University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XI.

Wrong Notions about Happiness (Fu-hsü).

People universally believe that he who does good, meets with
happiness, and that the evil-doers are visited with misfortune. That
Heaven sends down happiness or misfortune in response to man's
doings. That the rewards graciously given by the sovereigns to
the virtuous, are visible, whereas the requital of Heaven and Earth
is not always apparent. There is nobody, high or low, clever or
imbecile, who would disagree with this view. Only because people
see such deeds recorded in books, and witness that sometimes the
good really become happy, they come to believe this, and take it
as self-evident. Sometimes also sages and wise men, with a view
to inducing people to do good, do not hesitate to assert that it must
be so, thus showing that virtue gets its reward. Or those who
hold this view, have themselves experienced that felicity arrived
at a certain juncture. A thorough investigation, however, will convince
us that happiness is not given by Heaven as a favour.

King Hui of Ch`u,[1] when eating salad, found a leech upon
his plate, and forthwith swallowed it. He thereupon felt a pain in
his stomach, and could eat nothing. On his premier asking him,
how he had got this disease, he replied:—"Eating salad, I found
a leech. I thought that, if I scolded those responsible for it, but
did not punish them, I would disregard the law, and not keep up
my dignity. Therefore, I could not allow my subjects to get wind
of the matter. Had I, on the other hand, reproved and chastised
the defaulters, strict law would have required the death of all the
cooks and butlers. To that I could not make up my mind. Fearing,
lest my attendants should perceive the leech, I promptly swallowed
it."

The premier rose from his seat, bowed twice, and congratulated
the king, saying, "I have been told that Heaven is impartial, and
that virtue alone is of any avail. You have benevolence and virtue,
for which Heaven will reward you. Your sickness will do you no
great harm."

The same evening, when the king withdrew, the leech came
out, and an ailment of the heart and stomach of which he had
been suffering for a long while, was cured at the same time. Could
not this be considered an evidence of Heaven's partiality for
virtue?—No. This is idle talk.

If King Hui swallowed the leech, he was far from being what
a sovereign should be, and for unbecoming deeds Heaven does not
give marks of its favour. King Hui could not bear to reproach
the guilty with the leech for fear, lest his cooks and butlers should
all have to suffer death according to law. A ruler of a State can
mete out rewards and punishments at pleasure, and pardoning is
a prerogative of his. Had King Hui reprimanded all for the leech
found in his salad, the cooks and butlers would have had to submit
to law, but afterwards the king was at liberty not to allow that
the lives of men were taken merely for a culinary offence. Thus
to forgive, and to remit the penalty, would have been an act of
great mercy. If the cooks had received their punishment, but were
not put to death, they would have completely changed for the
future. The king condoning a small offence, and sparing the lives
of the poor devils, would have felt all right, and not been sick.
But he did nothing of that sort. He ate perforce something
obnoxious to his health. Allowing his butlers to remain ignorant
of their fault, he lost his royal dignity, because he did
not repress their bad conduct. This was objectionable in the
first place.

If cooks and butlers in preparing a dish do not make it
sweet or sour enough, or if an atom of dust no bigger than a
louse, hardly perceptible or visible to the eye, falls into the salad,
if in such a case a sovereign in fixing a penalty takes into consideration
the mind of the offender, and therefore abstains from
divulging his fault, one may well speak of clemency. Now, a leech
is an inch or more long and 1/10 of an inch or more broad. In a
salad a one-eyed man must see it. The servants of the king
showed an utter want of respect, taking no care to cleanse the
salad. Theirs was a most serious offence. For King Hui not to
reprimand them was a second mistake.

In a salad there must be no leech. If so, one does not eat
it, but throws it to the ground. Provided one is anxious, lest the
attendants should discover it, he may hide it in his bosom. Thus
the leech can escape observation. Why must one eat it coûte-quecoûte?
If something uneatable is by inadvertence in a salad so,
that it can be concealed, to eat it by force is a third mistake.

If Heaven had rewarded an unbecoming act, an unworthy
person would have been the recipient of Heaven's grace. The inability
to reprove for the sake of a leech is, in the eyes of the
world, something very excellent. Now, there is many an excellent
man, whose deeds are similar to the swallowing of a leech. If for
swallowing a leech Heaven grants liberation from sickness, excellent
men must always be without ailings. The virtue of this kind of
men is, however, small only and not to be compared with the
perfect character of the true sages and their guileless demeanour.
There are many sages who would push their kindness of heart
so far as to put up with human faults. Yet the Emperor Wu Wang
was of a weak health, and Confucius seriously ill. Why has Heaven
been so inconsistent in the distribution of its favour?

It may be that after King Hui had swallowed the leech, it
came out again in a natural way of itself. Whenever anybody
eats a living thing, it will inevitably die. The stomach is hot
inside. When the leech is gulped down, it does not die instantaneously,
but owing to the high temperature of the stomach
it begins to move. Hence the pain in the stomach. After
a short while, the leech dies, and the pain in the stomach
ceases also.

It is in the nature of leeches to suck blood. King Hui's heart
and bowel complaint was probably nothing but a constipation of
blood. Therefore this constipation was cured along with the death
of the blood-sucking animal, just as a men suffering from the skin
disease known as "rat" can be cured by eating a cat, because it
is natural to cats to eat rats. The various things overcome one
another. Remedies and antidotes are given on the same principal.
Therefore it cannot be a matter for surprise that by eating a leech
a disease should be removed. Living things, when eaten, will
die. Dead, they invariably come out in a natural way. Consequently,
the re-appearance of the leech cannot be an act of
special grace.

The premier seeing the kindheartedness of King Hui and
knowing that the leech after entering the stomach must come forth
again, when dead, therefore bowed twice, and congratulated the
king upon his not being injured by his disease. He thereby showed
his power of forethought, and pleased his sovereign. His utterance
is in the same style as that of Tse Wei,[2] who said that a star

would shift its place,[3] and of the "Great Diviner,"[4] who asserted
that the earth was going to move.

A family in Sung had for three generations never swerved
from the path of virtue. Without any apparent reason a black
cow belonging to this family dropped a white calf. Confucius was
asked, and said that it was a lucky omen, and that the calf ought
to be sacrificed to the spirits, which was done accordingly. After
one year, the father of the family became blind without a reason.
The cow then produced a white calf a second time. The father
sent his son to ask Confucius, who replied that it was a propitious
portent, and that the animal must be immolated, which was done
again. After a year, the son lost his eye-sight, nobody knew why.
Subsequently, Ch`u attacked Sung, and besieged its capital. At that
time the besieged were in such a distress, that they exchanged
their sons, and ate them, breaking their bones, which they used
as firewood.[5] It was but for their blindness that father and son
were not called upon to mount guard on the city wall. When
the enemy's army raised the siege, father and son could see again.
This is believed to be a proof of how the spirits requited great
deserts, but it is idle talk:—

If father and son of that family in Sung did so much good,
that the spirits rewarded them, why must they first make them
blind, and afterwards restore their sight? Could they not protect
them, if they had not been blind and always seeing? Being unable
to help men, if not blind, the spirits would also be powerless to
protect the blind.

Had the two commanders of Sung and Ch`u made such a
furious onslaught, that the weapons were blunted, the dead bodies
covered with blood, the warriors captivated, or killed never to
come back, then blindness might have afforded an excuse for not
going to the front, and that might have been construed as a divine
protection. But before the armies of Sung and Ch`u came to blows,
Hua Yuan and Tse Fan[6] made a covenant, and went back. The
two forces returned home unscathed, and the blades of the swords,
and the points of the arrows were not blunted by use. The duty

of mounting the city wall did not entail death, consequently the
two good men could not have obtained the divine protection, while
this duty was being performed. In case they had not been blind
at that time, they would not have died either. The blind and
the not blind all got off. What benefit did those good men derive
then from their blindness, for which the spirits were responsible?[7]

Were the families of the blind alone well off, when the State
of Sung was short of provisions? All had to exchange their sons
with the families which mounted guard on the wall, and they
split their bones. If in such straits such good people alone were
still blind and unable to see, the spirits in giving their aid have
failed to discriminate justly between the good and the wicked.

Father and son had probably been blinded by exposure to
cold wind, a mere chance. When the siege was over, they owed
their cure to chance also. The world knowing that they had done
good works, that they had offered two white calves in sacrifice,
that during the war between Sung and Ch`u they alone had not
mounted the wall, and that after the siege they regained their
sight, thought this to be the recompense of virtue, and the protection
granted by the spirits.

When the minister of Ch`u, Sun Shu Ao[8] was a boy, he
beheld a two-headed snake, which he killed and buried. He then
went home, and cried before his mother. She asked him, what
was the matter. He replied:—"I have heard say that he who
sees a two-headed snake must die. Now, when I went out, I saw
a two-headed snake. I am afraid that I must leave you and die,
hence my tears." Upon his mother inquiring, where the snake
was now, he rejoined:—"For fear lest others should see it later,
I have killed it outright, and buried it."

The mother said:—"I have heard that Heaven will recompense
hidden virtue. You are certainly not going to die, for Heaven
must reward you." And, in fact, Sun Shu Ao did not die, but, later
on, became prime minister of Ch`u. For interring one snake he
received two favours. This makes it clear that Heaven rewards
good actions.

No, it is idle talk. That he who sees a two-headed snake,
must die, is a common superstition, and that Heaven gives happiness
as a reward for hidden virtue, a common prejudice. Sun Shu Ao,
convinced of the superstition, buried the snake, and his mother,
addicted to the prejudice, firmly relied on the heavenly retaliation.
This would amount to nothing else than that life and death were
not depending on fate, but on the death of a snake.

T`ien Wên[9] of Ch`i, Prince of Mêng Ch`ang, was born on the
5th day of the 5th moon.[10] His father T`ien Ying expostulated with
his mother saying, why do you rear him? She replied:—"Why
do you not wish to rear a fifth month child?" T`ien Ying said:—
"A fifth month son will become as high as a door, and kill both
his father and mother." She rejoined:—"Does the human fate
depend on Heaven or on doors? If on Heaven, you have nothing
to complain of, if on a door, he must become as high as a door.
Who ever attained to that?"[11]

Later on, T`ien Wên grew as high as a door, but T`ien Ying
did not die. Thus the apprehension to rear a child in the fifth
month proved unfounded. The disgust at the sight of a two-headed
snake is like the repugnance to rear a child of the fifth
month. Since the father of such a child did not die, it follows
that a two-headed snake cannot bring misfortune either.

From this point of view, he who sees a two-headed snake,
does not die, as a matter of course, but not on account of having
buried a snake. If for interring one snake one receives two favours,
how many must one obtain for ten snakes? Sun Shu Ao by
burying a snake, lest other persons should look at it, showed an
excellent character. The works of excellent men do not merely
consist in burying snakes. Sun Shu Ao may have accomplished
many other meritorious acts, before he buried the snake. Endowed
with a good nature by Heaven, people do good under all circumstances.
Such well deserving persons ought to see propitious
things, instead of that he unexpectedly falls in with a snake that
kills man. Was perhaps Sun Shu Ao a wicked man, before he
beheld the snake, and did Heaven intend to kill him, but condoned
his guilt, and spared his life upon seeing him burying the snake?

A stone is hard from the time of its formation, a fragrant
flower has its perfume from the time, when it came out. If it be
said that Sun Shu Ao's virtue became manifest, when he buried
the snake, then he would not have received it from Heaven at
his birth.

The Confucianist Tung Wu Hsin and the Mêhist Ch`an Tse[12]
met, and spoke about Tao. Ch`an Tse extolled the Mêhist theory
of the help of the spirits,[13] and as an instance adduced duke Mu
of Ch in. His excellent qualities were so brilliant that God granted
him an age of ninety years.[14]

Ch`an Tse gets into trouble with Yao and Shun, who were not
favoured with a long life, and Chieh and Chou, who did not die
young. Yao, Shun, Chieh, and Chou belong to remote antiquity, but
in modern times likewise duke Mu of Ch`in[15] and duke Wên of Chin[16]
are difficult to account for.

The posthumous name expresses man's actions. What he
has done during his life-time, appears in his posthumous title.
Mu is an expression for error and disorder,[17] Wên means virtue
and goodness. Did Heaven reward error and disorder with
long years, and take the life of him who practised virtue and
benevolence?

The reign of Duke Mu did not surpass that of Duke Wên of
Chin, and the latter's posthumous title was better than that of
Duke Mu. But Heaven did not extend Wên of Chin's life, he
only granted longer years to Duke Mu.[18] Thus the retribution

of Heaven would appear as capricious and perverse as Duke Mu
himself was.

Under heaven the good men are few, and the bad ones many.
The good follow right principles, the bad infringe Heaven's commands.
Yet the lives of bad men are not short therefore, nor the
years of the good ones prolonged. How is it that Heaven does
not arrange that the virtuous always enjoy a life of a hundred
years, and that the wicked die young, or through their guilt?