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汲鄭列傳

Biographies of Ji and Zheng

Chapter 120 of 史記 ✓ Translated
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Chapter 120
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1
使 使 使 便
Ji An, whose courtesy name was Changru, was a native of Puyang. His forebears had enjoyed the favor of the ancient rulers of Wei. For seven generations down to Ji An himself, every generation had produced ministers and grandees. Through the privilege of his father's rank, Ji An served as Attendant to the Crown Prince during the reign of Emperor Jing, and his solemn bearing inspired awe in all who knew him. When Emperor Jing passed away and the Crown Prince ascended the throne, Ji An was appointed Master of Ceremonies. When the tribes of Eastern Yue fell to fighting among themselves, the Emperor dispatched Ji An to investigate. He never reached his destination but turned back at Wu, reporting to the throne: 'The Yue people have always fought among themselves—it is simply their way. Such matters are beneath the dignity of an envoy of the Son of Heaven.' When a fire broke out in Henei and spread to consume more than a thousand homes, the Emperor once again sent Ji An to investigate. Upon his return, he reported: 'A household fire spread to the neighboring buildings—this is no cause for concern. But as I passed through Henan, I found more than ten thousand households ravaged by flood and drought—so desperate that in some cases fathers and sons were reduced to eating one another. I took it upon myself, bearing my staff of authority, to open the Henan granaries and distribute grain to the starving people. I now return my staff of authority and humbly submit myself to punishment for acting without imperial sanction.' The Emperor, impressed by his integrity, pardoned him and appointed him Magistrate of Xingyang. Ji An considered a mere magistrate's post beneath his dignity and, claiming illness, retired to his country home. When the Emperor learned of this, he summoned Ji An back to court and appointed him Palace Grandee. But because he so often spoke his mind in blunt remonstrance, he was unable to remain at court for long and was transferred to serve as Governor of Donghai. Ji An was a student of Huang-Lao philosophy. In governing, he preferred tranquility and non-interference, carefully selecting able deputies and entrusting them with the administration. His style of rule focused on the broad strokes and did not trouble itself with petty details. Ji An was frequently ill and would remain bedridden in his private quarters, rarely venturing out. Yet after little more than a year, the Donghai commandery was flourishing under exemplary governance. The people praised him widely. When the Emperor heard of his success, he summoned Ji An to court and appointed him Commandant of the Noble Ranks, elevating him to the ranks of the Nine Ministers. His approach to governance remained one of non-interference—he upheld broad principles and refused to be constrained by the letter of the law.
2
By temperament, Ji An was proud and blunt, sparing little thought for social niceties. He would rebuke people to their faces and could not abide the failings of others. Those who shared his views he treated warmly, but those who disagreed he could hardly bear to look upon. For this reason, few officials chose to attach themselves to him. And yet he was a man devoted to learning who kept company with wandering knights, a man who prized integrity and honor. His personal conduct was beyond reproach, and he delighted in speaking truth to power, frequently provoking the Emperor's displeasure. He had always admired the example set by Fu Bai and Yuan Ang. He was close friends with Guan Fu, Zheng Dangshi, and Liu Qi, the Director of the Imperial Clan. Here too, his habit of blunt remonstrance prevented him from holding his position for long.
3
退
At that time, Tian Fen, the Marquis of Wu'an and younger brother of the Empress Dowager, held the post of Chancellor. When officials of the two-thousand-bushel rank came to pay their respects, he would not deign to return their courtesies. Yet when Ji An encountered Tian Fen, he never once performed a full bow, offering only a casual salute with cupped hands. The Emperor was at that time actively courting men of letters and Confucian scholars. When the Emperor spoke of his grand ambitions, Ji An replied: 'Your Majesty harbors boundless desires within, yet makes an outward show of benevolence and righteousness—how can you hope to emulate the governance of Yao and Shun!' The Emperor fell silent, his face darkening with rage, and abruptly dismissed the court. Every minister and grandee at court trembled for Ji An's sake. After withdrawing, the Emperor said to his attendants: 'What an impossible fool Ji An is!' When some of the other ministers rebuked him, Ji An replied: 'The Son of Heaven appoints his ministers to advise and assist him—surely not to have them merely flatter and fawn, leading the sovereign into unrighteousness? Once a man holds such a position, even if he values his own skin, how can he bear to bring disgrace upon the court!'
4
滿 使
Ji An was plagued by illness, and on one occasion was bedridden for nearly three months. The Emperor repeatedly granted him sick leave, yet he never fully recovered. When he fell ill for the last time, Zhuang Zhu petitioned the Emperor on his behalf for an extension of leave. The Emperor asked: 'What sort of man is this Ji An, after all?' Zhuang Zhu replied: 'If Ji An were judged solely on his ability to handle official duties, he would be no better than any other man. But when it comes to safeguarding a young sovereign, he would hold the fortress with unyielding resolve—no summons could lure him away, and no command could dislodge him. Even men who fancy themselves the equals of Meng Ben and Xia Yu could not wrest his loyalty from him.' The Emperor said: 'Just so. The ancients spoke of ministers devoted to the altars of state—Ji An comes close to that ideal.'
5
使
When the Grand General Wei Qing attended him at court, the Emperor would receive him while lounging casually by the latrine. When Chancellor Gongsun Hong came for a private audience, the Emperor would sometimes receive him without even donning his formal cap. But when Ji An sought an audience, the Emperor would never receive him unless he was properly capped and dressed. Once, the Emperor was sitting informally in the military tent when Ji An approached to present a report. Caught without his cap, the Emperor spotted Ji An in the distance, retreated behind the curtains, and sent an attendant to approve the memorial on his behalf. Such was the degree of respect the Emperor accorded him.
6
使 忿
Zhang Tang had recently been appointed Commandant of Justice, tasked with revising the laws. Ji An repeatedly challenged him before the Emperor, declaring: 'You serve as Chief Justice, yet you have neither upheld the legacy of the former emperors above nor suppressed the wickedness in the hearts of the people below. You have failed to bring peace and prosperity to the nation, and the prisons remain full—you have accomplished neither of these goals. Rather than striving to enforce proper conduct and build real achievements, why do you seize upon the late emperors' statutes only to throw them into confusion with endless revisions? Mark my words—with such conduct, your line will come to an end.' Whenever Ji An debated with Zhang Tang, Tang would invariably retreat into the fine print and petty technicalities of the law. Ji An, unbending and holding to his lofty principles, refused to yield, and at last erupted in fury: 'Everyone says that petty clerks should never be made ministers—and indeed it is true! It is Zhang Tang who has made the whole empire stand frozen in terror, barely daring to glance sideways!'
7
使
At that time, the Han dynasty was waging campaigns against the Xiongnu and working to win over the barbarian peoples on all four frontiers. Ji An advocated simplicity in governance and, seizing every opportunity when the Emperor was at ease, would urge him to pursue peace through marriage alliances with the Hu rather than resorting to war. The Emperor, however, was increasingly drawn to Confucian scholarship and had elevated Gongsun Hong to a place of honor. As the affairs of state multiplied, officials and commoners alike grew ever more cunning and manipulative. The Emperor took to parsing the fine points of the law with relish, and Zhang Tang and his ilk frequently submitted judicial verdicts to curry favor. Ji An was relentless in his criticism of the Confucians, confronting Gongsun Hong and others to their faces with the charge that they harbored nothing but deceit, dressing up their cleverness to flatter the Emperor. As for the legal clerks, he accused them of twisting the law and crafting specious accusations to entrap the innocent, denying them any chance of vindication—and counting each conviction as a triumph. Yet the Emperor continued to elevate Gongsun Hong and Zhang Tang, who in turn harbored a deep hatred of Ji An. Even the Emperor himself had grown weary of Ji An, and the two men sought a pretext to have him put to death. When Gongsun Hong became Chancellor, he said to the Emperor: 'The district of the Right Prefect of the Capital is filled with nobles and members of the imperial clan—it is exceedingly difficult to govern. Only a minister of proven authority can manage it. I recommend that Ji An be transferred to the post of Right Prefect of the Capital.' Ji An served as Right Prefect of the Capital for several years, and the administration ran smoothly under his watch.
8
Even after the Grand General Wei Qing had risen to ever greater eminence—his own sister having become Empress—Ji An continued to treat him as an equal. Someone advised Ji An: 'The Son of Heaven expects every minister to defer to the Grand General, and his honor and rank only continue to grow—surely you cannot refuse to bow before him.' Ji An replied: 'For the Grand General to have a guest who offers only a casual salute rather than a bow—does that not, in fact, add to his stature?' When the Grand General heard this, his admiration for Ji An only grew. He frequently sought Ji An's counsel on difficult matters of state, treating him with greater courtesy than he had shown in all their years of acquaintance.
9
When the King of Huainan plotted his rebellion, he was wary of Ji An, saying: 'Ji An delights in blunt remonstrance and would sooner die than abandon his principles—he cannot be deceived or led astray. But as for winning over Chancellor Gongsun Hong—that would be as easy as lifting a veil or shaking leaves from a tree.'
10
As the Emperor's repeated campaigns against the Xiongnu bore fruit, Ji An's counsel was increasingly ignored.
11
When Ji An first took his place among the Nine Ministers, Gongsun Hong and Zhang Tang were still petty officials. As Gongsun Hong and Zhang Tang gradually rose to stand at his level, Ji An continued to denounce them. In time, Gongsun Hong ascended to the Chancellorship and was enfeoffed as a marquis; Zhang Tang rose to the office of Imperial Secretary; and men who had once served as clerks under the Chancellor now held the same rank as Ji An—or had even surpassed him. Ji An, being a man of narrow patience, could not conceal his resentment. In an audience with the Emperor, he stepped forward and declared: 'Your Majesty employs his ministers the way one stacks firewood—the latest additions always end up on top.' The Emperor said nothing. After Ji An had withdrawn, the Emperor remarked: 'A man truly cannot afford to neglect his studies. Just look at how Ji An's remarks grow more outrageous by the day.'
12
Not long afterward, the Xiongnu King of Hunye led his people in surrender to the Han, and the court mobilized twenty thousand chariots to receive them. The government treasury was empty, so horses had to be requisitioned on credit from the common people. Some of the people hid their horses, and the required number could not be assembled. The Emperor was furious and wanted to have the Magistrate of Chang'an beheaded. Ji An said: 'The Magistrate of Chang'an bears no guilt. If you must behead someone, behead me, and the people will willingly bring out their horses. Moreover, these Xiongnu have abandoned their own lord to surrender to us. We need only pass them along from district to district at a leisurely pace—why must we throw the entire empire into turmoil, exhausting the resources of China to pamper barbarian peoples!' The Emperor made no reply. When the Hunye people arrived, more than five hundred merchants who had traded with them were convicted and sentenced to death. Ji An requested a private audience at the High Gate and said: 'When the Xiongnu attacked our frontier passes and severed the marriage alliance, China raised armies to punish them. The dead and wounded were beyond counting, and the costs ran to hundreds of millions. In my humble view, Your Majesty should have given all captured Hu people as slaves to the families of soldiers who perished in the campaigns; and distributed the spoils among them, to repay the empire for its suffering and ease the resentment of the common people. Even if that is no longer possible, now that the King of Hunye has led tens of thousands in surrender, you drain the treasury to shower them with rewards and mobilize honest citizens to wait upon and feed them—as though indulging a spoiled child. How could simple commoners have known that trading goods in Chang'an would be construed by the legal clerks as smuggling across the frontier? Your Majesty not only fails to use the wealth of the Xiongnu to repay the empire for its sufferings, but now would use petty legal technicalities to execute more than five hundred innocent people. This is the very meaning of the saying, "protecting the leaves while breaking the branches." I humbly advise Your Majesty against this course.' The Emperor said nothing and refused the request, remarking: 'It has been a long time since I last heard from Ji An, and now he is spouting nonsense once again.' Several months later, Ji An was found guilty of a minor infraction. Though an amnesty spared him punishment, he was dismissed from office. And so Ji An withdrew into retirement on his country estate.
13
Some years later, the currency was reformed with the introduction of the five-zhu coin. Counterfeiting became rampant, particularly in the Chu region. The Emperor, recognizing that Huaiyang bordered the troubled Chu region, summoned Ji An from retirement and appointed him Governor of Huaiyang. Ji An prostrated himself and repeatedly declined to accept the seal of office. Only after the Emperor insisted several times did he finally submit to the appointment. When summoned to a final audience, Ji An wept before the Emperor and said: 'I had resigned myself to dying in some ditch, never to see Your Majesty again. I never imagined you would call upon me once more. I am plagued by constant illness and lack the strength to administer an entire commandery. My wish is to serve as a Palace Gentleman, passing through the gates of the inner court, where I might help correct mistakes and fill in what has been overlooked—that is all I ask.' The Emperor replied: 'Do you think the post of Huaiyang beneath you? I have called upon you for a reason. The officials and people of Huaiyang are at odds with one another. I rely on the weight of your authority alone—govern them, even if you must do so from your sickbed.' After taking his leave, Ji An visited Li Xi, the Grand Herald, and said: 'I am being cast aside to a distant commandery, cut off from the deliberations of the court. But the Imperial Secretary Zhang Tang is clever enough to deflect any remonstrance and deceitful enough to disguise any wrong. He devotes himself to honeyed flattery and sophistic rhetoric, never willing to speak honestly for the good of the realm—he exists only to pander to the Emperor's whims. Whatever the Emperor dislikes, Zhang Tang tears down; whatever the Emperor desires, he praises to the skies. He delights in stirring up trouble and twisting the law to his purposes. Behind closed doors he employs deceit to bend the Emperor's mind; in public he enlists corrupt officials to project an air of fearsome authority. You hold a seat among the Nine Ministers—if you do not speak out soon, you will share in his downfall.' But Li Xi was afraid of Zhang Tang and never dared to speak. Ji An governed Huaiyang in his accustomed style, and the administration of the commandery became clear and well-ordered. In time, Zhang Tang did indeed meet his downfall. When the Emperor learned of what Ji An had said to Li Xi, he punished Li Xi for his failure to speak up. He ordered Ji An to continue at Huaiyang, now with the rank and salary of a Chancellor to a feudal lord. Seven years later, he passed away.
14
After his death, the Emperor, out of regard for Ji An, elevated his younger brother Ji Ren to the rank of the Nine Ministers and his son Ji Yan to the post of Chancellor to a feudal lord. Sima An, Ji An's cousin on his mother's side, had likewise served alongside him as an Attendant to the Crown Prince in their youth. Sima An was a master of legal subtleties, clever, and adept at navigating the bureaucracy. He attained the rank of the Nine Ministers four separate times and eventually died while serving as Governor of Henan. Thanks to Sima An's influence, ten of his brothers and cousins simultaneously held positions at the two-thousand-bushel rank. Duan Hong of Puyang began his career in the service of Xin, the Marquis of Gai, who placed great trust in him. Duan Hong twice rose to the rank of the Nine Ministers. And yet every official from Wei stood in awe of Ji An and acknowledged his superiority.
15
Zheng Dangshi, whose courtesy name was Zhuang, was a native of Chen. His forebear, Lord Zheng, had once served as a general under Xiang Yu; After Xiang Yu's death, the family came under the allegiance of the Han. When Emperor Gaozu ordered all former officers of Xiang Yu to register their names, Lord Zheng alone refused to comply. By imperial edict, all who had registered were appointed as Grandees, while Lord Zheng was driven into exile. Lord Zheng died during the reign of Emperor Wen.
16
Zheng Zhuang prided himself on his chivalrous spirit. He rescued Zhang Yu from peril, and his reputation spread throughout the lands of Liang and Chu. During the reign of Emperor Jing, he served as a Gentleman of the Crown Prince's Household. Whenever he was granted his five-day leave, he would station relay horses in the outskirts and ride out to call upon his old friends, receiving and bidding farewell to guests through the night until dawn, always fearing he would not have time to see them all. Zheng Zhuang was devoted to the teachings of Huang-Lao, and he sought out men of virtue with an urgency that suggested he feared he might never get the chance to meet them. Though young and of modest rank, the men he befriended were all of his grandfather's generation—men of renown throughout the realm. After Emperor Wu took the throne, Zheng Zhuang rose steadily through the ranks—serving as Commandant of Lu, Governor of Jinan, and Chancellor of Jiangdu—until he reached the Nine Ministers as Right Prefect of the Capital. In the fallout from the dispute between the Marquis of Wu'an and the Marquis of Weiqi, he was demoted to Superintendent of the Imperial Household, and later transferred to the post of Grand Director of Agriculture.
17
When Zheng Zhuang held office, he instructed his gatekeepers: 'When guests arrive, whether noble or humble, no one is to be kept waiting at the gate.' He scrupulously observed the courtesies between host and guest, humbling himself before others despite his high rank. Zheng Zhuang was scrupulously honest and gave no thought to building up his personal fortune. He relied entirely on his official salary and imperial gifts to support his circle of associates. Yet the gifts he gave were never more than simple utensils and plain food. At every court session, whenever he found a moment with the Emperor, he never failed to put in a good word for the worthy men of the realm. When he recommended scholars or his own subordinates and clerks, he spoke of them with such evident sincerity and relish that he invariably presented them as worthier than himself. He never addressed his officials by their personal names, and when speaking with subordinates, he seemed almost afraid of causing offense. Whenever he learned of a good idea from someone, he would hasten to present it to the Emperor, as though afraid of being too late. For all these reasons, the scholars and gentlemen east of the mountains spoke of Zheng Zhuang with unanimous admiration.
18
使
When Zheng Zhuang was sent on a mission to inspect a breach in the Yellow River, he requested five days to prepare for the journey. The Emperor laughed and said: 'I have heard it said that "when Zheng Zhuang travels, he needs no provisions for a thousand li." So why does he ask for time to prepare?' At court, however, Zheng Zhuang tended toward accommodation, deferring to the Emperor's wishes and never daring to press too firmly on questions of right and wrong. In his later years, the Han was waging war against the Xiongnu and seeking to win over the barbarian peoples on all four frontiers. The expenses of the realm mounted, and the treasury grew ever more depleted. Zheng Zhuang had recommended his own associates and guests to serve as contractors for the Grand Director of Agriculture, and many of them absconded with their debts. When Sima An, then serving as Governor of Huaiyang, exposed the scandal, Zheng Zhuang was convicted and reduced to the status of a commoner, allowed to pay a fine in lieu of harsher punishment. Before long, he was reappointed to serve as Acting Chief Clerk. The Emperor, considering him too old for central office, appointed him Governor of Runan. After several years, he died while still in office.
19
When Zheng Zhuang and Ji An first took their places among the Nine Ministers, both were incorruptible, with personal conduct that was upright and beyond reproach. When the two of them fell from power and their households grew poor, the guests and associates who had once flocked to them melted away. After they were sent out to govern distant commanderies and died in their posts, their families were left with nothing. Thanks to Zheng Zhuang's legacy, six or seven of his brothers, sons, and grandsons rose to the two-thousand-bushel rank.
20
The Grand Historian remarks: Even for men as worthy as Ji An and Zheng Dangshi, when they held power their guests multiplied tenfold, and when they lost it those same guests vanished. How much truer must this be for ordinary men! Master Zhai of Xiagui had a saying about this. When he first served as Commandant of Justice, guests thronged his gate; when he was dismissed from office, his doorway was so deserted that one could have strung a net across it to catch sparrows. When Master Zhai was restored to the post of Commandant of Justice and the guests came flooding back, he inscribed upon his gate: 'Only between life and death does one discover the truth of friendship. Only between poverty and wealth does one learn the nature of one's friends. Only between honor and disgrace is the truth of friendship revealed.' The same could be said of Ji An and Zheng Dangshi. How sorrowful it is!
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