《南華真經註疏》Vol. 11

A horse’s hooves can tread on frost and snow, and its coat can ward off wind and cold. When hungry, it eats grass; when thirsty, it drinks water. It lifts its feet and leaps: this is the horse’s nature.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Whether a horse is poor or fine, each is content when suited to its own nature.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: “Bite” means to chew or nibble; “tread” means to step on; “ward off” means to resist; “lift” means to raise. Horses tread on frost and snow with their hooves and fend off cold winds with their coats. When hungry, they nibble grass; when thirsty, they drink water. When they live in comfort and follow their nature, they naturally lift their feet and leap, without needing to seek anything outside themselves. This is their true nature. Would horses really choose to be constrained by reins and tack, shut up in stables, and fed by people? All things in the world differ from one another, and each has its inborn endowments. When they follow their nature and find their proper place, they can live freely, without boasting or making unreasonable demands, and their days can pass in peace.

Even a high terrace where nobles rest and a splendid main hall are of no use to horses.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: It is not in a horse’s nature deliberately to shun saddles or dislike being ridden; it simply does not envy wealth and splendor.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: “Xi Terrace” refers to a pavilion where nobles rest; some say it is simply the “Numinous Terrace.” The “main chamber” refers to a grand hall. Horses by nature love the open countryside, so high terraces and great halls are of no use to them. Quiet, unassuming people and simple folk like thatched huts and are content with plain windows. Even if red pillars and carved rafters were built for them, what use would they be?

Bole, who was famed in legend for his skill in recognizing and training horses, said, “I am skilled at training horses.” So he branded them with hot irons, clipped their coats, trimmed their hooves, fitted them with bridles, and bound them with reins and tack. The horses were shut in stalls and stables, and two or three out of every ten died as a result.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Once one sets out deliberately to manage and improve something, one can no longer truly care for it. Thinking oneself skilled at governing in this way leads precisely to poor governance.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: According to the Liezi, Bole’s surname was Sun, his personal name Yang, and his courtesy name Bole. He was skilled at training horses during the reign of Duke Mu of Qin. “Burn” means to brand a horse with heated iron; “clip” means to cut off its coat; “trim” means to pare its hooves; “bridle” means to fit a bridle; “harness” means to restrain its body with reins, and “hobble” means to bind its front legs. A “stall” is a feeding trough; a “rack” is a wooden platform woven from boards and placed beneath the horse’s feet to keep out damp. Bole could not follow the horses’ nature. Instead, he branded and clipped them at will, going against the natural way, and many horses died. This shows that when one lets go of deliberate intent and follows the nature of all things, life can be preserved more easily. Insisting on interference can shorten even a life’s allotted span.

They make the horses go hungry and thirsty, urge them to run and gallop, line them up in formation and force them to keep the same pace, then dress them in ornate tack. Only when the horses are utterly exhausted do they lash and frighten them with whips and bamboo switches. More than half the horses die as a result.

Note: A skilled horse trainer originally aims to let horses use their abilities fully. But he understands this to mean giving them tasks beyond their natural capacity. So he drives them to run and race, demanding feats that exceed their limits. The horses cannot bear it, and many die. If he instead follows each horse’s strength, letting inferior and superior horses move at a pace suited to their own stamina, then even if their hoofprints reach beyond the eight directions, each horse’s nature can remain intact.

Some people hear that one should follow horses’ nature and conclude that this means letting them do as they please, without training them. They hear the teaching of Wuwei (non-action)—not imposing contrived actions, but following what is natural—and conclude that it is better to lie still than to act. How did their understanding stray so far without returning to the right path? It has departed far from Zhuangzi’s original meaning.

Commentary: A jue is a bit for a horse. Fitting precious ornaments to a bridle is called “adornment.” A whip wrapped in leather is called a bian; one without a leather covering is called a ce. Both are tools for striking horses. The horses are made to run and gallop excessively, leaving them unnaturally hungry and thirsty. They are also kept in line by the yoke and crossbar, made to move in unison by bits and reins, and frightened with whips and switches. They are thus forced to display abilities beyond their natural capacity. Even the frailest horses cannot bear this, and more than half die. If sages and wise people governed the myriad things in the same way, the harm they caused would be just as great.

A potter says, “I am skilled at working clay: I make round vessels that conform to the compass and square ones that conform to the carpenter’s square.”

Commentary: “Molding earth” means shaping clay into vessels; tao also means firing or making objects. Zhi means clay, and can refer to earth more broadly. The point is that the potter skillfully mixes water and earth to make earthenware, shaping vessels whose roundness and squareness conform to the compass and square.

A carpenter says, “I am skilled at working wood: I make curved pieces like hooks and straight pieces that conform to the ink line.”

Commentary: A “hook” refers to a curved shape; a “line” refers to the ink line used to check straightness. The point is that the carpenter is highly skilled, able to work wood so that its curves meet the standard of the hook and its straight edges conform to the ink line.

But are the natures of clay and wood shaped in order to conform to the compass, square, hook, and ink line?

Commentary: The nature of earth and wood is bestowed by the Creator. They do not seek straightness or curvature, nor do they envy square or round shapes. Yet potters and carpenters presume to judge them good or bad.

Still, generation after generation, people praise them, saying, “Bole was skilled at training horses; potters and carpenters are skilled at working clay and wood.” This, too, is the very mistake made by those who govern the world.

Note: People often assume that someone who follows nature and does not impose artifice is unfit to govern. They force what is crooked to become straight, make inferior horses practice the feats of fine steeds, and correct the nature of all things according to rules until they are exhausted. Then they call this good governance. Is that not a mistake?

Commentary: This passage sums up what came before, using the examples of training horses and making vessels to explain the problem of governing the world. Yet people’s understanding is foolish and confused, …

When the world is governed well, that is goodness; when it is governed badly, that is falseness—acting against one’s true nature and deliberately contriving. There is no greater falseness than this.

I think that those who are skilled at governing the world do not act in this way.

Note: Governing by not governing is the way to govern well.

Commentary: That is indeed so. Zhuangzi says, “I think that those who are skilled at governing the world are not like the potters and others mentioned earlier…” The way to govern the world well is set out below.

The people each have their constant nature: they weave cloth to make clothes and cultivate the land to obtain food. This is called “shared De”—their natures are, in broad terms, alike.

Note: Although the people’s De differs in small ways, its roots are the same. Thus, the needs of their nature that cannot be abandoned are food and clothing, and the tasks that cannot be dispensed with are weaving and farming. These are the common foundations of all under Heaven. To keep to this Way is to reach the utmost in Wuwei (non-action).

Commentary: “The people” means everyone. All living beings have a true and constant nature that does not depend on external things for its existence. “De” means what one has received. By following their true and constant nature, each is able to be self-sufficient; this is why it is called “shared De.” Guo Xiang says, “The needs of their nature that cannot be abandoned are food and clothing, and the tasks that cannot be dispensed with are weaving and farming. These are the common foundations of all under Heaven. To keep to this Way is the utmost in Wuwei.”

All things return to unity without favoritism. This is called “Heaven’s release”—letting things follow their natural course.

Note: When things are left to follow their nature, they return of their own accord to unity. This involves no favoritism, and so is called “Heaven’s release.”

Commentary: “Favoritism” means taking sides; “naming” means giving a name; “Heaven” means nature. The empty, still, and all-pervading Great Way nurtures all things without partiality. To deliberately govern them would violate their natural natures. Let each thing follow its own course, and each will be self-sufficient; this is why it is called “Heaven’s release.”

Thus, in the age of highest De—when virtue was deep and complete—people moved with ease and held their gaze upright.

Note: This describes people who are content within themselves and do not seek outwardly.

Commentary: “Tian-tian” describes inner contentment; “dian-dian” describes an upright, lofty bearing. In ancient times, when simplicity and harmony were deep and De was complete, people no longer dwelled on right and wrong, and in their actions forgot the distinction between self and things. They kept to their true nature, were content within themselves, and lived calmly in Wuwei, seeking nothing outside themselves. Their bearing was upright, and they lived at ease in stillness and simplicity.

At that time, there were no paths or tunnels in the mountains, and no boats or bridges across the marshes.

Note: People did not seek benefits beyond their proper share. They were content with their lot, and each had enough.

Commentary: “Path” means a small trail, “tunnel” a passageway, and “boat” a vessel. This describes the age of highest De: people kept to their proper place, all things were simple, and no one struggled to take from another. There was therefore no need to cut paths or build boats and bridges for crossing the water.

All beings were connected and lived together in their own communities.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: In the age before the world was divided, when all was simple and harmonious, the myriad things each received their nature from nature itself and lived among one another without concern. How could there have been distinctions between different lands and differing customs?

Explanatory note: In that simple, undivided age, society was harmonious and people were free of desire, so nothing stood between them. All things were joined and lived in one place; sentient beings, too, depended on and belonged to one another, sharing a single community. How could there have been different forms of government or different household customs?

Birds and beasts lived in flocks, while plants and trees grew in abundance.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Each thing was content with its own nature and knew when it had enough. It had no desire to conquer or plunder, and so each remained whole.

Explanatory note: Birds and beasts did not harm one another, so they could live in flocks. Plants, fruits, and vegetables were not cut down, and so they could flourish.

Thus, people could tether birds and beasts and take them along for amusement; they could also climb up to the nests of birds and magpies to look inside.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: People and the myriad things did not harm one another, so the myriad things were tame.

Explanatory note: People had no intention of harming the myriad things, and the myriad things were not afraid of people. Thus, people could tether wild birds and animals and take them along for amusement; they could also climb up to the nests of birds and magpies and peer inside.

In the age of the purest De, people lived alongside birds and beasts and existed together with the myriad things. How could anyone tell who was a noble person and who was a petty person?

Explanatory note: Those who follow external things and act crookedly are called petty people; those who follow the right way and act uprightly are called noble people. But in that age, people lived either in nests or in caves, no different from birds and beasts. Once they had eaten their fill, they lived in peace, mingled with the myriad things. How could anyone know who was noble, or distinguish who was petty?

When all beings shared a state without distinctions, their De did not scatter.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: As soon as people form distinctions, they depart from the Great Way and pursue what is called goodness.

Explanatory note: People had no thoughts of distinguishing themselves from one another, so they shared a state of unknowing and non-distinction. They did not rely on cunning De to achieve results in their conduct, but remained whole and did not depart from their nature.

All beings were equally without desire. This is called simplicity.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Once desire arises, beings depart from their nature and turn to embellishment.

Explanatory note: When all things return to their original state of desirelessness, each is tranquil and at peace. This differs from later ages, when people pursued empty splendor and everyone lost their simplicity.

By preserving simplicity, the people could keep their natural inborn nature intact.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: There is no need to trouble oneself over cleverness and desire.

Explanatory note: The people lose their nature because they are burdened by desire. Without desire, they preserve simplicity and do not lose their true nature; this is why it is called “attaining one’s nature.” This sentence sums up the fine qualities of the age of utmost De described above.

When the sages appeared…

Guo Xiang’s commentary: “Sages” are merely the outward manifestation of the people’s recovery of their nature; they are not the fundamental cause of that recovery. The phrase “when the sages appeared” means: when the deeds of the sages came to light…

When people make a point of being benevolent, they deliberately put on a strained show of doing good. When they make a point of being righteous, they strike a self-important pose and set themselves up to judge. So people everywhere begin to doubt. When people pursue extravagant, indulgent music, they make a point of elaborate, affected ritual, and the world begins to divide.

Commentary: Once the conduct of sages is put on display, benevolence and righteousness lose their natural purity, while ritual and music become detached from human nature. People learn only the outward forms. These failings arise along with the appearance of sages. What can I say about this?

Explanation: Up to this point, the text has discussed the Virtue of simplicity and authenticity; from here on, it criticizes the harm caused by the conduct of sages. “Sages” here refers to those after the Five Emperors who promoted the Way of the sages. “Bixie” describes acting with strained effort, while “diqi” describes a self-satisfied, boastful manner. “Chanman” refers to a desire for unrestrained pleasure, and “zhaipi” to calculated, convoluted behavior. As the Way of simplicity declines, shallowness and pretense arise: “diqi” appears as righteousness that presumes to judge right and wrong; “bixie” appears as benevolence that exaggerates partiality; “chanman” appears as a reverence for extravagant, licentious music; and “zhaipi” as a taste for elaborate, affected ritual. Thus the world falls apart, people become confused, and the disruption of the natural order begins.

If an intact log is left uncarved, who would turn it into an ox-shaped vessel for ritual wine? If white jade is left unharmed, how could it be made into ritual objects such as the gui and zhang?

Explanation: “Simplicity” refers to unworked wood; “unharmed” means uncarved. A “xi zun” is a wine vessel carved in the shape of an ox and used in ancestral temple rites. A pointed jade tablet is called a “gui,” and a half-gui-shaped tablet is called a “zhang.” These objects serve as metaphors: a style of governance that prizes display and embellishment damages what is naturally simple.

When the Dao and De have not declined, what need is there for benevolence and righteousness?

Explanation: This draws the preceding metaphors together into a general principle. In an age when the Great Dao prevails, there is no need to make a point of distinguishing right from wrong. When the highest De is widespread, people need not argue over likes and dislikes. Without partial love, people’s hearts are naturally at peace; without attachment to right and wrong, outward reputation and inner substance no longer diverge. Thus the Laozi says, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness appear.”

When people’s natural dispositions have not become scattered, what need is there for ritual and music?

Explanation: Ritual restrains outward behavior, while music harmonizes the heart. If feelings are not in disarray, why use music to harmonize them? If one’s nature has not strayed, why labor to restrain it with ritual? This shows that harmonizing the heart and restraining behavior become necessary only after the Great Dao has declined.

If the five colors were not mixed together, who would need decorative patterns? If the five tones were not in disarray, why would anyone need the six pitch standards to tune them?

Commentary: All these things turn simplicity into ornament, abandon what is fundamental in favor of what is secondary, and thereby damage people’s original nature. Though people of the world prize them, they are not truly worthy of being prized.

Explanation: Decorative patterns emerge through the interplay of different colors, while music depends on different tones harmonizing with one another. Without distinctions and contrasts among colors and sounds, the musical tones such as gong and shang, and the decorative patterns such as fu and fu, would have no purpose. This metaphor again illustrates the point made above.

When a craftsperson turns uncarved wood into an implement, it is the craftsperson’s fault. When a sage damages the Great Dao and its natural De by establishing benevolence and righteousness, it is the sage’s fault.

[Note] Craftworkers use rules and standards as guides for making things; sages, in turn, leave behind conduct worthy of emulation.

[Commentary] This sums up the preceding argument. A craftsperson makes a zu zun, a wine vessel used in sacrifice, from a piece of wood, damaging its original simplicity. A sage sets up examples of benevolent and righteous conduct, likewise damaging the Dao of Wuwei (non-action). Since both cause harm, their faults should be judged alike.

Horses live on land, eating grass and drinking water. When pleased, they rub necks with one another; when angry, they turn their backs and stamp their hooves. This is all that a horse’s nature and intelligence require.

[Note] If horses are handled in accordance with their nature and allowed to draw on their natural abilities, they can travel great distances without harm to their inborn nature.

[Commentary] “Mi” means to rub or yield; “di” means to stamp; “yi” means to reach its limit. The joys and angers of all things arise from their nature, and their actions follow that nature rather than being contrived. Thus, when horses are pleased, they rub necks with one another; when angry, they turn away and stamp. Their intelligence need go no further. Eating grass and drinking water, they find contentment in their lives.

But if crossbars and neck yokes are fitted to horses, and crescent-shaped ornaments are used to restrain their foreheads, they will glance sideways, bend their heads to evade them, and struggle by charging and butting. They may even try to spit out the bit or secretly slip their bridles.

[Commentary] “Heng” is the crossbar at the front of a chariot shaft; “e” is the wooden piece placed around a horse’s neck. “Yue ti” refers to a crescent-shaped ornament attached to the horse’s forehead. “Jie” means to glance sideways, “ni” to peer, “yin” to bend, “zhi” to butt, and “man” to charge suddenly; “gui” means to deceive, and “qie” to slip away secretly. Horses by nature enjoy running freely; they do not seek adornment or splendor. Later, people placed ornaments on their foreheads and restrained them with crossbars and neck yokes. This violated their nature and made their hardships unbearable. They responded by glancing aside, bending their heads to escape, and butting their handlers; they also secretly slipped their bridles or spat out their bits. These acts of resistance arose because their nature had been damaged, giving rise to contrivance and deceit.

Thus, the intelligence horses possess by nature has turned into a skill for slipping their harness. This is the fault of Bo Le.

[Note] Horses have different natures, yet people demand that they all perform uniformly. As a result, some are exhausted, while others develop various kinds of cunning.

[Commentary] A horse’s nature is suited to running freely across the open country. Once it is forced to run excessively, it develops a mind for contrivance and deceit and begins to evade and break free. The fault lies with Bo Le.

In the age when Xu You ruled—the legendary ruler of high antiquity—the people lived in peace and contentment. They did not know what they were supposed to do or where they were supposed to go. With food in their mouths, they took their ease; patting their bellies, they played freely. This was all that life for people in their natural state required.

When the ancient ruler Hexu governed the world, the people naturally possessed this kind of disposition. Hexu was an early sovereign. Some say that “Hexu” means his Virtue was so evident that the people all rallied to him. Others believe he was the Flame Emperor.

In an age that followed the Dao and governed through Wuwei (non-action), people had no worries or concerns in their hearts. They lived in peace, without deliberately striving to achieve anything. They acted according to their nature, wandering freely without fixating on a destination. Later, once they had eaten their fill, they played joyfully, just like infants. They patted their bellies and leisurely enjoyed themselves, no different from children. This was an age of utmost simplicity, when the people could preserve their natural disposition.

But when sages established ritual and music to regulate people’s conduct, and held up benevolence and righteousness for all to admire and pursue, hoping thereby to soothe their hearts, people began to stretch on tiptoe to get ahead, flaunt their cleverness, and compete in the pursuit of profit, unable to stop. This, too, may be called a failing of the sages.

The commentary explains that the people’s many failings all stem from behaviors that are held up for admiration and set forth as examples to follow.

The subcommentary explains: Through the many formalities of ritual and music, the sages corrected people’s conduct. They also raised benevolence and righteousness high for people to look up to and pursue, hoping in this way to calm their hearts. As a result, people began to boast of getting ahead and flaunt their cleverness. A tendency toward artifice and deceit arose, and they busied themselves seeking wealth and office, competing with one another without knowing when to be satisfied. Alas, these were failings brought about by the traces the sages left behind.