Statue of Fan Zhongyan in an Artistic Style

Statue of Fan Zhongyan in an Artistic Style

In the mild spring of March, Fengcheng (Phoenix City) Taizhou resembles a city floating on water, emerging wet and glistening from the intricate network of rivers where the "three waters" — river, sea, and canal — converge.

The water flows freely yet with restraint, spreading out majestically. The canals have clearly weathered much, stretching from the northern Jiangsu plains toward the sea. The water before one’s eyes is crystal clear and pure, as if it were the lingering mist of last night or the morning dew just beginning to form, exuding the fresh scent of water. On the islands, clusters of peach blossoms bloom in vibrant pink; along the banks, green bamboo groves, golden rapeseed fields, white walls, dark-tiled roofs, gray stone bridges, and the grand brownish-yellow Wanghai Tower... The reflections in the long river create a colorful tapestry. The boundless beauty of the Fengcheng River Scenic Area before one’s eyes is like a youthful lad — full of vigor, without a trace of weariness, and perfect without any flaw or damage.

Is this really the ancient city of Taizhou?

Yet there he stands, on the Wen Zheng Square in front of the "Wenhui Hall," clad in a simple robe with wide sleeves, his brow furrowed and expression stern. His robe is dampened by the heavy mist, the folds hiding unspeakable sorrow, and his fluttering sleeves are as heavy as lead. His chiseled, statue-like facial contours are embedded in a rough bronze mold, faintly revealing his gaunt and solemn demeanor; his beard and hair flow elegantly, calm and composed. Like an old historical scroll, it has grown blurred over the long years.

The artistic statue of Fan Zhongyan was designed and created by Wu Weishan, Dean of the China Academy of Sculpture, for the restoration of the Fengcheng River Scenic Area.

The ancient city of Taizhou, with a history of over 2,000 years, has been recorded and celebrated time and again due to the historical traces left by Fan Zhongyan more than 900 years ago. The various anecdotes of Fan Zhongyan, passed down through historical texts and folklore, have kept the ancient city ever fresh, giving the Fengcheng River Scenic Area in Taizhou a reason for rebirth. By the 21st century, when descendants come to pay homage to Lord Fan Wenzheng, a flood of restored memories and awakened thoughts rushes in the moment they look up at this statue.

By the spring of 2008, this salt supervisor of Taizhou from the mid-Northern Song Dynasty, Fan Zhongyan, finally reappeared in the place where he once served, returning to the familiar Wenhui Hall where he reunited with his five close friends, including Teng Zijing, to compose poetry and essays. Then, he walked out of the hall alone, standing tall by the water, lost in thought. The statue faces a huge rock inscribed with the timeless famous line personally written by the late Mr. Ji Xianlin: “Be the first to worry about the world’s troubles and the last to enjoy its pleasures.” Now, Fan Zhongyan gazes daily at his own lifelong maxim, reciting it over and over and revisiting the political ideals of his youth, looking out at the receding official career, the people, and the flowing waters — a mix of sorrow and joy, a whirlwind of emotions.

Fan Zhongyan, a renowned and outstanding reformer of the Northern Song Dynasty, possessed talents in politics, military affairs, and literature, and rose to the rank of prime minister. However, his career was fraught with setbacks. He was demoted three times for daring to speak bluntly and offer candid advice. He left behind many famous works and verses, with the “Record of Yueyang Tower” enduring to this day. His life achievements and literary accomplishments — Taizhou was once a starting point.

A young yet aged voice chants: “A gentleman does not rejoice alone...”

The phrase “A gentleman does not rejoice alone” comes from Fan Zhongyan’s “Ode to the Wenhui Hall of Teng the Official from Hai Ling,” written for the “Wenhui Hall” in Taizhou. During the mid-Northern Song Dynasty, the economy and culture flourished. At that time, Taizhou’s salt tax accounted for half of the nation’s total. Talents from all over gathered here, and literati bonded over poetry, composing verses together. This five-character poem is now inscribed in its entirety on the wall of the Wenhui Hall lobby. Among its lines are the famous phrases: “...facing the classics of Confucius and Zhou, playing music with Fuxi and the Yellow Emperor. A gentleman does not rejoice alone, my friends come from afar... Oh, Teng Zijing, your noble intention lingers fragrantly.”

The joy of “not rejoicing alone” and the joy Fan Gong later personally experienced in Yuezhou, when he rebuilt Yueyang Tower for Teng Zijing, who had been “relegated to Baling Prefecture,” writing the line “Be the first to worry about the world’s troubles and the last to enjoy its pleasures,” are 23 years apart. Yet between these two “joys,” one can faintly trace Fan Zhongyan’s clear and unwavering ideological path throughout his life — as an official, never seeking personal pleasure; as a gentleman, worrying about the world before enjoying it.

Historical records state that before 985 AD, Fan Zhongyan, a native of Wuxian County in Jiangsu, passed the imperial examination and was appointed as an external official, arriving in Taizhou as a salt officer.

Ancient Taizhou was once coastal, a highland by the sea, and the earliest salt-producing city on the coast, historically known as Hailing Commandery. Due to erosion by ocean waves, the seawall, known as the “Sea-Dyke,” had fallen into disrepair for years. Floods destroyed fertile farmland and threatened people's livelihoods. Fan Zhongyan inspected the conditions and was deeply troubled. With the support of his superior, he repeatedly petitioned the court, speaking earnestly and advocating strongly for the repair of the dyke. Teng Zijing, the Taizhou circuit intendant, also offered strong assistance. After repeated efforts, approval was finally granted for Fan Zhongyan to oversee the repairs. Leading the people through great hardships, Fan Gong finally restored this massive seawall that started in Hailing (Taizhou) and ended in Yancheng. “Three thousand six hundred households were able to resume their livelihoods, and the people enjoyed the benefits.” To commemorate Fan Zhongyan, the Taizhou people called this sturdy and solid seawall “Fan Gong Dyke.” To this day, a section of the ancient dyke still remains.

The people enjoyed the benefits, rejoiced together with the people; the people are the foundation of the state — only then did Fan Zhongyan find his joy.

Fan Zhongyan’s joy stemmed from an innate sense of concern deep within — he advocated “not to be pleased by material gains, nor saddened by personal losses.” Though holding high office and great status, he lived frugally. Even after becoming “Canshi Zhengshi” (vice chancellor), he “did not eat multiple meats” (refused to have two meat dishes at a meal). He used his extra salary to establish “charitable estates” to help the poor during natural disasters and famines. He promoted education to enable commoners’ children to study. Taizhou once built the “Jingfan School” to commemorate Fan Zhongyan’s uncorrupted integrity.

In his middle age, Fan Zhongyan enjoyed a smooth official career, serving successively as Right Remonstrance Official (responsible for candid advice to the emperor), Assistant Director of the Ministry of Personnel (in charge of personnel allocation, equivalent to today’s Organization Department), Vice Director of the Privy Council (deputy head of the central military agency), Dragon Graph Pavilion Academician, and co-Supreme Commander of Shaanxi with Han Qi, defending the borders for many years. He also served as prefect or governor in various regions. During this period, because he advocated reforms to the old systems of governance and promoted the “Qingli New Policies,” he was attacked and marginalized by the conservative aristocratic factions of the Song ruling class. As a representative figure of Neo-Confucianism in the Song Dynasty, he opposed the effeminate and deceptive literary styles and customs of the time, and was a pioneer of the literary reform movement. Today, Fan Zhongyan’s lesser-known but powerful saying: “Better to speak out and die than remain silent and live” — eight words that could be called a manifesto for the fight for free speech — actually preceded the famous words of Henry Patrick by over 700 years: “Give me liberty, or give me death.”

However, the moderate reformism of Neo-Confucianism, which emerged from within the “mainstream ideology,” was still intolerable to the feudal autocracy of the East. Fan Zhongyan, the renowned prime minister of the Northern Song Dynasty, was demoted to Dengzhou after the tragic failure of the Qingli New Policies. In 1052, on his way to Yingzhou, he fell ill and died in a foreign land. His lifelong political aspirations came to an abrupt end.

Born in adversity, died in comfort — when Fan Zhongyan reached the end of his life, he still had not realized the gentleman-official’s dream of “being the last to enjoy the world’s pleasures.”

Now, clad in a simple robe with wide sleeves, he stands solemnly by the Fengcheng River, returning from the end to the beginning. A breeze rustles through the leaves of the “Five Ministers’ Tree,” and the sound of the wind seems to carry his sigh to the heavens: A gentleman does not rejoice alone, a gentleman worries alone.

The joy of others — a gentleman can only enjoy eternal solitude.

Taizhou has no mountains — a land without mountains, a city without mountains. Yet, the culturally rich Taizhou over 2,000 years, whether passing through or residing here; born or dying here — the historical figures are like overlapping mountain ranges undulating endlessly. Fan Zhongyan is just one peak among them. He passed by, he left, he returned. Since then, he has stayed here, transformed into a simple, unadorned bronze statue, yet like a solitary peak rising abruptly — in this mountain-less city of Taizhou, he commands awe and respect.

On the night before leaving Taizhou, I sat casually with pen meeting friends in the Chinese-style waterside pavilion of Yuzhuang Garden. Suddenly, I heard the soft sound of a zither behind me, rippling like the gentle flow of the Fengcheng River. I saw eight or nine middle-aged and elderly women in red, playing the guzheng together on the pavilion by the water. The lights were dim, smiles warm, and the atmosphere joyful. I couldn’t help but feel a sudden warmth and awe: What a place where a gentleman does not rejoice alone — this peaceful and prosperous land, this state of national peace and people’s happiness, seemed to echo the charm of this ancient poetic line. The current restoration of the Fengcheng River Scenic Area, with the foresight and magnanimity of Teng Zijing who rebuilt Yueyang Tower back then, has repaired and integrated the nearly lost historical relics into a cultural corridor; it has collected and preserved fragmented historical memories, carefully placing them in this open cultural garden to be shared with the people of Taizhou and visitors from around the world. Isn’t that a joy?

A gentleman does not rejoice alone — perhaps the hidden Fan Gong in the night shadows of the Wenzheng Square can finally share a quiet joy, rejoicing with the people.