《南華真經循本》Vol. 9

This passage from the Nanhua Zhenjing (Zhuangzi), chapter "Webbed Toes," primarily discusses innate superfluous features in humans and the problems of artificial contrivance. Luo Miandao's commentary explains:

The "webbed toes" (where the big toe is fused with the second toe) or the extra "branching fingers" on hands, though innate, are considered excessive from the perspective of natural human endowment. Similarly, the "attached growths" (superfluous flesh) and "hanging tumors" on the body, though physically present, are also deemed redundant when viewed against the standard of natural perfection.

The text criticizes the excessive enforcement of benevolence and righteousness (renyi), likening it to forcibly assigning these virtues to the internal organs (e.g., the liver governing benevolence, the lungs governing righteousness), which distorts their intrinsic nature. Just as webbed toes are useless flesh and branching fingers are useless digits, overemphasizing renyi perverts the true disposition of the organs.

Four types of excess are then enumerated:

• Excessive pursuit of visual pleasure ("webbed vision") confuses the five colors, as exemplified by Li Zhu from the Yellow Emperor's era—a man with extraordinary eyesight who could discern the tip of an autumn hair a hundred paces away—yet became lost in extravagant ornamentation.
• Excessive pursuit of auditory pleasure ("branching hearing") disrupts the five notes, like the famed musician Shi Kuang, who indulged in the intricate harmonies of various instruments.
• Excessive promotion of renyi ("branching benevolence") resembles the conduct of Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu, who elevated morality while suppressing innate nature to gain fame, pressuring others to follow unattainable standards like mindless reeds blown by the wind.
• Excessive debate ("webbed disputation") involves piling up tiles or weaving knots—a metaphor for the sophistry of "hardness-whiteness" and "sameness-difference" (typical propositions of the Logicians during the Warring States period)—wasting mental energy on meaningless verbal games.

The commentary clarifies that "Li Zhu" is the same as Li Lou mentioned in Mencius, while "Zeng-Shi" refers to Confucius' disciple Zeng Shen and the Wei statesman Shi Qiu. These examples collectively illustrate that any development beyond natural disposition—whether innate or acquired—constitutes unnecessary burdens.

This passage critiques the popular debate techniques and moral preachings of the time, viewing them as practices that violate natural spontaneity. Those skilled in argumentation are likened to exhausted men who can only take half-steps, or to trivial tricks like stacking pottery or tying knots—while appearing clever, they fundamentally deviate from the true path (Dao).

Through vivid metaphors, the author illustrates how all things possess their innate nature: a wild duck's legs may be short, but lengthening them would cause pain; a crane's legs may be long, but shortening them would bring sorrow. Neither natural length nor brevity should be artificially altered. Similarly, forcibly straightening objects with hooks and rulers, or fixing things with glue and ropes, violates their intrinsic qualities. Imposing rituals, music, and moral teachings (renyi) to pacify people's minds only strips them of their natural state.

The text particularly satirizes two types of people: so-called "benevolent persons" (renren) who anxiously fret over worldly troubles, and "non-benevolent persons" who sacrifice their true nature in pursuit of wealth and status. Since the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), people have ceaselessly debated benevolence and righteousness (renyi), creating nothing but clamorous noise.

The authentic way of spontaneity (ziran) is this: the curved needs no hook to straighten, the straight needs no plumb line to measure, the round needs no compass, the square needs no set square, bonding requires no glue, and binding needs no ropes. All things grow naturally without knowing why they grow, and all find fulfillment without knowing why they're fulfilled. This is the eternal, unchanging Dao (the Way), true for all ages.

This passage primarily discusses how "benevolence and righteousness" (renyi) damage our natural disposition. Zhuangzi believed that rigid adherence to moral virtues actually disrupts humanity's innate nature.

The text observes that throughout history, people have harmed their fundamental nature in various ways: petty persons sacrifice themselves for profit, scholars sacrifice themselves for fame, officials sacrifice themselves for their clans, and sages sacrifice themselves for the world. Though their pursuits differ, they all essentially injure their original nature.

The author employs a parable of two shepherds to illustrate this principle: one loses his sheep while reading books, another loses his while gambling. Though their activities differ, the outcome—lost sheep—remains the same. Similarly, Boyi died at Shouyang Mountain for the sake of reputation while the robber Zhi died at Dongling for profit—their deaths differ in cause but equally represent damage to life and innate nature.

Finally, the text questions conventional distinctions between noblemen and petty men: if both sacrifice themselves for certain ends, what truly separates the robber Zhi from Boyi? Even those thoroughly versed in benevolence and righteousness like Zeng Shen or Shi Yu may fail to preserve their fundamental nature.

This passage embodies Zhuangzi's philosophy of "honoring Dao and De while downplaying benevolence and righteousness," suggesting that excessive pursuit of moral virtues contradicts the natural Dao and harms humanity's authentic nature.

The "goodness" (zang) discussed here does not refer to indulging in the pleasures of the five flavors (sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty), even if one were as skilled in seasoning as Yu'er (an ancient connoisseur of taste). The philosopher Shizi records that Yu'er used ginger to harmonize flavors and prepared exquisite meals for rulers, yet this is not the goodness I speak of.

Nor does it mean indulging in the five tones (the pentatonic scale: gong, shang, jue, zhi, yu), even if one were as musically gifted as Shi Kuang (a renowned musician of the Spring and Autumn period). Still less does it refer to indulging in the five colors (blue, red, yellow, white, black), even if one had the sharp vision of Li Zhu (a legendary figure with extraordinary eyesight). The goodness I speak of is not about external displays of benevolence and righteousness but the cultivation of inner De (Virtue/Power).

The goodness I refer to is not the pursuit of reputation for righteousness but the alignment with one’s natural disposition. The wisdom I speak of is not the ability to hear external sounds but the capacity to listen to one’s inner voice. The clarity I describe is not about seeing external things but perceiving one’s true self. If a person cannot recognize themselves yet obsessively observes the external world, or cannot abide in their own nature yet chases after external things, they are acquiring what belongs to others rather than themselves, following another’s path rather than their own.

Whether one is like the infamous robber Zhi, who indulged in desires, or like the recluse Boyi, who rigidly upheld asceticism, both are equally misguided if they violate their innate nature. Deeply aware of my own shortcomings in cultivating Dao and De, I dare neither flaunt the so-called noble virtues of benevolence and righteousness nor indulge in eccentric behavior.