《南華真經註疏》Vol. 31

Confucius and Liu Xiahui were friends. Liu Xiahui’s younger brother was called Robber Zhi (Dao Zhi).

Robber Zhi led nine thousand followers in rampaging across the realm, harassing and oppressing the feudal lords. He broke through walls and forced open barred gates, drove off others’ cattle and horses, and abducted their wives and daughters. Greedy without limit, he paid no heed even to his own kin: he did not honor his parents, look after his brothers, or sacrifice to his ancestors. Wherever Robber Zhi went, great states had to strengthen their defenses and small states had their people take refuge in fortified strongholds, so the common people suffered deeply from his depredations.

The commentary explains: Liu Xiahui had the surname Zhan, the personal name Qin, and the courtesy name Ji; he took the name from his fief at Liuxia, though some say he lived beneath a willow tree and acquired the epithet that way. Zhan Qin lived in the time of Duke Zhuang of Lu, more than a century apart from Confucius; the text’s claim that the two were friends should be read as parable. Robber Zhi was Zhan Qin’s younger brother; because he constantly acted as a great bandit, he was called “Robber Zhi.” Breaking through houses and tearing off door bars to seize others’ cattle and horses is part of that picture. “Bao” here means a small fortified redoubt; Robber Zhi’s harm was so great that the people were worn down in misery.

Confucius said to Liu Xiahui, “A father ought to be able to instruct his son; an elder brother ought to be able to instruct his younger brother. If a father cannot teach his son and an elder brother cannot teach his brother, then the affection between father and son and between brothers loses its point. You, sir, are a man of talent and De (virtue) in this age, yet your younger brother has become a scourge upon the world and you cannot instruct him—I feel ashamed on your behalf. I wish to go and admonish him for you.”

Liu Xiahui replied, “You say a father ought to teach his son and an elder brother his younger brother. But if a son will not heed his father’s teaching and a younger brother will not accept his elder brother’s counsel, then no matter how skilled you are at argument, what can you do? Moreover, this man Robber Zhi has a mind that surges like a spring and thoughts that drift like the wind. His strength is enough to face down enemies, and his eloquence enough to cloak his faults. When things go his way he is pleased; when they do not, he flies into a rage, and his words readily humiliate others. Please, sir, do not go.”

Confucius did not accept the warning. He had Yan Hui drive the carriage and Zigong take the seat on the right as chariot companion, and together they went to call on Robber Zhi. At that time Robber Zhi was on the southern slope of Mount Tai, resting his troops and cutting out human livers to eat.

The commentary explains that “bu” here means to eat, and that Zigong’s place on the right is the ancient position of the attendant who rode beside the driver.

Confucius got down from his carriage and walked forward to greet the messenger, saying: “Kong Qiu of Lu, having heard that General [Robber Zhi] is of lofty virtue, has come especially to pay a visit.” Having said this, he bowed twice to the messenger. The messenger went in to report. When Robber Zhi heard this, he flew into a rage; his eyes glared like stars, and his hair stood on end as though it would lift his cap from his head. He said: “Isn’t this that crafty, hypocritical fellow Kong Qiu from Lu? What has he come here for? Tell him: he fabricates words and presumptuously claims the legacy of King Wen and King Wu.”

Confucius took King Wen and King Wu as his standards and Yao and Shun as his models, regulated ritual and music, and wished to pass down the deeds of the ancient sage-kings to later generations.

Robber Zhi continued: “He wears an ornate cap with decorations as profuse as tree branches, and girds himself with a belt made from the hide of a dead ox.” The commentary explains: “rib” (xie) refers to the ribs. Here it means the ceremonial cap Confucius wore was lavishly adorned, its leaf-like ornaments dense like branches; he also used oxhide for a belt, which was both broad and stiff, its shape likewise resembling ox ribs.

“His mouth is full of rhetoric; he speaks absurd words. He does not plow yet eats; he does not weave yet wears clothes. He only wags his lips and flaps his tongue, stirring up rights and wrongs, and bewilders the rulers of the world. He keeps the men of learning throughout the world from returning to their roots. Under the pretext of filial piety and fraternity, he in fact schemes for enfeoffment and wealth.”

The commentary explains that “to hope and aspire” (jiǎoxìng) means to hope and aspire. Here it means that some speak of filial piety and fraternity and arrange the order of human relations, yet in their hearts they think only of enfeoffment and riches. Therefore Confucius wandered and preached without cease; he was once satirized by Jieyu with the “O Phoenix” song; he abandoned the root and clung to traces of antiquity, and was also mocked by Master Jin with the “straw dog” (the straw dog used in sacrifice, then discarded after the rite).

Robber Zhi went on: “Your crime is enormous. Run back quickly! If not, I will take your liver and add it to today’s meal.”

Confucius again had someone report: “I, Kong Qiu, have fortunately received the patronage of the Ji clan; I am willing to come beneath General’s tent to pay my respects.”

The commentary explains that this is Confucius speaking humbly that he is fortunate to associate with the worthy; he dares not directly ask to behold his countenance, but only wishes to see his footprints beneath the tent. Some versions read “footprint of the shoes” (lü qí); “qí” means shoe prints—the sense is still that he hopes to glimpse the other’s footprints.

The messenger went in again to report. Robber Zhi said: “Let him enter.” Confucius hurried in, withdrew to the edge of the mat, bowed twice, then stepped back and withdrew. Robber Zhi raged greatly; he spread his legs, pressed his hand on his sword, glared, and roared in a voice like a newborn tiger: “Kong Qiu, come here! If what you say accords with my mind, you may live; if it goes against my mind, you must die.”

Confucius said: “I have heard that in the world there are three kinds of virtue. Some are tall of stature and handsome of appearance, without equal; whether old or young, high or low in rank, all who see them are pleased—this is the highest virtue. Some comprehend the principles of Heaven and Earth and can distinguish all things—this is middling virtue. Still others are courageous and resolute and can gather the multitude…”

Practices such as “leading troops in war” belong to the lower grade of De (virtue). An ordinary person who excels in even one such skill could face south and sit in the ruler’s seat, styling himself “the lonely one.” Yet the general now combines all three talents: he stands eight feet two inches tall, with a bright countenance, ruddy lips, and even white teeth; his voice is resonant and matches the pitch of the Yellow Bell (the first of the twelve standard tones)—and still he is called “Robber Zhi” (the legendary bandit). I, Qiu (Kong Qiu, i.e., Confucius), feel privately sorry for the general and think he ought not to bear such a name.

Commentary: “Ji” means bright and striking; “bei” refers to pearls and shells; “Yellow Bell” is one of the six pitch standards.

If the general is willing to heed my words, I ask leave to go as envoy to Wu and Yue in the south, Qi and Lu in the north, Song and Wei in the east, and Jin and Chu in the west, to build for him great cities stretching for hundreds of li, to establish fiefs of hundreds of thousands of households, to honor him as a feudal lord, and to let the world change its course from that day on. The general could cease warfare, let the soldiers rest and recover, gather and support his brothers, and worship the ancestors together. That would be the conduct of sages and men of talent, and the wish of everyone under Heaven.

Robber Zhi flew into a rage and said: “Kong Qiu, come here! Those who can be lured by profit or admonished with words are foolish, shallow commoners. I am tall and handsome, and people delight to see me—that is a gift my parents gave me. If you, Kong Qiu, do not praise me, do I not already know it myself? Moreover, I have heard that those who love to flatter people to their faces also love to slander them behind their backs. You propose great cities and multitudes of people—you want to tempt me with profit and keep me like an ordinary man in a pen. How could such an arrangement last?”

Commentary: Robber Zhi holds that the benefits of a great city and many subjects cannot endure for long.

No walled place is larger than “all under Heaven.” Yao and Shun possessed the realm, yet later their descendants had not even room to stick an awl.

Commentary: Yao yielded the throne to Shun and did not pass it to his son Danzhu; Shun yielded it to Yu, and his son Shangjun likewise did not inherit—so their descendants later had nowhere to stand.

Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou founded their dynasties and became Sons of Heaven, yet their lines later died out. Is this not because power and profit were too great and thereby drew disaster upon them?

Commentary: Tang of the Yin (Shang) and Wu of Zhou held all affairs of the realm, yet their descendants suffered usurpation or slaughter. Was it not because the profit of the whole world was too heavy, and so produced such an outcome?

Moreover, I have heard that in antiquity beasts were many and people few; people built nests in trees to escape wild animals. By day they gathered acorns and chestnuts to eat; by night they roosted in the trees—so the people of that age were called “the Nest-builders.” In antiquity people did not yet know how to wear clothes; in summer they piled firewood, in winter they huddled by the fire—so they were called “the Fire-knowing folk.” In the age of the Divine Farmer (Shennong), lying down they were calm and at ease; rising they moved freely and at leisure.

Commentary: “Juju” describes quiet, settled repose; “yuyu” describes ease and self-contentment.

The common people knew their mothers but not their fathers. They lived among deer, farmed for food, wove for clothing, and harbored no wish to harm one another. This was virtue (De) brought to its fullest height. Yet the Yellow Emperor did not attain this. He fought Chiyou on the plain of Zhuolu, and blood flowed for a hundred li.

Commentary: “Reach” (zhi) means to attain. Chiyou was a feudal lord; Zhuolu is a place-name, in the region of today’s Zhuo commandery in You province. Chiyou forged all kinds of weapons and battled the Yellow Emperor, hence blood for a hundred li.

Yao and Shun were the first to appoint ministers and officials.

Commentary: That is, they established the ranks of office.

Lord Tang of Shang banished his sovereign.

Commentary: Tang of Shang exiled Jie of Xia to Nanchao.

King Wu of Zhou killed King Zhou of Shang.

Commentary: This happened in the battle at Chaoge.

After that, the strong bullied the weak and the numerous oppressed the few. From the time of Tang and Wu downward, those who disturbed the realm were precisely such men.

Commentary: Waging war, launching punitive campaigns, usurping thrones and regicide—Tang and Wu were the most extreme cases.

Now you cultivate the ways of Kings Wen and Wu of Zhou and master the arts of disputation used to govern the world, employing them to instruct later generations.

Commentary: Confucius revered and took as his model Wen and Wu, preached benevolence and righteousness, and made these the teaching for posterity.

You wear broad Confucian robes and thin sashes, polish your words and counterfeit your conduct, and beguile the rulers of the world, hoping thereby to win wealth and rank. There is no greater robber under heaven than you. Why does the world not call you “Robber Qiu” yet calls me Robber Zhi?

Commentary: Those who wear broad Confucian robes and thin sashes and deliberately adorn speech and conduct to mislead the feudal lords do more harm to the world than Robber Zhi.

With pleasing words you persuaded Zilu to follow you; you also made Zilu doff his high cap and unsheathe his long sword and accept your instruction. Everyone under heaven said that Kong Qiu could restrain violence and forbid wrongdoing.

Commentary: The high cap and long sword were the gear of a brave warrior. Once Zilu submitted to Confucius, he laid these aside.

In the end Zilu wished to kill the lord of Wei; the affair failed, and he himself was minced into paste atop the east gate of Wei. This shows your teaching did not achieve its aim.

Commentary: Zhong You (Zilu) had a fierce hatred of evil and wished to kill the lord of Wei, Kuaikui; he could not bring it off and was cut to pieces. Hence Robber Zhi uses this to mock Confucius.

You call yourself a man of talent and virtue, a sage? Yet you were twice driven from Lu, had your tracks erased in Wei, were at your wits’ end in Qi, and were besieged between Chen and Cai—nowhere under heaven could hold you. You taught Zilu, and he was minced into paste; your teaching could not secure you above nor establish others below. Can your doctrine really…

Are they truly worthy of honor? Among what the world esteems, none surpasses the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi); yet even he could not preserve his virtue intact—he fought at Zhuolu (an ancient place-name), and blood flowed for a hundred li. Yao was said to lack parental kindness—the commentary holds this was because he did not pass the realm to his son Danzhu. Shun was said to be unfilial—the commentary holds this was because his father disliked him. Yu suffered from hemiplegia—the commentary holds that from toiling too hard at flood control, rushing about in wind and rain, half his body became paralyzed. King Tang of Shang banished his lord; King Wu of Zhou attacked King Zhou of Shang. King Wen of Zhou was once imprisoned in Youli (the name of a Shang-era prison); the commentary says he was persecuted by King Zhou and held for seven years before he could escape.

These six figures are all objects of the world’s admiration. Examined closely, each was beguiled by profit and forced against his own nature; what they did was in truth deeply shameful. The commentary says these six are Huangdi, Yao, Shun, Yu, Shang Tang, and King Wen of Zhou; all lost the true Dao in pursuit of the profit of ruling the realm and failed to return to their original authenticity, and thus were shameful.

Among those the world calls worthy men are also Bo Yi and Shu Qi. Bo Yi and Shu Qi resigned the lordship of Guzhu, later starved to death on Mount Shouyang, and after death no one gathered or buried their bodies. Bao Jiao deliberately polished his conduct to scorn the vulgar world, embraced a tree, and died. The commentary says Bo Yi and Shu Qi died in distress on Mount Shou, with no descendants to bury them. Bao Jiao, surname Bao, given name Jiao, was a recluse of the Zhou era. He deliberately maintained purity, refused to go along with the world, gathered firewood and picked acorns to eat, and therefore had no descendants. He would not serve the Son of Heaven nor associate with feudal lords. Zigong met him and asked, “I have heard that one who disapproves of a ruler’s policies does not tread his soil; one who finds the ruler corrupt does not accept his stipend. Now you live on his land and eat his food—is that fitting?” Bao Jiao replied, “I have heard that the pure-hearted value advancing and slight retreat; the worthy are quick to shame and slight death.” Thereupon he stood embracing the tree until he withered and died.

Shentu Di offered remonstrance but was not heeded; he shouldered a stone, leapt into the river, and was eaten by fish and turtles. The commentary says Shentu Di’s death by drowning was already explained above; as for the claim that he remonstrated but was not listened to, the source is unclear—though Cui Jia offered an explanation, he did not make clear what exactly was remonstrated about.

Jiezi Tui was utterly loyal; he once cut flesh from his own thigh for Duke Wen of Jin to eat; later Duke Wen turned against him, Jiezi Tui left in anger, embraced a tree, and was burned to death. The commentary says Duke Wen of Jin is Chong’er. When he suffered the disaster of Li Ji and fled abroad, exhausted on the road, Jiezi Tui cut flesh from his leg to feed him. Duke Wen later returned to his state…

Those who followed him handed his fief over to someone else, and so they forgot Zitui. Zitui composed the “Song of Dragon and Serpent.” The officer at his camp gate left in anger, then later felt ashamed and apologized to him. Duke Wen of Jin went to Mount Jie to find Zitui. Zitui withdrew and hid; the duke then ordered the mountain set afire, hoping he would come out. When the flames reached him, Zitui embraced a tree and was burned to death.

Weisheng had arranged to meet a woman under a bridge; she did not come, yet the river rose. Weisheng still would not leave and clung to a bridge pillar until he drowned. The conduct of these six men differed little from that of a dog cut limb from limb, a pig adrift on the water, or a poor sick man begging with a ladle in hand: all were dragged along by reputation, treated life lightly, ignored what is fundamental, and failed to understand how to nourish life.

The commentary says: the “six men” are Boyi, Shuqi, Bao Jiao, Shentu, Jie Tui, and Weisheng. These six did not accord with the profound Dao; they adorned their dispositions and polished their conduct, bent on being unlike the common world. They won names that would live in later ages, but that was only deliberate eccentricity. Like a dismembered dog, a pig floating on the water, or a destitute person begging with a ladle—such people and deeds are not worth esteem. The six acted the same way: they prized fame and slighted life, did not know how to return to the root and nourish life, and wore out their allotted years. The received text varies in places: one reading has “pig” (豕) where another has “death” (死), and “flee” (走) where another has “beg” (乞); by sense one may read 豕 as pig.

Among loyal ministers spoken of in the world, none are more celebrated than Prince Bi Gan and Wu Zixu. Zixu was sunk in the river; Bi Gan’s chest was cut open and his heart taken out. The world calls them loyal ministers, yet in the end they were still mocked by all beneath heaven.

The commentary says: those who have penetrated the great Dao will mock them.

From the higher standpoint, even Zixu and Bi Gan are not much to admire. As for the teachings of Kong Qiu (Confucius): if they concern ghosts and spirits, I truly cannot know; if they concern human affairs, they amount to no more than this—things I have heard and understood. Now I will tell you about human disposition: the eyes wish to see colors, the ears wish to hear sounds, the mouth wishes to distinguish flavors, and the mind and vital energy wish to be satisfied.

The commentary says: seeing with the eyes, hearing with the ears, tasting with the mouth, and the mind’s seeking satisfaction are all acting in accord with innate nature—what the Creator has given. Why go against nature and force oneself? Human lot lies therein, and the Dao lies therein too.

A person’s lifespan may reach a hundred years in the long case, eighty in the middle, and sixty in the short. Even after deducting illness, decline, death, funerals, and cares, the days in a lifetime when one laughs freely scarcely amount to four or five in a month. Heaven and earth have no end, but human death has its time; if one spends spirit only on…

Time flows on without cease. A person lodges for a moment in the boundless realm between heaven and earth, then is gone in a flash—no different from a swift horse bolting past a door crack.

Commentary: Heaven and earth endure forever; their farthest reach seems immeasurably distant, while the span allotted to human life is painfully brief. To lodge a limited life in an infinite cosmos is no different from a horse flashing through a doorway. Anyone who cannot keep the mind at ease and nurture longevity has not truly penetrated the Great Dao.

Whatever Kong Qiu (Confucius) has to say, I have cast it all aside. Be off—hurry home—and speak no more! Your doctrines are wildly off course and meanly shallow: trickery, ornament, and sham. They cannot preserve authentic nature—what is there worth discussing?

Commentary: “Qi” means urgently, in haste. “Kuangkuang” describes one who has lost true nature and acts abnormally; “jiji” means shallow and inadequate. The traces left by sages and the conduct of benevolence and righteousness are like a brush shelter thrown up for a night, or like the straw dog (a grass effigy used in sacrifice and discarded once the rite is done). Clutch them and refuse to let go, and you only heap harm upon yourself. These shallow, nature-losing pretenses—what is there in them worth talking about?

Confucius bowed again, hurried out the door, mounted his carriage, and took the reins—but three times he could not steady himself. His sight went blank; he could see nothing. His face was the color of dead ash. He leaned on the carriage crossbar with bowed head, barely able to draw breath.

Commentary: The “shi” is the horizontal bar at the front of the carriage; the rider may lean on it. When Robber Zhi spoke, his force was overwhelming; Confucius was so shaken that he came to this pass.

Confucius returned to the east gate of Lu and happened upon Liuxia Ji. Liuxia Ji said, “I have not seen you for some days, and your carriage and horses do not look as though you have been far. Surely you did not go to see Robber Zhi?”

Confucius looked up to heaven and sighed deeply. “Indeed I did.”

Commentary: “Wei” means “not”; “ran” means “thus, in this way.”

Liuxia Ji asked, “Then Robber Zhi did not go against your wishes—just as I said before?” Confucius answered, “He did.”

Commentary: “Just as I said before” refers to Liuxia Ji’s warning at the opening of this chapter: if you thwart Robber Zhi’s intent, he will fly into a rage. Confucius’s reply confirms that events unfolded exactly as Liuxia Ji had foretold.

Confucius said, “I have been like a man with no illness who burns moxa on himself anyway—or like one who rushes to stroke a tiger’s head and braid its whiskers, coming within a hair’s breadth of being devoured!”

This chapter uses the episode to show: if you align with what the multitude wants, and let them remove whatever they wish removed, then even a ruler like King Zhou can be overthrown; if you ignore the multitude and act only from yourself, then you cannot master even one like Robber Zhi.

Commentary: “Ji” means nearly, on the verge of. Stroking a tiger’s head and braiding its whiskers is courting the beast at point-blank range—almost certain to be eaten. Confucius’s mission to admonish Robber Zhi carried the same kind of peril. As for the chapter’s larger aim, it is to reject the traces of sages and to ridicule…

Zizhang asked Man Goude for guidance: “Why not practice benevolence and righteousness (renyi)?”

The annotation explains that Zizhang was a disciple of Confucius, surname Zhuansun, personal name Shi, and courtesy name Zizhang. Man Goude is a fictitious name, meaning someone who greedily seeks to satisfy desire. Zizhang urged him to give up chasing fame and gain and to practice benevolence and righteousness instead.

Man Goude replied: “If you do not practice benevolence and righteousness, you will not win others’ trust; without trust, you will not be put in office; without office, there is no benefit. So when you look at reputation and reckon profit, you can see that benevolence and righteousness really are worth doing.”

The annotation adds: without practicing benevolence and righteousness, one is not trusted; without trust, there is no post or duty, and thus no salary. Practicing benevolence and righteousness brings reputation, and reputation brings benefit. Measured by fame and gain, benevolence and righteousness are plainly good and ought to be done.

Zizhang went on: “If you set aside fame and profit and turn inward to examine yourself, can a scholar establish himself in the world for even a single day without practicing benevolence and righteousness?”

Man Goude said: “Those without shame grow rich; those who talk much and are skilled at winning trust become prominent. The greatest sources of reputation and profit probably lie in shamelessness and skill at winning trust. So when you observe reputation and calculate benefit, you see that being good at winning trust is indeed worth doing.”

The annotation says that “much trust” (duo xin) here means being eloquent and argumentative. The modest and yielding often stay poor, while the shameless, greedy, and cruel grow wealthy; the humble and yielding sink low, while those who boast and speak well rise high. Thus, from the angle of fame and profit, skill in speech is a main road to both.

Zizhang said again: “If you abandon fame and profit and return inward, should a scholar in his conduct not hold fast to his innate nature?”

The annotation explains that “hold” (bao) means to keep and uphold, and “Heaven” (tian) means one’s natural endowment. A practitioner who can renounce fame and profit may seem to go against worldly opinion, yet by guarding innate simplicity he aligns with the empty, still, and abstruse Dao.

Zizhang said: “In the past, Jie and Zhou were honored as Sons of Heaven and possessed the wealth of the realm. Today, if you told someone who hoards wealth, ‘You act like Jie and Zhou,’ he would look ashamed yet inwardly resent it. Such people are exactly what petty men despise. Confucius and Mozi, by contrast, were as poor as ordinary folk. Nowadays, if one said to a minister…”

The interlocutor (here, the one raising the challenge) said: “If you compare your own conduct to that of Zhongni (Confucius) and Mozi, your expression changes and you feel you fall far short of them; if you compare yourself to a scholar-official, you genuinely regard the scholar as worthy.”

The commentary explains: Jie, Zhou, Confucius, and Mozi were all mentioned earlier. “Zang” refers to zanghuo, household servants; “ju” refers to lanqie, meaning thieves and petty villains. To liken Confucius to a servant shames a person into refusal; to liken oneself to a chief minister or a commoner makes one change countenance, or feel pleased and reassured. Thus one can see that what people value is conduct, not status.

Therefore, occupying the throne of Son of Heaven does not necessarily mean being noble, and being destitute and a commoner does not necessarily mean being base. The distinction between noble and base lies in whether conduct is good or bad.

The commentary says: Here the earlier meaning is explained again.

Man Goude said: “Small thieves get arrested; great thieves become feudal lords—and feudal lords’ households still have men of righteousness. In the past, Duke Huan of Qi, named Xiaobai, killed his elder brother and took his sister-in-law as wife, yet Guan Zhong served him as minister; Tian Chengzi Chang murdered his ruler and seized the state, yet Confucius accepted gifts from him. In words, people call such things base; in actual conduct, they go on to assist and serve such men. Does this not show that what is said and what is done conflict in the heart—is it not contradictory?”

The commentary says: “Bei” means to violate; “fu” means to clash. Duke Huan of Qi was named Xiaobai; he killed his elder brother Zijiu and took in his sister-in-law. The worthy minister Guan Zhong assisted him, and in the end the feudal lords met in alliance many times and he set the realm in order. Tian Chengzi once killed Duke Jian of Qi; Confucius bathed, changed clothes, and went to court, accepting the silks Tian Chengzi sent. Killing one’s brother and taking one’s sister-in-law, and murdering one’s lord to usurp the state, are among the gravest breaches of human relations—yet Guan Zhong still served Duke Huan as minister, and Confucius still accepted Tian Chengzi’s gifts. In speech people call them base; in action they still work for them. Is this not inner warfare and words running opposite to deeds?

Hence the book says: “Who is good and who is bad? The successful are ranked first; the unsuccessful are placed last.”

The commentary says: “The successful are ranked first” means they are honored; “the unsuccessful are placed last” means they are criticized and slandered. Seen this way, people judge only success or failure—how would they still care about conduct? Since conduct is not the standard, one cannot know who truly embodies good and bad. The book cited was lost in the burning of books; no copy survives today.

Zizhang said: “If people do not heed conduct, then there is no rule for closeness and distance in relationships, no basis for noble and base, and no order between elder and younger. On what grounds would the Five Categories and Six Positions be distinguished?”

The commentary says: “Qi” means kin; “lun” means order. “Five Categories” means ancestor, father, self, son, and grandson; some say the Five Phases of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, together with the five constants of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. The original text breaks off here.

What is called “De” (Virtue/Power) shows itself in the six kinds of relationship—ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife—and thus in the bonds of parent and child, elder and younger sibling, spouses, and offspring. Zi Zhang said: If one does not practice the way of benevolence and righteousness, there will be no standard between those who are close and those who are distant, no duty between high and low, and no order between elder and younger; the five ethical relationships and the six positional roles cannot be distinguished at all.

Man Gou De said: “Yao deposed his eldest son, and Shun banished his younger brother born of the same mother—was there any distinction of close and distant kin between them?”

The commentary explains: Yao removed his eldest son Dan Zhu from succession and did not let him inherit the position of Son of Heaven; this is also described as “killing.” Shun enfeoffed his younger brother Xiang, born of the same mother, at Youbi, had officials of the realm govern his fief, and collected tribute from it—hence it is said that he “banished” Xiang. Deposing a son and sending away a younger brother—where was room for affection according to kinship?

“Shang Tang exiled Jie of Xia, and King Wu of Zhou killed King Zhou of Shang—was there any duty between superior and inferior?”

The commentary explains: Shang Tang exiled Jie of Xia to Nan Chao, and King Wu of Zhou killed King Zhou of Shang at Ji commandery. Where, then, was the duty between ruler and subject, superior and inferior?

“King Ji became the legitimate heir, yet the Duke of Zhou killed his elder brother—was there any order between elder and younger?”

The commentary explains: King Ji was a son by a concubine of King Tai of Zhou, named Ji Li and father of King Wen of Zhou. Taibo and Zhong Yong yielded the throne and did not succeed, so the younger Ji Li became the legitimate heir. The Duke of Zhou’s elder brothers Guan Shu and Cai Shu were put to death even after lamenting—hence it is said the Duke of Zhou “killed his elder brother.” Setting aside the legitimate son to install a son by a concubine and killing an elder brother—could one still speak of order between superior and inferior, elder and younger?

Confucian rhetoric is hypocritical, while Mohists preach universal love; if that is so, how can the five relationships and six roles be kept apart?

The commentary explains: Confucians constantly invoke status and role; Mohists urge loving all equally without partiality. Seen in this light, what difference remains among the five relationships and six positions?

“Moreover, Zi Zhang, what you pursue is fame and what I pursue is profit. Fame and profit alike miss the truth of things and cannot let one see clearly the great Dao.”

The commentary explains: “Jian” means to discern clearly. In his heart Zi Zhang seeks reputation; Man Gou De seeks gain. Neither path is the real nature of things; since both violate the fundamental principle, how could either clarify the subtle great Dao?

“I once discussed this with you in the presence of Wu Yue: the petty person hustles for money, the gentleman hustles for reputation. Though what they chase differs, both alter their original nature; they even abandon what they ought to do and run after what they ought not—on that point the two are the same.”

The commentary explains: “Song” means to discuss; “yue” refers to covenant or agreement. “Abandoning what one ought to do” means laying aside what one should properly perform and turning to pursue external things instead. One who scrambles for profit is called a petty person; one who scrambles for fame is called a gentleman. The fame and profit they pursue differ, yet both are equally driven.

When all people can together discuss the subtle principle and accord with the way of wuwei (non-action), and form deep bonds free of estrangement, then:

For wuwei, in the case of petty people it means turning outward to chase things and going against innate nature; for the noble person it means following the pattern of nature.

Commentary: The noble person neither chases profit nor covets fame, and so can accord with innate nature, return to the root, and unite with the way of nature.

Whether matters seem bent or straight, take the way of Heaven as the standard, observe the four quarters, and advance or withdraw as circumstances shift.

Commentary: Bent and straight can each support the other. Do not cling to a fixed distinction between bent and straight; accord with the way of nature, observe conditions in the four directions, and wax or wane with the four seasons.

Whether matters seem right or wrong, hold to the supple, responsive pivot in handling affairs, so that mind and the Dao move freely to and fro.

Commentary: “To linger and turn” means to shift and come and go. “The round pivot” is like the center of a ring. Holding to the center of the ring, one can meet right and wrong; employing the mind’s power to transform on its own, one can fulfill one’s intent. Thus one joins the principle of empty stillness and unobstructed passage, with change without limit.

Do not arbitrarily alter your resolve to imitate the traces of the sages, and do not deliberately complete a path of benevolence and righteousness—or you will lose what you were meant to do.

Commentary: “What one does” here means human true nature. Do not change your resolve to copy the conduct of sages; do not fix your mind on mastering a doctrine of benevolence and righteousness. Abandoning oneself to emulate others is to lose innate nature.

Do not rush after wealth and rank, and do not strive desperately for success—or you will cast aside innate nature.

Commentary: Do not single-mindedly run after wealth and honor, and do not cling to chasing achievement and fame. If you insist on rushing and chasing, you turn against the nature Heaven gave you.

Bì Gān had his heart cut out and Wǔ Zǐxū had his eyes gouged out—calamities brought by loyalty.

Commentary: Bì Gān remonstrated loyally with King Zhòu of Shāng; the king, having heard that a sage’s heart has nine openings, cut open Bì Gān’s chest to look. Wǔ Zǐxū warned King Fūchā of Wú, who killed him. Before death Wǔ Zǐxū said he would gouge out his eyes and hang them on the east gate of the Wú capital to watch Yuè destroy Wú. Such men were utterly loyal yet suffered for it.

Zhí Gōng stepped forward to prove his father stole a sheep; Wěi Shēng kept his appointment and drowned clinging to a bridge pillar—calamities brought by keeping faith.

Commentary: Zhí Gōng’s father stole a sheep, yet Zhí Gōng came forward to prove his father guilty. Wěi Shēng had a tryst with a woman; she did not come, but he still waited holding the bridge pillar and drowned when the water rose. These are cases of holding to covenant and meeting disaster.

Bào Jiāo chose to stand until he withered on the tree; Shēn Shēng did not speak in his own defense—calamities brought by integrity.

Commentary: Bào Jiāo was upright and pure; after Zǐ Gòng mocked him, he embraced a tree and stood until he died. Shēn Shēng was Prince Shēn of Jìn, caught in the Lí Jì turmoil; falsely accused, he did not plead for himself and hanged himself.

Kǒngzǐ would not see his mother; Kuāngzǐ would not see his father—examples of acting on righteousness yet missing the mark.

Commentary: (The text signals these as cases where rigid “rightness” violates deeper bonds; the commentary line in the source ends here without further gloss on this pair.)

Confucius was obsessed with the deeds of the sage: he traveled through many states seeking office, and when his mother was dying he did not return to see her. Kuangzi, whose given name was Zhang, was a man of Qi. He admonished his father, but his father would not listen and instead grew to dislike him, so he left home and wandered elsewhere. He too was obsessed with benevolence and righteousness and studied with such single-minded devotion that he forgot to go home; when his father was dying, he was not at his side either. These are all failures brought on by being too rigidly attached to and drowned in benevolence and righteousness.

Such stories were handed down from earlier ages and are often retold in later times. People think that as a scholar one ought to straighten one’s words and make one’s conduct match them; yet doing so often brings disaster and trouble.

Note: This chapter says that overvaluing displayed integrity makes conduct artificial, and overhonoring scholars makes scholars hypocritical. Therefore one should lighten the weight given to showy conduct and lower the esteem in which scholars are held, so as to preserve inner authenticity. Only then does conduct become truly noble and the scholar’s character truly worthy of respect.

Commentary: From Bian He downward to the people above Kuangzi, all were famed for loyalty, trustworthiness, integrity, and uprightness, yet they met with calamity. These accounts are transmitted from antiquity and discussed in later ages. Thus loyal subjects and honest, trustworthy people who straighten their words to admonish their rulers and serve their lords with full devotion often cannot escape trouble and disaster. Those who seek the Dao should take this deeply to heart and be cautious.

Wuzu asked Zhihe: “People living in the world ultimately have none who do not seek fame and chase profit. Once a man is rich, others flock to him; when they flock to him, they become humble and deferential toward him; when others are humble and deferential, he is honored. Being honored by the multitude is the way to long life, bodily ease, and a joyful mind. Yet you alone seem to have no such intent—is it because you understand contentment and therefore do not pursue it? Or do you understand in your mind but lack the strength to act on it? Or do you hold to the right path and never forget it?”

Commentary: Wuzu means one who craves without end and never knows when he has enough; Zhihe means one who realizes the way of central harmony and keeps clear of corruption. Here a dialogue is imagined to show the fortune and misfortune that greed and integrity each bring. Wuzu says: People in the world ultimately have none who do not seek reputation and pursue profit and office. When one man is rich, the crowd gathers around him; when the crowd gathers, they treat him humbly and honor him. Gaining the crowd’s deference and honor, he can satisfy his wishes and accord with his nature, and his body is healthy and long-lived. Do you alone not wish to crave wealth and rank? Is it because you know contentment that you do not seek them? Or do you understand this principle in your mind but cannot act on it, so you set your will on the right principle, never forget it, and thereby dispel craving without chasing deviant desires?

Zhihe said: “This man of today thinks that he and I were born in the same age and the same place…”

Those who lived with him even took themselves to be people who had risen above the world and surpassed ordinary humanity. That only shows how domineering and benighted he was, with no real judgment of his own.

Commentary: This passage speaks of the wealthy and powerful. Worldly people are ignorant yet greedy for gain; their minds run the same way as those of the great and they dwell in the same places as the rich, yet they still fancy themselves above the vulgar and better than others—and all the more so when they already enjoy wealth and rank. These are precisely the stubborn and foolish who lack inner conviction: they do not follow the right path, do not understand how past and present change, and do not tell right from wrong; they only chase what society chases, drifting with the current and shifting without end. How could such people see where fortune and misfortune will finally lead?

They turn away from what matters most in the world and cast aside what is most noble, yet treat that very conduct as their achievement. Seen in this light, when they talk of methods for long life, nurturing the body, and pleasing the mind, are they not far from the right way?

Commentary: Life is what matters most; the Dao is what is most noble. People who follow the crowd abandon life and turn their backs on the great Way; what they do is usually just that—so they are far from the path of lasting life.

Grief and anguish on the one hand, ease and delight on the other, cannot reveal the true state of the body; shock, fear, joy, and pleasure cannot reveal the true state of the mind.

Commentary: “Can da” means sorrow; “tian yu” means pleasure. Grief, joy, delight, and fear are all matters outside the self—they cannot illuminate the sage’s nature or shine deeply into the heart; yet the foolish chase these feelings as if they could.

They only know how to act, and do not know where action comes from. Therefore, even if one is honored as Son of Heaven and owns all under heaven, one still cannot escape worry and fear.

Commentary: “Wei wei” means busying oneself with deliberate action; “suo yi wei” means the root that action depends on—that is, wuwei (non-action). To know only the hustle of purposeful doing, without knowing that such doing should spring from non-action—such a person, however exalted in ruling the realm and however rich in holding the four seas, still cannot escape alarm and the rest of life’s anxieties.

Wu Zu said: “Wealth is, for human beings, advantageous in every way. To enjoy the finest things and hold power to the limit—something the consummate person cannot match and the worthy cannot reach.”

Commentary: “Qiong” means to exhaust or reach the utmost. To enjoy all the world’s delights and wield human power to the full—perhaps only the rich and powerful can do that. So even those of supreme virtue and wise sages cannot far outstrip them.

Relying on others’ courage and strength to display one’s own imposing might, and wielding others’ cleverness as one’s own…

When a person’s character is clearly seen, we find that some people, though they do not rule a state, are honored like a ruler and a father.

The explanation says: Many dependents often gather around the wealthy and powerful. The brave guard him, the clever devise plans for him, and the virtuous assist him. Though he does not govern a state, he commands an authority akin to that of a ruler and a father. These people gather around him because of the benefits his wealth can offer.

Beautiful sounds, pleasing sights, delicious foods, and power attract people without any need for later instruction. By nature, people enjoy listening to pleasing sounds, looking at beautiful colors, and tasting delicious flavors. Power and status satisfy the heart and bring pleasure. None of this needs to be taught: people naturally take pleasure in it, and their bodies feel at ease without following any prescribed rites or ceremonies. Such is human nature.

What we desire or dislike, what we avoid or pursue—none of this requires a teacher. It is innate. Even if everyone under Heaven opposed me, who could persuade me to change in this regard?

The explanation says: People pursue what they desire and avoid what they dislike. These are common feelings among people and all living things; no one waits to be taught by a teacher before acting on them. So even if everyone under Heaven thought this wrong, who could argue on this point alone and persuade everyone otherwise?

Those who understand how to bring things into harmony know how the wise act: they act in accordance with the people’s wishes, so that the people do not depart from their own order. Their hearts are content, and they do not contend with others. Since they have nothing they must carry out, they do not force anything.

The explanation says: The wise meet the things around them with an open mind and act in accordance with how things are. They make the people’s wishes their own, so the people are willing to follow them and do not depart from their order. Their hearts are content, so they do not contend. Since they have no particular course of action they insist on carrying out, they seek nothing—and do not regard this as something they are deliberately doing.

Because they feel they have too little, some compete for things in every direction without realizing they are greedy. Because they feel they already have more than enough, others yield and give up all under Heaven without thinking themselves virtuous.

The explanation says: “In every direction” means in all four quarters. Sages and ordinary people differ in their greed and their virtue. Some roam in every direction, competing for things everywhere, even racing across all under Heaven, without feeling that they are insatiable. Others give up a state with ten thousand chariots—a great feudal state—and relinquish the imperial throne, yet do not consider themselves virtuous or frugal.

The true nature of virtue and greed is not imposed on people by external things. It becomes clear when each person looks inward and examines themselves. People differ in the nature they receive and in the standards by which they measure things.

The explanation says: “To observe” means to examine clearly. Whether someone is truly virtuous or greedy is not determined by pressure from external things; it must be discerned by looking inward. Different people receive different natures and measure things by different standards.

Even when he holds the Son of Heaven’s position, he does not use his status to treat others with contempt. Even when he possesses all under Heaven, he does not use his wealth to toy with others. He weighs the troubles these things bring and considers how they might turn around and harm his own nature. He yields them and refuses to accept them, not to win a reputation or praise.

Not treating exalted rank as something to be proud of, and not treating money as a tool for pleasure—they do so because they see that such things bring calamity, anxiety, and injury, and damage one’s true nature. That is why they decline the imperial throne and refuse to accept it, not in order to win a reputation.

When Yao and Shun became emperors, they were able to bring the world to harmony and peace. This was not because they deliberately pursued the name of benevolence (ren), but because they would not let splendid things harm life. Shan Juan and Xu You (legendary recluses) were offered the throne yet would not take it; this was not a show of false modesty, but a refusal to let worldly affairs injure themselves. Such people take what benefits them and shun what harms them. When the world praises them as worthy, one may say they truly had that quality. They acted thus not to court fame.

Commentary: Yong means harmony. Tang Yao and Yu Shun governed the world and brought peace to the four quarters—not to display kindness on purpose, but so that splendid things would not harm life. Shan Juan and Xu You were offered the throne in abdication yet declined—not to strike a pose of humility, but because they would not let mundane business harm themselves. They sought what favored long life and avoided the harm that striving for the throne might bring. When the world calls them able, one can only say they truly had the mind to avoid harm; they did not mean to borrow that for reputation.

Wu Zu said: “If one must chase reputation, one torments the body and cuts off sweet enjoyments, living in hardship while deliberately nurturing life. To live like that is no better than someone long ill, deeply trapped in distress, who still does not die.”

Commentary: If the heart is set only on building reputation, one torments the body, abstains from fine food, lives in want, and still carefully guards life—that differs little from long sickness and dire straits without death. Even alive, it is like living a dead man’s life. This is Wu Zu’s reply to Zhi He.

Zhi He said: “Moderate balance is blessing; going past the limit invites calamity—most things are so; wealth invites calamity above all.”

Commentary: Keeping to the mean brings good fortune; exceeding the limit brings disaster—that is the way of nature. Most things follow this, and the harm from wealth is especially grave.

Today the wealthy greedily fill their ears with the sounds of bells, drums, pipes, and flutes; they satisfy their mouths with the taste of meat and wine. Sensual delights churn the mind until one forgets one’s proper calling—this may be called confusion.

Commentary: Qian means contentment and ease; guan yue are wind instruments such as flutes and pipes. Affluent households indulge desire and drink to excess; their ears are stuffed with pentatonic tones and their thoughts are pulled and scattered by all manner of things, until they grow dim and no longer notice their own affairs. Is that not confusion?

They sink in stirring breath (qi), as if carrying a heavy load up a height—one may call that extreme toil.

When greed runs rampant, one grows worn out and trapped. The heart feels blocked, sunk in desire, restless and ill at ease—as if climbing a slope with a heavy load on one’s back, utterly spent. Is that not hardship and entrapment?

One grasps after wealth to gratify oneself and chases power until one’s vital energy is drained. In quiet solitude, body and mind turn dull and heavy; when the body feels a moment’s relief, vexation follows again. Troubled whether still or in motion—is that not a kind of illness?

One amasses riches and pursues gain until desire stands like a wall, yet fails to avoid disaster; though the heart is troubled, one still will not let go—is that not shame?

Wealth piles up without real use, yet the mind still clings; worry fills the heart while one keeps seeking more—is that not sorrow?

At home one fears thieves will come for one’s goods; abroad one dreads robbers. One walls in the whole house, builds high barriers and barred windows—yet even then one is too afraid to walk alone. Living in such constant alarm—is that not fear?

These six—disorder, hardship and entrapment, illness, shame, sorrow, and fear—are among the worst harms under heaven. People often forget them and do not notice; only when calamity strikes, life is in peril, and wealth is gone do they wish to return to the plain, desire-free life of the day before—and by then it is too late.

So looking to reputation brings no true satisfaction; chasing profit does not always succeed. To spend mind and body entirely on such rivalry—is that not delusion?

This chapter explains that only those who know contentment can remain content.

In the commentary, liao (繚) means to be wound or entangled. Once the great thief has come, the body is no longer one’s own; at that point, what room is left for fame and profit? Yet ordinary people often invert what matters and what does not: the heart stays bound to fame and profit, and the urge to compete and grasp is hard to break. Seen this way, is that not deeply confused?