Chapter 20
Mountain Trees
Argument:—The alternatives of usefulness and uselessness—Tao a tertium quid—The human a hindrance to the divine—Altruism—Adaptation—Destiny—Illustrations.
Argument: Usefulness and uselessness as alternatives. Tao as a third possibility. The human as an obstacle to the divine. Altruism. Adaptation. Destiny. Illustrations.
[This chapter is supplementary to chapter iv.]
[This chapter supplements chapter iv.]
Chuang Tzŭ was travelling over a mountain when he saw a huge tree well covered with foliage. A woodsman had stopped near by, not caring to take it; and on Chuang Tzŭ enquiring the reason, he was told that it was of no use.
Chuang Tzŭ was traveling over a mountain when he saw a huge tree covered with leaves. A woodsman had stopped nearby but did not want to cut it down. When Chuang Tzŭ asked why, the woodsman said the tree was no use.
"This tree," cried Chuang Tzŭ, "by virtue of being good for nothing succeeds in completing its allotted span."
"This tree," cried Chuang Tzŭ, "lives out its allotted life because it is good for nothing."
When Chuang Tzŭ left the mountain, he put up at the house of an old friend. The latter was delighted, and ordered a servant to kill a goose and cook it.
When Chuang Tzŭ left the mountain, he stayed at an old friend's house. His friend was delighted and ordered a servant to kill a goose and cook it.
"Which shall I kill?" enquired the servant; "the one that cackles or the one that doesn't?"
"Which should I kill?" the servant asked. "The one that cackles or the one that doesn't?"
His master told him to kill the one which did not cackle. And accordingly, the next day, a disciple asked Chuang Tzŭ, saying, "Yesterday, that tree on the mountain, because good for nothing, was to succeed in completing its allotted span. But now, our host's goose, which is good for nothing, has to die. Upon which horn of the dilemma will you rest?"
His master told him to kill the goose that did not cackle. So the next day, a disciple asked Chuang Tzŭ, "Yesterday, the tree on the mountain would live out its allotted life because it was good for nothing. But now, our host's goose has to die because it is good for nothing. Which side of this dilemma will you choose?"
"I rest," replied Chuang Tzŭ with a smile, "halfway between the two. In that position, appearing to be what I am not, it is impossible to avoid the troubles of mortality; though, if charioted upon Tao and floating far above mortality, this would not be so. No praise, no blame; both great and small; changing with the change of time, but ever without special effort; both above and below; making for harmony with surroundings; reaching creation's First Cause; swaying all things and swayed by none;—how then shall such troubles come? This was the method of Shên Nung and Huang Ti.
“I stand,” replied Chuang Tzŭ with a smile, “halfway between the two. In that position, I appear to be what I am not, and I cannot avoid the troubles of mortal life. But if I rode on Tao and floated far above mortal life, I would not face those troubles. There would be no praise or blame. I would be both great and small, changing as the times changed, yet always without special effort. I would be both above and below, seeking harmony with my surroundings and reaching creation’s First Cause. I would influence all things and be influenced by none. How then could such troubles come? This was the way of Shên Nung and Huang Ti.
The text here is uncertain, and commentators explain it however they please. When a Chinese commentator does not understand the text, he usually glosses over it. He never says "I do not understand." Only Chu Fu Tzŭ could rise to that height.
"If another guest had arrived," says Lin Hsi Chung, "I think even the cackling goose would have had little chance."
"But amidst the mundane passions and relationships of man, such would not be the case. For where there is union, there is also separation; where there is completion, there is also destruction; where there is purity, there is also oppression; where there is honour, there is also disparagement; where there is doing, there is also undoing; where there is openness, there is also underhandedness; and where there is no semblance, there is also deceit. How then can there be any fixed point? Alas indeed! Take note, my disciples, that such is to be found only in the domain of Tao."
"But among the ordinary passions and relationships of human life, that would not be the case. For where there is union, there is also separation. Where there is completion, there is also destruction. Where there is purity, there is also oppression. Where there is honor, there is also disparagement. Where there is doing, there is also undoing. Where there is openness, there is also underhandedness. And where there is no outward appearance, there is also deceit. How, then, can there be any fixed point? Alas! Take note, my disciples: such a point is found only in the realm of Tao."
I Liao of Shih-nan paid a visit to the prince of Lu. The latter wore a melancholy look; whereupon the philosopher of Shih-nan enquired what was the cause.
I Liao of Shih-nan visited the prince of Lu. The prince looked sad, so the philosopher of Shih-nan asked what was wrong.
A sage from the state of Ch'u.
"I study the doctrines of the ancient Sages," replied the prince. "I carry on the work of my predecessors. I respect religion. I honour the good. Never for a moment do I relax in these points; yet I cannot avoid misfortune, and consequently I am sad."
"I study the teachings of the ancient sages," replied the prince. "I carry on the work of those who came before me. I respect religion. I honor good people. I never neglect any of these duties, even for a moment. Yet I cannot avoid misfortune, and so I am sad."
"Your Highness' method of avoiding misfortune," said the philosopher of Shih-nan, "is but a shallow one. A handsome fox or a striped leopard will live in a mountain forest, hiding beneath some precipitous cliff. This is their repose. They come out at night and keep in by day. This is their caution. Though under the stress of hunger and thirst, they lie hidden, hardly venturing to slink secretly to the river bank in search of food. This is their resoluteness. Nevertheless, they do not escape the misfortune of the net and the trap. But what crime have they committed? 'Tis their skin which is the cause of their trouble; and is not the State of Lu your Highness' skin? I would have your Highness put away body and skin alike, and cleansing your heart and purging it of passion, betake yourself to the land where mortality is not.
"Your Highness, your way of avoiding misfortune is a shallow one," said the philosopher of Shih-nan. "A handsome fox or a striped leopard lives in a mountain forest, hiding beneath a steep cliff. This is where it rests. It comes out at night and stays hidden by day. This shows its caution. Though hungry and thirsty, it stays hidden. It hardly dares to slip down to the riverbank in search of food. This shows its determination. Even so, it does not escape the misfortune of the net and the trap. But what crime has it committed? Its skin is the cause of its trouble. And is not the State of Lu your Highness' skin? I urge your Highness to put aside both body and skin. Cleanse your heart and purge it of passion, then go to the land where there is no death.
Tao.
"In Nan-yüeh there is a district, called Established-Virtue. Its people are simple and honest, unselfish, and without passions. They can make, but cannot keep. They give, but look for no return. They are not conscious of fulfilling obligations. They are not conscious of subservience to etiquette.
"In Nan-yüeh, there is a district called Established-Virtue. Its people are simple and honest, unselfish, and free from passions. They can make things but cannot keep them. They give without expecting anything in return. They do not think of themselves as fulfilling obligations. They do not think of themselves as following rules of etiquette.
Theirs is the natural good manners of well-ordered minds.
Their actions are altogether uncontrolled, yet they tread in the way of the wise. Life is for enjoyment; death, for burial. And thither I would have your Highness proceed, power discarded and the world left behind, only putting trust in Tao."
Their actions are completely uncontrolled, yet they follow the path of the wise. Life is for enjoyment, and death is for burial. I would have Your Highness follow that path, giving up power and leaving the world behind, trusting only in Tao."
"The road is long and dangerous," said the prince. "Rivers and hills to be crossed, and I without boat or chariot;—what then?"
"The road is long and dangerous," said the prince. "I have rivers and hills to cross, but no boat or chariot. What can I do?"
"Unhindered by body and unfettered in mind," replied the philosopher, "your Highness will be a chariot to yourself."
"With your body and mind free," the philosopher replied, "your Highness will be your own chariot."
"But the road is long and dreary," argued the prince, "and uninhabited.
"But the road is long and dreary," the prince argued, "and no one lives along it.
This is a play on the phrase "where mortality is not," above.
I shall have no one to turn to for help; and how, without food, shall I ever be able to get there?"
I’ll have no one to turn to for help. And without food, how will I ever get there?"
"Decrease expenditure and lessen desires," answered the philosopher, "and even though without provisions, there will be enough. And then through river and over sea your Highness will travel into shoreless illimitable space. From the border-land, those who act as escort will return; but thence onwards your Highness will travel afar.
“Spend less and want less,” the philosopher answered, “and even without provisions, you will have enough. Then your Highness will travel across rivers and seas into boundless space without shores. At the border, your escorts will turn back. But your Highness will travel far beyond that point.
About energy.
"It is the human in ourselves which is our hindrance; and the human in others which causes our sorrow. The great Yao had not this human element himself, nor did he perceive it in others. And I would have your Highness put off this hindrance and rid yourself of this sorrow, and roam with Tao alone through the realms of Infinite Nought.
"The human element in us holds us back, and the human element in others causes us sorrow. The great Yao had no human element in himself, nor did he see it in others. I would have Your Highness cast off this hindrance and free yourself from this sorrow. Then roam with Tao alone through the realms of Infinite Nought.
"Suppose a boat is crossing a river, and another empty boat is about to collide with it. Even an irritable man would not lose his temper. But supposing there was some one in the second boat. Then the occupant of the first would shout to him to keep clear. And if the other did not hear the first time, nor even when called to three times, bad language would inevitably follow. In the first case there was no anger, in the second there was; because in the first case the boat was empty, and in the second it was occupied. And so it is with man. If he could only roam empty through life, who would be able to injure him?"
"Suppose a boat is crossing a river, and another, empty boat is about to collide with it. Even an irritable man would not lose his temper. But suppose someone was in the second boat. Then the person in the first boat would shout for him to keep clear. If the other man did not hear him, even after three calls, cursing would inevitably follow. In the first case there was no anger, but in the second there was. That was because the first boat was empty, while the second was occupied. And so it is with people. If a person could only wander empty through life, who would be able to injure him?"
With his mind in a negative state, closed to all impressions from the outside world conveyed through the senses.
Pei Kung Shê, minister to Duke Ling of Wei, levied contributions for making bells. An altar was built outside the city gate; and in three months the bells, upper and lower, were all hung.
Pei Kung Shê, a minister to Duke Ling of Wei, collected contributions to make bells. An altar was built outside the city gate. Within three months, all the bells, upper and lower, were hung.
For sacrifice.
The bell-chime was a frame with bells hanging from upper and lower bars.
When Wang Tzŭ Ch'ing Chi saw them, he asked, saying, "How, Sir, did you manage this?"
When Wang Tzŭ Ch'ing Chi saw them, he asked, "Sir, how did you manage this?"
Minister to the ruling House of Chou.
"In the domain of ONE," replied Shê, "there may not be managing. I have heard say that which is carved and polished reverts nevertheless to its natural condition. And so I made allowances for ignorance and for suspicion. I betrayed no feeling when welcomed or dismissed. I forbade not those who came, nor detained those who went away. I showed no resentment towards the unwilling, nor gratitude towards those who gave. Every one subscribed what he liked; and thus in my daily collection of subscriptions, no injury was done.—How much more then those who have the great WAY?"
"In the realm of ONE," replied Shê, "there may be no managing. I have heard that what is carved and polished still returns to its natural state. So I made allowances for ignorance and suspicion. I showed no emotion when welcomed or dismissed. I did not turn away those who came or hold back those who left. I showed no resentment toward those unwilling to give, and no gratitude toward those who gave. Everyone contributed what they wished. So, in my daily collection of contributions, no harm was done. How much more, then, is this true of those who have the great WAY?"
If my success came from the simple principle stated above, imagine the success that would come from Tao! Tao extends such principles infinitely into every phase of existence.
The Chinese word used here for "way" is a synonym for Tao. It shows that Tao originally meant "road." Thus Lao Tzŭ is said to have explained that the Way he taught was not a path one could walk on.
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'ên and Ts'ai, he passed seven days without food.
When Confucius was trapped between Ch'ên and Ts'ai, he went seven days without food.
The minister Jen went to condole with him, and said, "You were near, Sir, to death."
The minister Jen came to offer his sympathy and said, "Sir, you nearly died."
"I was indeed," replied Confucius.
"I certainly was," Confucius replied.
"Do you fear death, Sir?" enquired Jen.
"Are you afraid of death, sir?" Jen asked.
"I do," said Confucius.
"I do," said Confucius.
"Then I will try to teach you," said Jen, "the way not to die.
"Then I will try to teach you," said Jen, "how not to die.
"In the eastern sea there are certain birds, called the i-êrh. They behave themselves in a modest and unassuming manner, as though unpossessed of ability. They fly simultaneously: they roost in a body. In advancing, none strives to be first; in retreating, none ventures to be last. In eating, none will be the first to begin; it is considered proper to take the leavings of others. Therefore, in their own ranks they are at peace, and the outside world is unable to harm them. And thus they escape trouble.
"In the eastern sea, there are birds called the i-êrh. They are modest and unassuming, as if they had no special abilities. They fly together and roost in a group. When they move forward, none tries to be first. When they turn back, none dares to be last. When they eat, none is the first to begin. They consider it proper to eat what others leave behind. So they live in peace with one another, and the outside world cannot harm them. In this way, they escape trouble.
"Straight trees are the first felled. Sweet wells are soonest exhausted. And you, you make a show of your knowledge in order to startle fools. You cultivate yourself in contrast to the degradation of others. And you blaze along as though the sun and moon were under your arms; consequently, you cannot avoid trouble.
"Straight trees are the first to be cut down. Wells with sweet water are the first to run dry. And you show off your knowledge to startle fools. You improve yourself to contrast with the corruption of others. And you blaze along as if you carried the sun and moon under your arms. As a result, you cannot avoid trouble.
See ch. xix.
"Formerly, I heard a very wise man say, Self-praise is no recommendation. In merit achieved there is deterioration. In fame achieved there is loss. Who can discard both merit and fame and become one with the rest? Tao pervades all things but is not seen. Tê moves through all things but its place is not known. In its purity and constancy, it may be compared with the purposeless. Remaining concealed, rejecting power, it works not for merit nor for fame. Thus, not censuring others, it is not censured by others.
"Once, I heard a very wise man say, Praising yourself is no recommendation. Merit, once gained, deteriorates. Fame, once gained, brings loss. Who can give up both merit and fame and become one with everyone else? Tao is present in all things but cannot be seen. Tê moves through all things, but its place is unknown. In its purity and constancy, it may be compared to what has no purpose. It stays hidden and rejects power. It does not work for merit or fame. So, because it does not criticize others, others do not criticize it.
This is "virtue," the expression of Tao.
"And if the perfect man cares not for fame, why, Sir, should you take pleasure in it?"
"And if the perfect man doesn't care about fame, sir, why should you take pleasure in it?"
"Good indeed!" replied Confucius; and forthwith he took leave of his friends and dismissed his disciples and retired to the wilds, where he dressed himself in skins and serge and fed on acorns and chestnuts. He passed among the beasts and birds and they took no heed of him. And if so, how much more among men?
"Very good!" replied Confucius. He immediately said goodbye to his friends, dismissed his disciples, and withdrew into the wilderness. There he dressed in animal skins and coarse cloth and ate acorns and chestnuts. He walked among the animals and birds, and they paid him no attention. And if so, how much more among people?
An episode that is undoubtedly not authentic.
Confucius asked Tzŭ Sang Hu, saying, "I have been twice expelled from Lu. My tree was cut down in Sung. I have been tabooed in Wei. I am a failure in Shang and Chou. I was surrounded between Ch'ên and Ts'ai. And in addition to all these troubles, my friends have separated from me and my disciples are gone. How is this?"
Confucius asked Tzŭ Sang Hu, "I have been driven out of Lu twice. My tree was cut down in Sung. I have been shunned in Wei. I am a failure in Shang and Chou. I was surrounded between Ch'ên and Ts'ai. On top of all these troubles, my friends have left me and my disciples are gone. Why has all this happened?"
See ch. vi.
See ch. xiv.
"Have you not heard," replied Sang Hu, "how when the men of Kuo fled, one of them, named Lin Hui, cast aside most valuable regalia and carried away his child upon his back? Some one suggested that he was influenced by the value of the child;—but the child's value was small. Or by the inconvenience of the regalia;—but the inconvenience of the child would be much greater. Why then did he leave behind the regalia and carry off the child?
"Have you not heard," Sang Hu replied, "what happened when the men of Kuo fled? One of them, Lin Hui, left behind valuable regalia and carried his child on his back. Someone suggested that he did this because the child was valuable. But the child's value was small. Or perhaps the regalia were inconvenient to carry. But the child would have been much more inconvenient. Why, then, did he leave the regalia behind and carry the child away?
"Lin Hui himself said, 'The regalia involved a mere question of money. The child was from God.'
"Lin Hui himself said, 'The regalia were only a matter of money. The child was from God.'
"And so it is that in trouble and calamity mere money questions are neglected, while we ever cling nearer to that which is from God. And between neglecting and clinging to, the difference is great.
"And so, in times of trouble and disaster, we put mere questions of money aside, while we cling ever more closely to what comes from God. And there is a great difference between putting something aside and clinging to it.
"The friendship of the superior man is negative like water. The friendship of the mean man is full-flavoured like wine. That of the superior man passes from the negative to the affectionate. That of the mean man passes from the full-flavoured to nothing. The friendship of the mean man begins without due cause, and in like manner comes to an end.
"The friendship of a noble person is plain like water. The friendship of a petty person is rich like wine. The noble person's friendship grows from plainness into affection. The petty person's friendship fades from richness to nothing. The petty person's friendship begins without good reason and ends in the same way.
"I hear and obey," replied Confucius; and forthwith he went quietly home, put an end to his studies and cast aside his books. His disciples no longer saluted him as teacher; but his love for them deepened every day.
"I hear and obey," Confucius replied. He went straight home quietly, stopped studying, and put aside his books. His disciples no longer greeted him as their teacher, but his love for them grew deeper every day.
On another occasion, Sang Hu said to him again, "When Shun was about to die, he commanded the Great Yü as follows:—Be careful. Act in accordance with your physical body. Speak in accordance with your feelings. You will thus not get into difficulty with the former nor suffer annoyance in the latter. And as under these conditions you will not stand in need of outward embellishment of any kind, it follows that you therefore will not stand in need of anything."
On another occasion, Sang Hu said to him again, "When Shun was about to die, he instructed the Great Yü: Be careful. Act according to your physical body. Speak according to your feelings. In this way, you will not get into trouble with your body or suffer annoyance from your feelings. And under these conditions, you will not need any outward embellishment. So you will not need anything."
This episode is also of doubtful authorship. However, the commentators say nothing against its authenticity.
Chuang Tzŭ put on cotton clothes with patches in them, and arranging his girdle and tieing on his shoes, went to see the prince of Wei.
Chuang Tzŭ put on patched cotton clothes, adjusted his belt, and tied his shoes. Then he went to see the prince of Wei.
To keep them from falling off.
"How miserable you look, Sir!" cried the prince.
"You look so miserable, sir!" cried the prince.
"It is poverty, not misery," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "A man who has Tao cannot be miserable. Ragged clothes and old boots make poverty, not misery. Mine is what is called being out of harmony with one's age.
"It is poverty, not misery," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "A man who has Tao cannot be miserable. Ragged clothes and old boots mean poverty, not misery. My situation is what people call being out of step with the times.
"Has your Highness never seen a climbing ape? Give it some large tree, and it will twist and twirl among the branches as though monarch of all it surveys. Yi and Fêng Mêng can never catch a glimpse of it.
"Has Your Highness ever seen a climbing ape? Give it a large tree, and it will twist and twirl among the branches as if it ruled everything it sees. Yi and Fêng Mêng can never catch a glimpse of it.
An ancient archer and his apprentice.
"But put it in a bramble bush, and it will move cautiously with sidelong glances, trembling all over with fear. Not that its muscles relax in the face of difficulty, but because it is at a disadvantage as regards position, and is unable to make use of its skill. And how should any one, living under foolish sovereigns and wicked ministers, help being miserable, even though he might wish not to be so?
"But put it in a bramble bush, and it will move cautiously, glancing sideways and trembling with fear. This is not because its muscles give way when it faces difficulty. It is because its position puts it at a disadvantage, so it cannot use its skill. And how can anyone living under foolish rulers and wicked ministers avoid being miserable, even if they wish to?"
"It was under such circumstances that Pi Kan was disembowelled."
"Under these circumstances, Pi Kan was disemboweled."
See ch. iv. The episode above is too much even for Chinese critics, who have condemned it accordingly.
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'ên and Ts'ai and had gone seven days without food, then, holding in his left hand a piece of dry wood and in his right hand a dry stick, he sang a ballad of Piao Shih.
Confucius was trapped between Ch'ên and Ts'ai and had gone seven days without food. Holding a piece of dry wood in his left hand and a dry stick in his right, he sang a ballad of Piao Shih.
An ancient ruler.
He had an instrument, but the gamut was wanting. There was sound, but no tune. The sound of the wood accompanied by the voice of the man yielded a harsh result, but it was in keeping with the feelings of his audience.
He had an instrument, but it lacked a full range of notes. There was sound, but no tune. The wooden instrument and the man's voice made a harsh sound together, but it suited the feelings of his audience.
Yen Hui, who was standing by in a respectful attitude, thereupon began to turn his eyes about him; and Confucius, fearing lest he should be driven by exaltation into bragging, or by a desire for safety into sorrow, spoke to him as follows:—
Yen Hui stood nearby respectfully and began to look around. Confucius feared that elation might lead Yen Hui to boast, or that a desire for safety might lead him to sorrow. So he spoke to Yen Hui as follows:
Because of hearing the song.
"Hui! it is easy to escape injury from God; it is difficult to avoid the benefits of man. There is no beginning and there is no end. Man and God are ONE. Who then was singing just now?"
"Hui! It is easy to escape harm from God, but hard to avoid help from people. There is no beginning and no end. Man and God are ONE. Who was singing just now?"
"Pray, Sir, what do you mean," asked Yen Hui, "by saying that it is easy to escape injury from God?"
"Sir, what do you mean," asked Yen Hui, "when you say it is easy to avoid injury from God?"
"Hunger, thirst, cold, and heat," replied Confucius, "are but as fetters in the path of life. They belong to the natural laws which govern the universe; and in obedience thereto I pass on my allotted course. The subject dares not disregard the mandates of his prince. And if this is man's duty to man, how much more shall it be his duty to God?"
"Hunger, thirst, cold, and heat," replied Confucius, "are like chains along the path of life. They are part of the natural laws that govern the universe. I follow those laws as I go along my appointed course. A subject must not ignore his prince's commands. And if this is a person's duty to another person, how much more is it his duty to God?"
"What is the meaning of difficult to avoid the benefits of man?" asked Yen Hui.
"What does it mean to say that the benefits of man are hard to avoid?" asked Yen Hui.
"If one begins," replied Confucius, "by adaptation to surroundings, rank and power follow without cease. Such advantages are external; they are not derived from oneself. And my life is more or less dependent upon the external. The superior man does not steal these; nor does the good man pilfer them. What then do I but take them as they come?
"If you begin by adapting to your surroundings," Confucius replied, "rank and power follow without end. These advantages come from outside, not from within. And my life depends more or less on things outside myself. A superior person does not steal these advantages, and a good person does not pilfer them. So what can I do but accept them as they come?
"Therefore it has been said that no bird is so wise as the swallow. If it sees a place unfit to dwell in, it will not bestow a glance thereon; and even though it should drop food there, it will leave the food and fly away. Now swallows fear man. Yet they dwell among men. Because there they find their natural abode."
"That is why people have said that no bird is wiser than the swallow. If it sees a place unfit to live in, it will not even look at it. Even if it drops food there, it will leave the food and fly away. Swallows fear people. Yet they live among them because that is where they find their natural home."
In the same way, people should adapt to the conditions around them.
"And what is the meaning," enquired Yen Hui, "of no beginning and no end?"
"And what does it mean to have no beginning and no end?" asked Yen Hui.
"The work goes on," replied Confucius, "and no man knoweth the cause. How then shall he know the end, or the beginning? There is nothing left to us but to wait."
"The work goes on," Confucius replied, "and no one knows the cause. How, then, can anyone know its end or its beginning? All we can do is wait."
"And that man and God are One," said Yen Hui. "What does that mean?"
"And man and God are one," said Yen Hui. "What does that mean?"
"That man is," replied Confucius, "is from God. That God is, is also from God. That man is not God, is his nature.
"Man's existence," Confucius replied, "comes from God. God's existence also comes from God. Man's nature is not to be God.
Namely, what makes him human.
The Sage quietly waits for death as the end."
The Sage quietly waits for death as the end."
Which will reunite him with God.
When Chuang Tzŭ was wandering in the park at Tiao-ling, he saw a strange bird which came from the south. Its wings were seven feet across. Its eyes were an inch in circumference. And it flew close past Chuang Tzŭ's head to alight in a chestnut grove.
While Chuang Tzŭ was walking in the park at Tiao-ling, he saw a strange bird coming from the south. Its wings were seven feet across. Its eyes were an inch around. The bird flew close past Chuang Tzŭ's head and landed in a chestnut grove.
"What manner of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "With strong wings it does not fly away. With large eyes it does not see."
"What kind of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "It has strong wings but does not fly away. It has large eyes but cannot see."
Otherwise, it would not have flown so close.
So he picked up his skirts and strode towards it with his cross-bow, anxious to get a shot. Just then he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the shade, forgetful of all else. And he saw a mantis spring and seize it, forgetting in the act its own body, which the strange bird immediately pounced upon and made its prey. And this it was which had caused the bird to forget its own nature.
So he gathered up his robes and strode toward the bird with his crossbow, eager to shoot it. Just then, he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the shade, forgetting everything else. He saw a mantis leap and seize the cicada, forgetting its own body in the act. The strange bird immediately pounced on the mantis and made it its prey. This was what had caused the bird to forget its own nature.
And come so close to man.
This episode has become widely known in everyday Chinese life. A roughly made woodcut depicts its details, adding a tiger about to spring on the man and a well into which both will eventually fall. Words beside the image read: "All is Destiny!"
"Alas!" cried Chuang Tzŭ with a sigh, "how creatures injure one another. Loss follows the pursuit of gain."
"Oh!" Chuang Tzŭ cried with a sigh. "How creatures hurt one another. Loss follows the pursuit of gain."
Those who prey on others are preyed upon themselves.
So he laid aside his bow and went home, driven away by the park-keeper who wanted to know what business he had there.
So he put down his bow and went home. The park keeper had driven him away, demanding to know what he was doing there.
For three months after this, Chuang Tzŭ did not leave the house; and at length Lin Chü asked him, saying, "Master, how is it that you have not been out for so long?"
For three months after this, Chuang Tzŭ did not leave the house. At last, Lin Chü asked him, "Master, why haven't you gone out for so long?"
A disciple.
"While keeping my physical frame," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "I lost sight of my real self. Gazing at muddy water, I lost sight of the clear abyss. Besides, I have learnt from the Master as follows:—"When you go into the world, follow its customs."
"While keeping my body, I lost sight of my true self," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "Looking at muddy water, I lost sight of the clear abyss. Besides, I learned this from the Master: "When you enter the world, follow its customs."
Noncanonical works attribute this saying to Confucius. But if anyone was "Master" to Chuang Tzŭ, it would, of course, be Lao Tzŭ.
Now when I strolled into the park at Tiao-ling, I forgot my real self. That strange bird which flew close past me to the chestnut grove, forgot its nature. The keeper of the chestnut grove took me for a thief. Consequently I have not been out."
When I walked into the park at Tiao-ling, I forgot my true self. The strange bird that flew close past me into the chestnut grove forgot its nature. The keeper of the chestnut grove mistook me for a thief. So I have not been out since."
When Yang Tzŭ went to the Sung State, he passed a night at an inn.
When Yang Tzŭ went to the Sung State, he spent a night at an inn.
Yang Chu. See ch. viii.
The innkeeper had two concubines, one beautiful, the other ugly. The latter he loved; the former, he hated.
The innkeeper had two concubines. One was beautiful, and the other was ugly. He loved the ugly one and hated the beautiful one.
Yang Tzŭ asked how this was; whereupon one of the inn servants said, "The beautiful one is so conscious of her beauty that one does not think her beautiful. The ugly one is so conscious of her ugliness that one does not think her ugly."
Yang Tzŭ asked why this was so. One of the inn servants said, "The beautiful one is so aware of her beauty that people do not think her beautiful. The ugly one is so aware of her ugliness that people do not think her ugly."
"Note this, my disciples!" cried Yang Tzŭ. "Be virtuous, but without being consciously so; and wherever you go, you will be beloved."
"Remember this, my students!" cried Yang Tzŭ. "Be virtuous without being conscious of it, and you will be loved wherever you go."