Yen huei {20} went to take leave of Confucius. "Whither
are you bound?" asked the Master.
"I am going to the State of Wei," was the reply.
"And what do you propose to do there?" continued Confucius.
"I hear," answered Yen Huei, "that the Prince of Wei is of
mature age, but of an unmanageable disposition. He
behaves as if the people were of no account, and will not see his
own faults. He disregards human lives and the
people perish; and their corpses lie about like so much under
growth in a marsh. The people do not know where to
turn for help. And I have heard you say that if a state be well
governed, it may be passed over; but that if it be badly
governed, then we should visit it. At the door of physicians there
are many sick people. I would test my knowledge
in this sense, that perchance I may do some good at that state."
"Alas!" cried Confucius, "you will be only going to your doom.
For Tao must not bustle about. If it does it will
have divergent aims. From divergent aims come restlessness; from
restlessness comes worry, and from worry one
reaches the stage of being beyond hope. The Sages of old first
strengthened their own character before they tried to
strengthen that of others. Before you have strengthened your own
character, what leisure have you to attend to the
doings of wicked men? Besides, do you know into what virtue
evaporates by motion and where knowledge ends?
Virtue evaporates by motion into desire for fame and knowledge ends
in contentions. In the struggle for fame men
crush each other, while their wisdom but provokes rivalry. Both
are instruments of evil, and are not proper principles
of living.
"Besides, if before one's own solid character and integrity
become an influence among men and before one's own
disregard for fame reaches the hearts of men, one should go and
force the preaching of charity and duty and the
rules of conduct on wicked men, he would only make these men hate
him for his very goodness. Such a person may
be called a messenger of evil. A messenger of evil will be the
victim of evil from others. That, alas! will be your
end.
"On the other hand, if the Prince loves the good and hates
evil, what object will you have in inviting him to
change his ways? Before you have opened your mouth, the Prince
himself will have seized the opportunity to wrest
the victory from you. Your eyes will be dazzled, your expression
fade, your words will hedge about, your face will
show confusion, and your heart will yield within you. It will be
as though you took fire to quell fire, water to quell
water, which is known as aggravation. And if you begin with
concessions, there will be no end to them. If you
neglect this sound advice and talk too much, you will die at the
hands of that violent man.
"Of old, Chieh murdered Kuanlung P'ang, and Chou slew Prince
Pikan. Their victims were both men who
cultivated themselves and cared for the good of the people, and
thus offended their superiors. Therefore, their
superiors got rid of them, because of their goodness. This was the
result of their love for fame.
"Of old, Yao attacked the Ts'ung-chih and Hsu:-ao countries,
and Ya attacked the Yu-hus. The countries were
laid waste, their inhabitants slaughtered, their rulers killed.
Yet they fought without ceasing, and strove for material
objects to the last. These are instances of striving for fame or
for material objects. Have you not heard that even
Sages cannot overcome this love of fame and this desire for
material objects (in rulers)? Are you then likely to
succeed? But of course you have a plan. Tell it to me."
"Gravity of demeanor and humility; persistence and singleness
of purpose, -- will this do?" replied Yen Huei.
"Alas, no," said Confucius, "how can it? The Prince is a haughty
person, filled with pride, and his moods are fickle.
No one opposes him, and so he has come to take actual pleasure in
trampling upon the feelings of others. And if he
has thus failed in the practice of routine virtues, do you expect
that he will take readily to higher ones? He will
persist in his ways, and though outwardly he may agree with you,
inwardly he will not repent. How then will you
make him mend his ways?"
"Why, then," (replied Yen Huei) "I can be inwardly straight,
and outwardly yielding, and I shall substantiate what
I say by appeals to antiquity. He who is inwardly straight is a
servant of God. And he who is a servant of God
knows that the Son of Heaven and himself are equally the children
of God {21}. Shall then such a one trouble
whether his words are approved or disapproved by man? Such a
person is commonly regarded as an (innocent)
child. This is to be a servant of God. He who is outwardly
yielding is a servant of man. He bows, he kneels, he
folds his hands -- such is the ceremonial of a minister. What all
men do, shall I not do also? What all men do, none
will blame me for doing. This is to be a servant of man. He who
substantiates his words by appeals to antiquity is a
servant of the Sages of old. Although I utter the words of warning
and take him to task, it is the Sages of old who
speak, and not I. Thus I shall not receive the blame for my
uprightness. This is to be the servant of the Sages of old.
Will this do?"
"No! How can it?" replied Confucius. "Your plans are too
many. You are firm, but lacking in prudence.
However, you are only narrow minded, but you will not get into
trouble; but that is all. You will still be far from
influencing him because your own opinions are still too rigid."
"Then," said Yen Huei, "I can go no further. I venture to ask
for a method."
Confucius said, "Keep fast, and I shall tell you. Will it be
easy for you when you still have a narrow mind? He
who treats things as easy will not be approved by the bright
heaven."
"My family is poor," replied Yen Huei, "and for many months we
have tasted neither wine nor flesh. Is that not
fasting?"
"That is a fast according to the religious observances,"
answered Confucius, "but not the fasting of the heart."
"And may I ask," said Yen Huei, "in what consists the fasting
of the heart?"
"Concentrate your will. Hear not with your ears, but with
your mind; not with your mind, but with your spirit.
Let your hearing stop with the ears, and let your mind stop with
its images. Let your spirit, however, be like a blank,
passively responsive to externals. In such open receptivity only
can Tao abide. And that open receptivity is the
fasting of the heart."
"Then," said Yen Huei, "the reason I could not use this method
was because of consciousness of a self. If I could
apply this method, the assumption of a self would have gone. Is
this what you mean by the receptive state?"
"Exactly so," replied the Master. "Let me tell you. Enter
this man's service, but without idea of working for
fame. Talk when he is in a mood to listen, and stop when he is
not. Do without any sort of labels or self-
advertisements. Keep to the One and let things take their natural
course. Then you may have some chance of
success. It is easy to stop walking: the trouble is to walk
without touching the ground. As an agent of man, it is easy
to use artificial devices; but not as an agent of God. You have
heard of winged creatures flying. You have never
heard of flying without wings. You have heard of men being wise
with knowledge. You have never heard of men
wise without knowledge "Look at that emptiness. There is
brightness in an empty room. Good luck dwells in
repose. If there is not (inner) repose, your mind will be
galloping about though you are sitting still. Let your ears
and eyes communicate within but shut out all knowledge from the
mind. Then the spirits will come to dwell therein,
not to mention man. This is the method for the transformation
(influencing) of all Creation. It was the key to the
influence of Yu and Shun, and the secret of the success of Fu Hsi
and Chi Chu. How much more should the
common man follow the same rule?"
[Two sections are omitted here.]
A certain carpenter Shih was travelling to the Ch'i State. On
reaching Shady Circle, he saw a sacred li tree in the
temple to the God of Earth. It was so large that its shade could
cover a herd of several thousand cattle. It was a
hundred spans in girth, towering up eighty feet over the hilltop,
before it branched out. A dozen boats could be cut
out of it. Crowds stood gazing at it, but the carpenter took no
notice, and went on his way without even casting a
look behind. His apprentice however took a good look at it, and
when he caught up with his master, said, "Ever
since I have handled an adze in your service, I have never seen
such a splendid piece of timber. How was it that you,
Master, did not care to stop and look at it?"
"Forget about it. It's not worth talking about," replied his
master. "It's good for nothing. Made into a boat, it
would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would
break easily; into a door, it would sweat; into a pillar, it
would be worm-eaten. It is wood of no quality, and of no use.
That is why it has attained its present age."
When the carpenter reached home, he dreamt that the spirit of
the tree appeared to him in his sleep and spoke to
him as follows: "What is it you intend to compare me with? Is it
with fine-grained wood? Look at the cherry-apple,
the pear, the orange, the pumelo, and other fruit bearers? As soon
as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated
with indignity. The great boughs are snapped off, the small ones
scattered abroad. Thus do these trees by their own
value injure their own lives. They cannot fulfil their allotted
span of years, but perish prematurely because they
destroy themselves for the (admiration of) the world. Thus it is
with all things. Moreover, I tried for a long period to
be useless. Many times I was in danger of being cut down, but at
length I have succeeded, and so have become
exceedingly useful to myself. Had I indeed been of use, I should
not be able to grow to this height. Moreover, you
and I are both created things. Have done then with this criticism
of each other. Is a good-for-nothing fellow in
imminent danger of death a fit person to talk of a good-for-nothing
tree?" When the carpenter Shih awaked and told
his dream, his apprentice said, "If the tree aimed at uselessness,
how was it that it became a sacred tree?"
"Hush!" replied his master. "Keep quiet. It merely took
refuge in the temple to escape from the abuse of those
who do not appreciate it. Had it not become sacred, how many would
have wanted to cut it down! Moreover, the
means it adopts for safety is different from that of others, and to
criticize it by ordinary standards would be far wide
of the mark."
Tsech'i of Nan-po was travelling on the hill of Shang when he
saw a large tree which astonished him very much.
A thousand chariot teams of four horses could find shelter under
its shade. "What tree is this?" cried Tsech'i.
"Surely it must be unusually fine timber." Then looking up, he saw
that its branches were too crooked for rafters;
and looking down he saw that the trunk's twisting loose grain made
it valueless for coffins. He tasted a leaf, but it
took the skin off his lips; and its odor was so strong that it
would make a man intoxicated for three days together.
"Ah!" said Tsech'i, "this tree is really good for nothing, and that
is how it has attained this size. A spiritual man
might well follow its example of uselessness."
In the State of Sung there is a land belonging to the Chings,
where thrive the catalpa, the cedar, and the mulberry.
Such as are of one span or so in girth are cut down for monkey
cages. Those of two or three spans are cut down for
the beams of fine houses. Those of seven or eight spans are cut
down for the solid (unjointed) sides of rich men's
coffins. Thus they do not fulfil their allotted span of years, but
perish young beneath the axe. Such is the misfortune
which overtakes worth. For the sacrifices to the River God,
neither bulls with white foreheads, nor pigs with high
snouts, nor men suffering from piles, can be used. This is known
to all the soothsayers, for these are regarded as
inauspicious. The wise, however, would regard them as extremely
auspicious (to themselves).
There was a hunchback named Su. His jaws touched his navel.
His shoulders were higher than his head. His
neck bone stuck out toward the sky. His viscera were turned upside
down. His buttocks were where his ribs should
have been. By tailoring, or washing, he was easily able to earn
his living. By sifting rice he could make enough to
support a family of ten. When orders came down for a conscription,
the hunchback walked about unconcerned
among the crowd. And similarly, in government conscription for
public works, his deformity saved him from being
called. On the other hand, when it came to government donations of
grain for the disabled, the hunchback received
as much as three chung and of firewood, ten faggots. And if
physical deformity was thus enough to preserve his
body until the end of his days, how much more should moral and
mental deformity avail!
When Confucius was in the Ch'u State, the eccentric Chieh Yu
passed his door, saying, "O phoenix! O phoenix!
How has thy virtue fallen! Wait not for the coming years, nor
hanker back to the past. When the right principles
prevail on earth, prophets will fulfil their mission. When the
right principles prevail not, they will but preserve
themselves. At the present day, they are but trying to keep out of
jail! The good fortunes of this world are light as
feathers, yet none estimates them at their true value. The
misfortunes of this life are weighty as the earth, yet none
knows how to keep out of their reach. No more, no more, show off
your virtue. Beware, beware, move cautiously
on! O brambles, O brambles, wound not my steps! I pick my way
about, hurt not my feet!" {22}
The mountain trees invite their own cutting down; lamp oil
invites its own burning up. Cinnamon bark can be
eaten; therefore the tree is cut down. Lacquer can be used,
therefore the tree is scraped. All men know the utility of
useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.