《南华邈(文如海)》

Heaven and Earth

Heaven is honored and Earth is humble, so Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth) each rest in their proper places. The sovereign stands above and the ministers below, so the noble and the humble each have their graded ranks. Heaven and Earth transform and nourish the myriad things without selfish intent, while ruler and ministers cooperate like the body and its limbs. Therefore the one who governs can harmonize the myriad things and nourish the people, so that the hearts of all under Heaven turn toward him and the common folk in every region live in peace and contentment. The rustic elders know nothing of the emperor’s merits, and those who strike the earth and sing do not even feel they are living in the years of Yao. If governance can transform the frivolous and decaying customs and return the world to the simple purity of high antiquity, this accords with the intent of Heaven and Earth.

The Way of Heaven

“Heaven” refers to Heaven and Earth that possess a definite physical form; the “Dao” (the Way) operates through the function of emptiness and stillness that penetrates all. With only form and no function, Heaven and Earth cannot operate or cover the myriad things; with only function and no form, they cannot generate the myriad things. Form and function depend on each other, and therefore the Dao is the root by which the myriad things first come into being.

The emperor stands prior to the myriad things and calls himself “the One Man.” Even though all under Heaven honor him as the most exalted, he must still take the Dao as the standard for his governance. Yao and Shun attained the Dao and governed the people, so the people lived in security and the years were abundant; Jie and Zhou lost the Dao while ruling the realm, so the people voiced their grievances to Heaven. Wherever the Dao is present, the sage honors it. Thus the Yellow Emperor (Xuanyuan) once walked on bended knee in obedience to the teaching of the Dao; Confucius (Kongfu), after hearing the Great Dao, even felt there would be no regret should he die that very night. This is probably the intent of the Heavenly Dao.

Heaven is the name given to the workings of nature; “movement” means unceasing revolution. The heavenly bodies rotate to the left, while the sun and moon travel to the right. The sun moves slowly and circles heaven once a year; the moon moves swiftly and circles heaven once a month. The Five Wefts (the five planets) proceed in succession across the sky, and the four seasons alternate to form a year. Who sets this in motion? It simply operates of itself, naturally.

A ruler who receives the Mandate of Heaven likewise has periods of rise and decline, just as nature does. The flourishing and decay of political power are not fixed, and things continually change; therefore one must understand the principles of advancing, yielding, preserving, and perishing. Yao and Shun yielded the throne by abdication, yet afterward still caused the world to flourish; Jie and Zhou went to extremes and ultimately cut off their own lineages. So it is with emperors, and so it is with human affairs in the world. This is the beginning of the operation of Heaven’s Dao (the Way).

Constrained in Will

“Ke” means to carve or pare; “yi” is the working of the mind’s intention. What is meant here is that some people deliberately temper their will and elevate their conduct, wishing to appear beyond the ordinary, their aim being to win a name. Some throw themselves into the sea and never return; others clasp trees until they wither and die. Those who cultivate Confucian learning invariably criticize the Mohists, and those who cultivate Mohism likewise have their deficiencies.

Discourse on Swords

Swords are forged from the iron of the Gan-Yue region and made by master craftsmen such as Ou Ye, the famous swordsmith of antiquity. Drawn from the scabbard, the blade shines like a blue lotus; the sword-ring curves in the form of a new moon. On land it can pierce rhinoceros and elephant; in water it can sever the jiao-dragon. When Jing Ke entered the state of Qin with his sword, tradition tells of a white rainbow piercing the sun; Zhang Hua, in the prison at Fengcheng, saw a precious sword brought to light, its qi (vital energy) shooting straight toward the Dipper and Ox lodges.

Although such a sword can overawe the three armies, it remains in the end only the courage of a common man, not an implement on which a gentleman ought to rely; it is to be used only when there is no alternative. The truly accomplished “discourse on swords” takes worthy and able chief ministers as the craftsmen, good local officials as the smelters, wise officers as the fuel, and the people as the copper; it forges the edge from the primordial qi of heaven and earth, grinds the blade with the abundant qi that fills the space between heaven and earth, uses humaneness and righteousness as the scabbard, and ritual and music as the guard upon the hilt. Then great robbers lose their spirit, treacherous ministers lose their nerve, the people of every region submit to moral transformation, and the various tribes of the four quarters come to give allegiance. One who holds such a “sword” has no rival under heaven. This is the essential meaning of the “Discourse on Swords.”

The Old Fisherman

The original text ends at the chapter title “The Old Fisherman” and provides no main body.

After King Ping of Zhou moved the capital eastward, the Zhou royal house gradually declined. The institutions of ritual and music, together with the authority over military campaigns, all fell into the hands of the feudal lords. Heterodox doctrines of every kind seized the opportunity to arise, while upright speech was instead rejected. Gentlemen of De (Virtue/Power) could not realize their aspirations and could only remain among the common people, whereas petty men crowded the court.

The Fisherman went into seclusion, concealing his name and withdrawing from the dusty world. He steered a small boat, paddling and drifting, taking delight in seeking the Dao (the Way) among the rivers and lakes. He sang the “Canglang Song” in mourning for Qu Yuan and, leaning on a bamboo staff, offered ironic criticism of Confucius. He hoped that the sovereign would draw close to persons of De, keep at a distance those who advanced slander, and go into the mountains and forests to seek out followers of the Dao and visit reclusive worthies. In this way there would no longer be hermits washing their ears by the Yellow River to flee the world, nor would Panxi still hold those who fished in seclusion. People from distant regions would naturally make their way by winding paths to present themselves at court, and all quarters under Heaven would submit to civilizing influence. This is the purport expressed in the “Fisherman” chapter.

The “Lie Yukou” Chapter

The original text below is missing.