《弘道錄》Vol. 22

The Rites Between Ruler and Ministers

The Records of the Grand Historian relates that when Han Xin first came over to the King of Han, he often spoke with Xiao He, the chancellor. Xiao He regarded him as a rare talent and recommended him to the king, who appointed him a general. Later, when the king was preparing to summon Han Xin and invest him with the rank of general, Xiao He said, “Your Majesty has always been casual and discourteous. Now you are appointing a general, yet you treat it as casually as if you were calling a child. That is exactly why Han Xin intends to leave. If Your Majesty truly wishes to appoint him, choose an auspicious day, fast, and hold a ceremony at an altar, with all the proper rites. Only then will it do.”

The king agreed. All the other generals were delighted, each thinking he would be made general. But when the appointment ceremony took place, it was Han Xin who received the commission. The whole army was astonished.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, did not value literary learning, yet he was naturally perceptive and capable of acting in this way. He had once soaked and insulted the caps of Confucian scholars, looked down on learned men, and often abused them verbally. There are countless such incidents. If he had disregarded Xiao He’s advice and continued to treat the appointment of a general as child’s play, the people might not have changed their opinion of him, and the generals might not all have been convinced. The king himself, too, would have felt that he had recognized Han Xin too late. How, then, could he have competed with others for all under Heaven? The way to lead generals sometimes lies in changing one’s approach at a crucial moment. Emperor Gaozu’s conduct did not fully conform to the rites of the Three Dynasties, but it was nonetheless an uncommon act of wisdom for its time. That is why this episode is recorded.”

After the King of Han became emperor, he abolished the Qin dynasty’s burdensome rules and ceremonies and replaced them with simpler practices. When the ministers gathered to drink, they argued over their achievements. Once drunk, some shouted wildly and even drew their swords to hack at the pillars. The emperor grew increasingly fed up with this behavior.

Shusun Tong, a Confucian scholar who established court ceremonies in the early Han, advised him: “Confucian scholars cannot easily join together to win an empire, but they can help preserve what has already been won. Allow me to summon Confucian scholars from Lu and, together with my disciples, establish the court ceremonies.”

The emperor asked, “Will this be difficult to put into practice?”

Shusun Tong replied, “The musical systems of the Five Emperors were not alike, and the rites of the Three Kings also differed. Each was adapted to its time and to human needs, establishing suitable rules accordingly. I would like to draw on ancient rites and combine them with Qin ceremonies to establish the court ritual.”

The emperor said, “Very well. First devise a set of rites that is easy to understand and that I can put into practice.”

Two Confucian scholars from Lu refused to go. They said, “The realm has only just been pacified. The dead have not yet been buried, and the wounded have not yet recovered, yet you wish to establish music and ritual. Music and ritual should arise only after a hundred years of accumulated virtuous rule. We cannot bear to do what you are asking. You should leave.”

Shusun Tong laughed and said, “These shallow scholars do not understand how to adapt to changing times.” He then led more than thirty of the men he had summoned westward. When they reached the emperor, he joined them with his own students and their sons and younger relatives, more than a hundred people in all. In the open countryside, they made simple ceremonial objects and ritual structures from reeds and practiced the court audience ceremony.

The Hongdao lu comments: “When I consider the fall of the Qin and the rise of the Han, I find that there were actually these two Confucian scholars from Lu…”

Who says that rare and outstanding worthies cannot appear in a country that prizes ritual? The models revered by Confucians are above all the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. Confucius said, “If a king were to arise, it would still take a generation before benevolence and virtue could flourish.” The ritual and musical institutions of the Zhou dynasty were first established by the Duke of Zhou. This shows that only after a century of accumulated virtue could an undertaking truly prosper.

The Han dynasty’s ritual institutions, moreover, did not begin with a tiny fief and a few writing brushes, gradually laying the foundations of an imperial house. Its circumstances were entirely different from the conduct of Emperor Gaozu of Han, who had once scorned Confucian scholars and tossed their caps into a place of filth. They were also unlike the path of accumulating achievements and widely practicing benevolence. Though the Han possessed generosity, kindness, and broad tolerance, it had not yet made benevolence take root in people’s hearts. Though it could eliminate cruelty, it had not yet spread its beneficence up to Heaven and throughout all lands.

Even with a son like Emperor Wen of Han, it is no wonder that the ritual and musical institutions remained incomplete. And with a later descendant like Emperor Guangwu of Han, where could the Han house’s rites and music be seen? The two Confucian scholars from Lu, who refused to enter office and assist the Han court, could only leave behind their profound sighs. Commentators know that Jia Yi once lamented the likes of Zhou Bo, Marquis of Jiang, and Guan Ying, but they do not know that the court’s discussions of ritual were far less discerning than the views of those two scholars from Lu.

They also fail to realize that the men summoned by the court were either Gongsun Hong or Ni Kuan and Zhu Fuyan, or else Gongsun Qing, Hu Sui, and Sima Qian. Had these men been asked to assist the two emperors in creating institutions for their age, they would have done no more than begin with the system established by Shusun Tong. How could they have laid the foundations of ritual and music? Seen in this light, those two Confucian scholars from Lu were not merely outstanding talents of Lu: they were phoenixes and qilin, the likes of whom the Han dynasty was unlikely ever to encounter again.

After Changle Palace was completed, the feudal lords and officials came to court according to the new rites established by Shusun Tong. At dawn, the usher, an official responsible for guiding those who came to pay their respects, put the proceedings in order and led everyone into the palace hall by rank. Chariots and cavalry, guarding soldiers, and palace guards took their positions; weapons were displayed and banners raised. Meritorious officials and marquises stood in order on the west, facing east, while civil officials, from the chancellor downward, stood on the east, facing west. The court arranged its ceremonial ranks at great length, with the Nine Ushers, officials who received guests and relayed commands during court audiences, calling out and guiding them in turn.

At that moment, the emperor emerged from his private quarters in a carriage. Officials held halberds and called out warnings as they led the feudal kings and, below them, officials receiving stipends of six hundred shi or more forward in turn to offer congratulations. Everyone from the feudal kings downward was struck with awe and behaved with solemn respect. When the rites were complete, all bowed to the ground, and a banquet was then set out. Those seated in attendance in the hall bent their heads and, rising according to rank, offered wine to the emperor. They made nine rounds of toasts. The usher announced the end of the banquet, and the Censors, officials responsible for monitoring court conduct, inspected everyone’s bearing according to the rules. Anyone who failed to observe proper etiquette was immediately escorted away. Throughout the audience and banquet, no one dared to make a disturbance or behave improperly.

Emperor Gaozu of Han was delighted and said, “Only today do I understand how exalted it is to be emperor!”

After Empress Lü died, the ministers welcomed Liu Heng, the Prince of Dai, to court. Seeing the ceremonial procession of Qin Shi Huang on an imperial tour, Liu Heng exclaimed, “A true man should be like this!” Shusun Tong praised him, saying, “Only today have I understood the dignity of being emperor. Judging by his bearing, he may not equal the sagely wisdom of Tang Yao and Yu Shun, and it is hard to say whether he is as upright and trustworthy as the sage kings praised in the Book of Songs.”

On the jiyou day of the ninth month in the eighth year of Empress Gao’s reign, the ministers Chen Ping, Chancellor; Zhou Bo, Grand Commandant; Guan Ying, General-in-Chief; Zhang Cang, Grandee Secretary; Liu Ying, Director of the Imperial Clan; and others, together with Liu Zhang, Marquis of Zhuxu; Liu Xingju, Marquis of Dongmu; and Liu Jie, Director of the Reception Court, jointly submitted a memorial: “Hong and the others are not sons of Emperor Hui, and should not inherit the ancestral temple rites. We have respectfully consulted the Marquis of Yin’an, the Queen Dowager of Qing, the Prince of Langya, the marquises, and officials receiving stipends of two thousand bushels or more. Your Highness is a son of Emperor Gao and is suited to inherit the throne. We respectfully ask Your Highness to ascend at once to the position of Son of Heaven.”

The Prince of Dai replied, “To inherit the ancestral temple of Emperor Gao is a grave matter. My virtue and ability are inadequate, and I fear I cannot bear the responsibility. Please ask the Prince of Chu to consider who is most suitable. I dare not accept.” The ministers all prostrated themselves and persisted in their request. The prince first declined three times while facing west, then declined twice while facing south. Chancellor Chen Ping and the others said, “After repeated consideration, we believe Your Highness is the most suitable person to inherit the ancestral temple of Gaozu. The lords of the realm and the people all think so as well. We are acting for the sake of the ancestral temple and the state, and dare not treat this matter lightly. We respectfully ask Your Highness to comply. We now present the jade seal and tally of the Son of Heaven.” The ministers again bowed and pleaded.

The Prince of Dai said, “The members of the imperial clan, generals and ministers, lords, and marquises all consider me suitable. I truly dare not refuse any longer.” He then ascended the throne.

The Hongdao lu comments: “In observing the rites by which the Prince of Dai was welcomed to the throne, I find the Han dynasty’s bearing worthy of praise. Zhou Bo led the ceremony of welcoming him, while Emperor Wen of Han, Liu Heng, declined the throne. From this we can see that a ruler must not be installed by force. Liu Hong was inside the palace, while the Prince of Dai was outside it; from this we can see that succession cannot be determined solely by an abstract claim of legitimacy. Liu Heng entered Weiyang Palace that evening and stayed in the Front Hall. This shows that the beginning of a reign must be properly ordered. The lords and the people jointly recognized him as heir to the ancestral temple of Emperor Gao. This shows that the line of succession must not be narrowly defined.

“This is precisely the great meaning of the Spring and Autumn Annals. Later, when Huo Guang governed as regent, he sent the Director of the Imperial Clan to welcome Liu Xun, Emperor Xuan of Han, who was then still the emperor’s great-grandson. He had Liu Xun observe purification at the Director’s residence, and only the next day did he enter Weiyang Palace. He was first made Marquis of Wuyang, and only afterward took the throne. In such a case, what purpose could the ritual of declining three times while facing west and twice while facing south possibly serve? The more such writings…”

The more numerous the formalities, the more strained the atmosphere becomes, and the less fitting the conduct between ruler and ministers appears.

After Emperor Wen ascended the throne, Marquis Jiang, Zhou Bo, once left court after the audience. The emperor always bowed respectfully and watched him depart. Yuan Ang, a court gentleman from Anling, remonstrated: “The Lü clan rebelled, and the ministers joined together to destroy them. At the time, the chancellor, Zhou Bo, served as Grand Commandant and held military authority; he happened to be present when the success was achieved. Now the chancellor seems somewhat proud, while Your Majesty humbles himself and yields. This makes the rites between ruler and minister improper. In my private view, Your Majesty’s conduct is not right.” After this, Emperor Wen became more solemn at court, and Zhou Bo grew more respectful and cautious.

The Hongdao lu comments: Emperor Wen was a wise ruler, respectful and frugal, who treated his ministers with propriety. When Xuan Emperor rode in the same carriage with Huo Guang, he felt as if a thorn were pricking his back; the two rulers’ conduct was truly different. It is regrettable that Yuan Ang, a minister of Emperor Wen, failed to fully understand the gracious intent behind his ruler’s humility and deference. Instead, he said the ruler appeared proud. Although Emperor Wen had the qualities of a Yao or Shun, he could not overcome the old habits of men like Han Xin and Peng Yue; in the end, he was still subjected to arrest, imprisonment, and the disgrace of execution. It is possible that Yuan Ang’s words helped bring this about. Alas, with Emperor Wen’s utmost sincerity in governing his ministers, and Zhou Bo’s steady, weighty character, their relationship began with such solemn respect, yet later ended in disaster brought upon Zhou Bo himself. In light of this, how difficult it is for rulers and ministers in later ages to remain true to one another from beginning to end!

Emperor Wen heard that Wu Gong, governor of Henan Commandery, administered affairs with the best record in the realm. He summoned him to court and appointed him Minister of Justice. Wu Gong recommended Jia Yi of Luoyang. The emperor summoned Jia Yi and appointed him Erudite. Jia Yi was then in his twenties. Emperor Wen admired his writing and learning, and within a year promoted him exceptionally to Grand Master of the Palace. Jia Yi proposed revising the calendar’s beginning of the year, changing the color of official dress, establishing titles for offices, and instituting rites and music, in order to create a system for the Han dynasty and replace the old laws of Qin. Emperor Wen humbly deferred, believing there was not yet time to carry this out.

The Hongdao lu comments: This resembles the Small Taming hexagram in the Book of Changes. The firm, vigorous energy of the Qian trigram is held in check by yielding energy. Thus the sages said: “Clouds gather densely, yet no rain falls; the clouds rise from the western outskirts beyond me.” Only when Yin and Yang are harmonized does rain fall; likewise, affairs can be accomplished only when those above and below are in communication. Emperor Wen held the authority to establish a system, yet was content to defer, thinking the time had not yet come. Jia Yi had the talent to bring about change, yet was constrained by the concern that he was still young. Could Heaven have been unwilling, at that time, to bring peace to the realm? Still, a noble person should cultivate refined literary virtue; the work of governing a state and putting moral instruction into practice cannot be completed in a single day. Did Confucius not say, “Do not worry about lacking an official position; worry about what you rely on to establish yourself. Do not worry that others do not know you; strive to become someone worth knowing”? If Jia Yi could have been content with this principle, he should all the more have devoted himself to cultivation and kept his talents from premature display…

Jia Yi, a political thinker of the Western Han, hoped to build up deep reserves and pursue his ambitions over the long term. Were there no rulers who valued preparation and honored worthy men? A ruler like Emperor Wu of Han, who governed by force and strayed far from the virtues expected of an emperor, was probably rare. Yet why, when he lived only into his twenties, did Jia Yi so often show sorrow and anguish, writing works such as “Embracing the Sand” and “Rhapsody on the Owl”? Was this not overly hasty? A short life is not something others find abhorrent.

In his “Policy for Bringing Peace,” Jia Yi said: The ruler’s dignity is like a great hall; the ministers are like its steps; the people are like the ground. If the steps have nine tiers, their upper edge stands far above the ground, and the hall appears lofty. If the steps have no tiers and their edge lies close to the ground, the hall appears low. What is high is difficult to climb and what is low is easy to slight: this follows from the nature of things and the circumstances.

For this reason, the sage kings of antiquity established ranks and distinctions. Within the court were dukes, ministers, officers, and grandees; beyond the court were dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons. Below them came officials and clerks, down to the common people. The ranks were clearly defined, and the Son of Heaven stood above them all, so that no one could rival his exalted position. A popular saying goes, “You want to hit a rat, but you’re wary of the vessel beside it.” This makes the point well: when a rat is near a vessel, people are already wary and dare not strike rashly. How much more so when a high minister stands beside the ruler?

I have heard that even if shoes are brand new, they must not be used as a pillow; and even if a hat is worn out, it must not be used as a footrest. A minister once held high office and enjoyed the ruler’s favor; the Son of Heaven once treated him with solemn respect, and the people once bowed before him in awe. If he now commits an offense, he may be stripped of office, dismissed, granted death, or executed. But to bind him, escort him to the judicial offices, assign him to a labor gang, and let petty clerks curse and beat him is surely not an appropriate way to set an example for the people.

If those of low station grow accustomed to seeing the honored brought low overnight and learn that they, too, may treat them this way, it will not encourage a custom of respect for the highborn. When ministers of antiquity were found guilty of corruption and dismissed, people did not say directly that they were “corrupt,” but said that “the ritual vessels were not in good order.” When they were found guilty of shameful conduct and sexual misconduct, people did not call them “depraved and licentious,” but said that “the inner curtains were not properly maintained.” When they were found guilty of weakness and inability to fulfill their duties, people did not say they were “incompetent,” but said that “the subordinate officials had failed in their duties.”

If a ruler treats his ministers with a sense of shame and with ritual propriety and righteousness, but they do not repay him with integrity and good conduct, then they are not behaving as virtuous people should. When instruction has thus taken hold and customs have been brought to order, ministers will all attend to their conduct and forget their private interests, holding fast to integrity and relying on what is right. The ruler can entrust them with authority he does not personally exercise, and can even entrust them with an orphaned child still young in years. This is how ministers are strengthened in their integrity…

A sense of shame is the foundation of observing ritual and righteousness. When someone fails to do what plainly ought to be done, then turns instead to dredging up old affairs and blaming others, this is why people say, “Nothing is more lamentable.”

Jia Yi noted that Zhou Bo, the Marquis of Jiang, had earlier been arrested and imprisoned, only for it later to become clear that there was no solid evidence against him. Jia Yi used this case to criticize the emperor. The emperor took his advice seriously and began to pay attention to treating his ministers with due restraint. From then on, even when ministers were guilty of offenses, they were no longer subjected to punishment so readily.

The Hongdao lu comments: Jia Yi’s words were later borne out, and the emperor did indeed accept his advice. If so, why not say that Wu Gong’s achievements in governing were the best in the realm? If Wu Gong failed to meet the standards set out above, then the person who recommended him should bear responsibility. The Han court’s rites were not necessarily as careless and crude as later generations have imagined. The age was still close to antiquity, and there must have been people able to explain the institutions and functions of the Rites of Zhou. Later, the calendar and ceremonial colors were changed and differentiated, but the names of offices and the systems of ritual and music could never again be seen in later generations. Is this not a regret for all ages? Should Zhou Bo, the Marquis of Jiang, and Guan Ying not bear grave responsibility for this?

When Shentu Jia was prime minister, Deng Tong enjoyed the emperor’s favor and received gifts worth tens of thousands, with no one else so greatly favored. Once, when Shentu Jia attended court, Deng Tong was at the emperor’s side and behaved disrespectfully, failing to observe proper decorum. Shentu Jia submitted a memorial: “Your Majesty may favor ministers and make them wealthy and honored, but at court, ritual must be observed with due seriousness.” After court, Shentu Jia sat in the prime minister’s residence and sent a formal summons ordering Deng Tong to appear there; if he failed to come, he would be beheaded.

Afraid, Deng Tong appealed to the emperor for help. The emperor said, “Just go.” Deng Tong went to the prime minister’s residence, took off his hat, went barefoot, and kowtowed in apology. Shentu Jia remained seated, made no gesture of courtesy, and rebuked him: “The court is the court established by the Gao Emperor (Liu Bang). You are a mere petty official, yet you dare to play around in the hall. This is the gravest disrespect, and you deserve execution.” He ordered the officials to carry out the punishment according to the law. Deng Tong kowtowed until his forehead bled, but Shentu Jia still refused to pardon him. The emperor judged that the prime minister had driven Deng Tong to the brink, so he sent an envoy bearing the imperial tally to summon Deng Tong back, explaining to the prime minister: “He is one of my close attendants. Please spare him.” When Deng Tong returned to the emperor, he wept and said, “The prime minister nearly killed me.”

The Hongdao lu comments: When I consider Shentu Jia’s conduct, I cannot help but marvel that the Han court’s rites could still be upheld at that time. A “court favorite” is someone who enjoys a ruler’s special favor and power. Such people are often beset by visitors seeking favors, and may also serve as conduits for influence within the court. If senior ministers fail to stand firm, they will often submit at the first sign of pressure—how much more so when faced with a strong, arrogant, and discourteous man? Without a minister of unwavering virtue who can assist the ruler, how could court decorum be set right and ministers’ breaches of propriety and overreach be stopped?

Did Emperor Xiaowen’s benevolence ultimately go unfulfilled? When Dong Xian usurped the position of one of the Three Excellencies and severed the succession of the Han imperial line, everyone, from top to bottom, accepted it willingly. How, then, could one expect anyone to uphold integrity and step forward to remonstrate? Although schools were established at the time and the Biyong—the ancient university founded by the Son of Heaven—was completed, this does not mean that people truly understood ritual.

During Emperor Wu’s reign, the general Wei Qing held a lofty position and enjoyed the emperor’s deep favor. The emperor sometimes received him while seated in the privy. When summoning the chancellor Gongsun Hong, he sometimes did not even wear his cap. But when Ji An came to see him, if the emperor was not wearing his cap, Ji An refused to be received. On one occasion, the emperor was seated in his military tent when Ji An came forward to present a memorial. The emperor had no cap on. Seeing Ji An from a distance, he retreated behind a screen and had someone approve the memorial. Such was the respect Emperor Wu showed Ji An.

The Hongdao Lu comments: This incident shows that Emperor Wu already had a good impulse in his heart. This is what is meant by “knowing without learning and being able without deliberation”; it was not something contrived through effort. Had he been able to extend and enlarge this impulse, he could have used it in serving Heaven. Sadly, he could not carry it through in everything he did. Gongsun Hong’s suspicion and Ji An’s resentment and jealousy disappeared along with that good impulse. This was a common failing from the Han and Tang onward. How could people who are “trustworthy and respectful, and able to yield” not become rare and hard to find?

In the fifth year of the Yuanshuo era, Emperor Wu issued an edict: “I have heard that ritual should guide the people, and music should transform them. Now ritual is in disrepair and music has fallen into neglect, and I am deeply concerned. I command the officials in charge of ritual to examine music and restore the rites, setting an example for all under Heaven.” The chancellor Gongsun Hong and others thereupon submitted a memorial requesting the establishment of official posts for Erudites, with fifty students to be enrolled and exempted from labor service. The Grand Master of Ceremonies was to select commoners over eighteen who had a dignified appearance and appoint them as Erudite students, to study under his supervision. Those who mastered at least one canonical discipline were to be appointed to posts such as literary official or archivist; anyone of exceptional talent was to be reported to the court at once. Emperor Wu approved the proposal. From then on, many among the high ministers, officials, and functionaries gradually became refined and well versed in the classics.

The Hongdao Lu comments: When Emperor Wu first took the throne, he appointed Zhao Wan and Wang Zang, but abandoned the effort because the Empress Dowager disliked Confucian learning. Later, he again sought out men of literary learning and talent from across the realm, but the effort was not pursued further because Sima Xiangru excelled at fu poetry and Gongsun Cheng, courtesy name Gaoshuo, was known for his wit. By this time, the emperor wanted to guide the people through ritual and set an example for all under Heaven. This was precisely the moment when Shen Gong could have vigorously advanced his Confucian program. Why, then, did Gongsun Hong establish only such posts as Erudite students, literary officials, and archivists? Even if their numbers were considerable, what effect could they have? If Jia Yi had still been alive then, with his proposals for changing customs and leading the people of the realm to turn back toward the Dao…

Doing so would surely have achieved something extraordinary, rather than merely carrying on the institutions of the Taichu era. Sadly, the Prince of Changsha never returned, and skewed doctrines flourished. Gongsun Qing, Hu Sui, and the others were thus left free to promote their own ideas. Their discussions of founding institutions and establishing new beginnings amounted, in the end, to nothing but long-winded talk. Alas!

The Book of Rites records that after Emperor Wu of Han took the throne, he recruited men learned in Confucian teachings to devise ritual together, but even after more than ten years they had not finished. Someone said that in ancient times, when the realm was at peace and the people lived in harmony, auspicious signs appeared one after another. The customs of different regions were then gathered, institutions established, and reports submitted to the court. After hearing this, Emperor Wu issued an edict to the Censor-in-Chief, saying: “Perhaps everyone who receives the Mandate of Heaven and becomes king has a different reason for rising to power. The paths may differ, yet in the end they reach the same destination. This is what is meant by adapting to the people when creating institutions and following local customs when setting rules. Those who debate the matter all say that no one can say what people were like in the most ancient times. The Han, too, is a great enterprise that has unified the realm, but the old statutes and institutions have not been handed down. What, then, are later generations to do? Those who bring education to flourishing are broadly learned; those whose learning is shallow have narrow understanding. Should we not strive to do better?” In the first year of Taichu, Emperor Wu therefore revised the calendar’s New Year’s Day, changed the official color of dress, performed the Feng and Shan rites on Mount Tai, and established the ceremonies for the imperial ancestral temple and the officials. He made these permanent regulations and handed them down to later generations.

The Hongdao lu comments: “In my view, the arguments of the Confucian scholars in Emperor Wu of Han’s time were seriously mistaken. By then, nearly a hundred years had passed since the founding of the Han. The people were honest and simple, almost to the point where punishments could be abolished. Even if the two reclusive Confucian scholars had returned to public life, this would have been just the time to accomplish something. Why, then, did everyone need to put forward a different scheme? Xu Le and Ni Kuan, who lived at the time, can be said to have made insightful arguments. Xu Le said that an enlightened ruler can perceive on his own the source of all changes in the world. Ni Kuan said that the Son of Heaven should establish the highest standard of uprightness and harmony, one that brings all affairs together and guides them, like the sound of bells and stone chimes, reviving the Kingly Way. Emperor Wu hesitated and failed to bring this about promptly only because his desires were too many. More than ten years later, he resolutely changed the Xia calendar’s New Year’s Day and corrected the harmful customs inherited from the Qin. This, too, shows that he had exceptional talent and ambition. Such deeds cannot be compared at all with those endless, fussy debates about institutions.”

During the reign of Emperor Xuan of Han, Wang Ji, an official who remonstrated with the throne, submitted a memorial saying: “Your Majesty devotes himself to considering the affairs of the realm and hopes to restore an age of peace. Each time an edict is issued, the people rejoice as though they had been given new life. I have privately reflected that this may be called a tremendous kindness, but it still does not mean the root has been grasped. Rulers resolved to bring order to the realm are rare. The ministers and high officials are fortunate to live in such an age, when their advice can be accepted and their remonstrations heeded. Yet no one has proposed a long-term strategy that could be handed down for ten thousand generations, nor has anyone been able to assist an enlightened ruler in attaining the flourishing of the Three Dynasties. They are occupied only with checking registers, hearing cases, and listening to lawsuits. This is not the way to bring about peace…”

Gong Yu—the name here should be Gong Ji or Gong Ji, referring to the memorialist—submitted a memorial, saying: “I have heard that no method is better than ritual for securing the ruler and bringing good government to the people. Therefore, before a sovereign governs the realm through ritual, he should draw upon those parts of the rites of former kings that suit the present age and put them into practice. I hope Your Majesty will follow the established rites, make the institutions of the emperors clear, and guide the people of the realm toward benevolence and long life. Why, then, should our customs fall short of the age of Kings Cheng and Kang, or our lifespans fall short of that of Emperor Gaozong of Yin?” The emperor, however, considered his words pedantic and empty. Wang Ji then pleaded illness, resigned from office, and returned home.

The author of the Hongdao lu comments: Wang Ji’s memorial met this fate because when the realm is on the verge of great renewal, rites and music serve a practical purpose; when it is on the verge of decline, they are merely empty forms. Emperor Xuan praised Wang Cheng and rewarded Huang Ba, placing importance on examining whether names matched realities. How could he have been willing to restore the old rites and clarify the institutions of kingship? He even considered Wang Ji impractical. When, in Emperor Cheng’s reign, the Biyong—the imperial university—was finally built, schools established, ceremonies of bowing and yielding displayed, and dress and appearance put in order, what good did that do? We can see from this that a ruler who is constantly occupied, with no time to spare, and whose plans are far-reaching is the true foundation of good government. By contrast, the fine details of elaborate and cumbersome ceremony, when the vital energy of the age has already vanished, are merely the last concerns of a declining era.

The Zizhi Tongjian Gangmu records that in the fifth year of Jianwu, Emperor Guangwu began building the Imperial Academy and went there in person to inspect it. He examined and followed ancient institutions, restored rites and music to order, and brought the cultural and institutional forms of the age to a fresh and impressive state.

The author comments: In the fourth year of Yuanshi, under Emperor Ping, the Biyong had already been built. Why is that not recorded here, while this event from Emperor Guangwu’s reign is? Emperor Guangwu was committed to restoring ancient rites: within the court he established schools, and beyond it he summoned worthy men who had withdrawn from public life. These were things the Western Han had not managed to accomplish. And because he did so amid urgent warfare and rampant banditry, his efforts deserve particular praise. Yet when Emperor Guangwu was young, he had studied alongside Yan Guang. When Yan Guang was sought out and brought before him, he was clearly no ordinary man, and others too admired and trusted him. Why did the emperor not appoint him to teach at the Imperial Academy? A ruler and a teacher, equal in virtue and both renowned in their age, should surely have been a fitting pair. Instead, Yan Guang was retained only as an Admonition Grandee. I do not know what sort of person could then have served as the exemplary teacher of an entire generation. In my view, no one surpassed Yan Guang.

In the first month of the first year of the Zhanghe era, Emperor Suzong summoned Cao Bao to the Jiade Gate. He handed him the twelve chapters of Han Ceremonies, by Shusun Tong, which Ban Gu had submitted, and instructed him: “These institutions are disordered and incomplete, and for the most part do not accord with the meaning of the classics. You should now revise them on the basis of the books on ritual so that they can be put into practice at the Southern Palace and the Eastern Observatory. Give this compilation your full attention.” Cao Bao accepted the command and arranged the ceremonial matters in sequence. Following earlier texts and incorporating passages from the Five Classics, apocryphal writings, records, and biographies, he composed and organized the various institutions of ritual, from those governing the Son of Heaven downward.

During the Han dynasty, Bao, a scholar of ritual, compiled 150 memorials setting out the ceremonial rules for commoners’ capping and wedding rites, as well as auspicious rites, inauspicious rites, funerary rites, and other ceremonies, from beginning to end.

After Emperor He of Han took the throne, Bao wrote explanatory notes on the Classics for him. The emperor then adopted one of these texts, concerning new rites, as the record of the capping ceremony.

The Hongdao lu says: “During the Han dynasty, Shusun Tong established the rites, a matter over which a gentleman could hardly avoid feeling some regret. Bao, too, admired Shusun Tong and studied ritual rules day and night. He kept his writing brush and wooden tablets beside him while he slept, and practiced writing as he walked. When he set about composing rites, he mixed in material from the Five Classics and from prophetic writings—texts that predicted fortune and misfortune and claimed to reveal Heaven’s intent. What he wrote was therefore no longer Shusun Tong’s ritual text, but a system devised by the ruler of his own time.”

The roots of ritual lie in Heaven, and ritual is also expressed in the human heart. The Sage summed it up in a single phrase: “There is nowhere one is not reverent.” Bao concentrated and reflected so deeply that, when absorbed in thought, he even forgot where he was. Surely this state came close to “there is nowhere one is not reverent.” The sayings that his bearing was solemn, as though he were thinking, and that his words were calm and assured may have some merit. But prophetic writings and the like cannot serve as models for ritual.

The Treatise on Rites and Music in the Book of Tang says: “Before the Three Dynasties, the principles for governing all under Heaven were unified, and rites and music were practiced throughout the realm. After the Three Dynasties, the basis of governance split in two, and rites and music became empty names.”

In ancient times, palaces and carriages served for dwelling and travel; garments, crowns, and caps for dressing; wine vessels and sacrificial stands for ritual offerings; and bells, stone chimes, strings, and bamboo instruments for music. People used rites and music to make offerings at the suburban altars and ancestral temples, govern the court, honor the spirits, and bring peace to the people. They gathered at the appointed times for court audiences and diplomatic visits. They strengthened social ties through village archery rites and banquets. They organized the people and advanced public affairs through military exercises, hunts, and schooling. From life in villages and fields to the people’s everyday joys, sorrows, celebrations, and mourning, nothing was outside the scope of ritual.

Through ritual, people taught the people filial devotion, compassion, fraternal respect, loyalty, trustworthiness, benevolence, and righteousness. This moral teaching was woven into daily life: into dwelling and movement, every gesture, clothing, and food. Everything people did from morning to night was connected with ritual. This is what is meant by unified principles of governance and rites and music practiced throughout the realm. People across the land settled into this way and followed it in their daily lives, without feeling that they were moving toward goodness and away from wrongdoing. Over time, good customs took shape.

After the Three Dynasties fell, the Qin changed the ancient institutions. From then on, successive rulers governed the realm by continuing Qin practices, from the titles and ranks of the Son of Heaven and the officials to the institutions of the state, carriages of the court, clothing, and implements. Some rulers did want to govern well and make reforms, but they could not rise above the customs of their time to trace and restore the institutions that had existed before the Three Dynasties. They could only accommodate their own age, making minor additions to and subtractions from the old system. In general, they were content with keeping things simple and convenient. As for what occupied them in daily life, it was documents and account books…

The Comprehensive Mirror records that in the first month of spring in the first year of the Zhenguan era (627), Emperor Taizong of Tang held a banquet for his ministers. During the feast, the “Music of the Qin Prince’s Victory over the Battle Formation” was performed. Taizong said, “In the past, when I was ordered to lead troops in battle, this piece became popular among the people. Although it is not as stately and peaceful as the music of civil virtue, it is connected with the achievements we established, and I dare not forget it.” Feng Deyi said, “Your Majesty brought peace to the realm through martial valor. How could civil virtue compare?” Taizong replied, “Force is needed to quell disorder; civil governance is needed to preserve what has been established. Civil and military measures each have their proper time. To say that civil governance is inferior to military achievement goes too far.”

The Record of the Vast Way argues that Ouyang Xiu’s discussion was exceptionally perceptive by the standards of all ages. The ancient kings established ritual institutions by taking the principles they had practiced themselves and using them to distinguish ranks and settle the people’s minds. They also used the guiding order of ritual to honor Heaven and Earth and bring harmony to the people. Ritual is rooted in one’s own nature and feelings; from this root, standards of conduct are established, joining principle with practical application. How could such rule through ritual fail to come from a single foundation? How could it fail to be coherent and far-reaching?

After the Qin dynasty, governance lost its foundation in Heavenly virtue and its practice of the Kingly Way, and people no longer knew how to arrange ritual standards. Worse still, they failed to show respect in the gestures of advancing and withdrawing in ritual, and social order itself lost its coherence. Violations of virtue became increasingly common among ruler and minister, father and son, elder and younger brother, and husband and wife. How, then, could a balanced and harmonious standard be established, so that ritual, music, punishments, and government orders would no longer each operate on their own? This is the source of the division between order and disorder in ancient and modern times, and the beginning of the flourishing or decline of ritual and music. Those in positions of authority must understand this clearly.

The Record of the Vast Way goes on to comment: Confucius once assessed the “Wu” music, saying that although it was beautiful, it had not yet attained complete goodness. King Wu of Zhou used military force in accordance with Heaven’s will to pacify the realm. Later, the Duke of Zhou established ritual and made music, yet Confucius still regretted that it had “not attained complete goodness.” Although Emperor Taizong of Tang had quelled the disorder at the end of the Sui dynasty, he still had many shortcomings in virtue; the results of his political reforms could only be said to have brought the realm some measure of stability. Feng Deyi, however, merely flattered Taizong by echoing his words, even claiming that ritual and music were inferior to punishments and administration, and that military achievement surpassed civil virtue. He was wrong, and later generations mocked him for it.

In the autumn of the sixth year of the Zhenguan era, in the seventh month, Taizong held a banquet in the Danxiao Hall for his close officials. Changsun Wuji said, “Wang Gui and Wei Zheng were once your enemies. Who would have thought that today they would sit at the same banquet as the rest of us?”

Taizong said, “Wei Zheng and Wang Gui both devoted themselves to their duties, so I appointed them. But whenever Wei Zheng remonstrates with me and I do not accept his advice, he says no more. Why is that?”

Wei Zheng replied, “I believe the matter is wrong, and that is why I remonstrate. If Your Majesty does not listen and I still voice my agreement, the matter will go ahead all the same. So I do not dare to answer.”

Taizong said, “What would prevent you from answering and then continuing to remonstrate?”

Wei Zheng replied, “In ancient times, Shun warned his ministers: ‘Do not agree with me to my face, then say something different after you have withdrawn.’ If I know in my heart that a matter is wrong, yet agree with Your Majesty in words, I would be agreeing to your face. How could that be what Ji and Xie intended when they assisted Shun?”

Taizong laughed aloud and said, “People say Wei Zheng is rough and disrespectful in his manner. In my eyes, the more I see of him, the more endearing he becomes. It is precisely because of this.”

Wei Zheng rose and bowed in thanks. “Your Majesty is willing to let me speak, and so I can express all my foolish opinions. If Your Majesty refused to hear me, how would I dare repeatedly offend you to your face?”

The Hongdao lu comments: When I read the Zhongfu hexagram in the Book of Changes, which speaks of sincerity and trustworthiness, and then consider Wang Gui and Wei Zheng’s choices of when to enter and withdraw from public life, I cannot help but sigh. A person in seclusion is not suited to take on the affairs of state. When Wei Zheng and Wang Gui served a new ruler, it was like the Zhongfu hexagram’s image of “a cock’s crow rising to heaven”—a sound that cannot last long. Later, they suddenly changed their minds: the wise turned to serve a wise ruler, and the decisive assisted a decisive ruler. This is just what the hexagram’s text says: “The crane calls in the shade; its young answer. I have fine wine, and I will share it with you.” How could they fail to serve their ruler with all their hearts?

If they had not encountered an enlightened ruler, they might have ended up as captives, in a lowly position. As the text says, “When one meets a worthy opponent, sometimes one beats the war drum and advances, sometimes one stops; sometimes one weeps, sometimes one sings.” Even Wei Zheng could not help showing his frank and endearing character. Is this not a gentleman’s good fortune?

In the spring of the seventh year of the Zhenguan era, in the first month, Taizong held a banquet at Xuanwu Gate and had the Seven Virtues and Nine Achievements Dance performed. The dance was originally called “The Qin King Breaks the Battle Formation”; later, its name was changed to “The Dance of Seven Virtues.” Xiao Yu, Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, felt the dance did not yet fully depict the campaigns, and requested that it also portray the capture of Liu Wuzhou, Xue Rengao, Dou Jiande, and Wang Shichong.

Taizong said, “They were all heroes of their time, and some officials at court once pledged allegiance to them. If these officials were to see their former lords captured, how could they not feel sorrow?” Xiao Yu then realized that he had not considered the matter carefully and apologized to Taizong.

Wei Zheng wanted Taizong to cease military campaigns and improve civil governance. So whenever the Seven Virtues Dance was performed at a banquet, he always lowered his head and did not watch. It was only when he saw the Nine Achievements Dance performed that he watched attentively.

Mencius said, “Which is more enjoyable: appreciating music alone or appreciating it with others?” King Xuan of Qi replied, “It is more enjoyable to appreciate it with others.” Mencius then asked, “Which is more enjoyable: appreciating music with a few people or with many?” The king replied, “It is more enjoyable to appreciate it with many.”

Emperor Taizong of Tang, too, seems to have known how to share enjoyment with others and with the people at large. Wei Zheng did not go on to explain what these words meant, but lowered his head and looked away. Was he not reflecting on how Mencius had guided King Xuan?

In the twelfth year of the Zhenguan era, Taizong returned to the palace and held a banquet in the Eastern Palace for officials of the fifth rank and above. He said, “Before Zhenguan, Fang Xuanling helped me plan the affairs of the empire. Since Zhenguan began, Wei Zheng has corrected my faults and set my errors right.” He then gave each man a ceremonial sword.

Taizong also asked, “How does my record in government compare with previous years?” Wei Zheng replied, “In the past, Your Majesty worried that the empire was not yet well governed, so your virtue and sense of right grew day by day. Now, because you feel at ease that the empire is at peace, you are not as good as you were at the beginning of Zhenguan. In the past, you worried that no one would offer remonstrance, and often urged everyone to speak. You were glad to hear their views and accept them. That is no longer the case. Though you may reluctantly follow advice, your face still shows your displeasure. That is the difference.”

Taizong said, “Can you give me an example?” Wei Zheng replied, “Once, Your Majesty wanted to execute Yuan Lüshi. Sun Fuga argued that the law did not warrant a death sentence. Your Majesty then awarded him the garden of Princess Lanling. When someone said the reward was too generous, Your Majesty replied, ‘Since I took the throne, no one has offered me remonstrance, so I am rewarding him.’ This was how you actively encouraged your ministers to speak up. Later, when Liu Xiong, an official in charge of household affairs, made a false accusation, Your Majesty wanted him executed. You changed your mind only after listening to Dai Zhou’s advice; that was a case of gladly accepting counsel. Recently, when Huangfu Deshen urged you not to build a palace in Luoyang, Your Majesty was very angry. You stopped the construction after I advised you, but you did so reluctantly.” Taizong said, “Without you, no one could have put these matters so clearly. The hardest thing for a person is to know himself.”

The Hongdao lu comments: The patterns of fortune and misfortune, growth and decline, described in the Book of Changes can also show how a ruler’s attitude toward his ministers’ remonstrances changes, and what gains and losses follow. Emperor Gaozu of Han was good at hearing different views and treated his ministers with an open mind. Those who served the Han dynasty wholeheartedly were precisely the people he had not employed when he was in Chu. The Book of Changes says, “The solemn ox sacrifice of the eastern neighbor is not as good as the simple spring offering of the western neighbor; the western neighbor receives the blessing.” This may be speaking of Emperor Gaozu of Han.

The Tang dynasty learned from the Sui dynasty’s fall. Taizong used generous rewards to encourage his ministers to serve faithfully. Those who served the Tang dynasty with loyalty were precisely the people who had once flattered and fawned on others elsewhere. The Book of Changes says, “He does not meet his grandfather, but meets his grandmother; he does not regard the ruler as his father, but meets his minister.” This may be speaking of Emperor Taizong of Tang.

Yet continually increasing rewards alone cannot sustain a minister’s loyalty for long. Only by acting justly and impartially, and treating everyone with an unselfish heart, might a ruler avoid the fault of being diligent at first and slackening later.

During Taizong’s reign, the ruler and his ministers feasted together without becoming lax or arrogant through indulgence in music, women, and amusement. Taizong always listened calmly to remonstrance, and they encouraged one another to advance civil governance. He truly understood what it meant to strengthen oneself. This is why the Zhenguan era—the period of good government under Emperor Taizong of Tang—is especially worthy of praise.

On the guihai day in the eighth lunar month of the seventeenth year of the Kaiyuan era (729), Emperor Xuanzong of Tang held a banquet for his officials beneath the Hua’e Tower to celebrate his birthday. The left chief minister, Yuan Qianyao, and the right chief minister, Zhang Yue, led the officials in submitting a memorial. They asked that the fifth day of the eighth lunar month be designated “Mid-Autumn Festival,” proclaimed throughout the empire, and marked each year with banquets and amusements.

The Hongdao lu comments: When ministers attend a banquet on their ruler’s birthday, they do so out of respect and admiration. To offer birthday blessings is an expression of their loyal affection. The Tang court did nothing excessive in this regard. However, Zhang Yue and Yuan Qianyao did not make their proposal out of sincere conviction. When Xuanzong held a banquet and bestowed a feast, they simply went along with the occasion to please the emperor. This was unlike the sincere birthday congratulations offered by ministers during the Tianbao era. In the second lunar month of the following year, Xuanzong ordered the officials to choose scenic places for outings. That came close to indulging in pleasure and neglecting government affairs. It would be fitting to observe ritual propriety by honoring the emperor’s birthday as the “Longevity Festival,” while specifically abolishing the practice of having officials choose scenic spots for recreation.

When Emperor Suzong of Tang took the throne at Lingwu, he had fewer than thirty civil and military officials around him. The court was newly established, and its institutions were not yet complete. Military commanders were arrogant and unruly. The senior general Guan Chongsi sat in court with his back to the palace, chatting and laughing as if nothing were amiss. Supervising Censor Li Mian submitted an impeachment against him and referred his case to the appropriate office. Suzong had initially intended to pardon Guan Chongsi, but then sighed, “With Li Mian, the court has finally regained its dignity.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Ever since Taizong’s principles of governance ceased to be upheld, the ancestral temples and altars of state of the Tang dynasty have been thrown into turmoil. Li Mian upheld the tradition of valuing civil governance and honoring the Way of the sages; his character was far beyond the ordinary. He defended the court’s dignity, and especially in those circumstances, it could not be maintained through words and social courtesies alone. The emperor had to understand that receiving the Mandate of Heaven was no light matter, and that even the slightest warning signs must not be ignored. Li Mian should have been entrusted with important responsibilities, so that he could promptly impeach wrongdoing and the emperor could deal with it decisively. This would have curbed the arrogance of fierce military commanders, prevented junior generals from bullying their superiors, and stopped soldiers from deciding whether a military governor should be appointed or deposed. Otherwise, the later calamities of separatist military governors would have their roots in this. Those who know only how to indulge and appease, mistaking tolerance for benevolence, fail to see how disaster can gradually grow. Even with Li Mian alone, how much could he have done to save the Tang dynasty? The emperor’s special pardon of Guan Chongsi also reveals something about the Tang dynasty…

What a pity—this kind of reverence did not continue afterward.

The Old Book of Tang, in the Annals of Emperor Dezong, records that Emperor Dezong honored Guo Ziyi with the title “Bushi” and called him “Shangfu” (an honorific for a meritorious elder). The edict said:

Heaven and Earth rely on the movement of the four seasons to bring all things to completion, while the ruler relies on his “thigh-and-arm” ministers (a metaphor for capable assisting ministers) to help govern the state. The great responsibilities of military and political affairs are borne by the chancellor, and government affairs are passed down through generations: above, he harmonizes the sun, moon, and stars; below, he shelters the Five Peaks; with loyalty and trust he assists the ruler, stabilizes the four directions, and inherits the heavy task of guarding the state. Such a person receives the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth and upholds the virtue of loyalty and single-minded devotion.

His merits are exceedingly great, yet he does not boast of himself; the higher his position, the more secure he becomes. To honor him with the title “Shangfu” is to model it on the name of Jiang Taigong (Lü Wang); to place him in the honored position of “Teacher” is to raise him to the status of the Duke of Zhou. Guo Ziyi, Prince of Fenyang Commandery, is a hero sent down by Heaven, endowed by nature with the talent to assist the ruler. He trained officers and soldiers as if teaching his own children, judged enemy conditions with remarkable prescience, and helped Emperor Suzong restore the state.

When the state met with disaster, he labored to pacify the crisis; when enemies threatened the borders, his strength was relied upon to drive them out. In stabilizing the altars of state, even Zhou Bo, Marquis of Jiang, could not compare with him; in subduing the Qiang and Rong, he also surpassed Zhao Chongguo. He once pacified scattered troops at Jiangtai and again at Jingyang made a hundred thousand enemy soldiers surrender. His merits surpassed those of past and present, his fame overawed the Yi and Di, his loyalty was as bright as the sun and moon, and the favor he received exceeded that of the assembled ministers. Now, to honor this elder statesman, a lofty title is specially conferred.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Only one who first possesses humble and luminous virtue is worthy of an exceedingly illustrious title. “Shangfu” was the title used by the Zhou dynasty to honor Jiang Taigong; from the Han dynasty to the Tang, only Guo Ziyi could bear it without any shame. As for Wang Xingyu and Liu Shouguang, they were merely leaders of rebels. Although Qian Liu had the merit of defending Wu and Yue, it is acceptable to praise him for guarding one region, but to say his merits were enough to protect all under Heaven would be inappropriate.

The Zizhi Tongjian Gangmu records: In the seventh month of autumn in the first year of Baoying of Emperor Suzong (762), Guo Ziyi entered the court. Cheng Yuanzhen, out of jealousy and hatred, had him remain in the capital. In the second month of the second year of Dali of Emperor Daizong (767), Guo Ziyi entered the court; the phrase in the text, “the imprisoned son Guo Ai awaited punishment,” is suspected to contain textual corruption or omission. In the twelfth month of the same year, Guo Ziyi entered the court again. Yu Chao’en had always detested Guo Ziyi and had once dug up his father’s grave, but Guo Ziyi did not pursue the matter. In the first month of spring in the fourth year of Dali (769), Guo Ziyi entered the court; at that time Yuan Zai accused Yu Chao’en of plotting something harmful, but Guo Ziyi did not believe it. In the second month of spring in the ninth year of Dali (774), Guo Ziyi entered the court and augmented the troops of the Shuofang Army. In the spring of the tenth year (775), Guo Ziyi entered the court and memorialized requesting the appointment of a prefectural or county official, but received no reply. In the twelfth month of winter in the thirteenth year (778), Guo Ziyi entered the court again. By this time, the history had recorded his entering the court seven times in all.

The Gangmu’s method of writing says: This is precisely why Guo Ziyi became a pure minister (a loyal and selfless minister). Compared with him, Li Guangbi was indeed far inferior.

The Hongdao Lu comments: During the two hundred and forty-two years of the Spring and Autumn, Confucius recorded matters of entering court.

He served in the princely household twice and held office in the capital once. During the more than twenty years of Emperor Suzong’s and Emperor Daizong’s reigns, Zhu Zishu and Ziyu went to court together seven times. They never set aside their books, nor did they ever lack someone with whom to discuss them. Their conversations concerned nothing beyond the virtues of humility and deference, and the practice of examining oneself.

Perhaps this is why their achievements extended throughout the realm, yet the ruler never suspected or resented them; why they held the highest rank among the ministers, yet no one envied them.

The Book of Changes says, “The diligent and humble noble person will in the end find good fortune.” Confucius’s commentary explains: “To have merit yet not boast of it, to accomplish much yet not regard oneself as virtuous—this is the utmost in generosity of spirit. It describes one who, despite his achievements, places himself below others. His virtue is great, and his conduct reverent; humility means preserving one’s position through reverence.” These words describe Lord Ling exactly.

Here, “Lord Ling” is an honorific for a high-ranking minister. The “diligent humility” explained through the Book of Changes refers to the virtue of achieving much without becoming complacent, and treating others with humility and respect.