《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 75

Collected Commentaries on the True Scripture of Southern Florescence, Volume 77

Compiled and studied by the Wulin Daoist Chu Boxiu

Xu Wugui, Chapter Three

Zhuangzi said, “An archer who does not anticipate the shot beforehand, yet hits the target, is called skilled at archery. Could everyone under Heaven be counted as Yi, the legendary archer?” Huizi said, “Yes.”

Zhuangzi said, “There is no universally accepted ‘right’ under Heaven. Everyone thinks that what they take to be right is right. In that case, could everyone under Heaven be counted as Yao, the sage ruler?” Huizi said, “Yes.”

Zhuangzi said, “If so, then the Confucians, the Mohists, Yang Zhu, and the Bing clan, together with you, make five schools. Which one is right? Is there perhaps someone like Lu Ju? His disciple said, ‘I have learned your Dao. I can light a fire and boil a cauldron in winter, yet make ice in summer.’ Lu Ju replied, ‘That is merely using Yang Qi to summon Yang Qi and Yin Qi to summon Yin Qi. It is not the Dao I speak of. I will show you my Dao.’ He then placed two se zithers facing one another, one in the main hall and the other in an inner room. When he played the gong note, the gong string on the other zither vibrated in response; when he played the jue note, the jue string on the other zither also vibrated. This was because the pitches on the two instruments matched. Suppose he altered just one string on one zither, so that it no longer corresponded to the five tones. When he played, all twenty-five strings on the other zither would vibrate, and their sound would show no noticeable difference. Is that what you mean?”

Huizi said, “The Confucians, Mohists, Yang Zhu, and the Bing clan now argue with me, challenging one another with words and trying to overwhelm one another with their forcefulness, yet none of us thinks we are wrong. How are we to understand that?”

Zhuangzi said, “A man from Qi left his son in Song to guard the gate, but failed to ensure his safety. He wanted to obtain a great bell, but went to seek it with a rope tied around it. He wished to give his house to someone else, yet never stepped beyond his own boundaries. These actions all lost sight of the proper connections between things. There was also a man from Chu living away from home who, in the dead of night, quarreled with a boatman when no one else was around. He never left the bank, yet was enough to provoke resentment.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Hitting the target by chance, without anticipating the shot, does not count as skilled archery. If a chance hit counts as skill, then everyone under Heaven could call themselves Yi—is that acceptable? Zhuangzi’s point is that it is not. If everyone who hits by chance can be called Yi, then everyone who takes their own view to be right can also be called Yao. If everyone is Yao, why should the five schools criticize one another? This is just like Lu Ju and his disciple: both merely use Yang Qi to summon Yang Qi, yet they boast extravagantly and take themselves to be right.

If only one string is altered, the five tones change along with it. Without sound, there can be no mutual response; with sound, it cannot be entirely the same without any response. Here, only one string is altered, yet all twenty-five strings change. Could this be because the strings are differently tensioned or the pitches differ? Lu Ju used this explanation to boast of his ability to his disciple.

Yet they, too, merely answered one view with another like it. That does not mean they alone were capable of doing so. Each of the five clung to his own opinion and took what he judged right to be right. They were no different from one another, and none had managed to outdo the others.

Huishi (Master Hui) said, “I have never said that I was wrong.” He hoped to use this claim to prove that his position was correct. Zhuangzi then offered several examples. A man from Qi sent his child to live in another state and left him in the care of a gatekeeper. Before departing, he even struck the child once, yet failed to keep him safe. This was an unkind act on the part of the man from Qi, but he did it because he believed it was right. By contrast, he cherished his bronze bells and drums, fearing they might be damaged or lost, and so tied them up. Yet when his child went missing, he neither traveled far nor searched among people like the child. He never thought his own conduct was wrong.

Zhuangzi then gave the example of people from Chu living away from home and entrusting their child to a gatekeeper. Though they, too, were away from home, they failed to settle themselves somewhere secure. In the middle of the night, one of them climbed alone onto another person’s boat; before it had even left shore, he was already fighting with someone. Such were the actions of the people from Qi and Chu, and they never thought they had done wrong. How are these five people today, each convinced that he is right, any different from them?

Lü’s commentary says: The claim that everyone under Heaven considers himself Yi—the legendary archer—to be absurd. Huizi knew that Zhuangzi’s words were aimed at him and thought he could use them to argue: if one’s words are apt, one can become Yi; there is no need to wait beforehand—simply take oneself to be right, and one can become Yao, the legendary sage ruler. This is what it means to treat refuting others as proof and surpassing them as a claim to fame.

But if not all five people are right, then the claim that “everyone is Yao” cannot stand. If it is otherwise, the matter is like Lu Ju tuning a se, a zither: it amounts to little more than making one sound answer another. Huishi considered himself more worthy than the other four, but in fact he was no different from them. He himself also felt no different from the four. If he used argument to prove that he had never been wrong, why go to such lengths? He said these things to establish the claim that “everyone is Yao.”

Zhuangzi used indirect words to move Huishi. The bond between parent and child arises from their inborn nature, yet the man from Qi sent his child to live in Song and entrusted him to a gatekeeper, who failed to keep the child safe. This example means that Huishi slighted the inborn truth of nature and life, and did not know how to care for it. When pursuing objects such as bronze bells and drums, however, he tied them up for fear they might be damaged. Tang Zishizhong never went beyond his own borders. This is an image of Huishi treating rhetoric and reputation as things outside himself, cherishing them and fearing they might be harmed. As for the nature bestowed on him by Heaven, he lost it without knowing to seek it back. What a pity.

The story of the people from Chu living away from home and entrusting their child to a gatekeeper is an image of Huishi losing his true homecoming, yet competing with others where truth and falsehood, right and wrong, are blurred. In the end, such conduct is of no help...

Failing to accord with all things, and relying only on chance, cannot be called true knowledge.

Yi Du thought that hitting the target by chance was just like being skilled at archery. If one could call private interest impartial justice, then anyone in the world could compare himself to Hou Yi or Yao. Zhuangzi thought this was wrong, but Huizi thought it was acceptable. Zhuangzi then said, “If that is really so, then among the Confucians, Mohists, Yang Zhu, Gongsun Long, who upholds impartiality, and all of you, who is right and who is wrong?”

Lu Ju’s disciples could, in winter, take ash a thousand years old, surround a piece of wood with it, and make the wood catch fire in an instant, enough to boil a cauldron. In summer, they would fill a clay jar with water, boil it in hot water, then put it in a well, and the water would freeze into ice. They took this to be Lu Ju’s Dao. Lu Ju said, “This is merely like responding to things of the same kind. It is not the Dao I speak of.”

Lu Ju then had people tune zithers. One zither was placed in the main hall and another in an inner room. When the gong and jue strings were tuned to corresponding pitches, the sound of one zither would be echoed by the other. But if a string on the zither in the main hall was changed, the five notes in the inner room would no longer resonate with it. Pluck a string and its sound follows; the old pitch no longer responds. This shows that calling forth sound with sound involves no difference between them. One who can govern all sounds is the one who has mastered the Dao of sound. Lu Ju was proud of this, but using like things to elicit like responses cannot prove that he alone had a special ability. The five men each clung to their own views, just as Lu Ju boasted of his disciples; none had prevailed over the others.

Huizi said, “Now these four men are about to debate with me. I have not yet admitted that I am wrong. Does that mean I must take their views as correct?” Zhuangzi then told a story. A man from Qi abandoned his child in Song and left him in the care of a gatekeeper, stipulating that the child could come and go, but failing to keep him alive. This man from Qi was unkind, yet believed himself to have acted rightly. He would rather seek precious bells and use them to bind things than let his lost child leave the country. This shows that he loved strange objects more than his own flesh and blood, yet did not think himself mistaken. Huizi’s conviction that he is right is much the same.

Long ago, a traveler from Chu lodged in the home of a gatekeeper. At midnight, the gatekeeper went alone onto a boat. Before it had left the shore, he got into a fight with the boatman. He forgot the other man’s kindness and instead made an enemy of him. Such a person does not know where he has gone wrong, and is no different from Huizi.

Bixu says: Hitting the target by chance is not the same as being skilled at archery; believing oneself right is not the same as being impartial. The five men took winning arguments as their Dao, while Lu Ju judged skill by degrees of superiority. None of them knew that there was a greater principle shared by all. When the zithers in the main hall and inner room are tuned alike, their notes harmonize; once strings such as gong and jue are altered, the pitches differ. Therefore, silence…

The five musical notes take silence as their foundation, and are the source of all kinds of argument. Huizi, however, regarded eloquence as the highest skill. So Zhuangzi told the story of a man from Qi who maimed his son, using it to illustrate how people abandon what is truly fundamental and inherit what is incomplete; they prize material possessions, turn away from the Dao, and seek only to win arguments, never realizing that they are mistaken.

In the story, the man from Qi cut off his son’s foot and sent him to guard the city gate, a duty he would not assign to anyone with an intact body. He thought this arrangement was right. Later, he wanted a small bell and took especially good care of it, while failing to care for his own son. This was like leaving his son in a distant place and then going back to his hometown to search for him: a foolish thing to do. The character 蹢 is pronounced “zhí” and refers to a foot that, after being cut off, can no longer walk.

Taking up a post such as guarding a city gate is hardly a sign of wisdom. People who fight at night are struggling over things that are not openly acknowledged; those trapped in perilous places tend to become stuck in narrow views; and those who continually stir up resentment are bound to make mistakes.

The Kouyi by Yanzhai says: “The ‘target’ mentioned earlier refers to the mark; ‘aim’ refers to the objective. If one discards the target and simply shoots arrows, then anyone who hits the mark can be called Yi, the legendary archer. If there is no accepted standard under Heaven and people each cling to their own claims, then everyone can call themselves Yao, the legendary sage ruler. The five people each learned something different. Which of them, in the end, is truly right?”

Things such as cooking what is in a cauldron without using fire in winter, or making ice with water alone in summer, are indeed difficult to achieve. At the winter solstice, Yang Qi begins to emerge; at the summer solstice, Yin Qi begins to emerge. By summoning Yang with Yang, winter can be made less cold; by summoning Yin with Yin, summer can be made less hot. Though this goes against the seasons, there is a principle by which they can be summoned. Zhuangzi says this not to explain the Great Dao, but to describe a technique of limited sophistication.

Suppose a zither is placed at each end of a hall. When one is played, the other vibrates in response; notes such as gong and jue answer each other because the sounds are the same. This is relatively easy. If only one string is tuned, without fixing it to any of the five notes, one can play either gong or zhi; this is why it is called “unassigned”—it has no fixed corresponding note. If one plucks a single string on one zither and all twenty-five strings on the other vibrate in response, that is harder than gong answering gong or jue answering jue. Reasoning from the principle involved, all five notes take sound as their basis and cannot be separated from the sounds produced by the strings. That is why it is said that they “have never been different from sound.” How does this differ from summoning Yin with Yin and Yang with Yang? Yet people hurry to claim that they have bested others. Each simply takes their own view to be right; there is no genuine standard for right and wrong.

“Fu” means to resist or oppose; “zhen” means to make someone submit.

“Among the people of Chu was a man with an injured foot who served as a gatekeeper” is a separate statement and has no direct connection with the earlier character 蹢. It merely resembles, to some extent, the preceding story of the man who maimed his son and made him guard the gate. The three things mentioned here are also broadly similar to the situation of the five people, perhaps just as the earlier passage says, “if that is so.” The explanation of this passage should be attached here, rather than after “unable to incur resentment.”

The subtlety of this chapter lies in the way it critiques Hui Shi’s self-righteousness throughout. Hui Shi enjoyed arguing, so Zhuangzi deliberately used winding, difficult words to refute him, making it hard for him to understand at first. Dongfang Shuo used a similar approach when debating with the palace attendants.

Through the discussion of Yi and Yao, Zhuangzi reproves Hui Shi’s self-righteousness and hopes to correct his bias. He then gives the example of Lu Ju comparing his disciples’ strengths and weaknesses: Yang things attract Yang things, and Yin things attract Yin things. This is simply like answering to things of the same kind. But if one string is tuned to a different pitch, the other strings no longer resonate with it in the same way. All five tones are sounds, yet each tone has its own character. Those who can distinguish these differences are skilled listeners.

Strike the gong note and the gong note responds; strike the jue note and the jue note responds. This is resonance between things of the same kind and nothing unusual. Each of the five men clings to one position, so none can be called impartial. It is like the gong note responding only to the gong note and the jue note only to the jue note: they cannot communicate with one another. Hui Shi has not yet understood this. He thinks he stands above the other four, so as long as he does not believe himself mistaken, his position must be right.

Zhuangzi then gives the example of the people of Qi, who call the light heavy and the heavy light, going against common sense yet still believing themselves right. Then there is the man from Chu who lodges in someone else’s home and ends up fighting with the gatekeeper, without knowing where he has gone wrong. These examples build on one another, showing the depth of Zhuangzi’s affection for his friend Hui Shi—and why he repeatedly draws attention to Hui Shi’s stubbornness. The passage’s meaning becomes clear when read alongside what follows.

Here, “sound” is a metaphor for timber, while “tone” stands for the structural pieces made from wood, such as beams, rafters, and brackets. The “master of tone” represents the skill of an excellent carpenter. Beams and rafters each have their own purpose, and none can be dispensed with; the carpenter’s skill lies in putting each to its proper use.

As Zhuangzi passed Hui Shi’s grave in a funeral procession, he turned to his companions and said: “A man from Ying had some white clay smeared on the tip of his nose, as thin as a fly’s wing. He asked Carpenter Shi to chop it off with an axe. Carpenter Shi swung the axe, sending the wind whistling, and brought it down by sound alone. He shaved away all the clay without injuring the man’s nose in the slightest. The man from Ying stood there without changing expression.”

When Duke Yuan of Song heard of this, he summoned Carpenter Shi and said, “Try doing that for me.” Carpenter Shi replied, “I really was once able to shave off white clay that way. But my partner has died. Since my master passed away, I have had no one with whom I can work in harmony, and no one with whom I can talk.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Without someone who can remain still and work in harmony, and without a kindred spirit who can respond in conversation, even the most refined words and most skillful techniques have nowhere to be put to use.” Lü Huiqing’s commentary says: “For this very reason, Zhuangzi kept debating with Hui Shi, and deeply regretted that Hui Shi had not grasped the meaning.”

Yidu’s commentary says: Only through Huizi’s (Hui Shi’s) questions could Zhuangzi give his answers. After Huizi died, Zhuangzi lamented that there was no one left who understood his words. He then used the story of the craftsman Shi as a metaphor for himself.

A man from Ying, the capital of Chu, smeared white clay on the tip of his nose and asked the craftsman Shi to chop it off with an axe. Though Shi was highly skilled, he could display his craft only if the man from Ying stood still. Later, Lord Yuan of Song also asked Shi to do this. Shi replied, “I really was once able to do it, but the person who worked with me has been dead for a long time.” The “person who worked with me” was the man from Ying. Once he had died, the feat could no longer be performed. Zhuangzi used this story to say that losing Huizi was like the craftsman Shi losing the man from Ying. That is why he lamented, “I have no one to work with, and no one to talk to.” The story conveys the same idea as the tale of Boya breaking his zither strings after the death of his friend Ziqi.

Bixu’s commentary says: Many people can make their bodies like withered wood, but few can face a blade without fear. Many can wield an axe with skill, but few can swing one beside someone’s nose. A kindred spirit who understands at a glance and responds without words is rare in this world.

Yanzhai’s oral commentary explains that “swinging the axe so swiftly it stirs the wind” describes the speed of the stroke. Removing the white clay without injuring the nose is already difficult; finding someone willing to stand still is harder still. The man from Ying was the one for whom the craftsman Shi could display his skill. Zhuangzi’s point is that Huizi’s debates gave him the chance to express himself fully. After Huizi died, there was no one left with whom he could talk.

The truth Zhuangzi held was deep and firm, beyond the reach of ordinary people. Unless someone opened a discussion, he had no way to unfold its great principles. Only Huizi could converse with him, allowing him to speak at length about boundless ideas and give voice to the remarkable thoughts in his heart. Perhaps Zhuangzi used his writings to carry and express the Great Dao precisely because he had a conversational partner like Huizi.

After Huizi died, Zhuangzi passed by his tomb, recalled what had happened, and turned to tell the story to his attendants. This reveals the depth of his feelings. The craftsman Shi’s skill was unmatched, but without the man from Ying standing still to work with him, he had no chance to display it. When he said, “The person who worked with me has been dead for a long time,” he meant that he had never missed with his axe, while the other man had stood there without fear, letting him swing. Such a person was truly rare. Zhuangzi’s loss of Huizi was the same.

The phrase “I have no one to work with” is not easy to explain. Looking closely at the original meaning, the earlier statement, “The person who worked with me has been dead for a long time,” means that to demonstrate the skill of chopping with an axe, one needs someone who is not afraid of the blade and does not move. After Huizi’s death, even if there were still people in the world, there was no one who could engage Zhuangzi in debate. In this sense, it was as though he had no one to work with. That is to say, there was no one left in the world who understood him and could bring out his thoughts through their exchange…

Zhuangzi once discussed matters with Huizi, and his words reveal the profound grief he felt at his friend’s death. During his lifetime, Huizi often mocked Zhuangzi, yet Zhuangzi always did his utmost to counsel and correct him. Although this earned Zhuangzi a reputation for skill in debate, what he sought was refined and elegant conversation, so that people would not fall into the deceitful habits of the persuaders of the time. Their friendship also shows the strength of challenging one another and learning from a friend.

Thus, even after Huizi died, Zhuangzi continued to miss him deeply. In the passage, the phrase “listen, then hew” is explained in Guo Xiang’s commentary as “close your eyes and let your hand wield the axe.” However, the edition of Bixu zhao Jiangnan held in the Li family library states that these four characters originally belonged to the main text, and that later readers mistakenly cited them as Guo Xiang’s commentary. This judgment rests on the fact that their style does not resemble a commentator’s note.