《南華真經口義》Vol. 29

The King Who Let Go

Yao offered the realm to Xu You, who refused. Yao then offered it to Zizhou Zhifu. Zizhou Zhifu said: “To make me Son of Heaven would be acceptable. But I have a hidden, lingering ailment that I am nursing—I have no leisure to govern the realm.” Though the realm is the weightiest thing, he would not let it harm his life; how much less would he do so for lesser external things. Only one who does not treat the realm as a burden can be entrusted with it. Shun in turn offered the realm to Zizhou Zhibo. Zizhou Zhibo said: “I have a hidden, lingering ailment that I am nursing—I have no leisure to govern the realm.” Thus the realm is a great vessel, yet they would not trade their lives for it—people of the Way therefore differ from ordinary folk.

“Hidden affliction” (youyou) is like what we today call a latent or concealed illness. “Not taking the realm as one’s concern” means that only someone who does not wish to be Son of Heaven can be given the realm—this is having the realm yet not occupying it, holding the realm yet not claiming it. Differing from the vulgar means that one’s choices of what to keep and what to let go are not the same as those of the world.

Shun offered the realm to Shan Juan. Shan Juan said: “I stand within heaven and earth: in winter I wear furs, in summer I wear hemp. In spring I plow, and my body knows enough toil; in autumn I harvest, and my body knows enough rest. I rise with the sun and rest at sunset, wandering freely within heaven and earth, my mind fully content. Why should I need the realm? Pity that the Master does not understand me.” He therefore refused, withdrew into the deep mountains, and no one knew where he had gone.

Shun again offered the realm to his friend the Farmer of Stone Gate. The Farmer of Stone Gate said: “How diligently you toil! Those who come after will be people who guard their strength—who strain their bodies and discipline themselves through hardship—they feel that Shun’s De (Virtue/Power) has not yet reached the level of natural non-action (wuwei).” Husband and wife then went away together: the husband carried loads on his back, the wife on her head, taking their child with them out to sea, never to return for the rest of their lives.

“Juanjuan” describes the posture of wearing oneself down through labor. “Guarding strength” (baoli) means toiling and exerting force. Saying “De has not yet arrived” means that Shun’s De was not yet the De that is spontaneous and fused with the Dao (the Way). Both couples fled the world. The wife bore burdens on her head, the husband on his back; together they took their child and escaped. These two passages add no separate closing judgment; their meaning is the same as the passages above.

Shun offered the realm to his friend the Farmer of Stone Gate. The Farmer of Stone Gate said: “How diligently you toil! Those who come after will be people who guard their strength—who strain their bodies and discipline themselves through hardship—they feel that Shun’s De (Virtue/Power) has not yet reached the level of natural non-action (wuwei).” Husband and wife then went away together: the husband carried loads on his back, the wife on her head, taking their child with them out to sea, never to return for the rest of their lives.

“Juanjuan” describes the posture of wearing oneself down through labor. “Guarding strength” (baoli) means toiling and exerting force. Saying “De has not yet arrived” means that Shun’s De was not yet the De that is spontaneous and fused with the Dao (the Way). Both couples fled the world. The wife bore burdens on her head, the husband on his back; together they took their child and escaped. These two passages add no separate closing judgment; their meaning is the same as the passages above.

Great Lord Danfu dwelt in Bin. The Di people attacked. He first sent gifts of fur and silk; the Di did not accept.

King Tai Danfu and the Di People

The Di people first tried to win him over with dogs and horses, then with pearls and jade—King Tai Danfu refused both. What the Di wanted was land.

Tai Danfu said: To live as a guest in another man’s house and kill his younger brother; to live beside another man’s father and kill his son—I cannot do that. Settle here in peace. What difference is there between being my subjects and being the Di’s subjects?

He also said: I have heard that one must not use what sustains one’s own life to harm those one is meant to sustain. So he left, leaning on his staff. The people followed him in a steady stream, and later they founded a state beneath Mount Qi.

King Tai Danfu may be said to have understood how to honor life: one who honors life does not harm the body for the sake of enjoyment when rich and noble, nor lets the body be dragged down by profit when poor and lowly. People today who hold high rank and great titles fear losing position; at the slightest gain they lightly stake their lives—is that not foolish?

(Note: In the oral exegesis, “what is used for sustaining” means what one relies on to support oneself—here, land; “those sustained” means the people one is to protect. Zunsheng (honoring life) means holding the self more precious than external things. This passage satirizes those of the time who clung to office and could not bear to lose rank.)

Prince Sou

Yue had seen regicides for three generations in a row. Prince Sou worried over this and hid in Danyue (Cinnabar Cave). With no ruler in Yue, searchers could not find him until they traced him to the cave; Prince Sou still would not come out. The men of Yue smoked the cave with mugwort to drive him out and brought a jade carriage to receive him. Prince Sou took the carriage rope to climb aboard, then looked up and cried: “My lord, my lord—can you not leave me alone?”

It was not that he despised being king, but that he despised the calamities kingship brings. A man like Prince Sou may be said not to let affairs of state injure his life—and that is precisely the sort of person the people of Yue hoped would come forward as ruler.

“My lord, my lord” means: treat me as your lord. Only someone who does not inwardly crave the throne can truly be entrusted with the state. Hence the oral exegesis: this was exactly the kind of ruler the people of Yue wanted to find.

Zihua Zi and Marquis Zhao Xi of Wei

Han and Wei fought over seized territory. Zihua Zi visited Wei’s Marquis Zhao Xi; the marquis looked troubled. Zihua Zi said: Suppose a covenant were set up before all under heaven, reading: Whoever snatches with the left hand loses the right; whoever snatches with the right loses the left—but whoever snatches gets the realm. Would you snatch?

Marquis Zhao Xi said: I would not.

Zihua Zi said: So it is. From this we see that the two arms matter more than all under heaven, and the body matters more still than the two arms. The strip of land Han and Wei dispute is nothing compared to all under heaven; to fret over that land is, in weight and lightness, the same mistake as being moved by that absurd covenant to trade arms for the realm—forgetting that the body is what must be guarded above all.

(Continuing from the earlier account of Duke Xi and his son Huazi on “exchanging an arm”)

Huazi said: Compared with all under heaven, the state of Han is already far lighter; the quarrel at hand is lighter still than Han. Yet you worry yourself sick—damaging body and shortening life—simply because you cannot obtain it.

Duke Xi replied: Excellent! Many have taught me, but I have never heard words like these. Master Huazi truly understands what is heavy and what is light.

Commentary: “Seize” (jue) means to grab by force; “inscription” (ming) is like a contract or proof of title; “discard” (fei) means to cut off and throw away. Even if seizing that contract could win one the whole realm, someone who cherishes his own person would not seize it—how much more when Han is lighter than the realm. To grieve because one cannot obtain something, even to the point of harming body and life, is to destroy oneself; that is heavier than losing an arm. Hence “knowing heavy and light”—the analogy is very useful for people in the world. The style of this passage resembles the inner chapters of the Zhuangzi.

The ruler of Lu heard that Yan He was a person who had attained the Dao. He first sent someone with gifts to call on him. Yan He lived in a humble lane, wore coarse cloth, and fed his own ox.

When the envoy from Lu arrived, Yan He answered the door himself. The envoy asked: Is this the home of Yan He? Yan He replied: This is He’s home. The envoy presented the gifts. Yan He said: I fear a mistake would implicate the envoy in punishment; better verify first. The envoy went back to check, then came again to find the man—and only then could Yan He avoid acknowledging who he was. Someone like Yan He truly detests wealth and rank.

Thus it is said: the essential marrow of the Dao is for cultivating the person; what remains as a slight surplus is enough to govern a state; what is left again as dregs and chaff—the coarser leavings of the Way—is what suffices to order all under heaven. Seen this way, the achievements of emperors and kings are, in the sage’s eyes, leftover business—not what preserves the body and nourishes life.

Nowadays most gentlemen of the world endanger body and throw away life to die for things—is that not pitiful? In every move, the sage first makes clear where he is going and for what purpose.

Suppose someone used the Suihou pearl—a pearl of legendary fame—to shoot at a sparrow a thousand ren up: people would surely laugh at him. Why? What he expends is too weighty; what he seeks is too light. Life—is it not far heavier than the Suihou pearl?

I. On Zhuangzi’s “leftover threads and clods of earth” and related remarks

When sages discuss things, Zhuangzi puts it this way, and people often think he is splitting “refinement” and “coarseness” into two separate topics—but that is not what he means. His point is simply that those who truly awaken to the Way do not let external things burden their inner mind: Yao did not cling to the throne or care about the imperial carriage (huangwu), Shun and Yu held the realm lightly, and only in that spirit can “governing through Wuwei (non-action)” be carried to its limit. It is only that Zhuangzi’s wording swings too far up and down, which easily misleads readers.

The four characters “xuyu tuba” (leftover threads and clods of earth) grow out of surplus business and scraps—as if dust and chaff could still be used to shape the image of Yao and Shun. The idea is that a state like theirs need not hang on every detail; even trivial remainders can show their virtue. Most of Zhuangzi’s overheated phrasing belongs in this category.

Wang Anshi (Lord Jing) really read Zhuangzi as if he were teaching “two halves,” and even tried to govern that way, often citing “xuyu tuba” and the like—hence Zhu Xi (Master Zhu) argued against him so strongly. Zhuangzi sometimes overstates when he speaks, and perhaps bears some responsibility for how later generations talk—but at heart he did not mean to teach people to slight the sages. To risk one’s life and abandon one’s being merely to “harmonize” with others—that is truly letting outer things weigh down the mind.

The lines “what is used to go” and “what is used to act” are really one layer of meaning: use a bright pearl to shoot at sparrows, and no one would agree; use external things to drag down the body, and people often do not know to refuse—the analogy is very clear and apt. The style of this passage is very much like the inner chapters of the Zhuangzi.

II. Liezi refuses the grain (same as in the Liezi)

Master Lie (Lie Yukou) was very poor and showed hunger on his face. Someone said to Ziyang, chief minister of Zheng: Lie Yukou is a man of the Way; he lives in the ruler’s state yet is so poor—the lord surely does not truly love worthies? Ziyang immediately ordered an official to send him grain. When Liezi saw the messenger, he bowed and declined. After the messenger left, Liezi went inside; his wife pressed her hand to her heart and said: I have heard that the wife and children of a man of the Way can live at ease and in joy, yet now our faces show hunger; the lord heard your name and sent grain, and you, sir, do not accept—is this not simply our fate? Liezi smiled and told her: The lord does not truly know me himself; he sent grain because he heard others speak. When the time comes to punish me, he will also listen to others. That is why I did not accept.

Later the people of Zheng indeed rose in disorder and killed Ziyang.

III. Commentary on this passage in the oral interpretation

Chief minister Ziyang of Zheng sent grain because others praised Liezi—showing he did not truly understand him. If he is not a real friend who knows you, then those who praise you today may slander you tomorrow—the point is aptly made. This episode matches what is recorded in the Liezi.

Brief notes on proper names:

• Huangwu: the carriage of the emperor, symbolizing rank and power.
• Xuyu tuba: leftover thread from weaving, clods and chaff—metaphor for trifles that do not touch the main issue.
• Ziyang: a ruler of Zheng in the Warring States period.
• Lie Yukou: i.e. Liezi, a Daoist figure.

Vernacular Commentary on the True Classic of the Southern Florescence (Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi)

1. Butcher Sheep’s Refusal of Reward

When King Zhao of Chu lost his state, Butcher Sheep fled and followed the king into exile. After Zhao recovered Chu, he wished to reward everyone who had accompanied him, including Butcher Sheep.

Butcher Sheep declined: “When Your Majesty lost the state, I lost my trade as a butcher; when Your Majesty returned, I went back to butchering. What was mine to live by has come back—what is there to reward?” The king still wanted to reward him. Butcher Sheep said again: “Your Majesty’s loss of the state was not my crime, so I dare not accept punishment as a guilty man; Your Majesty’s recovery was not my merit, so I dare not accept reward.”

The king said he wished to see him. Butcher Sheep said: According to Chu law, one must first have great merit and receive heavy reward before one may be received in audience. My wisdom was not enough to save the state, nor my courage enough to die fighting the enemy; when Wu troops entered Ying, I fled from hardship—I did not deliberately follow Your Majesty. If Your Majesty breaks law and promise to see me, I do not wish such a name among all under heaven.

The king told Sima Ziqi: “Butcher Sheep is low in station, but what he says is very high.” He asked Ziqi to invite him with the rank of “Three Banners” (the three highest offices—each grand chariot had its banner, hence the name). Butcher Sheep still said: I know that is nobler than a butcher’s stall and ten thousand zhong of salary richer than butchering—but how can I covet rank and salary and let Your Majesty bear the name of disorderly reward? He would not accept and only wished to return to his stall; in the end he took no reward.

Gist of the commentary: The king returned to the state and Butcher Sheep to his stall—each kept his place; this passage is very fine.

2. Yuan Xian and Zigong

Yuan Xian lived in Lu in a house with only earthen walls on four sides, a roof of raw grass, a broken wicker gate, mulberry branches for door pivots, a cracked jar for a window; two rooms were stuffed with coarse cloth, rain leaked above and damp rose below. He sat upright playing the zither.

Zigong came in a grand carriage with large horses, wearing an inner garment of middle color and a white outer robe; the splendid carriage was too wide for the alley. He came to see Yuan Xian. Yuan Xian wore a birch-bark cap, shoes without heels, and opened the door leaning on a li staff. Zigong said, “Alas—is the master ill?” Yuan Xian answered: “I have heard that having no money is called pin (poverty), and learning without putting it into practice is called bing (illness). I am in poverty, not illness.” Zigong was uneasy and looked ashamed. Yuan Xian smiled: To act to please the world, to band together as friends, to learn only for display, to teach only to elevate oneself, the hypocrisy within benevolence and righteousness… (The text continues with passages on Liuxia Hui and others; this Zigong section stresses the distinction between poverty and illness.)

3. Confucius in Chen: Singing to Ease Himself

Confucius was in Chen; the divination yielded “dark upon dark” (an obscure omen, an unclear situation), and Chen (or the Cai region) lay before him. Confucius had his disciples sing to comfort and relieve themselves.

Yan Hui sang well; Zeng Xi (or another disciple) had fine words. Confucius said, “Why not let Yan Yuan sing?” Yan Hui said, “I dare not before the master.” Confucius still had Yan Yuan sing. Yan Yuan said, “How dare I not sing.” The gist of his song: Gentle yet unheard, pushed yet not weary; like a bright mirror or bamboo slips—errors in cutting are not noticed; wrongful killing does not lessen goodness; full yet not partial, bamboo can be joined again in the world; partial yet not knowing partiality, straight yet not linked in succession… (The lyrics use metaphor for conduct and self-cultivation; the commentary stresses Confucius using song to dispel distress when besieged at Chen and Cai.)

This passage uses several stories of poverty joyfully endured to argue that true cultivation lies in the mind rather than in external things.

Yuan Xian (Yuan Xian) was a disciple of Confucius, known for his austere poverty. He had no wish to pursue the splendor of carriages and fine ornaments. His dwelling was extremely simple: its roof was covered only with thatch (ci, meaning to roof a house with grass). He and his wife each had a small room. Lacking windows, they used the mouth of a broken jar as a window (wengyou). A hole cut in the wall for light was called a you, and it was stopped with old clothing to keep out wind and rain. He sat upright playing the qin and se zithers, wearing dark blue and red garments under a plain white outer robe. When Zigong, a disciple of Confucius from a wealthy family, came to visit in a luxurious carriage so large that it could not pass through the narrow lane, Yuan Xian came out to open the door wearing a coarse cap and dragging worn-out shoes.

The text then criticizes several kinds of behavior: those who flatter the worldly, those who form factions and cultivate friendships for private advantage, those who study in order to be seen, and those who borrow the names of benevolence and righteousness to conceal their wickedness. The scripture calls these the "evil of benevolence and righteousness," that is, wrongdoing that wears the cloak of virtue.

Zengzi, a disciple known for his filial conduct, lived in the state of Wei. He wore a gown padded with cotton wadding but lined with no outer fabric, so the wadding showed through. His face was swollen, his hands and feet were calloused, and he went three days without lighting a fire to cook, and ten years without making a new garment. When he straightened his cap, its strings snapped; when he drew his lapels together, his elbows showed; when he put on his shoes, their heels split. Yet he dragged his shoes along while chanting the "Odes of Shang," his voice filling heaven and earth, ringing like metal and stone. A person like this cannot be made a minister by the Son of Heaven, nor can the feudal lords befriend him.

Therefore the scripture says: one who attends to the cultivation of the mind forgets the hardships of the body; one who attends to nourishing the body forgets the gains and losses of profit; and one who pursues the Dao (Dao) forgets the attachment to the self.

Confucius said to Yan Hui: "Hui, your family is poor and your dwelling is humble. Why not come out and take office?" Yan Hui replied: "I have no wish to hold office. Outside the city I have fifty mu of land, enough to supply thin gruel; within the city I have ten mu, enough to grow hemp and mulberry. Playing the qin is enough to amuse me, and the Way of my master, which I study, is enough to bring me joy." Yan Hui would not enter public service. Confucius's expression grew solemn, and he exclaimed in praise: "Excellent, Hui's aspiration! Hearing these words, I know the state of your mind."

Those who are sufficient in themselves do not let the profit of external things weigh them down. Those who truly hold something within are not afraid when they lose it.

Those who cultivate De (Virtue) inwardly do not feel ashamed even without office or rank. I (Confucius) have recited these teachings for a long time; only now do I see them embodied in Yan Hui—that is my real gain.

Outside the outer wall are fields; inside are gardens—Yan Hui may not literally have had suburban fields and gardens, and Zhuangzi’s words are not all to be taken as fact. Yet the Son of Heaven’s way that he studied is enough to brighten the eyes and settle the heart in peace. Joy here means that vast inner realm; the Cheng brothers often urged people to find where “Yan Hui’s joy” lies—this passage should not be skimmed.

Those who know sufficiency do not let profit burden them: being full in oneself, one need not reach outward. Shen (here: firm assurance) means genuine conviction; when one truly possesses inward attainment, gain and loss in the world no longer drive joy and fear. Without rank yet not ashamed: one does not blush because others fail to recognize one. I have chanted this long; today I see it: before one only heard the words; now one sees the person. Kong’s gain: Confucius says he has truly gained such a friend.

Prince Mou of Zhongshan and Zhanzi

Prince Mou of Zhongshan said to Zhanzi: My body is on the rivers and seas, yet my heart still hangs on the palace gates of Wei—what should I do?

Zhanzi said: Zhongsheng (valuing life)—when you prize life itself, you hold profit lightly.

The prince said: I understand the principle, but I still cannot win over my heart.

Zhanzi said: If you cannot overcome yourself, go along with it; the Shen (spirit/mind) suffers little harm. If you cannot overcome yourself yet force yourself not to follow, that is zhongshang (severe inner injury). One severely injured in this way will hardly live long. Prince Mou of Wei was heir to a state of ten thousand chariots; for him to withdraw was as hard as burrowing into the earth—already no small thing for a man in plain clothes. Though he had not fully reached the Way, one may say his heart was turned toward it.

Heart dwelling at the Wei palace gate: the mind still cannot let go of wealth and status. When life is valued, profit grows light: knowing the worth of the original mind, outer things weigh less. Though he knew it, he could not yet win in himself: clear in doctrine, not yet victorious over desire. If you cannot win, then follow: when the heart is not yet master, first allow it its course. The point is that even between river and sea, thoughts of eminence still rise again and again—there is no need to crush them by force. Forced suppression injures the spirit all the more and can bring illness. Hence: if you cannot win, follow—going along does less harm to mind and spirit; thus the spirit is not greatly harmed. Inability to win is already a kind of wound, often at the very moment a thought stirs; to clamp down hard at that instant is especially apt to cause severe injury.

(Continuing the discussion of “overcoming oneself”)

To go against one’s true mind and yet force oneself to restrain the self is a twofold injury—hence it is called “severe harm.” This is not the path of preserving the body and nurturing life; one who lacks the quality of “longevity” cannot enter the company of those who “can long preserve themselves intact.” Wei Mou was born a noble son yet became a recluse, so for him “overcoming oneself” was all the harder. His learning had not yet reached the realm of the Dao, but he already had the intention of turning toward it; what this passage describes is like the sort of person in the Doctrine of the Mean who “does what is right only by forcing himself.”

Confucius trapped between Chen and Cai

Confucius was caught between Chen and Cai with no way out. For seven days he could not light a fire to cook; there was only wild-vegetable broth, and not even grain to stir in. His face was haggard, yet in his room he still strummed the zither and sang. Yan Hui was outside picking greens while Zilu and Zigong talked among themselves: “The Master was twice driven from Lu, left no trace in Wei, suffered the cutting down of the tree in Song, was reduced to straits in Shang and Zhou, and is now besieged between Chen and Cai. Those who wanted to kill the Master were not held guilty, and those who insulted him were not forbidden—yet the Master never stopped playing and singing. Can a gentleman be this shameless?” Yan Hui had no reply; he went in and told Confucius. Confucius set aside the zither, sighed deeply, and said: “You (Zilu) and Ci (Zigong) are men of shallow vision. Call them in; I will speak with them.”

When Zilu and Zigong entered, Zilu said: “In your present state, Master, can this be called ‘being at an impasse’?” Confucius said: “What words are these! When a gentleman’s way in the Dao is unobstructed, that is called tong (thoroughfare); when his way in the Dao is blocked, that is called qiong (impasse). Now I embrace the way of benevolence and righteousness yet meet the disasters of a chaotic age—how can this be called being at an impasse in the Dao? Therefore, looking within, one does not feel the Dao is exhausted; facing hardship, one does not cast off virtue. When cold deepens and frost and snow fall, then one knows how the pine and cypress flourish—this crisis in Chen and Cai is perhaps good fortune for Qiu (Confucius’s humble name), is it not?” Confucius’s expression relaxed; he took up the zither again to play and sing. Zilu too was stirred and, grasping his weapon, danced. Zigong said: “I do not know how high Heaven is or how low Earth is.” The ancients who obtained the Dao were joyful in straits and joyful in success alike; their joy did not lie in poverty or in flourishing. Virtue and the Dao were kept here; poverty and success were like the alternation of cold, heat, wind, and rain. Thus Xu You found joy for himself at Yingyang, and Duke Gong found peace in the Dao at Qiushou.

(Notes on the oral exegesis)

“Wild broth without grain stirred in” means there were greens but no rice. “Ji” (藉) means to trample or insult; “no prohibition” means such acts were not treated as crimes. “When cold deepens and frost falls, one knows the pine and cypress are lush” is the familiar saying “only after the year turns cold do we know how the pine and cypress are the last to wither.” After the hardship in Chen and Cai, the sage’s principle of “holding fast in straits” (gu qiong) became clearer and could serve as a model for later ages—hence “perhaps good fortune for Qiu.” “Xiaoran” is read like xiao and means free and at ease in manner.

(On Zilu and Zigong)

Zilu was delighted to hear this. The lines about Zigong mean that Zigong thereby grasped the point. Qiushou is the name of a mountain. Whether “Gong Bo” is the same as “Gonghe” is mostly allegory and should not be forced to fit historical facts. The gist is: Zigong was pleased and spoke up, praising people like Xu You—those who could hide away for life were still content with their path even when they had nowhere else to turn. Xu You and Gong Bo are figures spoken through Zigong’s mouth; the “Zhou” in Shang and Zhou refers to the area around the Zhou capital where people of the former Shang lands also lived (again allegorical).

Shun offers the realm to his friend Beiren Wuzi

Shun wanted to yield the realm to his friend Beiren Wuzi. Beiren Wuzi said: Shun’s conduct is strange—he ought to have stayed in the fields, yet he went to Yao’s court to be molded; and not only that, he wants to stain me with his “shameful conduct.” I am ashamed to face him, and threw himself into the Lengqing abyss to die.

“Not stopping at that”: what Shun did was already wrong; it would be bad enough for one man to lose virtue, but he also wanted to defile others with foul conduct. This story does not appear in other classics; it is allegory. “Shameful conduct” means corrupt virtue, behavior that stains others.

Tang’s campaign against Jie, and Bian Sui and Wu Guang

When Tang was about to attack Jie, he first consulted Bian Sui. Bian Sui said: It has nothing to do with me. Tang asked: Who can plan this? He answered: I do not know. Tang then consulted Wu Guang; Wu Guang also said it was none of his business and that he did not know who could plan it. Tang asked: What about Yi Yin? Wu Guang said: Forceful, able to endure filth—I know nothing more. Tang then plotted with Yi Yin to attack Jie.

After defeating Jie, Tang offered the realm to Bian Sui. Bian Sui declined: When you were about to attack Jie you asked me—you must have thought me a traitor; after victory you offer me the realm—you must think me greedy. I was born in chaotic times, and unprincipled men repeatedly tried to stain me with shameful conduct; I could not bear to hear it again and again, and threw himself into the Chou River to die.

Tang then tried to yield to Wu Guang, saying: The wise plan, the martial accomplish, the benevolent occupy the throne—that is the ancient way; why will you not take it? Wu Guang declined: Deposing a ruler is not righteous; killing the people is not benevolent; others suffer hardship while I take the profit is not honest. I have heard that one does not accept reward that is not righteous.

(Wu Guang likewise refused the offer; his end is paired with Bian Sui in the text, and tradition often tells of his refusal and withdrawal from the world.)

Brief glosses (terms already in the text)

• Lengqing abyss, Chou River: water names in allegory; they need not map to real places today.
• Yi Yin: worthy minister of Shang Tang, who helped Tang defeat Jie.
• Bian Sui, Wu Guang: archetypal recluses in Daoist narrative who reject receiving the realm and treat such “yielding” as defilement.

In an age without the Dao, even worthy men found no one willing to employ them—how much less would anyone honor me? I could not bear to linger long in such a world, so I shouldered a stone and drowned myself in the Lu River.

“Forced strength” carries the sense of strained, artificial effort; “enduring filth” means bearing the humiliations and defilements of ordinary society. “The martial” refers to those who succeed by force of arms; “the humane” points to men like Wu Guang who styled themselves as paragons of benevolence. Wu Guang and Bian Sui were recluses of antiquity, but whether the episodes in which they drowned themselves are historical fact can no longer be verified—they may be nothing more than parable.

In former times, when the Zhou was rising, there were two gentlemen in the state of Guzhu named Boyi and Shuqi. They said to each other: We hear that in the west there is a man who seems to possess the Dao; let us go and see him. When they reached Qiyang, King Wu, learning of their arrival, sent Shudan (the Duke of Zhou, addressed as younger brother) to meet them and swear an oath: double stipend and the highest official rank. They slaughtered an animal, smeared blood for the covenant, then buried the victim. The two looked at each other and laughed: Well—how strange! This is not what we call the Dao. When the ancient Lord of Grains ruled the world, he sacrificed at the proper seasons with utmost reverence yet did not pray for blessings; he was loyal and trustworthy toward others and managed affairs well yet did not seek fame; if he delighted in governing he governed, if he delighted in caring for the people he cared for them—he did not use another’s land to build himself up, did not look down on others because they were lowly, did not scheme for private gain by riding the times. Now the Zhou, seeing disorder in Yin, rush to seize power—plotting above and bribing below, blocking the way with troops and flaunting might, taking slaughtered beasts and blood oaths as faith, broadcasting virtue to please the crowd, seeking profit through killing. This is merely trading chaos for tyranny. We have heard that gentlemen of old did not shirk duty when the age was well ordered, and did not cling to life when the age was chaotic. Today the world is dark and Zhou virtue has waned; to go along with the Zhou would only stain us—it is better to withdraw and keep our conduct pure. The two then went north to Mount Shouyang, where they starved to death. Men like Boyi and Shuqi would not rely on wealth and rank even if they could take them at will; lofty in integrity and unconventional in action, they delighted only in their own purpose and would not serve the powers of the day—that was the moral fiber of these two gentlemen.

(Note) “Shudan” is the Duke of Zhou, here named as younger brother when speaking to his elder brother. “Double the stipend by two grades” means twice the usual salary; “one rank of appointment” means the highest official grade. Slaughtering a beast, smearing blood for the oath, then burying the victim is contrasted with the age of the Lord of Grains, when things were not done this way. “Seasonal sacrifice” means offering according to the calendar; “not praying for joy” means sacrificing without begging for blessings.

Not seeking fortune does not mean refusing blessings altogether; doing all that governance requires yet seeking nothing means carrying every duty of office to completion while inwardly craving no fame.

Joining in affairs and practicing governance means taking part in public life and administering affairs—there is action, yet “governing the realm” is not made into a private obsession or fixation. Those who rush headlong into power bustle about polishing their own “good government”; those who peddle rank below use titles and stipends to lure and bait the scholars of the world. Blocking the way with arms and taking the dangerous path, preserving might and establishing martial prowess, parading conduct—flaunting one’s character and reputation. Replacing tyranny with chaos means being as vicious as King Zhou of Shang. “Am I of one piece with Zhou?”—if one says one is no different from the Zhou people; “If I were like Zhou in this world, it would be smearing filth upon my person”—to act as Zhou acts in this age is to splash mud on oneself, like wearing court robes and an official cap while sitting in coal slurry. Not relying means not depending on anything, not treating anything as a prop; not taking it as capital for one’s standing—not using it as the basis for establishing oneself. Hou Shan (Chen Shidao) wrote “in one’s parents’ years, ten thousand things depend on salary”—he uses this same word lai (to rely). Perverse and overbearing conduct; deliberate artifice called overbearingness and nothing more—that is perverse conduct. Here the point is that Bo Yi and Shu Qi were not trying to strike a pose of lofty integrity, perverse and overbearing; had there been any principle of right they could accept amid wealth and honor, they would have accepted it and would not have acted with such excess. Only because in principle there was truly nothing they could accept did they come to this. When the world is dark, Shang is in disorder; “Zhou’s virtue has declined” refers to Zhou just rising and yet behaving in this way. They detest using cleverness to seize the realm, hence they say virtue has declined.

This chapter does not entirely read like Zhuangzi’s own hand, yet passages such as “a pearl of Sui shot at a sparrow,” “both arms heavier than the world,” and “speaking against butchering the sheep” remain fine—still not equal to his best chapters; as for “Robber Zhi,” “Explaining the Sword,” and “The Fisherman,” they fall another notch lower.