《抱朴子外篇》Vol. 2

During my travels at Mount Yuntai, I encountered a recluse (yimin) while a government official was also present. The official remarked: "Under our enlightened sovereign's rule, all nations submit and distant regions pay tribute. Yet you, sir, imitate ancient hermits like Bo Chengzi Gao, withdrawing from society to dwell among birds and beasts. Times have changed and customs differ—what counted as noble reclusion in antiquity now constitutes shirking responsibility."

"The wise prevent calamity before it forms and avoid disaster before it strikes. Your abandonment of security for danger resembles Zhang Yi who fled summer heat only to be killed by tigers, or Shan Bao who avoided society but fell prey to wild beasts. Fearing worldly troubles, you face unfathomable perils—like dodging a puddle to leap into an abyss, or escaping mud only to plunge unwittingly into molten metal."

The recluse replied: "How can those fixated on mice comprehend the zhouyu (mythical beast)'s aspirations? Those mired in courtyard chores grasp the phoenix's lofty aims? Like gnats mocking the roc, morning mushrooms doubting ancient trees, well-frogs distrusting oceans, or fish sneering at the yinglong (divine dragon). You, troubled by worldly gains and losses, cannot fathom profound transcendence. I rejoice living in this Yao-Shun era of peace—why fear unfulfilled aspirations?"

The official countered: "The ancient eccentric Hua Shi refused to serve rulers and lived by the sea until Jiang Taigong executed him. Isn't your reclusion equally perilous?" The hermit responded: "Lü Shang (Jiang Taigong) excelled in warfare but failed at governance. Unlike heaven-earth embracing all things or oceans receiving rivers, he couldn't attract worthies. Obsessed with killing over cultivating benevolence-righteousness (renyi), he sowed his state's downfall at its founding. When Duke of Zhou heard this, he knew its collapse was inevitable."

"Warfare and statecraft differ—governing requires adaptability. Lü Shang misunderstood 'ruling a great state like cooking small fish,' applying military methods to governance. Persecuting noble men resembles swimming in armor while shooting moving targets—utterly irrational. Destroy ordinary nests, phoenixes won't come; drain fish ponds, dragons will depart; harm common beasts, qilin won't appear in suburbs. Kill one scholar, all worthies will withdraw."

This passage contrasts historical figures to illustrate the proper attitude rulers should adopt toward virtuous talents.

Though Lü Shang (Jiang Ziya) laid the foundation of the Zhou dynasty, treating talents harshly as he did would only drive capable individuals to rival states. Methods like purchasing horse bones to seek a thousand-mile steed or using humble lodgings to repel Qin troops are examples of neglecting the root for the branches. The Duke of Zhou (King Wu’s younger brother) was the true great sage—he humbled himself, personally receiving seventy common-born worthies, befriending and learning from them. Had Lü Shang been in the Duke of Zhou’s position, these worthies might well have ended up as corpses in the streets.

The text then cites exemplary rulers like Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang: Emperor Yao could have appointed Xu You and Chao Fu to office, Shun could have forced Shan Juan and Shi Hu into service, Yu could have compelled Bo Chengzi Gao, and Tang could have employed Bian Sui and Wu Guang. Similarly, Marquis Wen of Wei could have pressed Gan Mu into service, and Duke Ping of Jin could have summoned Tang Qi. Yet all these rulers chose to respect the worthies’ wishes—not out of weakness, but because they understood that coercing talents would undermine their own authority. Allowing worthies to live according to their aspirations, in contrast, fosters a culture of humility and curbs the corrupt pursuit of fame and profit.

Finally, even a ruler as unconventional as Emperor Gaozu of Han, despite his eagerness to enlist the "Four Haos of Mount Shang," never forced them into service. Only when the crown prince extended a humble invitation did the four recluses agree to emerge. This demonstrates that truly enlightened rulers understand the importance of respecting the choices of worthies, never resorting to force or authority to compel them.

This passage explores the conflict between hermits and worldly values through historical anecdotes. Ge Hong (Daoist name Baopuzi) uses the example of Lü Shang (Jiang Ziya) to illustrate this point: When Lü lived in seclusion in his early years, ordinary people looked down on him—even an old woman drove him away. As a peddler, he couldn't sell his goods; as a fisherman and hunter, he caught nothing. This shows that people did not truly respect recluses. Yet after becoming a founding minister of the Zhou dynasty, he ironically executed the hermit Juan Hua, fearing that hermits might discourage people's ambition.

The author sharply observes that society's real problem lies not in having too many contented poor, but in people's relentless pursuit of profit and insatiable greed. Since the dawn of creation, truly noble scholars who could forget wealth and status numbered fewer than one in ten thousand. Even Confucius (Zhongni), though he studied under Laozi, never mastered Wuwei (non-action); Zigong, though a disciple alongside Yuan Xian, never learned contentment in poverty—proof that transcending worldly desires is inherently difficult.

The text contrasts two ways of life: on one side are hermits like Chao Fu and Xu You (Chao-You), and on the other are power-hungry figures like the Four Villains and Wang Mang. A particularly ironic case is Cao Cao (Emperor Wu of Wei), who enforced harsh laws yet told Zhuge Liang, "Men of purity must not suffer humiliation under foolish rulers," revealing his contradictory mindset.

Finally, the passage criticizes contemporary social trends: people bribe their way to high positions and form cliques for personal advancement. This widespread corruption has led to moral decay and the decline of Confucian teachings, creating a distorted value system where "one cannot establish oneself without wealth." True transcendent sages, by contrast, find no place in such a world.

This passage discusses the comparative value between recluses (yimin) and worldly officials, with the core idea that "establishing virtue (De) and articulating wisdom" hold greater significance than pursuing fame and fortune.

It begins by stating: True scholars who devote themselves to studying the Dao (Way) behind closed doors inherently deserve special regard. Just as military strategists Sun Wu and Wu Qi could only fight as single combatants when personally taking the field, yet their strategic wisdom could defeat ten thousand troops. Appointing great scholars to government positions may not be appropriate - returning them to mountain forests might better serve to educate children and propagate ritual propriety. This would be like using an elephant to catch mice or harnessing phoenixes to pull carts - all instances of misapplying great talents.

Natural metaphors follow: What value is there in marsh duckweed that merely grows and withers? The recluse responds: You're like someone amusing themselves on a small mound, having never seen the Kunlun Immortal Mountains; splashing in shallow waters, never having swum the celestial rivers of the Southern Sea. True aspirants don't seek official positions or meritorious deeds - their highest attainment is self-forgetfulness (wuwei), the next being anonymity. They resemble birds soaring beyond worldly dust, capable of what ordinary people cannot achieve, remaining pure and untainted by fame and gain. Such noble character can cleanse an era's impurities - why must they wear official robes or ride in splendid carriages? Just as small birds don't abandon the sky for shrubs, nor great fish forsake the ocean for mountain streams, all beings find joy when fulfilling their proper nature.

The conclusion emphasizes: Those governing the world constantly worry about losing their positions, like fine jade from Lantian or choice timber from Denglin awaiting the craftsman's selection. Yet the reclusive life was originally approved by sages - whether withdrawing from or engaging with the world should follow one's innate disposition. What's most precious about scholars is establishing virtue (as in practicing filial piety and righteousness) and articulating wisdom (as in composing texts). Figures like Shan Juan, though without political achievements, are no less than vulgar officials; Confucius without military exploits is not inferior to Han Xin or Bai Qi. True value lies beyond worldly accomplishments.

This passage explores the value and philosophy of reclusive scholars. The author considers those who preserve their integrity through reclusion to be the most noble, citing ancient figures like Bo Yi and Shu Qi who adhered unwaveringly to principle. Though some lament their inflexibility, this very quality demonstrates the purity of the reclusive path.

The truly virtuous sages, as praised by Mencius, valued inner cultivation over official rank and privilege. Xunzi upheld the ideal of moral perfection enabling one to disregard power and status. Yet worldly people often fixate on influence and profit, dismissing those of high virtue but low station as mediocre, while deeming those in high positions as wise. Some even risk their lives pursuing fame and fortune—how vastly different they are from those who disregard worldly honors and cherish life itself!

To those who question the usefulness of recluses, the author counters: the qilin does not guard gates, the phoenix does not herald dawn, divine steeds do not pull plows, and ritual masters do not cook. Just as the sun illuminates all things, lamps brighten the night, and fire refines metal—each has its proper role. Rivers and seas generate clouds and rain to nourish the earth, yet daily needs are met by well water; irrigation ditches suffice for fields—why insist on comparing scales of grandeur?

Ultimately, true nobility lies not in rank: Tyrants like Jie and Zhou were emperors, while Confucius remained a minister, yet people resent being likened to the former and rejoice at being compared to the latter. Mencius said Yu, Ji, and Yan Yuan would have excelled equally in each other’s roles. Zai Yu believed Confucius surpassed even Yao and Shun in wisdom. That ordinary scholars could be mentioned alongside kings, or Confucian masters transcend legendary sage-rulers, proves virtue alone defines worth—why obsess over official titles?

The truly enlightened commune with the transformations of Heaven and Earth, their expansive minds unbound by worldly notions, their pure hearts untouched by praise or blame. Their transcendent realm lies beyond ordinary comprehension.

This passage describes the transcendent state of true Dao cultivators, who remain untainted by worldly desires and unshaken by common concerns. To them, wealth and glory are like superfluous warts on the body, and all worldly matters appear as thin and insignificant as a cicada's wings.

How could such individuals contort their bodies or force postures to please others? They neither flatter the powerful nor cower submissively to avoid conflict. Like ancient sages: King Tai of Zhou (grandfather of King Wen) abdicated his throne to live in Mount Qi; Fan Li, minister of Yue, retired to caves after achieving merit; Prince Jizha of Wu declined rulership to farm his homeland; and Lao Laizi (Spring-Autumn recluse) tilled vegetable gardens far from court politics. All followed their true nature, unchanged by external matters.

True nobility lies in this: purity of heart untouched by defilement constitutes wealth, and bodily freedom from servitude constitutes honor. Those possessing fiefdoms and official seals merely receive salaries and benefits. Remember—higher rank brings heavier responsibilities, greater achievements invite fiercer envy. Only by embracing humble circumstances can one avoid contention, maintaining lasting peace without worry.

Wearing coarse cloth and eating simple meals may draw mockery from petty men, yet compared to power-abusing nobles like Marquis Rang or Marquis Anchang (who violated rites with extravagant living), such simplicity avoids the burdens of transgression and moral stain. Better to immerse in classical texts, practice breath cultivation techniques (Daoist health methods), and sustain oneself through farming and weaving. A belly satisfied with river water, a body content like a bird resting on a single branch—viewing all worldly things as insignificant as dust.

Living on gruel, clad in rough hemp, serene and detached beyond joy or sorrow—this is supreme happiness. If holding office seeks lasting fame, writing equally expresses one's spirit for posterity—why rely solely on historians' records or bronze inscriptions? Mencius achieved merit without martial deeds; Yang Xiong (Han scholar) sought no fame through governance. Both attained virtue through benevolence—was this not admirable?

Some question hermits receiving state support without serving rulers. The response recalls: When Yan Hui died, Duke Ding of Lu prepared to personally mourn him, first sending messengers to consult Confucius (Zhongni)...

Confucius stated that all within the borders of a state are subjects of the ruler. When Duke Ding of Lu ascended the hall via the eastern steps, he performed the rites befitting a sovereign. This demonstrates that under heaven, none are not the ruler's subjects. Those serving in court diligently attend to governance, while recluses in mountain forests cultivate virtue to restrain corrupt tendencies—though their methods differ, both fulfill the fundamental duty of subjects. A ruler's governance knows no boundaries; the entire world is his household, and wherever the sun and moon shine or rain and dew nourish, there lies his domain. How could those who claim to "inhale wind and drink dew," abstaining from worldly sustenance, truly sever themselves from mortal affairs?

The gold and jade in the mountains, the pearls in the waters—though not gathered into the state treasury for daily use—are all the ruler's wealth. Similarly, recluses may not be listed among officials, yet like these natural treasures, are they not also resources of the state? Xu You (an ancient recluse) did not flee beyond the seas, nor did the Four Elders of Mount Shang (hermits of the Qin-Han transition) retreat to remote frontiers. Thus, it is said that all worthy scholars under heaven are subjects of the emperor. Duan Ganmu (a Warring States recluse) never joined the army to guard the borders, yet he served as a protective bulwark for the state of Wei. Today's recluses cultivate virtue in thatched huts, transmitting the Dao of ancient kings, teaching the people humility, and ensuring the teachings of Confucianism and Mohism endure—this too is what Yao and Shun praised.

In the past, Bo Yi and Shu Qi (recluses of the late Shang) starved to death rather than eat the grain of Zhou, and Bao Jiao (a Zhou-era recluse) died clinging to a tree. Such obstinate behavior is not worthy of emulation. History records many emperors extending honors to recluses: Emperor An of Han offered dark and crimson silks to recruit Zhou Yanzu; Emperor Huan employed the same rites for Wei Xiuming; Emperor Shun invited Yang Zhongxuan and granted him the title of Palace Attendant (a high-ranking position), yet all declined. Emperor Wen of Wei summoned Guan Ning (styled You'an) without success, and though he offered him the post of Minister of the Household (one of the Nine Ministers), Guan refused. The emperor then decreed that his locality present him with sheep and wine every August. Emperor Huan appointed Xu Zhi (styled Ruzi) as Governor of Taiyuan and Chancellor of the Donghai principality, while Emperor Shun invited Fan Ying (styled Jigao). Both declined but were granted regular gifts. Under Emperor Xian, Zheng Xuan (styled Kangcheng) was repeatedly recommended as "Worthy and Excellent" or "Flourishing Talent," yet he refused fourteen summonses. Emperor Zhao dispatched the Office of the Imperial Carriages to summon Han Fu, bestowing upon him silks, sheep, and wine.

These records show that enlightened rulers of all eras respected the choices of recluses, treating them with generous courtesy. Though recluses held no official posts, their virtuous teachings benefited the state, earning them exceptional honors. This stands in contrast to those who withdrew from the world in extreme ways—their rigid conduct is not to be admired.

This passage recounts stories of several recluses during the Eastern Han Dynasty who declined imperial summons. Local officials repeatedly recommended Han Boxiu (a Han Dynasty hermit) for the position of Filial and Incorrupt (a Han-era selection criterion), with regional governments issuing five summonses and the imperial court extending nine invitations under the title of Virtuous Talent—all of which he refused. Emperor Huan even sent envoys bearing lavish gifts—black and crimson silks (ceremonial fabrics for official appointments), jade tokens, and a comfortable carriage (an ancient seated vehicle)—to recruit him, yet Han Boxiu still refused to leave his mountain retreat.

Similarly, Jiang Boya (another Han recluse) was directly offered the prestigious positions of Grand Master of the Palace and Administrator of Qianwei Commandery, but he likewise declined. Nevertheless, the imperial court treated these hermits with exceptional respect and courtesy, never coercing them through authority or force.

The author Ge Hong reflects on this contrast: If these emperors' respectful treatment of recluses was correct, then Lü Shang's (Jiang Ziya) execution of Hua Shi (a Shang Dynasty hermit) appears excessively harsh by comparison. When career-minded scholars heard of these stories, they were left disheartened, sighing, "Now we finally understand the principle of transcending worldly affairs—it truly lies beyond the comprehension of vulgar minds like ours."

Through this juxtaposition, the passage presents two contrasting attitudes toward hermits: the Eastern Han court's tolerant reverence versus Jiang Ziya's severe measures. This reflects the Daoist philosophy of honoring natural spontaneity and opposing forced compliance in human affairs.