《华阳陶隐居集》

In former times, Liu Xiang was versed in the learning of past and present, and Ma Rong ranged across all the classics under heaven. Jing Fang excelled at divining wind and rain, and Pei Kai was expert in the arts of Yin-Yang (阴阳) and occult techniques. Yet Liu Xiang erred through excessive brevity, and Ma Rong was burdened by extravagance and arrogance. Junming soon met with misfortune, and Gongju merely escaped the gravest of punishments. Those who are flawless in every respect are few, and those who begin well, end well, and leave a lasting reputation are rarer still.

As for virtue, learning, and breadth and quickness of talent, Master Tao of Danyang combined them all. He possessed the four disciplines of which Confucius spoke (virtuous conduct, speech, governance, and letters), and he had mastered the Six Arts transmitted in the school of Zheng (rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and mathematics), having probed the strengths of the classical scriptures. The green slips of the Purple Terrace (books held in the imperial court), the cinnabar scriptures of the Green Gorge (Daoist alchemical texts), the secret writings on jade tablets, and the wondrous books of the Jasper Altar: there was none he did not study deeply, penetrating their subtle principles. He was truly a rare and outstanding figure of his age, an extraordinary talent born to answer the needs of his time.

His collected writings had long been scattered, and no one in the past had gathered and catalogued them. His disciples collected and supplemented them, as though they had found the old Liaodong manuscript; and enthusiasts searched widely, as though reciting from the book collections of Hexi. Now the texts have been carefully collated and fixed, sealed in a red silk wrapper, and stored in the Hongdu Palace, with a duplicate copy placed in the Yange Archive.

The Record of Seeking the Mountains (《寻山志》) was written by Master Tao when he was fifteen.

Weary of how easily worldly affairs unsettle the heart, I took up my staff and climbed the mountains in search of seclusion. I followed the winding path deep into the heights, and the way was thick with dangers and hardships. My longing for mountains and waters was not yet satisfied when evening brought me to the foot of the peaks, wreathed in cloud and mist. One who has won what the heart desires forgets the body, and when the body's bonds are cast off, the spirit (Shen) is preserved. So I let down my hair, loosened my sash, and wandered back and forth across the mountain. My mind opened wide, my gaze stretched far, and my breath (Qi) flowed freely. The profound Dao (the Way) may be distant, yet it surely exists; however heavy the world's burdens, they should never make a person forget it. Once the worldly ills that harm people, as a bad horse harms a herd, have been cleared away, the butcher's blade finds ample room to move. The feelings between the myriad things and the self can reach one another, yet all find their settled place through the cultivation of oneself, and this is what I most value.

As for those who seek fame at Mount Xiyue or profit at Shuling, who parade the purity of Chu and Xiang or boast the reserve of Haojiang, who make light of life and prize integrity, who value reputation above their own persons: they have lost their original nature and obscured the Great Dao, and I cannot approve of them. Others wear wide-sleeved ceremonial robes and Zhangfu caps (ceremonial headwear of ancient times), moving back and forth between court and courtyard, their names handed down for having served successive rulers. Even if they possess virtue and enjoy honor, I would not lightly endorse them.

So by day I shut my gate of thorn, and by night I open my door woven of reeds. Summer grass grows thick beside the house, and spring moss covers the path. The courtyard is empty and the moonlight shines upon it; the zither sounds on the wind, tinged with sorrow. Crows of dusk perch on the eaves, and beasts of the twilight gather around. Sometimes I walk to the nearby fields, sometimes I seek out distant valleys; I sit on a broad rock and gaze over the plain. As the sun slowly sinks, I vanish into the dusk together with all things; then the moon parts the clouds and rises from the mountains. The wind stirs the pines and draws out long, winding notes, while spring water runs over stones and shapes mottled patterns. Dew clings to the blades of grass, and a herd of deer comes rustling by. I push aside the creepers and enter the valley, reaching the shore of a great marsh, and my mind grows clear along with it. Facing the cliff wall, I straighten my bearing; grasping a cassia branch, I wish to be as steadfast as it. Hurriedly I pick orchids and wear sweet basil at my belt, hoping to finish before the cuckoo cries in spring. First I gather in the gloom within my heart, and when the warm spring wind arrives, I will unfold my feelings.

When the mood rises in me, I set out along the mountain paths. My thoughts drift to the edge of the sky, and a subtle joy comes over me in a daze, though I cannot trace where it comes from. Gazing far, I see the river bending in its course, its waters vast; ranges of peaks pile one upon another until my eyes grow dizzy. The setting sun falls among the clouds and darkens their color; the wind crosses the water, yet the river stays calm and still. The rocks are tall and steep, and where the water widens, sandbars form. A lone massive boulder towers at the summit, and the cliffs seem to float at the edge of the heavens. Having passed the halfway point, I find the road ahead growing clearer, my spirit (Shen) far-reaching and free of worry. I come to understand the state of mind of Bohun Wuren as he climbed the perilous cliffs, and standing at a height of a thousand ren, my spirit (Shen) is likewise brought to peace.

Then I passed through the deep, steep crags and reached the Gate of Pines. Behind me lay a woodland running through, and before me a long-flowing source of waters; on the right the mountains rolled on without end, and on the left the sea stretched out as if joined to the sky. Bamboo hung with dew and willow branches swayed softly, as though welcoming the cicadas' song. Gulls flew in pairs toward the water, and egrets spread their wings and returned to the fields. Some roam over the waters, others wheel back over the fields, and such freedom is a true joy; yet when I think how short a human life is, I cannot help feeling sad. Mushrooms of the morning die by evening, their lives brief, and I envy the lingzhi fungus, which endures without fading. Even if the great Peng bird and the little sparrow are not of one kind, each can still wander at ease in its own corner of the world.

I wish to spread open my robe and pour out my thoughts to the distance, and to face the pines at dawn and declare what is in my heart. Arriving at Chicheng (the name of a mountain), I rested for a while, and meeting Prince Wang, I stayed the night with him. I admire the long-lived immortals Peng Zu and Juanzi, and feel that they are not beyond reach, that long life itself may be something to hope for. While the daylight has not yet darkened, I will go into the mountains to gather lingzhi. I enter the deep ravine to gather it, searching the hidden valleys, where the path is twisting and dim. The deeper I go, the more I never see the dawn; the gorge is so deep that it seems never to have welcomed the morning light. Above the tall pines, clouds often linger; beneath the drooping creepers, birds repeatedly lose their way. The birds flutter in confusion among the vines, and the mist resting on the pines seems about to scatter. The mist drifts with nowhere to moor, and a bird separated from its flock is searching for companions. Alas, the flock of birds and the mist alike have nowhere to return to, and who can hear the tangled thoughts in my own heart? Yet even when I look far into the distance, nothing stands in my way.

After the master passed away, no one compiled their collected writings for a long time. Only in the second year of Zhenming under Emperor Wu of Chen did Jiang Zong, then serving by imperial appointment as Palace Attendant and Director of the Imperial Secretariat, begin to compile the collection. The master had died in the second year of Datong in the Liang dynasty, and by then fifty-three years had passed, and a good many of the writings had been lost.

I asked a fisherman about the road ahead. He pointed me toward Penglai (the legendary immortal mountain) and said, "If you truly have the aspiration to seek the mountains and visit the immortals, I will have you stay at the Terrace of Summoning Immortals. Once you reach the Ying waters (the legendary sea-realm of immortals), you may entrust your heart there, as if ten thousand feelings had all come together and a thousand longings could all be fulfilled." In the end, however, I never knew where I had climbed to. On my return, it was as though my body had dissolved into stillness, and I was long released from the world of dust, drifting far away.

The vast waters spread across the seas of the eight directions, and the nine great rivers stretch far and wide. Waves surge up from the heights of the sky, and the rivers divide and rush down toward the earth. The sun sinks into the Changsang sun-cave, and the moon turns westward into the Longzhu moon-hollow.

Tongguan Pass is unblocked, and the Stone Gate has been opened. The Yangtze is drawn off, and the Han River follows in its flow; the Ji River drifts onward until it reaches the Huai. The water-palace of Zhangqu and the cavern terraces of Mount Bao are places where immortals come and go. Ehuang and Nüying once roamed there, and Qin Gao passed to and fro among them.

At times the water immortals journey far, like the great Peng of the northern wastes, or like the sun bathing in the Xianchi Pool. They follow the clouds to wash in the Fen River and chase the rosy mists to pluck the fruit of the Jianmu tree. In the courtyard of the Deep Abyss's water spirit they play with pearls, and in the dwelling of the Jiao people they gather in threads of silk. This is truly a magnificent sight.

On the green cliffs there is no mist, and on the blue-green waters no wind rises. Flying carriages are drawn by dragons and phoenixes, and for their outings the immortals ride swans. They pay court at the Purple Hall and return to pay respects at the Azure Palace; they order eight elders to walk ahead, then turn to brush the sleeves of four youths. They strike the chime of Dongyin and spread out the mats of Xuanpu; they drink the fine wine of Danxue and set out the delicacies of Linzhou. Anqi Sheng brings jujubes, and the Queen Mother of the West sends immortal peaches. Brocade banners shine against the bright sun, and feathered robes flutter among the clouds. How splendid this scene is as well.

When the autumn waters rise and tier upon tier of waves tower like mountains, the water spirits each inspect their domains and come to inquire after the orders of the water-palace. They go to the residence of the River Marquis to choose rare treasures, and from the river where the Black Dragon dwells they bring out precious things. Night-shining pearls light up the moonlit sky, and great shells fill the carriage shafts. This too is a scene of extraordinary rarity.

As for the layered high walls, the jade palaces, and the Jinyun jasper pavilions, these are where the Yellow Emperor feasted the gods; the stone tent of Mount Tu and the kingfisher-green curtains of the Heavenly Queen are where Yu of Xia assembled his ministers. Mount Min winds and interlocks, its mountains and rivers reaching up to the Jingluo star region; high above, in the lofty Celestial River, the stars cross and interweave, and the Yusheng stars stretch across the sky. At Guizhu warm springs flow together, and at Jinling boiling valley waters gush forth. Sand and gravel collapse, huge rocks tumble, torrents batter and spray flies. Waterfalls plunge from sheer cliffs, and cascades of ten thousand fathoms rush on without rest. The waters surge between Mangyang and race beyond Hukou.

Later, the cycle of the Youwang reached its end, and the numbers nine and six (symbolizing the changes of fortune) were overturned. People planned the water-works of the Western Han and were sent on commission to Longmen. The descendants of the Si line of the Zhou first met in their mother's presence. Pingyin and Julu turned once more into deep pools; Qinghe and Bohai were three times changed into mulberry fields. To look upon the transformations of heaven and earth is saddening, and to think of living beings changing with the times, one cannot hold back tears.

I am content with a lifespan like the course of the moon, and do not seek the long years of the swan. These are, after all, merely creatures beneath the pine, and hardly worth mentioning when speaking of becoming an immortal. Alas, if we look along the pattern by which life is produced, the most spiritual being in the world is surely the human. Should humans not follow the Image of the Emperor (Xiangdi), enter the Gate of Wonders, and find peace within themselves? If one sinks into a state that does not understand the Dao (the Way), one will in the end turn to dust like the ants.

There are also those of exceptional talent and lofty aspiration who set out alone on the path of seeking the Dao. They go to Meng Valley to seek Ruoshi, and to Stone City to search for the way of Lüliang; at Dizhu they follow Wuguang, and at Dongting they seek Longwei; they travel to the Golden Gate to welcome the Nine Mysteries and to pay respects to the Three Plains of Jade Purity. They allow their lives to transcend the changes of heaven and earth, and in the end they roam free and at ease, living forever without death.

Hymn of Mount Huayang

Pivot of the Realm (Shuyu)

The Hetu (River Diagram) records omens of ancient times, and the Records of Confucius proclaim the worthy names of old. The stars are arrayed in the heavens, and the two Golden Immortals are the outstanding figures of the earth.

Substance and Image (Zhixiang)

The dwelling was originally born from nothing; having arisen from being, it ultimately returns to emptiness. No artisan's carving is needed, for its form of stillness and vacancy takes shape of itself.

Form and Position (Xingwei)

They command the spirits and hold rank in the Three Offices; they divide the administration of duties and, in turn, carry out the five conveniences. They welcome the sages of the night, and at dawn the spirits gaze from afar at the high-hung morning sun.

Standards and Threads (Biaoguan)

The southern peak is graceful, like a mysterious cauldron; the northern ridge stretches across, like the walls of Qin. Jade-like stones and sandbars encircle it inside and out, and on all sides the faint traces of passing wheels can be seen.

Distinctions (Qubie)

On the left, willows shade the Juesui stream; on the right, the Yanggu River has been dredged. The land holds the lush, vivid air of the north, and the clear, cold well water is the Fengmen Spring.

Boundary Names (Bianhao)

Guo Gan left poems upon the shore, and the traces of Jiang Ba stretch far into the distance. At the Crane Shrine, sounds are heard from time to time, while the separate residence keeps lasting reverence and quiet.

Classified Appendices (Leifu)

The Hao dwelling is not a place widely known, and the Yue family once lived there in seclusion before moving on. The treetops, though low, offer only idle shade; the stone turtle has never sent up wisps of mist.

Orbit of Things (Wugui)

Fruit trees and woods flourish, and the remaining nai trees grow thick; in the vegetable plots creeping weeds run wild, leaving behind pungent, fragrant herbs. The luminous zhi fungus can light up the night, and the spring water of the fields often spills over the dust.

Gatherings and Wanderings (Youji)

Guests from Turtle Mountain slow their reins, and the Youth of Green Splendor unyokes his carriage. They rest and feast in the Hall of the Perfected, and hold grand gatherings in the Palace of Leisurely Quiet.

Talent and Brilliance (Caiying)

Clear, soaring songs draw flocks of birds together, and long whistles stir the returning clouds into billows. Zixian plays lofty, transcendent melodies, and amid idle discourse no one can answer.

Learning and Endowment (Xuebing)

Dwellings are raised beneath Leiping, and the heart is quietly cultivated in the shade of the stone cliffs. The mind of the one who cultivates the Dao has transcended the dusty world, and the drifting blossoms carry the literary thoughts of brush and ink.

Work and Fortune (Yeyun)

Since the task of delivering the spirits has already been arranged, going or staying may follow whatever choice is fitting. Why make one's name known? On the road through the realm of shadows, there are those who will know one.

Outstanding Accord (Tingqi)

While traveling in all directions, I seemed to hold a blade of jade-like brilliance in my hand; now I dwell in seclusion at Huayang. If matters truly stand thus, the Seven Primes (Qiyuan, the star spirits or primal energies in Daoist belief) will come to lend their aid.

Jimeng (The Stirring of Portents)

The appointed day draws near. The Hai count has not yet run its course, and the Ding day has not yet arrived. The Tang receives the Mandate of Heaven, and the time is fitting. Why must it be made manifest? In the realm of the unseen, there are those who know one another.

Tingqi (Rising to the Covenant)

While traveling in all directions, I seemed to hold a blade of jade-like brilliance in my hand; now I dwell in seclusion at Huayang. If matters truly stand thus, the Seven Primes will come to lend their aid.

Jimeng (The Stirring of Portents)

The appointed day draws near. The Hai count has not yet run its course, and the Ding day has not yet arrived. The Tang inherits the course of the age and will welcome a sage to its court.

Chengqi (Sincere Covenant)

Inscribe these words upon the Mysterious Window (Xuanchuang, a symbolic window in a Daoist temple), and let your sincerity shine upon the winding steps and before the gate. Look back upon this record and cherish it, and do not fail the kindness of those who recommended and sponsored you.

The Text of Ten Charges Conferred upon Lu Jingyou

The Master of Hidden Dwelling dispatched his chief disciple, Dai Tan, bearing the written charge and its bamboo slips, to present the document with the ceremonial kneeling rite to his early disciple Lu Jingyou of Wujun. Lu Jingyou was then living as a quiet scholar-recluse in the town of Lianshi in Jian. The charge reads:

Jingyou! In former days I held office in the imperial palace and attended at court. Though I was stationed in distant regions and mingled among differing teachings and customs, my heart yearned for a realm beyond the dust of the world. My longing for the Zhitian (the Fields of Divine Mushrooms, the dwelling of immortals) never left me day or night, and my wish for a hermit's life in the lands of Hao and Ying grew firmer with each passing year. People of lofty virtue (De) will find kindred spirits, and so we met like cloud and wind.

Two springs have passed since you came here. Then I took off my official sash, left the court, and set out hand in hand with others to begin building a dwelling on this mountain ridge. We cleared the water channels, moved the stones, and leveled the ground; we climbed the cliffs to fell timber and crossed the field ridges carrying grass and wood on our backs. As you raised the buildings on the heights, you spent all your strength and wore yourself out with toil; your face grew gaunt, yet you did not count wind and sun as hardship. Your spirit (Shen) was bent solely on the building. How could you spare a thought for the distress of hunger and cold?

When the dwellings were finished, we passed the cold and the heat here. Seven years went by before the work was at last complete. That we can live in peace today owes much to your efforts. The noble person does not enjoy glory alone, and the benevolent will surely wish to share joy with others. Therefore I grant you the land on the northern slope of Changa, within Lianshi township on Jijin Mountain, measuring about seventy paces, with a mountain stream running alongside. May you achieve admirable work here and forever be an honored guest of Huayang. Go now and dwell in this place.

You take sincerity and single-mindedness as your nature, and tranquility and plain simplicity as your temperament. You are unadorned and upright in conduct, and steady and firm in purpose. You do not chase worldly fame for talent, nor do you stoop to please the vulgar age; scheming, cunning, and deceit are not what your heart desires. For this reason, you are now granted the title "Reclusive Scholar of Quiet Dwelling" (Qijing Chushi). A "chushi" is a recluse who does not take office. This title is established on the basis of your virtue (De) and is enough to fulfill the fine name. The second of the right-hand items.

You planned and built the lodge and opened up the residence. The halls and ritual platforms are spacious, and the road leading to your dwelling has been laid out solemnly and kept clear. There are quiet places for officials and private visitors alike to come, go, and stay. You are now granted the "Four-Thunder Flying Pavilion" (Sileifeixuan), that is, a structure known by that name, together with side rooms and covered corridors, so that you may settle in a place of stillness while also displaying far-reaching blessings. Of all the toil of building and construction, there was none that you did not accomplish by your own effort. The third of the right-hand items.

You serve your superiors with diligence and treat your subordinates with generosity. Farm work is hard, and you have fully endured its labors; in trading goods and growing crops, you have kept grain and clothing secure. Your hands and feet have grown thick with calluses, yet you have not been given rest; washing and working in wind and rain, you still give it your full effort. For this reason you are granted a servant (cangtou, a retainer employed for service) named "Duoyiyi" (the original text here reads "his name being Duoyiyi?"). Let him bear your daily labors in your place, so that your toil may be lessened. The fourth of the right-hand items.

Your family has carried on its inherited work for generations, and you yourself enjoy standing in your home region. Although the principle you follow is consistent throughout, in handling affairs you should still make distinctions. For this reason you are granted a bronze-and-iron ruyi (a ruyi is a hand-held object that may also be used for ceremonial and directing purposes), which you may use to direct guests and subordinates, and thereby establish your name and accomplish your affairs. The fifth of the right-hand items.

You uphold moral instruction, putting goodness first, and keep to the law without rigidity. Implements and garments both signify status and may serve as objects of daily enjoyment and practice. For this reason you are granted a bamboo-shafted tin staff (a staff whose head is fitted with tin rings). When you shake it, it can stir the Three Realms (the different levels of the world between heaven and earth in Daoist thought), so that spirits and divine powers hear the sound and stand in awe. The sixth of the right-hand items.

With sincerity you accord with the profound Dao, and in your heart you imagine the bearing of the spirits. As long as the direction of your intention is clear, a heart that is single-minded can communicate with them. For this reason you are granted two incense burners, along with frankincense (xunlu, an aromatic resin of the frankincense type). When the incense is burned, its smoke rises to the Purple Pavilion (a term for the dwelling of immortals), thereby moving and summoning the officials of the upper realms. The seventh of the right-hand items.

You should purify your body and gather in your mind, setting aside matters of eating and drinking. When expounding the Dao teachings, pine wood and fragrant vinegar are also needed as ritual offerings. I have therefore prepared a set of cups and plates for you. At night you may pour osmanthus wine, and at dawn you may collect the dew from chrysanthemums. That is the eighth item.

You should respectfully study the scriptures (Jing) and sacred proclamations, following and honoring the rules within them. Brush and ink serve precisely this purpose. I have therefore prepared a large inkstone for you, together with paper and brushes. You may copy texts and practice writing, and you may also use them to record and receive the teachings of the Perfected Ones. That is the ninth item.

Your heart should be steadfast and sincere, and your outward conduct upright and clear. Wash away impurity, so that inside and out you are as clean as frost and snow. I have therefore prepared a set of washing vessels made of yu stone, together with a hand towel. You may use them to pay homage when entering the ritual chamber, and for washing your hands and rinsing your mouth in your daily comings and goings. That is the tenth item.

I now admonish you on these ten matters, each of which has a basis in the writings of earlier generations. You should face these good exhortations and act according to their teachings. Do not become proud or negligent, lest you damage their purpose. I take up my brush to set down my intentions, and solemnly inform you, a chushi (a recluse scholar who declines office).

Ordered by Imperial Decree to Say What Is in the Mountains, I Answer with a Poem

What is in the mountains? Many white clouds upon the ridges.

These clouds are only for my own enjoyment; I cannot send them to you.

A Poem Inscribed on the Wall of My Dwelling

Wang Yan (courtesy name Yifu) was unrestrained and carefree; He Yan (courtesy name Pingshu) sat and idly discussed mysterious principles.

They did not speak of the old affairs of the Zhaoyang Palace (a Han dynasty palace), but suddenly spoke of the palace of the Chanyu.

Sorrow on a Cold Night

Night clouds rise, and the wild geese of the night are startled. Their shrill cries tear through the darkness, filling the heart with grief; in the empty mountains frost and snow lie everywhere, and the distant heights are utterly still.

The glow of powdered cosmetics sinks into the bed curtains, lit only faintly by the cold moon. The wind blows hard and sorrow cannot be dispelled; bitter tears seem to have drained away all human feeling. Resentment is hard to bear, and who could endure this longing?

Song of the Hujia Flute

Fate runs against the season of Heaven, and the world's struggles over gain and loss are only confusion. Within a hundred years, four or five dynasties have come and gone, and in the end all return to the ruler of the Jiachen year.

Presented to Emperor Wu of Liang, on a Rival in Calligraphy

By decree... the cold moon shines faintly. The wind blows hard and sorrow cannot be dispelled; bitter tears have drained away all human feeling. Resentment is hard to bear, and who could endure this longing?

Song of the Hujia Flute

Fate runs against the season of Heaven, and the world's struggles over gain and loss are only confusion. Within a hundred years, four or five dynasties have come and gone, and in the end all return to the ruler of the Jiachen year.

Memorial Presented to Emperor Wu of Liang:

After receiving Your Majesty's edict, I searched among your attendants and the officials of the Secretariat for anyone with some talent in calligraphy, and found only Zhou Xi and Zan Fu. Judging by their dedication and ability, they will have to wait until the season of Jiazhong (one of the twelve ancient musical pitches) before they can show any real accomplishment. Now Your Majesty has personally grasped the subtlety of calligraphy and has also set forth its principles in theory. Whenever I think of calligraphy throughout the realm, people always pair Zhong You with Wang Xizhi; yet Your Majesty's discussion has brought new vigor to the art. I regret that, old and decrepit as I am, I cannot delve deeply into such lofty calligraphy, and can only hold it in reverent admiration.

I have received three sheets in Your Majesty's own hand, which, together with those received earlier, make five sheets in all. Not only does every character command attention, but every stroke rewards close contemplation. The more I look, the more vigorous and graceful the brush's momentum appears, beyond what words can express. Compared with what I saw before, it is already greatly different. Your Majesty's calligraphy has now formed a school of its own, so why speak further of Zhong You and Wang Xizhi? I had always revered Your Majesty's calligraphy, and now I admire and esteem it all the more; my heart is delighted, and I cannot but write to report it.

I am also grateful to have been granted two scrolls of calligraphy. Having examined the model works among them, I found that they all accord with the essential points of calligraphy set out in Your Majesty's decree. However, it was not expressly stated that these works were to be bestowed upon me, so I can only keep a small portion for the time being and cannot hold them permanently. I have begun copying one passage, but have not yet finished, so I have not sent it back with this letter. As for the paper scrolls, I already had them before, and since they are mixed with other material, there is nothing further worth selecting. Please allow me to return them to Your Majesty once I have finished copying them all. These works all belong to the formal composition style, and I am not yet able to distinguish their finer details, so I still need to keep studying. I only hope that Your Majesty might write some characters in a fine hand, like model texts such as the Yue Yi Lun and the Taishi Zhen, so that I may copy them as my pattern, use them to transcribe scriptures, and preserve them for the long term; the content inscribed need only be concise and essential.

Emperor Wu of Liang's Reply:

The two scrolls you wished to keep for the time being may well remain with you; it is of no consequence. These paper scrolls are used for mounting calligraphy works, and since I needed you to see them first, I handed them over to you. There is nothing especially suitable to select, so I will keep them prepared here for now. As for the fine-hand characters you want, like the model texts of the Lun and the Zhen, Wang Xizhi (courtesy name Yishao) has produced nothing particularly fine in recent times. Although the Yue Yi Lun is fine and vigorous, I fear it is not Wang Xizhi's authentic work; the Taishi Zhen is somewhat square and graceful, but its brushwork is too soft and tender, and its script style does not match either. Both of these works have already been sent to you for examination, and apart from them, there is nothing else I can hand over.

I privately suspected that this Yue Yi Lun (a calligraphic work traditionally attributed to Wang Xizhi) was very likely a tracing copy (a copy made by imitation), but I never dared to judge it conclusively. Now, by Your Majesty's decree, it has been determined not to be the genuine hand, and I privately feel that my own judgment was not without some basis.

I once wrote a short verse: "Praise that goes too far only seems weak; if one approves of everything, there is nothing left to offer."

Your servant further memorializes:

"By your kind approval I have been granted the plain-silk scroll (undyed silk fabric) and permitted to keep it for a long time. My gratitude for your consideration and reward, which I hold deep in my heart, is beyond words. Writings of this kind, though not model-books for study, share the same use and the same principles of calligraphy.

In the capital I once happened to acquire a scroll in the feibai style (the "flying white" script, in which fine streaks of white show through the strokes), said to be a work that Yishao (the courtesy name of Wang Xizhi) loved. I have never seen other works of this kind and cannot tell whether it is genuine or false; I only feel that its brush momentum is exceptionally marvelous, and so I respectfully present it to you. I have no use for it myself, and if it may be taken into the palace collection, I gladly offer it up.

Formerly, at Ma Cheng's home, I saw a catalogue of Wang Xizhi's standard-script works. Ma Cheng said that the General of the Right (the official title of Wang Xizhi) wrote more than ten pieces, including the Memorial Urging Advancement and the Rhapsody on the Goddess of the Luo River, all in the script styles current at the time; only the two scrolls of the Jijiu Pian still preserved the ancient method, with characters tightly and finely formed, so that hardly anything could be altered. I remember him saying these things, but the works were probably lost long ago and are no longer preserved.

Ma Cheng also said that all model-books whose inscriptions name a particular person as the mounter were meant to be requested from the various princes and court officials. Recently I saw the opening inscriptions of three scroll-books, and I too supposed that these works had long since been scattered. I never dared to speak rashly about these writings; I only hoped that among the three scrolls one or two sheets might also be included among the mounted models.

Later, by your permission, you granted me again the scroll given before, and my heart was all the more filled with trepidation. Not long ago I had just seen the heading of a scroll inscribed 'twenty-three, twenty-four' and was already delighted at how many there were; now the model-books you have bestowed are numbered up to two hundred and seventy, and I am truly astonished. The palace collection is vast as an ocean and cannot be drawn up by a single small vase. In total I have been granted five scrolls, large and small, which for a shallow person like me is an excessive favor; but for your special grace, how would I dare hope to receive such things?

I have always read widely but never mastered anything. In the past, troubled by having no books to read, I even wished to become a court historian in charge of books. Later, when I came to love clerical script, I envied those who keep the canonical records. I once said that a human life lasts only a few decades, and our knowledge and understanding cannot extend over all heaven and earth; to be confined in a narrow little world and indulge every desire is truly shameful. I have often thought that even to be a gifted ghost would be better than to be a dull and ignorant immortal; to this day that thought has not changed.

I had originally intended to begin copying after Wuyi (one of the ancient twelve pitch-pipes, here referring to the autumn season), but state affairs were then pressing, and though I live in the mountains, I could only remain silent and dared not trouble you again with idle matters. Now, in writing this inscription on the subject, I have gone on at such tedious length. I humbly beg Your Majesty, in your compassion, to take pity on my sincerity."

I have also read your other letter, in which you said: "Some modest praise is certainly in order. This matter is worthy of commendation, even though there is nothing to fault in its style or its teaching..." There was more after that. Still, this is not a field I know well, so let me try to say a few words.

If the brush is held at a slant, the strokes will lack sharp edges and corners; if it is gripped too loosely, the writing will be sluggish and weak. Rising strokes that are lifted too short make the brushwork look swollen, while those lifted too long look scattered and detached. Horizontal strokes packed too tightly tend to flatten the character, while strokes spaced too sparsely leave it slack. Excessive caution lacks momentum, and excessive abandon easily loses discipline. A character with only bone and no fullness is not graceful enough, and one with only flesh and no bone looks powerless. Ink that is too pale makes the strokes float and stall; ink that is too dark makes the characters heavy and dull. These cases are all much the same, and letting the momentum of the brush unfold naturally is simply the ordinary principle.

If one can arrange the variations of pressing and lifting appropriately, make choices that do not violate the rules, and, when the brush lands, join strokes where they should be joined and break them where they should be broken, so that rises and falls follow the momentum of the brush; if the flicks and turns at the ends of strokes (bozhe, the outward flicks and turns at stroke endings) extend with measure and accord with the rules; if the structure of each character is well arranged, with dark and light, thick and thin each in due proportion, fullness and leanness in harmony, and strength of bone matching form, then the characters are supple and restrained, and have a lingering savor when viewed. And if they are also crisp in their angles and imposing in their bearing, often showing a living spirit, pleasing to the eye and satisfying to the heart, then they may be counted as the finest.

Once one can recognize the work of each master, one should go further and fuse them into a unified whole. Even if one has thoroughly learned the Six Scripts (liushu, the six ways Chinese characters are formed and used), one still depends on repeated practice. There have been people, past and present, who could master something after hearing it once or remember it after seeing it once; but on the whole, calligraphy ultimately depends on practice. Cheng Miao was able to reform the script because he was familiar with the old forms; Zhang Zhi excelled at calligraphy because he studied hard over many years. Only with such accumulated effort does one have the right to speak freely about calligraphy.

From my youth until now, I have not even lived a full jiazi (a sixty-year cycle), let alone put much into practice on the pages and paper of calligraphic works. What is the point of discussing these things in my old age? I fear only that I will be laughed at by my contemporaries and leave a laughingstock for later generations. To have gone so far as to say things like claiming first place for myself makes my face burn and my heart feel shame when I read them, and doing so has become a genuine burden. This, after all, is merely excellence in a craft, not what I call something worthy of commendation; it is only dust on the heart of the Dao (daoxin, the original mind of the one who cultivates the Dao), and not the state of freedom from desire that I speak of.

A further letter to Emperor Wu of Liang, discussing calligraphy.

I have carefully copied out the marginal notes from the scroll, item by item, on a separate sheet, though I fear they may not fully match my original intent. I submit them together with the pieces I have privately copied. For more than ten days now I have been absorbed in thought, my mind uneasy and anxious, unable to settle even to other business, and so I have caused considerable delay. It would not be right to put this off any longer, so I have completed the remaining entries. Some of them are not calligraphic works at all; only the two pieces by Ji Shuye and by Wei and his contemporaries are texts in the format of scriptures (Jing). It is regrettable that these works survive only as single sheets and fragmentary scrolls. Having examined the titles listed on the scroll, I find their number quite large. As I said before, there were only four scrolls, which seems to have been a collection compiled during the Yuanjia era of the Song, and much of it was probably lost afterward. Of the works handed down by Wang Xizhi (courtesy name Yishao), only a few are well known, such as the Yellow Court Scripture (Huangting Jing), the Memorial Urging Advancement, the Eulogy on Portraits, and the Goddess of the Luo River; I do not know whether they are still preserved today.

Scroll Twenty-three: at present only four scrolls are to be seen. This seems to have been a collection compiled during the Yuanjia era of the Song, and much of it was probably lost afterward. Of the works handed down by Wang Xizhi (courtesy name Yishao), only a few are well known, such as the Yellow Court Scripture, the Memorial Urging Advancement, the Eulogy on Portraits, and the Goddess of the Luo River; I do not know whether they are still preserved today.

Scroll Twenty-three: what I now see comprises twelve entries, written separately on paper. Examining this scroll, only eight entries belong to Wang Xizhi's calligraphy. The Essay on Yue Yi at the beginning has an extremely vigorous and incisive brush, but it was not a work to which he gave special care, and so a good many of its characters are damaged. The Admonition of the Grand Preceptor and the Chant of the Great Odes show deep care, yet appear somewhat constrained. This style of script is suited to inscribing on fans or screens. The remaining five pieces have nothing especially praiseworthy about them. The single sheet Your Subject Tao Reports is not poorly written, but it is not by Wang Xizhi, and it is unknown whose hand it is; it seems to be a tracing copy as well. The two sheets Attendant Gentleman of the Yellow Gate and the one sheet Treating Lianli are in the calligraphy of Wang Xianzhi (courtesy name Zijing), and also appear to be tracing copies. There is also one sheet, Raccoon-Dog Bone Prescription for Treating Malaria, likewise in Wang Xianzhi's hand and likewise a tracing copy.

The four items above are not Wang Xizhi's calligraphy.

Scroll Twenty-four: what is seen at present comprises twenty-one entries. Examining this scroll, only eleven items belong to Wang Xizhi's calligraphy... One sheet is in Wang Xianzhi's calligraphy and also appears to be a tracing copy; there is also one sheet, Raccoon-Dog Bone Prescription for Treating Malaria, in Wang Xianzhi's calligraphy, which is also a tracing copy.

The four items above are not Wang Xizhi's calligraphy.

Volume 24 currently contains twenty-one items. On examination, only eleven of the items in this volume were truly written by Wang Xizhi (courtesy name Youjun). These pieces are all incomplete, and because they were heavily smudged during copying, their details are hard to make out.

Among them, the sheet Qian Huangchu San Nian is an imitation of Wang Xizhi's hand, a later copy of the Miao Xi Gao Mu Wen. The sheet Xu Xiansheng Shu is a separate item. The sheet Baohuai You Tong was written by Zhang Cheng. The sheet Wuyue Shiyi Ri was damaged when it was copied from the writing of Wang Huan. The two sheets Shangxiang Huang Qi and Sui Jie Zhi are both later practice pieces and are very clumsy. The sheet Bu Fu Zhan was written by Wang Xianzhi (courtesy name Zijing). The sheet Bian Fu Gai Yue was written by Zhang Yi. The sheet Wuyue Shiwu Ri Xian Bai was also written by Wang Min. The sheet Zhi Yin Fang was written by Xie An.

None of the ten items above is in Wang Xizhi's hand. I fear they have not yet received your approval, so I respectfully submit the Xu Xiansheng Shu together with Ren Jing's writing for you to judge. If they can be compared with the other pieces, one can distinguish the calligraphy of Wang Min, Zhang Cheng, Xie An, and Zhang Yi; these works may be put to official use.

Emperor Wu of Liang's Reply to the Recluse

I have read your opinions on distinguishing these pieces, and they show real discernment. As for where they agree and where they differ, and whether your judgments are sound, I cannot yet be entirely certain.

The two sheets in the hand of the Imperial Attendant (Jishi Huangmen) are said to have been written by Ren Jing. Looking at the Ren Jing pieces you sent, the forms of the characters resemble one another. However, in the other two sheets attributed to Ren Jing, the script is loose and disordered, and they do not seem to have been written by him.

As for the agreements and differences and the soundness of the judgments, I still cannot be entirely certain. In making such distinctions one must also consider the dots and strokes and the bozhe (the variations in the starting, finishing, and sweeping movement of brush strokes), examining closely the style and characteristics of each hand. This cannot be accomplished in haste by simply picking up brush and paper, so it is better to remain cautious for now and not rush to a conclusion. Both sets of copies, those of Master Xu and those of Ren Jing, are being returned together.

Further Memorial to Emperor Wu of Liang on Calligraphy

Reading the opening of your letter, I was greatly inspired. Although the discussion touches only a few characters, such as "two" and "six," its structure and standards are already complete. What follows runs to fewer than two hundred characters, yet its praise and criticism are thoroughly balanced, and it can truly be summed up in a single sentence. When I finished reading, I was overcome with emotion, as if the old bones of Yuanchang (Zhong Yao, courtesy name Yuanchang) had regained their glory, and the calligraphy of Zijing (Wang Xianzhi, courtesy name Zijing) had been spared a lasting decline. Only Yishao (Wang Xizhi, courtesy name Yishao) judged the relative standing of the two rightly, and so the standard of calligraphy appears clear and worthy of contemplation. Without the appraisal and analysis of a sage, people would probably have remained lost for a long time, swayed by the fashion of favoring recent styles and following custom.

Boying (Zhang Zhi, courtesy name Boying) is called the "Sage of Cursive Script," while Yuanchang stands at the very summit of clerical script. The realm described in your discussion comes close to a divine and wondrous craft, truly rare in any age and without a successor. Now that the principle has been made plain, those who merely copy the outward form, drawing a tiger that is no tiger, should lay down their brushes from today, return to the ancient methods, and seek what is genuine, so that the literary and calligraphic culture of this flourishing age may be advanced. I am fortunate to have heard this modest view, and my delight and admiration are beyond words.

People of recent times all esteem Zijing, and those who respect Yuanchang have gradually grown fewer. By the Qi dynasty, Yuanchang's name and true accomplishment had faded even further from the world. People knew nothing of Yuanchang, and nothing of Yishao either. I do not mean that their writings were wholly rejected and erased, with no one to appreciate them, only that those who understood them were few, just a handful of families. Now that I have read this discussion, I am so happy that I want to dance with my hands, and even that does not suffice to express my feelings. I would like to show my own copies privately to Hongyuan and Sikuang. Both are thoughtful men, and they will surely admire and rejoice in the work and gain much from it. Hongyuan and I have never met, but we have been in contact through my nephew Xu's study of calligraphy, so this occasion gives me a chance to meet them.

Since this discussion has already been placed in the palace library, I suppose you may long since have heard of it. Among those who copy with deliberate effort, the size of the characters they choose is hard to keep even. Guo's copy looks passable, but I fear its brush intent differs greatly. This piece will be handed down for a thousand years, so when copying it, one should do everything possible to make the strokes match the original.

In my later years I have been fortunate to enjoy your friendship. I examined the writing on the three sheets I received and found the brush force vigorous and the structure tight. I thought privately that, since words are used to convey one's intentions, the characters should embody those intentions: the mind moves with the thought, and hand and brush work as one. This work therefore especially deserves the judgment of "kai" (upright and orderly in form). My respect for you has grown, and I will treasure and keep these works all the more.

People all say that no traces of Zhong Yao's calligraphy remain in Jiangdong, and I have often sighed over this. We have long hoped that once the Central Plains are pacified, we might see the stele of Taiqiu (the tomb stele of Chen Shi, known by the title Taiqiu) and take its writing as a model for study. Now your discussion says that although few examples of regular script survive, one can still infer Zhong Yao's calligraphy from them, which shows that something remains. I do not know how many characters can still be found. If there is a chance to see the actual pieces, I would presume to ask that craftsmen be allowed to copy and rub a few lines. If I could be shown them, it would be a great fortune indeed.

Wang Xizhi studied under Zhong Yao, and the brush movement was ingenious and the character structure tight, surpassing the work of Wang Xizhi's own independent style. I do not know how many more sheets of this kind there are. You mentioned earlier such texts as the Yellow Court Classic (Huangting Jing) and the Eulogies on Portraits; are there other works that could be brought out? Those were probably works Wang Xizhi produced naturally and freely. I no longer request them now, and hope only to study Zhong Yao's exquisite calligraphy, and I respectfully await your generous kindness.

Emperor Wu of Liang's Reply

There is a scroll of Zhong Yao's calligraphy that people claim is an authentic original. I believe the entire scroll consists of tracing copies and contains little worth discussing in detail. Perhaps two or three lines are copied quite faithfully and faintly reveal Zhong Yao's brushwork. From these, one can see how Wang Xizhi studied Zhong Yao. Recently another scroll has been regarded as authentic, but I judge it to be entirely a tracing copy as well, and not worth much discussion. About twenty characters in it come close to Zhong Yao's brushwork, while the rest, with smaller forms and shorter strokes, mostly follow Zhong Yao's method of writing. You now wish to have models selected for copying, but I cannot yet hand them over. Once the arrangement is finished next month, I will send someone to deliver them.

On Calligraphic Rivals

Before leaving Wuxing, Wang Xizhi's calligraphy had not yet reached the level of acknowledged excellence. The finest works were mostly written later, after the move to Kuaiji and during the official post there, in the dozen or so years of the Yonghe era. After losing the post of commandery governor, offering a sacrifice to the spirits, and ceasing to serve in office, Wang Xizhi almost never wrote in person, and instead had the writing done by someone whose hand no one at the time could identify. People mistakenly called these works Wang Xizhi's late calligraphy. After Wang Xizhi died, the son Wang Xianzhi, at seventeen or eighteen, modeled his writing entirely on that person's style, and so his calligraphy gradually came to resemble it.

Now His Majesty has examined the matter and set it right, which is enough to awaken everyone: no one should again ridicule Wang Xizhi by saying that the late calligraphy was poor. I have heard that recently someone studied Wang Xizhi's calligraphy and wrote so well that genuine and imitation can hardly be told apart. The Guo tracing copy I obtained earlier reproduced the shapes of the characters but did not preserve the original's brush technique or momentum. I do not know whether, among the earlier scrolls, there are one or two works with disciplined and meticulous brushwork that could be included among the models displayed publicly. If His Majesty should graciously bestow them on me, I will inquire at year's end whether they are appropriate. That I am allowed to state my views at all is entirely due to the Emperor's grace, and I dare not presume that I will certainly receive them.

Reply to a Court Official Inquiring About the Substance and Appearance of the Two Teachings of Immortals and Buddhism

At the beginning, several court gentlemen of the Liang dynasty (holders of the rank of Chaosan Dafu) asked: "We have privately read the books of the immortals, and we often marvel and delight in them, reading without tiring. Yet we only admire their literary style and cannot see through to the principles within. The human body is no more than seven feet tall. Since all people receive the same primordial Qi (vital energy) of the Great Beginning and all follow the Five Constants (the Confucian virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness), why can some rise alone above the clouds, and even have bodies as firm as metal and stone? You, sir, are versed in the mysteries of the Dao (the Way) and learned in the whole literature of the immortals. Surely you can explain these principles fully. Please let us hear your views."

Tao Yinju replied: "That is an excellent question, but how could I claim to understand it all? Let me try to discuss it. If we merely said that bamboo, camphor, paulownia, and willow differ from one another, that would be because their natures differ, and it is not what we are discussing. If we spoke of Cook Ding carving an ox, or of Tang of Shang sowing grain, together with the labor of tending and irrigating, that would only show that things depend on outside support and still reach the limit of their own lifespans. Those who attain the Dao and become immortals also differ from one another, and within each kind there are further varieties. For now, let me speak of the main conditions of immortals.

"Whatever exists by the condensing of a bodily form is composed of nothing more than form and Shen (spirit). When form and Shen are united, there are human beings and other creatures. When they are separated, there are spirits and ghosts. The condition in which they neither separate nor unite belongs to what the Buddhist teaching speaks of. The condition in which they can both separate and unite is the one on which the way of the immortals rests.

"You ask by what means one can become an immortal. It lies in tempering and refining form and Shen so that the principle of response and transformation runs through them. Consider vessels made from clay. When first shaped, they already differ from ordinary mud, but if they have not been fired through, water will still ruin them. If the firing is insufficient, they cannot last long. Only when the heat and the effort are adequate do the vessels become firm inside and out, and even if rivers and mountains vanish, their form does not perish.

"Suppose a cultivator nourishes the body with medicines, clarifies the mind with Jing (essence), Qi, and Shen, washes the substance of the body with harmonious Qi, and then loosens its bonds through good virtue. All the methods of cultivation can then penetrate one another and no longer meet obstruction. When form and Shen are united, one can ride the clouds and drive dragons. When they are separated, one can transform through shijie (release from the corpse, shedding the mortal body by leaving the form behind or by similar means). When they neither separate nor unite, one can at times appear and at times vanish. After that, each person follows his or her own practice, pursues the Dao and advances in learning, and gradually ascends to boundless realms. Once the efficacy of the practice is complete, one too returns to stillness and extinction."

Some time ago I heard that someone had already copied out and compiled two volumes on the scriptures of the Perfected (zhenren) and their methods of cultivation, and at the time some considered their contents thorough and meticulous. Recently I have lived in seclusion in the mountains, devoting myself to quiet, pure practice, and I have been able to follow these methods with reverence and cleanliness. Yet when I tried them myself according to the books, I still found many omissions. I have therefore examined and investigated the texts afresh, again and again, so that their inner and outer principles connect, and so that those truly committed to learning the Dao (the Way) can understand the reasoning and no longer meet with obstacles. Every character and every sentence in the book points to a particular method and purpose of cultivation: sometimes one infers the formless from the formed; sometimes one grasps a hidden principle from a visible sign; sometimes one probes the workings of things to seize their root; and sometimes one uses what lies over there to explain what lies here.

For anyone who has not studied the scriptures and mastered the Daoist arts of cultivation, rashly leafing through these pages is like facing the open sea, with nothing to hold on to. One must examine their twists and details carefully before their principles can be understood. For this reason the whole work is divided into seven chapters, and its principles all belong to the profound grades. I once heard an old saying: the difficulty lies not in knowing but in doing; and others say the difficulty lies not in learning but in understanding what one has learned.

I have often seen people obtain only two or three volumes and five or six methods of practice, and conclude that the books have said all there is to say, and so go off into the mountains to cultivate. The longer they stay, the more confused they become. This is because they have not yet entered the gate, so how could they glimpse what lies deep within? Ask them even briefly about the essentials of their practice and they are at a loss, replying only, "The scripture says so, and we simply follow it carefully." Such people still need someone to enlighten them and guide them through the door.

If one meets a person of wisdom who is still open to instruction, perhaps they will gain some insight from this and be willing to ask about the rights and wrongs of the principles involved. As for the foolish and stubborn, they often rebuke at once: "Why do you interpret the scripture in such a convoluted way, and pass judgment on the words of the sages?" Some cling to their own views; others say they have inherited the old methods; and so they never consent to listen or discuss. Such cases are not rare, and they are truly painful to see.

Jing (scripture/classic) carries the meaning of "road," and also of "constant" and "all-penetrating": it refers to a principle that is lasting, universally valid, and free of obstruction, like the warp threads in a fabric. For a fabric to become a complete bolt of cloth, the warp and weft must also be properly arranged and matched. If the parts of the loom are poorly fitted and the beam turns improperly, how could patterned cloth be woven?

The Perfected (zhenren, those who have attained the Dao) set up symbols and left teachings, but they never intended to explain every detail to beginners. They therefore often pointed out only the main road leading to the great Dao and omitted the winding side paths. Those who know how to receive instruction should naturally infer from this what remains unclear. Even for the Five Classics, the writings of the various masters, the histories, and literary forms such as rhapsodies (fu) and hymns (song), the commentaries of successive ages have not necessarily clarified everything. How much more so with those writings that are profound, secret, extraordinary, and unique? How could one not probe their depths and subtleties, and exert every effort to ponder principles that are obscure and hard to grasp?

When I had roughly finished compiling this book, I set down my brush and sighed: "If Xuanping were still here, they would surely understand what I have realized in my heart, which has almost touched upon the principle between Heaven and humanity. But to whom can I say it? I can only entrust it to subtle, wordless understanding."

In high antiquity, Shennong compiled the Bencao (Materia Medica), which recorded three hundred and sixty-five medicinal substances to correspond with the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. Each day matched one herb, and each herb was meant to treat one illness. Above, the work corresponded to the patterns of the heavens; in the middle, to human affairs; and below, it took its model from the lay of the earth. People blended the five flavors and prepared medicinal wines to meet the changes of the four seasons. If the body was fundamentally strong and the Qi (vital energy) of the Dao (the Way) was able to arise within it, there was no need to take medicine at all. In those days people's hearts were simple and unadorned, and their desires were few, so even when minor ailments appeared, medicine could cure them.

After that time, the customs of the world became false, and human feeling grew steadily shallower and more frivolous. People's cleverness and scheming multiplied; their pursuit of gain was never satisfied, and their anxieties never ceased. As a result, pathogenic Qi invaded again and again, and illnesses became more severe and harder to treat, so that even good medicine could not bring a cure.

Later, Lei Gong and Ci Jun added to and elaborated on the Bencao, and compiled their two schools' Yaodui (Pairings of Medicines). They widened the range of conditions that medicines could treat and increased the number of categories into which medicines were classified. Because the times had changed and human feeling had shifted, illnesses deepened with each passing day. Sometimes people prepared the corresponding medicines in advance, before an illness had even appeared. Sometimes a single medicine was used for treatment, and sometimes many medicines were combined to treat a single illness. All of this was done to expel pathogenic Qi and restore upright Qi, so that people might be prepared beforehand.

The illnesses listed by the three schools differ, with some entries added and others removed. In some cases the medicines are different but the names are the same; in others the medicines are the same but the names differ. Some of their judgments about hot and cold properties contradict one another, and some of their statements about sweet and bitter flavors do not agree. Their methods of gathering differ, and the places where the medicines are produced are not the same. These discrepancies are difficult to verify. Yet if we look into their fundamental intent, we find that in Shennong's age there was no writing, and only in the time of the Yellow Emperor did written records begin. Shennong's Bencao was then ranked among the four canonical texts (jing), and later the views of the three schools were successively revised, with additions and deletions. Is this not a matter of adjusting to the changes of the age, so that in the end they arrive at the same destination by different roads?

Even so, the Bencao has been handed down for a very long time, and it has had neither a lineage of masters transmitting it to disciples nor commentaries explaining it. Those who copied it passed it along from copy to copy, and errors accumulated upon errors. The wording and meaning became fragmentary, and no one is now able to correct them. Once the uses of the prescriptions had been tested and confirmed, they spread more widely and were blended and applied according to the methods of combining ingredients.

In the year Gengchen, Tao the Recluse said: I have lived among the quiet mountain ridges for nearly ten years now. Although I have often done good and accumulated merit by helping others, most of what I did was only a passing arrangement for the moment. Nothing can pass goodwill down to later generations for so long as writing a book.

I read the Zhouhou jiuzu fang (Emergency Remedies to Keep at Hand) compiled by Ge Hong, and found that it enlightens the reader and adds a great deal to medical knowledge. Of all the matters that trouble a person in life, none is greater than falling ill. To be ill and not seek treatment is like fighting a fire without using water. Nowadays a physician can usually be found close at hand, but beyond the city and its outskirts, one is hard to come by. Living in a remote village, in the wilds, or in a place across distant mountains and rivers, how many people have died needlessly because illness was left untreated? Medical books are often voluminous, yet contain little that truly helps in an emergency, and searching through them tends to leave one confused and unable to decide.

Ge Hong's work is of great benefit, but it still has gaps and is not complete. So I gathered further material of my own and filled in what was missing, obtaining one hundred and one prescriptions in all. I marked them specially in red ink and compiled them as the Zhouhou baiyi fang (Hundred-and-One Remedies to Keep at Hand), which broadly covers simple treatments for miscellaneous illnesses. In the past, Ying Qu wrote his Poems in a Hundred and One Parts to admonish himself in word and deed; in compiling this book, I hope to protect and nourish my own body.

The Buddhist scriptures teach that a person is composed of the "four great elements" of earth, water, fire, and wind, and that each element may give rise to one hundred and one diseases. For this reason, everyone should examine and care for their own body with diligence. Whether learned or ordinary, all may copy this book and study it. After gathering and arranging these prescriptions, I also compiled a separate work in five fascicles, the Xiaoyan fang (Tested and Proven Remedies), which discusses the symptoms of various diseases and how to adapt the use of medicines to their properties. These belong to a fuller body of therapeutic method and are not essential for those living in remote mountains; yet even those who ride in splendid carriages and dwell in grand residences ought to know them and take heed.

In his preface, Ge Hong said that this book could be used to help poor families and people living in the countryside. But its use does not end there. Officials and scholars today may consult medical books when they are at leisure and at ease. But if they are ordered away from their posts to travel on official business, or are on night duty in the palace and cannot go home day or night, or are bound by military duties and confined in a heavily guarded fortress, then when sudden illness strikes they often can only stand by helplessly. If they can look up a remedy in a book carried on their person, they have a chance to treat the emergency themselves. For this reason, I have deliberately described the symptoms in detail, so that readers can understand clearly and not be hindered by uncertainty; once they grasp the main principles and entries of the book, they will be less likely to make mistakes in treatment.

I live in seclusion among the ridges of Mount Mao, and in my leisure I practice tuna (breathing exercises to regulate the breath and nourish Qi), while also paying close attention to medicine and formulary arts. When I read what the Bencao says about the properties of medicinal substances, I felt it embodied the careful intention of the sages, so I set about compiling and discussing it. The older tradition calls this work the Shennong Bencao Jing (Shennong's Classic of Materia Medica), and I believe that is indeed correct.

It is said that when Shennong governed the world, he drew the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) to communicate with the feelings of the ghosts and spirits, taught people to farm so as to reduce the harm that comes from killing, and passed down the healing use of medicinal substances to save those who were sick, wounded, or facing early death. These three undertakings were developed over time by many sages. King Wen and Confucius drew on images to construct the hexagrams and composed the hexagram and line texts, illuminating subtle principles and assisting Heaven and Earth in the transformation and nurturing of all things. Houji and Yi Yin sowed the various grains, benefiting the common people. Qi Bo, the Yellow Emperor, Peng Zu, and Bian Que promoted the way of medicine and supported the work of healing, so that their kindness reached all living beings. These endeavors have continued for more than three thousand years, and people still rely on them today.

Yet before the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan, there was as yet no written script in circulation. Just as the six lines of the hexagrams use symbols to display principles, and pictures were used to represent farming, the ancients often passed down knowledge by tying it to concrete things. The effects of medicinal substances too must have been identified and handed on, generation after generation, by experienced people; otherwise, how could this knowledge have survived to the present? By the time of Tong Jun, Lei Gong, and others, knowledge of medicinal substances was at last written onto bamboo slips. This work should belong to the same category as the Suwen (Plain Questions), except that later generations have supplemented and embellished it many times.

When the First Emperor of Qin burned the books, texts on medical formulas, divination, and numerological arts were not included among those to be destroyed, and so they were preserved. But later, through warfare and displacement, the canonical texts were burned and scattered, and less than one thousandth of them remained. The four fascicles that survive today are the Shennong Bencao Jing. Because the commandery and county names recorded in the book for the places where substances are produced follow the administrative divisions of the Eastern Han, it is suspected that they were recorded by Zhang Zhongjing, Hua Tuo, and others. There is also the Tong Jun Caiyao Lu (Tong Jun's Record of Gathering Medicinals), which describes the flowers, leaves, shapes, and colors of medicinal substances and how they are combined, as well as a four-fascicle discussion of medicinals explaining how substances are paired and used together.

From the Wei and Jin dynasties onward, Wu Pu, Li Dangzhi, and others again abridged, expanded, and reorganized these works. The various authorities record differing numbers of substances: five hundred ninety-five, four hundred forty-one, or three hundred nineteen. Some mix the upper, middle, and lower grades together; the cold and hot natures of the substances are thrown into disorder; plants and minerals are not distinguished; and insects and beasts are confused with one another. As for the principal indications of each substance, the records of the various authorities are sometimes right and sometimes wrong. Physicians cannot necessarily see every text, and so the knowledge they command is deep in some cases and shallow in others.

Now I have gathered the various materia medica texts together, examined and sorted their differing degrees of detail and brevity, and taken as my foundation the three hundred sixty-five substances of the upper, middle, and lower grades in the Shennong Bencao Jing. To these I have added three hundred sixty-five substances recorded by renowned physicians of later ages, for a total of seven hundred thirty. Whether a substance is of fine quality or ordinary, I have tried to include it so that nothing is omitted, and I have arranged them by category, distinguishing the various kinds of things. At the same time, I have noted which substances were in common use at the time, the conditions of production in different regions, and the substances required in the immortals' scriptures (xianjing) and Daoist arts. Together with this preface, the work comes to seven fascicles. Although I cannot claim to have caught up with the achievements of the worthy men of earlier times, it may still be counted as the words of one school of my own. After I have died, it can be left to those who truly understand it.

Collected Works of Tao Yinju of Huayang, Last Volume

Compiled by the disciple Fu Xiao of Zhaotai; collated by the Great Cavern (Dadong) disciple Chen Tong.

Stele of the Altar at the Former Lodge of Registrar Xu

The numinous and subtle Way (Dao) of the cosmos is far-reaching and vast. It is difficult to convey in words and images, and writing cannot record it in full. Yet if no account were left, how would later generations come to know it? The Dao embraces and transforms the myriad things and nurtures plants and living beings. Trace the myriad things back to their source, and its principle is deep and hard to fathom. As for how forms differ, and how each thing's nature and function are distinct, these can be investigated through human experience and the patterns of things.

Why are mountains so high and the sea so broad? Probably because they can hold all things. Within the Great Heaven there are also thirty-six lesser heavens, with their own terrestrial realms and expanses of sky. They connect the veins of the Xu River, open wind caverns, and let the cloud-qi (Qi) circulate. This mountain was originally called Mount Gouqu. Beneath it lies the Eighth Grotto Palace, named "Heaven of Huayang in the Golden Altar" (a Daoist grotto-heaven and blessed land). It measures one hundred and fifty li around and is divided into three administrative offices. In the reign of Emperor Yuan of the Former Han, the Three Lords Mao of Xianyang attained the Dao and came here to take charge of its affairs, which is why the mountain is also called Mount Mao. The details are recorded in the relevant biographies.

In the first year of the Taihe era of the Jin, Registrar Xu of Jurong built a residence here, and its remains survive to this day. In the early Song, Prince Jing of Changsha built a hermitage for Daoists to the east of this place. In the thirteenth year of the Tianjian era of the Liang, the hermitage was rebuilt and established as the Zhuyang Lodge, in accord with earlier omens and legends, and a recluse's dwelling was added to the west of the lodge. In the fourteenth year of Tianjian, the Yugang Chamber was built separately, to follow the traces of the immortal realm of Xuanzhou. In the seventeenth year of Tianjian, the altar was repaired and a stele erected upon it, to recount reverently the model set by the Perfected One.

The Perfected One's surname was Xu, his given name Mushi, his courtesy name Sixuan, and he was originally from Pingyu in Runan. In the second year of the Zhongping era of Emperor Ling of the Later Han, his sixth-generation ancestor Xu Guang, courtesy name Shaozhang, crossed the river to avoid the power of the Chancellor Xu and settled in Jiyang Hamlet, Duxiang, Jurong County, Danyang Commandery. He later served the state of Wu and became Minister of the Imperial Household. He was broad in vision and outstanding in talent, and many of his descendants were capable. His grandfather Xu Shang, courtesy name Yuanfu, was skilled in letters and rich in strategy, and served as Secretary of the Palace Secretariat of Wu. His father Xu Fu, courtesy name Zhongxian, was generous in capacity and versed in affairs, and simple and refined by temperament. Under the Jin he successively held the posts of General Who Pacifies the North, Grand Administrator of Xiapei, and Marquis of Xicheng.

Registrar Xu was the fifth son of Xu Fu. He made a name for himself in his youth, and his courtesy name was Jianwen. He first served in a prince's household and then entered office as Erudite of the Imperial Academy. Leading figures in court ritual and Confucian learning all esteemed him. He later served outside the capital as Magistrate of Yuyao, where he cared for the people's hardships, and his kindness reached the neighboring districts. The court summoned him to serve in the palace and assist the emperor. At the end of the Shengping era he was appointed Registrar of the Army Protectorate and Local Arbiter of his home commandery. Outwardly he oversaw military affairs, and inwardly he assessed and selected talent. Distant regions kept to the law because of him, and his home district praised his upright conduct.

During the Taihe era he was promoted to Palace Attendant and Cavalier Attendant-in-Ordinary. His rank was eminent, yet he valued the cultivation of virtue (De) above it. When Emperor Jianwen took the throne and was about to show favor to this senior minister, the emperor died, and Xu resigned his office and withdrew into seclusion, devoting himself to practicing the Supreme Dao in the mountains. Although Registrar Xu stood among the court officials and had lectured on Confucian learning at the schools, his aspirations had long since risen beyond the dust of the world and yearned for the Way of the immortals and the Perfected.

His fourth elder brother had gone off to wander far away. In the fourth year of the Yonghe era, that brother gladly entered seclusion and never returned. Registrar Xu likewise admired the profound and wondrous realm of the Dao, and his devotion deepened with the passing days. He formed a close bond of spirit (Shen) with Lord Yang. During the Xingning era the many Perfected Ones descended to Lord Yang's abode and ordered him to proclaim the Dragon Script and Cloud Seal Script (sacred scripts of Daoism). Through this, Xu came to understand broadly the arcane methods and purport of the Dao. Afterward he probed these teachings deeply, and even in advanced age his practice grew still more earnest.

In the first year of the Taiyuan era, Registrar Xu died at the age of seventy-two. His sons and nephews, following ritual, buried him in the great tomb west of the county seat. His lofty reputation has not faded, and the traces of the flying sword of legend remain here as well.

According to the Zhen'gao (Declarations of the Perfected, a Daoist scripture), Registrar Xu's destined foundation was deep, and the good karma he accumulated in earlier lives was of long standing. In the age of King Wu of Zhou he had been the younger brother of Lord Xue, Senior Chancellor of the Nine Palaces and Chief of Li, and he also assisted the Xu ancestors in establishing their achievements and left blessings to later generations. He therefore took birth in the human world in accord with the turning of the times, and by his own endowment he perfected the Dao. A jade tablet conferred on him the status of a Perfected One of Shangqing (Highest Purity). His rank was listed among the marquises and earls, and his station belonged to the ministerial officials. He administered affairs of the immortal realm, assisting the sages and shepherding the people. However, the true account of his transmission has not been made public, so it cannot be recounted in full. Lord Yang's name was Xi, and his deeds are recorded in detail in the Zhen'gao.

The Chief Secretary's third son was named Yufu, known in the world as Pian, with the courtesy name Daoxiang (Dao-xiang), and he was a legitimate heir. His mother, a daughter of Tao Wei, died long ago and now dwells in the Palace of Easy Transition within the grotto-heaven. Yufu was intelligent, clear-minded, and pure in character, far beyond ordinary people. The commandery recommended him as a shangji (an official who reported the commandery's affairs to higher authorities), but he did not go. He renounced worldly affairs and devoted himself to the highest teachings of the Dao. He was the Perfected master of Hongjing's mysterious inner circle. He lived for a long time in this residence, editing scriptures (Jing) and refining methods of the Dao. Lord Yang visited him many times, and the two repeatedly communed with one another.

In the fifth year of the Taihe era, he died here at the age of thirty. The Zhengao (Declarations of the Perfected) records that sixteen years later he would ascend to Shuhua as an attendant of Qingtong, the Supreme Minister, and would then receive scriptures at Dichen and become an Immortal Duke of Shangqing (Highest Clarity), serving jointly with Guxizi. An immortal post at Dichen is equivalent to that of an imperial attendant in the human world. Yufu's eldest brother Kui, known in the world as Zhen, and his second brother Huya, known as Lian, also attained the Dao. Kui now has a distant descendant named Lingzhen living in the mountains, who proposed founding the Sizhen Hall to honor the virtue (De) of his remote ancestors.

His Majesty came to this place by the strength of vast vows and primordial power, nurturing the myriad things, transforming living beings, and setting standards for all kinds of creatures. He guides the Dao, corrects the customs of the world, and teaches according to circumstances. In seclusion he gathered the scriptural declarations of the Three Perfected, and since he long resided at Huayang, it was fitting to return to the old residence to make offerings and carry out repairs. So craftsmen were summoned to build this tangjing (a hall for Zhaijiao, the purification rituals, and for cultivation practice). It both honors the laws of the Heavenly Emperor and spreads the great Dao. A blue altar stands to the east and a plain pagoda to the west, and between them are the foundations of buildings. The text mentions such construction tasks as burying tiles and casting metal, and then describes purple mist and white fog swirling as if covering the site.

South of the residence is a well dug by the Chief Secretary, and the great pond south of the well is an old work left by Guo Chao. Its water comes from Lord Tian's spring, and its road leads to the old traces of Jiang Ba. The residence rests against Leiping and faces Xiapo. Hills join it on the east, and a long ridge stretches across the north. The streams of Liuwo, Yanggu, and other places all gather to the west. The surrounding region on all four sides is called Jinling, the so-called "lung of the earth" (a place where the earth's Qi gathers). The Chief Secretary's dwelling is especially outstanding.

The author imagines the Chief Secretary soaring on clouds and rainbows, driving cranes to chase the wind. Gazing far over the boundless waves, one sees the old capital gradually receding. The ancients said that if one does not establish great works, by what will later generations pass one's name on? Therefore I respectfully carve this eulogy in stone for the worthy people of the future.

The pivot of Heaven and Earth turns, and the earth spirits breathe out numinous Qi. The myriad things are distributed in their own realms according to their nature, and through spiritual awareness they receive their forms. Their transformations reach the eight directions, and their effects extend across the four seas. Their traces vanish like lightning, and their forms are deep and unfathomable. The mountains encircle, and suddenly clouds spread over the sea. Riding the wind and roaming the waters, their traces remain in the world, yet in truth they travel upon emptiness. A secluded stone chamber was cut by skilled craftsmen, and dwellings were raised upon it. With lofty aspirations and a transcendent bearing, they dwell in a place as splendid as a heavenly palace. The mountains wind and curve, and the land is broad. Five gates open outward, and nine roads circle around. Changyang rests against the ridges, and the waters meet and join. So this place is called the Land of the Hidden Dragon, and His Majesty calls it the Golden Hill.

Long ago, in the Western Han, the Three Perfected Maos came here. In the Eastern Jin, the two Perfected Xus, embracing the true Dao, laid foundations here and dredged wells, dwelling in cultivation and drawing down the spirits. They truly assisted the sacred Dao, and so were granted the post of Attendant of Dawn. The years are now far removed, and their titles and deeds are muddled and hard to verify, but the declarations record them clearly, and the radiance of the immortal spirits has not faded. The temples were about to collapse, the steps were ruined, the courtyard trees were broken by frost, and weeds overgrew the grounds. More than twenty years have passed since the Huayang Abbey was first founded. People recall the work of their predecessors and follow its grand tradition. The Sovereign said, "How good! You shall settle here." So the building and repairs were carried out, and the halls were made splendid and new.

In the magnificent hall deep sounds echo, and incense spreads as though poured from a vase. Within the palace and abbey the jade ornaments and green bamboo slips gleam brightly, and the writing is displayed for later generations. The scriptures (Jing) are stored in jade caskets sealed with jade tablets, surrounded by splendid curtains and embroidered cloths. Orchid lamps shine brightly, and golden censers release fragrance. Tongxiang, Fangzhu, and others practiced the teachings together, confirming one another's pure minds and washing away the dust and defilement of their bodies together. They transcended being and non-being, combining refinement with simplicity. They took the Empty Sovereign as their honored title and the method of right awakening as their standard. Through the refining of medicines their physical forms became pure, and through meditative absorption their wisdom became all-penetrating. They could fly, inspiring reverence and joy, and raising their hands seemed to touch the sun and moon and to clothe them in rainbow light. They rescued people from suffering, cleared away obstacles, and restored clear awareness and acuity. The world says this is the work of outside power, but I think there is no merit to claim.

Past and present are tangled, and Heaven and Earth are vast. The manifestations and transformations of the Three Aspects are illusory, and worldly affairs and bodily forms shift of their own accord. When circumstances arrive, one responds, without acting rashly out of private calculation. So I inscribe this text, to be entered among the records kept by tortoise shell and divination stalks, so that both the human and heavenly realms may see it clearly.

The Dao (the Way) stands above the heavens and earth, before the ten thousand things had taken form, and its name reaches beyond the point at which they began. A realm like this was never something words could explain or names could encompass. Since it can nevertheless be recorded in writing, why carve it into metal and stone to hand down to later generations? Because if it remained hidden and unrevealed, then even though the sun and moon shine upon heaven and earth, the human world would stay long in darkness; and if it remained silent and unspoken, living beings would stay long in confusion. For this reason, in ancient times a man passed out through the Hangu Pass and left behind the two sections of the Daode Jing (Dao De Jing); later, five further scriptures (Jing) were transmitted, so that those endowed with spiritual sensitivity and a grasp of principle might know that within the deep and distant mystery there truly lies a subtle Way.

From then on, generation after generation, there were those who sought the Dao and those who transmitted it. Celestial writings in cloud-seal and dragon-script characters appeared among mountain forests and caverns, and scriptures of splendid diction and profound meaning circulated in the lecture halls. The deeds that set down models for others and were recited by them have continued to our own day. In the early years, at the end of the Han and the beginning of Wei, Gan Shi, Zuo Ci and others all astonished the world; but the talent of the Immortal Duke Ge (Ge Xiangong) was especially outstanding.

The Immortal Duke traveled among many famous mountains in his day, but he lived mostly on this one. This mountain is not one of the Grotto-Heavens or blessed lands, yet it spans a vital region of the Central Plains: looking east, its peaks reach into the sea; looking south, layered ranges rise straight into the clouds; to the west it faces the river, and to the north it lies close to the suburbs of a town. It is both a quiet place for reclusive cultivation and a major thoroughfare for travelers. On the mountain there is a stone well half a xun deep, from which water is drawn every day though no source can be seen, and there was a three-legged white muntjac whose appearance did not change in a hundred years. The spiritual qi (Qi) of this place seems never to have dispersed, and the spirits have always guarded it. Cultivators such as Ma Yi and Shi Zong lived here in succession, and later Sun Weizu followed and made his home here as well.

Pan Hong, courtesy name Wensheng, a native of Shanyin, had lived on the mountain for many years. In his youth he already had a heart set on the Dao, and he was steadfast in will and clear in judgment. He had built Daoist temples at Yuyao, Siming and other places. Later he traveled to a place a hundred li away, along remote and perilous roads; because he had administrative skill and talent, he was deeply respected by the local people. In the seventh year of the Tianjian era of Emperor Wu of Liang, local gentry and old families in turn recommended him for official appointment; he was unwilling, but could not decline. Because the mountain lay at a crossroads of five counties, he had no choice but to leave it and take up his post. Fifteen years later, when he wished to return and live at the altar grounds, he found that there had originally been a blank stele there, long since fallen and broken. Pan Hong reflected that if people cherish even the branches of a tree for its shade, how could the traces left by a true sage like the Immortal Duke Ge be allowed to be buried in oblivion? So he set up a new stele on the original site, hoping to have an inscription carved so that the Immortal Duke's deeds would be passed down for long ages. Tao Hongjing came from a thousand li away to this place and wrote the text on the stone.

The Immortal Duke's surname was Ge, his given name Xuan, and his courtesy name Xiaoxian. He was a native of Jiyang Village, Duxiang, Jurong County, Danyang Commandery, though his family originally came from Langya. In the Eastern Han, the General of Agile Cavalry, Marquis Tong, Lu, yielded his fief to his younger brother, who then moved to this region. The Immortal Duke's seventh-generation ancestor Ge Ai, the younger brother of that general, inherited the title of Marquis Tong. His grandfather Ge Ju served as Grand Administrator of Anping and as Attendant Gentleman of the Yellow Gate; his grand-uncle Ge Mi served as Grand Administrator of five commanderies including Yuzhang; and his father Ge Yan, courtesy name Deru, served as registrar of a province, Magistrate of Shanyin, Cavalry Attendant-in-Ordinary, and Grand Imperial Secretary. The Ge family produced talented people in every generation and was a prominent clan of the Wu region.

From childhood the Immortal Duke was endowed with extraordinary gifts, far surpassing ordinary people, with an eminent bearing and a superior spirit. Ancient classics and Daoist arts seemed to be known to him without study, and he understood them at the slightest hearing. His talent and insight went beyond what conventional rules and ordinary thought could contain; one can only say that he stood outside worldly reason and above the reach of words and images. In the early years of Wu, Zuo Yuanfang came from Luoyang to the Wu region and taught the Immortal Duke arts such as the "Seven Transformations of the White Tiger" and the "Nine Elixirs of the Furnace Fire." From then on he possessed five kinds of supernatural power, and his capacity to transform and instruct reached everywhere.

Although Sun Quan loved and admired matters of immortals and marvels, he was inwardly suspicious and prone to jealousy. Those who spoke of immortals and Daoist arts were often suppressed and rejected; but he stood in awe of the Immortal Duke and often consulted him when matters arose. As the Immortal Duke journeyed across rivers and mountains, dragons and tigers often accompanied and guarded him. He went especially often to the region of Changshan and Gaizhu, also rested at Mount Tiantai and Mount Lanfeng, and sometimes returned to the capital. He treated human affairs as play, and his actions were unfathomable, as though he could topple mountains and rivers. It is said that he once threw out his shining shoes and then stepped upon what fell, and that by shouting at a flock of sheep he made stones stand upright; yet even these wondrous deeds could not surpass his Dao arts.

At that time someone who had gone out to sea was driven by wind and waves onto a boundless ocean and suddenly arrived at a divine island, where he saw a person hand him a letter, on whose envelope was written "To be delivered to the Immortal Duke Ge," and who told him to carry it back to Wu. The story then spread throughout the land, and people honored Ge Xuan with the title "Immortal Duke." This is why Ge Hong wrote in his works, "my grand-uncle the Immortal Duke." By generational order, the Immortal Duke was Ge Hong's grand-uncle three generations removed. Popular classics and commentaries say that the Immortal Duke received a mandate from Taiji (Supreme Ultimate; here the highest heaven in Daoist belief) and held the position of Left Immortal Duke. But this does not fully agree with the accounts in the Zhen'gao (Declarations of the Perfected) and the old Ge family genealogy; perhaps the transmitted accounts contain discrepancies, or perhaps they reflect statements that varied with the time. It is like a guard standing at the palace gate with a halberd: how could one infer from his post alone that he took part in the Peach Banquet or commanded gods and ghosts? Perhaps he merely held a lower office. If one regards these accounts from the standpoint of expedient transformation, there is no need to cling to whether they agree.

On the dawn of the fifteenth day of the eighth month in the seventh year of Chiwu of Wu, a jiazi year, the Immortal Duke ascended as an immortal, and after that he did not return to the human world, often traveling with immortals such as Guo Shengzi. In time to come, he should receive an appointment in Xuandu (the Mysterious Capital, a Daoist realm of the immortals), enjoy a heavenly stipend, assist the four ministers of heaven, and oversee affairs of both the human and spirit realms. When I think of him looking back toward his homeland, perhaps he cannot avoid some feeling of attachment; and in his regard for later students of the Dao, perhaps he also holds a compassion that guides and receives them. I have merely relied on ties of family and village to set down, with reverence, the traces left by this true immortal.

The nine heavens are high and boundless, and the seven tiers of heaven hang suspended in the void. When heaven and earth divided, space and realms took shape; qi (Qi) gathered and became heaven. The ten thousand things grew after number and calculation, and the work of creation stirred before images appeared. Life changes along with the body, while consciousness continues through the deeds one performs. When frost falls on the fields and all things wither, bamboo and parasol trees remain green; springs and hills will in the end vanish, yet Pengzu alone lived long. Life exists because it is conditioned by things, and longevity can be sought through cultivation and study, as metal is refined in the cold, and as silk is woven on the loom.

The Immortal Duke's virtue was like jade, his words and conduct were admonitory, and his talent shone forth richly; he may be spoken of alongside Xiang Tong, and compared with Xiang Ru. He once cultivated body and mind within splendid palace chambers, and he also concentrated his spirit in cultivating the Dao among the green mountains. Having already shown an extraordinary bearing like a fierce tiger, he then rode a dragon and galloped away. He traveled through the Tiantai and Huo mountain regions and rested peacefully beneath the vault of the sky at Mount Lanfeng. The jade-green altar grounds are solemn and pure, and the jade spring flows on without end. He surveyed the fragrant plants and trees, bathed in the Dao, and thought of the ancients; moved in heart, I have therefore carved this lofty stele to exalt the Immortal Duke's noble example for all time.

The Immortal Duke once lodged and rested at Mount Lanfeng, where a great stele has already been erected; but at his former residence here, no steadfast stone had yet been carved. Now his descendants, admiring the Immortal Duke's lofty and pure legacy, respectfully carve this stone and set it up, so that his fair name may be handed down to later generations.

Memorial Requesting Resignation from Office

I have heard that the bearing of Emperor Yao was lofty, and that Xu You left behind, on the sunny bank of the Ying River (its northern shore), the legend of washing his ears and drinking from the stream. I have also heard that in the Han era, when virtuous rule reached in every direction, the aspirations of the recluses of Mount Shang, who fed on spirit mushrooms, were likewise pure and noble. In my early years I lived in seclusion and held no office, yet for many years I have still worn official robes. I did not take office out of attachment to glory, nor did I study in order to wait for a stipend. I have often longed to take off my official cap, leave the court, and till the fields alone beneath the furrowed ridges; to sit by a mountain stream's gate under the moonlight and play the zither among the clouds. At first I received the imperial favor that allowed me to fulfill my wish to return to the mountains and forests. Now I shall withdraw to the Cassia Court and no longer show my face, taking the pines as my companions and meeting them spirit to spirit (shen). Once I have left the court, my native home will be close at hand. When I think of returning, my heart surges, and I weep beside the water. My boat and oars have been cast aside, and I cannot come in person. My longing and devotion are difficult to restrain, and I respectfully submit this memorial to report to you.

The Emperor's Reply Edict

You have shed the entanglements of the world and no longer take ordinary food, yet you still yearn for stillness and emptiness. The mountains are tranquil and leisurely, well suited to settling your nature and enjoying what delights you; you should fulfill your aspirations well. If you need anything, you may submit a memorial and let it be known. I bestow upon you ten bolts of silk, twenty candles, and grain. You still yearn for stillness and emptiness; the mountains are tranquil and leisurely, well suited to settling your nature and enjoying what delights you, and you should fulfill your aspirations well. If you need anything, you may submit a memorial and let it be known. I further bestow upon you ten bolts of silk, twenty candles, and other goods. Each month I will supply you with five jin of superior poria and two dou of white honey, to be used in preparing the medicines you take.

Preface Presenting the Record of Zhou's Communion with the Hidden (Zhoushi Mingtong Ji)

Late in the tenth month of last year, I suddenly learned of the matter concerning Master Zhou. It was a time of fasting and purification, so I could not at once submit a report. I have now respectfully compiled the matter into four scrolls and present them separately. Clouded by doubt, I did not believe and awaken to it early. Looking back, I feel deep self-reproach and sorrow, and I am willing to accept punishment. As to the circumstances, Yuanwen has already set them out one by one. I humbly beg you to forgive my momentary negligence and slackness. I respectfully report this.

The Emperor's Reply Edict

I have read your memorial, and I have also seen the deeds and true words Master Zhou left behind. They clearly accord with the earlier edicts, and two or three passages are plain and certain, which makes them all the more remarkable. The four scrolls are now kept here. Yuanwen has also described one or two matters in detail, which only leaves one the more astonished.

Poem/Discourse on Taking Leave of the Journey (Gao You Pian)

Spiritual nature first began to manifest long ago, and karmic conditions and their consequences have continued for a long time. The transformations of life do not end in complete annihilation; by reason, the mind should remain calm and untouched by sorrow or joy. Caps and swords are merely the empty outward shadows of robes and headwear left behind; what the ornaments of the carriage and horses signify is the body of the immortal. I depart from here, taking leave of immortals such as Zhao and Xuan, and go to the Immortal Terrace of Yingzhou to become a guest there. If it should be possible...

Poem/Discourse on Taking Leave of the Journey (Gao You Pian)

The nature-spirit (xingling, the spiritual nature of a person) took root long ago, and the merits of generation after generation have been handed down over time. A change of bodily form is not the same as utter extinction; once one understands this principle, one can regard sorrow and joy with equanimity. Caps and swords leave behind only the empty shadow of garments, while what the carriage and its retinue carry is the body of an immortal. Leave this place, follow the proponents of the Emperors Zhao and Xuan, and befriend the immortal guests of Yingtai (a legendary mountain of the immortals). If you can walk the road your predecessors left behind, I will explain for you the subtle bridges and fords of the profound.

Rhapsody on the Immortal Wind Above the Clouds

The immortal drifts far away. In a single morning he crosses the emerald sea and soars into the rosy dawn, rising above the blue mist and spreading across the whole sky. Emerging from the Dragon Gate, he stirs up waves; passing over the Onion Range pass, he sets flying snow swirling behind him. The carriages of Han lands tremble at this, and even the moon's course seems startled by the brilliance of his radiance. He floats through the void and enters the sunlight, ascends to the heights and rides the clouds. In a single leap he flies ten thousand li, in less than half a day. This is the wind ridden by Liezi, which still relies on something.

As for the wind that embraces the universe and pervades the heavenly signs, it circulates through the eight directions and turns through the four seasons. Qi (vital energy) stirs with the seasons, and the wind passes the quarter of Xun (the Bagua position representing wind) and then reaches the Ji constellation (a lunar lodge). People can see only its comings and goings; they cannot fathom when it begins or when it ends. This is the wind of the Great Void, moving of its own accord and acting through non-action (wuwei).

Stele of the Changsha Lodge on Mount Mao

The myriad phenomena stand arrayed side by side, and none departs from the transforming nurture of Yin-Yang and the two modes. The many systems of law arose one after another, and none went beyond the bounds of the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Scholars who wear the official sash set the rites in order within the palace halls, while upright and lofty men proclaim the Daoist ethos of emptiness and non-being.

Stele of the Changsha Lodge on Mount Mao

The myriad phenomena stand arrayed side by side, and none departs from the transforming nurture of Yin-Yang and the two modes. The many systems of law arose one after another, and none went beyond the bounds of the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Scholars who wear the official sash set the rites in order within the palace halls, while upright and lofty men raise their banners in the mountains and borderlands and spread their teaching.

The inscription says: Great is Qianyuan (the primal generative energy of Heaven), from which the myriad things begin to grow. Sovereigns receive the mandate of Heaven, and so Heaven, Earth, and humanity each find their proper order. The sage communes with the spirits, and the spirits send down blessings. His kindness is passed down in song and music, and his fame is recorded in charts and histories. Brothers live in harmony and affection, and reverently spread the teaching. They recount the abundant virtue of their predecessors, in order to make manifest the legacy of their forebears. They carefully follow the old institutions while removing burdensome regulations. Carved in stone, this will endure without decay, so that future generations may pass on its fair name from age to age.

Stele of the Rimen Lodge on Mount Taiping

The name "Sun Gate Lodge" (Rimen Guan) means to bind the rays of dawn, open up radiance, cleave the mountain rock, and draw in lamplight. Earlier, Du Zhengjun of Haojun (a "summoned gentleman," a recluse called to court who declined office) had a reputation that surpassed that of two generations, and his virtue was unequaled in all quarters. The teachings he proclaimed spread widely and reached several commanderies. He built dwellings in a land of peace and settled in a hut north of Mount Qing. Because the place was secluded and uncommonly beautiful, he chose another site and built a lodge there. Many practitioners of the Dao (the Way) have lived and gathered here, and many years have now passed.

Inscription for Qulin Lodge on Mount Mao

Layer upon layer of mountain ridges rise outside, while the deep halls of the lodge shine within. Hidden grottoes open to one side, and the winding spring is like a distant bright mirror. The people here honor De (Virtue) and follow benevolence and righteousness; they pray for long life and a peaceful span of years. One might say they dwell between heaven and earth, or that they have risen above the common world and come near to the realm of the sages. The buildings stand in a continuous row, and all who live in them claim to understand the great Dao. The scriptural arts they study differ from one another, and their literary styles vary in quality. Who can compare with Qulin Lodge, which alone displays such strength and beauty? Here one hides one's traces, withdraws from worldly achievement, and keeps to this place until old age.

Reply to Secretary Xie

The beauty of mountains and rivers has been spoken of by people since ancient times. Lofty peaks rise straight into the clouds, and the clear streams are transparent to the very bottom. The stone cliffs on both banks glow with interwoven colors, and the green forests and emerald bamboo are complete with scenery in every season. As the morning mist is about to lift, monkeys and birds cry out together; as the setting sun is about to sink, fish in the water leap up in competition. This is truly a fairyland among mortals. Since Xie Lingyun, no one has been able to appreciate the wonder of this scenery.

The dark bird has long perched on the thorn branch, gazing up at the colored clouds in the blue sky. Now the spring flowers are in full bloom, and the plants, trees, and rocks all look bright and lovely. Your writing stirred my heart, and our feelings and aspirations speak to one another. Only now do I believe that the praise of your virtue (De) among your neighbors was no empty talk.

Though you live close by, in a vermilion pavilion, your heart longs for Mount Dai (the region around Mount Tai). But is it only a matter of letting down your hair on the high peaks, or of facing the flying frost in deep valleys? This truly deserves respect. I am a rustic of the mountains, fortunate enough to lodge among the high peaks and live in seclusion within the tall forest. Whenever I face the bright moon, I cannot help sighing, and whenever I stand in the wind, I am often moved to lament. If I could cast off the burdens of worldly affairs, my mind would naturally be broad and open. But my looks are fading, and they will not wait for me. Unless one regards life and death as returning to the same one, who would not feel anxious about this?

Everyone in the world is busy and hurried, so who can share this heart with me? If I met someone who truly knew me, we could confide our worries to one another. If I could visit Lord Yu and spend the rest of my life there, I could then depart far beyond the world. Why, then, should I fret and rush about like this, drumming on an earthenware jar merely to amuse myself? When leisure comes, I will take up the work of returning to the root and restoring the True. Would that not keep the integrity of my earlier years unstained, and spare me shame before the lofty recluses of former ages?

Reply to Zhao Yingcai

You have achieved great distinction in the world of learning, and your talent is known far and wide. Yet you will not go knocking at doors to seek office, and you are too unhurried to pursue advancement through diligent study. So you live in seclusion among gardens and lanes, passing leisurely between the countryside and the town. The "proud guest" (Aobin) of whom the ancients spoke must have been someone like you.

I am a humble man beneath the cliffs, holding only to my own aspirations. This is not because I deliberately despise glory or mock the customs of the world, nor because I consciously seek a life of reclusion among the rosy clouds. I simply follow my own nature and keep to my useless self in order to find tranquility. Gathering firewood and drawing water already bring me many joys. Apart from burning pine and boiling wood, what other affairs could I have? I also hold that heaven and earth are like a single house, that all things return together to transformation, and that principles such as life and death, good and evil, can all be heard and understood.

Preface to the Xiang Jing (Classic of Physiognomy)

A person's nature and life (xingming) show themselves in the body and bone structure, and good or ill fortune appears in complexion and bearing. This is much like an undertaking that must be planned before it is carried out: a thought arises first in the mind, and only then does a response appear outwardly. The inner and the outer move one another in mutual resonance, though the reason behind it is hard to explain.

Yet wealth and rank, long life or early death, each have their appointed measure. Dong Xian had barely reached the age of ruoguan (around twenty) when his office surpassed that of the Three Excellencies, and his family fortune rivaled that of a state; but before he was much past thirty, he was ruined and his house destroyed. Feng Tang sat in the Langshu (the government office where officials served) until his chair wore through, and Yang Xiong spent year after year in his high pavilion reading and writing; both found their opportunity only in old age. Some enjoy rich delicacies only when old, yet hold no higher post than weishi (a minor clerk). Some are as brilliant as child prodigies, yet live only a short time. Others cannot tell beans from wheat, yet live long and in peace. These examples show that a person's destiny often proves true only in certain respects.