《唐玄宗御製道德真經疏(一)》Vol. 5

This passage presents Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary on Chapter 35 of the Dao De Jing, focusing on how rulers should apply the Dao (the Way) to govern the world.

"Hold the Great Image and all under heaven will come" means that if a ruler can uphold the Great Dao (the principle of natural non-action or Wuwei) to govern the state—without forcibly interfering with all things, allowing people to develop naturally—then all under heaven will submit. Like observing celestial phenomena and understanding the people's condition, one should act in accordance with natural laws.

"Coming without harm, they find peace and prosperity" indicates that people from all directions will be drawn by the ruler's virtue. The ruler uses the Dao to comfort them without causing harm, bringing peace to the world. "Peace" refers to gentle governance and education, while "prosperity" signifies great achievements.

The text employs the metaphor of "music and food making passersby stop": just as travelers pause at a household offering music and fine food, so too will people naturally submit when a ruler governs with the Dao.

"The Dao spoken from the mouth is bland and without flavor" points out that when a ruler educates the people through the quiet and non-active virtue of the Dao, it may initially seem plain and unremarkable—unlike worldly words that elicit intimacy, praise, fear, or insult.

Finally, the characteristics of the Dao are described: it cannot be fully seen, heard, or exhausted in use. This is because the Dao's influence is naturally harmonious—neither oppressive nor excessive in laws and decrees. Though seemingly bland, its long-term effects are profound, fostering simple customs and allowing all things to fulfill their nature. Thus, its function is truly inexhaustible.

[Note: The bracketed content provides additional context, explaining this chapter's connection to the previous one and emphasizing that it focuses on the ruler's strategic wisdom in applying the Dao—statecraft that should not be casually revealed.]

This passage explains how sages employ the Dao of expedient means to guide sentient beings. It first observes that human capacities differ between dull roots (poor comprehension) and sharp roots (keen understanding), thus requiring two teaching methods: "expedient" (flexible adaptation) and "substantial" (direct truth).

For those with sharp comprehension, a slight pointer suffices to reveal fundamental principles. But for those long deluded by ignorance, one must first use expedient methods to guide them. For instance, to restrain someone's desires, one might first indulge them, allowing them to personally experience desire's afflictions—naturally leading to restraint. The same principle applies to strength and weakness, decline and prosperity, taking and giving. At first hearing, this may seem contrary to reason, but deeper contemplation reveals its profound subtlety.

The "subtle illumination" mentioned here refers to how expedient means appear concealed on the surface yet produce remarkably evident results. As the Yijing (Book of Changes) states, only through humility and gentleness can one skillfully employ expedient methods. By first giving and then withdrawing, ultimate softness can overcome apparent strength.

The final analogy of fish and water illustrates: just as fish cannot survive without water, rulers cannot govern without authority. But if these strategic methods are carelessly revealed to unsuitable individuals—like fish removed from water—petty men may exploit them for deceit. Thus, crucial statecraft must never be lightly disclosed.

The nature of Dao is inherently tranquil and non-active (Wuwei). Its profound essence remains eternally clear and serene, thus maintaining constant Wuwei. Yet all things rely on Dao for their growth and formation—whenever there is resonance, Dao responds. In this sense, it can be said to accomplish everything without exception. Those who strive through deliberate action become constrained, while those who follow the path of Wuwei truly achieve fulfillment.

If a ruler can uphold this pure and non-active Dao, all things will naturally transform, and the people will return to their simple, authentic nature through benevolent governance. When people develop restless thoughts of forced action, the ruler should guide them with the "nameless simplicity" (referring to Dao's primordial, unadorned state). Here, the "I" refers to the ruler's voice: when people, having received proper teaching, should remain in Wuwei but instead stir with restless intentions, the ruler employs Dao's fundamental simplicity to calm these agitations and restore tranquility.

Yet we must remember that even the concept of "nameless simplicity" must ultimately be relinquished. It is like using medicine to cure illness—once healed, the medicine should be stopped; or using a boat to cross a river—upon reaching the shore, one should leave the boat. If after crossing the river one clings to the boat, or after recovery continues taking medicine, not only will one fail to reach the other shore, but new problems will arise. Thus, initially using Dao's simplicity to calm desires is necessary, but once desires dissolve, even the notion of Wuwei must be transcended.

When even the thought of "non-desire" is released, the world naturally returns to its proper course. This resembles healing illness—the key lies in the cure, not obsession with medicine; or crossing a river—the goal is reaching the shore, not attachment to the boat. The true sage's teaching follows the same principle: ultimately, people should forget the traces of instruction and spontaneously align with the Great Dao.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explained in his commentary on the Dao De Jing:

The highest virtue (Shang De) does not consciously display virtue—this is true possession of De. In ancient times, people maintained their simple nature and acted in accordance with natural principles. This state of governing through Wuwei (non-action) embodies the highest virtue. Genuine virtue operates subtly and imperceptibly, leaving no trace of deliberate effort, like the spring breeze nurturing all things naturally. Hence it is called "not displaying virtue." Yet precisely because of this, all things flourish spontaneously—this is the true meaning of "possessing virtue."

The inferior virtue (Xia De) constantly fears losing the reputation of virtue, thereby losing genuine De. This occurs when social customs gradually decline—while sages advocate governing through Wuwei, ordinary people merely imitate its superficial forms. Deliberately pursuing the reputation of virtue damages one's original simplicity, hence it is called "lacking true virtue."

Those with superior virtue practice Wuwei naturally, without deliberately seeking its effects. Their simple nature makes Wuwei their spontaneous state—they don't consciously adopt it after recognizing its benefits. This achieves the true realm where both inner being and outward actions embody genuine non-action.

Those with inferior virtue deliberately pursue Wuwei, making their actions appear contrived. While their hearts admire the state of Wuwei, they artificially imitate its forms. Though inwardly aspiring toward non-action, their behavior falls into the trap of forced imitation.

(Note: Here "De" refers to the concrete manifestation and function of the Dao. "Shang De" represents virtue most aligned with the Dao, while "Xia De" denotes inferior virtue. "Wuwei" is a core Daoist concept referring to an attitude of following nature's course without artificial interference.)

This passage describes the evolutionary process from Wuwei (non-action) to ritual propriety, and the behavioral characteristics at different levels of cultivation.

Regarding the manifestation of Wuwei (non-deliberate action), consciously attempting to display non-action appears artificial. True De (Virtue/Power) maintains inner non-action while exhibiting appropriate external engagement.

"Supreme Benevolence" refers to performing good deeds from innate kindness without seeking reward. Benevolence implies universal care - when the Dao prevails, all things naturally harmonize. Only after the decline of pristine simplicity did people begin emphasizing benevolence. The highest form of benevolence acts charitably without self-conscious virtue, giving without expectation. Though difficult to extend universally, this approaches the state of Wuwei.

"Supreme Righteousness" involves making judicious decisions according to circumstances. When innate simplicity was lost and notions of right/wrong emerged, righteousness became necessary to correct errors. This righteousness requires active engagement both internally and externally.

"Supreme Ritual" establishes behavioral norms. Ritual functions like wings assisting worldly conduct, created to remedy social decline. However, excessive focus on external formalities erodes sincerity, reducing interactions to hollow exchanges. When ritual gestures go unreciprocated, people respond with angry gestures.

The text ultimately identifies the root of social degeneration: after losing the Dao comes De, after losing De comes benevolence, after losing benevolence comes righteousness, and only after losing righteousness emerges ritual. As the Daode Jing states: "When the great Dao was abandoned, benevolence and righteousness appeared" - revealing ritual's emergence as symptomatic of moral decline.

Zhuangzi said, "The great Dao is often obscured by trivial accomplishments." In truth, the Dao is omnipresent—when we say it has "disappeared," we speak from the human perspective. In eras of simple customs, the Dao flows naturally; when worldly morals decline, people chase superficial achievements. As petty accomplishments flourish, the great Dao recedes; when benevolence and righteousness are overemphasized, supreme De (Virtue) withers. This marks the corruption of worldly customs—sages merely govern by adapting to circumstances.

As pristine simplicity gradually fades, people first lose the Dao and must settle for De. When De declines, they emphasize humaneness; when humaneness wanes, they stress righteousness; when even righteousness proves insufficient, they resort to ritual propriety. To discuss ritual codes in an age of purity would be either arrogance or folly, just as completely abandoning rituals in corrupt times would be either stupidity or deceit. Thus, the sage's intent to save the world remains constant—only their methods adapt to changing conditions.

Ritual propriety emerges precisely when loyalty and trust grow thin, ironically becoming a source of disorder. Later sages promoted ritual teachings to counter this decline of integrity. If all people were inwardly sincere, what need would there be for external ritual constraints? Using rituals to prevent chaos is but a stopgap measure—far inferior to the fundamental efficacy of moral cultivation.

Those who devise elaborate rituals fancy themselves prescient, yet they grasp only the surface of Dao, unwittingly opening the floodgates of ignorance. Rituals originally aimed to quell chaos through external norms, valuing harmony and returning to simplicity. But today's rituals emphasize pomp over sincerity, lavish gifts over genuine respect—this truly marks the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the true noble person (the Daoist junzi) establishes himself in substance, not superficiality; he seeks essence, not empty display. Sages first promote the Wuwei (non-action) teaching of Dao and De—this is called "dwelling in thickness and substance." Only later do they use ritual propriety—this is called "not dwelling in ornamentation and thinness." Thus we must abandon hollow ritual forms and return to the roots of Dao and De.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), and the state of all things when they attain "the One" (the essence of Dao).

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains that ancient sages did not pursue superficial rituals and formalities, but focused on the essence of Dao and De. The phrase "reject that and take this" serves to guide ordinary people's understanding, though in truth, the sage's realm transcends such distinctions.

"The One" refers to the harmonized primordial Qi (chonghe zhi qi) that balances Yin-Yang, serving as the fundamental substance of all existence. This "One" permeates past and present, eternally unchanging. The Yijing (Book of Changes) states "the alternation of Yin and Yang is called Dao," indicating how Dao-Qi seamlessly merges with these complementary forces.

The text then details how all things manifest when attaining "the One":

Heaven attains clarity through "the One," as pure Yang-Qi can canopy all creation;

Earth attains tranquility through "the One," as pure Yin-substance can bear all things;

Spiritual beings (Shenling) attain efficacy through "the One," gaining infinite transformative power;

Valleys attain fullness through "the One," with inexhaustible water sources;

All creatures attain growth and reproduction through "the One";

Rulers (Houwang) attain proper governance through "the One," unifying the realm.

Significantly, the text emphasizes that rulers who maintain this "One" can stabilize their reign. Through illustrating how heaven, earth and all beings flourish by attaining "the One," the scripture demonstrates Dao as the fundamental force sustaining all existence.

This scripture primarily explains the wondrous functions of the Dao (the Way) and its fundamental importance. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang observed that the harmonious state of heaven, earth, and all things arises from their alignment with the Dao's principles.

The clarity of heaven, the stability of earth, the efficacy of spirits (Shen), the abundance of valleys, the flourishing of all creatures, and the just governance of rulers—all these depend on receiving the Dao's transformative power. This passage first illustrates the benefits of embodying the Dao, while later sections will address the consequences of abandoning it.

Should heaven lose its clarity (by straying from the Dao), it risks fracturing; should earth forfeit its stability, it may collapse; should spirits cease to manifest, they could vanish; should valleys fail to replenish, they might dry up; should creatures stop thriving, extinction would follow; and should rulers abandon noble virtue (deviating from the Dao), their reign would surely falter ("蹶" signifies a downfall).

Commentaries further clarify: The teachings of sages endure to benefit humanity. Though this passage speaks of heaven and earth maintaining purity and tranquility, its ultimate message is directed at rulers—urging humility and adherence to the Dao. As the Classic of Documents states, while heaven and earth nurture all life, humans are the most spiritually endowed, and rulers must act as parents to the people. Thus, the sage's guidance, though initially framed as a reminder to heaven and earth about their silent harmony, ultimately calls rulers to embody these principles.

The core teaching is this: For heaven, earth, and human society to thrive, all must follow the Dao's laws. Rulers, above all, must grasp this truth—governing with humility and alignment to the Dao ensures enduring peace.

This passage expounds on the principle that rulers should take humility as their foundation. It first points out that a ruler's noble status is actually built upon the people, just as a tall building requires a solid foundation. Quoting the Book of Documents which states "the people are the root of the nation," it explains that if a ruler maintains humility and gathers popular support, they can stabilize the country's foundation. The Book of Songs describes "a gentle and approachable ruler as being like parents to the people," illustrating that rulers should possess benevolent hearts. Acting contrary to this principle would cause the people to disperse.

The text then explains why rulers historically referred to themselves with seemingly humble titles like "the solitary one" (gu), "the virtue-deficient one" (guaren), or "the unworthy one" (bugu). These terms demonstrate humility by not flaunting one's nobility. Examples are drawn from the Zuo Commentary, such as "the solitary one and several ministers grieve over the loss of our state," and "the late ruler considered the virtue-deficient one to be worthy." According to ritual propriety, one becomes "the solitary one" after losing their father and "the widowed one" after losing their spouse, while "the unworthy one" literally means lacking virtue. Though these titles appear self-deprecating, their deliberate use by rulers precisely embodies the principle of taking humility as fundamental.

Finally, the passage employs the metaphor of carriage-making: while a carriage consists of numerous components, counting individual parts alone loses sight of the vehicle as a whole. Similarly, a ruler's nobility is sustained by the people - pursuing superficial dignity while neglecting this foundation means losing true status. Thus rulers are admonished to cherish their people and never despise the poor and weak. They should neither position themselves as unapproachable like precious jade nor remain obstinate like common stone, but rather maintain the Middle Way (zhongyong).

This passage elucidates the Daoist principle from the Daode Jing: "Reversal is the movement of the Dao; weakness is the function of the Dao." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains in his commentary:

"Reversal" signifies breaking free from worldly conventions, while "movement" implies transformation. Ordinary people cling to their egos and deviate from the Great Dao, so sages employ expedient means to guide them back to the true path. As Confucius said, "One may stand firm in principle, yet not necessarily understand expediency" — these adaptive methods may appear contrary to common sense but ultimately align with the Dao. This resembles the way cherry blossoms first open their petals outward before curling inward to complete their form.

"Weakness" manifests the Dao's practical function. While worldly people admire force, the Dao conquers the unyielding through yielding. Gentleness and tranquility represent the Dao's natural expression.

All phenomena in the universe arise from "being" (you), which itself originates from "non-being" (wu). Just as shadows emerge from physical forms that themselves arise from emptiness, "non-being" constitutes the foundation of all existence. Only by comprehending this truth can one grasp the Dao's essence. The relationship between expediency and substance mirrors how "non-being" gives birth to "being." The true Dao is formless, nameless, and transcends all conceptual distinctions.

When the Dao-body (the noumenon of Dao) reaches its highest state, it becomes ethereal and profoundly still—neither dependent on external things nor bound by conditions. This state is neither a temporary expedient nor a fixed entity, utterly beyond the capacity of language to describe. The essence of all things, from the perspective of Dao's principle, cannot be said to either exist or not exist, for it has already transcended the realm of relative concepts.

The scripture states that "the myriad things arise from You (Being), and You arises from Wu (Non-being)"—these are merely provisional teachings established to guide ordinary people. If one comprehends the metaphor that "counting spokes does not constitute a chariot" (illustrating the distinction between concepts and true reality), one will understand that so-called "all dharmas" (phenomena) are ultimately nonexistent in essence. Since this is so, how could there be any talk of "expedient means" and "ultimate truth" giving rise to each other?

Those who truly realize this principle may be said to have penetrated the genuine meaning of the Great Dao.