司马相如列传 — Shiji

Sima Xiangru was from Chengdu in the Commandery of Shu. His style name was Changqing. As a boy he loved books and studied swordplay, so his parents called him "Dog Son." After completing his studies, he admired the character of Lin Xiangru and changed his own name to match. Through purchase of rank he became an official, serving Emperor Xiaojing as a Permanent Attendant of Martial Cavalry—a post he did not enjoy. When the Emperor proved indifferent to poetry and rhapsody, the King of Liang arrived at court. Among the wandering scholars who accompanied him were Zou Yang from Qi, Mei Cheng from Huaiyin, and Zhuang Jifuzi from Wu. Xiangru was delighted to meet them and, feigning illness, resigned his post to join the King of Liang.

The King assigned Xiangru quarters among his other scholars, and for several years he lived and studied among them, composing the "Rhapsody of Zixu." When the King of Liang died, Xiangru returned home—only to find himself poor, with no means of support.

He had long been acquainted with Wang Ji, the magistrate of Linqiong. Ji sent word: "Changqing, you've been wandering without success for so long. Come visit me." Xiangru went to Linqiong and took lodging at the district inn. Wang Ji feigned great respect, calling on Xiangru daily. At first Xiangru received him, but then claimed illness and sent his attendant to decline. Ji only grew more attentive.

Among the wealthy families of Linqiong, Zhuo Wangsun had eight hundred household servants, and Zheng Zheng several hundred more. They said to each other: "The magistrate has an honored guest. Let's prepare a banquet for him"—and invited the magistrate too. When the day came, hundreds of guests assembled. By noon, they sent for Sima Changqing, who declined from illness and would not attend. Wang Ji dared not even taste the food, but went personally to escort Xiangru. Xiangru reluctantly agreed, and once he arrived, every guest was charmed.

As the drinking grew lively, Wang Ji stepped forward with a zither: "I've heard how much you enjoy music—perhaps you would play for your own pleasure?" Xiangru declined at first, then played several pieces. Now Zhuo Wangsun had a daughter named Wenjun, recently widowed, who loved music. Knowing this, Xiangru had Wang Ji arrange the meeting, and he expressed his affection through the melodies. When Xiangru came to Linqiong in his carriage and horses, he was elegant and distinguished; when he drank at the Zhuo household and played the zither, Wenjun watched from behind a screen. Her heart stirred with admiration and longing, but she feared she might not be worthy. After the banquet, Xiangru sent rich gifts to Wenjun's attendants with messages of affection. That night, Wenjun eloped with him to Chengdu.

At home, they had nothing but bare walls. Zhuo Wangsun flew into a rage: "My daughter has disgraced herself completely. I won't kill her, but she won't see a single coin." Friends spoke to Wangsun on her behalf, but he refused to listen.

After some time, Wenjun grew unhappy. "Changqing," she said, "let's go back to Linqiong. We could borrow enough from my brothers to live on—why must we suffer like this?" Together they returned to Linqiong, sold all their carriages and horses, bought a tavern, and set Wenjun to mind the counter while Xiangru worked the market in a leather apron, washing dishes alongside the servants.

When Zhuo Wangsun heard of this, he was ashamed and shut his doors. His brothers and relatives pleaded with him: "You have a son and two daughters; what they lack is not wealth. Now Wenjun has given herself to Sima Changqing. He's traveled far and seen much, and though poor, his talent makes him a worthy match. And consider the scandal—why subject yourself to this humiliation?"

Some time passed. A man from Shu named Yang Deyi served as a dog-keeper in the imperial court. One day the Emperor was reading the "Rhapsody of Zixu" and praised it highly. "Alas that I cannot have lived in the same era as this man!" he exclaimed. Deyi replied: "Your servant's fellow townsman, Sima Xiangru, composed it himself." The Emperor was astonished and summoned Xiangru.

Xiangru acknowledged the work was his, but said: "This rhapsody describes the affairs of princes—hardly worthy of Your Majesty's attention. I ask permission to compose a rhapsody on Your Majesty's imperial hunting grounds." The Emperor agreed, ordering the Secretariat to provide writing materials.

Xiangru explained his method: "Zixu" means empty words, for he speaks of Chu's accomplishments; "Mr. Wuyou" means Mr. Nothing, for he debates without substance; "Sir Wushi" means Sir Null, for there is no such person. He would use these three figures to articulate the righteousness of the True Emperor. By attributing speeches to them, he would extol the parks and hunting grounds of the Son of Heaven while urging restraint and economy in the final chapter.

When Xiangru presented his rhapsody to the Emperor, His Majesty was delighted. It read:

Thus there were towering mountains, rugged and precipitous, deep forests of giant trees, layered and jagged crags. Mount Jiuzong, Mount Jie, and the Southern Mountain rose lofty; rocks jutted like upturned cauldrons and chisels, peaks stood high and perilous. Deep glens connected the valleys, winding gullies and ditches sprawled, gaping chasms opened wide, hills and isles intermingled, steeps and scarps uneven. Hillocks and cliffs were hidden, the terrain rough and lush. Ascending and descending, the ground gently sloped; pools and marshes spread everywhere, water seeped and overflowed, reaching out over the level plain. For a thousand li the land was all smoothed and built upon.

Covered with green orchids, draped with sweet flag, mingled with lovage, mixed with angelica. Spread out the joint-grass, clustered the sedge, thoroughwort and fragrant orchid, lovage and leopard-lily, purple ginger and mioga, coptis and sweet iris, fresh twigs and yellow sandwort, wild rice and green galingale, they spread across vast marshes, stretched over broad plains, spreading luxuriantly far and wide, bending with the wind, exhaling fragrance, sending forth intense perfume, dense and lush, all scents burst forth, dispersing and pervading, thick and fragrant.

Then he gazed around and surveyed far and wide; his vision stretched into the deep and boundless, blurred and indistinct, with no edge to be seen, no limit to be observed. The sun rose from the eastern marshes and set behind the western slopes. On its south side, even in deep winter, creatures flourished, water danced in leaping waves; beasts there were the mao yak, the pian ox, the water buffalo, the zhu deer, the milu deer, creatures with red heads and round hooves, the qiongqi monster, elephants, and rhinoceroses. On its north side, even in high summer, frozen ground cracked open and people crossed rivers by treading on ice; beasts there were the qilin, the horned duan, the taotu, the tuoyi, the qiongqiong, the dianxi, the jueti, donkeys, and mules. Then the detached palaces and separate lodges filled the mountains and straddled the valleys, high colonnades with four-sided galleries, tiered halls and winding chambers, painted rafters and jade-studded eave-tiles, carriage roads winding unbroken, footpaths meandering everywhere, the long journey requiring a stop midway for the night.

"Most enjoyable," replied Zixu.

"And did you take much prey?"

"Not much."

"I am pleased that the King of Qi sought to impress me with his multitude of carriages and horsemen, while I could respond with an account of the hunt at Clouddream."

"Might I hear the details?"

"Certainly. The King dispatched a thousand chariots and selected ten thousand cavalry, and hunted along the seacoast. Soldiers filled the marshes; nets spread across the hills; rabbits and deer fled before them; they brought down elk and seized the unicorn. At the salt marshes they cut fresh meat stained on the wheels. When the arrows found their marks and the takings were many, they boasted of their prowess. Turning to me, the King asked: 'Does Chu possess plains and broad marshes for hunting and pleasure, equal to these? How does the King of Chu's hunt compare to mine?'

"I descended from my carriage and replied: 'Your servant is but a humble man of Chu. For over a decade I have been honored to serve as a palace guard, often accompanying excursions into the gardens, viewing what I could—but I have hardly seen it all. How then could I speak of the outer marshes?'

"'Still,' said the King of Qi, 'tell me what you have heard and seen.'

"'Very well,' I replied. 'I have heard that Chu possesses seven marshes. I have seen one of them—Clouddream—and have glimpsed nothing of the others. What I have seen is but the smallest portion, called Clouddream. Clouddream extends nine hundred li in each direction.

"'Within it rise mountains of winding height and towering peaks, their ridges craggy and irregular, their peaks concealing and revealing the sun and moon. They interlock and twist upward to touch the clouds; their slopes and embankments descend to join the rivers.

"'To the south stretch plains and broad marshes, rising and falling in gentle undulations, bordered by the great river and bounded by Mount Wu. On the higher, drier ground grow ferns, bracken, wild onions, and southernwood; in the lower, wetter regions grow reeds, bulrushes, water lilies, lotus root, and gourd vines beyond counting.

"'To the west spring bubbling springs and clear pools, their waters rippling and flowing. Lotuses bloom on the surface; great stones and white sand lie hidden beneath.

"'Within these waters dwell divine turtles, serpents, and river dragons; tortoises, hawksbill turtles, and soft-shelled turtles. To the north stand massive trees—nanmu, phoenix tree, cassia, and Sichuan pepper—together with rushes, willows, and chestnuts. Orange and pomelo perfume the air.

"'Above fly red apes and long-tailed macaques, yuanchu birds, and kingfishers. Below roam white tigers, black leopards, great serpents, and wild rhinoceroses, elephants, and creatures of strangest form.

"'The King dispatched warriors like Zhuan Zhu to subdue these beasts. He rode a team of docile piebald horses, in a chariot of carved jade, with banners of fish-whisker silk and gleaming pearl ornaments, bearing the sword of Gan Jiang on the left and the strong bow of Wu on the right. Sun Yang rode as co-pilot, Xian E held the reins. They drove at a measured pace, then charged the cunning beasts—trampling the qiongqiong antelope and the juxu creature, overtaking wild horses and wild yaks, pursuing the wandering ki. Like a sudden squall, like thunder crashing, their arrows never missed—every shaft found its mark, piercing eyes, piercing chests, severing sinews. Prey fell like rain, covering the grass and earth.

"'Then the King of Chu ceased his drive and wandered at leisure through the forest, observing the warriors' fierce valor and the beasts' terror. He gathered every manner of spectacle.

"'Meanwhile, the ladies of Zheng—fair as jade—arrayed in gauze and silk, draped in gossamer robes like mist, their trains flowing, moved through the gardens. They pursued the jade-green kingfishers with their arrows, loosed the fine-stringed bolts, bringing down white swans, wild geese, and even black cranes. When wearied, they floated on crystal waters in painted boats with kingfisher-feather canopies and cassia oars, angling for cowrie shells. Gongs and drums resounded, flutes sang, the boatmen's voices carried far, fish and water-creatures fled in panic, waves rose and surged, rocks clashed together—all echoing like thunder heard a hundred li away.

"'The hunters then ceased. Gongs fell silent, signal fires dimmed. Chariots fell into line, horsemen reformed ranks, and we streamed back in orderly procession.

"'The King of Chu then ascended the Clouddream Terrace, rested in serene composure, and feasted on carefully prepared delicacies. 'Your Majesty,' said I, 'does not merely drive about all day without leaving your carriage, carving meat and tempering wheels for your own amusement. I have observed this, and I say—the Kingdom of Qi falls short indeed.'

"The King of Qi could make no reply.

My journey is urgent, and I cannot learn the details; allow me to briefly outline the essentials for you, my lord. Indeed, in the world, there must first be extraordinary individuals, and only then can there be extraordinary undertakings; with extraordinary undertakings, only then can there be extraordinary achievements. The ordinary is precisely what is set apart from the extraordinary. Thus it is said: when an extraordinary endeavor first arises, the common people fear it; but when it reaches completion, the whole world rests in peace. In ancient times, the great flood burst forth, spreading and overflowing. The people climbed to high places and descended again, migrating this way and that, dwelling on rugged ground without any security. Xia Yu was deeply troubled by this. He dammed the mighty waters, opened up the Yangzi, dredged the Yellow River, drained the inundated lands, and cleared away the silt, guiding the waters eastward into the sea, and the world was forever tranquil. Who bore such toil in those days? Was it only the common people? His mind was burdened with care, and he toiled with his own body; his hands and feet grew thick calluses, and his skin produced no fine hairs. Therefore his glorious works shine forth without end, and his good name pervades even to the present.

"Sir Null smiled and said: 'Chu has erred, but Qi is not entirely correct either. The reason lords pay tribute is not for treasures and goods, but to fulfill their duties. The reason borders are demarcated is not for defense, but to prevent excess. Now Qi stands as an eastern vassal, yet privately trading with Sushen, abandoning its territory, crossing the sea to hunt—for righteousness, this will not do.

"'Moreover, neither of your arguments has addressed the duty between lord and minister or the proper rites of princes. You have merely competed in hunting pleasures and the grandeur of parks, each trying to outdo the other with extravagance. This cannot bring fame or praise—only serves to demean one's lord and diminish oneself. And what are the affairs of Chu and Qi compared to—Have you never heard of the Emperor's Great Forest?

"'Its left reaches Cangwu, its right extends to the western limit. The Crimson River flows along its southern border; Purple Abyss runs through its north. It dominates the Ba and Chan rivers; it spans the Jing and Wei. The Feng and Hao rivers, the Liao and the Yo—winding, twisting, flowing through its heart. Eight streams divide and flow, each taking its own course. East, west, north, south, they race and surge, passing through the gaps of Pepper Hill, through the sandbars, through the cassia groves, across the vast plains. They thunder down in torrents, rushing through the narrow passes, striking the great stones, churning and roiling, foaming and crashing—waves overturning, currents twisting, spray flying, rocks roaring like thunder, heard hundreds of li away.

Later, someone submitted a memorial accusing Sima Xiangru of accepting bribes while on a diplomatic mission, causing him to lose his post. After over a year, he was recalled and appointed as a Palace Attendant. Xiangru stuttered but excelled in writing. He constantly suffered from diabetes. Having married into the Zhuo family, he was amply wealthy. In his official career, he was never willing to involve himself in the affairs of the high ministers or state matters; he often pleaded illness and lived in seclusion, with no desire for high rank. He frequently accompanied the emperor on hunting trips to the Changyang Palace, at a time when the Son of Heaven delighted in personally shooting bears and boars and chasing wild beasts. Xiangru submitted a memorial to remonstrate against this.

I have heard that among things of the same kind there are those with vastly different capabilities. For strength one praises Wuhuo, for swiftness Qingji, for valor Meng Ben and Xia Yu. In my ignorance, I humbly think that since this is certainly true of men, it must also be so among beasts. Now Your Majesty delights in climbing precipitous and perilous terrain, shooting fierce beasts; if you suddenly encounter an exceptionally ferocious creature, you will be terrified in a place that offers no foothold, the dust of your attendant carriages will be thrown into confusion, the chariot will have no time to turn around, and your men no chance to use their skills. Even with the prowess of Wuhuo and Feng Meng, strength cannot be deployed, and dried trees and rotting stumps would all become perils. It would be like the Hu and Yue starting an uprising beneath the hub, and the Qiang and Yi pressing close against the axle—is that not dangerous! Even if you were perfectly safe and free from mishap, this is fundamentally not what the Son of Heaven should be near. Besides, even when the road is cleared before setting out and galloping only on the main highway, there are still occasional accidents like a broken bit. How much more so when you wade through tangled weeds, gallop over hillocks and grave mounds, with only the joy of chasing beasts before your eyes and no care within to guard against mishap—calamity would come quite naturally, would it not?

Then there were the lofty mountains rising grandly, peaks soaring and crags jutting, dense forests with massive trees, sheer cliffs and precipitous heights. The Nine Peaks and Mount Jie stood in the distance; Mount Southern towered majestically. Rocky ridges and steep ravines, gorges and winding valleys extended endlessly. The terrain rose and fell in undulating waves, basins and lowlands spread abroad, level plains stretched a thousand li, all leveled and paved smooth. Over all this grew fragrant orchids and costsus, mingled with angelica and flowing orchis. Pennisetum and sedge covered the ground; galangal, angelica, ginger, and eupatorium flourished; rushes and calamus, orchids and irises adorned the slopes. Fragrances blended and wafted across the broad plains, spreading far and wide, borne by the wind in waves of intoxicating scent, richly perfumed and intensifying with each breath.

Great stones lined the cliffs, massive rocks leaned at dizzying angles, crags towered and piled one upon another, their peaks sharp and rugged. Rose quartz and jasper, coral growing in clusters, chalcedony spread like variegated scales—agate with its streaks of red, mixed and scattered among the stones. The finest jade and ritual discs were found there, even the famous Hetu jade.

Crossing obliquely through Shaoyang and ascending to Taiyin, I seek companionship with True Men. Twisting and winding through secluded passages, we veer to the right, then traverse the Flying Spring and head due east. I summon all the spirit creatures and choose them, marshaling the host of gods upon the star Yaoguang. I dispatch the Five Emperors to lead the way, and cause Taiyi to turn back and follow Lingyang. Xuanming is on my left, Hanlei on my right; Luli goes before me, Yuhuang behind. I employ Zheng Boqiao as servant and conscript Xianmen; I subordinate Qibo to oversee the Shangfang. Zhurong, alert, clears the road as my bodyguard, purging the foul air before we move forward. I assemble my chariots in their ten thousands, with variegated cloud-canopies and brilliant banners raised high.

From the highlands to the plains, verdant leaves swayed, purple stems branched outward, red blossoms opened, scarlet flowers bloomed resplendently in brilliant profusion, illuminating the vast wilderness.

Wheeling low over Mount Yin, soaring in sinuous curves, I now behold with my own eyes the Queen Mother of the West, her head all white. She wears a jade headdress and dwells in a cave, fortunate to have the three-legged crow as her attendant. If one must live forever in such a fashion, then even saving a myriad ages would bring no joy. I turn my chariot and depart, crossing the road to Mount Buzhou, meeting to feast in the Dark City. I breathe the night mists and dine on the morning clouds, chewing the blossoms of the magic fungus and nibbling the jade-like flowers. Retreating from the shore, I soar aloft, upward like wild swans in surging confusion.

Piercing the lightning's trailing reflection, I waded through the Rain God's torrential downpour. Racing down the long road of wandering, I chased the drifting mist and vanished into the distance. Oppressed by the narrow confines of the world, I relaxed my pace and emerged beyond the northern boundary. I left the garrisoned cavalry at the Dark Portal, then surpassed the forerunners at the Cold Gate. Below, jagged depths without ground; above, vast emptiness without sky. My eyes dazzled, seeing nothing; my ears dazed, hearing nothing. Riding the void, I ascended far away, transcending all companions and existing alone. When Sima Xiangru presented the 'Great Man' rhapsody, the Son of Heaven was overjoyed; he felt as if floating on clouds, as though he roamed between heaven and earth. After Xiangru resigned from office due to illness, he lived in Maoling.

Such trees spread throughout the palace grounds, layering the hills and lining the valleys, following every slope and hollow, extending endlessly into the distance.

Those who draw near to the worthy follow their footsteps; those who stay distant hear only a fleeting rumor. Among the teeming multitude of deeds, those buried in oblivion and never celebrated are beyond counting. Carrying on from the glorious Xia, honoring rulers with high titles and posthumous names, roughly seventy-two lords can be named whose stories are worth telling. Never did anyone of true goodness fail to flourish; who ever saw one steeped in evil survive? Before the time of Xuanyuan the Yellow Emperor, the past is remote and vast, its details beyond our grasp. From the records handed down by the Five Emperors, Three Kings, and Six Classics, only a broad outline can be glimpsed. The Book of Documents says: 'The head is enlightened, the limbs are good!' Taking this as a guide, no ruler surpassed Tang Yao in brilliance, no minister exceeded Hou Ji in worth. Hou Ji laid his foundations under Tang Yao, Gong Liu made his start among the western Rong, King Wen reformed institutions, and so the Zhou dynasty reached its supreme flourishing, its great achievements surpassing those of old. Yet afterward it declined and faded, and for a thousand years its voice was stilled—does this not show a fine beginning but a poor end? However, there is no other explanation: it was simply that they were cautious about the path they set before and carefully bequeathed their teachings to those who came after.

Thus the path was level and easy, simple to follow; the profound grace surged and overflowed, abundant to enrich; the laws and standards shone clearly, ready to serve as a model; the transmission of the orderly succession was consistent, easy to carry on. Hence the enterprise flourished while still in its swaddling clothes and its glory crowned even the achievements of King Wen and King Wu. Examining its origin and tracing its course to the end, there has never been anything so extraordinary and peerless that can compare with what is witnessed today. Yet still they trod Mount Liangfu, ascended Mount Tai, established illustrious titles, and conferred honored names. The virtue of the Great Han gushes like a fountainhead, vast and brimming, spreading out and filling the four borders; clouds stretch and mists scatter, reaching upward through the nine heavens and flowing downward to the eight extremities. All living things are moistened and steeped in it; harmonious qi streams across, martial prowess drifts afar. Near at hand it roams to the source; far and wide it swims in the ripples. Chief evil is drowned and obliterated; darkness becomes bright and luminous. Every insect receives its generous bounty, turning its head back to face the court.

There dwelt black apes and silver gibbons, snub-nosed monkeys and flying squirrels, leeches and caterpillars, toads and large monkeys among the branches.

From bridges and suspended walkways they crossed over, passing through the most remote groves, snatching at hanging vines, leaping across sparse branches, scattering far and wide, wandering and migrating. Thousands of such creatures lived in hundreds of places throughout the park.

Drums sounded in the marshal's pavilion; the hunt was unleashed. The Yangtze and Yellow Rivers became the enclosure; Mount Tai became the watchtower. Chariots and horsemen rose like thunder, shaking heaven and earth. Beaters spread out in all directions, then scattered and pursued game in every form, flooding across hills and marshes like clouds spreading rain.

In the pleasure park of my lord, there is a white beast with black markings; its bearing is admirable. Gentle and amiable, it is the creature befitting a gentleman. I had heard of its fame, and now I see its arrival. Its path leaves no tracks—a sign of Heaven's auspicious omen. This is just as in the time of Shun, when the Yu clan flourished. Gloriously, the qilin roams the sacred altar. In the tenth month of early winter, my lord performs the suburban sacrifice. It pulls my lord's chariot, and the Supreme Deity enjoys the offerings and bestows blessings. Such a qilin had never been seen before the Three Dynasties. The coiling yellow dragon rises with the ascendance of virtue, its colors dazzling, brilliantly radiant. The sun at noon shines bright, awakening the common people. It is recorded in tradition that this is the mount of the one who receives the Mandate of Heaven. Its manifestations follow a pattern, needing no detailed admonition. By analogies and allegories, it conveys the meaning of enfeoffing the sacred mountains.

They wandered at ease, descending to the northern boundary, proceeding directly onward, then veering back toward the capital. They passed rocky crags, traversed sealed mountains, crossed over the Yique and Luohan passes, gazed upon the Luhan and Yichun pavilions, rested at Tangli, turned west to Xuanqu, sailed past Niushou, climbed Dragon Terrace, paused at Fine Willow, observing the valor and strategy of the officials, calculating the gains of the huntsmen.

Those trampled by carriages and horses, those trodden underhoof, those trampled by riders, those driven to exhaustion and terror, crouching and cowering, pierced by weapons yet dying—such bodies lay heaped and scattered, filling pits and valleys, covering plains and marshes.

Songs of Ba and Yu, of Song and Cai, of Huainan and Yuche, the music of Wencheng and the Dian songs—these followed one another in succession, gongs and drums alternating, clanging and resonating, striking the heart and deafening the ear. The music of Jing, Wu, Zheng, and Wei, the melodies of Shao, Huo, Wu, and Xiang, the lingering notes of Yin Yin—all blended together in dazzling variety. The passionate melodies of Yanying, the spiraling tones of Jie Feng, the performances of entertainers and dwarfs, the songs of the Diti singers—all this that delighted the eyes and gladdened the heart was laid out in splendid extravagance before him, beautiful visions behind.