《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 86

The Second Chapter: “External Things”

A Confucian scholar used the Book of Odes and the rites as cover while robbing a tomb. The leading scholar called down to his men, “It’s nearly dawn in the east. How are things going?”

A junior scholar replied, “We haven’t yet loosened the dead man’s clothes. I’ve heard he has a pearl in his mouth. There is indeed a verse like this in the Book of Odes.”

The leading scholar said, “‘Green, green, the wheat grows on the hillside. He would not give anything while alive, so why should he have a pearl in his mouth after death?’ Now seize him by the temples, hold down his beard, and use a gold hammer to break open his jaw. Slowly pry apart his cheeks, and don’t damage the pearl in his mouth.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary: The Book of Odes and the rites are traces left by the former kings. Unless the right people take them up, the Dao will not circulate on its own. So when Confucian scholars use the Odes and the rites as tools for wrongdoing, we can see that a person cannot be judged by the traces left by the ancients alone.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary: When petty Confucian scholars borrow the words of the former kings to carry out their own unrighteous deeds, how is that any different from robbing a tomb?

Yidu’s commentary: The age of the former kings is long past. Some Confucian scholars use their words as a pretext for theft, even going so far as to rob tombs. They quote an old poem to mock the dead man in the tomb, while also confirming that he really does have a pearl in his mouth, so they can take it. The legacy of benevolence and righteousness has a great influence, which is why Tian Heng seized a state in the name of benevolence and righteousness. The influence of the Odes and the Documents is smaller, so Confucian scholars invoke them to justify tomb robbery. If people begin by doing evil in the name of the Odes and the rites, they may go on to act in the name of benevolence and righteousness. And if the impulse to rob tombs is allowed to grow, it may become an impulse to steal a state. We must therefore be on our guard.

Bixu’s commentary: The Odes guide the mind, and the rites regulate conduct. Both are teachings left by the former kings to help govern. The noble person cultivates himself through the Odes and the rites, while the petty person recites them to conceal his theft. There are few noble people and many petty ones. So the sages’ teachings have brought little benefit to the world and, instead, caused much harm. Tomb robbers do not dig up the graves of Boyi and Shuqi; they choose the graves of Jie and Zhou, perhaps because the latter were buried with valuables that invited theft. Laozi therefore warned people in earnest: the more you store up, the greater the loss when it comes.

Yanzhai’s Oral Commentary: This story mocks the persuaders of that time, who used the words of sages and worthies to conceal their wicked deeds. “Passing the message down” means relaying it from above to those below. Here, the leading Confucian scholar gives the order, then passes it down to the men beneath him. The lines beginning “Green, green, the wheat” describe the fields around the tomb; the next two lines mock the rich. These are lost verses from antiquity. The passage beginning “Seize him by the temples” tells the men to grab the dead man by the hair and take the pearl from his mouth, while making sure not to damage it.

The Odes and the rites were originally meant to put the way of government in order and prevent the customs of the age from changing…

This passage conveys two main ideas: the first half critiques the flaws of contemporary social rituals and legal systems, while the second half reveals the way of the sage through a dialogue between Confucius and Lao Laizi.

The social critique begins by noting that sages (those who have attained the Dao) are not always present in the world, so their considerations are profoundly far-reaching, aiming to thoroughly eradicate the ills of society. Rituals and laws were originally meant to complement each other, but in an era of collapsing rites, some people exploit these systems to commit evil, even going so far as to desecrate graves without remorse. This not only harms the living but also disturbs the peace of the dead. Ironically, these individuals even quote the Book of Songs to justify their actions, utterly misapplying its teachings. Zhuangzi (the Nanhua Zhenren) deeply laments this state of affairs but, powerless to change it, can only express his sentiments through allegorical stories.

The passage then uses the example of Lu State, which boasted many Confucian scholars but had few genuine ones, to illustrate that this critique is not mere empty talk. The author aims to rectify people's hearts and correct moral education through criticism, guiding them to properly practice the way of poetry and ritual while warning against the excesses of lavish burials and advocating for simplicity. This would greatly benefit social governance.

The latter half recounts the story of Confucius and Lao Laizi. Lao Laizi's disciple, while gathering firewood, encounters Confucius and describes him as having "a long upper body and short lower body, a slightly hunched back, ears pressed close to his head, and eyes that seem preoccupied with managing the affairs of the world." Upon hearing this, Lao Laizi immediately recognizes Confucius and summons him, pointing out that to become a true noble person, one must humble oneself and restrain one's cleverness. Confucius respectfully withdraws, his expression changed, and asks how to improve. Lao Laizi responds: "Those who cannot bear to see the suffering of the world yet leave calamities for future generations—are they lacking in vision or in strategy? Seeking favor through benevolence will ultimately bring disgrace; this is the way of ordinary people. Rather than praising Emperor Yao and criticizing the tyrant Jie, it is better to forget such judgments altogether. The sage always reflects deeply before acting, hence achieving success. Alas, you (Confucius) remain burdened by pride."

Guo Xiang (in his commentary) adds that the description of Confucius's physical traits—such as his "long upper body and short lower body"—indicates that he appears perpetually preoccupied with others' affairs, showing he has yet to attain the state of forgetting the physical form and transcending cleverness. Confucius's bowing and withdrawal signify his acceptance of Lao Laizi's teaching. This dialogue, in essence, uses Lao Laizi's words to elucidate the Dao.

One should not act merely to meet the needs of an age, for the traces such actions leave may become calamities for later generations. Let things follow their natural course and transform of themselves: then the people’s nature will not be stifled, each person can make the most of their strengths, and their work will not fall short.

If people rejoice only because they have received favors, then when the favors cease they will grow resentful. Favors cannot last forever, so once they stop, they may bring lifelong resentment. The point is that granting favors easily makes people dependent, so they should not be dispensed carelessly. To correct and guide people by means of rules is what is called “advancing.” When one follows one’s nature, life can be preserved; when one remains quiet and undisturbed, things fall into proper order. If one’s actions do not depart from the root, achievements often come about of themselves. Do not boast of your accomplishments or claim them as your own.

Lü’s commentary says: Laozi and Confucius were not originally at odds. Later followers of Confucius clung to his outward conduct but failed to understand his true intention; that is why Zhuangzi made remarks of this kind. The passage from “raising the upper and pressing down the lower” to “whose son is he?” criticizes those who judge sages solely by their appearance. Someone who is constantly proud of himself, even if he has accomplishments and insight, cannot be said to possess great De. Those who truly have great De may instead appear dull-witted.

The great disorder under Heaven began in the age of Yao and Shun. If, unable to bear seeing people suffer in a particular age, one forces oneself to act in order to save them, one may bring even greater calamity upon later generations. Must the people’s once-prosperous lives inevitably become impoverished? Or is it because those who govern have lost their capacity to plan that the people fall short? None of these explanations gets to the root of the matter. Favor-giving is not, in itself, a mark of wisdom. If one rushes about to win people’s approval, one may ultimately provoke lasting resentment. Even so, people in the world still exercise some restraint. As for currying one another’s favor to gain a reputation, or associating with one another to acquire a reputation for reclusion, these are merely ordinary practices. How could one expect a gentleman who embodies the Dao to behave in the same way?

If one cannot wholly set aside the name of sage and wisdom, or forget distinctions between good and evil, then everything one does may become a restless pursuit that leaves trouble for later generations. The Dao does everything without forcing; to act by going against nature is always harmful. When one begins to act despite having no need to do so, it is easy to stray into deviant ways. What is there, then, that deserves special reverence and praise? “Cautious, as if crossing a stream in winter; wary, as if mindful of one’s neighbors on all sides” means acting with hesitation and care, like someone crossing a river in winter or being mindful of the people nearby. If so, why carry one’s accomplishments on one’s back and claim them as one’s own? If one does not pride oneself on them, there is no need to do so.

Yidu’s commentary says that “the shoulders droop and the back bends, as though hunched over” describes someone stooping with a curved back. “The noble person behind looks upon them as if surveying the whole world” means that the gaze is broad and not partial to oneself. “Pride in one’s own person” and “knowledge in one’s bearing” refer to having yet to leave behind the practices of managing and ordering the world. Even with such accomplishments, one does not necessarily thereby advance toward the Dao. Benevolence, righteousness, sagehood, and wisdom were methods that sages put into practice in their own time because they could not bear to see the people harmed. Later generations, however, may cling to these outward practices and take them as principles for governing the world. The result is that people are humiliated, made narrow-minded, and impoverished; they also forget the principles of simplicity and naturalness, and drift ever farther from the true Dao.

Then people of middling ability whose conduct is flawed can also be guided and improved step by step until they reach a higher level. Why regard only bestowing favors as good? Bestowing favors is what petty people value, so the gentleman rejects it. People recommend one another in pursuit of fame; they form friendships to scheme for a life of reclusion. Seeking fame means sharing the world’s troubles; taking pleasure in reclusion means satisfying one’s own desires. Both approaches are one-sided. People of middling ability should be left to forget one another, and words of praise should be restrained: there should be neither right nor wrong.

When a person’s nature departs from what is natural, it is harmed; by following one’s nature, one preserves oneself. Agitation leads to deviance; stillness brings rectitude. Acting with ease, without rushing to achieve results, accords with the principles of nature and life and often brings success. Rushing to achieve results, by contrast, keeps one from one’s aim. Confucius carried the Dao on his travels, yet at the time he showed an air of self-satisfaction. Lao Laizi, a recluse of the Spring and Autumn period, admonished him with these words.

Bixu’s Commentary: “Self-regard” here means that he wanted to make his integrity known. “Knowing” means that he was about to startle the ignorant. Both displays should therefore be put aside. The harm of a single generation refers to temporary troubles in the world; tolerance and reserve may, for a time, help one avoid them. The harm of ten thousand generations refers to leaving behind a record of arrogance and conceit, from which there is no rescue. Lao Laizi also asked Confucius: Did you travel among the states, endure hardship, and hold fast to the Way only to end up poor and destitute? Or was it because your plans fell short and your achievements did not match those of others? Taking pleasure in bestowing favors while looking down on others is something the sage abhors. People of middling ability are easily led: when the world is at peace, they recommend one another to gain fame; when it is in turmoil, they form friendships and withdraw into reclusion. Confucius’s writings praise Yao and criticize Jie. If all traces of the sage were erased, what would remain to praise or condemn? Those who accord with the world do not oppose it, and so preserve themselves; those whose hearts are still are not disturbed, and so keep themselves upright. The sage follows the Dao with ease, and achievements come of themselves. If one does not claim credit even for what one has achieved, how much less should one do so when one has achieved nothing? Forget words, and there is nothing to burden you; record achievements, and you will boast of your reputation.

Yanzhai’s Oral Commentary: “Slightly bent” means that his back was faintly hunched and his gaze looked as if he were managing the affairs of the world. “Worried gaze” means being anxious about worldly affairs. “Be self-regarding in your conduct” means that you are stiffening your behavior and polishing your outward bearing. “Knowing and deliberating” means that you devote much thought to schemes and plans. “Ao” means the same as “proud.” Since you are like this, you will naturally fall into difficulty. People recommend one another for fame and form friendships to plot a life of reclusion; these are all things done by mediocre people. If one can forget both Yao and Jie, there will be neither slander nor praise. “Turning back” means departing from the natural order. Agitation without the ability to be still leads to deviance at every turn. The sage responds only when compelled, and so often succeeds. Why make self-importance and conceit your aim?

A disciple of Lao Laizi used three phrases to describe Confucius’s appearance and bearing; the final phrase …

This passage seems to have grasped the sage’s intentions; without extraordinary insight, it would be hard to make such a judgment. It resembles what the gatekeeper Guan Yuzhang wrote about Confucius. Confucius’s teacher already understood his thoughts. This is how the minds of sages and worthies can be in harmony.

Confucius openly boasting that he possessed both bodily and spiritual completeness was self-aggrandizement. A haughty bearing, excessive knowledge, and excessive scheming can all invite calamity, and should therefore be cast aside. The original text’s wu is written as ao in some versions; here it means rushing about eagerly in pursuit of something. Confucius could not bear to see the people suffer, even briefly, so he tried to help them through benevolence and righteousness. Later generations pursued the outward forms of these practices, and over time they became a failing: people busied themselves without end.

Or was Confucius simply content with poverty and unwilling to take office? Or did he fail to foresee the consequences because he made no plans? Yet why was his desire to benefit others so plainly visible, impossible to conceal? In fact, this is a mockery of Confucius’s endless travels and attempts to persuade rulers to employ him, which only left him exhausted in body and mind. To spend one’s whole life in such restless activity is shameful. This is no more than ordinary people’s behavior: when they gain influence, they court one another to seek fame; when they withdraw, they associate with one another to win a reputation for reclusion. The saying “praise Yao and condemn Jie” arose from this as well. If one could forget all judgments of right and wrong, praise and blame, would there still be any need to distinguish Yao from Jie?

“Returning” means that, as discussed above, one has failed to forget both sides. If love and aversion remain in the heart, one is harmed along with external things. “Acting” means that the heart has no settled view: one welcomes praise and dislikes slander, choosing and rejecting in response to changes in external things. Acting this way leads one onto a crooked path. Thus the sage waits for the right moment to act and advances things gradually, often succeeding. How can someone rely on their own abilities and still avoid becoming arrogant?

The relationship between Confucius and Lao Laizi, the recluse of Daoist legend, is like that between Yao and Xu You, the legendary figure who refused the throne and chose a life of seclusion. Here, the True Man of Nanhua (Zhuangzi) uses a parable to warn those who do not know how to wait for the right moment and who force themselves to act in pursuit of fame; he is not truly trying to disparage Confucius.

One night, Lord Yuan of Song dreamed of a person with disheveled hair peering in beside the palace gate. The person said, “I came from the deep pool at Zailu. I am an envoy of the Qing River, commissioned to go to the Earl of the River. The fisherman Yu Qie caught me.” When Lord Yuan awoke, he sent for a diviner. The diviner said, “It was a divine turtle.” Lord Yuan asked, “Is there a fisherman named Yu Qie?” His attendants replied, “There is.” Lord Yuan said, “Have Yu Qie come see me tomorrow morning.”

The next day, Yu Qie came to pay his respects. Lord Yuan asked him what he had caught. Yu Qie replied, “My net caught a white turtle.” Lord Yuan said, “Present your turtle.” Once the white turtle had been brought in, Lord Yuan twice considered killing it and twice considered letting it live. Unable to decide, he had it divined. The divination indicated that he should kill the turtle and use it to divine good and ill fortune. So he split open the turtle’s shell and drilled it seventy-two times; every time, he made the divination marks without fail.

Confucius said, “The divine turtle was able to appear in a dream to Lord Yuan of Song…” (The original text ends here.)

Although a tortoise can use seventy-two methods of divination to determine good and ill fortune, it still cannot escape the net of Yuqie, the legendary tortoise catcher. Nor can the tortoise shell avoid being split open and having its belly removed. This shows that wisdom has its limitations, and even supernatural powers have their blind spots. No matter how great one’s wisdom, it is hard to account for everything when faced with the plans of many people. Fish fear no nets, but they do fear pelicans, the water birds skilled at catching fish. Set aside narrow cleverness, and broad, clear-sighted wisdom will emerge. Set aside the deliberate intention to do good, and goodness will arise from one’s nature. An infant can speak without a teacher because it lives among people who speak.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “This is precisely why supernatural powers are not worth relying on. Only by quietly accepting one’s own capacities and not pursuing or striving for things outside oneself can one preserve oneself. Rather than relying on one person’s wisdom, draw on the plans of many. This is like a net without a cunning mind, and so it can catch fish. Narrow wisdom comes from selfishness; broad wisdom accords with all things. Let go of the deliberate pursuit of goodness, and there will be nothing to admire. Without admiration, there is no self-conceit, and goodness appears naturally. People can act naturally without deliberately studying or imitating others.”

Lü Huiqing’s commentary says: “Though the tortoise is wise, it cannot escape misfortune; though it has supernatural powers, it cannot avoid the net. This shows that wisdom has its limits and supernatural abilities fall short. For this reason, those who cultivate the Dao should cast aside the mindset of relying on their own cleverness. Even the greatest wisdom cannot withstand the schemes of many people when one is outnumbered. Fish fear no nets, but they fear pelicans, because pelicans are cunning while nets have no calculating mind. So set aside narrow cleverness, and broad wisdom will become clear; set aside the deliberate pursuit of goodness, and goodness will appear naturally. In governing a state, why rely on one person’s cleverness? An infant can speak without a teacher because it lives among people everywhere and learns by being immersed in their example. If one is always trying to control the people through wisdom, how could one let them be natural?”

The commentary by Yidu says: “The tortoise can divine people’s good and ill fortune, yet it is still cut open; even after its shell is split, its spiritual potency may not disappear. Yet it cannot escape Yuqie’s net, nor avoid the misfortune brought by Lord Yuan of Song, the legendary ruler of Song. This shows that wisdom has its difficulties and supernatural powers have their limits. The sage gathers the strengths of many people and draws on the wisdom of all under Heaven; only then can one be called truly wise. By harboring no calculating mind toward things, one can truly respond to them. Set aside narrow cleverness, and wisdom can extend throughout all things; set aside narrow notions of goodness, and goodness will emerge from one’s nature. An infant can speak without a teacher because it is unconsciously shaped by its surroundings, not because it deliberately seeks knowledge.”

Bixu’s commentary gives these examples: “A tortoise can interpret omens from its shell to determine good and ill fortune, and a toad can ward off weapons, yet it cannot escape being killed in midsummer. A chicken can announce the dawn, yet it cannot escape being cooked. These examples all show that possessing a supernatural ability does not free a person or thing from disaster.”

One may be highly perceptive in one respect and remain dull in another. This means that human understanding is limited, and the spirit, too, has its bounds.

People generally fear having too much knowledge. Fish fear those who are cunning. To avoid this predicament, one should let go of petty cleverness, draw on the understanding of others, and cultivate the ability to discern how things stand. Abandon the impulse to proclaim oneself virtuous, and preserve the goodness one already possesses; then one comes close to the Dao.

Infants are naturally simple and unspoiled. As they grow and spend time with people who can speak, they learn to speak too. Once they can speak, they begin to distinguish right from wrong, and advantages and disadvantages arise in turn.

The Yanzhai Commentary says, “‘A-men’ is a small, winding gate. If you call it ‘knowledge,’ it will eventually reach its limit. Can those who think themselves exceptionally discerning really surpass the plans of the many? The pelican, a water bird skilled at catching fish, uses cunning to catch them, but this is no better than fishing with a net. I have my cunning, and the fish have theirs. Let go of personal cleverness and follow what is natural, and great wisdom will become clear. Abandon the impulse to claim credit for good deeds and thereby praise yourself, and goodness will naturally return to you.”

Shi Tong, in his commentary on the “Master’s Greatness,” says that an infant needs no one to teach it to speak. This illustrates that everything has its source in what is natural.

Zailu Yuan is where the divine tortoise lived. The Qing River sent it to visit the Earl of the Yellow River, so its talent and intelligence led it to be dispatched from a place of purity into a polluted one, where it could hardly avoid calamity. It could still appear in a dream to the Yuan Lord, the King of Chu Yuan, showing that its spiritual power had not yet vanished. The tortoise belongs to Yin; its shell is white, yet it also corresponds to Yang. Its body is round and five feet long, matching the Five Phases. People killed tortoises for divination, and when the resulting signs were auspicious, they could see that its efficacy was not for its own benefit: though it gained nothing itself, it could reveal wonders to others. After seventy-two drillings and scorchings, no record of a mistaken divination remained. This shows that it was endowed with fine qualities and could respond to the timing of Heaven. Yet once it fell into a net, it could not escape; when its belly was cut open and its entrails taken out, it could not avert disaster. Its spiritual power and intelligence, then, had their limits and were not things one could rely on.

Had it not gone on a mission for the Qing River, but instead dragged its tail through the mud, preserving itself through ignorance and taking true spiritual power to mean displaying no supernatural abilities, that would have been the highest wisdom and spiritual skill. Why, then, would it need to worry about nets and traps?

This chapter resembles the account in the “Treatise on the Tortoise and the Divination Shell” in the Records of the Grand Historian. The Records calls the fisherman “Yu Qie,” the person referred to here. Thus even someone of the highest intelligence may worry that the plans of the many could surpass their own, and may not dare to rely entirely on the counsel of others. This is like the pelican catching fish: it does not avoid them as a net without cunning might. To escape calamity, one should let go of narrow, biased views and take up the plans of others, broadening one’s wisdom until it can encompass all things. One should also abandon the belief that one has performed good deeds…

People throughout the world attribute goodness to them, as though they were infants or just beginning to speak. As they spend time together, they change along with one another, without knowing why this happens naturally.