Gymnastics 155
externally. In this way we develop within and without, the fine and the
gross, and with penetrating understanding, we realize the work of the
wise men and sages. Wisdom and knowledge, sagehood and immortal-
ity, these are what we mean by fulfilling our intrinsic nature and
establishing life. Herein lies the perfection of spirit and divine transfor-
mation. The way of heaven and the way of humanity is simple sincerity.^58The cosmological vocabulary of mystical union was joined by the Daoist language
of immortality. At least some Qing martial artists employed the terminology of
Daoist “inner alchemy” (neidan) in their military treatises. They described martial
strength as the by-product of an inner elixir leading to eternal life. Chang Nai-
zhou went as far as claiming that “inner alchemy” was the foundation of martial
training, following the Daoist scheme of three stages in the smelting of the inner
elixir: the first stage of refining essence (jing) and transmuting it into breath (qi),
the second stage of refining breath and transmuting it into spirit (shen), and the
third stage of refining spirit and returning it to the primordial void (xu). T he
same stages are outlined in at least some manuals of Xingyi Quan.^59
Before we examine two texts that illustrate the impact of gymnastics on the
late imperial martial arts, a qualifying comment is in order. I have argued that
the foundations of late imperial bare-handed styles such as Shaolin Quan, Taiji
Quan, and Xingyi Quan were laid during the late Ming and the early Qing by the
integration of Ming hand combat with an ancient gymnastic tradition that had
largely evolved within a Daoist context. This is not to say, however, that aspects ei-
ther of daoyin gymnastics or of cosmological thought did not figure in some fight-
ing techniques as early as ancient times. A survey of classical Chinese warfare
goes beyond the scope of this study. Fencing, however, merits a brief mention.
Scholars have pointed out the significance of the sword in Daoist ritual.
As early as the first centuries CE, Daoist priests ascribed magic powers to the
blades they employed as liturgical implements. Considered the incarnations
of dragons, swords could fly, and they were believed to be efficacious against
water creatures; Ge Hong (282–343) recommended the dagger as a talisman
against dragons, crocodiles, and the like.^60 The sword’s role in exorcistic rit-
uals was matched by the elaborate ceremonies that accompanied its produc-
tion. The forging of a divine blade was conducted according to intricate
ritual rules resembling those that surrounded the concoction of the elixir.
Precious swords, in addition, figured in the relations between priest and
ruler. The Shangqing patriarch Sima Chengzhen (647–735) presented his
patron, the Tang emperor Xuanzong, with thirteen divine swords, each en-
graved with the name of a different deity.^61
To this day, sword dances are an integral element of Daoist ritual. Their
primary goal is exorcistic. Demon-expelling swordplay purifies the altar in the
fundamental Daoist rite of offering (jiao). The sword dance follows a minutely
prescribed choreography, which correlates the priest’s steps with cosmic pow-
ers. Wielding his magic weapon, the priest pronounces: