《弘道錄》Vol. 4

The “Canon of Yao” says: Shun’s father was foolish and stubborn, his mother unreasonable, and his younger brother Xiang arrogant and disrespectful. Yet Shun was able to bring harmony to his family through filial devotion.

The “Record of Expounding the Way” says: This is the first great principle recorded by the historian who examined events of antiquity. Filial devotion is the root of all good conduct and the foundation of benevolence. The great sages Yao and Shun, in carrying out the momentous act of abdication and passing on rule over all under Heaven, did no more than “bring harmony to their families through filial devotion.” In light of this, what virtue of the sages could surpass filial devotion?

Mencius said: Emperor Yao prepared his nine sons, two daughters, officials, oxen, sheep, and grain stores to serve Shun, who at the time was working in the fields. Many scholars from across the realm went over to Shun. Emperor Yao intended to hand the realm over to him. But if Shun could not obey his parents, he would feel like a destitute person with nowhere to return.

The people’s regard across the realm was something everyone wished to have. Having Emperor Yao’s two daughters as wives was also a human desire. And to possess the realm and become Son of Heaven was the wealth and honor everyone coveted. Yet none of these could dispel the sorrow in Shun’s heart. Only obedience to his parents could bring him peace of mind.

When people are young, they look up to their parents. Once they learn to admire beauty, they look up to young and attractive people. When they have a wife and children, their thoughts turn to them; when they hold office, they look up to their ruler. If the ruler does not value them, they become troubled. Only those of great filial devotion look up to their parents all their lives. Shun still longed for his parents at the age of fifty; this can be seen in his example.

The “Record of Expounding the Way” says: Was Shun the only one like this? The present emperor, too, is indeed as filial as the great Shun. Consider how, time and again, he has told his senior ministers that even as Son of Heaven, possessing all within the Four Seas, he should not take that as a source of happiness. As he speaks, he sighs and weeps, as though he could not feel at ease for even a day in his position as Son of Heaven. These words are all recorded in the “Great Canon of Human Relations.” He, too, may be called one who longs for his parents throughout his life.

Wan Zhang asked: Some say that by the time of Yu, virtue had declined, and so the realm was no longer passed on to a worthy person but instead to the ruler’s son. Is that true?

Mencius replied: No, that is not so. When Heaven intends to give the realm to a worthy person, it gives it to a worthy person; when it intends to give it to a ruler’s son, it gives it to his son. In the past, Yu recommended Yi to Heaven. After Yu died, Yi completed the three years of mourning and then withdrew to the north side of Mount Ji, where Yu’s son Qi lived. Those who came to pay court or bring lawsuits did not go to Yi but went to Qi, saying, “He is the son of our ruler.”

The singers no longer praised Yi, but instead praised Qi, saying, “He is the son of our ruler.”

Dan Zhu was not worthy, and Shun’s son was not worthy either. Shun assisted Yao, and Yu assisted Shun; both served for many years and brought blessings to the people for a long time. Qi was worthy and respectfully inherited Yu’s way of governing. Yi assisted Yu for a shorter time and brought blessings to the people for less time. The different lengths of time Shun, Yu, and Yi served their rulers, and whether their sons were worthy or not, were matters of Heaven’s will, not things people could arrange. What happens naturally without anyone bringing it about is called Heaven; what comes naturally without anyone summoning it is called destiny.

The Hongdao lu comments: This was the beginning of hereditary rule, with the throne passed down through one family from generation to generation. Later ages followed this practice without change. Only after devoting oneself wholeheartedly and understanding human nature can one speak of Heaven; only after probing the principles of things and thoroughly understanding human nature can one speak of destiny. If even the slightest part of either remains unclear, one is bound to go wrong, as Zizhi and Zhao Pu did. Did Zizhi and Zhao Pu never speak of Heaven’s will and destiny? If the person appointed is not the most impartial choice for all under Heaven, that choice cannot prevail over the natural bonds of intimate affection. If the throne is bestowed contrary to the ancestors’ intentions, it cannot express the profound obligation of continuing their line.

So, did Yao and Shun not love Dan Zhu and their own sons? It was simply so difficult to find the right person for all under Heaven that they could not force themselves to yield the throne. And as for Yi, did they not recommend him to Heaven and publicly put him forward before the people? That the throne ultimately passed to Qi rather than Yi was not the result of anyone forcibly seizing it. Could any of this have been arranged by human effort? Mencius explained why the periods of assistance differed in length, and fully clarified that worthiness and unworthiness stem from Heaven’s decree. Readers should pay close attention to this.

Tai Jia said, “The ruler went into mourning at Tong Palace and was ultimately able to complete his Virtue. This is indeed worthy of trust.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Compassion is the beginning of benevolence. Why is this said? Perhaps it is because ordinary people, if they see nothing that warrants concern, will feel no anxiety; if they see nothing that calls for caution, they will feel no alarm. They then gradually fall into error without knowing it and stray from instruction without realizing it. Should we not find a way to awaken them and move their hearts?

Tong Palace was where the former kings were buried and where their clothing and headgear were kept. Even an ordinary person, seeing the pines and cypresses in a cemetery, would be moved. When Tai Jia arrived there, his heart gradually filled with sorrow, and with it he began to stir himself to action. He drew close to the former kings’…

The instruction of wise rulers goes far beyond the guidance of tutors and child-rearing officials. They do not indulge in sights and sounds, but keep what is proper constantly before their eyes. Nor are they reluctant to correct their faults; they remain alert at all times. Thus, conduct that once led to ruin is transformed into Virtue that brings matters to a good beginning and a good end. Does this not arise from a compassionate heart?

The Wuyi says: “When Gaozong was in office, he spent a long time working away from home and living among ordinary people. After he came to the throne, he sometimes observed mourning for three years without speaking. He was usually silent; when he did speak, his words were fitting and harmonious.”

The Hongdao lu says: The Shang dynasty valued simplicity and still retained the ways of high antiquity. The crown prince was the foundation of the realm; a person of low status should not be placed above this honored heir. Yet Xiao Yi sent his son to live among the people for a long time, working alongside them. This shows that Xiao Yi’s love for his son was not the indulgence and permissiveness of later generations, but a sincere and unfeigned feeling. In governing the court, affection must not obscure what is right; yet Gaozong sometimes observed mourning for three years without speaking. This shows that Gaozong’s love and respect for his father was not the empty ritual of later generations, but a natural affection flowing from the heart. The noble bearing and magnificent Virtue of the sage kings of the Three Dynasties were not simply the result of their high rank and wealth.

The Daya says: “The winding, unbroken vines and tendrils were the first roots of the people. They arose in the regions of the Tu and Ju rivers and the Qi River. Gugong Danfu, the grandfather of King Wen of Zhou, lived in a dugout dwelling, making his home in a cave; at that time, houses had not yet been built.”

The Hongdao lu says: Why does the poem compare them to vines and tendrils that continue without end? Because the Great King, Gugong Danfu, began the work that would lead to kingship. “Trace” means the tracks left by wheels. The people of Bin said, “This is a benevolent man; we cannot lose him.” Those who followed him were as numerous as people gathered at a market. Was this not the trace of a kingly enterprise? Later, King Wu carried on the work begun by the Great King, continuing that unbroken line of origins. Otherwise, how could the ambition to claim the realm and overthrow the Shang have arisen among people who still lived in dugouts and caves? Those who observe carefully can discern the reason.

The Book of Songs also says: “Then came King Ji, who governed the state through Virtue. Tai Si conceived and gave birth to King Wen.”

The Hongdao lu says: I see that at the height of Zhou’s prosperity, fathers, ancestors, and descendants were wise from generation to generation. Why, then, did the age of Yao fall short? Perhaps when Heaven and Earth first opened, their Qi had not yet become fully pure and substantial; by the time of Zhou, pure primordial Qi had gathered. This was not merely the result of a family accumulating blessings and Virtue over generations. It also arose from the realm’s long accumulation of sincerity, and was not formed in a single day. Otherwise, why did the circumstances brought about by King Wen’s marriage to Tai Si near the He and Wei rivers differ so greatly from those brought about when Yao’s daughter was married to Shun near the Gui River?

The Biographies of Exemplary Women says: Tai Ren, the mother of King Wen of Zhou, was by nature upright, steadfast, sincere, and dignified. When she was pregnant, her eyes did not look upon anything improper, her ears did not listen to anything improper, and her mouth did not utter arrogant words. She gave birth to King Wen, who was intelligent and wise. Tai Ren taught him through her steadfast conduct, enabling him to understand a hundred things from hearing one. In the end, he became the founder of the Zhou dynasty. The exemplary gentleman judged that Tai Ren truly understood prenatal education.

The Hongdao lu says: Whenever I read discussions of prenatal education, I am often struck by the profound principles they contain. Heaven endows human beings with a nature that is originally formless. When man and woman respond to one another, Qi (vital energy) arises. This formless nature cannot be divided into good and evil, for nature itself is good. But once people respond to external things, right and wrong, good and evil begin to diverge. More than this, a person’s rank and lifespan are also determined in this way. This is what is meant by one’s endowment of temperament: it is present from birth, already fixed, and difficult to change. Was it not only natural, then, that King Wen should become the founder of the Zhou dynasty?

The Doctrine of the Mean says: “Free from anxiety and care—was there ever anyone like King Wen? His father was King Ji, and his son was King Wu. His father began the enterprise, and his son carried it on.”

The Hongdao lu says: Confucius said, “The humane person has no anxiety.” Commentators explain that the principles upheld by a humane person are enough to overcome selfish desires, and so that person does not worry. King Wen’s father was King Ji. If selfish desire had prevailed, King Wen might have been eager to fulfill his own ambitions, thereby leading his father into unrighteousness. King Wen’s son was King Wu. If selfish desire had prevailed, he might have planned in advance to secure an unshakable enterprise for himself, thereby leading his son into the crime of disloyalty. This is a lesson for people in later generations. Even today, there are people who aspire to be King Wen of Zhou. Alas, how many there are who are truly like King Wen!

When a ruler’s principal consort does not feel jealousy, his descendants become numerous. Thus, people compare harmony among the many consorts and the flourishing of their descendants to swarms of grasshoppers. The poem sings: “Grasshoppers spread their wings and fly in swarms; may your descendants be numerous and prosper. Grasshoppers call as they fly, gathering without dispersing; may your descendants continue without end. Grasshoppers cluster together, packed close; may your descendants live in peace and joy.”

The Hongdao lu says: Why should this kind of virtue merit this kind of blessing? Before her time, the ruler’s descendants had repeatedly suffered calamity, and the royal line had even come close to ending; establishing ancestral temples was still further out of reach. After her time, many hidden calamities spread like a raging fire, impossible to stop, let alone to bring to an end for generations. From whether a person is swayed by the words of parents and brothers, one can see that person’s filial piety. And if a person’s speech never strays from the many consorts and women of the inner quarters, one can also see that person’s virtue. Harmony is not...

A husband and wife lived harmoniously with their children, like fish moving in a line. The women of the palace all received affection, and nothing was amiss. This was perhaps a blessing passed down through generations of the Zhou. The Zhou house’s flourishing was no mere temporary revival, like a withered poplar putting out new shoots. King Wen treated his family as a ruler governs a household, making its members love one another. Perhaps this was how King Wen governed his family. In terms of virtue, its beneficence was broad; in terms of good fortune, its blessings ran deep.

King Wen’s consorts cultivated virtue, and their descendants were influenced by them and turned toward goodness. Thus the poets of the Book of Songs praised them: “The qilin’s toes! The princes are kind and sincere. Ah, truly like the qilin!”

The Hongdao lu says: “When I consider the signs that a king is about to rise, none are more genuine and unfeigned than these; and no verses of praise are more intimate or meaningful. The qilin may already have appeared in the woods and marshes of the countryside, yet no one has seen it. How much more so with auspicious creatures such as the Four Sacred Beasts—the dragon, phoenix, tortoise, and qilin—whose forms are hard to find, while the sons of dukes and marquises are there for all to see. Rather than pinning one’s hopes on auspicious beasts, it is better to look to these kind and sincere young men, who are truly like qilin. The sages understood this deeply. Moved and inspired by it, they rose to action; they did not merely recite the words and admire them in their hearts.”

Moreover, the Shang had Wai Bing and Zhong Ren, who died young; the Han had the Hidden King and the Young Emperor, who suffered wrongful deaths; the Jin faced the calamities of Jiancheng and Guangji; and the Song, too, debated whether Guangmei or Dezhao should inherit the throne. Who else, then, could succeed one another on the throne as the Zhou rulers did—King Wen, King Wu, King Cheng, and King Kang? Thus the saying that a king’s rise is accompanied by auspicious signs is no empty claim.

Another account says that when King Wen was gravely ill, King Wu never took off his cap and belt, but attended him personally. When King Wen ate one meal, King Wu ate only one; when King Wen ate two, King Wu ate two as well. Only after twelve days did King Wen’s condition begin to improve. King Wen asked King Wu, “What did you dream?” King Wu replied, “I dreamed that the Emperor of Heaven granted me nine years of life.” King Wen asked, “What do you think it means?” King Wu said, “There are nine states in the west, and in the end their rulers will be brought to peace.” King Wen said, “That is not it. The ancients used the word ‘ling’ for a person’s years. I have lived to ninety; I will give you three of my years.” King Wen died at ninety-seven, and King Wu at ninety-three.

The Hongdao lu says: “Why did King Wu have such a dream? Because his love for his father was so profound. This is what is meant by ‘He precedes Heaven, yet Heaven does not oppose him’: a person’s virtue accords with Heaven’s intent, and Heaven does not resist. Why did King Wen respond as he did? Because his love for his son was also so profound. This is what is meant by ‘He follows Heaven and complies with its seasons’: he acts in accord with the Dao of Heaven. If even Heaven’s intent does not oppose them, what could people doubt or dispute? King Wen and King Wu were two people, yet their sincerity connected them, leaving nothing between them. Meal by meal, they cared for one another; even after twelve days, their minds remained single, focused only on serving their kin. Even if one were to take all the things in the world…”

How could external things possibly obstruct spiritual beings from responding? Even wood and stone, pigs and fish can respond, so how much more can the ultimate principles revealed by spiritual beings? The figures of ninety-seven and ninety-three years merely mark the ages at which the underlying principle happened to come to pass. Even if King Wen of Zhou had lived three years longer, that would not prove that King Wu’s lifespan must have been shorter. In general, a person’s lifespan is measured by a hundred years; there is no need to fixate on a particular number. Readers need only grasp the meaning of the passage and not let its literal wording get in the way.

The “Min Yu Xiaozi” in the “Zhou Hymns” says: “I have suffered the misfortune of my family and state, left alone and without support, sunk in grief and sorrow. Ah, my late father! May you forever uphold filial Virtue. I think of my ancestors ascending and descending in the halls and courts of the ancestral temple. I, your young descendant, remain reverent day and night, daring not to slacken. Ah, former kings! I will carry on their work, keep it in my heart, and never forget it.”

The Hongdao Lu says: The reason one speaks of carrying on the work of Kings Wen and Wu and spreading the foundations of instruction is that benevolence is the basis by which Heaven and Earth nurture the myriad things, while filial piety is the highest Virtue of the sages. For a ruler to please the Son of Heaven and accord with Virtue rests entirely on this foundation. Thus Taijia was sent to Tong to mourn and reflect; Gaozong observed the mourning rites; and King Cheng, too, experienced loneliness and sorrow. In the end, all three kings became worthy successors, following the same path.

The former kings’ filial devotion was not sought from outside: it arose from Heaven, a sincere and natural expression of the good heart. Their remembrance of their ancestors was deeply rooted within, reaching the subtle depths of emotion through grief and care. They took the spirits as their standard because, when all things are done in accord with principle, they unfold naturally. This is why they remembered and carried on the work of the former kings, never forgetting it. When the Han dynasty later arose, its regard for this principle remained much the same. After the reigns of Emperor Yuan and Emperor Cheng, this ethos gradually declined, so it is no wonder that scholars of the Classics repeatedly and earnestly expounded on it.

The “Counsels at the End” records: At the beginning of the fourth month, the king fell ill. On the day jiazi, he bathed in perfumed water, put on his ceremonial robes and cap, leaned against the jade table, and summoned Grand Protector Shuang, the Earl of Rui, the Earl of Tong, Duke Bi, the Marquis of Wei, Duke Mao, along with the officers of the Master’s Office, the Tiger Guards, the officials, and the officers in charge of affairs. The king said: “Alas, my illness has reached a critical point. It grows more severe with each passing day, and after such a long illness with no recovery, I fear I will not live to personally arrange the succession. Now I solemnly entrust my instructions and commands to you. In the past, Kings Wen and Wu brought the Virtue of the former kings to full prominence, established laws, clarified instruction, and diligently cultivated them without ever straying. Thus they gained access to Shang and received the Mandate of Heaven. The young rulers who succeeded them reverently received Heaven’s awe, inherited and safeguarded the weighty instructions of Kings Wen and Wu, and did not dare to become heedless or transgress. Now Heaven has brought this grave illness upon me. I will probably never rise again or regain consciousness. You must carefully understand my words and reverently preserve...”

“Prince Zhao of Yuan” (referring to Ji Zhao, son of King Cheng of Zhou and later King Kang of Zhou) received support in a time of hardship and was able to weather the crisis.

The Hongdao lu says: This is why King Cheng of Zhou brought his government to a sound conclusion and King Kang of Zhou was able to establish his rule successfully. It also offers a standard for later generations. Entrusting an orphan with the state and handing over its government require finding people as well suited to the task as those of the Zhou. The Duke of Zhou was a close relative of the royal house and held the weighty office of Grand Guardian. Though the two stood in different relations as ruler and subject, their fortunes and hardships were closely bound together. They were like people sharing a boat in rushing waters, or riders galloping side by side along a broad road. How could they fail to act with caution and vigilance?

At first, King Cheng cautioned himself to learn from past lessons and guard against future troubles. Without the Duke of Zhou, how could he have protected himself and preserved his bright De? In his later years, he proclaimed the glory of the former kings and ensured that their great mission would continue. Without the Duke of Shao, how could he have carefully assisted the crown prince and safeguarded the state? Because King Cheng had himself endured hardship, his words carried particular sincerity and force; they were unlike the words of those who act through mere good fortune.

The Hongdao lu also cites a Jing: One should pacify distant regions and draw near those close at hand, bringing stability and encouragement to states large and small. One must bear in mind that people’s conduct may slip out of restraint, and must not let Ji Zhao, because of his youth, drift carelessly onto an improper path.

The Hongdao lu says: At this point, King Cheng of Zhou was already the equal of the sages of antiquity. “Subtle beginnings” refers to the signs of events while they are still slight and just emerging, a crucial matter valued in the court of Yu Shun. Without exceptional discernment, who could detect such signs? Without firm resolve, who could respond in time? King Cheng’s ability to do so came from a long practice of discernment and cultivating De, and from bearing great responsibilities; it was no casual guess.

Once people begin to act, they must deal with all kinds of affairs. So, whether inside or outside the court, and throughout the household, they must never let their vigilance lapse, even for a moment. They must also examine themselves when alone and at rest, since each day brings many small matters that require attention, and a moment’s carelessness can lead to error. This is especially urgent for a young heir: his intentions are not yet mature, and his conduct not yet firmly established. Suddenly placed above everyone else, he may become arrogant and self-indulgent. If he also keeps close company with attendants and lets harmful thoughts take root, then the means of pacifying distant regions, drawing near those close at hand, and stabilizing and encouraging the feudal lords will have lost their foundation.

This profound concern bears on the heir’s safety throughout his life. It is also the most far-sighted plan for the state at a time of prosperity, and expresses the full duty of those who assist and instruct a ruler. Those who speak only of loving one’s children see only family affection; they have not carefully considered the principles of governing a state, and their views cannot be compared with this.

The Duke of Zhou said to the Duke of Lu: “A gentleman does not distance himself from his own kin, nor does he let ministers grow resentful because they have not been given office. As for old friends, do not cast them aside unless they have committed a serious offense. Nor should you expect any one person to be perfect in every respect.”

The Record of Broadening the Way says: This was the family tradition of governance handed down by the Duke of Zhou. It is what Confucius meant when he said, “With some reform, Lu could reach the Way.” Later, when the ruler of Lu governed the state, he first brought order within its borders and then extended his influence abroad; he spoke first of benevolence and then of righteousness. The lessons he drew from the Duke of Zhou’s instructions ran deep. Thus it is said that Lu’s blessings endured for ten generations. Lu had the bearing of a state destined to produce a king because of its benevolence and generosity. This was also why Qi was inferior to Lu.

Yet when I once visited Qufu, I saw that no one was enshrined alongside the Duke of Zhou in his temple. I thought: the Duke of Zhou was a great sage, whose virtue in life was sufficient to match Heaven. After his death, no one could be worthy of being enshrined beside him. And since the Duke of Lu was virtuous and did not fail the Duke of Zhou’s teachings, would it not be fitting to enshrine him alongside the Duke of Zhou? Perhaps someone will adopt this practice in the future and carry it out accordingly.

The T’an-kung says: When Duke Xian of Jin died, Duke Mu of Qin sent someone to offer condolences to Chong’er, the son of the duke. The envoy said to him, “I have heard that a state on the verge of ruin is often restored at just such a time, and that those who have lost their state often regain it at just such a time. Though you are in mourning and sunk in grief, mourning cannot be prolonged indefinitely, and an opportunity must not be missed. Please give this careful thought.”

Chong’er told his maternal uncle Hu Yan what had been said. Hu Yan replied, “You should decline. For one in mourning, there is no treasure more precious than loving one’s kin. What does your father’s death mean? Surely you understand. If you take advantage of this moment to seek gain, would the world accept such an explanation? You should decline.”

Prince Chong’er answered Duke Mu of Qin: “I am grateful that you sent someone to console me, your servant Chong’er, who is living in exile. My father has died, and I could not be there to mourn him in person; this has already caused you concern. What my father’s death means—how could I dare to have any other plans and fail to honor your kindness?” He performed the qisang rite, touching his forehead to the ground to show grief and respect, but did not bow. He rose weeping and did not speak privately with the envoy.

The envoy, Zixian, reported Chong’er’s words to Duke Mu. Duke Mu said, “Prince Chong’er is truly benevolent. He performed the qisang rite but did not bow because he was not the presiding mourner and therefore did not complete the formal bow. He rose weeping, which shows his love for his father. After rising, he did not speak privately with the envoy, which shows that he kept himself far from thoughts of personal gain.”

The Record of Broadening the Way also says: An heir should be chosen according to the order of rank, not merely according to personal preference. If succession is arranged solely by preference, trouble has already been set in motion. Chong’er was the eldest son, and no one could replace him. That Hui Gong showed no regard for his elder brother above him or his younger brother below him. He bribed those abroad and schemed at home, gaining the throne through opportunism and expediency. Chong’er, meanwhile, was alone in mourning, grieving as he performed the qisang rite and wept in sorrow. The contrast between their characters was stark. Thus the Spring and Autumn Annals does not record Hui Gong’s “entry” into the state—that is, his return to take the throne—nor does it record that Li Ke was guilty. The Great Learning also cites Hu Yan’s words. All this reflects an intention to help others become better. Who can say that Duke Mu of Qin’s…

If everything were like this, how could one keep borrowing under a pretext for so long without returning what was borrowed? Sadly, his intentions were not single-minded, and he was skilled in deception. These failings all arose from a lack of learning, but Zifan, who served his ruler without knowing how to guide him, cannot evade responsibility.

The Zuo Commentary records that Feng Shu asked Jia Ji, also known as Hu Shegu, “Which of Zifan’s sons do you think was more worthy, Zhao Cui or Zhao Dun?” Jia Ji replied, “Zhao Cui was like the winter sun; Zhao Dun was like the summer sun.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “The winter sun is welcome; the summer sun commands awe. Zhao Cui once went on campaign with a pot of broth. Though he was hungry, he did not drink any, so deeply did he care for the men. When Zhao Dun began to oversee the affairs of state, he established administrative systems, set the laws in order, tried criminal cases, pursued fugitives, and handled matters such as treaties. People both feared and loved him. This is why Jia Ji praised him so solemnly.”

The Kongzi Jiayu records that Confucius’s ancestors were descendants of the rulers of Song. Weizi Qi was the eldest son of Emperor Yi of Yin and once served at court as a minister of the royal house. “Wei” was the name of a state, and “zi” was a noble rank. When the Duke of Zhou assisted King Cheng, he appointed Weizi to continue the line of Yin and enfeoffed him in the state of Song. Weizi’s younger brother was called Weizhong. Weizhong’s son was Duke Ji of Song; Duke Ji’s son was Duke Ding, named Shen; Duke Ding’s son was Duke Min, named Xi; and Duke Min’s son was Fufu He. Fufu He should have succeeded to the throne, but yielded it to his younger brother, Duke Li. Fufu He’s son was Songfu Zhou, whose son was Shifu Sheng. Shifu Sheng’s family lived for generations in the countryside of Song. His son was Zheng Kaofu, whose son was Kongfu Jia. From then on, the family took “Kong” as its surname. Kongfu Jia’s son was Mujinfu, whose son was Gaoyifu. Gaoyifu’s son was Fangshu, who fled to Lu to escape the turmoil caused by the Hua clan. Thus Confucius was a man of Lu. Fangshu’s son was Boxia, whose son was Shuliang He. Shuliang He prayed on Mount Niqu, and later Confucius was born.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Sima Qian clearly knew Confucius’s genealogy, so why did he omit the succession of his ancestors? Weizi continued the line of the former kings; Confucius in fact carried on the lineage descended from the Shang dynasty. The Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties rose in succession and replaced one another in turn: this may be called the utmost in benevolence and virtue. Xie widely spread the Five Teachings and clarified human relationships, becoming the ancestral source of the benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and music of later generations. Tang of Shang succeeded the Xia and ruled all under Heaven. The root and source of this tradition began with Xie and continued through to Weizi. Weizi was born with sage-like virtue. The queen of Yin and Emperor Yi both wished to make him heir, so Weizi should originally have received the mandate and become Son of Heaven. Later, he fled to Zhou carrying the ritual vessels, but Heaven abandoned…”

King Zhou did not truly reject the Shang dynasty, and the Zhou dynasty did not dare treat him as a subject. Instead, it allowed him to retain the Shang rites and institutions and settled him in the royal house as an honored guest. This arrangement lasted for several generations. Later, the Zhou dynasty’s benevolent rule gradually declined.

Heaven then specially brought forth a great sage to become the founder of benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music for later ages. Though he did not inherit the Zhou throne and become king, in effect he replaced the Shang dynasty and established a new way of governance. Confucius once said, “I have studied the rites of Yin and Shang, and the state of Song still preserves them.” This shows that he silently took upon himself the responsibility of transmitting the Shang rites. Could this matter simply be left unmentioned? Zheng Qiao, in his Comprehensive Treatise, sought to remedy Sima Qian’s omission, yet he too passed over it without recording it. This was not appropriate. Therefore, this Record of Broadening the Dao is indispensable.

When Confucius was nineteen, he married a woman of the Kaiguan clan from the state of Song. The following year, she gave birth to their son Boyu. Duke Zhao of Lu sent a carp as a gift. Confucius valued the ruler’s gift, so he named his son “Li” (“Carp”), with the courtesy name Boyu. Boyu had a son, Ji, whose courtesy name was Zisi and who wrote the Doctrine of the Mean.

The Record of Broadening the Dao states that the Shang dynasty began with Xie and continued through Tang. After Tang, descendants of the Shang were enfeoffed in the state of Song. More than a thousand years passed before the Kong clan rose to prominence. From the time Zheng Kaofu served Dukes Dai, Wu, and Xuan of Song, several generations passed before Confucius was born. Confucius later married the woman of the Kaiguan clan from Song and had Boyu; Boyu in turn had Zisi. Only then did the Dao lineage—the transmission of the Way of the sages and worthies—find a suitable heir. Heaven planned for the ages to come by having Confucius inherit the Dao lineage of those before him and open its transmission to later generations. This mattered not only for bringing honor to the ancestors and blessing their descendants; its significance was immense. How could it be passed over without record? This passage is therefore included to fill omissions in works such as the Records of the Grand Historian, the Ancient History, and the Comprehensive Treatise.

The Classic of Filial Piety records that when Confucius was at leisure, Zengzi attended him. Confucius asked, “The sage kings of antiquity possessed the highest De and the most essential Way. Through them, they governed the world, bringing harmony among the people and leaving no resentment between those above and below. Do you know what these were?” Zengzi rose from his mat and replied, “I, Zeng Shen, am not clever. How could I know?” Confucius said, “Filial piety is the root of all De, and the foundation from which teaching arises. Sit down, and I will explain it to you. Our bodies, hair, and skin are received from our parents; not daring to injure them is the beginning of filial piety. Cultivating oneself, putting the Great Way into practice, and making one’s name endure for later generations so that one’s parents are honored—this is the completion of filial piety. Filial piety begins with serving one’s parents, is put into practice through loyal service to one’s ruler, and reaches its fulfillment in establishing oneself and following the Way. The Book of Songs, in the ‘Greater Elegies,’ says: ‘Do not forget your ancestors; cultivate your De with diligence.’”

The Record of Broadening the Dao explains: “What is meant by ‘the highest De and the most essential Way’? It is the mind. Why is the mind called supreme and essential? This is in relation to the world, the people, and the bonds between those above and below…”

What, precisely, is meant by “the root”? Why keep all the people of the realm, and the distinctions between those above and below, in one’s heart?

The realm is vast, yet the sage takes governing it as a concern because he must extend benefits widely. The people are numerous and affairs are complex, yet the sage takes this as a concern because he must aid the many. The relations between those above and below are unequal, yet the sage is concerned with this too: he must take himself as the standard, extend his own feelings to others, and ensure that people treat one another appropriately. Could one simply stop once these things have been accomplished?

Though the realm is vast, the principle of loving one’s family is shared by all. Though the people are numerous, the heart that cares for them is shared by all. Though there are distinctions between those above and below, the principle of enabling each to find what is fitting is shared by all. Love for one’s family, benevolence toward others, and acting in accord with what is right were beautiful virtues held in the hearts of the former kings, generous and at ease. The people could not see these virtues, yet they were bestowed upon them; no one across the Four Seas could hear their voices, yet they became standards for all to follow. Thus De is the root, from which instruction arises. This root and beginning, which runs through the entire classic, explains the origins of the “Five Expressions of Filial Piety.” Filial piety does not begin only with serving one’s parents, extend to loyalty to the ruler, and end with cultivating oneself.

Youzi said, “A person who is filial to their parents and respectful toward their elder brothers, yet likes to offend those above them, is rare. A person who dislikes offending those above them, yet likes to stir up rebellion, has never existed. The noble person devotes effort to the root. Once the root is established, the Dao will grow from it. Filial piety toward one’s parents and respect for one’s elder brothers are probably the root of benevolence.”

The Hongdao lu says, “Filial piety and fraternal respect are the root of benevolence. The ‘root’ is like the root of a tree: only when a tree has roots can it grow branches and leaves. The reason to take care in nurturing the root is that the power of growth lies there, and nowhere else. Suppose someone treats others kindly but is unkind within their own family: can they be called benevolent? Or suppose someone shows affection only toward their brothers, yet treats others with brutality: does that make sense? Thus it is said that people who are filial and respectful toward their elder brothers rarely like to offend those above them; and no one who dislikes offending those above them has ever liked to stir up rebellion.

“Filial piety and fraternal respect are principles practiced in daily life, not profound or difficult matters. Why, then, does the noble person devote their attention to them? Precisely because once the root is established, the Dao will grow from it and extend to all things between Heaven and Earth, allowing each thing to find its proper place. Is this not the root of benevolence? The disciples of Confucius considered Youzi’s bearing and words to resemble those of a sage, and so they recorded this passage at the opening of the whole book. In this light, is devoting oneself to the root not the foremost principle to study at all times?”

Mencius said, “Those without benevolence abandon even their own family.”

The Hongdao lu says: “Abandoning one’s parents” refers to conduct like the five kinds of unfilial behavior commonly spoken of among ordinary people. When people lack benevolence, they are driven by selfish desires and do such things. A benevolent person, by contrast, never forgets their parents, whether taking a step or speaking a word. They are always attentive to their parents’ unspoken wishes and perceptive of the feelings they do not show. How, then, could they be too lazy to move their limbs or neglect their care?

At home, they do their utmost to show their parents respect; in supporting them, they do their utmost to make them happy. How could they become engrossed in chess, gambling, or drinking? Children take pleasure in what their parents love. How could they covet wealth and care only for their own spouse and children? With their eyes fixed on beauty and music filling their ears, how could they care only for the pleasures of sight and sound? When in a high position, they are not arrogant; when in a low position, they do not cause disorder; among their peers, they do not contend. How could they show off their courage by fighting and bullying others?

These are the greatest blessings in human relationships and the means by which a family’s fortunes flourish for a long time. When reading the opening passages of the “Three Books” (here referring to Confucian classics), one must reflect on them carefully.

It also says: “The root of benevolence lies in serving one’s parents.”

The Hongdao lu says: Here, “root” does not mean what is opposed to “flower,” nor does it mean a seed or kernel. It refers to the underlying basis in which something is as it is and to which it ultimately returns; hence it is called the “root.” Benevolence is benevolence not because one speaks vaguely of loving others, but because Heaven gives life to fathers and sons, endowing them with a deep affection that arises naturally between them. This affection takes root in serving one’s parents. That is why it says, “The root of benevolence lies in serving one’s parents.”

The same applies to what follows about righteousness, wisdom, propriety, and music. When one reaches the realm of music, the vitality of life naturally comes forth. Once it has emerged, how could it be stopped? The whole of benevolence is then fully expressed, its effects made manifest to the utmost, and a person begins to dance with hands and feet. All of this springs from the inherent roots of benevolence, righteousness, wisdom, propriety, and music. It is neither sought outside oneself nor achieved through external things; it directly points people toward a vital and essential path of self-cultivation.

In general, the words of the sages are like the life force by which creation brings forth living things: within them lie all principles. Though readers may see layer upon layer, it is as if everything unfolded from a single flower bud. This is the root of benevolence. When reading this passage, one should reflect on it with care.

The “Liao’e” from the Minor Odes says:

Tall grows the e-harvest,

yet it looks not like e, but like hao.

How sad, my parents!

How hard you worked to bear and raise me.

Tall grows the e-harvest,

yet it looks not like e, but like wei.

How sad, my parents!

How you labored and were worn down to raise me.

When the bottle is empty, it is a disgrace to the great wine jar.

For one who lives alone and bereft,

it would truly be better to have died young.

Without a father, on whom can I rely?

Without a mother, on whom can I rely?

Going out, I am anxious and afraid;

returning home, I have nowhere to go.

My father begot me; my mother raised me, comforted me, and cared for me, bringing me to adulthood and nurturing me. She also…

My father gave me life and raised me, and I wish to repay his kindness, but it is boundless as the heavens; I can never repay it fully. The Southern Mountain stands tall, and fierce winds blow across it. The people seem able to live in peace—why, then, must I suffer such hardship? The Southern Mountain stands tall, and gusts of wind sweep over it. The people seem able to live in peace—why, then, can I not live out my years and fulfill my duty to my father?

The Hongdao lu says: “Poems from times of peace and prosperity use measured, gentle language; poems from times of decline and disorder tend to speak with urgency and intensity.” Thus, “Calling My Mother to Come Home” (the title of a poem about a mother calling her child back from a distant journey) does not mean the poet is unaware of the hardships his parents endured in raising him. Rather, he calls out in this way because he is mindful of their profound care. A noble person who understands the poet’s feelings should not blame him; what he says surely does not arise from personal resentment.

“Climbing the Hill” (the title of a poem about a son away from home who climbs a mountain and longs for his parents) likewise does not mean the poet is unaware of his family’s news or their anxieties. Yet he still acts with care and comforts his family, and so may be said to express his affection fully. Now the poet can neither return home to care for his parents and fulfill his duty as a son, nor do anything to relieve their worries and thereby show gratitude for the kindness of his father and ruler. With no one else to blame, he can only reproach himself. When he says, “I am not the e-jiao plant, but the hao grass,” and laments that “the heavens are boundless,” he is calling out to Heaven in grief and longing for his family. How could this be something he chose freely?

As for the lines “The Southern Mountain stands tall, and fierce winds blow,” the sorrow they express is endless; then, with tears and blood, the poet gives voice to his lament, until even he himself seems scarcely aware of what he is doing. Mencius said, “Shun was truly a profoundly filial person; even at the age of fifty, he still longed for his parents’ love.” These poems, perhaps, give full expression to just such deep longing.

The Book of Rites says: “When a filial child has deep love in the heart, it shows in a gentle expression; a gentle expression gives rise to a pleasing countenance; and a pleasing countenance gives rise to a humble bearing. When a filial child holds a jade object, it is as though holding something full to the brim: with care and caution, as if it might be too heavy to bear or might slip from the hands. A stern, severe manner is not how one should serve one’s parents.”

The Hongdao lu says: “Zixia asked about serving one’s parents with all one’s strength. Confucius taught him that what is difficult is one’s expression and manner. What does this mean? Shun wept to Heaven and said, ‘I have worked hard in the fields and fulfilled my duty as a son—that is all.’ This shows that doing one’s utmost and maintaining a gentle expression are two different things.”

The bond between father and son rests on affection. Our parents are our parents because they brought us into being; we are who we are, in turn, because we can help bring our parents’ hopes to fruition. A person’s expression is the outward sign of the movement of their vital energy; it cannot be forced or put on. When the heart is at ease, the vital energy is at ease; when the vital energy is at ease, it naturally shows in the face. The reason for this is often hard to explain, yet it appears of its own accord. Zixia did not fail to understand this principle. He was simply careful about observing ritual, and worried that he might think doing his utmost was enough to fulfill the Way of filial piety …

Because Zeng Shen was kindhearted, Confucius encouraged and guided him. Otherwise, given Zigong’s strength in literary composition, most people who studied ritual would have come from his school. Could he really have failed to understand that solemn dignity, respect, and carefulness are not the foundation of serving one’s parents?

Zengzi said, “When a filial child cares for their parents, they should make their parents happy and not go against their wishes; make their eyes and ears comfortable, and their daily lives peaceful; and provide food and drink with all their heart and strength. So whatever their parents love, they too should love; whatever their parents honor, they too should honor. Even dogs and horses can be made obedient—how much more so a human being?”

The Record says, “‘Caring with all one’s heart’ means giving one’s full attention and intention; this is what ‘loyal care’ means. It is not the same as merely saying that one has exerted oneself. Mencius said that when Zengzi cared for his father, Zeng Xi, he always prepared wine and meat. When the food was to be put away, he first asked whom his father intended to give the leftovers to. Asked whether any food remained, Zengzi always answered that there was. Could this be all that filial devotion means? Zeng Xi loved to eat sour jujubes, and because Zengzi could not bear to eat them after his father died, he gave them up too. In all these things, how could he not have given his full heart? To serve one’s parents as Zengzi did may be called coming close to the utmost of benevolence.”

Zilu said, “How sad it is to be poor! While one’s parents are alive, there is no money to provide for them; after they die, there is no money to bury them.” Confucius said, “If you can offer your parents a simple meal of beans and clear water, yet wholeheartedly make them happy, that is filial devotion.”

The Record says, “‘Making one’s parents happy’ means that we should not demand that others provide the three sacrificial animals and five great vessels—the lavish offerings and ritual foods. Otherwise, no scholar could be considered good at caring for parents. Nor should we urge people to provide rich offerings and ornate coffins; otherwise, no poor person could be considered good at burying their parents. A simple bean dish is not delicious, but it can curb extravagance; clear water is not sweet, but it can sober those who are intoxicated. Who can say these few words do not contain profound instruction?”

“Nan Gai”: Filial children encourage one another to care for their parents.

Walking along the southern slope, they gather orchids. Longing for their parents at home, they keep them in their thoughts and cannot be at peace. Those who remain at home should not idle away their time in play; prepare abundant meals, and make breakfast clean and appetizing.

Walking along the southern slope, the plants grow thick. Those who remain at home should keep their expressions gentle. Longing for their parents, they cannot bear to stay away for long; prepare supper, and set out the morning meal with care.

Otters at the river’s edge plunge through the waves in search of bream and carp. In the forest, young birds cry for food as their parents feed them. Even birds and beasts raise their young and cherish them deeply. If people care for their parents without respect, they draw close to the animals. Urge yourselves to be ever more reverent, and so receive abundant blessings.

The Record says, “With this poem added, the chapter comes to an end. After the rites and music of the Zhou declined, benevolence, righteousness, and filial devotion also grew faint. Then some people no longer regarded their own fathers as fathers, while others informed on their fathers for stealing a sheep. Worse still, after their mothers died, some sang songs, treating callousness as a principle, while failing to understand the duty to repay their origins and remember the kindness of those who raised them…”

How regrettable! Are all things truly inferior to human beings? Although this poem has no specific lyrics, it was performed with music at the village drinking ceremony, an ancient rite in which local people hosted guests at a banquet. Through its music, the noble person sought its meaning and gave voice to gratitude, hoping that benevolence and filial piety would not be forsaken.