1
In Lû there was a Wang Thâi who had lost both his feet; while
his disciples who followed and went about with him were as
numerous as those of Kung-nî. Khang Kî asked Kung-nî about him,
saying, 'Though Wang Thâi is a cripple, the disciples who follow
him about divide Lû equally with you, Master. When he stands, he
does not teach them; when he sits, he does not discourse to
them. But they go to him empty, and come back full. Is there
indeed such a thing as instruction without words? and while the
body is imperfect, may the mind be complete? What sort of man is
he?'
Kung-nî replied, 'This master is a sage. I have only been too
late in going to him. I will make him my teacher; and how much
more should those do so who are not equal to me! Why should only
the state of Lû follow him? I will lead on all under heaven with
me to do so.' Khang Kî rejoined, 'He is a man who has lost his
feet, and yet he is known as the venerable Wang;--he must be
very different from ordinary men. What is the peculiar way in
which he employs his mind?' The reply was, 'Death and life are
great considerations, but they could work no change in him.
Though heaven and earth were to be overturned and fall, they
would occasion him no loss. His judgment is fixed regarding that
in which there is no element of falsehood; and, while other
things change, he changes not. The transformations of things are
to him the developments prescribed for them, and he keeps fast
hold of the author of them.'
Khang Kî said, 'What do you mean? When we look at things,' said
Kung-nî, 'as they differ, we see them to be different, (as for
instance) the liver and the gall, or Khû and Yüeh; when we look
at them, as they agree, we see them all to be a unity. So it is
with this (Wang Thai). He takes no knowledge of the things for
which his ears and eyes are the appropriate organs, but his mind
delights itself in the harmony of (all excellent) qualities. He
looks at the unity which belongs to things, and does not
perceive where they have suffered loss. He looks on the loss of
his feet as only the loss of so much earth.'
Khang Kî said, 'He is entirely occupied with his (proper) self.
By his knowledge he has discovered (the nature of) his mind, and
to that he holds as what is unchangeable; but how is it that men
make so much of him?' The reply was, 'Men do not look into
running water as a mirror, but into still water;--it is only the
still water that can arrest them all, and keep them (in the
contemplation of their real selves). Of things which are what
they are by the influence of the earth, it is only the pine and
cypress which are the best instances;-in winter as in summer
brightly green. Of those which were what they were by the
influence of Heaven, the most correct examples were Yâo and
Shun; fortunate in (thus) maintaining their own life correct,
and so as to correct the lives of others.
'As a verification of the (power of) the original endowment,
when it has been preserved, take the result of fearlessness,-how
the heroic spirit of a single brave soldier has been thrown into
an army of nine hosts. If a man only seeking for fame and able
in this way to secure it can produce such an effect, how much
more (may we look for a greater result) from one whose rule is
over heaven and earth, and holds all things in his treasury, who
simply has his lodging in the six members of his body, whom his
ears and eyes serve but as conveying emblematic images of
things, who comprehends all his knowledge in a unity, and whose
mind never dies! If such a man were to choose a day on which he
would ascend far on high, men would (seek to) follow him there.
But how should he be willing to occupy himself with other men?'
2
Shän-thû Kîa was (another) man who had lost his feet. Along with
dze-khân of Käng he studied under the master Po-hwän Wû-zän.
Dze-khân said to him (one day), 'If I go out first, do you
remain behind; and if you go out first, I will remain behind.'
Next day they were again sitting together on the same mat in the
hall, when Dze-khân spoke the same words to him, adding,' Now I
am about to go out; will you stay behind or not? Moreover, when
you see one of official rank (like myself), you do not try to
get out of his way;-do you consider yourself equal to one of
official rank?' Shän-thû Kîa replied, 'In our Master's school is
there indeed such recognition required of official rank? You are
one, Sir, whose pleasure is in your official rank, and would
therefore take precedence of other men. I have heard that when a
mirror is bright, the dust does not rest on it; when dust rests
on it the mirror is not bright. When one dwells long with a man
of ability and virtue, he comes to be without error. There now
is our teacher whom you have chosen to make you greater than you
are; and when you still talk in this way, are you not in error?'
Dze-khân rejoined, 'A (shattered) object as you are, you would
still strive to make yourself out as good as Yâo! If I may form
an estimate of your virtue, might it not be sufficient to lead
you to the examination of yourself?' The other said, 'Most
criminals, in describing their offences, would make it out that
they ought not to have lost (their feet) for them; few would
describe them so as to make it appear that they should not have
preserved their feet. They are only the virtuous who know that
such a calamity was unavoidable, and therefore rest in it as
what was appointed for them. When men stand before (an archer
like) Î with his bent bow, if they are in the middle of his
field, that is the place where they should be hit; and if they
be not hit, that also was appointed. There are many with their
feet entire who laugh at me because I have lost my feet, which
makes me feel vexed and angry. But when I go to our teacher, I
throw off that feeling, and return (to a better mood);--he has
washed, without my knowing it, the other from me by (his
instructions in) what is good. I have attended him now for
nineteen years, and have not known that I am without my feet.
Now, you, Sir, and I have for the object of our study the
(virtue) which is internal, and not an adjunct of the body, and
yet you are continually directing your attention to my external
body;--are you not wrong in this?' Dze-khân felt uneasy, altered
his manner and looks, and said, 'You need not, Sir, say anything
more about it.'
3
In Lû there was a cripple, called Shû-shan the Toeless, who came
on his heels to see Kung-nî. Kung-nî said to him, 'By your want
of circumspection in the past, Sir, you have incurred such a
calamity;--of what use is your coming to me now?' Toeless said,
'Through my ignorance of my proper business and taking too
little care of my body, I came to lose my feet. But now I am
come to you, still possessing what is more honourable than my
feet, and which therefore I am anxious to preserve entire. There
is nothing which Heaven does not cover, and nothing which Earth
does not sustain; you, Master, were regarded by me as doing the
part of Heaven and Earth;--how could I know that you would
receive me in such a way?' Confucius rejoined, 'I am but a poor
creature. But why, my master, do you not come inside, where I
will try to tell you what I have learned?' When Toeless had gone
out, Confucius said, 'Be stimulated to effort, my disciples.
This toeless cripple is still anxious to learn to make up for
the evil of his former conduct;--how much more should those be
so whose conduct has been unchallenged!' Mr. Toeless, however,
told Lâo Tan (of the interview), saying, 'Khung Khiû, I
apprehend, has not yet attained to be a Perfect man. What has he
to do with keeping a crowd of disciples around him? He is
seeking to have the reputation of being an extraordinary and
marvellous man, and does not know that the Perfect man considers
this to be as handcuffs and fetters to him.' Lâo Tan said, 'Why
did you not simply lead him to see the unity of life and death,
and that the admissible and inadmissible belong to one category,
so freeing him from his fetters? Would this be possible?'
Toeless said, 'It is the punishment inflicted on him by Heaven.
How can he be freed from it?'
4
Duke Âi of Lû asked Kung-nî, saying, 'There was an ugly man in
Wei, called Âi-thâi Tho . His father-in-law, who lived with him,
thought so much of him that he could not be away from him. His
wife, when she saw him (ugly as he was), represented to her
parents, saying, "I had more than ten times rather be his
concubine than the wife of any other man." He was never heard to
take the lead in discussion, but always seemed to be of the same
opinion with others. He had not the position of a ruler, so as
to be able to save men from death. He had no revenues, so as to
be able to satisfy men's craving for food. He was ugly enough,
moreover, to scare the whole world. He agreed with men instead
of trying to lead them to adopt his views; his knowledge did not
go beyond his immediate neighbourhood. And yet his father-in-law
and his wife were of one mind about him in his presence (as I
have said);--he must have been different from other men. I
called him, and saw him. Certainly he was ugly enough to scare
the whole world. He had not lived with me, however. for many
months, when I was drawn to the man; and before he had been with
me a full year, I had confidence in him. The state being without
a chief minister, I (was minded) to commit the government to
him. He responded to my proposal sorrowfully, and looked
undecided as if he would fain have declined it. I was ashamed of
myself (as inferior to him), but finally gave the government
into his hands. In a little time, however, he left me and went
away. I was sorry and felt that I had sustained a loss, and as
if there were no other to share the pleasures of the kingdom
with me. What sort of man was he?'
Kung-nî said, 'Once when I was sent on a mission to Khû, I saw
some pigs sucking at their dead mother. After a little they
looked with rapid glances, when they all left her, and ran away.
They felt that she did not see them, and that she was no longer
like themselves. What they had loved in their mother was not her
bodily figure, but what had given animation to her figure. When
a man dies in battle, they do not at his interment employ the
usual appendages of plumes: as to supplying shoes to one who has
lost his feet, there is no reason why he should care for
them;--in neither case is there the proper reason for their
use'. The members of the royal harem do not pare their nails nor
pierce their ears; when a man is newly married, he remains (for
a time) absent from his official duties, and unoccupied with
them. That their bodies might be perfect was sufficient to make
them thus dealt with;--how much greater results should be
expected from men whose mental gifts are perfect! This Âi-thâi
Tho was believed by men, though he did not speak a word, and was
loved by them, though he did no special service for them. He
made men appoint him to the government of their states, afraid
only that he would not accept the appointment. He must have been
a man whose powers were perfect, though his realisation of them
was not manifested in his person.'
Duke Âi said, 'What is meant by saying that his powers were
complete?' Kung-nî replied, 'Death and life, preservation and
ruin, failure and success, poverty and wealth, superiority and
inferiority, blame and praise, hunger and thirst, cold and
heat;--these are the changes of circumstances, the operation of
our appointed lot. Day and night they succeed to one another
before us, but there is no wisdom able to discover to what they
owe their origination. They are not sufficient therefore to
disturb the harmony (of the nature), and are not allowed to
enter into the treasury of intelligence. To cause this harmony
and satisfaction ever to be diffused, while the feeling of
pleasure is not lost from the mind; to allow no break to arise
in this state day or night, so that it is always spring-time in
his relations with external things; in all his experiences to
realise in his mind what is appropriate to each season (of the
year):--these are the characteristics of him whose powers are
perfect.'
'And what do you mean by the realisation of these powers not
being manifested in the person?' (pursued further the duke). The
reply was, 'There is nothing so level as the surface of a pool
of still water. It may serve as an example of what I mean. All
within its circuit is preserved (in peace), and there comes to
it no agitation from without. The virtuous efficacy is the
perfect cultivation of the harmony (of the nature). Though the
realisation of this be not manifested in the person, things
cannot separate themselves (from its influence).'
Some days afterwards duke Âi told this conversation to Min-dze,
saying, 'Formerly it seemed to me the work of the sovereign to
stand in court with his face to the south, to rule the kingdom,
and to pay good heed to the accounts of the people concerned,
lest any should come to a (miserable) death;--this I considered
to be the sum (of his duty). Now that I have heard that
description of the Perfect man, I fear that my idea is not the
real one, and that, by employing myself too lightly, I may cause
the ruin of my state. I and Khung Khiû are not on the footing of
ruler and subject, but on that of a virtuous friendship.'
5
A person who had no lips, whose legs were bent so that he could
only walk on his toes, and who was (otherwise) deformed,
addressed his counsels to duke Ling of Wei, who was so pleased
with him, that he looked on a perfectly formed man as having a
lean and small neck in comparison with him. Another who had a
large goitre like an earthenware jar addressed his counsels to
duke Hwan of Khî, who was so pleased with him that he looked on
a perfectly formed man as having a neck lean and small in
comparison with him. So it is that when one's virtue is
extraordinary, (any deficiency in) his bodily form may be
forgotten. When men do not forget what is (easily) forgotten,
and forget what is not (easily) forgotten, we have a case of
real oblivion. Therefore the sagely man has that in which his
mind finds its enjoyment, and (looks on) wisdom as (but) the
shoots from an old stump; agreements with others are to him but
so much glue; kindnesses are (but the arts of) intercourse; and
great skill is (but as) merchants' wares. The sagely man lays no
plans;--of what use would wisdom be to him? He has no cutting
and hacking to do;--of what use would glue be to him? He has
lost nothing; of what use would arts of intercourse be to him?
He has no goods to dispose of;--what need has he to play the
merchant? (The want of) these four things are the nourishment of
(his) Heavenly (nature); that nourishment is its Heavenly food.
Since he receives this food from Heaven, what need has he for
anything of man's (devising)? He has the bodily form of man, but
not the passions and desires of (other) men. He has the form of
man, and therefore he is a man. Being without the passions and
desires of men, their approvings and disapprovings are not to be
found in him. How insignificant and small is (the body) by which
he belongs to humanity! How grand and great is he in the unique
perfection of his Heavenly (nature)!
Hui-dze said to Kwang-dze, 'Can a man indeed be without desires
and passions?' The reply was, 'He can.' 'But on what grounds do
you call him a man, who is thus without passions and desires?'
Kwang-dze said, 'The Tâo gives him his personal appearance (and
powers); Heaven gives him his bodily form; how should we not
call him a man?' Hui-dze rejoined, 'Since you call him a man,
how can he be without passions and desires?' The reply was, 'You
are misunderstanding what I mean by passions and desires. What I
mean when I say that he is without these is, that this man does
not by his likings and dislikings do any inward harm to his
body;--he always pursues his course without effort, and does not
(try to) increase his (store of) life.' Hui-dze rejoined, 'If
there were not that increasing of (the amount) of life, how
would he get his body'?' Kwang-dze said, 'The Tâo gives him his
personal appearance (and powers); Heaven gives him his bodily
form; and he does not by his likings and dislikings do any
internal harm to his body. But now you, Sir, deal with your
spirit as if it were something external to you, and subject your
vital powers to toil. You sing (your ditties), leaning against a
tree; you go to sleep, grasping the stump of a rotten dryandra
tree. Heaven selected for you the bodily form (of a man), and
you babble about what is strong and what is white.' |