University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER IX

1[1]

Mencius as a child was once reciting his lessons when his mother
happened to be spinning. Breaking off suddenly, he stopped in
the middle, then started up again. His mother knew his mind
was wandering, and called out to ask, "Why do you stop in the
middle?"

He replied, "I had forgotten part of it, and then I remembered
it again." His mother took a knife and cut her thread. She did
this as a warning to him. After that Mencius did not let his mind
wander again.

When Mencius was a child, their neighbor on the east killed
a pig. Mencius asked his mother, "What did our neighbor on the
east kill the pig for?"

His mother said, "To feed you." His mother then regretted
[her words] and said,[2] "When I was pregnant with this child I
would not sit on a mat that was not straight,[3] nor would I eat
meat that was not cut properly[4] —this was teaching him in the
womb. To deceive him now when he has grown to have understanding
is to teach him to be distrustful." Whereupon she purchased
some of the pork from the neighbor on the east and fed it
to him to show that she had not been deceiving him. The Ode
says,[5]

It speaks of a worthy mother making her son worthy.

2[1]

When T`ien-tzŭ had been minister three years he went back
home to rest. He had got a hundred i of gold,[2]
which he presented
to his mother. His mother said, "Where did you get this gold?"

He replied, "It is the salary I received as an official."

His mother said, "Were you three years a minister without
[having to] eat? I do not care for this way of holding office. The
filial son, in serving his parents, makes every effort to be honest,
and does not allow anything improper to come into his house.
[To be disloyal as a minister] is to be unfilial as a son.[3] May you
get rid of it."

T`ien-tzŭ was ashamed and left. He went to the court and
returned the gold. He resigned and asked to be put in prison.
The king,[4] considering the mother to be a worthy woman and
pleased with her sense of what was proper (i), pardoned[5] T`ientzŭ's
fault and ordered him to come back as minister. The gold
he gave to the mother.

The Ode says,[6]

It speaks of a worthy mother making her son worthy.[7]

3[1]

Confucius was on a trip[2] when he heard sounds of bitter
weeping. Confucius said, "Make haste! Make haste! There is a

sage up ahead!" When they got there it was Kao Yü,[3] dressed in
coarse cloth and holding a sickle, weeping by the side of the road.
Confucius left his carriage and said to him, "You are not in
mourning; why do you weep so bitterly?"

Kao Yü said, "I have erred in three ways. When I was young
I was [fond of] study and traveled [about] among the feudal lords,[4]
to the neglect of my parents. This was my first error. Setting
my ambitions high, (?) I was careless in serving my prince.[5] This
was my second error. I have broken off relations with intimate
friends for trifling causes.[6] This was my third error. `The tree
would be still, but the wind will not stop,[7] the son wishes to look
after them, but his parents will not tarry.'[8] When they are past
there is no [overtaking them—such are the years of our lives];
when they are gone there is no recalling them—such are our
parents.[9] I venture to take leave [of the world (?) from this
time." And he at once stiffened in death.[10]

Confucius said, "May you take a warning from him, my
disciples. It is worth your attention." Whereupon thirteen of his
followers took their leave and returned home to look after their
parents.

4[1]

Tzŭ-lu said, "Here is a man who gets up early and goes to
bed late, whose hands and feet are callused and whose face and
eyes are burnt black from planting the five cereals in the service
of his parents, and yet he has not the name of a filial son. Why
is this?"

Confucius said, "I suspect[2] that probably he is not respectful
in bearing, or his expression is not conciliatory, or his words are
not polite. The ancients had a saying, `Is it clothing? Is it food?
I have never relied on you for them.' "[3]

"This son works hard to serve his parents, and he lacks these
three defects. How is it he [still] has not the name of filial?"[4]

"It may be that his friends are possibly not good men. Sit
down and I will tell you. If a man, although he has the strength
of the stoutest warrior in the state,[5] is unable to lift his own
body, it is not that his strength is lacking, but that such a feat
is impossible.[6] For this reason the superior man inside his house

is sincerely filial, and outside he makes friends with worthy men.
Then how can be not have the name of a filial son?"

The Ode says,[7]

5[1]

Po-ya played the lute while Chung Tzŭ-ch`i listened to him.
As he played he happened to think of Mt. [T`ai],[2] and Chung
Tzŭ-ch`i said, "How well you play! [The music] is lofty as Mt.
T`ai." [After a little while][3] he thought of flowing water, and
Chung Tzŭ-ch`i said, "How well you play! [The music] is expansive
as the Chiang or the River."

When Chung Tzŭ-ch`i died, Po-ya split his lute and broke the
strings, and to the end of his life did not again play the lute,
maintaining that there was no one in the world worth playing for.
It is not only the lute that is like this; for the sage it is also true.
If it is not the proper time, in what way can the sage accomplish
his meritorious acts?

6[1]

Ch`in attacked and defeated Wei.[2] One of the younger sons[3]
[of the ruling house of Wei] escaped and was not taken. An order
was issued to the state of Wei that read, "Anyone who takes the
kung-tzŭ will be rewarded with a thousand chin of gold. Anyone

who conceals him will be punished along with his relatives to the
tenth degree."

The kung-tzŭ's nurse had escaped with him, and someone said
to her, "Whoever gets the kung-tzŭ will be very richly rewarded.
His nurse should know where the kung-tzŭ is, [and if so, should]
tell it."

The nurse replied, "I do not know where he is, and even if
I did know, I would die sooner than tell. When you have brought
up a child for someone, you cannot tell where you have hidden
him (?). That would be to betray one's master and to [show]
fear [of] death. I have heard that a loyal person does not betray
his master, nor does a brave one fear death. The rule is that one
who brings up another's child has the duty of[4] keeping him alive,
not that of killing him. It would not be right to violate what is
proper (i) and to practice deceit out of fear of punishment and
with an eye to gain. I cannot go on living and let the kung-tzŭ
die alone." And she fled with the kung-tzŭ into a marsh. Catching
sight of them, some soldiers of Ch`in shot at them. The nurse
shielded [the boy] with her own body and received twelve arrows,
not one of which did she let strike the kung-tzŭ.[5] When the King
of Ch`in heard of it, he performed the Great Sacrifice[6] to her,
and further gave her elder brother the rank of Great Officer.

The Ode says,[7]

7[1]

Tzŭ-lu said, "If a person treats me well, I will also treat him
well. If a person does not treat me well, I will not treat him well."

Tzŭ-kung said, "If a person treats me well, I will also treat
him well. If a person does not treat me well, I will bring him
around. It is simply a matter of adapting oneself."[2]

Yen Hui said, "If a person treats me well, I will also treat
him well. If a person does not treat me well, I will still treat him
well."

The three disciples differing among themselves in what they
advocated, asked the Master about it. He said, "What Yu
advocates[3] is appropriate to the Man and Mai barbarians; what
Tz`ŭ advocates is appropriate to friends; what Hui advocates is
appropriate to relatives."

The Ode says,[4]

8[1]

Duke Ching of Ch`i gave himself over to wine. Drunk, he
loosened his clothes and cap, and [began] to play on a lute for
his own enjoyment. Turning to his attendants, he said, "Does the
perfectly good (jen) man also take pleasure in this sort of
thing?"[2]

His attendants said, "The ears and eyes of the man who is
perfectly good are like those of other people; why should he not
enjoy it?"

Duke Ching said, "Send a carriage to fetch Yen-tzŭ." Yen-tzŭ
had heard [of what was going on], and came dressed in court
costume. Duke Ching said, "Today I have been enjoying this,
and I would like to share [my pleasure] with the Great Officers.
[Let us dispense with propriety (li).]"[3]

Yen-tzŭ said, "What Your Highness proposes is wrong. In the
state of Ch`i, men of five ch`ih[4] and upwards [in height] are all
of them strong enough to overcome you or me. The reason they
do not dare do so is out of respect for propriety (li). Truly, if
the Son of Heaven lacks propriety, he will have no means of
protecting the altars of Earth and Grain; if the feudal lords lack
propriety, they will have no means of protecting their states. If
those in a superior position lack propriety, they will have no way
of employing those under them. If those in a subordinate position
lack propriety, they will have no way of serving their superiors.
If the Great Officers lack propriety, they will have no way of
keeping their own houses in order. If brothers lack propriety,
they will be unable to live together. If a common man lacks
propriety, he had best quickly die."[5]

Duke Ching, shamefaced, got off the mat and made his excuses,
"I am devoid of goodness (jên). I have been brought to this by
evil attendants who befuddled me with drink. Let me put the
attendants to death to make good their transgression."

Yen-tzŭ said, "The attendants have transgressed in nothing.
If Your Highness were fond of propriety, then men with propriety
would come to you, while those lacking propriety would leave.
If you dislike propriety, then those lacking propriety will come,
while men with propriety will leave. Of what crime are the
attendants guilty?"

Duke Ching approved, and, having changed his clothes, took
his seat. When the wine beaker had three times passed around,
Yen-tzŭ took his leave. Duke Ching escorted him out, bowing.

The Ode says,[6]

9[1]

There is a tradition that T`ang I-jo [once] knocked at Confucius'
gate and said, "Is Ch`iu at home? Is Ch`iu at home?"

Tzŭ-kung answered, "The superior man honors the worthy and
bears with all. He praises the good and pities the incompetent.[2]
His affection for his family extends to outsiders. What he does
not want done to himself, he does not do to others.[3] Why do you
use my teacher's given name?"

T`ang I-jo said, "Why do you who are so immature speak
rudely?"[4] (?)

Tzŭ-kung said, "If a large chariot is not made tight,[4] it will
not be equal to its function. If [the strings of] a lute or cither
are not pulled tight,[4] they will not produce any music. Your
words were rude,[4] so I responded with rudeness."[4]

T`ang I-jo said, "At first I had the strength of a wild goose,
but now I simply flap my wings in vain."

Tzŭ-kung said, "Without the strength of a wild goose, how
can[5] you lift your wings?"

The Ode says,[6]

10[1]

Duke Ching of Ch`i went on a shooting expedition to the lake
at Chao-hua. Yen Têng-chü,[2] who was in charge of the birds, lost

one. Duke Ching was angry and wanted to put him to death.
Yen-tzŭ said, "Têng-chü is guilty of four crimes punishable by
death. Please permit me to charge him with them before punishing
him."

Duke Ching said, "Granted."

Yen-tzŭ said, "Têng-chü, you[3] were in charge of the birds for
our Prince, but you lost one. This is your first crime. You have
caused our Prince to kill a man because of a bird. This is your
second crime. You will be the cause of the feudal lords of the
four [neighboring] states, when they get words of it, believing
that our Prince values birds above his officers. This is your third
crime. When the Son of Heaven hears of it; he will certainly
degrade our Prince, so that the altars to Earth and Grain will be
endangered, while [worship in] the ancestral temple will be broken
off. This is your fourth crime. For these four crimes you deserve
to be put to death without mercy.[4] I would like to administer
the punishment."

Duke Ching said, "Stop! I too was at fault. I would like you,
Master, to make my humble excuses."

The Ode says,[5]

11[1]

Marquis Wên of Wei asked Hsieh Hu,[2] "I am going to appoint
a governor of Hsi-ho. Who is fitted for the place?"

Hsieh Hu said, "Ching Po-liu[3] is a worthy man and well enough
fitted." Marquis Wên appointed Ching Po-liu governor of Hsi-ho.[4]

Ching Po-liu asked his attendants, "Who mentioned me to our
Prince?"

They all said, "It was Hsieh Hu."

Ching Po-liu went to see Hsieh Hu and thanked him, saying,
"You must have forgiven me my fault. For mentioning me to the
prince, I respectfully and repeatedly bow my thanks."

Hsieh Hu said, "Mentioning you was a public matter, but
hating you is my private affair.[5] The public matter has been
discharged, but I hate you as before." He strung his bow and
shot him. [Po-liu] ran ten steps and collapsed. [Hsieh Hu] may
be called brave.[6]

The Ode says,[7]

12[1]

In Ch`u there was a man skilled in physiognomizing people.
His predictions never failed,[2] and he was famous throughout the
country. King Chuang summoned him to an audience and asked
him about it. He replied, "I am not able to physiognomize people;
it is a mater of being able to size up their friends. Take a
commoner whose friends are all filial and fraternal, sincerely respectful
and in awe of commands from their superiors—[with

friends] like this, his household will daily increase and he will
always be comfortable. This is what I call a [common] man
destined for good luck. Take one serving a prince, whose friends
are all sincere and trustworthy, who conduct themselves properly
and love the good—[with friends] like this, his activities daily
flourish and he daily advances in office. (?) This is what I call
an official destined for good luck. Take[3] a ruler among whose court
ministers are many sages, and among whose attendants are many
loyal men, so that whenever the ruler neglects or mismanages
anything, all strive to correct and admonish him. [With supporters]
like these, his state is daily more peaceful, the ruler is
daily more respected, and his fame daily becomes more apparent.
This is what I call a ruler destined for good luck. I am not able
to physiognomize people; it is a matter of looking at their friends."

The king approved. [King Chuang's][4] employment of sages
and use of the able to establish his hegemony over the empire
was probably derived from this.[5]

The Ode says,[6]

13

Confucius went out for a stroll in the meadow of Shao-yüan.
There was a woman standing in the middle of a marsh and weeping
most bitterly. Confucius [thought it unusual and][1] sent his
disciples to make inquiries. They said, "Why do you weep so
bitterly?"

The woman replied,[2] "Just now I was cutting milfoil for firewood
when I lost my hairpin made of [a stalk of] milfoil. This
is why I was grieved."

The disciples said,[3] "To lose a milfoil hairpin when you are
cutting milfoil for firewood—how is that a cause for grief?"

The woman said, "It is not that I am unhappy at losing the
[value of the] pin; [what grieves me is that][4] I cannot forget the
associations I had with it."[5]

14[1]

Traditionally, when the superior man hears of the Way, he lets
it enter his ears and treasures it up in his heart. He illumines
it with jên and protects it with sincerity. He puts it into practice
according to i, and delivers it with complaisance. As a result
none listens to him but with a receptive mind.

When the mean man hears of the Way, he lets it enter his ears

and then ejects it through his mouth. It is simply a case of speech
put to a perverted use. It is comparable to eating to repletion
and then vomiting. Not only is that of no benefit to the body,
but this also impairs the mind.[2]

The Ode says,[3]

15[1]

Confucius was walking about on top of Mt. Jung with Tzŭ-kung,
Tzŭ-lu, and Yen Yüan. With a sigh Confucius said, "May each
of you, my disciples, express his ambition. I am going to examine
them. How about you, Yu?"

He replied, "[I would like] to get white plumes like the moon
and red plumes like the sun.[2] [The noise of] beaten gong and drum
would resound to the heavens above, and below . . . lances to
the earth.[3] Only I would be able to send an army to attack."

Confucius said, "A brave soldier! Tz`ŭ, how about you?"

He replied, "With plain gown and white silk cap[4] I would go
on my mission between the two states, and without holding a
weapon so much as a foot long, or so much as a shêng or a tou[5]
of grain, I would cause the two states to be intimate as brothers."

Confucius said, "A sophist! Hui, what about you?"

He replied, "Rotten fish are not kept in the same container
with the lan-ch`ih plant.[6] Chieh and Chou do not rule at the same
time as Yao and Shun. These two have spoken, so how can I
speak?"

7[OMITTED]. The text is defective. (CHy.) Chou suggests emending to [OMITTED]
[OMITTED] "Why do you speak so humbly?"

Confucius said, "Hui has a humble mind. . ." (?)

Yen Yüan said, "I would like to get to be minister to an
enlightened king or a saintly ruler. I would have no walls built
nor moats or ditches dug. Yin and yang would be [kept] in equilibrium.
[Every] family would have sufficient, [every] man would
have enough. I would melt down the weapons in storage to make
agricultural implements."

Confucius said, "A great officer! Yu might come confident,
but what attacks would you be making? Tz`ŭ might come loquacious,[8]
but what use would you have for him? I would like to have
an official's robe[9] and cap and be your steward."

16[1]

The sage does not suffer shame that he may eat, or endure
disgrace that he may succeed. Lao-tzŭ said,

Truly, he who has once known the contentment that comes simply
through being content, will never again be otherwise than contented.[10]

17[1]

Mencius' wife was alone and in a squatting position. Mencius
entered the door and saw her. He told his mother, "My wife has
no sense of propriety (li), and I would like to send her away."

His mother said, "How is that?"

"She was squatting."

His mother said, "How do you know?"

Mencius said, "I saw her myself."

His mother said, "Then it is you who have no sense of propriety,
not she. Do not the rules of propriety say, `When you are about
to enter a gate [you should ask who is there],[2] when you are going
to ascend the hall you must make a noise, and when you are going
to enter a door you must look down,[3] so that you do not take by
surprise a person who is unprepared? Now you went into a place
of retirement, entering the door without making a sound, so as

to catch sight of a person squatting. In this you acted improperly;
it is not your wife who was improper."

Thereupon Mencius took the blame on himself and did not dare
send his wife away. The Ode says,[4]

18[1]

Confucius left [the capital of] Wei by the east gate and met
Ku-pu Tzŭ-ch`ing.[2] He said, "My disciples, draw my chariot
aside. A man is coming who will undoubtedly [want to] physiognomize
me. Pay attention [to what he says]."

Ku-pu Tzŭ-ch`ing also said, "My disciples, draw my chariot
aside. A saint is coming." Confucius got down and walked. Ku-pu
Tzŭ-ch`ing came to meet him, and for fifty paces regarded him.
Then he followed him for fifty paces, looking at him. He turned
to Tzŭ-kung and said, "Who is this man?"

Tzŭ-kung said, "He is my teacher. His name is K`ung Ch`iu,
of Lu."

Ku-pu Tzŭ-ch`ing said, "So that is K`ung Ch`iu of Lu! I have
certainly heard of him."

Tzŭ-kung said, "How does my teacher impress you?"

Ku-pu Tzŭ-ch`ing said, "He has Yao's forehead and Shun's
eyes,[3] Yü's neck and Kao-yao's mouth.[4] Viewed from the front he
is complete as though he possessed territory.[5] Viewed from the

back, he has high shoulders and a weak back;[6] only in this is he
inferior to [those] saints." Tzŭ-kung sighed. Ku-pu Tzŭ-ching
said, "What are you worried about? For his unprepossessing
face[7] he is not hated, nor is he employed for his reed mouth[8] (?).
Viewed from afar he is uneasy[9] as the dog in a house of mourning.
What are you grieved about? What are you grieved about?"

Tzŭ-kung reported this to Confucius, who found nothing to
disclaim, excepting only [the part about] the dog in a house of
mourning. He said, "How should I dare?"

Tzŭ-kung said, " `For his unprepossessing face he is not hated,
nor is he employed for his reed mouth'; this I understand. I do
not understand why you should disclaim that about the dog in a
house of mourning."

The Master said, "Tz`ŭ, have you never seen the dog in a house
of mourning? After [the body] is put into the coffin, and that put
into the outer coffin, vessels are set out for the sacrifice.[10] Everywhere
[the dog] looks, no one is about, and he has the idea of
wanting to let himself go.[11] (?) Above there is no enlightened
king and below no sage overseers of provinces;[12] the Kingly Way
is declining, government and teaching are lost. The strong oppress
the weak and the many are cruel to the few. The people give rein
to their desires and no one can regulate them. That man certainly

took me as one who wishes to play that part.[13] How should I
dare?"

19[1]

Self-improvement is something about which one must be careful.
If desires are extravagant, conduct will be deficient. If slander
is indulged in, perfection will be impaired. Trouble is born from
anger, and disaster arises from trifles. Shame and disgrace are
hard to wash away; defeat and loss cannot be again made good.
If you do not think deeply and do not exercise far-sighted care,
what good will remorse be? Hoping for good luck is the axe that
cuts down a man's nature; desire is the horse that gallops after
disaster; boasting is the path that leads to disaster; slandering
others is the dwelling place of poverty. For this reason the superior
man expels false hopes of good luck,[2] regulates his desires, and
devotes himself to being sincere and trustworthy. He does not
slander anyone, and so his name is venerated and he is called a
superior man.

The Ode says,[3]

20

The way of living of the superior man is soft as comforting
furs,[1] as stable as an inverted cup.[2] When the empire has the True
Way, the feudal lords are in awe of him; when the empire is

without the True Way, the common people are comfortable in his
presence.[3] Not today only, but since antiquity it has been thus.
Of old when Fan Li went on his wanderings, he lived in a shambles
in Ch`i.[4] . . . (?) . . . Suddenly there is a supernatural transformation,[5]
jên and i are agitated,[6] vast and comprehensive, Heaven
and Earth share his grief. (?) Hence, how can the place where
the superior man dwells be static?

The Ode says,[7]

21[1]

T`ien Tzŭ-fang went to Wei, and the Heir Apparent of Wei met
him in the suburbs of the capital with an escort of a hundred
chariots. The Heir Apparent bowing twice, welcomed T`ien
Tzŭ-fang who did not ascend from his own chariot. The Heir
Apparent was displeased and said, "May I enquire how it is you
can treat another person arrogantly?"

T`ien Tzŭ-fang said, "I have heard that there have been those
who have made [possession of] the empire a pretext for being
arrogant toward others and who lost [the empire].[2] Viewed in
this light, a poor and humble person may be arrogant toward
others. If he does not get what he wants, he has only to put on

his shoes[3] and go to Ch`in or Ch`u. Where should he go that he
would not be able to be poor and humble?" Whereupon the Heir
Apparent bowed twice and withdrew to the rear. T`ien Tzŭ-fang
never did descend from his chariot.

22

Tai Chin-shêng, in a worn gown and cap, went to see the King
of Liang, who said, "Some time ago I invited you [to serve me]
with the salary of a Great Officer of upper rank, but you would
not stay. And now you have come to me?"

Tai Chin-shêng laughed merrily, then looking up with a long
sigh, he said, "Alas, from this I see that Your Highness has never
been worth associating with. Have you not seen the pheasant in
a large marsh?[1] Every five steps he pecks [at the ground], and
only at the end of the day is he full. His feathers are rich and
glossy,[2] glistening and shining under the sun and moon. He flaps
his wings and sings arrogantly, so that the sound echoes from
the hills and through the marsh. Why does he do so? Because
he enjoys what he wants. If you take him away and put him
inside a granary, so that he is constantly pecking up millet, he
will be full before the sun is up. But his feathers will be dull and
bedraggled, and his appetite and ch`i increasingly decline. He
hangs his head and does not sing. Is it possibly because his food
is not good? It is because he has not what he wants. Now when
I have not counted it far to come a thousand li[3] to be with Your

Highness, was it possibly because [otherwise] my food would have
been insufficient? It was simply because I ventured to admire
your principles. I used to think you were fond of gentlemen, and
without a peer in the empire. Now I clearly see that you are not
fond of gentlemen." Taking his leave he departed, and never
came back again.

23[1]

King Chuang of Ch`u sent a messanger to visit Master Pei-kuo[2]
and present him with a hundred chin[3] of gold. Master [Pei-kuo]
said, "I have a dustpan-and-broom servant, and I would like to go
in and consult with her." To his wife he said, "Ch`u wants me for
its minister. Should I be minister today, immediately I will have
horses harnessed four abreast and a mounted escort,[4] and food
spread before me over ten cubits square.[5] How about it?"

His wife said, "You, Master, gain your living by weaving straw
sandals. You eat gruel and have a small income[6] (?), but you are
without apprehensive worry. How is this if not from having
nothing to do with affairs? Now though you have horses harnessed
four abreast and a mounted escort,[7] still the place you occupy is
only [the room] taken up by your knees; and though you may
have food spread out before you over ten cubits square, the only
dish you would enjoy especially would be meat.[8] For the comfort
of room for your knees and the flavor of a meat dish is it right to
take on the worries of the state of Ch`u regardless of your own
safety?"

As a result he did not reply to the offer, but went away with his
wife. The Ode says,[9]

24[1]

There is a tradition that of old the Jung barbarians sent Yu-yü
on a mission to Ch`in. Duke Mu of Ch`in asked him concerning
the essentials of success and failure [in a state]. He replied, "Those
who held their states in ancient times without exception did it
through respect and economy. Those who lost their states did so
through arrogance and extravagance." Yu-yü continued with a
discussion of the causes of the decline of the Five Emperors and
the Three Kings[2] and ended up with the conditions that resulted
in the perishing of the common people.[3] (?) Duke Mu agreed
with what he said. Afterwards he reported to the Nei-shih, Wang
Mu,[4] "The existence in a neighboring state of a sage is the worry
of its opponents. Yu-yü is a sage. What are we to do?"

Wang Mu said, "The king of the Jung lives in a rustic, out-ofthe-way
place and has never experienced the sounds and sights of
the Middle Kingdom. Let Your Highness present him with female
musicians to deprave his mind and throw his government into
confusion. His subjects will certainly be alienated. To this end,
ask on Yu-yü's behalf to postpone the date [of his return], so that
separation between prince and minister may be effected. After
that we can put our schemes into practice."

Duke Mu approved and had Wang Mu send two troupes of
female musicians to the king of the Jung and ask on behalf of
Yu-yü that the period [of his visit be prolonged]. The King of
the Jung was delighted and granted the request. Whereupon he
set out wine and listened to music, not resting day or night. By

the end of the year he was dissolute and abandoned. Many of his
men and horses died.[5] When Yu-yü came back he remonstrated
in vain several times and then left for Ch`in. Duke Mu of Ch`in
met him and conferred on him [the post of] prime minister. As
a result [Ch`in] annexed twelve states and opened up a thousand
li of territory.

6The other texts have [OMITTED] for [OMITTED]; Chou has emended from SY.

25

Tzŭ-hsia went to see[1] Tsêng-tzŭ, who said, "Come in and eat."[2]

Tzŭ-hsia said, "Is it not putting you to [unnecessary] expense?"

Tsêng-tzŭ said, "The superior man has three [unnecessary]
expenditures, but food and drink are not among them. The
superior man has three joys,[3] but gongs and sonorous stones, lute
and cither are not among them."

Tzŭ-hsia said, "I venture to ask about the three joys."

Tsêng-tzŭ said, "Having parents to stand in awe of, a prince
to serve, and a son to leave behind—this is the first joy. Having
parents to remonstrate with, a prince to leave, and a son to be
angry with—this is the second joy. Having a prince to make
things clear to, and friends to help—this is the third joy."

Tzŭ-hsia said, "I venture to ask about the three expenditures."

Tsêng-tzŭ said, "To study when young and forget when adult
—this is the first expenditure. To serve one's prince with merit
and be lightly repudiated—this is the second expenditure. For a
long time to have friendly relations and then to break them off
suddenly[4] —this is the third expenditure."

Tzŭ-hsia said, "Excellent! Carefully to emulate one [wise]
saying is better than continually reciting it,[5] and to serve one

gentleman (?) is better than the merit of governing all the people[6]
—this is something a man must know. I once let my fields go to
grass (?) and for a whole year I got no harvest.[7] When this is
true of all land, how much the more it is so of men! If you are
sincere with men, though they be far away, they will be intimate,
and if you are false with them, even close associates will be
alienated. Meeting sincerity with sincerity is like glue, is like
lacquer. Meeting falseness with falseness is like thin ice exposed
to the noonday sun. Can the superior man do anything but bear
this in mind?"

The Ode says,[8]

26[1]

Yen-tzŭ's wife sent on an errand a man dressed in cotton cloth
with hempen border. T`ien Wu-yü criticised him saying, "Who
is that fellow who [just] came out of the house?"

Yen-tzŭ said, "He is a household servant."

T`ien Wu-yü said, "With the position of chung-ch`ing and
sustenance fields [to the number of] seven hundred thousand, why
do you keep such a person in your employ?"

Yen-tzŭ said, "To discharge the old and choose the young is
termed blindness. When rich to forget the poor is termed disorder.
To be carried away by the sight of physical beauty is termed
perversity. How should I take the way of perversity, disorder,
and blindness?"

27

When first the phoenix rises, the sparrow[1] capable only of
fluttering along for ten paces chirrups his laughter; but when [the
phoenix] has mounted on high,[2] one curve, one straightening,[3] and
he soars among the clouds.[4] The sparrow on the bamboo fence[5]
in despair realizes himself unable to get so far. The gentleman
clad in coarse cloth and wearing hemp-quilted garments, of which
he never possessed a sufficiency, and subsisting on coarse grain
and vegetables, of which he has never eaten his fill,[6] is considered
by the common man merely to be in a shameful condition. But
when he comes out [of retirement], he settles the hundred discussions;
when he is employed, he prolongs the life of the people;
and the common man in despair realizes himself unable to get so
far.

The Ode says,[7]

28

The king of Ch`i offered his daughter with a rich dowry in
marriage to Butcher T`u.[1] Butcher T`u declined on the pretext of
illness. His friend said,[2] "You will just be in a stinking shop to
the end of your life. Why did you refuse him?"

T`u answered, "His daughter is ugly."

His friend said, "How do you know?"

T`u said, "From my butchery I know it."

His friend said, "What do you mean?"

T`u said, "When my meat is good I can dispose of it [by weight]
and regret only that there is too little.[3] When my meat is not
good, even though I add on more meat[4] to increase [the weight],
I still cannot sell it. Now if he offers his daughter with a rich
dowry, it is simply because she is ugly." Later on his friend saw
her, and she really was ugly. As the saying has it,

29

There is a tradition that Confucius went to see K`ang-tzŭ
with Tzŭ-chang and Tzŭ-hsia following. Confucius went in and
sat down, while the two disciples got into a discussion that was
[still] not settled by the end of the day. Tzŭ-hsia's speech and
expression[1] (ch`i) were choked to a degree and his countenance
was greatly altered. Tzŭ-chang said, "You have surely heard
our Master in a discussion? He speaks slowly and gently, and
deports himself gravely and respectfully. He speaks after first
being silent. When he makes a point, he pushes [the other] forward
and makes way for him. Majestic and vast, his is a Way to turn
to. The mean man, in discussions, is jealous of his own ideas and
insists he is in the right. He declares the other to be wrong, and,
his eyes glaring with anger, he seizes his wrist and spurts out [a
stream of] rapid words. His mouth froths, his eyes are inflamed.
Once he has the good luck to come out ahead in the argument,
he bursts out with a hee! hee! of laughter. In gravity and deportment
he is vulgar; his speech and expression2 are low. That is
why the superior man despises him."