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Confucius,
rambling in the forest of Dze-wei, stopped and sat down by the
Apricot altar. The disciples began to read their books, while he
proceeded to play on his lute, singing as he did so. He had not
half finished his ditty when an old fisherman stepped down from
his boat, and came towards them. His beard and eyebrows were
turning white; his hair was all uncombed; and his sleeves hung
idly down. He walked thus up from the bank, till he got to the
dry ground, when he stopped, and, with his left hand holding one
of his knees, and the right hand at his chin, listened. When the
ditty was finished, he beckoned to Dze-kung and Dze-lû, who both
responded and went to him. Pointing to Confucius, he said, 'Who
is he?' Dze-lû replied, 'He is the Superior Man of Lû.' 'And of
what family is he?' 'He is of the Khung family.' 'And what is
the occupation of this Mr. Khung?' To this question, Dze-la gave
no reply, but Dze-kung replied, 'This scion of the Khung family
devotes himself in his own nature to leal-heartedness and
sincerity; in his conduct he manifests benevolence and
righteousness; he cultivates the ornaments of ceremonies and
music; he pays special attention to the relationships of
society; above, he would promote loyalty to the hereditary
lords; below, he seeks the transformation of all classes of the
people; his object being to benefit the kingdom:--this is what
Mr. Khung devotes himself to.'
The stranger further asked, 'Is he a ruler possessed of
territory?' 'No,' was Sze-kung's reply. 'Is he the assistant of
any prince or king?' 'No;' and on this the other began to laugh
and to retrace his steps, saying as he went, 'Yes, benevolence
is benevolence! But I am afraid he will not escape (the evils
incident to humanity). By embittering his mind and toiling his
body, he is imperilling his true (nature)! Alas! how far removed
is he from the proper way (of life)!'
Dze-kung returned, and reported (what the man had said) to
Confucius, who pushed his lute aside, and arose, saying, 'Is he
not a sage?' and down the slope he went in search of him. When
he reached the edge of the lake, there was the fisherman with
his pole, dragging the boat towards him. Turning round and
seeing Confucius, he came back towards him and stood up.
Confucius then drew back, bowed to him twice, and went forward.
'What do you want with me, Sir?' asked the stranger. The reply
was, 'A little while ago, my Master, you broke off the thread of
your remarks and went away. Inferior to you, I do not know what
you wished to say, and have ventured here to wait for your
instructions, fortunate if I may but hear the sound of your
words to complete the assistance that you can give me!' 'Ah!'
responded the stranger, 'how great is your love of learning!'
Confucius bowed twice, and then rose up, and said, 'Since I was
young, I have cultivated learning till I am now sixty-nine years
old; but I have not had an opportunity of hearing the perfect
teaching;--dare I but listen to you with a humble and
unprejudiced mind?' The stranger replied, 'Like seeks to like,
and (birds) of the same note respond to one another;--this is a
rule of Heaven. Allow me to explain what I am in possession of,
and to pass over (from its standpoint) to the things which
occupy you. What you occupy yourself with are the affairs of
men. When the sovereign, the feudal lords, the great officers,
and the common people, these four classes, do what is correct
(in their several positions), we have the beauty of good order;
and when they leave their proper duties, there ensues the
greatest disorder. When the officials attend to their duties,
and the common people are anxiously concerned about their
business, there is no encroachment on one another's rights.
'Fields running to waste; leaking rooms; insufficiency of food
and clothing; taxes unprovided for; want of harmony among wives
and concubines; and want of order between old and young;--these
are the troubles of the common people.
'Incompetency for their charges; inattention to their official
business; want of probity in conduct; carelessness and idleness
in subordinates; failure of merit and excellence; and
uncertainty of rank and emolument:--these are the troubles of
great officers.
'No loyal ministers at their courts; the clans in their states
rebellious; want of skill in their mechanics; articles of
tribute of bad quality; late appearances at court in spring and
autumn; and the dissatisfaction of the sovereign:--these are the
troubles of the feudal lords.
'Want of harmony between the Yin and Yang; unseasonableness of
cold and heat, affecting all things injuriously; oppression and
disorder among the feudal princes, their presuming to plunder
and attack one another, to the injury of the people ceremonies
and music ill-regulated; the resources for expenditure exhausted
or deficient; the social relationships uncared for; and the
people abandoned to licentious disorder:--these are the troubles
of the Son of Heaven and his ministers.
'Now, Sir, you have not the high rank of a ruler, a feudal lord,
or a minister of the royal court, nor are you in the inferior
position of a great minister, with his departments of business,
and yet you take it on you to regulate ceremonies and music, and
to give special attention to the relationships of society, with
a view to transform the various classes of the people:--is it
not an excessive multiplication of your business?
'And moreover men are liable to eight defects, and (the conduct
of) affairs to four evils; of which we must by all means take
account.
'To take the management of affairs which do not concern him is
called monopolising. To bring forward a subject which no one
regards is called loquacity. To lead men on by speeches made to
please them is called sycophancy. To praise men without regard
to right or wrong is called flattery. To be fond of speaking of
men's wickedness is called calumny. To part friends and separate
relatives is called mischievousness. To praise a man
deceitfully, or in the same way fix on him the character of
being bad, is called depravity. Without reference to their being
good or bad, to agree with men with double face, in order to
steal a knowledge of what they wish, is called being dangerous.
Those eight defects produce disorder among other men and injury
to one's self. A superior man will not make a friend of one who
has them, nor will an intelligent ruler make him his minister.
'To speak of what I called the four evils:--To be fond of
conducting great affairs, changing and altering what is of
long-standing, to obtain for one's self the reputation of
meritorious service, is called ambition; to claim all wisdom and
intrude into affairs, encroaching on the work of others, and
representing it as one's own, is called greediness; to see his
errors without changing them, and to go on more resolutely in
his own way when remonstrated with, is called obstinacy; when
another agrees with himself, to approve of him, and, however
good he may be, when he disagrees, to disapprove of him, is
called boastful conceit. These are the four evils. When one can
put away the eight defects, and allow no course to the four
evils, he begins to be capable of being taught.'
Confucius looked sorrowful and sighed. (Again) he bowed twice,
and then rose up and said, 'I was twice driven from Lû. I had to
flee from Wei; the tree under which I rested was cut down in
Sung; I was kept in a state of siege between Khän and Zhâi. I do
not know what errors I had committed that I came to be
misrepresented on these four occasions (and suffered as I did).'
The stranger looked grieved (at these words), changed
countenance, and said, 'Very difficult it is, Sir, to make you
understand. There was a man who was frightened at his shadow and
disliked to see his footsteps, so that he ran to escape from
them. But the more frequently he lifted his feet, the more
numerous his footprints were; and however fast he ran, his
shadow did not leave him. He thought he was going too slow, and
ran on with all his speed without stopping, till his strength
was exhausted and he died. He did not know that, if he had
stayed in a shady place, his shadow would have disappeared, and
that if he had remained still, he would have lost his
footprints:--his stupidity was excessive! And you, Sir, exercise
your judgment on the questions about benevolence and
righteousness; you investigate the points where agreement and
difference touch; you look at the changes from movement to rest
and from rest to movement; you have mastered the rules of
receiving and giving; you have defined the feelings of liking
and disliking; you have harmonised the limits of joy and
anger:--and yet you have hardly been able to escape (the
troubles of which you speak). If you earnestly cultivated your
own person, and carefully guarded your (proper) truth, simply
rendering to others what was due to them, then you would have
escaped such entanglements. But now, when you do not cultivate
your own person, and make the cultivation of others your object,
are you not occupying yourself with what is external?'
Confucius with an air of sadness said, 'Allow me to ask what it
is that you call my proper Truth.' The stranger replied, 'A
man's proper Truth is pure sincerity in its highest
degree;--without this pure sincerity one cannot move others.
Hence if one (only) forces himself to wail, however sadly he may
do so, it is not (real) sorrow; if he forces himself to be
angry, however he may seem to be severe, he excites no awe; if
he forces himself to show affection, however he may smile, he
awakens no harmonious reciprocation. True grief, without a
sound, is yet sorrowful; true anger, without any demonstration,
yet awakens awe; true affection, without a smile, yet produces a
harmonious reciprocation. Given this truth within, it exercises
a spiritual efficacy without, and this is why we count it so
valuable. In our relations with others, it appears according to
the requirements of each case:--in the service of parents, as
gentle, filial duty; in the service of rulers, as loyalty and
integrity; in festive drinking, as pleasant enjoyment; in the
performance of the mourning rites, as sadness and sorrow. In
loyalty and integrity, good service is the principal thing; in
festive drinking, the enjoyment; in the mourning rites, the
sorrow; in the service of parents, the giving them pleasure. The
beauty of the service rendered (to a ruler) does not require
that it always be performed in one way; the service of parents
so as to give them pleasure takes no account of how it is done;
the festive drinking which ministers enjoyment does not depend
on the appliances for it; the observance of the mourning rites
with the proper sorrow asks no questions about the rites
themselves. Rites are prescribed for the practice of the common
people; man's proper Truth is what he has received from Heaven,
operating spontaneously, and unchangeable. Therefore the sages
take their law from Heaven, and prize their (proper) Truth,
without submitting to the restrictions of custom. The stupid do
the reverse of this. They are unable to take their law from
Heaven, and are influenced by other men; they do not know how to
prize the proper Truth (of their nature), but are under the
dominion of ordinary things, and change according to the customs
(around them):always, consequently, incomplete. Alas for you,
Sir, that you were early steeped in the hypocrisies of men, and
have been so late in hearing about the Great Way!'
(Once more), Confucius bowed twice (to the fisherman), then rose
again, and said, 'That I have met you to-day is as if I had the
happiness of getting to heaven. If you, Master, are not ashamed,
but will let me be as your servant, and continue to teach me,
let me venture to ask where your dwelling is. I will then beg to
receive your instructions there, and finish my learning of the
Great Way.' The stranger replied, 'I have heard the saying, "If
it be one with whom you can walk together, go with him to the
subtlest mysteries of the Tâo. If it be one with whom you cannot
walk together and he do not know the Tâo, take care that you do
not associate with him, and you will yourself incur no
responsibility." Do your utmost, Sir. I must leave you, I must
leave you!' With this he shoved off his boat, and went away
among the green reeds.
Yen Yüan (now) returned to the carriage, where Dze-la handed to
him the strap; but Confucius did not look round, (continuing
where he was), till the wavelets, were stilled, and he did not
hear the sound of the pole, when at last he ventured to (return
and) take his seat. Dze-lû, by his side in the carriage, asked
him, saying, 'I have been your servant for a long time, but I
have never seen you, Master, treat another with the awe and
reverence which you have now shown. I have seen you in the
presence of a Lord of ten thousand chariots or a Ruler of a
thousand, and they have never received you in a different
audience-room, or treated you but with the courtesies due to an
equal, while you have still carried yourself with a reserved and
haughty air; but to-day this old fisherman has stood erect in
front of you with his pole in his hand, while you, bent from
your loins in the form of a sounding-stone, would bow twice
before you answered him;--was not your reverence of him
excessive? Your disciples will all think it strange in you,
Master. Why did the old fisherman receive such homage from you?'
Confucius leant forward on the cross-bar of the carriage, heaved
a sigh, and said, 'Difficult indeed is it to change you, O Yû!
You have been trained in propriety and righteousness for long,
and yet your servile and mean heart has not been taken from you.
Come nearer, that I may speak fully to you. If you meet one
older than yourself, and do not show him respect, you fail in
propriety. If you see a man of superior wisdom and goodness, and
do not honour him, you want the great characteristic of
humanity. If that (fisherman) did not possess it in the highest
degree, how could he make others submit to him? And if their
submission to him be not sincere, they do not attain to the
truth (of their nature), and inflict a lasting injury on their
persons. Alas! there is no greater calamity to man than the want
of this characteristic; and you, O Yû, you alone, would take
such want on yourself.
'Moreover, the Tâo is the course by Which all things should
proceed. For things to fail in this is death; to observe it, is
life. To oppose it in practice is ruin; to conform it, is
success. Therefore wherever the sagely man finds the Tâo, he
honours it. And that old fisherman to-day might be said to
possess it;--dared I presume not to show him reverence?' |
