"Return to the Countryside Notes"

Author: Liang Zhangju [Qing Dynasty]
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-03-01
Features: Officials who keep their hearts like springs and stones—could this be the great seclusion spoken of by Manqian? Eating stone marrow, picking orchids, wandering among the reeds, yet holding official posts, leaving footprints in spring pavilions, accumulating fame among those who lie by streams—such sentiments are distant; they are not suited for those who seek to contribute to governance. Wearing long robes and flowing sleeves, dragging purple and green robes, dazzling like clouds on the road, dividing seals at key passes, already bald at a young age, yet still attached to the glory of office—such ambition is vast; it is not the virtue of retirement. Only when one is in the above yet has the heart of the below, like my supervisor the Viceroy, can one truly be a person who achieves both? You, with fifteen generations of noble lineage and forty years of outstanding merits, when you held the brush in the imperial court, entered the Golden Horse Gate, opened the Qujiang pavilion, and wore the robes of the palace—while colleagues competed to rise to the heavens and clash with crimson chariots, you, having just joined the court, already thought of your hometown. Fuzhou has the aspiration for seclusion, Meihu has many scholars who teach the classics. Resting on the grass for six years, leisurely for ten springs, willingly making Deng Yu laugh at others, not learning from Zuan Sun’s pursuit of records—this book shows your clear purpose. Later, you served as a prefect, then a viceroy, governing in Goudu and stationed in Zhanggong. You dredged the lake and made the three rivers fertile, and when the golden belt was removed, the two bowls were peaceful. Nine promotions are expected, and ten thousand stones are nothing to you. Yet, in your petition to resign, you admired the wish of Shuzi to bring rain, and without shame, you joined Anshi’s three calls, with the imperial decree at the door, the phoenix and ostriches chirping, the great bell listening to the law—retiring when it is time and advancing when it is not, this is what the ancients hoped for, and this book shows your great talent. Later, the emperor looked south to Guigui, seeking loyal ministers, giving you the territory and the ceremonial axe. Thus, for five years in Xiangzhou and half a year in Xutai, you promoted the way and brought peace, your achievements as great as those of Fu Bo in the rice fields. Training soldiers in jars and bottles, fighting on warships, in the morning you knew Li Sheng as a great minister, and people called you Du Shi as a mother. Yet you, in a small boat carrying stones, threw incense into the high gorges, leaving a piece of writing to swear by the tomb, and planted longevity chrysanthemums along the three paths—this book shows your courage in taking on responsibilities and your ease in holding office. Now, you enjoy the forest and springs, and your writings are as numerous as your body. Following the example of the Tang people’s Fujian Book and the Song’s Biye, you delve into the hundred schools and plunder one, expounding loyalty and integrity, summarizing the elders. Small things are enough to correct the sayings of Xiaochang, to supplement Hua Tuo’s books, truly capable of guiding the world’s customs and benefiting all. Your contributions are clearly seen in this, leaving behind a legacy in the arts, benefiting future scholars. This book is a subordinate of Han and Fan, following the footsteps of Su Ji and Shi, entrusting you with proofreading and publishing. I hope the name mountain will grow richer, and the spring breeze will last longer, so that one day, while sitting under the bamboo pavilion, you can personally receive the continuation of your theories. Is this book the first stroke of Rongqi, the chronicle of the Xianhua? In the twelfth month of the twenty-fifth year of Daoguang, the disciple Xu Dun of Rinyue respectfully writes this preface.