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卷75 列傳第40 儒林

Volume 75 Biographies 40: Confucian Scholars

Chapter 75 of 隋書 · Book of Sui
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祿 祿 使 使 使 西 使 西 西 ' '
Confucian Scholars. The teaching of the Confucian school is vast in scope, and the good it does for the world is far-reaching. It strengthens the bond between father and son, sets ruler and minister in their proper roles, exalts loyalty and integrity, upholds benevolence and righteousness, honors integrity and modesty, and disdains greed and vulgarity. It opens the wellsprings of government and moral transformation and awakens the eyes and ears of the common people; through generations of kings who added to or trimmed away its doctrines, one unbroken thread runs throughout. Though fortunes of the age may wax and wane, this literary tradition does not perish; ordering the realm and achieving good government is never the achievement of a single age alone. Those who enter its stream grow wealthy though they hold no stipend; those who cherish its Way stand honored though they hold no rank. Thus Confucius met setbacks under the ruler of Lu, Mencius was alternately restrained and promoted under the queen mother of Qi, Xun Qing was prized in powerful Chu, and Gongsun Hong won honor in the flourishing Han. As for the countless others who lived in a bare room yet looked down on wealth and rank, or were content in humble lanes yet held kings and dukes lightly—who could number them all? After the Jin dynasty fell apart, the Central Plains were lost to chaos, the Five Barbarian peoples fought one another in succession, and the canonical texts and the Way they embodied were all but destroyed. The Wei rose from Dai in the north and secured the territory north of the Yellow River; having won the realm on horseback, they had not yet spread this teaching widely. From the Taihe era onward the court lavishly promoted literary and moral education; eminent scholars and great learning thronged the halls, and leading Confucians in scholar's robes rose to distinction again and again. In elegant exposition and profound doctrine, even Song, Qi, and Liang could not match them. North and south each had its own commentarial traditions and favored schools of interpretation, and these differed markedly from one another. South of the Yangzi, the Book of Changes followed Wang Bi, the Documents Kong Anguo, and the Zuo Commentary Du Yu. In the Yellow River and Luo heartland the Zuo Commentary followed Fu Qian, while the Documents and Book of Changes followed Zheng Xuan. For the Odes both regions took Master Mao as authority; for the Rites both alike followed the Zheng school. Broadly speaking, southerners were concise and grasped the essential brilliance, while northern scholarship was deep but overgrown and pursued every branch and leaf of the text. When one weighs their beginnings and ends and grasps what they converged upon, in establishing themselves and winning renown they arrived at the same goal by different routes. From Han and Wei times onward, leading scholars were for the most part lucid and penetrating; in more recent ages, great Confucians have tended toward coarseness and vulgarity. Whether civil and military culture endures depends on whether people carry it forward—can it be that only the present age is benighted while all past ages were wise? The matter rests solely on whether they are employed or neglected, known or ignored. Yet in former times those who aided the ruler in governing always promoted men of virtue from among great Confucians, whereas in recent times those who guide the state all recruit their officials from the ranks of clerks and scribes. Even when learning reached the highest mastery, diligence exceeded the student who pricked his thigh to stay awake, fame spread throughout the realm, and one placed first in the examinations—if fate and timing did not align, there was still no prospect of high office; and when several commanders fell from favor, one was inevitably abandoned to obscurity in the wilds. Thus scholars of old found stipend within their learning itself; scholars of today are trapped in poverty and low station. How could the clear-sighted and men of purpose willingly remain fixed in their studies only to court poverty and obscurity? This is why Confucians rarely produce truly accomplished scholars, and learning has grown coarse and vulgar. Formerly Qi lined mansions along the broad avenue and men of talent gathered thick as a forest; Yan raised the Jieshi palace and worthy men came of their own accord from far away. From this one knows that customs change only according to what those above favor; unless a sage and enlightened ruler governs the age, there is no reviving a culture in such decline. For nearly three hundred years after the realm's calendars and regnal titles ceased to be unified, competing schools of interpretation proliferated with no authoritative standard to follow. Emperor Gaozu received Heaven's mandate and took up the imperial calendar, unified the realm, cast the wide net of rule over all, honored scholars with patterned silks and ritual gifts, and offered fine offices to hold them—whereupon eager students and questioners from every corner of the empire gathered without exception. The Son of Heaven then arrayed his imperial train, led the hundred officials, performed the rites of inquiring into the Way, and observed the libation sacrifice to Confucius. Erudites poured forth eloquence like a river in flood; palace attendants plumbed the deepest teachings of the layered mat lectures; lost texts were collated and discrepancies weighed, until long-standing doubts melted away like ice in spring. Thereupon he promoted exceptional talent, richly rewarded the Confucians, and from the capital to the four quarters schoolhouses were opened everywhere. In Qi, Lu, Zhao, and Wei scholars were especially numerous; carrying book-boxes they followed teachers for a thousand li without hesitation, and the sound of lecture and recitation never ceased along the roads. The flowering of Confucian culture in the Central Provinces had not been seen in such fullness since Han and Wei times—yet it lasted only a moment. When Gaozu reached his later years his vigor waned; he lost interest in Confucian learning and favored penal law instead, and none among those who held power were sincere patrons of scholarship. During the Renshou era he abolished schools throughout the realm, retaining only the Imperial University with seventy-two students. When Emperor Yang took the throne he reopened the schools, and the Imperial University together with commandery and county schools flourished as they had at the start of the Kaihuang era. He summoned Confucian scholars from near and far, had them debate the merits and flaws of competing interpretations below the Eastern Capital, and the Director of the Palace Secretariat ranked their conclusions and reported them all to the throne. By then most of the older Confucians had died off; the two Liu scholars stood head and shoulders above the rest, mastering learning from both north and south and ranging across all antiquity and their own age—later students studied under them in awe, and none could match their depth. The exegetical commentaries they composed on the classics were adopted as authoritative by the entire scholarly elite. Then foreign campaigns against the four quarters never ceased; teachers and students drifted apart; bandits rose everywhere; ritual and righteousness could no longer restrain the worthy, nor punishments awe the base—there remained only the name of founding schools, without the reality of spreading the Way. The tradition gradually collapsed until the dynasty itself perished, and many of those scholars in square collars who walked by measured steps likewise died in ditches and gullies. From that time forward the canonical texts were all buried and lost in ashes and dust. Thus the younger generation no longer heard the words of the Odes and Documents; all harbored hearts bent on seizure and plunder, and together they fell into unrighteousness. The Commentary says: "Those who study will rise; those who do not study will fall." Thus prosperity and decline hang upon it, and rise and fall depend upon it—how can rulers of states and clans fail to be cautious! Among the Confucians were men whose bodies perished but whose teaching endured, whose lingering influence can still be imagined—their remaining writings are gathered and appended in this chapter. Yuan Shan was a native of Luoyang in Henan commandery. His grandfather Cha served as Attendant-in-Ordinary under the Wei. His father Luo was initially governor of Liang province; when Cha was executed he fled to the Liang court and rose to general who pacifies the north and governor of Qing and Ji provinces. In youth Shan followed his father south of the Yangzi; he loved learning by nature, mastered the Five Classics, and was especially expert in the Zuo Commentary. When the rebellion of Hou Jing broke out, Shan went over to Northern Zhou. Emperor Wu treated him with great respect, appointed him tutor in the heir apparent's palace, and enfeoffed him as Duke of Jiangyang. He regularly lectured on the classics for the crown prince. At the beginning of the Kaihuang era he was appointed vice director of the Imperial Secretariat; whenever the emperor saw him he would say, "The very model of human conduct." Whenever he presented memorials to the throne, his cadence rose and fell with such grace that all eyes in the hall were drawn to him. When the Chen envoy Yuan Ya came on a diplomatic mission, the emperor ordered Shan to receive his credentials at the guest lodge; Ya left the door without performing a bow. Shan argued that precedent required a bow on such occasions; Ya could not answer, performed the bow, completed the ceremony, and departed. He was later appointed chancellor of the Imperial University. The emperor once attended the libation sacrifice in person and ordered Shan to lecture on the Classic of Filial Piety. He thereupon expounded the text's principles and wove in indirect admonition of the throne. The emperor was greatly pleased and said, "Hearing the Duke of Jiangyang's lecture has stirred my heart anew." He rewarded him with a hundred bolts of silk and a suit of robes. Shan's erudition ranked below He Tuo's, yet his bearing was elegant and refined, his gestures pleasing to watch, and his voice so clear that listeners forgot fatigue—thus later students flocked to him. Tuo always nursed resentment and wished to humble Shan. When Shan was to lecture on the Spring and Autumn Annals and first announced his theme, all the Confucian scholars gathered. Shan privately said to Tuo, "My reputation is already established—please do not make things difficult for me." Tuo agreed. When they entered the lecture hall, Tuo cited knotty points of interpretation from antiquity and the present to challenge him, and Shan often could not answer. Shan deeply resented this, and from that time the two men were at odds. Shan believed Gao Jiong had the makings of a chief minister and once told the emperor, "Yang Su is crude and careless, Su Wei timid and irresolute, and Yuan Zhou and Yuan Min are no better than ducks. Only Gao Jiong can be entrusted with the altars of state." The emperor at first agreed; when Jiong fell from favor the emperor took Shan's words as lobbying on Jiong's behalf and blamed him severely. Shan grew anxious and afraid; he had long suffered from diabetes, his illness suddenly worsened, and he died at the age of sixty. Xin Yanzhi was a native of Didao in Longxi commandery. His grandfather Shixu was governor of Liang province under the Wei. His father Lingfu was governor of Hua province under Northern Zhou. Yanzhi was orphaned at nine; he kept company only with worthy men, mastered the classics and histories, and shared a passion for learning with Niu Hong of Tianshui. Later he entered the Guanzhong region and settled his household in the capital district. Emperor Taizu of Zhou recognized his talent, appointed him to the rites office of the central administration, and rewarded him with robes, horses, pearls, and jade. The state was newly founded and every institution was being established from scratch; most court nobles were military men, and Yanzhi alone was charged with revising ritual regulations. He was soon appointed vice director of the Secretariat. When Emperor Min of Zhou accepted the abdication, Yanzhi and the vice director of the imperial clan Lu Bian were put solely in charge of ritual institutions. Under Emperors Ming and Wu he held successive posts overseeing sacrifices—grand invocator, director of music, director of the four offices of imperial rectitude—and rose to grand master with golden seal and privileges equal to a three-ducal minister. On a mission to escort the Türk empress back he was rewarded with two hundred horses and enfeoffed as Duke of Longmen with a fief of one thousand households. He was soon promoted to duke of Wuyuan commandery with an additional thousand households added to his fief. When Emperor Xuan took the throne he was appointed vice director of the imperial clan. When Gaozu accepted the abdication he was appointed vice minister of imperial sacrifices, re-enfeoffed as duke of Rencheng commandery, and promoted to upper purse-opening office. He was soon transferred to chancellor of the Imperial University. After more than a year he was appointed minister of rites and, together with Niu Hong, director of the imperial library, compiled the New Rites. Shen Chong of Wuxing was famed as a leading scholar; Gaozu once had Yanzhi debate him, and Chong could not hold his ground—he rose from his seat and said, "Master Xin is a golden rampart and boiling moat; there is no point of attack." Gaozu was greatly pleased. He was later appointed governor of Sui province. At that time most provincial governors sent rare curios as tribute; Yanzhi alone sent only items for ritual sacrifice. Gaozu approved and, turning to the court, said, "How can a man do without learning! What Yanzhi presents is the fruit of studying antiquity." He was transferred to governor of Lu province, and in both posts governed with benevolence. Yanzhi also devoutly practiced Buddhism and built two fifteen-story pagodas within the city. In the eleventh year of Kaihuang a local man named Zhang Yuan died suddenly; after several days he revived and said he had wandered in Heaven and seen a newly built hall of surpassing splendor. Yuan asked the reason and was told that Xin Yanzhi, governor of Lu province, had accumulated merit and that the hall had been built to await him. When Yanzhi heard this he was displeased. That same year he died in office. He was posthumously named Xuan. Yanzhi authored six works—the *Fendian*, *Liuguan*, *Zhuwen*, *Xinyao*, *Xinli*, and *Wujing Yiyi*—all of which circulated widely. He had a son named Zhongkan, who rose to become magistrate of Yishi county. [He Tuo. Xiao Gai. Bao Kai.] He Tuo, courtesy name Qifeng, was a native of Xicheng. His father Xihu was a merchant who traveled into Shu and settled in Pixian county. He served the consort of Liang's Prince of Wuling, managed gold and silk accounts, amassed a vast fortune, and was known as the great merchant of the west. Tuo was sharp and clever from childhood. At eight he entered the Imperial Academy, where Assistant Instructor Gu Liang teased him: "Your surname is He—is that the he of lotus leaf, or the he of river water? Tuo replied without hesitation: "Sir, your surname is Gu—is that the gu of 'to look upon fondly,' or the gu of 'old and new'?" Everyone present was astonished. At seventeen he entered the service of the Prince of Xiangdong through his talents; when the prince recognized his intelligence, he was made a recitation attendant at the prince's side. Xiao Gai of Lanling was also a man of outstanding talent; he lived on Qingyang Lane while Tuo lived at Baiyangtou, and people said: "The age boasts two brilliant minds—He Tuo of Baiyangtou, Xiao Gai of Qingyang Lane. Such was the esteem in which he was held. After the fall of Jiangling, Emperor Wu of Zhou held him in special regard and appointed him Erudite of the Grand Academy. Early in Emperor Xuan's reign, when he proposed establishing five empresses, he consulted the Confucian scholar Xin Yanzhi, who answered: "An empress shares the Son of Heaven's dignity as his equal in rank—it is not fitting to have five. Tuo objected: "Emperor Ku had four consorts, and Shun had two—what fixed number is there?" For this he was enfeoffed as Baron of Xiangcheng county. When Gaozu accepted the throne, Tuo was appointed Erudite of the National University, made Tongzhi Attendant-in-Ordinary of the Sanqi Section, and promoted to duke. Tuo was stern and quick-tempered by nature, eloquent of tongue, and fond of finding fault with others. At the time Palace Aide Su Wei once told the emperor: "My forebear often warned me that a single volume of the *Classic of Filial Piety* is enough to conduct oneself and govern the realm—what need for more? The emperor agreed. Tuo spoke up: "Su Wei's learning extends far beyond the *Classic of Filial Piety*. If his father truly spoke thus and Wei failed to follow that teaching, he is unfilial. If no such words were ever spoken, then telling Your Majesty so to his face is deceit. Neither sincere nor filial—how can such a man serve his sovereign! Moreover the Master said: "Without studying the *Odes*, one has nothing to say; without studying the *Rites*, one has no firm footing." Can Su Chuo alone, in instructing his son, presume to contradict the sage's teaching? Su Wei at the time held five concurrent posts, and the emperor held him in close regard; Tuo thereupon submitted a memorial declaring Wei unworthy of trust. He also charged that Wei, though charged with astronomy and the regulation of pitch, was incompetent in both, and submitted an eight-point memorial of remonstrance:
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The first point reads: I have heard that to know men is wisdom, yet this is what the emperor alone finds difficult. Confucius said: "Promote the upright and set them above the crooked, and the people will be compliant; promote the crooked and set them above the upright, and the people will not comply. From this it follows that whether government is well or ill ordered depends entirely on whom one appoints; thus those who advance the worthy earn the highest reward, while those who conceal talent face conspicuous punishment. Today, however, the practice of promotion differs sharply: no distinction is made between flatterers and upright men, worthy talent and mediocrity. If one aspires to rise quickly, one starts out in a spokesman's post; if one must be held down, one ends a white-haired clerk in some minor bureau. The people's resentment stems precisely from this. I have heard that conferring rank is done at court, shared with the nobility, while inflicting punishment is done in the marketplace, abandoned to public contempt. I observe that Your Majesty attends carefully to the courts, loving the people as a father loves his children; before rendering judgment you always consult your ministers, and punishment is never meted out arbitrarily—this is the mark of a wise sovereign. If punishment is handled thus, the conferring of rank should follow the same principle. When someone of outstanding merit has already won Your Majesty's notice, he may be promoted directly. For all lesser appointments, important posts must be filled only after consultation with many voices—never on the recommendation of a single individual; Then there will be no favoritism above and no resentment below.
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The second point reads: Confucius said: "If one scrutinizes factions and cliques, then wrongdoing cannot be hidden. He also said: "The gentleman is inclusive without forming cliques; the petty man forms cliques without being truly inclusive." What is meant by forming factions is precisely this cliquish behavior. Those whom one favors, though already glittering in rank and honor, are promoted still further; while those one despises, though already sunk in obscurity and humiliation, are provoked to anger at the slightest remark. Once such favoritism takes hold, mutual concealment follows, and the will to deceive one's superiors emerges; once humiliation is piled on, resentment grows and slander spreads. I pray that Your Majesty will cast a wide net in inquiry and not let the path of faction remain open, with power and favor exercised at one's own discretion. For a state, there is no affliction greater than this.
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The third point reads: I have heard that Shun elevated sixteen clans—the so-called Eight Worthies and Eight Good Men. Even though their worth exceeded anything we know today, Shun still selected the best talent for each post without overlapping appointments—and so the four quarters lived in harmony and every task flourished. Today there are vast numbers of official posts but very few men appointed to them; one person often holds several concurrent posts—is it because the state lacks talent? Or because the men appointed are simply not up to the work? In a great realm of ten thousand chariots, outstanding men are hardly scarce; yet even the wise and perceptive have no path to advance on their own. Dongfang Shuo said: "Treat a man with honor and he becomes a general; treat him with contempt and he becomes a captive. How true those words are. Today's officeholders do not measure their own virtue and capacity; lacking the ability of Lü Wang or Fu Yue, they nevertheless assume the destiny of men discovered at Fu Yan or Zishui. They give no thought to the weight of responsibility that comes with high office, worrying only that their portfolio is not large enough. Content with such favor, they treat the levers of power lightly—and disaster follows. This is the root cause. The *Book of Changes* says: "The cauldron's legs snap, spilling the lord's feast; its form is disgraced—this is misfortune. This means being unequal to one's duties. I have heard that one who strains every muscle to lift a weight too heavy for him is fit for no task at all. I pray that Your Majesty will appoint worthy men afresh, divide responsibilities according to talent, and give each man room to spare in his duties—then all affairs would prosper.
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The fourth point reads: I have heard the *Rites* declare: "Those who split hairs to break the law, disturb established names with reckless innovation, and practice heterodox ways to throw government into chaos—such men are to be put to death. Confucius said: "Keep to the old ways—why must everything be reinvented?" I observe that in recent years the innovators have grown numerous. Fan Wei's clepsydra took ten years and still was not finished; Zhao Yi's standard foot-measure and scale required seven years before a decision was reached. Gongsun Ji's obscure and far-fetched medical prescriptions cost more than ten thousand; Xu Daoqing's convoluted calendrical revisions wasted vast amounts of grain. Chang Ming's violations of statute dragged on for years; Wang Wo's reckless renaming knew no bounds. Zhang Shanju, ignorant of the stars, had already trampled the office of the Grand Master of Ceremonies; Cao Weizu, who could not even identify the North Star, now crushes the office of the Grand Astrologer as well. All employ their shallow insights, then boast and flatter, chase after renown, and grossly deceive one another. I ask that from this day forward, anyone who submits such proposals and fails to deliver on them face heavy punishment, so that men will fear to offer reckless and ill-considered memorials.
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The remainder of the memorial is omitted here for brevity. Su Wei at the time held authority across several departments; he had once concealed his origins in Wugong, and Tuo's allusion to Fu Yan and Zishui was meant to rouse the emperor's suspicions. When the memorial reached the throne, Su Wei harbored deep resentment. In the twelfth year, when Su Wei conducted the literary examination, he and Tuo traded insults once again. Su Wei flared up: "Without He Tuo, I hardly need worry about finding an erudite! Tuo shot back: "Without Su Wei, why worry about lacking someone to run affairs!" From that point he and Su Wei were at odds. Later the emperor ordered Tuo to examine and fix the bells and pitch pipes, and Tuo submitted another memorial:
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I have heard that where civilization shines, rites and music flourish; in the hidden depths dwell spirits and ghosts—and nothing moves Heaven and earth or touches the spirit world more powerfully than rites and music. It is also said that when music is perfected, resentment fades; when rites are perfected, contention ceases. To govern the realm through courtesy and deference—that is the power of rites and music. I have heard that music divides into two kinds: licentious sounds and correct sounds. Licentious sounds move the human heart and perverse vital forces respond; those forces take form and decadent music rises from them. Correct sounds move the human heart and harmonious vital forces respond; those forces take form and proper music rises from them. When proper music prevails, human relations are clarified, the senses grow keen, the body's vital forces find balance, customs improve, and all under Heaven lives in peace. Confucius said: "Banish the music of Zheng and keep flatterers at a distance. When the music of Zheng, Wei, Song, and Zhao spreads, it breeds illness within and harm without. When the gong mode falls into disorder, the realm grows wasteful and the ruler arrogant; when the shang mode falls into disorder, government grows corrupt and offices collapse; when the jue mode falls into disorder, grief spreads and the people grow resentful; when the zhi mode falls into disorder, mourning prevails and affairs grow burdensome; when the yu mode falls into disorder, danger mounts and coffers run dry. When all five modes fall into disorder together, the state's downfall is imminent. Marquis Wen of Wei asked Zixia: "When I attend in full ceremonial dress to ancient music, I grow drowsy; when I listen to the music of Zheng and Wei, I never grow tired—why? Zixia answered: "Ancient music opens with civil refinement and closes with martial vigor—it cultivates the self, extends to the family, and brings balance to the realm. The music of Zheng and Wei is licentious sound bred for chaos—an intoxication that never ends, tangling men and women together until father and son are scarcely distinguishable. What you ask about is music, my lord—but what you love is mere sound. Music and mere sound are close kin yet not the same; a ruler must carefully discern what he favors and what he rejects." Consider how the sages made music: it was never meant merely to tickle the ears and eyes. They meant that in the ancestral temple, when ruler and ministers heard it together, all would be bound in mutual reverence; in the village, when old and young heard it together, all would live in easy harmony; within the household, when father and son heard it together, affection would bind them as one. Such was the way the ancient kings established music. Those who perceive sound but not musical tone are no better than beasts; those who grasp tone but not music are the common crowd. Even children can dance to the yellow bell and great lü, to string songs and shield-and-axe dances. Only the gentleman truly understands music! Speak of tone to one who knows no sound and you waste your breath; speak of music to one who knows no tone and you waste your breath—but to know music is to stand near the Way itself. When King Zhou abandoned the Way, the Grand Music Master fled to the Zhou court with the ritual instruments in his arms. The Duke of Jin's virtue ran thin, and Music Master Kuang steadfastly refused to release the pure zhi mode.
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調 調 調 殿
In earliest times there was no formal music at all—people simply patted full bellies and beat the earth, and happiness lived in that. The Book of Changes says: "The ancient kings made music to magnify virtue, and in the fullness of their rites offered it to the Supreme Lord to honor their ancestors. The Yellow Emperor composed "Xianchi," Zhuanxu "Liujing," Emperor Ku "Wuying," Yao "Dazhang," Shun "Dashao," Yu "Daxia," Tang "Dahu," and King Wu "Dawu"—but from Xia onward the ages have grown so distant that only the titles survive; their music can no longer be heard. From the Yin through the Zhou, music was fully preserved in the Odes and Hymns. From sages and worthies downward, many mastered music: Fuxi reduced the se's strings, King Wen added strings to the qin, Confucius struck the chime-stones, Zilu played the se, Gaozu of Han beat the zhu, and Emperor Yuan played the xiao. In the early years of Emperor Gaozu of Han, Shusun Tong drew on Qin court musicians to compose the ancestral temple music. At the temple gate, to welcome the spirits, they played "Jiazhi"—the modern counterpart of the ancient music for the descent of the spirits. When the emperor entered the temple gate, they played "Yongzhi" to mark the pace of his steps—the counterpart of the ancient "Caixi" and "Sixia." When dried meats and beans were presented, they sang "Dengge"—the counterpart of the ancient hymn of the Pure Temple. After "Dengge" had been sung twice, they played "Xiucheng" to celebrate the spirits' acceptance of the offering. When the emperor took his seat in the east wing, they played "Yong'an" to celebrate the rite's completion. The two pieces "Xiucheng" and "Yongzhi" were Shusun Tong's own compositions. At Gaozu's temple they danced "Wude," "Wenshi," and "Wuxing." In Spring and Autumn times Prince Wan of Chen fled to Qi; as Chen was descended from Shun, Qi preserved the "Shao" music—when Confucius heard it in Qi and forgot the taste of meat for three months, it was this music he heard. When the First Emperor of Qin conquered Qi, he seized Qi's "Shao" music. When Gaozu overthrew Qin, "Shao" passed to Han; he renamed it "Wenshi" to show he was not merely inheriting the old order. The "Wuxing Dance" was originally Zhou's "Dawu" music; the First Emperor retitled it "Wuxing." Under Emperor Wen the dances of the four seasons were restored, proclaiming that the realm was at peace and the seasons ran true. Emperor Jing reworked the "Wude Dance" into "Zhaode," and Emperor Xuan reworked "Zhaode" into "Shengde"—the titles changed, but all essentially followed Qin precedent. Under Wei and Jin alike, the court still employed the ancient music. The three founding emperors of Wei all composed lyrics for court music. After the Yongjia upheaval overturned the five capitals, musical traditions fled south—and so the lands east of the Yangtze came to preserve them in full. From Song and Qi through the Liang, the music performed at court still transmitted the ancient rites—the Three Yong and Four Beginnings marked a true golden age. When Hou Jing rebelled, court musicians scattered, and the four dances and three modes all passed into the hands of the puppet Qi regime. The Qi court knew how to preserve and pass them on, yet though it possessed the pieces, it never performed them in the ancestral temple or at court. Your subject has loved music and pitch since youth and kept close watch over strings and pipes; though I am now old, I remember them fairly well. When the eastern lands were pacified, the musicians all returned; on inquiry it proved that they had indeed been taught by men of Liang. Today there are still masters of the three modes and four dances; though not perfectly skilled, they preserve much of the refined court sound. If they were taught and handed down, the ancient music might yet survive. Then, gathering their essential principles and distilling their core points, one could follow precedent while refining them and bestowing new worthy titles. To sing the present age's flourishing virtue and pass refined orthodoxy to later generations—what could be finer! I respectfully submit a full list of the three modes and four dances, with song texts composed separately as an appendix. Pieces whose melodies are too unrestrained for presentation in the imperial hall are also appended at the end.
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When the memorial was submitted, a separate edict ordered the Director of Ceremonial to follow Tuo's plan. Thereupon the three modes qing, ping, and se were established, together with the eight-row dance and the four dances Bian, Duo, Jin, and Fu. Previously, in the ancestral temple music preserved by the Director of Ceremonial, the court had for decades used only the great lü and abandoned the yellow bell. Tuo considered this a grave departure from ancient practice and memorialized requesting restoration of the yellow bell. An edict was sent down for deliberation among the high officials, and they assented. Soon afterward Tuo's son Wei, serving as a secretary, was guilty of a capital offense; the emperor took pity on him and commuted the death sentence. After that, imperial favor toward him gradually waned. In the sixth year he was posted out as prefect of Longzhou. When traveling scholars arrived with book bundles, Tuo lectured and taught them all. He wrote an "Admonition for a Prefect" and had it inscribed outside the prefectural gate. After three years in office he asked to return home on account of illness, and the emperor granted his request. He again took charge of academic affairs. At that time the emperor had Su Kui serve under the Director of Ceremonial to deliberate on bells and pitch standards. When Kui put forward proposals, most court officials sided with him; Tuo alone dissented and often criticized Kui's faults. Emperor Gaozu circulated Kui's proposal for debate, and most court officials turned against Tuo. Tuo again submitted a sealed memorial setting forth what should be kept and what discarded in current policy, and denouncing the factions of the day. Thereupon Su Wei, Minister of Personnel Lu Kai, Vice-Minister Xue Daoheng, and others were all punished on account of it. He was appointed prefect of Yizhou but declined to go; soon afterward he was made Director of the Imperial Academy. He died in office. He was posthumously titled Su ("Solemn"). He authored Commentaries on the Zhou Changes in thirteen scrolls, Exegesis of the Classic of Filial Piety in three scrolls, and Exegesis of the Zhuangzi in four scrolls; with Shen Chong and others he compiled Great Themes on Thirty-Six Categories of Spirit Manifestations in nine scrolls; one scroll each on the Feng and Shan sacrifices and on the essentials of music; and ten scrolls of collected writings—all of which circulated widely.
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Xiao Gai of Lanling was a grandson of Xiao Hui, Prince of Poyang of Liang. In youth he was enfeoffed as Marquis of You. When Liang's Jingzhou fell, he fled to Chang'an together with He Tuo. Deeply devoted to learning by nature, he grasped the broad meaning of the Odes, Documents, Spring and Autumn, and Record of Rites, and was especially expert in the Book of Han; the high nobility held him in great esteem. At the start of the Kaihuang reign he was granted the title Duke of Shanyin County and appointed an erudite of the Imperial Academy. By imperial order he and Tuo were charged with fixing the classics and histories, but each clung to his own views and contradicted the other; after long delay with no result, the emperor rebuked them and called the project off. Gai later compiled phonological glosses on the Book of Han and the Wen Xuan, both highly prized in his day.
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便 便 '' 殿
Bao Kai of Donghai, courtesy name Hele. His elder brother Yu was expert in the Five Classics, and Kai fully inherited his learning. He also studied the Records of the Grand Historian and the Book of Han under Wang Zhongtong, and was especially renowned for his thorough mastery. During the Daye reign he served as an assistant instructor at the Imperial Academy. At that time scholars of the Book of Han looked to Xiao and Bao as the leading masters of the field. He gathered disciples to teach, with registered students numbering in the thousands; when he died, his disciples raised his tomb and set up a stele. Fang Huiyuan. Fang Huiyuan, courtesy name Chongru, was a native of Zhending in Hengshan. Confucian learning had been handed down in his family for generations. From youth Huiyuan had strong moral resolve; he studied the Three Rites, the Three Commentaries on the Spring and Autumn, the Odes, Documents, and Zhou Changes, and was also versed in apocryphal cosmology—teaching was his lifelong calling. Students who came from afar with book bundles numbered in the thousands. When Chuo, Prince of Nanyang of Northern Qi, served as prefect of Dingzhou, he heard of Huiyuan's reputation and summoned him as an erudite. When Emperor Wu of Zhou conquered Qi and sought out Confucian talent, Huiyuan was the first to answer the summons and was appointed a lower gentleman of the Minor Learning. When Gaozu ascended the throne, Huiyuan was promoted to erudite under the Director of Ceremonial. Director of Ceremonial Niu Hong often called him a living treasury of the Five Classics. Minister of Personnel Wei Shikang recommended him, and he was appointed an erudite of the Imperial University. Soon afterward he joined Duke of Pei Zheng Yi in revising the ceremonial music. When his mother died, he resigned his office to observe mourning. Several years later he was appointed General for Punishing Bandits and again served as an erudite under the Director of Ceremonial. Before long he was promoted to erudite of the Imperial Academy. It happened that the emperor ordered all academy students who had mastered one classic to be recommended for selection and promotion. After the written examination was finished, the erudites could not promptly decide who had passed or failed. Director Yuan Shan found this strange and questioned him; Huiyuan said: "South of the Yangtze and north of the Yellow River follow different exegetical conventions, and the erudites cannot master them all. Each student seized on others' weaknesses and praised his own strengths; each erudite was left in doubt—hence the long delay in reaching a verdict. The Director then had Huiyuan assess and decide the cases; Huiyuan read through the papers and wrote his verdicts at once, without a moment's hesitation. When any student objected, Huiyuan asked which commentary tradition he followed and would recite it from beginning to end, then expose his errors—after which none dared conceal his faults. For four or five hundred candidates, the verdicts were settled within days; every scholar praised his breadth of learning, each admitting he could not fathom his depth. Soon afterward he received an imperial order to take part in compiling statutes and ordinances. Emperor Gaozu once asked his assembled ministers: "Since antiquity, have emperors ever kept female musicians? From Yang Su on down, no one knew how to reply, and they all said there were no female musicians. Huiyuan stepped forward and said: "Your servant has heard, 'The fair and modest maiden—bells and drums rejoice her'—this is the music a ruler keeps within his chambers, recorded in the Hymns and Eulogies; one cannot say there were none. Emperor Gaozu was greatly pleased. During the Renshou era he died in office at the age of seventy-two; the court mourned his loss, sent lavish funeral gifts, and posthumously invested him as Supernumerary Regular Attendant of the Cavalry. Ma Guang, styled Rongbo, was a native of Wu'an. From youth he loved learning; he studied under teachers for decades without rest day or night, and thoroughly read books, charts, and apocryphal texts; he was especially versed in the Three Rites and was revered by Confucian scholars. In the early Kaihuang era, Gaozu summoned righteous scholars from east of the mountains; Guang arrived together with Zhang Zhongrang, Kong Long, Dou Shirong, Zhang Heinu, Liu Zuren, and others, and they were all appointed erudites of the Imperial University—the age called them the Six Confucians. Yet they were all crude and uncouth, lacking proper bearing, and the court did not regard them highly. Shirong soon died of illness. Before long Zhongrang asked leave to return home, wrote a ten-scroll book, and declared that if it were submitted to the throne, he would surely become chief minister. He also repeatedly spoke of celestial omens and portents. The prefecture and county submitted reports on his conduct, and in the end he was executed for it. Before long Kong Long, Zhang Heinu, and Liu Zuren were also dismissed in disgrace. Only Guang remained. Once, at the Confucian sacrificial rite, Gaozu personally visited the Imperial Academy, and princes, dukes, and all ranks below them gathered. Guang ascended the lectern to expound ritual, opening passages and illuminating their meaning. Then more than ten Confucian students, all eminent scholars of the day, took turns debating with him; Guang resolved every doubt and difficulty. Though his speech was not brilliantly polished, his reasoning was broad and profound; none could plumb the full depth of his learning, and all deferred to him; the emperor praised and rewarded him. Among Three Rites scholars east of the mountains, after Xiong Ansheng only Guang was revered. At first he taught in the Ying and Bo region with disciples numbering in the thousands; by then many followed him to Chang'an with book bundles on their backs. Several years later, when his mother died he returned home to observe mourning and resolved to spend his remaining days there. He died of illness at home at the age of seventy-three. Liu Chuo, styled Shiyuan, was a native of Changting in Xindu. His father He served as merit clerk of the commandery. Chuo had a prominent brow and a broad back; his gaze was elevated and far-reaching; he was clever, keen, and profoundly thoughtful; as a child he had no taste for play. In youth he formed a sworn friendship with Liu Xuan of Hejian; together they studied the Odes under Liu Guisi of the same commandery, the Zuo Commentary under Guo Maochang of Guangping, and inquired into the Rites under Xiong Ansheng of Fucheng—but left each without finishing. Liu Zhihai of Jiaojin Bridge in Wuqiang kept many ancient texts in his home; Chuo and Xuan went there to study and spent ten years immersed in the classics; though they often lacked food and clothing, they remained entirely content. He thereby became renowned for Confucian learning and was appointed provincial erudite. Prefect Zhao Kai summoned him as an aide, recommended him as an Outstanding Talent, and he placed in Grade A on the civil examination. Together with Wang Shao, Gentleman of the Secretariat for Compilation, he revised the dynastic history; he also participated in deliberations on law and the calendar, and was attached to the Chancellery to await imperial consultation. Soon he was appointed supernumerary general. Later he joined various Confucian scholars at the Secretariat Library in examining and establishing the meaning of classical texts. While on leave in his home district, Magistrate Wei Zhiye summoned him as merit clerk. Soon he returned to the capital and at the Imperial Academy debated with Left Vice-Director Yang Su, Minister of Personnel Niu Hong, Academy Directors Su Wei and Yuan Shan, erudites Xiao Gai and He Tuo, Imperial University erudites Fang Huiyuan and Cui Zongde, Literature Aide to the Prince of Jin Cui Yi, and others on obscure passages of past and present that earlier masters had not resolved. Each time he took the floor, debate flared fiercely, yet none could refute him; Yang Su and the others all marveled at his profound erudition. In the sixth year, when the Stone Classics from Luoyang were transported to the capital with their characters worn away beyond legibility, he received an imperial order to examine and establish their text together with Liu Xuan and others. Later, at the Imperial Academy Confucian rite, he and Xuan debated doctrine together and thoroughly humbled the other scholars; all were consumed with envy, and he was slandered by anonymous memorial and stripped of office to commoner status. Thereupon he lived at ease in his home district, devoting himself solely to teaching and writing without rest. On the commentarial traditions of Jia, Ma, Wang, and Zheng, he frequently took sides, affirming some passages and rejecting others. Among more than ten works including the Nine Chapters on Mathematical Procedures, the Zhou Bi, and the Seven Luminaries Calendar Texts, whether calculating the courses of sun and moon or measuring mountains and seas, he verified every fundamental principle and pursued every hidden subtlety. He authored Verification of the Ultimate in ten scrolls, Calendar Book in ten scrolls, and Discussions on the Five Classics—all of which circulated widely. Liu Xuan was brilliant and broadly learned; his reputation was second only to Chuo's, and men of the time called them the Two Lius. Famed Confucian masters and rising students from across the realm came to question him and receive instruction; those who traveled a thousand li or more were beyond counting. Commentators held that for several hundred years no broadly learned Confucian had surpassed him. Yet he was narrow in temperament and stingy with money; those who did not bring the customary teacher's gift never received instruction, and for this men of the time thought less of him. Deposed Crown Prince Yong heard of him and summoned him; before he could present himself at court, an edict ordered him to serve the Prince of Shu—which did not suit him, and for a long time he failed to go. The prince heard of this and was furious; he sent men to shackle him and transport him to Shu, assigning him to military guard duty. Later he was put in charge of collating books. When the prince was deposed for his crimes, Chuo again joined the Confucian scholars in revising rites and law and was appointed Cloud Cavalry Commandant. When Emperor Yang ascended the throne, he was transferred to erudite of the Imperial University; soon he resigned due to illness. Several years later he was again summoned for imperial consultation; he submitted his Calendar Book, which differed greatly from that of Director of Astronomy Zhang Zhouxuan, and was rejected. He died in the sixth year of Daye at the age of sixty-seven. Liu Xuan petitioned for a posthumous title for him, but the court refused. Liu Xuan, styled Guangbo, was a native of Jingcheng in Hejian. From youth he was praised for brilliance; with Liu Chuo of Xindu he shut himself indoors to study and did not go out for ten years. Xuan's eyes were sharp and clear; he could gaze at the sun without being dazzled; his memory was unrivaled. He could draw a square with his left hand and a circle with his right, recite aloud, count with his eyes, and listen with his ears—all five tasks at once, without missing anything. When Emperor Wu of Zhou conquered Qi, Yingzhou Prefect Yuwen Kang summoned him as an aide in the Household Bureau. Later Prefect Li Hui appointed him aide in the Rites Bureau, and he became known for his administrative ability. After more than a year, he received an imperial order to join Wang Shao, Gentleman of the Secretariat for Compilation, in revising the dynastic history. Soon he was attached to the Chancellery to await imperial consultation. He also joined various specialists in revising astronomy, law, and the calendar, and concurrently examined and established classical texts at the Imperial Secretariat; Secretariat Director Li Delin of Boling treated him with great respect. Though Xuan served on attachment across all three central departments, he never received an official appointment; the county authorities pressed him for tax and corvée obligations. Xuan presented his case to the Imperial Secretariat, which referred him to the Ministry of Personnel; Minister Wei Shikang asked what he was capable of. Xuan submitted a written statement saying: "The Zhou Rites, Record of Rites, Mao Odes, Documents, Gongyang Commentary, Zuo Commentary, Classic of Filial Piety, and Analects—the commentaries of Kong, Zheng, Wang, He, Fu, Du, and others, thirteen traditions in all—though varying in refinement, are all fit for me to lecture on. I have devoted somewhat less effort to the Zhou Changes, Ceremonial Rites, and Guliang Commentary. Historical, philosophical, and collected writings—fine words and fine deeds—I have memorized them all. In astronomy, law, and the calendar, I have pursued every subtle point to its root. As for drafting official or private documents, I have never needed anyone else's help. The Ministry of Personnel never tested him in detail, but more than ten renowned men at court vouched that Xuan's claims were accurate, and he was appointed Palace Interior General.
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使
At the time Niu Hong memorialized requesting that lost books be sought and purchased throughout the realm; Xuan forged more than a hundred scrolls under titles such as Linked Mountains Changes and Records of the State of Lu, submitted them to the authorities, collected the reward, and left. Later someone exposed him; he was spared death through amnesty but stripped of office and sent home, devoting himself to teaching. Crown Prince Yong heard of him and summoned him; once he reached the capital, an edict ordered him to serve Prince of Shu Xiu, but he delayed and refused to go. The Prince of Shu was furious and had him shackled and sent to Yizhou. He was then assigned as a tent guard and made to stand at the gate holding a staff. Soon he was released and put in charge of collating books and histories. Xuan then modeled himself on Qu Yuan's Divining the Dwelling Place and composed Divining the Road to express his own plight.
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祿
When the Prince of Shu was deposed, he joined the Confucian scholars in revising the Five Rites and was appointed Traveling Cavalry Commandant. Minister of Personnel Niu Hong proposed that, according to ritual, feudal lords cut off collateral mourning at one remove, and grand masters reduce mourning obligations by one grade. Today's Superior Pillar of the State, though not identical to the feudal lords of old, is comparable to a grand master; as a second-rank official, mourning for collateral relatives should be reduced by one grade. Most of those debating agreed. Xuan rebutted, saying: "In antiquity only one man from a lineage held office; secondary sons could not advance. Hence the former kings emphasized the legitimate heir; the lineage head had the principle of shared stipends. Clansmen and the lineage head, though distant in kinship, still wore hemp mourning for three months—because they benefited from his bounty. Today's office-holders rise by talent, without regard to heir or secondary son—already unlike antiquity; why should mourning be reduced? Today's high officials mostly neglect close kin; if mourning were reduced, the loosening of popular virtue would begin here. Thereupon the proposal was dropped. In the twentieth year of Kaihuang, the Four Gates of the Imperial Academy and the prefectural and county schools were abolished; only two Imperial University erudites and seventy-two students were retained. Xuan submitted a memorial arguing that schools should not be abolished; his reasoning was urgent and compelling, but Gaozu did not accept it. At the end of the Kaihuang era, the state was prosperous, and court and countryside alike turned their thoughts to Liaodong. Xuan believed Liaodong could not be conquered; he composed On Pacifying the Barbarians to admonish the court, but at the time no one understood. By the end of the Daye era, after three campaigns had failed, Xuan's warning was vindicated.
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When Emperor Yang ascended the throne, Niu Hong brought Xuan in to revise statutes and ordinances. During Gaozu's reign, because clerk-scribes were mostly petty men, long years in office bred corruption—the force of circumstance made it so. Also because customs had declined and women lacked restraint. Standards were therefore established: prefectural and county sub-clerks were replaced every three years, and wives of ninth-rank officials were forbidden to remarry. Xuan wrote an essay arguing the policy was wrong, but Niu Hong implemented it anyway. The establishment of school officers in all commanderies and the provision of grain rations to externally enrolled students both originated with Xuan. Hong once asked Xuan casually: "According to the Zhou Rites, gentlemen were many and archive clerks few; today order clerks outnumber those of old a hundredfold, yet reducing case officers would leave work undone—why is this? Xuan replied: "The ancients entrusted responsibility and demanded results; at year's end they examined performance; cases were not double-checked and documents were not elaborate—the job of archive clerks was merely to maintain key records. Past and present differ to this degree—government grows burdensome and corrupt because of this. Hong asked again: "Under Wei and Qi, order clerks enjoyed ample leisure; today they scarcely have a moment's peace—what accounts for this? Xuan replied: "The Qi state established only a few dozen provinces; the three central offices and mobile regional headquarters supervised one another in turn, and downward documents ran no more than ten items at a time. Today there are three hundred provinces—that is the first source of the burden. Formerly each province had only an inspector-general, each commandery a prefect and assistant, and each county a magistrate and nothing more. Each chief officer recruited his own staff; upon receiving an imperial summons they took up their posts—and a province had no more than a few dozen officials. Today it is otherwise: every office, high or low, is appointed by the Ministry of Personnel, and even the smallest conduct is subject to the Directorate of Evaluations—that is the second source of the burden. Reducing staff is inferior to reducing business; reducing business is inferior to clearing the mind. If government business is not cut back, how can one expect officials to have any leisure? Hong greatly approved what Xuan said but had no power to carry it out. Ministerial Counsellor Yang Da recommended Xuan for his broad learning and literary gifts; he placed at the top of the examination field and was appointed an erudite of the Imperial University. After little more than a year he left office because his rank was too low; when he returned to Changping an imperial summons ordered him to proceed to the emperor's traveling residence. Some accused him of misconduct; the emperor dismissed him, and he returned to Hejian. At that time bandits rose everywhere like bees; grain prices soared; the Way of the classics fell silent, and instruction ceased. Xuan was a hundred li from his wife and children; word between them was cut off; depressed and thwarted in his ambitions, he wrote a preface about himself, saying:
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使 退
Men of discernment such as Sima Xiangru, Yang Ziyun, Ma Jichang, and Zheng Kangcheng all wrote their own accounts of noble conduct, leaving their fragrance to later generations. How dare I presume to measure myself against those who came before and invite laughter from my peers? But as the sun sinks toward the mulberry trees and my allotted span draws near, old friends drift away and disciples scatter like rain; I may die as suddenly as morning dew and leave my soul buried in the northern wilds, with kin unable to read my heart and posterity unable to see my traces—while my breath still holds, I speak briefly from my inmost breast, leave this on my journey, and show it within the commandery, so that future worthy men may know my humble intent. From childhood until white-haired age, as an infant I was indulged by a loving parent and never felt the rod; in study I was esteemed by an enlightened teacher and never knew the mulberry switch. When it came to treating kinsmen with warmth, befriending equals, valuing things above self, and putting others before oneself— long ago in youth I delighted in the company of my elders; reaching old age, I often received the young. In study I never grew weary of learning; in teaching I toiled without fatigue; my hidden feelings found little satisfaction, and my heart's wishes met with constant opposition. Looking inward over my life from beginning to end, I find four great blessings and one deep regret. By nature I was dull and my family poor; indulged by father and elder brothers, I took the lowest place among the girdled and sashed and thus came to read broadly in the classics and glimpse past and present; small virtues were noted in my garden retreat, empty fame was heard in the state—that is the first blessing. Hidden and manifest in the human world, sinking and floating in worldly affairs, I repeatedly held thankless posts and long kept the convict-register books; my name never appeared on the censor's white bamboo, my deeds were never touched by the red brush; in conduct and standing I had much to blush for, yet in life and limb I might almost escape harm—that is the second blessing. With such mediocrity I repeatedly moved divine favor; with such low rank I repeatedly entered the imperial precincts; I matched reins with fine steeds and flew wing to wing with imperial birds; I arranged silk scrolls in the Phoenix Pool and recorded words and deeds in the Unicorn Pavilion; I attended chief ministers and called upon the great lords—rich gifts and special grace increased my honor and changed my worth—that is the third blessing. The day measure was nearly spent and great old age already lamented; I withdrew to my former garb and returned my bones to my native place; I enjoyed literature and history to soothe the spirit, watched fish and birds to scatter cares, observed wild things and climbed garden ponds, took slow steps in place of carriage, and held innocence dear—that is the fourth blessing. Looking up at a glorious flourishing age, I grieved that the Way of teaching had declined; treading the abandoned tracks of earlier Confucians, I mourned the overgrown filth of many words; I raced through the tombs of the classics, corrected eccentric errors, and had just finished my editorial work when the enterprise was nearly complete—heaven opposed human wishes, and the path would not grant me passage. The age's road was not yet level; schools were utterly abandoned; the Way was not perfected in its time, and the work would not be transmitted after death. To carry regret into the grave—is it not found here? That is the one deep regret.
16
At the time he was in the commandery city; grain supplies were cut off; many of his disciples had joined the bandits; pitying Xuan's poverty and destitution, they came beneath the commandery walls to demand Xuan, and the commandery officials released him to them. Xuan was led away by the bandits and passed the fort below the city. Before long the bandits were broken by the government army; Xuan, hungry and with nowhere to turn, again sought refuge in the county city. The chief officer thought Xuan was acquainted with the bandits and feared future trouble, so he closed the gates and refused to admit him. At that time the night was icy cold; because of this he died of cold and hunger at the age of sixty-eight. Afterward his disciples gave him the posthumous title Master Xuande.
17
Xuan's nature was restless and contentious; he was quite given to jest and banter, often praised himself, and liked to slight and insult men of the age; he was detested by those in power, and hence his official career did not succeed. He wrote Expositions on the Analects in ten scrolls, Attacking Obscurity in the Spring and Autumn in ten scrolls, Correct Names of the Five Classics in twelve scrolls, Expositions on the Classic of Filial Piety in five scrolls, Expositions on the Spring and Autumn in forty scrolls, Expositions on the Documents in twenty scrolls, Expositions on the Mao Odes in forty scrolls, Commentary on the Preface to the Odes in one scroll, and Arithmetic in one scroll—all circulated in his time. Chu Hui of Wu commandery, styled Gaoming, was famed south of the Yangzi for his study of the Three Rites. In Emperor Yang's time, Confucian scholars were summoned from throughout the realm and gathered in the Imperial Secretariat; they debated in succession, and Hui was so broad and eloquent that none could overcome him—hence he was promoted to erudite of the Imperial University. He compiled Rites Commentary in one hundred scrolls. Gu Biao of Yuhang, styled Zhongwen, was expert in the Documents and the Spring and Autumn. In Emperor Yang's time he served as a secretary academician and compiled Old Text Documents Commentary in twenty scrolls. Lu Shida of Yuhang served as assistant instructor of the Imperial Academy under Emperor Yang and compiled Mao Odes Chapter-and-Line Meaning Commentary in forty-two scrolls, which circulated in his time. Zhang Chong of Wu commandery, styled Shuxuan. He served Chen as left palace gentleman-general—not his preference; he then pondered deeply the classics and compiled Outline of Spring and Autumn Meanings, differing from Du's school in more than seventy matters, Mourning Garments Meanings in three scrolls, Classic of Filial Piety Meanings in three scrolls, Analects Meanings in ten scrolls, and Former Han Pronunciation Meanings in twelve scrolls. He rose to the post of reader to the Prince of Han. Wang Xiaoji of Pingyuan loved learning from youth, read broadly in many writings, thoroughly studied the Five Classics, and had considerable literary talent. He shared the same aims and was on friendly terms with Liu Xuan of Hejian. In the Kaihuang era he was summoned into the Imperial Library to assist Wang Shao in compiling the national history. Shao did not treat him with courtesy; he remained in the office many years yet still had to pay taxes. Xiaoji, depressed and thwarted in his ambitions, submitted a memorial to Minister of Personnel Niu Hong, saying:
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調 使
I venture to think that when poison truly stings the skin, one cannot sleep from dawn to dawn; when hunger and cold cut to the flesh, one passes the year in misery as well. Why is this? Pain is hard to settle into peace; poverty easily brings one to the edge. Moreover, within the breast ice and fire melt the marrow; between the pores wind and frost invade the bones—how can one bite one's tongue and seal one's lips, swallow one's voice and choke back one's breath, hate the sound of groaning, and endure such bitter suffering! I respectfully consider that the enlightened Minister shows a countenance of pity and compassion and opens a generous breast; his cough and spittle could revive a dried fish, his breath and puff could lift the wings of a destitute bird. The fragrance of pepper and orchid, warm words like cloth and silk—grant the petty man's request and let the great lord hear. Even though mountains and rivers are not far and spirits and gods are present here, trust has proof and words are never unfulfilled—I still fear that saving the drowning may lag behind the outstretched hand, and rescuing the hanging man may be slower than steadying the feet. If one waits for the boat of the man of Yue or seeks the cloud ladder of the craftsman of Lu, one will surely hang from the branch of a withered tree or sink to the bottom of the deep abyss. For a single poor man to serve seven years straight in the secretariat, unable to escape tax and corvée, untouched by rewards and honors, selling the fields of Gong Yu to pay the expenses of Shi Zhi, burdened with a weak son, lacking the estate of a strong elder brother— add to this an old mother still at home, the light and shadow of late life, cold and heat missed in attendance, passes and mountains beyond reach, biting the arm to set a date while the road ahead grows ever more distant—the longing at the gate grows keener morning and evening. Like Sima Xiangru's feigned illness, there is no office by which to be excused; like Mei Fu's desperate resignation, not even an immortal could avoid it. Grief and illness are worse than malignant ghosts; human life is not metal and stone. The wandering soul is about to scatter; I fear the divination for me will show no sign; carrying regret into the dark realm, I would have relied on your grace in vain—this is why Wang Ji spoke as he did, and why Marquis Ying was displeased. Hidden within hair and temples, dwelling between brow and lashes—Zi Ye never heard of it, Li Zhu never saw it; sunk in the Eastern Pavilion, detained in the Southern History, with no recommendation in the end, forever like one buried in the coffin. Three generations without transfer—though this comes from obscurity; ten years without promotion—truly because I lack a knowing patron. One who does not appear in every generation is a sage and enlightened ruler; one who is not one in ten thousand is a truly worthy minister. That one not appearing in every generation should meet one not one in ten thousand—this is why your petty servant considers the enlightened Minister fortunate. Sitting at the source of men and things, wielding the balance of selection, yet turning the fox-fur cloak inside out and disliking the dark robe—this your petty servant cannot approve in the enlightened Minister. Formerly before the Jing jade was cut open, Bian He's feet were amputated; before Baili Xi was employed, Qin Xi lost his head. Occupying a place where one may speak, possessing the means to employ talent, adding clarity to eyes and ears without cramping hands and feet—if one fears and does not act, who will understand the reason! An office may not match one's ability; a scholar may not have his grievance heard—one man's private talk spreads through all under heaven. To toil without reward—how can one be without hope! If illness has not yet reached death and madness can still be restrained, I would sweat out words of utter despair on bamboo strips and compose verses of parting sorrow, record my intent for earlier worthies and open my heart to sages to come, so that a thousand years hence men may mourn my ill fortune and trace blame to the responsible officer, staining pure repute—then this unworthy body would be a burden in life and death, and your petty servant's fault would remain unexpunged. I beg you to show a little pity and heed this without neglect!
19
調
Hong also knew he had learning, yet in the end he received no promotion. Later he returned to his native place, made teaching his occupation, and died at home. His commentaries on the Documents and the Odes were scattered and lost in the turmoil.
20
The historiographer says: An old saying runs: "Physique is not worth looking at, courage and strength are not worth relying on, clan name is not worth speaking of, forebears are not worth praising—yet what makes one renowned in the four directions and leaves a name to posterity? Is it not learning?" How true these words are. Men such as Huiyuan and Rongbo, with steadfast resolve never weary, seeking within themselves, were able to hear the Way from below and be called treasures at the mat. Some gathered disciples by the hundreds and thousands; some wore caps and rode chariots; honored in enlightened times—these were truly the power of revering antiquity. Jiangyang had an easy bearing and elegant reputation, a manner leisurely and far-reaching, pure talk and lofty discourse—greatly famed in his day; Yanzhi loved the classics and delighted in history, honed body and sharpened conduct, kept ritual institutions in mind, and in action followed the rule; He Tuo was broadly versed and brilliantly alert, spiritually keen and quick to understand, elegantly gifted in speech, and also skilled with pen and phrase—yet he took denunciation for uprightness and lost the manner of the Confucian; Liu Chuo's Way topped the girdled and sashed; he exhausted the numbers of heaven's signs—both precise and broad, penetrating the hidden and probing the subtle, inscribing the deep and reaching far, his source and flow unfathomable; in several hundred years, this man alone; Liu Xuan's learning was truly that of a comprehensive Confucian; his talent could fulfill affairs; of the Nine Schools and Seven Summaries there was none he did not cover—though in probing the hidden and seeking the obscure he did not reach Chuo, in framing meanings and composing explications his literary elegance surpassed him. Both men's Way approached innate knowledge, yet the age did not grant them time; one reached only the lowest rank of scholar, one was abandoned starving in a ditch—alas. Zixia said: "Life and death are a matter of fate; wealth and rank are in heaven's hands." What heaven grants is intelligence; what it does not grant is noble office—even the highest sage could not escape this; what could Chuo and Xuan do against fate!
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