《洞灵真经》

Gengsang Chu was a personal attendant of Laozi and a native of Chen. He understood only part of Laozi’s Dao (the Way), and later lived on Mount Weilei. Those around him who were keen to display their cleverness left him, as did his concubines, who prided themselves on their spotless conduct and benevolence. By contrast, those who seemed clumsy and slow remained by his side, while those who were always busy were sent out on errands. After three years, the area around Mount Weilei had grown prosperous and abundant.

Later, Gengsang Chu traveled through Wu and withdrew to Meng Peak in Piling, where he cultivated the Dao and became an immortal before departing. In later times, Zhang Tianshi Fuguang of the Han dynasty and Zhang Guolao of the Tang dynasty each lived and practiced there in turn. The site came to be known as “Zhanggong Altar, a Blessed Land.” A Dongling Temple was once built there; in the Song dynasty, it was renamed the Palace of Heavenly Blessings and Longevity.

Gengsang Chu wrote a work in nine chapters titled Gengsangzi, also known as Kangcangzi. In the Tang dynasty, he was posthumously honored as the Perfected One of Dongling, and his work was given the title Dongling Perfect Scripture.

Chapter One: The Way in Its Entirety discusses how to understand and preserve the Great Dao. It is the first chapter of the book.

Kangcangzi lived north of Mount Yu for three years. In the region there were no illnesses or disasters, and the crops yielded abundant harvests year after year. The local people spoke among themselves in private: “When Kangcangzi first arrived, we thought he was rather unusual. Now, if we count by the day, the harvest seems insufficient, but if we count by the year, there is still a surplus. Could he be a sage? Why don’t we all worship him as a deity, honoring him as we do the gods of the soil and grain?”

When Kangcangzi heard this, his expression remained troubled. His disciple Yan Chuo, who was by his side, asked him why. Kangcangzi said, “I have heard that a perfected person, one whose virtue and cultivation have reached the highest level, lives in a humble hut while the people go about their lives freely, unaware of where he is headed. Now the people of Mount Yu are privately discussing how to use ritual vessels to make offerings to me. Am I really such a person? That is why, after hearing Lao Dan’s words, I feel deeply uneasy.”

Yan Chuo said, “That is not so. In a shallow pool, a great fish cannot stretch out its body, while small fish such as salamanders and loaches can thrive. On a low hill, a mighty beast has nowhere to hide, while small creatures such as shrews and frogs can make their home there. Respecting the worthy and employing the capable, admiring goodness and pursuing benefit—this has been so since the time of Yao and Shun. How much more so among the people of Mount Yu! You should accept their goodwill, Master.”

Kangcangzi said, “Ah, come and look. Do you understand these two situations? A beast large enough to hold a carriage, once it leaves the forest, falls into a net. A fish large enough to swallow a boat, once it leaves the water, is prey to ants. That is why birds and beasts prefer to dwell high up, while fish and turtles prefer the depths. Those who wish to preserve their bodies and lives should hide as deeply and far from view as possible. Let me tell you: if we trace the roots of the great disorder under Heaven, it began in the age of Yao and Shun. Its effects will continue for a thousand years. After a thousand years, people will surely eat one another.”

Before he had finished speaking, Nan Zirong looked troubled. Sitting on his knees, he edged closer to the side of the mat and said, “I, Chu, have grown old. What should I make my life’s work from now on, so that I may avoid the situation you describe?”

Kangcangzi said, “Preserve your body and guard your life. Do not let your thoughts become confused and unceasing. If you can sustain this for many years, perhaps you will understand these words. But my abilities are limited, and I cannot teach you. Why not go south and pay a visit to my teacher, Lao Dan—that is, Laozi?”

After taking leave of Rong Zhi Shu, Kangcangzi did not abandon worldly life, yet his name became renowned throughout the land, like a dragon’s. Water is naturally clear, but stirred-up mud prevents it from becoming clear. Human nature longs for a long life, but external things disturb it, preventing people from fully enjoying their allotted years. External things are meant to nourish our nature. Yet the deluded people of the world often use their nature to nourish external things, showing that they do not understand what is weighty and what is light. Thus, the Sage’s approach to sounds, colors, and delicacies is this: take what benefits one’s nature and discard what harms it. This is the way to preserve one’s nature.

If ten thousand people all draw their bows at once and shoot a single arrow, the target at which it is aimed will surely be hit. When ten thousand things appear all at once, each may harm life, and life is sure to suffer injury. Therefore, when the Sage deals with the myriad things, he preserves the natural endowment of human beings. When that endowment is preserved, the spirit remains whole. A person whose spirit is whole can understand without thinking and respond aptly without planning. Vital energy shines through inside and out; the will is settled and reaches to Heaven and Earth; and Virtue seems to descend from Heaven. Such a person, even when occupying the high position of emperor, is not arrogant; when living among common people, does not exceed their proper bounds. This is what it means to preserve the Great Dao.

A mind that is balanced and not enticed by external things is clear and still. If clarity and stillness endure, the mind becomes luminous. If that luminosity endures, the mind becomes empty and quiet. Once emptiness and quiet are attained, the Dao can dwell fully in the heart.

When Qin Yi died, Kangcangzi wept for him. An attendant said, “Everyone in the world must die. Why do you weep, Master?” Kangcangzi replied, “Everyone in the world weeps. How could I not?” The attendant then said, “Those who weep must be grieving, yet you show no sign of grief. Why is that?” Kangcangzi said, “…”

Among all the things under Heaven, nothing can make me truly happy. So where could my sorrow come from? All things arise through transformations of water: water transforms into Qi (vital energy), Qi into emptiness, and emptiness into the Dao (the Way). Emptiness is the Dao’s substance; stillness and purity are its foundation; order is its guiding principle; and understanding is its essential point.

The Dao becomes manifest through Qi. Qi transforms into emptiness, and emptiness transforms into the Dao. Emptiness is the Dao’s substance; stillness and purity are its foundation; order is its guiding principle; and understanding is its essential point. The Dao preserves the spirit; De (Virtue/Power) expands one’s capacity; ritual regulates ceremony; and external things nourish the body.

Those who love white things see black as soiled; those who love black things, in turn, see white as soiled. How can I know which of the things under Heaven called clean or dirty is truly right? So I no longer impose distinctions of clean and dirty upon things. Someone with blurred vision may see yellow as red and blue-green as black. How can I know that others do not see the black and white I speak of as red and yellow? How can I know what the proper colors under Heaven truly are? So I no longer cling to distinctions among the colors of things.

Those who are excessively fond of wealth can see nothing else as lovable. Those who are excessively fond of horses can see nothing else as lovable. Those who are excessively fond of books, too, can see nothing else as lovable. How can I know what under Heaven deserves affection and what should be hated? So I no longer claim that any external thing is worth hoarding or cherishing, nor do I let external things disturb my spirit.

Lord Chen Huai sent a high official to Lu to pray and conduct a diplomatic visit. In private, Shu Sun Qing asked him, “Do you know that our state has a sage?” The Chen official asked, “How can you know for certain that he is a sage?” Shu Sun Qing said, “He can set aside the distinctions of the mind and perceive things through the body alone.” The Chen official said, “Although our state is small, we too have a sage, though he is unlike the one you have heard about.” Shu Sun Qing asked, “Who is this sage?” The Chen official replied, “There is a man named Kangcangzi who has deeply grasped the Dao of Lao Dan. He can see with his ears and hear with his eyes.”

When Duke Ding of Lu heard this, he was astonished. He sent Shu Sun’s clan back to Chen to invite Kangcangzi to come, and received him with the courtesies due to a senior minister. When Kangcangzi arrived, he was lodged in a guesthouse beside the inner quarters.

Lu Gong respectfully asked Kang Cangzi for guidance. Kang Cangzi said, “I can hear and see without relying on my ears and eyes. But that does not mean I can alter the functions ears and eyes naturally have. The person who relayed this to you got it wrong.”

Lu Gong said, “That you possess such abilities astonishes me. How do they work? I truly would like to hear you explain.”

Kang Cangzi said, “My body is joined with my mind, my mind with Qi (vital energy), Qi with spirit, and spirit with the unbounded. Any movement, however slight, or any sound, however faint, whether it comes from the farthest reaches of the eight directions or from right before my eyes, is fully known to me as soon as it reaches me. But this does not depend on the perceptions of my seven apertures or my hands and feet, nor on the awareness of my six bowels, five viscera, or thoughts. Those can each perceive only within their own limits.”

Chapter Two, Using the Dao (the Way): The second chapter of the work as a whole. Its title means “explaining how to put the Dao into practice.”

Heaven cannot be trusted completely, nor can Earth; people cannot be trusted completely, nor can one’s own heart. Only the Dao (the Way, the fundamental principle of following nature and the underlying order of things) can be relied upon. How could wise rulers and outstanding people be easy to see through?

In ancient times, Jie of the Xia dynasty believed Heaven would grant the realm to his ancestors and to him, so he made no effort to cultivate the Dao. Later, Heaven took his state away and gave it to the Shang. Zhou of the Shang dynasty also believed Heaven would grant the realm to his ancestors and to him, so he did not personally put the Dao into practice. Later, Heaven took his state away and gave it to the Zhou dynasty.

Today, some idle farmers believe the land will naturally grow the grains, but refuse to work diligently according to the seasons and principles of farming. As a result, the land yields no harvest and the fields lie fallow. The ruler of Qi believed that human nature naturally understands deference, but failed to grasp the principle behind it. He handed his entire state to another man, who then acted against what was right and took possession of the realm.

When ordinary people fail to cultivate the Dao and simply follow their own inclinations, making their hearts their teachers and letting their desires grow unchecked, misfortune and illness follow one after another, harming the body and shortening life. The source of these harms is precisely the heart. That is why it is said that only the Dao can be relied upon.

If Heaven and Earth do not accord with the Dao, they cannot endure. If the people are not governed by virtuous and worthy rulers, they cannot live in peace and prosperity. If affairs of state are not managed by capable people, they cannot be harmonious and well ordered. Those who put the Dao into practice do not display their own accomplishments, yet bring benefit to all things. The credit belongs to all things; they do not claim it for themselves. Thus the spirit is harmonized, undertakings flourish, and blessings endure.

To know things and distinguish among them is called “understanding”; to know things without making distinctions is called “the Dao.” Understanding is used to govern people; the Dao is used to bring them to rest.

Rising at cockcrow, working beneath the sun, sweating over the fields, and resting only briefly late at night: this is the farmer’s way. Bending down to gather, looking up to search, calculating every detail, and striving to make a profit: this is the merchant’s way. Regulating the breath and nourishing the spirit, quieting the mind and reducing worries, living at ease beyond the ways of the world, and refining the essence of the sun in pursuit of immortality: this is the practice of the elevated adept. Restraining desire and concentrating the mind, devoting all one’s effort to official duties, planning repeatedly and sacrificing sleep to achieve results and secure a position: this is the minister’s responsibility. Quieting the mind and reducing stray thoughts, observing those close at hand, and working to find worthy people in order to bring stability to the people: this is the ruler’s responsibility.

By extension, when everyone follows their own aims and fulfills their proper role without neglecting their duties, the world is said to have the Dao. Guiding the movement of the sinews and bones can preserve the body; cutting away desire can preserve the spirit; speaking with care can preserve good fortune. One who achieves these three forms of preservation may be called clear-sighted and wise.

When Dao and De flourish, the spirits lend their aid. When trust and righteousness run deep, exemplary people gather together. When ritual and propriety are complete, even petty people give their allegiance. Those with insight believe they are right, and those without insight believe they are right as well. People of the Dao are quiet and sparing with words, and the dull and muddled are quiet and sparing with words too.

Some things appear right but are not; others appear wrong yet may in fact be right. Some matters begin in sorrow and later bring joy; others begin auspiciously but end in danger. A person may be worthy of closeness, though their abilities are not suited to close association; another may be worthy of respect, though their character is not worthy of respect. Excessive respect makes closeness difficult; excessive familiarity easily erodes respect. Drawing close to someone may instead drive them away, while keeping one’s distance may bring greater closeness. An excessive favor can give rise to resentment; excessive love may be followed by hatred.

Some matters are best handled swiftly, others with patience; some call for directness, others for tact. The proper measure in handling each matter is extremely subtle, and must be understood. Even the wise may find it difficult to judge.

When the mind is calm, the spirit can move freely. When circumstances are difficult, the mind may become more open. When one holds high status, one’s words are more readily heard; when one is wealthy, it is easier to get things done. This is how circumstances shape things.

People with shared aims readily grow fond of one another, yet those who share a love of chrysanthemums may become jealous of each other. Those who give together readily grow fond of one another, yet those who compete for the same things may become jealous. Those who suffer the same illness readily grow fond of one another, yet the strong and healthy may become jealous of each other. This is the natural expression of human feeling.

A person of outstanding ability who is glad to be humble; one who is poor and lowly yet does not fawn; one who endures hardship without shame; and one who, despite high status and great wealth, becomes all the more respectful and diligent—such people may be called virtuous.

“On the Way of Governance,” Part Three

People cannot know how the seasons’ cold and heat change in the heavens, or how the sun, moon, and stars move. If they could understand these patterns precisely, then every living creature among the myriad things, endowed with life and Qi (vital energy) and blood, could follow the changing seasons, dwell in peace, and grow as it should.

Ministers, too, cannot know whom the ruler will reward or punish, or grant rank and stipend. If they could understand the principles by which the ruler rewards, punishes, and appoints people, then those who are close or distant, from far away or nearby, worthy or unworthy, could all put their abilities to full use in service of the state.

When trust is preserved, the realm is at peace; when trust is lost, the realm is in danger. When the people are exhausted by toil and their resources depleted, they develop thoughts of seizing from and harming one another, and cease to trust one another. The people lose trust because government orders are unfair. Government orders are unfair because officials have failed in their duties. Officials fail in their duties because punishments and rewards are unjust. Punishments and rewards are unjust because the ruler has not diligently observed and discerned affairs. When the ruler is diligent in observing and discerning, punishments and rewards are fair and consistent; when they are fair, officials carry out the laws; when officials uphold the law, government orders reach the people; when those orders are put into effect, the people each find their proper place and can trust one another. Thus, the root cause of the realm’s loss of trust is the ruler’s failure to observe and discern affairs diligently.

Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure, lived at Xirang for five years. King Ling of Chu sent a sacrificial official bearing gifts of silk and jade ornaments to visit him, saying, “I am young and lacking in virtue, yet occupy the ruler’s position. Now floods and droughts occur from time to time, bringing hardship to the people. How can these calamities be dispelled?”

Kangcangzi replied, “Floods arise when Yin Qi is out of balance. In government, they are like punishments wrongly imposed; in human affairs, they are like favoritism. Drought arises when Yang Qi is excessive. In government, it is like an overreach in benevolent rule; in human affairs, it is like complacency. Chu holds that when floods or droughts occur, the ruler should put punishments in order and cultivate benevolent rule, while officials should rid themselves of selfish motives and guard against complacency. If matters are corrected in accordance with these corresponding principles, the calamities will recede, and blessings of every kind will follow one after another.”

The state of Zheng had jade gui tablets from Hu lands and bows from the Rong. These objects had once been lost, but were later found in Jing, the land of Chu.

The state of Jing demanded the jade tablet Fenggui and the bow Ronggong, threatening to send troops to punish Zheng if they were not handed over. The ruler of Zheng was deeply worried. He rode in a carriage to see Master Kangcang and said, “The jade tablet Fenggui and the bow Ronggong are treasures Zheng received from the Hu state. They have been passed down through generations, left by our former ruler for his descendants. Now Jing, relying on its strength, insists on taking them and threatens to send troops if we refuse. Our state is in grave danger. I am thinking of sending other jade tablets and bows in their place to placate them. What do you think?”

Master Kangcang replied, “My lord, please remain calm. Chu also has treasures of its own; perhaps its own treasures can spare you this trouble. If Chu cannot do this, then you must send the genuine Fenggui and Ronggong. Jing is now using harsh punishment over a minor offense to flaunt its power and seize the possessions of an allied state by force. In doing so, it is losing the support of the other lords. When they hear of this, they will grow wary, urge one another to prepare for Jing, and strive to distinguish right from wrong and uphold justice together. They will firmly make Zheng’s preservation their first concern. Wait for a while, my lord. How can this necessarily be anything but good fortune?”

So Zheng sent the Fenggui and Ronggong it had received from Hu. Before they reached Ying, the capital of Chu, the people of Jing heard what had happened and said, “Zheng has followed the teaching of a sage. How could we take these things and let all under Heaven think we abuse our power and act unjustly, causing the other lords to distrust us?” Jing immediately returned the gifts and treated Zheng with even greater kindness.

People by nature seek life and detest death, seek security and detest danger, and seek honor and detest humiliation. When people under Heaven get what they want, they are pleased; when pleased, they feel secure. When they cannot get what they want, they suffer; when suffering, they feel endangered.

If a ruler indulges his own desires, the officials and common people will each indulge theirs as well. When everyone looks only to satisfy themselves, the poor will exhaust their strength and the rich will exhaust their wealth. People of every station will lose the order proper to them, until in the end no one can fulfill their wishes. Unable to obtain what they seek, people under Heaven will support one another and flee in groups, hiding, scattering, and searching everywhere simply to preserve their lives.

Officials pursued the people, who could no longer bear their hardship and suffering. Gradually, they began to think of banding together in rebellion. Once that idea spread, the state would no longer be the state it had been.

Do not seek to increase the population recklessly, or people will flee in droves. Do not keep expanding the cities, or the people will be worn out. If taxes are levied improperly, the poor will grow poorer by the day. If punishments are applied unjustly, the powerful will grow more powerful by the day. When laws and prohibitions go unenforced, the state will fall into decline. Officials who lack ability will fail to strike the right balance between leniency and severity.

Some officials compete with the people for profit. The people then grow cunning, becoming devious and hard to understand. When people throughout the realm are hard to understand, those above them grow suspicious; when those above are suspicious, those below become more confused. As those below grow confused, their superiors are burdened with more work. When their superiors are overburdened, rewards no longer suffice to encourage good conduct, and punishments cannot restrain wrongdoing. The people’s hearts then become unsettled and difficult to calm. This happens because offices have not been entrusted to the right people.

The first principle of governing the state is to examine people’s abilities carefully. Appoint someone to govern a township if their ability and virtue are sufficient for that task; appoint them to govern a county if they are capable of that; appoint them to govern a province if they can manage one; and entrust them with the affairs of state if they are capable of governing the whole country. In this way, talent will not go to waste.

When someone commits wrongdoing in their township, begin by instructing them. If they do not change and continue their wrongdoing in the county, punish them with a beating. If they still do not change and persist in wrongdoing in the province, relocate them elsewhere. If they continue to do evil at the level of the state, put them to death. In this way, rebellious conduct may be brought to an end.

If this is indeed done, people throughout the realm will each remain watchful and respectful, and will no longer entertain thoughts of defiance, arrogance, or contempt. Such a person is called a “Jingren”—one who brings peace to the people’s hearts.

Among all the tasks of governing the realm, none is more important than seeking out talent. The best way to find talent is to assess people through their understanding of government affairs; the key to understanding those affairs is to bring peace to the people’s hearts. Of those capable of bringing such peace, perhaps four or five in a hundred can be recognized through their writing, and one or two in ten through their words. But if one observes their spirit and bearing, and their calm, composed conduct, signs can be discerned in eight or nine out of ten. All this depends on an enlightened ruler, who must assess and appoint people with a clear eye.

In an age of decline and disorder, rulers select talent through writing. Among a hundred people, fewer than four or five can truly recognize ability from written work. If they assess people through their words, they may discern talent in only one or two out of ten. But if they observe a person’s expression, bearing, and manner, they can read eight or nine out of ten. Only a wise ruler in a peaceful and flourishing age has such discernment and can appoint people according to their abilities.

In an age of decline and disorder, however, selecting people by their writing only encourages ever more clever, ornate, and hollow compositions, while upright, elegant, plain, and sincere works are buried. Selecting them by their words only makes boastful and embellished speech more common, while honest counsel and frank remonstrance grow harder to hear. Selecting them by their bearing and manner only gives ever greater honor to those whose appearance is proper but whose hearts are crooked, while those who are upright, self-disciplined, clear-minded, and practical are obscured. As a result, the more worthy people there are, the more partial government becomes; the busier the issuing of orders, the more confused people’s minds grow.

The realm is the greatest undertaking, and the emperor occupies the most weighty position. With the right people, the state is secure; without them, it falls into disorder. If a ruler appoints the right people well, he can act with ease. If he appoints them poorly, he must exhaust himself searching far and wide for the worthy. Alas, how can a ruler who receives the Mandate of Heaven and gathers the people fail to treat scholars with sincerity? When human feeling loses its proper order, this is what a ruler should worry about most. And among such matters, none is more serious or more distressing than miscarriages of justice.

When capable officials hear legal cases, they may sometimes draw people out through deception, sometimes pressure them with their authority, sometimes begin from reason and human feeling, and sometimes make them suffer through punishment. Though their methods differ, they must ultimately be fair. Then the people of the realm will have no debt to repay for kindness received while alive, nor will they die harboring resentment. Only when those who govern the state, appoint its officials, and administer its punishments can do this may they be said to have fulfilled their duties.

In such an age, people’s aims are harmonious and upright, and every livelihood can flourish. People care for and respect one another; relations between those above and below are stable and orderly, like those within a family, and difficult to unsettle. Even if someone acts against reason and rises in rebellion, how could they incite the people?

After King Ping restored the rightful line, he settled in the Heavenly City, the imperial capital, and devoted himself to seeking worthy people. Whenever he heard of a good deed, he would be delighted for several days. His attendants and servants repeatedly spoke of ministers who were especially capable and worthy, and these reports continued for more than a year.

The ruler said, “My virtue and judgment are not yet sufficiently clear, so I have kept striving to seek worthy and exceptional people. I also worry that recluses living among the mountains, forests, lakes, and marshes may be overlooked and left unappointed. How could I enjoy being kept from hearing good advice and shutting myself off from the truth?

“Recently, some flattering courtiers have gained power and appointments by repeatedly praising me, then gradually strengthened their influence through their ties to trusted attendants around me. They think I am weak-minded and incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, and that I merely echo the views of the crowd. As a result, the habit of going along with everyone has grown ever more entrenched. Nothing does greater harm than imagining oneself wise while corrupting one’s virtue. I worry that worthy people in the mountains, forests, lakes, and marshes will still be overlooked. How could I enjoy being kept from hearing good advice and shutting myself off from the truth? These flattering courtiers have recently… [The text that follows repeats the earlier passage about the courtiers’ seizure of power.] They imagine themselves wise while corrupting their virtue; nothing could be more harmful. Unless they are corrected and stopped in time, they will form ever stronger factions and consolidate their power.”

The ruler then banished three close ministers to a distant region and demoted five officials. He said, “We cannot allow ministers to oppress their ruler and deceive their superiors merely to protect their stipends by catering to the ruler’s wishes.” When people throughout the realm heard of this, they praised his clear judgment and fairness. Seven states west of Hainan also submitted to him.

In the most ideal age of governance, carriages, horses, and clothing were simple; laws were lenient and clear; and the prohibitions and penal net were broad and loose. When carriages, horses, and clothing were simple, people did not excessively envy one another or compete for status. When laws were lenient and clear, there were few anxieties or taboos among the people. When the penal net was broad and loose, people could readily avoid wrongdoing and did not easily break the law. When people no longer excessively coveted material things, their desires diminished, and they were willing to serve and content to attend to their occupations. When there were few anxieties among the people, their feelings could unfold freely, and relations between them became more harmonious and open. When it was easy to avoid wrongdoing, people could distinguish what they liked from what they disliked, honor virtue, and understand shame.

Being willing to serve and content to attend to one’s occupation is called “compliance.” Being joyful with one another and open in one’s dealings is called “harmony.” Honoring virtue and understanding shame is called “uprightness.” The idle and negligent find compliance difficult; those who go against the proper norms find harmony difficult; and the corrupt and wicked find uprightness difficult. Compliance, harmony, and uprightness are the foundations of governing a state.

In a declining age, carriages, horses, and clothing were ornate and luxurious; laws were harsh and burdensome, with many prayers for averting calamities and many taboos; and the penal net was narrow and unjust. When carriages, horses, and clothing were extravagant, people competed with one another and chased after fashion. When laws were harsh and full of taboos, people were anxious at every turn. When the penal net was narrow and unjust, people no longer knew how they ought to act.

When society pursues outward show without restraint, people cease to be honest and pure, treating simplicity as shameful and luxury as precious. When worldly taboos become too numerous, people find it hard to express their feelings, and those above and below grow estranged, their relations rigid. When no one knows which proper path to follow, slander and disorder arise one after another, and people no longer fear death.

To be ashamed of simplicity and prize outward show is called “vanity”; for those above and below to be estranged and unable to communicate is called “obstruction”; for people to fear no death is called “recklessness.” A person of integrity will not serve amid a culture of vanity; a fair and upright person will not serve in a blocked political system; a capable person will not serve where laws and discipline are treated lightly and danger is courted. These three conditions—vanity, obstruction, and recklessness—are the steps by which a state descends into chaos.

Lord Jing, Xiong Yu, asked Kangcangzi what relation droughts and floods had to the order or disorder of a state. Kangcangzi replied, “Droughts and floods are caused by the seasons of Heaven; order and disorder are determined by human actions. When government is well conducted, even droughts and floods cannot cause great harm. Yao and Tang were examples of this. Thus the Rites of Zhou says, ‘Human effort can overcome natural calamity.’ When government is corrupt and chaotic, a state will gradually collapse even without droughts or floods. Did Jie and Zhou fall merely because of droughts and floods?”

Facing north, Lord Jing bowed respectfully and said, “Heaven has not abandoned me, for it has allowed me to hear these words.” He then presented Kangcangzi with ten pairs of precious Hong jade discs as a birthday gift, appointed him Assistant Minister, a position serving the ruler, and said, “May our state improve because of this.” Kangcangzi was obliged to stay the night. He changed into ordinary clothes, left the state of Jing, and went to another country.

When governance reaches its ideal, there are no pretenders to reclusion in the mountains, no improper profiteering in the marketplaces, and no courtiers who win their stipends through flattery.

Guo Chan asked, “How can the people’s customs be made honest and simple?” Kangcangzi replied, “When laws and directives are numerous and harsh, people become deceitful and false; when they are clear and consistent, people become honest and simple. The people’s customs change with the severity or leniency of the state’s laws, just as the inchworm changes color according to the leaves it eats: eating green leaves turns its body green; eating yellow leaves turns it yellow.”

Guo Chan then asked, “How can the people be made prosperous?” Kangcangzi replied, “When taxes are collected at the proper times and the government and its officials are frugal and incorruptible, the people will prosper. When taxes are collected without restraint and the government and its officials are extravagant and self-indulgent, the people will be poor.”

Make the arrow shaft from bamboo from Ju Yue, the arrowhead from refined metal, and fletch it with the feathers of a fierce falcon. Used to strike objects, it is no different from an ordinary piece of deadwood. But when the time comes to quell rebellion, win military distinction, and decide victory in battle, fitted to a powerful crossbow and fired, it is hard for the enemy to withstand from three hundred paces away.

The Feijing Sword, a legendary blade of extraordinary sharpness, is powerful enough to eclipse the sun, and its sword aura shines like a purple rainbow. Used in ordinary times to cut things, it is no different from a common executioner’s knife. But when violent evildoers stir up disorder, spread harm in every direction, and throw the realm into turmoil, whoever takes up this sword to put them down will meet no one within a thousand li who dares to resist.

Every implement has its own properties and its own fitting use. Its value lies solely in knowing how to respond to the times. In ancient times, when enlightened emperors ruled, the realm was at peace, all things flourished, and every kind of life could grow to its full potential. The best course then was to follow the times and leave the settled order undisturbed.

In recent times, there have been many deceitful and wicked people in the realm and few upright ones; many who are frivolous and chase private gain, and few who are honest, steadfast, and withdrawn in quietude. The wicked present words that go against loyal counsel as if they were self-evident truths. As a result, people throughout the realm distrust and harm one another. It is truly lamentable.

Laws and regulations should be easy to obey and difficult to violate. To remedy abuses, one should reduce needless complexity and unify government directives. Only when the powerful and violent are rooted out can officials serve securely. When punishments and prohibitions are firmly enforced, officials will not dare seek private gain. Only when officials dare not pursue private gain can the people become prosperous.

Shi Xing said, “Disasters caused by mistakes may be pardoned, but pardons should not be granted too often. If they are granted too frequently, evildoers will think they can exploit the opportunity, ordinary people will begin to hope for luck, and the worthy will instead be obstructed.”

Some people commit grave crimes and, after being captured by officials, seize the chance to fabricate charges and implicate others, falsely accusing innocent and good people. They deliberately widen the circle of those involved and delay the proceedings, hoping an amnesty will be issued and they will ultimately receive a pardon. Those they have harmed never obtain justice and can only endure their suffering alone. Then ordinary people, too, begin devising one crafty scheme after another. Officials are exhausted by the strain, government directives grow harsh, yet disorder still cannot be brought to an end. This is the harm caused by frequent pardons.

People abhor acting against what is right because they know they will be punished for it. They strive to do good and uphold what is right because they hope for a reward. Nowadays, those who act against what is right are pardoned, while those who do good and uphold what is right are envied and harmed, and receive no reward. Is it not difficult, then, to hope that people will act virtuously?

If wise rulers and discerning people in the world would give these words careful thought, they would understand that the people’s resentment does not arise because the ruler has failed to receive them, nor do the spirits grow angry because people have failed to make offerings. The more rampant flattery and deceit become, the deeper the people’s resentment; the more improper the offerings, the angrier the spirits grow.

Chapter Four: The Way of Rulership

Life is bestowed by Heaven, but its care and growth depend on people. One who can nurture the life Heaven has bestowed without being disturbed by external things may be called a Son of Heaven. A Son of Heaven should act in accordance with innate nature; only then can an official system be established. Offices are created to preserve the lives of the people. Some rulers today are confused: they establish many offices, yet in doing so damage the people’s livelihoods. This betrays the fundamental purpose of appointing officials.

When grass grows too densely, it rots; when trees become too thick, insects infest them. When people’s hearts are oppressed, they fall ill. When a state is clogged and stagnant, all kinds of calamities arise together, and unrest becomes difficult to quell. A state is clogged and stagnant when the ruler’s Virtue and intentions cannot reach those below, and the people’s wishes cannot be voiced to those above. For this reason, wise rulers value loyal ministers and upright men: they dare to speak plainly and clear away obstructions. When a ruler restrains private desires and follows ritual and law, worthy men will come of their own accord. When the ruler works the fields in person and the queen raises silkworms herself, the people will be moved by their example.

From this, it follows that worthy and upright people should be allowed to come naturally; they cannot be obtained by force. Those who are won by force are not truly worthy. The people can be guided back to the right path through education, but they cannot be forced into it through punishment. Using punishment to make the people conform is contrary to reason.

Yao and Shun fulfilled their duties as rulers without indulging in the desires of rulers, and so everyone under Heaven could fulfill their own wishes. They held the office of ruler without seeking to dominate the world, and so everyone under Heaven could pursue their aspirations. Some people are loved by all the people but disliked by the ruler; others are especially loved by the ruler but disliked by the people. Appoint those whom all the people love, and the state will be secure. Appoint only those favored by the ruler, and the state will be in danger. How can a ruler simply act on personal likes and dislikes? Since one must value those whom the people esteem, the ruler should restrain personal feelings.

“Heaven and Earth” refers to the whole made up of the myriad things; a “state” refers to a realm with a great many people. The people are the foundation of the state: when they are secure, the state is secure. Therefore, a ruler concerned for the state should strive to find talented people who can govern the people.

Jade is difficult to distinguish because it may be mixed with qing stone, which resembles jade in appearance. Gold is difficult to distinguish because it may be mixed with toutuo, a copper-zinc alloy that resembles gold.

When people adorn a quail with a falcon’s feathers, those with poor eyesight mistake it for another kind of bird. Those with keen eyesight see at once that it is still just a quail. Many petty men may have read the classics and books on techniques and arts, mastered ingenious skills and persuasive arguments, and donned the blue and purple robes of office. The shallow-minded hear or see them and assume they are gentlemen; discerning people know at once that they remain petty men. Gold is hard to recognize because it is mixed with brass, a copper-zinc alloy that resembles gold.

If a ruler is truly discerning, he can choose people according to their words, abilities, and conduct, and government will be orderly. If he lacks discernment, choosing people by their words, abilities, and conduct will instead throw affairs of state into confusion.

A sage ruler values the achievements that are not heard about, seen, or proclaimed in words. Then the people can govern themselves in peace. If a ruler prizes achievements that people report with their own lips, everyone under Heaven will rush after profit and buy a reputation. If he prizes conspicuous displays, everyone will exaggerate their behavior, show off their skills, and compete for advancement. If he prizes achievements that can be put into words, everyone will practice rhetoric and embellish their speech. When people are preoccupied with seeking fame, competing for promotion, and polishing their words—even making high rank and reputation their goals—government will fall into ruin.

Everyone knows that a mirror can show us what we look like, yet a ruler dislikes it when his ministers point out his failings. A mirror’s power to show a person his appearance is small; a worthy adviser’s power to help a ruler discern gain and loss is great. To value the small and overlook the great is to misunderstand how things are connected.

Alas, if a ruler simply keeps his heart quiet and reduces interference in government, while his ministers act with respect, practice frugality, and fulfill their duties, peace can be achieved quickly. Yet people sometimes think this is difficult, and I truly do not understand why. If a ruler’s heart is unclear and his judgments are unsound, then the order of Heaven and Earth, all affairs within the four seas, and every kind of life, from plants to animals, will lose their proper way.

If people are selected for office solely by what can be seen and heard, the number of officials will grow, yet government will fall into disorder. If they are chosen through inward examination and reflection, there will be fewer officials, but governance will be clear and orderly. Thus, we can see that in times when the proper principles are followed, rulers devote themselves to seeking people whose talent and De (Virtue) cannot easily be judged from outward appearances and who do not rush to make their reputations known. In times of decline and danger, rulers choose only those who are easy to hear about and easy to see.

Alas, do rulers understand this principle? If people are chosen solely by what can be seen and heard, they will compete with and harm one another, using every means to court praise and build their reputations. If rulers examine people’s inner character, people will instead become composed and upright, diligent in government service and the cultivation of De. When officials are composed and upright, and diligent in cultivating De, the people will naturally be taught without being compelled. When officials compete, harm one another, and court praise, even the imposition of punishments will not make people truly fearful. Do the rulers of the world understand this?

“The Way of the Minister,” Chapter Five

When a state is about to flourish, some officials at court are forthright and others tactful; some look ordinary and others striking; some are mild and others severe; some hold sound opinions and others do not. From their words and appearance, they seem quite different. But when their aims are examined and their hearts put to the test, they are found to be devoted to the state. Thus, even when their words are blunt, they bear no resentment; even when demoted or dismissed, they are not alarmed. They discuss affairs with sound judgment and do not violate principle. As a result, the seasons remain in order, the land yields its resources, the people’s hearts are not thrown into confusion, and the spirits lend their aid. Distant peoples submit and live in harmony, all under Heaven remains at peace, and the myriad things grow and flourish.

When a state is about to fall, most officials at court look respectable, wear pleasant expressions, speak in elegant and soothing words, and conduct themselves with easy polish. From their appearance and speech, they seem to be on good terms with one another. But when their aims are examined and their hearts put to the test, they are found to care only about keeping their positions. So they find strange events disturbing and become alarmed at differing views. They distrust and deceive one another, and in the end lose the Way of governing the state. The heavens then send warnings, strange things appear on earth, people fall into vicious ways of acting, and the spirits bring down calamities. Foreign peoples invade one after another, war and disaster follow without end, and the myriad things can no longer grow and flourish.

Those who accomplish great works and establish a record of achievement without depleting resources, burdening the people, or overtaxing officials; who benefit the people below and augment the ruler’s De above, are loyal and worthy ministers. Those who squander wealth and exhaust the people, make officials take risks for immediate results, seek rewards from the ruler for short-term gains, and ignore the disasters they will leave the state in the future are treacherous ministers.

In times of good government, offices are matched with the right people. In times of poor government, people are made to serve the offices. When Qian, a man of the Zhu Long people, asked how to serve a ruler, Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure, replied: “Once your name is entered in the registers and you have become a subject, put impartiality first in your heart, harmony first in your bearing, and uprightness first in your speech. Impartiality need not be displayed deliberately; harmony should not sink into flattery; and uprightness should not turn into offense.”

In antiquity, those who were honest and diligent put public affairs in order for the sake of the state. Today, some who are honest and diligent cultivate their own reputations instead. Those who put public affairs in order arrange matters clearly, act appropriately, and take the whole into account. Those who cultivate their own reputations may arrange matters in an orderly way, yet fail to see how they fit into the longer term, clinging instead to minor details. From this we can understand that when the Way is foremost in the heart, each matter finds its proper place; when the affairs themselves are foremost in the heart, things lose the places that should be theirs.

A minister who holds high office but does not remonstrate, or holds low office but acts unjustly, should not receive a stipend. If the ruler is not solemn and circumspect, senior ministers will find it hard to establish trustworthiness, and junior ministers are not suited to remain in court service. A capable person is not necessarily loyal, and a loyal person is not necessarily capable. A minister’s concern is not that he himself may be disloyal, but that he may give his loyalty and the ruler may not trust him. A ruler’s concern is not that he himself may distrust his ministers, but that he may trust them and they may prove unable to carry out their duties.

When people of the highest caliber are allowed to make full use of their natural capacities, all under Heaven can be well governed. When people of middling caliber are left to act as they please, all under Heaven is liable to fall into disorder. A wise ruler who employs people of the highest caliber should entrust them with authority to act as circumstances require, so they can work freely. When employing people of middling caliber, the ruler should assess their achievements and make rewards and penalties clear.

Worthy and capable men repeatedly seek office but are never appointed. They find it hard to advance and easy to withdraw into seclusion. This is not because they cling to life, fear death, or refuse to serve their ruler. They simply worry that after they have given their loyalty, their ruler will not trust them. Those who truly understand their own abilities and insight are outwardly respectful and inwardly at ease. They are calm and proper in their dealings with others, without becoming excessively familiar. When others draw close to them, they become more reserved; when others keep their distance, they withdraw without resentment. When adversity comes, they console themselves with the Mandate of Heaven; when they rise to prominence, they keep themselves upright by following what is right.

Some people appear wise in their conduct and sound extraordinary in conversation, yet closer examination of their spirit, bearing, and understanding can be disappointing. When a worthy person is appointed, they offer counsel at court and commend what is appropriate; once they leave the court, they are cautious and reserved. They are diligent in their duties, discerning in their work, and live simply and peacefully at home. Before they are appointed, they remain among ordinary people without displaying their insight or speaking rashly. They eat in peace, walk at an unhurried pace, cultivate themselves in solitude, and uphold what is right without resentment.

A wise person does not suspect without cause, and a clear-sighted person is not quick to distrust others. A learned person remains composed even in danger; their words are humble, yet the principles they express are not easily refuted. A worthy person does not call themselves wise. Whether they are wise is shown by the results of their governance and the merits of their work. In times of peace, people of the highest rank put their insight to use, those of the middle rank persevere patiently, and lesser people contribute their physical labor.

In Qi, there was a man named P’ouzi whose abilities were enough to revive the state and whose conduct was enough to sustain him on his own. He served his parents with filial devotion and care, and was respectful and courteous in his community. Knowing that his family was poor and he could not provide for his parents, he treated others with trustworthiness and righteousness, traveling abroad for a long time, yet rarely finding anyone who shared his aims. He may also have been mocked by people skilled at flattery and opportunistic maneuvering. So he set out on foot, carrying a staff, to seek the counsel of Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure.

P’ouzi said, “I have heard that the Perfected One can forget personal feelings; ordinary people need not be bound by considerations of personal feeling; and those who value human bonds devote themselves to education and honor trustworthiness. I do not know what I should do. Why is it so difficult for me to find harmony with others?”

Today, I do not know what it means to be a true master craftsman. If others do not trust someone, yet that person still takes this as trust, that is trust. If someone is trusted but others do not believe in them, that too is still trust. To strive toward what is right is to be righteous; to pursue humaneness without waiting for others to approve is also to be righteous. If so, why are those who keep faith and honor righteousness so often lonely, impoverished, and rejected, while people of our age regard them as worthy of honor and praise teachings that uphold such principles?

Kangcangzi, a legendary Daoist, lowered his head in thought, raised it with a sigh, and suddenly sang aloud: “When the times are bright, faith and righteousness flourish; when the times are dark, they lie hidden. Flourishing or hidden, raised up or dormant—amid the changing times, who can favor me? In my confusion, I no longer know how to understand it.”

To follow one’s nature and act with composure, yet receive no response from the world outside, is because the true Dao cannot be put into practice. When the true Dao cannot be put into practice, this is called the “decline of the Dao.” When the Great Dao is in decline, the highest sages understand why. At such a time, they withdraw. Withdrawal has its own principle: some things may be brought into view, while others may not; some things may be put to use, while others may not. When the state follows the Dao, they display their wisdom; when it does not, they appear dull. Thus even sages may find themselves in times when they cannot put their abilities to use.

Ji Gong asked, “Where are people of virtue and talent to be found?”

Kangcangzi replied, “People of virtue should be allowed to come of their own accord; they must not be sought out deliberately. Those chosen for office, however, must be selected carefully, with proper discernment. If the Son of Heaven remains still and practices Wuwei (non-action), ministers carry out their duties with clear judgment and fairness, punishments are not relaxed for the powerful, and the people are not left out of the ruler’s care, then worthy people will naturally come and be willing to serve. When worthy people are appointed, those throughout the realm can see clearly and hear distinctly, and their hearts are at ease, free of resentment. Then the Way of Heaven runs its natural course, the earth is at peace, all things are nurtured in simplicity, and the spirits need not manifest their power.”

Thus it is said that worthy and upright people should be awaited, not pressed into service. If the Son of Heaven is eager to bring order, and ministers seek talent in a calm and measured way, then people who are open-hearted, upright, generous, and able to bring peace to the people will come. But if the Son of Heaven is harsh and exacting, and ministers anxiously and urgently hunt for talent, then those who come will be crafty in their intentions, skilled at currying favor, and willing even to damage their integrity and sense of right.

If the ruler is suspicious and jealous of the worthy, while his ministers know only how to flatter him and seek out people who suit his wishes, those who come looking for office will often be people who rely on unusual surnames and strange titles, and excel at flattery and unorthodox tricks. If the ruler considers himself wise, while his ministers are bent on securing their own positions, those who come looking for office will often be people who chase after fine words and reputation, are greedy and corrupt, and affect an ostentatious elegance. If the ruler is indecisive, while his ministers are wicked and sycophantic, those who come looking for office will often be people who seem loyal on the surface but are perverse within, cruel at heart yet gentle in speech. Thus, the key to choosing worthy people lies in how one seeks them. If the method of seeking is wrong, unsuitable people will be drawn in.

In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor gained Chang Xian, Feng Hong, and Rong Qiu; the ruler of the Shang gained Yi Yin; during the Zhou revival, Fu and Shen; and Duke Huan of Qi, Ning Qi. These rulers could all understand the Dao and put benevolence into practice. They displayed sagacity and martial prowess, sought brightness and harmony, treated others generously, and governed their states with flourishing integrity. As a result, many worthy people came of their own accord and were appointed; they were not found through rigorous inspection and search.

Ji Gong asked, “You say that worthy people need not be sought, but will come of their own accord. Are there also people who are not worthy, yet come of their own accord without being sought?” Kang Cangzi replied, “There have always been many unworthy people who come of their own accord without being sought. When the world has the Dao, worthy people come of their own accord without being sought; when the world lacks the Dao, unworthy people come of their own accord without being sought. Rulers who possess the Dao are few, while those who lack it are many; worthy people in the world are few, while the unworthy are many. Therefore, there are indeed many unworthy people who come of their own accord without being sought.”

Ji Gong then asked, “Worthy people can help govern the world, and capable people can also help govern it. Since both can govern the world, what is the difference between the worthy and the capable?” Kang Cangzi said, “That is a confused question. Someone who completes a task and achieves success, then seeks neither reward nor reputation, but remains humble, yielding, plain, and frugal, is called worthy. Someone who completes a task and achieves success, then takes salary and reputation as honors, grows self-satisfied, and displays himself, is called capable. The worthy can bring stability to a state; the capable can administer it. To bring stability means to make the state harmonious and peaceful, as though it were governed through Wuwei (non-action), so that the people scarcely notice how much effort the ruler has made.”

The principles of the Dao lie in handling affairs diligently and helping people understand where Virtue finds its proper place. One worthy person can lead many talented people and still have strength to spare; many talented people judging a single worthy person will often still find him wanting. This is the difference between the worthy and the talented.

Some people live in the mountains and forests, yet their minds are troubled; others dwell among people, yet remain inwardly calm. Some make a great deal of noise but act with integrity, while others are quiet yet harbor crooked intentions. Generally speaking, when judging by someone’s appearance, a person who looks crude and ordinary but is truly worthy is one in ten thousand; a person who looks dignified and refined but is in fact petty is nine out of ten.

A person who does not judge learning by the elegance of someone’s words, who looks beyond outward appearance to discern a person’s bearing, who does not take praise alone as proof of goodness, and who can judge what is true without being swayed by slander may be called discerning.

Min Ziqian asked Confucius, “What is the relationship between the Dao and filial piety?” Confucius replied, “The Dao is the wondrous working of nature’s course. Filial piety is the noblest virtue in human relationships.

“The Dao embraces and sets Heaven and Earth in motion. It gives life and nourishment to the myriad things, enabling each to take its own form and granting each its nature and lifespan. Its workings are real and profound, yet it does not hoard the myriad things or control affairs, and it does not claim credit for its achievements. Try as we might to touch it with our hands, see it with our eyes, or hear it with our ears, we cannot locate the Dao as a concrete thing. That is why it is called the ‘Dao.’ When this virtue is expressed in human relationships, it is called ‘filial piety.’

“Filial piety means treating one’s parents well. At its root are respect and obedience, along with a sincere effort to understand one’s parents’ wishes and to act in accordance with their intentions and expressions, doing everything one can to care for them fully. In every word spoken and every thought formed, one must never forget one’s parents; in every movement of the hand and every step taken, one must never forget them. One must serve one’s ruler loyally, keep faith with friends, treat subordinates respectfully, and diligently pursue good deeds. Even when alone at home, one must not let one’s sincerity slacken. This is called fulfilling filial duty.

“When filial feeling is utterly sincere, it can reach the spirits and make one’s reputation known in all directions. When there is a response, a reply will follow. This is the result of treating one’s parents well.

“Yu Shun of old may be called a person of exceptional filial piety. His stepmother turned his father against him, repeatedly despising him and trying to harm him. Yet Shun became all the more respectful and cautious, remaining vigilant without resentment. His family plotted to have him dig a well; once he was down inside, they filled it with earth. In that moment of danger, Heaven sent its blessing and the spirits were moved. Shun quickly escaped through a passage beside the well. Afterward, he served his parents with even greater care. As his profound De became increasingly evident, he eventually became ruler of all under Heaven. This too was the result of treating one’s parents well.

“When King Wen of Zhou was still heir to the throne, he was also deeply filial. Every morning and evening, he went to the door of his parents’ chambers and asked their attendants, ‘Are my parents well today? How are they?’ If the attendants said they were well, the heir’s expression softened and he showed his joy. If they were even slightly unwell, his face filled with worry. This was the filial care he showed in serving his parents.”

Whenever the child felt even slightly unwell, the Crown Prince’s face would fill with worry. At mealtimes each morning and evening, he checked whether the child had become too cold or too hot. After the child had eaten, he would ask about the food that had been served before leaving.

When he heard that the child was ill, the Crown Prince would adjust his cap and observe a period of purification and solemn discipline. He always inspected with respect the food brought by the kitchen officials, and personally tasted any medicinal broth that was presented. If the food tasted good to him, he would then eat; if he felt something was lacking, he could not eat his fill. He did not return to his usual diet until the child had recovered.

When the ruler or queen made a mistake, the Crown Prince would offer a gentle, tactful remonstrance. Even the smallest things loved by the ruler or queen, he treated with care and respect. Thus, by beginning with oneself, filial devotion can spread virtue throughout the realm. The Book of Songs, in the “Major Odes of the Kingdom” section, says: “King Wen, in his rising and descending, was always beside the Lord on High.” This means that King Wen’s comings and goings were calm and measured, and Heaven would surely protect him; therefore, King Zhou could not harm him. King Wen received an omen in a dream and lived to a great age. Divination foretold that the Zhou would endure for thirty generations and that its fortunes would last seven hundred years. All this was arranged by Heaven and came about through his goodness in serving his parents.

Min Ziqian said, “I have been fortunate to hear the principles of treating one’s parents well. May I ask about the principles for educating children?”

Confucius said, “The Three Kings of antiquity always taught their children ritual and music. Music cultivates the inner self; ritual corrects outward conduct. When ritual and music are practiced together, virtue shows itself in one’s appearance and bearing, making a person gentle, modest, discerning, and refined. If a minister is willing to give his life to benefit the ruler, how much more should he be willing to cultivate himself in order to help the ruler do good? Therefore, choose loyal, kind, and upright people to serve as the Crown Prince’s teachers, and teach him to understand the duties between parent and child, ruler and minister, and elder and younger. Only by learning how to be a child can one become a good father; only by learning how to be a minister can one become a good ruler; only by learning how to serve others can one govern them. These are the principles by which the Three Kings educated their children.”

When Min Ziqian returned home, he put these principles into practice. For three years, no one accused him of harboring resentment toward his parents or brothers. His friends praised his trustworthiness, the people of his village praised his benevolence, and his clan praised the affection he showed his elder brothers. His reputation for virtue spread throughout the realm. This was the result of treating one’s parents well.

The Crown Prince of Qi sat on the Terrace of Clarity, reading. The Marquis Zhuang of Yan wore a tall hat and carried himself with a grave air. At his left hip hung a beautifully decorated sword, and on his right he wore a jade ring pendant. The sword and pendant shone in one another’s light: the left illuminated the right, and the right illuminated the left. The prince kept reading and did not look up at him.

The Marquis Zhuang asked, “Does Qi possess any treasures?” The prince replied, “When the ruler keeps faith, the ministers are loyal, and the people support their ruler, these are the treasures of Qi.” The marquis again made the light of his ornaments flash from side to side. The prince continued reading and did not look at him. The marquis asked the same question once more, and the prince gave the same answer. On hearing this, the marquis immediately unfastened his sword and left.

Alas, people often have biases and shortcomings they do not notice. Is it possible to go through an entire life without knowing oneself? When wise people see another’s faults, they often treat them generously and say nothing. Petty people, by contrast, may speak too harshly out of a passing dislike. Friends and relatives, sometimes out of affection or jealousy, may also say things that are untrue. Since people can be influenced in these ways, how could they not examine themselves?

Therefore, the exemplary person regularly inspects himself, as though he were always at fault. If he wears his own clothes and eats his own food, yet knows he has made a mistake and cannot correct it, he is ashamed of himself. Before speaking, if he knows he cannot do what he says, he says less. Before condemning the wrongdoings of others, he first considers whether he himself acts rightly; before criticizing their crookedness, he first considers whether he himself is upright. This is called “turning the light back”—examining oneself in turn.

The son of Zhai Xi was very filial and careful. Zhai Xi loved his son, but often spoke carelessly and said things that were not true. One morning, Zhai Xi went out and returned that evening. He told his son, “Jia has died.” The son believed him, but later discovered that Jia was still alive. On another evening, Zhai Xi said, “Yi is about to harm me.” His son believed him and prepared to seek revenge on Yi, but later discovered that Yi had done nothing wrong. On yet another evening, Zhai Xi said, “Ding is ill.” His son went to check and found Ding safe and well. Things like this happened again and again for many years.

The son had been filial and careful, but under the influence of his father’s words, he gradually stopped believing what he was taught and stopped showing respect and obedience. The people of the village resented Zhai Xi for his habit of telling untruths, and they plotted to kill him. When Zhai Xi heard about it, he was terrified and told his son after returning home, but his son did not really believe him. Later, Zhai Xi was indeed killed.

When someone talks a lot, people conclude that he is careless and lets things slip. Yet some people speak little without being cautious or thorough. When someone behaves frivolously, people conclude that his disposition is unsettled. Yet some people appear calm while inwardly they are impatient. Some judge by these signs and then decide to kill the person. When Zhai Xi heard of this, he was afraid and went back to tell his teacher. At first the teacher did not quite believe him, but later Zhai Xi was indeed killed.

When someone talks a lot, people conclude that he is careless and lets things slip. Yet some people speak little without being cautious or thorough. When someone behaves frivolously, people conclude that his disposition is unsettled. Yet some people appear calm while inwardly they are impatient. When someone is disordered and careless, people conclude that his character is base. Yet some people appear neat while inwardly they are corrupt. Examples of drawing conclusions from outward appearances like these are beyond counting. If one does not see through how things work, who can examine such situations thoroughly?

Sometimes circumstances allow no refusal, and one must respond: inwardly, one should remain calm, while outwardly acting with energy. Acting is easy; keeping the mind calm is difficult. Sometimes circumstances allow no evasion, and one must make a request: first plan inwardly, then wait outwardly for an opportunity. When the opportunity comes, act with composure. Thus, appearing calm while inwardly agitated disorders one’s thoughts and harms one’s nature; rushing after profit drains one’s strength and damages one’s reputation.

At times, people live in the world without realizing their ambitions, yet claim that they simply never encountered the right moment. This is like carrying the guilt of a crimson neck and waiting for the moment when punishment will come—is that not dangerous? Of someone with broad abilities and knowledge who has not been recognized or employed, one may say that the times are not without clarity, but that fate has not yet given him an opportunity. Is that not a fair thing to say?

Those skilled at offering counsel make every effort to understand the other person’s original disposition and restrain the causes that stir emotion. In this way, both sides can guide and benefit one another, grow close and respectful, and deepen their affection. Those unskilled at offering counsel focus on criticizing the other person’s disposition without understanding where that person’s emotions come from. As a result, they become suspicious and distant, and their grievances accumulate over time.

What children value is often what the elderly oppose; what delights the eyes and ears is often what troubles the heart. Those who are always blaming the foolish people of the world show that they themselves are not yet wise enough. Those who are always blaming the deluded people of the world show that they themselves do not yet understand things clearly. To condemn the foolishness of others with a wisdom one has not yet attained will only bring calamity upon oneself; to condemn the confusion of others with a discernment one has not yet attained will only bring harm upon oneself.

“On the Way of Agriculture,” Chapter Eight.

When people abandon the root and pursue the peripheral, government orders cannot be unified. Without unified orders, the state can neither hold its ground nor wage war. Neglecting the root for the peripheral also causes livelihoods to decline, placing limits on the people’s means of support. When their livelihoods are constrained, people are more likely to migrate and scatter; as this continues, the state is often beset by calamities. Everyone starts thinking of leaving for distant places and no longer feels settled where they live.

Abandoning the root and pursuing the peripheral also encourages a taste for cleverness and artifice. The more such cleverness there is, the more deception increases. As deception spreads, people exploit the laws and regulations, even calling what is right wrong and what is wrong right.

The sage kings of antiquity began governing the people by devoting themselves to agriculture. Encouraging people to farm was not only a means of securing material benefit; even more, it enabled them to remain in their proper place and fulfill their aims. When the people farm, their customs become simple and honest. A simple and honest people are easier to govern and mobilize. When they are easy to govern, the borders can be kept secure and the ruler’s position can be made firm.

When the people farm, their thoughts become more straightforward. With fewer selfish desires and private intentions, public laws and standards are easier to establish. When agriculture is vigorously promoted, the people’s livelihoods can recover. Once livelihoods recover, people value settling in one place and are less likely to scatter. Those who are settled need not seek other plans, and the people’s hearts throughout the realm can be brought into accord. When the people are united in this way, even the governing methods of Xuanyuan—the legendary Yellow Emperor—and Jilian, a sage king of ancient legend, can hardly surpass them.

The sage kings of antiquity strongly encouraged farming and weaving, making them the foundation of government and moral instruction. The Son of Heaven therefore personally led the feudal lords in plowing the ceremonial fields, used for sacrifices and to set an example in agriculture. Officials and gentlemen encouraged the people to value agricultural production according to their rank and merit. The queen led the consorts and palace women in raising silkworms in the outskirts and gathering mulberry leaves from the public fields, thereby urging the people to work diligently and instructing women in their duties.

Men do not weave cloth, yet wear clothes; women do not plow fields, yet eat grain. Men and women each contribute their labor and supply one another. This was the system established by the sage kings. Therefore, one must respect the seasons for farming, cherish time, urge production, and assess its results. Work should cease only when someone is old and frail, and rest should be taken only when someone is ill. One person’s diligent farming can feed ten people. During the busy farming seasons, attention should be devoted to agricultural work: no construction projects should be undertaken and no armies mobilized. Men should not be sent away for service, and women should not marry far from home, lest agricultural production be disrupted.

The Yellow Emperor said, “People cannot arrange the course of the four seasons. They need only sow the five grains well. People sow the crops; Heaven makes them grow, and Earth nourishes them.”

Thus, when crops first emerge, they should be spaced far enough apart. Weeding should be arranged so that people can work back and forth easily, and cultivating the fields should allow them to reach in and work with their hands. These are the principles of farming. Farmers devote themselves to growing grain, artisans to making tools, and merchants to trading goods. Is the timing of farm work not important? To disturb the land or undertake construction at an unsuitable time is a grave misfortune.

Sow too early, before the proper season, or too late, after the time has passed, and the crops will suffer many calamities as the seasons of cold and heat fall out of balance. Fifty-seven days after the winter solstice, plants and trees begin to sprout; this is when cultivation may begin. The principle of farming is to sow when signs of life appear and reap when growth comes to an end. When the season arrives, the land yields its wealth, but it does not wait for people. Farmers must act at the proper time.

Whether there is a harvest or not, make offerings to the land gods. Do not miss the farming season: act when the time is right, and stop when it has passed. In this way, even the strength of the old and the weak can be put to use. Those who do not understand the seasons of farming rush to act before the time has come, then regret it when the time has passed. To be careless and slow when action is called for is the worst course.

Plow when the ground is dry, so that the soil becomes fertile and loose. Crops grow well in loose soil, but the layer in which their roots take hold must also be firm. Choose seeds carefully; sow neither too densely nor too sparsely, and cover them with neither too little soil nor too much. Make the field furrows deep and straight, and keep the plots fertile and level. With moisture nourishing the crops from below and sunlight shining on them from above, they can all grow together.

When seedlings are evenly arranged, they grow to maturity more quickly. When strong and weak seedlings do not hinder one another, they also grow faster. Straighten the rows and leave paths through the fields, letting air circulate and cool breezes pass through. This brings a plentiful harvest and makes the work effective. From a distance, the crops may look dense, yet up close they seem sparse; this means the land has been wasted. If weeds are not removed, the fields become overgrown; if too much weeding leaves the fields bare, the crops are harmed instead.

When seedlings are small and weak, give them more space. As they grow, let them stand closer together; when they mature, they should support one another. Grouping three plants together helps the crops produce more grain. Seedlings are most at risk when they grow unevenly and fail to mature together: those that ripen first yield good rice, while those that ripen later become empty husks.

When cultivating a field, one must know how to thin the seedlings properly: remove those crowded around the strongest plants so that the ones left have enough room to grow. On fertile land, do not let the crops grow too densely; on poor land, do not let a single plant monopolize the soil’s strength. When crops are crowded on fertile land, they are likely to produce many empty grains. When crops grow isolated on poor land, they too are likely to wither. Those who do not know how to thin seedlings may leave the surplus ones and pull out the strong ones. At harvest, they get empty grains instead of food. When growing conditions in the field are out of balance, many crops wither and die.

Millet sown at the proper time has thick, sturdy stalks, large ears, full grains, and thin husks. Its cooked grain is soft and fragrant, easy to pound, and beneficial to the body. Millet sown too late has long awns, thin stalks, pointed ears, and many empty grains; the plants also look sickly and pale. Broomcorn millet sown at the proper time has long ears with few awns and full grains with little husk. When sown too late, it may have large roots and stems and abundant foliage, but its ears are small.

Rice sown at the proper time has strong, slender stalks and ears like a horse’s tail. Rice sown too late has thin stalks that do not grow well, thick husks, and is easily damaged and killed by withering. Hemp sown at the proper time has widely spaced joints and a bright color, with tough fibers and relatively small roots and stems. Hemp sown too late has crowded branches and short stems, coarse, hard joints, and short leaves and ears.

Beans sown at the proper time have long stems and relatively short roots. Their pods grow in clusters on many branches and joints; the leaves are lush and the plants bear abundant fruit. The harvest is weighty, and the beans are beneficial when eaten. Beans sown too late tend to grow into trailing vines, with weak, insubstantial leaves and roots, widely spaced joints, and small pods. Wheat sown at the proper time has long stalks and sturdy necks beneath the ears, with closely packed grains, thin husks, and a bright yellow color. Eating it makes people strong and vigorous. Wheat sown too late can cause swelling and illness; its seedlings are weak and its ears stunted.

Therefore, when crops grow in season, the harvest is abundant; when the season is missed, the harvest is meager. When each kind of grain is grown in its proper season, planting and eating it in due time can strengthen the body’s defenses, sharpen hearing and sight, make it harder for harmful influences to enter, and reduce illness. Is this not a good thing?

Confucius said, “In winter, when people eat their fill, their bodies grow warm; in summer, when they eat their fill, their bodies cool down. When warmth and coolness are balanced, people do not fall ill. When people do not fall ill, epidemics do not spread. When epidemics do not spread, everyone can live out the full span of their years in peace. Thus, grain is the foundation on which people depend for survival. For this reason, wise rulers devote themselves to agriculture. When a ruler neglects agriculture, he abandons the people. And if a ruler abandons the people, how can he govern the state?”

Chapter Nine: The Way of War

Lord Jing of Qin wanted his army to become the strongest in the world. He ordered his minister Bao Rong to make certain that Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure, was brought to him, promising him twelve cities in return. Zhou Shi also urged him repeatedly. When Kangcangzi arrived, Lord Jing welcomed him as an honored guest and lodged him in the finest guesthouse. After three days without an opportunity to seek his advice, Lord Jing left his seat, faced north, and bowed with his forehead to the ground. “Could Heaven truly refuse to take pity on me, a lone and helpless man?”

Kangcangzi glanced at him with apparent indifference and said, “I thought the ruler had come to discuss something extraordinary. Since you have a question, why trouble yourself with such worry and strain? When people cling to the impulse to kill and fight, those who are pressed down by it, too, follow that desire and stray from the right path. Beyond this, there is no other remedy.” Lord Jing bowed once, then again. He straightened his robe, held his jade tablet properly, and sat with his head lowered. “This is indeed what Heaven has ordained.”

Kangcangzi raised his head in prayer, sighed, then bent forward and composed himself. “If we trace the origins of war, it appeared alongside humanity. War is a way for people to display their might, and human might is received from Heaven; so the roots of war reach far back. There is scarcely a moment entirely free of conflict. People of every rank and age, wise or foolish, may become caught up in it. The signs of conflict begin with resentment held inside, not yet expressed. Then come glaring eyes and flushed faces; next, arrogant words, shoving, and quarrels; and at last, large-scale brawling and armed attacks. These four stages are all forms of conflict, differing only in scale.

“Even before Chiyou’s time, people were already fighting one another with wooden clubs. The Yellow Emperor once waged war using water and fire; Gonggong once raised an army in rebellion; and the Five Emperors also fought among themselves. Some rose and others declined, and the victors took power. If someone dies from taking medicine, it would be wrong to ban medicine throughout the world. If someone perishes at sea, it would be wrong to ban shipbuilding throughout the world. And if a state falls because of warfare, it would likewise be wrong to ban warfare throughout the world. War cannot be abolished, any more than water or fire can. Used well, it brings benefit; used poorly, it brings calamity.”

Therefore, in a household, punishment cannot be abolished for those who rage and do evil; in a state, penal laws cannot be abolished; and throughout the world, punitive expeditions cannot be abolished. The sage kings of antiquity used armies in the cause of justice, but they did not renounce the use of force without principle. When a campaign truly accords with justice and is waged to punish a tyrant and rescue the suffering, the people rejoice, as a dutiful child would on seeing loving parents.

The sage kings of antiquity used armies in the cause of justice, but they did not renounce the use of force without principle. When an army truly sets out to punish a tyrant and relieve suffering, the people rejoice, like a dutiful child meeting a loving parent or a hungry servant finding fine food: they cry out and rush forward. It is like a powerful crossbow bolt shot into a deep valley—nothing can stop its force.

Victory and defeat cannot be predicted from elsewhere; they must be judged by human nature. People want to live and loathe death; they seek honor and abhor disgrace. Understand the principles governing life and death, honor and disgrace, and you can unite the hearts of the whole army. An army needs many soldiers, but it needs unity of purpose even more. When all three divisions are of one mind, commands can be carried out, and the army becomes invincible.

The highest art of warfare in antiquity placed great importance on military orders. When those orders carry authority, the enemy appears weak; when they are kept faithfully, the enemy is thrown into disarray. Establish the advantage on your own side first, and you will then win on the battlefield. If you can truly do this, what enemy could be difficult to defeat?

The enemy invades in pursuit of gain. But if, on arriving, they face death, they will see retreat as the better course. When the enemy’s only thought is escape, there is no opportunity to cross blades. This is called the highest art of warfare.

Arrogance, cruelty, and deceit stand opposed to benevolence and right principle. These forces cannot both prevail, nor can they coexist. Thus, when an army fighting for justice enters enemy territory, the people will know whom they can rely on. When the army reaches the outskirts of a city, it does not trample orchards or crops, dig up graves, destroy food or possessions, or burn houses. Captives are treated generously and then sent home. The army keeps faith and honors its agreements; it takes the enemy’s property to make clear the difference between good and evil, and to show the consequences of following or defying the right Way.

If, after all this, some remain stubborn and violent, arrogant and unrestrained, refusing to obey, then force may also be used against them. Before the army sets out, it should publicly proclaim: “Our army comes to free the people from their grievances and to uphold Heaven’s justice.”

Therefore, after conquering another state, do not massacre its people; punish only those who deserve punishment. Then select people of talent and virtue, honor and reward them, seek out the elderly who are lonely, destitute, or ill and provide relief, open the government storehouses to distribute their goods, and release grain from the granaries without keeping any of it for yourself. Treat the people with thoughtful courtesy.

Today, if someone can save a person’s life, people throughout the world will vie to serve him. A benevolent and righteous army saves many lives. Who would not rejoice in that? So when such an army arrives, the people of neighboring states flock to it like flowing water. The people of the state being attacked look up to its soldiers as they would to their own parents. The farther the army travels, the more people join it.

Before the words had ended, Lord Jing rose and bowed, saying, “I am fortunate to have heard your instruction. I feel a heroic spirit filling heaven and earth within my breast, and I now understand where my aspirations should lead. My respect for you has grown even greater.” He then came forward with a cup to offer Kangcangzi birthday wishes, invited him to take the seat of honor, and revered him as his teacher, receiving him respectfully in the fasting chamber. A little over a month later, when the auspicious hour arrived at the Celestial Gate, the star position used in Daoist astrology, the ritual of practicing the Dao was performed in broad daylight.

The complete text of the Dongling Zhenjing (True Scripture of the Numinous Cavern) ends here.

Textual notes: The text lists several differences among editions, mainly noting variations in wording and omissions or additions between the Song edition and the extant text. For example, the Song edition has “dan” where the extant text has “qie,” and the character rendered “hu” was changed to “hu” on the basis of the Song edition. Some other words and phrases are absent from the Song edition or appear there in different forms.