《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 11

Huainan Honglie Jie, Scroll Eleven, “Lanming” (Observing the Obscure) (Dong Jiu)

(Recorded and submitted by your servant Xu Shen, Libationer to the Grand Commandant)

Origin of the Chapter Title

“Lanming” means observing within the dark and obscure and at the beginnings of transformation, so that the utmost essence responds and connects with Heaven, penetrating through to the limitless. Hence it is called “Lanming,” and this was used as the chapter title.

Shi Kuang Plays “White Snow” and the Calamity of Duke Ping

In former times, Shi Kuang (a famous ancient music master) played the tune “White Snow,” and numinous prodigies descended because of it; wind and rain suddenly arrived. Duke Ping of Jin (Biao, son of Duke Dao of Jin) became gravely ill, and in the state of Jin the earth lay bare in a great drought.

(“White Snow” is the name of a piece of music for the fifty-string qin and se of Taiyi. The “numinous prodigies” refers to dark cranes and the like descending, and headless ghosts and the like holding halberds and dancing. Duke Ping’s virtue was shallow, and he could not withstand such prodigies, so he became gravely ill and there was a great drought. Only a sage ruler could control such prodigies and remain free of disaster.)

The Common Widow Cries to Heaven and the Calamity of Duke Jing

The common widow cried out her grievance to Heaven; thunder and lightning struck down; Duke Jing’s terrace collapsed; his limbs were injured and broken; and the sea surged forth greatly.

(The common widow was a widow of Qi. She had no son and did not remarry; she served her mother-in-law with care and respect. The mother-in-law had no son but had a daughter. The daughter, coveting her mother’s property, urged her mother to marry; the widow would not consent to the end. The daughter killed the mother in order to falsely accuse the widow. The widow could not clear herself; her grievance knotted up and she cried to Heaven. Heaven therefore made thunder and lightning, struck and destroyed Duke Jing’s terrace, damaged Duke Jing’s limbs, and the sea greatly overflowed because of it.)

Even the Lowly Can Move Heaven

The blind music master and the common widow were low in position; Shangxi, the officer in charge of the xi’er vegetable, had authority as light as a flying feather. (Shang means to oversee; xi is the xi’er vegetable. In You and Ji it is called tan cai; in Luoyang it is called hu xi. The one who held this office was extremely lowly and humble. The blind music master and the common widow were even lower in position than the officer in charge of xi, hence it is said their authority was light as a flying feather.)

Yet they concentrated their essence and sharpened their intent, set aside their tasks and accumulated spirit; above they communicated with the Nine Heavens and stirred and intensified the utmost essence. (The Nine Heavens are the eight directions and the center; they were moved by sincere essence.)

Heaven’s Punishment Leaves No Escape

From this we see that the punishments of Heaven—even in broad wilderness and empty space, in dark and remote seclusion, in hidden and layered concealment, in stone chambers with barriers, and in dangerous obstacles—plainly cannot be escaped.

(Heaven above means the Lord on High; the Lord on High is divine and luminous. It says that when people have guilt, even if they conceal and hide themselves, they will still be punished and harmed; hence it says there is no escape.)

King Wu’s Campaign Against Zhou and the Crossing at Mengjin

King Wu campaigned against Zhou and crossed at Mengjin; the waves of Yanghou (the Marquis of Yang, a water deity) surged upstream and struck them.

Note: The above incorporates Xu Shen’s commentary, already integrated into the vernacular; proper nouns are briefly explained at first occurrence.

Yang Hou was originally the ruler of the state of Lingyang; he drowned and died. Legend says his spirit could raise towering waves and harm travelers, so such great surges came to be called “the waves of Yang Hou.”

When a violent wind suddenly rose and the sky turned dark, people and horses could not see one another. King Wu held a yellow battle-axe (symbol of military authority) in his left hand and a white banner in his right; he glared and waved the banner, saying: “I bear the weight of all under heaven—who dares go against my will?” Then the wind stopped and the waves subsided. Duke Lu Yang was fighting Han when the battle was at its fiercest and night was falling; he raised his halberd and gestured toward the sun, and the sun actually retreated three “she” for him. A “she” was an ancient unit for measuring distance on a march or when making camp.

Duke Lu Yang was the district lord of Lu Yang in Chu; his title and name were connected with the grandson of King Ping of Chu and the son of Sima Ziqi. In ancient Chu, district magistrates were also called “gong” (lord), hence Duke Lu Yang. Here “han” means the fighting was intense, “hui” means to wave or brandish, and “the sun retreated three she for him” means the sun moved back three she on his account.

One who can preserve one’s original nature, hold fast to true character, and not harm oneself—even when caught in sudden peril—can be thoroughly attuned to heaven’s way. As for those who have never departed from the root of the Great Dao, what undertaking could they not accomplish? “Thoroughly attuned to heaven” refers to the sage; “root” means the foundation of the Great Dao—that is, the nature does not scatter outward and life is united with the Dao.

Death and life occupy the same realm; they cannot be coerced by force of power. A brave man may become a hero who matches an army alone, but that is still for the sake of reputation; even so, such men can exert themselves and hold firm—how much more those who take heaven and earth as their dwelling and hold the myriad things within their hearts? They befriend the transformations of heaven and earth (the cyclical changes of yin and yang), inwardly embody the breath of supreme harmony, outwardly resemble ordinary people, yet inwardly possess the Great Dao. They observe the changes of the nine heavens and also divined with tortoise shells about what was still unknown—but their hearts never parted from the Dao.

In former times, Yongmenzi once paid a visit to Lord Mengchang by weeping as his approach.

A Vernacular Reading of Related Passages from the Huainan Honglie

Yongmen Zhou (Yongmen was the area outside the west gate of Qi; because he lived beside it, he took the place as his surname) was skilled both at playing the qin and at “crying”—his crying was rich in sound and feeling, close to singing or chanting, and could move people deeply. Lord Mengchang (Tian Wen, chancellor of Qi) once personally heard his playing and his crying. Yongmen Zhou gave voice to his innermost feelings, stroking his chest and uttering sounds, and Lord Mengchang sobbed and choked because of him, tears streaming down his face, unable to stop himself. (“Xixu” and “wuyi” describe choking and losing one’s voice; “langli” here describes tears pouring down unchecked and impossible to gather up.)

Sorrow wells up from within, and outward form and expression respond to it; onlookers who see it also feel grief—this is the so-called Dao (the Way) that cannot be transmitted: it is not something that can be taught by oral formulas or imitated by outward appearance; only when essence and sincerity are concentrated can it move others. Without this “sovereign form” (the perfectly refined and unified spirit and bearing), merely imitating surface postures will surely make one a laughingstock.

Again, Pu Qiezi (a skilled archer of Chu), at a height of a hundred ren (in antiquity seven chi made one ren), used a corded arrow to tie fast a flying bird; Zhan He (a man of Chu who understood the arts of the Dao) cast a hook in a great abyss and could make fish rush toward him—both are said to have attained the Dao of purity and tranquility and the harmony of the Great Vastness (Taihao) (the subtle Qi harmonized with the great transformation of Heaven and Earth, so that things of like kind followed one another).

All things influence one another in ways mysterious, subtle, and hard to fathom; merely “knowing” cannot explain it, and merely debating cannot resolve it. Hence popular tradition says: when the east wind arrives, clear wine that is “zhan” bubbles over (the east wind belongs to Wood; wine is mostly sour; like kinds resonate with one another, hence such prognosticatory lore); when old silkworms spit silk at the mouth (“er”), the shang string on a qin (the fine and urgent note among the five tones, the Metal tone of the west) may break—some say silkworms belong to the Fire of the wu position, shang belongs to Metal, fresh silk is brittle, old silkworms resonate, and each stimulates the other; there are also divinatory observations such as “drawing in ashes and the moon moves or wanes,” all based on the principle of resonance among kinds.

Gist: From Yongmen’s crying, the passage turns to the point that the root of skill and transformative influence lies in essence and sincerity, not in superficialities; then it cites the analogies of archery and angling to show that when one is pure, tranquil, and harmonious, things come of themselves in response; the final section gives examples of wind, wine, silkworms, strings, and the moon to indicate that the principle of “mutual response” is profound and cannot be fully stated by clinging to one side alone.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

When a whale dies, a comet appears—this is because things of the same kind resonate with one another. (The character yun is pronounced like wei in lianwei; here yun refers to troops and commanders.) If there is military action, with troops encircling a city and standing guard, a lunar halo will appear in the sky. If one scatters reed ash into the moonlight beneath a window, a ring can be made visible; if one wipes away one side, the moon halo will also be missing a section—this is the same principle. The whale is a great fish, whose body may be several li long; it dies by the seaside. Fish are lowly creatures, while comets preside over disasters and anomalies and harm people; the two are of the same kind and thus resonate.

Therefore, when a sage occupies the throne, he holds the great Dao in his heart and does not speak much, and his grace naturally spreads to all people. (The sage practices the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), and so his blessings cover the world.) When ruler and ministers are divided at heart, celestial phenomena such as bei and er appear—these are signs of mutual resonance between human qi and heavenly qi. (The five-colored qi beside the sun moving out to both sides is called bei; moving outward is called jue; moving inward is called er; above and moving outward is called guan.)

Clouds in the mountains resemble vegetation; clouds over the water resemble fish scales. (Clouds formed from qi rising in the mountains resemble vegetation; clouds formed from qi rising over water resemble fish scales.) Clouds in dry weather resemble smoke and fire; clouds over a great marsh (cen) resemble waves and water—each resembles the form of the place from which it arises, and so they can mutually summon one another. (Drought clouds belong to excessive yang qi and resemble smoke and fire; cen is where great waters gather, and its clouds resemble waves and water.)

The yangsui (a bronze mirror that draws fire from the sun) obtains fire from the sun; the fangzhu (a bronze vessel that draws dew from the moon) obtains dew from the moon. (The character fu is pronounced as in dafu; this was explained above. Water and fire originally come from the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), and their presence in the human hand cannot be fully expressed in words.) Between heaven and earth, there are far too many cases of things of the same kind resonating with one another; even craftsmen skilled in calendrical arts cannot list them all. (Skill is craft. The resonances among the myriad things of heaven and earth are so numerous that even those skilled in calendrical techniques cannot exhaust their number.) The hand may touch vague, formless things, but it cannot grasp light. (The hand may touch omens, but it cannot obtain light; another explanation says: the Dao of heaven is vast, and though the hand can touch vague, formless things, it cannot see the light of the sun and moon.) Yet from within the palm, when one draws upon it up to the Taiji (the time when heaven and earth first took form), water and fire can be obtained at once—this is the result of Yin-Yang, sharing the same qi, moving together. (Moving means transformation.) This is the principle by which Fu Yue (a figure in legend) could ride on the Tail mansion.

Note: The interlinear notes in the original are mostly Han-dynasty or later commentators’ explanations of character meanings and the names of celestial phenomena, and have as far as possible been merged into the vernacular; proper names such as yangsui, fangzhu, bei, er, guan, and cen are retained with brief explanations.

[General Meaning of the Scripture]

The character “ye” is saying: King Wu Ding of Yin dreamed of a worthy man; he ordered people to search everywhere according to the portrait seen in the dream, and at Fu Yan they found Fu Yue. He was appointed minister and assisted Gaozong in completing the “Eight Government Affairs,” a sign confirming the omen of restoration. After death his spirit lodged in the “Ce Star,” that is, a star of the Tail Mansion.

Therefore the Qi (vital energy) of ultimate Yin is austere and descending, while the Qi of ultimate Yang is bright and blazing; the two Qi of Yin-Yang meet and unite, and from this all things are born. If there were only masculine strength and no feminine softness, how could all things be transformed and generated? This is what is called “argument without words, the great Dao (the Way) that is not designated by name.”

To influence distant regions, one must act through Wuwei (non-action) (distant regions refer to the Four Yi; to transform and guide the Four Yi, one should use Wuwei, and with Wuwei the remote tribes will come of themselves). To draw close those who are near, one must make the near “without affairs” (the near refers to the Xia lands; to be close to those near, one should have no affairs, and with no affairs the near people will naturally attach themselves). Only those who “travel by night” can possess this capacity (“night travel” is a metaphor for Yin practice, walking the Dao of spiritual transformation in the dark, and thus able to influence far and near. Another explanation: those who enter the Dao are like travelers by night in the dark, and only thus can master the method of summoning the distant and drawing near the close).

Hence, “horses are halted not for galloping but for their manure” (following the sense of Laozi: there is no need for galloping horses, for horse manure can fertilize the fields; this is a manifestation of perfect De (Virtue/Power). Another explanation: if the ruler lacks the Dao, then warhorses are born in the suburbs; in peace with no affairs, horses are halted to dung the fields, and so the wheel tracks of war chariots do not reach beyond distant regions. “Track” refers to the mark between the two wheels).

This is called: sitting at ease yet as if speeding, sinking into the earth yet as if floating, daytime as if in gloom, night as if brightly illuminated (meaning that in sitting or moving, spiritual transformation is extremely swift; sinking and floating, darkness and brightness all unite with the Dao).

Boiling glue in winter and making ice in summer are actions contrary to the season and difficult to succeed (a metaphor for acting contrary to the Dao, which makes affairs difficult to accomplish). The great Dao is without partiality; it neither favors those it draws near nor those it leaves. Those who can practice the Dao have merit to spare; those who cannot remain insufficient.

Following the Dao brings benefit; opposing the Dao brings misfortune. It is like the Pearl of the Marquis of Sui and the Jade of He (the Marquis of Sui was the ruler of Sui in the Spring and Autumn period; legend says he rescued a snake and obtained a pearl). Obtaining them brings wealth; losing them brings poverty.

Vernacular Interpretation

(Marginal note) In the region east of the Han River there was a feudal state of the Ji surname. The Marquis of Sui once saw a large snake whose body had been injured and severed; he applied medicine to treat it. Later the snake carried a large pearl in its mouth from the river to repay him; this is the so-called “Pearl of the Marquis of Sui,” probably a kind of moon-bright pearl. Bian He of Chu found a fine jade ore at the foot of Mount Jing and presented it to King Wu of Chu. King Wu had a jade craftsman examine it; the craftsman thought it was stone, so Bian He’s left foot was cut off. When King Wen ascended the throne, Bian He presented the jade ore again, and it was still regarded as stone, so his right foot was cut off. Bian He clung to the jade ore and would not let it go, weeping until he bled. When King Cheng ascended the throne, he presented it once more. King Cheng said that the former rulers had judged lightly and inflicted severe mutilation, and then had the stone cut open to inspect it; indeed, a fine jade was obtained and fashioned into a bi—probably a pure white jade that could shine at night. The affair occurred before the Spring and Autumn period, and King Cheng did not record it in the historical registers, so it is not written in the classics.

The measure of gain and loss is deeply hidden in the subtle and obscure; it is very difficult to explain clearly with words, nor can it be settled by argument alone. How can we know? For example, Dihuang (a drug chiefly associated with “attribution and nourishing the bones”) and Gancao (a drug chiefly for “generating flesh”): if because Dihuang is chiefly associated with bones one demands that it can also generate flesh, or because Gancao generates flesh one infers that it can also be associated with bones—this is like the idea attributed in legend to Wang Sun Chuo (said to be a man of Zhou and a descendant of the Wei grandee Wang Sun Jia): he originally wanted to use a single prescription to treat hemiplegia, yet wanted to double the dose to save a person already dead; one could say he completely misunderstood medical principles.

If one says fire can scorch wood and from this infers that fire can also melt metal, at the level of the Dao this may perhaps make sense; but if because lodestone can attract iron one demands that it also attract tiles, that is difficult—after all, the myriad things simply cannot be generalized by superficial standards such as “light and heavy.”

The sui (fire-making implement) draws fire from the sun; lodestone attracts iron; putting a crab into lacquer spoils the lacquer (when a crab is placed in lacquer, the lacquer will not dry and becomes unusable); kui (mallow) turns toward the sun—each of these has its own fixed mode of resonance. Even if a person is clever, he cannot force them to act contrary to their nature. Therefore, observation by ear and eye alone is insufficient to distinguish the principles of things; deliberation by the mind alone is insufficient to determine right and wrong. Thus, those who take “cleverness and cunning” as the foundation of governing the state will find it hard to preserve the state for long; only those who comprehend Great Harmony (Taihe, the foundation of harmony among Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things) and can uphold the spontaneous resonance of nature (following the nature of things and not acting rashly or intervening arbitrarily) can be said to truly possess the art of holding the state. Hence there can be calamitous changes such as Mount Yao collapsing and the Bo-Luo River—if governance does not follow nature, it will be hard to sustain. (This sentence uses an allusion to suggest that when government orders are perverse, disaster comes of itself.)

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The phrase “when the water falls, it dries up” refers to the area of Mount Yao within Yongzhou: the Boluo River is near Linjin in Fengyi, and the mountains at Linjin are linked in their topography; another account says that Boluo refers to the Jing River. The general meaning is that when water subsides it dries up, and this is used as a metaphor for certain circumstances or principles.

In the region of Yue there was a skilled sword-casting artisan, Ou Ye, who cast the famous sword Chunjun, a renowned sharp sword of antiquity. King Zhou was without the Dao, and the flattering minister Zuo Qiang urged him on from the side toward greed and licentiousness. Tai Gong, Jiang Shang, went to the end together with that generation, and only then was King Wu’s enterprise brought to completion. From this we see that the road of benefit and harm and the gate of misfortune and blessing are not obtained simply by deliberately seeking them.

The relation between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) is like that between ge and wei—ge denoting worked hide and wei denoting unworked tanned hide. The texture of ge symbolizes Dao, and the texture of wei symbolizes De. If you try to push Dao far away, it is instead right beside the person; if you try to grasp it through worldly affairs, the person has already moved far away from it. Failing to obtain Dao is like watching shu fish, small fish, in water: they can be seen in the water but cannot be caught; Dao is likewise so.

The sage is like a mirror: it neither welcomes nor sends off; when there is something to respond to, it responds, but it does not store the image in its heart. Therefore, as the ten thousand transformations flow onward, they do not harm him. To imagine one has gained is actually to have lost; to imagine one has lost may not mean one has not gained.

Again, consider tuning strings: pluck the gong string and the gong note responds; pluck the jue string and the jue note responds—this is like answering like. If one retunes only a single string, so that it stands in no fixed ratio to the five notes, yet when it is plucked all twenty-five strings respond—the sounds have not changed into anything else, but the “ruler of sounds,” the tonic, the gong note, has already become manifest.

(The “lord” has already taken form / the form of the sovereign has appeared.) Therefore, one who is threaded through with Taihe (Great Harmony, the great harmony in which life and death are equalized and the myriad things are at peace) is dim and indistinct, as if drunk, and gladly lies down within it; he roams about in it, yet does not know how he came to be there. (Taihe refers to the harmony in which life and death are equalized and there is neither partiality nor fixation.)

(He equalizes the extremes of adversity and success / the two ends of failure and success are already made equal in his mind.) The Way of centrality and correctness moves within him, and he himself does not know where it arrives. (He moistens and steeps dullness and obstruction with pure oneness and gentle thickness, and ends his life in sealed dullness / “pure oneness” means single-mindedness; “gentle warmth” means soft moistening; “submergence” means hiding away; “dull closure” means having no feelings or intentions, wishing to keep to this from beginning to end.)

(As if he had never at first left his source / as though he had never departed from the root of the Dao.) This is called Great Penetration.

Now the Red Chi and the Blue Qiu (both belonging to the dragon kind) roam in Jizhou. (Heaven is clear and Earth is settled; poisonous beasts do not stir; flying birds are not startled / heaven and earth are clear and stable, poisonous beasts do not appear, and flying birds do not take fright.) They enter the thin su-wood lands and eat the jianmei (jianmei is a grass fruit by the riverbank, shaped like a mulberry fruit but red)—they sip its flavor and hold its sweetness, and their steps do not go beyond a small plot of land, yet snakes and eels make light of them, thinking they cannot contend with them for supremacy in the rivers and seas. (The flavor they sip is enduringly fine; snakes and eels consider themselves able to surpass the Red Chi and the Blue Qiu.)

Suppose then it comes to the white dawn of dark clouds (xuan means black, su means white; black clouds rise and merge with the clear morning), Yin-Yang contend, sending down the fufeng wind and mingling with freezing rain, and they soar upward on the whirlwind (to send down; fufeng is a fierce wind, freezing rain is a violent rainstorm, fuyao is setting into motion; deng is to rise upward and depart with the wind and rain)—their awe moves heaven and earth, and their sound shakes within the four seas (all within the four seas fear them). The snakes and eels stick in the mud and filth, trapped within a hundred ren (a hundred ren is seven hundred feet; depth is measured in ren, though another account says ren refers to ditches and channels); bears and brown bears crawl among the hills and jagged rocks; tigers and leopards enter their dens and dare not roar (xi means entering the den; pao means roaring); apes and you-monkeys stumble and lose their tree branches (you is pronounced like “zhong,” an object that mountain people give to one another; you is a kind of ape with a long tail and an upturned nose). How much more so when the mere likes of snakes and eels are compared with the phoenix flying down (the male is feng, the female is huang; it comes flying for a ruler of perfect virtue)? Thunder and lightning do not…

(The final phrase, “thunder and lightning do not…,” is incomplete in the excerpt provided; in the usual Huainanzi context it is often followed by words such as “shake” or “terrify.” It is presented here only according to the punctuation of the original text.)

Excerpted Vernacular Translation of Huainan Honglie Jie

When the wind does not rise and the rain does not come, when valleys do not overflow and grasses and trees do not sway, swallows and sparrows grow smug, thinking that even the phoenix cannot outmatch them between heaven and earth, and feeling themselves stronger than the phoenix. (“Universe” here mostly refers to the space of heaven and earth symbolized by eaves and ridgepoles—that is, the above and below and the four directions as seen in the human world.)

But the phoenix can fly back to the highest heights, rising straight into clouds ten thousand ren high, soaring and circling beyond the four seas. It flies past Shupu on Mount Kunlun and drinks beside the clear rushing water at Dizhu in the Yellow River; it lingers by the islet near the Mengsi waters where the sun and moon emerge, roams unhurried around the Jizhou region, then directly treads across the wilds of Duguang and, at the place called Yijie, escorts the sun as it sets into the mountains. (Duguang is a famous mountain in the southeast; legend says the various emperors ascend and descend there. Ruoshui and Fengxue refer, in northern myth, to the banks of the Weak Water and the place from which cold winds issue.)

Whenever the phoenix flies in this way, swans, geese, orioles, and the like are all terrified; they lie prostrate and hide, pressing their beaks to the ground and riverbanks, not daring to stir.

How could swallows and sparrows compare? It is like seeing only small-scale movements and yet not understanding where the Great Dao and moral integrity actually come from.

In former times, Wang Liang and Zaofu drove chariots (Wang Liang was a charioteer of Jin, and later there was the Wang Liang star; Zaofu, of the Ying surname, was skilled in driving and once drove for King Mu of Zhou). When they mounted the chariot, they gripped the reins tightly and straightened the bridles…

This passage describes the levels of charioteering, from the first entry into the gate to the realm of transformation.

At the beginning stage, one uses the reins to make the horses orderly and coordinated, their steps even, their work and rest balanced. In this way the horses are relaxed and content, their breath harmonious, their bodies light and agile; they take pleasure in work and are glad to advance, and when they gallop they seem about to vanish. The left and right auxiliary horses coordinate as if driven by the whip, and they turn as if going in a circle. People in the world all consider this a high level of skill, but they have not yet seen the truly precious realm.

At the stage of transformation, like the legendary charioteers Qian Ju and Da Bing, they remove the reins and bit, throw away the whip and goad, and the carriage moves forward without being pushed, the horses run without being driven. They merely take the chariot and horses as outward form and rely on spirit and Qi to sustain them. The sun moves and the moon travels, the stars shine and the mysterious heaven revolves; lightning flashes and thunder rolls, like ghosts and spirits galloping, yet in advancing and retreating, bending and stretching, no signs or traces can be seen. Without beckoning or pointing, without shouting commands, they can make the north-returning wild geese turn back at Jieshi Mountain and make the Kunji bird be overtaken at Guyu Mountain. They gallop like flying, leap like an arrow leaving the string, can catch the swift wind and overtake light and shadow; in the morning they set out from Taosang, the place of sunrise, and by evening they arrive at Luotang, the place of sunset.

This is the realm in which great use is accomplished without deliberate exertion; it is not something that can be reached by thought and clear discernment, or by nimble hands and feet.

In remote antiquity, when the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi) governed the realm, he was assisted by Li Mu (Lì Mù) and Taishan Ji (Tàishān Jī). Through the arts of the Way (daoshu), they governed all under Heaven. They regulated the laws that govern the movements of the sun and moon, harmonized the qi of Yin-Yang with the seasons and festivals, and corrected the mathematics of the calendar. The Yellow Emperor further distinguished men from women and male from female, and clarified the ranks of high and low, so that the strong did not oppress the weak and the many did not bully the few. The common people were able to preserve their lives and were not cut short. Harvests were abundant and there were no calamities. The officials were upright and free of private interest, and ruler and ministers were in harmony and free of fault. The laws were clear and not obscure, and the assisting ministers were fair and impartial.

Farmers did not encroach on one another's field boundaries, and fishermen did not contend over the bends of a stream, the wei (the deep, curving part of a waterway where fish gather). Items lost on the road were not taken for private use, prices in the markets were not inflated, city gates did not need to be shut, and towns had no thieves. Villagers yielded possessions to one another, because every household had a surplus. Even the pigs and dogs that ate beans and millet on the road did not stir any desire to compete.

Thus the sun and moon shone brightly, the stars kept their courses without losing their measure, wind and rain came in season, and the five grains ripened abundantly. Tigers and wolves did not savagely bite people, and fierce birds did not wantonly strike. Phoenixes (fenghuang) roosted in the courtyards, qilin roamed the wild countryside, azure dragons drew the chariots, and the divine horses Feihuang (a kind of divine steed) rested in the stables. From distant lands such as Dan'er in the north, there was none that did not come to present tribute.

Yet such a flourishing age still could not match the Way of Fuxi (Fúxī; also written with a different character for his name). In the far past, the distant regions of the four quarters collapsed, the nine provinces (Jiuzhou) split apart, and the Way of Heaven (tiandao) could no longer cover and shelter all things, while the earth had lost its complete capacity to bear them.

This passage in the Huainan Honglie Jie discusses the collapse of Heaven and Earth in high antiquity, Nüwa’s ordering of the world, and how people then lived with nature.

Around Mount Buzhou, fierce fires blazed without cease, and vast waters flooded endlessly. Savage beasts gnawed at good common people, and birds of prey seized the old and weak. Thereupon Nüwa (the sovereign of yin virtue who, according to legend, assisted Fuxi in governing the world; when in the time of the Three Sovereigns the northwest sky collapsed, she repaired Heaven with five-colored stones) smelted five-colored stones to patch the blue sky. She also cut off the four feet of the great ao (giant turtle) to prop up the four extremities of Heaven (Heaven tilted as if about to fall, so the turtle’s feet were used as pillars; the Chu Ci contains the saying that “the ao bears [the world]”). She killed the Black Dragon (a water spirit; legend says that Limu, Taiji, and others killed it to stop violent rainstorms) to save Jizhou (among the Nine Provinces, a general reference to the land where the Chinese then lived). She piled up reed ash to stop the excessive waters (floodwaters that rose from level ground and overflowed disastrously; reeds grow in water, so their ash was piled up to stop the water). When the blue sky was patched, the four extremities were set right, the floodwaters receded, Jizhou was pacified, harmful creatures died, and the good people were able to survive.

At that time people “turned their backs on the square province and embraced the round Heaven” (the square province means Earth: they leaned back against the earth and held the round Heaven in their embrace). Spring’s mildness, summer’s heat, autumn’s gathering, and winter’s cold each kept its proper order. They pillowed on square pillows (a square about four cun across) and lay on rope beds (beds woven from rope, symbolizing the preservation of truth and plain simplicity in sleep). Where Yin-Yang was blocked and did not flow, they opened the acupoints and meridians; against rebellious Qi that was perverse and harmed people and things, and against those who thickly accumulated private wealth and obstructed the multitude, they likewise imposed checks.

In such an age, when people lay down their minds were without distracting thoughts (juju, pronounced close to xu, meaning “without thought”), and when they rose their gaze was blank, without playing at cleverness (mianmian, looking without any cunning). Some likened themselves to horses, some to oxen; they walked steadily (tiantian, pronounced close to tian), and their eyes were uncomprehending (mingming). Simple and unknowing, they were yet in harmony with the Qi of Heaven and Earth; they did not know where life came from, drifted through the world without knowing what they sought, and even the wangliang specters did not know where they went.

At that time birds and beasts and venomous snakes all retracted their claws and fangs, hid their poisons and stingers, and had no thought of seizing food or biting people. Examining Nüwa’s achievements: above she joined with the Nine Heavens, below she was in accord with the Yellow Springs and the yellow earth (beneath the Yellow Springs there is lu earth; lu is pronounced like lú), and her fame spread far.

Vernacular Interpretation

In later ages his radiance shone upon the myriad things, giving all things their luster. He rode a thunder chariot, with Yinglong as the team and Qingqiu as the outer horses. Yinglong is the dragon that responds to De (Virtue/Power); it occupies the center as the team, while those at the sides are the outer horses. Horned ones are dragons; hornless ones are qiu. Another account says Yinglong is a winged dragon. He attracted auspicious objects such as pearls and jade, and laid out charts and registers as mats and cushions. Another account says the “spread-out charts” are mats in the chariot.

The Qi (vital energy) of yellow clouds curled around the front of the chariot; a white chi led in front, and the Benshe (Tengshe, Flying Serpent) followed behind—all were auspicious responses. He roamed and wandered freely, guided ghosts and spirits, ascended to the Nine Heavens (the eight directions plus the center), and at the Lingmen (Spirit Gate) had audience with the Heavenly Emperor. The Spirit Gate is the gate for having audience with the Heavenly Emperor.

Beneath the Taizu (Great Ancestor)—the great lineage of the Dao (the Way)—he rested in peace and tranquility, harmonious and mild, not displaying achievements or proclaiming his name. This is the way of hiding the Zhenren (Perfected Person), so as to comply with the spontaneous nature of Heaven and Earth. Why is this so? Because when Dao and De are communicated on high, cleverness, cunning, and fraud naturally disappear.

When it came to the time of Xia Jie, the ruler was benighted and did not understand the Dao; the way of benevolence and righteousness gradually eroded and was not cultivated; he cast off the grace of the Five Emperors and trampled the laws and standards of the Three Kings. Thereupon supreme De was submerged and no longer made manifest, and the imperial Dao lay hidden and no longer arose. His actions ran counter to Heaven, and his issued orders defied the four seasons. Spring and autumn concealed their harmony, and Heaven and Earth removed their De—harmonious Qi and harmonious De no longer operated, and what he imposed grew daily more noxious without his knowing it.

The benevolent ruler occupied his position but was not at peace; the great officers concealed the Dao and did not speak—the people were not at peace, the way of benevolence and righteousness was not upright, and they did not remonstrate with frank words. The Analects says: “When the state lacks the Dao, act with perilous integrity and speak with modesty.” The assembled ministers tried to fathom the ruler’s intentions and harbored what they deemed fitting.

Note: This passage contrasts the ideal sage king—riding dragons, ascending to the Nine Heavens, having audience with the Emperor at the Spirit Gate, and hiding the way of the Zhenren—with the age of Xia Jie. It emphasizes the decline of supreme De, the imperial Dao, and benevolence and righteousness, and cites the Analects’ “act with perilous integrity and speak with modesty,” reflecting the Confucian and Daoist critique of a chaotic age. Proper nouns such as Yinglong, Qingqiu, Benshe, Nine Heavens, Spirit Gate, and Great Ancestor have been retained as in the original with brief explanations.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Alienating one’s own flesh and blood while sheltering the wicked

To distance oneself from kin and yet indulge treacherous people.

Forming cliques and plotting in secret (secret plotting means scheming privately)

Petty people collude in groups and calculate in the shadows, wedged between ruler and minister, father and son.

Yet competing to flatter a benighted ruler and follow his will (xiang means to follow and cater to)

They vie to curry favor with a muddled ruler, pandering single-mindedly to his wishes.

Confusing people in order to accomplish their private designs

Bewildering the populace so as to complete their own selfish plans.

Therefore ruler and minister are at odds and no longer close; flesh and blood are estranged and no longer attached

Thus ruler and ministers become divided and no longer intimate, while kin grow distant and no longer cling together.

The sacred tree of the soil altar withers and cracks

This means the spirits are no longer sacrificed to according to ritual.

The ceremonial terrace shakes and is overturned

This means rites and music have collapsed, proper ceremonies cannot be performed, and so heavenly signs give warning and the terrace is ruined.

Packs of dogs howl and enter the abyss

Some say the dogs, having lost their master, howl and throw themselves into the deep; another saying takes it as an omen of canine calamity.

Pigs carry bedding in their mouths and bed down in damp hollows

Some call it a pig calamity; another saying has pigs carrying mats and hiding in their lairs.

Beautiful women go with tangled hair and blackened faces, no longer attending to their appearance (tangled hair means hair disheveled as if woven with grass; blackened face means no cosmetic adornment)

Beauties go unkempt and soiled, no longer grooming themselves.

Fine-voiced singers swallow charcoal and hold their breath, no longer singing (fine-voiced means a person skilled in singing)

Skilled singers swallow charcoal to ruin their throats and hold their breath, no longer singing—seeing the world in chaos and nearing ruin, they cut off their voices themselves.

Mourning does not exhaust its grief, and the joy of hunting is no longer heard

Mourning rites cannot express full sorrow, and the pleasure of the hunt is no longer heard—the times are disordered and rites ruined, so both grief and joy are lost.

The Queen Mother of the West breaks the sheng ornament on her head; the Shen (spirit) of the Yellow Emperor whistles and laments

The Queen Mother of the West breaks the headdress she wears; the spirit of the Yellow Emperor wails and sighs because the Dao has declined—this speaks of an age without laws and measures.

Flying birds have injured wings; running beasts have crippled feet (injured wings means wings hurt while spreading; crippled feet means lame and unable to walk)

Birds have broken wings and beasts are lame—this means Jie was without the Dao and hunting was constant, so birds and beasts were often wounded.

On the mountains there is no tall fine timber; in the marshes there is no standing water (tall fine timber means excellent wood; standing water means water that collects and remains)

No tall good trees are seen on the mountains, and no standing water remains in the marshes—mountains and marshes have lost their proper order and timing.

Foxes take the lead in their burrows; horses and cattle are turned loose and lost

Foxes become foremost in their holes, while horses and oxen wander off and are lost.

In the fields no standing grain is seen; on the roads grow wild grasses such as sedge and fan grass (sedge and fan grass are wild grasses resembling zhen and duan)

No standing grain remains in the fields, and the roads are overgrown with wild grasses of the sedge and fan-grass kind.

Gold accumulates in the mountains

Gold piles up in the mountains—this too is an image of a chaotic age and of root and branch inverted, listed alongside the above calamities and the ruin of rites.

Note: The original text contains many parenthetical annotations from commentaries (such as “secret plotting means private scheming” and “xiang means to follow”), which have been integrated into the meaning of the sentences above. Where the square-box lacuna appears, the original character is damaged; following annotations such as “it says that sacrifices to the spirits are not performed,” it is understood as “the reverent sacrifice to the spirits has been abandoned.” If one needs to compare a particular edition to restore missing characters, the page number of the base text may be provided.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Vernacular Interpretation

Breaking the Edge and Wearing Away the Jade Pattern—Without Principle

“Lian” refers to the sharpness of a blade; “bi” refers to the pattern on a jade object. When metal Qi gathers for a long time, the blade’s edge becomes dull; when a jade object’s pattern is rubbed over and over, it too is worn smooth. This is a metaphor: when an object is used too much, it loses its original sharpness and grain. Here “bi” may also be read as “pi” (law and measure), meaning that when laws and measures are abused, they too appear rigid and ineffective.

The Qing and the Turtle Have No Belly

The qing (a stone chime) is hollow in the middle, as a qing is; turtle shells are drilled with many holes for divination, so they are also “emptied out and have no belly.” This means: Jie of Xia did not practice the right way or cultivate benevolent De; he merely divined with turtles and yarrow again and again, yet obtained no good omens. The Book of Songs says, “Holding millet, going out to divine—how can one obtain good fortune?” and also, “My turtle is already weary; it does not tell me the plan.” When divination is excessive, even the spirits no longer respond.

Yarrow Stalks and Divination Slips: “Shi” (Proper Application)

The Yi says: to divine repeatedly about the same matter is “profanation”; when profaned, there is no answer. People of later ages, using yarrow stalks and bamboo slips for divination, should also keep to the meaning of “shi”—moderation, not excessive divination.

In Late Times, the Seven States Were of Different Lineages

“Late times” refers to the period after the Spring and Autumn era and the end of the Warring States. The seven states—Qi, Chu, Yan, Zhao, Han, Wei, and Qin—had rulers with different surnames (for example, the Tian clan in Qi, the Mi clan in Chu, the Yao clan in Yan, and so on), and so they are called “different lineages.” Their laws and customs were each different.

Vertical and Horizontal Alliances Used Arms Against One Another

Su Qin advocated “Hezong” (joining north and south as a vertical alliance), while Zhang Yi advocated “Lianheng” (joining east and west as a horizontal alliance). The feudal lords either combined or split apart and used arms to wrestle with one another. Once a vertical or horizontal alignment was formed, Qin was often made emperor.

Attacking Cities with Cages and Slaughter, Overturning Heights and Endangering Peace, Digging Graves, Exposing Bones

When attacking cities, they used cage carts and slaughter; they overturned high terraces and endangered peaceful dwellings; they dug open graves and exposed human bones.

Great Battering Rams and High Layered Mounds

A battering ram was a siege engine with a large iron mace at the end of its shaft, with armored men and horses. In ancient times, when punishing a disrespectful state, they would take the “whale” (the heads of great enemies) and display them, collect the corpses and bones, pile up earth to bury them or heap them into a high terrace, called a “jingguan” (mound of viewing). “High layered jingguan” means building such mounds to intimidate.

Clearing War Roads, Taking Death Routes, Offending Strong Enemies, Destroying the Unrighteous—A Hundred Go and One Returns; Fame Merely Flourishes

They opened up battlefields and deliberately took death routes; they offended powerful enemies and slaughtered the unrighteous; of a hundred who set out, often only one returned (another reading: only one victory in a hundred campaigns). Although fame might flourish for a time, the price was human life.

Thus the Strong and Light-Footed Become Armored Soldiers a Thousand Li Away

Therefore, those who were physically strong and light of foot were conscripted as armored soldiers and common troops and sent a thousand li away.

The Aged and Weak at Home Grieve Within; Servants and Grooms Push Carts and Supply Provisions

The elderly and weak at home grieved in the lanes; laborers, servants, and grooms pushed carts and transported provisions. “Fen” means to push a cart; “xiang” means provisions. “Fen” is read close to the “tuo” in “jifu,” meaning to push, pull, and transport.

The Road and Horses Are Distant and Tired; Frost and Snow Gather Frequently; Short Coarse Garments Are Incomplete

The roads were distant and the horses exhausted; frost and snow came frequently; the laborers wearing short coarse wool garments could not cover their bodies completely.

Overall meaning: Using the metaphors that objects become dull when overused and that excessive turtle divination loses its efficacy, this passage criticizes the late Warring States period: the seven states had different customs, and vertical and horizontal alliances made war on one another—attacking cities, digging graves, building jingguan, using battering rams and slaughter; the strong were conscripted as soldiers, the old and weak wept at home, transport laborers wore incomplete coarse garments; the so-called “fame” of “a hundred go and one returns” was in truth purchased with the lives of the common people.

(Saying that even the horses’ coats are no longer intact describes the people’s poverty.) The common people are emaciated, their carts are broken, and mud and water reach their knees; on the roads they support one another and struggle forward. (“Fen shou” means that on the road they can barely raise their heads; it describes how labor service exhausts people completely.)

Some remain bound to instruments of punishment until death. (“Ge” is the crossbar on a punishment frame. It refers to people completely stripped by tax collection and confiscation, bound to the frame and unable to get free, hence the phrase “to die pillowed on the crossbar.”) What is called annexing other states and seizing land often leaves hundreds of thousands of corpses lying about and thousands of carts broken; those wounded by bows, crossbows, spears, halberds, arrows, and stones are supported and lifted as they collapse by the roadside. So the age reached the point where people pillowed on human heads, ate human flesh, pickled human livers, and drank human blood, and still found these more delicious than beef, mutton, pork, and dog meat. (“Gan” means to relish.)

Therefore, after the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, the people of the world have never been able to settle their natures and dispositions, delight in their customs, preserve their heavenly mandate, and avoid being cut short by human calamity. (Here “nüe” means harm.) Why? The vassal lords relied on armed force to attack and conquer, until the world was united into a single house, down to the present—the Son of Heaven sits on high (referring here to Emperor Wu of Han), upholds himself with Dao and De, and is assisted by benevolence and righteousness. Those near offer their wisdom; those far cherish his virtue. With folded hands he directs, and the four seas submit as guests; in spring, autumn, winter, and summer they all send tribute; the world is blended and unified as one. (“Hun” means “united/same.”) His descendants pass it down through generations; this was how the Five Emperors complied with Heavenly De.

Sages cannot create the times; they can only avoid losing the opportunity when the time arrives. The assisting ministers must be capable: they dismiss slanderers, quiet clever disputation, abolish harsh laws, remove vexatious and burdensome affairs, block the channels of rumor, close the doors of factionalism, eliminate clever cunning, cultivate and regulate the Great Constant (the constant Dao), damage the wisdom of branches and knots, and reduce petty cleverness (removing petty cleverness along with great desires for profit). They greatly penetrate the undifferentiated darkness, release the mind and free the spirit, become indifferent as if without soul or spirit, and cause the ten thousand things each to return to their root—this is to practice the traces of Fuxi and restore the Dao of the Five Emperors. (“Fan” means to return.)

Qianju and Dabing (ancient experts at driving horses) did not use reins and bits, yet were famed throughout the world for their excellent driving; Fuxi and Nüwa did not establish laws and standards, yet with supreme De they handed down a legacy to later generations. Why was this?

A Vernacular Reading of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Therefore, the highest governance should be empty and still, undivided, and should not take up those troublesome, harsh, and calculating affairs. (The expression in question means splitting hairs and calculating too finely; here it means not taking on those vexatious and oppressive matters.)

The Zhou Shu says: When one fails to catch a pheasant by covering it because the method is wrong, one should follow the wind and begin again. (Though the pheasant is not caught, one should still proceed with the upper wind and act according to principle.) From this it is clear that whether one acts or refrains from acting, one should take Dao and De as the root; if one single-mindedly exalts the methods of Shen and Shang, one loses that root.

As for the statecraft of Shen Buhai, Han Fei, and Shang Yang (Gongsun Yang)—all three practiced harsh and mean methods—it was nothing but pulling out the roots and discarding the foundation, never asking how disorder had come to this pass. They chiseled the Five Punishments into place and cut and whittled away at the people, turning their backs on the root of Dao and De, while contending for victory over tiny profits as small as the tip of an awl or knife. (The “tip of an awl or knife” is a metaphor for extremely small profit, meaning they contended over every petty gain.) The people were ravaged as if mown like mugwort (using plants and trees as a metaphor for failing to nourish the people); sickly and weakened, more than half were depleted (“dan” means sickly and weak; “taiban” means more than half), yet the rulers were still rejoicing and self-satisfied, believing they had a proper method for governing the state. (“Xinxin” describes self-congratulation and smugness.) This is like carrying firewood to put out a fire or cutting a hole in the wall of a well to draw water; it is also like planting catalpa by a well and sticking a slender branch by a ditch—the catalpa will not become useful timber, and the branch by the ditch cannot prop up a boat; in less than three months they will surely wither and die. (“Zhi” refers to timber trees; growing by the ditch, it becomes a mere sapling. This is a metaphor that the methods of Shen, Han, and Shang Yang are like catalpa and saplings growing in the wrong place—rootless and yet growing wildly.) Why is this so? It is all because they grow recklessly without roots.

The Yellow River has nine bends yet still pours into the sea without ceasing, because it has Kunlun as its source. (“Zhe” means a bend.) Although accumulated rainwater may for a time be vast and boundless, if it does not rain for ten days or a month, it dries up. Although marshy ground can hold rainwater, without a source it cannot last long. (“Yi” refers to rapid rainwater runoff; therefore it is said to have no source. “Yi” is pronounced like the Yan dialect word “qiangchun” and is the same as “chi.”)

Again, Yi sought the elixir of immortality from the Queen Mother of the West (a goddess of the west in myth), and Heng’e (Yi’s wife; Yi had sought the medicine from the Queen Mother of the West but had not yet taken it, and Heng’e stole and ate it, becoming immortal) stole it and fled to the moon. (Some versions say “fled to the moon”; others say “ben rou,” which is the name of the medicine.)

Vernacular Interpretation

(Believing that the flesh of a dead domestic animal could come back to life) he was therefore overcome with a sense of loss, as if he had lost something but had no way to recover it. (This says that Hou Yi was despondent and disappointed, as though he had lost something.)

(What had been lost could never be recovered, and he wished to use the elixir of immortality to prolong life.) Why? Because he did not know how the elixir of immortality came about.

(Where does the elixir of immortality come from? Hou Yi did not know where it came from; Shen Buhai, Han Fei, Shang Yang, and others failed to grasp the root of governing the state, just as one might beg others for medicine. One account says: Hou Yi believed that life resided in the medicine, not knowing that life fundamentally lies with Heaven; this is why some people wanted to find out how the elixir of immortality was made.) Therefore, begging for fire is not as good as drilling wood to make fire oneself, and drawing water from another’s well is not as good as digging one’s own well.

Note: This passage comes from exegetical writing of the Huainanzi type. Using examples such as Hou Yi seeking the immortal elixir and the reforms associated with Shen Buhai and Han Fei, it makes the point that if one does not begin from the root and seeks only ready-made “medicine” or “technique,” one will ultimately labor in vain. Governing the state and nourishing life should both be like “obtaining fire” and “digging a well”: one should exert effort at the source, not beg outwardly.