《观物篇》

Among all things in the world, nothing is greater than Heaven and Earth, yet each has its own bounds. The vastness of Heaven is encompassed by the changes of Yin and Yang; the vastness of Earth is encompassed by the changes of firmness and softness. The changes of Yin and Yang give rise to the four seasons, while the changes of firmness and softness give rise to the four directions.

The four seasons and the four directions together encompass the greatest reaches of Heaven and Earth. Nothing that can be called vast extends beyond them. Heaven and Earth never presume themselves to be vast; for this very reason, they achieve their vastness. Could this not be called the greatest of all?

Heaven arises through movement, and Earth arises through stillness. When movement and stillness join, the principles governing Heaven and Earth are fully contained within them.

When movement first begins, Yang Qi (vital energy) arises; when movement reaches its extreme, Yin Qi arises. Through their alternating changes, the workings of Heaven are fully contained.

When stillness first begins, softness arises; when stillness reaches its extreme, firmness arises. Through their alternating changes, the workings of Earth are fully contained.

Of the forces active in movement, the strongest is called Greater Yang, and the weaker Lesser Yang; of those active in stillness, the strongest is called Greater Yin, and the weaker Lesser Yin.

Greater Yang corresponds to the sun, Greater Yin to the moon, Lesser Yang to the stars, and Lesser Yin to the constellations marking the passage of time. The sun, moon, stars, and constellations interweave, thereby forming the visible body of Heaven.

Water is the softest of things, and fire the hardest; earth is comparatively soft, and stone comparatively hard. Water, fire, earth, and stone join together, thereby forming the visible body of Earth.

The sun corresponds to heat, the moon to cold, the stars to daytime, and the constellations to nighttime. Heat, cold, day, and night alternate, thereby revealing the changes of Heaven.

Water corresponds to rain, fire to wind, earth to dew, and stone to thunder. Rain, wind, dew, and thunder transform in relation to one another, thereby revealing Earth’s power to generate and transform things.

Summer heat alters the nature of all things; cold alters their disposition; daylight alters their form; and night alters their substance. Nature, disposition, form, and substance interact and transform one another, encompassing all the responses of animals and plants.

Rain transforms all things into walking beasts, wind into flying birds, dew into grasses, and thunder into trees. Walking beasts, flying birds, grasses, and trees respond to and transform one another, encompassing all the responses manifested by animals and plants.

When a walking beast responds to summer heat and changes, its nature manifests the image of a walking beast. When it responds to cold and changes, its disposition manifests that image. When it responds to daylight and changes, its form manifests that image. When it responds to night and changes, its substance manifests that image.

When a flying bird responds to summer heat and changes, its nature manifests the image of a flying bird. When it responds to cold and changes, its disposition manifests that image. When it responds to daylight and changes, its form manifests that image. When it responds to night and changes, its substance manifests that image.

When grass responds to summer heat and changes, its nature manifests the image of grass. When it responds to night and changes, its substance manifests the image of a walking beast.

When flying birds respond to summer heat, cold, daylight, and night and change, they respectively manifest the images of their nature, disposition, form, and substance.

When grass responds to summer heat, cold, daylight, and night and changes, it respectively manifests the images of its nature, disposition, form, and substance.

When trees respond to summer heat, cold, daylight, and night and change, they respectively manifest the images of their nature, disposition, form, and substance.

In terms of “nature,” what responds to rain and comes into being is the nature of walking beasts; what responds to wind and comes into being is the nature of flying birds; what responds to dew and comes into being is the nature of grass; and what responds to thunder and comes into being is the nature of trees.

In terms of “disposition,” what responds to rain, wind, dew, and thunder and comes into being is, respectively, the disposition of walking beasts, flying birds, grass, and trees.

In terms of “form,” what responds to rain, wind, dew, and thunder and comes into being is, respectively, the form of walking beasts, flying birds, grass, and trees.

All things possess forms that respond to and change with the world around them. Rain brings change to the forms of land animals; wind changes the forms of birds; dew changes the forms of grasses; and thunder changes the forms of trees.

Land animals, birds, grasses, and trees each have four aspects: nature, feeling, form, and body. Their natures correspond to colors, their feelings to sounds, their forms to scents, and their bodies to flavors. More specifically, all four aspects of land animals correspond to the ears; those of birds to the eyes; those of grasses to the mouth; and those of trees to the nose.

Human beings are different. In heat or cold, by day or by night, they change with the seasons and their surroundings. They also respond to rain, wind, dew, and thunder. Their nature, feeling, form, and body are likewise affected, and they can respond to land animals, birds, grasses, and trees. People use their eyes to discern the colors of all things, their ears to hear their sounds, their noses to sense their scents, and their mouths to taste their flavors. Is it not only natural that human beings can attune themselves to all things?

Human beings possess greater perceptiveness than all other things because the eyes can sense their colors, the ears can hear their sounds, the nose can smell their scents, and the mouth can distinguish their flavors. Sounds, colors, scents, and flavors make up the concrete forms of all things; the eyes, ears, mouth, and nose are the faculties through which people perceive them.

The forms of things have no fixed, unchanging function; they function only as circumstances change. Their functions, too, have no fixed, unchanging form; forms emerge only as things transform. Form and function interpenetrate, and in this way the principles governing human beings and all things are made complete. Thus, Heaven is also a thing, and a sage is still a human being.

Some things can stand for one thing; others can stand for ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred million, or a trillion things. What can stand for a trillion things—is it not the human being?

Some people stand for just one person; others stand for ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred million, or even a trillion people. Who can stand for a trillion people—is it not the sage?

From this we can see that human beings are the most outstanding among all things, and sages are the most outstanding among human beings. Only someone who is the most outstanding among all things can become a figure who represents hundreds of millions or trillions of people. And who can represent a trillion people, if not the sage?

From this we can see that human beings are the most outstanding among all things, and sages are the most outstanding among human beings. Only what reaches the utmost can be called “the finest among all things”; only a person who reaches the utmost can be called “the finest among human beings.” The “finest among all things” is what is supreme; the “finest among human beings” is a person of the highest stature. If there is something supreme worthy of being matched with a person of the highest stature, what could that person be but a sage? I cannot believe that such a person would not count as a sage.

Why do I say this? Because a sage can use one heart to understand the hearts of countless people, infer the circumstances of countless people from their own, see all things through a single thing, and infer all ages from one era. A sage can also use their own heart to discern Heaven’s intent, their own words to convey it, their own hands to carry out Heaven’s work, and their own person to take on the tasks entrusted by Heaven. They can follow the seasons of Heaven and respond to the conditions of the land; understand the nature of all things and know the many affairs of human life. They can also bring together the principles of Heaven and Earth, move within the transformations of creation, connect past and present, and see the affairs of their age from every inner and outer perspective.

Alas, sages do not appear in every age for people to see with their own eyes and take as models. Though I cannot see a sage with my own eyes, I can examine their aspirations, observe their actions, investigate their true nature, and quietly discern their workings. Even after a span of thousands upon thousands of years, I can still recognize them by understanding the principles at work.

Someone once told me, “Beyond Heaven and Earth, there is another Heaven and Earth, with all its myriad things, different from the Heaven and Earth and myriad things where we live.” I cannot know whether this is so. Nor can the sages. To “know” means to have a genuine understanding in the mind; to “speak” means to be able to express something in words. If the mind cannot know it, how can the mouth speak of it? To claim knowledge of what cannot be known is false knowing; to speak of what cannot be put into words is false speech. Why, then, should I follow those who make such claims and accept their false knowing and false speech?

The Book of Changes says, “Exhaust the principles of things, fully develop one’s inborn nature, and thereby come to know the Mandate of Heaven.” “Principles” are the principles proper to each thing; “nature” is the inborn nature bestowed by Heaven; “mandate” is the root that governs both the principles of things and their natures. What could govern the principles and natures of all things, if not the Dao (the Way)? From this we can see that the Dao is the root of Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth are the root of all things. Viewed from the standpoint of Heaven and Earth, each thing is itself one of the myriad things. Viewed from the standpoint of the Dao, Heaven and Earth are themselves only part of the myriad things.

The workings of the Dao are fully manifest in Heaven; the workings of Heaven are fully manifest on Earth; the workings of Heaven and Earth are fully manifest in the myriad things; and the workings of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things are ultimately manifest in humanity. Only when people understand why the workings of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things ultimately find expression in humanity can they fully understand the condition of the people.

Heaven can contain and encompass the myriad things, and so it is called Vast Heaven (Haotian). A person can understand and govern the people, and so is called a sage.

If Vast Heaven were wholly separate from the myriad things, it would not deserve the name Vast Heaven. If a sage were wholly separate from the people, he would not deserve the name sage. The people and the myriad things exist together within Heaven and Earth, and the sage, too, emerges from among the people. The sage, then, is fundamentally no different from Vast Heaven.

From this we can see that the sage and Vast Heaven belong to the same Dao (Way). Since this is so, the people and the myriad things may also be united in the same Dao. This holds for the people and myriad things of one generation, and equally for those of every generation. The principle is clear.

The High Heaven, the heavens above, nurtures and transforms the myriad things; the sages teach and transform the people. Each has four aspects. Heaven’s four aspects are spring, summer, autumn, and winter, as Yin and Yang Qi rise and fall and change through the four seasons. The sages’ four aspects are the Yijing, Shangshu, Shijing, and Chunqiu. The rise and decline of ritual and music are also reflected in the instruction conveyed by these classics.

Spring is when the myriad things begin to sprout; summer makes them grow; autumn brings them to maturity and draws them in; winter stores them away. There are many kinds of things, so they are called “the myriad things.” Even if they number in the tens of thousands upon tens of thousands, could they exceed the four patterns by which Heaven brings forth life in spring, fosters growth in summer, gathers in autumn, and stores away in winter?

The Yijing is the classic that teaches the people and enables new understanding to sprout; the Shangshu helps the people grow; the Shijing enables them to reap the harvest; and the Chunqiu teaches them what to guard against and keep in reserve. The people are numerous, so they are called “the myriad people.” Even if they number in the tens of thousands upon tens of thousands, could their instruction exceed what is encompassed by these four classics of the sages?

Heaven’s four repositories are the four seasons; the sages’ four repositories are the classics. Heaven gives the human world, in the order of the seasons, the patterns by which it transforms and nurtures the myriad things. The sages, in turn, take Heaven as their model through the classics. How should the workings of Heaven and Earth correspond to human affairs?

Observe spring, and you can understand the function of the Yijing; observe summer, and you can understand the function of the Shangshu; observe autumn, and you can understand the function of the Shijing; observe winter, and you can understand the function of the Chunqiu.

The Yijing’s account of the Yijing is the ceaseless transformation and generation of the myriad things, life giving rise to life without end. Its account of the Shangshu is how the myriad things are made to grow; its account of the Shijing is how they are brought to maturity and drawn in; and its account of the Chunqiu is how they are stored away.

Within the Book of Documents, the Book of Changes signifies enabling all things to sprout and flourish over time; the Book of Documents signifies enabling all things to grow over time; the Book of Songs signifies enabling all things to contract over time; and the Spring and Autumn Annals signify enabling all things to be stored away over time.

Within the Book of Songs, the Book of Changes signifies that sprouting still takes place amid contraction; the Book of Documents signifies that growth still takes place amid contraction; the Book of Songs signifies that contraction continues amid contraction; and the Spring and Autumn Annals signify that amid contraction, things enter into storage.

Within the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Book of Changes signifies that sprouting begins amid storage; the Book of Documents signifies that growth continues amid storage; the Book of Songs signifies that contraction gradually takes place amid storage; and the Spring and Autumn Annals signify that storage continues amid storage.

“Generating generation” means cultivating the mind and intentions; “generating growth” means cultivating one’s words; “generating contraction” means cultivating appearances; and “generating storage” means cultivating numerical principles.

“Growth and sprouting” corresponds to cultivating benevolence; “growth and growth” corresponds to cultivating ritual propriety; “growth and contraction” corresponds to cultivating righteousness; and “growth and storage” corresponds to cultivating wisdom.

“Contraction and sprouting” corresponds to cultivating one’s innate nature; “contraction and growth” corresponds to cultivating emotions; “contraction and contraction” corresponds to cultivating one’s form; and “contraction and storage” corresponds to cultivating the body.

“Storage and sprouting” corresponds to a sage; “storage and growth” to a worthy person; “storage and contraction” to a person of talent; and “storage and storage” to a person skilled in methods.

Cultivating the mind and intentions refers to the Three Sovereigns; cultivating words refers to the Five Emperors; cultivating appearances refers to the Three Kings; and cultivating numerical principles refers to the Five Hegemons.

Cultivating benevolence refers to Youyu (Shun); cultivating ritual propriety to Xia Yu; cultivating righteousness to Tang of Shang; and cultivating wisdom to Zhou Fa (King Wu of Zhou).

The model for cultivating moral nature is King Wen of Zhou; the model for cultivating emotion is King Wu of Zhou; the model for cultivating bearing and demeanor is the Duke of Zhou; and the model for cultivating an overall presence is the Duke of Shao.

The model for cultivating sagehood is Duke Mu of Qin; the model for cultivating virtue and worthiness is Duke Wen of Jin; the model for putting one’s abilities to work is Duke Huan of Qi; and the model for applying strategy and political craft is King Zhuang of Chu.

“Emperor, sovereign, king, and hegemon”—political leaders of different ranks in antiquity—form the substance of the Book of Changes (Yijing). The dynasties of Yu, Xia, Shang, and Zhou form the substance of the Book of Documents (Shujing). King Wen, King Wu, the Duke of Zhou, and the Duke of Shao form the substance of the Book of Songs (Shijing). The states of Qin, Jin, Qi, and Chu form the substance of the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu).

Thought, words, images, and numbers form the function of the Book of Changes; benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and wisdom form the function of the Book of Documents; nature, emotion, form, and substance form the function of the Book of Songs; and sagehood, worthiness, talent, and political craft form the function of the Spring and Autumn Annals.

“Function” refers to inner intention; “substance” refers to outward deeds. When one can judge the moment and weigh circumstances flexibly in relating intention to deeds, this is what the sages do.

The Three Sovereigns (legendary sage rulers of high antiquity) agreed in their views, yet used different ways to educate the people. The Five Emperors shared the same views, yet employed different teachings. The Three Kings, the rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou, followed the same principles, yet each used a different way to guide the people. The Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period followed the same standards, yet governed in different ways.

When views are shared but ways of educating differ, what matters is that each follows the Dao (the Way). If people are taught through the Dao, they too will follow it and return to their ruler; this is why naturalness is held in esteem. Here, “naturalness” means Wuwei (non-action) and non-possession. Wuwei does not mean doing nothing at all; it means not being bound to any particular course of action, and so being expansive. Non-possession does not mean having nothing at all; it means not clinging to ownership, and so being great. To be both expansive and great, to have everything while clinging neither to action nor to ownership—perhaps only the Three Sovereigns could achieve this.

Thus, those who understand how to govern the world through the Dao will be followed by the people, who return to them through the Dao. A sage said, “When I do not act recklessly, the people transform themselves naturally. When I do not meddle, the people become prosperous naturally. When I cherish stillness, the people become orderly naturally. When I have few desires, the people become simple and genuine naturally.” Is this not the very principle being described?

The Three Sovereigns, the legendary rulers of high antiquity, all had compassionate hearts, yet they taught and transformed the people in different ways. The Five Emperors all valued ritual, yet used different methods of instruction. The Three Kings all upheld righteousness, yet persuaded the people by different means. The Five Hegemons, the lords who led the affairs of the feudal states during the Spring and Autumn period, all acted through wisdom, yet governed in different ways. When people value ritual but practice it differently, the key lies in teaching the people through De (Virtue/Power). Teach the people through De, and they will in turn rally to you through De; thus, deference is held in esteem. Deference means putting others before oneself.

To yield all under Heaven to another without feeling that anything has been lost is like never having possessed it in the first place. To receive all under Heaven from another without feeling that anything has been gained is like having possessed it all along. “Never having possessed” and “having possessed all along” mean not regarding all under Heaven as one’s own. If one claims it as one’s property, then even giving another a single hair would stir up greed and stinginess—how much more so with all under Heaven? Perhaps only the Five Emperors understood that all under Heaven belongs to everyone, and did not regard it as their own. Thus the sage teaches and transforms all under Heaven through De, and the people of all under Heaven rally to him through De. This is why the sage says, “With robes hanging loose and hands folded, all under Heaven is at peace”—a model taken from Heaven and Earth, the trigrams Qian and Kun in the Book of Changes. Surely this is what the saying means.

The Three Sovereigns shared the same nature but taught and transformed in different ways; the Five Emperors shared the same concerns but instructed by different methods; the Three Kings shared the same institutions but persuaded by different means; the Five Hegemons shared the same disposition but governed in different ways. Though the Three Kings acted differently, all persuaded the people through accomplishments. Persuade the people through accomplishments, and they will in turn rally to you through accomplishments; thus, good government is held in esteem. Government means setting things right: using what is right to correct what is wrong. Nothing is more right under Heaven than bringing benefit to the people, and nothing is more wrong than harming them. To benefit the people is the right way; one who does so may be called a king. To harm the people is wrong; one who does so is a thief. If bringing benefit to the people removes a calamity, how could it mean losing the Kingly Way? If the Kingly Way removes the harm caused by thieves, how could regicide occur? Thus, the Kingly Way is the right way. Those who correct what is wrong throughout the world through their accomplishments will, in turn, have the people rally to them through their accomplishments. This is why the sage says, “Heaven and Earth undergo transformation, and the four seasons take shape. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou overthrew the old dynasties and established new ones, in accord with Heaven’s will and responsive to the people’s hearts.” Surely this is what the saying means?

The Three Sovereigns, legendary rulers of high antiquity, were equally wise, yet they taught the world in different ways. The Five Emperors were equally virtuous, yet their teachings differed according to the regions where they ruled; in this way, the four seasons became distinct. When Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou brought about changes of dynasty, they followed Heaven’s will and accorded with the people’s wishes. Is this not what is meant here?

The Three Sovereigns were equally wise, yet adopted different methods of instruction. The Five Emperors were equally virtuous, yet carried out different teachings. The Three Kings—the founders of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties—were equally capable, yet guided the people in different ways. The Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period all understood the arts of power, yet each acted differently. Those who rely on the same kind of political arts but act in different ways must resort to force. When people are governed by force, they submit through force in turn, and society comes to prize contention.

Contention is a struggle for gain. When giving or taking gain does not accord with the Way, it is called contention. A small-scale contention is waged with words; a large-scale one with weapons. Those who contend seek a position of strength, yet cloak their aims in a pretext and claim that their dispute is about discerning right from wrong. “Names” are the designations by which things are named and the legitimacy of actions judged. “Gain” is what sustains the people and enables affairs to be accomplished. If a claim to legitimacy does not accord with benevolence, it cannot sustain an undertaking; if gain does not accord with the Way, one cannot rest secure in one’s achievements. When claims to legitimacy lack achievements to support them, and gain lacks undertakings to sustain it, society falls into disorder, and the people are bound to contend.

The Five Hegemons invoked hollow claims to legitimacy while pursuing real gain. Unable to attain the rule of emperors, they settled for the title of king; unable to achieve the Way of kingship, they settled for hegemony. Unable even to attain hegemony, they would have fallen among the Yi and Di, the peoples on the borders whom the central states called outsiders. From this perspective, the Five Hegemons were not entirely without merit toward the central states. But as for whether they truly practiced the Way of kingship, that is out of the question. To say they surpassed the Yi and Di would be even further from the truth.

After the Zhou moved east, the achievements and beneficence begun by King Wen and King Wu gradually faded away. The Zhou royal house nevertheless endured through twenty-four generations of rulers; the royal line did not break, but continued as if by a thread. The Yi and Di also refrained from launching major attacks on the central states. These were the effects of the Five Hegemons invoking the authority of the royal house.

Thus the sages of old said: “The eyes are nearly blind, yet can still see; the legs are lame, yet can still walk. Treading on a tiger’s tail brings a bite from the tiger—danger! A strong man seeks to become a great ruler.” Is this not what is meant here? The phrases “treading on a tiger’s tail” and the like come from the Treading hexagram of the Book of Changes and are used to describe a dangerous situation. “A martial man” means someone who relies on force and seeks to impose himself.

The mind’s intention lies in grasping the nature of things; speech lies in expressing their circumstances; images lie in presenting their forms; and numerical principles lie in revealing their fundamental structure. Benevolence embodies human sagacity, ritual embodies human virtue, righteousness embodies human ability, and wisdom embodies people’s ways of handling affairs.

Fully grasping the nature of things is called the Dao (the Way); fully understanding their circumstances is called De (Virtue); fully presenting their forms is called achievement; fully mastering their foundations is called power. Bringing people to sagacity is called transformation; teaching people to attain virtue is called instruction; urging people to exercise their abilities is called encouragement; guiding people in the use of methods is called leadership.

“Dao, De, achievement, and power” belong to the foundations of things and people—the substance. “Transformation, instruction, encouragement, and leadership” belong to practice and application—the function. To adapt between substance and function according to the time is the work of a sage. “Transformation” means that Heaven creates the myriad things; “responsive adjustment” means that a sage teaches and nurtures the people, enabling them to achieve their potential. If one cannot bring forth the myriad things or nurture the people, how can one speak of responsive adjustment? “Responsive adjustment” means adapting flexibly to circumstances.

The key to skillfully transforming the world lies in fully embodying the Dao. The key to skillfully instructing the world lies in fully embodying De. The key to skillfully encouraging the world lies in fully bringing achievement to fruition. The key to skillfully leading the world lies in fully exercising power.

One who uses Dao, De, achievement, and power to transform the people is called a “huang”; one who uses them to instruct the people is called a “di”; one who uses them to encourage the people is called a “king”; and one who uses them to lead the people is called a “hegemon.”

If transformation, instruction, encouragement, and leadership are used to explain the Dao, the result is the Yijing (Book of Changes); if they are used to explain De, the result is the Shujing (Book of Documents); if they are used to explain achievement, the result is the Shijing (Book of Odes); and if they are used to explain power, the result is the Chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals).

The beginnings of these four things began with the beginning of Heaven and Earth, and their endings will come with the end of Heaven and Earth. Their beginnings and endings are both determined by Heaven and Earth.

Compared with the present, antiquity was as brief between Heaven and Earth as morning is to evening. Looking at the present from within the present, we call it “now”; looking back on it from a later age, it too will become “the past.” Looking at antiquity from the present, we call it “the past”; people of antiquity, looking back from their own age, would likewise have called the age they lived in “now.” From this we can see that the past is not necessarily always the past, nor the present always the present: these names depend on the age from which one looks. Who can say that people a thousand years ago, or ten thousand years from now, would not view past and present from their own perspective?

If this is so, then “Emperor,” “Sovereign,” “King,” and “Hegemon” represent the forms of government through which sages responded to different ages, while the Changes, the Documents, the Odes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals are the classics the sages passed down to later generations. Ages rise and decline, and the institutions found in the classics may be inherited or transformed. The waxing and waning of an age can be summed up by the Changes’ terms “Obstruction” and “Peace”; the continuity and transformation of institutions can be summed up by “Decrease” and “Increase.” Once the principles behind the rise and fall of ages are made clear, substance and function can be distinguished. Once the principles behind institutional decrease and increase are made clear, inner intentions and outward conduct can be discerned. When substance and function, intentions and conduct, are all clearly distinguished, the sage’s work is complete.

Since ancient times, rulers who governed all under Heaven have received the Mandate of Heaven in four ways: first, “rightful succession”; second, “receiving the Mandate”; third, “changing the Mandate”; and fourth, “administering the Mandate.” “Rightful succession” means continuing to inherit the old institutions. “Receiving the Mandate” means inheriting the old institutions and then making changes. “Changing the Mandate” means changing the old institutions and then inheriting some of them. “Administering the Mandate” means changing the old institutions and continuing to make changes. Inheriting and then continuing to inherit symbolizes a state’s fortune growing and enduring. Inheriting and then making changes symbolizes its fortune turning from prosperity to decline. Making changes and then inheriting some of the old institutions symbolizes its fortune turning from decline to prosperity. Making changes and then continuing to make changes symbolizes its fortune declining without letup.

A political undertaking that changes institutions and then keeps changing them affects one generation; one that changes them and then inherits some of the old institutions affects ten generations; one that inherits them and then makes changes affects a hundred generations; and one that inherits them and continues to do so affects a thousand generations. If one can inherit when inheritance is called for and make changes when change is called for, the undertaking will affect ten thousand generations. Is the undertaking that affects one generation not the way of governing practiced by the Five Hegemons, the five great lords of the Spring and Autumn period? Is the undertaking that affects ten generations not the way of governing practiced by the Three Kings, the sage rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties? Is the undertaking that affects a hundred generations not the way of governing practiced by the Five Emperors? Is the undertaking that affects a thousand generations not the way of governing practiced by the Three Sovereigns? And is the undertaking that affects ten thousand generations not the way of governing practiced by Zhongni, that is, Confucius?

From this we can see that “Sovereign,” “Emperor,” “King,” and “Hegemon” are titles for those who responded to their times and received the Mandate of Heaven, while Zhongni transcends any single generation or age and is not confined by the limits of his time. Zhongni said: “The Yin dynasty inherited the ritual system of the Xia dynasty; what it added and removed can be seen. The Zhou dynasty inherited the ritual system of the Yin dynasty; what it added and removed can also be seen. For those who succeed the Zhou, even a hundred generations later, the changes in their ritual system will still be possible to know.” If so, what can be known is not limited to a hundred generations. Changes across millions and billions of generations can all be inferred from this.

Everyone knows that Zhongni (Confucius) was Zhongni, yet few know the fundamental reason he became who he was. If one does not wish to explore that reason, so be it. But if one insists on understanding it, where could one look except to Heaven and Earth?

Everyone knows that Heaven and Earth are Heaven and Earth, yet few know why they are as they are. If one insists on seeking the reason, where could one look except to the changes between movement and stillness?

The alternation of movement and stillness lets people recognize Heaven and Earth as Heaven and Earth, yet they may still not understand the root of their formation. To pursue that root, one must still seek it in the changes between movement and stillness.

The alternation of movement and stillness is perhaps the most subtle feature of Heaven and Earth; and the changes that unfold between movement and stillness may be the most subtle principle linking Heaven and Earth, humanity, and the myriad things. Confucius was able to understand the Way of the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—because he acted in accord with nature, leaving no trace of deliberate contrivance.

In his encomium to the Yijing, Confucius began with the ancients from Fuxi and Xuanyuan onward. In compiling the Shangshu, he began with the ancients from Yao and Shun onward. In revising the Shijing, he began with King Wen and King Wu of Zhou onward. In revising the Chunqiu, he began with the lords from Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin onward.

To begin with Fuxi and Xuanyuan was to honor the Three Sovereigns as ancestors; to begin with Yao and Shun was to honor the Five Emperors as patriarchs. To begin with Kings Wen and Wu was to regard the Three Kings as descendants; to begin with Dukes Huan and Wen was to regard the Five Hegemons as grandchildren. Honoring the Three Sovereigns as ancestors was to esteem the worthy; honoring the Five Emperors as patriarchs was also to esteem the worthy. The Three Sovereigns esteemed the worthy through the Dao, while the Five Emperors did so through De. Regarding the Three Kings as descendants was to value those close to oneself; regarding the Five Hegemons as grandchildren was also to value those close to oneself. The Three Kings drew worthy people close through their achievements, while the Five Hegemons did so through their strength.

Alas, the ages of the past stretch back billions upon billions of years, and the ages to come will continue for billions upon billions more. Why, then, are ancestors and patriarchs so few, while descendants are so many? This is precisely why Confucius praised Yao and Shun so especially. Of Yu, Confucius said, “As for Yu, I can find nothing to criticize.”

Confucius lived more than fifteen hundred years after Yu, and now more than fifteen hundred years have passed since Confucius. Though I dare not claim that my De is comparable to Confucius’s, can I not praise Yao, Shun, and Yu just as Mencius praised Confucius?

Some people say it is a pity that Confucius had no fief of his own. I do not see it that way. Ordinary people regard a hundred mu of farmland as their own domain; high officials, a fief of a hundred li; feudal lords, all the land within their borders; and the Son of Heaven, everything within the four seas. Confucius, however, regarded all ages to come as his domain. In this light, Mencius was not exaggerating when he said that, from the beginning of humanity, there had never been anyone like Confucius.

People cannot make themselves wealthy by their own efforts alone; they must receive wealth from Heaven in order to be wealthy. Nor can people make themselves noble by their own efforts alone; they must receive nobility from Heaven. Wealth and nobility, then, depend on Heaven, not on people. Some seek them and obtain them, while others seek them and do not; this depends on Heaven. Merit and virtue, however, depend on people, not on Heaven. They can be gained through self-cultivation; without it, they cannot be gained. This depends not on Heaven, but on people.

People obtain wealth and nobility by seeking what can, in fact, be obtained. If something cannot be obtained, no amount of seeking will secure it. The foolish do not understand this. When they seek and succeed, they say it is because of their own ability and boast of it; when they seek and fail, they say others have withheld it and grow resentful. If people understood why they themselves can obtain something, and why others can grant it, how could anyone in the world still fail to know their proper limits?

The greatest wealth under heaven is to possess all under heaven. The Son of Heaven is supremely honored, but can such a position really be gained through wild speculation and arbitrary striving? Still, the Mandate of Heaven has never come entirely without the accumulation of merit and the practice of good deeds. A wise and enlightened ruler endures hardship to establish his royal enterprise; a mediocre ruler ruins it through tyranny. Is this the will of Heaven, or the work of human beings? In the end, calamities are brought about by people, and their consequences are difficult to escape. If disasters are sent down by Heaven, what use is prayer in averting them? Accumulating merit and practicing good deeds are simply a gentleman’s duty; they are not done in order to gain something. To do good with an eye to profit is to value gain more highly than benevolence and righteousness. Why would a gentleman set his mind on such a thing? Yet it is only when someone is fortunate or unfortunate that one can speak of fate.

Yu of Xia gained all under heaven through his achievements, while Jie of Xia lost it through his cruelty. Tang of Yin gained it through his achievements, while Zhou of Yin lost it through his cruelty. King Wu of Zhou gained it through his achievements, while King You of Zhou lost it through his cruelty. Though the eras of the Three Dynasties differed, the pattern of success and failure was the same. After King Ping of Zhou moved the capital east, he had no achievements with which to restore the royal enterprise. King Nan of Zhou fled west, but did not lose the royal realm through tyranny. By then, the Son of Heaven’s authority could not even govern a small state; the royal house could only limp along by relying on the feudal lords and the Five Hegemons, the lords who successively dominated during the Spring and Autumn period. What more is there to say about such a state of affairs? It was simply that no true king appeared in that age. Though the Zhou royal house retained its name, how different was it from Qi and Song, the feudal states that preserved the descendants of Xia and Shang? In such an age, was it not only natural that the Spring and Autumn Annals, the chronicle of the history of Lu, should appear?

When Confucius was arranging the classics, King Ping was on the Zhou throne. The Book of Documents records events up to Marquis Wen of Jin; the Book of Odes places the airs of the states among the poems of the royal dynasty; the Spring and Autumn Annals begins with the first year of Duke Yin of Lu; and the Book of Changes ends with the Hexagram Before Completion. I do not know Confucius personally; I have only learned to do what he did.

The authority over ritual, music, and military campaigns originally belonged to the Son of Heaven, but later passed into the hands of the feudal lords, and the Son of Heaven consequently lost his exalted position. The Zhou dynasty’s achievements and virtuous rule began with King Wen and King Wu, but declined under Kings You and Li, shaking the foundations laid by Wen and Wu. This allowed the Quanrong to invade the Central Plain. Among the many lords of the Zhou, only Jin was able to repel the Rong and Di, escort the Son of Heaven eastward to the new capital at Luoyi, preserve the royal house, and lead the lords in honoring it. For this, Jin was granted black millet wine for sacrifice and a jade ladle for pouring it. How could it fail to bear the responsibility of honoring the king and protecting the state?

The Zuo Commentary records that Zigong wanted to abolish the sacrifice of a live sheep used each month on the first day to make offerings to the ancestors of Lu. Confucius said to him, “Si, you regret the loss of that sheep; I regret the loss of this rite.” From this we can see that a form whose substance has declined is still better than losing both form and substance. Though the rites had fallen into disuse, as long as the sacrificial sheep was still kept, later generations might know that the rite had once existed, and someone might restore it.

Duke Wen of Jin honored the Son of Heaven. Even if at times this preserved only the outward form, it still made the lords of the realm aware that the Zhou had a Son of Heaven, and kept them from daring to attack the royal house. Once Jin declined and fell, Qin dared to destroy the Zhou. Confucius’s words about cherishing ritual order were indeed well founded.

One day, Duke Jing of Qi asked Confucius about the way to govern a state. Confucius replied, “The ruler should act as a ruler, the minister fulfill a minister’s duties, the father meet a father’s responsibilities, and the son meet a son’s responsibilities.” Duke Jing said, “Well said! If the ruler does not act as a ruler, the minister as a minister, the father as a father, and the son as a son, then even if there is grain, how could I ever get to eat it?”

At the time, the regional lords usurped the authority of the Son of Heaven, while the retainers of high ministers controlled state power. Stipends flowed out of the Qi ruling house, and government orders came from the private residences of powerful ministers. Duke Jing himself could not honor the Zhou Son of Heaven, yet he wanted his ministers to honor him. Wasn’t that a difficult position to be in? In the end, the Tian clan took the throne of Qi. The Tian clan’s replacement of Qi’s ruling house was like the partition of Jin among the three families of Han, Zhao, and Wei; and that partition of Jin was like the decline of the Zhou Son of Heaven’s authority and the regional lords’ rise to supremacy.

The three families of Han, Zhao, and Wei first rendered meritorious service to Jin, then divided its territory; they first diminished the ruler’s standing, and ultimately seized the state. The Tian clan first obtained stipends from Qi, then took sole control of its government; later it killed the ruler and ultimately replaced Qi’s ruling house. Could the changes in the affairs of the world really have unfolded without gradual development? When we encounter the warning, “Treading on frost, one knows that hard ice is coming,” should we not be on our guard?

The Commentary says that “king” has the meaning of “to come”: only one who can draw the world to come and follow him may be called a king. After the Zhou dynasty declined, the regional lords had not paid court to the Son of Heaven for a long time. Later, when the state of Chu joined an alliance of the central states, Confucius raised the title of the ruler of Chu to “Viscount.” But in response to Chu’s usurpation in calling itself a kingdom, he raised its title only to “Viscount.” Was this not an improper way to handle the matter?

Those who defeat others by force will in turn be defeated by force. Wu once defeated Yue and grew contemptuous of Chu. After defeating Chu, it sought to lord it over Qi. Greedy for plunder and indifferent to justice, it harassed Qi and Jin, acting with sheer arrogance and violence. In the end, Yue destroyed it. Yue failed to learn from Wu’s fate and was later destroyed by Chu; Chu failed to learn and was later destroyed by Qin; Qin, too, failed to learn and was later brought to heel by the Han dynasty. What difference is there between using strength to bully the weak and acting like a jackal or wolf? Such conduct is no way for an army of the Central States that claims to uphold justice.

Song was a feudal state of high rank but limited strength. When forming alliances, it did not weigh its own virtue; at interstate meetings, it did not assess its own power. Yet it still sought to compete with the other feudal lords for supremacy in the Central States, regarding it as shameful to fall behind. How could it be easy for such a state to become hegemon?

Among the Zhou dynasty’s feudal lords who shared its surname, only Yan endured for generations. Yan lay in the remote north, far from the Central States. If it had refrained from competing with Han, Zhao, Wei, Qi, and Chu for profit and empty prestige, it could have cultivated its virtue, waited for the right moment, and watched how affairs among the feudal lords unfolded. Though Qin was fierce as a tiger or wolf, it would not have been easy for it to harm Yan at once. Had Yan endured in this way for fifteen or sixteen years, it would have been difficult to predict how the situation in the realm might develop.

The Central Plains once extended nine thousand li, and they still extend nine thousand li today; their size has neither increased nor diminished. Yet dynasties have enjoyed longer or shorter periods of rule, and their territories have been larger or smaller, because their methods of conquest and defense differed. After the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, the Han and Tang were the most prosperous. The Qin came between the Zhou and Han. Qin began to prosper under Duke Mu, grew powerful under Duke Xiao, and reached its peak under the First Emperor. It first lay in the west, then moved to Mount Qi, and later to Xianyang. Qin armies campaigned in every direction, bringing war across the land and bloodshed everywhere. In the end, they annexed the various states and unified the realm, transforming the order of the world from ancient times to the present. Qin could not be compared with the Three Dynasties, but neither was it a dynasty like Jin or Sui, with which it could be lumped together. Was Qin’s brief reign not due to its excessively harsh laws and the many people it killed? When Confucius arranged the Book of Documents (Shangshu), he placed the “Oath of Qin” at its end. Was his intention not profound?

Those who delight in helping all things grow belong to the class of life; those who take pleasure in killing belong to the class of death. The Zhou cherished life out of a sense of what was right; the Han, too, cherished life out of a sense of what was right. Qin indulged in killing for the sake of profit; Chu, too, was greedy for profit and fond of killing. The Zhou cherished life through a sense of what was right, while the Han fell short of the Zhou. Qin killed for profit, while Chu went even further than Qin. What partiality did the Way of Heaven and human nature show toward Zhou, Qin, Han, or Chu? They regarded only good and evil. From this we can see that good conduct has no true opponent in the world: everyone will approve of it. Nor does evil conduct have a true opponent: everyone will loathe it. The Way of Heaven and human nature showed no favoritism toward Zhou, Qin, Han, or Chu; they judged only good and evil.

In the past, when Confucius spoke of Yao and Shun, he said that they “ruled the world with their robes hanging down.” He meant that they governed the world through virtue, without needing to do much, and the world was at peace. When he turned to Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou, the words quoted in the original text are incomplete here.

Confucius once spoke of Yao and Shun, saying that they “ruled the world with their robes hanging loosely.” He meant that through virtue and moral instruction, they could govern the world without excessive intervention. Speaking of King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou, he said that they “followed Heaven and responded to the people,” meaning that they followed Heaven’s will and answered the people’s wishes. These sayings sum up the principles by which emperors throughout history received the Mandate of Heaven. Through his virtue, Yao abdicated the throne in favor of Shun; through achievements such as controlling the floods, Shun abdicated in favor of Yu. Virtue could make someone an emperor, and so could achievement. But when virtue fell short, rule came to depend on achievement. King Tang attacked and exiled Jie of Xia; King Wu attacked and killed Zhou of Shang. Tang became king by exiling Jie, and Wu became king by killing Zhou. But when exile proved insufficient, the path led to execution. This shows that eras change from flourishing to decline, and that events involve both continuity and transformation. The paths taken by sages of earlier and later generations were not always the same.

Heaven and humanity correspond with one another. Heaven has Yin and Yang; people have right and wrong. Whether people turn toward what is right or wrong depends in part on the preferences of those above them: when rulers prize virtue, the people tend toward the right path; when rulers favor flattery, the people are more likely to turn toward the wrong. This tendency toward right or wrong has a long history. Even when a sage ruler is in power, there can never be no petty people; they are simply unable to make their influence felt. And even when a mediocre ruler is in power, there can never be no worthy people; they are simply unable to accomplish anything.

No age of good government under an ancient sage ruler surpassed the age of Tang Yao. Why were there so many worthy people then? It was not because there were no petty people, but because they could not make their influence felt, so the worthy seemed numerous. Even the “Four Fiends”—the legendary villains of Yao and Shun’s time—could not be allowed to do as they pleased. No age of poor government under an ancient mediocre ruler surpassed the age of King Zhou of Shang. Why were there so many petty people then? It was not because there were no worthy people, but because the worthy could not make their influence felt, so the petty seemed numerous. Even the “Three Benevolent Ones”—the three virtuous ministers who upheld benevolence at the end of the Shang dynasty—could not put their good intentions into practice. From this we can see that a ruler’s choice of ministers, and a minister’s choice of ruler, depend on human conduct. But whether a ruler finds worthy ministers, or worthy ministers encounter an enlightened ruler, is not wholly up to human beings; it is also shaped by the Mandate of Heaven.

Wisdom and foolishness are differences in people’s nature; pursuing gain and avoiding harm are common patterns among the people. Shun once fired pottery beside the Yellow River, and Fu Yue built walls beneath the rocks. Everyone in the realm knew they were wise and capable, yet the ministers in charge of government did not recommend them. This was because thoughts of gain and loss constrained people’s minds.

Alas, when the mind calculates gain and loss, and defenses crowd the field of vision like spears and halberds, how can anyone see Shun’s sagacity or Fu Yue’s worth? The banks of the Yellow River were no place for abdication—the ruler’s yielding his position to a worthy person—and beneath the rocks was no path to seeking a prime minister. In the past, both men stood below millions upon millions; now they had been raised above them all. How vast the distance between those two positions! The reason this is said is that people prize reputation.

The Book of Changes says: “In the Kan hexagram, sincerity within brings success; setting out brings esteem.” This means that even amid danger and hardship, one can keep to what is right and act accordingly; setting out to do something may then lead to success. Though danger is present, there is no fault, because one can be confident in one’s own heart. Yi Yin acted on precisely this principle. From this we can see that people in antiquity, too, worried that reputation might exceed actual ability. Circumstances sometimes bring good fortune and sometimes misfortune; even sages have limits to what they can accomplish.

Yi Yin served as chief minister, a position that required him to take responsibility and bring matters to completion. If, in order to avoid the reputation of having “banished the ruler,” he had taken no action, could he still be called loyal? The great affairs of the realm would then have come to nothing. How could he have set the successor on the right course and fulfilled a loyalty steadfast from beginning to end? Alas, if the affairs of state had been entrusted to someone unreliable, what would have become of the successor during those three years? The great affairs of the realm would have been ruined all the same. In that case, where would Yi Yin have been? “In the Kan hexagram, sincerity within brings success”—does this not describe precisely such a situation?

The Yijing says, “Act in accordance with a favorable situation, and you will achieve great success. Have no doubts: friends will gather around you.” Firm, vigorous action is the guiding force that brings favorable circumstances to fruition. When action also meets with a response, people’s doubts will fade, because one is able to strengthen oneself. This is exactly what the Duke of Zhou did.

From this we can see that a sage cannot prevent others from slandering him, but can respond to slander wisely. The Duke of Zhou held the position of overseeing the government and bore a weighty responsibility. If, to avoid being known for “destroying a relative,” he had stepped aside, could that have been called filial? The affairs of the realm would then have slipped from control. How could he have protected the ruler who was to succeed him and fulfilled filial duty from beginning to end? Alas, if such a great responsibility had been entrusted to someone unreliable, what would have become of the succeeding ruler during those seven years? The affairs of the realm would have fallen into disorder, and where would that have left the Duke of Zhou? “Act in accordance with a favorable situation, and you will achieve great success. Have no doubts: friends will gather around you”—does this not describe precisely such a situation?

When the world is about to be at peace, people will surely prize practical action; when the world is about to fall into chaos, they will surely prize empty talk. When action is prized, a spirit of sincerity and integrity will arise; when words are prized, a spirit of deceit and changeability will arise. When the world is about to be at peace, people will surely prize what is right; when it is about to fall into chaos, they will surely prize gain. When what is right is prized, a spirit of humility and courtesy will arise; when gain is prized, a spirit of competition and plunder will arise.

The Three Kings—the sage rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou—prized action, while the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period prized words. Those who prize action will ultimately turn toward what is right; those who prize words will ultimately turn toward gain. Why is the distance between what is right and what is profitable so vast? From this we can see that putting things into practice is better than merely speaking of them, and truly carrying their principles into one’s heart is better still.

Words spoken aloud can be heard by others; actions can be seen by others; whether one has truly put something into practice in one’s heart is known even to the spirits. If even people’s eyes and ears perceive clearly and cannot be deceived, how much greater is the insight of the spirits? So being beyond reproach in one’s words is not as good as being beyond reproach in one’s conduct; and being beyond reproach in one’s conduct is not as good as having a clear conscience. It is easy to avoid faults in speech, harder to avoid faults in conduct; easy to avoid faults in conduct, harder still to avoid faults in the heart.

If the heart, too, is free of fault, what could be difficult? Alas, where can one find someone whose heart is entirely without fault, with whom to discuss the Way of the heart? From this we can see that the sages are able to remain free of fault because they are skilled at cultivating their hearts.

Confucius said, “The Shao music reached the utmost in beauty and the utmost in goodness. The Wu music was equally beautiful, but its goodness was not yet complete.” Confucius also said, “Guan Zhong assisted Duke Huan of Qi, enabling Qi to dominate the other states and bring order to the world. To this day, the people still benefit from what he did. Without Guan Zhong, we might long ago have let our hair hang loose and worn our robes fastened on the left, becoming people of the Yi and Di.”

From this we can see that although King Wu of Zhou did not attain the same complete perfection as Shun, he rescued the people of the world from peril, so he was only slightly below Shun. Duke Huan of Qi was not like King Wu in following Heaven’s will and the people’s wishes, but he brought the other states into submission and restored order to the world, making him far superior to the Yi and Di. Compared with Shun, King Wu cannot be said to have had no shortcomings; compared with Duke Huan, he cannot be said to have achieved no merit. Compared with the Yi and Di, Duke Huan had merit; compared with King Wu, he also fell short. The Han dynasty should probably be placed between King Wu and Duke Huan.

At the time, if the people of the world had not already detested Qin’s tyranny so deeply, even ten Liu Ji’s or a hundred Zhang Liang’s would have struggled to change their minds. Although the ages of antiquity and the present differ, people’s desire to live and aversion to death have not changed. Since ancient times, no one has killed on a scale greater than the Qin dynasty. How could the people of the world not have hated it? Killing many people does not necessarily require a blade. If everyone in the world is left with no way to survive, that too is to harm them—how much more so when many are also killed by the blade?

As the ruler of a state commanding ten thousand chariots, Qin Ershi could not even become an ordinary commoner, though he wished to. Liu Ji, the Han Emperor Gaozu, began as a commoner but in the end had no choice but to become the leader of the world. The standing of ruler and commoner is vastly different, yet at times a commoner replaces a ruler. This is because the fate of the world depends on it. The Way of Heaven does not bring calamity specifically upon rulers and blessings specifically upon commoners; it brings calamity upon those without the Way and blessings upon those who follow it. Nor do people by nature reject rulers and favor commoners; they turn away from those without the Way and follow those who have it. Though rulers and commoners stand far apart, they are sometimes replaced by one another precisely because the fortunes and misfortunes of the world are determined by this.

The sun has already set, and the moon has reached the full moon, around the fifteenth day of the lunar month, when it is roundest. The stars naturally seem sparse. It is not that there are truly fewer stars, but that the moonlight is so bright that their light is hard to see. Do the stars that can shine on their own not therefore seem scarce?

After the Han and Tang dynasties were founded, Empress Lü and Empress Wu Zetian also came to hold power, and ministers naturally found it difficult to remain loyal. It is not that there were truly few loyal ministers; rather, in circumstances like these, loyalty was hard to uphold. Do those able to remain steadfast in their loyalty not therefore seem rare?

From this we can see that it is easy to go along with the prevailing course of the world, but hard to die for its great causes; easy to die for those causes, but hard to bring them to fruition. If one can accomplish the task, why concern oneself with life and death? If it cannot succeed in the end, what good is there in dying for it? What is more, one must distinguish whether the cause one upholds is right or wrong. How can dying for what is unjust compare with living by what is right? And how can living for what is unjust compare with dying for the right way? It comes down to choosing between loyalty and wisdom.

Death is surely regrettable, but what matters more is bringing great causes to fruition. If instead one ruins them, how can dying make amends for one’s responsibility? Life is surely precious, but here too what matters more is bringing great causes to fruition. If one ruins them, how can remaining alive count as achieving merit?

Alas, who besides Zhang Liang, the Marquis of Liu in the Han dynasty, and Di Renjie, Duke of Liang in the Tang dynasty, could both accomplish great causes and preserve their lives without abandoning what was right? Without these two men, the fortunes of the Han and Tang dynasties might almost have passed into other hands. Those who live in vain and die in vain are as insignificant as mugwort and wormwood; loyal ministers and wise people do not belong among them.

Confucius said, “If a person of virtue governs a state for a hundred years, they can do away with cruelty and put an end to killing.” This is indeed true. The passage from extreme disorder to lasting peace must involve three transformations. The Three Sovereigns, the enlightened rulers of ancient legend, governed without making killing a tool of rule; the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period governed in ways that made life hard to sustain. The age of the hegemons underwent one transformation before reaching the age of kings; the age of kings underwent another before reaching the age of emperors; and the age of emperors underwent another before reaching the age of the Three Sovereigns. How could the people truly settle down and thrive without a hundred years and three transformations?

The age of the Three Sovereigns was like spring, the age of the Five Emperors like summer, the age of the Three Kings like autumn, and the age of the Five Hegemons like winter. Spring is mild, summer hot, autumn cool, and winter bitterly cold. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter are the sequence of seasons set in motion by Heaven; the Book of Changes, the Book of Documents, the Book of Odes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals are the classics handed down by the sages. When Heaven’s seasons run their course without error, the year’s farming can be completed; when the sages’ classics contain no deviation, a ruler’s virtue can be fulfilled. Heaven has its constant seasons, and the sages have their constant classics. Acting in accord with the right way brings right results; acting in accord with a crooked way brings crooked results. There is a principle at work between right and crooked. Acting in accord with the right way is called the right way; acting in accord with a crooked way is called a crooked way. So, in the end, are crookedness and rightness determined by people, or by Heaven?

Heaven is born from the Dao, Earth takes shape through the Dao, and the Dao gives all things their visible forms. Human beings act through the Dao. Heaven and Earth, people, and all things are different from one another, but they share this: all come from the Dao. The Dao is the path that all things follow. It has no shape of its own. People can see how it manifests only when it is put into practice and takes effect in particular matters. It is like a broad, level road that countless people can travel. After people have walked it for thousands of years, they can also know where it leads.

Someone asked, “When the way of the noble person flourishes, the way of the petty person declines; when the noble person’s way declines, the petty person’s way flourishes. Is the flourishing side the right way, and the declining side the wrong way? How, then, should we distinguish the right way from the wrong one?” The author exclaims that this way of speaking is truly misleading. A ruler should do what a ruler must do, and a minister what a minister must do; fathers, sons, husbands, and wives should each fulfill their responsibilities. Noble persons and petty persons, the Chinese realm and the Yi and Di peoples—ancient terms for peoples beyond the Chinese realm—should each keep to their proper place. This is the right way. If rulers and ministers, fathers and sons, or husbands and wives reverse their duties; if noble persons act like petty persons, or petty persons like noble persons; or if the Chinese realm and the Yi and Di peoples each fall into disorder in their proper roles, this is the wrong way. (The original passage repeats itself and contains textual corruption here; the interpretation that follows is based on its apparent meaning.)

When political order prevailed during the Three Dynasties—the ancient Xia, Shang, and Zhou periods—each relied on putting human relationships in proper order as the basis of governance. When those dynasties fell into disorder, in every case the order of human relationships had been damaged. Later generations who longed for the well-ordered ages of the Three Dynasties would set human relationships right; those who longed for their times of turmoil would throw those relationships into confusion. After the Three Dynasties, the Han and Tang were comparatively prosperous dynasties. Each rose through sound governance and fell through political decay. Their prosperity depended on the flourishing of the ruler’s way, the father’s way, the husband’s way, the noble person’s way, and the way of the Chinese realm. Their decline, in turn, accompanied the flourishing of the minister’s way, the son’s way, the wife’s way, the petty person’s way, and the way of the Yi and Di peoples.

Alas, when the two ways, right and wrong, proceed side by side, why are peaceful ages few and times of turmoil many? Why are noble persons few and petty persons many? The author replies: “Do you not know that there is one share of Yang and two shares of Yin? Even Heaven and Earth arise by following this Dao. How much more so must this be true of human beings and all things? Human beings are the most perceptive of all things. Other things are less perceptive than humans, yet they too are born from the Dao. How much more so, then, are humans, whose perceptiveness surpasses that of all things? From this we can see that humans are also one kind of thing among all things. It is only because they are the most perceptive that they are specially called ‘human beings.’”

The sun’s course through the heavens is the most wondrous. Among all things, those with greater spiritual awareness still cannot compare with human beings. Since all things arise by following the same Great Dao, how much more so must this be true of people, whose spiritual awareness surpasses that of all other things? From this we can see that human beings are also one kind of thing among the myriad things. They are called “human beings” in particular because their spiritual awareness is the most outstanding.

The sun’s course through the heavens represents a “yuan”; the moon’s course represents a “hui”; the stars’ course represents a “yun”; and the course of the seasons represents a “shi.” The terms “yuan, hui, yun, and shi” describe levels in the cycles of heavenly time, corresponding to one another from largest to smallest.

By using the sun’s course to calculate the cycles of the sun, moon, stars, and seasons, one can determine, respectively, “yuan within yuan,” “hui within yuan,” “yun within yuan,” and “shi within yuan.” In the same way, using the moon’s course to calculate these four kinds of cycles gives “yuan within hui,” “hui within hui,” “yun within hui,” and “shi within hui.” Using the stars’ course gives “yuan within yun,” “hui within yun,” “yun within yun,” and “shi within yun”; and using the seasons’ course gives “yuan within shi,” “hui within shi,” “yun within shi,” and “shi within shi.”

The corresponding numbers at each level are as follows: yuan within yuan is one; hui within yuan is twelve; yun within yuan is three hundred and sixty; and shi within yuan is four thousand three hundred and twenty.

Yuan within hui is twelve; hui within hui is one hundred and forty-four; yun within hui is four thousand three hundred and twenty; and shi within hui is fifty-one thousand eight hundred and forty.

Yuan within yun is three hundred and sixty; hui within yun is four thousand three hundred and twenty; yun within yun is one hundred and twenty-nine thousand six hundred; and shi within yun is one million five hundred and fifty-five thousand two hundred.

One “Yuan” contains 4,320 “Shi”; one “Hui” contains 51,840 “Shi”; one “Yun” contains 1,555,200 “Shi”; and one “Shi” contains 18,662,400 years.

“Yuan within Yuan” means the seasonal influence of spring operating during spring. “Yuan within Hui” means the seasonal influence of spring operating during summer. “Yuan within Yun” means the seasonal influence of spring operating during autumn. “Yuan within Shi” means the seasonal influence of spring operating during winter.

“Hui within Yuan” means the seasonal influence of summer operating during spring. “Hui within Hui” means the seasonal influence of summer operating during summer. “Hui within Yun” means the seasonal influence of summer operating during autumn. “Hui within Shi” means the seasonal influence of summer operating during winter.

“Yun within Yuan” means the seasonal influence of autumn operating during spring. “Yun within Hui” means the seasonal influence of autumn operating during summer. “Yun within Yun” means the seasonal influence of autumn operating during autumn. “Yun within Shi” means the seasonal influence of autumn operating during winter.

“Shi within Yuan” means the seasonal influence of winter operating during spring. “Shi within Hui” means the seasonal influence of winter operating during summer. “Shi within Yun” means the seasonal influence of winter operating during autumn. “Shi within Shi” means the seasonal influence of winter operating during winter.

“Emperor within Emperor” means acting according to the Dao. “Emperor within Sovereign” means practicing De according to the Dao. “Emperor within King” means establishing achievements according to the Dao. “Emperor within Hegemon” means wielding power according to the Dao.

“Sovereign within Emperor” means acting according to De. “Sovereign within Sovereign” means practicing De according to De. “Sovereign within King” means establishing achievements according to De. “Sovereign within Hegemon” means wielding power according to De.

“King within Emperor” means following the Dao through achievement. “King within Sovereign” means practicing De through achievement. “King within King” means establishing achievements through achievement. “King within Hegemon” means wielding power through achievement.

The levels of rulership represented by the Five Lords differed. In the age of the August Sovereigns, rulers used force to advance the Dao; in the age of the Emperors, they used force to advance De; in the age of the Kings, they used force to establish great achievements; and in the age of the Hegemons, they used force to prevail over rivals. Ages rise and decline, and the affairs of the world change through succession and transformation. Only a sage can fully grasp the principles at work. Thus Confucius said, “Those who can learn together cannot necessarily follow the Dao together; those who can follow the Dao together cannot necessarily achieve things together; and those who can achieve things together cannot necessarily respond to change and weigh how to act.”

We can see from this that each age has its own circumstances and guiding principles. We cannot set down a fixed standard and use it to judge the rise and fall of successive dynasties carelessly. The age of the Three Sovereigns was like spring, the age of the Five Emperors like summer, the age of the Three Kings like autumn, and the age of the Five Hegemons like winter. The Seven Warring States were the lingering cold at winter’s end. Though the Han dynasty was called a kingdom, its momentum was somewhat lacking; though the Jin dynasty established itself through hegemony, it still had strength to spare. The Three Kingdoms period was an age of hegemons rising on every side; the Sixteen Kingdoms period was an age in which numerous hegemons carved out territories of their own. The Five Dynasties in the south were like a borrowed carriage, while the Five Dynasties in the north were like travelers lodging temporarily at an inn.

The Sui dynasty was likened to a descendant of the Jin, and the Tang dynasty to a brother of the Han. The regional powers that divided the commanderies at the end of the Sui were a continuation like the afterflow of the Han and Yangtze rivers; the separatist power of the regional military governors at the end of the Tang was a remnant like the fading light of the sun and moon. The hegemons of the Later Five Dynasties were like stars in the sky before sunrise.

More than three thousand years have passed from the time of Yao and Shun to the present, spanning over a hundred successive eras. According to the historical records, among the Four Seas and the Nine Provinces, political rule has at times been unified and at times divided; conditions have sometimes been stable and sometimes deteriorated; the strength of the state has waxed and waned. Some established new orders, while others followed in their wake. Yet no era has ever succeeded in bringing all under Heaven under one rule and making the customs of every region entirely uniform.

Alas, when the ancients said that thirty years make a generation, was this merely an arbitrary figure? Only when education has gradually spread and taken deep root can people’s customs begin to change. If someone capable of shouldering the responsibilities of the age rises after the previous generation, then even if the people remain uncultivated, like the Yi and Di peoples—ancient names for groups beyond the Central Plains—three rounds of change may suffice to put the way of the sovereign into practice. Sadly, no era has lasted a hundred years, and no one in the world has lived to a hundred. At each change of dynasty, were the worthy and the unworthy ever divided exactly in half? Is this not what makes the age so difficult? Is this not what makes human affairs so difficult?

The fundamental number of Great Yang is ten; that of Great Yin is twelve; that of Lesser Yang is ten; and that of Lesser Yin is twelve. The fundamental number of Lesser Hardness is ten, and that of Lesser Softness is twelve; the fundamental number of Great Hardness is ten, and that of Great Softness is twelve. “Fundamental number” refers to the basic number associated with each category of Yin-Yang and hardness-softness.

When the fundamental numbers of Great Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Hardness, and Lesser Hardness are increased, while those of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Softness, and Lesser Softness are decreased, the resulting numbers are called the “operative numbers” of Great Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Hardness, and Lesser Hardness. Conversely, when the fundamental numbers of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Softness, and Lesser Softness are increased, while those of Great Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Hardness, and Lesser Hardness are decreased, the resulting numbers are called the “operative numbers” of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Softness, and Lesser Softness. “Operative number” refers to the number these categories assume as they function through change.

The fundamental numbers of Great Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Hardness, and Lesser Hardness total 160; those of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Softness, and Lesser Softness total 192. The operative numbers of Great Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Hardness, and Lesser Hardness total 112; those of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Softness, and Lesser Softness total 152.

The body numbers (numbers that embody the essential nature of things) of the categories Greater Yang, Lesser Yin, Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Flexibility, and Lesser Flexibility add up to 192. The function numbers (numbers that embody the activity of things) of the categories Greater Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Firmness, and Lesser Firmness add up to 112. The function numbers of the categories Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Flexibility, and Lesser Flexibility add up to 152.

When the function numbers of Greater Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Firmness, and Lesser Firmness are combined with those of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Flexibility, and Lesser Flexibility to derive a number, it is called the “number of the transformations of the sun, moon, stars, and constellations.” Reversing the order—combining the function numbers of Great Yin, Lesser Yin, Great Flexibility, and Lesser Flexibility with those of Greater Yang, Lesser Yang, Great Firmness, and Lesser Firmness—yields the “number of the transformations of water, fire, earth, and stone.” The number of the transformations of the sun, moon, stars, and constellations is 17,024, called the “moving number.” The number of the generation and transformation of water, fire, earth, and stone is also 17,024, called the “growing number.” When the numbers of the transformations of the sun, moon, stars, and constellations and of water, fire, earth, and stone are then combined, their total is 289,816,576. This is called the “combined number of moving and growing things,” the total number shared by moving and plant-like things.

The sun, moon, and stars bring changes in heat and cold, and in day and night. Water, fire, earth, and stone give rise to wind, rain, dew, and thunder. Changes in heat and cold, and in day and night, alter the nature and form of all things; wind, rain, dew, and thunder give rise to animals, grasses, and trees.

Heat changes the nature of animals and plants; cold changes their emotions; day changes their shapes; and night changes their bodies. Rain transforms the nature and form of all things into walking beasts; wind transforms them into birds; dew transforms them into grasses; and thunder transforms them into trees. Here, “nature, emotions, and form” refers to things’ inherent qualities, states, and outward shapes; “walking, flying, grasses, and trees” refers to animals and plants.

Nature, emotions, and form originate in Heaven; animals, grasses, and trees originate in Earth. To say that they originate in Heaven means that all things belong to Yin or Yang; to say that they originate in Earth means that all things belong to the firm or the yielding. The distinctions between Yin and Yang, and between the firm and the yielding, make up the myriad things between Heaven and Earth. Human beings are able to encompass all things of Heaven and Earth.

Some things belong to the category “sun–sun,” while others belong to “sun–moon,” “sun–star,” or “sun–celestial body.” By extension, there are also the combinations “moon–sun,” “moon–moon,” “moon–star,” and “moon–celestial body”; “star–sun,” “star–moon,” “star–star,” and “star–celestial body”; and “celestial body–sun,” “celestial body–moon,” “celestial body–star,” and “celestial body–celestial body.” Here, “sun,” “moon,” “star,” and “celestial body” are names used to distinguish categories of things.

The original text then says: “Things in the sun–sun category fly.” It goes on to list categories such as “star–star” and “star–celestial body,” and again enumerates combinations such as “celestial body–sun,” “celestial body–moon,” “celestial body–star,” and “celestial body–celestial body.”

Daily things correspond to birds. Things associated with the sun and moon correspond to birds and beasts; those associated with the sun, moon, and stars correspond to birds and trees; and those associated with the sun, moon, stars, and hours correspond to birds and plants.

The moon corresponds to beasts. Things associated with the sun and moon correspond to beasts and birds; those associated with the moon and moon correspond to beasts and beasts; those associated with the moon and stars correspond to beasts and trees; and those associated with the moon and hours correspond to beasts and plants.

The stars correspond to trees. Things associated with the stars and sun correspond to trees and birds; those associated with the stars and moon correspond to trees and beasts; those associated with the stars and stars correspond to trees and trees; and those associated with the stars and hours correspond to trees and plants.

The hours correspond to plants. Things associated with the hours and sun correspond to plants and birds; those associated with the hours and moon correspond to plants and beasts; those associated with the hours and stars correspond to plants and trees; and those associated with the hours and hours correspond to plants and plants.

The people can also be divided into types such as huang-huang, huang-di, huang-wang, and huang-bo, as well as di-huang, di-di, di-wang, and di-bo. There are also wang-huang, wang-di, wang-wang, and wang-bo, along with bo-huang, bo-di, bo-wang, and bo-bo.

These names each consist of two characters and can be matched with the four social occupations of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants: huang-huang people correspond to scholar-scholars, huang-di people to scholar-farmers, huang-wang people to scholar-artisans, and huang-bo people to scholar-merchants; di-huang people correspond to farmer-scholars, di-di people to farmer-farmers, di-wang people to farmer-artisans, and di-bo people to farmer-merchants; wang-huang people correspond to artisan-scholars, wang-di people to artisan-farmers, wang-wang people to artisan-artisans, and wang-bo people to artisan-merchants; bo-huang people correspond to merchant-scholars, bo-di people to merchant-farmers, bo-wang people to merchant-artisans, and bo-bo people to merchant-merchants.

Here, “huang,” “di,” “wang,” and “bo” are combined with “sun,” “moon,” “stars,” and “hours,” as well as “birds,” “beasts,” “trees,” and “plants,” to present a way of classifying different things or groups of people. “Scholars,” “farmers,” “artisans,” and “merchants” refer respectively to people who study, cultivate the land, practice a craft, and trade.

The “Treatise on Observing Things” divides beings into four categories: “flying, walking, trees, and grasses.” “Flying” refers to things that fly, “walking” to things that walk, “trees” to trees, and “grasses” to grasses. Each category can in turn be observed through four aspects: nature, feeling, form, and substance. Flying corresponds to nature, walking to feeling, trees to form, and grasses to substance. When two categories are paired, the first indicates the primary aspect and the second its corresponding quality. For example, “flying and walking beings are nature and feeling” means that flying and walking beings can be understood through the relationship between nature and feeling.

The scripture also divides people by occupation into “scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants,” and uses “benevolence, ritual propriety, righteousness, and wisdom” to describe the virtues associated with each occupational pairing: scholars correspond to benevolence, farmers to ritual propriety, artisans to righteousness, and merchants to wisdom. For example, “scholars and farmers among the people are benevolence and ritual propriety” means that scholars and farmers, taken together, can be explained through benevolence and ritual propriety. In each group, the first category is paired in turn with the second, and the corresponding virtues are listed.

The final passage uses numbers to express the proportions between different categories: flying paired with flying is one to one; flying with walking, one to ten; flying with trees, one to a hundred; and flying with grasses, one to a thousand. The other pairings follow the same pattern, using ten, a hundred, and a thousand as the successive bases of proportion.

The categories of flying, walking, woody, and grassy species are combined in different ways and represented by numerical ratios. Among grasses, those that fly account for “one per thousand,” and those that walk for “one per ten.” Among woody plants, those that walk account for “one hundred per hundred,” while walking grasses account for “one thousand per thousand.”

Among woody plants, those that fly account for “one per hundred,” and those that walk for “ten per hundred.” Woody plants paired with woody plants account for “one hundred per hundred,” while woody plants paired with grasses account for “one thousand per hundred.”

Among grasses, those that fly account for “one per thousand,” and those that walk for “ten per thousand.” Grasses paired with woody plants account for “one hundred per thousand,” while grasses paired with grasses account for “one thousand per thousand.”

People, too, are divided into four categories: scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants. In the scholar category, scholars paired with scholars are “one per one”; scholars paired with farmers, “one per ten”; scholars paired with artisans, “one per hundred”; and scholars paired with merchants, “one per thousand.”

In the farmer category, farmers paired with scholars are “one per ten”; farmers paired with farmers, “ten per ten”; farmers paired with artisans, “one hundred per hundred”; and farmers paired with merchants, “one thousand per thousand.”

In the artisan category, artisans paired with scholars are “one per hundred”; artisans paired with farmers, “ten per hundred”; artisans paired with artisans, “one hundred per hundred”; and artisans paired with merchants, “one thousand per thousand.”

In the merchant category, merchants paired with scholars are “one per thousand”; merchants paired with farmers, “ten per thousand”; merchants paired with artisans, “one hundred per thousand”; and merchants paired with merchants, “one thousand per thousand.”

“One-one flying things correspond to a myriad things” means that, counting by the category of flying things designated “one and one,” the number corresponds to a myriad things. The ratios for merchants paired with scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants are likewise listed respectively as “one per thousand, ten per thousand, one hundred per thousand, and one thousand per thousand.”

The numerical correspondences for flying things are: one-one flying things correspond to a myriad things; one-ten flying things, to a hundred million things; one-hundred flying things, to ten thousand things; and one-thousand flying things, to one thousand things.

The numerical correspondences for walking things are: ten-one walking things correspond to a hundred million things; ten-ten walking things, to ten thousand things; ten-hundred walking things, to one thousand things; and ten-thousand walking things, to one hundred things.

The numerical correspondences for woody plants are: hundred-one woody plants correspond to ten thousand things; hundred-ten woody plants, to one thousand things; hundred-hundred walking things, to one hundred things; and hundred-thousand woody plants, to ten things.

The numerical correspondences for grasses are: thousand-one grasses correspond to one thousand things; thousand-ten grasses, to one hundred things; thousand-hundred grasses, to ten things; and thousand-thousand grasses, to one thing.

Among people, the scholar category also corresponds to numbers in a similar way: one-one scholars correspond to a myriad people; one-ten scholars, to a hundred million people; one-hundred scholars, to ten thousand people; and one-thousand scholars, to one thousand people.

The numerical correspondences for farmers are: ten-one farmers correspond to a hundred million people; ten-ten farmers, to ten thousand people; ten-hundred farmers, to one thousand people; and ten-thousand farmers, to one hundred people.

The labor of artisans: one person is worth ten thousand commoners, and ten people are worth one thousand commoners. A thousand scholars, by contrast, are worth one thousand commoners.

The labor of farmers: ten people are worth one hundred million commoners, a hundred people are worth ten thousand commoners, a thousand people are worth one thousand commoners, and ten thousand people are worth a hundred commoners.

The labor of artisans: one person is worth ten thousand commoners, ten people are worth one thousand commoners, a hundred people are worth a hundred commoners, and a thousand people are worth ten commoners.

The contribution of merchants: a thousand people are worth one thousand commoners, ten thousand people are worth a hundred commoners, a hundred thousand people are worth ten commoners, and a million people are worth one commoner.

A single thing can represent the myriad things only if it is something immense. A single person can represent the multitude only if that person is outstanding. When thousands upon thousands of things can be distilled into one, that one is something minute; when thousands upon thousands of people can be distilled into one, that person is ordinary and insignificant. From this we can see that things differ in size, and people in wisdom and folly.

If one could use the virtue by which vast Heaven gives rise to the myriad things to benefit the people, would that not be worthy of being called supremely divine? If one could use the power by which vast Heaven nurtures the myriad things to nurture the people, would that not be worthy of being called supremely wise? Only now do I understand that fully realizing the nature bestowed upon a person is a matter of great importance. Without sagacity and spiritual powers, how could one avoid betraying the divine nature bestowed by Heaven? How could one avoid betraying Heaven and Earth?

“Observing things” does not mean looking at them with the eyes; it means apprehending them with the mind. Nor does it mean apprehending them with the mind alone: one must also follow the principles inherent in things. All things under Heaven each have their own principle, nature, and destiny. A principle is known only after it has been investigated deeply; a nature is known only after it has been apprehended fully; a destiny is known only after it has been brought to its utmost. These three kinds of knowing are true knowledge under Heaven, which even a sage cannot surpass. Anyone who surpassed them could no longer be called a sage.

A mirror is bright because it reflects the forms of all things, allowing none to remain concealed. Yet though a mirror can reflect all things, it cannot match water in showing their forms; and though water can show their forms, it cannot match a sage in discerning their true condition. A sage can do this because he is able to “turn back and observe.” To “turn back and observe” means to look at things without relying on one’s own preconceptions, and instead to understand them by following what they are in themselves.

To view the myriad things without the bias of one’s personal preconceptions is to let them appear as they are. This is called “viewing things through things” (observing things from the things themselves, rather than judging them from one’s own standpoint). If one can observe in this way, how could one place the “I” among them and make it the center from which all things are judged?

From this we can see that I, too, am a person, and other people are like me; I and others are all part of the myriad things. Such a person can take the eyes of everyone under Heaven as their own, and so there is nothing they cannot see; take everyone’s ears as their own, and so there is nothing they cannot hear; take everyone’s mouths as their own, and so there is nothing they cannot discuss; and take everyone’s minds as their own, and so there is nothing they cannot deliberate.

Are not the observations of everyone under Heaven broad in what they see? Do not their listening ears reach far? Are not their discussions elevated in insight? Do not their plans seek a vast realm? If one person can possess such broad understanding, far-reaching hearing, incisive discourse, and expansive aspirations, while remaining inwardly unattached to acting from the self and making no claim to merit, could this not be called supreme spiritual insight and sagehood?

It is not only I who consider such a person supremely wise and sage; everyone under Heaven will think so, and people throughout the ages will think so too. As for a state beyond this level, it is beyond what I can know.