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 Analects 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 letters, 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

Confucius (551-479 B.C.E.)

Compiled ca. 200 B.C.E.

China

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 complied 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 tradition. 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

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

2.2.1 The Analects

Confucius, Translated James Legge

License: Public Domain

1

The Master “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?”

The philosopher Yu said, “They are few who, being filial and fraternal, are fond of offending against their superiors. There have been none, who, not liking to offend against their superiors, have been fond of stirring up confusion.

“The superior man bends his attention to what is radical. That being established, all practical courses naturally grow up. Filial piety and fraternal submission,—are they not the root of all benevolent actions?”

The Master said, “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue.”

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 practiced the instructions of my teacher.”

The Master said, “To rule a country of a thousand chariots, there must be reverent attention to business, and sincerity; economy in expenditure, and love for men; and the employment of the people at the proper seasons.”

The Master said, “A youth, when at home, should be filial, and, abroad, respectful to his elders. He should be earnest and truthful. He should overflow in love to all, and cultivate the friendship of the good. When he has time and opportunity, after the performance of these things, he should employ them in polite studies.”

Tsze-hsia said, “If a man withdraws his mind from the love of beauty, and applies it as sincerely to the love of the virtuous; if, in serving his parents, he can exert his utmost strength; if, in serving his prince, he can devote his life; if, in his intercourse with his friends, his words are sincere:—although men say that he has not learned, I will certainly say that he has.

The Master said, “If the scholar be not grave, he will not call forth any veneration, and his learning will not be solid.

“Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles.

“Have no friends not equal to yourself.

“When you have faults, do not fear to abandon them.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “Let there be a careful attention to perform the funeral rites to parents, and let them be followed when long gone with the ceremonies of sacrifice;—then the virtue of the people will resume its proper excellence.”

Tsze-ch’in asked Tsze-kung saying, “When our master comes to any country, he does not fail to learn all about its government. Does he ask his information? or is it given to him?”

Tsze-kung said, “Our master is benign, upright, courteous, temperate, and complaisant and thus he gets his information. The master’s mode of asking information,—is it not different from that of other men?”

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.”

The philosopher Yu said, “In practicing the rules of propriety, a natural ease is to be prized. In the ways prescribed by the ancient kings, this is the excellent quality, and in things small and great we follow them.

“Yet it is not to be observed in all cases. If one, knowing how such ease should be prized, manifests it, without regulating it by the rules of propriety, this likewise is not to be done.”

The philosopher Yu said, “When agreements are made according to what is right, what is spoken can be made good. When respect is shown according to what is proper, one keeps far from shame and disgrace. When the parties upon whom a man leans are proper persons to be intimate with, he can make them his guides and masters.”

The Master said, “He who aims to be a man of complete virtue in his food does not seek to gratify his appetite, nor in his dwelling place does he seek the appliances of ease; he is earnest in what he is doing, and careful in his speech; he frequents the company of men of principle that he may be rectified:—such a person may be said indeed to love to learn.”

Tsze-kung said, “What do you pronounce concerning the poor man who yet does not flatter, and the rich man who is not proud?” The Master replied, “They will do; but they are not equal to him, who, though poor, is yet cheerful, and to him, who, though rich, loves the rules of propriety.”

Tsze-kung replied, “It is said in the Book of Poetry, ‘As you cut and then file, as you carve and then polish.’—The meaning is the same, I apprehend, as that which you have just expressed.”

The Master said, “With one like Ts’ze, I can begin to talk about the odes. I told him one point, and he knew its proper sequence.”

The Master said, “I will not be afflicted at men’s not knowing me; I will be afflicted that I do not know men.”

2

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.”

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.’”

The Master said, “If the people be led by laws, and uniformity sought to be given them by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment, but have no sense of shame.

“If they be led by virtue, and uniformity sought to be given them by the rules of propriety, they will have the sense of shame, and moreover will become good.”

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.”

Mang I asked what filial piety was. The Master said, “It is not being disobedient.”

Soon after, as Fan Ch’ih was driving him, the Master told him, saying, “Mang-sun asked me what filial piety was, and I answered him,—‘not being disobedient.’”

Fan Ch’ih said, “What did you mean?” The Master replied, “That parents, when alive, be served according to propriety; that, when dead, they should be buried according to propriety; and that they should be sacrificed to according to propriety.”

Mang Wu asked what filial piety was. The Master said, “Parents are anxious lest their children should be sick.”

Tsze-yu asked what filial piety was. The Master said, “The filial piety nowadays 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?”

Tsze-hsia asked what filial piety was. The Master said, “The difficulty is with the countenance. If, when their elders have any troublesome affairs, the young take the toil of them, and if, when the young have wine and food, they set them before their elders, is THIS to be considered filial piety?”

The Master said, “I have talked with Hui for a whole day, and he has not made any objection to anything I said;—as if he were stupid. He has retired, and I have examined his conduct when away from me, and found him able to illustrate my teachings. Hui!—He is not stupid.”

The Master said, “See what a man does.

“Mark his motives.

“Examine in what things he rests.

“How can a man conceal his character? How can a man conceal his character?”

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.”

The Master said, “The accomplished scholar is not a utensil.”

Tsze-kung asked what constituted the superior man. The Master said, “He acts before he speaks, and afterwards speaks according to his actions.”

The Master said, “The superior man is catholic and not partisan. The mean man is partisan and not catholic.”

The Master said, “Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.”

The Master said, “The study of strange doctrines is injurious indeed!”

The Master said, “Yu, shall I teach you what knowledge is? When you know a thing, to hold that you know it; and when you do not know a thing, to allow that you do not know it;—this is knowledge.”

Tsze-chang was learning with a view to official emolument.

The Master said, “Hear much and put aside the points of which you stand in doubt, while you speak cautiously at the same time of the others:—then you will afford few occasions for blame. See much and put aside the things which seem perilous, while you are cautious at the same time in carrying the others into practice: then you will have few occasions for repentance. When one gives few occasions for blame in his words, and few occasions for repentance in his conduct, he is in the way to get emolument.”

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.”

Chi K’ang asked how to cause the people to reverence their ruler, to be faithful to him, and to go on to nerve themselves to virtue. The Master said, “Let him preside over them with gravity;—then they will reverence him. Let him be final and kind to all;—then they will be faithful to him. Let him advance the good and teach the incompetent;—then they will eagerly seek to be virtuous.”

Some one addressed Confucius, saying, “Sir, why are you not engaged in the government?”

The Master said, “What does the Shu-ching say of filial piety?—‘You are final, you discharge your brotherly duties. These qualities are displayed in government.’ This then also constitutes the exercise of government. Why must there be THAT—making one be in the government?”

The Master said, “I do not know how a man without truthfulness is to get on. How can a large carriage be made to go without the crossbar for yoking the oxen to, or a small carriage without the arrangement for yoking the horses?”

Tsze-chang asked whether the affairs of ten ages after could be known.

Confucius said, “The Yin dynasty followed the regulations of the Hsia: wherein it took from or added to them may be known. The Chau dynasty has followed the regulations of Yin: wherein it took from or added to them may be known. Some other may follow the Chau, but though it should be at the distance of a hundred ages, its affairs may be known.”

The Master said, “For a man to sacrifice to a spirit which does not belong to him is flattery.

“To see what is right and not to do it is want of courage.”

3

Confucius said of the head of the Chi family, who had eight rows of pantomimes in his area, “If he can bear to do this, what may he not bear to do?”

The three families used the Yungode, while the vessels were being removed, at the conclusion of the sacrifice.

The Master said, “‘Assisting are the princes;—the son of heaven looks profound and grave’;—what application can these words have in the hall of the three families?”

The Master said, “If a man be without the virtues proper to humanity, what has he to do with the rites of propriety? If a man be without the virtues proper to humanity, what has he to do with music?”

Lin Fang asked what was the first thing to be attended to in ceremonies.

The Master said, “A great question indeed!

“In festive ceremonies, it is better to be sparing than extravagant. In the ceremonies of mourning, it is better that there be deep sorrow than in minute attention to observances.”

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.”

The chief of the Chi family was about to sacrifice to the T’ai mountain. The Master said to Zan Yu, “Can you not save him from this?” He answered, “I cannot.” Confucius said, “Alas! will you say that the T’ai mountain is not so discerning as Lin Fang?”

The Master said, “The student of virtue has no contentions. If it be said he cannot avoid them, shall this be in archery? But he bows complaisantly to his competitors; thus he ascends the hall, descends, and exacts the forfeit of drinking. In his contention, he is still the Chun-tsze.”

Tsze-hsia asked, saying, “What is the meaning of the passage—‘The pretty dimples of her artful smile! The well—defined black and white of her eye! The plain ground for the colors?’”

The Master said, “The business of laying on the colors follows the preparation of the plain ground.”

“Ceremonies then are a subsequent thing?” The Master said, “It is Shang who can bring out my meaning. Now I can begin to talk about the odes with him.”

The Master said, “I could describe the ceremonies of the Hsia dynasty, but Chi cannot sufficiently attest my words. I could describe the ceremonies of the Yin dynasty, but Sung cannot sufficiently attest my words. They cannot do so because of the insufficiency of their records and wise men. If those were sufficient, I could adduce them in support of my words.”

The Master said, “At the great sacrifice, after the pouring out of the libation, I have no wish to look on.”

Some one asked the meaning of the great sacrifice. The Master said, “I do not know. He who knew its meaning would find it as easy to govern the kingdom as to look on this”—pointing to his palm.

He sacrificed to the dead, as if they were present. He sacrificed to the spirits, as if the spirits were present.

The Master said, “I consider my not being present at the sacrifice, as if I did not sacrifice.”

Wang-sun Chia asked, saying, “What is the meaning of the saying, ‘It is better to pay court to the furnace then to the southwest corner?’”

The Master said, “Not so. He who offends against Heaven has none to whom he can pray.”

The Master said, “Chau had the advantage of viewing the two past dynasties. How complete and elegant are its regulations! I follow Chau.”

The Master, when he entered the grand temple, asked about everything. Some one said, “Who say that the son of the man of Tsau knows the rules of propriety! He has entered the grand temple and asks about everything.” The Master heard the remark, and said, “This is a rule of propriety.”

The Master said, “In archery it is not going through the leather which is the principal thing;—because people’s strength is not equal. This was the old way.”

Tsze-kung wished to do away with the offering of a sheep connected with the inauguration of the first day of each month.

The Master said, “Ts’ze, you love the sheep; I love the ceremony.”

The Master said, “The full observance of the rules of propriety in serving one’s prince is accounted by people to be flattery.”

The Duke Ting asked how a prince should employ his ministers, and how ministers should serve their prince. Confucius replied, “A prince should employ his minister according to according to the rules of propriety; ministers should serve their prince with faithfulness.”

The Master said, “The Kwan Tsu is expressive of enjoyment without being licentious, and of grief without being hurtfully excessive.”

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.”

The Master said, “Small indeed was the capacity of Kwan Chung!”

Some one said, “Was Kwan Chung parsimonious?” “Kwan,” was the reply, “had the San Kwei, and his officers performed no double duties; how can he be considered parsimonious?”

“Then, did Kwan Chung know the rules of propriety?” The Master said, “The princes of States have a screen intercepting the view at their gates. Kwan had likewise a screen at his gate. The princes of States on any friendly meeting between two of them, had a stand on which to place their inverted cups. Kwan had also such a stand. If Kwan knew the rules of propriety, who does not know them?”

The Master instructing the grand music master of Lu said, “How to play music may be known. At the commencement of the piece, all the parts should sound together. As it proceeds, they should be in harmony while severally distinct and flowing without break, and thus on to the conclusion.”

The border warden at Yi requested to be introduced to the Master, saying, “When men of superior virtue have come to this, I have never been denied the privilege of seeing them.” The followers of the sage introduced him, and when he came out from the interview, he said, “My friends, why are you distressed by your master’s loss of office? The kingdom has long been without the principles of truth and right; Heaven is going to use your master as a bell with its wooden tongue.”

The Master said of the Shao that it was perfectly beautiful and also perfectly good. He said of the Wu that it was perfectly beautiful but not perfectly good.

The Master said, “High station filled without indulgent generosity; ceremonies performed without reverence; mourning conducted without sorrow;—wherewith should I contemplate such ways?”

4

The Master said, “It is virtuous manners which constitute the excellence of a neighborhood. If a man in selecting a residence do not fix on one where such prevail, how can he be wise?”

The Master said, “Those who are without virtue cannot abide long either in a condition of poverty and hardship, or in a condition of enjoyment. The virtuous rest in virtue; the wise desire virtue.”

The Master said, “It is only the truly virtuous man, who can love, or who can hate, others.”

The Master said, “If the will be set on virtue, there will be no practice of wickedness.”

The Master said, “Riches and honors are what men desire. If they cannot be obtained in the proper way, they should not be held. Poverty and meanness are what men dislike. If they cannot be avoided in the proper way, they should not be avoided.

“If a superior man abandon virtue, how can he fulfill the requirements of that name?

“The superior man does not, even for the space of a single meal, act contrary to virtue. In moments of haste, he cleaves to it. In seasons of danger, he cleaves to it.”

The Master said, “I have not seen a person who loved virtue, or one who hated what was not virtuous. He who loved virtue, would esteem nothing above it. He who hated what is not virtuous, would practice virtue in such a way that he would not allow anything that is not virtuous to approach his person.

“Is any one able for one day to apply his strength to virtue? I have not seen the case in which his strength would be insufficient.

“Should there possibly be any such case, I have not seen it.”

The Master said, “The faults of men are characteristic of the class to which they belong. By observing a man’s faults, it may be known that he is virtuous.”

The Master said, “If a man in the morning hear the right way, he may die in the evening hear regret.”

The Master said, “A scholar, whose mind is set on truth, and who is ashamed of bad clothes and bad food, is not fit to be discoursed with.”

The Master said, “The superior man, in the world, does not set his mind either for anything, or against anything; what is right he will follow.”

The Master said, “The superior man thinks of virtue; the small man thinks of comfort. The superior man thinks of the sanctions of law; the small man thinks of favors which he may receive.”

The Master said: “He who acts with a constant view to his own advantage will be much murmured against.”

The Master said, “If a prince is able to govern his kingdom with the complaisance proper to the rules of propriety, what difficulty will he have? If he cannot govern it with that complaisance, what has he to do with the rules of propriety?”

The Master said, “A man should say, I am not concerned that I have no place, I am concerned how I may fit myself for one. I am not concerned that I am not known, I seek to be worthy to be known.”

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.”

The Master said, “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness; the mind of the mean man is conversant with gain.”

The Master said, “When we see men of worth, we should think of equaling them; when we see men of a contrary character, we should turn inwards and examine ourselves.”

The Master said, “In serving his parents, a son may remonstrate with them, but gently; when he sees that they do not incline to follow his advice, he shows an increased degree of reverence, but does not abandon his purpose; and should they punish him, he does not allow himself to murmur.”

The Master said, “While his parents are alive, the son may not go abroad to a distance. If he does go abroad, he must have a fixed place to which he goes.”

The Master said, “If the son for three years does not alter from the way of his father, he may be called filial.”

The Master said, “The years of parents may by no means not be kept in the memory, as an occasion at once for joy and for fear.”

The Master said, “The reason why the ancients did not readily give utterance to their words, was that they feared lest their actions should not come up to them.”

The Master said, “The cautious seldom err.”

The Master said, “The superior man wishes to be slow in his speech and earnest in his conduct.”

The Master said, “Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will have neighbors.”

Tsze-yu said, “In serving a prince, frequent remonstrances lead to disgrace. Between friends, frequent reproofs make the friendship distant.”

5

The Master said of Kung-ye Ch’ang that he might be wived; although he was put in bonds, he had not been guilty of any crime. Accordingly, he gave him his own daughter to wife.

Of Nan Yung he said that if the country were well governed he would not be out of office, and if it were in governed, he would escape punishment and disgrace. He gave him the daughter of his own elder brother to wife.

The Master said of Tsze-chien, “Of superior virtue indeed is such a man! If there were not virtuous men in Lu, how could this man have acquired this character?”

Tsze-kung asked, “What do you say of me, Ts’ze!” The Master said, “You are a utensil.” “What utensil?” “A gemmed sacrificial utensil.”

Some one said, “Yung is truly virtuous, but he is not ready with his tongue.”

The Master said, “What is the good of being ready with the tongue? They who encounter men with smartness of speech for the most part procure themselves hatred. I know not whether he be truly virtuous, but why should he show readiness of the tongue?”

The Master was wishing Ch’i-tiao K’ai to enter an official employment. He replied, “I am not yet able to rest in the assurance of this.” The Master was pleased.

The Master said, “My doctrines make no way. I will get upon a raft, and float about on the sea. He that will accompany me will be Yu, I dare say.” Tsze-lu hearing this was glad, upon which the Master said, “Yu is fonder of daring than I am. He does not exercise his judgment upon matters.”

Mang Wu asked about Tsze-lu, whether he was perfectly virtuous. The Master said, “I do not know.”

He asked again, when the Master replied, “In a kingdom of a thousand chariots, Yu might be employed to manage the military levies, but I do not know whether he be perfectly virtuous.”

“And what do you say of Ch’iu?” The Master replied, “In a city of a thousand families, or a clan of a hundred chariots, Ch’iu might be employed as governor, but I do not know whether he is perfectly virtuous.”

“What do you say of Ch’ih?” The Master replied, “With his sash girt and standing in a court, Ch’ih might be employed to converse with the visitors and guests, but I do not know whether he is perfectly virtuous.”

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.”

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.”

The Master said, “I have not seen a firm and unbending man.” Some one 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?”

Tsze-kung said, “What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men.” The Master said, “Ts’ze, you have not attained to that.”

Tsze-kung said, “The Master’s personal displays of his principles and ordinary descriptions of them may be heard. His discourses about man’s nature, and the way of Heaven, cannot be heard.”

When Tsze-lu heard anything, if he had not yet succeeded in carrying it into practice, he was only afraid lest he should hear something else.

Tsze-kung asked, saying, “On what ground did Kung-wan get that title of Wan?”

The Master said, “He was of an active nature and yet fond of learning, and he was not ashamed to ask and learn of his inferiors!—On these grounds he has been styled Wan.”

The Master said of Tsze-ch’an that he had four of the characteristics of a superior man—in his conduct of himself, he was humble; in serving his superior, he was respectful; in nourishing the people, he was kind; in ordering the people, he was just.”

The Master said, “Yen P’ing knew well how to maintain friendly intercourse. The acquaintance might be long, but he showed the same respect as at first.”

The Master said, “Tsang Wan kept a large tortoise in a house, on the capitals of the pillars of which he had hills made, and with representations of duckweed on the small pillars above the beams supporting the rafters.—Of what sort was his wisdom?”

Tsze-chang asked, saying, “The minister Tsze-wan thrice took office, and manifested no joy in his countenance. Thrice he retired from office, and manifested no displeasure. He made it a point to inform the new minister of the way in which he had conducted the government; what do you say of him?” The Master replied. “He was loyal.” “Was he perfectly virtuous?” “I do not know. How can he be pronounced perfectly virtuous?”

Tsze-chang proceeded, “When the officer Ch’ui killed the prince of Ch’i, Ch’an Wan, though he was the owner of forty horses, abandoned them and left the country. Coming to another state, he said, ‘They are here like our great officer, Ch’ui,’ and left it. He came to a second state, and with the same observation left it also;—what do you say of him?” The Master replied, “He was pure.” “Was he perfectly virtuous?” “I do not know. How can he be pronounced perfectly virtuous?”

Chi Wan thought thrice, and then acted. When the Master was informed of it, he said, “Twice may do.”

The Master said, “When good order prevailed in his country, Ning Wu acted the part of a wise man. When his country was in disorder, he acted the part of a stupid man. Others may equal his wisdom, but they cannot equal his stupidity.”

When the Master was in Ch’an, he said, “Let me return! Let me return! The little children of my school are ambitious and too hasty. They are accomplished and complete so far, but they do not know how to restrict and shape themselves.”

The Master said, “Po-i and Shu-ch’i did not keep the former wickednesses of men in mind, and hence the resentments directed towards them were few.”

The Master said, “Who says of Weishang Kao that he is upright? One begged some vinegar of him, and he begged it of a neighbor and gave it to the man.”

The Master said, “Fine words, an insinuating appearance, and excessive respect;—Tso Ch’iu-ming was ashamed of them. I also am ashamed of them. To conceal resentment against a person, and appear friendly with him;—Tso Ch’iu-ming was ashamed of such conduct. I also am ashamed of it.”

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 clothes, 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.”

The Master said, “It is all over. I have not yet seen one who could perceive his faults, and inwardly accuse himself.”

The Master said, “In a hamlet of ten families, there may be found one honorable and sincere as I am, but not so fond of learning.”

6

The Master said, “There is Yung!—He might occupy the place of a prince.”

Chung-kung asked about Tsze-sang Po-tsze. The Master said, “He may pass. He does not mind small matters.”

Chung-kung said, “If a man cherish in himself a reverential feeling of the necessity of attention to business, though he may be easy in small matters in his government of the people, that may be allowed. But if he cherish in himself that easy feeling, and also carry it out in his practice, is not such an easymode of procedure excessive?”

The Master said, “Yung’s words are right.”

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 any one who loves to learn as he did.”

Tsze-hwa being employed on a mission to Ch’i, the disciple Zan requested grain for his mother. The Master said, “Give her a fu.” Yen requested more. “Give her a yi,” said the Master. Yen gave her five ping.

The Master said, “When Ch’ih was proceeding to Ch’i, he had fat horses to his carriage, and wore light furs. I have heard that a superior man helps the distressed, but does not add to the wealth of the rich.”

Yuan Sze being made governor of his town by the Master, he gave him nine hundred measures of grain, but Sze declined them.

The Master said, “Do not decline them. May you not give them away in the neighborhoods, hamlets, towns, and villages?”

The Master, speaking of Chung-kung, said, “If the calf of a brindled cow be red and homed, although men may not wish to use it, would the spirits of the mountains and rivers put it aside?”

The Master said, “Such was Hui that for three months there would be nothing in his mind contrary to perfect virtue. The others may attain to this on some days or in some months, but nothing more.”

Chi K’ang asked about Chung-yu, whether he was fit to be employed as an officer of government. The Master said, “Yu is a man of decision; what difficulty would he find in being an officer of government?” K’ang asked, “Is Ts’ze fit to be employed as an officer of government?” and was answered, “Ts’ze is a man of intelligence; what difficulty would he find in being an officer of government?” And to the same question about Ch’iu the Master gave the same reply, saying, “Ch’iu is a man of various ability.”

The chief of the Chi family sent to ask Min Tsze-ch’ien to be governor of Pi. Min Tszech’ien said, “Decline the offer for me politely. If any one come again to me with a second invitation, I shall be obliged to go and live on the banks of the Wan.”

Po-niu being ill, the Master went to ask for him. He took hold of his hand through the window, and said, “It is killing him. It is the appointment of Heaven, alas! That such a man should have such a sickness! That such a man should have such a sickness!”

The Master said, “Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui! With a single bamboo dish of rice, a single gourd dish of drink, and living in his mean narrow lane, while others could not have endured the distress, he did not allow his joy to be affected by it. Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui!”

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.”

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.”

Tsze-yu being governor of Wu-ch’ang, the Master said to him, “Have you got good men there?” He answered, “There is Tan-t’ai Miehming, who never in walking takes a short cut, and never comes to my office, excepting on public business.”

The Master said, “Mang Chih-fan does not boast of his merit. Being in the rear on an occasion of flight, when they were about to enter the gate, he whipped up his horse, saying, “It is not that I dare to be last. My horse would not advance.”

The Master said, “Without the specious speech of the litanist T’o and the beauty of the prince Chao of Sung, it is difficult to escape in the present age.”

The Master said, “Who can go out but by the door? How is it that men will not walk according to these ways?”

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.”

The Master said, “Man is born for uprightness. If a man lose his uprightness, and yet live, his escape from death is the effect of mere good fortune.”

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.”

The Master said, “To those whose talents are above mediocrity, the highest subjects may be announced. To those who are below mediocrity, the highest subjects may not be announced.”

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.”

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.”

The Master said, “Ch’i, by one change, would come to the State of Lu. Lu, by one change, would come to a State where true principles predominated.”

The Master said, “A cornered vessel without corners—a strange cornered vessel! A strange cornered vessel!”

Tsai Wo asked, saying, “A benevolent man, though it be told him,—‘There is a man in the well” will go in after him, I suppose.” Confucius said, “Why should he do so?” A superior man may be made to go to the well, but he cannot be made to go down into it. He may be imposed upon, but he cannot be fooled.”

The Master said, “The superior man, extensively studying all learning, and keeping himself under the restraint of the rules of propriety, may thus likewise not overstep what is right.”

The Master having visited Nan-tsze, Tsze-lu was displeased, on which the Master swore, saying, “Wherein I have done improperly, may Heaven reject me, may Heaven reject me!”

The Master said, “Perfect is the virtue which is according to the Constant Mean! Rare for a long time has been its practice among the people.”

Tsze-kung said, “Suppose the case of a man extensively conferring benefits on the people, and able to assist all, what would you say of him? Might he be called perfectly virtuous?” The Master said, “Why speak only of virtue in connection with him? Must he not have the qualities of a sage? Even Yao and Shun were still solicitous about this.

“Now the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be established himself, seeks also to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others.

“To be able to judge of others by what is nigh in ourselves;—this may be called the art of virtue.”

7

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.”

The Master said, “The silent treasuring up of knowledge; learning without satiety; and instructing others without being wearied:—which one of these things belongs to me?”

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.”

When the Master was unoccupied with business, his manner was easy, and he looked pleased.

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.”

The Master said, “Let the will be set on the path of duty.

“Let every attainment in what is good be firmly grasped.

“Let perfect virtue be accorded with.

“Let relaxation and enjoyment be found in the polite arts.”

The Master said, “From the man bringing his bundle of dried flesh for my teaching upwards, I have never refused instruction to any one.”

The Master said, “I do not open up the truth to one who is not eager to get knowledge, nor help out any one who is not anxious to explain himself. When I have presented one corner of a subject to any one, and he cannot from it learn the other three, I do not repeat my lesson.”

When the Master was eating by the side of a mourner, he never ate to the full.

He did not sing on the same day in which he had been weeping.

The Master said to Yen Yuan, “When called to office, to undertake its duties; when not so called, to he retired;— it is only I and you who have attained to this.”

Tsze-lu said, “If you had the conduct of the armies of a great state, whom would you have to act with you?”

The Master said, “I would not have him to act with me, who will unarmed attack a tiger, or cross a river without a boat, dying without any regret. My associate must be the man who proceeds to action full of solicitude, who is fond of adjusting his plans, and then carries them into execution.”

The Master said, “If the search for riches is sure to be successful, though I should become a groom with whip in hand to get them, I will do so. As the search may not be successful, I will follow after that which I love.”

The things in reference to which the Master exercised the greatest caution were—fasting, war, and sickness.

When the Master was in Ch’i, he heard the Shao, and for three months did not know the taste of flesh. “I did not think’” he said, “that music could have been made so excellent as this.”

Yen Yu said, “Is our Master for the ruler of Wei?” Tsze-kung said, “Oh! I will ask him.”

He went in accordingly, and said, “What sort of men were Po-i and Shu-ch’i?” “They were ancient worthies,” said the Master. “Did they have any repinings because of their course?” The Master again replied, “They sought to act virtuously, and they did so; what was there for them to repine about?” On this, Tsze-kung went out and said, “Our Master is not for him.”

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 honors acquired by unrighteousness, are to me as a floating cloud.”

The Master said, “If some years were added to my life, I would give fifty to the study of the Yi, and then I might come to be without great faults.”

The Master’s frequent themes of discourse were—the Odes, the History, and the maintenance of the Rules of Propriety. On all these he frequently discoursed.

The Duke of Sheh asked Tsze-lu about Confucius, and Tsze-lu did not answer him.

The Master said, “Why did you not say to him,—He is simply a man, who in his eager pursuit of knowledge forgets his food, who in the joy of its attainment forgets his sorrows, and who does not perceive that old age is coming on?”

The Master said, “I am not one who was born in the possession of knowledge; I am one who is fond of antiquity, and earnest in seeking it there.”

The subjects on which the Master did not talk, were—extraordinary things, feats of strength, disorder, and spiritual beings.

The Master said, “When I walk along with two others, they may serve me as my teachers. I will select their good qualities and follow them, their bad qualities and avoid them.”

The Master said, “Heaven produced the virtue that is in me. Hwan T’ui—what can he do to me?”

The Master said, “Do you think, my disciples, that I have any concealments? I conceal nothing from you. There is nothing which I do that is not shown to you, my disciples; that is my way.”

There were four things which the Master taught,—letters, ethics, devotion of soul, and truthfulness.

The Master said, “A sage it is not mine to see; could I see a man of real talent and virtue, that would satisfy me.”

The Master said, “A good man it is not mine to see; could I see a man possessed of constancy, that would satisfy me.

“Having not and yet affecting to have, empty and yet affecting to be full, straitened and yet affecting to be at ease:—it is difficult with such characteristics to have constancy.”

The Master angled,—but did not use a net. He shot,—but not at birds perching.

The Master said, “There may be those who act without knowing why. I do not do so. Hearing much and selecting what is good and following it; seeing much and keeping it in memory: this is the second style of knowledge.”

It was difficult to talk profitably and reputably with the people of Hu-hsiang, and a lad of that place having had an interview with the Master, the disciples doubted.

The Master said, “I admit people’s approach to me without committing myself as to what they may do when they have retired. Why must one be so severe? If a man purify himself to wait upon me, I receive him so purified, without guaranteeing his past conduct.”

The Master said, “Is virtue a thing remote? I wish to be virtuous, and lo! virtue is at hand.”

The minister of crime of Ch’an asked whether the duke Chao knew propriety, and Confucius said, “He knew propriety.”

Confucius having retired, the minister bowed to Wu-ma Ch’i to come forward, and said, “I have heard that the superior man is not a partisan. May the superior man be a partisan also? The prince married a daughter of the house of WU, of the same surname with himself, and called her,—‘The elder Tsze of Wu.’ If the prince knew propriety, who does not know it?”

Wu-ma Ch’i reported these remarks, and the Master said, “I am fortunate! If I have any errors, people are sure to know them.”

When the Master was in company with a person who was singing, if he sang well, he would make him repeat the song, while he accompanied it with his own voice.

The Master said, “In letters I am perhaps equal to other men, but the character of the superior man, carrying out in his conduct what he professes, is what I have not yet attained to.”

The Master said, “The sage and the man of perfect virtue;—how dare I rank myself with them? It may simply be said of me, that I strive to become such without satiety, and teach others without weariness.” Kung-hsi Hwa said, “This is just what we, the disciples, cannot imitate you in.”

The Master being very sick, Tsze-lu asked leave to pray for him. He said, “May such a thing be done?” Tszelu replied, “It may. In the Eulogies it is said, ‘Prayer has been made for thee to the spirits of the upper and lower worlds.’” The Master said, “My praying has been for a long time.”

The Master said, “Extravagance leads to insubordination, and parsimony to meanness. It is better to be mean than to be insubordinate.”

The Master said, “The superior man is satisfied and composed; the mean man is always full of distress.”

The Master was mild, and yet dignified; majestic, and yet not fierce; respectful, and yet easy.

8

The Master said, “T’ai-po may be said to have reached the highest point of virtuous action. Thrice he declined the kingdom, and the people in ignorance of his motives could not express their approbation of his conduct.”

The Master said, “Respectfulness, without the rules of propriety, becomes laborious bustle; carefulness, without the rules of propriety, becomes timidity; boldness, without the rules of propriety, becomes insubordination; straightforwardness, without the rules of propriety, becomes rudeness.

“When those who are in high stations perform well all their duties to their relations, the people are aroused to virtue. When old friends are not neglected by them, the people are preserved from meanness.”

The philosopher Tsang being ill, he cared to him the disciples of his school, and said, “Uncover my feet, uncover my hands. It is said in the Book of Poetry, ‘We should be apprehensive and cautious, as if on the brink of a deep gulf, as if treading on thin ice, I and so have I been. Now and hereafter, I know my escape from all injury to my person. O ye, my little children.”

The philosopher Tsang being ill, Meng Chang went to ask how he was.

Tsang said to him, “When a bird is about to die, its notes are mournful; when a man is about to die, his words are good.

“There are three principles of conduct which the man of high rank should consider specially important:—that in his deportment and manner he keep from violence and heedlessness; that in regulating his countenance he keep near to sincerity; and that in his words and tones he keep far from lowness and impropriety. As to such matters as attending to the sacrificial vessels, there are the proper officers for them.”

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.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “Suppose that there is an individual who can be entrusted with the charge of a young orphan prince, and can be commissioned with authority over a state of a hundred li, and whom no emergency however great can drive from his principles:—is such a man a superior man? He is a superior man indeed.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “The officer may not be without breadth of mind and vigorous endurance. His burden is heavy and his course is long.

“Perfect virtue is the burden which he considers it is his to sustain;—is it not heavy? Only with death does his course stop;—is it not long?

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.”

The Master said, “The people may be made to follow a path of action, but they may not be made to understand it.”

The Master said, “The man who is fond of daring and is dissatisfied with poverty, will proceed to insubordination. So will the man who is not virtuous, when you carry your dislike of him to an extreme.”

The Master said, “Though a man have abilities as admirable as those of the Duke of Chau, yet if he be proud and niggardly, those other things are really not worth being looked at.”

The Master said, “It is not easy to find a man who has learned for three years without coming to be good.”

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 honor are things to be ashamed of.”

The Master said, “He who is not in any particular office has nothing to do with plans for the administration of its duties.”

The Master said, “When the music master Chih first entered on his office, the finish of the Kwan Tsu was magnificent;—how it filled the ears!”

The Master said, “Ardent and yet not upright, stupid and yet not attentive; simple and yet not sincere:—such persons I do not understand.”

The Master said, “Learn as if you could not reach your object, and were always fearing also lest you should lose it.”

The Master said, “How majestic was the manner in which Shun and Yu held possession of the empire, as if it were nothing to them!

The Master said, “Great indeed was Yao as a sovereign! How majestic was he! It is only Heaven that is grand, and only Yao corresponded to it. How vast was his virtue! The people could find no name for it.

“How majestic was he in the works which he accomplished! How glorious in the elegant regulations which he instituted!”

Shun had five ministers, and the empire was well governed.

King Wu said, “I have ten able ministers.”

Confucius said, “Is not the saying that talents are difficult to find, true? Only when the dynasties of T’ang and Yu met, were they more abundant than in this of Chau, yet there was a woman among them. The able ministers were no more than nine men.

“King Wan possessed two of the three parts of the empire, and with those he served the dynasty of Yin. The virtue of the house of Chau may be said to have reached the highest point indeed.”

The Master said, “I can find no flaw in the character of Yu. He used himself coarse food and drink, but displayed the utmost filial piety towards the spirits. His ordinary garments were poor, but he displayed the utmost elegance in his sacrificial cap and apron. He lived in a low, mean house, but expended all his strength on the ditches and water channels. I can find nothing like a flaw in Yu.”

9

The subjects of which the Master seldom spoke were—profitableness, and also the appointments of Heaven, and perfect virtue.

A man of the village of Ta-hsiang said, “Great indeed is the philosopher K’ung! His learning is extensive, and yet he does not render his name famous by any particular thing.”

The Master heard the observation, and said to his disciples, “What shall I practice? Shall I practice charioteering, or shall I practice archery? I will practice charioteering.”

The Master said, “The linen cap is that prescribed by the rules of ceremony, but now a silk one is worn. It is economical, and I follow the common practice.

“The rules of ceremony prescribe the bowing below the hall, but now the practice is to bow only after ascending it. That is arrogant. I continue to bow below the hall, though I oppose the common practice.”

There were four things from which the Master was entirely free. He had no foregone conclusions, no arbitrary predeterminations, no obstinacy, and no egoism.

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?”

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 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.’”

The Master said, “Am I indeed possessed of knowledge? I am not knowing. But if a mean person, who appears quite empty—like, ask anything of me, I set it forth from one end to the other, and exhaust it.”

The Master said, “The Fang bird does not come; the river sends forth no map:—it is all over with me!”

When the Master saw a person in a mourning dress, or any one with the cap and upper and lower garments of full dress, or a blind person, on observing them approaching, though they were younger than himself, he would rise up, and if he had to pass by them, he would do so hastily.

Yen Yuan, in admiration of the Master’s doctrines, sighed and said, “I looked up to them, and they seemed to become more high; I tried to penetrate them, and they seemed to become more firm; I looked at them before me, and suddenly they seemed to be behind.

“The Master, by orderly method, skillfully leads men on. He enlarged my mind with learning, and taught me the restraints of propriety.

“When I wish to give over the study of his doctrines, I cannot do so, and having exerted all my ability, there seems something to stand right up before me; but though I wish to follow and lay hold of it, I really find no way to do so.”

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?”

Tsze-kung said, “There is a beautiful gem here. Should I lay it up in a case and keep it? or should I seek for a good price and sell it?” The Master said, “Sell it! Sell it! But I would wait for one to offer the price.”

The Master was wishing to go and live among the nine wild tribes of the east.

Some one 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?”

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.”

The Master said, “Abroad, to serve the high ministers and nobles; at home, to serve one’s father and elder brothers; in all duties to the dead, not to dare not to exert one’s self; and not to be overcome of wine:—which one of these things do I attain to?”

The Master standing by a stream, said, “It passes on just like this, not ceasing day or night!”

The Master said, “I have not seen one who loves virtue as he loves beauty.”

The Master said, “The prosecution of learning may be compared to what may happen in raising a mound. If there want but one basket of earth to complete the work, and I stop, the stopping is my own work. It may be compared to throwing down the earth on the level ground. Though but one basketful is thrown at a time, the advancing with it my own going forward.”

The Master said, “Never flagging when I set forth anything to him;—ah! that is Hui.” The Master said of Yen Yuan, “Alas! I saw his constant advance. I never saw him stop in his progress.”

The Master said, “There are cases in which the blade springs, but the plant does not go on to flower! There are cases where it flowers but fruit is not subsequently produced!”

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.”

The Master said, “Can men refuse to assent to the words of strict admonition? But it is reforming the conduct because of them which is valuable. Can men refuse to be pleased with words of gentle advice? But it is unfolding their aim which is valuable. If a man be pleased with these words, but does not unfold their aim, and assents to those, but does not reform his conduct, I can really do nothing with him.”

The Master said, “Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles. Have no friends not equal to yourself. When you have faults, do not fear to abandon them.”

The Master said, “The commander of the forces of a large state may be carried off, but the will of even a common man cannot be taken from him.”

The Master said, “Dressed himself in a tattered robe quilted with hemp, yet standing by the side of men dressed in furs, and not ashamed;—ah! it is Yu who is equal to this!

“He dislikes none, he covets nothing;—what can he do but what is good!”

Tsze-lu kept continually repeating these words of the ode, when the Master said, “Those things are by no means sufficient to constitute perfect excellence.”

The Master said, “When the year becomes cold, then we know how the pine and the cypress are the last to lose their leaves.”

The Master said, “The wise are free from perplexities; the virtuous from anxiety; and the bold from fear.”

The Master said, “There are some with whom we may study in common, but we shall find them unable to go along with us to principles. Perhaps we may go on with them to principles, but we shall find them unable to get established in those along with us. Or if we may get so established along with them, we shall find them unable to weigh occurring events along with us.”

“How the flowers of the aspen-plum flutter and turn! Do I not think of you? But your house is distant.”

The Master said, “It is the want of thought about it. How is it distant?”

10

Confucius, in his village, looked simple and sincere, and as if he were not able to speak.

When he was in the prince’s ancestral temple, or in the court, he spoke minutely on every point, but cautiously.

When he was waiting at court, in speaking with the great officers of the lower grade, he spoke 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.

When the prince called him to employ him in the reception of a visitor, his countenance appeared to change, and his legs to move forward with difficulty.

He inclined himself to the other officers among whom he stood, moving his left or right arm, as their position required, but keeping the skirts of his robe before and behind evenly adjusted.

He hastened forward, with his arms like the wings of a bird.

When the guest had retired, he would report to the prince, “The visitor is not turning round any more.”

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 gateway; 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 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.

When he was carrying the scepter of his ruler, he seemed to bend his body, as if he were not able to bear its weight. He did not hold it higher than the position of the hands in making a bow, nor lower than their position in giving anything to another. His countenance seemed to change, and look apprehensive, and he dragged his feet along as if they were held by something to the ground.

In presenting the presents with which he was charged, he wore a placid appearance.

At his private audience, he looked highly pleased.

The superior man did not use a deep purple, or a puce color, in the ornaments of his dress.

Even in his undress, he did not wear anything of a red or reddish color.

In warm weather, he had a single garment either of coarse or fine texture, but he wore it displayed over an inner garment.

Over lamb’s fur he wore a garment of black; over fawn’s fur one of white; and over fox’s fur one of yellow.

The fur robe of his undress was long, with the right sleeve short.

He required his sleeping dress to be half as long again as his body.

When staying at home, he used thick furs of the fox or the badger.

When he put off mourning, he wore all the appendages of the girdle.

His undergarment, except when it was required to be of the curtain shape, was made of silk cut narrow above and wide below.

He did not wear lamb’s fur or a black cap on a visit of condolence.

On the first day of the month he put on his court robes, and presented himself at court.

When fasting, he thought it necessary to have his clothes brightly clean and made of linen cloth.

When fasting, he thought it necessary to change his food, and also to change the place where he commonly sat in the apartment.

He did not dislike to have his rice finely cleaned, nor to have his mince meat cut quite small.

He did not eat rice which had been injured by heat or damp and turned sour, nor fish or flesh which was gone. He did not eat what was discolored, or what was of a bad flavor, nor anything which was ill-cooked, or was not in season.

He did not eat meat which was not cut properly, nor what was served without its proper sauce.

Though there might be a large quantity of meat, he would not allow what he took to exceed the due proportion for the rice. It was only in wine that he laid down no limit for himself, but he did not allow himself to be confused by it.

He did not partake of wine and dried meat bought in the market.

He was never without ginger when he ate. He did not eat much.

When he had been assisting at the prince’s sacrifice, he did not keep the flesh which he received overnight. The flesh of his family sacrifice he did not keep over three days. If kept over three days, people could not eat it.

When eating, he did not converse. When in bed, he did not speak.

Although his food might be coarse rice and vegetable soup, he would offer a little of it in sacrifice with a grave, respectful air.

If his mat was not straight, he did not sit on it.

When the villagers were drinking together, upon those who carried staffs going out, he also went out immediately after.

When the villagers were going through their ceremonies to drive away pestilential influences, he put on his court robes and stood on the eastern steps.

When he was sending complimentary inquiries to any one in another state, he bowed twice as he escorted the messenger away.

Chi K’ang having sent him a present of physic, he bowed and received it, saying, “I do not know it. I dare not taste it.”

The stable being burned down, when he was at court, on his return he said, “Has any man been hurt?” He did not ask about the horses.

When the he would adjust his mat, first taste it, and then give it away to others. When the prince sent him a gift of undressed meat, he would have it cooked, and offer it to the spirits of his ancestors. When the prince sent him a gift of a living animal, he would keep it alive.

When he was in attendance on the prince and joining in the entertainment, the prince only sacrificed. He first tasted everything.

When he was ill and the prince came to visit him, he had his head to the east, made his court robes be spread over him, and drew his girdle across them.

When the prince’s order called him, without waiting for his carriage to be yoked, he went at once.

When he entered the ancestral temple of the state, he asked about everything.

When any of his friends died, if he had no relations offices, he would say, “I will bury him.”

When a friend sent him a present, though it might be a carriage and horses, he did not bow.

The only present for which he bowed was that of the flesh of sacrifice.

In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. At home, he did not put on any formal deportment.

When he saw any one in a mourning dress, though it might be an acquaintance, he would change countenance; when he saw any one wearing the cap of full dress, or a blind person, though he might be in his undress, he would salute him in a ceremonious manner.

To any person in mourning he bowed forward to the crossbar of his carriage; he bowed in the same way to any one bearing the tables of population.

When he was at an entertainment where there was an abundance of provisions set before him, he would change countenance and rise up.

On a sudden clap of thunder, or a violent wind, he would change countenance.

When he was about to mount his carriage, he would stand straight, holding the cord.

When he was in the carriage, he did not turn his head quite round, he did not talk hastily, he did not point with his hands.

Seeing the countenance, it instantly rises. It flies round, and by and by settles.

The Master said, “There is the hen-pheasant on the hill bridge. At its season! At its season!” Tsze-lu made a motion to it. Thrice it smelt him and then rose.

11

The Master said, “The men of former times in the matters of ceremonies and music were rustics, it is said, while the men of these latter times, in ceremonies and music, are accomplished gentlemen.

“If I have occasion to use those things, I follow the men of former times.”

The Master said, “Of those who were with me in Ch’an and Ts’ai, there are none to be found to enter my door.”

Distinguished for their virtuous principles and practice, there were Yen Yuan, Min Tsze-ch’ien, Zan Po-niu, and Chung-kung; for their ability in speech, Tsai Wo and Tsze-kung; for their administrative talents, Zan Yu and Chi Lu; for their literary acquirements, Tsze-yu and Tsze-hsia.

The Master said, “Hui gives me no assistance. There is nothing that I say in which he does not delight.”

The Master said, “Filial indeed is Min Tsze-ch’ien! Other people say nothing of him different from the report of his parents and brothers.”

Nan Yung was frequently repeating the lines about a white scepter stone. Confucius gave him the daughter of his elder brother to wife.

Chi K’ang asked which of the disciples loved to learn. Confucius replied to him, “There was Yen Hui; he loved to learn. Unfortunately his appointed time was short, and he died. Now there is no one who loves to learn, as he did.”

When Yen Yuan died, Yen Lu begged the carriage of the Master to sell and get an outer shell for his son’s coffin.

The Master said, “Every one calls his son his son, whether he has talents or has not talents. There was Li; when he died, he had a coffin but no outer shell. I would not walk on foot to get a shell for him, because, having followed in the rear of the great officers, it was not proper that I should walk on foot.”

When Yen Yuan died, the Master said, “Alas! Heaven is destroying me! Heaven is destroying me!”

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?”

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.”

Chi Lu asked about serving the spirits of the dead. The Master said, “While you are not able to serve men, how can you serve their spirits?” Chi Lu added, “I venture to ask about death?” He was answered, “While you do not know life, how can you know about death?”

The disciple Min was standing by his side, looking bland and precise; Tsze-lu, looking bold and soldierly; Zan Yu and Tsze-kung, with a free and straightforward manner. The Master was pleased.

He said, “Yu, there!—he will not die a natural death.”

Some parties in Lu were going to take down and rebuild the Long Treasury.

Min Tsze-ch’ien said, “Suppose it were to be repaired after its old style;—why must it be altered and made anew?”

The Master said, “This man seldom speaks; when he does, he is sure to hit the point.”

The Master said, “What has the lute of Yu to do in my door?”

The other disciples began not to respect Tszelu. The Master said, “Yu has ascended to the hall, though he has not yet passed into the inner apartments.”

Tsze-kung asked which of the two, Shih or Shang, was the superior. The Master said, “Shih goes beyond the due mean, and Shang does not come up to it.”

“Then,” said Tsze-kung, “the superiority is with Shih, I suppose.”

The Master said, “To go beyond is as wrong as to fall short.”

The head of the Chi family was richer than the duke of Chau had been, and yet Ch’iu collected his imposts for him, and increased his wealth.

The Master said, “He is no disciple of mine. My little children, beat the drum and assail him.”

Ch’ai is simple. Shan is dull. Shih is specious. Yu is coarse.

The Master said, “There is Hui! He has nearly attained to perfect virtue. He is often in want.

“Ts’ze does not acquiesce in the appointments of Heaven, and his goods are increased by him. Yet his judgments are often correct.”

Tsze-chang asked what were the characteristics of the good man. The Master said, “He does not tread in the footsteps of others, but moreover, he does not enter the chamber of the sage.”

The Master said, “If, because a man’s discourse appears solid and sincere, we allow him to be a good man, is he really a superior man? or is his gravity only in appearance?”

Tsze-lu asked whether he should immediately carry into practice what he heard. The Master said, “There are your father and elder brothers to be consulted;—why should you act on that principle of immediately carrying into practice what you hear?” Zan Yu asked the same, whether he should immediately carry into practice what he heard, and the Master answered, “Immediately carry into practice what you hear.” Kung-hsi Hwa said, “Yu asked whether he should carry immediately into practice what he heard, and you said, ‘There are your father and elder brothers to be consulted.’ Ch’iu asked whether he should immediately carry into practice what he heard, and you said, ‘Carry it immediately into practice.’ I, Ch’ih, am perplexed, and venture to ask you for an explanation.” The Master said, “Ch’iu is retiring and slow; therefore I urged him forward. Yu has more than his own share of energy; therefore I kept him back.”

The Master was put in fear in K’wang and Yen Yuan fell behind. The Master, on his rejoining him, said, “I thought you had died.” Hui replied, “While you were alive, how should I presume to die?”

Chi Tsze-zan asked whether Chung Yu and Zan Ch’iu could be called great ministers.

The Master said, “I thought you would ask about some extraordinary individuals, and you only ask about Yu and Ch’iu!

“What is called a great minister, is one who serves his prince according to what is right, and when he finds he cannot do so, retires.

“Now, as to Yu and Ch’iu, they may be called ordinary ministers.”

Tsze-zan said, “Then they will always follow their chief;—win they?”

The Master said, “In an act of parricide or regicide, they would not follow him.”

Tsze-lu got Tsze-kao appointed governor of Pi.

The Master said, “You are injuring a man’s son.”

Tsze-lu said, “There are, there, common people and officers; there are the altars of the spirits of the land and grain. Why must one read books before he can be considered to have learned?”

The Master said, “It is on this account that I hate your glib-tongued people.”

Tsze-lu, Tsang Hsi, Zan Yu, and Kunghsi Hwa were sitting by the Master.

He said to them, “Though I am a day or so older than you, do not think of that.

“From day to day you are saying, ‘We are not known.’ If some ruler were to know you, what would you like to do?”

Tsze-lu hastily and lightly replied, “Suppose the case of a state of ten thousand chariots; let it be straitened between other large cities; let it be suffering from invading armies; and to this let there be added a famine in corn and in all vegetables:—if I were intrusted with the government of it, in three years’ time I could make the people to be bold, and to recognize the rules of righteous conduct.” The Master smiled at him.

Turning to Yen Yu, he said, “Ch’iu, what are your wishes?” Ch’iu replied, “Suppose a state of sixty or seventy li square, or one of fifty or sixty, and let me have the government of it;—in three years’ time, I could make plenty to abound among the people. As to teaching them the principles of propriety, and music, I must wait for the rise of a superior man to do that.”

“What are your wishes, Ch’ih,” said the Master next to Kung-hsi Hwa. Ch’ih replied, “I do not say that my ability extends to these things, but I should wish to learn them. At the services of the ancestral temple, and at the audiences of the princes with the sovereign, I should like, dressed in the dark square-made robe and the black linen cap, to act as a small assistant.”

Last of all, the Master asked Tsang Hsi, “Tien, what are your wishes?” Tien, pausing as he was playing on his lute, while it was yet twanging, laid the instrument aside, and “My wishes,” he said, “are different from the cherished purposes of these three gentlemen.” “What harm is there in that?” said the Master; “do you also, as well as they, speak out your wishes.” Tien then said, “In this, the last month of spring, with the dress of the season all complete, along with five or six young men who have assumed the cap, and six or seven boys, I would wash in the I, enjoy the breeze among the rain altars, and return home singing.” The Master heaved a sigh and said, “I give my approval to Tien.”

The three others having gone out, Tsang Hsi remained behind, and said, “What do you think of the words of these three friends?” The Master replied, “They simply told each one his wishes.”

Hsi pursued, “Master, why did you smile at Yu?”

He was answered, “The management of a state demands the rules of propriety. His words were not humble; therefore I smiled at him.”

Hsi again said, “But was it not a state which Ch’iu proposed for himself?” The reply was, “Yes; did you ever see a territory of sixty or seventy li or one of fifty or sixty, which was not a state?”

Once more, Hsi inquired, “And was it not a state which Ch’ih proposed for himself?” The Master again replied, “Yes; who but princes have to do with ancestral temples, and with audiences but the sovereign? If Ch’ih were to be a small assistant in these services, who could be a great one?

12

Yen Yuan asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, “To subdue one’s self and return to propriety, is perfect virtue. If a man can for one day subdue himself and return to propriety, an under heaven will ascribe perfect virtue to him. Is the practice of perfect virtue from a man himself, or is it from others?”

Yen Yuan said, “I beg to ask the steps of that process.” The Master replied, “Look not at what is contrary to propriety; listen not to what is contrary to propriety; speak not what is contrary to propriety; make no movement which is contrary to propriety.” Yen Yuan then said, “Though I am deficient in intelligence and vigor, I will make it my business to practice this lesson.”

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 vigor, I will make it my business to practice this lesson.”

Sze-ma Niu asked about perfect virtue.

The Master said, “The man of perfect virtue is cautious and slow in his speech.”

“Cautious and slow in his speech!” said Niu;—”is this what is meant by perfect virtue?” The Master said, “When a man feels the difficulty of doing, can he be other than cautious and slow in speaking?”

Sze-ma Niu asked about the superior man. The Master said, “The superior man has neither anxiety nor fear.”

“Being without anxiety or fear!” said Nui;”does this constitute what we call the superior man?”

The Master said, “When internal examination discovers nothing wrong, what is there to be anxious about, what is there to fear?”

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 honors 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?”

Tsze-chang asked what constituted intelligence. The Master said, “He with whom neither slander that gradually soaks into the mind, nor statements that startle like a wound in the flesh, are successful may be called intelligent indeed. Yea, he with whom neither soaking slander, nor startling statements, are successful, may be called farseeing.”

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 an men; but if the people have no faith in their rulers, there is no standing for the state.”

Chi Tsze-ch’ang said, “In a superior man it is only the substantial qualities which are wanted;—why should we seek for ornamental accomplishments?”

Tsze-kung said, “Alas! Your words, sir, show you to be a superior man, but four horses cannot overtake the tongue. Ornament is as substance; substance is as ornament. The hide of a tiger or a leopard stripped of its hair, is like the hide of a dog or a goat stripped of its hair.”

The Duke Ai inquired of Yu Zo, saying, “The year is one of scarcity, and the returns for expenditure are not sufficient;—what is to be done?”

Yu Zo replied to him, “Why not simply tithe the people?”

“With two tenths, said the duke, “I find it not enough;—how could I do with that system of one tenth?”

Yu Zo answered, “If the people have plenty, their prince will not be left to want alone. If the people are in want, their prince cannot enjoy plenty alone.”

Tsze-chang having asked how virtue was to be exalted, and delusions to be discovered, the Master said, “Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles, and be moving continually to what is right,—this is the way to exalt one’s virtue.

“You love a man and wish him to live; you hate him and wish him to die. Having wished him to live, you also wish him to die. This is a case of delusion. ‘It may not be on account of her being rich, yet you come to make a difference.’”

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 not minister, the father not father, and the son not son, although I have my revenue, can I enjoy it?”

The Master said, “Ah! it is Yu, who could with half a word settle litigations!”

Tsze-lu never slept over a promise.

The Master said, “In hearing litigations, I am like any other body. What is necessary, however, is to cause the people to have no litigations.”

Tsze-chang asked about government. The Master said, “The art of governing is to keep its affairs before the mind without weariness, and to practice them with undeviating consistency.”

The Master said, “By extensively studying all learning, and keeping himself under the restraint of the rules of propriety, one may thus likewise not err from what is right.”

The Master said, “The superior man seeks to perfect the admirable qualities of men, and does not seek to perfect their bad qualities. The mean man does the opposite of this.”

Chi K’ang asked Confucius about government. Confucius replied, “To govern means to rectify. If you lead on the people with correctness, who will dare not to be correct?”

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.”

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 inferiors is like that between the wind and the grass. The grass must bend, when the wind blows across it.”

Tsze-chang asked, “What must the officer be, who may be said to be distinguished?”

The Master said, “What is it you call being distinguished?”

Tsze-chang replied, “It is to be heard of through the state, to be heard of throughout his clan.”

The Master said, “That is notoriety, not distinction.

“Now the man of distinction is solid and straightforward, and loves righteousness. He examines people’s words, and looks at their countenances. He is anxious to humble himself to others. Such a man will be distinguished in the country; he will be distinguished in his clan.

“As to the man of notoriety, he assumes the appearance of virtue, but his actions are opposed to it, and he rests in this character without any doubts about himself. Such a man will be heard of in the country; he will be heard of in the clan.”

Fan Ch’ih rambling with the Master under the trees about the rain altars, said, “I venture to ask how to exalt virtue, to correct cherished evil, and to discover delusions.”

The Master said, “Truly a good question!

“If doing what is to be done be made the first business, and success a secondary consideration:—is not this the way to exalt virtue? To assail one’s own wickedness and not assail that of others;—is not this the way to correct cherished evil? For a morning’s anger to disregard one’s own life, and involve that of his parents;—is not this a case of delusion?”

Fan Ch’ih asked about benevolence. The Master said, “It is to love all men.” He asked about knowledge. The Master said, “It is to know all men.”

Fan Ch’ih did not immediately understand these answers.

The Master said, “Employ the upright and put aside all the crooked; in this way the crooked can be made to be upright.”

Fan Ch’ih retired, and, seeing Tsze-hsia, he said to him, “A Little while ago, I had an interview with our Master, and asked him about knowledge. He said, ‘Employ the upright, and put aside all the crooked;—in this way, the crooked will be made to be upright.’ What did he mean?”

Tsze-hsia said, “Truly rich is his saying!

“Shun, being in possession of the kingdom, selected from among all the people, and employed Kai-yao-on which all who were devoid of virtue disappeared. T’ang, being in possession of the kingdom, selected from among all the people, and employed I Yin-and an who were devoid of virtue disappeared.”

Tsze-kung asked about friendship. The Master said, “Faithfully admonish your friend, and skillfully lead him on. If you find him impracticable, stop. Do not disgrace yourself.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “The superior man on grounds of culture meets with his friends, and by friendship helps his virtue.”

13

Tsze-lu asked about government. The Master said, “Go before the people with your example, and be laborious in their affairs.”

He requested further instruction, and was answered, “Be not weary in these things.”

Chung-kung, being chief minister to the head of the Chi family, asked about government. The Master said, “Employ first the services of your various officers, pardon small faults, and raise to office men of virtue and talents.”

Chung-kung said, “How shall I know the men of virtue and talent, so that I may raise them to office?” He was answered, “Raise to office those whom you know. As to those whom you do not know, will others neglect them?”

Tsze-lu said, “The ruler of Wei has been waiting for you, in order with you to administer the government. What will you consider the first thing to be done?”

The Master replied, “What is necessary is to rectify names.”

“So! indeed!” said Tsze-lu. “You are wide of the mark! Why must there be such rectification?”

The Master said, “How uncultivated you are, Yu! A superior man, in regard to what he does not know, shows a cautious reserve.

“If names be not correct, language is not in accordance with the truth of things. If language be not in accordance with the truth of things, affairs cannot be carried on to success.

“When affairs cannot be carried on to success, proprieties and music do not flourish. When proprieties and music do not flourish, punishments will not be properly awarded. When punishments are not properly awarded, the people do not know how to move hand or foot.

“Therefore a superior man considers it necessary that the names he uses may be spoken appropriately, and also that what he speaks may be carried out appropriately. What the superior man requires is just that in his words there may be nothing incorrect.”

Fan Ch’ih requested to be taught husbandry. The Master said, “I am not so good for that as an old husbandman.” He requested also to be taught gardening, and was answered, “I am not so good for that as an old gardener.”

Fan Ch’ih having gone out, the Master said, “A small man, indeed, is Fan Hsu! If a superior man love propriety, the people will not dare not to be reverent. If he love righteousness, the people will not dare not to submit to his example. If he love good faith, the people will not dare not to be sincere. Now, when these things obtain, the people from all quarters will come to him, bearing their children on their backs; what need has he of a knowledge of husbandry?”

The Master said, “Though a man may be able to recite the three hundred odes, yet if, when intrusted with a governmental charge, he knows not how to act, or if, when sent to any quarter on a mission, he cannot give his replies unassisted, notwithstanding the extent of his learning, of what practical use is it?”

The Master said, “When a prince’s personal conduct is correct, his government is effective without the issuing of orders. If his personal conduct is not correct, he may issue orders, but they will not be followed.”

The Master said, “The governments of Lu and Wei are brothers.”

The Master said of Ching, a scion of the ducal family of Wei, that he knew the economy of a family well. When he began to have means, he said, “Ha! here is a collection—!” When they were a little increased, he said, “Ha! this is complete!” When he had become rich, he said, “Ha! this is admirable!”

When the Master went to Weil Zan Yu acted as driver of his carriage.

The Master observed, “How numerous are the people!”

Yu said, “Since they are thus numerous, what more shall be done for them?” “Enrich them, was the reply.

“And when they have been enriched, what more shall be done?” The Master said, “Teach them.”

The Master said, “If there were any of the princes who would employ me, in the course of twelve months, I should have done something considerable. In three years, the government would be perfected.”

The Master said, “‘If good men were to govern a country in succession for a hundred years, they would be able to transform the violently bad, and dispense with capital punishments.’ True indeed is this saying!”

The Master said, “If a truly royal ruler were to arise, it would stir require a generation, and then virtue would prevail.”

The Master said, “If a minister make his own conduct correct, what difficulty will he have in assisting in government? If he cannot rectify himself, what has he to do with rectifying others?”

The disciple Zan returning from the court, the Master said to him, “How are you so late?” He replied, “We had government business.” The Master said, “It must have been family affairs. If there had been government business, though I am not now in office, I should have been consulted about it.”

The Duke Ting asked whether there was a single sentence which could make a country prosperous. Confucius replied, “Such an effect cannot be expected from one sentence.

“There is a saying, however, which people have —‘To be a prince is difficult; to be a minister is not easy.’

“If a ruler knows this,—the difficulty of being a prince,—may there not be expected from this one sentence the prosperity of his country?”

The duke then said, “Is there a single sentence which can ruin a country?” Confucius replied, “Such an effect as that cannot be expected from one sentence. There is, however, the saying which people have—‘I have no pleasure in being a prince, but only in that no one can offer any opposition to what I say!’

“If a ruler’s words be good, is it not also good that no one oppose them? But if they are not good, and no one opposes them, may there not be expected from this one sentence the ruin of his country?”

The Duke of Sheh asked about government.

The Master said, “Good government obtains when those who are near are made happy, and those who are far off are attracted.”

Tsze-hsia! being governor of Chu-fu, asked about government. The Master said, “Do not be desirous to have things done quickly; do not look at small advantages. Desire to have things done quickly prevents their being done thoroughly. Looking at small advantages prevents great affairs from being accomplished.”

The Duke of Sheh informed Confucius, saying, “Among us here there are those who may be styled upright in their conduct. If their father have stolen a sheep, they will bear witness to the fact.”

Confucius said, “Among us, in our part of the country, those who are upright are different from this. The father conceals the misconduct of the son, and the son conceals the misconduct of the father. Uprightness is to be found in this.”

Fan Ch’ih asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, “It is, in retirement, to be sedately grave; in the management of business, to be reverently attentive; in intercourse with others, to be strictly sincere. Though a man go among rude, uncultivated tribes, these qualities may not be neglected.”

Tsze-kung asked, saying, “What qualities must a man possess to entitle him to be called an officer? The Master said, “He who in his conduct of himself maintains a sense of shame, and when sent to any quarter will not disgrace his prince’s commission, deserves to be called an officer.”

Tsze-kung pursued, “I venture to ask who may be placed in the next lower rank?” And he was told, “He whom the circle of his relatives pronounce to be filial, whom his fellow villagers and neighbors pronounce to be fraternal.”

Again the disciple asked, “I venture to ask about the class still next in order.” The Master said, “They are determined to be sincere in what they say, and to carry out what they do. They are obstinate little men. Yet perhaps they may make the next class.”

Tsze-kung finally inquired, “Of what sort are those of the present day, who engage in government?” The Master said “Pooh! they are so many pecks and hampers, not worth being taken into account.”

The Master said, “Since I cannot get men pursuing the due medium, to whom I might communicate my instructions, I must find the ardent and the cautiously-decided. The ardent will advance and lay hold of truth; the cautiously-decided will keep themselves from what is wrong.”

The Master said, “The people of the south have a saying —‘A man without constancy cannot be either a wizard or a doctor.’ Good!

“Inconstant in his virtue, he will be visited with disgrace.”

The Master said, “This arises simply from not attending to the prognostication.”

The Master said, “The superior man is affable, but not adulatory; the mean man is adulatory, but not affable.”

Tsze-kung asked, saying, “What do you say of a man who is loved by all the people of his neighborhood?” The Master replied, “We may not for that accord our approval of him.” “And what do you say of him who is hated by all the people of his neighborhood?” The Master said, “We may not for that conclude that he is bad. It is better than either of these cases that the good in the neighborhood love him, and the bad hate him.”

The Master said, “The superior man is easy to serve and difficult to please. If you try to please him in any way which is not accordant with right, he will not be pleased. But in his employment of men, he uses them according to their capacity. The mean man is difficult to serve, and easy to please. If you try to please him, though it be in a way which is not accordant with right, he may be pleased. But in his employment of men, he wishes them to be equal to everything.”

The Master said, “The superior man has a dignified ease without pride. The mean man has pride without a dignified ease.”

The Master said, “The firm, the enduring, the simple, and the modest are near to virtue.”

Tsze-lu asked, saying, “What qualities must a man possess to entitle him to be called a scholar?” The Master said, “He must be thus,—earnest, urgent, and bland:—among his friends, earnest and urgent; among his brethren, bland.”

The Master said, “Let a good man teach the people seven years, and they may then likewise be employed in war.”

The Master said, “To lead an uninstructed people to war, is to throw them away.”

14

Hsien asked what was shameful. The Master said, “When good government prevails in a state, to be thinking only of salary; and, when bad government prevails, to be thinking, in the same way, only of salary;—this is shameful.”

“When the love of superiority, boasting, resentments, and covetousness are repressed, this may be deemed perfect virtue.”

The Master said, “This may be regarded as the achievement of what is difficult. But I do not know that it is to be deemed perfect virtue.”

The Master said, “The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.”

The Master said, “When good government prevails in a state, language may be lofty and bold, and actions the same. When bad government prevails, the actions may be lofty and bold, but the language may be with some reserve.”

The Master said, “The virtuous will be sure to speak correctly, but those whose speech is good may not always be virtuous. Men of principle are sure to be bold, but those who are bold may not always be men of principle.”

Nan-kung Kwo, submitting an inquiry to Confucius, said, “I was skillful at archery, and Ao could move a boat along upon the land, but neither of them died a natural death. Yu and Chi personally wrought at the toils of husbandry, and they became possessors of the kingdom.” The Master made no reply; but when Nan-kung Kwo went out, he said, “A superior man indeed is this! An esteemer of virtue indeed is this!”

The Master said, “Superior men, and yet not always virtuous, there have been, alas! But there never has been a mean man, and, at the same time, virtuous.”

The Master said, “Can there be love which does not lead to strictness with its object? Can there be loyalty which does not lead to the instruction of its object?”

The Master said, “In preparing the governmental notifications, P’i Shan first made the rough draft; Shi-shu examined and discussed its contents; Tsze-yu, the manager of foreign intercourse, then polished the style; and, finally, Tsze-ch’an of Tung-li gave it the proper elegance and finish.”

Some one asked about Tsze-ch’an. The Master said, “He was a kind man.”

He asked about Tsze-hsi. The Master said, “That man! That man!”

He asked about Kwan Chung. “For him,” said the Master, “the city of Pien, with three hundred families, was taken from the chief of the Po family, who did not utter a murmuring word, though, to the end of his life, he had only coarse rice to eat.”

The Master said, “To be poor without murmuring is difficult. To be rich without being proud is easy.”

The Master said, “Mang Kung-ch’o is more than fit to be chief officer in the families of Chao and Wei, but he is not fit to be great officer to either of the states Tang or Hsieh.”

Tsze-lu asked what constituted a COMPLETE man. The Master said, “Suppose a man with the knowledge of Tsang Wu-chung, the freedom from covetousness of Kung-ch’o, the bravery of Chwang of Pien, and the varied talents of Zan Ch’iu; add to these the accomplishments of the rules of propriety and music;—such a one might be reckoned a COMPLETE man.”

He then added, “But what is the necessity for a complete man of the present day to have all these things? The man, who in the view of gain, thinks of righteousness; who in the view of danger is prepared to give up his life; and who does not forget an old agreement however far back it extends:—such a man may be reckoned a COMPLETE man.”

The Master asked Kung-ming Chia about Kung-shu Wan, saying, “Is it true that your master speaks not, laughs not, and takes not?”

Kung-ming Chia replied, “This has arisen from the reporters going beyond the truth.—My master speaks when it is the time to speak, and so men do not get tired of his speaking. He laughs when there is occasion to be joyful, and so men do not get tired of his laughing. He takes when it is consistent with righteousness to do so, and so men do not get tired of his taking.” The Master said, “So! But is it so with him?”

The Master said, “Tsang Wu-chung, keeping possession of Fang, asked of the duke of Lu to appoint a successor to him in his family. Although it may be said that he was not using force with his sovereign, I believe he was.”

The Master said, “The duke Wan of Tsin was crafty and not upright. The duke Hwan of Ch’i was upright and not crafty.”

Tsze-lu said, “The Duke Hwan caused his brother Chiu to be killed, when Shao Hu died, with his master, but Kwan Chung did not die. May not I say that he was wanting in virtue?”

The Master said, “The Duke Hwan assembled all the princes together, and that not with weapons of war and chariots:—it was all through the influence of Kwan Chung. Whose beneficence was like his? Whose beneficence was like his?”

Tsze-kung said, “Kwan Chung, I apprehend was wanting in virtue. When the Duke Hwan caused his brother Chiu to be killed, Kwan Chung was not able to die with him. Moreover, he became prime minister to Hwan.”

The Master said, “Kwan Chung acted as prime minister to the Duke Hwan made him leader of all the princes, and united and rectified the whole kingdom. Down to the present day, the people enjoy the gifts which he conferred. But for Kwan Chung, we should now be wearing our hair unbound, and the lappets of our coats buttoning on the left side.

“Will you require from him the small fidelity of common men and common women, who would commit suicide in a stream or ditch, no one knowing anything about them?”

The great officer, Hsien, who had been family minister to Kung-shu Wan, ascended to the prince’s court in company with Wan.

The Master, having heard of it, said, “He deserved to be considered WAN (the accomplished).”

The Master was speaking about the unprincipled course of the duke Ling of Weil when Ch’i K’ang said, “Since he is of such a character, how is it he does not lose his state?”

Confucius said, “The Chung-shu Yu has the superintendence of his guests and of strangers; the litanist, T’o, has the management of his ancestral temple; and Wang-sun Chia has the direction of the army and forces:—with such officers as these, how should he lose his state?”

The Master said, “He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good.”

Chan Ch’ang murdered the Duke Chien of Ch’i.

Confucius bathed, went to court and informed the Duke Ai, saying, “Chan Hang has slain his sovereign. I beg that you will undertake to punish him.”

The duke said, “Inform the chiefs of the three families of it.”

Confucius retired, and said, “Following in the rear of the great officers, I did not dare not to represent such a matter, and my prince says, “Inform the chiefs of the three families of it.”

He went to the chiefs, and informed them, but they would not act. Confucius then said, “Following in the rear of the great officers, I did not dare not to represent such a matter.”

Tsze-lu asked how a ruler should be served. The Master said, “Do not impose on him, and, moreover, withstand him to his face.”

The Master said, “The progress of the superior man is upwards; the progress of the mean man is downwards.”

The Master said, “In ancient times, men learned with a view to their own improvement. Nowadays, men learn with a view to the approbation of others.”

Chu Po-yu sent a messenger with friendly inquiries to Confucius.

Confucius sat with him, and questioned him. “What,” said he! “is your master engaged in?” The messenger replied, “My master is anxious to make his faults few, but he has not yet succeeded.” He then went out, and the Master said, “A messenger indeed! A messenger indeed!”

The Master said, “He who is not in any particular office has nothing to do with plans for the administration of its duties.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “The superior man, in his thoughts, does not go out of his place.”

The Master said, “The superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in his actions.”

The Master said, “The way of the superior man is threefold, but I am not equal to it. Virtuous, he is free from anxieties; wise, he is free from perplexities; bold, he is free from fear.

Tsze-kung said, “Master, that is what you yourself say.”

Tsze-kung was in the habit of comparing men together. The Master said, “Tsze must have reached a high pitch of excellence! Now, I have not leisure for this.”

The Master said, “I will not be concerned at men’s not knowing me; I will be concerned at my own want of ability.”

The Master said, “He who does not anticipate attempts to deceive him, nor think beforehand of his not being believed, and yet apprehends these things readily when they occur;—is he not a man of superior worth?”

Wei-shang Mau said to Confucius, “Ch’iu, how is it that you keep roosting about? Is it not that you are an insinuating talker?

Confucius said, “I do not dare to play the part of such a talker, but I hate obstinacy.”

The Master said, “A horse is called a ch’i, not because of its strength, but because of its other good qualities.”

Some one said, “What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?”

The Master said, “With what then will you recompense kindness?”

“Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.”

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!”

The Kung-po Liao, having slandered Tsze-lu to Chi-sun, Tsze-fu Ching-po informed Confucius of it, saying, “Our master is certainly being led astray by the Kung-po Liao, but I have still power enough left to cut Liao off, and expose his corpse in the market and in the court.”

The Master said, “If my principles are to advance, it is so ordered. If they are to fall to the ground, it is so ordered. What can the Kung-po Liao do where such ordering is concerned?”

The Master said, “Some men of worth retire from the world. Some retire from particular states. Some retire because of disrespectful looks. Some retire because of contradictory language.”

The Master said, “Those who have done this are seven men.”

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.” “It is he,—is it not?”—said the other, “who knows the impracticable nature of the times and yet will be doing in them.”

The Master was playing, one day, on a musical stone in Weil when a man carrying a straw basket passed door of the house where Confucius was, and said, “His heart is full who so beats the musical stone.”

A little while after, he added, “How contemptible is the one-ideaed obstinacy those sounds display! When one is taken no notice of, he has simply at once to give over his wish for public employment. ‘Deep water must be crossed with the clothes on; shallow water may be crossed with the clothes held up.’”

The Master said, “How determined is he in his purpose! But this is not difficult!”

Tsze-chang said, “What is meant when the Shu says that Kao-tsung, while observing the usual imperial mourning, was for three years without speaking?”

The Master said, “Why must Kao-tsung be referred to as an example of this? The ancients all did so. When the sovereign died, the officers all attended to their several duties, taking instructions from the prime minister for three years.”

The Master said, “When rulers love to observe the rules of propriety, the people respond readily to the calls on them for service.”

Tsze-lu asked what constituted the superior man. The Master said, “The cultivation of himself in reverential carefulness.” “And is this all?” said Tsze-lu. “He cultivates himself so as to give rest to others,” was the reply. “And is this all?” again asked Tsze-lu. The Master said, “He cultivates himself so as to give rest to all the people. He cultivates himself so as to give rest to all the people:—even Yao and Shun were still solicitous about this.”

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.

A youth of the village of Ch’ueh was employed by Confucius to carry the messages between him and his visitors. Some one asked about him, saying, “I suppose he has made great progress.”

The Master said, “I observe that he is fond of occupying the seat of a full-grown man; I observe that he walks shoulder to shoulder with his elders. He is not one who is seeking to make progress in learning. He wishes quickly to become a man.”

15

The Duke Ling of Wei asked Confucius about tactics. Confucius replied, “I have heard all about sacrificial vessels, but I have not learned military matters.” On this, he took his departure the next day.

When he was in Chan, their provisions were exhausted, and his followers became so in that they were unable to rise.

Tsze-lu, with evident dissatisfaction, said, “Has the superior man likewise to endure in this way?” The Master said, “The superior man may indeed have to endure want, but the mean man, when he is in want, gives way to unbridled license.”

The Master said, “Ts’ze, you think, I suppose, that I am one who learns many things and keeps them in memory?”

Tsze-kung replied, “Yes,—but perhaps it is not so?”

“No,” was the answer; “I seek a unity all pervading.”

The Master said, “Yu I those who know virtue are few.”

The Master said, “May not Shun be instanced as having governed efficiently without exertion? What did he do? He did nothing but gravely and reverently occupy his royal seat.”

Tsze-chang asked how a man should conduct himself, so as to be everywhere appreciated.

The Master said, “Let his words be sincere and truthful and his actions honorable and careful;—such conduct may be practiced among the rude tribes of the South or the North. If his words be not sincere and truthful and his actions not honorable and carefull will he, with such conduct, be appreciated, even in his neighborhood?

“When he is standing, let him see those two things, as it were, fronting him. When he is in a carriage, let him see them attached to the yoke. Then may he subsequently carry them into practice.”

Tsze-chang wrote these counsels on the end of his sash.

The Master said, “Truly straightforward was the historiographer Yu. When good government prevailed in his state, he was like an arrow. When bad government prevailed, he was like an arrow. A superior man indeed is Chu Po-yu! When good government prevails in his state, he is to be found in office. When bad government prevails, he can roll his principles up, and keep them in his breast.”

The Master said, “When a man may be spoken with, not to speak to him is to err in reference to the man. When a man may not be spoken with, to speak to him is to err in reference to our words. The wise err neither in regard to their man nor to their words.”

The Master said, “The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.”

Tsze-kung asked about the practice of virtue. The Master said, “The mechanic, who wishes to do his work well, must first sharpen his tools. When you are living in any state, take service with the most worthy among its great officers, and make friends of the most virtuous among its scholars.”

Yen Yuan asked how the government of a country should be administered.

The Master said, “Follow the seasons of Hsia.

“Ride in the state carriage of Yin.

“Wear the ceremonial cap of Chau.

“Let the music be the Shao with its pantomimes. Banish the songs of Chang, and keep far from specious talkers. The songs of Chang are licentious; specious talkers are dangerous.”

The Master said, “If a man take no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand.”

The Master said, “It is all over! I have not seen one who loves virtue as he loves beauty.”

The Master said, “Was not Tsang Wan like one who had stolen his situation? He knew the virtue and the talents of Hui of Liu-hsia, and yet did not procure that he should stand with him in court.”

The Master said, “He who requires much from himself and little from others, will keep himself from being the object of resentment.”

The Master said, “When a man is not in the habit of saying—‘What shall I think of this? What shall I think of this?’ I can indeed do nothing with him!”

The Master said, “When a number of people are together, for a whole day, without their conversation turning on righteousness, and when they are fond of carrying out the suggestions of a small shrewdness;—theirs is indeed a hard case.”

The Master said, “The superior man in everything considers righteousness to be essential. He performs it according to the rules of propriety. He brings it forth in humility. He completes it with sincerity. This is indeed a superior man.”

The Master said, “The superior man is distressed by his want of ability. He is not distressed by men’s not knowing him.”

The Master said, “The superior man dislikes the thought of his name not being mentioned after his death.”

The Master said, “What the superior man seeks, is in himself. What the mean man seeks, is in others.”

The Master said, “The superior man is dignified, but does not wrangle. He is sociable, but not a partisan.”

The Master said, “The superior man does not promote a man simply on account of his words, nor does he put aside good words because of the man.”

Tsze-kung asked, saying, “Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one’s life?” The Master said, “Is not RECIPROCITY such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others.”

The Master said, “In my dealings with men, whose evil do I blame, whose goodness do I praise, beyond what is proper? If I do sometimes exceed in praise, there must be ground for it in my examination of the individual.

“This people supplied the ground why the three dynasties pursued the path of straightforwardness.”

The Master said, “Even in my early days, a historiographer would leave a blank in his text, and he who had a horse would lend him to another to ride. Now, alas! there are no such things.”

The Master said, “Specious words confound virtue. Want of forbearance in small matters confounds great plans.”

The Master said, “When the multitude hate a man, it is necessary to examine into the case. When the multitude like a man, it is necessary to examine into the case.”

The Master said, “A man can enlarge the principles which he follows; those principles do not enlarge the man.”

The Master said, “To have faults and not to reform them,—this, indeed, should be pronounced having faults.”

The Master said, “I have been the whole day without eating, and the whole night without sleeping:—occupied with thinking. It was of no use. better plan is to learn.”

The Master said, “The object of the superior man is truth. Food is not his object. There is plowing;—even in that there is sometimes want. So with learning;—emolument may be found in it. The superior man is anxious lest he should not get truth; he is not anxious lest poverty should come upon him.”

The Master said, “When a man’s knowledge is sufficient to attain, and his virtue is not sufficient to enable him to hold, whatever he may have gained, he will lose again.

“When his knowledge is sufficient to attain, and he has virtue enough to hold fast, if he cannot govern with dignity, the people will not respect him.

“When his knowledge is sufficient to attain, and he has virtue enough to hold fast; when he governs also with dignity, yet if he try to move the people contrary to the rules of propriety:—full excellence is not reached.”

The Master said, “The superior man cannot be known in little matters; but he may be intrusted with great concerns. The small man may not be intrusted with great concerns, but he may be known in little matters.”

The Master said, “Virtue is more to man than either water or fire. I have seen men die from treading on water and fire, but I have never seen a man die from treading the course of virtue.”

The Master said, “Let every man consider virtue as what devolves on himself. He may not yield the performance of it even to his teacher.”

The Master said, “The superior man is correctly firm, and not firm merely.”

The Master said, “A minister, in serving his prince, reverently discharges his duties, and makes his emolument a secondary consideration.”

The Master said, “In teaching there should be no distinction of classes.”

The Master said, “Those whose courses are different cannot lay plans for one another.”

The Master said, “In language it is simply required that it convey the meaning.”

The music master, Mien, having called upon him, when they came to the steps, the Master said, “Here are the steps.” When they came to the mat for the guest to sit upon, he said, “Here is the mat.” When all were seated, the Master informed him, saying, “So and so is here; so and so is here.”

The music master, Mien, having gone out, Tsze-chang asked, saying. “Is it the rule to tell those things to the music master?”

The Master said, “Yes. This is certainly the rule for those who lead the blind.”

16

The head of the Chi family was going to attack Chwan-yu.

Zan Yu and Chi-lu had an interview with Confucius, and said, “Our chief, Chil is going to commence operations against Chwan-yu.”

Confucius said, “Ch’iu, is it not you who are in fault here?

“Now, in regard to Chwan-yu, long ago, a former king appointed its ruler to preside over the sacrifices to the eastern Mang; moreover, it is in the midst of the territory of our state; and its ruler is a minister in direct connection with the sovereign: What has your chief to do with attacking it?”

Zan Yu said, “Our master wishes the thing; neither of us two ministers wishes it.”

Confucius said, “Ch’iu, there are the words of Chau Zan, —‘When he can put forth his ability, he takes his place in the ranks of office; when he finds himself unable to do so, he retires from it. How can he be used as a guide to a blind man, who does not support him when tottering, nor raise him up when fallen?’

“And further, you speak wrongly. When a tiger or rhinoceros escapes from his cage; when a tortoise or piece of jade is injured in its repository:—whose is the fault?”

Zan Yu said, “But at present, Chwan-yu is strong and near to Pi; if our chief do not now take it, it will hereafter be a sorrow to his descendants.”

Confucius said. “Ch’iu, the superior man hates those declining to say—‘I want such and such a thing,’ and framing explanations for their conduct.

“I have heard that rulers of states and chiefs of families are not troubled lest their people should be few, but are troubled lest they should not keep their several places; that they are not troubled with fears of poverty, but are troubled with fears of a want of contented repose among the people in their several places. For when the people keep their several places, there will be no poverty; when harmony prevails, there will be no scarcity of people; and when there is such a contented repose, there will be no rebellious upsettings.

“So it is.—Therefore, if remoter people are not submissive, all the influences of civil culture and virtue are to be cultivated to attract them to be so; and when they have been so attracted, they must be made contented and tranquil.

“Now, here are you, Yu and Ch’iu, assisting your chief. Remoter people are not submissive, and, with your help, he cannot attract them to him. In his own territory there are divisions and downfalls, leavings and separations, and, with your help, he cannot preserve it.

“And yet he is planning these hostile movements within the state.—I am afraid that the sorrow of the Chi-sun family will not be on account of Chwan-yu, but will be found within the screen of their own court.”

Confucius said, “When good government prevails in the empire, ceremonies, music, and punitive military expeditions proceed from the son of Heaven. When bad government prevails in the empire, ceremonies, music, and punitive military expeditions proceed from the princes. When these things proceed from the princes, as a rule, the cases will be few in which they do not lose their power in ten generations. When they proceed from the great officers of the princes, as a rule, the case will be few in which they do not lose their power in five generations. When the subsidiary ministers of the great officers hold in their grasp the orders of the state, as a rule the cases will be few in which they do not lose their power in three generations.

“When right principles prevail in the kingdom, government will not be in the hands of the great officers.

“When right principles prevail in the kingdom, there will be no discussions among the common people.”

Confucius said, “The revenue of the state has left the ducal house now for five generations. The government has been in the hands of the great officers for four generations. On this account, the descendants of the three Hwan are much reduced.”

Confucius said, “There are three friendships which are advantageous, and three which are injurious. Friendship with the uplight; friendship with the sincere; and friendship with the man of much observation:—these are advantageous. Friendship with the man of specious airs; friendship with the insinuatingly soft; and friendship with the glib-tongued:—these are injurious.”

Confucius said, “There are three things men find enjoyment in which are advantageous, and three things they find enjoyment in which are injurious. To find enjoyment in the discriminating study of ceremonies and music; to find enjoyment in speaking of the goodness of others; to find enjoyment in having many worthy friends:—these are advantageous. To find enjoyment in extravagant pleasures; to find enjoyment in idleness and sauntering; to find enjoyment in the pleasures of feasting:—these are injurious.”

Confucius said, “There are three errors to which they who stand in the presence of a man of virtue and station are liable. They may speak when it does not come to them to speak;—this is called rashness. They may not speak when it comes to them to speak;—this is called concealment. They may speak without looking at the countenance of their superior;—this is called blindness.”

Confucius said, “There are three things which the superior man guards against. In youth, when the physical powers are not yet settled, he guards against lust. When he is strong and the physical powers are full of vigor, he guards against quarrelsomeness. When he is old, and the animal powers are decayed, he guards against covetousness.”

Confucius said, “There are three things of which the superior man stands in awe. He stands in awe of the ordinances of Heaven. He stands in awe of great men. He stands in awe of the words of sages.

“The mean man does not know the ordinances of Heaven, and consequently does not stand in awe of them. He is disrespectful to great men. He makes sport of the words of sages.”

Confucius said, “Those who are born with the possession of knowledge are the highest class of men. Those who learn, and so readily get possession of knowledge, are the next. Those who are dull and stupid, and yet compass the learning, are another class next to these. As to those who are dull and stupid and yet do not learn;—they are the lowest of the people.”

Confucius said, “The superior man has nine things which are subjects with him of thoughtful consideration. In regard to the use of his eyes, he is anxious to see clearly. In regard to the use of his ears, he is anxious to hear distinctly. In regard to his countenance, he is anxious that it should be benign. In regard to his demeanor, he is anxious that it should be respectful. In regard to his speech, he is anxious that it should be sincere. In regard to his doing of business, he is anxious that it should be reverently careful. In regard to what he doubts about, he is anxious to question others. When he is angry, he thinks of the difficulties his anger may involve him in. When he sees gain to be got, he thinks of righteousness.”

Confucius said, “Contemplating good, and pursuing it, as if they could not reach it; contemplating evil! and shrinking from it, as they would from thrusting the hand into boiling water:—I have seen such men, as I have heard such words.

“Living in retirement to study their aims, and practicing righteousness to carry out their principles:—I have heard these words, but I have not seen such men.”

The Duke Ching of Ch’i had a thousand teams, each of four horses, but on the day of his death, the people did not praise him for a single virtue. Po-i and Shu-ch’i died of hunger at the foot of the Shau-yang mountains, and the people, down to the present time, praise them.

“Is not that saying illustrated by this?”

Ch’an K’ang asked Po-yu, saying, “Have you heard any lessons from your father different from what we have all heard?”

Po-yu replied, “No. He was standing alone once, when I passed below the hall with hasty steps, and said to me, ‘Have you learned the Odes?’ On my replying ‘Not yet,’ he added, If you do not learn the Odes, you will not be fit to converse with.’ I retired and studied the Odes.

“Another day, he was in the same way standing alone, when I passed by below the hall with hasty steps, and said to me, ‘Have you learned the rules of Propriety?’ On my replying ‘Not yet,’ he added, ‘If you do not learn the rules of Propriety, your character cannot be established.’ I then retired, and learned the rules of Propriety.

“I have heard only these two things from him.”

Ch’ang K’ang retired, and, quite delighted, said, “I asked one thing, and I have got three things. I have heard about the Odes. I have heard about the rules of Propriety. I have also heard that the superior man maintains a distant reserve towards his son.”

The wife of the prince of a state is called by him Fu Zan. She calls herself Hsiao T’ung. The people of the state call her Chun Fu Zan, and, to the people of other states, they call her K’wa Hsiao Chun. The people of other states also call her Chun Fu Zan.

17

Yang Ho wished to see Confucius, but Confucius would not go to see him. On this, he sent a present of a pig to Confucius, who, having chosen a time when Ho was not at home went to pay his respects for the gift. He met him, however, on the way.

Ho said to Confucius, “Come, let me speak with you.” He then asked, “Can he be called benevolent who keeps his jewel in his bosom, and leaves his country to confusion?” Confucius replied, “No.” “Can he be called wise, who is anxious to be engaged in public employment, and yet is constantly losing the opportunity of being so?” Confucius again said, “No.” “The days and months are passing away; the years do not wait for us.” Confucius said, “Right; I will go into office.”

The Master said, “By nature, men are nearly alike; by practice, they get to be wide apart.”

The Master said, “There are only the wise of the highest class, and the stupid of the lowest class, who cannot be changed.”

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.”

Kung-shan Fu-zao, when he was holding Pi, and in an attitude of rebellion, invited the Master to visit him, who was rather inclined to go.

Tsze-lu was displeased. and said, “Indeed, you cannot go! Why must you think of going to see Kung-shan?”

The Master said, “Can it be without some reason that he has invited ME? If any one employ me, may I not make an eastern Chau?”

Tsze-chang asked Confucius about perfect virtue. Confucius said, “To be able to practice five things everywhere under heaven constitutes perfect virtue.” He begged to ask what they were, and was told, “Gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness. If you are grave, you will not be treated with disrespect. If you are generous, you will win all. If you are sincere, people will repose trust in you. If you are earnest, you will accomplish much. If you are kind, this will enable you to employ the services of others.

Pi Hsi inviting him to visit him, the Master was inclined to go.

Tsze-lu said, “Master, formerly I have heard you say, ‘When a man in his own person is guilty of doing evil, a superior man will not associate with him.’ Pi Hsi is in rebellion, holding possession of Chung-mau; if you go to him, what shall be said?”

The Master said, “Yes, I did use these words. But is it not said, that, if a thing be really hard, it may be ground without being made thin? Is it not said, that, if a thing be really white, it may be steeped in a dark fluid without being made black?

“Am I a bitter gourd? How can I be hung up out of the way of being eaten?”

The Master said, “Yu, have you heard the six words to which are attached six becloudings?” Yu replied, “I have not.”

“Sit down, and I will tell them to you.

“There is the love of being benevolent without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to a foolish simplicity. There is the love of knowing without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to dissipation of mind. There is the love of being sincere without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to an injurious disregard of consequences. There is the love of straightforwardness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to rudeness. There is the love of boldness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to insubordination. There is the love of firmness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to extravagant conduct.”

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.”

The Master said to Po-yu, “Do you give yourself to the Chau-nan and the Shao-nan. The man who has not studied the Chau-nan and the Shao-nan is like one who stands with his face right against a wall. Is he not so?” The Master said, “‘It is according to the rules of propriety,’ they say.—‘It is according to the rules of propriety,’ they say. Are gems and silk all that is meant by propriety? ‘It is music,’ they say.—‘It is music,’ they say. Are hers and drums all that is meant by music?”

The Master said, “He who puts on an appearance of stern firmness, while inwardly he is weak, is like one of the small, mean people;—yea, is he not like the thief who breaks through, or climbs over, a wall?”

The Master said, “Your good, careful people of the villages are the thieves of virtue.”

The Master said, To tell, as we go along, what we have heard on the way, is to cast away our virtue.”

The Master said, “There are those mean creatures! How impossible it is along with them to serve one’s prince!

“While they have not got their aims, their anxiety is how to get them. When they have got them, their anxiety is lest they should lose them.

“When they are anxious lest such things should be lost, there is nothing to which they will not proceed.”

The Master said, “Anciently, men had three failings, which now perhaps are not to be found.

“The high-mindedness of antiquity showed itself in a disregard of small things; the high-mindedness of the present day shows itself in wild license. The stern dignity of antiquity showed itself in grave reserve; the stern dignity of the present day shows itself in quarrelsome perverseness. The stupidity of antiquity showed itself in straightforwardness; the stupidity of the present day shows itself in sheer deceit.”

The Master said, “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with virtue.”

The Master said, “I hate the manner in which purple takes away the luster of vermilion. I hate the way in which the songs of Chang confound the music of the Ya. I hate those who with their sharp mouths overthrow kingdoms and families.”

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?”

Zu Pei wished to see Confucius, but Confucius declined, on the ground of being sick, to see him. When the bearer of this message went out at the door, the Master took his lute and sang to it, in order that Pei might hear him.

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?”

The Master said, “Hard is it to deal with who will stuff himself with food the whole day, without applying his mind to anything good! Are there not gamesters and chess players? To be one of these would still be better than doing nothing at all.”

Tsze-lu said, “Does the superior man esteem valor?” The Master said, “The superior man holds righteousness to be of highest importance. A man in a superior situation, having valor without righteousness, will be guilty of insubordination; one of the lower people having valor without righteousness, will commit robbery.”

Tsze-kung said, “Has the superior man his hatreds also?” The Master said, “He has his hatreds. He hates those who proclaim the evil of others. He hates the man who, being in a low station, slanders his superiors. He hates those who have valor merely, and are unobservant of propriety. He hates those who are forward and determined, and, at the same time, of contracted understanding.”

The Master then inquired, “Ts’ze, have you also your hatreds?” Tsze-kung replied, “I hate those who pry out matters, and ascribe the knowledge to their wisdom. I hate those who are only not modest, and think that they are valorous. I hate those who make known secrets, and think that they are straightforward.”

The Master said, “Of all people, girls and servants are the most difficult to behave to. If you are familiar with them, they lose their humility. If you maintain a reserve towards them, they are discontented.”

The Master said, “When a man at forty is the object of dislike, he will always continue what he is.”

18

The Viscount of Wei withdrew from the court. The Viscount of Chi became a slave to Chau. Pi-kan remonstrated with him and died.

Confucius said, “The Yin dynasty possessed these three men of virtue.”

Hui of Liu-hsia, being chief criminal judge, was thrice dismissed from his office. Some one said to him, “Is it not yet time for you, sir, to leave this?” He replied, “Serving men in an upright way, where shall I go to, and not experience such a thrice-repeated dismissal? If I choose to serve men in a crooked way, what necessity is there for me to leave the country of my parents?”

The duke Ching of Ch’i, with reference to the manner in which he should treat Confucius, said, “I cannot treat him as I would the chief of the Chi family. I will treat him in a manner between that accorded to the chief of the Chil and that given to the chief of the Mang family.” He also said, “I am old; I cannot use his doctrines.” Confucius took his departure.

The people of Ch’i sent to Lu a present of female musicians, which Chi Hwan received, and for three days no court was held. Confucius took his departure.

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.

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 K’ung Ch’iu.’, “Is it not K’ung of Lu?” asked he. “Yes,” was the reply, to which the other rejoined, “He knows the ford.”

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 K’ung Ch’iu of Lu?” asked the other. “I am,” replied he, and then Chieh-ni said to him, “Disorder, like a swelling flood, spreads over the whole empire, and who is he that will change its state for you? Rather 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.”

Tsze-lu, following the Master, happened to fall behind, when he met an old man, carrying across his shoulder on a staff a basket for weeds. Tsze-lu said to him, “Have you seen my master, sir?” The old man replied, “Your four limbs are unaccustomed to toil; you cannot distinguish the five kinds of grain:—who is your master?” With this, he planted his staff in the ground, and proceeded to weed.

Tsze-lu joined his hands across his breast, and stood before him.

The old man kept Tsze-lu to pass the night in his house, killed a fowl, prepared millet, and feasted him. He also introduced to him his two sons.

Next day, Tsze-lu went on his way, and reported his adventure. The Master said, “He is a recluse,” and sent Tszelu back to see him again, but when he got to the place, the old man was gone.

Tsze-lu then said to the family, “Not to take office is not righteous. If the relations between old and young may not be neglected, how is it that he sets aside the duties that should be observed between sovereign and minister? Wishing to maintain his personal purity, he allows that great relation to come to confusion. A superior man takes office, and performs the righteous duties belonging to it. As to the failure of right principles to make progress, he is aware of that.”

The men who have retired to privacy from the world have been Po-i, Shu-ch’i, Yuchung, I-yi, Chu-chang, Hui of Liu-hsia, and Shao-lien.

The Master said, “Refusing to surrender their wills, or to submit to any taint in their persons; such, I think, were Po-i and Shu-ch’i.

“It may be said of Hui of Liu-hsia! and of Shaolien, that they surrendered their wills, and submitted to taint in their persons, but their words corresponded with reason, and their actions were such as men are anxious to see. This is all that is to be remarked in them.

“It may be said of Yu-chung and I-yi, that, while they hid themselves in their seclusion, they gave a license to their words; but in their persons, they succeeded in preserving their purity, and, in their retirement, they acted according to the exigency of the times.

“I am different from all these. I have no course for which I am predetermined, and no course against which I am predetermined.”

The grand music master, Chih, went to Ch’i.

Kan, the master of the band at the second meal, went to Ch’u. Liao, the band master at the third meal, went to Ts’ai. Chueh, the band master at the fourth meal, went to Ch’in.

Fang-shu, the drum master, withdrew to the north of the river.

Wu, the master of the hand drum, withdrew to the Han.

Yang, the assistant music master, and Hsiang, master of the musical stone, withdrew to an island in the sea.

The duke of Chau addressed his son, the duke of Lu, saying, “The virtuous prince does not neglect his relations. He does not cause the great ministers to repine at his not employing them. Without some great cause, he does not dismiss from their offices the members of old families. He does not seek in one man talents for every employment.”

To Chau belonged the eight officers, Po-ta, Po-kwo, Chung-tu, Chung-hwu, Shu-ya, Shuhsia, Chi-sui, and Chi-kwa.

19

Tsze-chang said, “The scholar, trained for public duty, seeing threatening danger, is prepared to sacrifice his life. When the opportunity of gain is presented to him, he thinks of righteousness. In sacrificing, his thoughts are reverential. In mourning, his thoughts are about the grief which he should feel. Such a man commands our approbation indeed.

Tsze-chang said, “When a man holds fast to virtue, but without seeking to enlarge it, and believes in right principles, but without firm sincerity, what account can be made of his existence or non-existence?”

The disciples of Tsze-hsia asked Tsze-chang about the principles that should characterize mutual intercourse. Tsze-chang asked, “What does Tsze-hsia say on the subject?” They replied, “Tsze-hsia says: ‘Associate with those who can advantage you. Put away from you those who cannot do so.’” Tsze-chang observed, “This is different from what I have learned. The superior man honors the talented and virtuous, and bears with all. He praises the good, and pities the incompetent. Am I possessed of great talents and virtue?—who is there among men whom I will not bear with? Am I devoid of talents and virtue?—men will put me away from them. What have we to do with the putting away of others?”

Tsze-hsia said, “Even in inferior studies and employments there is something worth being looked at; but if it be attempted to carry them out to what is remote, there is a danger of their proving inapplicable. Therefore, the superior man does not practice them.”

Tsze-hsia said, “He, who from day to day recognizes what he has not yet, and from month to month does not forget what he has attained to, may be said indeed to love to learn.”

Tsze-hsia said, “There are learning extensively, and having a firm and sincere aim; inquiring with earnestness, and reflecting with self-application:—virtue is in such a course.”

Tsze-hsia said, “Mechanics have their shops to dwell in, in order to accomplish their works. The superior man learns, in order to reach to the utmost of his principles.”

Tsze-hsia said, “The mean man is sure to gloss his faults.”

Tsze-hsia said, “The superior man undergoes three changes. Looked at from a distance, he appears stern; when approached, he is mild; when he is heard to speak, his language is firm and decided.”

Tsze-hsia said, “The superior man, having obtained their confidence, may then impose labors on his people. If he have not gained their confidence, they will think that he is oppressing them. Having obtained the confidence of his prince, one may then remonstrate with him. If he have not gained his confidence, the prince will think that he is vilifying him.”

Tsze-hsia said, “When a person does not transgress the boundary line in the great virtues, he may pass and repass it in the small virtues.”

Tsze-yu said, “The disciples and followers of Tsze-hsia, in sprinkling and sweeping the ground, in answering and replying, in advancing and receding, are sufficiently accomplished. But these are only the branches of learning, and they are left ignorant of what is essential.—How can they be acknowledged as sufficiently taught?”

Tsze-hsia heard of the remark and said, “Alas! Yen Yu is wrong. According to the way of the superior man in teaching, what departments are there which he considers of prime importance, and delivers? what are there which he considers of secondary importance, and allows himself to be idle about? But as in the case of plants, which are assorted according to their classes, so he deals with his disciples. How can the way of a superior man be such as to make fools of any of them? Is it not the sage alone, who can unite in one the beginning and the consummation of learning?”

Tsze-hsia said, “The officer, having discharged all his duties, should devote his leisure to learning. The student, having completed his learning, should apply himself to be an officer.”

Tsze-hsia said, “Mourning, having been carried to the utmost degree of grief, should stop with that.”

Tsze-hsia said, “My friend Chang can do things which are hard to be done, but yet he is not perfectly virtuous.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “How imposing is the manner of Chang! It is difficult along with him to practice virtue.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “I heard this from our Master: ‘Men may not have shown what is in them to the full extent, and yet they will be found to do so, on the occasion of mourning for their parents.”

The philosopher Tsang said, “I have heard this from our Master:—‘The filial piety of Mang Chwang, in other matters, was what other men are competent to, but, as seen in his not changing the ministers of his father, nor his father’s mode of government, it is difficult to be attained to.’”

The chief of the Mang family having appointed Yang Fu to be chief criminal judge, the latter consulted the philosopher Tsang. Tsang said, “The rulers have failed in their duties, and the people consequently have been disorganized for a long time. When you have found out the truth of any accusation, be grieved for and pity them, and do not feel joy at your own ability.”

Tsze-kung said, “Chau’s wickedness was not so great as that name implies. Therefore, the superior man hates to dwell in a low-lying situation, where all the evil of the world will flow in upon him.”

Tsze-kung said, “The faults of the superior man are like the eclipses of the sun and moon. He has his faults, and all men see them; he changes again, and all men look up to him.”

Kung-sun Ch’ao of Wei asked Tszekung, saying. “From whom did Chung-ni get his learning?”

Tsze-kung replied, “The doctrines of Wan and Wu have not yet fallen to the ground. They are to be found among men. Men of talents and virtue remember the greater principles of them, and others, not possessing such talents and virtue, remember the smaller. Thus, all possess the doctrines of Wan and Wu. Where could our Master go that he should not have an opportunity of learning them? And yet what necessity was there for his having a regular master?”

Shu-sun Wu-shu observed to the great officers in the court, saying, “Tsze-kung is superior to Chung-ni.”

Tsze-fu Ching-po reported the observation to Tsze-kung, who said, “Let me use the comparison of a house and its encompassing wall. My wall only reaches to the shoulders. One may peep over it, and see whatever is valuable in the apartments.

“The wall of my Master is several fathoms high. If one do not find the door and enter by it, he cannot see the ancestral temple with its beauties, nor all the officers in their rich array.

“But I may assume that they are few who find the door. Was not the observation of the chief only what might have been expected?”

Shu-sun Wu-shu having spoken revilingly of Chung-ni, Tsze-kung said, “It is of no use doing so. Chung-ni cannot be reviled. The talents and virtue of other men are hillocks and mounds which may be stepped over. Chung-ni is the sun or moon, which it is not possible to step over. Although a man may wish to cut himself off from the sage, what harm can he do to the sun or moon? He only shows that he does not know his own capacity.

Ch’an Tsze-ch’ in, addressing Tsze-kung, said, “You are too modest. How can Chung-ni be said to be superior to you?”

Tsze-kung said to him, “For one word a man is often deemed to be wise, and for one word he is often deemed to be foolish. We ought to be careful indeed in what we say.

“Our Master cannot be attained to, just in the same way as the heavens cannot be gone up by the steps of a stair.

“Were our Master in the position of the ruler of a state or the chief of a family, we should find verified the description which has been given of a sage’s rule:—he would plant the people, and forthwith they would be established; he would lead them on, and forthwith they would follow him; he would make them happy, and forthwith multitudes would resort to his dominions; he would stimulate them, and forthwith they would be harmonious. While he lived, he would be glorious. When he died, he would be bitterly lamented. How is it possible for him to be attained to?”

20

Yao said, “Oh! you, Shun, the Heaven-determined order of succession now rests in your person. Sincerely hold fast the due Mean. If there shall be distress and want within the four seas, the Heavenly revenue will come to a perpetual end.”

Shun also used the same language in giving charge to Yu.

T’ang said, “I the child Li, presume to use a dark-colored victim, and presume to announce to Thee, O most great and sovereign God, that the sinner I dare not pardon, and thy ministers, O God, I do not keep in obscurity. The examination of them is by thy mind, O God. If, in my person, I commit offenses, they are not to be attributed to you, the people of the myriad regions. If you in the myriad regions commit offenses, these offenses must rest on my person.”

Chau conferred great gifts, and the good were enriched.

“Although he has his near relatives, they are not equal to my virtuous men. The people are throwing blame upon me, the One man.”

He carefully attended to the weights and measures, examined the body of the laws, restored the discarded officers, and the good government of the kingdom took its course.

He revived states that had been extinguished, restored families whose line of succession had been broken, and called to office those who had retired into obscurity, so that throughout the kingdom the hearts of the people turned towards him.

What he attached chief importance to were the food of the people, the duties of mourning, and sacrifices.

By his generosity, he won all. By his sincerity, he made the people repose trust in him. By his earnest activity, his achievements were great. By his justice, all were delighted.

Tsze-chang asked Confucius, saying, “In what way should a person in authority act in order that he may conduct government properly?” The Master replied, “Let him honor the five excellent, and banish away the four bad, things;—then may he conduct government properly.” Tsze-chang said, “What are meant by the five excellent things?” The Master said, “When the person in authority is beneficent without great expenditure; when he lays tasks on the people without their repining; when he pursues what he desires without being covetous; when he maintains a dignified ease without being proud; when he is majestic without being fierce.”

Tsze-chang said, “What is meant by being beneficent without great expenditure?” The Master replied, “When the person in authority makes more beneficial to the people the things from which they naturally derive benefit;— is not this being beneficent without great expenditure? When he chooses the labors which are proper, and makes them labor on them, who will repine? When his desires are set on benevolent government, and he secures it, who will accuse him of covetousness? Whether he has to do with many people or few, or with things great or small, he does not dare to indicate any disrespect;—is not this to maintain a dignified ease without any pride? He adjusts his clothes and cap, and throws a dignity into his looks, so that, thus dignified, he is looked at with awe;—is not this to be majestic without being fierce?”

Tsze-chang then asked, “What are meant by the four bad things?” The Master said, “To put the people to death without having instructed them;—this is called cruelty. To require from them, suddenly, the full tale of work, without having given them warning;—this is called oppression. To issue orders as if without urgency, at first, and, when the time comes, to insist on them with severity;—this is called injury. And, generally, in the giving pay or rewards to men, to do it in a stingy way;—this is called acting the part of a mere official.”

The Master said, “Without recognizing the ordinances of Heaven, it is impossible to be a superior man.

“Without an acquaintance with the rules of Propriety, it is impossible for the character to be established.

“Without knowing the force of words, it is impossible to know men.”

THE ART OF WAR

License: Open Access

Sun Tzu, Translated by Lionel Giles

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 hostilities 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 Sun Tzu on the Art of War

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,” whereupon 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.”

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

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 certain 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? (3) With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth? (4) On which side is discipline most rigorously 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 command! 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 horses, 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 equivalent 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 conjunction 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 besiege walled cities.

4. The rule is, not to besiege walled cities if it can possibly be avoided. The preparation of mantlets, movable shelters, 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 conditions 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 simply 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, Calculation; 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 damage, 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 defense 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 rampart 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 encampment 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 compelling 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 comprehend.

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 victory 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 classes). 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]

License: Public Domain

Translated by William Jennings

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 illustrating 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 characteristics. 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 evidently 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 Confucianism, 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 legend about Mencius’s mother from James Legge’s 1895 translation. It sheds light on the educational devotion of Mencius’s mother (e.g., her moving three times for his education), her Confucian beliefs, and her influence on Mencius.

Written by Kyounghye Kwon

Image 2.3: Mencius | Chinese philosopher and interpreter of Confucianism.

Author: User “PhidiasNL”

Source: Wikimedia Commons

License: Public Domain

2.5.1 The Mother of Mencius

License: Public Domain

Translated by William Jennings

Chapter II: Mencius and His opinions

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 uncertainty 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 particular 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 untruthfulness!” 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 indifference 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 private 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 anything 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. The most 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 Controversies

License: Public Domain

Chuang Tzu, Translated by James Legge

(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.

Image 2.4: Zhuangzi Butterfly Dream | Zhuangzi illustrates his idea of “transformation of things” with his butterfly dream.

Author: Unknown

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License: Public Domain

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, sealing 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 searching 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 affirmations 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 affirmations 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 doctrine 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 therefore 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, moreover, 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; proceeding 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 advantageous 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 certainly 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.”