1
Nan-kwo Sze-khî was seated, leaning forward on his stool. He was
looking up to heaven and breathed gently, seeming to be in a
trance, and to have lost all consciousness of any companion.
(His disciple), Yen Khäng Dze-yû, who was in attendance and
standing before him, said, 'What is this? Can the body be made
to become thus like a withered tree, and the mind to become like
slaked lime? His appearance as he leans forward on the stool
to-day is such as I never saw him have before in the same
position.' Dze-khî said, 'Yen, you do well to ask such a
question, I had just now lost myself; but how should you
understand it? You may have heard the notes of Man, but have not
heard those of Earth; you may have heard the notes of Earth, but
have not heard those of Heaven.'
Dze-yû said, 'I venture to ask from you a description of all
these.' The reply was, 'When the breath of the Great Mass (of
nature) comes strongly, it is called Wind. Sometimes it does not
come so; but when it does, then from a myriad apertures there
issues its excited noise;--have you not heard it in a prolonged
gale? Take the projecting bluff of a mountain forest;--in the
great trees, a hundred spans round, the apertures and cavities
are like the nostrils, or the mouth, or the ears; now square,
now round like a cup or a mortar; here like a wet footprint, and
there like a large puddle. (The sounds issuing from them are
like) those of fretted water, of the arrowy whizz, of the stern
command, of the inhaling of the breath, of the shout, of the
gruff note, of the deep wail, of the sad and piping note. The
first notes are slight, and those that follow deeper, but in
harmony with them. Gentle winds produce a small response;
violent winds a great one. When the fierce gusts have passed
away, all the apertures are empty (and still);--have you not
seen this in the bending and quivering of the branches and
leaves?'
Dze-yû said, 'The notes of Earth then are simply those which
come from its myriad apertures; and the notes of Man may just be
compared to those which (are brought from the tubes of)
bamboo;--allow me to ask about the notes of Heaven.' Dze-khî
replied, 'When (the wind) blows, (the sounds from) the myriad
apertures are different, and (its cessation) makes them stop of
themselves. Both of these things arise from (the wind and the
apertures) themselves:--should there be any other agency that
excites them?'
2
Great knowledge is wide and comprehensive; small knowledge is
partial and restricted. Great speech is exact and complete;
small speech is (merely) so much talk. When we sleep, the soul
communicates with (what is external to us); when we awake, the
body is set free. Our intercourse with others then leads to
various activity, and daily there is the striving of mind with
mind. There are hesitancies; deep difficulties; reservations;
small apprehensions causing restless distress, and great
apprehensions producing endless fears. Where their utterances
are like arrows from a bow, we have those who feel it their
charge to pronounce what is right and what is wrong.; where they
are given out like the conditions of a covenant, we have those
who maintain their views, determined to overcome. (The weakness
of their arguments), like the decay (of things) in autumn and
winter, shows the failing (of the minds of some) from day to
day; or it is like their water which, once voided, cannot be
gathered up again. Then their ideas seem as if fast bound with
cords, showing that the mind is become like an old and dry moat,
and that it is nigh to death, and cannot be restored to vigour
and brightness.
Joy and anger, sadness and pleasure, anticipation and regret,
fickleness and fixedness, vehemence and indolence, eagerness and
tardiness;--(all these moods), like music from an empty tube, or
mushrooms from the warm moisture, day and night succeed to one
another and come before us, and we do not know whence they
sprout. Let us stop! Let us stop! Can we expect to find out
suddenly how they are produced?
If there were not (the views of) another, I should not have
mine; if there were not I (with my views), his would be uncalled
for:--this is nearly a true, statement of the case, but we do
not know what it is that makes it be so. It might seem as if
there would be a true Governor concerned in it, but we do not
find any trace (of his presence and acting). That such an One
could act so I believe; but we do not see His form. He has
affections, but He has no form.
Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and
its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do I love
the most? Do you love them all equally? or do you love some more
than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part
of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are
they not incompetent to rule one another? or do they take it in
turns to be now ruler and now servants? There must be a true
Ruler (among them) whether by searching you can find out His
character or not, there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as
the truth of His operation is concerned. When once we have
received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to
perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with
things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the
end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be
stopped;--is it not sad? To be constantly toiling all one's
lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one's labour, and to be
weary and worn out with his labour, without knowing where he is
going to:-is it not a deplorable case? Men may say, 'But it is
not death;' yet of what advantage is this? When the body is
decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it:--must not
the case be pronounced very deplorable? Is the life of man
indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it
appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?
3
If we were to follow the judgments of the predetermined mind,
who would be left alone and without a teacher? Not only would it
be so with those who know the sequences (of knowledge and
feeling) and make their own selection among them, but it would
be so as well with the stupid and unthinking. For one who has
not this determined mind, to have his affirmations and negations
is like the case described in the saying, 'He went to Yüeh
to-day, and arrived at it yesterday.' It would be making what
was not a fact to be a fact. But even the spirit-like Yü could
not have known how to do this, and how should one like me be
able to do it?
But speech is not like the blowing (of the wind) the speaker has
(a meaning in) his words. If, however, what he says, be
indeterminate (as from a mind not made up), does he then really
speak or not? He thinks that his words are different from the
chirpings of fledgelings; but is there any distinction between
them or not? But how can the Tâo be so obscured, that there
should be 'a True' and 'a False' in it? How can speech be so
obscured that there should be 'the Right' and 'the Wrong' about
them? Where shall the Tâo go to that it will not be found? Where
shall speech be found that it will be inappropriate? Tâo becomes
obscured through the small comprehension (of the mind), and
speech comes to be obscure through the vain-gloriousness (of the
speaker). So it is that we have the contentions between the
Literati and the Mohists, the one side affirming what the other
denies, and vice versâ. If we would decide on their several
affirmations and denials, no plan is like bringing the (proper)
light (of the mind) to bear on them.
All subjects may be looked at from (two points of view),--from
that and from this. If I look at a thing from another's point of
view, I do not see it; only as I know it myself, do I know it.
Hence it is said, 'That view comes from this; and this view is a
consequence of that:'--which is the theory that that view and
this--(the opposite views)-produce each the other. Although it
be so, there is affirmed now life and now death; now death and
now life; now the admissibility of a thing and now its
inadmissibility; now its inadmissibility and now its
admissibility. (The disputants) now affirm and now deny; now
deny and now affirm. Therefore the sagely man does not pursue
this method, but views things in the light of (his) Heaven (-ly
nature), and hence forms his judgment of what is right.
This view is the same as that, and that view is the same as
this. But that view involves both a right and a wrong; and this
view involves also a right and a wrong:--are there indeed, or
are there not the two views, that and this? They have not found
their point of correspondency which is called the pivot of the
Tâo. As soon as one finds this pivot, he stands in the centre of
the ring (of thought), where he can respond without end to the
changing views;--without end to those affirming, and without end
to those denying. Therefore I said, 'There is nothing like the
proper light (of the mind).'
4
By means of a finger (of my own) to illustrate that the finger
(of another) is not a finger is not so good a plan as to
illustrate that it is not so by means of what is (acknowledged
to be) not a finger; and by means of (what I call) a horse to
illustrate that (what another calls) a horse is not so, is not
so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not a horse, by means
of what is (acknowledged to be) not a horse. (All things in)
heaven and earth may be (dealt with as) a finger; (each of)
their myriads may be (dealt with as) a horse. Does a thing seem
so to me? (I say that) it is so. Does it seem not so to me? (I
say that) it is not so. A path is formed by (constant) treading
on the ground. A thing is called by its name through the
(constant) application of the name to it. How is it so? It is so
because it is so. How is it not so? It is not so, because it is
not so. Everything has its inherent character and its proper
capability. There is nothing which has not these. Therefore,
this being so, if we take a stalk of grain and a (large) pillar,
a loathsome (leper) and (a beauty like) Hsî Shih, things large
and things insecure, things crafty and things strange;--they may
in the light of the Tâo all be reduced to the same category (of
opinion about them).
It was separation that led to completion; from completion ensued
dissolution. But all things, without regard to their completion
and dissolution, may again be comprehended in their unity;--it
is only the far reaching in thought who know how to comprehend
them in this unity. This being so, let us give up our devotion
to our own views, and occupy ourselves with the ordinary views.
These ordinary views are grounded on the use of things. (The
study of that) use leads to the comprehensive judgment, and that
judgment secures the success (of the inquiry). That success
gained, we are near (to the object of our search), and there we
stop. When we stop, and yet we do not know how it is so, we have
what is called the Tâo. When we toil our spirits and
intelligence, obstinately
determined (to establish our own view), and do not know the
agreement (which underlies it and the views of others), we have
what is called 'In the morning three.' What is meant by that 'In
the morning three?' A keeper of monkeys, in giving them out
their acorns, (once) said, 'In the morning I will give you three
(measures) and in the evening four.' This made them all angry,
and he said, 'Very well. In the morning I will give you four and
in the evening three.' His two proposals were substantially the
same, but the result of the one was to make the creatures angry,
and of the other to make them pleased:--an illustration of the
point I am insisting on. Therefore the sagely man brings
together a dispute in its affirmations and denials, and rests in
the equal fashioning of Heaven. Both sides of the question are
admissible.
5
Among the men of old their knowledge reached the extreme point.
What was that extreme point? Some held that at first there was
not anything. This is the extreme point, the utmost point to
which nothing can be added. A second class held that there was
something, but without any responsive recognition of it (on the
part of men).
third class held that there was such recognition, but there had
not begun to be any expression of different opinions about it.
It was through the definite expression of different opinions
about it that there ensued injury to (the doctrine of) the Tâo.
It was this injury to the (doctrine of the) Tâo which led to the
formation of (partial) preferences. Was it indeed after such
preferences were formed that the injury came? or did the injury
precede the rise of such preferences? If the injury arose after
their formation, Kâo's method of playing on the lute was
natural. If the injury arose before their formation, there would
have been no such playing on the lute as Kâo's.
Kâo Wän's playing on the lute, Shih Kwang's indicating time with
his staff, and Hui-dze's (giving his views), while leaning
against a dryandra tree (were all extraordinary). The knowledge
of the three men (in their several arts) was nearly perfect, and
therefore they practised them to the end of their lives. They
loved them because they were different from those of others.
They loved them and wished to make them known to others. But as
they could not be made clear, though they tried to make them so,
they ended with the obscure (discussions) about 'the hard' and
'the White.' And their sons, moreover, with all the threads of
their fathers' compositions, yet to the end of their lives
accomplished nothing. If they, proceeding in this way, could be
said to have succeeded, then am I also successful; if they
cannot be pronounced successful, neither I nor any other can
succeed.
Therefore the scintillations of light from the midst of
confusion and perplexity are indeed valued by the sagely man;
but not to use one's own views and to take his position on the
ordinary views is what is called using the (proper) light.
6
But here now are some other sayings :--I do not know whether
they are of the same character as those which I have already
given, or of a different character. Whether they be of the same
character or not when looked at along with them, they have a
character of their own, which cannot be distinguished from the
others. But though this be the case, let me try to explain
myself.
There was a beginning. There was a beginning before that
beginning. There was a beginning previous to that beginning
before there was the beginning.
There was existence; there had been no existence. There was no
existence before the beginning of that no existence. There was
no existence previous to the no existence before there was the
beginning of the no existence. If suddenly there was
nonexistence, we do not know whether it was really anything
existing, or really not existing. Now I have said what I have
said, but I do not know whether what I have said be really
anything to the point or not.
Under heaven there is nothing greater than the tip of an autumn
down, and the Thâi mountain is small. There is no one more
long-lived than a child which dies prematurely, and Phäng Zû did
not live out his time. Heaven, Earth, and I were produced
together, and all things and I are one. Since they are one, can
there be speech about them? But since they are spoken of as one,
must there not be room for speech? One and Speech are two; two
and one are three. Going on from this (in our enumeration), the
most skilful reckoner cannot reach (the end of the necessary
numbers), and how much less can ordinary people do so! Therefore
from non-existence we proceed to existence till we arrive at
three; proceeding from existence to existence, to how many
should we reach? Let us abjure such procedure, and simply rest
here.
7
The Tâo at first met with no responsive recognition. Speech at
first had no constant forms of expression. Because of this there
came the demarcations (of different views). Let me describe
those demarcations:-they are the Left and the Right; the
Relations and their Obligations; Classifications and their
Distinctions; Emulations and Contentions. These are what are
called 'the Eight Qualities.' Outside the limits of the world of
men, the sage occupies his thoughts, but does not discuss about
anything; inside those limits he occupies his thoughts, but does
not pass any judgments. In the Khun Khiû, which embraces the
history of the former kings, the sage indicates his judgments,
but does not argue (in vindication of them). Thus it is that he
separates his characters from one another without appearing to
do so, and argues without the form of argument. How does he do
so? The sage cherishes his views in his own breast, while men
generally state theirs argumentatively, to show them to others.
Hence we have the saying, 'Disputation is a proof of not seeing
clearly.'
The Great Tâo does not admit of being praised. The Great
Argument does not require words. Great Benevolence is not
(officiously) benevolent. Great Disinterestedness does not vaunt
its humility. Great Courage is not seen in stubborn bravery.
The Tâo that is displayed is not the Tâo. Words that are
argumentative do not reach the point. Benevolence that is
constantly exercised does not accomplish its object.
Disinterestedness that vaunts its purity is not genuine. Courage
that is most stubborn is ineffectual. These five seem to be
round (and complete), but they tend to become square (and
immovable). Therefore the knowledge that stops at what it does
not know is the greatest. Who knows the argument that needs no
words, and the Way that is not to be trodden?
He who is able to know this has what is called 'The Heavenly
Treasure-house.' He may pour into it without its being filled;
he may pour from it without its being exhausted; and all the
while he does not know whence (the supply) comes. This is what
is called 'The Store of Light.'
Therefore of old Yâo asked Shun, saying, 'I wish to smite (the
rulers of) Zung, Kwei, and Hsü-âo. Even when standing in my
court, I cannot get them out of my mind. How is it so?' Shun
replied, 'Those three rulers live (in their little states) as if
they were among the mugwort and other brushwood;--how is it that
you cannot get them out of your mind? Formerly, ten suns came
out together, and all things were illuminated by them;--how much
should (your) virtue exceed (all) suns!'
8
Nieh Khüeh asked Wang Î, saying, 'Do you know, Sir, what all
creatures agree in approving and affirming?' 'How should I know
it?' was the reply. 'Do you know what it is that you do not
know?' asked the other again, and he got the same reply. He
asked a third time,--'Then are all creatures thus without
knowledge?' and Wang Î answered as before, (adding however),
'Notwithstanding, I will try and explain my meaning. How do you
know that when I say "I know it," I really (am showing that) I
do not know it, and that when I say "I do not know it," I really
am showing that I do know it.' And let me ask you some
questions:--'If a man sleep in a damp place, he will have a pain
in his loins, and half his body will be as if it were dead; but
will it be so with an eel? If he be living in a tree, he will be
frightened and all in a tremble; but will it be so with a
monkey? And does any one of the three know his right place? Men
eat animals that have been fed on grain and grass; deer feed on
the thickset grass; centipedes enjoy small snakes; owls and
crows delight in mice; but does any one of the four know the
right taste? The dog-headed monkey finds its mate in the female
gibbon; the elk and the axis deer cohabit; and the eel enjoys
itself with other fishes. Mâo Zhiang and Lî Kî were accounted by
men to be most beautiful, but when fishes saw them, they dived
deep in the water from them; when birds, they flew from them
aloft; and when deer saw them, they separated and fled away. But
did any of these four know which in the world is the right
female attraction? As I look at the matter, the first principles
of benevolence and righteousness and the paths of approval and
disapproval are inextricably mixed and confused together:--how
is it possible that I should know how to discriminate among
them?'
Nieh Khüeh said (further), 'Since you, Sir, do not know what is
advantageous and what is hurtful, is the Perfect man also in the
same way without the knowledge of them?' Wang i replied, 'The
Perfect man is spirit-like. Great lakes might be boiling about
him, and he would not feel their heat; the Ho and the Han might
be frozen up, and he would not feel the cold; the hurrying
thunderbolts might split the mountains, and the wind shake the
ocean, without being able to make him afraid. Being such, he
mounts on the clouds of the air, rides on the sun and moon, and
rambles at ease beyond the four seas. Neither death nor life
makes any change in him, and how much less should the
considerations of advantage and injury do so!'
9
Khü Zhiâo-dze asked Khang-wû Dze, saying, 'I heard the Master
(speaking of such language as the following):--"The sagely man
does not occupy himself with worldly affairs. He does not put
himself in the way of what is profitable, nor try to avoid what
is hurtful; he has no pleasure in seeking (for anything from any
one); he does not care to be found in (any established) Way; he
speaks without speaking; he does not speak when he speaks; thus
finding his enjoyment outside the dust and dirt (of the world)."
The Master considered all this to be a shoreless flow of mere
words, and I consider it to describe the course of the
Mysterious Way.--What do you, Sir, think of it?' Khang-wû dze
replied, 'The hearing of such words would have perplexed even
Hwang-Tî, and how should Khiû be competent to understand them?
And you, moreover, are too hasty in forming your estimate (of
their meaning). You see the egg, and (immediately) look out for
the cock (that is to be hatched from it); you see the bow, and
(immediately) look out for the dove (that is to be brought down
by it) being roasted. I will try to explain the thing to you in
a rough way; do you in the same way listen to me.
'How could any one stand by the side of the sun and moon, and
hold under his arm all space and all time? (Such language only
means that the sagely man) keeps his mouth shut, and puts aside
questions that are uncertain and dark; making his inferior
capacities unite with him in honouring (the One Lord). Men in
general bustle about and toil; the sagely man seems stupid and
to know nothing. He blends ten thousand years together in the
one (conception of time); the myriad things all pursue their
spontaneous course, and they are all before him as doing so.
'How do I know that the love of life is not a delusion? and that
the dislike of death is not like a young person's losing his
way, and not knowing that he is (really) going home? Lî Kî was a
daughter of the border Warden of Ai. When (the ruler of) the
state of Zin first got possession of her, she wept till the
tears wetted all the front of her dress. But when she came to
the place of the king, shared with him his luxurious couch, and
ate his grain-and-grass-fed meat, then she regretted that she
had wept. How do I know that the dead do not repent of their
former craving for life?
'Those who dream of (the pleasures of) drinking may in the
morning wail and weep; those who dream of wailing and weeping
may in the morning be going out to hunt. When they were dreaming
they did not know it was a dream; in their dream they may even
have tried to interpret it; but when they awoke they knew that
it was a dream. And there is the great awaking, after which we
shall know that this life was a great dream. All the while, the
stupid think they are awake, and with nice discrimination insist
on their knowledge; now playing the part of rulers, and now of
grooms. Bigoted was that Khiû! He and you are both dreaming. I
who say that you are dreaming am dreaming myself. These words
seem very strange; but if after ten thousand ages we once meet
with a great sage who knows how to explain them, it will be as
if we met him (unexpectedly) some morning or evening.
10
'Since you made me enter into this discussion with you, if you
have got the better of me and not I of you, are you indeed
right, and I indeed wrong? If I have got the better of you and
not you of me, am I indeed right and you indeed wrong? Is the
one of us right and the other wrong? are we both right or both
wrong? Since we cannot come to a mutual and common
understanding, men will certainly continue in darkness on the
subject.
'Whom shall I employ to adjudicate in the matter? If I employ
one who agrees with you, how can he, agreeing with you, do so
correctly? And the same may be said, if I employ one who agrees
with me. It will be the same if I employ one who differs from us
both or one who agrees with us both. In this way I and you and
those others would all not be able to come to a mutual
understanding; and shall we then wait for that (great sage)? (We
need not do so.) To wait on others to learn how conflicting
opinions are changed is simply like not so waiting at all. The
harmonising of them is to be found in the invisible operation of
Heaven, and by following this on into the unlimited past. It is
by this method that we can complete our years (without our minds
being disturbed).
'What is meant by harmonising (conflicting opinions) in the
invisible operation of Heaven? There is the affirmation and the
denial of it; and there is the assertion of an opinion and the
rejection of it. If the affirmation be according to the reality
of the fact, it is certainly different from the denial of
it:--there can be no dispute about that. If the assertion of an
opinion be correct, it is certainly different from its
rejection:--neither can there be any dispute about that. Let us
forget the lapse of time; let us forget the conflict of
opinions. Let us make our appeal to the Infinite, and take up
our position there.'
11
The Penumbra asked the Shadow, saying, 'Formerly you were
walking on, and now you have stopped; formerly you were sitting,
and now you have risen up:--how is it that you are so without
stability?' The Shadow replied, 'I wait for the movements of
something else to do what I do, and that something else on which
I wait waits further on another to do as it does. My
waiting,--is it for the scales of a snake, or the wings of a
cicada? How should I know why I do one thing, or do not do
another?
'Formerly, I, Kwang Kâu, dreamt that I was a butterfly, a
butterfly flying about, feeling that it was enjoying itself I
did not know that it was Kâu. Suddenly I awoke, and was myself
again, the veritable Kâu. I did not know whether it had formerly
been Kâu dreaming that he was a butterfly, or it was now a
butterfly dreaming that it was Kâu. But between Kâu and a
butterfly there must be a difference. This is a case of what is
called the Transformation of Things.' |