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卷77 列傳第42 隱逸

Volume 77 Biographies 42: Recluses

Chapter 77 of 隋書 · Book of Sui
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1
Book of Sui, Volume 77, Biography 42
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○ Recluses
3
綿
Ever since writing and records began and dynasties succeeded one another through the ages, times might wax and wane, yet men who lived in reclusion had never been absent. Thus the Book of Changes speaks of one who "withdraws from the world without vexation," and also of one who "does not serve kings and lords"; the Book of Odes says, "Gleaming bright is the white colt in the hollow vale"; the Book of Rites says, "The scholar, on high, does not treat the Son of Heaven as his lord; below, he does not serve kings and lords"; and the Analects says, "Raise up those in retirement, and all under Heaven will turn their hearts to you." Though their paths of action and withdrawal differed and their modes of speech and silence diverged, each pursued his own purpose—these were all ways of the true gentleman. Hongya marked the beginning, Jishan gave the custom its breeze; the Seven Worthies appeared in the Zhou age, the Four White Heads shone in Han times—and from Wei and Jin onward their current spread ever wider. The great among them held the realm lightly and treated the myriad things as trifles; the lesser were content with stern integrity and took poverty as their joy. Some mingled with the world and were carried off with its currents; others defied their age and set themselves apart from convention, turning their gaze to rivers and lakes as they went their own way. They delighted in fish and birds, kept zither and books close at hand, gathered stray grains and wove shed feathers, drank from stony springs and rested in the shade of pines and cypresses. They let their hearts roam beyond the universe and found contentment within their own breasts; yet all rejoiced in perfecting themselves alone, and few were eager to bring benefit to the world at large. Yet sage kings who received the Mandate and cultured rulers who upheld the tradition—none failed to send silken cords back and forth and rush-wheeled carriages in long processions, hurrying to mountain valleys for fear of not reaching them in time—why was this? Because although their Way had not been broadly realized, their resolve could not be broken; even without the achievement of steering the state, they still possessed the integrity of worthiness and constancy. They were enough to stiffen the resolve of the timid and still the wind of greedy rivalry; they could not be spoken of in the same breath as those who seize profit by any means. This is what is meant by using the useless as use, and by acting without acting yet leaving nothing undone. Therefore I relate their lives and set forth their conduct, to complete this chapter on recluses.
4
○ Li Shiqian
5
退
Li Shiqian, styled Ziyue, was a native of Pingji in Zhao Commandery. He lost his father in childhood and became known for his filial devotion to his mother. When his mother once vomited, fearing she had been poisoned, he knelt and tasted the vomit himself. His uncle Yang, who served as Inspector of Qizhou in Wei, held him in deep admiration and would often say, "This boy is the Yan Hui of our house." At the age of twelve, Zan, Prince of Guangping of Wei, recruited him as Record Keeper of the Prince's Household Staff. Later, when his mother died, he mourned until he was skin and bone. An elder sister of his, married into the Song clan, died of grief she could not bear. When Shiqian's mourning period ended, he gave his house over to become a Buddhist monastery and withdrew from worldly life. He went to study and pursued learning with tireless refinement, eventually reading widely in all the classics and also excelling in astronomy and numerology. Xin Shu, Minister of the Civil Service in Qi, summoned him to serve as Supernumerary Gentleman, and Prince Rui of Zhao Commandery recommended him for moral conduct—each time he pleaded illness and declined. He Shikai also valued his reputation and intended to prompt the court to appoint him Director of the Imperial Academy. Shiqian learned of this and firmly declined, and so was spared the appointment. When the Sui came to rule the empire, he held firm to his resolve and never took office. Because he had been orphaned young, he never drank wine or ate meat, and never spoke words of killing. When relatives and guests gathered, he would set out wine and meat for them, sit upright in their company, and keep at it all day without tiring. The Li clan was powerful and numerous; whenever the spring and autumn communal sacrifices arrived, they held grand gatherings of utmost revelry, and none failed to end up drunk and disorderly. They once gathered at Shiqian's home with lavish fare spread before them, yet he first set out millet and said to the assembled kin, "Confucius called millet the chief of the five grains, and Xunzi also said that in eating one should put millet and glutinous millet first—what the ancients honored—how could one go against this?" Young and old grew solemn and dared not be lax; afterward they said to one another, "Having seen a gentleman, we now realize how lacking in virtue we ourselves are." When Shiqian heard this, he blamed himself, saying, "How have I come to be held at a distance by others, to this sudden degree!" His household was wealthy, yet he personally practiced thrift and made relief and charity his constant concern. When someone in the district could not manage a funeral, Shiqian would hurry to assist and supply whatever was lacking. When brothers divided property unequally and came to quarrel and sue one another, Shiqian heard of it, contributed funds to supplement the one who had less, and made his share equal to his brother's. The brothers, ashamed and afraid, yielded to one another in turn and in the end became good men. When an ox trespassed on his fields, Shiqian led it to a cool place and fed it, treating it better than its own owner did. When he saw thieves reaping his grain and millet, he kept silent and withdrew from them. When a household slave once seized a thief of grain, Shiqian comforted him and said, "Poverty drove him to it—by right one should not blame him." He immediately ordered the man released. His slave once wrestled while drunk with a fellow townsman named Dong Zhen; Zhen seized his throat and killed him on the spot. Zhen, fearful and remorseful, begged forgiveness; Shiqian said to him, "You had no intent to kill—why apologize! Yet you should go far away, lest the officials seize you." His nature was generous and mild—all his conduct was of this kind. Later he distributed several thousand bushels of grain to lend to his fellow townspeople; when the year's harvest failed, the debtor households had no means to repay and all came to apologize. Shiqian said, "The surplus grain in my household was meant for relief and support—how could I seek profit from it!" Thereupon he summoned all the debtor households, set out wine and food, and burned the contracts before them, saying, "The debt is settled—please do not brood on it." He had each of them depart. The next year the harvest was abundant; the debtor households vied to repay Shiqian, but he refused them and accepted nothing. Another year brought great famine and many deaths; Shiqian exhausted his household's resources to make gruel for the hungry, and those who survived by his aid numbered nearly ten thousand. He gathered and buried the bones of the dead—none that he saw were left unattended. When spring came, he again distributed grain and seed to the poor. The farmers of Zhao Commandery were grateful to him and would tell their sons and grandsons, "This is the lingering kindness left by Registrar Li." Someone said to Shiqian, "Sir, you have much hidden virtue." Shiqian said, "What is meant by hidden virtue? It is like ringing in the ears—one alone hears it, and others know nothing of it. What I do now, my sons all know—how could there be hidden virtue!"
6
黿
Shiqian was skilled at discussing arcane principles; once when a guest was present who did not believe in the Buddhist doctrine of karmic retribution, thinking that the secular classics made no mention of it. Shiqian explained to him, "Accumulate goodness and blessings remain; accumulate evil and calamities remain—great houses await enfeoffment, sweeping tombs await mourning—are these not responses of fortune and misfortune? The Buddhist sutras say that revolving through the five paths of existence has no end—this is what Jia Yi meant when he spoke of a thousand transformations and ten thousand changes without limit, of suddenly becoming human. Before the Buddhist Way came east, worthy men already knew that it was so. Consider Gun becoming a yellow bear, Du Yu becoming a cuckoo, Lord Bao becoming a dragon, Niu Ai becoming a beast, the gentleman becoming a swan, the petty man becoming an ape, Peng Sheng becoming a pig, Ruyi becoming a dog, Lady Huang becoming a soft-shelled turtle, Xuan Wu becoming a river turtle, Deng Ai becoming an ox, Xu Bo becoming a fish, the bell-ringer becoming a crow, the scholar becoming a snake, Yang Hu's former incarnation, the son of the Li clan—are these not what Buddhism calls transformation into different forms?" The guest said, "Xing Zicai said that a pine or cypress could not in a later life transform into a foul tree—I think he was right." Shiqian said, "That is talk that misses the point. Transformations all proceed from the mind—how could wood have a mind?" The guest again asked about the relative merits of the three teachings; Shiqian said, "Buddhism is the sun; the Way is the moon; Confucianism is the five stars." The guest could not refute him and let the matter rest.
7
沿 ' '
Throughout his life Shiqian delighted in composing lyric poems of reflection, but would always destroy the drafts and never show them to others. He also once discussed punishments; the transmitted text is incomplete. The gist runs, "Emperors and kings make laws; each age follows and changes them differently—one may naturally increase or decrease them, but need not change them all at once. Today the corrupt who take heavily are put to death—this is cruel yet does not restrain. A saying goes, 'When people do not fear death, one cannot frighten them with death. I think that for this crime one should apply corporal punishment: amputate one toe; for a second offense, sever the right wrist. For exile punishment, amputate three fingers of the right hand; for another offense, remove the wrist. Petty thieves should be tattooed; for another offense, remove the three fingers they use; if still unrepentant, remove the wrist—none would fail to stop. When ruffians are banished to the borderlands, they become agents of disorder—this is precisely what summons the barbarians; it is not the way to seek good government. Gambling and licentious roaming are the sprouts of theft; if prohibition does not stop it, tattooing will suffice." Men of insight largely thought he had grasped the substance of good government.
8
In the eighth year of Kaihuang, he died at home, aged sixty-six. When the men and women of Zhao Commandery heard of it, none failed to weep and say, "We do not die, yet Registrar Li is made to die!" More than ten thousand people attended his funeral. Fellow townsman Li Jingbo and others, because Shiqian's Way was manifest in field and garden, set forth his conduct in detail and went to the Ministry of Personnel to request a posthumous title for him; the matter was shelved and did not proceed, so they together erected a stele at his tomb.
9
歿
His wife, Lady Lu of Fanyang, also possessed wifely virtue; when her husband died, she accepted none of the funeral gifts offered and said to the district elders, "The Registrar all his life delighted in giving; now that he has died, how can one wrest away his resolve!" Thereupon she distributed five hundred bushels of grain to relieve the poor.
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Cui Kuo's son Ze
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Cui Kuo, styled Shixuan, was a native of Anping in Boling Commandery. His father Ziyuan served as Administrator of Yanzhou in Qi. Kuo was orphaned young and poor, and his mother was of low status; for this reason the clan and local community did not regard him as their equal. At first he served as village aide and repeatedly met with humiliation; stirred by this, he fled into the mountains. He then read broadly in books and mastered many fields; scholars east of the mountains all took him as their master. When he returned to his native place, he did not respond to official summons. With Li Shiqian of the commandery he was a friend who needed no words, visiting each other constantly; in their day they were called Cui and Li. When Shiqian died, Kuo mourned him bitterly, composed a biography for him, and submitted it to the Imperial Archives. Shiqian's widow, Lady Lu, whenever there was a household matter would have someone consult Kuo for a decision. Kuo once wrote a treatise on the principles of law and nomenclature; though its argument was exceedingly fine, most of the work was never preserved. In the Daye period he died at home, at the age of eighty. He had a son named Ze.
12
漿
Ze, styled Zujun, could compose essays at seven; he was short in stature but gifted with a ready tongue. Early in the Kaihuang reign, Prince Xia of Qin recommended him; he placed at the top of the policy examination and was ordered to join the Confucian scholars in fixing rites and music, receiving appointment as Collator. He was soon promoted to Director of Harmonization, and Su Wei, the Minister of Ceremonies, greatly valued him. When his mother died he resigned his post; profoundly filial by nature, he went five days without food or drink. He was summoned to serve as Reader to the Princes of Henan and Yuzhang, spending alternate days at each prince's residence. When the Prince of Henan was made Prince of Jin, Ze became Staff Secretary and thereafter ceased attending Yuzhang. The Prince continued to esteem him and sent Ze a letter that read:
13
西
In the days of the Han western capital and the Liang prince's founding of his realm, at Pingtai and the Eastern Park men who admired virtue gathered like trees in a forest. Sima Xiangru left his post in the Palace Cavalry Guard, and Mei Sheng relinquished the governorship of Hongnong. Whenever I read the historical records, I have always wondered why they would abandon official honor and settle in a prince's household. Looking from today back to antiquity, I finally grasp their noble purpose. Those two men surely did not act in vain! You are erudite and retentive, probing depths and reaching far; beside the Han minister's three satchels of books you seem to traverse Mount Meng, and before the Liang chancellor's five cartloads you seem to swallow Lake Yunmeng whole. My elder brother honors the worthy and cherishes scholars with tireless devotion; he built a palace for Guo Wei and keeps sweet wine ready for Mu Sheng. Now he has reopened his domain and renewed his pledge over land and river; his territory spans seven hundred li, embracing Qufu; his cities exceed seventy, taking in Linzi; he has thrown wide the gates of Nanyang and is now opening his eastern hall to guests. I picture you riding beneath a flying canopy, trailing your long robe, seated on a tortoiseshell mat in pearl slippers, singing of mountain cassia and composing verses on the bamboo by the pool. Such is his lofty station, such his elegant bearing—what good fortune, what good fortune! What pleasure could equal it! Gazing toward the capital, I think of Dezao; my talent falls far short of heaven and earth, and I feel deeply ashamed before Zijian; words cannot say all I mean, so why multiply them?
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Ze replied:
15
殿 穿
Only yesterday I received your gracious letter; the favor shown me was beyond measure, and my heart was utterly overwhelmed. Its reasoning rises above the Image and Judgment texts of the Changes—Guan Lu would have pondered in vain; its matter overflows the Classic of Mountains and Seas—even Guo Pu's commentary could not exhaust it. The five colors blend in harmony and the eight tones assemble in rich concord—phoenix song cannot describe it, and dragon pattern cannot match it. When Wu Zha discoursed on the Zhou Hymns, he could not fully praise them; when the guest of Ying played "Spring in the Capital," who could keep the beat? Your Highness the Illustrious Prince, nourished by the imperial lineage and shining with the sun's radiance, excels the Prince of Dongping in refined conduct and surpasses the Prince of Beihai in literary accomplishment. Han had Sima Qian and Xiao Wangzhi; Jin had Pei Kai and Zhang Hua—your fame resounds like the rooster tree and spreads like the egret pool; looking toward my humble trail, the road between us is impossibly far. Zujun is but an extra guest in the south and a lazy wanderer in the north; I never aspired to emulate Yan Hui—how could I dream of admiring Lin Xiangru! I never studied by firefly or snowlight, never hung from a beam or pricked my thigh; I read only one chapter of the Analects and barely a foot of Zhuangzi. Moreover, sunset draws near like mulberry and elm at dusk; my larder is often bare; I have achieved nothing by lamplight and abandoned all hope of hitting the willow leaf. Yet as Yan sought the horse's head and Xue kept the rooster crowing, I have wrongly taken my place among swans and falsely ranked among thoroughbreds. Carrying Mount Tai over the North Sea would be easier than repaying your virtue; damming Mount Kunlun to make a pool would be simpler than returning your kindness. Suddenly the Zhou paulownia receives its omen and the house of Kang inherits the realm; generals and ministers stand at your gate, and your trees are fit to bear peach and plum. When the true dragon is about to descend, who still seeks renown? The incompetent musician has already fled—why should anyone else stay to listen! Yet your gracious words humble yourself and exalt me; rivers and seas are called kings because they lie below, and hills and mounds cannot match them. Had Cao Zhi heard your lofty discourse, his fine name would not have fallen; had Yang Xiu stood in your shadow, his pure virtue would not have suffered. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I respectfully submit this reply for your notice.
16
·
The Prince of Yuzhang received the letter and sent fifty shi of rice along with clothing, money, and silk. At that time most of the official writings of the Prince of Jin's household came from Ze's pen. When the Prince entered the Eastern Palace, Ze was made Supervisor of the Heir Apparent's Fast and was soon promoted to Attendant. After the Yuande Heir Apparent died, Ze went home, pleading illness. He was later summoned and appointed Attendant of the Imperial Diary. In the fourth year of Daye he accompanied the emperor to Fenyang Palace and stopped at Heyang garrison. Wang Tan, magistrate of Lantian, found a jade figure on Mount Lantian three feet four inches tall, dressed in a broad-collared robe and wearing a headcloth, and presented it to the throne. The emperor asked his ministers, but none could identify it. Ze answered: "I respectfully observe that before Emperor Wen of Han there was no such headcloth; it must have been made since Emperor Wen's reign. I have read in Lu Yuanming's Record of the Songshan Shrine, written when he was Grand Minister of Agriculture of Wei, that a divine being took form in jade only a few inches long, appearing and disappearing; when it appeared, the age was lengthened. I respectfully consider that Your Majesty responds to Heaven and accords with the people, establishing the capital at Song and Luo; the mountain god has revealed himself— I dare offer congratulations." He bowed twice; all the officials congratulated him; the emperor was greatly pleased and granted him two hundred bolts of silk. While accompanying the emperor up Mount Taihang, he was asked by imperial edict: "Where is Yangchang Slope?" Ze answered: "According to the Geography Monograph in the Book of Han, Yangchang Slope is in Huchang County, Shangdang." The emperor said: "That is not the one." He answered again: "According to Huangfu Mi's Geographic Book, Yangchang Slope lies ninety li north of Taiyuan." The emperor said: "That is the one." He then said to Niu Hong: "This is what Cui Zujun meant by 'ask one and know two.' In the fifth year he was ordered to compile, with other scholars, the Geographic Records in 250 volumes, and submitted the work. The emperor was dissatisfied with it and had Yu Shiji and Xu Shanxin expand it to six hundred volumes. When his father died he resigned, but was soon recalled and ordered back to duty. During the Liaodong campaign he was made Chief Secretary of the Eagle-Flying Guard; the names chosen for the new Liaodong commanderies and counties were all proposed by Ze. By imperial command he composed the Record of the Eastern Expedition. In the ninth year he was appointed Chief Secretary to the Prince of Yue. At that time bandits were rising throughout the east; the emperor sent him to pacify Gaoyang and Xiangguo, and more than eight hundred men surrendered. In the twelfth year he accompanied the emperor to Jiangdu. When Yuwen Huaji murdered the emperor, Ze was offered the post of Compiler but pleaded illness and refused to serve. He fell ill on the road and died at Pengcheng at the age of sixty-nine.
17
Ze was close friends with Yuan Shan of Luoyang, Liu Bian of Hedong, Wang Shao of Taiyuan, Yao Cha of Wuxing, Zhuge Ying of Langya, Liu Chuo of Xindu, and Liu Xuan of Hejian; on holidays they would talk together from morning till night. He wrote more than a hundred thousand characters of verse, inscriptions, and epitaphs, and compiled the Comprehensive Records of Notable Knowledge in seven volumes and the Records of the Four Categories across Eight Dynasties in thirty volumes; before these could be put into use, Jiangdu fell and all were burned to ash.
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○ Xu Ze
19
綿 使 便 使 使
Xu Ze was a native of Tan in Donghai Commandery. From childhood he was calm and reserved, with little appetite for worldly things. He studied under Zhou Hongzheng, mastered the Three Mysterious Learning, and excelled in debate until his reputation filled the capital; Ze sighed and said: "Fame is the guest of substance—am I to be the guest?" With that he resolved to live in seclusion, took up his staff, and withdrew to Mount Jinyun. Later several hundred students pleaded to become his disciples, but Ze refused and sent them away. He never married and always wore a plain cap and hemp robe. During the Taikang period of Chen he answered a summons and stayed for a time at the Zhizhen Abbey. After a month he declined further service and withdrew to Mount Tiantai, where he abstained from grain to nourish his nature and lived on pine and water alone; even in the bitter cold of midwinter he wore no padded clothes. Grand Tutor Xu Ling had an inscription carved on the mountain and a eulogy erected in his honor. While he was still on Mount Jinyun, the Perfected Man of the Grand Ultimate, Lord Xu, appeared to him and said: "When you pass eighty, you will become a king's teacher, and only then will you attain the Way." When Prince Guang of Jin was stationed at Yangzhou, he learned Xu Ze's name and wrote him a personal summons: "The Way gathers all subtleties; the Law accords with nature; it embraces yin and yang and blends them into the ten thousand things. When a man can enlarge the Way, the Way does not pass in vain. You, Master, practice virtue and cultivate emptiness, take the Mysterious as your guide and treat all things as equal; you deeply grasp the meaning of righteousness and clearly understand the gates of the Law. Your nature delights in purity and mystery; your spirit rests in tranquil emptiness; you feed on pine and live by alchemical arts, dwelling among mist and colored clouds. You gaze toward Mount Chicheng awaiting wind and clouds, roam the Jade Hall borne by dragon and phoenix; though you hide your name on lofty peaks, your worth still shines across the Jiang-Huai, and your fine counsel has long occupied my thoughts day and night. I reverently honor the pure Way and have long kept an open heart; I sit with seat askew awaiting a recluse and dream of life in mountain caves. The frost wind has turned cold and the sea air is growing chill; rest in the deep forest and let your body of the Way find its ease. Long ago the Four Hoary Heads of Mount Shang readily entered the Han court, and the Eight Lords of Huainan came to serve at a prince's residence. Times may change, but mountains and valleys remain the same; sages of old already spoke of hiding in plain sight within the city; to guide the ordinary and expound the sacred—if not you, Master, then who? Therefore I send an envoy to invite you; I trust you need not trouble to dress formally—come at once in splendid readiness, without waiting for a carriage of rush wheels to draw you from your empty valley. I hope you will condescend to come; I stand waiting for the clouds to part." Xu Ze told his disciples: "I am eighty-one this year, and the Prince has summoned me; Lord Xu's prophecy has proved true." With that he set out for Yangzhou. When the Prince of Jin was about to receive instruction in the Way, Ze declined, saying the time was not auspicious. That evening he had his attendants bring incense and performed the rites he usually observed at dawn. At the fifth watch he died; his body remained supple as in life, and for several weeks his complexion did not change. The Prince of Jin issued a proclamation: "The true recluse of Tiantai, Master Xu of Donghai, took emptiness and certainty as his foundation, subtle mystery as his completed virtue, treated all things as equal while dwelling apart from the world, and disciplined his conduct to preserve his person. Clad in grass and rush, feeding on pine and living by alchemical arts, he dwelt hidden on sacred mountains for more than fifty years. His transcendent gifts were extraordinary, his spirit lofty and free; like a thousand fathoms of depth or ten thousand acres of breadth, none could fathom his limits. I have long reverenced the wind of the Way and nourished myself on your pure virtue; again and again I sent envoys to invite you from afar, hoping devoutly to receive the supreme teaching and establish a worthy bond. He had only just arrived, less than ten days ago, when he cast off the dusty world, ascended in transformation, and returned to the true realm of spirit. His body remained soft and his complexion unchanged—is this not what the medical classics call corpse liberation and earthly immortality! Though the rites of discipleship were never completed, my heart had already pledged itself to him; though I should rejoice in his transformation, sorrow still fills my breast; provide whatever his funeral requires. Rainbow robes and feathered canopies—he has already ascended on clouds; an empty coffin and leftover garments—what need has he of mound and tomb! Only his staff remains, to show conformity with ordinary custom; send envoys to return him to Mount Tiantai for proper burial." At that time, from Jiangdu to Mount Tiantai, travelers on the road often saw Ze walking on foot, saying he had been released to return. When he reached his old dwelling, he took his scriptures and Daoist texts and distributed them among his disciples; he had a room swept clean and said, "If guests come, receive them here." Then he crossed a stone bridge and departed—to where, no one knew. Shortly afterward the coffin with his body arrived, and only then did they understand that he had undergone spiritual transformation. He was eighty-two years old at the time. The Prince of Jin heard this and was all the more astonished; he sent a thousand lengths of goods as funeral gifts, had painters depict his likeness, and ordered Liu Bian to compose an encomium that began, "The Way that can be spoken is not the eternal Way; the eternal Way has no name. The highest virtue is not virtuous; the utmost virtue has no fullness. The mysterious wind had spread abroad, and there was the Master. Long he refined the golden elixir, delighting his spirit in jade purity. Stone marrow had just softened; cloud cinnabar was about to be perfected. He spoke of following Ge Hong and would take Mao Ying as his companion. Our prince from afar was drawn to him and thus felt his numinous sincerity. For a time he opened the pillar beneath; on the river he sank his essence. He left a talisman to announce his faith; transforming his staff, he flew away with a sound. Forever thinking on his numinous traces—how may one give full vent to feeling? At times one spreads the plain portrait, as if facing Red Wall."
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At the time there were Song Yuquan of Jian'an, Kong Daomao of Kuaiji, Wang Yuanzhi of Danyang, and others who also practiced grain avoidance and sustained themselves on pine water—all were valued by Emperor Yang.
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○ Zhang Wenbi
22
Zhang Wenbi was a native of Hedong. His father Ju served as Magistrate of Huanshui during the Kaihuang era and was known for purity and uprightness. He owned several thousand volumes of books and instructed his sons and nephews, all of whom attained office through mastery of the classics. Wenbi read broadly in literary works and was especially expert in the Three Rites; the Book of Changes, Book of Odes, Book of Documents, and the three commentaries to the Spring and Autumn Annals—all he mastered thoroughly. He always favored Zheng Xuan's commentaries, considering them comprehensive and penetrating; the varying doctrines of other scholars he also investigated in detail. Emperor Gaozu drew in famous scholars and eminent learned men from across the empire; Fang Xianyuan, Zhang Zhongrang, Kong Long, and their kind were all invited to serve as Erudites. When Wenbi visited the Imperial Academy, Xianyuan and the others all deferred to him; within the academy there was harmony, and all revered him together. His students often went to Wenbi to request clarification of points that troubled them; Wenbi would cite evidence broadly and argue without end, following only the course he chose. Huangfu Dan, Attending Secretary in the Imperial Library, was a leading figure of the court in his day and always observed the rites of a disciple toward him. When he happened to reach the Southern Terrace, he hastily adorned the horse he rode and went to the academy to invite Wenbi to accompany him. Wenbi always led the horse and walked alongside, his intent being not to advance himself by relying on others. Su Wei, Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, heard his name and summoned him; after conversing with him he was greatly pleased and urged him to take office. Wenbi had no wish to serve in office and firmly declined. At the end of the Renshou era the academy was abolished; Wenbi leaned on his staff and returned home, making irrigation and gardening his occupation. The province and commandery repeatedly recommended him, but he never responded to summons. He became known for his filial devotion to his mother. He always transformed people through virtue, and the village and district considerably shifted their customs. Once someone stole and reaped his wheat at night; Wenbi saw him and withdrew, and the thief, moved by this, abandoned the wheat and apologized. Wenbi comforted him, swore himself not to speak of it, and firmly had him take the wheat away. After several years the thief told fellow townspeople of it, and only then was it known far and near. A neighbor built a wall that was not quite straight; Wenbi therefore tore down his old wall to match it. Wenbi once had a pain in his lower back; a physician who claimed skill in spell-binding treated him and wounded him with a blade, so that he collapsed on his bed. The physician kowtowed and begged forgiveness; Wenbi immediately sent him away and covered the matter for him, telling his wife and children, "Yesterday I had a dizzy spell and fell into a pit—that is what caused it." His way of covering others' faults was all of this kind. The province and county, because he was poor and plain, were about to offer relief and support, but he always declined and would not accept. Whenever at leisure with nothing to do, he would calmly sigh and say, "Old age comes on gradually—I fear a cultivated name will not be established!" He would strike the armrest with his ruyi scepter, each blow landing in its place; men of the time compared him to Min Ziqian and Yuan Xian. He died at home at the age of forty. Fellow townspeople erected a stele in praise of him and called him Master Zhang.
23
The historiographer says: What the ancients called recluses was not hiding the body so it would not be seen, not closing the words so they would not come forth, not concealing wisdom so it would not be released. Rather, with tranquil indifference as their heart, neither bright nor dim, they rested in the times and accorded with circumstance, without selfishness toward things. Shiqian and the others forgot official caps and robes, fulfilled their resolve in field and garden, lived in reclusion without violating kinship, were steadfast without cutting themselves off from the world, urged without teaching, went forth empty and returned full; people loved them as parents and cherished them as kin—without natural pure virtue, who could reach this? Yet Shiqian, hearing praise, was not pleased; Wenbi, seeing injury, was not angry; Ze's aim lay in deep obscurity—none could draw him near or push him away, none could make him noble or base—all were men who embraced simplicity. Cui Kuo, stirred by humiliation, came to be praised for his ample withdrawal; Zujun's literary brilliance was sufficient to continue and enlarge the ancestral achievement—father and son, though active and still in different directions, in achieving fame were one; how fine!
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