《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 13

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 13, “Dong” (Movement), No. 11

Annotated and submitted by Xu Shen, Libationer to the Grand Commandant.

“Ben Jing” as a chapter title: “Ben” means root or beginning; “Jing” means the constant way. The Dao of Heaven transforms and generates the myriad things through constant norms; order and disorder, rise and fall, gain and loss, misfortune and blessing all have fixed constants. Hence the title “Ben Jing.”

The Realm at the Beginning of Taiqing

The initial Wuwei of Taiqing (referring to the highest level of purity, stillness, and non-action) refers to the age of the Three Sovereigns (Sanhuang): the world was harmonious and compliant, people did not defy Heaven’s will or violently harm the myriad things; government was pure and quiet, disturbing the common people little. Human nature was plain and true to its original authenticity, and the spirit was not scattered; inwardly they were calm and without desires, neither restless nor disturbed, and so could endure long without loss.

Inwardly, their minds were peaceful and their desires few, so they could accord with the Dao (the Way). Outwardly, their every action did not overstep the rules, so they could accord with righteousness (some editions read “accord with De [Virtue/Power]”).

Every movement and action naturally formed patterns; they acted briskly and deftly, making it easy to handle the myriad affairs. Their words were concise and their essentials clear; their conduct was plain and conformed to human feelings. (Here “yue” may also be read as the “yue” of hunting, denoting a pleasantness that does not feel laborious.) Inwardly they were harmonious and joyful without pretense; in their affairs they were plain and unadorned.

Therefore they did not need to choose auspicious days, did not need to consult the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), and did not need to divine by turtle omens (the ancients used cracks in turtle shells and trigram images to determine fortune and misfortune); they did not deliberately plan where to begin or where to end. When it was time for peace they stopped; when stirred they acted. They were of one body with Heaven and Earth, shared the subtle essence of Yin-Yang, shared the harmony of the four seasons, and shone like the sun and moon. They harmonized with creation and transformation (the generative power of Heaven and Earth), like male and female paired together.

Heaven covers the myriad things with De; Earth bears the myriad things with joy. The four seasons do not disrupt their order; wind and rain do not become violent; the sun and moon are clear and radiate light; the Five Planets (such as Yinghuo [Mars] and Taibai [Venus]) move along their tracks and do not lose their constant Dao.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

When Suixing (Jupiter) moves along its orbit and proceeds in order, this is exactly the situation in which the world follows the heavenly Dao.

At this time, Xuantian (Heaven and primordial Qi) moves vast and expansive, its gracious light shining everywhere - like a ruler of profound De (Virtue/Power), whose benevolence is broad and illuminates the four seas. Phoenixes and qilin come to the courtyards; when yarrow stalks are used for divination and turtle shells are used to ask omens, the omen texts are trustworthy and can distinguish good and bad fortune. Sweet dew falls, bamboo seeds are full; liuhuang (a kind of fine jade) appears, and red grass (zhu cao) grows in the courtyard - all these are auspicious responses of a flourishing age.

At that time people's hearts were open and broad, and cunning and deceit could not be hidden. In a declining age, people cut into mountains to gather metals and jade, carve and engrave metals and jade to make vessels, and pry open mussels and clams to take pearls. Copper and iron are mined nearly out, and the myriad things find it hard to grow and flourish. They cut open animal wombs and kill young deer, so the qilin no longer roams; they overturn nests and destroy eggs, so the phoenix no longer flies. (Luan: an egg before the bird has grown into a fledgling.)

They drill wood to make fire, build platforms from timber, burn forests to hunt, and drain ponds to catch fish. ("Tian" refers to an enclosed hunt; "jieze" means draining the pond dry.) The implements people use are still felt to be insufficient, yet the treasuries are already piled with surplus. ("Xie" means implements and tools; "chuzang" means stored accumulation.) Yet the myriad things do not multiply; those that sprout, hatch, or conceive but cannot complete the process make up more than half.

People pile up earth to dwell, fertilize fields and plant grain, dig wells to drink, and dredge river channels to make them flow freely. ("Shu" means opening up.) They build walls to secure themselves and pen wild beasts as livestock - thus Yin-Yang falls into disorder, the four seasons lose their order, thunder and lightning break things, hail falls, and fog, snow, and frost damage continue without stopping. ("Ji" means to stop or clear.) The myriad things are scorched, withered, and cut off young. (Frost and snow disasters do not cease, so plants cannot flourish.)

In the fields, zi (noxious weeds), zhen (tangled brushwood), and filthy growth pile up among the field paths. The wild tan (a kind of wild grass) that is mowed and killed is more than the sturdy grain seedlings; plants that have just sprouted, formed buds, or set fruit and then wither and die make up more than half. ("Xiu" here carries a sense of cutting and killing; read against "miao jia" (seedlings and crops), it speaks of fields lying waste and harvest being hopeless.)

Note: The interlinear notes in the original are old commentaries and have been incorporated into the vernacular as appropriate; the final phrase "er si zhe bu bai zhe" is suspected to contain a corrupt character (or a variant such as "da ban" and so on), so according to context it is translated as "make up more than half."

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The palaces were as tall and vast as great mansions, with linked ornaments hanging beneath the eaves; beside the doors stood doorposts, and the rafter ends, eaves, ridge beams, and lintels were all intricately carved and finely engraved. On the curved corners of the roof, patterns of hibiscus, water caltrop, and lotus contended in five colors, their hues interlacing in dazzling, gorgeous variety. There were also such elaborate carvings as xiushan, quxiao, yaojiao, zengrao, mangfan, and fennu (all names of various ingenious roof ornaments). Even if Gongshu (the legendary craftsman of Lu Ban’s type) and Wang Er (an ancient master craftsman) wielded chisels, planes, saws, and other tools, they could hardly satisfy the ruler’s desire for boundless luxury.

Hence anomalous disasters appeared: pines and cypresses, which should have deep roots and lush foliage, along with cold-resistant plants such as fungi, lu, bamboo, and guan reeds, unexpectedly withered and died in summer (a metaphor for the ruler acting out of season and Yin-Yang losing order). The three rivers Jing, Wei, and Qian stopped flowing and ran dry (an ancient omen of Shang’s downfall, as discussed in the Guoyu). Yiyang (an earth deity, said to have appeared at Muye when Yin was about to perish) showed itself in the suburban pastures; locusts, cicadas, midges, and the like covered the fields. The sky was dry and the earth cracked, and the phoenix did not alight; fierce beasts with hooked claws, sharp fangs, goring horns, and blade-like spurs roamed everywhere—all these were anomalies throughout the realm brought on by excessive luxury and the loss of political order.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

(The preceding passage discusses birds and beasts of prey.) Creatures such as eagles and hawks rely on talons and fangs; bears and tigers rely on their sharp ju (ju means the power to resist and guard). The common people had only crude huts and thatched shelters, with no decent place to settle. (Zhuan shi means a separate small room; peng lu is a covered hut made of bamboo strips, grass, and the like, describing how, if a guest should come, there was nowhere to receive or lodge them.) Those who died of hunger and cold lay scattered in heaps, too many to count.

Later, when someone divided the mountains, rivers, valleys, and streams, fixed boundaries, counted the population to determine shares, built city walls and dug moats, and set up mechanical devices and strategic obstacles for attack and defense, and further assigned clothing ranks according to office (dengcha means hierarchical distinctions), distinguishing noble from base and worthy from unworthy, using the classics to determine right and wrong, using blame and praise, and carrying out rewards and punishments (jing means according to the classics and legal standards; fei is evil, yu is good—rewarding what should be rewarded and punishing what should be punished)—then weapons and armor arose, and contention followed. The common people were suppressed and buried, and the Dao (the Way) of Heaven was obscured; the innocent were killed and the guiltless punished, and all kinds of disasters came about in this way. (Yi means to bury or suppress, referring to the pain of the people’s early death and destruction.)

When Heaven and Earth are harmonious and united, and Yin-Yang molds and transforms, the myriad things all grow by relying on “human Qi.” (The Qi of Heaven and Earth joins to produce living things; Yin-Yang molds and transforms to complete the myriad things.) Therefore, when those above and below are estranged, Qi rises upward as steam (li means disharmony); when ruler and minister are not harmonious, the five grains cannot grow normally (bu wei wu gu means the five grains do not form or are not harvested).

Counting from the winter solstice, for forty-six days, although Heaven contains a harmonious Qi, it has not yet descended and poured into Earth; the myriad things contain and nourish their Qi, but have not yet unfurled (from the beginning of winter to the winter solstice, the Qi mechanism mostly remains still and unissued). Yin-Yang accumulates and waits to move (chuyu describes a state in which things are not yet born, or the appearance of something vast and not yet unfolded), deep and expansive like breathing (jintan means broad and extended), wrapping and fermenting customs and habits together (oufu and yunniang mean to harmonize and ferment), harmonizing the ten thousand differences and reaching all that is fitting (pangbo means nearby and pervasive, causing all things to attain their proper place), thereby completing and nurturing the masses of living beings.

Therefore, spring that resembles killing, autumn that resembles flourishing, thunder in winter, and frost in summer are all produced by “thief Qi” (abnormal Qi that harms the normal order of the seasons). From this we see that Heaven, Earth, and the universe are like the body of a single person (using the body as a metaphor for Heaven and Earth); within the Six Harmonies (Heaven, Earth, and the four directions above and below) it is like the rule of one person (the governance and standards of one person). Thus, for one who is enlightened as to original nature, even Heaven and Earth cannot…

The interlinear notes in the text are mostly old commentaries from the Han and Tang dynasties onward; in this vernacular rendering they have been as far as possible dissolved into the meaning of the sentences and have not been recorded one by one.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The word xie here means “fear.” One who can truly understand and examine “fu” (verification, the verification of the Heavenly Dao) will not be deluded even by all kinds of strange phenomena. (The so-called “strange creatures” are anomalous appearances that ordinary people find hard to distinguish and easy to doubt.)

Therefore the sage can infer the distant from the near and regard the myriad differences as a single whole. (“Shu” means different; “yi” means same.) The people of antiquity shared the same Qi (vital energy) as Heaven and Earth and lived at ease with the people of their age. (“Youyou” means yielding and unhurried.) At that time there were no benefits from congratulations and rewards, no awe of punishments and penalties; ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame did not need to be established; and slander and praise, benevolence and meanness did not need to be distinguished. The myriad people did not encroach on or deceive one another; violence and cruelty still remained within the vast, dark, undifferentiated Dao (the Way). (“Hun” means great; “ming” means deep and dark; “within hunming” refers to the human world before differentiation, still close to the great Dao.)

When it came to the declining age, people were many and goods few; their labor was hard and their sustenance insufficient. Thus angry contention arose, and only then was “benevolence” valued. Benevolence and meanness were not equal; people formed factions and cliques, set traps and used deceit, harbored cunning and opportunistic arts, and their original nature was lost. (“Xu” means calculation and scheming; “loss of nature” means losing the original simple and honest nature.)

Thereupon “righteousness” was also valued: the dispositions of Yin-Yang all possess the sensibilities of blood and Qi; men and women lived together in mixed company without separation, so ritual was needed to distinguish them. (“Ritual” is used to distinguish and regulate.) The feelings of nature and life were unrestrained and pressed against one another; when they could not be at peace, they had no choice but to be harmonized by music. (Music was used to harmonize them.) Therefore benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music can rescue a ruined situation, but they are not the fundamental way to govern the world thoroughly. Benevolence is used to stop contention, righteousness to rescue failure, ritual to rescue excess, and music to rescue sorrow.

When Shenming (spiritual clarity) is settled in the world, the heart can return to its original beginning; when the heart returns to its original beginning, the people’s nature becomes good. (“Chu” means the beginning, before desire, when the original nature is inherently good.) When the people’s nature is good, Heaven, Earth, and Yin-Yang accordingly embrace them; goods are sufficient and people are abundant, and greed, meanness, anger, and contention cannot arise. From this we see that benevolence and righteousness need not be put into action. When Dao and De (Virtue/Power) are settled in the world, the people are simple and honest; the eyes are not confused by colors (“ying” means to confuse and disorder), the ears are not seduced by sounds; they sit and listen to songs and ballads, let down their hair, and wander and indulge—even if there were beauties like Mao Qiang and Xi Shi, they would not be enough to move their hearts.

Note: This passage belongs to Han-dynasty Huainan scholarship’s discussion of “in remote antiquity there were no benevolence, righteousness, ritual, or music, yet the people were naturally harmonious.” It may differ slightly from the main text of the Huainanzi and from later quotations and collations of the Jie; technical terms have been briefly explained according to the old annotations in parentheses.

A Vernacular Reading of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The “knowing” spoken of here means esteeming De (Virtue/Power) and taking delight as the heart’s aim, not wallowing in sensual pleasures. Ancient dances such as Diaoyu and Wuxiang (Diaoyu is danced holding feathers; Wuxiang is a musical dance symbolizing King Wu of Zhou’s achievements)—if one grasps only their form, this is not the same as truly understanding music: the original meaning of music is harmony and union with De, not mere spectacle.

If indulgence has no limit and noble and base are not distinguished, people cannot live well. From this we see that if rites and music are taken as the fundamental means of governing the world, root and branch are inverted—rites and music are branch matters and cannot replace the natural order of life.

Therefore: only when De declines must Ren (benevolence) be proclaimed; only when conduct becomes corrupt must Yi (rightness) be established (“ju” means corrupt or ruined). Only when harmony is lost must tones and pitch be tuned; only when ritual institutions become superficial and ornate must outward appearance and ceremonial adornment be emphasized.

Thus one should first understand Shenming (the spiritual subtlety of Heaven and Earth’s creative transformation), and only then know that relying on the Dao and De alone is still insufficient; understanding the Dao and De, one knows that Ren and Yi are not adequate as ultimate standards of conduct—the Dao and De are the root, Ren and Yi are branches. Understanding Ren and Yi further, one knows that rites and music are even less adequate as the foundation of cultivation—Ren and Yi already belong to the “great principles,” while rites and music are only “minor principles.”

Nowadays people turn their backs on the root and chase the tips, abandon the main outline and spin around in elaborate texts and details; with such people one cannot discuss the ultimate (ultimate De, ultimate Dao).

The greatness of Heaven and Earth can be measured with the ju (a measuring instrument) and the biao (a shadow-marking gnomon used to understand Heaven); the motions of the sun and moon can be calculated by calendrical methods; thunder can be compared to the sound of bells and drums (“xie” means to imitate or give forth sound); changes of wind and rain can be examined through pitch pipes to discern Yin-Yang. Whatever is great and visible, bright and seeable, sounding and audible, colored and observable, seems all to be measurable, distinguishable, and harmonizable.

Yet the “utmost great”—Heaven and Earth—cannot be fully contained; the “utmost subtle”—Shenming—cannot be fully ordered and comprehended (“ling” means to order and govern). Once calendrical calculations are artificially established, the five colors divided, the clear and turbid distinguished (such as clear shang and turbid gong), and the sweet and bitter differentiated, the original Pu (uncarved simplicity, undivided wholeness) scatters into various instruments and things. Once Ren and Yi are established and rites and music are cultivated, De also shifts and changes into falseness (“xiu” means to establish, “qian” means to alter)—not that De disappears, but that De is ornamented into a semblance.

Once false ornamentation arises, cleverness is used to startle the foolish and deceitful schemes to deceive superiors. Yet the world is not without people who can uphold themselves or without those who can govern: among the people of Jie and Zhou there were those who could uphold themselves, and rulers like Tang and Wu were able to govern the world—order and chaos lie in people and government, not in the proliferation of regulations.

Tradition says that when Cangjie created writing, grain rained from Heaven and ghosts wept at night—this precisely says: the more refined the symbols of civilization become, the farther they may drift from the Pu of the Heavenly Dao.

Main idea: This passage criticizes taking rites, music, Ren, and Yi as the foundation of governing the world, and advocates proceeding directly from Shenming and the Dao and De, guarding truth through Pu. Ren, Yi, rites, and music are all remedies and branch matters after De has declined; if one “turns from the root to seek the branch,” one falls into falseness and cannot be discussed in terms of the ultimate Dao.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Vernacular Interpretation

On Writing and “Weeping”

Legend has it that Cangjie (who tradition says first created writing) was first inspired by the tracks of birds and beasts and made writing and contracts. Once writing and contracts existed, forgery and deception began to appear; as forgery and deception became widespread, people abandoned the root and pursued the branch, leaving farming behind to chase the petty profits “of the awl and knife” (referring to tiny gains in commerce and handicrafts). Heaven knew that people would starve because of this, so it sent down a rain of millet (the legend of grain falling from heaven). Ghosts and spirits feared that their forms would be depicted and imitated by writing, so they wept at night. (Some editions write “rabbit” for “ghost”: rabbits feared being plucked for hair to make brushes, harming their bodies, and also wept at night.)

Boyi (the worthy minister who assisted Yu the Great) dug wells, and dragons rose above the dark clouds, while spirits took up residence on Kunlun (the mythic immortal mountain). Boyi assisted Emperor Shun and was the first to dig into the earth to obtain water. Dragons knew that wells would drain rivers, streams, ponds, and pools, and fearing harm, they rose on clouds and departed; the spirits withdrew to dwell in the Kunlun Mountains.

The more techniques multiply, the thinner De (Virtue/Power) becomes. Therefore, when the Zhou people cast their ding (ritual tripod), they had the image of Chui (the skilled craftsman of Yao’s time) bite his own finger, showing that “great skill” must not be exercised recklessly: Chui was a master craftsman of Yao’s era; when the Zhou cast the tripod, they cast Chui’s image on it and made him bite his finger—as if Chui were alive and saw it, he could hardly surpass his former skill and could only bite his finger in self-warning; thus they made clear that great skill must not be practiced again. Another account says: the Zhou cast a tripod with images and engraved Chui’s body on the tripod, making him bite his own finger, to warn later generations against excessive cleverness.

The Governance of the Perfected Person

When the Perfected Person (Zhiren) governs a state, mind and Shen (spirit) become one, and form and nature (innate nature) are harmonized; inwardly still, De fills the body; when moving, he follows principle; he follows natural endowment and responds to change according to the force of the unavoidable. Clear and unobstructed in Wuwei (non-action), the world becomes harmonious of itself; tranquil and without desire, the people become simple of themselves. There are no monstrous anomalies or auspicious prodigies, and the people do not die young; there is no angry contention, and they are self-sufficient in nurturing life. The blessings of De embrace all within the seas and extend to later generations, yet no one knows who has actually done it (the Dao (the Way) is originally nameless and spontaneous, so no one knows “who” it is).

The Nameless and the Meeting of De

Thus in life there is no title, and in death no posthumous name; goods (wealth) are not accumulated, and names are not established (the Dao does not prize names, so names are not established). The giver does not consider himself to be conferring a kindness; he merely supplements what is lacking. The receiver need not make hypocritical refusals—if the receiver merely keeps declining, then the receiving becomes a mere polite formula, not true yielding. De meets and returns to De, and none overfills or hoards it (chong and ren: overflowing, storing, tolerating and not letting go). Therefore, what De governs is unified as one, and the Dao cannot harm it.

Note: The parentheses contain original annotations or variant readings, already integrated into the above; proper names such as Cangjie, Boyi, Kunlun, Chui, and ding are retained with brief explanations.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Gist of the Classic Passage

Argument and the “Wordless Disputation”

If even people of wisdom and strategy cannot make certain matters clear, how could mere tongue-and-lip disputation truly “untie” them? There is a state called the wordless disputation and the unspoken Dao—if someone can penetrate this, it is said that they have entered the Tianfu (the treasury where Heaven stores its goods). There are also those who can understand the wordless disputation and the unspoken Dao and thus enter Heaven’s treasury: drawing from it for use does not diminish it, ladling it out and giving to others does not exhaust it, yet they do not know whence it ultimately issues—this is called Yaoguang.

Yaoguang

Yaoguang is the locus that nourishes and sustains the myriad things. One explanation says: Yaoguang is the seventh star of the handle of the Northern Dipper, revolving from the center, successively pointing to the twelve celestial stations, stirring Yin-Yang into action, and thereby bringing the myriad things to life and death. Another explanation says: Yaoguang is the manifestation of harmonious Qi.

When one relieves the trapped and impoverished and makes up for insufficiency, the name of Ren (benevolence) arises; when one promotes benefits, removes harms, attacks disorder, and restrains violence, the merit of Wu (martiality) is achieved. If there were no calamities in the world, even the Shen (spirits) would have no place to display their De; if those above and below were harmonious, even worthies would have no place to establish their merits.

The Age of Rongcheng Shi

In ancient times, in the age of Rongcheng Shi (Rongcheng was a person under the Yellow Emperor who created calendrical methods), travelers on the road were arrayed like wild geese, with elders and juniors in proper order; infants were entrusted to nests, and surplus grain was left at the edges of the fields; tigers and leopards could be led by the tail, and venomous snakes could be trodden underfoot—people of the time thought this was simply as it should be, hence it is said that “they did not know whence it came to be so” (they did not find it strange but simply took it as natural).

The Time of Yao and Yi’s Removal of Harm

When it came to the time of Yao, ten suns rose together, scorching the grain crops and killing the plants and trees, so the people had no food; the Yayu, Zaochi, Jiuying, Dafeng, Fengxi, Xiushe, and others all harmed the people (Yayu is pronounced with ya as in “che-ya” and yu as in “chu-yu”). Yao then dispatched Yi: in the wilds of Chouhua he executed Zaochi (Zaochi was a beast with teeth three chi long, shaped like chisels, extending down below its jaw; it wielded a spear and shield. Yi was skilled at archery, and Yao sent him to shoot it dead. Chouhua was the name of a marsh in the south); on the Xiong River he killed Jiuying (Jiuying was a monster of water and fire that harmed people; in the land of the Northern Di there was the Xiong River); and in the wilds of Qingqiu he brought down Dafeng with a corded arrow…

(If the following text also includes the shooting of Fengxi, Xiushe, and others, the structure is the same: Yao ordered Yi to remove the harms one by one, so as to restore the people’s peace.)

Note: This passage moves from “disputation cannot unravel what is unknown” to “Tianfu and Yaoguang” nourishing the myriad things, then uses the age of Rongcheng Shi and Yao’s command to Yi to remove harms as a contrast: without calamity, the De of the Shen would not manifest; without harmony, the merits of worthies would not be established. It also describes the calamities of remote antiquity and of Yao’s age; this is a common technique in Huainan scholarship of appealing to antiquity to discuss governance. Proper nouns have been retained according to the original notes in parentheses and briefly explained.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Dafeng (Fengbo, the god who governs the great wind) could blow down people’s houses. Yi, at Qingqiu (a marsh in the east), used rope nets to block it so that it no longer harmed people; one day he shot it dead with an arrow attached to a cord.

Yi also shot the ten suns above (legend says ten suns appeared in the sky at the same time, and Yi shot down nine of them) and below killed Yayu (a vicious beast, said by some to have a dragon’s head and by others to resemble a leopard cat; it ran very fast and ate people, and was in the west). At Dongting (the name of a southern marsh) he cut apart Xiushe (a great snake that could swallow an elephant and only spat out the bones after three years); at Sanglin (the mulberry mountain forest used by King Tang when he prayed for rain) he captured Fengxi (a great boar; in the Chu region pigs were called xi). All the people rejoiced and acclaimed Yao as Son of Heaven. Thus the world was opened wide, and roads and the li-system began to be established across difficult and easy terrain, near and far.

In the time of Shun, Gonggong (the name of a water official, a descendant of Boyou) stirred up the floodwaters, wishing to dam the hundred rivers and raise the lowlands in order to bring harm to the world; the waters pressed as far as Kongsang (a place in the Lu region). Longmen (a Yellow River pass, north of Xiayang in Zuofengyi; tradition says it was opened by Yu) had not yet been opened, and Luliang (rocks in the water at Lü County in Pengcheng; Yu cut them open to make passage, hence the name Luliang) had not yet been dredged. The Yangtze and Huai converged, the four seas were vast and shoreless, and the people all climbed the hills and hid in the trees.

Shun then ordered Yu to guide the Three Rivers and Five Lakes, to open Yique (a mountain name; opened by Yu to connect the Yi River, ninety li southwest of Luoyang), and to dredge the Chan and Jian (the names of two rivers; Chan is pronounced like “chan”), making water and land routes passable so that the waters flowed into the Eastern Sea. The great floodwaters receded, the Nine Provinces dried out, and all the people each found peace in their nature. Therefore people called Yao and Shun sages.

In later ages of decline, Jie and Zhou built the Xuan Chamber, Yao Terrace, Xiang Gallery, and Jade Bed (all extremely luxurious palaces, chambers, terraces, and pavilions)…

(If further terms such as “Qiong Chamber” and “Jade Gate” appear below, they mostly continue the description of Jie and Zhou’s extreme luxury and extravagance; they can be translated in continuation by checking against the original text.)

This passage reveals the profound meaning of Dao (the Way) through contrasting the actions of tyrants and virtuous rulers. King Zhou of Shang adorned his palaces with jade, decorated pillars with ivory, and even used precious jade for his bed, indulging in extreme extravagance. He constructed rotating mechanical chambers and swaying towers, exhausting the people's resources. More brutally, he cut open the heart of loyal minister Bi Gan and dissected pregnant women to observe fetuses.

In stark contrast, King Tang of Shang needed only three hundred chariots to overthrow the tyrant Jie of Xia at Nanchao, and King Wu of Zhou led a mere three thousand soldiers to defeat King Zhou at the Battle of Muye. After peace was restored, the people lived in harmony, which is why later generations praised the wisdom of Tang and Wu. This shows that those revered as sages often endured the hardships of chaotic times.

Those who have truly attained Dao (zhiren, or "perfect persons") live through turbulent eras. Though they possess boundless wisdom, they choose to remain silent and pass away quietly. Sadly, the world fails to value such silent wisdom. As the saying goes: "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name." What is recorded on bamboo scrolls, metal, and stone and passed down through generations is merely the superficial manifestation of Dao. Though the deeds of the Five Emperors and Three Kings differ in detail, they all followed the same great Dao.

Through historical anecdotes, this passage illustrates the Daoist concept that "the great Dao has no name," demonstrating that true wisdom often transcends verbal expression, while what is recorded and transmitted represents only the surface of Dao.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Vernacular Interpretation

“Paths differ, the destination is the same”—this was so for the Five Emperors (Huangdi, Zhuanxu, Diku, Emperor Yao, and Emperor Shun) and the Three Kings (Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, and Wen of Zhou): outwardly their methods differed, but at core they all cultivated benevolence and righteousness.

Later scholars often fail to grasp the whole of Dao (the Way), and also fail to grasp the essential purport of De (Virtue/Power). They pick up only the husk of established methods handed down from former generations: they sit upright and lecture for a while, then beat drums and sing and dance for a while. Thus, even with broad learning and wide information, they cannot avoid confusion. The poem says:

I dare not fight a tiger barehanded,
I dare not ford the river on foot;
People know only one thing,
They do not know the other.

This is exactly what it means. (To fight a tiger without a weapon is called “bao hu,” fighting a tiger barehanded; to cross water without a boat or raft is called “ping he,” fording a river on foot. This is a metaphor: when petty people hold power, one must be reverent and cautious; otherwise the danger is like fighting a tiger barehanded or fording a river on foot, and one will surely die. Everyone knows that barehanded tiger-fighting and river-fording bring immediate disaster, but they know only “the one thing” and do not know that one should also fear and be cautious of petty people and guard against peril and ruin. Hence it says, “no one knows the other”—that one still cannot avoid confusion is precisely the meaning.)

The Emperor takes Taiyi (Supreme Unity) as his substance (modeling Heaven; Taiyi is Heaven’s form-spirit and root); the King models Yin-Yang; the Hegemon follows the Four Seasons; the Lord uses the Six Pitch-Pipes (Liu Lü).

One who grasps Taiyi can encompass and cover Heaven and Earth, press down and subdue mountains and rivers (in Chu pronunciation, “lao” is close to “liu”; he can make mountains and rivers produce clouds and rain, and can also suppress and stop them), inhale and exhale Yin-Yang, stretch and draw the Four Seasons (stretching and drawing, harmonizing), use them to regulate the Eight Extremes and weave the Six Directions, cover with dew and illuminate with guidance, vast and impartial (the first term means great, the second means numerous; without private love or hatred, all emerges from the public). Flying mosquitoes and crawling insects—none does not look up to his De and live.

Yin-Yang receives the harmony of Heaven and Earth, forms the bodies of myriad distinctions, contains Qi (vital energy) and transforms things so as to complete categories and forms (lie means form). Waxing and waning, contracting and expanding, it sinks into the unfathomable (ying means lengthening, suo means shortening; juan means bending, shu means dispersing; lun means entering, ce means deep—entering a depth that cannot be exhausted or fathomed). Ending and beginning, emptiness and fullness, it revolves in the originless (transformation returns to the inexhaustible source and root).

The Four Seasons: spring gives birth, summer grows, autumn harvests, winter stores. What is taken is governed by measure; going out and coming in have their times; opening and closing, expanding and contracting (xi is pronounced like “xie” and refers to sequence) do not lose their order.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Joy and anger, hardness and softness—none of them departs from “principle” (li), which is the Dao. What the six pitch-pipes (liulü) represent is birth and killing, reward and punishment, giving and taking (“zi” is bestowing, “duo” is receiving). If one does not use this framework, there is no way to speak of the art of governing a state; for rulers who govern solely by the four seasons and the six pitch-pipes, if they lack the root described above, there is no other path left to them. Therefore one must carefully employ the weighing balance, the level, and the marking cord, and clearly distinguish light and heavy, before one is sufficient to govern within the borders. (The weighing balance is equipoise; the level is measure; the marking cord is straightness.)

Therefore, one who takes the Great One (Taiyi) as his substance can understand the true conditions of Heaven and Earth, penetrate the order of Dao and De, be as bright and luminous as the sun and moon, have his spirit (Shen) communicate with the ten thousand things, match movement and stillness to Yin-Yang, harmonize joy and anger with the four seasons, bestow virtuous grace beyond distant regions, and transmit his name to later generations. One who models himself on Yin-Yang can have his De join Heaven and Earth as a third (can here means “to be illumined”), his brightness equal the sun and moon, and his Jing unite with ghosts and spirits (zong here means “to unite”). With a round crown and square tread, he embraces the gnomon and holds fast the marking cord—roundness images Heaven, squareness images Earth; the gnomon is correctness, the cord is straightness. Inwardly he can cultivate himself; outwardly he can win people’s hearts. When he issues commands and orders, none under Heaven fails to follow the wind (wind-like transformation). Thus, in the way of the four seasons: soft but not brittle; hard but not broken (gui means “broken”); broad but not lax (si means “excessively slack”; though broad, it does not overstep the measure); solemn but not perverse (su means “urgent”; though urgent, it does not become hasty and perverse); gentle and yielding, compliant and accommodating, in order to nourish the various kinds (lei means “kinds of things”). His De contains the foolish and tolerates the unworthy, with no private affection (private and crooked).

One who employs the six pitch-pipes attacks disorder and restrains violence, advances the worthy and dismisses the unworthy, supports and turns back what is crooked to make it upright (bo means “to employ”; fu means “to govern”), destroys danger to make it level, and corrects the bent to make it straight (jiao means “to correct”; wang means “bent”). He is clear about the ways of prohibiting and releasing, opening and closing, and rides the times and follows the circumstances in order to command people’s hearts. A Di ruler who embodies Yin-Yang will be encroached upon (be invaded and bullied by the various Xia); a Wang ruler who models himself on the four seasons will be pared away (be invaded and reduced by the various Xia).

Classic: Huainan Honglie Jie

The transmitted writings say: feudal lords encroach upon and overstep the king’s laws and measures. If a hegemon recklessly uses the “six pitch standards” (the standards of pitch and sound), he will be humiliated (be treated contemptuously by neighboring states). If a ruler loses the marking line (laws and measures), he will be deposed (removed by his ministers and a worthy set up in his place). Therefore: when one ought to use the Great Dao but instead practices the small way, one will be hollow and insubstantial (taotiao: not full, not thorough; and ministers will not be attached); when one ought to use small measures but takes on a great responsibility, one will be narrow and unable to accommodate (practicing small measures makes one overly rigid and narrow, unable to contain one’s ministers). When noble and base each keep their proper station and do not lose their proper form, the world can be well governed (not losing their proper form: for great matters use the Great Dao; for small matters use small measures).

Heaven treasures its Jing (essence; here, light), Earth treasures its Ping (balance/uprightness), and humans treasure their Qing (disposition/feeling). The Jing of Heaven is the sun, moon, stars, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain; the Ping of Earth is water, fire, metal, wood, and earth; the Qing of humans (the clarity of disposition) is the acuity of thought and the feelings of joy and anger. Therefore, only by blocking the “four gates” and stopping the “five escapes” can one enter together with the Dao (the four gates: ears, eyes, mind, and mouth; escape: dissipation; lun: sinking into and according with).

Thus, when Shenming (spirit and brightness) is hidden in the formless and Jing and Shen return to the utmost Zhen (the true: the original true body), then the eyes are bright and see without relying on external things, the ears are acute and hear without relying on external things, and the mind is orderly and penetrating without relying on deliberation and calculation; one yields and complies without acting recklessly, is harmonious and soft without self-aggrandizement (jin: self-importance), preserves the innate disposition of nature and life, and cleverness and calculating mind cannot mix in (za: mixing).

When Jing penetrates the eyes, sight is bright (xie: penetrating/opening); when it is in the ears, hearing is acute; when it remains in the mouth, speech is appropriate (dang: fitting); when it gathers in the mind, thought is penetrating (ji: stopping and guarding, gathering). Therefore, by closing the four gates, the body has no calamity, and the hundred joints are not diseased (yuan: illness; yuan is pronounced like “wan” in Nanyang), neither dying nor living, neither empty nor full—this is called the Zhenren (True Person) (one who keeps the constant Dao).

Wherever disorder arises, it always lies in “flowing” and “escaping” (flowing away, dissipating); what flowing and escaping generate is the “five” (the five kinds of dissipation referred to below). Greatly constructing palaces and chambers (gou: joined frames; jia: timbers stacked and framed), raising high towers and pavilions, plank roads and flying galleries (yanlou: high towers; zhandao: connected passageways), chicken roosts and well railings (double-roofed houses surrounding well railings), carved flowers decorating wells… (This passage discusses how extravagant architecture invites disorder and calamity and is related to the “five escapes.”)

This passage mainly says: people spend all their minds on "clever ornamentation" in timberwork, water features, and the like, producing extremely intricate artificial landscapes.

In timberwork: wooden components such as bin, biao, bo, and lu are made to support one another; on beams, architraves, eaves, and similar places they make twisting, winding, and carved forms, carving roof ornaments such as coiled dragons, tiger heads, and floating heads ("yan" is pronounced close to "yanran," describing a solemn yet exaggerated image). Then by methods such as yinglou carving and engraving they produce strange patterns, like looping water waves, wandering eddies, yu water, water-caltrop leaves, zhu fruit, and entwined branches and vines—all imitating the movement of water and vegetation. The result is a jumble of colors and a dazzle of luster; cunning and artificial objects press against one another and are piled up in confusion—this is excessive cleverness in "wood" ("dun yu mu": wallowing in the cleverness of woodwork and departing from the original meaning).

In water features: they dig large ponds that are deep and muddy, extending the banks and cliff edges far into the distance; lead water from streams and valleys in, and adorn the winding pond banks; use layered spiral stones and jade for edging, and build curved dikes and qi (waterside places where one may stop). They also build dams to block swift currents ("yu nu" and "lai" refer to rushing water), deliberately stirring up wave crests; they make the watercourses turn and loop, imitating the landscape of Panyu and Cangwu, regions with many waters and rivers ("yu" and "wu" refer to those watery lands). They also plant lotus, ling, and ji in the water so as to raise turtles and fish; on the banks there are hong, hu, su, and shuang birds, and rice and millet are abundant—thus food and drink and birds are all brought into this artificial "mountains-and-waters" scheme.

Overall meaning: the scripture (jing) and its commentary criticize this: instead of relying on simplicity and naturalness, people use clever woodwork and clever waterworks to pile up a scene full of carving, ripples, fake mountains and waters, and fake rushing waves; ornamentation is excessive and contrary to the Dao or to the essentials of governance. The notes in parentheses mostly explain pronunciations (such as "tang is read as chang," "yu is read as yu") and terms (coiled dragons, roof ornaments, Panyu as a watery country, etc.), helping readers understand these architectural and garden terms.

A Vernacular Reading of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The yan is a water bird; one account says it belongs to the same kind as the phoenix. The yi is a large bird, often painted on the prow of boats, hence the term “yi prow.”

They build large boats and carve dragon patterns as decoration; on the prow they paint the image of the yi bird, calling it the “yi prow.” On board they play the sheng and the yu to make music, which is called “floating and blowing for amusement.” This is to make the mind flee entirely into amusement on the water.

They build high city walls and establish strategic passes; they pile up earth to raise high terraces and add wooden structures on top to make pavilions. A terrace made by piling earth to a height of one zhang is called a tai; adding a wooden structure on top makes it a xie. They expand parks and hunting preserves—walled gardens and unwalled hunting grounds—to an enormous size, wanting to take in every wondrous scene and marvelous sight. Palace gate towers and watchtowers rise high as if touching the blue clouds; great buildings are raised layer upon layer, almost comparable to Kunlun. They repair walls and connect them with covered walkways, flying galleries, and double-decker passages. Some say yong is pronounced like “to leap,” so yongdao means a “leaping way”; dao means a laid-out road, a thoroughfare. They cut down heights and fill in lows, piling earth to make mountains. Roads stretch far away; straight routes cut through dangerous terrain and level difficult places. All day long carriages and horses gallop, yet one need not worry about a misstep. This is fleeing into earthly engineering and pleasure rides.

Large bells and large cauldrons are weighty ritual vessels of the ancestral temple. On the vessels are carved patterns such as mountain dragons, flowery birds, aquatic plants, fire, and powdered rice, openwork-carved and intertwined with one another—mou means “intertwined.” There are crouching rhinoceroses and tigers, and coiled dragon patterns linked in a chain like woven cords. The luster is intermixed and dazzlingly brilliant. The twisting lines are carved into ornamental patterns; forged tin and other materials are used to make decorated nao bells, which are now dim, now bright. This is fleeing the mind into the splendor and carving of objects.

Note, to help make the whole passage readable: The parentheses contain old annotations explaining the meanings of words, such as dragon boat, yi prow, Wei Que, and yongdao. The general meaning of the main text is this: from dragon-boat water play, high terraces, and parks, to bell and cauldron ornaments, it describes layer by layer how people use external things to divert themselves and “escape” their spirit into pleasure and contrivance. This is consistent with the theme of “escape” often written of in the Huainanzi—being submerged in water, earth, and objects.

These passages discuss the ancient appreciation of swords and the principle that excessive consumption of natural resources invites disaster.

On the appreciation of swords: Polishing a sword with tin is like stringing pearls into a necklace, yet the patterns on the blade appear jumbled. Though the blade is small, its patterns are deep and restrained like frost. They are like bamboo mats and reed mats, whose interlaced textures set off the extraordinary lines on the blade. The patterns on the sword coil like brocade and resemble woven designs, sparse yet precise as if by the arts of calculation. These patterns gleam with metallic luster and dazzle the eye; this is the sword’s “Metal” nature.

On excessive consumption: In pursuit of delicacies from Jingchu and Wu, people roast and boil extravagantly, exhausting every sour and salty seasoning. For hunting, people burn forests, fell great trees, and use bellows to blow fires for melting copper and iron. The trees in the mountains are cut bare, leaving no tall trunks or branches, and the zhe and zi trees in the forests are gathered to exhaustion. Plants and trees are burned into charcoal, wild grasses into ash, and the withered grass in the fields is burned before its season arrives. Thus above it obscures the light of Heaven and below it exhausts the wealth of Earth; this is to deviate from the Dao of Fire.

These five are enough to ruin the world: Of these five behaviors—excessive pursuit of delicacies, burning mountains and forests, felling trees, making charcoal and ash, and burning wild grass early—any one alone is enough to bring ruin to the world.

The ancient Mingtang system: In the construction of the ancient Mingtang, dampness from below did not seep in, fog and dew from above did not leak through, and winds from the four directions could not blow inside. The Mingtang was where the ruler issued government orders; it was round above and square below. On all four sides of the main hall were left and right side chambers called ge, twelve in total. Each month the ruler resided in the corresponding chamber and promulgated decrees; this was called the Mingtang. Within it ancestral tablets could be arranged, and it was called the Ancestral Temple (Taimiao); above, celestial phenomena could be observed, and it was called the Numinous Terrace (Lingtai). Outside it was circular like the Biyong; the system for the feudal lords was half that of the Son of Heaven, and it was called the Gong. The Book of Songs says, “The vigorous Marquis of Lu is at the Pan waters,” referring to Duke Xian.

In summary: Through the appreciation of swords and the construction of the Mingtang, the passage explains that one must accord with nature and must not excessively consume resources; otherwise it will lead to the ruin of the world. Though the patterns on a sword are beautiful, excessive pursuit of them will instead cause one to lose the essence; only when the construction of the Mingtang accords with nature can it endure.

Vernacular Explanation

Earthworks need not be embellished (earthwork is based on plainness), and woodwork need not be finely carved (one simply follows the original form of the wood, or only hews it without painting it). Metal vessels are not engraved with patterns (no inlaid engraving or carved ornament). Clothing is not cut with slanting corners or trimmed away (“corner” refers to the corners of a garment; “cha” and “xue” refer to bias cutting and reducing material). In ancient times, cloth was mostly full-width bolts; when made into garments, there were no slanting corners or cut-down patterns.

Caps and ceremonial crowns are not made with the elaborate “Guying” structure (like the interlocking pattern of horse-eye cages; crown ornaments should only be flat, straight, and plain. “Ying” is pronounced as in the expression for the tip of a finger). Halls and chambers must be large enough to accommodate ascending and descending, bowing and yielding, and the cultivation of ritual demeanor; hence it is called “zhouxuan” (ritual circulation). “Liwen” means administering affairs and documents. The interior of the hall is clean and solemn, sufficient for sacrificing to God on High, revering ghosts and spirits, and demonstrating frugality to the people.

As for sounds and colors, the five flavors, rare treasures from distant regions, and wondrous and strange objects—those sufficient to alter the mind, unsettle the spirit, and disturb the blood and Qi—they are countless. The goods produced by Heaven and Earth fundamentally do not go beyond “five” (they do not exceed the number of the Five Phases [Wuxing]). The sage regulates the Five Phases, and so government and teaching do not fall into disorder. (The Five Phases: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—water belongs to the yin phase, fire is the yang phase, wood governs warmth, metal governs cold, and earth governs the movement of wind; the five Qi constantly circulate, hence the name Five Phases.)

In human nature: when the heart is peaceful and obtains what it desires, there is joy; joy leads to movement; movement leads to stepping; stepping leads to swaying; swaying leads to singing; singing leads to dancing. If singing and dancing lose measure and restraint, even birds and beasts will follow and leap about wildly.

In human nature: when the heart has worry or bereavement, there is sorrow (worry refers to hardship; bereavement refers to the loss of what one loves); sorrow leads to grief; grief leads to indignation; indignation leads to anger; anger leads to movement; movement leads to restlessness of the hands and feet (inability to be still; as in beating the breast and stamping the feet while weeping at a funeral).

In human nature: when one is encroached upon, there is anger; anger causes blood and Qi to become full (when seeking revenge, blood and Qi surge upward); when blood is full, Qi becomes abundant… (The following continues the original text’s discussion of the momentum of anger and blood and Qi.)

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

When Qi is stirred, one easily becomes angry; only after becoming angry can one release the resentment accumulated in the heart.

Thus bells and drums, pipes and flutes, shields and axes, feather banners, and the like were used to accompany and express joy; mourning garments, the juzhang (a mourning staff made of seeded hemp), and weeping and leaping in rhythm were used to accompany and express grief; weapons, feather banners, gongs and drums, and axes and halberds were used to accompany and express anger. Only when genuine feeling exists within does one need these external rituals and objects.

In ancient times, when sage kings were on the throne, government and education were harmonious, benevolence spread widely, high and low shared one heart, rulers and ministers were on good terms, clothing and food were in surplus, every household was prosperous, fathers were loving, children filial, elder brothers kind, and younger brothers respectful. The living bore no resentment, and the dead left no regrets. All under Heaven was harmonious, everyone achieved what they wished, and the people were joyful within but had no outlet to express or display it. Therefore the sages instituted rites and music to harmonize and regulate such feelings.

In the declining age, taxes on fields and hunting were heavy, levies at passes and markets were pressed with great urgency, lakes, marshes, and fish weirs were all closed off, fishing nets had nowhere to be cast, and farming tools had nowhere to be used. The people’s strength was exhausted in corvée labor, and their wealth was exhausted in taxes (assessed and collected according to household registration). Those at home had no food, those traveling had no grain to bring, the elderly had no one to support them, the dead had no one to bury them, and some sold wives and children to meet the demands of the government, yet still it was not enough. Foolish men and fierce women (“chun” sounds close to “zhu,” meaning stubborn and ferocious) all harbored thoughts of displacement and grief-stricken aspirations. Only then did some strike the great bells, beat the resounding drums, blow the yu and sheng, and pluck the qin and se—but they had already lost the original meaning of music.

In ancient times, the ruler sought little, and the people’s needs were self-sufficient; the ruler bestowed De (Virtue/Power), ministers exhausted their loyalty, fathers acted with kindness, and children fulfilled filial piety, each fully expressing feelings of familial love, without any heart of grief and bitterness.

Resentment Therein: There is no resentment; each person obtains what he wishes.

When it comes to the three years’ mourning, it is not something achieved by external force (not something forced out of him; rather, the feelings of a filial son arise naturally from within). He does not feel joy on hearing music, cannot taste what he eats, and cannot cut off his feelings of longing (during the three years, grief and remembrance are hard to sever from sorrow).

In later ages, however, the temper of the age was frivolous and customs were corrupt; appetites and desires overflowed while ritual and righteousness fell into decay. Rulers and ministers deceived one another, fathers and sons suspected and resented one another, grievances and reproaches filled their breasts, and loyal, filial, and longing feelings were wholly lost. They drape themselves in the cui (mourning garment) and wear the die (the hemp cloth on the mourning coiffure), yet laugh and sport during mourning; even if they barely drag it out for the full three years, they have lost the root of mourning rites (the root lies in inner grief).

In ancient times, the Son of Heaven governed one ji (a royal domain a thousand li square), and the feudal lords governed one tong (a territory a hundred li square). Each kept within his own boundaries and was not to encroach on another (fen means boundary). If there was someone who did not practice the kingly way, who tyrannized the myriad people, fought for land and encroached on borders, disrupted government and violated prohibitions—if summoned he did not come, if ordered he did not obey (the word ling here is the ling of “issuing orders”), if prohibited he did not stop, and if instructed he did not change (hui means to instruct; bian means to change course)—only then did they raise troops to punish him. They executed his ruler, replaced his partisans, repaired his tomb, and sacrificed at his altar of soil according to the lei rite (when a worthy man has been executed by an evil ruler, they mound and tend his grave, as when King Wu attacked the Shang tyrant Zhou and mounded Bi Gan’s grave; sacrificing at the altar of soil is called lei, offering sacrifice according to the category of the affair. The Ode says, “This is lei, this is ma”). They divined to choose and install a worthy and capable one among his descendants to take his place (the Son of Heaven does not extinguish a state, and the feudal lords do not extinguish a surname; this was the ancient rule).

But in later ages they single-mindedly expanded territory, encroached on borders, and annexed without cease. They raised unjust armies and attacked guiltless states, killed innocent people, and cut off the posterity of former sages (gu means guilt; since the people are all descendants of emperors and kings, this is called cutting off the posterity of former sages). Great states sent out troops to attack small states, while small cities defended to the death; they seized people’s cattle and horses, bound their sons and daughters (xi means to confine or imprison; xi is pronounced close to ji), destroyed their ancestral temples, and carried off their precious treasures. Blood flowed for a thousand li, and bones lay exposed over the fields—all merely to satisfy the desires of greedy rulers. This is not what arms are meant to do (arms were originally established to prohibit violence and rectify disorder).

Vernacular Interpretation

War is not for creating disorder. Therefore, the use of arms is to suppress violent rebellion, not to commit violence. (Explanation: the military is meant to deal with others’ violent disorder, not to create disorder oneself.)

Music is for bringing about harmony, not for indulging in license and excess. (Music can cleanse away evil thoughts, preserve and nurture the proper nature, and lead people back to balance and harmony; it is not meant to let people wallow in pleasure and overstep norms in reckless conduct.)

Mourning rites are for fully expressing grief, not for putting on an appearance. (Forms of mourning such as weeping and leaping are meant to express the genuine sorrow of a filial child, not for deceit or feigned grief.)

Therefore, in serving one’s parents there are rules, but love is the root (filial piety values loving respect for parents); at court there are ceremonial forms, but respect is paramount (the court emphasizes dignified bearing, and between ruler and minister respect is primary, so respect comes first); in mourning there are ritual regulations, but grief is the main thing (in mourning one observes the three-year rite; the Analects says that in mourning, rather than being merely proper in ritual, it is better to grieve, so the emphasis is on the feeling of sorrow); in the use of arms there are methods, but righteousness is the root (methods refer to techniques such as Yin-Yang, celestial timing, and empty and solid. The Zuo Commentary says Heaven produces the five materials of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, and the people all use them; none can be discarded. Who can abolish war? War has existed for a long time; sages used it to promote benefit, while disorderly people used it to bring ruin. It is the great way of rise and fall, survival and destruction, darkness and brightness, so righteousness must be made the root.)

Only when the root is firmly established can the Dao be practiced; when the root is damaged, the Dao is abandoned. (The root is “righteousness”; when righteousness is established, the Dao is practiced; when righteousness is lost, the Dao is abandoned.)