Li Sheng has now asked to move his army. It happened that I was on mission to comfort the troops when Huai'guang raised the matter. I asked his view, and he said, "If Li Sheng wishes to march separately, I need no support from him at all." Fearing he might change his mind, I praised the strength of his army. Huai'guang swelled with pride and showed contempt for Li Sheng. I then asked calmly, "When I left the imperial camp yesterday, this matter had not been discussed. If I return now, the emperor may inquire. Has the matter been decided, or not?" Huai'guang had spoken rashly and could not take it back. He said, "If the emperor permits it, there is no objection." He repeated his assent several times, clearly and deliberately. Though he may wish to retract it, he can hardly find words to do so. I beg Your Majesty to send Li Sheng's memorial to the Secretariat, issue an edict approving it, and separately send Huai'guang a handwritten edict explaining the reasons for the troop movement. The handwritten edict might read in substance: "Yesterday I received Li Sheng's memorial asking to move his army east of the city to divide the rebel force. Not knowing the full implications, I meant to consult you. Lu Zhi has just returned from your camp and reports that in discussing the army's situation you agreed that Li Sheng's move would be acceptable. I have therefore ordered Li Sheng's request granted. You should give him your counsel, attack by separate routes, and together destroy the rebels." Such words would be tactful yet direct, reasonable and clear. Even if he harbors disloyalty, how could he take offense? My original mission concerned unequal rations. The question of moving troops arose by chance, and the two matters fell conveniently together. Fortunately Huai'guang answered evasively and did not refuse outright. The opportunity should be seized at once. If Heaven favors us and we miss this chance, it cannot be recovered. I beg Your Majesty to decide!
7
忿 便 使
Dezong still hoped Huaiguang would repent and crush the rebels, so he had repeatedly refused Li Sheng's requests to redeploy; only when Zhi laid out Huaiguang's treason plainly did he allow the move to East Wei Bridge. Meanwhile Li Jianhui, military governor of Fufang, and Yang Huiyuan of the Shence mobile camp were still at Xianyang. Fearing that Huai'guang would absorb their armies, Lu Zhi memorialized again: The concern is not that he lacks support, but that he is too strong. Recently Li Sheng, Li Jianhui, and Yang Huiyuan—the forces of three military governors—were attached to his camp. This will not help achieve victory; it will only provoke trouble. Why? Four armies camp apart, and their commanders are at odds. In strength they are vastly unequal, and in rank none is subordinate to another. Huai'guang looks down on Li Sheng and the others for their weaker forces and lower rank, and resents that he cannot fully command them. Li Sheng and the others suspect Huai'guang of deliberately sparing the enemy and harboring treachery, and resent his habit of riding roughshod over them. In camp they trade slander; in battle each fears the other will steal credit. Mutual distrust breeds conflict, and if they remain together, neither side can survive intact. The stronger will be destroyed only after hatred has built up; the weaker, more endangered, will fall first. Their ruin is only a matter of time. The old enemy is not yet subdued and a new threat is already rising. The anguish of this situation is truly hard to bear. The wise eliminate evil before it takes root; the next best remedy is at the first sign of trouble. When the danger is already exposed and disaster imminent, how can we refuse to act and still hope to control the chaos? Li Sheng saw what was coming and asked to move his army east. Jianhui and Huiyuan, left isolated and weak, will inevitably be swallowed up by Huai'guang. Even if they devise a better plan later, they may not escape in time. To save them, we must act now. Use Li Sheng's request as pretext to send all three armies east together. Say that Li Sheng's force is too small and might be intercepted by Zhu Ci's rebels, and that the other two armies will support him in a coordinated pincer. First send secret orders to prepare to march; when the edict reaches camp, they should move that same day. Huai'guang will dislike it, but will have no way to stop it. This is what the ancients meant by striking first: thunder before one can cover one's ears. In commanding armies and managing generals, what matters is reading the situation. Whether to unite or divide, to act quickly or slowly—each has its proper moment. Joining those who should be kept apart invites chaos; separating those who should act together diminishes their effectiveness. Moving too slowly when speed is needed loses the opportunity; acting too quickly when caution is needed ruins the plan. Seize the essential point and act at the right moment, and no plan will fail and no move will create danger. Now troops are assembled but will not cooperate, and generals are gathered but cannot unite. They are turning into mortal enemies, and disaster may strike at any moment. Keeping them together will not allow them to check one another; it will only escalate the danger. Separating them, each may strive to prove himself and perhaps achieve merit. This must be done; there is no room for doubt.
8
使
Dezong said, "Your foresight is excellent. Yet Li Sheng has already marched, and Huaiguang's mood is raw. Sending Jianwei and Huiyuan east as well would hand him a grievance. Wait a fortnight." Within ten days Huaiguang seized both armies. Li Jianwei fled alone on horseback; Yang Huiyuan was captured en route and executed. When word reached the court, panic spread. The next day the emperor withdrew to Shannan. Zhi's grasp of military circumstance was as sure as this throughout.
9
使 使使 忿 輿 便 使
In the second month he followed the court to Liangzhou, was made Remonstrating Grand Master, and kept his Hanlin post. Earlier, Li Chuilin, a Fengxiang staff officer, had exploited the Jing army's chaos to murder governor Zhang Yi and submit to Zhu Ci. After Fengtian was relieved, Chuilin sent tribute. The court, hard pressed, confirmed him as Fengxiang's military governor. Dezong hated his betrayal, and once the court reached Hanzhong he planned to replace him with Hun Zhen. Zhi objected: "Chuilin deserves death, but the throne is still in exile and the chief rebel remains. Every loyal army sits in the vicinity, and messages must fly without delay. The Shangzhou route is long and round; the Luo Valley lies in enemy hands. Only Baoxie still carries the emperor's word—block that pass and north and south are severed. Every commandery wavers between the two rebels, hearts pulling this way and that. They rally to whichever side seems victorious; not a step dare go wrong. Should Chuilin turn vindictive and bar the southern gate while the great foe presses east, our lifeline is cut and our strength split—how crippling that would be!" The emperor understood and treated Chuilin's envoys with kindness and a reassuring edict.
10
At Liangzhou he meant to title everyone north of the valley pass "Ministers Who Quelled Calamity at Fengtian" and everyone south of it "Meritorious Original Followers," granting the honors alike without distinguishing court from camp. Zhi wrote: "Breaking rebels and bearing hardship belong to soldiers. Palace attendants and civil officers merely rode along—yet they would share the soldiers' title of merit. The army would rage." The plan was dropped.
11
使 忿 使 殿 使
After Li Sheng retook Chang'an, he had the Hanlin record palace women lost in the flight and draft an edict for Hun Zhen to find them around Fengtian and send any found to the court with provisions. Lu Zhi did not draft the edict immediately. Instead he submitted a memorial arguing: The people wept with joy, set aside old grievances, and united in gratitude to restore peace together. You halted collapse at the brink, gathered the fragments from the flood, destroyed the rebels, and recovered the capital without losing the dynasty's heritage. This was because Your Majesty's sincerity moved Heaven and Earth and your repentance touched gods and men, so that all spirits brought peace and the people returned to allegiance. Without this, when in all history has an emperor who abandoned his palace, lost his ancestral shrine, faced successive rebellions while rallying relief armies, and fled twice in disgrace restored the empire in less than half a year? Now that the rebel leader has just been crushed and the imperial carriage is about to return, from the capital outskirts to the farthest corners of the realm, exhausted laborers and battle-wounded soldiers alike endure their pain, straining to hear your benevolent words and hoping for your grace. Your Majesty should respond to Heaven's mercy in turning aside disaster, honor the blessing left by your ancestors, remember the wounds of your soldiers, and pity the suffering of the people. Take the rebels as a warning, regard your position as perilous, make good governance your concern, and return to the palace your urgent task. You must keep stripping away excess, for luxury spreads easily. The road ahead is hard, and vigilance is hard to sustain. Many begin well. Few finish well. If you do not plan from the beginning, what can you hope for at the end? To make palace women the priority belongs to the least worthy concerns of the inner court. The Son of Heaven has a full palace. Such women are hardly scarce. You should fear causing too much harm, not worry about finding attendants! The chief villain has been eliminated only days ago. Messengers of congratulation fill the roads like threads on a loom. Why diminish your stature as ruler by seeking out women first and ordering them rushed to your camp with provisions? Ten thousand eyes are watching and ten thousand tongues are speaking. This will not meet the people's joy and hope for renewal. Affairs have their order of priority. Weighty matters come first; lesser ones afterward. When King Wu conquered the Shang, some things he did before he even left his chariot and others only after he dismounted—because he never lost the proper sense of priority. Since the imperial progress fled into exile, the people have been without refuge, the ancestral temple has been desecrated, and sacrifices have ceased for seasons. Nothing is more urgent than this. You should promptly send high ministers posthaste to recover the spirit tablets of the ancestors, restore the suburban altars, perform the sacrificial rites, and offer thanks to Heaven. Then mourn the dead, reward the meritorious, restore order among the people, and show kindness to the elderly. Reassure those who wavered and pardon those who were forced to follow the rebels. Give voice to silenced grievances and honor the loyal and upright. Restore officials who lost their posts and help those whose livelihoods were destroyed. All of these should come first, not last. As for fine dress and ornaments, palace repairs, diversions for amusement, and choosing personal attendants—these must wait and cannot come first. The displaced palace women have been gone for months. In the chaos they have surely been taken by soldiers. If any are sensible, they will come forward on their own without being sought. If any are foolish, searching for them will only cause trouble. Many have suffered losses far worse in the rebellion. Once a search is announced, fear will spread widely. Rebel remnants are still numerous and public feeling is not yet unified. Even with gentle handling they remain unsettled. If you frighten them further, what calamity might not follow? The ancients who hid a dropped cap-string and watered a stolen horse did not forget personal attachment. They understood what conduct befits a ruler. The wise do not let small matters obstruct great ones. The world has no shortage of humble women. Why must you focus on these alone? Your servant dare not draft the edict for Hun Jian as ordered.
12
使
The emperor set the edict aside and sent envoys only.
13
When Dezong returned to Chang'an, Zhi became Drafting Attendant of the Secretariat while retaining his Hanlin post. Zhi owed his inner-court post to Zhang Yi's patronage; when Qi drove Yi out, Zhi lived in fear; only after Qi's fall did he dare speak freely in memorials. Dezong admired fine writing and favored him all the more. After Fengtian was saved, Dezong wept at having left the ancestral shrines, saying, "The bandits are my own doing." Zhi wept in answer: "The ministers brought today's disaster upon Your Majesty." He meant Lu Qi, Zhao Zan, and their like. Wishing to shield Qi, the emperor said, "My virtue is thin and invited this chaos—but fate had already decreed it; men could not avert it." Zhi again denounced Qi at length. Dezong assented in appearance but took offense. The brothers Wu Tongwei served in the Hanlin and shared the emperor's favor, though their literary gifts fell short of Zhi's; yet they courted the powerful and slandered Zhi before the throne. Thus Liu Congyi and Jiang Gongfu rose from obscurity straight to the highest offices; while Zhi, squeezed by factions and envied by peers, and further estranging the emperor with blunt counsel, long went without the premiership. In debate and reply he was lucid and principled; in memorials his pen seemed inspired; contemporaries unanimously revered him.
14
Early in Zhenyuan, Li Baozhen came to court and said calmly: "When Your Majesty was at Fengtian and Shannan, the amnesty reaching Shandong moved every soldier to tears at its reading. I saw men's hearts then and knew the rebels could not endure."
15
使 西 使
Zhi's mother Lady Wei was still in the lower Yangtze; the emperor sent eunuchs to bring her to the capital, to the envy of the court. Soon after he began mourning for her, went east to Luoyang, and lived at Fengle Temple on Mount Song. He accepted no condolence gifts from the provinces nor any private offerings. Only Wei Gao of Xichuan, an old friend from commoner days, might send gifts—and then only after Zhi reported them and was told to accept. His father had been buried first in Suzhou; he now wished to reinter him beside his mother. The emperor sent eunuchs to escort the coffin to Luoyang—such was the honor shown him. After his mourning period he served as acting Vice Minister of War and retained his Hanlin post. When he came to offer thanks, Zhi fell prostrate and wept; the emperor softened his face and comforted him. Favor ran high and the court expected him for the premiership, but Dou Can had long envied him; Zhi in turn denounced Can's corruption, and the two were estranged.
16
In year 7 he left the Hanlin, was confirmed as Vice Minister of War, and supervised the metropolitan examinations. Cui Yuanhan and Liang Su then led the literary world; Zhi aligned himself closely with Liang Su. Su and Yuanhan advanced men of real ability. Public opinion grumbled at one year's thin harvest—only fourteen or fifteen passed—but within a few years more than ten of them sat in the Censorate and the inner secretariat.
17
輿 便 使 使 使 輿 退 使 使
In the fourth month of year 8, when Dou Can fell, Zhi was appointed Vice Director of the Secretariat and Associate Chief Minister. Long shut out by hostile factions, he at last reached office in adversity, resolved to repay the throne's trust, serve the state with all his heart, and shoulder the empire's business as his own. Early in Dezong's reign Yang Yan and Lu Qi held power, built factions, and drove out the worthy until the empire boiled over and the court fled. Learning from that disaster, after Zhenyuan he still named chief ministers—but even petty appointments were questioned again and again before an order went out. Once in power Zhi proposed that bureau chiefs recommend their own subordinates under guarantee: if a nominee failed in office, the recommender would share the blame. The emperor agreed, then soon announced: "Critics say bureau recommendations favor kin and cronies and trade in bribes, so true talent is lost. This method will not do. Hereafter choose your own men—do not rely on bureau referrals." Lu Zhi submitted a reasoned memorial, saying: Your servant is truly dull and unworthy, fit for nothing, yet undeservedly raised to the chancellorship to serve at risk of fault. Though I fear I hold a post beyond my desert, and though I lack the discernment to know men well, I know myself to be mediocre and can scarcely hope to repay Your Majesty's grace. I know only that the path to talent must be widened so that the worthy may each be summoned forth together. Open the gate of perfect fairness so that every office may make itself known. Having received Your Majesty's approval, the policy ought at once to be proclaimed and put into effect. The recent examination passers numbered only a dozen or so. Some were not former clerks of the central boards and departments but staff of commissioner offices, repeatedly recommended and long experienced in office. In seniority and reputation they were fit for their ranks. In conduct and ability none had yet been found deficient. Yet at once the mouths of rumor stir, troubling Your Majesty's ear. How difficult it is to put sound policy into practice is plain enough! Your Majesty earnestly seeks good government and attends to public feeling, and for that reason you hold that recommendation is unsuitable and again leave selection to the chief ministers. In honoring your ministers and heeding public opinion, this shows the greatness of your sage virtue. Yet in entrusting responsibility, testing speech against fact, and keeping out evil while holding to sincerity, I fear something is still lacking. Your Majesty accepted my proposal and put it into effect, then at once halted it on hearing reckless criticism. You hold me to no account for the plan's failure, yet you do not test the reckless critics' claims. Thus those whose counsel fails may excuse their fault, and those who speak crookedly may slander at will. If this pattern continues and spreads by analogy, there will be no settled policy and no speech that can be trusted as true. Without settled plans good government cannot be achieved; without truthful speech petty men get their way. The state's afflictions commonly spring from this. Formerly Duke Huan of Qi asked Guan Zhong what harmed hegemony. He answered: "To gain worthy men yet fail to employ them harms hegemony; To employ them yet fail to see the appointment through harms hegemony; To plan with worthy men yet debate the plan with petty men harms hegemony." Petty men need not all harbor treacherous intent in order to ruin state and family. Their minds are crooked and their outlook cramped. They treat obstruction as distinction, eccentricity as independence, near gain as wisdom and far design as folly, small shows of trustworthiness as virtue and the great Way as expendable—and all the more so when their words and deeds cannot be trusted and they indulge their private malice! Chief ministers, by custom, number only a few. What any man can know is necessarily limited; they cannot know every scholar or review every talent in the realm. If the chief ministers must appoint every official themselves, they can only do so by making round after round of private inquiry—turning public recommendation into private patronage and open selection into back-room nomination. If the critics are right that recommendations are mostly made through personal ties, then even when names are sent to Your Majesty private favor is not eliminated; when names are sent to the chief ministers, how can fraud be avoided! The loss of capable men will be even worse. That is why past appointments were rarely free of private complaint. Even when chief ministers differed in judgment and some acted from personal inclination, they still relied on private inquiries among their intimates—and were in turn betrayed by them. This evil is not remote; Your Majesty knows it well. Now, yielding again to loose talk, you would leave appointment entirely to the chief ministers. They cannot know everyone themselves and, as before, must ask others. If they ask kin and friends, they repeat the old mistake and change nothing; if they ask colleagues at court, they solicit private recommendations—which is no better than open recommendation. Between the two courses, may Your Majesty weigh the benefit and harm. Better, I fear, to entrust department chiefs to choose their subordinates carefully. Fewer men would be chosen, but the search would be sharper. Success would bring them credit for discernment; failure would bring blame for error. Human nature being what it is, every man protects his own reputation—how much more the heads of the central boards and departments, all chosen from the finest of the court. Who among them would risk his name by recommending unworthy men for private reasons! By Board and Department chiefs I mean the Grandees, Ministers, Left and Right Vice Directors, Vice Ministers, Censor-in-Chief, and Vice Censor-in-Chief. Many of the chief ministers Your Majesty has lately chosen came from among them. Today's chief ministers were yesterday's board and department heads; and today's board and department heads are tomorrow's chief ministers. Only the titles differ for a time; their character and capacity are not suddenly transformed. How can the same men who, as department heads, could not be trusted to recommend one or two subordinates suddenly, as chief ministers, be expected to choose hundreds and thousands of officials? Public opinion is baffled indeed. In seeking talent breadth matters; in judging performance precision matters. Breadth lies in each man recommending those he knows—the department chiefs' selections serve this purpose; precision lies in matching names to reality and holding men accountable—the chief ministers' review serves this purpose. When Empress Wu Zetian came to the throne she sought to win hearts and made promotion her chief task. She opened wide the gate of appointment, advanced men without hesitation, and searched tirelessly. Not only could officials recommend others; they might even recommend themselves. Every recommendation was acted on and every nominee promptly tested. By the standards of selecting scholars, was this not dangerously easy! Yet because examination was strict and promotion and dismissal swift, the unworthy were quickly removed and the capable rapidly advanced. The age was praised for knowing men, and later reigns benefited from the abundance of talent. This was nearly the perfect balance of breadth in seeking talent and precision in judging performance. Your Majesty, born to the throne and intent on bringing order, loves worthy men even more than the sages of old—yet the harvest of talent has not matched earlier times. This is because judgment rests solely with Your Majesty, open recommendation is difficult, the gate of appointment remains open, and rigorous testing is rarely applied. The result is that senior men grow ever more compromised, successors fail to follow them, every decree provokes a chorus of slander, and every appointment leaves fresh scars. This is the harm of selecting talent too narrowly and keeping policy unsettled. Empress Wu's method erred on the side of ease, yet she obtained men; Your Majesty's rule errs on the side of strictness, and scholars are lost. Your Majesty rightly treats the choice of chief ministers differently from lesser appointments; and rightly applies stricter scrutiny to department heads than to low ranks. Yet when chief ministers offer policy and department heads recommend talent, Your Majesty hears only reckless criticism and does not examine the original proposal. This is to treat grave counsel lightly and petty rumor seriously—not to test what is slandered for truth or falsehood, nor to judge nominees by their actual merits and faults. When men talk freely, nothing is spared. People will no longer know where to turn—not in selection alone, but in every affair of state!
18
Though the emperor praised his reasoning, the recommendation edict was withdrawn.
19
調 宿 調
Under former usage the Ministry of Personnel convened candidates annually. After Qianyuan, with armies camped in the field, famine years led to holding the selection only once every three years. Candidates then backed up in vast numbers; records failed to match; clerks grew corrupt; appointments went awry; some men waited ten years without a posting. Zhi had the ministry divide civil posts into three tiers, tally vacancies, and restore annual selection. Seven or eight tenths of the selection office's abuses vanished, and the empire applauded.
20
西 便 祿 使西滿 使 便 耀 使 退 便 退 使 便 使 退 使 退退 使 退退 西西使 西 使 使 忿 使 退 使使 使 退 使 西 便
Serving with Jia Dan, Lu Mai, and Zhao Jing, Zhi joined in governing; when ministries submitted business for review, each minister deferred to the next and none would say yea or nay. By custom the chief minister on duty held the brush and decided cases, rotating every ten days; Zhi asked to restore that practice. Since Hexi and Longyou fell to Tibet, the northwest relied on "autumn defense"—troops rotated from the Huai and the Yellow River south, worn out by endless garrison tours. Lu Zhi held that the armies of the central plains were unused to frontier warfare and suffered many defeats against barbarians and rebels; that there were too many frontier commanders and no unified command; and that in crisis the forces could not respond effectively. He therefore submitted a memorial on the matter, saying: For frontier defense is a weighty affair of state; and ordering the armies and filling the granaries is the great foundation of defense. Without well-ordered troops there is no army fit for use; without sufficient grain no land can be held. Ordering troops depends on proper disposition; filling granaries depends on sound collection and distribution. Your Majesty has graciously heeded my counsel and made grain accumulation the first task. Without adding to the people's taxes or wasting public funds, frontier stores now exceed a million. The commands' grain purchases are nearly complete, stored in garrison cities against emergency. Even if bandits or barbarians strike, there need be no fear of shortage. If this rule is kept as a permanent system, surplus funds redirected to support frontier farming, then in two more years there could be three years' grain for a hundred thousand men. The foundation of adequate supply is roughly in place; the art of ordering troops is not yet perfected. I venture to offer further plans for Your Majesty's consideration. Respectfully, the threat posed by the Rong and Di is as old as history itself. The methods for controlling and defending against them, and the debates over what succeeded and what failed, are all fully recorded in the chronicles—and can be examined at length. Those who prize the approach of bringing the frontier peoples into ritual order declare that "only virtue can transform the remote borderlands"—yet they never grasp that unless authority is first established, virtue alone cannot make them submit. Those who delight in martial power insist that "only force can tame the violent and intractable"—yet they never see that without moral cultivation, military might is not something one can trust. Those devoted to alliance through marriage say that "binding ties can preserve neighborly goodwill"—yet they never see that the moment we forge such bonds, our counterparts may break them again. Those who praise the Great Wall claim that "fortifying strategic passes can secure the realm and ward off enemy raids"—yet they never see that when one's strength is inadequate and one's armies insufficient, no fortification can be held. Those who favor limited border campaigns argue that "driving the enemy back and blocking incursions can end pillaging and lighten the burden of corvée and levies"—yet they never see that when troops are dull and defenses incomplete, blocking cannot win and driving cannot dislodge the foe. The main points debated in discussions of border policy are largely covered by these positions. Though advocates mock one another, each approach is one-sided and flawed in its own way. Heed any single school of thought alone, and its logic seems persuasive enough; but examine what successive dynasties actually put into practice, and the outcomes vary from success to failure. This is what happens when one clings to fixed principles to meet ever-changing circumstances, and pursues one's own preconceptions while failing to read the times. The Central Realm waxes and wanes; the frontier peoples grow strong and grow weak; circumstances offer both advantage and harm; and any given policy may bring safety or peril. Thus there is no fixed formula, and no strategy that always wins. Yu of Xia brought the Rong into order, and sage rule flourished; Lord Danfu fled the Di, and a royal dynasty was born; the Zhou fortified Shuofang, yet the Xianyun raided all the more; Qin built fortifications at Lintao, yet the dynasty itself was destroyed; Emperor Wu of Han campaigned against the Xiongnu and left posterity with regret; Emperor Taizong campaigned against the Turks and brought peace; Emperors Wen and Jing negotiated marriage alliances but could not end the troubles of their day; Emperors Xuan and Yuan pursued a policy of conciliation and were able to secure peace for generation after generation. For the rise and fall of the Central Realm follows one set of circumstances, the strength and weakness of the frontier peoples another; the benefits and harms of any given situation another still; and the safety or peril of any given policy depends on what the moment requires. To understand the problem but misread the times is to fail; to follow the demands of the moment without abandoning what is appropriate is to succeed. Circumstances change—how can one cling to a single method! When China is strong and the frontier peoples weak, and they come kneeling as subjects, their hearts turned toward obedience—to reject them would block their turning toward civilization; to threaten them would be little better than slaughtering men who have surrendered. How can the court do anything but protect and conciliate them, draw them close, and bring them into proper order? Or again: when China is strong and the frontier peoples weak, yet they betray their oaths, break alliances in bad faith, spurn kindness and unleash violence, and neither persuasion nor reproach can move them—how can the court do anything but seize on their disorder to bring about their downfall, spare its own people, and secure the borders? When China is in decline and the frontier peoples are ascendant—plot against them and no provocation has yet arisen; try to resist and one's strength is not enough—how can the court do anything but speak humbly, lower its ceremonial demeanor, seek treaties of friendship, appease them with conciliatory overtures, and avert the disaster of open conflict? Even if such agreements cannot be fully trusted, and even if no major invasion follows, this may not be the ideal long-term policy for managing the frontier—yet there are times when circumstances leave no alternative. Should the power of the frontier peoples and the Central Realm be evenly matched—so that conciliation cannot secure peace and intimidation cannot restore calm— and one's strength is enough to defend but not enough to take the offensive—must one not fortify strategic positions, drill the army to await attack, meet incursions with limited counter-raids to check deep penetration, and when the enemy withdraws, drive them off without pursuing too far? Though this is the soundest plan for securing the borders, the balance of power may also leave no other choice. Thus Yu's bringing the Rong into order, the Zhou's repelling of invaders, and Taizong's suppression of rebellion—all seized the moment and made the best use of prevailing conditions. Lord Danfu's flight from the Di, the heqin policies of Emperors Wen and Jing, and Emperor Gaozu's lowered ceremonial demeanor—all conformed to the times without sacrificing what was appropriate. Qin Shihuang's Great Wall and Emperor Wu's endless campaigns both understood the problem but failed to read the times. Had one pursued a policy of orderly submission in a moment of overwhelming enemy strength, one would only be mocked—and they would refuse to obey! To hold the advantage for decisive action yet shrink back in fear is to miss one's chance and feed the enemy's strength! To have the power to drive the enemy back yet resort to marriage alliances is to show weakness and squander resources! To pursue aggressive campaigns when one ought to submit is to invite disaster and court destruction! Thus it is said: to understand the problem but misread the times is to fail; to follow the demands of the moment without abandoning what is appropriate is to succeed. There is no fixed formula and no strategy that always wins—the gains and losses speak for themselves. Is it not so? Yet in discerning the great principle of safety and peril, and calculating the great pattern of success and failure, there are truths that hold across a hundred generations. The crux is this: to alienate the people through indulgence of one's desires is to invite collapse; to employ the worthy and heed the consensus is to preserve the state. This has been true in every age—it is the one constant principle of nature. Since An Lushan's rebellion and the campaigns in Hexi and Longyou, the dynasty—when Emperor Suzong restored order—withdrew frontier defenses to pacify the Central Plain and borrowed foreign military power to quell internal strife. Thereupon Tibet seized the opportunity and swallowed territory without end; the Uyghurs flaunted their contributions and grew ever more overbearing. For more than forty years China had no leisure to rebuild its armies. The surviving populace was worn down, straining at sericulture and weaving to send tribute westward and pay for horses northward—yet still could not satisfy their endless demands or their proud ambitions. Even when troops were sent on distant campaigns and garrisons lined the frontiers, their wild charges could not be checked nor their raids stopped. Small raids plundered the common people; deep incursions shook the capital itself. When border policies were debated, most devoted themselves to what was difficult and neglected what was easy, strained at their weaknesses and overlooked their strengths. Thus what was easy and within their strength was pursued without mastering its essentials; while what was difficult and beyond their strength was attempted without ever achieving success. That calamities remain unabated is precisely for this reason. In controlling enemies and deploying armies, one must weigh the circumstances; circumstances differ in difficulty, and affairs have their proper sequence. When one's strength is great and the enemy weak, strike first at what is difficult—this is called seizing the enemy's will: temporary hardship for lasting peace; When one's strength is slight and the enemy strong, strike first at what is easy—this is called securing the foundation of the state: watch for provocation before acting. Recently, amid many troubles, with the people's exhaustion not yet healed, some wish to dispatch armies in force, penetrate deep into enemy territory, recover lost lands, and assault fortified cities—facing uncertainty of victory ahead and the peril of broken supply lines behind. If defeated, this would only embolden the barbarians and damage national prestige. To take such a course as a border policy is truly to ignore the circumstances and devote oneself to what is hardest! What Heaven bestows comes with divided tasks, not complete mastery of all; what Earth produces suits each thing in its own way, not every advantage at once. Thus the customs of the five directions each have their own strengths and weaknesses. Strengths cannot be surpassed by force of will; weaknesses cannot be wished away; to strain at one's weaknesses and contest the enemy's strengths is to court disaster; to employ one's strengths and exploit the enemy's weaknesses is to secure safety. The strong dwell by water and grass, live by hunting, keep many horses and excel at swift cavalry charges, hold life lightly and do not fear defeat or death—this is what the Rong and Di do best. What the Rong and Di do best is precisely what China does worst; yet to mass troops and chariots, contest strength in open pursuit, and decide life and death on the plain—to take this as the method of repelling raiders is truly to strain at one's weaknesses and measure oneself against the enemy's strengths! To devote oneself to what is difficult and strain at what is weak costs a hundredfold in labor and expense, and ends in failure. Even if one succeeded, the effort could not be sustained without ruin—is this not because one transgresses Heaven's allotment, violates Earth's natural suitability, and works against the demands of the times! To leave peril for safety, and end waste through economy, one need only carefully hold to what is easy and skillfully employ what one does best. Select capable generals and officials to pacify the people; refine discipline to train the troops; let displayed virtue support authority, and let competence at home soften those abroad; forbid the violence of border raids to demonstrate good faith, and suppress proposals for offensive seizure to reassure the barbarians; When they seek peace, treat them well but do not bind them in formal alliance; when they raid, prepare strictly but do not pursue revenge—this is what is easy in the present age. Value wisdom over brute force; hate killing and cherish life; hold profit lightly and people dearly; endure small losses to preserve the greater good; settle one's position before acting, and wait for the right moment before moving. Thus repair the borders, hold strategic passes, trench roads and tunnels, fortify camps, guard defenses strictly, post scouts clearly, devote to farming to fill the granaries, and drill soldiers to store up strength—do not plan without perfect readiness, and do not fight without assurance of overwhelming victory. When raiders come in small numbers, display force to block their entry; when they come in force, plot against their leaders to cut off their retreat; Hold the terrain and turn it against them; use many stratagems to confuse them. Render their courage useless and their numbers impotent; when they plunder they gain nothing; when they attack they cannot prevail; advancing they face enemies before and behind; retreating they find no rescue possible—what is called exploiting their weakness and subduing the enemy without battle. This is what China does best. What we do best is precisely what the Rong and Di do worst; what is easy for us is precisely what is hard for them. Use strength against weakness, and little effort yields great results; use the easy against the hard, and resources are not exhausted while success comes quickly. To abandon this and instead be exploited by the enemy is what is called holding one's weapons reversed and handing the hilt to the raider! Yet though all now profess to pursue this course, the borders remain unsecured and the raiders undeterred—the flaw lies in plans without fixed application and the multitude without clear direction. Those appointed are not necessarily capable; the capable are not necessarily appointed; what is heard is not necessarily true; what is true is not necessarily heard; what is trusted is not necessarily sincere; the sincere are not necessarily trusted; what is done is not necessarily right; what is right is not necessarily done. Thus policy is misdirected and accountability falls short; Treasury depleted by excessive troops, strength divided among too many generals, resentment born of inequity, opportunity lost through remote control. Your servant requests to outline for Your Majesty the faults in these six areas—may the enlightened ruler listen carefully and examine them closely: if a warrior wishes to defeat his enemy, he must first drill his troops. Yet among methods of drilling troops, what is employed also differs. Employed for emergency relief, troops are used flexibly to ease crisis; employed for temporary engagement with the enemy, they are deployed flexibly to seize opportunity. Thus affairs have their expedients, unconstrained by regular regulations; and plans have their stratagems, unconstrained by popular sentiment. Advance, retreat, life and death—all at the general's command. These are what are called offensive campaigning troops! Employed for garrison duty, affairs depend on what can endure; circumstances differ, so one follows expedient measures—unless natural conditions are satisfied there is no peace, unless human sentiment is accommodated there is no stability. Human sentiment responds to profit with effort, to habit with ease; men who protect their kin love life, and men who look to their families forget death. Such troops can be governed by reason but cannot be driven by regulation alone. These are what are called garrison defensive troops. To prepare the borders and defend against the Rong and Di is not work of a single day—it is right to select garrison troops and station them accordingly. Those skilled in selection and stationing in antiquity gauged men's natures and habits, distinguished regional suitability, observed their skills, and knew their desires and aversions. They employed men's strength without violating their nature, and aligned their customs without forcing them against their proper place. They drew out men's strengths without demanding what they could not give, and checked their faults without posting them where they did not wish to be. They organized their ranks, settled their families—and only then could men be made content where they lived, steady in purpose, bold in spirit, and bound to one another in loyalty. Treat them with kindness and they respond with gratitude, not arrogance; confront them with authority and they stand in awe without resentment. Without heavy supervision men applied themselves; with lighter restrictions the troops did not turn disloyal. Deployed abroad they were sufficient in numbers; at rest they had enough food; in defense they stood firm; in battle they fought strong. The method was nothing more than this: accommodate human nature! Today soldiers are conscripted from scattered sources, posted in rotation to the frontier marches, and sent back and forth in turn—all this passes for border defense. This is to ignore men's natures and habits, disregard regional suitability, demand what they cannot give, and force what they do not wish. The state seeks to swell head counts without examining utility, and expects men's exertions without understanding their hearts. Such an army may look the part of a royal guard, but it does nothing for real border defense. Why is this so? The remote frontier is desolate for a thousand li; cold wind splits the skin and blinding sand stings the eyes; men live among wolves and jackals and treat battle as sport; by day they plow with weapons on their backs, by night they lean on beacon towers to keep watch; each day brings fear of raid and slaughter, never a moment's rest for pleasure—the land is harsh and the labor crushing, nowhere more so than here! Unless a man is born there, raised in its ways, accustomed from childhood and settled in adulthood, never having known a gentler land to move to—rarely can he live content on the frontier or grow familiar with the enemy. East of the pass the land is rich in every commodity, and those who join the army are especially well cared for. Accustomed to warmth and full bellies, to ease and comfort—they might as well live in another world from the borderlands. Hear of the bitter hardships of the far frontier and their faces twist with anguish; hear the names of powerful barbarian tribes and fierce enemies and terror steals their breath. Yet you would have them leave their kin, abandon their homes, accept those bitter hardships, and stand against what fills them with terror—and still expect them to be useful? How far-fetched! Moreover they serve on fixed rotations under no commanding general's firm hand; rations and pay are lavished on them like spoiled children, indulgence extended like hired laborers; on advance they are not pressed toward victory, on retreat they are not held to strict discipline. When they arrive, all wear the look of men who have gained something; once posted, none has a steadfast heart. They count on their fingers the days till rotation, mouths open awaiting rations. Even the fortunate still worry that rotation will be delayed, constantly mindful that enemy raiders fill the land; If the imperial armies suffer defeat, they will seize the disorder to scatter eastward along every road—their hearts and wills being thus, what use is there in having them? In ordinary times they drain stores and resources to support this idle, redundant host; in crisis they abandon towns and forts and shake the hearts of near and far—the harm is not merely that they are useless! They will also undermine our position. There are also criminals exiled to garrison towns—the intent being to increase households and populate the border, and also to let them redeem themselves through service. They are already worthless men, and with their attachment to home they long for disorder and hope for disaster—they are worse than ordinary garrison soldiers. They merely add to the burden of defense, with no hope of achievement; though former dynasties sometimes employed this policy, it is certainly not a sound plan to follow. There are also commanders bearing banners and staffs who never go to the border themselves, but only assign detached units to guard the frontier. As a rule the supreme commander keeps the army's strongest and sharpest troops for himself and consigns the worn and weak to the garrisons. Since frontier commissioners remain in the interior and elite troops are kept only for discipline and order, those who hold key passes and guard approaches are constantly the weak and few. Each time raiders arrive the garrisons cannot hold; those who reach the ramparts barely manage to shut the gates; those in the open country are all seized. The enemy ravages at will and drives off everything they can find. By the time the regional headquarters learn of it, the enemy has already taken their plunder and returned. The foundation of securing the border lies above all in the army—to manage troops in this fashion is what I call misplaced arrangements! Rewards exist to preserve encouragement; punishments to show chastisement; encouragement to promote achievement; chastisement to awe the undisciplined. Thus rewards and punishments in governing troops are like the carpenter's line for straight and crooked, the balance for weighing heavy and light, the yoke-bar that makes the cart go, the bit and reins that make the horse obey. Governing troops without rewards and punishments mixes good and evil until the capable and incapable cannot be told apart; using them but not matching them to merit and fault favors the treacherous and arrogant while pushing aside the loyal and honest. If matters stand thus—even if one has brilliance to display, if laws and standards are without rule, then using or not using rewards and punishments, the harm is the same. Recently authority has shifted downward and control been lost at court; commanders' orders rarely prevail in the army, and the state's statutes cannot be enforced upon generals—they merely watch over one another indulgently, passing the years as they may. Wishing to reward one who has merit, one instead worries that the meritless will grow restless; wishing to punish one who is guilty, one again worries that fellow evildoers will be anxious. Crimes are hidden and tolerated rather than exposed; merit is left unrewarded through suspicion—the way of indulgence has reached this point. Thus those who forget themselves in loyal service are mocked by their peers; those who lead the ranks in the first assault earn the soldiers' resentment; those who fail the army and distress the state feel no shame or fear; those who delay relief and miss their deadlines consider themselves clever. With praise and blame absent and unenforced, slander and praise swirl in confusion—though men wish to do good, who will speak for them? Moreover the fair and loyal, upright in themselves and not seeking from others, instead suffer hardship; failures and shirkers, pursuing private ends and fawning on the masses, routinely receive preferment and honor. This is why men of principle are heartbroken and brave men lose their fighting spirit. There are also cases of encountering the enemy but failing to hold what was defended, of laying plans yet achieving no result; The generals cite insufficient supplies as their excuse, while the responsible offices reply that provisions were delivered without shortage. Since each side holds to its proof, the truth ought to be sorted out—yet the court habitually responds with evasion and never thoroughly investigates right and wrong. Those who have managed affairs swallow their words and cannot appeal; those who slander the good deceive their superiors without shame. To govern troops in this fashion is what I call deficient accountability! With deficient accountability and misplaced arrangements, generals cannot exhaust their talents and soldiers cannot give their full strength—though gathered in great numbers, none advance in battle. The enemy crosses the border and rampages at will, as if walking through unoccupied land; Each shifts blame to the next, none dares act—and when they falsely inflate the enemy's strength in reports to the throne, they say their troops are too few to resist. The court does not examine this, but only presses conscription and reinforcements—adding nothing to border defense, only multiplying the burden of supply. Registered households dwindle day by day and levies grow ever more oppressive—drawing on resources that ruin families and drain estates, together with monopoly profits on salt, wine, and taxes. Of total revenue, half goes to the border. To manage resources thus is what I call resources exhausted by the multitude of troops! Among the four barbarians, the strongest and greatest threat to China is none greater than Tibet—their entire nation of able fighters amounts only to a dozen or so large commanderies of China. In internal worries and external defenses they differ little from China; the forces they can send to raid the border are surely few in number. Moreover their weapons are not sharp, their armor not solid and complete; their understanding of military arts is confused, their skills lack agility. When they move, China fears their numbers and dares not resist; when they rest, China dreads their strength and dares not attack—what is the reason for this? Truly because China's command structure has many gates, while the barbarian chieftains' command is unified. When command is unified, hearts are not divided; when hearts are not divided, orders are not twofold; when orders are not twofold, advance and retreat can be aligned; when advance and retreat can be aligned, speed and pause obey the will; when speed and pause obey the will, opportunities are not missed; when opportunities are not missed, martial spirit naturally grows strong! Thus with few they become many, with weak they become strong; transformation expanding and contracting lies within the turn of the palm. It is like the arm commanding the fingers, the heart governing the body—if the right men are appointed, what enemy could there be! When command has many gates, hearts are not united; when hearts are not united, orders are not carried out; when orders are not carried out, advance and retreat cannot be assured; when advance and retreat cannot be assured, speed and pause fall out of alignment; when speed and pause fall out of alignment, opportunities are not seized; when opportunities are not seized, martial spirit naturally wanes! Thus courage collapses into weakness, the multitude scatters into feebleness—hesitation and dissolution show themselves before the battle line. It is like three dukes in one state, nine herdsmen for ten sheep—wishing to make them uniformly disciplined, how could it be achieved? Between the Kaiyuan and Tianbao eras, controlling the two northwestern barbarian peoples required only the three frontier commissions of Shuofang, Hexi, and Longyou—and even then there was concern that divided authority would scatter strength, so sometimes one man was made to command them jointly. Since the restoration, with no leisure for external campaigns, the Four Garrisons were provisionally attached at Anding and Longyou provisionally subordinated at Fufeng. Against the two northwestern barbarian peoples there were again only the Shuofang, Jingyuan, Longyou, and Hedong commissions; garrison soldiers from east of the pass, when they arrived, fell under their authority. Though appointments did not always find the right men, the arrangements still preserved the proper institutions. Recently the rebel Zhu Ci induced the armies of Jing and Long to defect; Huai'guang corrupted the Shuofang army—after partition and purges, little remained. Moreover Shuofang's territory was divided—those who established headquarters and bore commander's staffs numbered three in all. The remaining garrison armies number nearly forty—all commissioned by special edict, each supervised by a palace eunuch envoy; men are equals to one another, none subordinate to another. Only when frontier dispatches report emergency are orders given to coordinate troops—and with no military law descending from above, they are treated only with the courtesy due guests. This is to save the drowning at leisure and fight the fire with bows and courtesies—to hope for no peril on the brink, how difficult that surely is! Warfare relies on martial spirit—when spirit gathers it flourishes, when it scatters it dissipates; When force combines it is formidable, when divided it is weak. Today's border defenses are weak in force and dissipated in spirit—to establish armies thus is what I call strength divided among too many generals! The crux of managing the frontier lies above all in equality and balance—thus military law makes no distinction of high and low rank, military provisions no difference of more and less. This is how generals unite men's resolve and exhaust their strength. If one would draw out their resolve and encourage their skills, one should assess their talent, measure their courage, compare their toil and rest, gauge their peril and safety—clearly establishing categories for training review and merit, to serve as the system of graded food and clothing. Let the capable strive to catch up, the incapable lay aside ambition—though there be differences of more and less, there will be no cause for discontent. This is what is meant by daily review and monthly testing, rations distributed with equal fairness—like the balance scale indifferent to objects; ten thousand men none failing to rest content in their station and submit to its fairness. Now on the remote frontier, the long-garrisoned troops are all survivors of a hundred battles and wounds, enduring year-round the severest toil. Matched against their abilities they are practiced; measured against their situation they stand alone and in peril; examined for their service they are worn with labor; observed facing the enemy they are brave. Yet the clothing and grain provided reach only their own bodies, and as a rule are divided among wives and children—they constantly wear the look of cold and hunger. Yet garrison soldiers from east of the pass, rotating through by month and year, are untested in perilous fortresses, unpracticed in military readiness, timid in facing the enemy, and slack in bearing labor. Yet the clothing and grain they receive is generous by several grades, followed by gifts of tea and medicine, supplemented with vegetables and sauces. Abundance and want set side by side—the gap is vast. There are also men who were never of the imperial guard but were originally frontier troops—officers craftily using flattery petition to be nominally attached to the Shence Army from afar, never leaving their old posts, changing only an empty title—yet their rations and gifts become three times richer. This is why such comrades boil with resentment, loyal men sigh with worry, the worn-out flee into exile, and military funds run thin. When the service is no different yet sustenance is unequal—this human nature cannot accept. How much less when sycophancy wins rich rations while poor merit receives fine food and clothing—if one has not forgotten self, how could there be no anger! For them not to lead the barbarians' charge would already be praiseworthy—and to expect them to unite in heart and strength to repel the enemy, even with generals like Han Xin, Bai Qi, Sun Wu, and Wu Qi, I know it cannot be done. To sustain troops thus is what I call resentment born of inequality! Whenever one wishes to select and appoint generals, one must first examine conduct and ability, then point out the region to be entrusted and explain the duties assigned, letting them judge for themselves whether they can do it and state their own plans. Specify the armor and troops required, the aides to be relied upon, the number of soldiers and horses needed, the provisions and grain to be supplied, where to deploy the army, and when results are expected. Entrust the essentials from start to finish to their planning, then observe their stratagems and weigh name against reality. If his talent is deemed unworthy and his proposals unworkable, dismiss him at the outset; do not let doubts linger afterward. If his resolve is judged sufficient and his strategy workable, hold him to the end; do not hamstring him midway. Thus the doubtful are not employed, and those employed are not doubted; Exert effort only in selecting talent, then sit back in dignified repose to delegate authority. Once the task is entrusted and their requests fully met, then one may judge success or failure and apply rewards and punishments. The rewarded will not deem it excessive; the deserving of punishment will have no recourse. With authority fully delegated, the impulse to cut corners naturally dies away. Hence when ancient rulers dispatched generals, the ruler in person would push the chariot wheel and say: "Beyond the frontier gate, the general decides." He also bestowed the axe and halberd, signaling authority for independent judgment. Thus military protocol does not enter the court, nor court protocol the army. When the general is in the field, he may sometimes refuse the ruler's orders. Truly, opportune action cannot be decided from afar, nor commands obey two masters. No one whose authority was divided has ever been expected to defeat the enemy and succeed. Recently the border armies' movements have mostly been decided from the throne itself. In appointing military officials, easy control comes first: many subordinates to divide their strength, lighter duties to weaken their resolve. Though some good may come of this, much is also lost. Thus the principle of entrusting a sector with full responsibility is abandoned, and the resolve to die at one's post and bear blame fades. First one takes orders, then another takes orders; at odds with military conditions—take orders; contrary to the situation—take orders. If the generals appointed must be those who comply without dissent, then such a course might suffice; But if one intends to pacify the violent and settle turmoil, it cannot be done. When two borders meet and two armies face each other, opportunity brooks no pause—even plans prepared in advance may still be missed; to plan only when crisis strikes is already far too late. How much worse when a thousand li lie between and the palace depths are impenetrable—reports hard to make clear, imperial attention inconsistent. To expect that nothing be overlooked is beyond even a sage. Even if deliberation could be thorough, what of timely adaptation when there is no time! The barbarian foe charges as swiftly as a wind-gust. Memorials by post reach the throne, and a reply may come only after ten days or a month. Local defenders, finding their troops too few, dare not resist. Sector commanders, lacking an edict, refuse to march out. While they delay, the raiders are already upon them. Pleading that relief has not arrived, each closes his fort and saves himself. Horses in pasture and cattle in pens become the spoil of raids; Farmers and wood-gathering women are taken wholesale as captives. Though edicts order the various sectors to mobilize, they respond with only a hollow show of support, watching one another, none daring to intercept the enemy. Once the raiders have finished plundering and withdrawn, they report merit and proclaim victory. Defeats and losses are reported at one-hundredth of their true scale; booty seized is inflated from hundreds into thousands. The generals, fortunate that overall control rests at court, need not fear blame; Your Majesty, believing supreme authority rests with yourself, does not investigate the actual facts. To use troops thus is what I call losing opportunity through remote control! Deploying troops with misplaced arrangements, governing generals with deficient rewards and punishments, controlling expenditures until funds run short, raising armies while strength is divided, sustaining soldiers until resentment arises, using troops while opportunity is lost—these six are the crop pests of the frontier and the deep-rooted ailment of the army. If crop pests are not removed but only fed with fertilizer, if the deep ailment is not treated but only pampered with sweet delicacies, this merely nurtures the harm and hastens disaster. To hope for rich harvests and a strong, healthy people is surely impossible. I hold that the system of rotating troops from all circuits for autumn border defense should be abolished, and the existing quotas divided into three. One part should be entrusted to each circuit's military commissioner to recruit able-bodied young men willing to settle in border towns. For another part, the circuit would supply only clothing and grain, while districts and armies within the passes and in Hedong would recruit tribal and Han youth willing to join the border forces. For a third part, the circuit would again supply only clothing and grain, with extra pay to recruits to support the livelihood of the newly resettled. Further, the Office of Revenue should purchase plow oxen throughout the circuits and hire workers to make and repair implements at the various military posts. When recruits arrive, each household should receive one plow ox and a full set of farming implements for field work and household use. In their first year, provide grain for two family members and grant seed, encouraging them to plant. After one harvest, they should be able to support their own households. If there is surplus grain, the government should buy it at double the market price, vigorously encouraging border farming. This would end the troubles of rotating service and conscription, and remove the abuse of hoping for disaster as a way to escape duty. When raiders come, each man will fight on his own; when the season comes, each household will farm on its own. Thus the army must grow strong and provisions must suffice—how can this be compared with troops who come suddenly and depart just as quickly! I further hold that one capable civil and military official should be chosen as Commander of the Right of Longyou, placing all troops under the Jing, Long, Fengxiang, Changwucheng, and Shannan West circuit commands under his authority. Choose another as Commander of Shuofang, placing all troops under the Fufang, Binning, Lingxia, and related commands under his authority. Choose another as Commander of Hedong, placing all troops under the Hedong and Zhenwu commands under his authority. Each of the three commanders should establish headquarters at a strategic border prefecture. Among existing military commissions, nonessential ones should be merged according to convenience and proximity. Only the commanders-in-chief may appoint army overseers; all other such posts should be abolished. Within the three commanders' territories, for Taiyuan, Fengxiang, and other prefectures with relatively large populations, carefully select good officials as governors. Outwardly they should observe military discipline; inwardly they should encourage agriculture and sericulture, supplying army grain to strengthen the military posts. Once troop deployment is rightly ordered and commanders clearly appointed, reduce corrupt and wasteful expenditures to enrich the treasury, fix grades for clothing and grain to harmonize the ranks, broaden delegation to put talent to use, and publish standards of reward and punishment to assess achievement. Moreover, carefully hold to China's strengths and diligently practice what is feasible today, and the eight benefits can be attained and the six failures removed. If this is done and yet the barbarians are neither awed nor reconciled, and the frontier is not settled—there has never been such a case. The regional lords would follow the correct path, and the people would submit. If this is done and yet edicts do not prevail and the realm is not well governed—that too has never happened. With Your Majesty's keen insight, the people's longing for peace, a brief respite in the four quarters, the two enemy peoples just quieting down, and years of abundant harvest with grain stored everywhere—all this is Heaven aiding the state. It is a time to establish institutions and leave a lasting legacy. Time does not long remain, and favorable conditions do not often coincide. Once the moment has passed, regret comes too late. A wise ruler does not punish for words spoken or discard counsel because of the speaker. I lay out my foolishness fully and leave all to Your careful judgment.
21
Dezong warmly approved and issued a commendatory edict.
22
便 使 使
In the Secretariat Zhi repeatedly memorialized on policies that ill suited the age. Dezong could not accept every proposal, yet valued him deeply. After Dou Can was banished to Chenzhou, Liu Shining, his military governor, sent him thousands of bolts of silk. Li Xun of Hunan, Can's enemy, reported the gift; Dezong took offense. Jiang Gongfu then told the throne that Can had said, "The Emperor's wrath against me is not spent." Dezong raged, demoted Can again, and finally had him executed. Gossip held that Jiang Gongfu's testimony came from Zhi and that Zhi had helped bring about Can's death. He had long feuded with Gongyi and Yu Shao; once in power he expelled them—another mark against him in rumor.
23
Pei Yanling, Vice Minister of Revenue and fiscal commissioner, was a corrupt manipulator whom the empire hated like a foe. Favored by the emperor, he went largely unchallenged. Zhi alone stood against him, arguing repeatedly in Yanying Hall and flooding the throne with memorials on his abuses. Yanling daily slandered him the more. In the twelfth month of year 10 he was made Crown Prince Guest and removed from government. Cautious by nature, after his dismissal he saw no one beyond required audiences. In spring of year 11 drought struck; frontier troops lacked fodder and grain and petitioned in distress; Yanling accused Zhi, Zhang Pang, and Li Chong of stirring the armies—the account is in Yanling's biography. Dezong would have executed Zhi and three others, but Yang Cheng and other remonstrators protested fiercely; Zhi was banished instead as assistant administrator of Zhongzhou.
24
Entering the Hanlin, Zhi enjoyed Dezong's special favor—verses, banter, constant companionship. In the flight from Chang'an, though titular chief ministers remained, strategy flowed from Zhi; men called him the "inner prime minister." On the road to Shannan he fell behind the escort and missed the emperor for a night; Dezong told the troops, "A thousand in gold to whoever finds Zhi." The next day Zhi appeared; the emperor's delight showed on his face—such was his standing. After he fell out with the Wu brothers, slander seeped in and imperial warmth cooled; when Wu Tongxuan fell, the emperor saw the injustice and restored him. Honored by the throne, he would not spare himself; where policy erred he spoke without reserve. Friends warned him he was too harsh; Zhi said, "I owe the emperor my loyalty and my learning my integrity—that is enough." He mastered administration, weighing every decision to the last grain. He argued that "edicts belonged to the Secretariat drafters. In wartime Hanlin scholars had substituted only as an emergency measure; in peace they should return to their posts, and appointments of generals and ministers should go through the Secretariat again." He also said, "Hanlin scholars were private retainers; Xuanzong first meant them only for literary companionship." Opinion sided with him. Dezong rejected the proposal because it targeted the Wu brothers.
25
For ten years at Zhongzhou he lived behind closed gates, unknown by sight, shunning controversy and publishing nothing. In that malarial country he compiled fifty scrolls of the Lu Clan Collected Verified Prescriptions, which circulated widely. While in power he had demoted Li Jifu to a distant post, later shifting him to prefect of Zhongzhou. At Zhongzhou Zhi met Jifu; friends feared revenge, but Jifu received him with lavish courtesy, never mentioning the past, treating him like a chief minister and daily seeking his company as of old. Zhi was wary at first, then came to trust him deeply. Men praised Jifu as magnanimous. When Xue Yan succeeded Jifu as prefect, Dezong sent a comforting edict on his departure. Wei Gao of Xichuan repeatedly asked the throne to recall Zhi in his stead. Shunzong's accession brought edicts recalling Zhi with Yang Cheng and Zheng Yuqing. Before the summons reached him Zhi died at fifty-two, posthumously honored as Minister of War with the posthumous name Xuan.
26
使 調
His son Lu Jianli took the jinshi and served repeatedly in provincial staffs. [Historian's appraisal] The annalist writes: Later ages compare Lord Xuan of Lu to Han's Jia Yi—alike in noble bearing, upright spine, statecraft, and fierce loyalty, alike in early favor and final ruin. Yet Yi rose only to Grand Master of the Palace while Zhi reached the highest office—hardly ill treated. Gongsun Yang pleaded three reforms to Qin; Chunyu Kun spoke in riddles to Qi—from antiquity frank counsel has been hard. King Zhao of Zhou warned against rash speech for the same reason. Zhi sat where edicts were drafted, wanting one loyal heart to cure a hundred ills and one hand to hold back a host of villains; the throne did not see his sincerity, petty men assailed his faults—exile was inevitable. The Book of Odes praises the wise man who hears plain speech and mourns those who refuse "I teach you" and "hearken to me"—the sigh of sages unused. When Yao questioned and Yu bowed, the age saw such trust once; to lead by the hand and speak at the ear is no easy thing. [Appraisal] Appraisal: The worthy minister enlightens his ruler; I offer good counsel. A perverse sovereign does not finish what is right. Loyal speech repairs error; frank admonition is named hostility. Do not leave Heaven unanswered—azure Heaven stretches endless and remote.
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