《鹖冠子》Vol. 3

The ignorant and benighted call all of this “nature.” Apply the same principle to governing a state, and it becomes clear why the people who sang as they tamped the earth did not know of the achievements of Yao and Shun: because their rule was so good that the people lived in peace and prosperity, feeling that everything was simply as it should be.

A skilled physician can cure illness, while an inept one can make it worse. Even if the patient happens to survive, they may be left with injuries, their hands and feet cramped and difficult to straighten.

“Wei” means to pull, restrain, or cramp.

King Xiang of Chu said, “Well said. Though I cannot escape injury altogether, who could add even the slightest wound to me?”

May someone like Guan Zhong yet appear.

Tianquan, Chapter Seventeen

One who can hold up Heaven and Earth and roam freely between them—

This resembles the words in “Free and Easy Wandering” in the Zhuangzi: “beside the sun and moon, embracing the cosmos.” That is, moving alongside the sun and moon and taking the cosmos as one’s own.

This is called “returning”; some versions write “circling” or “unraveling.” It means abiding in what is real, without being led about by names and labels.

One who is not led by fame—

If you are always seeking outward, chasing external things and losing yourself, you will be carried along ceaselessly by the forces of transformation. How, then, could you hold up Heaven and Earth and roam freely?

This describes a light that shines outward but cannot illuminate its own source.

The legendary sharp-eyed Li Zhu could, in daylight, focus his eyes and see a candle flame and a person’s eyebrows from a hundred paces away, yet he could not see the eyelashes right before his own eyes. When people chase external things without turning their gaze inward, even eyes like the moon and a radiance like the sun cannot illuminate their own source. What is strange about that?

All things transform on their own, developing in turn according to their abilities, from beginning to end. Some versions write “cause” for “bring to completion.”

To stand alone within the boundless cosmos is called “the sovereign expanse of Heaven and Earth.”

“Without borders” means having no limits. The chapter “Ge” says: “Beyond the four seas there is no end, yet it is still like the land of Qi.” Travel east to Ying, and the people there are just the same; ask what lies east of Ying, and what you see is still Ying. Travel west to You, and the people there are likewise just the same; ask what lies west of You, and what you see is still You.

The radiance between Heaven and Earth floats and hangs in space.

The seasons turn, the sun and moon alternate, and their movements seem to revolve in suspension.

To let life follow the course of fate and to keep things apart from one another is called “time.”

Following nature and moving without the slightest interruption is called “life.” The changes and movements of the four seasons simply unfold as they will. In spring, Wood Qi spreads outward; in autumn, Metal Qi draws inward; in summer, Fire Qi blazes; in winter, Water Qi turns cold. This is like the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, each with its own function, none able to take the place of another. The four seasons, too, can only unfold as they will.

Things that are connected with one another yet remain distinct are called the “Dao” (the Way).

The Dao has times when it is blocked and times when it flows freely.

The Dao links all things and governs Heaven and Earth. Below Heaven and Earth…. When all things come together and share a single root, they are called the “universe.”

What contains the heavens is called “space”; what extends space is called “time.” The two depend on each other to exist, which is why they are said to come together and share a single root.

Understand space, and nothing will be beyond your capacity to contain. Space exists in reality, yet has no fixed boundaries. Understand its principle, and you can embrace all things.

Understand time, and nothing will feel lacking. Time continues without end, yet has no origin that can be traced. Understand its principle, and you will feel that nothing is missing.

Understand De (Virtue/Power), the inner principle followed by all things, and nothing will be impossible to settle into place. Understand its principle, and you will make no distinctions about where you find yourself, but accept it with ease.

Understand the Dao, and nothing will be impossible to follow. Understand its principle, and you will neither refuse nor resist whatever Heaven bestows upon you.

Understand all things, and you will know why they are as they are. Follow their inherent conditions and act in accordance with them, and each thing will find rest in its own nature.

To know only the One without understanding the Dao is not yet to grasp the whole. One who cannot see the limits of their own understanding cannot gather all things into a whole.

Once, someone set out walking without knowing where to go. Searching blindly as they went, they were bound to become confused.

Once, a man who had lost his sheep said, “There are forks within the forked roads. I didn’t know which way to go, so I had to turn back.” Duzi said, “The Great Way has so many forks that people lose their sheep; those who study can also lose themselves because there are so many methods.”

If you seek what you do not know by pursuing appearances alone, you are bound not to find it.

“Images”—the forms in which words and things appear—are merely tools for grasping what the mind intends, like the basket used to catch fish or the snare used to catch rabbits. If we seek truths we do not understand by relying only on these tools, without discerning the deeper meaning beyond words and images, how could we obtain their essence? The wheelwright says, “What you are reading is no more than the dregs of the ancients.” The Master of the Pheasant Cap (Heguanzi) was presumably trying to awaken the unenlightened and dispel their doubts, so that they might devote themselves to seeking the Dao and grasp its principles beyond words and images. That is why he spoke this way. The text continues:

Everyone is obscured by what they cannot see, cut off by what they cannot hear, blocked by places they cannot enter, limited by what they cannot do, and constrained by forces they cannot overcome. Ordinary people are enveloped by these five limitations, yet do not understand their nature. Before events take shape, a crisis may show no sign, but the principles connected with it are already present.

That is why there can be “war without an army” and “mourning without funeral garments”: people take life and death, safety and danger lightly because they do not understand the reasons behind them. For this very reason, we must come to understand these principles.

When mosquitoes and horseflies fall into a valley a thousand fathoms deep, they can still fly, displaying the motions of flight. Here, “soaring” means flying high; “gliding” means spreading the wings and flying with little movement. Cattle and horses, by contrast, plunge into the valley and are smashed to pieces, unable to keep their bodies whole. From this we see that the larger the body, the more awkward its movement; the heavier the body, the more severe the damage it suffers.

This means that when people of high rank and status fall, the calamity they suffer is often great. The Laozi says, “Why should the ruler of a great kingdom lightly place himself amid the affairs of the world?”

Military action means risking death in pursuit of survival, crossing danger to attain security. For this reason, words must prove true, and the way one acts must accord with reality. Only when it accords with reality can it bring abundance.

Words must first prove true before the way one acts can be appropriate. Here, “the Way” also means acting and putting something into practice.

A tiny mosquito biting the skin can keep someone awake all night. Half a grain of chaff falling into the eye can make the surrounding scene impossible to see clearly. Must what is called obscuration always mean being blocked by a broad curtain, or hidden behind a curtain or screen? Finely woven fabric is called “□,” while loosely woven fabric is called “thin.” Zhou Ping could not see what was before him; one could also say he was obscured.

Long ago, a man from Qi went to the market early in the morning and snatched someone else’s gold. As he seized it, he saw only the gold and failed to see the people around him. This shows that craving can disturb the mind. Does something really have to block one’s view from every side for one to be considered obscured?

Thus, when the eyes are diseased, one may look at things and still not see them; when the ears are impaired, one may listen closely and still not hear. A person’s capacity for understanding is constrained along with the objects they hear and see. When understanding is blocked, one’s actions and the resources on which they depend are depleted as well.

The obstructing Qi disperses in every direction, and the force that governs from above can no longer endure. Things then dissipate and decline. The Way requires the appropriate conditions before it can arrive; one might also say that it becomes manifest once the conditions are aligned. This can be seen in the Classic of Changes.

To accomplish something, one must have the corresponding De. De means understanding what enables something to be accomplished and what is gained once it is done. Only with that understanding can one say, “This is something I can accomplish.” The key to accomplishing things is to follow Wuwei (non-action); one should not insist on forcing the results to come.

When De reaches its utmost, the subtle must be apprehended by the heart-mind. A ruler cannot take this understanding directly from a minister, nor can a son offer it directly to his father. It can only be attained for oneself. And where, then, does its arrival have a fixed source?

By examining these phenomena closely, we can see the principle at work: look back to the past to observe the present, and you will understand why people still fail to recognize it. Those who set up a marker before taking measurements are not confused; those who cut according to established rules do not hesitate. This shows that they have standards to consult in their minds. Without a marker when measuring or rules when cutting, it is easy to fall into confusion.

Confusion does not arise because the light of the sun and moon, the order of the four seasons, or the courses of the stars are lacking. It comes from going against these patterns and seeing them as reversed. The Liezi says that people may perceive the four quarters of Heaven and Earth, water and fire, and cold and heat as upside down and disordered. This is the kind of situation it describes.

Confusion is simply seeing things the wrong way. Why assume that the things themselves do not exist? The deeper the confusion, the more intently people stare; yet the more they look, the more disoriented they become, until they even feel that the directions have changed. “Staring urgently” refers to the earlier example of a person with an eye disorder looking in all four directions. The Book of Documents compares this to seeing blossoms in the air with diseased eyes: there are no blossoms in the air; they are only a false perception caused by illness. “Severe” means grave, and “directions reversed” means that the points of the compass seem to have changed places, as in the Nanhua Jing—another name for the Zhuangzi—where the four quarters of Heaven and Earth exchange positions. When the illness is serious, a person feels that all directions are wrong; it is more than mere blurring before the eyes.

Warfare requires signs that can verify what is true; reasoning, too, requires evidence to support it. Only those who are not confused can see this evidence clearly. Every preparation must be made in advance, and plans must be settled early; otherwise, confusion will follow.

Warfare must accord with the lay of the land and arrange forces according to the directions of the Five Phases (Wood, Metal, Fire, Water, and Earth): Wood belongs on the left, Metal on the right, Fire in front, Water behind, and Earth at the center. The placement of camps and deployment of troops must both be appropriate. When the five directions are correctly arranged, everything can be carried out properly.

“Zhaoyao” refers to the tip of the Big Dipper’s handle, which people in ancient times used to determine direction.

Those who repair the army arrange its ranks below.

The Book of Rites says that when an army marches, the Vermilion Bird, the divine beast of the south, is arrayed in front; the Black Tortoise, the divine beast of the north, behind; the Azure Dragon, the divine beast of the east, on the left; and the White Tiger, the divine beast of the west, on the right. Above is the star Zhaoyao, and morale must be swiftly roused. “Repair” also carries the sense of sustaining and reviving. When the drum first sounds for an advance, morale is at its height; with a second advance it begins to wane, and by the third it is spent. Thus, those skilled in warfare can sustain and revive morale, so that it does not wane with a second attack or run out with a third. This is why the Yellow Emperor fought repeatedly without his army being defeated.

Take Heaven as your model, and observe the signs of the four seasons.

“To seek signs in the four seasons” means to observe their patterns.

In spring, adopt the image of the Azure Dragon, the divine beast of the east; in summer, that of the Red Bird, the divine beast of the south; in autumn, that of the White Tiger, the divine beast of the west; and in winter, that of the Black Tortoise, the divine beast of the north. Once you have grasped the principles governing the movement of Heaven and Earth, what cannot be brought into order? The place where patterns reside is called “Earth”; the place where spirits manifest is called “Heaven.” Understand the Dao of Heaven, and a single action can bring all four quarters to fulfillment, while all things arise together and each comes to fulfillment in its own way. As for the phrase “the crow rides in procession, □ flies with hanging □,” its meaning is unclear.

Thus, those skilled in planning in ancient times did not seek gain; they sought to understand the patterns of things. Those skilled in warfare in ancient times did not seek victory for its own sake; they sought to understand the principles that bring victory. Have you never seen people who live in seclusion and conceal themselves? Even if someone first learns that they exist, those who truly understand them have already seen through their circumstances. Those who do not understand them may not grasp them even when a teacher explains.

Recluses conceal themselves deeply and are difficult to understand. Those skilled in warfare must therefore truly understand the way to victory.

How tragic that those blinded by appearances and closed in mind collapse before they have been defeated, and are captured before they have died. To seize a state by force is the glory of arms; to gain a state without using force is the glory of civil rule.

Scholars increasingly esteem military force, yet the world has not thereby come to value civil rule more highly.

Though the principle is expressed in two phrases, its actual meaning is one; only the wording differs.

Some editions read, “extremely sparing, and yet miserly.” In military campaigns, if one is excessively harsh and cruel, the fault lies in lacking benevolence.

Such principles could be discussed without end. The ear can distinguish various tones, but cannot create them; the eye can see different shapes, but cannot create them; the mouth can speak of the way of the spirits, but cannot become a spirit.

These words show that teachers and craftspeople can teach people rules and standards, but cannot directly impart skill. Hence the text continues:

The eye can see different shapes, but cannot create them; the mouth can speak of the way of the spirits, but cannot become a spirit. These words show that teachers and craftspeople can teach people rules and standards, but cannot directly impart skill.

Thus the former kings followed the methods handed down by their teachers: if they sent the deluded on their way, they would lose their way and never return; if they wanted them not to go, they had to stop them before they set out.

“To awaken the unenlightened” means to dispel their ignorance. The Nanhua Jing, another name for the Zhuangzi, says: “If the Master had not lifted the veil from my eyes, I could not have seen the full scope of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things.”

“To release bonds and remove thorns” means to free people from restraints and pull out what pricks them. A “bond” is like a rope that binds; a “thorn” is like a needle piercing the body.

When a dark place is made bright, people come to understand things clearly. Such a person can explain what is fitting and judge where the dangers lie. “Shuo” means to bring to a halt, while “shi” means to proceed.

Their insight surpasses custom and ordinary people; their strategies rise above those of the crowd. They can take on the difficulties ahead and clarify those that follow. Here, “zhang” means to make clear: they can discern the past and infer what is to come.

By overseeing the affairs of the realm without overlooking anything, one can see through the schemes of distant enemy states and avoid falling under the enemy’s control.

The methods for winning battles and seizing territory can meet every change without being exhausted. One guiding principle can direct the myriad affairs without requiring personal control of each one. Grasp the essentials, and strength will be ample and action unimpeded. From this, all kinds of things come into being, and one’s reputation spreads.

All things grow according to their own kinds, and where brilliance shines forth, a reputation arises. Di may be a variant form of the word “brilliance”; it means to shine forth.

The court is where reputations are made. The Commentary says, “Those who contend for fame do so at court; those who contend for profit do so in the marketplace.”

One must investigate how the capable (or, in another reading, the worthy) relate to the changing patterns of things, and get to the root of the axe and the shield. The axe is used to kill the enemy; the shield, to protect oneself. Understand what each is for, and you understand the use of arms. The character rong is made up of “spear” and “armor,” and expresses the principles of warfare.

This is called “transmission without fixed methods”—a transmission that does not cling to any set procedure.

Only by probing change to its depths and reaching a state free of fixed forms can one adapt to change and understand how things work. The Southern Flower (another name for the Zhuangzi) says, “To impose the institutions of the Zhou on the state of Lu today would be like trying to push a boat over dry land: it would take great effort and achieve nothing. This is because one does not understand the method that has no fixed rule, changes with circumstances, and can be applied without limit.”

This manifests in boundless space. In some versions, yu (“space”) is written as bo (“vastness”). When handling affairs, if one has not clearly grasped the inner principles, one cannot fully bring their effects to bear outwardly. If one cannot comprehend what is within, one cannot succeed in what is without.

Warfare involves the right time, favorable terrain, and human harmony.

The right time, favorable terrain, and human harmony.

When the art of war reaches its highest point, it encompasses the full potential of the human way.

When the human way reaches its highest point, it connects with the way of Earth.

When the way of Earth reaches its highest point, it connects with the way of Heaven.

When Heaven and Earth are in harmony, the right time, favorable terrain, and human harmony come together.

When the art of war reaches its highest point, it encompasses the full potential of the human way; when the human way reaches its highest point, it connects with the way of Earth; when the way of Earth reaches its highest point, it connects with the way of Heaven.

The right time brings victory, favorable terrain provides support, and human harmony brings success.

Therefore, those skilled in the use of arms treat war with care. The right time brings victory, favorable terrain provides support, and human harmony brings success. Once these three are understood, what plan cannot be worked out?

Heaven is not shown to bring victory because it can be seen or verified. The way of Heaven is deep and difficult to fathom, and cannot be verified through concrete things; yet its power remains unconquerable.

Could it be that the growing force of its influence causes all things to submit to it?

Here, “force” refers to states such as rest, flourishing, isolation, and emptiness in the movement of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

Heaven and Earth bring forth all things, sometimes making them into one kind of thing or another, yet never fully confining them to their original forms. Could it be that the growing Yin influence causes all things to submit to it?

Here, “force” still refers to states such as rest, flourishing, isolation, and emptiness in the movement of the Five Phases.

Heaven and Earth bring forth all things without fixing them as any one thing. The fundamental basis for this lies in the transformations of Yin-Yang. The four seasons pass in turn through growth and storage, never departing from their proper order.

The Nanhua (another name for the Zhuangzi) says, “Spring and summer come first, autumn and winter follow: this is the order in which the spirits operate.”

This also involves the adapting of musical pitches.

Some notes stir the Jue pitch; others manifest as the Shang pitch, and so on.

Some of the subtleties of musical pitch cannot be put into words; their effects are wonderfully refined.

Their function is not limited to surface methods that can be taught, so they cannot be conveyed fully through speech.

Thus, in studying military strategy, one must first master the timing of Heaven and the art of adaptation. One deploys troops according to the Five Phases and directs battle with the Five Tones (musical pitches associated with the Five Phases and the directions). On the left, one takes support from the directions associated with the Gong and Jue pitches; on the right, one draws aid from those associated with the Shang and Yu pitches.

The meaning of this sentence is unclear.

When going to war, the ruler should remain in the rear, serving as a support for the army.

The character “zheng” means to be positioned behind.

By using a certain method, one can transform an untrained and disorganized force.

“Group” means the people. Han Xin said, “Without officers who had been selected, trained, and reassured, could I have driven ordinary townspeople onto the battlefield? If I did not place them where death was certain and make each person fight with all their strength, how could I have mobilized them?” He seems to have understood this principle.

“Land drowning” is also written “steps drowning.” It refers to someone becoming trapped on dry land as though submerged in water. The idea may be that a skilled user of unconventional tactics can create a situation through hidden plans in which even level ground seems to surge with wind and waves.

Thus, he can move in and out, open passages, or block them.

Even without water, he can create wind and waves. In this way, even if the enemy surges like a river, he can make it run dry. The Xunzi says, “Block the source and open the tributaries, and even rivers and lakes will dry up.”

If one relies exclusively on Metal’s De—its power of severity and conquest—without allowing the other four Phases to work in coordination, the resulting harm will be as described below.

Cutting off the guiding principles of the Dao throws the order of Heaven’s operations into disarray. Going against the nature of the myriad things likewise causes the Dao of Heaven to lose its governing order. The resulting calamity is scorching, destructive drought.

“Scorching calamity” means a severe drought. Harmony among the four seasons cannot be achieved, so Heaven responds with drought. The Laozi says, “There will surely be years of calamity.” This probably refers to such a situation.

To avoid disorder and rebellion, one must carefully examine the subtle workings of the Dao of Heaven. “Heaven’s essence” probably refers to the finest substance of the Dao of Heaven; a character is missing at this point in the original text. If the Dao of Heaven loses its essence, then the three armies have no substance. How could anything be full without essence? This means it is impossible. In the growth of the myriad things, some reveal their essence before they are fully formed, but nothing can become full without first revealing its essence.

Only one who is constantly wise and lucid, understands both ancient and present, and can make a single day seem to return to its beginning can be relied upon by Heaven and Earth and join with them. Here, “True Sage” means a sage whose cultivation has reached a pure state. The commentaries say that at this level, Heaven and Earth become one with me, and neither the Five Phases nor the five tones can govern or constrain me; one may even transcend the bounds of Yin-Yang. Yet without reaching this state, how could one abandon the arts of Yin-Yang?

Thus, the Tianquan Shenqu Wuyin Shu Bing Yiyan says:

This passage probably quotes a military text, whose title may indeed be Tianquan Shenqu Wuyin Shu Bing Yiyan.

Using fortune and misfortune to make principles clear, things fit together like matching tally-slips. All affairs begin in thought and are brought to completion through action, yet they fail through fear.

Chapter Eighteen: The Capacity of Heaven

Investigating how the Sage’s mind works…

The underlying logic of affairs is subtle and hard to see; only afterward does it become apparent. Here, “circumstances” refers to the true conditions of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things. The point is that the Sage first gains a thorough understanding of these conditions, then responds to things accordingly.

The myriad things disperse and change without any fixed direction, so one must seek principles by which to examine and grasp them. The Dao takes centrality and correctness as its constant, so one should observe the myriad things by means of the principles of centrality and correctness.

To understand the principles of the world is like understanding the principles of Heaven and Earth. The sage exhausts the principles of the world, and only then can respond appropriately to the myriad things.

Thoughts disperse without a fixed direction, yet one still seeks clarity; this clarity may become a lasting standard. The Dao moves within the ordinary and moderate realm, so clarity must be sought.

Once one has gone beyond the subtle and mysterious principles, one no longer clings to the myriad things. The character “yi” here has the same meaning as “yi” in “going beyond customary norms.” The sage goes beyond the world’s ordinary principles, then forgets external things.

When facing a clear and profound realm, one’s thoughts remain cautious. The Dao moves within the ordinary and moderate realm, so thought must be cautious.

Set the boundaries of the Six Directions—Heaven and Earth and the four quarters—without making people feel constrained.

Seek clarity even in the subtlest thoughts, and remain cautious even in the most mysterious depths. This is why the Dao is vast without being unrestrained, and subtle without being constricting. Thus the sage can set the boundaries of the Six Directions without being confined. “The Six Directions” means Heaven and Earth and the four quarters; “jiao” means to constrain. To “set boundaries” here means to take them as limits: beyond the Six Directions, the sage acknowledges that things exist but does not discuss them; within the Six Directions, the sage may speak about things but does not argue over them.

Observe what cannot be named. Some versions read “shui mu” instead of “shui mo”; the meaning is close to “wu he,” a realm that is difficult to name and impossible to grasp.

Listen for and discern what has no form or image, remaining free of all attachments. Speak of what is deep and remote with a tranquil mind, undisturbed by confusion. In this way, one transcends the world and stands in the Great Clarity, the Daoist realm of pure emptiness. One goes alone, with no companion; one returns alone, with no one by one’s side.

Do not seek completeness in every matter, and have few entanglements. Be content with a simple life, and so do not seek completeness; roam through realms of solitude and stillness, and so have few entanglements.

Be alone without seeking company, because one never deliberately sets up another as an opponent. In this way, one is free of fault and reaches the utmost in cleansing the heart and clearing away distracting thoughts.

Arrive calmly, alone. This is what is meant by “reaching without acting.”

Perceive in advance what has not yet appeared; see what is about to happen before it becomes evident.

Grasp the changes that follow upon what has no beginning; proceed in harmony, without being the first to initiate.

Weigh the coming and going of things and act in accordance with the circumstances. Observe their rise and decline: what has passed recedes, while what has recently arrived flourishes.

Things condense and come into being through changes between movement and stillness, giving rise to their original function, like the reeds that sound in a mouth organ.

“Condensing” is like becoming full; “coming into being” is like flowering. To act in accord with Heaven and Earth is to model one’s conduct on them.

The natural forms of things cannot be altered; odd and even numbers cannot be increased or diminished; and no one can control the signs of success and failure for long. “Er” means “you,” and “zhang” refers to an official who governs the people. The point here is that rulers, too, must follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth.

Thus, when something is established in accord with the Dao, Earth can make it stand firm; when something turns toward collapse in defiance of the Dao, Earth cannot make it stand firm. When something is secure in accord with the Dao, Earth can keep it secure; when something falls into danger in defiance of the Dao, Earth cannot keep it secure. When something survives in accord with the Dao, Heaven can sustain it; when something moves toward death in defiance of the Dao, Heaven cannot keep it alive. When something is preserved in accord with the Dao, Heaven can preserve it; when something moves toward ruin in defiance of the Dao, Heaven cannot make it endure.

Security and danger arise from circumstances. How, then, can Heaven’s Dao be blamed? What part could the spirits and gods play in this? What is straight is propelled along its course; what is crooked is left to follow its nature. Security, danger, survival, and death all arise from one’s own actions and circumstances. How could Heaven’s Dao favor one side, and what could the spirits and gods intervene in?

“One” is the most virtuous state within De, yet it has not escaped the realm of number. The sage is what the worthy aspire to; here, “love” means admiration. The Dao is what sages practice and uphold; “shi” is used in the sense of “employ” or “practice.” What the Perfected One, a person who has reached the highest state, attains is precisely the Dao. The Perfected One does not depart from their true nature: the Dao is therefore what the sage practices and what the Perfected One embodies.

The Dao at its highest cannot be captured in a drawing, encompassed by a name, expressed in words, or portrayed in appearance. It is like a gate, a symbol of passage into the Dao.

The Dao can be understood as a universal principle that can be put into words. The worthy and the unworthy, the clever and the foolish, all emerge from and return to the Dao, yet they are not thereby made different. The Dao opens the way for all things and enables them to function. It simply lets each thing follow its own course; it does not make all things alike, nor does it arrange them in a fixed order.

Thus, the sage embodies the Dao, but the Dao is not the same as the sage. The sage presides over the Dao: the Dao brings all things into connection, while the sage establishes order among them. This is why there is a Dao followed by the former kings, but no former king who existed before the Dao. What follows elaborates on the idea that “the sage embodies the Dao, but the Dao is not the same as the sage.”

Although the sage is born after Heaven and Earth, he can know their beginning; although he passes away before Heaven and Earth, he can know their end. His power is less than theirs, yet he understands the responsibilities they bear. His force is less than that of Yin-Yang, yet he can establish standards for all things. He is less numerous than all things, yet he can set norms for them. He is less beautiful than the myriad beings, yet he can commend good conduct and point out faults. His De is less abundant than the Dao, yet he can honor De. The Book of Changes says, “Nothing surpasses wealth and rank in exaltedness.” “High” refers to rank; “exalted” refers to abundance.

The sage does not shine in all directions as brilliantly as the spirits, yet he can become the lord of all things; some versions read “king.” He is not as hidden and unfathomable as ghosts and spirits, yet he can make their efficacy manifest. He is not as hard as metal and stone, yet he can forge strength. He does not possess the distinct forms of the square and the round, yet he can display and present the shapes of all things. Since ancient times, what was established through the Dao and remains unchanged to this day includes the four seasons and Mount Tai. What was placed in danger through the Dao and has yet to find stability includes such places as Lingluan, Yin, and Xi; the wording here varies considerably among different versions.

“Ling” is pronounced and understood like “ling,” meaning to wither and fall; “yin” means to block or obstruct.

“Tuomu brings down the wind”: here, “tuo” is pronounced and understood like “tuo,” meaning to shed; “bring down” means to descend.

Those who attained the Dao and endured, remaining undiminished even to this day, are the sun, moon, and stars. Those who attained the Dao and then perished, and could not be preserved to the present, are the ling leaves that wither at the first frost and the morning dew that vanishes in the sun. Thus, the sage takes guidance from the overall configuration of things rather than examining every detail one by one. What is meant by “configuration” is a unified grasp held within oneself; “examination” is a scattering of attention among external things. The myriad things in the world are tangled and diverse, yet what did not arise from the One? Can the One make the myriad things simpler? Once one has attained the One, matters become easy to grasp.

Therefore, one should examine people’s circumstances and observe how things change. The mouth is used to express the sincerity within, yet sometimes a speaker may not listen to or accept another’s advice, or may not investigate a matter thoroughly. (“Yu” can mean “yes” or “agree”; “shou” means to listen to or accept.) Some people promote their own views, but what they say goes beyond the facts. Thus, people whose conduct differs criticize one another, and those who follow different paths come into conflict.

Partial words distort things; the sage knows what they depart from. “Partial words” perhaps refers to claims like those of Gaozi: he regarded righteousness as something external, unlike the sage. Hence the claim that such words throw things off course.

Excessive words attach themselves to things; the sage knows what they accord with. “Excessive words” perhaps refers to claims like those of Mozi: he advocated universal care, which includes something the sage would affirm. Hence the claim that such words attach themselves to things.

Deceptive words obstruct things; the sage knows what they conceal. Here, “deception” carries the sense of crookedness.

Evasive words seek support from things; the sage knows where they reach their limit. “Limit” means exhaustion. For example, Yi Zhi said, “This is how Heaven has decreed it,” using Heaven’s decree as an explanation. As for an upright person, when faced with deceptive words, they too know what those words conceal.

Then, to continue, let us explain it.

“Indirect speech” is language that avoids speaking directly and uses things as a means of expression. Yi said, “This is determined by fate.” The sage knows where the limits of such claims lie. Here, “limit” means an endpoint or boundary.

“Proper speech” is language that benefits things. It is neither biased nor excessive, neither crooked nor evasive; this is called proper speech. The sage knows the bounds established by the right way: whatever can be tested or discerned may be explained, but what lies beyond the reach of understanding must not be spoken of recklessly. The mind cannot reach the most subtle points of convergence—how much less can words express them?

Only after clearly explaining the relationship between what is within and what is without can one judge people and things. One can compare them with each other only after understanding both the inner and the outer.

The Dao is one and unique, yet it cannot be seen or claimed as the possession of any one person. Take an abyss as a comparison: it is unfathomably deep, its waters ripple without cease, as though no amount of flow could ever drain it. The Dao’s capacity to nourish and its movement are inexhaustible; no one can make it run dry.

Even the Perfected Person—one of the highest virtue and cultivation—must train the spirit, sharpen the senses, and discipline body and mind, bringing the self into accord with the Dao, like tally halves that fit together exactly. Nothing is overlooked, whether in detail or as a whole; everything is accessible, whether near or far, askew or upright. Thus, one whose virtue influences ten thousand people is called an “outstanding talent”; one who influences a thousand is called a “hero”; one who influences a hundred is called an “elite.” “Sage,” then, is a general term that gathers together all kinds of principle.

Another edition, after “Therefore, ‘sage’ is a general term for what is spoken,” adds: “Observing and discerning people is the achievement of a sage.” The editions differ in what follows. One account speaks of gathering the teachings of the various schools to become a sage, and so says that “sage” is a general term. “General” means a designation that brings the essentials together.

King Wuling, Chapter Nineteen

King Wuling (Zhao Wuling, ruler of the state of Zhao) asked Pang Huan (also called Pang Nuan; the commentary says he was probably Pang Nuan’s elder brother):

I have heard the saying: “Winning a hundred battles is not the highest skill. Winning without fighting is the highest skill.” I would like to hear the reasoning behind it.

Pang Huan replied, “What matters most to a truly skilled person is not contending with others.”

Thus the highest skill is to use strategy; next is to adapt to and make use of human affairs; the poorest course is to win through battle. To use strategy means to mislead the ruler of an enemy state, causing him to change his policies and indulge in excess, or encouraging bad customs to spread until he is led astray by them.

If the ruler of an enemy state is cruel and arrogant, gives free rein to his impulses, and knows nothing of how to govern; if he favors certain people and draws them close at will; grants titles without merit and rewards without effort; pardons criminals when pleased and kills recklessly when angered; claims to be careful in punishing the people but still subjects them to penalties; looks down on the people while imagining himself wise; undertakes grand but useless projects; and places his faith in divination—these can all provide conditions for strategy to succeed.

To “adapt to human affairs” means giving gifts and money to bribe the ruler’s close attendants and silence them so they no longer offer counsel. It also means making everything the ruler considers right appear wrong, and everything he considers wrong appear right, so that he turns away from loyal ministers.

To “win through battle” means launching an attack only after the enemy state has declined. King Goujian of Yue once used this strategy to destroy Wu; the state of Chu also used it to bring Chen and Cai under its authority. The three houses of Han, Zhao, and Wei in Jin likewise used this method to destroy the Zhi clan; Han then gained the eastern lands of Jin as its share.

By using this method, the three houses—the Han, Zhao, and Wei of Jin—brought about the destruction of the Zhi house. Some versions read “crippled” instead.

The Han house used this method and expanded eastward.

In the twelfth year of Duke Qing of Jin, Han Xuanzi joined the Zhao and Wei houses in dividing among them ten counties belonging to the Qi and Dan-she houses. Is this what “expanded eastward” refers to?

People who discuss the use of troops today always say that the strong are bound to win and the weak are bound to perish. If that were so, the ruler of a small state could never achieve the work of a hegemon, and the ruler of a great state with ten thousand chariots could never suffer defeat and destruction. In the past, the Xia dynasty had vast territory while Tang of Shang was weak; Yin-Shang was powerful while Zhou was weak; Yue was weak while Wu was strong. These are cases of “winning without fighting”—the highest of the high. This is the method of the Yinjing, a military text said to have been written by the Yellow Emperor.

Marching by night belongs to the category of “Heavenly Martial” methods of warfare. Today, the two sides may lie dead in their hundreds of thousands, with blood flowing like rivers across a thousand li, and still the outcome remains undecided. If one calculates each gain and loss, the result is often not worth the cost. Thus the sage sees clearly into the nature of things and reflects alone on methods of the “Heavenly Martial” kind. Some versions instead say “alone understands its blessings,” or “alone rejoices with delight.”

As for those who hear the sound of gongs and drums and immediately hope to win distinction, see the colors of banners and immediately hope to form ranks, grasp a weapon by its handle and immediately hope to fight, or, when deploying, advancing, and engaging, think only of victory—this is precisely the conduct that brought Lord Xiang to defeat and ruin.

Lord Wuling sighed and said, “The survival or destruction of a state is so closely bound up with oneself! Blessings arise from this. Having heard these words, from now on I will use them each day to examine myself.” In the past, those who truly cultivated De did not defy Heaven’s mandate; those who grasped the essentials did not speak at length.

The final section of Heguanzi ends here.

The following notes record textual variants: differences in wording among editions, as well as characters the editor supplied or changed based on other editions or the meaning of the passage. For example, one edition has “zhen” where another has “zhen,” and one has “xie” where another has “xie.” Some characters are missing from the Daozang edition or were altered to avoid tabooed characters, so the editor corrected them with reference to the Siku edition, other editions, or the surrounding context.

The notes also record variant readings of entire sentences: some editions contain or omit several characters, while others mistakenly treat a sentence as a commentary. In these notes, phrases such as “missing in the original,” “supplied from…” and “now changed according to…” indicate, respectively, that the original text lacks characters, that the editor added them by consulting other editions, and that the editor changed characters based on the meaning or evidence from other editions.