ofa cauldron onthe sheetofpaper.'In olden times they didn't use a cooking-pot on the stove to cook their food in,they used a three-legged cauldron like this and lit a fire underneath it. Whenthey caught a deer they put it in a cauldron to seethe it. Those ancientEmperors and great ministers were very cruel. If they didn't like somebody,they would pretend that they had committed some crime or other, and thenthey would put them in a cauldron and boil them. In the Records of anHistorian Lin Xiangru says to the King of Qin, "Deceiving Your Majesty was acapital offence.I beg toapproach the cauldron."What hemeant was,"I deserveto die.Put me in the cauldron and boil me.""'Often in my story-books I've seen the words "asking about the cauldrons in theCentral Plain",'said the boy.'It seems tomean the same thing as"chasing thedeerintheCentral Plain":'It does,' said the man. 'King Yu of the Xia dynasty, the first dynasty that everwas, collected metal from all the nine provinces of the Empire and used it tocast nine great cauldrons with. "Metal" in those days meant bronze. Each ofthese bronze cauldrons had the name of one of the nine provinces on it and amap showing the mountains and rivers of that province. In later times whoeverbecame masterof theEmpire automaticallybecametheguardian of thesecauldrons.InThe Chronicleof Zuo it says that when theViscount of Chu wasreviewing his troops on Zhou territory and the Zhou king sent Prince Man tohim with his royal compliments,theViscount questioned PrinceMan aboutthesize and weight of the cauldrons. Of course, as ruler of the whole Empire, onlythe Zhou king had the right to be guardian of the cauldrons. For a mereViscount like the ruler of Chu to ask questions about them showed that he wasplanningto seizetheEmpireforhimself.'So "asking about the cauldrons" and "chasing the deer" bothmean wanting to be Emperor, 'said the boy.'And "not knowing who will killthe deer" means not knowing who is going to be Emperor.''That's right,' said the man.'As time went by these expressions came to beapplied to other situations as well, but originally they were only used in thesense of wanting to be Emperor'He sighed.'For the common people though,the subjects of Empire, our role is to be the deer. It may be uncertain who willkill the deer, but the deer gets killed all right. There's no uncertainty aboutthat.He walked over to the window and gazed outside. The sky had now turned aleaden hue showing that snow was on its way.He sighed again
of a cauldron on the sheet of paper. 'In olden times they didn't use a cooking-pot on the stove to cook their food in, they used a three-legged cauldron like this and lit a fire underneath it. When they caught a deer they put it in a cauldron to seethe it. Those ancient Emperors and great ministers were very cruel. If they didn't like somebody, they would pretend that they had committed some crime or other, and then they would put them in a cauldron and boil them. In the Records of an Historian Lin Xiangru says to the King of Qin, "Deceiving Your Majesty was a capital offence. I beg to approach the cauldron." What he meant was, "I deserve to die. Put me in the cauldron and boil me."' 'Often in my story-books I've seen the words "asking about the cauldrons in the Central Plain",' said the boy. 'It seems to mean the same thing as "chasing the deer in the Central Plain".' 'It does,' said the man. 'King Yu of the Xia dynasty, the first dynasty that ever was, collected metal from all the nine provinces of the Empire and used it to cast nine great cauldrons with. "Metal" in those days meant bronze. Each of these bronze cauldrons had the name of one of the nine provinces on it and a map showing the mountains and rivers of that province. In later times whoever became master of the Empire automatically became the guardian of these cauldrons. In The Chronicle of Zuo it says that when the Viscount of Chu was reviewing his troops on Zhou territory and the Zhou king sent Prince Man to him with his royal compliments, the Viscount questioned Prince Man about the size and weight of the cauldrons. Of course, as ruler of the whole Empire, only the Zhou king had the right to be guardian of the cauldrons. For a mere Viscount like the ruler of Chu to ask questions about them showed that he was planning to seize the Empire for himself.' 'So "asking about the cauldrons" and "chasing the deer" both mean wanting to be Emperor, ' said the boy. 'And "not knowing who will kill the deer" means not knowing who is going to be Emperor.' 'That's right,' said the man. 'As time went by these expressions came to be applied to other situations as well, but originally they were only used in the sense of wanting to be Emperor.' He sighed. 'For the common people though, the subjects of Empire, our role is to be the deer. It may be uncertain who will kill the deer, but the deer gets killed all right. There's no uncertainty about that.' He walked over to the window and gazed outside. The sky had now turned a leaden hue showing that snow was on its way. He sighed again
'He must be a cruel God up there. Those hundreds of poor, innocent souls onthe roads in this freezing weather. The snow will only add to their sufferings.Two figures caught his eye, moving along the highway from the south. Theywalked close together, side by side, each of them wearing a coolie hat and arain-cape. As they drew nearer, he recognized them with a cry of pleasure.'It's Uncle Huang and Uncle Gu, he said to the boy as he hurried out to greetthem.'Zongxi, Yanwu, what good wind blows you hither?' he called out to them.The one he addressed as'Zongxi'was a somewhat portly man with a plentifulbeard covering me lower half of his face. His full name was Huang Zongxi andhe, like his host, was a man of Zhe-jiang Province. The other one, a tall, thinman with a swarthy complexion, was Gu Yanwu, a native of Kunshan inJiangsu Province. Huang Zongxi and Gu Yanwu were two of the foremostscholars of their day. Both of them, from patriotic motives, had gone intoretirement when the Ming Empire collapsed, being unwilling to take officeunderaforeignpower.Gu Yanwu drew a little closer before replying.'Liuliang, we have something serious to discuss with you. That's what brings usheretoday'Liuliang was the man's name, then-Lu Liuliang. His family had lived forgenerations in Chongde, a prefecture in the Hangzhou district of ZhejiangProvince. Like Huang Zongxi and Gu Yanwu, to whom you have just beenintroduced, he is an historical personage, famous among those Southerngentlemen who, during the last days of the Ming dynasty and the early days oftheManchuconquest, buried themselves away on their estates and refused totakepartinpubliclife.Lu Liuliang observed the grave expression on his visitors' faces. Knowing of oldhowunfailinglyGuYanwu'spolitical judgementwasto betrusted,herealizedthat what the latter had referred to as'something serious'must be very seriousindeed. He clasped his hands and bowed to his guest politely.'Come inside,'he said.'Drink a few cups ofwine first, to
'He must be a cruel God up there. Those hundreds of poor, innocent souls on the roads in this freezing weather. The snow will only add to their sufferings.' Two figures caught his eye, moving along the highway from the south. They walked close together, side by side, each of them wearing a coolie hat and a rain-cape. As they drew nearer, he recognized them with a cry of pleasure. 'It's Uncle Huang and Uncle Gu,' he said to the boy as he hurried out to greet them. 'Zongxi, Yanwu, what good wind blows you hither?' he called out to them. The one he addressed as 'Zongxi' was a somewhat portly man with a plentiful beard covering me lower half of his face. His full name was Huang Zongxi and he, like his host, was a man of Zhe-jiang Province. The other one, a tall, thin man with a swarthy complexion, was Gu Yanwu, a native of Kunshan in Jiangsu Province. Huang Zongxi and Gu Yanwu were two of the foremost scholars of their day. Both of them, from patriotic motives, had gone into retirement when the Ming Empire collapsed, being unwilling to take office under a foreign power. Gu Yanwu drew a little closer before replying. 'Liuliang, we have something serious to discuss with you. That's what brings us here today.' Liuliang was the man's name, then—Lu Liuliang. His family had lived for generations in Chongde, a prefecture in the Hangzhou district of Zhejiang Province. Like Huang Zongxi and Gu Yanwu, to whom you have just been introduced, he is an historical personage, famous among those Southern gentlemen who, during the last days of the Ming dynasty and the early days of the Manchu conquest, buried themselves away on their estates and refused to take part in public life. Lu Liuliang observed the grave expression on his visitors' faces. Knowing of old how unfailingly Gu Yanwu's political judgement was to be trusted, he realized that what the latter had referred to as 'something serious' must be very serious indeed. He clasped his hands and bowed to his guest politely. 'Come inside, ' he said. 'Drink a few cups of wine first, to
warm yourselves up a bit.As he ushered them into the study, he gave an order to theboy.'Baozhong, tell your mother that Uncle Huang and Uncle Guare here. Ask her to slice a couple of platefuls of that goat's meat pate to go withourwine.In a minute or two the boy came in again, accompanied by his younger brotherThey were carrying three sets of chopsticks and wine-cups which they laid onthe study table. An old servant followed them carrying a wine-kettle andbalancing some plates of cold meat. Lu Liuliang waited until the two boys andthe servant were outside the room and closed the study door.'Come, my friends,'he said.'Wine first.'Huang Zongxi declined gloomily with a brief shake of the head; but Gu Yanwuhelping himself unceremoniouslyfrom the wine-kettle, downed half a dozen ofthetinycupfulsinquicksuccession.'I suppose your visit has somethingto do with this MingHistory business, ' said Lu Liuliang. 'Precisely, ' said Huang Zongxi. Gu Yanwuraised his wine-cup and, in ringing the following couplet:The cool wind sways not me, howe'er it blow; For me the bright moon stillshines everywhere.'That's a splendid couplet of yours, Liuliang, ' he said. 'Whenever I drink winenow, I have to recite it-and do it justice, too, 'he added, with a ceremoniousflourish of his wine-cup.In spite of Lu Liuliang's patriotic unwillingness to serve, a local official,impressedby whathehad heard ofLu's reputation,had once sought torecommend him as a'hidden talent'meriting a summons to the Manchu Courtfor suitable employment; but Lu had made it clear that he would die ratherthan accept such a tones, recitedsummons, and the matter had been dropped. Some timelater, however, when
warm yourselves up a bit.' As he ushered them into the study, he gave an order to the boy. 'Baozhong, tell your mother that Uncle Huang and Uncle Gu are here. Ask her to slice a couple of platefuls of that goat's meat pate to go with our wine.' In a minute or two the boy came in again, accompanied by his younger brother. They were carrying three sets of chopsticks and wine-cups which they laid on the study table. An old servant followed them carrying a wine-kettle and balancing some plates of cold meat. Lu Liuliang waited until the two boys and the servant were outside the room and closed the study door. 'Come, my friends, ' he said. 'Wine first.' Huang Zongxi declined gloomily with a brief shake of the head; but Gu Yanwu, helping himself unceremoniously from the wine-kettle, downed half a dozen of the tiny cupfuls in quick succession. 'I suppose your visit has something to do with this Ming History business, ' said Lu Liuliang. 'Precisely, ' said Huang Zongxi. Gu Yanwu raised his wine-cup and, in ringing the following couplet: The cool wind sways not me, howe'er it blow; For me the bright moon still shines everywhere. 'That's a splendid couplet of yours, Liuliang, ' he said. 'Whenever I drink wine now, I have to recite it—and do it justice, too, ' he added, with a ceremonious flourish of his wine-cup. In spite of Lu Liuliang's patriotic unwillingness to serve, a local official, impressed by what he had heard of Lu's reputation, had once sought to recommend him as a 'hidden talent' meriting a summons to the Manchu Court for suitable employment; but Lu had made it clear that he would die rather than accept such a tones, recited summons, and the matter had been dropped. Some time later, however, when
another high-ranking official sent forward his name as a 'distinguished scholarof exceptional merit', Lu realized that his continued refusal would be construedby the Court as an open slight, with fatal consequences for himself and perhapshisfamily.Accordinglyhehadhad himselftonsured(thoughnotinfact withany intention of becoming a real monk), whereupon the Government officialswere finally convinced of his determination and ceased urging him to come outofhisretirement.Gu Yanwu's enthusiasm for Lu's somewhat pedestrian couplet sprang from thefact that it contained a hidden message. In Chinese the word for 'cool' is qing(the word chosen by the Manchus for their new 'Chinese' dynasty) and theword forbright' is ming (the name of the old Chinese dynasty they hadsupplanted). So the couplet Gu had recited could be understood to mean:The Qing wind sways not me, how e'er it blow; For me the Ming moon stillshines everywhere.In other words, 'I will never bow to the Manchus, however they may threatenand cajole.Formethe Empireis still theMingEmpire,whoseloyal subjectIremain. Although the poem in which these lines occurred could not bepublished, they were familiar to all the like-minded scholars of Lu's wideacquaintance, and Huang, hearing them recited now by Gu, responded to thechallenge by raising a wine-cup in homage.'Yes, it is a very good poem,' he said, and drained it off at a gulp.Thank you both, but it doesn't deserve your praise,' said Lu Liuliang.Chancing to glance upwards at that moment, Gu Yanwu found his attentioncaught by a large painting which was hanging on one of the walls. It must havemeasurednearenoughfourfeetfromtoptobottomandwell overthreeyardshorizontally. It was a landscape, so magnificently conceived and boldlyexecuted that he could not forbear a cry of admiration. The sole inscription onthis enormous painting was the phrase This Lovely Land' written in very largecharacters atthetop.'From thebrushworkI should saythis mustbeErzhan's work,'he said.'You are absolutely right, said Lu.This Erzhan's real name was Zha Shibiao. He was a well-known painter in the late Ming, early Manchu period and a good friend of thethree men present
another high-ranking official sent forward his name as a 'distinguished scholar of exceptional merit', Lu realized that his continued refusal would be construed by the Court as an open slight, with fatal consequences for himself and perhaps his family. Accordingly he had had himself tonsured (though not in fact with any intention of becoming a real monk), whereupon the Government officials were finally convinced of his determination and ceased urging him to come out of his retirement. Gu Yanwu's enthusiasm for Lu's somewhat pedestrian couplet sprang from the fact that it contained a hidden message. In Chinese the word for 'cool' is qing (the word chosen by the Manchus for their new 'Chinese' dynasty) and the word for 'bright' is ming (the name of the old Chinese dynasty they had supplanted). So the couplet Gu had recited could be understood to mean: The Qing wind sways not me, how e'er it blow; For me the Ming moon still shines everywhere. In other words, 'I will never bow to the Manchus, however they may threaten and cajole. For me the Empire is still the Ming Empire, whose loyal subject I remain.' Although the poem in which these lines occurred could not be published, they were familiar to all the like-minded scholars of Lu's wide acquaintance, and Huang, hearing them recited now by Gu, responded to the challenge by raising a wine-cup in homage. 'Yes, it is a very good poem,' he said, and drained it off at a gulp. Thank you both, but it doesn't deserve your praise,' said Lu Liuliang. Chancing to glance upwards at that moment, Gu Yanwu found his attention caught by a large painting which was hanging on one of the walls. It must have measured near enough four feet from top to bottom and well over three yards horizontally. It was a landscape, so magnificently conceived and boldly executed that he could not forbear a cry of admiration. The sole inscription on this enormous painting was the phrase This Lovely Land' written in very large characters at the top. 'From the brushwork I should say this must be Erzhan's work,' he said. 'You are absolutely right,' said Lu. This Erzhan's real name was Zha Shibiao. He was a wellknown painter in the late Ming, early Manchu period and a good friend of the three men present
'How is it thatsofine a paintinglacks a signature?'saidHuang.Lu sighed. The painting had a message, 'he said. 'But you know what a stolidcareful person Erzhan is. He wouldn't sign it and he wouldn't write anyinscription.He painted it forme on a sudden impulse when he was stayingwith meamonth or so ago.Whydon't youtwo write afewlines on it?Gu and Huang got up and went over to examine the painting more closely. Itwas a picture of the Yangtze, the Great River, rolling majestically eastwardsbetween innumerablepeaks,with a suitablegarnishingof gnarled pines andstrange misshapenrocks:a very beautiful landscapewere it not for theall-pervading mist and cloud which seemed calculated to create an oppressivefeeling of gloom in anyone looking at it.Thislovelyland undertheheelofthebarbarian!'saidGuYanwu.And wehaveto swallow our humiliation and go on living in it. It makes my blood boil. Whydon't you do an inscription, Liuliang-a poem that will give voice to whatErzhan had in mind to say?''Very well, said Lu Liuliang, and he took the huge scroll carefully down fromthewall and spread it out onthe desk,whileHuangZongxi setabout grindinghim some ink.Hepicked up a writing-brush and for some minutes could beobserved muttering to himself in the throes of composition; then, writingstraight on to the painting and with pauses only for moistening the brush, hequickly completed the following poem:Is this the sane of Great Song's south retreat,This lovely land that hides its face in shame?Or is it after Mount Yai's fateful leap?This lovelyland then scarce dared breathe its nameNow that I seem to read the painter's mind,My bitter teardrops match his drizzling rain.Past woes I see reborn in present time:This draws the groans that no gag can restrain
'How is it that so fine a painting lacks a signature?' said Huang. Lu sighed. The painting had a message, ' he said. 'But you know what a stolid, careful person Erzhan is. He wouldn't sign it and he wouldn't write any inscription. He painted it for me on a sudden impulse when he was staying with me a month or so ago. Why don't you two write a few lines on it?' Gu and Huang got up and went over to examine the painting more closely. It was a picture of the Yangtze, the Great River, rolling majestically eastwards between innumerable peaks, with a suitable garnishing of gnarled pines and strange misshapen rocks: a very beautiful landscape were it not for the all-pervading mist and cloud which seemed calculated to create an oppressive feeling of gloom in anyone looking at it. This lovely land under the heel of the barbarian!' said Gu Yanwu. 'And we have to swallow our humiliation and go on living in it. It makes my blood boil. Why don't you do an inscription, Liuliang—a poem that will give voice to what Erzhan had in mind to say?' 'Very well,' said Lu Liuliang, and he took the huge scroll carefully down from the wall and spread it out on the desk, while Huang Zongxi set about grinding him some ink. He picked up a writing-brush and for some minutes could be observed muttering to himself in the throes of composition; then, writing straight on to the painting and with pauses only for moistening the brush, he quickly completed the following poem: Is this the sane of Great Song's south retreat, This lovely land that hides its face in shame? Or is it after Mount Yai's fateful leap? This lovely land then scarce dared breathe its name. Now that I seem to read the painter's mind, My bitter teardrops match his drizzling rain. Past woes I see reborn in present time: This draws the groans that no gag can restrain