Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism) [1st ed.] 9783030492274, 9783030492281

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Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14

David Chai Editor

Dao Companion to Xuanxue玄學 (Neo-Daoism)

Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy Volume 14

Series Editor Yong Huang Department of Philosophy The Chinese University of Hong Kong Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong E-mail: [email protected]

While ‘‘philosophy’’ is a Western term, philosophy is not something exclusively Western. In this increasingly globalized world, the importance of non-Western philosophy is becoming more and more obvious. Among all the non-Western traditions, Chinese philosophy is certainly one of the richest. In a history of more than 2500 years, many extremely important classics, philosophers, and schools have emerged. As China is becoming an economic power today, it is only natural that more and more people are interested in learning about the cultural traditions, including the philosophical tradition, of China. The Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy series aims to provide the most comprehensive and most up-to-date introduction to various aspects of Chinese philosophy as well as philosophical traditions heavily influenced by it. Each volume in this series focuses on an individual school, text, or person. More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/8596

David Chai Editor

Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism)

Editor David Chai Department of Philosophy Chinese University of Hong Kong Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong

ISSN 2211-0275     ISSN 2542-8780 (electronic) Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy ISBN 978-3-030-49227-4    ISBN 978-3-030-49228-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Contents

1 Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    1 David Chai Part I  Background of Xuanxue 2 Xuanxue’s Contributions to Chinese Philosophy����������������������������������   13 James D. Sellmann 3 The Metaphysical Style and Structural Coherence of Names in Xuanxue������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   33 Jana S. Rošker Part II  Foreshadowing Xuanxue in the Eastern Han 4 Oneness in the Taipingjing����������������������������������������������������������������������   57 Barbara Hendrischke 5 Yin and Yang in the Taipingjing��������������������������������������������������������������   81 Barbara Hendrischke 6 Dao and Ziran in Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  103 Misha Tadd 7 The Walking Dead: Morality, Health, and Longevity in the Xuanxue Method of the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  129 Ronnie Littlejohn 8 Wang Chong’s View of Ziran and its Influence on Wang Bi and Guo Xiang����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  149 Alexus McLeod

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Contents

Part III  Xuanxue in the Wei Dynasty 9 He Yan’s “Essay on Dao” and “Essay on the Nameless” ��������������������  167 Paul D’Ambrosio 10 He Yan’s Collected Explanations on the Analects��������������������������������  185 Yuet Keung Lo 11 Ruan Ji’s “On Comprehending the Zhuangzi”������������������������������������  209 David Chai 12 Ji Kang’s “On Dispelling Self-Interest”������������������������������������������������  229 David Chai 13 The Aesthetics of Musical Emotion in Ji Kang’s “Music has in It Neither Grief nor Joy”��������������������������������������������������������������  251 So Jeong Park 14 The Ontology of Change: Wang Bi’s Interpretation of the Yijing������  267 Tze Ki Hon 15 Language and Nothingness in Wang Bi������������������������������������������������  287 Eric S. Nelson 16 Metaphysics without Ontology: Wang Bi and the Daodejing��������������  301 Alan Fox Part IV  Xuanxue in the Jin Dynasty 17 Re-envisioning the Profound Order of Dao: Pei Wei’s “Critical Discussion on the Pride of Place of Being”����������������������������  325 Alan K.L. Chan 18 Metaphysics and Agency in Guo Xiang’s Commentary on the Zhuangzi����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  343 Chris Fraser 19 Lone-Transformation and Intergrowth: Philosophy and Self-Justification in Guo Xiang’s Commentary on the Zhuangzi����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  367 Yuet Keung Lo 20 Guo Xiang’s Theory of Sagely Knowledge as Seen in his “Essentials of the Analects”����������������������������������������������������������  393 Richard J. Lynn 21 Ge Hong and the Darkness ��������������������������������������������������������������������  411 Gil Raz

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22 Seeking Immortality in Ge Hong’s Baopuzi Neipian����������������������������  427 Fabrizio Pregadio 23 Ge Hong’s Evolving Discourse on You and Wu and its Roots in the Daodejing����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  457 Thomas Michael 24 The Xuanxue Lifestyle: Self-Cultivation and Qi Practices������������������  479 Livia Kohn 25 Zhi Dun on Freedom: Synthesizing Daoism and Buddhism ��������������  501 Ellen Y. Zhang Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  525

Contributors

David Chai  Department of Philosophy, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong Alan  K.L.  Chan  Provost Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong Paul D’Ambrosio  Center for Intercultural Research, East China Normal University, Shanghai, China Alan Fox  Department of Philosophy, University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA Chris Fraser  Department of Philosophy, The University of Hong Kong, Pok Fu Lam, Hong Kong Barbara  Hendrischke  China Studies Centre, University of Sydney, Mosman, NSW, Australia Tze Ki Hon  Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong Kong, Kowloon, Hong Kong Livia Kohn  Department of Religion, Boston University, Boston, Mass, USA Ronnie  Littlejohn  Department Nashville, TN, USA

of

Philosophy,

Belmont

University,

Yuet Keung Lo  Department of Chinese Studies, National University of Singapore, Singapore, Singapore Richard  J.  Lynn  Department of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada Alexus  McLeod  Philosophy and Asian/Asian-American Studies, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA Thomas Michael  School of Philosophy, Beijing Normal University, Beijing, China

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Contributors

Eric S. Nelson  School of Humanities & Social Sciences, Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Kowloon, Hong Kong So  Jeong  Park  Department of Korean Philosophy, Sungkyunkwan University, Seoul, South Korea Fabrizio  Pregadio  Institute of Sinology Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg Hartmannstr, Erlangen, Germany Gil Raz  Department of Religion, Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH, USA Jana  S.  Rošker  Department of Asian Studies, Faculty of Arts, University of Ljubljana, Ljubljana, Slovenia James  D.  Sellmann  Philosophy and Micronesian Studies, University of Guam, Mangilao, GU, USA Misha Tadd  College of Philosophy, Nankai University, Tianjin, China Ellen  Y.  Zhang  Department of Religion and Philosophy, Hong Kong Baptist University, Kowloon, Hong Kong

Chapter 1

Introduction David Chai

Literally translated, Xuanxue 玄學 (also known as Neo-Daoism) means to study or learn (xue 學) that which is mysterious, dark, or profound (xuan 玄)—in other words, Dao 道. In order to accomplish this, the figures associated with this movement worked with and built upon themes and arguments laid-out in the Daodejing 道德經, Zhuangzi 莊子, and Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經). These texts would come to be colloquially known as the “three texts of profundity” (san xuan 三玄) as evidenced in Yan Zhitui’s 顏之推 (ca. 531–597  CE) Family Instructions for the Yan Clan (Yanshi Jiaxun 顏氏家訓), specifically the “Encouraging Study” (mianxue 勉學) chapter which says: When we reach the Liang dynasty, the practice of elucidating Daoism once again flourished and the Zhuangzi, Laozi [i.e., Daodejing], and Zhouyi [i.e., Yijing] were collectively referred to as the “three texts of profundity.” Even Emperors Wu and Jianwen personally discussed and debated them.1

洎於梁世, 茲風復闡, 莊、老、周易, 總謂三玄。武皇、簡文, 躬自講論 (Wang 1993: 187).

Why, however, were these particular texts chosen and what was so special about them that scholars, officials, and the royal family felt compelled to read them? According to Yan Zhitui, it was because “the texts of Laozi and Zhuangzi were about preserving the genuine, nourishing one’s inborn nature, and preventing the things of the world from exhausting the self 夫老、莊之書, 蓋全真養性, 不肯以 物累己也” (Wang 1993: 186). As correct as Yan’s assessment is, Xuanxue thinkers

 Translations in this chapter are my own.

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D. Chai (*) Department of Philosophy, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_1

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were much more than mere admirers of Laozi, Zhuangzi, and the Classic of Changes; they were writers and artists in their own right. Not only did they pen original works of philosophy, religion, and poetry on topics related to physical and spiritual cultivation, music and aesthetics, cosmology and naturalism, morality and politics, and so forth, they were also skilled calligraphers, painters, and musicians. When it comes to deciding who is a proponent of Xuanxue, there are generally two views: the first believes that Xuanxue began in the Zhengshi 正始 era (240–249 CE) of Cao Fang 曹芳 (third emperor of the Wei 魏 dynasty (213–266 CE)), which was the time of He Yan 何晏 and Wang Bi 王弼, and ended in the Western Jin 西晉 dynasty (265–317 CE), the time of Pei Wei 裴頠 and Guo Xiang 郭象. The second view also holds that Xuanxue began in the Zhengshi era but sees its culmination occurring in the Eastern Jin 東晉 dynasty (317–420 CE), the time of Zhi Dun 支遁, Zhang Zhan 張湛, and Ge Hong 葛洪. It should be said that these two views are not definitive and their content changes depending on the person discussing them. For example, when the English translation of Feng Youlan’s History of Chinese Philosophy appeared in 1953, it had just two chapters on Xuanxue covering approximately sixty pages of text. Within these sixty pages, however, only Wang Bi, Liezi 列子, Xiang Xiu 向秀, and Guo Xiang were discussed. A decade later, Wing-Tsit Chan’s A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (1963) appeared but the space devoted to Xuanxue was even less than that in Feng’s book, a scant twenty pages dealing with He Yan, Wang Bi, and Guo Xiang. The next major work having content on Xuanxue would be Bo Mou’s History of Chinese Philosophy (2009). While classical Daoism was allotted two chapters, Xuanxue had to make do, yet again, with a twenty-page chapter on He Yan, Wang Bi, and Guo Xiang (Ruan Ji 阮籍 and Ji Kang 嵇康 are briefly discussed). Thankfully Alan Chan and Yuet Keung Lo would end this pattern with their two-volume anthology on early-medieval China (2010). In volume one, which was devoted to philosophy and religion, the usual suspects of He Yan, Wang Bi, and Guo Xiang appear, but the volume also includes chapters on Ji Kang, religious Daoism, Buddhism, and the theme of reclusion. Chinese-language studies have proven to be both more detailed and frequent than their English counterparts. Tang Yongtong’s 湯用彤 1957 work opened the floodgates for both historical surveys of Xuanxue as well as specialized monographs on individual thinkers. On the latter, Tang’s son, Tang Yijie 湯一介 (1983) published a work examining Guo Xiang’s connection to Xuanxue, which was followed by Yu Dunkang’s 余敦康 (1991) investigation of He Yan, and Pei Chuanyong’s 裴傳永 (2004) examination of Wang Bi.2 Regarding historical surveys, besides Tang Yongtong’s text, others of note are by Xu Hangsheng 許杭生 (1989), Zhao Shulian 趙書廉 (1992), Yu Dunkang 余敦康 (2004), Chen Pingyuan 陳平原 (2008), and Kang Zhongqian 康中乾 (2008). Xu Hangsheng’s book begins with the Zhengshi era and covers every major figure thereafter to the end of the Jin dynasty, including those belonging to Buddhism. 2  For philosophical studies in English on individual figures from the Wei-Jin period, see Chan (1991), Wagner (2000, 2003), and Ziporyn (2003); for works in French, see Holzman (1957). For literary studies, see van Gulik (1969), Holzman (1976), and Henricks (1983).

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Kang Zhongqian also takes this approach but in greater detail, making for a more satisfying read. Zhao Shulian, however, does not employ a chronological approach but offers thematically-oriented chapters instead. Chen Pingyuan’s work is a collection of short essays written by different scholars while Yu Dunkang’s text includes material not found in earlier studies, such as Wang Bi’s commentaries on the Classic of Changes and Analects, however, it lacks chapters on Xiang Xiu and Zhang Zhan. In other words, all of the aforementioned studies differ in scope and content, meaning readers must consult multiple texts to get a complete picture of Xuanxue. In order to avoid repeating this mistake, the Dao Companion to Xuanxue will do the following: first, it will shine a spotlight on texts from the later-Han (25–220 CE) that were either overtly Daoist (i.e., the commentaries of Heshanggong 河上公 and Xiang’er 想爾 on the Daodejing), or less obviously so (i.e., the Taipingjing 太平經, and parts of Wang Chong’s 王充 Lunheng 論衡); second, it includes chapters on thinkers from the Jin dynasty, such as Ge Hong, a name normally associated with the “religious” side of Daoism and the Buddhist monk Zhi Dun. While every effort has been made to include as many chapters as possible on the principal figures of Xuanxue (i.e., those from the Wei-Jin period), in some cases this was not feasible. Furthermore, while there are three chapters each for Wang Bi, Guo Xiang, and Ge Hong, but only two for He Yan, Ruan Ji,3 and Ji Kang,4 this should not be taken as evidence of the former group’s importance and the latter’s inferiority; rather, the topics and/or texts chosen for this Companion best represents the philosophical thought of that particular thinker. With regards to the inclusion of Han-era figures and texts, there can be little doubt that the arguments and ideas they developed allowed proponents of Xuanxue to read the Daodejing, Zhuangzi, and Classic of Changes with fresh eyes and whetted appetites. The presence of Huang-Lao 黃老 thought also played a role, especially when it comes to cyclical change, harmony between heaven and humanity, and the application of Yin-Yang 陰陽 and Five Agents (wuxing 五行) cosmology to bodily cultivation. That Xuanxue flourished for nearly two centuries not only testifies to the genius of the “three texts of profundity,” it is recognition of the contribution made by the Han gentry and scholars who read, preserved, and wrote the first  In addition to his essay on music (see Criddle 2007), Ruan Ji also wrote expository essays on the Classic of Changes, Daodejing, and Zhuangzi, but only the latter is included in this Companion. He also wrote a long and very well-known essay on the sage entitled “Biography of the Great Man” (Daren Xiansheng zhuan 大人先生傳), which does not appear in this Companion. For more on Ruan’s “Great Man” essay, see Liu 2004. For more on his essay on the Changes, see Liu 2006. As for Ruan Ji’s essay on the Daodejing, all that survives are three textual fragments consisting of 108 characters. See Chen 1987: 159–160. 4  English-speaking scholars have already produced a handful of studies on Ji Kang’s essay on music (see Egan 1997; Chai 2009; Middendorf 2010; Kang 2014; and Rošker 2014), and his essay on selfishlessness is discussed in this Companion. Ji Kang’s essay on nourishing life, while not included in this Companion, was examined in Chai 2017. Regarding his three remaining essays, English-speaking scholars have thus far ignored them. Of course, we are spoiled for choice when it comes to studies in Chinese. 3

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commentaries on said texts. Had said intellegentsia not served as intermediately agents and faciliators of pre-Qin Daoism, Xuanxue might not have amounted to anything more than pure exegesis and fanciful poetics. One possible reason why this did not happen has to do with a striking cluster of terms belonging to pre-Qin Daoism, terms that would greatly influence the philosophical, religious, literary, and aesthetic thought of Xuanxue when it comes to understanding Dao, the natural world, and the myriad things therein: non-being (wu 無), being (you 有), and oneness (yi 一). One would be right to argue there are other, equally pertinent concepts such as, virtue (de 德), naturalness (ziran 自然), non-­ deliberate action (wuwei 無為), transformation (hua 化), names and actualities (mingshi 名實), and so forth, all of which are discussed in this Companion, however, they do not carry the same fundamental weight as wu, you, and yi. Indeed, it is this triadic set, and their inseparability from and mutual dependency on Dao, that the entire enterprise of Xuanxue unfurls. It is owing to this that the present work has chosen to have all of its chapters touch upon or be guided by these three terms. Doing so not only distinguishes this Companion from other studies on Xuanxue, it lends it a methodological coherency that would otherwise be missing. In light of the fact that Xuanxue was not a formal school but a continuum of individuals5 interested in the same core texts and ideas, it would be more accurate to describe it as a lifestyle driven by a form of knowledge and bodily awareness that let its practitioners be persons of the world for the sake of world as opposed to their own selfish betterment. The chapters comprising this Companion are divided into four parts, the first of which deals with the background matters that will greatly assist our reading of the more specialized chapters that follow. Of the two chapters in Part I, the first by James Sellmann outlines the historical context in which Xuanxue arose and the biographical details and philosophical achievements of its proponents. Chapter 3 by Jana Rošker shows how Xuanxue thinkers scrutinized the connection between words and their meaning in order to lay bare the structural patterns of language and how these, in turn, influence our process of thinking. This evolution of earlier discourses on language seen in the Daodejing and Zhuangzi meant that Xuanxue could put the ineffable and apophatic nature of Dao into propositions that were less mystical and more onto-epistemological. By illuminating the co-dependency of words and the silence underlying them, their patterns and principles could be employed in new and far-reaching ways. Part II of this Companion contains five chapters on the texts and thinkers from the later-Han dynasty. Chapters 4 and 5 by Barbara Hendrischke offer a sustained and probing reading of a text rarely discussed in Chinese philosophy, let alone in the context of Xuanxue—the Scripture on Great Peace (Taipingjing). Examining the text’s use of Yin and Yang and its doctrine of self-cultivation via “retaining oneness,” Hendrischke provides a key piece in the developmental story of how

5  The clique known as the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove” (zhulin qixian 竹林七賢) is an obvious exception.

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body-­ cosmic harmony evolved from the rudimentary descriptions seen in the Daodejing and Zhuangzi to the richly detailed theories and practices spoken of in Xuanxue thinkers such as Ji Kang and Ge Hong. Chapter 6 by Misha Tadd investigates Heshanggong’s commentary on the Daodejing. Focusing on the concept of ziran, Tadd argues that Heshanggong extended it beyond Laozi’s original use by making it an essential and authoritative component of Dao. In doing so, Heshanggong created a system wherein the ruler gained his authority by embodying and enhancing ziran in the world. Any work on Xuanxue would be remiss if it did not include a chapter on the second great commentary on the Daodejing from the Han: the Xiang’er. Ronnie Littlejohn in Chap. 7 answers this need with a sophisticated and nuanced account of why the text is not concerned with establishing a political structure or ritual practices; rather, the Xiang’er commentary is a meditation on the Daodejing and serves as a guide for libationers on how best to improve their health and longevity, a topic of great interest to, yet again, Ji Kang and Ge Hong. Alexus McLeod takes us back to the concept of ziran in Chap. 8, demonstrating how it functioned in the thought of Wang Chong. Anyone familiar with Xuanxue knows that both Wang Bi and Guo Xiang developed ziran into something quite different from how Laozi and Zhuangzi originally envisioned it. What many people fail to realize is the role Wang Chong played in this conceptual transformation. According to McLeod, Wang minimized the role of purposive activity in the determination of life-outcomes based on allotment in order to clarify the inconsistencies between a thing’s effort and the outcome of said action. In doing so, Wang Chong turned ziran into a principle of development and activity tied to each thing’s nature, and it was this breakthrough that would hold sway over Wang Bi and Guo Xiang. With our examination of the Han era complete, Part III of this Companion marks the beginning of our discourse on thinkers from the Wei dynasty. Comprised of nine chapters, there are two each on He Yan, Ruan Ji, and Ji Kang, and three on Wang Bi. Chapter 9 by Paul D’Ambrosio looks at two fragmentary essays by He Yan: “On Dao” and “On the Nameless.” Brief as the source texts may be, they intricately weave thick references to the Daodejing and Analects to discuss namelessness, the sage, and Dao. What we will find is that He Yan was grappling with the very issues discussed in Jana Rošker’s chapter, that is, how can the sage expound upon Dao when the latter is nameless and beyond conventional modes of knowledge. Chapter 10 continues to examine the thought of He Yan, only now the source text is the Analects of Confucius. As Yuet Keung Lo deftly shows, He Yan’s role as co-editor of a volume of collected commentaries on the Analects was to produce a work of educational value by way of pedagogical usefulness and efficacy. In Lo’s words, He Yan and his editorial team sought to remove sectarian barriers that might have divided earlier commentators and avoid dictating subjective interpretations to the reader. The picture we get of He Yan from these two chapters is an individual fascinated with Daoism but ultimately unable to abandon his devotion to Confucianism. Moving on, the next two chapters are on the poetically reknowned but philosophically neglected figure of Ruan Ji. Chapter 11 by David Chai investigates a short essay Ruan wrote praising the Zhuangzi. As Chai shows, the majority of Ruan

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Ji’s essay is directly culled from the Zhuangzi; however, the way that Ruan reconstructed said material as a defense of the source text was quite ingenious. Written in a stylistic manner that would also be employed by Ji Kang, Ruan’s essay epitomizes the Xuanxue spirit with its robust argumentation, linguistic brilliance, and making a mockery of Confucianism without directly attacking Confucius. Ruan Ji’s love of music was also shared by his friend Ji Kang, the focus of the next two chapters. In Chap. 12, David Chai delves into the ethical aspect of Ji Kang’s thought with an analysis of his essay on how to be without self-interest. Briefly put, to be good is to lack self-interest, and to be morally open is to partake in the cosmological oneness of Dao. Conversely, to be bad is to cling to privation, and when things are reduced to the selfish level of humanity, injury and distance from Dao ensure. The key, Ji Kang says, is learning how to turn self-interest into openness and stop using things so that one may be morally transformed by Dao. Chapter 13 by So Jeong Park offers a new reading of Ji Kang’s famous essay on the emotionless content of music. According to Park, Ji Kang made it possible for later musical aesthetics to pay greater attention to the structure of music. Instead of simply dismissing emotions from musical discussions, Ji Kang argued we should uplift musical emotion from common feelings because doing so will increase our sensitivity to the world. Appreciating the natural harmony of music also serves as a lesson on how to attain physical harmony with the world, the benefit of which is a prolonged and healthy life. The three remaining chapters of Part III are devoted to Wang Bi. In Chap. 14, Tze-Ki Hon looks into Wang’s commentary on the Yijing. For Wang Bi, the hexagrams are pointers that direct us to something hidden and implicit, yet remain fundamental in time and space. Unlike early commentators who turned the Yijing into a dry system of signs, Wang Bi saw the text as a living picture of one’s surroundings wherein readers could determine the opportunities and limitations of a given situation for themselves. Eric Nelson in Chap. 15 investigates how Wang Bi exposed the sophisticated relationship between words, images, and meanings found in the Daodejing and Yijing, and the role nothingness plays in our subsequent need to forget them if we are to unite with Dao. Chapter 16 by Alan Fox also examines the role played by language, contending that Wang Bi’s emphasis on metaphysics have led European translators and commentators to favor an ontological reading of the Daodejing. To rectify the problems of inconsistency and incoherence that arise from this view, Fox offers a process reading of the text and Wang’s commentary in which Dao is presented as pluralistic, dynamic, and concrete. Part IV of this Companion is devoted to the Jin dynasty and contains nine chapters. Alan Chan in Chap. 17 provides us with an in-depth analysis of a short but influential essay by Pei Wei in which being holds priority over non-being, a reversal of the argument made earlier by Wang Bi. Indeed, Pei takes being to be a dynamic, as opposed to static, entity dependent on and subject to the influences of external conditions. This, Chan says, was his major contribution and it set Pei Wei against all other Xuanxue thinkers. The next three chapters all examine the Zhuangzi commentator Guo Xiang. Chapter 18 by Chris Fraser delves into Guo’s metaphysics of Dao and how this impacts human activity and agency. For Fraser, Guo Xiang holds a

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distinctive conception of the self and agency—and, accordingly, normatively appropriate action—on which self-fulfillment and freedom become consistent with his doctrine of non-mindedness. Another key aspect of Guo’s philosophical commentary is the concept of lone-transformation, the idea that each being in the universe is in charge of its own genesis and development, which Yuet Keung Lo makes the focus of Chap. 19. As Lo shows, however, lone-transformation is only realizable in the intergrowth among the myriad things, including the sage who merges and wanders therein. Chapter 20 by Richard J. Lynn examines the surviving fragments of what was Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Analects. As was the case for his Zhuangzi commentary, Lynn shows that Guo’s Analects commentary reads the source text as a political treatise. By promoting the sage-ruler in Daoist terms, Guo sought to use him as a catalyst for the regeneration of self and society, and the foundation of a worldly utopia. Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Analects thus advised the ruler, if not how to become a sage, then at the very least how to rule like one. Moving on, the next three chapters focus on Ge Hong who authored the Baopuzi. Gil Raz in Chap. 21 writes about the significance of xuan (dark, mystery) as the philosophical foundation for Ge Hong’s exploration of immortality. Indeed, Ge Hong linked the ontological premises of xuan to a series of epistemological implications, the most important being that true knowledge of xuan comes from embodying the cosmological principles found in practices of immortality. Seeking immortality is also the topic of Chap. 22 by Fabrizio Pregadio. Attaining immortality, Pregadio writes, depends on one’s destiny and is ultimately tied to the mandate of heaven. The purpose of Ge Hong’s teachings and practices on immortality are hence the means to fulfill one’s destiny. Thomas Michael in Chap. 23 analyzes Ge Hong’s inheritance of the concepts of being and non-being from the Daodejing. What resulted was the articulation of a systematic and theoretical foundation for the pursuit of longevity grounded in the techniques of life-nourishment and the methods of alchemy. Chapter 24 by Livia Kohn reveals how the longevity techniques first put forward in texts such as the Daodejing, Zhuangzi and the “neiye” chapter of the Guanzi, were employed by Xuanxue thinkers. Since a primary concern of Xuanxue is the cultivation of body and spirit, how one manages and refines one’s qi 氣 is crucial. However, the qi within the body is no different from that of the universe, thus by perfecting the techniques of retaining and strengthening qi one can then attain oneness with the things of the world and Dao. Of course, nourishing qi was not the only technique Xuanxue thinkers had at their disposal to conjoin in oneness with Dao, as earlier chapters in this Companion have shown. The final chapter of Part IV, and of this Companion, is Ellen Zhang’s account of the Buddhist thinker Zhi Dun and how his concept of freedom was modeled after that of the Zhuangzi. Said differently, Zhi Dun is arguing that Zhuangzi’s notion of spiritual fulfillment can be understood through the Buddhist idea of spiritual contemplation. Despite his affinity for Daoism, Zhi Dun did not lose sight of his Buddhist training and created a unique, syncretic vocabularly to accomodate both traditions. It is fitting that this Companion should end with a chapter on Zhi Dun. Not only would Buddhism represent a new phase in the development of China’s

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philosophical, religious, and cultural heritage, it would employ the conceptual language and imagery of Xuanxue as part of its early acclimatization to China. Given Xuanxue thinkers show a familiarity with the “three texts of profundity” that modern readers might not possess, reading this Companion in tandem with that edited by Liu Xiaogan (2015) on classical Daoism might prove beneficial. For those who already have a solid grounding in said tradition, there is no better place to learn about Xuanxue than the volume before you.

Bibliography Bo, Mou, ed. 2009. Routledge History of Chinese Philosophy. London: Routledge. Chai, David. 2009. “Musical Naturalism in the Thought of Ji Kang.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 8.2: 151–171. Chai, David. 2017. “Ji Kang on Nourishing Life.” Frontiers of Philosophy in China, 12.1: 38–53. Chan, Alan K.L. 1991. Two Visions of the Way: A Study of the Wang Pi and the Ho-shang Kung Commentaries on the Lao-Tzu. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chan, Alan K.L. and Yuet Keung Lo, eds. 2010. Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China; Interpretation and Literature in Early Medieval China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chen, Bojun 陳伯君. 1987. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on Ruan Ji’s Works 阮籍集 校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Chen, Pingyuan 陳平原. 2008. Research into Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學研究. Wuhan: Hubei Jiaoyu Chubanshe. Criddle, Reed. 2007. “Rectifying Lasciviousness through Mystical Learning: An Exposition and Translation of Ruan Ji’s “Essay on Music”.” Asian Music, 38.2: 44–70. Egan, Ronald. 1997. “The Controversy over Music and ‘Sadness’ and Changing Conceptions of the Qin in Middle Period China.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 57.1: 5–66. Feng, Youlan. 1953. A History of Chinese Philosophy. Translated by Derk Bodde. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Henricks, Robert G. 1983. Philosophy and Argumentation in Third-Century China: The Essays of Hsi K’ang. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Holzman, Donald. 1957. La Vie et la Pensée de Hi K’ang. Leiden: Brill. Holzman, Donald. 1976. Poetry and Politics: The Life and Works of Juan Chi (A.D. 210–263). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kang, Jiyeon. 2014. “Ji Kang’s Criticism of Confucian and Naturalistic Music Theory.” Acta Musicologica, 86.2: 159–176. Kang, Zhongqian 康中乾. 2008. Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Liu, Jinming 劉謹銘. 2006. “Research on Ruan Ji’s On Comprehending the Changes 阮籍〈通易 論〉 研究.” Huafan Journal of Humanities 華梵人文學報, 6: 1–31. Liu, Xiaogan, ed. 2015. Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. Liu, Yuanchi 劉原池. 2004. “The Self-Cultivated Ways of Perfect Characters in Mr. Daren’s Biography by Ruan Ji 阮籍 〈大人先生傳〉 中理想人格的修養方法.” Monthly Review of Philosophy and Culture 哲學與文化, 31.7: 147–161. Middendorf, Ulrike. 2010. “The Sage without Emotions: Music, Mind and Politics in Xi Kang.” In Alan K.L. Chan and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, 135–172. Albany: State University of New York Press. Pei, Chuanyong 裴傳永. 2004. Wang Bi and Wei-Jin Xuanxue 王弼與魏晉玄學. Jinan: Shandong Wenyi Chubanshe.

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Rošker, Jana. 2014. “Ji Kang’s Essay ‘Music Has in It neither Grief nor Joy’ and the Structure of Perception.” Philosophy East and West, 64.1: 109–22. Tang, Yijie 湯一介. 1983. Guo Xiang and Wei-Jin Xuanxue 郭象與魏晉玄學. Wuhan: Hubei Renmin Chubanshe. Tang, Yongtong 湯用彤. 1957. Draft Essays on Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學論稿. Beijing: Remin Chubanshe. van Gulik, R.H. 1969. Hsi K’ang and his Poetical Essay on the Lute. Tokyo: Sophia University. Wang, Liqi 王利器. 1993. Collected Explanations on Family Instructions for the Yan Clan 顔氏家 訓集解. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2000. The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on the Laozi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003. Language, Ontology, and Political Philosophy in China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Xu, Hangsheng 許杭生. 1989. History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學史. Xian: Shanxi Shifan Daxue Chubanshe. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康. 1991. New Explorations into the Xuanxue Thought of He Yan and Wang Bi 何晏王弼玄學新探. Jinan: Jilu Shushe. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康. 2004. History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學史. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Zhao, Shulian 趙書廉. 1992. Investigating Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學探微. Zhengzhou: Henan Renmin Chubanshe. Ziporyn, Brook. 2003. The Penumbra Unbound: The Neo-Taoist Philosophy of Guo Xiang. Albany: State University of New York Press. David Chai is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. He is the author of Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness (2019), and editor of Daoist Encounters with Phenomenology: Thinking Interculturally about Human Existence (2020). His works have appeared in a wide variety of journals and edited anthologies covering the fields of Chinese philosophy, metaphysics, phenomenology, hermeneutics, and comparative philosophy.

Part I

Background of Xuanxue

Chapter 2

Xuanxue’s Contributions to Chinese Philosophy James D. Sellmann

1  Introduction Xuanxue 玄學 prepared the way for later developments in Chinese philosophy, especially the blending and final amalgamation of Lao-Zhuang (i.e., Laozi 老子 and Zhuangzi 莊子) cosmological ideas and concepts into the later philosophical developments of the social, political and moral teachings of Kongzi 孔子 (Confucius), Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius), and their followers in Song dynasty (960–1279) Lixue 理學 (School of Patterned-Principles) or Neo-Confucianism. It drew from other Daoist sources and syncretized some alchemical and immortality practices with the Kong-­Meng self-cultivation arts. In addition to these practical techniques, Xuanxue is noted for bringing the art of abstraction to new heights in the development of Chinese philosophy (Feng 1983: 42). Xuanxue especially paved the way for later Song dynasty Lixue philosophers to absorb Lao-Zhuang transformational vital-­ breath (qi 氣) cosmology into their systems of thought, coupled with the implicit cosmology from the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經). Xuanxue philosophers opened a debate about the historical-dialectical relation between cherishing non-­ being (wu 無) and venerating being (you 有) that culminated in an historical synthesis of valuing “beyond non-being” (wuwu 無無). Xuanxue’s emphasis on non-being or beyond non-being, patterned-principles (li 理), original substance (benti 本體), and substance-functioning (tiyong 體用), established key concepts that reemerged in Chinese Buddhism and Song dynasty Lixue (Chan 1963: 318). The various philosophical masters of the Wei-Jin period continued the indigenous Chinese practice of synthesizing and unifying what are apparently diverse, or even divisive, teachings into coherent systems of thought while at the same time offering both abstract and

J. D. Sellmann (*) Philosophy and Micronesian Studies, University of Guam, Mangilao, GU, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_2

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practical teachings regarding “a more spiritual dimension” to navigate through the human condition (Kohn 2014: 4). Xuanxue unlike other Chinese philosophies took abstract inquiry into the fundamental questions of reality, ethics, epistemology, and logic to new heights. It also offers transformational practices to engage in, circumnavigate, or wander-freely (you 遊) around the natural-human realm. Generally Chinese philosophies are philosophical belief systems that offer pragmatic or practical techne for human flourishing, however such “flourishing” might be interpreted. Xuanxue continued and contributed to that practical approach to life and philosophy.

2  Setting the Stage for Xuanxue During the Eastern Han dynasty (25–220 CE), the economic and political structure changed with the institution of inherited government posts among the prominent families and the gentry class (menfa shizu 門閥士族), who were powerful political families that inherited and passed on government positions for generations. These economic and political changes created a new layer of social prestige with direct control of government offices. The prominent families with hereditary titles created a class divide even among the other gentry families who did not inherit political power, despite their wealth. Those with hereditary titles shared political power with the non-hereditary gentry by one of three methods. They provided a means for them to be appointed or selected for office. The successful sons of these less prestigious gentry families could be drafted (zhengpi 徵辟) for office or they could pass the civil service examination. The less prestigious families also intermarried with the families that held hereditary titles and gained power through their offspring. Usually the preferred method was to draft someone by making a special recommendation to the Emperor or high officials based on the recommended son’s moral fiber and standing in the community. The general idea was to select talented people, but often those selected or drafted had close family ties to the hereditary gentry, lacking real talent or morals. Because the drafting process was fraught with problems and corruption, a better method was needed. The person being drafted could not perform the duties of the office because the names or titles did not align with the realities of the job that needed to be accomplished or the draftee was incapable of doing the required work that the office demanded. During the Wei-Jin period (220–420 CE), warlords established and controlled their dynasties by working with the gentry and drafting gentry sons to operate their government agencies. Eventually as the Sui (581–618  CE) and Tang (618–907  CE) dynasties unified the empire, they turned more and more to appointment after examination to further dismantle the power held by the families with hereditary titles, and yet the gentry remained in power because it was primarily their sons who could sit for and pass the exams. During the Wei-Jin period, the Xuanxue philosophers came from these gentry families. The Eastern Han also saw the breakdown of the Western Han’s moral norms and ethical code. The norms and code became ossified into dogmatic forms of the doctrine of names (mingjiao 名教) and the code of ritual-action (lifa 禮法) (Chan 2009:

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317). The decline of morals challenged long held family values and basic humanity, leading to the breakdown of the family and even cannibalism. Wang Rong 王戎 (234–305 CE) classified people into one of three categories: sages, the gentry, and the common laborers (Feng 1983: 9). The gentry considered themselves to be the rightful inheritors of political and cultural power because they also considered themselves to be the top-notch, superior people by birth. In other words, “the gentry provided the class origin and social background for Xuanxue” (Feng 1983: 10).

3  P  hilosophical Predecessors to Xuanxue: Name and Reality and Evaluating Personnel As mentioned above, one of the perplexing issues in the Eastern Han was how to correctly appoint and evaluate government personnel. Wang Fu 王符 (ca. 79–165  CE) considered that comprehensively verifying names and their realities was crucial to founding the Great Peace (taiping 太平). He said: “The title must match the position of authority; describing a specific reason (li 理) must relate to reality. If this is practiced, then there will not be mere symbolic positions in officialdom, and the wrong people will not be in office” (from the “kaoji 考績” chapter in the Discourse on Recluses 濳夫論; Feng 1983: 12). The proper fit between the actual state of affairs in the world, especially political offices, and the language used to describe them was a concern of many pre-Qin philosophers who discussed the attunement or rectification of names (zhengming 正名), the proper fit between penalty-­punishment and name-title (xingming 刑名), form and name (xingming 形名), or name and reality (mingshi 名實). Although the concern about language and its proper fit and reference to reality was not new, nevertheless, the concern had lasting significance into the Wei-Jin period. The relationship between reality and how it is described strongly impacts the method of Xuanxue. In the Wei dynasty, Liu Shao 劉劭 (ca. 170–240) and Zhong Hui 鍾會 (225–264) offered their respective solutions to resolve the name and reality problem. Liu’s Treaties on People (Renwuzhi 人物志) classified people into three categories: the essential, the heroic, and those who simultaneously possessed both characteristics—the sage-ruler (Tang 2005: 4–5). He expands on these core traits by drawing from Yin-Yang 陰陽 and five agents (wuxing 五行) cosmological categories, denoting different personality types based on the different combinations of Yang-active and Yin-passive energy levels. He classified twelve personality types, ranging from pure moral-sentiment, to six types of people interested in managing government offices, to three types of intellectuals, debaters, and those who are heroic (Feng 1983: 19). A person with high quality essential characteristics could serve as prime minister; one with heroic traits could be a general. All of them have a deviant side to their personalities, opening the possibility for incompetence and corruption. The superior personality is the sage-ruler. The sage-ruler is the personality type that combines the essential and the heroic types being essential, intelligent or wise and

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extraordinary, and heroic or very courageous. In this way Liu Shao attempted to align the names or position titles with the reality of people’s personality types. Xuanxue philosophers discussed the characteristics and abilities of the sage in detail. After Liu Shao, the discussion turned to focus on talent and nature (caixing 才 性). Zhong Hui analyzed the four combinations of talent and nature in his work Discourse on the Four Fundamentals (Siben lun 四本論). First, talent and nature can be identical. Second, they can be different. Third, talent and nature can be united. Fourth, they can be separated. Nature refers to a person’s virtuous character, while talent refers to one’s capabilities. Zhong’s work is lost, and so other sources are used to attempt to reconstruct his perspective on how to match the descriptive name or title and the realities of human personality types. The works of Liu and Zhong are not philosophical, but they depict a shift from the Han dynasty focus on name and reality to the Wei-Jin focus on distinguishing names and analyzing patterned-principles (mingli 名理). What is important to note here is that the early Wei-Jin thinkers were breaking with Eastern Han practices, while forging a new path forward. As Feng Youlan notes, Xuanxue has roots in the opening chapter of the Daodejing 道德經 where four interrelated problematic issues are discussed, namely: (1) the gap between language and Dao 道; (2) the problem of describing particular things and the constant name (changming 常名); (3) being and non-being come from the same origin; and (4) they are named differently but have the same meaning (Feng 1983: 27). A new critical interpretation based on the texts by Laozi and Zhuangzi, as well as Yijing cosmology, focusing on how general names refer to specific instances begin the formation of Xuanxue philosophy. During the Wei-Jin period, some scholars of integrity withdrew from court and turned their attention to an apophatic philosophy of non-being to further remove themselves from court intrigue, engaging in “pure conversation” (qingtan 清談). Rejecting the popular scholasticism of the day, they studied the Classics from a new and creative perspective incorporating Lao-Zhuang cosmology (Chan 1963: 314). The debate between the New Text school and the Old Text school that centered around whether or not Confucius was the throneless king who would save the world through his subtle teachings, inspired critical inquiry and creative, independent, philosophy (Chan 1963: 315). Xuanxue’s emphasis on non-being, patterned-principles, original substance, and substance-functioning, established modes of thought that reemerged in later Chinese Buddhism and Song dynasty Lixue (Chan 1963: 318). This is another way of describing Xuanxue’s break with Han scholarship, forging a new creative interpretation of the cultural teachings of human navigation through the reality of the natural and social worlds.

4  Confucius as a Deified Sage Michael Puett (2017) contends that Xuanxue philosophers proposed a revised vision of the sage. Instead of focusing only on the sage Confucius as the creator of the Spring and Autumn Annals (Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋), they focus on the sage

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Confucius as the spontaneous teacher who effectively generates an atmosphere or mood for his disciples to emulate. To the extent that the Zhuangzi, especially based on a selective reading of the first two passages of chapter 4 (renjianshi 人間世) and other selective passages from the Outer and Miscellaneous chapters, set the stage for Xuanxue, we can see how the positive images of Confucius as sage in the Zhuangzi predisposed Xuanxue thinkers to this view of Confucius as a spontaneous sage-teacher. The early developments of what would become Chinese imperial-court and popular-­folk religions were taking root in the later part of the Zhou dynasty, especially the Eastern Zhou (770–256  BCE), namely in the Spring and Autumn (722–481  BCE) and the Warring States (480–221  BCE) periods. Despite later attempts to delineate different ways of life or different religio-philosophies, the amalgamating, syncretic, comprehensive and cumulative character of what I am calling Chinese Imperial Religion and also Chinese Folk Religion both embraced ancestor veneration with apotheosis or the deification of great ancestors, such as Confucius, Laozi, the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi 黄帝), the Queen Mother of the West (Xiwangmu 西王母) and other figures. Both the Imperial and Folk Religions were mixed with nature veneration, dietary-health-hygiene-gymnastic-meditation practices, ritual, magic and other practices and beliefs. There is a “comprehensive harmony” (he 和), a unity of opposites and acceptance of a multiplicity of perspectives that is found throughout the history of Chinese philosophy, literature, cultural practices and beliefs. Kirill Thompson (1990), using the harmony of aesthetic order, comes to a similar conclusion that there is a unity of multiple ideas at play in the Zhuangzi. The Zhuangzi and its use of Confucius, especially where it depicts him in a positive manner, as a master of the proper way to live, accomplishes an important role in the deification of Confucius, and the amalgamating syncretic character of the later development of imperial and folk religion in China where Confucius is the sage of sages, the teacher of teachers, master of masters, the saint of saints, a Buddha or Bodhisattva. The Zhuangzi’s use of Confucius influences the philosophers who present him as the highest sage, as one who even depicts and embodies the values of Laozi and Zhuangzi in a superior, more lived manner than they themselves were able to do. Despite the Zhuangzi passages and other sources that ridicule Confucius, his image as a deified sage-god was inspired by the positive images of him depicted in the Zhuangzi and other sources.

5  Xuanxue Philosophy Despite the diversity of Xuanxue philosophers, they share a general love for pure conversation or debate about philosophical concepts and terminology. Most of them favor Laozi or Zhuangzi, and Yijing cosmology (Yu 2016; Tang 2005; Feng 1983). Many of them exhibit an antinomian spirit and a Zhuangzian love for humor that embraces a non-dual logic and outlook on life. They seek to syncretize the differences between Confucius’ proactive self-cultivation of the moral virtues with the

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effortless, and apparent purposeless, free-flowing “practices” or behavior patterns exhibited by certain characters in the Zhuangzi. It is often pointed out that the character xuan 玄 of Xuanxue is derived from the opening chapter of the Daodejing. Let us briefly review that text and a passage from chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊) of the Zhuangzi, to elucidate the roots of the meaning of Xuanxue, and its approach to elucidating Dao. Rather than attempt to give a translation based on the original meaning of the text, let me try to read the ancient sources through the eyes of Wei-­ Jin philosophers because this is a matter of hermeneutic intertextuality (Swartz 2018: 20–40). Land and sea trade routes had long been transporting products and ideas from foreign lands such that the Chinese intellectuals understood that other cultures had terms for their respective concepts of ultimate reality or divine creator. Xuanxue philosophers knew that they too needed to define their ultimate reality or be outdone by the foreigners. They turned to the ancient concept of Dao as an indigenous root-concept for their ultimate reality. How to interpret this fundamental concept was the perennial question in China. The opening chapter of the Daodejing reads: The Dao that is talked about is not the absolute Dao. The names that are named are not the absolute name. Non-being names the origin of sky and earth. Being names the mother of all things. Therefore, sometimes remove your passions to see the secret of life; sometimes embrace your passions to see the manifestations. These two (non-being or the passionless-­ secret, versus being or the passionate-manifestations) are (in their natures) the same; they are given different names when they become manifest. They may both be called the cosmic mystery (xuan); reaching from the mystery into the deeper mystery (xuan) is the gate to the secret of all life (Lin 2014: 2–4; translation modified).

道可道, 非常道。名可名, 非常名。無名天地之始; 有名萬物之母。故常無欲, 以 觀其妙; 常有欲, 以觀其徼。此兩者, 同出而異名, 同謂之玄。玄之又玄, 衆妙之門.

The Daodejing is intriguing in that its poetic style is vague, profound, and opens the imagination to various readings. In the opening poem the ultimate reality is named Dao, and yet its name and all names are readily identified as being inadequate in a dynamic living world of flux and transformations. Names cannot keep up with the rapid changes, transformations, the identity of the various particulars among myriad things shifts, and the whole of nature as the sky and earth is in flux. In Laozi’s correlative thinking, or non-dual logic, being and non-being are locked in a dialectic relationship, and so the human perspective or cognition is also locked into the constant flux between eliminating the passions and embracing them, of having and not having, seeing and not seeing, understanding and not understanding. This worldview is a type of naive realism based on processional transformations filtered through correlative non-dual logic in the form of Yin-Yang classification categories. The correlations align non-being with the passionless secret and being aligns with the passions and manifestations or the objects that become manifest to our consciousness once we begin to have desires. The correlative, interlocking opposites (being and non-being, having passions and being passionless, being manifest and not being manifest, the ultimate secret and the obvious) are one and the same all-­ embracing ultimate reality, but they are merely given different, inadequate names. If people can grasp the non-dual logic, or experience the passionless, empty, state of awareness, then the mystery of mysteries opens the gate to the secret of all life. To

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do this, people have to enter an apophatic meditative state of inner peace and emptiness, or they can penetrate the experience of abstract, correlative, non-dual logic. Religio-philosophically speaking, they venerate non-being as the ultimate, allencompassing reality. Another way to think about this is that, at first glance, from the perspective of categories, there are things and all things fall into the larger category of myriad things (wanwu 萬物). The myriad things are contained within the category of “sky and earth” (tiandi 天地)—the physical, material reality. “Being” is a synonym, or another general, all-encompassing category, that incorporates all things. Is there another larger-scale, abstract, universal category that can include or encompass being? Many mainstream philosophies argue that only Being or God, that is God-­ as-­Being, can be Real. The ancient Greek Atomists, Christian via negativa advocates like Nicolas of Cusa, the early Upanishad-Hindus, the Buddhists, and the Daoists argue that non-being, variously conceived as the Void, non-substantial (absolute) God, Ultimate Reality without any characteristics, Emptiness, and wu 無, is the higher abstract category that encompasses being and the sensible, material world. That is to say, non-being is the Really Real Reality. This higher abstract non-­ being is not the mere absence of a thing or the absence of all things; it is conceived as a non-dual logical attempt to find the highest, universal, abstraction that the human mind can conceive to name as a placeholder or null-set for the Ultimate Reality or godhead. This is variously conceived as hitting the limits of language and thought, the ineffable, the inconceivable, the most abstract source of sources, the godhead beyond god itself, the abstract reality beyond physical-reality. It cannot be perceived by the sense-organs, but it can be experienced in dreamless sleep and altered states of consciousness such as apophatic meditation. The abstract concept of non-being is discoverable, experienceable in a sense, in human consciousness by meditation, dreamless sleep and higher order abstraction; people can gain a quickly fading glimpse of “It.” In this sense, these philosophers are proposing that non-­ being is a more encompassing category than being itself. This is another way to attempt to grasp the meaning of Laozi’s and early Xuanxue’s focus on non-being. Whether they focus on being or non-being, early Xuanxue thinkers argue there is a higher, abstract reality that is beyond and, in some sense, generates and controls the lower categories and things of the natural world. However, later thinkers, such as Guo Xiang, counter this kind of externalist, transcendental view, and deploy an immanentalist, internalist view that grounds reality in the particulars of this world. The correlative non-dual thinking about the Ultimate Reality that underlies Laozi’s poetic philosophy is also found in the Zhuangzi. In chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知 北遊), there is an insightful dialogue between four fictitious characters named Ether, Infinite, No-action, and No-beginning about how (not) to talk about Dao. The passage reads: So, Ether asked Infinite, “Do you know Dao?” “I do not know it,” replied Infinite. Ether asked No-action the same question and he replied, “I know Dao” … “I know that Dao can be high, or low, can be congealed, or dispersed. These are some of the specifications that I know.” Ether told No-beginning what No-action had said, and asked, “So, Infinite says he does not know, and No-action says he knows. Who is right?” “The one who thinks he does

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J. Sellmann not know is profound. The one who thinks he knows is shallow. The former deals with the inner reality, the latter with appearance.” Ether sighed while raising his head, “Then the one who (thinks he) does not know really knows, and the one who (thinks he) knows really does not know. Who knows this knowledge without knowing (or who [thinks he] knows this knowledge without [thinking he is] knowing it)?” No-beginning replied, “Dao is not heard, what is heard is not Dao. Dao is not seen, what is seen is not Dao. Dao cannot be told; what is told is not Dao. Do you realize that which is invisible in all the visible things? Dao should not be named. If someone answers in reply to a question about Dao, he does not know Dao. Even the one who asks about Dao has not heard Dao. Dao cannot be asked about, and for the question (about it) there is no answer. To ask questions which cannot be answered is to fail to recognize the inner reality. If then those who do not recognize the inner reality try to answer questioners who land in extremities, such people have neither observed the workings of the sky and earth, nor do they realize the Ultimate Source. Therefore, they cannot surmount Kunlun Mountain or travel in the realm of the Great Void (Lin 2014: 3–4; translation modified).

於是泰清問乎無窮曰: 子知道乎? 無窮曰: 吾不知。又問乎無為。無為曰: 吾知道 ⋯⋯ 無為曰: 吾知道之可以貴, 可以賤, 可以約, 可以散。此吾所以知道之數也。 泰清以之言也問乎無始, 曰: 若是, 則無窮之弗知, 與無為之知, 孰是而孰非乎? 無 始曰: 不知深矣, 知之淺矣; 弗知內矣, 知之外矣。於是泰清中而歎曰: 弗知乃知 乎! 知乃不知乎!孰知不知之知? 無始曰: 道不可聞, 聞而非也; 道不可見, 見而非 也; 道不可言, 言而非也。知形形之不形乎? 道不當名。無始曰: 有問道而應之者, 不知道也。雖問道者, 亦未聞道。道無問, 問無應。無問問之, 是問窮也; 無應應 之, 是無內也。以無內待問窮, 若是者, 外不觀乎宇宙, 內不知乎太初, 是以不過乎 崑崙, 不遊乎太虛.

It is this kind of thinking by the followers of Zhuangzi that set the Xuanxue thinkers on their path of trying not to talk about the ultimate reality, Dao, or when they did talk about it, to do so in such a manner so as not to appear totally ignorant because they had attempted to talk about it! Their approach is first and foremost a rational method of linguistic and literary analysis of “differentiating names and analyzing patterned-principles” (bianming xili 辯名析理) (Feng 1983: 33). The exception to this generalization is the non-rational direct experience approach found in the poets and Liu Ling’s “arriving at comprehension” discussed below.

6  The Philosophers’ Contributions With the above brief exposure to the background that influenced Wei-Jin period thinkers, let us turn to the specific contributions offered by the leading proponents of Xuanxue. Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) and He Yan 何晏 (d. 249 CE) lived at the beginning of the Wei dynasty during the Zhengshi 正始 reign period, marking an initial stage in the development of Xuanxue philosophy, sometimes referred to as Zhengshi Xuanxue. They began a new approach to studying the Classics, breaking away from Han scholasticism, by creating fresh interpretations of the Analects (Lunyu 論語), Yijing, and the Daodejing. The Tang court made He Yan’s commentary on the Analects, and Wang Bi’s commentary on the Yijing, the official standard

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commentaries to be studied for the civil service exams, and their study of the Daodejing and the Tang Emperor’s belief that he descended from Laozi’s Li-familylineage led to the Daodejing and Zhuangzi being included on the examination system’s list of required readings. Wang and He both studied the Daodejing, and both cherished (gui 貴) non-being. Because there is a religious viewpoint underlying their philosophical perspectives, I prefer to use terms like “cherish or venerate” (terms close to “worship”) rather than “value or esteem.” Note that the expression “cherish non-being” (guiwu 貴無) is used to describe Wang’s and He’s outlook in the “Biography of Wang Yan 王衍” in the History of the Jin 晋書 (Feng 1983: 48). In a sense they are presenting Dao as non-being, to be the ultimate reality or impersonal godhead. This marks the initial assertion, the thesis if you will, in the historical dialectic development of non-being, followed by Pei Wei’s 裴頠 (267–300 CE) veneration of being (chongyou 崇有) as the anti-thesis, and finally Guo Xiang’s 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE) synthesis by “moving beyond non-being” via a double negation (i.e., wuwu 無無) in the development of Xuanxue philosophy. First a look at He Yan’s position. It reads in He Yan’s Discourse on Dao (Dao lun 道論): Being qua being is engendered by relying on non-being. An affair qua that very affair is completed (by originating) from non-being. If something is beyond speech while it is being spoken of it, beyond description while being described, beyond form while being observed, or beyond sound while being listened to, then Dao is complete in it. Hence vital-breath (qi 氣) and things are manifest after being able to make the sound and the echo obvious; light and shadow are clear while color and form are made spiritual. [As a consequence,] the darkness (xuan 玄) becomes black by it; the pure silk becomes white by it; the T-squareruler scrutinizes the square by it; the compass scrutinizes the circle by it. Both the circle and the square obtain their forms, but they are derived from the formless; both black and white obtain their descriptions (names, ming 名) but they are beyond description.

有之為有, 恃無以生; 事而為事, 由無以成。夫道之而無語, 名之而無名, 視之而無 形, 聽之而無聲, 則道之全焉。故能昭音向而出氣物, 包形神而章光影; 玄以之黑, 素以之白, 矩以之方, 規以之員。員方得形而此無形, 白黑得名而此無名也 (Feng 1983: 48).

Wang Bi explained it more clearly in the following: As for the cause by which a thing is produced and merit is accomplished, they must be engendered by what is beyond form and from what is beyond description. What is beyond form and what is beyond description are the ancestor of the myriad things. Neither warm nor cold, neither a high gong tone nor a low shang tone, it cannot be heard while listening to it; it cannot a seen while looking at it; it cannot be felt while touching it; and it cannot be sensed while tasting it … Hence covering and penetrating heaven and earth; nothing is not a master; it is able to become the ancestor of the things in categories. If something is warm, then it cannot be [simultaneously] cold; if a sound is a high gong tone, then it cannot be [simultaneously] a low shang tone. Any form certainly has that which gives it its identity (fen 分, allotment); there must be that to which sounds belong to (that is, the scale of tones). Hence the form of any particular phenomenon (xiang 象) will not be the greatest phenomena; any sound in a particular tone will not be the greatest tone. However, if the four phenomena (sixiang 四象) do not take shape, then the greatest phenomenon will not be easily accessible. If the five tones are not sounded, then the greatest tone will not be obtained. If things do not have a master (that is, are not in a category of Yin or Yang) while the four

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夫物之所以生, 功之所以成, 必生乎無形, 由乎無名。無形無名者, 萬物之宗也。 不溫不涼, 不宮不商。聽之不可得而聞, 視之不可得而彰, 體之不可得而知, 味之 不可得而嘗 ⋯⋯ 故能為品物之宗主, 苞通天地, 彌使不經也。若溫也則不能涼 矣, 宮也則不能商矣。形必有所分, 聲必有所屬。故象而形者, 非大象也; 音而聲 者, 非大音也。然則, 四形不象, 則大象無以暢; 五音不聲, 則大音無已至。四象形 而物無所主焉, 則大象暢矣; 五音聲而心無所適焉, 則大音至矣 (Feng 1983: 49; Yu 2016: 133–134).

From these two passages we can see how He and Wang attempted to explicate the higher abstraction of non-being as a kind of plenum-void, an esoteric way of talking about the ultimate reality or ultimate source for the material world by approaching what is beyond sensation and beyond the ordinary usage of terms. The description of that which exists beyond sensation reminds us of chapter 14 of the Daodejing. The above passage fits with Laozi’s claim that “the myriad things of the world are generated from being and being is generated from non-being” (chapter 40). This interpretation of non-being opens a spiritual dimension for self-cultivation. When the heart-mind (xin 心) is empty, Dao dwells within, the practitioner directly experiences the ultimate reality, having a panenhenic—all in one, one in all—experience. In this way “non-being” is used to name the unnamable to discuss what cannot be directly discussed as both cosmological and self-cultivation concepts. He Yan and Wang Bi had to discuss the role of the indescribable (wuming 無名) and the relationship between the abstract generalization and the concrete particular. Above I translated the third line of the opening chapter of the Daodejing as “non-­ being names the origin …”; the expression wuming can and has been read as “nameless is the origin” or “there is no name for the origin,” and it is also read as “non-being names,” or “non-being is the name.” Wang and He were likely to have read this line in both ways as the nameless and the name called “non-being,” or “the nameless non-being.” This creates a paradox in that calling it “nameless” is to give it a name. In his essay, entitled Discourse on Beyond Naming (Wuming lun 無名論), He Yan argued that, “if we say that being beyond a name (wuming) is Dao, and that being beyond reputation is the greatest reputation, then wuming can be said to be an a-describable-name, and being beyond having a reputation can be said to have a reputation. However, will this not function the same as having a reputation and having an a-describable-name?” (Feng 1983: 51; Yu 2016: 86). This is not a mere semantic word game. It is an attempt to make an abstract difference between a specific example and a more encompassing generalization. This level of being-beyond-­ name and being-beyond-reputation functions differently than being nameless or reputationless. As He Yan explained, “this is comparable to there is nothing, then there is everything. Among ‘there is everything,’ it should entail ‘there is nothing,’ and this is different from (the common expression) ‘there is everything’” (Fang 1981: 52; Yu 2016: 86). Being beyond description is a type of description. Dao is beyond description hence Dao can be described by any particular-thing. A particular example is used to designate the general category, yet those specific descriptions or

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names will not describe all of it. This is best explained by appealing to correlative thinking just as Yin and Yang are mutually intertwined and codependent such that one of them cannot exist without the other. So too are the namable and the unnamable, the general and the specific, being and non-being, and vice versa. Thus, the unnamable stands in for a name, the specific stands in for the general, non-being represents being, and vice versa. Wang Bi was the first philosopher to introduce the substance-functioning (tiyong 體用) concept. Tiyong was appealed to often in later Chinese Buddhist and Neo-­ Confucian texts. The concept had been taken to refer to two different aspects of an object, until Charles Muller’s analysis, which puts them together in a non-dual frame, as one complex structural-functioning operation (Muller 2016: 119–120). Scholars who advocate the binary view note that Wang Bi did not write consistently about this concept. If we follow the view that the essential substance is different from the operational functioning, then a charitable reading would propose that the non-being-Dao is the original substance (benti 本體) and the myriad things are its functioning. To put it another way, non-being is the substance and being is the functioning (Feng 1983: 55). But this old interpretation is based on a misunderstanding of the correlative, non-dual, structural-functioning complex of each entity or concept. It is clear that Wang and others wanted to maintain a non-dual complex structural-­functioning process because in his commentary on Daodejing chapter 11, Wang claims that “non-being is the function” and that “when one speaks of non-­ being, one still admits that something in being is the means to gain benefit, but all of this constitutes functioning by relying on non-being” (Feng 1983: 55). Wang makes a similar claim that non-being is functioning in his commentary on chapter 38 (see below). If we appeal to correlative non-dual thinking, the apparent problem dissolves itself; just as non-being and being implicate each other and are synonymous, so too are substance/structure and function/functioning implicating and interpenetrating each other. The unification of the structural-functional complex still fits well with Muller’s proposal that tiyong “is a distinctive Sinitic archetypical concept” used in Daoism, Buddhism and Confucianism with ancient roots in the non-­ dual logic of pre-Qin philosophy and Han Yin-Yang thinking (Muller 2016: 114). Tiyong applies to complex operational-entities of reality and cognition. Wang Bi contributed to social and moral aspects of human life and society in terms of the general and the particular (Wagner 2003: 121 and 153ff). Wang saw the individual as a member of the human species, that is, a person is a member of the category of the myriad things within the category of sky and earth. Dao is the ancestor of sky, earth and the myriad things; de 德 (instantiated power) is the ancestor of particular creatures through which they embody Dao. Wang Bi’s commentary on chapter 38 shows how humans are to live in harmony by accepting their specific place in the larger scheme of Dao. He says: The term “instantiated power” means “to attain.” Constantly obtaining without any loss is beneficial without any harm. Hence it takes the term “instantiated power” as its name. How to obtain instantiated power? It comes from Dao. How to completely fulfill instantiated power? People should take non-being as their function. If people can take non-being as their function, then no one will not be supported. Hence toward things if people treat them by

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J. Sellmann depending on non-being, then nothing will not be managed. If people treat them by depending on being, then it is not sufficient to avoid their problems of life. Therefore, no matter how vast sky and earth are, they take non-being as their heart-mind; no matter how great the sage kings are, they take being-vacuous as their major principle … Hence if people can eliminate their selfish-biases and ignore their lives, then none within the four seas won’t look up to them, and none among the distant or near will not come to them. If they make themselves special and possess selfish-biased heart-minds, then they cannot even preserve their own bodies; their muscles and bones cannot tolerate each other. This is why people of superior instantiated power know that Dao is what they should use. They never consider their instantiated power to be their power. They never hold fast and never use deliberate application. Hence they can be of instantiated power and nothing is not done by them. They will obtain without seeking, and they will accomplish without acting. Hence although they have instantiated power, nevertheless, they do not have the name of power.

德者, 得也。常得而無喪, 利而無害, 故以德為名焉。何以得德? 由乎道也。何以 盡德? 以無為用, 以無為用則莫不載也。故物無焉則無物不經, 有為則不足以免 其生。是以天地雖廣, 以無為心; 聖王雖大, 以虛為主 ⋯⋯ 故滅其私而無其身, 則 四海莫不瞻, 遠近莫不至; 殊其己而有其心, 則一體不能自全, 肌骨不能相容。是 以上德之人, 唯道是用, 不德其德, 無執無用, 故能有德而無不為。不求而得, 不為 而成, 故雖有德而無德名也 (Feng 1983: 67).

For Wang the problems of human social life are rooted in people’s selfishness by extracting themselves from the comprehensive energy flow of Dao and de. If they merge with the energy flow and act according to the natural process of life by assimilating with the general processes that their particular person is part-and-parcel of, they would live in perfect harmony and everything would go “their way,” that is, things would unfold the way they are supposed to unfold according to Dao, not according to people’s artificial selfish-desires. Wang and He debated whether the sages have affections. This topic was and still is hotly debated. During the Wei-Jin period many intellectuals held the view that the sages, being unique and vacuous, were beyond or without the experience of basic human emotions or affections, that is, the sages do not experience pleasure, anger, sorrow or joy. He Yan held this view that the sages did not have the basic human affections, that the worthy officials experienced pleasure, anger, sorrow and joy in a controlled manner, while the commoners who are motivated by selfish desires could not control their inappropriate experience and expression of their affections. His view was fairly common among the intellectuals of the day. In his youth Wang Bi also held this view, but later he changed his mind. Wang came to recognize that because the sages are human beings, they must also share natural-innate human characteristics (ziran zhi xing 自然之性) such as these basic human affections. For Wang’s later thinking, it is because the sages are wise and on a higher level of spiritual attainment, that is they are enlightened, that the sage’s expression and experience of the affections are different from those of common people. The sage remains calm when encountering worldly phenomena because they are able to “penetrate into non-being by embodying vacuity and harmony” (Feng 1983: 73). Sages can properly attune their affections according to patterned-principles. As living humans, they respond to worldly phenomenon without being emotionally affected by them. For example, life and death are natural phenomenon and sages accept them for what they are, hence they do not rejoice in life or mourn death. They flow with the

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patterned-­principles and remain calm. Song-Ming scholars also debated whether sages experience the affections. Ji (or Xi) Kang 嵇康 (223–262 CE) and Ruan Ji 阮籍 (210–263 CE) continue the first stage of Zhengshi Xuanxue, concentrating more on the social, moral, spiritual aspects of self-cultivation than cosmology, and bring the Zhuangzi into the field of study. They were good friends and poets (Owen and Swartz 2017: 13). Ruan Ji allegedly died of grief when he learned that Ji Kang had been executed. They solidify the image of the Xuanxue philosophers engaging in pure conversation in the Bamboo Grove (zhulin 竹林). Importantly they help transform the Han emphasis on Huang-Lao Daoism to Xuanxue’s focus on Lao-Zhuang Daoism, reshaping Daoist thought from a Han political focus to a cosmological and self-­cultivation emphasis. Ji Kang argued against the old doctrines of the School of Names, while advocating for a return to self-so spontaneity (ziran 自然) as an initial stage of entering a spiritual form of self-cultivation. He is known for views on nourishing life (yangsheng 飬生) drawing from the Zhuangzi, and the Daoist practices of his time (Henricks 1983: 10). Ji Kang develops another form of Xuanxue: spirituality of “the heart-­ mind not violating Dao.” In his essay entitled the Discourse on Dispelling Self-­ interests (Shisi lun 釋私論), he reframes the ideal of the Confucian gentleman or exemplary person (junzi 君子) into a sublimely-transforming person (zhenren 真 人) by proposing that these consummate people can remove themselves from the artificial restrictions of the school of names and ritual action. Ji Kang seems to be echoing a passage from chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師) of the Zhuangzi (Ziporyn 2009: 47). He says: When perseverance and preferences are not preserved in their heart-minds, hence they can surpass the doctrine of names and entrust their self-so [spontaneous nature]. When their affections are not tied to their desires, hence they can cautiously examine veneration and baseness and penetrate the affections of others. Because the affections of others are compliant and penetrating, hence the great Dao will not be violated. Because they surpass names and entrust their [spontaneous] heart-mind, hence right and wrong have no place [in their heart-mind] (Henricks 1983: 21–30).

矜尚不存乎心, 故能越名教而任自然; 情不繫於所欲, 故能審貴賤而通物情。物 情順通, 故大道無違; 越名任心, 故是非無措也 (Feng 1983: 77–78).

For Ji Kang, dispelling self-interest is a matter of people’s internal motivation. If they put on a public face and comply with social expectations to merely comply, then they are selfish and not public-spirited. If they have the correct frame of mind of detachment that complies with Dao, then they are actually free of self-interest and the most public-spirited. Hence he himself was noted for not complying with social expectations, behaving in a free and spontaneous manner. Ruan Ji’s philosophy is primarily contained in two essays: Account of the Great Man (Daren Xiansheng zhuan 大人先生傳) depicts the lifestyle of the sublimely-­ transforming person, and Discourse on Comprehending the Zhuangzi (Da Zhuang lun 達莊論). In Account of the Great Man, Ruan Ji sets up a parody of three successive conversations that depict his position. The great man uses the label of the self-realizing or utmost person (zhiren 至人) from the Zhuangzi. The utmost person dwells between the sky and earth without attachment to a specific location. In

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merging with nature, he is not bound by social conventions and so is beyond passing judgment about right and wrong, or good and bad. He has no preferences, living a free and detached life. Yet the great man is not a hermit; he engages the socialpolitical life from a different perspective. The utmost person even goes beyond the contingencies of the natural world, even life and death, entering a spiritual realm, returning to the primordial Dao beyond change and time. He did not discuss nonbeing however; he wrote about what is beyond the external (wuwai 無外), beyond the cosmos. In Discourse on Comprehending the Zhuangzi, Ruan Ji presents a cosmogony in which ziran generates the sky and earth, which in turn generate and contain the myriad things. The myriad things are in a sense contained within the sky and the earth. So, in a similar sense of this spatial metaphor, ziran is beyond or outside of them. This clarifies what it means to be “beyond the external.” Dao as ziran is a higher realm beyond the sky and the earth. The myriad things are contained within them and taken as a complete whole form “one substance” (yiti 一體), that is, a basic essential unity. The composite nature or essential unity of the myriad things is the dominate theme of Comprehending the Zhuangzi (Feng 1983: 104). Human beings are generated along with the myriad things and they too are part-and-parcel of the essential unity. The human spirit (shen 神) becomes the governing factor of the cosmos (Feng 1983: 105). When it comes to Pei Wei 裴頠 (267–300  CE), we can say he had extensive knowledge of medicine, and his father was an early geographer and cartographer, which gave him a proto-scientific background and outlook. Being politically engaged and not withdrawing from office like the sages of the Bamboo Grove, he was eventually killed by the king of Zhao, Sima Lun 司馬倫. Pei Wei wrote an essay entitled Discourse on Venerating Being (Chongyou lun 崇有論), which forms the anti-thesis phase in Xuanxue’s historical development. He vehemently opposed the popular trend of the day established by Wang Bi and He Yan concerning the cherishing of emptiness and non-being. Although he opposed the idea of non-being as the highest category, nevertheless, he still appealed to the basic method of Xuanxue, namely, distinguishing names and analyzing patterned-principles, and his view still advocates an all-encompassing, external cause for things. His Discourse opens with an analysis of various terms that are paraphrased in the following: The integrated and chaotic root of the multitude of existence is the ancestral and utmost Dao. Things are differentiated according to various categories. The essential nature of life is derived from the phenomenon of their physical form. Patterned-principles originate from the mix of complex transformations. Things inherit specific characteristics based on their categorical group. Things must depend on external factors because their specific character cannot be self-sufficient. The things that are exploited to sustain life are referred to as patterned-­principles. The essential-substance of patterned-principles is referred to as being. The necessities of being are called resources. Resources possess a complex unity referred to as meaningful-appropriateness (yi 宜). The efficacy of meaningful-appropriateness is called reality (qing 情). Once conscious intelligence arises, despite their differentiation, the means by which they treasure life and preserve meaningful-appropriateness are one and the same reality. The various patterned-principles exist simultaneously without conflict such that what is respected and what is base are differentiated. Profit and loss arise by contact

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with them and the auspicious and inauspicious become manifested. Therefore, the worthy ones (xianren 賢人) and the gentlemen cannot be cut off from their conscious-awareness and desires in their social interactions with others, and by observing the cyclic cycle they find equilibrium and decide on their course of action. By using heaven’s Dao and sharing in earth’s benefits, after they work hard, they enjoy life. By practicing human-kindness (ren 仁) and obedience, reverence and frugality, loyalty and honesty, being respectful and humble, their intention is never excessive or demanding, being moderate and balanced, will they not be successful? So, the great establishes the extreme, sets the patterned-principles for all living creatures, instructs others and displays the model, thereby they exist. These are the means by which the sage-king administers government.

夫總混群本, 宗極之道也。方以族異, 庶類之品也。形象著分, 有生之體也。化 感錯綜, 理跡之原也。夫品而為族, 則所稟者偏, 偏無自足, 故憑乎外資。是以生 而可尋, 所謂理也。理之所體, 所謂有也。有之所須, 所謂資也。資有攸合, 所謂 宜也。擇乎厥宜, 所謂情也。識智既授, 雖出處異業, 默語殊塗, 所以寶生存宜, 其 情一也。眾理並而無害, 故貴賤形焉。失得由乎所接, 故吉凶兆焉。是以賢人君 子, 知欲不可絕, 而交物有會。觀乎往復, 稽中定務。惟夫用天之道, 分地之利, 躬 其力任, 勞而後饗。居以仁順, 守以恭儉, 率以忠信, 行以敬讓, 志無盈求, 事無過 用, 乃可濟乎!故大建厥極, 綏理群生, 訓物垂範, 於是乎在, 斯則聖人為政之由也 (Feng 1983: 112).

In this way Pei Wei links his understanding of cosmology, human life, and good government. The method is clearly that of distinguishing terms and analyzing patterned-­principles in the spirit of Xuanxue philosophy. Instead of describing Dao as non-being, Pei defines it as the integrated and chaotic root of the multitude of existence. Pei is arguing for a concrete form of existence that is not an abstraction. For him, Dao is not an abstract category of non-being like Wang Bi’s. The primordial Dao as an integrated and chaotic root is a collective noun for all of existence. This collective noun is like what Ruan Ji called “beyond the external” (wuwai 無 外), what Xiang Xiu 向秀 (ca. 227–277) and Guo Xiang 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE) meant by “heaven and earth is the collective name of the myriad things” or what we would refer to as the “cosmos” (Feng 1983: 112–113). Pei Wei wants to ground his idea of existence in the particular manifested phenomena of material forms rather than an abstract non-being. He goes on to criticize Laozi’s claim that “being is generated from non-being” as incorrect and groundless (Feng 1983: 115). Pei argues that the focus on non-being should only be used to support material existence, and he felt that it was misleading in that it would cause people to focus on nothingness, not promoting the values and virtues required to manage a civil society and government. Pei Wei argues that his cosmology of venerating being has direct social implications. He proposed that the focus on vacuity and non-being led people to act inappropriately, to ignore basic human relationships, civic duties, moral values and virtues, and causes the demise of good government. In a sense he links non-being to moral nihilism and extreme pessimism. There are stories in A New Account of Tales of the World (Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語) that appear to acknowledge this kind of breakdown where government officials have no interest in serving the public good and prefer to drink alcohol all day, and where people behave in a Zhuangzian antinomian manner, violating social norms (Mather 1976). So, Pei advocated the veneration of being to strengthen people’s resolve to be engaged in social-moral activities to properly complement the true nature of reality. He wants to link the

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positive affirmation of being to the moral affirmation of human social relationships and virtuous behavior (Feng 1983: 114–115). In the end he died for his cause in the ancient spirit of Confucius’ teachings that praise martyrs who will not compromise their virtue to save their own lives. Pei Wei would have agreed with the old saying “nothing comes from nothing.” There is a cryptic and problematic passage in the Discourse on Venerating Being that sums up his thinking. It reads: “[Concrete] being does not come into existence/ being from non-being, nor does non-being come from non-being, nor does non-­ being come from being that is not [concrete] being 夫有非有, 於無非無; 於無非 無, 於有非有” (Feng 1983: 117). Feng argues that there are two problems with this passage. First, he contends that the passage has been taken out of context and should appear at the end of the Discourse as its summary, which sounds reasonable. Second, he proposes that the copier made mistakes, and he rewrites the passage to fit his own materialist-dialectical interpretation that being is the antithesis of non-being and vice versa. I believe that my translation conveys Pei Wei’s idea that concrete being cannot arise from an abstract non-being, non-being cannot create itself nor arise from being itself. Pei Wei appeals to a few specific examples to drive home his point that only being truly exists, namely that things can only exist based on other existing things. For example, an existing draftsman must make a tool; tools do not come from non-existing draftsmen. We cannot catch fish by sitting quietly on the bank doing nothing, nor can we shoot a bird without taking aim with a bow and arrow. Likewise, a minister cannot govern the masses by effortless, non-action. For Pei Wei, people must know how to use real existing things to accomplish actual results. Abstract speculative philosophy will not yield the kind of physical outcomes he is seeking. Pei Wei’s philosophy is a type of pragmatic, concrete realism. In this sense, his thinking advanced Xuanxue historically to move beyond the lofty abstractions of his predecessors. After Ji Kang and Ruan Ji began discussing the Zhuangzi, other prominent scholars carried on the practice. Being obscure, the Zhuangzi needed commentarial insights for interpretation. Philosophers not only elucidated the texts they commented on, but also used those texts to expound their own philosophies. Thus, Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang wrote their respective commentaries on the Zhuangzi. Ji Kang and Xiang Xiu were friends and they discussed the Zhuangzi (Feng 1983: 128). Xiang’s commentary and many other works of the Wei-Jin period were lost during or shortly after that period of political disorder. Previously some scholars considered Guo Xiang’s commentary to be a copy of Xiang Xiu’s. This is not the case. In the commentarial practices, scholars typically incorporated the commentaries of other intellectuals, as a type of argument by authority, to help develop their interpretation of a text, and to further create their own philosophy. Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Zhuangzi is no exception to this practice. He incorporated some of Xiang Xiu’s commentary and the commentaries of others to develop his own philosophical perspective and commentary on the Zhuangzi. To consider his commentary to be a mere plagiarism of Xiang Xiu’s work is an oversimplification. In what sense does the philosophy of Guo Xiang promote an historical synthesis that incorporates and goes beyond the debate and controversy of cherishing

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non-­being and venerating being? Guo Xiang’s synthesis of what is “beyond nonbeing” (wuwu 無無), marks the third phase of the historical-dialectical development of Xuanxue. Guo Xiang goes beyond both views that either being or non-being serve as the ultimate reality that creates or generates the myriad things by proposing that the material forms of existence are “created” or generated in-and-by themselves, naturally, spontaneously, self-so-ingly (ziran 自然). Guo’s philosophy offers a criticism of the popular and the philosophical beliefs that there must be an ultimate reality that creates and rules over the world and human life by arguing that things exist independently (du 獨), naturally, and are self-generated (zisheng 自生). As we saw above, although they use different names or designations for ultimate reality, nevertheless, both Wang Bi and Pei Wei seem to agree that there is an ultimate reality that stands outside of the material forms of existence, that generates or creates them, and in this sense also governs or controls them. At least for Pei Wei, things are generated by other existing things; they are not spontaneously self-generated. That is, they both accept an external cause or external determinant for the world’s existence. Guo argues against these views. Guo Xiang was influenced by a passage from chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of the Zhuangzi. In the opening section of this chapter, Ziqi comes out of an apophatic meditation of panenhenic unity, while being questioned by Yancheng Ziyou about his experience of having lost his “me-identity.” To explain his panenhenic experience of unity, Ziqi draws an extended metaphor-analogy with the various vibrations or piping-sounds of humans, earth, and Nature. Humans make music on bamboo pitch-pipes, while the earth’s wind resonates through the indentations and hollows of things. As for the energy-vibrations of Nature, “they resonate through all the ten thousand differences, allowing each to go their own way. But because each one selects out its own, what identity can there be for their rouser?” (Ziporyn 2009: 9–10; translation modified). Readers and interpreters who are inclined to believe in an external cause or creator interpret this passage as a reference to a creator god who must be the cause or rouser that does the sounding; for them, that rouser-cause is an omnipresent, all-encompassing god or ultimate reality, making creatures and things exist. That view was certainly not Zhuangzi’s intention, and Guo Xiang correctly captures the meaning of the passage in his commentary and expands upon it in his philosophy of “independent transformation” (duhua 獨化). Guo’s note on the above passage says: This is the piping-sound (energy-vibration) of Nature. As for the piping-sounds of nature, how could there be anything else besides them? They are exactly the sounds of the various cavities (earthly vibrations) and the multiple bamboo-pipes (human music), connecting living creatures and taken together they become one natural (i.e., heavenly) sound.

此天籟也。夫天籟者, 豈復別有一物哉? 即眾竅比竹之屬, 接乎有生之類, 會而共 成一天耳 (Feng 1983: 138).

In the context of Lao-Zhuang thought, Xuanxue, and especially here in Guo Xiang’s philosophy, tian is an abbreviation of tiandi 天地 the natural environment, sky and earth, or nature, not a transcendent, other-worldly heaven. In a sense, Guo anticipates the interdependency of the part and the whole that Huayan Buddhism

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advocates in which the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts but is part-andparcel or none other than all of the parts taken together; change a part and the whole changes. For Guo, nature (tian) is a collective noun for the various concrete particulars, and these particulars are self-created. As his commentary continues: Hence nature is the collective noun for the myriad things. Nothing is more appropriate than nature. Then who is the lord who enslaves the myriad things? (Because there isn’t one,) hence each of the myriad things is self-engendering, and nothing exceeds it—This is the natural way.

故天者, 萬物之總名也, 莫適為天, 誰主役物乎? 故物各自生而無所出焉, 此天道 也 (Feng 1983: 138).

In this way, Guo expands on Zhuangzi’s thinking, creating his own philosophy of an imminent reality of concrete-particulars. He does not appeal to an abstract generalization or a higher transcendent reality. Guo’s philosophy is grounded in the unique, sui generous character of each and every particular thing. Guo Xiang wrote on many topics that were popular in Xuanxue philosophy such as inner-nature (xing 性) and destiny (ming 命), life and death, taking action and being tranquil, being antithetical (youdui 有對) and beyond being antithetical (wudui 無對), speaking (youyan 有言) and being beyond speaking (wuyan 無言), no mind (wuxin 無心), non-action (wuwei 無為) and non-dependency (wudai 無 待), the sage (shengren 聖人), the doctrine of names (mingjiao 名教), and complying with self-so-ness (ziran 自然). Guo’s philosophy is comprehensive, far reaching, broad and profound. It is the culmination of the development of Xuanxue. Liu Ling 劉伶 (d. 265 CE) and Zhang Zhan’s 張湛 (fl. 4th C. CE) commentary on the Liezi 列子 offer an expedient, direct experience and non-rational technique that counters the mainstream rational method of Xuanxue to use “distinguishing names and analyzing patterned-principles.” Some intellectuals sought a more direct approach referred to as “arriving at comprehension.” With this direct approach they could enter a profound spiritual experience of manifesting self-so-spontaneity in a natural manner and bypass the method of “distinguishing names and analyzing patterned-­principles.” One way to achieve this direct experience of arriving at comprehension was the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol. Liu Ling was one of the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove” (Zhulin Qixian 竹林七賢) who was most famous for his daily drunkenness. He composed the “Song to the Power of Wine” (Jiu de Song 酒德颂) in which he extols the virtue of wine as an expedient means “to comprehend by direct experience chaos” (da hundun 達混沌). Liu describes a “great man” who is at home in the vast universe, taking the sky as his tent and the earth as his floormat, he wanders freely without a care. His only endeavor is to drink wine all day. Liu’s “great man” is like Ruan Ji’s in that both have entered a spiritual realm of living the natural, free and easy, self-so spontaneous life. In the “Song to the Power of Wine,” Liu describes how, being in an inebriated state, he goes beyond thinking, beyond normal considerations, to enter a happiness of wanton joyfulness. When drunk he is immovable but when he awakens, he is in a daze. He is beyond physical and emotional concerns. This is the spiritual experience

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of the direct comprehension of chaos. But it cannot be merely experienced or obtained by just getting drunk. People try to imitate the practice by merely drinking a lot; this is called “contrived arriving at comprehending” (zuo da 作達). The wanton, carefree, antinomian behavior of the seven worthies of the Bamboo Grove set up a pretense for posers, fakes, or charlatans, who could easily exhibit similar external behaviors without the philosophical understanding that must accompany authentic directly experiencing comprehension by merely pretending or contriving such alleged comprehension by simply getting drunk and being irresponsible. This kind of irresponsible, adolescent behavior may be a background reason that simulated the alleged hedonism proposed in the “Yang Zhu 楊朱” chapter of the Liezi. Yang Zhu (ca. 4th C. BCE) provides the strongest advocacy for hedonism in classical Chinese literature. When he advocates total sensory and bodily pleasure, he clearly falls short of the spiritual dimension of ancient “Daoism” of the Lao-­ Zhuang teachings, and the spiritual aspirations of Xuanxue (Feng 1983: 200). Those passages can be read as metaphors given for their “shock affect,” to point the reader toward liberation (Henricks 1983: 6). When the “Yang Zhu” chapter proposes that there can be a natural, spontaneous expression to freely say and do what one naturally does, then it returns to the self-cultivation and self-transformation intent and purpose of Xuanxue promoting a natural, self-so-spontaneous spiritual liberation. There is a way to read and interpret the “Yang Zhu” chapter in a Daoist frame without advocating blind hedonism (Sellmann 1995: 78–79). Liu Ling’s exploits provide a kind of capstone experience for the Wei dynasty Xuanxue, just as Zhang Zhan’s commentary concludes the Jin dynasty Xuanxue with a similar appeal to return to ziran.

7  Conclusion I have only been able to introduce a few of the contributions that Xuanxue has to offer the growth and historical development of Chinese Philosophy. Xuanxue provides a bridge from the initial ancient pre-Qin flourishing of philosophy that sets a foundation for the later Song-Ming revival of Chinese philosophy after the Tang dynasty interest in Buddhism. In this sense, Wei-Jin Xuanxue provides the second period of profound philosophical developments in the history of Chinese philosophy. Because the Xuanxue philosophers focused on integrating Daoist ideas into Confucianism, it should be considered the first wave of neo-Confucianism, setting the stage for Song dynasty Lixue. Through the Zhuangzi’s use of Confucius’ voice, Xuanxue philosophers were better able to integrate Lao-Zhuang cosmology and self-transformation teachings with Confucian-Mencian self-cultivation and moral teachings, creating a renewed and more comprehensive theoretical understanding and practical application of both traditions. Through their eclectic, amalgamated approach to philosophy that blended Lao-Zhuang and Confucian-Mencian teachings, they ushered in new concepts. By both using the method of “distinguishing names and analyzing patterned-principles” while also seeking other direct

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experiential methods, Xuanxue integrated Lao-Zhuang transformational vital-breath cosmology into Confucian-Mencian philosophy, while developing higher abstractions and promoting nothingness in various forms such as cherishing non-being, venerating being, culminating in an historical synthesis of valuing what is beyond non-being, analyzing and expanding the understanding of patterned-principles, original substance, and substance-functioning that impacted later philosophical developments in the ongoing understanding and development of Chinese philosophy. Xuanxue made lasting contributions to Chinese philosophy.

Bibliography Chan, Alan K.L. 2009. “Neo-Daoism.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy, 303–323. New York: Routledge. Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Fang, Thomè. 1981. Chinese Philosophy: Its Spirit and Its Development. Taipei: Linking Publishing Company. Feng, Youlan 馮友蘭. 1983. A New History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學新編. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Henricks, Robert. 1983. Philosophy and Argumentation in Third-Century China: The Essays of Hsi K’ang. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kohn, Livia. 2014. Zhuangzi: Text and Context. St. Petersburg: Three Pines Press. Lin, Yutang. 2014. The Wisdom of Laotse. Beijing: Foreign Language Press. Mather, Richard B., trans. 1976. A New Account of Tales of the World. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Muller, Charles. 2016. “The Emergence of Essence-Function (tiyong 體用) Hermeneutics in the Sinification of Indic Buddhism: An Overview.” Critical Review of Buddhist Studies, 19.6: 111-152. Owen, Stephen and Wendy Swartz, trans. 2017. The Poetry of Ruan Ji and Xi Kang. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Puett, Michael. 2017. “Text and Commentary: The Early Tradition.” In Wiebke Denecke, Wai-­ Yee Li and Xiaofei Tian, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Classical Chinese Literature (1000 BCE-900 CE), 112-122. New York: Oxford University Press. Sellmann, James D. 1995. “Liezi.” In Ian P. McGreal, ed., Great Thinkers of the Eastern World, 76–79. New York: Harper Collins. Swartz, Wendy. 2018. Reading Philosophy, Writing Poetry: Intertextual Modes of Making Meaning in Early Medieval China. Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. Tang, Yongtong 漡用彤. 2005. A Sketch of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晋玄學論稿. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Thompson, Kirill O. 1990. “Daoist Cultural Reality: The Harmony of Aesthetic Order.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 17: 175–185. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003. Language, Ontology, and Political philosophy in China: Wang Bi’s Scholarly Exploration of the Dark (Xuanxue). Albany: State University of New York Press. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康. 2016. The History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晋玄学史. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Ziporyn, Brook. 2009. Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing. James D. Sellmann is the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences, and Professor of Philosophy and Micronesian Studies at the University of Guam. He has published over 100 articles in various peer reviewed books, encyclopedias, and journals. He is the author of Timing and Rulership in Master Lü’s Spring and Autumn Annals (2002).

Chapter 3

The Metaphysical Style and Structural Coherence of Names in Xuanxue Jana S. Rošker

1  Introduction In their disputes on names (concepts) and actualities (mingshi 名實), the classical scholars of the pre-Qin and Han era still viewed reality as being composed of tangible external objects and their objective forms. In the Xuanxue 玄學 discourses of the Wei-Jin period, however, we encounter a different, deeper, and much more complex, theoretically elaborated understanding of reality. For most leading scholars of this period, reality was no longer reduced to the existence of objective things and their external forms but was understood as something that simultaneously includes our perception and understanding of these objects and their forms respectively. Based on such an onto-epistemological agenda, their investigations were focused upon the inherent constitution of meaning. In this context, meaning was no longer something directly and one-dimensionally connected with things or something, forming a part of them. The present chapter aims to illustrate this process, which has led the prevailing currents of traditional Chinese theory of perception from a realist assessment of reality to a more complex philosophy of human understanding. This development, which began with an essential upgrading of the mingshi debate into a discourse on the relation between language (yan 言) and meaning (yi 意), will be illuminated through the lens of three crucial concepts that have been fundamentally modified in Wei-Jin epistemological thought, and which manifest

J. S. Rošker (*) Department of Asian Studies, Faculty of Arts, University of Ljubljana, Ljubljana, Slovenia e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_3

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themselves in the notions of absence (wu 無),1 structural coherence (li 理), and oneness (yi 一). In this process of modification and transformation, these notions became mutually interrelated and obtained onto-epistemological dimensions, which had a lasting impact on the further development of Chinese philosophy. In this period, scholars known as Gentlemen of Note (mingshi 名士) developed the so-called metaphysical style (fengdu 風度) of philosophizing that was noted for its free spirit and manifested itself in “pure conversation” (qingtan 清談)2: These men often met in bamboo groves to drink, write poems, and talk and behave with utter disregard for social conventions or worldly values. The more important facet, however, was the metaphysical. As already indicated, Han thought was strongly characterized by the doctrines of the correspondence of Nature and man and their mutual influence. It was, therefore, greatly concerned with natural phenomena. The Metaphysical Schools of Wei-­ Jin, on the contrary, went beyond phenomena to find reality beyond space and time. They found this in the non-being of Laozi and Zhuangzi but gave it a new meaning (Chan 1963: 316).

According to Li Zehou, the so-called “Wei-Jin style” was constituted by a “seemingly aloof, careless and self-satisfied attitude, caring for nothing and for everything” (Li 1994: 92). In the field of philosophy, this style was often denoted as a “metaphysical style.” In Chinese sources, the intellectual movement that adopted this style, is called Xuanxue, which literally means the “learning” or study (xue) of the “dark” or mysterious and profound (xuan). In most Western sources, it is named The School of Profound Learning or the School of Mystery. Many scholars (e.g., Chan 1963: 315) denote the whole philosophical undertaking of the time with the general term Metaphysical Schools of the Wei-Jin Period. Xuanxue scholars modified the ancient disputes on the relation between names (concepts) and actualities that resulted in the doctrines of names (mingjiao 名教) turning into investigations of the relation between language and meaning or intention. Because names or

1  Even though in most Western sources, the term wu 無 is often translated as non-being or nothingness (see Chai 2014: 663ff), I regard such translations as risky and possibly misleading (especially for readers who are solely trained in Western philosophy and possess little or no background knowledge about the basic paradigms of Chinese philosophy), for in Western philosophy, these terms have certain connotations that cannot be found in Chinese thought. 2  Qingtan refers to a practice of philosophical, often abstract, discussion that was performed in public, displaying aesthetic skill, which brought about a type of “celebrity scholar” atmosphere. However, these conversations did not refer to superficially and pleasantly passing the time in tête-à-tête. Such debates had to include specific content, linked to the “three texts of profundity” (san xuan 三玄), these being the Daodejing 道德經, Zhuangzi 莊子, and Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes). They had to be conducted in a specific manner, which had nothing to do with a bookish or pedantic fashion. In these metaphysical conversations, one had to make a point subtly in conversation and be witty at the same time. This implied that scholars engaged in qingtan had to state their arguments aptly and elegantly by using only a few simple phrases. Later, this kind of stylishness developed into a search for elegance in conversation. Flatness of conversation and rude expressions were inexcusable. Only a person whose speech could meet these standards in content, manner, and style could be called a mingshi. See Mou 1983: 227.

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concepts were connected to both, i.e., to language as well as to meaning,3 they were primarily interested in investigating their inherent structural coherence (mingli 名理). The term mingli was constituted on the basis of Legalist (Fajia 法家), Nomenalist (Mingjia 名家)4 and Mohist (Mojia 墨家) studies on logical reasoning. These ancient foundations represented an important starting point for the development of Wei-Jin semantic logic. Tang Yiming exposes that in this regard, the Nomenalist School was especially favored for its investigations into the nature of names or concepts, and for its research in the structural principles underlying their understanding (Tang 1992: 59). Hence the term mingli continued to be used; later on, it even came to be equated with logical thought itself (Tang 1992: 59) although, as we shall see, it could also be seen as a model of structural syntax or a system of structural semantics. The mingli discourses arose from presumptions concerning the meaning a particular word forms with regards to its relations to other words. The li (coherent structure) of the ming was namely seen as a relational structure, that is, a structure composed by relations that form a coherent unity or oneness. In this context, the scholars of the Metaphysical Schools have theoretically upgraded the traditional methods of ancient Chinese writings, which were based upon semantically similar parallelisms, following the specific Chinese structure of analogous thought (see Rošker 2017: 841). By elaborating upon the network of this semantic relational structure, Xuanxue theoreticians, says Tang Junyi, created and developed an entirely new philosophical discipline (Tang 1955: 46). This was one of the most important theoretical shifts in the history of traditional Chinese thought. Among other issues, the present chapter aims to clarify the question of how and why the ancient dispute over names and actualities, particularly the doctrine of names that resulted from them, were combined with the problem of the relation between language and meaning and then developed into a coherent theory of mingli, in which we can see a basic model for the development of the specifically Chinese structural semantic. This process will be investigated through the lens of the three aforementioned notions of absence, structural coherence, and oneness.

3  In classical Chinese logic, the sentential or linguistic structure was a system that served as a basic tool for defining the relation between actuality and its conceptual understanding and naming, respectively. Hence the term ming could appear in two semantic connotations. The first, which mainly occurred in logical discourses, is a connotation of name (as a linguistic mark), and the second, found particularly in semantic and epistemological works, represents a concept. See, for instance, Zhang Dainian: “The term ‘ming’ had a dual meaning: terms and concepts 名有兩層意 義, 一指名詞, 一指概念.” Zhang 2003: 118. 4  This school of thought is usually translated as the “School of Names” in Western Sinology. Because it is impossible to use this compound in the adjective form or for denoting its adherents, I prefer to use the term “Nomenalist School.”

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2  Epistemological Foundations The task of creating and developing a system of structurally cohering names basically belongs to the field of epistemology. In this field, the metaphysical style of the Wei-Jin philosophers was especially important because it enabled them to modify certain logical and ontological presumptions regarding the theory of knowledge. In this framework, the re-interpretation of the mutual relations between language, visual representation (xiang 象), and meaning, was of particular importance. Even though the scholars of Xuanxue were of different opinion regarding this matter, the majority of them followed the presumption that words and symbols (i.e., language and visual representations) are, on the one hand, a tool that helps us to grasp their meaning; on the other hand, those very same words and symbols can (in case we become too “attached” to them) become obstacles that hinder the ample comprehension of meaning. For them, this was an important hermeneutical problem that had to be taken into account, especially in the study and interpretation of classical books. This epistemological view regarding the perception, comprehension, and communication of reality, was developed in the process of several paradigmatic transformations regarding the ontological bases of reality. The first significant concept that was strongly modified or even re-established in the course of these historical and intellectual developments, was the Daoist concept of wu (absence in the sense of both nothingness and/or non-being), which was no longer merely seen as a categorical counterweight to its antipode you 有 (presence in the sense of being and/or Being), but rather as the basis of pure existence, as an inextricable wholeness of everything that exists.5 Even though this view was, as we shall see, not held by all of the dominant philosophers of the time, the idea as such was highly influential and had extremely far-reaching consequences. The second notion that has been modified to a degree that it later gradually became one of the central concepts of Chinese philosophy was li 理 in the sense of structural coherence. In the context of the present chapter, it represents an important tool for the creation of a new understanding of the relation between language and thought. It became a crucial notion for the construction of new models of structural semantics and syntax systems. From the new epistemological perspectives that were drawn during the Wei-Jin period, it was seen as a basic origin, which regulates both the art of argumentation (including naming), and that which it reflects or expresses— namely reality itself (including all actualities comprised in it). The third notion which played a significant role in these transformative processes of the Wei-Jin era was the idea of oneness (yi 一), a notion tightly connected to those mentioned above. As we shall see below, it was considered to be a manifestation of absence, and its only possible (though non-linguistic) expression, for both concepts were seen as different manifestations of the origin—and the final juncture—of all existence. In its holistic wholeness, structural coherence was also a presentation of 5  According to David Chai, the elevation of the you/wu dyad from epistemology to ontology is one of the most important and lasting contributions of Wang Bi’s meontology. Chai 2010: 90.

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universal oneness, embracing and incorporating diverse “substructures” of all ­particular existing entities.6 In the following, I will first illuminate the crucial contributions of Xuanxue scholars to the essential upgrading of the ancient mingshi debate into a more sophisticated discourse on the nature of the relation between language and meaning; then, I will critically introduce their elaborations upon the three abovementioned ideas (i.e., wu, li, and yi) separately in order to clarify their particular relations to the establishment of the mingli discourse, which is based upon the idea of the structural coherence of names or concepts in its double connotation of logical-linguistic sign and epistemological concept.

3  Language and Meaning In his philosophical annotations to the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經), Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) was concerned with investigating the relations among meaning (yi 意), words, and symbols or visual representations. Words and symbols, however, were the descriptive (metaphorical) expressions of certain elements occurring within the structural network of meaning (yili 意理). These expressions were signs with perceivable forms by which they could be determined, therefore, they pertained to the sphere of the physical, determinable, and apprehensible. If we wish to define them using traditional methods for determining reality, such as the binary category “fanchou 範疇” of roots (ben 本) and branches (mo 末), which Wang Bi applied in his theoretical model, then the meaning in the sense of the semantic structural coherence belongs to the sphere of abstractions, where it provides the metaphysical basis for the forming of words and symbols (see Zeng 2002: 175). The Xuanxue scholars based their theories on two fundamental premises: that names or concepts were the foundation of language; and that their meaning was always evident within the coherent structure; it was not necessarily something contained in the physical objects from the external reality (wu 物).7 However, it should be recalled that in their earlier disputes on names (concepts) and actualities, the classical philosophers of the pre-Qin era, particularly the Mohist 6  This holism of all particularities has been most clearly expressed by Zhu Xi in his Zhuzi Yulei 朱 子語類. In the first part of the “liqi 理氣” chapter, he wrote: “The structural coherence is oneness, but it can be divided into particularities. Regarding the unity of everything that exists, there is only one coherent structure. But in the concrete mundane world, every single thing has its own coherent structure 理一分殊。合天地萬物而言, 只是一箇理; 及在人, 則又各自有一箇理.” Li 1986: 2. These “particular structures” are not merely “substructures” of a greater (or entire) structure; in other words, they are not understood merely as parts of the whole. Precisely because of the fact that each structure represents a coherent arrangement, which bears in itself the basic model of oneness (or taiji 太極), the taiji oneness as such manifests itself in every particular, as well as in the greatest possible structure. In fact, the very nature of such a model of holism is the basic precondition of that which makes these structures mutually compatible and creates the “structural coherence.” 7  Tang Junyi writes: “言之所本在名, 意之所及恆在理, 而不必在物.” See Tang 1955: 66.

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and the Nomenalist School, had taken their departure from a notion of reality in which there was an objective external world filled with external forms of things. These forms were seen as inherent parts of the general structural coherence of things that was expressed in the ancient understanding of the concept li. The coherent structure of meaning, however, which does not appear before the Wei-Jin period, was no longer something directly connected to things or forming a part of them. It thus represented a certain degree of abstraction of the term li. Consequently, and in what constituted one of the most important theoretical shifts in the history of traditional Chinese thought,8 the Xuanxue philosophers gradually shifted their focus from the relation between names or concepts and actualities to the relation between language and meaning, while also investigating the structure of concepts or names. These Xuanxue debates on the relation between language and meaning can be considered a significant theoretical upgrading of the ancient disputes on the (one-­ dimensional) relation between names (concepts) and actualities. Their investigations into names (concepts) and actualities led to the beginning of structural semantics. They primarily proceeded from Mohist and Nominalist investigations, as well as from some even earlier paradigms taken from Zhuangzi’s epistemology and his philosophy of language. This central figure of classical Daoism often argued that language could not completely express meaning, while meaning could not fully attain Dao 道.9 During the period of the Six Dynasties, the question whether language could exhaustively express meaning gave rise to two opposing currents. The main exponent of the affirmative view, Ouyang Jian 歐陽建 (249–282 CE), based his argument on the structural coherence of meaning: Structural coherence is formed in our mind but it cannot be conveyed without language. Through language we can thus define objects that can be distinguished from each other only by concepts. Concepts change in accordance with objects, and language in accordance with the structural coherence. These two cannot be separated and because they cannot be separated, language can always fully express meaning.

夫理得於心, 非言不畅。物定於彼, 非名不辨。名逐物而遷, 言因理而變。不得 相譽與為二矣。苛無其二, 言無不盡意 (Shen 2018: 134).

Ouyang thus postulated a notion of coherent structure arising from the mind and includes linguistic, conceptual and semantic arrangements. These aspects are dynamic and changeable, as was the structural coherence connecting them. Even his main adversary, Wang Bi, who denied that language could exhaustively express meaning, did not question the structural connection between language and thought. Instead, he preferred to base his refutation of Ouyang’s view on the unreliability of the names or concepts; as such,10 an argument that was also adopted by He  Ibid.  See Tang Junyi 1955: 67. 10  Because his commentary on Laozi’s Daodejing was central to his own philosophy, Wang Bi adopted Laozi’s view on the impossibility of denoting (conceptualizing) the eternal, or genuine Dao. He interpreted this foundational prologue as follows: “The Dao that can be expressed in language and the name that can be named both either point to a (concrete) matter or create a form. Neither of these is constant (or universal). This is why Dao can neither be expressed in language nor defined with a name 可道之道, 可名之名, 指事造形, 非其常也。故不可道, 不可名也.” Lou 1999: 1. 8 9

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Yan 何晏 (193–249 CE) in his treatise Teachings on Namelessness (Wuming lun 無 名論).11 Guo Xiang argued that while names (concepts) expressed objects (either in visual or phonetic form), they also limited our images of them.12 Concepts were thus only necessary until we could comprehend the coherent structure of the objects to which they referred (Tang 1955: 67). We will be returning to this structural approach and introduce it more in detail in the next sections of this chapter. For now, let us take a closer look at some other aspects of Wang Bi’s far-reaching contribution to the debate of the relation between language and meaning. In this debate, Wang followed the presumption according to which “the meaning can be grasped when the symbols are forgotten.” Accordingly, “the symbols can be understood when the words are forgotten 得意在忘象, 得象在忘言” (Lou 1999: 609). He explained this view in the following way: Meaning is exhausted in symbols and these are revealed in words. Thus, words can help us clarify symbols, and as soon as we grasp symbols, we can forget words.

意以象盡, 象以言著。故言者所以明象, 得象而忘言 (Lou 1999: 609).

In this regard, Wang has paraphrased or developed the linguistic (or epistemological) theory that was famously expressed in Zhuangzi’s metaphor of the fish basket which can be forgotten as soon as one has caught a fish.13 Besides using the fish basket, which has become popular in philosophical circles, Wang Bi tried to express the relation between understanding and transmitting the meaning with a metaphor about the rabbit trap. While he used the former as a comparison for symbols, he used the latter as a metaphor for words. According to him, “words are to symbols what the trap is to the rabbit, and symbols are to meaning what the fish basket is to the fish 言至於象, 猶比蹄至於兔, 象至於意, 猶筌至於魚” (Zeng 2002: 175). Thus, we can forget the trap or basket as soon as we have caught the rabbit or fish. Similarly, we can forget symbols and words as soon as we have grasped the meaning. But according to Wang Bi, the reverse is also true: if we manage to forget14 symbols, we will automatically grasp the meaning. And the symbols can be understood only by those who will manage to forget the words by which they are described: Words are born from symbols and, therefore, we can search for the words through the observation of symbols. Symbols are born from meaning, so we can search for the meaning by observing the symbols … Those who manage to forget the symbols can grasp the meaning. Those who manage to forget the words can grasp the symbols. Meaning can be grasped by forgetting the symbols and the symbols can be grasped by forgetting the words.

 See, for instance, his problematization of differences and similarities in regard to the agenda of naming: “The winter sun is Yin, but in summer it is Yang, even if it is far away. They all seem different if you look at them closely, but they seem to be the same when viewed from afar. If we do not comprehend these differences in detail, we will not be able to understand the theory of namelessness 冬日為陰, 而朝書遠與夏日同為陽, 皆異於進, 而同於遠也。詳此異同, 而後無名之 論可知矣.” Chen 2006: 301. For more, see Paul D’Ambrosio’s chapter in this Companion. 12  He even went so far as to dismiss the importance of names altogether. D’Ambrosio 2016: 128. 13  See chapter 26 “waiwu 外物.” 14  Of course, the task of forgetting is anything but easy (see, for instance, Chai 2019b: 148). 11

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言生于象, 故可尋言以觀象; 象生於意。故可尋象以觀意 …… 忘象者, 乃得意者 也, 忘言者, 乃得象者也。得意在忘象, 得象在忘言 (Lou 1999: 609).

Hence, on the one hand, words and symbols are seen as tools which help us grasp the meaning. On the other hand, however, they can represent the main obstacles for a perfect understanding, especially in case we become too attached to (or dependent on) them. In such a case, words could distort, and the symbols could blur the meaning. Hence the Classic of Changes interpreter should not cling to words and symbols.15 This is especially important because the Changes is based upon symbols: The Yi consists of symbols, which are born from meaning. As soon as we have meaning, we can clarify it with the help of the object, to which it belongs.

夫易者, 象也。象之所生, 生於意也。有斯意, 然後明之以其物 (Lou 1999: 215).

According to Wang Bi, symbols are a kind of a mental tool that helps us to understand meaning; words thus serve as descriptions that help us understand symbols. But even both of them together cannot exhaustively express meaning; at the most, they can hint at it because meaning as such is linguistically and visually inexpressible in its entirety. According to some modern interpretations (see, for instance, Tang 1955; Zeng 2002; Shen 2018), this is because Wang Bi saw meaning as something metaphysical, while words and symbols belonged “merely” to the phenomena of the physical world. In this framework, “meaning” is a metaphysical structure that could be denoted with the compound yili 意理, i.e., a “coherent semantic structure” (Zeng 2002: 175). In contrast to such an all-embracing structure, words and symbols came into life in accordance with this coherent structure as (metaphorical) expressions of meaning. These expressions have perceivable forms through which they can be defined. Following this view, Wang Bi could indeed incorporate these linguistic and epistemological elements into his basic ontological structure of root and branches: “meaning” could be understood as the (metaphysical) root, and hence, as the foundation, which allows the shaping and developing of concrete words and symbols, i.e., the (phenomenal) branches.16 Precisely because of this new understanding of meaning, it is by no means coincidental that the semantic approaches gradually came to occupy a privileged position within the Wei-Jin metaphysical style of thought. These proto-epistemological discourses would have a decisive impact on later developments in this specific area, most of which took place between the third and sixth centuries. This epistemological shift followed the debate on the nature of the relation between names (or concepts) and actualities, which have, as we have seen, reappeared in a considerably  See Tze-Ki Hon’s chapter in this Companion for more.  I have certain reservations regarding such comparisons of philosophical terms that are rooted in quite different referential frameworks. Hence, it is difficult for me to adopt the view in which the Chinese “root and branch” can be directly compared to the Western notions of metaphysics and phenomena. However, regardless of such questions, it is certainly true that Wang Bi’s postulations about the relation between words, meanings, and symbols have had a great impact upon the development of Chinese aesthetics, particularly the shaping of the category of “visuality” (yixiang 意象).

15 16

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modified form within the Xuanxue discourses on the relation between language and meaning, i.e., between comprehension and interpretation.

4  Wu and the Ontology of Absence Another important theoretical idea that was constructed by Wang Bi was his ontology of absence. In this regard, he followed the presumption of the oneness and the indivisible nature of existence. In his system, however, the oneness or the universal wholeness of existence is, in contrast to previous views, not a part of existence itself, which is manifest, diverse and expressible. It rather dwells outside of it, surpassing all distinctions and descriptions: According to Wang Bi’s commentaries of Laozi’s Daodejing, absence is the original Dao, that is, nature, boundlessness, the newborn, simplicity and truth. But why is it called “absence” (wu 無)? Because it cannot be named, and all these words—Dao, nature, simplicity and truth—are names. As soon as we have a name, Dao is gone.

按照老子道德經及王弼所作的注釋看來, 無即太初之道, 即自然, 即無極, 即嬰兒, 即朴, 及真。為甚麼又叫無呢? 因為這種道, 自然, 朴, 真無以名之。有名便非道 了 (Wan 1994: 7).

Thus, Wang belongs to those interpreters of Laozi’s multifaceted philosophy, who equate his notion of absence (wu) with Dao, i.e., with the absolute beginning and the ultimate cause of all that exists.17 Hence, he explains the famous chapter 40, which contains the central suppositions of Laozi’s ontology,18 as exposing the primary role of the principle of absence: “Everything under heaven is born from presence. But that from which the presence is born is rooted in absence 天下之物, 皆以有為生。有之 所始, 以無為本” (Lou 1999: 110). Hence, for him, the concept of absence is the basic principle of existence: “In spite of the great wideness of heaven and earth, their core is absence 天地雖廣, 以無為心” (Lou 1999: 93).19 On the other hand, he still remains faithful to the principle of complementarity defining all mutually opposing antipodes, and he emphasizes that the complementary interaction between any two antipodes (any binary category) is always rooted in the same origin:

17  However, this equation is only a conditional one. The Xuanxue philosophers understood this relation in a similar way as the classical Daoists, who saw wu, for instance, as “the milieu within which Dao moves and to which it turns in order to realize its onto-cosmological creativity.” Chai 2019a: 9. We must not fall into the trap of thinking (as He Yan did in his too literary interpretation of Laozi—see Chai 2010: 91–92) of wu just as one of the many possible names of Dao. See Eric Nelson’s chapter in this Companion for more on Wang Bi and nothingness. 18  “All under heaven and everything that exists is born from presence, and presence is born from absence 天下萬物生於有, 有生於無.” Lou 1999: 110. 19  Sometimes, Wang describes this absence with a (somehow more concrete) compound xuwu 虛無 (void), and at times, he even replaces is by the term xu 虛 (emptiness).

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美惡, 猶喜怒也; 善不善, 猶是非也。喜怒同根, 是非同門 (Lou 1999: 6).

But this principle of complementarity is always unnamable, empty, and immovable, for every (form of) presence started from the vacuity (xu 虛), and every (form of) movement began in quietude (jing 靜).20 Hence even though everything that exists is functioning in a binary way, it finally always returns to this empty stillness, which is their ultimate authenticity. Through Wang Bi’s commentaries, the original complementary correlativity of presence and absence is developed into an (albeit relative) primacy of absence which becomes the ultimate principle of existence and attains an ontological priority. For the first time in Chinese intellectual history, we encounter an axiological distinction within binary categories21 that were hitherto functioning in a completely balanced and complementary way. In this way, Wang Bi profoundly transformed traditional models of correlative dialectical thinking and laid a cornerstone for the later development of proto-dualisms as created by the Neo-Confucian philosophers of the Song and Ming dynasties. Wang names this basic principle, which can only be described negatively, the fundamental absence (benwu 本無). He identifies it with the pure, original substantial root (benti 本體), which is single, all-embracing, all-pervading and always in accord with all cosmic and existential laws. In Wang Bi’s view, every human being who wants to approach the ideal of the sage (shengren 聖人), should follow this basic principle in all her actions, because all people are parts of the manifold entities of everything that exists. He Yan proceeded from very similar suppositions, positing that absence is the origin of everything. In his essay On Dao (Dao lun 道論) he explained: The creation of that which makes presence present is dependent on absence. The formation of that which makes things things comes from absence. Thus, we cannot speak about Dao. It cannot be named for it is nameless, cannot be seen for it is without form, and cannot be heard for it is soundless. This applies to Dao in its entirety.

有之為有, 恃無以生, 事而為事, 由無以成。夫道者而無語, 名之而無名, 視之而 無形, 聽之而無聲, 則道者全焉 (Chen 2006: 300).

He Yan further explains that, absence did not origin in anything else, for it has no past and no future. Yin and Yang and all existing beings are also born from absence; their existence, all their changes and all forms are dependent upon it. Without absence, the worthy person could never complete his or her virtue, and even the invisible needs absence to hide itself.

無也者, 無物成物, 無往而不存者也。陰陽恃以化生, 萬物恃以形成。賢者恃以 成德, 不肖者恃以免身 (Chen 2006: 300).  These two beautiful translations for the Chinese words xu and jing have been adopted from Chai 2014: 663. 21  I denote all binary pairs that serve as a model of complementary interaction between contrasting antipodes (e.g., yinyang 陰陽, benmo 本末, liqi 理氣, tiyong 體用, etc.) binary categories (duili fanchou 對立範疇). 20

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This line of thought, which is often denoted as the Learning of Treasuring Absence (guiwu zhi xue 貴無之學) was mainly represented by two currents: beside that led by Wang Bi and He Yan (see Chai 2010: 90), the teachings of the absolute dominance of absence were also acknowledged by Ruan Ji 阮籍 and Ji Kang 嵆康 (Tang 2000: 277). The only influential Xuanxue philosopher who was strongly against such an ontology was Guo Xiang, who was perhaps the most rational theoretician among all the well-known scholars of the time.22 According to his interpretation, Zhuangzi’s central concept was not Dao but the idea of naturalness, authenticity, or spontaneity. Everything in this world exists and changes spontaneously and “all things are independent pieces creating themselves 莫不塊然而自生” (Guo 1985: 46). No external force is influencing their life and fate. Hence Guo Xiang does not see any necessity to search for some all-embracing original reality that would create, control and guide them: “There is no ruler governing the formation of things. Each thing creates itself separately 造物者無主, 而物各自造” (Guo 1985: 112). He also stressed the mutual dependence of self and others. Both belong to the multifarious forms of occurrences that depend on each other for their existence. Each particular entity needs the entire cosmos to exist as it is. In this context, it seems rather natural that Guo Xiang neglects all “higher” or transcendent forces that could be able to create anything, including the concept of absence, which has for Wang Bi, as we have seen, represented the most basic (and at the same time, the highest) form of existence: What could create things? Absence? Absence is absent, so how could it create anything? And presence is also not able to create so many different forms.

夫造物者有邪? 無邪? 無也, 則胡能造物哉? 有也, 則不足以物眾形 (Guo 1985: 111).

The logical consequence of such a view is his negation of Wang Bi’s ontological presumption, according to which presence is rooted in absence, which means that something which is inexistent in reality (or actuality) creates all existent beings. He is highly skeptical towards such presumptions and writes somewhat peevishly: “Absence is merely absence. How could it create presence? 無既無矣, 則不能生 有” (Guo 1985: 50). Hence, for Guo, everything is self-sufficient and there is no need to control or govern them, as in the case of Wang Bi. Another consequence of such a viewpoint is also Guo’s emphasis on diversity—as for him, absence is no longer a basis of existence, he can neither acknowledge Wang’s all-embracing oneness of the ­universe. As we have seen above, he neglects the existence of any creative power, including presence.23 In contrast to Wang Bi, who imported a transcendent principle into Chinese philosophy, Guo Xiang’s creative potential is thoroughly immanent. Even though the social and political implications of diversity seem more appealing than the monolithic oneness of existence, which always appears to bring

 See the contribution by Chris Fraser in this Contribution for more.  I cannot, therefore, agree with Wing-Tsit Chan’s interpretation, for he wrote: “In other words, while Wang Bi emphasizes non-being, Guo Xiang emphasizes being.” Chan 1963: 317.

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about the weight of autocratic decrees, we cannot but emphasize the importance of this new interpretation of the absolute priority and ontological dimension of the concept wu. As we shall see, it is also important for the topic of the present chapter.

5  Li as Structural Coherence Particularly significant for the construction of the mingli discourse in the Wei-Jin era was also the specifically Chinese notion of structural coherence, which belongs to the crucial paradigms of classical Chinese onto-epistemology, and which was already constituted in the pre-Qin era. Thus, we shall take a closer look at the Xuanxue discourses through the lens of the notion li in the sense of structure or, more precisely, of an intelligible network consisting of mutually cohering structural relations. The Chinese term mingli is namely a compound composed of two notions, namely ming (name or concept) and li (structural coherence). As a whole, the term refers to a relational network of structurally connected concepts in which the meaning of every single notion is linked to other notions, and also to the entirety of relational semantic connotations included in this structural network of different, but mutually related meanings. Hence the concept li represents a crucial notion determining the gist of the compound mingli. In Western sources, the term li has been mostly translated by the notion of principle. Such an interpretation of this classical Chinese character has also been taken for granted by the majority of modern Chinese theoreticians. However, in this regard, the notion of principle is problematic, because principle refers to a standard, which is a fundamental truth or proposition that serves as the foundation for a system of belief or behavior, or for a chain of reasoning. It represents a basic idea, law, or rule that explains or controls how something happens or works, guiding this entity from outside. Li, on the other hand, refers to an inherent dynamic standard of any entity. A more precise translation of this term in the sense of a (dynamic) structure or structural coherence can offer us a new insight into the nature of the traditional Chinese comprehension of reality, as well as new possibilities for fruitful dialogues between traditional Chinese and European philosophy. Let us begin with a short investigation of the origin of this concept in the context of traditional Chinese thought. While interpreting the term li to mean “structure” or “structural coherence” may seem a bit unusual, there are several good reasons for doing so. This meaning is already apparent in the original etymology of the character li, that is composed of the phonetic element li 里 and the radical yu 玉, which designates jade. Originally, it denoted the pattern of lines or colored stripes in jade. As Wolfgang Bauer explains: In classical Chinese, this character in a figurative sense also denoted structure, for example in the meaning of a crystal net that represents the immaterial principle of ordered matter, and was already used with this sense in the Confucian commentary on the Book of Changes (Bauer 2000: 256–257).

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A.C. Graham, a modern pioneer in the study of ancient Chinese logic, is one of the very few sinologists who considers the concept of li as the expression of both a structural pattern24 and a structure: Li is the patterned arrangement of parts in a structured whole, of things in an ordered cosmos, of thought in rational discourse, and in names and objects,25 of words in a completed sentence. Its emergence in the Song dynasty as one of the central concepts of Neo-­ Confucianism was the culmination of a long development. In pre-Han philosophy it attracts attention especially in Interpreting the Laozi of Hanfeizi, who uses it to mean the specific configuration of properties (“square or round, long or short, coarse or fine, hard or soft”) in each kind of thing (Graham 1978: 191–192).

The philosopher cited by Graham, Hanfeizi 韓非子, was one of the founders of the Legalist school and described the concept of li as follows: “We call li that which is long or short, big or small, square or round, hard or soft, heavy or light, white or black 短長, 大小, 方圓, 堅脆, 輕重, 白黑之謂理” (Wang 2013: 152). This term underwent numerous semantic variations and its connotations developed from expressing concrete, tangible structures to denoting abstract networks of structural relations. Originally, the word referred to the cosmic, and later to the social structure; subsequently, its semantic connotations also included the structure of language and meaning and, finally, the structure of mind and consciousness (see Rošker 2012 and 2018). All these transformations were linked to the process of gradual abstraction of the term li. Perhaps Wei-Jin Xuanxue philosophy has offered us the most crucial phase of these abstractions. In the Xuanxue era, the notion of li gained new dimensions by virtue of the development of its linguistic and epistemological connotations. For the first time in history, li appeared as the central concept of a specific structural semantics that was based upon the so-called structural coherence of names.

6  The All-Embracing Oneness As already mentioned, the concept of oneness is linked to both the notion of absence and the idea of structural coherence. Let us first take a closer look at the connection between the idea of oneness and the concept of li, as has been dealt with in the previous section. All the above-mentioned types of structural coherence were unified in the course of Chinese history into a single, general, and basic rational structure,  In recent years, the Chinese concept of li has been increasingly translated with the term “pattern” as suggested by A.C. Graham. Even though this translation is much more suitable than “principle,” the formal connotations of “pattern” also include repetition or recurrence. This is problematic because li mainly expresses a relational structural network in the sense of the way things fit together, while no particular part or even principle ever repeats. See Ziporyn 2012: 29, 31, and 36. Although the term “pattern” is starting to morph in English so that many scholars now use it to mean simply “arrangement,” I tend to be cautious because of the implications of its more formal meaning. I thus understand it in terms of a structural coherence. 25  Graham’s translation of the “On Names and Actualities” (mingshi lun 名實論) chapter of the Mohist Canon. 24

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which was distinguished by its fundamental coherent compatibility with innumerable kinds of different, particular structural orders. In later Neo-Confucian philosophy, this specific view of the relation between oneness and particularity was famously described by Zhu Xi as “one structural coherence that is manifested in different particular forms 理一而分殊.” This phenomenon of particular, multifarious structural coherences was already mentioned in the Zhuangzi, a work particularly important for Wei-Jin philosophers. However, for the present explanation of the connection between yi and li, it is important to note that its oneness in the sense of the fundamental cosmic structure has been understood as being defined by a basic coherent order, continuously (re)established in countless forms of particularities. Hence, Zhu Xi argued that “the structural coherence of nature is contained in each single thing 然一物之中, 天理完具.” This coherent unification of particular, concrete structural orders with one single, general and basic structure only became possible through a progressive semantic abstraction of the term li. This process lasted several centuries and must be viewed within the wider context of more general changes in Chinese culture and society. In practical terms, it was defined by the political and economic development of traditional China, while ideologically it was the result of the establishment and formalization of Confucianism as the state doctrine, the new approaches formulated by Neo-Confucian philosophies, and certain elements of Buddhist philosophy. It is thus by no means coincidental that one of the most relevant elaborations of this concept was made in the transitional, culturally agitated period of the Wei-Jin. Wang Bi has compared the unity of the great, all-embracing structure to the eternity of Dao: “Just like Dao has it great constancy, the coherent structure has its great perfection 道有大常, 理有大致” (Lou 1999: 126). And the coherent nature of this great unity was then seen as the source of genuine (rational) knowledge: If we recognize the great perfection of things, we can obtain knowledge of them just by reasoning without having to act on them. As soon as we recognize the origin of things, we can name them without having to see them because we have comprehended their structural coherences of rights and wrongs.

得物之致, 故雖不行而慮可知也。識物之宗, 故雖不見, 而是非之理可得而名也 (Lou 1999: 126).

The oneness of li nicely fits into the holistic monism of the substantial root (ti 體) of each hexagram as developed by Wang Bi in his commentaries on the Classic of Changes. These substances were namely coherent and inherently congruent entities because, according to Wang, the plurality of entities cannot function as a basic or controlling instance of the plurality of different forms of existence. This uniform root is the basic reason for any kind of existence because all of its phenomenal forms or functions (yong 用) arise due to their sprouting from the same origin. All the colorful diversity of existence is hence following a single and uniform code of structural coherence that guides and orders both the functioning of each particular thing, and their mutual interactions. Therefore, Wang believed that even though all

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that exists (wanwu 萬物) is complex, it is not chaotic but rather well-ordered. Li is an expression of this single, albeit complex order. This complex order was a unified, coherent oneness. The wholeness of this order was necessarily formless and hence nameless. Names can never exist in this oneness, for they can occur only in the sphere of the concrete phenomena in which things can be distinguished from each other: All names are born from the forms. Forms can never be born from the names. If there is a name, there must hence be a (corresponding) form and if there is a form, there must be distinctions.

凡名生於形, 未有形生於名者也。故有此名必有此形, 有此形必有其分 (Lou 1999: 199).

The namelessness of the oneness points to its nature, which is the nature of absence (wu). In his comments to Laozi’s chapter 39, Wang Bi first explains that all things are produced by this oneness: One is the beginning of numbers and also the ultimate of things. All things are produced by the one and this is why it is their master. The one is also what enables all things to achieve their completion.

一, 數之始而物之極也。各是一物之生, 所以為主也。物皆各得此一以成 (Lou 1999: 105).

Because absence is also the origin of everything that exists, it is somehow logical that they both—oneness as well as absence—are the same. In his explanation of chapter 42, Wang Bi explicitly confirms this identity: Ten thousand things have ten thousand forms but, in the end, they all return to oneness. But how did they obtain the perfection of this oneness? From absence. Oneness comes from absence. Actually, they are the same.

萬物萬形, 其歸一也, 何由致一, 由於無也。由無乃一, 一可謂無 (Lou 1999: 117).

While oneness is thus identifiable with absence, it is also connected, as we have seen in the beginning of this section, with the “great perfection” stage of the structural coherence. But in its combination with the name, and as a part of the mingli compound, the coherent structure is not all-embracing and indivisible but pertains to the comprehension and communication of the particularities in the concrete world of phenomena.

7  From Mingjiao to Mingli As its name suggests, the notion of mingli semantic system is not only connected with the coherent structure of li, but also with the theories of naming. Because of the far-reaching discontent with the orthodoxy of Han Confucianism, numerous Xuanxue debates spun around the relationship between the doctrines of names

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(mingjiao) that have aimed to determine the standard naming (i.e., the normative criteria of values and valuations) on the one hand, and the basic attitude of naturalness in the sense of authentic and spontaneous self-so (ziran 自然) on the other.26 Although both ideas proceed from a striving for an ideal world, to which the chaotic present society has to return sooner or later, they were often seen as standing in mutual opposition. (Chan 2019: 18). Both Ji Kang and Ruan Ji believed that the dominant doctrines of names were harming naturalness. A human being could either follow the standards and laws of society, or go with the flow of nature. For them, surpassing the mingjiao sphere does not imply leaving the world behind: The point is not renunciation but radical change by reorienting one’s sense of propriety and value. This not only invites philosophical debate but also gives impetus to an avant-garde counter-culture development which adds a tinge of romanticism to the Xuanxue movement (Chan 2019: 18).

Even though at a first glimpse nomothetic norms with their imperatives that are imposed upon a human being from outside are almost necessarily understood as being in contradiction with any form of genuine authenticity or spontaneity, this was not always the case: For Wang Bi, it is clear that government and society should ideally conform to the principles of ziran, as they stem from the same “root.” Guo Xiang is even more specific in arguing that the norms and rites that define civilization are not alien to ziran but in principle flow spontaneously from it. The natural bond between mother and child, for example, attests to the inherent harmony between ideal mingjiao and ziran. Although decay and corruption may have set in, the ethics of naturalness does not seek to escape from the roles and responsibilities of sociopolitical life (Chan 2019: 18).

They both agree in identifying certain universal structures that exist beneath the order of nature (which these structures simultaneously define), and they both are convinced that people should act in accordance with them. But irrespective of the particular attitudes towards the mingjiao and its role in human life, most of the Xuanxue philosophers showed an ample interest in their theoretical foundations, namely in the debates about ming and shi, that were searching for the most coherent mutual relation between names (in the sense of concepts) and actualities. In the context of these debates, which underlay the mingjiao doctrines, the philosophers of the Wei-Jin period have tried to upgrade the Nomenalist, Legalist, and Mohist disputes. It was in this process of lively disputes that the mingli concept was developed to become a theoretical system, based upon the structural coherence of names or concepts. In Liu Xie’s 刘勰 Wenxin Diaolong 文心雕龍, this process was described in the following way:

 “Spontaneity was commonly associated with the teachings of the Laozi and Zhuangzi, while moral endeavor, the ‘teaching of names’ concerned with the ordering of society, was associated with Confucianism, which had been the dominant official ideology throughout most of the Han dynasty.” Ziporyn 2015: 399.

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Already in the beginning of the Wei dynasty, the Nomenalists and the Legalists came in fashion. Fu Gu and Wang Can,27 for instance, were very proficient in the coherent structuring of names.

魏之初霸, 術兼名法; 傅嘏王粲, 校練名理 (Fan 2006: 327).

According to Tang Yiming, the reason for this particular interest lay in the unstable social conditions prevailing at that time: The restoration of social order became a pressing matter for the ruling class. The doctrines of the School of the Names and the Legalist School were thus taken seriously by the scholar-official class (Tang 1992: 59).

The third school which also came into fashion at the time was Mohism. What these three schools had in common was their interest in Chinese semantic logic and the coherent structure of names (mingli) certainly represents an important part of it. In the following decades, Daoism became more important to Wei-Jin scholarship, but their interest in the Nomenalist, Mohist, and Legalist Schools never fully abated, resulting in essential and paradigmatic changes to their original theories. In their disputes on names (concepts) and actualities, the classical philosophy from the pre-Qin and Han eras was still rooted in a realist understanding of reality as the objective external world or external forms of things. Through their forms, the objects of external reality were mutually linked by an all-encompassing network of structural relations that were seen as the essence of li.28 In the Wei-Jin period, however, we encounter a new connotation of this term, which began with elaborations on the mingli concept in the sense of the semantic structure. Of course, the origins of the notion of mingli can also be traced back to pre-Qin disputes. In these original views, the semantic orders that underlay the naming of objects had to be chosen in accordance with the structural forms of these objects. This basic presumption did not really change during the Han era. In his Comments of a Recluse (Qianfu lun 潛夫論), the Confucian scholar Wang Fu 王符 (102–167 CE) emphasized that: Those who coherently structure (constitute and order) the names have to do so in accordance with actualities.

名理者必效於實 (Wang, VII: 3).

In this view, language had to follow reality, which was seen as being objective and primary. In the classical Confucian theory of proper names (Zhengming lun 正名 論), this relation was constituted in the opposite way, for the (proper) names bore in themselves the essence of actualities. In this ancient view, reality should develop in accordance with the proper names (zhengming 正名). But in both cases, the relation  Fu Gu (209–255  CE) was an intellectual opponent of He Yan and Xiahou Xuan 夏侯玄 (209–254 CE) in that he believed a person’s talents were an expression of their character (cai xing tong 才性同) and not part of their inborn nature (xing wu benti 性無本體). Wang Can (177–217 CE) was the great uncle of Wang Bi. 28  Here, we could mention numerous definitions of the structural order of language as seen in the Mozi, Xunzi, Guanzi, etc.

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between names and actualities was direct and causal. In Xuanxue discourse, however, the naming of reality was no longer understood as something directly connected with particular things, and even less as something that would form a part of them. It rather belonged to a coherent structural network in which particular names were connected, but at the same time, mutually distinguished. Wang Bi placed special emphasis on these distinctions because without it, no definitions of particular names was possible which would, in turn, eliminate any possibility to establish a coherent structure of naming: If we are not able to dispute particular names (concepts), we cannot speak about their structural coherence; if we cannot determine them, we cannot discuss actualities.

夫不能辯名, 則不可與言理; 不能定名, 則不可與論實也 (Lou 1999: 199).

In his methodology, Wang Bi strove to create a new form of hermeneutics based upon a search for the meaning that is hidden within the structure of the whole text: We first search for the meaning (of individual concepts), then infer their structural coherence.

尋而後既其義, 推而後盡其理 (Lou 1999: 197).

This structural coherence was seen as a network of relations, as a coherent semantic system, the development of which constituted a new philosophical discipline. Indeed, many renowned theoreticians would compete in the debates and disputes regarding this notion. It is, therefore, hardly coincidental that the mingli discourse had a far-reaching impact on the developments of various fields within the later course of Chinese intellectual history.

8  Theoretical Innovations The aforementioned new method of inferring from the branches to the root doubtless belongs to the most striking theoretical innovations that were brought about by the proponents of the Xuanxue movement, hence we will return to it shortly and explain it in more detail. Before doing so, let us take a look at some paradigmatic problems underlying the establishment of this new method. The first question we have to answer is how this new concept of mingli was linked to the philosophically important modifications of the three aforementioned notions of absence, structural coherence, and oneness. As we have seen, the latter notion (i.e., oneness) represents a comprehensible link between all three ideas. Since it is all-embracing, it cannot have any particular form and thus, it cannot be named. Since namelessness belongs to absence, absence and oneness are just two different manifestations of the same thing. The highest, grandest, and ultimate form of structural coherence is likewise all-embracing and all-pervading. Since it represents the coherent unification of all existing structural relations, it is likewise formless and nameless and cannot be comprehended or conveyed by linguistic communication. All three notions are

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actually different facets of Dao, the nameless and formless origin of all existing things, and while they might be similar to its conditional nature, we must be cautious not to think about Dao, li and wu in terms of absolute equations or identities. Dao cannot be named, but it can be, as many contemporary scholars think, “deconstructed by language and naming 名使道分.”29 I do not think Dao can be “deconstructed” for I believe that only things that have been constructed can be deconstructed. It doubtless holds true, on the other hand, that naming could reveal the structural coherence behind it and this revelation took place in Xuanxue discourses under the guise of mingli. The concept of mingli, however, was, among other issues, also tightly connected to the question of the relation between language and meaning, which was discussed in the previous sections. Such a linkage between names (or concepts) and meaning was something not tackled by any of the pre-Qin or Han philosophers. It thus doubtless belongs to the most striking theoretical innovations of the Wei-Jin period. As we have seen, most of the dominant philosophers of this period have proceeded from the presumption that language, even in its broadest sense (i.e., including images and symbols) cannot exhaustively express meaning. But in their disputes, the question of meaning itself also gained a new dimension. Their “metaphysical style” was not reduced to a search for the method that could help them to surpass the superficial modes of subjective cognition. In addition, they also began investigating the structure of meanings (yili 意理) in a way that was no longer limited to the sphere of the concrete, empirical, and allegedly objective, external actuality (Tang 1955: 68). In this context, Zeng Chunhai explains: “Meaning” is that, which is, as best as possible, expressed by “symbols” and “words.” Hence “meaning” implies the structural coherence (li) of the realm above the forms30 and it can, therefore, appear in the compound “structural coherence of meaning (yili).” In comparison to such “structural coherence of meaning,” “words” and “symbols” have been established for communication. Because they can build and rely on the traces of forms, they can be used in the realm of concrete phenomena.

意是象和言所欲盡可能所表述的目地; 然而意是形上的理, 合成為意理。言與象 乃因言議比擬意理而設。有形跡可尋可憑藉, 為形而下者 (Zeng 2002: 475).

In Wang Bi’s hermeneutical work, especially regarding his interpretations of the Yijing, the structural coherence of meaning (yili) was the specific structural coherence (i.e., the specific kind of li) that was comprised in the coherent structure of naming (mingli). It was understood as a mental entity, a mental state in which different meanings were mutually connected to form a coherent network of names denoting various particularities in the concrete, tangible, empirical world. Words and symbols were seen as codes that could gradually, level by level, decipher the particular meanings from this structural network.

29 30

 See, for instance, Lin 2016: 2.  Or, the metaphysical coherent structure.

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In Wang Bi’s dual system of root and branches, this method was seen as one that proceeds from the branches back to the root (see Zeng 2002: 475).31 This was a form of reasoning that could be compared to the method of induction, which was a ­completely new form of reasoning given that pre-Qin and Han scholars had only operated with the root and branches system for describing holistic processes leading from oneness to particularities. At most, they had been acquainted with a simple form of deductive inference. Although this new inductive method somewhat differed from the “classical” one (i.e., the one that has been developed in the course of European philosophy), it is important to note that this very shift from deduction to induction represented a basis for the specifically Chinese methodology of scientific thought that was not based upon external principles and laws, but upon a network of cohering structural relations in which the reality of concrete empirical phenomena was indivisibly (though not statically and unchangeably) linked to the abstract entities of human thought. In this framework, the structural coherence of names or concepts became a methodological tool by which philosophers could investigate the multifarious relations32 between particular meanings, or between a coherent structure contained in one meaning, and other coherent structures within this relational network (Tang 1955: 74). Besides, the mingli theory was conceived as a discovery of the epistemological dimension of meta-language, which was certainly a higher level of thought than that of simple teachings that merely implied direct and one-dimensional reasoning about things and the external reality. According to Tang Junyi, teachings formulated at this level were more abstract and belonged to higher cognitive levels (Tang 1955: 66). They were teachings about “how teachings were made.” The principles derived from them were principles of “how principles were established.” This new dimension, in turn, would lead Xuanxue philosophers to analyze the relation between human reasoning and their own cognitive concepts and, ultimately, these concepts as such. Investigations and debates on structural semantics were very popular in the intellectual circles of that time and its name (mingli) has gradually also been used to designate philosophy itself (Tang 1955: 66).

9  Conclusion By applying a new metaphysical style (fengdu) of philosophizing, Xuanxue philosophers modified the ancient disputes on the relation between names (concepts) and actualities. They were interested in the relation between language and meaning, which were both elements of names. Their new interest in exploring the coherent  This kind of inductive process had a twofold structure, beginning with words that were used to obtain an insight into the symbols (i.e., 尋言以觀象. See Lou 1999: 609), which were then used as a tool which can help us to grasp the meaning (i.e., 尋象以觀意. See Lou 1999: 609). 32  For instance, the relations between identity and difference or the relations between absence and presence. 31

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structure of concepts or names arose in this new framework. This mingli discourse represented a new method of inferring from the concrete denotations of the empirical world to the underlying coherent network of semantic structures. In this way, Xuanxue philosophers produced one of the most important theoretical shifts in the history of traditional Chinese thought. Their discourses on the structural coherence of names can also be seen as the germ of a structural semantic, which is similar to the one that has been developed by Western linguistic discourses more than one and half millenniums later.

Bibliography Bauer, Wolfgang. 2000. Geschichte der chinesichen Philosophie. München: C.H. Beck. Chai, David. 2010. “Meontology in Early Xuanxue Thought.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 37.1: 90–101. Chai, David. 2014. “Daoism and wu 無.” Philosophy Compass (Chinese Comparative Philosophy section), 9: 663–671. Chai, David. 2019a. Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chai, David. 2019b. “Nothingness and Selfhood in the Zhuangzi.” In Alexus McLeod, ed., The Bloomsbury Research Handbook of Early Chinese Ethics and Political Philosophy, 133–154. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Chan, Alan K.L. 2019. “Neo-Daoism.” Available online: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ neo-daoism/. Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Chen, Rongjie 陳榮捷. 2006. “He Yan’s On Dao 道論.” In Selected Writings from Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學文獻選編, 300–301. Nanjing: Fenghuang Chubanshe. Chen, Shou 陳壽. n.d. Records of the Three Kingdoms 三國志. Available online: https://ctext.org/ sanguozhi. D’Ambrosio, Paul. 2016. “Guo Xiang on Self-so Knowledge.” Asian Philosophy, 26.2: 119-132. Fan, Wenlan 范文瀾. 2006. Commentary on Literary Mind and Carving of Dragons 文心雕龍注. Beijing: Renmin Wenxue Chubanshe. Graham, A.C. 1978. Later Mohist Logic, Ethics and Science. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Li, Jingde 黎靖德. 1986. Classified Conversations of Zhu Xi 朱子語類. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Li, Zehou 李泽厚. 1994. The Path of Beauty: A Study of Chinese Aesthetics. Gong Lizeng, trans. Hong Kong: Oxford University Press. Lin, Guanghua. 2016. Studies on ‘The Debate on Words and Meaning’ in Weijin Xuanxue 魏晉玄 學言意之辨研究. Beijing: Shehui Kexue Wenxian Chubanshe. Liu, Yiqing 劉義慶. n.d. A New Account of Tales of the World 世說新語. Available online: https:// ctext.org/shi-shuo-xin-yu. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1983. Nineteen Lectures in Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學十九講. Taibei: Xuesheng Shuju. Rošker, Jana S. 2012. Traditional Chinese Philosophy and the Paradigm of Structure (Li 理). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

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Rošker, Jana S. 2017. “Structural Relations and Analogies in Classical Chinese Logic.” Philosophy East & West, 67.3: 841-863. Rošker, Jana S. 2018. “Epistemology in Chinese Philosophy.” Available online: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/chinese-epistemology. Shen, Weihua 沈維華. 2018. The Three Mysteries and the Distinction between Language and Meaning in the Wei-Jin Period 魏晉三玄與言意之辨. Taipei: Wenshizhe. Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1955. “On the Six Meanings of the Word Li in Chinese Philosophical Thought 論中國哲學思想中理之六意.” Xin Ya Xuekan, 1.1: 45–160. Tang, Yiming. 1992. The Voices of Wei-Jin Scholars: A Study of Qingtan, Ph.D.  Dissertation, Columbia University. Tang, Yongtong 湯用彤. 2000. “The School of Treasuring the Absence: Wang Bi 貴無之學: 王弼.” In Chen Guying 陳鼓應, ed., Studies in Daoist Culture 道家文化研究, volume 8, 277–285. Taibei: Wenzheshi. Wan, Shengnan 萬繩楠. 1994. “A Brief Discussion of the Establishment, Currents, and Impact of Xuanxue 略談玄學的產生, 派別與影響.” Kongzi Yanjiu, 3: 7–8. Wang, Fu 王符. n.d. Comments of a Recluse 潛夫論. Available Online: https://ctext.org/qian-fu-lun. Wang, Xianshen 王先慎. 2013. Collected Explanations on Hanfeizi 韩非子集解. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Zeng, Chunhai 曾春海. 2002. The History of Philosophy During the Two Han Dynasties and in the Wei and Jin Periods 兩漢魏晉哲學史. Taibei: Wunan. Zhang, Dainian 張岱年. 2003. Some Methodological Problems from the History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史方法論發凡. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. n.d. Collected Writings of Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤集. Available Online: http:// sangle.web.wesleyan.edu/etext/song-qing/song-qing.html. Ziporyn, Brook. 2012. Beyond Oneness and Difference: Li 理 and Coherence in Pre-Neo-­ Confucian Chinese Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press. Ziporyn, Brook. 2015. “Guo Xiang: The Self-So and the Repudiation-cum-Reaffirmation of Deliberate Action and Knowledge.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 397–423. Dordrecht: Springer. Jana S. Rošker is Professor of sinology and one of the founders of the Department of Asian Studies at the Faculty of Arts, University of Ljubljana. She is chief editor of the academic journal Asian Studies and founder and first president of the European Association for Chinese Philosophy (EACP). Her research interests and publication areas are mainly in the fields of classical and m ­ odern Chinese philosophy, methodology of intercultural research, modern NewConfucianism, traditional Chinese theory of perception, and Chinese epistemology.

Part II

Foreshadowing Xuanxue in the Eastern Han

Chapter 4

Oneness in the Taipingjing Barbara Hendrischke

1  Introduction The meanings of oneness (yi 一) are based on that of one, which is the first of all numbers and was also seen as their source, from which are derived associations with priority in time and rank.1 The long list of the meanings of one that is suggested in the Hanyu Da Cidian shares several important points with that provided in the New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary. In both dictionaries the word is shown to be put to contradictory use since it points to the whole that is comprised of multiple items, as well as to the particularity of an item that is included in what is a whole. “One” thus has to do with sameness and with an integration of parts and purposes and also with singleness and solitariness.2 However, the field covered by oneness as it appears

 Solomon points to Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) when he argues that at times one, being seen as the source of numbers, was not considered to be a number. Solomon 1954; Lou 1999: 547–548. In the Taipingjing one plays both roles: “One is the beginning of numbers 一者数之始也” and “numbers originate in one 数起於一.” Wang 1979: 129.335; Wang 1979: Chao, 709. Wang Ming’s 1979 edition of the text is quoted by section and page number. Chao refers to the Taipingjing Chao 太平經鈔, a Tang dynasty digest of the Taipingjing that allows access to most of those parts of the texts that have been lost. See Espesset 2013. Wang has integrated the Chao into his edition of the Taipingjing. See also below, note 6. Wording and punctuation of Wang’s edition have been much improved by that of Yu (2001), which is always consulted, and so are Yang’s (2013) commentary and translation. 2  For a philosophical discussion of oneness, see Manfred Zahn 1973.

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B. Hendrischke (*) China Studies Centre, University of Sydney, Mosman, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_4

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in the philosophical environments of pre-Han and Han dynasty times is narrower.3 Oneness is here seen as opposed to duality and also to multiplicity in the sense of various things moving each into different directions. Since the concept touches on wholeness and unity, as well as priority, it represents a value.4 This is also the case for its use in the Scripture on Great Peace (Taipingjing 太平經) where self-­ cultivation focuses on “retaining oneness” and social peace is proposed to result from unity, as will be shown in the following. This chapter starts with a brief account of the text of the Taipingjing. The next topics are the power that is assigned to oneness in the cosmic realm and the quest to maintain this power in the sphere of human action by “retaining oneness.” We will then turn to modes of unification that range from the ordering of concepts and ranks to social communalism and cultural unification. These ideas are expressed without reference to the term yi 一 but belong to the full picture of unity as the ground for ordering things and evaluating policies. The last topic is about warnings against trust in something of pure oneness that does not consist of the many and, therefore, remains without any real diversification or multiplicity. To be one in this sense is to do things on one’s own, in an isolated, separate manner as if contemptuous of uniform cosmic and social standards.

2  The Text of the Taipingjing The Taipingjing was edited in the sixth century from materials that in the main go back to the second century CE. While this edition is documented in several contemporary hagiographical sources, the text’s origin and early history remain nebulous (Espesset 2002a: 359–389). However, by language and content it is set apart from the sixth and tied to the second century, before the impact of Buddhism, before Daoist beliefs and practices had gained form, and while the large socially and geographically comprehensive Han Empire was still in place. The text is almost without

3  Robinet (1995) provides a brief introduction to the metaphysical role of “one.” Both Chan and Cao discuss the term at length when introducing the Fanwu Liuxing 凡物流形 of the Shanghai corpus of manuscripts that goes back to the late fourth century BCE. See Chan 2015; Cao 2017. This text (in particular strips 28, 22, and 17) draws a direct line from searching for oneness to knowing and preserving it, and from there to its application for political unification. Strip 17 reads in my translation: “Think of it after you have found the one as if you were to unify all-underheaven and rein over it. Retaining oneness is guiding heaven and earth 得一而思之, 若并天下而 治之守一以為天地旨.” Chan 2015: 290. Cao analyzes the links that reach from here to the Guanzi’s 管子 “Inward Training” (neiye 内業) as analyzed by Roth (1999). 4  For Mencius 孟子, for instance, unity was a value. Hsiao 1979: 167–170. The Mawangdui HuangLao 馬王堆黃老 text Complete Laws (Cheng fa 成法) deals with the cosmic and political power of oneness. Yates 1997: 134–135. For the Huainanzi 淮南子 Meyer points to the relevance of political unification and to the identity with Dao, which is “the only reality outside which there may be nothing else.” Major et al. 2010: 907. Nylan (2008) analyzes the different meanings of unification and oneness when applied to characterizing the empire.

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parallel. Its language is not that used for standard written communication but is close to that of the early Buddhist translations. Both contain vernacular elements (Zuercher 1996; Li 2016). Much of the text is composed of short dialogues ending in longish lectures or sermons. Dialogues are lively and leave more space for students’ questions and arguments than do any other early or medieval materials (Hendrischke 2017b). Although those students lack individual identification, their impact on the proceedings is considerable. Moreover, throughout the text they are told to take notes, and the literary quality of the received text resembles students’ notes rather than a well-composed essay (Hendrischke 2017a: 6).5 The received text of the Taipingjing has been transmitted in the Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏), and that is where it belongs. About 129 of the text’s original 366 sections have been transmitted.6 Its main speaker is introduced as having an abode in a transcendent realm from where he was sent by heaven on an urgent mission.7 He holds the title of Celestial Master. In some resemblance to the Analects (Lunyu 論語), teaching takes place in view of an aim that lies beyond the situation of teacher and students. Their endeavors are meant to lead to better circumstances for all, cosmos as well as humankind, or even, in some parts of the long text, to their survival, since human misconduct has brought both to the brink of destruction. Heaven is said to have initiated this rescue project out of some pity for good people who at present are suffering just as are the bad, but also out of concern for its own future and that of earth. Teaching sessions focus on informing people about the urgent and exclusive need to serve heaven with religious fervor. Since heaven is said to create, direct and maintain life it figures as the most powerful entity in human experience. However, it does not speak. Thus, the first step in serving it is to diagnose its will and intention. 5  The text includes some materials that are assuredly of a later date. They are usually placed at the end of sections. Wang 1979: 77.185f.; 83.211. Sections 162–164 and 168 have parallels in Upper Clarity (shangqing 上清) works. 6  Section titles as included in the Daozang edition probably go back to the sixth century editors and have been fully preserved in a table of contents that is contained in the Dunhuang 敦煌 manuscript S4226. See Espesset 2007; cf. Yang 2013: 2535–2552. According to that table, the following sections deal with oneness: section 15 “Method for retaining oneness by purifying one’s person 清身 守一法;” section 21 “Rejecting what is wrong by cultivating oneness 脩一却邪法;” section 27 “Method for retaining the radiance of oneness 守一明之法;” section 49 “Method for retaining oneness 守一法;” section 152 “Advice on retaining oneness, entering the hut and knowing spirits 守一入室知神戒;” section 212 (cf. Yu 2001: 495 on differences between the Dunhuang table of contents and the received text) “Advice on how three make one family and on five being the number of Yang and fire 三者爲一家陽火數五訣;” section 304 “Advice on how two brings forth one 兩生成一訣;” and section 315 “Advice on how to last long by retaining oneness 守一長存訣.” Sections 152 and 212 are part of the transmitted text; section 49 is not but may have left traces in section 48 that towards the end deals with retaining oneness. Traces of the other sections can be found in the Chao, cf. above note 1. 7  Most materials used in this chapter stem from this textual layer (“Celestial Master group”). Another major layer deals with meetings between an adept and a Great Spirit and is more concerned with correct discipline than with matters of social reform or meditation practice. In this layer (“wei-group”) sections and paragraphs are often introduced by the particle wei 惟. See Espesset 2002b; Hendrischke 2012.

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For this reason, the investigations that are the Taipingjing’s topic have a rather narrow focus. There is little need to analyze situations or concepts that bear no direct relevance to heaven. Moreover, investigations can only be practice-oriented. The aim is to teach people how to know, and in consequence how to perform, what heaven wants to be done. The guesswork conducted by the Master and his students may reflect a political habit of suggesting to a ruler what his commands could or should be. The Master acts as a mediator between heaven and human beings and teaches his students how to do likewise. He is outspoken and leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what heaven wants and that everyone can learn what that is. However, learning is depicted as a complex and demanding process that connects people in a web of mutual relations. Students, once educated, are expected to offer their knowledge to political leaders who, upon utilizing their cultural apparatus, will spread this knowledge among the people at large. In consequence, everyone will learn. We will return to this when dealing with the text’s suggestions for creating a social presence for oneness. The Taipingjing describes a world of writing and reading which touches on the widespread interest in prognostic apocrypha, intensive local literary activities, and the striking growth of the scholarly community that were real features of the first and second centuries CE. Moreover, the text introduces situations of acquiring and transmitting knowledge that touch on customs and values that pervade the intellectual intercourse of the period. The suggestion to learn by reading texts how to improve or even save the world fits well into a period of time when literacy, as well as social and political dissatisfaction, were both on the increase.8 In the context of this Companion, the Taipingjing might appear an outsider in content and style. Its authors present themselves as alien to the metaphysical realms of “pure conversation” and write in a language that lacks the elegance and precision of Xuanxue literati. The Taipingjing’s originality and independence are based not on literary or philosophical expertise but on dramatizing, formalizing and synthesizing articles of belief that may have had a long-hidden period of gestation away from the written tradition and have now been brought forth as if called into action by historical need. The authors create an image of their personal background and values that ties them to the lifestyle and interests of the population at large. Their direction is that of the soteriological models that took shape in the creation of initiatives for political reform, popular movements, violent upheavals, and new forms of communal organization. Some of the authors write as if they were too close to the empire’s subjects to retreat from hope and demands for its reform, or at least for a functioning state. For them, such an institution remains the main source of social order and economic welfare and, therefore, the condition for individual happiness. In other parts of the text, authors develop a code of disciplinary rules that pertain to the celestial bureaucracy and prepare an individual to rise up into a trans-worldly administrative apparatus. However, despite being different, the authors of the Taipingjing share with Xuanxue thinkers several crucial interests, starting with the condemnation of what 8  See Hendrischke 2017a: 7–14; 38–4. On the problem of literacy, see Yates 2010; Nylan 2009: 747. Wang 1992: 39–42 presents a pertinent selection of the Taipingjing’s comments on the social situation, and cf. de Crespigny 2007: 514–515; Ebrey 1986; Ebrey 1996: 84.

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for them is the status quo and what, for Xuanxue thinkers, was the outgoing Han dynasty. From all we know it is not likely that members of the literati community of the late-Han or their successors gained knowledge of Taipingjing materials. However, both groups started from the same historical experience. Both observed the obvious breakdown of the political and intellectual forces that had long been in power. While the opposition to these forces may have been more pronounced in the Taipingjng, both groups established their identity on the failings of prevailing cultural and social habits, practices and teachings. Both agreed that if these teachings did not cause the empire’s destruction, they certainly did not prevent it and on this basis entered into alternative modes of thinking. Their teachings were therefore strikingly new. Xuanxue thinkers and the authors of the Taipingjing also saw the need to ground these new teachings in Daoist thought. They hence reached out to a tradition that had taken a back seat in the empire’s official ideology and could not, for this reason, be held responsible for the dynasty’s breakdown. It was in Daoism that both groups found what they saw as a hardly utilized but highly promising formula for either social peace or individual contentment, or both. Ideas on the value of life that were documented and explained in pre-Qin Daoist texts gained particular importance, and the authors of the Taipingjing derived from them new strategies for collective organization. Ruler and subjects were imagined to share an interest in life and to act accordingly from wherever they were situated. Communal togetherness was thus seen as activated and sustained by everyone’s interest in the quality and expansion of their own life. The demands for “retaining oneness” and balancing Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 are good examples of this. Daoism has many facets, and neither the Taipingjing nor Xuanxue is monolithic. Strong if not violent skepticism regarding aspects of social hierarchy and social conventions prevailed in both intellectual environments. The thought that life can be prolonged and that immortality is possible was essential for the Taipingjing and attractive to a number of literati, as was the figure of the sage. In the Taipingjing the sage often appears in joyful control of his own person and of the community he is in charge of. Moreover, the reward that its authors see fit for someone who has created peace among the people around him is the freedom to escape into spiritual excursions. Following the Zhuangzi 莊子, this escape is called “roaming” (you 游).

3  Primordial Oneness When speculating about the cosmos’ origin, which he rarely does, the Celestial Master puts oneness at the very beginning.9 The students raise the question “Why does the figure of heaven happen to be one?” which takes up the Master’s proposition “heaven’s figure is one 天者數一” (Wang 1979: 65.147).10 The Master replies:  For an interesting comparison with Ge Hong’s concept of mystery (xuan 玄), see Gil Raz’s chapter in this Companion. 10  It is also proposed that due to their cosmological rank, heaven is connected to one, as earth is to two and humans to three. Wang 1979: 53.75. 9

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一者, 其元氣純純之時也。元氣合無理, 若風無理也, 故都合名為一也。一凝成 天。天有上下八方, 故為十也。又有五方, 各自有陰陽, 故數十也 ⋯⋯ 數俱於十 乃生, 故人象天數, 至十月乃生也。一者, 正是其施和洞洞之時也, 已 (愛) [受] 施 者, 反當象天數, 十月乃出, 故數終於十。故一者乘十 (Wang 1979: 139.392).11

This account depicts an episode in the cosmogonic chain that connects the myriad things to one remote source. It talks of the undifferentiated mass of original oneness, how it first congealed into heaven and earth and how human beings partake in oneness. The Master acts as if answering the students’ question but in doing so points to what he sees as important and thereby sidelines the exact question. He sets up a cosmogonic context in which the true figure of heaven appears to be ten, as documented in the existence of the ten directions, however they are defined. Heaven is only linked to the figure one by being the first entity to appear. If read correctly, the second last sentence is of interest. It states that human beings as a species are direct recipients of oneness and depend on heaven only in regard to the form by which they put oneness to use. Oneness is thereby set up as a principle on which heaven, as well as Dao 道, depends.12 While the Master takes these cosmic circumstances for granted, his interest and that of the Taipingjing lies in what happened “after the separation between heaven and earth 天地開闢以來” and the beginning of history (Wang 1979: 58.96). Within this time sphere heaven, although dependent—it is with earth and human beings’ part of a trinity, and is long-lasting but not eternal—is seen as absolutely dominant in its relationship to human beings. It may

11  Here, ai 愛 “to love” is corrected to shou 受 “to receive.” Yang 2013: 1328. The belief in the cosmogonic role of oneness is well documented; see for instance Daodejing 道德經 chapter 42 (Lau 1989: 62) and Fanwu Liuxing strip 21: “One brings forth two, two three, three the female and the female beings about connections 一生兩, 兩生參, 參生女, 女成結.” Chan 2015: 290. See also passages in the Huainanzi chapter “yuandao 原道.” Lau and Ames 1998: 106–109. 12  One is called Dao’s root (gen 根). Wang 1979: Chao, 12–13; Dao’s hawser (wang 網). Wang 1979: 77.185; cf. Hendrischke 2017a: 108. The authenticity of this passage is doubtful since it contains quotations from the Daodejing and several unusual terms, and “collar around the neck of perfect Dao 夫一, 乃至道之喉襟也.” Wang 1979: 152.410. There has been some discussion about the Taipingjing’s ranking of the highest entities. Asano (1982) argues convincingly that heaven is the most eminent. It is also situated closest to oneness. Puett argues that “the Xiang’er 想爾 commentary appeals to the One as a more primordial being than heaven and earth.” Puett 2004: 21. While this may also hold true for the Taipingjing, it does not prevent its authors from seeing heaven as being in absolute charge of “all under heaven.” To better understand how the Xiang’er commentary to the Daodejing is related to issues of health and longevity, see Ronnie Littlejohn’s chapter in this Companion.

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thus be taken as representing primordial oneness. Therefore, its figure is one and it replicates the creative power of oneness. When thought of as the origin of things, oneness has been entitled tai yi 太一 “the Great One,” as in the Guodian 郭店 text The Great One gives Birth to Water (Taiyi Shengshui 太一生水). In pre-Qin times it became the name of a stellar deity for whom Emperor Wu 武 (r. 141–87 BCE) installed ceremonies of veneration.13 In the School Sayings of Confucius (Kongzi Jiayu 孔子家語) the Great One is called the origin of heaven and earth, of Yin 陰 and Yang 陽, the four seasons and the multitude of demons and spirits.14 While otherwise having little to say on deities, the Taipingjing mentions that, if approached by well-prepared adepts, the Great One will grant an audience and install them with talismans.15 The energy of primordial oneness remains in place after the world, divided as we know it, has taken shape. How the power of oneness is observed and how people make use of it is foregrounded in a somewhat disconnected paragraph from the Chao that may here, as is often the case, digest separate passages from one chapter of the original text. Still, what is said about oneness is coherent: It replicates primordial oneness and is as such the beginning of Dao and of life. Therefore, it dominates the human body and someone’s conduct: We all know that oneness is the root of Dao and the beginning of qi, is what life depends on and what dominates the heart of everything … A person’s root is inside, boughs and branches are outside. If someone retains oneness, he makes what is outside return and quickly brings to order what is within, escorts back what is distant, and brings to order what is near. Someone retaining one is assisted by heaven’s spirits, someone retaining two by spirits of earth, someone retaining three by spirits of the dead, and someone who retains four or five by spooks … Therefore, the oneness of the head is the neck, that of the seven sense organs the eye, that of the belly the navel, that of the blood vessels qi, that of the five internal organs the heart, that of the four limbs the heart of hands and feet.

 Li gives a full account of the presence of taiyi 太一 in received texts and archaeological findings. See Li 1995–1996. 14  See Lau 1992: 32.58.7, “liyun 禮運” chapter. 15  See Wang 1979: 160.450: “If you do not want to come to an end, you should together with qi become the mysterious female and emulate heaven in doing so. Then how could you come to death? However, [this method] cannot be immediately obtained. Thus, you should make for yourself a dark room. Enter the room and contemplate Dao. Naturally you do not eat and stay tied to qi. Since you end up as a spirit of heaven and earth, you no longer associate with secular governance. You then follow the Great One of heaven. You will have an audience in the Central Pole [the celestial Hall of Light], receive a talisman, and be on your way in a circular movement that reaches into all six directions and extends to the eight distances. You will never be exhausted 子欲不終窮, 宜 與氣為玄牝, 象天為之, 安得死也.亦不可卒得, 乃成幽室也.入室思道, 自不食與氣結也. 因為 天地神明畢也, 不復與於俗治也.乃上從天太一也, 朝於中極, 受符而行, 周流洞達六方八遠, 無窮時也.” Another occurrence of the Great One is in the Chao, excerpting the now-lost section 122 “How to live long by obtaining Dao 得道長存,” where it is suggested to adepts that they “will discard common thoughts, meet with spirits, rise up to the clouds and ride on a dragon, share an abode with Duke of Thunder, be physically transformed into a spirit and shaped like the Great One 俗念除去, 與神交結, 乘雲駕龍, 雷公同室, 軀化而為神, 狀若太一.” Wang 1979: 306. The authenticity of this passage is doubtful: its content and style are unusual. It is written in regular lines of four or seven characters, many of which rhyme. Yu 2001: 255. 13

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夫一者, 乃道之根也, 氣之始也, 命之所繫屬, 衆心之主也 ⋯⋯ 人之根處內, 枝葉 在外, 令守一, 皆使還其外, 急使治其內, 追其遠, 治其近。守一者, 天神助之。守 二者, 地神助之。守三者, 人鬼助之。四五者, 物祐助之 ⋯⋯ 故頭之一者, 頂也。 七正之一者, 目也。腹之一者, 臍也。脈之一者, 氣也。五藏之一者, 心也。四肢 之一者, 手足心也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 12–13).16

Oneness is here introduced as the handle for managing everything and even Dao.17 Its eminence is said to come to the fore in the success of people who retain it which is an established form of dealing with oneness, as documented in the Daodejing, the Guanzi’s “Inward Training” chapters, and elsewhere.18 In general, oneness is said to be retained or to be protected and defended as if it were the original, natural state of things while it is less often to be searched for or obtained (de 得).19 Since most of what the authors have to say about oneness is put forth by promoting the need to retain it, this chapter will follow suit and deal with the aims and methods of “retaining oneness” before returning to a brief résumé of what “oneness” may mean.20

4  The Retaining of Oneness (shou yi 守一) The Taipingjing’s Celestial Master speaks of “retaining oneness” in such a placative manner that it appears to be the label and motto of his school:

16  The retaining of two and three is said to be not as efficient as the retaining oneness. Wang 1979: 724. Eskildsen (2015: 37) suggests that this refers to a hierarchy of meditation methods. This may also pertain to the passage at hand. It agrees with the proverbial wisdom that one should narrow one’s focus if aiming for results. 17  In the Daodejing, much of what is said about oneness could also be said about Dao which is a term whose spiritual component is seldom featured in the Taipingjing. Zhang Dainian (2002: 103–104) points to the subtle details in the relationship between the two concepts. 18  More than half of the mentions of oneness in the Daodejing connect it with a verb that points to possession: bao 抱 “to hold” (Daodejing, chapters 10 and 22) and de 得 “to obtain” (Daodejing, chapter 39). In Guanzi’s “Neiye” it is the object of shou 守 “to retain” and zhi 執 “to hold fast.” Roth 1999: 93; 63. The Fanwu Liuxing (strip 23) speaks of “retaining oneness.” Chan 2015: 290. 19  For examples of “obtaining,” see notes 3 and 18. 20  Xu (2014a) simplifies matters with a neat-looking overview of how the authors of the Taipingjing understood “retaining oneness.” He argues that they inherited from pre-Qin thinkers the coupling of individual and state, the return to the root and self-reflection as the three aspects of the term’s meaning and added to them the belief in the Great One, Han dynasty speculations on primordial qi, and the practices of breathing that bring about control over the body spirits. He also proposes that they connected the term to Confucian moral norms and that it became thereby indirectly involved in reducing the inherited load of trespasses. While all these components do play a role, the resulting picture looks wrong. The individuals whom the authors of the Taipingjing link to running the state were not those depicted by the old philosophers; for the authors self-reflection was a new technique that relied on maintaining a dialogue with spirits and with heaven. Moreover, the concept of primordial qi goes back to pre-Han times, and it remains unclear how important it was for the Taipingjing’s argumentation. Importantly, the moral norms that are praised in the Taipingjing may have Confucian names but not necessarily content.

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Retaining [oneness]: once you match what it aims at, teaching (Dao) is done and has been accomplished … Oneness is, as we know, the collar around the neck of the best teachings. It is what a superior person is delighted to obtain, an average person is keen to know and a lowly person finds obnoxious.

守此得其意者, 道已畢矣竟矣 ⋯⋯ 夫一, 乃至道之喉襟也。上士所樂德, 中士所 響知, 下士之所疾惡也 (Wang 1979: 152.410; Hendrischke 2017a: 123–124).

Oneness is said to be of profit to people of all abilities and ranks and a prerequisite for all learning and achievement.21 The main reason lies in its life-giving energy: Oneness is the way of bringing to life and where primordial qi arises from. It is the hawser and the standard of heaven. Therefore, if you keep thinking of oneness you move from high above to effect changes down below.

一者, 生之道也; 一者, 元氣所起也; 一者, 天之綱紀也.故使守思一, 從上更下也 (Wang 1979: 48.60; Luo 1996: 110).

The Master then explains that beings are, in general, too interested in boughs and branches to hang onto the root, that is to oneness and, therefore, die young without achieving anything. In this passage, what a person must “keep thinking of” may resonate primordial oneness but, at a different level, is the practical tool or a state of mind, as one might put it, by which to order and in consequence control a concrete diversity or multiplicity of things. The praise for adhering to oneness as a mode of thinking and living was wide-­ spread.22 If isolated from its context, the term “thinking of oneness” as in the above quotation may in a more simplistic fashion consist in learning how to restrain one’s feelings (yong xin zhuan yi 用心專一) (Wang 1979: 157.442) as opposed to making much of them and thereby getting things wrong. This advice touches on the need to be of one mind (yi xin 一心). To be of two minds is certain to end in defeat, as proposed among others by Xunzi 荀子 who states: “All under heaven does not have two ways and the wise man is not of two hearts 天下無二道, 聖人無兩心” (Wang 1988: 21.386). This is arguably what is meant when Mencius suggests that a ruler’s adherence to oneness (ding yu yi 定于一) will gain him the people’s support (Jiao 1987: 3.71; Lau 1970: IA.53).23 Moreover, “the retaining of oneness” although closely  “So for the doctrine (Dao) of how to retain oneness: once we are in possession of [what has been said on] retaining oneness in the past and today, we sort this material into categories. Once men of superior worth and intelligence apply their energy to this, they are capable of transcending their generation. Once worthy men of average rank do so, they are the sovereign’s honest assistants and efficient clerks. Once men of low rank do so, they do not know of joy or anger and the world is without resentment and accusations 是故夫守一之道, 得古今守一者, 復以類聚之。上賢明力 為之, 可得度世; 中賢力為之, 可為帝王良輔善吏; 小人力為之, 不知喜怒, 天下無怨咎也.” See Wang 1979: 152.409–410; cf. Hendrischke 2017a: 122. 22  Ji Kang would say something similar, albeit in terms of harmony (he 和). 23  The passage continues by saying that the ruler must not be fond of killing. In the apparatus of Jiao Xun’s edition commentators have taken this as a cue and created a link from oneness to “origin” (yuan 元) and from there to humanness. That may not be necessary. Mencius’ approach may here be psychological. The ruler who wants to succeed must concentrate on shepherding the people, just as someone intending to learn chess must concentrate on the game rather than think of hunting. See Jiao 1987: 23.781; Lau 1970: 6A.165–166. In the Guanzi’s “xinshu 心術” chapter it is argued that someone who holds fast to oneness (zhiyi 執一) will rule over the myriad things by employing concentration (zhuan 專). Li 2009: 780. 21

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connected to the Taipingjing was also in general use. Heshanggong’s 河上公 commentary on the Daodejing24 has the following passage that the authors of the Taipingjing would fully agree with: “If the sage preserves unity, then he knows about all affairs. Therefore, he can become the empire’s model 聖人守一, 乃知萬 事故能爲天下法式也” (Wang 1993: 90).25 To this esteem for oneness that was shared by pre-Han and Han dynasty thinkers, the authors of the Taipingjing added the new dimension of supplying concrete instruction on how to avail oneself of the power of oneness. For philosophers like Xunzi and Mencius to achieve a unity between one’s diverse capabilities and interests results from those ways of conduct that are the topic of their moral philosophy. The authors of the Taipingjing are more specific. This comes to the fore in the following short dialogue where the text’s Celestial Master argues from a psycho-­ physiological angle. We must remember that the student has a point in that the spectrum of “oneness” is indeed confusingly big: “We beg to ask for more special advice.” “What about?” “Now, what we do not completely understand is ‘oneness.’ What is it?” “Oh, Perfected, you hold onto such a large number of texts. How can you be in doubt about this?” “Now we are confused and in the dark.” “You know that retaining oneness is the completion of the myriad activities. How can you ask for details? You should think about what you are saying.” “Yes.” “Oneness lies in the heart, the conscience, and the will. By thinking, we unify (yi 一) the spirits that are present in our body. That is whereby the world’s affairs are completed. From former times until today, when someone became worthy and wise, he would thereby gain fame. They would study from early on so that heart, conscience and will would become intent on the good … Someone truly able to retain oneness is worthy [of holding office]. As a person, how could he come to harm? In your body you may not be able to reflect yourself in a mirror [but] in your thoughts you must return to self-reflection.”

請問一絕訣說。何等也? 今不審知一者, 何等也? 噫, 真人守文極多, 何故為疑此 邪? 今眩冥也。子知守一萬事畢。子何問眇哉? 宜思其言。唯唯。一者, 心也, 意 也, 志也。念此一身中之神也。凡天下之事, 盡是所成也。自古到今, 賢聖之化, 盡以是成器名, 以其早知學, 其心意志念善也 ⋯⋯ 審能守一, 賢, 身何害? 有身者, 不能還自鏡照, 見念反還鏡身 (Wang 1979: 134.369–370).

In this passage “retaining oneness” points to the unity of one’s person, with “person” being understood as the abode of “the spirits in one’s body.” Since their unification is the task assigned to a person’s mental faculties, “oneness lies in the heart, the conscience, and the will.”26 By way of uniting mind and body, someone becomes able to envisage and communicate with the spirits who reside in her and thereby to gain the access to the whole of her body that guarantees her continued physical existence. Should these spirits leave, she would die:  See Misha Tadd’s contribution in this Companion for more.  The translation is by Erkes (1950: 164). Xu confirms that the term’s origins lie in the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi 莊子 and not in Buddhist thought. See Xu 2014b. 26  When read in this way, the text is fully behind the Xiang’er commentary that opposes the view that superior entities like Dao or oneness are actually present in the human body. Oneness is a body deity neither in the Taipingjing nor in the Xiang’er commentary, as pointed out by Bokenkamp (1993). However, the Xiang’er assigns more physical presence to the one than does the Taipingjing as can be seen in the following passage: “The One does not reside within the human body … it comes and goes within the human body, that’s all. It is there everywhere within your skin, not just in a single spot.” See Mugitani 1985: 10.12–14, as translated by Bokenkamp 1993: 44. 24 25

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The essential teachings of former times as well as of today all say that by retaining oneness, we can exist for a long time without getting old. For someone to know how to retain oneness is what we call teachings that are without limit. Human beings are in their person invariably joined by vital spirits. Bodily form presides over death while vital spirits preside over life. That they remain invariably attached is auspicious. That they leave is inauspicious. Without vital spirits, there is death, with them, life.

古今要道, 皆言守一可長存而不老。人知守一, 名為無極之道。人有一身與精神 常合并也。形者乃主死, 精神者乃主生。常合即吉, 去則凶。無精神則死, 有精 神則生 (Wang 1979: Chao, 716; cf. Hendrischke 2017a: 148).27

We stay alive to the extent that we retain oneness, that is remain aware of our body and practice self-reflection as was suggested in the passage quoted above that talks about mirroring one’s inner self. By means of oneness our capacities gain actuality. The Taipingjing’s advice on why and how to retain oneness reaches its climax in a rare instruction on a regimen of controlled breathing: The method of the radiance that comes with retaining oneness is the root of living long. Well-controlled, the myriad spirits appear through a gate of brilliant radiance. The moment of the vital radiance of retaining oneness is like the moment a fire starts: it must quickly be retained with nothing left out. It starts being entirely red, ends being wholly white, and for a long time stays bluish green. Let radiance penetrate far into the distance and let it return by applying the oneness [that you retain]. [As a result] nothing inside you is not radiant and the hundred illnesses are turned away. To retain [oneness] without any neglect can be called the art of a myriad years.

守一明之法, 長壽之根也。萬神可祖出光明之門。守一精明之時, 若火始生時, 急守之勿失。始正赤, 終正白, 久久正青。洞明絕遠復遠, 還以治一, 內無不明也, 百病除去。守之無懈, 可謂萬歲之術也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 16).28

 This excerpt is from section 315 (now lost) of the original text that was entitled “Advice on how to last long by retaining oneness.” What body spirits are and how they should be handled is explained in more detail in section 108 of the Taipingjing. See Hendrischke 2017a: 160–173. 28  This and surrounding passages have also been transmitted in Secret Advice by the wise Lord of the Scripture on Great Peace (Taipingjing Shengjun bizhi 太平經聖君祕旨, Daozang 1102) that instructs on the stages by which an adept of retaining oneness becomes capable of accumulating qi, experiencing radiance and envisaging spirits. Date and author are unknown but for good reasons Grégoire Espesset sees it as originating in the second to third centuries CE and in close relationship to the Taipingjing and the Huangtingjing 黃庭經. He also provides a reliable translation and annotation of the text. See Espesset 2009: 34 for the passage at hand. The passage must also be read from the perspective of Stephen Eskildsen’s work who puts the ideas and practices that are proposed in the Taipingjing and related materials in the context of a historical overview of Daoist meditation. See Eskildsen 2015, chapter 2. He understands the One as something “like the primal, universal vital force of Dao that endows all creatures with their essential nature and individual life.” Eskildsen 2015: 38. For the introductory “守一明之法” Secret Advice reads “守一明法 the brilliant method of retaining oneness” as I would render the expression. Livia Kohn has “the practice of guarding the light of the One,” Espesset “la méthode pour préserver l’unité de la luminosité,” and Eskildsen “the method of Guarding the One Light.” See Kohn 1993: 195; Espesset 2009: 38; Eskildsen 2015: 309. For the expression zhi yi 治一, the Secret Advice reads li yi 理一 and the sentence is rendered by Espesset as “faites-la revenir en régulant son unite.” Yang seems to agree when he explains “applying oneness” as combining the three factors of vital energy (jing 精), qi and spirit (shen神) that the introduction to Secret Advice calls the energies that constitute a human being. Yang 2013: 66. 27

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The retaining of oneness became the label for meditation practices that remained an element of the Daoist tradition.29 So what is the oneness that a person must attempt to retain? It is the unity of and with the different energies or spirits within her. Once established, it gains a creative power that reflects that of primordial oneness. Throughout, to understand oneness is to hold it in awe. It is placed on a pedestal as if it were a concept or an entity whose transformative power no one would doubt, be that in a personal or in a larger social context, as shown in the following passage that combines praise for two distinct realms of oneness: Once the people all know about retaining oneness and have already become familiar with Dao, with spirits and with well-aligned texts, when employed as officials of higher and lower rank they will each find their place.30 Once they have implemented what is said in the writings, all six matters [regarding clarity, stillness, luminosity, fullness, vitality and authority] are accomplished with energy, and all over the world people feel that they are one. They do not again dare hate each other but will be filled with love and mutual concern, as if they were all born from the same father and mother. Therefore, the virtuous lord thoroughly matches heaven’s feelings and happily withdraws from business.

人已都知守一, 已入道, 已入神, 已入正文, 以尊卑仕臣, 各得其處也。已行文書, 并力六事已究竟, 都天下共一心, 無敢復相憎惡者。皆且相愛利, 若同父母而生, 故德君深得天心, 樂乎無事也 (Wang 1979: 152.422).

At times, reading the Taipingjing is like perusing a pamphlet that advertises tuition in a course by listing what successful students will gain from it rather than detailing what the course is about. We are here told that the people’s personal “retaining of oneness” is the starting point for social and political unity. The authors add strength to this argument when they attribute to oneness the power to dissolve the load of trespasses that throughout history human beings have inherited and transmitted. This load they see as the source of cosmic disorder and in its lieu human misery:

 They are hinged at the Xiang’er commentary. See Mugitani 1985: 3.15; Bokenkamp 1997: 88–89; and Bokenkamp 1993: 49. Chapter 18 (dizhen 地真) of the Baopuzi 抱朴子 reads like a hymn to unity and is summed up by arguing that the retaining of true unity is the only way to overcome all fear that a person may feel (唯有守真一, 可以切不畏此輩). See Wang: 1980: 300. Ding and Liu investigate a range of Daoist psycho-physiological techniques and in particular embryonic breathing in regard to retaining oneness. Ding and Liu 1986 in interpretation of Wang 1979: 699. Zhang (1999) sees in retaining oneness the background of Neidan Daoism. What is more, since the scholar Xiang Kai 襄楷 (fl. 166–188 CE) applied the term shou yi to Buddha’s mental state and since it occurs in early Buddhist writings, it has been the source of suppositions on the doctrinal interdependence of early Daoist and early Chinese Buddhist teachings on meditation (for Xiang Kai’s memorial, see Hou Hanshu 1964: 30B.1082; de Crespigny 1976). Greene points out that these suppositions are doubtful (Greene 2014). He documents the doctrinal independence of both groups of believers and concludes that their relationship was more complex than has hitherto been proposed. He shows that early Chinese Buddhist teachings often present the contemplation of impurity, which is irrelevant to Daoist concerns, as the basic form of meditation and that the term shou yi, although used for translating “mental restraint” in similarity to its use in Daoist writings, occurs in the early translations also in a non-technical sense. 30  Here, as usual, the authors of the Taipingjing are concerned with the conduct of everyone rather than focusing on the actions of the educated or the ruler, as was customary. Long 2000: 867. 29

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If you want to dissolve the load of trespasses that has been inherited and is passed on, there is nothing better than retaining oneness. If you continue with it, heaven will have mercy on you. Oneness is the standard and hawser of heaven and the root of the myriad things.

欲解承負之責, 莫如守一。守一久, 天將憐之。一者, 天之紀綱, 萬物之本也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 60).

This load, if not dissolved or at least reduced, may cause the end of humankind, earth and heaven, and is also the biggest impediment to the arrival of great peace. It is inherited and transmitted firstly by their rulers but also by the people at large.31 The retaining of oneness agrees with attitudes that are promoted in the Daodejing. It includes the advice to use one’s energies sparingly and focus on the ongoing interconnectedness of actions and events rather than on isolated bits of activity.32 To concentrate on oneness, in this respect, resembles the practice of non-action. Moreover, the term contains the image of a primordial state of things before the beginning of time, which agrees with the Daodejing’s praise for reversal. Oneness as a personal attribute is also, as we have seen, praised by Mencius and Xunzi and other early philosophers. The authors of the Taipingjing intensify these ideas. They intend to change the world by teaching every individual how in person to rely on his oneness, and, in mimicry, suggest general modes of unifying things. When they propagate the value of oneness they mean to install or re-install a state in which the many are each in their proper place—this is not the original chaos—and universal and uniform standards prevail, in a theoretical as well as a practical respect.

5  Modes of Unification To establish coherence and harmony when applied to one’s person may be called the retaining of oneness. There is no single term for other attempts to unify things. We will in the following introduce attempts at unification under the headings of theoretical and of social unity, inadequate as they may be. These attempts address problems that are time-honored. How one is related to the many, genus to species, single items to a mass of things, individuals to a group and the empire’s regions to its center are always questions of interest, when it is intended to create a whole that suits everyone and everything that is in it, in theoretical as well as practical respects. The many, by seeing them as one, are put into a binding relationship with each other that entails mutual conditioning in all directions. They rely on the one as the one relies on them, and under the auspices of the one they also rely on each other. This makes the application of the concept of oneness a precondition for approaching the multiplicity of things in a systematic fashion.

 See Hendrischke 1991; Lai (2000) points out that this concept is essential to the Taipingjing’s view on the relationship between heaven and human beings. 32  This comes to the fore in section 152, particularly page 412. 31

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By defining or re-defining phenomena from the perspective of oneness, the authors manage to unify common perceptions and to create concepts with which to undertake social analysis and criticism. A good example is the detailed account of the degrees of small, medium, great and extreme wealth and poverty that makes both move into each other from opposite directions so that they become one identical set. This set remains nameless but could easily come under a term like “wealth-­ poverty” in parallel to “heavy-light” or “difficult-easy” and other similar constructions. As a next step, the authors put wealth and poverty jointly under the heading of sufficient supply for all and define this as a status that largely depends on harvests and appropriate human conduct (Hendrischke 1999). It is, they argue, incorrect to call an individual wealthy or to call a rich country’s ruler poor should he own little. For the authors, this clarification is the starting point for advice on how to increase collective wealth. The authors’ definition of “need” goes in the same direction. It strictly unifies. Asked about how many needs people have the students answer that what people need is all that may be of use to them. The Master angrily responds: I want to hear what is forever required and must not be done away with; something without which the people who live in this world would be annihilated, and the patterns of heaven turn into a cluster so that nothing to be named would be left.

欲得其常急而不可廢者, 廢之, 天下絕滅無人, 天文并合, 無名字者 (Wang 1979: 44.42).33

What he means is that people must eat and drink, must have sexual relations and, to support both needs, should also have clothes. The same rigid simplification is applied to the term “constraint” (qiong 窮), that is said to appear in stages, tying a person to parents, sexual partner, children and, if possible, in old age to “fixing their thought on retaining Dao 思慮守道” (Wang 1979: 52.72; Hendrischke 2006: 174). These definitions accentuate essential points in the Master’s or the authors’ doctrine. They may create new units of thought, such as the term “wealth-poverty” in the first example. They may also be in support of an aggressive uniformity, as in the case of needs and constraints. Other definitions combine unification with egalitarian designs and thereby become programmatic. That is the case when the authors define the group of people who are expected to achieve great peace. It consists of people of nine ranks that reach from the spirit-like person without body at the top to the serf at the bottom. By doing their particular job, all of them are said to be jointly responsible for achieving the all-encompassing society that will make everyone happy (Wang 1979: 56.88–89). In other cases, the authors analyze diverse phenomena from a unitary angle. They propose, for instance, that to be able to cope, people need to be aware that there is a common source for various bouts of misfortune, ranging from illness to natural disaster and foreign invasion, and they define them all as heaven’s “reproach”  At this point, it suits the Master’s argument to let original oneness, before there were patterns and names, look bleak. Moreover, the passage clarifies that should humankind come to an end, so too would heaven.

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(jian 諫) (Wang 1979: section 59; Hendrischke 2006: 231–240). Although this ­argument resembles general Han dynasty attempts at disaster analysis and prognostication, the authors stick to a separate course when they insist that human misconduct is the only cause of natural irregularities, eclipses being one example (Wang 1979: 133.367). Consequently, they discuss people’s general responsibility for the maintenance of cosmic order and accuse the whole population of mistaken attitudes and wrong behavior (Wang 1979: 110.298–299; Hendrischke 2017a: 190–192). The authors share the intense Han dynasty interest in the concept of “kind” or “category” (lei 類) and make extensive use of this well-established tool for unifying the world’s disturbing diversity of phenomena, as they appear in writings as well as in real life: Everything is named according to kind and figure. What becomes manifest in outline is the significance of all that has been documented in writing, as well as the patterns of Yin and Yang of heaven and earth. From head to foot all is complete and interconnected, upwards and downwards. A thing’s kind is as it is and, on this foundation, we may deliberate what it means.

悉以類象名之。書凡事之至意, 天地陰陽之文, 略可見矣。其頭足皆具, 上繫下 連, 物類有自然, 因共安其意 (Wang 1979: 72.175).34

Those who belong to the same kind are related as are brothers. They are in response to each other and when approached from the outside show the same reaction. Therefore, a stimulus that has an impact on one, has an impact on all of its kind: Soils that fit by means of their qi are related as are older and younger brother. Their people have the same likes and dislikes … As long as qi of waters are related as are older and younger brother, fish and turtle in such waters are similar. When we make this the basis of a prediction, we analyze where something comes from and the affairs of the myriad things can thus be understood.

比其氣相加, 兄弟地也, 其人民好惡同 ⋯⋯ 水氣兄弟者, 其魚虌相類。以是為占, 分別其所出, 萬物凡事, 其可知矣 (Wang 1979: 68.171).

By belonging to a kind, something is included in the correspondences that are authorized by order of the five agents, of stems and branches, or of Yin and Yang. These ordering systems make the course of the world understandable and potentially foreseeable.35 Projects of social unification always entail plans for stratification. Items that belong to a unit are necessarily ranked, for instance as if they were members of a family. Triads function as patterns of unification, as can be seen in heaven, earth and human beings, in that order, or in the ruler, officials and people (Wang 1979:

 For this use of “figure” see also: “What has the same figure has the same physical shape (xing 形). What has a different figure has a different physical shape. Is and is not (shifei 是非) are exactly like this.” Wang 1979: 68.171. Franklin Perkins and Robin Wang have hinted at the role of lei “category” in grouping the multitude of things (wu 物). See Perkins 2018: 63; Wang 2012: 85–96. 35  Another perspective of natural order was put forward by Wang Chong 王充. For more, see Alexus McLeod’s chapter in this Companion. 34

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65.148–149; Espesset 2004: 72).36 However, each of the three, whatever its rank, owes its existence to being one of three. If disunited none would survive. The authors propose that this pattern for unification is manifest in cosmic events: When primordial qi and qi of what is as it is and of great harmony interact, bundle up their energy and are of the same mind they are for a while indistinct and not yet in any shape. When these three qi congeal into form, they bring forth heaven and earth. When heaven, earth and the harmony between them interact, bundle up their energy and are of the same mind, they create all things … When lord, officials and the people interact with each other, bundle up their energy and are of the same mind, they build one country. They all take root in primordial qi, in what is as it is and in heaven and earth to receive life. Whenever three parties interact, Dao can come about and they jointly create harmony. When interaction between three spheres of activity is maintained and all put energy into being of the same mind, they fulfil one common task and achieve one common objective. It would be disastrous if one [of the three] were amiss.

元氣與自然太和之氣相通, 并力同心, 時怳怳未有形也。三氣凝, 共生天地。天 地與中和相通, 并力同心, 共生凡物 ⋯⋯ 君臣民相通, 并力同心, 共成一國。此皆 本之元氣自然天地授命。凡事悉皆三相通, 迺道可成也, 共生和。三事常相通, 并力同心, 共治一職, 共成一事, 如不足一事便凶 (Wang 1979: 65.148–149).37

This is followed by more examples of successful unification, as documented in the three months of a season, or man and woman and the sexual contact between them. Throughout, partners who choose to become one are meant to do so voluntarily in harmonious consensus. Social unity means that “The world jointly puts energy into being of the same mind and becoming one 天下并力同心為一也” (Wang 1979: 152.422).38 People will then combine their planning into one and thereby greatly improve their situation in view of heaven and earth (Wang 1979: 152.412).39 Information on the size of the society that is thus united remains diffuse. Usually, it is a “country” (guo 國) that is on its way to great peace and may, for instance, avoid an eclipse of the sun or the moon by practicing good governance (Wang 1979: 139.391; 134.368). When policies are explained, in particular that of collecting the people’s opinions or of restricting the activities of local bandits, the environment resembles that of a county (xian 縣).40 However, we also read that, to be durable, great peace must be universal and arrive everywhere under heaven: That I now report on all twelve thousand countries as [if they were] one big area is to let you know, Perfected, that they are cause for the same concern and have one identical border in

 Isabelle Robinet (1995) points out that triads are a significant linkage between the one and the many since they are in fact both. 37  Hachiya Kunio has highlighted these ideas in a paper on the terms gong 共, ji 集 and tong 通. Hachiya 1983. 38  This is followed by: “They are bound to communicate regularly and announce to each other what [they deem] good and what evil 必常相與常通語言, 相報善惡.” 39  Another passage deals with the damage that results from individual planning. See Wang 1979: 179.526; Hendrischke 2017a: 201. This passage belongs to the Taipingjing’s “wei-group” of texts. 40  See section 129 for collecting ideas and section 43 for maintaining public order. See also Hendrischke 2006: 105–112. 36

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common … Since today the great mission has started, all twelve thousand countries are linked together.

今故記萬二千國, 乃共一大部, 以與真人, 共一大憂也, 共一界 ⋯⋯ 今者為大化出, 萬二千國歷運周 (Wang 1979: 139.396).41

But irrespective of size, wherever unity, and with it, great peace is installed, it can only be all-inclusive: “With one qi interrupted, all activities go wrong” and “no one in the world will not wish to be in it” (Wang 1979: Chao, 18; Wang 1979: 110.299).42 That a state of unity is necessarily comprehensive comes to the fore in the image of the human body that is seen to function only when all parts cooperate, as has been discussed above (Wang 1979: 134.373). The authors contrast such unity to the status quo, where human beings maltreat each other and all suffer from heaven’s reproach. A symptom of this situation is the load of trespasses that human beings have committed and continue to commit against heaven and each other.43

6  The Unification of Knowledge The authors’ most marked project of achieving manifest and concrete unity is that of bundling and unifying the documentation of all aspects of human knowledge. This project is designed in mimicry of academic study and attributed theoretical as well as decisive practical significance. For the authors, the arrival of great peace relies not only on the ruler and his staff but on everyone’s attitude. Therefore, they devise strategies that allow the people at large to acquire enough learning to distinguish right from wrong. They expect everyone to recite, understand and cherish fixed sets of textual materials. In resemblance to classical studies people are meant to study the same texts that they actively help to create. The people are thus expected to jointly collect all available written and oral materials. This collection includes prognostic texts that are supposedly revealed by heaven, the transmitted wisdom of the sages of the past and sayings by everyone, that is commoners, including women and children and people of different ethnicity. For this reason, the result is expected to be inclusive: Sometimes the spirit-texts of heaven omit something, but the wise texts have grasped it. At other times, wise texts omit something that the texts by worthy men have understood, or these texts neglect something that the hundred surnames in their texts deal with. Or the hundred surnames omit what the Yi and Di tribes have grasped.

41  Since non-Chinese people are frequently mentioned, “what is below heaven” (tianxia 天下) extends well beyond the Chinese empire. See Hendrischke 2006: 86–88. 42  This proposition opens space for the acknowledgement of popular opinion which comes to the fore when infanticide is called harmful because all women object to it (section 41) or when punishments are condemned because of popular objections. See Wang 1979: 64.144–145. 43  See above note 31.

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或天神文失之, 反聖文得之, 或聖文失之, 反賢者文得之, 或賢者文失之, 而百姓文 得之, 或百姓文而夷狄得之 (Wang 1979: 132.352).44

By means of repeated stages of careful selection and edition these materials are digested into a scripture that one may trust: Once the teachings (Dao) are aligned, they are not different from the sun and the moon. Many, many sayings that were uttered by worthy men of high, medium and low rank and by common men and women are collected and arranged by kind so that they prove and explain each other. The texts are bound to be in complete agreement as if drawn by compasses, without the slightest aberration. Predictions [uttered] by heaven, earth and human beings are all in agreement as if they were one. Once this is so, the feelings of heaven, earth and human beings are all there, in the same way as are the twelve thousand things.

道一旦而正, 與日月無異。復大集聚大賢中賢下賢乃及人民男女口辭訣事, 以類 相從, 還以相證明, 書文且大合, 比若與重規合矩, 無殊異也。天地人策俱并合, 比 若一也。如此則天地人情悉在, 萬二千物亦然 (Wang 1979: 152.415).

The document that results from these endeavors is said to be true, in a monopolistic sense. All other materials are not and must consequently be done away with (Wang 1979: 67.170; 69.172; 78.192; 152.416; Hendrischke 2017a: 133). This drastic outcome is matched by the seemingly endless care taken to produce and then distribute the scripture of scriptures. In the process of its creation, great peace, or, as we may put it, social unity comes to the fore. Those who “edit” or select materials get together at various administrative levels and discuss their choice with attention to correctness, readability and the people’s feelings until all agree (Wang 1979: 67.170; Hendrischke 2017a: 74–76; Hendrischke 1992). The materials that they have chosen will, in the end, please everyone: Everywhere between heaven and earth there is more happiness than I am capable of recording.

凡天地之間, 若此喜者衆多, 不可勝記 (Wang 1979: 152.421).

The successful creation of such a document is thereby identified with the arrival of great peace. This project may have a utopian touch but the authors awe for the written word resembles the widespread fixation on texts as the almost exclusive medium for teaching, learning and propagating knowledge and ideas that scholars put forth in Han dynasty times (Lewis 1999: 338).45 The authors provide strong proof for this fixation when they suggest unifying and shrinking all available materials into a textbook that will make everyone move in the same direction. They see the unification of writings as central to social and political planning since they expect it to provide a smooth path to social reform. For them unification is a radical, totalitarian process that begins with all possible plans that anyone has ever had in sight and ends

44  Children’s songs as a source of truth are mentioned. Wang 1979: 71.174. Throughout the Taipingjing, worthy men are described as being in charge of administrative matters while wise men look after the interchange between Yin and Yang and other cosmic matters. 45  See also Wang Chong’s 王充 (27–100 CE) Lunheng 論衡, chapter 35 “liangzhi 量知.”

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with arriving at one single vision that all are expected to share. Here the tension between oneness and the many it consists of is striking.

7  The Position of the “One Man” The proposal that reliable texts are produced by a multitude of contributors leads necessarily to the suggestion that whatever is produced by an isolated individual is doubtful. Since the one that the authors praise gains its authority from fully representing the many, they suggest that people with different specialties exchange views in carefully arranged meetings. This will allow them to jointly explore an issue and thereby get close to its root: Now we would ignore the intention of heaven’s Dao, should we see worth in the words of one man. Although he may well be familiar with one aspect, his insight cannot be complete. He is unable to reach into all six directions and penetrate all seven inner and outer places. Since no one as yet has fathomed the vital essence of the myriad things, each person expresses a different opinion … If we want to align things: each thing has its own root. If this were to be fully explored, Yin and Yang would no longer be changeable. This is how it should all be. When things are left unexplored, we speak of “lonely sayings” and “isolated words” that do not match what the scriptures intend. To follow the words of one man is what we call a partial way of speaking. It is the disposition of heaven and earth that nobody except the wise man can on his own express comprehensively what heaven intends.

今所以失天道意者, 夫賢者一人之言, 知適達一面, 明不盡覩, 不能用流六方, 洽究 達內外七處, 未能源萬物之精, 故各異說 ⋯⋯ 凡事欲正之者, 各自有本。可窮, 陰 陽不復易, 皆當如此矣。不者, 名為孤說獨言, 不得經意。遂從一人之言, 名為偏 言。天地之性, 非聖人不能獨談通天意也 (Wang 1979: 72.175).46

Such a wise man who commands exceptional cosmological knowledge is an ideal figure. Real people and their leaders are not like him. Therefore, the authors propose to set up meetings between people that result in plans whose enactment benefits all because the multiplicity of voices counteracts individual interest and bias. The trustworthiness of a statement or proposal is higher the more people have authored it. A wide social and intellectual range is of particular importance for documents that intend to cut through administrative stratification and inform the ruler’s decision making: Since the people of late antiquity for a long time neglected heaven’s feelings, heaven and earth were always indignant. However, the ruler did not arrive at the truth since he was investigating things by means of isolated words and orphaned sayings. It is quite clear that he did not get what he wanted … Now, since the height of middle antiquity there has been trust in orphaned sayings and isolated words … To put things in writing was originally

 However, when discussing criteria for the selection of officials the authors know of distinguished individuals whose participation is crucial to the success of a project. Such an exceptional individual is termed qiren 其人 “such a man” and the ruler is advised to find and employ him. Wang 1979: 77.184. The expression “Yin and Yang are no longer changeable” is another way of saying that people know the difference between black and white.

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B. Hendrischke meant to facilitate a joint discussion on what is right and what wrong. Instead, it [nowadays] allows one person to make statements that are not made public. But not even a wise man will on his own know all about the Dao of heaven and earth. Therefore, wise and worthy men of earlier and later ages differed in what they wrote and it may be said that each excelled in one field but was unable to remove all disasters. For this reason, I instruct you [Perfected] to collect writings. What could be the use if instead we were to trust in what one person says?

下古之人所以久失天心, 使天地常悒悒者, 君乃用單言孤亂, 核事其不實, 甚失其 意明矣 ⋯⋯ 今大中古以來, 信孤辭單言 ⋯⋯ 文書本使人共議其是與非, 反使一人 陰為辭。夫聖人尚不而獨畢知天地之道, 故聖賢前後生所作各異, 天上言其各長 於一分, 不能具除災, 故教吾都合集校之。今反信一人之言, 寧可用不 (Wang 1979: 152.420; Hendrischke 2017a: 142–143).47

This demand for openness is closely connected with one of the text’s most popular themes. The authors repeatedly insist that communication in a vertical direction between the ruler and the people must never be interrupted and devise detailed plans in order to encourage commoners to submit memorials.48 They argue that only a ruler or leader who is aware of the people’s feelings has access to heaven’s intentions. This principle defeats the “one man’s”—another word for ruler—potentially absolute position. If he aims for unity the ruler must replicate oneness in its full sense by arriving at decisions on the basis of information that represents the knowledge and the views of the many. Although such suggestions for openness are situated in a long tradition of attention to and fear of the people, the Taipingjing’s concrete and almost aggressive demands for intellectual integration are new and, one may suggest, based on different social realities.49 They suggest a definition of oneness that is arguably linked to an awareness of the increasing social and cultural multiplicity and tension of the outgoing Han dynasty.

8  Conclusion We may conclude that for authors of the Taipingjing the concept of oneness points to the unitedness and completeness of diverse and multiple entities and also to unification as the path towards both. Since they see oneness as the essential condition for an orderly relationship of the many and for establishing personal identity, they use “retaining oneness” as the tag to propagate their teachings and argue that

 Further down this proposition is put in simple terms: “To believe exclusively what one man has said and act accordingly is to risk destruction. It brings great loss and great damage to the world. For this reason, my writings do not dare contain isolated words and orphaned sayings 獨信一人言 而行之, 則危亡矣, 是天下之大失大傷也。故吾書不敢容單言孤辭也.” Wang 1979: 152.421. In a similar mode, the authors of the Taipingjing argue that memorials sent to the rulers are only trustworthy when submitted by a group of people. Wang 1979: 127.326–327. 48  See Wang 1979: 127.312–313; Hendrischke 2006: 112 and 214–216. 49  The concept of “people as root” (min ben 民本) was geared to the Warring States’ increasing demand for soldiers and agricultural labor. Pines 2012: 136–139. 47

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people’s respect for oneness brings them close to living in great peace. In such a society people maintain their personal equilibrium through techniques of psycho-­ physiological concentration and, therefore, find it easy to stay together in one community, where the aim of unity overcomes obstructive conduct, be that the acts of insubordination of inferiors or the violent aggressiveness of someone in power. This community is to be actively promoted and maintained by policies of unification directed towards integration as well as towards the uniformity and totality that is shown by heaven, which has the quality of being one, although it is also just one item of a triad and may command but cannot ensure the encompassing process of unification that human beings are expected to undertake. For oneness to guarantee the power of those who ground their actions on it, be that individuals, groups or larger communities, they must stick to it in its full meaning and accept that it contains traces of the tension between multitude and individual. The relationship between the one and those who make it up is in a plain sense dialectical, in that the existence of the one is based on nothing but the relationship between those who make it up. When applied to social reality, all must be happy doing so or the project comes to naught. The novelty of the authors’ designs is interwoven with the originality of their means of argumentation. They pay close attention to the human psycho-­physical make-up. An individual retains oneness through ways of feeling, of thinking, and of enjoying both. Although this self-awareness has moral consequences, its starting point lies elsewhere on grounds that are physical, with a touch of that awe for something metaphysical which the observation of natural processes can easily instill. A similarly drastic rethinking is in place concerning society. For the authors, the people consist of conscientious actors whose participation in social, economic and political matters is the condition for a unified and harmonious community.

Bibliography Asano, Yūichi 淺野裕一. 1982. “The Ultimate Being as Described in the Taipingjing 太平經に 於ける究極者.” Tōhō Shūkyō 東方宗教, 60: 1–22. Bokenkamp, Stephen. 1993. “Traces of Early Celestial Master Physiological Practice in the Xiang’er Commentary.” Daoist Resources, 4.2: 37–51. Bokenkamp, Stephen. 1997. Early Daoist Scriptures. Berkeley: University of California Press. Brown, Lesley, ed. 1993. The New Shorter Oxford Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cao, Feng. 2017. Daoism in Early China. Huang-Lao Thought in Light of Excavated Texts. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Chan, Shirley. 2015. “Oneness: Reading the ‘All Things Are Flowing in Form’ (Fanwu Liuxing凡物流形, with a translation).” International Communication of Chinese Culture, 2.3: 285–299. de Crespigny, Rafe. 1976. Portents of Protest in the Later Han Dynasty. The Memorials of Xiang Kai to Emperor Huan. Canberra: Faculty of Asian Studies and Australian National University Press. de Crespigny, Rafe. 2007. A Biographical Dictionary of Later Han to the Three Kingdoms (23– 220). Leiden: Brill.

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Ding, Yizhuang 丁眙莊 and Liu Dongmei 劉冬梅. 1986. “A Brief Explanation of the Term ‘Retaining Oneness’ in the Taipingjing 太平經中守一淺释.” Zongjiao Xue Yanjiu 宗教學 研究, 2: 67–73. Ebrey, Patricia. 1986. “The Economic and Social History of Later Han.” In Denis Twitchett and Michael Loewe, eds., The Cambridge History of China: The Qin and Han Empires, volume 1, 608–648. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ebrey, Patricia. 1996. The Cambridge Illustrated History of China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Erkes, Eduard. 1950. Heshang Gong’s Commentary on Laozi. Ascona: Artibus Asiae. Eskildsen, Stephen. 2015. Daoism, Meditation, and the Wonders of Serenity: From the Latter Han Dynasty (25–220) to the Tang Dynasty (618–907). Albany: State University of New York Press. Espesset, Grégoire. 2002a. “Cosmologie et Trifonctionnalité dans L’idéologie du Livre de la Grande Paix (Taiping jing 太平經).” Ph.D. Dissertation, Université Paris 7/Denis Diderot. Espesset, Grégoire. 2002b. “Criminalized Abnormality, Moral Etiology and Redemptive Suffering in the Secondary Strata of the Taiping jing.” Asia Major, 15.2: 1–50. Espesset, Grégoire. 2004. “À vau-l’eau, à Rebours ou L’ambivalence de la Logique Triadique dans L’idéologie du Taiping jing 太平經.” Cahiers d’Extrême Asie, 14: 61–95. Espesset, Grégoire. 2007. “Le manuscript Stein 4226 Taiping bu juan di er dans L’histoire du Taoïsm Medieval.” In Jean-Pierre Drège and Olivier Venture, eds., Etudes de Dunhuang et Turfan, 189–256. Droz: École Pratique des Hautes Études. Espesset, Grégoire. 2009. “Les Directives Secrètes du Saint Seigneur du Livre de la Grande paix et la Préservation de L’unité.” T’oung Pao, 95: 1–50. Espesset, Grégoire. 2013. “The Date, Authorship, and Literary Structure of the Great Peace Scripture Digest.” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 133.2: 321–351. Greene, Eric. 2014. “Healing Breaths and Rotting Bones: On the Relationship between Buddhist and Chinese Meditation Practices during the Eastern Han and Three Kingdoms Period.” Journal of Chinese Religions, 42: 145–184. Hachiya, Kunio 蜂屋邦夫. 1983. “Sayings and Documents in the Taipingjing: Thoughts on ‘Bringing Together,’ ‘Collecting,’ and ‘Passing On’ 太平經における言辞文書: 共, 集, 通 の思想”. Tōyō Bunka Kenkyūjo Kiyō 東洋文化研究所紀要, 92: 35–81. Hanyu Da Cidian 漢語大辭典. 1994. Shanghai: Hanyu Da Cidian Chubanshe. Hendrischke, Barbara. 1991. “The Concept of Inherited Evil in the Taiping jing.” East Asian History, 2: 1–30. Hendrischke, Barbara. 1992. “The Taoist Utopia of Great Peace.” Oriens Extremus, 35: 61–91. Hendrischke, Barbara. 1999. “The Concepts of Wealth and Poverty in the Taiping jing 太平經 中財富與貧困的概念.” In Chen Guying 陳鼓應, ed., Research on Daoist Culture 道家文 華研究, volume 16, 107–122. Hong Kong: Sanlian. Hendrischke, Barbara. 2006. The Scripture on Great Peace. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006. Hendrischke, Barbara. 2012. “Religious Ethics in the Taiping jing: The Seeking of Life.” Daoism: Religion, History and Society, 4: 53–94. Hendrischke, Barbara. 2017a. Daoist Perspectives on Knowing the Future. Selections from the Scripture on Great Peace (Taiping jing). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Hendrischke, Barbara. 2017b. “Dialogue Forms in the Taiping jing (Scripture on Great Peace).” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 137: 719–736. Hou Hanshu 後漢書. 1964. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Hsiao, Kung-Chuan. 1979. A History of Chinese Political Thought. F.W. Mote, trans. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Jiao, Xun 焦循. 1987. Correct Meaning of the Mencius 孟子正義. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Kohn, Livia. 1989. “Guarding the One: Concentrative Meditation in Taoism.” In Livia Kohn, ed., Taoist Meditation and Longevity Techniques, 125–158. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

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Kohn, Livia. 1993. The Taoist Experience. An Anthology. Albany: State University of New York Press. Lai, Chi-Tim 黎志添. 2000. “The Relationship between Human Beings and Nature from the Perspective of the Idea of Central Harmony in the Taipingjing: The Illnesses of Heaven and Earth and Human Responsibility 從太平經的中和思想看人與自然的關係: 天地疾病與 人的責任.” In Zheng Zhiming 鄭志明, ed., The Spirit of Daoist Culture 道家文化的精華, 49–75. Dalian: Nanhua Daxue Zongjiao Wenhua Yanjiu Zhongxin. Lau, D.C. 1970. Mencius. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Lau, D.C. 1989. Tao Te Ching. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Lau, D.C. 1992. A Concordance to the Kongzi Jiayu 孔子家語逐字索引. Hong Kong: Commercial Press. Lau, D.C. and Roger Ames. 1998. Yuan Dao: Tracing Dao to its Source. New York: Ballentine. Lewis, Mark Edward. 1999. Writing and Authority in Early China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Li, Ling. 1995–1996. “An Archaeological Study of Taiyi 太一 (Grand One) Worship.” Early Medieval China, 2: 1–37. Li, Xiangfeng 黎翔鳯. 2009. Annotative Commentary on the Guanzi 管子校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Li, Zhendong 李振东. 2016. “A Comparative Study on the Polysyllabic Vocabulary between Taipingjing 太平經 and the Buddhism Scriptures in the Eastern Han 太平經與東漢佛典复 音詞比較研究.” Ph.D. Dissertation. Jilin University. Long, Hui 龍晦. 2000. Complete Explanation of the Taipingjing 太平經全譯. Guiyang: Guizhou Renmin Chubanshe. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Luo, Chi 蘿熾. 1996. Explanatory Commentary on the Taipingjing 太平經注譯. Chongqing: Xinan Shifan Daxue Chubanshe. Major, John et al. trans. and eds. 2010. The Huainanzi. A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China. New York: Columbia University Press. Mugitani, Kunio 麦谷邦夫. 1985. Concordance to the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi 老子 想爾注索引. Kyoto: Hōyū Shoten. Nylan, Michael. 2008. “The Rhetoric of ‘Empire’ in the Classical Era in China.” In Fritz-Heiner Mutschler and Achim Mittag, eds., Conceiving the Empire: China and Rome Compared, 39–64. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nylan, Michael. 2009. “Classics without Canonization: Learning and Authority in Qin and Han.” In John Lagerwey and Mark Kalinowski, eds., Early Chinese Religion, Part One: Shang through Han (1250 BC–220 AD), 721–776. Leiden: Brill. Perkins, Franklin. 2018. “What is a Thing (wu 物)? The Problem of Individuation in Early Chinese Metaphysics.” In Chenyang Li and Franklin Perkins, eds., Chinese Metaphysics and its Problems, 54–68. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pines, Yuri. 2012. The Everlasting Empire: The Political Culture of Ancient China and Its Imperial Legacy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Puett, Michael. 2004. “Forming Spirits for the Way: The Cosmology of the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi.” Journal of Chinese Religions, 32: 1–27. Robinet, Isabelle. 1995. “Un, Deux, Trois: Les Différentes Modalités de l’un et sa Dynamique.” Cahiers d’Extrême Asie, volume 8, Mémorial Anna Seidel: Religions Traditionnelles d’Asie Orientale, Tome 1: 175–220. Roth, Harold. 1999. Original Tao. Inward Training (Nei-Yeh) and the Foundations of Taoist Mysticism. New York: Columbia University Press. Schipper, Kristopher and Franciscus Verellen. 2004. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Solomon, Bernard. 1954. “‘One is No Number’ in China and the West.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 17: 253–260.

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Wang, Ka 王卡. 1993. Heshang Gong’s Annotations to Laozi’s Daodejing 老子道德經河上公 章句. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ming 王明. 1979. A Compilation of the Taipingjing 太平經合校. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ping 王平. 1992. A Study of the Taipingjing 太平經研究. Taibei: Wenjin Chubanshe. Wang, Robin. 2012. Yin-Yang: The Way of Heaven and Earth in Chinese Thought and Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wang, Xianqian 王先謙. 1988. Collected Explanations on Xunzi 荀子集解. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Xu, Mingsheng 徐明生. 2014a. “An Examination of the Sources for the Taipingjing’s Retaining Oneness 太平經守一法探源.” Zhejiang Xuekan, 3: 87–96. Xu, Mingsheng. 2014b. “The Dispute over Whether the Taipingjing’s ‘Retaining Oneness’ is Buddhist 太平經的守一是竊窃取譂法之争辨識.” Hefei Shifan Xueyan Xuebao, 32.4: 27–33. Yang, Jilin 杨寄林. 2013. Taipingjing 太平經釋讀. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yates, Robin. 1997. Five Lost Classics: Dao, Huanglao, and Yin-Yang in Han China. New York: Ballentine Books. Yates, Robin. 2010. “Soldiers, Scribes and Women: Literacy among the Lower Orders in Early China.” In Lie Feng and D.  Prager Branner, eds., Writing and Literacy in Early China, 339–369. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Yu, Liming 俞理明. 2001. Correct Reading of the Taipingjing 太平經正讀. Chengdu: Bashu Shushe. Zahn, Manfred. 1973. “Einheit.” In Hermann Krings et  al. eds., Handbuch Philosophischer Grundbegriffe, 320–337. München: Kösel. Zhang, Dainian. 2002. Key Concepts in Chinese Philosophy. Edmund Ryden, trans. New Haven and Beijing: Yale University Press and Foreign Languages Press. Zhang, Guangbao 張廣保. 1999. “The Taipingjing and the Establishment of Neidan 太平經内 丹道的成立.” Daojia Wenhua Yanjiu, 16: 123–149. Zurcher, Erik. 1996. “Vernacular Elements in Early Buddhist Texts: An Attempt to Define the Optimal Source Materials.” Sino-Platonic Papers, 71: 1–31. Barbara Hendrischke is Honorary Member of the China Studies Centre of the University of Sydney. She has taught at the University of Melbourne and at other Universities in Sydney. Her work is on the intellectual history of early China and the history of Daoist thought. She has published monographs on the Wenzi and the Taipingjing.

Chapter 5

Yin and Yang in the Taipingjing Barbara Hendrischke

1  Introduction The entity of Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 was a topic in Han dynasty discourse. When appraising Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (ca. 179-104 CE), the History of the Han Dynasty (Hanshu 漢書) proposes that “in regard to government he attributed the various disasters and irregularities that are mentioned in the Chunqiu to a mistaken interaction between Yin and Yang 仲舒治國, 以春秋災異之變推陰陽所以錯行” (Hanshu 1962: 56.2624). This agrees with a proposition raised in the Chunqiu Fanlu 春秋繁露 (i.e., “Yin and Yang of heaven and earth”) that by understanding Yin and Yang, heaven’s will is understood: “Heaven’s intention is hard to see and its Dao is hard to put into order. Let us, therefore, understand Yin and Yang, the rising and setting of [the celestial bodies] and [their] fullness and emptiness and we will thereby observe what heaven wants 天意難見也, 其道難理。是故明陽陰、入出、實虛 之處, 所以觀天之志” (Su 1992: 81.467). Put simply, the entity of Yin and Yang is a generic term for diversity, difference, otherness, contradiction and other ways to point to the oppositions that people are faced with. On this basis the entity became central for constructing the relationship between “human beings and heaven” that thinkers dwelt on when they explained how human society fitted into its not humanmade environment and how their era was situated in the course of history.1 The I wish to thank the Editor for supporting my contributions to this Companion and to Dr. Sue Wiles for making them readable.  This chapter owes a lot to Robin Wang’s account of “Yin-Yang” (Wang 2012).

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B. Hendrischke (*) China Studies Centre, University of Sydney, Mosman, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_5

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Scripture on Great Peace (Taipingjing 太平經) belongs to this discourse.2 It has hardly a section in it that does not refer to aspects of Yin and Yang.3 For its authors, people suffer unusually severe consequences once they destroy peace by disregarding or actively disturbing the natural equilibrium between the two impacts. The character for peace (ping 平) points originally to a level piece of ground (Schuessler 2007: 415). Yin and Yang, when in harmony, have been called “at peace.”4 Therefore, by subsuming whatever opposing forces one deals with to the clarifying but at the same time softening structure of Yin and Yang, one evens things out. Since Yin and Yang, opposed as they are, coexist on natural and cosmic grounds, other contrasting partners may, when identified as Yin and Yang, be expected to do the same.5 This chapter hopes to explain why and how the authors of the Taipingjing define human awareness of Yin and Yang as key to the arrival of the blessed era of great peace. It will appear that their interpretation of Yin and Yang fits into the materials that were in use in Han dynasty times. They differ from other thinkers, not so much

2  For the text of the Taipingjing see my chapter on “oneness” in this Companion. The author of the text’s Tang dynasty digest entitled Taipingjing Chao (hereafter Chao 鈔) by which sections not contained in the transmitted text have become accessible, was particularly eager to quote passages on Yin and Yang. This chapter, therefore, relies rather strongly on the digest. While footnotes will point this out, it is bound to have a particular impact on this chapter’s results since interpretations that are based on isolated passages are necessarily less secure than those based on a full chapter. Needless to say, this is a shortcoming not only of this chapter but of Taipingjing studies in general, where the whole of Wang Ming’s useful edition that contains what is left of the Taipingjing’s Daozang edition (the only one we have), the Chao and other related materials is often uncritically seen as representing one identical text. 3  Among the 366 section titles that have been preserved in full and probably originate with the sixth century editors, the following pertain to Yin and Yang: section 11 “The method to harmonize and unite Yin and Yang 和合陰陽法;” section 79 “Designing a way of conduct for pregnancy and Yin and Yang that is as well aligned as if arrived at by compasses or L-squares 胞胎陰陽規矩正行圖 決;” section 91 “The method of reproduction according to Yin and Yang 陰陽施法; section 138 “Advice on the honored position of Yang and the low position of Yin 陽尊陰卑決;” section 146 “Advice on Yang 陽決,” which deals with matters of hierarchy; section 234 “Advice on the complete alignment of Yang and the melting of weapons 陽盛正兵刃消決;” and section 238 “Advice on how to stay close to life and match a single man and a single woman so that they can mix Yin and Yang 近命符孤男孤女能調陰陽決.” Only section 138 is in the transmitted text, cf. below at note 42; for the title of section 91, see Espesset 2002: 198. The Chao’s quotations on Yin and Yang do not seem to rely on the chapters whose title points to the two terms. The Chao’s main source are here the first two parts of the Taipingjing (sections 1–40) that mainly deal with topics of fundamental relevance. 4  See Chunqiu Fanlu “Attending to heaven’s Dao”: “The term harmony means ‘to be well-aligned’ for celestial matters and ‘to be at peace’ for Yin and Yang 和者, 天之正也, 陰陽之平也.” Su 1992: 77.446. Wang argues that for Dong Zhongshu, or rather for the Chunqiu Fanlu, the natural relationship between Yin and Yang is that of he 合 “unity” and not that of he 和 “harmony.” See Wang 2005. 5  From a formal perspective, the polarity of Yin and Yang appears to be a term for contradiction in its full sense. What is listed as Yin is necessarily not Yang. However, one would have to add “in the sense in which Yin and Yang happen to be put to use in this case.” Both are by far too widely attributed to things and situations to submit them to the label of contradiction from a formal perspective. See Horn 2010.

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in their understanding of what Yin and Yang are, but regarding the socio-­philosophical lessons that they draw from their interchange. We will begin by investigating how the entity of Yin and Yang is represented by two modes that, when applied to people and events, entails related but distinct and contrasting ways of analysis. One has binary structuring as its starting point which, although initiated by observing processes, upholds fixed and stable taxonomic identities. The other takes its cue directly from the reciprocal dynamism that can be observed in the development of natural processes.6 Both modes are applied in prognostication, as will be shown in the second part of this chapter, and, as documented in its third part, both are in explanatory and advisory fashion matched to social conditions. When both modes would result in conflicting advice the authors side with the second, intensely process-­oriented mode and its cosmic and ontic veracity.7 This comes to the fore in the last part of this chapter that pays attention to the contradictory roles that are assigned to Yin.

2  Two Modes of Yin and Yang When applied for taxonomic purposes, Yin and Yang point to a binary structuring by which multiplicity is reduced to duality in the mode of oracle bone divination, where the questions to be raised were not who has done it but whether “A” did it or not. This mode’s validity is closely entangled with correlative assumptions according to which structuring by means of Yin and Yang can be found at diverse layers in everything we may think or talk about.8 Heaven has its Yin and Yang, as has each person, object and affair. This simplifies understanding: people are as clearly either sovereign or subject, if identified as Yang or Yin 太陽, 君也 ⋯⋯ 太陰, 民臣也, as they are male or female (Wang 1979: 127.313).9 As A.C. Graham puts it: “The effect of imposing a scheme of Yin-Yang type is to sharpen contrasts and blur connections” (Graham 1989: 335). This explains that, when preparing an assembly, the organizers properly assign seats in the southeast to people whom they deem diligent while placing those for whom this is not the case in the southwest (Wang 1979: 43.40; Hendrischke 2006: 107). Differences are thus designated in a formulaic manner that precludes analytic attention to the object in question (Graham 1986). This mode of Yin and Yang paves the way to accepting moral and practical guidance from tables that list items in full dependence on the particular aim an author wants to achieve by putting them forth. There is, for instance, the correlation between heaven, male, ruler, father, leader (zhang 長) and teacher and, by being placed in the east and south, also of benevolence and a yielding disposition, which is all identified

6  These two modes reflect Lisa Raphals’ distinction between a hierarchical and a complementary polarity of Yin and Yang. See Raphals 1998: 143–144 and 167–168. 7  For an example of a process reading of the Daodejing, see Alan Fox’s chapter in this Companion. 8  Sivin hints at the stages in which these assumptions were established. See Sivin 2002. 9  Wang’s edition is quoted according to section and page number. See also Wang 1979: Chao, 220.

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with Yang; on the other hand, to be identified with Yin, that of earth, female, official, son, people and mother and, by being in the west and north, of war preparation, wine addiction and a government that relies on female elements (Wang 1979: 105.271). The aim of this long list is to discourage what is called a Yin-type ­government by the male relatives of influential empresses. Another list identifies Yang with what is above and to the left, is fond of bringing to life, implements Dao and does good, and is situated in a person’s head, while Yin belongs to what is below and to the right, is fond of bringing to death, implements punishments, does evil and is situated in someone’s foot (Wang 1979: Chao, 12).10 This list is geared to the proposition that each person is assigned upon birth a “law” (fa 法) together with a body (shen 身) and allows the conclusion that a lord, being of high rank, is oriented towards virtue while a lowly person behaves well out of fear of punishment. An intriguing list concludes that human beings, in general, live by the model of Yin and Yang (Wang 1979: Chao, 731).11 It places under the heading of Yang what is well-­ aligned, in existence (chang zai 常在), increasing (chang xi 常息) and life-giving while what is perverse, not in existence (chang wu 常無), decreasing (chang xiao 常 消) and causing death is placed under the heading of Yin. Another list is introduced in consequence to the proposition that intercourse between the male and the female is a cosmic need. Here Yang is identified with primordial qi 氣, bringing to life, heaven, sun, spring and summer, five of the heavenly stems and six of the earthly branches, the number nine, man, the male and lord, while Yin is seen as the transformation of what is as it is, nourishing, earth, moon, autumn and winter, five branches and six stems, woman, the female and the official (Wang 1979: Chao, 220). This list puts Yin and Yang at the forefront of a dramatic interpretation of cosmic alignments that we will return to. Binary structuring relies on freezing aspects of an ongoing change. In the lists that were just quoted, Yin and Yang and their associates are designated and made rhetoric or analytic use of by a speaker, who, if questioned, could with some reason argue that such binary positioning gains validity from being in response to cosmic processes. These processes result from the changing impacts of Yin and of Yang which are seen to consist of qi, as does all else that “is of a nature to change.”12 Their dynamic makes one impact continually affect and replace the other:

 Due to topics and diction, quotations like this from the first two parts of Taipingjing that was originally arranged in ten parts are of particular importance. 11  The purpose of this list remains doubtful because the Chao’s quotation is too short. However, we may assume that Yin and Yang here point to the contrast between different situations in one’s life. The terms used for “increase” and “decrease” are those customarily referring to the moon’s fluctuation. Wang 1979: Chao, 715. The passage stems from a section on the vital topic of controlling the body spirits. 12  As put by Zhang Dainian (2002: 45). Kong Yida (孔穎達 574–648 CE) remarks on a “Yue ling” passage that “the qi of heaven and earth we call Yin and Yang.” Liji 禮記 1980: 1357a. The Taipingjing is less precise but has the expression “heaven’s qi of Yin and Yang.” See Hendrischke 2017: 55. 10

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What has reached the peak must return to the bottom. What has at the outside reached the end must return inside. Therefore, once Yang is at its utmost there must be a return of Yin. What has reached the bottom must return to the peak. Therefore, once Yin is at its utmost there is a return to Yang, and what has reached the end of a branch must return to the root.

極上者當反下, 極外者當反內; 故陽極當反陰, 極於下者當反上; 故陰極反陽, 極於 末者當反本 (Wang 1979: 58.95–96).13

This process is ongoing: “By taking turns, Yin and Yang in an alternating manner bring each other to life 陰陽相傳相付相生也” (Wang 1979: Chao, 701). Thus, reciprocity is central to the process and appropriately called the “art and method of what is as it is:” Since harmonious qi is seen everywhere, false and evil qi vanishes and well-aligned qi becomes more brilliant. This is the art and method of what is as it is [as it becomes manifest] in Yin and Yang. It is the same as when being active during the day is followed at night by going into hiding, or a small man’s giving up is being followed by a gentleman’s taking over.

和氣俱見, 則邪惡氣消亡, 則正氣更明, 是陰陽自然之術法。猶比若晝日用事, 則 夜藏; 小人逃亡, 則君子行 (Wang 1979: 72.176).

Thereby, the authors suggest that evil is reduced not by direct attack but by increasing goodness, just as the power of Yang reduces that of Yin by means of its growth. In the Taipingjing, this method becomes a guideline for social action. While the impact of either Yin or Yang may at times appear to be isolated and exclusive, both draw their existence from a mutual relationship to which a range of images point, for instance that of the harmonious family 陰陽和合同心為一家, 傳 相生 (Wang 1979: Chao, 648).14 Their reciprocal relationship and thereby unity or oneness has been conceptualized as “central harmony” (zhong he 中和): Yin and Yang must be in the state of central harmony. When qi of central harmony has been found the myriad things will fully come to life, the people will be in accord and the king’s government will be in great peace.

陰陽者, 要在中和。中和氣得, 萬物滋生, 人民和調, 王治太平 (Wang 1979: Chao, 20).

In the shape of “Yin, Yang and central harmony” Yin and Yang are, from a formal perspective, situated next to other triads like heaven, earth, and human beings or ruler, official and people (Kaltenmark 1979: 26; Espesset 2004: 64–67).15 This

 Here the duality of Yin and Yang is interwoven with that of root and branches.  Under these circumstances Yin and Yang are each said to remain in the position that is designed for them, without again changing course. Wang 1979: 72.175; 67.170. 15  In the Taipingjing, when figuring as individual entities, Yin and Yang may be called taiyin and taiyang, with tai 太 used as in taiping to enhance the meaning that is attributed to the simple character, for instance: “Primordial qi has the three names Great Yin, Great Yang, and Central Harmony. What is form and body has the three names heaven, earth, and human beings 元氣有三名, 太陽、 太陰、中和。形體有三名, 天、地、人.” Wang 1979: Chao, 19. The list continues with attribution of the triad of the sun, moon, and stars to heaven, the triad of mountains, valleys, and plains to earth, the triad of father, mother, and son to human beings, and that of ruler, officials, and people to government. However, tai can also be added to Yin or Yang to point to directions, to the sun (taiyang), or to the netherworld (taiyin). 13 14

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opens up wide possibilities for correlative speculations and adds to the model’s usefulness.16 As Lai Chi-Tim points out, “central harmony qi is described as an essential link that leads to the supreme vision of mutual communication between heaven, earth and human beings” (Lai 2001: 103).17 Lack of harmony between the two is in multi-directional ways tied to adverse conditions that range from eclipses of the sun and moon to weather conditions or a situation of intellectual confusion (Wang 1979: section 133 passim; Chao, 23; 72.176).18 On the other hand, all social and moral improvement that human beings may achieve is said to have a positive impact on the harmony, health and happiness of Yin and Yang.19 The basis for a harmonious relationship between the two impacts is simple. It lies in giving way to and thereby promoting the other’s progress without any objection: What Yin and Yang should do is bring each other to life and make each other reach full growth. Why do they instead maltreat and harm each other?

又陰陽本當轉相生, 轉相成功, 何反相賊害哉 (Wang 1979: 133.366).

Yin and Yang are here put on one identical level with seeming disregard for taxonomic considerations. It is tempting to juxtapose this proposal with a programmatic passage in Dong Zhongshu’s first memorial that depicts a relationship between the two impacts that makes Yin a subaltern assistant.20

 For an interesting comparison with Guo Xiang’s model of agency, see Chris Fraser’s chapter in this Companion. 17  Lai quotes a crucial passage that reads, in my translation: “Heaven’s qi enjoys creating life below heaven and earth’s qi likes nourishing what is above earth. It is the law of qi to be active below heaven and above earth. When Yin and Yang get together, they create harmony. When we include the harmonious intercourse between these two there are three qi that nourish all things. No more damage will occur once these three love and pervade each other 天氣悅喜下生, 地氣順喜上養; 氣之法行於天下地上, 陰陽相得, 交而為和, 與中和氣三合, 共養凡物, 三氣相愛相通, 無復有 害者.” Wang 1979: 65.148. 18  Disasters are said to be upheavals of the Yin and Yang of heaven and earth. Wang 1979: 127.321. 19  The authors adhere to a limited anthropomorphism that extends to heaven and earth as well as to Yin and Yang so that they may call both happy or ill. Wang 1979: 93.399; 72.176; 67.169. However, Yin and Yang are never held capable of willful action. Ji Kang also speaks of such harmony in his Yangsheng lun 養生論. See Chai 2017. 20  “The eminence of heaven’s Dao lies in Yin and Yang. Yang is virtue, Yin punishment. Punishment is in charge of bringing to death, virtue is in charge of bringing to life. For this reason, Yang is always situated in the midst of summer and its business is bringing to life and nourishing. Yin is always situated in the midst of winter and amassed in empty places that are of no use. Thereby we can observe that heaven relies on virtue rather than on punishment. Heaven puts Yang in charge of harvest result by making it step forth and distribute from up above and it lets Yin hide underneath and at times come forth to assist Yang. Without this help, Yang could not on its own produce a harvest” (Hanshu 1962: 56.2502). Other accounts of the relationship between Yang, when called de 德 “virtue” or “accretion,” and Yin, identified as xing 形 “punishment” or “recision,” focus on the continuous mutual replacement between both impacts. Major et al. 2010: 124; Major 1987. So does section 60 of the Taipingjng. Hendrischke 2006: 241–254. 16

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This cooperation is imagined as being unendingly creative.21 Their regular ­movement, with some support from that of the five agents, is thought to shape all development.22 In cosmogonic reasoning the two are, therefore, said to mediate between original oneness and the myriad beings that the world consists of: Primordial qi, muddled and murky, is as it is. When it congeals it brings forth oneness that is called heaven. When [primordial qi] divides up it brings forth earth by giving life to Yin. Earth is called two. By means of heaven up above and earth down below Yin and Yang jointly dispense human beings, who are called three.

元氣怳惚自然, 共凝成一, 名為天也; 分而生陰而成地, 名為二也; 因為上天下地, 陰陽相合施生人, 名為三也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 305).23

Cosmogonic events can be interpreted as placing entities into ontological hierarchies. From this perspective, Yin and Yang act as mediators between primordial heaven and human beings, being under influence from both directions, as will be shown in more detail in this chapter’s next section. When the model of Yin and Yang stands for the exemplary regularity of the course of nature, it may be phrased “Yin and Yang of heaven and earth.” Wise men of the past are said to have looked towards it for instruction about the human condition.24 The foundational scripture that the Taipingjing’s Celestial Master and his students intend to make public is for this reason to be entitled “all-pervading scripture on Yin and Yang of heaven and earth 洞極天地陰陽之經” (Wang 1979: 55.85; Chao, 686; Hendrischke 2006: 203–204). It is expected to convey the will of heaven. From the examples shown so far it has become clear that both modes of Yin and Yang were put to use for deciphering the world and for coping with it. Their power  “The vital spirit of the Yin and Yang of heaven and earth brings forth all the myriad things 天地 陰陽之精, 共生萬物.” Wang 1979: Chao, 727. 22  The authors do not seem to doubt that, by watching different ordering mechanisms, for instance Yin and Yang and the five agents, an observer will arrive at one identical conclusion. See Nylan 2010. It should be added that for them cosmic cooperation contained nothing “mysterious” (xuan 玄). The term hardly occurs in the Taipingjing. 23  The passage does not explicitly mention Yang as being represented by heaven but Yin and Yang are said to have been at work in the creation of heaven and earth and to have remained in place since then. The two can be used in lieu of heaven and earth, for instance in the expression “since the separation between Yin and Yang 陰陽開闢以來.” Wang 1979: 61.125; Chao, 688; 731. The passage continues with a pertinent explanation of the term chengfu 承負 and provides a glimpse into the authors’ interpretation of the Laozi’s demand for personal restraint: “Together the three dispensations give life to all beings and things and bring them up. They are called goods. Goods bring about wishes that bring about a wrong attitude that is followed by ambition, which gives rise to shrewdness that brings about harm. When harm is not stopped there is disorder and decline. When decline is not stopped things cannot again be put into order since deterioration has reached back into the root. For this reason, we speak of inheriting and transmitting [trespasses] 三統共生, 長養凡物, 名為財, 財共生欲, 欲共生邪, 邪共生奸, 奸共生猾, 猾共生害而不止則亂敗, 敗而 不止不可復理, 因窮還反其本, 故名為承負.” 24  “For this reason, the wise men of old independently and thoroughly thought about and watched the ways of Yin and Yang of heaven and earth to set them up as a teacher and as a model. You can’t go wrong when you know this reliable proof 是故古者聖人獨深思慮, 觀天地陰陽所為, 以為師 法。知其大 [信效] 萬不失一.” Wang 1979: 60.111. 21

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was enhanced by the fact that its workings lie within everyone’s experience, since things live through Yin and Yang: Each human being on earth has her or his own what is as it is, primordial qi and Yin and Yang.

地上之人各異, 自有自然元氣陰陽 (Wang 1979: Chao, 693).25

This becomes vividly manifest in the expression “to combine Yin and Yang:” The people under heaven … combine Yin and Yang in order to continue their kind.

天下人 ⋯⋯ 合陰陽, 以傳其類 (Wang 1979: 139.393).

This puts sexual practice under the auspices of Yin and Yang and thereby turns it into a replica of cosmic movements. When a Daoist religious congregation was founded around the middle of the second century CE, joint sexual practice was installed as the ritual that guaranteed a believer’s well-being (Kleeman 2016: 158–174). The authors of the Taipingjing saw in sexual practice mainly the tool for procreating the human species, and thus for establishing the family as the primal social unit and thereby continuing the triad of heaven, earth and human beings. For them, the sexual act may have contained more reciprocity than was customary in traditional bedroom manuals.26 They argued: It lies in the nature of heaven and earth that Yang loves Yin and Yin loves Yang. Therefore, Yang must change into Yin and Yin must change into Yang. For the way of Yin and Yang this is always the case … Now, a person should take his or her own body as a specific physical form: For Yang as if he were the body of a Yin person, and for Yin, as if she were the body of a Yang person.

天地之性, 陽好陰, 陰好陽。故陽當變於陰, 陰當變於陽。凡陰陽之道, 皆如此矣 ⋯⋯ 但便以自身為其形。陽者, 若陰人身也; 陰者, 若陽人身也 (Wang 1979: 159.449).27

The authors’ views on the polarity of Yin and Yang, as they have here been discussed, seem to contain little that would be specific to the Taipingjing. The two modes in which both impacts are seen are oppositional, in the Taipingjing as elsewhere. The binary mode points to a situation of contradictory opposition. The process-­oriented mode points to contrasting situations that are in flux and may

 This is set in a long list of participants that reaches from heaven’s luminaries to human beings and beasts, plants and mountains and finally to spirits. A similar idea is expressed by putting Yin and Yang into the center: “For all affairs under heaven, one is Yin and one Yang. Thereby they are capable of giving birth to and rearing each other 天下凡事, 皆一陰一陽, 乃能相生, 乃能相養.” Wang 1979: Chao, 221. 26  For an explanation of the widespread fascination for techniques of retention that were meant to increase the male partner’s vitality, see Raz 2012: 177–209. 27  This is explained more clearly in the Xiang’er 想爾 commentary to chapter 6 of the Daodejing 道德經. See Mugitani 1985: 2; Bokenkamp 1997: 83; see also Hendrischke 2014. Espesset draws attention to the fact that according to Li Xian’s 李賢 (651–684 CE) commentary on the Hou Hanshu parts of the Taipingjing focused on procreation techniques. Espesset 2002: 198–199; Hou Hanshu 30B.1081-1082. 25

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partake in Yin as well as in Yang. In all cases, the mentioning of Yin and Yang invokes that the objects or terms that happen to be in opposition are imbedded in one identical and orderly unit that comprises all. By reading the Taipingjing one can come to the impression that all imaginable opposites are expressed by terms that in principle point to summer and winter or day and night and for this reason naturally move into each other and that, in consequence, each of two opposing terms is necessarily envisaged as being half of a totality. This view throws a perspective on reality that agrees with the aggressively integrative social philosophy of the Taipingjing.

3  The Role of Yin and Yang in Prognostication The main parts of the Taipingjing deal with the imminent chance for the arrival of a new era of bliss. Should this chance not be put to use the world will be doomed. This proposal is put forth not as prophesy but as the result of an analysis of factors that constitute cosmic order, with the aim of understanding heaven’s intention. For the authors, the essence of prognostication lay in deciphering and acknowledging heaven’s intention. Therefore, to prognosticate accurately was hardly different from wise planning (Hendrischke 2017: 2–3; 38). The authors of the Taipingjing followed their contemporaries in proposing that this could be done by attending to Yin and Yang: A wise man resembles Yin and Yang and Yin and Yang resemble heaven and earth in the way they organize affairs. They bring all the myriad things to agree with each other. A wise man is also expected to bring all the myriad things to agree with each other, perform what heaven intends and act in reliance on Yin and Yang.

聖人者象陰陽, 陰陽者象天地以治事, 合和萬物, 聖人亦當和合萬物, 成天心, 順陰 陽而行 (Wang 1979: Chao, 221–222).

Yin and Yang are crucial because all cosmic and social factors can be seen as organized according to an attachment to either Yin and or Yang: It is heaven’s eternal prognostic, pattern and law to solidly establish the south as ruler. Therefore, the sun is situated in the south as ruler, and so is fire and Elder Yang … Therefore, heaven’s prognostic always makes a ruler’s growth and decay known through the sun.

天常讖格法, 以南方固為君也。故日在南方為君也, 火在南方為君, 太陽在南方 為君 ⋯⋯ 故天讖常以日占君盛衰也 (Wang 1979: 105.262).28

28  It was common to link the sun to information about a ruler; see for instance Yiwei Kunling Tu 易 緯坤靈圖 (Chart of the Numina of the Hexagram Kun According to the Weft of the Yi): “The sun is the ruler’s image. When the government is virtuous without fail and the people are secure as well as in peace the sun shines brightly in all colors 日者君象、徳政無失、百姓安寧、則日華五采.” Yasui and Nakamura 1971–1992: volume 1, part 2, 125. In the Yiwei Tong Guayan 易緯通卦驗 (On the Verification of the Hexagrams According to the Weft of the Yi) an eclipse of the sun is said to pertain to the fate of the ruler. Yasui and Nakamura 1971–1992: volume 1, part 2, 36.

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The Master then explains the order of seasons and directions. He also designs positions for people in a family situation and in the world of politics, for instance: Elder Yin is the people … It is heaven’s law and prognostic that Younger Yang [the ruler’s family] be in awe of Younger Yin. Therefore, an official [Younger Yin] must in turn command the staff of a country’s king or marquis. Elder Yang [the ruler] is in awe of Elder Yin [the people]. Therefore, once the country has Dao and virtue and [the officials] are worthy and enlightened, the people will be submissive.

太陰為民 ⋯⋯ 天之格讖, 少陽者畏少陰。故臣者, 反主錄國家王侯官屬也。太陽 畏太陰, 是故國有道與德, 而君臣賢明, 則民從也 (Wang 1979: 105.264).

By using Yin and Yang as a means of classification, the Master grounds the political power structures that he deals with in more basic realms whose organizational principles are of proven authority. One is cosmic while the other is that of the family. This he achieves without further discussion by referring to modified versions of the two terms. This modification is important since in a somewhat contradictory manner it adds much to the applicability of the entity of Yin and Yang. It tunes the initially contradictory opposition between the two impacts down into one of contrast. The Master’s discourse becomes more technical when moving to the relationship between stems and branches. He organizes both, as is customary, according to the even or uneven number they occupy in the lists of ten and twelve (Wang 1979: 105.266–267; 273–274). As a next step, the students come up with the following question: –– and kun --- [that is, the sixth, seventh and Now south is Yang, but in the Yi it has xun = ---, li -second—consisting of three Yin lines—of the eight diagrams]. The north is Yin, but in the -– [that is the first—consisting of three Yang lines, fourth Yi it has qian ≡, kan -– and gen --and fifth of the eight diagrams].

今南方為陽, 易反得巽離坤, 北方為陰, 易反得乾坎艮 (Wang 1979: 105.272).

The Master likes the question and answers that the Zhouyi 周易 (Classic of Changes) focuses on subtle qi at the point in time of its origin, when it remains hidden, as does the dragon while it is not strong enough for action.29 The Zhouyi is the only text that is quoted in the Taipingjing. The reason for this may be the following observation: The Yi puts qi of Yin and Yang in order: the eight winds [or diagrams] are made into nodes [of 45 days each], are set up together with stems and branches [to signify days] and [thereby] Yin and Yang are joined in one body and intimately connected to heaven and earth. This is an excellent doctrine.

 The Master here quotes the commentary on the first line of the first hexagram of the Zhouyi; for a full translation and annotation of the passage, see Hendrischke 2009: 52–59. The same line is quoted in Wang 1979: 50.65. In general, the authors of the Taipingjing pay much attention to developmental stages. Wang 1979: 153.424; 105.274-275. They propose that these stages have a decisive impact on results and must, therefore, be taken into consideration when voicing expectations or predictions. See Wang 1979: 77.184; Hendrischke 2017: 105.

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易者理陰陽氣, 八風為節, 與六甲同位, 陰陽同體, 與天地連身, 故為神道也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 650).30

The Taipingjing stems from a discourse where prognostication and its methods and techniques were important. However, for the authors of the text this topic is too central to isolate certain methods or put any trust in techniques. They actually pay far less attention to the calendrical and hemerological details of changeovers between Yin and Yang than one would expect. Prognostic apocrypha, for instance, which may in part stem from a social background that was similar to that of the Taipingjing, inform their readers about the exact influence of Yin and of Yang on weather conditions or on astronomic phenomena and how the changing strength of the two impacts structures the course of the year.31 The authors’ neglect for attempts to fine-tune the effects of both impacts agrees with their general lack of interest in, if not contempt for, scholastic methodologies and the vast fundus of knowledge that they require. Since the authors deal with central questions of moral and political philosophy without acknowledging the old philosophical masters or the Classics, it is fitting that they also handle the entity of Yin and Yang with nothing but a brief reference to the Zhouyi. The authors’ skepticism may be founded in the failure of their scholarly contemporaries to solve the dynasty’s political crisis. It may also have its root in the authors’ alternative set of beliefs that they propagate with dramatic urgency. They advise the taking of clues from the general state of things and propose that it is the opposite of what it should be. For this sort of observation and analysis the two modes of Yin and Yang allow easy conclusions, from a taxonomic as well as from a process-oriented perspective, as will become evident in the next section of this chapter.

4  T  he Implications of Human Conduct on the Workings of Yin and Yang The rules of correlation and the universal presence of Yin and Yang are seen to make it possible for human endeavors to gain cosmic impact. This is expressed in the following passage, whose underlying religiosity is grounded in the strong belief in heaven that is propagated throughout the Taipingjing:

 The translation attempts to take long annotations by Yang and Long into consideration. See Yang 2013: 2130–2131. Long 2000: 1323–1324. Such praise for the Zhouyi was traditional. Chapter 33 (tianxia 天下) of the Zhuangzi 莊子 mentions that “the Zhouyi serves as the guide to Yin and Yang 易以道陰陽.” Guo 1989: 33.1067. 31  See, for instance, Yiwei Tong Guayan, and Shangshu Kao Lingyao 尚書考靈曜 (The Documents’ Examination of the Numinous Luminaries). See Yasui and Nakamura 1971–1992: volume 1, part 2, 76–77; volume 2, 37 and 49; Di Giacinto 2013: 38–41. However, Li shows that the Taipingjing and the corpus of prognostic apocrypha set the same rules for correlations between Yin and Yang, five agents, natural phenomena and to some extent human society. Li 1999. 30

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B. Hendrischke When someone has a wish in her heart and gains influence with majestic heaven, Yin and Yang come into motion. That is what is meant when we say that perfect sincerity moves heaven.

心中所欲, 感動皇天, 陰陽為移, 言語至誠感天, 正此也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 719).32

It is, therefore, consequent that the workings of Yin and Yang are seen as closely tied to moral conduct and thus to social reforms. These components form a knot that is not meant to be torn apart. A state of great peace entails ideal human relations and natural conditions while being preceded by and at the same time acting as the source for a perfect relationship between all influences of Yin and of Yang: As for the movements taking place in heaven and on earth: only after Yin and Yang have obtained mutual harmony will there be great peace that will then summon the [spirit] clerks of the four seasons and five agents.

天地之行, 尚須陰陽相得和合, 然後太平, 而致四時五行之吏也 (Wang 1979: Chao, 706).

Importantly, the authors add a chronological or, one could argue, historical dimension, as they do in view of all present-day social and environmental ills. Since they suppose that human beings have for a long time committed trespasses against heaven that amount to an ever-increasing load that each generation inherits and transmits to the next, disturbances in the working of Yin and Yang are observed from a long-term angle: When Yin and Yang betray each other, they fight incessantly while one wins and the other loses … The latter born gradually forgot the intention of heaven and earth. This made Yin and Yang slowly fall away from loving each other so that struggles ensued.

陰陽相奸, 遞諍勝負 ⋯⋯ 後生彌彌共失天地意, 遂使陰陽稍稍不相愛, 故至於戰 鬥 (Wang 1979: 133.365–366).

Thereby the authors connect present-day fights between Yin and Yang to the increasing human neglect for the demands of a natural environment. On the other hand, should Yin and Yang keep to their place “all the world’s diseases that have been inherited and are passed on would be completely healed 今陰陽各得其所, 天下諸 承負之大病, 莫不悉愈者也” (Wang 1979: 54.82). In concrete terms the “latter born” may run an administration by strife and violence that will cause Yin and Yang to overturn each other: Should someone continue to overawe, intimidate, and subdue others … the people under this sort of control will [appear to] know nothing or will, stricken by resentment, not dare to speak up from fear … We must call all this rupture and lack of pervasion. It prevents celestial qi of Yin and Yang from being in accord.

 The translation takes a quotation of the passage in the Discourse on the Works of Daoism (Daodian lun 道典論), reprinted in Wang, into consideration. Wang 1979: 719. The Chao here quotes section 1 of the Taipingjing that according to its title deals with prognostication. In interpreting the passage at hand, Yang speaks of portents sent by Yin and Yang. Yang 1994: 621. While this adds precision and agrees with the topic of section 1, it may also unnecessarily narrow down what the passage at hand intends to say.

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以此邪枉安威駭服人者 ⋯⋯ 其治理, 人不知, 或有大冤結而畏之不敢言者 ⋯⋯ 皆 名為閉絕不通, 使陰陽天氣不和 (Wang 1979: 64.144–145).33

The authors see what they call “rupture” as a significant impediment to the harmonious relationship between Yin and Yang. The lack of communication between ruler and subjects is the most frequently mentioned aspect of such a rupture. It separates the ruler from heaven, whose voice becomes audible in the people’s mood and their observation of natural irregularities. Therefore, rupture deprives the ruler of his authority and tears society apart. Another aspect of it is chastity: A chaste man does not beget while a chaste woman does not become pregnant. That Yin and Yang are not exchanged completely annihilates the world’s population … However, both heaven and earth hate human beings who cause ruptures. They are known as ‘people of great contrariness who disrupt order’ … The cause of the frequent ruptures [in the relationship] between Yin and Yang lies in a lack of harmony between man and woman. These two are at the root of Yin and Yang.

夫貞男乃不施, 貞女乃不化也。陰陽不交, 乃出絕滅無世類也 ⋯⋯ 而反斷絕之, 此乃天地共惡之, 名為絕理大逆之人也 ⋯⋯ 陰陽所以多隔絕者, 本由男女不和。 男女者, 乃陰陽之本也 (Wang 1979: 42.37–38; Hendrischke 2006: 102–103).

Moreover, the rupture that results from interrupted intercourse is highly condemned, as is everyone who remains without progeny (Wang 1979: 208.658–659; Hendrischke 2006: 100–101). Such people should never, the authors argue, be given employment. The warning is added that “one must not honor chaste men and women or qi of great peace will not arrive” (Wang 1979: 42.38). These accusations may be directed against competing religious groups or even against the eunuchs who as a group between 169 and 184 CE dominated the Han court. Certain well-established human activities are seen to prioritize either Yin or Yang and thereby destabilize the balance between them. They must, for this reason, be put to an end. One such activity is to pay more respect to one’s parents after their demise than during their lifetime. This attitude allows Yin to dominate Yang and, therefore, the authors advise that the less attention paid to the dead the better (Wang 1979: section 46 passim; Hendrischke 2006: 126–135). In another context, the authors argue for the protection of Yin. They point out that female infanticide antagonizes Yin and must, therefore, be abolished. As if this argument did not suffice, they add a decidedly Yang-oriented consideration. They propose that infanticide changes the ratio between Yang and Yin which is said to be naturally one to two, since Yang is presented by odd numbers while the numbers of Yin are even. Infanticide would make it impossible for each man to have two wives, as he should. The authors add that arrangements must be made for females to earn an income, as do men. They can then support their parents who will, in consequence, have no reason for not raising

 Wang has no comma between 其治理 and 人不知, which is followed by Long (Long 2000: 290). Yang has a comma before 不知, which is followed by Luo. See Yang 2013: 489; Luo 1996: 239. Yu puts the comma before 人不知 and changes bu zhi 不知 to bu he 不和. Yu 2001: 125. This is not necessary. The people’s supposed ignorance concerning the events around them that should be reported to higher authorities documents the fact that there is a social rupture.

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girls (Wang 1979: sections 41 and 42; Hendrischke 2006: 67–104).34 This argument is unusual. It implies that Yin must be decisively strengthened in order to guarantee reciprocity between the two impacts. The authors also promote Yin by prohibiting earthworks which were a widespread concern (Hendrischke 2006: 271). These examples show that the authors refer to the authority of Yin and Yang to keep relationships reciprocal, to create a balance between services to the living and to the dead, and to encourage sexual intercourse. This situates the workings of Yin and Yang in the center of the Taipingjing’s socio-political program. On the one hand, this role is certainly rhetorical. The mention of Yin and Yang takes whatever the topic may be beyond itself into the project of human integration in cosmic order and thereby activates powerful and self-explanatory images that free speakers from the need for tedious details and lengthy explanations. Propositions that involve Yin and Yang also appear as being precise and simple and for this reason impressive.35 On the other hand, it can be argued that such propositions also stood a chance of convincing on the strength of argumentation. Whatever is identified with the process-­oriented mode of Yin and Yang must follow the principle of reciprocity. It must be expected that someone who accepts the cosmogony-derived omnipresence and resulting normative function of the two impacts of Yin and Yang will in consequence also accept that reciprocity is the guiding principle of any reasonable relationship between mutually opposed members of a group. Roget’s Thesaurus details the use of “reciprocity” as correlation, equalization, compensation, interchange, co-­ operation and concord (Dutch 1962: 1123). The ideal relationship between Yin and Yang falls in part under all these terms. The Taipingjing contains more examples of this model. The distribution of wealth between a sovereign and his people is one example. The demand that teachers must spread their knowledge is another (Wang 1979: section 41; Hendrischke 2006: 67–94; Wang 1979: 154.430; Hendrischke 2017: 149). When one approaches contrasts, contradictions and animosity not directly but from the perspective of Yin and Yang they are necessarily tuned down. The fundamental reciprocity that links the two impacts can play the role of a buffer between two conflicting entities or parties.

 From a formal perspective, this relationship between one and two resembles another supposedly well-adjusted relationship: “Yang is one ruler and two people, the image of the gentleman”, as expressed in the “Appended Statements” of the Mawangdui 馬王堆 version of the Zhouyi. See Shaughnessy 1998: 206, 207. In the received text this is complemented by “Yin is two rulers and one people, the way of a small man.” Zhouyi 1966: 46.4. Wang Bi 王弼 argues that such thoughts are grounded in Yang being represented by a single, and Yin by a double line in the Zhouyi nomenclature. See Lou 1999: 561; Lynn 1994: 80. 35  One could argue that the authors have simply placed new issues into the well-established field of Yin and Yang “in the hope of improving the chances for the good reception of a given argument” as Nylan proposes for a pre-Qin tendency to rely on sets of numbered phenomena. Nylan 2010: 403. However, one would thereby neglect the gravitas that the two impacts often seem to command. 34

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5  The Yin of Yin and Yang The workings of Yin and Yang are by far too loosely defined and widely applied to not contain contradictory elements. The following passage is meant to give a rough idea of such contradictions. Here the two contrasting modes of Yin and Yang that were outlined earlier are applied next to each other, which conveys the impression that an isolated Yang and an isolated Yin are different entities from those that are combined to the polarity of what is termed Yin and Yang. That is not the case, since, even when isolated, both entities carry attributes that derive from their coexistence: To accompany something joyful with joy and something painful with pain is what heaven on high has made law. When qi of great peace arrives heaven will give rein to joy in order to receive it deferentially. It will deem weapons dangerous and cut off punishments. For earth it will be the same. Joy is Yang and is heaven’s guideline. Weapons and punishments are Yin and earth’s anger. When Yin thrives it necessarily hurts the transformation of Yang. Now since qi of great peace has arrived heaven reins together with spirit soldiers and, ­therefore, cuts off punishments, weapons and disputes and lets [spirit soldiers] investigate the myriad generations so that they are no longer in confusion. All is like the sun and the moon and cannot go into long-term hiding. Since primordial qi and what is as it is are joyful, they both give life to heaven and earth. Since heaven and earth are happy Yin and Yang cooperate and wind and rain are as they should be. Since this is so they all together bring the twelve thousand things to life.

樂者順之以樂, 苦者順之以苦, 天上之為法如此矣。乃太平氣至, 故天上從其樂, 以順奉之, 大急兵杖而斷刑罰。地上亦然。樂者, 陽也, 天之經也。兵杖刑罰者, 陰也, 地之怒也。陰興必傷陽化。今太平氣至, 乃天與神兵共治, 故斷刑罰兵杖 爭訟, 令使察察萬世不復妄也。皆如日月, 不可久蔽藏也。元氣自然樂, 則合共 生天地, 悅則陰陽和合, 風雨調。風雨調, 則共生萬二千物 (Wang 1979: Chao, 647–648).36

The appropriate togetherness of the two impacts is that of the harmonious relationship that will appear once great peace has taken hold of things. However, human activities may unduly enlarge one impact, which is here, as often, said to be Yin, and thereby cause a disequilibrium of cosmic proportions. On the other hand, heaven’s special promotion of Yang is seen as fitting without further comment. This passage shows the process-oriented mode of Yin and Yang relations in conflict with positions that are conveyed in the binary mode of the two impacts that come to the fore in the lists that were quoted above. In such lists, the workings of Yin and Yang appear from the perspective of taxonomist habits, whatever they may look like in cosmogonic context. From the fact that both impacts are said to appear in chronological sequence—Yang comes first—and from their male–female association, it is concluded that the two sharply differ in value. Unwelcome aspects are, therefore, conveniently labelled Yin. This includes aspects that are momentarily

 Here the Chao arguably combines two separate passages of the original text. The sentence “for earth it is the same 地上亦然” that belongs to the first passage is in conflict with what is said about earth in the next passage.

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disagreeable as well as what is deemed fundamentally bad.37 There are two enduring consequences to being put under the label of Yin. One is that whatever is Yin remains without fail second-rate, if not hostile, and detrimental to everyone’s well-being. The other is that it will and, in fact, must never come to an end. Yin may be wrong and in need of containment but one cannot and must not expect to get rid of it. Throughout the text, both positions coexist in proximity to one another, which will, in the following, be shown in some detail without the attempt to construct more rigorous lines of argument than the examples provide. The starting point for the negativity that is seen in Yin’s position lies in the role that it is assigned in the regular course of nature, where Yin is associated with bringing something to its end: Heaven’s Dao always has three distinct qi. At the beginning the first likes bringing to life. It is called Yang. The second likes bringing to completion and is called harmony. The third likes killing and is called Yin. Therefore, heaven presides over what we call bringing to life, humans preside over nourishing and bringing to completion and what brings to completion we call deadly. What is brought to death we store. When heaven, earth and human beings, all three of them, cooperate then their affairs rely on each other. Without Yang there is no bringing to life, without harmony no completion and without Yin no bringing to death. Once these three rely on each other to form one family they, between them, bring all the myriad things to completion.

天道常有格三氣。其初一者好生, 名為陽; 二者好成, 名為和; 三者好殺, 名為陰。 故天主名生之也, 人者主養成之, 成者名為殺, 殺而藏之。天地人三共同功, 其事 更相因緣也。無陽不生, 無和不成, 無陰不殺。此三者相須為一家, 共成萬二千 物 (Wang 1979: 212.675–676).

This passage highlights the position of Yin in the course of time. It is situated in autumn and winter, at the end of the harvest circle and thereby the season for punishment and death.38 On this background, Great Yin is a name for the netherworld, whose subterranean officials actively persecute malefactors (Wang 1979: 202.624).39 Yin thus appears to be the opposite of Yang’s life-giving and life-maintaining vigor: A person, while alive, is being assigned qi of Yang. Registers have records for the perfected, the spirit-like, and the transcendent. Having trespassed, someone is removed from there. He is assigned qi of Yin and finds himself immediately in the division of the dead.

生者陽氣所加, 錄籍有真神仙錄, 有過退焉, 陰氣所加, 輒在死部 (Wang 1979: 185.565).

37  The authors accept, for instance, the proposition that a person in whom disposition (xing 性) dominates resembles Yang and is benevolent, while someone in whom emotions (qing 情) are strong resembles Yin and is desirous. See Wang 1979: 153.424; Wang 2012: 134–135. 38  “Therefore, of heaven’s three qi the highest is called joy, the one in the middle harmony, and the lowest punishment. Therefore, joy belongs to Yang, punishment to Yin and harmony to what is between them 故夫天乃有三氣, 上氣稱樂, 中氣稱和, 下氣稱刑。故樂屬於陽, 刑屬於陰, 和屬 於中央.” Wang 1979: Chao, 466; 204.632. 39  This and the following passage, and the following one from section 185, are from the Taipingjing’s wei-group of texts. The authors of the wei group take a keen interest in aspects of otherworldly bureaucracies.

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In this and similar passages Yin is the label for actual situations of, for instance, winter, decay or death. By being called Yin these situations are understood as constituting necessary stages in a larger cycle that also includes aspects of Yang. At other occasions the mentioning of Yin has the same polemicist flavor that prevails in the binary mode of the two impacts: Therefore, Younger Yin, Elder Yin and [the phase of] earth are set to rise up and win over the Yang component. We name this the overturning of heaven and earth. Therefore, it often amounts to rebellion.

故少陰太陰土使得王, 勝其陽者, 名為反天地, 故多致亂也 (Wang 1979: 105.272).

Yin is accused of actively taking advantage of Yang, or, in other words, of disrespect for the reciprocity of due process. The passage may contain the political message that opponents of the Han dynasty are mistaken when they demand authority under the sign of earth and thus of Yin and show no respect for Yang that is represented by the phase of fire which the dynasty had chosen as their symbol. Yellow, the color of the phase of earth, was popular among movements that were keen on toppling the Han (Hendrischke 2017: 67; 148).40 The passage may also join the ongoing critique of Han dynasty politicians and intellectuals against empresses and their male relatives (Loewe 1986: 304–305; Mansvelt Beck 1990: 160–161). Another critical trend comes to the fore in the attempt to keep music, which should be a joyful Yang-orientated activity, as free from the impact of Yin as possible. It is argued that among the nine tones that are necessary to produce music the four even-­ numbered ones that are identified as Yin remain without a name.41 There is also the striking attempt to depict motherhood as being forced on women. In general, fertility is seen to result from a working relationship between both impacts and when

 The Yellow Turban rebellion that broke out in 184 CE is a good example. It was initiated by what was called “Great Peace Movement.” In another passage, Yin is associated with darkness, illness and a ruler’s demise: “Yang amounts to something spirit-like. Therefore, heaven is spirit-like while Yin amounts to something perverse. For this reason, perfidious qi always comes and goes in the dark and does not dare to act in bright daylight. When what is perfidious acts in bright daylight, we say that Yin prevails over the roads [taken by] Yang. When illness occurs during the day, we say that Yin has risen to dominance and made Yang lose its way. For this reason, a ruler’s loss of power may last long 陽者稱神, 故天為神。陰者稱邪, 故奸氣常以陰中往來, 不敢正晝行; 奸而正晝 行, 為名陰乘陽路; 病而晝作, 名為陰盛興, 為陽失其道, 君衰間為是久矣.” Wang 1979: 135.378. Throughout, the Taipingjing is in support of the phase of fire. Hendrischke 2017: 67. 41  When a student raises the question why the five tones do not suffice to create a piece of music the Master answers: “That is because of Yin and Yang. When the two move, tones gain sound … Since Yang has tones there are number one gong, number three zhi, number five yu, number seven shang, and number nine jue while numbers two, four, six and eight are not called tones. Punishment or [in other words] great Yin becomes active without tones so that [music] does little damage to people by means of Yin. That is what is meant by ‘to become active without tone’ 故為陰陽者, 動則有音 聲 ⋯⋯ 陽者有音, 故一宮、三徵、五羽、七商、九角, 而二四六八不名音也。刑者太陰者, 無音而作, 故少以陰害人。無音而作, 此之謂也.” Wang 1979: 204.631. The translation of this passage is tentative. Yu reads the passage differently and exchanges shao 少 for duo 多, thereby arriving at the conclusion that much damage is done to people by Yin. Yu 2001: 470. Jan’s understanding seems to agree with my interpretation. See Jan 1989. 40

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their role is isolated Yang is called initiating and Yin nourishing. The following passage differs: Now a woman pregnant with child: Yin is basically empty but Yang comes to place semen in Yin. [Since] Yin is lowly and in fear of Yang she follows suit and rears it, afraid of doing away with it. Yang is heaven and is the ruler. Yin is earth and is the subject. Therefore, it holds in very high regard what it has been given by Yang, and for this reason rears it but does not dare to do away with it. If you want to know the truth this is the same as when the sovereign has a guest whom he places in a lowly family. The family will rear her, will not dare sending her off and she will grow into a big and tall person. This is how Yin rears. Now there is the common saying that Yang initiates life and Yin brings it to fruition. But all Yin does is to rear Yang’s semen to fruition, obediently.

今女之姙子, 陰本空虛, 但陽往施化實於陰中, 而陰卑賤畏陽, 順而養之, 不敢去 也。陽乃天也, 君也; 陰乃地也, 臣也。故重尊敬陽之施, 因而養之, 而不敢去也。 子欲知其實, 比若君王有客, 託於小家, 小家養之, 不敢去也。客亦遂得肥巨成人, [陰養] 正此也。今俗者言, 陽生陰成, 但陰隨而養成陽實也 (Wang 1979: 138.387–388).42

What is usually depicted as a harmonious process is here interpreted from the perspective of social habits and thereby becomes one of intimidation and coercion. However, the authors’ misogynist outbursts are limited. The main tenor is that, unpleasant as Yin is, one cannot do without it. This is with great decisiveness explained in a section devoted to heaven’s prohibition against setting fire to mountain forests. In doing so, three components that are associated with Yang act on each other: fire, which is the leader of the five agents, a mountain that exceeds the earth’s surface in height, and trees that due to their height lead the world of plants: “Once the three lords or three Yang meet, they will diminish each other 三君三陽, 相逢反 相衰” (Wang 1979: 209.669). Should this happen “the perfidy of Yin would rise 陰 姦日起.” When thus instructed the student responds: “I would like to ask for what reason, with three Yang having found each other, is there disaster and shrinkage? 請 問三陽相得何故凶衰乎” (Wang 1979: 209.670). He is informed that in this case there would be Yang and not Yin, lord and no subject or man and no woman, which would preclude posterity and, therefore, end all. The Master clarifies his point by adding that heaven, sun, what is above and what is outside would thereby remain without earth, moon, what is below and what is inside. The next section continues the topic by reporting of heaven’s encouragement to lay fire against grass in lowlying fields that is bound to bring about a prosperous meeting between Yang and Yin (Wang 1979: 210.670–671).

42

 The translation relies closely on Yu 2001: 315.

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6  Conclusion This chapter has shown that the polarity of Yin and Yang takes up considerable space in the Taipingjing. It is grounded in a cosmogonic position of high rank and by being invariably present in human sexuality. It figures in two contrasting modes. One appears in the dynamics of seasonal and other natural processes. In the other, Yin and Yang with all their associates remain fixed to opposing poles and are on this binary basis ranked in accordance with taxonomic habits. From both perspectives the polarity is depicted as an effective tool to cope with understanding and managing the world’s diversity. Since human beings are supposed to order things in view of the auspices of heaven’s rules, this order must be exhaustive and at the same time assure ongoing mutual contact between things. When subsumed under Yin and Yang, heaven-ordained contrast becomes a natural feature that can be handled without excluding or extinguishing anything. Thus, viewed from the perspective of Yin and Yang, when oppositions reach extremes they necessarily turn around, as if following a built-in mechanism, and thereby keep a pre-existing unity intact. For this reason, prognostication gains reliability from identifying the events that are scrutinized or predicted with the ongoing interchange between Yin and Yang. Should this interchange show irregularities the fault can only lie in human activities. If social policy or the people’s personal conduct disturb the equilibrium of the two impacts, heaven’s support and with it the future of humankind are at risk. Therefore, an adequate administrative and social policy must guarantee the maintenance of a proper unity-enhancing relationship between Yin and Yang. This is prominently documented in regard to the ancestral cult and to female infanticide. It also pertains to the power struggles at the imperial court. “Ruptures” that come to the fore in praising and exercising chastity or in preventing the flow of information from the grass-roots to political decision makers prevent the regular reciprocal interchange between Yin and Yang and must be stopped. Problems in matching Yin and Yang to social practice are evident in the role of Yin that, from a binary perspective, is all one wants to avoid and, from a process-­ oriented mode, an entity as necessary as is that of Yang. In the main, the authors side with the process-oriented mode that has a focus on reciprocity. From this perspective, social gaps are mitigated and the polarities of the human condition are smoothed by an aura of heaven-derived necessity, which suits thinkers whose religious belief in heaven is such that they want what is below heaven to be as uniform and exhaustive as is heaven above.

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Mansvelt Beck, Burchard. 1990. The Treatises of Later Han. Their Author, Sources, Contents and Place in Chinese Historiography. Leiden: Brill. Mugitani, Kunio 麦谷邦夫. 1985. Concordance to the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi 老子想 爾注索引. Kyoto: Hōyū Shoten. Nylan, Michael. 2010. “Yin-Yang, Five Phases, and Qi.” In Michael Nylan and Michael Loewe, eds., China’s Early Empires: A Re-Appraisal, 398–414. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Raphals, Lisa. 1998. Sharing the Light. Representations of Women and Virtue in Early China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Raz, Gil. 2012. The Emergence of Daoism. Creation of Tradition. London: Routledge. Shaughnessy, Edward. 1998. I Ching: The Classic of Changes. New York: Ballantine. Schuessler, Axel. 2007. ABC Etymological Dictionary of Old Chinese. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Sivin, Nathan. 2002. “Evolution of the Chinese Cosmological Synthesis.” In Geoffrey Lloyd and Nathan Sivin, eds., The Way and the Word: Science and Medicine in Early China, 253–271. New Haven: Yale University Press. Su, Yu 蘇輿. 1992. The Meaning of the Chunqiu Fanlu 春秋繁露義證. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ming 王明. 1979. A Compilation of the Taipingjing 太平經合校. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Robin. 2005. “Dong Zhongshu’s Transformation of Yin-Yang Theory and Contesting of Gender Identity.” Philosophy East and West, 55.2: 209–231. Wang, Robin. 2012. Yin-Yang: The Way of Heaven and Earth in Chinese Thought and Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yang Jilin 杨寄林. 1994. An Explanatory Reading of the Taipingjing 太平經釋讀. In Wu Feng 吴 枫 and Song Yifu 宋一夫, eds., Zhonghua Daoxue tongdian 中華道学通典. Haikou: Nanhai chuban gongsi: 267– 656. Yang, Jilin 杨寄林. 2013. Taipingjing 太平經. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yasui, Kōzan 安居香山 and Nakamura Shōhachi 中村璋八, eds. 1971–1992. Revised Collection of the Apocrypha 重修緯書集成. Tokyo: Meitoku Shuppansha. Yu, Liming 俞理明. 2001. Correct Reading of the Taipingjing 太平經正讀. Chengdu: Bashu Shushe. Zhang, Dainian. 2002. Key Concepts in Chinese Philosophy. Edmund Ryden, trans. New Haven and Beijing: Yale University Press and Foreign Languages Press. Zhouyi 周易. 1966. Harvard Yenching Institute Sinological Index Series Supplements. Taibei: Chinese Materials and Research Center. Barbara Hendrischke  is Honorary Member of the China Studies Centre of the University of Sydney. She has taught at the University of Melbourne and at other Universities in Sydney. Her work is on the intellectual history of early China and the history of Daoist thought. She has published monographs on the Wenzi and the Taipingjing.

Chapter 6

Dao and Ziran in Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing Misha Tadd

1  Introduction The original Daodejing 道德經 presents us with a collection of aphoristic fragments that on their own remain ambiguous and opaque. This is because, as Andrew Hui explains, “aphorisms are before, against, and after philosophy” (Hui 2019: 2). That is to say, Daoist philosophy only really begins when the earliest aphoristic records like the Daodejing achieve order in subsequent more architectonic works. When looking at the later stages of Daoist thought, in this volume termed Xuanxue, we must recognize commentary’s key role in reconceptualizing and developing the nascent ideas of the “Classic.” This chapter focuses on the commentary of Heshanggong 河上公 to reveal an important development in Daoist articulations of the concepts Dao 道 and ziran 自然. If we only consider the fragments of the Daodejing, it is nearly impossible to observe a coherent and complete theory describing Dao, ziran, and their relationship. Ziran’s definition is particularly elusive, as the term only appears five times in the text and often in circumstances suggesting quite divergent meanings. As it is the role of the commentator to “save the text” from contradictions (Henderson and Ng 2014: 41), Heshanggong complicates and explains this term, situating it within his system, and in so doing plays a role in affirming ziran as one of the key pillars of Daoist thought. Heshanggong elevates ziran by terming it the “nature of Dao,” and defining Dao as transcendent because it is ziran. This means ziran becomes fundamental to how Dao functions at all three levels of cosmos, individual, and society. In these contexts, ziran is the authoritative and fundamental quality of Dao. It not only operates as an ideal state that generates imperfect replications of itself, but also as one that M. Tadd (*) College of Philosophy, Nankai University, Tianjin, China © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_6

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provides space for proactive efforts due to ziran functioning as both what “is” and what “ought” to be. This is-ought division means people need not remain their inborn selves, but can strive after the ideal of Dao’s ziran. Taken to its logical extreme, realizing this ideal ziran as the state of Dao results in individual immortality. At the level of society, the commentator depicts an imperfect ziran manifested in the natural hierarchical state of creation, with the ruler gaining his authority by embodying and enhancing ziran in the world. Altogether, this interpretation presents a bold conception of Dao as transcendent and authoritative with ziran as the source of these qualities.

2  The Origin and Reception of Heshanggong’s Commentary According to Ding Wei’s 丁巍 (2004) calculations, there are 2185 historical Chinese works concerning the Daodejing. Prominent within this ocean of exegesis, Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing 老子道德經河上公章句 stands as one of the most influential readings of the text.1 However, unlike with the modern popularity of Wang Bi 王弼 (Lin 1977; Rump 1979; Lynn 1999, 2015; Wagner 2000, 2003; Chai 2010), the philosophy of Heshanggong has received less attention, just half of one monograph (Chan 1991) and some preliminary efforts by the author (Tadd 2013, 2018). Thus, before delving into the commentary’s content, the following will summarize its origin and reception in China. The first relevant questions are the hardest: Who was Heshanggong and when was his commentary written? This is particularly challenging due to the uncertainty over the identity of “Heshanggong,” a sobriquet literally meaning “riverside elder” and could euphemistically refer to any old hermit. The key difficulty is that no historical record from the Han dynasty, when he supposedly lived, mentions anyone called Heshanggong, a frustrating fact already noted by Tang dynasty scholars (Hung 1957: 81). In the absence of any real name connected to the commentary, we are faced with wildly divergent theories about its date of composition. Recent scholarship suggests that Heshanggong and his commentary belong either to the Western Han (206  BCE-24  CE), Eastern Han (24–220  CE), or Six Dynasties (220–586 CE), a possible range of almost eight hundred years. However, as Alan Chan (1991) nicely summarizes, there are essentially two main sides to this debate: those who date the work to the Eastern Han, and those who date it to the 1  The English title Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing refers to three possible titles in Chinese: Laozi Daodejing Heshanggong Zhangju 老子道德經河上公章句, Daode Zhenjing Zhu 道德真經註 (Daozang 道藏 682), and Laozi Heshanggong Zhu 老子河上公注. Among the thirtyplus editions that remain of this early work, the most notable are the Zhengtong Daozang 正統道 藏 edition, the Song dynasty edition reproduced in the Sibu Congkan 四部叢刊, and the three major Dunhuang 敦煌 manuscripts (S477, S3926, P2639). There are modern editions by Zheng Chenghai 鄭成海 (1971), Wang Ka 王卡 (1997), D.C. Lau (1996), and Yamashiro Yoshiharu 山 城喜憲 (2006). All Heshanggong quotations will follow Wang 1997 unless stated otherwise. For more on the content of Heshanggong’s Commentary, see Chan (1991) and Tadd (2013).

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medieval period.2 The first group generally accords with Rao Zongyi’s 饒宗頤 (1956) Eastern Han dating, which he established both by using filiality of terminology to situate the Heshanggong commentary prior to that of the Xiang’er 想爾 text, and by constructing a theory about the name Heshanggong. He is joined by Ōfuchi Ninji 大淵忍爾 (1967), Yoshioka Yoshitoyo 酒井忠夫 (1977), Yu Yingshi 余英時 (1983), and Anna Seidel (1992). Wang Ka 王卡 (1997) and Isabelle Robinet (1977) can also be added to this list compiled by Chan. The second group views the work’s content as reflecting post-Han religious Daoist cultivation practices, and consequently posits various later dates. It comprises Shima Kunio 島邦男 (1974), Naitō Motoharu 內藤幹治 (1977), Kusuyama Haruki 楠山春樹 (1979), and Kobayashi Masayoshi 小林正美 (1985). Among these many theories, Rao’s explanation of the identity and origin of the appellation “Heshanggong” is the most plausible. To begin with, he rejects any historical value in the mythological tale about an immortal named Heshanggong offering a commentary to Han Wendi 漢文帝 (r. 180-157 BCE), a story that would date the work to the Western Han. Instead he sees a later conflation of characters that begins with two even earlier figures: Heshang Zhangren 河上丈人 (ca. 3rd C. BCE)—his name similarly means “riverside elder”—and his student Anqisheng 安期生, both of whom Sima Qian 司馬遷 identifies as primary links in the Huang-­ Lao lineage. Rao notes that when the Shengxian Gaoshizhuan 聖賢高士傳 by Ji Kang 嵇康 (223–263 CE) describes Heshanggong—his first mention in history—it also calls him by this name Heshang Zhangren 河上丈人 and mentions him having a student named Anqiu 安丘. Rao Zongyi further connects this student to Anqisheng and two other Anqiu figures: Anqiu Wangzhi 安丘望之 (also called Anqiu Zhangren 安丘丈人), whose meeting with Chengdi 成帝 (r. 32-7 BCE) also appears in the Shengxian Gaoshizhuan, and Anqiu 安邱 whose zhangju 章句 commentary on the Daodejing, the same type as Heshanggong’s, finds mention in the Gaoshizhuan 高士傳 by Huangfu Mi 皇甫謐 (215–282 CE). Looking at all of these similar names and records, Rao Zongyi suggest a complex conflation of characters. He postulates that Heshang Zhangren (3rd C. BCE) becomes confused with Heshanggong, Anqisheng (3rd C.  BCE) with Anqiu Zhangren (1st C. BCE), and Wendi (2nd C. BCE) with Chengdi (1st C. BCE). Thus, two parallel sets of people with similar names become transposed in later history, with Rao concluding that instead of the myth confirming the commentary was written by Heshang Zhangren or his student Anqisheng, it more likely suggests an effort by Anqiu’s community to associate their own commentary with the early Huang-­ Lao masters through the conflation of names. Rao thus situates Heshanggong’s commentary as a work of Anqiu or his students in the Eastern Han.

 The outlier in this debate is Jin Chunfeng 金春風 (2006). He argues for an early Western Han date, relying on the content of the commentary and its similarity to the Huang-Lao 黃老 trend of that time.

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This theory remains speculative, but most contemporary scholars follow Rao in generally positioning the text in the Eastern Han.3 This makes it early for Xuanxue as defined here, but its role in advancing the Daoist tradition into the post-Han period—the reason for the later dating by various Japanese scholars—justifies its inclusion in this Companion. Regardless of uncertainties about the author or origin of Heshanggong’s commentary, its later history and reception rest on solid evidence. Drawing on various records we can firmly identify it as one of the primary, if not the primary, interpretive frameworks of the Daodejing in China through at least the Song dynasty.4 This history of the commentary helps to situate its teachings within China and affirms the value of their study. Let us begin with how the commentary achieved a special standing. As mentioned above, there is a myth that an immortal named Heshanggong met Emperor Wendi, and though this story resolves no historical questions of authorship, it assisted in solidifying this “immortal’s” commentary as authoritative within organized forms of Daoism. It is these traditions, like the Celestial Masters, that elevated Heshanggong’s reading of Laozi’s Classic to canonical status, something confirmed by a Dunhuang manuscript describing the ordination process for Daoist priests. Apparently, each priest would first receive the original Daodejing, followed by the Heshanggong text, and only later would they engage with other commentaries (Schipper 1985). This verifies that for Daoist priests, Heshanggong’s interpretation held prominence over all others. This record is further supported by Heshanggong’s importance among the many Daodejing editions found at Dunhuang. Though various Daodejing commentaries, including the Xiang’er, were also found among the 70 assorted Daodejing manuscripts, the number of manuscripts that either preserve the commentary or are identified as the Heshanggong edition exceeds any other (Zhu 2004). This is particularly significant given how many commentaries and editions are mentioned in the History of the Han Dynasty (Hanshu 漢書) and History of the Sui Dynasty (Suishu 隋書) bibliographies. Beyond its status at Dunhuang, a center on the periphery of the Chinese empire, we also find Heshanggong discussed in Tang dynasty court records. In 719  CE, there was a debate at court concerning the canonical status of various works, and Liu Zixuan 劉子玄 suggested Heshanggong’s commentary was inferior and should be replaced by that of Wang Bi (Hung 1957: 79). The fact that Heshanggong was thus attacked in the imperial court conveys the status this reading of the Daodejing held within the government and society as a whole. It was clearly the official interpretation prescribed by the court, and even though Liu’s criticisms were taken into consideration, the response was quite weak and the canonical role of Heshanggong 3  Alan Chan (1991) has critiqued Rao’s textual filiality argument and the author has suggested a more specific early Eastern Han date based on term frequency (Tadd 2013), but both rule out much earlier or later dates. 4  Scholars also have argued that Heshanggong’s influence on the received Daodejing extends to the normally accepted chapter divisions (Yin 2017).

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remained unchanged. The only positive note Liu Zixuan received from the court was a statement that studying Wang Bi should be encouraged so that it might not be completely forgotten (Hung 1957: 83). Though the Tang dynasty represented the height of Heshanggong’s popularity, during the Song, when many other influential commentaries were written by famous scholars like Wang Anshi 王安石, Wang Pang 王雱, Sima Guang 司馬光, and Wu Cheng 吳澄, Heshanggong’s commentary continued to impact the reception of the Daodejing. First, among a collection of classical quotations translated into Tangut some time during the Tangut Empire (1038–1227) and rediscovered at Khara Khoto, we find Heshanggong’s words attributed to Laozi (Nie 2002: 85–86). Though this type of confusion speaks to a low-quality text, it shows that Heshanggong’s commentary was common enough to have in some instances become confused with the original. Second, in the Southern Song, when the great Confucian master Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 (1137–1181 CE) endeavored to produce a new edition of the Daodejing, he not only chose the Heshanggong version of the text, but also included the commentary as well (Zhang 1931). This choice by a famous Neo-Confucian affirms the continued importance of Heshanggong in this period, and that it was not simply a work for Daoist priests. While we likely will never know the author or composition date of Heshanggong’s commentary on the Daodejing, this should not deter us from studying its teachings. After all, for those interested in Daoist thought and the transmission and reception of the Daodejing in China, Heshanggong’s later history makes it a work that cannot be ignored.

3  Dao’s Nature is Ziran Having established the origins and reception of the Heshanggong Commentary, let us turn to its content, specifically its systematizing vision of Dao and ziran as they appear on the three levels of cosmos, individual, and society. Befitting a work that has inspired Daoist priests, most notable is the fundamentally transcendent status of both Dao and ziran. Beginning at the level of cosmos, ziran reveals the key relationship between Dao and the myriad things, which can be further subdivided into three levels of meaning. First, Heshanggong considers ziran the defining characteristic or the root nature of Dao, depicting a Dao that is “self-so” in so far as it does not rely on or is influenced by any external thing: it is solitary and transcends all. In this sense, this ziran quality could actually be a gloss for the state of transcendence itself. Second, ziran defines the relationship between Dao and the manifest world. Although Heshanggong articulates a notion similar to the “Will of God” with his term the “Will of Dao” (daoyi 道意), Dao does not directly command or control the myriad things. It simply causes them to follow and imitate Dao’s ziran, and thus each creature, leaf, and stone has a portion of freedom that arises from the independent “self-so” state of

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ziran. Third, Dao creates a ziran order, something akin to the cosmic rules that govern the creation and development of all things. This type of ziran must not be mistaken for Nature, but represents the order that underlies Nature and emerges spontaneously from Dao. For Heshanggong, this ziran order of Dao rests on the system of Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 and denotes a form of cosmic authority. Heshanggong’s key philosophical move, on which the logic of his entire system rests, involves making ziran the basic nature of the transcendent Dao, a quality that only partially manifests in other things. Commenting on the famous line from chapter 25 “Dao emulates ziran 道法自然,” he says, “the nature of Dao is ziran; there is nothing that it emulates 道性自然, 無所法也.” This statement undergirds Heshanggong’s entire conception of both Dao and ziran, with the latter being the essential topic requiring thorough investigation. To start with, it makes two key points about this “nature of Dao.” First, ziran is a kind of nature or quality. Second, the quality of ziran means not having to rely on or be contingent on any external thing. While the first point that Dao has a ziran “nature” reveals a bold innovation that later influences all the Chinese Three Teachings (Zhang 2013), the second point that “there is nothing that it emulates” forms the keystone to this particular reading of ziran. Without it, identifying what quality ziran indicates as the nature of Dao would be difficult. With it, we can conclude that as nothing precedes Dao for it to emulate, ziran designates the quality of being self-so, self-existing, self-generating, and self-defining. This state of the ziran Dao is particularly striking when compared with those of heaven, earth, and humanity, as mentioned earlier in Daodejing chapter 25. Those famous lines declare, “humanity emulates earth, earth emulates heaven, heaven emulates Dao 人法地, 地法天, 天法道.” This structure of emulation leads us to conclude that the three great existences of heaven, earth, and humanity by virtue of emulating something else cannot possess a pure state of ziran. They are contingent on and transcended by the ziran Dao that uniquely emulates nothing. Thus, the ziran Dao is identified with transcendence and independence, in contrast to the state of all that relies on and is influenced by what is beyond itself. Interestingly, because the relationship between the transcendent and contingent involves emulation, we must admit that all things, including heaven, earth, and humanity, possess a measure of ziran, that fundamental quality of Dao. Their imperfect ziran results from the process of creation as division (Daodejing, chapter 42) and emulation, and thus logically must differ from the self-contained unity of Dao on which they necessarily rely. Humans, in particular, have a complex relationship with the perfectly ziran and the imperfectly ziran that demands a careful parsing in regard to the levels of this quality. This split between the transcendently unified total ziran of Dao and the world of division that partially embodies this Dao’s “nature” reveals a model where each thing slots into a hierarchy according to the quantity of the universal ziran it embodies. While this hierarchy of authority involves Dao as creator and ruler of the myriad things, we must stress its nature as a ziran and non-active power. Heshanggong’s Dao has dominion and will, specifically daoyi 道意, yet it never directly controls

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the myriad things or establishes explicit rules and laws.5 It has a will and a consciousness, even if never directly asserting or forcefully imposing it on the world. Dao is by nature ziran (self-so, spontaneous, carefree), and it interacts and maintains a relationship with the myriad beings according to this quality. This includes the sense of ziran found in chapter 23’s “few words are ziran 希言自然,” which explains why the ziran Dao does not speak and never dispenses laws or issues commands even though it possesses a will.6 Although Dao does not engage directly or linguistically with the myriad things, they still respond spontaneously (ziran) to it. In his comment on the chapter 51 passage “this venerating of Dao and honoring of virtue is not commanded, but is constant and spontaneous (ziran) 道之尊, 德之貴, 夫莫之命而常自然,” Heshanggong explains: “Though Dao and the One do not issue commands or decrees, the myriad things constantly and spontaneously (ziran) respond to them like shadows and echoes 道一不命召, 萬物常自然, 應之如影響.”7 This type of “spontaneous” ziran depicts the myriad beings as following and relying on Dao because their type of ziran state is only a semblance of the true ziran of Dao. Things appear spontaneous because no command is heard; however, they are still being directed by an unseen order. They are still emulating the orders of Dao, heaven, and earth, even if they seem fully spontaneous and self-so. Dao and the myriad things relate to each other like form and shadow or sound and echo; yet, Heshanggong seeks to emphasize how Dao obliquely and subtly directs the myriad things. Even without brute force or the power of word and command, Dao profoundly impacts everything. Such is the power of its primary quality of ziran. While Dao never barks orders, its status vis-à-vis all manifest things remains clear. For just as definite logical priority exists between a sound and the echo it produces, this represents a hierarchical relationship, a relationship of authority and subtle domination. The hierarchical status between the transcendent and independent Dao and the contingent myriad things brings us again to the concept of daoyi (Will of Dao). Heshanggong says, “I only dread enacting something for fear of losing the Will of Dao 獨畏有所施為, 恐失道意” (chapter 53). This comment suggests that the principle of wuwei 無為 (non-action) relates to this concept of the “Will of Dao.” Not 5  Taking Heshanggong’s Dao as the ultimate authority, as the ruler of the cosmos, does not suggest an Abrahamic law-giving and law-enforcing type God. Such a conflation was made by early missionaries and sinologists, like that found in the first translation of the Daodejing by Jesuit missionaries. Those translators drew on their own mystical tradition, taking the Non-Being of Dao as the supreme nature of God (Liber Sinicus Tao Te Kim; Von Collani 2015). Heshanggong, along with many other Han Daoists, not to mention later “religious” Daoist thinkers, mention the concepts of daoyi 道意 and tianxin 天心 (mind of heaven). Because of these notions, we must not prematurely reject the possibility of real similarities between the God of the Bible and the Dao of the Daodejing, specifically the transcendent vision of Dao found in Heshanggong’s writings. 6  While many other readings of the Daodejing and early Daoism focus on the rejection of language as an epistemological stance, Heshanggong often presents it as a political critique aimed at the ruler’s power of performative utterance (e.g., chapters 34, 54, and 57). 7  This text follows three Japanese manuscript editions. Yamashiro 2006: 827.

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being wuwei results in going against the Will of Dao.8 In this context, does daoyi then equal ziran? Heshanggong further states in chapter 71: Petty people do not know the Will of Dao, but wantonly engage in the business of exaggerating their knowledge of it to make themselves prominent. This internally harms their essence and spirit, reducing their lifespan and lessening their years.

小人不知道意, 而妄行強知之事以自顯著, 內傷精神, 減壽消年也.

This passage stresses that following the Will of Dao results in health and longevity, while opposing it has the reverse effect. Such a moral-universe framework heavily resembles the theories used to explain natural disasters during the Han. In those models, when people, especially the ruler, go against heaven, they are punished with natural disasters, a causality called the mutual resonance of heaven and humanity (tian ren ganying 天人感應). In Heshanggong’s case, the resonance functions between Dao and things, with the implication that the myriad things can know the Will of Dao and can work with or against it. Because these things, especially in the case of humans, have some portion of Dao’s ziran nature, some portion of independence, they possess free will choice within the context of the larger ziran natural order. Thus, they can reject or ignore the Will of Dao and behave chaotically, but bound by their contingent status must inevitably face consequences for such inappropriately applied freedom. Nevertheless, this raises a core question: How do we know the Will of Dao? For one, it lacks explicit commands akin to the prohibitions of the God of heaven (tianshen 天神) found in the Shanghai Museum text The Three Virtues (Ma 2005; Wang 2016). It is simply ziran. But how do we know this ziran’s will so that we can avoid acting against it? One possible answer comes from the theory of ziran in the Taipingjing 太平經, though that text goes even farther than Heshanggong in proclaiming that principle’s transcendent authority. It says: Heaven fears Dao and Dao fears ziran … Ziran is what maintains the Dao of heaven and earth, enacts Dao unceasingly, and brings about the mutual movement, conquest, and generation of Yin and Yang … If Dao and heaven do not accord with ziran, they cannot attain completion. Thus, the myriad things all attain completion by following ziran. Without ziran they would never attain completion.

天畏道, 道畏自然 ⋯⋯ 自然使天地之道守, 行道不懈, 陰陽相傳, 相付相生也 ⋯⋯ 天道不因自然, 則不可成。故萬物皆因自然乃成, 非自然悉難成 (Wang 2014b: 719).

When compared to Heshanggong, the Taipingjing articulation of ziran has a stronger flavor of authority or even dominance.9 Yet, the Taipingjing also clarifies the close connection between ziran and flourishing, for even heaven and Dao must accord with ziran, lest they cease to function or thrive. More importantly, ziran is 8  Reading wuwei to mean “working to align with the Will of Dao” defuses much of the paradox of this concept. Instead of meaning “trying not to try,” it suggests trying to avoid contradicting the divine authority. For more on the paradoxical reading of wuwei, see Slingerland 2003 and 2014. 9  Ziran holds an especially important place in the Taipingjing, where it appears 154 times. It is one of the texts that highlight the historical value of a transcendent reading of the term. Tadd 2013: 583.

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what “brings about the mutual movement, conquest, and generation of Yin and Yang.”10 This underscores the vital connection of ziran and the Yin-Yang pair and offers a hint at how to know the “Will of Dao.” Although Dao proclaims no laws and issues no decrees, the Will of Dao does appear as the order or “law” of ziran. This brings us to the third layer of the ziran relationship of Dao and things. Just like the anonymous author of the Taipingjing, Heshanggong emphasizes the role of Yin-Yang in the ziran order. For example, when chapter 42 famously speaks of the cosmic One, Two, and Three birthed by Dao, Heshanggong interprets these numbers as qi, Yin-Yang, and heaven, earth, and humanity respectively. This reveals a sequential, and thus hierarchical, creation. More than this, Heshanggong’s comments reveal the primal status of Yin-Yang in his cosmology and suggests the pair’s role in the ziran order that emerges from Dao, something confirmed in the following excerpt summarizing chapter 23: This chapter explains that categories of things return to each other. The same sounds respond to each other. The same qi seek each other. Clouds follow from the Dragon, and winds follow from the Tiger. Water flows in the damp, and fire resides in the dry. These are ziran categories.

此言物類相歸, 同聲相應, 同氣相求。雲從龍, 風從虎, 水流濕, 火就燥, 自然之類也.

Strikingly, this paragraph nearly duplicates one from the Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes) where the original states: The same sounds respond to each other. The same qi seeks each other. Water flows in the damp, and fire resides in the dry. Clouds follow from the Dragon, and winds follow from the Tiger. The sage creates and the myriad things follow. Those rooted in heaven are superior and those rooted in earth are inferior, as everything follows their category.

同聲相應, 同氣相求。水流濕, 火就燥, 雲從龍, 風從虎, 聖人作而萬物覩。本乎天 者親上, 本乎地者親下, 則各從其類也 (Lau 1995: 2).

Aside from a shifting sentence order, the essential divergence in these two passages appears in the final statements. The Yijing has “everything follows their category,” while Heshanggong states “these are ziran categories.” Both texts depict a cosmos based on the resonance of Yin-Yang categories; however, Heshanggong identifies this order with the term ziran. Thus, for the commentator, the fundamental qi-types of Yin and Yang remain integral to this order of ziran, with water and fire existing as particular manifestations within said order, and most importantly these categories functionally frame the spontaneous resonances between things as articulated by the lines “the same sounds respond to each other. The same qi seeks each other.” This “spontaneous” resonance explains part of the logic for terming this system ziran, aside from the status Heshanggong gives it as the “nature” of Dao. This ziran order emerges from a Dao that transcends its creation, an essential fact already confirmed by chapters 25 and 42. Thus, the worldly order, though seemingly spontaneous, exists in a causal system, one where the myriad things are

10  See Barbara Hendrischke’s chapter in this Companion for a detailed study of Yin-Yang in the Taipingjing.

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forever dependent on the pure ziran state of Dao. In other words, the spontaneity of Nature epitomizes a lesser and imperfect reflection of true ziran. Based on the preceding discussion, we can resolutely conclude that Heshanggong’s ziran is a transcendent quality of Dao which its creations embody to different degrees. Ziran in the world also underlies the way in which the order of the cosmos functions, an order described in terms of Yin-Yang, but this spontaneous “Nature” merely mimics the supreme ziran state of Dao. Furthermore, because that transcendent level exists, humanity has the possibility of free will choice and can stand with or against this core principle of our creator. For Heshanggong, we should model the transcendent ziran of Dao, but this is something that we must strive for. It is not our “natural” state from birth. The truly ziran state for humans, to repurpose the language of philosophy, does not signify the authentic state of what “is,” but represents an authoritative state of what “ought” to be.11

4  Attaining Dao’s Ziran The previous discussion reveals the state of ziran as the nature of Dao and the key mediator between Dao and the myriad things; however, in doing so it raises a major issue. From the perspective of humanity, do we consider this ziran a state that “is” or one that “ought” to be? The author believes that Heshanggong does not ultimately select one or the other, but places them on different levels.12 The nature of Dao is ziran, which means that its relationship to the things it has created must also “be” ziran. Thus, even though there exists the “Will of Dao,” Dao never issues commands, simply allowing the myriad things to spontaneously develop without fatalistic external constraints. Furthermore, because Dao is ziran and the model for all contingent things, the myriad things inevitably preserve some ziran in themselves. In summation, the non-oppressive Dao provides space for its creations to be partially independent and self-so, and they also intrinsically possess such qualities by virtue of emerging from the ziran Dao. In the case of humans, this portion of ziran means that people have free will, have some of the autonomy possessed by the completely transcendent Dao. This is the “is” level of ziran for humans. Furthermore, the ziran order of Yin and Yang mentioned in the last section also “is.” Yet, because humans have choice and the potential to change ourselves, the fully transcendent form of ziran, the type of ziran  The author understands this application may stretch Hume’s original sense used to critique the naturalistic fallacy (Hume 2007). Our purpose is to reveal the potentially dual nature of ziran as a term that can refer to both what “is” and what “ought” to be. 12  A.C. Graham wrote an article titled “Taoist Spontaneity and the Dichotomy of ‘Is’ and ‘Ought’” in which he suggests that the spontaneous Daoist is not ruled by emotion or subjectivity, but responds with awareness to changing objective goals that accord with the transformations of Dao. Graham 1983: 11. He suggests that Daoism provides an answer to the is-ought problem by confirming that one can never step out of the spontaneous. Graham 1983: 19. This sophisticated analysis assumes a very different type of ziran as spontaneous Nature that does not apply to Heshanggong or our present discussion of is-ought. 11

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inherent in Dao, offers an ideal “ought” to strive for. This “ought” level of ziran transcends the limits of the ziran order of the world. In other words, the higher level of ziran transcends the realm called “Nature” in Western parlance, and those who attain it, in Heshanggong’s view, become true immortals.13 That achievement reveals the full authority of the transcendent Dao, that supreme way of being which we “ought” to emulate. This conceptual space between the “is” of normal human existence, even within the ziran order of Yin-Yang, and the “ought” of transcendent ziran makes the latter something one must strive toward. Because of this, the logical conclusion of obtaining Dao’s nature, based in ziran’s root meaning of being completely oneself without reliance on anything external, becomes the state of immortality. How might this specifically be so? To start with, Heshanggong’s ziran conception, as a transcendent state, includes space that allows for radical transformation of one’s lifestyle and even one’s body. From the perspective of what “is,” each person is born with unique qualities or individual natures. This is a result of the ziran Yin-­ Yang order that always is spontaneously changing and varying the admixtures of Yin and Yang in each person or thing. The imperfect worldly manifestations of ziran initiate variety and plurality, and thus each person that exists in the world created by the ziran Dao is distinct. When Heshanggong comments on the chapter 1 line “the profound and once again profound 玄之又玄,” he says: [This means] that within heaven resides another heaven, and so endowed qi can be scant or abundant. Those who obtain central, harmonious, and clear [qi] become worthies and sages, and those who obtain blundering, confused, and sullied [qi] become the greedy and licentious.

天中復有天也。稟氣有厚薄, 得中和滋液則生賢聖, 得錯亂污辱則生貪淫也.

To paraphrase, the Yang qi substance that comes from heaven determines the overall Yin-Yang balance in a person. Those with copious amounts of Yang become worthies and sages, while those with minimal amounts become gluttons and lechers. Due to the ziran quality of Dao, this wide possible range of bodily substances and the various correlated inborn character traits do not signify “natural” fated circumstances, states of ziran that simply “are” and can never be changed. With our portion of ziran we can and “ought” to purposely seek the pure totality of ziran, something articulated in the next and final line of the chapter “the gate of total sublimity 眾妙之門.” The commentator says: He who knows that within heaven resides another heaven and, therefore, that endowed qi can be abundant or scant, will expel emotions and remove desires to preserve the central harmony. This is called knowing the gate of Dao’s potency.

能知天中復有天, 稟氣有厚薄, 除情去欲守中和, 是謂知道要之門戶也.

 Of course, not all early Daoists found ziran and immortality compatible. For example, the famous supporter of Huang-Lao Daoism Han Wendi wrote the following in his posthumous edict: “Death is the order of heaven and earth and the ziran of things, so why should you mourn for me? 死者天 地之理, 物之自然者, 奚可甚哀.” Sima Qian 1963: 433.

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Put simply, if we understand the reality behind why everyone receives different amounts of Yang qi, we can apply that knowledge to cultivating and changing ourselves into more bountifully Yang people. This affirms that Daoism can encourage altering one’s innate qualities, and that we should not necessarily identify doing so with the problematic youwei 有為 (forced action). After all, Heshanggong rejects this fatalistic type of ziran. For him, we have the power, because of ziran, to become more ziran, more independent, more removed from the influences and disruptions of manifest and sensory things, and thus more transcendent. In chapter 48, Heshanggong comments on the line “engaging Dao they decrease daily 為道日損,” saying, “‘Dao’ refers to Dao of ziran. ‘Decrease daily’ means emotions, desires, and patterned ornaments diminish and decrease daily 道謂自然 之道也。日損者, 情欲文飾日以消損.” This suggests that ziran, as the nature of Dao, contradicts emotions and desires often classified as belonging to human nature. Desires result from being drawn out of ourselves towards some external object and thus pull us away from the independence of ziran. This is a natural process that “is,” being part of our basic self-so human selves, but represents the opposite of what Heshanggong means by this term. The commentator’s ziran is a transcendent state and principle. It is not ultimately the authenticity of unadulterated Nature, inborn human “nature,” or what “is,” but, for humans, is a transcendence we “ought to seek.” It is not some idealized Rousseauian “State of Nature” that humans have lost.14 We are born into the state of imperfect ziran, but we are not fallen: we are simply contingent. Still, our ziran facilitates evil, both because of what we lack and because the portion we retain empowers us to choose, even if our choices clash with the order of Dao. Thus, Heshanggong does not endorse the return to our “State of Nature,” instead suggesting we seek Dao’s “State of ziran.” We must return to a state prior to our creation, and thus although his calls to “reject emotion and expel desire” might go against “human nature,” one finds no logical conflict. The true goal lies beyond what “is” for humans and human nature by grasping the nature of Dao: ziran. If ziran only represented what “is,” then learning and education, associated with Confucianism, would be incompatible with this foundational ideal.15 Yet,  The famous Rousseau critic Irving Babbitt argues pre-Qin Daoism closely resembles Rousseau’s philosophy. See Babbitt 1919: 395–398. Many scholars of Daoism similarly suggest the tradition aims to return to our original natural state, and rejects actively seeking self-improvement. For example, Alan Chan in his review of Laozi’s teachings says: “Conscious efforts at cultivating moral virtues only accentuate the loss of natural goodness, which in its original state would have been entirely commonplace and would not have warranted distinction or special attention (chapters 18, 38).” See Chan 2018. While this view might be a fine reading of the Daodejing original, Heshanggong argues that original state is still not ziran, and thus we need actual effort to return to the transcendent Dao. 15  Alan Chan also says: “Confucian ethics assumes that learning and moral self-cultivation can bring about personal and social improvement. From the Daoist perspective, artificial effort to ‘improve’ things or to correct the order of ziran only fuels a false sense of self that alienates human beings from their inherent ‘virtue’.” See Chan 2018. 14

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Heshanggong seeks to have it both ways with his embrace of a transcendent ziran that we ought to seek. While unpacking the chapter 64 passages “studies the unstudied 學不學” and “desires the undesired 欲不欲,” the commentator explains: The sage studies what others do not. Others study knowledge and trickery, while the sage studies ziran. Others study regulating the world, while the sage studies regulating his bodily-self through preserving Dao’s perfection.

聖人學人所不學。人學智詐, 聖人學自然; 人學治世, 聖人學治身; 守道真也.16

This means that ziran can be learned. To study it does not return one to a childlike “State of Nature,” but enables the realization of Dao’s perfection. The other related comment says: The sage desires what others do not. Others desire prominence, while the sage desires to conceal his brilliance. Others desire patterned ornamentation, while the sage desires unadorned simplicity. Others desire sensuality, while the sage desires virtue.

聖人欲人所不欲。人欲彰顯, 色, 聖人欲於德.

聖人欲伏光;

人欲文飾,

聖人欲質朴;

人欲

The simplicity depicted here does not suggest a state of primitive society, but one where the powerful have no selfish desire. It is the state without emotion or lust for what dazzles the senses because it is pure virtue. Yet, what does realizing the full ziran of Dao look like for humans? Heshanggong suggests the attainment of longevity or perhaps even immortality. Quite strikingly the commentator raises this topic in the very beginning of his work as part of the basic definition of his “constant Dao” (chang Dao 常道). Concerning the Daodejing’s second phrase “is not the constant Dao 非常道” he says: “It is not the Dao of ziran longevity. The constant Dao simply employs non-action to nourish the spirits and non-engagement to pacify the people 非自然長生之道, 常道當以無為 養神, 無事安民.” This “ziran longevity” (ziran changsheng 自然長生) might simply refer to “naturally” living out one’s lifespan. Certainly, the Laozi Zhigui 老子指 歸 implies that meaning when it states: “If you weaken the people’s emotions and desires, follow their natures and lives, cause the people to be without knowledge, then they will achieve longevity and live long 奄民情欲, 順其性命, 使民無知, 長 生久視” (Wang 2014a: 64). This type of worldly ziran longevity enables one to reach old age and could be described as authentically fulfilling one’s self-so existence, whether it be long like a tree or short like a mushroom. Heshanggong’s worldview, however, suggests a different reading. Instead of proposing people “follow their natures and lives” (shun qi xingming 順其性命), the commentator urges them to “recover their nature and life” (fuhuan xingming 復還性命). This is the distinction between following what “is” and recovering what “ought” to be. The full chapter 16 comment on the latter says: “This explains that those who are peaceful and still recover their nature and life, and thus  I follow Zheng Chenghai 鄭成海 in taking the phrase “studies what others cannot” (ren suo buneng xue 人所不能學) as “studies what others do not” (ren suo bu xue 人所不學). Zheng 1971: 391. 16

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avoid death 言安靜者是為復還性命, 使不死也.” There can be no doubt that this type of ziran longevity means seeking the transcendent level of Dao beyond even the influence of death. This is the logical result of reading ziran as signifying total independence from any external influence, total self-existence. Due to Heshanggong’s alternative foundational definition of ziran, this term often translated as natural, naturalness, or even Nature thus becomes bound to the most unnatural of human acts—overcoming death. Yet, we find logic within Heshanggong’s approach. Ziran as the state of non-death could be described as the absolute extreme manifestation of the two levels of “is” and “ought.” Socrates “is” mortal, but for Heshanggong he “ought” not die if he becomes fully ziran and attains Dao. In his articulation of ziran as the state of human transcendence, Heshanggong states concretely in chapter 13: If I had no bodily form, attaining Dao’s ziran, lightly ascending on clouds, entering and exiting where there are no openings, and unifying with Dao’s spirit, how then could I suffer?

使吾無有身體, 得道自然, 輕舉昇雲, 出入無間, 與道通神, 當有何患.

Thus, the commentator depicts the reality of a fully ziran human being who has transcended all limitations and external restraints. It is not the ziran of the Yin-Yang order, but that of Dao. Heshanggong never uses the expression “immortal” (xianren 仙人) to describe such a person, but once mentions “perfected person” (zhenren 真 人), a term in later times referring to the supreme state of immortality. In a chapter 54 comment he says: Cultivating Dao in one’s bodily-self, one cherishes the qi and nourishes the spirits. This increases longevity and extends one’s lifespan. If one’s virtue is thus, only then will one become a perfected person.

修道於身, 愛氣養神, 益壽延年。其德如是, 乃為真人.

This passage remains vague about how long the lifespan of the perfected person becomes; however, the connection between “virtue” and realizing this state provides some clarification. This “virtue” (de 德), which enables one to become perfected, diverges from Confucius’s moral virtue because for Heshanggong it represents yet another type of qi, a concrete substance that inhabits the body and the cosmos. In fact, virtue is “original qi” (yuanqi 元氣) (chapter 51) and equates to the cosmic principle of the “One” (chapter 39). This means the famous chapter 42 line “Dao generates the One 道生一” could be rephrased as “Dao generates virtue” or “Dao generates original qi.” Another way to describe this original qi of virtue is the Yang qi dispensed by heaven that provides the basis for all life and activity. Therefore, to cultivate virtue is to transform one’s natural endowment of original qi, that Yang qi from heaven, developing it to the point where it equals the original pure cosmic substance. Thus, we can posit that the perfect person’s achievement of “virtue” equates with the transcendent state of Dao’s ziran. Still, this reading remains speculative, so to determine the meaning of perfected person we must look elsewhere to flesh out the Han version of this concept relevant

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to Heshanggong. In the Huangdi Neijing 黄帝内經, another text dated vaguely to the Han dynasty, it says: I have heard that the ancient perfected person upholds heaven and earth, grasps Yin and Yang, breathes essential qi, singularly secures spirit, and his flesh is like a single substance. Thus, he can live longer than heaven and earth, existing without end. This is his Dao of life.

余聞上古有真人者, 提挈天地, 把握陰陽, 呼吸精氣, 獨立守神, 肌肉若一, 故能壽 敝天地, 無有終時, 此其道生 (Ren 1986: 9).

Supposing that Heshanggong’s perfected person resembles the one so evocatively depicted by the Huangdi Neijing, it means he idealizes a supreme human who, by attaining the state of perfect ziran equal to Dao, completely transcends the realm of the Yin-Yang order. The Yin-Yang order identified with ziran is the imperfect ziran that “is” the immanent world, the world of transformation, of cause and effect, a framework in which to grow and then die. But true ziran floats beyond change, a state dependent on nothing, and thus beyond life and death. Although Heshanggong never confirms that transformations of Yin and Yang have no bearing on his “perfect person,” he does describe Dao, and thus the pure state of ziran, in such terms. “Dao moves all throughout heaven and earth. There is nothing it does not enter. Residing in Yang, it does not burn; dwelling in Yin, it does not rot. There is nothing it does not penetrate, yet it is never imperiled 道通行天地, 無所不入, 在陽不焦, 託陰不腐, 無不貫穿, 而不危怠也” (chapter 25). Combined with our previous knowledge that the nature of Dao is ziran, this passage only further confirms that Heshanggong considers the state of the ziran to be independent and unaffected by any external existence. Dao as ziran is self-so, and thus Yin and Yang do not trouble it, and form does not impede it wherever it exists in the world. It exceeds all things, residing “outside” the realm of change. It is also worth noting the similarity between Dao that has “nothing it does not penetrate” and the transcendent human who after realizing Dao’s ziran “enters and exits where there are no openings.” We might tentatively conclude that subsequent to “attaining Dao’s ziran” a human becomes a transcendent perfected ­person—comparable to that presented in the Huangdi Neijing passage—who is no longer affected by any external things and hence is “never imperiled” and cannot “suffer.” Though Heshanggong’s ziran does manifest on the level of the cosmic Yin-Yang order, something that partially resembles a natural law, it signifies much more than that state which “is.” Ziran’s true state is immortality. This violently unnatural attainment remains possible because we have the free will to strive for this higher plane, to become more like Dao through studying and embodying its nature. It is the reality we ideally “ought” to attain. Those who achieve this transcendent state of ziran are beyond peril, and the imperfect ziran order of Yin-Yang means nothing to them. Yet, for most people such a lofty goal remains a distant dream, and they can only hope to follow the patterns of the ziran order, a circumstance that brings us to the question of how the cosmic authority of the ziran Dao manifests in worldly society.

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5  Dao’s Ziran in Society Heshanggong’s notion of the ziran society, rooted in his transcendent Dao, emerges from his view of the “natural” state of the world as a divided and imperfect expression of ziran. The differentiated manifest world can only imitate and be contingent on Dao, with humanity being further contingent on heaven and earth. In the world, inequality is the order of things, and hierarchy, both in relation to the transcendent origins of creation and within the ziran Yin-Yang order, remains inevitable and inescapable. This unequal world results from the ziran nature of Dao and the imperfect freedom it allots creation. Yet, this portion of ziran freedom imbues humans with free will, with the potential to increase disparity and sink farther away from the total wholeness of Dao’s pure self-so-ness. Of course, as Heshanggong optimistically asserts, we can also choose Dao’s ziran and work to bring its transcendent state more fully into the world, that mundane lower manifestation of ziran, even if we never attain the complete ziran of the perfected person. One might actually say that ziran is both the cause and solution to the problems of the world. The spontaneous of division and allocation of ziran freedom given to things opens up space for evil, but it is the state of ziran that enables the possibility of improvement and provides the goal. Now, when speaking of ziran in society, the factors of implicit hierarchy and the potential for change, in regard to both the ruler and policy, remain key. Let us first consider the structure of society. As asserted above, because of the hierarchical nature of the worldly ziran order, Heshanggong accepts as given distinctions between the upper (Yang) and lower (Yin) segments of the population, between the ruler (Yang) and the ministers (Yin), and the ruler (Yang) and the people (Yin). Furthermore, because the commentator’s world is intrinsically hierarchical, no hard division exists between humanity and “nature” or “artificial” society and authenticity. Both sides belong to a common ziran order rooted in power differential.17 There is no way to “return” to unbounded nature or primitive life: hierarchy is accepted and civilization is not rejected as contra ziran. For Heshanggong, the givenness of hierarchical society not only follows from the internal logic of the transcendent Dao, but also from his own historical context. Living in the Han dynasty, Heshanggong addresses the needs of the period in which he wrote, and thus the political issues he seeks to resolve are those faced by a massive empire and not primordial villages. As a result, the commentator reads the chapter 80 passage “make the state small and the people few 小國寡民” meta­ phorically, explaining, “although the sage regulates a large state, it seems small …”  It is well known that Liu Xiaogan has heavily criticized translating ziran as “Nature,” and instead promotes the following: “Thus, we can say that ziran suggests the idealistic natural order of civilized societies and the world. So for narrative convenience we might use civilized naturalness or a natural civilized state as English stand-ins for ziran.” Liu 2015: 82. Liu does not consider civilization opposed to ziran, suggesting the most civilized society is the ziran society, i.e., the society that models Dao.

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聖人雖治大國, 猶以為小.” Heshanggong’s ideal society is a large state or even empire, and in any large state or society there must be division of labor and variation of power: “deeds involve the divisions of ruler and minister, superior and subordinate 事有君臣上下” (chapter 70), and “when the superior acts, the subordinates must follow 上行下必隨” (chapter 2). Heshanggong presumes hierarchy because within his political world no other option existed. Speaking as an imperial resident who assumes hierarchical order, the commentator unsurprisingly envisions the need for a ruling monarch.18 In line with the Daodejing, he terms this ideal ruler the sage (shengren 聖人), and because humans possess free will, this sage has the capacity and in fact the responsibility to transform society.19 To properly achieve a good society, the sage must strive to concretize the transcendent ziran state of Dao, as far as it may be possible for one remaining in society. Thus, unlike the perfected person, the sage works with imperfect ziran states within the ziran Yin-Yang order.20 Evidently not transcendent, the sage still represents a type of ideal. For an ­edifying description of this worldly paragon, and his compatriot the worthy person (xian 賢), we again turn to the Huangdi Neijing, previously so vital for comprehending the nature of the perfected person. Describing both these figures, it says: Next is the sage, who rests on the harmony of heaven and earth, follows the patterns of the eight winds. He adapts to the wishes of the worldly common people, has no anger in his heart, and does not wish to leave the world. He wears robes and emblems, but does not wish the people to see him do so. He does not exhaust his form with external affairs nor is troubled by internal ponderings, simply taking stillness as his work and self-contentment as his reward. His form does not decay and his essential spirit does not disburse, being able to live to one hundred. Next is the worthy person, who models the principles of heaven and earth, imitates the sun and moon, clarifies the order of the stars, classifies what accords and

 Heshanggong is quite far from depicting a type of anarchism or even proto-anarchism, like many have suggested for the Daoist political model (Yamaga 1992; Vivancos 1963; Ames 1983; Rapp 2012). 19  This interpretation closely resembles Michael LaFargue’s depiction of the ideal Daoist society. He says: “Thus, the ‘naturalness’ (ziran) of the society which he ‘helps along’ does not represent society as it would function if it had no ruler at all. It is what we would perhaps think of as a rather ‘romantic’ notion of naturalness, a state both in accord with the spontaneous impulse of the community, but also in accord with some human being’s notion of an ideal society” (LaFargue 2001: 52). The key message here is that the “naturalness” of society must seek an ideal ruler, as it cannot function spontaneously and completely without direction. This type of “naturalness” needs human intervention. Overall, this view resembles that of Heshanggong’s ziran society, though without such a strong sense of transcendence. 20  In this world of partial ziran, humanity, and especially the sage ruler, stands apart from all other things, for in chapter 42 humanity is included within the “three” that generate the myriad things. The commentator says: “Heaven, earth, and humanity together generated the myriad things. Heaven put them in motion, earth transformed them, and humanity raised and nourished them 天 地人共生萬物也, 天施地化, 人長養之也.” This makes humanity a co-creator with heaven and earth. The notion of co-creator is often reserved as a Confucian concept, and one emphasized by Confucians like Tu Weiming (1989: 70), because it sounds much too “artificial” and hence contra Daoist ziran. Still, Heshanggong quite explicitly suggests this type of reading, as the myriad things only come to completion through the husbandry of humanity, and in particular the sage. 18

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d­ iscords with Yin and Yang, and divides the four seasons. He follows the ancient method of according with Dao and can enhance his lifespan.

其次有聖人者, 處天地之和, 從八風之理, 適嗜欲於世俗之間, 无恚嗔之心, 行不欲 離於世, 被服章, 舉不欲觀於俗, 外不勞形於事, 內無思想之患, 以恬愉為務, 以自 得為功, 形體不敝, 精神不散, 亦可以百數。其次有賢人者, 法則天地, 象似日月, 辯列星辰, 逆從陰陽, 分別四時, 將從上古合同於道, 亦可使益壽而有極時 (Ren 1986: 9).

The sage “does not exhaust his form with external affairs,” and in this way embodies part of the basic nature of transcendent ziran, not being overly disturbed by anything peripheral to his self. Yet, the sage, moreover, maintains a this-worldly focus as he “adapts to the wishes of the worldly common people,” a notion much like Heshanggong’s statement “what the hundred clans consider good, the sage likewise considers good 百姓為善, 聖人因而善之” (chapter 49). The sage, as ruler, must consider the needs of the people, which explains why he cannot be completely ziran and independent of any external considerations. In this context, although the sage has achieved a significant measure of ziran, when compared with the average person, he cannot escape death and only lives to about a hundred. The Huangdi Neijing conveys this worldly version of ziran as embodied by the sage and the worthy person, who are both ideal types of rulers. In this role, they employ methods like following “ziran” by “taking stillness as [their] work and self-contentment as [their] reward.” This political model reminds of what one finds in Heshanggong. Heshanggong’s worldview assumes hierarchy and a single authoritative ruler at the top of the social order. However, because his cosmic ruler Dao has a ziran nature, the commentator emphasizes the importance of the human ruler imitating its ziran ways. This brings us to the question of government policy and ziran. We may recall that for the commentator, desire is the opposite of ziran. Thus, if those with power can remove their selfish desires, they can establish a relationship with the people that emulates the one between Dao and the myriad things, a ziran relationship that involves no oppression or manipulation. We observe this general principle in chapter 77 when Laozi writes: The Dao of heaven diminishes the excessive, and augments the deficient. The Dao of humanity is not like this. It diminishes the deficient to increase the excessive.

天之道, 損有餘而補不足。人之道則不然。損不足以奉有餘.

Heshanggong’s commentary reads: The Dao of heaven diminishes the excessive and augments the modest. It always considers central harmony best. The Dao of humanity stands opposed to the Dao of heaven. Ordinary worldly people take from the poor to give to the rich, and seize from the weak to enhance the strong.

天道損有餘而益謙 , 常以中和為上。人道則與天道反。世俗之人損貧以奉 富 , 奪弱以益強也.

From the cosmological perspective, once there is Yin and Yang there is difference and hierarchy, but at the ultimate level the ziran order of Yin-Yang returns to the

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central harmony of the One. Here, also, Heshanggong highlights that “the Dao of humanity stands opposed to the Dao of heaven.” This signifies that because humans have free will (as imperfect ziran), our natural state involves seeking the fulfillment of our selfish desires, which results in “taking from the poor to give to the rich, and seizing from the weak to enhance the strong.” We might say that this type of “Dao of humanity” resembles Hobbes’ “State of Nature,” the war of all against all, which is the opposite of Heshanggong’s ideal of the “State of ziran,” i.e., Dao of heaven. The ziran of the Dao of heaven is the utterly desireless and selfless. This is the contrast of is-ought. Furthermore, the chapter 77’s comments confirm that although humans must exist with the Yin-Yang order and cannot escape superior and subordinate relationships, those in the positions of authority have the responsibility to limit what they themselves possess and give to others. In this sense, ziran as non-desire has an active manifestation: generosity. This resembles what Chen Xia 陳霞 (2014) describes as the core of Daoist politics with the term “restricting the ruler to enhance the people” (qujun shenming 屈君伸民). The removal of selfish desires on the path to greater ziran involves many policy decisions that can be summarized by the term non-engagement (wushi 無事).21 Heshanggong gives this notion pride of place by situating it in the same chapter 1 comment that defines the constant Dao as the “Dao of ziran longevity.” There he exhorts the ruler to use “non-engagement to pacify the people 無事安民.” This essence of Heshanggong’s political philosophy manifests in multivalent forms that require some unpacking. For one, the ruler must diminish his oppression of the people and increase their measure of ziran by relying on the Dao of heaven instead of law and punishment. He also must avoid conscripting the people as his personal labor force or living extravagantly at their expense. Heshanggong provides a lengthy account of this in chapter 57. The Daodejing says: Using non-engagement, one attains the empire. How do I know it is so? Because of this: When the empire has many taboos, the people are poor … I abide in non-action and the people transform themselves. I love stillness and the people are upright of themselves. I am non-engaged and the people are prosperous on their own. I am desireless and the people are naturally unadorned. I am without emotion and the people are pure of themselves.

以無事取天下。吾何以知其然哉?以此。天下多忌諱而民彌貧 ⋯⋯ 我無為而民 自化, 我好靜而民自正, 我無事而民自富, 我無欲而民自朴, 我無情而民自清.

To which Heshanggong remarks: Using non-engagement and non-action one attains mastery of the empire. “This” means ‘the present.’ Laozi is saying, “How do I know the intent of heaven is thus? I know by observing the present.” “Empire” refers to ‘the ruler.’ “Taboos” mean ‘prohibitions.’ If  The Huainanzi 淮南子 also promotes “non-engagement” (wushi) which it describes as follows: “When a sagely ruler is in power, he is boundless and formless, quiet and voiceless. The officials are as if devoid of tasks (wushi); the court is as if devoid of people. There are no scholars in seclusion, no people in exile, none doing forced labor, and none wrongfully mutilated.” Major et al. 2010: 801.

21

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orders are manifold, then treachery is born. If prohibitions are numerous, then subordinates are deceitful. There is shared danger and thus there is poverty … The sage says, “I cultivate Dao and serve heaven. There is nothing I change or create, and the people transform themselves.” The sage says, “I love stillness, and so without decrees or discipline the people all become loyal and upright of themselves.” I do not engage in conscripting corvée laborers or soldiers, allowing the people to work in peace. Thus, all are prosperous on their own. I am constantly desireless, rejecting flowery designs in favor of plain clothing. Thus, the people follow me in possessing unadorned simple substance. The sage says, “I cultivate Dao by preserving perfection and extinguishing the six emotions, and so the people follow me and are pure.”

以無事無為之人, 使取天下為之主。此, 今也。老子言: 我何以知天意然哉, 以今 日所見知。天下謂人主也。忌諱者防禁也。今煩則姦生, 禁多則下詐, 相殆故 貧。聖人言: 我修道承天, 無所改作, 而民自化成也 ⋯⋯ 聖人言: 我好靜, 不言不 教, 而民皆自忠正也。我無徭役徵召之事, 民安其業, 故皆自富也。我常無欲, 去 華文, 微服飾, 民則隨我為質朴也。聖人言: 我修道守真, 絕去六情, 民自隨我而清也.

The commentary on this chapter demonstrates the multifaceted conception of this ziran policy. We will break it down slowly. To begin with, it offers a negative example: the non-ziran ruler who takes advantage of his position to oppress the people and uses his authoritarian rules to harm the people. This type of extreme power imbalance makes it impossible for the people to maintain their own portion of ziran, to exist on their own terms and in their own way be self-so. This oppressive situation then pushes them to become proactively less ziran as their desire to survive stimulates greater selfishness and shamelessness. By contrast, the ziran ruler is non-­ active, still, non-engaged, and desireless, so as to minimize the pressure and restrictions they impose on those below. The non-engaged ruler operates “without decrees or discipline.” Avoidance of oppressive rules has a practical benefit, but logically this governmental approach emerges from modeling the ziran Dao that does “not speak and [does] not instruct.” In many instances, Heshanggong interprets the original text’s mention of “speaking” and “instructing,” for both Dao and the ruler who strives to be ziran, to mean never issuing commands or proclamations that others must follow. Such a restriction on the employment of power offers yet again a different form of “diminishing the excessive” or “non-engagement.” If those who have power do not simply issue commands aimed at realizing their selfish desires, the distinction between superior and subordinate becomes less explicit and society manifests a greater portion of “central harmony.” Other forms of “non-engagement” are quite similar to this. For example, the policy behind the statement “I do not engage in conscripting corvée laborers or soldiers” subverts hierarchical dominance. If the ruler does not command those below to work for the realization of his desires, they will never feel the crush of hierarchy. Furthermore, by not bending the people to his will, the ruler allows his subjects, who would have been mostly farmers, to work their own land and become “prosperous on their own.” If we consider this from the perspective of a transcendent ziran, the ruler embodies the authoritative ziran relationship Dao has with things, and thereby allows people to become more ziran themselves. When not

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occupied by corvée projects, they are more independent, self-sustaining, and self-so. If those in positions of superior wealth “reject flowery designs in favor of plain clothing,” the division between rich and poor likewise diminishes. Heshanggong particularly distains the notion “wen 文”—translated above as “design” and that also signifies writing, classical texts, and culture—because it magnifies the existence of hierarchy and desire. He contrasts it directly with ziran (chapter 48). Still, he does not oppose civilization generally, merely expressing a preference for a civilization based on the ideal of simplicity and plainness. Of course, this critique contains an economic aspect as well. For nobles to afford clothing with “flowery designs,” they will need to tax the people more heavily, an activity that constrains their subordinates’ state of ziran. Thus, rejecting wen belongs to the ziran governmental policy of “non-engagement.” Lastly, according with the ziran Yin-Yang order of heaven and earth represents yet another form of ruling with “non-engagement,” as following this greater authority that determines patterns of change and cycles of life prevents the ruler from simply following his selfish desires and impulses. Heshanggong articulates this ideal quite plainly. As formerly mentioned, he reads chapter 8 as an elucidation of the nature of water being something which nearly reflects that of Dao. Relying on this interpretive stance he takes the passage “in acting, it excels at seasonality 動善 時” to mean, “in summer it melts and in winter it congeals. It acts on schedule, never missing heaven’s seasons 夏散冬凝, 應期而動, 不失天時.” Unmistakably the topic of this comment is water, but its function as example and metaphor aims to convey how people, especially the ruler, should harmonize with the ziran order unfolding through the cycles of Yin and Yang manifest in seasons. This represents a common sentiment found in other Han works, like the Mawangdui Huang-Lao manuscripts, which urge the ruler to correlate his actions with the proper season (Mawangdui Hanmu 1974: 27). It also resembles the level of ziran rulership of the Huangdi Neijing Worthy, someone who “classifies what accords and discords with Yin and Yang, and divides the four seasons.” To be thus, situates one far from the total freedom promised by transcendent ziran, yet a person can evade the disruptive effects of opposing Dao and achieve a greater self-so-ness by according with the cosmic order that limits regular humans. All of these different manifestations of “non-engagement” in government policy originate from the authoritative power of the non-oppressive ziran nature of Dao. In this sense, such a governmental approach posits a ziran ideal that the ruler must strive to achieve. It does not happen spontaneously. Heshanggong comments to Laozi’s notion in chapter 64 that “he supports the ziran of the myriad things, but does not dare act 以輔萬物之自然, 而不敢為” thusly: He teaches the people to return to their roots and fruits in hope of supporting the ziran of the myriad things true natures. The sage in his actions follows along, not daring to create or act for fear of separating from the root.

教人反本實者, 本也.

欲以輔助萬物自然之性也。聖人動作因循,

不敢有所造為,恐遠

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When the ziran sage follows Dao, he augments the portion of ziran within the myriad things. He is not “acting,” but still makes the conscious choice to align with Dao and increase ziran instead of “naturally” pursuing selfish desires for frivolous external objects. But what does it mean for things constrained by the order of earth, heaven, and Dao to have their ziran enhanced? In this context this generally means greater harmony, but there is also a more concrete result. When Heshanggong comments on the chapter 17 line “the hundred clans all say, ‘I am naturally so’ 百姓皆謂我自然” he explains: “The hundred clans do not know [the influence] of their ruler’s pure and abundant virtue, but instead think they themselves are naturally just so 百姓不知君上之德淳厚, 反以為己自當然也.” Here Heshanggong expands the term ziran into jizi dangran 己自當然, dividing and elaborating on the zi and ran to offer, perhaps, the most technical early definition of the term, and one which especially highlights the tension between its “is” and “ought” aspects. The people consider that they “themselves are naturally just so,” but do not realize that their “natural” and “spontaneous” state only exists because of the authoritative sage’s subtle influences. Without the ruler endlessly striving for the transcendent ziran ideal, as he “ought,” the people could never attain their own blissfully ignorant form of ziran that appears to occur spontaneously without effort. Of course, this low form of ziran diverges greatly from its supreme manifestation as the nature of Dao, though it still reflects the core quality of being unperturbed by external things. The people are not imposed upon by the ruler or troubled by anything that might exist if they lacked the protection of the sage. And while their ziran remains impure by virtue of needing the sage, in the context of normal human life this form of ziran allows the people to partially transcend social constraints so they can be self-so in the midst of the hierarchy-imbued cosmos. At the level of society, ziran plays both the role of authority for the true and most effective ruler who models Dao, and the authentic if ignorant state of the people who can live their lives unencumbered by any explicitly oppressive social hierarchy. Put another way, because the ideal of the transcendent ziran can be sought and at least partially attained by a sagely ruler, the people can become more ziran themselves. Still, both superior and subordinate are not truly free, truly ziran, because they are trapped within the cosmic and social ziran Yin-Yang orders that require them to function within pre-established boundaries, boundaries that if crossed will “spontaneously” punish them. This is why true ziran remains transcendent, and the Perfect Person alone realizes this fundamental nature of Dao.

6  Conclusion This chapter has highlighted Heshanggong’s reading of Dao and ziran, conceptions that frame his theories of cosmology, individual existence, and society. Like other understandings of Daoism, this system grounds everything in its cosmology, which in this case articulates ziran as the transcendent authoritative state of Dao.

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This explanation emerges from a particular exegesis aimed at explaining the ambiguous phrase “Dao emulates ziran.” This line concludes an especially difficult aphorism, for it does not fit the pattern of the immediately preceding phrases where humanity, earth, and heaven all emulate some “thing.” Depending on how one understands the term ziran here, it can easily mean Dao emulates itself or even all that is. In this case, taking ziran as a transcendent quality of Dao and not some “thing” to emulate is one reasonable approach that assists in constructing a systematic view of Dao and ziran. This interpretive move affirms transcendence in the Daodejing, a view likewise seen in the commentator’s discussions of the individual and society. This results in his identifying ziran with the state of immortality itself. In Heshanggong’s Daoism, ziran as the “nature of Dao” does not ultimately represent what “is,” but something we “ought” to strive for, even if it means radically transforming our “natural” bodies. Furthermore, transcendent ziran infuses Daoist social-political notions with hierarchy, even while promoting non-oppressive ziran rulership. The Daodejing offers copious space for interpretation, being a collection of aphorisms that holds no purely “historical” meaning separate from later systematizing efforts. Thus, commentaries like Heshanggong manifest the Classic’s potential throughout Daoist history. Heshanggong both develops and clarifies Dao and its essential quality of ziran, thereby bringing a coherent worldview to the Daodejing that includes both a cosmic order and Dao to transcend said order.

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Schipper, Kristofer. 1985. “Taoist Ordination Ranks in the Tunhuang Manuscripts.” In G. Naundorf, K.  H. Pohl and H.  H. Schmidt, eds., Religion und Philosophie in Ostasien: Festschrift Für Hans Steininger, 127–148. Würzburg: Königshausen and Neumann. Seidel, Anna. 1992. La Divinisation de Lao Tseu dans le Taoisme des Han [The Divinization of Laozi in Han Daoism]. Paris: École Française d’Extrême-Orient. Shima, Kunio 島邦男. 1974. “The Creation of the Heshanggong Edition of the Laozi 老子河上公 本の成立.” In Uno Tetsuto sensei hakuju shukuga kinen Tōyōgaku ronsō 宇野哲人先生白壽 祝賀紀念東洋學論叢. Tokyo. Sima, Qian 司馬遷. 1963. Shiji 史記. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Slingerland, Edward. 2003. Effortless Action: Wu-Wei as Conceptual Metaphor and Spiritual Ideal in Early China. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Slingerland, Edward. 2014. Trying Not to Try: The Art and Science of Spontaneity. New York: Crown. Tadd, Misha. 2013. Alternatives to Monism and Dualism: Seeking Yang Substance with Yin Mode in Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing. Ph.D. Dissertation, Boston University. Tadd, Misha. 2018. “Varieties of Yin and Yang in the Han: Implicit Mode and Substance Divisions in Heshanggong’s Commentary on the Daodejing.” Diogenes [online]. Tu, Weiming. 1989. Centrality and Commonality. Albany: State University of New York Press. Vivancos, Eduardo. 1963. El Libro del Camino y de la Virtud [Book of the Way and of Virtue]. México: El grupo libertario Tierra y Libertad. Von Collani, Claudia. 2015. “The Manuscript of the Daodejing in the British Library.” In Lawrence Wang-chi Wong and Bernhard Fuehrer, eds., Sinologists as Translators in the Seventeenth to Nineteenth Centuries, 39–86. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2000. The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on the Laozi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003. A Chinese Reading of the Daodejing: Wang Bi’s Commentary on the Laozi with Critical Text and Translation. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wang, Deyou 王德有. 2014a. Modern Translation of and Commentary on Laozi Zhigui 老子指歸 譯注. Beijing: Commercial Press. Wang, Ka 王卡. 1997. Heshanggong’s Chapter and Verse Commentary on Laozi’s Daodejing 老 子道德經河上公章句. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ming 王明. 2014b. Collated Edition of the Taipingjing 太平經合校. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Zhongjiang. 2016. Order in Early Chinese Excavated Texts: Natural, Supernatural, and Legal Approaches. Misha Tadd, trans. New York: Palgrave. Yamaga, Taiji. 1992. Lao-cu-Espernata [The Esperanto Laozi]. Numazu: Yamaga Bunko. Yamashiro, Yoshiharu 山城喜憲. 2006. A Study of Heshanggong’s Chapter and Verse Commen­ tary on Laozi’s Daodejing 河上公章句「老子道徳経」の研究. Tokyo: Kyūko Shoin. Yin, Zhihua 尹志華. 2017. “A Reexamination of the Transmitted Laozi Chapter Division Problem《老子》通行本分章問題再探討.” Zhexue Yanjiu 哲學研究, 7: 64–70. Yoshioka, Yoshitoyo 吉岡義豐. 1977. “The Heshanggong Laozi Edition and Religious Daoism 老 子河上公本と道教.” In Sakai Tadao 酒井忠夫, ed., Dōkyō no sōgōteki kenkyū 道教の綜合的 研究, 291–332. Tokyo: Kokusho Kankōkai. Yu, Yingshi 余英時. 1983. “The Development of Ancient China’s Afterlife Conception 中國古代 死後世界觀的演變.” Mingbao Yuekan 明報月刊, 18: 12–20. Zhang, Guangbao 張廣保. 2013. “Research on the Relationship Between Daoism and Buddhism Thought in Wei-Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasty of China 魏晋南北朝道教、佛教思 想关系研究.” Zongjiaoxue Yanjiu 宗教學研究, 4: 1–14. Zhang, Yunliang 張允亮. 1931. The Song Ma Edition of Laozi Daodejing 宋麻本老子道德經. Gugong Bowuyuan Yingyin. Zheng, Chenghai 鄭成海. 1971. Edited Heshanggong Laozi Commentary 老子河上公注斠理. Taipei: Zhonghua Shuju.

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Zhu, Daxing 朱大星. 2004. “On the Circulation of the Heshanggong Laozi at Dunhuang: With a Focus on Dunhuang Manuscripts 論河上公《老子》在敦煌的流傳:以敦煌文獻為中心.” Zhongguo Daojiao 中國道教, 4: 19–24. Misha Tadd is Associate Professor at Nankai University’s College of Philosophy. Before taking up his post at Nankai, he was a visiting scholar at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences’ Institute of Philosophy in Beijing, and a postdoctoral fellow and researcher under Tu Wei-ming at the Institute for Advanced Humanistic Studies at Peking University. His research interests include the boundary between “philosophical” and “religious” Daoism, Heshanggong and other Daodejing commentaries, and the global Daodejing translation phenomenon. His work has appeared in a variety of journals and edited anthologies.

Chapter 7

The Walking Dead: Morality, Health, and Longevity in the Xuanxue Method of the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi Ronnie Littlejohn

1  Introduction From 1900–1910, a number of manuscripts were discovered in the caves of Dunhuang 敦煌 on the northwestern silk road. One of these was a partial version of Laozi’s Daodejing 道德經 (hereafter, the Laozi), representing chapters 3–37 of the received text, and having amplifications and comments interspersed with the text. This work is now catalogued in the British Museum as Stein manuscript 6825 and is named the Xiang’er Commentary (i.e., Laozi Xiang’er Zhu 老子想爾注). The first modern study and critical edition of the text was published by Rao Zongyi 饒宗頤 in 1956.1 I think it probable that this text is a version of the one attributed to the founder of the Way of the Celestial Masters (Tianshi dao 天師道) movement, Zhang Ling 張陵 (a.k.a. Zhang Daoling 張道陵) by both Tang Emperor Xuanzong 唐玄宗 (r.  712–757  CE) and the Daoist ritual master Du Guangting (杜光庭) (850–933 CE).2 Use of the term Xiang’er 想爾in the Celestial Master work known as the Commands and Precepts for the Great Family of Dao (Dadao Jialing jie 大道家令戒) 1  A full English translation of the Xiang’er commentary on the Laozi with a critical introduction and notes has been published by Stephen Bokenkamp (1997). I use his translation throughout this chapter. I am not altogether in agreement with some of his renderings, but I only make note of these if they bear on the interpretations I am making in my argument. The one translation I think is most unfortunate is his rendering qi 氣 as “pneuma” (even often given in the plural, although this is frequently not called for). The Chinese text is available online (http://www.guoxue.com/xstj/lzxez/ lzf.htm) and is the version used in this chapter. A photographic copy of Stein 6825 is reproduced in Ninji Ofuchi (1978). For a Chinese critical edition of the text with comment and interpretation, see Gu 1997. 2  On the antiquity of the text and its dating, see Ofuchi 1991: 247–280; Bokenkamp 1997: 58–62.

R. Littlejohn (*) Department of Philosophy, Belmont University, Nashville, TN, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_7

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which dates prior to 255 CE seems to be a reference to the title of the text.3 If the title is mentioned, then the original Xiang’er commentary must predate 255 CE. Ninji Ofuchi’s inquiry into the history of the text finds that it has most often been attributed to Zhang Lu 張魯, the grandson of Zhang Ling, and sometimes to Zhang Ling himself. Rao Zongyi takes the position that it was written by Zhang Lu,4 but based on the teachings of Zhang Ling (Rao 1991: 4).5 Although, as Stephen Bokenkamp says, the authorship of the Xiang’er is ultimately unknowable with certainty, the attributions by these various figures can give us some confidence to trace the content of its teachings into the period before the dissolution of the Hangzhong Celestial Master political system in 215 CE, since Zhang Lu died in 216 CE. Based on late Six Dynasties and Tang sources, we know that the Xiang’er commentary belonged to the “taixuan 太玄” (Great Mystery) section of the Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏), and that it was among the texts that were ritually transmitted together with the Laozi to Daoist initiates.6 While we may associate the Xiang’er commentary with the Celestial Master’s tradition, a stronger case can be made for its affiliation with Xuanxue 玄學. The pursuit of the esoteric knowledge of the Yijng 易經, Daodejing 道德經, and Zhuangzi 莊子 is one way of grouping a set of texts into what we call Xuanxue. In the case of the Xiang’er text, if we are to avoid misreading it, we must acknowledge it does not share the Celestial Masters’ program of setting forth a political structure for the twenty-four centers, or laying out the intricacies of various practices or rituals. It is a meditation on the Laozi, a teacher’s guide to health and longevity, intended for the leaders of the centers known as libationers (jijiu 祭酒). The text says that the transformative influence of the leaders is like wind blowing through small grass (line 12).7 Assisting the people in their pursuit of longevity was considered to be part of the task of Celestial Masters leaders in the Xiang’er commentary:

3  Translated by Stephen Bokenkamp, this text is contained in Zhengyi Fawen Tianshi Jiaojie Kejing 正一法文天師教戒科經, 12a-19b. It contains the word Xiang’er 想爾, as well as expressing ideas and phrasing highly reminiscent of Laozi Xiang’er, and it cites one of the Xiang’er moral precepts. 4  Sources of the late sixth or early seventh century that name Zhang Lu as author or possible author of the Xiang’er include Chuanshou Jingjie Yi Zhujue 傳授經戒儀註訣 and Lu Deming’s 陸德明 (556–627 CE) Jingdian Shiwen 經典釋文. See Schipper and Verellen 2004: 74–77. 5  Sources of the eighth century or later name Zhang Daoling as the author. These sources are Tang Xuanzong Yuzhi Daode Zhenjing Shu 唐玄宗御製道德真經疏 (DZ679/TT358; Waizhuan 1b), and Daode Zhenjing Guangshengyi 道德真經廣聖義 (preface 2b). See Schipper and Verellen 2004: 74–77. 6  These sources include Chuanshou Jingjie Yi Zhujue (DZ1238/TT989); Jingdian Shiwen 經典釋 文 (in Sibu Congkan 四部叢刊, volumes 52–63); Sandong Fengdao Kejie Yifan 三洞奉道科誡儀 範 (Dunhuang Pelliot Manuscript, no. 2337); Zhang Wanfu’s 張萬福 (early eighth century) Chuanshou Sanding Jingjie Falu Lüeshuo 傳授三洞經戒法籙略說 (DZ1241/TT990); and Du Guangting’s 杜光庭 Daode Zhenjing Guangshengyi 道德真經廣聖義 (DZ725/TT440-448). See Ninji Ofuchi 1991: 248. 7  I have chosen to cite lines from the Xiang’er commentary rather than pages in Bokenkamp’s translation. This procedure of documentation is not as clear in some places as others. Bokenkamp follows Ofuchi’s reproduction of the photographic copy of Stein 6825, which counted off the lines by fives. So, he only notes in the margins every fifth line of Chinese text and even then, the line numbers of his translation do not match precisely those of the Chinese text. But the reader may still locate the reference easily enough based on the line numbers I provide.

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The lord of the people, desiring to cherish the masses so as to cause their longevity and to regulate the kingdom so as to bring about Great Peace, should earnestly plumb the intentions of Dao. In reaching the masses, he should cause them to know the perfection of Dao and not allow them to know of false ways or deviant doctrines.

人君欲愛民令壽考, 治國令太平, 當精心鑿道意, 教民皆令知道真, 無令知僞道耶 知也 (lines 118–119).

The author’s objective is to set out the mysterious knowledge of the Laozi necessary for the leaders of the community to perform their tasks. This goal also explains why the Xiang’er commentary is not, in any strict sense, interested in trying to perform as we might think a commentary should. It does not seek to recover the original intent of the authors (compilers) of the Laozi, the historical context for its logia, or even the way in which a text complements Daoist themes and emphases already known in the second century CE. Its Xuanxue approach is what gives the reader the sense that the commentary often totally misses what appears to be the obvious meaning of the Laozi text, and even accounts for the actual alteration of the clear meaning of the text in some places (see line 321).8 Is this quest for the mysterious meaning of the Laozi one reason why the record of Zhang Ling’s experience at Mount Heming 鹤鸣山 was preserved in the Celestial Masters communities? The record of his experience says that the “one correct covenant and way” (zhengyi mengwei 正一盟威) was delivered to him by Laozi himself. Remembering this might thereby serve as a validation of Zhang Ling’s authority, overcoming objections to any interpretations recorded in a text such as that by Xiang’er. Even if the authorship of the text belongs rather to Zhang Lu than Zhang Ling, it may still trade on the originating revelation, since Zhang Lu was believed to have received the orthodox transmission of this covenant from his grandfather, Zhang Ling. Like other writers associated with the Xuanxue objective of bringing forward the hidden teachings of important classical texts, the author of the Xiang’er commentary had lost faith in the officials and political processes of the late Han, but not in the project of restoring “the true Dao” or what was known among the Celestial Masters as the “one correct covenant and way.” Whatever it was that Zhang Ling was teaching when he came to the Sichuan mountains some time before 142 CE, the correctness of the content was confirmed to him in his Mount Heming experience. To reconstruct what he was teaching, we have, of course, later Celestial Master texts, but in the Xiang’er text we have perhaps the work representing what Bokenkamp (1997: 29) considers the earliest introduction to Celestial Master beliefs and practices, or what I call the best representation of the “one correct covenant and way.”

8  For an analysis of some of the ways the Xiang’er commentary radically reinterprets the Laozi consult Boltz 1982 and Ren 1990: 37–41.

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2  The Xiang’er Commentary in Celestial Masters Tradition In order to approach an understanding of the content of the Xiang’er commentary and its significance in the history of Daoism, let’s begin first by reminding ourselves of a few details about the originating revelation that defined the Celestial Maters communities, beginning with its founder and one of the putative authors/sources for the commentary itself: Zhang Ling. A survey of our pre-Tang sovurces of Zhang Ling’s experience and its circumstances is shown in the following table.9 Date (CE) 220–231

255

260–280

317

c. 420

Early fifth century

Source and Content The Yangping Zhi 陽平治 is attributed to a revelation from Zhang Ling through a medium and in which he describes receiving the Dao and gives the specific date as 142. The Yangping Zhi was the most prominent of the Celestial Master administrative centers. It was led by Zhang Ling himself and located at Mount Heming (Kleeman 2016: 113). The Commands and Precepts of the Great Family of Dao confirms the same date for the revelation as in Yangping Zhi, gives the location as Redstone Wall at Quting of Lin’ang county, Sichuan (i.e., Shu 蜀), and says the Dao gave the “one correct covenant and way” to Zhang Ling. Lin’ang was a Han name for modern Dayi county, where Mount Heming is located and it is likely that Redstone Wall is another name for the rock face of the mountain in which the cave where Zhang Ling had his experience is located (Kleeman 2016: 69). The Record of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguo Zhi 三國志) compiled by Chen Shou (239?-297?) relies on records from historians during the late Han. In his biography of Zhang Lu contained in the section on the Wei state, Chen says that Zhang Ling came to Sichuan, studying the Dao at Mount Heming. There he “fabricated Daoist books” (zaozuo daoshu 造作道書) and used them to beguile the commoners and build a community, asking the members to contribute five pecks of rice to the common storehouse (Sanguo Zhi, “Weishu”). Ge Hong’s 葛洪 hagiography of Zhang Ling in Traditions of Divine Transcendents (Shenxian zhuan 神仙傳), which is discussed in detail below, is the most famous account of the revelation (see Campany 2002: 349-356). The Scripture of the Inner Explanation of the Three Heavens (Santian Neijiejing 三 天内解經) follows the same date for the revelation as in those texts mentioned above and places its location in a “stone chamber” on Quting mountain in Sichuan. The text says that there Lord Lao (Laojun 老君) appeared to Zhang Ling and led him to the presence of the Most High (太上) on Mount Kunlun where Zhang received the “one correct covenant and way” (Bokenkamp 1997: 215). The Code of the Great Perfected (Taizhenke 太真科) sets the same date for the revelation as other sources, locates it at Mount Heming and affirms that Zhang Ling received the “one correct covenant and way.” This text mentions that Zhang also received from Supreme Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun 太上老君) a total of 1,000 scrolls, talismans and charts to be used for teaching those not yet perfected, and twenty-one (not twenty-four as in Ge Hong) to be used with those already perfected.a

For a study of this text and suggestions about its content, see Ofuchi 1997: 409–505. The attribution of this extensive body of scriptures to the originating revelation given to Zhang Ling may represent an effort to give authority to a number of texts associated with later Daoist lineages.

a 

9  Liu Ts’un-yan’s extensive study (2006) provides a thorough survey of the varied and often contradictory sources on the ancestral master’s life. H.M. Seiwert (2003) provides an account of the discrepancies between accounts of the Celestial Masters movement in early historical materials. See also Amato 2016: 82–108.

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Because Ge Hong’s (284–364 CE) record of Zhang Ling is the most detailed and extensive, we may highlight several of its points, especially those which are most relevant to our discussion of the place held by the Xiang’er text in the Celestial Masters movement. Ge Hong tells us that Zhang Ling was a student in the Imperial Academy, where he became well versed in the Five Classics. However, after his education, he concluded, “none of this is of any benefit to one’s years or allotted life span.” So he studied the way of longevity, obtaining the Yellow Thearch’s Method of the Elixirs of the Nine Tripods.10 While he wished to synthesize materials named in the text into elixirs, his family was simple and poor and lacked the resources to acquire them. But having heard that many of the people of Sichuan were pure and generous, easy to teach and lead, and that, moreover, the countryside was full of noted mountains, he moved there along with his disciples. He took up residence on Mount Heming where he composed a work on Dao in twenty-four sections. Then, once when he concentrated his thoughts and refined his will, a celestial personage suddenly descended, along with a train of one thousand carriages with feathered canopies, dragons and tigers in the harnesses—so many they could not be counted along with ten thousand cavalrymen. One in the party announced himself as the archivist (i.e., Laozi) and bestowed on Zhang Ling the newly promulgated “one correct covenant and way.” Once Zhang had received this, he began to cure illnesses and the common people flocked to him, hailing and serving him as their master. His disciples numbered several myriad households. Ge Hong goes on to tell how Zhang Ling established the office of libationer to lead various households through administrative centers. He arranged for rice, fabric, tools, utensils, paper, brushes, lumber, firewood, and other supplies to be distributed as needed. He directed some people to repair roads and bridges. Since he wanted to rule the people by means of honesty and shame, he avoided using punishments. When he had set up the administrative centers, anytime people in any sector became ill, he had them compose an account of all the infractions they had committed; then, having signed this document, they were to cast it into a body of water, thereby establishing a covenant with the spirits that they would not violate the regulations again, pledging their own deaths as surety. Thus, the people reformed themselves out of awe for heaven and earth; and, from this time forward, anyone who did commit infractions corrected himself to become a good person. According to Ge Hong, on account of all this, Zhang Ling gained enough money to buy the necessary ingredients for synthesizing the elixirs of longevity. As for his healing and elixir methods, Ge says that Zhang used standard approaches and made no significant changes or developments. Finally, at the appropriate time, Zhang Ling and two of his trusted disciples “rose up into the heavens in broad daylight” and so departed. A crowd of disciples watched them from below as they gradually vanished into the clouds.11 Understanding these early details about Zhang Ling sets the context for the place of the Xiang’er commentary in the Celestial Master tradition. If we ask what was Zhang’s background before becoming the first Celestial Master, Ge Hong tells  The Scripture on the Elixirs of the Nine Tripods is preserved in the first chapter of HY 884. See Predagio (1991), “Nine Elixirs,” 582–606. 11  I have made very close paraphrasing and some direct quoting of Robert Campany’s translation of Zhang Ling’s hagiography in Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents (2002: 349–356). 10

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us that he was well educated in the Five Classics, even attending the Imperial Academy. This background is not mentioned in the other pre-Tang sources about Zhang Ling and his revelation. In fact, it is often discounted as improbable and even Campany’s translation marks it as not in the earliest attested versions of Ge Hong’s hagiography. However, Zhang Ling may have been acting as other Confucian trained literati before him who became disenchanted with established bureaucracies and retired to the mountains either permanently or temporarily.12 Ge Hong’s remark that Zhang Ling was attracted by the tradition that the people of Sichuan were open to being led reveals a fact that would have appealed to an aspiring Confucian trained leader, especially since this region was comparatively remote and far removed from the intense conflicts of the declining Han court. After all, as Ge says, it was in the far-off Sichuan mountains. But let’s just keep this point about the Confucian training of Zhang Ling in mind for later. For now, we may say about the Xiang’er commentary’s views of Confucianism that it is not overly critical, certainly not as directly hostile as what we find in Zhuangzi or even in various Laozi passages (see Littlejohn 2010: 32–36). My own view, as I shall support later, is that the Xiang’er is much more than not hostile, it is actually quite supportive of Confucian virtues and even considers Confucius himself as a sage who has been taught all he knows by the Dao (line 320). If we ask why Zhang Ling left his career as a Confucian educated intellectual of some success (having attended the imperial academy?), Ge Hong supplies an answer, or actually, I suggest, two answers. First, he says that Zhang felt that the Confucian way was not enabling his quest for longevity and he wished to pursue a path that would do so. Ge tells us that Zhang acquired an important alchemical text, but simply could not afford the ingredients needed in order to make the elixirs. Now, actually quite unlike the comments about Zhang’s Confucian background, almost all of this first answer that Ge Hong gives for Zhang’s motivations seems to me to lack credibility. I say “almost all” because I do think that Ge’s testimony to Zhang Ling’s pursuit of longevity is likely accurate. What is questionable is his association of this quest with the making of elixirs (waidan 外丹). In Traditions of Divine Transcendents, Ge Hong often makes various transcendents into practitioners of elixir alchemy, perhaps because, according to his autobiographical work, The Master Who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi 抱朴子), he is convinced that whatever one might do for health, actual longevity is not possible without alchemical elixir (Campany 2002: 355). However, if Zhang Ling is the author of the Xiang’er commentary, or even if his teachings are the inspiration of his grandson’s writing of the text, there is no hint at longevity through elixir in this work, although the text is definitely concerned with health, cure of illness, and longevity. If we are right that Xiang’er’s commentary reflects the teachings that made up something like Zhang Ling’s “one correct covenant and way,” then we should not ignore the fact that the text has no concern at all with elixirs. Zhang Ling was pursuing a way leading to longevity, but it almost certainly had nothing to do with external alchemy.

12

 See Aat Vervoorn 1990.

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The second answer that Ge Hong gives us for what was motivating Zhang Ling to go into Sichuan is that the area was full of genuine hearted people who could be led. The Sichuan mountains were far away from the turbulence of the declining Han and also offered places of spiritual retreat and reflection. These conditions would have appealed to a Confucian trained thinker who wanted to establish communities of Great Peace separate from the troubled Han, but equally important would have been the susceptibility of the people to educated leadership. Accordingly, although those who wish to take Ge Hong’s claim about Zhang’s family being poor as a reason to reject the earlier claim that Zhang was trained as a Confucian, since such a track would normally require some wealth, I suggest just the opposite may be true. Ge’s association of Zhang with Confucian training likely preserves an accurate tradition and it is his references to Zhang’s poverty and interest in elixirs that should be rejected.13 My own view is that Zhang’s Confucian background provides one piece of the puzzle why he moved to Sichuan. He was looking for a people to lead in the “one correct covenant and way” that would create a kingdom of Great Peace (taiping 太平). Although Ge Hong says Zhang Ling obtained, and brought with him to Mount Heming, the Yellow Thearch’s Method of the Elixirs of the Nine Tripods, I consider this reference to be Ge’s insertion of his own interests into the hagiography. The more probable truth is that Zhang Ling brought the Laozi with him to Sichuan and that he was already using it as a source for his Xuanxue thought. There are two arguments I offer in support of this claim. First, there is simply no evidence of elixir practice at Mount Heming or later at Mount Qingcheng 青城山 where the oldest records suggest that the larger community of disciples and libationer training took place at what is now called Celestial Master’s Cave (Tianshi Dong 天師洞). This hardly seems likely if Zhang brought an elixir text with him to the mountains. Second, none of our extant earliest Celestial Masters sources mention any elixir practice, although several of them, the Xiang’er commentary being the most prominent of all, do show a concern with longevity and health. But longevity is not pursued in the Xiang’er text by elixir making nor even by dietetic practices, but by morality. Living by the precepts of the Dao is the key that unlocks longevity and this is as much an onto-cosmological statement as it is a moral one. Illness is cured by

 Of course, we cannot simply ignore the traditions that Zhang Ling was a master of elixir alchemy that tied him to Mount Dragon Tiger (Longhu Shan 龍虎山) in Jiangxi province. But Paul Amato has conclusively demonstrated that these traditions, including the fourteenth century work, Hereditary Household of the Han Celestial Master (Han Tianshi Shijia 漢天師世家), cannot be traced prior to the Tang. Moreover, the resulting Tang and post-Tang accounts show the sorts of embellishments one might expect about a famous figure. For example, what his family background was; what marvelous events accompanied his birth and life; what official positions he held before going to Mount Heming (e.g., magistrate in Jiang and governor of Chongqing); and how he came to Mount Dragon Tiger, where he practiced alchemy and became young. As opposed to most early sources, in which the deified Laozi makes a single descent to earth in order to establish a covenant with the ancestral master, he makes a grand total of five appearances to Zhang Daoling in the Hereditary Household of the Han Celestial Master. For an excellent overview of these sources and their dating, see Amato 2016: 82–108.

13

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confession and ritualized in talismans, but always connected to one’s morality. Sickness is prevented by following the moral rules of Dao and thereby retaining its qi inside the body. Demon spirits were enemies that entered one’s body because of immoral action. They could wreak havoc with one’s organs. In the Xiang’er commentary, the moral person had no worries, because there was no point of entry for any demon and the qi of Dao empowered his body. Actually, all this seems to be a rather novel approach to the connection between morality and health.14 Accordingly, when Zhang Ling had his experience on Mount Heming, we may think of this as not so much a direct revelation of some set of doctrines, but as a confirmation that his new interpretations of the hidden teachings of the Laozi were being validated as the “one correct covenant and way.” The implications of all this stage setting about Zhang Ling for understanding the Xiang’er commentary are significant. One, we may consider it an effort to unlock the profound meaning of the Laozi. The text represents such a different reading of the Laozi that, even in its own day, required the record of a divine revelation to validate it and the authority of the person(s) offering it. Two, the Xiang’er is not meant to be a commentary in the sense of trying to explicate the direct meaning of the text, much less to do anything like an historical-critical reading. It is the profound or mysterious meaning of the text that the author is trying to convey to leaders of the community. Three, the Xiang’er is in the most important sense a longevity treatise, not a political, ritual, or administrative one.15 Its remarks about morality are integral to healing and long life, and the implications of its teachings for social structure and Great Peace are results of its call for persons to follow the longevityproducing precepts of the Dao and undergo bio-spiritual transformation. If we go beyond the political and ritual structures of the Celestial Masters community revealed in its later texts, and turn our focus on something other than the historical context of the emergence of the theocracy and its eventual demise, we may ask what it was that Zhang Ling and his immediate successors (Zhang Heng and Zhang Lu) were teaching that convinced large numbers of people to believe that his program was validated by the divine Laozi (Taishang Laojun 太上老君). In order to gain much traction on this inquiry, we have at present one major source document and that is the Xiang’er commentary. Even the quite early Commands and Precepts says bluntly that the “one correct covenant and way” was promulgated by Dao in its “thinking of you” (xiang’er) (Bokenkamp 1997: 172).

14  The Huainanzi 淮南子 may already show some connections between morality and health, especially in Chapter Seven. See Major et al. 2010. 15  In fact, the Xiang’er commentary specifically separates its way of longevity from the way of ritual, condemning explicitly the making of offerings and sacrifices (lines 374–375). Bokenkamp 1997: 119.

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3  M  orality, Healing, and Longevity in the Xiang’er Commentary Ge Hong reports what other sources also confirm, even those dating to the Tang and afterward, that after Zhang Ling had his experience on Mount Heming, he began to cure illnesses and so the common people flocked to him, hailing and serving him as their master. This framing of Zhang’s work suggests that he may be more closely connected to the Xiang’er commentary than Zhang Lu. The Xiang’er text is a practical homily for pursuing health and longevity, teaching that the way to long life lies in following the precepts of Dao. As the text says: Keeping the precepts of Dao, we amass good deeds, which accrue merit and assemble our essences to form spirits. Once the spirits are formed, we enjoy the longevity of the transcendents. In this way we find our bodies reassured.

奉道誡, 積善成功, 積精成神, 神成仙壽, 以此爲身寳矣 (lines 162–163).

And later: The sage, patterning himself on Dao, thinks only of accumulating good deeds in order to achieve physical longevity.

聖人灋道, 但念積行, 令身長生 (line 351).

Followed by: The crux for seeking transcendent longevity and heaven’s blessing resides in keeping faith with Dao. One should keep the precepts in good faith and refrain from committing transgressions or contrary acts, for sins will be tallied up among the celestial officers. When the tallies of the left are depleted, you will not be granted any more chances.

欲求仙壽天福, 要在信道, 守誡守信, 不爲貳過。罪成結在天曹, 右契無到而窮, 不復在餘也 (lines 372–373).

The close tie between morality and longevity in the Xiang’er commentary raises two issues. First, we may wonder why it is that a Daoist treatise relies on a set of moral precepts, when the Laozi seems clearly to consider moral concepts and rules to be human inventions which actually represent a move away from Dao into discriminations in language and practice that create inward disharmony and social conflict, even war. Second, a question that presses itself on us is just how it is that following the precepts of Dao makes possible long life and even bio-spiritual transformation into what the text calls transcendents. Let’s take these issues in order. Why does the Xiang’er commentary insist that the following of Dao’s moral precepts is the way to longevity and transformation when the Laozi often offers very direct criticisms of morality? The Laozi’s objections to morality are serious ones and they are not limited to any specific historical morality, but to the institution and practice of morality itself, allowing the interpretation that the text recommends a kind of amorality.16  A coherent interpretation of the Laozi as a treatise recommending something closely akin to amorality is Moeller (2009).

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In place of following the precepts of any moral system, Laozi recommends that adepts practice an openness to Dao by emptying themselves of human discriminations (including moral ones) and making themselves like a valley, a bowl, a door, a window. They should become like the “feminine” in their receptivity, allowing Dao to enter and move them effortlessly (wuwei無爲). Instead of developing refinement as defined conventionally in human morality, the perfected person (zhenren 真人) should be like uncarved wood in his simplicity and naturalness, moving with Dao. If this reading of the Laozi’s critical view of morality as a form of life is accurate, how then does the Xiang’er commentary defend its turn to morality as a way to health, longevity and transformation? As we begin to tease out this quandary, we may notice that actually many of the most strident objections to morality in the Laozi are not part of the Xiang’er commentary. The Xiang’er text, for unknown reasons, is limited to chapters 3–37 of the Laozi, or basically what is often known as the Daojing (道經); whereas, chapters 38–81 (Dejing德經) contain many of the text’s strongest criticisms of the institution of morality. Consider, for example, the following: When the great Dao was abandoned, there arose human virtue; when human virtue was lost, there was humaneness; when humaneness was lost; appropriateness arose. When appropriateness was lost, there arose rules and laws, the rules and laws are the beginning of chaos and disorder.

故失道而後德, 失德而後仁, 失仁而後義, 失義而後禮。夫禮者, 忠信之薄, 而亂之 首 (Laozi, chapter 38).

And: The more taboos and prohibitions there are in the world, the poorer the people will be … The more laws and edicts are multiplied, the more thieves and robbers there will be. And so the masters say: “I act effortlessly and the people transform themselves; I prefer stillness and the people correct and regulate themselves; I engage in no activity and the people prosper on their own; I am without desires and the people simplify their own lives.”

天下多忌諱, 而民彌貧 ⋯⋯ 法令滋彰, 盜賊多有。故聖人云: 我無為, 而民自化; 我好靜, 而民自正; 我無事, 而民自富; 我無欲, 而民自樸 (Laozi, chapter 57).

We might think that the author of the Xiang’er commentary focuses only on the first part of the Laozi because the second division is too negative about morality but this really cannot be correct. There are Xiang’er interpretations of several passages in chapters 3–37 of the Laozi that likewise seem to reject morality. How the Xiang’er author handles these reveals his strategy for how to connect morality and Daoism, as mediated through the Laozi. We must remember that the author of this text is reaching beyond and behind the actual words of the Laozi to mine out the hidden, dark or mysterious meaning of its teachings. When interpreting Laozi passages typically taken as critical of morality, the author reveals their hidden meaning. Consider the following interpretation: Eliminate sageliness, abandon wisdom, and the people will benefit one-hundred-fold. Discard humaneness, abandon appropriateness, and the people will return to being filial and kind. Cut-off cleverness, abandon profit, and robbers and thieves will be no more. This

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might leave the people lacking in culture. So, give them something with which to identify: manifest plainness, embrace simplicity.

絕聖棄智, 民利百倍; 絕仁棄義, 民復孝慈; 絕巧棄利, 盜賊無有。此三者以為文不 足。 故令有所屬:見素抱樸, 少私寡欲 (Laozi, chapter 19).

The Xiang’er’s comment on this passage does not teach that the intention of the Laozi is to criticize morality. Instead, the author says that there is no need to enforce humaneness, filiality and kindness, because “people will become humane and responsible once their moral transformation is valued and the mind of Dao is fully open to all 所以者, 尊大其化, 廣聞道心, 人爲仁義” (line 279). The mysterious meaning of Laozi’s text is that there is no need for government and rulers to use reward and punishment to enforce morality when the people open themselves up to Dao. Instead of a criticism of morality as a form of life, or of the Confucian virtues of humaneness and appropriateness specifically, the meaning of the text is presented as teaching that these desirable moral virtues arise whenever persons follow Dao. Morality does not get in the way of knowing Dao, but is actually the evidence that one is walking with Dao. Although the common sense of the ordinary person is that only reward and punishment will lead to humaneness and filiality, actually the ruler (libationer) knows that “after a long time they [the people] will come to understand and will join with Dao 久久自解, 與道合矣” (line 286). The Laozi insists that the ancient masters were subtle and profound, like uncarved wood (chapter 15). This observation seems directly to teach that the perfected person (zhenren) is empty of any thought of moral discriminations. However, the Xiang’er author does not take this statement to mean that the ancient masters were empty of moral distinctions. He says, “striving to keep faith with the perfection of Dao, one should discard all deviant knowledge and maintain one’s original simplicity 勉信道眞, 棄耶知, 守本樸” (line 195). Simplicity here does not mean amorality, but rejection of deviant teachings to hold trust in Dao alone. The masters of old were able to maintain their simplicity by not being distracted by erroneous teachings and writings. When supporting the position that the Laozi teaches the adept to become empty of moral distinctions in order to be moved by Dao alone, one of the most frequently cited passages is this one from chapter 18: When the great Dao was discarded, humaneness and responsibility came into being. When wisdom emerged, falseness came into being. When the six sorts of relationship became inharmonious, filiality and benevolence came into being.

大道廢, 有仁義; 智慧出, 有大偽; 六親不和, 有孝慈 (lines 242–243).

A frequent way of reading this, perhaps the surface or direct way, is that the human distinctions of humaneness and filiality are only invented by humans after they have turned away from Dao. The idea seems to be that in the ancient days when persons moved in wuwei 無為, following Dao, there was no need for such distinctions and there was no such thing as humaneness and filiality. These moral “realities” were inventions of humans. But the Xiang’er author sees all this differently, spying out its mysterious meaning in this comment on the Laozi passage:

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In high antiquity, when Dao was employed, all people were humane and responsible. All were of the same type so that benevolent and dutiful were not distinguished from others. Today Dao is not employed and people are all flawed. When occasionally there is a single person who is dutiful, that person is praised by all in contradistinction to others. This is why it says, “humaneness and responsibility came into being.”

上古道用時, 以人爲名, 皆行仁義, 同相像類, 仁義不別。今道不用, 人悉弊薄, 時 有一人行義, 便共表別之, 故言有也 (lines 245–247).

The author’s view is that when Dao was employed in the past, everyone was benevolent and responsible, so there was no need for such concepts. They came into being only when persons ceased following Dao and were no longer responsible or humane. In fact, the Xiang’er commentary uses Laozi chapter 18 as a way to set up a series of contrasts between the days in which everyone followed Dao and the present day of the commentary’s writing: When the true Dao is hidden away (in the present) deviant writings emerge.

眞道藏, 耶文出 (line 248). When Dao was employed, every family was filial and benevolent. All people were of the same type, so the benevolent and filial were not singled out. Today Dao is not employed. People are not benevolent and filial, so the six relations are inharmonious. When occasionally there is a single person who is benevolent or filial, that person is praised by all in contradistinction to others. This is why it (the Laozi) says, “filiality and benevolence came into being.”

道用時, 家家慈孝, 皆同相類, 慈孝不別。今道不用, 人不慈孝, 六親不和。時有一 人行慈孝, 便共表別之, 故言有也 (lines 250–253). When Dao was employed, the Thearchs and princes personally revered and practiced it.

道用時, 帝王躬奉行之, 練明其意以臣庻 (line 253). Today Dao is not employed. The ministers all study deviant writings and practice argumentation and deception to follow the whims of the ruler. Though their faces and their words are pleasing, within they harbor evil.

今道不用, 臣皆學耶文, 習權詐, 隨心情, 面言善, 內懷惡, 時有一人行忠誠 (lines 256). When Dao was employed, ministers were loyal and children filial so that the kingdom was easily ruled.

道用時, 臣忠子孝, 國則易治 (line 258). Today though ministers and children might be loyal or filial, they all do it in order to barter their acts with the lords and fathers for merit and fame.

今之臣子, 雖忠孝, 皆欲以買君父, 求功名 (line 262). The people of today are without accomplishment. They master the scriptures and the arts and, without having understood the truth of Dao, proclaim themselves sages. As they ­measure themselves only against chapter and verse, this “sagehood” has no basis. Such as these are not able to receive the words of Dao.

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今人無狀, 載通經藝, 未貫道眞, 便自稱聖. 不因本而章篇自揆, 不能得道 (lines 268–269). They pursue only deviant learning, lining up outside the doors of deviant masters. They exhaust all their energies chanting flawed teachings, even to the end of their days. Finding that they are unable to move heaven through sincere practice of loyalty and filiality; though they attempt to regulate their bodies, they are unable to reach the longevity of transcendents and that although they try to aid their lord, they are unable to bring about Great Peace.

但逐耶學, 傾側師門, 盡氣誦病, 到於窮年。會不能忠孝至誠感天, 民治身不能仙 壽, 佐君不能致太平 (lines 275–277).

In all of these cases, the Xiang’er author thinks that when persons move with Dao, they act virtuously. They are genuinely humane, filial and responsible. But he regrets that in his own day persons practice only a sham of the true Dao’s morality, following their own whims and seeking only fame and recognition. There is another explanation for the differences between the Xiang’er commentary’s emphasis on morality and the typical reading of the Laozi as critical of the institution and practice of moral discrimination. If it is true, as I believe likely, that Zhang Ling is the most probable author of some original version of the Xiang’er text, we might take seriously what Ge Hong says about his background as a Confuciantrained literati.17 Zhang Ling may have abandoned a political career in the late Han, but not the project of restoring Dao or establishing a Great Peace kingdom. Bokenkamp thinks that the Xiang’er commentary is rather anti-Confucian. He says, “the Xiang’er defends its own tenets against those of Confucianism” (Bokenkamp 1997: 29). He also holds that it uniformly criticizes core Confucian concepts (Bokenkamp 1997: 73). But actually, in the text, I do not see any serious critique of Confucius or the Confucian virtues. Confucius himself is still a sage. Bokenkamp even calls our attention to the fact that the author of Xiang’er text glosses the Laozi intentionally. When Laozi says, “孔德之容, 唯道是從” the comment “孔德之容” means “great virtue’s appearance,” but the Xiang’er commentary reads the text to say, “the all-encompassing nature of Confucius’s virtue (孔德) came precisely from his following Dao” (line 320). The author understands kong ( 孔) to refer to Confucius’s surname, not to mean “great” or “superlative,” which seems to be the clear use of this character in the received Laozi. It hardly seems reasonable to think the commentator holds Confucius in low esteem when he so closely identifies the sage with one who has been taught everything he knows by Dao. The commentator also writes: Dao is greater than all else. It taught Confucius all that he knew. Those of later generations have not kept faith with the writings of Dao, but merely revere Confucius’s writings, considering them the highest. This is why Dao clarifies the situation to inform later worthies.

17  Even the later hagiographies of Zhang Daoling which are concerned to tie him to Mount Dragon Tiger and elixir alchemy continue to emphasize his Confucian literati training. Some of them report that he held official magistrate positions, including governorship of Chongqing (Amato 2016: 363, f. 15).

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道甚大, 教孔丘爲知。後世不信道文, 但上孔書, 以爲無上, 道故明之, 吿後賢 (line 320).

Although this interpretation in the Xiang’er commentary may be taken to mean that the author objects to an overly zealous devotion to Confucius and his writings, it still valorizes Confucius’s knowledge and traces it to his grasp of Dao’s teachings. Everything he knew came from Dao. If I am on the right track, then we might expect just what we actually find. There is an effort to associate Confucian virtues with following Dao derived from either Zhang Ling’s own association with Confucianism, or what he might have transmitted to son (Zhang Heng) and grandson (Zhang Lu) as Celestial Masters in the community. Such a reading helps us understand in part why the Xiang’er commentary sees no discontinuity between being taught by Dao and practicing morality, even virtues that are directly associated with Confucius. Contrary to the Zhuangzi and the surface meaning of the Laozi, the commentary does not object to the use of Confucian moral virtues such as benevolence and responsibility (appropriateness). For the author, they derive from Dao and the text only laments that these virtues are not actualized in his present age by people who are following Dao. In the Xiang’er commentary, significant Confucian moral virtues such as humaneness and filiality are not rejected as the causes of our tangled lives and communal chaos which we must be emptied out of from our minds. They are embraced and approved of, so that in following Dao in the time of antiquity all people exhibited these virtues. The author does not want to abandon them. He only regrets that they are rarely authentically realized in his own day. We may now return to the second major issue raised by the advocacy of following moral precepts as a way to health and longevity in the Xiang’er text. How is it exactly that following the precepts of Dao makes possible long life and even bio-­ spiritual transformation into what the text calls transcendents? The author of Xiang’er commentary offers an explanation for the connection between morality, health and longevity. Relying on the physics of the five agents (wuxing 五行) of qi 氣, he teaches that immoral action throws these out of balance inside our bodies. They attack each other and the ascendant phase of qi overrides the others, resulting in illness, disease and death. You should strive to be slow to anger, for death and injury result from these violent urges. If the five viscera are injured by anger, Dao is not able to govern. This is why Dao has issued such heavy injunctions against anger and why Dao teaches about it so diligently: The five viscera are injured when the five qi [that fill them] of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth are rendered inharmonious. When these are harmonious, they give birth to one another; when they clash, they attack one another. When you give vent to anger or follow your emotions, one of these qi will always issue forth. It issues from one of the viscera and then attacks the others. The victorious qi will then form an illness and kill you.

積死遲怒, 傷死以疾, 五藏以傷, 道不能治, 故道誡之重, 教之丁寧。五藏所以傷 者, 皆金木水火土氣不和也。和則相生, 戰則相克, 隨怒事情, 輒有所發。發一藏 則故克所勝, 成病煞人 (lines 21–25).

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When an imbalance of the five agents (five qi in this passage) is caused by immoral action, Dao is pushed out and the body is closed off, preventing its return, resulting ultimately in death. In fact, when the five agents begin to battle each other the person dies even before the count of his transgressions is fulfilled (lines 512–513). The text says, “one should harmonize the five agents” (line 326). Whereas, “if one follows the wild promptings of the heart, Dao will leave for good 心亂遂之, 道去之 矣” (line 3). Debilitation and death will soon follow. “If the people do not hold in awe the precepts of Dao in all things and miss the intentions of Dao, Dao will depart from them. It is automatically so 人擧事不懼畏道誡。失道意, 道卽去之, 自然如 此” (lines 367–368). These remarks are not so much sweeping statements about ontology as they are comments about the impact of immoral action on one’s health and longevity. They are not merely warnings about the dangers of anger and violence to society. The commentator is pointing to the internal bio-spiritual wellbeing of the seeker of Dao. The death and injury about which he speaks is not communal war or conflict, but the destruction of the inner person and even the body itself. A way of healing is offered by the Xiang’er commentary and it is found in turning from evil and practicing Dao’s precepts. When one does so, Dao will return to the body. “When people practice Dao and honor the precepts, the subtle qi return to them 人行道奉誡, 微氣歸之” (line 186). The text makes a clear call: “Passion, worry, anger, joy, and evil are all things that Dao does not desire. Your heart should regulate these emotions and finally stop them, causing them to scatter as ice melts under the sun 情欲思慮, 怒熹惡事; 道不所欲, 心欲規之, 便即制止解散, 令如冰 見日散汋” (line 194). Since following the moral way of Dao is so important to one’s longevity, how are Dao’s precepts known? Based on the frequent arguments made against false and deceptive writings in the Xiang’er commentary, we may conclude that the text considers itself to be the “one correct covenant and way.” So, the text is recommending itself as one source of the moral precepts of Dao. Reading and reciting texts such as the Xiang’er commentary is one way to know the precepts of Dao. Bokenkamp identifies twenty-seven precepts occurring in the Xiang’er text. He extracts them from throughout the commentary and provides a list, along with nine precepts derived from the Laozi (Bokenkamp 1997: 49–50).18 Stephen Eskildsen holds that there was a set of thirty-six moral precepts transmitted within early Heavenly Masters communities, nine of them prescriptive and twenty-seven proscriptive. He argues that the precepts show up in several extant sources with the earliest of these (dating perhaps as early as the third century) showing up in the Canonical Rules of the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun Jinglü 太上老君經 律, Daozang: 786). In this text, the precepts are enumerated under the heading “Xiang’er Precepts of the Venerable Scripture of Dao and the Virtue” (Daode Zunjing Xiang’er Jie 道德尊經想爾戒). Eskildsen observes:

 See Bokenkamp 1997: 76, f. 89 for an overview of the identification of the Xiang’er commentary’s precepts.

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The prescriptive precepts (9 of them) are drawn from the Daodejing main text, and include things such as “practice nonaction 行無爲,” “practice clarity and calmness 行清靜,” and “practice nondesire 行無欲.” The proscriptive items (27 of them) are drawn from the Laozi Xiang’er commentary, and admonish against a wide range of things including meat-eating, killing, coveting, seeking fame, and wastefully expending essence and qi (Eskildsen 2015: 313, f 34).

It may be right that there are thirty-six precepts for following Dao, or as often expressed, for holding on Dao, but perhaps more important than lists of this sort is the method of knowing how to follow Dao recommended in the Xiang’er commentary. The text reveals a kind of practice as essential to the moral life, both to the epistemology of morals and the way to assuage moral error and wrong in order to restore harmony, health and longevity. According to the Xiang’er commentary, Dao comes and goes within the human body and those who keep its precepts can maintain unity with it (shouyi 守一) (line 107). Those who do not follow the precepts will find themselves empty of Dao and the result is a life characterized as what Bokenkamp translates as “mobile corpses 尸行.” The bodies of those who do not know Dao of long life are but mobile corpses. It is not Dao that they practice, but merely the way of corpses. The reason the people of Dao are able to achieve the longevity of transcendents is that they do not practice the way of the corpses.

不知長生之道。身皆尸行耳, 非道所行, 悉尸行也。道人所以得仙壽者, 不行尸 行 (lines 73–74).

The commentator offers this reading of Laozi chapter 15’s description of how the ancient transcendent masters obtained knowledge of the precepts of Dao: They were complete and uniform, like muddy water. Muddy water will gradually clarify through stillness. When those who seek long life are given something, they do not decline it; when something is taken from them, they have no rancor. They do not follow the common run of people in their shifts and turns. Instead, their thoughts are perfectly directed toward Dao. While they are learning to be clear and still, their thoughts will temporarily be as if confused and muddy; but since they are confused and muddy, they have maintained simplicity and are about to reach their goal. Finally, in clarity and stillness, they will be able to observe all of the subtleties. Since inside they will be clear and luminous, they will not wish to draw near the common. These essentials of clarity and stillness are the delight of the subtle (qi) of Dao.

肫若濁, 濁以靜之徐淸。求生之人, 與不謝, 奪不恨, 不隨俗轉移。眞思誌道, 學知 淸靜, 意當時如癡濁也。以能癡濁, 樸且欲就矣, 然后淸靜能覩衆微。內自淸明, 不欲於俗, 淸靜大要, 道微所樂 (lines 200–202).

Maintaining stillness as a way of breaking the connection with the tendency to problematize life and think of it as a tangle to be unraveled or knot to the unloosened. “When you use stillness to move, (your actions) will gradually produce life 安以動 之徐生” (line 208). According to the Xiang’er commentary, in stillness, the subject enters another state of consciousness. He becomes clear and luminous in his understanding and will. Stillness is more than the lack of movement, it is entering a state in which persons are able to restore themselves, their health and their moral bearings. “When the qi of Dao thereby returns to the body, it is crucial to maintain this stillness and clarity” (line 219). “Knowing how to treasure the root in clarity and

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stillness is the constant method (the eternal way) of restoring life” (line 220). This is not clarity in language, mental concept, or even feeling, but the clarity of how to move, which is called wuwei, following the precepts of Dao. How is stillness practiced and clarity gained? Commenting on Laozi chapter 20, the author offers the following remark: Undifferentiated as if darkened, in single-mindedness that has nothing on which it fixes. The will of the transcendent nobility is fixed on Dao as if they were contemplating in the darkness. Lying quietly on their beds, they no longer concern themselves with vulgar matters. Their essential concentration fixes on Dao, not on vulgar matters.

忽若晦, 家無所止。仙士意誌道如晦, 思臥安牀, 不復雜俗事也。精思止於道, 不 止於俗事也 (line 315).

This is no mere figurative remark. It is a description of a practice. One enters into the state of stillness in which Dao may return to its root and clarity emerges. Reclining, contemplating in darkness, and fixing one’s concentration on Dao represent what amounts to a description of the way the author and others experienced Dao. These are no less instructions than the commentator’s observation that the Celestial Master has set forth teachings concerning engaging in this practice in the morning and evening (line 205). At this point, we do well to remember our rather lengthy background survey on Zhang Ling and his experience at Mount Heming, which was later followed by similar practices on Mount Qingcheng. It is likely that Zhang Ling was in a cave on Mount Heming, what is now called Tiangu Dong (or some cave similar to it), lying in darkness and in stillness, when Laozi appeared to him and confirmed the “one true covenant and way.” This transformative experience came as a result of Zhang Ling being in a state of quietude, concentrating his qi. We can imagine that as the Celestial Masters movement grew and it became impractical for the new followers with families in the various twenty-four centers to find locations such as caves on mountains, a specific practice arose. The communities created “chambers of quietude” (jingshi 静室) in which individual members could practice stillness and clarity of the sort the author of the Xiang’er commentary is recommending. Such chambers in their homes substituted for actual pilgrimages and treks to the mountains. In fact, these quiet rooms (jingshi or qingshi 清室) were also known as square caves fangliu 方溜. Regarding the chamber of quietude, sources say it should face East, which is also the ideal fengshui of a cave opening. The Xiang’er commentary provides us with the philosophical underpinnings and rationale for this aspect of Celestial Master life.19 All of this puts us in a position to interpret one of the most puzzling remarks of the Xiang’er commentary:

 On the place of the quiet room, see Kleeman 2016: 222–224. In the Lu Xiansheng Daomenke lue 陸先生道門科略 4b3-8, traceable to Lu Xiujing 陸修靜, there is a description of how this space appeared in the fifth century: “For families who worship Dao, the quiet room is the place where one manifests one’s sincerity. Externally, it is separated and removed, not contiguous with other buildings. Inside, it is pure and empty, not defiled with extraneous objects. When opening and closing the gate and door, do not recklessly rush in and out. Mop and sweep it carefully and solemnly, always as if the God is present. Only place there an incense burner, a fragrant lamp, a table for writing memorials, and a writing knife; these four items and no more” (Kleeman 2016: 226).

19

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Grand Darkness (Great Yin) is the palace where those who have accumulated Dao refine their forms. When there is no place for them to stay in the world, the worthy withdraw and, feigning death, pass through Grand Darkness to have their images reborn on the other side. This is to be “obliterated without perishing.” The profane are unable to accumulate good deeds, so when they die it is truly death. They are taken away in service of the Earth Offices.

太陰道積練形之宫也。世有不可處, 賢者避去託死。過太陰中, 而復一邊生像, 沒而不殆也。俗人不能積善行, 死便眞死, 屬地官去也 (lines 229–230).

One way of reading this passage is that the commentator means to be making a remark about transformation beyond death, or more precisely how the transcendents do not die, but feign death and pass through on the other side without perishing, whereas the profane truly die and endure perhaps the service or punishment of the Earth Office. Indeed, the text says: When a Daoist’s practices are complete, the spirits of Dao call that person to return. Departing the world through feigned death, the person passes through Grand Darkness to be born again and not perish. That is longevity. Commoners have no good merits, and when they did, they belong to the Earth Office. That is to perish.

道人行備, 道神歸之, 避世託死, 遇太陰中, 復生去爲不亡, 故壽也。俗人無善功, 死者屬地官, 便爲亡矣 (lines 517–518).

But there is a demythologized reading of these remarks that also recommends itself. If we take this passage as a reference to the place of darkness in which persons enter into stillness in order to refine their forms, such persons do resemble the dead, although they are not actually dead. We know from other Daoist texts that those in such as state were often described as appearing like a withered tree.20 Caves are obvious places of darkness and they were thought of as Yin 陰. Leaving a cave, or the dark place of quietude, after having an experience with Dao, one emerged as a newborn babe. The previous person was “obliterated without perishing.” For the profane, though, their deaths are real deaths and their fate is in the hands of the Earth Office, the part of the spiritual bureaucracy often associated with health and the fortunes of longevity. Our author may be speaking of the divergent outcomes of those who would follow Dao. For those who accumulate Dao and refine their forms they walk with new life, possessing longevity. Those who do not follow the precepts of Dao are already mobile corpses, the walking dead. They are under the control of the Earth Office which records their deeds and administrates the ghosts and spirits that can enter their bodies and make judgments on the length of one’s life. But all of this takes place in the here and now. When persons go against Dao and speak and do evil, heaven subtracts counts of life (line 406), the counts on the “left tally” of their

 See Littlejohn 2018: 553–555. The question, “Are you able to make your body appear as a withered tree and your mind as dead ashes? 形固可使如槁木, 而心固可使如死灰乎” is a Daoist formula for the stillness of an alternative consciousness used in several chapters in the Zhuangzi, i.e., “qiwulun 齊物論,” “zhibeiyou 知北遊,” “gengsangchu 庚桑楚,” “tianzifang 田子方,” and “xuwugui 徐無鬼.” 20

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records mount up and the date of their death is advanced. Those who follow Dao amass counts on the “right tally” and gain longevity (line 328). The commentator says, “Dao is life, and deviance, death. The dead belong to the earth and the living to heaven” (line 295). But this may be read as a statement about the transcendents’ way of moving and living in the present, not as a prediction of a future state. However, “when one’s emotions are unmoved and one’s joy and anger do not issue forth, the five viscera harmonize and are mutually productive. This is to be of one radiance and of one dust with Dao 情性不動, 喜怒不發, 五藏皆和同相 生, 與道同光塵也” (line 27). One who is able to practice Dao by following its precepts will obtain the longevity of a transcendent (line 73).

4  Conclusion The “one true and correct covenant” set forth in the Xiang’er text is not actually a complicated one at all. It should not be muddied with later Celestial Masters writings that the author may have actually considered deviant. Likewise, it should not be read through the lenses of materials from writings of other lineages. Indeed, the commentator makes it very clear that he does not approve of elaborate ontologies such as those that advocate a practice of creating some transcendent embryo by some practices apart from morality. Nor does he think that the body has doors and windows through which Dao enters. He calls all these views false deceptions and the height of delusion (lines 133–136). Clarity and stillness are the goal recommended in this homily for Celestial Masters libationers. Gaining clarity nurtures the root which is Dao. Acting out of clarity ensures Dao of life does not depart (line 208). The return of Dao is both life furthering and energizing. When persons are thus able to practice Dao, their lives are extended and they assist heaven. As the text says, “Dao is able to cause them to endure” (line 226). They became walking transcendents, not mobile corpses. So, just as Ge Hong said, Zhang Ling did come to Mount Heming because he was interested in long life. But his way was not the path of elixir alchemy (waidan 外 丹), but following Dao in the clarity of will and knowledge gained through the practice of stillness and receptivity.

Bibliography Amato, Paul. 2016. Rebirth of a Lineage: The Hereditary Household of the Han Celestial Master and Celestial Masters Daoism at Dragon and Tiger Mountain. Ph.D.  Dissertation, Arizona State University.

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Bokenkamp, Steven. 1997. Early Daoist Scriptures. Berkeley: University of California Press. Boltz, William. 1982. “The Religious and Philosophical Significance of the ‘Xiang-Er’ in Light of the Mawangdui Silk Manuscripts.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 45: 95–117. Campany, Robert. 2002. To Live as Long as Heaven and Earth: A Translation and Study of Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents. Berkeley: University of California Press. Chen, Shou 陳壽. N.d. Records of the Three Kingdoms 三國志. Available online: https://ctext.org/ sanguozhi. Eskildsen, Stephen. 2015. Daoism, Meditation, and the Wonders of Serenity: from the Latter Han Dynasty (25-220) to the Tang Dynasty (618–907). Albany: State University of New York Press. Gu, Baotian 顧寳田. 1997. New Annotations on the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi 新譯老子 想爾注. Taipei: Sanmin Shuju. Kleeman, Terry. 2016. Celestial Masters: History and Ritual in Early Daoist Communities. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Littlejohn, Ronnie. 2018. “Referring and Reporting: The Use of Selfing Language in the Zhuangzi.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 17.4: 547–558. Littlejohn, Ronnie. 2010. “Kongzi in the Zhuangzi.” In Victor Mair, ed., Experimental Essays on the Zhuangzi, 175–194. Dunedin: Three Pines Press. Liu, Ts’un-yan. 2006. “Was Celestial Master Zhang a Historical Figure?” In Benjamin Penny, ed., Daoism in History: Essays in Honor of Liu Ts’un-yan, 189–253. New York: Routledge. Major, John et al. trans. and eds. 2010. The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China. New York: Columbia University Press. Moeller, Hans-Georg. 2009. The Moral Fool: A Case for Amorality. New  York: Columbia University Press. Ofuchi, Ninji. 1978. Tonko Dokyo Mokurokuhen. Tokyo: Sobunsha. Ofuchi, Ninji. 1991. Shoki no Dokyo. Tokyo: Sobunsha. Ofuchi, Ninji. 1997. Dokyo to sono kyoten: Dokyoshi no kenkyu, sono ni. Tokyo: Sobunsha. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 1991. “The Book of the Nine Elixirs and Its Tradition.” In Yamada Keiji and Tanaka Tan, eds., Chugoku kodai kagaku Shiron, 2, 543–639. Kyoto: Kyoto daigaku jinbun kagaku kenkyujo. Ren, Jiyu 任继愈, ed. 1990. History of Daoist Religion in China 中国道教史. Shanghai: Renmin Chubanshe. Rao, Zongyi 饒宗頤. 1991. Examination and Verification of the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi 老子想爾注校證. Shanghai: Guji Chubanshe. Schipper, Kristofer and Franciscus Verellen, eds. 2004. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Seiwert, H.W. 2003. “Popular Sects and the Early Daoist Tradition.” In H.W. Seiwert, ed., Popular Religious Movements and Heterodox Sects in Chinese History, 23–93. Leiden: Brill. Vervoorn, Aat. 1990. Men of the Cliffs and Caves: The Development of the Chinese Eremitic Tradition to the End of the Han Dynasty. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Ronnie Littlejohn is Professor of Philosophy and Director of Asian Studies and Concurrent Professor in the School of Foreign Languages, Zhengzhou University. He is the author of eight books, including: Chinese Philosophy: An Introduction (2016), Confucianism: An Introduction (2011), and Daoism: An Introduction (2010). He is also co-editor with Jeffrey Dippmann of Riding the Wind with Liezi: New Essays on a Daoist Classic (2011), and co-editor with Marthe Chandler of Polishing the Chinese Mirror: Essays in Honor of Henry Rosemont, Jr. (2008). He has published more than 50 scholarly articles and book chapters.

Chapter 8

Wang Chong’s View of Ziran and its Influence on Wang Bi and Guo Xiang Alexus McLeod

1  Introduction Wang Chong’s 王充 (27–100 CE) influence on the pure conversation (qingtan 清 談) movement in the third century CE is well known. His Lunheng 論衡 (Balanced Discourses) was prized and used by Cai Yong 蔡邕 (132–192 CE), Wang Lang 王 朗 (d. 228 CE), and a number of others as aid in their argumentative pursuits, which largely followed the methods devised by Wang. Wang Chong has sometimes even been referred to as the first of the qingtan scholars. In this chapter, I argue that Wang Chong’s view of the connection between nature (xing 性), generation (sheng 生), and their implications for ziran 自然 (spontaneity) influenced Xuanxue views of ziran, particularly those offered by Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) and Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312  CE). Wang used ziran primarily to make sense of causation in the absence of purposive activity. He minimized the role of purposive activity in the determination of outcomes of life based on allotment, in part to make sense of the frequent inconsistencies between effort and outcomes. This led him to a view of ziran as itself a principle of development and activity tied to the nature of a thing. This view is further developed by Wang Bi and Guo Xiang,1 both of whom adopt a view of ziran as the principle of development tied to the nature of a thing. After introducing Wang Chong and his thought, I outline the conceptions of ziran in the work of Wang Bi and Guo Xiang. In the next section, I look back to the  To see how Guo Xiang would reformulate these concepts into those of lone-transformation and intergrowth, see the chapter by Yuet Keung Lo in this Companion. For more on how Wang Bi speaks of generation and spontaneity as the temporal cosmology of non-being and being, see the chapter by Tze-Ki Hon in this Companion. 1

A. McLeod (*) Philosophy and Asian/Asian-American Studies, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_8

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Daodejing 道德經 and Zhuangzi 莊子, texts on which Wang Bi and Guo Xiang respectively commented, to show that the primary conception of ziran and related ideas in these early texts are quite different from those of their Xuanxue commentators. In the third and final section, I examine discussions of ziran and related ideas in Wang Chong’s Lunheng, arguing that it is with him, not Laozi and Zhuangzi, that we first see the unique features of the conception of ziran that would later be developed by Wang Bi and Guo Xiang.

2  Wang Chong’s Life and Work Wang Chong, one of the best-known philosophers of the Eastern Han period, is today primarily known for his wide-reaching criticism of the texts, thinkers, and views in favor during his day. His works are compiled in the Lunheng, which includes all of his known writings—85 essays likely dating from different periods in his long career. Known in his time as well as today as a polymath, Wang’s Lunheng includes reflections on a wide array of topics: scholarly methodology, language, classical texts, knowledge, truth, common beliefs, astronomy, and many others. Wang was born in 27  CE (according to his autobiography) in the village of Shangyu in Guiji 會稽 Commandery (modern day Shaoxing, Zhejiang province). His birth came in the third year of the reign of the first Eastern Han Emperor, Guangwu 光武 (5  BCE–57  CE), who restored the Han dynasty after defeating Wang Mang 王莽 who had seized power from the Western Han and established the short lived Xin 新 (New) dynasty (9–23 CE). The biographical essay of Wang Chong in the History of the Later-Han Dynasty (Hou Hanshu 後漢書) claims that his youth was one of straitened circumstances. He was, however, still able to get an education by reading books while sitting around the stalls of booksellers, and in this way gained an encyclopedic knowledge of history, philosophy, and religion, as evidenced in the Lunheng. Based on the breadth of his knowledge, Wang Chong was one of the great autodidacts of early Chinese history. His self-taught style is evidenced by the uncommon (some might claim awkward) literary style of his writings, which Wang defends in the autobiographical essay contained in Lunheng. Wang rose to the position of Officer of Merit (gong shi 功史) in Guiji, but held this position only briefly, his contrarian spirit no doubt making important enemies for him which led to the demise of his career. This experience further disenchanted Wang with “common morals and beliefs,” and he went into retirement to write a number of works challenging these common views. According to Wang, he was inspired to write “On Government” (Zhengwu 政務) to remedy the perceived inadequacy of the imperial government (likely that of Emperor Ming 漢明帝 but possibly that of Emperor Zhang 漢章帝), reinvigorating those engaged in governing. His “Censures on Common Morals” (Jisu jieyi 譏俗節義) was written in response to a number of “friends” who supported him while he had his position but quickly

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abandoned him once he lost it. Wang briefly held another post as an inspection officer after this period, from which he eventually resigned. Also written during this period was “Macrobiotics” (Yangxing shu 養性書). The work for which Wang Chong is known today (and his only extant work), Lunheng, is likely a compilation of works from this period, composed between 70 and 80 CE, including parts of the above-mentioned texts. In the later part of his life, again reclusive, Wang was requested at the court of Emperor Zhang but declined the invitation on grounds of illness. This (which must have happened before Zhang’s death in 88 CE) is the last account of the events of Wang Chong’s life before his death, around 100 CE. According to Wang, his work aims at what he sees to be the proper pursuit of literary and philosophical work in general, attainment of or discovery of truth or reality (shi 實), and avoidance of falsity (xu 虛). His method for discovery of truth largely consists in appraising the existing teachings and arguments of other philosophers, scholars, and schools, subjecting them to tests he describes as “questioning” (wen 問) and “challenging” (nan 難). One of the central features of true (shi) words, according to Wang, is that they are not flowery or ornate (hua 華), but direct and to the point. Among other things, the term shi connotes the quality of concreteness. Flowery or ornate words, on the other hand, are always to some extent empty. Truth is only captured in simple and efficient language. Thus, anything overly stylized is in some way an exaggeration, whether a major exaggeration (like words expressing the existence of supernatural beings such as ghosts) or a relatively minor one (attributing sagehood to a person who has merely done some good act). The express purpose of Wang’s writing is based in appraisal, as he says in chapter 84 (dui zuo 對作): The Lunheng uses precise language and detailed discussion to reveal and explain the doubts of this generation of common people, to bring to light through debate right and wrong patterns, and to help those who come later clearly see the difference between what is the case and what is not the case.

況《論衡》細說微論,

解釋世俗之疑,

辯照是非之理,

使後進曉見然否之分

(Huang 1990: 1183).

Wang’s work is hard to categorize using the traditional “school” model—he is neither Confucian, Daoist, nor a representative of any other recognizable school. He directs criticism at the views of a wide range of earlier figures—from Confucius 孔 子, Mencius 孟子, and Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒, to Hanfeizi 韓非子 and the Daoists. At the same time, the views he accepts and builds on come from a variety of sources as well. Rather than representatives of a school, he shares more in common with earlier Han syncretist, and later Xuanxue, thinkers who both focus on the appraisal and adoption of elements of a variety of texts and positions across traditions. In addition, a number of the views Wang develops, such as his views on ziran 自然, inborn characteristics (xing 性), allotment (ming 命), and knowledge (zhi 知) influenced the later philosophical tradition in China in ways that are not often recognized. Perhaps the most influential of Wang’s ideas is that of his philosophical method of appraisal and criticism—a method adopted by the later qingtan scholars and closely connected with Xuanxue thought.

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3  Ziran in Wang Bi and Guo Xiang In the Xuanxue thought of the Wei-Jin period, the concept of ziran was employed in a quite different way than it was in earlier Daoist texts such as the Daodejing and Zhuangzi. We find in the work of Wang Bi and Guo Xiang in particular a conception of ziran as causal in nature, rather than as associated solely with the kind of spontaneity and autonomous action we find in earlier texts. In the Zhuangzi, ziran is understood primarily as a characteristic of activity—in particular, the kind of activity resulting from a knowledge of Dao 道 that entails efficacy and ease of activity. It appears in this sense to be linked to the wuwei 無為 (non-action, or non-deliberative action) discussed in parts of the Zhuangzi and more extensively in the Daodejing. Wang Bi, though the earlier of the two thinkers considered in this section, and the one with likely the closest historical connection to Wang Chong, offers a conception of ziran that is implicit in the work of Wang Chong but that is spelled out much more clearly in Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Zhuangzi. While Guo Xiang’s conception of ziran shares much more in common with that of Wang Chong on the surface, the connection between ziran and other central concepts such as xing (nature; inborn characteristics), a central concern of Wang Chong’s, as I show below, is more pronounced in the work of Wang Bi. Wang Bi’s commentary on the Daodejing contains numerous discussions of ziran, with one of the most fruitful for our purposes appearing in chapter 25. The original Daodejing passage, discussing a sequence of ordering involving Dao, reads: Humanity is governed by earth, earth is governed by heaven, heaven is governed by Dao, and Dao is governed by ziran.

人法地, 地法天, 天法道, 道法自然.

The ziran of this passage is very much mysterious and unexplained. Given the discussion of Dao as ineffable and transcendent elsewhere in the Daodejing, this seems to make ziran an even less accessible concept, beyond the ineffable Dao. Wang Bi, in his commentary on the line, draws out what he takes to be the implications of the line and the concept of ziran. He writes: By fa is meant governed. Humanity does not turn away from earth, thus we obtain complete peace. This is to be governed by earth. Earth does not turn away from heaven, thus it obtains complete fullness. This is to be governed by heaven. Heaven does not turn away from Dao, thus it obtains complete cover [over the world]. This is to be governed by Dao. Dao does not turn away from ziran, thus it obtains its inborn characteristics. This is to be governed by ziran. If that which is governed by ziran is in a place, it is governed by that place. If it is on a sphere it is governed by that sphere—that which is ziran has nothing from which it turns away. Ziran is the statement that does not state, the words that completely capture the ultimate … Because Dao is governed by ziran, heaven gains its features. Because heaven is governed by Dao, earth has its guide. Because earth is governed by heaven, humanity has its model.

法, 謂法則也。人不違地, 乃得全安, 法地也。地不違天, 乃得全載, 法天也。天不 違道, 乃得全覆, 法道也。道不違自然, 乃得其性, 法自然也。法自然者, 在方而法 方, 在圓而法圓, 於自然無所違也。自然者, 無稱之言, 窮極之辭也 ⋯⋯ 道法自然, 天故資焉。 天法於道, 地故則焉。地法於天, 人故象焉 (Lou 2009: 65).

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We see that Wang Bi here associates ziran with inborn characteristics, in that ziran is what provides Dao (and everything else) with its inborn characteristics on which it relies.2 Because ziran turns away from nothing, things that act in a ziran manner are dependent on the characteristics obtained from their location. They are guided only by the inborn characteristics of those things that constitute them, and thus depend on “themselves.” The link here with “inborn characteristics” is key. To see ziran as an expression of inborn characteristics is a key step in coming to see ziran itself as the inherent nature of things, and identifying it with “nature” in the sense we generally mean it when we speak of the “natural world”—that is, those things that develop only in terms of the regular manifestation of their inborn characteristics, and not through either intentional direction or external manipulation. As I show below, this conception of ziran activity can be traced back to the views of Wang Chong. In his commentary on the Zhuangzi, Guo Xiang offers a conception of ziran that, in some ways, seems at odds with that found in the text. As I show below, it shares much more in common with the conception of ziran found in Wang Chong’s Lunheng. The conception of ziran developed in the work of Guo Xiang takes agency as central to the concept. The ziran act is that which is not done on the basis of any external impetus, and even more so without agency in the sense of willful chosen action. The ziran object, likewise, is one not purposely created as a result of some agency, but one that becomes so on its own spontaneous self-generation. On Guo Xiang’s ontology, ziran is linked with the literal nothingness of the primordial Dao out of which things come to be. Things come to be of themselves, meaning with no agency or even causation behind their coming to be, but rather based on principles of the things themselves alone. Ziran is linked with the concept of inborn characteristics or nature (xing 性), which is required to explain how things can so develop absent willful construction or external direction. Guo Xiang seems to take non-agentive activity as ideal, seeing deliberative and chosen action as problematic in a number of ways. For Guo, this lack of agency inherent in ziran activity and being also entails lack of awareness or knowledge on the part of that which is ziran. Guo’s view here is curious, given that he seems to go beyond what is necessary to demonstrate that ziran activity is not willful, deliberate, or agentive. One might seemingly engage in non-deliberate activity without lacking the knowledge of how this activity happens. Learning about the function of certain involuntary physical processes, like the beating of the heart, for example, is consistent with the absence of deliberate control over the process. Looking to Guo Xiang’s explanation, he seems to be denying a causal connection between knowledge and performance in the case of ziran activity. Guo writes: All these things are so without knowing why they are so, and thus they are called muddled; now knowers don’t know how they know and yet they themselves spontaneously know; those who are born don’t know how they are born and yet are themselves spontaneously 2  Wang Bi does not tackle the seeming problem that arises from this—that is, in what sense can we understand Dao to have inborn characteristics? It certainly cannot be in the same way that “things” (wu 物) have such characteristics.

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born. Although the ten thousand things are all different, in that their coming to be never comes from knowing, they are all the same, hence all in the world are muddled (Ziporyn 1993: 518).

凡此上事, 皆不知其所以為而然, 故曰芒也。今未知者皆不知所以知而自知矣, 生者不知所以生而自生矣。萬物雖異, 至於生不由知, 則未有不同者也, 故天下 莫不芒也 (Guo 1985: 61).

The denial of agency in the case of ziran activity is extended to denial of knowledge, and action from knowledge, which entails a kind of skill action. Brook Ziporyn (1993: 518) points out that Guo Xiang’s conception of ziran is wholly negative, in the sense of a denial of the production of a thing or act through reflection or intention. Like Wang Chong (as I show below), Guo mainly employs the concept of ziran as a way of rejecting claims of intentional or deliberate creation (wei 為). All action is ultimately grounded in non-agentive ziran activity, in the sense of the origins of activity having such a nature. Even where we can find agentive or deliberative activity in the world, we can trace the causes of this activity back to an originally ziran source. Thus, the nature of the generation of things in the world themselves is ziran. Guo writes: For nearby things, we can sometimes know their causes; but if we continue seeking the sources [of these causes themselves, and so on ad infinitum] until we reach the ultimate, we will find [them to be] for no cause, but rather ziran. Since they are ziran, we cannot ask the least about their cause. We must simply go along with them (Ziporyn 1993: 519).3

夫物事之近, 或知其故, 然尋其原以至乎極, 則無故而自爾也。自爾則無所稍問 其故也, 但當順之 (Guo 1985: 596).

The non-agentive and spontaneous activity of ziran is, for Guo Xiang, perfected action. The Zhuangist understanding of perfected activity in terms of “abandoning knowledge and thus following the patterns of nature 去知與故循天之理” is explained by Guo as a matter of ziran. Knowledge is abandoned because the patterns of nature are known “of themselves,” spontaneously and without agentive effort. Guo connects this ziran knowledge to non-deliberative action, writing: The patterns of nature are known of themselves (ziran), thus action can be non-agentive.

天理自然, 知故無為乎其間 (Guo 1985: 540).

We see here that wuwei activity is closely linked with ziran. While wuwei for Guo Xiang appears to be a kind of non-agentive or non-deliberative action, ziran also has this connotation. So what is the difference between them? Primarily, it seems ziran has to do with generation, whether of things in a concrete sense or of skill states such as knowledge (zhi 知). While non-agentive activity is stressed by Guo Xiang, a primary sense of his conception of ziran is that such an act is not performed on the basis of following an

 Guo Xiang here uses the construction zi er 自爾 rather than ziran, but I substitute it here as they both have the same meaning. Ziporyn translates zi er “self-so” which is the same as his translation of ziran. 3

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external “trace” (ji 跡), but is performed on the basis of one’s own characteristics or nature. A ziran act then must be completely one’s own act, in terms of being attributable only to features of oneself and not to any deliberate following of the acts of others—in this sense, fully autonomous—but must also be non-deliberative in the sense of being produced automatically and spontaneously from one’s inborn characteristics as source without choice or deliberation as an intermediary. While we may want to separate the two aspects involved here, of deliberative action and following the external “trace,” Guo sees these as intimately related. Every deliberate action, according to him, relies on following a trace, and it is only ziran activity that acts independently of traces (D’Ambrosio 2016: 120). Thus, the deliberative processes of the mind, insofar as they can guide action, require traces as a key aspect of their functioning.4 This entails that the kind of knowledge (if any) involved in ziran activity is itself a non-deliberative and spontaneous skill, a kind of ziran knowledge much different than what we might otherwise consider knowledge.5 Guo writes: As ziran knowing, knowing is not a result of knowing, is unknown, is itself a kind of non-­ knowing (Ziporyn 2009: 188).

自知耳, 不知也, 不知也則知出於不知矣 (Guo 1985: 224).

Here, Guo Xiang seems to reject all knowledge, at least in the sense of awareness, as connected to ziran activity. Even the knowing that can be called ziran knowing is actually a form of non-knowing. Does Guo mean by this to reference the Zhuangist distinction between “lesser knowledge” and “greater knowledge”? Ziran knowledge may refer to the kind of skill a thing has to produce ziran activity as well as to be self-generated on the basis of its inborn characteristics. If every act, including creative acts, requires some performance of skill or ability, then ziran activity can only require that performance of skill that is non-deliberate, does not rely on “traces” outside of the acting thing, and does not happen as a result of choice or deliberate cultivation of “prohairetic” abilities.6 Understanding Dao as non-being allowed Guo to read the seeming statements of the creative power of Dao or discussions of Dao as a source in texts such as the Daodejing and Zhuangzi as demonstrating the self-created nature of things. This view can also be found in the work of Wang Bi,7 and can help make sense of the Xuanxue thinkers’ adoption of the conception of ziran found in the work of Wang Chong. A shift in thinking about the concept of ziran happens for a

4  This may be linked to the Zhuangist notion of “things” imposed on the world through conceptualization, and with which deliberative reasoning happens. 5  This may be how Guo Xiang understands the xiao zhi / da zhi distinction of the Zhuangzi. 6  Relying here on Aristotle’s term prohairesis, which can refer to the cluster of concepts associated with volition and choice. 7  Ziporyn writes: “This amounted to taking the Laozi’s claim that ‘being comes out of non-being,’ developed by Wang Bi, to mean literally that nothing creates existent things, that is, that they create themselves.” Ziporyn 1993: 512.

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number of reasons, not least of which is the turn in Han and Wei-Jin thought towards metaphysics and away from the primarily ethical concerns of Warring States texts.8

4  A Brief Look at Ziran in the Daodejing and Zhuangzi The texts on which Wang Bi and Guo Xiang comment, while they do discuss the concept of ziran, seem to have often very different understandings of it than the ones the Xuanxue thinkers provide. The concept of ziran in the Daodejing is linked with wuwei activity and the ability to act on the basis of one’s understanding of Dao and following of the “natural patterns” (tian li 天理). Ziran is mentioned explicitly in five chapters of the Daodejing, with the constructions “generation of itself” (zisheng 自生) or “transformed of itself” (zihua 自 化) occurring in three other chapters (7, 37, and 57). Of the mentions of ziran in the text, only one appears to be potentially linked to metaphysics—the discussion of chapter 25. The other discussions of ziran all concern a particular kind of human activity associated with knowledge of Dao or activity from one’s own volition or choice rather than through considerations of external guides such as Confucian “ritual” (li 禮). Chapter 17 tells us that the greatest influence over the people (the authors presumably have rulers in mind) is found when one’s interests are maintained by the people while the people insist that it is not the ruler (or whatever influencer we have in mind) who determines their actions, but that instead that they act “of themselves” (ziran). Ziran here seems to suggest something like “autonomy”—that is, the people think that they act on their own volition, based on their own interests and desires, rather than following the command of another. We can see here that ziran does not yet have the connotation of non-agentive activity that we find in Xuanxue thinkers (and in the thought of Wang Chong before them). In Daodejing chapter 64, we find a conception of ziran that seems to associate the concept with the idea of a thing’s characteristic or typical ways of acting or being. In discussing the activity of the (Daoist) sage, we find the characteristically Daoist view that the sage desires what is non-desirable, does not value what is difficult to obtain, learns non-learning, and turns toward that from which others turn away. In doing so, the sage “aids the spontaneity of the myriad things 以輔萬物之 自然”, and does not act (wei 為). The suggestion here seems to be that the sage allows the myriad things to act as they are, following their own characteristics and natures, rather than imposing a particular value structure or using them for goal-­ directed purposes. Action “of themselves” here seems to be autonomous action, and thus also action following from the inborn characteristics (xing 性) of things.

8  The late Warring States and early Han are a kind of transition period in this regard. In the HuangLao 黃老 texts and those dealing with correlative cosmology, we find the beginnings of this metaphysical shift. Earlier texts are not unconcerned with metaphysics, but it is not the primary concern.

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The single instance of zisheng in Daodejing chapter 7 also gives us something very different than what we find in the discussions of this concept in the work of Guo Xiang and Wang Chong. Here, zi has the sense of “for itself” or “self-­concern.” The passage in this way treats zisheng (“generation of itself”) as negative, claiming that the longevity of heaven and earth is due to their failure to be generated for themselves, thus entailing failure to act out of concern for themselves. Such action might itself be ziran action, although the construction ziran is not explicitly used here. In the Zhuangzi, we find more discussion of ziran and related concepts, including the first use of zisheng reminiscent of the ways it is used in the work of Guo Xiang and Wang Chong. This use of zisheng comes in a short discussion of the origin and nature of all things in chapter 11. In mentioning that all things return to the root (gen 根), we are told that this returning is not based on a knowledge in the standard sense, but rather based on something like ziran activity. In returning to the root, one does not look for knowledge on the basis of names (ming 名) or the intrinsic characteristics of things (qing 情), and this return is associated with the “generation of itself” of the myriad things. The crucial part of the passage reads: Not asking its name, not seeking its essence, things thus are generated of themselves.

無問其名, 無闚其情, 物故自生 (Guo 1985: 390).

The discussions of ziran in the Zhuangzi are for the most part continuous with those of the Daodejing, concerning the natural development and autonomous activity of things, acting of themselves without following the designated patterns or instructions of external things. As in the discussions in Daodejing, we are enjoined to make use of the ziran activity of things, with the idea that our activity will be more skillful and our aims will be possible to achieve only when we follow the natural and spontaneous self-directed activity of things in themselves, rather than forcing things into our own intended patterns of activity, and our own value structures. Tying this issue specifically to rulership, a key passage in chapter 7 instructs: Allow your mind to wander in impotence, unify your vital essence with the indifferent. Follow the ziran of things, do not maintain a concern with self, and the entire world will be properly ordered.

汝遊心於淡, 合氣於漠, 順物自然, 而無容私焉, 而天下治矣 (Guo 1985: 294).

Ziran, in these early Daoist texts, is understood as a natural unfolding of activity based on the inborn characteristics of an autonomously acting thing. While we can certainly see how later thinkers such as Wang Bi and Guo Xiang might develop their conceptions of ziran from such a foundation, the views of these later thinkers are not anticipated by earlier Daoists, nor does their sense of ziran seem implicitly contained in the discussions of the Daodejing or Zhuangzi. To find the formative forebear of the conception of ziran we find in the texts of Xuanxue thinkers, we have to turn to the Eastern Han dynasty thinker Wang Chong.

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5  Wang Chong’s Conception of Ziran We see in Wang Chong’s development of the concept of ziran a movement away from earlier understandings, and toward the understanding we find in the work of Wang Bi and Guo Xiang. In this section, I offer a plausible account of the lines of transmission from Wang Chong to the early Xuanxue movement, and offer a broad overview of Wang Chong’s account of ziran and its place in his larger epistemological and metaphysical systems. In the Eastern Han and early Wei-Jin periods, scholars and officials engaged in a particular innovative style of debate that has come to be known as “pure conversation” (qingtan 清談) (Tang 1991: 18) and which seems to have taken much from Wang Chong’s argumentative method. A number of discussions of early Wei-Jin qingtan can be found in the fifth century CE text A New Account of the Tales of the World (Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語). While qingtan itself was more of a style and method of debate and discussion than anything like a school of thought or ideology, many scholars associated with qingtan demonstrated a kind of Huang-Lao combination of Daoist and Confucian commitment, with Buddhist ideas later becoming part of the amalgamation. The method developed by Wang Chong in his Lunheng, particularly in chapter 28 (wen Kong 問孔), is that of “questioning and challenging” (wennan 問難).9 This method would be later adopted by qingtan practitioners and closely associated with the new argumentative methods of the Wei-Jin period (Tang 1991: 20). In the History of the Later-Han, Fan Ye 范曄 (398–445 CE) describes a session of scholars engaging in “questioning and challenging” with Emperor Ming after a lecture by the latter on the Classics upon his accession to the throne in 58 CE (see Hou Hanshu, Lie zhuan 74.2). It is conceivable, but unlikely, that Wang Chong’s conception of “questioning and challenging” could have influenced the imperial court by 58 CE, given that Wang at the time was a minor figure of around 30 years old; however, what is more likely is that figures such as Fan Ye were influenced by Wang’s ideas and took them as their own. The only other reference to the method of “questioning and challenging” we find in literature discussing this period is in the Record of the Han from the Eastern Watch (Dongguan Hanji 東觀漢記), which dates to the late first century CE. It was compiled by a group of scholars under the guidance of Ban Gu 班固 (32–92 CE), who was also responsible for the History of the Han Dynasty (Han Shu 漢書). Here, we find the likely cross-­influence of Wang Chong, who, according to the Hou Hanshu account of his life, was a student of Ban Gu’s father Ban Biao and a contemporary and friend of Ban Gu himself, who is mentioned positively throughout Wang’s Lunheng.10

 For more, see McLeod 2018: 84–96.  See Emmerich 2008: 141 and 143. “[Wang] acknowledged that Ban Gu kept to the ‘truth’ (shi), treating him as an equal and praising him in the highest possible terms.” This was high and unusual praise coming from Wang, whose Lunheng charges nearly everyone, including those held as sages, such as Confucius and Mencius with violation of the standards imposed by truth.

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It is unclear whether the idea of “questioning and challenging” as rhetorical and philosophical method originated with Wang Chong or with Ban Gu, and just who influenced who here. Wang offers a far more robust account of wennan, however, describing it as a method, offering reasons in support of its application, then demonstrating how it works in practice. Ban Gu merely mentions the practice at two points in the Dongguan Hanji. Given that there is no mention of the practice in any extant text prior to this period, it seems clear that the formation of the concept of wennan dates to the generation of Wang Chong and Ban Gu. Wang’s influence among rhetoricians and scholars in the closing years of the Eastern Han and into the Wei-Jin period is also clear. A number of sources, including Li Xian’s 李賢 (654–684  CE) commentary to the Hou Hanshu biography of Wang Chong, attest to the influence of Wang’s work. According to this account, the Jin official Yuan Shansong 袁山松 (d. 399 CE) recounted that the Lunheng was unknown through much of the empire until its “discovery” in Wu County 呉縣 (Wang Chong’s home region) by the scholar Cai Yong 蔡邕 (132–192 CE), who used it as an aid in argument. From there, the account goes, others gained knowledge of the text. Another account points to Wang Lang 王朗 (d. 228 CE) as the main source of dissemination of Wang’s Lunheng. Wang Lang served as an administrator in Wang Chong’s home district of the Guiji Commandery 會稽郡,11 and in a story similar to that of Cai Yong, was claimed to have used the Lunheng as an aid in conversation and argument when he went to the Han capital in the service of the famous official and warlord Cao Cao 曹操 (155–220  CE), with the text gaining popularity from there. There are some interesting possibilities concerning lines of transmission of influence. While it is unlikely that there was direct influence of Wang Chong on Xuanxue thinkers such as Wang Bi and Guo Xiang through the latter’s access to the Lunheng, the likely intellectual influence of the Lunheng via Cai Yong on Xuanxue thought can be shown through a line of transmission. Wang Can 王粲 (171–217 CE) was a favored student of Cai Yong and inherited his library, which would have included the Lunheng. This library passed to the family of Wang Can’s cousin Wang Kai 王 楷 after the execution of Wang Can’s sons, and from here it would have certainly influenced Wang Bi, who was Wang Kai’s grandson (Makeham 1994: 238). Wang Bi also demonstrates influence from Wang Can’s own work (Lynn 2015: 373). Wang Chong discusses the concept of ziran throughout the Lunheng,12 but the most focused and detailed discussion of the concept is found in chapter 54, appropriately entitled “ziran 自然.” Wang’s central concern in this chapter is with the generation of things in the world. He denies that tian, in its creation of the myriad things (wanwu 萬物), is deliberately or in an agentive way responsible. Though tian can be understood as a cause and creator of (in this sense) the myriad things of the world, said things were created in a ziran manner—that is, created “of themselves.”  The location has alternately been rendered ‘Kuaiji.’ See Hargett 2013.  And likely a compilation of his works, including an earlier text also named Lunheng along with a number of his other essays and parts of lost texts. For more, see McLeod 2018, especially chapter 2.

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In this sense, tian creates but does not with any intention or following a specific plan—it does so spontaneously. We find a few key differences between Wang Chong’s account of ziran and those of the Xuanxue thinkers considered above, but Wang’s view is much closer to that of Wang Bi and Guo Xiang than the views of earlier thinkers, and it is with Wang Chong’s conception of ziran that we find the pivotal change in the sense of ziran as now primarily meaning non-agentive or non-deliberative. One of the passages of Guo Xiang’s Zhuangzi commentary most highly reminiscent of Wang Chong’s view is found in chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師). Considering a passage from the Zhuangzi on transformation and finding oneself with human form, Guo writes: Along the path of change and transformation, one will eventually experience everything. Today you are experiencing yourself in the form of a human being—how could this be a matter of deliberate effort? Birth is not due to deliberate effort—rather, in time one simply is born of oneself. Given that this is the case, isn’t it ridiculous [to insist on a certain form]?

夫變化之道, 夫靡所不遇, 今一遇人形, 豈故為哉? 生非故為, 時自生耳, 然而有之, 不亦妄乎 (Guo 1985: 263).

This is reminiscent of Wang Chong’s discussion in chapter 54 in a number of ways. Guo Xiang considers here the generation of things, particularly the human being, in terms of a birth “of itself” (zisheng)—the same terminology Wang uses. What is more, the stress in Guo’s usage is also the same as in Wang’s—the primary issue here is not that the thing in question creates itself but, rather, that there is no deliberative agency outside of the thing that brings it into existence. Heaven plays a role in human generation but it is non-deliberative—it creates with no intention, deliberation, or choice. Some scholars have read Wang’s claims about “creation of itself” in chapter 54 as being about independent creation rather than reliance on other external things for creation. Luo Anxian 羅安憲 (2018), for example, although he links ziran creation to Guo Xiang’s conception of non-deliberate creation, reads Wang’s conception of ziran as entailing the lack of responsibility of other things for the creation of a particular thing. A closer look at Wang’s reasons for discussing ziran in a number of chapters (particularly 54) shows that this does not seem to be the way he envisions ziran. Wang Chong begins his discussion of ziran with a consideration of “generation of itself” (zisheng)—the same concept discussed in the Guo Xiang passage above. While Wang discusses this “generation of itself” throughout the Lunheng, the only uses of the construction zisheng in texts earlier than the Lunheng are for very different purposes and with different meanings. The closest uses are found in passages from chapter 11 (zaiyou 在宥) of the Zhuangzi and chapter 1 of the Liezi (tianrui 天 瑞), which may have influenced both Wang Chong and Guo Xiang. Wang’s own use of zisheng is closest to that of Guo Xiang, who was clearly influenced (though perhaps indirectly) by Wang.13  Wang’s influence on both Guo Xiang’s and Pei Wei’s 裴頠 conceptions of zisheng are discussed in Ye 2009.

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Wang Chong opens chapter 54 with a claim that he will discuss the issue of the generation of things and the question of the purposive nature of tian’s activity in reliance on Daoist discussions. Given his use of the construction zisheng in the way he uses it, he likely has the parts of the Zhuangzi and Liezi mentioned above in mind. Wang writes: Heaven and earth unite qi, and the myriad things are created of themselves. It is just as the unity of the qi of a husband and wife leads to the creation of a child of itself. Among the myriad things that are created, those things of the type that contain blood all know hunger and cold. They see that the five kinds of grain can be eaten, and they cultivate and eat them. They see that silk and hemp can be worn, and they put them on and wear them. Some believe that heaven (purposefully) creates the five kinds of grain for humans to eat, and creates silk and hemp for humans to wear. This is like saying that heaven is the farmer or the mulberry girl servant of humans. This is not spontaneous activity thus we can doubt its rectitude and cannot consent to it. I will try to rely on the views of the Daoists in this discussion.

天地合氣, 萬物自生, 猶夫婦合氣, 子自生矣。萬物之生, 含血之類, 知飢知寒。見 五穀可食, 取而食之; 見絲麻可衣, 取而衣之。或說以為天生五穀以食人, 生絲麻以 衣人。 此謂天為人作農夫、桑女之徒也, 不合自然, 故其義疑, 未可從也。試依 道家論之 (Huang 1990: 775).

Right away, although Wang claims to be following the views of the Daoists, he goes beyond the earlier Daoist view on zisheng, in that he not only attributes independence to this self-generation, but (and more importantly) non-agentive and non-­ deliberative action. Wang’s main point here, and throughout the rest of the chapter, is to demonstrate that the “common” view that tian engages in purposive creation of things for human use or to reward, punish, or assist us is incorrect. Wang offers numerous arguments against these positions through the rest of chapter 54, some genuinely damaging—such as his argument that movement, even creative movement, does not entail want or intention, using the generation of a baby from the emission and combination of male and female qi—and some absurd—such as his argument that tian cannot deliberately act because it does not possess eyes or a mouth as do humans and thus cannot form desires on which to act deliberately. Wang argues that though the Daoists discussed ziran (he does not refer to the texts he has in mind here), they failed to offer examples of such activity so as to “test their claims 驗其言行.” Another feature of Wang’s view of ziran is that not only is it non-agentive activity, but that which is brought about through ziran activity is such that it cannot be brought about through deliberate activity. This signals a key difference between ziran activity and other kinds of activity. While a cup on my table might be knocked over by the wind blowing through my open window, I can also deliberately knock it over. Thus, many actions that are not attributable to any agency or deliberation potentially could have been such that they were attributable to agency or deliberation. This is not possible with ziran activity. Wang explains in chapter 3 (minglu 命祿): People of fortune and wealth do not desire poverty and disvalue, but poverty and disvalue can accrue of themselves. People of poverty and disvalue may not seek fortune and wealth, yet fortune and wealth can come of themselves. Whether one is imprisoned and killed in spring or summer, or invested in office by the king in autumn or winter, these cannot be

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brought about by one’s efforts. The sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening, without anyone seeking it—rather, it is a matter of the spontaneity of the way of heaven.

夫富貴不欲為貧賤, 貧賤自至; 貧賤不求為富貴, 富貴自得也。春夏囚死, 秋冬王 相, 非能為之也; 日朝出而暮入, 非求之也, 天道自然 (Huang 1990: 25).

Heavenly acts, according to Wang, are but acts in a non-agentive, non-­deliberative way. Wang’s view of ziran links the concept closely to the early Daoist concept of wuwei. In chapter 54, he contrasts ziran activity with wei, linking the latter to desires and purposive activity aimed at fulfilment of desires. Wang explains deliberative action as this: Things that deliberately act are of the kind that possess mouths and eyes. The mouth desires to drink and the eyes desire sights. One fosters these desires within. When they come forth externally, the mouth and eyes seek to obtain what is taken to be advantageous, and this desire leads to deliberate action. Now, without the desires of the mouth and eyes, things will have nothing to seek, and so how can they act deliberately?

案有為者、口目之類也, 口欲食而目欲視, 有嗜欲於內, 發之於外, 口目求之, 得以 為利, 欲之為也。今無口目之欲, 於物無所求索, 夫何為乎 (Huang 1990: 775–776).

Wang’s discussion here suggests that, pace Luo Anxian, it is not the denial of responsibility or (in some sense) agency that he is after in his discussion of ziran but, rather, that he attempts to undercut the idea that intentional or deliberate action brings about the generation of things in certain cases involving heaven. The key here is mental states such as desire, without which, Wang argues, there cannot be deliberate action (wei). There can be action absent wei, but such action is ziran, or to phrase it differently wuwei (non-deliberate action). Wang’s discussion in chapter 54 seems to collapse the notion of ziran activity into that of wuwei. This is just the move we find Guo Xiang make in his commentary on the Zhuangzi.

6  Conclusion Wang Chong’s innovations concerning the concept of ziran clearly influenced the thought of later thinkers such as Wang Bi and Guo Xiang, and as I have shown, there is a tighter connection between Wang’s conception of ziran and those of the two Xuanxue thinkers than has often been recognized. It is unclear how direct this influence was—neither Wang Bi nor Guo Xiang mention Wang Chong in their works—but through a consideration of the lines of influence (and textual transmission) in the late Eastern Han and the early Wei-Jin period, we can see that Wang Chong’s influence would have been pervasive even in the absence of direct access to his Lunheng. The understanding of ziran as connected to a non-agentive conception of activity (including generation), as argued above, is an innovation of Wang Chong’s. It is likely that this is not the only view of Wang’s that influenced later Xuanxue thinkers, given the similarities between the philosophical method associated with both, as well as the lines of transmission of Wang’s ideas outlined above. Understanding the

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link between Wang and later Xuanxue thinkers can both help us better understand the dominant views of ziran in Xuanxue, while serving as a necessary step in coming to a more complete account of Wang Chong’s influence in the later Chinese philosophical tradition more generally.

Bibliography D’Ambrosio, Paul. 2016. “Guo Xiang on Self-So Knowledge.” Asian Philosophy, 26.2: 119–132. Emmerich, Reinhard. 2008. “Wang Chong’s Praises for the Han Dynasty.” Monumenta Serica, 56: 117–148. Guo, Qingfan. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Hargett, James. 2013. “會稽: Guaiji? Guiji? Huiji? Kuaiji? Some Remarks on an Ancient Chinese Place-Name”, Sino-Platonic Papers, 234: 1–32. Huang, Hui 黃暉. 1990. Explanations and Comments on Lunheng 論衡校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 2009. Wang Bi’s Explanations on the Comments on Laozi’s Daodejing 老子道 德經注校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Luo, Anxian 羅安憲. 2018. “Being, Condition, and ziran: A Discussion of ziran in Zhuangzi’s Philosophy 存在、狀態與自然: 論莊子哲學中的自然.” Modern Philosophy 現代哲學, 3: 123–129. Lynn, Richard J. 2015. “Wang Bi and Xuanxue.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 369–396. Dordrecht: Springer. Makeham, John. 1994. Name and Actuality in Early Chinese Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press. McLeod, Alexus. 2018. The Philosophical Thought of Wang Chong. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Tang, Yiming. 1991. The Voices of Wei-Jin Scholars: A Study of Qingtan. Ph.D.  Dissertation, Columbia University. Ye, Shuyin 葉淑茵. 2009. “An Inquiry into Wang Chong’s Conception of ziran and its Influence on the Conception of ziran of Pei Wei and Guo Xiang 王充自生概念對裴頠與郭象自生概念影 響之探究.” Monthly Review of Philosophy and Culture 哲學與文化, 36.6: 155–174. Ziporyn, Brook. 1993. “The Self-So and Its Traces in the Thought of Guo Xiang.” Philosophy East and West, 43.3: 511–539. Ziporyn, Brook, trans. 2009. Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings. Indianapolis: Hackett. Alexus McLeod is Associate Professor of Philosophy and Asian/Asian-American Studies at the University of Connecticut. He works primarily in Early Chinese and Comparative Philosophy. He is the author of five books, the most recent of which are: The Philosophical Thought of Wang Chong (2018) and Philosophy of the Ancient Maya (2017). He is also editor of The Bloomsbury Research Handbook of Early Chinese Ethics and Political Philosophy (2019).

Part III

Xuanxue in the Wei Dynasty

Chapter 9

He Yan’s “Essay on Dao” and “Essay on the Nameless” Paul D’Ambrosio

He Yan 何晏 (193–249  CE) is often considered one of the first of the Wei-Jin Xuanxue 玄學 scholars. In the fragments of his writings we can see, perhaps for the first time on record, metaphysical and ontological elaborations on the Dao 道 of the Daodejing 道德經. In particular, He Yan focuses on the relationship between Dao and things, as well as Dao, things, and naming. Interestingly, while the vocabulary employed by He Yan often matches that of the Daodejing, his descriptions seem to flip many of its arguments on their head. This is especially clear in He Yan’s discussion of the famous sage-ruler Yao 堯, whom he uses as an analogy for understanding the namelessness of Dao. He Yan references the “tai bo 泰伯” chapter of the Analects (Lunyu 論語)—where Yao is taken to be “too complete” or too full of virtue to be named—to discuss the ineffability of Dao. This seems at odds with constant appeal to the emptiness of Dao in the Daodejing. More importantly, however, it demonstrates a growing trend in Wei-Jin philosophy—namely, the conflation of arguments and themes found in the Analects and the Daodejing. He Yan is said to have written a commentary on the Daodejing, which he promptly discarded after seeing that by Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE). Today only two selections of He Yan’s essays on the Daodejing survive,1 and both are found as quotations in the Eastern Jin 東晉 (317–420 CE) scholar Zhang Zhan’s 張湛 commentary on the Liezi 列子. Below we will look closely at the fragments of He

 We also have a commentary (which often reads more like an annotation) to the Lunyu that He Yan headed-up. However, most scholars focus almost exclusively on the selections from “On Dao” and “On the Nameless” when investigating He Yan’s thought. For more on which parts of the Lunyu commentary were actually penned (or brushed) by He Yan, see Yuet Keung Lo’s chapter in this Companion.

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P. D’Ambrosio (*) Center for Intercultural Research, East China Normal University, Shanghai, China © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_9

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Yan’s writings, detailing them in context of the texts he is working off, and look closely at their references to the Daodejing.

1  “On Dao” (Dao lun 道論) In the first chapter of the Liezi (tianrui 天瑞), which A.C.  Graham translates as “Heaven’s Gifts,” the latter part of the third section states: Hence the Way [Dao] of heaven and earth must be either Yin or Yang, the teaching of the sage must be either kindness or justice, and the myriad things, whatever their appropriate functions, must be either hard or soft. All these observe their appropriate functions and cannot leave their places. Hence there are the begotten and the begetter of the begotten, shapes and the shaper of shapes, sounds and the sounder of sounds, colors and the colorer of colors, flavors and the flavorer of flavors. What begetting begets dies, but the begetter of the begotten never ends. What shaping shapes is real, but the shaper of shapes has never existed. What sounding sounds is heard, but the sounder of sounds has never issued forth. What coloring colors is visible, but the colorer of colors never appears. What flavoring flavors is tasted, but the flavorer of flavors is never disclosed. All are the offices of “That Which Does Nothing” (Graham 1960: 20; translation modified).

故天地之道, 非陰則陽; 聖人之教, 非仁則義; 萬物之宜, 非柔則剛:此皆隨所宜而 不能出所位者也。故有生者, 有生生者; 有形者, 有形形者; 有聲者, 有聲聲者; 有 色者, 有色色者; 有味者, 有味味者。生之所生者死矣, 而生生者未嘗終; 形之所形 者實矣, 而形形者未嘗有; 聲之所聲者聞矣, 而聲聲者未嘗發; 色之所色者彰矣, 而 色色者未嘗顯; 味之所味者嘗矣, 而味味者未嘗呈:皆無為之識也 (Yang 2007: 9–10).

The subject here is clearly Dao, which, as has been emphasized in the Daodejing, is partial neither to Yin 陰 or Yang 陽 (chapter 42), nor to particular moral teachings— i.e., discussions of appropriateness, kindness, or “justice” (see especially chapters 5, 18, 19, and 38).2 This impartiality is what allows all other things to flourish. The final two sentences of this section in the Liezi read: [Dao is] able to [make things] Yin and Yang, soft and hard, short and long, round and square, life3 and death, warm and cold, float or sink, the note gong or shang, to bring forth or submerge, darken or yellow, sweet or bitter, stinky or fragrant (Graham 1960: 20; translation modified).

能陰能陽, 能柔能剛, 能短能長, 能員能方, 能生能死, 能暑能涼, 能浮能沈, 能宮能 商, 能出能沒, 能玄能黃, 能甘能苦, 能羶能香。無知也, 無能也, 而無不知也, 而無 不能也 (Yang 2007: 10).

All things are generated through Dao. Speaking of its being partial, or more accurately aligned with one thing or another, would ignore its foundational role. That is, 2  Whether or not Dao, or the Daodejing condones morality is certainly up for debate. While these chapters clearly criticize moral concepts, this can be taken as a criticism of the codification or institutionalization of morality and not morality itself. Wang Bi and Chen Guying hold this latter view, while Hans-Georg Moeller argues that a broader view of morality is being criticized (cf. D’Ambrosio 2019). 3  Sheng 生 is “beget” in Graham’s translation here and above. I have modified it to fit the overall argument of this chapter.

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its role as that-which-makes-things X, Y, or Z. Dao itself cannot be taken as merely X, Y, or Z. Nothing in the world, and no sound, concept, or explanation, can ever fully reach that which begets all sounds, concepts, and explanations. It is here that Zhang Zhan quotes from He Yan’s work “Dao lun 道論:” Beings depend on wu [that-which-is-not-present] in coming into existence, in becoming what they are.4 Affairs on account of wu come to fruition and become what they are. Now, one tries to speak about wu, but no words could describe it; name it, but it has no name; look at it, but it does not have any form; listen to it, but it does not give any sound. Then, indeed, it is clear that Dao is complete. Thus, it can bring forth sounds and echoes; generate qi-­ energies and things; establish form and spirit; and illuminate light and shadows. What is dark obtains its blackness from it; what is plain obtains its whiteness from it. The carpenter’s square is able to make a square because of it; the compass is able to make a circle because of it. The round and the square obtain their form, but that which gives them their form itself does not have any form. The white and the black obtain their name, but that which gives them their name itself does not have any name (Chan 2010: 25; translation modified).

有之為有, 恃無以生。事而為事, 由無以成。夫道之而無語, 名之而無名, 視之而 無形, 聽之而無聲, 則道之全焉。故能昭音響而出氣物, 包形神而章光影。玄以 之黑, 素以之白, 矩以之方, 規以之圓。圓方得形, 而此無形, 白黑得名, 而此無名也 (Yang 2007: 10–11).

In this discussion He Yan makes two major points. Firstly, he links wu 無 with Dao. Secondly, he introduces the notion of “completeness” (quan 全) to describe Dao.

1.1  Dao and Wu The first point follows easily from what is given in the Liezi, which is itself already a development on the Daodejing. In addition to the impartiality ascribed to Dao, the Liezi tells us about the “appropriate functions” (yi 宜)5 of things before settling into a more familiar Daodejing-type discussion of Dao. The “appropriate functions” of things is another way of contrasting concrete phenomenon as partial in their activities with the “non-action” (wuwei 無為) of Dao. The concrete characteristics that allow for things to have “appropriate functions” are then described as the particular shapes, sounds, colors, flavors, and other narrow aspects. These qualities, along with the very generation of things, are done by “that which does nothing,” or more simply, “non-action.” The non-acting Dao does more than provide the most elemental attributes; it endows them with their most precise shading as well. Everything from their texture and size to vitality, temperature, and smell are from the non-­acting Dao. The excerpt Zhang Zhan chooses from He Yan’s “On Dao” spells out this similar point in far less cryptic language than is found in the Liezi. 4  Here again we have sheng 生. Chan translates it as “coming into existence” and “becoming what they are” which display the dual meaning at work in this sentence. 5  Here I am reading yi 宜 as analogous to yi 誼, “appropriate/reasonable action or reasoning.” See the “Jinyu si 晉語四” chapter of the Discourses of the States (Guo Yu 國語).

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Looked at in the context of chapter 11 in the Daodejing, the connection between wu 無 (“that-which-is-not-present,” “non-presence,” or “emptiness”) and particular things—including their (appropriate) functions—becomes clear. Chapter 11 reads: Thirty spokes are united in one hub. It is in its [space of] wu (emptiness), where the usefulness of the cart is. Clay is heated and a pot is made. It is in its [space of] wu (emptiness), where the usefulness of the pot is. Doors and windows are chiseled out. It is in its [space of] wu (emptiness), where the usefulness of a room is. Thus, there is you for the benefit, there is wu for the use (Moeller 2007: 27; translation modified).

三十輻, 共一轂, 當其無, 有車之用。埏埴以為器, 當其無, 有器之用。鑿戶牖以為 室, 當其無, 有室之用。故有之以為利, 無之以為用 (Lou 2009: 26–27).

Particular things are likened to the spokes of a wheel. Each has its own concrete form or shape, and on this basis carries out its appropriate function. The hub of the wheel, which is empty or wu, unites them all, but it itself has neither a form nor function. The shape of the hub is formed by what surrounds it; it itself has no shape. Similarly, the hub only has a function when something else, such as an axle, uses it. Alone, or “it-in-itself,” serves no function. This is true in terms of the wu (empty space) of vessels and rooms or windows as well. Their shape is determined by what is around them, and their function can only be realized through the replacement of wu with you 有 (“that-which-is-present,” “presence,” or “being”). For example, a boarded-up window no longer serves as a window. Its wu has been filled in with you. Accordingly, we see that wu is useful only as a placeholder for you. This somewhat mundane point is given a strong metaphysical extension in He Yan’s philosophy and has significant recurring repercussions throughout the history of Chinese thought. The quote from He Yan above begins with a phrase that exemplifies the summarization of his and Wang Bi’s philosophies in the History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書), namely “taking wu as the root” (yi wu wei ben 以無為本). It is through wu that all things and affairs come into existence, and all things and affairs rely on wu to be completed. This wu is itself nameless or ineffable (wuming 無名) because it has no particular attributes. It is that by which or through which things have attributes, and thus names. Before delving into He Yan’s use of “nameless” it is important to note that in pre-Qin philosophical texts by the likes of Confucius, Mencius 孟子, Xunzi 荀子, or Hanfeizi 韓非子, one of the most foundational philosophical frameworks is the relationship between ming 名 (“names,” “titles,” “doctrines,” “reputation”) and shi 實 (“actualities,” “realities,” “things”).6 Ming were expected to correspond to particular shi (or xing 形, “shape,” “form,” “appearance”), and the precise way this correspondence was established, as well as the project for securing it, was a central issue for all of the aforementioned figures. It also formed the basis of their disagreements (cf. D’Ambrosio, Kantor, Moeller 2018). Thus, when He Yan describes the ineffability of Dao, he says that it has no shape and makes no sound—it has no concrete shi (or xing). There is no-thing for the name “Dao” to correspond to, as that 6

 Jana Rošker covers this topic in her contribution to this Companion.

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which is called “Dao” is not a particular shi (or xing) which could be indicated by a specific name. Up to this point, the bulk of He Yan’s argument is a fairly direct development of various sections in the Daodejing—especially chapters 1 and 42. In the first chapter of the Daodejing, for example, we read: A Dao that can be spoken is not the permanent Dao, a name that can be named is not the permanent name. Having no name is the beginning of all things. Having a name is the mother of all things. Thus, permanently being without desires, in order to see subtleties. To permanently have desires, to see what is yearned for. The two come together, have different names, and are both called the obscurity of the obscure, the gate of many subtleties. (Moeller 2007: 3; translation modified).

道可道也, 非恆道也。名可名也, 非恆名也。無名, 萬物之始也。有名, 萬物之母 也。故, 恆無欲也, 以觀其妙; 恆有欲也, 以觀其所徼。兩者同出, 異名同謂, 玄之 又玄, 眾妙之門 (Lou 2009: 1–2).

Chen Guying 陳鼓應 explains that there are three Daos 道 in the first sentence. The first is the everyday “dao” that describes a skill or method. The second means “to say” or “to speak,” and the third is a specific philosophical concept in the Daodejing that indicates both the “substance” (shiti 實體) and “force” (dongli 動力) that constitutes the universe. In other words, Dao is both what and how the universe is what it is. Chen also notes that Dao as a philosophical concept is constant but also changing (Chen 2008: 73). As, for example, chapter 40 of the Daodejing records, “reversal is the movement of Dao” (fanzhe dao zhi dong 反者道之動). In the first lines of chapter 42 of the Daodejing we find the idea of Dao as the beginning or mother of things elaborated upon in what has often been read as a metaphysical or ontological argument: Dao generates oneness, oneness generates twoness, twoness generates threeness, threeness generates all things (Moeller 2007: 3; translation modified).

道生一, 一生二, 二生三, 三生萬物 (Lou 2009: 117).

This is often read along with chapter 40: Reversal is the movement of Dao, weakness is the function of Dao. All things in the world are generated from you, you is generated from wu (Moeller 2007: 97; translation modified).

反者道之動; 弱者道之用。天下萬物生於有, 有生於無 (Lou 2009: 110).

Taking wu as the foundation for you, which is itself said to generate all things, the Dao of chapter 42 is then taken to be equivalent to wu. According to one reading of chapter 42 “oneness” is then you, twoness is Yin and Yang, threeness is the combination of oneness and twoness, and all things are generated therefrom. Alternatively, we can read chapter 42 in light of chapter 25, which says: There is a thing, it came to be in the undifferentiated, it came alive before heaven and earth. What stillness! What emptiness! Alone it stands fast and does not change. It can be mother to heaven and earth. I do not know its name. It is called Dao. If I was forced to name it, I would say “Greatness.” “Greatness” means “to proceed.” “To proceed” means “distance.” “Distance” means “return.” Dao is great, heaven is great, the earth is great, and the king is also great. In the land there are four greats—and the king positions himself where they are

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one. Humans follow the earth, the earth follows heaven, heaven follows Dao, and Dao follows its self-so (Moeller 2007: 63; translation modified).

有物混成, 先天地生。寂兮寥兮, 獨立不改, 周行而不殆, 可以為天下母。吾不知 其名, 字之曰道, 強為之名曰大。大曰逝, 逝曰遠, 遠曰反。故道大, 天大, 地大, 王 亦大。域中有四大, 而王居其一焉。人法地, 地法天, 天法道, 道法自然 (Lou 2009: 62–64).

Here Dao is described as following its own self-so. Combined with the first sentence, which says that it “came alive” or was “generated” (sheng 生) before all things, we arrive at the idea that Dao is autopoetic. It is a closed system which reproduces and maintains itself without reliance on external forces. The question “Where does this beginning begin?” is thereby eschewed. The system itself, which includes time and space, cannot be subject to such concerns either. Chapter 42 can thus be interpreted as such: Dao is self-generating oneness, twoness is wu and you, threeness is the combination of oneness and twoness, and all things are generated therefrom. Equating Dao with wu, He Yan shows that Dao is wu in terms of being full of potentiality. All things rely on it for becoming what they are; Dao allows, for example, black things to be black or square things to be square. Dao even provides them with the names they are called (not the particular names, but names in general). Dao itself has no particular color, shape, or any other attribute, because it is what allows everything concrete to be what it is. He Yan thus concludes that Dao is “complete.”

1.2  Dao and Completeness The first sentences of He Yan’s “On Dao” gloss the connection between Dao and wu in a way that is entirely consistent with chapter 40 of the Daodejing, some readings of chapter 42, and reflects the general theory of naming found in many pre-Qin texts. The major development, that is, something not found in the Daodejing, and even potentially inconsistent with some readings of Dao as the substance and force of the universe, is He Yan’s conclusion that Dao is “complete.” Indeed, the word “complete” only appears in two chapters of the Daodejing, and neither link “complete” directly to Dao. It is, however, associated with the sage. Chapter 22 reads: Flexed then complete, bent then upright, hollow then full, worn out then new, little then gaining, much then confused. Therefore, the sage holds on to oneness, to be shepherd of the world. He does not make himself shown, and thus he is apparent. He does not make himself right, and thus shines, he does not acclaim himself, and thus he has success, he is not conceited, and thus can last long. Well, it is because only he does not struggle that nobody can struggle with him. What in antiquity was said with respect to the flexed and the whole— weren’t these words that came close? To the truly complete—this is where it returns (Moeller 2007: 55; translation modified).

曲則全, 枉則直, 窪則盈, 弊則新, 少則得, 多則惑。是以聖人抱一為天下式。不自 見, 故明; 不自是, 故彰; 不自伐, 故有功; 不自矜, 故長。夫唯不爭, 故天下莫能與 之爭。古之所謂曲則全者, 豈虛言哉!誠全而歸之 (Lou 2009: 55–56).

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The “oneness” that the sage grasps is Dao. “Oneness” is one of the many images used to point out Dao in the Daodejing (it is also used in chapters 11 and 39). So, regardless of how the oneness of chapter 42 is interpreted, here “oneness” is certainly a stand-in for Dao. Through comprehending Dao, the sage is able to “flex and be complete.” However, as He Yan immediately notes, Dao brings forth all sorts of particular, i.e., non-whole, aspects—including forms, colors, and their names. The “completeness” or “wholeness” He Yan identifies with Dao is actually a type of “fullness.” Things and affairs come to be what they are because they are the, to speak in the words of the Zhuangzi 莊子, “picking out” (qu 取) of particular aspects of Dao as seen in chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of that text. Alan Chan directly asks the question any serious reader of “On Dao” is presented with: Is Dao so defined [i.e., as wu] because it is something that exists but cannot be described, in which case one may translate wu as “nothingness,” or does wu signify ontological absence or negation, an abstract “non-being” transcending the domain of beings altogether? (Chan 2010: 29).

His answer is that, most likely He Yan is suggesting that Dao refers to an unfathomable ‘energy’ … Although Dao does not have phenomenal attributes, it is nonetheless an ontological presence, on which beings depend in becoming what they are (Chan 2010: 29).

Xu Jianliang 許建良 similarly argues that He Yan describes a “perfect Dao that is without form, sound … and therefore cannot be described or named, and in this way ‘Dao’ and ‘wu’ have the same meaning” (Xu 2003: 110). Xu also notes, in agreement with Alan Chan, Yu Dunkang (2004),7 Wang Deyou (2010), and others, that the apparent emptiness of Dao does not mean that it “‘is nothing at all,’ nor that it ‘does not exist’”8; it is rather the “important factor” (yaoyin 要因) in the development of things and affairs (Xu 2003: 111). For Xu, He Yan’s Dao is still an “actual existence” (shiti de cunzai 實體的存在), a fullness that gives birth to all things and affairs. Accordingly, Dao cannot be named because it is too complete or full to be named. Any one name would only point to, or pick-out one isolated aspect of Dao, leaving behind all others. Here we have a fantastic example of a common theme throughout many major Xuanxue thinkers, namely, the reimaging of the relationship between Confucian and Daoist texts—mainly the Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes), Analects, Daodejing, and Zhuangzi. In “On Dao,” He Yan indirectly links the idea of Dao as

7   Yu Dunkang writes: “He Yan’s idea of you and wu [which is based on the Zhouyi and the Daodejing] cannot be likened to Western philosophy’s concepts, and made into a simple comparison; we cannot take you and wu [or the discussion of Dao] as an existence and non-existence [or being and nothingness] problem/concept 何宴所說的有與無 (根據周易和老子), 我們不能用西 方的哲學概念來作簡單的比附, 把它們理解為存在於非存在.” Yu 2004: 87. 8  Other scholars, including Wang Xiaoyi 王曉毅, have argued that He Yan actually thinks Dao is “empty” (kong 空), “non-existent” (fei cunzai 非存在), and “nothing at all” (shenme dou meiyou 什麼都沒有). Wang 1996: 28.

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the nameless generator of all things found in the Daodejing with the namelessness found in the Analects through his use of “complete.” In the Analects namelessness is the result of something being too great (or full) to be named, as the “tai bo 泰伯” chapter illustrates: The Master said, how great indeed was Yao as ruler! How majestic! Only heaven is truly great, and only Yao took it as his model. How expansive was he—the people could not find the name adequate to praise him. How majestic was he in his accomplishments, and how brilliant was he in his cultural achievements (Ames and Rosemont 1998: 124; translation modified).

子曰:大哉堯之為君也! 巍巍乎! 唯天為大, 唯堯則之。蕩蕩乎! 民無能名焉。巍 巍乎其有成功也, 煥乎其有文章 (Cheng 1997: 549–551).

Confucius describes the ancient sage-ruler Yao as someone who is “truly great,”9 the only person able to take heaven (tian 天) as his model. The people were “unable to name him” (wuneng ming 無能名) because of his expansiveness (da 大). Throughout the commentary on the Analects edited by He Yan, emphasis is placed on accomplishments and achievements as being more than what words can encapsulate. After the sentence “how expansive was he—the people could not find the words adequate to praise him” the commentary records: “It says Yao’s virtue was broad and reached many [people], the people did not know his name 言其布德廣遠, 民無能識其名焉” (Dong 2016: 122). Using any word to describe Yao—even a high compliment such as “humane” (ren 仁), “appropriate” (yi 義), or “[in line with] ritual” (li 禮)—can only grossly underestimate his true greatness. In some sense all (good) terms can be used to name Yao, but none of them quite “reach” his amazing accomplishments and achievements. Yao is simply beyond linguistic designation. The idea of being “beyond” particular names is echoed again later in the Analects. In the “zi han 子罕” chapter, Confucius himself is said to be so great and expansive in learning (boxue 博學) that no one name can track him with a particular name: A man of the village of Da Xiang said, great indeed is the philosopher Kong! His learning is extensive, and yet he does not render his name famous by any particular thing. The Master heard the observation, and said to his disciples: What shall I practice? Shall I practice charioteering, or shall I practice archery? I will practice charioteering (Legge 2017: 43; translation modified).

達巷黨人曰: 大哉孔子! 博學而無所成名。子聞之, 謂門弟子曰: 吾何執? 執御乎? 執射乎? 吾執御矣 (Cheng 1997: 568–570).

He Yan’s edited commentary on the first sentence explains it as “praise for Confucius’s broad learning and skillful way, which cannot form one name” (Dong 2016: 128). Wang Bi’s commentary articulates the point with an illustrative analogy: “like harmonious music that comes from eight sounds, the eight sounds are not the definition (ming 名) of the music” (Lou 2009: 262). We can thereby understand the Master’s “greatness” as indicating that he is a harmonious collection of various virtues. He is, in fact, an emergent harmony—more than simply the sum of his parts. 9  According to Fu Peirong 傅佩榮, being “truly great” means: “Yao is too perfect, [thus] the people cannot come up with a name for him.” Fu 2012: 124.

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For this reason, there is no particular name to describe him, or, as the text says, there is not one virtue by which his fame can be recognized. The view on being unnamable in the Analects is thus closely associated with “greatness” or “expansiveness.” In the passages above, we saw the “unnamable” as an argument that certain people are beyond the very function of names—that is, picking out particular qualities or aspects. Yao and Confucius are, in some sense, too good to be named. Their goodness is more than any name for a particular virtue can express. This runs contrary to prominent readings of namelessness in the Daodejing. Dao is often read as ineffable, not because it is too “great” or “beyond names” but, rather, because it is prior to linguistic designations. In other words, Dao is before the differences that names point out. Importantly, these differences include what is considered good and bad, as evidenced by chapter 2 of the Daodejing: Everybody in the world knows the beautiful as being beautiful. Thus, there is already ugliness. Everybody knows the good as being good. Thus, there is that which is not good. That you (presence) and wu (non-presence) generate each other, difficult and easy complement each other, long and short give each other shape, above and below fill each other, tones and voices harmonize with each other, before and after follow each other, is permanent. Therefore, the sage resides with the task of non-action, practices the teaching of nonspeaking. The ten thousand things—he makes them work, but does not initiate them, he makes them act, but does not depend on them, he makes them complete their tasks and does not reside with them. Well, only because he does not reside with them, they do not depart (Moeller 2007: translation modified).

天下皆知美之為美, 斯惡已。皆知善之為善, 斯不善已。故有無相生, 難易相成, 長短相較, 高下相傾, 音聲相和, 前後相隨。是以聖人處無為之事, 行不言之教; 萬 物作焉而不辭, 生而不有。為而不恃, 功成而弗居。夫唯弗居, 是以不去 (Lou 2009: 6–7).

Dao, which sages emulate in their non-action and non-speaking, is that which gives rise to what is considered beautiful and ugly, as well as what is taken to be good and not good. The unnamable Dao is not unnamable because it is too good, somehow out of reach of any name, nor is it a collection (harmonious or otherwise) of the good things. It is rather that from which both what is considered good and what is considered not good come from. So, Dao is not beyond the limits of names, it is rather prior to any linguistic distinction—and here we have a critical difference between the unnameability of Dao and that of Yao and Confucius. In the context of a generic comparison between the Dao of the Daodejing and some interpretations of the Christian God, Hans-Georg Moeller generalizes, Both in the Western Christian tradition and in Daoism the most important “entities”—God and Dao—were described as the ineffable—but on the basis of different paradigms of the sign, the ineffable could have very different meanings (Moeller 2004: 142).

Moeller’s “paradigms of the sign” marks a distinction between the “paradigm of representation” and the “paradigm of presence.” The former is associated with the Christian God, and says that language, as a signifier, re-presents the present which is signified. In this way, as Moeller writes, the more one tries to represent the present, the more the ultimate difference between the two realms of representation and presence becomes obvious. At the same time, the flaw of rep-

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P. D’Ambrosio resentation only confirms the immaculateness of the presence. The more evident it becomes that representation is flawed, the more obvious it is that the present is immaculate … If he [God] could be perfectly represented, he would no longer be himself. By becoming similar to himself, he would also become dissimilar from himself (Moeller 2004: 144).

The unnamable Dao, however, operates on the paradigm of presence, where a different relationship between language and “the most important ‘entity’” is imagined. According to the paradigm of presence both signified (Dao) and signifier (names) are equally present, neither is re-presented. Moeller elaborates, “Dao is not ineffable because it is beyond any adequate representation, but rather because it simply does not belong to the realm of the interplay between names and forms [or actualities]” (Moeller 2004: 145). The difference between the ineffable God and unnamable Dao is that, “while the ineffable within a paradigm of representation tends to be that which cannot be represented, the ineffable within a paradigm of presence tends to be that which is non-present” (Moeller 2004: 142). Dao exists, but it is not present in the same way names are, that is, as something particular. Summarizing his argument with a reference to chapter 11 of the Daodejing Moeller writes: The namelessness of the Dao is not really obscure. It is not the negative namelessness of the seal that disappears when its signs are seen. Given the pattern of representation, God and the present are nameless because they necessarily retreat when there are signs and names. In the Daoist semiotics of presence, names and the nameless, presence and non-presence, coexist. A seal always precedes the impression, but a hub always coexists with the spokes. The Daoist nameless non-presence is not transcendent, it is immanent in the presence of the named (Moeller 2004: 147).

There is some general overlap here between what Hans-Georg Moeller says about an ineffable Christian God and Yao or Confucius as unnamable. They are all, in a sense, beyond words; that is, they are too full, too perfect, or too expansive to be picked out by particular names. But this is, as Moeller notes, exactly not what is said about the Dao in the Daodejing. He Yan’s discussion of Dao is a kind of mixture between the ineffability in the Analects and that of the Daodejing. He employs the language and concepts of the Daodejing, and although much of the basic logic he employs is also from the Daodejing, He Yan’s notion of “completeness” is more reminiscent of the Analects. This is characteristic of Xuanxue thinkers, who are often described as seeking to synthesize (zonghe 綜合), unify (jiehe 結合), or create an interchange (huitong 會 同) between Confucian and Daoist ideas (Shang 2013; Yu 2004; Liu 2014). However, He Yan might simply be expressing what he thinks is the actual relationship between the Daodejing and the Analects—in other words, that they are actually getting at something quite similar, if not the same (cf. D’Ambrosio 2016).

2  “On the Nameless” (Wuming lun 無名論) The second major fragment of He Yan’s work is again found in a quote Zhang Zhan borrows for his commentary on the Liezi and is attached to the following passage:

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The chief minister of Song visited Confucius and asked him: Are you a sage? Confucius replied: How can I claim to be a sage? I am merely a man who has studied widely and remembered much. Were the three kings’ sages? The three kings were good at employing wisdom and courage; whether they were sages I do not know. Were the five emperors’ sages? The five emperors were good at employing humaneness and duty; whether they were sages I do not know. Were the three highnesses sages? The three highnesses were good at adapting themselves to the times; whether they were sages I do not know. The chief minister of Sun said in amazement: Then who do you think is a sage? Confucius’ expression changed for a moment. Among the people of the Western regions there is a sage.10 He does not govern, yet there is no disorder; does not speak, yet is trusted spontaneously; does not reform, yet his influence prevails spontaneously. He is so great that none of his people can give a name to him. I suspect that he is a sage, but I do not know whether he truly is or not. The chief minister thought silently in his heart: Confucius is deceiving me! (Graham 1960: 78; translation modified).

商太宰見孔子曰: 丘聖者歟? 孔子曰: 聖則丘何敢, 然則丘博學多識者也。商太宰 曰:三王聖者歟? 孔子曰: 三王善任智勇者, 聖則丘不知。曰: 五帝聖者歟? 孔子曰: 五帝善任仁義者, 聖則丘弗知。曰: 三皇聖者歟? 孔子曰: 三皇善任因時者, 聖則 丘弗知。商太宰大駭, 曰: 然則孰者為聖? 孔子動容有閒, 曰:西方之人, 有聖者焉, 不治而不亂, 不言而自信, 不化而自行, 蕩蕩乎民無能名焉。丘疑其為聖。弗知 真為聖歟? 真不聖歟?商太宰嘿然心計曰: 孔丘欺我哉 (Yang 2007: 119–122).

In his introduction to this chapter, entitled “Confucius,” A.C. Graham explains the role the character “Confucius” plays here: Early Daoist stories make fun of Confucius, sometimes claim him as an ally. The Liezi, written after Confucianism won official recognition, confines itself to the second course, and criticizes the doctrine through the mouth of its founder. The theme of the present chapter is the futility of the Confucian faith in knowledge (Graham 1960: 74).

As in many places in the Zhuangzi, Confucius is an ally of the Daoists here. In fact, the language of this passage already weaves terminology, phrasing, concepts, and logic from the Analects and Daodejing. The line “he is so great that none of his people can give a name to him” (dangdang hu! Min wuneng ming yan 蕩蕩乎! 民 無能名焉) is actually a direct quote from the “tai bo 泰伯” chapter of the Analects.11 Alone, this quote is quite trivial, but it follows a series of lines paraphrased from chapter 57 of the Daodejing, and is, according to Graham, describing Laozi.12 Chapter 57 of the Daodejing reads: Order the state with correctness. Use the military cunningly. Take over the world by not having any tasks. How do I know it is so? Well; If there are many taboos and prohibitions in the world, then people will become poorer. If the people have many sharp tools, the state and the families will increasingly be in disorder. If the people have a lot of knowledge and sophistication, there will increasingly appear weird things. If the matters of law are increasingly publicized, there will be more robbers and thieves. Therefore, the words of the sage

10  A.C. Graham notes, “the sage in the West is presumably Laozi, who disappeared into the far West where he no doubt realized the ideal society which was impossible in China. But the reference to the sage in the West is mysterious; Buddhists, and later Christians, very naturally took the opportunity to identify him with Buddha or Christ.” Graham 1960: 79. 11  In the above translation this line reads “How expansive was he—the people could not find the name adequate to praise him.” 12  See the note above.

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are: I do not act, and the people change by themselves. I love stillness, and the people correct themselves. I am without task, and the people prosper by themselves. I desire without desire, and the people turn to simplicity by themselves (Moeller 2007: 133; translation modified).

以正治國, 以奇用兵, 以無事取天下。吾何以知其然哉? 以此: 天下多忌諱, 而民 彌貧; 民多利器, 國家滋昏; 人多伎巧, 奇物滋起; 法令滋彰, 盜賊多有。故聖人云: 我無為, 而民自化; 我好靜, 而民自正; 我無事, 而民自富; 我無欲, 而民自樸 (Lou 2009: 149–150).

In the passage from the Liezi, the line preceding the quote from the Analects reads: “He [the sage] does not govern, yet there is no disorder; does not speak, yet is trusted spontaneously; does not reform, yet his influence prevails spontaneously.” This line is paraphrased from the “words of the sage” found here. Coupling this with the Analects already hints at re-understanding the relationship between the Daodejing and Analects, or reading them as expressing similar, or the same, points. After the line that closes the paragraph where the Daodejing is paraphrased and then the Analects is quoted, Zhang Zhan’s commentary inserts a lengthy quote from He Yan’s “On the Nameless” (see Yang 2007: 121). In his translation, Alan Chan (2010: 26–28; translation modified) breaks it down into twelve parts, I follow his structure and translation: [1]. Acclaimed by the people, [things and affairs] then have a certain name. Without such acclaim, they do not have any such name.

為民所譽, 則有名者也; 無譽, 無名者也. [2]. In the case of the sage, however, he assigns a name to what is nameless and assigns acclaim to what is without acclaim. He says the nameless is “Dao” and that which does not have acclaim is “great.”

若夫聖人, 名無名, 譽無譽, 謂無名為道, 無譽為大. [3]. Then, what is nameless can be said to have a name, and what is without acclaim can be said to have acclaim.

則夫無名者, 可以言有名矣; 無譽者, 可以言有譽矣. [4]. But, are they used in the same way as [the names and social recognition (i.e., names) attached to] phenomena that can be acclaimed and named? [That is, in assigning a name to the nameless, is the sage saying that it is the same as objects with definite properties that can be praised and named? The implication is that this cannot be the case, as the argument below will demonstrate].

然與夫可譽可名者, 豈同用哉? [5]. This is analogous to the way in which an entity that does not have anything [i.e., definite properties] is invariably thus [assigned a name as] an entity that has definite properties. [That is, we can describe an entity that does not have any definite properties only in terms of objects that have such properties—literally, “something.” However, this does not entail that the former is of the same category as the latter, as the next two sections will show].

此比於無所有, 故皆有所有矣. [6]. Although [the nameless is mediated by the world of ordinary language and things and is in this sense] in the midst of entities that have definite properties, in principle it still belongs to the category of entities that do not have any such properties and is basically different from entities that have definite properties.

而於有所有之中, 當於無所有相從, 而與夫有所有者不同.

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[7]. Things of the same kind resonate with each other no matter how far apart; things of different kinds always run counter to each other no matter how near. This may be likened to [the relationship between Yin and Yang phenomenon, in which] the Yin in the midst of Yang and the Yang in the midst of Yin will each seek out and follow their own kind. Summer days are a Yang phenomenon; and yet the summer nights [despite being in the same season as—and hence “near”—the summer day] and the winter day far away belong together to the category of Yin. Winter days are a Yin phenomenon; yet the winter dawn and the summer day far away are both in the same Yang category. Both are different from what is near to them and the same as what is far from them. If we ­understand fully why they are different in the one case and the same in the other, then we will recognize [the truth of] the discourse on the nameless [presented here].

同類無遠而相應, 異類無近而不13相違。譬如陰中之陽, 陽中之陰, 各以物類 自相求從。夏日為陽, 而夕夜遠與冬日共為陰; 冬日為陰, 而朝晝遠與夏日同 為陽; 皆異於近而同於遠也。詳此異同, 而後無名之論可知矣. [8]. Now, what was the reason that brought this about [i.e., why did the sage assign the name “Dao” to the nameless]?

凡所以至於此者何哉? [9]. Dao refers precisely to that which does not have anything. From the conception of the world, [what we can name and perceive] are only objects with definite properties. That [the sage] nonetheless speaks of it [i.e., the nameless] as Dao is due to the fact that phenomena are able to function with regularity [as if traveling back and forth on a roadway, because of Dao’s] not having any definite properties.

夫道者 , 惟無所有也。自天地已來 , 皆有所有矣。然猶謂之道者 , 以其 能複用無所有也 . [10]. Thus, although [Dao] dwells in the realm of names, its nameless image remains submerged, in the same way that a distant [Yin] substance is [buried deep] within a body of Yang and we forget that it has other yin kinds far away. [That is, in view of the analysis presented in sections 5–7 above, although Dao operates in the world of nameable objects, it remains categorically distinct but hidden, and its true nameless ness is easily overlooked or misunderstood. A Yin presence remains what it is, despite the fact that it is embedded in a predominately Yang domain].

故雖處有名之域, 而沒其無名之象; 由以在陽之遠體, 而忘其自有陰之遠類也. [11]. Xiahou Xuan said, “heaven and earth operate in accordance with what is self-so. The sage functions in accordance with what is self-so.”

夏侯玄曰: 天地以自然運, 聖人以自然用. [12]. What is self-so is Dao. Dao is fundamentally nameless. Thus, Laozi said that he only forced himself to assign a name to it. Confucius praised the sage-king Yao as “far-­ reaching” [whose beneficent accomplishment] no one could name. Later in the same passage, he said that Yao was toweringly majestic in his accomplishment. In this instance, he was forcing himself to give Yao a name, taking a term that is commonly recognized by everyone in the world and applying it to Yao. How could it be otherwise that Yao’s accomplishment had a name and Confucius still maintained that no one would name it? Precisely because Yao’s accomplishment is nameless one can, therefore, justifiably choose from all the names in the world to name it. But is that really its name?

 This “bu 不” or “not” is missing in the translation. It seems to be a mistake in the copying of the text since it disrupts otherwise symmetrical sentences. For this reason, Chan (among others) leaves it out (cf. Chan 2010: 47–48). 13

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P. D’Ambrosio This should be sufficient to make clear [the nature of the nameless]; if anyone still fails to comprehend this, it would be like someone who sees the loftiness of Mount Tai but says that the original qi-energy is not vast and overflowing.

自然者, 道也。道本無名, 故老氏曰: 強為之名。仲尼稱堯蕩蕩無能名焉, 下云 巍巍成功, 則強為之名, 取世所知而稱耳, 豈有名而更當云無能名焉者邪? 夫 唯無名, 故可德遍以天下之名而名之。然豈其名也哉? 惟是喻而終莫悟, 是觀 泰山崇崛而謂元氣不浩芒者也.

Wang Baoxuan has argued that the general gist of “On the Nameless” differs from “On Dao.” Despite what might be inferred from the title, what we have from “On the Nameless” is more focused on how the sages can conduct themselves in accordance with Dao than the namelessness of Dao. Wang writes that “during the Han and Jin periods there was a type of popular understanding according to which the Daojing 道經 [from the Daodejing] was mainly taking to explicate Dao itself and the Dejing 德經 [from the Daodejing] was taken to discuss how to be in accordance with Dao” (Wang 1987: 132). However, before progressing to this point it is important to use “On the Nameless” to develop a fuller view on He Yan’s conception of Dao. The first section above remarks on how names develop. When something is acclaimed or noticed by people it is given a name. Things that escape attention are nameless, or their names are unknown. This is largely true, for example, of the “break-away bands” that serve as a tamper-evident band on screw caps for bottles or jars. While almost everyone knows what the small ring of plastic that is left after the seal of a water bottle top is broken is, including its function and basic properties, yet because it is generally not an object of attention many people do not know it is called a “break-away band.” If somehow these rings of plastic became important, if they were the object of attention, then their name would be known. The second section develops on the first, saying that sages are able to name what is nameless, and acclaim what lacks acclaim. The nameless is that which allows things to be named. Imagining this in a more concrete case we can think of a truly good friend. We may call this person “trustworthy,” “caring,” and/or “loyal,” but the great friend is someone who is more than any of these qualities. These characteristics only pick out particular, and thereby limited, aspects of the real friend. Similarly, Dao remains nameless because only its particular affects are described. Dao itself, like an amazing friend, is difficult to define, and its exactly qualities are impossible to confine in words. The use of Dao to describe the nameless is a reference to the first chapter of the Daodejing and “great” to describe the acclaimlessness relates to the “greatness” of the unnamable Yao and Confucius. Sections three, four, and five argue that Dao may be assigned a name by sages, and thus a generalized way of pointing it out and praising it can exist, but this does not mean it is like other namable things. Dao remains in its own fundamentally indescribable category. It is not constituted by any things or “properties.” Above in Moeller’s discussion of the difference between God and Dao we have seen exactly what a “property-less” Dao looks like. In section five we read, “an entity that does not have anything” (wusuoyou 無所有), i.e., definite properties. This line has been

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the focus of much scholarly attention, mainly because the suo 所 can be read different ways. According to Alan Chan it is simply added for stylistic concerns (Chan 2014: 28), though it has been suggested that it hints at Buddhist influence (Chan 2014: 49). Others, like Xu Jianliang, read this line as crucially marking the split between the two types of “having” (you 有). The first is having a name, which, in sections two and three, is given to Dao as well (Xu 2003: 111). But the having that is associated with Dao is categorically distinct, as is explained in section six. Section six reminds the reader that while Dao may be named and acclaimed like other things, this does not mean it falls into the same category of other named and acclaimed things. The point is echoed again in section seven, which discusses how similar things resonate even if they are far apart, and different things go against one another even if they are near. Dao is near all things, it is their generator and it is what allows them to be what they are, yet it is distinct from them in not having properties and being outside the realm of names. Returning to the second section, section eight asks why the sage names the nameless Dao. In section nine we are told that sages speak of it, and call it Dao, so as to refer to the regularity of things in their functioning (fu yong 復用).14 Section ten reiterates what was described in sections five through seven, spelling out that Dao, although named, is not like other namable things. In section eleven, a quote from Xiahou Xuan 夏侯玄 (209–254 CE) introduces “self-so,” which is central in understanding the Daodejing. The world, literally “heaven and earth,” is said to function on “self-so,” which is closely related to chapter 25 of the Daodejing. According to Xu Jianliang, Xiahou Xuan’s comment about the sages functioning in accordance with self-so demonstrates that the sages “follow” or “model” the world (Xu 2003: 123). Regardless of whether “follow” or “model” should be introduced, Xiahou Xuan’s quote is best read in reference to the most famous line in chapter 25 of the Daodejing: Humans follow the earth, the earth follows heaven, heaven follows Dao, and Dao follows its self-so (Moeller 2007: 63; translation modified).

人法地, 地法天, 天法道, 道法自然 (Lou 2009: 64).

“On the Nameless” then becomes, as noted by Wang Baoxuan, a discussion of the sage modeling Dao. In section twelve the namelessness of Dao, which has hitherto been largely related to the Daodejing in ways that reflect “On Dao,” is coupled with Confucius and the Analects. Much of the details of this relationship have already been discussed in the previous section on “On Dao.” In fact, what He Yan says here about Confucius, Yao, and namelessness largely serves to prove what was only hinted at in “On Dao.”

 This character, “fu 復,” often translated as “returning,” appears sixteen times in the Daodejing. It is often coupled with “gui 歸” which also means “return.”

14

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3  Conclusion Scholarship during the Wei-Jin epoch is undoubtedly among the most exciting and innovative in Chinese history. Much of what we find in Song and Ming “Neo-­ Confucianism” is borrowed, both in style and content, from Wei-Jin scholarship. Indeed, the entire commentarial tradition is significantly transformed by the writers considered in this Companion. Insofar as Xuanxue can be taken as a movement, it represents reimagining the relationship between philosophical themes found in “Confucian” and “Daoist” texts. Sometimes seen as synthesizing, unifying, or creating an interchange, Xuanxue might be more appropriately read as honestly believing that the records of Confucius, Laozi, and Zhuangzi (regardless of whether they existed) are really getting at the same “Dao.” What differs is how their teachings have been interpreted, what Guo Xiang 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE) later calls “footprints” (ji 跡), and that which made them was really quite similar. This is a provocative and inspiring alternative to the “disputing of Dao” in pre-Qin thought (cf. Graham 1989). Despite the relative brevity of the surviving selections of He Yan’s work, his contribution to Xuanxue remains significant. Socio-politically, he had a pronounced effect on Wang Bi’s (extremely short) career—which will be discussed elsewhere in this Companion. Philosophically, even the short sections of “On Dao” and “On the Nameless” that we have access to are extremely rich. They intricately weave thick references to the Daodejing and Lunyu to discuss namelessness, the sage, and Dao. While these topics are not always revisited with such rigor, the approach He Yan takes is generally shared by Wang Bi and Guo Xiang. In addition to inspiring reflections themselves, He Yan’s “On Dao” and “On the Nameless” would also leave their mark on the history of philosophy in China more generally.

Bibliography Ames, Roger and Henry Rosemont, trans. 1998. The Analects of Confucius: A Philosophical Translation. New York: Ballantine Books. Chan, Alan K.L. 2010. “Sage Nature and the Logic of Namelessness: Reconstructing He Yan’s Explication of Dao.” In Alan K.L. Chan and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, 23–53. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chan, Alan K.L., 2014. “Neo-Daoism.” Available Online: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ neo-daoism/. Chen, Guying 陳鼓應. 2008. New Theories on Laozi and Zhuangzi 老莊新論. Beijing: Shangwu Yinshuguan. Cheng, Shude 程樹德. 1997. Collected Annotations on Lunyu 論語集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. D’Ambrosio, Paul. 2016. “Wei-Jin Period Xuanxue (Neo-Daoism): Reworking the Relationship between Confucian and Daoist Themes.” Philosophy Compass, 11.11: 621-631. D’Ambrosio, Paul, Hans-Rudolf Kantor, and Hans-Georg Moeller. 2018. “Incongruent Names: A Theme in the History of Chinese Philosophy.” Dao: Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 17.3: 1-26.

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D’Ambrosio, Paul. 2019. “Wang Bi’s Commentary on the Analects: A Confucian-Daoist Critique of Effable Morality.” Philosophy East and West, 69.2: 357-375. Dong, Zhengmin 董拯民. 2016. Commentary and Annotations on the Analects 論語注疏. Beijing: China Zhigong Publishing House. Fu, Peirong 傅佩榮. 2012. Fu Peirong’s Interpretation and Explanation of the Lunyu 論語傅佩榮 譯解. Beijing: Oriental Publishing Center. Graham, A.C., trans. 1960. The Book of Lieh-Tzu. New York: Columbia University Press. Graham, A.C. 1989. Disputers of the Tao. Chicago: Open Court. Legge, James, trans. 2017. The Analects. Overland Park: Digiread.com Publishing. Liu, Jidong 劉季冬. 2014. The Intercommunication Between Confucianism and Daoism: The Structure of Thought in Wang Bi’s Commentary on the Laozi 儒道會通:王弼老子注之思想建 構. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 2009. Commentary and Collated Annotations on Laozi’s Daodejing 老子道德 經注校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Moeller, Hans-Georg. 2004. Daoism Explained: From the Dream of the Butterfly to the Fishnet Allegory. Chicago: Open Court Publishing. Moeller, Hans-Georg, trans. 2007. Daodejing: The New, Highly Readable Translation of the Life-Changing Ancient Scripture Formerly Known as the Daodejing. Chicago: Open Court Publishing. Shang, Jianfei 尚建飛. 2013. A Study of Wei-Jin Xuanxue Moral Philosophy 魏晉玄學道德哲學 研究. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Wang, Baoxuan 王葆玹. 1987. Zhengshi Era Xuanxue 正始玄學. Jinan: Qilu Book Publishing. Wang, Deyou 王德有. 2010. Wei-Jin Xuanxue: Leisurely Living Hermits 魏晉玄學: 高蹈逸的閒 適人生. Shanghai: Oriental Publishing Center. Wang, Xiaoyi 王曉毅. 1996. Wang Bi’s Critical Commentary 王弼評傳. Nanjing: Nanjing Daxue Chubanshe. Xu, Jianliang 許建良. 2003. Wei-Jin Xuanxue: Research on Ethical Thinking 魏晉玄學: 倫理思 想研究. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Yang, Bojun 楊伯峻. 2007. Collected Annotations on Liezi 列子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康. 2004. The History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學史. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Paul D’Ambrosio is fellow of the Institute of Modern Chinese Thought and Culture, Associate Professor of Chinese philosophy and Dean of the Center for Intercultural Research, all at East China Normal University in Shanghai, China. He is the author of 真假之间 (2021), co-author (with Hans-Georg Moeller) of Profile Yourself (2021) and Genuine Pretending (2017), and editor (with Michael Sandel) of Encountering China (2018). Additionally, he has authored over 70 articles, chapters, and reviews, and is translator of over a dozen books on Chinese philosophy.

Chapter 10

He Yan’s Collected Explanations on the Analects Yuet Keung Lo

1  Introduction He Yan 何晏 (d. 249 CE) was a highly regarded thinker for his metaphysical explorations of Dao 道, which focused on discovering and analyzing the fundamental nature of existence and its ethical and political applications. Modern scholars almost unanimously and correctly credit him and his junior, Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE), for spurring a new trend of philosophical thinking retrospectively identified as Xuanxue 玄學.1 This endeavor marked a radical departure from the Han dynasty’s Yin-Yang 陰陽 correlative philosophy which was grounded on the cosmology of primal force. Unlike this speculative cosmology, He Yan and Wang Bi’s philosophical inquiry into the nature of the fundament that makes the myriad things possible was primarily analytical. Their philosophic concerns, analytical methodology, and exegetical interests in the Classic of Changes 易經, the Daodejing 道德經, and the Analects 論語 continued to gain wide currency after their deaths even as their metaphysical philosophy was condemned as “vacuous” as early as the fourth century. Indeed, their work was even held accountable for the downfall of the short-lived Western Jin dynasty (265–317 CE). He Yan was well-known for the Collected Explanations on the Analects (Lunyu Jijie 論語集解), which he co-edited.2 In a sense, it was an anthology of commentaries on the Confucian text by scholars of Classical Learning from Han-Wei times. Many modern scholars concur that the Collected Explanations illustrates He Yan’s

 For more, see Lo 2019.  Guo Xiang also wrote a commentary on the Analects. For more, see Richard Lynn’s chapter in this Companion. 1 2

Y. K. Lo (*) Department of Chinese Studies, National University of Singapore, Singapore, Singapore © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_10

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Xuanxue reading of the Confucian text, but this is in fact a questionable claim. This chapter will argue that He Yan was probably the principal editor of the anthology and that, in light of the commentarial practices in the Han period, his exegetical interest was primarily pedagogical rather than philosophical, unlike Wang Bi’s commentary to the same work called Dispelling Doubts on the Analects (Lunyu Shiyi 論語釋疑). He Yan’s Daoistic interpretation of some passages in the Analects does not, therefore, justify the misnomer of Xuanxue as such thinking was articulated elsewhere in his works.

2  He Yan: The Principal Editor of the Collected Explanations on the Analects Contemporary accounts of He Yan tend to be critical, censuring him for being one of the major supporters of the Cao-Wei regime (220–265  CE). Little credit was accorded him for his philosophical breakthrough and political reforms, the latter of which remains largely unknown today. This is not surprising as these records were penned either by his opponents within the Cao-Wei regime, or by supporters of the Sima family who eventually ascended the throne. Nonetheless, He Yan’s intellectual prowess was recognized because it was widely esteemed, though his actual achievements did not receive the same ubiquitous regard. When he was barely two years old, He Yan’s mother was taken as a concubine by Cao Cao 曹操 (155–220 CE), who at the time was the de facto ruler of the crumbling Han empire. By the time He Yan was seven, Cao Cao was so enchanted by his intelligence that he wished to adopt him, but the young boy resisted. He drew a circle on the ground and stayed inside, calling it the “Shelter of the He Family.” It is not clear how long He Yan remained in the Cao household, but Cao Pi 曹丕 (c. 187–226 CE), Cao Cao’s second son, resented the intrusion of this outsider and hated him for dressing himself as if he were the crown prince. He called the young child a “fake son” (jiazi 假子).3 Eventually Cao Cao sent He Yan back to his own family (Xu 1987: 322–323).4 Despite this, Cao Pi’s hatred of He Yan continued well into adulthood. When Cao Pi usurped the Han throne and founded the Wei dynasty as Emperor Wen 魏文 帝 (r. 220–226 CE), he denied He Yan all positions in the court. He Yan later occupied only insignificant posts during Cao Rui’s 曹叡 reign (i.e., Emperor Ming 魏明 帝, r. 226–239  CE), even though by then He Yan had already married Princess Jinxiang, daughter of Cao Cao. Emperor Ming condemned He Yan and his associates as “superficial and frivolous” (fuhua 浮華), presumably due to their lifestyle and philosophical interest in metaphysics. It was not until Cao Fang 曹芳 (r. 239–254 CE) was designated to be emperor at the age of seven that He Yan was finally appointed Secretariat of Personnel. Upon  See He Yan zhuan 何晏傳 (Biography of He Yan) in Chen 1982: 1.9.292.  This episode was not included in any of the surviving records about He Yan and it appears that it was excluded because it could compromise the condemning image of He Yan portrayed in them. 3 4

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his appointment, he began to institute political reforms. During this period, he and four other officials also completed the Collected Explanations on the Analects and submitted it to the throne. Though its co-editorship is plainly documented, the work was already attributed to He Yan alone by the Tang dynasty. Qing dynasty scholars suspected that He Yan came to enjoy the full credit because he was a son-in-law of the Cao family. While this may well be the case, whether He Yan was the actual editor is worth a careful investigation. Recently, John Makeham tried to demonstrate that there is not enough evidence to establish He Yan as the main editor and that this would preclude him being a Xuanxue thinker, even if the Collected Explanations proved to be a vehicle of Xuanxue thought.5 More critically, Makeham believes that if He Yan’s role as an editor is questionable, it “undermines the legitimacy of using [his] supposed beliefs to reconstruct the hermeneutic employed in editing Collected Explanations. The implication of this finding is that analysis of the philosophical outlook of Collected Explanations must largely be limited to the internal evidence of that text” (Makeham 2003: 23). As sound as Makeham’s belief and logic is, He Yan could still be principally responsible for editing the commentary even if he indeed subscribed to Xuanxue beliefs. There is no necessary connection between an editor’s personal philosophy and the work he edited. It is crucial to know who would want a new official commentary on the Analects in a traitorous time of political rivalry. It is unlikely that Cao Fang himself would have commissioned it; he was merely seven or eight years old when he was enthroned and seventeen when He Yan was executed. Nor are any of the other four alleged editors of the Collected Explanations probable candidates. They were Sun Yong 孫 邕 (dates unknown), Zheng Chong 鄭沖 (d. 274 CE), Cao Xi 曹羲 (d. 249 CE), and Xun Yi 荀顗 (d. 274 CE). Nothing much of significance is known about them but, ironically, this may be sufficient to suggest that they would not propose producing a new commentary on the Analects. At some point between 178–184 CE, when Sun was young, he was apprenticed to a religious Daoist priest named Wang Heping 王和平, who was keen on concocting elixirs in hope of achieving physical immortality. When Wang presumably became a transcendent by liberating himself from his physical body, Sun regretted that he did not take the elixirs and books that Wang left behind before he bade his master farewell. Despite his successful if lackluster political career under Emperor Wen of Wei, Sun was not recognized for his learning of any kind. Similarly, Zheng Chong and Xun Yi also enjoyed a prosperous career without making any real impact in strengthening the Wei court. They either held counselling positions or served as personal attendants to Cao Fang. It was no coincidence that neither Zheng nor Xun were executed when the Sima family took control in 249 CE, even though they were important core members of the Cao regime. Zheng even personally “composed” and submitted the document that legitimized and shamelessly glorified the “moral abdication” (shanrang 禪讓) of the last emperor of Wei’s throne to the usurper Sima Yan 司馬炎 (r. 266–290  CE).6

 See Makeham 2003: 23–47.  It was at least rumoured that Ruan Ji 阮籍 (210-263 CE) was the ghost-writer of the document (Xu 1987: 135). 5 6

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Significantly, both Zheng and Xun were able to ingratiate themselves to the new regime so that they could continue to enjoy high-ranking, if only honorary positions, and a peaceful death. Except for Cao Xi who had composed a collection of literary writings in five scrolls, the other three editors did not seem to have any interest in leaving any written works, a behavior in keeping with their evasive lifestyle in politics and personal conduct. It seems odd that they would even bother to edit a new commentary on the Analects in such a treacherous time. By contrast, He Yan was keen on pushing for political reforms and indeed instituted many even though little is known about it today. Even his enemies acknowledged that he was aspiring and capable, though they accused him of favoritism in the recruitment of officials. In fact, the preparation of the Collected Explanations was probably part of his reform.7 In 230 CE, ten years after the Wei regime was founded, Emperor Ming lamented in an edict that because of the chaos resulting from continual warfare, learning in the Classics had been abandoned, and consequently the younger generation did not follow their teachings. He wondered if it was not because young people lacked instruction on the Classics and officials were not recruited on account of their virtues. He thus decreed that court gentlemen be recruited immediately who exceled in the examination on one of the Classics and were capable of governing the people. Moreover, he ordered that those be discharged who were “superficial and frivolous” in their pursuits and did not cultivate the fundamentals of the Way (Chen 1982: 1.3.97). The declining quality of education and scholar-officials was evidently a pressing concern of grave importance, and this situation did not improve after Emperor Ming passed away. During Cao Fang’s reign, Liu Fu 劉馥 reiterated the same problem in a memorial to the emperor and proposed to reform the Imperial Academy in accordance with the Han system (Shen 1974: 2.14.356). The compilation of the Collected Explanations came at the most opportune time and should not be dismissed as pure coincidence. Since Han times, members of the imperial family, including the heir-apparent, were routinely taught the Classic of Filial Devotion (Xiaojing 孝經) and the Analects (Lunyu 論語) in their childhood.8 It follows that He Yan would recognize the importance of educating the young emperor, and the Analects would doubtlessly be one of the first texts for instruction as was customary. In line with his reformist thinking in politics, it is no surprise that He Yan would want to come up with a new interpretation of the Analects. The invitation of the other editors to the project was likely a calculated political move as they were close to the emperor; they were in effect his counsellors and even tutors on a daily basis.9 Further, they all appeared to be senior  According to the History of the Song Dynasty (Songshu 宋書), Cao Fang became a diligent young man who studied the Classics and lectured on them himself. Every time after he finished lecturing, he would order that sacrifice be paid to Confucius in the Imperial Academy, though he did not do it himself. See Shen 1974: 2.14.367. 8  For princely education in the Analects in the Han period, see Csikszentmihalyi in Van Norden 2002: 134–162. 9  Zheng Chong in fact tutored Cao Mao 曹髦 in the Documents when he succeeded Cao Fang to the throne at the age of thirteen. 7

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to He Yan in age and in administrative experience. As a gracious gesture of deference, it makes sense that He would gladly put them ahead of himself in the Preface to the Collected Explanations even if, in all likelihood, they did not contribute anything to the final work. It should be noted that two years after he came to the throne in the second month of 241 CE, Cao Fang lectured on the Analects,10 and it is quite possible he used the Collected Explanations. If this were the case, we can infer that the commentary would have been completed.

3  The Collected Explanations: A New Norm of Exegesis In Han times, the Analects and the Classic of Filial Devotion were primers on moral education for young children, and by learning from these texts, children also acquired literacy. This provided them the foundation for studying the Confucian Classics in the future. No later than Kong Anguo 孔安國 (died ca. 100 BCE) in Emperor Wu’s 武 (r. 141–87 BCE) reign, commentaries on the Analects typically divided its unpunctuated text into sections (zhang 章) and sentences (ju 句), provided philological glosses on individual graphs, identified personal and place names, and explained technical terms and historical events mentioned or alluded to in the text. Occasionally, an exegete might elucidate the overall meaning or import of a single line or an entire chapter. Kong’s commentary was called Glosses and Explanations on the Analects (Lunyu Xunshuo 論語訓說). Another such commentary on the Analects was by Bao Xian 包咸 (6 BCE-65 CE), a scholar of New-Text Learning. Employed by Emperor Guangwu 漢光武帝 (r. 25–57 CE) of the Later-Han to tutor his heir-apparent on the Analects, Bao prepared an exegesis for the young prince called Analects in Sections and Sentences (Lunyu Zhangju 論語章句).11 This descriptive and practical title characterized the pedagogic rather than interpretive spirit of Han commentaries on the text. Judging from the titles of all the commentaries and their contained quotations cited in the Collected Explanations, it can be confirmed that they share the same pedagogic nature as exhibited in Kong’s commentary, though their hermeneutic emphasis might vary. As such, the Analects was not meant to be a medium for the exegete to develop his own philosophy. Indeed, as far as we know today, no such attempt was ever made. As is well known, the unique purpose of the Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals 春秋公羊傳 was to reveal and elaborate on the “subtle words and profound significance” (weiyan dayi 微言大義) veiled in the source text, which was easily  Cao Fang, then about ten years old, probably needed guidance, and He Yan might have been his assistant on the occasion. Shen 1974: 2.14.485. The History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書) states that Cao Fang later lectured on the Documents in 243  CE and on the Book of Rites in 245 CE. See Fang 1974: 4.33.991–992. 11  Bao’s son, Fu, also tutored Emperor He 漢和帝 (r. 88–106 CE) on the Analects, presumably using his father’s commentary. 10

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amenable to speculative interpretations. Although He Xiu’s 何休 (129–182  CE) Interpretations and Glosses of the Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals 春秋公羊經傳解詁 aimed at illuminating the elusive messages implicit in the Annals in light of the Gongyang Commentary, it explicitly stated its adherence to the original text of the Commentary and its intended meaning (benyi 本意). In fact, He Xiu complained that earlier explanations of the Gongyang Commentary were arbitrary and contradicted not only its intent but that of the Annals itself. To establish a critical recension of the Gongyang Commentary, he consulted the two existing authoritative versions. His own resulting commentary consciously refuted the problematic explanations and repudiated the sections-and-­ sentences style of exegesis, which was the norm for civil service examination. More importantly, He Xiu even went so far as to attribute the weakening prestige of the Gongyang Commentary to the fault of his teacher Dai Hong 戴宏 because he thought Dai lacked a proper understanding of the Zuo Commentary, a rival text that was seeking the state’s sanction that the Gongyang Commentary enjoyed.12 Yet, He Xiu was only interested in defending the legitimacy of the Gongyang Commentary as the best explanation of the Spring and Autumn Annals over the Zuo Commentary and the Guliang Commentary 穀梁傳; he was not concerned about court politics and the petty sectarianism among zhangju commentaries. Not being a Scholar of Erudition at court, He Xiu need not adhere to the rigid zhangju scholasticism, yet even with this freedom, he did not attempt to formulate a philosophy of history in his commentary. Similarly, Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (127–200  CE) was celebrated for his syncretic approach to exegesis on the Confucian Classics, breaking down the sectarian boundaries between the so-called Old-Text and New-Text Learning. This trend of non-­ sectarian style of exegesis became the new norm in the late second century to the point where it was implemented in the commentaries on the Analects. The extant, if incomplete, Annotations on the Analects by Zheng Xuan sufficiently demonstrates this. For example, in Analects 10.2, He Yan quotes Ma Rong’s gloss on “chuji” (踧 踖) as “looking respectful.” Yet, it is identical with Zheng Xuan’s annotation on the same term, which was quoted by Li Xian 李賢 (654–684 CE) in his commentary to the History of the Later-Han Dynasty (Hou Hanshu 後漢書) (Fan 1971: 1.2.102). It seems clear that Zheng Xuan consulted existing commentaries on the Analects and would incorporate what he deemed worthy, much like what we see in the Collected Explanations.13 Meanwhile, He Xiu also annotated the Analects and the Classic of Filial Devotion. Judging from his exegetical principles for the Gongyang

 He Xiu’s Preface to his commentary can be found in Ruan 1976, volume 5: 4.  There are other similar examples and at least one of them involves a gloss credited to Kong Anguo. Some scholars consider the discrepancy to be misidentification of sources and attribute it to He Yan’s oversight. While this is not entirely impossible, it assumes that Zheng Xuan wrote his own annotations and ignored the growing popularity of the new norm in exegesis.

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Commentary, there is good reason to believe his approach to the two annotations would be similar14 and consistent with Zheng’s syncretic style. The Collected Explanations quotes from five commentaries of the Han period and three from He Yan’s own time. The five Han commentators were Kong Anguo, Bao Xian, Mr. Zhou 周氏, Ma Rong 馬融 (79–166 CE), and Zheng Xuan, while his three contemporaries were: Zhou Shenglie 周生烈, Wang Su 王肅 (195–256 CE), and Chen Qun 陳群 (d. 237 CE), brother-in-law of Xun Yi 荀顗, who was one of the editors listed for the Collected Explanations. Evidently, He Yan was prudent in his selections as he did not quote them equally. Since his sources are no longer available for comparison except Zheng Xuan’s annotations (albeit apparently a dissimilar version from the one He Yan consulted) whose fragments still survive today, the criteria for his selections is not clear. Nor is it apparent that the difference in Old-Text Learning and New-Text Learning was relevant and significant concerning, in particular, the understanding of the Analects. In its historical milieu, the Collected Explanations was a new endeavor in the Han-established commentarial tradition. No preceding commentary on any Confucian Classic was given such a title. The earliest work of Collected Explanations (jijie 集解) known today is Ying Shao’s 應劭 (140–206 CE) Phonetic and Semantic Glosses (jijie yinyi 集解音義) on the History of the Han Dynasty (Hanshu 漢書), which, coincidentally, was also from the late Han.15 Although the work is long lost and its exact form of annotation is unknown, its collective nature is evident. That it was a commentary on a work of history indicates that the trend of collective and eclectic exegesis was widespread. It comes as no surprise that He Yan’s Collected Explanations followed the trend and adopted the nomenclature for his commentary as well. In his Preface to the Collected Explanations, He Yan deliberately differentiated the nomenclature for each of the eight commentaries he cited. His reasons may not be readily apparent to us because the exact form of all these commentaries are no longer available today, but it is worthwhile to examine what his reasoning might have been.16 The eight commentaries cited were called by four different titles: xunshuo 訓說, zhangju 章句, yishuo 義說, and zhu 注. Xunshuo appeared in the earliest 14  He Xiu also wrote commentaries on the Classic of Filial Devotion, the Analects, as well as fortune-telling arts of “wind quarters” (fengjiao qifen 風角七分). He was famous for not blindly adhering to the letters of the text yet understood the original meaning of the Gongyang Commentary. He also defended the Commentary against its rival texts of the Zuo Commentary and the Guliang Commentary. See Fan 1971: 9.69b.2583. 15  John Makeham falsely claims that “the editors [of the Collected Explanations] pioneered the collected commentary genre.” See Makeham 2003: 51. 16  Even when Fan Ye 范曄 (398–445 CE) wrote about the scholars of Confucian Classics in the Later-Han, he was careful enough to differentiate the various forms of exegesis still in practice. He said, “Du Lin 杜林 (d. 47 CE) of Fufeng transmitted the Old-Text version of the Shangshu 尚書 (Documents), Jia Kui from the same commandery composed a xun gloss commentary to it, Ma Rong wrote a zhuan 傳 commentary to it, and finally Zheng Xuan annotated it with a zhujie 注解 commentary. As a result, the Old-Text version of Shangshu gained prominence everywhere” (Fan 1971: 9.79a.2566).

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commentary (by Kong Anguo) and consists of semantic glosses and explanations. The scholarly consensus on zhangju, as John Makeham summarizes, is that “once the section and sentence divisions in a piece of writing had been determined, the meaning of individual sentences would be explained by appending a commentary immediately after the sentence(s); a summary of the import of each section would similarly be appended after each section.”17 Like xunshuo, zhangju was not interpretive in nature. Zhu literally means to convey water from a source into a designated area; it had nothing to do with book learning or philosophical interpretation. No commentary was called zhu in the Former-Han period and as a nomenclature for writing, it first appeared in the records of the emperor’s daily activities in the early years of the Later-Han. Apparently, the records were called this because they transcribed the emperor’s activities into writing, and in recording the activities, the chronicler might need to annotate them when necessary. The annotations served to explain the details of the subject matter and daily activities and were not meant to reflect the chronicler’s private judgment on the activities in the records. The historian Ban Gu 班固 (32–92  CE), for example, was commanded by Emperor Ming (r. 57–75  CE) to organize the records (zhuji 注記) of his father, Emperor Guangwu. During the reign of Emperor Huan 漢桓帝 (r. 146–168 CE), Fu Wuji 伏無忌 assembled and edited a miscellany of accounts past and present and titled his work Fu Hou zhu 伏侯注 or “Annotations of Marquis Fu” (Fan 1971: 4.26.898). Fu’s own labor was highlighted in the title of the work but it is not clear if his job went beyond documentation since the work is no longer extant. Towards the end of the second century, zhu was in use for commentaries on Confucian and Daoist works and Ma Rong and Zheng Xuan typically titled their commentarial work as such. Indeed, Zheng’s zhu on the Analects was cited 105 times in the Collected Explanations. The semantic root of zhu suggests that the purpose of the zhu commentary was meant to inspire or hint at a direction toward a proper understanding of the text in question (Duan 2000: 555). In this sense, zhu intended to reveal the commentator’s interpretations of a text. He Yan noted that in previous times, students were to transmit their teachers’ explanations, although there might be different readings among different teachers, the students would not attempt an adjudicatory interpretation (xunjie 訓解) (Huang 2013: 13).18 But adjudication became popular later on and proliferated in his time. Although the titles of the three contemporary commentaries He Yan cited were not known, it is little coincidence that all were called yishuo 義說 (elucidation of significance); indeed, it is suggestive of the commentator’s interpretive elucidation that was common in the early third century. They are what He Yan called adjudicatory interpretations. In spite of their differing nomenclature and, perhaps, original purposes in their exegetical composition, the eight commentaries look no different as they were  Makeham 2003: 373.  Indeed, Wang Chong in the late first century already complained that “Confucian scholars today are fond of trusting their teachers and endorsing what came from the past, and they dedicated themselves to practice what they learned without ever knowing how to raise any questions 世儒學 者, 好信師而是古, 以為賢聖所言皆無非, 專精講習, 不知難問.” See Liu 1958: 181.

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presented in the Collected Explanations and serve the common purpose of glossing and explaining the Analects while leaving room for the reader to contemplate without dictating its “correct” meaning. Apparently, that is the reason why the Collected Explanations was called as such with the suggestion of its diversity.19 That the nomenclature of jijie became a commonplace in the commentarial literature since the Wei period, it can lead us to overlook its trailblazing significance in shaping commentarial development.20 To understand the distinctive virtue of jie 解 adjudication in the commentary, it is helpful to contrast it with zhangju. As will be shown later, He Yan probably wanted to integrate zhangju explanations with jie adjudication in his Collected Explanations. He cited two zhangju commentaries by Bao Xian and Mr. Zhou, and for some of the chapters in the Analects he used Bao Xian’s exclusively. Take Analects 1.3 for instance. It reads: “The Master said, ‘It is rare, indeed, for a man with cunning words and an ingratiating face to be benevolent’” (Lau 1979: 59).21 Bao’s commentary says: “Qiao yan means to make one’s words and speech pleasing. Ling se means to make one’s looks fawning. Both [acts] are meant to please other people, thus [one who] acts like this is seldom to be possessed of humaneness 巧言, 好其言語。令色, 善其顏色。皆欲令人悅之, 少能有仁也” (Huang 2013: 7). Bao took both qiao 巧 and ling 令 to be causative verbs rather than adjectives as they are taken today. Whether or not Bao’s reading is correct is another matter, and he was correct, the reading itself exemplifies the straightforward style of the zhangju commentary.22 Similarly, in Analects 6.24: “The Master said, ‘At one stroke Qi can be made into a Lu, and Lu, at one stroke, can be made to attain the Way’” (Lau 1979: 84). Bao commented: “This says Qi and Lu enjoyed the lingering influence of Duke Tai and Duke of Zhou respectively. Duke Tai was a worthy person and Duke of Zhou was a sage, so although their states had become weakened, yet with the restoration of an enlightened ruler, Qi could be made into a Lu and Lu could be made [to go back to the time] when the Way prevailed 言齊, 魯有大公, 周公之餘

 He Yan evidently removed as much as he found inappropriate interpretive commentaries that explicitly revealed the view of the exegete he quoted. This is what John Makeham calls “commentarial control” and he illustrates it very well with the example of Zheng Xuan. See Makeham 2003: 53–58. 20  Eight works entitled jijie on virtually each of the Confucian Classics including at least four on the Analects were listed in the “Bibliographical Treatise” in the History of Sui Dynasty (Suishu 隋 書). Of course, the record was far from complete as many books were lost during the chaotic and war-ridden years prior to the unification of China under the Tang dynasty when the Treatise was compiled. 21  I use D.C. Lau’s translation to illustrate how Bao Xian read the text differently. Indeed, as far as I know, Bao’s reading is not followed by any modern scholars but was favored by the NeoConfucian master Zhu Xi (1130–1200) in his definitive commentary, which became the stipulated text for civil service examinations since 1313. 22  Although qiao and ling may indeed function as adjectives to modify speech and facial expression, even in Confucius’ remarks elsewhere, they were used as causative verbs in Analects 1.3. I have argued elsewhere on both philological and philosophical grounds that Bao Xian’s reading was indeed faithful to the original meaning of the Analects. See Lao 2018: 132–140. 19

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化也。大公大賢, 周公聖人, 今其政教雖衰, 若有明君興之者, 齊可使如魯, 魯 可使如大道行之時也” (Huang 2013: 145). As in the previous example, Bao stayed closely to the original meaning of Confucius’ remark though he did not seem to have explained its syntax or provided any gloss therein. In neither example can we see any evidence of Bao arbitrating over competing readings of the text in question. It is noteworthy that none of the eight commentaries in the Collected Explanations was entitled jie. In Han times, jie connoted the sense of adjudication, an attempt to reach a definitive judgment or explanation; as such it presumed the availability of multiple options to be evaluated. Thus, jie represented a commentator’s preferred reading of a text. As Xu Shen’s 許慎 (58–148  CE) Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字 (Explanations of Simple Graphs and Analyses of Composite Graphs) demonstrates, scholars of Confucian Classics did not always agree upon the original meanings of ancient words and one main reason why Xu composed the lexicon was to offer definitive explanations for ancient words as a reliable guide for the study of the Classics. Thus, the terms shuo and jie in the title indicated Xu’s deliberation and judgment. Back in the Former-Han period, Senior Xiahou and Junior Xiahou each composed a zhangju commentary in 29 scrolls (juan) and a jiegu 解故 (explaining ancient words with contemporary ones) commentary in 29 pian on the Documents. The explanation of the meaning of an ancient word must have demanded a choice among competing options and jie implicates the necessary adjudication. The rivalry of two jiegu commentaries indicates that jie indeed necessitated adjudication. Evidently, zhangju and jiegu were different forms or styles of commentary. Unfortunately, none survive today. Jiegu commentaries aimed at ascertaining the meanings of ancient words rather than highlighting the interpretive thrust of a text as a whole. As a genre, it continued to be written for the Confucian Classics until the end of the Han dynasty and Jia Kui 賈逵 (174–228 CE) was one of the foremost experts in this kind of scholarship.23 Meanwhile, because of Emperor Guangwu’s fascination with portents and omens, works of esoteric arts, prognostic riddles as well as so-called “apocryphal” texts (chenwei 讖緯) on Confucian Classics were gaining widespread interest in society. Even Confucian scholars believed in the riddles and practiced the arts; some wrote commentaries on the apocryphal texts24and Zheng Xuan cited the apocryphal texts in his commentaries on the Classics. Interestingly, zhangju and jieshuo commentaries were also written to decode the texts of esoteric arts and their cryptic meanings. Yang Tong 楊統 (fl. latter half of the second century CE) inherited his family’s instructions in the arcane arts, and he composed a zhangju commentary (Jiafa zhangju 家法章句) on the instructions as well as a jieshuo commentary on another work called Esoteric Prognostications (neichen 內讖) (Fan 1971: 4.20a.1047). Jieshuo was different from jiegu as it aimed at deciphering the cryptic import of

 Jia Kui wrote a jiegu commentary for the Zuo Zhuan 左傳 (Zuo Commentary), Guo Yu 國語 (Discourses of Various States) and Zhouguan 周官 (Institutions of Zhou, aka, Rites of Zhou). 24  Zhai Pu 翟酺 (fl. first half of second century CE) composed two jiegu commentaries on the Classic of Filial Devotion. See Fan 1971: 6.48.1606. 23

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texts rather than adjudicating the correct meanings of ancient words. In terms of exegetical spirit, jieshuo was virtually indistinguishable from zhu or what He Yan called yishuo. It was this kind of jieshuo that He Yan tried to emulate in his Collected Explanations and its collective nature tore down the barriers of zhangju ­sectarianism25 yet integrated solid and veritable zhangju explanations into a unified vision of the Analects and Confucius as the central figure in it.26 As is well known, the Five Classics became the curriculum for civil service examination since Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty. As each of the Classics was open to multiple interpretations, it would be difficult to set a standard for the purpose of examination. Thus, since the beginning of the Later-Han, the state sanctioned only fourteen zhangju commentaries for the examination,27 and students needed to study them with a teacher called a Scholar of Erudition (boshi 博士) in the Imperial Academy. For the sake of examination, a student who studied a particular commentary on a given Classic must follow it to the letter and was not allowed to incorporate any other commentary in his answers, much less to deviate from his chosen one. Sectarianism thus arose. On the other hand, even if a teacher’s explanation was problematic, his students were not allowed to challenge it. Thus, zhangju commentary in the context of civil service examination was by default rigid and not amenable to new interpretation. Scholars who supported the examination system would fight hard to defend it, and perhaps the most effective way to succeed was to insist on the strict adherence to sanctioned zhangju explanations of the Classics as it had direct consequences on the student’s political future if he resisted. Xu Fang 徐防 (fl. early second century CE) was alarmed by the total disregard for sanctioned zhangju commentaries by the students in the Imperial Academy. He complained that they ignored their teachers’ lines of interpretation (jiafa 家法) and construed the Classics as they pleased. They raised all sorts of issues with regard to the examination and fought among themselves over matters of interpretation. They even denounced obedience to their teachers and favored speculative thinking. Xu was worried that such student behavior had become fashionable and he appealed to Emperor He to rectify the problem by reasserting the fundamental importance of Confucian learning and reclaiming the inviolate standards of zhangju commentaries in the examination (Fan 1971: 6.34.1500–1501). The emperor engaged the court to deliberate on Xu’s proposal and it received unanimous support. Nevertheless, the problem was never resolved and similar complaints continued unabated until the

25  It is well-known that Wang Su regarded Zheng Xuan as his academic rival and was keen on attacking all of Zheng’s works. Yet, He Yan included the commentaries of both (Zheng Xuan was cited 105 times and Wang Su 36 times). 26  John Makeham argues that the Collected Explanations tried to present Confucius as a transmitter rather than a creator, and he was “a sage whose actions were in complete harmony with the way revealed through heaven and to reconcile Confucius’ lack of worldly success with this claim.” Makeham 2003: 73. 27  That is, four on the Changes, three each on the Songs and Documents, and two each on the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Etiquettes.

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collapse of the Han dynasty when the fourteen sanctioned zhangju commentaries fell into disuse with it. However, the rigid dogmatism and divisive sectarianism created by zhangju commentaries plagued only the Five Classics but not necessarily the Analects. For most of the Han period, the Analects was not revered as a Classic (jing 經); rather, it was considered a “transmitted record” (zhuan 傳). During the brief reign of Emperor Wen 漢文帝 (r. 180–157 BCE), in an effort to promote learning, a scheme called Erudite Scholars for Transmitted Records (zhuanji boshi 傳記博士) was instituted in the central government. It offered instruction to students on the Analects, along with the Classic of Filial Devotion, the Mencius, and the Er Ya 爾雅 (a lexicon of glosses for the Confucian Classics) (Jiao 1996: 17). In spite of such prestige, the Analects remained a “transmitted record.”28 When Emperor Wu later adopted the Five Classics as the official curriculum for recruiting civil officials, the Analects lost its esteemed status in the state. Nevertheless, it continued to command respect among scholars and in the society. The renowned scholar Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 BCE-18 CE) regarded the Analects as the most important zhuan of all, so much so that he composed his Fa Yan 法言 in imitation of it (Ban 2002: 11.87b.3580). As mentioned above, students in the Imperial Academy were prone to disregard their teachers’ explanations of the Classics and continual efforts to rectify the problem were futile. In 175 CE, the state carved a set of Classics in stone and erected the steles outside the Imperial Academy to provide the standard texts for civil examination. Although the Lu recension of the Analects was included along with the Lu recension of the Songs, Junior Xiaohou recension of the Documents, the Etiquettes, the Lu recension of the Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, and these with Junior Xiahou’s recension of the Documents and the Etiquettes, this does not necessarily mean that the Analects was honored as a Classic. Certainly, it was not a text in the curriculum for civil examination. In the “Bibliographical Treatise” of the Hanshu, the Analects was appended with the Classic of Filial Devotion and the lexicons at the end of the Five Classics. It was an expedient measure because they were all primers for literacy acquisition and moral education that prepared students for learning the Classics. Moreover, the appended texts did not fit anywhere else within the classificatory framework of the Treatise. The placement of the Analects in the steles was a physical manifestation of its auxiliary status as a text. The peculiar status of the Analects perhaps turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Since the Analects was not implicated in the politics of doctrinal sectarianism, it was possible for innovation and development in response to exigent needs. In his Preface to the Collected Explanations, He Yan outlined the development of five different recensions of the Analects dating back to the earliest Old-Text recension  John Makeham claims that: “Even when the editors (of the Collected Explanations) compromised their role as mere ‘transmitters’ by citing passages from the Book of Changes in the editorial commentaries, their purpose was to bolster the status of the Analects as a Classic (jing 經) by securing a cosmological grounding for Confucius as sage, a grounding not explicitly present in the Analects.” See Makeham 2003: 26. It is not evident that the editors were motivated to bolster the status of the Analects, much less as a Classic because it was not one in the first place. 28

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transmitted by Kong Anguo with his glosses and explanations. Perhaps due to the difficulty of deciphering the text written in ancient script, the Old-Text recension did not receive any attention. Besides, there were the Lu recension, the Qi recension, and the Marquis Zhang 張侯論 (prepared by Zhang Yu 張禹, who died in year 5) recension, which combined the best of the Lu and Qi recensions. The Marquis Zhang recension received unanimous esteem and gradually replaced the other two recensions. Still later, Zheng Xuan modified the Lu recension with the Qi recension and the Old-Text recension.29 Such development was driven by a common pursuit of the best recension and explanations of the Analects, and it was made possible because the Analects was not connected to any political interests. The debacle of the Han dynasty perhaps made it even more convenient for He Yan to prepare an eclectic Analects in terms of both its texts and explanations.

4  Hermeneutical Significance vs. Pedagogical Purpose Although He Yan was accused of being “superficial and frivolous” regarding his personality, lifestyle, and even scholarship, and his pursuit of metaphysical issues condemned as “vacuous,” the Collected Explanations was never criticized for any reasons. On the contrary, it was adopted as the standard work on the Analects ever since it was completed. During the early medieval period, Zheng Xuan’s Annotations enjoyed the same privilege in the North, but when China was unified under the Tang (618–907 CE), Zheng’s Annotations began to lose its earlier prestige. Meanwhile, He Yan’s Collected Explanations was the singular text used for the civil examination until Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130–1200) Collected Annotations 集注 replaced it in 1313. Yet, even Zhu Xi regarded the Collected Explanations highly and quoted from it frequently in his own commentary without identifying its source, and he often praised it on other occasions. To be sure, Zhu also complained that the work was contaminated with Daoist ideas, and this is understandable given Zhu’s attempt to reclaim Confucian orthodoxy and his rigorous defense against Buddhism and Daoism. However, his complaint could not be substantiated.30 For a long time, modern scholars believed that the Collected Explanations was indeed He Yan’s Xuanxue project. Recently, some scholars have successfully refuted this erroneous view in various ways and John Makeham offers the most powerful rebuttal in English  The above account was given by He Yan in his Preface to the Collected Explanations. In fact, according to Lu Deming’s 陸德明 (556–627 CE) Jingdian Shiwen 經典釋文, Zheng Xuan consulted more than these three recensions such as the Bao (Xian) and (Mr.) Zhou zhangju. As it turns out, Zheng might have used the Old-Text recension as his base text. Wang Guowei 王國維 (1877–1927) argued that Zheng Xuan actually used the Old-Text recension as his base text, but since we do not know what the Old-Text recension looked like, nor do we have the complete text of Zheng’s annotations, Wang’s view cannot be considered conclusive. In fact, it has been challenged. See the texts of Wang Guowei, Kanaya Osamu 金谷治, and Wang Su 王素 in Wang 1991: 157–161, 237–243, and 244–249 respectively; see also Makeham 2003: 378–381. 30  See Lo 2014: 265–291. 29

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scholarship.31 He has identified several terms and concepts that are typically associated with Xuanxue thought and examined how they were used, if at all, in the Collected Explanations.32 He concluded that they were either understood differently, or not first used by Xuanxue thinkers, or not used at all. For example, Analects 15.5 reads: The Master said, “Shun was one who brought about order through wuwei. What did he have to do? Nothing but to assume a dignified posture and to preside over his court.” The Collected Explanations says: “This says that in appointing officials he obtained the services of appropriate men. For this reason, he brought about order through ‘initiating no action’ [of his own]” (Makeham 2003: 38).33

As Makeham correctly observes, the commentary is “substantially a paraphrase of the text; no attempt was made to introduce additional concepts to contrive a ‘Laoist’ reading” (Makeham 2003: 38). He concludes that the commentary tries to “advance an interpretation more in keeping with the notion of the efficacious power of a true ruler’s charismatic virtue rather than the Laoist principle of ‘doing nothing and nothing will be left undone’” (Makeham 2003: 39). While the two readings are not incompatible, the hermeneutical thrust of the commentary is indeed different. However, the Analects itself could lend support to the Laoist reading. For instance, in Analects 2.1 the Master said, “The rule of virtue can be compared to the Pole Star which commands the homage of the multitude of stars without leaving its place” (Lau 1979: 63). This, of course, does not invalidate Makeham’s argument; rather it shows that He Yan could have given the Analects a Laoist twist whenever convenient as Wang Bi 王弼 did34; the fact that he did not proves he was not intent on doing so in the Collected Explanations. Indeed, this is the case with a few other possible terms or concepts (e.g., xu 虚, emptiness) in the commentary, thus there is insufficient ground to characterize the entire work as a Xuanxue project. Hermeneutically speaking, Makeham notices that the Collected Explanations ventured no interpretation of its own ostensibly and “exercised a degree of hermeneutical latitude unknown to previous commentators.” He further adds: Apart from the editorial commentaries, which do evidence some common philosophical character, the bulk of the commentaries—a congeries of interpretations culled from the writings of earlier commentators—betrays no obvious signs of a hermeneutic informing either the choice of the commentaries or their ordering. Rarely is any attempt made to relate the commentaries to one another through the sequencing or juxta-positioning of individual commentaries. Moreover, individually the commentaries are frequently no more than pithy

31  Makeham 2003: 23–47. For Chinese scholarship, see for example, Cai 2004: 81–107, and Jin 2016: 45–98. 32  Makeham mentions initiating no action, emptiness, one-many, root-branches, and emotional responses and pattern. See Makeham 2003: 35–47. 33  Translation of the Analects and the commentary are Makeham’s. 34  Wang Bi wrote a selective commentary to the Analects called Lunyu shiyi 論語釋疑 (Dispelling Doubts about the Analects), which survives only in fragments but they clearly demonstrate Wang’s keen interest in extrapolating the Confucian text into Xuanxue thinking.

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paraphrases of the text; the few comments that are not paraphrases seldom present an interpretation that strikes a modern reader as creative or innovative (Makeham 2003: 48-49).

This is an unusually clear and eloquent description of the exegetical features of the Collected Explanations. But the lack of originality bothers Makeham. In the end, he appropriates the idea of florilegium, or “bouquet” in the Byzantine literary genre that Jaroslav Pelikan borrows to discuss the relation between tradition and creativity in his The Vindication of Tradition. As Makeham explains, a characteristic trait of a florilegium was an explicit refusal to be ‘original,’ and that its originality and creativity must, therefore, be sought in its repetition of the standard formulas, not apart from that repetition … A florilegium is a mosaic, all of whose tiles have come from somewhere else; a myopic examination of the tiles, or the spaces between the tiles, misses the whole point, which is in the relation of the tile to one another and of the mosaic to other mosaics (Makeham 2003: 49).

No doubt there is some formalist resemblance between the Collected Explanations and a florilegium thus described, but a fundamental difference separates them and makes the comparison irrelevant. As far as evidence goes, He Yan did not attempt to be creative in compiling the Collected Explanations. According to its Preface, it attempted to “assemble the sound explanations of earlier commentators” and “modified them considerably when the editor(s) were not satisfied with them 有不安者, 頗為改易” (Huang 2013: 13). Makeham claims that the Preface shows that “the editors were obviously aware of their own innovation” (Makeham 2003: 51). Offering a new explanation of course can be considered innovative, however, being different is not the same as being creative. Makeham also asserts that “the editors here flag an important departure from the conservative Han scholarly practice of not citing interpretations that diverged from the exegetical principles of the particular ‘lineage model’ (jiafa 家法) in which one had been trained or the exegetical principles favored by a particular ‘teacher model’ (shifa 師法)” (Makeham 2003: 52). Conceptually, the so-called jiafa and shifa were offshoots of the civil service examination based on the Five Classics. Jiafa came into existence when a particular interpretation of a classic was authorized to be on the curriculum for examination, and within the same “school” there might be sub-­ lineages under different teachers called shifa. As mentioned, jiafa and shifa must be strictly observed because candidates would be tested on the Classic they studied according to the particular jiafa and shifa they followed. In other words, there were standard answers to the questions on the examination. Beyond this political context, jiafa and shifa were virtually meaningless. In fact, as long as a Classic was not sanctioned by the state, it did not claim any jiafa or shifa of significance; it matters not whether a Classic belonged to Old-Text Learning or New-Text Learning. The Zuo Commentary and Mao version of the Book of Songs are two cases in point. Hardly any scholar would care to study these Old-Text Classics that were not on the state curriculum. There was never any dispute over shifa or jiafa about them, even if they existed at all. Apart from the Classics, the Analects qua zhuan did not boast any jiafa or shifa either. Although some scholars such as Bao Xian had their own zhangju

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commentaries, it does not mean they had any inviolable “teacher method.” It cannot be overemphasized that zhangju and jiafa did not implicate each other outside the context of civil examination; they were distinct and unrelated concepts. Bao Xian studied the Lu recension of the Songs under Youshi Xijun 右師細君, so he would observe his teacher’s line of interpretation, but when he composed his own zhangju on the Analects, it had nothing to do with the “teacher method” he followed in his study of the Songs. For the Analects, he might well invent his own explanations or borrowed from existing commentaries. Thus, He Yan was by no means declaring in his Preface a departure from the Han scholarly practice, which, in any case, had already become obsolete with the downfall of the Han dynasty. As demonstrated above, neither the pastiche-like format nor the title of the Collected Explanations was original. We know that Zheng Xuan’s Annotations had actually incorporated earlier commentaries anonymously. The Collected Explanations was equally eclectic though quotations were identified by the commentator’s names. Sometimes, more than one possible reading may be offered impartially. For instance, Confucius mentioned “a state of a thousand chariots 千乘 之國” in Analects 1.5, and Ma Rong and Bao Xian explained the term differently. He Yan listed both, identified their respective textual evidence, and remarked that “the explanations are doubtful, so both are registered here 義疑, 故兩存焉” (Huang 2013: 10). Although this practice was absent in the Zheng Xuan’s Annotations, which does not survive in its entirety, Bao Xian was known to have done the same even earlier, and it suggests that he did not stick to any “teacher method.” Analects 2.7 reads: “Ziyou asked about filial piety. The Master said, ‘Nowadays for a man to be filial means no more than he is able to provide his parents with food. Even hounds and horses are, in some way, provided with food. If a man shows no reverence, where is the difference?’” (Lau 1979: 64). Only Bao Xian’s explanation was quoted for this passage. He said: Hounds are used to guard [our properties] and horses are used to do work [for us], they both serve men. Another reading is: Men may provide even for hounds and horses, but [if they provide for their parents] without reverence, there would be no difference. Mencius said, ‘Feeding without love, this is how we raise pigs. Loving without reverence, this is how we raise animals.

犬以守禦, 馬以代勞, 能養人者也。一曰人之所養, 乃能至於犬馬, 不敬則無以 別。孟子曰養而不愛, 豕畜之也; 愛而不敬, 獸畜之也 (Huang 2013: 29).

He Yan decided to let Bao Xian explain this passage probably because he also found both explanations feasible. In any case, He Yan’s inclusion of different readings was by no means innovative. Incidentally, Bao Xian cited Mencius in his zhangju explanation, though the quotation is not found in the received edition we have today. This practice seems atypical among the eight commentators in the Collected Explanations. He Yan himself explicitly cited textual support (Yijing 易經) only once in Analects 7.17, though he also cited it without naming the source (Huang 2013: 167).35

 In Analects 5.13, he cited the Yijing without naming the work. See Huang 2013: 110–111.

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Not only did He Yan not intend to be original or creative as a commentator, he attempted to give the readers as much freedom as possible to come up with their reading. For example, in Analects 14.23, it reads: “The Master said, ‘The gentleman gets through to what is up above; the small man gets through to what is down below’” (Lau 1979: 128). He Yan said, “The root is what is above; branches are what is below 本為上, 末為下” (Huang 2013: 373). The reader cannot help but feel that he is asked to solve a riddle but there are intertextual clues. Analects 14.35 reads in part: “The Master said, ‘I do not complain against heaven, nor do I blame Man. In my studies, I start from below and get through to what is above. If I am understood at all, it is, perhaps, by heaven’” (Lau 1979: 129). About this passage, He Yan quoted Kong Anguo as saying, “to learn about human affairs down below, to understand the heaven-ordained destiny up above” (下學人事., 上知天命) (Huang 2013: 379). Perhaps the root above refers to the heaven-ordained destiny. This is exactly how the Collected Explications makes room for the reader to engage the text and discover meaning for himself. Notably, there are twenty-one chapters in the Analects for which the Collected Explanations does not offer any commentary at all.36 Readerly freedom was ample. This makes perfect sense if we recall the Collected Explanations was written for pedagogical purposes and was not intended to be a philosophical project or a convenient medium to make a personal, if subtle, statement. In this sense, the commentary would not be Xuanxue in nature. As mentioned above, a zhu commentary aims at inspiring the readers to see the import of the text and sometimes even spells out the meaning explicitly. Analects 11.21, 11.22, and 11.23, together make an interesting example to illustrate this characteristic of zhu. Analects 11.21: The Master said of Yan Yuan: “I watched him making progress, but I did not see him realize his capacity to the full. What a pity!” (Lau 1979: 99). He Yan quoted Bao Xian as saying: “Confucius said Yan Yuan was making progress without stop, he regretted it to the utmost 孔子謂顏淵進益未止, 故痛惜之甚 也” (Huang 2013: 226). The reader has to imagine the reason behind Bao’s remark. In contrast, Zheng Xuan’s annotation reads: “Yan Yuan was ill and Confucius went to see him, thus he made this remark. He regretted it to the utmost 顏淵病, 孔子往 省之, 故發此言, 痛惜之甚” (Wang 1991: 107). Whether or not the circumstance for Confucius’s remark was accurate is a separate matter; there is little left for the reader’s imagination. Analects 9.22: The Master said: “There are, are there not, young plants that fail to produce blossoms, and blossoms that fail to produce fruit?” (Lau 1979: 99). He Yan quoted Kong Anguo as saying, “this says of the myriad things some are born without being able to mature. It is the same with human beings 言萬物有生而不育 成者, 喻人亦然也” (Huang 2013: 226). Quite faithful to the text, Kong only suggested that Confucius might be drawing an analogy here. However, Zheng Xuan

 Analects 3.26, 4.9, 5.28, 7.37, 11.3, 11.8, 12.16, 13.13, 13.16, 14.10, 14.27, 14.28, 14.41, 15.13, 15.24, 15.30, 15.31, 15.41, 16.10, 17.21, and 17.23.

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annotated: “‘Fail to produce blossoms’ was a comment about Xiang Tuo.37 ‘Fail to produce fruit’ is a comment about Yan Yuan 不秀, 諭項託。不實, 諭顏淵” (Wang 1991: 108). He could read the Master’s mind for the reader. Analects 9.23: The Master said: “It is fitting that we should hold the young in awe. How do we know that the generations to come will not be the equal of the present? Only when a man reaches the age of forty or fifty without distinguishing himself in any way can one say, I suppose, that he does not deserve to be held in awe” (Lau 1979: 99). He Yan himself has only one short remark for this chapter: “‘Later born’ means tender age 後生, 謂年少也” (Huang 2013: 226). But Zheng Xuan annotated: “‘Later born’ means young and childlike. This refers to Yan Yuan. ‘To hold in awe’ says one’s talent is so fine that it impresses people. Mencius said, ‘My grandfather held [him] in awe.’38 At that time, Yan Yuan had already died, so [Confucius] asked how one could know there would be no one like him again in the future 後生, 謂幼稚, 斥顏淵也。可畏者, 言其才美服人也。孟子曰吾先子之所 畏。是時顏淵死矣, 故發言, 何如來世將無此人” (Wang 1991: 108). Again, the annotation does the thinking for the reader. Similar examples abound in Zheng’s Annotations where the reader would be told the specific reasons, motives, or circumstances with regard to the incident or remark in the text. This is rare in the Collected Explanations. As is well-known, Wang Bi’s commentaries on the Daodejing and the Yijing are truly Xuanxue in nature, and it is no coincidence that both were called zhu. They are full of philosophical expositions in long paragraphs, unlike the usual snippets of text in the Collected Explanations. Typically, Wang Bi would tease out the meanings of terms and expressions and analyze the ideas latent in them. As Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312 CE) would later characterize it, this exegetical approach is called “differentiating terms and analyzing their inherent meanings” (bianming xili 辨名析理) (Guo 1985: 1114). It is absent in the Collected Explanations, albeit evident in He Yan’s analytical essays “On Dao” and “On the Nameless” where he was free to fathom the nature of Dao as a thinker in his own right without being burdened by the duty of a commentator-cum-educator.39

 Legend has it that Xiang Tuo was a seven-year-old child prodigy and Confucius had sought advice from him. 38  The quotation was meant to tell the reader the word wei 畏 also appears in Mencius 2A1. 39  He Yan planned to write a commentary on the Daodejing but before he finished, he happened to read Wang Bi’s commentary and was so impressed that he decided to drop his project, and wrote two essays on Dao and its power (Daode er lun 道德二論) instead. See Xu 1987: 107. It was suggested that He Yan actually wrote only one essay as the graph er 二 (two) was added by mistake. Two excerpts were quoted in his name titled “Discourse on Dao” (Dao lun 道論) and “Discourse on the Nameless” (Wuming lun 無名論) respectively in Zhang Zhan’s 張湛 Commentary on the Liezi 列子注, which was completed in the fourth century. They seem incomplete in their content and too short for an essay. As their contents are closely related, it is possible that the excerpts actually came from one essay in spite of their different titles. For more, see Chan and Lo 2010: 23–52. Also see Paul D’Ambrosio’s chapter in this Companion. 37

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5  Philosophical Possibilities If there was a unique hermeneutical significance of the Collected Explanations, perhaps it lies not so much in its interpretation as in its probable purpose. The modern Western reader may be inclined to assume that the Analects was understood as a philosophical text in Han times and that it was easy to read. According to Wang Chong 王充 (27–97 CE), however, the text was notorious for being difficult to read even for the Scholars of Erudition during the reign of Emperor Xuan 漢宣帝 (r. 74–48 BCE).40 To be sure, the fact that it was written in ancient script constituted the first obstacle, hence, commentators were indispensable and their first job was to tackle philological and textual problems of every sort before interpretation was possible. For the Analects to function as a primer of children’s literacy and moral education, the exegetical approach of Han commentators must be appropriate, practical, and useful; their primary interest was pedagogical rather than academic and philosophical. Beyond pedagogical considerations, Han scholar-officials routinely quoted the Analects for guidance and support when they discussed governmental affairs and remonstrated with the emperor. On these occasions, they might interpret the text to serve their expedient purposes. For instance, the controversial reference of Confucius to “young maids” (nüzi 女子, commonly translated as “women”) and “male servants” (xiaoren 小人, commonly translated as “petty people”) whom were difficult to deal with, became handy when the officials tried to caution the emperor about the danger of indulging in the empress and her consorts and delegating too much power to the male relatives from her family.41 For someone like Zheng Xuan, he might read his personal life into the Analects and try to draw connections between his unfortunate time and disappointment with those of Confucius.42 Besides interpreting the Analects with ulterior considerations, the critical reader might interrogate the text of the Analects and the thinking of Confucius on their own terms; he need not accept them without a satisfactory explanation or simply on faith. Wang Chong openly confessed that as long as the reader had doubts about the text, there was nothing wrong for him to ask Confucius about it (Liu 1958: 182). Indeed, he wrote an essay titled “Querying Confucius” (Wen Kong 問孔) in which he raised dozens of questions to the Master. He confidently asked: “So long as the reader is indeed wise and knowledgeable enough, what is so unreasonable to challenge the teaching of Confucius? 誠有傳聖業之知, 伐孔子之說, 何逆於理” (Liu 1958: 182). As the editor of the Collected Explanations, He Yan played the role of a pedagogue rather than a challenger. Yet, his hermeneutical openness aimed at creating room for students to explore on their own. As discussed above, He Yan was not reluctant to express his doubts on the commentaries (Analects 1.5) he quoted.  See Liu 1958: 558.  For a detailed study of the extratextual interpretation of Analects 17.25 from Han to Song times, see Lo 2010: 309–340. For discussion on the original meaning of Analects 17.25, see Lo 2010: 109–146. See also Makeham 1997: 260–99. 42  See the text by Kanaya in Wang 1991: 204–243, esp. 218–237. 40 41

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Sometimes, the overall meaning of a passage may not be immediately clear in light of the commentaries he provided. For instance, in Analects 9.8, Confucius said: “Do I possess knowledge? No, I do not. A rustic put a question to me and my mind was a complete blank. I kept hammering at the two sides of the question until I got everything out of it” (Lau 1979: 97). This translation follows Zhu Xi’s reading, which is widely accepted today. But He Yan read it differently and his own commentary seems cryptic. He said: “Zhi is the same as zhi in zhiyi, knowing the intention. This says a person who knows may not exhaust his knowledge in what he says. Now I indeed exhaust [all I know] 知者, 知意之知也。言知者, 言未必盡也。今 我誠盡也” (Huang 2013: 214). For the second half of the Master’s utterance, He Yan quoted Kong Anguo as saying: “A rustic came to ask me a question, his mind was empty of intentions. I answered him by revealing the beginning and the end of what the question was about, exhausting all I know without reservation 有鄙夫來問 於我, 其意空空然, 我則發事之終始兩端以語之, 竭盡所知, 不為有愛也” (Huang 2013: 215). In light of Kong’s explanation, it is now clear why He Yan made a point of specifying the exact meaning of zhi in this context: he wanted to alert the reader that it was not the generic sense of knowing that Confucius was talking about. Yet, unlike Zhu Xi, Kong and He Yan thought it was the rustic whose mind drew a complete blank, but it was not because he was ignorant; rather, he appeared not to know his own intention of asking the question. This seems to be an odd reading but for some reason He Yan found it appealing and useful for the reader. Perhaps for him, Confucius meant to express his attitude of listening to someone without guessing prejudicially, therefore, he was able to speak his mind impartially and examine an issue from all possible angles, all things considered. Even when answering a question from a rustic, his attitude remained the same. This reading is feasible. After all, Confucius was known to abstain from speculation (see Analects 9.4). To He Yan, the Master’s confession of having no knowledge is effectively tantamount to “entertaining no conjectures.” Still, we need to reconcile his reading with Kong’s but that may be exactly how He Yan wanted to engage his reader. Indeed, no later than Song times, scholars under the Buddhist influence began to be intrigued by the philosophical import of the “empty mind” (kongkong ruye 空空如也) in this Analects passage and their inquisitive interest would later become a focal point in understanding Confucius toward the end of the Ming dynasty.43 He Yan’s resistance to a Daoistic reading is apparent in a similar passage from Analects 11.19: “The Master said, ‘Hui is perhaps difficult to improve upon; he allows himself constantly to be in dire poverty. [Duanmu] Si refuses to accept his lot and indulges in money making, and is frequently right in his conjectures” (Lau 1979: 108). As Makeham says, “the editorial commentary proper is an interpretative paraphrase of the text”: This says, “[Yan] Hui had almost attained the sage’s way. Although he had often been destitute, he nevertheless found happiness in the midst of poverty. [Duanmu] Si had refused

 Some of the Ming interpretations can be found in Cheng 1997: 585–587. See also Ngoi 2017: 129–158.

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to listen to [the Master’s] instructions; the only thing he propagated was his wealth by speculating in gain and loss.” Confucius is probably praising Hui in order to encourage Si to be like him.” In this reading, the mind is not an issue at all (Makeham 2003: 40; translation modified).

However, He Yan adds an alternative interpretation as follows: Lü 屢 is “frequently” (mei 每); kong 空 is “to empty oneself within” (xu zhong 虛中) … It was only Hui who had almost made it and was frequently able to empty himself within; he had the capacity to embrace and contain the full depth and vastness of the way within himself. If one does not empty one’s mind (xuxin 虛心), one will be unable to know the way. Although Zigong [i.e., Duanmu Si] did not suffer the same faults as the other disciples, nevertheless he, too, did not know the way. Although he had not exhausted pattern (li 理), by luck he hit upon the measure of things; and although it was not heaven’s command, by chance he became wealthy. That it came down to a luck and chance was, as with the others, because he did not empty his mind” (Makeham 2003: 40; translation modified).

It seems clear that this reading was inspired by Analects 9.8 and 9.4 as the commentator took kong to mean “empty” rather than “destitute.”44 As such, “to empty one’s mind” does not actually mean “being humble” in the mundane sense; it requires the cultivation of a psychic state which enables one to see or know things as they are without prejudice before and after the act of seeing and knowing. It is not about humility per se. Philologically, this alternative gloss is tenable. Thus, the new reading has profound implications for Yan Hui’s accomplishments in self-­cultivation as well as the philosophy of Confucius as a whole. Although xu and wu 無 (non-­ being) are virtually symbiotic in Xuanxue thinking, He Yan did not show any preference for the Daoistic reading in the commentary. His primary objective, again, remained pedagogical, and his hermeneutical openness engenders philosophical possibilities.

6  Conclusion He Yan may be considered a precursor of Xuanxue thinking, but the assumption of the Collected Explanations being a vehicle to elaborate his Xuanxue thinking is uncritical. Still, underneath this unwarranted assumption, there is yet another deeper one—the assumption that the Collected Explanations had a philosophical agenda. John Makeham is essentially right in arguing against the presence of Xuanxue thought in the Collected Explanations and he is astute to notice the hermeneutical motivation behind the work. He argues that the editors of the Collected Explanations sought to present it “as a performative expression of Confucius’ claim to have been a transmitter rather than a creator” (Makeham 2003: 48, 73). That may be a defensible thesis on its own, but Makeham also concludes that the editorial commentaries reveal a concerted attempt to establish that Confucius was a sage whose actions were in complete harmony with the way as revealed through heaven and to 44

 For a detailed discussion of Analects 11.19, see Lo 2014: 265–291.

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reconcile Confucius’ lack of worldly success with this claim … By reading selected passages from Changes, the Analects acquired a cosmological grounding it had hitherto lacked. Hence the editors were far from being “without a personal presence” in an “assembled gathering”; of all the commentaries in Collected Explanations the editorial commentaries stand out as being the most personally focused and committed to an identifiable philosophical agenda (Makeham 2003: 73).

Tension between the two theses is evident. Granted that the coherent image of Confucius as presented in the editorial commentaries is indicative of the editors’ conscious effort, perhaps their “performative expression” was not so successful after all. The effort failed because the performative expression was meant to create rather than transmit if Makeham’s conclusion stands. And his conclusion, it would seem, is also driven by a search for a philosophical agenda in the Collected Explanations. As demonstrated in this chapter, the goal of the editors was to produce a new commentary to the Analects for education purposes, and their primary concern was pedagogical usefulness and efficacy. They set out to break down sectarian barriers that might have divided earlier commentators and avoid dictating subjective interpretations to the reader. The editors aspired to inspire rather than dogmatize. They were not against interpretive homogeneity but favored hermeneutical openness to the extent that they were willing to leave twenty-one passages without any commentaries. A philosophical agenda could be identified in the Collected Explanations but the hermeneutical focus and personal commitment attributed to the editors may be ahistorical as well. In any case, if there were in fact any philosophical agenda in the commentary, there was no reason why the four self-­ effacing political opportunists whose names appeared in the Preface to the work could even imagine such an endeavor. He Yan would be the editor who might have entertained that kind of ambition.

Bibliography Ban, Gu 班固. 2002. History of the Han Dynasty 漢書. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Cai, Zhenfeng 蔡振豐. 2004. “The Philosophical Characteristics and Position of He Yan’s Collected Explanations on the Analects 何晏論語集解的思想特色及其定位.” In Junjie Huang 黃俊傑, ed., A Preliminary Exploration of Interpretations of the Four Books in China and Japan 中日 四書詮釋傳統初探, 81-107. Taibei: Taiwan Daxue Chuban Zhongxin. Chan, Alan K.L. and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., 2010. Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chen, Shou 陳壽. 1982. Records of the Three Kingdoms 三國志. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Cheng, Shude 程樹德. 1997. Collected Annotations on the Analects 論語集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Csikszentmihalyi, Mark. 2002. “Confucius and the Analects in the Han.” In Bryan van Norden, ed., Confucius and the Analects: New Essays, 134-162. New York: Oxford University Press. Duan, Yucai 段玉裁. 2000. Commentary on the Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字注. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Fan, Ye 范曄. 1971. History of the Later-Han Dynasty 後漢書. Hong Kong: Zhonghua Shuju. Fang, Xuanling 房玄齡. 1974. History of the Jin Dynasty 晉書. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju.

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Huang, Kan 皇侃. 2013. Subcommentaries on the Analects 論語義疏. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Jiao, Xun 焦循. 1996. Correct Meaning of Mengzi 孟子正義. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Jin, Peiyi 金培懿. 2016. “Elaborating Lao-Zhuang Philosophy? Interpreting Classics in Neo-­ Daoist Terms? Turning Confucian Classics Learning into Neo-Daoism? Revaluation of the Philosophical Position of He Yan’s Collected Explanations on the Analects 祖述老莊? 以玄 解經? 經學玄化? 何晏論語集解的重新定位,” Literature and Philosophy 文與哲, 16: 45–98. Lau, D.C., trans. 1979. The Analects. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Liu, Pansui 劉盼遂. 1958. Collected Explanations on Lunheng 論衡集解. Taibei: Shijie Shuju. Lo, Yuet Keung 勞悅強. 2010. “On the Analects line ‘young maids and male servants are the most difficult of people to treat’: The Evolution of Annotated Interpretations from the Han to Song Dynasty 論語唯女子與小人為難養: 漢至宋的詮釋演變.” In Yuet Keung Lo, Intratextual and Extratextual: Interpretations of Classics in Chinese Intellectual History 文內文外:中國思 想史中的經典詮釋, 309–340. Taibei: Taida Chuban Zhongxin. Lo, Yuet Keung 勞悅強. 2014. “Impoverished or Intermittently Empty? A New Interpretation of Analects 11.19 論語先進篇屢空辨,” Chinese Studies 漢學研究, 32.2: 265–291. Lo, Yuet Keung 勞悅強. 2018. “How Should We Read the Analects Today?” In Winter Sun on One’s Back: Record of Speeches on Literature, History, Philosophy in the Lion City 背上冬陽: 文史哲獅城演講錄, 132–147. Selangor Darul Ehsan: Universiti Tunku Abdul Rahman. Lo, Yuet Keung. 2019. “Qingtan and Xuanxue.” In Albert Dien and Keith Knapp eds., Cambridge History of China, volume 2: The Six Dynasties, 511–530. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Makeham, John. 1997. “The Earliest Extant Commentary on Lunyu: Lunyu Zheng Shi Zhu,” T’oung Pao, 83: 260–299. Makeham, John. 2003. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Ngoi, Guat-Peng 魏月萍. 2017. “The Characteristics of Late-Ming Confucian Interpretations of ‘Lü Kong’ and ‘Lü Zhong’ 悟道之機: 晚明儒者屢空, 屢中的詮釋特色.” Chinese Studies 漢 學研究, 35.2: 129–158. Ruan, Yuan 阮元. 1976. Commentaries and Subcommentaries on the Thirteen Classics 十三經注 疏. Taibei: Yiwen Yinshuguan. Shen, Yue 沈約. 1974. History of the Song Dynasty 宋書. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Su 王素. 1991. Tang Dynasty Manuscripts of Mr. Zheng’s Commentary on the Analects and Related Studies 唐寫本論語鄭氏注及其研究. Beijing: Wenwu Chubanshe. Xu, Zhen’e 徐震堮. 1987. Critical Annotations of Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語校箋. Hong Kong: Zhonghua shuju. Yuet Keung Lo is Associate Professor of Chinese Studies at the National University of Singapore. He specializes in Chinese intellectual history covering Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, and their interactions from the classical period to late imperial times. He is the author of Intratextual and Extratextual: Interpretations of Classics in Chinese Intellectual History (in Chinese, 2010), and co-editor with Alan K.L.  Chan of Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China and Literature and Interpretation in Early Medieval China (2010). He has published numerous articles on Buddhism, the Yijing, Confucianism, Xuanxue, and Chinese historiography.

Chapter 11

Ruan Ji’s “On Comprehending the Zhuangzi” David Chai

As a member of the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove” clique, Ruan Ji 阮籍 (210–263 CE) is strangely known more for his poetry than his philosophical essays. Born in the final years of Emperor Xian’s 漢獻帝 (r. 189–220 CE) rule, Ruan Ji would witness the fall of the Later-Han dynasty and the establishment of the Wei under Cao Cao 曹操 (155–220 CE). Ruan’s father, Ruan Yu 阮瑀, died when he was only two years old, and though his father served the Cao family for many years, Ruan Ji avoided court life as much as possible. Indeed, his “Singing My Cares” (Yonghuai 詠懷) series of poems provides a vivid picture of his life and aspirations. To ease his discontent and disillusionment, Ruan Ji turned to his great loves: drinking wine, playing his zither, and studying Daoism. Living when he did, Ruan Ji would have been familiar with Huang-Lao 黃老 thought and his essays show evidence of this in their use of Yin-Yang 陰陽 and Five Agents (wuxing 五行) cosmology. While Ruan’s essays are not as long as those by Ji Kang 嵇康, they nevertheless demonstrate a deep passion for and sophisticated understanding of Daoism and its doctrines of life-prolongation, cosmic harmony, spiritual equanimity, and so forth. Of the essays he is known to have written—“On Music” (Yue lun 樂論), “On Penetrating the Changes” (Tong Yi lun 通易論), “On Penetrating the Laozi” (Tong Lao lun 通老論), “On Comprehending the Zhuangzi” (Da Zhuang lun 達莊論) and, “Biography of the Great Man” (Daren Xiansheng zhuan 大人先生傳)—the first and last have garnered the bulk of scholarly attention.1 The essay upon which this chapter focuses is a short text of roughly 2500 Chinese characters. Despite its brevity, it is rich in allegorical motifs and exegetical  For more on Ruan Ji’s essay “On Music,” see Criddle 2007.

1

D. Chai (*) Department of Philosophy, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_11

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references to the Zhuangzi 莊子 and brilliantly captures the essence of the text while defending the persona of its author. Ruan Ji’s love of Daoism, like that of his friend Ji Kang, sometimes got in the way of his (Confucian) social obligations and this tension might explain why he sought to discuss the unity of things through the concept of spontaneity (ziran 自然) instead of Dao 道. After outlining the text, noting its many allusions to the Zhuangzi along the way, we will examine why Ruan Ji believed unity via ziran better serves the sagely praxis of wuwei 無為 (non-­deliberate action), and what this says about Xuanxue as a whole.

1  Outline of the Text Ruan Ji’s essay “On Comprehending the Zhuangzi”2 (hereafter, Essay) begins with a description of its main character, a sagacious figure cryptically referred to as the “Master” (xiansheng 先生).3 Speaking on behalf of Ruan Ji, the Master is described as someone who wanders aimlessly (yingfeng er you 迎風而遊), returns to simplicity (gui baisu 歸白素), and has a penchant for playing the zither (qin 琴). These may be typical Daoist motifs but they do not explicitly reveal the text’s connection to the Zhuangzi; that can be seen in its opening section where the Master alludes to Red River and Crooked Shaft.4 Having wandered aimlessly along the banks of Red River and ascended the peak of Hidden Hill (yin ben 隱坌), the Master stopped to look at the vastness before him, sitting down with an exasperated huff. Resting, he returned to simplicity, and in this idle state he began playing his zither.5 Having described the Master as such, Ruan Ji then introduces the interlocutors: a group of Confucians eager to do battle over what they took to be Zhuangzi’s egregious misrepresentation of the sage (i.e., Confucius): Heavenly Dao treasures life, earthly Dao treasures loyalty, and the sage cultivates both, thereby establishing his name. Furthermore, good and bad fortune have their allocation, right and wrong have their standard, men work for profit and esteem power, all the while hating death and treasuring life. There is thus peace in the world and great deeds are accom-

2  References to Ruan’s works are to Chen Bojun’s 陳伯君 edition. For an English translation of “Da Zhuang lun,” see Holzman 1976: 102–109. All translations are my own unless stated otherwise. 3  Ji Kang’s “Sound is without Grief or Joy” (Sheng wu Aile lun 聲無哀樂論) also refers to its principal character as Master. As for Ruan Ji’s spokesman, Donald Holzman (1976: 99) says it is neither Zhuangzi nor Ruan Ji but someone speaking in the spirit of Ruan Ji. The Chinese commentary begs to differ, stating: “Master is what Ruan Ji calls himself 先生, 阮籍自謂.” 4  References to the Zhuangzi are to Guo Qingfan’s 郭慶藩 edition. The Red River (chi shui 赤水) alludes to chapter 12 (tiandi 天地) of the Zhuangzi: “The Yellow Emperor was wandering north of the Red River when he ascended the slopes of Kunlun and gazed south 黃帝遊乎赤水之北, 登乎 崑崙之丘而南望.” Guo 1985: 414. Crooked Shaft alludes to chapter 4 (renjianshi 人間世): “Carpenter Shi went to the state of Qi and when he arrived at Crooked Shaft … 匠石之齊, 至乎曲 轅 ⋯⋯.” Guo 1985: 170. 5  On restful idleness, see the story of Ziqi leaning in his chair in chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of the Zhuangzi.

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plished. However, Zhuang Zhou equalizes disaster and fortune, unifies life and death, takes heaven and earth to be one body, and the myriad things of one kind. 天道貴生, 地道貴貞, 聖人修之以建其名。吉凶有分, 是非有經, 務利高勢, 惡死重 生, 故天下安而大功成也。今莊周乃齊禍福而一死生, 以天地為一物, 以萬物為 一指 (Chen 1987: 136).6

Based on the guest’s account, we can see two competing theories at work: the Confucian, wherein the sage endeavors to acquire a reputation by clinging to life without relinquishing his loyalty to others, and the Daoist, which, according to the Confucians, equalizes disaster and fortune, merges life and death, and so forth. What is intriguing about this portrayal of Zhuangzi’s philosophy is that the Confucian’s seem to agree with it: “Great men praise it while small men accept it.” They would, however, promptly recant it: “Is this not a case of creating confusion by discarding what is genuine, all the while believing one is sincere in doing so? 無 乃徼惑以失真, 而自以為誠也” (Chen 1987: 136). Presented with such a question, the Master composes himself with a drawn-out sigh and frames his reply by comparing the knowledge of his guests to the story of a man who rode his horse to Mount Kunlun 崑崙山, never to be heard from again. Although the rider dressed in luxurious garbs and rode the finest horse of his day, the uselessness of doing so became clear once he reached the mountain’s base.7 The reason, the Master says, is that “while formal attire may be the most commonly worn type of garment, and Hua Liu 驊騮 the most commonly ridden breed of horse, neither can be used to fly to the top of Zeng Cheng 增城 or roam in Xuan Pu 玄圃. What is more, the light of Dragon Candle8 燭龍 does not shine in a single hall and the opening to Mount Zhong 鐘山 is not spoken of even in the most secure of rooms 端冕者, 常服之飾; 驊騮者, 凡乘之馬; 非所以矯騰增城之上, 遊玄圃之中也。 且燭龍之光, 不照一堂之上, 鐘山之口, 不談曲室之內” (Chen 1987: 137). In order to put Zhuangzi’s philosophy into terms his guests will appreciate, the Master says: “I will try to sink what is lofty, block the spreading forth of what overflows,

6  On the topic of oneness see, for example, chapter 21 (tianzifang 田子方) of the Zhuangzi, which writes: “Within the world, the myriad things are all one. Obtaining this oneness and making oneself identical to it, the four limbs and hundred joints become but dust and chaff. What is more, life and death, beginning and end, become but day and night such that nothing can perplex you. Why are you concerned with matters of gain and loss or good and bad fortune? 夫天下也者, 萬物之所 一也。得其所一而同焉, 則四支百體將為塵垢, 而死生終始將為晝夜而莫之能滑, 而況得喪 禍福之所介乎.” Guo 1985: 714; and in chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論): “Heaven and earth are one attribute and the myriad things are one horse 天地一指也, 萬物一馬也.” Guo 1985: 66. 7  The horse Hua Liu is mentioned in chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水) of the Zhuangzi: “Thoroughbreds like Qi Ji and Hua Liu can gallop one thousand li in a day, but when it comes to catching a rat, they are incomparable to the wildcat or weasel; this illustrates their difference in skill 騏驥驊騮, 一日 而馳千里, 捕鼠不如狸狌, 言殊技也.” Guo 1985: 580. 8  Dragon Candle does not appear in the Zhuangzi; however, it does appear in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing 山海經) as well as the “Heavenly Questions” (tianwen 天問) text by Qu Yuan 屈原 (ca. 340–278 BCE), which says: “When the north-east gate is opened, what kind of qi passes through? Is there somewhere the sun’s light does not reach, the Dragon Candle does not alight? 西北闢啟, 何氣通焉。日安不到, 燭龍何照.” Jin 1996: 319.

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and share with you the reasons why, but how much of it will you comprehend? 今 吾將墜崔巍之高, 杜衍謾之流, 言子之所由, 幾其寤而獲及乎” (Chen 1987: 137).9 From this point forward, until the penultimate paragraph of the Essay, the Master rhapsodizes over the Zhuangzi, inserting his own creative flourishes along the way. He begins by outlining a cosmogony evocative of Zhuangzi’s without necessarily repeating it. The practice of Xuanxue thinkers to supplement their interpretations of the “three texts of profundity” (san xuan 三玄)—Yijing 易經, Daodejing 道德經, Zhuangzi 莊子—with vocabulary and motifs from their own times, is more than apparent in Ruan Ji’s writings. Specifically, Ruan Ji does not speak of Dao 道 as the sole creative source of the universe in isolation, but adds Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 and the five agents (wuxing 五行) to the mix. The result is that the ontological discourse on non-being (wu 無) and being (you 有) seen in the Zhuangzi becomes conjoined with themes associated with Huang-Lao 黃老 cosmology. The idea is that Yin-­ Yang, wuxing, and qi 氣 (breath, vital essence), create the universe as we know it and because they spontaneously (ziran 自然) coalesce together, the sage is betteroff following them than the ineffable Dao. In other words, Ruan Ji, unlike Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) but very much like Ji Kang 嵇康 (223–262 CE), relegates Dao to the limelight with his favoring of ziran as that which informs the life-praxis of the sage. If we wish to retrace the development of ziran from its mature form, as that which renders Dao obsolete for Guo Xiang 郭象 (ca. 252–312  CE), back to its original use as a qualitative characteristic of Dao in the Daodejing and Zhuangzi, the split, one could argue, commences with Ruan Ji. Returning to the Essay, the first argumentative volley of the Master’s re-­education of his Confucian guests is as follows: “Heaven and earth were born spontaneously, hence the myriad things are born from heaven and earth. Since there is nothing beyond spontaneity, heaven and earth thus derive their name from it. Given heaven and earth contain things in their midst, the myriad things are born as a result 天地 生於自然, 萬物生於天地。自然者無外, 故天地名焉。天地者有內, 故萬物生 焉” (Chen 1987: 138). This is not a direct quotation from the Zhuangzi but a reformulation of the following passage from chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊): “The bright and shining are born from deep darkness, the ordered is born from the formless, and pure spirit is born from Dao. The body is originally born from this purity, and so the myriad things give bodily form to one another through the process of birth 夫昭昭 生於冥冥, 有倫生於無形, 精神生於道, 形本生於精, 而萬物以形相生” (Guo 1985: 741). Having provided numerous examples of how this takes place, the Master presents the first of several conclusions: “If you look at things from the perspective of their difference, then there is liver and gall, Chu and Yue; if you look at things from the perspective of their similarity, then the myriad things are one body 自其異者視  This exchange is modeled after a similar one in chapter 13 (tiandao 天道) of the Zhuangzi wherein: “Confucius went to visit Lao Dan but Lao Dan refused to see him. Confucius, unpacking his twelve Classics, began to read them. Lao Dan interrupted him, saying: This will take too long, just give me the essence of it! 往見老聃, 而老聃不許, 於是繙十二經以說。老聃中其說, 曰大 謾, 願聞其要.” Guo 1985: 477–478. 9

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之, 則肝膽楚越也; 自其同者視之, 則萬物一體也” (Chen 1987: 139).10 Comparing Ruan Ji’s text with the Zhuangzi, we notice two things: first, in the Zhuangzi the speaker is Confucius while Ruan Ji uses the ambiguous “thus it is said;” second, the final clause of this statement has Zhuangzi metaphorically arguing for the oneness of things while Ruan Ji literally takes them to be of one body. The phrase “one body” is used four times in the Zhuangzi: two are about the equalization of life and death, one is a sophistic statement by Zhuangzi’s friend Hui Shi 惠施, while the last speaks of the sage piercing the cloud of confusion enveloping things in order to glean their interconnectedness.11 Before he shows why autonomy or co-dependency does not arise from a thing’s inborn nature or moral perfection but the perspective from which it is approached, the Master gives us a clue when he returns to his doctrine of spontaneous cosmology: Man is born between heaven and earth and so his body spontaneously assumes its form. His body is the accumulation of the qi of Yin and Yang, his inborn nature is the proper nature of the five agents, his feelings are the ever-changing desires of his wandering soul, and his spirit is that upon which he rides throughout the universe. To speak from the perspective of birth, there are no things that are not long lived; to deduce from the perspective of death, there are no things that do not die young.

人生天地之中, 體自然之形。身者, 陰陽之精氣也。性者, 五行之正性也。情者, 遊魂之變欲也。神也, 天地之所以馭者也。以生言之, 則物無不壽, 推之以死, 則 物無不夭 (Chen 1987: 140).

The Master continues: The child who dies is long-lived and Pengzu died young. The autumn hair can be taken as large and Mount Tai can be taken as small. In this way, life and death are of one kind and right and wrong are of one category.

殤子為壽, 彭祖為夭; 秋毫為大, 太山為小, 故以死生為一貫, 是非為一條也 (Chen 1987: 140).12

10  Compare with the following from chapter 5 (dechongfu 德充符) of the Zhuangzi: “If you look at things from the perspective of their difference, then there is liver and gall, Chu and Yue; if you look at things from the perspective of their similarity, then the myriad things are all one 自其異者視之, 肝膽楚越也; 自其同者視之, 萬物皆一也.” Guo 1985: 190. 11  (1) Zhuangzi chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師): “Who can take non-being as the head, life as the backside, and death as the bottom? Who can know that life and death, existence and annihilation, are but one body? 孰能以無為首, 以生為脊, 以死為尻, 孰知生死存亡之一體者.” Guo 1985: 258; (2) chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊): “Are life and death dependent upon one another? Both possess what makes them one body 死生有待邪?皆有所一體.” Guo 1985: 763; (3) chapter 25 (zeyang 則陽): “The sage comprehends the interweaving of things, hence they surround him as one body 聖人達綢繆, 周盡一體矣.” Guo 1985: 880; and (4) chapter 33 (tianxia 天下): “When compassion overflows amongst the myriad things, heaven and earth will be as one body 氾愛萬物, 天 地一體也.” Guo 1985: 1102. 12  This passage is based on that from chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of the Zhuangzi: “There is nothing larger in the world than the tip of an autumn hair and Mount Tai is small. No one lives longer than a dead child and Pengzu died young 天下莫大於秋豪之末而泰山為小; 莫壽乎殤子, 而彭 祖為夭.” Guo 1985: 79.

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Adopting the notion of equalization by way of the Zhuangzi’s relativism, Ruan Ji questions the validity of commonly held metaphysical truths, holding the underlying principle behind every change is due to spontaneity.13 The weaving together of Zhuangzian relativism and Ruan Ji’s naturalistic spontaneity continues in the seventh section of the text. Starting with the claim that “to speak of them separately, beard and eyebrow are different names; to speak of them together, both are hairs of the body 別而言之, 則鬚眉異名; 合而說之, 則體之一毛也” (Chen 1987: 142)14 shows Ruan Ji’s willingness to fuse passages from different chapters of the Zhuangzi to create a language akin in spirit to the original without copying it verbatim. The reason he does so is that “the words of the six Classics teach us the allotment of position, but Zhuang Zhou’s sayings extend his words to their utmost 彼 六經之言, 分處之教也; 莊周之云, 致意之辭也” (Chen 1987: 142).15 This is because “those who follow what is spontaneous envelope themselves in heaven and earth, and so can speak of the vast and profound 循自然, 小天地者, 寥廓之談也” (Chen 1987: 142). This statement lays out wherein Ruan Ji differs from Zhuangzi. The words of the sages of old have their insights, all Xuanxue thinkers recognize this, but said words fail to convey the uninhibited naturalism found in the Daodejing and Zhuangzi insofar as they do not recognize the limitation of the very words they

 See, for example, Zhuangzi chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北游): “Whether he lives to old age or dies young, they are hardly different—just instants apart, one might say. How is this enough to call Yao and Jie good or bad? 雖有壽夭, 相去幾何; 須臾之說也。奚足以為堯, 桀之是非.” Guo 1985: 744; chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水): “If you calculate all that man knows, it cannot compare to all that he does not know; if you calculate the time that man is alive, it cannot compare to the time before his birth. Man takes what is truly small and tries to exhaust the scope of what is truly large, thus he is confused and flustered, unable to get a grip on himself. Looked at in this way, how do we know the tip of an autumn hair is the standard for what is truly small! How do we know that heaven and earth can fully exhaust the scope of what is truly large 計人之所知, 不若其所不知; 其生之時, 不 若未生之時。以其至小, 求窮其至大之域, 是故迷亂而不能自得也。由此觀之, 又何以知毫 末之足以定至細之倪!又何以知天地之足以窮至大之域.” Guo 1985: 568. Regarding the spontaneity of human life, we can once again cite chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北游): “Man’s life is an assembling of qi. If it comes together, there is life; if it disperses, there is death 人之生, 氣之聚也, 聚則為生, 散則為死.” Guo 1985: 733. 14  The Zhuangzi speaks of facial hair in chapter 13 (tiandao 天道): “Still water reflects a clear image of beard and eyebrows 水靜則明燭鬚眉.” Guo 1985: 457. The use of different names appears in chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊): “The terms—complete, universal, all-inclusive—are three different names with the same reality; all point to the same thing 周, 遍, 咸三者, 異名同實, 其指一也.” Guo 1985: 750. 15  On the Classics, the Zhuangzi chapter 33 (tianxia 天下) writes: “Regarding the Poetry, Documents, Rites, and Music, many scholars, officials, and gentlemen of Zou and Lu can understand them. The Book of Poetry speaks to the will, the Book of Documents speaks to affairs, the Book of Rites speaks to actions; the Book of Music speaks to harmony, the Classic of Changes speaks to Yin and Yang, and the Spring and Autumn Annals speaks to names and duties 其在於詩 書禮樂者, 鄒魯之士搢紳先生多能明之。詩以道志, 書以道事, 禮以道行, 樂以道和, 易以道 陰陽, 春秋以道名分.” Guo 1985: 1067. 13

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revere and propound, rendering their speech one-sided.16 The problem with one-­ sided thinking, according to Ruan Ji, is that it is only concerned with itself, not the root of the self: “Those in later times knew of this difference [between name and actuality] but did not look for the root; when each person says there is only myself and that is all, how can one know others? 然後世之好異者不顧其本, 各言我而已 矣, 何待旌彼” (Chen 1987: 142). And so, people with this state of mind “injure life and harm the inborn nature, even becoming their own enemy … [such that] disease sprouts forth, the will to live is exhausted, misfortune and disaster arise, and the myriad things are injured 殘生害性, 還為讐敵 ⋯⋯ 故疾疢萌則生意盡, 禍亂作 則萬物殘矣” (Chen 1987: 142).17 With these consequences in mind, the Master proceeds to explicate the qualities of the Daoist sage: “The sage is tranquil in life and quiescent in death. Being tranquil in life, his feelings do not result in confusion; being quiescent in death, his spirit never departs. Thus, he transforms with Yin and Yang without changing, and follows the alternations of heaven and earth without moving 至人者, 恬於生而靜 於死。生恬則情不惑, 死靜則神不離, 故能與陰陽化而不易, 從天地變而不移” (Chen 1987: 144). In this way, “those who hide themselves find it easy to live, but those who depart from the root find it difficult to live for long 此則潛身者則易以 為活, 而離本者難以永存也” (Chen 1987: 144). Quietude and stillness are, therefore, fundamental qualities of the sage and lend themselves to a universal harmony (he 和) utterly alien to the Confucian gentleman. It seems that Ruan Ji is attempting to meld the Zhuangzi’s notion of spontaneity and harmony in order to escape the political ills plaguing his day. We see something similar in Ji Kang’s writings but not in those by Wang Bi and Guo Xiang. Be that as it may, Ruan Ji is clearly defending the Zhuangzi and he does so by employing a mixture of philosophical, historical, and literary sources. The next section of the Essay is the longest and most queer. Although it mentions the characters Feng Yi 馮夷, Jo of the Northern Sea 海若, Cloud Chief 雲將, and Big Concealment 鴻蒙 from the Zhuangzi,18 its substance is a mix of Huang-Lao cosmology, Zhuangzian philosophy, and Ruan Ji’s own imagination. To illustrate, the Master says: “To preserve what one has is to have that which can be relied on; to cling to what one does not have is to have nothing to hold onto 守其有者有據, 持其 無者無執” the moral of which is: “A mountain is quiet and a valley deep because of the spontaneity of Dao; to acquire Dao and become upright, this is the fulfillment of

 On the limitation of things, see Zhuangzi chapter 33 (tianxia 天下): “The truly large has nothing beyond it and so it is called the Great One. The truly small has nothing within it and so it is called the Small One 至大無外, 謂之大一; 至小無內, 謂之小一.” Guo 1985: 1102. As for one-sided speech, see chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水): “Dao cannot be discussed with a cramped scholar for he is chained to his doctrines 曲士不可以語於道者, 束於教也.” Guo 1985: 563. 17  To read about Ji Kang’s views on maintaining one’s health so as to avoid premature death, see Chai 2017a. 18  Feng Yi appears in chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師), Jo of the Northern Sea in chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水), while Cloud Chief and Big Concealment appear together in chapter 11 (zaiyou 在宥).

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the gentleman 夫山靜而股深者, 自然之道也; 得之道而正者, 君子之實也” (Chen 1987: 145). Thus, if the “principle of spontaneity cannot be carried out, heaven and earth cannot be peaceful, and the sun and moon will struggle with one another 故自 然之理不得作, 天地不泰而日月争隨” (Chen 1987: 145). Once this happens, sincerity becomes false,19 benevolence empty,20 sons turn against their fathers and officials spread chaos throughout the land,21 scholars cultivate themselves in order to show the weakness of others,22 and so forth. Having said as much, the Master thereupon offers a decidedly harsh critique of the Confucian way of life: “When the path to fame and wealth opens, true loyalty and sincerity decline; when the words right and wrong appear, pure and honest feelings melt away 是以名利之途開, 則忠信之 誠薄; 是非之辭著, 則醇厚之情爍也” (Chen 1987: 145–146).23 We can conclude two things about this sentence: first, it brims with political discontent; second, it reveals Ruan Ji’s displeasure with how the Confucian gentry have co-opted the intellectual heritage of China in order to further their collective social standing. It also marks a turning point in the Essay. The Master no longer speaks of spontaneity in an onto-cosmological sense but harmony qua non-deliberate doing (無為 wuwei), and how the misuse of language has led to the destruction of the principle  The Master’s words—“He who speaks repeatedly and seeks the trust of others is no more sincere than those living beneath a bridge 故復言以求信者, 梁下之誠也.” Chen 1987: 145—are derived from Zhuangzi chapter 29 (daozhi 盜跖): “Wei Sheng arranged to meet a girl beneath a bridge but she failed to appear. As the [river] water rose, he did not leave but hugged a pillar and drowned 尾 生與女子期於梁下, 女子不來, 水至不去, 抱梁柱而死.” Guo 1985: 998. 20  The Master’s words—“He who restrains himself for the sake of benevolence is no more benevolent than those living beyond the city’s outer wall 克己以為仁者, 郭外之仁也.” Chen 1987: 145–146—are derived from Zhuangzi chapter 28 (rangwang 讓王): “Yan Hui, replying to Confucius, said: I do not want to serve at court. Beyond the city wall, I have 50 mu of land, which is enough to produce gruel. Within the city wall, I have ten mu of land, which is enough to produce silk and hemp 顏回對曰: 不願仕。回有郭外之田五十畝, 足以給饘粥; 郭內之田十畝, 足以為 絲麻.” Guo 1985: 978. 21  The Master’s words—“He who would cut the stomach or slice the flesh of others is an official bringing chaos to the kingdom 刳腹割肌者, 亂國之臣也.” Chen 1987: 146—are derived from Zhuangzi chapter 29 (daozhi 盜跖): “Bi Gan had his heart cut out, Zi Xu had his eyes gouged out; loyalty is what caused their misfortune. Upright Gong testified against his father and Wei Sheng was killed by drowning; trustworthiness is what caused their suffering 比干剖心, 子胥抉眼, 忠之 禍也; 直躬證父, 尾生溺死, 信之患也.” Guo 1985: 1007. 22  The Master’s words—“He who bathes with luxuriant flowers and drapes himself with misty vapor is a scholar who confuses the world 濯菁華, 被沆瀣者, 昏世之士也.” Chen 1987: 146—are derived from Zhuangzi chapter 15 (liuyi 刻意): “Constrained in will yet lofty in action, detached from the world yet different from its customs, advanced in discourse yet resentful and condemning, being nothing but haughty—such is the scholar who lives in the mountain valley; a man not for this world, withered, he wished only to plunge into the abyss 刻意尚行, 離世異俗, 高論怨誹, 為亢而 已矣, 此山谷之士, 非世之人, 枯槁赴淵者之所好也.” Guo 1985: 535. 23  Zhuangzi chapter 29 (daozhi 盜跖) reads: “Zi Zhang said to Man Goude: Why don’t you think more about your actions? Without action there will be no trust, without trust there will be no appointment, and with no appointment there will be no profit … Man Goude replied: The shameless get rich, the overly trusting get famous … Now, you do things for reputation while I do them for profit. However, the reality of reputation and profit do not accord with natural order or reflect Dao 子張問 於滿苟得曰: 盍不為行?無行則不信, 不信則不任, 不任則不利 ⋯⋯ 滿苟得曰: 無恥者富, 多信 者顯 ⋯⋯ 且子正為名, 我正為利。名利之實, 不順於理, 不監於道.” Guo 1985: 1002–1005. 19

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of spontaneity (ziran zhi li 自然之理). He says: “While the extreme of perfect Dao is mixed-up and without division, coming together in one body such that gain and loss are unheard of 故至道之極, 混一不分, 同為一體, 乃失無聞24 … when great equality is pure and firm 大均淳固 … right and wrong will not be quarreled over and the myriad things will return to whence they came, fulfilling their fate 是非無 所爭。故萬物反其所而得其情也” (Chen 1987: 150).25 Letting things return to a state of equanimity on their own terms such that they do not alter their inborn nature is wuwei. Wuwei cannot succeed, however, so long as words dominate the heart-­ mind, which is why the next section of the Essay has the Master say: “After Confucius and Mozi, discussants of hard and white arose in succession, good and bad fortune were attached to things, gain and loss entered the heart-mind, groups of followers came into being, and debaters invaded one another’s speech 儒墨之後, 堅 白並起, 吉凶連物, 得失在心, 結徒聚黨, 辯說相侵” (Chen 1987: 151).26 The argument that everyone, save Zhuangzi, contributed to Dao’s decline in the world is not a new; Ji Kang said as much,27 as did Zhuangzi. Ruan Ji’s description of how this decline unfolded during his own lifetime is what makes it so memorable.  Discussion of a chaotic world can be found in chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性) of the Zhuangzi: “The men of antiquity, living in a time of chaotic crudeness, were in unison with the world and so attained aloof tranquility. During that time, Yin and Yang were harmonized and still, ghosts and spirits were not mischievous, the four seasons attained their cycle, the myriad things were unharmed, and life in its collectivity did not die prematurely. Though men had knowledge, they did not use it and this was known as perfect oneness 古之人, 在混芒之中, 與一世而得澹漠焉。當 是時也, 陰陽和靜, 鬼神不擾, 四時得節, 萬物不傷, 群生不夭, 人雖有知, 無所用之, 此之謂至 一.” Guo 1985: 550. 25  On the source of right and wrong, the Zhuangzi has much to say. Chapter 10 (quqie 胠篋) writes: “Men like Zeng, Shi, Yang, Mo, music master Kuang, artisan Chui, and Li Zhu all showed their virtue externally, blinding and confusing the world as a result 彼曾, 史, 楊, 墨, 師曠, 工倕, 離朱, 皆外立其德, 而以爚亂天下者也.” Guo 1985: 353; chapter 18 (zhile 至樂) reads: “The world cannot decide what is right and what is wrong, and yet wuwei can decide this 天下是非果未可定 也。雖然, 無為可以定是非.” Guo 1985: 612; chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水) writes: “To know that right and wrong cannot be separated … seen from the view of one’s liking, to regard a thing as right because it has a rightness to it, then amongst the myriad things none will not be right. To regard a thing as wrong because it has a wrongness to it, then amongst the myriad things none will not be wrong 知是非之不可為分 …… 以趣觀之, 因其所然而然之, 則萬物莫不然; 因其所非而非之, 則萬物莫不非.” Guo 1985: 574–578; and chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性) states: “Those in antiquity who wanted to keep their bodies intact did not use disputation to decorate knowledge, did not use knowledge to impoverish the world, nor use knowledge to impoverish virtue. They properly kept to their places and returned to their inborn nature. What else could they have done? 古之行身者, 不以辯飾知, 不以知窮天下, 不以知窮德, 危然處其所而反其性, 己又何為哉.” Guo 1985: 556. 26  Blaming Confucius and Mozi 墨子 was one of Zhuangzi’s favorite pastimes, as seen in this passage from chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論): “How can Dao be concealed as if it itself were genuine or false? How can words be concealed as if they themselves were right or wrong? When Dao depends on small achievements and words depend on vain display, we will thus have the right and wrong of Confucius and Mozi. What one calls right, the other calls wrong; what one calls wrong, the other calls right. However, if we want to right their wrongs and wrong their rights, the best thing to use is illumination 道惡乎隱而有真偽? 言惡乎隱而有是非? 道惡乎往而不存? 言惡乎存而不可? 道隱於小成, 言隱於榮華。故有儒, 墨之是非, 以是其所非, 而非其所是。欲是其所非而非其 所是, 則莫若以明.” Guo 1985: 63. 27  See my chapter on Ji Kang in this Companion. 24

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Coveting the beauty of pearls and jade (mei zhuyu 美珠玉), curtains and other wall hangings (shi wei qiang 飾帷牆), flattering those outside one’s home while deceiving those within it (ru qi fuxiong 入欺父兄), exaggerating one’s skills and knowledge (jiaoli caizhi 矯厲才智), competing and chasing after anything and everything (jingzhu zongheng 競逐縱橫), these, the Master notes, result in the failure of families and kingdoms alike to “reach the end of their naturally given lifespan, for they cut-off attachment to anything but the world’s vulgarity 故不終其天年而夭, 自割 繫其於世俗也” (Chen 1987: 151–152).28 The only thing that does not adhere to such a path, and can hence live an exceedingly long time, is the useless tree29 for, in the words of the Master, “the trees on the mountain, though it is their nature to grow tall, do not injure one another 是以山中之木, 本大而莫相傷;” this is because they live in harmony with Dao, and said harmony even applies to their spontaneous creation of music, for “when the wind blows through the myriad apertures they respond together, suddenly stopping of their own accord 吹萬數竅相和, 忽焉自已” (Chen 1987: 152).30 Such is the wuwei of Nature. As we approach the end of the Essay, the Master’s tone becomes more acerbic: “The separation of words is speech that ruins Dao; the turning over of arguments is the beginning of virtue’s injury 夫別言者, 壞道之談也; 折辯者, 毀德之端也” (Chen 1987: 155). When he speaks of Daoism, however, the Master has nothing but praise: “Zhuang Zhou saw things as they were and so explained the wonderment of

28  On completing one’s naturally allotted lifespan, chapter 4 (renjianshi 人間世) of the Zhuangzi has this to say: “After Carpenter Shi returned home, the oak tree appeared in his dream [saying] … The cherry apple, pear, orange, citron, and all other fruiting trees and shrubs, once their fruit is ripe, they are torn apart and abused. Large branches are broken, small branches are pulled upon. Their usefulness brings them suffering, hence they cannot complete their heavenly-given years but die prematurely 匠石歸, 櫟社見夢曰 ⋯⋯ 夫柤, 梨, 橘, 柚, 果, 蓏之屬, 實熟則剝, 剝則辱, 大枝折, 小枝泄。此以其能苦其生者也, 故不終其天年而中道夭.” Guo 1985: 172. 29  See chapter 1 (xiaoyaoyou 逍遙遊) of the Zhuangzi: “Huizi said to Zhuangzi: I have a large tree called a shu. Its trunk is too gnarled and rough to use a measuring line, its branches too bent and twisty to apply a compass or square 惠子謂莊子曰: 吾有大樹, 人謂之樗。其大本擁腫而不中 繩墨, 其小枝卷曲而不中規矩.” Guo 1985: 39; chapter 4 (renjianshi 人間世): “Carpenter Shi went to the state of Qi and arriving at Crooked Shaft, he saw a great oak tree next to the village shrine … Carpenter Shi replied: This tree is worthless tree. Use it to make a boat and it will sink, use it to make a coffin and it will rot, use it to make a food vessel and it will break immediately, use it to make a door and it will ooze sap, use it to make a column and insects will consume it. This tree is not for timber. It is utterly useless, thus it is able to grow this old 匠石之齊, 至乎曲轅, 見 櫟社樹 ⋯⋯ 散木也, 以為舟則沈, 以為棺槨則速腐, 以為器則速毀, 以為門戶則液樠, 以為柱 則蠹。是不材之木也, 無所可用, 故能若是之壽.” Guo 1985: 170–171; and chapter 20 (shanmu 山木): “Zhuangzi was walking in the mountains whereupon he saw a great tree, its branches and leaves thick and lush. A lumberjack stopped next to it but took no action. Zhuangzi asked the reason and the lumberjack said: It is utterly useless 莊子行於山中, 見大木, 枝葉盛茂, 伐木者止其 旁而不取也。問其故曰: 無所可用.” Guo 1985: 667. 30  The piping of trees is taken from chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of the Zhuangzi: “Ziyou said: Earthly piping is the sound of these hollows and human piping is the sound of flutes and whistles, but what of the piping of heaven? Ziqi replied: Blowing on the myriad things in a myriad of ways, each remains itself, only taking what they need. But who does the sounding? 子游曰: 地籟則眾竅 是已, 人籟則比竹是已。敢問天籟。子綦曰: “夫吹萬不同, 而使其自己也, 咸其自取, 怒者其 誰邪.” Guo 1985: 49–50. For more on the relationship between Dao and music, see Chai 2009 and 2017b, and the chapter by So Jeong Park in this Companion.

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Dao and its virtue, and expounded the root of wuwei. He elaborated upon these with allegory and extended them with fictitious characters, relying on his heart-mind’s enjoyment of wuwei and so wandered carefree his entire life 莊周見其若此, 故述 道德之妙, 敘無為之本, 寓言以廣之, 假物以延之, 聊以娛無為之心而逍遙於一 世” (Chen 1987: 155). Entering the penultimate section of the Master’s winding discourse, we run into a problem. The Master recants his love of Zhuangzi and proclaims his admiration for the virtues of Confucianism, specifically those enabling people to rule and be ruled justly with humaneness (ren 仁). It is a Confucian form of wuwei if you will: “A man good at connecting with people leads them and nothing more; he never opposes them. Thus, Gongmeng Jizi wore embroidered robes when seeing Mozi and was not criticized for doing so. Prince Mou of Zhongshan was keen to serve Wei and Zhanzi did not stop him 夫善接人者, 導焉而已, 無所逆 之。故公孟季子衣繡而見, 墨子弗攻; 中山子牟心在魏闕, 而詹子不距” (Chen 1987: 156).31 Recanting his love, the Master thereupon asks: “How is the Zhuangzi worthy of discussion? 且莊周之書何足道哉.” His sudden disdain is expressed in this way: “It is as if he [Zhuangzi] had not heard of the discourse on the Great Beginning of things, nor the profound words of dark antiquity! He can only tell us how not to be harmed by things and how to carry forth in life 猶未聞夫太始之論, 玄古之微言乎!直能不害於物而行以生” (Chen 1987: 156). The Master’s justification is this: “When things are not injured and the spirit is made clear, when I have form and spirit, and when Dao and its virtue are complete, then loyalty and trust will not vanish and the upper and lower realms will be in peace 物無所毀而神以清, 形神在我而道德成, 忠信不離而上下平” (Chen 1987: 156).32 And yet, peace in the upper and lower realms, presumably referring to heaven and earth, can only come about via harmony with Dao, and conjoining with Dao is to return to its root, a message reiterated over and over again in pre-Qin

31  The exchange between Prince Mou and Zhanzi is taken from chapter 28 (rangwang 讓王) of the Zhuangzi: “Prince Mou of Zhongshan was speaking with Zhanzi when he said: My body is with the rivers and seas but my heart-mind dwells in the palace of Wei. What should I do? Zhanzi answered: Give more weight to life. If you give more weight to life, profit will become less important. Prince Mou of Zhongshan responded: I know this but I am unable to overcome my inclinations. Yanzi thus replied: If you cannot overcome your inclinations then follow them, but will this not injure the spirit? If you cannot overcome your inclinations and try to force yourself not to follow them, this will lead to a double injury. Men who inflict a double injury on themselves are not found amongst the long-lived 中山公子牟謂瞻子曰: 身在江海之上, 心居乎魏闕之下, 奈何? 瞻子曰: 重生。重生則利輕。中山公子牟曰: 雖知之, 未能自勝也。瞻子曰: 不能自勝則從, 神無惡乎? 不能自勝而強不從者, 此之謂重傷。重傷之人, 無壽類矣.” Guo 1985: 979–980. 32  On avoiding self-injury and keeping the spirit whole, see chapter 19 (dasheng 達生) of the Zhuangzi: “To nourish one’s body one must first turn to things, however, one can have many things and still not nourish the body. To have life one must first prevent it from departing the body, however, one can keep life within the body and still not preserve it … Barrier Keeper Yin said: One such as this guards what is of heaven and keeps it whole. His spirit is without flaw hence things cannot enter [and cause him harm] 養形必先之以物, 物有餘而形不養者有之矣; 有生必先無離 形, 形不離而生亡者有之矣 ⋯⋯ 關尹曰: 夫若是者, 其天守全, 其神無郤, 物奚自入焉.” Guo 1985: 630–636. In a similar vein, chapter 20 (shanmu 山木) states: “Zhuangzi, laughing, said: … to treat a thing as a thing without letting them treat you as a thing, how can you get into trouble! This is the model of Shennong and the Yellow Emperor 莊子笑曰 ⋯⋯ 物物而不物於物, 則胡可 得而累邪!此黃帝, 神農之法則也.” Guo 1985: 668.

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Daoism and Xuanxue alike. It would seem that the Master’s attack is actually targeting two different aspects of the Zhuangzi: the metaphysical and the interpretive. After all, his guests came to him in order to dispel their misgivings about the text, which might explain why Ruan Ji had the Master end this section of the Essay by saying: “You, my guests, talk of the present but cling to antiquity; your words may be the same but your meaning differs. Your heart-mind is able to preserve the root but what issues from your mouths has no resemblance to it at all! 茲客今談而同古, 齊說而意殊, 是心能守其本, 而口發不相須也” (Chen 1987: 156–157). The Essay concludes with the Confucians being shocked and awed by the spectacle before them, “hurriedly departing, tripping and stumbling as they went. As they recalled the Master, they came to realize how baseless their knowledge was. They lost their qi and were ashamed of their weak and eccentric ways 足唐失跡, 隨而望之, 耳後頗亦以是, 知其無實喪氣而慚愧於衰僻也” (Chen 1987: 158). Ruan Ji thus proves victorious in defending his beloved Zhuangzi whilst still managing to imbue Confucianism with a modicum of relevance. Indeed, the Zhuangzi offered him a way to synthesize and make coherent all that he felt and wished for in society—a collective spontaneity managed by way of wuwei.

2  The Spontaneity of Wuwei With our outline now complete, we can turn to the question raised by the guests at the start of the Essay: Is the Zhuangzi’s doctrine of oneness not misleading the world by discarding what is genuine?” The weight of this question hinges on what is meant by genuine. For Ruan Ji, it is Dao, however, the means by which the world understands Dao has changed since the time of the ancient sages. This is why the Essay ends with the Master accusing the guests of repeating their words without realizing their meaning has changed, the significance of which is that their discourse misses the mark, despite holding fast to Dao in their heart-mind. If we are to avoid the erroneous thinking of the Confucians we must, Ruan Ji argues, return to spontaneity; however, becoming spontaneous requires we first conjoin with things by mastering wuwei. This is easier said than done and so Ruan Ji gives real-world examples to demystify the process. We can see this at the beginning of the Essay where the Master observes how “earth flows with dryness and heaven opposes dampness; the moon arises in the East and the sun sets in the West 地流其燥, 天抗其濕。月東出, 日西入” (Chen 1987: 138).33 As earth can be either dry or wet, and heaven hot or cold, they form an inseparable yet complementary pair. Such is why the Master states “division is followed by unification; Yang thus refers to what rises, Yin refers to what declines 隨 以相從, 解而後合, 升謂之陽, 降謂之陰” (Chen 1987: 138). Yin and Yang thus

33  Compare this with chapter 19 (xiuwu 脩務) of the Huainanzi 淮南子: “Jupiter and Saturn progress eastward with each passing day and month but some people say the stars and planets progress westward with each passing day and month. [The sage] takes the majority as his root 攝提鎮星日 月東行, 而人謂星辰日月西移者; 以大氐為本.”

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simultaneously divide and unite one another, forming a cycle of decline and growth common to all things in the universe. Just as Yang gives way to Yin and Yin gives way to Yang, the rising and setting of the sun and moon are subject to the same cycle of change; though the source of this change is itself constant, the resultant manifestation is not. What is more, to hold that the sun and moon rise and set in particular positions is a perspectival-based view already disproved by Zhuangzi. The purpose of providing these examples, it would seem, is not to argue for their temporal or spatial validity but to demonstrate that states of natural compliance and change exist beyond the human sphere of influence. Had he ended his argument here, the Master might have failed to win-over his guests with such abstract motifs, and so he elaborates upon them using more recognizable ones: On earth we speak of the order of things; in heaven we speak of the pattern of things. Steam is what we call rain and scattering is what we call wind; what burns is called fire and what congeals is called ice. Forms are called stones and images are called stars; a new moon marks morning while one that is obscured marks night. What passes through is called a river; what revolves is called a gulf. The leveled is called land while the piled-up is called a mountain. Men and women are of equal standing, mountains and marshes share the same qi, thunder and wind do not intersect one another, and water and fire do not weaken one another. When heaven and earth unite in virtue, the sun and moon harmonize their light and spontaneously form one body. From this, the myriad things follow their normal development. Their entering is called dark seclusion, their emerging is called making bright. This is the rise and decline of singular qi, of transformation that is without injury.

在地謂之理, 在天謂之文。蒸謂之雨, 散謂之風; 炎謂之火, 凝謂之冰; 形謂之石, 象謂之星; 朔謂之朝, 晦謂之冥; 通謂之川, 囘謂之淵; 平謂之土, 積謂之山。男女 同位, 山澤通氣, 雷風不相射, 水火不相薄。天地合其德, 日月順其光, 自然一體, 則萬物經其常, 入謂之幽, 出謂之章, 一氣盛衰, 變化而不傷 (Chen 1987: 138-139).

What is striking about the Master’s account is its richness. Working his way through examples taken from the Zhuangzi,34 the Master seamlessly blends them with others not found therein35 to create an original cosmological account of the world.

 Reference to steam (clouds) and rain can be to any of the following passages in the Zhuangzi: chapter 11 (zaiyou 在宥): “before the qi of clouds gathers, it falls as rain 雲氣不待族而雨.” Guo 1985: 380; chapter 13 (tiandao 天道) “the clouds move and rain is distributed 雲行而雨施矣.” Guo 1985: 476; and chapter 14 (tianyun 天運) “how does a cloud become rain; how does rain become a cloud 雲者為雨乎; 雨者為雲乎.” Guo 1985: 493. Discussion of heavenly objects and constellations are found in Zhuangzi chapter 13 (tiandao 天道): “Heaven and earth have their constancy, the sun and moon have their brightness, the stars and constellations have their arrangement 則天地固有常矣, 日月固有明矣, 星辰固有列矣.” Guo 1985: 479. Ruan Ji’s reference to river and gulf is based on Zhuangzi chapter 7 (yingdiwang 應帝王): “Swirling waves collect to form an abyss, still water collects to form an abyss, and running water collects to form an abyss 鯢 桓之審為淵, 止水之審為淵, 流水之審為淵.” Guo 1985: 302. 35  The Zhuangzi mentions fire and ice, stone, male and female, mountain and valley, but their use here is slightly different. Regarding the character you 幽 (secluded, dark, remote), although Zhuangzi uses it, he prefers ming 冥 when it comes to describing the profundity of Dao or those in a state of oneness with it. As an aside, the character you 幽 does not appear in the Daodejing but ming 冥 does, appearing just once in chapter 21. 34

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The concept of “singular qi” is derived from the Zhuangzi,36 but for Zhuangzi it belongs to the constancy of Dao and cannot exist independent of it. Its rise and fall are hence an internal dynamic akin to the circularity of Yin and Yang.37 It makes sense for Ruan Ji to proceed in this manner because simply repeating the words of Zhuangzi would have fallen on deaf ears. It also goes a long way to demonstrating the need, at least for Xuanxue thinkers like himself, for humanity to follow the uncoerced path of the natural world and to recognize that society’s deviation from it has been to its own detriment. What the above passage teaches us is that the sages of old did not live above-and-beyond this hidden world of co-arising, spontaneous change, and interdependency; on the contrary, it was they who shed light upon the art of wuwei, allowing them to attain oneness with Dao: The paradigmatic person is tranquil in life and quiescent in death. Being tranquil in life, his feelings do not result in confusion; being quiescent in death, his spirit never departs. He thus transforms with Yin and Yang without changing, follow the alternations of heaven and earth without moving. Examining the longevity of life, following the appropriateness of death, his heart-mind and qi are calm and regulated with no sign of deficiency.38 In this way, Guang Chengzi lived on Mount Kongtong and entered the Gate of Limitlessness, while Xuan Yuan ascended the peak of Mount Kunlun, leaving behind the source of his black pearl. This is why those who hide themselves find it easy to live, while those who depart from their root find it difficult to live for long.

至人者, 恬於生而靜於死。生恬則情不惑, 死靜則神不離, 故能與陰陽化而不易, 從天地變而不移。生究其壽, 死循其宜, 心氣平治, 消息不虧。是以廣成子處崆 峒之山以入無窮之門, 軒轅登崑崙之阜而遺玄珠之根, 此則潛身者則易以為活, 而離本者難以永存也”(Chen 1987: 144).39 36  See chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師): “Moreover, things join with the creator as men and wander in the singular qi of heaven and earth 彼方且與造物者為人, 而遊乎天地之一氣.” Guo 1985: 268; see also chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊): “Singular qi penetrates all under heaven. The sage treasures this above all else 通天下一氣耳。聖人故貴一.” Guo 1985: 733. 37  The term sheng shuai盛衰 only appears once in the Zhuangzi in chapter 13 (tiandao 天道): “The myriad things change and grow, their roots and buds each distinct; gradually maturing and decaying, they are a constant flow of change and transformation 萬物化作, 萌區有狀, 盛衰之殺, 變化 之流也.” Guo 1985: 469. There is also the phrase “here rising, there declining” (yisheng yishuai 一盛一衰) which occurs in chapter 14 (tianyun 天運). None of these terms, either on their own or in combination, are associated with qi, except the following from chapter 19 (dasheng 達生): “He appears too fierce and has an abundance of qi 猶疾視而盛氣.” Guo 1985: 655. 38  Zhuangzi chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性): “Those in ancient times who practiced Dao cultivated their knowledge in tranquility; although knowledge lived in them they did not act on its behalf. In this way, we may say they used knowledge to cultivate tranquility. Knowledge and tranquility took turns cultivating each other and harmony and natural order emerged from the inborn nature 古之 治道者, 以恬養知; 知生而無以知為也, 謂之以知養恬。知與恬交相養, 而和理出其性.” Guo 1985: 548; Zhuangzi chapter 15 (liuyi 刻意): “The sage’s life is like the movement of heaven, his death is like the transformation of things. In his quietude his virtue is a mirror of Yin, in his movement his waves are a mirror of Yang 聖人之生也天行, 其死也物化; 靜而與陰同德, 動而與陽同 波.” Guo 1985: 539. 39  Zhuangzi chapter 11 (zaiyou 在宥): “The Yellow Emperor had been on the throne for nineteen years and his edicts were followed throughout the world. Hearing that Guang Chengzi was living atop Mount Kongtong … 黃帝立為天子十九年, 令行天下, 聞廣成子在於空同之上 ⋯⋯.” Guo 1985: 379. Guang Chengzi is the same person in both instances, however, the characters used for

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Ruan Ji is not offering a lesson on self-cultivation, nor is he espousing his philosophical views on death; rather, he is establishing that the life-praxis of the Daoist sage is inextricably bound to the non-dependency of wuwei and the freedom of ziran. The above paragraph is merely the outcome of doing so, as the Master now explains: What these examples tell us is that he who considers himself right will lack merit, and he who establishes himself will lack standing. To preserve what one has is to have that which can be relied on; to cling to what one does not have is to have nothing to hold on to … That a mountain is quiet and a valley deep is because of the spontaneity of Dao; to acquire Dao and become upright is thus the fulfillment of the sage. One who acts upon wisdom and skill will be harmed by things; one who makes clear right and wrong will be endangered by things. One who embellishes things to display their pureness is confused about life; one who fears death and honors life will lose their genuineness. The result is that the principle of spontaneity fails to be carried out, heaven and earth are not peaceful, and the sun and moon contend with one another.

由斯言之, 自是者不章, 自建者不立, 守其有者有據, 持其無者無執 ⋯⋯ 夫山靜而 谷深者, 自然之道也; 得之道而正者, 君子之實也。是以作智巧者害於物, 明著是 非者危其身, 修飾以顯潔者惑於生, 畏死而榮生者失其真。故自然之理不得作, 天地不泰而日月争隨 (Chen 1987: 145).40

All that the Master has thus far argued points to the genuineness of Dao and its principle of spontaneity. We must be careful to remember that ziran for Ruan Ji has yet become the doctrine of lone-transformation (duhua 獨化) advocated by Guo Xiang.41 Although it has been translated as spontaneity throughout this chapter, we can also think of ziran as the naturalness inherent to all things when left to their own devices (i.e., wuwei). In this way, the phrase ziran zhi dao 自然之道 is rendered “naturalness of Dao” while ziran zhi li 自然之理 becomes the “natural order of things.” The idea is to ensure that the sage remains a figure of the world and not one beyond it, which would cast him in an untouchable light of sanctity. If Ruan Ji qua the Master is to convert his Confucian guests to Daoism, he must show them how the Daoist sage not only surpasses the sagacity of Confucius, but that the former is capable of teaching the latter and his followers something profoundly meaningful.

Mount Kongtong are different: the name given by Ruan Ji is genuine—it is a sacred mountain of Daoism in Gansu province—whereas the name used by Zhuangzi is fictitious. Regarding the name Xuan Yuan 軒轅, it was Huangdi’s pseudonym (hao 號). The black pearl appears in chapter 12 (tiandi 天地) of the Zhuangzi: “The Yellow Emperor was wandering north of Red River when he ascended the peak of Mount Kunlun and gazed south. Returning home, he realized he had lost his black pearl 黃帝遊乎赤水之北, 登乎崑崙之丘而南望, 還歸, 遺其玄珠.” Guo 1985: 414. A similar account also appears in chapter 18 (renxian 人閒) of the Huainanzi 淮南子. 40  Zhuangzi chapter 13 (tiandao 天道): “To rest is to be empty, to be empty is be full, and with fullness comes completion 休則虛, 虛則實, 實者倫矣.” Guo 1985: 457; Zhuangzi chapter 22 (zhibeiyou 知北遊): “Heaven cannot but be high, earth cannot but be broad, the sun and moon cannot but move, and the myriad things cannot but flourish. This is the way of Dao 天不得不高, 地不得 不廣, 日月不得不行, 萬物不得不昌, 此其道與.” Guo 1985: 741. 41  See Yuet Keung Lo’s chapter on Guo Xiang in this Companion for more.

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To preserve one’s inborn nature is to hold fast to what is genuine; clinging to something other than the inborn nature is to not hold fast to anything. Such being the case, holding onto the genuine is to freely transform with things whereas chasing after the artificial is to be forcefully changed by things.42 The mountain is an inverse image of the valley and yet, one cannot exist without the other. Embodying the co-arising principle of Yin and Yang, the complementarity of full emptiness and soaring depth is simply a reflection of the genuine nature of Dao and is why the sage endeavors to rectify himself by adhering to its spontaneous equanimity. Those who do not do so are, in Zhuangzi’s words, “upside-down.”43 Furthermore, confusion of life, fear of death whilst cherishing life, cannot but lead to catastrophe such that the accord between heaven and earth is broken, and the sun and moon battle for supremacy in the sky. The Master’s words are, of course, designed to provoke a sense of spiritual doom and gloom, however, they are not without precedent. Zhuangzi’s statement in chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師) is a good case: Hence he who tries to share his joy with others is not a sage; he who shows his feelings is not benevolent; he who adheres to the time of the seasons is not worthy; he who views profit and injury as different is not a gentleman; he who takes action on behalf of names and loses his self in the process is not erudite; and he who loses his body in an unauthentic manner is not fit to be of service to others.

故樂通物, 非聖人也; 有親, 非仁也; 天時, 非賢也; 利害不通, 非君子也; 行名失己, 非士也; 亡身不真, 非役人也 (Guo 1985: 232).

Zhuangzi’s words serve as a warning to the dangers inherent to the Confucian human-centric worldview. In contrast, a Daoist worldview gives rise to a universe wherein: The extreme of perfect Dao is mixed-up and without division, coming together in one body such that gain and loss are unheard of … When great equality is pure, firm, and without double standard, then quiet solitude, open abiding, and good and bad will not be separated, right and wrong will not be quarreled over, and the myriad things will return to whence they came, attaining their natural state.

故至道之極, 混一不分, 同為一體, 得失無聞 ⋯⋯ 大均淳固, 不貳其紀, 清凈寂寞, 空豁以俟, 善惡莫之分, 是非無所争, 故萬物反其所而得其情也” (Chen 1987: 150).44

 See Zhuangzi chapter 5 (dechongfu 德充符): “His judgment is fixed regarding what has no element of falsehood and while other things change, he does not. The transformation of things are but the developments prescribed for them, and so he holds fast to their ancestor 審乎無假, 而不與物 遷, 命物之化, 而守其宗也.” Guo 1985: 189. 43  See Zhuangzi chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性): “To lose one’s self to things, and lose one’s inborn nature to vulgarity, such people are referred to as being upside-down 喪己於物, 失性於俗者, 謂 之倒置之民.” Guo 1985: 558. 44  Zhuangzi chapter 10 (quqie 胠篋): “Men like Zeng, Shi, Yang, Mo, musician Kuang, artisan Chui, and Li Zhu, outwardly displayed their virtue and so blinded and confused the world. As for models, this one is useless 彼曾, 史, 楊, 墨, 師曠, 工倕, 離朱, 皆外立其德, 而以爚亂天下者也, 法之所無用也.” Guo 1985: 353–354; Zhuangzi chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水): “The heavenly is internal, the human is external, the virtuous lies in what is of heaven 天在內, 人在外, 德在乎天.” Guo 1985: 588. 42

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In light of this, The sage clears his character and muddies his patterns such that death and life do not change, and one can speak of the time before things began.

故至人清其質而濁其文, 死生無變而未始有云 (Chen 1987: 152).45

To speak of the time before things existed is to return to a time of undifferentiated wholeness, a time when there was only Dao. Such wonderment of Dao, as we shall soon see, is precisely how Ruan Ji characterizes the Zhuangzi. The impetus for writing the Essay, however, is not to blindly attack the followers of Confucius—which would cast Ruan Ji in a light no different from that of his guests—but to reinvigorate Zhuangzi’s vision of Dao, one being suffocated by the Wei dynasty gentry’s quest for power and fame. To survive in such Yang-dominated times, one must embrace all that is Yin: counter bravado with humbleness, meet aggression with meekness, discard wealth for poverty, wipe away the traces of success, and return to a state of dark-abiding characteristic of wuwei. With this, we reach the final paragraphs of the Essay and encounter the Master’s most vociferous defense of the Zhuangzi. It also offers us a window into the Xuanxue reverence of classical Daoism while exposing its shortcomings for those trying to attain its ideals many centuries later.

3  Ruan Ji on the Merits of the Zhuangzi When it comes to the text bearing Zhuangzi’s name, Ruan Ji’s Master has this to say: Zhuang Zhou saw things were as such and so he expounded the wonderment of Dao and its virtue, and narrated the fundamentals of wuwei. He elaborated upon these with allegory and extended them with fictitious characters, relying on his heart-mind’s enjoyment of wuwei and so wandered carefree his entire life. How could he have hoped to have his theories posted on the gate of Xianyang or debated by members of Jixia?

莊周見其若此, 故述道德之妙, 敍無為之本, 寓言以廣之, 假物以延之, 聊以娛無為 之心而逍遙於一世46; 豈將以希咸陽之門而與稷下爭辯也哉 (Chen 1987: 155).

The first three lines of the Master’s characterization of Zhuangzi are spot-on, but what are we to make of the final line? Having one’s work pasted on the city gate, in this case Xianyang 咸陽, the capital of the Qin dynasty, is an honor any person would be proud of; having one’s work discussed at the Jixia Academy even more so.  Zhuangzi 5 (dechongfu 德充符): “Life and death may be great affairs but they do not change for him 死生亦大矣, 而不得與之變.” Guo 1985: 189; see also Zhuangzi chapter 13 (tiandao 天道): “The ultimate person … examines what has no falsehood and so is unmoved by profit. In seeking the ultimate truth of things, he guards their root. Thus, he puts heaven and earth outside himself, abandons the myriad things, and in doing so they never wear-out his spirit 夫至人 ⋯⋯ 審乎無假 而不與利遷, 極物之真, 能守其本, 故外天地, 遺萬物, 而神未嘗有所困也.” Guo 1985: 486. 46  Zhuangzi chapter 33 (tianxia 天下): “Above he wandered with the creator of things, below he befriended those who were beyond life and death, who knew nothing of beginning or end 上與造 物者遊, 而下與外死生、無終始者為友.” Guo 1985: 1098. 45

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However, Zhuangzi is not an ordinary person and his philosophy is not of the ordinary kind either—it is miao 妙 (marvelous, subtle). How could writing of this nature possibly be condensed into a poster-sized advertisement or debate handbook? It cannot, which is why Ruan Ji asked a rhetorical question instead of making a declarative statement. We face a problem, however, with what the Master says next: A man good at connecting with people leads them and nothing more; he never opposes them. Thus, Gongmeng Jizi wore embroidered robes when seeing Mozi, and was not criticized for doing so. Zimou of Zhongshan was keen to serve Wei and Zhanzi did not suppress him. Following the way of their coming and going is to allow them to reside in their own place; to dispatch and develop them is to let them be at ease with who they are. Moreover, how is the Zhuangzi worthy of discussion? It is as if he had not heard the discourse on the Great Beginning of things, nor the profound words of dark antiquity.

夫善接人者, 導焉而已, 無所逆之。故公孟季子衣繡而見, 墨子弗攻; 中山子牟心 在魏闕, 而詹子不距。因其所以來, 用其所以至, 循而泰之, 使自居之, 發而開之, 使自舒之。且莊周之書何足道哉。猶未聞夫太始之論, 玄古之微言乎 (Chen 1987: 156).

Zhuangzi strongly believes in not forcing things to be anything other than what they naturally are, but this non-interference with the inborn nature of things does not apply to human society or relations when they are removed from Nature. When the Master cites Mozi and Zhanzi as examples of exemplary conduct for following others in their comings and goings, dispatching and developing them so as to allow them to be comfortable with themselves, this is not what Zhuangzi advocated; indeed, as the next line indicates, the Master is setting-up the Zhuangzi for attack, declaring it to be unworthy of discussion. This is a very strange thing to say, and what is even stranger is that the Master accuses Zhuangzi of being unfamiliar with the “Great Beginning of things” and the “profound words of dark antiquity” when Zhuangzi employed said expressions, or slight variations of them, throughout his text!47 Moreover, calling it a book not worth discussing is not to say the Zhuangzi is useless, otherwise why would Ruan Ji defend it as he does in the Essay? What he means is that our lives cannot benefit by the Zhuangzi’s words alone—we must enact them. Due to his historical time being different from Ruan Ji’s, Zhuangzi “could only tell us how not to be harmed by things and how to carry forth in life.” In the Wei dynasty, however, the opposite situation was in play and so the Master bemoans the fact that “when things are not injured and the spirit made clear, when I have form and spirit and Dao and its virtue are complete, then loyalty and trust will not vanish and the upper and lower realms will be in peace 直能不害於物而行以  The expression “dark antiquity” (xuangu 玄古) is from Zhuangzi chapter 12 (tiandi 天地): “The sovereign of dark antiquity governed the world via non-deliberate action, employing the virtue of heaven and that is all 玄古之君天下, 無為也, 天德而已矣.” Guo 1985: 403. The phrase “great beginning” (taishi 太始) is absent from both the Daodejing and Zhuangzi, appearing only once in the first chapter of the Liezi. However, the Zhuangzi is full of instances of taichu 泰初 and weishi 未始, both of which indicate the time before heaven and earth existed (i.e., the great beginning). The Master’s claim is thus baseless. 47

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生, 物無所毀而神以清, 形神在我而道德成, 忠信不離而上下平” (Chen 1987: 156). Clearly the houses of the court were in such disarray during Ruan Ji’s time that loyalty and trust had vanished, virtue was left incomplete, and humanity found itself wanting to unite body and spirit with Dao but unable to do so. The world, therefore, only knew injury and suffering, and people’s spirits roamed uncared for, hence the Master acerbically rebuffed his Confucian guests: You, my guests, talk of the present but cling to antiquity; your words may be the same but your meaning differs. Your heart-mind is able to preserve the root but what issues from your mouths has no resemblance to it at all!

茲客今談而同古, 齊說而意殊, 是心能守其本, 而口發不相須也 (Chen 1987: 156–157).

A number of stories in which Confucius or his disciples are scorned by Daoist sages appear in the Zhuangzi and Ruan Ji no doubt had these in mind when penning the above.48 We can also say his description of the guest’s reaction to being scorned by the Master employs language akin to that seen in the Zhuangzi:49 As a result, the guests shook like the wind and swayed like the waves, looking at one another with wide-open eyes. They hurriedly departed, tripping and stumbling as they went. As they recalled the Master, they came to realize how baseless their knowledge was. They lost their qi and were ashamed of their weak and eccentric ways.

於是, 二三子者, 風搖波蕩, 相視䐱脈, 亂次而退, 踼跌失跡。隨而望之, 耳後頗亦 以是, 知其無實喪氣而慚愧於衰僻也 (Chen 1987: 158).

If there is one thing to take away from the above, it is not the humiliation felt by the guests, nor that they exacerbated the situation by lurching over one another as they tried to flee, but their loss of qi (sang qi 喪氣). This expression does not appear in any pre-Qin Daoist text. Chapter 2 of the Zhuangzi has the expression “lose one’s companion” (sang qi ou 喪其耦), so perhaps Ruan Ji was thinking of this when he devised “sang qi.” The Essay, if anything, is about restoring the qi of Zhuangzi, of reinvigorating the Zhuangzi’s spirit and passion for Dao’s guidance and freedom. Had the Master’s words not produced this effect in his Confucian guests, they would not have come away from their encounter as changed individuals, rendering the Essay weak and unworthy of discussion! Herein lies the irony: Ruan Ji uses the words of the Zhuangzi to reclaim the words of Zhuangzi, giving himself standing in the Wei intellectual community while staying true to his Xuanxue roots. Had he used the words of Laozi to uphold those of Zhuangzi, the Essay would have fallen

48  See, for example, the story of Zhang Wuzi mocking Confucius in chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論), Shushan No-Toes and Laozi mocking Confucius in chapter 5 (dechongfu 德充符), Confucius on being punished by heaven in chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師), Confucius and the gardener in chapter 12 (tiandi 天地), Confucius explaining to Master Sanghu the hardships he faced while traveling in chapter 20 (shanmu 山木), Confucius and Robber Zhi in chapter 29 (daozhi 盜跖), and Confucius and the old fisherman in chapter 31 (yufu 漁父). 49  See Huzi’s encounter with the shaman Ji Xian in chapter 7 (yingdiwang 應帝王), Cheng of North Gate’s reaction to Huangdi playing the qin in chapter 14 (tianyun 天運), Gongsun Long and Prince Mou in chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水), and Confucius and Laozi in chapter 26 (waiwu 外物).

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flat on its face. What Ruan Ji saw in the Zhuangzi was thus a uniquely powerful handling of language whose sole purpose was to strip-bare its power to becloud the genuine nature of things, disrupting their unity with Dao in the process. Though not an original philosophical work, the Essay nevertheless succeeds in calling attention to the life-praxis and onto-cosmological harmony espoused in classical Daoist texts such as the Zhuangzi. What is more, Ruan Ji is the only Xuanxue figure to have written an essay on each of the “three texts of profundity” and for this he must lauded.

4  Conclusion Despite appearing to be a hodge-podge of sayings lifted from the Zhuangzi, Ruan Ji’s “On Comprehending the Zhuangzi” is actually a cleverly constructed compendium of theories and arguments designed to have as great an impact in as compact an exposition as possible. As a valuable member of the Xuanxue movement, Ruan Ji could vent his social-political displeasure by cloaking his words in the ideals and principles of Daoism; that he genuinely believed in Daoism’s ability to improve the human condition while returning the world to its inherently harmonious condition is even more reason to give him the attention he deserves but has thus far failed to receive.

Bibliography Chai, David. 2009. “Musical Naturalism in the Thought of Ji Kang.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 8.2: 151–171. Chai, David. 2017a. “Ji Kang on Nourishing Life.” Frontiers of Philosophy in China, 12.1: 38–53. Chai, David. 2017b. “Zhuangzi and Musical Apophasis.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 16.3: 355–370. Chen, Bojun 陳伯君. 1987. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on Ruan Ji’s Works 阮籍集 校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Criddle, Reed. 2007. “Rectifying Lasciviousness through Mystical Learning: An Exposition and Translation of Ruan Ji’s “Essay on Music”.” Asian Music, 38.2: 44-70. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Holzman, Donald. 1976. Poetry and Politics: The Life and Works of Juan Chi (A.D. 210-263). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jin, Kaicheng 金開誠. 1996. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on Qu Yuan’s Works 屈原 集校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. David Chai is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. He is the author of Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness (2019), and editor of Daoist Encounters with Phenomenology: Thinking Interculturally about Human Existence (2020). His works have appeared in a wide variety of journals and edited anthologies covering the fields of Chinese philosophy, metaphysics, phenomenology, hermeneutics, and comparative philosophy.

Chapter 12

Ji Kang’s “On Dispelling Self-Interest” David Chai

Ji Kang 嵇康 (224–263 CE) was born into a world dominated by the Cao 曹 family. Though their ancestral name was Xi 奚, Ji Kang’s family took the surname name Ji 嵇 after moving from their home (present-day Anhui province) to Mount Ji 嵇山 (present-day Zhejiang province) to avoid being caught-up in the political intrigues that were rampant at the time. Raised by his mother and brother, Ji Kang showed tremendous talent in poetry, philosophical argumentation, and music from a young age. Having married the daughter of Cao Pi 曹丕—also known as Emperor Wen 魏 文帝 (r. 220–226 CE)—Ji Kang would find himself affiliated with a family under attack when Sima Yi 司馬懿 (179–251 CE) usurped the throne in 249 and launched a purge of the Cao clan and its allies. Though Sima Yi died a few years later, his son Sima Zhao 司馬昭 (211–265  CE), followed by his grandson Sima Yan 司馬炎 (236–290 CE)—who would become Emperor Jin Wudi 晉武帝 (r. 265–290 CE)— continued the purge, resulting in Ji Kang’s execution. Ji Kang’s 嵇康 essay “On Dispelling Self-Interest”1 (Shisi lun 釋私論) (hereafter, Essay) is a straightforward piece of argumentation. Lacking the literary flourishes seen in his essays on music and life-nourishment, the purpose of this text is to make a case for the moral openness of the sage. Being morally unbiased, that is, subscribing to the morality of non-morality, is not a form of escapism; rather, Ji Kang believes it is the only way to grasp the essential nature of things while conforming to Dao 道. Those who follow Dao are thus great, while those having selfish goals are small and live in opposition to Dao. If feelings of right and wrong are revealed, Ji Kang says, the person who is morally good will be blame-free should  Translations of Ji Kang’s essays, including the present one, are available in Henricks 1983.

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D. Chai (*) Department of Philosophy, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_12

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these feelings be concealed; if the morally good person happens to be wrong, they cannot be blamed so long as they are aware of their error and work to fix it. In other words, being without self-interest (wusi 無私) is enriching and liberating in that, according to Ji Kang, it is the praxis of complete goodness while simultaneously stimulating those who are not to become so.

1  The Concepts of Public and Private in Classical Daoism For Ji Kang, the concepts of public (gong 公) and private (si 私) were well-worn ideas from antiquity.2 Used by Confucians and Daoists alike, Ji Kang was certainly influenced by the masters of old. However, classical Daoism tended to paint gong and si in metaphysical colors, as testimony of the generosity of heaven and Dao, while Confucianism took these terms as speaking to the moral character of the gentleman (junzi 君子) and his emulation of heaven’s virtue (tiande 天德). Ji Kang combined these two uses to create a metaphysically grounded ethics that remained faithful to the principles of Daoism while attacking those of Confucianism. Before we turn to Ji Kang’s Essay, a brief look at some textual examples from classical Daoism will help give his take on the matter some context.3 We can begin with chapter 1 (tianrui 天瑞) of the Liezi 列子, where gong and si are akin to the virtue of heaven and earth: Master Dongguo said: Have you not already stolen your body? You have stolen the harmony of Yin and Yang to achieve life and sustain your form. How much more so are you stealing the things that are outside you? Indeed, the myriad things cannot be separated from heaven and earth, and to claim any as your own will only lead to confusion. Master Guo’s stealing is common throughout the world and so he escaped calamity; your stealing is out of self-­ interest and so you are accused of wrongdoing. To possess what is public or private is stealing; to not possess what is public or private is also stealing. It is owing to the virtue of heaven and earth that the public stays public, and the private stays private. For one who knows the virtue of heaven and earth, what is there to steal? What is there not to steal?

東郭先生曰: 若一身庸非盜乎? 盜陰陽之和以成若生, 載若形; 況外物而非盜哉? 誠然, 天地萬物不相離也; 仞而有之, 皆惑也。國氏之盜, 公道也, 故亡殃; 若之盜, 私心也, 故得罪。有公私者, 亦盜也; 亡公私者, 亦盜也。公公私私, 天地之德。知 天地之德者, 孰為盜邪? 孰為不盜邪 (Yang 2007: 37–38).

In chapter 1 (daoyuan 道原) of the Wenzi 文子 we read: There is nothing in the world softer than water … Whether in surplus or deficiency, the world relies on receiving what it is given. Shared by the myriad things, water does not decide who is first and who is last. Being neither private nor public, its vastness is identical to that of heaven and earth. This is known as ultimate virtue.

天下莫柔弱於水 ⋯⋯ 有餘不足, 任天下取與, 稟受萬物而無所先後, 無私無公, 與 天地洪同, 是謂至德 (Wang 2009: 37).

 For more on these terms in the pre-Han period, see Brindley 2013.  All translations are my own unless stated otherwise.

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There are quite a number of examples in the Zhuangzi 莊子 but here are three: The four seasons have their different qi but it is not bestowed to them by heaven, thus the year is fulfilled … The myriad things have their different ordering but Dao does not do so out of self-interest, thus it is nameless. Being nameless it acts without purpose, and by not acting purposely, there is nothing it does not do.

四時殊氣, 天不賜, 故歲成 ⋯⋯ 萬物殊理, 道不私, 故無名。無名故無為, 無為而 無不為 (Chapter 25 “zeyang 則陽”; Guo 1985: 909). Heaven covers things without self-interest; earth supports things without self-interest. How is it that heaven and earth make me poor out of self-interest?

天無私覆, 地無私載, 天地豈私貧我哉? (Chapter 6 “dazongshi 大宗師”; Guo 1985: 286). Confucius said: To take joy in things in one’s heart-mind is to care for them without selfinterest, and this is the condition of humaneness and righteousness. Laozi replied: Ah! Such words nearly revealed how inferior you are! In caring for things, is this not excessive? Being without self-interest, this is to be self-interested!

孔子曰: 中心物愷, 兼愛無私, 此仁義之情也。老聃曰:意!幾乎後言!夫兼愛, 不亦 迂乎!無私焉, 乃私也 (Chapter 13 “tiandao 天道”; Guo 1985: 479).

Finally, there is this passage from chapter 7 of the Daodejing 道德經: Heaven is long-enduring and so is earth. The reason why heaven and earth are able to endure is because they do not live for themselves, thus their life is long-enduring. This is why the sage puts his person behind himself yet it remains in front, puts his person outside himself yet it remains present. Is it not because he lacks self-interest? In this way, he can fulfill his self-interests.

天長地久。天地所以能長且久者, 以其不自生, 故能長生。是以聖人後其身, 而 身先, 外其身, 而身存。非以其無私邪。故能成其私 (Lou 2008: 19).

The first thing that comes to mind in reading the above passages is the ontological generosity of Dao. Dao enables the lives of the myriad things to arise, but the manner of said arising is without bias or classification; it is a constant act of nameless spontaneity. We are things comprised of qi 氣 and Yin 陰 and Yang 陽, however, these primal elements take Dao as their source, the implication of which is that the myriad things do nothing but borrow them. We can no more reconstitute their inner properties than we can rid ourselves of their presence; it becomes a matter of refining or dispersing, balancing or favoring. Unable to claim Dao as our own, we are in no position to do the same for our personhood. The reason the sage, according to Laozi, puts his self in the rear but still appears in front is twofold: the sage does not distinguish between his self and the selves of others but conjoins all selves into the non-self of Dao; second, the sage views time circularly which allows him to transcend designations of before and after, and space as a borderless continuum wherein being and non-being penetrate one another such that they become inseparable. This is how Yin selflessly gives way to Yang, and Yang reciprocates to Yin.4

 For a detailed study of how this unfolds in the Zhuangzi, see Chai 2019.

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The Liezi’s statement that stealing is both having and not having what is public or private is perhaps the most interesting of those cited above. In order to understand why Guo of Qi’s 齊之國氏 stealing is acceptable while Xiang of Song’s 宋之向氏 is not, we need to read what comes before the quoted passage. Guo of Qi says: I rob heaven and earth of their seasonal benefits, the clouds and rain of their irrigating floods, the mountains and marshes of their products in order to grow my crops, plant my seeds, raise my walls, and build my house. I steal birds and animals from the land, and fish and turtles from the water. All this is stealing. As for crops and seeds, clay and wood, birds and animals, fish and turtles, all are begotten by heaven; how is it they belong to me? And yet, I suffer no retribution for robbing heaven. On the other hand, precious things such as gold and jade, and commodities such as grain and silk, are collected by men; how can we claim it is heaven that provides them?

吾盜天地之時利, 雲雨之滂潤, 山澤之產育, 以生吾禾, 殖吾稼, 築吾垣, 建吾舍。 陸盜禽獸, 水盜魚鱉, 亡非盜也。夫禾稼、土木、禽獸、魚鱉, 皆天之所生, 豈吾之所有?然吾盜天而亡殃。夫金玉珍寶穀帛財貨, 人之所聚, 豈天之所與 (Yang 2007: 36-37).

Clearly Liezi is using the term “steal” atypically. Common sense tells us that what is of Nature is there for the pleasure of all beings, though modern humans have pushed our “pleasure” to the extreme. The truth, however, is quite different. Heaven nourishes earth, which in turn produces a bounty reaped by all who live in its midst. This bounty is equal in purpose and distribution and so lacks self-interest, however, it is not identical in kind. As the myriad things of the world, and the world itself, have specific needs to maintain their lives, the resources of heaven and earth must be such that the needs of one does not deprive those of the other. Just as we need the qi and Yin and Yang of Dao to secure our life, is it really stealing when these elements are essential to our being? Water is provided by heaven to nourish earth, and the multitude of things dependent on it; it is thus public in its availability. By making private what is inherently public, Xiang of Song is artificially disrupting the relationship between a thing and its sphere of existence. On the other hand, by not making private what is inherently public, we leave a thing in the public domain thereby creating an opportunity for others to covet it privately. Said differently, when something such as water appears in the world with the purpose of nourishing all that comes across it, to appropriate it for one’s own self-interest is to injure Dao by denying it access to its own creative potential. Regarding the Zhuangzi’s statement that heaven and earth do not deliberately make people poor, this is not to say that they are altruistic, for both are beholden to Dao. In spontaneously creating things, animate or otherwise, Dao ensures they are imbued with the traits and skills required to conduct their lives. That a thing should become impoverished during its lifetime is not because Dao has chosen to neglect or punish it—this is the argument of Confucius and Mencius—instead, a thing’s decline in health or fortune is due to its neglect of Dao resulting in the corruption of its own inborn nature. Both Zhuangzi and Ji Kang recognize that self-corruption not only impacts one’s well-being but, ultimately, the length of one’s life. To be refrained in speech and action hence handicaps one’s ability to live naturally insofar as the worry that comes about when one doubts oneself restricts one’s life-potential out of

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fear of being wrong. When self-questioning festers and hesitation lingers in one’s heart-mind, one no longer follows Dao but is guided by the artificial norms of human society. This, in turn, makes the desire to live for oneself even stronger, resulting in greater separation between one’s original inborn nature and that molded by the needs and views of others. Knowing such dangers await the unprepared, Ji Kang argues for a morality capable of transcending the divisiveness of right and wrong whereby the will no longer pursues what is external to one’s body, and the heart-mind desires nothing other than maintaining its oneness with Dao. Only then, Ji Kang says, can the common people emulate the arts of the sage and learn to grasp the essential nature of things.

2  Establishing the Need to be without Self-Interest Ji Kang’s Essay is not a particularly long piece. Written in the form of a monologue and divided into three argumentative clusters, it is an open attack on Confucian moral values and refers to a variety of historical figures from the Shang-Zhou epoch, as well as textual references to the Analects 論語, Daodejing, Xunzi 荀子, Lunheng 論衡, and so forth. The principle aim of the Essay is to establish a platform for moral openness whereby people are no longer guided by self-interest to do good or avoid bad, but sweep away said notions in order to restore their inborn nature to its Dao-given state of transparent luminosity. The Essay opens with a description of the gentleman (junzi 君子). Ji Kang’s gentleman, however, is not that envisioned by Confucius but “transcends the teaching of names and relies on naturalness 越名教而任自然.” In his own words, the junzi “is someone whose heart-mind does not employ5 right and wrong, and whose actions do not oppose Dao 心無措乎是非, 而行不違乎道者也” (Dai 2014: 402). Although the term wucuo 無措 appears in chapter 50 of the Daodejing and chapter 21 (tianzifang 田子方) of the Zhuangzi, its usage in those cases is not the same as Ji Kang’s. To find examples that match Ji Kang’s, we must turn to chapter 18 (nengtian 能天) of the Heguanzi 鶡冠子6 or chapter 7 (weiming 微明) of the Wenzi 文子.7 As for the phrase shifei 是非, the Zhuangzi is replete with examples,8 and there are

5  Robert Henricks uses two different translations of cuo 措: in his Ph.D. Dissertation (1976: 323) it is “dwell on” while in his later translation (1983: 107) it is “concern.” Both are too passive in meaning; cuo means “to arrange, manage, or place,” which is why I have translated it as “employ.” 6  “It is due to motion and quietude that life comes together, and that heaven and earth can take their natural form; this cannot be altered 因動靜而結生, 能天地而舉措自然形也, 不可改也.” Huang 2004: 375–376. 7  “Knowing human nature, one can develop oneself without oppostion; knowing how to manage affairs, one can conduct them out without confusion 知人之性則自養不悖, 知事之制則其舉措 不亂.” Wang 2009: 315–316. 8  See chapters 2, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19, 22, 23, 27, 29, 31, and 33.

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multiple occurrences in the Liezi 列子 too.9 One whose movement is not opposed to Dao is a person who sees the concepts of right and wrong as obstacles to conjoining with Dao insofar as both are absolutist notions lacking partiality. The only way to overcome their dividedness is to merge them into a complimentary dyad. Right cannot exist without wrong, just as wrong cannot exist without right; in the words of Zhuangzi, only the clarity (ming 明) of Dao can remove the shadow of confusion surrounding the relativity of these terms. What is also apparent from this opening line of the Essay is that Ji Kang’s critique will not be knowledge-based, but centered upon our metaphysical experience of Dao. To use words as ammunition in his attack on Confucius will not cast the junzi in a new, more ethically open light; rather, Ji Kang focusses on the inexpressible factors that influence his words and actions. We are told as much in the sentence immediately following the opening line of the Essay: “For one whose qi is tranquil and spirit empty, neither arrogance nor self-praise will exist in his heart-mind 夫氣 靜神虛者, 心不存於矜尚” (Dai 2014: 402). Tranquil qi and an empty spirit are not the characteristics of a Confucian sage but those belonging to the ultimate person (zhiren 至人) of Daoism. Indeed, Ji Kang will mention said person a few lines later, but for the time being, he is quite content to employ the term junzi. Qi 氣 (breath, vitality) and spirit (shen 神) exist in a relationship of mutual-nourishment: when the former is dense and healthy, so too is the latter; when the former is dispersed and weak, so too is the latter. The sage thus cultivates his qi in order to preserve his spirit, for should he neglect one, the other will cease shortly thereafter. Not only this, but when the heart-mind (xin 心) is occupied by unnecessary thoughts and schemes, its neglect of qi and spirit grows with each passing day. To concentrate on the needs of the heart-mind is to neglect those of the body, and when one overlooks the essentials of good health and longevity of life,10 suffering a premature death becomes an uncomfortably close reality. Such is why Ji Kang describes the sage as having a heart-mind that does not contain arrogance (jin 矜) or self-praise (shang 尚). Indeed, this is the central thesis of the Essay. By avoiding the ornamental lifestyle of the nobility and Ru 儒 class, together with their wisdom-based ethics, the authentic person of Daoism sets their heart-mind on the penetrating and far-­reaching nature of Dao. Arrogance and self-praise not only impede one’s pursuit of Dao, they are one of the first aspects to be eliminated from the sage’s worldview. The heart-­ mind must thus emulate the conditions of qi (i.e., tranquility) and spirit (i.e., emptiness) if it is to transcend the teachings of names and follow naturalness. Only in such a state will “one whose body is bright and heart-mind profound have feelings not attached to all that is desired 體亮心逹者, 情不繫於所欲” (Dai 2014: 402). Having discussed the primary characteristics required to be without self-interest, Ji Kang tells us about those of a secondary level: “As arrogance and self-praise do not exist in his heart-mind, he can thus transcend the teaching of names and rely on what is natural; with feelings not attached to all that is desired, he can thus examine

 See chapters 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, and 8.  For more on Ji Kang’s philosophy of self-cultivation, see Chai 2017a.

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the precious and worthless, and penetrate the true state of things 矜尚不存乎心, 故 能越名教而任自然; 情不繫於所欲, 故能審貴賤而通物情” (Dai 2014: 402). Grounding himself in empty tranquility, Ji Kang’s gentleman makes Dao his place of abode. Embodying its mindlessness, there is not only no need for notions pertaining to selfhood, but said notions vanish in the process of becoming selfless. Pride and flattery become the tools of those without Dao, while names and titles become the weapons of those unable to escape self-interest. This is what is meant by naturalness (ziran 自然), a praxis whereby the moral and epistemological norms of humanity fall by the wayside, replaced by the cyclical patterns and elemental changes of the non-human world. Such being the case, the gentleman qua sage clings to no particular feeling and longs for no particular desire, thus he is said to be without emotion. Clear-sighted and empty-minded, he can penetrate the true state of things by examining (shen 審) what the world takes to be precious (gui 貴) and worthless (jian 賤). To be precious is to be great, and there is nothing greater than Dao; the treasured is esteemed by things the world over, and nothing can surpass Dao in this regard. However, the precious does not view itself as great or esteem-worthy and so it is also low and humble. Being low, it persists unnoticed; due to its humbleness, it is accessible to all. Only still, quiet emptiness can embody such potentiality, hence they originate with Dao. In light of the fact that Dao penetrates all things in the world, the person who follows it will come to penetrate said things too. The thoroughfare of possibility and transformation, Dao opposes nothing for it envelops and enfolds all things. Letting things be as they are and create their own path in life, Dao selflessly accompanies things without interference. Thus, in mirroring the genuine way of Dao, the sage transcends human artificiality, abandoning right and wrong in the process. Having established the reasons for critiquing Confucianism, Ji Kang’s first concluding observation in the Essay is this: The state of things obeys that which penetrates it, hence the great Dao is not opposed; to transcend names is to rely on the heart-mind, hence right and wrong are not employed.

物情順通, 故大道無違; 越名任心, 故是非無措也 (Dai 2014: 402).

Had Ji Kang argued that to be without self-interest merely requires one refrain from distinguishing right and wrong, potential opponents would have easily disproved him, hence he qualifies his stance with the following explanation: To speak of the gentleman, not employing things is his priority while penetrating things is his goodness. To speak of the petty person, concealing his feelings is his error while opposing Dao is his flaw. Why? Concealing his feelings, arrogance, and stinginess, these are the greatest wrongdoings of the petty person; having a heart-mind that is empty and does not employ things, this is the genuine action of the gentleman. This is why the [book of] Great Dao says: “If I am without a body, what will I have to fear?” [and] “To not take life as precious, this is better than treasuring life.”11

11  These passages are, respectively, from chapters 13 and 75 of the Daodejing. See Lou 1999: 29; 184.

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是故言君子, 則以無措爲主, 以通物爲美。言小人, 則以匿情爲非, 以違道爲闕。 何者? 匿情矜吝, 小人之至惡; 虛心無措, 君子之篤行也。是以大道言及吾無身, 吾又何患。無以生爲貴者, 是賢於貴生也 (Dai 2014: 402).

Whereas the gentleman qua sage adheres to the natural principle of things and so stands alongside Dao, the petty person takes shelter in his emotions and ends up opposing Dao. When emotions take hold of the heart-mind and serve as one’s guide in life, how is encountering misfortune not inevitable? To be without emotions, having a heart-mind that is quiescent and silent, how is conjoining with Dao not inevitable? When the heart-mind is empty, said emptiness becomes the cloak enveloping the sage’s personhood; when the opposite is true, emptiness becomes the worst fear of the petty person. Pride and stinginess are thus the perils of the selfish individual insofar as they prevent Dao from taking hold of said person’s spirit, uplifting them to the level of all-inclusiveness and ontological generosity. Emptiness is akin to sincerity because emptiness can be nothing other than its true self, whereas fullness demands a prior emptiness to reach a state of completion. In this way, the sage accompanies Dao in emptily penetrating things—that is, their engagement with the myriad things of the world does not alter their inborn nature—and nothing surpasses the beauty of such invisible touching. To further emphasize this fact, Ji Kang quoted the above two chapters from the Daodejing; however, even doing this might not be enough to dislodge the doctrines of Confucianism from people’s minds. Given this, Ji Kang restates his conclusion, only now he refers to persons from antiquity: To speak on account of this, when the ultimate person uses his heart-mind, there is absolutely no trace of his employing things. Hence Yi Yin did not employ his worth [when serving] Tang of Yin,12 and so the whole world benefitted and revealed his name. Dan of Zhou did not tend to his worthiness and hiding his actions, assumed the role of regent, and all was transformed and prospered. Yi Wu did not conceal his feelings from Huan of Qi, and although the state was hegemonic, its ruler was revered.13 How can we say, regarding the use of their heart-mind, that these individuals acted for themselves and were attached to self-interest? Thus, the Guanzi says: “The gentleman who acts according to Dao forgets his personhood.” These words are true indeed!

由斯而言: 夫至人之用心, 固不存有措矣。是故伊尹不借賢於殷湯, 故世濟而名 顯; 周旦不顧賢而隱行, 故假攝而化隆; 夷吾不匿情於齊桓, 故國霸而主尊。其用 心, 豈爲身而繫乎私哉? 故管子曰:君子行道, 忘其爲身。斯言是矣 (Dai 2014: 402-403).

The point being made here is that China’s beginning would have been disastrous if not for the lack of self-interest of those assisting the ruler to lead the people down a path of openness. That Ji Kang cites the Guanzi 管子,14 as opposed to the Zhuangzi, does not weaken his case; rather, it strengthens it by demonstrating that even  Yi Yin 伊尹 was a minister in the court of Tang 湯, who founded the Shang (Yin 殷) dynasty.  Duke Huan of Qi 齊桓公 (716–643 BCE) ascended the throne with help of his minister Yi Wu 夷吾 (Guan Zhong 管仲). For more, see chapter 62 “Biographies of Guan and Yan 管晏列传” of the Shiji 史記. 14  The passage cited by Ji Kang does not appear in the Guanzi as it exists today. 12 13

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non-­Daoist thinkers recognized the merits of cosmological collectivism. Of course, the argument could be made that the Guanzi’s Dao differs from that of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and indeed it does, but the premise behind the quoted line is common to them all: conjoining with Dao necessitates releasement of self and when one is selfless, self-interest becomes redundant. With this, we conclude the first section of the Essay.

3  Lacking Self-Interest and Pursuing the Good The second section of Ji Kang’s Essay opens with the following premise: when the gentleman forgets his personhood, and lacks self-interest as a result, his affairs accord with what is good. Here are the reasons why: Since the gentleman’s actions are worthy, he does not first examine their measure [of benefit] and then act. Relying on his heart-mind without exhausting it, he does not first discuss its goodness and then decide what is correct. Making clear his feelings without employing them, he does not first discuss their rightness and then act.

君子之行賢也, 不察於有度而後行也。任心無邪, 不議於善而後正也。顯情無措, 不論於是而後爲也 (Dai 2014: 403).

In being a sage, Ji Kang’s gentleman does nothing that is unworthy of his namesake. To act for the sake of worthiness is to be selfish and disconnected from the holistic reality of Dao. As he has harmonized with the world, the sage does not examine his words before speaking, does not consider the benefit of his affairs before acting; rather, he lets his heart-mind wander with Dao and so never exhausts it. In other words, the sage refrains from using his heart-mind to pursue what lies outside himself, and refrains from using it to plunge the depths of knowledge in search of answers to questions that are unanswerable. Instead, he accepts things as they are, as possessing a nature that is true and proper to them alone. Such being the case, the sage’s emotional constitution lacks concern for the views of others and because of this, the benefit his words bring to the world are directly tied to and follow from his deeds. Such is why Ji Kang goes on to say: Thus, he proudly forgets the worthy, and worthiness and its measure coincide. He indifferently relies on his heart-mind, and his heart-mind and the good meet. Baffled, he employs nothing, and his affairs and the right come together.15

是故傲然忘賢, 而賢與度會; 忽然任心, 而心與善遇; 儻然無措, 而事與是俱也 (Dai 2014: 403).

 The phrase tangran 儻然 is from chapter 14 (tianyun 天運) of the Zhuangzi: “You looked for it but could not see it, pursued it but could not reach it. Baffled, you stood in the apex of the four directions, leaned against a withered dryandra tree and sang 望之而不能見也, 逐之而不能及也, 儻然立於四虛之道, 倚於槁梧而吟.” Guo 1985: 504.

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This is the first time Ji Kang associates dispelling self-interest with good fortune.16 What does it mean to be worthy (xian 賢)? Obviously, it is not the moral worth spoken of in Confucianism, nor is it the worthiness of one’s post spoken of in Legalism; rather, genuine goodness is to have an affinity with the myriad things of the world by way of returning to Dao. The good is placid, empty, and silent; it is qi and Yin and Yang, the sustenance of life and enabler of death; it is darkly mysterious, a canyon to the world’s valley; the good, in other words, is everything humanity takes for granted and is why it can be obtained only after it has been forgotten. It is as Zhuangzi says in chapter 5 (dechongfu 德充符): “When men do not forget the things they ought to forget, and forget the things they should not forget, this is a case of forgetting that which is real 人不忘其所忘, 而忘其所不忘, 此謂誠忘.”17 To forget oneself is to forget being concerned with self-interest, and when one lacks self-interest, one lives in alignment with the good. Having established the grounds for his second premise, Ji Kang promptly offers an elaboration in the form of three justifications. Before we turn to these, however, there are four points we need to discuss. First and foremost is Ji Kang’s argument that “in discussing openness and self-interest, although one’s will is set on Dao, and it preserves the good, acting without wickedness and evil, though nothing in their breast is concealed, this cannot be said to be lacking self-interest 故論公私者, 雖云 志道存善, ●無凶邪, 無所懷而不匿者, 不可謂無私” (Dai 2014: 403).18 This point, and the three that follow, argue for openness (gong 公) above all else. Any inkling of selfishness (si 私) is seen by Ji Kang as an obstacle to harmonizing with Dao, even though one is not engaged in acts of impropriety. In other words, the seed of selfishness is already planted in the heart-mind of one who, despite being keen on the arts of Dao, is unwilling to share with others what they conceal (ni 匿) within. If not sharing the cherishment of the heart-mind is considered bad, Ji Kang’s second point speaks to the inverse: “Although one wishes to boast of their goodness, and their feelings oppose Dao, if there is nothing they embrace that is not made clear, this cannot be called lacking openness 雖欲之伐善, 情之違道, 無所抱而不顯者, 不可 謂不公” (Dai 2014: 403). Whereas in the first case we could not definitively declare someone to be without self-interest, here we cannot definitively say they have selfinterest. Though their heart-mind is colored by feelings that distance them from Dao, and because they openly share said feelings with others, such an individual does not qualify as selfish. The third point—“now to hold to the principle that one must be open and restrain feelings that are not, this means that although one acts out of goodness they are still not separated from self-interest 今執必公之理, 以繩不公之情, 使 夫雖爲善者, 不離於有私” (Dai 2014: 403)—as well as the fourth—“although one wishes to boast of their goodness, they might not be beguiled by self-interest. If one

 For a different take on the relationship between good fortune and harmonizing one’s inner and outer realms, see Ruan Kan’s 阮侃 “Residences Lack Good or Bad Fortune: One must Preserve Life 宅無吉凶攝生論” along with Ji Kang’s refutation and own explication, in Ji Kang’s collected works. 17  Guo 1985: 216–217. 18  The character before 無凶 is corrupted. 16

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values their name and treasures their heart-mind, then they must make clear their feel。重其名而貴其心, 則是非之 ings of right and wrong 雖欲之伐善, 情, 不得不顯矣” (Dai 2014: 403)—are but variations on the first two points. Based upon the aforementioned, Ji Kang surmises: When right and wrong must be made clear, one who is good will not conceal his feelings that are not, and one who is wrong will not add to it the greater wrong of not being open. If one lacks the first wrong, the good will be obtained; if one lacks the greater wrong, he will have nothing but his wrongness, which he can then correct. Not only is this the way to be completely good, it motivates others to be good too.

是非必顯, 有善者無匿情之不是, 有非者不加不公之大非。無不是則善莫不得, 無大非則莫過其非, 乃所以救其非也。非徒盡善, 亦所以厲不善也 (Dai 2014: 403).

Moral openness of the kind described above is not about pursuing an absolute good over and above an absolute bad. Indeed, Ji Kang more often than not contrasts the good (shan 善) and not-good (bushan 不善), while the bad (e 惡) is contrasted with the lesser meaning of mei 美 (beautiful), i.e., to be good or pleasing.19 Semantics aside, Ji Kang’s interest in the good and bad is framed by a need to restore people’s inborn nature to their equidistant state and avoid being trapped at its outer fringes. In this way, moral openness unlocks the door to good fortune, be it in terms of health, feelings, longevity, and so forth, while privation opens the door to misfortune. The purpose of achieving goodness, however, is not simply to be good, for that does not exclude the possibility of faults remaining; rather, Ji Kang is arguing that one has to recognize one’s faults as faults, and the act of doing so leads to goodness. Our faults, moreover, are not external to our being but are constitutive of it; in other words, all things have their inherent faults, which are neither good nor bad in their own right, but are seen externally as differing from the norm and in need of correction. Ji Kang is simply making the case that differences are just that; when left to their own devices, differences are no longer seen as different but part of the inborn nature

19  In book 39 (yaoyue 堯曰) of the Analects, Confucius lists five goods (wu mei 五美): to be generous without paying a price 惠而不費; work hard without complaint 勞而不怨; be modest with one’s desires 欲而不貪; be great without arrogance 泰而不驕; and, be powerful but not fiercely so 威而不猛. Confucius also mentions four evils (si e 四惡): killing without first reforming不教而 殺; expect success without first warning 不戒視成; impose a time limit yet delay in giving orders 慢令致期; and, be stingy in giving to others when called upon to do so 猶之與人也, 出納之吝. See Cheng 1997: 1370–1373. Confucius was not the only one to create such a list however; chapter 31 (yufu 漁父) of the Zhuangzi has eight flaws (ba ci 八疵): make the affairs of others one’s own 非其事而事之; move forward without permission 莫之顧而進之; strive after another’s views yet stretch-out his words 希意道言; speak without regard for right and wrong 不擇是非而言; enjoy speaking about other’s failings 好言人之惡; damage friendships and split-apart families 析交離 親; feign praise in order to viciously defeat others 稱譽詐偽以敗惡人; and, to look in two directions without regarding right and wrong in order to catch sight of other’s desires 不擇善否, 兩容 頰適, 偷拔其所欲. Zhuangzi also speaks of four harms (si huan 四患): enjoy undertaking great affairs but changing long-standing practices simply to enhance one’s merit and fame 好經大事, 變 更易常, 以挂功名; claiming to know everything and things must be done your way, yet you snatch from others and make it your own 專知擅事, 侵人自用; see one’s errors yet do not change, and listen to the advice of others yet do things even worse 見過不更, 聞諫愈甚; and, when others agree with you they are approved of, but when they disgree with you they are disapproved of no matter how good they are 人同於己則可, 不同於己, 雖善不善, 謂之矜. See Guo 1985: 1029.

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of the individual.20 Such being the case, to accept a fault on its own terms is to transform it into something naturally beneficial (i.e., good). Ji Kang offers three justifications for this claim, the first of which is: As the good is wholly good, and the wrong can be corrected, how much more so will this be the case when right and wrong are at their extreme?

夫善以盡善, 非以救非, 而況乎以是非之至者 (Dai 2014: 403).

The second reads: Thus, good and bad are the extreme of things. If one is located between these two, then whatever one does, openness will result in success and self-interest in failure. Since both use the same vessel, some will succeed and others will fail. As for openness and self-­ interest, they pave the way to success and failure and are the gates to auspicious and ominous fortune.

故善之與不善, 物之至者也。若處二物之間, 所徃者, 必以公成而私敗。同用一 器, 而有成有敗。夫公私者, 成敗之途, 而吉凶之門乎 (Dai 2014: 403).

The third justification is: Thus, things at the extreme which do not change are few,21 while those that are not and use what is at hand, are many. It is like the embodied nature of the average person;22 their fortune depends on how this nature is used. If their heart-mind dwells upon the upright and outspoken figures of antiquity, and if they intend to walk the path of openness, directly speaking what is in their heart-mind, then all of their words will be right. If they act as their feelings are touched, then all their affairs will be auspicious.

故物至而不移者寡, 不至而在用者衆。若質乎中人之體, 運乎在用之質, 而栖心 古烈, 擬足公塗, 值心而言, 則言無不是; 觸情而行, 則事無不吉 (Dai 2014: 403).

The above rationalizations are working towards a point Ji Kang will make shortly; his present goal, however, is to demonstrate that the average person can just as easily be without self-interest as the gentleman, and that doing so will benefit their lives in a similar manner too. All that is required are the few simple steps outlined above. Walking the path of openness can be seen as walking two paths (liangxing 兩行), to

20  Ji Kang, in a later section of the Essay, makes this precise point: “To be overly concerned with goodness, this is the cause of trouble. When one is aware of trouble, it is no longer troublesome 措 善之情, 其所病也。唯病病, 是以不病.” The term “bingbing 病病” is from chapter 71 of the Daodejing: “To know yet claim not to know is supreme; not to know yet claim to know will result in trouble. When one is aware of trouble, it is no longer troublesome. Thus, the sage is without trouble, for in being aware of it, no trouble finds him 知不知上; 不知知病。夫唯病病, 是以不 病。聖人不病, 以其病病, 是以不病.” Lou 1999: 178. 21  This is a reference to book 34 (yang huo 陽貨) of the Analects: “The Master said: Men are by nature close to one another, it in their actions that they become far apart 子曰:性相近也, 習相遠 也.” Cheng 1997: 1177. 22  The “average person” (zhongren 中人) is mentioned by Confucius in book 11 (yong ye 雍也) of the Analects: “The Master said: For the average person and above, the highest subjects may be discussed; for those below the average person, the highest subjects may not be discussed 子曰:中 人以上, 可以語上也; 中人以下, 不可以語上也.” Cheng 1997: 1177.

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quote the Zhuangzi23; it could also be read as a precursor to the more advanced openness that is wuwei 無為 (non-deliberate action). As for why the average person should coach their heart-mind to dwell upon the words and actions of the morally strong persons of antiquity, as opposed to freely following their natural inclinations, is unclear. It would appear Ji Kang is yet again showing the inescapable hold Confucianism had over the intelligentsia of his day and that the virtuous and unscrupulous persons of the Shang-Zhou epoch remain embedded in the psyche of all who wish to improve the moral standing of the world in which they live. However, Ji Kang is referring to such individuals not out of flattery, but to demonstrate that being without self-interest is an idea that stretches back to the very beginning of Chinese civilization, yet has become muddied or altogether forgotten with the passage of time. This message, which Ji Kang offers in the form of a preliminary conclusion to this section of the Essay, reads thusly: As a result, what others employ is not what he [the junzi] employs; what others desire out of self-interest is not what he sees as self-interest. His words are not calculated according to success and failure yet he encounters the good; his actions are not guided according to right and wrong yet his fortune is auspicious. How is this not due to the standards of successful openness and failed self-interest? Such being the case, what need is there to employ anything else?

於是乎向之所措者, 乃非所措也; 欲之所私者, 乃非所私也。言不計乎得失而遇 善, 行不準乎是非而遇吉, 豈非公成私敗之數乎? 夫如是也, 又何措之有哉 (Dai 2014: 403).

Since the meaning of this passage is self-evident, Ji Kang proceeds to provide historical evidence for, and further elaboration of,24 this preliminary conclusion before arriving at his final summation for this section of the text: Thus, what is actually right appears temporarily wrong and is only made clear later; what is actually wrong appears temporarily right and is only made clear later. If openness and self-­ interest are mutually made evident, then to act out of self-interest will prove hopeless, yet the person who is good and bright will be free of such burden. To act out of self-interest and have no hope, one cannot but consider changing their faults. If one stands in openness and has nothing to fear, their actions will have no doubts. This is the way of great order. Thus, the head concubine spilled the [poisoned] wine and was shamed for her crime;25 Wang Ling made objections at court but Chen Ping obeyed the royal edict.26 When looked at in this way, are these not cases where something appeared wrong but was later shown not to be the case?

 Zhuangzi chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) writes: “It is because the sage harmonizes right and wrong, resting in the heavenly measure of things, that this is called walking two paths 是以聖人和之以是 非, 而休乎天鈞, 是之謂兩行.” Guo 1985: 70. 24  I have skipped this section of the text due to limitations of space. 25  This refers to a story in the Zhanguo Ce 戰國策 where a cheating wife attempted to poison her husband but was stopped by his concubine. 26  Wang Ling 王陵 and Chen Ping 陳平 served in the court of Empress Dowager Lü 呂太后 (r. 187–179 BCE). See chapters 9 and 56 of the Shiji 史記 for more. 23

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故實是以暫非而後顯, 實非以暫是而後明。公私交顯, 則行私者無所冀, 而淑亮 者無所負矣。行私者無所冀, 則思改其非; 立公者無所忌, 則行之無疑, 此大治之 道也。故主妾覆醴, 以罪受戮; 王陵庭爭, 而陳平順旨。於是觀之, 非似非而非非 者乎 (Dai 2014: 404).

Recall that Ji Kang began this section of the Essay with the claim that by forgetting the self, the words and actions of the gentleman qua sage are open and attuned with the good (i.e., Dao). Having seen the reasoning behind this claim, we can understand why Ji Kang would arrive at the conclusion he does. What is surprising about his remarks is the turn to a form of relativism commonly seen in pre-Qin Daoism.27 Regardless of the period, Daoism sees right and wrong as having their own ­perspective, however, it this is not inherent to the words themselves but depends upon the stance of the subject using them. What is right is never truly right and what is wrong is never truly wrong; right and wrong are but temporary inferences derived from the plenum of constant incompleteness that is the world of the sage. In being incomplete, the world completes itself; in its self-completion, it becomes empty. To be empty is to forget, and to forget is to stand in the pivot of Dao. Thus, when Ji Kang speaks of a great order (da zhi 大治), a phrase derived from the Zhuangzi,28 the mode of such ordering is the abolishment of any distinction between right and wrong, leaving behind only that which is natural. To blame someone for doing wrong, such as the concubine or Wang Ling in the passage quoted above, who were simply trying to do good, is to wield selfishness as a weapon. By limiting morality to a spectrum of right and wrong, the negative repercussions for the world become inescapable. As we shall see, Ji Kang makes it very clear that self-interestedness bears upon one’s spirit, body, heart-mind, and feelings. To neglect the effects closed-mindedness has on these aspects of life is to surely bring about misfortune, if not outright disaster.29 Indeed, the next section of the Essay is devoted to explicating the importance of spirit when it comes to being without self-interest, and why this hidden aspect of morality is more important to one’s endeavor than anything one’s words or actions can convey.

 Chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論) of the Zhuangzi writes: “Even this is a way of that and that is a way of this. However, that has its right and wrong, and this has its right and wrong. Is there, in fact, a distinction between that and this, or is there no distinguishing between them? Where that and this cease to be in opposition, one takes Dao as the pivot 是亦彼也, 彼亦是也。彼亦一是非, 此亦一 是非。果且有彼是乎哉? 果且無彼是乎哉? 彼是莫得其偶, 謂之道樞.” Guo 1985: 66. 28  See chapter 11 (zaiyou 在宥): “Abandon the sage and reject knowledge, and the world will have great order 絕聖棄知而天下大治.” Guo 1985: 377. 29  Ji Kang also speaks about the need to pay attention to hidden symptoms of bad fortune in his essay “On Nourishing Life” (Yangsheng lun 養生論). For more, see Chai 2017a. 27

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4  D  ispelling Self-Interest to be Pure in Body and Upright in Spirit In this section of the Essay, Ji Kang lays forth his core message: Self-interest is dispelled when the will stops treasuring things and the heart-mind lacks desire. In order to reach such a state, one must first grasp the nature of Dao and act in accordance with its naturalism. To comprehend the nature of Dao and follow its course is, Ji Kang argues, the reason why the gentleman is revered by everyone in the court and on its outer steps (hetang yingjie 闔堂盈階)—i.e., officials of all manner of rank—proclaiming him to be a good person (shanren 善人). However, if an individual decides to refrain from openly expressing their feelings, choosing to do so in the sanctity of privacy, they will be accused of acting out of self-interest and be perceived quite differently from the gentleman (bufu tonger 不復同耳). Ji Kang describes the reasons for this disparity thusly: To embrace [the will] and not change while hiding one’s feelings, this is to truly lose one’s spirit to all that is confusing, to drown one’s body in the fixity of names, to control one’s heart-mind by all that is fearful, and to attach one’s feelings to all that is desired.

抱●而匿情不改者, 誠神以喪於所惑, 而體以溺於常名, 心以制於所慴, 而情有繫 於所欲 (Dai 2014: 404-405).30

We have, in the above, both a warning and an encouragement. One who cherishes the will cannot be open with their feelings, hence they hide them; conversely, one who is no longer susceptible to the whims of the will openly embraces the collectivity of the things of the world. From this, should we stubbornly hold to the artificial authority ascribed to the will, our spirit will be expelled to the external world of ideologies and sentimentalities. The sage, however, knows that Dao makes emptiness its abode; in still quietude, he protects his spirit by not subjecting it to the vicissitudes and vacillations of the heart-mind. If anything, it is the spirit that guides us through life, informs our knowledge of the world, and allows us to remain without self-interest. Subservience to the will not only effects the spirit but the body too. The will drowns the body in names, names whose fixity prevents the body from being carried by the winds of Dao. With a spirit tied down by the will, and a body suffocated by an over-abundance and application of concepts (i.e., names), the heart-mind cannot but be controlled by the things it fears, and when the heart-mind fears anything other than being separated from Dao, our feelings take comfort in the object of our desire. Ji Kang sarcastically describes such people as “thinking themselves to be right with none more worthy than they 咸自以爲有是而莫賢乎已” (Dai 2014: 405). Not knowing the downtrodden state of their spirit, body, and heart-mind, they allow self-interest to consume and corrupt their inborn nature, forcing their gaze outwards instead of inwards towards their Dao-self: “Having yet to know the cruelty of an attack on the flesh, or a disaster that terrifies the heart-mind, they cannot gather

30

 The character after 抱 is corrupted.

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their feelings and reflect on them, nor reject names and rely on reality 未有攻肌之 慘, 駭心之禍, 遂莫能收情以自反, 棄名以任實” (Dai 2014: 405).31 Ji Kang’s ethics of openness is taking a unique turn here; not bound by abstract norms, he is trying to awaken in his reader the desperate need for something that transcends an ethics attached to and limited by words: spirit. To directly encounter the weakness of the flesh and fragility of the heart-mind is to acknowledge their dependency on something altogether greater: spirit. Not to belabor the point but spirit and its ability to naturally harmonize with Nature is one of the central themes of Ji Kang’s philosophy. His ethics is not limited to humans alone but applies to all living things; however, since most of us would be loath to follow a non-human species, the gentleman qua sage serves as our paradigmatic model. Once we realize how fallible we truly are, how susceptible we are to moral and epistemological deception, our questioning of reality can turn away from the shadowy domain of names and adopt the clarity of Dao to perceive things on their own wordless terms. Ji Kang’s justification for the above requires close to a dozen lines of text, which are as follows: Their heart-mind has its right but it is concealed out of self-interest; their will has its good but employing it makes it bad. They do not employ what should be employed and employ what should not be employed. They do not search for the principle of what should not be employed but search for the way to use what they employ. Thus, in knowing what they employ they are kept in the dark by such employment, taking what they do not employ as crude and what they employ as skillful. Their only fear is that the hidden is not profound; their only worry is that the concealed is not secret. Thus, with an arrogant, uncongenial appearance, they look down on the common people and with overbearing, ornamental speech, they crave vulgar fame. Of all the good practices to date, they say, none are greater than this; though they over-use their heart-mind to the end of their days, they fail to catch sight of what lies beyond. Thus, they might be able to perfect their selfish selves but they will lose their naturally-given nature. That their feelings are hidden and concealed, they certainly exist in their heart-mind; what is more, machinations of falsity and negligence shape their affairs. In this way, when their discussion of right and wrong are made clear, the reality of reward and punishment also becomes true. Not knowing that one can brave the shade without a shadow, they fear their shadow is not hidden; not knowing one cannot employ things without harm, they fear their employment is not skillful enough. How sad!

乃心有是焉, 匿之以私; 志有善焉, 措之爲惡。不措所措, 而措所不措。不求所以 不措之理, 而求所以爲措之道。故明爲措, 而闇於措, 是以不措爲拙, 措爲工。唯 懼隱之不微, 唯患匿之不宻。故有矜忤之容, 以觀常人; 矯飾之言, 以要俗譽。謂 永年良規, 莫盛於兹; 終日馳思, 莫闚其外, 故能成其私之體, 而喪其自然之質也。 於是隱匿之情, 必存乎心; 偽怠之機, 必形乎事。若是, 則是非之議既明, 賞罰之實 又篤。不知冒廕之可以無景, 而患景之不匿; 不知無措之可以無患, 而患措之不 巧, 豈不哀哉 (Dai 2014: 405).

Four things can be said about this passage. The first concerns the notion that the people discussed above “do not employ what should be employed and employ what should not be employed. They do not search for the principle of what should not be employed but search for the way to use what they employ.” The first half of this sentence appears to be modelled after the famous line from chapter 5 of the Zhuangzi  Shocking the mind is something Zhuangzi spoke of in his story about the Yellow Emperor playing his zither. For more, see Chai 2017b.

31

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we cited earlier.32 The principle spoken of in the second half is not directly found in pre-Qin texts, but a case can be made that chapter 17 (qiushui 秋水) of the Zhuangzi played a role.33 As is normal for Ji Kang, he spends more time criticizing people whose views and lifestyle are contrary to Daoism than speaking about those who subscribe to it. Since self-interested people are more concerned about how their words and actions are perceived by others than with letting them take their own path, their self-concern becomes misguided over time as they reach for ever greater justifications to hold onto their lack of moral openness. No longer keen on embracing the arts of Dao, its principle of disinterestedness (i.e., naturalness) is supplanted with one devised to further separate people from their feelings and natural inclinations so as to reinforce an artificial social order. It is to this human-made order that Ji Kang’s second point is directed: “Thus, with an arrogant, uncongenial appearance, they look down on the common people and with overbearing, ornamental speech, they crave vulgar fame.” Confucius and his followers are the target of this remark, for only they deny the common people a chance to voice their views and wishes. With their socio-political privileges and entitlements, Ji Kang sees the Confucians as working to uphold their world-order at the expense of everyone else’s. Moral openness is frowned upon and spiritual wandering is virtually non-existent. Such is why, and this is Ji Kang’s third point, “they might be able to perfect their selfish selves but they will lose their naturally-given nature.” In terms of what this naturally-given nature entails, chapter 15 (liuyi 刻意) of the Zhuangzi sheds some light: “As for tranquility, indifference, silence, quietude, emptiness, and non-doing, these are the level of heaven and earth and the nature of Dao and its virtue夫恬惔寂寞, 虛無無為, 此天地之平而道德之質也.”34 The level (ping 平) of heaven and earth is the oneness that harmonizes the myriad things of the world. In order to do so without self-interest, said thread cannot have any discernably attainable traits; rather, its characteristics are attainable only after one learns to let go of morality so as to become moral in the meontological sense, that is, to discover the non-moralistic morality of Dao’s creative negativity. A perfect illustration of this is Ji Kang’s fourth point: “Not knowing that one can brave the shade without a shadow, they fear their shadow is not hidden.”35 Ji Kang’s shadow reference is not accidental and is an accurate description of those who are unwilling to abandon their moral selves for the selfless holism of Nature. Indeed, he goes into great detail about the openly harmonic reality of the world in his writings

 See note 17 above.  Specifically, this line: “One who knows Dao will have grasped the natural ordering of things, and one who grasps the natural order of things will understand its power. In being clear about this power, one can no longer be harmed by things 知道者必達於理, 達於理者必明於權, 明於權者 不以物害己.” Guo 1985: 588. 34  See Guo 1985: 538. Robert Henricks translates zhi as substance but this is too essentialist for my liking. 35  The Zhuangzi discusses shadows in chapters 27 (yuyan 寓言) and 31 (yufu 漁父). See Guo 1985: 959–960 and 1031, respectively. Whereas the Zhuangzi uses shadows to illustrate the mutual dependency of things onto-cosmologically, Ji Kang’s application is strictly moral. 32 33

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on music.36 The shadow, being an emptiness diminished of light, is not an inhospitable void that devours everything encountering it; on the contrary, it is a reflection of our genuine selfhood, a selfness that is selfless and in being such, welcomes all other selves to the fold. The shadow is spirit set free; it is an expression of dispelling self-interest taken to its ultimacy. When seen thusly, we are no longer fearful of revealing our shadow, no longer hesitant to release our shadow to the awaiting shade. Standing in a shadow, we are shaded by its darkness and so must relinquish the glare of our self-generated appearance and words, our craving for power and fame. Thus, to abandon perfecting one’s selfish self, one will thereby preserve their naturally-given nature; to embrace the shadow’s dark veil, one can catch sight of what lies beyond the border of the over-used heart-mind. With this, Ji Kang presents his penultimate final conclusion: As the gentleman already has this naturally-given nature, he looks once more at these examples.37 What he treasures are profound and bright, and as these are rare, he preserves them. What he rejects are arrogance and stinginess, and as these are bad, he keeps them at a distant. If he employs things that are wrong, he will be inwardly ashamed; if he hides things that are worthless, he will be outwardly humiliated. Such is why his words do not warily conceal, and his actions do not warily hide. He does not warily favor something because he likes it; he does not warily oppose something because he dislikes it. His heart-mind lacks arrogance, his feelings lack attachment. With a body that is clear and a spirit that is upright, his notion of right and wrong is fair and acceptable. He is loyal and respectful to the enlightened king, and sincere and trusting to the common people. He relegates ambition to the remote wastelands, handing down magnanimity to the end of time. Are these not the high actions and beautiful wishes of the worthy person, the gentleman?

君子既有其質, 又覩其鑒, 貴夫亮逹, 希而存之, 惡夫矜吝, 棄而遠之。所措一非, 而内愧乎神; 賤所隱一闕, 而外慙其形。言無茍諱, 而行無茍隱。不以愛之而茍 善, 不以惡之而茍非。心無所矜, 而情無所繫, 體清神正, 而是非允當。忠感明天 子, 而信篤乎萬民。寄胷懷於八荒, 垂坦蕩以永日。斯非賢人君子, 高行之美冀 者乎 (Dai 2014: 405).

For the gentleman qua sage, nothing is more precious than Dao, yet authentic understanding of Dao is rarely seen in the human world, hence he works at preserving his own. However, this preservation of knowledge is not merely for the sake of having it but the ability to take comfort in not employing it.38 Knowledge of Dao is not something that can be directly transmitted to others; does preserving it qualify as selfishness? The answer would have to be no, for knowledge of Dao is not knowledge of things in particular but all things collectively. As human knowledge in no 36  See Ji Kang’s “Sound is without Grief or Joy” (Sheng wu Aile lun 聲無哀樂論) and “Rhapsody on the Zither” (Qin fu 琴賦). 37  The examples being referred to are the banishment of Shen Hou 申候 and the execution of Chancellor Pi 宰嚭. 38  Chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性) of the Zhuangzi says: “Those in ancient times who practiced Dao cultivated their knowledge in tranquility; although knowledge lived in them they did not act on its behalf. In this way, we may say they used knowledge to cultivate tranquility. Knowledge and tranquility took turns cultivating each other and harmony and natural order emerged from the inborn nature 古之治道者, 以恬養知; 知生而無以知為也, 謂之以知養恬。知與恬交相養, 而和理出 其性.” Guo 1985: 548.

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way represents that of the myriad things of the world, why does humanity uphold its dark, divisive grip on life instead of letting Nature enlighten us about moral openness? Such being the case, is it any wonder Ji Kang says the gentleman does not welcome arrogance and stinginess but keeps them far afield? Arrogance and stinginess are manifestations of a heart-mind served by self-­ interest; both are driven by a deep-seated insecurity with one’s inborn-nature, a nature bestowed by Dao. Using the profound light of Dao, the gentleman employs his self in a manner attuned to its naturalness, and so does no wrong. Should he deliberately—artificially—employ things out of arrogance or stinginess, he runs the risk of injuring his spirit; should he conceal things for the same reasons, he runs the risk of bodily injury. This is why his heart-mind has no room for arrogance and his feelings do not attach themselves to things. In this way, the gentleman’s body remains clear and his spirit upright. This, furthermore, explains why he interacts with the king and common people in a manner reflective of his own connectedness to Dao. Passing-over a short discussion of historical persons exemplifying the above, Ji Kang ends this section of the Essay with these remarks: To lack self-interest yet be wrong is because the will is focused on not employing things. To say that one does not employ things is not equal to saying one’s actions will be wholly right. To say that one is overly stingy is not the same as saying one simply stops speaking. Thus, to be overly stingy is wrong while not employing things is right.

無私而有非者, 無措之志也。夫言無措者, 不齊於必盡也; 言多吝者, 不具於不言 而已。故多吝有非, 無措有是 (Dai 2014: 406).

Forcing oneself to not employ things is not as good as naturally leaving things be; forcefully trying to be without self-interest is a perversion of being self-interested. Ji Kang, as we have seen, allows for mistakes to occur; however, one must be willing to openly discuss them if they are to be rectified. When the heart-mind is no longer driven by pride, and when one’s words return to the lowly ground from which they sprout, right and wrong simply become matters of perspective, not divergence. Stinginess is thus a closing-off of fickleness, and fickleness is the funnel through which openness is strangled. If we wish to break the chains of all that stinginess entails, we must opt for the releasement of not employing things. Allowing the world to govern itself is to allow the myriad things to employ their inborn-nature as it was bestowed to them by Dao. As chapter 10 of the Daodejing writes: “[Dao] creates things without possessing them, assists them without making them reliant [on it], and lets them grow without being controlling 生而不有, 為而不恃, 長而不宰.”39 One can employ things, as Dao does, without injuring them, just as one can refrain from rambling without resorting to silence; what allows this to occur is moral openness.

39

 Lou 1999: 24.

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5  Conclusion Ji Kang’s Essay draws to a close without any noticeable fanfare: In this way, the correctness of not employing things comes from the will not having self-­ praise and the heart-mind not having desire. When one is clear about the profound nature of great Dao and acts naturally, the result is one can do no wrong. To embrace the One40 and not employ things, one will be without self-interest and do no wrong. When these two meanings are combined, there will be nothing but goodness. To be wrong yet willing to admit as much is better than not saying anything out of self-interest; to be wrong yet not employ things is hence a small error. Now, Diwu Lun41 was wrong but he revealed it and so we cannot say he lacked openness; in revealing all of his rights and wrongs, we cannot say he is self-interested. If we say he has self-interest because he was wrong, we would have to say such a view is confused. This is the principle of openness and self-interest.

然無措之所以有是, 以志無所尚, 心無所欲, 逹乎大道之情, 動以自然, 則無道以至 非也。抱一而無措, 則無私無非。兼有二義, 乃爲絶美耳。若非而能言者, 是賢 於不言之私, 有非無措, 亦非之小者也。今第五倫有非而能顯, 不可謂不公也; 所 顯是非, 不可謂有措也。有非而謂私, 不可謂不惑。公私之理也 (Dai 2014: 406).

Repeating his argument that the will and heart-mind must not be utilized if one hopes to avoid doing wrong, Ji Kang also revisits an idea raised at the start of the Essay, that is, comprehending the great Dao42 and acting in accordance with Nature is the praxis by which one can do no wrong. What does Ji Kang mean by this? His response is to conjoin with things in oneness. By viewing all things equally, there is no longer the possibility for individualism to enter the fray, and such being the case, self-interest vanishes and incorrectness along with it. With right and wrong no longer an influencing agent in the world, good and bad fall by the wayside, leaving behind the authentic virtue of Dao. What is natural to Dao is hence natural to all that arises from it, and said arising, because it is not coerced and without self-interest on the part of Dao, benefits the entire world and thus is good. Said differently, the good is openness pushed to the cosmological level; the bad is privation reduced to the human level. The former surpasses the latter in all cases because the openness of Dao makes everything possible—it is potential-in-waiting. So long as one is open about one’s mistake and corrects it by inverting the self-interest that led to its occurrence into its opposite (i.e., openness), the need to employ things will slowly fade away. Ji Kang’s message, despite its deceiving simplicity, thus proves to be extremely powerful; it would have surely been a wakeup call for the people of his day. It would seem his goal was not to make people feel better about themselves but, rather, to engage one another in honest and non-prejudicial dialogue. Like his writings on

 “Embracing the One” (baoyi 抱一) is from chapter 22 of the Daodejing. See Lou 1999: 56.  Diwu Lun’s dates are unknown, however, according to the History of the Later Han 後漢書, he was a high-ranking minister in the Eastern Han court. For more on Diwu’s life, see De Crespigny 2007: 145–146. 42  The phrase “great Dao” (da dao 大道) occurs four times in the Daodejing, eight times in the Zhuangzi, six times in the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記), and twice in the Mencius 孟子. It is, in other words, a phrase with diverse philosophical application.

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music and learning, Ji Kang’s belief that the natural world was as much a pedagogical tool as a necessary component of life, played a major role in shaping his views on human morality. That the world was not ready to heed such words was not Ji Kang’s fault. Does this make his Essay a less-than-worthy piece of philosophy? Absolutely not. Would modern society benefit from bringing Ji Kang’s doctrines out of the shadows and into mainstream philosophical discourse? It would indeed.

Bibliography Brindley, Erica. 2013. “The Polarization of the Concepts “Si” (Private Interest) and “Gong” (Public Interest) in Early Chinese Thought.” Asia Major, 26.2: 1–31. Chai, David. 2017a. “Ji Kang on Nourishing Life.” Frontiers of Philosophy in China, 12.1: 38–53. Chai, David. 2017b. “Zhuangzi and Musical Apophasis.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 16.3: 355–370. Chai, David. 2019. Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness. Albany: State University of New York Press. Cheng, Shude 程樹德. 1997. Collected Annotations on Lunyu 論語集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Dai, Mingyang 戴明揚. 2014. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on Ji Kang’s Works 嵇康 集校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. de Crespigny, Rafe. 2007. A Biographical Dictionary of Later Han to the Three Kingdoms (23–220 AD). Leiden: Brill. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Henricks, Robert. 1976. Hsi K’ang: His Life, Literature and Thought. Ph.D.  Dissertation, University of Wisconsin-Madison. Henricks, Robert. 1983. Philosophy and Argumentation in Third-Century China: The Essays of Hsi K’ang. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Huang, Huaixin 黄怀信. 2004. A Collection of Annotations and Collected Commentaries on Heguanzi 鶡冠子彙校集注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Liqi 王利器. 2009. Annotations on the Meaning of Wenzi 文子疏義. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yang, Bojun 楊伯峻. 2007. Collected Annotations on Liezi 列子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. David Chai is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. He is the author of Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness (2019), and editor of Daoist Encounters with Phenomenology: Thinking Interculturally about Human Existence (2020). His works have appeared in a wide variety of journals and edited anthologies covering the fields of Chinese philosophy, metaphysics, phenomenology, hermeneutics, and comparative philosophy.

Chapter 13

The Aesthetics of Musical Emotion in Ji Kang’s “Music has in It Neither Grief nor Joy” So Jeong Park

1  Introduction Xi Kang 嵇康 (224–263 CE) is perhaps the most dramatic figure among Xuanxue thinkers.1 His personal life was like a tragic hero: he became a member of the Wei 魏 royal family by marrying Cao Cao 曹操’s granddaughter2 in his early 20’s, which turned into one of the main reasons for his untimely death by the Sima 司馬 clan that eventually took over the Wei dynasty in 265  CE.  His philosophical achievements are often veiled by his enigmatic image as a leading member of the “Seven Worthies of the Bamboo Grove” (Zhulin Qixian 竹林七賢), a group of drunken poets, scholars, and musicians. Despite his relatively young age, he was

In this chapter, I will pronounce his name “Xi Kang” considering the pronunciation he would have preferred. Although “Ji” is the standard pronunciation of 嵇 in modern pinyin, and which I adopted in another article (Park 2013b), I would like to respect the original pronunciation of his surname recalling that Kang’s family changed their surname from Xi 奚 to Ji 嵇. For more, see Knechtges and Chang 2014: 1407. I use Dai Mingyang’s 戴明揚 version for the original text and follow Robert Henricks’ translation, unless stated otherwise. 1  Knechtges and Chang (2014: 1407) point out that the birth and death dates of Xi Kang are controversial and four different opinions are presented. I follow 224–263 CE, the most accepted of them, keeping in mind the other three alternatives such as: 225–264, 223–262, and rarely 216–255. 2  Her name is Changle tingzhu 長樂亭主 and some scholars also claim that she was a greatgranddaughter of Cao Cao. See Knechtges and Chang 2014: 1408.

S. J. Park (*) Department of Korean Philosophy, Sungkyunkwan University, Seoul, South Korea © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_13

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considered the representative figure of the Bamboo Grove group.3 His personality appears to be a mixture of two extremes: radical and serene. While his contempt for social customs and power-oriented people led him to write the famous “letter breaking-off our friendship” (Juejiao shu 絕交書),4 the tranquility shown just before his execution was repeatedly portrayed in various records as a symbol of philosophical and aesthetic death.5 Although the Daodejing 道德經 and Zhuangzi 莊子 were regarded as major philosophical sources of the Xuanxue movement, no one publicly expressed oneself as a Daoist like Xi Kang, who boldly declared: “Laozi and Zhuangzi are my teachers 老子、莊周, 吾之師也.”6 Was his declaration simply an exaggerated confession as a fervent admirer of Daoism, or a sober endorsement for Daoism from a serious philosophical point of view? Depending on which side you take, the level of attention you place on reading his writings could vary. If you take the former, you may think the contradiction in his writings is not an issue. If it is the latter, you will have to look more closely at the complex context of meaning to understand his ambivalent voice. His famous and influential essay “Music has in it Neither Grief nor Joy” (Sheng wu Aile lun 聲無哀 樂論)—hereafter Shenglun7—leads us to this kind of choice, and so I would like to take the latter position for a more in-depth analysis. Shenglun occupies a unique position in the history of Chinese musical thought but it is not clear what Xi Kang really wants to claim. As the title suggests, he seems to simply reject any attribution of emotions to music. However, throughout the essay he repeatedly states that “sounds in harmony and sequence are what move people most deeply 聲音和比, 感人之最深 者.”8 Furthermore, he seems to accept the well-known Confucian proposition of music’s power to “improve customs and better traditions 移風易俗,”9 which

 Xi Kang was much younger than the other major figures such as Ruan Ji 阮籍 and Shan Tao 山 濤. Considering another common opinion on his lifetime, 225–264, he was 15 years younger than

3

Ruan and 20 years younger than Shan. 4  Xi Kang actually wrote two letters of this sort: one to Shan Tao (Ju Yuan 巨源), and one to Lü Xun 呂巽 (Chang Ti 長悌). They were probably written in the same year (i.e., 262 CE). The first letter spread rapidly to the public and remains one of the most famous letters in Chinese history to this day. However, it is not clear whether his intention was to really break-off or perhaps to protect Shan Tao who decided to serve the Sima clan’s Jin dynasty, considering that the last word Xi Kang gave to his son was “you will not be lonely because you have Shan Tao 巨源在, 汝不孤矣.” See Shan Tao’s biography in the History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書), 1223. 5  These anecdotes appear in the Wenshi zhuan 文士傳, the Jinshu 晉書, the Shishuo Xinyu 世說 新語, etc. 6  See “Letter to Shan Tao for Breaking-off our Friendship 與山巨源絕交書.” 7  This translation follows Henricks; for other variations, see: Chinn 2015, Rošker 2014, Middendorf 2010, and Chai 2009. 8  As described in detail below, this kind of expression is not coincidental but is repeatedly mentioned in almost every conversation by the “Host of the East 東野主人,” a spokesperson for Xi Kang. 9  This translation comes from Henricks. Middendorf (2010: 142) translates it as “moves their airs and changes their customs.”

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presupposes the close relationship between music and emotions. How should we understand these seemingly self-contradictory statements? Does he really claim that music has no emotions? Does he consistently maintain the Daoist philosophy of music? For the question of relationship between music and emotion, a possible solution might be an arousal theory. That is to say, it is not that music is a bearer of emotions, but that autonomous sounds merely release emotions which were already stored in someone’s heart. Most contemporary Xi Kang scholars take this position.10 However, Xi Kang seems too radical to be an arousal theorist. He refuses associating any emotional terms with music, while contemporary arousal theorists have no problems with calling music sad, as long as sorrow is an emotion aroused by that music. Above all, the arousal theorists aim to explain “music’s expressiveness with actually felt emotions” (Kania 2014) but Xi Kang does not.11 Ironically, he endorses the aforementioned Confucian motto, “music improves customs and enhances traditions,”12 that any contemporary music theorist is unlikely to actively advocate. This irony leads us to the following question: Is Xi Kang’s philosophy of music Confucian or Daoist? He may have confused the Daoist philosophy of music with the Confucian. More specifically, Shenglun may be seen as a mixture of Zhuangzian and Xunzian influences.13 Many Xi Kang scholars, regardless of being contemporary or traditional, hold this position and conclude that the eighth dialogue of Shenglun, which contains the Confucian ideal about music’s power to move, contradicts the previous seven dialogues.14 I diagnose that these views stem from a simplistic understanding of Daoist theory of emotion and music. Thus, they fail to provide a consistent reading on Shenglun. The purpose of Xi Kang’s thesis is not to detach emotions from music, or to explain how different kinds of music and emotion can relate to one another, but to speak of a balanced heart-mind (hexin 和心)15 through music, and an emotional state as self-attainment (zide 自得), which do not reveal any emotional expression.16

 See Henricks 1983: 71; Chai 2009: 166; and Chinn 2015: 41.  “Feelings go forth in sound 情發於聲.” Chinn (2015: 25) has “feelings are released by sound.” She attributes a resemblance theory to Confucianism in general but contemporary expression theory of music to the position of the Guest and an arousal theory (in more restrictive version) to Xi Kang. See Chinn 2015: 41–42. 12  This proposition comes from the Xunzi 荀子. Refer to Hutton’s (2014: 220) translation: “Music is something in which the sages delighted, for it has the power to make good the hearts of the people, to influence men deeply, and to reform their manners and customs with facility.” 13  See Middendorf 2010: 151. 14  See Cai 1997: 360–361. 15  Hexin 和心 appears once in the eighth dialogue, but the related term “well-tuned and balanced mind” (pinghe 平和)” appears several times. 16  Henricks (1983: 99) notices that “self-attainment” is a higher form of joy, which means a kind of emotion. “Self-attainment” appears not only in Shenglun but also as a music-associated emotion in his other essays such as “An Essay on Nourishing Life 養生論.” See Henricks 1983: 30. For more on the essay Nourishing Life, see Chai 2017a. 10 11

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I would call these states “musical emotion” and argue that Xi Kang opposes the music theories that prevent us from accessing the mutual resonance between various emotions and musical variations by associating specific music with particular emotions, while he never denies the power of music to move us and uplift our emotions. Xuanxue debates on emotion, represented by He Yan’s 何晏 (190–249 CE) thesis that the sage has no emotion,17 could lead us to a simple dichotomy that a Daoist disapproves of emotion while a Confucian approves. However, I would say that this dichotomy never works for exploring the complex nature of Daoism. In the following, I will provide a comprehensive reading of Shenglun by examining the expressions and ideas derived from the Zhuangzi, construing the phrases that promote musical emotion, and then reconsider the eighth dialogue in a consistent manner with the other dialogues. By doing so, I aim to demonstrate that Xi Kang has developed a convincing theory of music and emotion which is worthy of the title of Xuanxue, and moreover, argue that his proposal of musical emotion could reveal a new dimension of the relationship between music and emotion that has been overlooked in contemporary music aesthetics.

2  Expressions and Ideas Derived from the Zhuangzi Scholars have pointed out that Xi Kang’s Shenglun was influenced by the Zhuangzi mainly in relation to the latter’s second chapter (qiwulun 齊物論), and to some of the other Inner Chapters (neipian 内篇). The Shenglun is comprised of eight dialogues between “the Guest” from Qin (qinke 秦客), who defends the mainstream Confucian view, and the “Host of the East” (dongye zhuren 東野主人), the spokesperson for Xi Kang. In these dialogues, the Host often borrows verses and messages from the Zhuangzi to construct his arguments. The first noticeable example of a Zhuangzian idea appears when the Host defines the association of emotions with music as a longstanding “error with respect to name and reality” (Henricks 1983: 73). The discrepancy between name and reality arises when we assign a fixed name such as “sad music” or “joyful music” to the music that triggers a diverse range of emotions.18 The problem of such a mismatch between name and reality comes not from the fact that music and emotion are totally different things, but from the more significant fact that the emotion that is triggered from a certain piece of music can vary in countless ways.19  The full title of He Yan’s thesis is “The Sage is without Delight or Anger, Grief, or Joy 聖人無 喜怒哀樂.” Middendorf (2010) carefully observes how this Zhengshi 正始 (240–249 CE) debate

17

on the emotions of the sage are related to Ruan Ji and Xi Kang’s essays on music.  Chai (2009: 157) points out the Host uses “Zhuangzi’s argument over the reality of names and the relativistic nature of language.” 19  In the first dialogue, the Host seems to emphasize that music and emotion are different kinds, but as the conversation continues, the emphasis shifts to the latter issue, i.e., the diversity of emotions and sounds. 18

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Table 13.1  The mechanism of “blowing differently” from feelings to sounds and from sounds to feelings Original Text

今用均同之情, 而發萬殊之聲, 斯非音聲之無常 哉 吹萬不同, 而使 其自己 人情不自同, 各 師所解, 則發其 所懷 其音無變於昔, 而歡慼幷用, 斯 非吹萬不同邪

Translation Now if you use feelings that are the same to produce completely different sounds, is this not because music has no constant [relation to emotion] (Henricks 1983: 74).

Remarks The case of same in mind, but different in sound

It blows differently through the ten thousand things but causes each to be itself (Henricks 1983: 75). People’s feelings are not the same. We each take our own view as the correct one and then express what we feel (Henricks 1983: 95). There has been no change in the song from what they were playing before, yet sorrow and happiness both result. Is this not a case of ‘blowing differently through the ten thousand things’ (Henricks 1983: 95).

Mechanism of blowing The case of same in sound, but different in mind Mechanism of blowing

To explain this, the Host quotes the heavenly piping story from the Zhuangzi: “It blows differently through the ten thousand things, but causes each to be itself 吹萬 不同, 而使其自己” (Henricks 1983: 75). The idea of “blowing differently through the myriad things” is not only a phrase appearing repeatedly, but also a core idea throughout Shenglun. In the second chapter of the Zhuangzi, it was a metaphor for various emotions as well as various sounds that react differently when blown. Likewise, Xi Kang applies this mechanism of blowing to both emotion and music. Not only are diverse emotions triggered by the same music, but also, to trigger a certain emotional state would be to produce a variety of different sounds. Thus, the mechanism of “blowing differently” works in both directions between music and emotion as follows (Table 13.1). Xi Kang seems to have read the Zhuangzi very broadly and deeply; he does not merely borrow a few verses from it, he further develops the advanced version of Zhuangzian musical discourse based on what is said in both the Inner and Outer chapters. It is the Xianchi 咸池 music story in chapter 14 (tianyun 天運) of the Zhuangzi that shows the subtle relationship between musical and emotional variations.20 When Xi Kang explains music and emotions, he employs the terms “constancy” (chang 常) and “being bounded” (zhu 主), which are underscored in the key terms for musical variations in Xianchi music.21 In contrast to the Confucian musical ideal, the Xianchi music story describes the improvisation that changes according to the listener’s perception, using the expressions of “the constancies alternate unendingly 所常無窮,” “not bounded by any preceding constancy 不主故常,” and  As for the full structure and interpretation of the Xianchi music story, see Park 2016; as for the relationship between heavenly piping and the Xianchi music story, see Park 2013b; Chai 2017b. 21  Refer to Table 1 of Park 2016. 20

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“not bounded by any constant sounds 不主常聲,” incrementing in depth from the former to the latter. The Host’s argument is exactly in the vein of Xianchi music. He stresses repeatedly that there is no constancy in music; music has no constant relationship to emotions and a certain emotion can be expressed in a variety of tunes from different cultures. The idea of “no constancy” (wuchang 無常) appears throughout Shenglun in various forms22 as well as the idea of “being bounded” (suozhu 所主) or “not being bounded” (wuzhu 無主, lit. “with no master”). From Xi Kang’s point of view, if you listen to music and just release the emotions already in your mind, it will not be the most appropriate response. Xi Kang calls this a case of “having a master inside 有主於內” or “what one’s own teacher understood 各師所解.” The combination of master and teacher metaphor is an exquisite blend of distinctive expressions from the Inner and Outer chapters of the Zhuangzi. If you released your ready-made emotion, sadness or pleasure, instead of perceiving the harmony of music as it is, you were bound to feel sad or pleased by your own teacher (shi 師) or master (zhu 主). As pronounced in chapter 2 of the Zhuangzi, everyone has a formed mind which acts as if a teacher, leading us to do this and not that. Xi Kang acknowledges that this mechanism of emotion is commonplace but, instead of just affirming it, suggests that a kind of harmonious and peaceful heart-mind is possible: People’s emotions are not the same. Each person forms a view according to his teacher and then releases the emotions already in their heart-mind (when hearing music). To say “well-­ tuned and balanced mind,” grief and joy will be equally at the same level, and there will be no such emotional release mentioned ahead. Therefore, one will eventually get a fierce or calm response (depending on the music). But if there is an emotion that is released (unlike a natural response to music), this is done by the inner master, not by a well-tuned and balanced mind.23

人情不同, 各師所解, 則發其所懷。若言平和, 哀樂正等, 則無所先發, 故終得躁 靜。若有所發, 則是有主於內, 不爲平和也。

As we see above in the fifth answer of the Host, Xi Kang uses the teacher and master metaphors from the Zhuangzi to develop his own argument about music and emotion. What is noteworthy here is that he describes the state of deep emotion, not divided into grief or joy, as “a well-tuned and balanced mind” (pinghe 平和). The term pinghe refers to not only the essence of music but also the ideal state of emotion.24 Xi Kang criticizes the situation that the already formed sadness is released by

 The term “no constancy” (wuchang 無常) appears eight times in various forms, such as “yinsheng zhi wuchang 音聲之無常” and “shengyin zhi wuchang 聲音之無常.” 23  The translation is mine. Henricks’ translation is helpful but does not articulate the concepts of “chang 常,” “being bounded by a master,” and “teacher,” etc. See Henricks 1983: 95. 24  When the Host says “a well-tuned and balanced mind is the essence of music 聲音以平和爲 體,” pinghe refers to music. On the other hand, pinghe in the expression “a person of pinghe 平和 之人,” refers to the emotional state. Additionally, Ruan Ji also uses pinghe as an emotional state in his “Essay on Music 樂論”: “Music makes people’s spirits pinghe 樂者, 使人精神平和.” 22

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the inner master (aixin youzhu 哀心有主), but it does not mean that we are not moved by music. On the contrary, he repeatedly emphasizes that music deeply moves us and we can reach the emotional state of harmony through music. Although this state does not seem to fit the usual classification of emotions such as joy or sadness, it is hard to deny that this is an emotional state. As Xi Kang stresses this state can be stimulated and developed through music, I would like to call this “musical emotion.” In the following, let us examine the passages of Shenglun that highlight musical emotions and discuss how musical emotions differ from common emotions.

3  Music, Emotions, and Musical Emotion It is a well-known fact that Xi Kang criticizes the imposition of emotional vocabulary on music, but it is not well recognized that he almost always talks about musical emotions immediately after such criticism. For example, the phrase “harmonious sounds move people most deeply 聲音和比, 感人之最深者” comes right after the paragraph that criticizes the parallel connection of music and emotions.25 Xi Kang says that music does not make us sad or joyful, and at the same time, that music touches us deeply. Unless you distinguish musical emotions from general emotions, his words may sound contradictory. That is to say, Xi Kang distinguishes two types of emotions in response to music as following: when you listen to music, you can pour out already existing emotions, but you may also feel an unoccupied emotion. The former emotions are easy to experience and commonly found, but not musical. The latter state of emotion may seem obscure but, without it, you will not be able to understand what music is. It is because you can release the former emotions without music, but you cannot obtain the latter emotion without music. Thus, Xi Kang places the latter beyond the former. This idea spans the entire essay and, as shown below, the expressions associated with musical emotion, such as “music touches us,” appear in almost every conversation. Although Xi Kang distinguishes between general emotions and musical emotions and pays more attention to the latter, he does not think general emotions as something to be removed because such emotions are also what are aroused by music,26 and he is moreover conscious of the broad spectrum of emotional variations encompassing general to musical emotions. For example, joy is not just one kind of joy. Emotions classified in the same category can also have quantitative and qualitative

 The original text reads: “夫殊方異俗, 歌哭不同, 使錯而用之, 或聞哭而歡, 或聽歌而戚。 然其哀樂之懷, 均也。今用均同之情, 而發萬殊之聲, 斯非音聲之無常哉? 然聲音和比, 感人之最深者也.” 25

26  Indeed, the Host has no problem with the situation that some people feel joy and others feel sorrow while enjoying at the same banquet, and explains that music is “blowing differently through the myriad things” and releasing each one’s unique emotions.

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differences. Xi Kang says: “There can be much or little of grief or joy, and the extremes of grief and joy do not necessarily show in the same way 哀樂各有多少, 又哀樂之極, 不必同致也” (Henricks 1983: 98). A little joy shows your face lighting up, a bigger joy launches a smile on the whole face, and a much bigger joy makes you clap your hands and dance your feet (Henricks 1983: 99). These are quantitative differences in joy. However, even the greatest joy expressed by applause and dance cannot compare to the emotional state of self-attainment (zide 自得), where nothing happens and no emotional change is observable. This state of self-­attainment can also be called joy but the amount of joy is not measured as small or big. If you are fully resonant with music without any preoccupations in your mind, you will be able to feel this sort of musical emotion that cannot simply be assigned with joy or grief. Considering the complex relationship of music and emotion he contemplates, we can now understand why Xi Kang likens music to wine: “The stimulation of men’s hearts by harmonious sounds is in fact like the uninhibiting effect that wine has on their natures 和聲之感人心, 亦猶醞酒之發人性也” (Henricks 1983: 81).27 He is not saying that music is like a chemical compound such as a drink containing ethanol, but rather that music is a direct and immediate catalyst for our emotions, just as alcohol instantly acts on our body. This immediacy that Xi Kang has set between music and emotions leads us to reconsider what is called “musical emotion.” Musical emotions are not only the deepest emotions that cannot be defined by specific emotional vocabulary but they are also the most immediate and intimate. When talking about general emotions, Xi Kang emphasizes the distance between music and emotions by illustrating countless variations that can occur between the two.28 Various musical expressions can come out from one emotion while various emotions can be released by the same music. Conversely, he accentuates the intimacy of mutual resonance between music and emotion when he comes up with musical emotions. Meilin Chinn focuses on the distance Xi Kang made between music and emotions. She considers his position as a type of arousal theory, but elegantly points out that his view is more radical than any contemporary philosophy of music (Chinn 2015: 41). As for the intimacy between music and emotions, however, she would not agree on the idea of musical emotions. She states that Xi Kang would not endorse any attribution of emotions to music and that the distance is necessary for securing a critical space to explore music’s meaningfulness.29 I believe that her view

 I follow Henricks’ translation but change “harmony” to “harmonious sounds.”  For example, the Host says that if we want to check the errors of those examples associating a certain emotion with a certain music, “even a skilled reckoner will not be able to keep track of it all 恐巧歷不能紀耳.” Henricks 1983: 80. 29  “Whatever the philosophical potential here, it is unlikely that Xi Kang would endorse even an intransitive attribution of emotions to music. Heeding his warning about conflating our responses to music with what music itself conveys, we might allow for the possibility of listening joyfully to music while at this point avoiding the stronger claim that music is joyful. The distance he places between music and emotions, and by extension music and meaning, should not be hastily collapsed, for it establishes a critical space for the question of how, and whether, music is meaningful.” Chinn 2015: 76. 27 28

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is more or less based on defining emotions in a dichotomous framework. We need to understand “emotions” not just as subjective experiences, but also as mutual resonance at a deeper level. As Chinn unerringly noticed, the Asian concept of “mutual resonance” (ganying 感應) is not diachronic but synchronic, which implies a simultaneous and interactive intimacy rather than a stimulus-response mechanism in which an internal reaction occurs after an external stimulus comes in.30 Whether Xi Kang uses gan and ying together or separately, these terms are closely related to musical emotions.31 I do believe he considers the distance and the intimacy between music and emotion as well. Without acknowledging the intimacy of “musical emotion,”32 we may overlook many examples of immediate mutual resonance between music and emotion emphasized by Xi Kang, as shown in Table 13.2. He clearly distinguishes between “musical emotion,” the state of “being moved by musical harmony 和之所感,” and general emotions released by one’s own teacher inside (mobu zifa 莫不自發) in the case of someone listening to harmonious sounds but having tears flowing.33 What Xi Kang assumes here is “a deep emotional state” or “the state of mind deeply moved by music” that is not tilted to any emotion—joy, sadness, fear, disgust, anger, or anything else. Recent studies in music psychology assume a deeper level of emotional state, “musical emotions,” as a theoretical tool. Although only aroused emotions at the surface level may perhaps be observable, but it is very hard to solve the longstanding dilemma between music and emotions without adopting “musical emotions” beyond mere surface features.34 However, Xi Kang not only required “musical emotions” theoretically, but also arguably envisioned a complex mechanism in which music and emotions actually worked together, mutually resonating in the forms of stimulation (gan 感), motivation (dong 動), and response (ying 應). If he had anticipated such a mechanism, it would not be strange for him to consent to the notion of “completely achieved customs and traditions 風俗壹成” as an ideal situation where each person has restored a harmonious heart-mind. However, the fact that this

30

 “Ganying is often and erroneously translated as “stimulus-response.” When the meanings of gan

感 as “to feel,” “to move,” “to touch,” or “to affect” and ying 應 as “to answer” or “to respond,” are kept separate, we are led toward the diachronic, “stimulus-response” translation. However, closer consideration of the range of meanings indicates that ganying is a more aesthetic activity driven by synchronic, mutual affectivity. Both gan and ying contain the heart radical (心), implying that their interaction is not mechanistic but arises through feeling.” Chinn 2015: 54. 31  In Shenglun, ganying appears only once; gan and ying appear respectively twenty-six and twenty times. 32  Chinn only allows the intimacy of listening in terms of music’s meaningfulness. Nevertheless, she goes very close to the intimacy of musical emotion when she says the following: “Sonority provokes the immediate immersion of a listener in the qualitative feeling of the sound, and thus to an intimacy with what are arguably the more affective aspects of sound.” Chinn 2015: 64. 33  “聽和聲而流涕者, 斯非和之所感, 莫不自發也.” See Henricks 1983: 98. 34  “Researchers have tried to obtain direct links between surface features and aroused emotions. This approach has prevented us from explaining individual differences (e.g., that the same piece of music can evoke different emotions in different listeners), and has led to overly simple conclusions (e.g., that fast tempo evokes positive emotions). The solution to this dilemma, we argue, is a theory-based approach to musical emotions that goes beyond mere surface features.” See Juslin et al. 2014: 602.

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Table 13.2  The passages related to musical emotions Original Text 宮商集比, 聲音 克諧, 此人心至 願, 情欲之所鍾 聲音和比, 感人

Translation Coming to C and D together and in sequence, and sounds and tones in harmony: this is the great delight of man’s mind, what the feelings and desires love (Henricks 1983: 73). However, sounds in harmony and sequence are what move people most deeply (Henricks 1983: 74). 之最深者也 心動于和聲 The heart is moved by harmonious sounds (Henricks 1983: 75). 和聲之感人心 The stimulation of men’s hearts by harmony (Henricks 1983: 81). 此先王之至樂, This is the perfect music of the former kings. By means of this 所以動天地感 they moved heaven and earth and stimulated ghosts and spirits (Henricks 1983: 84). 鬼神者也 聲音以平和爲 Peace and harmony is the substance of music, but it moves things 體, 而感物無常 in different ways (Henricks 1983: 96). 至和之發滯導 This is truly because Perfect Harmony has released pent-up emotions and drawn out people’s feelings (Henricks 1983: 97). 情 此爲樂之應聲, This means that in the response of joy to music, self-attainment: how can it not be true (Henricks 1983: 99). 以自得爲主 夫音聲和比, 人 Sounds in harmony and sequence: this is something that cannot be 情所不能已者 completely experience by the emotions (Henricks 1983: 103).

也 心感於和

Their hearts moved by harmony (Henricks 1983: 106).

Remarks

gan 感 dong 動 gan 感 dong 動 gan 感 gan 感 fa 發 ying 應

gan 感

notion has a Confucian origin makes it difficult for many people to understand the eighth dialogue in which this concept appears. Based on the observations so far, I will re-examine the eighth dialogue below.

4  The Development of Arguments and the Eighth Dialogue The eighth dialogue is not an abrupt or awkward ending, but rather a mature conclusion based-on steadily built-up momentum as the conversation progresses. If you believe Xi Kang only emphasizes the distance between music and emotion, then it would be hard to understand the eighth dialogue. However, considering that he regarded the mutual resonance of music and emotion as a more important issue, the eighth dialogue can be understood as the peak of his argument. In fact, it has many unexplored concepts that are awaiting further interpretation, such as the phrase “improving customs and bettering traditions 移風易俗.” Interestingly enough, major concepts rarely seen in the other dialogues are mostly gathered in the eighth, especially in the replies of the Host, such as “hexin 和 心”, “heqi 和氣”, and “shenqi 神氣.”35 These expressions show that Xi Kang is emphasizing the intimacy, as well as the distance, of music and emotion, suggesting musical emotion is a deep emotional state. If one reads Shenglun focusing only on  These expressions appear only once in Shenglun, however, they are used in a variety of other sources. For example, hexin can be found in the Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋 while shenqi appears in the Zhuangzi, Huainanzi 淮南子, Huangdi Neijing 黃帝內經, among others.

35

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claims that separate music and emotion, then the following will seem strange: “Filled with a harmonious heart on the inside, they manifested a harmonious manner on the out … responded to it with Great Harmony. They guided their spirits and breath, nourished them and brought them to completion 和心足於內, 和氣見於外 ⋯⋯ 感之以太和, 導其神氣, 養而就之” (Henricks 1983: 101–102). However, if you pay attention to the phrases that indicate the intimacy of mutual resonance between music and emotion, you can detect that Xi Kang is now earnestly talking about such intimacy. As seen from the expressions, “both inside and outside in harmony” and “resonating with great harmony,” Xi Kang talks about the intimacy that can be perceived. Xi Kang can discuss the intimacy so outspokenly because the dialogues are ripe now. He is never sharply changing his attitude from the distant to the intimate, and is responding to the eighth question consequentially raised by the Guest as the conversation escalates. Let us examine the flow of the conversations to understand why the Guest has finally raised the question, “music’s power to improve customs,” which can be viewed as the last-ditch defense of Confucian musical discourse (Table 13.3). Scrutinizing the whole conversation, you will find the Guest’s questions shift step by step. In question one (Q1), the Guest is a resolute supporter of Confucian music politics. He firmly believes in the longstanding catchphrase, “the songs of a well-ordered age are peaceful and happy, but the songs of a doomed state are sad and melancholy 治世之音安以樂, 亡國之音哀以思” (Henricks 1983: 72), and asked provocatively, as if this is an unquestionable fact that everyone agrees with yet only the Host holds a strange view. After hearing the argument of “music has no constant relation to emotions” in the first answer (A1), the Guest begins to explain why individual exceptional cases arise despite the fact that music has a constant relationship to emotions. In question two (Q2), he enumerates various examples in the Confucian literature, claiming that all skilled listeners or examiners, such as musicians and scholars, can accurately read the corresponding emotions and images embedded from music. In the third question (Q3), he narrows the range of skilled listeners and claims that at least a blind musician with sharp ears will be able to identify exactly subtle differences in music. When the Host raises the possibility of musical variations according to the difference between the producer and the performer in answer three (A3), the Guest complains, in question four (Q4), that the Host’s view is the same as the claim that all records and words from antiquity should be abandoned. From Q2 to Q4, though slightly different from each other, it was basically an appeal to authority. Now, the Guest tries to refute the Host’s point of view based on reasoning about empirical facts. Recognizing that there can be people who listen to the same music and react differently, and further, that there may be people who are more saddened after hearing joyous songs, the Guest claims in question five (Q5) that a person who has a peaceful mind will not capriciously react, but respond to a joyous song with joy while, in question six (Q6), those mismatched cases are only applied to persons with predisposed feelings. He also presents an empirical example of the general reaction to Qi 齊 or Chu 楚 music at that time. Then, the Host rebuts

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Table 13.3  The progression of the eight debates between the Guest and the Host The Guest

The Host

Q2: The skilled listener and examiner 善聽察者要自覺之 ⋯⋯ 鍾子 ⋯⋯ 季札 ⋯⋯ 師襄 ⋯⋯ 仲尼

Q3: People with sharp ears and bright eyes 鍾子, 矇瞽, 離婁

Q4: Sayings and records in the past 前言往記, 皆爲棄物

Q5: Person with well-tuned and balanced mind would not confuse joy and sorrow 今平和 之人 ⋯⋯ 聽靜而心閑; 曲用每 殊, 則情隨之變

Q6: Music is constant in relation to emotions; only people with emotional preoccupation get the mismatch 音聲自當有一定之 哀樂; 偏重之情, 觸物而作

Q7: Solemn pieces of music such as Qi and Chu 蓋聞齊楚之 曲者, 惟覩其哀泣之容, 而未曾 見笑噱之貌

Q8: Confucius says: improving customs with music 仲尼有言, 移風易俗, 莫善於樂

Remarks

Confucian politics of music and emotion vs Daoist musical discourse of no constancy A2: Music has no constancy 聲音之無常 Confucian sage vs A sad and joyful person can react Daoist critical mind differently to the same music 心哀者 ⋯⋯ 情歡者 Criticism of receptive attitude toward socially crafted tales of ancient times A3: Former King’s music 先王之至樂 is Gifted people discern the correct link between performed by musicians, not by former music and emotion kings Music has a natural harmony 音聲有自 vs Composed music and 然之和 played music are not the same A4: Various factors considered: Different Trust in traditional species, different language, and distance literature vs between Jin and Chu Inquisitive mind and meticulous skepticism Harmonious person will A5: Master and Teacher metaphor respond to music 人情不同, 各師所解 ⋯⋯ 有主於內, appropriately 不爲平和 vs “blowing differently” 吹萬不同 Each has own master “pinghe is the essence of music but it and teacher inside moves people in different ways” 聲音以 平和爲體, 而感物無常 A6: If the sound corresponds to a certain Problematic only when prejudiced feelings are emotion, pleasant music should not piled up increase sadness 卽如所言, 聲有定分 vs ⋯⋯ 樂非增哀之具也 the state of being moved by harmony 和 No constancy either in music or in emotion 之所感 and of being released by one’s own teacher inside 莫不自發 A7: Self-attainment as a higher form of Refuting based on the empirical knowledge on joy 儛之不若向之自得 the tunes of Qi and Chu Seek for joy in the realm of selfas solemn music attainment 求樂於自得之域 vs They can also be joyful in the realm of self-attainment A8: The slogan “improving customs with Appeal to Confucius’ music” is a product of the decadent times authority vs 夫言移風易俗者, 必承衰弊之後也 Perfect man (至人) as Perfect man is emotionally unbounded Daoist sage and flexible toward music

Q1: Confucian music politics 治 A1: Music has no constancy 音聲之無常 世之音安以樂, 亡國之音哀以 harmonious sounds move people most 思。夫治亂在政, 而音聲應之 deeply 聲音和比, 感人之最深者 blowing differently 吹萬不同

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in answer six (A6) as follows: If a happy song should give joy, it cannot make a listener sad. In question seven (Q7), the Guest manages to refute that he has never seen the expression of laughter or a smile after listening to Qi or Chu music. However, he is no longer able to refute after hearing the Host’s explanation in answer seven (A7): The state of self-attainment without any emotional expression could be counted as utmost joy; therefore the fact that people who listen to Qi or Chu music have never laughed cannot prove that there is no joy in them. The Guest has tried to maintain the position that music has a constant relationship to emotions throughout the dialogue, but his argument is getting progressively weaker. He initially had a strong belief in what he read or heard from ancient Confucian literature, but his beliefs weakened and he began to argue on the basis of what he had really experienced. Even his claims based on empirical evidence were blocked by the Host every time, and he could not continue to dispute. As the dialogue continues, the Guest’s questions retreat, leaving only one. At last in question eight (Q8), the Guest asks whether the Host totally rejects the premise that music affects people: “Do you mean we have to throw away even the long-standing belief that music can change the way we live?” Therefore, in the eighth answer (A8), Xi Kang no longer has to explain the distance between music and emotion, and only speaks of his opinion on the saying “improving customs and bettering traditions.” In A8, Xi Kang discusses the intimacy between music and emotions, but that does not mean he accepts Confucian claims that certain styles of music can change current customs and traditions in the desirable direction. On the contrary, the Host assumes that the yearning for the ideal conditions of music and emotions has caused the slogan of “improving customs with music” in the era of devastation. Thus, instead of acknowledging the Confucian slogan as it is, he alters the expression into “completely achieved customs and traditions 風俗壹成,” which is the ideal state that people’s sincerity will be moved by words and their heart-minds moved by harmony,36 instead of naming music arbitrarily with their own shifting emotions and weighted customs. Thus, the “Perfect Man” (zhiren 至人), a Daoist sage, treats various kinds of music open-mindedly, even to the music of Zheng (zhengsheng 鄭聲) that people consider to be the most dangerous and decadent music,37 unlike a Confucian sage, allegedly with spirit-like insight, discerns what music has a positive effect on what emotions.38

 “誠動於言, 心感於和, 風俗壹成, 因而名之.” See Henricks 1983: 106.  A Daoist sage can fully appreciate, without being out of control, even the music of Zheng (zhengsheng 鄭聲): “若夫鄭聲是音聲之至妙, 妙音感人, 猶美色惑志, 耽槃荒酒, 易以喪業, 自非 至人, 孰能御之?” See Henricks 1983: 105. 38  The Guest uses the following expressions several times to say that Confucian sages have a special understanding and authority over music: “the skilled listeners and examiners 善聽察者,” “miraculously bright person 神明者,” “those with spirit-like insight and unique perception 神妙 獨見,” etc. 36 37

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5  Conclusion Xi Kang’s Shenglun has elevated Daoist philosophy of music to a new level. The essay starts with a deliberately provocative proposition of breaking the relationship between music and emotion, and leads to a careful argument for the interplay of music and emotion. Xi Kang’s meticulous argument about the multi-layered relationships between music and emotion demonstrates that Xuanxue thinkers are not simply denying emotion or music. Inheriting Zhuangzi’s philosophy of music and emotion, Xi Kang regards emotion as a synchronized complex rather than a simple episode,39 and music as a dynamic medium that continuously changes according to the times and circumstances rather than treasurable heritage of the ancient sage kings. Xi Kang’s aesthetics of musical emotion can be an advanced solution to the contemporary dilemma of music aesthetics. Since Eduard Hanslick’s40 rejection of music criticism in emotive terms and definition of music as “tonally moving form,” contemporary music aestheticians have been struggling with the question how to relate music and emotion: Theoretically, they should be distinguished; empirically, they seem still to be deeply connected. Xi Kang’s criticism of musical sentimentalism goes in another direction. Instead of simply dismissing emotions from musical discussions, he argues for the musical emotion uplifted from common feelings and the enhancement of sensitivity through music.

Bibliography Cai, Zhongde 蔡仲德. 1997. Commentarial Annotations and Research on the “Yueji” and “Shengwu Aile Lun” 「樂記」「聲無哀樂論」注譯與研究. Hongzhou: China National Academy of Fine Art. Chai, David. 2009. “Musical Naturalism in the Thought of Ji Kang.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 8.2: 151–171. Chai, David. 2017a. “Ji Kang on Nourishing Life.” Frontiers of Philosophy in China, 12.1: 38–53. Chai, David. 2017b. “Zhuangzi and Musical Apophasis.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 16.3: 355–370. Chan, Alan K.L. and Yuet Keung Lo, eds. 2010. Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chinn, Meilin. 2015. Listening into the Distance. PhD Dissertation, University of Hawaii.

 I believe this is the idea also shared by some contemporary researchers on emotions. Refer to Sakka and Juslin 2018: 864. “Emotions are relatively brief, intense, and rapidly changing reactions to potentially important events (subjective challenges or opportunities) in the external or internal environment—often of a social nature—which involve a number of subcomponents (cognitive changes, subjective feelings, expressive behavior and action tendencies) that are more or less ‘synchronized’ during an emotional episode.” 40  Eduard Hanslick (1825–1904) is a German Bohemian music critic who wrote a book entitled, On Musical Beauty, which is provocative and sensational. 39

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Chung, Yonghwan. 2014 “Aesthetical Implication of Emotion in Ji Kang’s Music Theory.” Journal of the Society of Philosophical Studies, 107: 27–64. Chung, Hye-yoon. 2013. “The Paradox of Musical Meaning.” The Korean Journal of Aesthetics, 73: 147–184. Criddle, Reed. 2007. “Rectifying Lasciviousness through Mystical Learning: An Exposition and Translation of Ruan Ji’s “Essay on Music”.” Asian Music, 38.2: 44–70. Dai, Mingyang 戴明揚. 2014. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on Ji Kang’s Works 嵇康 集校注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Egan, Ronald. 1997. “The Controversy over Music and ‘Sadness’ and Changing Conceptions of the Qin in Middle Period China.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 57.1: 5–66. Han, Geping 韓格平. 1997. Collected Annotations and Commentaries on the Poems of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Forest 竹林七賢詩文全集譯注. Changchun: Jilin Wenshi Chubanshe. Henricks, Robert. 1983. Philosophy and Argumentation in Third-Century China: The Essays of Hsi K’ang. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hutton, Eric, trans. 2014. Xunzi: The Complete Text. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Juslin, Patrik, Laszlo Harmat, and Tuomas Eerola. 2014. “What makes Music Emotionally Significant? Exploring the Underlying Mechanisms.” Psychology of Music, 42.4: 599–623. Kania, Andrew. 2014. “The Philosophy of Music.” Available online: http://plato.stanford.edu/ archives/spr2014/entries/music/ Knechtges, David and Taiping Chang, eds. 2014. Ancient and Early Medieval Chinese Literature: A Reference Guide, Part 2. Leiden: Brill. Middendorf, Ulrike. 2010. “The Sage without Emotion: Music, Mind, and Politics in Xi Kang” In Alan K.L. Chan and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, 135–172. Albany: State University of New York Press. Park, So Jeong. 2003. “Ji Kang and Ruan Ji in the Theory of Music.” Journal of Studies of Taoism and Culture [Dogyo Munhwa Yeongu], 18: 243–276. Park, So Jeong. 2013a. “Sound, Tone, and Music in Early China: The Philosophical Foundation of Chinese Sound Culture.” In Yolaine Escande, Vincent Shen, and Chenyang Li, eds. Inter-­ culturality and Philosophic Discourse, 271-290. New Castle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Park, So Jeong. 2013b. “Musical Thought in the Zhuangzi: A Criticism of the Confucian Discourse on Ritual and Music.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 12: 331–350. Park, So Jeong. 2016. “On Sound: Reconstructing a Zhuangzian Perspective of Music.” Humanities, 5.3: 1–11. Rošker, Jana S. 2014. “Ji Kang’s Essay “Music has in it Neither Grief nor Joy” and the Structure of Perception.” Philosophy East and West, 64.1: 109–122. Sakka, Laura and Patrik Juslin. 2018. “Emotional Reactions to Music in Depressed Individuals.” Psychology of Music, 46.6: 862–880. Owen, Stephen and Wendy Swartz. 2017. The Poetry of Ruan Ji and Xi Kang. Berlin: De Gruyter. Zhuang, Huihui 張蕙慧. 1997. Research into Ji Kang’s Musical Aesthetic Thought 嵇康音樂美學 思想探究. Taibei: Wenjin Press.

So Jeong Park is Associate Professor in the Department of Korean Philosophy, College of Confucian Studies and Eastern Philosophy, Sungkyunkwan University. Before moving to Korea, she taught Chinese philosophy at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore. Her primary research interests range from Korean philosophy to comparative philosophy. She has published widely in English, Chinese, and Korean.

Chapter 14

The Ontology of Change: Wang Bi’s Interpretation of the Yijing Tze Ki Hon

1  Introduction In the study of Xuanxue 玄學 in Wei-Jin China (220–420 CE), scholars generally follow two parameters set down by Tang Yongtong 湯用彤. The first is that Xuanxue was a “learning of what is deep and faraway 玄遠之學” examining what is behind and beyond the tangible objects of the phenomenal world (Tang 2005: 20).1 In what he called “a transition from cosmology to ontology,” he attributed the rise of Xuanxue to a paradigmatic change in Chinese philosophy, moving from the study of “tangible traces in the phenomenal world 有形之粗跡” of the Han period (206 BCE-220 CE) to the investigation of the invisible structure of human life of the Wei-Jin period (Tang 2005: 39).2 But recent studies have shown that the alleged transition from cosmology to ontology was not as abrupt and sharp as Tang described.3 In fact, the cosmology of the Han period was also a learning of “what is 1  Originally published in 1957, Tang’s work consists of seven groundbreaking articles in which he defined the characteristics of Xuanxue and the main features of Wang Bi’s commentaries on the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經). 2  In the West, we extend Tang’s argument by calling Xuanxue “Neo-Daoism.” According to WingTsit Chan, Xuanxue was Neo-Daoist not only because it was based on the interpretations of two Daoist texts, the Daodejing and Zhuangzi, but also because it was an attempt “to find reality beyond space and time” (Chan 1969: 316). In the same vein, Alan Chan suggests that Xuanxue scholars were Neo-Daoist because of their interest in “the perceived true meaning of Dao” that is beyond language and sensory perception (Chan 2009: 303). 3  Based on a close study of Zheng Xuan’s 鄭玄 (127–200 CE) Yijing commentary, Lin Zhongjun demonstrates that the cosmological studies at the end of the Eastern Han period already included a deep thinking of ontology. See Lin 2005, especially 121–138.

T. K. Hon (*) Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong Kong, Kowloon, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_14

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deep and faraway,” connecting the human realm to the cosmic realm, and the mundane everyday life to the ecological patterns.4 The second parameter that Tang set down is the process in the development of Xuanxue. He identified the beginning of Xuanxue with Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) and followed its progression to Guo Xiang 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE).5 By comparing Wang Bi with Guo Xiang, Tang marked two poles in the development of Xuanxue: The learning of nothingness (Guiwu lun 貴無論) of Wang Bi and the learning of somethingness (Chongyou lun 崇有論) of Guo Xiang (and Pei Wei 裴頠 before him).6 From a broad perspective, these two poles coincided nicely with a shift in the use of texts (the Daodejing 道德經 for the learning of nothingness, and the Zhuangzi 莊子 for the learning of somethingness), and a change in key terms (“that by which” [suoyi 所以] in Wang Bi and “the self-so” [ziran 自然] in Guo Xiang).7 In the last two decades, this Wang-Guo dichotomy has been a recurrent theme in many accounts of Xuanxue, retelling a story of gradual evolution from a discussion of universality and collectivity to a discussion of particularity and subjectivity.8 But recent studies have shown that Wang Bi did not just discuss nothingness; on the contrary, he stressed the co-dependence between nothingness and somethingness, the deep structure and its phenomenal manifestation.9 This chapter aims to question the above-mentioned two parameters of Xuanxue through a study of Wang Bi’s commentary on the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經). Wang’s commentary, the Zhouyi Zhu 周易注, was a landmark in interpreting the Classic. It was considered a model of the “meaning and principle” (yili 義理) school of Yijing commentary that transformed the Classic into a book of wisdom.10 Its august status was confirmed as early as the seventh century when it was included in the state-approved “True Meaning of the Changes of the Zhou Period” (Zhouyi Zhengyi 周易正義) edited by Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648 CE). Throughout the Tang (618–907) and Song (960–1126) dynasties, Wang Bi’s Yijing commentary was tested in civil service examinations and became the standard interpretation of the text.11 Yet, in the study of Xuanxue, more attention is paid to Wang Bi’s commentary on the Daodejing than his commentary on the Yijing, even though the Yijing

 See Loewe 1986: 649–725, 726–746. See also Xu 1976, especially 295–438.  See Tang 2005: 123–177. 6  See Alan Chan’s chapter in this Companion for more on Pei Wei’s “Chongyou lun.” 7  Yu Dunkang uses Tang Yongtong’s argument to discuss Wang Bi’s learning of nothingness. See Yu 2007. Similarly, Brook Ziporyn uses Tang’s arguments to discuss Guo Xiang’s learning of somethingness. See Ziporyn 2015: 397–423. 8  See, for instance, Tang 1983 and Liang 1996. 9  See, for instance, Wagner 2003. Even Yu Dunkang occasionally expresses doubt about the sharp distinction of the learning of nothingness and the learning of somethingness. See Yu 2007: 117–124. 10  The editors of the Siku Quanshu 四庫全書 specifically identified Wang Bi’s commentary as an exemplar of the “meaning and principle” school of Yijing commentary. See Siku Quanshu Zongmu Tiyao 四庫全書總目提要 1933, Yijing section, 2. 11  Zhu 1984: 338–390. 4 5

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was (along with the Daodejing and Zhuangzi) one of the “three texts of profundity” (sanxuan 三玄) in the Wei-Jin period.12 This chapter aims to redress this imbalance based on three perspectives. In the first section, I will compare Han dynasty scholars’ interpretation of the Yijing with Wang Bi’s. This comparison will demonstrate that the transition from the cosmology of the Han to the ontology of the Wei-Jin was not as sharp as Tang Yongtong suggests. Instead, the transition was more a shift in focus to cope with uncertainty and serendipity in human existence. In the second section, I will focus on Wang’s view on nothingness (wu 無) and somethingness (you 有)—the two concepts that are said to have set Wang Bi and Guo Xiang apart. Rather than discussing Wang’s understanding of these two concepts abstractly, I will explain it in terms of the Yijing hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids. This way, I hope, will illustrate the co-­dependency of nothingness and somethingness that Rudolf Wagner and Yu Dunkang have identified. In the third section, I will assess Wang Bi’s contribution to Xuanxue. I will argue that in Wang’s Yijing commentary, we see a clear framework for coping with human finitude, activating human agency, and managing the uncertainty and serendipity of human life. This framework incorporates a series of binary concepts—such as nothingness and somethingness, one (yi 一) and many (zhong 眾), substance (ben 本) and function (mo 末)—to highlight the possibilities for change in one’s life. These binary concepts are not meant to be contrasts or contradictions; rather, they are intended to be mutually dependent, jointly demarcating a field of action that exists between what is preconditioned and what is possible. If Xuanxue is indeed an ontology as Tang Yongtong suggests, it seeks to go beyond the structure of daily life—the conventions, norms, hierarchy, and power—to look for the potentialities for change. In this sense, the goal of Wang Bi’s ontology of change is to give hope to people who feel distressed and dispirited, reminding them of the hidden opportunity and untapped resources available to them.

2  Turning Fortune-Telling into a Philosophy Originally a manual of divination, the Yijing became a philosophical text when seven pieces of writing were added to it from the fifth to second centuries BCE. Divided into ten segments (i.e., the “Ten Wings”), the authors of these pieces used the 8 trigrams and 64 hexagrams—the original layer of the text—to discuss cosmic patterns, the relations between humanity and nature, and how to cope with human finitude.13

12  Wagner and Yu, the two leading scholars of Wang Bi’s philosophy, base their arguments on a close reading of Wang’s Daodejing commentary rather than his Yijing commentary. See Wagner 2003; Yu 2007. 13  The “Ten Wings” are: (1–2) Tuanzhuan 彖傳 (Commentary on the Judgements); (3–4) Xiangzhuan 象傳 (Commentary on the Images); (5) Wenyan 文言 (Words of the Text); (6–7) Xici 繫辭 (Appended Statements, also known as Dazhuan 大傳, [The Great Treatise]); (8) Shuogua 說 卦 (Explanation of the Trigrams); (9) Xugua 序卦 (Hexagrams in Sequence); (10) Zagua 雜卦 (Hexagrams in Irregular Order). For the transformation of the Yijing into a philosophical text, see Zhu 1984: 38–105.

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For instance, in the Xici 繫辭 (one of the Wings), the authors point out that in the oracles there were encouraging words such as “auspicious” (ji 吉) and “without blame” (wujiu 無咎), and stern warnings against “calamity” (xiong 匈), “blame” (jiu 咎), “regret” (hui 悔) and “remorse” (lin 吝).14 These contrasting prognostications highlight the harsh reality of human existence. In some incidents, the wind of luck is on our side; whatever we do seems to go well. But in other incidents, we are clearly out of luck: no matter how hard we try, we are doomed to failure. To support their argument, the Xici authors linked the popularity of divination to the political crisis when the mandate of heaven (tianming 天命)—the power to rule—was abruptly passed from the Shang family to that of the Zhou.15 To highlight the importance of divination in assuaging human fear, the Xici authors coined two terms— fear (you 憂) and anxiety (huan 患)—to describe the different states of human apprehension of uncertainty and fate.16 To further clarify what fear and anxiety mean, the Xici authors linked the popularity of divination to the epic battle between the last ruler of Shang (King Zhou 殷 紂王) and the first ruler of Zhou (King Wen 周文王): The time at which the Changes came to the fore was that in which the house of Yin [Shang] came to an end and the way of the house of Zhou arose, that is, the time when King Wen and the tyrant Zhou were pitted against each other. This is why the hexagram statements of the book so frequently warn against danger. He who is conscious of danger creates peace for himself, he who takes things lightly creates his own downfall.17

In the above, the Xici authors saw hexagrams as stern warnings against danger and downfall. In these warnings, hexagrams provoked fear by reminding readers—typically, those involved in government—of the disastrous consequences of bad decisions and reckless moves (such as the tyrant Zhou’s brutality that led to the downfall of the Shang). They also instilled anxiety by calling attention to the vulnerability of human beings and the randomness in human fate (such as the sudden fall of the Shang and the unexpected rise of the Zhou). Whether provoking fear or instilling anxiety, the effect of hexagram divination is the same. It forces readers to reflect on their arrogance, complacency and self-indulgence. It shocks them to look for ways to come to terms with contingency and serendipity. In the hexagrams, warnings against danger and downfall not only underscored the unpredictability of human life, but also directed attention to the dark side of human existence such as disease, deformation, degeneration, and death. Of the 64 hexagrams, four are especially clear in revealing the dark side of human existence: Gu 蟲 (Decay, hexagram 18), Daguo 大過 (Crossing of the Great, hexagram 28), Kui 睽 (Discordance, hexagram 38) and Jian 蹇 (Crippled, hexagram 39). Gu, for instance, suggests disease because the Chinese character for gu 蠱 is a picture of a bowl (皿) containing worms (蟲), probably a result of rotten food. Daguo

 Xici 1: chapters 3 and 8. For a translation, see Wilhelm and Baynes 1967: 290–293, 304–308.  Xici 2: chapter 7. For a translation, see Wilhelm and Baynes 1967: 345–348. 16  For the significance of fear and anxiety in the Yijing philosophy, see Redmond and Hon 2014: 128–139. 17  Xici 2: chapter 11. Wilhelm and Baynes 1967: 352; translation modified. 14 15

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suggests a crumbling building because its hexagram image looks like a damaged structure with a weakened foundation (the Yin 陰 line at the bottom) and an unprotected roof (the Yin line at the top). Kui evokes an image of discordance because “two women of opposing views” (the Yin line in the third position and the Yin line in the fifth position) are placed in the same location. Jian describes a situation where one should abandon a planned journey after seeing signs of danger. Together these four hexagrams focus readers’ attention on the devastating impact of disease (Gu), deformation (Daguo), discord (Kui), and obstacle (Jian) that no one can predict or prevent.18 For the Xici authors, it did not matter whether danger and downfall happened in the political realm or in one’s body. The truth of the matter is that human beings have little control over their fate. At the same time, the Xici authors also sought to console nervous readers, assuring them that if they learnt to read the hexagrams properly, they will discern the pattern behind incessant changes. ­ They write: The Changes is a book from which one may not hold aloof. Its dao [i.e., pattern] is forever changing—alternating, movement without rest, flowing through the six empty places [of a hexagram]; rising and sinking without fixed laws, firm and yielding transforming each other. They cannot be confined within a rule; it is only change that is at work here. They move inward and outward according to fixed rhythms. Without and within, they teach caution. They also show care and sorrow and their causes. Though you have no teacher, approach them as you would your parents.19

Seen in this light, the 64 hexagrams are no longer oracles. They become symbols of the constant movements in the universe and the ceaseless changes in one’s life. More importantly, they point to the intricate networks of factors or forces—from near to distant, simple to complicated, visible to invisible—that shape movements and changes.

3  Yijing Commentaries in the Han Period During the Han dynasty, the Yijing exegetes continued to transform the Yijing into a philosophical text. They were particularly determined to overcome human finitude by turning the trigrams and hexagrams into systems of signs mimicking the recurrent patterns of the universe. Their goal was to merge the natural and human realms, such that the two became one and the same.20 Known as correlative cosmology, the purpose behind this fusion of the natural and human realms was to focus attention

 For a discussion of the Yijing warnings on disease and decay, see Redmond and Hon, 2014: 128–139. 19  Xici 2: chapter 7. Wilhelm and Baynes 1967: 348–349. 20  For the characteristics of Han thought, see Loewe 1994 and 2005; Wang 2000. 18

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on “the mutual responsiveness of heaven and humanity.”21 This mutual responsiveness of nature and humankind was based on two assumptions. First, the cosmos is orderly and stable. Its orderliness and stability are shown in the regular succession in time, such as the four seasons, the twelve months, the 365 ¼ days. Second, the same orderliness of the natural world is found in the human realm in the form of life cycles, the rhythm of work and rest, and the rise and fall of family fortunes. Despite the vicissitudes on the surface, the natural and human worlds are balanced, systematic and predictable. They are perfect mirrors of each other, such that when one moves, the other responds. The goal of correlative cosmology was not to develop a comprehensive understanding of the universe. Rather, it was to legitimize the transition “from the concept of imperial sovereignty based on might into the need to support a claim to rule with intellectual sanctions.”22 Thus, the emperor was said to be the crucial link between the natural and human realms. In fact, according to the Western Han scholar Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (ca. 195–105 BCE), the Chinese character for king (wang 王) reflected the solemn responsibility of the emperor (symbolized by the middle vertical stroke) for connecting the three potencies : heaven (tian 天), earth (di 地) and humankind (ren 人) (Redmond-Hon 2014: 159–61). As such, the emperor was indeed the Son of Heaven (tianzi 天子) who was omnicompetent, omnipotent and omniscient in managing an eternal empire.23 To support absolutism, Han dynasty commentators transformed the Yijing into a cosmological manual reflecting the ebb and flow of cosmic forces. They earnestly reorganized the hexagram sequence to match the cosmic rhythm, demonstrating that the natural and human realms are one and the same. For instance, Jing Fang 京房 (77–37 BCE) created the Hexagrams of Eight Palaces (ba gong gua 八宮卦): Qian 乾 , Kun 坤 , Zhen 震 , Xun 巽 , Kan 坎 , Li 離 , Gen 艮 , Dui 兌 . These eight palace hexagrams are the doubles of the eight trigrams. For Jing, each of these palace hexagrams leads a group of seven hexagrams. For example, Qian leads to , , , , , , . In this new alignment of hexagrams, there is both a steady increase or decrease of the Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 cosmic forces, and the hidden power of the two forces even when they are dormant.24 Another new sequence of hexagrams was the “waning and waxing hexagrams” (xiaoxi gua 消息卦) perfected by Yu Fan 虞翻 (164–233 CE). Representing the ebb and flow of the Yin and Yang cosmic forces, the “waning and waxing hexagrams” go as follows:

 See Queen 1996: 1–53.  See Loewe 1994: 121–141; Pines 2009 and 2012. 23  For more, see Loewe 2011; Queen 1996. 24  For the new sequence of 64 hexagrams based on eight palaces, see Nielson 2003: 3. 21 22

14  The Ontology of Change: Wang Bi’s Interpretation of the Yijing [24] → Lin 臨

Fu 復

夬

[43] → Qian 乾

Guan 觀

[20] → Bo 剝

[19] → Tai 泰 [1] → Gou 垢 [23] → Kun 坤

[11] → Dazhuang 大壯 [44] → Dun 遁

273 [34] → Guai

[33] → Pi 否

[12] →

[2] (back to Fu 復)

When reading from Fu to Qian, the Yang force gradually increases while the Yin force decreases. When reading from Gou to Kun, the Yin force increases while the Yang force decreases. As a system, the twelve hexagrams are continuous. When the series ends with Kun, it begins anew with Fu (Nielson 2003: 275–276). By developing these new hexagram sequences, the Han Yijing commentators wanted to achieve two goals. First, they freed themselves from the original sequence of the 64 hexagrams that was, to them, incoherent and inconsistent. Second, with the new sequences, Han commentators were better equipped to synchronize the hexagrams with the lunar calendar, showing a direct correspondence between the ebb and flow of cosmic forces and the cycles of life in human society.25 For instance, the “waning and waxing hexagrams” were assigned to represent months in the lunar calendar: Fu (the eleventh month), Lin (the twelfth month), Tai (the first month of the following year), Dazhuang (the second month), Guai (the third month), Qian (the fourth month), Gou (the fifth month), Dun (the sixth month), Pi (the seventh month), Guan (the eighth month), Bo (the ninth month), and Kun (the tenth month) (Nielson 2003: 275–276). The same could be done for the hexagram’s sequence based on the eight palaces. By matching the new sequence of the 64 hexagrams with 12 months, the Han commentators allotted eight months to four hexagrams and four months to eight hexagrams (Smith 2012; Nielson 2003: 5). By turning hexagrams into symbols to match the lunar calendar, the Han commentators suppressed fear by focusing attention on the repeated rhythm of the universe, as evidenced by the seasonal changes and the passage of time from month to month. They also externalized fear by concentrating on the grand scheme of the universe’s renewal that did not seem to give room to uncertainty or rupture. More importantly, by matching the cosmic realm with the human rhythm, they created an illusion that the Yijing was a ruler’s playbook to fathom the cosmos and order the world.26

4  A New Notion of Change The fall of the Han dynasty revealed a fundamental problem of correlative cosmology, namely, human beings are incapable of fully discerning cosmic patterns, nor can they completely apply cosmic patterns to human affairs. Even if they tried to 25 26

 For more, see Smith 2008: 62–77.  See Ch’en 1986: 798–801; Smith 2008: 62–88, 2012.

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mimic the cosmic rhythm in governing the human world, the human world is far too complicated for anyone to handle. Born six years after the collapse of the Han, Wang Bi was thrown into a situation in which there seemed to be few certainties in life. With China divided into three separate kingdoms—Wei 魏, Shu 蜀, and Wu 吴—there was widespread disorder in the country. When everything was in ruin, fewer and fewer people followed the Confucian precepts of honesty, loyalty and filial piety. Instead, trickery, usurpation, and pragmatic calculation became the accepted strategies for survival.27 Apparently, Wang Bi’s experience after the collapse of the Han brought him face to face with fear and anxiety—the two recurrent themes in the Yijing. As a result, his reading of the text focused heavily on the contingency and serendipity of life, highlighting the danger and randomness in human existence. At the same time, he saw contingency and serendipity as a vital source, giving people the opportunity to turn things around.28 Attached to his Zhouyi Zhu were seven essays in which he discussed how to read the Classic. In these essays, collectively known as “General Remarks on the Changes of the Zhou” (Zhouyi Lüeli 周易略例), he revisited themes that had been discussed in the Xici, including what a hexagram symbolizes and what the six lines of a hexagram tell us about human existence. In these essays, he presented a notion of change that was completely new.29 First and foremost, unlike the Han commentators, Wang Bi did not consider the hexagram sequence to be important. Instead, he regarded each of the 64 hexagrams as a discrete situation. In his essay, “Clarifying the Judgements” (Ming Tuan 明彖), he points out that the uniqueness of each hexagram is succinctly summarized in its tuan 彖 (Judgement Commentary). Hence, from reading the judgement commentary which summarizes the 64 hexagrams, a reader will find Zhun 屯 (Difficulty at the Beginning, hexagram 3) discussing the difficulty when someone starts an endeavor, Meng 蒙 (Youthful Folly, hexagram 4) discussing how a teacher hones his or her skills in teaching; Xu 需 (Waiting, hexagram 5) discussing a pause to reflect on one’s precarious situation, and so forth (Lynn 1994: 25–27). As such, readers do not have to strictly follow the hexagram sequence in reading the hexagrams. Instead, they can pick and choose any hexagram that speaks to them, actively injecting their life experience into reading the Yijing. In another essay “Clarifying the Images” (Ming Xiang 明象), Wang Bi explains why he wants to change the way of reading the Yijing. He writes: Images are the means to express ideas. Words are the means to explain the images. To yield up ideas completely, there is nothing better than the images, and to yield up the meaning of images, there is nothing better than words. The words are generated by the images, thus one can ponder the words and so observe what the images are. The images are generated by ideas, thus one can ponder the images and so observe what the ideas are. The ideas are

 For a biography of Wang Bi, see Lynn 2015: 369–95; Lynn 1994: 10–15.  For more, see Hon 2010: 71–96. 29  These seven essays can be found in Lynn 1994: 25–39. 27 28

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yielded up completely by the images, and the images are made explicit by the words. Thus, since the words are the means to explain the images, once one gets the images, he forgets the words, and since the images are the means to allow us to concentrate on the ideas, once one gets the ideas, he forgets the images (Lynn 1994: 31).

夫象者, 出意者也。言者, 明象者也。盡意莫若象, 盡象莫若言。言生於象, 故可 尋言以觀象; 象生於意, 故可尋象以觀意。意以象盡, 象以言著。故言者所以明 象, 得象而忘言; 象者, 所以存意, 得意而忘象 (Lou 1999: 609).

Here, Wang Bi is criticizing the Han exegetes for believing a direct correspondence exists between symbols and reality, words and referents. For him, the Han exegetes are doomed to failure in using the 64 hexagrams to match the unfolding of the universe. Given the scope and scale of the universe, whatever system of knowledge that the Han exegetes create will not be able to include all the animate and inanimate beings, nor can it capture the fluidity and diversity in the constant transformation in the universe. Furthermore, the repeated patterns that the Han exegetes identify are merely what human beings observe or experience; they are not the “real cosmic patterns” that the universe follows, as the frequent appearance of anomalies, calamities, disasters, and unexplained events demonstrate. For this reason, Wang Bi suggested that “once one gets the images, he forgets the words 得象在忘言” and “once one gets the ideas, he forgets the images 得意而忘象.” In the latter part of the essay, Wang borrows the Zhuangzi metaphors of “rabbit snares” (ti 蹄) and “fish trap” (quan 筌) to underscore the need to look at reality without being distracted by words or images. He writes: Similarly, the rabbit snare exists for the sake for the rabbit; once one gets the rabbit, he forgets the snare. And the fish trap exists for the sake of fish; once one gets the fish, he gets the trap. If this is so, then the words are snares for the images, and the images are traps for the ideas (Lynn 1994: 31).

猶蹄者所以在兔, 得兔而忘蹄; 筌者所以在魚, 得魚而忘筌也。然則, 言者, 象之蹄 也; 象者, 意之筌也 (Lou 1999: 609).

For Wang Bi, “images” (xiang 象) are traps because they give us a false sense of reality, confusing a representation of reality with the reality itself. Particularly in the Han period, the Yijing exegetes deployed the hexagrams to depict the rise and fall Yin and Yang forces, as if the sequence of hexagrams could accurately map the unfolding of the universe. In a sarcastic tone, Wang questions the effectiveness of using the hexagrams to mimic the cosmic patterns. He writes: “If the lines really do fit with the idea of compliance, why is it necessarily that Kun 坤 [Pure Yin, hexagram 2] represent only the cow; and if its concept really corresponds to the idea of dynamism, why is it necessary that Qian 乾 [Pure Yang, hexagram 1] represent only the horse?” (Lynn 1994: 32). Worse still, when the matching of hexagrams with the unfolding of the universe did not work, the Han exegetes created even more ­methods, such as “overlapping trigrams” and “trigram change,” to make the correspondence look tenable (Lynn 1994: 32). For Wang Bi, when more of these methods are ­created, more gaps and exceptions will appear in human systems of knowledge, showing their falsity and inadequacy.

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5  Hexagrams as Fields of Actions Wang Bi’s goal in critiquing the Han exegetes was to put forward a new method of reading the Yijing. Rather than creating a system of human knowledge that matched the vast scope and scale of the universe, Wang suggested that we should accept the limit of our knowledge—namely, we only know what we can know. We know that the universe is a totality, but we can only apprehend its grand unity in our daily life and through our surroundings. Because of our finitude, we should see hexagrams as symbols helping us to link with the universe. They are pointers, in the form of temporal-spatial grids, that reveal the totality of the universe in the concrete situation of our life. As such, whichever hexagram is picked, it will provoke a conversation between the symbol and the reader, allowing the reader to see the field of action in front of him. In the essay “Clarifying the Judgments,” Wang explains the importance of taking hexagrams as symbols of relationships in daily life: No thing ever behaves haphazardly but necessarily follows its own principle. To unite things, there is a fundamental regulator; to integrate them, there is a primordial generator. Therefore, things are complex but not chaotic, multitudinous but not confused. This is why when the six lines of a hexagram intermingle, one can pick out of them and use it to clarify what is happening, and as the hard ones and the soft ones supersede one another, one can establish which one is the master and use it to determine how all are ordered. This is why for mixed matters the calculation of the virtues and the determination of the rights and wrongs involved could never be complete without the middle lines (Lynn 1994: 25).

物無妄然, 必由其理。統之有宗, 會之有元, 故繁而不亂, 眾而不惑。故六爻相錯, 可舉一以明也; 剛柔相乘, 可立主以定也。是故雜物撰德, 辯是與非, 則非其中爻 (Lou 1999: 591).

Here, Wang Bi deploys a series of metaphors—principle (li 理), fundamental regulator (zong 宗), and primordial generator (yuan 元)—to emphasize the importance of looking at our life as part of a totality. But unlike the Han exegetes, Wang refuses to externalize the human fear of contingency and serendipity to the imagined persistent patterns in the universe. Nor does he suppress the human anxiety about uncertainty and randomness by highlighting the repeated cycles in the natural and human worlds. Instead, he wants us to come to terms with contingency and fate in our everyday life. To achieve this goal, he asks us to see a hexagram as a tempo-spatial grid elucidating complex networks—familial, social, political, and so on—that make us who we are. As temporal-spatial grids, hexagrams can be read in two ways. Reading from the bottom to the top, the six lines of a hexagram symbolize a temporal scheme in which an event unfolds from beginning to end. In this temporal progression, there is one dominant line that shapes the development. Reading as pairs of resonance and correspondence, a hexagram is a spatial structure of groups of lines—such as the bottom line pairing with the fourth line, the second line pairing with the fifth line, and the third line pairing with the top line. The alliances among the six hexagram lines can also be based on Yin and Yang, such that a Yang line seeks for a Yin line,

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and a Yin line seeks for a Yang line, regardless of their positions. But for Wang Bi, the two middle lines of a hexagram—the third and fourth lines—are always enigmatic in “calculating” (zhuan 撰) the gains and losses. They are enigmatic because of their positions: the third line of the hexagram is at the top of the lower trigram, and the fourth line is the beginning of the lower trigram. Together, they represent the critical transition from the lower trigram to the upper trigram, or “it is beneficial to cross the big river 利涉大川” in Yijing parlance. Because a hexagram is determined by the temporal-spatial alliances of its six lines, how the lines interact is crucial. In “Clarifying How the Lines are Commensurate with Change” (Ming Yao Tong Bian 明爻通變), Wang Bi writes: What are the hexagram lines? They address the states of change. What is change? It is what is brought about by the interaction of the inner tendency of things and their counter tendencies to spuriousness. The actions of this tendency to spuriousness are not to be sought in numbers. Thus, when something that tends to coalescence would disperse, or when something that tends to contraction would expand, this runs counter to the true substance involved. In form, a thing might seem inclined to agitation yet wants to be still, or a material, though soft still craves to be hard. Here, substance and its innate tendency are in opposition, and material and its inclination are in contradiction (Lynn 1994: 27).

夫爻者, 何也?言乎變者也。變者何也?情偽之所為也。夫情偽之動, 非數之所 求也; 故合散屈伸, 與體相乖。形躁好靜, 質柔愛剛。體與情反, 質與願違 (Lou 1999: 597).

For Wang Bi, the interaction of the six lines symbolizes the complexity of our existence. In real life, things do not happen in a straight-forward manner. Instead, they happen in seemingly contradictory fashion. Thus, the purpose of reading a hexagram—even a bad one like Gu 蠱 (Decay, hexagram 18)—is a mental exercise of finding options in responding to a situation. We realize that we are preconditioned as shown in the web of relations represented in a hexagram. At the same time, we know that we have opportunity and resources as shown in the configuration of the six lines. To help his readers, Wang Bi explains how to use the hexagrams to find opportunity in “Clarifying How the Hexagrams Correspond to Change and Make the Lines Commensurate with It” (Ming Gua Shi Bian Tong Yao 明卦適變通爻). He writes: The hexagrams deal with moments of time, and the lines are concerned with states of change appropriate to those times. Moments of time entail obstruction or facility, thus the application [of a given hexagram] is either a matter of action or of withdrawal (Lynn 1994: 29).

夫卦者, 時也; 爻者, 適時之變者也。夫時有否泰, 故用有行藏 (Lou 1999: 604).

For Wang Bi, hexagrams and hexagram lines are pointers, but they point to different things. Symbolizing the whole, a hexagram represents a web of relationships governing the actions of players. Symbolizing the parts, hexagram lines represent the choices that each player can make in advancing his or her interests. In the former, we see the invisible relationship that undergirds the choices and actions of the

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six players. In the latter, we see the visible and tangible actions, such as advance and withdraw, gain and loss. And yet, the visible and invisible, parts and wholes, are mutually dependent. With the different functions of hexagrams and hexagram lines in mind, we can understand why Wang Bi stresses the mutual dependency of somethingness and nothingness in his commentary on Xici 1.9 as preserved by Han Kangbo 韓康伯 (332–380  CE). Originally a passage about divination, Xici 1.9 discusses how to select a hexagram by counting 50 yarrow stalks. Known as “the number of Great Expansion 大衍之數,” the selection begins with the diviner separating the 50 yarrow stalks into two piles: (a) a group of 49 stalks that will be used to select a hexagram, and (b) an unused stalk that will be set aside in the rest of the divination procedure.30 Wang Bi views the group of 49 stalks as somethingness and the unused stalk as nothingness. He writes: After expanding the numbers of heaven and earth, we find that the ones that are of benefit to us number fifty, and of these we actually use forty-nine, thus leaving one unused. Although this one is not used, yet through it the use of the other numbers becomes readily possible, and although this one is not one of the numbers, yet through it the other numbers are formed. As this one represents the supreme ultimate of change, the other forty-nine constitute the ultimate of numbers. Nothingness cannot be brought to light by means of nothingness but must take place through somethingness. Therefore, by applying ourselves constantly to this ultimate among things that have somethingness, we shall surely bring to light the primogenitor from which all things derive (Lynn 1994: 60–61; translation modified).

演天地之數, 所賴者五十也。其用四十有九, 則其一不用也。不用而用以之通, 非數而數以之成, 斯易之太極也。四十有九, 數之極也。夫無不可以無明, 必因 於有, 故常於有物之極, 而必明其所由之宗也 (Lou 1999: 547–548).

In his comments, Wang Bi uses divination to prove the co-dependence of somethingness and nothingness. He argues that somethingness depends on nothingness because the forty-nine yarrow stalks become useful only when they are utilized in casting a hexagram. Conversely, nothingness cannot fulfil itself without somethingness because there is no way to perform a divination without the 49 yarrow stalks. Representing the practice of divination, nothingness gives the purpose, the unity, and the coherence to the act of throwing of the 49 yarrow stalks. Representing the actual steps of casting a hexagram by throwing the yarrow stalks, somethingness makes divination possible. An analogy would be a performance of Beethoven’s fifth symphony. As members of the audience, we see musicians playing notes under the baton of a conductor. As listeners, we hear Beethoven’s music that is invisible and ineffable yet transcends everything that happens on stage. Here, the key point is the mutual dependency of the tangible and intangible, what we see and what we hear. Without Beethoven’s music (a structure of notes), there would not have been a performance of the fifth symphony. Conversely, without a performance by an orchestra in front of an audience, Beethoven’s scores remain scribbles on paper—a potentiality that is untapped and unrealized.

30

 For a translation of this Xici passage, see Wilhelm and Baynes 1967: 310–313.

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6  The Ontology of Change Wang Bi argues that precisely in this juncture that exists between what is already configured (the hexagram) and what can be changed (the six lines of a hexagram), we see the fluidity of human affairs and the possibilities of change. With proper action, one can turn what appears to be a failure into a blessing. Conversely, lacking appropriate action, one can make what appears to be flourishing into a disaster. For this reason, Wang Bi does not find the inauspicious hexagram Sun 損 (Diminution, hexagram 41) terribly frightening (Lynn 1994: 387–396). Judging from its hexagram image and line statements, Sun suggests a situation where those who are high up take advantage of those who are in lower positions, or those who are physically strong victimize those who are weak. Yet, despite the injustice denoted in the hexagram, Wang Bi believes there is still room for optimism. “Supreme good fortune” will come, he declares, if someone finds ways to benefit the public. Similarly, the “oppressions” in hexagram Kun 困 (Impasse, hexagram 47) are avoidable. Judging from its line statements, Kun is hopeless. All of its six lines are plagued with some form of oppression: the first line is buried under a barren tree, the second line is burdened with excessive drinking and eating, the third line is caught in rocks, the fourth line is locked in a golden carriage, the fifth line is bullied by a man with purple knee bands, and the sixth line is wrapped by creeping vines. Yet Wang Bi argues that by making the right decision one can reverse what seems to be an oppressive situation into an opportunity for growth and advancement (Lynn 1994: 428–437). It is from this perspective that Wang Bi finds special value in the Yijing. For him, the 64 hexagrams and their 384 hexagram lines are the concrete embodiments and manifestations of changes. By thinking through the hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids, we are able to reflect on three things: (a) our situation in a moment in time (shi 時), (b) our position in that situation (wei 位), and (c) the range of possibilities to respond to that situation (ying 應).31 This special value in the Yijing is clearly spelt out in Wang’s commentary on Qian 乾 (Pure Yang, hexagram 1). The line statements depict the six Yang lines as a dragon in various positions—a “hidden dragon” (qian long 潛龍) in line one at the bottom, an “emerging dragon” (xiang long 現龍) in line two, a “wavering dragon” (houyue zaiyuan 或躍在淵) in line four, a “flying dragon” (fei long 飛龍) in line five, and an “arrogant dragon” (kang long 亢龍) in line six at the top. In addition, the line statements suggest a correspondence between the dragon’s position and a proper course of action: the hidden dragon should avoid taking aggressive action, the emerging and flying dragons should seek help from “a great man,” the wavering dragon should take flight over the depths despite the danger and apparent risks, and the arrogant dragon will regret being stubborn and excessively confident.

 These three themes of shi (time), wei (position), and ying (response) are found in “clarifying how the hexagrams correspond to change and make the lines commensurate with it.” See Lynn 1994: 29–30.

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As a temporal-spatial grid, however, Qian is ambiguous. On the one hand, in five of its six lines, the tone seems to be upbeat, projecting an impression of an incessant progress from a hidden dragon to an emerging dragon, a wavering dragon, and finally, a flying dragon. On the other hand, the progression is abruptly cut short by the downfall of the arrogant dragon. Like a Greek tragedy, the rapid fall of the arrogant dragon suggests hubris, highlighting the danger of excessive human pride in making strenuous efforts to pull oneself up. In his commentary, Wang Bi does not focus on the temporal progress or dark tone of the hexagram. Instead, he emphasizes the importance of using the six dragons creatively and proactively to response to the challenges of life. The place where Wang states his view is in his comments on a statement from the Commentary on the Judgements which says: “When it is the moment for it, ride one of the six dragons 時乘六龍.” To explain this statement, Wang writes: This is manifestly evident in its Dao from beginning to end. Thus, each of the six positions forms without ever missing its moment, its ascent or descent is not subject to fixed rule, and it functions according to the moment involved. If one is to remain in repose, ride a hidden dragon; if one is to set forth, ride a flying dragon. This is why it is said: “When it is the moment for it, ride one of the six dragons” (Lynn 1994: 129).

大明乎終始之道, 故六位不失其時而成。升降无長, 隨時而用。處則乘潛龍, 出 則乘飛龍, 故曰時乘六龍也 (Lou 1999: 213).

Here, Wang Bi suggests we see the six lines of Qian as constantly changing their positions. Even if one strictly follows the incremental progress from a hidden dragon (the first line) to an emerging dragon (the second line) to a flying dragon (the fifth line), upon reaching the top (an arrogant dragon), one must go back down to a hidden dragon and start all over again. Since the six lines of Qian represent a cycle rather than linear progression, Wang suggests readers choose a dragon most suitable to them so as to assume the position of a hidden dragon when starting a new business or beginning a new career, to act like an emerging dragon after receiving recognition from peers or bosses, to be like a wavering dragon when making a crucial transition in career or location, to be like a flying dragon when everything seems to be flourishing, and last but not least, to avoid becoming an arrogant dragon when everything looks perfect but a decline is imminent. In short, Wang Bi urges us to view Qian metaphorically as a spatial-temporal grid to reflect on our surroundings, look for alternatives, and above all, anticipate dangers and pitfalls. As such, Qian becomes a symbol of the ever-changing world. It is particularly helpful when we are at a critical juncture of our lives. At that moment—one may say, the Yijing moment—we feel especially vulnerable and fragile, because we are reminded of the confluence of factors and the complicated web of relationships that shape our lives. Still, we must make decisions and act swiftly to improve our situation, daring to face the complexity of life that is beyond our understanding and our control. Once we ride the six dragons according to the needs of the time, we become an active player in our daily life. We may be a hidden dragon or an arrogant dragon when we enter the great flow of human existence, but as we are swept along by the current, we should find our position, rhythm, and trajectory. In the end, the key point is not when and how we enter the great flow of human existence, but what we become and achieve after we join it.

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7  In Search of an Optimum Balance For Wang Bi, the goal of joining the great flow of human existence is to find an optimum balance in every step of our life. Of the 64 hexagrams, there is no better hexagram that embodies this pursuit of optimum balance than Weiji 未濟 (Ferrying Incomplete, hexagram 64). Being the last hexagram of the Yijing, a question that many readers would ask is what is to be done next? Shall we put aside the Yijing, or shall we continue reading it by going back to the first hexagram? Is reading the Yijing a once-in-a-lifetime event, or is it a process that needs to be repeated regularly? There is an additional question: Why does Weiji follow Jiji 既濟 (Ferrying Complete, hexagram 63) and not the other way around? If completing the task at hand is the key issue in the Yijing, then Jiji should be placed after Weiji. With Jiji as the ending, it would give the Classic closure and an optimistic tone. It would suggest that if not now, then in the distant future, all the problems of this world are going to be resolved. With Weiji as the ending, however, the Yijing becomes open-­ ended. As the complete act of ferrying in Jiji turns into an incomplete act in Weiji, the Yijing seems to suggest that there is no perfection on earth. What is at one point a perfect state will quickly become imperfect at another moment. In Wang Bi’s commentary, he first relates Jiji to Weiji by quoting a line from the Commentary on the Images (Xiang 象, one of the “Ten Wings”). The original statement runs as follows: Water positioned above Fire: this constitutes the image of Ferrying Complete. In the same way, the noble man ponders the threat of calamity and takes steps beforehand to prevent it (Lynn 1994: 539).

象曰:水在火上, 既濟。君子以思患而豫防也 (Lou 1999: 526).

Wang Bi’s comment explains why the noble man must think of misfortune ahead of time: He who survives should not forget about the threat of perishing, and he who enjoys a time of Ferrying Complete should not forget the threat of Ferrying Incomplete [hexagram 64] (Lynn 1994: 539).

存不忘亡, 既濟不忘未濟也 (Lou 1999: 526).

By skillfully evoking their hexagram names—Ferrying Complete (Jiji) and Ferrying Incomplete (Weiji)—Wang Bi demonstrates the inter-relationship between the two hexagrams. He argues that the two hexagrams are inseparable in the mind of the noble man, who always plans ahead and expects what is still in the making. For Wang, the state of completion means preparing for incompletion to come. This is not to say that the noble man is over-worried. The wisdom of the man in planning ahead of time lies in his realization that everything in this world is constantly in flux. Since both objective reality and the subjective human condition are perpetually shifting, the moment of their harmonious integration is always transient. When either one of them changes, or worse still, both of them change, the whole equilibrium is upset, and the process of searching for a new equilibrium has to begin anew. It is from this perspective that Wang Bi finds the Commentary on the Images revealing.

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This theme of humanity in constant search for equilibrium with its surroundings is carried further in Wang Bi’s comment on the line statement of top Yin line of Jiji—“This one gets his head wet, which means danger.” He writes: Top Yin is located at the very end of Ferrying Complete. As the Dao of Ferrying Complete has petered out, one here proceeds into Ferrying Incomplete. As one here proceeds into Ferrying Incomplete, his head is the first to violate the bounds [of Ferrying Complete]. He does not stop but advances too far, so he encounters trouble and danger. Thus, the text says: “This one get his head wet.” It will not be long before he drowns, and there is no greater danger than that (Lynn 1994: 542).

處既濟之極, 既濟道窮, 則之於未濟, 之於未濟, 則首先犯焉。過進不已, 則遇於 難, 故濡其首也。將沒不久, 危莫先焉 (Lou 1999: 528).

In this comment, Wang expands on the inter-relationship between Jiji and Weiji. On the surface, Jiji and Weiji are indeed two totally different states: one is completion and the other incompletion. But at a deeper level, the two states are actually two poles of the same continuum. When one reaches the end of completion, one arrives at the beginning of incompletion. This continuum calls our attention to our constant quest for equilibrium with our surroundings. More importantly, this continuum is moving circularly, not only from completion to incompletion, but also from incompletion to completion. Because of this, Wang Bi cautions his readers that Weiji should be understood both negatively as incompletion and positively as the potential for completion. In explaining the Commentary on the Judgement of Weiji—“Although [the six lines] are not in their rightful positions, the hard and strong and the soft and weak all form resonate relationships”—Wang writes: It is because the lines are all out of position that Ferrying Incomplete occurs. However, the hard and strong and the soft and weak all form resonate relationships, thus Ferrying becomes possible (Lynn 1994: 545–546).

位不當, 故未濟, 剛柔應, 故可濟 (Lou 1999: 531).

In this comment, Wang employs the hexagram image of Weiji to explain its dual meanings. On the one hand, judging from its hexagram line positions, Weiji is in a dreadful condition: its Yang positions (first, third, and fifth) are occupied by Yin lines, and its Yin positions (second, fourth, and sixth) are occupied by Yang lines. Being in the wrong positions, all six lines cannot fully utilize their potential. At the same time, although all positions of Weiji are in the wrong order, the lines correspond with one another in terms of their Yin-Yang nature: the Yin lines at the first and third positions correspond respectively with the Yang lines at the fourth and sixth positions, and the Yang line at the second position corresponds with the Yin line at the fifth position. Because of the correspondence amongst the six lines, Weiji is full of vital potential. Once this vital potential is activated and realized, Weiji will be on its way to completion. In this sense, Weiji clearly symbolizes the “potential for completion” (keji 可濟). Once again, the driving force that will transform a dreadful Weiji (incompletion) into a more hopeful keji (the potentials for completion) is human agency.

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This realization of the potential for completion comes into fruition at the sixth line of Weiji, right at the point where Weiji turns into Jiji. Regarding this turning point, Wang Bi gives a detailed analysis in his comment on the top Yang line. The line statement says: This one has confidence and so engages in drinking wine, about which there is no blame, but he might get his head wet, for this one with his confidence could do violence to what is right (Lynn 1994: 547–548).

有孚于飲酒, 無咎。濡其首, 有孚, 失得 (Lou 1999: 533).

Wang’s commentary reads: Here at the very end of Ferrying Incomplete there is about to be a return to Ferrying Complete [hexagram 63]. The Dao of Ferrying Complete is such that positions are filled only with people proper to them. As positions are to be filled only with people proper to them, one can have confidence in his own chances without the least doubt. Thus, he can take his ease here (Lynn 1994: 550).

未濟之極, 則反於既濟。既濟之道, 所任者當也。所任者當, 則可信之无疑, 而己 逸焉 (Lou 1999: 533).

In this comment, Wang Bi tries to answer two questions regarding the turning of Weiji into Jiji. The first question is how this is possible? To answer the question, Wang expands a little further on his analysis of Weiji as the potential for completion. He argues that upon reaching its sixth line, Weiji has already redressed its problem of misplaced line positions. The six lines of Weiji are now so rearranged that they become Jiji. In Wang’s comment, this re-arrangement of line positions is referred to as “positions are filled only with people proper to them 所任者當也.” Perhaps even more revealing is Wang’s answer to the second question. The second question is: Why does the latter part of the line statement change abruptly into an ominous pronouncement? Wang answers: One is taking ease so much so that “he might get his head wet 濡其首.” In answering this question, Wang Bi reminds his readers of his initial position on how Jiji is related to Weiji: one should not forget incompletion when one is still in completion. Upon becoming Jiji, the sixth line of Weiji has to embark on its preparation for its downfall, as do the other lines of Jiji. The didacticism on moderation that Wang Bi puts forward at the end of his comment is to tell his readers that, upon reaching completion from incompletion, the other side of the circle from completion to incompletion begins anew. In short, the sixth line of Weiji has turned into the first line of Jiji. Instead of seeing the inconclusive ending of the Yijing as a pitfall, Wang Bi considers it profoundly meaningful. By remaining open-ended, he argues that the Yijing not only brings to our attention the fluidity and contingency of life, but also forces us to reflect upon our own precarious situations. By showing how completion and incompletion is a continuum through linking Jiji with Weiji, he reminds us that we are in the constant process of striving for an optimum balance between our surroundings and our subjective needs. As completion quickly becomes incompletion and vice versa, we must constantly reflect on our situations to come to terms with uncertainty and serendipity.

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8  Conclusion One may argue that Wang Bi’s reading of the hexagrams limits the Yijing to concrete human affairs. Unlike the Han dynasty commentators, Wang had little interest in cosmology and rejected any attempt to match the cosmic and human realms. But in seeing the hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids, Wang reminds us that the Yijing is meant to be read metaphorically. In focusing on the hexagrams as pointers— pointing toward something hidden, implicit, yet fundamental in time and space—he avoids the pitfall of the Han dynasty commentators who turned the Yijing into a copious system of signs to document the multifarious changes in the universe. For Wang Bi, the Han dynasty commentators’ attempt is futile because they do not accept the basic tenet of the Yijing—the limits of human knowledge. In returning to the root of the Yijing as symbols, Wang Bi directs readers’ attention to the metaphorical significance of the hexagrams. As pointers, hexagrams help readers develop a mental picture of their surroundings, allowing them to sort out the opportunities as well as the limitations in each given situation. Hexagrams also expand readers’ horizons by directing their attention from what is near to what is distant, from what is apparent to what is concealed. Above all, they give readers hope by showing the infinite possibilities of changing our lives if we pay careful attention to our surroundings.32 On this score, Wang Bi is right that the Yijing is insightful. It is insightful not only because it offers hope and encouragement in facing the challenges of life, but also because it stresses human agency and activism in coming to terms with uncertainty and serendipity. With a critical assessment of our surroundings through a reading of the hexagrams, we are empowered to turn what appears to be a failure into a blessing, or an impasse into a test of character. We live when we are ready to take charge of our lives.

Bibliography Chan, Alan K.L. 2009. “Neo-Daoism.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy, 303-323. London: Routledge. Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1969. Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ch’en, Ch’i-Yun. 1986. “Confucian, Legalist, and Daoist Thought in Later Han.” In Cambridge History of China, volume 1, 766-807. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hon, Tze-Ki. 2003. “Human Agency and Change: A Reading of Wang Bi’s Yijing Commentary.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 30.2: 223-242. Hon, Tze-Ki. 2010. “Hexagrams and Politics: Wang Bi’s Political Philosophy in the Zhouyi Zhu.” In Alan K.L. Chan and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, 71-96. Albany: State University of New York Press. Liang, Baoxuan 梁葆玹. 1996. A Study of the Learning of the Deep 玄學通論. Taipei: Wunan Tushu Chuban Gongsi. Lin, Zhongjun 林忠軍. 2005. A Study of Zheng Xuan’s Commentary on the Zhouyi 周易鄭氏學闡 釋. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Loewe, Michael. 1986. “The Religious and Intellectual Background” and “The Concept of Sovereignty.” In Denis Twitchett and Michael Loewe, eds., Cambridge History of China, volume 1, 649–725; 726–746. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 32

 For a detailed discussion of Wang Bi’s philosophy of change, see Hon 2003.

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Loewe, Michael. 1994. Divination, Mythology and Monarchy in Han China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Loewe, Michael. 2005. Faith, Myth and Reason in Han China. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. Loewe, Michael. 2011. Dong Zhongshu: A Confucian Heritage and the Chunqiu Fanlu. Leiden: Brill. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1994. The Classic of Changes: A New Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Lynn, Richard J. 2015. “Wang Bi and Xuanxue.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 365-395. Dordrecht: Springer. Nielsen, Bent. 2003. A Companion to Yijing Numerology and Cosmology. London: Routledge. Pines, Yuri. 2009. Envisioning Eternal Empire: Chinese Political Thought of the Warring States Era. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Pines, Yuri. 2012. The Everlasting Empire: The Political Culture of Ancient China and its Imperial Legacy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Queen, Sarah. 1996. From Chronicle to Canon: The Hermeneutics of the Spring and Autumn, According to Dong Zhongshu. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Redmond, Geoffrey and Tze-Ki Hon. 2014. Teaching the I Ching (Book of Changes). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Siku Quanshu. 1933. Summaries of the Entries of the Four Treasures of the Emperor 四庫全書總 目提要. Shanghai: Shangwu Yinshuguan. Smith, Richard. 2008. Fathoming the Cosmos and Ordering the World: The Yijing and its Evolution in China. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Smith, Richard. 2012. The I Ching: A Biography. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Tang, Yijie 湯一介. 1983. Learning the Deep of the Wei-Jin Period 魏晉玄學. Huanggang: Hubei Renmin Chubanshe. Tang, Yongtong 湯用彤. 2005. Preliminary Studies of Learning the Deep during the Wei-Jin Period 魏晉玄學論稿. Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe. Wagner, Rudolf. 2003. Language, Ontology, and Political Philosophy in China: Wang Bi’s Scholarly Exploration of the Dark. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wang, Aihe. 2000. Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilhelm, Richard and Cary Baynes, trans. 1967. The I Ching or Book of Changes. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Xu, Fuguan 徐復觀. 1976. The History of Thought of the Two Han Periods 兩漢思想史. Taibei: Taiwan Xuesheng Shuju. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康. 2007. New Research on He Yan and Wang Bi’s Philosophy 何晏王弼玄学 新探. Beijing: Fangzhi Chubanshe. Ziporyn, Brook. 2015. “Guo Xiang: The Self-So and the Repudiation-cum Reaffirmation of Deliberate Action and Knowledge.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 397-423. Dordrecht: Springer. Zhu, Bokun 朱伯崐. 1984. The History of Yijing Philosophy 易學哲學史. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Tze Ki Hon is Professor of Chinese and History at the City University of Hong Kong. Before moving to Hong Kong, he taught at Hanover College and the State University of New  York at Geneseo. Specializing in classical studies and intellectual history, he has authored four books and co-edited four collections of essays on topics covering the Yijing, Neo-Confucianism, the social and intellectual history of late Qing and Republican China, among others. His current research projects include the paradigm shifts in the Yijing commentaries, the philosophy of divination of Zhu Xi, and the modern transformation of the Yijng into a global classic.

Chapter 15

Language and Nothingness in Wang Bi Eric S. Nelson

1  Introduction The philosophy of Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE), who is also known by his courtesy name Fusi 輔嗣, survives in his commentaries on the Daodejing 道德經 (Laozi Zhu 老子注 and Laozi Zhilüe 老子指略) and the Yijing 易經 (Zhouyi Zhu 周易注 and Zhouyi Lüeli 周易略例), as well as in fragments from his commentary on the Analects 論語 (Lunyu Shiyi 論語釋疑).1 While Wang’s other works survive in fragments and in the reports of other scholars, his Daodejing and Yijing commentaries profoundly shaped the subsequent reception and art of interpreting these two texts. His interpretations were striking to his contemporaries and from the beginning controversial. Wang Bi’s commentaries have been recognized as pivotal in the history of Chinese philosophical discourses and yet, both the significance and coherence of his interpretations have been repeatedly contested in that history. In particular, orthodox Confucian (rujia 儒家) and—what is now described as—religious Daoist (daojiao 道教) sources have rejected the value of Wang’s contributions even as they adopted his terminology and strategies. Wang Bi’s name is frequently invoked, and the standard text of the Daodejing is credited to him despite its differences from his commentary. Yet his thought is comparatively underappreciated given the crucial role his “ontology” and systematic philosophical concepts—such as li 理, tiyong 體用, dongjing 動靜, and

1  See Lou 1999. This chapter primarily uses, and at times modifies, the translations of Lynn (1994, 1999). Other significant works on Wang Bi and the Daodejing in English include Chan 1991, and Wagner 2000, 2003b.

E. S. Nelson (*) School of Humanities & Social Sciences, Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Kowloon, Hong Kong © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_15

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benmo 本末—played in the formation of broader intellectual movements such as Sinicized Buddhism and Neo-Confucianism. Wang Bi has remained an ambiguous figure in modern and recent scholarship. It is disputed whether his syncretic thought should be considered primarily a form of Xuanxue—drawing on Lao-Zhuang 老莊, Huang-Lao 黃老 Daoist as well as Confucian and further discourses—or a variety of eclectic Confucianism. The contested category “Xuanxue” might be best thought of as a movement of thinkers who share overlapping resemblances in striving for the systematic reconstruction and transformation of the questions and strategies of earlier pre-Qin Daoist sources. To briefly consider a few examples of the contrasting descriptions of Wang Bi, classic modern accounts of the history of Chinese philosophy such as Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 and Herrlee Creel depict Wang as a neo-Daoist thinker committed to the preeminence of nothingness and reviving the Daodejing’s ontological aspirations (see Feng 1953; Creel 1982). Others such as Kristofer Schipper have maintained that “Wang Bi was not a Daoist” in emphasizing an ontology of non-being rather than the mystery religion of the Daodejing and Daoist religious traditions (Schipper 2000: 192–193). Ronnie Littlejohn contends that Wang is “a self-identified Confucian” who “wanted to create an understanding of Daoism that was consistent with Confucianism.”2 Alan Chan concluded in his classic study that Wang Bi was an independent thinker who shared some of Xuanxue’s tenets and radically diverged on others such as the role of the emotions in sagehood (Chan 1991: 35). The varied interpretations of Wang Bi in these discussions indicate three questions that will be addressed in this chapter: (1) How does Wang interpret the priority of Confucius as the image of the sage? (2) What are the roles of the emotions and emotional indifference in an appropriate model of sageliness? (3) How is it possible and what does it signify to speak about nothingness and its generativity?3 This chapter will also illustrate in outline how it is possible for Wang Bi to (1) give Confucius priority as a sage, (2) clarify the significance of the emotions in sageliness, and (3) articulate a fundamentally Daoist discourse of generative nothingness.

2  Wang Bi between Confucius and Laozi “Confucianism” and “Daoism” interpreted as doctrinal schools with definitive tenets are problematic categories for many if not all figures in the history of Chinese philosophy. Despite the claim that Wang Bi should be considered a Confucian who “fashionably” incorporated Daoist elements because of their historical importance after the crisis of Confucian orthodoxy during the post-Han dynasty period, it is clear that Wang did not consider the genuine teachings of Confucius and Laozi to be incompatible. The two sages are not, however, merely equivalent. Wang did not focus on the stated teachings of Confucius and is dismissive of his followers and he asymmetrically gave Confucius and Laozi different forms of precedence in his commentaries.

 See his Wang Bi entry for the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.  On the Daoist generative conception of nothingness, see Chai 2019.

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There are a number of reasons why it is justifiable to identify Wang Bi with Xuanxue and a Daoist way of interpreting Confucius as the primary figure of the sage. This reading is not implausible, given that there is a tradition evident in passages in the Zhuangzi 莊子, a text familiar to Wang, of adopting Confucius as a Daoist teacher.4 In the traditional Chinese setting, there are reasons to think this might be the case. First, there is an argument from traditional sources. Wang Bi and his teachers and readers are associated in the Chinese tradition by exponents and critics with movements such as “pure discussion” (qingtan 清談) and Xuanxue that flourished in the Three Kingdoms (sanguo 三國) period. Second, there is Wang’s critique of the Ru-ists (rujia 儒家) that exempts Confucius. Wang’s negative assessment of Confucianism as a school further indicates his strategy (Lynn 1999: 33–34). His praise of Confucius as the most perfect of sages does not rest on Confucian but Daoist grounds, as Wang offered a Laoist interpretation of Confucius as a teacher of nothingness. Third, there is the systematic role that nothingness and not speaking play in his commentaries. The surviving fragmentary remarks on the Analects do not focus on the spoken teachings but on the silence of Confucius, as a teacher of the nothing, and on how they reveal the incapacities of referential language to express the genuine way (zhendao 真道) of the genuine sage (sheng 聖).5 The second point is illuminating. Wang repeatedly criticized the Ru 儒 in his commentaries, identifying them with teaching “benevolent love” rather than the nothingness through silence that he ascribed to the figure of Confucius. Wang Bi described the Ru-ists in the following way in chapter 2 of the “Outline Introduction to the Laozi” (Laozi Zhilüe 老子指略) that established the priority of the Laozi in embracing the root and the mother in order to nourish and protect the branches and the child: The Ru-ists place high value on complete love and would encourage them to practice it through the use of praise … if one tries to encourage people [to practice “complete love”] through the use of praise, contention over who should be exalted will surely arise … when they discover references to complete love, they call it Ru-ist (Lynn 1999: 33-34).

儒者尚乎全愛, 而譽以進之 ⋯⋯ 譽以進物, 爭尚必起 ⋯⋯ 察其純愛, 則謂之儒 (Lou 1999: 196).

The Ru-ists are included in a description of five limited partial teachings, and their benevolence is described as a form of love that modern readers would better associate with Mohism that Wang Bi identified as the teaching of frugality and self-denial (Lynn 1999: 33–34). In contrast, the students of Laozi are also criticized for their confusion and perplexity about their source and its appropriate interpretation; yet they are not listed among the five flawed inadequate teachings. These five are contrasted with the Daodejing in being portrayed as having fundamentally lost their way. They are portrayed as degradations of the way adopting the Daodejing’s model of losing the way through limiting ethical virtues. It is lost by “using the child while

4  On the Zhuangzi’s treatment of Confucius, one of which appropriates him as a Daoist teacher, see Chong 2016. 5  On Wang’s commentary on the Analects, see Ashmore 2004.

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discarding the mother, which means that when the people lose their support [the mother], it [the child] cannot protect them 斯皆用其子而棄其母。物失所在, 未足 守也” (Lou 1999: 196; Lynn 1999: 34). The third point is Wang Bi’s distance from a Ru-ist interpretation of Confucius as a teacher of benevolence, a key Ru-ist concept that Wang critically associated with the decay of genuine life. Wang’s frequently discussed prioritization of Confucius as the ultimate paradigmatic figure of the sage cannot be an endorsement of the conventional Ru-ist paradigm that he rejected as fallen away from the genuine Dao. The primary portrayal of Wang’s idealization of Confucius does not occur in his own text. In the primary historical source concerning Wang’s life and work, He Shao 何劭 (ca. 236–302 CE) described in his biography of Wang, the Wang Bi Zhuan 王弼傳 (Chen 1975: 28.795–796), how the ten-year-old Wang already loved and comprehended the Daodejing (see Lynn 2015: 374). He Shao recounted the following conversation between the youthful Wang Bi and Pei Hui 裴徽, the leader of the Personnel Ministry. In this narrative, Pei asked why Laozi constantly spoke of nothingness (wu 無) and Confucius did not, given that nothingness is the source of the myriad things. Wang’s response was that Laozi operated on the level of beings (you 有) in discussing nothingness, and Confucius embodied it in his silence (Lynn 2015: 374). This story has been used to argue for Wang Bi’s preference for Confucius over Laozi. Nonetheless, it is interesting that He Shao’s portrayal initially privileges Wang’s commitment to the Daodejing (his love and knowledge of it) and then Confucius, as the primary silent sage of nothingness, in the public political arena signified by the minister. This idea should be further contextualized in Wang’s own commentaries. First, as evident in the fragments of his Analects commentary, Wang interpreted Confucius as embodying nothingness and teaching through silence. Accordingly, while praising the figure of Confucius, these surviving texts reveal how Wang relied on the interpretive and argumentative strategies of Laozi’s Daodejing to unfold his own philosophical thought and also the part that the ideal sage Confucius played in it. Second, when Confucius is not silent, that is, when he is a Ru-ist teacher of human relationships, he is contrasted with the wordless one who morally transforms the world without speaking: “The sage [Confucius] may have promulgated the five teachings [i.e., concerning the five human relationships], but those who do not speak bring about moral transformation 聖行五教, 不言為化” (Lou 1999: 195; Lynn 1999: 31). Wang Bi critiqued Ru-ism without rejecting Confucius in adopting the Daodejing’s decentering of characteristic ethical positions and values intimately linked with the Ru-ist cultivation. Wang adopted the Daodejing’s arguments that the benevolent are not benevolent and the one who appears as the sage, seeks sagehood, and endeavors to speaks as a sage, cannot be the genuine sage. It is only in the rejection of benevolence and sageliness that what these words indicate can be achieved (Lynn 1999: 40). There is a double interpretive strategy in Wang Bi’s commentaries: Confucius is the silent sage embodying the nothing while his actual teachings are bracketed, while the genuine teacher who offers us models and strategies to interpret the significance of silence and nothingness is Laozi.

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3  The Emotions, Indifference, and Responsiveness As seen above, Confucius is the teacher of nothingness by never speaking of it. Wang Bi himself did not follow this example but that of Laozi such that He Shao’s description could be construed as a criticism of Wang’s own writings. Wang is a Laoist in not only elucidating but conceptually reconstructing the Daodejing according to its teaching of nothingness. Wang’s modification of the Daoist notion of nothingness functions as the key concept that informs his interpretive strategy of all three Classics (Analects, Daodejing, and Yijing) and his depiction of a correlation between the world and existential responsiveness, language, and situated reflection. To begin with the question of emotional and existential indifference and responsiveness, which distinguished Wang’s perspective from characteristic forms of Xuanxue, it should be asked: Does Wang Bi’s discourse of nothingness undercut or in some sense inform responsiveness and the myriad things, saying and the said, reflection and change? He Shao, to take clues from his biography again, described Wang’s criticism of the position of He Yan 何晏 (196–249  CE) concerning the sages’ indifferent lack of emotions and worldly responsiveness to the myriad things (Lynn 2015: 376). The questions at stake here are: Is sageliness the integration and balancing of the emotions or their denial and overcoming? Is the sage in a condition of indifference or responsiveness? Wang Bi argued for the significance of affectivity in responding to the myriad things and their changes, which the affectively indifferent sage would lack.6 In addition, affectivity is part of the functioning of images and metaphors. Wang’s turn to affectivity of the sage and the subjectivity of the interpreter is a departure from the impersonal cosmological systems that characterized Han dynasty thought. As addressed later, Wang indicates how forms of subjectivity, individuality, and affectivity have basic functions in the life that would be sagely as they help constitute the significance of the Classics, language, and the cosmos.7 He Shao’s biography of Wang Bi indicates the links between the emotions (qing 情) and responsiveness (ying 應): “The sage is the same as others in having the five emotions, and cannot fail to respond without feeling sadness or pleasure” (Lynn 2015: 376). He Yan, Zhong Hui 鍾會 (225–264  CE), and subsequent Xuanxue thinkers maintained that the sages are free of the emotions. Wang radically departed from this position, placing him outside of Xuanxue in some interpretations. Nonetheless, it would be historically and conceptually inadequate to conclude that only Confucianism is interested in the positive role of the emotions and the ethical centrality of affective life.8 In Wang’s argument inspired by the Daodejing rather than Ru-ist sources, the affectively indifferent person is deficient, incapable of genuine attunement and responsiveness, and consequently not a sage. The sage is not  For an overview of this problematic, see Chan 2014.  On this point, see Yü 1985. 8  Wang appears closer to this Confucian insight while using a Daoist register. On the ethical import of affective life in Confucianism, see Nelson 2018. 6 7

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different in being deficient and incapable according to Wang Bi but rather in being more fully adept (Lynn 2015: 376). Sages can balance and harmonize the emotions and forces of life (qi 氣) instead of anxiously avoiding them. They respond to the myriad things without being attached to or possessed by them by having the aptitude to affectively respond without attachments and entanglements, integrating the forces of life, and harmonizing with nothingness (Lynn 2015: 376). Delineations of Daoism that require the indifference of the sage would exclude the Daodejing, if we do not accept the problematic teaching of indifference, as it deployed the notion of responding without attachment and from which Wang Bi established his own Daoist conception of responsiveness.9 The rich capacity to respond without assertion and forced or coercive action (wuwei er wu 無爲而無) to the myriad things in being oriented to nothingness is a key element in Wang’s reading of the Daodejing (Lynn 1999: 34). Responding to things is, however, not merely based in the emotions, as it more fundamentally related to one’s responsiveness to nothingness. Wang depicted the Daodejing itself as enacting what it silently teaches in terms of its embodiment of responsiveness from and to the nothingness of Dao. Issues of response and the lack of response, resonance and the lack of resonance, are articulated in Wang’s hermeneutics of the Daodejing and Yijing. The realization of beginning and completing, embodying and enacting responsiveness characterizes the very structure and hermeneutics of the Daodejing, as a source that generates new ways of speaking in responsive sympathy or negative antipathy. Wang Bi’s interpretations of the sagely figure of Confucius and the emotional dimensions of responsiveness are informed by his way of reading the Daodejing and the nothingness that he identified as its core teaching. We will now turn to questions of how nothingness can be said to function in any sense and how it, insofar as it is ineffable, can be addressed in language.

4  E  mptying the Self and the Generative Functioning of Nothingness Wang Bi’s interpretation of the Daodejing has two sides standing in tension that are potentially contradictory. On the one hand, one encounters the words, images, models and linguistic strategies of the Daodejing. On the other hand, they operate at the very limits of language and being (you) in relation to what the opening passage of the Daodejing designated a mystery hidden in or beyond all mystery (xuan zhi you xuan 玄之又玄). Mystery (xuan 玄) according to Wang is “the darkness, where in silence absolutely nothing exists 玄者, 冥默無有也” (Lou 1999: 2; Lynn 1999: 52). Wang’s border-crossing images of darkness and silence point toward that which is without image (even the blankest color) and word. The transitional crossing over of images

 I developed the importance of responsiveness in contrast to indifference in the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi in Nelson 2009 and 2020. 9

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and words is both a defixating linguistic strategy to overcome limited conceptions and a bio-spiritual practice of emptying the heart-mind (xu qi xin 虛其心) and emotional attachments. This enactment of emptiness (xu 虛) does not repress what it empties nor does it result in a neutral indifference towards the myriad things. Emptying is the condition for resonating with and responding to things in their own self-arising way of being (ziran 自然). That is, Wang Bi portrayed an embodiment and practice of emptying the heart-mind and existence in movement toward the generative functioning (yong 用) of the originary or primordial nothing (benwu 本 無), an expression that played a significant historical role in the Sinification of Buddhist emptiness (sunyata; kong 空). Wang Bi’s Daodejing does not offer settled propositions and prescriptions, and it is questionable to project such a limiting philosophical paradigm onto Daoist sources. Instead, Wang’s Daodejing suggests words and models are to be performatively enacted, as one practices what is inexpressible in words. How can such emptying defixating practices be responsively attuned to the functioning of the nothing? Wang construes the practice of emptying in his commentary on Daodejing chap. 38 as an “attuned responsive acting” (wuwei er wu 無為而無) “out of nothing” (wu yi wei 無以爲) in contrast to those who act coercively, and without responsive attunement, “out of something” (you yi wei 有以爲) (Lou 1999: 93–94; Lynn 1999: 119–121). Wang Bi’s discourse of emptying and nothingness has a practical and social-political import.10 It discloses an art of existing or practice of the self for those who would be genuine sages and kings, as he defined virtue (de 德) as the fulfillment of the way in the attainment of this operation and functioning out of nothingness (Lynn 1999: 119). According to Wang Bi, heaven and earth achieve their power by having nothingness function as their heart-mind; the sage-kings have their power by ruling through emptiness (Lynn 1999: 120). Emptiness and nothingness are expressions that refer to the functioning of Dao that are performatively enacted by the sage-kings and sages. The sage-kings in particular realize this functioning. They are said to fulfill Dao by letting nothingness function as their heart-mind and achieve their greatness through emptiness without regard for profit and loss (Lynn 1999: 120). What is this non-coercive acting from and in attunement with the happening of nothingness? First, Wang Bi offered a negative description of what it is not: it is freedom from biased, coercive, partial, or mis-attuned non-responsive action (wei 爲). Second, Wang provided positive images of what it is relying on the feminine and nurturing imagery in the Daodejing. Being attuned to and in accord with the functioning of the nothing is called embracing “the mother,” as Wang adopted the maternal discourse of the Daodejing. It is the mother who births the functioning of nothingness and the loss of the mother signifies death as the loss of the nourishing and nurturing of life. Wang Bi continued to maintain and expanded on the Daodejing linking of the feminine with nothingness such that nothingness is both: (1) primordial, originary, imageless, wordless, and beyond any possibility to even pose its mystery and secret;

10

 The political context of Wang’s ontology of nothing are examined in Wagner 2003a.

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and, as the mother, (2) generative and nurturing. One indication of their relationship is found in Wang’s remarks on Daodejing chap. 21. Laozi notes that: [1] What exists originates in nothingness, the origin of the myriad things prior to forms and names; [2] once there are forms and names, it grows them, rears them, ensures them their proper shapes, and matures them as their mother. Wang Bi’s response was that: [1] Dao, by being formless (wuxing 無形) and nameless (wuming 無名) [2] originates and brings the myriad things to completion (see Lynn 1999: 86–87). A second indication is evident in Wang’s commentary on Daodejing chap. 6. The image of the valley spirit (gushen 穀神] discloses “the nothingness in the center of the valley 谷中央無.” The mysterious dark female (xuanpin 玄牝), an expression used by both Laozi and Liezi 列子, points beyond words and is an indication of the ultimate (Lynn 1999: 62). This strategy is also evident in Wang’s commentary on the Yijing where he associated hexagram 2 Kun 坤—and its images of the earth, the feminine, the receptive, birthing all things, and the dark mare (pinma 牝馬)—with the primordial nothing of the Daodejing, deploying feminine images to empathize the primordial and generative power of Dao.11 Three conclusions can be drawn of this discourse of the feminine. First, Wang Bi’s thinking of mysterious dark learning elucidates “feminine” qualities as the virtues of flexibility, receptivity, and responsiveness as well as infinite depth and mystery. Secondly, the originary or fundamental (ben 本) is linked to images of the constancy of the earth, the pure simplicity of the uncarved block, which are reposed in themselves and world-generative in not keeping or possessing but generating and nurturing things. Third, this generative nourishing of life is described as greatness itself in Daodejing chap. 7 as heaven and earth are long-lasting in selflessly (wusi zhe 無私者) living for others rather than for themselves (Lynn 1999: 63). Their generosity and care are discernible in non-coercive or non-restrictive action. Heaven and earth fulfill Dao, its generative nourishing function, by nurturing and caring for the myriad things without self-concern and without simulated limiting (including Ru-ist) moralistic virtues and duties. Generative nothingness is the generating and nourishing of being, and the myriad things, and practicing emptying allows one to respond to this functioning of the nothing in the myriad things. How should this connection between emptiness and nothingness be interpreted? In his account of Daodejing chap. 16, Wang clarified how reaching the absolute limit of emptiness is the attainment of the limitless: One makes one’s virtue conform to that of heaven and embodies Dao so that it completely permeates oneself. As such, one attains the condition of reaching the absolute limit of emptiness … To reach the absolute limit of emptiness is attaining the constancy of Dao. As such, one attains the condition wherein absolutely no limits exist (Lynn 1999: 76-77; translation modified).

與天合德, 體道大通, 則乃至於極虛無也 ⋯⋯ 窮極虛無, 得道之常, 則乃至於不有 極也 (Lou 1999: 37).

11  On the problematic of gender in Wang Bi, in reference to his interpretation of images of the feminine in the Yijing and Daodejing, see Nelson and Yang 2016: 273.

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In the extreme limit of emptiness (yu ji xuwu 於極虛無), Dao is without conditions or limits (buyou ji ye 不有極也). The way can be addressed as constancy and oneness, as it arises in and returns to the functioning of generative nothingness. Consequently, another expression for nothingness is oneness and the One. All things and beings arise from and return to what can be expressed as or called the One (Lynn 1999: 135). Wang Bi’s philosophy of nothingness must also be a philosophy of language as discussed in the following sections of this chapter. Another noteworthy aspect of the last quoted passage is Wang Bi’s attention to the concepts of reversion, return, and reversal. His use of reversion/return (fu 復) and reversal/return (fan 反) links his commentaries on the Daodejing and the Yijing: What does it mean to revert and return to the nothing? In one sense, this refers to the arising and vanishing of beings in birth and death. In another sense, it designates a practice of opening oneself with the generative functioning of nothingness according to which all beings flourish or fail to flourish. The emptying of the heart-mind is to let or allow all beings to return to nothingness in its generative function, and can therefore be described as the realization of the fullness of the existence of things (Lynn 1999: 130). In his account of the Commentary on the Judgments (Tuan Zhuan 彖傳) to Hexagram 24, Fu 復 (return, the turning point) is defined as returning to the original root of perfectly quiescent nothingness (Lynn 1994: 286). Return is described in the Yijing as the heart-mind of heaven and earth (tiandi zhi xin 天地之心). This return is not a mere mystical escape or nihilistic embrace of a nothingness that has no generative or nourishing functions. The practice of return is one of repetition (fanfu 反復): fanfu is the return and renewal of Dao each day in embodying and enacting Dao in virtue (Lynn 1994: 287).12 The movement of return is identified as the root of virtue and the means of self-knowledge through the practice of repetition.

5  The Functions of Language in Wang Bi It would be incorrect to claim that Wang Bi only offers a purely “non-” or “anti”referentialist account of language (see Littlejohn). His conception of language elucidates multiple functions that encompass referential and non-referential uses. One function of language concerns naming (ming 名) and actuality (shi 實) (Lynn 1999: 39). Their correlation is described in the Outline Introduction to the Laozi as referential insofar as names are dependent on and necessary to differentiate and analyze principles (li 理) and forms (xing 形). First, Wang noted that names are required to differentiate principles and need to be determinately applied to discuss actualities. Second, Wang makes the much stronger claim that names necessarily arise from forms as forms do not arise from names. Third, the consequence of one and two is that if there is a name, there must be the form that it names; and if there is a form, it

12

 The classic portrayal of this issue is found in Balazs 1964: 226–254.

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is distinguishable (fen 分) from other forms (Lynn 1999: 39). This is an account of referential language that prioritizes the reality and the form over the name that depends on it to be a genuine name. Naming is one way in which language functions in relation to actualities. Wang Bi introduces another way in which language operates in calling or designating (cheng 稱). Naming makes an objective determination arising from and concerning a distinguishable entity. Designating arises from the self and stylizes things to make them understandable (Lynn 1999: 39). Language cannot only be directed at the reality of objects; it is affectively and subjectively motivated. There are other dimensions of language in addition to its referential use. There is the transformative responsive functioning of language in relation to the transition of images, meanings, and principles in his interpretation of the Yijing. Wang Bi describes the dynamic structures of the Yijing, the hexagrams and yarrow stalks, as they “respond to questions as if they were echoes” (Lynn 1994: 120). Wang has a sense of indirect and transitional languages, requiring responsiveness, as the Yijing’s “language twists and turns but hits the mark” (Lynn 1994: 87). While Wang Bi allows for the referential use of language in determining entities, he opens up linguistic possibilities by critiquing the reification of language in his well-known discussion of Clarifying Images (Ming Xiang 明象) that clarifies the interpretation of the Yijing through the Zhuangzi. Words are to be forgotten for meanings (yi 意) in the conclusion of the miscellaneous chapter “External Things” (waiwu 外物): The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you’ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning; once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can have a word with him? (Watson 2013: 233).

Wang Bi’s retelling distinguished the functions of the rabbit-trap and the fish-snare as referring to a two-fold practice of forgetting: “words (yan 言) are snares for images (xiang 象), and images are traps for meanings (yi 意)” (Lou 1999: 565; Lynn 1994: 31–32; Lynn 2015: 389). The image has an intermediate function between word and meaning so that both the forgetting of the word and image is required to disclose the genuine meaning. This process is depicted as one of unfixing the fixation or reification of words and images: “the one fixated on words will not grasp the images, and the one fixated on the image will not grasp the meaning” (Lou 1999: 565; Lynn 1994: 32; Lynn 2015: 389). In Wang Bi’s clarification we can distinguish the order of generation that proceeds from meaning (yi) through the image (xiang) to the word (yan) from the practice of unfixing and forgetting (that is, emptying) the word through the image and the image through the meaning (Lou 1999: 565; Lynn 1994: 32). In the Daodejing outline commentary, Wang elucidates a similar yet ultimately more radical strategy of unfixing. The word Dao does not refer to an entity and thus does not have a determinate name or image: As it is nameless and formless, “try to

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conceive of [Dao] as a thing, and it will turn out to be amorphous and incomplete; try to capture it as an image, and it will be utterly formless” (Lynn 1999: 30). Likewise, it functions beyond naming and comparing. Wang remarked how: “Any name for it would fail to match what it is. Any comparison for it would fail to express all that it is” (Lynn 1999: 32). How then does one appropriately speak about Dao as Laozi and Wang Bi constantly do? As Wang noted in his commentary on the Analects, language becomes a designation through metaphor, conditional expression and indirect ways of speaking that cannot rely on the fixation of either word or image: Dao is a designation (cheng 稱) for nothingness. It is because it moves through absolutely everything and absolutely everything moves through it that we use a conditional expression (kuang 況) for it called Dao. As it functions silently and without embodiment (ti 體), it is impossible to provide images for it (Lou 1999: 624; Lynn 2015: 387; translation modified).

道者, 無之稱也, 無不通也, 無不由也。況之曰道, 寂然天體, 不可為象 (Lou 1999: 624).

The way to speak about Dao, which points toward primordial nothingness, is to employ the rich variety of discursive strategies such as affective responses (ganying 感應) and corresponsive analogies (chulei 觸類) and echoing responses (ying 應).

6  Three Ways of Speaking and the Step beyond Language As noted previously, Wang Bi’s philosophy of language has been considered to be non-referential (see Littlejohn). This chapter has shown how referential language is one function of language for Wang. It is the language of naming and actuality to refer to determinate things and their qualities. It is arguably the most elemental and pragmatic yet not the most primordial function of language. Following the discussion in the last section, three different functions of language and one further consideration concerning silence can be distinguished in Wang’s surviving works.13 The first functioning of language is naming as referential discourse that refers determinate words to things. These words arise from and can accord with existing forms. While this first form is closer to the meaning of denotation, the second is closer to connation that indicates the rich nexus of meanings in which a word occur. The second form of language is designating. This relies on affectivity and subjectivity of language in conveying meaning through analogies, similes, metaphors, and responsive echoes. Language encompasses words that are conventional and subjectively related to the self. Wang Bi’s thinking of this second function of language is connected to new forms of communicating and senses of the self. In the case of Wang, there is a role for “subjectivity” (a sense of self, affectivity, and interiority) in language as well as in situationally interpreting and reflecting on the changing conditions of the world  For a general account of language use in Xuanxue, see Jana Rošker’s chapter in this Companion.

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in relation to the exemplary models indicated in the Daodejing and Yijing. There is a noteworthy role for subjectivity in Xuanxue discourses from “pure conversations” to the sensibilities expressed in poetry to the echoing responses and individual reflections in Wang’s interpretation of the Yijing. The third function of language occurs in relation to what is beyond language. The namelessness of Dao is non-referential in that it can have no determinate name, no fixed image, and is a non-thing. This is the “great name” functioning beyond all naming, the “great image” that cannot be perceived or imagined, and it would be the great thing (to the extent that one could speak this way) that transcends all thingliness (Lynn 1999: 31, 114). As it is non-referential in referring to a nameless imageless non-thing, it operates at the limits of saying, through which much more can be said than what is contained in the expression, with respect to originary generative nothingness. Nothingness is not a determinate name. It cannot be thematized as a thing or something, which it is not, and resists being treated as a determinate meaning or propositional said. It is irreducible to the words, images, and meanings that would capture it. Its primordiality is disclosed and experientially enacted in response to (responsiveness) to its functioning in and beyond language. Finally, however, there is also a fourth more radical consideration that is profounder and deeper than any form of speaking about Dao, nothingness, the mother, or oneness. It is a practice of non-saying that appears to overcome the limits and boundaries of language altogether. According to Wang Bi, and his biographer He Shao, the ultimate is disclosed in not speaking at all and wordlessly teaching through the silence of nothingness. This is imagined in the figure of Confucius insofar as he does not speak of nothingness yet simply and humbly is in accord with it despite the teachings of his students and the Ru-ists. Such responsiveness in and out of nothingness would signify encountering the limitless in encountering the very limit of language.

7  Conclusion Wang Bi’s philosophy of language is simultaneously a critique of the reification of language. This elucidation of language is informed by a practice of the self that would free itself from limited biased conceptions and discourses. Each linguistic form has its own appropriate function. When they are misapplied, and one becomes trapped and ensnared in words and images, then practices of defixating, dereification, and forgetting are called for so that the sense can be liberated from its linguistic and imaginative confines. This practice of emptying transpires, as discussed above, through responding in and out of nothingness. In conclusion, this chapter has clarified Wang Bi’s philosophy of language and practice of emptying by focusing on the relation between words, images, meanings, and the emptying unfixing and forgetting of words, images, and meanings in the

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context of Wang’s interpretation of responsiveness from and toward nothingness. It has illustrated in an outline a coherent philosophical discourse that can be—in the way it prioritizes the discourse of nothingness—considered as offering new and significant insights into Xuanxue.

Bibliography Ashmore, Robert. 2004. “Word and Gesture: On Xuan-School Hermeneutics of the Analects.” Philosophy East and West, 54.4: 458–488. Balazs, Etienne. 1964. “Nihilistic Revolt or Mystical Escapism: Currents of Thought in China during the Third Century A.D.,” in Chinese Civilization and Bureaucracy, 226–254. New Haven: Yale University Press. Chai, David. 2019. Zhuangzi and the Becoming of Nothingness. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chan, Alan K.L. 1991. Two Visions of the Way: A Study of the Wang Pi and the Ho-shang Kung Commentaries on the Lao-tzu. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chan, Alan K.L. 2014. “Embodying Nothingness and the Ideal of the Affectless Sage in Daoist Philosophy.” In JeeLoo Liu and Douglas Berger, eds., Nothingness in Asian Philosophy, 213–229. New York: Routledge. Chen, Shou 陳壽. 1975. Chronicles of the Three Kingdoms 三國志. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Chong, Kim-Chong. 2016. Zhuangzi’s Critique of the Confucians: Blinded by the Human. Albany: State University of New York Press. Creel, Herrlee G. 1982. What Is Taoism? and other Studies in Chinese Cultural History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Feng, Youlan. 1953. A History of Chinese Philosophy. Translated by Derk Bodde. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Littlejohn, Ronnie. n.d. “Wang Bi.” Available online: https://www.iep.utm.edu/wangbi/ Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collection of Wang Bi’s Works: Critical Edition with Annotations 王弼 集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1994. The Classic of Changes: A New Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1999. The Classic of the Dao and Virtue: A New Translation of the Tao-te Ching of Laozi as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Lynn, Richard J. 2015. “Wang Bi and Xuanxue.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 369-396. Dordrecht: Springer. Nelson, Eric S. 2009. “Responding with Dao: Early Daoist Ethics and the Environment.” Philosophy East and West, 59.3: 294-316. Nelson, Eric S. and Liu Yang. 2016. “The Yijing, Gender, and the Ethics of Nature.” In Ann Pang-­ White, ed., The Bloomsbury Research Handbook of Chinese Philosophy and Gender, 267-288. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Nelson, Eric S. 2018. “Confucian Relational Hermeneutics, the Emotions, and Ethical Life.” In Paul Fairfield and Saulius Geniusas, eds., Relational Hermeneutics: Essays in Comparative Philosophy, 193-204. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Nelson, Eric S. 2020. Daoism and Environmental Philosophy: Nourishing Life. London: Routledge. Schipper, Kristofer. 2000. The Taoist Body. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2000. The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on the Laozi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003a. Language, Ontology, and Political Philosophy in China: Wang Bi’s Scholarly Exploration of the Dark (Xuanxue). Albany: State University of New York Press.

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Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003b. A Chinese Reading of the Daodejing: Wang Bi’s Commentary on the Laozi with Critical Text and Translation. Albany: State University of New York Press. Watson, Burton, trans. 2013. The Complete Works of Zhuangzi. New  York: Columbia University Press. Yü, Ying-Shih. 1985. “Individualism and the Neo-Taoist Movement in Wei-Chin China.” In Donald Munro, ed., Individualism and Holism: Studies in Confucian and Taoist Values, 121-155. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Eric S. Nelson is Professor of Philosophy at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. He works on Chinese, German, and Jewish philosophy. He is the author of Chinese and Buddhist Philosophy in Early Twentieth-Century German Thought (2017), Daoism and Environmental Philosophy (2020) and Levinas, Adorno, and the Ethics of the Material Other (2020). He is editor of Interpreting Dilthey: Critical Essays (2019), co-editor with François Raffoul of the Bloomsbury Companion to Heidegger (2016) and Rethinking Facticity (2008), and co-editor with John Drabinski of Between Levinas and Heidegger (2014).

Chapter 16

Metaphysics without Ontology: Wang Bi and the Daodejing Alan Fox

1  Introduction It is impossible to avoid the conclusion that much of how the modern world views the Daodejing 道德經 is at least equally, if not more, attributable to the Xuanxue commentator Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) than to any putative author named “Laozi 老 子.” Wang Bi lived during the early years of Buddhism’s introduction into China, which brought with it many metaphysical and abstract concerns never before systematically considered in Chinese thought. Because of Wang Bi’s emphasis on metaphysics, European translators and commentators have almost universally favored an ontological reading of the Daodejing. This approach understands Dao 道 as a monolithic, static, abstract, uniquely ineffable fundamental reality akin to the Vedantic Brahman. As far as we know, the earliest Western translation of the Daodejing was a Latin version produced by Jesuit missionaries allegedly seeking to identify Christian structures and thought in the text. From this patronizing start, all subsequent early translations followed suit and understood the text in terms of contemporary theological and metaphysical thought. Chad Hansen notes that “translators usually capitalize Dao—as they would God” (Hansen 1992: 215). As Hall and Ames point out, “to the extent that Chinese philosophy has become the subject of Western philosophical interest at all, it has usually been analyzed within the framework of categories and philosophical problems not its own” (Ames and Hall 2003: xi). So, much of how we read the text today seems to be the result of translator imposition. But upon surveying a number of recent translations of Wang Bi’s foundational commentary on the text, I will argue that the ontological bias, which has long been taken for granted, in fact imposes a number of serious and problematic viewpoints

A. Fox (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_16

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and positions, and consequently inconsistencies and incoherencies, onto the text. As Alan Chan says, “Wang’s understanding of the Laozi cannot be taken as exclusively concerned with abstract metaphysics” (Chan 1991: 45). Furthermore, Wang Bi’s commentary can also be read as sympathetic to a process understanding, in which daos are seen as pluralistic, dynamic, and concrete. Such readings arguably resolve many of the non-sequiturs, paradoxes, and inconsistencies which appear in the majority of translations based on the ontological reading.

2  Ontological vs. Process Metaphysics To begin with, it is important to delineate the limits of this discourse, à la Wittgenstein. As far as this chapter is concerned, the fundamental goal of any metaphysical discussion is the establishing of a common lexicon on the basis of which it would be possible to talk meaningfully about reality. So, the ultimate subject of discussion here is language about reality, but not “reality” itself. And if language is the central issue, then translational ambiguities present metaphysical problems. So, in the interest of parsimony, the goal of translation is to find a language that expresses the text with the fewest metaphysical problems. I propose to distinguish between two types of language use, or discourse, with regard to metaphysics, both of which are represented in the literature on the Daodejing. The first, most prominent and conspicuous type, is the ontological. Ontological metaphysical views define reality in terms of “Existence.” There are several immediate points worth noting in this description. First of all, the word “Existence” is conscientiously capitalized. As Hansen has indicated above, the use of the capital letter (as is also the case when the character 道 is rendered as “Dao”) indicates the concept as an abstraction, without reference to any concrete instance. Significantly, and perhaps painfully obviously, Chinese characters are not capable of capitalization. As Roger Ames and David Hall point out, “… [in] Waley’s popular title [The Way and its Power], … the use of a capital ‘W’ invests this ‘Way’ semantically as a metonym for the transcendent and Divine” (Ames and Hall 2003: 13). It is important to point out that the capitalization of the romanized term is a translator choice which already imposes an abstract implication onto what is not obviously abstract at all. It also indicates singularity, the idea that “the Way” is unique. This is further confirmed by the introduction of the definite article “the,” which is also not available in Chinese. The other significant concern here is that the classical Chinese language does not have a word for “existence.” There is certainly no term that corresponds to the verb “to be,” except as it is used in certain non-ontological senses, such as “shi 是,” which some take to mean “is,” but actually functions as an affirmation: not that something “is,” but that something “is the case.” So the use of the term “Existence” implies a concept of a type or level of reality which is abstract, monolithic, static, uniquely ineffable, and fundamentally real, which is distinguishable from and precedes the world of concrete, pluralistic, dynamic, and subordinately real entities (the ten thousand things, wanwu 萬物) which emerges from it. On the other hand, process metaphysical views prioritize the “existenz,” the concrete, evolving actualities which are seen to comprise what can be called “reality.”

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In this sense, what can be called reality is constituted by an, at least virtually, infinite number of processes which are constantly interacting and interfering with each other. All things, then, are dynamic processes, in the sense that they are constantly changing, i.e., moving through time. Thus, they are seen as events, rather than as “things,” as is the case with ontological metaphysics. Hall and Ames put it this way: As a parody on Parmenides, who claimed that “only Being is,” we might say that for the Daoist, “only beings are,” or taking one step further in underscoring the reality of the process of change itself, “only becomings are.” That is, the Daoist does not posit the existence of some permanent reality behind appearances, some unchanging substratum, some essential defining aspect behind the accidents of change. Rather, there is just the ceaseless and usually cadenced flow of experience (Ames and Hall 2003: 14).

Processes process, and though for a while they can be described in one way, eventually they will turn into some other process and will need to be described in another way. This seems to be what Zhuangzi is referring to when he explains his matter-offact attitude in the face of his wife’s passing: Zhuangzi’s wife died. When Huizi went to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, pounding on a tub and singing. You lived with her, she brought up your children and grew old, said Huizi. It should be enough simply not to weep at her death. But pounding on a tub and singing—this is going too far, is it not? Zhuangzi said: You are wrong. When she first died, do you think I did not grieve like anyone else? But I looked back to her beginning and the time before she was born. Not only the time before she was born, but the time before she had a body. Not only the time before she had a body, but the time before she had a spirit. In the midst of the jumble of wonder and mystery a change took place and she had a spirit. Another change and she had a body. Another change and she was born. Now there has been another change and she is dead. It’s just like the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter. Now she is going to lie down peacefully in a vast room. If I were to follow after her bawling and sobbing, it would show that I do not understand anything about fate, so I stopped (Watson 1964: 113; Guo 1985: 614–615).

While it is the case that processes are constantly changing into other processes, some processes clearly persist longer than others. A soap bubble certainly does not last long, but a well-built table can last a long time. Both are constantly encountering interference from other processes, but some processes are better capable of managing that interference. This capacity can be described as “tolerance,” which refers to the capacity of a structure to withstand stress without losing structural integrity. The loss of structural integrity will result in the collapse of the structure. Processes with more tolerance will persist longer than processes with less tolerance. Ironically, the characters used in the Daodejing to represent tolerance and the ability to yield to force are often translated as “weakness,” when in fact they are strengths.

3  Ontological vs. Process Readings of the Daodejing With regard to the term “dao,” we can therefore distinguish between ontological and process metaphysical understandings. According to an ontological understanding, represented by the majority of translations into English at least, “the Dao” is a singular or monolithic, abstract, static or eternal, fundamental reality which always

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remains uniquely ineffable. As indicated above, there are clearly linguistic reasons to reject the ontological reading as a complex cultural superimposition. But there are important historical and philosophical reasons as well. Historically, such abstract metaphysical thinking is really unobserved in China until the introduction of Buddhist, and derivatively, Hindu abstract thought which takes place just around the time of Wang Bi. This might explain his own interest, but is inconsistent with the insistence on the appearance of such ideas six or so hundred years earlier. Philosophically, ontological readings lead to many contradictions, non-sequiturs, and incoherencies which are resolved by process readings. Julia Hardy points out that: Other interpreters strongly disagreed with the notion of Dao as an absolute being. In an essay entitled What is Daoism? Herrlee Creel criticizes Maspero’s statements about the identity of all mystical experience, asserting the importance of distinguishing between Western and Daoist mysticism … Continuing the point in a later essay, he argues that Dao is more ordinary—existing even in “ordure and urine”—than extraordinary (Hardy 1998: 168).

According to a process understanding of the Daodejing, the term “dao” refers to reality as pluralistic, concrete, dynamic, and real (as opposed to fundamentally real), and commonly (as opposed to uniquely) ineffable to the extent that every actual event or daoing is somewhat ineffable—in the sense that there can never be a word which completely captures the object to which it refers. No word can substitute for the complexity of an object or even the experience of the object. The word “rose” conveys nothing of the taste, smell, texture, color, etc. of the object in question. In this sense, all language is metaphorical—things are “as though” this or that. So, all daos are somewhat ineffable, but none are uniquely so. Chad Hansen puts it this way: “The first line … entails neither the existence nor the ineffability of a single metaphysical or prescriptive dao” (Hansen 1992: 215). The Daodejing, though, clearly equivocates with regard to the term dao. Actually, the text is prone to equivocation in general, which explains many, if not all, of the rhetorical paradoxes for which it is famous: “act without acting,” “bending requires straightening,” “to become mature is to become like a child again,” and so on. Once the equivocation is disambiguated, the paradox disappears. It is possible to distinguish between at least two prominent senses of the term “dao”—the ideal sense and the actual sense. “Ideal” is taken to mean perfect. But for reasons that will be outlined in a moment, perfection is not possible in the actual world, so we can also describe the ideal as “asymptotic,” which is a reference in calculus to a line which a curve approaches infinitely without ever actually crossing. So, the ideal is asymptotic in the sense that, even though it is unattainable, it is possible to get closer and closer to it. And finally, the ideal is normative, in the sense that we should all strive for the optimal, which means to come as close to the ideal as possible. An example of an ideal dao, then, or process, would be the calculated trajectory of an arrow from bow to bullseye which would include the required force, the necessary altitude and attitude, etc. Even the most skilled of archers, actually shooting the arrow as closely as possible to the ideal criteria, is unlikely to hit the center of the bullseye, at least because of some influencing factor such as wind, gravity waves,

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some poor bird that gets in the way, etc. So, the ideal dao is counterfactual in the sense that it refers to the way the process would unfold in the absence of any outside interference. Actual daoings, however, participating in a world consisting of infinite other daoings, can never completely avoid interference with/from other daoings. So ideal daoings don’t actually dao and daos that actually dao are not going to be ideal daos. This is how a process translation would render the first line of the Daodejing: “Daos that can actually dao are not ideal daos.” The term that is being translated here as “ideal” is chang 常. Whereas the ontological translations present this as “eternal,” eternality again is one of the concepts which is just not found in Chinese thought prior to the introduction of Buddhism. As any Chinese-English dictionary will confirm, chang means “constant, often, frequent, usual, etc.,” but not “eternal” in the sense of unchanging and therefore outside of time entirely. One way to explain the presence of ontological readings of the Daodejing is to see them as missing the equivocation with regard to dao. In other words, the contexts in which daos are described in ideal terms are taken as referring to a more fundamental reality than those in which daos are described in actual terms. That is, the merely hypothetical, heuristic, counterfactual ideal trajectory of the arrow, which refers to how it would behave in the absence of interference, is taken, in an almost Pythagorean sense, as more real than the actual trajectory, which is how it actually behaves in the face of interference.

4  C  omparative Translations of Chapter 1 and Wang Bi’s Commentary The first chapter of the Daodejing highlights all of the issues discussed above. This chapter will compare four translations of it along with the corresponding, running commentary of Wang Bi. The translations are those by Richard Lynn (RL), Ariane Rump (AR), Rudolf Wagner (RW), and myself (AF). My translation will serve as a process alternative to the other more or less ontological readings, and the goal is to demonstrate that, even though Wang Bi takes a metaphysical approach, it can just as easily be read as a process metaphysics as it can an ontological metaphysics. Laozi’s text and its four translations will be given first, followed by Wang Bi’s commentary and its translations. Chapter 1 begins with Laozi saying: 道可道, 非常道; 名可名, 非常名 (Lou 1999: 1). The four translations read as follows: (RL) The Dao that can be described in language is not the constant Dao; the name that can be given it is not its constant name (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) The Dao that can be told of is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name (Rump and Chan 1979: 1). (RW) A way that can be spoken of is not the eternal Way. A name that can be named is not the eternal name (Wagner 2003: 120). (AF) Daos that actually dao are not uninterrupted [ideal] daos. Designations that can actually designate are not invariant [ideal] designations.

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The first three translations all perpetuate historically common translation paradigms. The first two, for instance, both capitalize the term dao. It has already been pointed out that, since Chinese characters cannot be capitalized, this is entirely a translator interjection, though an overwhelmingly common one. The use of the capitalized initial indicates that the term is being understood in the abstract, rather than the concrete. Considering the evidence that abstract metaphysical thought is really not found in China prior to the introduction of Buddhism, the reference in this case is historically unfeasible. Also unfeasible is the use of the singular sense of dao, since the original Chinese text does not indicate singulars or plurals, as well as the use of the definite article. Since Chinese does not have definite or indefinite articles, there is no way to decide, other than through the requirements of coherence, whether the first line is about “a dao,” “some daos,” “all daos,” “the Dao,” or “the daos.” This means that the implications that dao is abstract and singular are entirely in the eye of the beholder. Given the grammatical limitations of the language, these are all translator impositions which generate the sense of dao as monolithic, uniquely ineffable, and abstract, none of which are actually expressible in the classical Chinese of the time. Similarly, the passive sense represented in these renderings is not indicated in the Chinese. This is a distortion of the syntax represented by many traditional translations, including those represented above, which render the first line as something like: “The Dao that can be Daoed is not the Eternal Dao.” Linguists like Peter Boodberg argue that it would really be forcing the text to conform to a preconceived meaning, despite the usual requirement of syntax, to suggest that the first phrase is about a “Dao that can be daoed” in the passive sense rather than about a dao, or daos, that can dao. He says: The supposed requirements of idiomatic usage in the translating languages probably serves as the unspoken excuse for this unjudicious violation of the fundamental axiom of Chinese grammar: modifier precedes principal. Indo-European relative clauses are expressed in Chinese by adjectival ones. “The name that can be named” would have been an appropriate translation for ke ming zhi ming 可名之名; it is a bad distortion of the original for ming ke ming which is either a finite sentence (“the name may be named,” or “the name be named,” as a precative or imperative subjunctive) or a conditional clause (“if the name were namable,” … “is namable,” “be namable”) (Boodberg 1957: 602).

It would be possible to indicate the passive sense using certain Chinese characters which are not present in this case. So, it is really a mystery why so many translations treat this as “the Dao that can be daoed” when a perfectly reasonable sense of the actual text is “daos that can dao.” Likewise, the phrase “described in language” is totally imposed upon the text, which merely says that “daos can dao.” This is another translator choice which is found in the preponderance of translations in some form or another, and it is necessary only if we insist on treating the term dao as a reference to some abstract, uniquely ineffable, monolithic fundamental reality. There is a consensus here that “the Dao” is somehow uniquely ineffable, unspeakable, or indescribable. However, there is a consistent implication throughout the text that all of reality is ineffable, in the sense that words can never fully or completely describe the nature of a thing.

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Can the color “red” be described in such a way that substitutes for the experience? Can “beauty”? It is not clear in what sense dao 道 is more ineffable than the rest of reality, and in fact this distinction is only necessary if we posit an Absolute Dao, in the style of the Vedantic Brahman, which, when understood as nirguna or “beyond qualification,” cannot be characterized or linguistically represented. One question which inevitably arises among novice readers subjected to the imposition of the definite, singular article “dao” is whether or not anything can be said to be “unnatural.” That is, if everything that occurs takes place within “dao,” then even things like social convention and the conquest of nature cannot really be said to be apart from the natural Way. I suggest that the problem here is that the idea of dao has become monolithic, as though there were only a single, all-­encompassing, Absolute Dao, metaphysically abstract and transcendental. If there were such a Dao, then surely nothing in the world could be said to take place outside of it. However, if we avoid positing such a Dao in the first place, then it becomes clear that even though everything actually daos, nothing daos ideally. This is also a problem in the second part of the couplet—again, the passive sense of “that can be named” is not supported here. Also, the subjects “it” and “it’s” are inferred by the translator, since it is not actually clear to what or whom the term “ming 名” refers. All of the translations included here also translate “chang 常” as “eternal.” This is especially egregious. There is almost no comparable usage of the term, which is elsewhere consistently taken to mean “uninterrupted” or “consistent, usual, common” than “eternal.” The concept of eternality describes what is outside of time, which is a measurement of change, and therefore is a description of what is not changing and, therefore, not subject to time. This is completely inconsistent historically, but is also completely inconsistent with all dictionary and colloquial usages. This is one more example of how the process reading leads to fewer translator superimpositions than the ontological reading. I, therefore, suggest that a process understanding of chang would be “continuous” or “uninterrupted” rather than “permanent” or “eternal.” According to this usage, as indicated above, unimpeded or uninterrupted daos would be seen as “ideal” daos. Wang Bi also uses “chang” wherever I use “ideal.” This is yet another clue to how to read Wang Bi without assigning ontological status to dao. Thus, the line could be read as “daos can actually dao, but there are no ideal daos.” This is then in fact a denial of the existence of an ideal, uninterrupted, or even “eternal” Dao, as opposed to the common reading which suggests that there is in fact an eternal (Vedantic) Dao, but that any dao that can be spoken of is not it. I contend that daos that can dao are actual daos, that is, actual daos refer to processes which proceed in the face of, or despite, interference from other daos, and persist to the extent that they demonstrate tolerance. So, the process translation understands the distinction as between “ideal” (unobstructed, uninterrupted, unimpeded, not interfered with) processes, which are purely hypothetical and heuristic, and “actual” (obstructed, interrupted, impeded, interfered with) processes which persist to the extent that they exhibit tolerance.

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The second clause, therefore, also need not be taken to refer to some type of “eternal” or “unnamable Name.” This is an idea found more commonly in Judaic thought, where the unutterable name of God is sought, for instance, in Jewish mysticism. Rather, it is at least equally likely, if not more likely, that the phrase refers to ming as a verb: “naming” rather than “name.” Thus, wuming 無名 refers similarly to not naming, rather than some unnamable entity or unutterable name. There are a number of different Chinese terms which are used to refer to various kinds of names, labels, designations, descriptions, titles, and so forth. In his “Outline Introduction to the Laozi” (Laozi Zhilüe 老子指略), Wang Bi says: As for designations, they precisely select (or define) objects. As for labels, they are labels for speaking of things. A designation is generated from its object, labels are produced by the subject … Now, if someone cannot even distinguish between designations, then there is no way to speak of principles with them; If someone can’t even master definitions, then there is no way to discuss anything of substance. In general, designations refer to forms. There has never been a form which refers to a designation. Therefore, if there is a designation, there will be a form. For there to be a form, there must be some distinction (Lou 1999: 197–199).

Ming, then, means more than simply a label which is assigned to something. It also means “fame,” “reputation,” “title,” or, in general, that in terms of or by means of which something comes to be known. Here we see a mode of identification very different from an Aristotelian one. For Aristotle, the definition of a thing refers to its very essence, which is identified by its telos or purpose. Here, though, there are no essences, just mings or noticeable, identifiable features, in a phenomenological or even Quantum Mechanical sense. To designate, in this sense, is to pick out a figure from the ground, in the Gestalt sense by finding some feature of an object/process that makes it possible to distinguish or isolate that specific process from the background manifold of simultaneous processes. The second line thus indicates the epistemological emphasis of the chapter—it concerns how things come into being as they are known, in a phenomenological sense. Thus, everything is always changing as we come to know things from new perspectives and in terms of newly discovered qualities. Additionally, since language changes over time, the meaning of words is not fixed or concrete, but rather fluid and plastic. What is constant about mings is their capacity to direct attention, as designators or indexicals. They are the means by which ostensibly individual entities are distinguished or picked out of the manifold. When attention is redirected in this way, it is worth noting, nothing has changed in the manifold, but different parts or aspects of the manifold seem to emerge. Wang Bi’s commentary is as follows: 可道之道, 可名之名, 指事造形, 非其常 也。故不可道, 不可名也 (Lou 1999: 1). Here are the translations: (RL) The Dao that can be rendered in language and the name that can be given it point to a thing/matter or reproduce a form, neither of which is it in its constancy. This is why it can neither be rendered in language nor given a name (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) The Dao than can be told of and the name that can be named point to a particular affair and construct a form but not their eternal aspect. Therefore, they cannot be told of or named (Rump and Chan 1979: 1).

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(RW) A way that can be spoken about is a demonstrable process, a name that can be named is a created shape, but not their [the way’s and the name’s] Eternal. This is because [their Eternal] cannot be spoken about and cannot be named (Wagner 2003: 121). (AF) daos that can actually dao and designations that can actually designate single out particular events and establish forms but none are constant/ideal, because if they were, they could not actually dao or actually designate.

All of the first three translations are committed, on the basis of their translations of the original text, to reading the commentary in the same way, that is, that the second appearance of the term dao means “that can be spoken/told of.” As for Lynn’s use of “reproduction” of forms, the term zao 造 does not actually mean to “reproduce” something that is already present, but seems more to suggest the creation or establishment of something novel, perhaps out of previously present elements. The idea of “reproduction” serves to presuppose the idea of a pre-existing “form” or ideal prototype of which the instance is a mere “reproduction.” Wagner’s phrases “that can be spoken of” and “demonstrable process” are, again, entirely superimposed onto the text. However, he does, perhaps unwittingly, translate dao as process. The other two also utilize the passive sense for the first phrase. The problems with Wagner’s translation are dramatized by the significant number of times he employs bracketed insertions. Understandably, some Chinese phrases require such interpolation, but the sheer frequency of Wagner’s usage is telling. As a result, much of his translation does not actually appear in the text. He introduces “demonstrable,” “created shape,” and the idea of “the Eternal” with a capital E. Additionally, the first three translations of the phrase fei qi chang ye 非其常也 are all virtually incoherent. They all assume the latent existence of some “constancy” or “eternal aspect.” What does it even mean to speak of “that which it is in its constancy”? And is not just saying that proof that it is not unspeakable? This is clearly the result of reading the text through the filter of the assumption of some eternal substratum underlying the world of change. And once again, all three translations translate dao as “rendered in language,” e.g., which forces them to distinguish between “spoken about” and “named,” which is a vague and unnecessary distinction. It is not at all clear why this is not redundant. Is not giving something a name synonymous with rendering it in language? This is absurd and incoherent, and is a case where the process reading eliminates non-­ sequiturs and inconsistencies. If one reads the first dao as “daoing” or “any dao” then this is not necessary. In this sense, any daos that dao ideally, that is, without any interference from other daos, would have to exist in a universe where they were the only thing that existed, so all daos that actually dao, are ones that dao in spite of interference, not in the absence of it. In the second line of chapter 1, Laozi writes: 無名天地之始, 有名萬物之母 (Lou 1999: 1). The four translations render it thusly: (RL) Nameless, it is the origin of the myriad things; named it is the mother of the myriad things (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) The Nameless is the origin of heaven and earth; the Named is the mother of all things (Rump and Chan 1979: 1).

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Again, Wagner’s brackets are intrusive. This is also a case where “the Way” comes to be used as a place-marker for a fundamental reality with no reference whatsoever to its etymology or common usage. One important question for the first three translators would be why dao is being treated as an abstract noun, when the gerundial nature of the language really precludes this. And again, rather than talking about names, which leads to non-sequiturs and incoherent reference to some kind of “unnamable name,” the text might just as easily, if not more so, be talking about naming as a verb, the act of designating a particular (ostensible) entity or figure out of the phenomenological manifold or ground. Roger Ames and David Hall point out that “one additional wu-form, for example, is wuming 無名: translated as ‘the nameless,’ but actually suggesting a kind of naming that does not assign fixed reference to things” (Ames and Hall 2003: 45). It is particularly worth noting the difference between the abstract and impersonal use of “originates” (shi 始) on the one hand, and the more concrete and intimate “engenders” (mu 母, lit. mother) on the other. (Lynn’s translation is the only one of those included here which relies on a version of the text where both shi and mu serve as the source of the ten thousand things, whereas all the others use a version where shi is the source of tiandi and mu is the source of the wanwu). The difference between shi and mu seems to signify a neutral and impersonal origin on the one hand, and the more intimate and personal image of a mother who gives birth to her children on the other. In this context, we can now look at the meaning of these two passages in a cognitive or epistemological fashion. That is to say, if we don’t discriminate entities out of the manifold by assigning designations to things, then we tend to see the world as though from a distance, as a whole, without focusing on any particular entity. On the contrary, if we do assign such designations, we tend to view the world as made up of so many individual things, which leads us to take an interest in them and brings us into direct interaction with them. In this way, the text might be understood as suggesting that the very act of naming things distinguishes them in some very substantial way. So, it does seem that the text is saying that it is not daoing that generates the diversity of things in the world, but rather designating or minging daos. Tiandi 天地 is often used as a compound to refer to the whole world, that is, “heaven and earth.” What is above and what is below, or what is outside of our control as well as that which is within our control. Wanwu, on the other hand, refers to the myriad of ostensibly discrete entities. To distinguish between the two, then, is to point out the difference between seeing the world as a whole and seeing it as composed of individual things. In other words, one can either see the forest or the trees, but, as the chapter continues to point out, these are not two different things. Wang Bi continues his commentary, saying: 凡有皆始於無, 故未形無名之時, 則為萬物之始。及其有形有名之時, 則長之, 育之, 亭之, 毒之, 為其母也。言 道以無形無名始成萬物, 以始以成而不知其所以, 玄之又玄也 (Lou 1999: 1).

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Translations of Wang’s commentary are as follows: (RL) Anything that exists originates in nothingness, thus, before it has forms and when it is still nameless, it serves as the origin of the myriad things, and, once it has forms and is named, it grows them, rears them, ensures them their proper shapes, and matures them as their mother. In other words, the Dao, by being itself formless and nameless, originates and brings the myriad things to completion. They are originated and completed in this way yet do not know how it happens. This is the mystery beyond mystery (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) All being originated from non-being. The time before physical forms and names appeared was the beginning of the myriad things. After forms and names appear, “Dao (the Way) develops them, nourishes them, provides their formal shape and completes their formal substance,” that is, becomes (or is) their Mother. This means that Dao produces and completes things with the formless and the nameless. Thus, they are produced and completed but do not know why. Indeed it is the mystery of mysteries (Rump and Chan 1979: 1). (RW) Generally speaking, Entity all begins in negativity. That is why it [the Way] will be at a time when there are neither shapes nor names, the beginning of the ten thousand kinds of entities. When it comes to a time when there are shapes and names, that which [according to Laozi 51.3] “lets [ten thousand kinds of entities] grow, and nurtures them, specifies them, and completes them;” [in short,] it will be their mother. This means the Way begins and completes the ten thousand kinds of entities by means of [its] featurelessness and namelessness. That the ten thousand kinds of entities are begun by it [the Way] and completed by it [the Way], but that they do not know that through which these [two, their beginning and completion] come to be as they are is [its aspect of being] Dark-and-Dark-Again (Wagner 2003: 121). (AF) All presences originate from [their own] absence. Therefore, the time before things form or are designated can be considered the origin of the ten thousand things. From the time that forms and designations become present they “grow,” “are raised,” and “are nurtured,” and so [the text] can consider this as the mother. The word “Dao” refers to the formless, the non-designated beginning from which the ten thousand things are actualized. The ten thousand things are the initialized and actualized but they don’t know from where they came. [Just] “mystery and more mystery.”

As for wuming 無名 and youming 有名, many translators regard the former as referring to “the Nameless,” that is, some ineffable, constant, eternal, absolute, or transcendental Dao; and the second as referring to the dao that is named, or an ordinary dao. Wang Bi is often read as though he punctuates these phrases in such a way as to read “wuming” as “wu is named …” and “youming” as “you is named …” But Boodberg, for one, urges caution in this regard: The philologist should protest with the utmost vigor the common translation of Chinese yu … and wu … as “Being” and “Non-being” respectively, or even as “Existence” and “Non-existence.” There is no doubt that prior to the invasion of China by Buddhism with its Indo-European glosso-philosophical paraphernalia which made ontological speculation possible, these two Chinese terms, even in Daoist environment, remained securely within the semantic and philosophical category of habit or possession … These essential facts of the Chinese language are best kept in mind by endeavoring to maintain some consistency in translation and keeping yu and wu within the range of “have-aught” and “have-naught” (verbally or nominally) without yielding too readily to the temptation of substituting for them the idiosyncratically occidental concepts of “being” and “non-being” (Boodberg 1957: 607).

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Alan Chan points out that one objection to Boodberg’s position is that it disregards cases of you and wu being treated as nouns in the Pre-Han literature, but even the nominal sense of the two terms need not translate as “being” and “non-being,” since “absence” and “presence” are also both nouns. And Chan also agrees with the venerable A.C. Graham that there are problems with taking wu “as an abstract noun when it is applied to Dao.” Chan says: … wu can be translated as “non-being” or “no-thing,” with the emphasis on the negative prefix. The problem arises, however, when one tries to describe it in positive terms … This casts a doubt on the use of “non-being”—or better, “Non-being”—to translate wu as an abstract noun signifying the presence of a transcendental subject (Chan 1991: 46).

Frankly, it is not at all clear what is supposed to be meant by “non-being.” In modern Chinese, the term you is used to indicate possession or presence. However, even in the latter case it refers to the fact that a certain location or object has something there—for example, to say that the person is on the bus is to say that the bus has the person on it. On the other hand if we choose not to impose imported ontological categories onto the text, then the first phrase could be taken to refer to the absence of naming and the second to the presence of naming and thereby avoid the incoherencies. The relation between you and wu can, therefore, be understood in a purely cognitive or phenomenological sense as referring to the Gestalt distinction between figure and ground. That is, things are present to the extent that they stand off against their own absence. Furthermore, to prioritize wu in a chronologically linear cosmology is to ignore the sections of the text which emphasize the relativity of you and wu, such as chapter 40, which says that “reversal is the movement of dao 反者道之動.” In other words, if you emerges from wu, then wu also emerges from you, in a cyclical rather than linear cosmology, and there is no reason to prioritize one over the other. A similar sentiment is expressed in chapter 2, where the text says, “therefore presence and absence engender each other.” A cyclical cosmology is actually more consistent with other principles of Chinese thought than a linear one. Laozi continues: 故常無欲, 以觀其妙;. This line has been translated as follows: (RL) Therefore, always be without desire so as to see their subtlety (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) Therefore, let there always be no desire, so we may see their subtlety (Rump and Chan 1979: 1). (RW) Therefore, while they [the ten thousand kinds of entities] are [still] constantly without desire, one has something by means of which to perceive its [the ultimate principle’s] subtlety (Wagner 2003: 121). (AF) Therefore, consistently remain without preferences in order to observe the wonder.

It is not at all clear how one can always be with desire and always be without desire, as the first two translations suggest in this and the following passage. The more likely implication is that seeing the world one way usually or always leads to one kind of insight, while seeing the world in another way usually leads to another kind of insight. In fact some translators include the pejorative term “merely” to qualify the second clause, as though seeing the jiao 徼 is inferior to seeing the miao 妙. But the “merely” is yet another imposition, and the text more straightforwardly seems to

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be saying that both are necessary. To repeat the metaphor, seeing the miao is seeing the forest, or tiandi, while seeing the jiao is seeing the trees, or wanwu. Jiao is taken here as the apparent boundaries or superficial distinctions between things. This is easily mapped onto Ames and Hall’s “field-focus” model (Ames and Hall 2003). Miao is a very difficult term to render in English without importing all manner of alien hermeneutical baggage. I propose to understand miao as an attitude towards, or mode of experiencing, the world. It constitutes an “apprehension of profundity,” in the sense that what is profound contains multiple meanings and layers of meaning. For instance, when I describe a classic work of literature, including the Daodejing, as “profound,” I mean that I can read it many times and continually derive new meanings and insights from it. It is infinitely deep and reflects the crystalline complexity of simplicity. Profundity, in this context, is the wondrous and miraculous resonance of the world, the presence of infinite possibility. Beholding (guan 觀) the world through miao involves the childlike sense of wonder that Plato mentions in the Theaetetus. Miao is apprehended through focusing on the big picture, the totality of possibility, which is the tiandi or “world as a whole” mentioned in line three. The totality of this manifold is refracted by 1) the act of naming, an act which dissects or carves up and freezes the organismic flow of change and experience (much like taking a still photograph of a flowing river); and 2) the presence of desire or preference, which focuses our attention so that we overlook many of the world’s implicit possibilities. Miao, then, is an attitude of enhanced appreciation for possibility. It is when we allow the world to resonate in all its uncertain possibility that we can best appreciate the subtle nature of the world. It is in this sense, that the Daodejing encourages us to become “mature by once again becoming childlike.” “Childlike,” here, refers to the child’s imaginative ability to see many possibilities, like the uncarved block of wood which has infinite potential because it hasn’t yet taken on a specific form. Furthermore, we see in these two lines the “Gestalt” aspects of the text. That is, we are being encouraged to become flexible enough to shift our focus from figure to ground, so to speak, and back again effortlessly. This is seen here, where non-­ preferential apprehension yields an open, comprehensive understanding of the world and one’s place in it; and preferential apprehension results in seeing the distinctions between things, seeing things as separate, individual, and discrete. Both types of apprehension are useful, depending on the situation, and each grounds the other, in this very Gestalt way: it is as against the other that each comes into its own being. We also see this in chapter 11 where the absent or intangible (wu) is set off against the present or tangible (you), and we are encouraged to see them as both being necessary for the presencing of entities. Here is Wang Bi’s commentary on the above: 妙者, 微之極也。萬物始於微而 後成, 始於無而後生。故常無欲空虛, 可以觀其始物之妙 (Lou 1999: 1). Translations of Wang Bi’s commentary are: (RL) Subtlety is the absolute degree of minuteness. As the myriad things reach completion only after originating in minuteness, so they are born only after originating in nothingness. Thus, always be without desire and remain empty, so that you can see the subtlety with which things originate (Lynn 1999: 51).

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The first three translations all render the term ji 極 as “absolute,” but this again seems arbitrary. In most cases, the term refers to an extreme of some kind, but to introduce the idea of “absolutes” is the result of a translator choice, which imposes an entire metaphysics onto the text. My translation understands miao as the expanded sense of possibility which ensues from overcoming preferences. Subtlety involves making fine distinctions. The more open-minded and non-preferential we are, the more possibilities and distinctions we will see, which will make it possible to effect the optimal outcome. The manifold of which I speak in my translation is the most diverse array of possibilities, which, as chaos theory also indicates, resolves into obscurity. If I take a blank piece of paper, its surface is homogeneous. If I draw a line down the center, I have introduced some measure of heterogeneity. Then I draw a line perpendicular to the first, and I have introduced even more heterogeneity. But if I continue to draw lines, eventually the whole sheet of paper becomes black, which thus resolves back into homogeneity. So the manifold of infinite possibility is wu 無 in the sense that it is no-thing—no particular or distinguishable thing. So the diverse entities “originate” from the manifold as they coagulate or clot into ostensible entities that are distinguishable though not entirely distinct. It leads to logical regress to suggest that some hypothetical “being” originates in some kind of “non-being.” If there is a beginning, in what did the beginning begin? The critique starts to sound more like Zhuangzi than Laozi, but the idea of being emerging from non-being is still an arbitrary and problematic way to read the text, where there are more coherent alternatives available, such as “particular things resolve out of (and back into) the manifold of no-particular-things.” This can also be described as potential energy converting to kinetic energy, like the uncarved block, or the block of ice on the verge of melting. Laozi continues: 常有欲, 以觀其徼. These are the translations: (RL) And always have desire so as to see their ends (Lynn 1999: 51). (AR) And let us always have desires, so we may see the outcome (Rump and Chan 1979: 2). (RW) While they [the ten thousand kinds of entities] are constantly with desires, one has something by means of which to perceive it’s [the ultimate principle’s] limiting (Wagner 2003: 121). (AF) Consistently have preferences in order to observe the particulars.

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Again, the text seems to give each perspective its due, and indicates that the goal is a balance between the miao and the jiao. To exclusively apprehend miao would be to become intoxicated or overwhelmed with possibility. This would be obscurity, not clarity (ming 明, a term found frequently throughout the Daodejing). This obscurity is a condition which is not conducive to survival and adaptation. One needs to be aware, not unconscious, to operate most effectively. Rather, it seems the goal is to be able to zoom out and see the full range of possibility, and then come back down to earth to put the optimal particular possibility into practice. It is not at all clear what “ultimate principle” it is to which Wagner is referring. He seems to make it much more complicated than it needs to be. Wang Bi writes: 徼, 歸終也。凡有之為利, 必以無為用; 欲之所本, 適道而後 濟。故常有欲, 可以觀其終物之徼也 (Lou 1999: 2). Translations of Wang’s commentary are: (RL) Jiao here means the ends to which things revert. If anything that exists is to be of benefit, it must function out of nothing. Only when desire is rooted in such a way that it is in accord with the Dao will it prove beneficial. Thus, always have such desire so that you can see those ends to which things finally arrive (Lynn 1999: 52). (AR) Outcome means to come to an end. In general, if being is to be useful, it has to function through non-being. Where a desire has roots, these must be in accord with Tao before they come into realization. Thus, if we always have desire, we can observe the outcome of things to the very end (Rump and Chan 1979: 2). (RW) “Limit” means the final point to which [entities] return/relate back. Generally speaking, for entities to be beneficial, they have to get their usefulness from negativity; that on which desires are based will only be satisfied as a consequence of adapting to the Way. That is why, “while they are constantly with desires,” it is possible “by means of this to perceive the limiting” [in which] it finalizes entities (Wagner 2003: 121). (AF) “Particular” means “final expression.” Everything that is considered beneficial about what is present necessarily functions by means of absence. When the root of preference is in accordance with dao, then subsequently everything works itself out. Therefore, “consistently have preferences in order to observe the particulars.”

Lynn and Rump both once again make this about “being” and “non-being.” Wagner uses “negativity” for wu, but doesn’t clearly compare it to any equivalent term for you. In the process reading, the jiao is the concresced or concretized particular, as opposed to the full range of possibilities which is described as miao. This is consistent with modern quantum mechanical models, in which the range of probabilities of potential states is represented by a set of wave functions, all of which, in some mathematical sense at least, coexist until an observation is made, at which point all the probability wave functions but one collapse to zero, and the remaining probability function expands to one hundred per cent. This is the point of the process translation of the first line as referring to miao concrescing into a “final expression,” which is jiao. The contrast between you and wu again seems to make more sense when understood as presence and absence than some ostensible “being and non-being.” The commentary is clearly a reference to Daodejing chapter 11, which goes into detail about the relative usefulness of absence and the necessary relation between absence and presence. As the text emphasizes many times, all of these distinctions are only relative opposites like left and right—each implies the other. It is really not at all clear what sense it makes to say that things “function out of nothing.” If we are

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truly talking about a nothing, what in it is capable of function? Reading it this way imposes the abstract ontological perspective which ends up rendering the text incoherent. Chapter 1 ends with the following: 此兩者同出而異名, 同謂之玄, 玄之又 玄, 眾妙之門. This has been translated as: (RL) These two emerge together but have different names. Together, we refer to them as mystery: the mystery upon mystery and gateway of all subtleties (Lynn 1999: 52). (AR) The two are the same, but after they are produced, they have different names. They both may be called mystery. Mystery and more mystery. The door of all subtleties (Rump and Chan 1979: 2). (RW) Both emerge from a common [origin] but they have different names. Their common [origin] [I] designate as the Dark, the Dark-and-Dark-Again. It is the door [from which] the many and the subtle [emerge] (Wagner 2003: 122). (AF) These pairs emerge simultaneously and yet are differently designated. Their simultaneity is described as mysterious. Mystery and then more mystery: the gateway to all wonder.

Here again the line does not clearly specify the object. In the commentary below, Wang Bi identifies “these two” as the origin and the mother, but celiang zhe 此兩 者 can also more generally mean “these two” or “this pair” or “these pairs.” If we wish to single out a single pair of terms to be the object of the passage, then which pair do we choose? Dao and ming? Wuming and youming? Tiandi and wanwu? The origin and the mother? Having preferences and not-having preferences? Miao and jiao? In the absence of any particular specification, it seems reasonable to read the passage as referring to all such pairs, all pairs of relative, complementary opposites. Whether the text is referring to all pairs or, as Wang Bi indicates, a particular pair, what is said about these pairs? The text claims that they “issue forth simultaneously but are differently designated 同出而異名.” That is, each implies the other, neither can exist independently, as is indicated so thoroughly in chapter 2. And, consistent with lines 3 and 4, here we see that these pairs emerge out of the same manifold as everything else, and at least in some sense become truly distinguished as discrete entities only through the act of designating them. To have a ming or name, as argued earlier, is be distinguished or designated in some way, to be distinct and knowable, because ming refers to that by means of which something comes to be known as distinct from other things. The problem with language is that, since there are separate words for things, we tend to be seduced into thinking that there are separate things which correspond to those words. The Daoist vision, as expressed in the Daodejing, is one of coordination and integration into a comprehensive experience of the world. Everything is related to all other things in an immediate and substantial way. Thus, the act of singling things out tends to refract the comprehensive vision of profundity, the sense of wonder, and causes us to see the world as made up of individual things. Again, sometimes it is useful to see the wonderful resonance of reality as a whole, but other times it helps to know the difference between a cobra and a candy bar. So it seems that both modes of experience need to be in the repertoire of the ideal person, available for adoption under the appropriate circumstances.

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The point of the line, then, is that although things appear to be separate, they are really embedded in a comprehensive experiential manifold, and have more possible meanings than meet the eye. They resonate with possibility, like the modern drawings of atoms, which represent electrons not as particles, but as waves of probability and possibility. Just because we can designate heads and tails doesn’t mean we are speaking of two separate coins—the head and tail of a coin require and imply each other, and are both aspects of a single coin. This is the vision of miao which resolves all dichotomies. Here the text introduces and defines a crucial term: xuan 玄, which is often translated as “mystery,” “murky,” or “darkness.” The term is used to refer to the simultaneity or mutuality (tong 同) of opposites, the pendulum-like nature of the world, the subtle resonance or quantum ambiguity of infinite possibility. The syntax is clear: “tong is described as xuan.” This can be understood as the quantum fog or haze of possibility through which one attempts to navigate in choosing from among alternative modes of action. Because of this resonance, the world is somewhat fuzzy. One who sees this almost psychedelic flowering of possibility penetrates beyond the surface of things and regards them in an infinitely more subtle fashion. Her responses are, therefore, also more finely tuned to circumstance, and reflect a broader and more richly hued spectrum of available alternatives. The result is a more sensitive and nuanced adaptation to the constraints of any particular situation, and this facilitates the most efficient mode of conduct which is elsewhere described as wei wuwei 為無為. The text concludes by emphasizing the unfathomable nature of this mystery by indicating “xuan zhi you xuan 玄之又玄”: mystery and then again further mystery. The deeper you go, the murkier it gets. The more questions you ask, the more questions you find, because each answer leads to new questions. That is, there is no end to the world’s possibilities. Here are Wang Bi’s final remarks on chapter 1: 兩者, 始與母也。同出者, 同出 於玄也。異名, 所施不可同也。在首則謂之始, 在終則謂之母。玄者, 莫默無 有也, 始, 母之所出也。不可得而名, 故不可言同名曰玄。而言同謂之玄者, 取 於不可得而謂之然也。不可得而謂之然, 則不可以定乎一玄而已。若定乎一 玄, 則是名則失之遠矣。故曰玄之又玄也。眾妙皆從玄而出, 故曰眾妙之門也 (Lou 1999: 2). (RL) The “two” are origin and mother. “Emerge together” means that they emerge together from mystery. They “have different names” because what these apply to can’t be the same. At the start, it [mystery] is referred to as “mother.” Mystery is the dark, where in silence absolutely nothing exists. It is where origin and mother come from. We cannot treat it as something to be named. Thus, the text cannot say, “together they have the same name: mystery,” but instead says, “together, we refer to them as mystery.” The reason it refers to them in this way is that there is no other way that they may be treated. Because it has to refer to them in this way, it could not just stop and restrict their meaning to the single word “mystery.” If it had restricted their meaning to the single word “mystery,” this name certainly would have been far off the mark. Thus, the text says, “mystery upon mystery.” All subtleties emerge from mystery. Thus, the text says that it is the “gateway of all subtleties” (Lynn 1999: 52).

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A. Fox (AR) “Both” means beginning and mother. “The same” and “produced” mean that together they are produced from mystery. Having different names, what applies to them cannot be the same. At the start we call them beginning and at the end we call them mother. Mystery is effacement, the silent, and non-being, from which originate beginning and mother. Since we cannot name them, we cannot say they both may be called mystery. But here they are called mystery because there is no way out but to call them so. If we call them so, then we cannot say for sure that there is only one thing that is mysterious. The being the case, names fall far short of the truth. Hence it is said, “mystery and more mystery.” All subtleties are produced from the same source and therefore it is said, “the door of all subtleties” (Rump and Chan 1979: 2–3). (RW) “Both” refers to the “beginning” and the “mother.” That they “emerge from a common [origin]” means that they equally emerge from the Dark. That they have “different names” means that what they bring about is different. [In its function] at the top, [Laozi] designates it as “the beginning.” [In its function] at the end, [Laozi] designates it as “the mother.” As to the “Dark,” it is obscure, is silent without [any] entities, is that which lets the “beginning” and the “mother” emerge. It is impossible to give a definition [for this Dark]; therefore [Laozi] cannot say “their common [source] is defined as ‘the Dark,’” but [only] says “[I] designate it as … [the Dark].” The [term] “Dark” is taken for that [aspect of the ultimate principle] that it cannot be designated as being thus [and nothing else]. Should one designate it as being thus [and nothing else] it would definitely not be permitted to define it as one [specific] Dark. If one were to define it as being one [specific] Dark and nothing else, this would be a definition, and that would be far off the mark. That is why [Laozi] says “Dark-and-Dark-Again.” As the “many” and the “subtle” both emerge from a common [origin], that is why [Laozi] says: “It is the door from which the many and the subtle [emerge]” (Wagner 2003: 122–123). (AF) The term “both of these” refers to both the origin and the mother. “They emerge simultaneously” means that they emerge at the same time from obscurity. “But they are differently designated” refers to the differences between them. What resides at the front, therefore, is called the origin. What resides at the end is thus called the mother. The obscure is dark, hidden and devoid of presence, and is the common source of the origin and the mother. If it is described as “insusceptible to designation,” this would suggest that there is a specifiable mystery. This would itself already be a designation and would, therefore, fall far short of the mark. So, the Laozi says “mystery and then more mystery.” All wonder comes from a common mystery, so it says, “the gateway to all wonder.”

Wang Bi explicitly identifies “the two” here as the origin and the mother. They emerge from the mystery, which is the quantum fog of possibility, as a consequence of the designation of the distinctions between them. They are seen as two sides of the same coin. In the process reading, these are just different ways to talk about the concrescence of reality out of possibility—either to focus on the whole or on the ostensible parts which make up the whole. Wang Bi points out that since miao refers to the simultaneity of the mother and the origin, to say that both of them emerge from xuan is to say that xuan is the portal out of which the mother and the origin emerge. But this still need not be ontologized to refer to some fundamental reality which precedes the world in a linear and monolithic sense. In fact, Wang Bi seems to be saying that attempts to identify such an entity are misguided and doomed, and he points out that even to say that you can’t say something about something is already to have said something about it. The commentary seems to emphasize that language is really the issue here.

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5  Conclusion Reading Wang Bi through a process lens rather than an ontological one results in a very different and equally, if not more, coherent presentation of his metaphysical views. Most notably, it raises serious questions about his imputed use of the term “non-being.” If we understand Wang Bi’s metaphysical interpretation of wu in a process sense, it cannot be taken to refer to an entity, that is, it cannot be taken to refer to an abstract noun. As the testimony above points out, wu has to describe something. That is why there are so many wu-compounds, such as wuwei, wuming, etc. The process reading enables us to understand wu not as some ontological entity described as “non-being” but as the undifferentiated phenomenological manifold out of which forms emerge and become present through the act of “naming.” It also avoids the necessity of positing a primordial (and logically problematic) fundamental reality from which a linear cosmology ensues. The world of ostensibly discrete entities can be seen to emerge from the cognitive manifold in a Gestalt sense, as what is present, or what something “is” (you 有), becomes articulated from what is absent, or what it “is not” (wu 無). But this process is cyclical rather than linear, as things eventually resolve back into the manifold, which means that it is arbitrary to identify either you or wu as the primordial, fundamental source of reality. Cognitive fluency is attained when attention can shift easily between figure and figure, as well as between figure and ground. This would seem to be the meaning of “wonder” (miao 妙). In this sense it refers to the capacity to zoom attention out to observe the ground or manifold of potentialities, as well as the ability to zoom back in to the figure to put the best possibility into practice. That is why wuwei is not non-action, but action that interferes least with the infinite other daos with which it interacts. This also gives us a way to understand the distinction between the “origin” (shi 始) and the “mother” (mu 母) as Wang Bi sees it. As he says above, “what resides at the front (shou 首) therefore is called the origin. What resides at the end is thus called the mother.” Both of these designations (as well as the frequently used term yi 一, or “the one”) refer to the phenomenological manifold, but when described as the impersonal origin, it refers to the manifold as a whole, or “heaven and earth” (tiandi 天地). When described as the more intimate and personal mother, it refers to the “ten thousand things” (wanwu 萬物), or the virtually infinite number of potential individual entities which resolve out of and dissolve back into the manifold. These are not two different things, just as the whole is not different from the sum of its parts. The difference is entirely one of designation. As the classic Chan Buddhist story illustrates, it is not the flag or the wind that is waving, but the mind. The distinction between the origin and the mother is simply linguistic and conceptual, and has nothing to do with the actual daoing of daos. By designating, we impose a conceptual grid onto the manifold which enables us to interact with it, but does not really define or limit the actual occurrence of events. It is like in calculus, where a curve can be represented as though it were a series of progressively short line segments approaching infinity. What is important about this metaphor is that, even though a series of increasingly short line segments may very effectively approximate the curve, it will never actually curve.

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The same is true of language. Words are like line segments which, if subtle and articulated enough, will more or less effectively approximate reality. But ultimately reality escapes being limited by our designations, which explains the text’s characteristic and ambivalent mistrust of language. Certainly, there are plenty of occasions where the Daodejing pejoratizes language, but we cannot forget that it is still using language to do so. Language is valuable and helpful up to a point, but the crude approximations of language cannot be taken as actually describing reality, which is infinitely subtle (xuan 玄). This is why it makes no sense to single out some hypothetical “eternal Dao” as being somehow uniquely ineffable. All of reality, all daos, are ineffable since no description of any process completely corresponds to reality any more than a series of still photographs, which can resemble movement, actually move. Clearly, Wang Bi plays a pivotal role in the history of the Daodejing. Whether or not he was the first, and whether or not someone else would have done it if he had not, his commentary introduces an emphasis on metaphysics. But if we understand metaphysics as the investigation of reality or the language we use to discuss and describe reality, then clearly there are more than one type of metaphysical view. In a situation much like Hans Christian Anderson’s story about the Emperor’s new clothes, it seems that the earliest attempts to find theology in the text have persisted into an almost ubiquitous assumption of ontological views of reality, with few scholars questioning the assumptions that inform such views and the resulting impositions onto the text. These views have evolved, and become more sophisticated over time, but still, the ontological bias remains. As a result, the idea that the term Dao refers to an abstract, monolithic, static, uniquely ineffable fundamental reality which is identified as “non-being” in a nominal sense has become the standard interpretation, despite the historical, linguistic, and philosophical evidence to the contrary. Translators and scholars have each followed their predecessors in imposing alien categories and attitudes on to the text. The Daodejing itself is demonstrably clearer, more coherent, and contains fewer non-sequiturs if it is read according to a process metaphysics. This chapter has demonstrated that Wang Bi’s influential commentary can be read as supporting such a view. Arguably, and this is a project for a more historically-minded scholar than I, the standard European reading is the result of reifying the concept of the ideal dao, which in a process sense is simply a hypothetical, counter-factual process which would operate in the absence of interference, and taking such a concept as more real than the concrete, actual, pluralistic, dynamic, and commonly ineffable processes which operate in spite of interference to an extent depending on the degree of tolerance demonstrated. This is done by representing the text in ways which are completely unavailable in the original language: capitalizing words, the use of the definite article, identifying singular as opposed to plural senses of terms, and so on. All of these represent anachronistic impositions of Indo-European metaphysical biases and suppositions onto a text that was produced hundreds of years before such thinking made its way to China. It does seem that the early European commentators assumed that all Asian thought was basically the same, and so it did not seem in any way inappropriate to read ancient Chinese materials as though they were produced

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by Hindu Vedantins. The process reading, which can be applied both to the text as well as Wang Bi’s commentaries, might itself also turn out to be an imposition, but even if it is, it is one which circumvents the traditional view of the text as mystical and consequently inscrutable.

Bibliography Ames, Roger and David Hall. 2003. Dao De Jing: A Philosophical Translation. New  York: Ballantine Books. Boodberg, Peter. 1957. “Philological Notes on Chapter One of the Lao Tzu.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 20.3–4: 598–618. Chan, Alan K.L. 1991. Two Visions of the Way: A Study of the Wang Pi and the Ho-shang Kung Commentaries on the Lao-tzu. Albany: State University of New York Press. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Hansen, Chad. 1992. A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought: A Philosophical Interpretation. New York: Oxford University Press. Hardy, Julia. 1998. “Influential Western Interpretations of the Tao-te-Ching.” In Livia Kohn and Michael LaFargue, eds., Lao-Tse and the Tao-te-Ching, 165–188. Albany: State University of New York Press. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1999. The Classic of the Way and Virtue: A New Translation of the Tao-te Ching of Laozi as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Rump, Ariane and Wing-Tsit Chan, trans. 1979. Commentary on the Lao-Tzu by Wang Pi. Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii. Wagner, Rudolf G. 2003. A Chinese Reading of the Daodejing: Wang Bi’s Commentary on the Laozi with Critical Text and Translation. Albany: State University of New York Press. Watson, Burton. 1964. Chuang-Tzu: Basic Writings. New York: Columbia University Press. Alan Fox  is a Professor of Asian and Comparative Philosophy and Religion in the Philosophy Department, and former Director of both the UD Honors Program and the Master of Arts in Liberal Studies Program at the University of Delaware. In 2006 he was named US Professor of the Year for the state of Delaware by the Carnegie Foundation for Advancement of Teaching and the Council for the Advancement and Support of Education. In 2012, he was named one of two National Teaching Fellows for the American Association of Philosophy Professors. He has published primarily on Chinese Buddhism and Philosophical Daoism.

Part IV

Xuanxue in the Jin Dynasty

Chapter 17

Re-envisioning the Profound Order of Dao: Pei Wei’s “Critical Discussion on the Pride of Place of Being” Alan K.L. Chan

1  Introduction Pei Wei 裴頠 (267–300 CE) played a prominent role in the political and intellectual scene of the early Jin 晉 dynasty (265–420 CE). From a privileged background, Pei Wei made his mark at the highest level of government and won considerable fame for both his command of classical learning and unrivaled skill in intellectual debate.1 In what follows, I offer a reading of Pei’s acclaimed “Critical Discussion on the Pride of Place of Being” (Chongyou lun 崇有論), or in David Knechtges’ more literal translation, “Disquisition on Esteeming the Existent.”2 The literary genre of lun 論, which was very much the medium of choice for philosophical expositions during the early medieval period of Chinese history, has been variously translated as “essay,” “discourse,” “treatise,” or “disquisition.” A lun is valued for both its philosophical rigor and literary finesse, which combine to give its measure of persuasiveness. Stripped bare, it is a formal argumentative 1  Jinshu 晉書 (History of the Jin Dynasty) [juan 35] 1982: 1041–1047. Pei Wei, styled Yimin 逸民, was the second son of Pei Xiu 裴秀 (224–271 CE), who rose to high office during the Wei 魏 dynasty (220–265 CE) and served as one of the three chief ministers during the early Jin. Pei Wei himself held the post of vice director of the imperial secretariat, and did much to reconstitute Confucian rituals and learning at court. A brief biographical note on Pei Wei can be found in Knechtges and Chang 2010: 714–715. The Pei clan was one of the most distinguished and celebrated in early medieval China. Pei Wei, unfortunately, fell on the short side of a palace power struggle and was killed in his prime. 2  Knechtges 2003: 55. Mather 1969–1970: 173, translates the title as “In Praise of Actuality.” Also see Balazs 1964: 226–254, where the Chongyou lun is rendered as “Discourse on the Pre-eminence of Existence.”

A. K. L. Chan (*) Provost Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_17

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essay, a critical discussion in written form, putting forth a particular position or point of view. In this case, the Chongyou lun sets out the reasons why the dynamic order of “being” (you 有) it invokes should be prized, accorded the pride of place, over the concept of “nothingness” or “non-being” (wu 無), in philosophical and ethical reflection. This was an audacious project, for in so doing Pei Wei took on almost the entire intellectual establishment, which at the time was enamored of the idea that any being, and existence itself, is derivative. Heaven and earth, and the myriad things and affairs, to use a common expression in traditional Chinese literature, which encapsulates the vast expanse of the world of “beings,” are ultimately all derived from a deeply profound source. According to this view, the ground of being, as it were, can only be described as nothingness or non-being, on account of its radical “otherness” or transcendence. It was during the early years of the Wei dynasty, as the Jinshu relates, when leading intellectuals such as He Yan 何晏 (d. 249 CE) and Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) established firmly the view that all beings “have their roots in nothingness,” which not only “originates things” but also “completes affairs.”3 This was warmly embraced as the key to penetrating the profound depth of Dao—the central insight of Xuanxue 玄學 philosophy and the deemed breakthrough of a new intellectual age—and this was exactly the thesis that Pei Wei sought to challenge. While the overall intent of Pei Wei’s “Critical Discussion” seems clear, it poses a number of challenges to interpretation. In particular, the meaning of “being” and its ethical implications call for clearer delineation. The Chongyou lun is carefully, passionately, and elegantly argued. It certainly qualifies as one of the finest lun of the period. It confronts a major philosophical issue in Xuanxue, and gives a good indication of the kind of robust and refined argumentation that informed what has come to be remembered as “high-minded debates” (qingtan 清談)—or “pure conversation,” as the Chinese term has been commonly translated—the distinctive form of social and intellectual exchange of the upper-class elite, where ideas were contested and which shaped thought leadership in early medieval China. The Chongyou lun merits close reading. It should not be seen as a critique of Xuanxue as such, which would place it outside the Xuanxue ambit altogether. It is not a defense of the then waning “orthodox” Confucian interpretation of the “Way” against the swelling tide of Xuanxue, but offers what it purports to be the true understanding of Dao. The goal of Xuanxue is fundamentally to explicate the meaning of Dao, which was judged to be so profound as to escape ordinary comprehension. For this reason, Dao is described as “xuan 玄,” literally the color black with dark red, connoting its apparent impenetrability. The truth of Dao may appear “dark” or “mysterious” in this sense, but it is precisely the claim of Xuanxue proponents that they can unlock that mystery.4 In this context, the Chongyou lun puts forward a rival

 Jinshu [juan 43] 1982: 1236.  Technically, the term “Xuanxue,” or “Learning in the Profound,” gained currency only from the fifth century CE and was applied to these scholars retrospectively. For a brief introduction, see my entry on “Neo-Daoism” for the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. 3 4

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Xuanxue account of the mystery of existence and in so doing, seeks to establish the correct position of the then burgeoning “Learning in the Profound.” For our ­purposes, leaving aside its literary accomplishment, the logical flow of its argument especially warrants careful attention. At the close of this analysis, I will briefly comment on its place and reception in Wei-Jin learning, and raise a couple of hermeneutical issues for further discussion.

2  The Dynamic Order of Existence The Chongyou lun opens with a series of four definitions, which set the stage for the argument that is to be developed. Thus, they are important to understanding the text as a whole. For ease of reference, I number them (1) to (4). (1) Now, it is certainly the case that the all-encompassing undifferentiated root of the multitude of things is the Dao of ultimate origins. 夫總混羣本, 宗極之道也. (2) The myriad things are differentiated by the species to which they belong, which are of qualitatively distinct kinds. 方以族異, 庶類之品也. (3) With distinguishable shapes and forms, there are then discrete living entities. 形象著分, 有生之體也. (4) The complex operation of natural transformation and mutual influences is the source of the discernible principles of existence.5 化感錯綜, 理跡之原也. The opening phrase, “zonghun qunben 總混羣本” has given rise to diverse interpretation. The noun phrase “qunben” has been taken to mean, for example, the totality of beings, the sum total of all there is. As such, the text is basically saying that the ultimate Dao is none other than the world of beings itself.6 “Zonghun” has been understood in a verbal sense, and the opening sentence as a whole, in the sense that the ultimate Dao refers to the “original substance” (benti 本體) that “encompasses” or subsumes (zongkuo 總括) all existent things.7 According to Mou Zongsan, to cite

5  Translations are my own, except where otherwise stated. The text of the Chongyou lun is taken from Jinshu [juan 35], 1982: 1044–1047. The translation offered here is more concerned with clarity of interpretation than literal correspondence. 6  This is, for example, how Li Zhonghua 李中華 has read it: “整個萬有本身就是最根本的道.” See Li 1998: 522. Li is also of the view that Pei Wei should be approached as a defender of Confucianism and not as a Xuanxue scholar; see Li 1998: 515. Also see Xu et al. 1989: 280. 7  See Yu 1987: 41. See also Yu 2004: 336.

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but one more example, the author is only making an epistemological point here: “Drawing the myriad things together and searching for their root, this is the way to establish ultimate origins.”8 The diversity of opinion on this opening passage is indicative of the difficulty the Chongyou lun presents to the modern reader. There seems little reason apart from stylistic preference to collapse “ben 本” with “qun 羣” into a general reference to the totality of all beings. Elsewhere in the text, the phrase “qunsheng 羣生” is used to refer to the latter. If we take the word ben, the roots of a plant, as a metaphor for the origin of all things, then “zonghun 總混” should be understood as a qualifier or defining feature, and not as a compound verb, which is to say that the root of all beings is itself completely undifferentiated. Differentiation arises with the appearance of species or more generally natural kinds. This seems to be the starting point of (2). Pei Wei is probably alluding to the well-known statement in the Yijing 易經 (Xici A 繫辭上): “Phenomena are grouped together by categories; things are differentiated by their kinds 方以類聚, 物以羣分.”9 Nevertheless, the text may seem confusing as it makes use of a number of characters—“fang 方,” “zu 族,” “shu 庶,” “lei 類,” “pin 品”—which all convey the general sense of a group, category or kind, referring to the multitude of things. The word fang is often difficult to translate, but here it would be an instance of over-translation if one further distinguishes between fang and lei (kinds of things) or shu lei (the many kinds of things); rather, the focal point of discussion is that natural kinds are constituted by distinct qualities. This is driven home by the word pin, which here carries the extended meaning of certain qualities, attributes, or capacities. The distinction between pin and zu (species, groups) may be overlooked easily; but it serves an important function in the argument and is attested in the text, as we shall see in a moment. From an undifferentiated source to differentiated kinds each with distinct qualities, a sequential formulation emerges. The third definition (3) then drills down further to the level of individual living things. Finally, having asserted if not established that the creative process develops from an undifferentiated source to fully differentiated beings with varying qualities, Pei Wei makes the point that the world of phenomena operates through complex processes of natural transformation, dependencies and mutual influences, the discernible “traces” (ji 跡) of which demonstrate that they follow certain patterns, laws, or principles (li 理). The succinctness of this opening argument is truly remarkable; more importantly, it establishes a clear metaphysical ground for the ethical and political argument that is to follow. Although it is not specified, given the intimation that the multitude of beings could be understood in terms of their different qualities or capacities, one might anticipate that human affairs would come into the picture in Pei Wei’s critical discussion.

 Mou 1993: 362.  See Lynn 1994: 47; Chan 1973: 265.

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The text continues: Now, as it is because of different qualities that there comes to be distinct species or kinds of things, it follows that what they have been endowed with is inherently partial. What is partial is not self-sufficient. Thus, they are dependent on external resources (materials or conditions) for their being. For this reason, existence can be fathomed, and this is what is meant by the term “principle.” Where principle (in the sense defined here) comes to be embodied, this is what is meant by “being.” What beings require for their existence is what is meant by “resource” (zi 資). When such resources are appropriately combined, this is what is meant by “fitting” or “right” (yi 宜). All living things seek the optimal conditions for their existence, and this is what is meant by “proper natural condition or tendency” (qing 情).

夫品而為族, 則所稟者偏, 偏無自足, 故憑乎外資。是以生而可尋, 所謂理也。理之 所體, 所謂有也。有之所須, 所謂資也。資有攸合, 所謂宜也。擇乎厥宜, 所謂情也.

“Being” is not mere existence, the Chongyou lun now asserts. The order of the Dao-engendered world is more complex. Rather, being is informed by certain qualities that follow an inherent logic of operation. In the case of humankind, such naturally endowed qualities would include physical capacity, intelligence, and affective tendencies. Though of the same kind, they may be of different degrees; regardless of their richness or strength, they are “partial” (pian 偏)—as contrasted with something that is absolutely full and complete—and hence not self-sufficient. To Pei Wei’s contemporaries, this would not be a surprising assertion, for the question of a person’s “capacity” (cai 才), especially whether it is inborn or acquired through learning and effort, or both, formed an important topic in Xuanxue debates.10 The fulfillment of these qualities, however, and this is the more important point, depends on external conditions and influences, which refer to not only material resources but also interaction with other beings and the environment. This brings into view a dynamic, relational or intersubjective dimension in the definition of being. Because existence requires external support, beings cannot but be predisposed to seek the optimal conditions for their flourishing. This is the fuller meaning of “principle,” extending beyond the constitution of being to relationships and interactions. There is no reference to the transformation of Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 from a primordial qi 氣 energy source, as the audience then might expect to find in a critical discussion on the generation of beings. There is no mention of “human nature” (xing 性). Yet, in a few sentences, a logically compelling case begins to emerge. On this premise, Pei Wei shifts focus to the ethical realm. Although individuals may pursue different roles in life—whether they choose to serve in public office or opt for a life of reclusion (chuchu yi ye 出處異業), as the text puts it—because they are of the same kind and thus partake of the same qualities in varying degrees, and given that such qualities, including “consciousness and intelligence” (shizhi 識智), are governed by the laws of natural transformation and mutual influences, “they cannot but be united in their native tendency to preserve life and maintain the optimal conditions for existence 所以寶生存宜, 其情一也.”

 On this topic, see Chan 2004: 143–184. The debate is crucially related to the understanding of the being of the ideal “sage,” and whether only sages could bring about the reign of “great peace.”

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This, then, is the fundamental human condition, according to Pei Wei. The word qing 情 here extends beyond human affectivity to refer to the perceived truth of the matter. There is a certain order to the world that should be recognized. Before drawing out the ethical implications, however, Pei Wei adds: “The many principles coexist and bring no harm; thus the valuable and the lowly appear. Loss and gain stem from their interaction; thus signs of good and bad fortune become visible 眾理並而 無害, 故貴賤形焉。失得由乎所接, 故吉凶兆焉.” This seems puzzling, as the reference to value distinctions appears to break up the logical flow and reads like a conventional account of determinism arising from the transformation of Yin and Yang. Nevertheless, assuming that the text is not out of place due to an error in transmission, Pei Wei may be concerned with two issues here. First, the argument presented so far may be taken to depict a state of nature in which only the fittest would survive. As each strives to enhance the conditions for their own existence, the well-being of the larger whole may be threatened, an outcome which neither Pei Wei nor his contemporaries would find agreeable. Against this possible interpretation, there is then a need to explain why plurality does not constitute any such threat. Furthermore, the reference to “principle” rather than “things” here opens up a space for ethical intervention, for the former has been defined in terms of not just inborn tendencies but also mutual influences and dependencies, which come into play as individual beings interact with one another and the environment at large. In other words, the world in its perceived natural state is governed by principles that deliver optimal survival conditions, which entail not only differentiation but also some degree of cooperative coexistence. There is a certain structure to the inherent order of the universe, involving relational roles and responsibilities, as the text will argue more fully. Still, what needs to be recognized also is that the logic of preserving life and maintaining the right conditions requires judicious human intervention. This sets up the ethical argument that follows: For this reason, men of moral worth and learning realize that desire cannot be eradicated, but that there is an optimal way in dealing with things and affairs. They observe carefully the ways in which things and affairs come and go (operate and change), and search within (their own heart for the right response) and come to decide the proper course of action. In all their dealings, they only make use of the ways of heaven and share with the bounties of the earth; they dedicate themselves fully to their tasks and enjoy the fruits of their labor only afterward. They abide by humaneness and humility, uphold themselves with respectful dignity and frugal simplicity, take the lead in acting with conscientiousness and trustworthiness, and conduct themselves with due regard and consideration for others. They do not aim to over-achieve, nor do they overact in managing affairs. In this way, they are able to accomplish much that is of benefit! Therefore, the key to sound governance is to extend this to the utmost, bring peace and order to the multitude of beings, and set a model for them and an example for posterity. This, indeed, is the basis on which the sage governs.

是以賢人君子, 知欲不可絕, 而交物有會。觀乎往復, 稽中定務。惟夫用天之道, 分地之利, 躬其力任, 勞而後饗。居以仁順, 守以恭儉, 率以忠信, 行以敬讓, 志無 盈求, 事無過用, 乃可濟乎! 故大建厥極, 綏理群生, 訓物垂範, 於是乎在, 斯則 聖人為政之由也.

Given the dynamic understanding of being, Pei Wei would have to resist any argument that affirms the possibility of emptying completely the human heart or

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mind of desire, which arises naturally from responding to and interacting with the external world. However, it is equally clear that if people indulge in excesses and abuse others, problems will inevitably arise (若乃淫抗陵肆, 則危害萌矣). Unbridled desire jeopardizes the delicate balance of the natural and social environment, and thus constitutes a catalyst for sociopolitical disorder (故欲衍則速患). “When the proper condition is lost, resentment abounds 情佚則怨博”; that is, when the optimal conditions for the flourishing of beings are disrupted, typically brought about by unchecked desire and emotions, social disharmony will be quick to follow. Of particular relevance to the ruling class is that unrestrained possessiveness, be it of power or wealth, will invariably invite adversarial responses robbing them of precisely what they wish to possess (擅恣則興攻, 專利則延寇). In sum, ironically, “it can be said that people end up losing life by enriching it”; that is to say, they end up with a deficit in their life’s account, with diminished conditions for optimal existence, by desiring to augment it (可謂以厚生而失生者也). Perhaps it is understandable that alarmed by the potential destruction that such conflicts would bring, as Pei Wei goes on to explain, many scholars who lack understanding would in their attempts to locate the underlying causes, come to realize the problems that are inherent in a world given to partiality and the merit of a simpler life not driven by desire (悠悠之徒, 駭乎若茲之釁, 而尋艱爭所緣; 察夫偏質有 弊, 而睹簡損之善). “Consequently, they began to advocate certain views that privilege nothingness or non-being and develop intellectual positions that denigrate being 遂闡貴無之議, 而建賤有之論.” Little did they know that in so doing, they would be adding to the problem that they were hoping to solve. The reason is simple, according to Pei Wei. Once we embark on an intellectual path that devalues the actual, existent realm of beings, we would also be undermining the complex workings that bind society and the environment together, and enable the flourishing of humankind. On this path, we would be committed logically to depreciating forms and structures, including ethical norms and sociopolitical constructs, which in turn cannot but result in serious neglect of institutions, controls or safeguards, and rituals (賤有則必外形, 外形則必遺制, 遺制則必忽防, 忽防則必忘禮). “If institutions and rituals are not preserved 禮制弗存,” as Pei Wei emphatically declares, “there will be nothing by which to govern 則無以為政矣.” To reinforce the argument, Pei Wei draws on an analogy: “The way in which the people follow their leaders is like water dwelling in a vessel 眾之從上, 猶水之居 器也.” This is interesting and rather unusual, for ordinarily in articulating the ruler-­ subject relationship, one would expect a narrative to the effect that the people would follow the moral example set by those in power. The ruler who governs with virtue, indeed, as Confucius is reported to have said, may be likened to the pole star and will enjoy the support of everyone around him without fail (Analects 2.1). If the ruler upholds himself with moral rectitude, as the Lunyu 論語 also suggests, the people will submit to his rule even without any edicts or commands (Analects 13.6). Nevertheless, Pei Wei’s point is that people require structure and stability to flourish, not only in terms of a secure environment but also a “habitus” that enables personal fulfillment. When the people find fulfillment in what they do, they would

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consider the world to be as it should be (故兆庶之情, 信於所習; 習則心服其業, 業服則謂之理然). For this reason, political leaders must take great care in establishing and propagating the right norms, policies, laws, and other aspects of government, so that the people would inhabit properly their assigned roles. These latter would include clearly demarcated occupational roles, which in early medieval China already settled into the four categories of public service, farming, artisanship, and trade (是以 君人必慎所教, 班其政刑一切之務, 分宅百姓, 各授四職). For the optimal conditions to prevail, it is paramount that the common people fully endorse, identify with, and subscribe to the norms, laws and rituals of the land without coercion (能令稟命 之者不肅而安, 忽然忘異, 莫有遷志). Much hinges on proper instruction and governance, of course, but the larger point remains that once the phenomenal world is understood in terms of principles, and principles in terms of processes and structures that regulate human interaction, an ethical blueprint unfolds. The text then elaborates, with passion and rhetorical flourish, on the reasons why the philosophy of nothingness or non-being became prevalent, and the undesirable consequences that ensued: It is indeed true that excessive desire may be diminished, but it is certainly not the case that beings then should be purged (of their properties). Functions that exceed their limits may be regulated, but it does not follow that nothingness may then be considered the highest value. The fact is that those who are gifted in debate enumerated in detail the problems that attend the world of forms, and glorified the fineness of emptiness or nothingness. The reason for the existence of material things can be attested based on evidence, but the truth of empty nothingness can hardly be verified. Clever argumentative writings are pleasing to the audience, and words that resemble reality are more than sufficient to cause doubt. The audience thus became totally befuddled and came under the spell of their established views. Although there were quite a few who disagreed with them, they were unable to overcome them with their argument and were defeated at their own game. In the end, they too conceded that the reasoning in support of vacuity or nothingness truly could not be overturned. The singing attracted a chorus (i.e., to use an analogy), and after repeated performances there was no turning back. Consequently, now people look down on the task of bringing order to the world, and deride the value of service to society. They extol those who pursue idle leisure and disparage worthy individuals who devote themselves to solving real issues. Fame and profit are topmost on the minds of men. Driven by these, those who are accomplished in letters spread their words, and those who are not good with words praise their idea, such that the majority of people are under their influence. Today, when someone proposes a thesis based on vacuity or nothingness, he will be regarded as profound and marvelous. When an official takes little interest in his work, he will be regarded as lofty and refined. When someone disregards integrity and morals in his behavior, he will be regarded as broad-minded and enlightened. Thus, work ethic declines ever more. Because of this, among the unscrupulous, some would contravene the rituals for both auspicious occasions and mourning, disregard the proper expression of conduct and appearance, throw into the gutters the order between the young and the old, or confound the distinctions based on status. Those who are in the extreme would even take to baring themselves in nudity, speak or laugh out of turn oblivious to what is appropriate, and act with unfeeling as a sign of their greatness. The conduct of scholars sinks ever lower indeed.11

11

 Cf. Knechtges 2003: 55–56; Mather 1969–1970: 173.

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夫盈欲可損而未可絕有也, 過用可節而未可謂無貴也。蓋有講言之具者, 深列有 形之故[累],12 盛稱空無之美。形器之故有徵, 空無之義難檢。辯巧之文可悅, 似 象之言足惑。眾聽眩焉, 溺其成說。雖頗有異此心者, 辭不獲濟, 屈於所狎, 因謂 虛無之理, 誠不可蓋。唱而有和, 多往弗反。遂薄綜世之務, 賤功烈之用, 高浮游 之業, 埤經實之賢。人情所殉, 篤夫名利。於是文者衍其辭, 訥者讚其旨, 染其眾 也。是以立言藉於虛無, 謂之玄妙; 處官不親所司, 謂之雅遠; 奉身散其廉操, 謂之 曠達。故砥礪之風, 彌以陵遲。放者因斯, 或悖吉凶之禮, 而忽容止之表, 瀆棄長 幼之序, 混漫貴賤之級。其甚者至於裸裎, 言笑忘宜, 以不惜為弘, 士行又虧矣.

It has been observed that Pei Wei’s critique is well supported by other contemporary writings such as Gan Bao’s 干寶 (d. 336 CE) “Critical Summative Discussion of the Annals of the Jin Dynasty (Jin Ji Zong lun 晉紀總論).13 Those in public office would consider their work too mundane or even vulgar as compared with the lofty pursuit of the philosophy of nothingness, and high-minded scholars would deride conventional morality as shackles imposed by tradition that serve only to alienate them from their true selves. Ruan Ji’s 阮籍 (210–263 CE) “unorthodox” behavior and disdain for ritual propriety is often cited in this regard. Like his contemporaries, Pei Wei was obviously aware that the champions of nothingness or non-being found inspiration from Laozi and Zhuangzi. For example, Wang Yan 王衍 (256–311 CE), one of the leaders of the intelligentsia at the time, is said to have devoted his time to “only talking about Laozi and Zhuangzi.”14 Any disquisition on the philosophical primacy of “being” in this context cannot avoid addressing the place of these Daoist classics. The Chongyou lun offers an assessment of Laozi: Laozi composed the text in five thousand characters, discerningly pinpointing the problems of being mired in foul desire and highlighting the meaning of quietude and oneness, so as to enable the people to be free from doubts and find peace. His words are in agreement with the message that we find in the hexagrams “sun” (to decrease), “qian” (to be humble) “gen” (to stop), and “jie” (to regulate) in the Yijing. However, the idea of (embracing) oneness in quietude so as to secure the roots of one’s being has nothing to do with vacuity or nothingness. The hexagrams “sun,” “gen” and others like them bring out one aspect of the way of the accomplished gentleman; it is not the case that the core of the Yijing is concerned with safeguarding an original nothingness.15 Looking at Laozi’s book, although it is erudite and well founded, it states that “being is born of nothingness,” thereby rendering vacuity its main theme and establishing a doctrine of its own (not shared by the other Classics). What could be the reason for this?

老子既著五千之文, 表摭穢雜之弊, 甄舉靜一之義, 有以令人釋然自夷, 合於易之 損, 謙, 艮, 節之旨。而靜一守本, 無虛無之謂也。損艮之屬, 蓋君子之一道, 非易

 In place of the word “gu 故,” “lei 累,” in square brackets, may be preferred, but the proposed emendation would not affect interpretation significantly; see Jinshu [juan 35] 1982: 1053n4. 13  In Wenxuan 文選 (Selections of Refined Literature) [juan 49] 1997: 2186. Another example is found in the Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語: “Celebrated scholars need not have special talent; so long as they do not engage in current affairs, indulge in drinking, and can recite the Lisao 離騷 (or Encountering Sorrow by Qu Yuan), they can be called a celebrated scholar!” See Yang 1992: 575; Mather 1976: 391. 14  Jinshu [juan 43] 1982: 1236. 15  Jinshu [juan 35] 1982: 1053n5 points out the possibility of minor textual corruption here, in which case the text may be translated more generally: “it does not represent the core teaching of the Yijing.” 12

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之所以為體守本無也。觀老子之書雖博有所經, 而云有生於無, 以虛為主, 偏立 一家之辭, 豈有以而然哉?

There is indeed a good reason for this, which refocuses attention on the existential burden of desire. Pei Wei continues: Having been given life, human beings take preserving life as their primary concern. Attaining this goal rests on carefully attending to the ways in which one interacts with the world. If one has a taste for activities that are detrimental to proper flourishing, then the woe of drowning in one’s desire will surely arise. If one embraces the branch tips and forgets the roots, then the true way of heaven will be extinguished. Thus, it is indeed the case that the ways in which we act and interact are the key to survival and extinction.

人之既生, 以保生為全。全之所階, 以順感為務。若味近以虧業, 則沈溺之釁興; 懷末以忘本, 則天理之真滅。故動之所交, 存亡之會也.

The next part of the text is difficult. It begins with what appears to be a radical negation: “Being is not being, and nothingness is not nothingness 夫有非有, 於無非無.” However, taken in context, especially in the light of its concluding statement, it seems more likely to be concerned with demarcating the intended meaning of the Daodejing 道德經, which while championing simplicity and quietude, is nonetheless not postulating a concept of metaphysical nothingness or non-existent reality: Now, as far as being is concerned, (the problem of) being (ensnared by desire) must be critically addressed. As for the concept of nothingness, it must be put right that it does not mean (literally) nothing or non-existence. In this way, making clear that nothingness does not signify abstract non-being or non-existence, and (the discussion of) being is not about (affirming the excesses of) being, Laozi thus fleshed out the problem of extending and giving in completely to the power of desire, and composed his work on valuing nothingness. His aim was to eradicate the grave error (of indulging in desire) that he (so forcefully) repudiated, and to maintain the ideal balance that defines what he considered to be the highest good. (The Daodejing thus) seeks to reclaim the wandering minds of men from their overindulgences, and bring back to their hearts that which is pure and correct.

夫 [於] 有非有, 於無非無; 於無非無, 於有非有。是以申縱播之累, 而著貴無之 文。將以絕所非之盈謬, 存大善之中節, 收流遁於既過, 反澄正于胸懷.16

In this light, to Pei Wei, the intent of the Daodejing should be clear, and its hermeneutical strategy, understandable: It quite fittingly, then, foregrounds nothingness in framing its discourse, but its intent is trained at complete fulfillment of being (ensuring the optimal conditions for the flourishing of all under heaven). Thus, (in chapter 19 of the current version of the Daodejing) it states that “what has been written is not sufficient.” If this is the case, then the remarks on nothingness are but a means to an end, an expedient expression. If one were to say that nothingness forms its ultimate concern, then it would be a gravely unjust one-sided interpretation.

16  Jinshu [juan 35] 1982: 1054n7 suggests that the word yu 於, in square brackets, may have been omitted due to scribal error. As one could well imagine, there are various interpretations of this passage. For example, Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 argues that the text should be amended and punctuated differently, as follows: “夫有, 非有於無, 非有。於無, 非無於有, 非無.” This should be understood in the sense that you and wu are relative terms. Without the concept of “non-being,” “being” has no meaning; conversely, without you as its opposite, wu also has no meaning. Feng also believes that this passage formed originally a part of the text’s conclusion and was mistakenly placed here by later editors of the Chongyou lun. See Feng 1986: 12.

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宜其以無為辭, 而旨在全有, 故其辭曰以為文不足。若斯, 則是所寄之塗, 一方之 言也。若謂至理信以無為宗, 則偏而害當矣.

There were scholars in the past, of course, who sensed that the discourse on nothingness did not quite hit the mark. In this regard, Xunzi 荀子 (third-century BCE), Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 BCE-18 CE), and Ban Gu 班固 (32–92 CE) are singled out by Pei Wei for attention, though the former two are also said to have some partial leanings toward it (猶偏有所許). Nevertheless, they were unable to stem the tide and the talk of vacuity or nothingness grew from strength to strength (虛無之言, 日 以廣衍), so much so that virtually every topic on the intellectual agenda, from the loftiest such as creation and natural transformation to all manners of human affairs, came under its influence (上及造化, 下被萬事, 莫不貴無). Any view to the contrary, arguing for the place of “being” in understanding the profound meaning of Dao, would be subjected to intense scorn and attacks. Consequently, few in the intellectual and scholarly community did not yield to its sway. Indeed, as Pei Wei confesses, “I was deeply alarmed and ventured to share my views; yet, those who criticized me were many 頠用矍然, 申其所懷, 而攻者盈集.” Fortunately for us, at the urging of a “guest,” who pointed out that anything less than a rigorous critique of the philosophy of nothingness would be unable to put the intellectual world back on an even keel, Pei Wei persisted. With due modesty, and reaching out to the audience in a personal way, as an accomplished lun should do, Pei Wei explained that in putting his critical reflections to brush, he sought not to gain fame, but only to contribute in a small way to the great cause of truth. However inadequate, he adds, this would still bring benefit to the world, at a time when there was so much confusion. In conclusion, then, Pei Wei writes: As a matter of fact, absolute nothingness has nothing with or by which it can generate anything. Thus, what came into being at the beginning can only have come into being on its own. That which is so self-generated necessarily then embodies being; as such, (it follows that) if being is left out or absent, existence will also be lost. Existence is always wholly defined by being; as such, vacuity or nothingness is but, so to speak, what is left out of being.

夫至無者無以能生, 故始生者自生也。自生而必體有, 則有遺而生虧矣。生以有為 已分, 則虛無是有之所謂遺者也.

Conceptually, then, nothingness plays no role in the generative process. It signifies but the absence of being. There may be room for comparison with the philosophy of Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312 CE) here, and perhaps also that of Xiang Xiu 向秀 (ca. 227–272 CE), but that would require a separate treatment (on Guo Xiang, see the chapters by Fraser and Lynn in this Companion). Ethically, the implication is that disengagement is futile and counter-productive: Thus, the cultivation of beings that already came through the process of natural transformation is not a task that can be accomplished by any function of nothingness. In the same way, to bring order to the existent multitude that already embody being is not something that can be effected by inaction.

故養既化之有, 非無用之所能全也; 理既有之眾, 非無為之所能循也.

The concept of wuwei 無為, action not driven by undue or selfish desire, like that of “nothingness,” requires proper understanding. The implied criticism is that it, too, has been misunderstood as “inaction” by those who advocate the value of

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nothingness. In the final analysis, the philosophy of nothingness is logically flawed, and on the practical level, incapable of producing any positive results: The mind is not the same as any external affair, but the management of affairs must stem from the mind. Surely, it cannot be inferred that because the management of affairs is other than the affairs themselves, therefore, the mind is nothing. The craftsman is not the same as any vessel, but the production of vessels must require the work of a craftsman. Surely, it cannot be inferred that because the production of vessels is other than the vessels themselves, therefore, the craftsman does not exist. Thus, (in conclusion) if one wishes to get fish from the deep, one will not be able to catch them by lying on one’s back in repose. To bring down birds perching on a high wall, it cannot be achieved by folding one’s arms in tranquility. Understanding how the bow and bait should be used, this is not something that can be realized without knowledge. Viewed from this perspective, that which brings benefits to existent beings can only be active agents themselves. How can the concept of vacuity or nothingness possibly benefit the multitude of living things that already possess being (and as such are engaged with the world)?

心非事也, 而制事必由於心。然不可以制事以非事, 謂心為無也。匠非器也, 而 制器必須於匠。然不可以制器以非器, 謂匠非有也。是以欲收重泉之鱗, 非偃息之 所能獲也。 隕高墉之禽, 非靜拱之所能捷也。審投弦餌之用, 非無知之所能覽 也。由此而觀, 濟有者皆有也, 虛無奚益於已有之群生哉!

3  “ Esteeming Being” and “Valuing Nothingness”: Chongyou lun in Wei-Jin Learning The language of “being” and “nothingness” is awkward in modern English, but it represents a defining feature of early medieval Chinese discourse. Whereas late Eastern Han lun-essays such as Yan Du’s 延篤 (d. 167 CE) “Critical Discussion on the Relationship between Humaneness and Filial Piety” (Ren Xiao lun 仁孝論) or Liu Liang’s 劉梁 (d. ca. 180 CE) “Critical Essay Distinguishing the Meaning of Harmony and Sameness” (Bian He Tong lun 辯和同論) still show little sign of interest in this new philosophical language,17 “being” and “nothingness” came to occupy a vital place in the Chinese intellectual arena from the third century CE. The writings of He Yan and Wang Bi set a new standard. As the Jinshu recalls: “During the Zhengshi reign era (240–249 CE) of the Wei dynasty, He Yan, Wang Bi and others returned to and built on the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and put forward arguments that heaven and earth and the ten thousand things all have their roots in nothingness … Wang Yan 王衍 (256–311 CE) set great store by them. Only Pei Wei considered them to be false and wrote an essay criticizing (Wang Yan’s) position.”18 While the language of “being” and “nothingness” became ubiquitous, the more important point is that it was subject to different interpretation. Though you and wu in this context usually figure as abstract nouns, it cannot be assumed that they have  Both these essays are preserved in the Hou Hanshu 後漢書 [juan 64] 1982: 2104–2105 and juan 80B: 2635–2636, respectively. 18  Jinshu [juan 43] 1982: 1236. 17

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been understood in the same way by different authors. In the Chongyou lun, the concept of wu is presented simply as the absence of being. It functions essentially as a foil, which enables the reader to better appreciate the discussion of you. The meaning of you, on the other hand, is presented with a great deal of care and nuance. It is not to be reduced to biological being. Even the idea that beings are endowed with an inborn nature that harbors not only intellectual and affective tendencies but also moral capacity does not capture fully the meaning of you. This is because being is always being in the world, and as such is dependent on and subject to the influences of external conditions. As Pei Wei points out at the start of the essay, “the complex operation of natural transformation (hua 化) and mutual influences (gan 感)” marks the way in which nature and society operate. Without pressing the point, this may call to mind the work on complex adaptive systems in modern science. In any case, this is a dynamic view of you, which truly distinguishes Pei Wei’s contribution. At the heart of this depiction of the world of beings is an ideal position in which all the conditions operate optimally. Thus, “preserving life” (baosheng 寶生) is not just a matter of prolonging physical existence; rather, it is predicated on “maintaining the right conditions” (cunyi 存宜). This would entail a hierarchical structure, although not necessarily a rigid structure that precludes social mobility. In fact, Pei Wei is known for his support for appointing talented scholars to office from humble backgrounds.19 Once this is established, the argument that desire should be kept within proper limits, though it cannot be eradicated, becomes persuasive. Being is not just about any one person, and “principle” is not just about human “nature” in a narrow constitutive sense. Being human is a social affair, and individuals are constantly shaping and being shaped by the lives they touch and the relationships they are engaged with. The role of the father, for example, may be defined, but the embodiment of that role hinges on what may be called the management of human complexities, which extend well beyond the family. Once the intersubjective “principles” of being are factored into the equation, it becomes clear that excessive desire would put tremendous strain on the environment and relationships, and that proper fulfillment rests on cultivating and managing these conditions through active engagement. At the political level, there is a sense in which putting in place the right system is at least as important as having the right people in office. As Pei Wei writes elsewhere, the sages of old recognized that the task of managing the multitude cannot be accomplished by any single person and thus established a political structure in which each official would be responsible for clearly defined portfolios. If they failed in their duty, they would be punished for all to see. With the right system and policies designed to enhance the conditions for human flourishing, and with the web of relationships and social roles operating not oppressively but harmoniously for  Jinshu [juan 35] 1982: 1043. Pei Wei had a part to play in elevating Zhang Hua 張華 (232–300 CE), who despite his humble origins was to become one of the greatest scholars and statesmen of the Jin period. See Jinshu [juan 36] 1982: 1072. Pei’s political discourses have been collected in Quan Jin Wen 全晋文 [juan 33]; see Yan 1995: 1646ff.

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mutual benefit and enrichment, then the ideal government by “nonaction” (wuwei) would be achieved.20 There is no contradiction in recommending wuwei so long as the meaning of wu is clearly understood. Of course, Pei Wei was concerned to arrest what he took to be the decadent behavior of many of his peers. His biography in the Jinshu also makes this point clear, laying much of the blame on He Yan and Ruan Ji for setting the trend a generation or so earlier, and during Pei’s own time, Wang Yan and his followers. Nevertheless, as Pei himself acknowledges in the Chongyou lun, if he were “unable to explain and set right each and every argument, then the teaching of the school of nothingness cannot be overturned 若未能每事釋正, 則無家之義弗可奪也.” To that end, a full account of the meaning of “being,” more so than a litany of the problems arising from adhering to an ethics of disengagement or escapism, despite its rhetorical force, would be needed. Although Pei Wei did not provide a full analysis of “nothingness,” he clearly saw it as a metaphysical foundation for certain ethical behavior. If people were simply greedy, rude, or uncaring, they should be counseled or punished; but if they believed that their behavior was right and that the established institutions and rituals were in fact obstacles to fulfillment, there is then a need to understand the underlying reasons for their behavior. In the Chongyou lun, which is a highly focused discussion of under 1,400 Chinese characters, Pei Wei was primarily concerned to show why the then prevalent argument that “denigrates being” (jianyou 賤有) could not be supported because it did not understand the dynamic processes of being. To convince his foes, however, Pei would need to address the meaning of non-being more fully. Perhaps he did write another essay titled “Critical Discussion on Why Nothingness is Valued” (Guiwu lun 貴無論) as it is reported in some sources, although the text has not been preserved.21 According to Cao Pi 曹丕 (187–226  CE), whereas some literary genres may require elegance (ya 雅) or realism (shi 實), a good lun-essay is marked by its argumentation or reasoning (shulun yili 書論宜理). If the argument is not sustained, or if it is inferior to the literary quality of the piece (不能持論, 理不胜辞), it would have failed the test.22 During the early years of the Eastern Jin dynasty, Li Chong李 充 (d. ca. 360 CE) pointed out that “when attention was given to thorough study and examination of names and principles, the genre of disquisition came into being. The value of a disquisition is measured by the judiciousness of its argumentation;

 Quan Jin Wen 全晉文 [juan 33]. See Yan 1995: 1646–1647.  Sanguo Zhi 三國志 [juan 23] 1982: 673n2, biography of Pei Qian 裴潛, who was Pei Wei’s grandfather. Also see Shishuo Xinyu [juan 4.12] commentary in Yang 1992: 154; Mather 1976: 97–98. It is mentioned as well by Sun Sheng 孫盛 (fl. 350 CE), in his “Critical Discussion on the Reasons Why Laozi was not a Worthy of the Highest Order (Lao Dan fei Da Xian lun 老聃非大賢 論), which also offers an assessment of Pei Wei’s analysis, to the effect that the two competing positions championing “being” and “nothingness” are equally one-sided. Quan Jin Wen [juan 63]. See Yan 1995: 1817. 22  Cao Pi, “Critical Discussion on Literature (Dian lun 典論), “Lun wen 論文,” in Wenxuan [juan 52] 1997: 2271. 20 21

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it ought to avoid fragmentation and incoherence 研覈名理, 而論難生焉。 論貴於允理, 不求支離.”23 The Chongyou lun meets these criteria, although it would be an overstatement to suggest that literary quality does not matter. Any lunessay, after all, was targeted at the educated elite. According to Lu Ji 陸機 (261–303 CE), “(Pei) Wei was gifted in analysis and possessed wide learning. He was adept in disquisition and refutation, and wrote the two disquisitions on “Esteeming Being” and “Valuing Nothingness” so as to rectify the problems of indulging in vacuous speculation. Rich in style and substance, they were among the most celebrated disquisitions of the age 頠理具淵博, 贍於論難, 著 崇有貴無二論, 以矯虛誕之弊, 文辭精富, 為世名論.”24 The Wenxin Diaolong 文 心雕龍 also affirms in its analysis of lun that it is a genre dedicated to discerning truth from falsehood through clear reasoning. Its author, Liu Xie 劉勰 (fl. 500 CE) observed that during the Western Jin dynasty, “Wang Yan and Pei Wei crossed swords in the (philosophical) domain of being and nothingness. They were both ahead of their peers at the time and their views could still be heard in later ages 夷 甫裴頠交辨於有無之域, 並獨步當時, 流聲後代.”25

4  Conclusion The intellectual vibrancy of early medieval China is truly remarkable and the Chongyou lun provides a good glimpse of it. The collapse of the Han empire caused painful disruptions and political instability, to be sure, but it also created space for philosophical innovation. As the Shishuo Xinyu relates, when Pei Wei brought forth the Chongyou lun, his contemporaries sought to refute it, but none was able to do so. Only Wang Yan was able to counter his arguments with some success. But when the others took Wang’s arguments to attack Pei Wei, the latter was able to stand his ground and defeat them in debate (裴成公作崇有論, 時人攻難之, 莫能折。唯王 夷甫來, 如小屈。時人即以王理難裴, 理還復申).26 Whether this was an accurate account or not, there is little doubt that the Chongyou lun left a mark on the intellectual imagination. As the Jinshu also reports, waves of attack on Pei Wei’s “Critical Discussion” came from Wang Yan and his supporters, but none was able to refute it. Pei Wei also worked on a critical discussion of “human capacity,” which reportedly provides a comprehensive account of the debate on the subject, though he was caught up in a political power struggle and was killed before he was able to

 Li Chong, “Hanlin lun 翰林論,” Taiping Yulan 太平御覽 595, cited in Yan 1995: 1767.  As cited in Sanguo Zhi, [juan 23] 1982: 673n2; similarly, in Shishuo Xinyu, juan 4.12, commentary. 25  Wenxin Diaolong, [juan 18] “Lun shuo 論說” in Zhang 1979: 186; Shih 1983: 203. Liu Xie was drawn to the Buddhist claim that prajna-wisdom transcends being and non-being, and went on to criticize both camps. 26  Shishuo Xinyu, [juan 4.12]. See Yang 1992: 154; Mather 1969–1970: 97. 23 24

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complete it (王衍之徒攻難交至, 並莫能屈。又著《辯才論》, 古今精義皆辨釋 焉, 未成而遇禍).27 “You” and “wu” are hermeneutically porous terms. One of the main challenges in the study of Xuanxue is precisely to discriminate the different views of being and nothingness. It cannot be assumed, for example, that He Yan and Wang Bi held the same interpretation of wu. Although both Pei Wei and Guo Xiang celebrated the dynamic order of being and shared certain ideas about the “self-generation” (zisheng 自生) of beings, to take but one other example, they differed significantly in their estimation of the self-sufficiency of beings. In this regard, it may be fruitful also to dissect the key issues in Xuanxue debates, such as the debate on “capacity and nature” and the thesis that words are incapable of conveying meaning fully (yan bu jin yi 言不盡意), in addition to examining the works of individual thinkers. Nevertheless, some interpretations are more impactful than others. While the Chongyou lun provides but a cursory reference to nothingness, its understanding of being should be recognized as having made an impact on Chinese philosophical analysis. The idea that being should be understood not statically but dynamically in terms of their interaction provided a new avenue of philosophical exploration. It is for this reason, and not because of the critique of the excesses of the literati at the time, as it is commonly supposed, that the Chongyou lun ranks as a celebrated disquisition in early medieval China.

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 Jinshu [juan 35] 1982: 1047.

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Li, Zhonghua 李中華, 1998. “A New Investigation of Pei Wei and his Chongyou lun 裴頠及 其崇有論新探.” In Select Writings on Chinese Studies over the Past 100 Years at Beijing University: Philosophy volume 北京大學百年國學文粹: 哲學卷, 284–301. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1994. The Classic of Changes: A New Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Mather, Richard B., 1969–1970. “The Controversy over Conformity and Naturalness during the Six Dynasties.” History of Religions, 9.2–3: 160–180. Mather, Richard B., trans. 1976. Shih-Shuo Hsin-Yü: A New Account of Tales of the World. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三, 1993. Existence and Profound Principle 才性與玄理. Taibei: Xuesheng Shuju. Sanguo Zhi 三國志. 1982. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Shih, Vincent Yu-Chung, trans. 1983. The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Wenxuan 文選, 1997. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Xu, Kangsheng 許抗生 et  al. 1989. History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學史. Xi’an: Shaanxi Shifan Daxue Chubanshe. Yan, Kejun 嚴可均, 1995. Complete Literary Works of High Antiquity, Qin and Han Dynasties, Three Kingdoms Period, and Six Dynasties 全上古三代秦漢三國六朝文. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yang, Yong 楊勇, 1992. Critical Edition of the Shishuo Xinyu with Commentary 世說新語校箋. Taibei: Zhengwen Shuju. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康, 1987. “Pei Wei’s Xuanxue Thought 裴頠的玄學思想,” Zhongguo Zhexueshi Yanjiu 中國哲學史研究, 27.2: 37–45. Yu, Dunkang 余敦康, 2004. History of Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學史. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Zhang, Lizhai 張立齋, 1979. Critical Edition of the Wenxin Dialong with Commentary 文心雕龍 註訂. Taipei: Zhengzhong Shuju. Alan K.L. Chan is currently the Provost and J.S. Lee Professor of Chinese Culture at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Prior to joining CUHK, Professor Chan was Toh Puan Mahani Idris Daim Chair Professor of Humanities at the Nanyang Technological University of Singapore. He is the author of Two Visions of the Way: A Study of the Wang Pi and the Ho-shang Kung Commentaries on the Lao-Tzu (1991), Mencius: Contexts and Interpretations (2002), and editor with Sor-Hoon Tan of Filial Piety in Chinese Thought and History (2004), and editor with Yuet Keung Lo of Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China (2010) as well as Interpretation and Literature in Early Medieval China (2010). Professor Chan’s research focuses on Chinese philosophy and religion, and hermeneutics and critical theory.

Chapter 18

Metaphysics and Agency in Guo Xiang’s Commentary on the Zhuangzi Chris Fraser

1  Introduction An intriguing, instructive puzzle about Guo Xiang’s 郭象 (d. 312 CE) philosophy arises simply from considering his brief comments on the titles of the “inner” books of the Zhuangzi 莊子—the first seven books (pian 篇) of the thirty-three book recension he produced. For readers unfamiliar with Guo, in just these brief remarks what might look like a fundamental tension at the heart of his thought emerges. Guo’s philosophy comes down to us only through his commentary on the Zhuangzi.1 He appears to have regarded the inner books as presenting the core of a Zhuangist worldview with which he identified and around which he structured his own thought. These being the only books with thematic titles reflecting their content, he began his remarks on each with a summary comment inspired by its title. His general comment for book 1, “Free and Easy Wandering,” indicates that all creatures can achieve easy, aimless freedom (xiaoyao 逍遙) through activity that conforms to their inherent character (xing 性), corresponds to their abilities, and suits their endowed allotment (fen 分).2 Guo refers to such freedom as a “field of

 Historical sources mention works by Guo on the Daodejing and the Confucian Analects, but these are no longer extant. Throughout this chapter, I assume, for the sake of discussion, that Guo’s commentary forms a coherent body of writing that aims to present a consistent philosophical stance. 2  See the Guo commentary (indicated by the heading “注”) to book 1 in Guo Qingfan 1961: 1. References to Guo Xiang’s commentary cite page numbers in Guo Qingfan’s edited text. All translations of Guo’s commentary are my own. Throughout the chapter, I interpret xing as the inherent, dispositional character of a thing at any one time, avoiding the common translation of xing as “nature” in order to distinguish it from tian 天, which I render as “nature” or “natural.”

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self-fulfillment.” Self-fulfillment would seem to imply the successful, satisfying exercise of agency, pursuing and achieving the values, ideals, and dreams we hold in our heart-mind (xin 心), usually understood to be the locus of cognitive, affective, and conative functions. One untutored way to understand free-and-easy wandering might be that it implies the freedom to do as the heart-mind directs. For what else could freedom be? A freedom to act merely by instinct or reflex hardly seems free or fulfilling. Yet Guo Xiang’s summary comments for three of the other inner books stress an idea that might seem to conflict with such apparently commonsensical assumptions (see Guo 1961: 131, 224, 287). According to these remarks, the key to appropriate action is “non-mindedness” (wuxin 無心)—to have no “mind,” here apparently referring to motivating attitudes such as intentions, aims, desires, and values.3 The absence of mind sounds like a recipe for relinquishing agency—the capacity for independent, self-determined thought and action—and for setting aside anything we value, pursue, or strive for. For readers new to Guo’s thought, advocating non-­ mindedness might seem to clash with the ideal of free-and-easy activity in which we fulfill our inherent character, abilities, and endowed potential. For what is the self-­ fulfillment associated with free wandering, if not the fulfilling, self-directed pursuit of values, intentions, and aims we affirm in our minds? How does non-mindedness fit together with a conception of agency on which we can enjoy the free-and-easy mode of life Guo valorizes? This chapter presents an interpretation of Guo Xiang’s thought that seeks to resolve these and related questions. I will explore how Guo’s views emerge from his approach to the metaphysics of dao 道 and the place of human activity and agency within it. Once we understand his views on these points, we can see that he holds a distinctive conception of the self and agency—and, accordingly, normatively appropriate action—on which self-fulfillment and easy, aimless freedom are consistent with his doctrine of non-mindedness, which in fact presents a precondition for attaining them. As I will show, Guo Xiang uses key terms such as zi 自 (self), xin, zhi 知 (know), and xing (inherent character) in distinctive, specialized ways that diverge both from common uses of these words in Chinese and from familiar categories in contemporary philosophical psychology yet are coherent, intelligible, and defensible. The normative conception of agency and the well-lived life that emerges from his Zhuangzi commentary can at first sight seem puzzling and counterintuitive. But I will contend that it is plausible and presents a fascinating, profound, and potentially correct view of the nature of human agency and the sources of normativity.

3  Because the word xin 心 also refers to the physical heart and the concept of xin covers cognitive, affective, and conative functions, it is often interpreted as “heart-mind.” For brevity, I will refer to it as “mind,” with the proviso that “mind” covers all three areas of psychological activity.

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2  Dao as “Independent Transformation” In the context of Wei-Jin 魏晉 philosophical debate, Guo Xiang’s account of dao is probably the most prominent feature of his thought. Famously, he rejects He Yan’s 何 晏 (196–249 CE)4 and Wang Bi’s 王弼 (226–249 CE)5 influential conception of dao as wu 無 (nothing, non-existence), instead identifying dao with the spontaneous, individual “self-production” or “autogeneration” (zisheng 自生) of the myriad things, an idea he develops from Xiang Xiu 向秀 (ca. 227–277 CE). He Yan had contended that dao is “that which has nothing it possesses” and implied that dao is wu (nothing), specifically in the sense that it is not any one thing, with determinate, distinguishable features, but an unnameable, unspecifiable fullness or completeness (quan 全) from which all things are produced.6 For He Yan, then, to understand dao as wu is to regard it not as an utter absence or non-presence but as “no-thing” or “not any determinate thing.” Wang Bi disagreed with this characterization, contending that dao is in fact simply a designation for wu (nothing, non-­existence), which is the source from which all things proceed. For Wang, wu is the ground or origin of all existence (you 有). He understands this origin not as an undifferentiated whole about which nothing can be said, but as the absence of existence. On Wang’s view, if we interpret wu as He Yan does, we fail to explain the source of existent things; instead, we merely gesture toward a further aspect of existence. The source of things must be something other than and beyond existence, and hence it must be non-existence.7 Guo Xiang rejects both Wang Bi’s and He Yan’s views. Like Wang and against He, Guo holds that wu simply is nothing or non-existence. But against Wang, he contends that wu cannot be the source of anything. Since wu is non-existence, by its very nature it cannot generate existence.8 Wu does not produce things, nor is it dao. From what, then, do things arise? Since non-existence is indeed non-existence, it cannot generate existence. [But] before existence is generated, neither can it generate anything either. So then that which generates generation, what is it? Alone, [things] simply are generated of themselves … Being so of themselves, they are called “naturally so.” Being naturally so is not [the result of] taking action, so it’s spoken of as “natural” … So “nature” is a general name for the myriad things; no one thing filling the role of nature, who is the master that things obey? So things are each generated of themselves, without anything they issue from—this is the dao of nature.

 See Paul D’Ambrosio’s chapter in this Companion for more.  See Eric Nelson’s chapter in this Companion for more. 6  For discussion, see Alan Chan 2009: section 2. For a translation of relevant passages, see WingTsit Chan 1963: 324–325. 7  See Alan Chan 2019: sect. 2; see also Wing-Tsit Chan 1963: 321–324. For further discussion, see Brook Ziporyn 2015: 399–401. 8  Guo’s younger contemporary Pei Wei 裴頠 (267–300 CE) similarly argued that utter non-existence lacks any means by which it could generate anything. Hence what originates generation must self-generate, and in doing so it must have existence as its basis. See Mou Zongsan 1997: 368, and Tang Yijie 2000: 57. Tai Lianchang argues that Pei’s conception of self-generation is distinct from Guo’s, as Pei holds that things rely on resources outside themselves for their generation. See Tai 1995: 51–55; see also Alan Chan’s chapter in this Companion. 4 5

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無既無矣, 則不能生有; 有之未生, 又不能為生。然則生生者誰哉? 塊然而自生 耳 …… 自己而然, 則謂之天然。天然耳, 非為也, 故以天言之 …… 故天者, 萬物 之總名也, 莫適為天, 誰主役物乎? 故物各自生而無所出焉, 此天道也 (Guo 1961: 50). As the maker of things has no master, each thing makes itself. As each thing makes itself without anything to depend on—this is the norm of the natural world.

故造物者無主, 而物各自造, 物各自造而無所待焉, 此天地之正也 (Guo 1961: 112).

The generation or formation of things proceeds from factors inherent in each thing, without been driven or directed by any “master,” whether a deity, a first cause or source, or a unifying pattern or process. Indeed, for Guo Xiang, the whole idea of dao as a unified source—whether an entity, a causal process, or an abstract pattern—that produces things is a mistake. The “dao of nature” is simply a label for how things each arise of themselves: Hence dao cannot make [something] exist, and what exists is always so-of-itself.

道故不能使有, 而有者常自然也 (Guo 1961: 919). Nature is what is so-of-itself. What is so-of-itself being manifest, things fulfill their dao.

天者, 自然也。自然既明, 則物得其道也 (Guo 1961: 471).

Dao itself—apart from the myriad things in nature—does nothing and has no capacities. Dao has no capacities. When [the Zhuangzi] speaks of getting [an achievement] from Dao, this is just a means of explaining that [things] get it of themselves. Since they get it of themselves, dao cannot make them get it; nor, before we get it, can we take action to get it. That being the case, then all those who get it neither draw on dao as a source outside themselves nor have it come from a self within themselves, [but instead] suddenly independently transform in and of themselves … Hence taking action to generate [something] is ultimately inadequate to complete its generation, because its generation does not come from the self taking action. To the contrary, taking action injures its genuine generation.

道, 無能也。此言得之於道, 乃所以明其自得耳。自得耳, 道不能使之得也; 我之 未得, 又不能為得也。然則凡得之者, 外不資於道, 內不由於己, 掘然自得而獨化 也 …… 故夫為生果不足以全生, 以其生之不由於己為也, 而為之則傷其真生也 (Guo 1961: 251).

This passage introduces several concepts pivotal to Guo Xiang’s metaphysics and ethics. First, dao simply refers to how the myriad things “independently transform in and of themselves.” It is not an entity, force, process, or pattern apart from or outside of things that makes them what they are or that they draw on or follow to grow and develop as they do. Instead, it is just the various ways all things are generated and live or develop in themselves. Arguably, we should not refer to dao in the singular or as a totality at all, but to the extent it makes sense to do so, dao is wholly immanent in things. The processes by which things arise and develop Guo dubs “independent transformation” (du hua 獨化).9 Independent transformation refers to how, on Guo’s 9  Duhua is sometimes interpreted as “lone transformation,” but the connotation of “lone” may be misleading, since duhua often involves interaction with other things. See Yuet Keung Lo’s chapter in this Companion.

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view, the sheng 生 of each individual thing—its birth, production, or generation, its growth or development, and its life—issues from itself, rather than being driven or controlled by something else. This same basic idea Guo also refers to as zisheng (self-generation) or zihua 自化 (self-transformation), which along with independent transformation are part of a prominent cluster of overlapping notions that also includes ziran 自然 (self-so), zi’er 自爾 (so-in-itself), and zide 自得 (self-­ fulfillment, obtaining in and of itself). The passage underscores a crucial feature of Guo’s doctrine of independent transformation. Obviously, for transformation to be “independent,” things must in some respect arise and develop independently of any source outside of them. But Guo’s view is that they also do so independently of any self (ji 己) within them that controls them or makes them as they are. Dao does not drive our activity, but nor do we self-consciously drive it ourselves. When Guo speaks of “self-generation” or “self-transformation,” then, he is not referring to things acting on themselves to generate, produce, or transform themselves. In his usage, the connotation of the word zi is not analogous to the connotation of “self-” in compounds such as “self-employed,” “self-absorbed,” or “self-governing.” It is more similar to the connotation of “auto-.” Zisheng is not a thing’s somehow acting to generate itself, but the “autogeneration” of that thing and its activity out of its inherent character and capacities.10 The passage contrasts such autogenerated activity with “taking action” (wei 為). Guo Xiang contends that what does not come about by independent transformation, in and of itself, cannot be obtained by taking action. Indeed, taking action may actually obstruct or harm the independent generation of things, he claims. The passage thus also introduces the basis for Guo’s ethical stance: what is produced by independent transformation is “genuine” (zhen 真); taking action may interfere with independent transformation and so should be avoided. For Guo Xiang, the nature of autogeneration explains why we cannot know the origins of things or how they are produced. Things and their activity arise through autogeneration or independent transformation, which take place in a manner that is so-of-itself, without any explicit, self-aware undertaking. Precisely because things are so-of-themselves, they are “so without [anyone’s] knowing that by which they are so 不知其所以然而然” (Guo 1961: 61; cf. 10, 55, 495, 960). Why or how they are so can’t be known, simply because there is nothing that is “that by which they are so.” Since they are autogenerated, no process or cause brings them about, thereby explaining why they are as they are. There is nothing to know, identify, or clarify. The most we can do by way of explanation is simply point out the manner in which things indeed arise. This sphere of what is beyond explanation or clarification Guo calls ming 冥 (dark, obscure, indeterminate).11

 Brook Ziporyn aptly remarks that “what Guo means by ‘self-so’ [is] not done by me, nor by anyone or anything else.” See Ziporyn 2015: 404. 11  As Brook Ziporyn says, ming in this sense is “a word for the unknowability of how things create themselves.” Ziporyn 2003: 35. 10

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No thing things things; rather, things simply thing themselves.12 Things simply thing themselves, so they are obscure.

無物而物自物耳。物自物耳, 故冥也 (Guo 1961: 753).

It would be preposterous to deny that any causal relations obtain between things or that we can know at least something about why or how things happen as they do. If this were Guo’s stance, the doctrine of independent transformation would be untenable. But this is not his view, as we can see from his comments on the well-­ known Zhuangzi passage depicting a conversation between a shadow and its penumbra about what determines the shadow’s movement. These comments underscore two points about causality. First, all causal explanations come to an end somewhere. When they do, they bottom out in descriptions of how things simply happen as they do, of themselves, because of the inherent features or character of things. If we seek what they depend on and search for where they come from, then the searching and seeking have no end, until we come to what is non-dependent, and then the patterns of independent transformation become clear.

若責其所待而尋其所由, 則尋責無極, 而至於無待, 而獨化之理明矣 (Guo 1961: 111).

If we ask why a body casts a shadow, the explanation is that it blocks light. If we ask why it blocks light, we can explain how it is formed of opaque material. But at some point, the answer to the question of why something opaque casts a shadow will be that it just does—it is a brute fact that some things inherently possess this sort of causal power. This bedrock level of explanation I suggest corresponds to Guo’s notion of what is so-in-itself of things (zi’er). Second, Guo Xiang acknowledges that things may interact causally, referring to such interaction as xiang yin 相因 (being a basis for each other) or xiang shi 相使 (causing each other) (Guo 1961: 112, 241, 917). Indeed, he holds that “all generation of things follows from something” (Guo 1961: 943). But he sees such causal interaction as compatible with and indeed explained by independent transformation. The fundamental ontological explanation of causal relations, he holds, lies in the “source” (zong 宗) of each individual thing within itself (Guo 1961: 112). For simplicity, instead of the complex relation between a penumbra, shadow, body, and light source, consider the textbook example of one billiard ball striking another, causing it to roll away. Guo would call the first billiard ball the “proximal cause” (jin yin 近因) of the movement of the second. It is a mistake, he thinks, to “seek this proximal cause while forgetting what is so-of-itself of things, locating their source outside of them and overlooking the master within 責此近因而忘其自爾, 宗物於 外, 喪主於內” (Guo 1961: 112). It is only because of the inherent features of billiard balls—that they have a certain mass, elasticity, smooth surface, and so forth— that the causal effect can obtain. The movement of the second ball is not “made” or “directed” by the first but rather, given the features of the second ball, is a so-ofitself (zi’er) reaction to being struck (see Guo 1961: 112). The causal relations that may affect things are determined by their inherent character or causal powers. In

 That is, there is no thing outside of things that makes them the things they are; rather, things simply arise in-and-of-themselves as the things they are.

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this respect, their path of transformation or development is still determined by them, of themselves, and not by something outside of them. Independent transformation entails not that things arise and develop without interaction but that how they interact is determined by what is so-of-itself for each thing.13 Guo Xiang distinguishes these everyday causal relations, which issue from inherent features of things in themselves, from two other sorts of relations that he regards as indeed inconsistent with autogeneration and independent transformation. One is the relation of “dependence” (dai 待), through which the existence or activity of things is determined by something outside of them. Guo rejects such a dependence relation when he rebuts the idea that there is any “master” or first cause outside of things that makes them what they are. Autogeneration and independent transformation are clearly inconsistent with such a dependence relation. The other— introduced above—is “taking action,” through which things are interfered with or manipulated in a way that diverges from their inherent, autogenerated character. In contexts other than human agency, Guo denies that the relations of dependence or taking action exist; natural functioning is non-dependent and nature takes no action (Guo 1961: 111, 383). In contexts pertaining to agency, as we will see, he holds the normative stance that we should avoid dependence on anything outside of ourselves while refraining from taking action on things, including ourselves.

3  Non-Action and Inherent Character The activity of things in accordance with dao and independent transformation Guo calls wuwei 無為 (non-action), a term referring to the absence of wei 為. Wei is action undertaken from motives we explicitly adopt without regard for the inherent character or so-in-themselves patterns of things. It is thus contrived or forced (qiang 強) rather than responsive (ying 應) to the inherent tendencies or independent transformation of things. Since wei is action that one self-consciously takes or initiates rather than finds, allows, or is guided into, I will refer to it as “taking action.” The absence of wei I will call “non-action.” In everyday Chinese usage, wei refers generally to conduct, action, or behavior, and so wuwei might seem to connote the absence of any activity, or doing nothing at all. Guo is explicit, however, that in his view wuwei is not literally doing nothing. “Non-action does not refer to folding one’s hands and remaining silent 無為者, 非 拱默之謂也” (Guo 1961: 369). Rather, it refers to activity that fulfills certain criteria associated with autogeneration, independent transformation, and related notions.  Here my reading diverges from Brook Ziporyn’s, on which Guo denies that interaction between things is a matter of causality. See Ziporyn 2003: 103, 105. I also differ from Tang Yijie, who sees Guo as denying that things have any power to affect each other and indeed rendering the existence of things unintelligible. See Tang 2000: 267, 278. Like Tai Lianchang 1995: 60–61, I suggest that the doctrine of independent transformation is compatible with ordinary talk about causal relations. Guo Xiang can coherently claim that things are autogenerated while also holding that, through autogenerated reactions, their current status is partly a result of causal interaction with other things. (On this complex issue, see also the chapter by Yuet Keung Lo in this Companion.)

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Non-action is activity that follows from one’s inherent character (xing) and “natural mechanisms” (tianji 天機). One who employs the realm indeed performs the action of employing it. Yet this action comes of itself, being movement that follows from inherent character, and so we call it “non-action.” … If [things] each apply their inherent character, their natural mechanisms profoundly issuing forth, then both ancient and modern, high rank and low, take no action.

夫用天下者, 亦有用之為耳。然自得此為, 率性而動, 故謂之無為也 …… 然各用 其性而天機玄發, 則古今上下無為 (Guo 1961: 466).

Examples of non-action include indispensable activities such as feeding and clothing ourselves. By our inherent character, we cannot do away with food and clothing; in our work, we cannot dispense with ploughing and weaving … Maintaining this dao is the utmost in non-action.

故性之不可去者, 衣食也; 事之不可廢者, 耕織也 …… 守斯道者, 無為之至也 (Guo 1961: 334).

Non-action accords with one’s actual abilities (neng 能) and endowed allotment (fen 分) and hence brings about fulfillment or completion of one’s inherent character and life circumstances (ming 命). These terms collectively refer to the specific dispositions, capacities, and limitations we happen to possess at any one time.14 Non-action lies in letting them operate so-of-themselves, without self-conscious direction. The feet being able to walk, let them; the hands being able to grip, allow them. Listen to what the ears hear; look at what the eyes see. Let knowing stop at what it doesn’t know and ability stop at what it’s unable to do. Apply what applies itself; do what does itself. Follow what’s within one’s inherent character without going beyond one’s allotment in the slightest—this is the utter ease of non-action. No one has ever practiced non-action without thereby making their inherent character and life circumstances whole.

足能行而放之, 手能執而任之, 聽耳之所聞, 視目之所見。知止其所不知, 能止其 所不能。用其自用, 為其自為。恣其性內而無纖芥於分外, 此無為之至易也。無 為而性命不全者, 未之有也 (Guo 1961: 184).

Although non-action is “easy” in the sense that it suits our abilities, it may involve invention, training, and effort. For example, driving or riding horses may count as non-action if done with due heed for the horses’ abilities. Now a good driver of horses will fulfill their abilities. Fulfilling their abilities lies in allowing them to be themselves … If one accords with the strength of a nag or a racehorse and suits their endowment as slow or quick, then though their footprints may reach the most remote lands, the inherent character of all the horses will be complete. Yet the confused hear about following horses’ inherent character and assert this means setting them free and not riding them; they hear about non-action and claim that walking is not as good as lying down.

 Wang Deyou makes this point well, calling xing, for example “the various specifications that things possess.” See Wang 1987: 32. Brook Ziporyn accordingly interprets xing as “determinacy,” with the understanding that what is determinate for any one thing will change from moment to moment. See Ziporyn 2003: 89. Tai Lianchang points out that for Guo xing is in effect a thing’s natural endowment and thus what is self-so for it, requiring no action. See Tai 1995: 52.

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夫善御者, 將以盡其能也。盡能在於自任 …… 若乃任駑驥之力, 適遲疾之分, 雖 則足跡接乎八荒之表, 而眾馬之性全矣。而惑者聞任馬之性, 乃謂放而不乘; 聞 無為之風, 遂云行不如臥 (Guo 1961: 333).

Non-action accords with the dynamic patterns (li 理) immanent in things, by which autogenerated activity proceeds. These patterns are not an abstract norm or ideal external to things that determines action—such a role would contradict the doctrine of independent transformation—but simply a general label for how things in fact work. For Guo—as for most Chinese thinkers—the patterns are not purely descriptive but infused with normative significance, which provides grounds for his ethical stance. Human life is autogenerated by the patterns [of things]. Simply take no action but allow [things] to autogenerate; this is valuing one’s person and recognizing one’s task.

人之生也, 理自生矣, 直莫之為而任其自生, 斯重其身而知務者也 (Guo 1961: 202).

The crux of the distinction between non-action and taking action is thus that non-­ action responds and conforms to the patterns that shape our circumstances, including the inherent character of things, their endowed allotment, and their independent transformation. To take action is to disregard or oppose these.

4  The Ethical Ideal: Freedom from Dependence In the context of Wei-Jin discourse, Guo Xiang’s discussion of dao is significant for its bearing on ontological issues, but our interest here is mainly in its normative import. Guo’s account of dao as the autogeneration or independent transformation of all things can be directly extended into an account of the good life, namely the normatively appropriate dao for human agents. As he sees it, dao lies simply in conforming to the autogeneration of things, including ourselves, according to our inherent character and the patterns of things. To follow dao, then, is to practice non-­ action, following along with what is self-so both for ourselves and for the various things around us. The self-so constitutes the “norms of the natural world”: The myriad things are the body of the natural world, and the myriad things surely take what is self-so as their norm. The self-so is what is so-of-itself without taking action. So the giant Peng-bird’s ability to fly high, the quail’s ability to fly low, the Chun tree’s ability to be long-lived, and the morning mushroom’s ability to be short-lived—these are all what they are able to do so-of-themselves, not by taking action … To “mount the norms of the natural world” is to follow along with the inherent character of the myriad things.

天地以萬物為體, 而萬物必以自然為正。自然者, 不為而自然者也。故大鵬之能 高, 斥鴳之能下, 樁木之能長, 朝菌之能短, 凡此皆自然之所能, 非為之所能也 …… 故乘天地之正者, 即是順萬物之性也 (Guo 1961: 20).

To follow our inherent character, allowing our autogeneration to proceed of itself, is to attain the good life. From the first chapter of the Zhuangzi, Guo Xiang borrows the concept of xiaoyao—freely wandering about at ease, without any fixed destination or direction—to express his ethical vision of a world in which all creatures live

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in a self-fulfilling manner well-suited to their particular character and abilities, without artifice or interference. The self-so is not taking action. This is the main point of easy, aimless freedom.

自然耳, 不為也。此逍遙之大意 (Guo 1961: 10). Although small and large are different, if set loose in the field of self-fulfillment, things follow their inherent character, pursue affairs that match their abilities, and each align with their endowed allotment—the easy, aimless freedom is one and the same.

夫小大雖殊, 而放於自得之場, 則物任其性, 事稱其能, 各當其分, 逍遙一也 (Guo 1961: 1). Zhuangzi’s main point lies in free and easy wandering about, achieving self-fulfillment through non-action. So [the text] takes the small and large to extremes to clarify [the idea of] fitting [various creatures’] inherent character and endowed allotment.

夫莊子之大意, 在乎逍遙遊放, 無為而自得, 故極小大之致, 以明性分之適 (Guo 1961: 3).

Just as each creature is equally part of dao, undergoing its own independent transformation, each can attain easy, aimless freedom in its own way by allowing its inherent character to proceed with self-so non-action. Self-fulfillment in free, easy wandering for Guo Xiang simply is doing what comes so-of-itself to each of us, given our inherent character, abilities, and so forth. Different agents may thus realize the free-and-easy life through a plurality of diverse activities without any necessarily being superior or inferior to each other. The giant Peng bird may soar miles above the clouds while the quail merely flits from tree to tree, but if both are genuinely doing what comes so-of-itself to them, both can achieve what Guo regards as the good life of easy, aimless freedom. As Guo Xiang understands such freedom and fulfillment, attaining it requires that one’s autogenerated activity be “non-dependent” (wudai 無待) on anything outside itself. We saw in section 2 that this point follows conceptually from his understanding of dao as independent transformation. The details of Guo’s understanding of non-dependence are informative, as they lead into his account of non-­ mindedness. Any particular activity we engage in will indeed depend on certain contingent conditions; no matter how light the sage Liezi 列子 makes himself, for example, he can ride the wind only when it blows (Guo 1961: 20). Since circumstances are constantly changing, the concrete conditions our activity happens to depend on may cease to obtain. To attain non-dependence, then, our reliance on any particular conditions must be strictly provisional, leaving us continually ready to adapt to new conditions through our own independent transformation. If we are bound to any one direction, we cannot achieve non-dependence (Guo 1961: 11). But to achieve this adaptiveness—to “follow along with the inherent character of the myriad things 順萬物之性” and “wander along the path of change and transformation 遊變化之途” says Guo, we must achieve a “profound assimilation” of self and other, such that we “join together in obscurity (ming 冥) with things” (Guo 1961: 20). By this curious phrase, he seems to refer to a psychological state in which the various differences and distinctions between things, including that between oneself

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and others, fade into an indeterminate darkness (Guo 1961: 11). In this vague, unformed state, we have no fixed identity or commitments, and accordingly nothing burdens or entangles us, leaving us free to wander about through autogeneration without depending on anything in particular.

5  Obscurity and Non-Mindedness Ming 冥 is among the most distinctive concepts in Guo Xiang’s thought. The word connotes what is dark and obscure and hence indistinct and indeterminate. We first encountered it in section 2 as a label for the brute autogeneration of things, the bedrock against which causal explanations come to an end. Guo uses ming to refer to the unspecifiable, ongoing actuality (shi 實) of things, which he considers unknowable insofar as it is unfixed, indeterminate, and constantly transforming. This obscure aspect of reality he contrasts with the explicit, determinate, lasting tracks (ji 跡, also “traces”) that things leave and the names we use to identify and refer to them (Guo 1961: 34).15 Tracks and names, not the obscure reality that leaves the tracks or that the names refer to, are the objects of what I will call “explicit” thought and knowledge. Ming is what is not explicit; the explicit is the “manifest,” which Guo associates with what is artificial or contrived (wei 偽) (Guo 1961: 519). Another prominent use of ming, introduced at the end of the preceding section, is as a verb referring to a psychological outlook on which differences (yi 異) and boundaries (ji 際) dim and fade, the dichotomy between self and other is “left behind” or “forgotten,” and the agent unites with things in an obscure, indeterminate vagueness (Guo 1961: 11).16 Guo Xiang sees ming in this sense as a precondition for non-dependence: only those who “join with things in obscurity” and follow along with the fluctuations of things can achieve free-flowing non-dependence (Guo 1961: 20). Both senses of ming are intertwined with a third use. Ming also refers to what is attained without issuing from “knowing” (zhi 知) (Guo 1961: 757).17 Since the obscure actuality of things and their autogeneration are ming and thus beyond  Guo Xiang’s point is not that tracks are mere appearances, not reality. The distinction between tracks and actuality does not correlate with that between appearance and reality. For example, the tracks of the sages are real and indeed record the sages’ path at some time in the past. The problem is that static, fixed tracks and names do not embody the sages’ dynamic, autogenerative activity (see, for instance, Guo 1961: 344). They thus cannot serve as guides to emulate in following dao. 16  To cite just a few of the many examples of such uses of ming, see Guo 1961: 99, 129, 185, 195, 269, and 754. Wang Deyou emphasizes this aspect of ming, marshaling persuasive textual support for interpreting it as a “harmonious joining” with things. See Wang 1987: 33–34. Tai Lianchang also calls attention to this aspect, while clarifying that it is but one part of Guo’s complex conception of ming. See Tai 1995: 62–68. As Brook Ziporyn stresses, the connotation of being dark, obscure, and hence unknowable is also crucial. See Ziporyn 2003: 66. 17  Zhu Hanmin helpfully explores this aspect of ming and its links to non-mindedness in Zhu 2011: 91–94. 15

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knowing, so too is anything attained through them without mediation by knowing. As I will explain below, I suggest that what Guo is referring to here by “knowing” is a reflectively self-conscious state. The joint implication of the three uses of ming, then, is that by setting aside reflectively self-conscious attitudes, an agent can engage with things in a mode of interaction—“joining in obscurity”—that leaves the identities, capacities, and ends of both sides vague and indeterminate. In this way, the agent remains open and responsive to the autogenerated activity of both oneself and other things, preserving the potential for autotransformation in any number of directions. Activity issuing from such interaction Guo also considers ming.18 Any fixed attitude—any explicit thought that represents things in a way expressible by names—can pertain only to the tracks of things rather than to their ongoing activity. Hence we can become responsive to the actual, ongoing autogeneration of things only through ming 冥, by letting such attitudes fall away and engaging with things in indeterminate obscurity. Crucially, this point applies not only to our relations with other agents and things but to ourselves. We can act according to our own self-so independent transformation, and hence wander freely without dependence, only by attaining what Guo Xiang calls “a state of profound obscurity,” in which we fully absorb ourselves in the flow of autogeneration, “simply following along with life-circumstances” (Guo 1961: 241). Our own thoughts, attitudes, and any explicit sense of self interfere with immersion in this flow, so to fulfill Guo’s ethical ideal we must set them aside and attain what he calls “non-mindedness.” “Those who attain non-mindedness,” he says, “join in obscurity with things and are never opposed to anything 無心者與物冥而未嘗有對於天下也,” as they are ready to follow along with (shun 順) both sides of any distinction (Guo 1961: 68). To be non-minded is to have nothing one does not conform to (Guo 1961: 96). Non-mindedness is a precondition for ming, and thus free-and-easy wandering, because it enables one “to conform to the full allotment of things without adding anything in the slightest 任其至 分而無毫銖之加” (Guo 1961: 115).19 Through ming, one can “profoundly respond through non-mindedness, following along purely by feel, drifting like an unmoored boat, going east or west without it being from the self” (Guo 1961: 24).

 Since I interpret ming here as a mode of engagement with things that ultimately grounds a distinctive conception of agency (see section 6), I have reservations about Ziporyn’s construal of ming as “vanishing (into) things.” See Ziporyn 2003: 66–67. To be sure, the agent who attains ming with things forgets any reflectively self-conscious sense of self. Still, the agent remains a discrete entity undergoing independent transformation, whose activity arises self-so from inherent character (xing). As I will explain in section 6, for Guo agency is inherently relational, issuing from interaction between the agent’s inherent character and things. But this relation seems better characterized as a matter of engaging, joining, or merging than of vanishing. In a later essay, Ziporyn revises this label to “vanishing merging,” referring to a “pre-reflexive coming-together” or “comfortably uncognized encounter,” two descriptions that largely converge with my own. See Ziporyn 2015: 412. 19  Tai Lianchang emphasizes this aspect of ming, depicting it as a practice (gongfu 工夫) of attaining “non-minded unmediated responsiveness,” through which we forget ourselves and follow the self-so patterns of our inherent character, thus merging with dao and allowing independent transformation to proceed. See Tai 1995: 59, 67. 18

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As these remarks suggest, non-mindedness—and the associated state of “non-­ knowing” (wuzhi 無知)—is crucial for ming and wandering because of how it facilitates responsiveness to one’s circumstances. It enables the agent to follow along with autotransformation, finding fitting responses to changing circumstances without forcing things. Those who respond with non-mindedness go along with other things without forced responses.

夫無心而應者, 任彼耳, 不強應也 (Guo 1961: 149). Only those who are non-minded and do not use themselves can follow along with what fits changing circumstances and not be burdened by entanglements.

唯無心而不自用者, 為能隨變所適而不荷其累也 (Guo 1961: 131). Because [the perfected person] has no knowing but only goes along with the auto-activity of the world, he rides along with the myriad things without limit.

夫唯無其知而任天下之自為, 故馳萬物而不窮也 (Guo 1961: 97). Since one is non-minded toward things, one does not deprive them of their fittingness.

無心於物, 故不奪物宜 (Guo 1961: 232).

By contrast, “having mind” (youxin 有心) is associated with taking action and with encumbering the self-so (Guo 1961: 407, 813). It implies obstinately proceeding in one’s own way rather than responding to circumstances in a manner that “comes of itself” (Guo 1961: 137). Employing the mind to direct action runs counter to dao: The genuine man knows that to apply mind is contrary to dao and to help nature along is to injure life-generation, so he does not do so.

真人知用心則背道, 助天則傷生, 故不為也 (Guo 1961: 230).

In rejecting knowing and endorsing non-mindedness, what exactly is Guo Xiang advocating? The links between non-mindedness or non-knowing and responsiveness or fittingness suggest that, like “non-action,” these are terms of art, with a specialized import pertaining to how we interact with things. As we saw, Guo Xiang holds that “non-action” does not refer literally to doing nothing but to the absence of imposed or forced action that runs contrary to dao. Similarly, I suggest, “non-­ mindedness” and “non-knowing” do not refer literally to lacking all psychological attributes or lacking all awareness or cognition. Guo explicitly indicates as much by drawing parallels between acting and knowing: “Nature” refers to what is self-so. Those who undertake to take action are unable to act, while [natural] acting simply acts-of-itself. Those who undertake to know are unable to know, while [natural] knowing simply knows-of-itself. Knowing-of-itself is non-knowing; non-knowing is when knowing issues from not knowing. Acting-of-itself is non-acting; non-acting is when acting issues from not taking action.

天者, 自然之謂也。夫為為者不能為, 而為自為耳; 為知者不能知, 而知自知耳。 自知耳, 不知也, 不知也則知出於不知矣; 自為耳, 不為也, 不為也則為出於不為矣 (Guo 1961: 224).

As this passage makes clear, Guo Xiang does not reject all knowing. Just as his conception of non-action affirms the value of action that is a so-of-itself response to

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the situation, rather than something we impose on it, his conception of non-knowing affirms the legitimacy of knowing that occurs so-of-itself rather than as the outcome of undertaking to know. Elsewhere Guo draws an analogy between such knowing and vision. Just as seeing things does not require us to take any action—we simply open our eyes—the mode of knowing he endorses comes of itself without our taking any action (Guo 1961: 152). Since non-knowing is not literally the absence of knowing, non-mindedness cannot literally be the absence of any psychological attitudes. Nor is it likely that non-­ mindedness entails relinquishing the basis for self-directed agency, in some appropriately qualified sense of “self.” Despite Guo’s rhetoric about following along with things and drifting like an unmoored boat, our own independent transformation and autogeneration are as much as part of dao as anything else is. Hence his conception of dao can be expected to leave room for action that arises so-of-itself from the independent transformation of our inherent character. A likely hypothesis is that, because it facilitates free-and-easy wandering and contrasts with taking action, non-­ mindedness refers to the psychological dimension of non-action: it is the absence of psychological attitudes that would lead one to take action, rather than acting from inherent character in line with one’s abilities and endowed allotment.20 These conjectures are supported by Guo Xiang’s descriptions of exemplary action. Commenting on a famous Zhuangzi passage about how efficacious action requires “fasting the mind,” or emptying it of explicit, predetermined plans, Guo associates “having mind” with taking action and contrasts this with “applying emptiness in dealing with things” by “leaving the ears and eyes behind and eliminating the mind’s intention, instead conforming to what comes-of-itself to one’s life-breath and inherent character 遺耳目, 去心意, 而符氣性之自得” (Guo 1961: 147). The implication is that once explicit, reflectively self-conscious attitudes of the mind are set aside, another, implicit source of agency emerges: one’s life-breath and inherent character. Non-mindedness thus lies not in relinquishing agency or embracing passivity, but in acting from implicit capacities of our inherent character rather than explicit attitudes of the mind. Guo repeatedly emphasizes that as living creatures we should each act by what fits our inherent character and endowed allotment—to do so is to “nurture life-generation” (yang sheng 養生) and to fulfill the appropriate patterns.21 In his view, acting from our inherent character contrasts sharply with acting from “knowing” (zhi). What brings out the natural in us, he says, is “the movement of inherent character,” while what brings out the human, or artificial, and associated troubles, is the use of knowing (Guo 1961: 638–639). Non-minded activity simply springs from us of itself, without our self-consciously undertaking to act and without knowing exactly how we do so. Having a mind to undertake virtuosity is not genuine virtuosity. Those with genuine virtuosity suddenly get-it-of-themselves without knowing how they get it.

有心於為德, 非真德也。夫真德者, 忽然自得而不知所以得也 (Guo 1961: 1057).  This hypothesis dovetails with Tai Lianchang’s suggestion that for Guo Xiang non-mindedness lies in setting aside preferences, biases, and explicit judgments of right or wrong and good or bad. See Tai 1995: 68. 21  See, for instance, Guo 1961: 631, 666. 20

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Adept agents “respond without initiating,” “forgetting themselves” and finding what “works-of-itself.” They do not first know a certain response is good and only then respond. Rather, the response comes of itself “without their knowing how they respond.” Precisely this sort of response is dao (Guo 1961: 72). Insofar as such non-knowing, so-of-itself activity comes of itself, it is not ultimately within explicit, reflective control. What is autogenerated or arises of itself is not something a self-conscious “I” produces (Guo 1961: 50). What we can or cannot do issues from our “natural mechanisms” and the patterns of things as we encounter them, not from an “I” explicitly taking action: As to the life (sheng, also birth or generation) of things, it’s not that they know to live and thereby live. So as to how life proceeds, how could it be that [we] know to proceed and thereby proceed? So the feet don’t know how they walk, the eyes don’t know how they see, and the mind doesn’t know how it knows—compliantly [these things] come of themselves. How quick or slow we are, how discerning our intelligence, whether we are capable or not—all of these are not “I.”

物之生也, 非知生而生也。則生之行也, 豈知行而行哉!故足不知所以行, 目不知 所以見, 心不知所以知, 俛然而自得矣。遲速之節, 聰明之鑒, 或能或否, 皆非我也 (Guo 1961: 593; cf. 219).

Guo Xiang’s claim that we do not know how we walk, see, or know and that our abilities are not under explicit self-direction—they are not something “I” do— reflects a pivotal feature of his conception of non-mindedness. Awareness of how we do what we do and use of the first-person pronoun to refer to our own abilities and actions are paradigmatic illustrations of reflective self-consciousness—that is, explicit, self-conscious awareness of one’s own self-conscious states or actions.22 Guo’s doctrine of non-mindedness, I suggest, is concerned largely with advocating that we cease to rely on reflectively self-conscious attitudes or states to guide action. Consider his example of “the feet not knowing how they walk.” In normal circumstances, we walk simply by engaging what Guo would call our “natural mechanisms,” without attending to what we are doing or at each step being aware that “I” am taking a step. To walk, we must have an implicit, subject-reflexive awareness of the movement of our body, our location relative to objects in our environment, the direction in which we are moving, and so forth.23 This implicit, first-order awareness of being engaged in walking can itself be the object of explicit, second-order awareness, but it need not be. While walking, for example, we can attend to and hence be explicitly conscious of the feeling of moving our legs and feet. We can employ the explicitly self-referential concept of “I” to think about and direct each step we take. But normally we do neither of these things. As the example of walking illustrates, much or even most of our activity in daily life is performed without reflective self-consciousness.

 For a discussion, see Gallagher and Zahavi 2005: section 3. In this context, “reflective” refers to the property of certain higher-order, self-conscious states of taking our own lower-order self-conscious states as their objects. 23  This implicit awareness is commonly referred to as pre-reflective self-consciousness. See Gallagher and Zahavi 2005: section 1, and Smith 2017: section 3.2. 22

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When Guo Xiang speaks of knowing how our mind knows or knowing how our feet walk, clearly he is alluding to a second-order, reflective awareness of our own first-order thought or activity. What may be less obvious is that his views on non-­ action and letting things occur so-of-themselves also imply a normative stance about the role of reflective self-consciousness in action. To take action or “have a mind” to do something entails a second-order, reflectively self-conscious attitude of adopting some course of action and undertaking to pursue it.24 By contrast, actions that arise “of themselves” do not require that we adopt second-order attitudes toward those courses of action themselves. We can simply act. Such immediate actions are still directed toward some implicit end, but this end need not be the object of reflective self-consciousness. We can illustrate these points by considering two contrasting examples. Suppose that, engrossed in writing this chapter, I become thirsty and without pausing to think about it take a sip from the glass of water on my desk. Although Guo Xiang does not use the terminology of intentions, we can say that I have acted on the implicit, self-so intention to drink water. I need not be reflectively self-conscious of this intention. Now suppose that, noticing I am thirsty, I pause to explicitly consider what to drink, decide to have milk instead of water, and accordingly form the explicit intention to walk to the kitchen to pour a glass of milk. Perhaps I even explicitly think to myself, “I’ll have a glass of milk.” Both examples are instances of intentional action, but only in the second case do I have reflective self-consciousness of my intention, since to form an explicit intention in thought, we must be conscious of that intention itself. As an interpretive hypothesis, then, I propose that for Guo Xiang non-­ mindedness entails the absence of explicit, reflectively self-conscious thought, specifically thought concerned with directing action. Conversely, “having mind” refers broadly to holding any explicit, determinate psychological attitude by which we self-­consciously direct or purport to direct action. Such attitudes might include explicit intentions, volitions, desires, goals, plans, judgments, or evaluations. “Having mind” is similar to the colloquial English notions of having made up one’s mind or having a mind to do something. To “have mind” is to act or think on the basis of fixed attitudes adopted and expressed by means of tracks, such as names, rather than to let thought and action issue dynamically from our inherent, autogenerating character and capacities as they “join in obscurity” with our practical circumstances. Action from “having mind” is inclined to run contrary to dao because fixed, predetermined attitudes can easily fail to fit changing, concrete situations.

 Taking action or “having a mind” to do something may, but need not, also involve reflectively self-conscious monitoring and direction of one’s activity. Minimally, however, it entails the second-order attitude of adopting some first-order end or course of action.

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6  Guo Xiang’s Normative Conception of Agency Guo Xiang thus presents a normative conception of genuine or nature-guided agency that issues from and aligns with dao. Normatively appropriate agency operates through non-action, which is autogenerated from our inherent character as it responds to and fits with (shi 適) our circumstances. It issues from implicit, indeterminate obscurity and so is non-minded, non-knowing, and associated with a blurring of the self-other distinction and forgetting of the self. This sort of activity arises from independent transformation and so conforms to dao. Given the inferential relations between different concepts in Guo’s theoretical framework, this normative stance follows directly from his metaphysical view of dao as immanent in the independent transformation of things. Guo Xiang contrasts such autogenerated non-action with a deprecated mode of agency that involves taking action, “having mind,” and knowing. In this mode of agency, reflectively self-conscious thought and attitudes determine action, often by reference to explicit tracks, such as conventional ethical norms. Such thought and attitudes impose our ends on circumstances and so tend to oppose or force things rather than flow along with them. In Guo’s view, this mode of agency runs contrary to dao. Because of how reflectively self-conscious attitudes can turn back on and interfere with the workings of our inherent character and natural mechanisms, reflective self-consciousness by its very nature tends to obstruct the process of independent transformation. Guo Xiang’s descriptions of this disvalued mode of action evoke a familiar pre-­ theoretical conception on which agency lies primarily in the reflectively self-­ conscious process of reaching decisions about what to do, typically represented by an inner monologue in which we employ the first-person pronoun. On this conception, agency lies in acting as an inward “I” explicitly directs in light of its desires, values, commitments, and so forth. Guo associates such explicit, reflectively self-­ conscious decision-making with taking action, rather than with activity that comes of itself through independent transformation. Hence he sees it as interfering with dao and free and easy wandering. To follow dao we need to set explicit decision-­ making aside and act on non-minded, autogenerated responses arising from interaction with our circumstances. If we conceive of agency in terms of explicit decision-making, Guo Xiang’s rhetoric of non-mindedness and non-action may seem tantamount to a rejection of agency itself. In fact, however, I suggest he is not rejecting agency but presenting a distinctive conception of normatively appropriate agency as contextually responsive activity that issues from our autogenerated inherent character. This conception may be unfamiliar, but I will argue that it is plausible and insightful, illuminating the nature of agency and the sources of value or normative grounds for action. It can be difficult to pin down exactly how Guo Xiang’s views relate to more familiar conceptions of action and agency, because the concepts and distinctions he employs—taking action versus non-action, having mind versus being non-minded, the “dark obscurity” of the actuality of things versus their explicit tracks, our mind

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versus our inherent character—correspond to no notions commonly employed in contemporary philosophy of mind and action. His descriptions of “taking action” or “having mind,” for example, do not map easily onto concepts such as volition, will, effort, cognition, deliberation, or intention, and hence it would be inaccurate to describe his stance specifically as a rejection of any of these.25 The crux of his view is not to repudiate thought, agency, or selfhood, but to identify their normatively appropriate expression with the flow of autogenerated independent transformation, which he takes to lie in the implicit, immediate responses of our inherent character rather than the explicit, reflectively self-conscious attitudes of the mind. In effect, he advocates a shift in our understanding of appropriate agency from “having a mind” to take various actions, in light of an explicit conception of an “I” that acts, to an indeterminate, non-minded responsiveness that is continually formed and reformed by the interplay between our inherent character and our circumstances. The nexus of genuine agency is not mind but inherent character, a view that, while clearly drawing on ideas present in the Zhuangzi (e.g., Guo 1961: 432, 552), Guo develops in a distinctive, original way, reshaping the concept of inherent character in the process. For Guo Xiang, then, the locus of agency lies in the autogenerated responses of our inherent character to our circumstances. The normatively appropriate exercise of agency has two dimensions: our inherent character, including our abilities and endowed allotment—our talents, limitations, physical and mental features, and so forth—and the responsiveness to and “good fit” of our activity with our situation. Guo advocates setting aside explicit, second-order action-guiding attitudes on the grounds that they are insufficiently responsive to our character and situation. However, on his picture, we still implicitly determine our own actions through the self-so, situational responses of our inherent character. To understand his stance, it helps to think through what is involved in acting according to dao—that is, proceeding along a suitable path of activity for the kind of agents we are, given our physical, psychological, social, and historical circumstances. For Guo Xiang, agency just is dao-performance, which can be responsive and fitting or oblivious and inept. To follow dao well is to flow along with the process of independent transformation, in which each of the myriad things—including ourselves—undergoes continuous development and transformation. Since both agents themselves and their social and physical environment are unfixed and changing, dao is indeterminate and open-ended, a matter of continually applying our own evolving dispositions and abilities to find a fitting path through circumstances that are themselves evolving. To carry out such a dao effectively, Guo Xiang maintains, we must act from immediate, non-minded responses of our inherent character.

 For this reason, I resist Brook Ziporyn’s characterization of Guo Xiang as presenting a “polemic against cognition in general” (Ziporyn 2003: 19) or as repudiating “consciousness, valuation, and volition” (Ziporyn 2003: 149). In my view, Ziporyn is on firmer ground when he speaks of Guo’s rejecting “reflective consciousness” and “reflective awareness” while allowing that there could be “deliberate volition” that is nonetheless spontaneous. See Ziporyn 2003: 38–40. Action that springs immediately and spontaneously from one’s inherent character can be purposive, conscious, and deliberate or intentional. What it cannot be, according to Guo Xiang, is grounded in or directed by explicit, reflectively self-aware attitudes.

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Consider the dao of a specific, concrete activity such as sailing a small boat. To sail well, one must constantly respond to fluctuations in the direction and strength of the wind, waves, and current while avoiding obstacles such as rocks, islands, and other boat traffic. The sailor continuously adjusts the mainsheet and tiller on the basis of an implicit feel for how smoothly and efficiently the boat is moving. Rules of thumb can be formulated about how to respond to various conditions, but explicit guidelines are at best only rough pointers—tracks, Guo Xiang would say—toward the actual activity. The activity itself is obscure, in Guo’s terms, for exactly how expert sailors respond in different circumstances cannot be specified explicitly. To learn to sail well is to master an art of constant adaptation, guided by feel. Such adaptation is non-minded, in that expert sailors empty themselves of any mind—any desire, plan, intention, or other action-directing attitude—to do anything in particular other than sail to the mark efficiently, letting the conditions they encounter determine the course they take. The finest sailors are those with the best feel for and keenest responses to the conditions, for whom the natural circumstances they encounter bear normative significance, presenting better or worse paths to follow. Of course, these paths and their normative valence emerge as such only against the background of the sailors’ underlying, implicit end of reaching the mark. But for Guo Xiang such implicit, contextualizing ends will always be present, arising from our inherent character, abilities, and endowed roles. The interplay between sailors’ actions and their circumstances illustrates how for Guo Xiang the normatively appropriate exercise of agency is inherently relational. To be sure, as we saw in section 2, Guo Xiang holds that dao lies in the independent transformation of each thing. Nothing extrinsic to things, nor a controlling self within, drives or generates them; their activity proceeds spontaneously from their own inherent, autogenerated character and abilities. Nevertheless, on his view, the course of action that comes so-of-itself for each of us will be a product of how our autogenerated, inherent dispositions and abilities respond to our circumstances. Our immediate ends and the particular course of action we follow take shape through an “obscure joining” of our capacities with our environment, including other persons with whom we interact.26 Each step in our own ongoing autogeneration remains indeterminate until we interact with the myriad things around us whose autotransformation also constitutes dao. The realization of our inherent character in self-so activity thus emerges from interaction with other agents and things. The interactive nature of agency is one reason Guo Xiang sees non-mindedness as crucial, for holding a predetermined course of action in mind interferes with open-ended responsiveness to circumstances. The relational, interactive nature of Guo Xiang’s normative conception of agency explains why he is unworried that allowing our inherent character to guide action might drive us to act purely for our own selfish interests, ignoring others’ needs. As he understands it, appropriate action can never involve imposing ourselves on other persons or ignoring their interests, since it requires that we apply our  Brook Ziporyn aptly depicts ming as a label for how the adept agent interacts with things, in contrast to interacting with them on the basis of determinate, self-conscious “knowing.” See Ziporyn 2003: 65.

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character and abilities to find fitting responses to circumstances, which include our relations to others. Indeed, his notion of “joining in obscurity” represents a profound conception of consideration for others, insofar as it grounds agency in attitudes that blur the boundaries between self and other, seeking what is self-so both for ourselves and for those whom our actions affect, whose autogenerated activity is as much part of dao as our own is. Guo Xiang’s emphasis on non-minded responses grounded in our inherent character might raise the worry that his stance entails a life of blind instinct, like that of lower-order animals who simply follow their fixed, innate character. His doctrine of non-action and of following a course that fits our endowed allotment may seem to imply passive acceptance of our lot in life, merely playing our preassigned role while relinquishing the initiative to reform or improve our situation.27 In fact, however, Guo’s conception of our inherent character, abilities, and endowed allotment clearly allows for change and development.28 It neither restricts us to instinctive behavior nor confines us to a predetermined course in life. Contrary to the typical assumption that people’s inherent character is innate and fixed, he expressly states that it can change and can be shaped through learning, provided the person has the wherewithal to absorb what is taught (Guo 1961: 518–519). Indeed, precisely because our inherent character can change, he thinks, we need to find dao through what is implicit, indeterminate, and obscure, rather than by fixed, explicit tracks— such as traditional norms of benevolence and righteousness—since tracks that suited others in the past may not fit our character today (Guo 1961: 518–519). Nor is inherent character limited to what we do instinctively or automatically. Abilities grounded in it may require repeated practice before they become manifest, and acquired activities such as swimming or boat-handling can become part of it through practice, thus becoming activity that is “so of itself” (Guo 1961: 642). Things do not always achieve “self-so patterns” by themselves; fulfilling these patterns may require “smelting and refining” or accumulative practice (Guo 1961: 257, 280). Guo Xiang thus valorizes non-minded action from one’s inherent character while also allowing that inherent character can be shaped, developed, or reformed. In response, a critic might object that such development or reform requires psychological resources that Guo denies us. A key to full-fledged agency, the objection might run, is the ability to self-consciously step back and think about one’s actions and ends, evaluating and revising them if needed. Unless the changes to our inherent character Guo envisions are purely a product of external influences—in which case his conception of agency would indeed be blind and passive, as well as “dependent”

 For the criticism that Guo Xiang advocates passively accepting existing conditions and one’s fixed role in life, see Wang 2007: 160, 168–169. For a detailed rebuttal of this interpretation, see Chen 2014: 358–360, 362–364. See, too, Brook Ziporyn’s discussion of charges of fatalism against Guo in Ziporyn 2003: 145; 2015: 413. 28  On this point, see Ziporyn 2003: 59, 143; 2015: 410–411, and Chen 2014: 363. On the controversy over whether Guo Xiang posits a fixed nature of things, see Ziporyn 2015: 407. Despite the textual evidence to the contrary, Tang Yijie, for instance, states that for Guo xing cannot be changed. See Tang 2000: 230. 27

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on factors outside the agent—the capacity to modify or reform our attitudes and conduct seems to require some form of explicit, critical self-examination. But Guo Xiang’s stance implies that justified changes could occur only through implicit, immediate responses of our inherent character, not explicit thought. Indeed, he insists that we not act contrary to our inherent character or attempt to “enhance” it by emulating what is not part of it (Guo 1961: 496, 523). It seems, then, that any changes to our inherent character must come from within it. In response to this critical worry, let me suggest that Guo Xiang can in fact offer a coherent, plausible explanation of justified, agent-directed character change, albeit one that rejects the premise that explicit, second-order self-examination is essential to our capacity for modifying our character and actions. Indeed, he could argue that even when we do explicitly evaluate our actions, ends, or character, any justified changes that follow are actually grounded in the implicit responses of our inherent character. For on his view, any grounds for action that are genuinely fitting expressions of our agency—that reflect our actual dispositions, abilities, and so forth and that are fitting responses to the patterns of our circumstances—must arise of themselves through autogeneration. Such grounds issue from indeterminate obscurity and so cannot be the objects of explicit thought. Hence to be genuinely responsive to our own autogenerated grounds for action—and thus to dao—we must act from the implicit responses of our inherent character. Guo Xiang could allow that such responses might sometimes be prompted by explicit, reflectively self-conscious evaluation. For example, he could acknowledge a role for explicit thought in clarifying problems, to which our inherent character then responds. But the responses themselves will be autogenerated, rather than the outcome of explicit thought and decision. Although Guo Xiang’s position here may seem far-fetched, I suggest it is defensible and indeed almost commonsensical. His stance amounts to the claim that dao is immanent in implicit action-guiding attitudes—such as values, preferences, desires, judgments, and so forth—that “just come” to us when we absorb ourselves in our circumstances. Indeed, it seems we often discover our most basic, reliable grounds for action through the immediate, self-so responses of our inherent character. For example, many of us have had the experience of explicitly pondering a decision only to realize we have already implicitly made it or of laying out the pros and cons of two alternatives only to find we have already pre-reflectively settled on one. Many of our moral judgments rest on brute, bedrock values that come so-of-­ themselves to us, such as the value of family members’ lives or of fairness or equality. On Guo Xiang’s model, then, what might prompt change and reform to our inherent character and the dao we follow? His criteria for apt dao-following are that our activity flows freely (tong 通, shun 順) and fits the abilities and endowed allotment of things, allowing each to proceed in a way that is so-of-itself. Living well in this way is characterized by ease or calm (an 安) and freedom from dependence on any specific external conditions. On Guo’s behalf, we can plausibly contend that these criteria or their absence can induce changes in our inherent character. For example, people for whom an acquired skill such as swimming or boat-handling has

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become second nature probably learned their skill through an unforced, free-­flowing course of action. Perhaps they lived near water, were drawn to these activities, and found them a comfortable, satisfying fit for their dispositions and abilities. Through repeated practice, swimming or boating ultimately became part of their inherent character. Conversely, if some course of activity leads to obstacles, distress, or conflict with our autogenerated responses, then our actions fail to flow freely, bring difficulty instead of ease, and fit our situation or our dispositions poorly. To resolve the problems, changes to our course or our character may be needed. The appropriate path of reform would in turn be discovered through autogenerated responses of our inherent character aimed at finding a more fitting course, perhaps by trial and error (Guo 1961: 281).

7  Conclusion To return to the questions posed in the Introduction, on Guo Xiang’s picture, following dao and attaining free-and-easy wandering indeed bring with them self-­ fulfillment, but the self in question is constituted by the ongoing independent transformation or autogeneration of our inherent character and its abilities as they interact with the environment. This process of autogeneration and self-fulfillment can proceed smoothly and fittingly, Guo contends, only when it is non-minded, or occurs without explicit, reflectively self-conscious direction. “Minded” activity, guided by explicit attitudes toward fixed tracks, interferes with it, as such attitudes are at best one step removed from the indeterminate, obscure actuality of autogeneration and dao. Any attempt to direct our course by explicitly “having a mind” to do something amounts to taking action and to depending on something external to us instead of flowing along with the autogenerated, non-dependent dao. Guo’s doctrine of non-mindedness thus rests on his account of dao as immanent in the autogenerated, non-dependent activity of things. Stripped of technical terminology, Guo Xiang’s stance is that the good life—a life of intrinsic self-fulfillment and thus psychological freedom and ease—is to live according to how the dynamically developing dispositions, abilities, and resources we have at any one time interact with the concrete situations we encounter. Since there is no dao—and thus no ethical path—outside of each person’s ongoing course of development, the only legitimate normative grounds for action are those that yield the best, most adaptive fit between our dispositions and our situation. A fascinating, profound feature of Guo’s thought is how it grounds normativity in human self-fulfillment, albeit a distinctive conception of self-fulfillment achieved by adeptly and unselfishly adjusting our course to the shape of our circumstances.29

 Brook Ziporyn expresses this point with Daoist flair: “real value … resides precisely in nonawareness: the fitting comfortableness of the traceless self-forgetting self-so.” Ziporyn 2015: 404.

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This chapter has presented an interpretation of Guo Xiang’s views on agency and how they fit together with his metaphysical view of dao. In seeking to clarify Guo’s ideas, I have argued that several potentially puzzling features of his thought are in fact intelligible and at least prima facie plausible. Still, if Guo’s position as a whole is to prove defensible, numerous aspects of his thought call for further examination. Ultimately, his normative views on agency stand or fall with his account of dao and thus of the sources of normativity. So, above all a thorough defense is needed of his doctrine of dao as independent transformation. To bolster his normative stance, his conception of good fit, expressed through terms such as shi 適, yi 宜, and dang 當, requires further elucidation and elaboration. The metaphysical and psychological implications of his complex, challenging notion of ming (obscurity) require clarification and defense, and it remains to be shown to what extent the psychological state of “joining in obscurity” with things is a practicable norm or only a vague theoretical ideal. A further question is whether Guo Xiang’s wholesale dismissal of “having mind” is justified. Even if we acknowledge the priority of non-­ minded activity, perhaps “minded” thought or action might nevertheless have a legitimate role in facilitating appropriate non-minded responses.

Bibliography Chan, Alan K.L. 2009. “Neo-Daoism.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy, 303–323. London: Routledge. Chan, Alan K.L. 2019. “Neo-Daoism.” Available online: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ neo-daoism/. Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chan, Chi-Keung 陳志強. 2014. “A Defense of Guo Xiang’s Philosophy 對郭象哲學所受質疑提 出辯解.” Qinghua Journal of Chinese Studies, 44.3: 351–384. Gallagher, Shaun and Dan Zahavi. 2005. “Phenomenological Approaches to Self-­ Consciousness.” Available online: https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/ self-consciousness-phenomenological/ Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1961. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1997. Capacity-Nature and Profound Patterns 才性與玄理. Taipei: Xuesheng Shuju. Smith, Joel. 2017. “Self-Consciousness.” Available online: https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/ fall2017/entries/self-consciousness/ Tai, Lianchang 戴璉璋. 1995. “The Theories of Self Creation and Mystical Unification in the Philosophy of Kuo Hsiang 郭象的自生說與玄冥論.” Bulletin of the Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, 7: 39–77. Tang, Yijie 湯一介. 2000. Guo Xiang and Wei-Jin Profound Learning 郭象與魏晉玄學. Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe. Wang, Deyou 王德有. 1987. “A Few Points about Guo Xiang’s Philosophy and Several Corresponding Concepts 郭象哲学的基點及相應的幾個概念.” Journal of Literature, History and Philosophy, 1: 28–34. Wang, Zhongjiang 王中江. 2007. “Some Difficulties in Guo Xiang’s Philosophy and its Incoherence 郭象哲學的一些困境及其解體.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy and Culture, 2: 152–182.

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Zhu, Hanmin 朱漢民. 2011. Research on the Approach to Academic Thought in Profound Learning and Pattern Learning 玄學與理學的學術思想理路研究. Taipei: National Taiwan University. Ziporyn, Brook. 2003. The Penumbra Unbound: The Neo-Taoist Philosophy of Guo Xiang. Albany: State University of New York Press. Ziporyn, Brook. 2015. “The Self-So and the Repudiation-cum-Reaffirmation of Deliberate Action and Knowledge.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 397–423. Dordrecht: Springer. Chris Fraser is Professor and Chairperson in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Hong Kong. He is the author of The Philosophy of the Mozi (2016), and The Essential Mozi (2019). He has published dozens of research articles on early Chinese ethics, epistemology, philosophy of language and logic, and philosophy of mind and action. His work can be accessed at: cjfraser.net.

Chapter 19

Lone-Transformation and Intergrowth: Philosophy and Self-Justification in Guo Xiang’s Commentary on the Zhuangzi Yuet Keung Lo

1  Introduction Guo Xiang’s 郭象 (d. 312 CE)1 “Commentary on the Zhuangzi” (Zhuangzi Zhu 莊 子注) captures the ethos of depravity and opportunism during the Wei-Jin period (220–420 CE). Indeed, it is at once a testimony and embodiment. As a work of philosophy, the commentary made important contributions to the history of Chinese thought and even offered a new cosmology of autogenesis free of an intelligent heaven or a primal cause—a powerful worldview that would inspire the metaphysics of principle and coherence in Neo-Confucianism. Not only was the cosmology original in its articulation, it also marked and masked a conscious attempt to justify and sustain a fashionable, if not ideal, way of life of moral dereliction. For instance, lone-transformation (duhua 獨化)—the idea that each being in the universe is in charge of its own genesis and development—aspires for an autonomous life of self-­ determination, and carried to its logical conclusion, it could represent a radical departure from the relational nature of human society in the Confucian political order. This ambition appealed to many scholar-officials and literati in Wei-Jin China as they pursued a hedonistic lifestyle unrestrained by ritual demands that stipulated social commitments and regulated interpersonal relationships. However, the advocacy of lone-transformation would not be intelligible if the universe consists of only one single being; loneness is meaningful only when it is situated in a multitude of 1  The authorship of the commentary on the Zhuangzi bearing Guo Xiang’s name has been controversial since probably his own time. Guo was accused of plagiarizing an earlier commentary by Xiang Xiu 向秀 (ca. 227–272 CE). It was probable that Guo had borrowed from Xiang’s work but circumstantial evidence suggests that he did write his own commentary. Recently, Kang Zhongqian 康中乾 argued for Guo’s sole authorship. See Kang 2005.

Y. K. Lo (*) Department of Chinese Studies, National University of Singapore, Singapore, Singapore © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_19

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beings which pursue a trajectory of lone-transformation themselves. Such ontological homeostasis of co-existing and co-arising beings is called intergrowth (xiangyin 相因). Yet, as each being is, in a sense, mutually dependent upon all other beings in effecting its lone-transformation, loneness does not appear to be realistic. Is lone-­ transformation possible after all? To answer such questions, this chapter proposes to unpack the exact meanings of the dual concept of lone-transformation and intergrowth as well as their relationship, and to examine the tension between lone-­ transformation vis-à-vis the myriad beings.

2  Ontology of Beings The short-lived Western Jin (265–317 CE) dynasty of thirty-eight chaotic years was plagued with power struggles among imperial family members that ended in warfare and bloodshed, political intrigues at court, natural disasters, and barbarian invasions. Guo Xiang survived these tragic years until he died in 312 CE, five years before the Jin regime was forced to flee across the Huai River to the south with its powerful aristocratic clans. Any sensitive soul would be able to see that change literally loomed large on everyone’s daily agenda. But a deep thinker such as Guo Xiang would contemplate upon such a situation in order to find a way through such treacherous currents of change, enjoying his life in the midst of it all. Guo was also a calculative politician apparently of a competitive streak and was infamous for his lack of virtues; he declined all invitations to serve in the local government. Finally, he managed to find a powerful patron in Prince Donghai 東海王 and secure a high-­ ranking post as secretary to the prince’s tutor. Somehow, he also earned his trust. He was given full authority over punishments and rewards and his power could influence the entire court. From 291 to 306 CE, a series of civil wars notoriously known as the Rebellion of the Eight Princes (ba wang zhi luan 八王之亂) was fought among the enfeoffed members of the imperial family in an attempt to succeed the ailing emperor. Prince Donghai survived all his competitors and gained control of the court, though he did not realize his ambition in the end due to a fatal ailment. Apparently, Guo Xiang understood the politics in his time well and certainly knew with whom he should align. Though condemned by public opinion, he avoided being implicated in the rebellious ambition of his dictatorial patron, who died a year before he would.2 In all likelihood, Guo’s commentary on the Zhuangzi was his personal guide to a good and prosperous life, but its popularity indicates that it also spoke for many people in his time and much later. Guo Xiang’s thought is rich and complex; it covers ontology, teleology, language, ethics, politics, theory of history, spiritual cultivation, and more. More important, his ideas in all these areas are integrated into a holism that can be translated into a practical philosophy of life. Guo’s commentary on the Zhuangzi

2  Guo Xiang’s biography appears in the History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書). See Fang 1974: 5.50.1396-1397.

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dominated much of the indigenous thought in early medieval China and remained influential throughout the imperial period. While it is not easy to pin down one single concern that runs through his multifarious thought, there is an unmistakable refrain on change and transformation that cries out repeatedly in concise glosses and beautiful prose in his remarks. On a superficial level, the term hua 化 (change, transformation) appears nearly 300 times in his commentary, and of all the key concepts in the text, it is one of the most frequently used.3 Grounded on a dynamic ontology, hua occurs on both a metaphysical and personal level. No later than the first century, Wang Chong 王充 (27–97  CE) already argued against the time-­ hallowed belief that heaven gave birth to the myriad things. For instance, he said: Heaven has no intention in its movement of giving birth to things; things give birth to themselves. This is called self-so. [Heaven] releases primal energy with no intention of creating things; things create themselves. This is called non-action. Why is it that heaven is being self-so and engages in non-action? This is due to primal energy.

天動不欲以生物, 而物自生, 此則自然也。施氣不欲為物, 而物自為, 此則無為 也。謂天自然無為者何? 氣也 (Liu 1958: 366).4

Wang believed in a non-conscious and non-purposive heaven, which is ontologically constituted of primal energy (qi 氣) and manifests itself in the body of the blue sky (cangcang zhi tian 蒼蒼之天).5 As such, heaven is, as it were, mere stuff. For Wang, omens and portents are nothing but the natural outcomes of the primal energy’s own doing. Indeed, he was rebelling against the Han state ideology which believed in a willful heaven that would send omens to endorse or condemn the performance of the imperial court and local governments as well as the emperor and officials in charge of them.6 The intimate correlation between heaven and man, called mutual resonance (ganying 感應), was an article of foundational faith in much of the Han period. By extension, the emperor as “Son of Heaven” also could have a direct impact of resonance on the common people’s livelihoods, hence, he would typically attribute the occurrence of natural disasters to his own failure in self-cultivation.7 In a sense, denying the heaven-man correlation effectively severed the link to human transcendence as heaven was no longer revered as the ultimate source of human excellence and the unity of heaven and man would become  For comparison, wu 無 (non-being) appears over 1000 times, you 有 (being) some 700 times, xing 性 (nature) over 270 times, and ming 命 (destiny) about 80 times. Whether Guo Xiang indeed plagiarized Xiang Xiu’s commentary, their views were indeed similar in many ways. I have noted elsewhere that based on Xiang’s commentary, the concern with change and transformation was also evident. See Lo 2015: 425–448, esp. 442–443. 4  Wang also said: “The way of heaven lies in being so of itself and engaging in non-action 自然無 為, 天之道也” (Liu 1958: 59). 5  Wang Chong said: “Heaven is a body, just like earth 夫天者, 體也, 與地同.” See Liu 1958: 508. See also Liu 1958: 137, where heaven is described as the blue sky. 6  Liu 1958: 301. 7  In the year of 76, soon after Emperor Zhang came to throne, an earthquake struck, and he took the guilt and blame upon himself, saying that it was caused (ganying) by his lack of virtue. See Fan 1971: 5.42.1436–37. 3

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impossible.8 On the other hand, the delinking also gave pivotal importance to man because instead of man striving to act in accordance with heaven’s guidance, heaven’s purposes were now considered the brainchild of the human mind. Essentially, man should take the initiative and be in charge; it is superstitious to look for guidance from heaven. Yet, Wang Chong’s attempt to naturalize heaven did not gain currency until much later.9 The state ideology of mutual resonance began to loosen its grip on the educated elite after the debacle of the Han dynasty, and owing in part to Wang Chong’s pioneering efforts, Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) went one step further to complete the naturalization of heaven in his commentaries on the Classic of Changes 易經 and Daodejing 道德經. He said categorically that “‘heaven’ is the name of a form and [the virtue of] strength is what makes the form useful 天也者, 形之名也。健也者, 用形者也.”10 While Wang Chong identified heaven with primal energy in the body of the blue sky, Wang Bi reduced it to a mere name for a particular form, which, unlike primal energy, is not self-sufficient and self-operative. Yet, Wang Bi’s view of heaven is by no means static. Heaven as a form, when empowered by the virtue (de 德) called “strength,” becomes functional and as a result, the seasonal cycle, for instance, will be in order. This is what is famously known as the symbiotic relation between substance (ti 體) and function (yong 用) in Wang Bi’s philosophical terminology. Essentially, this means that all entities have potentialities, which can be actualized when appropriately made operative in a given circumstance. Ontologically, a particular form such as heaven has a name unique to itself, but conceptually it is called you 有 (something or being). All tangible and perceptible entities belong to the class of something and collectively, they are called You, Something or Being, which is free of particularities yet contains the names of particular physical forms. Similarly, any particular virtue such as strength is called wu 無 (nothing or non-being) and what characterizes all virtues which empower their respective something is also called Wu (Nothing or Non-Being), which is void of any particular virtue but engenders all possible virtues. It is by virtue of wu that you can manifest its function. In this sense, the world as a whole is You and as such, it is the manifestation of Wu that makes it function the way it is. Nothing/Non-Being is actually a makeshift name that suggests the all-inclusive range of potentialities and possibilities without being limited by any specificity, but it can easily lead to the misunderstanding that it is in fact void. In actuality, wu is conceived in relation to you, and it means “empty of particularities” rather than void. Since particularities are multitudinous, they are called many (duo 多). By contrast, what engenders them is singular and it is called one (yi 一). As wu engenders you, it is analogized as its root (ben 本) or mother (mu 母), or simply beginning (shi 始).11 But according to

 For heaven as the source and guidance for human conduct in early China, see Ivanhoe 2007.  See the chapter by Alexus McLeod in this Companion for more. 10  Wang Bi also considers “‘earth’ to be the name of the form 地也者, 形之名也.” See Lou 1999: 213. 11  See Wang Bi’s commentary on chapters 1 and 39 of the Daodejing in Lou 1999: 1; 105–106. 8 9

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Wang Bi, names are not things that exist in themselves; instead of using names, he would rather call that which engenders actual real entities “formless and nameless” (wuxing wuming 無形無名) to obviate the danger of misconstruing it as an actual void.12 In this context, heaven, being a mere name, is not ultimate as it belongs to the realm of Something; it neither initiates birth-giving nor gives birth to anything. In Wang Bi’s metaphysics, heaven is rendered irrelevant, yet due to the virtues of strength, non-competitiveness, and inclusiveness associated with it, it remains the model for self-cultivation.13 Still, the naturalization of heaven did not receive a full-fledged decausalization until Guo Xiang. Ontologically, Guo argued unequivocally that the myriad things do not come from something else other than their own being. He wrote: Heaven-and-earth is a summatory name for the totality of the myriad things. The myriad things constitute the body of heaven and earth and invariably regard the way they are as normal. Being as they are means being what they are without conscious attempt.14

天地者, 萬物之總名也。天地以萬物為體, 而萬物必以自然為正。自然者, 不為 而自然者也 (Guo 1985: 20).

Like Wang Bi, Guo Xiang also considered heaven to be a name, despite its different denotation in his thinking. Indeed, the term zongming 總名, which does not appear in Wang Bi’s writings, is noteworthy. Only things that share common characteristics can be classified under one name; they belong to the same type. In Ban Gu’s 班固 (32–92 CE) Evidential Explanations of Comprehensive [Meanings as Discussed in] White Tiger Hall (Baihu Tong 白虎通) it is said: ‘Human being’ is the summatory name for men and women together. Why is it that heaven and earth together do not have a summatory name? It is because heaven is round and earth is square, and they do not belong to the same category, so they do not have a summatory name.

男女總名為人。天地所以無總名何? 曰天圓地方不相類, 故無總名也 (Chen 1994: 422).

In Guo Xiang’s understanding, not only do heaven and earth as distinct entities belong to the same category, but together as a name, heaven-and-earth also indicates that the myriad things it denotes are ontologically of the same nature—they are all self-generated. Just as heavenly piping (tianlai 天籟) is comprised of the multitudinous sounds coming out from the countless orifices and cavities of the trees in a forest, the myriad things merge together to form one single heaven (Guo 1985: 50). Heaven in this sense is equivalent to what we would call Mother Nature today. Thus, the conscious and purposive heaven in Han times was completely naturalized.

12  Wang Bi says: “That which is formless and nameless is the ancestor of the myriad things 無形 無名者, 萬物之宗也.” See Wang’s commentary on chapters 1 and 14 of the Daodejing in Lou 1999: 1; 32. 13  See Wang’s commentary on chapters 73 and 77 of the Daodejing in Lou 1999: 182; 186–187. 14  Sometimes, Guo Xiang simply says heaven is “name which sums up the totality of the myriad things.” See Guo 1985: 50.

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If a summatory name is to be identified in Wang Bi’s thinking, it would be, paradoxically, the term “nameless” because that which encapsulates all forms and the virtues which empower them is ineffable. Put differently, it is the myriad forms and the multitudinous virtues which empower them that constitute Non-Being. Guo Xiang took issue with this notion of Nothingness/Non-Being. He argued that: Being a void as it is, Nothing cannot engender Something; before Something is born, it is not capable of giving birth [to something]. What, then, engenders Something after all? Of its own accord, [Something] engenders itself and that is all. Since only [things] can engender themselves, it means they are not engendered by me. Since I cannot engender things, neither can they engender me, thus I am being what I am of my own accord. Being the way that I am, this is called being the way that heaven is. Being just the way that heaven is, is not to be artificially so, hence it is described as being heaven. The reason why it is described as being heaven is to explain [the fact that] things are what they are of their own accord. Surely heaven does not mean the blue sky!

無既無矣, 則不能生有; 有之未生, 又不能為生。然則生生者誰哉? 塊然而自生 耳。自生耳, 非我生也。我既不能生物, 物亦不能生我, 則我自然矣。自己而然, 則謂之天然。天然耳, 非為也, 故以天言之。以天言之所以明其自然也, 豈蒼蒼 之謂哉 (Guo 1985: 50).

It seems evident that Guo was responding to what he understood to be Wang Bi’s metaphysics of genesis and perhaps to Wang Chong’s as well since he denied heaven as the blue sky. Wang Bi thus said: “That which is something invariably comes from nothing, thus before it reveals its form and when it has no name, it is then the beginning of the myriad things 凡有皆始於無, 故未形無名之時, 則為萬 物之始” (Lou 1999: 1). While the Daodejing evidently talked about the origin of the existential world, Wang Bi might have different interpretive interests in his commentary. Regardless, Guo Xiang’s exposition suggests that he believed his predecessor shared Laozi’s view on metaphysics. Cosmologically, Guo argues, Nothing and Something do not form a symbiotic relation between all-inclusivity and particularities, thus Something engenders itself of its own accord and does not come from Nothing, because, as he understood it, Nothing is an actual void which could not give birth to Something. For him, the perceptible and tangible world is a totality of somethings, which give birth to themselves15; it is identified as heaven, which is nothing but a state in which each of the somethings being the way it is of its own accord (tianzhe, ziran ye 天者, 自然也)16; it is not a function of something external to it. Something is not caused by anything from without. Self and other are not genetically linked. In other words, things are self-generated independently. More importantly, Guo Xiang wanted to emphasize that something is not caused by anything from within either. Thus, within a thing itself, there is not a conscious force, called wo 我 (self or ego), which drives it towards self-generation. As Guo put it: “Self-so engenders me and I engender myself of my own accord.

 Guo writes: “How can not-having-something establish anything? Since [the text says] ‘establish always with not-having-something,’ this shows that things establish themselves 夫無有何所能建? 建之以常無有, 則明有物之自建也.” See Guo 1985: 1094. 16  See Guo 1985: 471. 15

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Thus, self-so means the way I am being myself. Surely, self-so is not far away [from me] 自然生我, 我自然生。故自然者, 即我之自然, 豈遠之哉” (Guo 1985: 56). When self is dissolved into a self-generative and self-sustaining state and function, subjectivity evaporates. This new concept of self, as will be shown, had profound implications for Guo’s idea of lone-transformation. For human beings as a whole, heaven is no longer relevant, nor do things other than humans themselves matter. Human beings are entirely on their own. In Wang Bi’s terms, human beings are now “rootless.”

3  Structure of Reality and the Ultimate Cause of no Cause In the Confucian tradition, the union between heaven and man was understood as an upward aspiration. In Analects 14.35, Confucius said: “I do not complain against heaven, nor do I blame Man. In my studies, I start from below and get through to what is up above. If I am understood at all, it is, perhaps, by heaven” (Lau 1979: 129). Clearly, heaven was revered as the ultimate standard that guides a fulfilling life. Hence, “the gentleman aspires upward (shangda 上達) while the small man sinks down below” (xiada 下達) [Analects 14.23]. In fact, even Zhuangzi shared this ascending ambition; the book of Zhuangzi opens with the best illustration with the gigantic Peng bird soaring above the blue sky for a six-month long stratospheric flight from the northern ocean to the Lake of Heaven (tianchi 天池). However, Guo Xiang either downplayed the significance of upward transcendence in the Zhuangzi or simply ignored it in his commentary; there is not a single metaphor of soaring beyond the mundane existence in his own philosophizing. Instead, Guo wrote: “Reaching out in the four directions means being able to resonate [with one’s surrounds] and extend [one’s influences]; reaching out thus enables one to ride on loftiness and greatness 感應旁通為四達。旁通, 故可以御高大也” (Guo 1985: 692). In this singular remark about spiritual elevation, extensive magnitude replaces lofty altitude. Little wonder that Guo Xiang used the term ganying 感應 only once in his entire commentary of nearly 10,000 words as he reduced the purposive heaven to a natural order of things without a purpose. Still, it is even more telling that resonance now works only among things on the same plane of existence as if they were trapped together. When heaven is naturalized, the cosmos seems to be reduced to a two-­dimensional plane of reality. Guo’s interpretation of free and easy wandering (xiaoyou 逍遙) is the most blatant example where the little quail which enjoys itself fluttering in the woods is considered equally free and easy as the gigantic Peng bird. There is no difference between the stratosphere and the woods. Heaven is flattened as it were. Domain (chang 場) was a fundamental and unique concern to Guo Xiang and he was indeed the first thinker who transformed an ordinary term for a physical field (e.g., chicken coop) or space (e.g., battlefield) into a conceptual sphere of redeeming human activities. While the term does not appear in the Zhuangzi, Guo used it eight times in his commentary and, invariably, it refers to the “domain of

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self-­attainment” (zide zhi chang 自得之場) where one enjoys free and easy wandering.17 For him, this is the epitome of wandering (you 遊), which, in fact, is the ultimate goal of life. As Guo explained: “The world and the myriad things change day after day in a ceaseless process of unfolding in a way of their own; at any given moment, the sprout of change is budding but nobody really knows why. It is just a matter of spontaneity 夫天地萬物, 變化日新, 與時俱往, 何物萌之哉? 自然而然 耳” (Guo 1985: 55). Thus, life is a journey full of changes and, albeit clueless about their causes, we must manage to meander along (you bianhua zhi tu 遊變化之途) (Guo 1985: 20). Naturally, the journey takes place on a flattened domain. Since the life journey is full of ceaseless changes, it is only natural that Guo Xiang had tried to understand how they came about, and, more fundamentally, what might have caused them so that he could prepare for, if not predict, the volatile future. Change presupposes the existence of something; it is an act or process through which something becomes different. To understand the nature of change, it would seem that the first question to ask is how things, including oneself, come to be. Following Wang Bi, Guo believed that whatever exists must have a reason for its existence.18 He said: “There is not a thing that does not have a reason or coherence for its existence” (wu wu buli 物無不理) (Guo 1985: 746). In Xuanxue thinking, li 理 refers to the pattern that makes a thing cohere; it accounts for its state of existence. A thing’s coherence justifies its existence, but it does not explain the cause of its existence. Apparently, this puzzle inspired Guo Xiang to explore what change was all about. As the previous quotation states, Guo Xiang was skeptical about the existence of the “sprout” (meng 萌) of change. As it turned out, his inquiry into the nature of change actually became a repudiation of causality, and his attack came on four different fronts. First, as discussed above, in the context of intellectual history, Guo examined the nature of things in philosophical terms such as you, wu, and ziran inherited from Wang Bi, Wang Chong, and indeed all the way back to the Daodejing and Zhuangzi. He argued for an ontology of self-generation of the myriad things, effectively denying any external cause of genesis. He debunked the longstanding belief in heaven as the life-giving agent and the ultimate source of moral values. What is more, he refused to accept that Nothing, which he understood as an actual void, could be the ultimate source that accounts for Something. Things simply give birth to themselves and subsist on their own.  See Guo 1985: 1, 126, 148, 162, 218, 279, 293, and 566. By contrast, Wang Bi did not use the term chang 場 in his extant writings, though he was particularly concerned with the position (wei 位) a person finds himself in the unpredictable process of seeking a successful outcome. Position changes in response to time but domain is fixed even though changes are constant within it because of the shifting interdependency and intergrowth involved among the myriad things. 18  Wang Bi said: “Things do not exist by happenstance and must follow their coherence 物無妄然, 必由其理” (Lou 1999: 591). In fact, Guo Xiang himself quoted Wang Bi almost verbatim: “Things do not exist by happenstance; they are the convergences [of other things] between heaven and earth where the ultimate coherence coheres 物無妄然, 皆天地之會, 至理所趣” (Guo 1985: 219). Specifically about human beings, Guo said: “Human births are not mistakes 人之生也, 非誤 生也” (Guo 1985: 213). 17

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Second, Guo Xiang denied any inner agency (self, ego, volition) that causes a thing to exist. Inner agency, of course, is logically posterior to a thing’s existence, but in the case of human beings, inner agency, as Guo understands it, may refer to the child’s wish to be born or the parents’ desire to give birth.19 Neither is the effective, if relevant, cause for the child’s birth. Third, Guo Xiang pondered another kind of causality and rejected it as well. He said: Heaven is the summatory name for the myriad things. Wherever a thing happens to be, it is its heaven. Who is there to make things serve him like a master? Thus, things engender themselves of their own accord and do not come from somewhere else. This is the way of heaven.

天者, 萬物之總名也, 莫適為天, 誰主役物乎? 故物各自生而無所出焉, 此天道也 (Guo 1985: 50).

In the cosmic web of things, every member exists on its own and is equal in its own right; there is no master-servant relationship between things in which the master’s existence justifies that of the servant. In practical terms, heaven is the domain where beings including the human species happen to find themselves coexisting with other fellow beings where no particular species is naturally or artificially privileged because they all come into being independently. More importantly, none can rise above the rest as the master because heaven is flat. In this sense, heaven is also egalitarian and the myriad things are all equal in their membership in heaven.

19  Indeed, Wang Chong contended long ago that: “Heaven covers from above and earth lies underneath; the primal energy from below steams upward while that from above descends downward, and the myriad things give birth to themselves in between. When they are being born, heaven no longer participates in the process, just as the father does not know it when the child is in the mother’s womb. Things give birth to themselves and children complete their own lives. What do heaven and earth and fathers and mothers have to do with it? 夫天覆於上, 地偃於下, 下氣烝上, 上氣降下, 萬物自生其中間矣。當其生也, 天不須復與也, 由[猶]子在母懷中, 父不能知也。 物自生, 子自成, 天地父母, 何與知哉” (Liu 1958: 366). Wang’s idea was very much alive at the end of the Han dynasty. Kong Rong 孔融 (153–208 CE), a twentieth-generation descendant of Confucius, was accused of making the following statement: “Between father and son, what kind of affection is there? Examining the fundamental reason [why the son is born], one would find that it is really triggered by desires. Between mother and son, how is she any different? It is comparable to something that is kept in a vessel, which taken out, is separated from it 父之於子, 當有何親? 論其本意, 實為情欲發耳。子之於母, 亦復奚為? 譬如寄物缶中, 出則離矣” (Fan 1971: 2278). Whether Kong Rong was actually guilty or not, he was executed for this and other crimes he allegedly committed. Of course, the parents are external to the child, but Wang Chong contrasted the physical agency with the motivating force behind it. Thus, there is an inner-outer dichotomy. For Wang, gestation and birth is not a volitional event. Guo Xiang concurred: “On the way of change and transformation, there is not a thing that one may not encounter. Now if one encounters the human form [at birth], surely it is not the result of conscious effort. Birth is not caused by conscious effort; it happens to come into being at the right time. If one contrives to possess it, is it not preposterous? 夫變化之道, 靡所不遇, 今一遇人形, 豈故為哉? 生非故為, 時自生耳。務而有 之, 不亦妄乎” (Guo 1985: 263).

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Finally, Guo Xiang dismissed causality in terms of logical anteriority: What exists prior to all things? I thought Yin and Yang exist prior to all things, yet Yin and Yang themselves are nothing but things. What, then, comes prior to Yin and Yang? I thought self-so comes prior to them, yet self-so is nothing but things being themselves. I thought the ultimate Dao exists prior to things, yet the ultimate Dao is in fact the ultimate Nothing (i.e., the great void). Being what it is, how can Nothing exist prior to anything? Thus, considered, what is it that exists prior to all things? [Keeping asking and you will find] something else will come up ceaselessly. This shows that things are what they are of their own accord; it is not that they are made so.

誰得先物者乎哉? 吾以陰陽為先物, 而陰陽者即所謂物耳。誰又先陰陽者乎? 吾 以自然為先之, 而自然即物之自爾耳。吾以至道為先之矣, 而至道者乃至無也。 既以無矣, 又奚為先? 然則先物者誰乎哉? 而猶有物, 無已, 明物之自然, 非有使然 也 (Guo 1985: 764).

While there is an order of anteriority amongst things, it cannot be established between the totality of things and whatever lies outside, therefore, there cannot be any causal relation between the two as far as their geneses are concerned. Since the ultimate cause of things as a whole cannot be anything itself existing merely contingently, the search for it will be futile as it can only lead to an infinite regress. Thus, Guo Xiang concluded there is no ultimate cause for things as a whole; things are uncaused. Thus, they can only engender themselves of their own accord. In Guo’s terminology, being uncaused means independent (wudai 無待) of causality.20 Being independent, things evolve on their own course, thus being uncaused is also called lone-transformation (duhua 獨化). As Guo put it, “when the inference is pushed to the end, what is now considered dependence will terminate with independence, and the principle of lone-transformation becomes clear 推而極之, 則今之所謂有待者 卒至於無待, 而獨化之理彰矣” (Guo 1985: 961). As will be shown, lone-­ transformation also refers to an entity’s interdependent evolution itself.

4  Transformations in a Flattened Heaven As mentioned above, although Guo Xiang denied the ultimate cause of things, he acknowledged that whatever exists must have a cause or reason for its existence. This is a critical point because without this fundamental belief, it seems that change cannot be explained at all. In that case, life as a process of ceaseless changes waiting to happen will be inexplicable as well. In later Chinese usage, the binome yuangu 原故 means “reason or cause” in a generic sense. It is worth noting that it was actually Guo Xiang who coined it, although in his usage it means “the original or first cause” that gives rise to a phenomenon, which will lead to a series of undesirable consequences. For instance, the “original reason” why people in later times competed for being humane, Guo maintained, is that sage-king Yao had promoted the virtue enthusiastically (see Guo 1985: 861). And yet, Guo split the binome as a

 The term wudai does not appear in the Zhuangzi, though it is implied in the reference to the sage, holy man, and perfect man in the first chapter.

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unitary concept and differentiated yuan and gu. In contrast to the ultimate cause (yuan 原), as Guo conceived, there are “immediate causes” (gu 故), which may be knowable. The distinction is important in clarifying what Guo meant when he talked about causality: For things and events that are close at hand, their immediate causes may be known. Yet, if we try to trace the original reason to the end, then we shall find no immediate cause except that things and events are just the way they are. That being the case, we shall not even bother to look for their immediate causes. We should simply go along with it.

夫物事之近, 或知其故, 然尋其原以至乎極, 則無故而自爾也。自爾則無所稍問 其故也, 但當順之 (Guo 1985: 496).

Take the example of Yao, who was guilty of promoting humaneness to his subjects and when they emulated him, he became the immediate cause for the fallen state of their true natures. But Yao would also do great harm to posterity as his model of humaneness continued to be revered and emulated generation after generation.21 Thus, he became the original cause for the degeneration of people in later ages whereas their own rulers would be the immediate cause. Nevertheless, as previously shown, the ultimate (ji 極) is in effect the limit of an endless query after an equally endless succession of causes, which cannot really fathom the final cause of any particular thing or event. Thus, Yao could not be the final cause of people’s departure from their true natures as he himself could only be a product contingent on some pre-existing influences, and in this connection, it would be meaningless to identify him as the immediate cause of his subjects’ degeneration since he himself was not an independent, self-sufficient agent. Hence, Guo contended it was not worth trying to look for immediate causes. It appears that Guo’s differentiation of original cause and immediate cause was disingenuous since it does not actually matter in his understanding of the complex interconnections among the myriad things, their growths, as well as their impact on one another. It only serves to reinforce his argument that things are uncaused. Indeed, yuan and gu are only conceptual markers for indicating the perceived causal relation between things; they do not describe what actually happens between them. For this purpose, Guo Xiang has another promising set of concepts in progressive order: xiangyu 相與 (mutual partaking), xiangdai 相待 (mutual dependency), xiangwei 相為 (cooperation), and xiangyin 相因 (intergrowth). For the convenience of discussion, let us begin with a discussion of xiangdai. Xiangdai appears in only one statement in the Zhuangzi—“the sounds of transformation being dependent on one another is the same as their not being dependent on one another 化聲之相待, 若其不相待” (Guo 1985: 108). Similarly, Guo also used the term only twice and only in commenting on Zhuangzi’s statement. It is fair to say that Guo owed it to Zhuangzi for his conception of mutual dependency, although he applied it in a different way. Presumably, the sounds in the Zhuangzi allude back to the heavenly piping (tianlai 天籟) in the opening metaphor in the “Qiwulun 齊物論” chapter. The individual sound emitting from each of the crevices  Guo wrote: “When marks are left on the ground so that people can follow them, the traces cannot be covered. Having a conscious self to lord over things, one will not be able to merge with them 夫 畫地而使人循之, 其跡不可掩矣; 有其己而臨物, 與物不冥矣” (Guo 1985: 185).

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and cavities in the myriad trees is unique and its quality is not dependent on any other sound coming elsewhere in the forest. Yet when all the sounds are produced at once over a considerable stretch of time as the powerful wind growls, they resonate with one another and the effect of the reverberation is utterly unpredictable. In the collective reverberation, the perceived quality of each sound is transformed. Meanwhile, the resonance of the heavenly piping is made possible because each unique sound is interdependent on one another even as each cavity responds to the roaring wind in its distinctive way. Yet, Zhuangzi asserted that such real interdependency is effectively no interdependency. Immediately prior to the metaphor, Zhuangzi was talking about the impossibility of ascertaining the truth (zheng 正) in a debate due to its indeterminacy, so interdependency seems to refer to the absence of non-contingent truth. Earlier in the beginning of the chapter, Guo already interpreted the heavenly piping to mean the totality of all forms of animate beings, including the pipings of earth and man. Together they form what he called heaven— the totality of all things (Guo 1985: 50). Thus, Guo replaced Zhuangzi’s concept of heavenly piping with his new notion of heaven, and the former’s specific metaphoric significance was broadened to encompass all aspects of life. While Guo Xiang clearly understood the original context and intent of the Zhuangzi, he disregarded the allusion to heavenly piping and extrapolated the idea of mutual dependency pertaining to the conflicting sides of a debate to construct a philosophy of life that merges self and other together in order to maximize one’s inborn nature in its own way. He states: The transformation of sounds refers to the debate over this and that. In the interdependency of sound transformation, none of the sounds can serve as a norm for any other sound, thus it is as if they are not interdependent. Harmonize the transforming sounds with the boundaries of self-so [among them] and let them be transformed endlessly. This process being allowed to continue, the [boundary between the] realm of this and the realm of that will disappear spontaneously and the utmost of one’s true nature and destiny will be fathomed spontaneously as well.

是非之辯為化聲。夫化聲之相待, 俱不足以相正, 故若不相待也。和之以自然之 分, 任其無極之化, 尋斯以往, 則是非之境自泯, 而性命之致自窮也 (Guo 1985: 109).

Evidently, xiangdai is predicated on the absence of a universal and invariable norm for the myriad things being what they are. Norms are redefined from moment to moment; they are provisional because the myriad things are ontologically self-­ generated and the continuous state of each being is, in principle, contingent on those of the remainder of the myriad things. As such, nothing is immune to ceaseless change and impermanence cannot serve as a fixed standard. Although interdependency among things may involve causal relationships, for Guo Xiang, it only necessitates contingency, and vice versa. There are not even immediate causal links between things: Everything under heaven forms a self-other relationship, yet self and other each wants to work for itself; [their self-interests] are as different as east is to west. On the other hand, self and other are comparable to lips and teeth; lips and teeth never work for each other, yet when the lips are gone, the teeth will become chilled.

天下莫不相與為彼我, 而彼我皆欲自為, 斯東西之相反也。然彼我相與為唇齒, 唇齒者未嘗相為, 而唇亡則齒寒 (Guo 1985: 579).22 22

 See also Guo 1985: 348–349.

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Although the lips are not there to protect the teeth, the survival of the latter is contingent on the existence of the former. Similarly, when the lips no longer have the support of the teeth, they will sink in. Hence, lips and teeth form a mutually dependent relationship. One may say that the teeth are not chilled because the lips protect them, thus one attributes a causal connection between them. Guo Xiang objected and recognized this instead as “co-happening of its own accord, which is a propensity of necessity 自然相生, 必至之勢也” (Guo 1985: 348–349). He would say that the ascription is manmade rather than self-so. Indeed, he said that “man’s allotted lifespan is naturally determined by heaven and that the attempt to extend it is motivated by man’s desire. Yet, such a distinction is manmade; in reality, there is nothing that is not part of heaven, which is self-so 我生有涯, 天也; 心欲益之, 人也。然此人之所謂 耳, 物無非天也。天也者, 自然者也” (Guo 1985: 226). Heaven as a universal latticework of mutual dependency knows no causation. It is a natural condition that lips and teeth are placed together such that they are mutually dependent on each other for their well-being. It is only an artificial characterization to say that the teeth are there to protect the lips, which does not change the nature of their actual condition. Thus, it would seem that the absence of intentionality is essential for a mutually dependent relationship. It is called wuxin 無心 (no-mind) in Guo Xiang’s terminology. As Guo Xiang argued, justification presupposes a permanent norm but it does not exist even as things in the world of self-so exist without a purpose. Thus, when two things are mutually dependent on each other, we may as well say that they are not because neither can they justify or deny each other’s existence, nor can they benefit or compromise each other’s well-being on purpose. Clearly, mutual dependency is not causality. The choice of the lips-teeth analogy apparently is not random. Writ large, it becomes the entire kaleidoscopic ecology where human beings, born of their own accord, are predestined to play their interdependent roles, realize their true natures, and transform their moment-to-moment existences that is called life. Guo Xiang writes: For a man to live, although his physical form is only seven chi tall, his five viscera are always complete. Despite the limited size of his body, it takes heaven and earth to serve him. Thus, heaven and earth, the myriad things, and all other things [cannot subsist] even for a day without one another. As long as one thing is lacking, whatever exists will have no way to subsist; as long as one coherence fails to complete itself, his allotted lifespan will lack the expediency to run its full course.

人之生也, 形雖七尺而五常必具, 故雖區區之身, 乃舉天地以奉之。故天地萬物, 凡所有者, 不可一日而相無也。一物不具, 則生者無由得生; 一理不至, 則天年無 緣得終 (Guo 1985: 225).

This macrocosmic view of life speaks volumes about Guo Xiang’s philosophy of life. Life is essentially an interdependent and interactive ecology where each of the myriad things depends on the continuous support of the rest of its fellow members for its survival. Heaven-and-earth is certainly not anthropocentric, so non-human members do not exist for the benefits of human beings. Yet even though the myriad things are autogenetic, it is not a matter of spontaneity for them to experience life as such. To do so, Guo Xiang said, one has to “embody heaven and earth and merge mysteriously with change and transformation 體天地, 冥變化者” (Guo 1985: 265).

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For example, the Zhuangzi says that “animals can be animals because only animals can abide by heaven 唯蟲能蟲, 唯蟲能天” (Guo 1985: 813). Guo Xiang interpreted this to mean that “animals are able to [embody] heaven when they return to [their nature] and abide by it 能還守蟲, 即是能天” (Guo 1985: 813). The process of returning to and “abiding” by one’s true nature is critical. Guo did not explain how animals could succeed but he outlined the mechanism of the cosmic ecology in an analogy of the human body: Although the hands and feet have different functions and the five viscera have separate capabilities, they never partake of one another’s [activities], yet the one hundred parts [in the body] harmonize simultaneously. This is called partaking in non-partaking. Inner [self] and outer [circumstances] are equally accomplished without cooperation; this is called cooperating in non-cooperating.

雖手足異任, 五藏殊官, 未嘗相與而百節同和, 斯相與於無相與也; 未嘗相為而表 裏俱濟, 斯相為於無相為也 (Guo 1985: 265).

The mechanism operates with xiangyu 相與 (mutual partaking) and xiangwei 相為 (cooperation). The former is essentially the same as xiangdai except that it does not connote as the latter does that things are not complete by themselves; their completeness depends on the support of other things. In this connection, xiangyu takes one step further to indicate that things do need to actively contribute to sustain the kaleidoscopic ecology that undergoes ceaseless transformations made possible only by their multitudinous contributions. In other words, as much as the ecology is spontaneous, non-striving, and purposeless, it is not stagnant and free of activities even though interdependent activities among the myriad things are not consciously driven by a collective goal. In fact, it is rooted in each of its members engaging in a state of no-mind as animals do. For human beings situated in the midst of the myriad things, however, returning to and abiding by one’s true nature clearly requires cultivation because although their true nature is essentially identical with all other animate beings, their psychophysical constitution, their self-so, is different. The analogy of human organism can only serve as a model for inner operation within the human mind, which indeed does not require or even involve cognition. However, the engagement of multitudes in the real world goes beyond inner operation. It is necessary to cultivate no-mindness. This is indeed the key to partaking in non-partaking, to “embody heaven,” like animals, “by returning to our true nature and abide by it.” Compared to xiangyu, xiangdai, and xiangwei, which come from the Zhuangzi, xiangyin (intergrowth), a new concept created by Guo Xiang, appears to be more proactive. If the flattened heaven is merely a self-generative but purposeless ecology, it seems pointless to speak of human involvement in its ceaseless evolution. Selfcultivation would be trivial or perhaps only pre-emptive in steering the ecology away from a global disaster that will destroy it for good. Although Guo Xiang seldom talked about the collective well-being of heaven, his peculiar diction of xiangyin indicates that he certainly did not disregard it as unimportant or irrelevant. According to the Han dynasty lexicon Explanations of Simple Graphs and Analyses of Composite Graphs, (Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字) yin 因 is a composite graph which consists of the two semantic constituents of wei 囗 (circumscribed area) and da 大 (big), and means “high” or “to increase the height” (jiu 就).23 The idea of yin, then, 23

 Duan 2000: 278.

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connotes the sense of development and growth, and yin itself would later refer to the foundation or condition requisite for development and growth, or the resources that help bring something to completion.24 In this particular sense, yin takes on the meaning of “cause” and “reason.” Thus, xiangyin as Guo Xiang conceptualized it, refers to the process of co-developing in the sense that the myriad things in their state of mutual dependency provide support to one another, which will foster their intergrowth. Given the positive denotation of yin, we have good reason to believe that Guo would like to see heaven in good form and condition in spite of its perpetual change and transformation. Interestingly, the constituent graph wei pictographically depicts the flattened heaven in Guo Xiang’s cosmology; intergrowth notwithstanding, it remains two dimensional as the link to a transcendental heaven was cut asunder. As his idea of intergrowth was innovative, Guo apparently felt compelled to defend it against the idea of dependency. In a long commentary on the relationship between the penumbra and the shadow, he explained: Some people in our time say that the penumbra is dependent on the shadow and the shadow is dependent on the physical form. But I would like to ask if the Creator is something or nothing. If he is nothing, how can he create things? If he is something, then he is finite, and thus not capable of creating the myriad physical forms himself. Hence, only when we understand that the myriad physical forms become things themselves can we talk about creation. Thus, in the realm of things, there has never been a thing that did not transform itself in mysterious darkness, even the penumbra is no exception. Therefore, the Creator is no master, and things create themselves. And when things create themselves, they are not dependent on anything in the process of creation. This is called the norm of heaven and earth. Thus, self and other mutually grow with each other, and form and shadow come into existence together. Although they merge into one mysteriously, it is not dependence. When we understand this [form-shadow] coherence, we shall have each of the myriad things return to its source within, without depending on anything without, denying nothing from without and privileging nothing from within, they are teased into existence without knowing how or why, fulfilling themselves without knowing how or why. Now even with the penumbra’s association with the shadow we can say it is simultaneous co-existence rather than dependence, then although the myriad things come together to form heaven collectively, nevertheless, each of them clearly reveals itself in its own uniqueness. Thus, the penumbra is not controlled by the shadow, nor is the shadow under the charge of the physical form, nor is the physical form transformed by Nothing. Whether transforming or not transforming, being so or not being so, tracking others or following one’s own self, none are not being the way they are, how can I know how or why this is so? Therefore, let them be so without assisting, then

 Guo Xiang certainly used the term in this sense. For instance, he said: “Jia (borrowed support) means reliance (yin). Now life and death as well as accumulation and dispersion transform without any particular direction; they are all alien things. There is not an alien thing that is not relied upon. Thus, although what is relied upon is alien, everything merges together into one unified body 假, 因也。今死生聚散, 變化無方, 皆異物也。無異而不假, 故所假雖異而共成一體也” (Guo 1985: 265). Brook Ziporyn takes yin to mean “to follow” and translates xiangyin as “follow one another.” Philologically, this is not tenable but his interpretation of lone-transformation is insightful and agrees with much of my analysis. See Ziporyn 2003: 99–123. Vincent Shen interprets xiangyin to mean “mutual accommodation.” He argues that in Guo Xiang’s theory of lone-transformation, an autonomous individual has not cut himself off from others because “each individual’s act for his/her interest will benefit other individuals in a kind of non-teleological mutual accommodation.” Again, while Shen’s interpretation is basically sound, his translation of xiangyin, philologically speaking, is not. In fact, he actually confuses xiangyin with xiangying 相應, even though it may be just an oversight. See Shen 2013: 171–188, especially 185. 24

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root and branch, inner and outer, will flourish equally without obstruction, leaving no trace [of their intergrowth]. But if we hold the immediate causes accountable and thereby forget about their being so of their own accord, seeking their source from without and abandon their master within, we shall give rise to preferences. Although we may wish to treat things equally, how can we attain equality with preferences in our hearts?

世或謂罔兩待景, 景待形, 形待造物者。請問:夫造物者, 有耶無耶? 無也? 則胡能 造物哉? 有也? 則不足以物眾形。故明眾形之自物而後始可與言造物耳。是以 涉有物之域, 雖復罔兩, 未有不獨化於玄冥者也。故造物者無主, 而物各自造, 物 各自造而無所待焉, 此天地之正也。故彼我相因, 形景俱生, 雖復玄合, 而非待 也。明斯理也, 將使萬物各反所宗於體中而不待乎外, 外無所謝而內無所矜, 是 以誘然皆生而不知所以生, 同焉皆得而不知所以得也。今罔兩之因景, 猶云俱生 而非待也, 則萬物雖聚而共成乎天, 而皆歷然莫不獨見矣。故罔兩非景之所制, 而景非形之所使, 形非無之所化也, 則化與不化, 然與不然, 從人之與由己, 莫不自 爾, 吾安識其所以哉! 故任而不助, 則本末內外, 暢然俱得, 泯然無跡。若乃責此 近因而忘其自爾, 宗物於外, 喪主於內, 而愛尚生矣。雖欲推而齊之, 然其所尚已 存乎胸中, 何夷之得有哉 (Guo 1985: 111–112).

It is evident that this commentary aimed to refute the belief in dependence as it runs counter to Guo’s theory of autogenesis because dependence implies causation. While the idea of mutual dependency already negates dependence as the lips-teeth analogy demonstrates, Guo here wants to propose his new idea of intergrowth with the penumbra-shadow-form analogy. The critical difference between the two analogies is that the co-existence of lips and teeth is stationary and does not give birth to anything whereas the relationship between physical form and shadow is motile and, depending on where they happen to be, may give rise to the penumbra. Motility thus indicates the potential to change with the circumstances and accommodates new elements in the process of mutual interaction, thus intergrowth is inevitable. Conceptually, genesis is not the same as growth and transformation, and while the former, as Guo argued, can well be self-generated, it is not obvious that the latter can be independent of external support. Hence, in his commentary, Guo contended that the norm of genesis—the rightness of heaven and earth—was independent self-­ generation. It is no use tracing the immediate cause because it will lead to an infinite regress as the relationships between penumbra, shadow, and physical form demonstrates. The existence of the triplet is both simultaneous and coterminous, which suggests that the boundary between them is not as clear-cut as is usually supposed. As mentioned earlier, immediate causes are misleading and causation is deceitful. Guo neither recognized nor denied such boundary but preferred to call the triplet’s togetherness and wholeness “mysterious union” (xuanhe 玄合). As he put it, “mysterious darkness is a term that signifies non-being but it is not nothingness 玄冥者, 所以名無而非無也” (Guo 1985: 257). Hence, the boundary between penumbra, shadow, and physical form is there yet not there.25  In early Chinese texts, xuanming originally referred to a deity of one kind or another but Zhuangzi began to use it in an infinite regress to show that the source of the Way is not independent of the Way. See Guo 1985: 256. It is noteworthy that xuan literally means “dark and distant” and “pitchblack with a touch of red.” Apparently, what makes xuan mysterious and intriguing is the little touch of red, which seems to promise something deep underneath or far beyond the forbidding facade of total darkness. In the case of tracking down the original cause or seed of change, the shade of red tempts the stubborn-minded to pursue the path of infinite regress.

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In a self-generated universe, the diachronic search for the ultimate source or prime mover of things proves to be futile, and in Guo’s heaven of ceaseless change, every moment is a new beginning. How a new beginning emerges here and now becomes a more significant question. In this connection, Guo introduced the idea of xiangyin. Only when development and growth are possible can there be change and a new beginning. Since the myriad things join in a heavenly confluence, there are no insulated entities and theoretically, every entity can partake of the development of all other entities. Guo thus states, “self and all under heaven each completes itself in intergrowth 己與天下, 相因而成者也” (Guo 1985: 394). However, in reality, it is impractical and impossible to find out all the mutual partnerships that contribute to any particular entity’s development and growth, let alone know them well. The identification may be diachronic as well as synchronic since an entity’s pre-born state of being comes from the interactions of mutual partners in an earlier time. Moreover, just as Guo Xiang warned against the diachronic search because entities are ultimately uncaused, he also advised the myriad things to return to their “ancestor” (zong 宗, source) within, without consciously waiting for (dai 待, dependence) contributions from without in spite of his theory of intergrowth. Thus, synchronic understanding of current mutual partnerships is at least discouraged as well. In this sense, lone-transformation is quite literally transforming by oneself, with the emphasis on self-reliance and self-determination. This, of course, is not to deny the convergence of diverse resources that aids the process of lone-transformation, but Guo Xiang was not so much interested in elaborating on the complexity of intergrowth as in the ultimacy of lone-transformation. He says: The efficacy of intergrowth is best manifested in perfect lone-transformation. What man relies on is heaven and what heaven engenders is lone-transformation. People all take heaven as their father, so they dare not dislike the change of day and night as well as the regulation of summer and winter; they follow heaven and live peacefully with these changes. How much more so for lone-transformation projecting into the realm of mysterious darkness such that one will not let it take its own course? Letting it take its own course, [one should follow] the transformation of life into death as if one would obey the command of fate.

夫相因之功, 莫若獨化之至也。故人之所因者, 天也; 天之所生者, 獨化也。人皆 以天為父, 故晝夜之變, 寒暑之節, 猶不敢惡, 隨天安之。況乎卓爾獨化, 至於玄冥 之境, 又安得而不任之哉!既任之, 則死生變化, 惟命之從也 (Guo 1985: 241).

Mysterious darkness may be descriptive as well as psychological.26 Descriptively, it depicts the state of interfusion where the totality of all things converges seamlessly and continuously without self-knowing and, as such, it is also impenetrable to knowledge. Since the potential knower himself is also a member of the totality and partakes of the interfusion without knowing, he is not able to penetrate its darkness. The selfcultivation that empowers him to experience and embody the mysterious interfusion would produce a meaningful effect in his psychological condition which is unique in the totality of things. In this sense, lone-transformation is singular and solitary.  For more on how this plays out in the thought of Ge Hong, see Gil Raz’s chapter in this Companion.

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If we want to know the consequence of intergrowth amongst all things under heaven, look no further than ourselves in the process of lone-transformation. For Guo, heaven is nothing but the totality of all things. When we rely on heaven to complete our lone-transformation, it literally means that everything that we know or do not know could contribute to our success. Changes in nature certainly impact our growth whether or not we are cognizant of them. Outside the realm of nature, there are many beyond our comprehension as they are not as predictable as nature. Regardless, if we are a consummate practitioner of Dao, Guo Xiang says, we shall not initiate but simply rely on the resources that happen to be available to us (dazhe yin er buzuo 達者引而不作). More specifically, he goes on to explain that: “The consummate practitioner relies on whatever he does here and now. Surely it is not because he relies on it knowing that it is good to do so? Not knowing how and why he should rely on it he is only relying on himself, this is called Dao 夫達者之因是, 豈知因為善而因之哉? 不知所以因而自因耳, 故謂之道也” (Guo 1985: 73).27 This idea of self-reliance characterizes the loneness in transformation. Yinshi is an important concept in the Zhuangzi; shi 是 (this, thus) refers to whatever is moment by moment in any particular situation, thus yinshi 因是 means to rely on whatever is here and now and embrace it as it is. In actuality, it is the momentary loneness in an evolving entity. Every moment of loneness is unique because it is the product of the shifting confluences of evolving mutual partnerships. Insofar as shi is the point of convergences of infinite mutual partnerships, it is the center of the cosmos. In fact, given their equality, every entity is the center of the cosmos in the same sense. Lone-transformation is self-merging into the moment-by-moment confluence of the shaping powers of mutual partnerships in the cosmic web of beings that contributes to the intergrowth of all beings involved. Every moment of the co-evolution is the solitary and singular expression of the individual entity. True reliance cannot be deliberate because genuine self-so is neither goal-­ oriented nor cognition-driven. Furthermore, full knowledge of all the contributing elements is impossible and partial knowledge of immediate causes offers inadequate guidance. Thus, the consummate practitioner of Dao simply relies on whatever resources he may find in the circumstance he happens to encounter and acts on his own, and Dao will be realized. As Guo puts it, “that which is followed by things in their course of action is thus given a makeshift name called Dao 物所由而行, 故 假名之曰道” (Guo 1985: 919). Ultimately, Dao is the practitioner’s self-so.

5  Lone-Transformation in Practice No doubt Guo Xiang was truly impressed with Zhuangzi’s philosophy and he summarized it succinctly in the Preface to his commentary on the Zhuangzi. ­ He commended Zhuangzi for his knowledge and exposition of the fundament

 Guo also said: “When taking a course of action, surely it is not because it is worth taking. Rather, it is the person himself manifesting the action, thus there is no way it can be stopped 夫為者, 豈以 足為故為哉? 自體此為, 故不可得而止也” (Guo 1985: 401).

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(zhiben 知本). As Guo explained, the fundament is the root of all evolving existences, their interrelationships, interactions, mutual influences on one another, and above all, the overall purpose of it all. This cosmic process of evolution is called transformation, of which each being partakes. In spite of its enormity and complexity, this co-­evolution has an inherent order (xu 序) because each being has its unique nature yet unifies (tong 統) with everything else. In this cosmic unity, the true nature of none is compromised as each being remains a center in the shifting web, true to its self-so at any moment of here-and-now. Nevertheless, in the cosmic web of beings, human beings as one of multitudinous centers play the most critical role because they are most capable of messing up the order of the existences of the myriad things by jolting the Yin and Yang of heaven and earth (i.e., nature).28 Precisely because of this extraordinary capability, the conduct of human beings determines the welfare of the myriad things including themselves and their cosmic ecology on the one hand and creates a purpose for their own existence on the other. Thus, self-cultivation and its social and political repercussions are meaningful. This is also precisely one of the key areas where Guo Xiang disagreed with Zhuangzi. Guo Xiang complained that Zhuangzi was not able to implement his profound philosophy because it was impractical (sui gao buxing 雖高不行) (Guo 1985: 3). Specifically, “for someone (i.e., the sage) who embodies transformation and evolves ceaselessly in a mysterious union with things, he would not be satisfied with speaking aimlessly beyond the empirical world on how he would encounter imaginary scenarios as a solitary entity 故與化為體, 流萬代而冥物, 豈曾設對獨遘而遊談 乎方外哉” (Guo 1985: 3). Compared to the sage who remained in stillness and would respond to the occasion only when it called for his assistance, Zhuangzi was essentially an armchair philosopher; he refused to engage in the real world.29 Thus, every time Zhuangzi criticized Confucius and his like-minded fellows, Guo Xiang would come to their rescue by transforming Zhuangzi’s genuine accusations into allegories that actually promote their practical teachings to engage the social and political world.30 It would be fair, then, to examine Guo’s own philosophy by the same criterion. Indeed, his idea of lone-transformation was meant to be the guiding principle of human conduct and the ultimate goal of self-cultivation, and it is precisely what Zhuangzi failed to live up to in Guo’s accusation. Guo carped that although Zhuangzi understood the integrative philosophy of inner sagacity and outer regality (neisheng waiwang zhi dao 內聖外王之道), he was not able to embody it with his “divine vessel” (i.e., his true nature) by transforming himself in his loneness in the realm of mysterious darkness (Guo 1985: 3). Zhuangzi was impractical because he did not embrace the empirical world (fangnei 方內) of

 Guo writes: “人在天地之中, 最能以靈知喜怒擾亂群生而振蕩陰陽也” (Guo 1985: 366). Although this is actually Guo Xiang’s articulation, it is essentially faithful to Zhuangzi’s view, which was opposed to anthropocentric dominance on the myriad things. 29  See Guo 1985: 3. 30  Guo’s glorification of the Confucian sage-king Yao is notorious for distorting Zhuangzi’s depreciation of him. He even specified that the failure to appreciate Yao as a sage of non-action in the court explained why Zhuangzi’s philosophy was abandoned by the powers that be. See, for instance, Guo 1985: 24. 28

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human affairs and politics. Thus, lone-transformation presumably was meant to be pragmatic and superseded Zhuangzi’s lop-sided philosophy of inner sagacity. As a principle of action, it remains to be seen how lone-transformation might be practiced in the tumultuous society and cut-throat world of court politics which Guo Xiang lived and involved himself. Lone-transformation, it would seem, became the relentless pursuit of and progress toward his political success, which might be his life-goal after all. By contrast, Zhuangzi opted out of politics in his time.31 This, of course, is a matter of personal choice but the decision has profound implications on the purpose of life. In principle, personal choice would be respected in the spirit of lone-transformation, which emphasizes one’s self-determination, self-reliance, and the uncompromising preservation of one’s true nature. Regardless of the practicality of Zhuangzi’s philosophy, however, Guo Xiang apparently contradicted himself as he evaluated it in terms of his privileged principle of lone-transformation and failed to respect Zhuangzi for his transformation in his own loneness. Indeed, Guo said: When things’ natures are allowed to flourish on their own, this is called the norm of norms … To use one norm to normalize the ten thousand [other norms], the latter will be made abnormal. Thus, the perfect norm is that which is not used to normalize all [other norms] under heaven such that they will attain their own norms, and that is all.

物各任其性, 乃正正也 ⋯⋯ 然以一正萬, 則萬不正矣。故至正者不以己正天下, 使天下各得其正而已 (Guo 1985: 316–317).

One may ask if lone-transformation is not merely one of the norms under heaven. Furthermore, according to Guo, Zhuangzi simply “allowed his own nature to flourish and his destiny to run its course, so that he could influence both without burdening himself. As a result, self and other equally were self-fulfilled, and he had really done some good 故任其性命, 乃能及人, 及人而不累於己, 彼我同於自得, 斯可 謂善也” (Guo 1985: 328). Thus, Guo Xiang failed to put lone-transformation into good practice in his assessment of Zhuangzi. Lone-transformation involves an overwhelmingly intricate web of the myriad things interdependent on one another in a ceaseless process of intergrowth. In order to navigate one’s way around, knowledge is necessary if lone-transformation is not equivalent to aimless drifting. Some sort of cognitive compass is needed. Given the nature of the unimaginable complexity of the ecology of the myriad things, a full knowledge of it is impossible. In fact, Guo Xiang advised against any attempt to seek infinite knowledge. He said: “The coherences of things are infinite, thus one’s exposition of them must be equally infinite, only then can one be commensurate with the coherences of things 物理無窮, 故其言無窮, 然後與物同理” (Guo 1985: 918). In reality, no one can fit the bill. Still, there is another reason that we cannot comprehend the cosmic ecology—our natures are limited (Guo 1985: 116). Earlier Guo wrote: “Our natures have a fixed allotment; thus intelligent people will abide by what they know while foolish people will cling to their foolishness until their deaths. How are they able to change their natures as they live on? 性各有分, 故知  For a study of Zhuangzi’s view on politics, see Lo 2019: 225–252.

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者守知以待終, 而愚者抱愚以至死, 豈有能中易其性者也” (Guo 1985: 59). To the extent that we each have our unique natural talents or the lack thereof, Guo was right; however, the distinction between intelligence and foolishness is arbitrary in itself and does not mean we should not acquire knowledge at all. Although human beings are one of the members in the heavenly ecology, Guo Xiang singled them out into a category called “man” (ren 人) in the manner of the long-established tradition of Chinese thought, in contradistinction with heaven (tian 天) sans human beings. As such, heaven and man constitute an inner-outer dichotomy. To man, knowledge then is divided into inner knowledge about his true nature and outer knowledge about things in the empirical world. In principle, Guo Xiang privileged the former over the latter. He said, for instance, “whatever one does not know lies beyond one’s nature and allotment, thus one should stay within the range of one’s [inner] knowledge and achieve perfection 所不知者, 皆性分之外也。故 止於所知之內而至也” (Guo 1985: 88). However, outer knowledge is not entirely dispensable, and here is a catch. What kind of outer knowledge and how much of it is necessary in the practice of lone-transformation? More fundamentally, how can we know what kind of knowledge is needed in the first place? Guo Xiang never addressed these basic but critical questions, but his view regarding horse training is instructive: Mounting the true knowledge [of the horses] and riding their self-so-ness, one can arrive at the destination on a ten-thousand-mile journey without compromising the nature of the horses.

御其真知, 乘其自然, 則萬里之路可致, 而群馬之性不失 (Guo 1985: 339).

Not only did he think that horses should be tamed and trained, he advised how to ride them as well. As far as horse riding is concerned, knowledge about the nature of horses, technical skills of horse training, and equestrian abilities are indispensable. Besides, a good knowledge of the differing topographies and changing climates over the long journey will be necessary. All these, of course, are outer knowledge that belongs to heaven rather than man. Still, the problem is even more complicated when the rider is taken into consideration. Why would he want to go on this arduous journey in the first place? Is the desire to achieve this goal part of his true nature or a dangerous temptation to alienate himself from it? Inner knowledge of his true nature is necessary. The goal of self-cultivation is to unify inner knowledge and outer knowledge and fuse inner and outer into a singular presence of self­so, or put differently, the unity of heaven and man. Self-so, after all, is neither self-evident nor self-explanatory. More critically, how exactly the self-so of man manifests itself is far from clear either. However, all these questions may be dismissed as unnatural interferences. One should, according to Guo, “follow one’s nature and go straightforward, this is self-so. If one harms one’s nature in so doing, one can correct [one’s mistake]. This is also called self-so 夫率性直往者, 自然也; 往而傷性, 性傷而能改者, 亦自然也” (Guo 1985: 281). This is because any adjustment is merely a matter “normalizing the allotment determined by one’s nature and inner necessity 各正性命之分” (Guo 1985: 291) and, in the end, one will “repose in quietude with an air of easy unconcern 漠然靜於性而止” (Guo 1985: 294).

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Self-so is self-correcting and one’s inborn nature is not fully determined at birth. Hence, it seems that we need not know what exactly self-so is for man or for any other members of heaven, including horses. Thus, while knowledge is necessary, it is not crucial, theoretically, to know what sort and how much is needed for any given purpose, because it can be acquired and adjusted in the process of co-evolution. Nevertheless, how is new knowledge, or any knowledge for that matter, acquired? This is indeed a more fundamental question. To complicate the problem further, since Guo Xiang believed that people are endowed with different levels of intelligence such that the “foolish” sort will never be able to acquire certain kinds of knowledge, consequently, their true nature may not be able to self-correct at least in some circumstances. In response, Guo advises us to: Let things develop themselves according to their natures, this is called impartiality. To desire to add to their own development, this is called preferences. Accommodating preferences is indeed inadequate to engender development; only yielding to impartiality can attain total development.

任性自生, 公也; 心欲益之, 私也; 容私果不足以生生, 而順公乃全也 (Guo 1985: 295).

Hence, “foolish” people should let their nature express itself and refrain from promoting its development for self-interests as if their own nature is alien to them. In other words, the flourishing of one’s nature should not be ego-driven. Yet, as much as one aims at impartiality, one may spontaneously feel the need now and then to adjust oneself on the long life-journey without compromising one’s true nature, it remains a question as to how one may actually adapt along the way. This requires knowledge. If one tries to seek said knowledge, would doing so compromise one’s true nature? Even intelligent people are not all-knowing and will also be caught in this dilemma. Worse still, Guo warned us, “if one knows what one does not know, one has knowledge already. Having knowledge, one is not able to allow the multitudinous talents to fit into their right places 若自知其所不知, 即為有知。有知則不 能任群才之自當” (Guo 1985: 92). On one’s life-journey, or in the workplace, when one is in charge, it is important to work in synergy with all concerned parties that contribute to the ultimate completion and success. Self-correcting and self-­ adjusting presupposes at least a subtle awareness of a need to act differently, but that presumably already constitutes self-defeating knowing. The journey and project seem doomed before they even get started. Clearly, being self-so is not a simple matter and the problem seems to lie in the tension between true nature and knowledge. Along one’s life-journey every encounter is, in reality, a confluence of all contributing elements, and its evolutionary pathways and products are both called coherence (li 理). They have an inherent order in spite of their seeming randomness. As long as one follows one’s true nature, one will complete the missing part of the coherence, which emerges in every stage of one’s odyssey of co-evolution and demands one’s compliance and conformity for its perfection. In merging oneself in each coherence, one will make one’s true nature complete and perfect at once. Life is thus self-fulfilled. As Guo Xiang summed it up:

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[With one’s true nature] being endowed as a matter of self-so, its coherence is self-­sufficient. Thus, although one may engage in deep thought to circumvent disasters, or may be explicitly warned to avoid misfortune, yet events never occur by accident; they are all convergences of [elements in] heaven and earth and destinations of the perfect coherence. If one must ponder over it, it is actually not the self pondering; if one does not want to ponder it, it is not the self not pondering either. One may avoid disaster by pondering it [in advance], or one may do so without pondering it, or one may not avoid it by not pondering it. None of these are about [what] the self [does or does not do], so why bother at all? Just let one’s nature be, and it will take one to one’s destination.

既稟之自然, 其理已足。則雖沈思以免難, 或明戒以避禍, 物無妄然, 皆天地之會, 至理所趣。必自思之, 非我思也; 必自不思, 非我不思也。或思而免之, 或思而不 免, 或不思而免之, 或不思而不免。凡此皆非我也, 又奚為哉? 任之而自至也 (Guo 1985: 219).

If it is not even the self which tries to figure out a better way to move straightforward in the process of co-evolution, any worry about knowledge would be meaningless. Regardless of the outcome, as long as one’s true nature is preserved, self-correction and self-adaptation will take place spontaneously, and coherence will be complete and perfect. The self lacks agency because subjectivity dissolves in the absence of causality. This is, in fact, what Guo Xiang called no-mindness. He observed that “if one goes forward with a [conscious] mind, one will not be able to go anywhere. If one responds with no-mindness, resonance will come of its own accord, and one will be able to go anywhere 以有心而往, 無往而可; 無心而應, 其應自來, 則無往 而不可也” (Guo 1985: 137). Indeed, the ability to self-correct and self-adapt vis-àvis unpredictable circumstances and repose oneself therein is none other than what Guo Xiang called “free and easy” (xiaoyao 逍遙). There is no difference at all between the gigantic Peng bird and the little quail. After all, the sage is merely any entity that attains its nature (Guo 1985: 22).

6  Conclusion The notion of multitude or crowd (qun 群) is not philosophically significant at all in the Zhuangzi and it appears only once in the Inner Chapters and fourteen times in the rest of the work. By contrast, it plays a prominent role in Guo Xiang’s philosophy with its fifty-eight occurrences. Furthermore, the existence of the multitude is far more often referred to as entities (wu 物). The multitude is invariably pitted against the singular presence called loneness (du 獨). Metaphysically and empirically, the totality of all things is collectively identified as multitude. The philosophical import of lone-transformation lies in the negotiation of the tension and synergy between multitude and loneness. Perfect lone-transformation realizes itself in the intergrowth among the myriad things including the lone practitioner who merges seamlessly and wanders effortlessly therein. In real life, and specifically in the treacherous arena of a dangerous age called political world, the multitude or crowd is particularly fearsome and formidable. Many renowned scholars, thinkers, and officials were killed ruthlessly for their unconventional conduct, anti-­establishment

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defiance, personal integrity, and political allegiance. Pei Wei 裴頠 (267–300 CE), for example, who preceded Guo Xiang in proposing the metaphysics of autogenesis and condemning the philosophy of Non-Being, was also an outspoken critic of social and political ills. He was relentlessly committed to rigorous reforms in the central government and sacrificed his life for it at a young age. In a sense, all these tragedies resulted from poor negotiations with the multitude due to inadequate selfcultivation. This may explain Guo Xiang’s peculiar awareness of “domain” and his insistent emphasis on practical self-cultivation. He declined all invitations to serve in the local government and finally managed to work for Prince Donghai possibly for two decades until his patron died. Evidently, the Prince’s court was the domain he opted for and craved. He was acutely aware of gaining political advantage to maximize his chances of success and personal survival. In chapter 20 (Shanmu 山木) of the Zhuangzi, we are told that Zhuangzi was chased down by the park-keeper when he was trying to shoot a wild bird. After he escaped home and reflected over the incident, Zhuangzi came to realize that he “had forgotten his body while watching over the physical form [of the bird] 吾守形而忘 身.” Guo Xiang read the text differently: “Our bodies are situated in the world of men and our time has peace and danger. If we carry our harmless physical forms in our time around without gauging what is expedient, we will be guarding our physical forms but forgetting about our bodies 夫身在人間, 世有夷險, 若推夷易之形於 此世而不度此世之所宜, 斯守形而忘身者也” (Guo 1985: 698). To be sure, xing and shen are synonymous in general but, strictly speaking, they are not the same. First, xing may not be animate but shen is always alive. Moreover, unlike xing, shen is corporeal, thus it renders its owner capable of performative cultivation. As such, it is the performative self of a person.32 In fact, several lines after the Zhuangzi quotation above, the text virtually repeats Zhuangzi’s statement but adds the possessive pronoun wu 吾 (my) to modify shen and equates shen with zhen 真 (true self).33 The critical point here is that succumbing to the temptations of the external world and being preoccupied with worldly gains would risk losing one’s true self. In the story it was Zhuangzi’s performative self that got him into trouble. While the original text clearly differentiates the ownerships of xing (physical form) and shen (body), Guo Xiang ascribed them to the same person. He construed xing and shen to mean a person’s exterior aspect and his entire body respectively. For Guo, it is of utmost importance to maneuver one’s persona in the midst of the multitude in order to protect one’s body. He explicitly confessed, “when interacting with people in our time, between going along and going against, we can ill afford not to be cautious 故當世 接物, 逆順之際, 不可不慎也” (Guo 1985: 169). It seems clear that personal survival loomed large in his philosophy. Perfect lone-transformation is made possible by the interdependent contributions from a limitless web of resources. In fact, lone-transformation is no different from

 For a detailed discussion of the idea of self in the Analects, see Lo 2003: 249–268. As our discussion shows, the Confucian idea of self, in fact, had lasting influence on Daoism. 33  He writes: “今吾遊於雕陵而忘吾身, 異鵲感吾顙, 遊於栗林而忘真.” Guo 1985: 698. 32

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the intergrowth of the myriad things in mutual interactions; they are just two different ways of explaining the same experience. It is no coincidence that virtually all the elaborations of lone-transformation in Guo’s commentary focus on how the myriad things should be relied on and utilized, but not vice versa. Hence, he spoke about the yield of inter-reliance (xiangyin zhi gong 相因之功), instead of the effect of lone-­ transformation on the myriad things. In realistic terms, intergrowth is essentially the most favorable outcome of one’s negotiations with all possible contacts without compromising one’s integrity and sacrificing one’s life. As a practitioner, Guo Xiang observed, “everybody singles out themselves to be different but I, alone, roam in the multitude. This is called going alone and coming alone. I alone own this loneness, thus this may be called solitary ownership 人皆自異而己獨群遊, 斯乃獨 往獨來者也。獨有斯獨, 可謂獨有矣” (Guo 1985: 395). How can one not single out oneself? Guo specified, “he tallies with [the virtue of] the constant mean (zhongyong 中庸) who lets coherence develop its inner necessity. He exemplifies [the art of] interacting with people 任理之必然者, 中庸之符全矣, 斯接物之至者 也” (Guo 1985: 163). In the Zhuangzi, the binome zhongyong does not appear at all, although zhong 中 (inside; middle) and yong 庸 (constancy; mediocrity) are used as philosophical concepts. Guo Xiang used the binome twice without philosophical significance and it simply means the ordinary, middle path that avoids the extremes— a reliable if mundane way to remain elusive in the crowd to take advantage of it. In light of his criticism of Zhuangzi, Guo Xiang seemed to believe that he had superseded his predecessor with his theory of lone-transformation, which he implied he had put into practice himself. However, history had delivered a different verdict. As late as the sixth century, Yan Zhitui 顏之推 (ca. 531–597 CE) still warned his family and clan members that while Zhuangzi preserved and nourished his true nature and refused to burden himself with extraneous things, Guo Xiang rocked the court with his autocratic powers, not knowing how to put himself last and banish his ego (Wang 2002: 187). It would not be fair, however, to say that Guo claimed to have exemplified lone-transformation in practice.

Bibliography Chen, Li 陳立. 1994. Evidential Explanations of Comprehensive [Meanings as Discussed in] White Tiger Hall 白虎通疏證. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Duan, Yucai 段玉裁. 2000. Commentary on the Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字注. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Fan, Ye 范曄. 1971. History of the Later-Han Dynasty 後漢書. Hong Kong: Zhonghua Shuju. Fang, Xuanling 房玄齡. 1974. History of the Jin Dynasty 晉書. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1985. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Ivanhoe, Philip J. 2007. “Heaven as a Source for Ethical Warrant in Early Confucianism.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy, 6.3: 211–220. Kang, Zhongqian 康中乾. 2005. “A Verdict on the Controversy over the Authorship of the Commentary on the Zhuangzi by Xiang (Xiu) or Guo (Xiang) 對向、郭莊子注疑案的一種判 定.” Humanities 人文雜誌, 5: 35–38.

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Lau, D.C., trans. 1979. The Analects. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Liu, Pansui 劉盼遂. 1958. Collected Explanations on Lunheng 論衡集解. Taibei: Shijie Shuju. Lo, Yuet Keung. 2003. “Finding the Self in the Analects: A Philological Approach.” In Kim-Chong Chong, Sor-Hoon Tan, and C.L. Ten, eds., The Moral Circle and the Self, 249–268. La Salle: Open Court. Lo, Yuet Keung. 2015. “The Seven Worthies of the Bamboo Groves.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 425–448. Dordrecht: Springer. Lo, Yuet Keung. 2019. “It’s A Jungle Out There: Zhuangzi and the Rhetoric of Political Persuasion.” In Yanmin An and Brian Bruya, eds., New Life for Old Ideas: Festschrift in Honor of Professor Donald J.  Munro, 225–252. Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collection of Wang Bi’s Works: Critical Edition with Annotations 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Shen, Vincent. 2013. “From Interpretation to Construction: Guo Xiang’s Ontological Individualism.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 40.S1: 171–188. Wang, Liqi 王利器. 2002. Collected Explanations on Family Instructions for the Yan Clan: Expanded Edition 顏氏家訓集解增補本. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Ziporyn, Brook. 2003. The Penumbra: The Neo-Taoist Philosophy of Guo Xiang. Albany: State University of New York Press. Yuet Keung Lo  is Associate Professor of Chinese Studies at the National University of Singapore. He specializes in Chinese intellectual history covering Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, and their interactions from the classical period to late imperial times. He is the author of Intratextual and Extratextual: Interpretations of Classics in Chinese Intellectual History (in Chinese, 2010), and co-editor with Alan K.L. Chan of Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China and Literature and Interpretation in Early Medieval China (2010). He has published numerous articles on Buddhism, the Yijing, Confucianism, Xuanxue, and Chinese historiography.

Chapter 20

Guo Xiang’s Theory of Sagely Knowledge as Seen in his “Essentials of the Analects” Richard J. Lynn

1  Introduction In the Zhuangzi 莊子, inherent and spontaneous wisdom, the “real” wisdom associated with unity with the Dao 道, is promoted in opposition to wisdom consciously applied, the recorded “wisdom of the sages.” Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312 CE) expands on this dichotomy by distinguishing between the original spontaneous acts of the sages and the “footprints” or “impressions” (ji 跡) so made: the conventional worldly view mistakes such “footprints” as reliable recordings of formulas for behavior—especially rulership—but this, Guo tells us, is all wrong and inevitably leads to the perversion of human nature and the corruption of government, for such “wisdom” violates the Dao. This spontaneous vs. formulaic distinction lies at the heart of both the Zhuangzi, at least as Guo Xiang seems to read it, and Guo’s own commentary. Guo’s promotion of the sage-ruler in Daoist terms was designed to serve as a catalyst for the regeneration of self and society and the foundation of a worldly utopia. Readily apparent both throughout his commentary on the Zhuangzi, this same view dominates Guo’s “Essentials of the Analects” (Lunyu Tilüe 論語體 略). This long lost text survives only in fragments, nine passages in all, which were collected and published by Ma Guohan 馬國瀚 (1794–1857) in one fascicle (juan 卷) in his massive collectanea, the “Fragments of Lost Works Gathered at the Jade Casket Studio” (Yuhan Shanfang Jiyi Shu 玉函山房輯佚書), dated to 1883–1884.1 Ma gleaned the fragments from Huang Kan 皇侃 (488–545), “Collected  Reprinted in the Second Series of the Complete Library of the Four Treasuries 續修四庫全書, Miscellaneous Schools Category 雜家類 of the Masters Section 子部, volumes 1200–1205. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. 1

R. J. Lynn (*) Department of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_20

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Explications and Expository Commentaries on the Analects” (Lunyu Jijie Yishu 論 語集解義疏), a work lost in China since the Southern Song dynasty but preserved in Japan. This was reprinted and published in an emended edition by Sonshi Nemoto 根本遜志 (1699–1764) in 1750, a copy of which made its way to China about 1770, where after considerable editing it was included in the “Complete Library of the Four Treasuries” (Siku Quanshu 四庫全書) during the 1780s.2 The Lunyu Jijie Yishu has also been published under the shorter title “Expository Commentaries on the Analects” (Lunyu Yishu 論語義疏); an early such edition published in China was in Guangzhou in 1873 by the Yuedong Shuju 粤東書局 in the series Gujing Jiehui Han 古經解彙函, and a convenient moveable type punctuated edition was published in 1923 by the Kaitokudo Kinenkai 懐徳堂記念会 in Osaka. The Lunyu Jijie 論語集解 was compiled by He Yan 何晏 (196–249 CE), and includes commentaries by Kong Anguo 孔安國 (d. ca. 100 BCE), Bao Xian 包咸 (ca. 7–65 CE), a certain Master Zhou 周氏 (first century), Ma Rong 馬融 (79–166 CE) Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (127–200  CE), Chen Qun 陳群 (d. 236  CE) Wang Su 王肅 (195–256 CE), and Zhousheng Lie 周生烈 (195–256 CE).3 Huang Kan’s Yishu (Expository Commentaries) includes, besides fragments of Guo Xiang’s Essentials of the Analects, excerpts from twelve other commentaries, all by Western and Eastern Jin era (265–419  CE) figures, the best known of which are probably Li Chong 李充 (d. ca. 362 CE) and Yuan Hong 袁宏 (ca. 328–376 CE). The passages from Guo’s Essentials of the Analects transcribed, translated, and analyzed below are taken from Ma’s Yuhan Shanfang Jiyi Shu, Jingbian Lunyu Lei 經編論語類 (Confucian Classics division, Analects category), Diwu zhi 第五帙 (Case 5). References to Guo Xiang’s “Commentary on Zhuangzi” (Zhuangzi Zhu 莊子注) are to Guo Qingfan’s 郭慶藩 “Collected Explanations on Zhuangzi” (Zhuangzi Jishi 莊子集釋).

2  F  rom “Conduct Government” Part 2 (Weizheng di Er 爲政第二) The Master said: “If one conducts government with virtue, he shall be like the pole star that keeps to its own place while all other stars pay court to it.”4

子曰。爲政以德。譬如北辰居其所。而衆星共之。钟谦钧. When the myriad folk all can fulfill their natures, this is what is meant by “virtue”—and what has “conduct government” to do with that! Only when the myriad folk are allowed to fulfill their nature may it be said to be “virtue.” If they are allowed to fulfill their natures, 2  See Takahashi 2013. The Lunyu Jijie Yishu is also included in the “Collectanea Compiled at the Knows Not Enough Studio” (Zhibuzu Zhai Congshu 知不足齋叢書). 3  For the relationship between the Lunyu Jijie and Xuanxue 玄學 (arcane learning) thought, see Makeham 1999. 4  Passages in bold face are from the texts of the Analects and the Zhuangzi. Passages immediately following these are Guo Xiang’s commentary.

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they gravitate to one [a ruler], but if they are made to violate their natures, they turn against him.

萬物皆得性謂之德。夫爲政者奚事哉。得萬物之性。故云德而已也。得其性。 則歸之。失其性則違之 (Lunyu Tilüe, 1a).

To begin, we should note that “virtue” (de 德) in these texts rarely means moral virtue or goodness, but usually refers to such qualities of human character and behavior as efficacy, efficaciousness, power, potential, potency, force, or strength. Now for specifics: the term “fulfill [one’s] nature” (dexing 得性) in the above ­passage also appears six times in Guo’s Zhuangzi commentary, first in chapter 1 (xiaoyaoyou 逍遙遊), in a passage about the great Peng bird and the marsh quail, where “nature” is further identified as “inherent nature” (tianxing 天性), the measure of one’s “natural basic allotment” (ziran zhi su 自然之素): The marsh quail laughed at it [the Peng], saying: “Where is that one going? I get up with a jump, never get farther than a few yards, and then come down. To flutter through a stretch of wild grasses—this really is the best kind of flying. So where is that one going?” Such is the distinction between small and great.

斥鴳笑之曰: 彼且溪適也? 我騰躍而上, 不過數仞而下, 翺翔蓬蒿之閒, 此亦飛之 至也。而彼且溪適也? 此小大之辯也. Each fulfills its nature to the utmost and spontaneously realizes the full extent of its limits. Earlier, the text said that since the two creatures have different wing powers, destinations they can reach differ accordingly. The one soars off to the Pool of Heaven; the other fulfills its ambition by just going as far as an elm or a sandalwood. It is simply that each finds what is equal to its embodiment to be enough, yet is utterly unaware why it is so. But now the text discusses how the difference between the small and the great is determined by the natural basic allotment involved. Since this isn’t attainable by hope or envy, each is content with its inherent nature and feels no regret how it might differ.

各以得性爲至, 自盡爲極也。向言二蟲殊異, 故所至不同, 或翺翔天池, 或畢至榆 枋, 則各稱體而足, 不知所以然也。今言小大之辯, 各有自然之素, 記非跂慕之所 及, 亦各安其天性, 不悲所以異 (Guo 1961: 14 and 16).

Fulfillment of nature, as such, is the primary goal of all living things, including man. Such a view is stated later in the same chapter: … and the sage has no name.

聖人無名. “Sage” is nothing more than the name for someone who has fulfilled his nature, but such a term fails to indicate how such fulfillment occurred.

聖人者, 物得性之名耳, 未足以名其所以得也 (Guo 1961: 17 and 22).

In chapter 9 (mati 馬蹄) where the original utopian state of human existence is described, fulfillment of fundamental nature is key; moreover, it is implied that such perfect fulfillment indicates the “sage”—back in such pristine times anyone could be a “sage.” In this state of the “simple uncarved block” the original nature of the common folk was fulfilled.

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素樸而民性得矣. They were untroubled by awareness and desire.

無煩乎知欲也.

But such idyllic existence did not last: But when the “sage” arrived,

及至聖人, “The sage” means nothing but footprints left behind, indicating that the original nature of the common folk had been fulfilled and does not indicate the maker of the footprints. When the text states, “but when the ‘sage’ arrived” it means “but when his footprints appeared.”

聖人者, 民得性之跡耳, 非所以跡也。此云及至聖人, 猶云及至其跡也. Benevolence was practiced with such toil and effort, righteousness with such self-­ importance and confidence that the world began to have doubts. Such histrionic music was made, such picky and obscure rites were performed that all the world began to fragment.

蹩躠爲仁, 踶跂爲義, 而天下始疑矣; 澶漫爲樂, 摘僻爲禮, 而天下始分矣. Once the footprints of “the sage” were manifest, benevolence and righteousness became inauthentic and rites and music so estranged people from their original nature that all they could manage was but to feign outer appearance. Once “sages” appear, such fraud happens, but though this is so, what can be done about it?

夫聖跡既彰, 則仁義不真而禮樂離性, 徒得形表而已矣。有聖人即有斯弊, 吾若 是何哉! (Guo 1961: 336 and 337).

Unity with both one’s original nature and with the world at large depends on maintaining a perfectly unselfconscious awareness, a spontaneous and unreflective state of mind, utterly independent of external influences and models. The appearance of the “sage” perverted all this. In chapter 13 (tiandao 天道) “those in antiquity who understood the Great Dao” (Guo 1961: 471) clarified how mankind should behave in the world: Once how people should be used was clarified,5 they next addressed forgiveness and excuse.

原省已明而是非次之。 Each should regard fulfillment of one’s nature to be right and violation of one’s nature to be wrong.

各以得性爲是, 失性爲非 (Guo 1961: 471 and 472).

And in chapter 25 (zeyang 則陽), Guo declares that fulfillment of one’s nature is the greatest of joys: The old homeland, the old city, gazing upon it delights one so!

5  Immediately above it is stated that superiors should only employ them in accord with their original nature.

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舊國舊都, 望之暢然. To get back what one used to have, as delightful as that can be, how much more delightful it is to get back [fulfill] one’s nature!

得舊猶暢然, 況得性乎! (Guo 1961: 883).

Finally, in chapter 33 (tianxia 天下), the fulfillment of nature, at the core of Dao of the true sage, is declared the foundation of human happiness: Since it [the way of Mozi] causes people grief and to feel sad, its practice is difficult to perform, so I am afraid it cannot serve as the Dao of the sage.

使人憂, 使人悲, 其行難爲也, 恐其不可以爲聖人之道. The Dao of the sage allows the common folk happiness; it is by fulfilling their nature that they are happy, and being happy, the whole world is free from trouble.

夫聖人之道, 悅以使民, 民得性之所樂則悅, 悅則天下無難矣 (Guo 1961: 1075 and 1076).

The true king embodies and enacts such virtue that, like the polestar, everyone gravitates in orbit around him. One with his people, he shares in their joy, the joy they experience in fulfilling fundamental nature. Acting with them and never against them, their self-fulfillment is both the foundation of peace and prosperity and the stability of his reign.

3  F  rom “Conduct Government” Part 2 (Weizheng di Er 爲政第二) The Master said, “Guide them with government and regulate them with punishment, and the common folk will evade both without shame, but lead them with virtue and regulate them with propriety, and they will have a sense of shame and become rectified.”

子曰。導之以政。齊之以刑。民免而無恥。導之以德。齊之以禮。有恥且格. “Government” means establishing invariable rules, which are used to rectify the common folk, and “punishment” means promoting criminal law, which is used to determine innocence and guilt. When rules are invariable, people can feign compliance, and when criminal law is promoted, people can evade it. But being able to evade it, they violate innate character in order to avoid trouble. Capable of pretense, one casts off one’s original nature in order to comply with the rules. One’s outer self may be rectified by complying with the rules, but no submission occurs in the innermost heart. If one harbors the intention to avoid trouble, he will have no sense of shame when it comes to others. As far as moral transformation is concerned, is this not a flimsy way to go about it! Therefore, the text says, “the common folk will evade both without shame.” “Virtue” allows them to embody their original natures, and “propriety” allows them to realize the potential of their innate characters. Innate character has its own sense of shame, and original nature has its own source of being. When one fulfills his original nature, its source provides perfection, and when one embodies his innate character, he has a sense of shame. With this sense of shame, one regulates himself without threat of punishment, and with one’s source providing perfection, one rectifies himself without need for rules. This is how “one leads them with virtue and regulates them with propriety, and they have a sense of shame and become rectified.”

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政者。立常制以正民者也。刑者。興法辟以割制物者也。制有常則可矯。法辟 興則可避。可避則違情而苟免。可矯則去性而從制。從制外正而心內未服。人 懷苟免則無恥于物。其於化不亦薄乎。故曰。民免而無恥也。德者。得其性者 也。禮者。體其情也。情有所恥。而性有所本。得其性則本至。體其情則知 恥。知恥則無刑而自齊。本至則無制而自正。是以導之以德。齊之以禮。有恥 且格 (Lunyu Tilüe, 1a-1b).

The key terms here are “violate innate character” (weiqing 違情), “abandon original nature” (quxing 去性), “fulfill one’s nature” (de qixing 得其性), “embody one’s innate character” (ti qiqing 體其情), “self-adjust” (ziqi 自齊), and “govern oneself”, “self-rectification”, or “self-rectify” (zizheng 自正). Although weiqing “violate innate character” does not occur in Guo’s Zhuangzi commentary, the closely related term “violate original nature” (weixing 違性) appears in conjunction with quxing “abandon original nature” in chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性), a passage lamenting the loss of early man’s pristine unselfconsciousness as purposeful statecraft arose and Dao was abandoned: This was abandoning Dao to purvey goodness

離道以善 “Goodness” here is a term for doing more than what is appropriate. As such, when such goodness occurs, Dao loses its integrity.

善者, 過於適之稱, 故有善而道不全. or imperiling virtue to fabricate behavior.

險德以行 “Behavior” here means behaving in such a way that it violates original nature. As such, when such behavior is adopted, one is no longer pleased with one’s innate virtue.

行者, 違性而行之, 故行立而德不夷. After that they abandoned their original natures and followed the dictates of self-­ conscious mind.

然後去性而從於心. When the mind self-consciously engages itself, original nature is abandoned.

以心自役, 則性去也 (Guo 1961: 552–553).

Fulfillment of original, fundamental, innate personal nature thus depends on maintaining an unselfconscious state of mind. Purposeful rulership, itself self-­defeating, also affects the ruled, for such “corruption” starts at the top and works downward: the self-consciousness of the ruler undermines the pristine unself-­consciousness of all the people below him, who, as individuals, no longer are left to fulfill their own natures and embody their own characters. Although the term ziqi “self-adjust” does not appear in this sense in Guo Xiang’s Zhuangzi commentary, zizheng “self-rectify” / “rectify oneself” appears in chapter 5 (dechongfu 德充符): Among those who receive life from Heaven, it is only a Shun who is correct.

受命於天, 唯舜獨也正.

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That is, those who have received correct pneuma [zhengqi 正氣] are so extremely rare. Looking down, there are only the pine and cypress, and looking up, there are only the sages. This is why all those that are not correct come to them to seek correctness. If all things kept their greenness intact, none would esteem the pine and cypress, and if all people rectified themselves, none would admire the great sages and so gravitate to them.

言特受自然之正氣者至希也, 下首則唯有松柏, 上首則唯有聖人, 故凡不正者皆 來求正耳。若物皆有青全, 則無貴於松柏; 人各自正, 則無羨於大聖而趣之. It is because such a one is favored with the ability to keep his own life correct that he may correct the lives of all.

幸能正生, 以正眾生. It is just that such a one is favored with the spontaneous ability to keep himself correct and not that he deliberately practices correctness in order to be correct.

幸自能正耳, 非爲正以正之 (Guo 1961: 194–195).

And in chapter 25 (zeyang 則陽): The sovereign in antiquity attributed his success to his people and his failure to himself.

古之君人者, 以得爲在民, 以失爲在己. When the ruler fails at nothing, it is due to the people achieving self-fulfillment.

君莫之失, 則民自得矣. He attributed things going right to his people, and attributed things going awry to himself.

以正爲在民, 以枉爲在己. When the ruler does nothing awry, it is due to the people rectifying themselves.

君莫之枉, 則民自正 (Guo 1961: 902–903).

Whereas morality and good order imposed from without leads only to hypocrisy, pretense, and evasion, when people are allowed to develop their own innate virtues and thus achieve self-fulfillment, an inherent natural tendency to self-rectification results that leads to good order for all.

4  “ Transmit but [Not Originate]” Part 7 (Shuer di Qi 述而第七) [3]. When the Master was in Qi, he heard the music of Shao, which for three months made him unaware of the taste of meat. He said, “I never thought performance of this music would reach such a place!”

子在齊聞韶。三月不知肉味。曰:不圖爲樂之至於斯也. He was aggrieved that though the phenomenon existed, its Dao had been lost, for he experienced the sound of the one but had no opportunity for the other.

傷器存而道廢。得有聲而無時 (Lunyu Tilüe, 1b-2a).

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Although this short comment by Guo Xiang seems not to relate directly to anything in his Zhuangzi commentary, the meaning is obvious: the ruler of Qi was oblivious to Dao, yet he had music played that exemplified the sagely rule of Yao and Shun. Confucius was grieved that such music could be played in such a “Dao-less” place. We should also note that Guo’s opposition of “phenomenon” (qi 器) and Dao is derived from a passage in the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經), “Commentary on the Appended Phrases” (Xici Zhuan 係辭傳), part 1: “Therefore, what is prior to physical form pertains to Dao, and what is subsequent to physical form pertains to concrete objects (qi 器) [the phenomenal world]” (Lynn 1994: 67).

5  “Tai Bo” Part 8 (Tai Bo di Ba 泰伯第八) [4]. The Master said, “As for Yu, I have no way to tell him apart.”

子曰: 禹吾無間然矣. Yao, Shun, and Yu, who succeeded one another as three sages, actually amount to just one “Yao.” But as transformation and perfection of the world occurred, praise for what they were accomplishing gradually ceased, for they complied with things in such a way that it seemed just ordinary behavior, which is why historical records say nothing about it. Because Confucius could not distinguish him [from Yao and Shun], he said, “As for Yu, I have no way to tell him apart.”

堯舜禹相承。雖三聖故一堯耳。天下化成則功美漸去。其所因循常事而已。故 史籍無所稱。仲尼不能間。故曰。禹吾無間然矣 (Lunyu Tilüe, 2a).

Guo Xiang’s commentary here on the Analects seems to be based on a longer passage in his Zhuangzi commentary, in chapter 12 (tiandi 天地), where Yu attempts to yield rule to Bocheng Zigao 伯成子高, who refuses: “In the past when Yao governed the world, he made no rewards yet the people were still diligent; he carried out no punishments yet the people were awestruck. Now you make rewards and carry out punishments, but the people are still not benevolent. From now on virtue will decline and punishment increase, and the disorder of later ages will have its origin right here. Why don’t you just go away and stop interrupting my work!” He then busily went back to tilling and no longer paid him any attention.

昔堯治天下, 不賞而民勸, 不罰而民畏。今子賞罰而民且不仁, 德自此衰, 刑自此 立, 後世之亂自此始矣。夫子闔行邪?無落吾事! 俋俋乎耕而不顧. By the time of Yu, the three sage kings [Yao, Shun, and Yu] had succeeded one another, and as governance reached perfection and virtue was fully realized, praise for what they were accomplishing gradually ceased, which is why historical accounts record nothing of this, thus Confucius could not distinguish among them. Therefore, although they possessed the world, they did not concern themselves with it; that is, they possessed it but regarded it as naught. Those who hitherto investigated those times regarded Yu as the best, and reckoned that these men were three sages, but actually they were all just one “Yao.” As long as there were no sages, the minds of all in the world gravitated back to their pristine state, and, utterly impartial, someone [among them] took his rightful place [as ruler], who gave the world to the common folk. Since receiving or giving it away had nothing to do with him

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personally, when he lost it, he did not try to get it back, and when he received it, he did not decline to have it. Unselfconsciously he let it go, childishly unaware he let it come, which is why in receiving the world he did no harm to honest members of the elite and no surprise that he was named to the rank of the three sage kings. Master Zhuang accordingly brought to light the harm that “Yao” as such did, for the harm began with a “Yao” and reached a perfect evil with a “Yu.” When the distant footprints they had made were entrusted to Zigao, he refused to follow them and would not rule, for by repudiating sagehood he intended to recover unity with all things, and by discarding wisdom he intended to achieve the utmost serenity—but we have never heard if he actually did so. As for what Master Zhuang said, it can’t be probed as if it follows only one path. Sometimes he has it that the footprints left by the Yellow Thearch made Yao and Shun work off all hair from their shins, so how could it be said that he just esteemed Yao and denigrated Yu! Therefore, we should disregard the content of his metaphors and instead concentrate on the significance of “repudiate sagehood and discard wisdom.”

夫禹時三聖相承, 治成德備, 功美漸去, 故史籍無所載, 仲尼不能閒, 是以雖有天下 而不與焉, 斯乃有而無之也。故考其時而禹爲最優, 計其人則雖三聖, 故一堯 耳。時無聖人, 故天下之心俄然歸啟。夫至公而居當者, 付天下於百姓, 取與之 非己, 故失之不求, 得之不辭, 忽然而往, 侗然而來, 是以受非毀於廉節之士而名列 於三王, 未足怪也。莊子因斯以明堯之弊, 弊起於堯而釁成於禹, 況後世之無聖 乎! 寄遠跡於子高, 便棄而不治, 將以絕聖而反一, 遺知而寧極耳。其實則未聞 也。夫莊子之言, 不可以一途詰, 或以黃帝之跡禿堯舜之脛, 豈獨貴堯而賤禹哉! 故當遺其所寄, 而錄其絕聖棄智之意焉 (Guo 1961: 423–424).

Although Yao, Shun, and Yu became names for the creators of ideal worldly rule, they do no good but much harm, because, as models, they inevitably lead to imitation, which, in turn, perverts the innate natural self, so that the individual loses his authenticity and the good society is undermined. Such perversion affects the whole natural fabric of society: people try to overreach themselves, fomenting greed, dishonesty, exploitation of others, and, on a large scale, war and the slaughter of thousands.

6  “ Those Who First Advanced” Part 11 (Xianjin di Shiyi 先進第十一) [5]. When Yan Yuan [Yan Hui] died, the Master wailed with such profound grief that his disciples said, “How profoundly you feel!” “Do I feel such profound emotion? If I did not feel such profound feeling for this man, for whom would I feel it?”

顏淵死。子哭之慟。從者曰。子慟矣。子曰。有慟乎。非夫人之爲慟而誰爲慟. As others wailed, he too wailed, and as others felt profound emotion, he too felt it, for, utterly impartial, he transformed himself in step with others.

人哭亦哭。人慟亦慟。蓋無情者與物化也 (Lunyu Tilüe, 2a-2b).

To be effective the sage must blend in with people and become indistinguishable from them. However extraordinary he might be, he must seem utterly ordinary, for only then can he prevent his “footsteps” from being followed and thus spare people from perverting their natural selves by emulating a “false” model—for all human

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models, as such, are false. However, the sage never consciously merges with others, for, whatever he does, it is done unself-consciously with complete spontaneity. Description of such behavior is elaborated in chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師): Yan Hui asked Confucius, “As for Mengsun Cai, when his mother died, he wailed but shed no tears, seemed to feel no heartfelt grief, and mourned her with no appearance of sadness. Though deficient in these three ways, he had the very best reputation in all of Lu for the way he mourned. Did he really gain this reputation without actually doing anything to warrant it? I certainly find this strange!”

顏回問仲尼曰: 孟孫才, 其母死, 哭泣無涕, 中心不戚, 居喪不哀。無是三者, 以善 處喪蓋魯國。固有無其實而得其名者乎? 回壹怪之. Whereas those in the state of Lu observed his attention to ritual, Yan Hui examined his state of mind.

魯國觀其禮, 而顏回察其心. Confucius replied, “Master Mengsun having completely realized it [ritual], actually progressed beyond conscious awareness of it!”

仲尼曰: 夫孟孫氏盡之矣, 進於知矣. He completely realized the principles of dealing with life and death and resonated with what was suitable for both beyond worldly conventions and within them. When he acted, he moved in step with heaven and was not tied to self-conscious understanding.

盡死生之理, 應內外之宜者, 動而以天行, 非知之匹也. Mengsun was especially awake, so when people wailed, he too wailed—it was because of this that he behaved so.

孟孫氏特覺, 人哭亦哭, 是自其所以乃. As he was always awake, he never took exception to whatever there was to do, which is why when people wailed, he wailed too. It was in just this way that he accommodated himself to others.

夫常覺者, 無往而有逆也, 故人哭亦哭, 正自是其所宜也 (Guo 1961: 274–277).

Yi 宜 is an important term for Guo Xiang, for in the sense of accommodating oneself to others it occurs forty-six times in his Zhuangzi commentary. Note also that the Zhuangzi does not deny a place for the practice of ritual (li 禮) (and the other Confucian virtues as well), with the proviso, of course, that such practices be done spontaneously and not out of mere rote or, worse of all, with deliberate deceit in order to secure advantage.

7  “Xian Asked” Part 14 (Xian wen di Shisi 憲問第十四) [6]. Zilu asked about the noble man. The Master said, “He cultivates himself to be reverent.” “Is that all there is to it?” “He cultivates himself to bring contentment to his people.” “Is that all there is to it?” “He cultivates himself to bring contentment to the common folk, something that even Yao and Shun found hard to do.”

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子路問君子。子曰: 修己以敬。曰: 如斯而已乎。曰: 修己以安人。曰: 如斯而已 乎。曰: 修己以安百姓。修己以安百姓。堯舜其猶病諸. Even the “noble man” is incapable of sufficient self-reflexivity for this. “Cultivates himself” means self-reflexivity. Therefore, since such self-cultivation internally can only result in reverence for his own person and externally can only bring contentment to people of his own kind, how could it ever suffice to bring contentment to all the common folk! The common folk consists of all kinds of different people, and the whole world in all its parts ­follows divergent customs, so only when it is governed by not governing will it reach utmost perfection. If one wishes to govern it by cultivating himself, even Yao or Shun would have found this hard to do, so how much more so would a “noble man.” Now, we see that Yao and Shun had nothing to do with such cultivation but just let the myriad folk engage in their own non-purposeful actions and thus govern themselves—just as the sky stays up high all by itself, the land maintains its bulk all by itself, the sun and moon stay bright, and clouds move so rain dispenses its blessings. Thus, it is that one with complete composure is utterly unobstructed and, regardless of what possible means he uses, without exception finds that he encounters no hardship at all.

夫君子者不能索足。故修己者索己。故修己者僅可以內敬其身。外安同己之 人耳。豈足安百姓哉。百姓百品。萬國疏風。以不治治之。乃得其極。若欲 修己以治之。雖堯舜必病。況君子乎。今堯舜非修之也。萬物自無爲而治。 若天之自高。地之自厚。日月之明。雲行雨施而已。故能夷暢條達。曲成不 遺而無病也 (Lunyu Tilüe, 2b-3a).

The expression “just as the sky stays up high all by itself” occurs both in the text of the Zhuangzi and in Guo’s Zhuangzi commentary. In the Zhuangzi it appears in chapter 2 (qiwulun 齊物論), where concerning the spontaneous workings of the universe, all phenomenal reality, it is asserted that nothing rules anything else, yet a natural hierarchy exists. Just as with all the parts of the human body and their functions, the ideal society consists and functions in the same way. The natural functioning of society as a whole depends on each member functioning freely and spontaneously; as such, a natural hierarchy and perfect coordination result. In other words, when each is free to live in his own way, society as a whole, utopicially, prospers peacefully. A similar view of self and society occurs in chapter 2: Do these servants lack the wherewithal to manage one another other?

其臣妾不足以相治乎? As long as each servant acts according to his or her allotted capacity, they never fail to manage each other. Managing one another other means, for example, that each hand, foot, ear, eye, each of the four limbs and each of the hundred joints in addition to each having its own jurisdiction also exercises mutual sovereign control over the others.

夫臣妾但各當其分耳, 未爲不足以相治也。相治者, 若手足耳目, 四肢百體, 各有 所司而更相御用也. Or do they [parts of the body as “servants”] take turns in being ruler and subject?

其遞相爲君臣乎? Those who the times regard as worthies become rulers; those whose talents don’t answer the need of the age become subjects. As heaven is naturally high and earth is naturally low, so the head is naturally located above and the feet are naturally located below, so how could

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they take turns replacing each other! Though they make no effort to fulfill duties, each is sure to fulfill duties spontaneously.

夫時之所賢者爲君, 才不應世者爲臣。若天之自高, 地之自卑, 首自在上, 足自居 下, 豈有遞哉! 雖無錯於當而必自當也 (Guo 1961: 56 and 58–59).

The value in “governing by not governing” is described and explained in chapter 9 (mati 馬蹄): The potter says, “I am so good at working clay that my round pieces fit the compass and my square pieces match the square.” The carpenter says, “I am so good at working wood that my curved pieces fit the curve and my straight pieces match the straight line.” But how could the nature of clay and wood be such that the one needs to fit the compass and square and the other the curve and straight line? Nevertheless, age after age praises them saying, “As Bole was good at maintaining horses, the potter and carpenter are good at working clay and wood.” This too is the error committed by those who govern the world.

陶者曰: 我善治埴, 圓者中規, 方者中矩。匠人曰: 我善治木, 曲者中鉤, 直者應 繩。夫埴木之性, 豈欲中規矩鉤繩哉? 然且世世稱之曰: 伯樂善治馬而陶匠善治 埴木, 此亦治天下者之過也. The world commonly thinks that to allow people to follow their natural course and refrain from adding to their effectiveness is not a good way to govern. Bend the curved to make it straight or train the nag to make of it a great steed. One can try to use compass and square to force the nature of these to be what it is not, only stopping when they cause death, but to say that this is good government, is that not surely in error!

世以任自然而不加巧者爲不善於治也, 揉曲爲直, 厲駑習驥, 能爲規矩以矯拂其 性, 使死而後已, 乃謂之善治也, 不亦過乎! In my opinion, those who are really good at governing the world don’t do it this way.

吾意善治天下者不然. To govern by not governing, this then is to be good at governing.

以不治治之, 乃善治也 (Guo 1961: 330 and 334).

The true sovereign does not attempt to bend or straighten his people’s behavior, does not try to mold them in forms left behind by the ancient sages, that is, their “footprints” as represented by the Confucian Classics.

8  “ Duke Ling of Wei” Part 15 (Wei Linggong di Shiwu 衛靈公第十五) [7]. The Master said, “In my relation to others, whom do I blame, whom praise? If there is any that may be praised, there is a way to verify it, that is, by recourse to the common folk, for it was by recourse to them that the Three Dynasties were conducted by the straight and proper Dao.”

子曰: 吾之於人。誰毀誰譽。如有可譽者。其有所試矣。斯民也。三代之所以 直道而行也.

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Whereas to be free of conscious mind and so give oneself over to the world is to follow the straight and proper Dao, to be of self-conscious mind and try to make the world follow one is to pervert its method. This is why one should conduct things by the straight and proper Dao. Praise or blame should not be based on finicky personal views, for whether one is good or not should be verified by recourse to the common folk. Therefore, the text states: In my relation to others, whom do I blame, whom praise? If there is any that may be praised, there is a way to verify it, that is, by recourse to the common folk, for it was by recourse to them that the “Three Dynasties were conducted by the straight and proper Dao.”

無心而付之天下者。直道也。有心而使天下從己者。曲法者也。故直道而行者。 毀譽不出於區區之身。善與不善。信之百姓。故曰: 吾之於人。誰毀誰譽。如有 所譽。必試之斯民也 (Lunyu Tilüe, 3a-3b).

A close parallel in Guo’s Zhuangzi commentary occurs in chapter 32 (lie yukou 列 禦寇), where: After a man was granted an audience by the King of Song and presented with ten carriages, pumped with pride, he showed them off to Master Zhuang. Master Zhuang said, “By the Yellow River there was a man of poor family who depended on plaiting artemesia for sustenance, but when his son dove into the depths, he found a pearl worth a thousand pieces of gold. His father then said to him, “Take a rock and smash it! A pearl worth a thousand pieces of gold must have been kept under the jaws of a black dragon down in the nine strata depths, and you surely came on it while it was asleep. If it had been awake, what tiny part of you would still exist!” Now, there deep in the state of Song, is it not just such nine strata deep? And the ferocity of the King of Song, is it not just the same as the black dragon’s? That you were able to get carriages was surely because you came on him while he was asleep. If the King of Song had been awake, you would have been torn to shreds!”

人有見宋王者, 錫車十乘, 以其十乘驕稚莊子。莊子曰: 河上有家貧恃緯蕭而食 者, 其子沒於淵, 得千金之珠。其父謂其子曰: 取石來鍛之! 夫千金之珠, 必在九 重之淵而驪龍頷下, 子能得珠者, 必遭其睡也。使驪龍而寤, 子尚奚微之有哉! 今 宋國之深, 非直九重之淵也; 宋王之猛, 非直驪龍也; 子能得車者, 必遭其睡也。使 宋王而寤, 子爲齏粉夫! When someone is conferred wealth and honor, it must comply with the hopes and aspirations of the common folk. But if one depends on outlandish advice to ride on the ruler’s highway, if one tries to make the ruler’s mind to think like a child, a perspicacious ruler would not present such a one with anything! Therefore, if the ruler has someone to praise, it must be verified, that is, if it is not in opposition to his people and they all say “elevate him.” It was in agreement with the hopes and aspirations of the common folk that things were thus done with the straight and true Dao during the Three Dynasties of antiquity.

夫取富貴, 必順乎民望也, 若挾奇說, 乘天衢, 以嬰人主之心者, 明主之所不受也, 故如有所譽, 必有所試, 於斯民不違, 僉曰舉之, 以合萬夫之望者, 此三代所以直道 而行之也 (Guo 1961: 1061–1062).

The ideal society is thus a community of ruler and ruled in which commonality of value and purpose forms the foundation of peace and prosperity. The King of Song, of course, represents the very antithesis of this, recognized immediately as such by Master Zhuang as a danger to the unwary recipient of the carriages: any ruler who can arbitrarily reward, can also arbitrarily punish. Such a ruler, left to his own willful whims and acknowledging no constraint or guidance from the common folk, is as deadly as the black dragon in the depths.

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[8]. The Master said, “I once did not eat for a whole day and did not sleep for a whole night, all in order to think, but it proved worthless. It would have been better to study.”

子曰: 吾嘗終日不食終夜 不寢以思。無益。不如學也. The sage shunned any divergent teaching yet here says that he did not sleep or eat in order to think. Why was that? To understand only after thinking, to gain mastery only after studying, this is the way common folk all behave. Although the sage should remain disengaged and not deal with things as do the common folk, if he seems to engage with things as they do, his behavior resembles theirs. Therefore, since the way he looks might make people regard him as different from them, it is said that even a sage must diligently think and study hard. Such behavior fits with how common folk tend to behave, so he teaches them in terms of those tendencies. In other words, how the sage teaches consists of teaching others by adapting himself to them—so why should any divergent teaching be involved here!

聖人無詭教。而云不寢不食以思者何。夫思而後通。習而後能者。百姓皆然 也。聖人無事。而不與百姓同事。事同則形同。是以見形以爲己異。故謂聖人 亦必勤思而力學。此百姓之情也。故用其情以教之。則聖人之教。因彼以教 彼。安容詭哉 (Lunyu Tilüe, 3b).

Whereas “disengagement” (wushi 無事) is an essential aspect of sagehood, the sage, in order to hide his “footprints”, must blend in and merge with people in general, becoming thus indistinguishable from them. This is what Guo Xiang would have Confucius do here. Wushi “disengagement” occurs more than a dozen times in Guo’s Zhuangzi commentary, always signifying “free from self-conscious effort,” but since ordinary people don’t behave like that, the sage in order to appear like them must, paradoxically, seem to be engaged, seem to make conscious effort. Various passages, both in the Zhuangzi and in Guo’s commentary, describe how the true sage conceals himself, lest he leave “footprints” behind to lead astray the unwary common run of mankind. For example, in chapter 4 (renjianshi人間世): Be done with it, be done with it, trying to rule people with virtue! How dangerous, how dangerous, to draw a line on the ground to follow!

已乎已乎, 臨人以德! 殆乎殆乎, 畫地而趨! If you draw a line on the ground and try to get people to comply with it, your footprints no longer can be concealed. To take something of your own and try to rule others with it now means that you will fail to merge arcanely with others. Therefore, the great one does not light up himself in order to shine on others but allows others to light up themselves. He does not use the virtue in himself to rule others but allows others to exercise their own virtue. He can thus comprehensively interrelate with the myriad folk and so arcanely fuse other and self, perfectly identify with them, becoming one with the whole world, so that inner and outer share the same good fortune.

夫畫地而使人循之, 其跡不可掩矣; 有其己而臨物, 與物不冥矣。故大人不明我 以耀彼而任彼之自明, 不德我以臨人而付人之自得, 故能彌貫萬物而玄同彼我, 泯然與天下爲一而內外同福也. Obscure your brilliance, obscure your brilliance, and don’t harm your own progress.

迷陽迷陽, 無傷吾行! 吾行郤曲, 無傷吾足! “Obscure your brilliance” means the same as “disown your brilliance.” Disown your brilliance and give yourself over to independent spontaneity, for if you spread not beyond your own boundaries, your own progress can take its complete course. If everyone in the whole

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world were allowed to complete what their “I” can be, then no one who calls himself “I” would fail to achieve completeness.

迷陽, 猶亡陽也。亡陽任獨, 不蕩於外, 則吾行全矣。天下皆全其吾, 則凡稱吾者 莫不皆全也 (Guo 1961: 183 and 185).

Textual reference to such perfect self-effacement of the “great one” occurs earlier, of course, in the Daodejing 道德經 of Master Lao 老子, section 56, which may be the inspiration of what is said here: Block up your apertures; close your door; blunt your sharpness. Cut away the tangled; merge with the brilliant; become one with the very dust (Lynn 1999: 157).

塞其兌, 閉其門, 挫其銳, 解其紛, 和其光, 同其塵.

Such advice must have inspired and restored meaning to life for countless recluses throughout Chinese history who, for one reason or another, felt the need to drop out of society and turn their backs on officialdom.

9  “Yang Huo” Part 17 (Yang Huo di Shiqi 陽貨第十七) [9]. Confucius said, “Agreed. I shall take office.”

孔子曰: 諾。吾將仕矣. The sage, free of self-conscious mind, in taking or not taking office, just complies with the ways of the world. When Yang Hu urged him to take office, since it was the right thing to do, he could not but agree. If the world cannot use me, I should refrain from trying to get myself used, for this is the way to follow the straight and proper Dao and resonate with others. However, the principle underlying “being stern” and “being conciliatory” is also implied herein.

聖人無心。仕與不仕隨世耳。陽虎勸仕。理無不諾。不能用我。則我無自用。 此直道而應者也。然危遜之理。亦在其中也 (Lunyu Tilüe, 4a).6

Guo Xiang’s assertion that the sage is free of self-conscious mind also appears in his Zhuangzi commentary, in chapter 16 (shanxing 繕性): When virtue declined even further, Tang and Yu came along and started in with self-­ conscious purpose to rule the world, initiating the tradition of government administration and moral inculcation, which dissipated purity and shattered pristine simplicity.

德又下衰, 及唐虞始爲天下, 興治化之流, 澆淳散朴. The sage, free of self-conscious mind, allows the world to fulfill itself, and all attempts to fulfill it by recourse to the superficial aspects of purity have nothing to do with true sagehood. Since the sage does nothing but allow the world to fulfill itself, what can he have to

 Cf. Analects, Xian wen di Shisi 憲問第十四 (Part 14: Xian Asked): “When the state follows Dao, be stern in words and be stern in action. When a state is without Dao, be stern in action but conciliatory in words 邦有道。危言危行。邦無道。危行言遜.”

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do with making the world acquire sageliness! Therefore, though the footprints left by heavenly Monarchs and earthly Kings always kept changing from age to age, the Dao of the sage never fails to remain whole and intact.

聖人無心, 任世之自成。成之淳薄, 皆非聖也。聖能任世之自得耳, 豈能使世得 聖哉!故皇王之跡, 與世俱遷, 而聖人之道未始不全也 (Guo 1961: 551–552).

10  Conclusion Guo Xiang states his general view of Master Zhuang’s thought in his own preface to the Zhuangzi, a mixture of perceived shortcomings and strengths: As for Master Zhuang, it may be said that he really did understand the very essence of things, and, as such, never kept his wild talk about it just to himself. Nevertheless, I have to say that he failed to unite with it and only resonated with it as a person apart. Since he resonated with it but failed to unite with it, although he hit the mark, it was of no practical use. And because what he says does not address practical matters, though lofty it has no application. A gap certainly exists between him and one who silently refrains from action and starts to act only when inevitability demands. By this I mean one whose grasp of things is unselfconscious. If the mind functions with unself-conscious action, it responds only when it is immediately affected and resonates only with the moment involved. Such a one only speaks with the greatest of caution, and, as such, forms one body with transformation and, flowing through myriad ages, arcanely merges with it. How could such a one ever playfully talk about otherworldly things, presented in terms of his own individual experiences! Therefore, though Master Zhuang fails to be canonical, he still is the very best of all the non-canonical philosophers. However, although Master Zhuang never quite embodied transformation, his words still do reach perfection, for they thoroughly reveal the cosmic order of heaven and earth, perfectly comply with the nature of the myriad things, completely comprehend the changes attending life and death, and thus clarify Dao as it bears on sage within and ruler without. Above, he knows that the creator does not exist, and below, he knows that things that do exist self-create. His words, great and grand, point to arcane marvels. As for the absolute perfect Dao, what he says fuses elegance of exposition with profound and subtle meaning. Calm and self-possessed, he valued uninhibitedness, but, though uninhibited, he was not arrogant.

莊子序夫莊子者, 可謂知本矣。故未始藏其狂言, 言雖無會而獨應者也。夫應而 非會, 則雖當無用。言非物事, 則雖高不行。與夫寂然不動, 不得已而後起者, 固 有間矣。斯可謂知無心者也。夫心無爲, 則隨感而應。應隨其時, 言唯謹爾。故 與化爲體, 流萬代而冥物。豈曾設對獨遘而游談乎方外哉。此其所以不經而爲 百家之冠也。然莊生雖未體之, 言則至矣。通天地之統, 序萬物之性, 達死生之 變, 而明內聖外王之道。上知造物無物, 下知有物之自造也。其言宏綽, 其旨玄 妙。至至之道, 融微旨雅。泰然遣放, 放而不敖.

Although Guo Xiang granted that Master Zhuang accurately understood and could eloquently expound what sagehood was, he insisted that Master Zhuang never quite made it to sagehood himself. This seems very much as how Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) regarded Master Lao 老子 a generation or so earlier, how Master Lao failed to embody “nothingness” (epithet of Dao), as recounted in the Wang Bi Zhuan 王弼傳 (Biography of Wang Bi) by He Shao 何劭 (236–301 CE):

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As soon as Hui [Pei Hui 裴徽 (fl. 230–249 CE)] saw him, he knew that this was an extraordinary person, so he asked [Wang] Bi, “Nothingness is, in truth, what the myriad things depend on for existence, yet the sage [Confucius] was unwilling to talk about it, while Master Lao expounded upon it endlessly. Why is that?” Wang Bi replied, “The sage embodied nothingness, so he also knew that it could not be explained in words. Thus, he did not talk about it. Master Lao, by contrast, operated on the level of being. This is why he constantly discussed nothingness; he had to, for what he said about it always fell short.”

徽一見而異之。問弼曰: 夫無者誠萬物之所資也。然聖人莫肯致言, 而老子申之 無已者何? 弼曰: 聖人體無, 無又不可以訓, 故不說也。老子是有者也, 故恒言無 所不足 (Sanguo Zhi 三國志 1975: 26.795).

Despite the many passages in the Zhuangzi where Confucius is found wanting and undergoes correction from Master Zhuang and other Daoist worthies and sages, occasionally, as in the passage quoted and analyzed above concerning Mengsun Cai, Confucius comes off rather well from a Daoist point of view, for he is portrayed as perfectly understanding how and why Mengsun is a sage—with the strong implication that he himself is a sage too. Note also that Guo Xiang in his preface denies Master Zhuang a place among canonical figures. Since “canonical” (jing 經) means the Confucian or Ruist Classics, among which is found the Analects, just as Wang Bi placed Confucius above Laozi as a sage, Guo did the same and placed Confucius above Master Zhuang. Moreover, the very fact that Guo did a commentary on the Analects means that he must have thought that it contained his kind of Daoist sagely wisdom. His Xuanxue reading of the Analects is thus comparable to the way he read the Zhuangzi. Also significant is Guo’s assertion that Master Zhuang, “although he hit the mark, it was of no practical use. And because what he says does not address practical matters, though lofty it has no application.” Given the evidence of Guo’s own commentary, which expands and elaborates on much of what the text of the Zhuangzi has to say, I believe we can safely conclude that his commentary was designed in large part to demonstrate how Master Zhuang’s sayings, “of no practical use” may be developed into a detailed and comprehensive treatise of useful statecraft—advice to the ruler, if not how to become a sage, at least how to rule like one. Guo Xiang concludes with words for the more general reader, anyone who wishes to apply the truths revealed in the Zhuangzi to individual life: Therefore, if one reads this book, he will transcend the common world to realize that he already has what is just right in himself. He will cross over Mount Kunlun and ford the Great Void to wander at ease in the Garden of the Dim and the Dark. Even the insatiably greedy and the rashly ambitious will for a time pick from its overabundant fragrant blossoms, savor its brimming richness of flavor, and lose themselves amidst its sounds and images; enough so that with expanded thought and sensibilities one achieves a state of mind in which physical existence is forgotten and self-fulfillment achieved. So how much the more capable of this will those be who have plumbed their deepest feelings and made sport of longevity! Profound and far-sighted, these will then abandon the dusty world and find their way back to the arcane fulfillment of individual limits.

故觀其書, 超然自以爲已當, 經崑崙, 涉太虛, 而游惚怳之庭矣。雖復貪婪之人, 進 躁之士, 暫而攬其餘芳, 味其溢流, 彷彿其音影, 猶足曠然有忘形自得之懷, 況探其 遠情而玩永年者乎。遂綿邈清遐, 去離塵埃而返冥極者也 (Guo 1961: iii).

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Bibliography Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1961. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1994. The Classic of Changes: A New Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Lynn, Richard J., trans. 1999. The Classic of the Way and Virtue: A New Translation of the Tao-Te Ching of Laozi as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York: Columbia University Press. Ma, Guohan 馬國瀚. 2004. Fragments of Lost Works Gathered at the Jade Casket Studio 玉函山 房輯佚書. In Second Series of the Complete Library of the Four Treasuries 續修四庫全書, Miscellaneous Schools Category 雜家類 of the Masters Section 子部, volumes 1200–1205. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Makeham, John. 1999. “He Yan, Xuanxue and the Editorship of the Lunyu Jijie.” Early Medieval China, 5: 1–35. Sanguo Zhi 三國志. 1975. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Takahashi, Hitoshi 高橋均. 2013. A Study of the Lunyu Yishu 論語義疏の研究. Tokyo: Sōbunsha 創文社. Richard J. Lynn is Professor Emeritus in the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Toronto. He has published several monographs on Chinese poetics and literature, translated the Classic of Changes (1994) and Daodejing (1999) with Wang Bi’s commentary, and has just finished a complete translation of the Zhuangzi with Guo Xiang’s commentary.

Chapter 21

Ge Hong and the Darkness Gil Raz

It is only the dark Dao with which one can attain longevity 其唯玄道, 可與為永.1

1  Introduction Is the Dark (xuan 玄) a synonym, descriptor, or quality of Dao 道, the Way? Should xuan be understood as a noun, an adjective, or a process? Debates about xuan, its meaning and significance, dominated much of Chinese philosophy between the Han and Tang dynasties. While the term seems especially associated with the philosophical trend named Xuanxue 玄學, the “study of xuan,” it was in fact significant to a far wider philosophical and religious audience. This chapter focuses on the analysis of xuan in the work of Ge Hong 葛洪 (284–364  CE), also known as Master Embracing the Unhewn (Baopuzi 抱朴子), a sobriquet inspired by the Daodejing,2 well known as an alchemist and seeker of immortality. Ge Hong’s major works,3 the eponymous Inner

 Wang 1996: 1. Wang’s Baopuzi Neipian Jiaoshi 抱朴子內篇校釋 is the base text for this essay. The Dunhuang recension of this passage has waiyong 推求 instead of weiyong 為永 (Wang 1996: 4n6), which would render this line as “It is only the dark Dao which one should seek and attain.” 2  Daodejing chapter 19: “絕聖棄智, 民利百倍; 絕民棄義, 民復孝慈; 絕巧棄利, 盜賊无有。此 三者, 為文不足, 故令有所屬:見素抱朴, 少私寡欲.” 3  For a full list of works attributed to Ge Hong, most of which are not extant, see Wang 1996: 390–395. 1

G. Raz (*) Department of Religion, Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_21

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Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子內篇, the Outer Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子外篇,4 the Traditions of Divine Transcendents (Shenxian Zhuan 神仙傳), have all been studied extensively and translated into English,5 making him among the best known of medieval Chinese authors. Ge Hong discusses xuan in “Penetrating the Dark 暢玄,” the opening chapter of the Inner Chapters, that constitutes the philosophical basis for the following chapters and their numerous methods for seeking immortality. Chinese scholarship has tended to discuss Ge Hong within the context of history of science and of Daoism,6 and rarely in the context of philosophy. For example, Ge Hong is not included in Zhongguo Xueshu Sichao Shi 中国学术思潮史, a recent compilation of philosophical texts and studies dedicated to Xuanxue,7 or in Wang Baoxuan’s 王葆玹 Xuanxue Tong lun 玄學通論.8 Moreover, even when Ge Hong is included in discussions of Xuanxue it is usually with the caveat that he is not a typical Xuanxue author but that his ideas hark back to earlier Han intellectual traditions. This scholarly debate, however, often focuses on a very narrow set of texts associated with He Yan 何晏 (196–249 CE) and Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) of the Zhengshi era (240–249 CE), Ji Kang 嵇康 (223–262 CE), Ruan Ji 阮籍 (210–263 CE), and ending with Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312 CE).9 Recently, Ge Hong has been taken more seriously as a major thinker of his era and as a representative of larger religious and intellectual trends in medieval China. Robert Campany has contrasted Ge Hong with his contemporary Gan Bao 干寶 (d. 336 CE).10 Both authors were explicitly opposed to “the entire repertoire of ideas, practices, narratives, and personages that had come to be associated with the by then loaded expressions Xuanxue and qingtan 清談 [pure conversation].”11 Campany, however, shows their different worldviews in the context of the locative and utopian framework introduced by J.Z. Smith. This innovative analysis not only allows us to see distinct worldviews in medieval China from a wholly new perspective, but furthermore allows us to compare these views cross-culturally. A more direct cross-­cultural comparison was undertaken by Zhang Ji who places Ge Hong in conversation with Plato, focusing on the ontological question of “one and the many.”12 Zhang thus engages Ge Hong’s

 See Yang 1997.  A full English translation of the Inner Chapters was produced by James Ware in 1966 but this translation is outdated and often misleading. For a translation of the Outer Chapters, see Sailey 1978. For a careful analysis and translation of Traditions of Divine Transcendents, see Campany 2002. Ge Hong’s importance in the history of Daoism is discussed in Robinet 1997. On Ge Hong’s importance in the history of Chinese science, especially alchemy, see Needham et  al. 1976; Pregadio 2006. On the ambiguous relationship between alchemy and Daoism, and Ge Hong’s location in the interstices of these categories, see Sivin 1978. 6  Relevant publications are too numerous to list. Representative works include: Chen 1963; Hu 1989; and Li 1998. 7  See Yin and Zhou Shan 2006, volume 3. 8  Wang 1996. 9  See, for example, Chan and Lo 2010; Tao 1990. 10  See Campany 2005. 11  Campany 2005: 183. 12  Zhang 2012. 4 5

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distinct Daoist vision, including an alchemical hermeneutic, with a philosophical discourse that had been dominated by Western assumptions and cases. The focus of this chapter is far more limited, seeking to explore Ge Hong’s notion of xuan. While some recent English language scholarship has debated whether the term Xuanxue can be adequately translated,13 there has been relatively little discussion of the word xuan itself. As is well known, xuan appears several times in received Daodejing as a near synonym, designation, descriptor, or quality of Dao. But what is the significance of this word in this particular context? And why does Ge Hong use this word in this opening chapter of his book? The Han-era dictionary Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字 provides two definitions of xuan: the word signifies both “remote” (youyuan 幽遠) and “black with dark red” (hei er you chise 黑而有赤色).14 These definitions are suggestive but insufficient. Alan Chan provides a few quotes from Shijing 詩經 (Book of Poetry) poems in which xuan is clearly used as a color descriptor, usually referring to black, but this is clearly not the connotation of the word in the Daodejing 道德經, or in the Han and post-Han texts. In these texts, xuan is used to designate a quality beyond all colors and all visible forms, beyond even the most basic divisions. Thus, the word xuan emphasizes ineffability, remoteness, and absence. In these contexts, “dark” is an appropriate translation. Somewhat ironically, perhaps, the authors associated with Xuanxue rarely discuss the word xuan itself, but focus on the concepts of Dao 道 and “absence” (wu 無). It is important to remember that discussions of xuan did not begin or end with these scholars. The word xuan appears several times in the received Daodejing, was discussed and used by several authors during the Han as synonymous or parallel to Dao, and became a focus of far ranging debates within the emerging Daoist synthesis of Xuanxue. The word Xuan was used in a variety of contexts in Daoist scriptures and rituals between the second and sixth centuries, ranging from the cosmogonic narratives of the early Celestial Master community,15 to the title of the canonic Lingbao 靈寶 corpus, “Cavern of Mystery” (dongxuan 洞玄). The division of the Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏) that includes the Daodejing, its commentaries, and affiliated texts is the “Division of Great Mystery” (Taixuan bu 太玄部).16 Thus, rather than the limited discussion in the context of the Xuanxue movement of the third to fifth century, Ge Hong should be  Chan and Lo 2010 and D’Ambrosio 2016 opt not to translate the term xuanxue.  Quoted in Chan and Lo 2010: 19n3; see also Tao 1990. 15  The third-century scripture Commands and Admonitions for the Families of the Great Dao describes “Dao bestows itself by means of subtle pneumas. They are of three colors, associated with the Dark, Primordial, and Inaugural pneumas (xuan yuan shiqi玄元始氣). The dark is azure and formed heaven, the inaugural is yellow and formed earth, the primordial is white and formed Dao. Within the three pneumas, Dao controls all above and below and is the father and mother of the myriad things.” Dadao Jia Lingjie 大道家令戒 in Zhengyi Fawen Tianshijiao Jieke Jing 正一 法文天師教戒科經正 (Daozang 789: 12a6–10), translated in Bokenkamp 1999: 165–166. For a discussion of the development of this concept, see Bokenkamp 1999: 188–194. 16  This division was probably introduced by Wang Yan 王延 in the 570’s under the auspices of Emperor Wu of the Northern Zhou. In the Song Baowen tonglu 寶文統錄 Daoist canon, presented in 1017, this section had grown to the largest in the canon. Schipper and Verellen 2006: 19, 27, 55; The texts of the Taixuan Division in the Zhengtong Daoist Canon are listed and analyzed on pages 495–501. For a detailed study, see Zheng 2009, especially 285–304. 13

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discussed within the broader context of Daoist philosophy, beginning with the Daodejing itself, through the Han traditions often labeled Huang-Lao and the various scriptural and ritual texts of the medieval era, to the emergence of the Double Mystery (chongxuan 重玄) philosophers of the early Tang.17 It is within this context that Ge Hong’s contribution can be better appreciated. Unlike most Xuanxue authors, whose analysis was an intellectual exercise with moral and ethical implications, Ge Hong’s discussion of xuan was the philosophical foundation for his exploration of immortality (xian 仙, transcendence). Ge Hong was explicitly critical of the Xuanxue thinkers, such as He Yan, Wang Bi, and others he labels “embracers of emptiness,” borrowing Campany’s felicitous phrase.18 Ge Hong’s own notion of xuan harks back to Han era compositions, such as Yang Xiong’s Taixuanjing 太玄經 and especially, as we will see below, to the Huainanzi 淮南子.19 The opening lines of “Penetrating the Dark” are not only based on key terminology and concepts introduced in the Huainanzi, they may be modeled on a line from the latter’s first chapter “yuandao 原道.” Indeed, this chapter appears to be a major source for Ge Hong’s ideas throughout his discussion of the Dark. In the following section, I provide an annotated translation of the verse portion of “Penetrating the Dark.” The verse portion celebrates and elucidates the Dark as the cosmological primordium, that is ever-existent even if not always manifest, and as the cosmogonic source of all that exists. Most scholars tend to limit their discussion of Ge Hong’s to the verse portion, but we should remember that the chapter continues with a detailed discussion of those who attain the attain the Dark Way (xuandao zhe 玄道者). Ge Hong thus does not limit himself to a theoretical discussion of the Dark, but emphasizes the practical application of this knowledge.

2  The Darkness (xuan 玄) The verse portion, structured as a Han rhapsody (fu 賦), begins with a definition of xuan as The initial progenitor of the self-so; the great ancestor of the myriad distinctions 玄者, 自然之始祖, 萬殊之大宗也.

The proximate source for this line is in the “yuandao” chapter: “The formless is the great progenitor of things; the toneless is the great ancestor of sounds 夫無形者, 物 之大祖也; 無音者, 聲之大宗也.”20 Not only are the designations of xuan as “initial progenitor” (shizu 始祖) and “great ancestor” (dazong 大宗) probably based on Huainanzi, but the structure of the two lines suggests that Ge Hong is identifying xuan with the formless and the

 Zheng 2009, especially 451–462.  Campany 2005: 185, et passim. 19  Wang 1996: 4n1 (translated in Zhang 2012: 7); Tao 1990: 735; Li 1998: 104. 20  Liu 1989: 28; Major et al. 2010: 63. 17 18

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toneless, that is, with Dao itself. While the Huainanzi emphasizes the absence of particularities (e.g., form, tone) in defining Dao, Ge Hong encapsulates the entirety of the ineffable Dao with the single word: xuan. Rather than stressing the absence of specific characteristics, Ge Hong emphasizes the inaccessibility of Dao by using the label “dark.” While these lines stress the ultimate cosmogonic aspect of xuan, we should note that in chapter 7 “Countering Objections” (sai nan 塞難), Ge Hong, while comparing Confucius and Laozi and the respective ease of their teachings, states that the “Dao is the fount of the myriad distinctions 道者萬殊之源也.”21 Clearly, for Ge Hong, Dao and the Dark are synonymous and equivalent. In the following couplet, Ge Hong employs the meanings of xuan as remote and deep in order to explicate the labels subtle (wei 微) and wondrous (miao 妙), both evoking the Daodejing: Imperceptible in its depth, hence it is named subtle. 眇眛乎其深也, 故稱微焉 Extending far in its remoteness, hence it is named wondrous 綿邈乎其遠也, 故稱妙焉.

The label “subtle” may be traced to chapter 14 of the Daodejing as the first of the three descriptors of the imperceptibility of Dao and the “wondrous” may hint at final line of its first chapter.22 This couplet may also allude to chapter 15 of the Daodejing, which describes the “ancient masters who were adept at the Way, they were subtle, wondrous, mysterious and penetrating; so deep they could not be known 古之善為士 者, 微妙玄通, 深不可識。夫唯不可識.” This passage is often understood to refer to sages who embody the Way.23 The final lines of the chapter resume the same language to describe the “ultimate person” (zhiren 至人) as “remote” (miao 邈) and “distant” (liao 遼). Could Ge Hong be hinting that he too is such a master? Having introduced xuan as the ultimate cosmogonic source and defined it as remote and pervasive in abstract terms, Ge Hong now shifts to define xuan as enveloping the universe in cosmological terms: So high, it caps and covers the nine empyreans, 其高則冠蓋乎九霄, So wide, it encompasses the eight directions, 其曠則籠罩乎八隅.

The term “nine empyreans” (jiuxiao 九霄) refers to a commonly held cosmology of nine heavens (jiutian 九天) that is mentioned in several pre-Han and Han sources without clearly elaborated explanation,24 among the most pertinent perhaps is the very same passage of the “yuandao” chapter cited above.25 Sources vary as to whether these  Wang 1996: 138. The proximate source for the term “myriad distinctions 萬殊” may be the Huainanzi “benjing 本經” chapter: “Yin and Yang uphold the harmony of heaven and earth and shape the physical forms of the myriad distinctions 陰陽者, 承天地之和, 形萬殊之體.” Liu 1989: 86; Major et al. 2010: 278. 22  Daodejing, chapter 14: “Look at it, it cannot be seen; hence it is named subtle 視之不見, 名曰微.” 23  Liu 2006: 196–197. 24  The Taixuanjing lists the names of the nine heavens, and correlates them with the nine lands and the nine types of humans. See Nylan 1993: 446; Liu 1998: 202. 25  “What we call the ‘formless’ is a designation for the One. What we call ‘the One’ is that which has no counterpart in the whole world. Majestically independent, immensely solitary; above it permeates the Nine Heavens, below it threads through the Nine Regions 所謂無形者一之謂也; 所 謂一者, 無匹合於天下者也, 卓然獨立, 塊然獨處, 上通九天, 下貫九野.” Major et al. 2010: 64. 21

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nine heavens are perceived as arranged vertically or arrayed horizontally in the eight directions, around a central pole, and it is often unclear as to which celestial structure is envisioned in particular sources.26 It remains unclear which view Ge Hong prefers. The word xiao appears as a descriptive name for the sky in several sources,27 but prior to the Wei-Jin era it is not combined with the cosmology of nine heavens. While the term “eight directions” (bayu 八隅) is a rare compound,28 the notion of eight quadrants was common in pre-Han and Han cosmology. Ge Hong is here perhaps demonstrating his antiquarian linguistic skills, but the cosmology he discusses is rooted in pre-Han and Han notions. In the next set of couplets, Ge Hong shifts from trying to define the indescribable and imperceptible to describing a variety of celestial, terrestrial, and meteorological manifestations. The focus here is on the substantial appearance of the imperceptible “dark” or, in other words, the physical manifestation of the formless Dao. Just as Ge Hong has avoided using the word Dao, he is here alluding to the notion of qi 氣 without actually mentioning the term. This passage is probably not a cosmogonic description or an attempt to show the appearance of the primordial qi within the world of manifestations, but rather an attempt to describe the constant mutations and ultimate formlessness of the ultimate Dao. Especially significant here is that by avoiding the words Dao and qi which imply some divergence within the ultimate, Ge Hong collapses any distinctions by continuing to refer only to xuan: Its radiance surpasses the sun and moon, 光乎日月 And its speed, that of a lightning flash. 迅乎電馳. Sometimes, it suddenly blazes and then fades, 或倏爍而景逝, Or, it soars and wheels as a shooting star, 或飄滭而星流, Or, it roils and boils in the vast abyss, 或滉漾於淵澄, Or, glides as floating clouds. 或雰霏而雲浮.

Following the description of the formless manifestations of xuan, Ge Hong resumes the discussion of the ultimate ineffability of xuan in terms of absence (wu 無) and presence (you 有).29 It is important to note that unlike the Xuanxue scholars who debated the precedence of wu and you, Ge Hong stresses that both are aspects of the ultimate unity of xuan or Dao. The next couplet, while seemingly resuming the earlier discussion of xuan as transcending and enveloping the vertical and horizontal cosmological boundaries, in fact refers to a specific cosmological model: Relying on myriad things it becomes present, 因兆類而為有, Entrusting to hidden stillness it becomes absent. 託潛寂而為無.

 Zhang 2012: 6.  Often in combination with yun 雲 “cloudy sky” or with chi 赤 “ruddy sky” as on the Wangziqiao Stele 王子喬碑 (full text in Cai Zhonglang Ji 蔡中郎集 in Hanwei Liuchao Yibaisan Jia Ji 漢魏 六朝一百三家集, Zhang Pu 張溥 (Ming dynasty) in Congshu Jicheng; Raz 2012: 80–85); Huainanzi, “yuandao 原道” chapter; and in the poem “Far Roaming” (yuanyou 遠遊) by Qu Yuan (340–278 BCE). 28  Found in received literature only in the Shanhaijing 山海經, “hainei xijing 海內西經” chapter. Wang 1996: 4n3. 29  For more on how Ge Hong employed these terms, see the chapter by Thomas Michael in this Companion. 26 27

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Sinking below the great abyss, and yet deeper; 淪大幽而下沈, Transcending the northern culmen, and roams beyond. 淩辰極而上游.

The term “great abyss” (dayou 大幽) originates in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing 山海經) where it refers specifically to the northernmost location on earth.30 The “northern culmen” (chenji 辰極) refers to the ultimate location of true north, the dwelling of the Great One (taiyi 太一).31 Thus, the terrestrial and celestial locations form an axis that links the celestial center with an earthly watery abyss.32 We should also note that until the Han dynasty there was no visible star at absolute north pole, thus associating absence with the ultimate center. Having described the cosmological totality of xuan, both in abstract terms emphasizing its ineffability and in terms of the dominant cosmological schemes, and defined its cosmogonic role, Ge Hong continues to describe xuan in the paradoxical terms used in Daodejing and Huainanzi to describe Dao: Metal and stone cannot match its hardness, 金石不能比其剛, Dew cannot compare with its softness. 湛露不能等其柔. Though a square, it cannot be drawn by a carpenter’s square, 方而不矩, Though a circle, it cannot be traced with a compass. 圓而不規. It arrives unseen and departs without trace. 來焉莫見, 往焉莫追.

Xuan is thus simultaneously supremely hard and soft, both rectilinear and circular. On the one hand, this rhetoric challenges regular linguistic and logical attributions and categories by claiming that xuan (or Dao) simply cannot be discussed or categorized in mundane language. On the other hand, the reference to the square and circle alludes to a complex argument that may be traceable to the Zhuangzi. Ge Hong is here responding to both the Huainanzi and He Yan’s “Discourse on Dao 道論.” The earliest reference may be in the famous tale of the useless tree in Zhuangzi, chapter 1 (xiaoyaoyou 逍遙遊) in which Huizi complains about the tree whose trunk is too convoluted to measure with an ink-line and whose branches are too crooked to fit a compass or carpenter’s square.33 Zhuangzi responds that it is precisely because of its uselessness that this tree will survive and provide shade so that Huizi can “do nothing by its side, or lie down for a free and easy sleep under it 無為其側, 逍遙乎寢臥其下.” The simple reference to the compass and carpenter’s square in this passage is elaborated in later chapters in the Zhuangzi in which the tools become emblems of the destructive aspects of human civilization. In chapter 9 (mati 馬蹄) Zhuangzi criticizes the potter, along with the carpenter and the horse-handler, who boasts about his ability

 Wang 1996: 4n5 explicates it as “the ultimate Yin land in the north 北方極陰之地.”  In the “Astronomical Offices” (tian guan 天官) chapter of the Shiji 史記 (chapter 27.1289), Sima Qian described this location as: “In the Central Palace are the stars of Grand Culmen, the stars are most bright; it is the regular residence of Taiyi 中宮天極星, 其一明者, 太一常居也.” See Pankenier 2013: 88–97, et passim. 32  Zhang 2012: 18–19, for a similar argument. 33  “其大本擁腫而不中繩墨, 其小枝卷曲而不中規矩” in Nanhua Zhenjing 南華真經 collated in Xu Guyi Congshu 續古逸叢書. For translations, see Graham 2001: 47; Watson 2013: 6. 30 31

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to manage clay by using a compass and square. Zhuangzi responds that “surely, the inherent nature of clay and wood would not wish to be restrained by compass, square, hooks, and ropes? 夫埴木之性, 豈欲中規矩鉤繩哉.” A similar point is made in chapter 8 (pianmu 駢拇) where the compass, carpenter’s square, along with hooks and ropes, are mentioned as tools that damage the inherent nature of things. The natural state of things is to be straight without needing a carpenter’s square, or circular without needing a compass.34 In this passage, Zhuangzi introduces the notion that natural patterns may already be rectilinear and circular, and that these patterns transcend the human tools that limit and constrain nature. This notion of transcendent natural patterns is continued in the Huainanzi in the same passage from “yuandao” that Ge Hong seems to be following. In discussing the formless (wuxing 無形), also known as the One, the text says: “Though round, it does not fit within the compass; though square, it does not fit within the carpenter’s square; greatly disordered, yet constituting a unity, proliferating, yet without root 員不中規, 方不中矩; 大渾而為一, 葉累而無根.”35 These lines emphasize the paradoxical qualities of the ultimate entity that defies definition by simultaneously incorporating and transcending all possible permutations, aspects, and categories. In his “Discourse on Dao” He Yan also refers to the compass and carpenter’s square, but seems to disagree with the Huainanzi about the transcendent presence of rectilinearity and circularity. Echoing Daodejing chapter 40, He Yan writes that beings and affairs depend on “no-thingness” or “absence” (wu 無) to come into existence. The ultimate “absence” is nameless, formless, and soundless, yet all things emerge from it. Especially pertinent is the line: “The dark becomes black by it, the plain becomes white by it, the carpenter’s square becomes square by it, the compass becomes round by it. The square and round obtain forms, but that [which gives them form] is formless; white and black obtain names, but that [which gives them name] is nameless.”36 In this passage, echoing the opening passage of the “yuandao” chapter of the Huainanzi, He Yan implies that the manifested categories and things of the world (white, black, round, square) obtain their actuality and presence from the formless and nameless “absence” that provides meaning and concreteness to abstract notions (dark and plain). While this process is not explained, for our purpose it is important to note that He Yan implies rectilinearity and circularity exist only within the world of things, formed by the compass and carpenter’s square, but they are not inherent qualities of the nameless. We should also note that “dark” is just one of the abstract notions mentioned by He Yan and not a synonym or aspect of the ultimate “absence.” Both of these ideas clearly diverge from Ge Hong’s notions.

 “且夫待鉤繩規矩而正者, 是削其性 ⋯⋯ 天下有常然, 常然者, 曲者不以鉤, 直者不以繩, 圓 者不以規, 方者不以矩.” Watson 2013: 61–62. 35  Liu 1989: 19; Major et al. 2010: 64. 36  He Yan “Dao lun”: “玄以之黑, 素以之白, 矩以之方, 规以之圆; 圓方得形, 而此無形; 白黑得 名, 而此無名.” Compare the translation in Chan and Lo 2010: 24. 34

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Ge Hong’s elaboration of the “dark” continues in the next lines which resonate with the opening lines of the “yuandao” chapter that He Yan also alluded to.37 In the Huainanzi these lines explicitly refer to Dao, and ultimately allude to chapter 39 of the Daodejing which claims that the essential qualities that define heaven, earth, spirits, valleys, and the myriad things is derived from the One: Qian (heaven) is eminent because of it, 乾以之高, Kun (earth) is humble because of it, 坤以之卑, Clouds travel because of it, 雲以之行, Rains pour because of it. 雨以之施.

In the next couplet, Ge Hong proceeds to describe the cosmogonic role of the Dark (or Dao) as it emanates the basic principles and processes that lead to the world of existence, as we know it: Its womb held the primordial one, 胞胎元一, It formed and cast the two principles. 範鑄兩儀. It exhaled and inhaled the great beginning, 吐納大始, It fired and smelted the billion types. 鼓冶億類.

In this cosmogonic passage, Ge Hong shifts to another Han-era intellectual tradition, focusing on Yijing 易經 commentaries and weft texts (chenwei 讖緯).38 The term “primordial one” (yuanyi 元一) may originate in Liu Xin’s 劉歆 (46 BCE-23 CE) Triple Concordance astronomical system (Santong Li 三統曆).39 According to this complex system, the “three concordances integrate at a single primordium, hence based on the primordial one the factor of twenty-seven (nine threes) was established, and thirty-three (eleven threes) was made the result 三統合於一元, 故因元一而九三 之以為法, 十一三之以為實.” Liu Xin further states “the Classic takes the primordial one as the beginning; the Changes is the start of the supreme ultimate 經元一以統始, 易太極之首也.” Thus, Liu Xin uses the term “primordial one” to define the moment in which the temporal cycles of the current universe begun.

 “Mountains are high because of it, abysses are deep because of it, beasts can run because of it, birds can fly because of it, the sun and moon are bright because of it, the stars and timekeepers move because of it, the qilin roams because of it, and the phoenix soars because of it 山以之高, 淵 以之深, 獸以之走, 鳥以之飛, 日月以之明, 星曆以之行, 麟以之遊, 鳳以之翔.” Liu 1989: 1; Major et al. 2010: 48. 38  The term chenwei literally means “prognostications and weft-texts.” For brevity, I use only the latter term. These texts were purportedly exegetical works on the Confucian Classics, literally the warp, or the guiding threads of a piece of weaving. This weaving metaphor carries a cosmological import: one, especially the ruler, should follow the cosmic lines described in the warp, i. e., the Classics, and do so by adhering to the commentaries, the weft. Only then would the cosmic pattern and social fabric reach perfection. Some scholars translate this term as “Apocrypha.” I find this not only obscures the underlying metaphor which relates these texts to the Classics, but, moreover, carries the connotation of “non-canonical” due to its use in Biblical exegesis. For a discussion of these terms see Lü 1995, 2003. Lü translates chenwei as “prophetic-apocryphal texts.” 39  Hanshu 1962: 1011–1024. See also Sivin 1969; Cullen 2001, 2016. 37

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The term “great beginning” (taishi 太始) alludes to another cosmogonic system that developed during the Han. The term first appears in Huainanzi, chapter 3 (tianwen 天文) that simply defines the pre-existent state of non-differentiation as “great beginning.”40 This notion is further developed in the Western Han Weft-text Yiwei Qianzuodu 易緯乾鑿度 which places it in a cosmogonic sequence: taiyi 太易 “great change,” taichu 太初 “great inception,” taishi, and taisu 太素 “great simplicity.” These stages are further explicated as: “Great change is when qi has not yet manifested; great inception is when qi emerges; great beginning is when form emerges; great simplicity is when substance emerges.”41 Both “primordial one” and “great beginning” thus indicate the beginning of the existent universe with all its cycles. Significantly, however, Ge Hong emphasizes that these primordial moments of the existent universe emerged from the “Dark” (or Dao), using a gestative metaphor for the former (maintaining the birthing metaphor of Daodejing chapter 42) and a breathing metaphor for the latter. These bodily metaphors are followed in both lines by the structuring of the world expressed in both lines by metallurgical or alchemical metaphors. Thus, the two principles of Yin and Yang are forged after the emergence of primordial one, and the myriad beings were smelted following the exhalation of the great beginning. This description presages the alchemical instructions in succeeding chapters. Significantly, the same set of metaphors are used by Ge Hong in a later chapter to describe the emergence of social norms: “As for Dao, it thus molded the hundred clans: having formed and cast the two principles, its womb held the myriad types and engendered the social structures 道也者, 所以陶冶百氏, 範鑄兩儀, 胞胎萬類, 醞釀彛倫者也.”42 Ge Hong thus claims that the same cosmogonic principles that generated the world simultaneously produced the social structures. Having described the appearance of the initial patterns and principles of the cosmos, Ge Hong then describes the emergence of the basic celestial and temporal formations that determine the patterns of change within our world: It rotated and laid out the twenty-eight asterisms, 佪旋四七, It devised and completed the initial creation43 匠成草昧. It reined and whipped the numinous intentions,44 轡策靈機, It blew forth the four seasonal vapors. 吹噓四氣.

 Liu 1989: 52; Major et al. 2010: 114 (translated as Great Inception); the text actually has taishao 太昭, but commentators generally agree it should be 太始. 41  “太易者未見氣, 太初者氣之始, 太始者形之始也, 太素者質之始也.” Yiwei Qianzuodu 易緯 乾鑿度 (Boring into the Qian trigram, Yi weft text), in Shohachi and Kozan 1986: 39. 42  Chapter 10 (mingben 明本); Wang 1996: 185. 43  “Initial creation” (caomei 草昧), a term originating in the Yiijng line commentary on the hexagram zhun 屯: “The movement of thunder and rain causes fullness, but heaven’s creation was still obscure; it may be apt to establish a ruler, but he will not be stable 雷雨之動滿盈, 天造草昧, 宜 建侯而不寧.” Wang Bi’s comment explicates caomei as: “When the creation of things began, it begun in obscurity, hence it is called caomei 造物之始, 始於冥昧, 故曰草昧也.” “This may be compared to Wang Bi’s argument that the Confucian moral order emerges “from those who do not speak.” D’Ambrosio 2016: 626. 44  Compare Baopuzi waipian, chapter 19 “Renming 任命”: 蓋聞靈機冥緬, 混茫眇昧. 40

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After describing the cosmogonic emergence of the universe and the basic cosmological structures, Ge Hong concludes the verse portion of his appraisal of xuan by reiterating the cosmic totality and incomprehensible vastness of the Dark, on the one hand, and by defining its vital significance for the individual, on the other: It mysteriously encompasses the silent void, 幽括沖默, It unfurls and spreads the brilliant and dazzling. 舒闡粲尉. It lowers the turbid and raises the clear, 抑濁揚清, It fills and decants the He and the Wei. 斟酌河渭. Adding to it, it cannot overflow, 增之不溢, Depleting it, it cannot be exhausted. 挹之不匱. Aiding it, will not bring it glory, 與之不榮, Contending with it, does not cause it distress. 奪之不瘁. Therefore, wherever the dark is present, joy is limitless 故玄之所在, 其樂不窮; Wherever the dark is absent, 玄之所去, The vessels are damaged and the spirits departs. 器弊神逝.

The final lines of the verse portion of the chapter remind the reader that despite the universal pervasiveness of the Dark, it is incumbent upon the individual practitioner to ensure its presence within her own body. These lines, while clearly concluding the verse portion, serve as a segue to the next portion of the chapter that describes the different levels of attainment by those who comprehend the Dark and follow practices that lead to the embodiment of the Dark. Ge Hong refers to several specific practices and techniques, and the textual sources of this section include the poem “Far Roaming 遠遊” and its description of a cosmic journey to more technical literature. Many of the practices Ge Hong refers to were incorporated into the repertoire of practices of medieval Daoists. This section of the chapter thus not only bridges the Han cosmological premises that inspired the rhapsody on xuan in the first portion of the chapter to the following chapters of the Baopuzi, but also places Ge Hong firmly as a synthesizer of pre-Han and Han traditions and a major source for the emerging Daoist syntheses of the fourth and fifth centuries. The second portion of the chapter begins with Ge Hong’s discussion of the harm done to the senses of hearing and sight and inner nature (xing 性) by the sensory overload of extravagant music, sensuous beauty, and excessive food and drink. Sensual enticement, in particular, “chops at life’s allotment” (fa mingzhe ye 伐命者也).45 Criticism of sensory overload was a common trope in Daoist rhetoric, and may be traced back to chapter 1 of the Daodejing. The main point of this passage, however, is the claim in the final line: “It is only the Dark Dao with which one can attain longevity 其唯玄道, 可與為永.” As for those who do not know the Dark Dao, they will sink into a morass of extravagance and indulgence that inevitably end in sadness and depletion. Ge Hong presents a simple two-tiered hierarchy of those whose attainment he celebrates. The highest are those he labels “Those who attained it [the Dark Dao] 得之  The metaphor of an axe chopping at one’s life appears in early Celestial Master texts: (1) in the Xiang’er Commentary on the Laozi 老子想爾注 S. 6825 commenting on Daodejing, chapter 22: “evil is the axe that hacks away at my body 惡者, 伐我身之斧也.” Bokenkamp 1999: 116; (2) in Commands and Admonitions to the Families of the Great Dao (Dadao Jia lingjie 大道家令戒) in Zhengyi Fawen Tianshi Jiaojieke Jing 正一法文天師教戒科經, Daozang 789.19a: “Dao hides in the nameless, name is an axe that hacks away at the body 道隱無名, 名者伐身之斧.” Bokenkamp 1999: 182.

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者.” Next, are those he labels “truly know sufficiency 真知足.” The difference between these two levels is not very clear, as both are described as having embodied the Dark and attaining extra human abilities. He explains that the Dark Dao “is attained internally but lost externally,46 those who use it are as spirits, those who forget it are mere vessels.” Ge Hong describes those who attained the Dark Dao as: Riding on streams of light, whipping flying phosphors, traverses the six voids, and penetrates the watery depths. He exits the zenith and enters the nadir. He crosses the gate of the abyss, wanders through the wilds of remote marvels, roams free within the vague and confused, and walks at the edge of the mundane. He ingests the nine efflorescences at the source of the clouds, and imbibes the six pneumas at the cinnabar aurora. He loiters at the indiscernible and soars to the imperceptible, treads the rainbow, and paces the dipper.47

乘流光, 策飛景, 凌六虛, 貫涵溶。出乎無上, 入乎無下。經乎汗漫之門, 游乎窈眇 之野。逍遙恍惚之中, 倘佯彷彿之表。咽九華於云端, 咀六氣於丹霞。俳徊茫昧, 翱翔希微, 履略蜿虹, 踐跚旋璣, 此得之者也.

Besides the obvious references to the Daodejing and Zhuangzi in the phrase “roams free within the vague and confused 逍遙恍惚之中” and the hyperbolic description of the journey beyond the mundane realm and into the indiscernible (mangmei 茫 昧) and imperceptible (xiwei 希微) that recall the cosmic journey in “Far Roaming,”48 the passage also alludes to several important practices. The best known among these is “imbibing the six pneumas 咀六氣” that is mentioned in “Far Roaming” and can be traced to pre-Han texts.49  Wang Ming has 守之者外; on page 6n35 he explains that the Ming edition by Lu Wuzhi 盧舞 治 has 失之者外. This makes more sense in context. This is also the choice made by James Ware in his translation. 47  The term xuanji 旋璣 refers specifically to two stars of the Dipper, and by metonymy to the Dipper as a whole. Pankenier 2013: 460. 48  This sentence combines an allusion to “yuanyou” with a term commonly used to describe the unseen: “The strains of music spread everywhere, boundless, endless—upon which I then rushed away, in aimless meander 音樂博衍無終極兮, 焉乃逝以俳佪”; translation from Kroll 1996: 663. 49  Six pneumas 六氣 are distinct types of qi that are to be ingested or avoided at specific moments of the day and according to season. Some of these terms are mentioned in “yuanyou”: “Sip on the six qi and imbibe the Drifting Flow, ah! Rinse the mouth with True Yang and ingest Dawn Aurora 粲六氣而飲沆 瀣兮, 漱正陽而含朝霞.” Wang Yi’s 王逸 commentary cites Lingyang Ziming Jing (no longer extant): (1) in Spring, ingest Dawn Aurora 朝霞, the red and yellow pneuma of the sun just prior to dawn; (2) in autumn, ingest Sunken Yin 淪陰, the red and yellow pneuma of the sun just after sunset; (3) in Winter, imbibe Drifting Flow hangxie 沆瀣, midnight pneuma of the north; (4) in summer, ingest True Yang 正陽, midday pneuma of the south; (5) together with the Dark and Yellow pneumas of heaven and earth, these are the Six pneumas. Fuller details of the system are found among the Mawangdui manuscripts: “Ten Questions” (Shiwen 十問) and “Cutting off Grains and ingesting qi” (Quegu shiqi 卻榖 食氣), which provides a set of seasonal rules for imbibing or avoiding particular diurnal qi: 46

Season Spring Summer Autumn Winter

Avoid Turbid Yang 濁陽 Scalding wind 湯風 Frost Mist 霜霧 / 清風 (Harper, 308n3) Frozen Yin 凌陰

Ingest 金恍, 月光, 朝霞 朝霞, 沆瀣 月光, 輸陽 端陽, 月光, 輸陽, 輸陰

For translations of the Mawangdui texts, see Harper 1998: 395, 307, respectively; Li 2000: 324–330.

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Another practice mentioned by Ge Hong, “ingesting the nine efflorescences” (yan jiuhua 咽九華), also refers to breathing practice although the precise referent is unclear. Wang Ming interprets this phrase as the ingestion of lunar and solar essences.50 The ingestion of lunar and solar essences was a very common practice among Daoists,51 but as the various recorded methods do not refer to “nine efflorescences” this identification may not be correct. The term “nine efflorescences” is commonly used to describe the nine heavens. The late fifth-century Declarations of the Perfected (Zhen’gao 真誥), which preserves various records of Yang Xi’s 楊羲 (330–386  CE) revelations and conversations with his celestial interlocutors, reveals that Lady Li Consort An of the Nine Effloresecences of Upper Palace of Purple Clarity 紫清上宮九華安妃 was Yang Xi’s divine consort. In this context, it seems that Nine Efflorescences refer to the effluences of the nine heavens. Even more intriguing is the final phrase in this passage that describes the adept as “pacing the dipper” (jian shan xuan ji 踐跚旋璣). By the middle of the fourth century, several Daoist rituals included techniques named “pacing the void” (bu xu 步虛) and “pacing the guidelines and treading the Dipper” (bu gang ta dou 步罡踏斗).52 Ge Hong was clearly aware of such practices.53 Ge Hong’s second category are those “who know sufficiency,” described as hermits who “are able to dwell in seclusion and uselessness, being nourished by the radiance in mountain forests 能肥遁勿用, 頤光山林.” They see all worldly activities, status, and wealth as meaningless and distracting. The attainment of these adepts is so extraordinary that they can only be described in terms used in Daodejing and Zhuangzi to describe Dao: Their tranquility overflowing, they find pleasure in the site of non-action; in their happiness, they equate high and low status in the place of non-contention. Imbibing purity and preserving simplicity, they are without desire and without worry. With their perfection complete and their body an empty vessel,54 they dwell in tranquility. Immense and overflowing,55 their naturalness

50  Wang 1996: 7n39, quoting Yunji Qiqian, Daozang 1032.8. “The Perfected of Supreme Clarity label the sun and moon ‘Great treasure of nine efflorescence’ 上清真人呼日月為太寳九華.” 51  There are far too many examples to list, with over a dozen recorded in juan 23 of the Song Daoist encyclopedia Yunji Qiqian that is devoted to these practices. Several more are listed in other chapters. Examples that are contemporary to Ge Hong may include the “Way of Ingesting Lunar and Solar Essences” (Shi Riyuejing Zhidao食日月精之道) preserved in Lingbao Wufuxu, Daozang 318.1.18b8-26a8; A text by the title “Ingesting Lunar and Solar Essence Scripture 食日月精經” is listed in Ge Hong’s bibliographic chapter. Wang 1996: 333. Other possibly related titles listed by Ge Hong are “Lunar and Solar Kitchen Scripture 日月廚食經” and “Solar Essence Scripture 日精經.” 52  Andersen 1989: 15–53; Huang 2009: 57–90; Huang 2012: 38–52. 53  Ge Hong’s bibliographic chapter includes the title “Scripture of Pacing the Three Guidelines and Six Sequences 步三罡六紀經.” Wang 1996: 334. 54  Perhaps Ge Hong is alluding to a line in Xu Gan’s 徐干 Balanced Discourses (Zhonglun 中論): “In acting virtuously, can one be likened to an empty vessel? If a vessel is empty then things will flow into it, ceasing when full 人之為德, 其猶虛器歟! 器虛則物注, 滿則止焉.” Makeham 2002: 51. 55  Immensity translates huihui 恢恢, a term used in Daodejing chapter 73 to describe the heaven’s net (tianwang huihui 天網恢恢).

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is equal to that of the chaotically formed; vast and indistinct, they match tallies with the fashioner and transformer.

泰爾有餘歡於無為之場, 忻然齊貴賤於不爭之地。含醇守朴, 無欲無憂, 全真虛器, 居平味澹。恢恢蕩蕩, 與渾成等其自然。浩浩茫茫, 與造化鈞其符契.

The final line of this passage is especially striking as the adepts are said to be equal to the “chaotically formed” (huncheng 渾成), a label applied to Dao in Daodejing,56 and to the “fashioner and transformer” (zaohua 造化), which is based on “fashioner of things” (zaowu zhe 造物者), Zhuangzi’s term for Dao, or the transformative process of life.57 Ge Hong further describes these adepts as “remote” (miaoran 藐然) and “tranquil” (tan er 坦爾) who do not care about fame nor fear slander, as “they do not allow external things confound their concentration; they do not allow profit or loss damage their purity 不以外物汩其至精, 不以利害污其純粹也.” These adepts are so detached from the mundane world that they are not of it at all: “Constantly without care for worldly worries, they have not yet begun to mix with things 常無心於衆煩, 而未始與物雜也.”58 The chapter ends with Ge Hong’s stressing the critical importance of reclusion to those seeking to attain the Dark, finally concluding that they are “unknown, remote, and distant 人莫之識, 邈矣遼哉,” terms that are equally applicable to Dao and the Dark. Indeed, “remote” and distant were terms Ge Hong used to describe xuan in the second couplet of the rhapsody.

3  Conclusion Taken as a whole, in the opening chapter of the Inner Chapters, Ge Hong thus lays out a full cosmology in which xuan is the primordial cosmogonic source which can only be defined by remoteness and inaccessibility. It cannot be defined or even conceived in mundane language or logic, as it defies and transcends all distinctions in its unity, while simultaneously being the ultimate ground of all manifestations. These ideas are of course not original, but hark back to the Daodejing, and as the rhetoric of the chapter shows, to the “yuandao” chapter of the Huainanzi. Ge Hong, however, does not restrict himself to an intellectual or philosophical discussion, but links the ontological premises of xuan to epistemological implications, defined as “knowing the dark way 知玄道” or “knowing sufficiency 知足.” That is, one who claims to know xuan, or xuandao, must behave and act in particular ways that reject common notions of status,

 Alluding to chapter 25 of the Daodejing: “There is a thing chaotically formed, generated prior to heaven and earth 有物混成, 先天地生.” 57  “Fashion and transform” appears in the conclusion of the tale of the four masters who reputedly refer to the ‘fashioner of things’ in Zhuangzi chapter 6 (dazongshi 大宗師). Watson 2013: 47. 58  The last two sentences allude to another passage from Huainanzi “yuandao”: “What we call ‘heaven’ is pure and untainted, unadorned and simple, and has never begun to be tainted with impurities 所謂天者, 純粹樸素, 質直皓白, 未始有與雜糅者也.” Major et al. 2010: 57. 56

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wealth, and power. Anyone who acts in these common ways cannot by definition truly “know” Dao or xuan. Importantly, social disengagement and intellectual knowledge of xuan is insufficient. True knowledge of the xuan is defined as embodiment of the cosmological principles that can be attained through practices, many of which are alluded to in the text, and many more in the remaining chapters of Baopuzi.

Bibliography Andersen, Poul. 1989. “The Practice of Bugang.” Cahiers d’Extrême-Asie, 5.1: 15-53. Bokenkamp, Stephen. 1999. Early Daoist Scriptures. Berkeley: University of California Press. Campany, Robert. 2002. To Live as Long as Heaven and Earth: A Translation and Study of Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents. Berkeley: University of California Press. Campany, Robert. 2005. “Two Religious Thinkers of the Early Eastern Jin: Gan Bao and Ge Hong in Multiple Contexts.” Asia Major, 18.1: 175-224. Chan, Alan K.L. and Yuet Keung Lo, eds. 2010. Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China. Albany: State University of New York Press. Chen, Guofu 陳國符. 1963. Investigation of the Origin and Development of the Daoist Canon 道藏 源流考. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Cullen, Christopher. 2001. “The Birthday of the Old Man of Jiang County and Other Puzzles—Work in Progress on Liu Xin’s Canon of the Ages.” Asia Major, 14.2: 27-60. Cullen, Christopher. 2016. The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chinese Astronomical Systems. New York: Routledge. D’Ambrosio, Paul. 2016. “Wei-Jin Period Xuanxue ‘Neo-Daoism’: Re-Working the Relationship between Confucian and Daoist Themes.” Philosophy Compass, 11: 621-631. Graham, A.C. 2001. Chuang-Tzu: The Inner Chapters. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing. Hanshu 漢書. 1962. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Harper, Donald. 1998. Early Chinese Medical Literature: The Mawangdui Medical Manuscripts. London: Kegan Paul. Hu, Fuchen 胡孚琛. 1989. Daoist Practices of Immortality in the Wei-Jin 魏晉神仙道教. Beijing: Renmin Daxue Chubanshe. Huang, Shih-Shan Susan. 2009. “Daoist Imagery of Body and Cosmos, part 1: Body Gods and Starry Travel.” Journal of Daoist Studies, 3.3: 57-90. Huang, Shih-Shan Susan. 2012. In Picturing the True Form: Daoist Visual Culture in Traditional China. Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. Kroll, Paul. 1996. “Far Roaming.” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 116.4: 653-669. Li, Fengmao 李豐楙. 1998. Seeking Immortality in Baopuzi 抱朴子不死的探求. Taibei: China Times. Li, Ling 李零. 2000. A Study of Chinese Occult Arts 中國方术考. Beijing: Dongfang Chubanshe. Liu, Shaojun 劉韶軍. 1998. Collected Commentaries on the Great Mystery 太玄集注. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Liu, Wendian 劉文典. 1989. Collected Explanations on Huainanzi 淮南鴻烈集解. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Liu, Xiaogan 劉笑敢. 2006. Ancient and Modern Laozi: A Parallel Survey and Split Evaluation Introducing its Five Variations 老子古今: 五種對勘與析評引論. Beijing: Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Chubanshe. Lü, Zongli. 1995. Heaven’s Mandate and Man’s Destiny in Early Medieval China: The Role of Prophecy in Politics. Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Wisconsin at Madison. Lü, Zongli. 2003. Power of the Words, Chen Prophecy in Chinese Politics, AD 265–580. Bern: Peter Lang. Major, John et  al. trans. and eds. 2010. The Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China. New York: Columbia University Press.

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Makeham, John. 2002. Balanced Discourses: A Bilingual Edition. New Haven: Yale University Press. Needham, Joseph et al. 1976. Science and Civilization in China, volume 5. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nylan, Michael. 1993. The Canon of Supreme Mystery by Yang Xiong. Albany: State University of New York Press. Pankenier, David. 2013. Astrology and Cosmology in Early China: Conforming Earth to Heaven. New York: Cambridge University Press. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 2006. Great Clarity: Daoism and Alchemy in Early Medieval China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Raz, Gil. 2012. Emergence of Daoism: Creation of Tradition. New York: Routledge. Robinet, Isabelle. 1997. Taoism: Growth of a Religion. Phyllis Brooks, trans. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Sailey, Jay. 1978. The Master Who Embraces Simplicity: A Study of the Philosopher Ko Hung, A.D. 283–343. San Francisco: Chinese Materials Center. Schipper, Kristofer and Franciscus Verellen. 2006. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Sivin, Nathan. 1969. “Cosmos and Computation in Early Chinese Mathematical Astronomy.” T’oung Pao, 55: 1-73. Sivin, Nathan. 1978. “On the Word ‘Daoist’ as a Source of Perplexity, with Special Reference to the Relations of Science and Religion in Traditional China.” History of Religions, 17.3–4: 303-330. Shohachi, Nakamura 中村璋八 and Yasui Kozan 安居香山, eds. 1986. Isho Shusei 緯書集成. Tokyo: Meitoku Shuppansha. Tao, Jianguo 陶建國. 1990. Daoist Thought During the Han and Wei-Jin Dynasties 兩漢魏晉之道 家思想. Taibei: Wenjin. Wang, Baoxuan 王葆玹. 1996. General Survey of Xuanxue 玄學通論. Taibei: Wunan. Wang, Ming 王明. 1996. Collated Annotations on the Inner Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子內篇校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Ware, James R. 1966. Alchemy, Medicine, and Religion in the China of A.D. 320: The Nei P’ien of Ko Hung. Cambridge: MIT Press. Watson, Burton. 2013. The Complete Works of Zhuangzi. New York: Columbia University Press. Yang, Mingzhao 楊明照. 1997. Collated Notes on the Outer Chapters of Baopuzi 抱樸子外篇校箋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Yin, Jizuo 尹继佐 and Zhou Shan 周山, eds. 2006. History of Chinese Ideological Learning 中国学 术思潮史. Shanghai: Shanghai Shehui Kexueyuan Chubanshe. Zhang, Ji. 2012. One and Many: A Comparative Study of Plato’s Philosophy and Daoism Represented by Ge Hong. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Zheng, Canshan 鄭燦山. 2009. A Study of the Daodejing and Daoist Religion in the Eastern Jin and Early Tang Dynasties: A Discussion Regarding the Daodejing and Double Mystery Thought and the Scripture of Great Mystery 東晉唐初道教道德經學: 關於道德經與重玄思想暨太玄部之 討論. Taibei: Taiwan Xuesheng Chubanshe. Gil Raz is Associate Professor at Dartmouth College. He specializes in Chinese religions, with particular interests in Daoism and the interaction between Daoism, popular religious practices, and Buddhism. His book Emergence of Daoism: Creation of Tradition (2012) examines the formation of the Daoist religious tradition between the second and fifth centuries CE. His research interests include Daoist ritual, both historical and contemporary, Daoist sacred geography and mythology, and concepts of the body and sexual practices in Chinese religions. His current research focuses on emergence of Daoist visual and material culture.

Chapter 22

Seeking Immortality in Ge Hong’s Baopuzi Neipian Fabrizio Pregadio

1  Introduction Ge Hong 葛洪 (283–343 CE) is one of the main figures in the history of Daoism. Born near present-day Nanjing into a family of the southern aristocracy, which had provided officials to the state administration for at least ten generations before him, he became a disciple of the Daoist master, Zheng Yin 鄭隱, at the age of fourteen and studied under him for five years. He later served the imperial administration in various capacities. His main work, The Master Who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi 抱朴子), is divided into the twenty Inner Chapters (Neipian 內篇), mainly devoted to discussions of Daoist ideas and practices, and the fifty Outer Chapters (Waipian 外篇), dealing with the “discourses of the literati” (rushuo 儒說). In addition, Ge Hong is ascribed with some sixty works on classical exegesis, dynastic and local history, Daoist thought, alchemy, medicine, numerology, hagiography, and various other subjects. No more than a dozen of these works are extant, and only two of them may indeed have been written by him, namely the Biographies of the Divine Immortals (Shenxian Zhuan 神仙傳) and the medical text, Recipes for Emergencies to Keep at Hand (Zhouhou Beiji fang 肘後備急方).1

 A detailed “chronological biography” (nianpu 年譜) of Ge Hong is found in Chen 1980: 47–94. The autobiography found in the last chapter of the Waipian is also included by Wang Ming 王明 as an appendix to his edition of the Neipian (i.e., Baopuzi Neipian Jiaoshi 抱朴子內篇校釋) which will serve as the base text for this chapter. Translations are found in Ware 1966: 6–21 and Che 1999: 31–51. See also Campany 2002: 13–17, which presents a biography of Ge Hong in the Introduction to his translation of the Shenxian zhuan. On the works attributed to Ge Hong, see Chen 1980: 143–198.

1

F. Pregadio (*) Institute of Sinology Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg Hartmannstr, Erlangen, Germany e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_22

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Although Ge Hong has often been called “the greatest Chinese alchemist” or in similar ways, he states twice in his work that he had never compounded an elixir (Wang 1996: 71, 283; Ware 1966: 70, 262). His figure as an alchemist is largely a creation of Daoist hagiography and was endorsed by Confucian literati. Nonetheless, the Inner Chapters, with which the present chapter is concerned, provides unique insights into the intellectual and religious traditions of Ge Hong’s time. Although he was not a master of any of those traditions—his main concern, as we shall see, was the acceptance of that legacy by other literati— Ge Hong’s account makes the Inner Chapters an essential source for the study of early Daoism, especially due to the background information it provides on several concepts, beliefs, and practices, and to the large number of quotations from early sources, most of which are now lost. The figure at the center of the Inner Chapters is the “immortal” (xian 仙 or xianren 仙人), a term that has multiple connotations in Ge Hong’s usage, ranging from a person who has transcended the limits of human existence to a person who might be more plainly called a “sage.”2 Both of these senses should be taken into account to understand Ge Hong’s views. To appreciate this aspect of his thought, two earlier essays on the Inner Chapters are especially valuable. In a study that goes much beyond the subject announced in its title, Lai Chi-tim has explored the expansion of the range of issues debated by literati after the Han period. Lai calls attention to several points, closely related to one another. The decline of Han dynasty Confucian orthodoxy prompted enquiries “into the transcendent and eternal realm beyond the natural world.” Six Dynasties literati, as a consequence, “became more conscious of enquiring the ground of one’s ‘natural’ self-identity regardless of the existing ‘social’ identity.” As part of this process, literati became increasingly aware of “the issue of the transience of human life” (Lai 1998: 186–192). These issues were actually not only of concern to Confucian literati: they also informed—and paved the way for—the development of intellectual and religious trends within Daoism and Buddhism in Six Dynasties and later times. In fact, one might add a further point to those mentioned by Lai: the same developments resulted in the creation of multiple instances of self-cultivation praxis that are not strictly limited to ethical and moral refinement, but require in addition the performance of practices focused on the mind, the body, or both. Within this broad context, a new view of immortality emerged, which differs from the earlier beliefs in beings who live in far-away paradises, and the cults addressed to them, and instead is “only dependent upon ascetic, mystic, and ethical behavior” (Lai 1998: 199). Lai suggests that Ge Hong takes as his own ideal the so-called “earthly immortal,” a transcendent being who, instead of ascending to heaven, opts for living among fellow human beings. This immortal “is the opposite of the Confucian sage” in the classical sense but, like the Confucian sage, performs a beneficial function within human society (Lai 1998: 210–211). The figure of the “sage” is at the center of another important essay on Ge Hong, which shares several underlying points with Lai’s study despite the different focus. 2  I have opted to translate xian and xianren as “immortal” rather than “transcendent” in this chapter. As we shall see, according to Ge Hong the xian “do not die as ordinary people do.” Whether he understands deathlessness in a physical sense is an issue I discuss below.

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As Michael Puett shows, Ge Hong’s sage is a human being provided with exceptional capabilities (acquired primarily through study) that he uses in order to devise methods through which other people may cultivate themselves. There follows—as we shall see in the first part of this chapter—that in Ge Hong’s view Confucius is not the only sage, and that sagehood cannot be limited to what is written in the Confucian Classics. Ge Hong presents himself as a “new sage,” or rather as “the sage of his day.” He expounds this new view of sagehood in a voluminous work in two parts (the Inner and the Outer Chapters) that attempts to combine aspects of the Confucian heritage with parts of the body of technical traditions that developed during the late Warring States and the Han period. As Puett notes, in expanding the scope of the figure of the sage, Ge Hong’s views bear analogies with those of Wang Chong 王充 (27–97 CE).3 In this chapter, I look at the ways in which Ge Hong frames his discourse on immortality. Taking into account Ge Hong’s intended audience is essential for this task. Ge Hong’s work is not addressed to Daoists, in whatever way they might be defined. The greatest part of the Inner Chapters is framed as a series of imaginary dialogues in which Ge Hong enters into a conversation, with an attitude that is firm, but not polemical, with an “interlocutor” who is, in fact, Ge Hong’s own Confucian alter ego. As we shall see, the key point made by Ge Hong is probably the only angle under which an ordinary Confucian might have accepted his entire discourse: attaining immortality depends on one’s destiny and is ultimately owed to the “mandate of heaven” (tianming 天命). That destiny should be fulfilled, and the teachings and practices concerning immortality are the means to fulfill it. The Inner Chapters is devoted to the illustration of this thesis.4

2  Sagehood, Immortality, and Destiny Ge Hong’s discussion of immortality is tightly integrated with his views of sagehood and destiny: immortality is an aspect of sagehood, and whether one is committed to the search of transcendence uniquely depends on destiny. Before we approach the main subject of this essay, it is important to clarify this aspect of Ge Hong’s thought.

 See Puett 2007, especially pages 102–104 on the figure of the sage, pages 111–12 on the integration of two bodies of knowledge, and pages 109–110 on the analogies with Wang Chong. 4  Except for the final quotation, all translations from the Inner Chapters in this essay are mine. However, I provide references to the complete English translation by James Ware (1966) and (where relevant) to the excellent partial French translation by Philippe Che (1999). In the title of Che’s translation, the “discursive chapters” are those in which Ge Hong focuses on general matters, such as the search of immortality, instead of alchemy, meditation, and other technical subjects. In addition to these translations, and to the studies quoted in the previous footnotes, I have benefited from several other works; in particular, Murakami 1967 and Hu 1989. 3

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According to Ge Hong, there is more than one kind of sage (shengren 聖人). In the main discussion of this subject, his interlocutor challenges him by saying that, if immortality could be attained, all sages would be immortals. The fact that Confucius and the Duke of Zhou were not immortals proves, instead, that immortality is unattainable. Ge Hong responds that not all sages are immortals, and not all immortals are sages in the sense meant by his opponent. Only a few persons would be able to devote themselves at once to the affairs of the world and the search of transcendence. However, he continues, sagehood has different aspects and applications, and the art of government is only one of the skills that qualifies one as a sage. As he shows with several examples, the title “sage” is granted to anyone who excels in a particular domain: history, medicine, divination, painting, sculpture, music, military strategy, and several other pursuits.5 When the interlocutor disagrees with this view, maintaining that sagehood “should embrace all and form a whole,” Ge Hong replies that sagehood, on the contrary, “is divisible” (you poupan 有剖判). He supports this argument with two examples that his opponent could hardly dismiss. In the Mengzi 孟子 we read that each of Confucius’ disciples obtained only one part of the Master’s sagehood. Moreover, the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經) states that sagehood has four different facets: speaking the right words, achieving good results, conforming to models, and producing correct prognostications.6 One may thus be a sage in a particular field of expertise. If this understanding of sagehood is rejected, Ge Hong concludes, then even Confucius and the Duke of Zhou, who were prominent in the art of government but not in other domains, could not be called “sages.”7 Whether one does or does not attain the status of “sage” in any particular pursuit is owed to destiny. Ge Hong maintains that individual fate, including the predestination for immortality, is something received as a “natural endowment” (ziran suo bing 自然所稟) in accordance with the star (or “asterism, constellation,” xiu 宿) under which one is conceived. He illustrates this concept with a quotation from the now-lost Classic of the Jade Seal (Yuqianjing 玉鈐經): A man’s good and bad fortunes take form on the day the embryo is formed and receives its Qi: everyone receives the essence of an asterism above. If one happens to be in conjunction with the sagehood asterism, one becomes a sage; with the worthiness asterism, a worthy man; with the civil asterism, a man of the civil arts; with the military asterism, a man of the military arts; with the honors asterism, an honored man; with the riches asterism, a rich man; with the humbleness asterism, a humble man; with the poverty asterism, a poor man; with the longevity asterism, a man of long life; with the immortality asterism, an immortal.8

 See Wang 1996: 12.224–225; Ware 1966: 200–202; Che 1999: 157–159.  Mengzi, 3.2 (Legge 1895: volume 2: 193); Yijing, “Xici 繫辭” (Appended Sayings), A.IX (Wilhelm 1950: 314). In all four of these actions, according to the “Xici,” one should follow the words and images of the Classic of Changes. 7  See Wang 1996: 12.225–226; Ware 1966: 202–203; Che 1999: 159–160. On this part of Ge Hong’s discourse, see also Lai 1998: 211; Puett 2007: 102–105. 8  The extant text entitled Yuqianjing seems to have little or nothing in common with the work known to Ge Hong. Other quotations from this work, which clearly was quite influential for Ge Hong, are found in Wang 1996: 3.53–54 (see the discussion below) and Wang 1996: 17.301–302; Ware 1966: 284. 5 6

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玉鈐經主命原曰:人之吉凶, 制在結胎受氣之日, 皆上得列宿之精。其值聖宿 則聖, 值賢宿則賢, 值文宿則文, 值武宿則武, 值貴宿則貴, 值富宿則富, 值 賤宿則賤, 值貧宿則貧, 值壽宿則壽, 值仙宿則仙 (Wang 1996: 12.226; Ware 1966: 203–204; Che 1999: 160).

Various mixed destinies can also occur (for instance, being honored but not rich or being rich but not honored), but the main point is that here, according to Ge Hong, lies the meaning of the “mandate of heaven” with regard to individual existence. With another argument that few Confucians could challenge, Ge Hong states that only the mandate of heaven can explain whether one is or is not destined to become an immortal: One who is not fated to become a divine immortal will certainly not have his heart drawn towards immortality. No one has ever sought for such things without having a heart fond of them, and no one has ever found them without seeking. From antiquity down to the present there have been eminent and bright persons who do not believe in the existence of immortality, but there have also been very ordinary persons who attain immortality by study. The former know many things but in some way are blind to immortality; the latter are ignorant of much but have an uncommon understanding of its principles. Could you say that this is not caused by the mandate of heaven?

苟不受神仙之命, 則必無好仙之心, 未有心不好之而求其事者也, 未有不求而 得之者也。自古至今, 有高才明達, 而不信有仙者, 有平平許人學而得仙者, 甲雖多所鑒識而或蔽於仙, 乙則多所不通而偏達其理, 此豈非天命之所使然乎 (Wang 1996: 12.226; Ware 1966: 204; Che 1999: 161).

As understood by Ge Hong, however, heaven does not operate on the basis of deliberate intent or purposive choice. In another dialogue, the interlocutor states: The August Vault, being divinity in its highest form, should be just in the fates it metes out. If ordinary persons such as Wang Qiao and Chisongzi received a long life free from death, why did great sages such as the Duke of Zhou and Confucius fail to receive the favor of “enduring presence”?9

皇穹至神, 賦命宜均, 何為使喬鬆凡人受不死之壽, 而周孔大聖無久視之祚哉 (Wang 1996: 7.136; Ware 1966: 124; Che 1999: 107).

Ge Hong answers with the same concept seen above: the length of life depends on the star under which one is conceived. Then he adds an important detail: Whether one is destined to a long or a short life is actually owed to a conjunction: on receiving qi and taking form as an embryo, everyone is related to an asterism. The Way of heaven does nothing: it leaves everything to the nature of each creature. There is no question of close or distant relationship, and no distinction between “this” and “that” … One’s preferences are determined by one’s endowment; heaven can neither change it nor transform it, neither add to it nor subtract from it.

命之脩短, 實由所值, 受氣結胎, 各有星宿。天道無為, 任物自然, 無親無疏, 無彼無此也 ⋯⋯ 所樂善否, 判於所稟, 移易予奪, 非天所能 (Wang 1996: 7.136;

Ware 1966: 124; Che 1999: 107).

9  Wang Qiao and Chisongzi are two well-known immortals of antiquity. The expression jiushi 久視 “enduring presence” derives from Daodejing 道德經 chapter 59.

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Destiny is thus not due to heaven’s intention: Heaven is an entirely impersonal power that merely oversees the functioning of the coincidental mechanism of “conjunction.” This means that heaven has no preferences and makes no distinctions, and also clarifies the sense of a statement, first found in the Baopuzi among extant texts, that would become a leitmotif in the later Daoist views of fate: “My destiny is in me, it is not in heaven 我命在我不在天” (Wang 1996: 16.287; Ware 1966: 269).10 This destiny is more than a “potential” for immortality, and probably also more than a “vocation” (as Isabelle Robinet called it) to seek immortality: it is an actual endowment with which one is born.11 However, as we shall see, this destiny needs to be fulfilled through the teachings of a master and the performance of adequate practices.

3  Daoism and Confucianism Addressing himself primarily to other literati, Ge Hong is aware that his attempt to make a subject such as the search of immortality admissible in the eyes of a Confucian exposes major points of contention between Confucianism and Daoism. Ge Hong approaches this issue from two main angles: first, Confucius himself acknowledged the primacy of Laozi, and second, one cannot expect that the Confucian Classics cover every dimension of human experience.12 Someone asks, says Ge Hong, why Confucius met Laozi but did not become his disciple.13 In light of what we have seen above, the answer is predictable: one’s qualities determine one’s values, and both depend on “spontaneous destiny” (ziran zhi ming 自然之命). Because of his destiny, Confucius “was only anxious about education (jiaohua 教化) and did not give consideration to the practices (fangshu 方 術)” (Wang 1996: 7.139; Ware 1966: 129; Che 1999: 112). Understanding Confucius’ limitations, Laozi only granted him general advice about self-cultivation: Although Confucius was a sage in the affairs of the world, he could not attain quiescence and silence, integrity and non-doing. Therefore, Laozi admonished him by saying: “A good merchant stores things so deeply that he appears to have nothing, and a noble man with flourishing virtue appears to be a fool. Dispense with your proud airs and many desires, your self-assured appearance and excessive ambitions. None of this will benefit your

 Ge Hong quotes this sentence—which in fact is a line of a poem—from another lost work, the Writ of the Turtle Shell  (Guijia wen 龜甲文) “My destiny is in me, it is not in heaven / the Reverted Elixir (huandan) forms gold, and I live millions of years 我命在我不在天, 還丹成金億萬年.” On the intellectual and historical context of Ge Hong’s view of destiny, see Lo 2010. 11  See Robinet 1997: 88. 12  What I call “Daoism” here and below corresponds to what Ge Hong calls daojia 道家 in chapters 6, 7, 8, 10, 12, 14, 18, and 19 of the Inner Chapters. The term daojiao 道教 does not occur in the Inner Chapters. 13  The main early source for the tales of Confucius’ meetings with Laozi is the Zhuangzi 莊子. As we shall see, however, Ge Hong refrains from quoting this text in his discussion of this subject, and refers instead to a work more suitable to his Confucian opponent. 10

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p­ erson.” This is sufficient to know that Confucius was not devoid of ordinary qualities and was not a man who studied immortality.

仲尼雖聖於世事, 而非能瀋靜玄默, 自守無為者也。故老子戒之曰:良賈深藏 若虛, 君子盛德若愚, 去子之驕氣與多欲, 態色與淫志, 是無益於子之身。此 足以知仲尼不免於俗情, 非學仙之人也 (Wang 1996: 7.139; Ware 1966: 129–130; Che 1999: 112).

Ge Hong carefully avoids quoting any Daoist text about the meeting between Confucius and Laozi, and draws instead Laozi’s advice from his biography in the Shiji 史記.14 Relying on the same source, he points out that Confucius himself acknowledged Laozi’s eminence: After he respectfully asked questions [about the rites] to Boyang (i.e., Laozi), Confucius wanted to compare himself with Old Peng (i.e., Pengzu). Moreover, when he admitted that he knew fish and birds but did not know dragons, and made an analogy between Master Lao and a dragon, this was certainly an expression of his genuine belief, and not a meaningless statement.15

仲尼既敬問伯陽, 願比老彭。又自以知魚鳥而不識龍, 喻老氏於龍, 蓋其心服 之辭, 非空言也 (Wang 1996: 7.138; Ware 1966: 129; Che 1999: 111).

From here, the step to an explicit assertion of the superiority of Daoism over Confucianism is a short one. The interlocutor insists that while Confucius said that everyone must die, Laozi maintained that one can become immortal; this simple fact shows that the sayings of the Daoists are untrustworthy.16 Ge Hong replies by pointing out why people follow Confucius and reject Laozi regarding this and other subjects: the majority complies with the views of Confucius because they are simple; the teachings of Laozi, instead, are difficult and thus few follow them. Yet, Dao is the “source” and Confucianism is a “stream”: Confucianism is simple and easy to grasp, therefore, those who honor it are many. The sense of the Dao is remote and difficult to comprehend, therefore, those who attain to it are few. The Dao is the source of multiplicity; Confucianism is a stream of the Great Irrigator … Why only give importance to Confucius and treat Master Lao lightly? This is like enjoying the flowers on the branches of a tree without knowing that what gives life to them is the root.

儒教近而易見, 故宗之者衆焉。道意遠而難識, 故達之者寡焉。道者, 萬殊之 源也。儒者, 大淳之流也 ⋯⋯ 何獨重仲尼而輕老氏乎?是玩華藻於木末, 而不 識所生之有本也 (Wang 1996: 7.138; Ware 1966: 128; Che 1999: 111).

Facing the straightforward question of which between Confucianism and Daoism is more important, Ge Hong uses again the “root and branch” analogy: Someone asks about the priority between Confucianism and Daoism. I reply: Daoism is the root of Confucianism; Confucianism is a branch of Daoism.

 Shiji, 63.2140. See Csikszentmihalyi 2006: 103.  The episode of the dragon is first reported in chapter 14 of the Zhuangzi, (see Guo 1961: 524–525; Watson 1968: 163), but is also found in the Shiji, 63.2140 (Csikszentmihalyi 2006: 103). For Confucius comparing himself to Pengzu 彭祖, see Lunyu 論語 (Analects), 7.1 (Legge, The Confucian Classics, volume 1: 195). 16  Confucius’ statement is found in Lunyu, 12.7: “From of old, death has been the lot of all men.” See Legge 1893: volume 1: 254. 14 15

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或問儒道之先後。抱朴子答曰:道者, 儒之本也; 儒者, 道之末也 (Wang 1996: 10.184; Ware 1966: 165; Che 1999: 146).

Here again, Ge Hong avails himself of an earlier literatus to support his view: after his reply, he summarizes Sima Tan’s 司馬談 essay on the “six schools” (liujia 六家) in the Shiji, where the “Daoist school” (daojia 道家) is praised as superior to all others, including Confucianism.17 Resorting again to the authority of one of the main Classics, Ge Hong then points out that the Dao is not limited to the arts of “nourishing life” (yangsheng 養生), but is the principle through which the early sages determined the foundations of social and individual life, and of sagehood itself: Can Dao really be nothing more than the pursuit of nourishing life? The Classic of Changes says: “They (i.e., the sages) established the Way (Dao) of heaven, and called it Yin and Yang; they established the Way of Earth, and called it the yielding and the firm; and they established the Way of Man, and called it benevolence and righteousness.” It also says: “In the Changes there are four principles of the sage”; and [it says:] “If you are not the right kind of person, the Way will not manifest itself in vain.”18

夫所謂道, 豈唯養生之事而已乎?易曰:立天之道, 曰陰與陽; 立地之道, 曰柔 與剛; 立人之道, 曰仁與義。又曰:易有聖人之道四焉, 苟非其人, 道不虛行 (Wang 1996: 10.184; Ware 1966: 166; Che 1999: 147).

Then he adds: Nowadays, we only know how to praise the arts of Confucianism, but we ignore that they have taken form from the Dao. The Dao is that through which the hundred schools of thought were molded, the two principles [of Yin and Yang] were cast, the ten thousand species were gestated, and all laws and norms were brewed.

今苟知推崇儒術, 而不知成之者由道。道也者, 所以陶冶百氏, 范鑄二儀, 胞 胎萬類, 醞釀彞倫者也 (Wang 1996: 10.185; Ware 1966: 167; Che 1999: 148).

When the interlocutor objects that Ge Hong’s words are not credible, pointing out, once again, that most famous and eminent men are not immortals, Ge Hong surrenders and replies that he is only “an ordinary person of modest talents” (yongfu jincai 庸夫近才); although he has experienced certain aspects of the Dao, he would not try to convince one who is unable to understand. He adds, however, that it would be impossible to expect that everyone follows the Dao: “There are certain truths that one cannot understand, and certain good words that one cannot practice … If one sees a dragon and calls it a snake, it does not mean that the dragon is devoid of divine qualities” (Wang 1996: 7.140–141 passim; Ware 1966: 131–134; Che 1999: 114–117).

 Shiji, 130.3289. See Roth and Queen 2000: 279 and 281–82. Sima Tan’s essay is likely to describe what in his time was known as Huang-Lao Dao 黃老道. 18  The three passages quoted from the Classic of Changes are found in “Shuogua 說卦” (Explanation of the Trigrams), II, and in “Xici,” A.IX and B.VII (Wilhelm 1950: 264, 314, and 349), respectively. As mentioned above, the “four principles” are the word, the action, the use of tools that are in agreement with proper models, and the ability to predict by divination.

17

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Other statements of Ge Hong on this subject are even more critical towards Confucianism than those reported above.19 What interests us here, however, is a ­different point. The relatively few but (in Ge Hong’s eyes) conclusive instances in which Daoism, the Daoist view of the Dao, and Laozi himself are portrayed in positive ways in works by literati form the basis—in conjunction with his view of destiny—for his discussion of one of the most controversial subjects relevant to the search for immortality. His opponent raises the issue of withdrawal from society, saying that it would not be possible to devote oneself at the same time to human affairs and to the search for immortality. Ge Hong first answers that for a person of great talent it would actually not be difficult to attend to both. In the following passage, he alludes to the analogy between governing the country and governing oneself, a theme prevalent in early Daoism, but not unknown in Confucianism:20 He governs his person and his person endures through time, he governs his country and his country enjoys great peace. He teaches the six Classics to ordinary people, and he transmits the practices to those who are like him.21

治身而身長修, 治國而國太平。以六經訓俗士, 以方術授知音 (Wang 1996: 8.148; Ware 1966: 136; Che 1999: 118).

Most of those who devote themselves to the search of immortality, however, opt for life in retirement: “Each follows his inclinations, and we cannot judge everyone in the same way.”22 His opponent asks who then would take care of the country. Ge Hong cites several examples of persons who were uninterested in honors and favors and did not actively contribute to government and society, but were nevertheless held in high esteem. Since men like those are extremely rare, why should one worry that “the ruler has no ministers?”23 The next objection is that no one should turn their backs to the sovereign in order to search for immortality. Ge Hong counters that if some people withdraw from society, they do not harm the country; and in any case, most of those who withdraw from the world would have no talent for government. In addition, “the rulers who possess Dao are magnanimous and forgiving,” and they allow certain people to live in retirement.24

 For instance: “Confucians love power and advantage, Daoists treasure the absence of desires … Confucians discuss the treatises on [the art of] grinding one another, Daoists practice teachings and precepts to eliminate emotions 儒者所愛者勢利也, 道家所寶者無欲也 ⋯⋯ 儒者所講者, 相研 之簿領也。道家所習者, 遣情之教戒也.” Wang 1996: 10.187–188; Ware 1966: 172; Che 1999: 153. 20  See Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu Gongyang zhuan 春秋 公羊傳), 6.322b: “The kingdom and its ruler form a single body 國君為一體.” 21  According to Ge Hong, those who did so included the Yellow Emperor, Laozi, and Zhuangzi. 22  Wang 1996: 8.149; Ware 1966: 137; Che 1999: 119. 23  Wang 1996: 8.152; Ware 1966: 143–144; Che 1999: 124–126. 24  Wang 1996: 8.152–153; Ware 1966: 144–145; Che 1999: 126–127. 19

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4  The Case of Liu Xiang One further point deserves notice, as it provides a clear example—albeit a negative one—of how the search of immortality is closely related not only to one’s destiny, but also to the requirement of finding a master who provides the means to accomplish that destiny. In the Inner Chapters, Ge Hong mentions several times the case of Liu Xiang 劉向 (77–6  BCE), one of the main Han dynasty literati, but also famous for a failed attempt at producing gold through an alchemical method.25 Ge Hong takes great pains to explain the reason of that failure, in order to prevent Liu Xiang’s lack of success being taken as evidence that the methods for attaining immortality are untrustworthy. “Ordinary people,” he writes, “say that since Liu Xiang did not succeed in making gold (zuo jin 作金), actually there is no such Way anywhere in the world. This would be as if a farmer unable to harvest because of a flood or a drought says that one cannot obtain the five cereals by sowing.”26 Ge Hong first points out that not only Liu Xiang was a learned scholar, but he is also ascribed with the authorship of the Biographies of the Immortals (Liexian zhuan 列仙傳), the earliest known collection of tales on transcendent beings.27 If those beings did not exist, a man of such standing and learning would have not created stories about them: Liu Xiang was most erudite; thus he could investigate the subtle and reach the utmost of the wondrous, go through the deep and walk across the remote. Using his reasoning, he was able to distinguish the true from the false and to establish whether something did or did not exist. In his Biographies of the Immortals he mentions more than seventy immortals. If they actually did not exist, for what reason would he invent them?

劉向博學則究微極妙, 經深涉遠, 思理則清澄真僞, 研覈有無, 其所撰列仙傳, 仙人七十有餘, 誠無其事, 妄造何為乎 (Wang 1996: 2.16; Ware 1966: 41–42; Che 1999: 68–69).

According to Ge Hong, therefore, Liu Xiang should not be deplored simply because he wrote tales about the immortals. The reason why he failed in his alchemical endeavors is a different one: he had not received proper transmission and instructions from a master. In Ge Hong’s view, this is equivalent to saying that Liu Xiang was not destined to become an immortal. He explains Liu Xiang’s failure by saying that he had received from his father an alchemical text supposedly authored by the King of Huainan, Liu An 劉安, when the latter was standing trial for rebellion: Liu Xiang’s father, De, took possession of that text when he was in charge of the case of the King of Huainan; it was not transmitted by a master. Liu Xiang was fundamentally unable to understand the arts of the Way. He happened to catch sight of that text and said that its meaning was entirely written on paper. This is why he did not succeed in making gold.

 See Needham et al. 1974: 13–14 and 35–36.  Wang 1996: 16.284; Ware 1966: 264. 27  Liu Xiang’s authorship of the Liexian zhuan is disputed, but there is no evidence to refute it. See Kaltenmark 1953, which includes a complete translation of the text and discusses the issue of authorship in the introduction. 25 26

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劉向父德治淮南王獄中所得此書, 非為師授也。向本不解道術, 偶偏見此書, 便謂 其意盡在紙上, 是以作金不成耳 (Wang 1996: 2.21–22; Ware 1966: 50–51; Che 1999: 78).

Instead of receiving oral instructions and retiring on a mountain with his helpers in order to compound the elixir, as the alchemical practice requires, Liu Xiang claimed that he could do it at court, following only a written text, with the support of attendants provided by the Emperor, and with no concern for the preliminary purification practices: Some [methods] require oral instructions, and those should only be transmitted by a master. In addition, one should enter the depths of a mountain and stay in a pure and unsoiled area, so that the ordinary foolish people would know nothing about it. Liu Xiang, instead, practiced those methods in the Imperial Palace and allowed the courtiers to attend to his pursuits. Without performing the purification practices, and without breaking off the hustle and bustle of the common human pursuits, how could he ever have succeeded?

其中或有須口訣者, 皆宜師授。又宜入於深山之中, 清潔之地, 不欲令凡俗愚人 知之。而劉向止宮中作之, 使宮人供給其事, 必非齋潔者, 又不能斷絕人事, 使 不來往也, 如此安可得成哉 (Wang 1996: 16.285–286; Ware 1966: 266).

The lack of oral instructions prevented Liu Xiang from understanding the true purport of the alchemical practice: If even some of the common and simple herbs cannot be identified, who may be able to understand the mysterious and secret recipes? It does not surprise, therefore, that Liu Xiang did not succeed in making gold. One who obtains the essentials does not need to worry about sagehood and talent in order to put them in practice: even a common person can do it. Liu Xiang certainly was not a fool; his only fault is that he did not receive the oral instructions.

近易之草, 或有不知, 玄秘之方, 孰能悉解?劉向作金不成, 無可怪之也。及得 其要, 則復不煩聖賢大才而後作也, 凡人可為耳。劉向豈頑人哉, 直坐不得口 訣耳 (Wang 1996: 16.288; Ware 1966: 271).

Despite his erudition and his innate understanding of “the utmost of the wondrous,” Liu Xiang thus ultimately failed only because of the lack of instructions from a master. We shall return to this subject in the next section.

5  Seeking Immortality Seeking immortality is undoubtedly the main theme in the Inner Chapters. This subject is so important for Ge Hong that, in this case, he does not hesitate to denounce not only the “unessential books on Dao” (buyao zhi daoshu 不要之道書) that do not treat it, but even the Daodejing and especially the Zhuangzi 莊子. The Daodejing, which does not share several aspects of Ge Hong’s vision of immortality, “comes from Laozi but only consists of an outline and a brief summary … reciting it without obtaining the essential methods (yaodao 要道) would be nothing but a wasted effort.” Concerning the Zhuangzi, Ge Hong disapproves its judgment that

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life and death are equivalent: this view is “a myriad miles remote from the divine immortals.”28 Just like the Confucian sages, the Daoist immortals as presented by Ge Hong are in the first place ordinary human beings, except that they “they do not die as ordinary people do 不與凡人皆死.”29 When his interlocutor asks whether one should believe that the immortals are truly free from death, Ge Hong replies that the ­metamorphosis from human to immortal is not different from the uncommon instances of transformation that are mentioned in the Liji 禮記 (Record of Rites) and other works by literati: If you say that all beings that receive breath have a fixed form, then what about the pheasant that becomes an oyster, the sparrow that becomes a clam, the earthworm that grows wings, the frog that rises in flight, the oyster that becomes a dragonfly, the lentil that becomes a centipede, the field mouse that becomes a lark, the rotten grass that becomes a glowworm, the crocodile that becomes a tiger, and the snake that becomes a dragon? Would all this be not true? And if you say that, unlike ordinary creatures, humans receive an invariable nature, and that when the August Heaven bestows life there is no change from one thing to another, then what about Niu Ai who became a tiger, the old woman of Chu who became a turtle, Zhi Li who became a willow, the woman of Qin who became a stone, the dead ones who return to life, males and females who change their bodily forms, the longevity of Old Peng, and the early death of those who pass away in their youth? What would the reason be? If differences do occur, then what limit could one set to them?30

若謂受氣皆有一定, 則雉之為蜃, 雀之為蛤, 壤蟲假翼, 川蛙翻飛, 水蠣為蛉, 荇苓為蛆, 田鼠為鴽, 腐草為螢, 鼉之為虎, 蛇之為龍, 皆不然乎。若謂人稟 正性, 不同凡物, 皇天賦命, 無有彼此, 則牛哀成虎, 楚嫗為黿, 枝離為柳, 秦女為石, 死而更生, 男女易形, 老彭之壽, 殤子之夭, 其何故哉?苟有不同, 則其異有何限乎 (Wang 1996: 2.14; Ware 1966: 37; Che 1999: 64–65).

Ge Hong’s argument here is identical to his rationale for the refinement of natural substances into an alchemical elixir: in that case as well, the transmutation is not different from uncommon but nevertheless natural processes of change, of which he provides another series of examples.31 More important, when asked why Confucius and the Duke of Zhou do not mention attaining immortality, Ge Hong replies that this transformation can occur even if it is not discussed in the Classics: “There is no limit to what is not mentioned in the five Classics, and there are many things of which the Duke of Zhou and Confucius do not speak 夫五經所不載者無限矣, 周 孔所不言者不少矣” (Wang 1996: 8.153; Ware 1966: 146; Che 1999: 128). Even an expert in the Classic of Changes would be unable to explain certain events, and this is even more true of the uncommon phenomena documented in different works: “All

 Wang 1996: 8.151; Ware 1966: 141–142; Che 1999: 123–124. Ge Hong also includes the Wenzi 文子 and the Guanyinzi 關尹子 among the texts he criticizes for the same reason. 29  Wang 1996: 2.14; Ware 1966: 37; Che 1999: 65. 30  In their translations, both James Ware and Philippe Che provide references to the sources of most of these statements. For similar passages, see Wang 1996: 3.46 (“there are more than 900 instances of transformations”); Ware 1966: 54; Che 1999: 81, and Wang 1996: 3.52; Ware 1966: 65; Che 1999: 92. On the relation between the acquirement of immortality and transformations that occur in nature, see Lai 1998: 200–201. 31  Wang 1996: 16.284; Ware 1966: 262–263. 28

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of these extraordinary phenomena are counted by the thousands. Can we still say that what is not mentioned in the five Classics and what is not expounded by the Duke of Zhou and Confucius does not exist? 凡此奇事, 蓋以千計, 五經所不載, 周 孔所不說, 可皆復云無是物乎” (Wang 1996: 8.153–155; Ware 1966: 146–150; Che 1999: 128–131).32 One question inevitably arises regarding the view of immortality in the Inner Chapters: does Ge Hong understand immortality as the unending subsistence of one’s physical body? To answer this question, we should first consider that “longevity” is different from “immortality”: the reach of longevity is indefinite rather than unlimited. Yet, Ge Hong’s views remain somewhat ambiguous, especially because he discusses this subject through his own statements, through statements probably (in some cases, explicitly) drawn from other sources, and also through plain hagiographic narratives. For this reason, we may read in one of the Inner Chapters that the transformation from ordinary human to immortal does not involve a change of bodily features: the immortals “have everlasting presence and do not die, but the bodies that they have long had undergo no change (jiushen bu gai 舊身不改).”33 In another chapter, where Ge Hong reports the words of his master, we read instead: Those who, in ancient times, attained immortality would sometimes grow wings and feathers and would transform themselves into flying creatures. Having lost the fundamental human features, they acquired a different bodily form.

古之得仙者, 或身生羽翼, 變化飛行, 失人之本, 更受異形 (Wang 1996: 3.52; Ware 65; Che 1999: 92).

Similarly, in a passage that will be quoted below we read that the highest category of immortals “raise their bodies (juxing 舉形) and ascend to Emptiness.” These words, however, are quoted from an anonymous source, and the only two other occurrences of the expression “raising one’s body” in the Inner Chapters are found in another quotation from a different source and in the title of a now-lost text.34 Despite these and other conflicting statements and unclear points, one detail is significant to answer the question asked above. According to Ge Hong, there is an important difference between those who live in our world and seek immortality, on the one hand, and those who have already attained immortality and temporarily live in our world, on the other. Concerning the latter category of immortals, he writes: In case they are in a playful mood and pass among men, they hide their true nature and conceal their differences. Externally, they are the same as ordinary people: one may be close to them or one step ahead of or behind them, but who could be aware of them? If they had squared eyes like Jiao Jian or ears rising from the top of their heads like Qiong Shu, if they rode a dragon like Ma Huang or drove a white crane like Prince Jin, if they had a scaled  Here Ge Hong gives about five dozen examples, most of which are drawn from the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing 山海經) and the Record of Diverse Things (Bowu Zhi 博物志). In another passage, Ge Hong writes: “What limit can there be to the amazing things that exist in the boundless space between heaven and earth?” See Wang 1996: 2.14; Ware 1966: 38; Che 1999: 65. 33  Wang 1996: 2.14; Ware 1966: 37; Che 1999: 65. 34  Wang 1996: 5.115; Ware 1966: 108; Che 1999: 106. See also Wang 1996: 19.334 which cites the Book of Completing the Way by Raising One’s Body (Juxing Daocheng Jing 舉形道成經). 32

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or snake-like body, a golden chariot, or clothes made of feathers, one could recognize them. Without a profound vision, how could one behold their bodies? Without a penetrating hearing, how could one hear their voices?35

假令游戲, 或經人間, 匿真隱異, 外同凡庸, 比肩接武, 孰有能覺乎?若使皆如 郊閒兩曈之正方, 邛疏之雙耳, 出乎頭巔。馬皇乘龍而行, 子晉躬禦白鶴。或 鱗身蛇軀, 或金車羽服, 乃可得知耳。自不若斯, 則非洞視者安能覿其形, 非 徹聽者安能聞其聲哉 (Wang 1996: 2.15; Ware 1966: 39; Che 1999: 66).

According to this passage, when the immortals spend time in our world, they conceal their true nature and cannot be recognized by ordinary people. This suggests that immortality, for Ge Hong, is not “physical” in a literal sense. The immortals who live in our world are born in it as any ordinary person and are bound to depart from it through death. This, however, is only a transient state: after death, they return to their domain. The case of the seekers of immortality is different. As we have seen, one becomes an immortal by virtue of the destiny received at the time of conception. That destiny should be fulfilled through the performance of suitable practices, which can only be taught by a master. Whether meeting a master is also part of one’s destiny, or depends on one’s resolution to fulfill one’s destiny, is a question that Ge Hong does not approach directly. In a passage of his work, however, he states that such encounter would “definitely” or “necessarily” (bi 必) occur to those who are fated to become immortals: According to the books of the Immortals, all those who attain immortality happen by destiny to be in conjunction with the breath of divine immortality; this is their natural endowment. Therefore, when they are still in the womb, they already harbor by nature their faith in the Dao. When they acquire discernment, they devote themselves to that pursuit, and they will definitely meet a bright master and receive the relevant methods. Otherwise, they will not have faith in it and will not seek, and even if they seek, they will not find it.36

按仙經以為諸得仙者, 皆其受命偶值神仙之氣, 自然所稟。故胞胎之中, 已含 信道之性, 及其有識, 則心好其事, 必遭明師而得其法, 不然, 則不信不求, 求亦不得也 (Wang 1996: 12.226; Ware 1966: 203; Che 1999: 160).

Study under a master is necessary because, while one may be destined from conception to become an immortal, the actual attainment of that state is a process that requires instructions and practices. For this reason, when his interlocutor remarks that the longevity of persons like Pengzu is an entirely “natural” (ziran 自然) phenomenon, and not something “attainable through study” (ke xuede 可學得), Ge Hong strongly disagrees: Concerning Old Peng, we are still dealing with a mere man; his unique longevity did not derive from belonging to a different species, but from having attained the Dao: it was not

35  Qiong Shu, Ma Huang (Mashi Huang 馬師皇), and Prince Jin (Wangzi Qiao 王子喬) have biographies in the Liexian zhuan; see Kaltenmark 1953: 84–85, 47–48, and 109–114, respectively. The reason why the realized persons (zhenren 真人) hide themselves, adds Ge Hong, is that they are unable to bear those do not recognize them as such. 36  The main subject of chapters 14 and 20 is the requirement of finding a master and the need to distinguish between true realized beings and practitioners of limited knowledge.

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“natural” … If you say that they (i.e., those like Old Peng) are all specially endowed with a different breath, their stories all speak of learning from masters and of ingesting [medicines]. It is not innate knowledge.

至於彭老猶是人耳, 非異類而壽獨長者, 由於得道, 非自然也 ⋯⋯ 若謂彼皆 特稟異氣, 然其相傳皆有師奉服食, 非生知也 (Wang 1996: 3.46; Ware 1966: 53–54; Che 1999: 80–81).

Asked again whether anyone in antiquity attained longevity without doing anything about it, Ge Hong replies: No. Some of them followed a bright master, worked hard and practiced diligently, and then were presented with a medicine already compounded. Others received a secret method, and compounded it by themselves.

無也。或隨明師, 積功累勤, 便得賜以合成之藥。或受秘方, 自行治作 (Wang 1996: 13.240–241; Ware 1966: 215).37

Since immortality depends on destiny, the masters transmit the methods only to those who they recognize as bound to become immortals: The Daoists treasure and keep secret the arts of immortality. Among their disciples, they select the very best ones and transmit the essential instructions to them only after a long time of perfectioning. As for the worldly people, who are contented with not having faith and not seeking, why should they make an effort to talk to them about those matters?38

夫道家寶秘仙術, 弟子之中, 尤尚簡擇, 至精彌久, 然後告之以要訣, 況於世 人, 幸自不信不求, 何為當強以語之邪 (Wang 1996: 12.226; Ware 1966: 204–205; Che 1999: 161).

The foot of Mount Taihua 太華, adds Ge Hong, are littered with the bones of those who tried to “enter the mountain” (rushan 入山) without knowing the proper methods, which only the masters can teach (Wang 1996: 17.299; Ware 1966: 279). In the Inner Chapters, Ge Hong briefly describes a threefold categorization of immortals, which became one the models for discussions of this subject in later Daoism: A book of the Immortals says: “Superior persons raise their bodies and ascend to Emptiness; they are called celestial immortals. Median persons roam among illustrious mountains; they are called earthly immortals. Inferior persons first die and then slough off [their corpses]; they are called immortals released from their mortal bodies.” Now, [Li] Shaojun is certainly one who obtained release from his mortal body.

按仙經云, 上士舉形昇虛, 謂之天仙。中士游於名山, 謂之地仙。下士先死後 蛻, 謂之屍解仙。今少君必屍解者也 (Wang 1996: 2.20; Ware 1966: 47; Che 1999: 75).39

 On this subject see Lai 1998: 202 and Puett 2007: 99–101.  As we shall see in a passage quoted below, concerned with a corpus of Daoist texts, “the immortal officers and the accomplished men of antiquity … transmitted them only to those destined to become immortals.” 39  Ge Hong gives a list of the mountains inhabited by the earthly immortals in 4.85 (Ware 1966: 93–94). On this classification of the immortals in the Inner Chapters see Lai 1998: 204–207. On its background and its multiple developments in later Daoism, see Lee 1996. 37 38

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While Ge Hong refers to “release from the mortal body” (shijie 屍解) only once again in the Inner Chapters, the two other degrees of immortality are mentioned more frequently, especially with regard to the benefits of the ingestion of elixirs or other substances.40 Despite its importance, however, this is not Ge Hong’s main theoretical foundation of his discourse on immortality. Ge Hong’s quotation from the anonymous “book of the Immortals” only serves to support his view that Li Shaojun 李少君 (who is associated with the first mention of an alchemical method in China) was an adept of a lower rank; and this, in turn, is part of a lengthy discussion where Ge Hong suggests that rulers should not allow practitioners who vainly promise immortality to surround them, but should instead look for a “bright master” (mingshi 明師).41 Moreover, as we shall presently see, Ge Hong’s own definition of an “earthly immortal” is different from the one given in passage. What is more important for the Ge Hong is a different subdivision of practitioners. Quoting again an unidentified source, he writes: Someone says: “Superior persons attain the Dao in an army; median persons attain the Dao in a city; inferior persons attain the Dao in the mountain forests.” All of them have already formed the medicines of immortality, but they do not yet wish to ascend to heaven. They may be in an army but cannot be harmed by sharp blades, and they may be in a city but cannot be affected by human misfortunes. The inferior persons, instead, have not yet attained this and thus stay in a mountain forest.42

或云:上士得道於三軍, 中士得道於都市, 下士得道於山林, 此皆為仙藥已成, 未欲昇天, 雖在三軍, 而鋒刃不能傷, 雖在都市, 而人禍不能加, 而下士未及 於此, 故止山林耳 (Wang 1996: 10.187; Ware 1966: 171–172; Che 1999: 152).

This threefold categorization is more significant for Ge Hong than the distinction into celestial immortals, earthly immortals, and immortals “released from the mortal body.” As Lai Chi-tim has pointed out, Ge Hong gives does not give prominence to the immortals who “ascend to heaven,” even though this is the highest form of immortality, but to those who opt for staying in the world.43 Having said, as we have seen, that the ancient immortals “would sometimes grow wings and feathers and would transform themselves into flying creatures,” he adds that “this is not the human way” (fei rendao 非人道), and continues by saying: The human way is to eat flavory foods, wear light and warm clothes, conjoin Yin and Yang, and hold official rank; to be keen and sharp of sight and hearing, strong and solid of bones and joints, and pleasant and joyous of countenance; and to grow old without declining, extend the length of life, and stay or go as one likes. Being unaffected by cold, heat, wind,

40  For “release from the mortal body,” see Wang 1996: 9.174; Ware 1966: 159. Several references to the celestial and the earthly immortals are found in chapters 4 and 11. On “release from the mortal body/corpse,” see Robinet 1979 and Cedzich 2001. 41  Wang 1996: 2.17; Ware 1966: 42; Che 1999: 70. On Li Shaojun (fl. ca. 130 BCE) see Needham et al. 1974: 29–33. 42  On “superior,” “median,” and “inferior” practitioners, see also Wang 1996: 4.76; Ware 1966: 80; and Wang 1996: 16.287; Ware 1966: 269. Like the previous one, these passages too derive from other sources. 43  Lai 1998: 207 ff.

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and dampness, being unharmed by demons and spirits, being immune from weapons and poisons, and being uninvolved in joys or worries, praise or blame: this is honorable. Turning one’s back to one’s wife and children, living a solitary life among mountains and marshes, being detached and breaking off from human principles, being solitary in the company of trees and rocks: this is not to be praised.

人道當食甘旨 服輕暖, 通陰陽, 處官秩, 耳目聰明, 骨節堅強, 顏色悅懌, 老 而不衰, 延年久視, 出處任意, 寒溫風濕不能傷, 鬼神衆精不能犯, 五兵百毒 不能中, 憂喜毀譽不為累, 乃為貴耳。若委棄妻子, 獨處山澤, 邈然斷絕人理, 塊然與木石為鄰, 不足多也 (Wang 1996: 3.52–53; Ware 1966: 65; Che 1999: 92).

It is for this reason, says Ge Hong, that some immortals postpone their ascension to heaven by ingesting only half a dose of the elixirs they have compounded. He continues: To be plain, those who seek a long life just cherish the objects of their present desires. Fundamentally, they are not anxious to ascend to emptiness and do not think that rising in flight is superior to staying on the earth. If, by a fortunate chance, they can stay at home and be free from death, why should they seek to rise rapidly to heaven?

篤而論之, 求長生者, 正惜今日之所欲耳, 本不汲汲於昇虛, 以飛騰為勝於地 上也。若幸可止家而不死者, 亦何必求於速登天乎 (Wang 1996: 3.53; Ware 1966: 66; Che 1999: 92).

“Superior persons” (shangshi 上士), adds Ge Hong, do not wish to leave the world and have no hurry to ascend to heaven. Like Laozi and Pengzu did before them, they rather prefer to “be earthly immortals for a time among other humans.”44

6  Ethics and Self-Cultivation In another dialogue, the interlocutor asks Ge Hong whether those who practice the Way should first acquire merit. Ge Hong replies that not only this is true, but acquiring merit is the main means of preserving the original endowment with which each individual is provided. He explains this principle by again resorting to the authority of the Yuqianjing 玉鈐經: The second part of the Yuqianjing says: Establishing merit is most important, and removing one’s faults comes next. For those who practice the Way, saving people from dangers so that they can avoid disasters, protecting them from illness and making sure that they do not die an unjust death: these are the highest merits.

按玉鈐經中篇云, 立功為上, 除過次之。為道者以救人危使免禍, 護人疾病, 令不枉死, 為上功也 (Wang 1996: 3.53; Ware 1966: 66; Che 1999: 93).

A virtuous conduct is as necessary to attain immortality as the performance of self-­ cultivation practices. One’s behavior, in particular, should comply with essential ethical principles, not in the least different from those endorsed by Confucianism. Failure to do so results in the shortening of one’s life span, and eventually in early death. Ge Hong’s quotation of the Yuqianjing continues as follows: 44

 Wang 1996: 14.254; Ware 1966: 230.

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Those who seek immortality should take loyalty, filial piety, harmony, compliance, benevolence, and trustworthiness as the fundament. If they do not cultivate a virtuous conduct and only engage themselves in the practices, they will not attain a long life. If one performs a major bad action, the Administrator of Destinies will detract one period, and for a minor wrong, he will detract one count [from their life spans]. The detraction depends on the seriousness of the violation.

欲求仙者, 要當以忠孝和順仁信為本。若德行不修, 而但務方術, 皆不得長生 也。行惡事大者, 司命奪紀, 小過奪算, 隨所犯輕重, 故所奪有多少也 (Wang 1996: 3.53; Ware 1966: 66; Che 1999: 93).

The system of “counting destiny” (suanming 算命) alluded to in this passage is quite simple. At least in part, it is once again dependent on one’s natal destiny. At conception, everyone receives a “personal cipher” (benshu 本數), which differs for each individual and determines his or her length of life. Detractions from this endowment are quantified on the basis of two units, called the “period” (ji 紀) and the “count” (suan 算): The destiny and life span that everyone receives depends on the personal cipher. If the cipher is large, then periods and counts will hardly exhaust it and one will die at an old age. If it is small and one commits many violations, then periods and counts will quickly exhaust it and one will die at an early age.

凡人之受命得壽, 自有本數, 數本多者, 則紀算難盡而遲死, 若所稟本少, 而 所犯者多, 則紀算速盡而早死 (Wang 1996: 3.53; Ware 1966: 66; Che 1999: 93).

The precise amount of life-time detracted by the Administrator of Destinies (Siming 司命) depends on the seriousness of the fault. For major or minor faults, one “period” or one “count,” respectively, are subtracted from one’s life span, corresponding to 300 days or 3 days.45 The detraction occurs when the God of the Hearth (Caoshen 竃神) and the Three Corpses (sanshi 三尸) ascend to heaven, the former every thirty and the latter every sixty days, and report one’s misdeeds to the Administrator of Destinies. Ge Hong describes the Three Corpses as something “not provided with form, but having actuality” (wuxing er shi 無形而實), analogous to “the hun-souls and the spirits” (hunling guishen 魂靈鬼神). He adds that while he is unable to judge whether all of this is true, “the Way of heaven is distant and remote, and the spirits (guishen) are difficult to understand.”46

45  Wang 1996: 6.125; Ware 1966: 115. In an editorial note, Wang Ming provides good reasons to assume that “3 days” is an error for “100 days” (Wang 1996: 6.132n28). 46  Wang 1996: 6.125; Ware 1966: 115. On “counting destiny” in the Inner Chapters see Lai 1998: 92–94. In the passages quoted above, Ge Hong describes the shortening of life span as exclusively due to moral faults and bad deeds, without following the earlier view of the “inherited burden” (chengfu 承負) expounded in the Classic of Great Peace (Taipingjing 太平經). However, he briefly mentions a similar view in his discussion of the “personal cipher,” where he says: “If someone commits suicide before their counts and periods are finished, the calamities will reach their sons and grandsons. Everyone who abuses or takes away by force someone else’s goods will cause his wife, children, and household to be included in the deduction. They will also encounter death, but this will not occur immediately.” Wang 1996: 6.126; Ware 1966: 115. On the “inherited burden” see Hendrischke 1991 and Maeda 2006 (where this passage is discussed on page 108).

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The emphasis placed on the requirement of ethical conduct and virtuous behavior for attaining immortality can be read as yet another attempt to make the concept of “seeking immortality” acceptable to Ge Hong’s Confucian readers. At the same time, the system he describes is also an elementary and early example of the Daoist concept of “changing destiny.”47 Here, however, lies what appears to be another unclear point in Ge Hong’s thought. How could one change one’s destiny—or at least take control of it, avoiding that one’s life span is decreased—if one’s existence is determined by the star under which one is born? Ge Hong does not provide clues to answer this question, which becomes important when we consider that one’s good deeds may also determine a higher or lower rank in the hierarchies of the immortals: [The Yuqianjing] also says: Those wishing to become earthly immortals should establish 300 good deeds. Those wishing to become celestial immortals should establish 1,200 good deeds. If, after performing 1,199 good deeds, one negligently commits a single bad deed, all the good ones previously performed are lost and one must begin anew.48

又云, 人欲地仙, 當立三百善; 欲天仙, 立千二百善。若有千一百九十九善, 而忽復中行一惡, 則盡失前善, 乃當復更起善數耳 (Wang 1996: 3.53; Ware 1966: 66–67; Che 1999: 93).

The contradiction, in fact, may not be owed to Ge Hong himself, but to his source, the Yuqianjing, which continues as follows: If the accumulation of good deeds is not complete, one can ingest the medicines of immortality but this will be of no advantage. If one does not ingest the medicines of immortality but performs good actions, one will not attain immortality but will be able to avoid the calamity of a sudden death.

又云, 積善事未滿, 雖服仙藥, 亦無益也。若不服仙藥, 並行好事, 雖未便得 仙, 亦可無卒死之禍矣 (Wang 1996: 3.53–54; Ware 1966: 67; Che 1999: 94).

This passage appears to be at odds with the one discussed earlier (“a man’s good and bad fortunes take form on the day the embryo is formed”). Be that as it may, Ge Hong does not elaborate further, but concludes with an interesting remark: it was probably because Pengzu 彭祖 did not acquire enough merit that he was unable to ascend to heaven and was instead bound to live eight or nine centuries as an earthly immortal.49

47  See Kohn 1998, and for the adoption of the suanming system in an early Tianshi dao 天師道 text, Kleeman 2016: 148–155. 48  On this passage, see Kohn 1998: 863–864. 49  Wang 1996: 3.54; Ware 1966: 67; Che 1999: 94. Ge Hong also reports a different reason— Pengzu preferred to stay on earth because too many immortals were competing for the higher positions in heaven—but appears to prefer his own explanation. See Wang 1996: 3.52; Ware 1966: 65; Che 1999: 91.

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7  A Miscellany of Practices In addition to the primary ethical requirements, Ge Hong repeatedly mentions different practices that he defines as the “foundation” (ben 本) or the “essential” (yao 要) of self-cultivation. The “medicines” (yao 藥, by which he means the alchemical elixirs) are, in his view, the foundation of longevity and immortality, but one may obtain faster results when the circulation of breath (xingqi 行氣) is also practiced. If the “medicines” are beyond reach, one can attain a long life by practicing breathing methods, providing that one understands their principles; through them, one can also heal illnesses and gain protection from calamities and demonic entities. In addition, one should know the sexual practices in order to preserve one’s essence (jing 精).50 An analogous list of methods is found in another discussion, where Ge Hong intends to demonstrate that self-cultivation does not necessarily demand withdrawal from the world: If one wishes to seek divine immortality, it is sufficient to acquire the essential. The essential lies in treasuring one’s essence, circulating breath, and ingesting the great medicines: this is sufficient, and one does not need more than that.51

欲求神仙, 唯當得其至要, 至要者在於寶精行炁, 服一大藥便足, 亦不用多也 (Wang 1996: 8.149; Ware 1966: 138; Che 1999: 120).

In a further conversation, Ge Hong is asked why some persons know nothing about the esoteric arts and yet live a long life. He replies that those people either have hidden virtues, or are destined to live long, or simply “escape by fortunate chance (xing er ou’er 幸而偶爾) misfortune and accidents,” like birds and animals that are spared by a hunting party or plants and trees that survive a major fire. This time he continues with a different list of “essentials”: In order to protect oneself and avert harms, the essential lies in abiding by the protections and interdictions (fangjin 防禁) to preserve one’s bodily form, and in carrying upon oneself talismans and swords inscribed with celestial writings. Ceremonies and prayers are useless: one should rely on one’s own invulnerability and not on the leniency of the spirits. Even though meditating on the Mystery (xuan 玄) and holding the One, or maintaining the [divine] effulgences and embracing them in one’s person can ward off evil and clear the inauspicious, they cannot prolong one’s life or eliminate the body’s illnesses.52

要於防身卻害, 當修守形之防禁, 佩天文之符劍耳。祭禱之事無益也, 當恃我 之不可侵也, 無恃鬼神之不侵我也。然思玄執一, 含景環身, 可以辟邪惡, 度 不祥, 而不能延壽命, 消體疾也 (Wang 1996: 9.176–177; Ware 1966: 164; Che 1999: 144–145).

One may easily be puzzled by these contrasting enumerations of “essentials” and even more so by the bewildering variety of methods, techniques, and  Wang 1996: 5.114; Ware 1966: 105; Che 1999: 102–103. This is followed by examples of the medical and apotropaic virtues of breath (qi). 51  This passage too is followed by a description of the features and benefits of breathing and sexual practices. 52  The “effulgences” (jing 景) are the inner deities. 50

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practices—physical, meditational, alchemical, and ritual—that Ge Hong mentions or describes in his Inner Chapters. Some chapters are entirely or mostly devoted to particular subjects, such as alchemy (chapters 4 and 16), “immortality drugs” (xianyao 仙藥, chapter 11), and meditation (chapter 18). Two other chapters (5 and 17) are veritable patchworks of assorted methods. A tentative classification of these techniques, which is far from exhausting the whole repertoire, might include the following: 1. Physiological practices, including different breathing methods (among them, the use of breath to cast apotropaic and therapeutic spells); daoyin 導引; abstention from cereals (bigu 辟穀) and other dietary regimes; and sexual practices.53 2. Talismans (fu 符), seals (yin 印), spells (zhu 祝), and the use of mirrors to summon deities and detect demons.54 3. Methods for “invisibility,” including several instances of the dunjia 遁甲 (Hidden Stem) method.55 4. The ritual pace known as “steps of Yu” (Yu bu 禹步), used as part of the dunjia practices and for collecting the zhi 芝 plants of immortality.56 5. Methods for avoiding cold and heat, for “soaring up in flight” (chengqiao 乘蹻), and for walking on the water or staying under water.57 6. Meditation practices for “visionary divination.”58 It is worthwhile to remind that none of these methods is Ge Hong’s own creation. Some of them, he says, were transmitted to him by his master.59 Concerning others he states that they derive from notes taken from earlier works; this is the case, in particular, of the remarkable collection of methods for “invisibility” and of one of

53  On breathing, see Wang 1996: 5.114–115; Ware 1966: 105–107; Che 1999: 103–105, and Wang 1996: 8.149–150; Ware 1966: 138–139; Che 1999: 120–122. Concerning the first passage, see the remarks in Harper 1998: 175–177. Daoyin is often mentioned in passing, e.g., Wang 1996: 15.274; Ware 1966: 257, where this practice is suggested as a therapy for hearing disorders. The daoyin practices mentioned by Ge Hong always consist in imitating movements of animals; on these and related techniques, see Despeux 1989. On diets, see Wang 1996: 15.266–269; Ware 1966: 243–249. On sexual practices, see Wang 1996: 8.150; Ware 1966: 140–141; Che 1999: 122–123. 54  On talismans and seals, see Wang 1996: 17.308–312; Ware 1966: 295–297, and the list of talismans in Wang 1996: 19.335–336; Ware 1966: 313 and 384–385. Spells are found, e.g., in Wang 1996: 17.303; Ware 1966: 287, Wang 1996: 17.307; Ware 1966: 294, and Wang 1996: 17.313; Ware 1966: 299–300. On mirrors, see Wang 1996: 15.273–274; Ware 1966: 253–254 (for summoning deities), and Wang 1996: 17.300; Ware 1966: 281–282 (for detecting demons). 55  Wang 1996: 15.270–271; Ware 1966: 251, and Wang 1996: 17.301–302; Ware 1966: 284–286. 56  Wang 1996: 11.209; Ware 1966: 198, and Wang 1996: 17.302–303; Ware 1966: 286. 57  Wang 1996: 15.269; Ware 1966: 249, Wang 1996: 15.275; Ware 1966: 258–259, and Wang 1996: 17.312; Ware 1966: 297, respectively. 58  Wang 1996: 15.272–274; Ware 1966: 254–257. On these and analogous methods described in later Daoist sources, see Andersen 1994. 59  Wang 1996: 8.150; Ware 1966: 140–141; Che 1999: 122–123, and Wang 1996: 17.301; Ware 1966: 282.

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the sets of alchemical recipes.60 In addition, a large number of methods are certainly copied or summarized from texts that Ge Hong, unfortunately, quotes in most cases without precise attribution. Also important is the fact is that Ge Hong does not equally endorse all these methods. In fact, he is critical or skeptical about the proclaimed virtues of some of them, and refrains from judging certain others. On the abstention from cereals he says: The books on the Dao … [say that] those who ingest cereals may be wise but are not longevous, while those who ingest breath obtain spirit illumination and do not die. This is only a biased discourse of the schools of the “circulation of breath.”

道書 ⋯⋯ 食穀者智而不壽, 食氣者神明不死。此乃行氣者一家之偏說耳 (Wang 1996: 15.266; Ware 1966: 244).

He also rejects the claim that sexual practices grant mundane benefits, such as “rising high in office” and “doubling profits in business”: This is all erroneous talk found in the writings of spirit mediums and the fantasies of wicked people; it derives from the embellishments of dabblers and entirely belies the facts.

此皆巫書妖妄過差之言, 由於好事增加潤色, 至令失實 (Wang 1996: 6.128–129; Ware 1966: 122).

On invisibility he says: There are five divine methods [for this], including one for “sitting and then rising up and disappear.” However, they are of no benefit for longevity.

神道有五, 坐在立亡其數焉。然無益於年命之事 (Wang 1996: 15.270; Ware 1966: 251).

As we have seen, Ge Hong also leaves open the question of whether the methods for “counting destiny” are entirely reliable. Similarly, on the hemerologic calculations for “entering the mountain” he writes: The conditions of heaven and earth, the good and bad luck depending on Yin and Yang, are so limitless that one can hardly examine them in detail. I do not say with certainty that these things exist, but I dare not maintain that they do not exist.

天地之情狀, 陰陽之吉凶, 茫茫乎其亦難詳也, 吾亦不必謂之有, 又亦不敢保其 無也 (Wang 1996: 17.301; Ware 1966: 283–284).

As we shall see in the next sections, when Ge Hong’s statements about the methods he describes are read in relation to one another, his views become clearer. In light of what we have seen above, moreover, it becomes apparent that, in writing these portions of the Inner Chapters, Ge Hong intends to provide his fellow literati with an overview of the self-cultivation practices of this time, pointing out the respective virtues in connection with his main subject: the search of immortality.

60

 See Wang 1996: 17.302; Ware 1966: 284, and Wang 1996: 16.284; Ware 1966: 262, respectively.

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8  The Minor Arts Despite the lack of a clear structure in his work, Ge Hong draws an invaluable picture of the southeastern traditions of his time.61 At the lower end of those traditions, Ge Hong places a broad group of practitioners whom he calls “coarse and rustic” (zawei 雜猥). Ge Hong associates them with the “minor arts” (xiaoshu 小術), which in his view include healing methods, longevity techniques, and certain divination practices: It is clear that if the present-day coarse and rustic practitioners do not obtain the methods of the Golden Elixir, they will not obtain a long life. They may be able to heal illnesses and bring a dead person to life, to abstain from cereals and be free from hunger for several years, to command gods and demons, to be sitting at one moment and then suddenly disappear, to see one thousand miles away, to know the rise and fall of any person, to reveal the disasters concealed in what is obscure and hidden, and to know the fortunes and calamities awaiting what has not yet sprouted. All this, however, will be of no advantage to increase the length of their life.

今雜猥道士之輩, 不得金丹大法, 必不得長生可知也。雖治病有起死之效, 絕 穀則積年不飢, 役使鬼神, 坐在立亡, 瞻視千里, 知人盛衰, 發瀋祟於幽翳, 知禍福於未萌, 猶無益於年命也 (Wang 1996: 14.259; Ware 1966: 240).

Ge Hong deems the “minor arts” inadequate to avoid harms caused by demons and spirits. Herbal drugs, in particular, can only prolong one’s life. Unlike alchemy, meditation, the use of talismans, and the observance of interdictions and precepts, they can help one to heal from “internal ailments” (neiji 內疾), but cannot prevent harms caused by malevolent entities: Those who do not obtain the Golden Elixir, and only ingest medicines of herbs and plants and practice the minor arts, can extend the number of years and defer the time of death, but cannot obtain immortality. Some only know how to ingest herbal medicines, but ignore the essential arts for inverting the course of aging: they entirely lack the principle of long life. Others do not understand how to wear the divine talismans at their belt, how to observe interdictions and precepts, how to meditate on the deities within themselves, and how to guard the True One: they can merely prevent internal ailments from arising and wind and humidity from hurting them. If a noxious demon, a powerful evil entity, a mountain sprite, or a poison in the water suddenly harms them, they are dead. Some do not obtain the methods to enter the mountains and let the mountain deities bring calamities to them. Goblins and demons will put them to test, wild animals will wound them, poisons from pools will hit them, and snakes will bite them. There will be not one, but many prospects of death.

不得金丹, 但服草木之藥及修小術者, 可以延年遲死耳, 不得仙也。或但知服 草藥, 而不知還年之要術, 則終無久生之理也。或不曉帶神符, 行禁戒, 思身 神, 守真一, 則止可令內疾不起, 風濕不犯耳。若卒有惡鬼強邪, 山精水毒害 之, 則便死也。或不得入山之法, 令山神為之作禍, 則妖鬼試之, 猛獸傷之, 溪毒擊之, 蛇蝮螫之, 致多死事, 非一條也 (Wang 1996: 13.243; Ware 1966: 219).

 This and the next two sections of this essay are based in part on Pregadio 2005, chapter 7 (“Gods, Demons, and Elixir: Alchemy in Fourth-Century Jiangnan”).

61

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At best, says Ge Hong, some of the “minor arts” may serve as preliminary to the compounding of elixirs. If they are practiced with the ingestion of the “minor medicines” (xiaoyao 小藥), they allow one to live longer. After that, “one can gradually climb to the Subtle” (jianjie jingwei 漸階精微).62

9  Nourishing Life A similar attitude is apparent in statements concerning the practices of “nourishing life” (yangsheng 養生), which according to Ge Hong include, in addition to the ingestion of herbal drugs, breathing, daoyin, and sexual techniques. As we have seen, Ge Hong’s view of these disciplines is condensed in a question: “Can the Dao really be nothing more than the pursuit of nourishing life?” Accordingly, he qualifies these techniques as inferior or ancillary to the ingestion of elixirs, as they merely grant freedom from illness: Those who fully understand the principles of nourishing life ingest the divine medicines. In addition, they circulate their breath without negligence, and they practice daoyin from morning to evening so that their constructive and defensive [breaths] operate without obstructions. Moreover, they practice the arts of the bedchamber, moderate their food and drinks, do not expose themselves to wind and humidity, and do not grieve about what they cannot do. Thus, they can be without illnesses.63

養生之盡理者, 既將服神藥,又行氣不懈, 朝夕導引, 以宣動榮衛, 使無輟閡, 加之以房中之術, 節量飲食, 不犯風濕, 不患所不能, 如此可以不病 (Wang 1996: 15.271; Ware 1966: 252).

The main object of Ge Hong’s criticism is the belief that one can practice those techniques as the sole way to attain immortality: In everything pertaining to nourishing life, one should listen much but incorporate the essential, look wide but choose the best. One cannot rely on one’s bias to a single practice. Moreover, the danger is that those who devote themselves to one of these practices trust only their discipline of choice. Those who know the arts of the Mysterious Woman and the Pure Woman say that one can transcend the world only through the arts of the bedchamber. Those who are expert in “exhaling [the old] and inhaling [the new breath]” say that one can extend the number of years only through the circulation of breath. Those who know the methods for bending and stretching say that one can avoid aging only through daoyin. Those who know the methods based on herbs and plants say that one can surpass any limit only through medicines and pills. When the study of the Dao does not bear fruit, it is because of biases like these.

凡養生者, 欲令多聞而體要, 博見而善擇, 偏修一事, 不足必賴也。又患好事 之徒, 各仗其所長, 知玄素之術者, 則曰唯房中之術, 可以度世矣; 明吐納之 道者, 則曰唯行氣可以延年矣; 知屈伸之法者, 則曰唯導引可以難老矣; 知草 木之方者, 則曰唯藥餌可以無窮矣; 學道之不成就, 由乎偏枯之若此也 (Wang 1996: 6.124; Ware 1966: 113–114).  Wang 1996: 13.252; Ware 1966: 112.  The “constructive breath” (yingqi 榮氣) circulates within the system of the conduits and nourishes the whole body. The “defensive breath” (weiqi 衛氣) circulates between the skin and the flesh, and protects from illnesses and other disturbances. 62 63

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A clear example of Ge Hong’s views on “nourishing life” is his evaluation of the sexual practices, whose benefits do not exceed those of the “minor arts”: Among the arts of Yin and Yang (i.e., the sexual practices), the best ones can heal the lesser illnesses, and the next ones help one avoid becoming depleted. Since their principles have inherent limits, how could they confer divine immortality, prevent calamities, and bring about happiness?”

夫陰陽之術, 高可以治小疾, 次可以免虛耗而已。其理自有極, 安能致神仙而 卻禍致福乎 (Wang 1996: 6.129; Ware 1966: 122).

Ge Hong then points out that the Yellow Emperor, who is associated with both alchemy and the sexual techniques, attained immortality through the former and not the latter: … the common people hear that the Yellow Emperor rose to heaven with 1,200 women, and say that he obtained longevity only thanks to this. They do not know that the Yellow Emperor compounded the Nine Elixirs on Lake Ding at the foot of Mount Jing, and then rose to heaven by riding a dragon. He may have had 1,200 women, but it was not for this reason that he managed to do it.

而俗人聞黃帝以千二百女昇天, 便謂黃帝單以此事致長生, 而不知黃帝於荊山 之下, 鼎湖之上, 飛九丹成, 乃乘龍登天也。黃帝自可有千二百女耳, 而非單 行之所由也 (Wang 1996: 6.129; Ware 1966: 122–123).

Like the ingestion of herbal drugs, therefore, this and the other techniques of “nourishing life” do afford benefits, but they are not the same as those that only meditation and alchemy can grant.

10  Meditation and Alchemy Ge Hong states that the higher religious traditions of Jiangnan were incorporated into three different textual bodies. The first consisted of scriptures based on talismans, mainly represented by the Writ of the Three Sovereigns (Sanhuang Wen 三皇文) and the Charts of the True Forms of the Five Peaks (Wuyue Zhenxing Tu 五岳真形圖): I heard my master Zheng [Yin] say that among the important writings on the Dao none surpasses the Inner Writ of the Three Sovereigns and the Charts of the True Forms of the Five Peaks. The immortal officers and the accomplished men of antiquity venerated the methods expounded in these writings, considered them to be secret, and transmitted them only to those destined to become immortals. They handed them down only once in forty years, after one made an oath by smearing one’s mouth with blood and established a bond by offering gifts [to one’s master].

余聞鄭君言, 道書之重者, 莫過於三皇內文五岳真形圖也。古人仙官至人, 尊 秘此道, 非有仙名者, 不可授也。受之四十年一傳, 傳之歃血而盟, 委質為約 (Wang 1996: 19.336; Ware 1966: 314).

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Owning the Sanhuang Wen, or merely holding it in one’s hands, offered protection against assaults of demons, dangers brought by external forces, and even death.64 One could also use both texts to summon deities that would appear under a human shape, “and one will be able to question them on good and bad fortune, on safe and dangerous things, and on the detrimental or harmless course of illnesses.” These powers derive from the powerful talismans on which the Three Sovereigns and the True Forms were based. However, despite their prodigious apotropaic and mantic powers, the Writ of the Three Sovereigns and the Charts of the Five Peaks do not suffice to grant immortality. That faculty is only possessed by meditation and alchemy, which Ge Hong deems to be the highest self-cultivation practices. In his view, alchemy and meditation enable one not only to communicate with the gods and expel the noxious spirits, but also to obtain transcendence. The most important meditation practice is the method of “guarding the One,” which consists in visualizing the deity that represent Unity in its multiple residences within the human body.65 This passage is well known but deserves to be quoted here: The One has surnames and names, as well as clothes and colors. In men it is nine-tenths of an inch tall, in women six-tenths of an inch. Sometimes it is in the lower Cinnabar Field, two inches and four-tenths below the navel. Sometimes it is in the middle Cinnabar Field, which is the Golden Portal of the Crimson Palace below the heart. Sometimes it is in the space between the eyebrows: one inch behind them is the Hall of Light, two inches is the Cavern Chamber, and three inches is the upper Cinnabar Field. This is deemed to be extremely important within the lineages of the Way. From generation to generation, they orally transmit the surnames and names [of the inner gods] after smearing their mouths with blood.

一有姓字服色, 男長九分, 女長六分, 或在臍下二寸四分下丹田中, 或在心下 絳宮金闕中丹田也, 或在人兩眉閒, 卻行一寸為明堂, 二寸為洞房, 三寸為上 丹田也。此乃是道家所重, 世世歃血口傳其姓名耳 (Wang 1996: 18.323; Ware 1966: 302).

On the one hand, the practice of “guarding the One” give access to the divine world: “If you guard the One and preserve the true (cunzhen 存真), you will be able to communicate with the gods.”66 On the other hand, this practice grants protection against demons and other ominous entities: When you are in the shrine of a demon, in a mountain forest, in a land infested by a plague, within a tomb, in a marsh inhabited by tigers and wolves, or in the dwelling of snakes, if you guard the One without distraction all evils will be expelled; but if you forget to guard the One even for an instant, the demons will harm you.

若在鬼廟之中, 山林之下, 大疫之地, 冢墓之閒, 虎狼之藪, 蛇蝮之處, 守一 不怠, 衆惡遠迸。若忽偶忘守一, 而為百鬼所害 (Wang 1996: 18.325; Ware 1966: 305).

Alchemical elixirs, instead, are superior to herbal drugs: while the “medicines of herbs and plants” can only heal illnesses and grant a long life, ingesting the elixirs

 Wang 1996: 19.336; Ware 1966: 314–315.  Wang 1996: 18.324; Ware 1966: 303. 66  Wang 1996: 18.324; Ware 1966: 303. 64 65

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enables an adept to obtain immortality, communicate with the gods, and expel dangerous spirits. Even the lowest of the minor elixirs is by far superior to the highest among herbs and plants. If any herb or plant is placed on a fire it burns away. Instead, if cinnabar is placed on a fire it produces quicksilver, and after repeated transmutations it reverts to cinnabar. It is by far superior to any herb or plant and thus can make one live long. Only the divine immortals see this principle.

然小丹之下者, 猶自遠勝草木之上者也。凡草木燒之即燼, 而丹砂燒之成水 銀, 積變又還成丹砂, 其去凡草木亦遠矣。故能令人長生, 神仙獨見此理矣 (Wang 1996: 4.72; Ware 1966: 72).

11  Conclusion The description of practices, of which I could provide here only a very cursory account, is probably the most visible feature of the Inner Chapters. For this reason, this work “is so often used as an anthology of the religious practices of the day.”67 Those passages recover the sense that their author gave to them only when they are read in conjunction with what Philippe Che has called “the discursive chapters” of Ge Hong’s work: certain exceptional persons are born with the predestination to immortality, but that predestination must be fulfilled, and that is the purpose of the practices. Beyond this, as I mentioned at the beginning, Ge Hong is one of the Six Dynasties literati and thinkers who attempted, in different ways, to broaden the scope of Confucianism. Ge Hong is probably unique among them as he, in trying to push the borders of Confucianism to their limit, effectively goes much beyond them. His intention is made clear by two of the passages quoted in this essay. In one of them, Ge Hong states: “There is no limit to what is not mentioned in the five Classics, and there are many things of which the Duke of Zhou and Confucius do not speak.” In the other one, he writes: “Can we still say that what is not mentioned in the five Classics and what is not expounded by the Duke of Zhou and Confucius does not exist?” There is also a social aspect in Ge Hong’s ideal of immortality, which in this passage, quoted in James Ware’s translation, leads him to utter a bitter condemnation of a government that disregards the principles he was trying to expound: Methods leading to immortality call for us to extend our love to the very frontiers of the universe and to view others as we do ourselves; but the prince absorbs the weak, attacks the ignorant, capitalizes on disorder, and spreads devastation. He opens new lands and extends frontiers. He destroys man’s shrines. He herds the living and orders them into the valley of death. Their end is as forsaken wraiths in remote lands, bleached bones befouling the fields. On the Five Peaks he stations hosts with bloody blades; from the north gate of the palace hang Ferganese heads. In one instant, those buried alive and the slain captives amounted to

67

 Puett 2007: 96.

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tens of thousands. Mounds of corpses pile up to the clouds; bleaching bones, thick as grass, form whole mountains and fill the valleys.68

仙法欲溥愛八荒, 視人如己, 而人君兼弱攻昧, 取亂推亡, 闢地拓疆, 泯人社 稷, 駈合生人, 投之死地, 孤魂絕域, 暴骸腐野, 五嶺有血刃之師, 北闕懸大 宛之首, 坑生煞伏, 動數十萬, 京觀封尸, 仰干雲霄, 暴骸如莽, 彌山填谷 (Wang 1996: 2.18; Ware 1966: 44; Che 1999: 71–72).

Did Ge Hong succeed in his purpose? Although his discourse on immortality is “essentially a representation and product of an intellectual attempt sought by a particular class of literati”,69 Confucian thinkers and literati never fully accepted Ge Hong’s views. They did read, edit, and publish his work, but Ge Hong was for them only one of the few “Daoist” authors who deserved to be read in order to learn something about what Daoism was in contemporary or ancient times. Within Daoism, Ge Hong is certainly acknowledged as a major figure. But as Michael Puett has noted, only a few decades after he completed his Inner Chapters, the Shangqing 上清 (Highest Clarity) revelations changed the landscape of Daoism with the creation of a corpus of writings said to descend from one of the highest heavens—and not created by human sages or immortals, as Ge Hong might have wished. For this and other reasons, as Puett remarks, “although hoping to be recognized as a master forming his own lineage, and lineage more comprehensive than any that had existed before, Ge Hong in fact was to have no such legacy.”70 We might call Ge Hong a Confucian who was deeply interested in Daoism, or a Daoist who could not forget his Confucian roots. Possibly there is a part of truth in both definitions. While Ge Hong may have been unsuccessful in his declared purpose, his success lies in the unique work that he has left us.

Bibliography Andersen, Poul. 1994. “Talking to the Gods: Visionary Divination in Early Taoism (The Sanhuang Tradition).” Taoist Resources, 5.1: 1–24. Campany, Robert. 2002. To Live as Long as Heaven and Earth: A Translation and Study of Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents. Berkeley: University of California Press. Cedzich, Ursula-Angelika. 2001. “Corpse Deliverance, Substitute Bodies, Name Change, and Feigned Death: Aspects of Metamorphosis and Immortality in Early Medieval China.” Journal of Chinese Religions, 29: 1–68. Che, Philippe. 1999. La Voie des Divins Immortels: Les chapitres discursifs du Baopuzi neipian. Paris: Gallimard. Chen, Feilong 陳飛龍. 1980. Life and Works of Ge Hong 葛洪之文論及其生平. Taipei: Wenshizhe Chubanshe. Chunqiu Gongyang Zhuan 春秋公羊傳. 1815. In Ruan Yuan 阮元, ed. Commentaries and Annotations on the Thirteen Classics 十三經注疏. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju.

 For consistency with the rest of this essay, I have replaced Ware’s “geniehood” with “immortality.”  Lai 1998: 211–212. 70  Puett 2007: 113. 68 69

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Csikszentmihalyi, Mark. 2006. Readings in Han Chinese Thought. Indianapolis: Hackett. Despeux, Catherine. 1989. “Gymnastics: The Ancient Tradition.” In Livia Kohn, ed., Taoist Meditation and Longevity Techniques, 225–261. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Guo, Qingfan 郭慶藩. 1961. Collected Annotations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Harper, Donald. 1998. Early Chinese Medical Literature: The Mawangdui Medical Manuscripts. London: Kegan Paul International. Hendrischke, Barbara. 1991. “The Concept of Inherited Evil in the Taiping jing.” East Asian History, 2: 1–30. Hu, Fuchen 胡孚琛. 1989. Immortality Taoism in the Wei-Jin Period: A Study of the Baopuzi Neipian 魏晋神仙道教:抱朴子内篇研究. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Kaltenmark, Max. 1953. Le Lie-sien tchouan (Biographies légendaires des Immortels taoïstes de l’antiquité). Peking: Université de Paris. Kleeman, Terry. 2016. Celestial Masters: History and Ritual in Early Daoist Communities. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Kohn, Livia. 1998. “Counting Good Deeds and Days of Life: The Quantification of Fate in Medieval China.” Asiatische Studien/Études Asiatiques, 52: 833–870. Lai, Chi-tim. 1998. “Ko Hung’s Discourse of Hsien-Immortality: A Taoist Configuration of an Alternate Ideal Self-Identity.” Numen, 45.2: 183–220. Lee, Fong-mao 李豐楙. 1996. “Origin and Development of the Threefold Classification of the Divine Immortals 神仙三品說的原始及其演變.” In Mistaken Ascent and Banishment: Studies on the Daoist Literature of the Six Dynasties, Sui, and Tang Periods 誤入與謫降: 六朝隋唐道 教文學論集, 33–92. Taipei: Taiwan Xuesheng Shuju. Legge, James. 1893. The Chinese Classics, volume 1: Confucian Analects, The Great Learning, and The Doctrine of the Mean. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Legge, James. 1895. The Chinese Classics, volume 2: The Works of Mencius. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Lo, Yuet Keung. 2010. “Destiny and Retribution in Early Medieval China.” In Alan K.L. Chan and Yuet Keung Lo, eds., Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, 319–356. Albany: State University of New York Press. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 2009. Collected Commentaries and Explanatory Annotations on Laozi’s Daodejing 老子道德經注校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Lunyu Zhuzi Suoyin 論語逐字索引. 1995. Hong Kong: Shangwu Yinshuguan. Maeda, Shigeki. 2006. “Between Karmic Retribution and Entwining Infusion: Is the Karma of the Parent Visited Upon the Child?” In Benjamin Penny, ed., Daoism in History: Essays in Honour of Liu Ts’un-yan, 101–120. London: Routledge. Mengzi Zhuzi Suoyin 孟子逐字索引. 1995. Hong Kong: Shangwu Yinshuguan. Murakami, Yoshimi 村上喜実. 1967. The Master Who Embraces Simplicity 抱朴子. Tokyo: Meitoku Shuppansha. Needham, Joseph et  al. 1974. Science and Civilisation in China, volume 5: Chemistry and Chemical Technology, Part Two: Spagyrical Discovery and Invention: Magisteries of Gold and Immortality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 2005. Great Clarity: Daoism and Alchemy in Early Medieval China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Puett, Michael. 2007. “Humans, Spirits, and Sages in Chinese Late Antiquity: Ge Hong’s Master Who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi).” Extrême-Orient, Extrême-Occident, 29: 95–119. Robinet, Isabelle. 1979. “Metamorphosis and Deliverance from the Corpse in Taoism.” History of Religions, 19: 37–70. Robinet, Isabelle. 1997. Taoism: Growth of a Religion, Phyllis Brooks, trans. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Roth, Harold and Sarah Queen. 2000. “A Syncretist Perspective on the Six Schools.” In William deBary, ed., Sources of Chinese Tradition, volume 1: 278–282. New  York: Columbia University Press.

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Sima, Qian 司馬遷. 1985. Records of the Historian 史記. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ming 王明. 1996. Collated Annotations on the Inner Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子內篇校 釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Watson, Burton. 1968. The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu. New York: Columbia University Press. Ware, James R. 1966. Alchemy, Medicine and Religion in the China of A.D. 320: The Nei P’ien of Ko Hung (Pao-p’u tzu). Cambridge: MIT Press. Wilhelm, Richard. 1950. The I-ching or Book of Changes, Cary F.  Baynes, trans. New  York: Bollingen. Zhouyi Yinde 周易引得. 1935. Peking: Harvard-Yenching Institute. Fabrizio Pregadio has taught at different universities in Italy, Germany, the United States, and Canada. He is currently a Research Associate at the International Consortium for Research in the Humanities “Fate, Freedom and Prognostication,” University Erlangen-Nuremberg. His research interests are Daoist thought, religion, and traditions of self-cultivation, as well as Daoist internal alchemy, and the Daoist views of divination.

Chapter 23

Ge Hong’s Evolving Discourse on You and Wu and its Roots in the Daodejing Thomas Michael

1  Introduction Ge Hong 葛洪 (284–364 CE) is one of the more fascinating figures in the history of Chinese religion and philosophy, as well as one of the least studied by modern scholarship. The greatest volume of his publications demonstrates his in-depth engagement with Confucianism, but he consistently identified himself as a Daoist. Ge Hong also announced himself as a practitioner of a tradition of Daoist bodily cultivation that he traced all the way back to the figure of Laozi 老子, despite the fact that modern scholarship has seen the former as anything but sympathetic to the latter. As a self-proclaimed Daoist who devoted himself to alchemy and the pursuit of immortality, Ge Hong had many first-hand experiences with the Celestial Master movement sweeping China at the time (some of his family members had even converted to it), yet he vehemently turned his back on it. In spite of this, his greatest legacy to Chinese religious history was felt most powerfully by the institutionalized sects of Daoist religion. Additionally, Ge Hong is also counted the among the ranks of Xuanxue 玄学 (“Mystery Learning”) scholars.1 Teng Wei and Tang Juan provide a nice introduction to Ge Hong in the following: During the Wei-Jin dynasties, the scholar’s awareness of individual life was awakened, but when they woke up, they found that they were in an era of brutal and precarious dark chaos. 1  Xuanxue has been translated into English as “Neo-Daoism,” which is something of a misnomer because the primary allegiance of many of its proponents, including Wang Bi 王弼, Guo Xiang 郭象, and Zhang Zhan 張湛 was to Confucianism, while others, including Ge Hong, Ji Kang 嵇 康, and Ruan Ji 阮籍, are best recognized for their allegiance to Daoist thought. Many contemporary Chinese scholars seem content to understand Xuanxue, next to its original historical placement in the Wei-Jin dynasties, in terms of “the metaphysics of Dao.”

T. Michael (*) School of Philosophy, Beijing Normal University, Beijing, China © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_23

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Experiencing the joy of life and self-existence, they also always had to confront the threat of death. As a result, some of these scholars were keen on religious fantasies and they sought to explore the spiritual destination of their spirits; some of them reveled in unleashing their bondage while others simply lived as recluses in the mountains and forests to enjoy a temporary physical and psychological liberation … Ge Hong manifested this life-­ consciousness of the Wei-Jin scholars both in theory and practice. He changed the illusion of immortality into an invisible reality that was within reach. His greatest achievements did not lie in his concrete methods for becoming an immortal, but in his providing a theoretical foundation for the state of immortality itself (Teng and Tang 2011: 73).

Many contemporary Chinese scholars agree with this assessment of Ge Hong’s most important contribution that he articulated in his chef-d’oeuvre, the Baopuzi 抱 朴子 (The Master Who Embraces Simplicity), but hand-in-hand with his theoretical foundation went a set of practices involving yangsheng 養生 bodily techniques of qi 氣 (breath) circulation and methods of alchemy that he systematized in accordance with his theoretical foundation which he believed would justify the pursuit of immortality, the successful achiever of which he called xian 仙.2 He constructed this foundation upon a specific discourse on you 有 (being) and wu 無 (non-being),3 as Li Zongding writes: “Ge Hong employed you/wu for the production of an architectural structure for the metaphysics of cosmic generation, as well as for the methods of its application [for attaining immortality], and it became one of the most important elements of Wei-Jin Xuanxue” (Li 2012: 87–88). Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu is beholden to the Daodejing’s 道德經 initial establishment of it; as Li (2012: 88) also writes, “The terms you and wu began to be specialized philosophical terms from the time of Laozi.” Thus, any exploration of Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu will need to examine the many components of it that were laid out in the Daodejing, and it is precisely there that the study of this discourse will begin. Before embarking on that project, it is important to point out that Ge Hong was not the only Xuanxue thinker who saw himself as inheriting and developing the Daodejing’s discourse on you/wu; before him stands the towering figure of Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE), who also established his reading of the Daodejing on that very foundation. Their separate development and enrichment of that discourse, however, went in radically different directions: Wang Bi kept his strictly within the realm of a pure philosophy spiced with a dose of mysticism, while Ge Hong strove to maintain a deep harmony between theory and practice. While this chapter primarily intends to examine Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu, it is very difficult to grasp his achievements without taking recourse from time to time to Wang Bi’s

2  See Michael (2015b, 2016) for a closer analysis of Ge Hong’s conception of yangsheng and alchemy. Also see Livia Kohn’s chapter in this Companion. 3  The base meaning of you is “to have,” and wu is “not to have.” In spite of A.C. Graham’s (1959, 1989) hesitations, they are often translated in Western works into the terms of being and non-being, and I believe these translations are for the most part warranted and non-problematic. In this chapter, I leave you/wu in their transliterated form in order to highlight the direct continuity on this discourse from Laozi through to Ge Hong.

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corresponding achievements in the same discursive domain, but on a radically different cipher, as a counterpoint.4 Ge Hong saw Laozi and Daoism with the utmost esteem, followed by Confucius and Confucianism; Wang Bi, on the other hand, held the opposite view. This is not surprising, given that Ge Hong was a self-professed follower of Laozi, while Wang Bi revered Confucius as the greatest of sages. In other words, both effectively considered Laozi to be Daoist, but Ge Hong read the Daodejing as a Daoist, and Wang Bi read it as a Confucian, and this deeply matters for how we read each of their writings: for Wang Bi, the Daodejing is foremost a philosophical treatise composed for the enlightened ruler, whereas for Ge Hong, it is primarily a religious manual for the seeker of immortality. There are other, somewhat more mundane sociological differences informing their separate readings of the Daodejing, but the analysis of their biographies is not part of this study. What is worth noting, however, is that Wang Bi, who recognized its tremendous intellectual and spiritual profundity, was the first major figure to engage the Daodejing after its damning associations with the popular rebellions at the end of the Han, and his commentary to it was partly motivated by the desire to whitewash as many religious elements from the writing as he could, and his metaphysical reading accomplished just that. Ge Hong, on the other hand, was certainly aware of Wang Bi’s commentary and rejected not only the metaphysical structures that he laid over it, but also the entire metaphysical edifice of Han period classical learning. In fact, Zhong Sheng and Luo Yi ask the question: Why does Ge Hong oppose Xuanxue [read: metaphysics]? In essence, Daoism and metaphysics not only do not conflict, they are inextricably linked. Moreover, as a master of Daoist theory, his thought incorporates many metaphysical components, and there are many academic studies on just this topic. So, we might ask, what factors contributed to his so strongly criticizing metaphysics? (Zhong and Luo 2008: 155).

The continuation of their study goes on to explore many of the intellectual, sociological, and biographical factors behind Ge Hong’s opposition to metaphysics, but the core reason is that Ge Hong was doing religion plain and simple, and his discourse on you/wu was put directly in service to that.5 As Sun Yiping writes: Religious faith as a type of genuine conviction represents a characteristically human value system and way of thinking, but if it only depends on the objects of worship as if they were vitally alive, as well as on certain social and psychological foundations, then it is i­ nsufficient; 4  As important as this counterpoint is to approach and understand the thought of Ge Hong, particularly given Wang Bi’s over-riding dominance on Daodejing exegesis such that it is hardly recognized among Western readers that Ge Hong even had anything worthwhile to say about it, it is hard not to lament the fact that Ge Hong did not set himself to writing a direct commentary to it, unlike Wang Bi. Additionally, Western cultural resources for understanding Ge Hong, and Daoism more generally, are severely limited compared to those of the Chinese, and Wang Bi provides a relatively more familiar point d’appui for Western readers. 5  There are many excellent contemporary Chinese studies on Ge Hong’s philosophical engagement with Warring States and Han period thought that show he was much more than a simple iconoclast when it came to the metaphysical and philosophical projects of early China. Among the best are Hu Fuchen (1989, 2006) and Li Zongding (2012).

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it also needs the support of theory and practice … After the philosophical arguments of Ge Hong’s metaphysics, the divine xian 仙 transcended their non-logical and non-­empirical features of myth and legend, and became objects of religious belief and practice that were endowed with a rich philosophical content that was disseminated throughout Chinese society, and this objectively promoted the development of Daoist immortality (Sun 2011: 56–59).

2  The Daodejing’s Discourse on You/Wu Laozi established a discourse on you/wu that gathered and combined two separate domains: cosmogony and cosmology. In this section, I introduce this discourse, insofar as it provides the structures upon which Ge Hong constructed his own discourse on you/wu. The foundations of Laozi’s discourse appeal to the condition and activities of the pristine Dao before anything else in the cosmos had come to exist, and it conceives Dao in terms of you/wu. Since you/wu exist prior to any and all other things, they cannot be thought of as either energy or matter, making this notion fundamentally different from the somewhat parallel notions of qi and Yin 陰 and Yang 陽, both of which are generated by you/wu and are themselves amenable to identifications as either energy or matter. Daodejing chapter 25 introduces this discourse with its meditations on Dao: There was a thing completed in chaos that was born before heaven and earth. Empty and still, it stands on its own and does not change. It moves in cycles and is never threatened. It can be taken as the mother of the world. I do not know its name; I call it Dao.

有物混成, 先天地生。寂兮寥兮, 獨立不改, 周行而不殆, 可以為天下母。吾不知 其名, 字之曰道 (Zhu 2000: 100–101).

The Daodejing establishes Dao in the time before the primordial beginning of the cosmos, in the time before the initial stirrings of heaven and earth. There, Dao “stands in its own” (du li 獨立) and, entirely self-enclosed in its own (non-)presence, it churns through self-contained cycles (zhou xing 周行), undergoing no other actions or movements, yet it is still recognized as “the mother of the world” (tianxia mu 天下母). Daodejing chapter 21 goes into more detail concerning this cosmogonic Dao: As a thing, Dao is vague and diffuse. It is vague and diffuse, but inside there are images. It is diffuse and vague, but inside there are things. It is obscure and dark, but inside there are vitalities.

道之為物, 唯恍唯惚。忽兮恍兮, 其中有象; 恍兮忽兮, 其中有物。窈兮冥兮, 其中 有精 (Zhu 2000: 88–89).

This passage provides additional perspective on what it is that churns through the cycles: images (xiang 象), entities (wu 物), and vitalities (jing 精), the cosmogonic components of Dao in a state of turbid undifferentiation called chaos (hun 混). They partake of being without being any specific or self-subsistent thing or entity, regardless that the Daodejing uses abstract nouns to point to them; this is no more than a

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function of the poetic nature of the in illo tempore language used to describe the genetic make-up of the pristine Dao. Referring to the life- and world-creating cosmogonic content on the verge of activating, these images, things, and vitalities are only quasi-manifest reflections of the eternity of presence-suffused you within the infinity of the totality-field of wu that signifies the spatial non-presence into and out of which the you-presences churn. Another way of stating this is to say that you churns throughout wu, rendering what was a presence-laden you-space into an absence-laden wu-space, and rendering what was an absence-laden wu-space into a presence-laden you-space. These passages from Daodejing chapters 25 and 21 envision the primordial environment within which the cosmos ultimately and eventually comes into being. Daodejing chapter 42 depicts this coming-into-being in a manner simultaneously vague and precise: Dao gives birth to the One. The One gives birth to the Two. The Two gives birth to the Three. The Three gives birth to the ten thousand things.

道生一, 一生二, 二生三, 三生萬物 (Zhu 2000: 174).

Ge Hong read the numbers (states or stages, as the case may be) from the cosmogonic sequence in terms of Dao giving birth to qi as the One, qi giving birth to Yin and Yang as the Two, and Yin and Yang giving birth to the realms of heaven, earth, and human as the Three. The Daodejing’s use of the term sheng 生, which is often translated into English as “to generate,” also and more evocatively means “to give birth to,” and this is precisely how Ge Hong reads it, thereby maintaining Laozi’s vision of Dao as the mother (mu 母), as seen in Daodejing chapters 1, 20, 25, 52, and 59. On the other hand, in his commentary on Daodejing chapter 42, Wang Bi strove to de-emphasize the image of Dao as the mother giving birth in keeping with his own philosophical commitments, and this is revealed even in his reading of sheng as “to generate” (Lou 1999: 117).6 Ge Hong’s reading as “to give birth to” is even more significant. When one thing generates another thing, the result is two separate things different in essence; when one thing gives birth to another thing, there are also two separate things but with a shared essence. In the cosmogonic sequence beginning from Dao as the mother and ending with the birth of the ten thousand things, a shared essence is transmitted down the line. To call it qi, or Yin and Yang, or heaven and earth, is already too late and ignores the initial essence, which is itself the eternally existing you/wu.

6  “What the ten thousand forms of the ten thousand things return to is the One. From what does the One come? From wu. From wu there is the One. Can the One then be called wu? As it is already called the One, how is it without a name? There is the word for it, and there is the One, so how could they not be the Two? There is the One and there is the Two, and the generation of the Three follows. The numbers arising from wu are exhausted at this point. Going beyond this, there are no other things that belong to the class of Dao 萬物萬形, 其歸一也, 何由致一, 由於無也。由無乃 一, 一可謂無, 已謂之一, 豈得無言乎。有言有一, 非二如何, 有一有二, 遂生乎三, 從無之有, 數盡乎斯, 過此以往, 非道之流.”

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Of more importance is to recognize Daodejing chapter 42’s conception of the separate operations of the birth of this very world and all things in it that was initiated by the cosmogonic movements of you/wu from within the total field, or body, of Dao, despite the fact that it nowhere directly mentions you/wu. We must look to other passages from the Daodejing to understand how it applies the language of you/wu in relation to the very origins, and this begins with Daodejing chapter 1, which states: Wu names the beginning of heaven and earth; you names the mother of the ten thousand things.

無名天地之; 有名萬物之母 (Zhu 2000: 5).

These are controversial lines in Daodejing exegesis, and how one reads them says much about one’s commitments, religious or philosophical, with respect to Daoism.7 Wang Bi demonstrates his philosophical commitment by reading the first two characters of each line as a compound noun, in which wuming 無名 refers to the “nameless” and youming 有名 to the “named.” Doing so, he posits two radically separate levels of existence, the first characterized as “nameless” pointing to a transcendental (or logical) realm beyond time and space and beyond language and cognition, and a second characterized as “named” referring to the phenomenological realm in which language functions and knowledge can be secured. Where the first is metaphysically absolute, the second is contingently dependent. The alignment of Wang Bi’s commentary with both the Confucian philosophical tradition and Western sinology’s inheritance of it, persuades that his reading of these lines represents the only valid reading. When this alternate (if that is the correct word) reading is at times recognized, it is usually rejected out of hand, and this itself is taken as sufficient reason to disassociate Ge Hong from any relationship to a pure Daoism, for which the Zhuangzi 莊子 is often held to represent the gold standard. Nonetheless, this is precisely how Ge Hong reads the lines, and with purpose: to justify and stabilize his construction of a theoretical basis for the Daoist quest for longevity and immortality. But this requires a litmus; at a minimum, his reading of the Daodejing must be syntactically sound, especially if and where it diverges from Wang Bi’s dominant reading. When Ge Hong is deliberately disassociated from Daoism, it is almost always on philosophical grounds, not syntactic ones.8

7  Throughout this chapter, I will continue to contrast Ge Hong’s “religious” commitment to, or reading of, the Daodejing with Wang Bi’s “philosophical” one. Hoping to curtail debate into the essential or defining differences between them, by “religious” I refer to the taking seriously of notions of long-life and immortality, and by “philosophical” I mean the refusal to entertain such notions. While this might come across as a refusal to engage, I appeal to the cultural history of Daoism, in which the possibility of immortality was not only taken seriously by practitioners, but also used as a badge of honor with the intent to differentiate themselves from the hegemony of Confucian dogmatic authoritarianism. 8  Herlee Creel (1970) both initiated and exemplified this habit of Western sinology.

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Ge Hong’s reading takes the terms you and wu as independent, stand-alone nouns and ming as a verb, thereby rendering you/wu entirely amenable to both language and cognition; this is precisely why, in his thinking, the Daodejing is able speak about both you/wu and Dao.9 For Ge Hong, Daodejing chapter 1 demonstrates wu as the “beginning” (shi 始) that situates temporality reckoned in terms of heaven (tian 天) and spatiality reckoned in terms of earth (di 地), each together generating the cosmically situated totality in which existence comes forth. You is the designation for the ultimate source of the plenitude of existence active within the spatio-temporal boundaries, and it is referred to as the mother. By itself, however, you, as that which endows existence to every existent within the cosmos, is equated with no individually specific thing or being, in the same way that a mother can give birth to innumerable offspring without at the same time giving birth to herself. Significantly different from associations with a masculine-type god that creates ex-nihilo, you is a feminine-­ type generatrix that gives birth. The following passage from Daodejing chapter 40 poses a possible contradiction to Ge Hong’s reading of the above lines from Daodejing chapter 1: The ten thousand things of the world are born from you, and you is born from wu.

天下萬物生於有, 有生於無 (Zhu 2000: 165).

At first glance, this passage appears to establish a logical sequence applicable to the coming-into-existence of all things and beings: wu gives birth to you, and you in turn gives birth to existents. Wang Bi, who asserts ontic and logical priority to wu over you on every level, in fact reads these lines in precisely this way: “All of the ten thousand things of the world take you for generation. That from which you begins takes wu as the root. In order to keep you complete, it must return back to wu 天下 之物皆以有為生, 有之所始, 以無為本, 將欲全有, 必反於無也” (Lou 1999: 110). As Li Zongding perceptively explains: “Wang Bi separated you and wu into two levels, and put forth the propositions that ‘wu is the root,’ and ‘you is born from wu,’ thereby transforming a developmental sequence of cosmology into a logical sequence of ontology” (Li 2012: 89). Ge Hong, on the other hand, reads this cosmological sequence as giving only a limited logical priority to wu only in the cosmological field with respect to the coming-into-being of phenomenal existents; he affirms the equal priority of you/wu in every other way. Wang Bi, who attaches more importance to the cosmological field of phenomenal existence than to the cosmogonic, reads this cosmological sequence as providing precision to the lines from Daodejing chapter 1, but Ge Hong, who attaches more importance to the cosmogonic field in which you/wu remain in an eternal state of mutual interplay, minimizes Daodejing chapter 40 and takes the following line from Daodejing chapter 2 as providing precision to the lines from Daodejing chapter 1:  Wang Bi’s reading of the first line of Daodejing chapter 1 (“The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao”) has empowered the Confucian tradition, as well as much of Western sinology, to diminish, even ridicule, most religious readings of the Daodejing (along with Ge Hong’s career as a Daoist) by claiming that it spends five thousand words talking about something that cannot be talked about.

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Wu and you mutually give birth to each other.

有無相生 (Zhu 2000: 9).

Doing so, he thereby sidesteps the possible contradiction posed by Daodejing chapter 40 (but note that this line in turn poses a possible contradiction to Wang Bi’s reading of Daodejing chapter 1). This goes a long way in demonstrating the radically different directions taken by their separate discourses on you/wu. Ge Hong nonetheless reads the Daodejing’s cosmological sequence as also prioritizing their mutual interplay within the spatio-temporal world of time and space. This reading too is often ignored or rejected by scholars who hold to Wang Bi’s reading, which takes wu as the single, absolute, and transcendent foundation of you. For him, no matter if it is the cosmogonic or the cosmological level, there is only the logical sequence of wu generating you, and you generating things and beings. Ge Hong’s reasons for seeing their equal priority even in the cosmological field are justified by two lines from Daodejing chapter 1 that demonstrate two distinct perspectives on existence that I call the wu-perspective and the you-perspective:10 Hold to the standpoint of wu with the intent to witness its subtleties. Hold to the standpoint of you with the intent to witness its manifestations.

常無欲, 以觀其妙; 常有欲, 以觀其徼 (Zhu 2000: 6).

Specialists of the Daodejing steeped in Wang Bi’s reading will be struck by how differently Ge Hong interprets these lines; Wang Bi reads chang 常 as an adverb and wuyu 無欲 and youyu 有欲 as descriptive verbs: “When the ten thousand things are constantly without desires, one can witness their subtleties; when they are constantly with desires, one can witness their boundaries.” His point is that when things are without desires, they are in the state of beginning to come forth from wu, and when they are with desires, then they are already complete. In this way, Wang Bi again underscores his view of the strictly transcendental priority of wu over you. In his reading, Ge Hong takes chang verbally, and wu and you nominally.11 By “holding to the perspective of you” (chang you 常有), the typical mode of human perspective, one can “witness the manifestations” (guan qi jiao 觀其徼) of phenomenal existents as they ontically are; by “holding to the perspective of wu” (chang wu 常無) one can “witness the subtleties” (guan qi miao 觀其妙) of the interplay of you/wu in the ontic emergence and perdurance of things and beings, and this perspective is only possible because you/wu are never separated, even in the field of cosmology, despite the fact that it takes a radically altered perspective to “witness” this. I will return to the ways in which Ge Hong applies these two perspectives in his discourse on you/wu in the next section, but for the moment it is sufficient to note how the Daodejing applies them by way of a set of vivid depictions of their mutual interplay given in Daodejing chapter 11:

 See Alan Fox’s chapter in this Companion for an alternative reading.  See Michael (2015a: 15–21) for a closer analysis of the linguistic mechanisms at play in this reading.

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Clay is kneaded to make a vessel, but the use of the vessel lies precisely in its wu. Doors and windows are cut out to make a room, but the use of the room lies precisely in its wu. For this reason, the service of a thing lies in its you. But its use lies in its wu.

埏埴以為器, 當其無, 有器之用。鑿戶牖以為室, 當其無, 有室之用。故有之以為 利, 無之以為用 (Zhu 2000: 44–45).

These striking images depict the mutual interplay of you/wu in relation to all things that exist. A vessel exists and functions as a vessel only by virtue of its material clay, the existent stuff directly generated by you. It is strictly bounded by its material extensions, surrounded on all sides (top, bottom, inside, and outside) in its specific measures as an extended thing by that which it is not, its wu. Its inside possesses two aspects: the inner surface that can be felt, and the contained space that cannot be felt. It is because of the interplay of these two aspects (you/wu) that the vessel can contain other matter (water or wine, or gold and dirt), and this provides for its use. In the same way, a room is built of walls, floor, and ceiling, the material stuff generated from you, but it is only a room because of the spaces cut into it in the form of a doorway and windows, without which the room would only be a cube: this is its wu. Does the vessel strictly consist of only the extended material clay, or is the internally contained space also part of what it is? Does the room strictly consist of the extended material of walls, floor, and ceiling, or is the empty space of the door and windows also part of what it is? This entirely depends on one’s adopted perspective: either the you-perspective or the wu-perspective. The you-perspective reveals things in their condition of presence, by which they can be known physically (or chemically and atomically), but also, for example, politically, psychologically, and historically. The wu-perspective, on the other hand, reveals things with respect to their metaphysical absence(s), and this is the perspective by which to know Dao (this will be explained in more detail in the next section). What is important to note is that the wu-perspective can be extended to all things that exist, from the wu of a clock face with the you of its arms, to the you of the fingers with the wu in-between: all things and beings, each entirely unique to themselves, everywhere and at all times express the constant interplay of you/wu. The Zhuangzi, which nowhere challenges the Daodejing’s discourse of you/wu, did not directly apply it for understanding the existence of things and beings; for that, it developed and applied a far more materially-based theory of qi that involved Yin and Yang thought. It affirmed qi, not you/wu, as the primary substance of Dao, where the differences between things are due to their different qi-concentrations: the qi of some things is predominantly clear and light (Yang), while the qi of others is predominantly turbid and heavy (Yin). This theory of qi had deep consequences for the Zhuangzi’s wider understanding of the transformation of things, which I will not go into here. Although Ge Hong applied the Zhuangzi’s theory of qi as life for explaining death, he harbored serious reservations about it for explaining life. This is because the theory of qi as life nullifies immortality as a viable existential possibility, and, embracing the strict terms of this theory, the Zhuangzi only advocated for forgetting the body through the practices of “sitting and forgetting” (zuowang 坐忘), whose

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intended goals radically differed from the long-life of yangsheng or the immortality of alchemy. While this theory cohered nicely with Wang Bi’s thought, it was anathema to Ge Hong’s.12

3  Ge Hong’s Discourse on You/Wu: The Mystery Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu directly emerged from the Daodejing’s own discourse on you/wu and its corresponding conception of Dao. One aspect of its discourse was directed to the cosmogony pertaining to the origins of time, space, and the cosmos, in which you/wu constantly “give birth to each other.” Another aspect was directed to the cosmology pertaining to the constant birth of all phenomenal existents, in which “the ten thousand things are born from you, and you is born from wu.” The Daodejing’s discourse on you/wu also recognized two independent modes of perception: a metaphysical wu-perspective, and a physical you-perspective. An additional feature of the Daodejing’s discourse on you/wu that I will only mention is its exploration of the functional interaction of you/wu on an existential level, as represented by two radically different modes of behavior that it distinguishes in terms of intentionality (youwei 有為), and non-intentionality (wuwei 無 為), the latter exclusively pertaining to the behavior of the sage. This aspect of its discourse attends to other wu-type activities and behaviors, including non-­intentional desire or wuyu 無欲 and the carrying out of non-intentional projects or wushi 無事. All of this serves to underscore the fact that, for Ge Hong, the Daodejing never  Beginning with Herlee Creel, modern scholars have seen the “Daoist” thought of Ge Hong as deeply contradictory to the “Daoist” thought of the Zhuangzi, and this simplistic view is founded on precisely this point. Contemporary Chinese scholars have taken great strides in uncovering the deeper relations between the two; for example, Yuan Long writes: “On one hand, Ge Hong fully advocated the Zhuangzi’s thought about ‘valuing life concerning the survival of the body, but on the other hand he strongly rejected its theories about ‘the equalization of life and death,’ and he ultimately decided on the belief in the divine xian … The Zhuangzi thought that, after the death of the person, there is no value in regretting the death of the fleshly body, because it is only one among the ten thousand things, and the transformations of things can never cease … Ge Hong attached great importance to the belief that the spirit depended on the existence of the body, and he believed that the continued existence of the flesh was extremely important for cultivating divine xianship, so he adopted multiple methods to maintain the fleshly body.” Yuan 2015: 15. Alternatively, Li Songrong writes: “Daojia (“Daoist philosophy”) and daojiao (“Daoist religion”) are both “Daoism”: the former is directed to the philosophical faction, the latter to the religious faction. Between daojia and daojiao, there are similarities and differences. Daojia pursues the realm of absolute happiness, daojiao pursues the results of immortality. One is directed to the conditions of life, the other is directed to the goals of religious practice. The Zhuangzi is a classic of Daoist doctrine, and its Dao encompasses the meanings of ontology. It takes the perspective of Dao to observe death, and it solves the problem of the transcendence of death from the spiritual level. The Baopuzi 抱朴子 is a classic of early daojiao, and although its Dao inherited the ontological characteristics of the Zhuangzi’s Dao, it connected Dao to the divine xian of daojiao. Since becoming a xian became the mark of whether one has attained Dao, how to become a xian comprises the core contents of the work.” Li 2008: 29. 12

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opposed you/wu but rather perceived them as equal partners in an eternally constant state of mutual interplay, whereas Wang Bi consistently refers to wu as the self-­ subsistent root independently existing on its own with absolute priority over you. Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu further developed that of the Daodejing’s by his injection of an innovative body of technical terminology into it. Much like the Daodejing, he conceives of Dao in two ways: as the ultimate source from which all existents are born, and as the path leading to long-life and immortality primarily consisting of the techniques of yangsheng and the methods of alchemy.13 Ge Hong’s innovative body of terminology is first applied to Dao in the cosmogonic environment of illud tempus. As the ultimate source from which all things and beings are born, Ge Hong maintains that the body of Dao consists only of you/wu, and this from eternity. From within this eternity (if indeed this wording has meaning), the origins of the cosmogony spontaneously set in motion, ultimately resulting in the generation of temporality as heaven and spatiality as earth. Contained by wu, all that preceded the formation of heaven and earth was the primordial chaos of you, consisting of “images, entities, and vitalities.” Where the Daodejing designates this primordial chaos as simply hun 混, Ge Hong designates it as hunmang 渾茫. While the Daodejing does not attach a specific designation to the event(s) of the original formations, Ge Hong calls it the “Great Beginning” (taichu 泰初).14 In the primordial and chaotic hunmang, there was only you/wu, and this characterizes the total body of Dao. Heavily relying on the cosmogonic sequence of Daodejing chapter 42, Ge Hong in chapter 7 (sainan 塞難) writes: When hunmang divided, the clear and the turbid were organized. Some of it ascended and became energized while some of it descended and became stabilized. Neither heaven nor earth knew how it was that they became thus. The ten thousand things were touched by qi, and this too was so of itself.

渾茫剖判, 清濁以陳, 或昇而動, 或降而靜, 彼天地猶不知所以然也。萬物感氣, 並 亦自然 (Wang 1996: 136).

The primordial division in Ge Hong’s cosmogonic sequence does not refer to the division of you from wu, because they never can be divided; it refers, rather, to the division or distantiation of the clearness of you from the turbidness of you, all of which never ceases to interact with and within wu. The rising clearness of you ascended to form heaven and the falling turbidness of you descended to form earth; but neither heaven nor earth as such are things or beings; the “energized” (dong 動) you of heaven manifests as time, and the “stabilized” (jing 靜) you of earth manifests as space, thus providing the temporalized and spatialized dimensions of the

 As Li Zongding notes: “Although Ge Hong’s theories were placed in the same relative position as Wang Bi’s theories, his discussions of you/wu did not have the same ontological meaning of Wang Bi’s wu, which gave wu a marked emphasis in the original production of the ten thousand things, and this is evidenced in the methods that Ge Hong adopted in his theories about bodily cultivation.” Li 2012: 91. 14  See Michael (2011) for a closer analysis of the development of “taichu” terminology in early Daoism. 13

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cosmos within which all existents will ultimately come to birth. The passage continues: Every single thing and being together with heaven and earth constitute a single body. However, some were formed earlier and others later. The bodies of some are enormous while the bodies of others are miniscule. The immensity of heaven and earth is felt by the smallness of the ten thousand things. The smallness of the ten thousand things is felt by the immensity of heaven and earth.

與彼天地, 各為一物, 但成有先後, 體有巨細耳。有天地之大, 故覺萬物之小。有 萬物之小, 故覺天地之大 (Wang 1996: 136).

These lines are important to Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu because they establish the existence of ontologically distinct realms, each emerging in a sequence of cosmic unfolding. They include the antecedent realm of heaven and earth and the subsequent realm of existents; these are in addition to the even prior realm of the eternity of you/wu, which also never ceases to exist over and beyond time and space. Because the body of Dao contains all of this, and all that comes into existence is born from this body, receiving essence as the offspring receives the essence of the mother, all realms “constitute a single body” (ge wei yi wu 各為一物). The realm of heaven and earth is ontologically distinct and provides the time and space within which all existents will come to be; Ge Hong underscores this with his use of the temporal markers “earlier and later” (xian hou 先後) with reference to heaven, and the spatial markers “enormous and miniscule” (ju xi 巨細) with reference to earth. While there are strict ontological distinctions between these realms of time and space on one hand and individual existents on the other, there is no separation of you/wu, transcendental or otherwise (again placing Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu in stark contrast to Wang Bi’s); you/wu continue to mutually interact, driving on the continuous coming forth of existents that are themselves foundationally constituted by you/wu. How can this be understood? Ge Hong provides the answer in chapter 9 (daoyi 道意): Dao contains heaven and encloses earth; its root is without name. From the perspective of wu, then even shadows and echoes are replete with you, from the perspective of you, then even the ten thousand things are replete with wu.

道者涵乾括坤, 其本無名。論其無, 則影響猶為有焉; 論其有, 則萬物尚為無焉 (Wang 1996: 170).

This is an essential passage in Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu, and it directly relies on what I have called the wu- and you-perspectives first established in Daodejing chapter 1. There, the Daodejing states: Hold to the standpoint of wu with the intent to witness its subtleties. Hold to the standpoint of you with the intent to witness its manifestations.

常無欲, 以觀其妙; 常有欲, 以觀其徼 (Zhu 2000: 7).

Ge Hong alters the initial verbs of each line from 常 chang (“to frequent, to hold to”) to 論 lun (which has a complex set of meanings including, verbally, “to discuss” and, nominally, “view, theory, measure,” but he uses the term prepositionally in another of its meanings as “by, in terms of”).

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Ge Hong is not simply extending the Daodejing’s wu- and you-perspectives; rather, he brings them together without collapsing them into each other. Doing so, he offers the possibility of a totalistic view of existence by which the wu-­perspective, in addition to the Daodejing’s “subtleties” (miao 妙), also reveals you, even in the most translucent of existents including “shadows and echoes” (yingxiang 影響), and the you-perspective, in addition to the Daodejing’s “manifestations” (jiao 徼), also reveals wu, even in the most opaque of existents including “the ten thousand things” (wanwu 萬物). The passage from Daodejing chapter 1 continues: These two emerge together.

此兩者同出 (Zhu 2000: 7).

Referring to you/wu, this line appears to affirm the continuous co-presence of you/wu “emerging together” (tong chu 同出). But from what do they emerge? The answer requires recourse to a separate component of Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu, namely his understanding of the One (yi 一). Daodejing chapter 42 used the term One to designate the first off-spring of Dao, which then gave birth to the Two. However, there it served as a kind of place-marker within the cosmogonic sequence, and it is rhetorically different from its other uses in which it refers to a specific thing or content in some way identified or associated with Dao. The foundational discussion of the One is from Daodejing chapter 14, which Daodejing chapter 39 directly applies to the cosmology, while Daodejing chapter 10 and 22 remark on the sage’s ability to hold onto it. Daodejing chapter 14 states: Looked but not seen, it is called invisible. Listened for but not heard, it is called inaudible. Touched but not felt, it is called intangible. These three cannot be exhaustively analyzed. They merge together as the One.

視之不見, 名曰夷; 聽之不聞, 名曰希; 搏之不得, 名曰微。此三者不可致詰, 故混 而為一 (Zhu 2000: 52–53).

Here, the One describes a set of qualities that lie beyond sensory perception and that are “merged together as the One” (hun er wei yi 混而為一) to characterize some specific thing or content not explicitly named. An immediate response would be to say that it refers to Dao, but Ge Hong does not read it this way (nor does Wang Bi, whose commentary on these lines appears to leave it deliberately ambiguous). Whatever it is that Ge Hong refers to by the One, he situates it in the illud tempus of the cosmogony depicted in Daodejing chapter 21 and 25. Directly attributing this to Laozi, here referred to by his religious appellation, Lord Lao (Laojun 老君), Ge Hong writes in chapter 18 (dizhen 地真): Lord Lao said: It is vague and diffuse, but inside there are images. It is diffuse and vague, but inside there are entities This is called the One.15

老君曰: 忽兮恍兮, 其中有象; 恍兮忽兮, 其中有物。一之謂也 (Wang 1996: 323).

 For some reason, Ge Hong does not include the third member of Daodejing chapter 21’s cosmogonic assemblage: “vitalities.”

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Even here, Ge Hong does not name any definite referent for the One, but it characterizes two sets of content. The first set is cosmological: that which is “invisible, intangible, and inaudible” within the realm of phenomenally existing things, and the second is cosmogonic: “images and entities” within the primordial hunmang. But he maintains his attention on the cosmogonic content of that to which the One refers, because this will then be the same One that he will discuss in due course in terms of long-life and immortality. Although Ge Hong does not identify the One with Dao (which refers to primordial body of the mother gestating you/wu), they share a particular relationship that he explains in a striking way: Dao springs from the One. Its value is without equal.

道起於一, 其貴無偶 (Wang 1996: 323).

This line seems counterintuitive: Does not the Daodejing designate Dao as that which pre-existed everything? Is not Dao the original existent from which all things are born? Yet Ge Hong unmistakably states that Dao “springs” (qi 起) from the One, thereby giving cosmogonic priority to the One over Dao. A rich passage from Daodejing chapter 25 provides charter for Ge Hong’s claim about the priority of the One over Dao; it states: Humans are modeled on earth. Earth is modeled on heaven. Heaven is modeled on Dao. Dao is modeled on what is so of itself.

人法地, 地法天, 天法道, 道法自然 (Zhu 2000: 103).

This reverse sequence leads from the world of phenomenal existence back to the Dao of the beginnings, but what is found at the very beginnings is not indeed Dao, but ziran 自然 (“what is so of itself”). The key verb here is “to model” (fa 法). In his commentary, Wang Bi reads it to refer to imitative behavior, where the ruler imitates one component of the activity of earth, earth does the same with respect to heaven, and so on. Ge Hong, however, reads “to model” in a much more active, even creative sense that verges on the meaning of “to give birth to” (sheng 生), such that what is modelled can be taken as a smaller scale version of that which does the modelling. Thus, humans are smaller than and modelled on earth; earth is smaller than and modelled on heaven (relatively speaking in terms of visual dimensions); heaven is smaller than and modelled on Dao, as it is contained in the body of Dao; and Dao is smaller than and modelled on ziran, in an ultimate sense of infinity and eternity. Dao, then, is not the ultimate source, because it is “modelled on,” or follows from, ziran. But ziran is as much an activity as a state, while at the same time it is neither activity nor state. Yet even this is not what Ge Hong takes as the One; one must regress even further, before even ziran and Dao, to find what Ge Hong calls mystery (玄 xuan), which represents the ultimate notion in Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu. This notion is so central to his project that it stands as the first word of the opening chapter (changxuan 暢玄) of the Baopuzi. The passage states:

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Mystery is the original ancestor of ziran, the ultimate progeniture of multitudinous diversity. Its minuteness and depth so profound, it can be called the subtle. Its capaciousness and distance so remote, it can be called the marvelous.

玄者, 自然之始祖, 而萬殊之大宗也。眇眛乎其深也, 故稱微焉。綿邈乎其遠也, 故稱妙焉 (Wang 1996: 1).

This mystery is the “original ancestor” (shi zu 始祖) and the “ultimate progeniture” (da zong 大宗), marking the supreme source from which even ziran was produced, this same ziran which modelled Dao. Li Zongding writes: Ge Hong gives Dao an extremely important position. Dao, from which nothing does not come, is the original principle and the original standard that the ten thousand things follow, and this is similar to Wang Bi’s “there is no thing not based on it.” However, Ge Hong understood mystery as the original source and the ontological body from which the cosmos emerged. Wang Bi only described the character and function of Dao by “mysterious,” and he emphasized the deep meaning of “mysterious” to explain it. Ge Hong elevated mystery to the same level as Dao, using different language for the same object. Like this, Ge Hong’s interpretation of mystery has the same intention of religious Daoism, and the relationship between mystery and Dao is that they produce change, and they are even combined in the phrase “mystery-Dao” as the key to access immortality (Li 2012: 36).

Ge Hong’s notion of “mystery-Dao” will be introduced soon, but before that, it is necessary to understand how he resolves mystery as the supreme ultimate, and this leads back to Daodejing chapter 1, which states: These two emerge together but have different names and together they are called mystery. The mystery beyond mysteries, it is the gateway of the many and the subtle.

此兩者, 同出而異名, 同謂之玄。玄之又玄, 衆妙之門 (Zhu 2000: 7).

Ge Hong has already identified “these two” (ci liang zhe 此兩者) as you/wu, where the question concerning from what do you/wu emerge was left unanswered. To resume this inquiry requires a brief examination of the term tong 同, which often means “the same” but is used here to mean “together,” referring to the simultaneous “emergence” (chu 出) of you/wu. For tong to mean “the same” would mean that you/wu share the same identify or essence, which would collapse wu and you into each other, which would, logically as well as by fiat, require that wu has ontological priority over you; but this is unacceptable to Ge Hong’s thinking. With this, Ge Hong reveals his identification of that to which the One refers: the eternal “togetherness” of you/wu that remains constantly functional on every level: the cosmogonic level in which you/wu mutually interact within the hunmang body of Dao; the cosmological level in which you/wu mutually interact in the generation and perdurance of all existents; and also on the level of infinity and eternity in which you/wu mutually interact prior even to the first inceptions of the cosmogony (and, we can imagine, even after the cosmology will have come to a close). On each of these several levels, you/wu are co-existent, co-present, and co-terminal, and it is precisely this eternal togetherness of you/wu that is designated by the One. Over and beyond the One, there is also mystery, a designation that can be considered as the adjectival nominalization of the infinite and eternal togetherness of you/wu. Note that we are here very far removed from Wang Bi’s discourse on you/wu.

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On this point, Li Zongding writes: Laozi used the phrase, “together they are called mystery,” to explain that wu and you together emerge from Dao, although they have different names. Therefore, Dao is able to give birth to wu and you simultaneously, and this is a subtle and deep theory. Daodejing chapter 21 depicts Dao’s pregnant condition, within it there are images and things, and this is the mystery-Dao (Li 2012: 34).

The Daodejing conceives the togetherness of you/wu not from the perspective of eternity, but rather from the perspective of this very cosmos, in terms of their interactions that brought about existence as we know it, and it does so in terms of their emergence through a “gateway” (men 門) or “gateways,” as the original Chinese does not distinguish the singular from the plural. This, then, is that from which you/wu emerge, but there are multiple gateways at issue here: the gateway from eternity to cosmogony, and the gateway from cosmogony to cosmology.16 In sum, the One names the eternal togetherness of you/wu, and mystery is the designation for their active state of mutual interaction on every level. Dao refers to the cosmic body containing the processes of the transformations caused by the interactions of you/wu, specifically in terms of the cosmogonic sequence of Daodejing chapter 42. Ge Hong, in chapter 1, provides a stark depiction of mystery’s inception of the cosmogonic sequence: Mystery enwombed the Original One. It patterned and molded the Two Principles. It inspired the Great Beginning. It forged the multitudinous species. It initiated the cycle of the twenty-eight constellations. It fashioned primordial profusion.

胞胎元一, 範鑄兩儀, 吐納大始, 鼓冶億類, 佪旋四七, 匠成草昧 (Wang 1996: 1).

Deeply reminiscent of Daodejing chapter 39, which depicted the coming-to-life of many separate sectors of the cosmology in terms of their “getting the One” (de yi 得 一), including heaven, earth, spirits, valleys, and the ten thousand things, Ge Hong proceeds to provide several other depictions of the One in action, such as the following from chapter 18: The One is able to form Yin and beget Yang. It brings the cold and the heat. Spring gets the One and things sprout. Summer gets the One and things mature. Autumn gets the One and things are harvested. Winter gets the One and things are stored.

一能成陰生陽, 推步寒暑。春得一以發, 夏得一以長, 秋得一以收, 冬得一以藏 (Wang 1996: 323).

Describing the continuous activities of the mutual interactions of you/wu within the phenomenal world, Ge Hong, as early as chapter 1, affirms that all of this squarely remains within the specific parameters of his discourse of you/wu; he writes: Effecting the million kinds, it is you. Lodged in the obscure and silent, it is wu.

因兆類而為有, 託潛寂而為無 (Wang 1996: 1).

 See Michael (2005: 61–68) for an analysis of the discursive uses of “gateways” in the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi.

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4  Ge Hong’s Discourse on You/Wu: Form and Spirit Ge Hong finds the interactions of you/wu in the makeup of all existents within the phenomenal world. Among them are included human beings, and with human beings there arises social existence, and social existence brings in its wake desire, greed, and selfishness. Falling victim to their individual desires by acting on their bias for themselves, humans assert their separate individuation apart from the One, inevitably leading them to value one side over the other: themselves over other people, their bodies over their spirits, and their you over their wu, eventuating in their wu once and for all separating from their you, resulting in death. Ge Hong’s understanding of the ways in which humans in social existence destroy their innate unity with the One directly derives from the Daodejing’s diagnosis of the sickness of human beings mired in social existence, once they have become separated from Dao. While Ge Hong accepts the Daodejing’s diagnosis of this sickness, he analyzes it in slightly different terms. For Ge Hong, as well as for Daoist discourse more generally, Dao is the source of life, either the process or the agent of change and transformation. Daodejing chapter 42 spoke of it in terms of the birth of the One to the Two to the Three to the ten thousand. But what form does transformation take in the existence of human beings? This leads to one of the more stunning innovations in Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu: in human beings, primordial wu directly transforms and manifests as spirit (shen 神), and primordial you directly transforms and manifests as body or form (xing 形).17 Ge Hong explains the birth of human beings as such: “Humans get the One and are born 人得一以生” (Wang 1996: 323), where the One comprises you/wu in their transformed state of body and spirit. Reflecting the Daodejing’s statement that “the ten thousand things are born from you, and you is born from wu,” Ge Hong writes in chapter 5 (zhili 至理): You follows wu and is born. Form requires spirit and stands. You is the palace of wu. Form is the abode of spirit.

形須神而立焉。有者, 無之宮也。形者, 神之宅也 (Wang 1996: 110).

 Given that this identification holds the key to Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu and the theoretical foundation for immortality, it is odd that it has received so little attention in the Western academy. Modern Chinese scholars, on the other hand, have taken this identification very seriously, and Hu Fuchen (1989: 206–228) provides the model; another example among many is Zhu Zhanyan who writes: “Under the influence of Wei-Jin Xuanxue, Ge Hong used you/wu to explain the relationship between ‘form’ and ‘spirit.’ What he called ‘form’ referred to the human body-shape, and what he called ‘spirit’ referred to spiritual awareness … From a functional point of view, ‘shape’ and ‘spirit’ are the two sides of a single structure of existence, and both are indispensable. Between them, ‘shape’ is the material carrier of human life, and ‘spirit’ is the controlling master of human life. ‘Shape’ and ‘spirit’ are mutually independent and harmonious. They manifest as actual living life but when they become separated, it means that the original life ruptures and ceases to exist.” Zhu 2009: 58. Still, by far the best study of which I am aware on Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu is Li Zongding who states that, while the “form-spirit” issue was long-standing in previous Chinese philosophy, it was primarily Ge Hong who transformed it from a “dualism” (er yuan lun 二元論) to a “monism” (yi yuan lun 一元論). Li 2012: 84 and passim.

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Because human existence is characterized as “getting the One,” comprising the togetherness of you/wu in the transformed state of body and spirit, human beings are related to mystery as any human is related to their lineage ancestors. It is no accident that Ge Hong uses the term “stands” (li 立) to describe the presence of spirit in body, because it directly parallels the wording of Daodejing chapter 25, which states: “There is a thing born in chaos and which was born before heaven and earth. Empty and still, it stands on its own.” As the body of Dao “stands” in the cosmogony, so do the bodies of human beings “stand” in the cosmology, further cementing a direct one-to-one connection between you/wu and spirit-body. Human beings, born last in the cosmogonic sequence together with all other things and beings, manifest the purity of the eternal and primordial togetherness of you/wu in their natal reception of the One. However, they remain several steps removed from the mystery; because of this, their individual manifestation of the togetherness of body-spirit is extremely tenuous and liable to ruination. When that togetherness splits, it is due to the human bias of preferring either body over spirit or spirit over body. The former bias is a virtually inevitable consequence for people living in society, given the inherent pressures and seductions of pleasure, power, and profit, and Ge Hong expends much energy advocating for mountain reclusion. At the same time, he also recognizes the dangers of the latter bias, and he exhorts Daoist disciples to commit to yangsheng bodily cultivation to preserve their body, a necessary requirement for long-life, but also alchemy for the highest-level disciples, a necessary requirement for immortality. For example, in chapter 3 (duisu 對俗) he writes: The Dao of humans is precisely to eat exquisite foods, to wear light and warm clothing, to indulge in sex, to enjoy high rank, to maintain keen hearing and sharp sight, to keep the bones and physique strong and powerful, to have an attractive and pleasant complexion … To abandon one’s wife and children, to live alone in the mountains and marshes, to live detached and transgress human reason, like a clod having no other neighbors than trees and rocks, is also not to be encouraged.

人道當食甘旨, 服輕暖, 通陰陽, 處官秩, 耳目聰明, 骨節堅強, 顏色悅懌 ⋯⋯ 若委棄妻子, 獨處山澤, 邈然斷絕人理, 塊然與木石為鄰, 不足多也 (Wang 1996: 52–53).

Ge Hong’s discourse on you/wu now moves into a discussion of death. He turns to the Zhuangzi’s theory of qi as life, which also held that the body contains the spirit, but it further held that when the body exhausts due to the failings of qi, then the spirit simply disperses into the cosmos, leaving the body to decay; this does not affect the qi, which continues to exist in different forms.18 Ge Hong’s adoption of this theory does not mean that he resigns himself to the inevitably of death; for him,  As previously noted, Ge Hong’s “Daoist” thought is often seen as contradictory to the Zhuangzi’s “Daoist” thought, but his adoption of the Zhuangzi’s theory of qi as life to explain death is one clear counter-argument against that view; to quote Yuan Long: “The Zhuangzi thought that the life-vitality of all beings is attached to the body, and that the body depends on qi to be born, but qi is not an ultimate existent, it was produced ‘amidst the chaos’ and was born from Dao. Therefore, in the Zhuangzi’s philosophical thought, Dao has ultimate reality, it indeed is ultimate reality, and qi has no meaning in terms of an ultimate body. Ge Hong inherited the Zhuangzi’s philosophical notion of Dao as the one thing-in-itself of the entire cosmos, and he greatly enriched and developed the philosophical content of the Zhuangzi’s notion of qi in order to resolve the ways that Daoism engaged the core issues of life and death.” Yuan 2015: 14.

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death is the inevitable reality for all humans who are unable to maintain the One. When death does occur, it is due to the exhaustion of qi, the extreme consequence of the bias for the body over spirit, or spirit over body. However, those capable of maintaining the One, the unity of body/spirit, will go on to achieve long-life and even immortality, but they are few and far between. Ge Hong, in chapter 5, writes: Human beings live in the breast of qi, and qi is in the breast of humans. From heaven and earth to the ten thousand things, there is nothing that does not depend on qi for life. Those who master the circulation of qi internally use it to nurture their bodies, and externally use it to banish evils. Common people, however, daily use their qi without understanding this.

夫人在氣中, 氣在人中, 自天地至於萬物, 無不須氣以生者也。善行氣者, 內以養 身, 外以卻惡, 然百姓日用而不知焉 (Wang 1996: 114).

In relation to his discussion of body-spirit, he writes in chapter 1 that: When mystery is present, joy is inexhaustible. When mystery departs, the body deteriorates and the spirit dies.

玄之所在, 其樂不窮。玄之所去, 器弊神逝 (Wang 1996: 1).

He goes on to say: The mystery-Dao is attained internally but lost externally. The spirit makes use of it, but the body forgets it. These are the essential precepts of the meditation of the mystery-Dao.19

夫玄道者, 得之乎內, 守之者外, 用之者神, 忘之者器, 此思玄道之要言也 (Wang 1996: 2).

Ge Hong offers a series of images that illustrate how the original unity and succeeding ruination of the togetherness of the body and spirit occur, such as the following from chapter 5: To compare it to a dike, when the dike crumbles the waters cannot be retained. To compare it to a candle, when the candle melts the flame no longer exists. When the body is exhausted, the spirit disperses; when the qi is worn out, life ends. When the root is worn out yet the branches are abundant, the green leaves the tree. When qi is weary but desires are dominant, the pure soul departs from the body. For one who has passed, there is no time of return, and the decrepit is devoid of the principle of life. One who comprehends Dao is deeply affected by this.

故譬之於堤, 堤壞則水不留矣。方之於燭, 燭糜則火不居矣。身勞則神散, 氣竭 則命終。根竭枝繁, 則青青去木矣。氣疲欲勝, 則精靈離身矣。夫逝者無反期, 既朽無生理, 達道之士, 良所悲矣 (Wang 1996: 110).

Several sections of the Daodejing discuss death in terms of the exhaustion of the body, but there are also several sections that, in stark contrast, discuss long-life in terms of the preservation of the body, and Ge Hong’s writings share these same features. However, only a few passages from the Daodejing mention the spirit, and  This passage shows one of Ge Hong’s uses of the phrase “mystery-Dao” that was briefly mentioned above, and it is worth noting Li Zongding’s further comments about it: “The change from ‘mystery’ to ‘mystery-Dao’ marks an important transition from philosophy to religion, and Ge Hong often combines mystery with other words, as for example in ‘mystery-Dao,’ ‘mystery-One,’ and other new words. On the one hand, he used the ethereal and profound meaning of ‘mystery’ to explain the wondrous Dao and the wondrous One; on the other hand, he also had ‘mystery-One’ refer to the methods of cultivating immortality.” Li 2012: 37.

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they are almost always in the context of yangsheng techniques, especially that of “holding the One” (bao yi 抱一), that intend to maintain the spirit together with the body, resulting in long-life. For example, Daodejing chapter 10, which uses a technical term “bright spirit” (ying po 營魄), and chapter 22 respectively state: In keeping the bright spirit and embracing the One, can you do it without letting them leave?

載營魄抱一, 能無離 (Zhu 2000: 37). The sage embraces the One and is the model for the world.

聖人抱一為天下式 (Zhu 2000: 92).

Ge Hong did not write in a vacuum, and there was a long history of philosophical debate concerning the relation between form and spirit beginning in the Warring States, as Li Zongding has superbly documented. He shows that the early thinkers considered four basic positions: neither the body nor the spirit continue to exist after death; the spirit continues but the body perishes; the body continues but the spirit perishes; and the body and spirit together continue to exist without death. Ge Hong primarily adhered to the third position and relied on the Zhuangzi’s theory of qi as life to explain it, but he also maintained a strong commitment to the fourth position, but only for those capable of fusing the spirit and body together either permanently or for a period counted in centuries by way of yangsheng and alchemy; he called those people xian 仙. To become a xian is to lock the body into its eternal source, you, and the spirit into its eternal source, wu. When you/wu, in their phenomenal manifestation as form-spirit, are concretely fused in permanent co-existence, co-­presence, and co-terminality, the person attains the supreme goal of immortality. Li Zongding continues: Is that which is eternal without dying the form or the spirit, or the form permanently together with the spirit? Ge Hong's discussion of the relationship between form and spirit reflects the Daoist view of the divine xian at that time, and the discussion of the relationship between shape and spirit throughout the Six Dynasties was an important topic of debate. Ge Hong also used the metaphysical theories of you/wu and “branch and root” (ben mo 本末), but his ideas were not identical with mainstream Xuanxue, because he brought forth the unique views of Daoist immortality theory … Ge Hong's discussions of the interdependence of form and spirit on the surface appears to give equal importance to both shape and spirit, but in actual practice he gave a special emphasis to bodily cultivation and the corresponding theories of alchemical elixirs, because they could change the physical properties of the body so that it would never die (Li 2012: 60).

These “religious” views of Ge Hong could not be more different from the “philosophical” views of Wang Bi, who affirmed the ontological priority of wu over you. As Ge Hong gave equal priority to you/wu, he was able to write in chapter 1: Only the mystery-Dao can confer permanence.

其唯玄道可與為永 (Wang 1996: 1).

In two examples from chapter 2 (lunxian 論仙) he argues that: The xian either ascend to heaven or reside on earth, but what is essential is that they have achieved long-life. As for where they go or stay, each chooses according to their own aspirations … Those in the past who became xian would sometimes grow wings out of their bodies and, transforming, fly away. They had displaced the roots of what made them human and

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they acquired a new form, like the sparrow that transforms into a clam or the pheasant that transforms into an oyster.

仙人或昇天, 或住地, 要於俱長生, 去留各從其所好耳 ⋯⋯ 古之得仙者, 或身生羽 翼, 變化飛行, 失人之本, 更受異形, 有似雀之為蛤, 雉之為蜃 (Wang 1996: 14). According to the xian-scriptures, the highest disciples carry their bodies as they ascend into heaven; they are called heaven-xian. The middling disciples roam in the famous mountains, and they are called earth-xian.

按仙經云, 上士舉形昇虛, 謂之天仙。中士游於名山, 謂之地仙 (Wang 1996: 19–20).

And from chapter 18 we read: If they are stored there is life, if not there is death.

存之則在, 忽之則亡 (Wang 1996: 323).

5  Conclusion Standing at the historical cross-roads between what has been called Daoist philosophy and Daoist religion, Ge Hong is also recognized as one of the great icons of the tradition of Wei-Jin Xuanxue. His outstanding contribution to Daoism, even to Chinese culture more generally, rests with his discourse on you/wu, through which he articulated a systematic and theoretical foundation for the pursuit of long-life and immortality grounded in the techniques of yangsheng and the methods of alchemy. As far as we can separate this discourse from the practices and goals that it was meant to justify, I hope to have revealed the powerful acumen that Ge Hong brought to his thoroughly Daoist reading of the Daodejing, and to have done so through a series of contextualized comparisons with Wang Bi’s Confucian reading of it. But this study remains primarily directed to the thought of Ge Hong, whose position should be recognized as of equal or near equal status with Laozi in the foundational history of Daoist thought and practice.

Bibliography Burik, Steven. 2010. “Thinking on the Edge: Heidegger, Derrida, and the Daoist Gateway.” Philosophy East and West, 64.4: 499–516. Creel, Herlee. 1970. What is Taoism? and Other Studies in Chinese Cultural History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Graham, A.C. 1959. “Being in Western Philosophy compared with Shi/Fei and Yu/Wu in Chinese Philosophy.” Asia Major, 7.1–2: 79–112. Graham, A.C. 1989. Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China. La Salle: Open Court Press. Hu, Fuchen 胡孚琛. 2006. “A General Account of Ge Hong’s Philosophical Thought: The Key to Researching the Religious Daoist Philosophy of the Baopuzi Inner Chapters 葛洪的哲学思想 概說: 抱朴子内篇中的道教哲學研究之一.” In Liu Gusheng 刘固盛, ed., Collected Research Papers on Ge Hong 葛洪研究論集, 151–163. Hubei: Huazhong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe.

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Hu, Fuchen 胡孚琛. 1989. The Daoist Religion of Immortality in the Wei-Jin 魏晋神仙道教. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Li, Songrong 李鬆榮. 2008. “Carefree Wandering and Becoming Immortal: Comparative Perspectives on Life-Death in the Zhuangzi and Inner Chapters of the Baopuzi 逍遥舆成仙: 莊 子, 抱朴子内篇生死關比較.” Anhui Daxue Xuekan, 32.4: 29–33. Li, Zongding 李宗定. 2012. The Inner Chapters of Ge Hong’s Baopuzi and Wei-Jin Xuanxue 葛洪 抱朴子内篇舆魏晉玄學. Taibei: Taiwan Xuesheng Shuju. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Michael, Thomas. 2005. The Pristine Dao: Metaphysics in Early Daoist Discourse. Albany: State University of New York Press. Michael, Thomas. 2011. “The That-Beyond-Which of the Pristine Dao: Cosmogony in the Liezi.” In Ronnie Littlejohn and Jeffrey Dippmann, eds., Riding the Wind with Liezi: New Essays on the Daoist Classic, 101–126. Albany: State University of New York Press. Michael, Thomas. 2015a. In the Shadows of the Dao: Laozi, the Sage, and the Daodejing. Albany: State University of New York Press. Michael, Thomas. 2015b. “Ge Hong’s xian: Private Hermits and Public Alchemists.” Journal of Daoist Studies, 8: 24–51. Michael, Thomas. 2016. “Mountains and Early Daoism in the Writings of Ge Hong.” History of Religions, 56.1: 23–54. Sun, Yiping 孫亦平. 2011. “Ge Hong and Wei-Jin Xuanxue 葛洪與魏晋玄学.” Zhongguo Zhexue, 21: 55–60. Teng, Wei 滕巍 and Tang Juan 唐娟. 2011. “Analyzing the Inner Chapters of Ge Hong’s Baopuzi and Wei-Jin Intellectual’s Doctrine of Life-Consciousness 葛洪抱朴子内篇與魏晋士人的生 命意識論析.” Xinan Nongye Daxue Xuebao, 9.9: 73–76. Wang, Xiaoyu 王孝魚. 2004. Collected Explanations on Zhuangzi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Ming 王明. 1996. Collated Annotations on the Inner Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子内篇校 釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuhu. Xu, Kangsheng 許抗生. 2008. “Research into Ge Hong’s Religious Thought 葛洪道教思想研 究.” In Yang Shihua 楊世華, ed., Ge Hong Research, second series 葛洪研究二集, 23–39. Hubei: Huazhong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe. Yuan, Long 袁朗. 2015. “A Preliminary Analysis of Ge Hong’s Reception of the Zhuangzi as Seen in the Baopuzi Inner Chapters 葛洪抱朴子内篇對莊子的接受淺析.” Wenxue Yanjiu, 3: 12–15. Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe. Zhong, Sheng 钟盛 and Luo Yi 罗毅. 2008. “Ge Hong’s Judgement of Xuanxue as Seen from the Baopuzi 從抱朴子看葛洪對玄學的批判.” Zhonghua Wenhua Luntan, S1: 154–159. Zhu, Qianzhi 朱謙之. 2000. Annotated Examination on the Laozi 老子校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Zhu, Zhanyan 朱展焱. 2009. “Viewing the Philosophical Elucidation of Religious Daoism from its oncept of Life: Taking the Inner Chapters of Ge Hong’s Baopuzi as the Core 道教生命觀看的 哲学闡釋: 以葛洪抱朴子內篇為中心.” Jiangxi Shehui Kexue, 11.1: 58–61.

Thomas Michael is Associate Professor in the School of Philosophy at Beijing Normal University. He specializes in Daoist philosophy and Chinese shamanism. In addition to many articles and book chapters on each subject, he is also the author of The Pristine Dao: Metaphysics in Early Daoist Discourse (2005) and In the Shadows of the Dao: Laozi, the Sage, and the Daodejing (2015).

Chapter 24

The Xuanxue Lifestyle: Self-Cultivation and Qi Practices Livia Kohn

1  Introduction From the very beginning of the Daoist tradition, self-cultivation methods have played a key role in its expression and development, closely linked with even its most fundamental works, the Daodejing 道德經, the “Neiye” 內業 chapter of the Guanzi 管子, and the Zhuangzi 莊子.1 Summarily known as techniques of “nourishing life” (yangsheng 養生) or “nourishing inner nature” (yangxing 養性), they serve to enhance “longevity” (shou 壽) or “long life” (changsheng 長生) and have the potential to result in “not dying” (busi 不死). First systematically documented in the medical manuscripts unearthed at Mawangdui 馬王堆 (see Harper 1998), these practices originally were a form of preventative medicine that helped people recognize and rectify early signs of energetic imbalance, making it possible to achieve a high level of well-being into extended old age. Longevity techniques work through lifestyle modification in many different ways: diet, herbal remedies, sexual hygiene, deep breathing, physical movements, and mental purification. Working along the same continuum of the qi-household of the human body, they are used in various dimensions: to heal people from diseases, to help them maintain health and recover youth, and to attain transcendent, spiritual states. The human body consists of vital breath (qi 氣) and functions

 For the importance of self-cultivation in ancient Daoism in general, see Michael 2005, 2015a, 2015b. On its central role in the Daodejing, see Ames and Hall 2003. On the “Neiye” as a key manual that makes Daodejing ideas accessible in practice, see Roth 1999. For self-cultivation in the Zhuangzi, see Kohn 2014; Wang 2014; Santee 2008 and 2011.

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through the continuous interchange of inborn primordial or prenatal qi that connects the person to the cosmos with earthly or postnatal qi that is taken in through breath, food, and human interaction. Primordial qi is lost as and when earthly qi is insufficient, and earthly qi becomes superfluous as and when primordial qi is complete. The purpose of self-cultivation, then, is to maintain a harmonious balance of qi functioning, activating its latent, non-being qualities within the realm of physical being and thereby reaching closer to perfect health, personal integration, and cosmic oneness.

2  Cultivation Works The practices typically work by supporting a way of being soft and gentle, increasing flexibility and suppleness rather than muscle strength and forceful stamina. This links to chapter 75 of the Daodejing with its central emphasis on softness and weakness: At birth, humans are soft and supple. At death, they are stiff and rigid. All beings, even grasses and trees, at birth are supple and pliant. At death, they are withered and hard. Thus, stiff and rigid are companions of death, weak and soft are companions of life. A strong army will not win, a strong tree will break. The strong and great are always inferior, the weak and soft are always superior.

人之生也柔弱, 其死也堅強。萬物草木之生也柔脆, 其死也枯槁。故堅強者死之 徒, 柔弱者生之徒。是以兵強則不勝, 木強則共。強大處下, 柔弱處上 (Lou 1999: 185–186).

Later also evolving into a key feature of traditional Chinese martial arts, medical prevention, and healing exercises, as well as modern taiji quan 太極拳 and qigong 氣功, longevity techniques encourage not only an attitude of gentle flow but also a fundamental way of working with the body, of realizing physical perfection as part of reaching closer to Dao, and attaining oneness within self and cosmos. Other major characteristics include their application of latent tendencies, often described in terms of non-being, as well as their emphasis on balance and the avoidance of all extremes, both physical and psychological. As chapter 24 of the Daodejing describes it: Who tiptoes does not stand tall; who cross-steps does not walk. Who display himself is not enlightened; who asserts himself is not prominent. Who boasts of himself is not meritorious; who praises himself does not live long. In relation to Dao, these are like excess food and extraneous action. All beings hate that, and those who have Dao turn away from them.

企者不立; 跨者不行; 自見者不明; 自是者不彰; 自伐者無功; 自矜者不長。其在 道也, 曰餘食贅行。物或惡之, 故有道者不處 (Lou 1999: 60–61).

All these various actions have a negative impact on the body, be they simple ways of movement or more complex dimensions of interacting in society. As people function in an excessive, immoderate, unbalanced manner, they breathe with undue energy and come to shorten their life expectancy, moving further and further away

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from Dao. The goal of longevity techniques, then, is to reverse this tendency and bring people back into perfect harmony, to realize oneness as an embodied and personally activated function. Self-cultivation requires a high degree of self-awareness and personal reflection. It, therefore, can happen only in a sphere of leisure and detachment and tends to be the prerogative of aristocrats. As the medical manuscript Yinshu 引書 (Stretch Book)2, unearthed at Mount Zhangjia 張家山 and dated to 186 BCE, notes in its concluding section, there is a clear distinction between “noble people” of the upper classes, who fall ill because of uncontrolled emotions such as anger and joy as well as excessive consumption of food and drink, and “base people” whose conditions tend to be caused by too much labor, hunger, and thirst. It further notes that poor folks have no opportunity to learn the necessary longevity techniques and, therefore, contract numerous diseases and die an early death. The methods, it makes clear, were very much the domain of the aristocracy and the upper classes (Harper 1985: 381; Engelhardt 2001: 217; Kohn 2008: 61). Typically, in ancient society, self-cultivation practitioners tended to withdraw from social connections. Privateers, hermits, and recluses, followed the Daodejing (chapter 52) injunction to “close the mouth and shut the doors, and to the end of life there will be peace without toil 塞其兌, 閉其門, 終身不勤” (Lou 1999: 139). Through elimination of desires, an extremely simple lifestyle, and the practice of longevity techniques, they strove for complete merging with cosmic oneness. Typically, lesser aristocrats who refused official positions and left society behind, they appear in chapter 15 (liuyi 刻意) of the Zhuangzi as retirees who focus on long life through the practice of various breathing and physical exercises, as “scholars of rivers and seas” who are “unhurried idlers” with the main goal of non-action, and as mountain recluses “who condemned the world,” “sullen and critical, indignation their whole concern” (see Guo 1985: 537–539). Some, therefore, retired to their landed estates, favoring privacy over public service; they despaired of the greed and avarice of society and protected their inner nature against outside demands. Others removed themselves from society because it forced them into moral compromise but might come back to serve if and when the time was right. Yet others left for the mountains, where wild animals and indigenous tribes roamed, seeking to follow simpler, even animal ways of life. Thus, for example, Shan Bao 單豹 in chapter 19 (dasheng 達生) of the Zhuangzi “lived among the cliffs, drank only water, and didn’t go after gain like other people. He went along like that for seventy years and still had the complexion of a young child” (Guo 1985: 646). By the same token, in chapter 15 of the Zhuangzi the long-lived Pengzu 彭祖 assembled a group of followers who would “huff and puff, exhale and inhale, blow out the old and draw in the new, do the bear-hang and the bird-stretch, and were interested only in long life” (Guo 1985: 535). Xuanxue thinkers followed closely in the footsteps of their venerable forebears, inheriting not only their aristocratic status and conflicted relationship to

 For more, see Lo 2014.

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officialdom, but also their proclivity toward an engagement with issues of oneness and inner harmony, as well as their pursuit of self-cultivation and application of longevity techniques. Some of them, moreover, have left behind writings that specify just how to live a healthy and well-cultivated life.

3  Xuanxue Writings A key document in this context is the Long Life Compendium (Yangsheng Yaoji 養 生要集) by the aristocrat, official, and Xuanxue thinker Zhang Zhan 張湛 (fl. 4th C.  CE). He is best known as the first and most important commentator to the Liezi 列子, which supports a similar view of the body (Sakade 1986a: 10; Kohn 2011).3 Zhang Zhan, also called Chudu 處度, does not have a biography in the dynastic histories despite the fact that he wrote several philosophical Xuanxue commentaries, authored two compendia on longevity practices, served as imperial secretary under the Eastern Jin, and was born into a family of senior officials under the Western Jin (Despeux 1989: 228; 2004). Rather, information about him is anecdotal, some found in the story collection A New Account of Tales of the World (Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語), some in the biographies of contemporary officials and later descendants. According to these sources, Zhang Zhan was philosophically minded and a follower of Xuanxue thinkers such as the Zhuangzi commentator Guo Xiang 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE), whom he frequently cites in his Liezi commentary. He also had medical knowledge and was eager to improve the qi in his residence by planting various kinds of pine trees. The History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書) biography of Fan Ning 范寧 further mentions that he was susceptible to eyestrain, for which he took a longevity recipe consisting of six ingredients: read less, think less, focus inward, scan outward, sleep late, and go to bed early. He was to mix these ingredients with qi and take them to heart for seven days. This would enhance his vision and extend his life (Stein 1999: 101). An imperial official and well-educated thinker with time on his hands, Zhang Zhan engaged in wide reading and practiced long life techniques. He had the material cushion necessary to indulge his interest in medical learning and was well connected to officials and literati. The practices he mentions were probably well known and widely used at the time, and he may well have put together the Yangsheng Yaoji to help his fellow aristocrats stay healthy and live moderately despite their riches and newly found leisure, thus using long life practices predominantly for this-­ worldly advancement. 3  The first mention of authorship of the commentary is in the bibliographic section of the History of the Sui Dynasty (Suishu 隨書) of the seventh century. Despeux 1989: 228. Zhang Zhan is a common name, and it is also remotely possible that the author was an official in northern China, known as Zhang Ziran 張自然. Zhu 1986: 102. See also Sakade 1986b.

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The Yangsheng Yaoji has not survived as an independent text but was reconstituted on the basis of fragments.4 It consists of ten sections: harboring spirit, loving qi, maintaining the body, practicing exercises, proper language, food and drink, bedchamber arts, rejecting common habits, herbal medicines, and taboos and prohibitions. The section on “practicing exercises” is comparatively short and focuses dominantly on maintaining a harmonious qi-flow. In contrast to this, the sections on food and sexual activities are extensive and very detailed (Stein 1999: 187–222). “Food and drink” notes the best way to eat in the different seasons, provides remedies for overeating and intoxication, outlines the optimal diet during pregnancy, and suggests the healthiest way to eat various delicacies, such as game, pheasant, pork, scallops, and exotic fruits and vegetables. The section on “bedchamber arts” similarly gives seasonal advice and suggests that one better abstain after overeating or getting drunk. The text clearly addresses members of the upper classes with the leisure and material means to indulge their preferences and a correspondingly great need to stay healthy despite their indulgence. Another major protagonist in this context is the would-be alchemist and scholar Ge Hong 葛洪 (284–364 CE), who called himself Baopuzi 抱朴子 (the Master who embraces simplicity). Unlike the northern émigré Zhang Zhan, Ge Hong was born into the southern aristocracy and grew up in a small town near Jiankang 健康. Inspired by a family interest for otherworldly pursuits, he became a disciple of the hermit and alchemist Zheng Yin 鄭陰 at the age of fourteen and studied with him for five years. After serving in the imperial administration in various minor capacities, he resigned his position to study longevity and immortality full time (Pregadio 2000: 167). He wandered around the country in search of ancient manuscripts and learned masters, then came home to write down his findings. In his autobiography—the first of its kind in Chinese literature—he describes how he eschewed official positions and even avoided social interaction with his peers because his one aim in life was to become immortal, i.e., reach a state of perfect health and extended longevity that would allow the concoction of an alchemical elixir and ascension to the heavens (Schipper and Verellen 2004: 70–71). For Ge Hong, immortality was reached not so much through religious observances, such as prayers and rituals, although he certainly believed in the magical efficacy of 4  The text appears to have been lost after the rebellion of An Lushan 安錄山 in 755 CE. Barrett 1980: 172. Fragments and citations appear mainly in three sources: (1) the Origins and Symptoms of Medical Disorders (Zhubing Yuanhou lun 諸病源候論), a medical compendium in fifty chapters put together by a committee headed by the court physician Chao Yuanfang 巢元方and presented to Emperor Yang of the Sui 隨 dynasty in 610 CE. Despeux and Obringer, trans. 1997; (2) the Record on Nourishing Inner Nature and Extending Life (Yangxing Yanming lu 養性延命錄) in Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏), 838; Kohn, trans. 2012. The Yangxing Yanming lu is a Daoist collection of meditative, breathing, and physical practices in two chapters ascribed to Sun Simiao 孫 思邈 and probably of the mid-seventh century, which also lists the titles of the ten sections; (3) the Essential Medical Methods (Ishinpō 醫心方)—Hsia et  al. trans. 1986—an extensive Japanese medical collection by the court physician Tamba no Yasuyori 丹波瀨康 (912–995 CE), which was presented to the emperor in 984. Sakade 1989: 3–9. The fragments are collected, translated, and analyzed in Stein 1999.

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talismans and incantations. Rather, for him the desired state could be attained by laying a groundwork of long life through longevity techniques—exercises, breathing, dietetics, and meditations—followed by the great alchemical endeavor, which alone could lead to ultimate immortality (Pregadio 2006: 125). All alchemical work, moreover, had to be undertaken in secrecy in the seclusion of the mountains and required numerous costly ingredients and holy scriptures, revealed either by the gods in séances or by hermit masters after the passing of strict tests. Although he never compounded any elixir by the time he compiled his writings, hagiographic accounts suggest that he later retired to Mount Luofu 羅浮山 late in life to devote himself fully to the great work (Ware 1966: 6–21). Ge Hong’s most important work is the Inner Chapters of the Master who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi Neipian 抱朴子內篇) (see Daozang, 1185; Ware 1966) which was first completed in 317 CE, that is, “before the influx of refugees from the north was to profoundly change the culture and religion of the Jiangnan region” (Schipper and Verellen 2004: 71). A twenty-chapter compendium on the techniques and practices of the immortals, it provides an overview of the religious, medical, exorcistic, and esoteric practices prevalent at the time, partly based on passages copied or summarized from scriptures that Ge Hong had received from Zheng Yin (Robinet 1997: 78–113). The text describes how to use protective measures that will keep demons and evil spirits at bay; how to reach alignment with the Yin 陰 and Yang 陽 energies of the universe; how to absorb the qi of the sun and the moon; how to use various herbs and minerals to improve health and extend life; how to attain magical qualities such as being in several places at once, becoming invisible, flying in the air, knowing the future, and reading other peoples’ thoughts; and how to prepare various kinds of cinnabar elixirs which would transform one into an immortal or bestow very long life on earth and power over life and death (Needham et al. 1976 (81–113). The book discusses long life methods as preliminary to alchemy and emphasizes the anti-social nature of this endeavor. As Ge Hong says in chapter 5: [Those who nourish life] … settle far away, stay in hiding, conceal their shining radiance, and veil their elegance. They repress the eye’s desire to see and banish the beauties that weaken their vision. They plug the ear’s very thought of sound and put afar the music which only confuses hearing. They cleanse the dark mirror of the mind, maintain a feminine approach, and embrace unity. Concentrating on their qi to produce softness, they fortify themselves with calm and impartiality. They dismiss the evils of joy and sadness; they are alien to the glory and disgrace associated with success and failure; and they lop away rich living that later turns to poison (Ware 1966: 99).

是以遐棲幽遁, 韜鱗掩藻, 遏欲視之目, 遣損明之色, 杜思音之耳, 遠亂聽之聲, 滌 除玄覽, 守雌抱一. 專氣致柔, 鎮以恬素, 遣歡戚之邪情, 外得失之榮辱, 割厚生之 臘毒 (Wang 1996: 111).

In contrast to this rejection of social involvement, the text also has several short spin-offs that, like Zhang Zhan’s work, address a wider aristocratic audience, hoping to help them with health issues and to guide them away from gluttony and indulgence. Ge Hong, therefore, without giving up on the basic principles of the health regimens, replaces the pursuit of official fame and wholesome indulgence with the search for alchemical recipes that would grant an extensive long life, magical powers over self and others, and the eventual ascension to the immortals.

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4  Moderation All these various texts agree that the base of health and long life is moderation. They warn against excesses and provide remedies to improve bodily functions through diet and herbal decoctions, supported by prescriptions for proper sleep, hygiene, sexual activity, and exercise. For example, the Yangsheng Yaoji recommends that practitioners avoid specific combinations of food, such as anything hot and cold, sweet and raw, or more specifically, wheat and oats, onions and honey, celery and pig’s liver, dried ginger and rabbit (Stein 1999: 200–204). They should use alcohol sparingly (the Bamboo Grove clique would obviously disapprove!), boil water before drinking, and take care not to get cold when sweaty. The text also has specific recipes for beneficial food combinations, descriptions of the qualities and healing properties of herbs and food stuffs, as well as a series of instructions for pregnancy (Stein 1999: 208–210). In many cases, it provides specific remedies for certain conditions, notably stomach and digestive problems, including cramps, flatulence, constipation, and diarrhea (Stein 1999: 226–228). The overall goal of the presentation is to encourage people to live as healthily as possible, working closely in harmony with nature and the four seasons.5 Citing the ancient immortal Pengzu, the text says: The method of nourishing longevity consists mainly in not doing harm to oneself. Keep warm in winter and cool in summer, and never lose your harmony with the four seasons— that is how you can align yourself with the body. Do not allow sensuous beauty, provocative postures, easy leisure, and enticing entertainments to incite yearnings and desires—that is how you come to pervade the spirit. (Ishinpō 23.3a; Stein 1999: 169).

The most important advice is to remain moderate in everything, since any excess will harm the lungs and kidneys: to eat and drink with control, to stay away from various luxuries that lead to a weakness of qi, and to keep speech and laughter within limits (Stein 1999: 179, 186). Citing Pengzu once more, the text points out that heavy clothing and thick comforters, spicy foods and heavy meats, sexual attraction and beautiful women, melodious voices and enticing sounds, wild hunting and exciting outings, as well as all strife for success and ambition will inevitably lead to a weakening of the body and thus a reduction in life expectancy (Stein 1999: 178). In the same vein, various mental activities will harm key psychological forces and thus bring about a diminishing of qi, which takes one further away from Dao and reduces life. The text formulates this in a set of twelve things to do only in “little” increments. It says: Those who wish to preserve harmony and complete their perfection should: think little, reflect little, laugh little, speak little, enjoy little, anger little, delight little, mourn little, like little, dislike little, engage little, deal little. If you think much, the spirit will disperse. If you reflect much, the heart will be labored. If you laugh much, the organs and viscera will soar up. If you speak much, the ocean of qi will be empty and vacant. If you enjoy much, the gall bladder and bladder will take in outside  Ji Kang’s “Essay on Nourishing Life” (Yangsheng lun 養生論) also advocates this.

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wind. If you get angry much, the fascia will push the blood around. If you delight much, the spirit and heart will be deviant and unsettled. If you mourn much, the hair and whiskers will dry and wither. If you like much, the will and qi will be one-sided and overloaded. If you dislike much, the essence and power will race off and soar away. If you engage yourself much, the muscles and meridians will be tense and nervous. If you deal much, wisdom and worry will all be confused. All these attack people’s lives worse than axes and spears; they diminish people’s destiny worse that wolves and wolverines (Stein 1999: 170–171).

In other words, oneness with Dao manifests itself in mental stability and physical wellness, and any form of agitation or sickness indicates a decline in one’s alignment with the forces of nature. Thus, “going along with heaven and earth brings good fortune; going against heaven and earth brings misfortune” (Ishinpō 23.29b; Stein 1999: 182). The text notes: “Dao is qi. By preserving qi you can attain Dao, and through attaining Dao you can live long. Spirit is essence. By preserving essence, you can reach spirit brightness and once you have spirit brightness, you can live long” (Ishinpō 23.17ab; Stein 1999: 172). The major points on moderation made in the aristocratic Yangsheng Yaoji during the same period also appear in more religiously inspired texts that can be linked with the hermit tradition. Most important among them are two short synopses of the Baopuzi contained in the Daozang: Preserving Life and Nourishing Inner Nature as Practiced by Pengzu (Pengzu Shesheng Yangxing lun 彭祖攝生養性論) (see Daozang, 840 [abbr. Pengzu lun 彭祖論]; Kohn, trans. 2012) and Nourishing Life According to the Master who Embraces Simplicity (Baopuzi Yangsheng lun 抱朴子 養生論) (see Daozang, 842 [abbr. Yangsheng lun 養生論]; Kohn, trans. 2012). Although in title and edition they are linked with the hermit tradition and probably compiled on the basis of eremitic documents (see Schipper and Verellen 2004: 362, 357), they closely match Zhang Zhan’s attitude and recommendations. Like the Yangsheng Yaoji, they do not speak of mountain isolation, alchemy, or specific recipes, but emphasize the need for moderation in daily life. Thus, the Pengzu lun says: The method of nourishing life involves not spitting far and not walking hastily. Let the ears not listen to excess; let the eyes not look around extensively. Do not sit until tired; do not sleep beyond your needs. Wait until it is cold before you put on more clothes; wait until it is hot before you take them off. Do not get too hungry, because hunger harms the qi, and when you eat beware of overindulging. Do not get too thirsty before you drink and do not drink too deeply at a time. If you overeat, your bowels will be blocked and obstructed to the point of illness; if you drink too deeply, phlegm will accumulate into lumps.

是以養生之法, 不遠唾, 不驟行。耳不極聽, 目不久視, 坐不至疲, 臥不及極, 先寒 而後衣, 先熱而後解。不欲甚飢, 飢則敗氣。食誠過多, 勿極渴而飲, 飲誠過深。 食過則癥塊成疾, 飲過則痰癖結聚氣風 (Pengzu lun 2a; also in Yangsheng lun 2a; for Baopuzi see Wang 1996: 245; Ware 1966: 223).

The Yangsheng lun 1b proposes similar guidelines, which it supplements with a set of six exhortations to release mental strain and sensory involvement. It says: “Let go of fame and profit, limit sights and sounds, moderate material goods and wealth, lessen smells and tastes, eliminate lies and falsehood, and avoid jealousy and envy.” It then repeats the set of twelve “little” activities (Yangsheng lun 1b-2a) as found in the Yangsheng Yaoji and moves on to echo Pengzu’s warning against wearing “heavy clothes and thick sleeves,” eating “meats, fatty foods, and sweets and getting

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intoxicated,” and against enjoying “sexual infatuation, engagements with the opposite sex, and overindulgence in the bedroom,” similarly found in the mainstream work. Both the list of twelve “little” activities and the various concrete warnings appear also in the more technical Daoist work Wondrous Record of the Golden Casket on the Spirit Immortals’ Practice of Eating Qi (Shenxian Shiqi Jingui Miaolu 神仙食 氣金櫃妙錄) (see Daozang, 836, 16a [abbr. Jingui lu]).6 Like the other texts, it provides general prescriptions for moderation, but it is also more religious in nature in that it includes a number of specific exercises and recipes for spiritual attainments. The fact that general admonitions for moderation—physical, mental, and social—are equally found in the Yangsheng Yaoji, in off-shoots of the Baopuzi, and in more technical Daoist texts, shows that they formed part of an aristocratic culture of simplicity and self-control that favored working toward long life and well-being, but did not necessarily involve seclusion, devotion, or alchemical experiments. The two short synopsis texts, although contained in the Daozang today, like the Yangsheng Yaoji probably addressed a general audience among literati and did not necessarily form part of the hermit tradition. Still, both officials and hermits being literati, they participated in the same general culture of nourishing life and accordingly integrated aristocratic recommendations even into their more technical texts. The close connection among these various works is a formidable example of how aristocratic and hermit culture interlinked and interacted in medieval China. It contradicts the view that tends to see Daoist activities as the domain of outsiders and eccentrics, completely separate from dominant aristocratic culture.

5  Techniques for Healing In accordance with the understanding that moderation is key to a harmonious and healthy life, the texts further describe medical conditions as the result of excesses and uncontrolled behavior. For example, as the Pengzu lun points out, the different flavors associated with the five agents each not only impact the organ immediately associated with them but, when taken in excess, can also harm the organ associated with the phase that follows it in accordance with the controlling cycle. It says: Make sure to eat selectively of the five flavors. Too much sour food [wood] harms the spleen [earth]; too much bitter [earth] harms the lungs [metal]; too much pungent [metal] harms the liver [wood]; too much sweet [earth] harms the kidneys [water]; and too much salty [water] harms the heart [fire]. All these follow the system of the five agents as they invisibly underlie the four limbs. Following this, you can understand and penetrate the patterns.

五味不得偏耽, 酸多傷脾, 苦多傷肺, 辛多傷肝, 甘多傷腎, 鹹多傷心。此並應於五 行, 潛稟四體, 可理可究矣 (Pengzu lun 2b).

6  The Jingui lu is ascribed to Master Jingli 京里 or Jinghei 京黑 who supposedly lived in the fourth century. The text may be a Tang compilation but in content, it predates the Sui. See Loon 1984: 130; Schipper and Verellen 2004: 355. A modern Chinese presentation of its practices is found in Ma 1999.

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The text also notes that extreme emotions—such as joy and anger, love and hate, desire and anxiety, urgency and worry—trouble the spirit7 and that too much speaking and laughing harm the inner organs, while long periods of either sitting or standing burden muscles and bones, and excesses in sexual activities create ulcers and exhaustion. More specifically it says: Not sleeping and resting on time harms the liver. Moving and panting to fatigue and exhaustion harms the spleen. Holding the bow and pulling the string harms the muscles. Floating high and wading low harms the kidneys. Getting drunk and throwing up harms the lungs. Eating to fullness and sleeping on the side harms the qi. Galloping like a horse and running around wildly harms the stomach. Shouting and cursing with vile language harms the gallbladder. Failing to keep Yin and Yang in proper exchange causes ulcers. Lacking balance in bedchamber activities creates fatigue and exhaustion.

寢寐失時則肝傷, 動息疲勞則脾傷, 挽弓引弩則筋傷, 沿高涉下則腎傷, 沉醉嘔吐 則肺傷, 飽食偃臥則氣傷, 驟馬步走則胃傷, 喧呼請罵則膽傷。陰陽不交則瘡痍 生, 房室不節則勞瘠發 (Pengzu lun 1b).

These effects, moreover, are not visible immediately but build up over time. Moving gradually from the outer to the inner body (Lo 2000: 28), the various excesses accumulate to diminish qi, which controls the bones, marrow, and brain, and at the same time cause confusion in the spirit, the psychological force associated with the heart and the “ultimate master of the five organs” (Pengzu lun 2b). To prevent this, according to the Jingui lu, it is essential for long life followers to nurture the spirit by maintaining an attitude of awe and care. Awe (you 憂) and care (wei 畏), it says, “are the gateway of life and death, the key to rites and good teaching, the cause of existing and perishing, the root of good and bad fortune, as well as the prime source of all auspicious and inauspicious conditions 故憂畏者, 生死之門, 禮教之主, 存亡之 由, 禍福之本, 吉凶之元也” (Jingui lu 14b). If lost, moreover, “the mind will be confused and not cultivated, the body will be hectic and not at peace, the spirit will be scattered, the qi will go beyond all bounds, and will and intention will be deluded 若失其憂畏, 則心亂而不治, 形躁而不寧, 神散而黑越, 志蕩而意昏” (Jingui lu 14b). This condition, which we would describe as stress today, is accordingly the ultimate antithesis to long life and the preservation of health. To remedy or prevent these problems, the Pengzu lun and Yangsheng lun both recommend regular exercise of the body, moderation in food and drink, and the cultivation of a serene mind. Beyond this, the Jingui lu also provides specific exercises that create a sense of balance and help to alleviate any problems that may have appeared. The most basic among them is a breathing practice called “guiding the qi” (xingqi 行氣) which serves to balance the overall energies in the body. The text says: Lie down flat on your back, make your hands into fists, keep your feet about 4–5 inches apart and your shoulders about 4–5 inches from the pillow. Breathe softly for four sets of 90 repetitions, i.e., 360 times. Like a soft robe, all your bones and joints begin to dissolve, and you feel the qi like a cloudy vapor flowing through the body, pervading the meridians and arteries, moving all around, rich and moist, lubricating and enhancing skin, organs, and intestines.

 This brings to mind not only the works of Ji Kang, but the Xiang’er commentary to the Daodejing. For more on the latter, see Ronnie Littlejohn’s chapter in this Companion. 7

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正偃外握固, 两足間相去四五寸, 两臂間相去亦四五寸, 去枕, 微息四九三百六十 息。如委衣, 骨节皆解。初為勢至三十息後, 自轉易, 覺炁如雲行體中, 經管周身, 濡潤形體, 澆灌皮膚, 五藏六府 (Jingui lu 4b).

In this relaxed, meditative state of deep breathing, the text continues, the qi flows smoothly, the body is calm, and the various emotions are dissolved. In deep harmony, Dao can manifest itself. The breath, moreover, should be subtle and long, creating peace among the inner organs and sends all diseases into retreat. “The qi in perfect alignment, the body light and strong, you reach high old age and can live forever 三炁和則形輕轻强壽老, 証見遂長生矣” (Jingui lu 5a). On the other hand, if there is some imbalance in the body, the breathing technique can be modified according to different kinds of exhalations, which include those already mentioned in the medical manuscripts and later part of the Six Breaths (liuzi jue 六字訣): chui 吹, xu 噓, and hu 呼, i.e., the sharp, gentle, and open-­ mouthed expulsion of air. Unlike the manuscripts, though, which prescribe chui for ailments in chest or abdomen, xu to provide cooling, and hu as a supplement to the other breaths, the Jingui lu defines chui as a warming breath to be used for cold conditions, hu as a cooling breath to expel heat, and xu as a solvent to disperse blockages (Jingui lu 6a). In addition, it also lists three further breaths, xi 嘻, he 呵, and si 呬, thus completing the classic list of the Six Breaths (Despeux 2006: 40; 1995). It notes that xi helps to dispel wind or pain, he removes anger and calm the qi, and si dissolves all sorts of extremes. Knowing how to recognize the various states of the energetic body and to apply the correct breath for each situation thus allows the establishment of perfect balance and harmony, the foundation of health and long life. As this first exercise indicates, the Jingui lu addresses people who are interested not only in basic healing but also in extended longevity and even transcendence. Its practices represent an advanced and more meditative level of health restoration that can either complement and enhance healing or support the pursuit of higher attainments, such as extending life beyond its natural span, acquiring magical powers, and ascending to the otherworld. In this respect, the exercises in the Jingui lu perform a function not unlike longevity techniques in later Daoist systems, which too are at the borderline between medical practice and spiritual attainments. This is further borne out in thirty-three exercises listed next in the Jingui lu which combine deep breathing with various physical moves and positions, each geared to remedy suffering from a certain condition and focusing on a particular group of joints or muscles. In this context, the text presents some general guidelines: If the disease is in the throat or chest area, use a pillow seven inches high. If it is below the heart area, use a pillow four inches high. If it is below the navel, remove the pillow. To disperse qi, breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. To tonify qi, close the mouth to warm the qi, then swallow it. To relieve diseases of the head, lift the head. To relieve diseases of the hips or legs, lift the toes. To relieve diseases of the chest, bend the toes. To relieve cold, heat, or other imbalances in the stomach, hold the breath in the belly.

凡治諸病, 病在喉中胸中者, 枕高七寸; 病在心下者, 枕高四寸; 病在臍下者, 去 枕。以口出炁, 鼻納炁者, 名曰瀉; 閉口溫炁咽之者, 名曰補。欲引頭病者仰頭, 欲 引腰腳病者抑足十指, 欲引胸中病者倪足十指, 欲引去腹中寒熱諸所不快者, 皆 閉炁, 脹腹欲息者 (Jingui lu 9a).

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The first group of practices, then, is done while “kneeling or sitting upright with pelvis engaged,” focusing entirely on the upper body and working the various muscles and joints systematically to relieve strain and tensions. It targets headaches, dizziness, qi-obstructions, and other problems in the torso. The implication is that while doing the exercises, often with eyes closed and breath held, practitioners use their intention to consciously guide the qi to the affected area, thus opening the body for healing. Unlike in the exercises found in the medical manuscripts, body movements are kept to a minimum, with just the head being turned and the arms being raised. The key emphasis is on breathing correctly, slowly, to the proper count, and for the correct number of repetitions. There is a clear increase in the internal experience of the body as qi, a more conscious focus on the energetic substructure of material existence. The next group aims at conditions in the chest and belly. The exercises are undertaken while sitting with a straight back and legs extended forward. The position, especially when supported with the hands pressing into the floor, as the text describes it, has the effect of pulling the shoulder blades together, opening the chest, and lengthening the back while releasing the hips and legs. It also dilates the channels running through the hands and purges the breath by exhaling through the mouth. In accordance with this effect, most exercises in this sequence affect the chest and stomach, removing constrictions from the lungs, smoothing the workings of the intestines, and helping with depression. This choice of ailments also reflects the system of traditional Chinese medicine, according to which the lungs are the Yin organ that matches the large intestine and the seat of the excessive emotion of sadness or melancholy. Obstructions in the lungs, intestinal problems, and depression are thus closely related in Chinese medical thinking and doing this series of seated exercises alleviates the entire complex. A special aspect is the use of “drumming,” the stimulation of the belly with slight taps or hits which is not only a form of abdominal massage but also activates the energy structure underlying the organs. Still undertaken today, this exercise is now known as “spin the ball” and involves inhaling fully, then rolling of qi up and down all through the belly and into the kidney area to the accompaniment of gentle taps (Johnson 2000: 686). A different kind of release is found in further groups of practices which are performed lying down. Face-down exercises provide general relief of tension in the body and a relaxing opening of the spines, while those executed while lying on the right and left sides to afford general relief for certain areas. As the text says: On your left: Exhale from the mouth and inhale through the nose. This removes all signs of unresolved blockages that have accumulated beneath the heart (#3). On your right: Inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth in small puffs, counting to ten. Then rub both hands together to generate heat and massage the stomach with them. This will make the qi descend and leave. It also removes pain from the hips and the skin and helps with depression (#6).

The complete set works all different parts of the body, whether listed in sequence according to basic position or taken individually to remedy various ailments. The dominant emphasis is on the flow of qi through the body—guided and controlled through the breath, activated and enhanced through specific postures, and consciously

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worked through directional intention. All three major factors in healing and exercise—body, mind, and breath—are strongly present here, integrated in oneness to allow practitioners to balance their qi and increase their health and cosmic connection.

6  Empowerment through Qi 氣 A more potent form of cosmic connection involves yet different regimens of qi-­ management with the aim of personal empowerment and body control, eventually leading to more transcendent states where aging would cease and food and drink be unnecessary. The practices listed for these advanced goals demand more dedication than the occasional healing and represent a further step away from ordinary society and the pleasures of the senses. It is thus not surprising that the Yangsheng Yaoji offers only tiny glimpses of this level of practice and that most detailed information comes from the more technical Daoist texts, the Baopuzi and the Jingui lu. To begin, practitioners have to arrange their schedule to fit their regimen. They have to get up early in accordance with the general rule, expressed in practically all Daoist and longevity texts since antiquity, that the universe like the human body is a living and breathing entity (Maspero 1981: 500). Creating the patterns of the circadian rhythm which govern human wake and sleep cycles, the cosmos has an inhalation or living breath (shengqi 生氣), which is dominant from midnight to noon, and an exhalations or dead breath (siqi 死氣), which controls the period between noon and midnight. For example, the Baopuzi says: “The circulating of qi should be undertaken at an hour when the qi is alive and not when it is dead” (Ware 1966: 139). Similarly, the Jingui lu notes that one should “always practice after midnight [and before noon] in the period of living qi … In this qi-practice, the time after noon and before midnight is called the period of dead qi. Do not practice then 常以夜半 後生炁之時 ⋯⋯ 凡行炁服炁, 日午已後, 夜半已前, 名爲死炁, 不可服用也” (Jingui lu 8a). Most exercises are accordingly scheduled to occur in the wee hours after midnight and around dawn, enhancing the quality of qi in the body through the rising energies of nature—a tendency that has continued to the present day, when most practitioners of qigong 氣功 and taiji quan 太極拳 come to the parks in the early morning. Beyond the hours of midnight and dawn, noon and dusk are also auspicious. Thus, the Yangsheng Yaoji notes that healing exercises and qi-cultivation should be undertaken several times a day for best results, preferably at the four hours zi 子, mao 茂, wu 午, and you 酉 which means at midnight, dawn, noon, and dusk (Stein 1999: 183). The Jingui lu echoes this and adds some subtle modifications based on the seasons and specific physical conditions. It says: For all absorption of qi, use the hours zi, wu, mao, and you—with certain exceptions: in the third month of winter, the zi hour [midnight] is not good because it is too cold; in the third month of summer, the wu hour [noon] is not good because it is too hot. In all cases, adjust your intention to slow breathing.

凡服炁取子午卯酉時服, 是也。如冬三月子時, 不可服, 爲寒也。夏三月午時, 不可 服之, 爲熱也。仍須以意消息大略.

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Also, if there is great cold in your belly, take in qi in the morning and at noon. If there is great heat, take it in at midnight and dawn. To practice in the third month when it is very cold, place a brazier in the room to warm it and get a sense of balance and harmony in your belly. When there is extreme heat in the summer, take in the qi of the moonlight so you feel fresh and cool.

若腹中大玲, 取近日炁及日午之炁, 若腹中大熱, 取夜半炁, 及平日一之炁服也。 凡服炁遇冬三月寒, 則於一小室中, 生炭火暖之, 服之則腹中沖和。如夏極熱時, 仍取月中炁服之, 則大凍矣 (Jingui lu 8ab).

Another version of practice, also found in the Jingui lu and the Baopuzi, and later taken up in the Qi Scripture on Embryo Respiration (Taixi Qijing 胎息氣經) (see Daozang, 819; Jackowicz 2006) of the Tang dynasty, is to practice throughout the day but to adjust the number of repetitions in accordance with the dominant hour: first light: 7 × 7; mid-morning: 4 × 4; last light: 7 × 7; mid-evening: 4 × 4;

sunrise: 6 × 6; noon: 9 × 9; sunset: 6 × 6; midnight: 9 × 9;

daybreak: 5 × 5 mid-afternoon: 8 × 8 dusk: 5 × 5 cock crow: 8 × 8

(Jingui lu 2a; for Baopuzi see Wang 1996: 267; Ware 1966: 245–246).8

This subtler use of qi in accordance with the cosmic patterns makes the body increasingly independent of food and drink, allowing practitioners to completely “avoid grain” (bigu 辟穀), i.e., to live without outside nourishment for prolonged periods (Arthur 2006: 91; 2013). For this, in addition to guiding the qi as described earlier, they hold the breath for extended periods—technically known as “enclosing the qi” (biqi 閉氣)—stimulate qi through various modes of self-massage, and swallow it as saliva. As the Jingui lu describes it, Set yourself up in a secluded chamber, with doors closed and curtains drawn, and with a restful bed, warm and secure. The pillow should be 2.5 inches high and support your neck so your head is level with your body. Lie down flat on your back, close your eyes, make your hands into fists, and hold your breath.

閉戶安林, 暖厚席褥, 枕高二寸半, 方與身平, 正身偃外, 瞑目閉炁. Now, allow the breath to stop in your chest and keep it so quiet that a down feather held before your nostrils will not move. Count to 300. Your ears will no longer hear, your eyes will no longer see, there will be no thoughts in your mind. Then exhale very slowly.

自止於胸隔, 以鴻毛着鼻上, 毛不動, 經三百息, 耳無所聞, 目無所視, 心無所思, 當 以漸除之耳 (Jingui lu 7b).

The text clearly states that the required prerequisite is a moderate and even eremitic lifestyle. It notes that if one eats “raw and cold food, the five strong vegetables, meat and fish, and tends to be given to joy and anger, sadness and rage,” the practice will  The adjustment of practice to the twelve double-hours of the day also echoes the contention in Chinese medicine that the twelve meridians each have a time of day when they are dominant and when they can either be treated most effectively or are most vulnerable. See Kohn 2005: 57. For various other hour systems used in qi-cultivation, see Maspero 1981: 501. On the Taixi Qijing, see Schipper and Verellen 2004: 368. 8

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not work and it will be next to impossible to hold the breath for anywhere near the required period. On the contrary, the technique might actually do harm, increasing the “ailments of qi as it battles and goes against the highest course.” To do the qiguiding properly, it is best to practice holding gradually, beginning with “counting to three, five, seven, and nine,” and eventually going on to 120 or more, in all cases counting silently and without moving the lips (Jingui lu 8a). The Baopuzi has a similar description, noting that what is counted during the holding period is the number of heart beats and that it is optimal to go on to higher numbers, even those in the thousands. It says: Those who begin to study qi-circulation must inhale through the nose and hold the breath. While it is held fast, the number of heartbeats is counted to 120. Then it is expelled gently through the mouth. Neither when expelling nor while inhaling the breath should you with your own ears hear it enter or leave. Much of it must always enter, and little should leave. Set a feather on the nose and mouth and exhale without making it move.

初學行炁, 鼻中引炁而閉之, 陰以心數至一百二十, 乃以口微吐之, 及引之, 皆不欲 令己耳聞其炁出入之聲, 常令入多出少, 以鴻毛著鼻口之上, 吐炁而鴻毛不動 為候也. Next, increase the time of retention in proportion to your practice. The number of heart beats should gradually go up to 1,000. When it reaches that, from being an old man you will become young again.

漸習轉增其心數, 久久可以至千, 至千則老者更少 (Wang 1996: 149; Ware 1966: 139).

As Maspero points out, this is only one method of counting the time of holding. Others include marking dots as big as grains of rice or dropping a set number of sticks. Some texts even suggest that it is best to have someone else there to keep track of the count (Maspero 1981: 464n17). In Western terms, about eighty heartbeats make one minute, so a count of 120 would mean holding the breath for about ninety seconds and a count of 300 about three or four minutes, which seems not unreasonable. Moving into the thousands, however, practitioners may well enter states of asphyxiation and oxygen deprivation, leading to a state of “ears no longer hearing and eyes no longer seeing,” as indicated in the Jingui lu. Also used in other cultivation practices, holding the breath is a key method to establishing control over the breathing patterns of the body and thus the autonomic nervous system, increasing diaphragmatic flexibility and enhancing breath capacity. It also increases tranquility and calmness of mind, since for the time of holding, the vibrational frequencies in the body stabilize and no mental input takes place. It is important, however, to increase the holding times slowly and carefully, since overlong holding will trigger a sympathetic nervous response and can lead to a renewed creation of stress. Not only concentrating and holding the qi within the body, practitioners also follow regimens that involve stimulating and enhancing it on the outside and in less subtle form. One such method, as already noted in the Yangsheng Yaoji, is the practice of self-massage, again usually undertaken in the early morning. To perform it, sit facing east, rub the hands together to generate heat, then press them over the eyes for two sets of seven repetitions. Next massage the face from top to bottom to eliminate pathogenic qi and increase facial glow. In addition, one can also rub from the forehead to the top of head for two sets of nine repetitions in an exercise called

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“preserving the niwan 泥丸” [palace at the center of the head]. Other variants include crossing the hands over the head to take hold of the opposite ear and pull the ears up and down for two sets of seven: this supposedly prevents deafness. Or one may rub the entire body from top to bottom to do a so-called dry wash (ganxi 乾洗), which eliminates obstructions, wind invasions, and headaches (Ishinpō 23.23ab; Stein 1999: 184–185). Yet another method that helps to establish control over the qi is swallowing the saliva. According to the Yangsheng Yaoji, in a room that is neither too cold nor too hot practitioners should begin by accumulating saliva in the mouth while breathing in, then rinse the mouth with a breath-saliva mixture called Jade Spring (yuquan 玉 泉) and swallow it consciously. Repeating this three times, one then clicks their teeth for two sets of seven, thereby refining one’s essence and enhancing qi (Ishinpō 23.22b–23a; Stein 1999: 183–184). Beyond general qi-enhancement, a more potent reason to swallow the saliva is that it will replace the need for food and drink. As the Baopuzi points out, this can be very effective. Once, when the daughter of a local official was four years old, a major disaster struck her home town and her parents had to abandon her in an old tomb. Three years later, the family returned to collect her bones for proper burial but they were in for a surprise: When they went and looked into the tomb, they found the girl still sitting there. On seeing her parents, she recognized them and was very happy, but they first thought she was a ghost. Only when they entered the tomb did they discover that she was indeed not dead. When asked how she had survived, she replied that when her initial food supplies were exhausted, she first became very hungry. On noticing a creature in the corner that stretched its neck and swallowed its breath, she tried doing the same thing and became less and less hungry.

廣定往視, 女故坐冢中, 見其父母, 猶識之甚喜。而父母猶初恐其鬼也, 父下入就 之, 乃知其不死。問之從何得食, 女言糧初盡時甚飢, 見冢角有一物, 伸頸吞氣, 試 效之, 轉不復飢 (Wang 1996: 48; Ware 1966: 57; see also Reid 1989: 174).

The creature turned out to be a large tortoise, an animal known for its exceptional longevity. By imitating its breathing and swallowing techniques, the little girl survived—in a manner also followed by many would-be immortals. The Jingui lu similarly emphasizes that swallowing saliva is a way of “eating and drinking spontaneously.” As adepts breathe softly and deeply and swallow the breath mixed with saliva, they “will never be hungry again” and can avoid grains for three to seven days. If they do not get dizzy during this time, they can extend the period for as long as three weeks, finding all the while that “qi and vigor increase daily.” After reaching this level, “if you want to eat, you can eat, and if you don’t want to eat, you can just breathe” (Jingui lu 3b). The text describes the practice as follows: Close the mouth and inhale. After taking in qi, swallow it. Do this for 360 times and you will not lose the method again. The more you do this, the better. If you can do it 1,000 times in a day, you can start to reduce your food intake, and after ten days you can give up food completely. After that, qi will always come in and not leave again. And if you maintain the intention that the qi be always full, you will find no need to eat for three days and yet feel satisfied in your stomach.

先合口引之, 納炁咽之, 满三百六十已上, 不得喊此。咽之欲多多益善, 能日咽至千, 益明。咽而食日喊一餐, 十日後能不食也。後炁常入不出, 意炁常飽, 不食三日, 腹中捐捐.

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Should you be hungry or need to urinate or have sex, pick nine ripe dates and take them one at a time in the morning and evening to satisfy your need for sustenance. However, if you don’t think of eating, you will have no such need. Should you use the dates, on the other hand, always keep the pit in your mouth for a while to accumulate more qi. This will also improve the saliva and other bodily fluids.

若飢, 或小便赤黃, 取好棗九枚, 若好脯如棗者九枚, 念食啖一枚, 若二枚, 至三枚, 一晝一夜, 無過此九棗。意中不念食者, 不須啖也。常含棗核受炁, 令口中行津 夜, 嘉 (Jingui lu 3b-4a).9

With the help of guiding, holding, and swallowing the qi, practitioners can thus gain a great deal of control over their bodies, becoming independent of outer nourishment and being able to live on pure qi for extended periods of time. They also gain the ability to project their qi outward and control natural elements and animals through their exhalation. The Baopuzi says: Exhale (xu 噓) at water, and it will flow backwards for several yards; xu at fire, and it will go out; xu at tigers or wolves, and they will crouch down motionless; xu at snakes, and they will coil up in awe.

噓水, 水為之逆流數步; 噓火, 火為之滅; 噓虎狼, 虎狼伏而不得動起; 噓蛇虺, 蛇虺 蟠而不能去 (Wang 1996: 150; Ware 1966: 139).

In addition, this potent exhalation can be used for healing. It can stop bleeding if someone has been wounded by a weapon and eliminate the poison from a snake or scorpion bite. More than that, the method can be applied over a distance, so that just the healing intention of the mind, coupled with a concentrated qi-exhalation and a pointing gesture with the hand—left hand for a male subject, right hand for a female—is sufficient to effect a cure. “People will get better immediately even if they are hundreds of miles away” (Ware 1966: 139). The power of qi, moreover, also extends to supernatural entities and demons. Already the Yangsheng Yaoji points out that curling the hands into fists and enclosing the qi can create an inner power that will keep demons at bay (Stein 1999: 184). The Baopuzi notes: By avoiding grain, one can become immune to weapons, exorcize demons, neutralize poisons, and cure illnesses. On entering a mountain, one can render savage beasts harmless; when crossing a stream, one will not be attacked by dragons. There will be no fear when plague strikes; and should a crisis or difficulty suddenly arise, one will know how to cope.

是以斷穀辟兵, 厭劾鬼魅, 禁禦百毒, 治救衆疾, 入山則使猛獸不犯, 涉水則令蛟龍 不害, 經瘟疫則不畏, 遇急難則隱形, 此皆小事, 而不可不知 (Wang 1996: 125; Ware 1966: 114–115). Sometimes evil demons or mountain spirits attack. They throw tiles or stones or burn our homes. At times they can be seen going to and from, while at other times only their sounds or voices can be heard. However, when practitioners use their qi-powers against them, all their activity ceases.

9  A number of later texts echo these early practices. For a collection and translation, see Huang and Wurmbrand 1987.

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或有邪魅山精, 侵犯人家, 以瓦石擲人, 以火燒人屋舍。或形見往來, 或但聞其聲 音言語, 而善禁者以炁禁之, 皆即絕, 此是炁可以禁鬼神也 (Wang 1996: 114; Ware 1966: 105–106).

The magical or supernatural powers acquired by successful practitioners of qi in many ways are similar to the abilities of shamans. They can heal the sick, exorcise demons or beasts, make rain or stop it, foretell the future, prevent disasters, call upon wild animals as helpers, and remain unharmed by water and fire, heat and cold. Control over the body, a subtle harmony with the forces of nature, as well as an easy relationship with gods and spirits, ghosts and demons, are an important characteristic of successful followers of longevity and immortality practice. In addition, the qi-powers may also involve feats that are more reminiscent of sorcerers and wizards. As pointed out in biographical notes in the Baopuzi as well as in Ge Hong’s collection of immortals biographies (Shenxian zhuan 神仙傳) (see Güntsch 1988; Campany 2002), masters of qi can be shape-changers who may appear in any form they please. They can multiply themselves into many different people, be present in more than one place at the same time. They can become visible and invisible at will and travel thousands of miles in an instant. They can make rivers flow backward and mountains tumble. Plants, animals, and people die at their command and come back to life if they tell them to do so. They transport buildings to far-off places, open up mountains and reveal grottoes. In all these arts, successful practitioners take their control of qi to the utmost, becoming one with the core power of the universe and essentially divine in nature. They go beyond humanity not just by separating themselves from ordinary society and attaining superb health and extended longevity, but even more so by perfecting their control over the energetic constellations of the universe.

7  Conclusion Taking all this information together, it becomes evident that the thinkers and followers of Xuanxue recovered more than just the abstract thought and conceptual worldview of the ancient “mysteries.” They also connected actively to their propagation of self-cultivation and embraced a lifestyle that involved the intentional, focused balancing and manipulation of qi. As documented in several key fourth-century texts associated with Xuanxue thinkers, this meant regulating daily life toward a fundamental attitude of moderation on both the physical and mental levels, embracing the values of softness, weakness, frugality, and sufficiency already emphasized in the Daodejing. It also resulted in a greater awareness of oneness as realized within the physical body, manifest in the early recognition of diseases and their targeted elimination with the help of dietary modifications, healing exercises, breathing practices, and systematic qi-guiding. Going beyond the health level of the practices, some might also enhance their cosmic connection by aligning their activities to the circadian rhythm and increase the control over their body, mind, and qi to reach higher spiritual states, advanced levels of transcendence, and semi-­magical powers.

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Kohn, Livia. 2011. “Body and Identity.” In Ronnie Littlejohn and Jeffrey Dippmann, eds., Riding the Wind with Liezi: New Perspectives on the Daoist Classic, 167–192. Albany: State University of New York Press. Kohn, Livia. 2012. A Source Book in Chinese Longevity. St. Petersburg: Three Pines Press. Kohn, Livia. 2014. Zhuangzi: Text and Context. St. Petersburg: Three Pines Press. Lo, Vivienne. 2000. “Crossing the Neiguan, ‘Inner Pass’: A Nei-Wai ‘Inner-Outer’ Distinction in Early Chinese Medicine.” East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine, 17: 15–65. Lo, Vivienne. 2014. How to Do the Gibbon Walk: A Translation of the Pulling Book. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Loon, Piet van der. 1984. Taoist Books in the Libraries of the Sung Period. London: Oxford Oriental Institute. Lou, Yulie 樓宇烈. 1999. Collected Explanatory Annotations on Wang Bi’s Works 王弼集校釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Ma, Daozong 馬道宗, ed. 1999. The Secret to Self-Cultivation in Chinese Religious Daoism 中國 道教养生秘訣. Beijing: Zongjiao Wenhua Chubanshe. Maspero, Henri. 1981. Taoism and Chinese Religion. Frank Kierman, trans. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. Mather, Richard B., trans. 1976. A New Account of Tales of the World. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Michael, Thomas. 2005. The Pristine Dao: Metaphysics in Early Daoist Discourse. Albany: State University of New York Press. Michael, Thomas. 2015a. In the Shadows of the Dao: Laozi, the Sage, and the Daodejing. Albany: State University of New York Press. Michael, Thomas. 2015b. “Hermits, Mountains, and Yangsheng in Early Daoism: Perspectives from the Zhuangzi.” In Livia Kohn, ed., New Visions of the Zhuangzi, 145–160. St. Petersburg: Three Pines Press. Needham, Joseph et  al. 1976. Science and Civilization in China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 2000. “Elixirs and Alchemy.” In Livia Kohn, ed., Daoism Handbook, 165–195. Leiden: Brill. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 2006. Great Clarity: Daoism and Alchemy in Early Medieval China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Reid, Daniel. 1989. The Tao of Health, Sex, and Longevity. New York: Simon & Schuster. Robinet, Isabelle. 1997. Taoism: Growth of a Religion. Translated by Phyllis Brooks. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Roth, Harold. 1999. Original Tao: Inward Training (Nei-Yeh) and the Foundations of Taoist Mysticism. New York: Columbia University Press. Sakade, Yoshinobu 扳出祥伸. 1986a. “Kaisetsu dōin no enkaku 解釋。導引の沿革.” In Kitamura Toshikatsu 喜田村利且, ed., Dōin taiyō 導引體要, 1–41. Tokyo: Taniguchi shoten. Sakade, Yoshinobu 扳出祥伸. 1986b. “Chō Tan ‘Yōsei yōshū’ itsubun to sono shisō.” Tōhōshūkyō 68: 241-84. Sakade, Yoshinobu 扳出祥伸. 1989. “Longevity Techniques in Japan: Ancient Sources and Contemporary Studies.” In Livia Kohn, ed., Taoist Meditation and Longevity Techniques, 1–40. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Santee, Robert. 2008. “Stress Management and the Zhuangzi.” Journal of Daoist Studies, 1: 93–123. Santee, Robert. 2011. “The Zhuangzi: A Holistic Approach to Healthcare and Well-being.” In Livia Kohn, ed., Living Authentically: Daoist Contributions to Modern Psychology, 39–58. Dunedin: Three Pines Press. Schipper, Kristofer and Franciscus Verellen, eds. 2004. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Stein, Stephan. 1999. Zwischen Heil und Heilung: Zur frühen Tradition des Yangsheng in China. Uelzen: Medizinisch-Literarische Verlagsgesellschaft.

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Wang, Ming 王明. 1996. Collated Annotations on the Inner Chapters of Baopuzi 抱朴子內篇校 釋. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju. Wang, Bo. 2014. Zhuangzi: Thinking through the Inner Chapters. Translated by Livia Kohn. St. Petersburg: Three Pines Press. Ware, James. 1966. Alchemy, Medicine and Religion in the China of 320 AD. Cambridge: MIT Press. Zhu, Yueli. 1986. “Yangxing yanming lu kao.” Shijie zongjiao yanjiu 1986/1: 101–15. Livia Kohn is Professor Emeritus in the Department of Religion at Boston University. The author or editor of over 40 books, she now lives in Florida, serves as the executive editor of the Journal of Daoist Studies, and runs various workshops and conferences.

Chapter 25

Zhi Dun on Freedom: Synthesizing Daoism and Buddhism Ellen Y. Zhang

Zhi Dun 支遁 (Zhi Daolin 支道林, 314–366 CE) was a well-known “gentleman-­ monk” during the Eastern Jin period. As an adept of Xuanxue 玄學 and qingtan 清談 (“Pure Conversation”), Zhi specialized in the method of exegesis concerning the Mahayanic understanding of prajna (wisdom) based on the idea of Xinfoxuan 新佛玄 (New Buddhist Mysteries), a syncretic reading of Buddhism and Xuanxue. Although Zhi would become a key figure in his time, studies on his thought in the Englishspeaking world are quite limited compared with other philosophers from the same period. Through an analysis of Zhi Dun’s approach to Zhuangzi’s idea of freedom, this chapter will show how he draws on Daoist, and in particular Xuanxue, ideas while developing his own Buddhist theory.1 Zhi Dun was born into a Buddhist family. He was ordained as a priest at the age of twenty-five although he did not take-up his post. He spent most of his time either at temples in the capital or at his own retreat on Yuhang mountain devoting himself to the study of the Prajnaparamita Sutra on perfection of wisdom and the Tathagatajnanamudrasamadhi Sutra on meditative consciousness. At the same time, he had a close relationship with many eminent scholars of his day when he was engaged in “Pure Conversation,” or conducted public expositions of philosophical and religious texts.2 When it comes to his life, the Biography of Eminent Monks 1  Zhi Dun’s writings used in this chapter can be found in A New Account of the Tales of the World (Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語) by Liu Yiqing 劉義慶 (403–444 CE) and the Collected Writings of Zhi Daolin (Zhi Daolin ji 支道林集). The gist of Zhi’s exegesis of chapter 1 of the Zhuangzi 莊子 is preserved in the commentary of Shishuo Xinyu IV (“Letters and Scholarship”). 2  Translations in this chapter are based on Richard Mather’s Shishuo Xinyu: A New Account of the Tales of the World, with modifications.

E. Y. Zhang (*) Department of Religion and Philosophy, Hong Kong Baptist University, Kowloon, Hong Kong e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1_25

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(Gaoseng zhuan 高僧傳) describes Zhi Dun as someone who “followed the ­footprints of Ma Ming and traced the teachings of Nagarjuna [in his teachings on emptiness]”3 and yet, Zhi’s contribution to Chinese intellectual heritage goes well beyond Buddhism. His interpretation of the Zhuangzi 莊子 has a long-standing influence on Zhuangzi scholarship throughout history. His double identities as scholar (shi 士) and monk (seng 僧) thus allow him to see things from both perspectives. Zhi Dun’s connection to the Zhuangzi has been widely recognized though little discussed, thus this chapter will explicate how Zhi’s appropriation of Zhuangzi’s idea of freedom or “free wandering” is influenced by his understanding of Buddhism, and how it marks Zhi’s argument on the relationship between Zhuangzi’s “self-so” (ziran 自然) and the Buddhist doctrine of “the identity of emptiness with matter” (kongjise 空即色). For Zhi Dun, the Daoist conception of freedom, or what he calls “free wandering in the mysterious” (youxuan 遊玄) should be understood as fully engaging the immediacy of individual things in the world while at the same time having a non-attached mind in dealing with the immediacy of said things. To make a Buddhist twist, Zhi Dun shifts his discussion from things-as-such to mind-as-­ such. In doing so, Zhi challenges Xiang Xiu 向秀 (ca. 227–277 CE) and Guo Xiang’s 郭象 (ca. 252–312 CE) interpretation of Zhuangzi’s freedom when the latter identifies self-so with socio-ethical relativity. Such an argument on relativism has, according to Zhi Dun, missed the whole point of Zhuangzi’s idea of freedom which has a clear transcendent dimension. I will conclude the chapter by contending that Zhi Dun has transformed “Daoist mysteries” into “Buddhist mysteries” when he uses the Buddhist concept of emptiness qua dependent-origination to understand the Daoist ideas of no-thingness, no-trace, and no-mind.

1  “New Buddhist Mysteries” With the revival of Daoism during the Wei-Jin 魏晉 era (i.e., Xuanxue), there arose a philosophical appreciation and appropriation of the Mahayanic doctrine of emptiness. The discourse of emptiness and nothingness as such characterize both Xuanxue and Buddhist teachings of the time. Based on the statement in chapter 41 of the Daodejing 道德經, that somethingness (you 有) comes from nothingness (wu 無), Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249 CE) develops his metaphysics of nothingness which views nothingness as the primordial and primary source of individual things in the world. As a matter of fact, Wang Bi’s interpretation of nothingness that evokes a cosmogonic discussion about the origin and nature of the phenomenal world is different 3  The quotation is from The Biographies of Eminent Monks, a compilation of biographies of monks in China by Hui Jiao 慧皎 (497–554 CE), T50, No. 2059. According to the Biography of Eminent Monks, Zhi Dun’s popular writings on Buddhism include: Commentary on the Anapanasmrti Sutra (Anban (shouyi) jing zhu 安般 (守意) 經注); Catvari Dhyanani Sutra (Sichanjing 四禪經); and, On the Sage not Having Discursive Knowledge (Sheng bu bian zhi lun 聖不辯智論). Meanwhile, Zhi Dun was a well-known monastic leader in the south, with constant following of hundreds of students. Also see Liu Guijie 劉貴傑 1980: 245 and Tang Yongtong 湯用彤 1997: 159–161.

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from the Buddhist teaching of emptiness (sunyata, konglun 空論) that refers primarily to the interdependence of all things—i.e., their lack of any independent nature or being. Buddhism, such as the Prajnaparamita Sutras, claims that all things (dharmas) are empty (kong 空), maintaining that everything is dependent-originating and thus devoid of self-nature (i.e., own-being or substance). From the perspective of Xuanxue, both nothingness and emptiness entail the character of “a profound mystery” that carries metaphysical, epistemological, and soteriological meanings. It is upon this mystery that the Daoist ideas, as well as its way of reasoning, are re-­ conceptualized in Xuanxue which is recognized by Zhi Dun as Xinfoxuan 新佛玄 (“New Buddhist Mysteries”), i.e., a form of Buddhism with a Xuanxue touch. Zhi also incorporates Zhuangzi’s idea of “freedom” or “free wandering” (you 遊) into his “Buddhist Mysteries” of seeing things-as-they-are (tathata) and explicates Zhuangzi’s concept of self-so in light of the Buddhist doctrine concerning the relation between matter and emptiness. In Zhi’s “New Buddhist Mysteries,” we see a “fusion of horizons” between the Buddhist Prajnaparamita tradition and the Daoist Xuanxue tradition. John Thompson has correctly observed that “Xuanxue also has a strong mystical aspect, and many Xuanxue discussions concern ways of realizing the essence of reality and the nature of the sage. Such themes resonate strongly with Prajnaparamita so it is little wonder that Xuanxue adherents were also drawn to Buddhism” (Thompson 2008: 62). Therefore, it was a common practice for scholars of Daoism and Buddhism during the Wei-Jin period to be engaged in a hermeneutic of mutual interpretation and reciprocal transformation, that is, using Buddhism to enumerate Daoism, and using Daoism to propagate Buddhism. Many monk-scholars were actively engaged in philosophical debates (qingtan 清談), bringing Buddhists into the conversation with Daoists and Confucians. In fact, qingtan scholars were also actively engaged in Xuanxue. Such cultural exchange enabled Zhi Dun to have opportunities to interact with scholars outside his Buddhist circle and owing to this, he became one of the leading figures in the qingtan movement. As a result, the Buddhist concept of “emptiness in terms of no substance” (xingkong 性空) is often identified with the Daoist idea of “valuing the primordiality of nothingness” (guiwu 貴無), although metaphysically they do not have the same meaning since Buddhism rejects any notion of primordiality. As one of the most well-known monk-scholars of the Wei-Jin era, Zhi Dun’s scholarly achievement was, according to an account in the Shishuo Xinyu, “no less than that of Wang Bi.” To a certain degree, Zhi Dun’s understanding of Buddhism follows the method of geyi 格義 (classified or categorized concepts), a method of exegesis prevalent in the early development of Chinese Buddhism.4 It means that

 In Shishuo Xinyu, the geyi method is also known as the Buddhist method of “categorized enumeration” (shishu 事數) to classify special technical terms in Buddhism, such as “four noble truths” and “five aggregates.” Categorized enumeration is a method that follows the numerical lists practiced in of the Abhidharma texts. The geyi technique was later adopted by Confucian literati to reformulate Confucian doctrines and redefine Chinese culture in the context of growing influences of Buddhism and Daoism. See Dessein and Teng 2016: 58–59.

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rather than treating the [Indian] Buddhist texts dogmatically, one should treat them more flexibly. For example, Dao An 道安 (312–385 CE), the first recorded critic of the technique of geyi, said: “In spreading and praising the [Buddhist] principles and doctrines, we should make them fitting and proper. When dharma-drums compete to resound, what [does it matter who comes] first [and who comes] later?” (Mair 2012: 41).5 Like many Buddhist scholars of his time, Zhi Dun was well versed in the Chinese Classics, particularly the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi, the two significant works for the Xuanxue movement, and thus actively engaged in a hermeneutic of mutual interpretation. Against this background, it is important to note that the Buddhist studies of prajna (translated as wisdom, insight, or intuitive knowledge) in Zhi Dun’s time were carried-out under the aegis of Xuanxue thinking as suggested by Zhi’s “New Buddhist Mysteries.” In the history of Chinese Buddhism, Zhi Dun is viewed as the founder of the “Matter as Such” (jise 即色) school. The word se 色 is a translation from the Sanskrit word rupa, referring to form, matter, or material objects in a phenomenal world. In the Wei-Jin era, Chinese Buddhists combined Buddhism with Xuanxue, forming the “Six Schools and Seven Lineages” (liujia qizong 六家七宗), each having a different understanding of the relationship between the phenomenal world and the idea of emptiness. According to Ji Zang’s 吉藏 (549–623 CE) account, these schools include: ( 1) School of Original Nothingness (benwu 本無). (2) Variant School of Original Nothingness (benyiwu 本無異). (3) School of Matter-as-Such (seji 色即). (4) School of Nothingness of the Mind (xinwu 心無). (5) School of Stored Consciousness (shihan 識含). (6) School of Illusory Transformation (huanhua 幻化). (7) School of Causal Combinations (yuanhui 緣會).6 Although the surviving sources of these schools are fragmentary, it is obvious that Zhi Dun’s argument on “matter-as-such” or “identity-with-matter” aims at refuting what he takes to be an incorrect interpretation of the Buddhist doctrine of emptiness. At the same time, he attempts to have the Buddhist idea understood in the context of Chinese culture. From Zhi Dun’s point of view, matter-as-such in the phenomenal world lacks a permanent nature of its own, hence it is empty. However, Zhi’s understanding of Buddhism is challenged by Seng Zhao 僧肇 (364–414 CE), one of the representatives of the School of Chinese Madhyamika (Middle Doctrine), also known as the Sanlun School 三論宗 (i.e., Three-Treatises School). He argues that although matter-as-such acknowledges that matter is matter of itself, it fails to

5  At the same time, Dao An also acknowledged the limit of the employment of non-Buddhist terminology in interpreting Buddhist teachings because such practice might have “deviated from the principles of Buddhism.” For discussion on this issue, see Zürcher 2007: 184–187. 6  See Ji Zang’s Commentary on the Treatise of the Middle Way (Zhonglun shu 中論疏); see also, Chen 1980: 148–154.

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accept the further fact that matter is, after all, not matter.7 Nevertheless, Zhi Dun’s argument on matter-as-such helps him to postulate Zhuangzi’s idea of self-so. In addition, by accepting matter-as-such and the emptiness of matter, Zhi Dun intends to have a non-dual relationship between emptiness (sunya) and non-emptiness (asunya), an identification between existence (you 有) as matter and non-existence (wu 無) as emptiness. It should be noted that Buddhist thought was already well developed and complexly differentiated before it reached China and was adopted by Chinese culture. The translation and interpretations of various scriptures and texts by Chinese Buddhists such as Dao An, Hui Yuan 慧遠 (334–417 CE), and Kumarajiva 鳩羅摩 什 (334–413 CE) made Buddhist teachings more diverse and complicated (Adler 2005: 1580–1613). This situation is well represented by the Chinese understanding of the central teaching of Buddhism, namely, emptiness. Zhi Dun’s “Matter-as-­ Such”, like Dao An’s “Original Nothingness” and Dao Heng’s 道恒 (346–417 CE) “Nothingness of the Mind” was a popularly accepted doctrine among the seven lineages. Instead of giving an explication of the mind, Zhi Dun’s focus is on the understanding of the nature of matter by pointing out that: The nature of matter is such that matter does not exist by itself. Having no self-being, matter is empty although it exists as matter. Therefore, it is said that “matter is identical with emptiness and also different from emptiness.”

夫色之性也, 不自有色。色不自有, 雖色而空, 故曰: 色即為空, 色復異空 (Zhang 2014: 596).

Yet different from most other Buddhist scholars of the day, who combined Buddhism with Xuanxue for the purposes of explaining Buddhist soteriology of emancipation and spiritual advancement, Zhi Dun’s fusion of the two traditions focuses more on Zhuangzi’s idea of freedom and how the Daoist notion of freedom can supplement the Buddhist concept of enlightenment. According to Zhou Daxing’s 周大興 reading, Zhi Dun’s appropriation of emptiness exemplifies the encounter of Indian Buddhism with Xuanxue and its convergence and difference. It “entails both the Buddhist version of Mysterious Learning and the Mysterious Learning’s version of Buddhism” in a format of Twofold Mystery (chongxuan 重玄): the former offers an alternative reading of Zhuangzi’s opening chapter (xiaoyaoyou 逍遙遊) that distinguishes itself from the readings of Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang, and the latter reflects a dialectical way of thinking in terms of something and nothing, and essence and function characterized by Mysterious Learning, through which Zhi Dun has provided a new interpretation of transcendence in Buddhism (Zhou 2004: 183–215). Due to the limited scope of this chapter, my discussion will focus on Zhi’s approach to the Daoist idea of freedom via Zhuangzi’s concepts of ziran 自然 (self-so) and xiaoyao 逍遙 (free wandering). I will also look at Zhi’s challenge of the view that contentment leads to personal freedom and autonomy suggested by Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s commentaries to the Zhuangzi.

 See Seng Zhao’s argument in Feng 1983, volume 2: 248; see also, Zhou 2004: 192–194.

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2  Self-So as Matter-as-Such The phrase ziran in Daoist philosophy is one with a polyvalent meaning. It means self-so, naturalness, non-interference by others, self-creative action, spontaneity, etc. In Xuanxue, ziran as self-so is a term often used in contrast to the idea of other­so characterized by what is called mingjiao 名教 (i.e., names and teachings), referring to doctrinal moral codes and social institutions. The debate on the priority of ziran over mingjiao was quite popular with the intellectuals of the time. In this context, ziran is linked to the idea of self-inclination, authenticity, and freedom. This was also the period during which Buddhism flourished and penetrated Chinese culture. In his expounding of the Zhuangzi, Zhi Dun associates Zhuangzi’s concepts of ziran and xiaoyao with the Buddhist concept of “matter-as-such.” In his essay “On Free Wandering of the Mystery-as-Such” (Jise youxuan lun 即色遊玄論), Zhi Dun first explicates his thesis on the emptiness or non-being being identified with matter and contended for an understanding of rambling of mysteries via the understanding of the relation between matter as such and emptiness. Zhi’s argument on matter-as-­ such can be summarized as follows: 1. The nature of matter is such that matter does not exist by itself. Having no self-­ being, matter is empty although it exists as matter. 2. Matter as such is understood as matter, yet matter does not exist as matter of itself. Therefore, matter is not matter although it exists as matter. 3. Matter is empty; non-emptiness refers to matter with no self-being, which can be seen as something. Matter is still matter though empty. 4. The meaning of the identity of matter as such and free wandering of the Mystery (Zhang 2014: 596; Zhou 2004: 187–199). The idea of matter as such, according to Zhi Dun, reflects the notion of “mattering matter” (sese 色色) because matter is dependent on something that causes matter to become matter. Here, Zhi’s rendering of emptiness is similar to Nagarjuna’s argument on emptiness in that emptiness means dependent-origination (pratityasamutpada). Zhi Dun maintains that matter has no own-being or substratum (buzise 不自 色), and thus it is empty. Nevertheless, when Zhi further identifies emptiness with “wandering of mystery,” he sounds more Xuanxue than Madhyamikan, since the notion of mystery (xuan 玄) entails more affirmation than the negation emphasized by Madhyamikan emptiness. According to Nagarjuna’s argument on emptiness, emptiness itself should be “emptied” as well. In fact, Madhyamika Buddhism is well-known for its use of double negations so as to avoid essentializing both somethingness and nothingness. We see this negative gesture in the arguments made by Seng Zhao and Ji Zang who are two of the most important Chinese Madhyamika transmitters. For instance, Seng’s negation of both “things” and “name” as well as Ji’s fourfold negation best illustrates the Madhyamika logic of double negation in terms of “neither-this-nor-­ that.” However, none of the seven schools in the Wei-Jin period employed such

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method of double negation, thus they substantiate the meaning of emptiness in one way or another. For example, the argument of “original nothingness” held by Dao An, as Ji Zang points out, represents the Buddhist Xuanxue thinking influenced by Wang Bi’s ontological interpretation of nothingness, where nothingness exists prior to the evolving of the myriad things. Although Ji Zang is somewhat sympathetic with the position of original nothingness, he worries about its ontological scheme that is in conflict with the Buddhist idea of emptiness of all dharmas. From this line of thinking, Zhi Dun’s matter-as-such or as tathata is, says Ji Zang, close to the Madhyamikan understanding of emptiness although the former is articulated in a positive manner and that it is also acceptable to speak of the true nature without rejecting conventional names (Thompson 2008: 68–69).8 Nevertheless, Seng Zhao criticizes Zhi Dun for not truly understanding the Buddhist idea that matter is not matter at all, insisting that Zhi is still engaged in things-valorization: The matter as such understands that matter does not become what it is by itself. We know that matter which displays itself as such is not matter, yet those who talk about matter take matter as it is. But how can matter become what it is through itself? Those people merely say that matter does not become what it is by itself, but do not understand that matter is not matter at all (Chan 1969: 352).

即色者, 明色不自色, 故雖色而非色也。夫言色者, 但當色即色, 豈待色色而後為 色哉? 此直語色不自色, 未領色之非色也.9

From Seng Zhao’s point of view, Zhi Dun’s matter-as-such implies ontological privilege of matter that fails to acknowledge the non-substantial and illusory nature of matter. That is, Zhi Dun accepts that matter does not become what it is by itself (bu zise 不自色), but he does not understand that matter is not matter at all (feise 非 色), viz. “not being existent by itself” is not the same as “not being existent at all.” What Seng Zhao intends to argue is that Zhi Dun mistakenly takes matter (a provisional somethingness) as if it exists in ultimate reality. For Ji Zang, however, Zhi Dun’s idea that matter exists as provisional somethingness does not violate the Buddhist idea of emptiness since Zhi accepts the basic Buddhist premise that all things in the world are devoid of self-nature (svabhava). Zhou Daxing, who follows Ji Zang’s observation, points out that Seng Zhao’s critique of essentialization of matter does not apply to Zhi Dun’s position, for Zhi’s matter-as-such is similar to Seng Zhao’s argument on the emptiness of unreal (Zhou 2004: 191).10 I think what bothers Seng Zhao is Zhi Dun’s emphasis that matter does not need to be eliminated in order to reach emptiness. From Seng Zhao’s perspective, such a view of matter falls into the trap of substantiation.

 For Ji Zang’s view on matter-as-such, see also Zhou 2004: 193.  For the detailed argument by Seng Zhao 僧肇, see his Treatises of Seng Zhao (Zhao lun 肇論), T45, vol. 1858: 151. 10  Seng Zhao understood “something” or matter as “provisional existence” (jiayou 假有) and thus it is not “empty.” Ji Zang, however, viewed Seng Zhao’s “provisional existence” as not empty enough while he took Zhi Dun’s position to be closer to the Madhyamikan one. 8 9

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At the same time, things get more complicated when Zhi Dun loans the Daoist concept self-so (ziran) to explain the Buddhist doctrine of emptiness, since in early translation, ziran is used to translate the Buddhist concept zixing 自性 or self-nature which is divided into two categories: zixing as sunya (emptiness) in a conventional sense and zixing as tathata (thing-as-they-are) in an ultimate sense.11 Yet the Chinese word zixing in the Buddhist context means zixingkong 自性空 (emptiness in terms of no substance of self). Accordingly, for Zhi Dun, ziran as self-so does not indicate the idea of “having substance”; rather, it means emptiness as self-so. Therefore, Zhi does not see any problems in using the Daoist concept to explain Buddhism, or using the Buddhist concept to explain Daoism, which is also illustrated by his intercultural understanding of Zhuangzi’s concept of freedom. Instead of postulating the conceptual relation between shunya and ashunya, Zhi Dun shifts the issue concerning matter and emptiness to the Daoist notion of the Dao 道 as “on the way,” and at the same time, he suggests an apophatic dimension of what is perceived as “mystery” (xuan 玄). By doing so, self-so or emptiness is no longer a concept but an action. In other words, it is no longer a question of what it is but how to do it. In this way, Zhi Dun gives the Buddhist idea of emptiness a Daoist twist, one that is reinforced by Zhuangzi’s idea of self-so in a manner of free wandering. Here we notice that there are three key concepts in Zhi Dun’s argument, namely, matter-as-such, self-so, and a wandering into the realm of mysteries. The question is: How should we understand the relationship between self-so and matter-­ as-­such, and between free wandering in the realm of mystery and self-so? Let us first look at Zhuangzi’s views on self-so. According to the Zhuangzi, xiaoyaoyou or free wandering, is a way of going along with self-so, and indicates an experience of “going with the current,” a spontaneous action, or a spiritual fulfilment. Obviously, self-so in the Zhuangzi is not the same as self-being, a concept rejected by Buddhism. Instead, self-so indicates a spontaneous action or a flow of experience that requires a non-attached mentality to a fixed self, i.e., what Zhuangzi calls the mentality of no dependence (wudai 無待). Alan Fox makes a good argument when he interprets Zhuangzi’s self-so as “becoming sensitive to a broader and finer range of the subtle demands, constraints, and inevitabilities of unique situations” and such sensitivity “allows us to respond [ying 應] most appropriately to every unique situation in the way that most or best respects subtleties of novelty and necessity” (Fox 1996: 59). Brook Ziporyn, who defends Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s interpretation of self-so, contends that the idea of “self-nature” is used in the Zhuangzi in contrast to the “other,” the “external,” or any “deliberate activity” (Ziporyn 2015: 408). Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Zhuangzi also takes Zhuangzi’s ziran as self-nature (zixing 自性) in the sense that there is no generative principle that would transcend the immediacy of individual things and their self-nature. In other words, self-so means “causeless-ness.” That is, all things are “self-so” in that they are self-generating and self-transforming. “There is nothing which can cause

 For the early concept of ziran, see Yang 2014: 269.

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things to thing” (wuwuzhe wuwu 物物者無物), all things become existence spontaneously.”12 Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang maintain that everything produces itself and there is nothing by which it is created (Ziporyn 2015: 401). Their notion that everything is self-created and self-transformed is obviously a direct challenge to Wang Bi’s argument on the primordial nothingness that creates everything, but at the same time, it is also at odds with the Buddhist idea of causality in terms of interdependent origination. It seems that Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s commentary is not concerned with the question of causality or relational nature of existence; instead, it uses the concept of self-nature to explicate Zhuangzi’s idea of equalization of things (qiwu 齊物).13 Underlying Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s interpretation is an affirmation of a self-determinant agent or the idea of autonomy in a Daoist self-so action. Yet from a Buddhist point of view, this notion of uncaused own-­nature in each thing violates the Buddhist principle of inter-dependent origination which means there is no self-caused or uncaused self-nature.14 Based on Nagarjuna’s argument on emptiness as dependence-origination, Zhi Dun holds that Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s interpretation of self-nature is guilty of having an ontological substance. Zhi Dun concurs with Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s critique of Wang Bi’s primordial nothingness, pointing out that nothingness cannot be a principle by itself. Yet at the same time, Zhi Dun also wants to acknowledge the aspect of somethingness in nothing, which is different from Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s differentiation of somethingness from nothingness as two separate entities. In other words, Zhi Dun is aware of the causal condition of self which in reality is a self that is interdependent, interconnected, integrated, or situated. This relational or causal self is also called no-self in Buddhism. Nevertheless, part of the Zhuangzi’s argument on freedom is postulated on this relational self. To be free means, therefore, to exercise control over one’s medium, including all forms of social constraint in order to improve one’s state of affairs or attain spiritual satisfaction. For Zhuangzi, being self-so enables one to be self-transforming which, in turn, enables one to develop a spontaneous and skillful responsiveness to each specific situation in the complexity of the world. In some cases, it requires a gesture of self-forgetfulness that allows a fluid and creative mind needed for finding the fit and living in agreement with the unfolding of Dao at a decisive moment.

 Zhi Dun accepts Guo Xiang’s rejection of the ontological a priori but supplements it with the Buddhist principle causality or dependent-origination. 13  Yet by doing so, Guo Xiang brought himself the problem of relativism, namely, everything in the world, big or small, can attain freedom in their own way, for individual things have their own lot (fen 分). I will further elaborate this point in the next section of this chapter. 14  Nevertheless, it remains a question if the uncaused self-nature in Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s theoretical framework can be considered a kind of “internal force” that determines the transformation of each thing in itself (see Ziporyn’s essay in Liu 2015: 406). Ziporyn contends that Guo Xiang’s “principle” by definition is unknown and pertains to only one entity. Put another way, the principle is not an overarching one. 12

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Secondly, let us look at Zhi Dun’s view on wandering into the realm of mystery and its relationship to Zhuangzi’s idea of self-so. Since Zhi Dun identifies “Buddhist Mysteries” with things-as-they-are (tathata), his idea of free wandering in the mystery is identified with the Xuanxue idea of “the mystery of voidness” (xuanxu 玄虛) as well as the Buddhist concept of prajna (boruo 般若) or wisdom. While Zhuangzi speaks of the transformation of things (wuhua 物化) in order to wander through the boundless (you wuqiong 遊無窮), Zhi Dun focuses his argument on the transcendent mind of the sage who can overcome the dichotomy between matter and emptiness and existence and non-existence, or a bodhisattva who sees or abides with things as they are. Although Zhi Dun acknowledges Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s intention on the idea of self-causing and self-transforming of things, he does not accept their argument on mutual conformity between what is seen as allotted nature and self-contentment. At the same time, Zhi Dun does not see matter-as-such and Buddhist Mysteries as two opposing entities. After all, for him the matter is emptiness, and emptiness reveals mysteries. Perhaps, for Zhuangzi there is nothing “mystical” about free wandering, as it is simply a Daoist way of cultivation of skillfulness as we see in the story of Cook Ding who butchers an ox. If, for Zhuangzi, mystery means being without limits, that is, wandering without boundaries, for Zhi Dun, mystery denotes the notion of seeing through the ad hoc rules of Buddhist doctrines or the trace of the sage in order to attain inner wisdom. Zhi’s “xuanxue-ization” of emptiness, as such, is supplemented by the Daoist conceptualization of the emptiness-as-matter-­ as-self-so-ness which gives both Buddhism and Zhuangzi’s Daoism a new interpretation. Now, I will explain further how Zhi Dun appropriates Zhuangzi’s view of free wandering or xiaoyaoyou and its implications on the concept of freedom.

3  Re-defining “Free Wandering” In the Shishuo Xinyu, we find a passage that describes Zhi Dun’s involvement with the debate on Zhuangzi’s concept of xiaoyao or free wandering: The Free Wandering chapter of the Zhuangzi had in the past always been a problem spot, where famous and worthy commentators had only been able to bore for the flavor, but from which they had never been able to extract any principles beyond those of Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang. While Zhi Dun was at the White Horse Temple, he held a debate with Feng Huai, in the course of which they discussed the “free wandering.” Zhi boldly marked out new principles beyond any proposed by the two above-named commentators and established an interpretation unlike that of any of the previous worthies, entirely beyond the reach of those famous worthies in their groping for the flavor. Therefore, the chapter was always interpreted with Zhi’s principles (Mather 1976: 109).

莊子逍遙篇, 舊是難處, 諸名賢所可鑽味而不能拔理於郭向之外。支道林在白馬 寺中, 將馮太常共語, 因及逍遙。支卓然標新理於二家之表, 立異義於眾賢之外, 皆是諸名賢尋味之所不得。後遂用支理 (Shishuo Xinyu, 4: 32; Xu 1989: 119–120).

Despite Zhi Dun’s Discussion on the Idea of Xiaoyao (Xiaoyao lun 逍遙論) exists only as fragments in the Shishuo Xinyu, its basic theme, characterized by an amalgamation of Xuanxue and Buddhist thought, remains. In his reading of the Zhuangzi,

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Zhi Dun speaks of a twofold freedom: (1) freedom in the sense of matter-­as-­such (jise xiaoyao 即色逍遙); (2) freedom in the sense of non-dependence (wudai xiaoyao 無待逍遙). The former is freedom at an imminent or relative level whereas the latter is at a transcendent or absolute level. This interpretation differs from Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s rendering in that the latter distinguish between freedom as accommodating one’s own nature (shixing xiaoyao 适性逍遥), and freedom as satisfying one’s nature (zuxing xiaoyao 足性逍遥). In a sense, freedom means finding contentment and satisfaction within one’s own set of circumstances that are proper to one’s self-nature.15 Here Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang make a relativist argument, indicating that Peng, the bird whose greatness seems to transcend all limits, is in fact itself limited exactly by this very greatness just as the small birds from the next passage are limited by their smallness. In other words, Peng the big bird, is by no means more xiaoyao or free than small birds, since all birds can find a way to satisfy their own allotted nature (ge an qi tianxing 各安其天性). Xiang and Guo thus emphasize the limits of Peng’s freedom on the one hand, and uplift the modest freedom of smaller things on the other hand. As a result, everyone is able to attain freedom as long as he or she attains contentment and non-frustration: Though some are larger and some are smaller, every being without exception is released into the range of its own spontaneous attainments, so that each being relies on its own innate nature, each deed exactly matching its own capabilities, all equally far-reaching and unfettered. How could anyone be superior to any other? (Ziporyn 2009: 129)

夫小大雖殊, 而放於自得之場, 則物任其性, 事稱其能, 各當其分, 逍遙一也, 豈 容勝負於其間哉.

According to Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s reading of Zhuangzi’s xiaoyao, attachment or dependence would not prevent someone from being free as long as they find fitness and satisfaction. In other words, freedom for them means “attaining what needs to be attained” and “satisfying what needs to be satisfied.” They also contend that an individual thing has its own destiny, determined by, in today’s terms, natural and social lotteries, and thus there is not one kind of xiaoyao that fits all things in the world. What matters is attaining a harmonious relation between one’s individual nature and the surrounding environment. Thus, Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang argue for equalization of the big and small in terms of attaining freedom, maintaining Zhuangzi’s general idea of freedom that one must obtain oneself in order to be free from confinements. In this regard, there is no difference between the smallest and the greatest. However, Zhi Dun sees such an interpretation as problematic in that it has a strong relativist orientation that serves to justify social hierarchy and political domination. So Zhi intends to develop new principles different from that of Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang even though the latter’s argument on accommodating one’s nature and allotment was popular with the literati of the time. To be specific, Zhi challenges Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s idea of accommodating one’s own nature or satisfying one’s nature since both of them still operate, according to Zhi Dun, in the realm of 15  David Machek calls this form of freedom a “deterministic mechanism of freedom which lies in smoothness of spontaneous necessity in which heaven operates.” Machek 2010: 125.

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“dependence” or “attachment” (youdai 有待), and thus are not a form of genuine freedom. In this sense, neither the big bird nor little quail enjoys genuine freedom: Free wandering means the mind of a perfect person. When Zhuangzi talked about the great Dao, he used the allegory of the Peng-bird and quail. Because the Peng-bird’s way of life is untrammeled, it loses all particular direction in the realm beyond the body. Because the quail, on the other hand, lives in the near and scoffs at the far, there is a certain complacency in the realm within its mind (Mather 1976: 109).

夫逍遙者, 明至人之心也。莊生建言人道, 而寄指鵬、鷃。鵬以營生之路曠, 故 失適於體外; 鷃以在近而笑遠, 有矜伐於心內 (Shishuo Xinyu, 4: 32; Xu 1989: 119–120).

For Zhi Dun, the big bird is limited by its huge body, and the little quail is limited by its narrow mind, therefore, neither has attained real freedom. In other words, as long as one is conditioned by the external (outer circumstances) and the internal (inner inclinations), one cannot be truly free. This is quite different from Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s understanding of freedom as accommodating one’s own nature or satisfying one’s nature, both of which accept the premise of natural and social necessity. For Zhi Dun, that Xiang and Guo’s relativism is conditioned by determinism is hardly acceptable because if this were the case, the tyrant Jie and the bandit Zhi would have been paragons of virtue since it was in their nature to do what they did. For Zhi Dun, therefore, a theory of accommodating one’s nature with its moral implications has blurred the line between the good and the wicked, an enlightened person and an ignorant person, or the mind of a bodhisattva and the mind of an ordinary person. Despite how some people of mediocre capacity are able to attain happiness and satisfaction, it is mistaken to identify such happiness or satisfaction with freedom. It seems that Zhi Dun is looking for another form of freedom in the Zhuangzi that is similar to the Buddhist idea of absolute spiritual freedom that is beyond a psychological state of the mind. Zhi Dun thus maintains that neither the Peng nor the little quail is free since they all have their limits by having dependence. Genuine freedom is free from “dependence” (dai 待) which means: “He may do what his designated role requires” but “ignores self or personal interests,” and that “He may lose his life without losing what is most genuine to him” (Zhuangzi, chapter 6; Ziporyn 2009: 41). The notion of “fit” is important in the realm of matter-as-such, yet “forgetfulness” and “non-attachment” is more important in the realm of non-­dependence. Therefore, different from Xiang and Guo’s interpretation, the big and the small are, according to Zhi Dun, allegorical expressions of a mind that is not totally free yet. It is quite obvious that Zhi Dun’s intends to maintain a transcendent dimension of Zhuangzi’s concept of freedom which has both epistemological and soteriological implications. It means that freedom is just being free from something (i.e., negative freedom) but being free to do something (i.e., positive freedom). As a matter of fact, Zhi’s challenge to Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s relativity is in agreement with what is said in the Zhuangzi when we read: “Little understanding cannot keep up with great understanding; the short-lived cannot keep up with the long-lived; the morning mushroom knows nothing of the noon tide; the winter cicada knows nothing of spring and autumn” (Zhuangzi, chapter 2).16 It indicates that the small bird 16

 Ziporyn 2009: 4; translation modified.

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cannot come up to the big bird Peng with regard to experiencing different level of freedom. Therefore, in response to Xiang and Guo’s reading of xiaoyao in the Zhuangzi, Zhi Dun advances a radically different course of interpretation marked by a shift from things as self-so to mind as no-self when he states that xiaoyao illuminates the mind of a perfect person (fu xiaoyao zhe, ming zhiren zhi xin 夫逍遙者, 明至人之心). This move from things to mind is similar to Seng Zhao’s image of a sage in both Daoism and Buddhism when he argues that the sage’s mind is not a “thing” among the myriad things since the sage’s mind in essence is “non-being” (Chan 1969: 353). This free, forgetful, and spontaneously functioning mind (i.e., “flowing cognition”) resembles the Buddhist notion of no-self, yet it is expressed in a more positive way. Accordingly, free wandering with no limits in the Zhuangzi is, then, the same as free wandering in the realm of mystery in Buddhist teachings. Through an emphasis on freedom qua mind Zhi Dun is able to explicate the Buddhist idea of emptiness of mind. In this regard, Zhi’s argument is quite similar to the doctrine of no-mind (xin wuyi 心無義) advocated in the School of Nothingness of the Mind, that is, the non-­ existence of the mind, or no-mind (wuxin 無心). The language of nothingness or emptiness also reflects a fusion of Buddhism and Wei-Jin Xuanxue which is characterized by a heated debate on nothingness (wu 無) and somethingness (you 有). Yet, instead of speaking nothingness or somethingness in reality, Zhi Dun speaks of these two entities in terms of the mind of the sage and the idea of freedom: The perfect person, riding upon the correctness of heaven, soars aloft, wandering infinitely in unfettered freedom. Since he is able to treat thing as things, without being treated as a thing, therefore, in his wandering he is not self-content. Being mystically in communion with the universe, he does not act purposefully. He is not hurried, yet he moves swiftly. Therefore, in his freedom he goes everywhere. This is how it becomes free wandering (Mather 1976: 109–110).

至人乘天正而高興, 遊無窮於放浪; 物物而不物於物, 則遙然不我得, 玄感不為, 不 疾而速, 則逍然靡不適。此所以為逍遙也 (Shishuo Xinyu, 4: 32; Xu 1989: 119–120).

The statement “to treat thing as things, without being treated as a thing” is a citation from chapter 20 “shanmu 山木” of the Zhuangzi, which literally means “to thing things but not to be thing-ed by things” (wuwu er bu wuyuwu 物物而不物於物). Here, Zhi Dun links being not free with the problem of “objectification” (such as names and honors) either by self or by others in order to develop a more self-­ determined and fulfilling life. In response to Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s rendering of xiaoyao as self-contentment, Zhi Dun points out: But if one has a desire to fulfil one’s own contentment, and to be content with one’s own contentment, such a person in his happiness has something like natural simplicity, like a hungry man once he is satisfied, or a thirsty man once his thirst is quenched. But would such a man forthwith forget all about cooking and eating in the presence of grains and cereals, or put an end to all further toasting and pledging in the presence of wines and liquors? Unless it is it the perfect contentment, how can it be a means of free wandering? (Mather 1976: 110).

若夫有欲當其所足; 足於所足, 快然有似天真。猶饑者一飽, 渴者一盈, 豈忘烝嘗 於糗糧, 絕觴爵於醪醴哉? 苟非至足, 豈所以逍遙乎 (Shishuo Xinyu, 4: 32; Xu 1989: 120).

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What should be noted here is that Zhi Dun uses the term the “perfect contentment” (zhizu 至足) in contrast to the term “self-contentment” (zizu 自足) used in Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s commentary. For Zhi Dun, self-contentment as an easily gained complacency fails to capture the wonderous spirit of Zhuangzi’s perfect person, for self-contentment still operates in a state of psychological being (that is, “satisfying what needs to be satisfied”). Happiness as a state of feeling is temporary, for the happiness of a hungry or thirsty person is dependent on food and drink. Perfect contentment, on the other hand, points to a transformative and transcendent mind that is shaped by one’s values in life.17 Perfect contentment, therefore, refers to an ultimate perspective, a spiritual state of freedom that is gained by a person who does not lose in the realm beyond the body (ti wai 體外), nor in the realm within the mind (xin nei 心內). Zhi Dun’s emphasis on the transcendent dimension, or what he calls a “mystical dimension” is consistent with Buddhist teachings, which are centered on a soteriological aspect of freedom, including being free from all suffering. Accordingly, Zhi Dun’s freedom in the sense of matter-as-such would not be the same as Xiang and Guo’s freedom in the sense of satisfying one’s capacity and nature. For Zhi, this kind of freedom, or to be exact, the freedom of mind is similar to the Buddhist concept of prajna. In his Preface to the Synoptic Extract of Larger and Smaller Versions of Prajnaparamita (Daxiaopin Duibi Chaomiao xu 大小品對比要抄序), Zhi Dun contends that the one who has obtained the true wisdom or prajna would understand the meaning of “the ultimate emptiness” (zhiwu 至無), and is able to be the one who is not to be thing-ed by things” (wuwu yuwu 無物於物). Zhi Dun also employs the Buddhist doctrine of emptiness to explain the ideas of “nothingness” (wu 無) and “principle” (li 理) discussed in Xuanxue, contending that the nothingness of things cannot be nothing by itself and that the principle of things cannot be principle by itself.18 True freedom, therefore, relies on a state of the mind when one is able to forget both nothingness and principle. Similar arguments are also shown by early Chinese Buddhists such as Seng Zhao and Ji Zang as mentioned above. Meanwhile, Zhi Dun puts an emphasis on the connection of xuan (being mystical) to Zhuangzi’s xiaoyao, positing that the wisdom of the perfect person is subtle and difficult to fathom. Thus, he calls xiaoyao “a free wandering into the realm of mystery” which requires prajna or wisdom. Nevertheless, such knowing in terms of a transcendent mind, is not merely self-knowing, and thus cannot simply be put in words and concepts. It is in this rendering of the notion of xuan in the Zhuangzi that we see Zhi Dun’s Buddhist reconceptualization, especially the Buddhist argument that perfect wisdom is beyond knowledge and words.

 Contemporary philosophy and empirical studies in the West tend to distinguish two different approaches to the question of happiness: (1) a state of mind, and (2) well-being or flourishing. The two approaches are viewed to be mutually exclusive in that the former treats the issue from a perspective of state of mind in terms of desire theories whereas the latter takes the issue from a perspective of value judgment. 18  Zhou 2004: 200–201. 17

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Chen Yinke 陳寅恪 makes a good observation when he associates Zhi Dun’s interpretation of xiaoyao with the Mahayanic Prajnaparamita tradition.19 Chen also contends that Zhi’s thought is based on the Buddhist teaching of “the practice of Dao” (Daoxing lun 道行論), or the transcendent dimension whereas Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s thought is on the doctrine of “capacity and nature” (Caixing lun 才性論) or the imminent dimension.20 It follows that free wandering for Xiang-Guo means flowing along with the fluctuations of natural processes whereas for Zhi Dun, it is understood in terms of prajna-knowing which focuses on the transcendent aspect of inner freedom. As a result of this difference, Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s xiaoyao is more this-world oriented. Nevertheless, we still find a Buddhist-Daoist element when Zhi Dun understands freedom as “doing things” and not to be “objectified” as things. From a Buddhist perspective, it means that one recognizes the emptiness of things but, at the same time, does not deny the existence of things. As for xiaoyao as non-dependence, Zhi Dun puts forth the issue concerning the mind of the sage. While Zhuangzi employs the idea of double forgetfulness in a manner of “neither things nor the mind” to indicate the notion of complete detachment, Zhi Dun talks about “forgetting mysteries” (wangxuan 忘玄) and “having no mind” (wuxin 無心). For Zhi Dun, the focus point is mind, because mind is the “trace” of the origination of things from his Buddhist perspective. To be free in this sense is to realize the empty nature of things that are derived from one’s mind. Yet it seems that Zhi Dun does not intend to reduce all issues to the state of mind where all things are forgetting, otherwise his Buddhist position would be the same as the argument that all is relative to the mind given by the School of Nothingness of the Mind. Instead, his argument on xiaoyao qua matter-as-such relates mind to things. That is, the ultimate nothingness is understood via the emptiness of both the mind and things. Because of this approach, Zhi Dun accepts Zhuangzi’s position on perspectivism, that is, people’s views about reality are always conditioned by different perspectives and the ways language is used, and freedom as such means being free from bias and fixed views. Zhi then further develops Zhuangzi’s position of “equalization of all things and opinions” by supplementing the Buddhist argument on matter-as-such being absent of permanent nature of its own at the level of a phenomenal world. As mentioned earlier, Zhi Dun sees ziran or self-so as matter-as-such, indicating the Buddhist idea that nothing in the phenomenal world has self-nature. Such a reading on ziran departs significantly from Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s interpretation although Zhi agrees with them in denying the primordial Dao as a creator or determinant factor of all things. In contrast to Zhi Dun’s matter-as-such, Xiang and Guo’s commentary emphasize existence instead of non-existence. That is, Xiang and Guo see the phenomenal world as existence and that its existence relies on the fact that each matter or thing has its own nature. This understanding also leads to their interpretation of xiaoyao or free wandering as self-accommodation and self-­ contentment. In fact, their concept of xiaoyao embraces a practical dimension and

19 20

 See Chen 1980: 148–154.  “Daoxing” refers to Daoxingjing 道行經 or Daoxing Boruo jing 道行般若經 by Dao An 道安.

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is imbedded in the idea of self-interest and self-transformation when they link xiaoyao to ziran, and then to the concept of “self-generation of things” or “spontaneous transformation” (duhua 獨化). Being “spontaneous” here indicates that things-as-they-are are not dependent on the “external force” (i.e., Dao), nor dependent on themselves internally (wai bu ziyudao, nei bu ziyuji 外不資於道, 內不資於 己). This spontaneous transformation is explicated by Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s argument through a plethora of selves, such as self-so (zier 自爾), self-attainment (zide 自得), self-permission (zike 自可), self-rightness (zidang 自當), and self-­ nature (zixiang 自相). Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s argument on self has two implications: (1) it disagrees with Wang Bi’s idea concerning the primordial Dao, and (2) it emphasizes the individuality and singularity in self. According to the commentaries of Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang, a spontaneous and singular transformation indicates the idea of self-determination of each thing by itself. It is considered a principle (li 理) of self-nature.21 Such reconstruction of self represents a form of ontological individualism that is at odds with the Buddhist doctrine of the emptiness of self-nature, and thus it is not difficult to understand why it is rejected by Zhi Dun. Therefore, we see Zhi Dun’s transformation of the meaning of ziran and xiaoyao from self-so to no-­self (or no-mind). This shift to no-self aims to overcome Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s contentment theory, that is, going wherever the change leads and feeling no burden. For Zhi, the idea of contentment via selfattainment and self-permission is not a sufficient condition to attain personal freedom and ultimately self-­transcendence. Therefore, Zhi Dun’s freedom in the sense of matter-as-such and freedom in the sense of no-dependence can be understood as two levels of freedom: the relative, and the absolute. As a Buddhist scholar, Zhi Dun seems to be more interested in the idea of absolute freedom, and how this point can be understood within the Buddhist context. He insists that “the ultimate person is capable of complete transformation, his traces diminishing with time. We speak of Nirvana provisionally which means bidding farewell and going back 至人全化, 跡隨世微。假雲泥洹, 言告言歸.”22 Here Zhi Dun identifies the Buddha with the “the ultimate person” (zhiren 至人) in the Zhuangzi, although the Buddha speaks of “having no self-­nation” (wu zixing 無自性) while Zhuangzi speaks of “having no self” (wuji 無己).

 Ibid. Ziporyn offers a non-essentialist reading of Guo’s concept of self-nature and self-determination when he argues: “A truly unique and definitionally unknowable principle is no long a principle at all. In fact, it is not even “the essence of” the one thing which it is putatively the principle: for Guo, it is rather a word for that thing itself, regarded in its true, uncognizable, uncaused nature.” See Ziporyn 2015: 406–407. 22  See Zhi’s Ode to Sakyamuni Buddha (Shi jia wen Fo zan 釋迦文佛贊) in the Collected Works of Zhi Daolin. See also Zhang 2014: 371. 21

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4  Freedom Within and Freedom Without Zhi Dun’s On Wonderous Meditation (Miaoguan zhang 妙觀章) is a treatise in which he explains how matter-as-such is empty yet at the same time separated and different from emptiness. He also argues that only in emptiness is freedom qua no-­ mind is possible. Owing to this position, Zhi Dun has been accused of misrepresenting Zhuangzi’s xiaoyao by giving it a Buddhist twist. That is, Zhi’s Buddhist approach to xiaoyao makes Zhuangzi’s freedom a mere idea (e.g., a state of nirvana) and abstraction that has no connection whatsoever to the state of affairs in the real world.23 I think the question here also links with one on whether Zhuangzi’s perfect person is the same as an enlightened person in Buddhism. The answer for Zhi Dun is yes. Zhi’s view is thus similar to that given by Seng Zhao, who sees the sage’s mind as non-discriminating and non-abiding as postulated by Zhuangzi. For Zhuangzi, freedom experienced by a perfect person can only be attained when one has a non-egoistic and mirror-like mind that is open to all things. Such a state of mind is called “self-forgetfulness” (wang 忘) or “voidness” (xu 虛). Likewise, for Zhi Dun, the idea of empty mind is the condition for one to be free from all forms of prejudice, bias, and fixed opinions. This is why Zhi focuses his discussion on Zhuangzi’s no-mind and the mind of the sage. It is through the emphasis of no-mind that Zhi Dun sees the identification between the Daoist concept of genuine illumination (zhenzhi 真知) and the Buddhist concept of prajna or wisdom. Such an understanding of Zhuangzi’s concept of xiaoyao impacted later interpreters. Lin Xiyi 林希逸 (ca. 1235 CE), for example, takes xiaoyao as “the heavenly wandering” (tianyou 天遊) in one’s mind (Lin 1997: 1).24 Freedom is then glossed as “wandering as one feels at ease” (youyou zizai 優游自在). To address this issue from a different angle, Herrlee Creel groups the Daoists into two categories: contemplative Daoism and purposive Daoism, claiming that only the former is the real ground of Daoism, while the latter is derivative and links to the immortality tradition in religious Daoism (Creel 1970: 11, 74–75).25 In addition, Creel contends that a contemplative Daoist is interested more in detaching himself from, and thus going beyond, those secular affairs, while a purposive Daoist is more willing to participate and find ways to handle ordinary and human affairs. Nevertheless, Zhi Dun’s interpretation intends to overcome such dichotomous distinction. In his defense of Zhi’s argument on the identification of matter-as-such with wandering in the realm of mystery, Ji Zang points out: “[Zhi Dun] says that matter-as-such itself is empty (jise shi kong 即色是空). That is why he speaks of wandering in the mystery without departing from matter-as-such. In this, without destroying unreal phenomenon, he speaks of reality … Zhi Dun is speaking of truth without rejecting the  For instance, Zhao Ming 趙明 in his essay Defending the Meaning of Xiaoyaoyou (Xiaoyaoyou bianyi 逍遙遊辯義) contends that the idea of “absolute freedom” postulated by Zhi Dun reflects a form of pure idealism that is not in agreement with Zhuangzi’s original meaning of freedom in that all kinds of the xiaoyao are dependent. See Zhao 1987: 57–66. 24  See also Machek 2010: 111–128. 25  According to Creel, contemplative Daoism represents “an attitude of a genuine non-action, motivated by a lack of desire to participate in the struggle of human affairs.” Creel 1970: 74. 23

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temporary [provisional] names” (Thompson 2008: 69). In other words, emptiness is dependent on matter-as-such; the ultimate truth is dependent on the conventional truth. According to Zhi Dun, Zhuangzi’s notion of spiritual fulfillment can be understood through the Buddhist idea of spiritual contemplation. As aforementioned, Zhi Dun speaks of matter-as-such as being empty, but it does not mean that all matters are entirely non-existent. Therefore, Zhi’s exposition on the theme of xiaoyao qua matter-as-such is a way to respond to the critique of Zhuangzi’s Daoism as being a denial of this world or advocating a withdrawal from active involvement in the world of affairs. For example, Xunzi 荀子 (310–220 BCE) criticizes Zhuangzi for “being blinded by heaven without knowing man 蔽於天而 不知人” (Xunzi, chap. 21).26 Yang Xiong 楊雄 (53 BCE-18 CE) views Zhuangzi as someone “who was self-indulgent and did not obey conventional regulations 莊楊 蕩而不法” (Fayen 法言, chap. 8), while Wang Tanzhi 王坦之 (330–375 CE) contends “Zhuangzi’s philosophy is guilty of promoting escapism and decadence 莊生 作而風俗頹”, which is well illustrated by the qingtan in the Eastern Jin period, and that Zhuangzi’s thought “is beneficial to few and harmful to many” (Jiang 2006: 152; Zhou 2001: 269–326). In his Essay on Abolishing the Zhuangzi (Fei Zhuang lun 廢莊論), Wang Tanzhi makes three points: (1) the Zhuangzi sounds good but is useless for the well-being of society; (2) the Zhuangzi causes moral decline in society; and (3) based on (1) and (2), one should return to the original teachings of Confucius and Laozi in which “one could find non-Confucianism in Confucianism, and Daoism in non-Daoism” (Zhou 2001: 269–326). Obviously, Wang intends to synthesize Confucianism and Laozi’s Daoism while rejecting Zhuangzi’s Daoism, which for him is too fatalistic and pessimistic. However, Zhi Dun does not agree with those negative views on the Zhuangzi. In his debate with Wang Tanzhi, he points out that Wang does not understand Zhuangzi at all. In fact, in the Shishuo Xinyu, we read that Zhi Dun and Wang Tanzhi did not like each other, with Wang calling Zhi a “specious sophist” while Zhi characterized Wang as being a “dust-and-filthy bag” (Shishuo Xinyu, 26: 21). We then find the following account of them both: Wang Tanzhi was not recognized by Zhi Dun, and accordingly composed a treatise on “Why a [Buddhist] Sramana is not Capable of becoming a Lofty Gentleman.” Broadly, it maintained that a lofty gentleman (gaoshi 高士) gives his mind free rein, harmonious and joyful, while the Sramana, although claiming to be beyond earthly ties, is on the contrary constrained by teachings and cannot be said to freely let feelings and dispositions come into their own (Mather 1976: 439).27

王北中郎不為林公所知, 乃箸論沙門不得為高士論。大略云: 高士必在於縱心調 暢, 沙門雖云俗外, 反更束於教, 非情性自得之謂也 (Shishuo Xinyu, 26: 25; Xu 1989: 450).

Obviously, Wang’s critique of Buddhism is in line with his critique of Zhuangzi since he sees an escapist attitude in both ways of thinking. For Wang, to be beyond earthly ties means abandonment of one’s social roles and duties, which leads to a de facto state of unfreedom at best and moral corruption at worst. Zhi Dun, however, rejects

 English translation from Knoblock 1990: 102.  See Li 2004: 246.

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such an understanding of both Zhuangzi and Buddhism, contending that in both traditions one sees freedom within and freedom without. He maintains that matter-assuch is empty spontaneously (jise ziran kong 即色自然空), and it is the same as freedom within.28 Thus, true freedom does not mean that one has to withdraw from the world, leading a seclusive life. There is after all “no two realms” (bu erjing 不二 境), that is, the Buddhist dialectic of “not two.” In his ode to Bodhisavatt Vimalakirti, Zhi Dun speaks highly of the doctrine of non-duality, relating it to what he calls “mystical sound” (xuanyin 玄音) and “mystical mind” (xuanxin 玄心).29 This nottwo principle, says, Zhi Dun, can be used to understand Zhuangzi’s concept of freedom in terms of both immanence and transcendence. That is to say, Zhuangzi speaks of a transcendent mind without rejecting the immanent world, just like a Bodhisattva who is able to remain undefiled while functioning entirely in the world. Along this line of thinking, we can tell that Zhi Dun’s statement of “thinging things but not to be thing-ed by things” resembles Zhuangzi’s idea of xiaoyaoyou, meaning free wandering, playing, and dancing in the midst of the world. It refers to a mind-set that is not confined to fixed ideas and norms even though one is engaged in worldly affairs.30 In chapter 20 of the Zhuangzi, when asked how to see the relation between worth and worthlessness, Zhuangzi replies: I’d probably take halfway between worth and worthlessness. But halfway between worth and worthlessness, though it might seem to be a good place, really is not—you will never get away from trouble there. It would be very different, though, if you were to climb up the Way [Dao] and its virtue [de] and go drifting and wandering, neither praised nor damned, now a dragon, now a snake, shifting with the times, never willing to hold to only one course. Now up, now down, taking harmony for your measure, drifting and wandering with the ancestor of the ten thousand things, thing-ing things but not to be thing-ed by things—then how could you get into trouble? (Watson 1968: 210; translation modified).

周將處乎材與不材之間。材與不材之間, 似之而非也, 故未免乎累。若夫乘道德 而浮游則不然。無譽無訾, 一龍一蛇, 與時俱化, 而無肯專為; 一上一下, 以和為 量, 浮游乎萬物之祖; 物物而不物於物, 則胡可得而累邪.

For Zhuangzi, this in-between-ness is not merely an affirmation of a middle position between two opposing views but a negation of any position that are held to be selfexisting and determinative. Freedom, then, is a form of mental freedom (i.e., not to be bounded by fixed ideas and norms) that can also be realized in this world. From the Buddhist perspective, this non-abiding position can be understood as a way of using the “provisional name” (jiaming 假名), such as dragon, snake, etc., to talk about reality (constant change and transformation) as it is. This view, I think, is not that different from Zhi Dun’s Buddhist position when the latter employs the concept of “mattering matter” (sese 色色), indicating that the first “matter” is used as a

28  See Zhi Dun, Ode to Bodhisattva Who is Contemplating on Goodness (Shansi Pusa zan 善思菩 薩讚) in Collected Works of Zhi Daolin. See also Zhang 2014: 444–451. 29  See Zhi Dun, Eulogy to Bodhisattva Vimalakirti’s Gate of not-Two (Fazuo Pusa bu er ru Pusa zan 法作菩薩不二入菩薩贊) in Collected Works of Zhi Daolin. See also Zhang 2014: 452–453. 30  Burton Watson’s translation is “treating things as things but not letting them treat you as a thing.” See Watson 1968: 210.

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verb.31 Zhi Dun takes matter as a provisional something, thus it is not completely empty. Epistemologically speaking, matter does not exist without being empty; or emptiness does not exist without matter. To follow this line of thinking, Zhi Dun’s well-known statement of “thing-ing things but not to be thing-ed by things” can be understood in light of “mattering matters but not to be matter-ed by matters” (sese er buse yu se 色色而不色於色). To further illustrate this point, Zhi Dun employs the Buddhist text Vimalakirti Nirdesa (Weimojiejing 維摩詰經) to propagate a non-dual position in that a Bodhisattva can be at the same time “both part of and transform the world” (Berkowitz 2009: 144). In Shishuo Xinyu, we read: Manjusri asked Vimalakirti, “what is the bodhisattva’s entrance into the dharma gate of nonduality?” Vimalakirti was silent and said nothing. Manjusri sighed in admiration, crying, “this is the real entrance into dharma gate of nonduality” (Mather 1976: 111).

文殊師利問維摩詰云: 何者是菩薩入不二法門? 時維摩詰默然無言。文殊師利歎 曰: 是真入不二法門也 (Shishuo Xinyu, 4: 35; Xu 1989: 120–121).

The Buddhist image of Bodhisattva is viewed as a Chinese “retired gentleman” (jushi 居士) that fits the images of Confucian literati or the gentlemen of Xuanxue and qingtan. Zhi Dun thus borrows the Buddhist image of Bodhisattva Vimalakirti to illustrate Zhuangzi’s idea that xiaoyao or freedom does not need to renounce the world to attain a realm of no-mind or a state of nirvana. To put it another way, one can use “things” to speak of “no-thing” and study the existence of matter to understand the non-existence of matter. Zhi Dun also uses the dichotomy between being active (dong 動) and being quiet (jing 靜) to expound the mutual dependence and identity (xiangji 相即) between being engaged and being detached. This both being engaged and being detached, or neither being engaged nor being detached, reflects the Mahayanic Prajnaparamita tradition. In addition, I think that the question concerning freedom within and freedom without is better understood from the Buddhist doctrine of the twofold truth, namely, the conventional truth (samvrtisatya; sudi 俗諦) and the ultimate truth (paramarthasatya; zhendi 真諦). In line with this teaching, Zhuangzi’s ziran can be divided into two categories: self-nature-as-emptiness in the conventional truth and self-­ nature-­as-tathata in the ultimate truth. Accordingly, freedom in the sense of matter-­ as-­such is viewed from the perspective of the conventional truth characterized by “doctrinal trace” (jiaoji 教跡) as Zhi Dun calls it, whereas the freedom in the sense of wandering into the realm of mystery is viewed from the perspective of the ultimate truth characterized by the mind of prajna. To illustrate this point, Zhi Dun borrows Xuanxue’s concept of “trace” (ji 跡) from Xiang Xiu and Guo Xiang’s commentary, using the concepts of the visible trace and the invisible trace (suoyi ji 所以跡) to explicate the Buddhist notion that the twofold truth as “two traces” which are ultimately empty (erji wuji 二跡無寄). According to Zhi Dun, what is labelled “doctrinal trace” indicates somethingness, such as names, concepts, and principles, and what is labelled as prajna denotes  Historically, there were debates concerning how sese should be understood in Zhi Dun. For instance, Seng Zhao considered it as “seeing matter as matter” (shise wei se 視色為色), while others viewed it as mattering matter (yuanse cheng se 緣色成色) in terms of causal arising.

31

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nothingness that is beyond any conceptual knowledge, as Buddhism maintains, prajna is not knowledge. To an extent, Zhi’s understanding of the twofold truth was elucidated by Ji Zang who takes conventional truth as a “teaching method” (jiaomen 教門) or a pedagogical means, and the ultimate truth as “ontological principle” (jingli 境理). In a similar manner, Zhi Dun views the ultimate as a “subtle realm” (miaojing 妙境) that has neither trace, nor words (wuji wuyan 無跡無言). Nevertheless, the twofold truth is nothing but two levels of discourse instead of two realities. The same principle applies to the twofold freedom Zhi Dun speaks of in terms of something (you 有) and nothing (wu 無), form (xing 形), and formless (wuxing 無形), and subtle (miao 妙) and not-subtle (bumiao 不妙), all of which describe the idea of xiaoyao or free wandering. Therefore, at the level of conventional truth, all distinctions debated in Xuanxue in terms of something and nothing, motion and stillness, or the hierarchical structure of ritual guidelines in terms of “teaching of names,” all belong to the world of dependence-origination, and thus are empty. Freedom in the sense of no attachment and no dependence belongs only to the ultimate truth as it cannot be conceptualized in words. It should be noted, however, that the so-called conventional truth and ultimate truth are only two different ways of looking at the same thing and they are mutually interdependent. As it is said in Buddhism, the ultimate truth illuminates what is non-you (non-somethingness) while the conventional truth illuminates what is non-wu (non-nothingness).32 Zhi Dun’s comments, it seems to me, are fully in line with his understanding of “New Buddhist Mysteries.”

5  Conclusion While Zhuangzi’s Daoism speaks of freedom of going along with spontaneity, Buddhism speaks of the same freedom as the ability of a bodhisattva to see or to abide with things just as they are. Accordingly, the Buddhist term tathata (suchness) is translated into Chinese as rushi 如是, meaning being-so or things-as-they-are. Zhi Dun’s “New Buddhist Mysteries” is encapsulated in his non-dual position that tells us that samsara is nirvana (lunhui ji nianpan 輪迴即涅槃) and that rupa is shunya (seji kong 色即空). Obviously, Zhi Dun uses Zhuangzi’s words to make his own Buddhist remarks on the idea of freedom and emancipation. For Zhi, Zhuangzi’s argument on xiaoyao expresses both the dimension of jise or matter-as-such and the dimension of youxuan or wandering in the realm of mystery. The difference between the two is that a Daoist is more concerned with saving oneself by gaining the insight into the true nature of existence, similar to an arhat in the Theravada tradition whereas a bodhisattva in the Mahayana tradition is more concerned with saving the world. In sum, Zhi Dun is drawing on Daoist ideas yet develops his own interest in Buddhism. His reconceptualization of Zhuangzi’s idea of freedom is both a Xuanxue and Buddhist treatise, which offers an alternative way to read and decipher the Daoist philosophy of freedom.

32  See Seng Zhao on the Buddhist scripture The Light-Emitting Perfection of Wisdom Sutra (Fangguangjing 放光經) cited in Zhou 2004: 201.

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Zhou, Daxing 周大興. 2001. “On Wang Tanzhi’s Abolishing the Zhuangzi and his Anti-Zhuangzi Thought 王坦之廢莊論的反莊思想:從玄學與反玄學、莊學與反莊學的互動談起.” Collection of Studies of Chinese Literature and Philosophy 中國文哲研究集刊, 24.18: 269–326. Zhou, Daxing 周大興. 2004. “Free Wandering of the Mystery-as-Such: Interpreting Zhi Dun’s Buddhist Xuanxue 即色與遊玄:支遁佛教玄學的詮釋.” Collection of Studies of Chinese Literature and Philosophy 中國文哲研究集刊, 24.18: 183–215. Zhi Dun 支遁.2002. The Collected Works of Zhi Daolin 支道林集. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Ziporyn, Brook. 2009. Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings with Selections from Traditional Commentaries. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. Ziporyn, Brook. 2015. “Guo Xiang: The Self-So and the Repudiation-cum-Reaffirmation of Deliberate Action and Knowledge.” In Xiaogan Liu, ed., Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, 397–423. Dordrecht: Springer. Zürcher, Erik. 2007. The Buddhist Conquest of China: The Spread and Adaptation of Buddhism in China. Leiden: Brill. Ellen Y. Zhang is Associate Professor and Head of the Department of Religion and Philosophy at Hong Kong Baptist University. She is also a research fellow at the Centre for Applied Ethics, and the editor-in-chief of the International Journal of Chinese and Comparative Philosophy of Medicine. Her research is related to Chinese philosophy (Daoism and Buddhism), and comparative studies in philosophy, religion, and ethics.

Index

A Actuality/reality 實, 14–16, 18–23, 26, 27, 29, 30, 33–38, 43, 44, 49–52, 58, 67, 77, 89, 114, 116, 117, 151, 170, 214–216, 234, 237, 244, 245, 254, 267, 270, 275, 281, 295–297, 301–307, 310, 316, 318–320, 325, 332, 334, 338, 353, 359, 364, 370, 373, 379, 383, 384, 386, 388, 403, 418, 444, 458, 474, 475, 503, 507, 509, 513, 515, 517, 519 Administrator of Destinies 司命, 444 Aesthetics, 2, 4, 6, 17, 34, 40, 251–264 Agency, 6, 7, 86, 153, 154, 160, 161, 269, 282, 284, 343–365, 375, 389 Airs 雅, 252, 338, 432 Alchemy, 7, 134, 141, 147, 412, 427, 429, 447, 449, 451, 452, 457, 458, 466, 467, 474, 476, 477, 484, 486 Arousal theory, 253, 258 B Bao Xian 包咸, 189, 191, 193, 199–201, 394, Baopuzi Neipian 抱朴子內篇, 411, 427–454, 484 Baopuzi 抱朴子, 7, 68, 134, 411, 420, 421, 425, 427–454, 458, 466, 470, 483, 486, 487, 491–496 Bigu 辟穀, 447, 492 Biographies of Immortals 列仙傳, 436 Biographies of the Divine Immortals 神仙傳, 132, 411, 427, 496

Body/form 形, 5, 14, 33, 63, 84, 106, 132, 155, 179, 187, 210, 230, 258, 271, 288, 303, 325, 343, 369, 403, 415, 428, 462, 479, 512 Book of the Jade Seal 玉鈐經, 430, 443 C Cao Cao 曹操, 159, 186, 209, 251 Cao Pi 曹丕, 186, 229, 338 Celestial immortals 天仙, 441, 442, 445 Celestial Masters, 59, 61, 64, 66, 87, 106, 129–136, 142, 145, 147, 413, 421, 457 Central harmony 中和, 85, 86, 113, 120–122 Change 化, 1, 13, 34, 65, 84, 111, 133, 160, 171, 185, 209, 235, 251, 267, 291, 303, 330, 350, 368, 400, 419, 430, 460, 484, 516 Chaos 混 / 渾茫, 30, 31, 69, 138, 142, 188, 216, 314, 457, 460, 467, 474 Chongyou lun 崇有論, 26, 268, 325–329, 333, 334, 336–340 Circulation of breath 行氣, 446, 448, 450, 488 Classic of Changes 易經, 1–3, 13, 34, 37, 40, 90, 111, 130, 173, 185, 200, 212, 214, 267, 268, 287, 328, 370, 400, 419, 430, 434, 438 Co-Arising 相生, 222, 224, 368

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 D. Chai (ed.), Dao Companion to Xuanxue 玄學 (Neo-Daoism), Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 14, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-49228-1

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526 Confucius/confucianism, 5, 13, 45, 63, 116, 134, 151, 170, 188, 210, 231, 262, 288, 331, 373, 400, 415, 429, 459, 518 Correlative cosmology, 156, 271–273 Counting destiny 算命, 444, 448 D Daodejing 道德經, 1, 16, 34, 62, 83, 103, 129, 150, 167, 185, 212, 231, 252, 267, 287, 301, 334, 343, 370, 407, 411, 431, 458, 479, 502 Daoyin 導引, 447, 450 Daozang 道藏, 59, 67, 82, 104, 130, 143, 413, 421, 423, 483, 484, 486, 487, 492 Destiny/fate 命, 7, 30, 43, 89, 113, 146, 151, 201, 217, 270, 271, 276, 303, 350, 369, 378, 383, 386, 429–432, 435, 436, 440, 441, 444, 445, 448, 486, 511 Divination, 83, 269, 270, 278, 430, 434, 447, 449 Doctrines of names 名教, 14, 30, 34, 48, 506 Double Mystery 重玄, 414, 505 Duke of Zhou 周公, 193, 430, 431, 438, 439, 453 E Emptiness/vacuity 虛, 19, 24, 26, 27, 41, 42, 81, 151, 167, 170, 171, 173, 198, 224, 234–236, 243, 245, 246, 293–295, 332–336, 356, 414, 439, 441, 443, 502–510, 513–520 Expression theory, 253 External alchemy外丹, 134, 147 F Far Roaming 遠遊, 416, 421, 422 Five agents 五行, 3, 15, 71, 87, 91, 92, 98, 142, 143, 209, 212, 213, 487 Five tones 五音, 21, 22, 97 Formless 無形, 21, 47, 50, 121, 212, 294, 296, 297, 311, 371, 414–416, 418, 521 G Gan Bao 干寶, 333, 412 Ganying 感應, 110, 259, 297, 369, 373 Ge Hong 葛洪, 2, 3, 5, 7, 61, 132–135, 137, 141, 147, 383, 411–425, 427–454, 457–477, 483, 484, 496

Index Generate/give Birth 生, 17, 19, 22, 26, 27, 29, 103, 116, 119, 142, 149, 155, 157, 168, 169, 171, 172, 175, 246, 274, 292, 306, 308, 310, 314, 335, 345–347, 361, 369, 372, 374, 375, 382, 420, 424, 460, 461, 463–466, 470, 472, 490, 493 Gentlemen/scholars of Note 名士, 27, 34, 188, 214, 520 Geyi 格義, 503, 504 Great beginning 太始, 219, 226, 419, 420, 467, 472 Great one太一, 63, 64, 215, 406, 407, 417 Guiwu lun 貴無論, 268, 338 Guo Xiang 郭象, 2, 19, 39, 86, 149, 182, 185, 212, 268, 335, 343, 367, 393, 412, 457, 482, 502 H Hanfeizi 韓非子, 45, 151, 170 Hanshu 漢書, 68, 81, 86, 88, 106, 150, 158, 159, 190, 191, 196, 336, 419 Harmonious Heart-Mind 和心, 253, 259, 260 Harmonious Sound和聲, 257–260, 262 He Yan 何晏, 2, 3, 5, 20, 22, 24, 26, 39, 41–43, 49, 167–182, 185–206, 254, 291, 326, 336, 338, 340, 345, 394, 412, 414, 418, 419 Heart-Mind 心, 22, 24, 25, 65, 217, 219, 220, 222, 225, 227, 231, 233–244, 246–248, 253, 256, 259, 263, 293, 295, 344 Heaven 天, 3, 21, 41, 58, 81, 108, 132, 152, 168, 195, 210, 230, 260, 270, 293, 309, 326, 367, 395, 413, 428, 460, 483, 511 Heshanggong 河上公, 3, 5, 66, 103–125 Hexagram Lines 爻, 276–279, 282 Hexagrams 卦, 6, 46, 89, 269, 294, 333, 420 Hou Hanshu 後漢書, 68, 88, 150, 158, 159, 190, 248, 336 Huainanzi 淮南子, 58, 62, 121, 136, 220, 223, 260, 414–420, 424 Huang-Lao 黃老, 3, 25, 58, 105, 113, 123, 156, 158, 209, 212, 215, 288, 414, 434 Huangdi Neijing 黃帝內經, 117, 119, 120, 123, 260 Huangdi 黃帝, 17, 223, 227 Hymns 頌, 68

Index I Immortal 仙人, 105, 106, 116, 428, 430, 431, 433, 436, 438–442, 445, 451, 458, 483–485 Immortality, 7, 13, 61, 104, 113, 115–117, 125, 187, 411, 412, 414, 427–454, 457–460, 462, 465–467, 470, 471, 473–477, 483, 484, 496, 517 Inner/inborn Nature 性, 1, 19, 20, 30, 49, 67, 75, 96, 132, 143, 149, 151, 153, 156, 213, 215, 217, 222, 224, 226, 231–233, 236, 238, 239, 243, 246, 247, 254–256, 277, 329, 337, 343, 344, 359, 369, 375, 378, 380, 382, 385–389, 391, 406, 411, 412, 421, 424, 427–429, 432, 436, 437, 439, 441, 442, 444, 446–448, 451–454, 465, 479, 481–484, 486, 488, 489, 495, 510, 512, 515 Intergrowth 相因, 7, 149, 367–391 J Ji Kang 嵇康, 2, 3, 5, 6, 25, 28, 43, 48, 65, 86, 105, 209, 210, 212, 215, 217, 229–249, 251–264, 412, 457, 485, 488 Ji Zang 吉藏, 504, 506, 507, 514, 517, 521 Jinshu 晉書, 170, 189, 252, 325–327, 333, 334, 336–339, 368, 482 K Kong Anguo 孔安國, 189–192, 197, 201, 204, 394 L Laozi 老子, 1, 13, 34, 87, 104, 129, 150, 177, 209, 231, 252, 287, 301, 333, 372, 409, 415, 432, 457, 518 Li Chong李充, 338, 339, 394 Li Shaojun 李少君, 441, 442 Libationer, 5, 130, 133, 135, 139, 147 Liezi 列子, 2, 30, 31, 160, 161, 167–169, 177, 178, 202, 226, 230, 232, 234, 294, 352, 482 Liji 禮記, 84, 248, 438 Lineage model 家法, 195, 199 Lingbao 靈寶, 413, 423 Liu Ling 劉伶, 20, 30, 31 Liu Xiang 劉向, 436, 437 Liu Xin 劉歆, 419 Lone-transformation 獨化, 7, 29, 149, 223, 346, 367–391, 516

527 Longevity, 5, 7, 62, 110, 115, 116, 121, 129–147, 157, 222, 234, 239, 409, 411, 421, 430, 438–441, 446, 448, 449, 451, 462, 479–485, 489, 491, 494, 496 Lu Ji 陸機, 339 Lunyu 論語, 20, 59, 167, 182, 185, 186, 188, 189, 198, 233, 287, 331, 393–395, 398–401, 403, 405–407, 433 M Mahayana buddhism, 521 Mandate of heaven 天命, 7, 270, 429, 431 Mawangdui 馬王堆, 58, 94, 123, 422, 479 Medicine, 26, 427, 430, 441, 442, 445, 446, 449, 450, 452, 479, 483, 490, 492 Meditation, 5, 17, 19, 29, 59, 64, 67, 68, 130, 429, 447, 449, 451–453, 460, 475, 484, 517 Mencius 孟子, 13, 58, 65, 66, 69, 151, 158, 170, 196, 200, 202, 232, 248, 430 Mutual dependency 相待, 4, 245, 278, 377–379, 381, 382 Mysterious Woman 玄女, 450 Mystery 玄, 7, 18, 34, 61, 130, 288, 303, 326, 413, 446, 457, 503 N Nameless 無名, 5, 22, 39, 42, 47, 50, 51, 70, 167–182, 202, 231, 294, 296, 298, 308–311, 371, 372, 418, 421, 462 Names and actualities 名實, 4, 15, 33, 35, 45, 50 Natural/spontaneous 自然, 2, 14, 34, 63, 82, 104, 153, 177, 216, 256, 271, 307, 327, 343, 368, 395, 418, 428, 489, 506 Nature 性, 1, 16, 34, 67, 84, 103, 141, 149, 180, 185, 213, 229, 254, 269, 306, 329, 343, 367, 393, 418, 431, 461, 479, 502 Neiye 內業, 7, 58, 64, 479 New Buddhist Mysteries, 501–505, 521 Non-action 無為, 4, 28, 30, 69, 109, 115, 121, 139, 152, 169, 175, 210, 216, 241, 319, 335, 349–352, 355, 356, 358, 359, 362, 369, 385, 423, 466, 481, 517 Non-dependence 無待, 30, 352, 353, 376, 508, 511, 512, 515

528 Non-mindedness 無心, 7, 30, 344, 352–359, 361, 364, 379, 513, 515 Nothingness/non-being 無, 6, 27, 34, 153, 173, 228, 268, 288, 311, 326, 372, 408, 502 Nourishing Life 養生, 3, 25, 242, 254, 356, 434, 450–451, 458, 479, 485–487

Index Ruan Ji 阮籍, 2, 3, 5, 6, 25–28, 30, 43, 48, 187, 209–228, 252, 254, 257, 333, 338, 412, 457 Ruan Xian 阮咸, 2, 3, 5, 25–28, 43, 48, 187, 209, 210, 212–215, 220, 222, 223, 225–228, 252, 254, 257, 338, 412, 457

Q Qi 氣, 7, 13, 62, 84, 111, 129, 161, 169, 193, 210, 231, 261, 292, 309, 329, 369, 399, 416, 430, 458, 479, 511

S Sage 聖人, 3, 15, 42, 61, 113, 134, 156, 167, 193, 210, 229, 254, 288, 329, 352, 376, 393, 428, 466, 502 School of Matter-as-Such, 504 Self-Attainment 自得, 253, 258, 260, 263, 347, 350, 374, 516 Self-Generation/self-So 自生, 25, 29–31, 48, 107–109, 112, 114, 115, 117, 118, 122, 124, 153, 154, 156, 161, 172, 179, 181, 268, 340, 345, 347, 350–352, 354, 355, 358, 360, 372, 374–364, 369, 372, 373, 376–380, 382, 384, 385, 387–389, 414, 502, 503, 505–510, 513, 515, 516 Seng Zhao 僧肇, 504–507, 513, 514, 517, 520, 521 Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove 竹林七賢, 4, 30, 209, 251 Shan Bao 單豹, 481 Shan Tao 山濤, 252 Shiji 史記, 236, 241, 417, 433, 434 Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語, 27, 158, 252, 333, 338, 339, 482, 501, 503, 510, 512, 513, 518, 520 Shun 舜, 115, 198, 354, 363, 398, 400–403 Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字, 194, 380, 413 Sima Tan 司馬談, 434 Six Breaths 六氣, 422, 489 Something / Being 有, 5, 21, 33, 58, 95, 106, 134, 156, 170, 215, 232, 253, 277, 293, 302, 329, 345, 370, 402, 430, 457, 505 Spirit 神, 6, 17, 34, 59, 87, 110, 150, 169, 189, 210, 234, 263, 294, 303, 386, 448, 466, 483, 514 Structural Coherence of Names 名理, 16, 33–53 Structural Network of Meanings 意理, 37, 40, 51

R Retaining Oneness 守一, 58, 59, 61, 64–69, 76, 144 Root and Branch 本末, 40, 42, 52, 85, 287, 382, 433, 476

T Taiji quan 太極拳, 480, 491 Taiping Yulan 太平御覽, 339 Taipingjing 太平經, 3, 4, 57–77, 81–99, 110, 111, 444

O Obscure冥, 28, 171, 176, 221, 257, 318, 347, 348, 352–354, 361, 362, 364, 396, 406, 419, 420, 449, 460, 472 One/oneness 一, 1, 14, 33, 57, 82, 103, 129, 150, 167, 186, 210, 229, 251, 269, 289, 303, 325, 343, 367, 393, 411, 427, 457, 483, 503 Ontology of change, 267–284 Original qi 元氣, 116, 180 P Pei Wei 裴頠, 2, 6, 21, 26–29, 160, 268, 325–340, 345, 390 Pengzu 彭祖, 213, 433, 440, 443, 445, 481, 485–488 Perfected/authentic person 真人, 25, 66, 72, 76, 96, 116–119, 132, 138, 139, 154, 234, 272, 355, 423, 440 Prajnaparamita, 501, 503, 514, 515, 520, Precepts, 129, 130, 132, 136–138, 142–147, 274, 435, 449, 475 Primordial Breath 元氣, 116 Principle/pattern 理, 4, 13, 35, 62, 89, 109, 149, 178, 190, 214, 230, 268, 295, 308, 327, 367, 402, 419, 431, 471, 484, 504 Pure conversation 清談, 16, 17, 25, 34, 60, 149, 158, 289, 298, 326, 412, 501, 503

Index Taixuan Bu 太玄部, 413 Taixuanjing 太玄經, 414, 415 Teacher Model 師法, 199 Three Virtues 三德, 110 Three Corpses 三尸, 444 Three Texts of Profundity 三玄, 1, 3, 8, 34, 212, 228, 269 Trace 跡, 130, 154, 155, 236, 328, 353, 377, 382, 393, 417, 510, 515, 520, 521 Transcendent/transcendence, 19, 29, 30, 43, 59, 96, 103, 104, 107–110, 112–120, 122–125, 132–134, 137, 141, 142, 144–147, 152, 176, 187, 302, 326, 369, 373, 411, 412, 414, 418, 428–430, 436, 452, 464, 466, 479, 489, 491, 496, 502, 505, 510–512, 514–516, 519 W Wang Bi 王弼, 2, 20, 37, 57, 94, 104, 149, 167, 185, 212, 268, 287, 301, 326, 345, 370, 408, 412, 458, 502 Wang Chong 王充, 3, 5, 71, 74, 149–162, 192, 203, 369, 370, 374, 375, 429 Wang Jie 王戎, 15 Wang Qiao 王喬, 431 Wang Yan 王衍, 21, 333, 336, 338, 339, 413 Wenxin Diaolong 文心雕龍, 48, 339 Writ of the Three Sovereigns 三皇文, 451, 452 X Xiahou Xuan 夏侯玄, 49, 179, 181 Xiang Xiu 向秀, 2, 3, 27, 28, 335, 345, 367, 369, 501, 502, 505, 508, 509, 511–513, 515, 516, 520

529 Xiang’er 想爾, 3, 5, 62, 66, 68, 88, 105, 106, 129–147, 421, 488 Xici 繫辭, 269–271, 274, 278, 328, 400, 430, 434 Xunzi 荀子, 49, 65, 66, 69, 170, 233, 253, 335, 518 Y Yang Xiong 楊雄, 196, 335, 414, 518 Yao 堯, 167, 174–176, 179–181, 214, 277, 376, 377, 385, 400–403, 446 Yin and Yang 陰陽, 4, 23, 42, 62, 81, 110, 168, 213, 230, 272, 330, 376, 415, 434, 461, 488 Z Zhang Daoling 張道陵, 129, 130, 135, 141 Zhang Zhan 張湛, 2, 3, 30, 31, 167, 169, 176, 178, 202, 457, 482–484, 486 Zheng Xuan 鄭玄, 190–195, 197, 200–203, 267, 394 Zheng Yin 鄭隱, 427, 483, 484 Zhi Dun 支遁/Zhi Daolin 支道林, 2, 3, 7, 501–521 Zhuangzi 莊子, 1–7, 13, 16–18, 20, 21, 25, 26, 28, 29, 34, 46, 48, 61, 66, 91, 130, 134, 142, 146, 150, 152, 153, 155–157, 160–162, 173, 177, 182, 190, 209–228, 242, 244–246, 248, 252, 254–257, 260, 267, 269, 275, 289, 292, 296, 303, 314, 333, 336, 367–391, 393–395, 398, 400, 402, 403, 405–409, 417, 418, 422–424, 432, 433, 435, 437, 465, 466, 472, 474, 479, 481, 482, 504–506, 508–510, 512–519