《弘道錄》Vol. 29

In the second year of Emperor Ming's Yongping era during the Eastern Han Dynasty (59 CE), the emperor personally visited the Imperial Academy (the highest institution of learning in ancient times) to conduct the inaugural Elderly Nourishment Ceremony. Li Gong was appointed as the Sanlao (representing the virtue-laden elderly), while Huan Rong served as the Wugeng (symbolizing elders versed in the five cardinal relationships). Dressed in a grand robe of ramie fabric and wearing the Jinxian crown, the Sanlao arrived at the academy in a carriage, leaning on a jade staff. The emperor had prepared seats in the eastern wing of the ceremonial hall, dispatching envoys with comfortable carriages to escort Sanlao and Wugeng to the lecture hall of the Imperial Academy.

At the gate screen, the emperor personally welcomed them. Following ritual protocol, they ascended the hall via separate eastern and western steps—Sanlao mounting the guest steps while the emperor bowed at the base. Sanlao was seated facing east, with the Three Excellencies arranging his table and the Nine Ministers adjusting his shoes. The emperor rolled up his sleeves to carve meat, presented sauces and dishes, and offered wine with both hands, even assigning attendants to guard against choking hazards for the elders.

Wugeng sat facing south, receiving similar reverential service from the Three Excellencies. After the rites, Huan Rong led his disciples into the hall, where the emperor personally expounded on classical texts while Confucian scholars approached with their scriptures to seek guidance. Spectators crowded the bridge gate, numbering in the tens of thousands.

This account notably emphasizes that although Emperor Guangwu had established the Imperial Academy, he never attended in person. It was Emperor Ming who perfected the rituals, with a grandeur and meticulousness unmatched since the Three Dynasties. Regrettably, these ceremonies remained confined to the nobility, never reaching the common populace. Despite their magnificence, ordinary people had no real access to learning the principles of familial piety and human ethics, limiting the ritual's educational impact.

As crown prince, Emperor Ming had studied the Book of Documents under Huan Rong and continued to treat him with a teacher's honors after ascending the throne. During one visit to the Imperial Academy, he deliberately seated Huan Rong facing east (the position of honor), furnished with a table and staff, and summoned hundreds of officials and disciples. The emperor personally held the classics to seek instruction, and when students rose to defer, he humbly declared, "The Grand Tutor is present." Later, he bestowed imperial meals upon Huan Rong’s household. Whenever Huan fell ill, the emperor dispatched envoys and imperial physicians without fail. During critical illness, the emperor visited in person, dismounting at the street entrance to approach with scriptures in hand. He comforted Huan with tears, touching his arm, and gifted him bed curtains and canopies.

The swords, clothing, and bedding were not taken away until much later. From then on, when a marquis, general, or senior official came to ask after his health, none dared ride in a carriage to Huan Rong’s gate. Instead, they paid their respects from beneath his bed. When Huan Rong died, the emperor personally put on mourning clothes to pay his respects and attend the funeral, and granted him a burial site south of Shou Mountain.

The Hongdao lu comments: What is evil cannot coexist with what is upright; likewise, Confucianism and Buddhism cannot be blended together. Confucianism and Buddhism arose only after Heaven and Earth were formed. If so, why did the emperor both honor Confucian learning and provide for the elderly, while also believing in Buddhism? How should we understand this? The answer is that it is like Lord Ye’s love of dragons—a common failing. The story tells of Lord Ye, who loudly professed his love of dragons but fled in terror when a real one appeared.

The value of Confucian learning lies not in its textual glosses and explanations, just as a dragon’s wondrous power does not lie in its claws and teeth. To examine the Way of governance pursued by the Two Emperors and Three Kings—the legendary sage rulers of antiquity—by consulting the Three Elders and Five Seniors, the honored titles for elderly men, is like expecting to see the workings of divine transformation in the clumsy movements of small creatures such as snakes and lizards. Yet this is not a problem confined to Confucian learning. Buddhism speaks of emptiness and quiescent extinction, and teaches that one sees one’s nature through one’s own mind and awakens naturally. How, then, should we understand the Buddha’s Forty-Two Chapters Sutra, an early Buddhist scripture? It is clear that what monks devote themselves to studying is precisely the sort of Confucian text Huan Rong examined. Both Confucians and Buddhists have misunderstood the essential meaning of their own traditions.

Cui Yin was widely learned and exceptionally talented, with a command of the explanations and glosses of ancient and contemporary texts, as well as the teachings of the various schools. In his youth, he excelled at writing. He studied at the Imperial Academy and was as renowned as Ban Gu and Fu Yi. He made a living by studying the classics and had not yet had time to take up office. During the Yuanhe era, Emperor Suzong began restoring the rites of antiquity and touring the various regions. Cui Yin presented his “Eulogy on the Four Tours,” praising the virtuous rule of the Han dynasty in elegant, graceful prose. The emperor had always loved fine writing. After reading Cui Yin’s eulogy, he was greatly impressed and said to his attendant Dou Xian, “Do you know Cui Yin?” Dou Xian replied, “Ban Gu has often spoken to me about him, but I have never met him.” The emperor said, “You admire Ban Gu but overlook Cui Yin. That is like Lord Ye’s love of dragons. Invite him to meet me.” Cui Yin therefore went to visit Dou Xian. Dou Xian hurried to the gate without even putting on his shoes properly, and greeted him with a smile. “Tingbo, I admire you greatly. The emperor himself recommended you to me. How could I treat you with neglect?” He then invited Cui Yin inside and received him as an honored guest.

The Hongdao lu comments: In my view, when Emperor Suzong spoke of these two men, he was not speaking merely about their words and writing; the gains and losses of their lives were already plainly apparent. Cui Yin repeatedly wrote letters urging Dou Xian to mend his ways, directly pointing out both his strengths and his faults. Dou Xian therefore could not tolerate him. But Cui Yin was able to protect himself and withdraw far away. As the saying goes, “To hunt deer without a guide is scarcely better than giving up.” When faced with something uncertain, it may be better to stop in time. There was good reason that Cui Yin escaped disaster. Ban Gu failed to guide his sons well; many of them did not abide by the law…

The officials and common people alike were weary of hardship and afraid in their hearts, and dared not speak the truth. This is precisely what is meant by “wives and children laughing together, while the rules for managing the household have been lost.” How could such a situation fail to end in ruin?

Chen Zhong and Lei Yi came from the same commandery. They had been close friends since youth and studied the Lu Odes and the Yan Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals together. The commandery governor, Zhang Yun, recommended Chen Zhong for the post of Filial and Incorrupt (xiaolian), but Chen ceded the nomination to Lei Yi. Later, when Lei was recommended as a Distinguished Talent (maocai), he ceded it to Chen Zhong in turn. The governor refused to accept this, so Chen pretended to be mad. Eventually, both men were recommended as Filial and Incorrupt and appointed Gentlemen of the Secretariat together. Chen Zhong took responsibility for the offenses of people of his time and was dismissed from office. When Lei Yi saw Chen leave office, he too claimed illness and resigned. People in their home region sang: “Glue and lacquer are said to bind fast, yet they cannot match Lei Yi and Chen Zhong.”

The Hongdao lu says: “When I consider the story of Chen Zhong and Lei Yi, its causes and consequences are not fully recorded; the histories preserve only a general outline. If everyone yielded to others out of virtue, and every household deferred to its neighbors, would such a simple and harmonious spirit not have arisen in their time? Wang Ji and Gong Yu recommended each other, and, hearing that the other was about to receive an appointment, would straighten their caps and congratulate one another. Perhaps they came close to this spirit. Zhu Bo and Xiao Yu, however, could not do so.”

At the age of twelve, Ren Yan went to Chang’an to study. He mastered the Book of Odes, the Book of Changes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals, and became renowned at the Imperial Academy, where he was called the “Sage Child.” In the first year of the Gengshi era, he was appointed Commandant of Kuaiji at just nineteen years old. After taking office, he governed quietly and refrained from needless interference. His first act was to send someone with offerings to make a sacrifice to Jizha of Yanling. The realm had only just been pacified, and the roads were still impassable. Those who had moved south to Jiangnan to escape the troubles had not yet returned to the Central Plains. Kuaiji was known for its many talented people. After arriving, Ren Yan invited men of upright character, including Dong Ziyi and Yan Ziling, and treated them with the respect due to teachers and friends.

In Wu, there was a man named Longqiu Chang who lived in seclusion at Tai-mo. He held himself to high standards and would not compromise his integrity. While Wang Mang was in power, Longqiu was summoned repeatedly, but never accepted. When Ren Yan’s subordinates asked whether they should send someone to summon him, Ren Yan replied: “Mr. Longqiu cultivates virtue and puts the Way into practice. He has the integrity of Yuan Xian and Boyi. If the Commandant himself were to sweep his courtyard, he would still fear being insulted. How, then, could we summon him here?” Ren Yan therefore sent the Director of Merits with a calling card, wrote to convey his regards, and sent medicine as well. Officials and messengers went back and forth without pause for a year. Only then did Longqiu Chang arrive at the office in a carriage, saying that he was willing first to help identify and record talented people. Ren Yan appointed him Libationer of the Council of Advisers. Before long, Longqiu Chang died of illness. Ren Yan personally went to escort the funeral and did not attend court for three days. As a result, the worthy men and scholars of the commandery came in great numbers to pay their respects.

The Hongdao lu says: “The histories say that Yan Ziling wore a sheepskin coat, changed his name, and withdrew from public life. Yet from the way Ren Yan treated these worthy men, it seems they had not originally withdrawn from the world. It was a time of turmoil, and people came to seek refuge with him. Ren Yan…”

Although Fang was only twenty, he sincerely honored the worthy and treated them with humility. One could say he had not forsaken the integrity of holding to the middle way. In time, he finally moved Longqiu, who was willing to take him in as a disciple. Confucius said, “When a friend died and had no place to be buried, I said, ‘I will take care of the funeral.’” Perhaps this was what he meant by Zhangsun.

Guan Ning of Beihai was close friends with Hua Xin and Bing Yuan in his youth. They traveled together to study in a foreign land, and all three respected and befriended Chen Zhonggong. When turmoil engulfed the realm, Guan Ning heard that Gongsun Du was administering government affairs across the sea, and went with Bing Yuan, Wang Lie, and others to seek refuge in Liaodong. Gongsun Du set aside vacant lodgings for them. Afterward, when Guan Ning spoke with Gongsun Du, he discussed only the classics, never affairs of the day. They then built thatched huts against the mountain and dug into the earth to make dwellings. Most of those who crossed the sea to escape the troubles sought refuge with Guan Ning, and within a few months a village had sprung up. The people studied the Book of Odes and the Book of Documents together, set out ritual vessels, put the rites in order, and cultivated deference and yielding. Guan Ning received no one who did not come to study.

Gongsun Du therefore respected Guan Ning’s virtue, and the people were also transformed by his example. In the villages near Guan Ning’s home, men and women often drew water from the same well and fought over their turn. Concerned, Guan Ning bought many water-drawing vessels and placed them beside the well so people could take turns, without letting anyone know he had arranged it. Later, when someone discovered what he had done and explained the reason, the people began reproaching one another and yielding their turns; they no longer fought. A neighbor’s ox trampled a field, so Guan Ning led it to a cool place and personally gave it food and water. The ox’s owner was deeply ashamed, feeling as though he had committed a grave offense. In this way, the custom of yielding spread across the sea.

In the fourth year of Huangchu (223), the court issued an edict calling for recommendations of men of lofty character who stood apart from the crowd. The Minister over the Masses, Hua Xin, recommended Guan Ning. The court appointed him Grand Palace Attendant, but he firmly declined. After Emperor Ming ascended the throne, Hua Xin became Grand Commandant, then resigned and yielded his position to Guan Ning. Guan Ning, too, declined, citing illness. From the time he crossed the sea to escape the turmoil until his return, Guan Ning sat year after year on a wooden couch for more than fifty years. He never sat casually with his legs crossed or stretched out. The place where his knees rested wore through the couch. Even after turning eighty, his resolve had not waned, and he felt no fatigue. He lived in a secluded lane and sustained himself on thin porridge, yet recited the Book of Odes and the Book of Documents with undiminished pleasure. In hardship he remained composed; whenever calamity struck, he found a way through it. Even amid danger and adversity, he never changed his principles. His character was like gold and jade, growing clearer with time. Looking over the course of his life, one might say Heaven had protected him.

The Hongdao lu comments: Confucius said, “If your words are faithful and trustworthy, and your conduct sincere and respectful, you can make your way even among the barbarians.” Guan Ning cultivated himself and nurtured his virtue, remaining true to himself in times of disorder and refusing to bend in times of peace. One could say that when the state followed the Way, he did not abandon the integrity he had maintained in hardship; when the state had lost the Way, he would not alter his principles even to the death. Hua Xin and Guan Ning initially refused to sit on the same mat with him; in the end, their conduct became worlds apart.

The Records of the Three Kingdoms recounts that after Liu Bei met Xu Shu in Xinye, Xu Shu returned and said to him, “There is a man here named Zhuge Kongming, a hidden dragon. Would the general be willing to meet him?”

At first Liu Bei said, “Please bring him here with you.” Xu Shu replied, “This is a man you may visit, but you cannot summon him. If the general wishes to meet him, he should humble himself and go in person.” Liu Bei agreed. He went to Longzhong himself to visit Zhuge Liang, and it took three visits before he saw him.

The Hongdao lu says: The top line of the Jian hexagram, which symbolizes hardship and obstruction, reads: “Going forward is difficult; returning brings gain. Good fortune. It is fitting to meet a great person.” By then, power had already shifted, and the Han dynasty’s fortunes were nearing their decline. Danger and hardship had reached their extreme. Liu Xuande (Liu Bei) had raised an army at great risk, found himself in straitened and difficult circumstances, and had no one he could rely on. Without a strong, perceptive talent and powerful assistance to help him cross danger and ease his difficulties, how could he have escaped his predicament? Thus the image of the Jian hexagram signals great good fortune, and its divination text says that it is fitting to meet a great person. There was a reason for the courtesy Liu Bei showed when he visited Zhuge Liang’s thatched cottage three times.

Xu Shu’s advice that Liu Bei visit Zhuge Liang certainly came from Xu Shu himself. Yet the plan to support the Liu house and the Han dynasty had been set in motion from the very beginning. Could this have been mere chance?

The Biography of Wang Tong’s Father, Wang Long, in the Zhongzi records that Wang Long carried on the work of the former kings and taught more than a thousand disciples. One day, he summoned Wang Tong by singing the poem “Felling Trees” and said, “From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, no one achieves anything without the help of friends.” From then on, Wang Tong resolved to travel far and wide, accomplish great deeds, and establish a career.

Wang Tong traveled to the eastern sea to study the Book of Documents with Li Yu, to Kuaiji to study the Book of Odes with Xia Tian, to Hedong to learn about ritual from Guan Lang, and to Beiping to study the proper forms of music with Huo Ji. He also studied the Book of Changes with his clan uncle Wang Zhonghua. With bold resolve, he set out to save the people of the world. Later, he traveled west to Chang’an, met Emperor Wen of Sui, and presented twelve proposals for governing the state and bringing peace to its people. He urged the emperor to follow the royal way and put sound statecraft into practice. The emperor did not accept his proposals, so Wang Tong returned to the region between the Yellow River and the Fen River to teach. There he carried forward and organized the Odes and the Documents, set ritual and music in order, revised the Six Classics, and expounded the Way of the Changes. After nine years, his studies reached completion, and disciples came from far and wide.

Among these disciples were Dong Chang from Henan, Yao Yi from Taishan, Du Yan from Jingzhao, Li Jing from Zhao Commandery, Cheng Yuan from Nanyang, Dou Wei from Fufeng, Xue Shou from Hedong, Jia Qiong from Zhongshan, Fang Xuanling from Qinghe, Wei Zheng from Julu, Wen Taiya from Taiyuan, and Chen Shutong from Yingchuan. They all honored him as their teacher, observing the rites of discipleship. Wang Tong’s cousin Wang Gui said, “After great disorder, a great sage should surely appear. Those who have studied ritual and music through the generations and upheld our literary tradition—who could there be besides our family?” The original text breaks off here.

The disciples discussed among themselves, saying, “Our teacher must surely have been a person of supreme virtue. Since Confucius, there has been no one like him.” The Book of Changes says, “A yellow robe brings the greatest good fortune, because patterned virtue is held within.” They therefore bestowed on their teacher the posthumous title “Wenzhongzi.” The disciples wore mourning garments of the lighter grade, set up a spirit tablet, and mournfully saw him off.

The Hongdao lu says: On examination, Wang Ji, the Master of Donggao, once wrote in a letter to Chen Shuda, Minister of Works, that in the early Zhenguan era, when Wang Ning served as Investigating Censor, he impeached Hou Junji. The matter implicated Changsun Wuji, Grand Commandant, and Changsun was consequently found guilty. At the time, Du Yan was Censor-in-Chief. He once submitted a secret memorial stating that Wang Ning had committed no offense by speaking frankly in remonstrance. Changsun Wuji and Du Yan thus became estranged, and the Wang brothers were also held back and given no appointments.

Later, when Chen Shuda compiled the History of the Sui, he also concealed the “Family Biography of Wenzhongzi,” which Du Yan had written, and did not publish it, for fear of the Grand Commandant’s power. On another occasion, Wei Zheng entered the palace to discuss state affairs. Seeing Changsun Wuji there, he asked, “Was the case of Hou Junji truly unjust? Should a censor be punished in the same way for reporting it? If the matter is true, what has the Grand Commandant to fear?” Only then did Changsun Wuji’s attitude soften somewhat. Hou Junji was indeed put to death later.

In light of this, Wang Tong, known as Wenzhongzi, suffered no major misfortune during his lifetime, so it is hardly surprising that the histories did not record him. But why did the woodcutter—the compiler of the Comprehensive Records—follow the old precedent and leave him out of his work as well? What, then, is so precious about the achievements of gentlemen who write books and establish teachings that they become a blessing to literary and educational culture for a thousand generations? The Hongdao lu records these words.

The History of the Tang, in its “Biographies of Confucian Scholars,” records that in the sixth year of Zhenguan, the emperor issued an edict honoring Confucius as the “Former Sage” and Yan Hui as the “Former Teacher,” and summoning eminent elder Confucian scholars from across the realm to serve as instructors. The emperor repeatedly visited the academy to observe the Shicai ceremony, in which vegetables and other offerings were presented to the Former Teachers. He ordered the libationer of the Directorate of Education and the Erudites to discuss the meaning of the Classics, and bestowed grain and silk. Students who mastered one Classic could be appointed to minor official posts. The court expanded the school buildings by 1,200 rooms, and the number of students reached 3,200. Talented people from all directions, carrying books and shouldering book bags, gathered in the capital. The flourishing of literary and educational governance was remarkable: scholars dressed neatly, conducted themselves with decorum, and discussed matters calmly and coherently. Even in the flourishing eras of the Three Dynasties, such a scene had never been heard of.

The Hongdao lu says: Since antiquity, people have received instruction from their ruler, father, and teacher, and should revere all three equally. It can be said that Emperor Taizong of Tang did not fail in his duties as ruler and teacher. Yet how could he have known that the Way of the gentleman is vast and also too profound to see clearly? Beyond the realm, Gaochang, Baekje, Silla, and Tibet all sent their young people to study. Within the palace, however, amid the inner chambers and walls, there remained grounds for shame in matters of virtue. Even the greatest person in the world has regrets. Those who came to study with books in hand and book bags on their backs certainly did not…

Just as eagles soar high and fish leap from the water, each finding its place, this natural harmony was less evident in the Tang than in the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties.

In the seventeenth year of the Zhenguan era, the court prescribed the protocol for the crown prince’s visits to the Three Tutors: the Grand Tutor, the Grand Preceptor, and the Grand Guardian. The crown prince was to meet them outside the palace gate and bow first; the Three Tutors would return the bow. At each gate, he was to let them pass ahead of him. He could sit only after they had taken their seats. When writing to them, he was also to place his name at both the beginning and the end of the letter, and describe himself as apprehensive.

The Hongdao lu comments: Emperor Taizong’s respect for the Three Tutors was, one might say, scrupulous. When he appointed Wang Gui as tutor to the Prince of Wei, he bowed first himself; he did the same when appointing Fang Xuanling as tutor to the crown prince. Later, he made these courtesies into rules for his descendants to observe from generation to generation. Yet why were they cast aside so soon after being established? What was the reason?

The institution of the Three Tutors began in the Zhou dynasty. The Duke of Zhou possessed the virtue of a sage and, in his public capacity, guided Boqin, his son, through established laws and regulations. In this way, the way of the teacher was established. As for Li Ji, the emperor treated him as someone to be ordered about at will, and Li Ji responded in kind. Seen this way, the bows and courtesies, the entering and withdrawing, the sitting and standing, and the pace of each movement were no more than acting on a stage or performing tricks. What was there to respect? Before long, a ruler might humiliate his tutor at court; the “disaster of the five princes”—the calamity that befell several Tang imperial princes—would not be far off. This is the point of the passage in the Hongdao lu.

When Gao Shilian served as governor of Yizhou, he held gatherings for literary discussion, inviting Confucian scholars to lecture on the classics and histories and encouraging younger students. The local schools flourished again, and the whole region took on a fresh appearance.

A man named Zhu Taochui lived in seclusion, held no office, and led a poor life among ordinary people. When Dou Gui was stationed in Yizhou, he heard of Zhu and summoned him, gave him clothes, and even compelled him to take the local post of village head. Zhu said nothing. He threw the clothes on the ground and fled into the mountains. In summer he went naked; in winter he covered himself with tree bark. He accepted no gifts. He often left straw sandals he had made by the roadside. Those who found them would say, “These are the sandals of a lay cultivator.” Someone would sell them on his behalf and leave the rice in the same spot. Zhu would come to collect the rice at night, but never agreed to meet anyone.

Some considered him a recluse like Jiao Guang. After taking office, Gao Shilian invited him with due courtesy. When Zhu arrived, Gao stepped down from the steps to speak with him and often sent officials to inquire after him. In recent times, most people had held recluses in contempt, but Gao Shilian showed them particular respect. The story became a celebrated one in Shu.

The Hongdao lu comments: Shu still bore the influence of frontier customs; the efforts of Wen Weng alone, or the example of Yan Junping, could not change it. To make the greedy upright and the timid resolute, one must take those of the lowest standing seriously if one hopes to influence the prevailing customs. And if those of the highest standing are unwilling to humble themselves and yield, it is difficult to…

This revealed another side of his work as a teacher. He treated scholars of humble standing with respect, and his conduct became the subject of a celebrated story.

During the Huichang era, Bai Letian (Bai Juyi) lived in Luoyang. Along with Hu Ji, Liu Zheng, Lu Zhang, and three others, he was one of the city’s long-lived elders. They held the “Gathering of the Esteemed by Age” in Ludao Ward of the Eastern Capital—a refined gathering where precedence was given according to age. Two other elders, Li Yuanshuang and the monk Ruman, joined them. They recorded the gathering’s name, exchanged poems in response to one another, and had portraits made of everyone present to commemorate the occasion as a grand event.

In the Song dynasty, Du Qigong (Du Yan), Wang Huan of Taiyuan, Bi Shichang of Hedong, Zhu Guan of Pei, and Feng Ping of Shiping were all advanced in years and had left office to live in retirement. In their leisure, they formed the “Five Elders’ Gathering of Suiyang,” exchanging poems, enjoying one another’s company, and having portraits painted as mementos.

During the Yuanfeng era, the Duke of Lu, Wen Yanbo, held high office and great wealth, yet he was habitually humble and respectful toward others. He honored men of virtue and took pleasure in doing good, as though afraid he had not done enough. Shao Yong, Cheng Hao, and Cheng Yi valued their own moral character and learning; Wen Yanbo treated them as friends he had known before entering public life.

At that time, Fu Bi retired with the rank of Minister of Works and invited Luoyang’s most senior and respected ministers and officials to form the “Gathering of Worthy Elders.” At their meetings, age determined precedence, not official rank. They built a great hall at Zisheng Monastery, called it the “Hall of Worthy Elders,” and painted portraits of the members inside. Wang Gongchen, a commissioner of the Palace Secretariat who was then stationed in Beijing, wrote to Wen Yanbo asking to join. Sima Guang was the only member not yet seventy. Wen Yanbo had always held him in high regard, so he made a special request for him to join. The gathering had thirteen members in all.

Luoyang had many famous gardens and ancient monasteries, with beautiful scenery among their waters, bamboo, trees, and pavilions. When the elders gathered, their white eyebrows and beards and their dignified, neatly arranged robes drew crowds of people from the city who came to watch. Wen Yanbo also organized a “Gathering of Those Born in the Same Year.” Its members were Sima Dan, a Gentleman of the Palace, Cheng Xiang, the Grand Master of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and Xi Ruyan, Minister of Works. All three had been born in the year bingwu, and their portraits were also painted at Zisheng Monastery. Sima Guang organized a “Gathering of Natural Simplicity” as well. These were all celebrated events in Luoyang during a time of peace.

Scholars and common people also built a living shrine for Wen Yanbo at Zisheng Monastery. They took a line from a poem the Shenzong Emperor had sent him, wishing him success in governing Henan, and named the hall “Hall of the Longed-for Gallbladder.” They placed a statue of him inside. The figure wore a cap and carried a sword, its bearing solemn and dignified; the people of the city respectfully worshipped him there.

The Hongdao lu records: “Luoyang lies at the center of the realm. How long has it been since we saw the image of peace described in the Book of Odes in the line ‘The ducks and gulls are already drunk’? These elders are the vital force of the state and models of an age of peace. The good names of Boyi and the Grand Duke of Zhou need not belong to the ancients alone.” These events were therefore recorded.

The Song Mingchen lu records that Yang Shi heard that the brothers Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi were teaching the learning of Confucius and Mencius, which had long since been lost…

He was reassigned to an official post in the Heluo region but did not take it up. Later, he paid a visit to Cheng Hao, the Northern Song Neo-Confucian, in Yingchang, according him the respect due to a teacher. The two got along very well. As they parted, Cheng Hao watched him leave and said, “My teachings are going to spread south.” After Cheng Hao’s death, he went to Luoyang and studied under Cheng Yi, Cheng Hao’s younger brother. By then, he was already forty years old.

One day, Cheng Yi happened to sit quietly with his eyes closed. You Zuo, who was studying with him, stood waiting nearby and did not leave. When Cheng Yi awoke, the snow outside the door had piled up a foot deep.

The Hongdao lu comments: Mencius said that people brought to allegiance through Virtue are glad in their hearts and sincerely convinced, just as Confucius’s seventy disciples were devoted to him. Is the story of standing in the snow at Cheng’s gate not a beautiful tale passed down through the ages?

Biographies: Chen Shidao

When Chen Shidao was sixteen, he brought his writing to Zeng Nanfeng. Zeng recognized at once that he was exceptional, praised his work, and hoped he would stay and study with him. During the Xining era, the Wang school of classical interpretation was in vogue. Chen did not agree with its teachings, so he gave up seeking official distinction. He was upright and principled, held fast to his integrity, and was content in poverty, finding joy in the pursuit of the Way. When he first traveled to the capital to study, he never called at the homes of the powerful.

Fu Yaoyu wanted to meet him, so he asked Qin Guan about him. Qin Guan said, “He is not the sort to carry a calling card, bowing and smiling as he waits at a minister’s gate for an audience. I fear it will be hard to persuade him to come.” Fu Yaoyu replied, “I don’t expect him to come to me. I intend to visit him; I’m only afraid he won’t see me. Can you introduce us?” Fu Yaoyu also knew how poor Chen Shidao was and brought money to give him. But after meeting him and hearing him speak, Fu respected him even more and did not dare take out the money.

Zhang Dun planned to recommend Chen Shidao to the court and also asked Qin Guan to invite him over. Chen replied, “You tell me that Lord Zhang is willing to lower himself and invite me with due courtesy. How could someone like me receive such treatment? Could you be deceiving me? It has always been the way that ministers and nobles refuse to humble themselves and show courtesy to scholars. Now, though, someone is personally treating me with respect. What could be more fortunate? I may not be worthy to count among the scholars, but I have always followed at your side. Yet the rule set by our teacher is this: if a scholar does not present a proper gift of introduction, he will not receive princes or ministers. I hope scholars will keep to this rule for generations. Lord Zhang and I were once separated by rank, and afterward we had no everyday ties of friendship. Though Lord Zhang wishes to see me, can I disregard propriety for that reason? Besides, Lord Zhang invited me precisely because I can uphold this small matter of propriety. If I were heedless and rash, rushing to his door at his summons, I would give up the very reason he invited me. What would be commendable in that? Even so, I hope that one day Lord Zhang will complete his service, leave office, and return east in plain clothes. Then I will wait for him outside the eastern gate, driving a humble ox cart with a low carriage. That will not be too late.” In the end, he did not go.

The Hongdao Lu records that Wan Zhang asked, “Why does one not go to pay a visit to the feudal lords?” Mencius replied, “A commoner who serves in the capital is called a ‘servant of the marketplace’; a commoner who lives in the countryside is called a ‘servant of the fields.’ Both terms refer to ordinary people. Unless the people have first sent a gift to request an audience, they cannot go to see a feudal lord in the capacity of subjects; this is the proper ritual. It is also said: ‘If the ruler summons me to serve, that accords with right principle; if I go of my own accord to seek an audience, it does not.’ And again: ‘Besides, why does the ruler wish to see me? Is it because I am widely learned, or because I am virtuous?’ If that is so, even the Son of Heaven does not summon his own teacher. How much less should a feudal lord do so? This ritual propriety has long since fallen out of esteem.

Take Zeng Nanfeng (Zeng Qi) as an example. The histories say that his conduct and moral principles were not equal to his administrative ability, and that his administrative ability was not equal to his writing. Others need hardly be mentioned. Thus, he was appreciated for his writing as soon as he was encountered, yet he was not known for his integrity and moral commitment. But in his devotion to the way of the teacher, he observed the rites with deep sincerity. He wrote poems to express his respect, as though offering a stick of incense, and grieved that he had not been able to serve his teacher for the full span of his life. He held firmly to faith and righteousness; few could equal him. Alas, such a person may be said to have surpassed his teacher.

The “Preface to Li Shimi’s Farewell Gift,” written by Wang Zhi of the Ming dynasty, says: In the twelfth year of Zhengtong, Master Li, the Director of the Imperial Academy, asked to retire. The students of the academy’s six colleges were at a loss, as though they had lost their support. For the previous five or six years, they had received Master Li’s instruction and benefited from his kindness, and they loved and respected him as they did their parents. When he was about to leave, they could do nothing to stop him, so they presented their case to the court. They gathered his usual deeds into ten themes, commissioned skilled painters to illustrate them, and asked officials serving at court to write inscriptions describing his conduct and achievements.

More than two thousand teachers and students from the Imperial Academy came to see him off. Musicians from the Court Entertainment Bureau beat large drums, while bells, chimes, strings, and pipes played along; the music rang out as it led the procession. Onlookers from near and far crowded the roads. Travellers could not pass, and merchants closed their shops. People praised the sight repeatedly, calling it a great honor; some were even moved to tears. They felt that in the seventy or eighty years since the dynasty’s founding, they had never seen such a magnificent occasion. The story has been passed down to later generations, a fitting testament to the admirable custom of honoring the worthy in our own time and a source of glory for the state.

The Hongdao Lu also records that a Song dynasty minister said, “Giving someone outward signs of respect is less valuable than treating them with wholehearted sincerity.” Consider how, when Master Li, the Director of the Imperial Academy, departed, officials wore their ceremonial robes and saw him off with music and ritual. The streets and markets were packed with people: what a grand spectacle! Yet in the following year, during the Ji-si upheaval, troops and armed men filled the valleys: what weakness that revealed! If only upright men could be made to…

This trust ought to be cherished and retained at court. Then perhaps treacherous men could be eliminated, and plots brought to an end and blocked. But what could be done? He had only just removed the wooden cangue, an ancient instrument of punishment, and asked to retire to his hometown when his illness grew steadily worse, until it became incurable. Ah, only after reading these words do we understand what led him to prostrate himself before the palace and call out to the guards at its gates. In the end, these words became a piece of empty flattery that a powerful and treacherous official had no choice but to write, in order to exalt the Master. This shows that those who presented the encomium at the time regarded it as a fine act of honoring a worthy man, while people of insight were in fact lamenting the peril of the state. This, too, should not go unrecognized.

The Record of Eminent Ming Officials says: “The Honorable Wu Wending, Minister of Rites, Wu Kuan, was born with exceptional gifts. Before reaching adulthood, he entered the prefectural school. While his peers were all busy preparing for the examinations, he alone read widely and composed classical prose and poetry; his writing showed maturity from the very first stroke. Yet he repeatedly failed the examinations and nearly gave up on an official career, deciding to stop sitting for them. Later, Chen Xuan of Tiantai, who oversaw education in the Southern Capital region around Nanjing during the Ming dynasty, recognized his extraordinary talent and ordered the relevant officials to invite him respectfully and urge him to travel to the capital to take the examinations. Once there, he placed third in the provincial examination, first in the metropolitan examination, and then earned the top degree in the palace examination.

“Earlier, Wu Kuan had entered the Imperial Academy as a tribute student. Zhang Rubi of Donghai saw him and exclaimed, ‘Can there really be a tribute student like this in the world?’ Bian Huabo of Jiangyin also wrote the line, ‘I bow my head and pay homage to Dongye,’ to express his respect. Xu Wugong was proud and free-spirited, and rarely acknowledged anyone readily. Yet he, too, set aside his pride to befriend Wu Kuan, calling him a man suited to the Hanlin Academy. After Wu Kuan entered the Hanlin, each of his works quickly spread throughout the land. The higher his office rose, the greater his reputation became. Scholars called him Master Pao’an.”

The Record says: “‘Ritual’ means to encourage and bring forth. Wu Wending waited a long time for his opportunity. Later, men of discernment stepped forward to invite him respectfully and urge him to sit the examinations. This was far beyond the ordinary courtesies shown to others. As a result, his talent came to light all at once, and his reputation rose rapidly. This shows how could one take lightly the proper treatment of scholars? How could one take it lightly?”

The commoner Chen Zhensheng was from Longxi in Zhangzhou. Born by the sea, he was tall and upright, with a grave yet clear expression; he did not look like a man of the dusty world. At seventeen or eighteen, he had already left worldly habits behind and devoted himself to Confucian learning. After completing his studies, he initially intended to sit the examinations and sought a recommendation from the authorities. But the officials in Fujian examined candidates too harshly and showed no respect to scholars, so he took his leave and returned home. From then on, he no longer made the examinations his aim, and instead devoted himself to putting the teachings of the sages and worthies into practice. Later, Zhang Yuanzhen of Jiangxi sought his instruction and praised him highly, saying, “Zhen…”

I dare not presumptuously claim that, since Cheng (Cheng Yi) and Zhu (Zhu Xi), only this master attained true transmission. Masters Wu and Xu (Wu Xu erzi yi bu shi) may not have fully achieved it either. He then returned to Zhenhai (Zhenhai).

Although most people of Putian (Putian) esteemed Confucian learning, the scholarly climate only gradually became sincere and substantial after he began lecturing as a commoner. He studied and practiced Zhu Xi's (Wengong) family rites (jiali) together with elders of his village, such as Li Wenju (Li Wenju), and local customs began to be set right. This spirit continues to be passed down to the present day.

The Hongdao Lu (Hongdao Lu, Record of Broadening the Way) comments: Li Wenyi (Li Wenyi) gave gifts to his disciples in order to honor his teacher, while Wu Wending (Wu Wending) sincerely bid farewell to his teacher in order to respect his disciple. As for Chen Shengfu (Chen Shengfu) yielding to his friend's inclinations, this was not the courtesy between teacher and student, but rather he conducted himself as a friend. All three episodes display the ritual propriety (liyi) indispensable to friendship. The text ends here.

Note: The original contains the phrase "Wu Xu erzi yi bu shi," where the meaning and punctuation are not entirely clear. The rendering above follows the surrounding context to produce a coherent reading.