Joined Toes

Joined toes and extra fingers are an addition to nature, though, functionally speaking, superfluous. Wens and tumours are an addition to the bodily form, though, as far as nature is concerned, superfluous. And similarly, to include charity and duty to one's neighbour among the functions of man's organism, is not true Tao.¹

Joined toes and extra fingers are additions to nature, though they serve no useful function. Cysts and tumors are additions to the body, though nature has no need for them. Similarly, it is not true Tao to count charity and duty to one's neighbor among the natural functions of the human body.¹

For just as joined toes are but useless lumps of flesh, and extra fingers but useless excrescences, so are any artificial additions to our internal economy but harmful adjuncts to real charity and duty to one's neighbour,² and are moreover prejudicial to the right use of intelligence.

Just as joined toes are useless lumps of flesh and extra fingers are useless growths, artificial additions to our inner nature harm true charity and duty to our neighbors.² These additions also interfere with the proper use of intelligence.

People with extra keenness of vision muddle themselves over the five colours, exaggerate the value of shades, and of distinctions of greens and yellows for sacrificial robes. Of such was Li Chu.³

People with overly sharp eyesight get confused by the five colors. They place too much value on shades and distinctions between greens and yellows in sacrificial robes. Li Chu was one such person.³

People with extra keenness of hearing muddle themselves over the five notes, exaggerate the tonic differences of the six pitch-pipes, and the various timbres of metal, stone, silk, and bamboo, of the Huang-chung, and of the Ta-lü. Of such was Shih K'uang.⁴

People with overly keen hearing get tangled up in the five notes. They exaggerate the differences in tone among the six pitch-pipes and the various timbres of metal, stone, silk, and bamboo, of the Huang-chung, and of the Ta-lü. Shih K'uang was one such person.⁴

People who graft on charity, force themselves to display this virtue in order to gain reputation and to enjoy the applause of the world for that which is of no account. Of such were Tsêng and Shih.⁵

People who artificially add charity to their lives force themselves to display it. They do so to gain a reputation and enjoy the world’s applause for something that does not matter. Tsêng and Shih were among them.⁵

People who refine in argument do but pile up tiles or knot ropes in their maunderings over the hard and white, the like and the unlike, wearing themselves out over mere useless terms. Of such were Yang and Mih.⁶

People who make subtle arguments merely pile up tiles or tie knots in ropes. They ramble about the hard and the white, the alike and the unlike, wearing themselves out over useless terms. Yang and Mih were among them.⁶

Therefore every addition to or deviation from nature belongs not to the ultimate perfection of all.⁷

Therefore, anything added to nature or departing from it does not belong to the ultimate perfection of all.⁷

He who would attain to such perfection never loses sight of the natural conditions of his existence. With him the joined is not united, nor the separated apart, nor the long in excess, nor the short wanting. For just as a duck's legs, though short, cannot be lengthened without pain to the duck, and a crane's legs, though long, cannot be shortened without misery to the crane, so that which is long in man's moral nature cannot be cut off, nor that which is short be lengthened. All sorrow is thus avoided.

Anyone who seeks such perfection never loses sight of the natural conditions of life. For such a person, things joined together are not made one, and things separated are not truly apart. What is long is not excessive, and what is short is not lacking. A duck's legs are short, but lengthening them would cause the duck pain. A crane's legs are long, but shortening them would make the crane miserable. In the same way, what is long in human moral nature cannot be cut short. Nor can what is short be lengthened. All sorrow is avoided in this way.

Intentional charity and intentional duty to one's neighbour are surely not included in our moral nature. Yet what sorrow these have involved. Divide your joined toes and you will howl: bite off your extra finger and you will scream. In one case there is too much, in the other too little; but the sorrow is the same. And the charitable of the age go about sorrowing over the ills of the age, while the non-charitable cut through the natural conditions of things in their greed after place and wealth. Surely then intentional charity and duty to one's neighbour are not included in our moral nature. Yet from the time of the Three Dynasties downwards what a fuss has been made about them!

Deliberate charity and deliberate duty to one's neighbor are surely not part of our moral nature. Yet how much sorrow they have caused! Separate your joined toes and you will howl. Bite off your extra finger and you will scream. In one case there is too much, and in the other too little, but the sorrow is the same. The charitable people of our age go about grieving over its troubles. Meanwhile, the uncharitable violate the natural order of things in their greed for position and wealth. Surely, then, deliberate charity and duty to one's neighbor are not part of our moral nature. Yet what a fuss people have made about them since the time of the Three Dynasties!

Those who cannot make perfect without arc, line, compasses, and square, injure the natural constitution of things. Those who require cords to bind and glue to stick, interfere with the natural functions of things. And those who seek to satisfy the mind of man by hampering with ceremonies and music and preaching charity and duty to one's neighbour, thereby destroy the intrinsicality of things.

Those who cannot make things perfect without arcs, straightedges, compasses, and squares harm their natural makeup. Those who need cords to bind things and glue to stick them together interfere with their natural functions. And those who try to satisfy the human mind by burdening it with ceremonies and music, and by preaching charity and duty to others, destroy the essential nature of things.

For such intrinsicality does exist, in this sense:—Things which are curved require no arcs; things which are straight require no lines; things which are round require no compasses; things which are rectangular require no squares; things which stick require no glue; things which hold together require no cords. And just as all things are produced, and none can tell how they are produced, so do all things possess their own intrinsic qualities and none can tell how they possess them. From time immemorial this has always been so, without variation. Why then should charity and duty to one's neighbour be as it were glued or corded on, and introduced into the domain of Tao, to give rise to doubt among mankind?

Things do have their own intrinsic qualities, in this sense: curved things need no arcs, and straight things need no lines. Round things need no compasses, and rectangular things need no squares. Things that stick need no glue, and things that hold together need no cords. All things come into being, and no one can say how they come into being. Just as surely, all things have their own intrinsic qualities, and no one can say how they have them. This has always been so, without variation, since time immemorial. Why, then, should charity and duty to one's neighbor be glued or tied on, so to speak, and brought into the realm of Tao, giving rise to doubt among people?

Lesser doubts change the rule of life; greater doubts change man's nature.

Small doubts change how people live. Greater doubts change human nature.

How do we know this? By the fact that ever since the time when Shun bid for charity and duty to one's neighbour in order to secure the empire, men have devoted their lives to the pursuit thereof. Is it not then charity and duty to one's neighbour which change the nature of man?

How do we know this? Ever since Shun promoted charity and duty to one's neighbor to gain the empire, people have devoted their lives to pursuing them. So isn't it charity and duty to one's neighbor that change human nature?

Therefore I have tried to show that from the time of the Three Dynasties it has always been the external which has changed the nature of man. If a mean man, he will die for gain. If a superior man, he will die for fame. If a man of rank, he will die for his ancestral honours. If a Sage, he will die for the world. The pursuits and ambitions of these men differ, but the injury to their natures involved in the sacrifice of their lives is the same.

So I have tried to show that, since the time of the Three Dynasties, external things have always changed human nature. A petty man will die for gain. A superior man will die for fame. A man of rank will die for the honors inherited from his ancestors. A Sage will die for the world. These men pursue different goals and have different ambitions. But by sacrificing their lives, they all do the same harm to their natures.

Tsang and Ku were shepherds, both of whom lost their flocks. On inquiry, it appeared that Tsang had been engaged in reading, while Ku had gone to take part in some trials of strength. Their occupations had been different, but the result was in each case loss of the sheep.

Tsang and Ku were shepherds, and both lost their flocks. When asked what had happened, Tsang said he had been reading. Ku had gone to take part in contests of strength. They had been doing different things, but both had lost their sheep.

Poh I died for fame at the foot of Mount Shou-yang.⁸

Poh I died for fame at the foot of Mount Shou-yang.⁸

Robber Chê died for gain on Mount T'ai.⁹

Robber Chê died on Mount T'ai in pursuit of gain.⁹

Their deaths were not the same, but the injury to their lives and natures was in each case the same. How then can we applaud the former and blame the latter?

They died in different ways, but the harm to their lives and natures was the same in each case. So how can we praise the first and blame the second?

And so, if a man dies for charity and duty to his neighbour the world calls him a noble fellow; but if he dies for gain, the world calls him a low fellow. The dying being the same, one is nevertheless called noble and the other low. But in point of injury to life and nature, the robber Chê and Poh I are one. Where then does the distinction of noble and low come in?

So if a man dies for charity and duty to his neighbor, the world calls him noble. But if he dies for gain, the world calls him low. Both deaths are the same, yet one man is called noble and the other low. But in the harm they do to life and nature, the robber Chê and Poh I are alike. So where is the difference between noble and low?

Were a man to apply himself to charity and duty towards his neighbour until he were the equal of Tsêng or Shih, this would not be what I mean by perfection. Or to flavours, until he were the equal of Yü Erh.¹⁰

If a man devoted himself to charity and duty toward his neighbor until he equaled Tsêng or Shih, that would not be what I mean by perfection. Nor would it be perfection if he devoted himself to flavors until he equaled Yü Erh.¹⁰

Or to sounds, until he were the equal of Shih K'uang. Or to colours, until he were the equal of Li Chu. What I mean by perfection is not what is meant by charity and duty to one's neighbour. It is found in the cultivation of Tao. And those whom I regard as cultivators of Tao are not those who cultivate charity and duty to one's neighbour. They are those who yield to the natural conditions of things. What I call perfection of hearing is not hearing others but oneself. What I call perfection of vision is not seeing others but oneself.¹¹

Or to sounds, until he matched Shih K'uang. Or to colors, until he matched Li Chu. By perfection, I do not mean charity and duty to one's neighbor. I mean cultivating Tao. Those I regard as cultivators of Tao do not cultivate charity and duty to one's neighbor. They yield to the natural conditions of things. Perfect hearing means hearing oneself, not others. Perfect vision means seeing oneself, not others.¹¹

For a man who sees not himself but others, takes not possession of himself but of others, thus taking what others should take and not what he himself should take.¹²

For a man sees others, not himself, and takes possession of others, not himself. In doing so, he takes what others should take, not what he himself should take.¹²

Instead of being himself, he in fact becomes some one else. And if a man thus becomes some one else instead of himself, this is a fatal error of which both the robber Chê and Poh I can be equally guilty.

Instead of being himself, he becomes someone else. And if a man does this, he makes a fatal error. Both the robber Chê and Poh I can be equally guilty of it.

And so, conscious of my own deficiency in regard to Tao, I do not venture at my best to practise the principles of charity and duty to my neighbour, nor at my worst to fall into the fatal error above-mentioned.

So, aware of my own shortcomings when it comes to Tao, I do not dare practice charity and duty toward my neighbor, even at my best. Nor, at my worst, do I dare fall into the fatal error mentioned above.