The Complete Works Of Chuang Tzu –Translated by Burton Watson

Section TWENTY-EIGHT – GIVING AWAY A THRONE

YAO WANTED TO CEDE THE EMPIRE to Hsu Yu, but Hsu Yu refused to accept it.1 Then he tried to give it to Tzu-chou Chih-fu. Tzu-chou Chih-fu said, “Make me the Son of Heaven? – that would be all right, I suppose. But I happen to have a deep-seated and worrisome illness which I am just now trying to put in order. So I have no time to put the empire in order.” The empire is a thing of supreme importance, yet he would not allow it to harm his life. How much less, then, any other thing! Only he who has no use for the empire is fit to be entrusted with it.

Shun wanted to cede the empire to Tzu-chou Chih-po, but Tzu-chou Chih-po said, “I happen to have a deep-seated and worrisome illness which I am just now trying to put in order. So I have no time to put the empire in order.” The empire is a great vessel, yet he would not exchange his life for it. This is how the possessor of the Way differs from the vulgar man.

Shun tried to cede the empire to Shan Ch’uan, but Shan Ch’uan said, “I stand in the midst of space and time. Winter days I dress in skins and furs, summer days, in vine-cloth and hemp. In spring I plow and plant – this gives my body the labor and exercise it needs; in fall I harvest and store away – this gives my form the leisure and sustenance it needs. When the sun comes up, I work; when the sun goes down, I rest. I wander free and easy between heaven and earth, and my mind has found all that it could wish for. What use would I have for the empire? What a pity that you don’t understand me!” In the end he would not accept, but went away, entering deep into the mountains, and no one ever knew where he had gone.

Shun wanted to cede the empire to his friend, the farmer of Stone Door. The farmer of Stone Door said, “Such vigor and vitality you have, My Lord! You are a gentleman of perseverance and strength!” Then, surmising that Shun’s virtue would hardly amount to very much, he lifted his wife upon his back, took his son by the hand, and disappeared among the islands of the sea, never to return to the end of his days.

When the Great King Tan-fu was living in Pin, the Ti tribes attacked his territory.2 He offered them skins and silks, but they refused them; he offered them dogs and horses, but they refused them; he offered them pearls and jades, but they refused them. What the men of the Ti tribes were after was his land. The Great King Tan-fu said, “To live among the older brothers and send the younger brothers to their death; to live among the fathers and send the sons to their death – this I cannot bear! My people, be diligent and remain where you are. What difference does it make whether you are subjects of mine or of the men of Ti? I have heard it said, one must not injure that which he is nourishing for the sake of that by which he nourishes it.” 3 Then, using his riding whip as a cane, he departed, but his people, leading one another, followed after him, and in time founded a new state at the foot of Mount Ch’i.

The Great King Tan-fu may be said to have known how to respect life. He who knows how to respect life, though he may be rich and honored, will not allow the means of nourishing life to injure his person. Though he may be poor and humble, he will not allow concerns of profit to entangle his body. The men of the present age, if they occupy high office and are honored with titles, all think only of how serious a matter it would be to lose them. Eyes fixed on profit, they make light of the risk to their lives. Are they not deluded indeed?

The men of Yueh three times in succession assassinated their ruler. Prince Sou, fearful for his life, fled to the Cinnabar Cave, and the state of Yueh was left without a ruler. The men of Yueh, searching for Prince Sou and failing to find him, trailed him to the Cinnabar Cave, but he refused to come forth. They smoked him out with mugwort and placed him in the royal carriage. As Prince Sou took hold of the strap and pulled himself up into the carriage, he turned his face to heaven and cried, “To be a ruler! A ruler! Could I alone not have been spared this?” It was not that he hated to become their ruler; he hated the perils that go with being a ruler. Prince Sou, we may say, was the kind who would not allow the state to bring injury to his life. This, in fact, was precisely why the people of Yueh wanted to obtain him for their ruler.

The states of Han and Wei were fighting over a piece of territory. Master Hua Tzu went to see Marquis Chao-hsi, the ruler of Han. Marquis Chao-hsi had a worried look on his face. Master Hua Tzu said, “Suppose the men of the empire were to draw up a written agreement and place it before you, and the inscription read: `Seize this with your left hand and you will lose your right hand; seize it with your right hand and you will lose your left; yet he who seizes this will invariably gain possession of the empire.’ Would you be willing to seize it?”

“I would not!” said Marquis Chao-hsi.

“Very good!” exclaimed Master Hua Tzu. “From this I can see that your two hands are more important to you than the empire. And of course your body as a whole is a great deal more important than your two hands, while the state of Han is a great deal less important than the empire as a whole. Moreover, this piece of territory that you are fighting over is a great deal less important than the state of Han as a whole. And yet you make yourself miserable and endanger your life, worrying and fretting because you can’t get possession of it!”

“Excellent!” said Marquis Chao-hsi. “Many men have given me advice, but I have never been privileged to hear words such as these!” Master Hua Tzu, we may say, understood the difference between important and unimportant things.

The ruler of Lu, having heard that Yen Ho was a man who had attained the Way, sent a messenger with gifts to open up relations with him. Yen Ho was in his humble, back-alley home, wearing a robe of coarse hemp and feeding a cow, when the messenger from the ruler of Lu arrived, and he came to the door in person. “Is this the home of Yen Ho?” asked the messenger. “Yes, this is Ho’s house,” said Yen Ho. The messenger then presented his gifts, but Yen Ho said, “I’m afraid you must have gotten your instructions mixed up. You’ll surely be blamed if you give these to the wrong person, so you’d better check once more.” The messenger returned, checked his instructions, and then went looking for Yen Ho a second time, but he was never able to find him. Men like Yen Ho truly despise wealth and honor.

Hence it is said, The Truth of the Way lies in looking out for oneself; its fringes and leftovers consist in managing the state and its great families; its offal and weeds consist in governing the empire. The accomplishments of emperors and kings are superfluous affairs as far as the sage is concerned, not the means by which to keep the body whole and to care for life. Yet how many gentlemen of the vulgar world today endanger themselves and throw away their lives in the pursuit of mere things! How can you help pitying them? Whenever the sage makes a move, you may be certain that he has looked carefully to see where he is going and what he is about. Now suppose there were a man here who took the priceless pearl of the Marquis of Sui and used it as a pellet to shoot at a sparrow a thousand yards up in the air – the world would certainly laugh at him. Why? Because that which he is using is of such great value, and that which he is trying to acquire is so trifling. And life – surely it is of greater value than the pearl of the Marquis of Sui!

Master Lieh Tzu was living in poverty and his face had a hungry look. A visitor mentioned this to Tzu-yang, the prime minister of Cheng, saying, “Lieh Yu-k’ou appears to be a gentleman who has attained the Way. Here he is living in Your Excellency’s state, and in utter poverty! It would almost seem that Your Excellency has no fondness for such gentlemen, does it not?”

Tzu-yang immediately ordered his officials to dispatch a gift of grain. Master Lieh Tzu received the messenger, bowed twice, and refused the gift. When the messenger had left and Master Lieh Tzu had gone back into his house, his wife, filled with bitterness, beat her breast and said, “I have heard that the wives and children of men who have attained the Way all live in ease and happiness – but here we are with our hungry looks! His Excellency, realizing his error, has sent the Master something to eat, but the Master refuses to accept it – I suppose this is what they call Fate!”

Master Lieh Tzu laughed and said, “His Excellency does not know me personally – he sent me the grain simply because of what someone had told him. And someday he could just as well condemn me to punishment, again simply because of what someone told him. That’s why I refused to accept.”

In the end, as it happened, rebellion broke out among the people of Cheng and Tzu-yang was murdered.

When King Chao of Ch’u was driven from his state, the sheep butcher Yueh fled at the same time and followed King Chao into exile.4 When King Chao regained control of the state, he set about rewarding his followers, but when it came the turn of the sheep butcher Yueh, Yueh said, “His Majesty lost control of the state, and I lost my job as sheep butcher. Now His Majesty has regained the state, and I have also gotten back my sheep-butchering job. So my `title and stipend’ have already been restored to me. Why should there be any talk of a reward?”

“Force him to take it!” ordered the king.

But the sheep butcher Yueh said, “The fact that His Majesty lost the kingdom was no fault of mine – therefore I would not venture to accept any punishment for it. And the fact that His Majesty has regained the kingdom is no accomplishment of mine – therefore I would not venture to accept any reward for it.”

“Bring him into my presence!” ordered the king.

But the sheep butcher Yueh said, “According to the laws of the state of Ch’u, a man must have received weighty awards and accomplished great deeds before he may be granted an audience with the ruler. Now I was not wise enough to save the state, nor brave enough to die in combat with the invaders. When the armies of Wu entered the city of Ying, I was afraid of the dangers ahead and so I ran away from the invaders. I did not purposely follow after His Majesty. Now His Majesty wishes to disregard the laws and break the precedents by granting me an audience. But, in view of the facts, that would not win me any kind of reputation in the world!”

The king said to Tzu-ch’i, his minister of war, “The sheep butcher Yueh is a man of mean and humble position, and yet his pronouncements on righteousness are lofty indeed! I want you to promote him to one of the `three banner’ offices.” 5

When told of this, the sheep butcher Yueh said, “I am fully aware that the `three banner’ rank is a far more exalted place than a sheep butcher’s stall, and that a stipend of ten thousand chung is more wealth than I will ever acquire slaughtering sheep. But how could I, merely out of greed for title and stipend, allow my ruler to gain a reputation for irresponsibly handing out such favors? I dare not accept. Please let me go back to my sheep butcher’s stall.” And in the end he refused to accept the position.

Yuan Hsien lived in the state of Lu, in a tiny house that was hardly more than four walls. It was thatched with growing weeds, had a broken door made of woven brambles and branches of mulberry for the doorposts; jars with the bottoms out, hung with pieces of coarse cloth for protection from the weather, served as windows for its two rooms.6 The roof leaked and the floor was damp, but Yuan Hsien sat up in dignified manner, played his lute, and sang. Tzu-kung, wearing an inner robe of royal blue and an outer one of white, and riding in a grand carriage whose top was too tall to get through the entrance to the lane, came to call on Yuan Hsien. Yuan Hsien, wearing a bark cap and slippers with no heels, and carrying a goosefoot staff, came to the gate to greet him.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Tzu-kung. “What distress you are in, Sir!”

Yuan Hsien replied, “I have heard that if one lacks wealth, that is called poverty; and if one studies but cannot put into practice what he has learned, that is called distress. I am poor, but I am not in distress!”

Tzu-kung backed off a few paces with a look of embarrassment. Yuan Hsien laughed and said, “To act out of worldly ambition, to band with others in cliquish friendships, to study in order to show off to others, to teach in order to please one’s own pride, to mask one’s evil deeds behind benevolence and righteousness, to deck oneself out with carriages and horses – I could never bear to do such things!”

Tseng Tzu7 lived in the state of Wei, wearing a robe of quilted hemp with the outside worn through, his face blotchy and swollen, his hands and feet hard and callused. He would go three days without lighting a fire, ten years without making himself a new suit of clothes. If he tried to straighten his cap, the chin strap would break; if he pulled together his lapels, his elbows poked through the sleeves; if he stepped into his shoes, his heels broke out at the back. Yet, shuffling along, he would sing the sacrificial hymns of Shang in a voice that filled heaven and earth, as though it issued from a bell or a chiming stone. The Son of Heaven could not get him for his minister; the feudal lords could not get him for their friend. Hence he who nourishes his will forgets about his bodily form; he who nourishes his bodily form forgets about questions of gain; and he who arrives at the Way forgets about his mind.

Confucius said to Yen Hui, “Come here, Hui. Your family is poor and your position very lowly. Why don’t you become an official?”

Yen Hui replied, “I have no desire to become an official. I have fifty mou of farmland outside the outer wall,” which is enough to provide me with porridge and gruel, and I have ten mou of farmland inside the outer wall, which is enough to keep me in silk and hemp. Playing my lute gives me enjoyment enough, studying the Way of the Master gives me happiness enough. I have no desire to become an official.”

Confucius’ face took on a sheepish expression and he said, “Excellent, Hui – this determination of yours! I have heard that he who knows what is enough will not let himself be entangled by thoughts of gain; that he who really understands how to find satisfaction will not be afraid of other kinds of loss; and that he who practices the cultivation of what is within him will not be ashamed because he holds no position in society. I have been preaching these ideas for a long time, but now for the first time I see them realized in you, Hui. This is what 1 have gained.”

Prince Mou of Wei, who was living in Chung-shan, said to Chan Tzu, “My body is here beside these rivers and seas, but my mind is still back there beside the palace towers of Wei. What should I do about it?” 9

“Attach more importance to life!” said Chan Tzu. “He who regards life as important will think lightly of material gain.”

“I know that’s what I should do,” said Prince Mou. “But I can’t overcome my inclinations.”

“If you can’t overcome your inclinations, then follow them!” said Chan Tzu.

“But won’t that do harm to the spirit?”

“If you can’t overcome your inclinations and yet you try to force yourself not to follow them, this is to do a double injury to yourself. Men who do such double injury to themselves are never found in the ranks of the long-lived!”

Wei Mou was a prince of a state of ten thousand chariots, and it was more difficult for him to retire and live among the cliffs and caves than for an ordinary person. Although he did not attain the Way, we may say that he had the will to do so.

Confucius was in distress between Ch’en and Ts’ai. For seven days he ate no properly cooked food, but only a soup of greens without any grain in it. His face became drawn with fatigue, but he sat in his room playing the lute and singing. Yen Hui was outside picking vegetables, and Tzu-lu and Tzu-kung were talking with him. “Our Master was twice driven out of Lu,” they said. “They wiped out his footprints in Wei, chopped down a tree on him in Sung, made trouble for him in Shang and Chou, and are now besieging him here at Ch’en and Ts’ai. Anyone who kills him will be pardoned of all guilt, and anyone who wishes to abuse him is free to do so. Yet he keeps playing and singing, strumming the lute without ever letting the sound die away. Can a gentleman really be as shameless as all this?”

Yen Hui, having no answer, went in and reported what they had said to Confucius. Confucius pushed aside his lute, heaved a great sigh, and said, “Those two are picayune men! Call them in here – I’ll talk to them.”

When Tzu-lu and Tzu-kung had entered the room, Tzu-lu said, “I guess you could say that all of us are really blocked in this time.” 10

Confucius said, “What kind of talk is that! When the gentleman gets through to the Way, this is called `getting through.’ When he is blocked off from the Way, this is called `being blocked.’ Now I embrace the way of benevolence and righteousness, and with it encounter the perils of an age of disorder. Where is there any `being blocked’ about this? So I examine what is within me and am never blocked off from the Way. I face the difficulties ahead and do not lose its Virtue. When the cold days come and the frost and snow have fallen, then I understand how the pine and the cypress flourish.11 These perils here in Ch’en and Ts’ai are a blessing to me!” Confucius then turned complacently back to his lute and began to play and sing again. Tzu-lu excitedly snatched up a shield and began to dance, while Tzu-kung said, “I did not realize that Heaven is so far above, earth so far below!”

The men of ancient times who had attained the Way were happy if they were blocked in, and happy if they could get through. It was not the fact that they were blocked or not that made them happy. As long as you have really gotten hold of the Way,12 then being blocked or getting through are no more than the orderly alternation of cold and heat, of wind and rain. Therefore Hsu Yu enjoyed himself on the sunny side of the Ying River, and Kung Po found what he wanted on top of a hill.13

Shun wanted to cede the empire to his friend, a man from the north named Wu-tse. Wu-tse said, “What a peculiar man this ruler of ours is! First he lived among the fields and ditches, then he went wandering about the gate of Yao. Not content to let it rest at that, he now wants to take his disgraceful doings and dump them all over me. I would be ashamed even to see him!” Thereupon he threw himself into the deeps at Ch’ingling.

When T’ang was about to attack Chieh, he went to Pien Sui for help in plotting the strategy.14 “It’s nothing I’d know anything about!” said Pien Sui.

“Who would be good?” asked T’ang.

“I don’t know.”

T’ang then went to Wu Kuang and asked for help. “It’s nothing I’d know anything about!” said Wu Kuang.

“Who would be good?” asked T’ang.

“I don’t know.”

“How about Yi Yin?” asked T’ang.

“A man of violence and force, willing to put up with disgrace – I know nothing else about him.”

In the end T’ang went to Yi Yin and together they plotted the attack. Having overthrown Chieh, T’ang then offered to cede the throne to Pien Sui, Pien Sui refused, saying, “When you were plotting to attack Chieh, you came to me for advice – so you must have thought I was capable of treason. Now you have defeated Chieh and want to cede the throne to me – so you must think I am avaricious. I was born into this world of disorder, and now a man with no understanding of the Way twice comes and tries to slop his disgraceful doings all over me! I can’t bear to go on listening to such proposals again and again!” Thereupon he threw himself into the Ch’ou River and drowned.

T’ang tried to cede the throne to Wu Kuang, saying, “The wise man does the plotting, the military man the seizing, and the benevolent man the occupying – such was the way of antiquity. Now why will you not accept the position?”

But Wu Kuang refused, saying, “To depose your sovereign is no act of righteousness; to slaughter the people is no act of benevolence; to inflict trouble on other men and enjoy the benefits yourself is no act of integrity. I have heard it said, If the man is without righteousness, do not take his money; if the world is without the Way, do not tread its soil. And you expect me to accept such a position of honor? I can’t bear the sight of you any longer!” Thereupon he loaded a stone onto his back and drowned himself in the Lu River.

Long ago, when the Chou dynasty first came to power, there were two gentlemen who lived in Ku-chu named Po Yi and Shu Ch’i. They said to one another, “We hear that in the western region there is a man who seems to possess the Way. Let us try going to look for him.” When they reached the sunny side of Mount Ch’i, King Wu, hearing of them, sent his younger brother Tan to meet them.15 He offered to draw up a pact with them, saying, “You will be granted wealth of the second order and offices of the first rank, the pact to be sealed in blood and buried.” 16

The two men looked at each other and laughed, saying, “Hah – how peculiar! This is certainly not what we would call the Way! In ancient times, when Shen Nung held possession of the empire, he performed the seasonal sacrifices with the utmost reverence, but he did not pray for blessings. In his dealings with men, he was loyal and trustworthy and observed perfect order, but he did not seek anything from them. He delighted in ruling for the sake of ruling, he delighted in bringing order for the sake of order. He did not use other men’s failures to bring about his own success; he did not use other men’s degradation to lift himself up. Just because he happened along at a lucky time, he did not try to turn it to his own profit. Now the Chou, observing that the Yin has fallen into disorder, suddenly makes a show of its rule, honoring those who know how to scheme, handing out bribes,17 relying on weapons to maintain its might, offering sacrifices and drawing up pacts to impress men with its good faith, lauding its achievements in order to seize gain – this is simply to push aside disorder and replace it with violence!

“We have heard that the gentlemen of old, if they happened upon a well-ordered age, did not run away from public office; but if they encountered an age of disorder, they did not try to hold on to office at any cost. Now the world is in darkness and the virtue of the Chou in decline.18 Rather than remain side by side with the Chou and defile our bodies, it would be better to run away and thus protect the purity of our conduct!” The two gentlemen thereupon went north as far as Mount Shou-yang, where they eventually died of starvation.

Men such as Po Yi and Shu Ch’i will have nothing to do with wealth and eminence if they can possibly avoid it. To be lofty in principle and meticulous in conduct, delighting in one’s will alone without stooping to serve the world-such was the ideal of these two gentlemen.

Section TWENTY-NINE – ROBBER CHIH

CONFUCIUS WAS A FRIEND of Liu-hsia Chi, who had a younger brother known as Robber Chih. Robber Chih, with a band of nine thousand followers, rampaged back and forth across the empire, assaulting and terrorizing the feudal lords, tunneling into houses, prying open doors,1 herding off men’s horses and cattle, seizing their wives and daughters. Greedy for gain, he forgot his kin, gave not a look to father or mother, elder or younger brother, and performed no sacrifices to his ancestors. Whenever he approached a city, if it was that of a great state, the inhabitants manned their walls; if that of a small state, they fled into their strongholds. The ten thousand people all lived in dread of him.

Confucius said to Liu-hsia Chi, “One who is a father must be able to lay down the law to his son, and one who is an elder brother must be able to teach his younger brother. If a father cannot lay down the law to his son and an elder brother cannot teach his younger brother, then the relationship between father and son and elder and younger brother loses all value. Now here you are, Sir, one of the most talented gentlemen of the age, and your younger brother is Robber Chih, a menace to the world, and you seem unable to teach him any better! If I may say so, I blush for you. I would therefore like to go on your behalf and try to persuade him to change his ways.”

Liu-hsia Chi said, “You have remarked, Sir, that a father must be able to lay down the law to his son, and an elder brother must be able to teach his younger brother. But if the son will not listen when his father lays down the law, or if the younger brother refuses to heed his elder brother’s teachings, then even with eloquence such as yours, what is there to be done? Moreover, Chih is a man with a mind like a jetting fountain, a will like a blast of wind, with strength enough to fend off any enemy, and cunning enough to gloss over any evil. If you go along with his way of thinking, he is delighted, but if you go against him, he becomes furious, and it is nothing to him to curse people in the vilest language. You must not go near him!”

But Confucius paid no attention, and with Yen Hui as his carriage driver, and Tzu-kung on his right, he went off to visit Robber Chih. Robber Chih was just at that time resting with his band of followers on the sunny side of Mount T’ai and enjoying a late afternoon snack of minced human livers. Confucius stepped down from the carriage and went forward till he saw the officer in charge of receiving guests. “I am Kung Ch’iu, a native of Lu, and I have heard that your General is a man of lofty principles,” he said, respectfully bowing twice to the officer. The officer then entered and relayed the message. When Robber Chih heard this, he flew into a great rage. His eyes blazed like shining stars and his hair stood on end and bristled beneath his cap. “This must be none other than that crafty hypocrite Kung Ch’iu from the state of Lu! Well, tell him this for me. You make up your stories, invent your phrases, babbling absurd eulogies of kings Wen and Wu. Topped with a cap like a branching tree, wearing a girdle made from the ribs of a dead cow, you pour out your flood of words, your fallacious theories. You eat without ever plowing, clothe yourself without ever weaving. Wagging your lips, clacking your tongue, you invent any kind of `right’ or `wrong’ that suits you, leading astray the rulers of the world, keeping the scholars of the world from returning to the Source, capriciously setting up ideals of `filial piety’ and ‘brotherliness,’ all the time hoping to worm your way into favor with the lords of the fiefs or the rich and eminent! Your crimes are huge, your offenses grave .2 You had better run home as fast as you can, because if you don’t, I will take your liver and add it to this afternoon’s menu!”

Confucius sent in word again, saying, “I have the good fortune to know your brother Chi, and therefore I beg to be allowed to gaze from a distance at your feet beneath the curtain.” 3

When the officer relayed this message, Robber Chih said, “Let him come forward.” Confucius came scurrying forward, declined the mat that was set out for him, stepped back a few paces, and bowed twice to Robber Chih. Robber Chih, still in a great rage, sat with both legs sprawled out, leaning on his sword, his eyes glaring. In a voice like the roar of a nursing tigress, he said, “Ch’iu, come forward! If what you have to say pleases my fancy, you live. If it rubs me the wrong way, you die!”

Confucius said, “I have heard that in all the world there are three kinds of virtue. To grow up to be big and tall, with matchless good looks, so that everyone, young or old, eminent or humble, delights in you – this is the highest kind of virtue. To have wisdom that encompasses heaven and earth, to be able to speak eloquently on all subjects – this is middling virtue. To be brave and fierce, resolute and determined, gathering a band of followers around you – this is the lowest kind of virtue. Any man who possesses even one of these virtues is worthy to face south and call himself the Lonely One.4 And now here you are, General, with all three of them! You tower eight feet two inches in height, radiance streams from your face and eyes, your lips are like gleaming cinnabar, your teeth like ranged seashells, your voice attuned to the huang-chung pitch pipe – and yet your only title is `Robber Chih.’ If I may say so, General, this. is disgraceful – a real pity indeed! But if you have a mind to listen to my proposal, then I beg to be allowed to go as your envoy south to Wu and Yueh, north to Ch’i and Lu, east to Sung and Wei, and west to Chin and Ch’u, persuading them to create for you a great walled state several hundred li in size, to establish a town of several hundred thousand households, and to honor you as one of the feudal lords. Then you may make a new beginning with the world, lay down your weapons and disperse your followers, gather together and cherish your brothers and kinsmen, and join with them in sacrifices to your ancestors. This would be the act of a sage, a gentleman of true talent, and the fondest wish of the world.”

Robber Chih, furious as ever, said, “Ch’iu, come forward! Those who can be swayed with offers of gain or reformed by a babble of words are mere idiots, simpletons, the commonest sort of men! The fact that I am big and tall, and so handsome that everyone delights to look at me – this is a virtue inherited from my father and mother. Even without your praises, do you think I would be unaware of it? Moreover, I have heard that those who are fond of praising men to their faces are also fond of damning them behind their backs.

“Now you tell me about this great walled state, this multitude of people, trying to sway me with offers of gain, to lead me by the nose like any common fool. But how long do you think I could keep possession of it? There is no walled state larger than the empire itself, and yet, though Yao and Shun possessed the empire, their heirs were left with less land than it takes to stick the point of an awl into. T’ang and Wu set themselves up as Son of Heaven, yet in ages after, their dynasties were cut off and wiped out. Was this not because the gains they had acquired were so great?

“Moreover, I have heard that in ancient times the birds and beasts were many and the people few. Therefore the people all nested in the trees in order to escape danger, during the day gathering acorns and chestnuts, at sundown climbing backup to sleep in their trees. Hence they were called the people of the Nest-builder. In ancient times the people knew nothing about wearing clothes. In summer they heaped up great piles of firewood, in winter they burned them to keep warm. Hence they were called `the people who know how to stay alive.’ In the age of Shen Nung, the people lay down peaceful and easy, woke up wide-eyed and blank. They knew their mothers but not their fathers, and lived side by side with the elk and the deer. They plowed for their food, wove for their clothing, and had no thought in their hearts of harming one another. This was Perfect Virtue at its height!

“But the Yellow Emperor could not attain such virtue. He fought with Ch’ih Yu in the field of Cho-lu, until the blood flowed for a hundred li.’ Yao and Shun came to the throne, setting up a host of officials; T’ang banished his sovereign Chieh; King Wu murdered his sovereign Chou; and from this time on the strong oppressed the weak, the many abused the few. From T’ang and Wu until the present, all have been no more than a pack of rebels and wrongdoers. And now you come cultivating the ways of kings Wen and Wu, utilizing all the eloquence in the world in order to teach these things to later generations! In your flowing robes and loose-tied sash, you speak your deceits and act out your hypocrisies, confusing and leading astray the rulers of the world, hoping thereby to lay your hands on wealth and eminence. There is no worse robber than you! I don’t know why, if the world calls me Robber Chih, it doesn’t call you Robber Ch’iu!

“With your honeyed words you persuaded Tzu-lu to become your follower, to doff his jaunty cap, unbuckle his long sword, and receive instruction from you, so that all the world said, Wung Ch’iu knows how to suppress violence and put a stop to evil.’ But in the end Tzu-lu tried to kill the ruler of Wei, bungled the job, and they pickled his corpse and hung it up on the eastern gate of Wei. This was how little effect your teachings had on him! 6 You call yourself a gentleman of talent, a sage? Twice they drove you out of Lu; they wiped out your footprints in Wei, made trouble for you in Ch’i, and besieged you at Ch’en and Ts’ai – no place in the empire will have you around! You gave instruction to Tzu-lu and pickling was the disaster it brought him. You can’t look out for yourself to begin with, or for others either – so how can this `Way’ of yours be worth anything?

“There is no one, more highly esteemed by the world than the Yellow Emperor, and yet even the Yellow Emperor could not preserve his virtue intact, but fought on the field of Cho-lu until the blood flowed for a hundred li. Yao was a merciless father, Shun was an unfilial son, Yu was half paralyzed, T’ang banished his sovereign Chieh, King Wu attacked his sovereign Chou, and King Wen was imprisoned at Yu-li.7 All these seven men8 are held in high esteem by the world, and yet a close look shows that all of them for the sake of gain brought confusion to the Truth within them, that they forcibly turned against their true form and inborn nature. For doing so, they deserve the greatest shame!

“When the world talks of worthy gentlemen, we hear ‘Po Yi and Shu Ch’i.’ Yet Po Yi and Shu Ch’i declined the rulership of the state of Ku-chu and instead went and starved to death on Shou-yang Mountain, with no one to bury their bones and flesh. Pao Chiao made a great show of his conduct and condemned the world; he wrapped his arms around a tree and stood there till he died. Shen-t’u Ti offered a remonstrance that was unheeded; he loaded a stone onto his back and threw himself into a river, where the fish and turtles feasted on him. Chieh Tzu-t’ui was a model of fealty, going so far as to cut a piece of flesh from his thigh to feed his lord, Duke Wen. But later, when Duke Wen overlooked him, he went off in a rage, wrapped his arms around a tree, and burned to death.9 Wei Sheng made an engagement to meet a girl under a bridge. The girl failed to appear and the water began to rise, but, instead of leaving, he wrapped his arms around the pillar of the bridge and died. These six men were no different from a flayed dog, a pig sacrificed to the flood, a beggar with his alms-gourd in his hand. All were ensnared by thoughts of reputation and looked lightly on death, failing to remember the Source or to cherish the years that fate had given them.

“When the world talks about loyal ministers, we are told that there were none to surpass Prince Pi Kan and Wu Tzu-hsu. Yet Wu Tzu-hsu sank into the river and Pi Kan had his heart cut out.10 These two men are called loyal ministers by the world, and yet they ended up as the laughingstock of the empire. Looking at all these men, from the first I mentioned down to Wu Tzu-hsu and Pi Kan, it is obvious that none is worth respecting.

“Now in this sermon of yours, Ch’iu, if you tell me about the affairs of ghosts, then I have no way of judging what you say. But if you tell me about the affairs of men – and it is no more than what you’ve said so far – then I’ve heard it all already!

“And now I’m going to tell you something – about man’s true form. His eyes yearn to see colors, his ears to hear sound, his mouth to taste flavors, his will and spirit to achieve fulfillment. A man of the greatest longevity will live a hundred years; one of middling longevity, eighty years; and one of the least longevity, sixty years. Take away the time lost in nursing illnesses, mourning the dead, worry and anxiety, and in this life there are no more than four or five days in a month when a man can open his mouth and laugh. Heaven and earth are unending, but man has his time of death. Take this time-bound toy, put it down in these unending spaces, and whoosh! – it is over as quickly as the passing of a swift horse glimpsed through a crack in the wall! No man who is incapable of gratifying his desires and cherishing the years fate has given him can be called a master of the Way. What you have been telling me – I reject every bit of it! Quick, now – be on your way. I want no more of your talk. This `Way’ you tell me about is inane and inadequate, a fraudulent, crafty, vain, hypocritical affair, not the sort of thing that is capable of preserving the Truth within. How can it be worth discussing!”

Confucius bowed twice and scurried away. Outside the gate, he climbed into his carriage and fumbled three times in an attempt to grasp the reins, his eyes blank and unseeing, his face the color of dead ashes. Leaning on the crossbar, head bent down, he could not seem to summon up any spirit at all.

Returning to Lu, he had arrived just outside the eastern gate of the capital when he happened to meet Liu-hsia Chi. “I haven’t so much as caught sight of you for the past several days,” said Liu-hsia Chi, “and your carriage and horses look as though they’ve been out on the road – it couldn’t be that you went to see my brother Chih, could it?”

Confucius looked up to heaven, sighed, and said, “I did.”

“And he was enraged by your views, just as I said he would be?” said Liu-hsia Chi.

“He was,” said Confucius. “You might say that I gave myself the burning moxa treatment when I wasn’t even sick. I went rushing off to pat the tiger’s head and plait its whiskers – and very nearly didn’t manage to escape from its jaws!”

Tzu-chang said to Man Kou-te, “Why don’t you think more about your conduct? 11 No distinguished conduct means no trust; no trust means no official position; no official position means no gain. So if it’s reputation you have your eye on or gain you’re scheming for, then righteous conduct is the real key. And if you set aside considerations of reputation and gain and return to the true nature of the heart, then, too, I would say that you ought not to let a single day pass without taking thought for your conduct.”

Man Kou-te said, “Those who are shameless get rich, those who are widely trusted become famous. The really big reputation and gain seem to go to men who are shameless and trusted. So if your eyes are set on reputation and you scheme for gain, then trust is the real key. And if you set aside considerations of reputation and gain and return to the heart, then in your conduct I think you ought to hold fast to the Heaven within you.” 12

Tzu-chang said, “In ancient times the tyrants Chieh and Chou enjoyed the honor of being Son of Heaven and possessed all the wealth of the empire. Yet now if you say to a mere slave or groom, `Your conduct is like that of a Chieh or Chou,’ he will look shamefaced and in his heart will not acquiesce to such charges, for even a petty man despises the names of Chieh and Chou. Confucius and Mo Ti, on the other hand, were impoverished commoners. Yet now if you say to the highest minister of state, `Your conduct is like that of Confucius or Mo Ti,’ he will flush and alter his expression and protest that he is not worthy of such praise, for a gentleman sincerely honors their names. Therefore, to wield the power of a Son of Heaven does not necessarily mean to be honored, and to be poor and a commoner does not necessarily mean to be despised. The difference between being honored and being despised lies in the goodness or badness of one’s conduct.”

Man Kou-te said, “The petty thief is imprisoned but the big thief becomes a feudal lord, and we all know that righteous gentlemen are to be found at the gates of the feudal lords. In ancient times, Hsiao-po, Duke Huan of Ch’i, murdered his elder brother and took his sister-in-law for a wife, and yet Kuan Chung was willing to become his minister. Ch’ang, Viscount T’ien Ch’eng, murdered his sovereign and stole his state, and yet Confucius was willing to receive gifts from him.13 In pronouncement they condemned them, but in practice they bowed before them. Think how this contradiction between the facts of word and deed must have troubled their breasts! Could the two help but clash? So the book says, Who is bad? Who is good? The successful man becomes the head, the unsuccessful man becomes the tail.”

“But,” said Tzu-chang, “if you take no thought for conduct, then there cease to be any ethical ties between near and distant kin, any fitting distinctions between noble and humble, any proper order between elder and younger. How is one to maintain the distinctions decreed by the five moral principles and the six social relationships?”

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Man Kou-te said, “Yao killed his eldest son, Shun exiled his mother’s younger brother – does this indicate any ethical ties between near and distant kin? T’ang banished his sovereign Chieh, King Wu killed his sovereign Chou – does this indicate any fitting distinctions between noble and humble? King Chi received the inheritance, the Duke of Chou killed his elder brother – does this indicate any proper order between elder and younger? 14 The Confucians with their hypocritical speeches, the Mo-ists with their talk of universal love – do these indicate any attempt to maintain the distinctions decreed by the five moral principles and the six social relationships? Now your thoughts are all for reputation, mine all for gain, but neither reputation nor gain, in actual fact, accord with reason or reflect any true understanding of the Way. The other day, when we referred the matter to Wu Yueh for arbitration, he gave this answer: 15

” `The petty man will die for riches, the gentleman will die for reputation. In the manner in which they alter their true form and change their inborn nature, they differ. But in so far as they throw away what is already theirs and are willing to die for something that is not theirs, they are identical. So it is said, Do not be a petty man – return to and obey the Heaven within you; do not be a gentleman – follow the reason of Heaven. Crooked or straight, pursue to the limit the Heaven in you. Turn your face to the four directions, ebb and flow with the seasons. Right or wrong, hold fast to the round center upon which all turns, in solitude bring your will to completion, ramble in the company of the Way. Do not strive to make your conduct consistent,16 do not try to perfect your righteousness, or you will lose what you already have. Do not race after riches, do not risk your life for success, or you will let slip the Heaven within you. Pi Kan’s heart was cut out, Wu Tzu-hsu’s eyes were plucked from their sockets – loyalty brought them this misfortune. Honest Kung informed on his father, Wei Sheng died by drowning – trustworthiness was their curse. Pao Chiao stood there till he dried up; Shen Tzu would not defend himself – integrity did them this injury. Confucius did not see his mother, K’uang Tzu did not see his father – righteousness was their mistake.” These are the tales handed down from ages past, retold by the ages that follow. They show us that the gentleman who is determined to be upright in word and consistent in conduct will as a result bow before disaster, will encounter affliction.’ “

Never-Enough said to Sense-of-Harmony, “After all, there are no men who do not strive for reputation and seek gain. If you’re rich, people flock to you; flocking to you, they bow and scrape; and when they bow and scrape, this shows they honor you. To have men bowing and scraping, offering you honor – this is the way to insure length of years, ease to the body, joy to the will. And now you alone have no mind for these things. Is it lack of understanding? Or is it that you know their worth but just haven’t the strength to work for them? Are you, then, deliberately striving `to be upright and never forgetful’?”

Sense-of-Harmony said, “You and your type look at those who were born at the same time and who dwell in the same community and you decide that you are gentlemen who are far removed from the common lot, who are superior to the times. This shows that you have no guiding principle by which to survey the ages of past and present, the distinctions between right and wrong. Instead you join with the vulgar in changing as the world changes, setting aside what is most valuable, discarding what is most worthy of honor, thinking that there is something that has to be done, declaring that this is the way to insure length of years, ease to the body, joy to the will – but you are far from the mark indeed! The agitation of grief and sorrow, the solace of contentment and joy – these bring no enlightenment to the body. The shock of fear and terror, the elation of happiness and delight – these bring no enlightenment to the mind. You know you are doing what there is to do, but you don’t know why there should be things to do. This way, you might possess all the honor of the Son of Heaven, all the wealth of the empire, and yet never escape from disaster.”

“But,” said Never-Enough, “there is no advantage which riches cannot bring to a man – the ultimate in beauty, the heights of power, things that the Perfect Man cannot attain to, that the worthy man can never acquire. They buy the strength and daring of other men that make one awesome and powerful; they purchase the knowledge and schemes of other men that make one wise and well-informed; they borrow the virtue of other men that make one a man of worth and goodness. With no kingdom to reign over, the rich man commands as much respect as a ruler or a father. Beautiful sounds and colors, rich flavors, power and authority – a man need not send his mind to school before it will delight in them, need not train his body before it will find peace in them. What to desire, what to hate, what to seek, what to avoid – no one needs a teacher in these matters; they pertain to the inborn nature of man. Don’t think this applies only to me. Where is there a man in the whole world who would be willing to give them up? „

Sense-of-Harmony said, “When the wise man goes about doing something, he always moves for the sake of the hundred clans and does not violate the rules. Thus, if there is enough, he does not scramble for more. Having no reason to, he seeks nothing. But if there is not enough, he seeks, scrambling in all four directions, yet he does not think of himself as greedy. If there is a surplus, he gives it away. He can discard the whole empire and yet not think of himself as high-minded. Greed or high-mindedness in fact have nothing to do with standards imposed from the outside – they represent a turning within to observe the rules that are found there. So a man may wield all the power of a Son of Heaven and yet not use his high position to lord it over others; he may possess all the wealth in the empire and yet not exploit his riches to make a mock of others. He calculates the risk, thinks of what may be contrary and harmful to his inborn nature. Therefore he may decline what is offered him, but not because he hopes for reputation and praise. Yao and Shun ruled as emperors and there was harmony – but not because they sought to bring benevolence to the world; they would not have let `goodness’ injure their lives. Shan Ch’uan and Hsu Yu had the opportunity to become emperors and declined, but not because they wished to make an empty gesture of refusal; they would not have let such matters bring harm to themselves. All these men sought what was to their advantage and declined what was harmful. The world praises them as worthies, and it is all right if they enjoy such repute – but they were not striving for any reputation or praise.”

“But in order to maintain a reputation like theirs,” said Never-Enough, “one must punish the body and give up everything sweet, skimp and save merely to keep life going – in which case one is no different from a man who goes on year after year in sickness and trouble, never allowed to die!”

Sense-of-Harmony said, “A just measure brings fortune, an excess brings harm – this is so of all things, but much more so in the case of wealth. The ears of the rich man are regaled with sounds of bell and drum, flute and pipe; his mouth is treated to the flavor of grass- and grain-fed animals, of rich wine, until his desires are aroused and he has forgotten all about his proper business – this may be called disorder. Mired and drowned by swelling passions, he is like a man who carries a heavy load up the slope of a hill – this may be called suffering. Greedy for riches, he brings illness on himself; greedy for power, he drives himself to exhaustion. In the quietude of his home, he sinks into languor; body sleek and well-nourished, he is puffed up with passion – this may be called disease. In his desire for wealth, his search for gain, he crams his rooms to overflowing, as it were, and does not know how to escape, yet he lusts for more and cannot desist – this may be called shame. More wealth piled up than he could ever use, yet he is covetous and will not leave off, crowding his mind with care and fatigue, grasping for more and more with never a stop – this may be called worry. At home he is suspicious of the inroads of pilferers and inordinate demanders; abroad he is terrified of the attacks of bandits and robbers. At home he surrounds himself with towers and moats; abroad he dares not walk alone – this may be called terror. These six – disorder, suffering, disease, shame, worry, and terror – are the greatest evils in the world. Yet all are forgotten and he does not know enough to keep watch out for them. And once disaster has come, then, though he seeks with all his inborn nature and exhausts all his wealth in hopes of returning even for one day to the untroubled times, he can never do so.

“Therefore he who sets his eyes on reputation will find that it is nowhere to be seen; he who seeks for gain will find that it is not to be gotten. To entrap the mind and the body in a scramble for such things – is this not delusion indeed?”

Section THIRTY – DISCOURSING ON SWORDS1

IN ANCIENT TIMES King Wen of Chao was fond of swords. Expert swordsmen flocked to his gate, and over three thousand of them were supported as guests in his household, day and night engaging in bouts in his presence till the dead and wounded numbered more than a hundred men a year. Yet the king’s delight never seemed to wane and things went on in this way for three years, while the state sank into decline and the other feudal lords conspired against it.

The crown prince K’uei, distressed at this, summoned his retainers about him and said, “I will bestow a thousand pieces of gold upon any man who can reason with the king and make him give up these sword fights!”

“Chuang Tzu is the one who can do it,” said his retainers.

The crown prince thereupon sent an envoy with a thousand pieces of gold to present to Chuang Tzu, but Chuang Tzu refused to accept the gift. Instead he accompanied the envoy on his return and went to call on the crown prince. “What instructions do you have for me, that you present me with a thousand pieces of gold?” he asked.

“I had heard, Sir,” said the crown prince, “that you are an enlightened sage, and I wished in all due respect to offer this thousand in gold as a gift to your attendants. But if you refuse to accept it, then I dare say no more about the matter.”

Chuang Tzu said, “I have heard that the crown prince wishes to employ me because he hopes I can rid the king of this passion of his. Now if, in attempting to persuade His Majesty, I should arouse his anger and fail to satisfy your hopes, then I would be sentenced to execution. In that case, what use could I make of the gold? And if I should be able to persuade His Majesty and satisfy your hopes, then what could I ask for in the whole kingdom of Chao that would not be granted me?”

“The trouble is,” said the crown prince, “that my father, the king, refuses to see anyone but swordsmen.”

“Fine!” said Chuang Tzu. “I am quite able to handle a sword.”

“But the kind of swordsmen my father receives,” said the crown prince, “all have tousled heads and bristling beards, wear slouching caps tied with plain, coarse tassels, and robes that are cut short behind; they glare fiercely and have difficulty getting out their words. Men like that he is delighted with! Now, Sir, if you should insist upon going to see him in scholarly garb, the whole affair would go completely wrong from the start.”

“Then allow me to get together the garb of a swordsman,” said Chuang Tzu. After three days, he had his swordsman’s costume ready and went to call on the crown prince. The crown prince and he then went to see the king. The king, drawing his sword, waited with bare blade in hand. Chuang Tzu entered the door of the hall with unhurried steps, looked at the king but made no bow.

The king said, “Now that you have gotten the crown prince to prepare the way for you, what kind of instruction is it you intend to give me?”

“I have heard that Your Majesty is fond of swords, and so I have come with my sword to present myself before you.”

“And what sort of authority does your sword command?” asked the king.

“My sword cuts down one man every ten paces, and for a thousand li it never ceases its flailing!”

The king, greatly pleased, exclaimed, “You must have no rival in the whole world!”

Chuang Tzu said, “The wielder of the sword makes a display of emptiness, draws one out with hopes of advantage, is behind-time in setting out, but beforehand in arriving.2 May I be allowed to try what I can do?”

The king said, “You may leave now, Sir, and go to your quarters to await my command. When I am ready to hold the bout, I will request your presence again.”

The king then spent seven days testing the skill of his swordsmen. Over sixty were wounded or died in the process, leaving five or six survivors who were ordered to present themselves with their swords outside the king’s hall. Then the king sent for Chuang Tzu, saying, “Today let us see what happens when you cross swords with these gentlemen.”

Chuang Tzu said, “It is what I have long wished for.”

“What weapon will you use, Sir,” asked the king, “a long sword or a short one?”

“I am prepared to use any type at all. It happens that I have three swords – Your Majesty has only to indicate which you wish me to use. If I may, I will first explain them, and then put them to the test.”

“Let me hear about your three swords,” said the king.

“There is the sword of the Son of Heaven, the sword of the feudal lord, and the sword of the commoner.”

“What is the sword of the Son of Heaven like?” asked the king.

“The sword of the Son of Heaven? The Valley of Yen and the Stone Wall are its point, Ch’i and Tai its blade, Chin and Wey its spine, Chou and Sung its sword guard, Han and Wei its hilt.3′ The four barbarian tribes enwrap it, the four seasons enfold it, the seas of Po surround it, the mountains of Ch’ang girdle it. The five elements govern it, the demands of punishment and favor direct it. It is brought forth in accordance with the yin and yang, held in readiness in spring and summer, wielded in autumn and winter. Thrust it forward and there is nothing that will stand before it; raise it on high and there is nothing above it; press it down and there is nothing beneath it; whirl it about and there is nothing surrounding it. Above, it cleaves the drifting clouds; below, it severs the sinews of the earth. When this sword is once put to use, the feudal lords return to their former obedience and the whole world submits. This is the sword of the Son of Heaven.”

King Wen, dumfounded, appeared to be at an utter loss. Then he said, “What is the sword of the feudal lord like?”

“The sword of the feudal lord? It has wise and brave men for its point, men of purity and integrity for its blade, men of worth and goodness for its spine, men of loyalty and sageliness for its swordguard, heroes and prodigies for its hilt. This sword too, thrust forward, meets nothing before it; raised, it encounters nothing above; pressed down, it encounters nothing beneath it; whirled about, it meets nothing surrounding it. Above, it takes its model from the roundness of heaven, following along with the three luminous bodies of the sky.4 Below, it takes its model from the squareness of earth, following along with the four seasons. In the middle realm, it brings harmony to the wills of the people and peace to the four directions. This sword, once put into use, is like the crash of a thunderbolt: none within the four borders of the state will fail to bow down in submission, none will fail to heed and obey the commands of the ruler. This is the sword of the feudal lord.”

The king said, “What is the sword of the commoner like?”

“The sword of the commoner? It is used by men with tousled heads and bristling beards, with slouching caps tied with plain, coarse tassels and robes cut short behind, who glare fiercely and speak with great difficulty, who slash at one another in Your Majesty’s presence. Above, it lops off heads and necks; below, it splits open livers and lungs. Those who wield this sword of the commoner are no different from fighting cocks – any morning their lives may be cut off. They are of no use in the administration of the state.

“Now Your Majesty occupies the position of a Son of Heaven, and yet you show this fondness for the sword of the commoner.5 If I may be so bold, I think it rather unworthy of you!

The king thereupon led Chuang Tzu up into his hall, where the royal butler came forward with trays of food, but the king merely paced round and round the room.

“Your Majesty should seat yourself at ease and calm your spirits,” said Chuang Tzu., “The affair of the sword is all over and finished!”

After this, King Wen did not emerge from his palace for three months, and his swordsmen all committed suicide in their quarters.