《弘道錄》Vol. 25

After Emperor Wu of Jin’s father, Emperor Wen of Jin, died, the whole country mourned for three days. In accordance with the old Han and Wei precedents, Emperor Wu also removed his mourning clothes after his father was buried. He continued, however, to wear a broad-sleeved robe and a plain cap, sit on a low seat, and forgo his usual meals.

Grand Minister Sima Fu and the others submitted a memorial: “We have heard that the rules of ritual change over time, expanding or contracting. The rites of the Yu, Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were not entirely the same. The Great Jin succeeded the Han and Wei. Some institutions have been changed and others retained; the aim is only to make them sufficient for teaching and transforming the people. There is no need to restore in every detail the simple institutions of antiquity. Your Majesty has already shortened the mourning period in accordance with the old Han and Wei precedents, adapting it to the demands of governing today. At the same time, Your Majesty has personally expressed filial devotion through leaping and wailing, grieving even beyond the limits set by ritual. Even if King Wu Ding of Shang did so in the Yin dynasty, and even if Zeng Can and Min Ziqian observed mourning as commoners, they could hardly have surpassed Your Majesty.

“Jing and the southern tribes have not yet been subdued, and government affairs have not yet been put in order. Matters are numerous and will inevitably demand Your Majesty’s energy and attention. We believe Your Majesty should order the palace officials to change their clothes, restore the imperial meals, and eat according to the established rules.”

Emperor Wu issued an edict: “Whenever I think that my father is now in the underworld, and that I cannot continue wearing the hemp mourning sash, living in a hut with earthen walls, and preserving my grief in this way, I find it impossible to put the thought aside. How much worse, then, to eat fine rice and wear brocade! This would go against my heart and only deepen my pain; it cannot bring me comfort. I was born into a poor family, where the rites have long been observed. How could I change my feelings for my father in the space of a single day? My longing for him is already deep enough. You may read what Confucius said in reply to Zai Wo; there is no need to debate the matter further. Whenever it is brought up, I am overcome with grief and truly can do nothing about it.”

Sima Fu and the others submitted another memorial: “The fighting has not yet ceased, and preparations for war continue. Government affairs are exceedingly burdensome, and the realm’s concerns are many. Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven, yet observes the rites of a commoner: wearing coarse mourning clothes, sitting on a grass mat, and living on plain water and vegetables. Your heart is burdened with sorrow, and your body grows weaker by the day. Even so, Your Majesty remains diligent in handling government affairs, sitting until dawn, graciously receiving your ministers, and at times going without food. Such exertion is truly excessive. We are deeply troubled and sincerely fear that it will exhaust Your Majesty’s spirit and strength and hinder the affairs of state. We beg Your Majesty to consider and accept our earnest advice, and in this way comfort the Empress Dowager.”

Emperor Wu issued another edict: “Reading your memorial once more has made my grief even harder to contain; I cannot compose myself. The three-year mourning period—the ancient rite for mourning one’s parents—has been observed since antiquity. The sages established rites of mourning in accordance with human feeling, so that people might act according to the principle of sympathetic understanding. My father has been gone for some time, and there is no longer anyone to ask or confide in. Even if I were to restrain my grief, eat fine food, and wear splendid clothes, I truly could not bear it. I should not…”

He mourned again and again, overcome with grief, until his speech and actions came to a halt. The emperor then observed mourning for three years according to this rite.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Consider the death of Emperor Wen. The whole country mourned for three days. At that time, the Jin dynasty had not yet replaced the Wei dynasty, so those three days of mourning did not follow the rite for a transfer of power. Emperor Wu, too, followed the old precedent from the Han and Wei dynasties, removing his mourning clothes after the burial. By then, Jin had replaced Wei, and the rite for a transfer of power was in effect. Yet Emperor Wu did no more than wear a dark robe, put on a plain cap, lower his seat, and withdraw his meals. It seems, then, that he observed only mourning in the heart, without formal mourning clothes. At first, he did not truly follow the ancient rite of wearing the heaviest mourning garment and mourning for three years. Why, then, did Fu Fu and the others insist so strongly on it?

“Perhaps it was because upright public opinion had lost its force. People drank to excess, indulged themselves, and scorned ritual and law; when their relatives died, they felt no grief. Then someone like Emperor Wu suddenly appeared, showing sorrow and anguish. Though he did not fully observe the ancient rites, his example was enough to shake the whole country. Others have said that Confucius once opposed Zai Wo’s proposal to shorten the mourning period, because no ritual is greater than court ceremony, and no event more momentous than a transfer of power. Jin’s funeral rites had not yet been completed, yet Wei’s abdication had already taken place. Jin had accepted Wei’s splendid dark robes and red shoes, along with its full array of insignia and ceremonial objects, bells and drums, jade and silk. Even if one wished not to use these rites, who could set them aside?

“If someone insisted on doing as Emperor Wu of Jin did—carefully fulfilling a subject’s duty, swearing that he had no divided loyalty, and then withdrawing to a mourning hut, wearing coarse cloth and eating plain food, to uphold the filial conduct of Zengzi and Min Ziqian and condemn Zai Wo’s position—who could stop him? Otherwise, at the very moment of receiving Heaven’s Mandate and establishing a new dynasty, to pretend that one had not eaten rice or worn brocade: whom would that deceive? Heaven?”

The General of the Central Army, Yang Hu, said to Fu Xuan, “The three-year mourning period is prescribed by ritual, and even those of high rank should observe it. The emperor is now deeply filial. Though some have prevented him from wearing mourning clothes, in practice he is still observing mourning. If this can restore the rites of the former kings, would that not be a good thing?”

Fu Xuan replied, “Shortening the mourning period by counting days in place of months has been the practice for hundreds of years. Restoring the ancient rites so suddenly would be difficult.”

Yang Hu said, “Even if the rites cannot be observed by everyone throughout the realm, would it not still be better for the emperor to complete his mourning than to follow the present practice?”

Fu Xuan replied, “If the emperor keeps his mourning clothes on while everyone else removes theirs, then only the bond between father and son will remain; the distinction between ruler and subject will disappear.” The discussion was dropped.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Yang Hu, the General of the Central Army, may have been offered an opportunity that comes only once in a thousand years. Wei had already changed dynasties, and Jin had just been founded. The ethos of Ji Kang and Ruan Ji’s age could not have reappeared at the end of the Jin dynasty, much less in a newly founded state. If this proposal had been presented to Emperor Wu, he would surely have accepted it, established it as a rule, and had the ritual officials record it so that it could be observed throughout the realm…”

Even if the ancient rites of the former kings could not be fully restored, at least people would not have fallen into the abuses of worldly custom. Unfortunately, Fu Xuan did not consider this point, and Wang He (Wang Bi and He Yan) became bound by worldly conventions. Jiangzuo—the Eastern Jin and the southern regimes that followed it—inherited this climate. They not only failed to observe the three-year mourning period, but even continued to play music while wearing the one-year or nine-month mourning garments, prescribed according to degrees of kinship. In this way, the ministers could not disclaim responsibility.

In the third month of the fourth year of Taizhi, Empress Dowager Wang of Jin died. The Jin ruler observed the mourning rites in full accordance with ancient practice. After the burial, the relevant officials asked him to remove his mourning clothes. He issued an edict saying, “I received my mother’s care throughout my life, yet have only a few years in which to repay her. I cannot bear this in my heart.” When the officials pressed their request, he issued another edict: “What concerns me is that I may fail to practice filial devotion wholeheartedly, not that my health may suffer. The ritual codes of earlier times were sometimes plain and sometimes elaborate; they differed from one another. Why cling to the customs of recent times and thereby lose sight of the underlying principles of mourning rites?” The ministers asked repeatedly, and only then did he agree. Even so, he continued to wear plain mourning clothes until the three-year period was complete.

The Hongdao lu comments: Empress Dowager Wang was the daughter of Wang Su. She could recite the Book of Songs and the Analects, and was especially well versed in mourning rites. Emperor Wu once said, “I come from a family of scholars, and our family has studied ritual for generations. How could this have begun only in a day or two?” Clearly, the ritual tradition the Jin ruler heard and learned from childhood had deep roots. How could such a ruler be compared with Empress Dou and Emperor Jing of Han, who valued the teachings of Huang-Lao and belittled Confucian rites?

The History of Wei records that in the ninth month of the fourteenth year of Taihe, Empress Dowager Feng died. The Wei ruler went five days without eating porridge, and his grief exceeded the bounds prescribed by ritual. Yang Chun, a native of Huayin and an official of the Central Section, remonstrated with him: “The rites established by the sages say that grief may make a person waste away, but must not damage their life. Even if Your Majesty wishes to make yourself a worthy ruler for all generations, how will you safeguard the ancestral temples and the state?” Only after hearing Yang Chun’s words did the Wei ruler have a bowl of porridge brought to him.

The Hongdao lu comments: The Wei ruler’s grief and emaciation truly arose from his nature; they were not forced or affected. Yang Chun’s claim that he was trying to become a worthy ruler for all generations was an incorrect judgment.

At the time, the princes and ministers submitted a memorial asking that the site of the tomb be chosen without delay. The Wei ruler issued an edict saying, “I still hope to continue attending the coffin, as though my mother were still beside me. I cannot bear to hear about moving her to the imperial mausoleum.” In the tenth month, the princes and ministers again pressed their request, and he finally had the Empress Dowager buried at Yonggu Mausoleum.

The Hongdao lu comments: According to ritual, a feudal lord should be buried five months after death. After the burial, he should keep vigil in a lean-to outside the central gate, a simple shelter used during mourning. Although Emperor Wen of Wei did not fully grasp the universal principles of ritual, his words nonetheless accorded implicitly with what had been handed down from ancient rites. It is a pity that, under the pressure of the ministers’ repeated memorials, he eventually yielded.

Grand Commandant Pi and the others advised him: “Your servants are old and frail. We have served several former emperors and know something of the state’s old customs. We beg Your Majesty to restrain your excessive austerity and follow the established precedents.” The Wei ruler said, “Our ancestors…” The original text breaks off here.

Zong was skilled in military strategy, but he had not studied the civil arts. I now look up to the teachings of the sages of old and hope to learn the ways of antiquity, discuss current affairs, and compare them with past events. Yet the circumstances today differ from those of earlier times.

The Record says: This is precisely what is meant by “receiving an inheritance.” The state’s measures often fail to proceed smoothly and meet obstacles at every turn because of such arguments. Unless a ruler has exceptional insight, who could avoid being misled by these claims?

The Wei ruler added: “I have considered that, since the middle antiquity, people have probably been unable to observe the full three-year mourning period because, after a ruler’s death, the successor has only just ascended the throne. The ruler’s De has not yet spread, and the hearts of the subjects have not yet turned toward him. So the new ruler puts on ceremonial robes and performs the accession rites. My own De is truly inadequate, but I have been on the throne for more than ten years—long enough for the people throughout the realm to know that I am their ruler. Now, during the mourning period, if I cannot fully express my grief and longing, both feeling and ritual will be left unfulfilled. Is that not deeply regrettable? My attachment to the mourning garments and refusal to accept your request are truly because my heart cannot bear it, not merely because I wish to avoid criticism.”

The Record says: This especially shows that he understood human feeling and grasped what mattered most. He was unlike those who act rashly, concerned only with winning arguments and indulging their own wishes. Which of the wise rulers of antiquity could have surpassed him?

The ministers also said that it would be difficult to suspend the ancestral temple sacrifices held in spring and autumn—the zheng and chang rites. The Wei ruler replied: “In previous reigns, these sacrifices were always performed by the officials in charge on the ruler’s behalf. It was through the late emperor’s loving instruction that I began to pay my respects in person. Now Heaven has sent down calamity, and humans and spirits alike have lost their support. I imagine that the spirits of the ancestral temple, too, will temporarily cease to receive the offerings. To perform the sacrifices at such a time may not accord with their wishes. Moreover, in ordinary times the nobles and ministers often say that the realm is at peace and its rites and music renew themselves day by day, rivaling the flourishing eras of Tang Yao and Yu Shun. Yet now you would forcibly take away what my heart desires, and prevent me from even surpassing the old precedents of Wei and Jin. Why?”

The Record says: A three-year mourning period is a major duty that children owe their parents; once the opportunity has passed, it cannot be recovered or made up. Seasonal sacrifices, by contrast, are regular affairs of state that can be resumed and performed later. The Wei ruler can be said to have kept the weight and urgency of these matters clearly in view.

Li Biao, Assistant Director of the Secretariat, added: “Although the realm is now at peace, the lands south of the Yangtze have not yet submitted, and the regions north of the desert have not become subject to us. We remain concerned that unexpected events may occur.”

The Wei ruler replied: “The Duke of Dai of Lu set out on campaign wearing mourning clothes, and Duke Wen of Jin defeated his enemies while dressed in black mourning garments. Such conduct was accepted by the sages. If an unexpected event truly occurs, there would be no blame even for sending out troops over the ropes before the coffin—how much less for simply wearing mourning clothes? Can one really, while the realm is at peace, plan in advance for war and thereby abandon the rites of mourning?”

The Record says: Later generations often applied precedents that allowed mourning rites to be adapted during wartime to times when there was no war. Although…

Could Confucian scholars escape blame for this? Is this not the fault of Emperor Wen of Wei?

Grand Commandant Yuan Pi and the others again raised one of the Wei house’s taboos after its change of dynasty: after three months, the ruler had to go west to welcome the gods, then go north to dispel calamities and evil influences through rites for averting disaster and praying for blessings, and perform auspicious rites in accordance with custom. The Wei ruler said, “If we serve the gods with moral integrity, they will come of their own accord even if we do not go to welcome them. If we abandon benevolence and righteousness, they will not come even if we welcome them. Such things should not be done in ordinary times; how much less should they be done while we are in mourning?”

The Record comments: This is why the Wei ruler could resolutely replace old customs with the rites of the Chinese realm. Should the ministers not be ashamed? Should they not be ashamed?

The Wei ruler then asked the ministers You Minggen, Gao Lü, and the others, “The sages established the rite of ending mourning observances and the rules for changing mourning garments in order to ease grief gradually. Now, barely ten days have passed, and you are already speaking of removing mourning clothes and returning to auspicious garments. Would that not wound filial feeling?”

They replied, “The Golden Register, which records the edict, left instructions that burial should take place after one month, and that auspicious garments should be resumed after the burial.”

The Wei ruler said, “The Golden Register’s instructions, and the requests of the high ministers, were framed this way because they feared that government affairs would be neglected. I cannot now remain silent and thereby let the affairs of state fall into disrepair. I only wish to wear mourning clothes and refrain from auspicious rites, while giving full expression to my grief on the new and full moons—the first and fifteenth days of each month. If you will not allow me to do this, I will remove my mourning clothes, say nothing, and entrust the affairs of state to the Chief Minister. I leave these two courses to the ministers to choose between.”

You Minggen said, “If Your Majesty remains silent, the great affairs of state will be neglected. We ask that you follow your own wishes and continue to wear mourning clothes.”

The Record comments: The Wei dynasty’s Golden Register was equivalent to an edict left by a Han emperor. Its text said, “Bury him after one month, and resume auspicious garments after the burial.” This was an edict that counted the mourning period by days in place of months. Sometimes the rule was followed and sometimes it was not; this was simply because people differed in the depth of their filial feeling, and so each matter was handled differently.

Emperor Wen of Wei inherited the great undertaking as a child and showed signs of wisdom and sagacity at an early age. He had not achieved this through instruction by renowned masters or the influence of worthy teachers. Yet he admired the finest examples of human conduct and practiced virtues rarely seen in antiquity. His repeated exchanges with the ministers show that he could fully dispel the doubts of the assembled officials. If so, what mourning rite could not have been carried out?

It is a pity that Empress Feng’s authority had long been entrenched, and that the disaster had taken shape by degrees. With a grandson like this, how could she bear to betray him and instead poison his father? I privately wonder: the Wei ruler was wise, perceptive, and exceptionally quick-witted, yet he could not see his father’s treachery. Perhaps, after the Wei court had been shaken by the calamity of Cui Hao, it had grown wary and treated concealment and cover-up as a matter of honor. It had neither a historian like Dong Hu who would record events truthfully, nor many people willing to offer repeated admonitions to the ruler face to face. It was not until the Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government began to investigate the matter of Heaven…

Even the slightest signs or portents in historical events should be entered in the records; the main account should state the events themselves plainly. Alas, it is too late now! Those who govern states and families do not fear that matters will be concealed; they fear that they themselves will not understand them. They do not fear that matters are subtle; they fear that they themselves will fail to discern them clearly. That is why they spare no scruple and shrink from no obscure or difficult inquiry, but do all they can to establish the facts. Thus, kindness was not shown to those who deserved it, nor generous treatment given to those who merited it. Across thousands and hundreds of years, above and below, such a thing befell only in this particular time and circumstance. Is this not the greatest regret of those who understand ritual and righteousness? It is truly lamentable!

In the ninth month of the fifteenth year of Taihe, the Wei ruler performed the auspicious sacrifice in the ancestral temple, a rite held during mourning. The official in charge asked permission to divine the date. The emperor issued an edict: “Divining the date and seeking good fortune accord neither with my reverent intention in carrying out this duty nor with my enduring grief for my departed kin.” He therefore chose the night before the dark moon, the last day of the month, and stayed in the ancestral temple. He led his officials in mourning cries, then changed his mourning clothes: he wore a white mourning cap, a leather belt, and black shoes. His attendants changed into black headcloths, plain white silk garments, leather belts, and bird-patterned shoes, and mourned throughout the night. The next day, the emperor changed into sacrificial robes, wearing a white cap, a dark robe edged in white, and corded shoes. His attendants removed their headcloths and put on soft caps. When the sacrifice was over, the emperor left the ancestral temple and stood weeping for a long time before returning.

In the eleventh month, the emperor held the Tan sacrifice, a rite marking the approach of the end of mourning. Only then did he begin wearing the imperial robes and crown. At the winter solstice, he sacrificed at the Round Altar to Heaven, then performed the sacrifice in the Bright Hall. He next went to Taihua Hall, wearing the Heaven-reaching Crown and a crimson gauze robe, and received the court’s salutations. Musical instruments were arranged in the hall, but none were played. Afterwards, he led the officials in transferring the ancestral tablets to the new ancestral temple.

The Record comments: According to the accounts, in the ninth month of the fourteenth year, the year gengwu, the Wei Empress Dowager Feng died. In the ninth month of the fifteenth year, the year xinwei, the Wei ruler performed the auspicious sacrifice in the ancestral temple; in the eleventh month, he held the Tan sacrifice, then put on the imperial robes and crown and transferred the new ancestral tablet to the temple. By this reckoning, the mourning period lasted only fifteen months, contrary to the ancient rite of “holding the Tan sacrifice in the intervening month” and the prescribed twenty-seven months of mourning.

In the third month of the third year of Jiande under Emperor Gaozu of the Later Zhou, Empress Dowager Chinu died. The Zhou ruler lived in a mourning hut and ate a small measure of rice twice a day, morning and evening. Wei Yu falsely accused Prince Qi, Yuwen Xian, of drinking wine and eating meat. The Zhou ruler said, “Although the Prince of Qi and I have different mothers, neither of us was born of the principal wife. It was only because of me that he bared his upper body and bound up his hair to mourn alongside me. You ought to feel ashamed of this. You are the Empress Dowager’s own son and received her affection alone; you should all the more strive to better yourself, rather than criticize others.”

At the burial, the Zhou ruler walked barefoot to the tomb. He then issued an edict: “Three years of mourning is a ritual obligation even for the Son of Heaven. But military affairs and affairs of state are weighty, and I must personally attend to government. As for the rites of wearing mourning clothes and living in the mourning hut…”

In accordance with the rites and institutions of earlier dynasties, they expressed their boundless grief. The officials were to follow the deceased emperor’s testamentary edict; after the burial, they were to remove their mourning clothes. The high ministers firmly petitioned to follow the expedient rules, but the emperor did not consent. In the end, he observed the full three-year mourning period. Relatives within the Five Grades of Mourning—the five degrees of mourning attire in ancient times, determined by the closeness of kinship—all observed mourning according to ritual as well.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Mr. Hu holds that Zhou Gaozu’s wearing mourning clothes and living in humble quarters until the full three years had passed was the most virtuous course. Yet he restricted universal mourning to those within the Five Grades and did not require the court officials to do the same. This was not enough to make the universal moral principle clear to all under Heaven. I do not think so. The reason debate and contention continued in court was precisely that they wanted to lead everyone under Heaven to observe the three-year mourning period together.

People’s feelings differ, as does the closeness of their ties to their relatives. A child begins to leave its parents’ arms only after three years; but the saying “Heaven has no two suns, and the people have no two rulers” rests on a different principle altogether. If everyone under Heaven were required to run about wailing and mourn as they would for their own parents’ deaths, then from the time of the ancient sage rulers Yao and Shun onward, almost no one—apart from Emperor Wen of Han and Emperor Renzong of Song—ever did so. How much less appropriate would it be to do so merely for the private relatives of the empress dowager? Zhou Gaozu did not abolish the rites, nor did he make excessive demands of others; he only wished to express his own grief as fully as he could. A noble-minded person should not criticize him lightly. As for matters such as touring the realm and launching military campaigns, I do not consider them worthy of praise.

The Tang History records that in the fourth year of the Zhenguan era, the Eastern Turkic Khagan Jieli came to Chang’an. Emperor Taizong ascended the Shuntian Tower, arrayed the ceremonial music and retinue in full splendor, received Jieli, and housed him at the Court of the Imperial Stud, where he provided him with lavish meals. When the Retired Emperor heard that the Turkic khagan had been captured, he sighed: “Gaozu was besieged at Baideng and could not avenge that humiliation. Now my son has pacified the Turks. I entrusted the realm to the right person; what have I left to worry about?” He then summoned Taizong, more than ten senior ministers, the princes, consorts, and princesses to a banquet at the Lingyan Pavilion. As the drinking reached its height, the Retired Emperor played the pipa himself, Taizong rose and danced, and the ministers took turns standing to offer toasts. They did not disperse until late at night.

The Hongdao Lu comments: The Retired Emperor thought that, because Taizong had pacified the Turks, he had entrusted the realm to the right person. How utterly lacking in human feeling those words sound! Confucius said, “Repay injury with justice, and repay kindness with kindness.” The Turks had once relied on the strength of the Tang; at first, the two sides had trusted and supported one another. Later, the Turks took advantage of the Central Plain’s power and occupied the lands south of the desert. The ruler, his ministers, fathers, and sons all assumed that from then on they would be free of external threats, unaware that dangers within the imperial court ran deeper than those posed by the northern tribes. If the Retired Emperor…

Remembering the kindnesses of the past, the emperor told the sovereign that a state which had been extinguished should be allowed to continue, and that later generations should inherit the work of their ancestors. It would be better to send the Turks back to their homeland, taking their old and young with them. As Mencius said, once the ruler had been installed, one should depart. In this way, the distinction between Chinese and non-Chinese would be clear, and the Tang’s reputation for generosity and authority would shine more brightly. Heaven’s blessings on the Tang should not have been pursued in this manner. Sadly, no one understood this principle. Before long, their descendants would become fierce and cruel, as though they were merely repaying one another’s kindnesses and grievances. Would the Grand Emperor’s delight today not become a source of regret for gentlemen in the future?

In the twelfth month of the seventh year of the Zhenguan era, Taizong joined the Grand Emperor for a banquet at the old Weiyang Palace. The Grand Emperor ordered Jieli Khan, leader of the Turks, to dance, and Feng Zhidai, leader of the southern tribes, to recite poetry. Then he laughed and said, “For Hu and Yue peoples to become one family—such a thing has never happened since antiquity.” Taizong raised his cup in celebration and said, “Now the peoples of all four quarters come to submit as subjects. This is all the result of Your Majesty’s instruction and transformation; it is beyond what my own intelligence could achieve. In the past, Emperor Gaozu of Han once drank with the Grand Emperor in this palace and boasted of himself. That is not something I would do.” The Grand Emperor was greatly pleased, and everyone in the hall cried out, “Long live the emperor!”

The Hongdao lu comments: When Taizong said that Emperor Gaozu of Han had boasted of himself, was that really so? The Turks had once submitted to the Grand Emperor, and their status was vastly different from his. Now, when people say that the Hu and Yue peoples had become one with the Central Plains, did the Grand Emperor do anything beyond making them submit? And how should we judge Taizong’s own self-praise? Taizong once regretted that he had not carried rice on his back to support his parents, as Zilu had done. Why, then, take pleasure in the submission of the Hu and Yue peoples? The Book of Songs says, “Set out your baskets and vessels, and drink and be merry.” Is this what it takes to truly enjoy the happiness of family life? Otherwise, it is all self-praise and boasting.

The History of Song records that in the seventh year of the Tiansheng era, Empress Dowager Zhangxian planned to receive the court officials’ New Year’s greetings on the winter solstice, with Renzong leading the officials in wishing her long life. Fan Zhongyan, then serving as Collator in the Secret Pavilion, submitted an earnest remonstrance: “Within the palace, one may care for one’s mother according to the rites of the household. But to place her alongside the officials and have her receive their audience facing south cannot become a precedent for later generations.”

Later, when Consort Chen Li died, Lü Yijian was serving as chief minister. He reported that, according to ritual, the funeral should be conducted with due solemnity. As chief minister, he said, he was obliged to be informed of and take part in affairs both within and outside the palace. He therefore requested that the court formally mourn her, observe a period of mourning, and prepare the palace guard of honor for her burial. The emperor issued an edict ordering that a breach be made in the palace wall so that the coffin could be carried out. Lü Yijian said that breaking through the wall was contrary to ritual, and that the coffin should instead be taken out through the West Flower Gate. Consort Chen had given birth to the Sage…

He personally presided over the funeral rites but failed to follow the proper ritual rules. Someone would surely be punished for this in the future. Do not assume that Yi Jian (Lü Yijian) never said these things.

Later, when the Empress Dowager died, Prince Jing, Zhao Yuanyan, said to the emperor, “Your Majesty is the son of Consort Chen (Li, a consort of Emperor Zhenzong). Consort Chen died under suspicious circumstances.” Only then did the emperor learn that Consort Chen had given birth to him. He wept in grief for several days, issued an edict blaming himself, and posthumously ennobled Consort Chen with the title “Zhuangyi.” The emperor went to Hongfu Monastery to make an offering and report the matter, ordered the coffin opened, and examined it himself. Consort Chen had been interred with mercury, so her complexion still looked lifelike, and her crown and robes were the same as an empress’s. The emperor exclaimed, “What people said was true after all.” From then on, he treated the Liu family with even greater favor.

The Hongdao Lu comments: A worthy from an earlier age once said that Empress Dowager Zhangxian governed for more than ten years, keeping the realm at peace, and that Lü Yijian’s contribution was immense. Another account says that when Fan Zhongyan discussed the ceremony for offering birthday congratulations to the emperor, even Yan Shu did not understand the reason for it. Perhaps the merit of protecting the emperor was difficult to speak of openly, while the kindness of raising him was as boundless as the vast heavens. Lü Yijian insisted that the rites be conducted with great ceremony so that matters could be discreetly and properly arranged from the outset.

As for Fan Zhongyan and the others, they requested the establishment of the Seven Ancestral Temples and a sacrifice at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, and even proposed that the emperor wear the imperial robes and crown. This would gradually encourage practices contrary to ritual rules. Fan Zhongyan therefore urged restraint, arguing that the ceremony should be kept simple so that subsequent matters could be handled with care in advance. If these two ministers had still been alive during Emperor Yingzong’s reign, they might have taken on the duty of remonstrating during the debate over the ancestral temple of Prince Pu, and perhaps prevented the ensuing endless dispute. This may explain why their contributions were so great, even though their arguments were sometimes difficult to understand.

In the second year of Zhiping under Emperor Yingzong, the court issued an edict to discuss the rites for honoring Prince Pu Anyi. Sima Guang, Director of the Bureau of Remonstrance, believed the emperor would certainly seek to honor his birth father. He once used an audience to submit this advice: Emperor Xuan of Han became heir to Emperor Zhao, but in the end did not posthumously honor Crown Prince Wei or the Prince of Shi; Emperor Guangwu became heir to Emperor Yuan of Han, but likewise did not posthumously honor his birth father, the Lord of Nandun. These are precedents that should be followed for generations to come.

Later, Han Qi and the others submitted a memorial requesting an edict convening the court’s ritual officials and all officials of Academician rank or higher to deliberate together. The Hanlin Academician Wang Gui and the others did not dare to state their positions first. Sima Guang took up his brush and wrote: “One who succeeds to another’s lineage should become that person’s son and must not give precedence to his own birth father. Prince Pu should be addressed as Imperial Uncle, in accordance with the precedent for posthumous honors bestowed on relatives. Grant him high office and a large fief so that he receives the greatest possible honor.” Everyone agreed that this was sound, so Wang Gui ordered his staff to prepare a memorial based on Sima Guang’s handwritten draft. It said, “The former kings established ritual rules to ensure that the positions of honor could not be held by two people at once. If Your Majesty were to…” The original text ends here unfinished.

If one extends affection and reverence to collateral branches, one cannot focus on one’s immediate relatives. For this reason, since the Qin and Han dynasties, emperors who inherited the throne from collateral branches, and those who posthumously honored their birth parents as emperor and empress, were judged by people of their own time to have violated ritual norms and were criticized by later generations. We, your ministers, dare not take these cases as precedents for our dynasty to follow.

In earlier dynasties, those who succeeded to the throne were usually installed through the plans of ministers after the emperor had died. Emperor Renzong, however, while still not advanced in age, understood the great responsibility of continuing the ancestral temples. Respectfully discerning the will of Heaven and Earth, he chose a worthy man from among the many members of the imperial clan and entrusted him with the great enterprise. Your Majesty is the late emperor’s own son. You inherited the throne, continued the line of the ancestral temples, and came to rule the realm. Although Prince Pu Anyi (Prince Pu, Your Majesty’s birth father) was related to Your Majesty by blood and had raised you, Your Majesty’s accession to the throne, rule over the four seas, and the continuation of the imperial line through your descendants are all due to the late emperor’s grace. In our private view, Prince Pu should receive high office and the title of a great state, in keeping with earlier dynasties’ practice of conferring honors on close senior relatives. The three women—posthumously titled the Grand Ladies of Qiao, Xiang, and Xianyou—should likewise be honored in accordance with ritual precedents both ancient and recent. This would be appropriate.

The memorial submitted by Wang Gui and others has not yet settled in detail how Prince Pu should be designated in relation to Your Majesty, or whether his name should be avoided and left unspoken. Prince Pu was an elder brother to Emperor Renzong; in relation to the emperor, he should be called “Imperial Uncle,” and his name should not be spoken directly. Ouyang Xiu, Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, cited the Record of Mourning Dress: one who inherits another person’s ancestral line wears mourning for a year for his birth parents, rather than mourning for three years, but does not erase their status as his parents. This shows that the degree of mourning may be reduced, while their parental status cannot be erased. There is no precedent in the ritual institutions of past dynasties for changing the designation of one’s birth parents to “Imperial Uncle.” Nor do the ritual regulations provide for an additional rank when conferring a great state title. We request that an edict be issued to the Department of State Affairs, summoning the Secretariat, the Chancellery, and the Censorate to deliberate and submit their report.

Before long, the Empress Dowager issued an edict in her own name, honoring Prince Pu as “Emperor Pu Anyi” and designating him as the emperor’s “parent.” Prince Pu’s wife, Lady Wang, was titled “Lady of Qiao”; Lady Han, “Lady of Xiang”; and Lady Ren, “Lady of Xianyou County.” Each was also designated “Empress.”

The Hongdao lu comments: When Meng Yizi asked Confucius about filial piety, Confucius replied that one must not violate ritual. When Duke Wen of Teng asked about mourning rites, Mencius told him to give full expression to his grief. The words of the sages take the human heart as their foundation, and so are easy to understand; examined in light of the principles of Heaven, they are also easy to comprehend. They do not resort to language that draws excessive distinctions, nor put forward strange doctrines that defy custom and seek to reform the world.

Those who hear advice cannot readily accept it if they fail to see the anger and partiality in it; those who offer advice cannot readily take it in if they fail to recognize the resistance and obstruction it meets. That is why this discussion was recorded in the classics and passed down for generations without causing harm.

The “Puyi Debate” of the Song dynasty—the dispute over the title and rites due to the biological father of Emperor Yingzong, Prince Pu—provoked prolonged controversy at the time and left trouble for later generations because the worthy ministers argued too rigidly and went too far in trying to correct matters. They lacked the sages’ generosity and clarity, and their earnestness was too sharp to remain unobtrusive.

In retrospect, Sima Guang and Wang Gui had a point: they held that the broad principles of mourning attire had a basis, that one could not erase the status of one’s parents, and that this position was not without grounds. But calling Yingzong’s biological father “Imperial Uncle” lacked firm evidence. A claim without reliable support is difficult to accept hastily. Ouyang Xiu and Han Qi also had a point: the succession of emperors through the ages could not be ignored, and the lineage passed down through the ruler’s own ancestral line for a hundred generations could not be confused. One who succeeds to another person’s ancestral line as heir should not be preoccupied with his own biological parents; this, too, was credible. Yet since there was something credible in that position as well, it should not be adopted lightly.

Whether one says that one side was right and the other wrong, or that each had its merits and faults, the crucial point is that each person must examine their own intentions. Had Emperor Yingzong looked back to the legacy secured for all generations by Song Taizu, Zhao Kuangyin, and understood that he directly inherited the imperial lineage passed down since Yao and Shun, he would have seen that what he once upheld concerned one person, while what he now bore responsibility for concerned the whole realm, with its nine regions and myriad states. From this he could understand that the emperor’s position is supreme: even if he wished to honor his biological father, he could not act from private feeling alone.

Next, Yingzong should have considered that Emperor Renzong of Song had chosen him from among the many people and raised him above tens of millions. In the past, he had served his parents through the daily courtesies of attending to their food and comfort and asking after them morning and evening. Now he served through the suburban sacrifices to Heaven and Earth and the ancestral temples, and through his duties to the state altars and the realm. From this he could understand that the individual is the foundation for managing all affairs of state; even if he deeply cherished the care his parents had given him, he could not attend only to personal feeling.

The emperor’s true intentions have yet to be clearly expressed, so every position seems to meet resistance. Some say that when Yingzong inherited the realm, he received the late emperor’s beneficence; others say that, according to the proper order of human relations, he was entitled to inherit the throne. Some say that he had already attained high office and enjoyed every honor; others say that when relatives are ennobled because of a child’s rank, the highest rites should naturally be observed. Yingzong needed no one to urge him to remember the natural bond between parent and child and his parents’ care in raising him. Nor did he need to be reminded to feel gratitude for the plans that raised him to the throne and for the principles behind his succession to the imperial line. These truths were already sufficient when reflected on inwardly; when used as arguments in a public dispute, they seemed insufficient.

In the end, the more people argued, the deeper they sank into difficulty; the more they changed, the more likely they were to make mistakes. This dispute became an unresolved question for the ages because people failed to follow the great sages and worthy men in setting their hearts right through impartiality.

How could anything today compare with this?

After Xiaozong ascended the throne, he honored Gaozong as Retired Emperor, and the empress became Retired Empress. From then on, Xiaozong and Gaozong lived together at Deshou Palace. On the winter solstice, Xiaozong, dressed in a robe and shoes, walked out through Xiangxi Gate in the rain, supporting the imperial carriage as it went. When they reached the palace gate, Gaozong still refused to stop and repeatedly waved Xiaozong away. Xiaozong nevertheless ordered his attendants to help Gaozong back inside. Later, Gaozong turned to his ministers and said, “Now I have entrusted the throne to the right person. I have no regrets.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: To entrust the throne to the right person means that the successor must uphold the ancestral temples and the state above, and govern the land and its people below. It means more than simply carrying on the former ruler’s aspirations and completing what he left unfinished. Emperor Taizong of Tang once said that he would wash away the humiliations of past generations, repay the kings of a hundred ages, eradicate evil, and avenge grievances that had endured for a thousand years. This is precisely the point. The trust Xiaozong bore was indeed a grave one. He resolved decisively to recover the lost territories and relied on Zhang Jun as a bulwark like a Great Wall. After assessing the enemy, he judged that the peace negotiations advocated by Qin Hui were no sound policy, and firmly concluded that the Jin state’s conduct was dishonorable and that making peace was no solution. In saying that Gaozong had chosen the right successor, one can only agree. Sadly, although Xiaozong was determined to endure hardship as King Goujian of Yue had done, he could not persist to the end. The defeat at Fuli turned him toward the views of those who had earlier urged a retreat; later, treacherous men obstructed him as well. Though he had the will to rally and act with resolve, he did not succeed in recovering the lost territories. Gentlemen therefore lamented that success was exceedingly difficult to attain.

On the first day of the first month in the first year of Longxing (1163), Xiaozong received the court’s congratulations at Wende Hall, then went to Deshou Palace to pay his respects to the Retired Emperor and Retired Empress. This became the annual practice. In the seventh year of Qiandao (1171), on the Retired Emperor’s seventieth birthday, Xiaozong bestowed honorific titles on the two sovereigns—the Retired Emperor and Retired Empress. Gaozong was titled “Retired Emperor Guangyao Shousheng Xiantian Tidao,” and the Retired Empress “Retired Empress Shousheng Mingci.” In the twelfth year of Chunxi (1185), on the Retired Emperor’s eightieth birthday, Xiaozong bestowed further titles on them. Gaozong was titled “Retired Emperor Guangyao Shousheng Xiantian Tidao Xingren Chengde Jingwu Weiwen,” and the Retired Empress “Retired Empress Shousheng Qiming Guangci.” The court held grand ceremonies and proclaimed a general amnesty. At other times, Xiaozong often accompanied the Retired Emperor on visits to places such as Jujing Garden, Yujin Garden, and the Temple of the Four Sages, observing the rites of reverence with the utmost care.

Liu of Yongxin says: Judging from the historical records of Xiaozong’s service to Gaozong, he fulfilled the rites and showed his affection in every respect, never once growing slack. He may truly be said to have left nothing wanting in his duty as a son. Some people argue that Xiaozong inherited the throne as a member of a collateral branch. What he received from Gaozong was a modest inheritance, which he was then responsible for passing on to future generations. How, then, should he have shown his gratitude and repaid that kindness…

In this way, gratitude toward one’s forebears is precisely one reason a person can fulfill filial duty. Knowing that one is the heir who carries on their line, and fearing that others might think one insufficiently devoted, one strives to succeed them; this too is a reason one can fulfill filial duty. In the past, Emperor Yingzong of Song, as the successor to another’s line, did not fully discharge the duty expected of him, and the exemplary gentleman was troubled by this. Is there nothing here today that we can take as a warning? Taking it as a warning is also a reason one can fulfill filial duty. Are we to say that none of these acts of filial piety arose naturally from the heart? Ah, what kind of talk is that?

When the exemplary gentleman judges a person, he looks only at whether that person ultimately comes to act well. If one holds that such good conduct arose from being moved by something, and so is not worthy of praise, should we then praise those who feel nothing and do no good? If one holds that such good conduct was achieved through effort, and so is not worthy of praise, should we then praise those who make no effort and do no good? If one holds that such good conduct came about only because the person was warned, and so is not worthy of praise, should we then praise those who receive no warning and do no good? Follow this line of reasoning, and all the people under Heaven will surely end up turning toward wrongdoing together.

The Hongdao Lu records: “I believe that throughout the reigns of Emperor Gaozong of Song and Emperor Xiaozong of Song, the joy of the father-son bond endured without interruption. From the Longxing and Qiandao eras through Chunxi, it spanned twenty-five years. This was more than one person simply honoring elders and loving kin, with father and son each fulfilling his proper role in harmony. It also won the goodwill of all the peoples and states under Heaven. Imagine the flourishing rites, music, and institutions of that time, and the formal courtesies through which ruler and ministers yielded to one another and advanced or withdrew. What a sight it must have been!

“This was not merely because, as Retired Emperor, he had a son who became Son of Heaven and so enjoyed the highest rank. He also lived past the age of eighty. Imagine him in advanced age, his face still ruddy, his hair white as a crane’s; old yet honored, dignified in bearing. What a sight that must have been! Since the abdications of Yao, Shun, and Yu, have we truly ever seen anyone like him?

“I believe Emperor Gaozong of Song abdicated the throne from a wholly public and selfless heart. Heaven repaid him with long life and abundant blessings. Emperor Xiaozong’s abundant De far surpassed that of ordinary people, and so the honors he received were especially weighty. Those who think they practiced filial piety because they were moved, because they made an effort, or because they were warned are either narrow in their understanding or consumed by envy. Alas, the disorder and calamities of later generations may well have been caused by this kind of talk.”

After the Retired Emperor died, Xiaozong wept bitterly, beating his chest and stamping his feet, and went more than two days without eating. He said to Wang Huai and the others, “In the past, Emperor Xiaowu of Jin and Emperor Xiaowen of Wei both truly observed mourning for three years. Why…” The original text ends here.

Some were concerned that this would interfere with the emperor’s handling of government affairs. Huai replied, “Although Emperor Wu of Jin once had such an intention, later the palace wore deep robes and linen mourning caps only in the inner chambers.” A deep robe was a relatively loose-fitting ceremonial garment of antiquity; a linen mourning cap was worn during the mourning period.

The emperor said, “At the time, the ministers simply did not carry out his wishes. What would prevent me from following the ancients?” Huai replied, “Can the emperor attend court in mourning clothes while the ministers wear auspicious dress?” The emperor said, “There is a system by which mourning is reduced according to rank.”

The emperor then issued an order within the palace: “The former emperor, the Grand Emperor, departed suddenly. I have suffered the grief of losing my closest kin and should wear mourning clothes for three years. The ministers may observe the rule by which days are counted as months.” The officials submitted memorials five times in succession, asking the emperor to return to the palace and attend to government affairs, but he did not agree.

On the xinchou day of the second month, the tan sacrifice was performed. This was a ritual held before the end of the mourning period. After the officials took off their mourning clothes, the ministers submitted three more memorials, asking the emperor to attend court and handle government affairs, but their request was again denied. On the first day of the eleventh month, the wuxu day, the emperor went to Deshou Palace. From then on, he did the same on the first and fifteenth days of each month. He began wearing plain clothes while attending to government affairs in Yanhe Hall; when he went to Deshou Palace, he continued to wear mourning clothes and carry a mourning staff as before.

In the spring of the fifteenth year, on the first day of the first month, the dingyou day, the emperor went to Deshou Palace and paid his respects before the spirit tablet. In the fourth month of summer, Gaozong’s spirit tablet was enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple. The emperor issued an edict: “I previously ordered that I would wear mourning clothes for three years. The ministers repeatedly asked me to attend court and change out of mourning clothes, so I have worn plain hemp garments while handling government affairs in the inner hall. Although I issued an edict saying that, once Gaozong’s spirit tablet had been enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple, I would reluctantly accede to the ministers’ request, on examining the rites and statutes I find that my heart is not at ease. Completing the prescribed mourning period comes closer to the ancient rites. You should understand my true intent and make no further requests in memorials.”

The chancellor Liu Zheng said, “Three years of mourning is the mourning rite followed throughout the realm. Emperor Wen of Han was the first to alter the ancient system, and Emperor Jing did not follow the rites. Later generations then continued the practice, and the mourning system fell into disuse. Emperor Wu of Jin wished to express his grief for his family, but in the end was dissuaded by Pei Xiu and Fu Xuan. Although Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei was able to follow the ancient system, he still did not fully observe such rites as suspending music and simplifying government affairs during mourning. The practices of others are even less worth mentioning.

“The rule of counting days as months began with shallow Confucians such as Ying Shao. Later generations adopted it and eventually fixed it as a system of twenty-seven days. The rites of the former kings have been greatly undermined. Even wise rulers and worthy ministers have been afraid to reform the system and have simply continued the old practice. This is truly lamentable.

“Shouhuang’s longing for his parent and filial devotion arose from his very nature. His continued reverence for the spirit tablet after his father’s death came from the utmost sincerity. Although the emperor had reached an age at which he was not required to wear mourning clothes himself, and the ministers repeatedly urged him to change into other garments, his resolve was firm and he did not hesitate. After the late emperor was buried, he withdrew to serve the spirit tablet, wearing mourning clothes for three years and thereby completing the mourning rites. In a thousand years, only one person has done so.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: “Emperor Xiaozong of Song upheld the rites and principles governing succession to the imperial throne. He would not let even the slightest private affection for his birth parents alter his position. For this reason, the court historians praised his filial conduct, saying that he was worthy of the ‘filial piety’ expected of an emperor.

“I have examined the relevant historical records. In the thirteenth year of the Shaoxing era, Xiaozong’s adoptive father, Prince Xiu, died, and Xiaozong was ordered to resign from office and observe mourning. At that time, he had not yet ascended the throne. In the third year of the Qiandao era, Lady Zhang, Prince Xiu’s wife, died, and Xiaozong put on mourning clothes in the rear palace gardens. By then, he had already become emperor. This shows that he never changed the way he addressed his adoptive parents: he called them uncle and aunt.

“By the time of Emperor Lizong of Song, the court had posthumously ennobled his birth father, Xilu, as Prince Rong, and called Xilu’s wife, Lady Quan, a Lady of the State. Their son, Yu Rui, was allowed to inherit the title and conduct the ancestral sacrifices, but Xilu was still not honored as an emperor. Those who argued over whether Prince Pu should be posthumously honored as an emperor did not even take the precedent of their own dynasty as a settled judgment—how much less could they rely on precedents from later ages? People argued without end, each thinking himself wiser than the others. In the end, this was no match for the flourishing of Dao learning and the return of people’s hearts to the right path. Readers should understand this.

“The History of Yuan records that Lian Xixian served as Grand Councillor of the Central Secretariat in the early years of Emperor Shizu’s Zhiyuan era. When his mother died, he led his relatives in observing mourning according to the ancient rites and went three days without drinking even a ladle of water. In his grief, he wept until he vomited blood and could not rise. He slept in a hut of straw beside her grave. The senior ministers at court thought that the mourning regulations had not yet been settled and wanted to persuade him as strongly as they could to return to office. They went together to his hut, but heard him crying out in grief without pause and, in the end, could not bring themselves to speak.

“The Hongdao Lu comments: ‘The Yuan dynasty followed the customs of foreign peoples, including the rule that mourning could be interrupted when military affairs required it. This was not a practice that should have been copied, especially when the mourning rites of the time had not yet been settled. Yet Lian Xixian devoted himself wholly to following the ancient rites and insisted on completing the mourning period. This shows that deep familial love can transcend expedient adjustments to ritual. Even someone of foreign descent should change customs that do not accord with the ancient rites. If filial conduct can move the spirits, surely it can move one’s colleagues as well. As for those who had never studied military affairs yet willingly copied the rule of interrupting mourning in wartime, they became the very opposite of Lian Xixian.’

“Hu Juren of our dynasty was filial from childhood. When his father was gravely ill, he tasted his father’s stool to judge the severity of the illness. By then, mourning rites had long fallen into disuse, yet Hu alone remained steadfast in observing mourning according to the ancient rites. At first, he took not a drop of water. As he wept and danced in grief, he often fainted; when he came to, he continued again. Later, grief wasted him until he was little more than skin and bones, and he could not stand without leaning on his mourning staff. For three years, he did not enter his sleeping quarters. He followed the ancient rites in every part of the funeral observances, as well as in the monthly offerings at the ancestral hall on the first day of the month and the seasonal sacrifices. Those with far-sighted understanding knew that he was a man of outstanding independence and steadfast integrity…”

Those who did not know him often mocked him. Yet among the scholar-officials, some understood that the Master’s De truly began with these everyday matters.

Even in the private rooms, where no one could see them, husband and wife treated one another with the courtesy owed to honored guests. The clothes, utensils, and trunks in the household were sorted into categories and kept in strict order; throughout his life, nothing was ever misplaced. He showed deep affection for his elder brother and always went to the gate to welcome him home. When someone in the family fell ill, he prepared the medicine himself. He cared devotedly for his clan and never tired of teaching his nephews and younger male relatives. When receiving guests, he wore a formal robe, put on his headcloth and shoes, and maintained a dignified appearance throughout the day. Yet he was broad-minded and gentle by nature, and spoke with ease and patience, so people were often glad to spend time with him.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Zengzi said that when the heart is sincere, this is expressed in one’s outward conduct. Therefore, the junzi is always careful in speech and conduct when alone. Could anyone be like Master Hu, who valued reverence within yet lacked genuine affection for his family?” To say that one should begin to understand this Master through these deeds is, in truth, to know only the more superficial side of him.

Hongdao lu, juan 32.