Comprehensive Reflections to Aid in Governance
By Sima Guang
Translated By Yiming Yang
Annals of Han Book 10 Scroll 18 (continued)

The 2nd year of Emperor Wu’s Yuan’shuo Era (127 B.C. continued)
Among those relocated to Maoling was Guo Xie of Zhi County, a man known for his chivalrous bearing. When his name appeared among the households selected for relocation, General Wei Qing memorialized the Emperor, saying, “Guo Xie’s family is impoverished and does not meet the criteria for resettlement.”
The Emperor replied, “Guo Xie is but a commoner. If he holds such sway that a general pleads on his behalf, then he is certainly not destitute.” Thus, the relocation proceeded.
Guo Xie was notorious throughout his life for numerous killings under the guise of vengeance, often over the slightest offense, even a glance perceived as disrespectful. When the Emperor was informed of his past deeds, he ordered an investigation. The findings revealed that most of Guo Xie’s crimes had been committed prior to the issuance of a general amnesty.
In Zhi County, a Confucianist, serving as an assistant to a court-appointed investigator, overheard a guest speaking in praise of Guo Xie. The scholar remarked, “Guo Xie defies state law with impunity. How can such a man be deemed virtuous?” Words of these reached Guo Xie’s retainers. One among them murdered the scholar and cut out his tongue. When officials questioned Guo Xie, it became clear he had no knowledge of the assailant’s identity. The killer was never found.
The local authorities concluded that Guo Xie bore no direct culpability. However, Gongsun Hong submitted the following memorial: “Guo Xie, though a commoner, has long assumed the role of a self-styled hero, committing countless acts of violence. Even if he is uninvolved in this particular crime, his past conduct reflects a spirit of lawlessness and contempt for royal authority. Such behavior must be treated as rebellion.”
The court concurred. Guo Xie and his entire household were executed.
Ban Gu‘s Commentary:
In high antiquity, the Son of Heaven established dominion, and the feudal lords founded their noble houses. Ministers and officials, commoners and artisans, each abided within their prescribed stations. Thus, the lower served the higher with deference; none transgressed the bounds of station, nor coveted what was above.
As the Zhou house declined, the rites and music fell into disuse, and war was waged not by kings but by vassals. After the ascendancy of Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin, power passed into the hands of noble clans for generations, and authority came to be wielded by ministers. Disorder took root; the realm fractured into Warring States; the states formed leagues or alliances, and the sons of nobles—Lord Xinling of Wei, Lord Pingyuan of Zhao, Lord Mengchang of Qi, and Lord Chunshen of Chu—took advantage of their lineage. They assembled wandering knights and retained clients whose skill included imitating cock crow or stealing like dogs.
The prime minister of Zhao, Yu Qing, forsook his lord and abandoned his state, enduring peril to honor a personal friendship with Wei Qi. Lord Xinling, Prince Wuji, heedless of consequence, stole the military tally, forged decrees, executed the general in command, and took over his forces to rescue Lord Pingyuan in his hour of distress. Their deeds were aimed at courting fame among the feudal states, seeking glory throughout the land. To those who admired chivalric valor and wept in admiration, these four were hailed as paragons.
From this arose a spirit that disdained loyalty to sovereign and state, and took pride instead in sacrificing oneself for private camaraderie. The ancient code of fealty and upright service was cast aside and forgotten.
With the rise of the Han, laws grew lax and controls were loosened. The cavalcade of Chen Xi (the Prime Minister of Dai) had a thousand carriages. Princes such as Liu Pi of Wu and Liu An of Huainan gathered clients numbering in the thousands. Among the imperial kin, the Marquis of Weiqi and the Marquis of Wu’an contended for influence in the capital. Even commoners and drifters like Ju Meng and Guo Xie traversed the land at will, overpowering nobles and winning the awe of the people.
Though subjected to the weight of law, and though many embraced death for renown as once did Ji Lu and Qiu Mu, none showed regret. Thus Zengzi said: “When the ruler strays from the Way, the people are already lost.” If the wise monarch fails to uphold morality and distinguish right from wrong; if rites and laws do not guide customs and conduct—how shall the common folk know thou-shalt-not and return to rectitude?
In ancient reckoning, the Five Hegemons brought ruin to the legacy of the Three Kings, and the Six States were the undoing of the Five Hegemons. These Four Lords must likewise be held culpable for the fall of the Six states.
Consider the conduct of Guo Xie. Though of lowly rank, he wielded power over life and death. His offense defies reckoning. Yet he was not without virtue: in hardship he showed compassion, in victory he remained modest and unboastful. These were men of exceptional endowment. Alas, they failed to cleave to the Way, indulging instead in vulgar ambition. Their downfall and extermination was not due to misfortune—a lamentable fate indeed.
Xun Yue’s Commentary:
There are three kinds of wandering men under Heaven, and all are enemies of virtue. The first are knights-errant, the second are lobbyists-errant, and the third are wannabes-errant.
Those who wield power through intimidation, forge private alliances, and seek dominance through force and favor are called knights-errant. Those who adorn their speech with embellishment, devise stratagems of duplicity, and flit across the land to pursue shifting trends are called lobbyists-errant. Those who feign virtue to gain advantage, form hollow cliques, and construct artificial reputations for their own profit are called wannabes-errant.
These three types are the root of disorder. They injure principle, erode virtue, confound the law, and bring turmoil upon the realm—precisely what the kings of antiquity vigilantly guarded against.
A well-ordered state maintains four classes of people: the gentry, the farmers, the artisans, and the merchants—each devoted to their proper occupation. Those who stray from the labors of these four classes are deemed base and untrustworthy. When such base men do not arise, the Way of benevolent kings flourishes; but when they proliferate, the Hegemonic Way prevails.
These three errant types thrive in the waning days of dynasties. They were rampant in the decline of Zhou and widespread in the fall of Qin. In such times, the high ranks lack clarity, and the lower ranks lack integrity. Institutions fall into disrepair, and norms are cast aside. Reputation is awarded or reviled without investigation, favor and resentment dictate reward and punishment without regard to justice.
When the distinction between noble and base is obscured, chaos ensues. Men tailor their words to the preferences of those before them. Appointments are made not by merit, but by proximity and partisanship. The difference between virtue and vice are erroneously judged by public opinions; reward and punishment are doled out against the intent of the law. In such an age, righteousness no longer yields benefit, nor does moral conduct ensure safety.
Thus, the gentlemen infringe propriety, while the petty men violate the law. They curry favor up and down the ranks, transgressing boundaries and usurping offices. They make a grand display of formality while abandoning substance, vying for immediate gain. They neglect reverence for elders and elevate courtesy for strangers; they lessen familial bonds while extolling friendship; they forsake the cultivation of the self in pursuit of public acclaim; they jettison farming and weaving livelihoods in favor for banquets and splendor.
Their gates are crowded with gift-bearing guests, while inquiries and entreaties spill into the streets. Letters in private outnumber official dispatches, and personal dealings surpass matters of state. Thus the vulgar becomes trendy, and the True Way lies in ruin.
Therefore, when a sage king ascends, he governs the realm with order, aligns the people with their duties, and rectifies the institutions. He distinguishes good from evil by weighing merit and crime, unmoved by empty praise or baseless censure. He listens to words, but judges by deeds; he evaluates reputation through verifiable fact.
Hence, those whose conduct belies their speech are called impostors; those whose character is not as their appearance suggests are deemed hypocrites; those who distort names and reputations are branded slanderers; those who misrepresent the truth are named tricksters. Sham and artifice are not welcomed; slander and deception are not tolerated. The guilty find no refuge, while the innocent live without fear. Thus, bribery and favor lose their place, glib tongues are stilled, spurious argument is extinguished, and false wisdom is purged. While weeding out the diverse polemics of the Hundred Schools, all are brought under the guidance of the sage’s Way—nourished by benevolence and righteousness, adorned with ritual and music. Thereupon, customs are rectified, and civilization flourishes in grandeur.
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