《弘道錄》Vol. 21

Book Twenty-Eight of the Hongdao lu: The Fivefold Ordering—Ritual

Ritual Between Ruler and Minister

The “Canon of Yao” says: “Yao was solemn and perceptive, refined and thoughtful, calm and composed, truly respectful and modest.”

The Hongdao lu says: Nothing in ritual matters more than reverence. Yao and Shun received Heaven’s Mandate and established the standards for all under Heaven. Historians examined ancient events and weighed their words, using “reverence” to describe honoring Heaven, “respect” to describe cultivating oneself, and “yielding” to describe treating others with ritual propriety. In the end, all of these come down to a single word: “reverence.”

The “Canon of Shun” in the Book of Documents records that Yao examined Shun’s ability to manage affairs and his words, and judged that his recommendations could be put into effect. Three years later, Yao asked Shun to ascend to the imperial throne, but Shun declined to succeed him, saying that his De was insufficient.

The Hongdao lu says: Can great De and achievements truly arise from yielding? Consider the abdication of Yao and Shun, in which an emperor passed the throne to a worthy successor. Heaven’s Mandate and the people’s allegiance had already settled on Shun, yet he repeatedly yielded and did not stop. Later, when Shun appointed the nine high officials, everyone in court yielded to one another, bowing with hands clasped and prostrating themselves in respect, as though afraid they might not yield in time. This was perhaps because those below invariably follow even more strongly what those above esteem.

But is it true that Shun avoided Yao’s son and withdrew to the south of the Nan River? The answer is no. At the time, the “Canon of Shun” merely said that Shun declined the throne on the grounds that his De was insufficient. People fond of embellishment then invented this story on that basis. The “Canons” and “Counsels” in the Book of Documents make the events quite clear. There is no need to pass down doubtful claims as fact.

The “Canon of Shun” in the Book of Documents records that Shun said: “Four Marchmounts, who can devote themselves to their duties, advance the emperor’s affairs, serve as Chief Minister, assist in handling affairs, and coordinate the officials?” They all said: “Bo Yu can serve as Minister of Works.” Shun said: “Good. Yu, govern the waters and lands, and strive to do your work well.” Yu bowed and yielded the appointment to Ji, Xie, and Gao Yao. Shun said: “Good. Go and take up the office.”

The Hongdao lu says: When Shun yielded, he named no one, because the imperial throne was not an ordinary office that could be passed on by yielding. When Yu yielded, he named specific people, because a ministerial office could be yielded to a particular person. Even ten thousand generations later, one can still imagine the harmonious and respectful atmosphere of that time. This was not simply a matter of governing the country through ritual and modesty.

The “Canon of Shun” in the Book of Documents also records that Shun said: “Four Marchmounts, who can preside over my Three Rituals?” They all said: “Bo Yi can.” Shun said: “Good. Bo Yi, serve as Minister of Rites. Be respectful and vigilant morning and evening, upright and clear-minded.” Bo Yi bowed and yielded the appointment to Kui and Long. Shun said: “Good. Go and serve with reverence.”

The Hongdao lu says: What does “upright and clear-minded” mean? To be upright is to be free of crookedness; to be clear-minded is to be free of confusion and defilement. The rites for sacrificing to the heavenly spirits, earthly deities, and spirits of the dead, such as ancestors, each have their established forms and cannot be changed at will. The order of ritual must also be kept clear and cannot be thrown into confusion. To make errors like Emperor Zhenzong of the Song…

To fabricate heavenly scriptures, they falsely claimed to act by the command of the Supreme Lord. They even added honorific titles to the Jade Emperor, with numerous titles that differed from one another. This allowed heretical teachings to spread and flourish, leading people away from the orthodox Way. Emperor Wu of Han established shrines to the Five Emperors, as well as shrines to Taiyi and Houtu. Such a disorderly proliferation of sacrifices brought confusion and irreverence, and caused ritual purity to be lost. It was the duty of the Zongbo, the official in charge of ancestral temple rites in ancient times, to carry out these observances reverently, day and night, without daring to disobey.

The emperor—here, Shun—then sang: “Revere Heaven’s commands; seize the right moment, and handle even the smallest matters with care.” He sang again: “How glad my ministers are to assist me! When the ruler is stirred to action, and every official fulfills his duties, affairs of state will prosper.” Gao Yao, a minister under Shun, bowed with hands clasped and head lowered, then raised his voice to offer counsel: “Keep this in mind! Take the lead in managing affairs, observe the laws carefully, remain mindful and reverent, and examine yourself often. Only then will things be accomplished. Be mindful and reverent!” Shun then sang: “When the ruler is wise and his ministers are worthy, the affairs of state will be settled.” He sang again: “If the ruler is petty and meddlesome, his ministers will grow slack, and all things will fall into decline.” Shun bowed in thanks and said, “Well said. From now on, let us all act with reverence!”

The Record comments: In ancient times, the ruler issued commands and ministers raised their voices in counsel; the ruler sang, and ministers joined in; the ruler bowed, and ministers prostrated themselves. What a splendid scene! The Book of Changes says, “In the Tai hexagram, the small depart and the great arrive; good fortune and success follow.” This means that Heaven and Earth interact and all things flow freely; those above and below meet, and their intentions are understood by one another. Since the Qin dynasty, people have pursued only the exaltation of rulers and the abasement of ministers. From then on, there are no records of rulers bowing to their ministers, no tradition of ministers offering counsel on their own initiative, and still less any sign of rulers and ministers urging one another to remain mindful and reverent. The Book of Changes says, “When Heaven and Earth do not interact, this is the Pi hexagram.” The resulting climate could never again be changed. Alas, how lamentable!

“Deer Call,” in the Lesser Odes of the Book of Songs, is a poem about hosting guests. It says:

“Yoo-oo call the deer, as they eat the duckweed in the fields. I have honored guests, so I play the se and blow the sheng. The sheng pipes sound, their reeds vibrate; gifts are presented. My guests delight in me and point me toward the right Way.

“Yoo-oo call the deer, as they eat the mugwort in the fields. I have honored guests, distinguished in virtue and reputation. They set an example for the people and treat others with respect, worthy of emulation by noble men. I have prepared fine wine; may my guests drink their fill.

“Yoo-oo call the deer, as they eat the yellow cress in the fields. I have honored guests, so I play the se and the qin. The zithers sound in harmony, and we rejoice until we are merry with drink. I have prepared fine wine to feast my guests and gladden their hearts.”

The Record comments: The Yi hexagram concerns nourishment. The sages provided for the worthy, thereby benefiting the people, and enabled the worthy to share the Son of Heaven’s position and enjoy the emoluments bestowed by Heaven. The Xu hexagram concerns waiting. Those of virtue and learning wait calmly for the right moment, nourish their bodies with food, and bring their spirits into harmony through the joy of feasting. The flourishing age of antiquity knew how to nourish and appoint the worthy, and to bring them joy. This was precisely…

From ancient times to the present, people have regarded the Binxing ceremony as an important rite for the flourishing of the state, and our dynasty has valued it especially. The talented and outstanding people of the realm, those entrusted with the mission of their age, are selected through this means.

Yet I privately believe that the central point of this essay is this: when bestowing favors, one must not merely give people private benefits without guiding them toward virtue; and bringing people joy must not become indulgence in pleasure. Its purpose is not simply to nourish people’s bodies and make them feel content. I therefore hope that those appointed as chief examiners will keep these principles in mind and aspire for scholars throughout the realm to become figures such as Wang Zeng and Sima Junshi. Young scholars sitting the examinations, too, should resolve from this day forward to become people like Cheng Hao (styled Mingdao) and Fan Zhongyan (styled Xiwen). Only then will they understand that the court nurtures talent in order to cultivate people of virtue, rather than seeking merely to win people over or indulge them with small private favors.

When the Zhou king comforted the ministers he had sent on missions, he composed the poem “The Four Stallions”:

“Four stallions gallop along, on the long and winding roads of Zhou. Do I not wish to go home? But the king’s affairs are unfinished, and sorrow fills my heart. Four stallions gallop along; the black-and-white horses pant for breath. Do I not wish to go home? But the king’s affairs are unfinished, and I have no time even to sit and rest. The swift dove flies up and down, settling among the dense oak trees. The king’s affairs are unfinished; I have no time to care for my father. The swift dove flies and alights, settling among the dense goji bushes. The king’s affairs are unfinished; I cannot care for my mother. Harness the four black-and-white horses, and let them race ahead. Do I not wish to go home? So I sing this song, hoping someone will carry it back and tell my mother.”

A note in the Hongdao Lu says: When I read “The Four Stallions,” I think of the Zhou king laboring to set the order of the four quarters right, with no time for anything else. “The king’s affairs are unfinished” was meant to awaken loyalty in all the people of the realm; “I have no time to care for my father” was meant to awaken filial devotion; “I have no time even to sit and rest” was meant to awaken steadfastness; “Do I not wish to go home?” was meant to awaken a sense of righteousness; and “hoping someone will tell my mother” was meant to awaken loving care. Comforting the envoys with a banquet and its rites was meant to awaken propriety among the people; expressing their feelings through the recitation of poetry was meant to awaken humility and deference. The poem was used as a song that could be sung by people both above and below. Could this have been done without purpose?

If one holds that this poem merely describes the envoys’ hardships and has nothing to do with setting the order right or cultivating virtue, then why does the Great Learning, at its very beginning, teach people to study poems from the “Lesser Odes of the Book of Poetry,” and take such care to include these particular poems? Were they meant simply for casual singing and listening?

When the Zhou king sent out envoys, he also composed a poem that begins: “Bright are the flowering trees, growing on highlands and low ground; the envoys set out, one company after another…”

Envoys often worry that they will not arrive in time. My horse is still young, and the six reins are damp and supple. I drive swiftly, hurrying from place to place, asking questions and seeking advice along the way. My horse is a fine blue-black steed, its six reins supple as silk; I drive swiftly, hurrying from place to place, asking questions and deliberating along the way. My horse has a white body and a black mane, its six reins gleaming and smooth; I drive swiftly, hurrying from place to place, asking questions and weighing matters along the way. My horse is a pale blue-black steed, its six reins adjusted evenly; I drive swiftly, hurrying from place to place, asking questions and seeking advice along the way.

The Record of Broadening the Way says: This chapter speaks of the Zhou dynasty’s principles of government and standards for ministers’ conduct. It also sets out a principle that applies to those above and below, and a standard shared by ancient and modern times. It is not merely about how an envoy should behave. Yao diligently and tirelessly considered affairs of state, while Shun was so occupied that he had no time to rest. Did they merely fulfill their ministers’ duty by “arriving in time”? Thus Yu of Xia worried that he might not keep up; he looked up to the Great Way, yet felt he had not seen it. King Wen of Zhou worried that he might not keep up; he looked upward in thought, day and night. The Duke of Zhou, too, worried that he might not keep up.

The sense that one cannot keep up makes one humble. Humility leads to tireless diligence and to seeking advice widely from all quarters. There are different ways of asking: asking about good counsel is called “consulting”; asking about worthy people is called “inquiring”; asking about affairs of state is called “deliberating”; asking about ritual is called “measuring”; and asking those close to oneself is called “questioning.” All five kinds of inquiry are made as if one fears falling behind and worries that something may have been overlooked. That is why the words “everywhere” and “broadly” are used: one must consult widely and seek out answers in every direction.

Consider the purpose of these practices. Ensuring that no useful counsel is concealed is “consulting”; not rejecting worthy people among the common folk is “inquiring”; selecting capable ministers and assigning them to suitable posts is “deliberating”; having the lords of the states yield to one another is “measuring”; and identifying those of evident virtue and promoting people of humble origins is “questioning.” How easy are these things to accomplish? Even when this principle is offered as a precept, people may devise sound plans and still have them rejected, while unsound plans are adopted. As the poem “Xiaomin” criticizes, rulers’ partiality and stubbornness plunge the people into confusion; so too did the criticism of the Earl of Rui. Alas, how can one find a minister who is devoted to his duties and never slackens, and discuss with him this principle of always fearing that one may not keep up?

The King of Zhou entertained his ministers with five poems, including “The Deer Call.” The ministers who received his favor sang this poem in thanks to their ruler:

May Heaven protect you and make your foundations firm. May it deepen your beneficence and grant you blessings in full measure. May it increase your good fortune without end, so that all things flourish. May Heaven protect you and grant you perfect blessings, with nothing amiss. May you receive the many blessings bestowed by Heaven; may lasting good fortune descend upon you, as though each day’s share were never enough. May Heaven protect you and make all things flourish, like mountains, hills, ridges, and heights; may blessings flow to you like a river, growing day by day.

Choose a pure and auspicious day, prepare wine and food, and offer them with reverence. In turn, make offerings in spring, summer, autumn, and winter to the ancestors and former kings. The ruler says, “May I grant you life without end.”

The divine spirits descend, bestowing many blessings upon you. The people are simple and sincere, with their daily food and drink assured. Many people regard you as a virtuous ruler. Your virtuous achievements grow toward fulfillment like the moon, and rise gradually like the sun. They endure like the Southern Mountain, neither diminished nor brought down; they flourish like the branches and leaves of pine and cypress, with successors in every generation.

Yang Shi of Guishan says: “The poems beginning with ‘Tianbao’ describe the governance of the court’s inner affairs; those beginning with ‘Caiwei’ describe the governance of external affairs. These all recount how the former kings governed the state, with far-reaching results. Yet when we look at the beginning and end of their deeds, how much effort did they ever expend? Everything rested on sincerity. Today, poems such as ‘Luming’ and ‘Sifu’ were once sung by the former kings when they hosted their ministers at banquets and consoled their envoys. If they had merely sung them, how could these results have come about? We can see that the former kings’ intentions truly lay elsewhere.”

The Hongdao Lu records: “Whenever I read Yang Shi of Guishan’s discussion that ‘everything rested on sincerity,’ I cannot help but straighten my robes and sigh in agreement. Only after the Great Dao has been put into practice and all under Heaven has been made common to all can the later words ‘guide me along the right path’ be more than empty talk. Only when one has the compassionate heart that cannot bear to see others suffer and practices benevolent government can ‘please have my mother come and tell me’ be more than a casual remark or a futile appeal. Only when recommending worthy people is treated as an urgent matter, as though one could not catch up, and heeding good advice comes as smoothly as a round object rolling along, can seeking counsel widely be more than a waste of effort. The verses quoted here all stress that only when words and deeds first arise from a sincere heart can they have real effect.

“Likewise, only when praise for brotherly affection springs from natural feeling rather than forced display is it more than ornamental language. Only when one faithfully fulfills one’s office and cherishes upright people can prayers for the spirits to hear be more than empty words. From this we can see that when ministers receive a ruler’s favor and seek to repay it, how could they fail to make sincerity their foundation?

“The poem says, ‘May blessings be abundant and many, and goodness and beauty increase.’ These are not stock phrases repeated by rote. Its images of the sun rising and the moon waxing, the Southern Mountain’s long endurance, and the luxuriance of pine and cypress are not flattering falsehoods. It regards stability as a blessing bestowed by Heaven, because Heaven’s allotment and the ruler’s fate are linked. It regards longevity as a blessing bestowed by the spirits, because the spirits and the ruler share a common vital breath. It regards the people’s simplicity and stability as the people’s blessing, because the people’s well-being is bound up with the ruler’s governance. These prayers and praises each follow their proper form, and each expresses its wishes in an appropriate way. Even a thousand years later, no one who is loyal to and cherishes the ruler could surpass this expression. A poem like this could indeed have been written only by the Duke of Zhou.”

When the feudal lords came to pay audience on the Son of Heaven, he hosted them at a banquet to show his kindness and generosity. Thus the poem sings: “On the luxuriant mugwort, dew gleams bright. Now that I have seen the noble lord, I can give voice to what is in my heart. We converse and laugh together at the banquet; thus we enjoy a good name and find a settled home.”

The Hongdao Lu records: “‘Good name’ means associating with those above without disrespect and with those below without flattery. ‘Settled’ means dwelling in peace.”

To put people in good spirits and let them feast in peace: this is “compassion.” The ruler regards his ministers as his own limbs and inner circle, treating them as one with himself. This is “favor”: the ministers have drunk the wine and are also filled with kindness received.

In later ages, if guests competed over credit while drinking, or drew their swords and struck pillars, their conduct could not be called proper. Nor was it proper to flee in alarm when music began below. Wang Liao wearing heavy armor and Fan Zeng raising his jade tablet—neither of these acts showed compassion or favor. Can we not glimpse in these poems the fellowship and shared feasting of wise rulers and ministers in the flourishing Zhou dynasty?

A poem describing the Son of Heaven entertaining the feudal lords says:

“Dew lies thick; unless the sun shines upon it, it will not disperse. The night feast is joyful; drink until you are drunk, then return. Dew lies thick, settling on lush grass. The night feast is joyful, held in the ancestral temple, where host and guests show one another respect. Dew lies thick, settling on the wolfberry and jujube trees. The bright and trustworthy gentleman lacks no fine virtue. The paulownia and catalpa trees are lush with branches and leaves, heavy with fruit; the cheerful and unassuming gentleman is dignified in every aspect of his bearing.”

The Hongdao lu records that the “Liao Xiao” depicts a feast and conveys the ruler’s compassion and favor, while “Zhan Lu” depicts a banquet and emphasizes affection for one’s kin. This is what is meant by saying that a ruler is both the feudal lords’ sovereign and their ancestral head. Thus the poem says, “At the ancestral temple, the feast is held.” The meaning of “feast” here may be understood by consulting the “Yan Yi.”

The “Yan Yi” says: When ministers devote all their strength and ability to winning merit for the state, the ruler should reward them. When all the ministers strive to earn merit, the state is secure, and the ruler can live in peace.

Later, when Chen Jingzhong drank with Duke Huan of Qi, he said, “I have only divined about the daytime; I have not yet divined about the night.” This reflects a ruler who failed to guide the people through the proper way, instead indulging in music and dance in the palace and drinking himself into song. Could this have been the ruler’s fault alone? His ministers, too, faced punishment by flogging and tattooing. How could such banquets be compared with the glorious age of Zhou?

The Son of Heaven entertained feudal lords who had rendered meritorious service and bestowed bows and arrows upon them. The accompanying song went:

“The red bowstring is slack. Having received it, keep it safely stored. I have an honored guest, to whom I give it with a sincere heart. The bells and drums have sounded; today I set a feast for him.

“The red bowstring is slack. Having received it, keep it well preserved. I have an honored guest, and my heart is glad. The bells and drums have sounded; today I honor him with wine.

“The red bowstring is slack. Having received it, put it away in its case. I have an honored guest, whom I cherish in my heart. The bells and drums have sounded; today I toast him in return.”

The Hongdao lu records that Lü of Donglai explained: “Having received it, keep it stored” shows that this bow is precious. Bows presented by the bowmakers are kept in the royal storehouse for later bestowal upon those who have earned merit; they cannot be given to just anyone. “I give it with a sincere heart” shows that the ruler truly means to grant the reward, rather than merely going through the motions. “Today I set a feast for him” indicates that both the reward and the banquet are given at the proper time.

The bows and arrows were always handed over to others at once, without any hesitation or reluctance. In later generations, some treated the state treasury as private property and even bestowed weapons from the arsenal on their favorites. They were no different from those who hoarded things and kept them for themselves. If a reward was given neither out of regard for worthy people nor in response to the circumstances of the time, then granting someone an iron certificate in the morning and killing him that evening was no different from never having truly rewarded him. Those who hoard wealth and begrudge rewards to meritorious officials, even refusing to grant them titles until their seals have worn down, are unlike those who promptly feast and reward their worthy officials.

When the Zhou king entertained his guests with food and wine, he sang:

“Lush grows the e grass, in a hollow on the hillside. Seeing a noble lord, I rejoice and honor him. Lush grows the e grass, on the slope of the hill. Seeing a noble lord, joy fills my heart. Lush grows the e grass, on the high mound. Seeing a noble lord, I am granted many treasures. The boat rocks gently, its heavy cargo rising and falling. Seeing a noble lord, my heart is at peace.”

The Hongdao lu records: “Jingjing zhe e” in the Lesser Elegantiae, like “Yupu” in the Greater Elegantiae, is a poem praising worthy people. The “Deer Cry” ceremony was an important occasion for selecting and honoring guests, so zithers, mouth organs, and bamboo baskets and containers for gifts were prepared. This stanza of “Jingjing zhe e” depicts guests being received and gathered together in fellowship, and is therefore full of joy. “Caishu” describes the Zhou king bestowing a full array of gifts on the feudal lords, and so dwells on the abundance of chariots, horses, and ceremonial robes. This stanza portrays the king cherishing humane and worthy people as treasures, using the plentiful quantities of coin and shell currency as a metaphor. “The boat rocks gently” is like the line in another poem, “Waking or asleep, tossing and turning”; “my heart is at peace” is like the line, “Thus King Wen found peace.” From this, one can imagine how flourishing and admirable the Zhou king’s practice of nurturing worthy people was. The account in the Preface to the Odes may also help us understand this poem.

When the Zhou king entertained the feudal lords, he sang:

“Waxwings fly to and fro, their feathers bright and lovely. The noble lord rejoices, receiving Heaven’s blessings. Waxwings fly to and fro, the feathers on their necks bright and lovely. The noble lord rejoices, becoming a shield for the myriad states. The feudal lords are pillars of the state and examples for all the officials. If their conduct is cautious and keeps within the proper bounds, they will receive blessings and riches without end. The cups are curved, the wine mellow. If people treat one another without arrogance, every blessing will come to them.”

The Hongdao lu records: Zheng Xuan explains that “xu” means “all.” Sharing joy with everyone under Heaven is the greatest joy. If the Son of Heaven can ensure that no one within the Four Seas disobeys his commands, the world will be at peace. If a feudal lord can ensure that no one within his domain disobeys his commands, and that there is no trouble within or beyond it, his domain will be at peace. If a great officer can ensure that no one within the offices disobeys his commands, and that the plans he proposes are accepted by his superiors…

The ministers live in comfort and ease. The gentlemen find ease too, advancing and withdrawing in accordance with ritual and righteousness. The common people find ease as well, farming crops and cultivating trees to support their parents, while remaining free from punishment. This helps clarify the meaning of the phrase “joy and ease” (lexu). If it were merely a particle expressing emotion, why not say “joy indeed” (lezhi)? What is more, “joy indeed” occurs frequently in the Book of Songs, while only here do we find “joy and ease.” This calls for careful examination.

The poem “Sanghu,” in which the feudal lords praise the Son of Heaven, says: “Mandarin ducks fly through the air; they can be caught in a net. May the noble lord live ten thousand years, with blessings and good fortune befitting him. Mandarin ducks perch on the fish weir, folding their left wings. May the noble lord live ten thousand years, deserving lasting good fortune. The horses are in the stable; they are fed and groomed. May the noble lord live ten thousand years, in blessing and peace. The horses are in the stable; they are fed and groomed. May the noble lord live ten thousand years, with blessings and good fortune enduring.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: “The ‘Guanju’ begins with ‘The ospreys call out,’ and the whole poem’s meaning unfolds from that image. What meaning, then, does the line ‘Mandarin ducks fly through the air’ convey? The ‘Baiju’ uses direct description to bring out the theme of delight in virtue. What does ‘The horses are in the stable’ bring out? Zhu Xi’s Commentary on the Book of Songs offers no indication of what it explains; nor does the Preface to the Poems provide such an interpretation.

“If we must follow the Preface to the Poems and interpret this as longing for the ancient enlightened rulers, whose dealings with all things were governed by the Way, then it should express how all things follow their own natures, as in ‘The kite flies to the sky.’ Thus, ‘they can be caught in a net’ does not mean that the mandarin ducks are caught only after they have grown up and can fly. To explain this as showing that a ruler deals with all things in accordance with the Way is really forced. As for saying that the ruler provides for himself with restraint, and then using ‘the horses are fed and groomed’ to introduce that idea, the images are even less alike. We therefore should not force the two into a common interpretation.”

A poem in which the Son of Heaven entertains the feudal lords, and they praise him, says: “Fish swim among the water plants, their heads broad. The king is in Haojing, happily drinking wine. Fish swim among the water plants, their tails full. The king is in Haojing, drinking and enjoying himself. Fish swim among the water plants, sheltering beside the rushes. The king is in Haojing, dwelling in peace.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: “One passage of this poem says, ‘The king is in Haojing, happily drinking wine’; another says, ‘The king is in Haojing, dwelling in peace.’ The lines suggest the air of rule through Wuwei (non-action), much like the idea of Shun governing the realm while sitting reverently and facing south. Otherwise, ruler and ministers ought to take this as a warning. How could they instead treat it as praise?

“Some say that the king cares for the people, enabling them to enjoy themselves, and that the king therefore enjoys himself too; this is what the poem means. This interpretation also cannot…”

This scripture passage presents two historical anecdotes that contrast ideal and flawed models of ruler-subject relationships.

The first part cites the Book of Songs to depict the harmonious bond between King Wu of Zhou and his vassals during the Haojing period: The Son of Heaven bestowed lavish gifts upon the feudal lords—including black dragon-embroidered ceremonial robes (xuangun refers to the dragon-patterned ritual attire, fu denoting the decorative motifs) and chariots with fine horses—while the lords maintained utmost reverence (xiefu refers to leg bindings, reflecting ritual propriety). The author criticizes later instances like King Hui of Zhou presenting bronze mirrors to Zheng only to incur resentment, or Duke Wei of Qi paying homage to the Zhou king yet suffering humiliation, both stark contrasts to the mutual respect of King Wu's era.

The second part records how Duke Mu of Shao (Shu Hu) suppressed the Huainan barbarians during King Xuan of Zhou's reign, receiving ritual jade ladles (guizan), black millet wine (juchang), and fiefdoms as rewards. The text particularly highlights Shu Hu's prostration ("tiger bowing and kowtowing") as embodying the Zhou royal house's revival under King Xuan. However, the author laments that Sima Qian's Records of the Grand Historian omitted Shu Hu's account in the "House of Yan" chapter, a mistake perpetuated even in the Book of Songs preface.

Both accounts emphasize that ideal ruler-subject dynamics should mirror King Wu's time—with sovereigns generously conferring honors (luju chengma denoting ceremonial chariots and steeds) and ministers strictly observing ritual decorum (chifu being the red knee-cover, a ceremonial accessory)—as mutual respect ensures enduring blessings. Through historical juxtaposition, the author implicitly critiques the contemporary collapse of ritual propriety.

In the Analects, Confucius says: “When paying a visit to a ruler, it accords with ritual to bow below the hall. Nowadays, they expect me to bow on the hall itself, and that goes too far. Though this goes against what everyone else does, I will follow the old rites and bow below the hall.”

The Hongdao lu explains: This concerns Confucius’s observance of ritual in serving a ruler, and clearly shows the rules handed down from the ancient kings.

After the Zhou dynasty declined, the rites for receiving feudal lords at court fell into disuse, and the King of Zhou instead came down from the hall to meet them. Later, when Duke Huan of Qi became hegemon, the Son of Heaven sent the minister Zai Kong to present him with sacrificial meat and convey this message: “The Son of Heaven remembers your age and your achievements, and has specially granted you the privilege of not coming down from the hall to bow in thanks.” This was no minor breach of ritual.

Confucius established the standards for the relationship between ruler and minister in later generations, and his radiance can be compared to that of the sun and moon. When he composed the Spring and Autumn Annals, every word and every layer of meaning could run counter to the customs of his time. Even great worthies such as Ziyou and Zixia might not have fully grasped it, let alone ordinary people. This is like the “Heaven above, marsh below” image of the “Treading” hexagram in the Book of Changes: a noble person distinguishes the ranks between high and low and steadies the people’s minds. The essential point is not simply whether one should observe or defy a particular ritual.

Someone asked: “If so, when Duke Huan of Qi declined Zai Kong’s arrangement and went down from the hall to bow in thanks, was he not also observing ritual? Why does the Hongdao lu say nothing about this?” The reply was: Duke Huan of Qi was probably only putting on a show with ritual. He acted in the name of benevolence and trustworthiness, and in the name of ritual as well. Even Zai Kong was not taken in by him, so how could a noble person be misled by such behavior?

Confucius says: “If a state can be governed through ritual and deference, what difficulty could there be? If it cannot be governed through ritual and deference, then what use is ritual?”

The Hongdao lu explains: Confucius once mocked Zilu, saying that when he spoke about governing a state, he did not understand deference. “Ritual” is the broad framework for governing a state; “deference” is the genuine inner attitude of humility, of not daring to be complacent. Wherever Confucius went, he was able to learn about the local government. He himself said this was because he was gentle, kind, respectful, frugal, and deferential, and so was able to learn these things.

Without humility that comes from within, however many policies and measures one puts in place, they will be just as Zai Kong’s rebuke suggests: they may seem proper on the surface, but the underlying principles and essential points will soon be lost.

The rulers of the states of Yu and Rui once came to the lands of King Wen of Zhou. They saw farmers yielding field boundaries to one another and travelers giving way to one another on the roads. At court, officers yielded their places to senior officers, and senior officers yielded to ministers. These were all practical examples of governing through ritual and deference. Seeing this, how could the two rulers not feel that they were like petty people, grow ashamed and reproach themselves, and sigh with regret? How could they still have any desire to fight? Later, more than forty states heard of this and submitted to King Wen of Zhou. Clearly, governing through ritual and deference is not merely “without difficulty”; it can also transform states both near and far.

Confucius said, “I serve my ruler with due attention to ritual, yet others take this for flattery.”

The Hongdao lu explains: The service to a ruler spoken of here does not mean Confucius’s service to the ruler of Lu. He observed every ritual in serving the ruler of Lu, and was never thought to be flattering him. The ruler meant here is the ruler of the Eastern Zhou. At the time, people throughout the realm regarded ritual as an ordinary matter. Confucius alone refused to follow common custom and performed the rites below the hall. He once lamented that Lu’s observance of ritual was inferior even to that of other feudal states. As for his wish to preserve the sacrificial sheep used at the monthly gaoshuo rite—a live sheep offered on the first day of each month in a report to the ancestral temple—even Zigong and the others did not agree with him. Was this not a case of others thinking that he went too far in observing ritual, as though he were flattering the ruler? Later, Confucius also said, “If someone were to employ me, I could revive the rites of Zhou in the east.” This, too, did not refer only to Lu. Readers should reflect carefully on this passage.

When Confucius entered the ruler’s palace gate, he bent forward respectfully, as though the doorway were too low for him. He did not stand in the middle of the doorway, nor step on the threshold as he passed through. When he went by the ruler’s seat, his expression immediately became solemn, and his steps grew light and cautious. When he spoke, his voice seemed scarcely sufficient. Lifting the front of his robe to climb into the hall, he bowed and held his breath, as though he hardly dared breathe. After leaving the hall, he descended one step, and only then did his face relax and become pleasant. At the last step he quickened his pace, his bearing composed. Once he returned to his place, he again looked respectful and uneasy. On the first day of each month, he always went to court in his ceremonial robes. When the ruler bestowed food on him, he first arranged his mat properly before tasting it. When the ruler gave him raw meat, he always cooked it before offering it to his ancestors. When the ruler gave him a living creature, he always kept it alive. When dining in the ruler’s company, after the ruler had made the food offering, Confucius would taste a morsel first. When the ruler was ill, he sat facing east. When summoned by the ruler, he put on his ceremonial robes and set out at once, his seal cord trailing, without waiting for his carriage and horses to be made ready.

The Hongdao lu says: These were the rites Confucius followed in serving the ruler of Lu. In the relationship between ruler and minister, solemnity is essential; in court ceremony, respect is essential. The Hongdao lu records these rites as though measuring with a ruler and drawing a circle with a compass: it dares not overstep by a hair’s breadth or stray from the path by a single step. Are these not important principles to be followed for all generations?

The Kongzi jiayu records that Duke Ding of Lu and Duke Jing of Qi met in alliance at Jiagu, where Confucius acted in place of Lu’s master of ceremonies. On arriving at the meeting place, Confucius arranged an altar with three earthen steps. The two sides performed the rites for an audience between feudal lords, bowing to one another as they ascended the altar. After the ceremonies of offering and returning wine were complete, Qi sent Lai men—armed warriors from its borderlands—to seize the ruler of Lu. Confucius advanced up the steps and said to the ruler of Lu, “Warriors, protect your ruler and escort him back!” Then he said, “The rulers of two states have come here to form an alliance of friendship. How can captives from distant borderlands carry weapons and disrupt the meeting? This does not accord with Qi’s ruler’s intention to command the feudal lords. People from remote lands must not plot against the Central States; the Yi must not disturb the Hua-Xia; captives must not interfere in an alliance; and weapons must not be used to threaten a friendly state. In the eyes of the spirits, such conduct is inauspicious; in terms of righteousness, it is a transgression; and in human relations and ritual, it is improper. Your ruler surely would not do this.” Duke Jing of Qi felt ashamed and waved for the warriors to withdraw. A little later, Qi began playing music inside the palace…

An entertainer performed comic tricks before Confucius, and a dwarf was among the performers. Confucius strode forward and said, “A commoner dares to mock and insult a feudal lord in this way. The crime deserves death. Right Marshal, carry out the execution at once.” When the Marquis of Qi heard this, he was frightened, and shame showed on his face.

The Marquis of Qi was preparing to hold a formal banquet. Confucius used Liang Qiuju’s words to persuade him against it: “Qi and Lu have long-standing grievances, and until now they have had no dealings with one another. The matter has already been settled; to hold a banquet now would only burden those responsible for the rites. Moreover, sacrificial oxen and elephant-shaped wine vessels should not be brought out of the ancestral temple, and elegant court music should not be performed in the open countryside. To have all the ritual vessels and musical instruments ready, yet use them in an unsuitable place, is to abandon the rites. If the proper implements are lacking and you make do with chaff and shriveled grain, you will slight your lord and bring the rites into disrepute. Why not think this over carefully?” The Marquis of Qi therefore did not hold the banquet.

After returning home, the Marquis of Qi rebuked his ministers: “Lu assists its lord by the way of the gentleman, while you have insisted on teaching me the way of the barbarians, bringing me to the point of committing an offense.” He then returned the four cities he had seized from Lu, along with the lands of Wenyang.

The compiler of Hongdao Lu comments:

Someone asked, “If Confucius had lived in the age when Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin contended for supremacy, what would he have done?” The answer was: “There is only the slightest difference between becoming a king and becoming a hegemon. Chengzi said, ‘If one follows the kingly way with a sincere heart, one can become a king; if one merely borrows the name of the kingly way, one becomes a hegemon.’ The two paths are different; everything depends on the choice made at the outset.”

Consider the matter now. A sage may reject the exclusion of captives from the borderlands, and others may do so too. A sage may condemn the offense of the dwarf, and others may do so too. A sage may call off the banquet, and others may do so too. But a sage is always sincere in the responsibilities he undertakes, and so will certainly assist his ruler by the way of the gentleman. He is also sincere in the plans he makes, and so will be equipped with both civil and military capacities and will handle every matter with care. In negotiations and meetings to form alliances, his words are truthful and his actions sound, inspiring respect. All his conduct and bearing, from beginning to end, are grounded in human feeling and accord with the Great Way.

He never uses Qi’s failure to send tribute of bao mao reeds as a pretext to disguise a campaign, nor claims that seizing Yuan was meant to demonstrate good faith in order to gloss over his actions. He wins people’s trust and brings Qi to return the cities it seized through the influence of sincerity. He does not behave like Chu, which submitted only on the surface, or like Jin, which forced its way into another state. Could just anyone do this? Without being a sage, it would certainly be impossible. That is why it is said: “Among Zhongni’s disciples, none spoke of the hegemonic enterprises of Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin.”