樂書

The Grand Historian says: Whenever I read the Documents of Yu and reach the passage where ruler and minister admonish each other — 'only by vigilance is there peace' — and where, if the limbs of state are not good, all affairs crumble and decay, I never fail to weep. When King Cheng composed the Hymns, examining himself and learning from past suffering, grieving over the troubles of his house — can this not be called fearful and trembling, guarding well and ending well? The gentleman who does not grow lax under constraint cultivates virtue; the one who does not discard rites when sated, who in leisure can recall the beginning, who in security can keep the origin in mind, who bathes in abundance yet sings of hardship — who but a person of great virtue could do this! The tradition says: 'When governance is settled and achievements are complete, rites and music arise.' As the Way of humankind deepens within the seas and virtue reaches its fullest expression, the forms of enjoyment become increasingly refined. If fullness is not diminished, it overflows; if surplus is not steadied, it collapses. All music-making exists to regulate pleasure. The gentleman takes modesty and deference as ritual propriety and takes reduction as the essence of music — this is what music is about. Since regions differ and states vary, with different temperaments and customs, the practice is to broadly collect folk ways, harmonize and compare their melodies with the standard pitch-pipes, to remedy shortcomings, shift customs, and help disseminate governance and instruction. The Son of Heaven presides in person at the Hall of Light, and the myriad people are cleansed of all defilement, steeped to fullness, and their natures are refined. Thus when the sounds of the Ya and Song odes are well ordered, the people become upright; when stirring martial cries arise, the warriors are roused; when the tunes of Zheng and Wei play, the heart turns to licentiousness. When music achieves harmony and concord, even birds and beasts are moved — how much more so human beings, who carry within them the five constant virtues and the capacity for like and dislike! This is simply the way of nature.

As the Way of governance deteriorated, the music of Zheng rose in its place. Enfeoffed lords and hereditary rulers, famous across neighboring provinces, competed to outdo one another. Confucius himself could not prevent the Qi entertainers from corrupting the court of Lu. Though he withdrew to correct the music and guide the age, composing five chapters to satirize the times, no one was transformed. The decline continued through the Six States era, drifting and sinking into license, proceeding without return, until it ended in the destruction of their persons and the extinction of their ancestral lines, as their states were absorbed by Qin.

The Second Emperor of Qin was especially devoted to amusement. Chancellor Li Si remonstrated: 'To cast aside the Odes and Documents and indulge to the limit in sensual pleasures — this is what made Zu Yi tremble with fear. To make light of accumulating minor faults and give free rein to the heart through long nights — this is why King Zhou perished.' Zhao Gao countered: 'The music of the Five Emperors and Three Kings each had different names, showing that they did not copy from one another. From the court above to the people below, all should be able to share in joy and express devotion. Without this, harmony and goodwill do not circulate, and generosity does not flow. Each age has its own culture, each era its own music. Why insist on the fabled steeds of Mount Hua before traveling far?' The Second Emperor agreed with Zhao Gao.

When Emperor Gaozu passed through Pei, he composed the verse of the Three Marquises and had the local boys sing it. After Gaozu's death, the people of Pei were permitted to sing at the ancestral temple in all four seasons. Emperors Hui, Wen, and Jing made no additions or changes; the Music Bureau simply rehearsed and practiced the old repertoire.

When the current emperor took the throne, he composed the Nineteen Hymns and ordered the Palace Attendant Li Yannian to arrange their musical settings, appointing him Colonel for Harmonizing Pitches. No scholar versed in a single classic could comprehend the lyrics alone; they had to assemble experts in all Five Classics to study and read together before the meaning could be grasped, so rich was the text in archaic Erya-style language.

The Han court regularly performs a sacrifice to the Grand Unity at Ganquan on the first xin-day of the first month, beginning at dusk with a nighttime ceremony that continues until dawn. Shooting stars are regularly seen passing over the sacrificial altar. Seventy boys and girls sing together. In spring they sing 'Green Brightness'; in summer, 'Vermilion Radiance'; in autumn, 'Western Dusk'; in winter, 'Dark Mystery.' These songs are widely available and need not be discussed here.

Once a divine horse was obtained from the waters of Wowa, and a song to the Grand Unity was composed for the occasion. The lyrics say: 'The Grand Unity presents his tribute — a heavenly horse descends! Drenched in red sweat, its foam runs russet. Galloping at ease, it leaps ten thousand li. What now is its match? Only the dragon is its friend.' Later, after the campaign against Dayuan, a horse capable of a thousand li per day was obtained, named Pushao, and another song was composed. The lyrics say: 'The heavenly horse comes from the far west! Traveling ten thousand li, it returns to the virtuous. Bearing divine power, it descends upon foreign lands. Crossing the flowing sands, the four barbarian peoples submit.' The Palace Commandant Ji An protested: 'When a king composes music, it should serve the ancestors above and transform the myriad people below. Now Your Majesty obtains a horse and turns it into a song for the ancestral temple — could the former emperors or the common people possibly understand such music?' The emperor sat in silence, displeased. Chancellor Gongsun Hong said: 'Ji An slanders the sacred institutions. He should be executed along with his entire clan.'

All sound arises from the human heart. The stirring of the human heart is caused by external things. Stirred by things, the heart moves, and this takes shape as sound. When sounds respond to each other, they produce variations. When variations form patterns, they are called music-tones. When tones are arranged for enjoyment and combined with shields, axes, plumes, and pennants, this is called music. Music is what arises from tones, and its root lies in the human heart being moved by things. Thus when the heart is stirred by grief, the sound is sharp and fading. When stirred by joy, the sound is broad and slow. When stirred by delight, the sound is bright and scattered. When stirred by anger, the sound is rough and fierce. When stirred by reverence, the sound is straight and clear. When stirred by love, the sound is gentle and soft. These six are not innate dispositions but responses to being moved by things. For this reason the former kings were careful about what moved the heart. Rites guide the will; music harmonizes the voice; government unifies conduct; punishments prevent wrongdoing. Rites, music, punishments, and government all reach toward the same goal: to unify the hearts of the people and to bring forth the Way of governance.

All sound is born from the human heart. When emotion stirs within, it takes shape as sound. When sound achieves pattern, it is called music-tone. The music of a well-governed age is peaceful and joyful — its governance is harmonious. The music of a disordered age is resentful and angry — its governance is perverse. The music of a doomed state is mournful and brooding — its people are in distress. The Way of sound and music connects directly to governance. The gong pitch represents the ruler; the shang pitch, the minister; the jue pitch, the people; the zhi pitch, affairs; the yu pitch, resources. When these five are not confused, there is no discordant sound. If gong is disordered, the sound is dissolute — the ruler is arrogant. If shang is disordered, the sound is deviant — the ministers are corrupt. If jue is disordered, the sound is anxious — the people are resentful. If zhi is disordered, the sound is mournful — public affairs are overburdened. If yu is disordered, the sound is precarious — resources are depleted. If all five are disordered, each encroaching on the others, this is called disintegration. When this happens, the destruction of the state is imminent. The music of Zheng and Wei is the music of a disordered age — it approaches disintegration. The music of Sangian and the banks of the Pu is the music of a doomed state: its governance is scattered, its people drift, they deceive their superiors and pursue private interests, and nothing can stop them.

Music creates unity; rites create distinction. Unity leads to mutual affection; distinction leads to mutual respect. If music predominates, there is dissolution; if rites predominate, there is alienation. To join feeling with an ordered appearance — this is the work of rites and music together. When rites and duty are established, noble and base find their proper grade. When the civilizing power of music creates unity, high and low are in harmony. When likes and dislikes are clearly expressed, the worthy and the unworthy are distinguished. When punishments restrain the violent and ranks elevate the worthy, governance is equitable. Humanity gives love; duty gives rectitude. When this is so, the people's conduct is well ordered.

Music emerges from within; rites are fashioned from without. Because music emerges from within, it is tranquil. Because rites are fashioned from without, they are patterned. The greatest music is necessarily simple; the greatest rites are necessarily plain. When music reaches its fullness, there is no resentment; when rites reach their fullness, there is no contention. To govern all under Heaven through bowing and yielding — this is what rites and music accomplish. When violent people do not arise, when feudal lords serve as loyal guests, when weapons are not tested, when the five punishments are not applied, when the common people are free from worry, and when the Son of Heaven has no cause for anger — then music has achieved its purpose. When the bonds of father and son are united, when the order of elder and younger is clear, and when respect pervades the four seas — then the Son of Heaven has made rites a reality.

The greatest music shares harmony with Heaven and Earth; the greatest rites share rhythm with Heaven and Earth. Through harmony, the hundred things are not lost; through rhythm, sacrifices to Heaven and Earth are made. In the visible realm there are rites and music; in the invisible realm there are spirits and gods. When this is so, the four seas are united in reverence and joined in love.

Marquis Wen of Wei asked Zixia: "When I put on my formal cap and robes and listen to the ancient music, I can barely keep from falling asleep. But when I listen to the tunes of Zheng and Wei, I never grow tired. May I ask: why is the ancient music like that, and the new music like this?"

Zixia answered: "In the ancient music, the performers advance together and retire together. The sound is harmonious, correct, and expansive. Strings, gourds, mouth-organs, and reed-pipes all keep time with the hand-drum. The piece begins with the civil movement and ends with the martial finale. It is governed by the wooden clapper and paced by the ya measure. The gentleman uses the occasion to converse, to speak of the past, to cultivate his person, to order his household, and to bring equity to all under Heaven. This is what ancient music expresses. In the new music, the performers bob forward and bow backward. The sounds are seductive and licentious, drowning the listener without end. Jesters and dwarfs mix with men and women who no longer know the distinction between father and son. When the music ends, nothing can be discussed, nothing of the past can be spoken of. This is what the new music expresses. What you have asked about is true music; what you actually enjoy is mere sound. Music and sound are close to each other but not the same."

In the time of Duke Ling of Wei, when he was traveling to Jin, he lodged by the Pu River. At midnight he heard the sound of a zither being played. He asked his attendants, and all said they heard nothing. He summoned his music master Shi Juan and said: "I hear zither music. I asked my attendants and none of them heard it. It seems to be the work of spirits. Listen and transcribe it for me." Shi Juan said: "Very well." He sat upright, took up his zither, and listened and transcribed. The next day he said: "I have it, but I have not yet practiced. Allow me one more night to rehearse." Duke Ling said: "You may." They stayed another night. The next day Shi Juan reported: "I have mastered it." They then proceeded to Jin and were received by Duke Ping of Jin, who gave a banquet at the Terrace of Bestowed Favor. When the wine was flowing freely, Duke Ling said: "On my journey here I heard a new piece. Please allow it to be performed." Duke Ping said: "By all means." Shi Juan was seated beside Music Master Kuang and began to play. Before he finished, Master Kuang pressed his hand down to stop him and said: "This is the sound of a doomed state. You must not continue." Duke Ping asked: "Where does it come from?" Master Kuang said: "It was composed by Music Master Yan. He created dissolute music for King Zhou of Shang. When King Wu conquered Zhou, Master Yan fled east and threw himself into the Pu River. Therefore this music can only be heard above the Pu River. The first to hear it will see his state diminished." Duke Ping said: "What I love is music. Let me hear it to the end." Shi Juan played to the finish.

Duke Ping asked: "Is there any music sadder than this?" Master Kuang said: "There is." Duke Ping asked: "May I hear it?" Master Kuang said: "Your virtue is too thin. You should not listen to it." Duke Ping said: "What I love is music. Let me hear it." Master Kuang had no choice. He took up his zither and played. At the first strain, sixteen black cranes gathered at the corridor gate. At the second strain, they stretched their necks and cried, spread their wings and danced.

Duke Ping was overjoyed. He rose and toasted Master Kuang. Returning to his seat, he asked: "Is there any music sadder than this?" Master Kuang said: "There is. In ancient times the Yellow Emperor used it in the great assembly of spirits and gods. But your virtue is too thin — you are not worthy to hear it. If you hear it, there will be calamity." Duke Ping said: "I am old now. What I love is music. Let me hear it." Master Kuang had no choice. He took up his zither and played. At the first strain, white clouds rose from the northwest. At the second strain, a great wind arrived and rain followed it, blowing tiles from the corridors as the attendants fled in all directions. Duke Ping cowered in terror between the corridor buildings. The state of Jin suffered a great drought, and the earth was scorched bare for three years.

What one hears may bring fortune or disaster. Music must not be recklessly performed.

The Grand Historian says: When the enlightened kings of high antiquity employed music, it was not for amusement and self-indulgence, not to gratify desire. Their purpose was governance. All correct instruction begins with sound: when sound is correct, conduct becomes correct. Music stirs the blood, circulates the vital spirit, and harmonizes the heart. The gong pitch activates the spleen and harmonizes sagacity; the shang pitch activates the lungs and harmonizes duty; the jue pitch activates the liver and harmonizes humanity; the zhi pitch activates the heart and harmonizes propriety; the yu pitch activates the kidneys and harmonizes wisdom. Thus music internally supports the rectification of the heart and externally distinguishes noble from base. Above it serves the ancestral temple; below it transforms the common people. The zither is eight feet and one inch long — this is the standard measure. The thickest string is gong, placed in the center — representing the ruler. Shang is strung to its right, and the rest follow in order of thickness. When they do not lose their proper sequence, the positions of ruler and minister are correct. Hearing the gong tone makes a person warm, open, and magnanimous. Hearing shang makes a person upright and devoted to duty. Hearing jue makes a person compassionate and caring. Hearing zhi makes a person delighted in goodness and inclined to give. Hearing yu makes a person orderly and devoted to propriety. Rites enter from without; music emerges from within. The gentleman must never be separated from rites even for an instant — to be separated from rites for an instant is to expose oneself to brutal and disrespectful conduct. He must never be separated from music even for an instant — to be separated from music for an instant is to expose oneself to treacherous and deviant behavior. Music is what the gentleman uses to nourish duty. In ancient times, the Son of Heaven and the feudal lords never left the sound of bells and chime-stones absent from their courtyards; ministers and grand masters never left the sound of zither and lute absent from before them. This nourished righteous conduct and guarded against license. License is born of the absence of rites. Therefore the sage kings ensured that people's ears heard the sounds of the Ya and Song odes, their eyes saw the ceremonies of dignified propriety, their feet walked in the postures of respect, and their mouths spoke the words of humanity and duty. Thus the gentleman could speak all day long, and depravity had no way in.

The rise of music lies in restraining desire. It molds the heart and frees the will; the hands dance and the feet stamp. Shun spoke of the Xiao and Shao; Zhu Rong spoke of Shu and Xu. Examine the music and know the governance; observe the customs and transform the folkways. Measured like threaded pearls, clear as the striking of jade. Abundant and full to the ear — the strains of the Xian and Ying still echo.