Chapter 2: China
The dates of the selections in this chapter range from approximately the 500s B.C.E. to approximately the 200s B.C.E., which is mostly the Warring States Period in Chinese history (476-221 B.C.E.). During this time period, the different regions of China (each with a separate ruler and tradition) fought to maintain independence and defend their borders. In 221 B.C.E., the Qin/Chin ruler finished the process of unifying China by the sword, becoming the first Emperor. These texts, therefore, predate the unification of China, and some of the advice offered (in particular in the works of Confucius) are meant to be seen in the context of multiple kingdoms; Confucius suggests leaving a kingdom and going elsewhere if the leadership is corrupt, which was no longer possible post-unification.
The works in this chapter are foundational texts to later Chinese literature, politics, and philosophy. The Ana- lects of Confucius, with its focus on ethical and moral issues, provides the reader with a guide to proper behavior (according to Confucius). The Shi king (The Book of Songs/The Book of Odes/The Classic of Poetry) may have been edited by Confucius, according to some sources, and the poems themselves offer a glimpse into the expectations of that society. Daoism, the other influential perspective at that time, is found in the Zhuangzi (both a book and the possible name of the author), which offers a challenge to the Confucian way of thinking. Finally, Sun Tzu’s Art of War remains an influential text to this day, found as it is on the reading lists of military academies everywhere.
Students who are not familiar with Chinese literature and culture often have the same first problem: how to pronounce the names. Chinese is a complex language, so the answer is not straightforward. In Chinese, words must be pronounced using the proper tone. For example, the word “ma” can be pronounced four different ways, and in each case it is a different word.
First tone: Rising tone (start low and go up the scale, like a rising accent mark)
Second tone: Falling tone (start high and drop lower, like a falling accent mark)
Third tone: Falling and Rising tone (begin high, drop low, and rise again, so that the sound is “U” shaped)
Fourth tone: Steady and High tone (high pitched, steady sound)
Since each syllable of the word has a tone, and most translations do not mark which tone to use, there can be no way for students to know how to pronounce the word (except by taking a class in Chinese). Even then, students would have to choose between a class on Mandarin (spoken in the north) and Cantonese (spoken in the south), since they are too different to be taught as the same language. In addition to several major dialects of Chinese, there are numerous sub-dialects: some unintelligible to each other.
An additional challenge for students looking for research on these texts is that the same word can be spelled differently, depending on the pinyin system used. Pinyin is the way that Chinese characters are converted into let- ters, so that the sound of the character is approximated. For example, the Chinese character for “person” looks like a type of wishbone, but it is converted to “ren” in pinyin.
There are two major systems of pinyin (and some minor), and each one uses a different format to approximate sounds; both systems can be found online and in anthologies. The medieval Chinese poet Li Bo can be spelled Li Po or Li Bai, depending on the system used. In fact, the western name for “China” results from a series of translations, beginning with the pinyin “Chin” (more commonly translated as “Qin” these days) to describe the dynasty that unified the country in 221 B.C.E.; in other words, “China” is the land of the Chin/Qin.
As you read, consider the following questions:
What do Confucius and Sun Tzu expect from leaders? What is the proper behavior toward subordinates, and how do you know?
How do Confucian ideals contrast with Daoist ideals? What seems to be the reason for the difference?
What kind of behavior does society expect from its people, particularly in the Shi king (Book of Songs)? How do we know, based on the text?
What is the definition of heroism in these works, based on the texts themselves?
How would a Confucian hero be different from other ancient world heroes in other chapters, and why?
Written by Laura J. Getty
THE ANALECTS
Compiled ca. 200 B.C.E. China
Confucius (551-479 B.C.E.)
Image 2.1: The Teaching Confucius | Portrait of Confucius, one of the world’s most famous philosophers and the creator of Confucianism.
Author: User “Louis le Grand~commonswiki”
Source: Wikimedia Commons
License: Public Domain
Confucius (or “Kongzi” in Chinese) was deeply concerned about the problem of social chaos and explored ways to achieve social order. Inspired by the early rulers of the Zhou Dynasty (ca. 1045-256 B.C.E.), whom he considered exemplary, Confucius developed his philosophy about government, morality, ethics, social roles, and the importance of rituals. As a teacher, Confucius had a great number of disciples during his time. The Analects, translated as “Collected Conversations,” were com- plied by later Confucian scholars, reaching their complete form around the second century B.C.E. The Analects are perhaps the most well-known text in Confucianism, belonging to the so-called “Four Books” of this tra- dition. Confucianism, which is known as Ruxue (Doctrine of the Sages) in China, forms a large part of the basis of many East Asian cultures.
Written by Kyounghye Kwon
2.2.1 The Analects
Confucius, translated by James Legge [1893]
License: Open Access
BOOK I. HSIO R.
Chapter I.
The Master said, ‘Is it not pleasant to learn with a constant perseverance and application? Is it not delightful to have friends coming from distant quarters? Is he not a man of complete virtue, who feels no discomposure though men may take no note of him?’
Chapter IV.
The philosopher Tsang said, ‘I daily examine myself on three points:-- whether, in transacting business for others, I may have been not faithful;-- whether, in intercourse with friends, I may have been not sincere;-- whether I may have not mastered and practised the instructions of my teacher.’
Chapter XI.
The Master said, ‘While a man’s father is alive, look at the bent of his will; when his father is dead, look at his conduct. If for three years he does not alter from the way of his father, he may be called filial.’
BOOK II. WEI CHANG.
Chapter I.
The Master said, ‘He who exercises government by means of his virtue may be compared to the north polar star, which keeps its place and all the stars turn towards it.’
Chapter II.
The Master said, ‘In the Book of Poetry are three hundred pieces, but the design of them all may be embraced in one sentence— “Having no depraved thoughts.”’
Chapter IV.
The Master said, ‘At fifteen, I had my mind bent on learning. At thirty, I stood firm. At forty, I had no doubts. At fifty, I knew the decrees of Heaven. At sixty, my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At seventy, I could follow what my heart desired, without transgressing what was right.’
Chapter VII.
Tsze-yu asked what filial piety was. The Master said, ‘The filial piety of now-a-days means the support of one’s parents. But dogs and horses likewise are able to do something in the way of support;-- without reverence, what is there to distinguish the one support given from the other?’
Chapter XI.
The Master said, ‘If a man keeps cherishing his old knowledge, so as continually to be acquiring new, he may be a teacher of others.’
Chapter XIX.
The Duke Ai asked, saying, ‘What should be done in order to secure the submission of the people?’
Confucius replied, ‘Advance the upright and set aside the crooked, then the people will submit. Advance the crooked and set aside the upright, then the people will not submit.’
BOOK III. PA YIH.
Chapter V.
The Master said, ‘The rude tribes of the east and north have their princes, and are not like the States of our great land which are without them.’
Chapter XXI.
The Duke Ai asked Tsai Wo about the altars of the spirits of the land. Tsai Wo replied, ‘The Hsia sovereign planted the pine tree about them; the men of the Yin planted the cypress; and the men of the Chau planted the chestnut tree, meaning thereby to cause the people to be in awe.’
When the Master heard it, he said, ‘Things that are done, it is needless to speak about; things that have had their course, it is needless to remonstrate about; things that are past, it is needless to blame.’
BOOK IV. LE JIN.
Chapter VIII.
The Master said, ‘If a man in the morning hear the right way, he may die in the evening without regret.’
Chapter XV.
The Master said, ‘Shan, my doctrine is that of an all-pervading unity.’ The disciple Tsang replied, ‘Yes.’
The Master went out, and the other disciples asked, saying, ‘What do his words mean?’
Tsang said, ‘The doctrine of our master is to be true to the principles of our nature and the benevolent exercise of them to others,—this and nothing more.’
BOOK V. KUNG-YE CH’ANG.
Chapter VIII.
The Master said to Tsze-kung, ‘Which do you consider superior, yourself or Hui?’
Tsze-kung replied, ‘How dare I compare myself with Hui? Hui hears one point and knows all about a subject; I hear one point, and know a second.’
The Master said, ‘You are not equal to him. I grant you, you are not equal to him.’
Chapter IX.
Tsai Yu being asleep during the daytime, the Master said, ‘Rotten wood cannot be carved; a wall of dirty earth will not receive the trowel. This Yu!-- what is the use of my reproving him?’ The
Master said, ‘At first, my way with men was to hear their words, and give them credit for their conduct. Now my way is to hear their words, and look at their conduct. It is from Yu that I have learned to make this change.’
Chapter X.
The Master said, ‘I have not seen a firm and unbending man.’ Someone replied, ‘There is Shan Ch’ang.’
‘Ch’ang,’ said the Master, ‘is under the influence of his passions; how can he be pronounced firm and unbending?’
Chapter XIX.
Chi Wan thought thrice, and then acted. When the Master was informed of it, he said, ‘Twice may do.’
Chapter XXV.
Yen Yuan and Chi Lu being by his side, the Master said to them, ‘Come, let each of you tell his wishes.’
Tsze-lu said, ‘I should like, having chariots and horses, and light fur dresses, to share them with my friends, and though they should spoil them, I would not be displeased.’
Yen Yuan said, ‘I should like not to boast of my excellence, nor to make a display of my meritorious deeds.’ Tsze-lu then said, ‘I should like, sir, to hear your wishes.’
The Master said, ‘They are, in regard to the aged, to give them rest; in regard to friends, to show them sincerity; in regard to the young, to treat them tenderly.’
BOOK VI. YUNG YEY.
Chapter II.
The Duke Ai asked which of the disciples loved to learn. Confucius replied to him, ‘There was Yen Hui; He loved to learn. He did not transfer his anger; he did not repeat a fault. Unfortunately, his appointed time was short and he died; and now there is not such another. I have not yet heard of anyone who loves to learn as he did.’
Chapter X.
Yen Ch’iu said, ‘It is not that I do not delight in your doctrines, but my strength is insufficient.’ The Master said, ‘Those whose strength is insufficient give over in the middle of the way but now you limit yourself.’
Chapter XI.
The Master said to Tsze-hsia, ‘Do you be a scholar after the style of the superior man, and not after that of the mean man.’
Chapter XVI.
The Master said, ‘Where the solid qualities are in excess of accomplishments, we have rusticity; where the accomplishments are in excess of the solid qualities, we have the manners of a clerk. When the accomplishments and solid qualities are equally blended, we then have the man of virtue.’
Chapter XVIII.
The Master said, ‘They who know the truth are not equal to those who love it, and they who love it are not equal to those who delight in it.’
Chapter XX.
Fan Ch’ih asked what constituted wisdom. The Master said, ‘To give one’s self earnestly to the duties due to men, and, while respecting spiritual beings, to keep aloof from them, may be called wisdom.’
He asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, ‘The man of virtue makes the difficulty to be overcome his first business, and success only a subsequent consideration;—this may be called perfect virtue.’
Chapter XXI.
The Master said, ‘The wise find pleasure in water; the virtuous find pleasure in hills. The wise are active; the virtuous are tranquil. The wise are joyful; the virtuous are long-lived.’
BOOK VII. SHU R.
Chapter I.
The Master said, ‘A transmitter and not a maker, believing in and loving the ancients, I venture to compare myself with our old P’ang.’
Chapter III.
The Master said, ‘The leaving virtue without proper cultivation; the not thoroughly discussing what is learned; not being able to move towards righteousness of which a knowledge is gained; and not being able to change what is not good:— these are the things which occasion me solicitude.’
Chapter V.
The Master said, ‘Extreme is my decay. For a long time, I have not dreamed, as I was wont to do, that I saw the duke of Chau.’
Chapter XV.
The Master said, ‘With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my bended arm for a pillow;— I have still joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honours acquired by unrighteousness, are to me as a floating cloud.’
Chapter XX.
The subjects on which the Master did not talk, were— extraordinary things, feats of strength, disorder, and spiritual beings.
BOOK VIII. T’AI-PO.
Chapter V.
The philosopher Tsang said, ‘Gifted with ability, and yet putting questions to those who were not so; possessed of much, and yet putting questions to those possessed of little; having, as though he had not; full, and yet counting himself as empty; offended against, and yet entering into no altercation; formerly I had a friend who pursued this style of conduct.’
Chapter VIII.
The Master said, ‘It is by the Odes that the mind is aroused. It is by the Rules of Propriety that the character is established. It is from Music that the finish is received.’
Chapter XIII.
The Master said, ‘With sincere faith he unites the love of learning; holding firm to death, he is perfecting the excellence of his course. Such an one will not enter a tottering State, nor dwell in a disorganized one. When right principles of government prevail in the kingdom, he will show himself; when they are prostrated, he will keep concealed. When a country is well-governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. When a country is ill- governed, riches and honour are things to be ashamed of.’
Chapter XVII.
The Master said, ‘Learn as if you could not reach your object, and were always fearing also lest you should lose it.’
BOOK IX. TSZE HAN.
Chapter V.
The Master was put in fear in K’wang. He said, ‘After the death of King Wan, was not the cause of truth lodged here in me? If Heaven had wished to let this cause of truth perish, then I, a future mortal, should not have got such a relation to that cause. While Heaven does not let the cause of truth perish, what can the people of K’wang do to me?’
Chapter VI.
A high officer asked Tsze-kung, saying, ‘May we not say that your Master is a sage? How various is his ability!’
Tsze-kung said, ‘Certainly Heaven has endowed him unlimitedly. He is about a sage. And, moreover, his ability is various.’
The Master heard of the conversation and said, ‘Does the high officer know me? When I was young, my condition was low, and therefore I acquired my ability in many things, but they were mean matters. Must the superior man have such variety of ability? He does not need variety of ability.’
Lao said, ‘The Master said, “Having no official employment, I acquired many arts.”’
Chapter XI.
The Master being very ill, Tsze-lu wished the disciples to act as ministers to him.
During a remission of his illness, he said, ‘Long has the conduct of Yu been deceitful! By pretending to have ministers when I have them not, whom should I impose upon? Should I impose upon Heaven? Moreover, than that I should die in the hands of ministers, is it not better that I should die in the hands of you, my disciples? And though I may not get a great burial, shall I die upon the road?’
Chapter XIII.
The Master was wishing to go and live among the nine wild tribes of the east. Someone said, ‘They are rude. How can you do such a thing?’
The Master said, ‘If a superior man dwelt among them, what rudeness would there be?’
Chapter XIV.
The Master said, ‘I returned from Wei to Lu, and then the music was reformed, and the pieces in the Royal songs and Praise songs all found their proper places.’
Chapter XVI.
The Master standing by a stream, said, ‘It passes on just like this, not ceasing day or night!’
Chapter XXII.
The Master said, ‘A youth is to be regarded with respect. How do we know that his future will not be equal to our present? If he reach the age of forty or fifty, and has not made himself heard of, then indeed he will not be worth being regarded with respect.’
BOOK X. HEANG TANG.
Chapter II.
When he was waiting at court, in speaking with the great officers of the lower grade, he spake freely, but in a straightforward manner; in speaking with those of the higher grade, he did so blandly, but precisely. When the ruler was present, his manner displayed respectful uneasiness; it was grave, but self-possessed.
Chapter IV.
When he entered the palace gate, he seemed to bend his body, as if it were not sufficient to admit him. When he was standing, he did not occupy the middle of the gate-way; when he passed in or out, he did not tread upon the threshold. When he was passing the vacant place of the prince, his countenance appeared to change, and his legs to bend under him, and his words came as if he hardly had breath to utter them. He ascended the reception hall, holding up his robe with both his hands, and his body bent; holding in his breath also, as if he dared not breathe. When he came out from the audience, as soon as he had descended one step, he began to relax his countenance, and had a satisfied look. When he had got to the bottom of the steps, he advanced rapidly to his place, with his arms like wings, and on occupying it, his manner still showed respectful uneasiness.
BOOK XI. HSIEN TSIN.
Chapter IX.
When Yen Yuan died, the Master bewailed him exceedingly, and the disciples who were with him said, ‘Master, your grief is excessive?’
‘Is it excessive?’ said he.
‘If I am not to mourn bitterly for this man, for whom should I mourn?’
Chapter X.
When Yen Yuan died, the disciples wished to give him a great funeral, and the Master said, ‘You may not do so.’ The disciples did bury him in great style.
The Master said, ‘Hui behaved towards me as his father. I have not been able to treat him as my son. The fault is not mine; it belongs to you, O disciples.’
BOOK XII. YEN YUAN.
Chapter II.
Chung-kung asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, ‘It is, when you go abroad, to behave to every one as if you were receiving a great guest; to employ the people as if you were assisting at a great sacrifice; not to do to others as you would not wish done to yourself; to have no murmuring against you in the country, and none in the family.’ Chung-kung said, ‘Though I am deficient in intelligence and vigour, I will make it my business to practise this lesson.’
Chapter V.
Sze-ma Niu, full of anxiety, said, ‘Other men all have their brothers, I only have not.’
Tsze-hsia said to him, ‘There is the following saying which I have heard:—’“Death and life have their determined appointment; riches and honours depend upon Heaven.”
‘Let the superior man never fail reverentially to order his own conduct, and let him be respectful to others and observant of propriety:— then all within the four seas will be his brothers. What has the superior man to do with being distressed because he has no brothers?’
Chapter VII.
Tsze-kung asked about government. The Master said, ‘The requisites of government are that there be sufficiency of food, sufficiency of military equipment, and the confidence of the people in their ruler.’
Tsze-kung said, ‘If it cannot be helped, and one of these must be dispensed with, which of the three should be foregone first?’ ‘The military equipment,’ said the Master.
Tsze-kung again asked, ‘If it cannot be helped, and one of the remaining two must be dispensed with, which of them should be foregone?’
The Master answered, ‘Part with the food. From of old, death has been the lot of all men; but if the people have no faith in their rulers, there is no standing for the state.’
Chapter XI.
The Duke Ching, of Ch’i, asked Confucius about government.
Confucius replied, ‘There is government, when the prince is prince, and the minister is minister; when the father is father, and the son is son.’
‘Good!’ said the duke; ‘if, indeed; the prince be not prince, the minister not minister, the father not father, and the son not son, although I have my revenue, can I enjoy it?’
Chapter XVIII.
Chi K’ang, distressed about the number of thieves in the state, inquired of Confucius how to do away with them.
Confucius said, ‘If you, sir, were not covetous, although you should reward them to do it, they would not steal.’
Chapter XIX.
Chi K’ang asked Confucius about government, saying, ‘What do you say to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?’ Confucius replied, ‘Sir, in carrying on your government, why should you use killing at all? Let your evinced desires be for what is good, and the people will be good. The relation between superiors and infe- riors, is like that between the wind and the grass. The grass must bend, when the wind blows across it.’
BOOK XIV. HSIEN WAN.
Chapter XXV.
The Master said, ‘In ancient times, men learned with a view to their own improvement. Now-a- days, men learn with a view to the approbation of others.’
Chapter XXXVII.
The Master said, ‘Alas! there is no one that knows me.’
Tsze-kung said, ‘What do you mean by thus saying— that no one knows you?’
The Master replied, ‘I do not murmur against Heaven. I do not grumble against men. My studies lie low, and my penetration rises high. But there is Heaven;— that knows me!’
Chapter XLI.
Tsze-lu happening to pass the night in Shih-man, the gatekeeper said to him, ‘Whom do you come from?’ Tsze-lu said, ‘From Mr. K’ung [Confucius].’
‘It is he,— is it not?’— said the other, ‘who knows the impracticable nature of the times and yet will be doing in them.’
Chapter XLVI.
Yuan Zang was squatting on his heels, and so waited the approach of the Master, who said to him, ‘In youth not humble as befits a junior; in manhood, doing nothing worthy of being handed down; and living on to old age:— this is to be a pest.’ With this he hit him on the shank with his staff.
BOOK XVII. YANG HO.
Chapter IV.
The Master, having come to Wu-ch’ang, heard there the sound of stringed instruments and singing. Well pleased and smiling, he said, ‘Why use an ox knife to kill a fowl?’
Tsze-yu replied, ‘Formerly, Master, I heard you say,-- “When the man of high station is well instructed, he loves men; when the man of low station is well instructed, he is easily ruled.”’
The Master said, ‘My disciples, Yen’s words are right. What I said was only in sport.’
Chapter IX.
The Master said, ‘My children, why do you not study the Book of Poetry? The Odes serve to stimulate the mind.
They may be used for purposes of self-contemplation. They teach the art of sociability. They show how to regulate feelings of resentment. From them you learn the more immediate duty of serving one’s father, and the remoter one of serving one’s prince. From them we become largely acquainted with the names of birds, beasts, and plants.’
Chapter XIX.
The Master said, ‘I would prefer not speaking.’
Tsze-kung said, ‘If you, Master, do not speak, what shall we, your disciples, have to record?’
The Master said, ‘Does Heaven speak? The four seasons pursue their courses, and all things are continually being produced, but does Heaven say anything?’
Chapter XXI.
Tsai Wo asked about the three years’ mourning for parents, saying that one year was long enough. ‘If the superior man,’ said he, ‘abstains for three years from the observances of propriety, those observances will be quite lost.
If for three years he abstains from music, music will be ruined. Within a year the old grain is exhausted, and the new grain has sprung up, and, in procuring fire by friction, we go through all the changes of wood for that purpose. After a complete year, the mourning may stop.’
The Master said, ‘If you were, after a year, to eat good rice, and wear embroidered clothes, would you feel at ease?’
‘I should,’ replied Wo.
The Master said, ‘If you can feel at ease, do it. But a superior man, during the whole period of mourning, does not enjoy pleasant food which he may eat, nor derive pleasure from music which he may hear. He also does not feel at ease, if he is comfortably lodged. Therefore he does not do what you propose. But now you feel at ease and may do it.’
Tsai Wo then went out, and the Master said, ‘This shows Yu’s want of virtue. It is not till a child is three years old that it is allowed to leave the arms of its parents. And the three years’ mourning is universally observed throughout the empire. Did Yu enjoy the three years’ love of his parents?’
BOOK XVIII. WEI TSZE.
Chapter V.
The madman of Ch’u, Chieh-yu, passed by Confucius, singing and saying, ‘O FANG! O FANG! How is your virtue degenerated! As to the past, reproof is useless; but the future may still be provided against. Give up your vain pursuit. Give up your vain pursuit. Peril awaits those who now engage in affairs of government.’ Confucius alighted and wished to converse with him, but Chieh-yu hastened away, so that he could not talk with him.
Chapter VI.
Ch’ang-tsu and Chieh-ni were at work in the field together, when Confucius passed by them, and sent Tsze-lu to inquire for the ford.
Ch’ang-tsu said, ‘Who is he that holds the reins in the carriage there?’ Tsze-lu told him, ‘It is Confucius.’
‘Is it not Confucius of Lu?’ asked [Ch’ang-tsu].
‘Yes.’
‘He knows the ford [already].’
Tsze-lu then inquired of Chieh-ni, who said to him, ‘Who are you, sir?’
He answered, ‘I am Chung Yu.’
‘Are you not the disciple of Confucius of Lu?’ asked the other.
‘I am.’
‘Disorder, like a swelling flood, spreads over the whole empire, and who is he that will change its state for you? Than follow one who merely withdraws from this one and that one, had you not better follow those who have withdrawn from the world altogether?’ With this he fell to covering up the seed, and proceeded with his work, without stopping.
Tsze-lu went and reported their remarks, when the Master observed with a sigh, ‘It is impossible to associate with birds and beasts, as if they were the same with us. If I associate not with these people,-- with mankind,—with whom shall I associate? If right principles prevailed through the empire, there would be no use for me to change its state.’
THE ART OF WAR
Sun Tzu
Probably 6th century B.C.E.
China
Sun Tzu’s Art of War is still studied in military academies around the world, including the US military academies (USMA, USNA, and USAFA), and it is taught in business schools and law schools as a manual on how to get ahead of the competition. While scholars argue about when Sun Tzu lived (or whether he was using an older text, or even whether someone named Sun Tzu existed), the impact that the work has had is undeniable. The work is both a military treatise and a philosophical argument about the nature of humanity. Unlike previous strategists, “Sun-Tzu had no patience with the protracted games generals seemed to enjoy playing with each other. Once hos- tilities had erupted, one’s priority was to defeat the enemy, not indulge oneself in chivalry which could only prolong the conflict and cost more lives.” (Mark)
In Confucian thinking, everyone has an assigned place in society, with strict expectations for behavior that could potentially limit creative/unusual responses. Sun Tzu’s approach to warfare is Daoist in nature, rather than Confucian “by adapting oneself to one’s situation, rather than rigidly holding fast to how one thinks things should be, one is able to recognize the fluidity of conditions and act upon them decisively.” (Mark)
It is therefore Sun Tzu’s skill as a Daoist philosopher that guides the work and provides the reader with an insightful view of human nature.
Written by Laura J. Getty
2.3.1 The Art of War
Sun Tzu, Translated by Lionel Giles
License: Public Domain
Image 2.2: Bamboo Book-Binding | A copy of The Art of War in Chinese bamboo binding.
Author: User “vlasta2”
Source: Wikimedia Commons
License: CC BY 2.0
Introduction
Ssu-ma Ch’ien gives the following biography of Sun Tzu:
Sun Tzu Wu was a native of the Ch’i State. His ART OF WAR brought him to the notice of Ho Lu, King of Wu. Ho Lu said to him: “I have carefully perused your 13 chapters. May I submit your theory of managing soldiers to a slight test?”
Sun Tzu replied: “You may.”
Ho Lu asked: “May the test be applied to women?”
The answer was again in the affirmative, so arrangements were made to bring 180 ladies out of the Palace. Sun Tzu divided them into two companies, and placed one of the King’s favorite concubines at the head of each. He then bade them all take spears in their hands, and addressed them thus: “I presume you know the difference between front and back, right hand and left hand?”
The girls replied: “Yes.”
Sun Tzu went on: “When I say ‘Eyes front,’ you must look straight ahead. When I say ‘Left turn,’ you must face towards your left hand. When I say ‘Right turn,’ you must face towards your right hand. When I say ‘About turn,’ you must face right round towards your back.”
Again the girls assented. The words of command having been thus explained, he set up the halberds and battle-axes in order to begin the drill. Then, to the sound of drums, he gave the order “Right turn.” But the girls only burst out laughing. Sun Tzu said: “If words of command are not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly understood, then the general is to blame.”
So he started drilling them again, and this time gave the order “Left turn,” where- upon the girls once more burst into fits of laughter. Sun Tzu: “If words of command are not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly understood, the general is to blame. But if his orders ARE clear, and the soldiers nevertheless disobey, then it is the fault of their officers.”
So saying, he ordered the leaders of the two companies to be beheaded. Now the king of Wu was watching the scene from the top of a raised pavilion; and when he saw that his favorite concubines were about to be executed, he was greatly alarmed and hurriedly sent down the following message: “We are now quite satisfied as to our general’s ability to handle troops. If We are bereft of these two concubines, our meat and drink will lose their savor. It is our wish that they shall not be beheaded.”
Sun Tzu replied: “Having once received His Majesty’s commission to be the general of his forces, there are cer- tain commands of His Majesty which, acting in that capacity, I am unable to accept.”
Accordingly, he had the two leaders beheaded, and straightway installed the pair next in order as leaders in their place. When this had been done, the drum was sounded for the drill once more; and the girls went through all the evolutions, turning to the right or to the left, marching ahead or wheeling back, kneeling or standing, with perfect accuracy and precision, not venturing to utter a sound. Then Sun Tzu sent a messenger to the King saying: “Your soldiers, Sire, are now properly drilled and disciplined, and ready for your majesty’s inspection. They can be put to any use that their sovereign may desire; bid them go through fire and water, and they will not disobey.”
But the King replied: “Let our general cease drilling and return to camp. As for us, We have no wish to come down and inspect the troops.”
Thereupon Sun Tzu said: “The King is only fond of words, and cannot translate them into deeds.”
After that, Ho Lu saw that Sun Tzu was one who knew how to handle an army, and finally appointed him general. In the west, he defeated the Ch’u State and forced his way into Ying, the capital; to the north he put fear into the States of Ch’i and Chin, and spread his fame abroad amongst the feudal princes. And Sun Tzu shared in the might of the King.
I. Laying Plans
1. Sun Tzu said: The art of war is of vital importance to the State.
2. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.
3. The art of war, then, is governed by five constant factors, to be taken into account in one’s deliberations, when seeking to determine the conditions obtaining in the field.
4. These are: (1) The Moral Law; (2) Heaven; (3) Earth; (4) The Commander; (5) Method and Discipline.
5, 6. The MORAL LAW causes the people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger.
7. HEAVEN signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and seasons.
8. EARTH comprises distances, great and small; danger and security; open ground and narrow passes; the chances of life and death.
9. The COMMANDER stands for the virtues of wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage, and strictness.
10. By METHOD AND DISCIPLINE are to be understood the marshaling of the army in its proper subdivisions, the graduations of rank among the officers, the maintenance of roads by which supplies may reach the army, and the control of military expenditure.
11. These five heads should be familiar to every general: he who knows them will be victorious; he who knows them not will fail.
12. Therefore, in your deliberations, when seeking to determine the military conditions, let them be made the basis of a comparison, in this wise:—
13. (1) Which of the two sovereigns is imbued with the Moral law? (2) Which of the two generals has most ability?
With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth? (4) On which side is discipline most rigor- ously enforced? (5) Which army is stronger? (6) On which side are officers and men more highly trained? (7) In which army is there the greater constancy both in reward and punishment?
14. By means of these seven considerations I can forecast victory or defeat.
15. The general that hearkens to my counsel and acts upon it, will conquer:—let such a one be retained in com- mand! The general that hearkens not to my counsel nor acts upon it, will suffer defeat:—let such a one be dismissed!
16. While heading the profit of my counsel, avail yourself also of any helpful circumstances over and beyond the ordinary rules.
17. According as circumstances are favorable, one should modify one’s plans.
18. All warfare is based on deception.
19. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
20. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.
21. If he is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him.
22. If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.
23. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them.
24. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.
25. These military devices, leading to victory, must not be divulged beforehand.
26. Now the general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand. Thus do many calculations lead to victory, and few calculations to defeat: how much more no calculation at all! It is by attention to this point that I can foresee who is likely to win or lose.
II. Waging War
1. Sun Tzu said: In the operations of war, where there are in the field a thousand swift chariots, as many heavy chariots, and a hundred thousand mail-clad soldiers with provisions enough to carry them a thousand LI the expenditure at home and at the front, including entertainment of guests, small items such as glue and paint, and sums spent on chariots and armor, will reach the total of a thousand ounces of silver per day. Such is the cost of raising an army of 100,000 men.
2. When you engage in actual fighting, if victory is long in coming, then men’s weapons will grow dull and their ardor will be damped. If you lay siege to a town, you will exhaust your strength.
3. Again, if the campaign is protracted, the resources of the State will not be equal to the strain.
4. Now, when your weapons are dulled, your ardor damped, your strength exhausted and your treasure spent, other chieftains will spring up to take advantage of your extremity. Then no man, however wise, will be able to avert the consequences that must ensue.
5. Thus, though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays.
6. There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare.
7. It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.
8. The skillful soldier does not raise a second levy, neither are his supply-wagons loaded more than twice.
9. Bring war material with you from home, but forage on the enemy. Thus the army will have food enough for its needs.
10. Poverty of the State exchequer causes an army to be maintained by contributions from a distance. Contributing to maintain an army at a distance causes the people to be impoverished.
11. On the other hand, the proximity of an army causes prices to go up; and high prices cause the people’s substance to be drained away.
12. When their substance is drained away, the peasantry will be afflicted by heavy exactions.
13, 14. With this loss of substance and exhaustion of strength, the homes of the people will be stripped bare, and three-tenths of their income will be dissipated; while government expenses for broken chariots, worn-out hors- es, breast-plates and helmets, bows and arrows, spears and shields, protective mantles, draught-oxen and heavy wagons, will amount to four-tenths of its total revenue.
15. Hence a wise general makes a point of foraging on the enemy. One cartload of the enemy’s provisions is equiv- alent to twenty of one’s own, and likewise a single PICUL of his provender is equivalent to twenty from one’s own store.
16. Now in order to kill the enemy, our men must be roused to anger; that there may be advantage from defeating the enemy, they must have their rewards.
17. Therefore in chariot fighting, when ten or more chariots have been taken, those should be rewarded who took the first. Our own flags should be substituted for those of the enemy, and the chariots mingled and used in con- junction with ours. The captured soldiers should be kindly treated and kept.
18. This is called, using the conquered foe to augment one’s own strength.
19. In war, then, let your great object be victory, not lengthy campaigns.
20. Thus it may be known that the leader of armies is the arbiter of the people’s fate, the man on whom it depends whether the nation shall be in peace or in peril.
III. Attack by Stratagem
Sun Tzu said: In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy’s country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good. So, too, it is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or a company entire than to destroy them.
2. Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.
3. Thus the highest form of generalship is to balk the enemy’s plans; the next best is to prevent the junction of the enemy’s forces; the next in order is to attack the enemy’s army in the field; and the worst policy of all is to be- siege walled cities.
4. The rule is, not to besiege walled cities if it can possibly be avoided. The preparation of mantlets, movable shel- ters, and various implements of war, will take up three whole months; and the piling up of mounds over against the walls will take three months more.
5. The general, unable to control his irritation, will launch his men to the assault like swarming ants, with the result that one-third of his men are slain, while the town still remains untaken. Such are the disastrous effects of a siege.
6. Therefore the skillful leader subdues the enemy’s troops without any fighting; he captures their cities without laying siege to them; he overthrows their kingdom without lengthy operations in the field.
7. With his forces intact he will dispute the mastery of the Empire, and thus, without losing a man, his triumph will be complete. This is the method of attacking by stratagem.
8. It is the rule in war, if our forces are ten to the enemy’s one, to surround him; if five to one, to attack him; if twice as numerous, to divide our army into two.
9. If equally matched, we can offer battle; if slightly inferior in numbers, we can avoid the enemy; if quite unequal in every way, we can flee from him.
10. Hence, though an obstinate fight may be made by a small force, in the end it must be captured by the larger force.
11. Now the general is the bulwark of the State; if the bulwark is complete at all points, the State will be strong; if the bulwark is defective, the State will be weak.
12. There are three ways in which a ruler can bring misfortune upon his army:—
13. (1) By commanding the army to advance or to retreat, being ignorant of the fact that it cannot obey. This is called hobbling the army.
14. (2) By attempting to govern an army in the same way as he administers a kingdom, being ignorant of the condi- tions which obtain in an army. This causes restlessness in the soldier’s minds.
15. (3) By employing the officers of his army without discrimination, through ignorance of the military principle of adaptation to circumstances. This shakes the confidence of the soldiers.
16. But when the army is restless and distrustful, trouble is sure to come from the other feudal princes. This is sim- ply bringing anarchy into the army, and flinging victory away.
17. Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory: (1) He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. (2) He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. (3) He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks. (4) He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared. (5) He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.
18. Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
IV. Tactical Dispositions
1. Sun Tzu said: The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.
2. To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.
3. Thus the good fighter is able to secure himself against defeat, but cannot make certain of defeating the enemy.
4. Hence the saying: One may KNOW how to conquer without being able to DO it.
5. Security against defeat implies defensive tactics; ability to defeat the enemy means taking the offensive.
6. Standing on the defensive indicates insufficient strength; attacking, a superabundance of strength.
7. The general who is skilled in defense hides in the most secret recesses of the earth; he who is skilled in attack flashes forth from the topmost heights of heaven. Thus on the one hand we have ability to protect ourselves; on the other, a victory that is complete.
8. To see victory only when it is within the ken of the common herd is not the acme of excellence.
9. Neither is it the acme of excellence if you fight and conquer and the whole Empire says, “Well done!”
10. To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear.
11. What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but excels in winning with ease.
12. Hence his victories bring him neither reputation for wisdom nor credit for courage.
13. He wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.
14. Hence the skillful fighter puts himself into a position which makes defeat impossible, and does not miss the moment for defeating the enemy.
15. Thus it is that in war the victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won, whereas he who is destined to defeat first fights and afterwards looks for victory.
16. The consummate leader cultivates the moral law and strictly adheres to method and discipline; thus it is in his power to control success.
17. In respect of military method, we have, firstly, Measurement; secondly, Estimation of quantity; thirdly, Calcula- tion; fourthly, Balancing of chances; fifthly, Victory.
18. Measurement owes its existence to Earth; Estimation of quantity to Measurement; Calculation to Estimation of quantity; Balancing of chances to Calculation; and Victory to Balancing of chances.
19. A victorious army opposed to a routed one, is as a pound’s weight placed in the scale against a single grain.
20. The onrush of a conquering force is like the bursting of pent-up waters into a chasm a thousand fathoms deep.
VI. Weak Points and Strong
1. Sun Tzu said: Whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight; whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted.
2. Therefore the clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him.
3. By holding out advantages to him, he can cause the enemy to approach of his own accord; or, by inflicting dam- age, he can make it impossible for the enemy to draw near.
4. If the enemy is taking his ease, he can harass him; if well supplied with food, he can starve him out; if quietly encamped, he can force him to move.
5. Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected.
6. An army may march great distances without distress, if it marches through country where the enemy is not.
7. You can be sure of succeeding in your attacks if you only attack places which are undefended. You can ensure the safety of your defense if you only hold positions that cannot be attacked.
8. Hence that general is skillful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skillful in de- fense whose opponent does not know what to attack.
9. O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible; and hence we can hold the enemy’s fate in our hands.
10. You may advance and be absolutely irresistible, if you make for the enemy’s weak points; you may retire and be safe from pursuit if your movements are more rapid than those of the enemy.
11. If we wish to fight, the enemy can be forced to an engagement even though he be sheltered behind a high ram- part and a deep ditch. All we need do is attack some other place that he will be obliged to relieve.
12. If we do not wish to fight, we can prevent the enemy from engaging us even though the lines of our encamp- ment be merely traced out on the ground. All we need do is to throw something odd and unaccountable in his way.
13. By discovering the enemy’s dispositions and remaining invisible ourselves, we can keep our forces concentrated, while the enemy’s must be divided.
14. We can form a single united body, while the enemy must split up into fractions. Hence there will be a whole pitted against separate parts of a whole, which means that we shall be many to the enemy’s few.
15. And if we are able thus to attack an inferior force with a superior one, our opponents will be in dire straits.
16. The spot where we intend to fight must not be made known; for then the enemy will have to prepare against a possible attack at several different points; and his forces being thus distributed in many directions, the numbers we shall have to face at any given point will be proportionately few.
17. For should the enemy strengthen his van, he will weaken his rear; should he strengthen his rear, he will weaken his van; should he strengthen his left, he will weaken his right; should he strengthen his right, he will weaken his left. If he sends reinforcements everywhere, he will everywhere be weak.
18. Numerical weakness comes from having to prepare against possible attacks; numerical strength, from compel- ling our adversary to make these preparations against us.
19. Knowing the place and the time of the coming battle, we may concentrate from the greatest distances in order to fight.
20. But if neither time nor place be known, then the left wing will be impotent to succor the right, the right equally impotent to succor the left, the van unable to relieve the rear, or the rear to support the van. How much more so if the furthest portions of the army are anything under a hundred LI apart, and even the nearest are separated by several LI!
21. Though according to my estimate the soldiers of Yueh exceed our own in number, that shall advantage them nothing in the matter of victory. I say then that victory can be achieved.
22. Though the enemy be stronger in numbers, we may prevent him from fighting. Scheme so as to discover his plans and the likelihood of their success.
23. Rouse him, and learn the principle of his activity or inactivity. Force him to reveal himself, so as to find out his vulnerable spots.
24. Carefully compare the opposing army with your own, so that you may know where strength is superabundant and where it is deficient.
25. In making tactical dispositions, the highest pitch you can attain is to conceal them; conceal your dispositions, and you will be safe from the prying of the subtlest spies, from the machinations of the wisest brains.
26. How victory may be produced for them out of the enemy’s own tactics—that is what the multitude cannot com- prehend.
27. All men can see the tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved.
28. Do not repeat the tactics which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances.
29. Military tactics are like unto water; for water in its natural course runs away from high places and hastens downwards.
30. So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong and to strike at what is weak.
31. Water shapes its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flows; the soldier works out his vic- tory in relation to the foe whom he is facing.
32. Therefore, just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions.
33. He who can modify his tactics in relation to his opponent and thereby succeed in winning, may be called a heaven-born captain.
34. The five elements (water, fire, wood, metal, earth) are not always equally predominant; the four seasons make way for each other in turn. There are short days and long; the moon has its periods of waning and waxing.
THE BOOK OF SONGS
Existed before Confucius (born around 551 B.C.E.)
China
The Book of Songs (the Shi king, also translated as The Classic of Poetry and The Book of Odes) is a collection of poems written by various anonymous authors over several centuries. Traditionally, Confucius has been credited as the editor of the collection, and it was part of the canon of Confucian works that scholars were expected to study. Scholars debate how much influence Confucius may have had on them; one theory is that he took a much larger work (possibly several thousand poems) and chose just over three hundred to form the standard version that exists today. Poetry collections in China were meant to represent the voice of the people (male and female, all social class- es). The poems capture moments in time, speaking to the reader about the problems and joys of individuals who were not necessarily the rulers or heroes of other stories.
Written by Laura J. Getty
2.4.1 The Shi King, the old “poetry Classic” of the Chinese [The Book of Songs]
Translated by William Jennings
License: Public Domain
BOOK II.: THE ODES OF SHÂU AND THE SOUTH.
The Wedding-Journey of a Princess
The magpie has a nest;
The dove yet takes possession.—
Lo! the young bride departs,
In many-wheeled procession.
The magpie has a nest;
The dove yet there will quarter.—
Lo! the young bride departs;
And countless cars escort her.
The magpie has a nest;
The dove will fill it (quickly).—
Lo! the young bride departs,
With chariots mustered thickly.
A Reverent Helpmate
There gathers she the fragrant herb
Along the islets, by the pools,
To mingle with the votive gifts
Of him that o’er the princedom rules.
There gathers she the fragrant herb
Amid the mountain streams again,
To mingle with the votive gifts
Her prince will offer in the fane.
With head-gear all erect and high
Ere dawn the temple she attends;
With head-gear all uncared for now
Back to her place her way she wends.
A Long-Absent Husband
Now the crickets chirp and grind;
And the hoppers spring and fly.
But my lord not yet I find;
Ay, and sore at heart am I.
O to see him once again!
O to meet him once again!
Stilled were then the swelling sigh.
Climbed I yonder up South Hill,
Plucked sweet brackens as I went.
But my lord I saw not still;
Loud was yet my heart’s lament.
O to see him once again!
O to meet him once again!
So my heart were well content.
Climbed I yonder up South Hill,
Now to pluck the royal fern.
Yet my lord I saw not still;
Still my heart must pine and yearn.
O to see him once again!
O to meet him once again!
So my heart’s-ease might return.
The Young Wife’s Zealous Care in the Worship of her Husband’s Ancestors
She goes to gather water-wort,
Beside the streams south of the hills;
She goes to gather water-grass
Along the swollen roadside rills;
Goes now to store her gathered herbs
In basket round, in basket square;
Goes now to seethe and simmer them
In tripod and in cauldron there;
Pours out libations of them all
Beneath the light within the Hall.—
And who is she—so occupied?
—Who, but (our lord’s) young pious bride?
In Memory of a Worthy Chieftain
O pear-tree, with thy leafy shade!
Ne’er be thou cut, ne’er be thou laid;—
Once under thee Shâu’s chieftain stayed.
O pear-tree, with thy leafy crest,
Ne’er may they cut thee, ne’er molest;—
Shâu’s chief beneath thee once found rest.
O pear-tree, with thy leafy shroud,
Ne’er be those branches cut, nor bowed,
That shelter to Shâu’s chief allowed.
The Resisted Suitor
All soaking was the path with dew.
And was it not scarce daybreak, too?
I say: the path was drenched with dew.
Who says the sparrow has no horn?
How bores it then into my dwelling?
Who says of thee, thou art forlorn?
Why then this forcing and compelling?
But force, compel me, do thy will:
Husband and wife we are not still.
Who says of rats, they have no teeth?
How do they bore then through my wall?
Who says of thee, thou art forlorn?
Why force me then into this brawl?
But force me, sue me,—even so,
With thee I do not mean to go!
Dignity and Economy of King Wăn’s Councillors
Clad in lambskin or in sheepskin,
Five white silken seams that show,
To their meal from court retiring,
With what dignity they go!
Bare of wool, the lamb or sheepskin
Five white sutures may reveal,
Still with dignity retire they
From their Master to their meal.
Though the skins, now rent in patches,
Five white silken seams require,
Still with dignity the wearers
To their meal from Court retire.
The Lonely Wife
Hearken! there is thunder
On South Hill’s lofty crest.
Hence why must he wander,
Nor dare a moment rest?
True-hearted husband, fain, oh fain
Were I to see thee home again.
Hearken! now the thunder
Rolls lower on South Hill.
Hence why must he wander,
Nor ever dare be still?
True-hearted husband, fain, oh fain
Were I to have thee home again.
Hearken! now the thunder
Is down upon the plain.
Hence why must he wander,
Nor dare awhile remain?
True-hearted husband, fain, oh fain
Were I to find thee home again.
Fears Of Mature Maidenhood
Though shaken be the damson-tree,
Left on it yet are seven, O.
Ye gentlemen who care for me,
Take chance while chance is given, O.
Though shaken be the damson-tree,
Yet three are still remaining, O.
Ye gentlemen who care for me,
Now, now; the time is waning, O.
Ah, shaken is the damson-tree,
And all are in the basket, O.
Ye gentlemen who care for me,
Your question—would ye ask it, O!
Contented Concubines
Starlets dim are yonder peeping,—
In the East are five, and three.
Softly, where our lord is (sleeping),
Soon or late by night go we.
Some have high, some low degree.
Starlets dim are yonder peeping,—
Pleiades, Orion’s band.
Softly nightly go we creeping,
Quilt and coverlet in hand.
Some take high, some lower stand.
Jealousy Overcome
The Kiang has arms that wayward wind.
Our lady erst as bride
Our help declined,
Our help declined;—
Anon she was of other mind.
The Kiang has banks within its bed.
Our lady erst as bride
Our presence fled,
Our presence fled;—
Anon a calmer life she led.
The Kiang has creeks that leave it long.
Our lady erst as bride
Spurned all our throng,
Spurned all our throng;—
Her sneering now is turned to song.
The Cunning Hunter
In the wild there lies a dead gazelle,
With the reed-grass round it wrapt;
And a maid who loveth springtide well
By a winsome youth is trapped.
In the wood thick undergrowth is found,
In the wild the dead gazelle,
With the reed-grass round its body bound;—
And the maid she looketh well.
“Ah! gently, not so fast, good sir;
My kerchief, prithee, do not stir;
Nor rouse the barking of my cur.”
A Royal Wedding
What radiant bloom is there!
Blossoms of cherry wild.
What care attends the equipage
Of her, the royal child!
What radiance! Like the bloom
Of peach and plum in one!
Granddaughter of the Just King she,
He a true noble’s son.
How was the bait then laid?
’Twas trimmed with silken twine.
He the true noble’s son (thus caught)
Her of the Just King’s line!
The Tsow Yu
Out there where the reeds grow rank and tall,
One round he shoots, five wild boars fall.
Hail the Tsow Yu!
And there where the grass is waving high,
One round he shoots, five wild hogs die.
Hail the Tsow Yu!
Note.—Although this is one of the shortest and apparently most trivial of the Odes in the Book of Poetry, it is credited by the Chinese editors with as much meaning as the largest. It is regarded, like so many more, as illustrat- ing the extent of the reformation brought about by King Wăn. Not only was the kingdom better ruled, society better regulated, and individuals more self-disciplined and improved in manners, but the reformation affected all things: vegetation flourished, game became most abundant, hunting was attended to at the right seasons, and the benign influence of the King was everywhere felt by the people. The poet thinks it is sufficient to dwell upon these last char- acteristics. Probably the lines were written after some royal hunt.
BOOK III.: THE ODES OF P‘EI.
P‘ei was one of three principalities which King Wu created after he overthrew the dynasty of Shang. It was in the north; and the two others were—Yung in the south, and Wei in the west. P‘ei and Yung were, after a short time, absorbed in Wei, which had a long history. We have, in Books III., IV. and V. titles taken from all three; but evident- ly the division is only artificial: the three Books might all have been included properly under the title Wei, since it is that State with which all are connected.
Derelict
The cedar boat is drifting,
On currents never still.
Sleepless I lie, vexed inly,
As with some unknown ill.
’Tis not that wine is wanting,
Or leave to roam at will.
My heart is no mere mirror
That cannot comprehend.
Brothers I have, but may not
On brothers e’en depend.
Tush! when I go complaining
’Tis only to offend.
No stone this heart of mine is,
That may be turned and rolled;
No mat this heart of mine is,
To fold or to unfold.
Steadfast and strict my life is;
Nought ’gainst it can be told.
Yet here I sit in sorrow,
Scorned by a rabble crew.
My troubles have been many,
My insults not a few.
Calmly I think—then, starting,
I beat my breast anew.
O moon, why now the brighter?
O sun, why now dost wane?
My heart wears grief as garments
Inured to soil and stain.
Calmly I think—then, starting,
Would fly—but all in vain.
Supplanted
Green now my robe!
Green, lined with yellow.
Ah! when shall Grief
Be not my fellow!
Green is the robe;
Yellow the skirt!
Ah! when shall Grief
Nevermore hurt!
Green is the silk;
Ruled so by you.—
Guide me, ye ancients!
Harm lest I do.
Lawn, fine or coarse,
Chills in the wind.—
Guide me, ye ancients!
Save me my mind.
Friends In Distress
O the swallows onward flying,
Wings aslant, irregular!
O the lady homeward hieing;
O’er the wilds escort her far.
Gaze I till I gaze in vain,
And my tears are like the rain.
O the swallows onward flying,
Soaring upward, darting low!
O the lady homeward hieing;
Far then let her escort go.
Gaze I till I gaze in vain;
Long I stand and weep amain.
O the swallows onward flying,
High and low, with twittering mouth!
O the lady homeward hieing;
Far escort her to the South.
Gaze I till I gaze in vain,
And my heart scarce bears the pain.
Lady Chung—on love relying,
And of feelings true and deep,
Ever sweet and much-complying,
Strict, yet, self-respect to keep—
Thoughtful of the dead she:
Bright example to poor me!
Clouds Gathering
O sun, O moon, ye downwards turn
To earth your glorious gaze.
But ah! that men there be like this,
Forsaking ancient ways!
Where can be peace? Alas, his glance
From me for ever strays!
O sun, O moon, this earth below
Hath you as crown above.
But ah, that men there be like this,
That give not love for love!
Where can be peace? Alas that he
Should so responseless prove!
O sun, O moon, that morn and eve
Rise in yon Eastern sky.
Alas that men there be like this,
Whose deeds fair words belie.
Where can be peace? Ah, better now
If memory could but die!
O sun, O moon, that morn and eve
Rise yonder in the East.
O parents mine! your charge of me
Hath not for ever ceased.
Where can be peace? For to my love
Responds he not the least.
The Storm
Long, long the stormwind blew, and wild.—
He turned to look at me: he smiled;
But mockery was there, and scorn.
Ah, how my very heart was torn!
Long, long it blew, with dust for rain.—
“Be kind, and come to me again.”
He came not, neither went his way;
And long in pensive thought I lay.
On still it blew, with storm-clouds black;
Scarce light there was, so dense the pack.
Wakeful I lay, nor closed mine eyes;
And anxious thought brought fitful sighs.
Black and more black yet grew the gloom;
Then came loud thunder, boom on boom.
Awake I lay, all sleep was fled,
And anxious thought my fever fed.
The Soldier Sighs For Wife And Home
When the beating of drums was heard around,
How we sprang to our weapons with leap and bound!
But the fields must have some, and the walls of Ts‘o;—
We alone to the South must a-marching go.
So we followed our leader Sun Tse-Chung,
And a peace there was made with Ch‘in and Sung.
But of homeward march is no sign as yet,
And our hearts are heavy, and pine and fret.
Ah! here we are lingering; here we stay;
And our steeds go wandering far astray;
And quest of them all must needs be made
Away in the depths of the woodland shade.
But, though far to be severed in death or life,
We are bound by the pledge each gave to his wife;
And we vowed, as we stood then hand in hand,
By each other in life’s last years to stand.
Alas! now wide is the gulf between!
And life to us now is a blank, I ween.
And, alas, for the plighted troth—so vain!
Untrue to our words we must aye remain.
The Discontented Mother
From the South the gladdening breezes blow
On the heart of that bush of thorn;
And the inmost leaves in it gaily grow.—
But the mother with care is worn.
From the South the gladdening breezes blow
On the twigs of that thorny tree.
And the mother is wise and good, but oh!
Bad and worthless men are we.
From the spring ’neath the walls of Tsun there runs
A cool and refreshing rill.
But the mother, though hers be seven sons,
Unrelieved here toils on still.
And the golden bright-eyed orioles
Wake their tuneful melodie.
But the mother’s heart no son consoles,
Though we seven around her be.
Separation
The male pheasant has taken his flight,
Yet leisurely moved he his wings!
Ah, to thee, my beloved, thyself
What sorrow this severance brings!
The male pheasant has taken his flight;
From below, from aloft, yet he cried.
Ah, true was my lord; and my heart
With its burden of sorrow is tried.
As I gaze at the sun and the moon,
Free rein to my thoughts I allow.
O the way, so they tell me, is long:
Tell me, how can be come to me now?
Wot ye not, then, ye gentlemen all,
Of his virtue and rectitude?
From all envy and enmity free,
What deed doth he other than good?
Untimely Unions
“The leaves of the gourd are yet sour to the taste,
And the way through the ford is deep” (quoth she).
—“Deep be it, our garments we’ll raise to the waist,
Or shallow, then up to the knee” (quoth he).
“But the ford is full, and the waters rise.
Hark! a pheasant there, in alarm she cries.”
—“Nay, the ford when full would no axle wet;
And the pheasant but cackles to fetch her mate.”
“More sweet were the wildgoose’ cries to hear,
When the earliest streaks of the dawn appear;
And that is how men should seek their brides,—
(In the early spring) ere the ice divides.
The ferryman beckons and points to his boat:—
Let others cross over, I shall not.
The others may cross, but I say nay.
For a (true) companion here I stay.”
Lament Of A Discarded Wife
When East winds blow unceasingly,
They bring but gloominess and rain.
Strive, strive to live unitedly,
And every angry thought restrain.
Some plants we gather for their leaves,
But leave the roots untouched beneath;
So, while unsullied was my name,
I should have lived with you till death.
With slow, slow step I took the road,
My inmost heart rebelling sore.
You came not far with me indeed,
You only saw me to the door.
Who calls the lettuce bitter fare?
The cress is not a whit more sweet.
Ay, feast there with your new-found bride,
Well-pleased, as when fond brothers meet.
The Wei, made turbid by the King,
Grows limpid by the islets there.
There, feasting with your new-found bride,
For me no longer now you care.
Yet leave to me my fishing-dam;
My wicker-nets—remove them not.
My person spurned,—some vacant hour
May bring compassion for my lot.
Where ran the river full and deep,
With raft or boat I paddled o’er;
And, where it flowed in shallower stream,
I dived or swam from shore to shore.
And what we had, or what we lost,
For that I strained my every nerve;
When other folks had loss, I’d crawl
Upon my knees, if aught ’twould serve.
And you can show me no kind care,
Nay, treated like a foe am I!
My virtue stood but in your way,
Like traders’ goods that none will buy.
Once it was feared we could not live;
In your reverses then I shared;
And now, when fortune smiles on you,
To very poison I’m compared.
I have laid by a goodly store,—
For winter’s use it was to be;—
Feast on there with your new-found bride,—
I was for use in poverty!
Rude fits of anger you have shown,
Now left me to be sorely tried.
Ah, you forget those days gone by,
When you came nestling to my side!
A Prince And His Officers In Trouble
Fallen so low, so low!
Wherefore not homeward go?
And we,—how could we for our chief refuse
Exposure to the nightly dews?
Fallen so low, so low!
Wherefore not homeward go?
And did we not our chief himself require,
How lived we here in mud and mire?
Li Finds No Help In Wei
How have the creepers on the crested slope
Crept with their tendrils far and wide!
And O, ye foster-fathers of our land,
How have our days here multiplied!
Why is there never movement made?
Comes surely some expected aid.
Why is this long, protracted pause?
’Tis surely not without a cause.
With foxfurs worn and frayed, without our cars,
Came we not Eastward here to you?
O ye, the foster-fathers of our land,
Will ye have nought with us to do?
A shattered remnant, last of all our host,
But waifs and vagabonds are we!
And ye, the foster-fathers of our land,
Smile on, but deaf ye seem to be!
Buffoonery At Court
Calm and cool, see him advance!
Now for posturing and dance,—
While the sun’s in middle sky,—
There in front of platform high!
See him, corpulent and tall,
Capering in that ducal hall!
Tiger-like in strength of limb,—
Reins like ribbons were to him!
Left hand now the flute assumes,
Right hand grasps the pheasant’s plumes;
Red, as though with rouge, the face.
“Give him liquor!” cries His Grace.
There are hazels on the hill,
There is fungus in the fen.
Say to whom my thoughts then flee.—
To those fine West-country men.
Those are admirable men!
The West-country men for me!
Homesick
Fain are those waters to be free,
Leaving their spring to join the K‘i.
So yearns my heart for thee, dear Wei;—
No day but there in thought I fly.
Here are my cousins, kind are they:
O, before these my plans I’ll lay.
On leaving home I lodged in Tsi.
And drank the god-speed cup in Ni.
Maids, when their wedding trip they take,
Parents and brothers all forsake.
Yet let me go my aunts to greet;
Let me my elder sisters meet.
And, leaving here, I’d lodge in Kan,
Then drink the god-speed cup in Yen.
Oil me then well my axles, O!
Back in my carriage let me go.
Soon should I be in Wei;—but oh!
Were I not wrong in acting so?
Ah!—For that land of fertile streams
Long do I sigh in waking dreams.
So when I think of Siu and Ts‘o,
Full is my heart, to overflow.
Drove I but forth to wander there,
Then were unbosomed all my care.
Official Hardships
Out by the northern gate I go my way,
Bearing a load of sorrow and of care;
Vulgarly poor am I, and sore bestead,
And of my hardships all are unaware.
Ah, so indeed!
Yet Heaven hath so decreed;
What therefore can I say?
On me devolves the business of the king,
On me official burdens fast encroach;
On me, at home, arriving from abroad,
My household all conspire to heap reproach
Ah, so indeed!
Yet Heaven hath so decreed;
What therefore can I say?
All urgent is the business of the king;
Official cares press on me more and more.
And when at home, arriving from abroad,
My household one and all thrust at me sore.
Ah, so indeed,
Yet Heaven hath so decreed;
What therefore can I say?
Emigrants
Cold north winds are blowing,
Heavy falls the snow.
Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly!
Forth together let us go.
Long, too long, we loiter here:
Times are too severe.
How the north wind whistles,
Driving snow and sleet!
Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly!
Let us, thou and I, retreat.
Long, too long, we loiter here:
Times are too severe.
Nothing red, but foxes!
Nothing black, but crows!
Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly!
Come with me—my waggon goes.
Long, too long, we loiter here:
Times are too severe.
Irregular Love-Making
A modest maiden, passing fair to see,
Waits at the corner of the wall for me.
I love her, yet I have no interview:—
I scratch my head—I know not what to do.
The modest maid—how winsome was she then,
The day she gave me her vermilion pen!
Vermilion pen was never yet so bright,—
The maid’s own loveliness is my delight.
Now from the pasture lands she sends a shoot
Of couchgrass fair; and rare it is, to boot.
Yet thou, my plant (when beauties I compare),
Art but the fair one’s gift, and not the Fair!
The New Tower
Past the New Tower, so spick and span,
The Ho majestic rolled.
There she who sought a gallant mate
Found one deformed and old.
’Neath the New Tower’s high battlements
The Ho ran smooth and still.
She sought a gallant mate, and lo!
A shapeless imbecile!
The net was ready for a fish,
A goose there came instead.
And she who sought a gallant mate,
Must with this hunchback wed.
The Two Sons
Two youths there were, each took his boat,
That floated, mirrored in the stream;—
And O the fear for those two youths,
And O the anxiety extreme!
Two youths they were, each took his boat,
And floated on the stream away;—
And O the fear for those two youths;
If harmed, yet innocent were they.
THE MOTHER OF MENCIUS
Circulated from Mencius’s lifetime on (ca. 371-289 B.C.E.)
China
Mencius (ca. 371–289 B.C.E) is an early Chinese philosopher who contributed to the development of Confu- cianism, and he is regarded as the “second sage” in this tradition. He wrote the Mencius, a Confucian text, which was published as one of the “Four Books” of Confucianism in 1190 C.E. by Zhu Xi, a Neo-Confucian philosopher. The Mencius contains Mencius’s sayings, the writings about his life, and his philosophical statements about human nature and government. Mencius emphasized the rulers’ obligations to look after the welfare of the common people. Mencius believed that humans are basically good with the “seeds” of virtue. The selected text here is a famous leg- end about Mencius’s mother from James Legge’s 1895 translation. It sheds light on the educational devotion of Men- cius’s mother (e.g., her moving three times for his education), her Confucian beliefs, and her influence on Mencius.
Written by Kyounghye Kwon
2.5.1 Chapter II: Mencius and His opinions [The Mother of Mencius]
Mencius, translated by James Legge
License: Public Domain
Section I: Life of Mencius
1. The materials for a Memoir of Mencius are very scanty. The birth and principal incidents of Confucius’ life are duly chronicled in the various annotated editions of the Ch‘un Ts‘ew, and in Sze-ma Ts‘ëen. Paucity and uncer- tainty of materials.
It is not so in the case of Mencius. Ts‘ëen’s account of him is contained in half a dozen columns which are without a single date. That in the “Cyclopædia of Surnames” only covers half a page. Chaou K‘e is more partic- ular in regard to the early years of his subject, but he is equally indefinite. Our chief informants are K‘ung Foo, and Lëw Heang in his “Record of Note-worthy Women,” but what we find in them has more the character of legend than history.
It is not till we come to the pages of Mencius himself that we are treading on any certain ground. They give the principal incidents of his public life, extending over about twenty-four years. We learn from them that in the course of that time he was in such and such places, and gave expression to such and such opinions; but where he went first and where he went last, it is next to impossible to determine. I have carefully examined three attempts, made by competent scholars of the present dynasty, to construct a Harmony that shall reconcile the statements of the “Seven Books” with the current chronologies of the time, and do not see my way to adopt entirely the conclusions of any one of them. The value of the Books lies in the record which they furnish of Mencius’ sentiments, and the lessons which these supply for the regulation of individual conduct and national policy. It is of little importance that we should be able to lay them down in the strict order of time.
With Mencius’ withdrawal from public life, all traces of him disappear. All that is said of him is that he spent his latter years along with his disciples in the preparation and publication of his Works.
From this paragraph it will be seen that there is not much to be said in this section. I shall relate, first, what is reported of the early years and training of our philosopher, and then look at him as he comes before us in his own pages, in the full maturity of his character and powers.
2. Mencius is the latinized form of Măng-tsze, “The philosopher Măng.” His surname, birth-place; parents; the year of his birth, bc 371.
His surname thus connects him with the Măng or Măng-sun family, one of the three great Houses of Loo, whose usurpations were such an offence to Confucius in his day. Their power was broken in the time of duke Gae (bc 493—467), and they thenceforth dwindle into comparative insignificance. Some branches remained in obscurity in Loo, and others went forth to the neighbouring States.
The branch from which Mencius sprang found a home in the small adjacent principality of Tsow, which in former times had been made known by the name of Choo. It was absorbed by Loo, and afterwards by Ts‘oo, and its name is still retained in one of the districts of the department of Yen-chow in Shan-tung. Confucius was a native of a district of Loo having the same name, which many contend was also the birth-place of Mencius, making him a native of Loo and not of the State of Tsow. To my mind the evidence is decidedly against such a view.
Mencius’ name was K‘o. His designation does not appear in his Works, nor is any given to him by Sze-ma Ts‘ëen or Chaou K‘e. The latter says that he did not know how he had been styled; but the legends tell that he was called Tsze-keu, and Tsze-yu. The same authorities—if we can call them such—say that his father’s name was Keih, and that he was styled Kung-e. They say also that his mother’s maiden surname was Chang. Nothing is related of the former but that he died when his son was quite young, but the latter must have a paragraph to herself. “The mother of Mencius” is famous in China, and held up to the present time as a model of what a mother should be.
The year of Mencius’ birth was probably the 4th of the emperor Lëeh, bc 371. He lived to the age of 84, dying in in the year bc 288, the 26th of the emperor Nan, with whom terminated the long sovereignty of the Chow dynasty. The first twenty-three years of his life thus synchronized with the last twenty-three of Plato’s. Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus, Demosthenes, and other great men of the West, were also his contemporaries. When we place Mencius among them, he can look them in the face. He does not need to hide a diminished head.
3. It was his misfortune, according to Chaou K‘e, “to lose his father at an early period; but in his youthful years he enjoyed the lessons of his kind mother, who thrice changed her residence on his account.”
Mencius’ mother.
At first they lived near a cemetery, and Mencius amused himself with acting the various scenes which he witnessed at the tombs. “This,” said the lady, “is no place for my son;”—and she removed to a house in the market-place. But the change was no improvement. The boy took to playing the part of a salesman, vaunting his wares, and chaffering with customers. His mother sought a new house, and found one at last close by a public school. There her child’s attention was taken with the various exercises of politeness which the scholars were taught, and he endeavoured to imitate them. The mother was satisfied. “This,” she said, “is the proper place for my son.”
Han Ying relates another story of this period. Near their house was a pig-butcher’s. One day Mencius asked his mother what they were killing the pigs for, and was told that it was to feed him. Her conscience immediately reproved her for the answer. She said to herself, “While I was carrying this boy in my womb, I would not sit down if the mat was not placed square, and I ate no meat which was not cut properly;—so I taught him when he was yet unborn. And now when his intelligence is opening, I am deceiving him;—this is to teach him un- truthfulness!” With this she went and bought a piece of pork in order to make good her words.
As Mencius grew up, he was sent to school. When he returned home one day, his mother looked up from the web which she was weaving, and asked him how far he had got on. He answered her with an air of indif- ference that he was doing well enough, on which she took a knife and cut the thread of her shuttle. The idler was alarmed, and asked what she meant, when she gave him a long lecture, showing that she had done what he was doing,—that her cutting her thread was like his neglecting his learning. The admonition, it is said, had its proper effect; the lecture did not need to be repeated.
There are two other narratives in which Chang-she figures, and though they belong to a later part of Mencius’ life, it may be as well to embrace them in the present paragraph.
His wife was squatting down one day in her own room, when Mencius went in. He was so much offended at finding her in that position, that he told his mother, and expressed his intention to put her away, because of “her want of propriety.” “It is you who have no propriety,” said his mother, “and not your wife. Do not ‘the Rules of Propriety’ say, ‘When you are about to ascend a hall, raise your voice; when you enter a door, keep your eyes low?’ The reason of the rules is that people may not be taken unprepared; but you entered the door of your pri- vate apartment without raising your voice, and so caused your wife to be caught squatting on the ground. The impropriety is with you and not with her.” On this Mencius fell to reproving himself, and did not dare to put away his wife.
One day, when he was living with his mother in Ts‘e, she was struck with the sorrowfulness of his aspect, as he stood leaning against a pillar, and asked him the cause of it. He replied, “I have heard that the superior man occupies the place for which he is adapted, accepting no reward to which he does not feel entitled, and not covetous of honour and emolument. Now my doctrines are not practised in Ts‘e:—I wish to leave it, but I think of your old age, and am anxious.” His mother said, “It does not belong to a woman to determine any-
thing of herself, but she is subject to the rule of the three obediences. When young, she has to obey her parents; when married, she has to obey her husband; when a widow, she has to obey her son. You are a man in your full maturity, and I am old. Do you act as your conviction of righteousness tells you you ought to do, and I will act according to the rule which belongs to me. Why should you be anxious about me?”
Such are the accounts which I have found of the mother of Mencius. Possibly some of them are inventions, but they are devoutly believed by the people of China;—and it must be to their profit. We may well believe that she was a woman of very superior character, and that her son’s subsequent distinction was in a great degree owing to her influence and training.
* * * * * *
THE ZHUANGZI
Zhuangzi (ca. 369-286 B.C.E.)
Compiled ca. the fourth century C.E.
China
The Zhuangzi, also known as Nanhua zhenjing (“The Pure Classic of Nanhua”), is regarded as a primary source for Daoism, along with Daodejing (a.k.a. the Laozi) and the Liezi. Out of thirty-three chapters, the first seven chapters, called the “inner books,” are attributed to Zhuangzi, whereas the other chapters, called the “outer books,” are credited to the later followers of Zhuangzi. The current arrangement of the book is credited to Guo Xiang in the 4th century C.E.
In contrast to Confucianism, Zhuangzi believed that a truly virtuous man is free from socio-political bounds and obligations, personal attachments, and tradition. Scholars still find the Zhuangzi, written in reflective, serious, and sometimes playful ways, puzzling, but it certainly engages the ideas of relativity, paradox, and uncertainty. Themost famous of the Zhuangzi is the part about Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly, which is located at the end of the second chapter. Because the transcription of Chinese sounds into a Roman alphabet can vary, Zhuangzi has been spelled in various ways, such as Chuang Tzu, Chuang-tsze, Chuang Chou, Zhuangzi, Zhuang Tze, Zhuang Zhou, Chuang Tsu, Chouang-Dsi, Chuang Tse, and Chuangtze.
Written by Kyounghye Kwon
2.6.1 “The Adjustment of Controverseries” The Writing of Chuang Tzu
Chuang Tzu, translated by James Legge
License: Public Domain
(1)
Nan-Guo Zi-Qi was seated, leaning forward on his stool. He was looking up to heaven and breathed gently, seeming to be in a trance, and to have lost all consciousness of any companion. (His disciple), Yan Cheng Zi-You, who was in attendance and standing before him, said, “What is this? Can the body be made to become thus like a withered tree, and the mind to become like slaked lime? His appearance as he leans forward on the stool today is such as I never saw him have before in the same position.” Zi-Qi said, “Yan, you do well to ask such a question, I had just now lost myself; but how should you understand it? You may have heard the notes of Man, but have not heard those of Earth; you may have heard the notes of Earth, but have not heard those of Heaven.”
Zi-You said, “I venture to ask from you a description of all these.” The reply was, “When the breath of the Great Mass (of nature) comes strongly, it is called Wind. Sometimes it does not come so; but when it does, then from a myriad apertures there issues its excited noise; have you not heard it in a prolonged gale? Take the projecting bluff of a mountain forest—in the great trees, a hundred spans round, the apertures and cavities are like the nostrils,
or the mouth, or the ears; now square, now round like a cup or a mortar; here like a wet footprint, and there like a large puddle. (The sounds issuing from them are like) those of fretted water, of the arrowy whizz, of the stern
command, of the inhaling of the breath, of the shout, of the gruff note, of the deep wail, of the sad and piping note. The first notes are slight, and those that follow deeper, but in harmony with them. Gentle winds produce a small response; violent winds a great one. When the fierce gusts have passed away, all the apertures are empty (and still)— have you not seen this in the bending and quivering of the branches and leaves?”
Zi-You said, “The notes of Earth then are simply those which come from its myriad apertures; and the notes of Man may just be compared to those which (are brought from the tubes of) bamboo—allow me to ask about the notes of Heaven.” Zi-Qi replied, “Blowing the myriad differences, making them stop [proceed] of themselves, seal- ing their self-selecting—who is it that stirs it all up?”
(2)
Great knowledge is wide and comprehensive; small knowledge is partial and restricted. Great speech is exact and complete; small speech is (merely) so much talk. When we sleep, the soul communicates with (what is external to us); when we awake, the body is set free. Our intercourse with others then leads to various activity, and daily there is the striving of mind with mind. There are hesitancies; deep difficulties; reservations; small apprehensions causing restless distress, and great apprehensions producing endless fears. Where their utterances are like arrows from a bow,
we have those who feel it their charge to pronounce what is right and what is wrong; where they are given out like the conditions of a covenant, we have those who maintain their views, determined to overcome. (The weakness of their arguments), like the decay (of things) in autumn and winter, shows the failing (of the minds of some) from day to day; or it is like their water which, once voided, cannot be gathered up again. Then their ideas seem as if fast bound with cords, showing that the mind is become like an old and dry moat, and that it is nigh to death, and cannot be restored to vigour and brightness. Joy and anger, sadness and pleasure, anticipation and regret, fickleness and fixedness, vehemence and indolence, eagerness and tardiness;—(all these moods), like music from an empty tube, or mushrooms from the warm moisture, day and night succeed to one another and come before us, and we do not know whence they sprout. Let us stop! Let us stop! Can we expect to find out suddenly how they are produced?
(3)
If there were not (the views of) another, I should not have mine; if there were not I (with my views), his would be uncalled for:—this is nearly a true statement of the case, but we do not know what it is that makes it be so. It might seem as if there would be a true Governor concerned in it, but we do not find any trace (of his presence and acting). That such an One could act so I believe; but we do not see His form. He has affections, but He has no form. Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do I love the most? Do you love them all equally? or do you love some more than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are they not incompetent to rule one another? or do they take it in turns to be now ruler and now servants? There must be a true Ruler (among them) whether by search- ing you can find out His character or not, there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as the truth of His operation is concerned. When once we have received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be stopped—is it not sad? To be constantly toiling all one’s lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one’s labour, and to be weary and worn out with his labour, without knowing where he is going to—is it not a deplorable case? Men may say, “But it is not death;” yet of what advantage is this? When the body is decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it—must not the case be pronounced very deplorable? Is the life of man indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?
(4)
If we were to follow the judgments of the predetermined mind, who would be left alone and without a teacher? Not only would it be so with those who know the sequences (of knowledge and feeling) and make their own selection among them, but it would be so as well with the stupid and unthinking. For one who has not this determined mind, to have his affirmations and negations is like the case described in the saying, “He went to Yue to-day, and arrived at it yesterday.” It would be making what was not a fact to be a fact. But even the spirit-like Yu could not have known how to do this, and how should one like me be able to do it? But speech is not like the blowing (of the wind); the speaker has (a meaning in) his words. If, however, what he says, be indeterminate (as from a mind not made up), does he then really speak or not? He thinks that his words are different from the chirpings of fledgelings; but is there any distinction between them or not? But how can the Dao be so obscured, that there should be “a True” and “a False” in it? How can speech be so obscured that there should be “the Right” and “the Wrong” about them? Where shall the Dao go to that it will not be found? Where shall speech be found that it will be inappropriate? Dao becomes obscured through the small comprehension (of the mind), and speech comes to be obscure through the vain-gloriousness (of the speaker). So it is that we have the contentions between the Literati and the Mohists, the one side affirming what the other denies, and vice versa. If we would decide on their several affirma- tions and denials, no plan is like bringing the (proper) light (of the mind) to bear on them.
(5)
There is no thing that is not “that”, and there is no thing that is not “this”. If I look at something from “that”, I do not see it; only if I look at it from knowing do I know it. Hence it is said, “That view comes from this; and this view is a consequence of that:”—which is the theory that that view and this (the opposite views) produce each the other. Although it be so, there is affirmed now life and now death; now death and now life; now the admissibility of a thing and now its inadmissibility; now its inadmissibility and now its admissibility. (The disputants) now affirm and now deny; now deny and now affirm. Therefore the sagely man does not pursue this method, but views things in the light of (his) Heaven (-ly nature), and hence forms his judgment of what is right. This view is the same as that, and that view is the same as this. But that view involves both a right and a wrong; and this view involves also a right and a wrong— are there indeed the two views, that and this? Or are there not the two views, that and this? They have not found their point of correspondency which is called the pivot of the Dao. As soon as one finds this pivot, he stands in the centre of the ring (of thought), where he can respond without end to the changing views; without end to those affirming, and without end to those denying. Therefore I said, “There is nothing like the proper light (of the mind).”
(6)
By means of a finger (of my own) to illustrate that the finger (of another) is not a finger is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not so by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a finger; and by means of (what I call) a horse to illustrate that (what another calls) a horse is not so, is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not a horse, by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a horse. (All things in) heaven and earth may be (dealt with as) a finger; (each of) their myriads may be (dealt with as) a horse.
Does a thing seem so to me? (I say that) it is so. Does it seem not so to me? (I say that) it is not so. A path is formed by (constant) treading on the ground. A thing is called by its name through the (constant) application of the name to it. How is it so? It is so because it is so. How is it not so? It is not so, because it is not so. Everything has its inherent character and its proper capability. There is nothing which has not these. Therefore, this being so, if we take a stalk of grain and a (large) pillar, a loathsome (leper) and (a beauty like) Xi Shi, things large and things insecure, things crafty and things strange; they may in the light of the Dao all be reduced to the same category (of opinion about them).
It was separation that led to completion; from completion ensued dissolution. But all things, without regard to their completion and dissolution, may again be comprehended in their unity—it is only the far reaching in thought who know how to comprehend them in this unity. This being so, let us give up our devotion to our own views, and occupy ourselves with the ordinary views. These ordinary views are grounded on the use of things. (The study of that) use leads to the comprehensive judgment, and that judgment secures the success (of the inquiry). That success gained, we are near (to the object of our search), and there we stop. When we stop, and yet we do not know how it is so, we have what is called the Dao. When we toil our spirits and intelligence, obstinately determined (to establish our own view), and do not know the agreement (which underlies it and the views of others), we have what is called “In the morning three.” What is meant by that “In the morning three?” A keeper of monkeys, in giving them out their acorns, (once) said, “In the morning I will give you three (measures) and in the evening four.” This made them all angry, and he said, “Very well. In the morning I will give you four and in the evening three.” The monkeys were all pleased. His two proposals were substantially the same, but the result of the one was to make the creatures angry, and of the other to make them pleased—an illustration of the point I am insisting on. Therefore the sagely man brings together a dispute in its affirma- tions and denials, and rests in the equal fashioning of Heaven. Both sides of the question are admissible.
(7)
Among the men of old their knowledge reached the extreme point. What was that extreme point? Some held that at first there was not anything. This is the extreme point, the utmost point to which nothing can be added. A second class held that there was something, but without any responsive recognition of it (on the part of men). A third class held that there was such recognition, but there had not begun to be any expression of different opinions about it. It was through the definite expression of different opinions about it that there ensued injury to (the doc- trine of) the Dao. It was this injury to the (doctrine of the) Dao which led to the formation of (partial) preferences. Was it indeed after such preferences were formed that the injury came? or did the injury precede the rise of such preferences? If the injury arose after their formation, Zhao’s method of playing on the lute was natural. If the injury arose before their formation, there would have been no such playing on the lute as Zhao’s. Zhao Wen’s playing on the lute, Shi Kuang’s indicating time with his staff, and Huizi’s (giving his views), while leaning against a dryandra tree (were all extraordinary). The knowledge of the three men (in their several arts) was nearly perfect, and there- fore they practised them to the end of their lives. They loved them because they were different from those of others. They loved them and wished to make them known to others. But as they could not be made clear, though they tried to make them so, they ended with the obscure (discussions) about “the hard” and “the white.” And their sons, more- over, with all the threads of their fathers’ compositions, yet to the end of their lives accomplished nothing. If they, proceeding in this way, could be said to have succeeded, then am I also successful; if they cannot be pronounced successful, neither I nor any other can succeed. Therefore the scintillations of light from the midst of confusion and perplexity are indeed valued by the sagely man; but not to use one’s own views and to take his position on the ordinary views is what is called using the (proper) light.
(8)
But here now are some other sayings—I do not know whether they are of the same character as those which I have already given, or of a different character. Whether they be of the same character or not when looked at along with them, they have a character of their own, which cannot be distinguished from the others. But though this be the case, let me try to explain myself. There was a beginning. There was a beginning before that beginning. There was a beginning previous to that beginning before there was the beginning. There was existence; there had been no existence. There was no existence before the beginning of that no existence. There was no existence previous to the no existence before there was the beginning of the no existence. If suddenly there was nonexistence, we do not know whether it was really anything existing, or really not existing. Now I have said what I have said, but I do not know whether what I have said be really anything to the point or not.
(9)
Under heaven there is nothing greater than the tip of an autumn down, and the Tai mountain is small. There is no one more long-lived than a child which dies prematurely, and Peng Zu did not live out his time. Heaven, Earth, and I were produced together, and all things and I are one. Since they are one, can there be speech about them? But since they are spoken of as one, must there not be room for speech? One and Speech are two; two and one are three. Going on from this (in our enumeration), the most skilful reckoner cannot reach (the end of the necessary numbers), and how much less can ordinary people do so! Therefore from non-existence we proceed to existence till we arrive at three; pro- ceeding from existence to existence, to how many should we reach? Let us abjure such procedure, and simply rest here.
(10)
The Dao at first met with no responsive recognition. Speech at first had no constant forms of expression. Because of this there came the demarcations (of different views). Let me describe those demarcations: they are the Left and the Right; the Relations and their Obligations; Classifications and their Distinctions; Emulations and Contentions. These are what are called “the Eight Qualities.” Outside the limits of the world of men, the sage occupies his thoughts, but does not discuss about anything; inside those limits he occupies his thoughts, but does not pass any judgments. In the Chun Qiu, which embraces the history of the former kings, the sage indicates his judgments, but does not argue (in vindication of them). Thus it is that he separates his characters from one another without appearing to do so, and argues without the form of argument. How does he do so? The sage cherishes his views in his own breast, while men generally state theirs argumentatively, to show them to others. Hence we have the saying, “Disputation is a proof of not seeing clearly.”
The Great Dao does not admit of being praised. The Great Argument does not require words. Great Benevolence is not (officiously) benevolent. Great Disinterestedness does not vaunt its humility. Great Courage is not seen in stubborn bravery. The Dao that is displayed is not the Dao. Words that are argumentative do not reach the point. Benevolence that is constantly exercised does not accomplish its object. Disinterestedness that vaunts its purity is not genuine. Courage that is most stubborn is ineffectual. These five seem to be round (and complete), but they tend to become square (and immovable). Therefore the knowledge that stops at what it does not know is the greatest. Who knows the argument that needs no words, and the Way that is not to be trodden? He who is able to know this has what is called “The Heavenly Treasure-house.” He may pour into it without its being filled; he may pour from it without its being exhausted; and all the while he does not know whence (the supply) comes. This is what is called “The Store of Light.” Therefore of old Yao asked Shun, saying, “I wish to smite (the rulers of) Zong, Kuai, and Xu-Ao. Even when standing in my court, I cannot get them out of my mind. How is it so?” Shun replied, “Those three rulers live (in their little states) as if they were among the mugwort and other brushwood—how is it that you cannot get them out of your mind? Formerly, ten suns came out together, and all things were illuminated by them; how much should (your) virtue exceed (all) suns!”
(11)
Nie Que asked Wang Ni, saying, “Do you know, Sir, what all creatures agree in approving and affirming?” “How should I know it?” was the reply. “Do you know what it is that you do not know?” asked the other again, and he got the same reply. He asked a third time, “Then are all creatures thus without knowledge?” and Wang Ni answered as before, (adding however), “Notwithstanding, I will try and explain my meaning. How do you know that when I say ‘I know it,’ I really (am showing that) I do not know it, and that when I say ‘I do not know it,’ I really am showing that I do know it.” And let me ask you some questions: “If a man sleep in a damp place, he will have a pain in his loins, and half his body will be as if it were dead; but will it be so with an eel? If he be living in a tree, he will be frightened and all in a tremble; but will it be so with a monkey? And does any one of the three know his right place? Men eat animals that have been fed on grain and grass; deer feed on the thick-set grass; centipedes enjoy small snakes; owls and crows delight in mice; but does any one of the four know the right taste? The dog-headed monkey finds its mate in the female gibbon; the elk and the axis deer cohabit; and the eel enjoys itself with other fishes. Mao Qiang and Li Ji were accounted by men to be most beautiful, but when fishes saw them, they dived deep in the water from them; when birds, they flew from them aloft; and when deer saw them, they separated and fled away. But did any of these four know which in the world is the right female attraction? As I look at the matter, the first principles of benevolence and righteousness and the paths of approval and disapproval are inextricably mixed and confused together—how is it possible that I should know how to discriminate among them?” Nie Que said (further), “Since you, Sir, do not know what is advanta- geous and what is hurtful, is the Perfect man also in the same way without the knowledge of them?” Wang Ni replied, “The Perfect man is spirit-like. Great lakes might be boiling about him, and he would not feel their heat; the He and the Han might be frozen up, and he would not feel the cold; the hurrying thunderbolts might split the mountains, and the wind shake the ocean, without being able to make him afraid. Being such, he mounts on the clouds of the air, rides on the sun and moon, and rambles at ease beyond the four seas. Neither death nor life makes any change in him, and how much less should the considerations of advantage and injury do so!”
(12)
Qu Quezi asked Chang Wuzi, saying, “I heard the Master (speaking of such language as the following): ‘The sagely man does not occupy himself with worldly affairs. He does not put himself in the way of what is profitable, nor try to avoid what is hurtful; he has no pleasure in seeking (for anything from any one); he does not care to be found in (any established) Way; he speaks without speaking; he does not speak when he speaks; thus finding his enjoyment outside the dust and dirt (of the world).’ The Master considered all this to be a shoreless flow of mere words, and I consider it to describe the course of the Mysterious Way—What do you, Sir, think of it?” Chang Wuzi replied, “The hearing of such words would have perplexed even Huang Di, and how should Qiu be competent to understand them? And you, moreover, are too hasty in forming your estimate (of their meaning). You see the egg, and (immediately) look out for the cock (that is to be hatched from it); you see the bow, and (immediately) look out for the dove (that is to be brought down by it) being roasted. I will try to explain the thing to you in a rough way; do you in the same way listen to me. How could any one stand by the side of the sun and moon, and hold under his arm all space and all time? (Such language only means that the sagely man) keeps his mouth shut, and puts aside questions that are uncertain and dark; making his inferior capacities unite with him in honouring (the One Lord). Men in general bustle about and toil; the sagely man seems stupid and to know nothing. He blends ten thousand years together in the one (conception of time); the myriad things all pursue their spontaneous course, and they are all before him as doing so. How do I know that the love of life is not a delusion? and that the dislike of death is not like a young person’s losing his way, and not knowing that he is (really) going home? Li Ji was a daughter of the border Warden of Ai. When (the ruler of) the state of Jin first got possession of her, she wept till the tears wetted all the front of her dress. But when she came to the place of the king, shared with him his luxurious couch, and ate his grain-and-grass-fed meat, then she regretted that she had wept. How do I know that the dead do not repent of their former craving for life? Those who dream of (the pleasures of) drinking may in the morning wail and weep; those who dream of wailing and weeping may in the morning be going out to hunt. When they were dreaming they did not know it was a dream; in their dream they may even have tried to interpret it; but when they awoke they knew that it was a dream. And there is the great awaking, after which we shall know that this life was a great dream. All the while, the stupid think they are awake, and with nice discrimination insist on their knowledge; now playing the part of rulers, and now of grooms. Bigoted was that Qiu! He and you are both dreaming. I who say that you are dreaming am dreaming myself. These words seem very strange; but if after ten thousand ages we once meet with a great sage who knows how to explain them, it will be as if we met him (unexpectedly) some morning or evening.
“Since you made me enter into this discussion with you, if you have got the better of me and not I of you, are you indeed right, and I indeed wrong? If I have got the better of you and not you of me, am I indeed right and you indeed wrong? Is the one of us right and the other wrong? are we both right or both wrong? Since we cannot come to a mutual and common understanding, men will certainly continue in darkness on the subject. Whom shall I employ to adjudicate in the matter? If I employ one who agrees with you, how can he, agreeing with you, do so correctly? If I employ one who agrees with me, how can he, agreeing with me, do so correctly? If I employ one who disagrees with you and I, how can he, disagreeing with you and I, do so correctly? If I employ one who agrees with you and I, how can he, agreeing with you and I, do so correctly? In this way I and you and those others would all not be able to come to a mutual understanding; and shall we then wait for that (great sage)? (We need not do so.) To wait on others to learn how conflicting opinions are changed is simply like not so waiting at all. The harmonizing of them is to be found in the invisible operation of Heaven, and by following this on into the unlimited past. It is by this method that we can complete our years (without our minds being disturbed). What is meant by harmonising (conflicting opinions) in the invisible operation of Heaven? There is the affirmation and the denial of it; and there is the assertion of an opinion and the rejection of it. If the affirmation be according to the reality of the fact, it is cer- tainly different from the denial of it—there can be no dispute about that. If the assertion of an opinion be correct, it is certainly different from its rejection—neither can there be any dispute about that. Let us forget the lapse of time; let us forget the conflict of opinions. Let us make our appeal to the Infinite, and take up our position there.”
(13)
The Penumbra asked the Shadow, saying, “Formerly you were walking on, and now you have stopped; formerly you were sitting, and now you have risen up—how is it that you are so without stability?” The Shadow replied, “I wait for the movements of something else to do what I do, and that something else on which I wait waits further on another to do as it does. My waiting, is it for the scales of a snake, or the wings of a cicada? How should I know why I do one thing, or do not do another?”
(14)
“Formerly, I, Zhuang Zhou, dreamt that I was a butterfly, a butterfly flying about, feeling that it was enjoying itself. I did not know that it was Zhou. Suddenly I awoke, and was myself again, the veritable Zhou. I did not know whether it had formerly been Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or it was now a butterfly dreaming that it was Zhou. But between Zhou and a butterfly there must be a difference. This is a case of what is called the Transformation of Things.”