《唐玄宗御製道德真經疏(一)》Vol. 3

In his commentary on Chapter 19 of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), Emperor Xuanzong of Tang primarily expounds on how to restore society's natural simplicity by abandoning artificial contrivances. The passage can be divided into three layers of meaning:

First, the line "Eliminate sageliness and discard wisdom, and the people will benefit a hundredfold." Here, "sageliness" refers to those who deliberately establish rituals and legal systems, while "wisdom" denotes the worldly display of cleverness. Such artificial constructs breed hypocrisy and cunning, causing people to lose their innate nature. Only by abandoning these can one restore the simple, genuine character of humanity, bringing the common people a hundredfold increase in benefits.

Next, the text states, "Eliminate benevolence and discard righteousness, and the people will return to filial piety and kindness." In an age when the Dao (the Way) prevails, people naturally express filial piety and compassion without the need to deliberately uphold benevolence and righteousness. When social norms deteriorate, filial piety and kindness become virtues that must be explicitly emphasized. If people can discard forced displays of kindness and moral judgments, they can return to their natural, sincere filial and compassionate nature.

The third point, "Eliminate cleverness and discard profit, and there will be no thieves," explains that one must reject overly intricate artifacts and the pursuit of material gain. Thieves arise from greed—when people no longer chase after extravagant craftsmanship or covet others' possessions, theft naturally disappears.

Finally, the commentary notes that these three principles alone are insufficient to fully transform society. One must further "manifest plainness and embrace simplicity, reduce selfishness and diminish desires": maintain one's pure and genuine nature while lessening self-interest and cravings. This is the fundamental method for achieving the goals outlined above. Emperor Xuanzong emphasizes that to truly attain the state of eliminating sageliness and discarding wisdom, one must constantly preserve purity; to realize the elimination of benevolence and righteousness, one must steadfastly uphold simplicity; and to accomplish the elimination of cleverness and profit, one must necessarily reduce selfish desires.

This passage speaks of abandoning excessive worldly knowledge to return to one's innate nature. Humans are born with pure and simple essence, but excessive pursuit of external learning can harm this original nature. The so-called "renouncing learning" does not mean abandoning study altogether, but rather discarding knowledge that contradicts natural tendencies—those overly complicated pursuits. As Zhuangzi taught, one must cast aside worldly scholarship to return to the primordial state. True learning should align with innate nature, for such study brings no distress.

What difference exists between a reverent reply and an arrogant response? How far apart are good and evil? Both are words spoken from the mouth—reverence becomes good, arrogance becomes evil. The key lies in whether the mind remains attached. If one can see through the nature of learning and understand that all distinctions are illusory, they can transcend the duality of good and evil.

The arrogance and wickedness that people fear are indeed worthy of vigilance. Pride invites fault, evil deeds incur rejection—just as excessive pursuit of worldly knowledge breeds contention. Without vigilance and restraint, these tendencies violate and damage one's inherent nature.

If left unchecked, these harmful habits will gradually erode human purity. Arrogance, wickedness, and worldly learning all cause one to lose their true nature, so they must be resolutely abandoned. Without timely rejection, the proper path (Dao) would spread endlessly like a boundless wilderness.

This passage presents Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the Daode Jing, using vivid metaphors to illustrate the contrast between Daoist practitioners and worldly people.

Worldly people indulge in desires like guests at a grand sacrificial banquet (the "tai lao" refers to the three sacrificial animals: ox, sheep, and pig), greedily feasting on delicacies. They resemble springtime visitors ascending high platforms, intoxicated by the beauty of flowers and birdsong. Their cravings know no bounds, just as the poetic phrase "the night not yet half-spent" suggests—perpetually chasing external things, bustling through an entire lifetime in restless pursuit.

In contrast, Laozi (who refers to himself as "I" in the text) resembles an infant who hasn't yet learned to smile, his mind pure and free from discriminating thoughts. He follows nature's flow like water that naturally settles in low-lying areas, unlike worldly people who stubbornly chase after things. While ordinary people flaunt their cleverness and talents, Laozi seems to have forgotten everything; where others calculate shrewdly, he appears muddled like a simpleton.

Three sets of contrasts emerge here:

1. Worldly people reveling in feasts vs. Laozi's infant-like tranquility

2. People actively pursuing goals vs. Laozi's acceptance of circumstances

3. The ostentatious cleverness of ordinary people vs. Laozi's great wisdom that appears foolish

Notes:

• "Tai lao" refers to the highest-grade sacrificial banquet in ancient rituals
• "Spring platform" symbolizes scenic high terraces visited in springtime, representing intoxicating beauty
• "Infant" denotes the developmental stage when babies begin recognizing people
• "Flowing along" describes the natural state of following the current

Through these contrasts, Emperor Xuanzong elucidates the Daoist cultivation principle of "daily diminishing for the Dao"—true practitioners must continually reduce desires to return to the pristine simplicity of an infant's state.

This scripture primarily discusses the distinction between Dao cultivators and worldly people. Dao cultivators may appear dull and simple-minded, yet their inner being remains clear and awakened; worldly people seem clever and capable, but are actually bound by various desires and knowledge.

The Dao cultivator (sage) resembles one in deep slumber who makes no distinctions between right and wrong, like a melancholy person free from petty calculations. They neither deliberately display intelligence nor establish rules to constrain others. Those who enjoy flaunting their cleverness and creating regulations do so because they remain trapped in worldly learning and deliberate action.

True Dao cultivators maintain inner emptiness and stillness, undisturbed by external things, appearing indecisive like dim twilight. Worldly people chase after external objects without cease, while Dao cultivators seem foolish and crude, yet their inner understanding flows unimpeded.

Laozi teaches people to be simple like infants, seeking only basic survival needs ("seeking nourishment from the Mother"), preserving their original质朴 (simplicity) nature, reducing selfish desires, remaining unswayed by sensory pleasures, and avoiding pursuit of empty fame. The fundamental difference between Dao cultivators and worldly people lies herein: worldly people indulge in various actions and discriminations, while Dao cultivators transcend emotional desires and make no distinctions between right and wrong.

The latter section mentions that "great De (Virtue)" manifests as complete alignment with the Dao's patterns. The reason Dao cultivators' conduct naturally accords with the great Dao is their possession of supreme virtue. Through contrasting practitioners with worldly people, this passage illustrates how true wisdom lies in returning to原始 (original) simplicity and following nature's flow.

This passage explains the essence and manifestations of the Dao (the Way). As the cosmic origin and ultimate truth, the Dao exists in a state that is both indistinct and elusive. Without fixed form, it cannot be described as either fully existent or completely non-existent, hence the term "huanghu" (vague and fleeting) is used to characterize this condition.

Within this seemingly void state actually lie the embryonic forms of all things ("xiang"). "Hu" represents emptiness while "huang" signifies existence. The Dao gives birth to all tangible phenomena from this formless void, manifesting concrete appearances from its fundamental source. Though the Dao itself has no shape or form, within its profound obscurity resides the purest essence ("jing"). This essence is utterly authentic, possessing definite regularity ("xin"), and responds precisely to the needs of all beings.

From ancient times to the present, the Dao's name and function have never changed. Its generative power remains constant, which is why all things in heaven and earth depend on the Dao's operation for their existence. For instance, heaven maintains its clarity and earth preserves its stability—these are unchanging manifestations of the Dao's function throughout history. Through this authentic and unfailing essence, we can contemplate the primordial nature of all existence.

All things in their primordial origin follow the laws of Dao (the Way), each fulfilling its function of growth and development. The reason I can comprehend the original state of all things is precisely through observing this exquisite arrangement of Dao. All existing phenomena follow Dao's generative principles, and thus can be known and understood.

Chapter 22 expounds the principle of "yielding to achieve completeness" (while the previous chapter illustrated the marvelous functions of following ultimate truth, this chapter clarifies maintaining pure unity as a principle for worldly conduct).

Bending may preserve wholeness. The "bending" here refers to gentle compliance. When humans can yield themselves, accommodating external things without resistance, they preserve their integrity—hence "the bent shall be made straight."

Enduring injustice leads to rectitude. "Injustice" refers to external oppression, while "rectitude" means correcting distortions. As the Spring and Autumn Annals state: "To straighten the crooked is rectitude." Even without actively resisting external forces, if one endures oppression, the oppressor may feel ashamed and self-correct—thus one's integrity rectifies external distortions. Hence "the wronged shall be set right."

Low places become filled. "Hollows" denote depressions, "fullness" means being filled—this is metaphorical. Just as low-lying ground naturally collects water, maintaining humble virtue magnifies one's being. Through bending, enduring injustice, and occupying low positions (like hollows), one attains completeness, rectitude and abundance. Therefore "the hollow shall be filled."

Worn-out things renew themselves. "Worn" indicates shabbiness. Bending, enduring injustice and occupying low positions all demonstrate self-abasement. Those content with humility gain public esteem, their virtue renewed daily—hence "the worn shall be renewed."

Taking less gains more; grasping much brings confusion. Therefore the sage holds to unity as the world's standard. Seeking little from outside incurs no loss—this is "gain." Hoarding much invites contention—this is "confusion." This applies equally to self-cultivation and Dao practice: preserve simple, undivided nature to protect purity. Seeking diverse esoteric arts breeds chaos—like sheep lost through many branching paths, or lives wasted pursuing complexity. Thus the sage maintains unity without abandoning fundamentals, establishing the world's standard. "Standard" here means guiding principle.

This passage elucidates the profound meaning behind famous phrases from the Dao De Jing such as "not displaying oneself, thus becoming enlightened." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang noted in his commentary that when one does not deliberately showcase their virtues, their De (Virtue/Power) becomes more apparent; when one does not stubbornly cling to personal views, truth naturally manifests; when one refrains from self-promotion, genuine achievements are accomplished; and when one avoids arrogance, lasting progress is attained.

These principles stem from the wisdom of "yielding to attain wholeness." Just as water naturally fills low-lying areas by flowing downward, maintaining a posture of softness and humility ultimately surpasses rigid competitiveness. This attitude of non-contention with others ensures that no one in the world can contend with you. The ancient saying "to bend is to be whole" (委屈反而能保全) is no empty phrase but practical wisdom for living.

Chapter 23's "sparse words are natural" further clarifies: true principle does not lie in clinging to language. The notion of "sparse words" (希言) encourages transcending linguistic constraints upon comprehending the Dao. The natural Way neither deliberately pursues "being" nor "non-being," but rises above such dualities. Expressing natural principles through concise language represents the most sublime form of communication.

(Note: "To bend is to be whole" refers to how yielding brings preservation; "sparse words" means speaking less or transcending language; "yielding compliance" refers to harmonizing with nature)

The text discusses how spiritual cultivators should properly balance verbal teachings with the natural Dao (the Way).

A gale (referring to violent winds) does not rage all day, nor does a downpour last an entire day. A gale should disperse all things, and a downpour should nourish the earth, but if they are too fierce and sudden, they end up harming all things and cannot endure. This is like verbal teachings, which are meant to illuminate principles—yet if one clings to the surface of words and rigidly adheres to doctrines, one cannot truly comprehend the great Dao (the Way) and will instead lose direction. Thus, just as wind and rain should not be excessively violent, one should not stubbornly cling to verbal teachings either.

Who, then, can create such violent gales and storms? It is Heaven and Earth. Even the vast and boundless Heaven and Earth cannot sustain such violent states for long—how much less can ordinary people? If mortals obstinately cling to verbal doctrines, act with impatience and harshness, and fail to embrace emptiness, stillness, and self-forgetfulness, how could they ever reach the highest state and attain true enlightenment?

Therefore, those who follow the Dao (the Way) should align with its natural rhythms. The Dao (the Way) is supremely empty and endlessly transforming, flowing unimpeded through all things without stagnation. Those who seek to comprehend this profound Dao (the Way) should likewise hold no attachments or rigidities. Those who can align with the Dao (the Way) in this manner are called "people of the Dao (the Way)," for they do not cling to verbal doctrines but merge with the great Dao (the Way).

"De (Virtue/Power)" is the functional manifestation of the Dao (the Way), referring to how the Dao (the Way) operates within all things, allowing each to attain its proper state. Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) not only transcend themselves but also bring benefit to all beings. Sentient beings receive the nourishing influence of their De (Virtue/Power), yet those who embody De (Virtue/Power) claim no merit. Such actions are in perfect harmony with the functioning of the Dao (the Way).

"Loss" refers to those who cling to verbal doctrines and thus stray from the Dao (the Way). Verbal teachings are like fish traps (筌) and rabbit snares (蹄)—tools meant to capture truth. But if one fixates on the tools, one loses the actual fish and rabbit; similarly, stubborn attachment to verbal doctrines causes one to miss the profound truth.

This passage discusses several common pitfalls in the practice of Daoist cultivation and their consequences.

First, it explains that deviation from the fundamental truth of the Dao (the Way) naturally prevents one from attaining enlightenment. Just as choosing to associate with error invites error, walking with the Dao allows the Dao to embrace you, while accompanying De (Virtue/Power) enables De to fulfill you. This mirrors the natural principle of sympathetic resonance: a tiger's roar summons the wind, and a crane's call draws responses from its young. When humans align with the Dao, people from different regions and cultures can coexist harmoniously.

The text then analyzes why some fail to comprehend the true essence. The root cause lies in insufficient sincerity and reverence within the heart, lacking genuine faith in the Dao. Once doubt and attachment arise, people rigidly cling to literal interpretations while forcibly seeking liberation, only to sink deeper into delusion. This illustrates the principle that "insufficient faith gives birth to doubt."

Chapter 24 employs vivid metaphors to demonstrate the harm of forced striving: standing on tiptoes to appear taller ("the tiptoer") actually makes one unsteady; taking oversized strides to move faster ("the overstepper") prevents going far. Similarly, when cultivators constantly self-display ("self-revealing") or insist on being right ("self-approving"), they achieve the opposite effect.

Specifically: those fond of self-revelation always seek to showcase abilities and promote themselves, believing this demonstrates superiority. Unaware that this only invites criticism and fails to gain others' recognition, they ultimately obscure their own cultivation. Meanwhile, self-approving practitioners cannot consider matters comprehensively yet persistently believe themselves correct, striving for attention and fame—precisely preventing the true radiance of the Dao from shining forth.

(Note: In this context, "Dao" refers to the fundamental cosmic principle, while "De" is its manifested expression; both "self-revealing" and "self-approving" represent attachment mentalities that cultivators must overcome.)

This passage expounds the Daoist opposition to self-promotion and contentious striving, employing vivid metaphors to illustrate the dangers of such behaviors.

Those who constantly consider themselves infallible ultimately fail to gain recognition. Those who delight in self-praise never achieve true merit. Just as humility forms the foundation of virtue (De) and yielding manifests true propriety, losing these fundamental principles of the Dao renders all endeavors fruitless. Moreover, those who stubbornly cling to their own views and compete for credit only provoke needless conflict. Hence, those who boast of their achievements actually possess no real accomplishment.

The arrogant and self-satisfied likewise struggle to maintain their advantages. As the ancients said, "Perfect virtue (De) appears as foolishness" – truly virtuous individuals seem dull to ordinary eyes. Flaunting fame and status constitutes disgraceful behavior that invites public scorn and ridicule. Though the proud seek greater gains, they only incur resentment rather than genuine respect.

From the perspective of the Dao, such behaviors resemble leftover scraps of food or unsightly tumors. Leftovers provoke disgust, while tumors represent bodily dysfunction. Similarly, self-display and self-righteousness appear to Daoist practitioners as universally detestable dregs and excrescences. The Spring and Autumn Annals state: "People wouldn't even eat my leftovers," while Zhuangzi observes: "Though tumors grow on the body, they violate natural principles." Even ordinary people despise such things – how much more would genuine Dao adepts reject them?

The subsequent twenty-fifth chapter discusses the primordial state of the Dao: Before heaven and earth took form, there existed an undifferentiated unity (called the "marvelous origin" or "utmost emptiness"). This existence defies ordinary conceptualization and can only reluctantly be termed "something." This reveals the profound nature of the Dao – it precedes all things and serves as the generative source of all existence.

This passage presents Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the "There was something formless yet complete" chapter of the Daode Jing, offering a modern interpretation of the characteristics and functions of the Dao.

That mysterious origin (the wondrous foundation) exists as an undifferentiated whole, encompassing all phenomena. Tracing its process of generation and transformation, we find it existed even before heaven and earth took form, hence the description "it existed before heaven and earth." Silent and empty (in profound stillness), it stands alone and never changes, circulating endlessly without exhaustion. The term "profound stillness" here praises this fundamental state—serene and pure, thus able to remain independent and unchanging. Though it responds to all things, it does so naturally; though it pervades all existence, it never falls into peril.

It can be considered the mother of all under heaven (天下母), for this wondrous origin gives birth to and transforms the myriad things—all that exists is its creation. Like a mother nourishing her children, it sustains all things, hence the designation "mother of all under heaven." Here, "mother" signifies its nourishing function.

Laozi says we do not know its name, so we reluctantly call it the Dao (the Way), and further reluctantly describe it as "great." The "designation" here refers to describing its De (Virtue/Power), while the "name" defines its essence. This wondrous origin generates and transforms endlessly—serene and formless, existing before heaven and earth—making it difficult to define with names. Observing how it permeates all things, we use "Dao" to describe its nature; seeing how it embraces everything, we reluctantly call it "great" to characterize its essence. Ordinary things first have names and then designations, progressing from small to great, but the Dao first has a designation and then a name, revealing traces from its origin.

To call it "great" implies extension (passing), extension leads to distance (far-reaching), and distance ultimately returns (reversal). To be confined to one aspect is not true penetration. Just as heaven covers and nurtures but cannot support, and earth supports but cannot cover and nurture. Only this wondrous origin functions without fixed methods—though we reluctantly call it "great," it is not limited to "greatness." Pursuing it through "greatness" leads to extension, extension to distance, and distance circles back to the human body and mind. Thus, the Zhuangzi says the Dao is inexhaustible in the vast and omits nothing in the minute.

Therefore, the Dao is great, heaven is great, earth is great, and the king is also great. Having reluctantly called it "great," we proceed to list other great things: heaven hangs high above and covers all things, earth lies still below and supports all things, and the king governs with clarity and Wuwei (non-action), teaching all things—these are the "three greats."

This passage presents Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on core concepts from the Daode Jing such as "the Dao follows what is natural" (Dao fa ziran). In modern terms, it can be understood as follows:

The so-called "bounded realm" (域中) refers to a delimited scope. But the Dao is profoundly mysterious and boundless, not confined to any particular region. From our limited perspective, heaven and earth may appear to set boundaries, yet the Dao actually transcends such limitations. The concept of "bounded realm" is employed here to elucidate profound principles—there's no need to deliberately seek novelty for its own sake.

Essentially, "bounded realm" is a conceptual designation referring to the domain where all named and manifest phenomena exist. Within this realm are the "Four Greats" (四大)—the Dao, heaven, earth, and the sovereign. Among these, the ruler as the pinnacle of sentient beings can benefit all things when following the Dao, while losing the Dao brings calamity to heaven and earth. Thus, the special emphasis on the sovereign as one of the Four Greats serves as a warning to rulers to emulate the Dao's natural non-action (Wuwei).

The commentary then explains "humans emulate earth, earth emulates heaven, heaven emulates the Dao, and the Dao follows what is natural": Here "humans" specifically refers to rulers. The sovereign should emulate earth's tranquility and substantiality, then progress to emulate heaven's nurturing function, ultimately embodying the Dao's serene non-action to let all things develop naturally. Achieving this constitutes genuine alignment with "the Dao follows what is natural." Importantly, "following what is natural" doesn't mean the Dao imitates nature—rather, the Dao itself is the manifestation of naturalness.

The text refutes certain misunderstandings: Some mistakenly believe "the Dao follows what is natural" separates the Dao from nature, which would create "Five Greats" instead of four. Others cite the Xisheng Jing claiming "emptiness gives birth to naturalness, naturalness gives birth to the Dao"—this portrayal of the Dao as "grandchild of emptiness and child of nature," artificially establishing hierarchy and sequence, completely inverts the fundamental reality. In truth:

• Emptiness (虚无) is the Dao's essence—formless and imageless, thus called emptiness
• Naturalness (自然) is the Dao's inherent nature—uncontrived, thus called natural
• The term "Dao" is a provisional designation for its generative function

These three are actually different aspects of the same essence and should not be forcibly separated.

The Dao (the Way) of emptiness and natural spontaneity is itself the most fundamental and profound essence, requiring no deliberate imitation of external forms. Those who remain perplexed fail to grasp this crucial mystery.

Chapter 26 illustrates fundamental principles through contrast: The substantial serves as the foundation of the insubstantial, and stillness governs agitation. Just as the light flowers and leaves of plants all depend on their substantial roots to grow, substantiality restrains frivolity while stillness masters restlessness. Like a heavy steelyard weight causing the suspended thread to hang straight, or a tranquil mind naturally curbing gluttonous desires ("duoyi"), these demonstrate inherent principles.

Here the "noble man" (junzi) symbolizes the ruler. A sovereign should maintain substantiality and stillness as consistently as an army depends on its supply wagons. Abandoning these wagons leaves soldiers starving and freezing; similarly, a ruler's recklessness and agitation cause subjects to rebel, inevitably bringing calamity.

Even when possessing magnificent towers ("rongguan"), the ruler should remain detached like swallows in their nests. Indulging in lofty terraces, deep pools, bell-and-drum music, or song-and-dance extravagance only exhausts the people's strength and invites chaos.

Alas! Why should the ruler of "ten thousand chariots" (symbolizing vast military power) treat the realm with such frivolity? This "ten thousand chariots" refers to the Son of Heaven's dominion over a million well-fields (ancient land units) capable of mobilizing vast armies. The realm is a position of supreme value - the ruler's careless conduct is truly lamentable.

This passage contains Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on the Daode Jing, primarily discussing the proper relationship between rulers and ministers.

For rulers, as sovereigns commanding ten thousand chariots and governing the four seas, they should ensure their descendants endure for countless generations, establishing a firm foundation that remains unshaken for a hundred ages. Those skilled in building achievements govern the people through wuwei (non-action, aligning with the natural order without force), while those adept at preservation ensure the world returns to benevolence and virtue (De). Yet lamentably, some rulers indulge in pleasure, surrendering to selfish desires, ultimately leading to the collapse of their states. To satisfy personal cravings while disregarding the supreme dignity of rulership is truly pitiable and regrettable.

The scripture states: If a ruler acts rashly, he will lose his ministers; if a minister is hasty and reckless, he will lose his sovereign. Specifically, if a ruler frequently acts impulsively, issuing erratic decrees, it inevitably creates administrative chaos. The people and officials will scatter, with none willing to assist—hence the warning that "rashness loses ministers." This admonishes rulers.

For ministers, they should accept official positions and ranks according to their capacity, avoiding reckless ambition that invites criticism. If one resorts to pretense to secure stipends or employs deceit to seek glory, such impatient grasping will swiftly bring calamity, ultimately leading to exile or execution—how then could they serve their sovereign? Thus, it is said, "haste loses the ruler." This admonishes ministers.

This commentary reflects the Daoist political philosophy of "governing through wuwei," emphasizing that rulers must remain steady and ministers must know their place. Only when both ruler and minister abide by their proper roles can the state endure in lasting peace.