《淮南鸿烈解》Vol. 8

A man was fond of eating fish, yet refused to accept fish offered to him. Why? The answer is that he refused precisely because he loved eating fish. If he accepted the fish and thereby lost his position as chancellor, he might love fish, but he would no longer be able to provide it for himself over the long term. By refusing the gift and keeping his office, he could continue to supply himself with fish for years to come. This shows that in conducting oneself in the world, one should take one’s long-term interests into account. Thus the Laozi says, “Put yourself behind, and you will come to the front; put yourself beyond concern, and you will preserve yourself.” Is this not a case of setting aside selfish motives and thereby securing one’s own interests? Another saying puts it this way: “Those who know contentment will not suffer humiliation.”

The elder Hugu Qiu—an old man who walked with a staff—said to Sun Shuao, “Do you know the three misfortunes that bring resentment upon a person?” Sun Shuao asked, “What are they?” Hugu Qiu replied, “When your rank is high, scholars will envy you; when your office is great, your ruler may dislike you; when your stipend is generous, resentment will gather around you.” Sun Shuao said, “The higher my rank, the more humble my aims; the greater my office, the more cautious my mind; the larger my stipend, the more widely I give. In this way, can I avoid those three misfortunes?” Thus the Laozi says, “The noble must take the lowly as its root; the lofty must take what lies below as its foundation.”

The Grand Marshal once encountered an old man hammering out fishing hooks. The man was already eighty, yet he still made each hook with perfect accuracy. The Grand Marshal asked, “Are you especially skilled, or have you mastered some particular method?” The old man replied, “I have a way of concentrating my attention. Since I was twenty, I have loved forging hooks. Whenever I do this work, I look at nothing else; I attend only to the hook. Thus, to make use of something, one must first know how not to be burdened by it; only then can one make use of it over time. How much more so if one can maintain this attitude of nonattachment? What, then, could one fail to accomplish?” Thus the Laozi says, “Those who engage themselves in the Dao become one with the Dao.”

King Wen of Zhou (Ji Chang) cultivated his virtue and put government affairs in order. After three years, nearly two-thirds of the feudal lords under Heaven had submitted to him. “To hone” means to polish and refine. King Wen controlled two-thirds of the realm’s territory.

When King Zhou heard this, he grew anxious and said, “If I rise early and retire late, matching his efforts in governing, I will exhaust myself. But if I let matters take their course, I fear he will attack me.” Chong Houhu advised him: “Count Bochang of Zhou practices benevolence and righteousness and is skilled at planning. The Crown Prince Fa is brave and decisive; his second son, Dan, is respectful and frugal, and understands the times. If you let them continue to grow, you will be unable to withstand the trouble they bring. If you spare King Wen, you will surely put yourself in danger. Even if a hat is worn out, one still has to wear it on one’s head. While their power has not yet grown, quickly find a way to deal with them.” So Qu Shang, a minister of King Zhou, imprisoned King Wen at Youli, a place in Tangyin, Henei.

To rescue King Wen, San Yisheng spent a thousand units of gold searching throughout the realm for rare treasures. He obtained the Zouyu, a legendary white tiger with black markings, said to be gentle and to eat only animals that had died naturally, and to travel a thousand li in a day; Jisi, a divine steed; as well as dark jade, shells made by skilled artisans, large cowrie shells, a black leopard, a yellow bear, a blue wild dog, and white tiger skins. The phrases “two pieces of jade make one gong” and “five shells make one peng” refer to units used at the time for measuring precious objects. San Yisheng presented these gifts to King Zhou and used Fei Zhong, one of the king’s sycophantic ministers, to smooth the way. Delighted by what he saw, King Zhou released King Wen and even had an ox slaughtered for him.

After returning, King Wen built a gate adorned with jade and a spirit tower, selected young women, and had bells and drums played. He did this while waiting for the moment when King Zhou would lose the people’s support. The phrase “examined the young women” has two interpretations: one is that he selected and inspected young women; the other is that he inspected the craftsmen.

When King Zhou heard of these things, he said, “Count Bochang of Zhou has changed his course and his methods, so I have nothing more to worry about.” He then imposed the punishment of roasting people over a heated bronze pillar, cut open Bi Gan’s chest to examine his heart, cut open pregnant women’s bellies, and killed those who remonstrated with him. King Wen therefore continued to advance his plans.

That is why the Laozi says: “Know what is glorious, yet remain steadfast in disgrace; willingly take the lower position, and you can become the valley of the world.”

King Cheng of Zhou consulted Yin Yi, the court historian, on the Dao of governing the state: “How should I put virtuous rule into practice so that the people will feel close to their ruler?” Yin Yi replied, “Have the people work at the proper times, and govern them with respect and gentleness.”

King Cheng asked, “Where should the principles of government be placed?” Yin Yi said, “Be as cautious as if standing at the edge of an abyss or walking on thin ice.” The king sighed, “Being a ruler is truly worrying!” Yin Yi replied, “Between Heaven and Earth, throughout the Four Seas, if a ruler treats the people well, they will be his support; if he treats them poorly, they will become his enemies. In the past, the people of the Xia and Shang turned their backs on Jie and Zhou and submitted instead to Kings Tang and Wu. The people of Shusha, too, once attacked their ruler and joined Shennong. Between Fuxi and Shennong, figures such as Gonggong and Shusha also ruled the world. These are all well-known events. Since the people may attack their ruler and turn to someone else, how can a ruler fail to be cautious? Thus the Laozi says: ‘What people fear, a ruler cannot help but fear as well.’”

A disciple of Zhi asked him, “Does being a bandit also have its Dao?” Zhi replied, “What occupation does not have its own principles? Being able to predict and locate where valuables are hidden is ‘sagacity’; being the first to go in is ‘courage’; being the last to withdraw is ‘righteousness’; dividing the spoils equally is ‘benevolence’; knowing whether an opportunity is worth taking is ‘wisdom.’ None of these five abilities can be missing. Only with all of them can one become a great bandit. It follows that even bandits must rely on the principles taught by the sages to accomplish their aims. Thus the Laozi says: ‘Cast aside what is called sagacity and cleverness, and the people will gain a hundredfold.’”

The Chu general Zifa liked to gather people with unusual abilities around him. A skilled thief from Chu came to see him and said, “I hear that you are seeking people with talents. I know how to steal, and I am willing to serve you with this skill.” When Zifa heard this, he went out to welcome him before he had even fastened his belt or straightened his hat, and treated him with respect.

Those around him urged him, “A thief is a robber of the realm. Why are you treating him with such courtesy?” Zifa replied, “This is something you cannot understand.”

Before long, Qi sent troops to attack Chu. Zifa led his army to meet them, but the Chu forces were driven back three times in succession. Chu’s worthy ministers exhausted their strategies and offered all their sincerity, yet the Qi army continued to grow stronger.

At that point, the skilled thief stepped forward and asked to be given a task. “I have a small skill,” he said. “I am willing to put it to use for you.” Zifa agreed. Without asking what he planned to do, he sent him off.

That night, the thief took down the Qi commander’s canopy—the tent used in camp for shelter and enclosure—and brought it back. Zifa immediately sent someone to return it, with this message: “Some soldiers out gathering firewood found your canopy and have brought it back to you.” The next day, the thief went again and took the commander’s pillow. Once more, Zifa sent someone to return it. A day later, the thief took the commander’s hairpin, and Zifa again had it sent back.

When the Qi army heard what had happened, they were greatly alarmed. The commander and his officers conferred: “If we do not retreat today, the ruler of Chu may soon be taking our heads.” So the Qi army withdrew.

Thus, no skill is so small that it cannot be of use; what matters is whether a ruler knows how to put it to good use. Laozi said, “Those who are not good can serve as resources for the good.” In other words, even those who are not skilled in the right way may prove useful in the hands of someone who knows how to employ others.

Yan Hui said to Confucius, “I have made further progress.” Confucius asked, “What do you mean?” Yan Hui replied, “I have forgotten ritual and music.” Confucius said, “That is good, but it is not enough.”

The next day, Yan Hui came to see Confucius again and said, “I have made further progress.” Confucius asked, “What do you mean?” Yan Hui replied, “I have forgotten benevolence and righteousness.” Confucius said, “That is good, but it is not enough.”

Another day passed, and Yan Hui came to see Confucius and said, “I have now attained ‘sitting in forgetfulness.’” Sitting in forgetfulness means forgetting one’s own body while sitting quietly, in order to accord with the Great Dao.

Confucius asked eagerly, “What does sitting in forgetfulness mean?” Yan Hui replied, “I no longer let my limbs be governed by conscious thought. I set aside the cleverness of the senses, leave behind the constraints of bodily form, and relinquish discriminating thought. My mind becomes open to the transformations of all things. This is called sitting in forgetfulness.”

Confucius said, “To be open to transformation is to cling no longer to good or evil; to follow transformation is to have no fixed state. You have already entered the realm of the worthy ahead of me. I would like to follow behind you and learn.”

That is why Laozi said, “Can you carry the body and soul and hold to the One without letting them part? Can you concentrate your Qi and reach gentleness, like an infant?” Here, “carrying the soul and embracing the One” means bringing body and soul into harmony and holding single-mindedly to the Dao. “Concentrating the Qi and reaching gentleness” means focusing on cultivating vital energy until body and mind attain a state of gentleness.

Duke Mu of Qin sent out an army, intending to attack the state of Zheng. Jian Shu urged him not to do so. “It will not work,” he said. “I have heard that when making a surprise attack on another state, an army traveling by chariot should not go more than a hundred li, and an army marching on foot should not go more than thirty li. At that distance, the plan will not yet have leaked, weapons will not yet have worn out, provisions will not yet have run low, and the soldiers will not yet be exhausted or ill. People attack when their morale is high and their strength is full; that is how they intimidate the enemy. I have heard that an army making a surprise attack should not travel more than a hundred li by chariot or thirty li on foot. That is why. Now you intend to travel thousands of li and cross the lands of several feudal lords to attack Zheng. I do not know whether this can succeed. Please consider it carefully once more.”

Duke Mu did not heed him. As the army set out, Jian Shu saw it off in mourning clothes and a mourning sash, weeping. The Qin army continued east, passing through the royal domain of the Zhou house. A Zheng merchant named Xian Gao, pretending to act on the order of the Earl of Zheng, the ruler of Zheng, presented the Qin army with twelve oxen and received them with the courtesies due to honored guests. The army’s three commanders grew wary and conferred: “We have traveled thousands of li to attack another state, yet before we have even reached Zheng, they already know we are coming. Their defenses must be fully prepared, so a surprise attack is impossible.” They then withdrew.

At that time, Duke Wen of Jin had just died and had not yet been buried. Xian Zhen, a senior Jin official, said to Duke Wen’s son, Duke Xiang of Jin: “In the past, our late ruler and Duke Mu of Qin were on friendly terms. Everyone in the world knew it, as did the rulers of the various states. Now our ruler has died and still lies unburied, yet Qin has neither sent condolences nor asked Jin for passage through its territory. This is as good as putting our ruler to death and bullying his young heir. Please allow us to attack the Qin army.” Duke Xiang agreed.

Xian Zhen led the troops into battle with the Qin army at Xiao. They routed it, captured the soldiers from all three Qin divisions, and brought them back to Jin. When Duke Mu of Qin heard what had happened, he put on plain mourning clothes, wept in the ancestral temple, and acknowledged his fault before the people.

The Laozi says: “To know, yet appear not to know, is wisdom. Not to know, yet think that one knows, is a flaw.”

After the Queen of Qi died, the King of Qi wanted to appoint another queen but could not make up his mind, so he asked his ministers to discuss it. Lord Xue (Tian Ying) wanted to anticipate the king’s wishes, so he presented him with ten pairs of earrings, one of them especially exquisite. The next day, he took the opportunity to ask where the exquisite pair was, then urged the king to appoint its owner as queen. The King of Qi was delighted and valued Lord Xue even more.

Thus, once a ruler’s intentions are revealed, his ministers can gain control over him. This is why Laozi says, “Block the openings of the senses and close the gates of desire, and you will never be troubled throughout your life.”

Lu Ao, a man of Yan whom Qin Shi Huang once summoned to serve as a court scholar and ordered to seek immortals, later fled and never returned. He traveled through the Northern Sea, passed through the Great Yin region in the north, entered the Dark Gate Mountains, and climbed Mount Meng Valley. There he encountered an extraordinary man: his eye sockets were deep-set, his temples black, and tears streamed endlessly down his face. His shoulders hunched like an eagle’s; his upper body was broad and his lower body thin. He danced lightly into the wind. When the man saw Lu Ao, he lowered his arms and hid behind a stone stele.

Lu Ao approached and saw him curled up like a turtle, eating shellfish. He said to him, “Am I, Lu Ao, the only one who can let everything go, withdraw from the crowds, and travel beyond the four quarters of Heaven and Earth? I have loved traveling since childhood, and I did not change as I grew up. I have journeyed throughout the four directions, with only the distant northern wilderness left unexplored. Now, at last, I have met you here. Surely you could be my friend?”

The extraordinary man laughed and replied, “Alas, you are a man of the Central Plains. How could you have come all this way? The places you have visited are still lit by the sun and moon, still crossed by the stars, and still subject to the movement of Yin-Yang and the passage of the seasons. Compared with the nameless place, this is no more than a corner at the back of a room.

“I once traveled south to the wilds of Gangshi, rested in the north in the land of Chenmo, journeyed west to the farthest edge of the dim and obscure, and saw the dawn of Hongmeng in the east. In those places there is no earth below or sky above, no sound to hear and no form to see. Even beyond them, there are vast, boundless waters. Beyond those waters, a single step spans ten million miles. Yet even so, I have not reached the end. You have only just begun your travels, yet you say you have seen the farthest reaches. How far short you still fall!

“Stay here. I have an appointment with Hanman, in the unknowable realm, and must go beyond the Nine Heavens. I cannot remain long.”

The extraordinary man raised his arm and leapt up, then entered the clouds. Lu Ao looked up, but could no longer see him, so he stopped his carriage. He felt frustrated, as if he had lost something, and said, “Compared with you, I am like a wild swan beside a larva. I have traveled all day without leaving a space as small as a foot, yet thought I had gone far. How pitiable!”

Thus Zhuangzi says, “The small cannot keep up with the great, and little wisdom cannot keep up with great wisdom. The morning mushroom knows nothing of the beginning or end of the month; the cicada knows nothing of spring or autumn.” This means that there are always limits to what people can know.

Jizi, also known as Zijian and a disciple of Confucius, governed Zhifu for three years. Wuma Qi, another of Confucius’s disciples, dressed in coarse cloth, altered his appearance, and secretly went to observe how the people there were being taught.

He saw a fisherman release the small fish he had caught back into the water, and asked him, “You fish in order to catch fish. Why catch them and then let them go?”

The fisherman replied, “Jizi does not want people to catch small fish. In ancient times, fish less than a foot long were not placed on the table for sacrifices or banquets. The fish I caught were all small, so I released them.”

Wuma Qi returned and told Confucius, “Jizi’s De (Virtue/Power) is truly profound. He can make people act at night with the same caution they would show if severe punishment were being enforced beside them. How has Jizi managed this?”

Confucius said, “I once asked him how he governed. He said, ‘If you instruct people here, they will observe the law elsewhere.’ Jizi must have put this method into practice. That is why Laozi said, ‘Leave one side aside and take up the other.’”

The point here is that teaching can lead people to follow rules of their own accord: even without anyone watching, they act in accordance with them. The final phrase, “leave one side aside and take up the other,” means to abandon one course and choose another. Here, it refers to using teaching to cultivate self-discipline.

A watery sprite formed from fine vital energy asked a shadow, “Is that bright thing a spirit?” The sprite could make little sense of what it saw. When the shadow appeared, it took it for a spirit. The shadow replied, “No.” The sprite asked, “How do you know?”

The shadow said, “Fusang, the mythical tree where the sun rises, receives the sunlight, and the sun shines over heaven and earth. Fusang takes in the sun’s radiance, and the dawn light rises from there. Its brilliance illuminates the four seas. Shut the doors and block the windows, and sunlight can no longer enter. Fusang receives the sunlight, and the sun shines over heaven and earth. Fusang takes in the sun’s radiance, and the dawn light rises from there. Its brilliance illuminates the four seas. Shut the doors and block the windows, and sunlight can no longer enter. The spirit, by contrast, reaches in every direction and flows without end; there is nowhere it cannot go. It joins heaven above and settles upon the earth below, nurturing and transforming the myriad things, yet it cannot be represented by any concrete form. Between one bow and one lift of the head, it can touch what lies beyond the four seas. How could a mere brightness explain the spirit?”

Thus Laozi said, “The softest thing in the world can move swiftly through what is hardest in the world.”

Radiance asked Nonbeing, “Does the unseen ‘Nonbeing,’ which has no light, truly exist, or does it not exist at all?” Nonbeing did not answer. Radiance approached to examine what it was like. It was dim and indistinct, with no visible form. He listened, but heard no sound. He reached out to touch it, but felt nothing. He gazed into the distance, but could see no end.

Radiance exclaimed, “How wondrous! Who could attain such a state? I can make what has form invisible, but I still cannot make ‘formlessness’ itself disappear. If even ‘formlessness’ could cease to exist, where could one begin to attain such a state?” Thus the Laozi says, “Nonbeing can enter where there is no gap.” From this I understand that Wuwei (non-action, following things as they are without forcing them) truly brings benefit. Perhaps this is what it means.

Bai Gong Sheng was plotting a rebellion in his heart. Seeking revenge for his father, he launched an armed revolt, having brooded over it beforehand. After withdrawing from court, he stood leaning on his riding whip. A sharp pin at the tip of the whip, called a zhui, pierced his chin by accident. Blood ran to the ground, yet he did not notice. When the people of Zheng heard of this, they said, “If he can forget that his chin is wounded, what could he not forget?” Bai Gong’s father had been killed by Zheng Yu of Zheng, so Bai Gong had long been consumed by thoughts of revenge.

The point is that when the spirit scatters outward and the mind is disturbed by inward schemes, one neglects to care for one’s own body. When the spirit is occupied with things far away, things close at hand are easily forgotten; here, “close at hand” means oneself. Thus the Laozi says, “Without going out the door, one can know all under Heaven; without looking out the window, one can understand the Way of Heaven. The farther one travels, the less one knows.” This is precisely the point.

After Qin Shi Huang unified the realm, he feared that his regime might not endure. He therefore conscripted border troops, built the Great Wall, repaired passes and bridges, established checkpoints and fortresses, prepared relay vehicles, and stationed officials along the borders. Yet the Liu clan still seized the realm. It was like giving a closed bamboo strip a slight nudge and watching it flip open.

“Closed bamboo strip” refers to a lattice-like piece of bamboo, which could also be woven into a thin mat. It is easy to turn over. The image shows that the more meticulously defenses are arranged, the more they may reveal the ruler’s limited understanding.

In the past, after King Wu of Zhou defeated King Zhou of Shang at Muye, he repaired Bi Gan’s tomb, erected a marker in Shang Rong’s neighborhood to honor him, and protected Jizi’s gate with bundles of wood. After King Zhou died, Jizi fled to Korea, leaving his former home empty, so King Wu had it enclosed with wood. King Wu also made offerings at the ancestral temple of Tang of Shang, opened the granaries at Juqiao to feed the people, and distributed the wealth from Lutai. He smashed the war drums and broke their stands, loosened the bowstrings, and discarded the bows and arrows. He slept outdoors, away from his residence, to show that he was approachable; he removed his sword and tablet to show that he bore no resentment. The people of the realm praised and supported him as a result, and the feudal lords came to pay court with gifts. The Zhou dynasty therefore lasted for thirty-four generations without losing the realm.

Thus Laozi says, “One skilled at closing a door can make it impossible to open without using a bolt; one skilled at tying knots can make them impossible to undo without using a rope.”

Yin Xu studied chariot driving, but after three years he still had not mastered it. Deeply troubled, he would often lie down and ponder it over and over, devoting himself to it even at night. One night, he dreamed that his teacher taught him “Autumn Driving,” a superior method of chariot driving. The next day, he went to see his teacher. Looking at him, the teacher said, “It was not that I was unwilling to teach you the art of driving. I was only concerned that you could not yet grasp it. Today, I will teach you Autumn Driving.” Yin Xu turned away, stepped back, and bowed twice facing north. “I am truly fortunate,” he said. “I learned it in a dream last night.”

Thus Laozi says, “Bring the mind to the utmost stillness, and hold steadfast to profound quiet. All things grow and change together; from this I observe how they return to their source.”

In the past, Sun Shuao served three times as Lingyin, the highest official in the state of Chu, without showing joy; and three times he left office without looking sorrowful. Jizha of Yanling, a prince of Wu, was chosen by the people of Wu to be their king but refused to accept. Xu You declined the rule of the world and did not take it. When the Qi minister Yan Ying swore an alliance with Cui Zhu, he stood at the brink of life and death yet remained composed. These people all understood the principles that reach far into the future. If the spirit can understand life and death, what could possibly bewilder it?

A man from Chu named Ci Fei obtained a precious sword in the state of Gan, an ancient state near present-day Linhuai. On his return, as he crossed the river, huge waves suddenly rose around the middle of the stream. Two jiaolong coiled around the boat, and everyone aboard was thrown into panic. Ci Fei asked the boatman, “Has anyone ever survived a situation like this?” The boatman replied, “I have never seen it happen.”

Ci Fei then closed his eyes, roused himself with a sudden effort, rolled up his sleeves, and drew his sword. “A warrior may be persuaded through the rites of benevolence and righteousness, but cannot be coerced into surrendering what is his. These jiaolong are no more than rotting flesh and decayed bones in the river. What is there to regret in throwing away a sword?” He leapt into the river, attacked the jiaolong, and cut off their heads. Everyone aboard was saved, and the wind and waves subsided. The king of Chu therefore granted Ci Fei the title of Zhigui, a high rank in Chu.

When Confucius heard of this, he remarked, “The one who was skilled at bearing a load, regarded the jiaolong as rotting flesh and decayed bones, and cast aside his sword to face danger—this must be Ci Fei.” Thus Laozi said, “Only those who do not prize the preservation of life too highly are more worthy than those who cherish life.”

Chunyu Kun, a man of Qi, tried to persuade the King of Wei with the doctrine of vertical alliances, and the king debated with him. Chunyu Kun prepared ten chariots and was about to set out as an envoy to Chu. After taking his leave of the King of Wei, he was ready to depart. Someone said that he had not yet fully explained the case for vertical alliances, so he again tried to persuade the king, this time with the doctrine of horizontal alliances, though his words were the same as before. “Vertical alliances” meant that the feudal lords should join together; “horizontal alliances” held that vertical alliances were mistaken and should be replaced by a different strategy. The King of Wei therefore ordered him to cancel his journey. Others again said that he had not fully explained the case for vertical alliances, so he spoke once more about horizontal alliances, repeating the same arguments. In the end, the king not only refused to let him go but also distanced himself from him.

He had neither strengthened the King of Wei’s resolve to pursue vertical alliances nor brought about horizontal alliances. That was why he failed. Speech needs a central purpose, and action needs a firm foundation. Without either, knowing a great deal is less useful than knowing little but remaining focused.

Thus, the image of the craftsman Chui was carved on a bronze tripod from the Zhou dynasty, but the carver injured his finger. The former kings used this to show that making an excessive display of skill is unwise. Shen Dao, a Warring States thinker, said that a craftsman may know how to build a door without understanding what a door is for. Shen Dao, whose personal name was Dao, was from Qi. Without understanding what matters about a door, one cannot truly build one well. One must therefore first close the door to understand how to build it; what matters about the door is, paradoxically, outside it.

Tian Jiu, a disciple of the Mohists—those who studied Mozi’s teachings—wanted to pay a visit to King Hui of Qin. He prepared his horses and chariot, tightened the chariot’s crossbar, and remained in Qin for a full year, yet never managed to see the king. One must first close the door to understand how to build it; what matters about the door is, paradoxically, outside it.

There was a man named Tian Jiu among the Mohists who studied Mozi’s teachings. He wanted to pay a visit to King Hui of Qin, so he prepared his carriage and horses and tightened the carriage shafts. He stayed in Qin for a whole year, yet never managed to see the king. Later, someone recommended him to the king of Chu, and he went to Chu to pay him a visit. The king of Chu took a great liking to him, gave him a tally of authority, and sent him as an envoy to Qin. When Tian Jiu arrived, the tally granted by the king of Chu enabled him to meet King Hui of Qin at once. The king also received him warmly.

After leaving the palace and returning to his lodging, Tian Jiu sighed and said to his attendants, “I stayed in Qin for three years without being able to see its king. I never imagined that, with a tally from Chu, I would meet him by way of Chu.” Sometimes things seem close but are actually far away; what seems far away may, in fact, bring us closer. Thus, people of great insight are not constrained by fixed rules in their conduct. They need only achieve their aim.

This is like Guan Zhong’s saying, “An owl takes flight, yet a cord is tied to it.” The movements and fortunes of people of ability follow no fixed pattern and cannot be constrained by rigid standards. If you hold a flying bird by a cord from below and still expect it to soar freely, that is impossible.

The Feng River is a thousand fathoms deep, yet it cannot contain dust and dirt. Cast gold, iron, needles, or cords into the water, and their outlines will appear on its surface. The river is neither shallow nor unclear, yet fish, turtles, dragons, and snakes are all unwilling to dwell there. For the same reason, crops do not grow on bare rock, and no elk roam a barren mountain: there is nowhere to find shelter or concealment.

Long ago, Zhao Wenzi asked Shuxiang, “Among the six high-ranking ministers of Jin, which will be the first to fall?” The six were Han, Wei, Zhao, the Fan clan, the Zhonghang clan, and the Zhi clan. Shuxiang replied, “The Zhonghang and Zhi clans.” Zhao Wenzi asked why. Shuxiang said, “When they govern, they mistake harshness for discernment, coercion for acuity, treating subordinates cruelly for loyalty, and elaborate scheming for achievement. It is like stretching leather to make an object: the more you stretch it, the more likely it is to tear.”

That is why Laozi said, “When government orders are lenient and indistinct, the people are simple and honest; when they are exacting and tightly enforced, the people lose their honesty.”

Duke Jing of Qi asked the Grand Diviner, an official responsible for divination, “What can your skill do?” The Grand Diviner replied, “I can make the earth tremble.” The duke asked, “Can you really make the earth tremble?” Yanzi remained silent and did not answer.

After leaving, Yanzi met the Grand Diviner and said to him, “Some time ago, I saw Gou Xing, a ‘guest star’ as the ancients called it, appear between the Fang and Xin lunar mansions. Does that mean the earth is about to tremble?” The Fang and Xin are names of ancient constellations. The Grand Diviner said, “Yes.”

After Yanzi left, the Grand Diviner hurried to see Duke Jing and said, “I cannot make the earth tremble; it was going to tremble of its own accord.” Tian Ziyang, a minister of Qi, heard about this and said, “Yanzi stayed silent at the time because he did not want the Grand Diviner to lose his life over it. Later, he went to see the Grand Diviner because he feared the duke would deceive him. Yanzi was loyal to his ruler and kind to those beneath him.”

Thus Laozi said, “Be upright without injuring others; be incorruptible without wounding them.” This means that even when we conduct ourselves with integrity and purity, we should avoid causing others harm as a result.

Duke Wen of Wei held a banquet for his ministers at Quyang. As the wine flowed and the gathering reached its high point, he sighed, “It is a pity that I do not have a minister like Yu Rang.” Yu Rang had once served the Zhi clan and later died for them, so Duke Wen wished to make him his own minister.

His minister Jian Zhong raised his cup in a toast to Duke Wen and said, “I ask you to drink a cup as punishment.” Here, “floating” meant imposing a penalty of wine. Duke Wen asked, “Why should I be punished?” Jian Zhong replied, “I have heard that even when Heaven gives parents a son, they may not know whether he will be filial. A ruler may truly follow the Dao and yet not know whether he has loyal ministers. What sort of ruler did Yu Rang serve? Yu Rang aided him, yet his lord was killed. What is there to praise in that?”

Duke Wen took the cup and drained it, without passing it on to offer another toast. He said, “It was precisely the absence of men like Guan Zhong and Bao Shu to assist him that made Yu Rang’s achievement possible.” That is why Laozi said, “When a state is in disorder, loyal ministers appear.”

Confucius came to the temple of Duke Huan of Lu and saw a vessel called the youzhi, a wine vessel placed to the right of one’s seat. Confucius said, “How good! I can finally see this vessel.” He turned and told his disciples to fetch water. When it arrived, he poured it into the vessel. When the vessel stood upright, the water filled only half of it; when full, it tipped over.

With a solemn expression, Confucius said, “How good! This shows the principle of keeping fullness in check.” Zigong, standing nearby, asked, “May I ask how one can keep fullness in check?” Confucius replied, “By exercising restraint and willingly reducing what one has.” Zigong asked again, “What does it mean to willingly reduce what one has?” Confucius said, “When things reach their height, they decline. When joy reaches its limit, it turns to sorrow. After noon, the sun begins to move west; after the moon is full, it gradually wanes. Therefore, those who are intelligent and perceptive should restrain themselves by appearing foolish. Those who are widely learned and skilled in debate should restrain themselves through frugality. Those who are strong, resolute, and brave should hold themselves in check through reverence. Those who are wealthy, eminent, and powerful should remain humble. Those who extend their beneficence to all under Heaven should conduct themselves with modesty and deference. These five practices are why the sage kings of antiquity possessed all under Heaven without losing it. Whoever goes against them is sure to fall into danger. That is why Laozi says that those who hold to the Dao do not seek fullness. Precisely because they do not seek fullness, even when worn down they avoid becoming rigid and can remain ever-renewed.”

King Wu of Zhou asked the Grand Duke: “If I send out troops to punish King Zhou, people throughout the realm will say that a minister is killing his ruler and a subordinate is attacking his superior. I fear that wars will continue and conflict will never cease in later generations. What should I do?”

The Grand Duke replied: “Your Majesty asks a good question. Before a hunter catches his prey, he worries that its wound is too slight and it will escape. Once he has caught it, he worries that its injuries are too severe and too much meat has been lost. If Your Majesty wishes to govern the realm for a long time, you must restrain the people’s sensory desires. When Laozi speaks of ‘blocking the openings,’ he means curbing the senses of hearing, sight, smell, and taste. In governing the realm, one should eliminate useless affairs and burdensome teachings.

The people should be made content with their occupations and satisfied with their lives. In public, one should uphold clear rites and laws; inwardly, one should follow the deep, unfathomable Dao through Wuwei (non-action)—letting things follow their natural course without undue interference. Thus, eliminate disorderly hairstyles and elaborate clothing: people should no longer wear their hair loose, adorn themselves with bird-shaped headdresses, or carry swords, but instead carry tablets that symbolize ritual propriety. Institute three years of mourning to reduce population growth; promote humility and yielding so that the people do not contend. Use wine and meat to build goodwill, instruments such as the yu and se zithers to bring pleasure, and belief in spirits and deities to inspire reverence. Then conceal the unadorned nature of the people beneath elaborate ritual forms, and exhaust family wealth through lavish burials and prolonged mourning. Adorn the dead and mourning garments with pearls, jade, and colored ribbons, depleting their possessions; dig deep tombs and raise high burial mounds, exhausting the people’s labor. In this way, families will become poor and their numbers will dwindle, leaving people unable to plot trouble. By changing customs in this way, one can preserve the realm without losing it.

That is why Laozi said: ‘When the people have been taught and desires arise in them again, I use nameless simplicity to settle them.’”

The eighteenth and final chapter of Huainan Honglie Jie.

The following collation notes explain differences between the original text and the Jijie edition. Some characters were missing from the original and have been supplied from the Jijie edition; others were errors and have been corrected according to that edition; still others were redundant and have been removed. For example, “inexhaustible” was missing from the original and has now been supplied from the Jijie edition. The mistaken character “nine” has been changed to “all”; “six” to “woman”; “forget” to “will”; and “Xiang” to “decline.” The omitted passages “When things are exhausted, resentment arises; when resentment arises, it reaches its extreme” and “Master Zhan said, ‘One cannot overcome oneself’” have also been restored. In addition, characters such as “ruler/group,” “glory/toil,” and “arrive/be” have been corrected.

In ancient times, people ruled the world wearing caps and clothes made of animal skins. “Ancient times” here probably refers to the period before the Three Sovereigns, when people had not yet established rules governing ceremonial dress. Rulers governed with De: they did not humiliate the people or rely on punishments to maintain order. They gave the people goods without taking them back in taxes. The people did not mock their plain clothing; instead, they all turned toward the ruler’s De. In those days, Yin-Yang was in harmony, wind and rain came in season, and all things flourished. Government was not cruel, and few people died young. One could reach down and take eggs from magpies’ nests, and lead wild animals along.

Did people in those days really need to wear wide robes, broad sashes, and garments with curved collars, and put on caps such as the Weimao and Zhangfu? People lived by the water or in earthen caves. In winter, they could not withstand frost and snow; in summer, they could not endure the heat and biting insects. So the sages built houses: they rammed earth and set up wooden posts, then raised beams and eaves to shelter people from wind and rain and protect them from cold and heat, allowing them to live in peace.

When Boyu, said to have been a minister of the Yellow Emperor, first made clothing, he twisted hemp into thread, drawing and winding it by hand. The fabric he wove was still like a net. Later, people invented the loom and wove more practical cloth, so they could cover their bodies and ward off the cold. In ancient times, people farmed with pointed spades and cleared weeds with sharpened shells. They chopped wood with wooden sickles and drew water with pottery vessels. Their labor was hard and their harvests small. Later, they developed plows, hoes, axes, and counterweighted well sweeps, making work easier and increasing the harvest.

In the past, deep rivers and valleys blocked roads and made travel difficult. People therefore made hollowed-out rafts and joined boats so that goods could be exchanged between regions. At first, people carried loads on their shoulders and backs and could not travel far. Later, they invented wheels and vehicles, and used horses and oxen to draw them, making long journeys less exhausting. Birds of prey and wild animals could harm people, so they smelted metal and forged weapons for protection. This shows that when people encounter difficulties, they seek what makes things easier; when dangers arise, they find ways to guard against them. Each person uses what they know to avoid harm and pursue benefit. Thus, old practices cannot be followed forever, and tools cannot remain unchanged. When the needs of the times shift, practices should shift too; for this reason, the laws of the former kings also changed.

In ancient marriage rites, the people concerned were not addressed directly; their fathers and elder brothers, teachers, or friends acted on their behalf. Shun married without informing his father, which by the rites was improper. But Yao knew Shun was worthy and gave him his two daughters in marriage. Shun’s father was cruel and often tried to kill him, and Shun knew that informing him would not make the marriage possible. Mencius therefore said that although Shun did not inform his father, in the circumstances it could still be regarded as if he had.

According to the rules of succession, the eldest son should inherit. Yet King Wen of Zhou set aside his eldest son, Boyikao, and appointed King Wu as his successor, contrary to the usual practice. Boyikao was King Wu’s elder brother. Setting aside the eldest in favor of the worthy, and allowing a younger son born to a secondary wife to take the place of the principal wife’s son, was a measure the sage adopted in response to the circumstances. The classic also says that, according to ordinary rites, men married at thirty and women at twenty. A ruler, however, held a coming-of-age ceremony at twelve, in keeping with the twelve-year cycle of Jupiter, and married after reaching adulthood. King Wen fathered King Wu at fifteen, which did not conform to ordinary rites, but was done to secure the succession.

Funeral customs also differed from one dynasty to another. The Xia placed the coffin on the eastern steps, keeping it in the place of the host, because they could not bear to treat the dead as guests. The Shang placed it in the hall between the two pillars. The Zhou placed it on the western steps and sent off the dead according to the rites for a guest. In Shun’s time, coffins were made of pottery. The Xia surrounded the body with tiles; the Shang made an outer coffin of cypress; and the Zhou used both an inner and an outer coffin, placing beside the funeral carriage fans decorated with patterns, whose number depended on the deceased’s rank.

The timing and location of sacrifices also differed. The Xia sacrificed at night in the innermost room; the Shang sacrificed in the hall at dawn; the Zhou sacrificed in the courtyard at sunrise. Their music differed as well: Yao had the “Great Pattern,” Shun the “Nine Shao,” Yu the “Great Xia,” Tang the “Great Huo,” and King Wu of Zhou the “Martial Image.” Thus, the Five Emperors governed in different ways, yet each spread De throughout the world; the Three Kings followed different practices, yet each became renowned for generations. All of these rites and forms of music were established in response to changing times.

This is like the musician Shi Kuang adjusting the movable bridges on a se: he shifted them up or down without following a fixed measure, yet brought the notes into harmony with the musical scales. Only those who understand the purpose of rites and music can create music. Whoever grasps the underlying principles can know where the rules apply.

Duke Zhao of Lu had a foster mother—a woman his father had appointed to raise him—and he loved and respected her deeply. When she died, Duke Zhao wore a lian mourning cap, made from cloth that had been boiled and bleached. This gave rise to the rite of mourning for a foster mother. Her status was roughly equivalent to that of a high official’s concubine or a shi official’s wife, and she was called a “woman mother.” By ritual convention, mourning for her was observed with coarse hemp garments for three months. The author cites Duke Zhao’s wearing of the lian cap for his foster mother as an explanation of how the relevant rite originated.

Marquis Yang, ruler of Yangling, killed the Marquis of Liao and took his wife. As a result, the rite of the wife’s participation in the daxiang, the ruler’s grand banquet, was later discontinued. The Marquis of Liao was a descendant of Gaoyao and belonged to the Yan-surname feudal state, whose territory lay around present-day Lujiang. In ancient times, at a daxiang, the ruler held a wine cup while his wife held a dou, a vessel for serving food. Marquis Yang was struck by the beauty of the Marquis of Liao’s wife, so he killed the marquis and married her. After this, the lords discontinued the rite in which their wives held the dou at the daxiang.

In ancient times, at grand banquets, the ruler held a wine cup while his consort held a dou, a ritual vessel for serving food. Yang Hou saw that the consort of Lord Liao was beautiful and captivating, so he killed Lord Liao and married his consort. As a result, the ritual for receiving a consort was abolished. This account explains why the ritual was discontinued.

If institutions established by the ancient kings no longer suit the times, they should be abolished; if practices introduced by later generations are beneficial, they should be recorded. Ritual and music, therefore, have never been unchanging. The sage establishes ritual and music but is not bound by them.

In governing a state, there are enduring principles, foremost among them the welfare of the people. In political instruction and administration, there are established practices, foremost among them ensuring that orders are carried out. If something truly benefits the people, there is no need to copy ancient methods; if it truly suits the circumstances, there is no need to follow old institutions. Not every old practice is necessarily good. As the Xia and Shang declined, Jie and Zhou refused to change old methods and ultimately lost their states. When Yu, Tang, and King Wu rose to power, they did not simply copy the institutions of earlier times, and so established royal rule.

Thus, the sage changes laws in response to the times and adjusts rituals to suit prevailing customs. Clothing and implements should suit their respective uses; laws and orders, too, should be established according to actual circumstances. Changing ancient institutions is not necessarily wrong, and following custom is not always worthy of praise.

The sources of the hundred rivers differ, yet they all flow into the sea and find their destination there. The teachings of the hundred schools differ, yet all seek to bring order to society; bringing order is their essential aim. When the kingly Way declined, the Book of Songs arose to criticize the failings of royal government. When the Zhou house weakened and ritual and righteousness fell into disarray, the Spring and Autumn Annals arose to correct practices at odds with ritual and righteousness. The Book of Songs and the Spring and Autumn Annals are both excellent texts, but they came into being in times of decline. How could Confucian scholars, by relying on these texts to instruct the world, match the governance of the flourishing Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties? If we revere the Book of Songs and the Spring and Autumn Annals as the whole of ancient statecraft, we overlook the ages before they appeared. Rather than looking only at records from after the Great Way had fallen into disrepair, we should seek to understand it in its complete form.

Reciting the Songs and Documents of the ancient kings is not as good as understanding what they said. Understanding what they said is not as good as grasping why they said it. Hearing the words of a sage is not as good as sensing what the sage meant before speaking. We can grasp the principle behind their words precisely because some subtleties are difficult to express. Thus, the “Way” that can be put into words is not the constant Way. The constant Way is profound and elusive, and language cannot explain it completely, just as the sage’s subtle thoughts cannot be fully expressed.

When the Duke of Zhou served King Wen, he never acted on his own initiative or made decisions arbitrarily. He sought permission before taking action in all things. He carried himself with care and spoke with restraint. In serving King Wen, he was respectful and compliant, as though worried that he might fall short in his attentiveness. He may rightly be called a dutiful son.

After King Wu died and King Cheng was still young, the Duke of Zhou continued King Wen’s work, acting in the Son of Heaven’s stead and directing the affairs of the realm. He suppressed the rebellion of the Yi and Di peoples and punished the crimes of Guan Shu and Cai Shu, both of whom were his brothers. They had been ordered to oversee the lands of Yin, but instead helped Lufu, the son of King Zhou, spread rumors in an attempt to sow disorder in the Zhou dynasty. The Duke of Zhou had them killed for the sake of the state. This is precisely what is meant by “placing righteousness above family ties.” With his back to the screen and facing south, the Duke of Zhou received the lords of the states and decided rewards and punishments on his own, without needing to consult others about every matter. His authority shook the realm, and people throughout the four seas submitted to him. He may rightly be called capable in the conduct of military affairs.

When King Cheng came of age, the Duke of Zhou handed power back to him and transferred the registers, maps, and other records. Facing north in the posture of a subject, he presented gifts and served King Cheng. From then on, he sought permission in all matters and acted only after submitting his reports. He never seized power or boasted of his achievements or exaggerated his virtue. He may rightly be called a dutiful minister.

The Duke of Zhou’s role changed three times over the course of his life, precisely to meet the demands of different circumstances. How much more do rulers succeed one another from generation to generation, and states change their rulers? People may use their rank and authority to promote what they favor and exclude those they dislike; they may also use their power to satisfy their private desires. If one were to respond to ever-changing circumstances with a single set of rituals and one fixed law, it would plainly be impossible to judge and handle matters appropriately. What is meant by “weighing circumstances” is to devise a suitable course of action for each specific situation while staying true to the balanced and upright Way.

The fundamental principle followed by the sage is called the Way; the specific matters the sage handles are called affairs. The Way is like the pitch of bells and chimes: once set, it does not change easily. Specific affairs, however, are like the strings of a zither, which are adjusted as their tension changes. Laws and ritual principles are tools for governing people, but they are not governance itself. Bows and arrows are tools for shooting, but they cannot guarantee a hit; whether the shot succeeds also depends on the archer. The success or failure of governance depends above all on the virtue of those in power.

Humaneness is the foundation, and righteousness is the standard: these principles should never change, in any age. As for specific matters involving people, one should assess people’s abilities and continually examine actual results. So long as good methods are chosen and put into practice, they may be adjusted every day. Humaneness and righteousness cannot change, but particular measures can.

Can there really be laws for the world that never change? One should follow the times and choose what is fitting, so that government suits the circumstances of the age and the disposition of its people, accords with the movements of Heaven and Earth, and conforms to what the spirits recognize as right. Only then can the state be governed properly.

In ancient times, people were honest and simple, worked with care, and merchants did not cheat. Women were dignified and upright. Here, “pure and substantial” means solid and unadorned; “strong in their work” means possessing steady strength and doing things thoroughly; “simple merchants” means merchants who do not deceive; and “dignified women” means women who are chaste and free from wrongdoing. People acted in keeping with human relationships and reason, followed the ways of Heaven and Earth, and showed reverence and deference to the spirits. In this way, affairs of government could be properly conducted. “Proper” means fitting, and “auspicious” means compliant.

In those days, decrees and instruction were easy to put into practice, and customs easy to change. Now, as virtue declines and popular customs grow increasingly shallow, trying to govern a corrupted people with methods of simplicity and honesty is like controlling a wild horse without a bit or reins, and without whip or spur. An old commentary explains that “bit and bridle” refers to the iron bit placed in a horse’s mouth, while “whip and spur” refers to the sharp point at the end of a whip. “Wild horse” means an untamed horse.

In the past, the people obeyed even without decrees under the Divine Farmer, Shennong; tradition says that knots were used to record information and manage affairs in that age. By the time of Tang Yao and Yu Shun, decrees existed, but there were no punishments. Their governance and teaching were humane and righteous, so the people did not break the law and no one needed to be punished. The people of the Xia dynasty kept their word; the Shang people made promises by oath and did not break them. The Zhou people, in turn, held sworn covenants. When they gathered over a matter and could not agree, they would sacrifice an animal and taste its blood to swear an oath, making it a pledge of good faith.

By the time the Prince of Huainan wrote this book, people had grown willing to deceive and casually insult others, pursuing profit with little sense of shame. If one still tried to govern them by the methods of Shennong’s age, disorder would surely follow. Bocheng Zigao gave up his position as a feudal lord and returned to farming, earning the respect of everyone in the realm. He is said to have lived in the time of Yao. In ancient times, withdrawing from office to farm was considered noble. Today, someone who resigns and lives in seclusion as an ordinary villager may not deserve to be compared with Bocheng Zigao.

In ancient times, weapons consisted only of bows, arrows, and swords. Wooden spears had no iron blades, and halberds had no sharp points. In later ages, attackers used tall battering rams to besiege cities, while defenders used shields, armor, and protective screens; they also fought with repeating crossbows and war chariots. Repeating crossbows were mounted on a carriage and drawn by oxen. Blades were fitted to both sides of the carriage and activated by a mechanism; this was called a “blade chariot.” In ancient campaigns against other states, children were not killed and old men with white hair were not taken prisoner. “Yellow mouths” refers to children, and “two-colored hair” to people whose hair had turned partly white. The ancients considered this a matter of righteousness, but today some people find it laughable.

What the ancients considered honorable—such as Bocheng Zigao resigning and returning to farm—is now seen as settling for a humble life in the countryside. The methods by which the ancients governed the realm may also cause disorder today. In the time of Shennong and Fuxi, people did no wrong even without rewards or punishments. But rulers today cannot abolish laws and still govern the people, because people in the present age cannot attain the customs of Shennong and Fuxi’s time. Shun danced with a shield and a great axe, bringing the Youmiao people into submission through the influence of his virtue. Yet today, when fighting the violent and oppressive, one cannot simply lay down one’s weapons.

It follows that laws and standards are meant to measure the customs of the people and adjust the severity and urgency of governance. Weapons and equipment, in turn, should change with the times and be adapted to circumstances.

When sages establish laws and standards, the myriad things are brought under their regulation. Here, “regulate” means to follow and comply with them. When the worthy establish ritual institutions, the unworthy are instead constrained by them; here, “constrain” means to keep in check. Those who only know how to follow rules cannot be consulted about long-term plans, and those who cling rigidly to ritual and law cannot be entrusted with responding to change.

Someone who cannot distinguish clear tones from muddy ones by ear should not be asked to tune an instrument. Someone who does not understand the roots of order and disorder should not be asked to establish laws. Only those with distinctive insight and clear discernment can grasp the principles and apply them flexibly.

The Yin dynasty changed the institutions of the Xia dynasty, and the Zhou dynasty changed those of the Yin. By the Spring and Autumn period, the institutions of the Zhou had in turn been changed. The ritual systems of the three dynasties all differed—which one, then, should be followed? Those with understanding create institutions; later generations follow and put them into practice. Only by understanding why law and order arise can one adapt to the times. Those who do not understand their roots will cause disorder in the end, even if they copy the institutions of antiquity.

Today, laws change with the times, and ritual and righteousness change with customs. Yet scholars cling to old learning, relying on the classics to uphold old teachings and insisting that only this can govern the state. This is like trying to fit a square tenon into a round mortise: making them work together is exceedingly difficult. Confucians and Mohists now praise the institutions of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, and those of King Wen and King Wu of Zhou, but do not put them into practice themselves. They only talk about things that cannot be done. They reject the institutions of the present age but refuse to change them, while in practice doing precisely what they believe to be wrong. They praise the right institutions in words but follow the wrong ones in action. As a result, their constant deliberation contributes nothing to good governance; they exhaust their bodies and minds and deplete their intelligence, yet cannot help their ruler.

Painters enjoy painting ghosts and monsters but dislike painting dogs and horses. Why? Because ghosts and monsters are rarely seen in the world, while dogs and horses can be seen every day. Preserving a state and turning danger into safety require wisdom. Anyone, even a fool, can talk about the principles of antiquity. Therefore, a sage king does not put impractical laws into effect or heed words that have not been tested.

Of all the qualities of the Qi of Heaven and Earth, none is more important than harmony. Only when Yin and Yang are balanced and day and night are in equilibrium can the myriad things grow: at the spring equinox they begin to sprout, and at the autumn equinox they approach maturity. The growth and maturity of all things depend on the harmonious vital essences. Thus, the sage’s way of conducting himself is generous yet exacting, stern yet gentle, yielding yet upright, and powerful yet benevolent. It brings firmness and gentleness, leniency and severity, into balance. Excessive firmness leads to breaking; excessive gentleness leads to bending. The sage stands between firmness and gentleness, in keeping with the root of the Dao. When Yin Qi accumulates, people become sluggish; when Yang Qi accumulates, they become unsettled. Only when Yin and Yang meet can harmony take shape.

A cord can be coiled up or drawn straight. When stretched, it becomes straight and can be used for measuring. The sage puts this principle into practice in his own conduct. A cord, once prepared, does not deviate. Though short, it can be extended; though straight, it is not rigid; and even after long use, it does not lose its usefulness. Governance is the same. Excessive favor makes people weak, and weakness leaves them without authority. Excessive severity makes them fierce, and fierceness destroys harmony. Excessive indulgence makes people unruly, and unruliness makes them hard to govern. Excessive punishment becomes cruelty and alienates people.

Duke Jian of Qi, a ruler of the Spring and Autumn period, gave up control of the state and relied exclusively on his minister Chen Chengzi, also known as Tian Chang. The generals and ministers seized authority and power, forming private factions, and impartial government could no longer be carried out. Chen Chengzi, Chi Yizi Pi, and others were then able to launch the rebellion that killed Duke Jian. The sacrifices of the Lü house consequently came to an end, and the state of Qi ultimately fell into the hands of the Chen house. This was the result of weakness.

Ziyang of Zheng, a ruler of Zheng—or, according to another account, its chief minister—was forceful and decisive, but favored severe punishment and never spared anyone who had been punished. One of his household retainers broke a bow and feared he would be put to death for it. When mad dogs startled the people and sent them chasing about in confusion, the retainer seized the opportunity to kill Ziyang. This was the calamity brought on by excessive force.

Those who do not understand the art of governing see the weak being bullied and boast that they will be strong. When they see the strong fall, they turn around and boast that they will be gentle. Such people have no settled judgment of their own. They are led about by what they happen to see and hear, and so never find a sure direction in life.

This is like singing without understanding music. If the voice is muddy, it becomes clogged and faltering; if it is too bright, it turns dry and cannot blend with other sounds. Han E, Qin Qing, and Xue Tan were skilled singers; Hou Tong and Man Sheng were skilled in melodic chanting. Their feelings filled them and built up until they overflowed into sound. Their tones therefore accorded with musical principles and could move the heart. How could they do this? Because they had an inner guide: they could distinguish clear tones from muddy ones, were not led by external influences, and had their own standard for judging sound.

A blind person walking along a road will turn left when someone tells him to go left, and right when told to go right. If he meets a gentleman, he may find the right path; if he meets a petty person, he may fall into a ditch. Why does this happen? Because his eyes cannot distinguish things outside himself. In the scripture, the character “see” has been emended to “make contact with”: it means that the eyes cannot make contact with or discern things outside themselves.

The state of Wei appointed Lou Zhai and Wu Qi at the same time, yet lost the western region of the Yellow River. Marquis Wen of Wei employed Lou Zhai and Wu Qi but failed to appoint other worthy men. Later, Qin attacked Wei, and Wei lost the western region of the Yellow River. King Min of Qi appointed Nao Chi alone and eventually died in the Eastern Ancestral Temple. King Min was a ruler of the Tian family, which came after Tian Chang and replaced the Lü family as lords of Qi; after the Spring and Autumn period, he arrogated to himself the title of king. Nao Chi had originally been a general of Chu, but later defected to Qi and became its minister. King Min of Qi was immoral, so Nao Chi killed him, drew out his tendons, and hung them from the crossbeam above the temple gate. He died three days later. These events are recorded in the Strategies of the Warring States. These rulers did not understand how to direct their ministers.

King Wen of Zhou appointed Lü Wang and the Duke of Shao at the same time, and thereby established the royal enterprise. Lü Wang was Grand Duke Lü Shang, skilled in military strategy. The Duke of Shao, also known as Duke Kang of Shao, was skilled at governing the people and left behind the poem “Sweet Pear Tree.” King Zhuang of Chu appointed Sun Shuao alone and thus became hegemon among the feudal lords. This was because he understood how to direct his ministers. Sun Shuao was a senior official of Chu, recommended by Jia Boyingzi; some also say he was a boy. King Zhuang of Chu appointed the worthy Sun Shuao and thus achieved hegemony.

Playing the zither and singing, and beating drums and dancing for entertainment, were advocated by Confucius. So too were circling in ritual bows and yielding to one another to practice the rites, and burying the dead with lavish funerals and mourning for a long time to send them off. Mozi opposed these practices; here, “opposed” means to censure or criticize.

Loving all people, honoring the worthy, revering ghosts and spirits, and rejecting the doctrine of fixed destiny were advocated by Mozi, but Yangzi criticized these ideas. Showing love to the elderly and those of advanced years exemplifies Mozi’s teaching of universal love; selecting scholars to take part in the grand archery ceremony exemplifies honoring the worthy; making offerings to ancestors and showing reverence to one’s father exemplifies revering ghosts and spirits; and acting in accordance with the changing seasons exemplifies Mozi’s rejection of fixed destiny. Yangzi did not esteem these practices, so he criticized them.

Preserving one’s natural endowment and safeguarding one’s true nature, without allowing external things to harm the body, were advocated by Yangzi, but Mencius criticized him. Preserving one’s natural endowment and safeguarding one’s true nature meant refusing even to pluck a single hair from one’s leg to benefit the world. Not allowing external things to harm oneself meant not letting them burden one’s body. Mencius had studied under Zisi and inherited the virtues of Tang Yao, Yu Shun, and the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties. He expounded the Songs, Documents, and Confucius’s thought, and rebutted the extreme views of Yang Zhu and Mozi. That is why he criticized Yangzi.

People make different choices, and their understanding rests on different grounds. Therefore, whether something is right or wrong must be judged in its particular circumstances: what fits those circumstances is not wrong, and what does not fit them is not right. The people of Danxue, Taimeng, Fanzhong, Kongtong, Daxia, Beihu, Qigong, and Xiugu had different standards of right and wrong, and their customs also differed from one another.

Danxue lies in the south, directly beneath the sun’s path; Taimeng lies in the west, where the sun sets. Fanzhong is the name of a state whose people walk southward, yet leave footprints facing north. Kongtong lies at the farthest point below the place where the crested bird lives; Daxia lies in the west; Beihu lies in the south. The people of Qigong and Xiugu live in the southwest. All eight places lie beyond the Nine Provinces, in remote regions at the edges of the eight directions.

Rulers and ministers, those above and below, husbands and wives, fathers and sons—all have relationships in which they serve and complement one another. What is considered right here is not necessarily considered right there; what is considered wrong here is not necessarily considered wrong there. “Here” refers to the states of the Central Plain, and “there” to the remote regions in the eight directions. What the Central Plain considers right may be discarded in the borderlands; what the Central Plain considers wrong may be practiced there instead. It is like an axe, a chisel, and a hammer: each has its proper use.

When Yu the Great governed the realm, he listened to affairs of state through the five musical notes. Yu was a descendant of Zhuanxu and the son of Gun. His personal name was Wenming; he was called Yu because he received the abdication and established great achievements. The five notes are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. Yu hung bells, drums, stone chimes, and clappers, set out a small hand drum, and waited for worthy people to come from the four directions. He established signals: whoever came to teach him the art of governing was to strike the drum…

When Yu, the legendary ancient sage ruler, was emperor, he hung bells, drums, stone chimes, and wooden clappers before the palace gate, and set out small hand drums to receive visitors from the four directions. He announced: “Anyone who wishes to discuss the Way of governing the state with me should beat the drum.”

The drum sounded to harmonize the Five Tones—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu—so the drum served as a signal. Anyone who wished to present matters of state should shake the clapper. A clapper is a kind of bell, with a metal mouth and a wooden tongue that sounds when shaken. Since matters of state are many and varied, the clapper served as their signal. Anyone who wished to speak of troubles should strike the stone chime. The chime is a stone instrument with a sharp, urgent sound; troubles, too, are urgent matters, so the chime served as their signal. Those with a legal case should shake the small hand drum. A legal case requires arguing over the facts, so the small drum served as its signal.

At that time, in order to hear the views of people throughout the realm, Yu would rise ten times during a single meal and pause three times to gather up his hair while washing it, receiving visitors each time. Here, “feed” means a meal, while “toil” means being troubled on behalf of the people and caring for their welfare. If, even in such circumstances, a person cannot express good intentions, offer loyal advice, and speak frankly, then that person simply lacks the ability to do so.

In the Qin dynasty, Qin Shi Huang undertook major construction projects, building lofty terraces and pavilions, vast hunting parks, and distant imperial roads, and casting bronze figures as well. In the twenty-sixth year of Qin Shi Huang’s reign (221 BCE), just after the Qin state had unified the realm, a very tall man appeared…

During the Qin dynasty, Qin Shi Huang built very high terraces and pavilions, laid out vast pleasure gardens and hunting parks, constructed distant imperial highways for rapid travel by carriage and horse, and cast bronze giants.

In the twenty-sixth year of Qin Shi Huang’s reign (221 BCE), just after he had unified the realm, a giant appeared at Lintao, in what is now the Gansu region. He stood five zhang tall, and his footprints measured six chi in length. The Qin modeled bronze giants on his appearance to represent him. These were known as Weng Zhong and Jun He.

The Qin conscripted men fit for garrison duty and collected fodder for horses. “Garrison service” meant guarding the Great Wall. The fodder levy was a tax used to cover state expenses. The Qin also imposed what was called “head-count levies and basket levies”: “head-count levies” meant collecting taxes from each person individually, while “basket levies” likened the exaction of large quantities of goods from the people to gathering them up with a winnowing basket. The proceeds were sent to the Shaofu, an office responsible for the palace finances and provisions.

After being conscripted, adult men were sent west to Lintao and Didao. Lintao was a county in Longxi Commandery, with the Tao River flowing from its northern side; Didao was a county in Hanyang Commandery. They were sent east to Kuaiji and Fushi. Kuaiji was a mountain; Fushi, said to rise and fall with the water without sinking, was also in the Liaoxi region. Another account places Mount Kuaiji beneath Mount Tai: Qin Shi Huang performed the Feng and Shan sacrifices at Mount Tai, then went to Kuaiji to perform a Shan sacrifice. Some also say that “Kuaiji” refers to the Eastern Sea. To the south, men were sent to Yuzhang and Guilin: Yuzhang was a commandery, and Guilin was Yulin Commandery. To the north, they were sent to Feihu and Yangyuan. Feihu was probably around Mount Feihu, south of Dai Commandery; Yangyuan was probably in Taiyuan, though some say it was at Wuyuan Gate, east of Guangchang County in Dai Commandery.

The dead along the roads were so numerous that they could be counted by the ditches; in other words, bodies filled the ditches. At such a time, those who offered loyal remonstrance were condemned as bringing ill fortune, while those who upheld benevolence and righteousness were called mad.

In the time of Emperor Gao (Liu Bang, founder of the Han dynasty, whose given name was Ji), the state survived and its broken line of succession was restored. He raised the great cause of setting the world to rights. With his own hands he shook out his robes and sleeves, took up weapons, and prayed to Heaven to preserve the lives of the people. He took up sharp weapons to punish the unrighteous, seeking to rescue the people from danger, and for this purpose he also prayed to august Heaven.

At that time, the outstanding talents and heroes of the realm fought in the open country. Those whose abilities surpassed a thousand were called “jùn,” those who surpassed a hundred “háo,” and those who surpassed ten thousand “yīng.” Before them, arrows and flying stones threatened; behind them, they might plunge into ravines. They endured every kind of mortal danger for the chance to survive, all in pursuit of rule over the realm. They fought with all their strength and gave their utmost loyalty, determined to decide victory or defeat in a day or two. For this reason, people who wore wide robes and broad sashes and discussed the teachings of the Confucians and Mohists were considered out of step with the times: martial force was then held in esteem.

Once the rebellions had been put down and the realm brought to peace, the court carried forward the work of civil governance and established military achievements. When Gaozu ascended the throne as Son of Heaven, he instituted the Liu house’s system of ceremonial dress and headgear. Near Xinfeng, he had bamboo-bark caps made; these were called weimao caps. He gathered scholars of the Confucian and Mohist traditions from the regions of Zou and Lu, carrying on the teachings left by the ancient sages. He used the Son of Heaven’s banners, rode in the Great Chariot—the ceremonial carriage reserved for the Son of Heaven—and raised a banner with nine streamers. Bells were struck and drums beaten as the music of the Yellow Emperor, “Xianchi,” was performed, while dancers held shields and axes. According to the Rites of Zhou, the Son of Heaven had five kinds of chariot, of which the Great Chariot was the most exalted. In antiquity, rulers composed musical pieces after completing great achievements; hence bells were struck and drums beaten. Dancers held shields and axes as part of the ritual performance of ancient music and dance.

In such an age, those who established military achievements might nevertheless come under suspicion. In any given age, civil governance and military force may take turns in the leading role, each suited to its own time. Today, those engaged in military affairs reject civil governance, while those devoted to civil governance reject military affairs. They attack one another without understanding that they should respond to the needs of the times. This is like seeing only a small corner of a house and failing to grasp the vastness of the world in all eight directions. Look east, and the western wall is out of sight; look south, and the north cannot be seen. Only by refusing to fix one’s gaze in a single direction can one gain an unobstructed view on all sides.

A state endures through De (Virtue). When De is put into practice, the people willingly accept its teachings, and the state therefore survives. A family falls into ruin when the principles of governance are obstructed. “Principle” means the Dao (the Way).

Yao had no walled city with even a hundred households, and Shun had not so much as a patch of land to stand on, yet both came to possess all under Heaven. Yu had fewer than ten men under his command, and Tang’s territory extended only seven li in each direction, yet both became kings among the feudal lords. King Wen lived around Qizhou, with no more than a hundred li of land, yet became Son of Heaven. They achieved this by putting the kingly way into practice. Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, and King Wen each established kingly rule as sovereigns of all under Heaven. The Mengzi says, “One who practices benevolent government through virtue can become king without waiting for any special conditions.” This expresses the same principle.

At the height of their power, Jie of Xia and Zhou of Yin ruled everywhere people could travel on foot, by boat, or by cart. Yet in the end they died at others’ hands and became a laughingstock to all under Heaven. This was because the signs of their downfall had already appeared. The Mengzi says that those who fear death yet delight in what is inhumane are bound to meet death. The inhumane are therefore already showing signs of ruin.

Sages observe how things change and use this to recognize the signs. A “sign” is a trace of something beginning to show itself. Virtue waxes and wanes, and the prevailing atmosphere reveals its first stirrings in advance. “Atmosphere” refers to the tenor and prevailing spirit of the times; “stirring” means that something is beginning to emerge. The ruler whose virtue flourished was King Wen of Zhou, and Boyi and Taigong Wang saw this first. The ruler whose virtue declined was Jie of Xia; the Grand Historian Zhonggu and Xiang Yi left him one after the other.

Thus, one who has gained the kingly way will eventually grow from small beginnings, however weak he may be. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou were like this. One who shows signs of ruin will ultimately fail, however powerful he may seem for a time. Jie of Xia and Zhou of Yin were like this. When the Xia dynasty was about to fall, the Grand Historian Zhonggu fled first to the state of Shang; three years later, Jie was overthrown. Tang of Shang destroyed the Xia. When the Yin dynasty was about to fall, the Grand Historian Xiang Yi first went over to King Wen of Zhou; a year later, Zhou of Yin was overthrown. King Wu of Zhou destroyed the Shang.

Sages can therefore discern the signs of a state’s survival or demise and the turning points between success and failure. They do not wait until the Battle of Mingtiao or the day of Jiazi to know what will happen. At the wilderness of Mingtiao, Tang of Shang defeated and captured Jie of Xia; on the day of Jiazi, King Wu of Zhou campaigned against Zhou of Yin and emerged victorious.

Today, some people believe that the strong inevitably win, as long as they measure land and count people, and that the wealthy inevitably prosper, as long as they weigh grain and tally gold and silver. If this were true, no feudal state with a thousand chariots would fail to dominate, and no great power with ten thousand chariots would ever perish. If the signs of a state’s survival or demise were really so easy to judge, even the dullest men and women could explain them clearly.

Zhao Xiangzi relied on Jinyang to become hegemon, yet Zhibo was captured and killed despite controlling the territory of the Three Jin. Zhibo was the head of the Zhi clan, and Zhao Xiangzi’s personal name was Wuxu. Here, “Three Jin” refers to Zhibo’s alliance with the Han and Wei clans. Zhibo led the rulers of the Han and Wei clans in besieging Zhao Xiangzi at Jinyang. Zhao Xiangzi secretly sent Zhang Mengtan to make contact with Han and Wei. They turned against Zhibo, routed his army, cut off his head, and made it into a drinking vessel. Thus, although Zhibo controlled the territory of the Three Jin, he was ultimately captured.

King Min of Qi was killed by Chunyu Kun despite the strength of the Qi state, while Tian Dan won distinction by holding Jimo. Yan attacked Qi and captured seventy cities, leaving only Jimo unconquered. Tian Dan had originally served as a market official. He led the people of Jimo in a counterattack against Yan, defeated its army, and thereby established his merit.

Whether a state survives or falls therefore cannot be judged by the size of its territory alone. Even a vast state may perish, as Zhibo’s case shows. When the Way of governance is put into practice, even a small state should not be underestimated. Shang Tang held a fief of only seventy li, and King Wen of Zhou one of only a hundred li, yet both eventually gained the realm. A state’s survival depends on whether it follows the Way, not on the size of its territory. When a ruler follows the Way, even a small state can govern well and become sovereign over the realm. When a ruler strays from the Way, even a small state will perish through wrongdoing.

The Book of Songs says, “Heaven looked toward the West and made this place its dwelling.” This means that Heaven turned away from Yin and favored Zhou. King Zhou of Shang ruled the realm from Chaoge in the East, while King Wen established his state at Qizhou in the West. Heaven’s favor turning toward the West means that Zhou replaced Yin as the dwelling place of the realm.

Thus, a ruler who brings disorder to a state may devote himself to expanding its territory and elevating its status, yet neglect benevolence, righteousness, and virtue. In doing so, he abandons the very foundation of the state’s survival and instead heads toward its downfall. When Xia Jie was imprisoned at Jiaomen, he refused to admit that his conduct was wrong and regretted only that he had not killed Shang Tang at Xiatái. When King Zhou of Shang was detained in the Xuan Chamber, he likewise refused to reflect on his faults and regretted only that he had not killed King Wen of Zhou at Youli. Youli was in the area of present-day Tangyin, Henan.

Jie and Zhou held powerful positions but could not see the wrong in their own conduct. Had they cultivated benevolence and righteousness, Shang Tang and King Wu of Zhou would not have plotted to overthrow them. If a ruler above violates the order embodied in the movements of Heaven, Earth, the sun, moon, and stars, and below loses the people’s support, someone will seize his power even without a Tang or a Wu. Here, the “Three Luminaries” means the sun, moon, and stars. To lose the people’s support is to govern in ways that run counter to what the people abhor.

Failing to examine what one ought to do while constantly guarding against others who might overthrow one is to mistake the root for the branch. There is not just one Tang or one Wu in the realm. Kill one challenger, and another will come after him. Tang and Wu became kings while still weak because they followed the Way; Jie and Zhou lost power while still strong because they did not. To refuse to learn from the principles that enabled Tang and Wu to become kings, and instead intensify the conduct that caused Jie and Zhou to lose their states, is to head toward ruin.

After King Wu of Zhou conquered Yin, he wanted to build a palace on Mount Wuxing, also known as the Taihang Mountains. The Duke of Zhou advised against it, saying that Mount Wuxing was steep and easy to defend. If their virtue were sufficient to transform the realm, the feudal lords would come of their own accord to pay tribute. If they governed tyrannically, the terrain would obstruct the realm from attacking them. The Duke of Zhou’s point was that a state should rely on virtue rather than on defensible terrain. The Zhou dynasty was consequently able to pass through thirty-six generations without losing control of the realm. The Duke of Zhou may well be said to have known how to preserve fullness without letting it overflow.

An ancient text, the Book of Zhou, records: “What those in high positions say should be carried out by those below them; what those below say should also be taken up by those above them. The views of both sides complement one another, and only then can matters be handled properly. The words of those above represent the established norms, the constant Way that a ruler should follow; the words of those below concern adapting to changing circumstances. This is a way of determining whether a state will survive or perish. To adapt to changing circumstances is to plan and weigh whether a course of action is appropriate, without straying from the right path. Only a sage can understand how to do this.”

Keeping one’s word and fulfilling one’s promises are virtues esteemed throughout the world. Yet focusing only on keeping one’s word can itself lead to error. In the state of Chu, a man from Ye County named Zhigong reported his own father for stealing a sheep. When Lord Ye told Confucius about this, Confucius said, “The upright people of my home are different: a father conceals his son’s wrongdoing, and a son conceals his father’s. Uprightness lies in this bond of family affection.” Here, “appropriating” means that an animal wandered over by itself and someone then claimed it as their own.

Weisheng, a man of the state of Lu, arranged to meet a woman beneath a bridge. When the water rose, he still would not leave, because he had promised to stay. In the end, he drowned. Reporting one’s father may be forthright, and keeping a promise even at the cost of drowning may be faithful—but what is there to praise in this kind of forthrightness or faithfulness? These stories show that clinging to principles while ignoring the circumstances can lead to an inappropriate outcome.

For a military force to falsely claim a ruler’s command is a serious offense. Duke Mu of Qin once sent troops to make a surprise attack on Zheng. As the army passed through Zhou territory, Xian Gao, a merchant from Zheng who was heading west to trade cattle, encountered them. He falsely claimed to be acting on the orders of the ruler of Zheng, presented the Qin army with twelve oxen, and received them as honored guests. This led the Qin army to abandon its plan to attack and turn back, saving Zheng. Xian Gao had no command from his ruler, but pretended that he did; this is called “falsifying a command.” Food and drink offered to troops were called provisions; giving cattle and sheep to comfort and reward an army was called an offering. The Qin army reasoned that, having marched a thousand li to attack Zheng, and now finding Zheng prepared and themselves without reinforcements, it would be better to withdraw. So they turned back.

These stories show that when circumstances reach a certain point, keeping one’s word may become a mistake, while deception may earn merit. Weisheng’s story shows that keeping a promise can be inappropriate; Xian Gao’s shows that falsely claiming an order can sometimes save a state.

What does it mean to violate proper conduct yet achieve a great deed? Duke Gong of Chu fought Duke Li of Jin at Yinling. The Chu general Lü Qi shot Duke Gong in the eye, and the king was captured. Later, Duke Gong lost his composure and all dignity, and could not get up from where he sat. The Chu officials Pan Yao, Yang Youji, Huang Shuaiwei, and Gongsun Bing discussed how to rescue him. Huang Shuaiwei kicked Duke Gong, and the king, angered by this breach of respect, sprang up. The four men seized the opportunity and carried him away. Kicking a king was indeed discourteous, but it helped him escape danger. Duke Gong later corrected his faults, and so received the posthumous title “Gong,” meaning “Reverent.”

Long ago, Cangwu Rao married a beautiful woman and wanted to give her to his elder brother. This may seem generous and fraternal, but it was inappropriate: he cared only about treating his brother well and disregarded the principle that husband and wife should be close and look after one another. This conduct is therefore not to be recommended.

Thus, when sages judge whether an action is right or wrong, they adjust their advance and withdrawal to the circumstances rather than clinging to a fixed posture. Humility and gentleness are not always meant to gain something; strength, courage, and lofty ambition do not necessarily spring from an arrogant nature. Such qualities can be ways of responding to the times and adapting to change. In the relationship between ruler and minister, kneeling in greeting expresses mutual respect. In an emergency, if the only way to save the ruler is to kick him, people throughout the world will not blame the rescuer for it. Where true loyalty lies, ritual propriety must not become an obstacle.

A filial child serves their parents with a pleasant expression and attentive respect in ordinary times. But if their father falls into the water, they should grab him by the hair and pull him out. This is neither arrogance nor an insult to the father; it is a way to save his life. When rescuing someone from drowning, one may even need to call the ruler by his personal name. The Zhou people avoided speaking the names of spirits during sacrifices out of reverence, but circumstances might force them to call a spirit by name. This is how adapting to changing circumstances is useful.

Confucius said, “One may study alongside someone and yet not be able to walk together with them on the right path; one may walk with them on the right path and yet not be able to develop virtue, achievements, and teachings together; one may achieve these things together and yet still not be able to apply situational judgment together.” Here, “to follow the Way” means to set out on the path of benevolence and righteousness. “To establish” means to accomplish virtue, achievements, and teachings. “Situational judgment” is the sage’s ability to weigh competing considerations in light of particular circumstances and arrive at an appropriate decision.

When something first appears to contradict the right path but ultimately accords with it, this is called understanding how to adapt to changing circumstances. Such judgment means acting in accordance with the situation and weighing what matters; it has no fixed form, and can sometimes turn conduct that appears bad on the surface into a good outcome. Conversely, when something seems right at first but ultimately leads to error, this shows a failure to understand how to adapt. Those who lack this understanding may turn a good deed into a bad one.

Ritual propriety is an outward expression of inner sincerity, but it can also become a false display. When events unfold in haste and danger, ritual may sometimes be of no use. Therefore, sages follow ritual forms in their dealings with others, but handle specific matters according to the actual circumstances, without binding themselves to a single fixed method. In this way, they do less harm and accomplish more; their commands can be carried out, and few in the world can find fault with them.

The ape knows that people are coming, but does not know what it is about to face. The ape is a beast from the north, with a human face, an animal’s body, and yellowish fur. The Book of Rites says that although apes can speak, they still belong among the beasts. When they see people approaching, they can recognize their names; this is what it means to know “who is coming.” Apes also love to drink, so people use wine to lure and capture them. They drink without being able to stop and do not know they are about to become drunk; then people seize them. Thus, they know that people are coming but do not know what will happen to them.

The qianghu (a legendary bird said to foretell events) knows that something is about to happen, but does not know that it has already passed. When someone is about to arrive or an event is about to occur, it cries out to foretell good or ill; this is what it means to know “what is coming.” It also knows which years will be windy and builds its nest on tree branches. People then find and take its eggs, so it is said not to know the misfortune that follows. Qiang is pronounced like the gan in “dry,” and hu like the gao in “farewell.” This illustrates that the length of each life is fixed by destiny.

In ancient times, Chang Hong was an expert in calendrical calculations in the Zhou royal court. He was a minister to King Jing of Zhou; here, “calculation” refers to the calendar. He was skilled in calculating the qi of Heaven and Earth, the movements of the sun and moon, changes in wind and rain, and the calendar and musical pitch standards. Yet he could not foresee his own fate, and in the end he was torn apart by chariots. At the time, the Fan and Zhonghang clans of Jin had rebelled against the ruler of Jin. The Liu clan of the Zhou royal house had intermarried with the Fan clan for generations, and Chang Hong served Liu Wen Gong, so the people of Zhou aided the Fan clan. In the twenty-eighth year of King Jing of Zhou, the people of Jin reproached the Zhou royal house, which then killed Chang Hong to settle the matter. Thus, although he was skilled in calculation, he did not know that he would be torn apart by chariots.

Su Qin was merely a commoner who traveled on foot to persuade rulers. Carrying his luggage and a traveling umbrella, he went from state to state, persuading powerful rulers and winning the princes over to his proposals, yet he could not escape the calamity of being torn apart by chariots. Su Qin was from Luoyang and once served as chancellor of Zhao, which enfeoffed him as Lord of Wu’an. At first, carrying his luggage and using a traveling umbrella, he visited the rulers of powerful states one by one, bringing the princes together in an alliance and weighing the advantages and disadvantages until they all accepted his arguments. Even so, he could not avoid the calamity of being torn apart by chariots. A related discussion appears in the “Quan Yan” chapter.

End of Volume Nineteen of Huainan Honglie Jie.

The following collation notes record corrections to the wording in different editions: in the first instance, “wu” should be “min”; in the second, “gong” should be “qi”; in the third, “fa” should be “hou”; in the fourth, “bu” should be “wei”; in the fifth, “wang” should be “zhu”; in the sixth, “bie” should be “ci”; in the seventh, “fa” should be “jie”; in the eighth, “si” should be “xi”; in the ninth, “qi” should be “bei”; in the tenth, “pai” should be “gong”; in the eleventh, “zhi” should be “yi”; in the twelfth, “fa” should be “mie”; in the thirteenth, “jue” should be “mu”; and in the fourteenth, “he” should be “ling.” All these corrections are based on the Jijie edition.

Chapter Twenty-One: Volume Twenty of Huainan Honglie Jie.

Volume Twenty of Huainan Honglie Jie.

Recorded by Xu Shen, Libationer to the Grand Commandant.

“Treatise on General Discussion,” Part Two.

King Yan of Xu treated people with kindness and generosity, and personally put benevolence and righteousness into practice. Thirty-two feudal states came to pay him court. Yet he died, his state was destroyed, and his descendants were slaughtered. King Yan lived in a time of decline and turmoil. He spoke only of benevolence and righteousness and made no preparations for defense, so the King of Chu destroyed him. The line in the Seven Admonitions that says, “The mistakes of Jing led to the destruction of Xu,” refers to this event.

The minister Wen Zhong assisted King Goujian of Yue and helped him avenge his humiliation, capture King Fuchai of Wu, and expand his territory by thousands of li. Yet in the end, Wen Zhong died beneath the sword called Shulou, the sharp sword the King of Yue had given him. Goujian had steeled himself to plan revenge on King Fuchai, winning a thousand li of territory, but eventually grew suspicious of Wen Zhong and gave him a sword with which to take his own life. Shulou was a sharp sword. Another account says it was a long sword with a ring on its hilt and a blade that dragged along the ground as its bearer walked.

These men all understood the crucial shifts between order and disorder, but did not know how to preserve themselves. Chang Hong understood the Way of Heaven but not human affairs; Su Qin understood political strategy but not fortune and misfortune; King Yan of Xu understood benevolence and righteousness but not the times; Wen Zhong understood loyalty but did not know how to look after his own interests.

Sages are different. They observe the condition of the age before deciding what to do, and devise their methods according to the circumstances. Their methods are not too narrow to meet the demands of great affairs, nor too cumbersome to handle ordinary matters. Here, “xun” means eight chi and “chang” means two xun; together, the terms stand for different scales, large and small. A sage can manage great affairs and handle small ones as well.

When the realm is in chaos, ritual and righteousness have fallen away, laws and order have collapsed, the strong oppress the weak, and rival powers fight for control by force, the distinctions between ruler and minister become confused and the ranks between high and low lose their order. Lice breed in the armor, and people live in military tents as swallows and sparrows build their nests, yet the fighting does not cease. In such times, anyone who begins by insisting on the rituals of humility and frugality will be suppressed, and those practices will be difficult to put into effect. When the realm is peaceful, government and instruction are harmonious, the people live in accord, and those above and below are close to one another, anyone who begins by acting domineering and proud and showing off his courage will inevitably break the laws of the authorities.

A sage, then, can be firm or yielding, weak or strong. He acts or keeps still as the times require, and establishes his achievements in keeping with the circumstances. When things begin to change, he can see the direction of the change; when an event first shows signs of taking shape, he can discern the turning point within it. As conditions shift, he responds in kind; as opportunity unfolds, he acts appropriately. Thus, nothing he does in the course of his life leaves him trapped in difficulty.

Some things can be done but are not suited to being spoken of; some can be spoken of but cannot truly be carried out; some are easy to begin but hard to bring to success; and some are difficult to accomplish but easy to ruin. What can be done but is inconvenient to speak of is a matter of advancing, withdrawing, and choosing what to accept or relinquish. What can be spoken of but cannot be put into practice is hypocrisy and deceit. What is easy to do but hard to bring to success consists of practical affairs. What is difficult to accomplish but easy to ruin is reputation. Only sages can see through these four situations and take them into account.

Sometimes, to extend an inch, one must first bend a little. A sage will do this. A small yielding that makes room for great integrity is also something a gentleman will accept. The Duke of Zhou once acquired a reputation for wrongdoing by executing his younger brothers, Guan Shu and Cai Shu. Duke Huan of Qi was also stained with infamy for contending for the throne: he returned to Qi ahead of his rival from Ju and killed Prince Jiu. But the Duke of Zhou later made amends through public service, assisting King Cheng and bringing peace to the realm. After seven years, he handed power back and himself took the position of a subject facing north. Duke Huan, for his part, erased his bad name through his achievements: he convened the feudal lords nine times and brought order to the realm. Both men were therefore regarded as worthy. If a person’s great achievements were obscured simply because of a small fault, the world would have no more enlightened rulers or able ministers.

A small blemish in the eye that does not interfere with sight is no reason to burn the eye in order to remove it. A minor ailment in the throat that does not obstruct breathing is no reason to pierce the throat in order to cure it. Along a river there are countless mounds, yet most of the land is still level. A rushing current forms waves, with peaks and troughs side by side; even when they differ by several zhang, the water as a whole may still be called level, because calm water covers the greater part. When tangerines and pomelos bear fruit in winter, people say they will wither in winter, because more trees wither then. When shepherd’s purse and wheat wither in summer, people say they grow in summer, because more plants grow then. These examples all show that the whole should not be judged from a few isolated cases.

In the past, Cao Gui, a general of Lu, led an army into battle three times, lost each time, and gave up a thousand li of territory. Had he given no thought to what should follow and, without even turning back, killed himself on the battlefield, he would have remained for the rest of his life merely a defeated general captured by the enemy. But he was not ashamed of defeat; instead, he was ashamed to die without having achieved anything. Later, at the meeting in Ke, he held a three chi dagger and confronted Duke Huan of Qi at close range, forcing Qi to return the territory Lu had lost in the three battles. His courage became known throughout the realm, and he won merit for Lu.

Guan Zhong assisted Prince Jiu but failed to help him succeed, so he could not be called wise. He fled into exile and did not die for Prince Jiu, so he could not be called brave. He was bound and imprisoned, yet was not ashamed of suffering humiliation, so he could not be called upright. Judged by these three points, ordinary people would not consider him a beneficial friend, and a ruler would not regard him as a loyal and righteous minister. Yet after escaping imprisonment, Guan Zhong took charge of Qi’s affairs, convened the feudal lords nine times, and brought order to the realm. If Guan Zhong had died for Prince Jiu at the time, without considering what might be accomplished afterward, how could Qi ever have achieved such supremacy?

When rulers assess their ministers today, if they ignore their great achievements and overall conduct and instead judge them by picking out only small acts of goodness, they will overlook worthy people. Therefore, do not pursue the minor faults of those whose virtue is profound, and do not tarnish the reputation of those held in high esteem over a small mistake.

A little standing water in a hoofprint cannot sustain large fish such as sturgeon and tuna; a beehive cannot hold a swan’s egg. A small container cannot accommodate something immense.

No one’s conduct is entirely without shortcomings. If a person’s fundamental principles and overall direction are sound, minor faults should not be allowed to erase that fact. But if someone’s basic direction is wrong, behaving properly in everyday matters is not enough to qualify them as a worthy person.

Yan Huiju was once a notorious bandit in the Liangfu region, yet later became a loyal minister of Qi. Duan Ganmu had been a wealthy merchant in Jin, but later became a tutor to Marquis Wen of Wei. Meng Mao married his sister-in-law and had five children with her, yet he was able to serve Wei, stabilize crises, and avert calamities. Jing Yang drank excessively and behaved without restraint, but his authority was enough to make the feudal lords submit in fear. All these men had shortcomings, but the direction of their lives and the achievements they established kept their reputations from being eclipsed by minor faults.

Ji Xiang and Chen Zhongzi, by contrast, clung to their principles of honor. They refused to serve corrupt rulers or accept stipends in a disordered age, and eventually starved to death. Why could they not save the country from crisis and prolong a failing enterprise? Because in upholding minor principles, they obstructed matters of greater importance. Those who fixate on details find it difficult to accomplish anything. People who delight in exposing and slandering others, publicizing their faults while concealing their strengths, also earn the resentment of everyone around them. Tall people take longer strides and can cover more ground; throughout history, not even the Five Emperors and Three Kings were entirely free of flaws in their conduct.

The Book of Changes says, “Small Excess brings success; constancy is beneficial.” This means that people are bound to make mistakes, but they should not commit grave ones. Yao, Shun, Tang of Shang, and King Wu of Zhou were rulers of prosperous ages; Duke Huan of Qi, Duke Wen of Jin, and the other Five Hegemons were also outstanding figures. Yet they still drew criticism. Some said Yao was unkind because he did not pass the realm to his son Danzhu; others said Shun showed contempt for his father because Gusou later fell into poverty. Tang banished Jie of Xia, and King Wu killed Zhou of Shang: both acts involved a ruler’s expulsion or death. The Five Hegemons, too, had histories of contending for power, and their virtue was not unblemished.

A noble person, therefore, does not demand perfection from others. When holding others to account, one should consider only what they are actually capable of doing; when holding oneself to account, one should strive toward moral standards. Asking others to do what lies within their abilities is easy; cultivating virtue in oneself is much harder. The harder something is to achieve, the more it reveals the nobility of one’s character. For what is easy to do, one may reasonably set more comprehensive expectations.

The precious jade of the Xia dynasty had flaws, and the Bright Moon Pearl bore patterns like knotted threads. Yet the world still regarded them as treasures, because minor blemishes did not diminish their great beauty. If we focus only on other people’s faults and ignore their strengths, it will be difficult to find worthy people anywhere in the world.

Baili Xi once tended cattle for another man. Yi Yin once carried pots and prepared food. Jiang Taigong once made his living as a butcher, and Ning Qi once sang outside an inn in hopes of finding service. People saw only their low status and humbling circumstances. Unable to recognize their abilities and aspirations, they assumed these men were unworthy. Only after they became worthy ministers and assisted their rulers did people believe in their abilities.

Yi Yin was discovered in the kitchen; Jiang Taigong emerged from the butcher’s market; Guan Zhong was released from confinement; and Baili Xi rose from a life spent tending cattle for another man. They were treated with respect and appointed to office, entering the court and attaining high rank. Their consciences were clear before their country, and they felt no shame in facing the feudal lords. This shows that their abilities matched the positions they held. Before Shun had accomplished anything, Yao already recognized his worth; only after Shun’s achievements were complete did ordinary people see it too. If we search for people only in courts, marketplaces, and villages, without understanding the standards by which they should be chosen, we are bound to miss many talented people. What matters is knowing how to recognize people, not merely where to look for them.

When things resemble one another, rulers can easily mistake one for another; when appearances are alike and truth is hard to distinguish from falsehood, people can be dazzled and confused. For example, bone can look like ivory, green stone (a jade-like material) can look like jade, and snakebed herb can look like miwu (an aromatic plant). These things look alike, but in reality they are different.

A cruel and harsh person may seem perceptive, but has no true understanding; he merely assumes he is right. A dull-witted person may seem kind, but is not truly benevolent; he simply cannot make decisions. A reckless person may seem brave, but is not truly courageous; he simply does not know to fear danger. When the differences between people are as obvious as those between jade and stone, or beauty and ugliness, judging them is easy. What truly confounds us are things that resemble one another: xiongqiong and gaoben, snakebed herb and miwu. They look alike, but their fragrances differ. A petty person may also look like a gentleman; the difference lies only in whether he is truly benevolent and virtuous.

Thus, among swords there are some that resemble the famed sword Moye, and only Ou Ye, the ancient master swordsmith, could identify their kinds. Among stones, some resemble green jade-like stone, and only Qidun, a skilled judge of jade, could see what they truly were. A foolish ruler is easily misled by treacherous ministers and petty people who outwardly resemble gentlemen; only a sage can discern the truth from the slightest signs.

When a snake shows its head, one can judge its length from it; when an elephant shows its tusks, one can infer its size. Xue Zhu and Yongzi, experts in judging swords, needed only to see markings on a blade like a fox’s armor to tell whether it was sharp. Yu’er and Yi Ya, experts in discerning flavors, could taste the difference between the waters of the Zi and Mian rivers even when they were mixed together.