《南華真經口義》Vol. 30
About this page. The original text of 《南華真經口義》 Vol. 30 (Dongshen 洞神部, 32 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 16 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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Source textInterpretation
Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi (Oral Exegesis of the True Scripture of Southern Florescence), Scroll 30 — Miscellaneous Chapters: “Robber Zhi” — Vernacular Interpretation
This passage comes from Lin Xiyi (style name Yanzhai)’s lecture-style exegesis of the Zhuangzi, the Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi, and summarizes the gist of the “Robber Zhi” section in the Miscellaneous Chapters.
Confucius and Liuxia Ji (a worthy man of Lu) were friends. Liuxia Ji had a younger brother named Robber Zhi.
Robber Zhi led nine thousand followers across the realm, attacking feudal lords, breaking through walls and prying open gates, seizing cattle and horses and abducting women. Greedy without limit, he disregarded parents and siblings and did not sacrifice to ancestors. Wherever he passed, large states could only hold their cities and small states hid behind fortifications; the common people suffered bitterly. Confucius said to Liuxia Ji: A father ought to be able to teach his son, and an elder brother ought to be able to teach his younger brother. If a father cannot teach his son or an elder brother cannot teach his brother, the names “father,” “son,” “elder,” and “younger” lose much of their dignity. You, sir, are a talented man of the age, yet your brother wreaks havoc throughout the world and you cannot instruct him—I, Kong Qiu, feel ashamed on your behalf. Please let me go and persuade him.
Liuxia Ji said: You say a father must be able to discipline his son and an elder brother must teach his younger brother—but if the son will not heed the father’s teaching and the younger brother will not accept the elder’s instruction, what can even someone with your eloquence do? Moreover, this man Robber Zhi has a mind that gushes like a spring and a temper like a gale; his strength is enough to face enemies, and his tongue enough to gloss over wrongdoing. When things go his way he is pleased; when they do not he flies into a rage and readily insults others with words. Sir, you must not go.
Confucius would not listen. Yan Hui drove the carriage and Zigong sat on the right as they went to see Robber Zhi. Robber Zhi was having his men rest on the southern slope of Mount Tai, mincing human livers to eat. Confucius dismounted and went forward, and said to the man who announced visitors: Kong Qiu of Lu, having heard of the general’s great righteousness, respectfully bows twice to pay his respects.
The messenger went in to report. Robber Zhi flew into a rage—eyes blazing, hair bristling until it lifted his cap—and said: Isn’t this the crafty, hypocritical Kong Qiu of Lu? Tell him for me: You fabricate words and falsely invoke the way of Wen and Wu; you wear a crown of woven branches and a belt of a dead ox’s ribs; you wag your tongue and talk nonsense—eating without plowing, wearing cloth without weaving; you flap your lips and drum your tongue, deciding right and wrong on your own, bewildering the rulers of the world so that scholars cannot return to their true nature, recklessly flaunting filial piety and brotherly duty to scrape together rank, titles, and wealth. Your crime is enormous! Get out at once—or I will dig out your heart and liver…
(The scripture continues beyond this point; Scroll 30 of the Kouyi ends the present segment here.)
Confucius had Zigān (a personal name) add to the provisions for the books and meal. The messenger announced again: “Kong Qiu has the honor to be here.”
Robber Zhi said: “Let him in.”
Confucius hurried forward, stepped down from his seat, walked backward, and bowed once more.
Robber Zhi flew into a rage. He sat with legs spread, hand on his sword, eyes glaring, and roared like a tiger: “Kong Qiu, come forward! If what you say suits my mind, you live; if it goes against my mind, you die!”
Confucius said: “I have heard that in the world there are three kinds of virtue. To be born tall and handsome, beyond compare, so that young and old, noble and base, all delight to see you—that is the highest virtue. To have wisdom that can hold together Heaven and Earth and distinguish all things—that is the middle virtue. To be bold and resolute, to gather crowds and lead troops—that is the lowest virtue. Whoever has even one of these virtues is fit to face south and rule as king. Now you, General, combine all three: you stand eight feet two inches tall, your face shines, your lips are like rouge, your teeth like even shells, your voice like a great bell—and yet you are called Robber Zhi. I am privately ashamed for you, General, and reluctant to speak of it. If you are willing to hear me, I can send envoys south to Wu and Yue, north to Qi and Lu, east to Song and Wei, west to Jin and Chu, to build for you a great city hundreds of li on a side, a great district of hundreds of thousands of households, to honor you as a feudal lord, and to start anew with the people of the world—cease warfare, let soldiers rest, nurture brothers, and sacrifice together to the ancestors. That is the conduct of a sage and worthy, and the wish of everyone under Heaven.”
Robber Zhi raged: “Kong Qiu, come forward! Those who can be swayed by profit, those who can be admonished with words—they are only foolish, shallow commoners. To be tall and handsome so that people delight to see you—that is the beauty my parents passed down. Would I not know it myself even if Kong Qiu did not praise me? Moreover I have heard that those who love to praise you to your face also love to slander you behind your back. Now Kong Qiu uses a great city and the people to admonish me—he wants to lure me with profit and keep me like a domestic animal. How could that last? The greatest city is no more than all under Heaven. Yao and Shun possessed the world, yet their descendants had not a place to stick an awl; Tang and Wu became Sons of Heaven, yet their line died out—is that not because the stake was too great? Moreover I have heard that in ancient times beasts were many and people few, so people built nests in trees to escape beasts, gathered acorns by day and roosted in trees by night—hence they were called the Nest-builders.”
Plain-Language Reading of the Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi (Oral Meaning of the True Scripture of Southern Florescence)
In the age of Youxiao (the legendary sage who taught people to dwell in nests), the people of old did not yet know how to wear clothes. In summer they piled up firewood; in winter they warmed themselves by burning it—so they were called “the people who knew how to keep themselves alive.”
In the age of Shennong (the legendary emperor who taught agriculture), people lay down at ease and rose without constraint. They knew only a mother, not a father; they lived among elk, farmed for food, and wove for clothing, with no thought of harming one another. That was the time when De (Virtue/Power) stood at its fullest height.
Yet the Yellow Emperor could not preserve that De. He fought Chiyou on the plain of Zhuolu, and blood flowed for a hundred li. When Yao and Shun took the throne, they set up ranks of ministers. Tang drove out his lord; King Wu killed King Zhou. From then on, the strong oppressed the weak and the many bullied the few. From Tang and Wu onward, those who “ruled” were really those who threw the world into disorder.
Now you cultivate the way of wen and wu (culture and martial prowess), seize upon the world’s disputes over right and wrong, and use them to instruct later generations: stitched garments and thin belts, ornate words and hypocritical deeds—you bewitch the rulers of the realm yet seek wealth and rank for yourself. There is no “thief” greater than you. Why does the world not call you “Thief Qiu,” yet call me Robber Zhi?
You won Zilu over with honeyed speech and made him follow you: take off his tall cap, unfasten his long sword, and come to you for instruction. The whole world says Kong Qiu can restrain violence and forbid wrongdoing—yet Zilu tried to kill the lord of Wei, failed, and was minced into paste, dying at the east gate of Wei. That is how poorly your teaching worked out.
You style yourself a man of talent, a sage? Twice you were driven from Lu; in Wei your name was wiped clean; in Qi you had nowhere to turn; between Chen and Cai you were besieged—the world could not find room for a single body of yours. You taught Zilu, and Zilu was minced into paste. Such disaster: above, you could not keep yourself safe; below, you could not bring others to completion. In what sense is your Dao (the Way) worthy of respect?
Of all those the world honors, none ranks higher than the Yellow Emperor—yet even he could not preserve De, and fought at Zhuolu until blood flowed for a hundred li. Yao was not humane; Shun was not filial; Yu wore his body to the bone; Tang drove out his lord; Wu attacked Zhou; Wen was imprisoned in Youli. These six are the ones the world esteems. Look closely, and each used profit to confuse his true nature and forcibly went against his inborn disposition—their conduct is deeply shameful.
Among the so-called worthy men of the world: Boyi and Shuqi (sons of the lord of Guzhu at the end of the Shang), declined the throne of Guzhu and starved to death on Mount Shouyang, their bones left unburied. Bao Jiao polished his conduct and condemned the age, then died embracing a tree. Shentu Di offered counsel that was not heeded; he clasped a stone and threw himself into a river, where fish and turtles fed on him.
On the Concept of “Dao”
“Dao” is the central idea in Daoist thought. It refers to the fundamental pattern and the law by which all things in the universe move. It has no fixed form or image, yet it is present everywhere; it is the source of heaven, earth, and all beings.
In the Huainan Zhenjing (also known as Zhuangzi), “Dao” has these features:
1. Natural non-action (wuwei) — Dao follows nature; it does not force or contrive.
2. Beyond opposition — Dao transcends human distinctions such as right and wrong, good and evil, beautiful and ugly.
3. Carefree ease — One who attains Dao can rise above worldly bonds and reach spiritual freedom.
This passage explores precisely the wisdom of how to know “Dao” and how to live in accord with it.
Plain-Language Reading of Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi (Oral Exegesis of the True Classic of Southern Florescence)
Section One
“Entering the fortress means shutting the door and holding fast within.”
“Entering the fortress” means closing the door and guarding oneself inside.
“The mind like a gushing spring means its qi is in full vigor.”
“The mind like a gushing spring” means the heart-mind’s qi is flourishing.
“Intent like a drifting wind means vain, arrogant, and lightly fluttering intent.”
“Intent like a drifting wind” means intent that is vain, arrogant, and lightly adrift.
“Falsely claiming the ways of Wen and Wu means falsely naming oneself after the ways of King Wen and King Wu.”
“Falsely claiming Wen and Wu” means falsely taking the ways of King Wen and King Wu as one’s own title.
“Branches unpeeled: bark of tree branches made into caps; ox flanks: ox hide.”
“Branches unpeeled” refers to using bark from tree branches to make caps; “ox flanks” refers to ox hide.
“Gaining favor with Ji means gaining closeness with Ji below.”
“Gaining favor with Ji” means coming to be intimate with Ji of the lower ranks.
“Gazing at the footsteps below Mo means that upon one meeting below Mo, one looks up to his footprints.”
“Gazing at the footsteps below Mo” means that at a single meeting below Mo, one gazes upon his tracks.
“This is the wording of a second petition for an audience.”
This is the language of a renewed request for an audience.
“Knowledge that encompasses heaven and earth means knowledge can embrace heaven and earth; heaven and earth cannot lie outside its knowing.”
“Knowledge encompassing heaven and earth” means that knowing can wrap around heaven and earth, and heaven and earth cannot escape beyond that knowing.
“Able to discriminate among things means talent can name and distinguish all things—said to be knowing nothing unknown.”
“Able to discriminate among things” means capacity to name and distinguish things, claiming to know everything.
“As for its end—means demanding its outcome.”
“As for its end” means insisting on how it will finish.
“Yu’s withered limbs means his hands and feet were calloused and worn.”
“Yu’s withered limbs” means Yu’s limbs were chapped and calloused from toil.
“Who discusses it—means discussing it in detail.”
“Who discusses it” means to discuss it thoroughly.
“Torn like a dog, spilled like a pig means killing oneself as one would slaughter dog or pig.”
“Torn like a dog, spilled like a pig” means destroying one’s own body as when killing dogs or pigs.
“Holding a gourd and begging means having demands upon others.”
“Holding a gourd and begging” means begging from people—having something to ask of them.
“Li means clinging; clinging to names.”
Li means adhesion; being stuck on reputation and labels.
“Thus it is said: parting from names, one does not reflect on the root—one does not know one’s true original nature.”
Hence “parting from names, one does not turn back to the root”—one fails to know one’s authentic innate nature.
“Ji-ji means the same as ji-ji (urgent, restless striving).”
Ji-ji is the same as ji-ji—hurried, pressing effort.
“Holding the reins and losing them thrice means the bridle repeatedly slips loose.”
“Holding the reins and losing them thrice” means the bridle keeps falling away.
“The carriage and horses show travel-wear means they seem to have been going somewhere and are just returning.”
“Carriage and horses show travel-wear” means they look as if they had been bound for somewhere and are only now coming back.
“Perhaps not—could it be you are going to see Zhi?”
“Perhaps not”—might you be on your way to see Zhi?
“Like what you said before—like what I said the other day.”
“Like what you said before” means like what I spoke of earlier.
Section Two
“Zi Zhang asked Man Goude: ‘Why not act in conduct? Without conduct there is no trust; without trust there is no appointment; without appointment there is no profit. So look to the name, reckon the profit—and righteousness is truly thus.’”
Zi Zhang asked Man Goude: Why not practice conduct? Without conduct there is no credibility; without credibility no office; without office no advantage. Thus observe the name, calculate the profit—and yi (righteousness) is genuinely so.
“If you cast off name and profit and turn back to the heart-mind, then can the scholar’s conduct go even one day without being practiced?”
If one abandons name and profit and returns inward, can the scholar’s way of acting fail to be practiced a single day?
“Man Goude said: ‘The shameless grow rich; the greatly trusted become prominent. The bulk of name and profit lies almost in shamelessness and trust. So look to the name, reckon the profit—and trust is truly thus.’”
Man Goude said: The shameless amass wealth; the highly trusted win fame. Name and profit chiefly rest on shamelessness and being believed. So observe the name, calculate the profit—and trust is genuinely so.
“If you cast off name and profit and turn back to the heart-mind, then does the scholar’s crow-like conduct embrace his Heaven-given nature?”
If one casts off name and profit and returns to the heart-mind, does the scholar’s conduct—like the crow’s—embrace his innate endowment?
“Zi Zhang said: ‘Formerly Jie and Zhou were honored as Sons of Heaven and owned all under heaven. Yet tell a low gatherer today, “Your conduct is like Jie and Zhou,” and he shows shame and defiance—that is what petty men despise.’”
Zi Zhang said: Once Jie and Zhou were exalted as Sons of Heaven and possessed the realm. Yet tell a humble retainer now, “You act like Jie and Zhou,” and he blushes and rebels—that is what small people scorn.
“Confucius and Mozi were destitute as commoners. Yet tell a prime minister today, ‘Your conduct is like Confucius and Mozi,’ and he changes expression and color, saying it is not enough—scholars are truly honored.”
Confucius and Mozi were poor as ordinary men. Yet tell a chancellor now, “You act like Confucius and Mozi,” and he alters face and manner, claiming he falls short—scholars are genuinely esteemed.
Therefore, being Son of Heaven does not necessarily mean being honored, and being poor as a commoner does not necessarily mean being base—the distinction between noble and low lies in whether one's conduct is good or bad.
Man Goude said: A petty thief is imprisoned, while a great robber becomes a feudal lord, and within the lord's gates righteous knights are kept in service. In the past Duke Huan of Qi killed his brother and married his sister-in-law, yet Guan Zhong became his minister; Tian Chengzi often killed his lord and usurped the state, yet Confucius still accepted his gifts. Judged by standards, these were base acts; carried out, they were shameful deeds—yet in heart and in word and deed they contradicted each other. Is this not perverse? So the ancient books say: Who is evil, who is good? Whoever succeeds is the head; whoever fails is the tail.
Zi Zhang said: If you do not fly away like a bird, kin will grow distant, noble and base will ignore duty, elder and younger will lose order—how then can the five norms and six positions be distinguished?
Man Goude said: Yao killed his eldest son, Shun exiled his mother's younger brother—was there still kinship among relatives? Tang attacked Jie, King Wu killed Zhou—was there still duty between noble and base? Wang Ji was the legitimate son, yet the Duke of Zhou killed his elder brother—was there still order between elder and younger? Confucians use hypocritical rhetoric; Mohists preach universal love—can the five norms and six positions still be kept apart? Moreover, you contend for fame and I contend for profit; the reality of fame and profit does not accord with reason and does not reflect the Dao. Day after day I argue with you in "no compact": the petty person dies for wealth, the gentleman dies for name—the ways of changing feeling and altering nature differ, yet in the end both abandon what they ought to keep and die for what they ought not. In truth it is the same. So it is said: Do not be a petty person—turn back and follow Heaven; do not be a gentleman—follow Heaven's pattern. Seeming crooked, seeming straight, each becomes Heaven's rule; face the four quarters, shift with the times; seeming yes, seeming no—hold the round pivot alone and complete it, let mind and intention wander with the Dao. Without turning yet acting, without achieving yet making right—you will lose what you are doing. Without rushing yet becoming rich, without dying yet completing—you will cast away your Heaven-given nature. Bi Gan's heart was cut out, Wu Yuan's eyes were gouged out—such is the disaster of loyalty. Zhi Gong bore witness against his father, Wei Sheng drowned holding a pillar—such is the calamity of trustworthiness. Bao Zi installed his lord, Shenzi would not manage himself—such is the harm of integrity. Confucius did not see his mother, Kuangzi did not see his father—such is the failure of righteousness. This is what the upper age transmitted and the lower age repeats. Those who take themselves for scholars—correct their words and fix their conduct—therefore meet disaster and separation from calamity. Why not speak for those who act? Why not cultivate virtue and character? Look at this reputation.
"Those who calculate profit yet insist that only cultivating 'righteousness' and holding to 'authenticity' is the true path": People who want fame and gain but insist that only practicing "righteousness" and guarding "authenticity" is the right way—if they truly gave up fame and profit, they would go against the craving in their hearts and could not enjoy themselves; so they have to treat "acting righteously" as a ladder. This is the flavor of learning for official salary (干禄之学)—studying and acting for the sake of office and emolument.
"Those who pile up words to seem trustworthy gain prominence": Heaping up talk to appear credible, in order to win glory and visibility—this is using the name of "trustworthiness" for one's own benefit. On Zi Zhang's side we hear "seek profit through righteousness"; Mantuo Gewei says: people who seek fame and profit today are mostly frauds. If you say that abandoning fame and profit goes against the heart and that you must obtain them, then you indulge the heart's desires—using Mantuo Gewei's self-deceiving scheme—and that is still somewhat natural, with less artifice; hence "constraining their Heaven-nature" (拘其天).
"Small thieves are caught; great thieves become feudal lords": This repeats the argument of the Opening Satchels chapter (胠篋篇)—the facts of word and deed fight in the chest: conduct does not match speech, speech does not match conduct. "Those who succeed are called leaders; those who fail are called usurpers": in season they are called righteous followers; out of season they are called rebels. The main point: the bearing of benevolence and righteousness is mostly deceit and pretense, not natural simplicity. Five Constants (五纪): the five常; Six Positions (六位): the three bonds (ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife). "You use the name of righteousness to approach me": you come to me under the banner of benevolence and righteousness, but I only want profit—I need not put on the mask of benevolence and righteousness again. Seeking the name and seeking profit are both not the real pattern of things; hence the substance of fame and profit does not accord with reason and is not overseen by the Dao. Without constraint (無約): not tied down, letting things be as they are—Mantuo Gewei again says "without constraint," again hiding meaning in the name, like "knowing" and Wuwei (non-action) in the earlier chapter.
"Abandoning what they ought to do": what should be done (preserving life and nature) they do not do; "pursuing what they ought not to do": what should not be done (for profit, for fame) they insist on doing. If one followed heavenly principle as it naturally is, there would be no labels of gentleman and petty man—hence without acting, no petty man; turning back to follow Heaven, without acting, no gentleman: from the angle of heavenly principle, one should not be gentleman or petty man either; only then can one follow (徇) your heavenly principle as it naturally is. "And you": you people. "Without bend, without straight—look at each other thus": see everything as utterly natural.
Vernacular Interpretation of Nanhua Zhenjing Kouyi (Zhuangzi Oral Exegesis)
(First section: on “yuanji,” “ducheng,” and related themes)
In principle, crooked and straight depend on each other, and the tianji (pole of Heaven, the natural norm) shows itself in that relation. East, south, west, and north each have their place; spring, summer, autumn, and winter each belong to a season; coming and going, waxing and waning, are all one qi in transformation. Hence it is said: face the four directions and keep in tune with the four seasons; hold to yuanji (a round, unobstructed mind that does not cling to one fixed stance), and there will be no quarrel over right and wrong. Hence it is said: what seems so may not be so—hold fast and return to yuanji; act sincerely according to your true intent, and alone accord with the Dao, and you can embody the Way at ease. Hence it is said: ducheng its de (complete your virtue on your own). If mind and Dao diverge and you waver, that is turning your back on the Way; if you brand yourself with labels to force success, you lose what is genuinely real. Hence it is said: do not leave your nature to act rashly; do not twist yourself into “righteousness” (yi) and lose truth. What you are about to lose is the “you” in what you do—the real self. If you rush after wealth and rank and die for fame and success, you forfeit Heaven’s spontaneity. Hence it is said: do not rush after wealth and rank; do not die for outward success, or you will cast away the Dao of Heaven.
Whenever the text says “do not,” it is warning: never do this—it carries a prohibitive force. “Zheng its words” means taking words of loyalty, trust, integrity, and righteousness as what is real; “bi its conduct” means surely practicing loyalty, trust, integrity, and righteousness. “Fu” is to be harmed or to suffer; “lili” is to meet disaster and injury. The point is that such a person is bound to meet calamity. Zizhang wanted to practice righteousness to gain wealth and rank, and borrowed the language of ganlu (seeking salary and office) under that name. Filled with grasping gain, he used grasping to stuff his desires full—that is not the natural Dao, so the text sets up question and answer meaning: to adorn yourself for profit and advancement is not as sound as acting straight from genuine feeling. This is a corrective to Mencius’s distinction between the nobility of Heaven and the nobility of man.
(Second section: Footless questions Zhihe)
Footless asked Zhihe about the Way: “People in the end never fail to chase fame and profit. Once someone is rich and honored, others attach to him; once they attach, they stand below him; to be below yet still respected—that is the way to long life, a settled body, and joy. Yet you alone have no such intent. Is your wisdom insufficient? Or do you have strength but cannot do it? Or do you honor the right path but cannot forget the crooked one?”
Zhihe said: “As for this man now—he treats everyone of his own age and hometown as vulgar commoners or freakish outliers beyond the world; arbitrary and without a true master, he uses that very attitude to survey right and wrong through past and present. He melts into the vulgar and leaves the world, yet casts off what is most weighty and most noble, and goes off to do what he thinks is right—the path he calls long life, bodily ease, and joy: is he not terribly far from it? Alas, how tragic!”
(Continuing from above) That ease and contentment, the fear when on guard and the joy when pleased—they cannot be detected as happening in the body or in the mind. One only knows “to act,” but does not know “why one should act” or “on what basis one acts”—so even if one is honored as Son of Heaven and owns a whole realm, one cannot escape calamity.
“Pushing the right path without forgetting” means: with your mouth you push the right way, trying to suppress the desire for wealth and rank, yet you cannot suppress it or forget it—is that because you are dull? Or because you also understand, only your strength is not enough? So you block with right principle, but the mind still runs toward wealth and rank.
What is spoken of here are people of wealth and rank. They share this one life and this one place with me—how could they be lofty figures who leave the dust of the world? They are not so high as to be beyond reach. The point is simply: they are the very people before our eyes; how could I fail to see through them?
In their hearts there is no master; they throw away entirely what nature and life were originally meant to be. They only know how to follow fashion, grab their own advantage, and be led by worldly custom—everything they do is the ordinary crowd’s way. As for “telling right from wrong”? It means everyone else is wrong and they alone are right, and everything is for gaining benefit for their own person.
Past and present, near and far—how this court acts, how that court acts—they read the wind to profit themselves. What is most weighty and most honored is the natural principle of Heaven (tianli), yet they cast it all aside, leaving only one mind set on what they call seeking wealth and rank. How is this the path of long life, securing the body, and nourishing the heart-mind?
Those who seek wealth and rank sometimes feel at ease in body and mind, sometimes not; sometimes sorrow, sometimes joy—they wander inside and cannot wake up, they do not see themselves, hence it is said they are not aware in the body, not aware in the heart-mind. “Doing as doing” is what people force by effort; “that by which one does” is Heaven’s principle. To know only human doing and not know Heaven’s principle—even as Son of Heaven one cannot avoid calamity that harms the body, how much less ordinary people?
Wuzu (Footless) said: Wealth and rank seem to people good in every way—to exhaust beauty and power, a perfected person may not have it all, and a worthy may not reach it. They borrow a knight’s courage and strength for majesty, borrow another’s schemes for cleverness, borrow another’s virtue for worthiness; they do not sit upon the realm, yet they are as stern as lord and father.
Again, sound, color, flavor, and the power to command stir the heart—without teaching, people love them—
(The oral meaning below continues with “the body does not,” etc.; the scripture text breaks off here.)
Plain-Language Interpretation
First passage: On “wealth” and one’s disposition
Only when circumstances in the world are settled can one feel at ease. What one likes, dislikes, avoids, or pursues does not need to be taught by a teacher; these are part of human nature. Even if everyone under Heaven thinks something is wrong, who could truly push it aside? “Knowing harmony” describes how the wise act: in every action, they take as their guide what the people all receive from Heaven’s Dao (the Way), and dare not violate its measure. What the people share by receiving it from Heaven is that things exist and have their proper norms. Here, “measure” means a rule or standard.
Thus, “when content, one does not contend”: when one feels inwardly that one has enough, one does not compete. “Knowing that action depends on Heaven, not on oneself, one does not seek”: since human effort cannot help, one does not force the issue. By contrast, those who feel they lack enough go seeking and contending. “One declines only when one has a surplus”: only when one has more than enough does one yield. Though one may bustle about everywhere, one does not regard oneself as greedy; one yields only when one has a surplus.
To relinquish the world without regarding oneself as morally pure: the realities of purity and greed are not imposed from outside. One must reflect on the norms and weigh the circumstances. One might be able to become the Son of Heaven, yet not use one’s exalted position to act arrogantly; one might possess all the wealth in the world, yet not use money to toy with people. Only after assessing the danger and fearing its backlash, and judging that it would harm one’s nature, would one decline and refuse it—not to win a reputation.
Yao, Shun, and Yu ruled as emperors, and Yong and others did not do so in order to extend benevolence throughout the world; they simply would not let a “fine reputation” damage their lives. Shan Juan and Xu You received the throne but refused it, not out of false modesty, but because they would not let worldly affairs harm them. They chose what benefited them and declined what harmed them, and the world called them worthy. This is one way to understand their actions; they were not seeking fame or fishing for praise.
Second passage: Oral commentary, focusing solely on “wealth”
Here the discussion is not about “nobility,” but only about “wealth.” Poverty and beauty, for example, can exhaust the range of what one likes; examining power and influence can exhaust the matters of rank and position. Even the Perfected and the worthy have limits to what they can do: this means that their power is something they can apply themselves. “Employing others,” “relying on others,” and “commanding others” all refer to the idea that “wealth enables one to employ people.” This is the “desire” in expressions such as “ten thousand things communicate with the spirits”: the desire for wealth; and “aversion” means aversion to poverty. Avoiding poverty and turning toward wealth require no instruction, so the text says “one does not wait for a teacher”; they arise naturally from human nature.
Even if everyone under Heaven considers this wrong, how could I refuse it? This is a question posed on behalf of the greedy. “Never having enough” refers to those who grasp at what they can get and remain unsatisfied. “Acting in accord with the people” means that the wise take as their guide what the people all receive from Heaven, and dare not violate its norms. What the people share is that things exist and have their proper norms; “measure” means “norm.”
“When content, one does not contend” means that one’s De (Virtue/Power) is sufficient within oneself, leaving nothing to contend for. “Knowing that action depends on Heaven, not on oneself, one does not seek”: since action depends on Heaven rather than oneself, human effort has no part in it; that is why the text says there is “nothing one can do.” Knowing that human effort has no part in it, one does not seek.
Vernacular Interpretation of the Kouyi on the Nanhua True Scripture
Section 1: On Seeking De and on Greed versus Integrity
When people keep the mindset that “I still fall short,” they will scour the four directions in rivalry; yet in that rivalry they are not counted greedy—this is seeking De inward. When De is full and the heart has surplus, things outside the body can all be declined; even to decline the realm is not called stinginess. The real shape of greed and integrity is neither for show nor for chasing an outward name, but turning back to measure oneself against Heaven’s pattern and the standard—hence “turning back to examine the measure.” Dealing with others through goods is like drumming and rousing the world; here “considering its turning back” means turning back to examine oneself. Bringing the people to peace amid change (yong) is “the age at peace.” Not harming life for a fine reputation means governing through wuwei and not injuring the body for empty fame; having the realm yet not holding it as private property also means one may openly bear the realm’s worthy name without shame. Walking the Way and establishing De comes from sincerity at the center, not from chasing reputation. This passage again speaks well of both Yao and Shun and of Xu You.
Section 2: Footless and Zhihe on Wealth and the Six Harms
Footless said: Clinging rigidly to reputation, tormenting the body and cutting off sweetness, restricting nurture to preserve life—you will long be weak and ill, alive yet trapped. Zhihe said: Levelness is blessing; surplus is harm. All things are so; profit in goods especially. People now called rich: ears take in bells, drums, pipes, and flutes; mouths crave fodder-fed meat and thick wine; the senses are stirred and the root occupation forgotten—this is called confusion. Drowning in full, floating qi (like qi swollen and adrift), as if climbing a slope with a heavy load on the back—this is called toil. Taking comfort from grasping wealth and draining oneself for power—still drowned when still, qi chaotic when moving—this is called sickness. For desire of wealth they crawl for profit like plugging a hole, not knowing to dodge, and cling to that floating qi without letting go—this is called disgrace. Wealth heaped yet unused, pressed to the chest and never released, the heart full of grief, ceaselessly seeking more—this is called sorrow. Within, they suspect thieves who extort; without, they fear bandits; they build towers and high rooms within yet dare not walk alone outside—this is called fear. These six are the greatest harms in the world, yet forgotten and never examined in oneself; when disaster arrives, they cannot buy one day of safety even by exhausting nature and spending all wealth. So when you look for the name it does not appear, when you seek the profit you do not obtain—twisting the will and breaking the body to contend: is that not delusion?
This oral commentary explains passages in the Zhuangzi on craving fame, clinging to wealth, and harming oneself, unpacking the wording line by line so readers can compare it with the original text.
“One must cling to one’s name”: Someone who is determined to preserve reputation—if they pursue fame alone and do not seek the benefits of wealth and status—will still torment themselves in vain. Though the body remains alive, it is as if stricken with a grave illness. This is what is meant by jue gan qu mei wei (rejecting sweet flavors and refusing delicacies) and yue yang jian yi zi feng (binding one’s sustenance to the sparsest frugal living). A father long ill, trapped on his couch yet unable to die, is what common speech calls “chronic sickness that never kills.” Plainness and moderation are blessing; surplus and excess are harm—and this holds for all things, especially for goods and money.
The author of the oral commentary says: the wording in this chapter is somewhat coarse compared with pieces such as “Yielding the Throne” and “The Old Fisherman,” yet it still contains fine lines that should not be overlooked.
“Stuffing the cheeks full”: Among apes, packing the cheek pouches with food is called qian. “Stirring his intent” means touching and pulling at his mind; “enslaving his mind” means making the heart servile and no longer free. “Forgetting his proper work” is forgetting what one’s station requires. “Pent-up qi” is rage choked in the chest so the channels of breath do not flow. “Stiff and drowned” is the body constrained and ill at ease, like someone laden with a heavy burden yet forced to climb high. “Grasping comfort” is greedily seeking ease and self-sufficiency; “taking to exhaustion” is using things up completely. The modern saying “when you have leverage, do not use it all” captures the same idea.
“In quiet seclusion one drowns”: unable to bear idleness, one sinks into craving and lust. “When the body is sleek and moist, then one is ‘Feng’”: when flesh is fed until plump and glossy, one becomes Feng—swollen, inflated, and arrogant. “Full as a blocked wall”: heaping wealth higher than a wall is the so-called adu wu (the thing piled right before the eyes—money and goods). “Not knowing avoidance, not knowing when to stop”: not knowing where to draw the line, chasing without end. “Feng and reliance”: leaning on this wealth to show off, unable to let it go, keeping it pressed on the heart—so the mind is all anxious dread, never at ease, and still driven to seek more.
“Judge and invite, seize by force”: pan and qing here carry the sense of robbing and taking by force. Goods stored indoors, fearing thieves, one builds lou shu—adding an upper structure on the wall and opening windows, arranging the room in rings, then moving things outside—yet still fearing great robbers, so one must travel in a crowd and dare not go alone. Shu means window; lou means the storied structure on the wall.
“The six”: disorder, suffering, sickness, disgrace, worry, and fear. “Forgotten and unexamined”: everything slips past without restraint, and one does not even notice.
Dan means “only”; gu shi means doing the same thing over and over, as before. “When sickness has already taken shape”: once the disease runs deep, even if one wishes to preserve life and scatter all wealth, only to live one more day as in the beginning of poor, untroubled living—that is no longer possible. Jin xing quan sheng is preserving one’s nature and completing one’s natural span; jie is to exhaust or cast off; fan yuan is to turn and wish—to leave wealth and status and return to poverty.
Context: In this commentary Feng is usually read as qi swollen to fullness, arrogance, and reliance on possessions; qian originally denotes apes storing food in cheek pouches, which Zhuangzi borrows to speak of greedy stuffing. The whole passage follows the Zhuangzi theme of being enslaved by riches and carrying six afflictions wherever one goes—it is not about specific zhaijiao (purification ritual) or liturgical detail, but uses the body, the dwelling, and fear of theft as images of how fixation on wealth and power becomes the source of disease and dread.
On Fame, Profit, and the Calamity of Contending for Gain
Where then is fame? Where is profit? In the moment of scrambling for gain, one only binds one’s own body and mind—and turns that into disaster. Is that not foolish?
Su Dongpo held that the four chapters from “The Rejection of Kings” (Rang Wang) onward were not written by Zhuangzi—a judgment of great insight. Among the four, “Robber Zhi” (Dao Zhi) is especially suspect. Yet in his “Biography of Zhuangzi,” the Grand Historian mentions only that Zhuangzi wrote “The Old Fisherman” (Yu Fu), “Robber Zhi,” and “Opening Trunks” (Qu Qie) to satirize the followers of Confucius, and shows no doubt whether these chapters match the refinement of language and style of Zhuangzi’s authentic work. Did Sima Qian care only that they criticized Confucius, and neglect to distinguish genuine from spurious writing? Otherwise, this book and these chapters may have been lost or tampered with after the Han—much like the present Liezi.
Miscellaneous Chapter: Explaining Swords (Shuo Jian)
Long ago King Wen of Zhao was fond of swordsmanship. He kept more than three thousand swordsmen at his gate. Day and night they crossed blades in the front hall; each year more than a hundred died or were wounded, yet he never tired of it. After three years Zhao grew weak, and the feudal lords plotted invasion. Crown Prince Kui was deeply troubled and said to those around him: “Whoever can persuade the king to stop keeping swordsmen shall receive a thousand in gold.” They said: “Zhuangzi should be able.” The prince sent someone to present a thousand in gold to Zhuangzi; Zhuangzi refused it and went with the envoy to see the prince. The prince said: “Why did the prince instruct Zhou and bestow a thousand gold on Zhou?” (The text has a dialogue slip in the original—the prince’s reply continues:) “I heard that the Master is wise; I respectfully offer a thousand in gold as a gift. Since the Master would not accept, what more can Kui say?” Zhuangzi said: “I hear the prince wishes to use me because he wants to end the king’s passion for swords. If I go up and persuade the king yet go against his heart, while below I fail the prince, I will suffer punishment and death—of what use then would a thousand in gold be to me? If I go up and persuade the king and below also satisfy the prince, what in Zhao could I not obtain?” The prince said: “It is so. Those my royal father sees are only swordsmen.” Zhuangzi said: “Good—I am skilled at talking about swords.” The prince said: “Yes. The swordsmen my royal father sees all wear disheveled hair, tufted temples, caps with hanging tassels, coarse beards, tasseled belts, and short jackets behind; they glare and speak harshly—only then does the king delight in them. If the Master now goes in scholar’s robes to see the king, the matter will surely go very wrong.” Zhuangzi said: “Let me prepare a swordsman’s dress.” After three days preparing swordsman’s attire, he went to see the prince; the prince then accompanied him to the king. The king set aside his girded sword and received him with courtesy.
Zhuangzi entered the hall without quickening his step, and when he met the king he did not bow. The king asked, “With what do you intend to instruct me?”
Zhuangzi had the crown prince go in first to report, saying, “I have heard that Your Majesty delights in swordsmanship, so I have brought my sword to present myself to Your Majesty.”
The king said, “What can your sword do to subdue an opponent?”
Zhuangzi said, “With my sword, within ten paces I can kill a man; pursued for a thousand li, none can block me.”
The king was greatly pleased: “Then you would be matchless under heaven!”
Zhuangzi said, “Those who train in the sword must show emptiness, open with advantage, and strike first by striking last. Please let me try once.”
The king said, “Sir, rest first at the guest lodge; when I have given orders to arrange the sword contest, I will summon you again.”
The king then gathered swordsmen to compete. For seven days straight, six were killed or wounded; only five or six remained fit for use. He had them hold their swords and stand in attendance below the steps, then summoned Zhuangzi.
The king said, “Today please let the swordsmen contend with Sir.”
Zhuangzi said, “I have long looked forward to this day.”
The king asked, “The sword Sir uses—what is its length?”
Zhuangzi said, “Any I have brought will do. Yet I have three swords; let Your Majesty choose as you wish. Please hear me through on all three swords before we contend.”
The king said, “I would hear of the three swords.”
Zhuangzi said, “There is the sword of the Son of Heaven, the sword of a feudal lord, and the sword of the common man. Which would Your Majesty hear first?”
The king asked, “What is the sword of the Son of Heaven like?”
Zhuangzi said, “The sword of the Son of Heaven takes Yanxi and Shicheng as its point, Qi and Dai as its blade, Jin and Wei as its spine, Zhou and Song as its guard, Han and Wei as its lapel ends (the fittings at the mouth of the scabbard). Outwardly it wraps the four quarters beyond the borders; inwardly it enfolds the four seasons. It is girded by the Bohai Sea and belted by Mount Chang. It is regulated by the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), judged by punitive and nurturing governance, opened and closed by Yin-Yang, enacted in spring and summer and concluded in autumn and winter. This sword thrusts straight and nothing blocks ahead; raised up, nothing covers above; pressed down, nothing supports below; wheeled about, nothing bars on any side. Upward it can sever drifting clouds; downward it can cut the earth’s veins. Once this sword is deployed, feudal lords are set right and all under heaven submit. This is the sword of the Son of Heaven.”
King Wen looked dazed and unsettled, then asked again, “And the sword of a feudal lord?”
Zhuangzi said, “The sword of a feudal lord takes men of wisdom and courage as its point, men of integrity and purity as its blade, men of worth and goodness as its spine, men of loyalty and sagacity as its guard, and men of heroism and eminence as its lapel ends. This sword too, thrust straight, meets no block ahead; raised, no cover above; pressed, no support below; wheeled, no bar on any side. Above it takes the round heaven as model, conforming to the three lights of sun, moon, and stars; below it takes the square earth as model, conforming to the four seasons; in the center it reads the people’s hearts, to settle the villages and quarters on all sides. Once this sword is deployed, it is like thunder shaking forth—within the borders none fail to submit and obey. This is the sword of a feudal lord.”
The King loved swordsmanship and kept more than three thousand swordsmen, who drilled day and night at his gate and cost him a great deal of money each year. Zhuangzi said to the King, “Your Majesty loves swordsmanship; I wish to serve you.” The King asked, “What will you teach me?” Zhuangzi replied, “I have three swords. If Your Majesty wishes to use them, I will present them; if not, I will withdraw.” The King said, “I would like to hear you speak of these three swords.”
Zhuangzi said, “There is the Sword of the Son of Heaven, the Sword of the feudal lords, and the Sword of commoners.” The King asked, “What is the Sword of the Son of Heaven like?” Zhuangzi said, “The state of Yan is the sword-tip, Qi the blade, Jin and Wei the spine, Zhou and Song the guard-ring, and Han the hilt; it is wrapped in the Four Virtues, restrained by the Five Phases (Wuxing), judged by punishment and virtue, and set in motion by spring, summer, autumn, and winter. When this sword is drawn, it cuts the heavens above and severs the earth below, and nothing in the four directions can withstand it. If Your Majesty holds the place of Son of Heaven yet delights in the Sword of commoners, I am privately ashamed on your behalf.”
The King asked, “What is the Sword of the feudal lords like?” Zhuangzi said, “Valiant warriors, sharp strategists, and upright ministers all wait at Your Majesty’s side. When this sword is drawn, it is like a tiger leaving the forest, like a dragon soaring through the depths; the four seasons come to its aid, and heaven and earth in all directions are gathered within it. If Your Majesty holds the place of Son of Heaven yet delights in the Sword of commoners, I am privately ashamed on your behalf.”
The King asked, “What is the Sword of commoners like?” Zhuangzi said, “Men with tangled hair and short coarse clothes glare in anger, trade insults, and strike at one another face to face—chopping at the neck above, stabbing liver and lungs below. This Sword of commoners is no different from cockfighting. Now Your Majesty holds the place of Son of Heaven yet delights in the Sword of commoners; I am privately ashamed on your behalf.” The King then took Zhuangzi by the hand and led him into the palace. When the cook brought food, the King walked three times around it. Zhuangzi said, “Your Majesty, please sit calmly and settle your breath—the matter of the sword is finished.” Thereupon King Wen did not leave his palace for three months, and the swordsmen all submitted and went their separate ways.
“Fu” (服) and “fu” (伏) share the same meaning: to submit and yield. Once the ruler no longer kept these swordsmen who performed for show, they withdrew in turn and submitted; in the end each killed himself in the quarters where he had lived.
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ（KR5c0128）; Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback