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卷三十三 列傳第二十七 王僧孺 張率 劉孝綽 王筠

Volume 33: Wang Sengru; Zhang Shuai; Liu Xiaochuo

Chapter 33 of 梁書 · Book of Liang
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1
Book of Liang, Volume 33, Biography 27
2
Wang Sengru, Zhang Shuai, Liu Xiaochuo, and Wang Yun
3
祿
Wang Sengru, whose courtesy name was Sengru, came from Tan in Donghai and was the eighth-generation descendant of Su, a General of the Guard under Wei. His great-grandfather Ya had served the Jin as Left Grand Master of Splendid Happiness and as Companionship Equal to the Three Excellencies. His grandfather Zhun had been Left Chief Clerk to the Song Minister over the Masses.
4
When Sengru was five, he was reading the Classic of Filial Piety and asked his teacher what the book was about. The teacher said, "It treats loyalty and filial piety." Sengru replied, "If that is the case, I shall always want to read it." By six he could compose prose, and as he grew older he became devoted to study. The family was poor, so he often hired himself out as a copyist to support his mother; once he had finished copying a text, he could recite it from memory as well.
5
使 西 殿 西
He took office under the Qi, beginning as Left Regular Attendant in a princely establishment and as Erudite of the Imperial University. Wang Yan, Vice Director of the Masters of Writing, took a strong liking to him. When Yan became Prefect of Danyang, he appointed Sengru Commandery Merit Officer and commissioned him to compile the New Records of the Eastern Palace. He was promoted to Acting Adjutant on the staff of the Prince of Yuzhang, Grand Marshal, while retaining a concurrent post as university erudite. Zixiang, Prince of Jingling and Minister over the Masses, opened a Western Lodge for literary men, and Sengru joined the circle as well. When Crown Prince Wenhuì heard of him, he summoned Sengru to the Eastern Palace and assigned him duty at Chongming Hall. He was slated to become a palace aide, but Crown Prince Wenhuì died before the appointment could be made. When Wang Yan's son Deyuan took up the Jin'an commandery, he appointed Sengru commandery aide and later had him made magistrate of Houguan. Early in the Jianwu reign an edict called for recommended scholars. Yao Guang, Prince of Shi'an and Yangzhou inspector, recommended Secretariat Aide Wang Sui and Sengru in a memorial: "The former magistrate of Houguan, Wang Sengru of Donghai, is thirty-five. His mind favors simplicity and restraint, and his intellect is sharp and nimble. He has supported his family by writing and built his learning by copying books. He has studied by firefly light and by snow-reflected glow, woven sedge mats and plaited willow slips; he can discourse on past conduct and on men both refined and common, on the rites preserved from Sweet Springs and the precedents of the Southern Palace; he can sketch a map on the ground and explain it with a gesture; and he is no less ready than the proverbial flying squirrel with its unerring retorts, nor less careful than the keeper of bamboo documents who never drops a slip. His exchanges in inquiry never flag, and his answers to hard questions are always at hand." He was made Gentleman of the Ceremonial Section in the Masters of Writing, promoted to Attending Censor of Investigative Documents, and then sent out as magistrate of Qiantang. Earlier Sengru and Ren Fang of Le'an had met at the Prince of Jingling's Western Lodge and become literary friends. When Sengru was leaving for his county post, Fang gave him a farewell poem that begins: "You alone have known me; I alone have known you. Judge conduct and weigh words: the end must match the beginning. Honor him and esteem him, as one would orchid or iris. Body answers shadow; the journey we once shared now halts. It stands first among the hundred virtues by which a man is made. You possess it—who could slander you, who could praise you into something else? Your good name is already established—why should old age arrive so quickly? Who will hold the whip? I shall be your driver. Liu's Summary, Ban's Treatise on the Arts, Yu's Records, Xun's Register—in days past we shared these ambitions and urged each other on with mutual delight. Study behind lowered curtains without weariness; as you rise, there will be one to follow you. I praise your lamp at dawn and grieve that my candle must burn alone at night." Such was the esteem in which his fellow scholars held him.
6
簿 簿
Early in the Tianjian reign he was made Recorder on the staff of the Prince of Linchuan's rear army and served as an edict-awaiting scribe in the Wende Office. Before long he was sent out as administrator of Nanhai. Each year the commandery regularly received captives from Gaoliang and several ocean-going vessels, and foreign merchants came to trade their goods. Formerly the prefectural and commandery offices would buy at half price in the market, then resell at once for several times the profit, and successive administrations had treated this as normal practice. Sengru sighed and said, "In antiquity a man served as chief clerk of the Shu region and through his whole life kept no goods from Shu. What I wish to leave my descendants is not to be found among the treasures of Yue." He took none of it for himself. After a month in office an edict recalled him to court. Six hundred lay and clerical residents of the commandery went to the capital to ask that he be retained, but the request was denied. On his arrival he was made Gentleman of the Palace Secretariat and placed in charge of the Bureau of Compilation. He again served in the Wende Office and compiled the Register of Central Genealogies and the Daily Records. He was promoted to Left Assistant Director of the Masters of Writing while continuing to head the Bureau of Compilation as before. Soon afterward he was made General of Mobile Strikes and concurrently appointed Imperial Censor. Sengru had grown up poor. His mother sold gauze and cloth for a living and once took him to market. On the road they met the escort of an imperial censor, whose attendants forced them into a ditch. On the day he received this appointment he had outriders clear the road before him and was overcome with emotion he could not contain. Soon afterward, because of an official matter, he was demoted to General of Cloud Cavalry while retaining his concurrent posts; before long he received full confirmation in the rank. At that time Emperor Wu composed a five-hundred-character poem, "Spring Scenery and Clarified Intent," and ordered those at court, from Shen Yue on down, to compose matching pieces. The emperor judged Sengru's poem the finest. He was promoted to Director of the Palace Provisionery and sent out to oversee Wu commandery. On his return he was made Gentleman of the Personnel Section and took part in the major appointments. He refused to entertain private solicitations.
7
西
He was sent out as chief clerk to Renwei, Prince of Nankang, and administered the affairs of the princely establishment, the prefecture, and the fief. The prince's Master of Documents, Tang Daomin, was on intimate terms with the prince and controlled affairs within the establishment. Sengru repeatedly curbed him, so Daomin slandered and prosecuted him, and Sengru was seized and brought before the Southern Tribunal. He submitted a memorial resigning from the establishment: "Your servant could not avoid drowning in a mountain pool yet still straighten his cap under a plum tree. Having already brought disgrace upon himself, he now faces the binding cord. I surrender my register, lay aside my official pin, and return for now to my former dress. I reflect that Dong Zhongshu, a man of great capacity, served only as tutor to a proud prince; and Jia Yi, a man of outstanding talent, was made tutor to a prince of humble standing. Your servant, born in a fortunate age, wrongly aspired to follow in your wake, borrowed wings in the Western Yong, and stole a place in the Eastern Pavilion. Often ashamed in full dress and trailing the long hem of court, he sat on duty at the high couch to your right and alone at the head of the painted steps among the staff. By your easy words and your mild, gracious bearing, the favor shown me far surpassed what Shen Buhai or Gongsun Bai received, and the honor I hoped for often rivaled that of Ying Qu and Xu Gan. Deep virtue is hard to encounter; petty men are easy to sway. I had thought that to tear out my entrails and give up my life would not suffice to repay a single word of yours; to bare my heart and lay open my sincerity—how could that repay your repeated regard? Who would have thought that when the fine net was cast, the smallest bird would fall first; that when the Gate of Heaven had only begun to stir, the tender grass would already be struck down? With one farewell to the orchid beds of the palace, I am only now departing the five-colored clouds. Even if Heaven's net has gaps and your sage grace may still be trusted, to whom can I now entrust body and heart, and before whom can I show my face? I am about to wander through muddied pools and churned seas and take my place among fish and turtles; push through brambles, grope along the trees, and keep company with adders and serpents. How can I again look up to hear your golden voice or gaze upon your jade countenance? As I turn back from your high hall, grief falls like hail; and as I linger below your seat, my tears bind me like a tangled cord."
8
調
Sengru was dismissed from office on this charge and went for a long time without a new appointment. His friend He Jiong of Lujiang was still serving as a princely recorder, and Sengru wrote to him to express what he felt. It reads:
9
使
Since our recent parting we shall be separated by many seasons of warmth and cold. Thoughts of you weary me, and I cannot put them aside. In former times, when the old man of Li went into Qin and the man of Liang went to Yue, they still felt regret and sometimes even composed verses; how much more now, on a day of parting roads, when I am about to leave the strict net of the law—my words win no pity, and my offense admits no reckoning. To draw on the ground or carve in wood was what men of old detested. Now that the thicket of thorns has closed in, how can one be heard? That is why we clasp hands with lingering affection and part with mutual regard. You, my younger friend, love as Zou Ji did, with tears brimming to your lashes. I still raise my hand and turn away, ashamed to behave like a woman. The white bell marks the season's beginning, and the golden wind warns that the year is turning. May your daily life be free of illness, and may your comings and goings keep to what is proper. Ziyun's letters and Yuanqu's records—since trust between us is already established, how welcome they would be. They would brighten the eyes and could even relieve the pain in one's head. Excellent, excellent.
10
I lack the talent of the men of old but share their infirmities: dizzy spells strike again and again, and my wasting thirst grows ever worse. I leave transformation to fate and no longer call for physicians or take medicine. I only regret that in a single day I fell from great honor into clear statute, left the bright path though I did not stain myself, and now hold knotted grief with no one to whom I can tell it. The store of my prime years has vanished with this. I have only stolen a lofty reputation and thick renown and presumptuously received public office and human rank. My intelligence has had nowhere to repay your grace, and my strength has had no chance to requite it. That is why grief drives me to clutch my breast, until tears are exhausted and blood follows.
11
Looking back on my lack of talent, I had no foundation in learning or substance. I was trapped by food and clothing and pressed by hunger and cold, leaning on seclusion and turning to farming; my ambition went no farther than filling a granary measure. For years I was a petty clerk living on a peck of grain, serving in black robes with black ribbons. I had no wondrous talent or supreme learning, no heroic strategy or lofty design, no word that could correct custom and revive the people, no proposal that could secure the state and raise the realm. To return the jade intact to Zhao, to shoot the flying arrow that saves Yan, to rest at ease in the fiefs of Wei, to sleep content in the peace of Ying, to give one's brains to the Rong of Riyue and one's marrow to the Yuezhi, to lead a hundred thousand in unchecked advance or five thousand in a deep strike, to hold the jade tablet and carve up the realm, to inscribe one's merit on the Bell of Splendor, to wear brocade and paint one's wheel hubs cinnabar red—that is the ambition of a true hero, not something men like us can attain. I had only the petty talent of exegetical glosses and the lowest skill of seal script—speaking above silk-bound books, fluttering beside wine and meat, intricate as needlework, trivial as rice and salt. Who could win manifest glory by such means, and how could one reach the heights? Moreover my nature is blunt and awkward at advancement. I never paid court to the houses of Xu and Shi or kept company with Liang Ji and Dou Xian, bowing my head and hunching my shoulders to anticipate their wishes. That is why for three generations I met no opportunity and did not rise with the times; ten years passed without promotion—who could say my ability was not slight? When the old order was swept away and the new spread forth, when the clear dawn had broken and men embraced music and held the charts, when songs of praise had found their lord—I was still confined as a petty clerk at Censhi, separated by a thousand li at Quan Pavilion, unable to present the memorial board as palace attendant, to take part in the robe-and-cap assembly, to bear spear as rear striking force, or to join the counsels of dragon and leopard. When I submitted my resignation and returned, your favor matched that shown old retainers. I ascended the patterned stone and climbed the jade steps; on one meeting your countenance softened, on a second you received my words—without relying on attendants at your side or the help of the assembled lords. Nor was it like an old friendship of shared mat and joint study, or an early acquaintance over basket delicacies and cup wine. In a single day I attended the martial canopy and looked up at the patterned steps, stood ready like Laozi and Zhuangzi below the pillar, took a place on the mat with Yan Guang and Zhu Yun, entered the ranks of the nine thorns, went out to govern a thousand li, held a heroic office that grasped the balance, and took part in the manifest duties of human relations. Though in antiquity men were ennobled out of order and scholars taken without renown, never was there a rush like treading shadow and chasing wind.
12
The foundation was thin and the wall high, the road long and my strength faltering—collapse was inevitable, and a fall could be foreseen. In the end, because blessing had exceeded its measure, disaster arose. Men pointed at me and ghosts glared down. The leveling of the pardoning vessel was proved by the overturned cup. That is why I could not early follow the bent shadow and so took a doubtful, crooked path. Therefore the Metropolitan Commandant was stern and severe, eager to catch me as an arrow answers the string—like a beast hung in the kitchen or a bird that has left the bowstring, about to fill the cauldron and become bait for hawk and kite. Though the matter differed from boring through hide and the text was not bone-piercing, still through the tip of the tongue it became this at the brush's end: at worst I could be cast out to the north; next I could be sentenced and sent to the Left School; turned cinnabar red, I would fill their pounding firewood. Fortunately the sage lord retained the virtue of granting good pardons and extended the favor of cherishing life: he released the net and prayed over the bird, descended from his carriage and wept over guilt, pitied this abuse and favored my trembling fright, added flesh to a rotting carcass and spread leaves on a withered stump, stopped the firewood and halted the fire, so that I was not consumed to ruin. This is what is called returning the soul at the Dipper's pole and pursuing breath to Mount Tai: I was only struck from the register and made a commoner, wearing plain cloth in the lanes of home—that, after fifty years, is the ruler's gift. Wood and stone respond to yin and yang; dogs and horses know gratitude and neglect; every living being with round head and square foot—who does not bear Heaven on his head? Yet I privately grieve over this: whether a gentleman is worthy or not, once he enters court he meets jealousy; whether a woman is fair or plain, once she enters the palace she meets envy. My family is poor and I have no gifts with which to court my circle of friends. I detest those smooth village worthies and am ashamed of those hunchbacked flatterers—how could I follow others, how could I court the world? Outside I have no friends to run errands for me; within I lack powerful relatives close at hand. Therefore the men who trade in slander follow one another in brewing malice. When in a single morning I was cast aside to satisfy those who bore resentment—ah, how lamentable!
13
耀
It is that one is first honored and later humbled, once rich and now poor—this is why Shi Jilun uttered this mournful tone and why Yongmen harmonized this sorrowful tune. Moreover I am pressed by the stern breath of autumn, when all things are full of sorrow. Through the long night I toss and turn as a hundred griefs arrive together. How much more when frost wears away the green of the grass and wind shakes the shadows of the trees. Cold insects cry at evening, joining great and small in the same grief; autumn leaves wounded late in the year, mingling yellow and purple as they all fall. Spiders web the curtain; fireflies dart and vie in flight—so there is no sound of carriage tracks or horses, and how could one hear crowing cocks or barking dogs? I lower my brows to serve wife and children and raise my hand to bid farewell to visiting friends. I am about to make my neighbors of things that fly and run and shall forever bury myself in the wild weeds. Sighing with long breaths, I suddenly no longer feel that life is weighty. I have never had even a single homestead's field, yet I bear the burden of several mouths to feed. Can one say I am a gourd that does not eat? I am about to spend my life as a hired hand, earning my mouthful where I can and lodging where I may—dying suddenly in ditch and channel to feed the ants. Alas! How could I again share with two or three scholar friends the joy of knees touching in embrace, walking shoulder to shoulder, composing pure writings in brocade and gauze, and discoursing on the subtle Way? Only as Wu Feng met Xia Fu or Fan Shi encountered Kong Song—pitying my retained lodging and favoring this beggar on the road. If you are not burdened by my disgrace and occasionally send a brief note, then though I go before dogs and horses I would still be like the immortals Song and Qiao. I go—what life remains? Raise high your fragrant virtue. I cut this letter to stand for my face; brush and tears fall together.
14
西西
After a long interval he was recalled as adjutant to Anxi, Prince of Ancheng, and was successively promoted to middle recorder on the staff of Zhenyou, Prince of Shixing, consultant on the staff of the Northern Commandant and Prince of Nankang, entered duty in the Western Office, and was placed in charge of compiling genealogies. In the third year of the Putong era he died, at the age of fifty-eight.
15
Sengru loved ancient texts and amassed more than ten thousand scrolls, mostly rare editions, rivaling the family libraries of Shen Yue and Ren Fang. From youth he was devoted in will and energy, and there was no book he did not read. His writings were beautiful and elegant, often drawing on fresh allusions others had not seen, and the age prized their richness. Sengru compiled the Genealogies of the Eighteen Provinces in seven hundred ten scrolls, the Collected Genealogies of the Hundred Clans in fifteen scrolls, the Extracted Genealogies of the Southeast in ten scrolls, a literary collection in thirty scrolls, the Memorials of the Two Offices in five scrolls not included in the collection, and the New Records of the Eastern Palace—all of which circulated in his day.
16
祿 祿
Zhang Shuai, whose courtesy name was Shijian, came from Wu in Wu commandery. His grandfather Yong had served the Song as Right Grand Master of Splendid Happiness. His father Gui had been eminent under the Qi, retired to his home district in old age, and at the beginning of the Tianjian reign was appointed Right Grand Master of Splendid Happiness with the additional title of Attendant Within the Yellow Gates.
17
簿 殿 西 簿 使使 使 殿
At twelve Shuai could compose literary pieces and regularly set himself a daily quota of one poem. Gradually he advanced to fu and eulogies, and by sixteen had produced nearly two thousand pieces. When Xiao Yao Guang, Prince of Shi'an of Qi, held Yangzhou, he summoned Shuai as reception chief clerk, but Shuai declined. He began his career as Assistant Gentleman of the Composition Office. In the third year of the Jianwu reign he was recommended as a Cultivated Talent and appointed Crown Prince Attendant. With Lu Yan of the same commandery he had been close friends from childhood. They often rode together to visit Shen Yue, General of the Left Guard, and happened to find Ren Fang there. Yue said to Fang, "These two young men are talented newcomers, both southern gold—you should befriend them." From this he became friends with Fang. He was promoted to Palace Gentleman of the Masters of Writing. He was sent out as merit officer secretary to the Western Commandant and Prince of Nankang but did not take up the post because of illness. After a long interval he was appointed Crown Prince Groom. When Emperor Wu established his hegemon's office, Shuai was brought in as chief clerk to the chancellor. Early in the Tianjian reign the Prince of Linchuan and the other princes were all given literary friends and scholars. Shuai was made literary friend to the Prince of Poyang, transferred to be aide to Xie Tiao, Minister over the Masses, and served on duty in the Wende Office awaiting edicts. He was ordered to copy books of the second category and also to compile more than twenty items on women's affairs, which were edited into a hundred scrolls. He had skilled calligraphers Wang Shen of Langye, Fan Huaiyue of Wu commandery, Chu Xun, and others copy them out for the rear palace. Shuai also composed a "Fu on Awaiting Edicts" and presented it; he was greatly praised and rewarded. An imperial autograph reply said, "I have reviewed the fu and it is exceptionally fine. Sima Xiangru was skilled but not quick; Mei Gao was quick but not skilled—you may be said to combine the two men at the Golden Horse Gate." At another banquet he composed poetry in attendance, and Emperor Wu separately bestowed a poem on Shuai that reads: "In the southeast there is a talented man, and therefore he can attend to official government. Though I am ashamed before antiquity, in gaining men the present is flourishing." Shuai received the edict and returned several poems in reply. That year he was promoted to Secretariat Aide and summoned to audience in Yuhéng Hall. Emperor Wu said, "The Secretariat Aide is the purest office under Heaven; no eminent southeastern house had yet held it. Now in placing you there, it is enough for your reputation." Such was the favor shown him.
18
殿
In the third month of the fourth year there was a purification feast in Huaguang Hall. On that day the state of Henan presented dancing horses, and an edict ordered Shuai to compose a fu on them. It begins:
19
駿 使
Your servant has heard, "For Heaven's use nothing is like the dragon; for Earth's use nothing is like the horse." Therefore the Rites speak of black and piebald horses, and the Odes chant bay and white-limbed steeds. The beauty of the legacy left by former splendor is what the age has been able to hear; the marvel of spitting forth charts and soaring light appears only at certain times. Down to our Great Liang, whose radiance covers the central realm, whose broad movement proceeds from the center and whose full illumination leaves nothing outside it: where the sun sets, floating jade and piled tribute arrive; where the wind reaches, men cross peril to offer treasures. Carriages are harnessed to the swiftness of Wuhào, and the fame of Taotu and dragon-rearing is practiced. Moreover Henan again presented a crimson dragon colt with a strange appearance and surpassing hooves, able to bow and skilled at dancing. The Son of Heaven marveled at it and had your servant compose a fu, which says:
20
輿 西 姿 姿
It is now the fourth year since Liang received the Mandate; the primordial talisman has already arrived. Affairs of harmonizing the pitch pipes are fully undertaken, the instruction of the glued school must be displayed, the use of the sandalwood carriage has already ceased, and the jade chariot's progress is just setting out on tour. Examining the emperor's writings and leading through them, he spreads the imperial charts for a great survey. Rejoicing in the Way and putting it first—the numinous: if not the sage, who could praise it? He sees the river dragon's omen in Tang and gazes on the heavenly horse's auspice in Han. Already matching the talisman and comparing in virtue, moreover sharing the same strand and running through together. Inquiring into the state's beauty in this present age, it surpasses the imperial kings of former times. It spreads great brightness to illumine the dark and raises the voice of righteousness to drive off the distant. Firmly applied without end, surely it has no limit in morning or evening. All receive the current and request officials; all turn to the wind and lead their duties. They bring in strange tribute from the farthest regions and present dragon steeds from exotic lands. This one resembles antiquity in its crimson markings and is here now with vermilion wings. It has already shown virtue in the fiery age and also displayed auspice in the honored color. Drawing on the bright moon for its birth, it takes the River House as ancestor and stands upright in bestowal. It is the unique kind of North Tang and heir to the great bloodline of Western Wan. Endowed with marvelous hooves and transcending its kind, it has a special form and exceptional vigor. It is skilled at circling in the manner of Ji and Xia and knows how to tread the rhythm in golden music. It surpasses the six kinds in the Zhou stables and exceeds the eight grades in the Han mangers. It has nature's substance—how could one change one's view because of fat or thin? How could it merely wear black and be kept at ease, rather than join the advancing carriage and gallop? As for its grasp of foot-rule and hanging-chisel distinctions, cicada-attachment and crouching-rabbit differences, the forms of the ten shapes and five views, and the pattern of three hairs and eight fleshes—how could your servant describe them? They are already detailed in former regulations.
21
One need only observe its spirited clarity and look on its heroic strangeness: it leaps across the wild and suddenly passes the wheel, matches the fine qilin and runs abreast with the rear team of four. It demotes Dai Pan and makes Xiaohua seem base; it surpasses Ding Dan and leaves few heavenly steeds. Truly it has no equal to Loumian; who would choose Juébi? It can tread where Zhang and Hai never traveled and go beyond where Yu and Yi never arrived. One will not be able to count them on the fingers, and how would there be leisure to manage the reins? If tracks spread everywhere and one forgets to return, that is not what our emperor undertakes. He is just now polishing the writings of former antiquity and storing thought in distant, profound texts.
22
駿 鹿
Then, as state affairs left much leisure, spring's green had not yet shifted. The season was the shangsi festival; beautiful scenery was here. Following the old practice of the drinking at Hao, he displayed the former rites of the Luo banquet. He channeled the Yi River and divided its branches, drawing rushing water to make a winding pool. He gathered the state's worthies among the people's excellence and arrayed flourishing trees along the imperial branches. High caps mingled with linked hems; sounding jade chimed as shoulders followed one another. The clear carriage path led through the Upper Park; the golden seat of Splendid Terrace was made solemn. One looked for color breaking from green buds and waited for flowing fragrance in purple wrappings. One listened as the stone chimes were fully raised and heard Shao and Xia played together throughout. When the six movements had finished and the nine variations were complete, they matched the ceremonial birds of the Tang hall and the beast-dances of the court of Yu. One recalled the nine generations of the Xia kings and the purple bay steed of King Chen. Then he ordered a palace groom to fetch fine horses, passing through Zhou and Wei to bring them into the Gouchen enclosure. The right-hand groom was announced as arrived, yet the horse would take the halter and advance only at its own pace. It bowed its head in time with the unified pitch and paced its hooves to the throbbing drums. It lifted a dragon-like head, wheeled a deer-like body, glanced sidelong as at twin mirrors, and drew its legs together like paired mandarin ducks. It entered the arena with a graceful bow and, keeping to the melody, moved forward in measured steps. Within the rapid beats it was nimble and restless; outwardly, at each startling stroke of the drum, its movements grew swift and intricate. Its gait was qilin-like, its motion thoroughbred-like—tiger unleashed, dragon rearing; sparrow leaping, swallow alighting, swan leading, mandarin duck soaring. It outshone the supple grace of the seven-plate dance and surpassed the rising and falling cadences of the nine-sword dance. It needed no borrowed elegance from swaying sleeves, nor any borrowed artifice from the dancer Mao Huang. With supple back it answered the hymn, and bowing its chest it kept time with the elegant air. Foam flecked red at its lips, and sweat ran ochre down its flanks. Then it withdrew to Jiling, where it was gently broken and kept through the summer. Its heart swelled like wind and thunder, longing to stretch its legs across the southern fields.
23
輿
With such abundance of auspicious signs, one might ascend Mount Tai to proclaim the completed work, and officials and feudal lords would indeed crave even a reflected share of its glory; yet the Son of Heaven, grave and restrained in his conduct, had not yet been approached about it. Why was that? To press forward and to yield are different matters—is this not the very refinement befitting an emperor? Now that the four guard regions lay beyond the frontier and the Five Peaks stood within the inner commanderies, it was fitting to broaden the rites of ceding the throne below and enrich the teachings of the feng sacrifice above, leaving the pure capital behind by day and turning toward the cloud-wreathed suburbs in solemn procession. The carriage would leave the dust behind and halt its tracks, swift as a flying bird beside a zebra. Gathering heaven, earth, and humanity in one galloping drive, he would guide the five imperial horses and surge beyond all bounds. Auspicious clouds would shade the imperial canopy, and gentle winds would wing the train of attendant carriages. There would be no reckless handling of the jade axles, no overtaxing of the golden chariot. He would adorn the sacred paths of Mount Song and restore the ancient altar at Fenggao. His instruction would deepen blessings for both men and gods, and his bounty would broadly nourish the people. His blazing glory would shine through long ages and gather abundant blessings for the myriad people; as for this humble servant, still firm in his prime, I harbor the great wish to follow the imperial host. Surely from that moment I would display my talents and share in the offerings rising from the sacrificial hearth. I grieve for Sima Xiangru's testament left unfinished and pity the sorrow Zhou Nan could not lay to rest.
24
At that time he, together with Dao Qia and Zhou Xingsi, received an edict to compose rhapsodies; Emperor Gaozu judged Shuai and Xingsi the finest craftsmen among them.
25
That year he resigned his post to observe mourning for his father. His father kept several dozen courtesans; among them a singer of exceptional beauty caught the eye of a fellow townsman, Gu Wanzhi, an aide in the Bureau of Rites, who sought her hand in marriage. She refused, and in the end took the tonsure and became a nun. On one occasion a fasting assembly was held at Shu's home, and Wanzhi sent an urgent letter accusing Shu of adultery with the singer. The Southern Office reported the matter to the throne; Emperor Gaozu, cherishing Shu's talent, shelved the memorial, but the affair still stirred public gossip.
26
After his mourning period ended, he went a long time without taking up office again. In the seventh year an edict summoned him back to service, appointing him Middle Recorder on the staff of the Prince of Jian'an under Central Authority; he was included in changming inquiries with no fixed term. Before long an edict posted him directly to the Shouguang Office to compile copies from the bing and ding sections of the archives. In the eighth year, when the Prince of Jin'an took up the garrison at Stone City, Shu was appointed Middle Recorder on his Cloud Banner staff. When the prince moved to South Yanzhou, Shu was transferred to Consultative Military Attendant under the Xuanyi command and also retained his post as recorder. When the prince returned to the capital, Shu was appointed Gentleman of the Central Secretariat. In the thirteenth year, when the prince took up his post in Jingzhou, Shu was again appointed Consultative Attendant under the Xuanhui command and concurrently served as magistrate of Jiangling. When the prince moved to Jiangzhou, Shu served as consultative attender and chief recorder, and was sent out to supervise the commanderies of Yuzhang and Linchuan. Shu served on the prince's staff for ten years, and the favor and courtesy shown him were exceptionally warm.
27
Shu was fond of wine, forgiving in all things, and especially heedless of household affairs. While stationed in Xin'an, he sent a household servant to transport three thousand shi of rice back to his home in Wu; by the time it arrived, more than half was gone. Shu asked what had happened, and the servant replied, "Sparrows and mice ate it." Shu laughed and said, "What formidable sparrows and mice!" In the end he never pursued the matter. From youth he loved to write, and for every poem and rhapsody listed in the Qilüe and the Yiwen zhi whose text was now lost, he composed a replacement. His Literary Balance in fifteen scrolls and his collected works in thirty scrolls circulated widely. His son Chang inherited the ducal title.
28
Liu Xiaochuo, styled Xiaochuo, came from Pengcheng; his original given name was Ran. His grandfather Xun was Minister of Works under the Song and was posthumously ennobled as Duke Zhongzhao. His father Hui served as Attendant Gentleman on the staff of the Qi Grand Marshal.
29
使 便
Xiaochuo was bright as a child and could write polished prose by the age of seven. His maternal uncle Wang Rong, a Gentleman of the Central Secretariat under Qi, admired him greatly and often took him along in his carriage to visit friends and kin, calling him a prodigy. Rong often said, "Of all the writers under heaven, if not for me the crown would belong to A-shi." A-shi was Xiaochuo's childhood name. During the Qi, Hui was in charge of drafting imperial edicts and proclamations. Before Xiaochuo had even reached the age of formal study, Hui regularly had him draft the documents instead. His father's friends Shen Yue, Ren Fang, Fan Yun, and others heard of him and all came calling before anyone else; Ren Fang in particular admired and befriended him. Fan Yun was more than ten years Hui's senior; his son Xiaocai and Xiaochuo were both fourteen or fifteen. When Yun met Xiaochuo, he immediately proposed a bond of elder and younger brother and had Xiaocai bow to him. At the start of the Tianjian era he entered service as Associate Archivist and wrote "Poem on Returning to Bathe" as a gift for Ren Fang; Fang replied with a poem that began, "That fair gentleman of Luoyang sends me verses steeped in autumn feeling. Can such lines truly comfort an old man given to lament? They only deepen the trust this old man places in you. A faithful historian both praises and condemns, and the office that governs him especially despises wickedness. Many a winding path leaves fine traces; even silence, perhaps, may prove the better remedy. Honor your sharp gifts, plow in spring, and strive for the autumn yield." Such was the esteem in which leading men held him.
30
便簿
He was promoted to Attendant of the Crown Prince and soon added the concurrent post of Gentleman of the Water Section in the Ministry of Works. When he submitted a memorial declining the appointment, the Emperor answered in his own hand, "Fine brocade cannot be woven all at once; you should also gain some familiarity with paperwork." Before long he received the regular appointment. Emperor Gaozu had a refined taste for ancient seal script, and during banquets and imperial outings he would summon Shen Yue, Ren Fang, and others to speak their minds and compose poetry and rhapsodies; Xiaochuo was invited as well. On one banquet occasion he composed seven poems on the spot; the Emperor read each one with admiration, and from that day both court and countryside revised their opinion of him.
31
西西 使 使
Soon an edict put him in charge of affairs in Qingzhou and the northern and southern Xu prefectures; he then went out as recorder to the Prince of Pingnan, Prince of Ancheng, and accompanied the prince to his post. He was soon appointed supplemental Crown Prince Groom, then promoted to Vice Minister of the Gold Section, and afterward returned to the post of Crown Prince Groom, where he managed the Eastern Palace records. He served as magistrate of Shangyu, then was promoted to Assistant Director of the Secretariat. Emperor Gaozu told Attendant Zhou She, "The foremost office ought to go to the foremost man." For that reason Xiaochuo was given the post. He was dismissed for an official offense. He was soon reappointed Assistant Director of the Secretariat, then sent out as consultative attender to the Prince of Zhennan, Prince of Ancheng; when he returned to court he was dismissed because of the affair. He was recalled as recorder on the Anxi staff, rose through successive posts to Consultative Military Attendant under the Anxi Cavalry General, was by edict temporarily placed in charge of the Right Chief Clerk of the Ministry of Civil Affairs, then promoted to Grand Steward and Crown Prince Steward, and again took charge of the Eastern Palace records. At that time Crown Prince Zhaoming loved men of talent and cherished literature; Xiaochuo, together with Yin Yun of Chen, Lu Chuo of Wu, Wang Jun of Langya, Dao Qia of Pengcheng, and others, all received the same honored treatment as guests. When the crown prince built the Hall of Delighting in Worthies, he had the painters depict Xiaochuo there first. The crown prince's literary output was vast, and many talented men wished to compile it, but the crown prince entrusted that task to Xiaochuo alone, who collected the pieces and wrote the preface. He was promoted to Supernumerary Regular Cavalry Attendant with concurrent appointment as Minister of Justice, and soon received the regular post.
32
At first Xiaochuo and Dao Qia were on friendly terms and frequented the Eastern Palace together. Xiaochuo believed himself more gifted than Qia and, at every banquet, openly scorned his writing; Qia took deep offense. When Xiaochuo became Minister of Justice, he brought a concubine into his official quarters while his mother remained in their private residence. Qia was soon appointed Censor-in-Chief, sent a clerk to investigate, and impeached him with the charge, "He brings a young woman into the imperial offices while leaving his aged mother in a humble dwelling." To conceal the scandal, Emperor Gaozu altered the word for "younger sister" to the word for "concubine." He was dismissed from office on that charge. Xiaochuo's younger brothers were then serving with princes in Jing and Yong; he wrote them a letter listing ten grievances they held against Qia, and every line disparaged the Dao family. He also made a separate copy, sealed it, and sent it to the Eastern Palace; Crown Prince Zhaoming ordered it burned unread.
33
使 退 宿 殿
At that time Prince Shiyizu had been sent to Jingzhou, and upon reaching his post he wrote to Xiaochuo: "Retired at home, you have ample leisure to roam freely among the classics and give voice to your temperament. Of late you have seldom measured yourself against the ancients—not because restraint keeps you from scratching the writer's itch; After all, men like Yu Qing and Sima Qian were born of just such impulses; surely your urge to write has only grown stronger. Paper grew costly in Luoyang and your name resounded in the capital—you and your peers each had your hour; what a glorious season that was! Lately, on the road, my duties have been lighter and I have managed a little writing; though I have produced no travel chronicle, I have composed several pieces steeped in nostalgia. Since my arrival here, I have been buried in a swarm of petty tasks. Were I to send you the scribblings of a minor talent, I would fear the disgrace Ruan Ji brought upon himself at Lujiang; and were I to waylay you with them, I would worry about provoking the sort of plot a staff officer might hatch. For now I am raising the curtain of office to spur myself on, seeking out the people's woes without pause; how could I possibly find leisure for literary work? Yet in my heart affection never ceases; I long to hear your gracious words, but no word from you has reached me. It is like dreaming of warm jade or thirsting for a luminous pearl—though I cannot compare with Bian He or Sui He, I am still eager for such treasures. You must have written something new—surely you can share it with me. Do not keep me waiting while you deliberate; do not let my request come to nothing. Unable to convey my full appreciation, I send this letter to stand in for what is in my heart. I reckon the distance by every road and await the late return of your gracious reply." Xiaochuo replied: "I humbly hear that since you left the imperial capital for the Jingzhou post, without need of censure you have already produced work of rare brilliance. Though I have lately glimpsed a fragment of your brocade, I have not yet seen the whole jade. In old days at Linzi the prince's rhapsodies all went to Yang Xiu, yet that treasure chest was hardly emptied—I only feel shame when I think of those greater men of the past. At Zhugong the old custom was that many court robes meant much to attend to—Li Gu recommended two commanderies and Xu Zhen reported on seven districts; your way combines both stern authority and gentle care. You surely wish your deeds to be inscribed in metal and stone, and are reluctant to win fame through mere letters. Although I fall short of grasping your dual aims, by chance I have hit upon your noble purpose. Since I withdrew to live simply behind closed doors, I have been like Yang Lun who never left home, like Zhang Zhi who barred his gate. In old times Zhao Qi, crushed by adversity, wrote freely about right and wrong; the Han minister Ban Gu, his ambitions thwarted, wrote at length of dynastic rise and fall. They were men of another age; I am no fit comparison to them. I fear the patterned leopard is blameless—yet writing has become my crime. Speaking from this, how could it be easy? So I have kept brush and ink hidden through many seasons; I lack both Liu Chen's "Southern Mountain" and Ban Gu's Wei River rhapsody—how could I compare with those who bring delight, or repay your praise and encouragement? Moreover my talent ill suits descriptive composition; I dare not attempt works like Xuan Gen's; My case is not like an old pledge kept at all costs; I would rather not share the fate of Zhu Zhihai. Looking inward upon myself, my heart is full of sigh upon sigh. Yet when I think of you the distance is like the far side of the Han River—though my heart is small, it crosses nine deaths in a single night. Your Highness has honored a humble dwelling with your affection and sent repeated inquiries; if even eating mulberries makes one remember a voice, how much more should I cherish you!"
34
使 使 西 使 貿 殿 使
After Xiaochuo was dismissed, Emperor Gaozu repeatedly sent Vice Director Xu Mian with imperial messages of consolation, and at court banquets he was regularly invited to join the company. When Emperor Gaozu wrote the "Field-Cultivation Poem," he again had Mian show the draft to Xiaochuo first. Dozens were then composing on imperial command; Emperor Gaozu judged Xiaochuo the finest craftsman, and that very day issued an edict restoring him as Consultant to the Prince of Xiangdong, Western Palace Lieutenant. He memorialized his thanks: "Your servant cannot hold a pearl to ward off calamity or tilt the branch to shelter his feet; because of this blunt good fortune, I have often clashed with others. I also fell in with friends who nursed hidden grudges; when I held the Censorate post, they twisted truth and falsehood until slander took root. Sun and moon wheel through the sky, and from above wrong and right are made plain. Whenever prison reports reached the throne, Your Majesty saw through the injustice done to Jiang Ji; innocence was proved by burning hair—not through Chen Zheng's eloquence. Thus I slipped through the fine net and escaped harsh punishment, returning to live among common soldiers like neighbors in the age of Tang—restoring life to the dead and flesh to bone; how could such grace be matched? Your servant is truly without understanding—who would not feel bound to Heaven for such mercy? Though I was far from the fields and had despaired of the high palace, Your Majesty lowered yourself to guide me and favored me with gracious counsel—for this petty creature, that alone would be honor enough to die for. How much more when stiff branches that had shed their leaves suddenly receive cloud and dew; among the ranks of office I again take my place among the great and flourishing. But I am rotten wood smeared with dung—any extended praise is wasted on me; chasing shadows and tethering wind—in the end I can offer no worthy reply." He also memorialized his thanks to the Eastern Palace: "Your servant has heard the ancient sages say, 'When the multitude hates a man, examine him; when the multitude loves a man, examine him.'" Is it not that standing alone draws accumulated slander, while banding together wins accumulated praise? Between liking and disliking, clear judgment is indispensable. That is why Yan Ying, twice magistrate of a small town, was slandered at first and praised afterward. Later praise came from pleasing others; earlier slander came from walking the straight path. Thus one dog's bite can spoil the sweetness and sourness of fine wine; one hand's shake can decide whether a fine tree lives or dies. Zou Yang also said that whether a scholar is worthy or foolish, once he enters court he meets jealousy. Think of Zang Wen driving down Huiliu Ji, Jin Shang banishing Qu Yuan, the Marquis of Jiang excluding Jia Yi, and Gongsun Hong trapping Zhufu Yan—since then their kind has been truly numerous. With a bent brush and brief words I cannot tell the whole story; what this inch of brush has glimpsed often makes me gnash my teeth. Your Highness teaches the Way and reads widely, sharing the love of learning; past records of wrong and right are fully comprehended in your clear sight. Your servant once stood in attendance and heard Your Highness's own words on how 'the wind blows and brocade patterns appear'—a likeness of slander and malice; the earnest imperial intent moved me deeply. Your servant is foolish by nature yet walks a straight path; I could not stop trouble at its first stir—before long I met conflict and disaster. Though the court picked at hairs and washed stains and sighed together; strict documents and harsh law still required that those who indulged evil be reported. They cared nothing for betraying friends and sought only to corner their lord—had Heaven's Lord not looked beyond himself, exposed Zhao Yang's cruelty, and seen through the empty slander woven into legal documents, I would have remained in bonds and fetters; by fortune I was spared by mediocre blindness. You had just issued the dismissal edict, yet still sent word summoning me to court. This petty man did not know how to adapt; I hitched my horse and hung up my carriage and ceased attending court. I then wished to vanish without trace and retire to forest and valley. I did not realize Heaven's ear is never absent and that haste always shows itself—you did not fault me for refusing, but again had my name entered at the cloud steps of court. You showed a generous and harmonious countenance and bestowed words gentle as cloth and silk—grace to be recorded for a thousand ages, already more than I deserve; How much more when the favor equals a special summons and the glory equals rising from humble beginnings—looking to antiquity and examining myself, I feel only more unworthy. Yet though my loyal heart is unchanged and forever hidden in wheel-tracks, those skilled in words weave this slander against me. Moreover I am like a plant that blooms in winter, its branches and leaves already withered—I vainly receive your virtue's dew and cannot repay the spring sun."
35
西
Later he was appointed Crown Prince Steward; when his mother died he left office to mourn. When mourning ended he was appointed Consultative Officer on the staff of the Prince of Xiangdong, General Who Pacifies the West; he was promoted to Palace Attendant and then Director of the Personnel Section, but for accepting a bundle of silk he was impeached by the donor and demoted to Chief Secretary to the Prince of Linhe, Prince of Xixin. Before long he was transferred to Director of the Secretariat. In the fifth year of Datong he died in office, at the age of fifty-nine.
36
Xiaochuo won great fame early, but he relied on his spirit and pride in his talent, often looking down on others; when displeased he spoke in the harshest terms of slander. General-in-Chief Zang Dun, Grand Storekeeper Shen Senggao, and others all enjoyed the favor of the times, but Xiaochuo especially looked down on them. At every court assembly he spoke with none of the ministers, but instead called grooms over to ask about road conditions—thereby often offending people.
37
Xiaochuo's literary style was revered by the younger generation; the world prized his writings, and each piece finished in the morning circulated by evening; enthusiasts recited and copied them until they spread to distant lands. His collected works run to several hundred thousand words and circulate widely.
38
Xiaochuo's brothers and all the sons and nephews of his clan numbered seventy at the time, all able to compose writing—unprecedented in recent times. His three younger sisters married Wang Shuying of Langya, Zhang Sheng of Wu commandery, and Xu Ti of Donghai—all were accomplished in letters; Xu Ti's wife wrote with especial clarity and force. Xu Ti, son of Vice Director Xu Mian, served as prefect of Jin'an; when he died and his coffin returned to the capital, his wife composed a sacrificial text of extraordinary pathos. Mian had originally intended to write a lament himself, but once he read this text he put down his brush.
39
簿
Xiaochuo's son Liang, courtesy name Qiuxin. From youth he loved learning and had literary talent; he was especially steeped in Jin-dynasty anecdotes, and people of the time called him "the Jin History in a skin wrapper." He served as Assistant Gentleman of the Compilation Bureau, Crown Prince Attendant, prince's household chief clerk, merit officer, and recorder-attendant to the Prince of Zhongcheng.
40
Wang Yun, courtesy name Yuanli and also styled Derou, was a native of Linyi in Langya. His grandfather Sengqian was Duke Jianmu, Minister of Works of Qi. His father Ji served as Grand Master of Palace Counsel.
41
Yun was precocious from childhood; at seven he could already compose writing. At sixteen he wrote "Peony Fu," a work of great beauty. When grown he was quiet and fond of learning, and was equally famous with his cousin Tai. Xie Lan of Chen commandery and his younger brother Ju also enjoyed great repute, and people of the time said: "The Xies have Lan and Ju; the Wangs have Yang and Ju." Ju was Tai's childhood name and Yang was Yun's—they were both pet names.
42
殿 輿
He began his career as Acting Aide on the staff of the Prince of Linchuan, Central Army Commander; he was transferred to Crown Prince Attendant and then appointed Director of the Palace Section in the Ministry of Works. Since the Wang clan crossed the Yangzi, none had held a Secretariat post; some urged him to hesitate and decline; Yun said: "Lu Ji was the finest talent of the southeast; Wang Huizhi walked alone in Jiangdong—I may compare my footsteps with men of old; what is there to regret?" Thereupon he gladly took up the post. Director Shen Yue, the literary patriarch of the age, whenever he saw Yun's writings would sigh in admiration and chant them aloud, thinking himself not Yun's equal. Once he said to Yun: "When Cai Yong met Wang Can he said: 'He is a grandson of the Wang house; all the books in my home shall be shared with him. Though I am not clever, I ask to attach myself to those words. Since Xie Tiao and the other worthies passed away, the friends of my heart are nearly all gone; I did not expect, in weary old age, to meet you again." Yue built a pavilion study at his suburban residence; Yun composed Ten Odes on Plants and wrote them on the walls, copying the text directly without adding titles. Yue told people: "These poems present things in their own form without needing titles." Yue was composing "Suburban Residence Fu"; he had been accumulating ideas for a long time and it was still unfinished, so he asked Yun to show him the draft; when Yun read to "the female rainbow coiled," Yue clapped his hands in delight and said: "I once feared people would read it as ni." Then to "fallen stones pounding stars" and "ice hanging in the pit and girding the islet." Yun beat time with his hand and praised each passage. Yue said: "Connoisseurs are few and true appreciation nearly gone—that is why I asked you here, for these few lines alone." Yun once sent Yue a poem; Yue replied at once: "Reading the poem you showed me, I find it truly beautiful and correct—its harmonies ring against the page and light seems to spill from every character. Like Kui and Boya echoing in reply, I still feel more shame than pride; When peacocks and kingfishers flock together in flight, how could I not feel deeply ashamed? Old habit dulls the eye, yet each time I wait for something new, splendor arrives in full—until even the first stirrings are exhausted. Brilliance meets and shines forth; orchids sway and jade chimes ring—such perfect harmony cannot be compared with mere pipes and reeds. The reach of your thought and power extends to this height; I sigh in admiration, chant and study your lines, and lose myself in them entirely. In my youth and prime I loved this kind of writing; but while I was still savoring it, old age came upon me all at once. That I cannot match the younger generation is not mine alone to say; to monopolize beauty and recommend talent truly belongs to you, my lord. Let us wait for a free day, and then meet face to face at leisure." Yun could compose even under the hardest rhyme schemes; at every public banquet where they wrote together, his language was invariably beautiful. Yue often said calmly to Emperor Gaozu: "Among the great literary houses of recent times, I see only Wang Yun standing alone."
43
He rose through the ranks to Crown Prince Groom and Palace Attendant, and concurrently managed the Eastern Palace records. Crown Prince Zhaoming loved literary scholars and often feasted with Yun, Liu Xiaochuo, Lu Chi, Dao Qia, Yin Yun, and others in the Mystic Garden; the Crown Prince alone took Yun by the sleeve and Xiaochuo by the shoulder and said: "This is what people mean by 'grasping Fuqiu's sleeve with the left hand and patting Hongya's shoulder with the right.' Such was the esteem in which he was held. Yun and Yin Yun were also honored for their refined and upright bearing. He served outside the capital as Assistant Magistrate of Danyang and Consultation Aide on the staff of the Northern General of the Guard, then was transferred to Secretariat Gentleman. By imperial command he composed the memorial stele inscription for Master Baozhi of Kaishan Temple, in language of exceptional beauty and grace. He was also ordered to compile thirty volumes of Secretariat memorials and petitions, together with the fu and hymns he had submitted, all gathered into one collection. Soon he was also made Chief Administrator to the Prince of Xiangdong, General of Ningyuan, and handled the affairs of the princely establishment, fief, and commandery. He was appointed Crown Prince Household Commandant and again took charge of the records.
44
調 祿
In the first year of Putong he left office to mourn his mother. Yun was deeply filial; his grief emaciated him beyond what ritual required, and after the mourning period ended he remained ill and incapacitated for a long time. In the sixth year he was appointed Director of Personnel in the Ministry of Works, then transferred to Crown Prince Household Vice-Administrator; he headed the Palace Guard Directorate and later the Footsoldiers as well. In the second year of Zhongdatong he was transferred to Left Chief Administrator of the Minister over the Masses. In the third year Crown Prince Zhaoming died; by edict Yun composed the lament eulogy and was once again admired with sighs of praise. Soon he was sent out as General of Upright Might and Prefect of Linhai; lawsuits were brought against him in the commandery, and for many years he did not respond to summons. Early in Datong he was recalled as Chief Administrator to the Prince of Yuzhang, Cloud-Banner General, and then transferred to Director of the Secretariat. In the fifth year he was appointed Minister Steward. The following year he was transferred to Minister of Revenue. In the first year of Zhongdatong he was sent out as Bright Might General and Prefect of Yongjia, but firmly declined on grounds of illness; he was reassigned as Grand Master for Splendid Happiness, and soon transferred to Cloud Cavalry General and Left Chief Administrator of the Minister over the Masses. In the second year of Taiqing, when Hou Jing pressed his attack, Yun did not enter the city. The following year, when Emperor Taizong took the throne, Yun was made Crown Prince Household Mentor. Yun's old residence had already been burned by bandits, so he lodged in the home of Xiao Ziyun, Director of the Imperial University; robbers attacked one night, and in terror he fell into a well and died at the age of sixty-nine. More than ten members of his household were killed as well.
45
滿
Yun was slight in build and stood less than six chi tall. He was generous by nature and never looked down on others because of his literary gifts, yet from youth he excelled in talent and fame and, together with Liu Xiaochuo, was highly regarded in his time. In his self-preface he wrote: "From youth I loved books, and in old age my devotion has only deepened. Even when I only glanced at something in passing, I would jot it down at once; when I read those notes again later, my pleasure only deepened—habit had become second nature, and I never noticed my hand growing tired. From the age of thirteen or fourteen, from the yihai year, the second year of Jianwu under Qi, to the sixth year of Datong under Liang—that is forty years. In childhood I read each of the Five Classics seventy or eighty times. I loved the Zuo Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals and often recited it aloud; I made abridged and expanded selections from it, reading it through three times and copying it five times. The other classics, together with the Rites of Zhou, Ceremonial Rites, Discourses of the States, Erya, Classic of Mountains and Seas, and Materia Medica, I copied twice each. Histories, philosophical works, and collected writings I read once each. I never asked anyone else to copy for me; I copied everything myself, more than a hundred scrolls in all. These copies are not worth passing on to collectors; I made them only to guard against forgetting." He also wrote to his sons about the family's literary collections: "Historical records say that the Cui clan of Anping and the Ying clan of Runan both produced literary talent for generations; that is why Fan Ye said of the Cui clan, 'For generations they monopolized the carving of dragons. Yet that amounted to no more than two or three generations of fathers and sons; They did not have, across seven generations, fame and virtue renewed in succession, offices passed from father to son, and every man with a collected work, as our house has. Junior Mentor Shen Yue once said: "From youth I loved the teachings of the hundred schools; I have served as historian through four dynasties; since the beginning of history there has never been such unbroken succession of rank and literary talent as in the flourishing of the Wang clan." Look up at the hall our forebears built, and strive each in your own way." Yun compiled his own writings into collections named for each office he had held: ten volumes each for his terms as Groom, Secretariat Gentleman, Vice-Administrator, Personnel Director, Left Assistant, Prefect of Linhai, and Minister Steward, plus thirty volumes of Ministry of Works memorials—a hundred volumes in all, which circulated in the world.
46
[1]
The historian Yao Cha, Minister of Personnel, writes: Wang Sengru's vast learning and Liu Xiaochuo's literary brilliance—their lord did not fail to appreciate them, nor were their talents left unused; for men like them to take purple and blue robes and reach the highest honors should have been easy! Yet Xiaochuo would not restrain his words or conduct; he brought ruin on his own reputation and spent his best years in frustration—it was not that he lacked opportunity. Editorial footnote marker in the source text.
47
The full text of this chapter is collated against the Zhonghua Shuju edition of the Book of Liang, May 1973.
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