《梅仙观记》

Immortal Lord Mei (Mei Fu) was a native of Shouchun Prefecture in Henan. His personal name was Fu, and his courtesy name was Zizhen. During the reign of Emperor Cheng of the Western Han, Mei Fu was appointed Commandant of Nanchang County in Hongzhou. As an official, Mei Fu was upright and uncorrupted, had no taste for show or splendor, always kept the sufferings of the common people in mind, and never had them flogged.

At that time Wang Mang was sowing disorder and would eventually usurp the Han throne, Wang Feng's grip on power grew stronger by the day, and portents and calamities appeared again and again, so that court officials argued over them endlessly. Unable to bear seeing the people sink into misery, Mei Fu submitted a memorial, the Memorial on Calamities and Anomalies, out of loyalty and a sense of righteousness, setting out the successes and failures of the government.

The memorial said:

"Your servant has heard that Jizi feigned madness under the Shang, and later set out the Great Plan (Hongfan) for the Zhou. Shusun Tong left the Qin to join the Han, and drew up its rites and institutions for the Han. Shusun Tong was not disloyal at the outset, and Jizi did not distance himself from family or betray his kin. It was simply that at the time, no one could be made to understand the reasoning.

"In former days, Emperor Gaozu of Han delighted in hearing good counsel and feared he had not heard enough. He accepted remonstrance as smoothly as a round object rolls. He listened to advice without demanding anything of the adviser's status, and he employed men of merit without probing their pasts. Chen Ping rose from among fugitives to become a strategist, and Han Xin was recommended from the ranks of the army and later served as a great general. For this reason, scholars from all under Heaven flocked to the Han and vied to offer their plans. The clever exhausted their strategies, and even the dull gave their best thought. The brave gave full play to their integrity, and even the timid forced themselves to face death. Emperor Gaozu gathered the wisdom and strength of the whole realm. That is why overthrowing the Qin was as easy as lifting a goose feather, and taking Chu was like picking up something dropped on the road, until the emperor had no rival under Heaven.

"Emperor Wen rose from the Dai region. He had no teachers like the Duke of Zhou and the Duke of Shao, and no ministers like Yi Yin and Lü Shang to assist him. Yet he followed the statutes of Gaozu and added to them reverence and frugality. In his time the realm was nearly at peace. From this we can see that if Gaozu's statutes are followed, the state is secure, and if they are not, it falls into disorder.

"The Qin were without the Way. They discarded the rites and laws of Confucius and the Duke of Zhou, destroyed the well-field system, and abolished the five ranks of nobility. Ritual and music collapsed, and the kingly way could not be put into practice. By the time of Emperor Wu of Han, the court favored loyal remonstrance, accepted frank speech, and bestowed office and rank, and rewards did not go only to those of great reputation. Therefore commoners everywhere worked hard and gave their utmost, and those who came to the capital to offer plans were too many to count. The Han's acquisition of talented men was at its most flourishing in this period. Yet had Emperor Wu heeded their plans, perhaps great peace could have been achieved. Instead Emperor Wu was immersed in campaigns of conquest, which left corpses and bones strewn across the land and gave Liu An, King of Huainan, the chance to rise in revolt.

"That his schemes did not succeed and his deliberations leaked out was because worthy men had gathered at court and the great ministers were powerful and dared not side with the rebellion. Today commoners spot a gap in the state's defenses and rise up, as the revolts in Shu Commandery and Shanyang show. They recruit followers and move about openly, with no thought of hiding. This shows that they hold the great ministers in contempt and fear nothing. The power of the state has weakened, and so even ordinary people want to contend with the court. Scholars are the state's essential strength: with them, the state's power is strong, and without them, it is weak. The Book of Songs says: 'Many are the able men, and through them King Wen found peace.'

"Discussing affairs of state is not properly the business of common people. But your servant feared dying in the wilderness, with a corpse listed among the common soldiers, and so submitted memorials again and again asking for an audience, only to be refused each time. Your servant has heard that in the time of Duke Huan of Qi, a man came seeking an audience on the strength of reciting the multiplication table, and Duke Huan did not turn the man away, hoping thereby to draw in men of greater talent. What your servant has to say goes far beyond the multiplication table, yet Your Majesty has refused your servant three times. Because of this, scholars of the realm are unwilling to come forward.

"In former times King Wu of Qin loved martial strength, and Ren Bi came to seek an audience. Duke Mu of Qin pursued hegemony, and the worthy You Yu came over to join the duke. If Your Majesty now wishes to draw in the scholars of the realm, then when commoners submit memorials seeking an audience, they should be referred to the Imperial Secretariat to be questioned about what they have said. If their views are worth adopting, they should be given a low-ranking stipend and a bundle of silk as a reward. In this way the scholars of the realm will speak freely and offer loyal opinions and sound plans. The guiding principles of government and conditions both within and outside the court will then be clearly revealed.

"The realm is vast and its people many, and there are plenty who can talk eloquently. But truly outstanding men who can see the course of events and set out matters of government, whose writing is reasoned and accords with the words of the sages while also meeting the needs of the age, are not numerous. Therefore office, rank, and rewards are like a whetstone: they spur on the world and rouse even the dull-witted. Confucius said: 'If a craftsman wishes to do his work well, he must first sharpen his tools.' The Qin did not do this. They established the crime of slander and blocked the path of advice, which is like holding a sharp sword upside down and handing the hilt to one's opponent. So long as the court does not give up its authority, then even if some under Heaven do not submit, they will find it hard to blunt the court's edge. This is how Emperor Wu of Han expanded the borders and established great achievements, and became the Han's most illustrious ruler.

"Now Your Majesty does not follow the hegemons' way of drawing in talent, yet wishes to select the men of the age by the electoral system of the Three Dynasties. It is like going to the market with only Bo Le's illustrations in hand to look for a thousand-li horse, and naturally it will be hard to find one. Gaozu did not hold Chen Ping's past faults against him and used his plans. Duke Wen of Jin welcomed the Zhou king, and Duke Huan of Qi also employed men who had committed offenses. They were not bound by questions of rank and propriety but looked only at whether something benefited the situation, and this is the way of the hegemon. What is pure and unmixed is called 'refined,' and what is a mixture of black and white is called 'motley.' To try to govern the disorder left by the tyrannical Qin with the methods of an age of great peace is like using the village wine-drinking ceremony to put order into a marketplace within a military camp.

"Now Your Majesty not only declines to adopt the views of the realm but also has people put to death. When magpies are harmed, benevolent birds hasten to fly away, and when fools are punished, worthy men withdraw all the more. Your servant has heard that when commoners submit memorials, they are often handed over to the Commandant of Justice for interrogation for violating needless laws, and many have lost their lives because of this. Since the Yangshuo era, people throughout the realm have been very wary of discussing government, and the court most of all. The ministers merely follow the sovereign's wishes, and no one holds fast to the correct path. How do we know this? Take the passages in commoners' memorials that Your Majesty considers good, and hand them to the Commandant of Justice for examination. The Commandant is sure to say: 'These are not words that should be spoken, and the offense is one of great disrespect.' From this it can be known.

"Wang Zhang, Governor of the Capital, was upright and loyal in character and dared to argue to the sovereign's face. Emperor Xiaoyuan once promoted Wang Zhang in order to encourage straight-speaking officials and correct the government. Later Your Majesty had Wang Zhang executed, with disaster extending to wife and children. Wang Zhang was guilty of no treason, yet even the family was struck by calamity. This will crush the integrity of upright men and seal the mouths of remonstrating ministers. The ministers all know this was wrong, yet none dares to argue. When people throughout the realm treat speaking out as taboo, this is the gravest danger to the state.

"Your servant hopes that Your Majesty will follow the old institutions of Gaozu, close off the road along which the Qin perished, listen more to frank words, abolish needless laws, and issue an edict permitting people to speak freely."

This inscription opens with the story of Mei Fu of the Western Han remonstrating with the emperor, to show that a minister ought to speak plainly. It then recounts the legend of how Mei Fu resigned his post, went into seclusion, sought out the Dao (the Way) and cultivated it, and finally became an immortal on Mount Feihong. It also explains the origin of local names such as "Mount Meixian" and "Meixian Monastery."

Mei Fu held that the court should listen widely to opinion, should not reject advisers because of their humble status, and should not block the channels through which advice reaches the throne. What he called "laws of no urgency" referred to the practice of suppressing criticism so that no one dares to speak. The past, he said, cannot be undone, but the future can still be remedied.

At that time the emperor's commands were constrained by powerful ministers, and the influence of the consort clans grew greater by the day. Citing solar eclipses, earthquakes, floods, and other calamities, Mei Fu argued that these phenomena portended an excess of yin and a decline of yang (Yin-Yang), and that they also reflected an imbalance in the government. He pointed out that each time the Han dynasty had fallen into crisis, it was because the empress dowager's family held power. Toward one's relatives, he said, one should protect and instruct them so that they learn loyalty and filial duty. To give them high office and heavy authority instead, letting them grow arrogant and domineering until the whole clan is finally destroyed, is the greatest harm one can do to one's kin.

Mei Fu added that even a man as worthy as Huo Guang failed to make proper provision for his descendants. Once the power of a minister rises above that of the ruler, it is too late to guard against it after matters have come into the open. He once urged the emperor to treat the Wang family, the maternal relatives, with kindness, and proposed restoring the "Three Lines" (the sacrificial and enfeoffment traditions of the descendants of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties), but the emperor did not adopt his advice.

Mei Fu understood that his rank was low and that speaking beyond his office might bring punishment, yet he was willing to risk death to point out the misfortunes of the world. He said that if he kept his post and stayed silent, then even if he preserved his life, his name would be ruined after death; and even if he held lofty rank and had abundant carriages and horses, he would not value them. He wished only for a chance to set out his views before the emperor. Even if they took no immediate effect, they might leave some useful words for later generations. This was why he could neither sleep nor eat for worry.

He then urged the emperor to preserve the descendants of earlier rulers, because supporting others also makes one's own regime more secure, whereas blocking others' paths to survival will in the end block one's own. As an example, he said that the Qin dynasty destroyed the Zhou and swallowed up the six states, yet showed no respect for the descendants of earlier dynasties and abolished the Three Lines, and afterward the state fell into danger and its heirs met disaster. After King Wu of Zhou overthrew the Shang, he still enfeoffed the Shang descendants in Song and the Xia descendants in Qi, so that the sacrifices of the Three Dynasties would continue, showing that the world does not belong to one family alone. Mei Fu therefore observed that Cheng Tang (the founding ruler of the Shang) no longer received any sacrifices, that the Yin-Shang line had been cut off, and that the Han imperial house had also long lacked a flourishing succession, which might be connected to a lack of respect for the inheritance of earlier dynasties.

He also cited the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Guliang Commentary, arguing that Confucius was not only a sage but also a descendant of the Yin-Shang line, and that his heirs should be honored. King Cheng of Zhou had buried the Duke of Zhou with the rites due a feudal lord, which brought thunder, wind, and other calamities. Now the temple of Confucius stood only in Queli (his old home), and his descendants were still ordinary registered commoners, which was probably not in accord with Heaven's will. If the emperor were to reward Confucius's descendants in recognition of his merit and virtue, the state would receive blessings and the emperor would leave a lasting name. When the emperor still gave no reply, Mei Fu began to think of withdrawing. He held that a minister who has remonstrated many times without being heeded should leave. So he took off his official robes, hung up his cap, bade farewell at the capital gate, and resigned his post and left Jiujiang. To avoid the power of the emperor's maternal uncles, he changed his name and surname and worked as a petty peddler in Wumen in order to preserve his life.

Afterward, Mei Fu sought teachers and visited masters of the Dao, gathered herbs on famous mountains, and often lived in seclusion in deep mountains and secluded valleys. He once joined Zhang Zifang, son of Zhang Liang, in beating time with clappers and singing the "Song of No Birth," using it to give voice to his feelings. After this he traveled through southern Kuaiji and the Min region, and cultivated for many years on Mount Zhiti without success. Tradition holds that a nun offended him there, and he sighed in anger: "A spirit elixir refined nine times only grows purer. Why resent that success comes late?" He then moved to Mount Xianxia, east of Mount Wuyi, and lived in carefree seclusion in a place rarely touched by human footsteps.

In those mountains there were apes and tigers, as well as a bamboo called "Slender Waist" and an herb called "Yellow Sprout." He built a thatched hermitage against the mountainside and devoted himself to cultivation, living by abstaining from grain (bigu) and eating pine resin, longing to become an immortal. Later he established an altar and practiced cultivation at Jiancheng. One day the mountain was hazy, mist and rosy clouds filled his room, purple clouds wreathed the summit, and immortal music sounded in the air. A divine being told him that the Lord of Kongdong was about to arrive. Moments later the Lord descended, and Mei Fu bowed in welcome. Seeing the firmness of his resolve to study the Dao, the Lord transmitted to him the method of the "Great Elixir of Return, refined by external firing (Waidan) and internal cultivation (Neidan)," along with the "Text of the Nine Elders of the Immortal Capital for Aiding the World," and told him to choose another famous mountain and practice according to these methods, for only then could he become an immortal.

After this Mei Fu came down the mountain to carry out the methods of aiding the world, and tradition says they were repeatedly effective. He went on to cultivate at Mount Yinglong, Maozhu Cave, Mount Yanxian, Mount Yuhua, Mount Wushi, and other places, but kept meeting obstacles: corpse-ghosts causing trouble, divine beings appearing in dreams to urge him to leave, mountain fires, drought and banditry, and a woodcutter's wife who disturbed him. Lamenting that his affinity with the Dao was thin and the hindrances to his practice were many, he again carried out the methods of aiding the world for several years, and afterward came to cultivate on the western ridge of Jianjiang.

One day the Lord of Kongdong descended again and told Mei Fu that his destined affinity for the Dao lay on Mount Feihong, and gave him the "Spirit Elixir of the Eight Spirits for Repelling Demons." The Lord summoned two radiant youths, leading a chestnut horse and a white horse, and commanded Mei Fu to ride to Mount Feihong and devote himself to cultivation, promising to receive him into the heavens when his work was complete. Mei Fu built a hermitage on Mount Feihong and practiced for a thousand days, finally reaching a state in which his spirit (Shen) roamed outside his body and the light of his elixir illuminated the sky. From then on he had attained the Dao.

He opened the furnace and took out the elixir, offered it to Heaven and to Earth, and swallowed one pill. The gods of Heaven and Earth guarded his elixir; the Earth god then reported the matter to the Three Officials (the Daoist deities governing heaven, earth, and water), who memorialized the Heavenly Court that Mei Fu of the Western Han had attained the Dao on Mount Feihong. As Mei Fu, riding his white horse, prepared to return to Jiujiang, the two youths clapped their hands and chanted verses before the horse, then vanished beneath a great rock in a mountain stream. In an instant red light lit the sun and purple mist spread; sweet dew and heavenly flowers fell, and immortal music rose. Golden Boys carried the staff of authority, Jade Maidens held parasols, strongmen led simurgh-birds, and attendant immortals bore an edict announcing the Heavenly Court's command that Mei Fu ascend to heaven on a simurgh. Mei Fu bowed in thanks, abandoned the horse, and departed on the simurgh, and the white horse fell into the water.

Ever since, Mount Feihong has also been called Mount Meixian. West of the mountain lies Zhuima Islet (Fallen Horse Islet); thirty li away is Mount Yibian Cao (Dropped Whip Hill), at the foot of which is Dengxian Village (Ascent-to-Immortality Village). East of the mountain, by the stream, are Taotong Rock (Fleeing Youths Rock) and Jiaoma Pool (Glued Horse Pool); on the flank of the mountain is the Ganlu Spring (Sweet Dew Spring), and behind it Tianhua Ridge (Heavenly Flowers Ridge), where traces of flowers remain on the stones. Local people call the mountain "Lingshi Ridge." At the foot of the mountain, it is still said that elixir light appears and fades, and the Meixian Daoist Monastery maintains incense offerings there.

Later, Buddhist monks occupied the monastery site, removed the immortal's image and installed Buddhist statues in its place, renaming the monastery Guanyin Monastery and relocating the image of Meixian to the Founder's Hall. Yet local people still habitually called it Meixian Monastery, and did not change the name to match the plaque. Beside the monastery stands another temple, dedicated to the Five Holy Dharma Protectors, which locals call the Temple of Lord Mei. The inscription states that Mei Fu's name and relics belong to the legends of immortals and sages, and that twenty-two bingyin years have passed since the Han dynasty. At the end, drawing on the version held at the Meixian Hall in Jianning Prefecture, it notes that there is another site of elixir refining at Mount Mei in that region, and the inscription records it accordingly.

During the reign of Emperor Cheng of Han, the court's order and discipline had fallen into ruin. Master Mei repeatedly submitted memorials to admonish the emperor, pointing out that the affairs of government had spread out of control like a fire and ought to be set right. Yet among the hundreds of high officials at court, who wore swords and shoes of rank, not one could serve the state by cutting down the treacherous ministers. Why, then, should Master Mei, a former official of Nanchang, be the one to act in indignation in so remote a place?

Perhaps it was because Nanchang lay far from the capital and Mei's post was lowly. Having offended the emperor's authority and affronted the favored and powerful ministers, Mei was in the end treated as nothing more than a reckless madman, and Mei's solitary person and clan were struck down as well.

The ministers and high officials held the power of life and death, and the evil of factions and private interests was severe. Yet every word they spoke and every deed they did had first to be discussed with wives and children. Anything that did not benefit their own households would be obstructed even by concubines and maidservants, to say nothing of relatives and close kin. So even those who harbored concern for the state could only keep silent. Alas! Those who enjoyed favor and salary thought it shameful to speak of merit and reputation, and those in high office did not discuss the affairs of the court. Thus when the world was well governed, upright men held high positions; when the world fell into disorder, upright men were left in low ones.

Whenever I read Master Mei's memorials, I grieve for the affairs of the Han state. Now, traveling south, I have passed through Master Mei's old home. Alas, why should the world be so full of hardship?

Inscribed on the back of the stele: Dashan, Xiao Shanming.

In the Daoist temple on Meixian Mountain in Fengcheng, there stands a stele dedicated to Master Mei, composed by the Tang poet Luo Yin. Yesterday, the temple and the stele were restored together, the result of the Daoist priest Xiong Yingxiang's tireless efforts to rebuild them. After the stele was raised again, my friend Luo Yongzhi came to visit and asked me to write out its text.

He asked me: "You are a distant descendant of Zhaojian (Luo Yin's courtesy name). Why have you solemnly written in regular script (kaishu) the deeply felt essay that your ancestor Luo Yin composed for this earlier man of letters?" I thought: it is precisely because it recalls the events of the Han dynasty, and reading it stirs such deep feeling.

Alas! Heaven wished to overturn the realm of the Han, and so it brought forth a worthy man like Master Mei, hoping to save it. The Han cast aside the blessings Heaven had bestowed, and cast aside the blessings of the people; the two turned their backs on each other, and the result was that they brought disaster upon themselves. When weapons clashed and warfare never ceased, Heaven itself could do nothing; when the old phoenix turned into a monstrous thing, the Han could not prevent a new dynasty from replacing it. Alas! Lose worthy men, and the state perishes; gain worthy men, and the state may endure. A state endures because it heeds frank remonstrance; a state perishes because it treats sincere counsel as idle jest.

Master Mei's integrity was truly towering, as though it pierced through Heaven and Earth. He saw that the worldly realm was like mud, not worth clinging to, and so he concealed himself away, living in seclusion like a treasured jade. He took leave of the Han, sat in hidden retreat beside the city gate, set out upon the path of the immortals, and poured out his heart to the Celestial Emperor. The achievements of the Liu house of Han gradually faded, like traces left in the vast sky that do not remain; yet Master Mei's name endures forever, and people together revere him in dedicated shrines. Shrines and stelae may perish, but the Dao of immortality will never vanish. Now the inscription has been carved anew on azure jade (qingyao, blue-green jade), so that the characters can be read and also touched by hand. If Luo Yin had awareness, he would surely be as clear-minded as ice; if Master Mei could live again, the sun and moon would not grow dim.

The first day of the sixth month, year gengwu (1270), the sixth year of the Xianchun era.

"Written After the Stele of Master Mei" by Xiaoshan Huangtai Lai

Reading Luo Yin's inscription, one can not only grasp Master Mei's intentions but also feel his integrity more deeply. Today, wherever there is an altar to Immortal Mei, most have a shrine built there, because people revere him. Su Dongpo once said: "The spirits are spread throughout the world, like water existing within the earth; wherever one goes, one encounters them." (The final sentence of the original seems to contain errors or omissions; it is interpreted here according to its most common meaning.)

Imperial edict of the Song dynasty; document of the Department of State Affairs.

The Secretariat-Chancellery (Zhongshu Sheng) memorialized: The petition forwarded by the Department of State Affairs (Shangshu Sheng) was based on reports from the Court of Imperial Sacrifices (Taichang Si) and the Zhennan Military Command. Fengcheng County investigated and confirmed that the Meixian Altar Temple (Meixian tanguan) in Nanqi Village, Xuanfeng Township, does receive annual state-sponsored sacrifices and prayer rituals. In times of flood or drought, local people also come there to pray, and it is said that responses are frequently received. The prefectural government examined the matter and found these circumstances to be true.

Yang Zhiyuan, a Daoist priest of the Meixian Altar Temple, reported that the temple was originally a site left behind by Mei Fu of the Han dynasty. The ancient altar, the elixir well (a well used for refining elixirs), and the foundations of the hermitage are all still preserved. The temple is traditionally said to have been founded in the Han period, and it has long been listed in the register of sacrificial sites. He requested that the court be petitioned to bestow upon Mei Fu the honorific title "Perfected Lord" (Zhenjun).

The prefectural government held that Mei Fu's lofty integrity and his loyal, upright remarks are recorded in the histories and can be verified. In his later years, to escape the turmoil of Wang Mang, he left his wife and children and traveled far to Jiujiang, thereby preserving himself. Later generations have handed down the tradition that he became an immortal. Today the relevant remains still exist, and the temple has been restored in a dignified and complete state. When floods, droughts, epidemics, or other calamities occur, the people pray and often receive a response. The prefecture therefore requested that the court bestow an honorific title, so as to answer the prayers of the local people and repay the divine favor they feel they have received.

This prefecture has long called Mei Fu "Perfected Mei" (Mei Zhenren). After deliberation, the Court of Imperial Sacrifices requested that the court elevate his title to "Perfected Mei Fu of the Han Dynasty" (Han chao Mei Fu Zhenren), pending the court's decision. The Secretariat-Chancellery, on the basis of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices' report, respectfully awaits the Emperor's decree. This matter is recorded in the Yuanfeng era.

Conferral of Honors

Mei Fu lived during the Han dynasty. On many occasions he spoke out, single-handedly and without reserve, on the great affairs of the realm, and his aspirations were lofty indeed. In his later years he stayed at home, reading and cultivating body and mind, and in the end he left the mundane world to wander far away in seclusion. People of later ages have passed down the tale that he became an immortal.

To this day, west of the Great River, there are still temples and shrines that enshrine images of Mei Fu. When people pray for his protection, they often receive a response, and the common people benefit from it. The officials concerned reported the matter to the court, and so the court bestowed upon him an illustrious title, so that his numinous traces and his renown might be handed down. The emperor has specially conferred on Mei Fu the title "Perfected of Shouchun" (Shouchun Zhenren). Once this edict-document has been delivered, it should be handled in accordance with the regulations. This document is issued.

The seventh month of the fifth year of Yuanfeng.

Ministry of Rites, Department of State Affairs

Upon investigation, it has been learned that the Department of State Affairs recently sent down a "yellow record" (lu huang) stating that Mei Fu of the Han dynasty, who is enshrined at the Meixian Temple (Meixian Guan) in Fengcheng County, Zhennan Army, has by imperial edict been specially conferred the title "Perfected of Shouchun." The edict-document is to be kept at this temple, and an official is to be dispatched to the locality to hold a ceremony of announcement with reverence and sincerity, and in addition a plaque is to be made and hung. The relevant documents have already been sent to the locality, requiring that the matter be carried out and a report returned, and that the edict-document be properly preserved. Many days have now passed, yet no report has been received. The official in charge of this matter in Zhennan Army should be urged to report back as quickly as possible, in accordance with the requirements of the earlier official communication, and there must be no further delay as before. Upon receipt of this communication, it must be carried out without fail.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month of the fifth year of Yuanfeng.

Hongzhou

On the twenty-third day of the eighth month of the fifth year of Yuanfeng (1082), a document was received from the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, dated the twenty-ninth day of the seventh month of the same year. It relayed a memorial from the Ministry of Rites, the Department of State Affairs, and the Secretariat. According to a report from the Zhennan Military Command, an inquiry by Fengcheng County had established that the Meixian Altar Temple (Meixian tan guan) in Xuanfeng Nanqi Village was indeed a site where the court held sacrifices and prayers each year. In times of flood or drought, local people came to pray there and often received a response. The prefectural government investigated and confirmed that this was true.

Earlier, Yang Zhiyuan, a Daoist priest at the Shousheng Meixian Temple, had petitioned that the temple was originally a relic left by Mei Fu of the Han dynasty. The ancient altar, the elixir well, and the foundations of a hermitage still survived. The temple buildings were traditionally said to date from the Han, and it had long been included in the register of sacrifices. He asked the court to take up the matter and bestow upon Mei Fu the title of Perfected Lord (Zhenjun).

The prefectural government held that Mei Fu was a man of lofty integrity and loyal, outspoken counsel, whose deeds were recorded in the histories and could be verified. According to tradition, in his later years he avoided the turmoil of Wang Mang, left his wife and children, and went to Jiujiang, where he lived in seclusion and cultivated his nature. Later generations came to regard him as an immortal. His relics still remained, and the temple buildings had been solemnly restored. When the people met with flood, drought, or illness, they came to pray and often found their prayers answered. The prefecture therefore asked the court to confer an honorific title, so as to respond to the devotion of the local people in their prayers and thanksgiving. At the time, the prefecture had long called him "Perfected Mei" (Mei Zhenren), and it asked for instruction on how he should be formally ennobled.

The court ordered the relevant offices to proceed in accordance with precedent. The emperor's rescript stated: Mei Fu lived in the Han dynasty and, as a lone minister, repeatedly spoke candidly on the great affairs of the realm; his aspirations were truly grand. In his later years he stayed at home reading and cultivating his nature, and in the end rose above the world. People say that he became an immortal. Today his temples and images still stand west of the Yangtze, and the people's prayers there are often efficacious, bringing blessings to the populace. The officials concerned have reported this to the court, and so a distinguished title is granted, that his numinous power may be transmitted without decline. I hereby enfeoff Mei Fu as "Perfected of Shouchun" (Shouchun Zhenren).

Ninth month, fifth year of Yuanfeng.

The Prefecture of Hongzhou (present-day Nanchang area, Jiangxi) received an official communication from the Ministry of Rites of the Department of State Affairs. It recorded in detail an imperial edict ordering an official to travel to the Shousheng Altar-Temple of Immortal Mei in Fengcheng County, to make a sincere sacrificial offering and report it to the court. To honor the spirit's protection and its undying efficacy, the Emperor decided to confer on Immortal Mei the special title "Perfected Person of Shouchun" (Shouchun Zhenren). Ninth month, fifth year of the Yuanfeng era (1082).

Hongzhou then received a further communication from the Ministry of Rites, commanding that an official be sent to the Shousheng Altar-Temple of Immortal Mei in Fengcheng County to make a sincere offering, proclaim the imperial order, enfeoff Immortal Mei as Perfected Person of Shouchun, and have a plaque made and hung. The imperial warrant sent by the court was to be kept by the temple itself. Once the matter was completed, a written statement describing how it had been handled and where the warrant was stored was to be submitted to the Department of State Affairs.

The Hongzhou authorities had already finished the plaque on the nineteenth day of this month, decorated it with gold lettering, and handed it to a Daoist priest of the temple to carry back. The authorities also sent a messenger bearing the sacrificial text. Magistrate Zhang of Fengcheng County was to follow the Ministry's instructions: once the party arrived, he was to go at once to the temple, make a sincere offering, hang the plaque, and report the result to Hongzhou. Tenth month, ninth day, fifth year of the Yuanfeng era.

The text of the edict reads: The Emperor once toured the south, setting out from Yuzhang, and traveled by boat with the Empress Dowager and members of the palace household. Through all the winds and waves of the journey, they were protected wherever they went, and so a reward is bestowed in gratitude for the spirit's kindness. At the altar-temple of Mei Fu's ascent to immortality, on the northern bank of the great river in Fengcheng, Hongzhou, the Perfected Person of Shouchun is venerated. Mei Fu's remonstrances went unheeded, yet he left behind a name for lofty purity. Troubled that the Han house's norms and order were decaying, he left the market of Wu and never returned. The court has already built a shrine and temple for him and granted him a title. Now it adds a finer designation and issues a new favor, to express its special regard and to console his life's aspirations. He is hereby specially enfeoffed as "Perfected Person of Shouchun, Official in Reclusion." The above edict shall be carried out in accordance with its terms upon delivery. The original gives the era name and date as "the eighteenth day of the intercalary fourth month, second year of Shaoyu."

Verses and Inscriptions

"Eulogy for Master Mei"

• In the original text, the character "劫" should, judging from context, be a term of imperial command such as "敕" (edict); "绍与" may contain a textual error, so the original wording has been retained.

Immortal Mei (Mei Fu, courtesy name Zizhen), while serving in Nanchang, asked to be relieved of office for a time and submitted a memorial to the throne. He spoke plainly about the affairs of the age, spending all his effort and steadying his resolve. He praised worthy men while condemning the Qin, rebuked the powerful, and set out his own views. The court, he said, must examine the times, and if it loses its authority, the consequences are indeed just so. Talent is the essential foundation of a state. When worthy men gather at court only to be feared and resented, how can they be recruited? The key lies in honing one's conduct. When the magpie is harmed, the benevolent bird departs as well, and no one can carry a drawing to the marketplace in search of a fine horse. He then spoke of the descendants of the Kong family and held that the court ought to emulate Cheng Tang. Fine virtue grows fresher with the years, and he would make it plain. From the phoenix to Wang Mang, the Han order was at last broken, and by the time precautions were taken it was too late. His words, he said, would be borne out, and he would journey far away, riding the clouds to the land of the immortals.

Inscribed at the Hall of Immortal Mei, by Meng Binyu of the Ministry of Water

The road to the realm of the immortals is long, and the clouds and mists drift faint and far. Beside the ancient altar the wind sounds clear and pure, and the leaves rustle. How can later generations say that Immortal Mei languished unrecognized? From a post as county commandant he rose in flight and reached the highest realm of the Dao (the Way).

The Former Residence of Master Mei, by Huang Tingjian, Grand Historian

Had Master Mei not come from Haomen, he would never have served as commandant of Nanchang. After submitting his memorial he returned, and court and marketplace alike had fallen silent and empty. Laughing, he brushed past the flowers on the mountain cliffs and asked about the affairs of the human world: "The son of that old friend is now the State Preceptor, Lord Gong."

Sent to Master Yang of the Temple of Immortal Mei, by Su Zhe, Imperial Secretary

The Daoist master lives on True Man Peak. I wanted to visit him but could not find the path. Last year he promised to let me come into the city, but dust darkened the sky, and though I waited a long time, he never came.

You do not come, and I do not go, and it truly weighs on my heart. The Daoist books you sent me are worth a thousand pieces of gold. Having taken off my robes to become an official living on a salary, my planning has been short-sighted after all. Before my eyes lie heaps of writing, yet I can see neither the city nor the dust that darkens the sky.

The key teachings passed on by mouth and ear, and pointed out in person, come at their proper time. Only by breaking free of the worldly net does one truly understand. In his day Old Mei served as commandant of Nanchang under the Han, and at great risk he spoke bluntly about the affairs of the world and offended the ruler ("touching the dragon's scales" means offending the sovereign's majesty).

Once he flicked his sleeves and left, he never came back. He rode a white qilin, with a red luan bird at his side to shield him. Though I am still caught in the dusty world, why will the master not speak with me?

Someday, when I have achieved success and renown, I will go and throw myself into the famous mountains. When we meet, we will clap our hands, laugh aloud, and share our delight together.

Inscribed at the Hall of Immortal Mei, by Yang Cigong (Yang Jie)

The hearts of all under Heaven revere and love the utterly loyal, and the will of Heaven is in accord with that of mortals. Wings sprouted from Mei, who flew to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing; in Daoism, the three realms of heaven). Becoming an immortal does not depend on the nine-times-transmuted cinnabar elixir (the immortality elixir refined in Daoism) alone.

Immortal Mei changed names and wandered through the land of Yue. People set up a portrait in the Daoist manner and honored the immortal as Lord Xiao. The stone altar is said to be the very place of the ascension. When an old crane gives a single long cry, wind rises among the pines and junipers.

—Inscribed on "The Temple of Immortal Mei," by Hong Guifu Peng

The fortunes of the Han had declined, and nowhere within the four seas was there peace. Ah, Mei of Nanchang, you took off your official boots and left the dusty world, as though returning to the Primordial Year (in Daoism, the beginning of heaven and earth).

As a minor official, you gave your utmost loyalty, yet the affairs of the court were closely guarded secrets. Your memorials went unanswered in the end, and you were cast aside among the rivers and lakes.

One day, weary of worldly strife, you rode off ten thousand miles like the great Peng bird. What the histories record of this is truly beautiful and without equal.

To this day the place is regarded as the Jade Pool (the dwelling place of the immortals). Amid wind and dew, peacock-like immortal birds soar. Looking up at the realm where the immortals roam, one can still imagine, after a thousand years and more, its teeming vitality.

I would rather be an immortal clinging to the dragon's scales than learn to shed my body like a cicada and become an immortal alone.

—Inscribed on "Mount Mei," by Chen Chan

The master once held office in Nanchang and also gave the heart to reclusion. I came from a thousand miles away to seek this place beyond the world. Drawing water, I could still recall the scene at the well in spring. The elixir has long been put away, yet the altar at night seems still to glow.

The crane has returned to the ornamental pillar, but where has the man gone? From deep within the clouds comes the sound of dogs, and the day is as long as ever. I mean to come again in search of traces, staff of bamboo in hand, lingering here at leisure.

—Inscribed on "The Hall of Immortal Mei," by Zhu Lingcui

My letters went to the court, yet it was as if I had spent my strength in vain. I lodged in Nanchang as an official, and so too lodged my feelings there. My body has ascended to the ninth heaven and returned to the Purple Mansion (the realm of the immortals in Daoism), while my name is handed down through the ages, lodged among the green hills.

At night on the altar, who gazes up at the stars? In the morning among the halls, clouds and mist come and go of their own accord. The many peaks are rarely visited. This is plainly the realm of a true immortal, different from the dusty world.

—Prayer for rain at the Mei Altar in the Yimao year (the exact year must be determined from the original dating), by Yan Lingzhuang

Note: Lines in the original such as "Alas, Mei of Nanchang, taking off his boots in the Primordial Year," along with the expressions "beyond the world, the areca" and "spring well, chirping," are suspected of copying or reading errors. The above has been rendered according to the general sense of the context.

The reputation of the great recluse Mei Zizi (Mei Fu, courtesy name Zizhen) for lofty purity reached the emperor, and the Perfected One (zhenren, one who has attained the Dao) was again summoned and honored by the court. Although he held only a minor post in Nanchang, he communed with the heavens symbolized by the Pole Star, and his cultivation of the Dao grew ever more exalted.

He submitted memorials of remonstrance, but the mighty Han court could not tolerate them. So for a time he took on the bearing of an immortal and lodged himself in the Gate of Hao (here meaning the gateway of Daoist practice). I came here to seek the place where he paid homage to the Celestial Venerable of Primordial Beginning, only to find that the mountains turn their backs on the star altar, and the stream runs against the direction of the staff of legend.

Inscribed at the Mei Altar, by Lü Fang, Magistrate of Linchuan

His memorial went up and no reply came for so long that he resigned his post and left. Ancient trees and pale mist shroud the empty altar. In those days no one recognized this guest from Penglai; they saw only a petty official of Nanchang.

Inscribed at the Mei Immortal Temple

I once read the Biography of Zizhen, and each time I closed the book with a long sigh. Mei Zizhen's loyal and upright character was born, unluckily, in the age of Emperor Yuan and Emperor Cheng of the Han. His frank criticism of government affairs was orderly and traced problems to their roots. His stern integrity made the wicked tremble, and his indignation was so intense that it seemed ready to knock the caps from the heads of the Confucian scholars.

His memorials were repeatedly shelved. [The line beginning "Nine and nine ever level the maple" appears corrupted in the original and cannot be interpreted with certainty.] Most of the ministers of the time felt no shame. His vigorous writings survive in the records and still shine like the sun and moon today.

Perceiving that disaster was approaching, he flicked his sleeves and departed for the Jiujiang region. [The next several lines are clearly corrupted in the original; the sense seems to be that he left his wife and children, changed his name, and lived in seclusion at the Gate of Hao.] To speak plainly while holding high office has been especially rare since ancient times. That Mei Zizhen was able to preserve himself shows how hard it is to know when to advance and when to withdraw.

[The text following "Fan Zi happened upon a town" also appears corrupted.] What can be made out is this: he once came to this place and ascended the immortals' altar. Beside the altar stands a pine a thousand zhang tall, and a bracing wind still blows as before. [Lines such as "Shouchun below, the new Shao; in lofty flight, the green jade, ah" appear corrupted.] On the wall is an inscription by Luo Yin, apt in its content and well worth viewing.

In former days Lord Kangle (Xie Lingyun) traveled among famous mountains and left his footprints nearly everywhere. Why was this splendid place never carved in metal and stone to be handed down? The flying luan (the phoenix-like bird ridden by immortals) …

Inscribed at the Mei Immortal Temple, by Ma Zicai, Hanlin Academician

The Han court's governing order had grown slack, and the levers of state had slipped into the hands of powerful ministers. The emperor's authority, which ought to have carried a divine majesty, was like the keen sword Taie with its hilt held by someone else. The ministers and high officials clamored through the court like crowing roosters, yet each swallowed back what he truly wished to say. Zhang Yu had become the emperor's teacher, and this was the very root of the court's confusion.

The Son of Heaven dismissed his attendants and sought to decide great matters on a single word. He gave no thought to the altars of state and the realm, and cared only to indulge private affection. The palace held a sword for beheading horses, and Zhu Yun had once risked death to remonstrate, yet he was never given responsibility. Gu Yong also spoke frankly in his advice, but the court used schemes to cover over the calamity. Some secretly aided the wicked, then shifted the blame onto the consorts of the Zhaoyang Palace (here meaning the favored imperial concubines). From then on jackals and wolves ran unchecked, crouching in the middle of the road even in broad daylight.

It was in just such an age that the master submitted his memorial and struck at the palace gates. His heart was heavy with indignation and worry over the many calamities, yet his integrity shone as brightly as the stars. The gates of Heaven were closed layer upon layer, and beyond the palace gates stood guards by the thousands. Though the master carried a concern for the state as vast as rivers and lakes, how could he convey his purpose to the supreme Son of Heaven? Wang Mang did indeed usurp the state, and loyal and upright men were boiled and burned. The master then changed his name and surname and lived in seclusion near the Haoshi Gate. Later he vanished like a drifting cloud, yet people were willing to believe that he had become an immortal. Where the immortal mountain of Penglai truly lies, let us leave aside for now; I simply revere his lofty, pure bearing, which, after all these years, still stands as stern and fresh as ever.

I came to pay my respects before the master's portrait and found only the desolate foundations of his old residence. In the Yuanfeng era, the court issued a new decree and, with a jade tablet of investiture, honored the master as the Perfected Man of Shouchun. The old pines have grown ever more rugged, as though bearing the marks of frost year after year. I climbed to the altar at the mountaintop, where the mountain wind stirred my robes and sash. I read closely the writing on the wall and greatly admired the essay by Luo Yin. It is a pity that some of its stirring words only moved me to greater fervor on reading them. Looking back at those who know only how to eat their fill, they seem vague and drifting, like so much dust.

Inscribed on the Plum Immortal's Altar: Formerly, when I briefly held office in Jiangxi, I visited all the sacred sites around Nanchang. Why, then, was this one regret left behind, that I alone never reached the Plum Immortal's Altar?

Note: In the original, passages such as "Gong qing gou," "Huo feng fan," and "Geng yu" appear to contain corrupted characters, and have been translated according to the general sense of the context. The repeated passage from "jackals and wolves ran unchecked from then on" to "vague and drifting like dust" is given only once in this translation.

The Altar of the Plum Immortal (a Daoist altar commemorating Mei Fu) stands in Fengcheng, where a pure and clear Daoist atmosphere seems far removed from the mortal world. In his day, Mei Fu served as county commandant (xianwei) in Nanchang. His talent was highly regarded, yet his office was minor.

Under Emperor Cheng of the Han, the court's order and discipline had fallen into decay. Master Mei submitted memorials of remonstrance twice. Earlier, Wang Zhang had been promoted into the court, only to be killed through the machinations of powerful officials, and his wife, children, and associates were implicated as well. Mei Fu knew the lesson of this affair and dared not argue so openly again, and so everyone under heaven came to regard giving counsel as something to be feared.

Alas, such words were truly dangerous! How noble that he dared to criticize those of overwhelming power. Even if he offended a favored minister and was left isolated, it might not have brought any great harm. But when the ministers and high officials all kept their mouths shut and each sought only private gain, what was there to wonder at? It is truly sad that an upright man should hold a lowly post.

Later Mei Fu changed his name and lived in seclusion at Haoshi, and who knew where he had gone? During the Yuanfeng era, people searched out his traces and honored him; the remains of his old hermitage and his elixir well (said to be the place where he refined elixirs or drew water for them) still survive.

The Perfected One of Shouchun (a Daoist honorific) bestowed on him a distinguished title, praising him for keeping far from worldly dust and for his lofty integrity. Though the Master went unappreciated in his own time, he is honored now. The county magistrate and the assistant magistrate wrote essays praising his loyalty and uprightness, so that his hidden virtue (De) and radiance might be handed down for ages.

Inscribed on Mount Mei

Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang Jingxian

In his days as commandant in Nanchang, he submitted memorials to the court again and again. His loyal words failed to awaken the ruler, and he chose to hold to uprightness rather than cling to office dishonorably.

The Han age was rife with calamities and portents, and someone within the Hao Gate kept the recluse in mind. He resigned his post, ceased to weigh honor against disgrace, and left the dusty world with his sleeve drawn over his face.

His heroic spirit curved and stretched like a rainbow, while his body and mind were as free as a gull. He long remembered the days of repeated memorials to the court: loyal words did not awaken the ruler, and men who held to uprightness were ashamed to serve as such ministers. The Han suffered frequent calamities, and someone within the Hao Gate missed the recluse; he left office, forgot honor and disgrace, and withdrew from the world with his sleeve drawn over his face.

He forever embraced the Three Caverns (Dongzhen, Dongxuan, Dongshen) instructions (a general term for Daoist scriptures and methods of cultivation), and bade a distant farewell to the spring colors of Jiujiang. He chose a place to build a hall of the immortals, watched the clouds, and cut them into longevity scarves. On autumn nights he walked in the moonlight on the Mysterious Terrace (a Daoist term for a place of quiet cultivation), and in the night, in an empty chamber, he gathered his Shen (spirit) and cultivated the truth.

He did not seek fragrant grass to spring up in dreams, but held back the years and nourished a life as long as the great chun tree. The green, downy grass gave off its scent without end, and the blue-gray horse was uncommonly gentle.

A note on the text: several lines in the original are repeated, and some wording appears to be corrupted or missing; the above is translated according to the sense of the surviving text.

By the shore of Taiye Pond (a pond in the Han dynasty palace gardens) the immortal elixir was perfected, and the Way of the Yellow Center (Huangzhong zhi Dao, the Dao (the Way) of balance and harmony taught in Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation) opened a new path. Though the immortal of Mount Wuyi has long since fallen from his horse and departed, this land of dense trees has at last become a dwelling place of the spirits.

The immortal, bearing a crimson staff of office, has already paid court to the Celestial Emperor, yet still aids the common people with the waters of a spirit spring. A stone stele hands down the history of former days, and for a thousand years the deeds done here have been solemnly remembered by the villagers.

Auspicious Qi (vital energy) brings forth herbs of immortality, and the clear breeze passes its message to the feathered ones (Daoist immortals). On the altar the image of the golden cauldron still remains, and in the well the Jade Blossom Fluid (the jade liquid of the immortals) lies sealed away.

This place borders the immortal residence of Hongya, and its stream runs to the banks of the Sword River. Cranes return, stirring the clouds; dragons rise, their scales mottled like the veins of stone.

Having realized that the body itself invites sorrow, I had hoped to make friends among the worthy through virtue. The green mountains have never forgotten me, and today they seem like kin from heaven.

Two Poems on Meishan, by Fan Renzhong

The sword in the sleeve is stern, seeming able to cut down the wicked, its edge like frost; yet three memorials of loyal counsel were presented, and in the end there was no reply. On the day the petty official of Nanchang held fast to his solitary loyalty, the princes of the Western Han were seething and restless like boiling water.

So I will seek Chisongzi (Master Redpine, a legendary immortal) and gladly go off in his company; what need is there to have my name recorded in the annals of history? One imagines that the Master may have perfected the nine-times-refined Golden Elixir, and, in indignation, poured out the true feelings of the heart in an appeal to the Jade Emperor.

Talk of immortals is, in the end, remote and hard to grasp; yet Shouchun, this sacred ground, has since ancient times been a realm of the immortals. Beside the pines, white cranes seem to have roosted for a thousand years; beyond the ridges, how many times has the setting sun reddened the sky?

Riding the rosy clouds, the immortal plays with shadows in the cold, clear moonlight; the night wind passes over the Dou Altar (an altar for worshipping the stars and invoking the spirits), and a fragrance seems to drift across. The Master need not be called a Perfected One, for such a one will endure as long as heaven and earth.

Inscribed at the Temple of the Plum Immortal, by Chen Cangyi

After presenting loyal counsel, the sage hid away the name; ten thousand years of incense have left this mountain its sacred renown. Alas for those intoxicated with fame and rank: even if blood were to stain Xianyang, it could not awaken them.

Inscribed at the Plum Altar, by Zuo Shu Wang Shiyan

The solitary loyalty of Commandant Mei is known to the world, and his fair name has passed down through the ages. Though the office was lowly, why should that call for reclusion? So long as the heart is upright, one is like an immortal.

Daring to remonstrate, the concern for the times ran urgent; as a minister, the only hope was for a wise ruler. Xu Xun (styled Jingyang, a legendary immortal) was once called Magistrate, and the one who stands opposite him is Shiyan.

The solitary loyalty of Commandant Mei is known to the world, and his fair name has passed down through the ages. Though the office was lowly, why should that call for reclusion? So long as the heart is upright, one is like an immortal.

Daring to remonstrate, the concern for the times ran urgent; as a minister, the only hope was for a wise ruler. Xu Xun was called Magistrate, and the one who stands opposite him is Dan Quan.

Inscribed at the Plum Immortal Altar, by Liu Tingwu of Qingjiang

Zizhen (Mei Fu, the Han-dynasty recluse) lived in seclusion among the common people, admired for his lofty purity, and several hundred years have now passed. Before the Mei Altar, tall pines and slender bamboo grow thick. Had the Han emperor heeded the three memorials Mei Fu submitted in remonstrance, the master might never have resolved to become an immortal.

Inscribed at the Mei Altar, by Wang Bofan

The fortune of the Han (its "virtue of Fire," for the ancients matched dynasties to the Five Phases, and the Han belonged to Fire) had weakened but had not yet collapsed. Mei Fu's memorials were like the phoenix that cries out at the first light of dawn, foretelling that the situation was about to change. Had loyal counsel like yours been accepted, Wang Mang's treacherous schemes might never have succeeded.

The fair name of the master's immortality has spread across heaven and earth for all ages. How many ministers and high officials, by contrast, left behind only a stench of infamy after death? Even today, when the wind stirs the pine forest, the roaring of the pines seems to plead the master's grievance for him.

When the court was benighted, its officials stood silent like "parade horses." At night, though, the master still laid his memorials before Heaven. The affairs of the Han lie many years behind us, yet that solitary loyalty surely endures, shining like a bright star hung between the Dipper and Ox constellations.

Lodging at the Altar of the Immortal Mei, by Zhang Guangyang

I spend the night at the Altar of the Immortal Mei. The mountain is cold and every sound has fallen still. I lack the ability to live in hidden retreat while holding office as Mei Fu did, so I can only remember this immortal in my dreams.

Remnant snow still clings to the edges of the stones, and the pine boughs, like long beards, stir in the fierce wind. If I could sip the mist and rosy clouds of the immortal realm, I would ride a crane and go to ask after Hongmeng (the primordial state before heaven and earth were divided, the beginning of chaos).

Inscribed at the Mei Altar, by Zhong Jiu

Ten thousand pines ring the mountain ridges, towering into the clouds. A true man, Mei Fu, dwelt among these mountains and once lived here in seclusion. The well seems to hold the warmth of his elixir-making still, and the altar stands so high that one might reach out and bow to the Northern Dipper hanging low.

Recalling the affairs of the Han brings melancholy, and the poems people now inscribe here seem to be only vain longing. I would follow Mei Fu but find no road; I would ascend with him to immortality, yet I lack the fortunate chance of the legendary chicken of Xu the Immortal.

Hu Fa

A single loyal heart shines bright as the moon, yet the affairs of the world are hard to see through with the eyes of a cultivator of the Dao. I rode the clouds up to the Dipper Mansion (the heavenly abode where the constellations dwell), leaving only the mountain's cliffs and ravines encircling this altar of immortals.

Reflections on Visiting the Mei Altar, by Wu Jiguang of Linchuan

I linger a while before the altar of immortals and look up at the Dipper and Winnowing Basket constellations. Standing on this height, I feel as though the sky has sunk low. The pure and reclusive spirit Mei Fu left behind while serving in Nanchang endures still, enough to awaken those now bewildered by the worldly state of affairs.

Matching the Rhymes Inscribed on the Wall of Mei Mountain, by Deng Mengjie of Guxu

I am ashamed that my reputation is ruined and my standing lost, reduced to wearing a coarse cloth cap, and so I have had no chance to come peacefully to the altar. Though Zizhen (Mei Fu's courtesy name) lived in hiding, his fame could not be hidden. His lofty and pure bearing has been handed down through the ages and still inspires reverence today.

A recluse immortal from Haomen came to this mountain, deeply troubled that the Han dynasty's fortunes still faced many hardships. Had he been able to move the Son of Heaven with a few words and change the emperor's mind, Immortal Mei might never have become known to the world by his immortal name.

Inscribed at Mei Altar (the ritual platform where Immortal Mei refined elixirs), by Cao Xianjia

Lord Mei of the Han once refined elixirs here. The ancient altar is mottled with green moss, thick with its blossoms. Gazing far, the Wu Dao (the legendary road to heaven) stretches to the blue sky; a couch moved beneath the pines makes even the daylight seem leisurely. Mist divides the pavilions and towers as though setting them apart from the mortal world; wind carries the sound of bells and chime-stones down into the human realm. One cannot know, after Lord Mei rose to heaven on immortal Qi (vital energy), how many times he has returned to this old mountain riding a soaring luan bird.

Zhang Yi of Xinchang

I returned after submitting my memorial, with the sun already slanting west. In the mountains I quickly made a robe of climbing fig and moss (the garb of hermits, woven from plants such as bili and nüluo). I sought a place of safety for myself, not to hoard a Golden Elixir; I left the court because I knew the Han's fortunes were about to shift.

Wind and dew spread through the forest, and the cicadas have shed their shells countless times; beyond the pines and firs, a lone crane flies past the house. Hurrying here with fragrant flowers was not what the master had wished; his loyalty is known to Heaven and Earth.

Ancient trees are wrapped in withered vines, who knows for how many years. To come here in official robes was surely not a wasted journey. The affairs of the world are like waves rising on level ground, hard to turn back from; in the wind and rain of the deep mountains, one can instead sleep peacefully until dawn.

If my Dao (the Way) proves efficacious, it will in the end serve to aid the world; with a heart free of shame, one can reach Heaven. Fame and rank are fixed by fate, and I wish only to act according to my own aims, unwilling to run about in service like one who holds the whip and drives a carriage.

Sent on the Beginning of Spring to Yang Yilao of Mei Altar, by Fan Taizhong

Disappointed in an official career, I find spring has come round again in the blink of an eye; I am weary of toiling about in the red dust of the mortal world. Though I cannot yet free myself from endless worldly affairs, I often think of that carefree, unfettered life.

At dawn I draw water in an earthen jar to water the medicinal herbs; at night, in a feathered robe and bathed in dew, I pay homage to the true spirits (the Daoist perfected beings and deities). Dwelling in this realm beyond the dust, still and empty, the heart and mind feel free and at ease; I nourish my Shen (spirit) with pure, harmonious primal Qi.

Note: The original text appears to have lacunae or corrupted characters after "古坛翠," at "瓦缶天," and at "羽衣檬露," and so on; the above is rendered smoothly according to context.

The pavilion stands at the highest point of Plum Peak, where sun and moon drift together with primal Qi (yuanqi, the fundamental energy moving between heaven and earth). The heart of the Dao (Dao, the Way) is free and joyful, as leisurely as the heart of a cloud; as the clouds fly back and forth, a person too seems to gain freedom.

When the cloud-mist gathers, it can be seen for two hundred li around. Poetry and the sound of the zither are always at the window, as if waiting for you. How could enjoying them alone compare with enjoying them together? By the railing, a place is still owed to this old man.

Inscribed on Cloud-Delight Pavilion at Mei Mountain, by Zhu Xingfu (styled Yueshan)

My robe seems brushed with white clouds from on high; I ask the clouds to seal the gate, and it is not lightly opened. Let the clouds stay in the mountains and enjoy themselves; do not let a single wisp drift out of the mountains.

Zitang Chen Jie (styled Zitang)

White Robe, by Zhu Xingfu (Yueshan)

My robe seems brushed with white clouds from on high; I ask the clouds to seal the gate, and it is not lightly opened. Let the clouds stay in the mountains and enjoy themselves; do not let a single wisp drift out of the mountains.

Zitang Chen Jie

White clouds are like "a white robe turning into a gray hound" (a phrase for the endless changeability of clouds), mercilessly shifting and transforming, moving people past and present to sorrow and joy. Compared with them, the Daoist alone enjoys a lasting happiness, watching the clouds rise and vanish with nothing weighing on the heart.

Houlin Li Yishan (styled Houlin)

Clouds are by nature without intention; who is ever delighted by them? Since the immortal of Huayang (a place name) departed, few have understood this pleasure. I wished to share half a seat but never had the chance to come; then a cloud flew in, and it turned out to be seeking poetry.

Wang Shiyan, a man of Shu (the Sichuan region)

A whole life's livelihood is only to keep oneself at ease, coming and going each day with the white clouds. After five hundred years, this flavor is finally known: after Mount Hua, there is Mei Mountain.

Linyin Luo Yongzhi (styled Linyin)

Long ago, reading Master Yang's poems, I came to know the "lazy cloud." The clouds of Cloud-Delight Pavilion today are that lazy cloud's descendants. The dragon shows no anger and often returns to its casket; the crane, wearing a look of fear, keeps watch alone at the gate.

In spring I delight in seeking out companions who chant poetry; with a leisurely mind, I am also glad to talk with country folk. Know that when clouds rise from the mountains, they are loveliest on clear days; outside the pavilion, mist and rain hang thick, and the view is dim.

Chutang Hu Hongzi (styled Chutang)

What most people love is mostly bustling splendor. The joy that the Immortal Mao grasped, however, is a mountain full of white clouds.

The tall pavilion stands against the sky, overlooking the vast expanse; climbing up and gazing into the distance, the heart at once grows light. The pavilion is as high as the clouds, and the heart is as unhurried as the clouds.

The True Person Mei of the Eight Extremities (a Daoist immortal) rides the clouds, coming and going. I too am too lazy to leave the mountains, and often return to sit in stillness at the Cloud Gate.

With a clear voice I chant, keeping to quiet and solitude, how…

The tall pavilion stands against the sky, overlooking the vast expanse; climbing up and gazing into the distance, the heart at once grows light. The pavilion is as high as the clouds, and the heart is as unhurried as the clouds.

Perfected One Mei of the Eight Extremities, an immortal of Meishan, comes and goes riding the clouds. I too am loath to leave the mountain, and often return to sit in stillness at my mountain gate, veiled in cloud and mist.

Chanting elegant verses, I keep to seclusion and solitude. When will I at last dwell with you in the realm of stillness?

—Cui Cizhou

Immortals love to live in lofty towers, and the heavens hold many pavilions like fine jade. Auspicious clouds gather into a purple-black mass, and their vast, majestic aura circles and flows without cease.

The Daoist is a descendant of immortals and now dwells on the summit of Meishan. The peak rises a hundred feet, and each day the Daoist wanders with the clouds.

In silence I contemplate the inner landscape, where cloud-vapor drifts and coils. The windows stand wide open to welcome the cool air from the west. When the weather turns cold, the cloud shadows disperse.

Leaning on the railing, I pour out my present mood, and it seems that brush, ink, paper, and inkstone are all filled with mist and cloud. I welcome guests, discuss profound mysteries, and raise a cup to drink the sweet dew of the clouds.

There is no need to split matters in two and press for answers; let thoughts wind and tangle, crossing one another as they will. When the heart is at ease, joy comes naturally. When the mind is tranquil, what is there left to seek?

In joy, movement and stillness both follow the heart's wishes, and the coming and going of the breath is left to its own course. I wish to ride the cloud-vapor to ask my questions, and rise to the heights together with Taixu (the Great Void, the boundless emptiness).

Then I would follow the shadow of the whip of the immortals' ride, and roam at ease on simurghs and phoenixes. Looking down upon the eight directions of heaven and earth, I would travel freely across the Nine Provinces.

—Zhong's commentary

It is not that I love the clouds, but that the clouds love me; neither the clouds nor I hold any thought of distinction. I know that you love only to live in seclusion among the clouds and will not leave the mountain, and so there is nowhere to seek you out.

—Li Junshi

The Daoist who has no wish to leave the mountain is carefree and at ease, dwelling in a realm faint and ethereal. What a pity that an immortal like the rainbow-clouds stands right before us, yet draws the clouds and rain into Meishan.

Inscribed on Meishan

—Xue Xiuzhu

The altar of climbing fig (an altar for offerings or sacrificial rites) towers on high, just as autumn deepens. The tales of Han-dynasty immortals riding cranes to the sound of pipes have long since fallen silent. Waking at dawn, the dream of the west wind has dissolved, and what the wind brings down to the human world is, for the most part, cloud.

The Daoist who has no wish to leave the mountain is carefree and at ease, dwelling in a realm faint and ethereal. What a pity that an immortal like the rainbow-clouds stands right before us, yet draws the clouds and rain into Meishan.

Inscribed on Meishan

—Xue Xiuzhu

The altar of climbing fig towers on high, just as autumn deepens. The tales of Han-dynasty immortals riding cranes to the sound of pipes have long since fallen silent. Waking at dawn, the west wind has blown the dream away, and what it brings down to the human world is, for the most part, cloud.