《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 21

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 20, Shen 6 (Fanlun Xun, Part Two): A Plain-Language Summary

Your servant Xu Shen, Libationer of the Grand Commandant, recorded and submitted this.

I. Knowing One Aspect but Losing the Whole Self

King Yan of Xu wore the garments of kindness and benevolence and practiced the way of benevolence and righteousness. On land, thirty-two states came to pay him court. Yet he died and his state perished, and his descendants were cut off. Note: In an age of decline and disorder, King Yan only cultivated benevolence and righteousness and did not prepare military defenses; the king of Chu destroyed him, and so he died and his state perished. The Seven Remonstrances says, “Jing Wen erred and Xu perished,” referring to this.

Grand Master Zhong assisted King Goujian of Yue, avenged grievances and wiped away shame for him, captured King Fuchai of Wu himself, and opened up several thousand li of territory. Yet Zhong ultimately submitted to the punishment of the Shulou sword and died. Note: Goujian used stratagems to take revenge on Fuchai and gained a thousand li of land; in the end the king of Yue suspected Zhong and bestowed the Shulou on him, ordering him to die. The Shulou is a sharp sword; another account says it was a long sword, its hilt fitted with a pulley ornament and its blade trailing on the ground, and he took the Shulou and went to his death.

These men all understood the key to order and disorder, but they did not know the complete means of preserving life.

Chang Hong knew the Way of Heaven but not human affairs; Su Qin knew expedient strategy but not calamity and blessing; King Yan of Xu knew benevolence and righteousness but not timing; Grand Master Zhong knew loyalty but not how to plan for himself.

The sage is not like this: he assesses the age and then acts; he weighs affairs and then makes plans. Therefore, when expanded throughout the world he is not cramped (Note: when in a great position, he can be great), and when confined within the ordinary span he is not blocked (Note: eight chi make one xun, and twice a xun makes one chang; when in a small position, he can be small and is not blocked or pressed by urgency).

II. Disorderly and Orderly Ages Each Have Their Proper Response

If the world is desolate and disordered, ritual propriety and righteousness are cut off, law and order are abandoned, the strong and weak encroach on one another, force is used to seize and level, ruler and minister have no distinction, noble and base have no order, lice and nits breed in armor and helmets (Note: cheng means to add or encroach; rang means to level or remove; “lice and nits breed” means the armor is never taken off the body), swallows and sparrows nest in the tents (Note: weiwo is a tent; chu means to nest), and soldiers cannot rest—yet only then does he begin to assume a submissive and deferential appearance and practice the rites of respect and frugality: he will certainly be suppressed and unable to rise.

When the world is peaceful, government and instruction are harmonious, the common people are respectful and harmonious, and superiors and inferiors are close—yet only then does he begin to set up an air of pride (Note: jin means self-aggrandizement) and bravely rouse force: he will inevitably not escape disaster.

Note: This chapter uses examples such as King Yan of Xu, Zhong and Goujian, Chang Hong, and Su Qin to explain that “knowing the mechanism of order and disorder” is not equivalent to “the means of preserving one’s nature and life”; the sage assesses the age and weighs circumstances: in a disorderly age one cannot merely put on an appearance of respect and frugality, and in an orderly age one cannot merely rely on brave force. Shulou, xun, chang, and the like are explained in Xu Shen’s commentary.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Vernacular Interpretation

Having mastered the principles by which things operate, the sage can be both Yin-soft and Yang-firm, can show weakness and display strength; he moves and rests with the seasons and establishes merit according to conditions. The moment a thing moves, one must know its reverse side; the moment an affair sprouts, one must observe its transformations—on this basis he establishes images and takes models, and in the course of operation accords with them, so that throughout his life he acts without falling into difficulty.

Among worldly affairs there are those that can be done but cannot be spoken of, those that can be contested but cannot be done, those that are easy to do but difficult to complete, and those that are difficult to complete but easy to ruin. What is called “can be done but cannot be spoken of” is the way of choosing and rejecting; “can be spoken of but cannot be done” is the art of deceit and fraud; “easy to do but difficult to complete” refers to concrete affairs; “difficult to complete but easy to ruin” is the burden of reputation. These four are what the sage alone can see through and constantly keep in mind.

“Bending an inch to stretch a foot”—the sage acts thus; “being crooked in small matters to be straight in great matters”—the noble man acts thus. The Duke of Zhou was once implicated in executing his younger brothers (Guan Shu and Cai Shu); Duke Huan of Qi once bore the evil reputation of entering the state from Ju and contending with Prince Jiu for the throne. Yet the Duke of Zhou made up for the defect with righteousness (he assisted King Cheng in bringing about Great Peace, and after seven years returned power and faced north as a subject, hence “made up for the defect with righteousness”), and Duke Huan erased the shame with merit (he assembled the feudal lords nine times and rectified all under Heaven, using merit to cover the evil of contending for the state); both are still called worthy. If because of a person’s small fault one obscures his great excellence, then there would be no sage kings or worthy ministers left in the world. Therefore a blemish in the eye does not prevent seeing, and it must not be burned away (a blemish is an excrescence; burning means cauterizing); an ailment in the throat does not prevent breathing, and it must not be bored through (boring means perforating).

Along the river there was originally no place of mounds and grave ridges, yet the tombs are too many to count; it is still called “easy” ground—using the great to illustrate the small, the myriad affairs are mostly completed or overturned through the few. When water is stirred, waves rise; high and low lie next to each other, and the difference between them is quite ordinary, yet it is still called “level”—although there are stirred-up waves, what is level is greater in amount. Just as tangerines and pomelos come forth in winter, many people say they die in winter; shepherd’s purse and wheat come forth in summer, many people say they grow in summer.

In former times Cao Gui served as general of Lu; in three battles he did not win, and lost a thousand li of land. If Cao Gui had made deep plans and not looked behind, cut off his foot and not turned back—(the following text continues with his deliberations and choices; read on according to the original scroll)—this is precisely the category of “can be done but cannot be spoken of” and “easy to do but difficult to complete,” which the sage alone perceives.

Huainan Honglie Jie: A Plain-Language Interpretation

If in battle he had turned around and cut his own throat, he would have ended up for the rest of his life as no more than a general of a defeated army or a captured commander. Cao Mo, a famous general of Lu in the Spring and Autumn period, did not regard defeat as shameful, nor did he regard dying without achievement as shameful: at the covenant meeting at Ke, he held a three-foot blade and thrust straight at the chest of Duke Huan of Qi; the territory lost in the previous three battles he recovered in a single morning. His name for courage spread throughout the world, and his achievement was established for Lu by recovering the fields of Wenyang.

Guan Zhong assisted Prince Jiu but failed to bring the matter to success, so one cannot call him wise; he fled and ran away, and did not die with his lord in the crisis, so one cannot call him brave; bound and put in fetters, he did not conceal his shame, so one cannot call him steadfast in integrity. A man possessing these three traits would not be befriended by common scholars, nor would a ruler make him a minister; commoners would not regard him as a beneficial friend, and rulers would not regard him as a righteous minister. Yet Guan Zhong freed himself from prison ropes, took charge of the government of Qi, nine times assembled the feudal lords, and once brought order to the whole world. If Guan Zhong had at first sacrificed his life and body, giving no thought to plans for what would come after, how could there have been such a hegemon’s enterprise? Today, when rulers assess ministers, if they do not reckon great achievements but merely sum up their general conduct and seek petty goodness, they lose the art of recognizing worthies. Here “outline” means broad plan; “petty goodness” means meticulous loyalty; and “art” means method.

Therefore, if a person’s virtue is deep and substantial, one need not press him on small matters; if a person’s reputation is great, one need not harshly reproach small faults. A puddle of rainwater in a cow’s hoofprint cannot nurture zhan or wei fish—a cen is rainwater collected in a cow’s hoofprint, a metaphor for smallness, and so it cannot produce large fish; both zhan and wei are large fish more than a zhang long, and legend says that in the second month of mid-spring they swim upstream from the west of the river, pass through Dragon Gate, and then transform into dragons; this is an old tradition. A beehive also cannot hold a swan’s egg—a “chamber” here means a nest—for its form is too small to contain a large body. It is common human nature that no one is without some shortcoming. If the general outline is right, even minor faults are not enough to be a burden; trust his general outline and overlook his detailed conduct. If the general outline is wrong, even if he has minor virtues praised by his village, he is still not adequate for great responsibility. Yan Huiju was originally a great robber of Liangfu, in Qi territory and in what is now the Mount Tai region, yet he became a loyal minister of Qi; Duan Ganmu was originally a proud and unruly man of Jin—zang means arrogant—yet he became the teacher of Marquis Wen of Wei.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Meng Mao (a figure from Qi during the Warring States period; the commentary sometimes makes him a great “market broker” of Wei, that is, a great merchant) married his own elder brother’s wife and had five sons with her, yet he was able to serve as chancellor in Wei, stabilize dangerous situations, and dissolve disasters (note: in the Intrigues of the Warring States he is sometimes written Mang Mao, and there is a claim that he had achievements such as stabilizing Wei and establishing merit).

Jing Yang was a general of Chu. He drank without restraint, let his hair hang loose, rode in the same carriage with women and conducted himself as he pleased, yet he was able to overawe the feudal lords.

These four men each had their shortcomings, but their merit and reputation did not fall away, because their overall grand strategy was correct (“strategy” here means the way of governing the state and employing troops).

Ji Xiang (a disciple of Confucius from Lu) and Chen Zhongzi (a disciple of Mencius from Qi, who lived in the Yuling region) held to integrity and lofty conduct. They would not enter the court of a corrupt ruler and would not eat the grain of a chaotic age, and in the end they starved to death. They could not, at critical moments of survival and destruction, continue broken lineages or support the endangered and relieve the distressed. They held minor principles tightly, but could not put grand strategy into play (here “extend” refers to the extension of minor principles, while “bend/repress” refers to the repression of grand strategy).

Therefore: those who are overly scrupulous in small matters find it hard to achieve great things; those who love picking at others’ faults, specialize in exposing others’ shortcomings, ruin reputations, and go their own way—the crowd cannot tolerate them (one interpretation: those whose conduct is defective are not tolerated by the crowd). In people of tall stature, the joints appear comparatively loose and wide-spaced; those with big feet and long strides step far when they lift their feet.

From antiquity to the present, none among the Five Emperors and Three Kings has been able to make virtue perfectly complete. Therefore the Yi says, “Small Excess: success; beneficial to be steadfast.” This means: no one is without fault, but one must not let faults become too great.

Yao, Shun, Tang, and Wu were the most flourishing rulers of their age; Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin were heroes among the Five Hegemons. Yet Yao had the name of “not being kind” (referring to not passing the realm to his son Danzhu); Shun had the slander of “humbling his father” (referring to his father Gusou having once been reduced to commoner status); Tang and Wu had the matters of exile and regicide (Tang of Shang exiled Jie to Nanchao; King Wu of Zhou executed the tyrant Zhou at the ancestral temple site); and the Five Hegemons also had schemes of violence and disorder (Duke Huan of Qi, Duke Wen of Jin, Duke Xiang of Song, King Zhuang of Chu, and Duke Mu of Qin—their virtue was not pure and unified, and there were many traces of contention, hence it is said they had schemes of violence and disorder).

Therefore the noble person does not demand that a single person be perfect in everything. Being upright and preserving integrity is indeed valuable, but if one only keeps minor principles and cannot aid the world, it is still not the Great Dao.

Vernacular Interpretation

Employing Others and Disciplining Oneself: Standards Must Be Kept Separate

In governing and employing people, one must not demand “integrity and uprightness” of oneself to the point of harshness, nor, because one is learned and penetrating, use the standard of full civil and martial talent to nitpick others. (The commentary also says: civil and martial capacities may be complete in one person, but one should not demand perfection of others.)

When asking something of a person, assign him only what human capacity can bear—let him do what his strength and ability can reach.

For self-cultivation (cultivating oneself), use moral virtue to make demands on oneself; in demanding of others, use human capacity—whatever they can accomplish is what should be required of them.

Measuring others by “human capacity” makes it easy to “meet the requirement” and easy to be satisfied; measuring oneself by “moral virtue” makes it hard to achieve and hard to render an account.

What is hard to achieve is what makes one’s conduct and bearing lofty; what is easy to account for makes people prone to seek only a living and only to get by.

The precious huang jade of the Xiahou clan (the Xia dynasty) cannot be entirely without flaws (a half-gui-shaped jade object, a treasured jade of the Xia dynasty; “kao” refers to flaws and cracks); the pearl of bright moon (a night-glowing pearl, resembling moonlight, hence called “bright moon”; “lei” refers to fine lines like knotted silk) also cannot be entirely without fine lines. Yet people throughout the world still treat them as treasures—why? Because minor defects are not enough to damage the overall great beauty.

If today one only remembers others’ shortcomings but forgets the strengths they have cultivated, and still hopes to find true worthy talents in the world, that will be difficult.

Baili Xi once fed cattle; Yi Yin once carried the ding and zu (seasoning the five flavors beside the cauldrons and stands, seeking an audience with King Tang, later becoming a worthy minister); the Grand Duke once wielded a knife and sold meat (Lü Shang, a man of Ji in Henei, once stranded in butchering and fishing, later assisting King Wen and King Wu in attacking Zhou); Ning Qi (a man of Wei, doing business in Qi, lodging at night outside the outer city gate, grieving over the age and singing a merchant song; Duke Huan went out at night to welcome him, later making him Grand Field Officer—his song is discussed in “Dao Ying”) once sang a merchant song. Their fine qualities were in fact always there, but the crowd saw only their low status and the filthy work they did, could not see the overall picture, and thought them useless; only when they became assistants to the Son of Heaven, occupied the Three Ducal positions, and became worthy ministers of the feudal lords did people truly believe them to be extraordinary.

Some rose from among the cauldrons and stands (Yi Yin), some emerged from butcher shops and wine stalls (the Grand Duke Lü Shang), some were released from bonds (Guan Zhong), some arose from beneath a cow’s jaw (Baili Xi; “han” is pronounced like the “he” in “he suo”). Then, after being washed and bathed and purified by fire (driving away evil with fire), they took their places in the court.

Summary: In recognizing people, one should look at the overall picture and their strengths; do not discard great beauty because of small flaws. Discipline oneself by moral virtue; treat others according to their capacities. Worthy talents often come from humble origins, and one must not slight them because of their background.

This passage discusses the challenge of distinguishing genuine talent from hypocrites, employing vivid analogies to illustrate the difficulty of recognizing true worth.

In ancient times, the establishment of high-ranking positions like the Three Dukes (Grand Preceptor, Grand Mentor, and Grand Guardian) held the same significance as the Zhou dynasty's Fire Master responsible for fire rituals. True talent should be inwardly worthy of the state and outwardly worthy of feudal lords. Yet in reality, many merely flatter rulers superficially—some are deemed virtuous before achieving merit, like Emperor Yao instantly recognizing Shun's capability, while others gain recognition only after accomplishments, like commoners eventually realizing Shun's virtue.

If rulers select talent solely based on personal preferences at court or among commoners without objective standards, many worthy individuals will inevitably be overlooked. People often confuse similar things: white bones resemble ivory, green jasper stones mimic true jade, and wild carrot appears like fragrant angelica. Similarly:

• The obstinate appear wise but aren't
• The dull-witted seem benevolent but aren't
• The reckless appear courageous but aren't

If human differences were as clear as distinguishing jade from stone or beauty from ugliness, judgment would be simple. But reality resembles confusing chuanxiong with ligusticum, or wild carrot with angelica—exceedingly difficult to differentiate.

Only true experts can discern: master swordsmith Ou Yezi could identify counterfeit Mo Ye swords (legendary blades), and jade connoisseur Yi Dun (renowned Spring and Autumn period jeweler) could distinguish jasper from genuine jade. Likewise, foolish rulers often fall prey to treacherous ministers, mistaking petty men for gentlemen, precisely because they lack this discernment of authenticity.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The sage can perceive great principles from subtle signs. Thus, by lifting a snake’s head one chi long, one can infer the length of its whole body; on seeing an elephant’s tusk, one can judge the size of the elephant; the son of Zhu Yong, a man from Bi in Qi, could tell at a glance whether a precious sword was sharp or blunt; and Yu’er and Yi Ya, Qi’s masters of taste, could taste a mixture of the Zi and Sheng rivers and know its sweetness or bitterness. Therefore, when the sage evaluates worthiness, a single deed is enough to distinguish the worthy from the unworthy.

Confucius was in Qi. Duke Jing provided for him in words only; since Confucius did not see him put the Dao (the Way) into practice, he was unwilling to accept a stipend in vain and declined, not taking even small advantages such as knives and hooks. Xu You was a hermit of Yangcheng. Yao wished to abdicate the realm to him, but he washed his ears and refused to listen, and in the end was not moved by the prospect of enfeoffment as a marquis. A person who has never been burned by fire does not dare to grasp fire, because he has seen that fire can scorch; one who has never been cut by a blade does not dare to grasp a blade, because he has seen that a blade can injure. From this we observe that from what has already manifested one can infer what has not yet issued; from small details one can know the larger whole. The method for assessing people is this: when someone holds an honored position, observe whom he recommends; when he is wealthy, observe what he gives; when he is in hardship, observe what he refuses; when he is lowly, observe what he will not do; when he is poor, observe what he does not take. Observe courage in danger, constancy in joy, test character with wealth and goods, and know integrity in fear; then human dispositions can be fully understood.

In antiquity, those skilled at rewarding expended little, yet the multitude was encouraged (as with Zhao Xiangzi); those skilled at punishing used few penalties, yet wickedness was restrained (as with King Wei of Qi); those skilled at giving made modest use of resources yet produced De (Virtue/Power) (as with Duke Mu of Qin); those skilled at taking brought in much without resentment (as with Duke Huan of Qi). Zhao Xiangzi was besieged at Jinyang. After the siege was lifted, he rewarded five who had merit, with Gao He first. His attendants said: “In the crisis at Jinyang, Gao He had no great merit; why is he first in reward today?” — (The original narrates here; what follows should be Xiangzi’s reply, but this passage of the text appears to be incomplete or continued on another page.)

A Vernacular Reading of the Huainan Honglie Jie

“Why ‘first’?” The chapter asks: why are the following matters placed at the beginning?

Zhibo Besieges Jinyang and Zhang Mengtan

Zhibo (Zhi Yao) demanded territory from Zhao Xiangzi, and Zhao Xiangzi refused. Zhibo then led the armies of Han and Wei to besiege the Zhao clan. For three months he could not take it.

There was a Zhao minister named Zhang Mengtan. The marginal note says: Zhang Mengtan secretly conspired with Han and Wei and turned their forces against Zhibo; the main reliance was on Zhang Mengtan—so the later text says: Gao He did not establish any great merit (those who truly reversed the situation were men like Zhang Mengtan; Gao He merely preserved propriety in a crisis).

Zhao Xiangzi said: When Jinyang was besieged, my altars of state were in danger and the state was imperiled; among rulers and ministers there was none without arrogance and contempt, but only Gao He did not lose the propriety between ruler and minister. Therefore he rewarded only one man, and throughout the world those who wished to be loyal ministers all became more loyal to their own rulers—this is called “rewarding few yet encouraging many to goodness.”

King Wei of Qi and “Wuyan”

King Wei of Qi set up a large cauldron in the courtyard and enumerated the faults of Wuyan (the ugly woman and worthy minister Zhong Wuyan), rebuking her, and ordered: I hear your fine words every day, but when I inspect your administration, the fields are overgrown, the granaries are empty, and the prisons are full—you have served me with wicked and crooked deeds! He then had her boiled alive.

For this reason, in Qi thereafter, for thirty-two years, things dropped on the road were not picked up—this is called “punishments used sparingly yet wickedness restrained” (punishments applied precisely, so wickedness is suppressed).

Duke Mu of Qin Loses His Horse and the Battle of Han

Duke Mu of Qin went out hunting; his carriage broke, and the right-hand carriage horse ran off and was caught by country folk. Duke Mu pursued and caught up with them south of Mount Qi, where those people were killing the horse to eat it.

Duke Mu said: Eating the flesh of a fine horse without wine to go with it will harm the body; I fear it will injure you. He had wine brought and passed it around for them all to drink, and only then left.

Marginal note: “after one year” means the second year after he had them eat the horse meat and drink wine; “the Battle of Han” refers to the battle between Qin and Duke Hui of Jin, Yiwu, at Han (the Han Yuan area)—Duke Hui of Jin had once betrayed his covenant with Qin and taken bribes for himself, so Qin raised troops to attack Jin.

The Jin army surrounded Duke Mu’s carriage. The Jin minister Liang Youmi seized the horse beside Duke Mu’s carriage and nearly captured Duke Mu. More than three hundred country folk who had eaten that horse’s meat the previous year all fought to the death beneath the carriage for Duke Mu, finally defeated the Jin army, and returned with Duke Hui of Jin as a captive.

This is called gaining through restraint—a small kindness of generosity and covenant-keeping later brought a great return.

Duke Huan of Qi’s Campaigns and “Extracting Weapons through Crimes”

Duke Huan of Qi was about to go on a campaign but lacked armor and weapons. He ordered: those who committed grave crimes were to provide one set of rhinoceros-hide armor (tough armor made of rhinoceros hide) and one halberd (a chariot-warfare weapon about one zhang and six chi long; a marginal note sometimes reads “three,” meaning three sets of armor); those who committed lighter crimes were to redeem their offenses with gold, in grades according to the severity of the crime…

The text comes to an abrupt stop at “litigation but not…”. The commonly seen continuation is usually something like “those who litigate but are not upright also divide gold [to redeem themselves]” (those whose lawsuits are false also pay gold in graded amounts to redeem themselves). The base text here is incomplete, so the vernacular can only say this much: he used penal categories and redemption payments to make up the armor and weapons, and also restrained crooked litigation—this belongs to the same logic of statecraft as the earlier “punishments sparingly used yet wickedness restrained.”

Overall meaning: Through stories such as Zhao Xiangzi rewarding Gao He, King Wei of Qi boiling Wuyan, Duke Mu of Qin pardoning the rustics who ate his horse, and Duke Huan of Qi using crimes to redeem for weapons, it explains that if rewards match conduct, punishments match crimes, and kindness need not be great but must hit the vital point, then “many are encouraged to goodness,” “nothing dropped on the roads is picked up,” “people will risk death to repay,” and “armor and weapons will be sufficient of themselves”—this is what the exegetical section means by “first”: first cite historical events, then discuss the way of governance.

Vernacular Interpretation

The victor took out a bundle of arrows and distributed them to everyone (even those who had not won could get some, so no one felt disadvantaged; a bundle usually contained twelve arrows), and the people were all delighted. Thereupon they trimmed the arrow shafts into usable arrows and cast metal to make weapons (five kinds of bladed weapons: knife, sword, spear, halberd, and so on), using them to punish the unjust and campaign against those without the Dao (the Way), ultimately establishing hegemony over all under Heaven. This is the practice of “having many people yet not provoking resentment.”

Therefore, the sage follows what the people like in order to encourage them to do good, and follows what the people dislike in order to prohibit wickedness and depravity. Thus, when one person is rewarded, everyone under Heaven praises it; when one person is punished, everyone under Heaven fears it. The highest reward is to reward those who ought to be rewarded, without wasting gracious rewards; the highest punishment is to punish those who ought to be punished, without harming good people or killing excessively.

Confucius executed Shao Zhengmao (Shao Zhengmao was a wicked man of Lu; when Confucius served as minister of Lu, he had him executed beneath the Eastern Observatory after seven days), and the corrupt trends in Lu were blocked, so punishments were not misused. Zichan executed Deng Xi (Deng Xi was fond of sophistry and disrupted the laws and standards; after Zichan killed him, wickedness in Zheng was also curbed. The Zuo Zhuan says that Zheng used the penal code established by Deng Xi, but did not abolish the law because of the man), and wickedness was likewise stopped. This is to use nearby affairs to make distant ones understood, and to see great principles through small matters.

So when the sage keeps to simplicity and governs the vast, this is exactly what it means: Nothing under Heaven is easier than doing good; nothing is harder than doing evil.

What is meant by doing good is this: the mind becomes still, there is little reckless movement, one follows one’s natural disposition, guards the true and embraces simplicity, is not enticed by external things, and does not change one’s original nature—therefore it is easy. What is meant by doing evil is this: being restless and full of desires—scaling city walls, forcing through dangerous passes, stealing tallies and credentials, robbing official seals, usurping power and murdering rulers, falsely transmitting orders, and using lies to harm others. None of these come from people’s innate good nature; they are twisted out of acquired greed and desire, and therefore they are difficult.

In sum: When one keeps stillness and follows one’s nature, doing good is easy; when one is restless with desires and acts recklessly, doing evil is hard.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

The reason people often incur crimes that land them in prison and fall into the suffering of execution and punishment is mostly that they cannot restrain their desires and do not act according to proper measure.

How do we know this is so? The laws of the government offices throughout the realm state: grave robbers are put to death; thieves are punished—this is what those in power must control. The function of laws is to net the wicked and crooked and to trace them along their tracks (Note: The old commentary on “qin shuai sui qi ji” offers explanations such as “qin means questioning the officials; shuai means great responsibility”). Thus even foolish men and ignorant women know that doing wicked deeds cannot be escaped and violating prohibitions cannot avoid punishment.

Yet unworthy juniors cannot suppress their desires. They know full well that there is the crime of braving death and the shame of being executed (the word meng carries the senses of “braving” and “knowing full well”). But once the Beginning of Autumn has passed, the officers of the Sikou, the Minister of Crime, come to their doors one after another, and blood is shed in the bustling market—why is this? They are deluded by the acquisition of wealth and profit, and blinded by the calamity of death.

To use an analogy: when two armies stand arrayed against each other, the general’s command says, “Those who take heads will be granted noble rank; those who shrink back will be cut in two at the waist.” Yet some in the ranks simply cannot bring themselves to charge, and the result is that they fail to win the merit of taking heads and instead incur the punishment of being cut in two at the waist—this is wanting to avoid “possible death” while heading toward “certain death.” Therefore benefit and harm can reverse, and misfortune and blessing are joined head to tail; one cannot fail to examine this closely.

Some things, the harder you strive for them, the more you lose them; some things, the harder you try to avoid them, the more you run into them.

In Chu there was a man who was on a boat when a great wind arose; as soon as the waves came, he jumped into the water—not that he did not cling to life, but that his fear of death went too far, and he forgot the way to live. Human cravings are often like this too.

A man of Qi stole gold. When the market was crowded with people, he reached out, grabbed the gold, and ran. The official asked, “What do you mean by stealing gold in full view of everyone?” (Fan means there were many people; le means to take charge of the questioning; gu has the sense of “yet” or “unexpectedly.”) He answered, “In my eyes there were no people; I saw only gold.” When the mind wants only that one thing, it forgets the “occasion and measure” entirely.

Therefore the sage must scrutinize the changes of movement and stillness, grasp the proper measure in what to receive and what to give, harmonize the feelings of liking and disliking, and regulate the measure of joy and anger. When movement and stillness are fitting, misfortune cannot get through; when receiving and giving are fitting, guilt cannot fasten onto you; when likes and dislikes are put in order, worry will not cling to you; when joy and anger have measure, resentment will not intrude upon you. Thus one who comprehends the Great Dao does not greedily seek gain by improper means, nor recklessly push away blessings; what should be guarded, he will not casually cast aside.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

“What is not his he does not seek; constantly full yet not overflowing; always empty and easily satisfied.” (Emptiness and desire: in the heart, not coveting what is not one’s own, always feeling self-sufficient, like an empty vessel that is easy to fill, and when full does not overflow.)

It is like rainwater from the eaves, which can fill pots and wine vessels but cannot fill a leaking cup; the human heart is likewise.

People should measure things by the methods of the Dao (the principles and methods on which governing the state and cultivating the self depend): if food can satisfy hunger and clothing can ward off cold, that is enough to nourish this seven-chi body. If one does not measure by the methods of the Dao but relies only on mere frugality, then even with the power of a state of ten thousand chariots one would not feel honored, and with the wealth of the world one would not feel joy. (It is like Jie and Zhou, who lacked the measure of the Dao; they did not even count as ordinary men—how could they speak of honor and joy?)

Sun Shu’ao three times declined the post of Lingyin (the highest chief minister of Chu) and still showed no worry on his face; rank and salary could not entangle him. (He did not let rank and salary burden his person.) The man of Jing, Cifei (or “the brave man of Jing”), encountered two jiao-dragons coiling around his boat, yet his will did not stir; strange beings could not alarm him. (He was brave without being confused.)

The sage’s heart is level and his will at peace; his spirit is guarded within, and external things find it hard to confuse him.

A drunken man lowers his head to enter a city gate and thinks the gate is only seven chi high; he treats crossing the Yangtze and Huai rivers as if passing an ordinary ditch—wine has muddied his mind and spirit. A timid person at night sees a standing post (a gnomon for measuring the sun’s shadow) and thinks it a ghost; sees a sleeping stone and thinks it a tiger—fear has seized his Qi. (“Yan” here means to seize.)

How much more so when there are no strange transformations in heaven and earth? Male and female mate, Yin-Yang press upon each other; feathered creatures hatch chicks, furred creatures give birth to foals and calves; the soft becomes skin and flesh, the hard becomes teeth and horns—people do not find this strange. Water produces shellfish and clams, mountains produce gold and jade—people do not find this strange. An old locust tree can ignite by itself; long-exposed blood becomes phosphorus (blood essence exposed on the ground for a hundred days, seen from afar like fire, namely phosphorus fire)—people do not find this strange.

Mountains produce the Jiaoyang (a mountain spirit: human-shaped and tall, with a dark face, a hairy body, and reversed heels, which laughs when it sees people); water produces the Wangxiang (a water spirit; the Guoyu speaks of dragons, Wangxiang, and the like); wood produces the Bifang (a wood spirit, bird-shaped, blue-green, with red feet, one leg, and it does not eat the five grains); wells produce the Fenyang (an earth spirit, as when the Ji scion of Lu dug a well and obtained an earthen jar with a sheep inside). People consider them strange because they have seen little and know things shallowly. What the world calls “monsters” is mostly like this.

The sage alone can clearly see how benefit and harm repeatedly turn into one another, and the wise alone can distinguish sameness from difference and resolve doubts; yet these are precisely the points on which people of the world are most easily confused. Therefore the ancients used ghosts and spirits and omens of good and ill fortune to establish taboos, and they created various images and analogies to serve as warnings. How can we know this? Popular custom says: when sacrificing to the Great High (a supreme deity such as Shangdi or the Heavenly Thearch), a pig is the superior sacrificial victim; when burying the dead, fur garments must not be interred with them; if people play with knives, the ancestral spirit (Taizu) will jostle your elbow; if you sleep with your head pillowed on the door lintel, ghosts and spirits will tread on your head. None of this is written in the laws and ordinances, nor is it doctrine personally transmitted by the sages.

Why is a pig the superior victim when sacrificing to the Great High? It is not that a pig is more “worthy” than wild beasts, deer, or elk; rather, the deities alone accept this offering—actually, because pigs are commonly raised in households and easy to obtain, this convenient thing is used to express reverence.

Why may fur not be buried with the dead? It is not that fine silk or fox fur cannot warm the body; rather, people of the world regard fur as a rare and valuable item. Burying it brings no benefit to the dead but is enough to sustain the living, so a taboo is used to protect and nourish the living.

Why, when people play with blades, will the ancestral spirit jostle their elbows? Playing with knives inevitably leads to mistakes, and injuries from mistakes bring great calamity. Though there is no blood feud, people may fall into punishment through fighting over trifles. The foolish do not know to be wary, so the spirit of the ancestral temple is invoked to burden their minds and make them afraid.

Why, when sleeping with the head on the door lintel, will ghosts and spirits tread on one’s head? If ghosts and spirits truly possessed wondrous transformations, they could enter and exit without waiting for doors and windows; if they truly could pass through emptiness, how could they step on one’s head? Doors and windows are places where wind and Qi come and go, and wind and Qi are where the coarse and fierce aspects of Yin-Yang contend; encountering them inevitably causes illness. Therefore the name of ghosts and spirits is borrowed to make the meaning of the warning clear.

(Note: In the text, “Great High” means the Heavenly Thearch; “Taizu” refers to the ancestral or ancestral-temple spirit; the term rendered “jostle” means to push or bump; the term rendered “taboo/fear” means to dread or be in awe.)

There are too many such matters to write them all down one by one on bamboo slips and silk scrolls and collect them in government archives. That is why the ancients used “auspicious and inauspicious omens” to make people understand the principles. Ignorant people, unaware of the harm in this, borrowed the name of ghosts and spirits to promote their own teachings; this practice has a long history. The foolish take it as heavenly secrets and auspicious signs, while the cunning stubbornly insist that “there is no such thing at all”—only a person who has attained the Dao (the Way) can truly grasp the meaning behind it.

Today people sacrifice to the well, stove, door, winnowing basket, broom, mortar, and pestle, not because they believe the spirits within these objects can really enjoy the offerings, but because they are grateful for the benefits these things give people every day, while people trouble them and use them without end. Therefore, at the proper times, they make manifest their “De” (Virtue/Power), so that people will not forget their achievements.

Strike a mountain rock, and dark clouds gather from the four directions; before a single morning has passed (the time from sunrise to breakfast), rain falls everywhere under heaven—only Mount Tai can do this. When the land is bare and drought lasts for three years, yet the currents still never cease, and the lakes and marshes can moisten the plants and trees within a hundred li—only the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers can do this. That is why the Son of Heaven offers solemn sacrifices to them according to rank.

A horse that saved people from disaster was, after death, buried with the rites for burying a horse; an ox that pulled carts for people was, after death, buried with the rites for a great carriage. Since the merit of oxen and horses cannot be forgotten, how much less can that of human beings? This is why the sages value benevolence and accumulate kindness and beneficence layer upon layer.

The Yan Emperor (Shennong, who ruled the world by Fire De and after death was entrusted to the Stove God to receive sacrifices) died by fire; later generations sacrificed to him as the Stove God. Yu labored for the world in controlling the waters until his death; his spirit was entrusted to the Houtu deity and received sacrifices, becoming the She (Soil God). Houji (that is, Zhou Qi, who taught the people sowing and reaping) died while engaged in farming, and his spirit was entrusted as the Ji (Millet God). Yi, having removed the world’s calamities, died and was entrusted as Zongbu (one account says he was a field god or a god who went on inspection tours; or it refers to the Zongbu hung in the house; this Yi is the Yi of Yao’s time who shot the Hebo (River Earl) and Fengbo (Wind Earl), not Houyi of Youqiong). This is how the positions of ghosts and spirits came to be established.

In northern Chu there was a man fond of chivalrous conduct and knight-errantry. His sons and grandsons repeatedly remonstrated with him to stop, but he would not listen. When bandits appeared in the county, his house was thoroughly searched, and the affair was indeed exposed. That night he fled in fright; the pursuers caught up with him on the road and ... him.

Note: The term “Jixiang” (portents) in the text refers to using good and bad fortune and strange phenomena to elucidate human affairs; “Tuosi” (entrusted sacrifice) means entrusting the spirit of a person of outstanding merit to a specific deity position for sacrifice, not literally that “after death the soul really becomes a stove or soil god.” The parenthetical material consists of original annotations, either integrated into the above or briefly explained here.

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 20: A Vernacular Interpretation

Chivalry and Escape from Calamity

There was once a man who widely bestowed kindness. When he met with calamity, those who had received his kindness were all willing to exert themselves for him, and so he escaped danger and returned home. He said to his son:

“You always stopped me from acting with chivalrous righteousness. This time, when I was in danger, it was precisely by chivalry that I saved my life. But that advice you gave me before really cannot be taken seriously.”

He only knew how to escape danger by luck; he did not know how to avoid falling into danger in the first place. Looking at things this way, is he not confused?

Two Speeches: Marrying Out a Daughter and Taking in a Daughter-in-Law

In Song there was a man who, when his daughter was to be married out, said to his son: “A daughter married out may not fare well. It is like goods leaving the house—one cannot but secretly stash away a sum. If it is stashed well, then when she is rich, remarrying will also be easy.” The son obeyed his father, and on his wedding day stole the host’s property and hid it. The host discovered the theft and drove him away. The father did not reflect that he himself had taught the man wrongly; instead he was pleased that “the plan had worked.” He only knew how to hide wealth as if shipping goods out, but did not know that it was precisely hiding wealth that brought about being driven out. Is reasoning like this not absurd?

Hired Carting, the Axle, and the King of Chu’s Jade Pendant

A man was hired to load a cart: one cartload of goods and the strength of one ox, and the axle broke. Someone hurriedly bound the axle with a piece of shaft wood to reinforce it, thinking he was repairing the cart; in fact he did not understand how axle and shaft were originally meant to fit together. The axle would still break.

The King of Chu ran while wearing jade, and the jade was broken. Someone then wore two pieces of jade, thinking this would guard against it; as it turned out, the two jades struck each other and broke again, and he ran all the faster and more clumsily. Sometimes governing a state’s order and disorder is like this: one only cares to add patches and does not understand that the crux lies in structure.

The owl has big eyes but loves to sleep; it is not as good as the rat and the millipede. Many-legged insects cannot run as well as snakes. Among the ten thousand things there are often times when the large is not as good as the small, the many not as good as the few. As for who is strong and who is weak, who is in danger and who is safe, who survives and who perishes—who but a sage can see through it? Merely by size and rank, one cannot judge high and low.

Where the Dao Is, There Is Honor

When the Son of Heaven lodged in a suburban pavilion, the Nine Ministers hastened and the high officials hurried about; those sitting bowed low, those standing stood solemnly. At that time, in the Bright Hall and the Great Ancestral Temple, he would remove his cap, unfasten his sword, and loosen his belt before resting peacefully—not because the suburban pavilion was large and the temple hall small, but because where the Most Honored One is, people naturally stand in awe.

The honor of the Dao of Heaven is not only the honor of the Son of Heaven alone; wherever the Dao is, the people rely on that one. Hibernating insects and magpies building nests all orient toward the “One”—unity, the pivot of the Dao of Heaven. The Qi of Ultimate Harmony is there. If emperors and kings can embrace and receive the great Dao and become one with Ultimate Harmony, birds, beasts, grasses, and trees will all receive their grace—how much more so when governing the people?

Brief Notes on Proper Terms: Jiu zai means hiring people to transport goods and load carts; Yuan and zhou mean the cart shaft and axle; Pei jue means a jade pendant, a jue being a ring-shaped jade; Xiang tian yi means orienting toward the Dao of Heaven, the unifying “One”; Zhihe means the Qi of the highest harmony.