《弘道錄》Vol. 35

A Father and Son’s Wisdom

The Book of Tang records that in the fourth month of the summer of the twenty-third year of Zhenguan (649), Emperor Taizong of Tang fell ill. He said to the Crown Prince, “Li Shiji, a Tang court official whose original name was Xu Shiji, has ample talent and intelligence, but you have shown him no kindness, so he will not truly submit to you. I am demoting him now. If he sets out for his post at once, then after I die you should reinstate him, appoint him as puyi—the head of the Department of State Affairs—and trust him. If he hesitates and waits to see what happens, you should have him killed.” Taizong then appointed Li Shiji governor of Diezhou. On receiving the edict, Li Shiji did not return home; he set out for his post immediately.

The Record comments: Emperor Taizong of Tang failed to protect his descendants, and he brought this upon himself. Before he had put into effect his instructions to the Crown Prince, he had already disclosed his plan concerning Li Shiji. In effect, he was teaching the Crown Prince to use political tricks to win people over. Taizong was skilled at strategy and at employing talent, but poor at discerning people’s true nature. Those who were trusted allies today could become enemies tomorrow, and schemes that seemed clever today could become the source of disaster tomorrow. Taizong thought he had arranged everything properly, but failed to consider this: if Li Shiji could readily defy Taizong, how could anyone be sure he would not later betray the Crown Prince?

At first, Taizong merely cut off a lock of his beard, believing he was acting for the good of the state. He did not realize that someone who let himself be used like a hawk or hound might still have plans of his own. In the end, he again tried to use his old method of dealing with Li Shiji to secure lasting stability for the Liu imperial house. This was truly absurd. Since the matter concerned the ancestral temples and state altars of the Tang dynasty, it must be recorded.

In the first year of Ruizong’s reign (710), the emperor was preparing to appoint a Crown Prince. The Prince of Song, Li Chengqi, was the eldest son born to the empress, while Prince Ping, Li Longji, had rendered great service. The emperor could not decide. Li Chengqi declined the position, saying, “When the state is at peace, the eldest son born to the empress should be appointed first. When the state is in peril, the person who has rendered great service should come first. If the proper course is ignored, people throughout the realm will be disappointed. Even if I were to die, I would not dare to place myself above Prince Ping.” For several days he repeatedly wept and refused. Most of the ministers also believed that Prince Ping’s achievements were great and that he was the most suitable choice for Crown Prince.

Liu Youqiu said, “I have heard that those who put an end to turmoil and pacify the realm should enjoy its blessings. Prince Ping rescued the ancestral altars and state from danger, and saved the ruler and his family from peril. No one surpasses him in merit, and in virtue he is the most worthy. There is no reason to doubt what should be done.” The emperor accepted his advice and appointed Prince Ping, Li Longji, as Crown Prince.

The Record comments: Everyone says that the restoration of the Prince of Luling rebuilt the Tang realm, but they do not realize that the foundation of this restoration was Prince Ping, Li Longji, being appointed Crown Prince.

Zhen, the Thunder hexagram, symbolizes the eldest son. Li Jiancheng, Li Chengqian, and Prince Li Zhong were all mediocre and inferior, with nothing outstanding about them. They were just as the hexagram statement says: “Thunder brings trembling and alarmed, darting eyes.” They were bound to meet their end.

Emperor Zhongzong was especially dull and foolish. At first, he endured humiliation without feeling shame, bowed his head in submission, and let himself be deposed. Later, he lived amid anxiety and neglect, yet did not know how to restrain himself; he was controlled by his wife and children and failed to take care. This is just as the hexagram statement says: “Thunder drives one into the mud; the way ahead is still not bright.”

When Xuanzong came to power, he rose up in anger, startling many wicked men and releasing the upright energy he had long kept in reserve. The old foundation laid by Emperor Shenyao—Li Yuan, Emperor Gaozu of Tang—was thereby preserved. This is just as the hexagram statement says: “Thunder startles for a hundred li, yet the sacrificial spoon and libation remain undropped.” Such a person can protect the ancestral temple and the state, and serve as the presiding celebrant in its rites. From this, we can see that this line of the Zhen hexagram speaks of someone capable of bearing great responsibility.

Consider also the story of Quan Gao. Quan Gao was the father of the Tang chancellor Quan Deyu. Recommended for office on account of his talent and reputation, he later became a subordinate of An Lushan. He secretly realized that An Lushan harbored rebellious intentions, but feared his cruelty and wanted to slip away. He also worried that disaster might befall his elderly mother. By chance, An Lushan sent him to the capital to present prisoners. On the way, he passed through Fuchang County, where the county lieutenant Zhong Mo was married to his maternal cousin. Quan Gao quietly consulted Zhong Mo about a plan. When he reached Heyang, he pretended to be gravely ill and summoned Zhong Mo. After Zhong Mo arrived, Quan Gao feigned grief and personally arranged his own funeral. In this way, Quan Gao escaped. The coffin was in fact empty, but no one else knew the truth. When officials, acting on an imperial order, escorted Quan Gao’s mother back, she initially knew nothing of what had happened. When she heard the news, she wept in anguish. An Lushan therefore grew suspicious of nothing and allowed her to leave. Quan Gao then changed into ordinary clothes, concealed his whereabouts, and waited for his mother at Qimen. They fled south by night and day. By the time they crossed the Yangtze, An Lushan had already launched his rebellion.

Quan Gao’s name thus became known throughout the land. Gao Shi, an investigating commissioner, submitted a memorial recommending him for the post of judicial adviser. Later, when Prince Li Lin rebelled and frequently seized scholar-officials, Quan Gao changed his name again and escaped. After hearing of his deeds in Shu, Xuanzong praised him. Scholar-officials such as Li Hua and Liu Shi all admired Quan Gao’s character, believing that he alone was enough to distinguish good from evil throughout the realm.

Quan Deyu could compose poetry at the age of four and was known for his filial piety at seven. By the age of fifteen, he had written hundreds of pieces, and his reputation continued to grow. Han Hui recruited him as an aide in his headquarters. Later, he passed the examinations and entered the Secretariat Library, eventually rising to Minister of Rites and Tong Zhongshu Menxia Pingzhangshi, a chancellor. From the Zhenyuan era through the Yuanhe era, he served at court for thirty years with dignified bearing. He was upright and generous, making no attempt to conceal his words or actions. His composed manner and exceptional presence won him the praise of his contemporaries. He was especially skilled in writing and had read widely in the Six Classics and the works of the various schools…

Yong Jian’s writings were elegant and dignified, and wide-ranging in their content. People of his time all regarded him as a master.

The Hongdao Lu says: “In my view, when Quan Gao fell into enemy captivity, he seemed to have no good options. Yet in the end he preserved himself and was able to serve his parents. He not only safeguarded his integrity and reputation; his good fortune also extended to later generations. Han Hui and Wang Dingchang both once assessed Quan Gao, saying he was fit to serve as a chancellor or tutor to the heir apparent. Their words were no idle talk. Quan Gao and his son were renowned for their loyalty and filial virtue, and became models for the court. Was he not a wise and far-seeing gentleman?”

Fu Lingqi’s son, Fu Lin, initially served as a divine general in Lulong. After unrest broke out in Youzhou, Fu Lingqi went over to Tian Yue, military governor of Zhaoyi. Tian Yue refused orders to submit to the court. Fu Lingqi privately told Fu Lin, “I have seen much of the world. Ever since An Lushan and Shi Siming rebelled against the law, the people have suffered enormous casualties. I think the Tian family will soon meet its end. If you can enter the service of the court and become a loyal servant of the Tang, I too can win a name that will be remembered by later generations.”

Fu Lin wept and said, “Tian Yue is cruel, and disaster is clearly about to befall him. It is terrifying.” Fu Lingqi said, “The court’s armies are now closing in on us from every side. We are already like meat on a chopping board. If you do not leave, after I die my bones will be piled up on rebel territory. What more is there to say?” Fu Lin then bit his arm and took leave of his father.

At that time, the court sent Ma Sui to campaign against Tian Yue, and Fu Lin surrendered to him. Tian Yue was furious. He harshly rebuked Fu Lin for forgetting his benefactor and betraying his lord, and said he would soon meet his death. Fu Lingqi said, “I taught my son to follow the right path. Even if that costs him his life, what is there to regret?” He was killed soon afterward. Ma Sui appointed Fu Lin deputy commander, and the court issued an edict conferring on him the title of Grandee of the Palace and the rank of Prince of Yiyang Commandery. Fu Lin also submitted a memorial pleading his father’s case, and the court posthumously bestowed on Fu Lingqi the titles of Left Attendant Gentleman of the Scattered Cavalry and Minister of Revenue.

The Hongdao Lu says: “Compared with the cases of Quan Gao and the others, Fu Lingqi truly died, while Quan Gao was merely taken captive. The histories did not include Fu Lingqi among those with outstanding achievements. Was it perhaps because his son did not become a chancellor? I record this account here for that reason.”

The History of the Song records that Cao Can and Cao Wei were both sons of Cao Bin. Cao Can was steady, resolute, and resourceful. Cao Bin thought he greatly resembled himself and especially favored him. Cao Can later served as military governor of Heyang and as a Tongping Zhangshi. Cao Wei was brave, composed, and strategic. He loved reading, knew the Three Commentaries on the Spring and Autumn Annals, and was especially well versed in the Zuo Commentary.

When Li Jiqian rebelled, several generals led campaigns but failed to win. Emperor Taizong of Song asked who could command the troops. Cao Bin replied, “My younger son, Cao Wei, is up to the task.” Taizong summoned Cao Wei and appointed him prefect of Weizhou while retaining his existing post. Cao Wei was then nineteen.

When Cao Bin fell gravely ill, Emperor Zhenzong of Song visited him. They spoke of what should happen after his death, and Cao Bin replied, “I have nothing else to say. Both my sons are capable and can be appointed to office. If I were to recommend them, either would be fit to serve as a general.” The emperor asked which of the two was more outstanding. Cao Bin replied, “Cao Can is not as good as Cao Wei.”

Later, Shi Wei distinguished himself through his service, and he and Shi Bin were both enshrined together in the Imperial Ancestral Temple. Shi Bin lived during the reign of Emperor Taizu, while Shi Wei lived during the reign of Emperor Renzong.

As the saying goes, "No one knows a son better than his father." The compiler comments that Shi Bin was Shi Wei's colleague and also his senior. Could it be that when he recommended Shi Wei, he had already foreseen that Shi Wei would not attach himself to Ding Wei? For this reason, Shi Bin would rather belong to Kou Zhun's faction than to Ding Wei's clique. Even when Kou Zhun's followers were guilty, they still felt honored; even when Ding Wei's followers were exalted, they were still held in contempt, because they were ashamed of their own conduct. This was not only an auspicious sign for the state, but also a model for the upright ministers of the court.

Shi Wei once secretly observed Zhao Yuanhao of the Western Xia, who was later known as Li Yuanhao and originally bore the surname Zhao, and concluded that he would certainly rebel. He said to the Privy Councilor Wang Zong: "In my early years in Shaanxi, I heard that Zhao Deming, Yuanhao's father, often sent people to trade horses with the border people for goods. Yuanhao, then only in his teens, advised his father, saying, 'We Rong people make our living by fighting on horseback, yet we exchange our war horses for the useless goods of neighboring states. This is already not a sound strategy. Moreover, if these horses are slaughtered, who among the border people will still be willing to serve us?' Deming followed his advice. From this, Shi Wei privately speculated, 'This boy wishes to attract talented men, so he must have ambitions beyond the ordinary.' Hearing that Yuanhao often went back and forth at the border markets, Shi Wei repeatedly sent people to invite him, but never managed to meet him. So he had a skilled portrait painter draw Yuanhao's likeness so that he could study it. When the portrait was finished, Shi Wei sighed, 'This man is truly outstanding, and in the future he will surely become a threat on our borders.' This took place while Shi Wei was serving as chief minister. Wang Zong did not agree at the time, but later he sighed in admiration at Shi Wei's far-sighted insight.

The compiler comments that this shows not only that Shi Wei fell short of Shi Bin, but also that Wang Zong's judgment was lacking. Shi Bin may be said to have never failed the people he recommended.

Xiang Minzhong's father, Xiang Yu, personally taught and urged him, never showing him a warm expression, and often said, "The one who will bring glory to our family name is this child." As an adult, Xiang Minzhong was imposing in appearance and gentle in temperament. He was clever and resourceful, well versed in civil administration, and skilled at handling complex affairs. He held important posts for thirty years, and people respected his character, while the emperor also treated him with special favor. Therefore, even when he encountered misfortune, he was never dismissed. He once rose to the post of Right Pushe concurrently Vice Director of the Chancellery. Emperor Zhenzong said to the scholar Li Zongo, "Since I ascended the throne, I have never appointed a pushe. Now that I am appointing Minzhong, this is an extraordinary favor. Minzhong will surely be overjoyed upon receiving the appointment, and many guests will come to congratulate him. You may go and see, but do not say that this was my intention." When Li Zongo arrived at Xiang's residence, he found the gate quiet and cold, so he went in to offer congratulations, saying, "Today I heard that the court has issued the decree of appointment, and all the gentlemen are delighted." Xiang Minzhong only responded repeatedly and mentioned that "His Majesty paid special attention to this matter," which shows that Zhenzong's regard for him was out of the ordinary.

After Emperor Zhenzong came to the throne, Xiang Minzhong, a distinguished official of the Northern Song, was never appointed chancellor. Someone asked him, “Your achievements are outstanding, your reputation is high, and the emperor’s trust in you is especially deep. Why is this?” Minzhong only replied briefly, then repeatedly listed the achievements, virtues, and honors of earlier officials who had served as puye, a title comparable to chancellor. He still said nothing on his own behalf. Such were, in essence, his political judgment and caution.

He had five sons: Chuanzheng, Chuanshi, Chuanliang, Chuanshi, and Chuanfan. Chuanliang’s daughter later became Empress Qingsheng Xiansu. Xiang Minzhong was later posthumously awarded titles and ranks on several occasions. Chuanliang was made Prince of Yan; the Prince of Zhou was Chuanliang’s son, and the Prince of Wu was his grandson. All three enjoyed great distinction in their time.

The Record says: Among the relatives by marriage of the Song emperors, some were known for benevolence, some for wisdom, and some for courage. To be benevolent without being indulgent, wise without relying on lucky chances, and courageous without acting rashly—these are the qualities to prize. Bin was honest and upright without boasting: benevolent, yet not indulgent. Minzhong was even-tempered, generous, and resourceful: wise, yet not given to grasping at lucky chances. Qiong had fourteen sons and taught them all to read: courageous, yet not reckless. If these qualities are not valued, and one seeks only beauty, how can one expect harmony between husband and wife or worthy descendants?

Lü Yijian and his son Lü Gongzhu both served as Sikong and Pingzhangshi, senior official posts. Since the founding of the Song, four men had been granted one of the Three Ducal titles and also served as Pingzhangshi; two of them were from the Lü family. Scholars all envied the family’s glory. Lü Yijian’s father, Lü Mengheng, was the younger brother of Lü Mengzheng. During the Xiangfu era, Emperor Zhenzong performed the fengshan rites on Mount Tai and visited Lü Mengzheng’s residence. He asked, “Which of your sons is fit for office?” Lü Mengzheng replied, “None of my sons is fit for appointment. I have a nephew, Lü Yijian, whose abilities are sufficient for the office of chancellor.” Lü Yijian thus became known.

From his youth, Lü Gongzhu, courtesy name Huishu, took the cultivation of the mind as his foundation. He was indifferent to fame, profit, and a life of luxury. In summer he did not fan himself; in winter he did not sit close to a brazier. He was simple and steady in manner, quiet and even-tempered—qualities that were perhaps natural to him. His insight was penetrating and keen, and he was skilled at making decisions when matters arose. When something benefited the state, he would not be swayed by personal gain or loss. When he met scholar-officials who considered identifying worthy people their duty, he would ask whom they knew or had heard about, then compare and investigate their accounts before reporting the findings. In discussing affairs of state, he drew widely on others’ strengths and brought them together into sound policies.

Emperor Shenzong once said that Lü judged people without bias, as evenly as a balance weighs objects. He was especially skilled at avoiding entanglement in people’s reputations and records of their deeds, and did not make a reputation for himself as a discerning judge of character. Sima Guang also said, “Whenever I hear Huishu speak, I feel that my own words are too verbose.” Such was the respect he commanded.

The Record says: In my view, Duke Xu, Lü Yijian, was understood not only by Duke Wenmu, but also by Duke Wang Wenzheng…

Su Xun, a writer of the Northern Song, says in “On the Names of My Two Sons”: The wheels, spokes, canopy, and carriage body each have their own function. Only the crossbar at the front of the carriage, which a passenger can lean on, seems to do nothing. Yet if it were removed, I have never seen a carriage that remained whole. Su Shi, I fear you do not know how to conceal your brilliance. Every carriage in the world leaves tracks, but when people speak of a carriage’s achievements, they do not count its tracks among them. Even so, when a carriage overturns and its horses die, the calamity does not befall the tracks. The tracks stand between calamity and good fortune. Su Zhe, I know you will escape calamity.

In “Record of a Wooden Mountain,” he also says: My family has a wooden model of a mountain with three peaks. I often ponder it and feel that some kind of destiny must be at work in it. It grew branches without being damaged and became a tree so large it would take two people to embrace, yet was not cut down in its prime. It could have served as a roof beam, but was never felled. Torn up by violent winds and swept along by floods, it was not broken, damaged, or left to rot. No one cut it down for timber; later, it escaped the rapids and sandbanks without being taken for firewood by woodcutters or villagers. That it has survived to this day seems no accident.

I cherish this wooden mountain and have been moved by what I see in it. The central peak is tall and upright, with a dignified bearing, as though it could command the assent of the two peaks beside it. The side peaks are grave and stern, steep and forbidding, inspiring no one to treat them lightly. Though their forms defer to the central peak, they still rise high, without any air of clinging to it or currying favor. Ah, they are truly worthy of respect, and truly moving.

The Hongdao lu comments: The histories say that if Su Shi had restrained his brilliance a little, he ought to have escaped calamity, even if he was never given an important position. Can this really be so? Consider how precisely Su Xun foresaw the course of his sons’ lives, and how apt and profound his comparison to the three peaks was. A thousand years later, one can still glimpse the affection and insight shared by the father and sons of the Su family. Their wisdom was extraordinary. How could it be compared with that of those who only casually get to know their sons?

Ouyang Xiu lost his parents in childhood, and Lady Zheng of the Han family personally taught him to read…

His family was poor and could not afford paper or brushes, so he taught his son to write on the ground with a reed. He told him, “When your father was an official, he often stayed up at night by lamplight handling official papers. As he wrote, he would stop and sigh. I asked him why, and he said, ‘This is a case in which the accused is to be sentenced to death. I tried to find a way to spare his life, but could not.’ I asked, ‘Could you not try to save him?’ He replied, ‘If I do everything I can to save him and still fail, then neither the dead man nor I will have anything to regret. Besides, sometimes, after doing everything one can, it is still possible to save someone. It is precisely because lives can sometimes be saved that we know how wrong it is to let someone die without trying to save them.’ He always did his utmost to find a way for the accused to live. Even if some were still sentenced to death, that was better than people simply seeking to condemn them.”

Ouyang Xiu, the Northern Song writer and statesman, kept these words in mind throughout his life. Whenever he tried cases carrying the death penalty, he often cleared the names of many accused people, except those who had truly committed murder. In his daily instruction of the younger members of his family, he always used these words to encourage them.

The compiler of the Hongdao lu comments: Ouyang Xiu’s father was not trying to gain anything for himself; he was simply following the dictates of his own heart. Nor was his mother acting with any particular aim; she only wanted her son to understand his father’s aspirations. Others might not have known of this intention; Ouyang Xiu alone understood it. Doing good where no one can see it is what is called “hidden virtue”—good deeds done quietly, without seeking recognition—and nothing is more profound. So there is no need to spell out what reward good deeds may bring. Simply keep this teaching in mind for a lifetime, and share it especially with those who truly understand.

Liu Anshi, a Northern Song official renowned for his fearless remonstrance, had a mother famed for her wisdom. He was appointed remonstrance official, a position whose duties included advising the emperor and correcting his faults. Before formally accepting the appointment, he first went home and told his mother, “The court has not considered me unworthy despite my lack of talent, and has placed me among the remonstrance officials. In this post I must distinguish right from wrong, speak frankly, and take responsibility myself. If I offend powerful people, disaster may soon follow. The emperor is now governing the realm through filial piety. If I decline on the grounds that I must care for my elderly mother, I may be spared the position.”

His mother replied, “That is wrong. I have heard that a remonstrance official speaks to the Son of Heaven on behalf of all under Heaven. Your father wanted to hold such an office all his life, but never got the chance. You are fortunate to have this position, so you should give your life in gratitude for the state’s favor. Even if you are convicted and exiled, I will follow you, however far away you are sent.” Liu Anshi therefore accepted the appointment. As an official at court, he was stern in demeanor, pointed out the emperor’s faults to his face, and argued frankly and resolutely. People called him “the tiger in the palace hall.”

The compiler of the Hongdao lu comments: Reading about Liu Anshi, I cannot help reflecting that life and death have their own allotted course, and a noble person should not be swayed by fortune or misfortune. Cai Que, a powerful Northern Song minister, used cruel methods as well, and many people wanted Liu Anshi dead. Yet exile to Lingnan did not kill him. On several occasions, people were sent to harm him: some died before reaching their destination, while in another case, after they had traveled only a few stages, the court granted Liu Anshi a pardon. To later generations, this sounds almost comical, as though some unseen force had arranged everything.

If his mother had worried only about the dangers from the start, Liu Anshi’s path of integrity could never have come to light; the path of integrity would not…

If they were not publicly honored out of concern for the virtue of the mother and son, such hesitation and restraint would ultimately be less fitting than praising them openly and frankly, leaving nothing on one’s conscience.

Yin Tun’s mother was Lady Chen. Yin Tun once sat for the imperial examinations. In his policy essay, he advocated executing the ministers of the Yuanyou era and requested an appointment outside the capital, where he could serve the court. The emperor feared he would leave and repeatedly refused his request. Emperor Renzong once said to those around him, “All the scholars have been appointed; only Yu Boseng has yet to receive a prominent promotion.” After Emperor Yingzong ascended the throne, Bayan, who had become chancellor, advised the emperor to send an envoy to seek out Yu Boseng. After Yu Boseng returned home in sorrow, Zhao Shian, the Censor-in-Chief, took the opportunity to petition on his behalf, saying, “Boseng has lived in the capital for a long time. His family is very poor, and he suffers from an eye disease. I hope Your Majesty will allow him to serve elsewhere so that he can seek treatment.” The emperor angrily replied, “Is it too much for you to tolerate even one Yu Boseng?” The emperor was then preparing to appoint civil officials to important posts. Yu Boseng was exceptionally talented and widely learned, and could serve capably in any position, so the emperor was especially reluctant to let him leave. Matters had come to this pass.

The Hongdao lu comments: I have seen that women who read and understand principles do indeed exist. But even diligent scholars today find it difficult to understand the Zuo Commentary and the writings of Ouyang Xiu, Su Xun, and others; how much more difficult must this be for women? Historical accounts relate that when Wen Zhong served in Heng, his wife, Lady Ji, accompanied him. Since the couple had no children, they went to Mount Heng to pray. Later, when a child was born, Wen Zhong thought the child was extraordinary. Alas, a child’s endowment has its roots in the Qi of its parents. Lady Ji was discerning and came from a family long devoted to Confucian learning; Yang—described here in the original as “Yang’s wise virtue,” though the reference is unclear—also possessed moral integrity and did not bring dishonor upon the principles of a scholar. When virtuous and wise spouses are matched, virtuous offspring follow. The signs of what a child will achieve need not await a sage’s divination to be seen in advance. Why wait for a dream omen or a divination to come true?

In the Imperial Collection of Writings, the emperor’s patent of appointment to Mu Ying, Marquis of Xiping, says:

“Outstanding merit deserves an appropriate rank and title; this is the institution established by emperors. Longing for one’s family and cherishing old ties, meanwhile, are common human feelings. In the midst of the turmoil of war, I was already twenty-five years old and had no children. You, Mu Ying, suffered hardship because of the fighting and, at the age of eight, met with disaster, with your life and death uncertain. I pitied you for being so young and alone, and raised you as though you were my own child. At night we slept together, and more than once you snored in my arms. Later I had children of my own, and you grew to adulthood. In keeping with human feeling and the natural order, I did not conceal your name from you: I let you keep your own surname and maintain the ancestral rites.

“Even now I remember you as a child. I have treated you no less well than my own sons, and therefore confer on you the title of Marquis of Xiping. Remember the good fortune of our first meeting, and do not forget the great kindness with which I rescued you from hardship. Understand what it means to repay kindness: help others wholeheartedly and practice good deeds over many years, and you will receive blessings in abundance. May good fortune be with you.”

I think the Marquis of Xiping (Mu Ying of the Ming dynasty) was much like Liu Fei and others of the Han dynasty. Liu Fei died young, while the Mu family has survived to this day. Why? Without examining the history of the state of Qi, we cannot understand the flaws in Han institutions; and without looking at the circumstances of the imperial clan, how could we recognize what Ming Taizu did well?

At first, Ming Taizu promoted and raised Mu Ying as if he were his own heir. Later, guided by impartial principles, he never forgot their former bond. He even allowed the Mu family to restore their original surname and make offerings to their own ancestors. This was far better than claiming titles such as king or lord beyond one’s station, and it clearly embodied the principle that those who render outstanding service should receive an appropriate official rank. This was truly the great wisdom of an emperor and the impartiality embodied in the Way of Heaven. Such a policy could be passed down for generations without harmful consequences. How could it fail to endure as long as Heaven and bring peace to the state? In that case, even the most resourceful ministers and eloquent advisers would have nothing more to add. The emperor’s edict, therefore, must be recorded.

Chen Yi’s Records of Cultivating Virtue states: “The learned scholar Xie” (the Ming dynasty writer Xie Jin) was ordered to inscribe the painting The Tiger Looking Back at Its Cubs. His poem reads: “The tiger is lord of the beasts; who would dare provoke its fury? Only between father and son does one take a few steps, then turn to look back.”

Emperor Wen (the Yongle Emperor) had never liked this poem, but Emperor Renzong was deeply moved by it and often reflected on its meaning. When Renzong was left in charge of Nanjing, he was greatly troubled. He therefore ordered his trusted aide Xia Yuanji to set out that very day to meet him.

I think this poem looks further ahead than Zhang Liang’s strategy. The bond between father and son is a natural affection, unlike the calculations of ministers in rival states. Rival states stand apart, and their ministers can often accomplish much by weighing gains and losses. But father and son are bound by an inward kinship: their feelings run deep and cannot easily be restrained. Emperor Gaozu of Han was caught up in the ministers’ calculations and could not escape their limits. Emperor Ming (the original text says “Emperor Ming”) was able to follow the benevolence inherent in human nature, and so he could perceive a subtle warning. People a thousand years later can see this too.

Yu Ji (courtesy name Boshen) once asked to serve as an official in a commandery, so that he could repay the court. The emperor, however, feared his departure and refused. Renzong once told those around him, “The Confucian scholars have all been appointed to office, yet Yu Boshen alone has not received a notable promotion.” After Yingzong took the throne, he appointed Baiju as chancellor. Baiju then advised the emperor to send an envoy to summon Yu Ji. When Yu Ji fell ill from worry, Censor-in-Chief Zhao Shi’an took the opportunity to petition on his behalf, saying, “Boshen has lived in the capital for a long time. His family is very poor, and he also suffers from an eye disease. I hope you will let him serve for a time as a local official so he can receive treatment.” The emperor grew angry and said, “Can none of you tolerate one Yu Boshen?” At the time, the emperor was planning to make extensive use of literati…

He was broadly talented and far-sighted, and whatever he undertook, he handled well. That is why his coming and going were regarded as especially important. That is how matters stood.

The Record says: “In my view, there are indeed women who study and come to understand the great principles. But even people studying today often find the Zuo Tradition and the writings of Ouyang Xiu and Su Shi difficult to understand—how much more so women?”

The histories say that Wen Zhong was cautious and steady. He and his wife, the Ji family, had no children, so they went to Mount Heng in the south to pray. Later they had a son, Jisheng, whom Wen Zhong considered exceptional. Alas, whether children are born depends fundamentally on a person’s original Qi. The Ji family understood people and principles, and came from a Confucian background; the Yang family was virtuous and intelligent, meeting the standards expected of a scholar. When a worthy husband and wife are well matched, it is clear that virtuous descendants will carry on the family line. No divination by a wise person is needed to foresee this. Why wait for a dream omen or an oracle to decide whether the prayer has been answered?

In the Collected Writings of the Imperial Compositions, the emperor’s edict to Mu Ying, Marquis of Xiping, reads:

“Those who have rendered outstanding service should be granted the rank and title they deserve; this is the institution established by emperors. To remember one’s family and cherish old bonds, however, is a natural human feeling. When the realm was in turmoil, I was already twenty-five and had no children. You, Mu Ying, had been struck by misfortune in wartime. At the age of eight, you encountered disaster, and it was uncertain whether you would survive. Taking pity on your loneliness and young age, I raised you as though you were my own child. We slept together at night, and several times you snored in my arms. Later I had a son, and you grew to adulthood. Weighing the matter according to human feeling and natural principle, I did not conceal your origins from you. I restored your Mu surname and let you offer sacrifices to your ancestors. Even now, I remember what you were like as a child, and feel that we are as father and son. So I have enfeoffed you as Marquis of Xiping. You must remember the good fortune of our first meeting and never forget the great kindness by which I rescued you from hardship. Understand how to repay that kindness, and devote yourself to helping the people; only then will your blessings endure. May good fortune be with you.”

The Record says: “In my view, Mu Ying, Marquis of Xiping, resembles Liu Fei of the Han dynasty and others. Liu Fei died quite young, while Mu Ying is still remembered to this day. Why? Unless we compare this with the old affairs of Qi, we cannot see the flaws in the Han dynasty’s institutions. And how could we recognize what Ming Taizu did well without examining the stories of the imperial clan?”

At first, Ming Taizu took Mu Ying in and raised him as though he were his own heir. Later, he acted with complete impartiality: he never concealed Mu Ying’s origins, but restored his family name and allowed him to honor his own ancestors. This was far better than usurping the proper order by taking royal titles such as king or lord. It also clearly embodied the principle that great service should be rewarded with appropriate rank and title. This truly reflects an emperor’s wisdom and the fairness of natural principle. It can be passed down for generations without giving rise to abuses. How could such a person fail to endure like Heaven and share the flourishing fortune of the state?

Even when there are counselors and skilled debaters, there is no need to trouble oneself by offering advice; but imperial edicts and proclamations issued by the Son of Heaven must still be recorded.

The Record of Chen Yi’s Cultivation of De recounts that Xie Jin, a Ming dynasty official and writer, was ordered to compose The Tiger Looking Back at the Young Leopards. His poem reads: “The tiger is the sovereign of all beasts; who would dare offend its majesty? Only the bond of affection between father and son makes it take a step, then turn back to look again.”

The Yongle Emperor of the Ming, referred to in the original as “Emperor Wen,” had never liked this poem. But after reading it, the Hongxi Emperor was deeply moved and gave much thought to the circumstances of the time. He was then keeping watch in Nanjing and was troubled, so he ordered his trusted aide Xia Yuanji to go at once and meet him.

The Record of the Explication of the Dao says: “In my view, the insight in this poem far surpasses Zhang Liang’s stratagems. The natural affection between father and son is unlike the schemes devised by counselors of enemy states. Enemy states divide themselves into opposing sides, weigh advantages and harms, and strive to win merit. The bond between father and son, by contrast, springs from the heart; its feeling runs deep and cannot be restrained. The Han founder, Gaozu, was hemmed in by his counselors’ calculations and could never escape their limits. The Ming emperor—here referring to the Hongxi Emperor—recognized the subtle remonstrance because of the innate benevolence in his nature. Later readers, too, may take a lesson from this.”

Someone proposed that generals should recruit their own troops and be left to handle all other affairs as they saw fit. Those who distinguished themselves should not be transferred immediately, but should instead be promoted and given special rewards. In this way, talented people would vie to exert themselves, and in an emergency the court could count on their wholehearted service.

When the court was discussing a military campaign, Ru Tan repeatedly urged it not to act rashly. Later, after the Three Capitals had been recovered and the Jin forces had just suffered a defeat, he frowned and pointed out that the frontier had no dependable support. He asked the court to set aside established practice and select outstanding men. Citing the precedents of Wu Yong, Zhou Yu, and Lu Su, as well as the Jin dynasty’s appointment of Zu Ti and Tao Kan as generals, he proposed assigning each man to a region, placing dozens of cities under his command, and granting him enough authority to make decisions independently: one commander for Ba and Shu, one for Jing and Xiang, and one for each of the two Huai regions. Then the generals themselves could decide whether to advance or withdraw, and respond flexibly to military developments.

The court did not accept the proposal. Twenty years later, the Jin forces did indeed occupy Henan, and the frontier commanderies had been greatly weakened. When war broke out, no one was willing to take responsibility. Soon afterward, the army at Luoyang was also defeated, and only then did the court officials acknowledge that Ru Tan had foreseen what was coming.

The Record of the Explication of the Dao adds: “In my view, these two men lived through the perils of the Guangzong and Ningzong reigns, when Han Tuozhou and Shi Miyuan held power and factional strife brought disaster. They shut themselves away to write books and never turned from their reading, from youth to old age. They once remarked that Han Fei and Li Si both possessed Xunzi’s talents…”

Because his desire for wealth, profit, and advantage was so strong, the people of the world looked down on him. You alone kept to your integrity and refused to accommodate others casually. How could a man of letters fail to value his own character?

It is also said: Outside things can block my hearing, unsettle my sight, and stir my mind because I have not yet grasped the way of holding fast to purity and singleness of purpose, and keeping the heart-mind still. Once this is truly understood, even enticements of sound and sight cannot intrude; treasures and possessions cannot sway me; and fame and office cannot set me wavering. When the spirit is settled and clear, who could disturb me? In light of this, it is a pity that such a worthy man of his age never had the chance to put his abilities to use. Let this be recorded.

The History of the Liao records that Yelü Bei, posthumously known as Liao Yizong and the eldest son of Liao Taizu Abaoji, was intelligent and fond of learning from a young age. He appeared generous and was resolute within. In the first year of the Shence era (916), he was made crown prince. After Taizu’s death, Yelü Bei knew that the empress dowager wished to install Deguang. He therefore joined the ministers in asking her to pass over him. He said, “The Grand Marshal has rendered outstanding service and earned great merit; those within and beyond the court are devoted to him. He should be entrusted with governing the state.” The Grand Marshal then took the throne. He was Liao Taizong.

After Taizong’s accession, he designated Dongping as the Southern Capital and ordered Yelü Bei to move there. Wang Jiyuan was instructed to choose a site and build the capital. Yelü Bei also built a library in the Western Palace and composed “Poem on the Joys of the Fields and Garden.” When Mingzong of Later Tang heard of this, he sent a messenger across the sea with a letter, secretly inviting Yelü Bei to come. Yelü Bei thought, “I yielded the realm to my sovereign, yet now I am suspected. I would do better to go to another state and earn a name like Wu Taibo’s.” He wrote a farewell message, boarded a ship, and crossed the sea.

Later Tang welcomed Yelü Bei with the imperial procession, seated him in the hall, and had the assembled officials congratulate him. When he reached Bianzhou, Mingzong bestowed on him the royal surname Dongdan and the personal name Muhua. He also renamed Ruizhou the Huaihua Army and appointed him military governor and regional inspector of Duanshen and other prefectures. Later, he was transferred to garrison Huazhou. Though living in a foreign land, Yelü Bei often longed for his family, and Tao Anzhi’s missions to and from Liao continued without interruption.

The Hongdao lu comments: Crown Prince Yelü Bei of Liao may be said to have understood how to cherish himself. It is a pity that, though he admired Wu Taibo’s reputation, he did not truly pursue Wu Taibo’s resolve to yield the state; he followed in Jizha’s footsteps without grasping their meaning. His poem “Small Hill” almost betrays a sense of grievance, while his willingness to accept a military governorship placed too much weight on winning a reputation in his own time. In adopting the surname Dongdan, he seemed to forget his roots; and Mingzong of Later Tang, by accepting him, seemed like a father who betrayed his son and a son who defied his father. Where, then, were the ideals expressed by “Muhua” and “Huaihua”? He was merely lodging in the land of the barbarians.

Hongdao lu, juan 42.