|
1
Yâo proposed to resign the throne to Hsü Yû, who would not
accept it. He then offered it to Dze-kâu Kih-fû, but he said,
'It is not unreasonable to propose that I should occupy the
throne, but I happen to be suffering under a painful sorrow and
illness. While I am engaged in dealing with it, I have not
leisure to govern the kingdom.' Now the throne is the most
important of all positions, and yet this man would not occupy it
to the injury of his life; how much less would he have allowed
any other thing to do so! But only he who does not care to rule
the kingdom is fit to be entrusted with it.
Shun proposed to resign the throne to Dze-kâu Kih-po, who
declined in the very same terms as Kih-fû had done. Now the
kingdom is the greatest of all concerns, and yet this man would
not give his life in exchange for the throne. This shows how
they who possess the Tâo differ from common men.
Shun proposed to resign the throne to Shan Küan, who said, 'I am
a unit in the midst of space and time. In winter I wear skins
and furs; in summer, grass-cloth and linen; in spring I plough
and sow, my strength being equal to the toil; in autumn I gather
in my harvest, and am prepared to cease from labour and eat. At
sunrise I get up and work; at sunset I rest. So do I enjoy
myself between heaven and earth, and my mind is content:--why
should I have anything to do with the throne? Alas! that you,
Sir, do not know me better!' Thereupon he declined the proffer,
and went away, deep among the hills, no man knew where.
Shun proposed to resign the throne to his friend, a farmer of
Shih-hû. The farmer, however, said (to himself), 'How full of
vigour does our lord show himself, and how exuberant is his
strength! If Shun with all his powers be not equal (to the task
of government, how should I be so?).' On this he took his wife
on his back, led his son by the hand, and went away to the
sea-coast, from which to the end of his life he did not come
back.
When Thâi-wang Than-fû was dwelling in Pin, the wild tribes of
the North attacked him. He tried to serve them with skins and
silks, but they were not satisfied. He tried to serve them with
dogs and horses, but they were not satisfied, and then with
pearls and jade, but they were not satisfied. What they sought
was his territory. Thâi-wang Than-fû said (to his people), 'To
dwell with the elder brother and cause the younger brother to be
killed, or with the father and cause the son to be killed,--this
is what I cannot bear to do. Make an effort, my children, to
remain here. What difference is there between being my subjects,
or the subjects of those wild people? And I have heard that a
man does not use that which he employs for nourishing his people
to injure them.' Thereupon he took his staff and switch and
left, but the people followed him in an unbroken train, and he
established a (new) state at the foot of mount Khî. Thus
Thâi-wang Than-fû might be pronounced one who could give its
(due) honour to life. Those who are able to do so, though they
may be rich and noble, will not, for that which nourishes them,
injure their persons; and though they may be poor and mean, will
not, for the sake of gain, involve their bodies (in danger). The
men of the present age who occupy high offices and are of
honourable rank all lose these (advantages) again, and in the
prospect of gain lightly expose their persons to ruin:--is it
not a case of delusion?
The people of Yüeh three times in succession killed their ruler,
and the prince Sâu, distressed by it, made his escape to the
caves of Tan, so that Yüeh was left without a ruler. The people
sought for the prince, but could not find him, till (at last)
they followed him to the cave of Tan. The prince was not willing
to come out to them, but they smoked him out with moxa, and made
him mount the royal chariot. As he took hold of the strap, and
mounted the carriage, he looked up to heaven, and called out, 'O
Ruler, O Ruler, could you not have spared me this?' Prince Sâu
did not dislike being ruler;--he disliked the evil inseparable
from being so. It may be said of him that he would not for the
sake of a kingdom endanger his life; and this indeed was the
reason why the people of Yüeh wanted to get him for their ruler.
2
Han and Wei were contending about some territory which one of
them had wrested from the other. Dze-hwâ Dze went to see the
marquis Kâo-hsî (of Han), and, finding him looking sorrowful,
said, 'Suppose now that all the states were to sign an agreement
before you to the effect that "Whoever should with his left hand
carry off (the territory in dispute) should lose his right hand,
and whoever should do so with his right hand should lose his
left hand, but that, nevertheless, he who should carry it off
was sure to obtain the whole kingdom;" would your lordship feel
yourself able to carry it off?' The marquis said, 'I would not
carry it off,' and Dze-hwâ rejoined, 'Very good. Looking at the
thing from this point of view, your two arms are of more value
to you than the whole kingdom. But your body is of more value
than your two arms, and Han is of much less value than the whole
kingdom. The territory for which you are now contending is
further much less important than Han:--your lordship, since you
feel so much concern for your body, should not be endangering
your life by indulging your sorrow.
The marquis Kâo-hsî said, 'Good! Many have given me their
counsel about this matter; but I never heard what you have
said.' Dze-hwâ Dze may be said to have known well what was of
great importance and what was of little.
3
The ruler of Lû, having heard that Yen Ho had attained to the
Tâo, sent a messenger, with a gift of silks, to prepare the way
for further communication with him. Yen Ho was waiting at the
door of a mean house, in a dress of coarse hempen cloth, and
himself feeding a cow. When the messenger arrived, Yen Ho
himself confronted him. 'Is this,' said the messenger, 'the
house of Yen Ho?' 'It is,' was the reply; and the other was
presenting the silks to him, when he said, 'I am afraid you
heard (your instructions) wrongly, and that he who sent you will
blame you. You had better make sure.' The messenger on this
returned, and made sure that he was right; but when he came
back, and sought for Yen Ho, he was not to be found.
Yes; men like Yen Ho do of a truth dislike riches and honours.
Hence it is said, 'The true object of the Tâo is the regulation
of the person. Quite subordinate to this is its use in the
management of the state and the clan; while the government of
the kingdom is but the dust and refuse of it.' From this we may
see that the services of the Tîs and Kings are but a surplusage
of the work of the sages, and do not contribute to complete the
person or nourish the life. Yet the superior men of the present
age will, most of them, throw away their lives for the sake of
their persons, in pursuing their (material) objects;--is it not
cause for grief? Whenever a sage is initiating any movement, he
is sure to examine the motive which influences him, and what he
is about to do. Here, however, is a man, who uses a pearl like
that of the marquis of Sui to shoot a bird at a distance of
10,000 feet. All men will laugh at him; and why? Because the
thing which he uses is of great value, and what he wishes to get
is of little. And is not life of more value than the pearl of
the marquis of Sui?
4
Dze Lieh-dze was reduced to extreme poverty, and his person had
a hungry look. A visitor mentioned the case to Dze-yang, (the
premier) of Käng, saying, 'Lieh Yü-khâu, I believe, is a scholar
who has attained to the Tâo. Is it because our ruler does not
love (such) scholars, that he should be living in his state in
such poverty?' Dze-yang immediately ordered an officer to send
to him a supply of grain.
When Lieh-dze saw the messenger, he bowed to him twice, and
declined the gift, on which the messenger went away. On
Lieh-dze's going into the house, his wife looked to him and beat
her breast, saying, 'I have heard that the wife and children of
a possessor of the Tâo all enjoy plenty and ease, but now we
look starved. The ruler has seen his error, and sent you a
present of food, but you would not receive it;--is it appointed
(for us to suffer thus)?' Dze Lieh-dze laughed and said to her,
'The ruler does not himself know me. Because of what some one
said to him, he sent me the grain; but if another speak
(differently) of me to him, he may look on me as a criminal.
This was why I did not receive the grain.'
In the end it did come about, that the people, on an occasion of
trouble and disorder, put Dze-yang to death.
5
When king Kâo of Khû lost his kingdom, the sheep-butcher Yüeh
followed him in his flight. When the king (recovered) his
kingdom and returned to it, and was going to reward those who
had followed him, on coming to the sheep-butcher Yüeh, that
personage said, 'When our Great King lost his kingdom, I lost my
sheep-killing. When his majesty got back his kingdom, I also got
back my sheep-killing. My income and rank have been recovered;
why speak further of rewarding me?' The king, (on hearing of
this reply), said, 'Force him (to take the reward);' but Yüeh
said, 'It was not through any crime of mine that the king lost
his kingdom, and therefore I did not dare to submit to the death
(which would have been mine if I had remained in the capital).
And it was not through any service of mine that he recovered his
kingdom, and therefore I do not dare to count myself worthy of
any reward from him.'
The king (now) asked that the butcher should be introduced to
him, but Yüeh said, 'According to the law of Khû, great reward
ought to be given to great service, and the recipient then be
introduced to the king; but now my wisdom was not sufficient to
preserve the kingdom, nor my courage sufficient to die at the
hands of the invaders. When the army of Wû entered, I was afraid
of the danger, and got out of the way of the thieves;--it was
not with a distinct purpose (of loyalty) that I followed the
king. And now he wishes, in disregard of the law, and violations
of the conditions of our social compact, to see me in
court;--this is not what I would like to be talked of through
the kingdom.' The king said to Dze-khî, the Minister of War,
'The position of the sheep-butcher Yüeh is low and mean, but his
setting forth of what is right is very high; do you ask him for
me to accept the place of one of my three most distinguished
nobles.' (This being communicated to Yüeh), he said, 'I know
that the place of such a distinguished noble is nobler than a
sheep-butcher's stall, and that the salary of 10,000 kung is
more than its profits. But how should 1, through my greed of
rank and emolument, bring on our ruler the name of an unlawful
dispensation of his gifts? I dare not respond to your wishes,
but desire to return to my stall as the sheep-butcher.'
Accordingly he did not accept (the proffered reward).
6
Yüan Hsien was living in Lû. His house, whose walls were only a
few paces round, looked as if it were thatched with a crop of
growing grass; its door of brushwood was incomplete, with
branches of a mulberry tree for its side-posts; the window of
each of its two apartments was formed by an earthenware jar (in
the wall), which was stuffed with some coarse serge. It leaked
above, and was damp on the ground beneath; but there he sat
composedly, playing on his guitar. Dze-kung, in an inner robe of
purple and an outer one of pure white, riding in a carriage
drawn by two large horses, the hood of which was too high to get
into the lane (leading to the house), went to see him. Yüan
Hsien, in a cap made of bark, and slippers without heels, and
with a stalk of hellebore for a staff, met him at the door.
'Alas! Master,' said Dze-kung, 'that you should be in such
distress!' Yüan Hsien answered him, 'I have heard that to have
no money is to be poor, and that not to be able to carry one's
learning into practice is to be distressed. I am poor but not in
distress.' Dze-kung shrank back, and looked ashamed, on which
the other laughed and said, 'To act with a view to the world's
(praise); to pretend to be public-spirited and yet be a
partisan; to learn in order to please men; to teach for the sake
of one's own gain; to conceal one's wickedness under the garb of
benevolence and righteousness; and to be fond of the show of
chariots and horses:--these are things which Hsien cannot bear
to do.'
Zäng-dze was residing in Wei. He wore a robe quilted with hemp,
and had no outer garment; his countenance looked rough and
emaciated; his hands and feet were horny and callous; he would
be three days without lighting a fire; in ten years he did not
have a new suit; if he put his cap on straight, the strings
would break; if he drew tight the overlap of his robe, his elbow
would be seen; in putting on his shoes, the heels would burst
them. Yet dragging his shoes along, he sane, the 'Sacrificial
Odes of Shang' with a voice that filled heaven and earth as if
it came from a bell or a sounding stone. The Son of Heaven could
not get him to be a minister; no feudal prince could get him for
his friend. So it is that he who is nourishing his mind's aim
forgets his body, and he who is nourishing his body discards all
thoughts of gain, and he who is carrying out the Tâo forgets his
own mind.
Confucius said to Yen Hui, 'Come here, Hui. Your family is poor,
and your position is low; why should you not take office?' Hui
replied, 'I have no wish to be in office. Outside the suburban
district I possess fields to the extent of fifty acres, which
are sufficient to supply me with congee; and inside it I have
ten acres, which are sufficient to supply me with silk and flax.
I find my pleasure in playing on my lute, and your doctrines,
Master, which I study, are sufficient for my enjoyment; I do not
wish to take office.' Confucius looked sad, changed countenance,
and said, "How good is the mind of Hui! I have heard that he who
is contented will not entangle himself with the pursuit of gain,
that he who is conscious of having gained (the truth) in himself
is not afraid of losing other things, and that he who cultivates
the path of inward rectification is not ashamed though he may
have no official position. I have long been preaching this; but
to-day I see it realised in Hui:--this is what I have gained.'
7
Prince Mâu of Kung-shan spoke to Kan-dze, saying, 'My body has
its place by the streams and near the sea, but my mind dwells at
the court of Wei;--what have you to say to me in the
circumstances?' Kan-dze replied, 'Set the proper value on your
life. When one sets the proper value on his life, gain seems to
him unimportant.' The prince rejoined, 'I know that, but I am
not able to overcome (my Wishes).' The reply was, 'If you cannot
master yourself (in the matter), follow (your inclinations so
that) your spirit may not be dissatisfied. When you cannot
master yourself, and try to force yourself where your spirit
does not follow, this is what is called doing yourself a double
injury; and those who so injure themselves are not among the
long-lived.'
Mâu of Wei was the son of a lord of ten thousand chariots. For
him to live in retirement among crags and caves was more
difficult than for a scholar who had not worn the dress of
office. Although he had not attained to the Tâo, he maybe said
to have had some idea of it.
8
When Confucius was reduced to extreme distress between Khän and
Zhâi, for seven days he had no cooked meat to eat, but only some
soup of coarse vegetables without any rice in it. His
countenance wore the appearance of great exhaustion, and yet he
kept playing on his lute and singing inside the house. Yen Hui
(was outside), selecting the vegetables, while Dze-la and
Dze-kung were talking together, and said to him, 'The Master has
twice been driven from Lû; he had to flee from Wei; the tree
(beneath which he rested) was cut down in Sung; he was reduced
to extreme distress in Shang and Kâu; he is held in a state of
siege here between Khän and Zhâi; any one who kills him will be
held guiltless; there is no prohibition against making him a
prisoner. And yet he keeps playing and singing, thrumming his
lute without ceasing. Can a superior man be without the feeling
of shame to such an extent as this?' Yen Hui gave them no reply,
but went in and told (their words) to Confucius, who pushed
aside his lute, and said, 'Yû and Zhze are small men. Call them
here, and I will explain the thing to them.'
When they came in, Dze-lû said, 'Your present condition may be
called one of extreme distress.' Confucius replied, 'What words
are these! When the Superior man has free course with his
principles, that is what we call his success; when such course
is denied, that is what we call his failure. Now I hold in my
embrace the principles of benevolence and righteousness, and
with them meet the evils of a disordered age;--where is the
proof of my being in extreme distress? Therefore looking inwards
and examining myself, I have no difficulties about my
principles; though I encounter such difficulties (as the
present), I do not lose my virtue. It is when winter's cold is
come, and the hoar-frost and snow are falling, that we know the
vegetative power of the pine and cypress. This strait between
Khän and Zhâi is fortunate for me.' He then took back his lute
so that it emitted a twanging sound, and began to play and sing.
(At the same time) Dze-lû, hurriedly, seized a shield, and began
to dance, while Dze-kung said, 'I did not know (before) the
height of heaven nor the depth of the earth.'
The ancients who had got the Tâo were happy when reduced to
extremity, and happy when having free course. Their happiness
was independent of both these conditions. The Tâo and its
characteristics!--let them have these and distress and success
come to them as cold and heat, as wind and rain in the natural
order of things. Thus it was that Hsü Yû found pleasure on the
north of the river Ying, and that the earl of Kung enjoyed
himself on the top of mount (Kung).
9
Shun proposed to resign the throne to his friend, the Northerner
Wû-kâi, who said, 'A strange man you are, O sovereign! You
(first) lived among the channeled fields, and then your place
was in the palace of Yâo. And not only so:--you now further wish
to extend to me the stain of your disgraceful doings. I am
ashamed to see you. And on this he threw himself into the abyss
of Khing-läng.
When Thang was about to attack Kieh, he took counsel with Pien
Sui, who said, 'It is no business of mine.' Thang then said, 'To
whom should I apply?' And the other said, 'I do not know.' Thang
then took counsel with Wû Kwang, who gave the same answer as
Pien Sui; and when asked to whom he should apply, said in the
same way, 'I do not know.' 'Suppose,' Thang then said, 'I apply
to Î Yin, what do you say about him?' The reply was, 'He has a
wonderful power in doing what is disgraceful, and I know nothing
more about him!'
Thang thereupon took counsel with Î Yin, attacked Kieh, and
overcame him, after which he proposed to resign the throne to
Pien Sui, who declined it, saying, 'When you were about to
attack Kieh, and sought counsel from me, you must have supposed
me to be prepared to be a robber. Now that you have conquered
Kieh, and propose to resign the throne to me, you must consider
me to be greedy. I have been born in an age of disorder, and a
man without principle twice comes, and tries to extend to me the
stain of his disgraceful proceedings!--I cannot bear to hear the
repetition of his proposals.' With this he threw himself into
the Kâu water and died.
Thang further made proffer of the throne to Wû Kwang, saying,
'The wise man has planned it; the martial man has carried it
through; and the benevolent man should occupy it:--this was the
method of antiquity. Why should you, Sir, not take the
position?' Wû Kwang refused the proffer, saying, 'To depose the
sovereign is contrary to right; to kill the people is contrary
to benevolence. When another has encountered the risks, if I
should accept the gain of his adventure, I should violate my
disinterestedness. I have heard it said, "If it be not right for
him to do so, one should not accept the emolument; in an age of
unprincipled (government), one should not put foot on the soil
(of the) country:"--how much less should I accept this position
of honour! I cannot bear to see you any longer.' And with this
he took a stone oil his back, and drowned himself in the Lü
water.
10
Formerly, at the rise of the Kâu dynasty, there were two
brothers who lived in Kû-kû, and were named Po-î and Shû-khî.
They spoke together and said, 'We have heard that in the west
there is one who seems to rule according to the Right Way; let
us go and see.' (Accordingly) they came to the south of (mount)
Khî; and when king Wû heard of them, he sent (his brother) Shû
Tan to see them, and make a covenant with them, engaging that
their wealth should be second (only to that of the king), and
that their offices should be of the first rank, and instructing
him to bury the covenant with the blood of the victim after they
had smeared the corners of their mouths with it. The brothers
looked at each other and laughed, saying, 'Ah! How strange! This
is not what we call the Right Way. Formerly, when Shän Näng had
the kingdom, he offered his sacrifices at the proper seasons and
with the utmost reverence, but without praying for any blessing.
Towards men he was leal-hearted and sincere, doing his utmost in
governing them, but without seeking anything for himself When it
was his pleasure to use administrative measures, he did so; and
a sterner rule when he thought that would be better. He did not
by the ruin of others establish his own power; he did not exalt
himself by bringing others low; he did not, when the time was
opportune, seek his own profit. But now Kâu, seeing the disorder
of Yin, has suddenly taken the government into its hands; with
the high it has taken counsel, and with those below employed
bribes; it relies on its troops to maintain the terror of its
might; it makes covenants over victims to prove its good faith;
it vaunts its proceedings to please the masses; it kills and
attacks for the sake of gain:--this is simply overthrowing
disorder and changing it for tyranny. We have heard that the
officers of old, in an age of good government, did not shrink
from their duties, and in an age of disorder did not recklessly
seek to remain in office. Now the kingdom is in a state of
darkness; the virtue of Kâu is decayed. Than to join with it and
lay our persons in the dust, it is better for us to abandon it,
and maintain the purity of our conduct.'
The two princes then went north to the hill of Shâu-yang, where
they died of starvation. If men such as they, in the matter of
riches and honours, can manage to avoid them, (let them do so);
but they must not depend on their lofty virtue to pursue any
perverse course, only gratifying their own tendencies, and not
doing service in their time:--this was the style of these two
princes. |
