Title: Gems of Chinese Literature: Prose
Author: Herbert A Giles
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Title: Gems of Chinese Literature: Prose
Author: Herbert A Giles
First Published 1883.
Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz
and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com
GEMS OF CHINESE LITERATURE
BY
HERBERT A. GILES, Hon. LL.D. (Aberdeen)
Professor of Chinese in the University of Cambridge
What work nobler than transplanting foreign thought?
--Carlyle.
PREPARER'S NOTE
This text was typed up from the "revised and greatly enlarged" 2nd
edition, published in 1923 by Kelly & Walsh, Ltd., Shanghai, also
Hongkong--Singapore--Yokohama--Hankow. The book consists of this
prose volume and the companion work on verse bound together.
PREFACE
A second edition of this book has long been overdue, blocked, like
many other enterprises, by the war. Its aim will be found fully set
forth in the extract, given below, from the preface to the first
edition. That edition has been carefully revised, and by many
additional translations has been doubled in size and brought down to
the present day. Short biographical notices will now be found with all
the authors quoted, whose names have further been given in an English-
Chinese index, as a means of easy identification by students. Poems
have been omitted; they are to appear in a companion volume.
Herbert A. Giles
December, 1922.
EXTRACT FROM PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION
The present volume is a venture in a new direction. English readers
will search in vain for any work leading to an acquaintanceship,
however slight, with the general literature of China. Dr. Legge's
colossal labours have indeed placed the canonical books of
Confucianism within easy reach of the curious; but the immense bulk of
Chinese authorship is still virgin soil and remains to be efficiently
explored.
I have therefore ventured to offer an instalment of short extracts
from the works of the most famous writers of all ages, upon which time
has set an approving seal. These are chronologically arranged, and
cover a period extending from 550 B.C. to A.D. 1650--two thousand two
hundred years. Short biographical and dynastic notices will be found
scattered through the volume in their proper places; also such brief
foot-notes as seemed to me necessary to the occasion.
"Untold treasures," says Professor G. von der Gabelentz, "lie hidden
in the rich lodes of Chinese literature." Now without committing
myself to exaggeration or misdirection as to the practical value of
these treasures, I dare assert that the old pride, arrogance, and
exclusiveness of the Chinese are readily intelligible to any one who
has faithfully examined the literature of China and hung over the
burning words of her great writers. I do not flatter myself that all
the extracts given will be of equal interest to all readers. I have
not catered for any particular taste, but have striven to supply a
small handbook of Chinese literature, as complete as circumstances
would permit.
In the process of translation I have kept verbal accuracy steadily in
view, so that the work may be available to students of Chinese in one
sense as a key. But with due regard to the requirements of a general
public, impatient of long strings of unpronounceable names and of
allusions which for the most part would be shorn of all meaning and
point, I have eliminated these, wherever it was possible to do so
without obscuring or otherwise interfering with the leading idea in
the text. I have also been compelled sometimes to expand and sometimes
to compress;--on the one hand, by an extreme grammatical terseness,
intelligible enough in the original; on the other, by a redundancy of
expression, which, while offering wide scope for literary /tours de
force/ (compare Psalm cxix.), contrasts strangely with the verbal
condensation aforesaid. It must however always be borne in mind that
translators are but traitors at the best, and that translations may be
moonlight and water while the originals are sunlight and wine.
H. A. G.
16th October, 1883.
NOTE ON CHINESE LITERATURE
THE CHOU AND CH`IN DYNASTIES: 550-200 B.C.
The texts of this period may be described as rude and rugged in style,
but full of vigorous expression, and unmatched in dramatic power. Many
scenes in the /Tso Chuan/ are brought as vividly before the mind of
the reader as are the incidents of the /Iliad/ and /Odyssey/.
Unfortunately, such excellences depend upon something beyond the reach
of a translator, who has to be content with a barely approximate
result.
In poetry, excluding the /Odes/, we have the beautiful but in some
cases terribly obscure /Rhapsodies/, chiefly from the pen of CH`Ü
P`ING, who might not inaptly be compared with PINDAR in diction and
wealth of words. In philosophy, the subtle speculations of MO TI, YANG
CHU, and CHUANG TZU, the great exponent of the doctrines enunciated by
LAO TZU, would beyond all doubt have commanded a hearing in the
contemporary schools of Greece.
THE HAN DYNASTY: 200 B.C. TO A.D. 200.
The literature of the Hans reflects the stateliness of the age. It is
further distinguished by a tone of practical common sense, strikingly
and logically expressed. The meanings of words were still however by
no means accurately fixed, neither had the written language reached
that degree of stylistic polish it was ultimately destined to acquire.
Consequently, the scrupulous translator often finds himself involved
in a maze of impossible collocations, from which he has to extricate
himself by the clue of logic alone. Yet it was under such conditions
that SSU-MA CH`IEN--truly named the Herodotus of China--committed to
writing his most splendid history, and CH`AO TS`O drew faithful
conclusions from long and elaborately worded premises.
The poetry of the period may be dismissed as wanting in that essential
which differentiates poetry from didactic verse. The philosophers of
the day occupied themselves chiefly in editing and commenting upon the
sacred books. Their interpretations were duly accepted for many
centuries until at length doomed to pale in the flood of a brighter
light. (See /Chu Hsi/.) This was also the age of forgery on a grand
scale, extending even to the end of the 3rd century A.D. To the bulk
of forgers of this time we are probably indebted for the bulk of the
/Tao Tê Ching/, the work of LIEH TZU, many chapters of CHUANG TZU,
etc.
THE SIX DYNASTIES: A.D. 200-600.
This period was virtually an interregnum, an age of literary
stagnation. Though covering no fewer than four centuries, it produced
but one really great writer, in consequence, probably, of the
disturbed and unsatisfactory state of public affairs, so unfavourable
to the development of literary talent. It was during these years that
Buddhism took the firm grip upon the religious susceptibilities of the
Chinese people which it holds at the present day.
THE T`ANG DYNASTY: A.D. 600-900.
With the final establishment of the above dynasty authorship rapidly
revived. It was the epoch of glittering poetry (untranslatable,
alas!), of satire, of invective, of irony, and of opposition to the
strange and fascinating creed of Buddha. Imagination began to come
more freely into play, and the language to flow more easily and more
musically, as though responsive to the demands of art.
THE SUNG DYNASTY: A.D. 900-1200.
This was admittedly the Elizabethan age of Chinese literature. More
great writers in all branches flourished under this than under any
other dynasty before or since. Their styles are massive and grand,
without grammatical flaw, exquisitely cadenced, and thrilling the
reader with an inexpressible thrill. They exhibit to perfection what
the Rev. ARTHUR SMITH, a most accurate writer on Chinese topics, calls
"an indescribable loftiness of style, which resembles expression in
music."
The poetry of the age is second only to that of the T`angs. The
historians rank with, but after, their famous predecessor of the Han
dynasty. But CHU HSI swept away the existing interpretations of
Confucianism, and established his own for ever.
THE YUAN AND MING DYNASTIES: A.D. 1200-1644.
Under the Yuan (Mongol) and Ming dynasties, literary execution
remained stationary as regards accuracy of structure and balance of
sentences. Imaginative power became visibly weaker, to decline later
on to a still lower level of rule-and-line mediocrity. These two
dynasties have been bracketed together; partly because it is
impossible to say exactly when the Mongol dynasty either began or
ended, and partly because the dates so far assigned have been more
nominal than exact. Further, the Mongols, detested aliens, held sway
for such a comparatively short period that they hardly left any
characteristic mark on the face of Chinese literature.
THE CH`ING (MANCHU) DYNASTY: A.D. 1644-1912.
The first edition of this book ended with the collapse of the Ming
dynasty and the establishment of Manchu rule. I then contented myself
by saying that the literature of the present dynasty has hardly passed
beyond the limits of essayism and artificial verse. The book-market is
flooded with collections of essays and poems on themes chosen from the
sacred books, logically worded and correctly constructed, but wanting
in the chief feature of the work of genius--originality of thought.
Still from a literary point of view, there have been not a few elegant
composes both of poetry and of prose. Chief among these we may reckon
LAN LU-CHOU, author of the /Whole Duty of Woman/, and of a vast number
of essays on a variety of subjects; also TSENG KUO-FAN, the hero of
the T`ai-p`ing rebellion, and father of the present Ambassador to
Western Powers. As an actual specimen of the best style of modern
composition, I may draw the reader's attention to the Chinese preface,
in /cursiv-schrift/, which adorns the cover of the first edition of
this book. It was very kindly written for me by a rising young
graduate of Foochow, named NIEN YUN-TING, through the medium of my
friend, Mr. KU HUNG-MING (M.A., Edinburgh), to whose wide acquaintance
with the literatures and philosophies of China, England, France,
Germany, and Ancient Greece and Rome, I am indebted for many luminous
suggestions. This preface runs as follows:--
"For sixteen years past I have been a diligent student of the language
and literature of the Chinese people. I have now attempted to render
into the English tongue specimens of their standard authors of past
ages, in the hope that my countrymen may thereby learn something of
the literary achievements of a great empire, whose inhabitants held
learning in high esteem when our own painted forefathers were running
naked and houseless in the woods and living on berries and raw
meat."[1]
[1] "My poor friend, the young master of arts who indited the preface
for your /Gems/, is dead, and has not left his peer."--Letter of
12th August 1883.
In this second edition I have included extracts from the two writers
mentioned above, as well as others from the pens of distinguished men
of this dynasty, down to quite recent times, concluding with specimens
of the matter and style of a brilliant Republican author and statesman
who is still working for his country's good. It is usual to make light
of Manchu scholarship; perhaps because of the ease with which they
were allowed to obtain the coveted degrees. I have not been able to
insert any specimen of Manchu style or imagination in the following
collection; it should always be remembered, however, that the two
Emperors, K`ANG HSI and CHIEN LUNG, by their production of most
important works of reference,--the standard lexicon of the Chinese
language, more than one huge encyclopædia, an enormous dictionary of
literary phraseology of all ages, new editions of classical and
historical works, etc., etc.--have placed Chinese scholars, native and
foreign, under a deeper obligation than all the other Emperors of
China put together.
GEMS OF CHINESE LITERATURE
PROSE
THE DUKE OF CHOU
Died 1105 B.C.
The following is not a translation; it is not even an ordinary
paraphrase. It is an attempt to give the spirit of an ancient
document by picking out the more interesting sentences and
stringing them together, omitting such portions as would require
long explanations and be wearisome to the general reader. Dr.
Legge has given in his Chinese Classics, vol. III, p. 399, a full
translation with copious notes. It only remains to add that the
Duke of Chou was a younger son of King Wên, the founder and
posthumously first ruler of China under the feudal system which
lasted for eight hundred years; and that this edict was issued by
order of the Duke's elder brother and second actual sovereign,
reigning as King Ch`êng.
AGAINST DRUNKENNESS
Thus saith the King:--"Make known these important commands in the
State of Mei.
"When our great and good father, King Wên, laid the foundations of our
empire in the west, daily and nightly he warned his officials, saying,
'For sacrifice you may use wine.' And whenever God has favoured the
people, it has been because wine was in use only at the great
sacrifices. But whenever God has sent down His terrors, and the people
have become disorganized and have lost their moral balance, this has
always been due to indulgence in wine. So too when States, small and
great alike, have similarly suffered, misuse of wine has always been
the cause of their downfall.
"Hearken, then, to these instructions, all you high officers and
others! When you have done your duty in ministering to your parents
and serving your sovereign, then you may drink and eat until you are
tipsy and replete. Again, when after constant examination and a course
of virtuous conduct you have ministered with sacrifices to the
spirits, then you may proceed to indulge yourselves with festivity.
Thus, you will be serving your sovereign, God will approve of your
great virtue, and you will never be forgotten by the royal House.
"The drunkenness of the last ruler of the House of Yin, and of his
creatures, caused the resentment of the people to be heard on high;
and God sent down calamity on Yin, because of these excesses God is
not cruel; people bring punishment on themselves.
"It is not a pleasure to me to issue these numerous commands. The
ancients had a saying, 'A man should not seek to see himself in water,
but as reflected in other people.' Ought we not then to look back to
the House of Yin, which has now perished, in order to secure repose
for our own times?
"If persons congregate together to drink, let them all be seized, and
sent to me at the capital; I will put them to death. Those officers of
the House of Yin who have always been accustomed to drink may be
exempted from this penalty. Let them be taught; and then, if they
obey, they may be allowed to enjoy distinction. Otherwise, I will show
no pity."
LAO TZU
7th and 6th Centuries B.C.
Lao Tzu was a great Teacher whose birth has been assigned to
various ages, of which 604 B.C. has perhaps the best claim. Legend
has gathered around his name, and it has even been stated that he
was the son of a virgin. He is known to the Chinese as the author
of a number of remarkable sayings which have been preserved in the
writings of ancient philosophers and which were brought together
and issued, with a large amount of absurd padding, in the form of
a book--the so-called /Tao Tê Ching/--possibly as early as the
Second Century B.C. He is regarded as the founder of Taoism, the
doctrine of the WAY.
The goodness of /doing/ good is not real goodness.
When merit has been achieved, do not take it to yourself; for if you
do not take it to yourself, it shall never be taken from you.
By many words wit is exhausted; it is better to preserve a mean.
Keep behind, and you shall be put in front; keep out, and you shall be
kept in.
He who grasps more than he can hold, would be better without any; he
who strikes with a sharp point, will not himself be safe for long.
Good words shall gain you honour in the market-place; but good deeds
shall gain you friends among men.
To see oneself is to be clear of sight.
He who knows how to shut, uses no bolts,--yet you cannot open; he who
knows how to bind, uses no ropes,--yet you cannot undo.
He who does not desire power nor value wealth,--though his wisdom be
as a fool's, shall he be esteemed among men.
He who, conscious of being strong, is content to be weak,--he shall be
a cynosure of men.
A great principle cannot be divided.[1]
The empire is a divine trust; it may not be ruled. He who rules ruins;
he who holds it by force, loses it.
Mighty is he who conquers himself.
If you would contract, you must first expand. If you would weaken, you
must first strengthen. If you would take, you must first give.
Fishes cannot be taken from water; the instruments of government
cannot be delegated to others.
If the WAY prevails on earth, horses will be used for agriculture; if
not, war-horses will breed in camp.[2]
To the good I would be good. To the not-good I would also be good,--in
order to make them good.
In governing men and in serving God, there is nothing like moderation.
Govern a great nation as you would cook a small fish.
Recompense injury with kindness.
Desire not to desire, and you will not value things difficult to
obtain.
----------
[1] You must not approbate and reprobate.
[2] No campaign will ever end.
K`UNG FU-TZU
(Latinized into CONFUCIUS.)
B.C. 551-479.
Confucius was the Socrates of China. He taught virtue for its own
sake, unsupported by reference to the supernatural, any reliance
upon which he steadily, though indirectly, condemned. He seems,
however, to have thoroughly believed in a God; but whether as a
force physical, or a force moral, or both, it is quite impossible
to decide. Under no circumstances can he be regarded as the
founder of a "religion" in the ordinary sense of the term, with a
priesthood, sacraments, dogmas, etc.; though what is now called
"Confucianism" was actually based in pre-Confucian days on
revelation.
Confucius held several official appointments, and finally rose to
be chief Minister of Justice in his native State. He "became the
idol of the people, and flew in songs through their mouths." But
by the intrigues of a neighbouring prince, he found himself
compelled to resign office, and went into voluntary exile,
wandering from place to place, and employing himself in literary
pursuits, until at length he returned home, where death came upon
him in the seventy-third year of his age.
He was an editor rather than an author. He collected and edited
the ancient national songs now known as the /Odes/. He arranged
and edited those old records which form the /Canon of History/. It
is claimed by Mencius that he compiled the annals of his own State
(but see /Yüan Mei/), dating from some 200 years previous to the
times in which he lived. His discourses were treasured up in the
hearts of his disciples, and were committed to writing in later
years.
EXTRACTS FROM THE DISCOURSES
The Master said--
A plausible tongue and a fascinating expression are seldom associated
with true virtue.
A youth should be filial at home, respectful abroad. He should be
earnest and truthful. He should overflow in love to all, but cultivate
the friendship of the good. Then, whatsoever of energy may be left to
him, he should devote to the improvement of his mind.
Let loyalty and truth be paramount with you. Have no friends not equal
to yourself. If you have faults, shrink not from correcting them.
Learning without thought is labour lost. Thought without learning is
intellectual death.
The study of the supernatural is injurious indeed.
Yu! shall I teach you in what true knowledge consists? To know what
you do know, and to know what you do not know--that is true knowledge.
A man without truthfulness!--I know not how that can be.
In mourning, it is better to be sincere than to be punctilious.
He who offends against God[1] has none to whom he can pray.
Riches and honours are what men desire; yet except in accordance with
right these should not be enjoyed. Poverty and degradation are what
men dread; yet except in accordance with right these should not be
avoided.
The faults of men are characteristic of themselves. By observing a
man's faults you may infer what his virtues are.
If a man hear the Truth in the morning, he may die in the evening
without regret.
Chi Wên thought thrice and then acted. The Master said, Twice will do.
Man is born to be upright. If he be not so, and yet live, he is lucky
to have escaped.
Those who know the Truth are not equal to those who love it; nor those
who love it to those who delight in it.
A disciple having asked for a definition of charity,[2] the Master
said LOVE ONE ANOTHER! Having further asked for a definition of
knowledge, the Master said, KNOW ONE ANOTHER!
The Master said--
Rare are they who prefer virtue to the pleasures of sex.
The commander-in-chief of an army may be carried captive, but the
convictions even of the meanest man cannot be taken from him.
A disciple having enquired about serving the spirits of the dead, the
Master said, You are not even able to serve living men. How then
should you serve spirits? Having further enquired about death, the
Master said, You do not even understand life. How then should you
understand death?
The Master said--
In hearing litigations, I am like any one else. I differ in wishing to
prevent these litigations.
Some one asked Confucius, saying, Master, what think you concerning
the principle that good should be returned for evil? The Master
replied, What then will you return for good? No: RETURN GOOD FOR FOOD;
FOR EVIL, JUSTICE.
A disciple having asked for a rule of life in a word, the Master said,
Is not /Reciprocity/ that word? WHAT YOU WOULD NOT OTHERS SHOULD DO
UNTO YOU, DO NOT UNTO THEM![3]
When his stable was burnt down, Confucius left the Court and asked,
"Has any man been hurt?" He did not ask about the horses.
A feudal noble said to Confucius, "The villagers of my State are
upright men. If a father steals a sheep, his son will give evidence
against him." Confucius replied, "The uprightness of the villagers in
my State is different from that. A father will shield his son, and a
son will shield his father. This is what I call uprightness."[4]
----------
[1] Understood down to A.D. 1200 by the masses as an anthropomorphic
Being, resident in the sky and in control of the four elements;
but subsequently explained by Chu Hsi, the most famous of all
commentators, as "abstract Right."
[2] In its theological sense. See I Corinthians, xiii, Authorized
Version. Since this volume was first published, the Revised
Version has substituted "love" in all cases.
[3] An attempt has been made to show that this is after all only a
negative (and therefore comparatively worthless) enunciation of
the Golden Rule as expressed positively by Christ. The
worthlessness, if any, lies in the terms of such an argument. For
instance, you would not that others should abstain from helping
you in trouble. Therefore you do not refrain from helping them in
trouble. Consequently, you help them; thus doing unto others what
you would they should do unto you.
[4] It may be interesting to compare a recent case, in London, of a
man accused of harbouring his son, a deserter from the army.
The man said that his son had been in the house only a week, and
he could not drive him out.
Mr. Boyd.--You should have informed the police.
The accused.--I should never have heard the last of it from my
family.
Mr. Boyd.--I appreciate that you were in a difficult position, but
it is a serious offence. You must pay £10 or go to prison for six
weeks.
TSO-CH`IU MING
Probably 4th and 5th Centuries B.C.
Very little is known of this writer, whose very name is a matter
of doubt. His important work, the /Tso Chuan/,[1] was a so-called
commentary on the Annals of the Lu State. Those annals consisted
of bald statements of the principal events which took place in the
successive years of each prince's reign. Tso-ch`iu Ming
supplemented these by detailed accounts of the various incidents
alluded to; and thus we have a vivid panorama of the wars and
treaties, the intrigues and dissensions, the loves and hates, of
China's feudal age. The style of the work is grand in the extreme,
and is a perfect repertory of Chinese proverbs and familiar
household words.
THE BATTLE OF CH`ANG-CHO
In the tenth year of his reign, in the first moon, Duke Chuang
defeated the army of the Ch`i State at Ch`ang-Cho.--/Annals/.
The State of Ch`i having declared war against us, our duke was about
to give battle, when a man named Kuei begged for an audience. Kuei's
clansmen had said to him, "The authorities will decide upon the proper
strategy; what place will there be in their counsels for you?" To
which Kuei had replied, "They are but a poor lot, and have no idea
whatever of deep-laid plans."
Accordingly, Kuei was admitted to see the duke, and at once enquired,
saying, "On the strength of what is your Highness about to fight?" "I
have never monopolized the comforts of food and raiment," replied the
duke; "I have always shared with others." "That," said Kuei, "is a
small favour, extending only to a few. The people will not rally round
you on that account alone." "Then," continued the duke, "in the
sacrifices to the Gods I have trusted more to earnestness of heart
than to costly displays." "That again," objected Kuei, "is an
insufficient basis. The Gods will not bless your arms on that account
alone." "And in all judicial investigations," added the duke, "though
oft-times unable to ascertain the precise truth, I have always given
my decision in accordance with the evidence before me." "Ha!" cried
Kuei; "so far you have done your duty to the people, and you may risk
a battle on that. I myself pray to be allowed to accompany your
Highness." To this the duke acceded, and took Kuei with him in his own
chariot.
The battle was fought at Ch`ang-cho; and on sighting the enemy our
duke would have forthwith given orders to beat an attack, but Kuei
said "Not yet!" Only when the enemy's drums had sounded thrice did
Kuei shout out, "Now!"
Our victory was complete; and the duke would promptly have given
orders to pursue, had not Kuei again said, "Not yet!" The latter then
alighted and examined the tracks of the enemy's chariot-wheels; after
which he got up on the hand-rail in front, and following the flying
foe with his eye, cried out, "Now!" Thereupon the order was given to
pursue.
When the battle had been gained, our duke asked Kuei for an
explanation of his tactics. "A battle," replied Kuei, "depends wholly
upon the martial ardour of the combatants. At the first roll of the
drum, that ardour is violently excited; with the second, it begins to
flag; with the third, it is exhausted. Now, when the enemy's ardour
was at this last stage, ours was at its highest pitch: therefore we
conquered them. Still, against a formidable foe, one should be
prepared for anything. I feared an ambuscade; but I found that their
wheel-tracks were in evident disorder. I then looked at their
standards, and saw that these also were in confusion. Therefore I gave
the word to pursue."[2]
----------
BURNING A WIZARD
Twenty-first year of Duke Hsi:--In summer there was a great
drought.--/Annals/.
Thereupon the duke wished to burn a wizard; but his chief minister
said to him, "That will avail nothing against the drought. Rather mend
the city walls; diminish consumption; be economical; and devote every
energy to gathering in the harvest. This is the proper course to take:
what can a wizard do for you? If God now desires his death, he might
as well have never been born. And if he can cause a drought, to burn
him would only make it worse."
The duke followed this advice; and in the ensuing season, although
there was distress, it was not very bad.
----------
HOW YEN-TZU WOULD NOT DIE WITH HIS PRINCE
Twenty-fifth year of Duke Hsiang:--In the fifth moon, in summer,
Ts`ui of the Ch`i State, slew his prince.--/Annals/.
Duke Chuang committed adultery with Ts`ui-tzu's wife, and Ts`ui-tzu
slew him. Thereupon Yen-tzu planted himself at the door of the
latter's house.
"Are you going to die with your prince?" cried his attendants. "Was he
my prince only?" asked Yen-tzu, "that I alone should die." "Will you
flee the country?" said the attendants. "Was his death my crime, that
I should flee?" asked Yen-tzu. "Will you then go home?" enquired the
attendants. "Where," said Yen-tzu, "is there a home for him whose
master is dead? It is not enough for a prince to be merely above the
people; the commonwealth is in his hands. It is not enough for a
minister merely to draw his pay; the commonwealth is his trust.
Therefore, when the prince dies for the commonwealth, his minister
dies with him; when the prince flees, the minister flees also. But if
a prince dies or flees in consequence of matters which concern only
himself, who, save his own private associates, can be expected to
share his fate? Besides, if some one else, under obligations similar
to my own, slays the prince, why should I die, why flee, why go home?"
By-and-by, the door was opened and Yen-tzu went in; and, pillowing the
corpse upon his lap gave vent to tears. He then arose, and striking
the ground three times with his heel, went out. People advised
Ts`ui-tzu to put him to death; but Ts`ui-tzu replied, "He is a popular
man, and to leave him in peace will be to win over the people."
Ts`ui now placed another duke upon the throne, and became his chief
minister, Ch`ing Fêng being appointed minister of the Left. And when
the people were taking the oaths of allegiance in the State temple,
beginning, "May those who are not true to Ts`ui and Ch`ing--,"
Yen-tzu, looking up to heaven, sighed and said, "May I, in whatsoever
I do not submit to those who are loyal to the prince and true to the
commonwealth, be answerable to God!" He then smeared his lips with the
blood.
----------
A TUNNEL
In 721 B.C., the mother of Duke Chuang of the Ch`ing State
conspired against him, with a view to put her younger son on the
throne. The plot failed.
Then the Duke placed his mother under restraint, swearing to her the
following oath:--"Until we meet in the Underworld, I will not look
upon you again,"--an oath of which he shortly repented. Later on, one
of the frontier officials, who had heard the story, came to pay his
respects. The Duke entertained him with a meal, and noticed that he
put aside a portion of the meat served to him. On the Duke asking him
why he did so, the official replied, "Your servant has a mother, who
always shares his food; she has never tasted your Grace's meat, and I
beg to be allowed to keep some for her." The Duke said, "Ah, you have
a mother to whom you can give things; alas! I have no mother." The
official ventured to ask how this could be; and the Duke told him,
adding that he now repented of his oath. "This need not trouble your
Grace," said the official. It will be necessary only to dig down to
the Underworld and form a tunnel in which the meeting can take place.
Who shall say that this is not in accordance with your oath?" The Duke
agreed, and entered the tunnel singing,
Herein we find
Our peace of mind,
while his mother came in singing,
Without, no more
Was joy in store,
and thus they became mother and son as before.
----------
[1] This title has been taken by some to mean literally "Helping
Commentary," and the work has been attributed to Confucius
himself.
[2] My first acquaintance with the sacred books of China was through
the medium of Dr. Legge's translations; and when I subsequently
came to make free use of native commentaries, I could not but be
impressed by the strict verbal accuracy of his renderings,
especially in regard to the /Tso Chuan/. To this rule there are
necessarily exceptions, of a more or less serious character; but
their grand total would be wholly insufficient to cast a shadow
upon that which is truly a monument more lasting than brass. Sir
Thomas Wade, whose scholarship was of a vastly inferior order,
characterized Legge's work as "wooden." His own rendering of "The
/Lun Yü/, being Utterances of Kung (sic.!) Tzu," is beneath
contempt.
LIEH TZU
An imaginary philosopher, said by Chuang Tzu (q.v.) to have been
able to "ride upon the wind and dispense with walking," and
generally regarded as a creature of Chuang Tzu's own brain. The
small work from which the following extracts are taken, was
written up some centuries later. It is in a pseudoarchaic style,
and is not wanting in interest.
REST
Tzu Kung said to Confucius, "Master, I am aweary, and would fain have
rest."
"In life," replied the sage, "there is no rest."
"Shall I, then, never have rest?" asked the disciple.
"You will," said Confucius. "Behold the tombs which lie around; some
magnificent, some mean. In one of these you will find rest."
"How wonderful is Death!" rejoined Tzu Kung. "The wise man rests, the
worldly man is engulfed therein."
"My son," said Confucius, "I see that you understand. Other men know
life only as a boon: they do not perceive that it is a bane. They know
old age as a state of weakness: they do not perceive that it is a
state of ease. They know death only as an abomination: they do not
perceive that it is a state of rest."
"How grand," cried Yen Tzu, "is the old conception of Death! The
virtuous find rest, the wicked are engulfed therein. In death, each
reverts to that from which he came. The ancients regarded death as a
return to, and life as an absence from home. And he who forgets his
home becomes an outcast and a by-word in his generation."
----------
DREAM AND REALITY
A man of the State of Cheng was one day gathering fuel, when he came
across a startled deer, which he pursued and killed. Fearing lest any
one should see him, he hastily concealed the carcass in a ditch and
covered it with plantain-leaves, rejoicing excessively at his good
fortune. By-and-by, he forgot the place where he had put it; and
thinking he must have been dreaming, he set off towards home, humming
over the affair on his way.
Meanwhile, a man who had overheard his words, acted upon them, and
went and got the deer. The latter, when he reached his house, told his
wife, saying, "A woodman dreamt he had got a deer, but he did not know
where it was. Now I have got the deer; so his dream was a reality."
"It is you," replied his wife, "who have been dreaming you saw a
woodman. Did he get the deer? and is there really such a person? It is
you who have got the deer: how, then, can his dream be a reality?" "It
is true," assented the husband, "that I have got the deer. It is
therefore of little importance whether the woodman dreamt the deer or
I dreamt the woodman."
Now when the woodman reached his home, he became much annoyed at the
loss of the deer; and in the night he actually dreamt where the deer
then was, and who had got it. So next morning he proceeded to the
place indicated in his dream,--and there it was. He then took legal
steps to recover possession; and when the case came on, the magistrate
delivered the following judgment:--"The plaintiff began with a real
deer and an alleged dream. He now comes forward with a real dream and
an alleged deer. The defendant really got the deer which the plaintiff
said he dreamt, and is now trying to keep it; while, according to his
wife, both the woodman and the deer are but the figments of a dream,
so that no one got the deer at all. However, here is a deer, which you
had better divide between you."
When the Prince of Chêng heard this story, he cried out, "The
magistrate himself must have dreamt the case!" So he enquired of his
prime minister, who replied, "Only the Yellow Emperor and Confucius
could distinguish dream from reality, and they are unfortunately dead.
I advise, therefore, that the magistrate's decision be confirmed."
----------
WHY CONFUCIUS WAS SAD
Confucius was one day sitting at leisure, when Tzu Kung went in to
attend upon him. The disciple noticed that his master wore a sorrowful
air; but not venturing to ask the reason, went out and told Yen Hui.
Thereupon Yen Hui seized his guitar and began to sing; at which
Confucius called him in and said, "Hui, why are you alone glad?"
"Master," retorted Hui, "why are you alone sorrowful?" "First answer
my question," said Confucius. "I once heard you declare," explained
Yen Hui, "that he who was contented with his lot and prepared for the
appointments of destiny, could not be sorrowful. Accordingly, I am
glad."
The master's expression for a moment changed. Then he answered,
saying, "I did use those words. But you are misapplying them here.
Such utterances are of the past. Rather adopt those which I deliver
now. Alas! you know only the superficial principle that he who is
contented with his lot and prepared for the appointments of destiny
cannot be sorrowful. You do not perceive the deeper sorrow entailed by
this very absence of sorrow. I will you all.
"You cultivate yourself. You accept success or failure as they may
come. You see that life and death are independent of your efforts. You
maintain your moral and mental equilibrium. And you consider that
under such conditions of contentment and preparedness you are without
sorrow.
"Now, I edited the /Odes/ and the /Book of History/. I defined the
functions of Music and Ceremonial. I did this in order to benefit the
whole earth, and to be a guide for posterity. I did not do it merely
for my own personal advantage, nor for that of my own individual
State. But now, even in my own State, the obligations between prince
and subject are forgotten; charity and duty to one's neighbour are
passing away; and right feeling is all but gone. If then the truth
cannot prevail for a brief space in a single State, how is it likely
to prevail over the whole earth through all generations to come? I
know now that all I have achieved is in vain; and I am utterly at a
loss to discover the true remedy. Therefore I am sad."
MO TI
4th and 5th Centuries B.C.
A philosopher of the Sung State, who flourished in the days
between Confucius and Mencius, and who propounded a doctrine of
"universal love," in opposition to the "selfish" school of Yang
Chu, as the proper foundation for organized society. He showed
that under such a system all the calamities which men being upon
one another would altogether disappear, and that the peace and
happiness of the Golden Age would be renewed. He was vigorously
denounced by Mencius, who exhibited the unpractical side of an
otherwise fascinating scheme. See /Liang Ch`i-ch`ao/.
LOVE ONE ANOTHER.--I
There are two men, one of whom discriminates in his love for his
fellows; the other loves all men equally. The former argues, "I cannot
feel for my friends so strongly as I feel for myself, neither can I
feel for my friend's parents so strongly as I feel for my own
parents." As a consequence of this, he may see his friend hungry, and
will not feed him; he may see him cold, and will not clothe him; he
may see him sick, and will not nurse him; he may see him dead, and
will not bury him. Not so the latter; he will not argue thus nor will
he act thus, but he will say, "He who wishes to attain distinction
among men, will feel for his friend as he feels for himself, and for
his friend's parents as for his own." Therefore, when he sees his
friend hungry, he will feed him; cold, he will clothe him; sick, he
will nurse him; and dead, he will bury him. Such will be the language
of one who loves all men equally, and such will be his behaviour.
----------
LOVE ONE ANOTHER.--II
Of old, Duke Wên liked his soldiers to wear coarse clothes; and
therefore, all his Ministers wore sheepskin robes, leather sword-
belts, and caps of rough silk, both when having audience and when on
duty at Court. Why did they do this?--The Duke liked it, and therefore
his Ministers did it.
Of old, Duke Ling liked his soldiers to have small waists; and
therefore his Ministers made it their rule to have only one meal a
day. They drew in their breath before buckling on their belts; they
held on to the wall to help themselves to get up; and by the end of a
year they were all in danger of turning black from starvation. Why did
they do this?--The Duke liked it, and therefore his Ministers did it.
Of old, Prince Kou Chen liked his soldiers to be brave, and instructed
his Ministers to train them accordingly. When they had followed out
these orders, the Prince set fire to a ship in order to test the
soldiers, crying out, "All our State jewels are on board!" He then
beat the Drum for advance; and when the soldiers heard its irregular
rattle, they rushed headlong to trample out the fire, about a hundred
men losing their lives in the attempt, whereupon the Prince beat the
gong for retreat.
Now, to achieve fame by scanty food, or coarse clothes, or loss of
life, is repugnant to the feelings of people in general; but if they
are ready to face such trials merely to gratify their sovereign, how
much more could they not achieve if stimulated by mutual love and by
mutual interests?
----------
DIVINE VENGEANCE
If we do not do that which God wishes us to do, but do that which God
wishes us not to do, then God too will not do that which we wish Him
to do, but will do that which we wish Him not to do. What are those
things which men wish not to suffer?--disease, misfortune, and
bewitchment. Now, if we do not do what God wishes us to do, but do
that which He does not wish us to do, we shall drag the myriad people
of the empire along with us into misfortune and bewitchment.
KUNG-YANG KAO
5th and 4th Centuries B.C.
A commentator on the Annals of the Lu State, said to have been
compiled by Confucius. Nothing is none of his life. On the
authorship of the Annals, see /Yüan Mei/.
THE MARQUIS OF CHI MADE A GREAT EXODUS[1]
What is meant by a Great Exodus?--Extinction.
Who extinguished?--The Ch`i State extinguished.
Then why not say Ch`i extinguished?--To avoid the name of Duke Hsiang
of Ch`i. In such cases in the Annals, the name of a good man is always
omitted.
What goodness was there in Duke Hsiang? He avenged an injury.
What injury?--Owing to slander by the then Marquis of Chi, a distant
ancestor of his had been boiled alive at the suzerain's capital;[2]
and what Duke Hsiang did on this occasion was actuated by an
overwhelming sense of duty to the manes of this ancestor.
How many generations back was this ancestor?--Nine generations.
May an injury be avenged even after nine generations?--It may be
avenged even after one hundred generations.[3]
----------
[1] To save his people from the horrors of war. The commentator
Ku-liang Ch`ih (q.v.) says "he did not leave a single man behind
him" which can only mean that his partisans and retainers followed
him, as he handed over the feudal throne a brother. The State of
Chi was ultimately absorbed by the victors.
[2] In 893 B.C. The present entry refers to 689 B.C.
[3] The principle of the blood-feud has been attributed to Confucius;
but the attribution has only been found in works--the Book of
Rites and the Family Sayings--neither of which, certainly not the
latter, as possessing the stamp of validity.
KU-LIANG CH`IH
4th and 5th Centuries B.C.
Author of another commentary upon the Annals said to have been
compiled by Confucius. Nothing is known of his life except that he
was a pupil of one of the disciples of Confucius, who was born 507
B.C. Even his personal name is differently given as Shu and Ch`ih.
PRAYING FOR RAIN
Prayers for rain should be offered up in spring and summer only; not
in autumn and winter. Why not in autumn and winter? Because the
moisture of growing things is not then exhausted; neither has man
reached the limit of his skill. Why in spring and summer? Because time
is then pressing, and man's skill is of no further avail. How so?
Because without rain just then nothing could be made to grow; the
crops would fail, and famine ensue. But why wait until time is
pressing, and man's skill of no further avail? Because prayers for
rain are the same as asking a favour, and the ancients did not lightly
ask favours. Why so? /Because they held it more blessed to give than
to receive/; and as the latter excludes the former, the main object of
man's life is taken away. How is praying for rain asking a favour? It
is a request that God will do something for us. The divine men of old
who had any request to make to God, were careful to prepare it in due
season. At the head of all his high officers of State, the prince
would proceed in person to offer up his prayer. He could not ask any
one else to go as his proxy.[1]
----------
[1] A commentator adds, "If we are not to ask favours of God, how much
less may we ask them of one another. Persons who recklessly ask
favours, should not be treated with the same consideration to
which they would otherwise be entitled."
YANG CHU
4th Century B.C.
A heterodox thinker who taught the doctrine of /egoism/, as
opposed to the /altruism/ of Mo Tzu (q.v.), also a dissenter from
Confucianism pure and undefiled.
Yang Chu has left us no book. His views, as given below, are taken
from chapter VII of the work ascribed to Lieh Tzu (q.v.), the
authenticity of which has already been discussed under the name of
its alleged author. These views are supposed to be stated in the
actual words of Yang Chu, and at any rate may be held to represent
adequately the opinions of the great egoist.
IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?
A hundred years are the extreme limit of human life,--an age which not
one in a thousand attains.
Let us take the case of a man who does. His helpless infancy and his
helpless old age will together occupy nearly half the time. Pain and
sickness, sorrow and misfortune, actual losses and opportunities
missed, anxieties and fears,--these will almost fill up the rest. He
may possibly have some ten years or so to the good; but even then he
will hardly enjoy a single hour of absolute serenity, undarkened by
the gloom of care. What, then, can be the object of human existence?
Wherein is happiness to be found?
In the appointments of wealth and luxury? Or in the enjoyment of the
pleasures of sense? Alas! those will not always charm, and these may
not always be enjoyed.
Then gain there is the stimulus of good report, there is the restraint
of law, in things we may do and in things we may not do. And thus we
struggle on for a breath of fame, and scheme to be remembered after
death; ever on our guard against the allurements of sense, ever on
watch over our hearts and actions. We miss whatever of real happiness
is to be got out of life, never being able even for a single moment to
relax the vigilance of our heed. In what do we differ, indeed, from
the fettered captives of a gaol?
The men of old knew that with life they had come but for a while, and
that with death they would shortly depart again. Therefore they
followed the desires of their own hearts, and did not deny themselves
pleasures to which they felt naturally inclined. Fame tempted them
not; but led by their instincts alone, they took such enjoyments as
lay in their path, not seeking for a name beyond the grave. They were
thus out of reach of censure; while as for precedence among men, or
length or shortness of life, these gave them no concern whatever.
A disciple asked Yang Chu, saying, "Here is a man who values his life,
and loves his body so that he may escape death; is that possible?" "We
know," replied Yang Chu, "that there is no one who does not die." "So
that he may obtain a very long life," said the enquirer; "is that
possible?" "We know," replied Yang Chu, "that no one has a very long
life. Life cannot be kept by being valued, nor can the body be
strengthened by being loved. Moreover, what will long life do for you?
The five passions, with love and hate, are still with us, as of old.
The miseries and pleasures of this life are still with us, as of old.
The changes of good government and rebellion are still with us, as of
old. And since these things are actually heard and seen and do
alternate, even a hundred years seem too many; how much more miserable
would be a still further prolongation of life?" To this the enquirer
rejoined, "If this is so, then a short life would be better than a
long one, an end which could be reached by falling on a spear or a
sword, by water or by fire." "Not so," answered Yang Chu; "once you
are born, regard life as a disease, and bear it, following the desires
of your heart until death comes; being about to die, regard death as a
disease, and bear it, following its lead until there is an end of you.
Life and death should both be regarded as diseases, and both should be
borne as such; why worry about slowly or quickly in these matters?"
----------
EGOISM v. ALTRUISM
Yang Chu said, A certain man would not par with a single hair in order
to benefit any one. He turned his back on his country and went into
retirement, occupying himself with agriculture. The Great Yü (see
below), who did not employ himself for his own advantage, became
paralysed on one side. The men of old, if by losing one hair they
could advantage the empire, would not give it; but all would offer the
whole body, which was not wanted. If no man ever lost a single hair,
and no man ever advantaged the empire, the empire would enjoy good
government. An enquirer then asked Yang Chu, saying, "If by
sacrificing a single hair /you/ could help the world, would you do
it?" "The world," replied Yang Chu, "could most certainly not be
helped by a single hair." "But if it could," urged the enquirer,
"would you do it?" To this, Yang Chu returned no answer, and the
enquirer took his leave.
----------
SELF-SACRIFICE
Yang Chu said, The admiration of the empire is for Shun, Yü, Chou,[1]
and Confucius; its detestation, for Chieh and Chou.[1]
Shun was engaged in ploughing and in making pottery. His four limbs
never knew a moment's rest; his palate was never tickled and his belly
never full; his parents ceased to love him, and his brothers and
sisters ceased to care for him. He had lived for thirty years before
he asked his parents' leave to be married; and when Yao resigned the
throne to him (2255 B.C.[2]), he was already old, his mind was
impaired, and his son was worthless, so he handed on his throne to Yü
and dragged out a melancholy existence until the end. Here was a
divine man who exhausted all the poisons of this life.
When K`un failed to reduce the waters of the flood[3] and was put to
death, Yü (his son), ignoring the question of vengeance, took over the
task and worked at it with great energy. A son was born to him, but he
had no time to care for it; he even passed his own door without going
into the house. He was paralysed on one side; his hands and feet
became hard and horny; when he received the throne from Shun (2205
B.C.), his palace was a humble cottage, though his State regalia was
magnificent; and thus he dragged out a melancholy existence until the
end. Here was a divine man whose life was sorrowful and wretched.
After the death of the Martial King, his heir being a child, Duke Chou
became Regent (1122 B.C.). One of the feudal nobles was aggrieved, and
mutterings were heard throughout the Four States. The Duke had to stay
in the east; he killed his elder brother and banished his younger
brother;[4] and then he dragged out a melancholy existence until the
end. Here was a divine man whose life was full of dangers and alarms.
Confucius (551-479 B.C.) preached the doctrines of the rulers of old,
and took service under the princes of his day. In the Sung State, the
tree under which he was preaching was cut down; in the Wei State, his
traces were obliterated; in the Shang and Chou States, he was reduced
to want; in the Ch`ên and Ts`ai States, he was in danger of his life;
he had to take rank below Chi, whose chief Minister insulted him; and
thus he dragged out a melancholy existence until the end. Here was a
divine man whose life was all hurry, without a moment's leisure.
All these four holy men failed to get a single day's enjoyment out of
life. Dead, their fame will last for ten thousand generations; but
they will get no reality out of that. Though praised, they do not know
it; though rewarded, they do not know it--any more than if they were
logs of wood or clods of clay.
Chieh (1818 B.C.) inherited vast wealth and enjoyed the dignity of the
throne. He had wit enough to enable him to hold in check his
officials, and power enough to make himself feared within the empire.
He gave himself over to the lusts of the ear and of the eye; he
carried out to the uttermost every fanciful scheme, and had a glorious
time until the end. Here was a divine[5] man whose life was all
pleasure and dissipation.
Chou (1154 B.C.) likewise inherited great wealth, and enjoyed the
dignity of the throne. His power enabled him to do anything, and he
might have gratified any ambition. He indulged his passions with his
concubines, spending long nights in such revelry. He did not bother
about rites and ceremonies or his duties, and had a glorious time
until he was slain.[6]
These two scoundrels had every pleasure in life that they wished to
have. Dead, they will be branded as fools and tyrants; but they will
get no reality out of that. Though reviled, they do not know it;
though praised, they do not know it;--what difference is there between
these two and logs of wood or clods of clay?
Those four holy men, although objects of admiration to all, suffered
miseries throughout their lives and then died like everybody else.
Those two scoundrels, although objects of detestation to all, enjoyed
themselves throughout their lives and also died like everybody else.
----------
[1] These two words are quite distinct in Chinese; in speech, they are
differently toned; and in writing, the characters used are
differently formed.
[2] Since the discovery of the inscribed bones and their
interpretation by Lo Chên-yü and L. C. Hopkins, these early dates
are no longer regarded as legendary.
[3] A more or less local catastrophe, which has been foolishly
identified with Noah's flood.
[4] Out of loyalty to the reigning house.
[5] As being the vice regent of God. Defeated in battle, he was
banished 1766 B.C. and died three years later.
[6] Defeated in battle, he perished in the flames of his own palace.
CHUANG TZU
4th Century B.C.
A most original thinker, of whom the Chinese nation might well be
proud. Yet his writings are tabooed as heterodox, and are very
widely unread, more perhaps on account of the extreme obscurity of
the text than because they are under the ban of the Confucianists.
What little is known of Chuang Tzu's life may be gathered from
some of the extracts given. He is generally regarded as an
advanced exponent of the doctrines of Lao Tzu. So late as the 4th
century A.D., the work of Chuang Tzu appears to have run to fifty-
three chapters. Of these, only thirty-three now remain; and
several of them are undoubtedly spurious, while into various other
chapters, spurious passages have been inserted.
LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY
I
Four men were conversing together, when the following resolution was
suggested:--"Whosoever can make Inaction the head, Life the backbone,
and Death the tail, of his existence,--that man shall be admitted to
friendship with us." The four looked at each other and smiled; and
tacitly accepting the conditions, became friends forthwith.
By-and-by, one of them, named Tzu-yü, fell ill, and another Tzu-ssu,
went to see him. "Verily God is great!" said the sick man. "See how he
has doubled me up. My back is so hunched that my viscera are at the
top of my body. My cheeks are level with my navel. My shoulders are
higher than my neck. My hair grows up towards the sky. The whole
economy of my organism is deranged. Nevertheless, my mental
equilibrium is not disturbed." So saying, he dragged himself painfully
to a well, where he could see himself, and continued, "Alas, that God
should have doubled me up like this!"
"Are you afraid?" asked Tzu-ssu. "I am not," replied Tzu-yü. "What
have I to fear? Ere long I shall be decomposed. My left shoulder may
become a cock, and I shall herald the approach of morn. My right
shoulder will become a cross-bow, and I shall be able to get broiled
duck. My buttocks will become wheels; and with my soul for a horse, I
shall be able to ride in my own chariot. I obtained life because it
was my time; I am now parting with it in accordance with the same law.
Content with the natural sequence of these states, joy and sorrow
touch me not. I am simply, as the ancients expressed it, hanging in
the air, unable to cut myself down, bound with the trammels of
material existence. But man has ever given way before God: why then,
should I be afraid?"
By-and-by, another of the four, named Tzu-lai, fell ill, and lay
gasping for breath, while his family stood weeping around. The fourth
friend, Tzu-li, went to see him. "Chut!" cried he to the wife and
children; "begone! you balk his decomposition." Then, leaning against
the door, he said, "Verily God is great! I wonder what he will make of
you now. I wonder whither you will be sent. Do you think he will make
you into a rat's liver[1] or into the shoulders of a snake?"
"A son," answered Tzu-lai, "must go whithersoever his parents bid him.
Nature is no other than a man's parents. If she bid me die quickly,
and I demur, then I am an unfilial son. She can do me no wrong. She
gives me form here on earth; she gives me toil in manhood; she gives
me repose in old age; she gives me rest in death. And she who is so
kind an arbiter of my life, is necessarily the best arbiter of my
death.
"Suppose that the boiling metal in a smelting-pot were to bubble up
and say, 'Make of me an Excalibur'; I think the caster would reject
that metal as uncanny. And if a sinner like myself were to say to god,
'Make of me a man, make of me a man'; I think he too would reject me
as uncanny. The universe is the smelting-pot, and God is the caster. I
shall go whithersoever I am sent, to wake unconscious the past, as a
man wakes from a dreamless sleep."
II
How do I know that love is life is not a delusion? How do I know that
those who fear death are not mere lost lambs which cannot find their
way back to the fold?
A daughter of the Governor of Ai, when first captured by the Chins,
saturated her robe with tears; but afterwards, when she went into the
prince's palace and lived with him on the fat of the land, she
repented having wept. And how do I know that the dead do not now
repent their former craving for life?
One man will dream of the banquet hour, but wake to lamentation and
sorrow. Another will dream of lamentation and sorrow, but wake to
enjoy himself in the hunting-field. While men are dreaming, they do
not perceive that it is a dream. Some will even have a dream in a
dream; and only when they awake do they know that it was all a dream.
And so, only when the Great Awakening comes upon us, shall we know
this life to be a great dream. Fools believe themselves to be awake
now.[2]
III
Chuang Tzu one day saw an empty skull, bleached, but still preserving
its shape. Striking it with his riding-whip, he said, "Wert thou once
some ambitious citizen whose inordinate yearnings brought him to this
pass?--some statesman who plunged his country in ruin and perished in
the fray?--some wretch who left behind him a legacy of shame?--some
beggar who died in the pangs of hunger and cold? Or didst thou reach
this state by the natural course of old age?"
When he had finished speaking, he took the skull, and placing it under
his head as a pillow, went to sleep. In the night, he dreamt that the
skull appeared to him and said, "You speak well, Sir; but all you say
has reference to the life of mortals, and to mortal troubles. In death
there are none of these. Would you like to hear about death?"
Chuang Tzu having replied in the affirmative, the skull began:--"In
death, there is no sovereign above, and no subject below. The workings
of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bound only by
eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed that which
we enjoy."
Chuang Tzu, however, was not convinced, and said, "Were I to prevail
upon God to allow your body to be born again, and your bones and flesh
to be renewed, so that you could return to your parents, to your wife,
and to the friends of your youth,--would you be willing?"
At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and knitted its brows and
said, "How should I cast aside happiness greater than that of a king,
and mingle once again in the toils and troubles of mortality?"[3]
IV
Life is a state which follows upon Death. Death is a state which
precedes Life. Which of us understands the laws that govern their
succession?
The life of man is the resultant of forces. The aggregation of those
forces is life: their dispersion, death. If, then, Life and Death are
but consecutive states of existence, what cause for sorrow have I?
And so it is that all thing are but phases of unity. What men delight
in is the spiritual essence of life. What they loathe is the material
corruption of death. But this state of corruption gives place to that
state of spirituality, and that state of spirituality gives place in
turn to this state of corruption. Therefore, we may say that all in
the universe is comprised in unity; and therefore the inspired among
us have adopted unity as their criterion.
----------
THE DEATH OF LAO TZU
When Lao Tzu died and Ch`in Shih went to mourn,[4] the latter uttered
three yells and departed.
A disciple asked him, saying, "Were you not our Master's friend?" "I
was," replied Ch`in Shih. "And if so, do you consider that was a
fitting expression of grief at his loss?" added the disciple. "I do,"
said Ch`in Shih. "I had believed him to be the man (/par excellence/),
but now I know he was not. When I went in to mourn, I found old
persons weeping as if for their children, young ones wailing as if for
their mothers. And for him to have gained the attachment of these
people in this way, he too must have uttered words which should not
have been spoken, and dropped tears which should not have been shed,
thus violating eternal principles, increasing the sum of human
emotion, and forgetting the source from which his own life was
received. Such emotions are but the trammels of mortality. The Master
came, because it was his time to be born; he went, because it was his
time to die. For those who accept the phenomenon of birth and death in
this sense, lamentation and sorrow have no place. Death is but the
severance of a thread by which a man hangs suspended in life. Fuel can
be consumed; but the fire endureth for ever."
----------
THE DEATH OF CHUANG TZU'S WIFE
When Chuang Tzu's wife died, Hui Tzu went to condole. He found the
widower sitting on the ground, singing, with his legs spread out at a
right angle, and beating time on a bowl.
"To live with your wife," exclaimed Hui Tzu, "and see your eldest son
grow to be a man, and then not to shed a tear over her corpse,--this
would be bad enough. But to drum on a bowl, and sing; surely this is
going too far."
"Not at all," replied Chuang Tzu. "When she died, I could not help
being affected by her death. Soon, however, I remembered that she had
already existed in a previous state before birth, without form, or
even substance; that while in that unconditioned condition, substance
was added to spirit; that this substance then assumed form; and that
the next stage was birth. And now, by virtue of a further change, she
is dead, passing from one phase to another like the sequence of
spring, summer, autumn, and winter. And while she is thus lying asleep
in Eternity, for me to go about weeping and wailing would be to
proclaim myself ignorant of these natural laws. Therefore I refrain."
----------
ON HIS OWN DEATH-BED
When Chuang Tzu was about to die, his disciples expressed a wish to
give him a splendid funeral. But Chuang Tzu said, "With Heaven and
Earth for my coffin and shell; with the sun, moon, and stars as my
burial regalia; and with all creation to escort me to the grave,--are
not my funeral paraphernalia ready to hand?"[5]
"We fear," argued the disciples, "lest the carrion kite should eat the
body of our Master;" to which Chuang Tzu replied, "Above ground, I
shall be food for kites; below, I shall be food for molecrickets and
ants. Why rob one to feed the other?
"If you adopt, as absolute, a standard of evenness which is so only
relatively, your results will not be absolutely even. If you adopt, as
absolute, a criterion of right which is so only relatively, your
results will not be absolutely right. Those who trust to their senses
become, as it were, slaves to objective existences. Those alone who
are guided by their intuitions find the true standard. So far are the
senses less reliable than the intuitions. Yet fools trust to their
senses to know what is good for mankind, with alas! but external
results."
----------
HOW YAO WISHED TO ABDICATE
The great Yao begged Hsü-yu to become Emperor in his stead, saying,
"If, when the sun and moon are shining brightly, you persist in
lighting a torch, is not that misapplication of fire? If, when the
rainy season is at its height, you still continue to water the ground,
is not that waste of labour? Now, sir, do you assume the reins of
government, and the empire will be at peace. I am but a dead body,
conscious of my own deficiency. I beg you will ascend the throne."
"Ever since you, sire, have directed the administration," replied
Hsü-yu, "the empire has enjoyed tranquillity. Supposing, therefore,
that I were to take your place now, should I gain any reputation
thereby? Besides, reputation is but the shadow of reality; and should
I trouble myself about the shadow? The tit builds its nest in the
mighty forest, and occupies but a single twig. The tapir slakes its
thirst from the river, but drinks enough only to fill its belly. To
you, sire, belongs the reputation: the empire has no need for me. If a
cook is unable to dress the sacrifices, the boy who impersonates the
corpse may not step over the wines and meats and do it for him."
----------
INFERENCE
Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu had strolled on to the bridge over the Hao,
when the former observed, "See how the minnows are darting about! That
is the pleasure of fishes."
"You not being yourself a fish," said Hui Tzu, "how can you possibly
know in what the pleasure of fishes consists?"
"And you not being I," retorted Chuang Tzu, "how can you know that I
do not know?"
"That I, not being you, do not know what you know," replied Hui Tzu,
"is identical with my argument that you, not being a fish, cannot know
in what the pleasure of fishes consists."
"Let us go back to your original question," said Chuang Tzu. "You ask
me how I know in what consists the pleasure of fishes. Your very
question shows that you knew I knew. I knew it from my own feelings on
this bridge."
----------
INDEPENDENCE
Chuang Tzu was one day fishing, when the Prince of Ch`u sent two high
officials to interview him, saying that his Highness would be glad of
Chuang Tzu's assistance in the administration of his government. The
latter quietly fished on, and without looking round, replied, "I have
heard that in the State of Ch`u there is a sacred tortoise, which has
been dead three thousand years, and which the prince keeps packed up
in a box on the altar in his ancestral shrine. Now do you think that
tortoise would rather be dead and have its remains thus honoured, or
be alive and wagging its tail in the mud?" The two officials answered
that no doubt it would rather be alive and wagging its tail in the
mud; whereupon Chuang Tzu cried out, "Begone! I too elect to remain
wagging my tail in the mud."
----------
THE PERFECT MAN
The perfect man is like a spirit. Were the ocean to be scorched up, he
would not be hot. Were the Milky Way to be fast frozen, he would not
feel cold. Of thunder which rives mountains, of wind which lashes the
sea, he is not afraid; and thus, charioted on the clouds of heaven, or
riding on the sun and moon, he journeys beyond the limits of
mortality. Exempt from the changes of life and death, how much more is
he beyond the reach of physical injury. The perfect man can walk under
water without difficulty; he can touch fire without being burnt.[6]
----------
DRUNKENNESS
A drunken man who falls out of a cart, though he may suffer, yet will
not die. His bones are jointed like those of other people, but he
meets the accident under different conditions. His mental equilibrium
is undisturbed. Unconscious of riding in the cart, he is equally
unconscious of falling out of it. The ordinary ideas of life, death,
and fear, find no place in his breast; consequently, when thrown into
collision with matter, he is not afraid. And if a man can thus get
perfect mental equilibrium out of wine, how much more should he do so
out of the resources of his own nature? It is there that the wise man
takes refuge; and there no one can injure him. To those who would
wreak vengeance upon him, he opposes neither spear nor shield; nor
does he heed the brick which some spiteful enemy may hurl at his head.
----------
ARCHERY
Lieh Yü-k`ou instructed Poh-hun Wu-jên in archery. Drawing the bow to
its full, he [the teacher] placed a cup of water on his elbow and
began to let fly. Hardly was one arrow out of sight ere another was on
the string, the archer all the time standing like a statue. Poh-hun
Wu-jên cried out, "This is shooting under ordinary conditions; it is
not shooting under extraordinary conditions. Now I will ascend a high
mountain with you, and stand on the edge of a precipice a thousand
feet in depth, and see if you can shoot like this then." Thereupon
Wu-jên went with his teacher up a high mountain, and stood on the edge
of a precipice a thousand feet high, approaching it backwards until
one-fifth of his feet overhung the chasm, when he beckoned Lieh
Yü-k`ou to come on. But Yü-k`ou had fallen prostrate on the ground,
with the sweat pouring down to his heels.
----------
CAUSALITY
The Penumbra said to the Umbra, "At one moment you move: at another
you are in rest. At one moment you sit down: at another you get up.
Why this instability of purpose?"
"I depend," replied the Umbra, "upon something which causes me to do
as I do; and that something depends upon something else which causes
it to do as it does. My dependence is like that of a snake's scales or
a cicada's wings (which do not move of their own accord). How can I
tell why I do one thing or do not do another."
----------
DREAM AND REALITY
Once upon a time I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and
thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only
of following my fancies (as a butterfly), and was unconscious of my
individuality as a man. Suddenly, I awaked; and there I lay, myself
again. I do not know whether I was then dreaming I was a butterfly, or
whether I am now a butterfly dreaming that it is a man. Between a man
and a butterfly there is necessarily a barrier; and this transition is
called /Metempsychosis/.
----------
[1] The Chinese believe that a rat has no liver.
[2] "To any one who objects that all we see, hear, feel and taste,
think and do, during our whole being, is but the series and
deluding appearances of a long dream, and therefore our knowledge
of anything be questioned; I must desire him to consider that, if
all be a dream, then he doth but dream that makes the
question."--Locke.
[3] Reminding us strangely of /Hamlet/.
[4] Of course only in the Taoist sense--i.e. more to take note of the
death than for purposes of condolence, etc.
[5] Compare the following lines by Mrs. Alexander, from /The Burial of
Moses/:--
And had he not high honour?--
The hillside for his pall;
To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall;
And the dark rock pines like nodding plumes
Above his bier to wave.
And God's own hand in that lonely land
To lay him in the grave.
[6] Compare the foolish taunts of Reid and Beattie, who asked Bishop
Berkeley why "he did not run his head against a post, walk over
precipices, etc.; as in accordance with his theory, no pain, no
broken limbs could result."--Lewes' /Hist. of Philos./ II., p.
287.
CH`Ü-P`ING
4th Century B.C.
A famous poet and minister of one of the feudal princes. Being
unjustly dismissed from favour, he committed suicide by drowning,
and his death gave rise to an annual spring festival, known as the
Dragonboat Festival, at which an imaginary search for his body is
made in every available stream of water throughout the Eighteen
Provinces.
CONSULTING THE ORACLE
Three years had elapsed since Ch`ü-p`ing[1] was dismissed from office,
and still he was unable to obtain an audience of his prince. His
fervent loyalty had been intercepted by the tongue of slander. He was
broken in spirit and knew not whither to direct his steps. In his
doubt he repaired to the Chief Augur and asked for a response. The
Chief Augur thereupon arranged the divining-grass and wiped the
tortoise-shell, saying, "What, sir, are the points on which you desire
to be enlightened?"
"Tell me," cried Ch`ü-p`ing, "whether I should steadily pursue the
path of truth and loyalty, or follow in the wake of a corrupt
generation. Should I work in the fields with spade and hoe, or seek
advancement in the retinue of a grandee? Should I court danger by
outspoken words, or fawn in false tones upon the rich and great?
Should I rest content in the cultivation of virtue, or practise the
art of wheedling women in order to secure success? Should I be pure
and clean-handed in my rectitude, or an oily-mouthed, slippery, time-
serving sycophant? Should I hold on my course like an impetuous
charger, or oscillate, with the indecision of a duck in a pool, to and
fro as self-interest commands? Should I yoke myself a fellow in the
shafts with Bucephalus, or shamble along by the side of Rozinante?
Should I vie with the wild goose in soaring to heaven, or scramble for
food on a dunghill with hens? Of these alternatives I would know which
to choose. The age is muddy and will not be made clean. The wing of
the cicada outweighs a thousand pounds. The priceless goblet is set
aside for the delf cup. Flatterers fill high places: men of worth are
ignored. Alas! who is there that knows my worth?"
The Chief Augur gathered up his divining apparatus and saluted
Ch`ü-p`ing, saying, "A foot is oft-times too short; an inch, too long.
The implements of my art are not adequate to your requirements. Think
for yourself, and translate your thoughts into action. The divining-
grass and the tortoise-shell would avail you naught."
----------
THE FISHERMAN'S REPLY
When Ch`ü-p`ing was dismissed, he wandered away to the banks of a
river, and there poured forth his soul in verse. His colour changed.
His body wasted to a skeleton.
One day a fisherman accosted him, saying, "Are you not his Excellency
the Prime Minister? What has brought you to this pass?"
"The world," replied Ch`ü-p`ing, "is foul; and I alone am clean. There
they are all drunk, while I alone am sober. So I am dismissed."
"Ah!" said the fisherman, "the true sage does not quarrel with his
environment, but adapts himself to it. If, as you say, the world is
foul, why not leap into the tide and make it clean? If all men are
drunk, why not drink with them, and teach them to avoid excess? Of
what avail are these subtle thoughts, these lofty schemes, which end
only in disgrace?"
"I have heard," rejoined Ch`ü-p`ing, "that the bather fresh from the
bath will shake the dust from his hat and clothes. How should he allow
his pure body to be soiled with the corruption of earth? I am willing
to find a grave in the bellies of the fishes that swim in this stream:
I will not let my purity be defiled by the filth and corruption of the
world."
The fisherman laughed, and keeping time with his oar, sculled off,
singing,--
My tassel I'll wash if the water is sweet;
If the water is muddy 'twill do for my feet.
----------
THE GENIUS OF THE MOUNTAIN
Methinks there is a Genius of the hills, clad in wistaria, girdled
with ivy, with smiling lips, of witching mien, riding on the pard,
wild cats galloping in the rear, reclining in a chariot, with banners
of cassia, cloaked with the orchid, girt with azalea, culling the
perfume of sweet flowers to leave behind a memory in the heart. But
dark is the grove wherein I dwell. No light of day reaches it ever.
The path thither is dangerous and difficult to climb. Alone I stand on
the hill top, while the clouds float beneath my feet, and all around
is wrapped in gloom.
Gently blows the east wind: softly falls the rain. In my joy I become
oblivious of home; for who in my decline would honour me now?
I pluck the larkspur on the hillside, amid the chaos of rock and
tangled vine. I hate him who has made me an outcast, who has now no
leisure to think of me.
I drink from the rocky spring. I shade myself beneath the spreading
pine. Even though he were to recall me to him, I could not fall to the
level of the world.
Now booms the thunder through the drizzling rain. The gibbons bowl
around me all the long night. The gale rushes fitfully through the
whispering trees. And I am thinking of my prince, but in vain; for I
cannot lay my grief.[2]
----------
[1] This use of the third person is common in Chinese literature.
[2] The above translation of what is more correctly a song has been
versified and published without a word of acknowledgment by Mr.
Cranmer-Byng in his "Lute of Jade" (which has been called a "Loot
of Jade"), p. 32, as follows:--
Methinks there is a genius
Roams in the mountains,
Girdled with ivy
And robed in wisteria (sic), etc., etc.
SUNG YÜ
3rd and 4th Centuries B.C.
Nephew of the famous Ch`ü P`ing, and like his uncle a statesman
and a poet. His poems are included among the "Rhapsodies of Ch`u."
WIND
King Hsiang of the Ch`u State was strolling in the palace on the
Epidendrum Terrace, with Sung Yü and Ching Ch`a in attendance. A
breeze suddenly got up, causing the king to draw his robe across his
breast as a protection. "The air bites shrewdly," he said; "do I, the
sovereign and my people feel it alike?" Sung Yü replied, "This breeze
belongs to your Majesty alone; how could the people share it?" "But
wind," said the king, "is a vivifying principle of the universe; it is
universally exhilarating, and it does not distinguish in its favours
between those who are honoured and exalted and those who are humble
and lowly. You, sir, just now spoke as if the breeze belonged
personally to me, the sovereign. How is this so?" "I have learnt from
my teacher," answered Sung Yü, "that forks in the mulberry-tree invite
nests and that hollows and holes invite wind, the reason in each case
being the different qualities of wind." "But where does wind come
from?" asked the king. "Wind," replied Sung Yü, "is produced on the
earth, and rises from the tips of the green duckweed leaves; it rushes
wildly through ravines and valleys, and roars loudly in large holes.
Climbing the slopes of Mt. T`ai, it dances beneath the pines and the
cypresses, with streams of whirling water, with angry flashes of
flying flames and peals of booming thunder. Now, back to the holes
while blowing from every quarter, flinging about stones, breaking off
the ends of branches and destroying the undergrowth of the forest.
"Then, when it begins to abate, after having scattered far and wide
the beauty of foliage, it rushes into hollows an rattles door-bars,
while a brightness is diffused around as now it calms down and now it
comes again. Therefore this pure cool virile wind is wafted about, up
and down; it mounts the lofty city walls and enters far into the
palace; it touches flowers and leaves, and stimulates their vitality;
it wanders among the cinnamon and pepper-trees, and soars round and
round over the rolling waters; it strikes at the spirit of the
hibiscus; it robs the orchid and scatters the asaram; it levels the
magnolia and shrivels the poplar. Returning to its lair, it plays
havoc with artemisia and other fragrant plants; it moves to and fro in
the court-yard, or northwards to the Jade Hall, where it runs up the
silk curtains and passes into the nuptial chamber. That is why it is
called the sovereign's wind.
"The effect of this wind upon those who are in it, is to make them
look sad, and chilled, even to sobbing. Pure and fresh, it cures
disease and sobers the drunk; it sharpens one's sight and hearing; it
gives repose to the body and comfort to the man; and thus it is called
the virile wind of the sovereign."
"Well put, indeed," said the king. "Now can you tell me about the wind
of the people?" "The wind of the people," replied Sung Yü, "rises with
a gust in the slums. It sweeps up clouds of dust from holes; suddenly
roused, it brings troubles, piercing through crevices and attacking
doors; it disturbs graves and blows about dead ashes; it throws
everything into confusion, whirling along rotten flesh and other
horrors, until at last it passes through the jar-mouth windows and so
into the rooms of the cottage.
"The effect of this wind upon those who are in it, is to make them
altogether dull and full of anxiety, driving out warmth and
engendering dampness and distrustful emotions. It breeds disease and
produces fevers; affecting the lips, it causes sores; reaching the
eyes, it makes them red; it harasses by a racking cough, so that
people care nothing whether they live or die; and thus it is called
the feminine wind of the people."
----------
UNPOPULARITY
The Prince of Ch`u said to his prime minister,[1] "What have you done
that should cause the officers and people of this State to abuse you
so clamorously?"
"Abuse me indeed they do," replied the minister; "but pardon my
boldness, and I will explain. A stranger was singing in one of our
villages the other day, and this was the subject of his lay:--There is
the music of the masses; there is the music of a narrower circle; that
of a narrower circle still; and lastly, the classical music of the
cultured few. This classical music is too lofty, and too difficult of
comprehension, for the masses.[2]
"Among birds there is the phœnix: among fishes, the leviathan. The
phœnix soars aloft, cleaving the red clouds, with the blue firmament
above it, away into the uttermost realms of space. But what can the
poor hedge-quail know of the grandeur of heaven and earth? The
leviathan rises in the morning in one ocean to go to rest at night in
another. But what can the minnow of a puddle know of the depth of the
sea?
"And there are phœnixes and leviathans, not only among birds and
fishes, but among men. There is the Safe, full of nervous thought and
of unsullied fame, who dwells complacently alone.--What can the vulgar
herd know of me?"
----------
[1] Sc. to the writer.
[2] It is vulgarly believed that the Chinese have no music--worthy the
name. That they had what they themselves were pleased to call
music, a thousand years before Christ, is beyond all doubt; and an
idea of its æsthetic value may be gathered from the following
extracts from the /Tso Chuan/:--
They sang to him the Odes of Chou. "Admirable!" said he; "this is
the expression of earnest endeavour, without any resentment."
They sang to him the Odes of P`ei. "Admirable!" said he; "here are
those who sorrow, and yet are not distressed."
They sang to him the Odes of Pin. "Admirable!" said he; "they are
expressive of enjoyment without license."
They sang to him the Odes of Wei. "Admirable!" said he; "what
harmony! Here is grandeur with delicacy, like a defile, dangerous,
yet easily traversed."
Their ancient music, however, disappeared, and with it the Canon
of Music which was formerly included among the Six Classics (now
Five), at some period subsequent to the campaign of Alexander the
Great in Central Asia. The music of Greece took its place; "cette
fill ailée," said Professor Chavannes, "du génie hellenique erra
jusque chez les Chinois qui furent émerveillés de sa beauté, mais
qui ne surent pas lui conserver sa pureté native."
T`AN KUNG
3rd and 4th Centuries B.C.
DIVORCE
When Tzu-shang's mother died, he would not attend her funeral. A
disciple asked his father, Tzu-ssu (grandson of Confucius), saying,
"Did not your father attend his divorced mother's funeral?" "He did,"
replied Tzu-ssu. "Then why cannot you make Tzu-shang do likewise?"
rejoined the disciple. "My grandfather," said Tzu-ssu, "was a man of
complete virtue. I cannot aspire to his level. As long as the deceased
was my wife, she was my son's mother. When she ceased to be my wife,
she ceased also to be his mother."
From that time forth, it became a rule among the descendants of
Confucius not to attend the funeral of a divorced mother.
----------
THE BURIAL OF CONFUCIUS
A certain man travelled from afar to witness the funeral obsequies of
Confucius. He stayed at the house of Tzu-hsia, who observed, "A sage
conducting a funeral is one thing: a safe's funeral is another thing.
What did you expect to see? Do you not remember that our Master once
said, 'Some people pile up earth into square, others into long-shaped
tumuli. Some build spacious mausolea, others content themselves with
small axe-shaped heaps. I prefer the heaps.' He meant what we call
/horse-neck/ heaps. So we have given him only a few handfuls of earth,
and he is buried. Is not this as he would have wished it himself?"
----------
ON MOURNING
One day Yu-tzu and Tzu-yu saw a child weeping for the loss of its
parents. Thereupon, the former observed, "I never could understand why
mourners should necessarily jump about to show their grief, and would
long ago have got rid of the custom. Now here you have an honest
expression of feeling, and that is all there should ever be."
"My friend," replied Tzu-yu, "the mourning ceremonial, with all its
material accompaniments, is at once a check upon undue emotion and a
guarantee against any lack of proper respect. Simply to give vent to
the feelings is the way of barbarians. That is not our way.
"Consider. A man who is pleased will show it in his face. He will
sing. He will get excited. He will dance. So, too, a man who is vexed
will look sad. He will sigh. He will beat his breast. He will jump
about. The due regulation of these emotions is the function of a set
ceremonial.
"Further. A man dies and becomes an object of loathing. A dead body is
shunned. Therefore, a shroud is prepared, and other paraphernalia of
burial, in order that the survivors may cease to loathe. At death,
there is a sacrifice of wine and meat; when the funeral cortège is
about to start, there is another; and after burial there is yet
another. Yet no one ever saw the spirit of the departed come to taste
of the food.
"These have been our customs from remote antiquity. They have not been
discarded, because, in consequence, men no more shun the dead. What
you may censure in those who perform the ceremonial is no blemish in
the ceremonial itself."
----------
BURYING ALIVE
When Tzu-chü died, his wife and secretary took counsel together as to
who should be interred with him.[1] All was settled before the arrival
of his brother, Tzu-k`ang; and then they informed him, saying, "The
deceased requires some one to attend upon him in the nether world. We
must ask you to go down with his body to the grave." "Burial of the
living with the dead," replied Tzu-hêng, "is not in accordance with
established rights. Still, as you say some one is wanted to attend
upon the deceased, who better fitted than his wife and secretary? If
this contingency can be avoided altogether, I am willing; if not, then
the duty will devolve upon you two."
From that time forth the custom fell into desuetude.[2]
----------
BAD GOVERNMENT
When Confucius was crossing the T`ai mountain, he overheard a woman
weeping and wailing beside a grave. He thereupon sent one of his
disciples to ask what was the matter; and the latter addressed the
woman, saying, "Some great sorrow must have come upon you that you
give way to grief like this?" "Indeed it is so," replied she. "My
father-in-law was killed here by a tiger; after that, my husband; and
now my son has perished by the same death." "But why, then," enquired
Confucius, "do you not go away?" "The government is not harsh,"
answered the woman. "There!" cried the Master, turning to his
disciples; "remember that. Bad government is worse than a tiger."
----------
A STRANGE CONGRATULATION
When Chao Wu had completed his palace, all the great nobles went to
offer their congratulations. One of them said, "How beautiful! how
grand! how spacious! Here you will sing: there you will weep: and here
the clans will gather together."
"Ah!" replied Chao Wu; "may it indeed come to pass that I shall sing
here, and weep there, and that here the clans will gather together;
for thus I should go down to the grave of my forefathers with my head
safely on my shoulders." So saying, he bowed twice towards the north,
striking his brow upon the ground.
"Well-timed," exclaims the superior man, "was the panegyric; and well-
timed also was the prayer."[3]
----------
THE SONG OF THE COFFIN
An old friend of Confucius having lost his mother, the Master went to
assist in varnishing the coffin. "Ai-ya!" exclaimed the friend as he
brought the coffin in, "'tis long since I have had any music."
Thereupon he began to sing--
[musical notation omitted]
Striped like the wild cat's head, Smooth as a maiden's hand
Ai-yah! Ai-yah!
[alluding (1) to the grain of the wood and (2) to the varnish.][4]
Confucius pretended not to hear, and moved away; but one of his
disciples cried out, "Master, should you not have done with a fellow
like this?"
"It is not right," replied Confucius, "to disregard the duties we owe
to our parents; neither is it right to disregard the duties we owe to
our friends."
----------
[1] The custom of burying living creatures with the dead was first
practised in China B.C. 580. It was said to have been suggested by
an earlier and more harmless custom of placing straw and wooden
effigies in the mausolea of the great.
[2] In the 8th moon (B.C. 590) Duke Wên of Sung died. He was the first
duke who had an elaborate funeral. Clam mortar was used for lining
the grave. There were additional horses and carriages; and human
beings were now for the first time interred alive with the dead.--
/Tso Chuan/.
[3] The strange part of the congratulation was to allude, even
indirectly, to the hateful contingency of death, as suggested by
the word "weep." But the reply skilfully turned into a compliment
what must otherwise have been taken as an affront.
[4] The music is not part of the text. These few bars are given merely
as a sample of a Chinese popular air.
FROM THE HISTORY OF THE CONTENDING STATES.--ANONYMOUS
THE ELIXIR OF DEATH
A certain person having forwarded some elixir of immortality to the
Prince of Ching, it was received as usual by the door-keeper. "Is this
to be swallowed?" enquired the Chief Warden of the palace. "It is,"
replied the door-keeper. Thereupon, the Chief Warden purloined and
swallowed it. At this, the prince was exceedingly wroth, and ordered
his immediate execution; but the Chief Warden sent a friend to plead
for him, saying, "Your Highness' servant asked the door-keeper if the
drug was to be swallowed; and as he replied in the affirmative, your
servant accordingly swallowed it. The blame rests entirely with the
door-keeper. Besides, if the elixir of life is presented to your
Highness, and because your servant swallows it, your Highness slays
him, that elixir is clearly the elixir of death; and for your Highness
thus to put to death an innocent official is simply for your Highness
to be made the sport of men."
The prince spared his life.
MENG TZU
(Latinized into MENCIUS.)
B.C. 372-289.
Mencius is China's "second sage." He was to Confucius much what
St. Paul was to Christ. The great principles which were henceforth
to guide the nation had been already enunciated, and to these
Mencius added nothing new. He lacked the inspiration which had
placed Confucius in the front rank of the world's Prophets. But he
did good work in expounding and disseminating the message which
the Master had left behind him; especially in denouncing the
theories of Mo Ti and Yang Chu (qq.vv.). His writings have been
justly included in the Canon of Confucianism, and for more than
twenty centuries his name has been a household word over the
length and breadth of China.
HALF MEASURES
King Hui of Liang said to Mencius, "I exhaust my energies in the
administration of government. If the harvest is bad on one side of the
river, I transfer a number of the inhabitants to the other, and send
supplies to those who remain. No ruler among the neighbouring States
devotes himself as I do to the welfare of his people. Yet their
populations do not decrease; neither does mine increase. How is this?"
Mencius replied, "Your Majesty loves war. Let us take an illustration
from war:--
"The drums beat: blades cross: arms are flung aside: the vanquished
seek safety in flight. Some will run a hundred yards and then stop;
others, fifty only. Can those who run fifty laugh at those who run a
hundred?"
"No, indeed," replied the king; "it was flight in both cases."
"And so," rejoined Mencius, "your Majesty, perceiving the application
of what I have said, will not (under present conditions) expect your
population to exceed the populations of neighbouring States.
"Let the times for agriculture be not neglected, and there will be
more grain than can be eaten. Let no close-meshed nets sweep your
streams, and there will be more fishes and turtles than can be eaten.
Let forestry be carried on in due season, and there will be more wood
than can be used. Thus, the people will be able to feed their living
and bury their dead without repining; and this is the first step
towards establishing a perfect system of government.
"Let the mulberry-tree be cultivated in accordance with regulation;
then persons of fifty years old will be able to wear silk. Let due
attention be paid to the breeding of poultry, and swine, and dogs;
then persons of seventy years old will be able to eat meat. Let there
be no interference with the labour of the husbandman; and there will
be no mouths crying for food. Let education of the people be
reverently attended to;--above all, let them be taught their duties
towards their parents and brethren;--and there will be no gray-headed
burden-carriers to be seen along the highway. For, where
septuagenarians wear silk and eat meat, where the black-haired people
are neither hungry nor cold, it has never been that perfect government
did not prevail.
"Your dogs and swine are battening on the food of men, and you do not
limit them. By the roadside there are people dying of hunger, and you
do not succour them. If they day, you say, 'It was not I; it was the
bad season.' What is this but to stab a man to death, and say, 'It was
not I; it was the weapon?' O king, blame not the season for these
things, and all men under the canopy of heaven will flock to you."
King Hui replied, "I beg to receive your instructions."
Mencius continued, "Is there any difference between killing a man with
a bludgeon and killing him with a sword?"
"There is none," answered the king.
"Or between killing him with a sword and killing him by misrule?"
pursued Mencius.
"There is none," replied the king again.
"Yet in your kitchen," said Mencius, "there is fat meat, and in your
stables there are sleek horses, while famine sits upon the faces of
your people, and men die of hunger in the fields. This is to be a
beast, and prey upon your fellow-man.
"Beasts prey upon one another, in a manner abhorrent to us. If, then,
he who holds the place of father and mother to the people, preys upon
them like a beast, wherein does his prerogative consist?
"Confucius said, 'Was he not without posterity who first buried images
with the dead?'--meaning that these, being in the likeness of man,
suggested the use of living men. What then of him who causes his
people to die of hunger?"
----------
BORN IN SIN
Kao Tzu said, "Human nature may be compared with a block of wood; duty
towards one's neighbour, with a wooden bowl. To develop charity and
duty towards one's neighbour out of human nature is like making a bowl
out of a block of wood."
To this Mencius replied, "Can you without interfering with the natural
constitution of the wood, make out of it a bowl? Surely you must do
violence to that constitution in the process of making your bowl. And
by parity of reasoning you would do violence to human nature in the
process of developing charity and duty towards one's neighbour. From
which it follows that all men would come to regard these rather as
evils than otherwise."
Kao Tzu said, "Human nature is like rushing water, which flows east or
west according as an outlet is made for it. For human nature makes
indifferently for good or for evil, precisely as water makes
indifferently for the east, or for the west."
Mencius replied, "Water will indeed flow indifferently towards the
east or west; but will it flow indifferently up or down? It will not;
and the tendency of human nature towards good is like the tendency of
water to flow down. Every man has this bias towards good, just as all
water flows naturally downwards. By splashing water, you may indeed
cause it to fly over your head; and by turning its course you may keep
it for use on the hillside; but you would hardly speak of such results
as the nature of water. They are the results, of course, of a /force
majeure/. And so it is when the nature of man is diverted towards
evil."
Kao Tzu said, "That which comes with life is nature."
Mencius replied, "Do you mean that there is such a thing as nature in
the abstract, just as there is whiteness in the abstract?"
"I do," answered Kao Tzu.
"Just, for instance," continued Mencius, "as the whiteness of a
feather is the same as the whiteness of snow, or the whiteness of snow
as the whiteness of jade?"
"I do," answered Kao Tzu again.
"In that case," retorted Mencius, "the nature of a dog is the same as
that of an ox, and the nature of an ox the same as that of a man."
Kao Tzu said, "Eating and reproduction of the species are natural
instincts. Charity is subjective and innate; duty towards one's
neighbour is objective and acquired. For instance, there is a man who
is my senior, and I defer to him as such. Not because any abstract
principle of seniority exists subjectively in me, but in the same way
that if I see a white man I recognise him as such, because he is so
objectively to me. Consequently, I say that that duty towards one's
neighbour is objective or acquired."
Mencius replied, "The cases are not analogous. The whiteness of a
white horse is undoubtedly the same as the whiteness of a white man;
but the seniority of a horse is not the same as the seniority of a
man. Does our duty to our senior begin and end with the fact of his
seniority? Or does it not rather consist in the necessity of deferring
to him as such?"
Kao Tzu said, "I love my own brother; but I do not love another man's
brother. The distinction arises from within myself; therefore I call
it subjective or innate. But I defer to a stranger who is my senior
just as I defer to a senior among my own people. The distinction comes
to me from without; therefore I call it objective or acquired."
Mencius retorted, "We enjoy food cooked by strangers just as much as
food cooked by our own people. Yet extension of your principle lands
us in the conclusion that our appreciation of cooked food is also
objective and acquired."
----------
ABDICATION OF THE EMPEROR YAO
A disciple asked, saying, "Is it true that Yao (2357 B.C.) gave the
throne to Shun[1] (2255 B.C.)?" "It is not true," replied Mencius;
"the Son of God[2] cannot take the throne and give it to any one."
"Yes," said the disciple, "but Shun got it. Who gave it to him?" "God
gave it to him." "Oh, God gave it to him, did He? Were there any
particular commands as to what his duties would be?" "No," replied
Mencius; "God does not speak. God made manifest His will through
Shun's own behaviour." "Oh," said the disciple, "through Shun's own
behaviour, was it? How did He manage that?" "The Son of God," replied
Mencius, "can recommend any one to God, but he cannot make God give
that man the throne. Just so, the feudal nobles can recommend any one
to the Son of God, but they cannot make the Son of God appoint that
man to be a feudal noble. Likewise, a Minister can recommend any one
to his suzerain, but he cannot make his suzerain appoint that man to
be a Minister. In those days of old, Yao recommended Shun to God, and
God accepted him; he let the people see what sort of man Shun was, and
the people accepted him. Therefore I said, God does not speak; He
manifests His will through behaviour." "May I ask," said the disciple,
"how this was managed?" "Yao," replied Mencius, "caused Shun to
preside over the sacrifices; and as the spirits were well pleased, God
accepted him. Yao also caused him to preside over the conduct of
affairs; and as affairs were well administered and a general well-
being prevailed, the people accepted him. Thus it was god and the
people who gave Shun the throne; and therefore I said that the Son of
God cannot give the throne to any one."
----------
CHARITY OF HEART
There are dignities of God, and there are dignities of man. Charity of
heart, duty towards one's neighbour, loyalty, and truth--these are the
dignities of God. To be a duke, a minister of State, or a high
official--these are the dignities of man. The men of old cultivated
the dignities of God, and the dignities of man followed. The men of
to-day cultivate the dignities of God in order to secure the dignities
of man; and when they have obtained the dignities of man, they case
aside all further thought of the dignities of God. In this they
greatly err, and the probability is that they will lose their
dignities of man as well.
Charity of heart is the noblest gift of God; it is a house, so to
speak, in which a man may live in peace. No one can prevent us from
possessing this gift; if we have it not, that is due to our own folly.
Charity of heart subdues uncharitableness just as water subdues fire.
But people nowadays employ charity of heart much in the same way as if
they were to try to put out a blazing cartload of firewood with a
single cupful of water; and then when they fail to put out the flames,
they turn round and blame the water.[3]
----------
YANG CHU AND MO TI
"Master," said a disciple, "people all declare that you are fond of
disputing; I venture to ask if this is so." "It is not," replied
Mencius; "the fact is that I cannot do otherwise. Inspired rulers are
no longer in power; the feudal barons have thrown off all restraint;
and idle scholars are discussing unorthodox themes. The words of Yang
Chu and Mo Ti fill the empire, and those who are not on the side of
one will be found on the side of the other. Yang's doctrine is /Every
man for himself/, which means that he recognizes no ruler. Mo's
doctrine is /Love all equally/, which means that he does not recognize
the special claim of a parent. But to recognize neither parent nor
ruler is to be a brute beast. If these doctrines are not checked, and
the doctrines of Confucius are not put forward, heterodox teachings
will delude the people, and charity of heart and duty towards one's
neighbour will cease to prevail. Then, beasts will be led on to devour
men, and men will soon be devouring one another. I am alarmed by these
things, and address myself to the doctrines of the inspired men of old
in order to oppose Yang and Mo.[4]
----------
SEPARATION OF SEXES
A philosopher asked Mencius, saying, "That men and women, in giving
and receiving, shall not touch hands,--is such the rule of propriety?"
"It is," replied Mencius. "But supposing," said the philosopher, "that
a sister-in-law was drowning, should a man not give her a hand and
pull her out?" "A man," answered Mencius, "who could see his sister-
in-law drown and not give her his hand, would be a wolfish brute. That
men and women, in giving and receiving, do not touch hands, is a rule
of propriety; but when a sister-in-law is drowning, to give her a hand
and pull her out comes under the head of exceptions to the rule."
"Just now," retorted the philosopher, "the empire is drowning; why do
you not pull it out?" "The drowning empire," replied Mencius, "must be
saved by the eternal principles of Right; a drowning sister-in-law by
the hand. Would you have me save the empire by my hand?"
----------
[1] For more about Sun, see /Yang Chu/. "On Self Sacrifice."
[2] More commonly called the "Son of Heaven"; but now that the word
/t`ien/ has been shown to mean an anthropomorphic Deity--to all
intents and purposes /the/ Deity, as universally recognized,--it
seems only proper to use the term "God" without reserve. That
/t`ien tzu/ means the "Son of God" is also beyond the reach of
argument. This phraseology may doubtless shock many who are more
concerned with accidentals than with essentials. It must however
be remembered that priority is on the side of the Chinese, who
created the term and used it widely centuries before the Christian
era.
[3] It is plain that on this important topic, much slurred over by
many, the Chinese have nothing to learn from St. Paul.
[4] For the views of these writers, see the extracts given under their
names.
HSÜN TZU
3rd Century B.C.
Famous chiefly for having sustained the heterodox theory that the
nature of man is evil in opposition to the Confucian doctrine that
man is born good and becomes evil through his environment.
BORN IN SIN
By nature, man is evil. If a man is good, that is an artificial
result. For, his condition being what it is, he is influenced first of
all by a desire for gain. Hence, he strives to get all he can without
consideration for his neighbour. Secondly, he is liable to envy and
hate. Hence, he seeks the ruin of others, and loyalty and truth are
set aside. Thirdly, he is a slave to his animal passions. Hence, he
commits excesses, and wanders from the path of duty and right.
Thus, conformity with man's natural disposition leads to all kinds of
violence, disorder, and ultimate barbarism. Only under the restraint
of law and of lofty moral influences does man eventually become fit to
be a member of regularly organised society.
From these premises it seems quite clear that by nature man is evil;
and that if a man is good, that is an artificial result.
LI SSU
3rd Century B.C.
Was for a long period prime minister and trusted adviser of the
prince who finally annihilated the feudal system which prevailed
under the Chou dynasty, and seated himself upon the throne as the
First Emperor of China. It was then that Li Ssu suggested the
entire destruction of existing literature, with a few trifling
exceptions, in order to break off absolutely all connection with
the past; a design which was rapidly carried into practical
effect, though not to the extent which has been generally
supposed, and from the operation of which the sacred books of
Confucianism were saved only by the devotion of a few. Li Ssu was
himself an accomplished scholar, and invented a form of writing
which remained in vogue for several centuries, until superseded by
the style now in use.
ON THE EMPLOYMENT OF FOREIGNERS
The high officers of State had combined to persuade the Prince of
Ch`in to dismiss all foreign nobles and other strangers from the
Court, urging that such persons were there only in the interests of
their masters. This proscription would have included me. I therefore
sent up the following Memorial:--
May it please your Majesty,
The present scheme for proscribing strangers is in every way a fatal
step. have we not innumerable examples in the past of the employment
of foreigners, to the greater glory of the State and to the infinite
advantage of the people?
From the mountains of Tibet your Majesty receives jade; from
elsewhere, jewels. Bright pearls, good blades, fine horses, kingfisher
banners, triton-skin drums,--of such rarities not one is produced at
home, yet your Majesty delights in all. But if nothing is to be used
in future save local produce, then will rich pearls shine no more at
Court, then will the elephant and the rhinoceros contribute their
ivory no more, nor the ladies of Chao throng the Imperial harem, nor
sleek palfreys stand in the Imperial stables, nor gold, nor pewter-
ware, not brilliant hues glow within the Imperial walls.
And if all, too, which adorns the seraglio, and ministers to the
pleasure of eye and ear, must for the future be of local growth; then
adieu to pearl-set pins, to jewelled ear-drops, to silken shirts and
embroidered hems;--welcome the humble and the plain, there where
beauty no longer reigns supreme.
Take for instance our local music--shrill songs shrieked to earthen
and wooden accompaniments--as compared with the magnificent harmonies
of other States. Those we have rejected in favour of these, simply
because the latter contributed most to the pleasure of sense.
In the choice of men, however, this principle is not to prevail. There
is to be no question of capacity or of incapacity, of honesty or of
dishonesty. If he be not native, he must go: all foreigners are to be
dismissed. Surely this is to measure men by a lower standard than
music and gems! No method this for stretching the rod of empire over
all within the boundary of the sea.
As broad acres yield large crops, so for a nation to be great there
should be a great population; and for soldiers to be daring their
generals should be brave. Not a single clod was added to T`ai-shan in
vain: hence the huge mountain we now behold. The merest streamlet is
received into the bosom of Ocean: hence the Ocean's unfathomable
expanse. And wise and virtuous is the ruler who scorns not the masses
below. For him, no boundaries of realm, no distinctions of nationality
exist. The four seasons enrich him; the Gods bless him; and, like our
rulers of old, no man's hand is against him.
But now it is proposed to deliver over the black-haired people into
the power of the foe. For if strangers are expelled, they will rally
round the feudal princes. The leaders of the age will retire, and none
will step forth to fill the vacant place. It is as though one should
furnish arms to a rebel, or set a premium upon theft.
Many things that are not produced here are nevertheless highly prized.
Countless men who were not born here are nevertheless loyal of heart.
Therefore to dismiss all foreigners will be to make our enemies
strong; for those who suffer expulsion will go to swell the hostile
ranks. There will be but hollowness within and bitterness without; and
danger will never cease to menace the State.
On reading the above, the Prince of Ch`in cancelled the edict
respecting the proscription of foreigners, and I was restored to
office.[1]
----------
[1] "The iniquity of the writer," observes a commentator, "must not
blind us to the beauty of his appeal."
HAN FEI
Died 233 B.C. A student of criminal law and procedure, who rose to
distinction but incurred the enmity of a rival and was thrown into
prison where he committed suicide. Fifty-five of his essays, in a
more or less corrupt state, are still extant, and are especially
valuable as containing many of the sayings attributed to Lao Tzu,
woven later on, sometimes with portions of his own commentary,
into the spurious work known as the /Tao Tê Ching/.
CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES
Of old Mi Tzu-hsia was much attached to the Prince of the Wei State,
where there was a law that any one who should furtively ride in one of
the royal chariots would be punished by having his feet cut off. Now
when Mi's mother was ill and her illness was reported to him, he went
boldly off in one of the Prince's chariots to see her. On hearing of
this, the Prince entirely approved, saying, "Filial piety! For the
sake of his mother he risked the loss of his feet."
On another occasion, Mi was strolling with the Prince in a fruit-
garden; and finding that a peach, of which he had partly eaten, was
unusually sweet, he offered the remaining piece to the Prince. The
Prince said, "Love for me! He forgets himself." Mi's face fell, and
his attachment abated. The Prince added, "He furtively rode off in one
of my chariots, and now he wants to feed me with the balance of his
peach." Mi's second act was inconsistent with his first. By the first
he showed himself to be a good man, and by the second he incurred
punishment, thus illustrating the extreme difference between love and
hate. Thus, when there is love for a ruler, wisdom steps in and
familiarity is increased; but when there is hatred of a ruler, there
comes cause for punishment and the result is alienation. So that when
admonishing a ruler, it becomes necessary to consider the question of
love or hatred before offering advice. A dragon is a deadly reptile
which, however, can be trained to be fit for riding; but if a fishbone
a foot long should stick in its throat and a man should try to remove
it, there would be an end of the man. Now rulers, too, have fishbones
sticking in their throats, and what is the fate of those who try but
fail to remove them?
----------
BRUTALITY v. HUMANITY
Yo Yang was a general in the army of the Wei State. When he attacked
Chung-shan, his son was in the beleaguered city. The prince of Chung-
shan boiled this son alive and sent some of the broth to his father,
who received it sitting in his military headquarters and drank up a
whole cupful. The marquis of Wei, speaking in commendation, said to an
officer, "Yo Yang ate his son's flesh for my sake." "If he ate his own
son," replied the officer, "who is there whom he would not eat?" When
Yo Yang had captured Chung-shan, the marquis duly rewarded him, but
became suspicious of his loyalty.
One day, when Mêng Sun was out hunting, a fawn was captured. Mêng Sun
bade his huntsman put it on a cart and take it home; but the dam
followed and bleated so piteously that the huntsman could not bear to
be unkind to the animal, and let the fawn go. When they got home, Mêng
Sun asked where the fawn was, and the huntsman said, "I could not bear
to be so unkind, and I gave the fawn back to its dam." Mêng Sun was
furious at this, and dismissed the man from his service; but three
months later he recalled him, and appointed him to be tutor to his
son. Upon this, an official of the Court said, "Not long ago, you
punished this man, and now you appoint him to be tutor of your son;
how is this?" Mêng Sun replied, "If he cannot bear to be unkind to an
animal, how will he bear to be unkind to my son?"
Therefore it is said that clever trickery is not equal to stupid
sincerity. Yo Yang was rewarded and became an object of suspicion; the
huntsman was punished and became more trusted than ever.
LIU AN, HUAI-NAN TZU
Died 122 B.C. Ruler of Huai-nan, and grandson of the founder of
the Han dynasty. A student of Taoism under its grosser aspects, he
directed his attention to alchemistic research and to the
discovery of an elixir of immortality. Becoming mixed up in some
treasonable conspiracy, he perished by his own hand.
DOES GOD INTERVENE?
Of old, Shih K`uang played before the Court a piece entitled "White
Snow," the action of which was rendered by a cast of supernatural
beings.[1] Down came a storm of wind and rain; the Duke was stricken
with old age, while afterwards his State became red with drought.
When a woman of the people cried aloud her wrongs to God, thunder and
lightning came down and struck the palace of the Duke to ruins,
crushing his Highness and breaking his limbs, followed by the sea
flooding over the whole.[2]
A blind musician and his wife from the people occupied a very lowly
position, below even that of the humblest official. Nevertheless, with
great earnestness they put aside their personal occupations and
devoted themselves to worshipping the saints, so that their devotion
became known and received encouragement in heaven above.
Thus it is clear that no matter whether isolated in the wilds, or in
concealment at a distance, or in a double-walled stone house, or
separated by intervening obstacles and dangers, there is no place to
which a man can escape from God.
When our Martial King (1122 B.C.) attacked the tyrant Shou, while
crossing the river at the ford of Mêng, the spirit of the wicked
Marquis (who had been drowned there) stirred up the waves to fury
against him, with a bitter wind and so black a pall of darkness that
men and horses could not see one another. Then the Martial King,
grasping in his left hand a golden halberd and in his right hand a
white-tasselled staff, shook them at the river, saying, "I am the
ruler of all under the sky; who dares to cross my path?" Thereupon,
the wind fell and the waves were stilled.
The Duke of the Lu State had become involved in trouble with the Han
State, and a battle was raging fiercely when the sun began to set. The
Duke seized his spear and shook it at the sun, which forthwith went
back three zodiacal spaces in the heavens.
Thus, if we keep our physical nature complete, and preserve our
spirituality, this will allow of no injury to the body. In the hour of
danger or difficulty, such earnestness will appeal to God; and if
there has been no departure from the great archetype,[3] what is there
which cannot be accomplished?
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ON THE NATURE OF TAO
Tao roofs over the sky and is the foundation of the earth; it extends
north, south, east, and west, stretching to the eight extreme points
in those directions. Its height is beyond reach and its depth is
unfathomable; it enfolds both the sky and the earth, and produces
things which had been formless. It is like the flow of a spring, which
starts bubbling up from nothing but gradually forms a volume of
rushing muddy water which again gradually becomes clear. Therefore, if
set vertically, it will block all the space between the sky and the
earth; if set laterally, it will touch the shores of the Four Seas;
inexhaustible by use, it knows neither the fullness of morning nor the
decay of night; dispersed, it fills space; compressed, it is scarce a
handful; scant, it can be ample; dark, it can be light; weak, it can
be strong; soft, it can be hard. Though open on all sides, it contains
two cosmogonical Principles; it binds up the universe, while making
manifest the sun, moon, and stars; it is thick as clay, and yet is
watery; it is infinitesimally fine, and yet it can be subdivided; it
makes mountains rise high and valleys sink low; it makes beasts to
walk, birds to fly, the sun and moon to shine, the stars to move, the
unicorn to come forth, and the phœnix to hover above us.
The first two Emperors of old (3rd millenium B.C.) obtained control of
Tao, and established themselves in the centre of all things (China),
and by their divine influence brought about civilization and gave
peace to the world. Thus, the sky duly turned round, while the earth
stood still, and the wheel of human life revolved without ceasing.
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[1] And therefore blasphemous.
[2] For misgovernment.
[3] Tao. For this writer's conception of Tao, see the following
extract, with which may be compared the views of Chuang Tzu, his
predecessor.
SSU-MA CH`IEN
1st and 2nd Centuries B.C.
Author of the first general /History of China/. The work begins
with the reign of Huang Ti, the Yellow Emperor (2697 B.C.), and
closes with the year 104 B.C., at about the period described in
the subjoined extract. As a youth, Ssu-ma Ch`ien had travelled
widely throughout the empire. He finally settled down as Grand
Astrologer; but his spirited defence of Li Ling (q.v.) when
overthrown and captured by the Huns, brought down upon him the
wrath of the Emperor. He was subjected to the punishment of
mutilation, and ended his days in disgrace. He reformed the
calendar, and determined the chronology which still obtains in
China.
A CENTURY BEFORE CHRIST
(By an eye-witness)
Wealth, vice, corruption,--barbarism at last.
And history, with all her volumes vast,
Hath but /one/ page.
When the House of Han arose, the evils of their predecessors had not
passed away. Husbands still went off to the wars. The old and the