《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 20

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 19, “Fanlun Xun” (Treatise on Broad Discussions), Part One: A Vernacular Interpretation

Recorded by Xu Shen, Libationer to the Grand Commandant

This chapter takes “Fanlun” as its title: it uses broad and extensive discussion to speak of the gains and losses of past and present in the world, taking the Dao as its destination; its great essentials return to the One, and therefore it is called Fanlun, and the chapter title is established on this basis.

In ancient times there was someone who wore a hood and a leather garment with the collar folded back and sewn, and in this way governed the world. (“Ancient times” mostly refers to before the Three Sovereigns. The hood is a helmet-like cap, indicating that they still did not know how to make crowns and ceremonial caps; another explanation says that “mou” refers to loose hair, and “quanling” merely means wrapping the collar around the neck, with no ornamentation at all.)

At that time, De (Virtue/Power) arose naturally and they did not suffer humiliation (no instruments of punishment were used); they gave without plundering (giving but not taking, not levying exorbitant taxes on the people). The people of the world did not ridicule their clothing and adornment, but with one heart turned toward their De (“fei” means to ridicule and scold; “huai” means to turn toward).

At that time, Yin-Yang were harmonious and balanced, wind and rain came on time, and the myriad things multiplied (government did not tyrannize the living, and few died young). The nests of crows and magpies could be reached by bending over, and birds and beasts could be led along (“cong” means to pull or lead). Why was it necessary to have wide robes and large belts, curved collars and hanging sleeves, and to wear the Zhangfu cap? (“Baoyi” refers to garments with square collars, like the left-lapel garments of later officials; “bodai” is a broad waist sash; the Poetry Classic has “hanging belt like a whetstone”; “quling” means a curved-collar wide-sleeved garment; “wei” is the appearance of a cap, and Zhangfu is also the name of a cap.)

The ancients mostly lived by the water and dwelt in caves. (“Ze chu” means living near water; “fu xue” means layered caves, and one explanation says they dug caves as dwellings in broken embankments and cliffs.) In winter they could not endure frost and snow, in summer they could not endure heat, and they were also bitten by mosquitoes and gadflies. (“Hunmeng” is pronounced like the Poetry Classic’s “yan lai qi ...”, referring to small insects of the mosquito kind.)

Thereupon the sages arose (“zuo” means to arise), piled up earth and framed wood to build palaces and houses (“gou” means to frame, referring to wood and stone framed together to make a house), set up ridge beams above and made eaves hang down below, to block wind and shield from rain (the ridge beam is the roof ridge, the eaves are the hanging roof edges), to avoid cold and heat, and the common people were able to dwell in peace.

When Boyu first made clothing (Boyu was a minister of the Yellow Emperor; the Shiben says Boyu made upper and lower garments; another explanation says Boyu was the Yellow Emperor), he spun hemp and twisted thread, using his hands to lay the warp and his fingers to pass the weft...

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

They hung up the harvest, just as with net cord (tian: the fine cord used for making nets; tian sounds close to the tian of tianran, “calm”). Later people also made the loom and shuttle (jizhu: weaving loom and shuttle), and the cloth woven was more suitable than repeated hand weaving, so the common people could cover their bodies and keep out the cold.

In ancient times they sharpened the si (plowshare) to till the soil and polished the shen (large clam shell) as a hoe to weed. They used a wooden gou (sickle; in Jiyin gou was pronounced like ju, and in Juyang also like ju) to cut firewood, and they held a zhui (small earthenware jar; in Yanzhou called a small zhui, in Youzhou called a wa) to draw water. The people toiled and gained little, so later generations made the leisi (plow implements), the you (a farm tool for breaking up clods, pronounced “you”), hoes, and handled axes for cutting firewood, and used the jiegao (a lever-style water-drawing device) to draw water; people were relieved and their benefits increased.

In ancient times, great rivers and deep valleys cut across the roads, so travel was blocked. They therefore hollowed out trees and joined planks to make boats and ships (yu means hollow; fang means joining together; linked boats were called hang), and only then could regions with and without goods transport to one another (exporting what they had and importing what they lacked). They also made zujue (zusa, that is, shoes; because they did not have to carry loads on shoulder or back) so that they could travel a thousand li without exhaustion. Wild beasts harmed people and could not be stopped, so they cast metal and forged iron to make weapons, and then the beasts could not harm people (with weapons for defense, they could not injure them).

Therefore, when people are pressed by difficulties they seek convenience; when beset by calamity they create defenses; each person, according to what he knows, avoids harm and pursues benefit. “The constant old ways cannot be followed; implements cannot be kept unchanged” (constant laws cannot be followed wholesale, and tools cannot remain forever as before; what should be changed at the time must be changed, hence it says “cannot”). Thus even the laws and regulations of the former kings had things that could be altered.

In ancient wedding rites, one did not directly call the parties concerned by their own names (the marrying parties were not addressed by their personal names; instead, fathers, elder brothers, teachers, and friends were named). Shun married without informing his parents, and according to ritual this was wrong.

Vernacular Explanation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Yao knew that Shun was worthy and gave him his two daughters in marriage. Shun did not first inform his father, Gusou; his father was stubborn by nature and often wanted to kill Shun. Shun understood that if he informed his father, he would not receive permission and could not marry. Among acts of unfilial conduct, none is more serious than lacking descendants; therefore he chose not to inform him and to marry.

Mencius said: Shun did not inform his parents, but it was as if he had informed them; this was permissible.

In establishing an heir, the elder should be chosen. King Wen of Zhou set aside his eldest son, Boyikao, and installed his second son, King Wu. This was not according to fixed ritual but was a matter of expediency. Ritual prescribes that a man marry at thirty—“marry at thirty”—because when Yin-Yang had not yet fully divided, both male and female were born in the Zi year.

For men, counting leftward through the Earthly Branches from Zi, thirty years land on Si; for women, counting rightward from Zi, twenty years also land on Si; thus husband and wife are matched. The sage therefore established ritual norms: men marry at thirty, women at twenty.

For men, counting leftward from Si, after ten steps one reaches the Yin branch; therefore a person is born in the tenth month at Yin, and the count of a man’s years begins from Yin. For women, counting rightward from Si, one reaches the Shen branch; likewise, one is born in the tenth month at Shen, and the count of a woman’s years begins from Shen. Boyikao was King Wu’s elder brother; that the elder was set aside and the younger installed was the sage’s expedient of substituting a son by a secondary wife for the legitimate heir, not a regular rule.

King Wen fathered King Wu at fifteen, which did not conform to regular norms. Suixing (Jupiter) makes one circuit of the heavens in twelve years; the Dao of Heaven takes twelve as complete. Therefore a ruler underwent the capping ceremony at twelve, married immediately after capping, and had a son at fifteen, in order to give weight to the ancestral temple and the state’s succession; since there could be no delay, such a system came to exist. (The preceding statement refers to the appropriateness of matters such as Boyikao’s taking a wife.)

The Xiahou clan laid the coffin in state on the eastern steps (the zuo steps). (According to ritual: the placing of rice and jade in the mouth took place beneath the window; the minor dressing, inside the door; the major dressing, on the zuo steps. While on the bed, the deceased is called shi; once placed in the coffin, it is called jiu. The coffin was laid in state at the guest position; the ancestral farewell sacrifice was in the courtyard; burial was at the grave. Being on the zuo steps still meant the host’s position; they could not bear to send him off afar with the rites for a guest.)

The Yin people laid the coffin in state between the two pillars. (A ying is a pillar. The Liji says that the Yin people laid the coffin in state between the two pillars in the hall, with host and guest viewing it together.)

The Zhou people laid the coffin in state on the western steps. (Probably they sent him off with the rites for a guest.)

These are the differences in the funeral rites of the various dynasties.

The Youyu clan used tile coffins. (The Youyu clan is the era of Shun. A tile coffin is one made of pottery tiles.)

The Xiahou clan used qinzhou. (The Xiahou clan is the age of Yu; there were no inner and outer coffins. They used tiles as coffins, two chi wide and four chi long, stacked up with the body on its side.)

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Burial Systems Differ by Dynasty

Covering the dead with earth was the burial practice of the Xia dynasty; the Yin people used an outer coffin (a thick outer coffin of cypress wood matched to the inner coffin); the Zhou people built walls in the grave pit and installed the “sha” (funeral fan)—these are the differences in burial rites. Since the Zhou used both inner and outer coffins, they placed the sha in the tomb passage or on the bier carriage; it was shaped like the ceremonial fans of today, painted with patterns, and inserted into the carriage box as decoration. The distinctions of high and low status and the number of such fans were determined by noble rank and ceremonial entitlement.

Sacrificial Times Differ by Dynasty

The Xia Hou clan sacrificed in darkness (indoors, at midnight); the Yin sacrificed at the “yang” hour (in the hall, shortly after daybreak); the Zhou performed the morning sacrifice in the courtyard at sunrise (sacrificing in the courtyard after sunrise; “chao” means the courtyard). These too are differences in sacrificial practice.

Names of Music Differ by King

Yao used the “Dazhang”; Shun used the “Jiushao” (this is what the Book [of Documents] calls “the Xiao Shao in nine movements”); Yu used the “Daxia”; Tang used the “Dahu”; and King Wu of Zhou used the “Xiang.” The music system likewise differed from dynasty to dynasty.

The Five Emperors practiced the Dao (the Way) differently, yet their De (Virtue/Power) was sufficient to cover all under Heaven; the Three Kings’ governance differed, yet their reputations were transmitted to later generations. In all cases they reformed ritual and music according to the times. It is like Shi Kuang tuning the bridges of a se zither: though he moved them up and down without inch or foot markings, every note struck the correct pitch. Therefore one who understands the essential nature of ritual and music has a foundation for making music: it is rooted in the inner mind, and one can also use wisdom to measure squareness and standards (“ju” means squareness; “huo” means measure and norm).

Ritual May Arise from Feeling and Be Abolished through Disorder

Duke Zhao of Lu had a “loving mother” (a woman designated by his father to raise him; her status was roughly that of a grand officer’s concubine or a knight’s wife, and ritual calls her a “nümu”; according to regulation, mourning for her was three months of sima, but Duke Zhao wore a lian cap to express exceptional grief—this is the occasion recorded in the Li from which [the rule] arose).

The Marquis of Yang killed the Marquis of Liao and seized his wife (the Marquis of Yang was the ruler of Yangling; the Marquis of Liao was a descendant of Gao Yao and ruler of a Yan-surname state in the area of present-day Lujiang. In the ancient grand xiang banquet, the ruler held the cup and his wife held the dou vessel; when the Marquis of Yang saw the beauty of the Marquis of Liao’s wife, he killed the Marquis of Liao and married her, and so the ceremonial section in which the wife attended the xiang banquet was abolished—this is the allusion to ritual being abolished).

If the institutions of the former kings are not suitable for the present, they may be abolished.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Vernacular Interpretation

Good things in the world are recorded, and so ritual and music never had fixed, unchanging rules from the outset. The sage establishes ritual and music but is not bound by them. Governing a state requires a constant Dao, whose root lies in benefiting the people; decrees and moral instruction require standards, and the most important thing is that orders are carried out and prohibitions are enforced. So long as something benefits the people, one need not rigidly adhere to ancient methods; so long as something fits reality, one need not stubbornly cling to old institutions. The decline of the Xia and Shang came about because they refused to change their laws and thus perished; the rise of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou did not come simply from inheriting earlier practices and thereby becoming dominant. Therefore the sage’s laws change with the times, ritual institutions change with customs, clothing and implements are each suited to their use, and laws and institutions each accord with what is appropriate to the age. Thus reforming ancient laws is not necessarily blameworthy, and blindly following custom is not necessarily praiseworthy.

The hundred rivers have different sources, yet all flow into the sea; the hundred schools have different doctrines, yet all take governing the state as essential. When the kingly Dao was absent, the Odes appeared; when the Zhou royal house declined and ritual righteousness decayed, the Spring and Autumn appeared. The Odes and the Spring and Autumn are both works of a declining age. How can the Confucians’ use of them to teach the world compare with the flourishing of the Three Dynasties? To exalt the Odes and the Spring and Autumn as an unchanging orthodox Dao is to overlook that the time before these works were composed was precisely a time when the Dao was lost; it would be better to comprehend the whole context. Reciting the poems and documents of the former kings is not as good as personally hearing their words; personally hearing their words is not as good as grasping the meaning beyond them. Yet one who grasps the original intent of what was said is, on the contrary, unable to express it in words. Thus the Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal, unchanging Dao (the constant Dao is deeply hidden and subtle, and cannot be spoken).

(The words of the sage are subtle and difficult to express fully.)

When Duke of Zhou served King Wen, he did not act arbitrarily or make decisions on his own in any matter; he first sought King Wen’s instructions and only acted after receiving approval. His frame was thin and weak, as if he could not fill out his clothes; he spoke cautiously, as if finding it hard to open his mouth; he served King Wen with reverence and deference, humble and compliant, as though unable to bear the burden and fearful of erring—one could say he fully fulfilled the way of a filial son.

After King Wu died, King Cheng was young. Duke of Zhou inherited King Wen’s foundation, ascended the position of Son of Heaven (“ji” refers to maps and registers, the imperial seal, and also the throne), and took charge of the government of the realm. He pacified the rebellion of the Yi and Di and executed Guan Shu and Cai Shu for their crimes (Guan Shu and Cai Shu were Duke of Zhou’s elder brothers, who had supervised the Yin remnant and aided Lu Fu, son of King Zhou of Shang, spreading rumors in an attempt to disrupt the Zhou house; Duke of Zhou executed them for the sake of the state, which is what is meant by “placing great righteousness above family ties”). With his back to the screen, he faced south and held court with the feudal lords; punishments and rewards, decisions and judgments all issued from his own will, and he need not consult others again. His majesty shook heaven and earth, his fame overawed the four seas—one could say he could carry out martial affairs and stabilize the realm.

When King Cheng grew to adulthood, Duke of Zhou handed over the maps and registers and returned the government; facing north toward King Cheng, he performed the rites of a subject, presented tokens of submission, and served him. In all matters he first requested orders and then acted, first reported and then handled them; he had no heart to usurp power or indulge himself, no expression of boasting of merits or self-importance—one could say he fully fulfilled the way of a subject.

Thus the same man could change his conduct three times, precisely in order to accord with the times. Moreover, rulers are frequently replaced, generations change, and lords often shift; people often use their position to extend their likes and dislikes and their power to satisfy their cravings. Yet to try to meet ever-changing times with a single fixed set of rites and an unchanging legal system—that cannot be done.

Vernacular Explanation

The principle of zhongquan (the Mean in expedient adaptation) is in fact quite clear: rigidly clinging to one format of ritual conduct is not a ritual that can respond to circumstances; an unchanging set of legal statutes is not a law that can suit the times. Thus, if one only copies fixed routines, one cannot achieve zhongquan—grasping the Mean amid change, with the measure exactly right.

The meaning of quan is to adapt to circumstances: as affairs change, responses adjust, without deviating from the right Way. Therefore what the sage follows is called the Dao, and what he concretely does is called affairs. The Dao is like the sound of bells and chimes: its fundamental pitch is stable, and once tuned it is not easily changed. Affairs are like the qin and se zithers: their strings have slack and tension, advance and retreat, and each string must be retuned. Hence laws and institutions, ritual propriety and righteousness, are tools for governing people—not governance itself. It is like the bow and arrow being tools for shooting: they cannot guarantee a hit; whether one hits or misses still depends on the person using them.

Take ren as the warp and yi as the weft: this is the guiding order that does not change for ten thousand generations. As for an individual, one must assess how much ability one has and constantly reflect on how it should be used; concrete methods may be adjusted daily. But the master principle of ren and yi cannot be changed at random with every fashion, and so it is said to be “not altered for ten thousand generations.” How could there be a single unchanging constant law for all under Heaven? It must, in the given time and place, accord with the nature of affairs and with human feeling, follow Heaven and Earth, and not contravene what ghosts and spirits honor; only then is governance correct.

In ancient times people were sincere and generous, artisans were solid, merchants were plain, and women were dignified, so government and instruction were easy to carry out, and customs were easy to transform. Now virtue has declined further and customs have grown thinner, yet one wishes to use those old methods—plain, weighty, and strict—to govern people already corrupted. It is like refusing to give a spirited horse a bit, bridle, and whip while forcing it to be driven: one will only lose control.

In former times Shennong had no written laws, yet the people were willing to obey; the same was true in the eras of Tang Yao and Yu Shun. Thus governance does not lie in the number of statutes, but in whether one can zhongquan according to the times without losing the root of ren and yi.

Those who die will surely become those whom I cut down—those who seek private gain, delight in weapons, and slaughter the people who determine the safety and danger of the world.

(To harm means to injure; to cut off means to sever; “people” refers to people; “delight in weapons” means to love arms; “delight in killing” means to love slaughter; “wish thereby to pacify the world” means to want by this means to settle the realm; “danger” means peril; D is suspected to be a missing character.)

When the king heard these words he was very pleased and asked, “How was this obtained?”

The Daoist (referring to a fangshi or Daoist practitioner) said, “I sacrificed to the spirits at Yanzhi above the clouds (Yanzhi is the name of a mountain in the west; Mount Yanzhi is high, above the clouds), according to the Way of the Queen Mother (Wangmu, referring to the most refined essence of the Great Dao, that is, the most subtle principle of the Great Dao).

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Yu brought the Youmiao to submission between the steps, relying on virtue to transform them and on a pacifying, conciliatory approach. Yet those who win through military campaigns cannot, like Shun, lay down arms and subdue violence—from this we see that laws and standards are meant to guide customs and regulate what should be relaxed or urgent; implements and instruments must adapt to changing circumstances and suit local conditions.

When sages establish laws, the ten thousand things follow them; when worthies establish rites, the unworthy are restrained by them. Someone who only knows how to keep the law cannot be sent far away to handle great affairs; someone bound by rites cannot respond to emergencies. One who cannot distinguish clear from muddy cannot be put in charge of tuning notes; one who cannot understand the root of order and disorder cannot be allowed to make laws. Only one with uniquely acute hearing and uniquely clear sight can single-mindedly practice the Dao and righteousness and put them into action.

The Yin changed the Xia rites, the Zhou changed the Yin rites, and in the Spring and Autumn period the Zhou rites were changed again—the ritual systems of the Three Dynasties were all different, so why must one follow antiquity exclusively? Great men create institutions, and disciples follow along; only by knowing where law and governance come from can one change with the times. If one does not know their source, then even if one guards ancient methods to the death, one will in the end disrupt government. Today statutes, orders, and records change with the age, and ritual righteousness changes with customs, yet scholars still carry on the old legacy, cling to texts and keep to the old, believing that without this there can be no governance—this is like using a square tenon to fit a round mortise and expecting it to fit securely: it is far too difficult.

Today’s Confucians and Mohists praise the Dao of Wen and Wu of the Three Dynasties but do not practice it; they only talk about it. They do not adapt to the present age and yet refuse to change, doing exactly what they themselves deny. They say one thing and do another; they ponder all day but bring no benefit to governance; they wear out their bodies and waste their intelligence but are of no help to the ruler.

Painters love to paint ghosts and spirits and do not love to paint dogs and horses; why? Ghosts and spirits do not often appear, while dogs and horses are seen every day. Preserving what is in danger and ordering what is in chaos cannot be done without wisdom, yet if one merely flaunts ancient methods, even fools have strength to spare for showing off. Therefore the sage king does not carry out laws that no longer apply, nor does he listen to words that have not been tested.

Of the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth, none is greater than harmony—only harmony can generate the ten thousand things. Harmony means that Yin-Yang are balanced and day and night are differentiated; thus the ten thousand things are transformed and brought forth.

It is born at the spring equinox and completed at the autumn equinox; both birth and completion depend on the essence of harmony—Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Thus the sage’s Dao is broad yet orderly, strict yet mild, soft yet upright, fierce yet benevolent—meaning that hardness and softness, leniency and severity, must work together. Too hard, and it breaks; too soft, and it curls. The sage stands precisely between hardness and softness, and only then does he grasp the root of the Dao. When Yin accumulates, it sinks; when Yang accumulates, it flies; only when Yin-Yang meet is harmony achieved.

As a measure, the cord can be rolled up or extended; pulled straight, it can serve as a plumb line. The sage puts this into practice in his own person. Long without becoming obstructive, short without becoming exhausted, straight without being rigid, enduring without being forgotten—perhaps only the cord is like this. Therefore, when benevolence is pushed too far, it becomes cowardice, and cowardice lacks authority; when strictness is pushed too far, it becomes fierceness, and fierceness lacks harmony; when love is pushed too far, it becomes indulgence, and indulgence leads to disobedience; when punishment is pushed too far, it becomes cruelty, and cruelty leaves no one close—when one is cruel and harmful to others, people do not draw near.

In the past, Duke Jian of Qi let go of the handles of state and listened only to his great minister (Duke Jian was the son of Duke Dao, Yang Sheng; one reading does not take “ren” as Duke Jian’s delegation of duties; the great minister refers to Chen Chengzi). Generals and ministers monopolized power, formed factions, and pursued private gain; public justice did not prevail (here “party” means faction), and so Chen Cheng (Tian Chang) and Chi Yi Zi Pi were able to accomplish the deed—the difficult act of killing Duke Jian. The Lü clan’s sacrifices were cut off (Tai Gong’s surname was Lü, and Duke Jian was his descendant; the end of sacrifices means the Chen clan replaced Qi), and the Chen clan took the state. All this was brought about by softness and cowardice.

Ziyang of Zheng was firm, resolute, and fond of punishment (Ziyang was the ruler of Zheng; one account says he was Zheng’s minister). In carrying out punishments, once he seized someone he did not pardon. A household retainer who had broken a bow, fearing both punishment and death, took advantage of the commotion when the people were chasing a mad dog and killed Ziyang—because he feared Ziyang’s harsh severity. This was brought about by hardness and fierceness.

Nowadays people who do not understand the Dao see the soft and cowardly being bullied and so advertise their own firmness and resolution; seeing the firm and resolute destroyed, they advertise their own softness and cowardice. This is to have no judgment in one’s heart and to be led running astray by external things and by what one sees and hears.

Proper-name notes: Huainan Honglie Jie is an annotative commentary on the Huainanzi. Chen Cheng is Tian Chengzi, a representative figure of the Tian clan’s monopoly of Qi. Chi Yi Zi Pi is a figure connected with the Tian clan’s disorder. Ziyang was a late Spring and Autumn ruler or regent of Zheng, known for harsh punishments.

People too are contrary and confused, and therefore have no fixed destination throughout their lives. It is like someone who does not understand music trying to sing: if he sings in a turbid register, he becomes blocked and cannot modulate; if he sings in a clear register, he becomes dry and cannot sing in harmony. But when it comes to those skilled in song like Han E, Qin Qing, and Xue Tan, and those good at protracted singing like Hou Tong and Man Sheng, their hearts are pent up with intensity, their emotions and aspirations accumulate within, and when these brim over and issue as song, there is none that does not accord with pitch and make listeners submit in heart and grow calm in Qi. Why is this? Because within the heart there is a master that determines the clear and the turbid, undisturbed by external things, and thus it becomes its own standard.

Now when a blind man walks on the road, if people tell him to go left he goes left, and if they tell him to go right he goes right; when he meets a gentleman he changes course, but when he meets a petty person he falls into a ditch. Why? Because his eyes cannot contact external things and distinguish the road. Thus Marquis Wen of Wei employed both Lou Di and Wu Qi, yet still lost the land of Xihe; King Min of Qi relied exclusively on Nao Chi, and in the end died in the Eastern Temple. (Nao Chi was a Chu general who fled to Qi and became a minister there. King Min was unprincipled, and Nao Chi killed him, pulled out his sinews, and suspended him from the beam of the temple gate, where he died after three days; see the Zhan Guo Ce.) All these were cases of lacking the statecraft to harness worthy ministers. King Wen of Zhou employed both Lü Wang and Shao Gong Shi and became king. (Lü Wang was Tai Gong Lü Shang, skilled in military strategy; Shi was Shao Gong Shi, skilled at managing the people and affairs, and the song “Gantang” has been handed down from him.) King Zhuang of Chu exclusively appointed Sunshu Ao and became hegemon—this was because he had the technique to harness worthy ministers. (Sunshu Ao was a grandee of Chu and son of Wei Jia; some say he was a youth. Because he appointed the worthy and capable, Chu reached hegemony.)

Stringed music and song, drumming and dancing as pleasures; revolving, bowing, and yielding to cultivate ritual; lavish burials and prolonged mourning to send off the dead—these were established by Confucius, but Mozi criticized them. (To criticize means to censure.) Universal love, exalting the worthy, revering ghosts, and denying fate—these were established by Mozi, but Yang Zhu criticized them.

(Note: For textual variants in the text such as “chuan/guai” and “stable” versus “tending to return,” the vernacular translation follows the common meaning and does not list the variant readings one by one.)

Vernacular Explanation

Universal love, selecting scholars, and the Great Archery are for honoring the worthy; ancestral sacrifices and the veneration of the father are for revering ghosts and spirits (the word “right” here means to revere and value). These are all matters carried out in accordance with the four seasons.

Doctrines such as “denying fate” (not believing in the Heavenly Mandate and opposing fatalism) were all valued by Yangzi (Yang Zhu), and so Mencius wanted to oppose them.

“Keep one’s nature whole and preserve one’s authenticity; do not let things encumber the form”—preserving one’s original nature, guarding plain truth, and not allowing external things to burden one’s body—this was the doctrine established by Yangzi, and Mencius also criticized it. (Keeping one’s nature whole and preserving one’s authenticity means being unwilling to pluck out even a single hair to benefit the world, unwilling to do it; not letting things encumber the form means not allowing external things to burden one’s body and mind. Mencius once studied under Zisi’s school, inherited the virtue of Tang, Yu, and the Three Dynasties, expounded the meaning of the Poetry and Documents and Confucius, and wanted to block the exaggerated doctrines of Yang and Mo, and so he opposed Yangzi.)

Since choices differ and people’s minds are each different, right and wrong each have their proper place: when they attain their place, nothing is not right; when they lose their place, nothing is right.

The people of places such as Danxue, Taimeng, Fanzhong, Kongtong, Daxia, Beihu, Changgong, and Xiugu have different standards of right and wrong, and their customs are also contrary. (Danxue is in the south, where the sun inclines to the west; Taimeng is at the place where the sun sets in the four quarters; Fanzhong is a country name, and the people there have feet turned backward; Kongtong is in the extreme north, [associated with] the hoopoe; Daxia is in the west, and its gates face south; the peoples of Changgong and Xiugu are in the southwest. These eight directions are all in the land of the Eight Yin beyond the Nine Provinces.)

Ruler and minister, superior and inferior, husband and wife, father and son originally each have relations of mutual service and each keeping its proper role. What this place regards as right, that place regards as wrong; what this place regards as wrong, that place regards as right.

The “this” spoken of here refers to the nearby Huaxia, and “that” to the distant Eight Yin: what Huaxia affirms, the Eight Yin often deny and do not use; what Huaxia denies, the Eight Yin often affirm and put into practice.

It is like axes, chisels, mallets, and awls: each has its own use and cannot be used interchangeably.

In Yu’s time, he used the five notes to hear government affairs and govern the state. (Yu was the fifth-generation descendant of Zhuanxu, son of Gun, named Wenming; he received the abdication, and his achievements were celebrated as Yu. The five notes are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu.)

He hung bells, drums, stone chimes, and duo bells, and also set up a tao (small drum) to receive scholars from the four quarters, and issued the following orders: “Those who teach me with the Dao, beat the drum” (using the great Dao to teach me, strike the drum; the drum harmonizes Yin-Yang, and one sound can tune the five notes, so the drum is used); “Those who discuss affairs with me, shake the duo” (those who discuss concrete matters with me shake the duo; the duo is a bell with a metal mouth and wooden tongue, and affairs have many aspects, so the duo is used).

Using Matters of Anxiety as a Metaphor for Governance: Someone advised the ruler that when anxious he should strike the stone chime (qing, a stone instrument whose urgent sound symbolizes anxious and pressing matters); when there were prison cases and lawsuits he should shake a small hand drum (tao), because litigation is contention, contention arises from government affairs, and so the shaking drum served as a metaphor.

Harming Governance by Exhausting the People: In such a situation, the ruler would rise ten times during a single meal and, during a single hair wash, gather up his hair three times (kui means taking food); in this way he gave the common people under Heaven no peace. Here lao is read as the lao in laolai, meaning to cause the people hardship and give them no rest. If under such circumstances he still could not do good and fulfill his loyal duty, then his ability was insufficient.

The Abuses of the Qin Dynasty: In Qin times, high terraces and pavilions were raised, great parks and enclosures were built, long imperial highways were extended far into the distance, and metal statues were cast (after Qin Shi Huang unified the empire in the twenty-sixth year, giants appeared at Lintao, five zhang tall with feet six chi long, so bronze statues were cast in their likeness, known as Wengzhong). Garrison troops were conscripted to guard the Great Wall, and taxes in hay and fodder—feed for livestock—were levied to supply state expenses; a per-capita “winnowing-basket levy” (ji fu) was collected, scraping together the people’s wealth and sending it to the Shaofu (an office similar to the later Sinong). Able-bodied men were worn out rushing from place to place, from Lintao and Didao in the west (the Longxi and Hanyang regions) to Kuaiji and Fushi in the east (the Kuaiji Mountains and Liaoxi region), south to Yuzhang and Guilin (Yuzhang and Yulin commanderies), and north to Feihu and Yangyuan (the Dai and Taiyuan regions). The dead along the roads were so numerous that they were measured by ditches. At that time, those who gave loyal remonstrance were called ominous, and those who spoke of benevolence and righteousness were called arrogant and reckless.

Down to the Rule of Emperor Gao: It was only when Emperor Gao (Liu Bang) was on the throne… (The following text is not included; the excerpt ends here with the failures of Qin governance and the preservation of governance under Gaozu.)

Preserving the Perishing and Restoring the Severed (referring to Han Gaozu Liu Bang): He raised up the great righteousness of the realm, personally rolled back his sleeves and grasped weapons, and pleaded with August Heaven on behalf of the people (wielding sharp weapons to punish the unrighteous and praying to August Heaven for the people’s lives).

At that time, the realm’s stalwarts, heroes, and outstanding talents were exposed in wilds and marshes (the talented surpassing a thousand were called jun, surpassing a hundred hao, surpassing ten thousand ying). With arrows and stones before them and ravines behind, they passed through a hundred deaths to gain one life, contending for power over the realm (“duo” means to fall into; “dai” means to reach, pronounced with the sound of rengdai). They roused martial valor and tempered sincerity to decide their fate on a single day.

At this time, men in rich robes and broad sashes who expounded the ways of the Confucians and Mohists were considered unworthy (this refers to the exaltation of martial force). When the violence and rebellion had been overcome (victory over violent rebellion), and all within the seas was greatly settled, he continued King Wen’s enterprise of receiving the mandate and King Wu’s achievement of punishing the unrighteous; he trod upon the maps and registers of the Son of Heaven and made the Liu clan’s cap (Gaozu, at Xinfeng, made a bamboo-skin cap and called it the “weimao cap”); he gathered the Confucians and Mohists of Zou and Lu, transmitted the legacy teachings of the former sages, wore the Son of Heaven’s banner, rode the Grand Road carriage, set up the nine-streamer banner, struck the great bell, beat the sounding drum, performed the Xianchi, and raised the shields and axes (the Rites of Zhou says the Son of Heaven had five road carriages, including the Grand Road and Upper Road; when a king’s achievements are complete he creates music, hence the striking of bells and beating of drums; Xianchi is the music of the Yellow Emperor; gan is a shield, qi an axe, held by dancers in spring and summer). At this time, those who established martial merit were viewed with suspicion (suspicion means finding them strange). Within one generation, civil and martial alternated as dominant and subordinate, each being used according to the occasion.

In the present age, those who practice martiality condemn the civil, and those who practice civil condemn the martial; civil and martial repeatedly condemn each other, not knowing how they are used according to the times. This is to see a single finger in the corner of a room but not know the vastness of the eight poles (a corner is a corner in a room, meaning narrowness; the eight poles are the limits of the eight directions, meaning vastness). Thus, facing east one does not see the western wall; facing south one does not see the north—there is simply nowhere to go.

Note: The original has many interlinear notes; the vernacular retains the main glosses in parentheses.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Without a Fixed Direction, There Is Nowhere That Cannot Be Reached: When the mind holds no biased “direction,” it can reach in all directions; a state can endure because Dao and De are put into practice, the people’s hearts are pleased, and moral transformation and education are properly carried out—only then can the state survive.

The Reason a House Perishes Is That Principle Is Blocked: “Principle” means the Great Dao, the fundamental principle of governing. When principle is obstructed and governance lacks the Dao, the house will perish.

Yao had no city walls of a hundred households, and Shun had no private plot large enough to stick an awl into, yet they possessed all under heaven. Yu had fewer than ten men under him, and Tang’s land was no more than a seven-li allotment, yet he became king over the feudal lords. King Wen lived in Qizhou, with a territory of no more than a hundred li, yet he was established as Son of Heaven—all because they possessed the Kingly Way (wangdao), governing by De and benevolent rule rather than relying on territory and population. Mencius also said that by relying on De and benevolent government, one can become king by oneself; there is no need to wait for anything else.

Jie of Xia and Zhou of Yin were very powerful; wherever human footprints, boats, and carts reached, they established commanderies and counties. In the end, however, they were killed and laughed at by all under heaven. This is called “having the form of ruin”: without benevolence one must perish; though the outward form is large, the root of ruin is already within.

Therefore sages look to moral transformation and education for omens—signs of how matters take shape and how they will end. De has its flourishing and decline, and the ethos of the times first reveals the clue. When De was flourishing, as with King Wen, Boyi and Taigong saw it first; when De was declining, as with Jie and Zhou, the Grand Astrologer Zhonggu and Xiang Yi left them first. Those who obtain the Kingly Way may have small territory and yet become great—Tang and Wu were like this. Those who have the form of ruin may appear to succeed and yet fail—Jie and Zhou were like this.

When Xia was about to perish, the Grand Astrologer Zhonggu first fled to Shang; three years later, Jie perished—Tang destroyed Xia. When Yin was about to fall, the Grand Astrologer Xiang Yi first submitted to King Wen; one year later, Zhou perished—King Wu destroyed Shang. Sages observe survival and ruin, success and failure, not merely in the battle on the plain of Mingtiao or the battle on the jiazi day—Tang captured Jie at Mingtiao, and King Wu defeated Zhou on a jiazi day—but earlier, in the direction of the human heart and of Dao and De.

If one says that “the strong win,” comparing only territory and population, and that whoever is rich and advantaged is measured only by grain and weighed gold, then there would be no state of a thousand chariots that did not become hegemon, and no state of ten thousand chariots that did not perish—if survival and ruin were truly calculated this way, it would be far too simple. In reality, survival and ruin depend on De and the Kingly Way; one cannot look only at military strength and wealth.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Knowing and Not Knowing: Even the ignorant man and the foolish woman can discuss affairs of state. Zhao Xiangzi (head of the Zhao clan in Jin) relied on the strength of a single city, Jinyang (around present-day Taiyuan, Shanxi), to establish his dominance; yet Zhi Bo (leader of the Zhi clan), though commanding the combined strength of the Han, Wei, and Zhao houses, was instead captured and killed.

Historical Background: Zhi Bo had once annexed the lands of the Han, Wei, and Zhi families, and he also led the rulers of Han and Wei to besiege Zhao Xiangzi at Jinyang. Zhao Xiangzi sent Zhang Mengtan to secretly conspire with Han and Wei; Han and Wei turned their forces around and decisively defeated Zhi Bo’s army, taking his head as a drinking vessel. Hence it is said, “He was captured by means of the territory of the three Jin houses.”

King Min of Qi, though he held great Qi, still lost his state and was killed by Nao Chi. Tian Dan (a Qi general) achieved merit with a single city, Jimo (around present-day Pingdu, Shandong): when Yan attacked Qi, it occupied seventy cities, and only Jimo did not fall; Tian Dan, in the capacity of a market official, led the citizens of Jimo to defeat the Yan army, and so he was able to achieve merit.

Core Thesis: When a state is lost, even a large state is not sufficient to rely on—Zhi Bo is the example. When the Dao is practiced, even a small state must not be slighted—Tang of Shang with seventy li and King Wen of Zhou with a hundred li both obtained the world; therefore, though small, it must not be slighted.

From this we observe: survival and ruin lie in whether one attains the Dao, not in the size of the territory. A ruler who attains the Dao, even in a small state, practices goodness and can rule the world as king; thus it does not lie in being large. Ruin lies in losing the Dao, not in the state being small. A ruler without the Dao, even in a small state, does evil and does not reform; accumulating evil inevitably leads to ruin; thus it does not lie in being small.

The Book of Songs says, “He turned his affectionate gaze westward; here alone was fit for dwelling.” This speaks of leaving the Yin capital and moving to Zhou territory. King Zhou of Shang’s capital, Chaoge, was in the east; King Wen’s state, Qizhou, was in the west. Heaven affectionately turned its concern to the western land; only Zhou was fit for dwelling; hence it says leaving Yin and moving to Zhou.

Therefore, the ruler of a chaotic state devotes himself to expanding territory but not to benevolence and righteousness, devotes himself to high position but not to the Dao and De; this is to discard the way that preserves the state and to take the road that destroys it.

Jie, confined at Jiaomen (where Xia Jie was imprisoned), still did not recognize that his conduct was wrong, and did not regret not killing Tang at Xiatai. King Zhou of Shang, confined at Xuanshi (the name of a Zhou palace), still did not reflect, and did not regret not eliminating Tang early. The two remained unawakened until death; the root of their states’ ruin lay in losing the Dao, not in the states being small.

Vernacular Interpretation

Regretting not having killed King Wen of Zhou in Youli

("Youli" is in the present-day Tangyin area of Henan.) This means: King Zhou of Shang afterward regretted that he had not earlier eliminated King Wen in Youli.

The two rulers Jie and Zhou

They occupied powerful positions, yet did not cultivate benevolence and righteousness. If Tang and Wu wanted to punish their "crimes," they would not even have had the leisure to examine them closely—how much less would they dare casually plot usurpation?

(Here "the two rulers" refers to Jie and Zhou. Given their power at the time, if they had truly practiced benevolence and righteousness, Tang and Wu would not have dared easily raise troops.)

If above they confused the clarity of the sun, moon, and stars ("the three luminaries" are the sun, moon, and stars), and below they lost the hearts of the myriad people (their governance went against the people's hearts), then even without Tang and Wu, others could seize their realm. (In such a situation, it need not be Tang and Wu who destroy them.)

Now they do not reflect on whether their own virtue is lacking, but single-mindedly guard against outsiders (not cultivating their own virtue, yet guarding against everyone under Heaven coming to attack them). Under Heaven there are not only Tang and Wu; kill one tyrant, and there will surely be another to rise after him. Moreover, Tang and Wu could overcome the strong by the weak and become kings under Heaven because they had the Dao; Jie and Zhou, though powerful, were dispossessed because they were without the Dao. Now if one does not practice the way of the true king, but instead intensifies the methods for seizing the realm, that is the road rushing toward destruction.

After King Wu conquered Yin

He wanted to build a palace at "Wuxing Mountain." (Wuxing Mountain is today's Taihang Mountains, in the area north of Yewang County in Henei and near Shangdang Pass.)

The Duke of Zhou said: "It cannot be done. Wuxing Mountain is a place of dangerous passes and strategic fortresses. If my virtue is sufficient to win people over, the world will bring tribute, though the roads are circuitous and difficult. ('Hui' is sometimes written 'gu,' meaning solid and hard to attack.) If I myself engage in violent and rebellious conduct, and the world comes to attack me, then it will be difficult." (The Duke of Zhou meant: rely on virtue, not on terrain. If one acts violently and rebelliously, all under Heaven will come to attack; there is no need to occupy this strategic place.)

For this reason King Wu's line passed through thirty-six generations without being dispossessed. The Duke of Zhou may be said to have been able to "hold fullness" (full without overflowing, preserving what was achieved without loss).

Citing the Zhou Documents again

In former times, the Zhou Documents said... (This connects with the preceding passage about the Duke of Zhou remonstrating against Wuxing Mountain, emphasizing taking virtue as the foundation and not relying on terrain.)

The "Words" Chapter

The histories say: what is spoken above is for use below, and what is spoken below is for use above—the two must work together. What is said above consists largely of constant norms (the constant Way a ruler should keep); what is said below consists largely of expedient adaptation (strategy suited to circumstances). This is the crux of survival and ruin. Only a sage can both understand expedient words and make people trust them and act on them reliably; this alone is the highest conduct under Heaven.

In Ye County there was a man named Zhigong. His father stole a sheep, and he testified against him. Confucius said, "What we in our region call uprightness is not like this: fathers cover for their sons, and sons cover for their fathers; uprightness lies in this kind of human feeling." (When livestock comes by itself and is caught by someone, this is called rang.)

Weisheng (a man of Lu who arranged to meet a woman under a bridge; when the water rose and she did not come, he clung to the pillar and died)—to die for uprightness by testifying that one's father stole a sheep, or to die for keeping a covenant of trust: even if there is uprightness and trustworthiness, who could praise such conduct?

Within the Three Armies, forging orders (falsely transmitting the ruler's command) is a grave fault. Duke Mu of Qin raised troops to attack Zheng; passing through Zhou territory, he headed east. The Zheng merchant Xian Gao was just then going west to sell cattle. Meeting the Qin army between Zhou and Zheng, he falsely transmitted the order of the Earl of Zheng and used twelve head of cattle to feast the troops. The Qin army withdrew, and Zheng was preserved. Only when a matter is pushed to an extreme does it become "trustworthiness," but once it goes too far it becomes absurdity; absurdity sometimes, on the contrary, achieves great merit—the one who went to excess and made "trustworthiness" was Weisheng; the one whose absurdity achieved great merit was Xian Gao.

What is meant by "losing ritual propriety yet achieving great merit"? In former times, King Gong of Chu fought Duke Li of Jin at Yinling. Lü Qi shot King Gong in the eye, and King Gong was captured—this was a "fault."

(The following passage takes up examples of "losing ritual propriety yet having great merit"; one must consult the continuation of this section in the full work.)

Because he could correct his faults, he was called Gong (Reverent). Pan Wang, Yang Youji, Huang Shuaiwei, and Gongsun Bing together seized him. (These four were grandees of Chu and abducted King Gong while in Jin. “Shuai” is pronounced like the “wei” in “sheng zhi wei,” and “Wei” like the “wen” in “cheng zhi wen.”) King Gong was alarmed and frightened, and his bearing became completely disordered. (His dignified demeanor was not as usual; he could not even sit up.) Huang Shuaiwei lifted his foot and kicked his body; only then did King Gong come to his senses. Angered at their breach of etiquette, he suddenly braced himself and rose. The four grandees then lifted him and carried him off. (Breach of etiquette refers to kicking the ruler.)

In former times Cangwu Rao married a very beautiful wife and yielded her to his elder brother. This is what is meant by “loyal and affectionate but not practicable.” (Cangwu Rao was a contemporary of Confucius. Because his wife was beautiful, he yielded her to his elder brother; he was affectionate toward his brother, but he violated the principle of closeness and accommodating consideration, so it is said to be impracticable.) Therefore when sages assess affairs, they do not ask whether something is crooked or straight; they simply bend, stretch, bow, or lift according to circumstance, with no fixed ritual forms. Sometimes yielding and sometimes extending, lowly, weak, soft, and compliant as reeds and rushes—not because they fear others seizing power; firm, strong, fierce, and resolute, with ambition reaching the clouds—not because they naturally love boasting, but because they accord with the changes of the times.

When ruler and minister meet, bending the knee and bowing low is for mutual respect; but when disaster comes, to kick the ruler’s body—no one in the world can call it wrong. Thus when “loyalty” reaches such a point, ritual and law cannot restrain it. A filial son serving his parents has a gentle countenance and humble bearing, holding their belts and adjusting their shoes (“yun” means to set right; “hui” is the same); but when his father is drowning, he seizes him by the hair and pulls him up (zheng: to lift someone out of water is called zheng)—not because he dares to be arrogant or insulting, but to save him from death. Therefore in drowning one rescues one’s father; in prayer one calls the ruler by name. (Mencius said: “Not to rescue a drowning sister-in-law is to be a jackal or wolf; how much more with a father or elder brother?” Hence when drowning, rescue; when praying, name the ruler. The Zhou people avoided names in serving the spirits; their reverence was extreme, and circumstances made it unavoidable.) This is the establishment of quan.

Therefore Confucius said: “One may study together, but not yet proceed together to the great Way (shidao means the good way of benevolence and righteousness); one may proceed together to the great Way, but not yet establish virtue (establish virtue, establish merit, establish words); one may establish virtue, but not yet master expedient adaptation. Expedient adaptation is what the sage alone can perceive. Thus to first deviate and later accord is called quan.”

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Understanding “Quan” (Expediency)

“Quan” means not to push head-on against circumstances but to adapt measures to the matter at hand; weighing the light and the heavy has no fixed form. Circumstances can turn an ugly point into an advantage and make it fit what is appropriate for the occasion—only the sage can see through this. To fit the situation at first but then botch it afterward is called not knowing quan; those who do not know quan often turn a good undertaking into a bad one.

Ritual and Substance

Ritual is the ornamental scaffolding of “substance,” an outward display of empty form. When one suddenly falls into desperate straits, ritual often proves useless. Therefore the sage uses cultural refinement to interact with the world, but in handling affairs follows what is appropriate—not bound to one old path, not rigid and inflexible. Thus he has few failures and many successes; his orders and commands circulate throughout the world, and few can criticize them. (Note: here “jie” is close to “ju,” meaning being constrained to one side.)

The Xingxing and the Gan-Gao: Each Has Its Strength

The xingxing (ape) can know the past but cannot know the future: it is said to have a human face and an animal body and to be able to speak. When it sees people pass by, it can know their names—this is knowing the past. It also loves wine; people lure it with wine, and it drinks without stopping, not realizing it is drunk until it is caught. Hence it is said not to know the future.

The gan-gao (a magpie-like bird) can know the future but cannot know the past: when people are about to have sorrowful or joyful events, it calls out—this is knowing the future. It also knows that in a year with much wind it should build more nests on tree branches, but people often take its eggs; hence it is said not to know the past. (Gan is pronounced like the gan in “dry”; gao like the gao in “retreat.”)

This shows that natural endowments have their own boundaries of strength and weakness; one cannot force complete competence in all things.

Chang Hong and Su Qin: Knowing Techniques Cannot Protect Oneself

Chang Hong was a man of the Zhou royal house in charge of calendrical calculations. He understood thoroughly the Qi of Heaven and Earth, the movements of the sun and moon, changes in wind and rain, and the calculations of pitch standards and calendars, yet he could not know himself, and in the end he was torn apart by chariots and died. (During the rebellion of the Fan clan in Jin, he was related by marriage to the Fan clan of Jin and helped them; Zhou killed Chang Hong in order to explain itself to Jin.)

Su Qin was originally a commoner on foot, yet he wore rough sandals and rode in a carriage, manipulated rulers of ten thousand chariots, and made the feudal lords obey him; he too could not escape being torn apart by chariots.

The above shows that whether one understands expedient change, upholds ritual form, or excels in the technical arts of calculation, or in Vertical and Horizontal diplomacy, if one cannot protect oneself by “following what is appropriate,” one may still meet an extremely tragic end. This stands in contrast to the earlier statement that “the sage engages in affairs through substance in accordance with what is appropriate.”

Vernacular Interpretation

What is discussed here is an example of “misfortune,” and the protagonist is Su Qin.

Su Qin was from Luoyang. Expressions such as “yingying nang” and “bugai” describe how, when he first went out in his early years to travel among the states and persuade rulers, he carried his bundle on his back and trudged along on foot. Later Su Qin became chancellor of Zhao, and the king of Zhao enfeoffed him as Lord Wu’an. In the beginning, he was precisely one of those people who carried their baggage and hurried about from place to place.

He traveled through the various states to persuade those powerful rulers who possessed ten thousand chariots, helping to bring about the Dongshan Alliance (the coalition of the eastern states against Qin). He moved people by appealing to their interests and the balance of power; there was almost no one he could not persuade or win over. He also made the feudal lords all heed his commands, with none failing to pledge submission and agreement—hence the expression “fu nuo” (pledging assent).

But the irony is this: even if the feudal lords all “pledged assent,” they themselves could not escape a tragic fate like being torn apart by chariots (Su Qin himself later died by chariot dismemberment). This principle is explained in greater detail in the “Quanyan” chapter of the Huainan Honglie Jie.