This name was something I stumbled upon by chance when I was idly paging through some idioms-and-allusions dictionary in my senior year of high school. I thought then that I could use it someday as the name of my study; since I still don’t actually have a study, I’ve made do with using it for my blog for now.
First, without even looking at the allusion, just at the words themselves, the name is already quite apt: the first character, “随,” really suits my personality—casual, arbitrary, easygoing, spontaneous, following my heart, and so on; the second character, “轩,” in one sense means “a long corridor or small room with windows (often used as the name of a teahouse, wine shop, or study).” By comparison, the definition of “斋” is “a house (commonly used as the name of a study, shop, school dormitory, etc.),” so you can see that 轩 carries with it additional overtones of “with windows,” “corridor,” “small room,” “teahouse,” and so forth. Compared with “斋,” which might make one think of Rongbaozhai or of fasting and Buddhist devotion, the second sense of “轩” is also excellent: “an ancient kind of covered carriage.” What that suggests is that I don’t want to be shut up in a study with no windows and no air, but would rather have something open and fluid.
So where does the allusion behind “随轩” come from?
From *Book of the Later Han*, juan 33, “The Biography of Zheng Hong”:
“Zheng Hong, styled Jujun, was a man of Shanyin in Kuaiji. His paternal cousin Ji, during Emperor Xuan’s reign, served as Protector of the Western Regions. When Hong was young, he was a local village functionary; the commandery administrator, Diwu Lun, on a spring tour, saw him and recognized his exceptional talent, so he summoned him and appointed him Inspector, and recommended him for filial piety and incorruptibility. Hong studied under Jiao Kuang, the commandery administrator of Hedong in the same commandery. When Liu Ying, King of Chu, plotted rebellion and the plot was discovered, because of a minor connection Jiao Kuang was implicated; Jiao Kuang was arrested, fell ill and died on the road, and his wife and children were confined in the imperial prison and beaten and interrogated for years. Fellow students and old friends feared they too would be dragged into it all, and all changed their names and fled to avoid disaster. Hong alone shaved his head, carried the axe and death block, went to the palace gate and submitted a memorial pleading for Jiao Kuang’s innocence. The Emperor Xianzong woke to the matter and immediately pardoned Jiao Kuang’s family. Hong personally escorted Jiao Kuang’s coffin, along with his wife and children, back to their hometown, and from this he became famous. He was appointed magistrate of Zou; his administration was benevolent and compassionate, and the people praised the relief he brought. He was later transferred to be Commandery Administrator of Huaiyang.” Tang Li Xian’s annotation quotes Xie Cheng’s *Book of the Later Han*: “Hong lightened corvée and taxes, and his government was free of harshness. When he toured in spring, there was drought, and rain came in response to his carriage.”
The cognate expressions of the idiom “rain comes in response to the carriage” include “auspicious rain following the carriage,” “sweet rain from one carriage,” and “随轩,” and so on. In other words, these two characters, “随轩,” even hide within them a character for “rain”! “Carriage rain” means timely rain—that is, the sense of “sweet dew” represented by the “霖” in my name.
Although I am one of those people for whom nine out of ten apertures are open but one still remains blocked when it comes to classical poetry, and although this has little to do with my original intention in choosing the name, I’ll still end by digging up a few poems containing the two characters “随轩” and appending them here…
【Praying for Rain in Chenzhou】Han Yu
The maiden’s soul begs for rain; the sacrificial delicacies are pure and plentiful.
The temple opens, and flying squirrels cry; the god descends, speaking in Yue shamans’ tongues.
The drought’s vapors are expected to disperse; the yin officials are thought to rush in swift pursuit.
Already I see the five-horse carriage enter; bleak and rustling, it follows the carriage.
【Autumn Morning with Magistrate Mao of Zichuan, Nine Autumn Verses, No. 1: Autumn Waters】Luo Binwang
Cold currents pierce the shell-palace; the autumn waves of the jade wheel are clear.
Cloud patterns are painted in pure brocade colors; moonlight is written in the bright blossoms of fine silk.
On the winding stream the k’un-stringed zither stirs; following the carriage, the phoenix chariot-axles startle.
Only upon the imperial ditch can one send off the feeling of returning, in a chill that cuts to the bone.
【Seeing Inspector Yan Return to the Capital】Li Zhong
I envy you riding on the purple edict, your homeward road pointing straight to the ford.
You beat the oar through mist and waves, the rain and dew of the returning capital fresh and new.
At dawn you hasten toward court, within the vermilion禁 of the palace;
Spring lifts the reins over the nine thoroughfares. I, ashamed and sunk in obscurity, have had no cause to follow the carriage.
Latest Comments
Qixuan 2005-12-09 23:27:03
What a splendid case of nine out of ten apertures being open
unic 2007-02-06 17:09:40 Anonymous 222.82.78.24
]It’s Han Yu and Luo Binwang again…
I never expected this “随轩” to be so formidable…
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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