University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XVII.

Fictitious Influences (Kan-hsü).

In the books of the Literati which have come down to us
they say that at the time of Yao ten suns rose simultaneously, so
that everything was scorched up. Yao shot at the ten suns on
high, whereupon nine out of them were removed, and a single one
began to rise regularly.[756] This is a myth.

When a man is shooting with arrows, at a distance of no
more than a hundred steps, the arrows lose their force. As regards
the course of the sun, it moves upon heaven like a star. The
interstice between heaven and man measures several ten thousand
Li,[757] and if Yao had shot at it, how could he have hit the sun?
Provided that, at Yao's time, the distance from heaven to earth had
not been upwards of a hundred steps, then the arrows of Yao
might have just reached the sun, but they could not go farther
than a hundred steps. Under the supposition of the short distance
of heaven and earth at the time of Yao, his shots might have
touched the suns, but without damaging them, and why should
the suns have disappeared, if they had been damaged?

The sun is fire. If fire on earth is employed to kindle a
torch, and if the by-standers shot at it, would they extinguish it,
even if they hit it? Earthly fire is not to be extinguished by
arrow-shots, how could heavenly fire be put out in this manner?

This is meant to imply that Yao shot at the suns with his
spiritual essence.[758] Whatever is touched by it, even metal and
stones, crumbles to pieces, for it knows no hardness nor distance.
Now, water and fire have a similar nature. If fire could be extinguished
with arrows, it ought to be possible to remove water
by shooting at it likewise.

At the time of the Great Flood, China was inundated by
the waters causing great damage to the people. Why did Yao not
put forth his spiritual essence then, removing the waters by shooting?

He was able to shoot at the suns, preventing their fire from doing
injury, but he could not shoot at the Yellow River, to hinder the
ravages of its floods. Since the water could not be removed by
shooting, we know that the story about shooting at the suns is
an invention and unreliable.

Some hold that the sun is a fluid and that, although an arrow
may not reach it, the spiritual essence can extinguish it. Now
Heaven is also far off; in case it is a fluid, it must be similar to
the sun and the moon, and should it be corporeal,[759] it would be
on a level with metals and stones. If the essence of Yao extinguished
the suns and destroyed metals and stones, could he also perforate
Heaven, while sending his arrows?

As an example of the perversity of Chieh and Chou people
relate that they shot at Heaven and lashed Earth, and in praise
of Kao Tsung they narrate that, by his virtuous government, he did
away with the mulberry and the paper-mulberry.[760] Now if Yao,
incapable of extinguishing the ten suns by his virtue, shot at them
nevertheless, his virtue did not equal that of Kao Tsung, and his
depravity could match that of Chieh and Chou. How could he
have obtained a response from Heaven by his essence?

It is on record that [when Wu Wang, on his expedition against
Chou, crossed the Mêng ford,[761] the waves of Yang-hou[762] rushed against
him. A storm was raging, and there was such a darkness, that
men and horses became invisible. Upon this, King Wu, grasping
the yellow halberd with his left and holding the white standard
in his right, with flashing eyes waved it and exclaimed, "While
I am in the empire, who dares thwart my plans?", whereupon
the storm abated, and the waves subsided.] This narrative is
preposterous.[763]

When Wu Wang was crossing the Mêng ford, the hosts of his
army were cheerful and merry, singing in front and gamboling in
the rear. There being a certain sympathy between Heaven and

man, it would not have been the proper thing for Heaven to
grumble, when man was pleased, but it is not sure whether there
was really singing in front and dancing in the rear, and the
stopping of the storm by waving a flag likewise looks like an
invention.

Wind is air, and some speculative minds see in it the commanding
voice of Heaven and Earth. Now, provided that the
punishment of Chou by Wu Wang was right, then Heaven should
have kept quiet and rewarded him; if, however, his destruction
was not right, then the storm was expressive of Heaven's anger.

Had Wu Wang not received the command of Heaven and not
inquired into his own guilt, then, by saying, with flashing eyes.
"While I am in the empire, who ventures to thwart me?" he
could not but double Heaven's anger and increase his own depravity;
how would the wind have stopped therefore? When parents are
angry with their son for not mending his faults, would they be
willing to pardon him, if, with flashing eyes, he talked big?

In case wind is the fluid of misfortune produced by Heaven,
it must be spontaneous as well as unconscious, and angry looks
or waving flags would not cause it to stop. Wind is like rain.
If Wu Wang with flashing eyes had waved his standard to the rain,
would it have ceased? Since Wu Wang could not stop the rain,
he could not stop the wind either. Perhaps just at the moment,
when he waved his flag, accidentally the wind stopped of itself,
and the people, extolling his excellence, then contended that Wu
Wang could stop the wind.

There is a report that, [when Duke Hsiang of Lu was at war
with Han, and the battle was hottest, the sun went down. The
duke, swinging his spear, beckoned to it, when the sun came back
for him, passing through three solar mansions.][764] This is an invention.

Whoever can affect Heaven through his spiritual essence, must
be single-minded and engrossed with one idea. Discharging all
other affairs from his thoughts and concentrating his mind, he may
communicate with Heaven by means of his spiritual essence, and
Heaven may then exhibit some extraordinary phenomenon, though
I do not admit even this. Duke Hsiang's interest was entirely absorbed
by the battle, when the sun sank, and he beckoned to it.
How could he induce it to revert? If a sage would beckon to the

sun, it would not return by any means; who was Duke Hsiang,
that he could cause it to come back?

The Hung-fan[765] has it that [some stars are fond of wind and
others of rain. The course of the sun and moon brings about
winter and summer, and when the moon follows the stars, there
is wind and rain].[766] Now the stars are of the same stuff as the
sun and the moon. When the latter follow the stars, these change
again,[767] and it is evident that, as long as the two luminaries keep
their regular course, they do not yield to the likes and dislikes of
the stars. How then should it be possible that the desire of
Duke Hsiang was fulfilled?

The stars on Heaven are the mansions of the sun and the
moon, as on earth the postal stations serve as residences of the
higher officials. These 28 solar mansions[768] are divided into degrees,
one mansion measuring 10 degrees, more or less. The allegation
that the sun returned through three mansions would therefore
denote 30 degrees. The sun proceeds one degree every day, at
the moment of beckoning it would therefore have gone back the
same distance which it had made during 30 days. If we regard a
shê (station) as one degree,[769] then three degrees would be a three
days course, and at the moment, when the spear was waved, the
sun would have been made to revert three days.

When Duke Ching of Sung exhibited his sincerity and uttered
three excellent maxims, the planet Mars passed through three solar
mansions, a story which sober-minded critics still call an invention.[770]
Duke Hsiang, during the fighting, was displeased with the sun's
setting, accordingly he waved his spear, but he had no earnest
purpose,[771] nor did he say any excellent words.[772] That the sun
should revert for his sake, was most likely not his idea.

Moreover, the sun is fire. A sage giving a signal to fire
would in no wise be able to make it return, and Duke Hsiang
should have caused the sun to revert by his signal?

While the battle was going on, the sun was in the middle
of mao,[773] and, bewildered by the fighting, the duke fancied that the
sun was setting.[774] Waving his flag, he turned round to the left,
describing a curve, and was under the impression that the sun
was reverting. People naturally fond of the marvellous then spoke
of the sun's reverting, which cannot be upheld in earnest.

It is related in historical works that, when, at the instance
of the heir-prince of Yen, Ching K`o attempted to murder the king
of Ch`in, a white halo encircled the sun, and that, [while the
master from Wei was devising the plan of the Ch`ang-p`ing affair
for Ch`in, Venus eclipsed the Pleiades].[775] This means to say that
the spiritual essence affected Heaven, so that it produced those
phenomena. To say that a white halo surrounded the sun, and
that Venus eclipsed the Pleiades is allowable, but the assertion that
the design of Ching K`o and the plan of the master from Wei
exercised such an influence upon august Heaven, that a white halo
encircled the sun and Venus eclipsed the Pleiades, is erroneous.

Striking a bell with chopsticks and beating a drum with
counting-slips, one cannot bring them to sound, because the sticks
used to beat them are too small. Now, the human body does not
measure more than seven feet, and with the spirit within these
seven feet one hopes to bring about something. The energy may
be concentrated ever so much, it is still like striking a bell with
chopsticks or beating a drum with counting-slips; how can it
move Heaven? The mind may be quite in earnest, but the implements
employed to cause a motion are insufficient.

The intention to injure being directed against men, these are
not affected by it, and Heaven should be? Man's evil designs
should be able to operate on Heaven? No, that is impossible.

When Yü Jang was about to kill the viscount Hsiang of Chao,
Hsiang's heart palpitated, and when Kuan Kao was planning his
rebellion against Han Kao Tsu, the heart of the latter felt an
emotion likewise.[776] The two men thus harbouring their designs,
the two lords became agitated.

I reply that, when a calamitous change is at hand, strange
signs spontaneously appear about the persons threatened, and are

not their own work. My reason is this:—Sometimes we meet
lunatics on the road who with a weapon hurt themselves, without
having the intention to injure their own bodies, but, before this,
their bodies have already been conspicuous by miraculous signs.
From this I infer that miracles are symptoms of calamitous changes
and spontaneous disasters, and not the result of suicidal designs.

Furthermore an unlucky man dividing by shells, will receive
a bad omen, and appealing to straws, he will fall in with an unpropitious
diagram. Going out, he sees inauspicious things. His
forecasts point to dangers, and he beholds a calamitous fluid, which
shows itself in the face, as the white halo and Venus appear in
heaven. Phenomenal changes appear in heaven, whereas prognostics
become visible in man. Above and below are in accord and
spontaneously respond to one another.

It has been chronicled that, when Tan, the heir-prince of Yen,
paid a call at the court of Ch`in, he was not allowed to go home
again. He asked of the king of Ch`in permission to return, but
the king detained him and said with an oath, "In case the sun
reverts to the meridian, Heaven rains grain, crows get white heads
and horses horns, and the wooden elephants on the kitchen door
get legs of flesh, then you may return." — At that time Heaven
and Earth conferred upon him their special favour:—the sun returned
to the meridian, Heaven rained grain, the crows got white
crowns and the horses horns, and the legs of the wooden elephants
on the kitchen door grew fleshy. The king of Ch`in took him
for a Sage and let him off.[777] — This narrative is fictitious.

Who was this prince of Yen, Tan, that he could thus influence
Heaven? Sages imprisoned have not been able to move
Heaven. Prince Tan was but a worthy, how could he have carried
this out? If Heaven favoured him and produced all those wonders
with a view to his deliverance, it might as well have appeased
the feelings of the king of Ch`in, in order to remove all the prince's
hardships. His captivity was one matter only and easy to deal
with, whereas the miracles were five rather difficult things. Why
did Heaven omit the easy matter and do the five difficult things?
Did it not fear the trouble?

T`ang was confined in Hsia-t`ai and Wên Wang in Yu-li,[778] and
Confucius was in great straits between Ch`ên and T`sai. During the

captivity of the three Sages, Heaven could not help them, causing
their tormentors to see the blessings sent down upon them, understand
their sagehood, and dismiss them with high honours.

Some one may object that those three Sages bear no relation
to the three oaths. Their hearts were desireless, consequently there
was no reason for the manifestation of omens of celestial protection.
Heaven helps man, as one lends a utensil to somebody:—unless
he asks for it, one does not give it.

I reply that, when the heir-prince was desiring that Heaven
might send an omen, no words were spoken, it being merely the
wish of his heart. When T`ang was imprisoned in Hsia-t`ai, and
Wên Wang detained in Yu-li, their hearts were likewise yearning
for a release, and Confucius, distressed between Ch`ên and T`sai, was
craving after food. Wherefore did Heaven not let the locks of
the gates in Hsia-t`ai and Yu-li be spoiled, that T`ang and Wên Wang
could make their escape, or rain grain in Ch`ên and T`sai for Confucius,
to appease his appetite?

The Grand Annalist remarks, "People say of prince Tan that
he induced Heaven to rain grain and make the horses grow horns.
All this is most likely idle talk."[779] The Grand Annalist is a man
who writes the truth about the Han time. His expression "idle
talk" is all but synonymous with untrue.

We learn from historical books that the wife of Ch`i Liang
cried, turned towards the city wall, which collapsed in consequence.
This intimates that on Ch`i Liang not returning from a military
expedition, his wife, in her despair, cried in the direction of the
city-wall, and so heart-felt were her sorrow and her laments, that
her feeling affected the wall, which tumbled down in consequence.[780]
That the woman cried, turned towards the wall, may be true, but
the subsequent collapse of the city-wall is an invention.

There has never been a man whose tears and cries were more
pathetic than those of Yung Mên Tse. When he cried in the presence

of Mêng Ch`ang Chün,[781] the latter choked with emotion.[782] By the
sincerity of grief those present are moved to sympathy. Now,
Yung Mên Tse could touch the heart of Mêng Ch`ang Chün, but not
affect his dress, for garments are insensible of pity and proof against
human feelings. The city-wall is of earth, and earth, like cloth.
Being devoid of a heart and intestines, how could it be moved by
sobs and tears and fall down? Should the sounds of genuine grief
be apt to affect the earth of a wall, then complaints uttered among
the trees of a forest, would tear the plants and break the trunks.

If somebody should weep, when turned towards a water or a
fire, would the water boil up, or the fire go out? Plants, trees,
water, and fire do not differ from earth, it is plain therefore that
the wife of Ch`i Liang could not be answerable for the délabrement
of the wall.

Perhaps the wall was just going to tumble down of itself,
when the wife of Ch`i Liang happened to cry below. The world
is partial to fictions and does not investigate the true cause of
things, consequently this story of the down-fall of the city-wall
has, up till now, not faded from memory.

The histories record that Tsou Yen was confined in Yen, though
he was innocent. In the fifth month of summer he looked up to
Heaven, heaving a sigh, whereupon Heaven sent down a shower
of hoar-frost.[783] This is on a level with the wife of Ch`i Liang's
subverting a city-wall by her wails. The statement that he was
kept in jail without any guilt, and that in summer he sighed, looking
up to Heaven, is true, but the assertion as to Heaven raining frost,
a mere invention.

Ten thousand persons raising their voices and emitting their
moans and sighs simultaneously still fail to touch Heaven, how
then could Tsou Yen, one single individual, by his passionate sighs
over his ill-treatment call the hoar-frost down? His wrongs were
not worse than those of Tsêng Tse and Po Ch`i. Têng Tse being
suspected, hummed,[784] and Po Ch`i, on being banished, sang. Suspicion

and imprisonment are alike,[785] and humming and singing are similar
to sighing. Tsêng Tse and Po Ch`i were unable to attract cold; who
was Tsou Yen, that he alone could make the frost fall?

Banishment is perhaps not yet sufficiently painful to be taken
into consideration, but Shên Shêng[786] fell upon his sword, and Wu Tse
Hsü had to cut his own throat.[787] The one being exceedingly dutiful
to his father, was doomed to die, and the other, the most loyal
subject, had to suffer capital punishment. When they were near
their end, they doubtless made complaints, and these complaints
are nothing else than the sighs of Tsou Yen towards Heaven. If
Heaven felt no sympathy for these two men, being moved only
by Tsou Yen, his captivity must have given it great pain, whereas
it did not commiserate the blood-shed. The innocent suffering of
Po Ch`i was of the same sort, but it had not the same effect on
Heaven.

Provided you light a candle and try to heat a cauldron full
of water with it, then, after a whole day, it will not yet be hot.
Or take a lump of ice, a foot thick, and place it into the kitchen:—
after a whole night the room will not yet have become cooled.
The reason is that small and tiny things cannot affect big and huge
ones. Now the sighs of Tsou Yen were but like a candle or a lump
of ice, and the grandeur of majestic Heaven is not merely on a par
with that of a water kettle or a kitchen.

How easy is it to move Heaven, and how easily does hoarfrost
descend, if a sigh towards Heaven suffices to cause a fall of
frost! Pain is to be compared with pleasure, and joy is the counterpart
of anger. Provided that, by the expression of his sorrow,
Tsou Yen prompted Heaven to send frost down, would he be able
to make Heaven warm in winter time, if, on receiving an unexpected
kindness, he laughed to it?

The phenomenalists contend that, when a ruler rewards in
autumn, the weather becomes warm, and, when he punishes in
summer, it turns cold. But unless coldness is joined with the
proper season, frost does not descend, and unless warmth comes
together with the proper days, ice does not melt. How easy would
be the change of temperature and how facile a revolution of the

seasons, if, upon one man in his distress giving one sigh, Heaven
did at once send frost. Heat and cold have their natural periods,
which does not agree with the view of the phenomenalists.

If we argue on their lines, perhaps the king of Yen enjoyed
inflicting punishments, consequently cold weather had to set in.
Then Tsou Yen sighed in jail, and at that very moment hoar-frost
chanced to come down of itself. But the people remarking that
frost just happened to fall, when he sighed, took it for the effect
of Tsou Yen's sighing.

Historical works report that, when the music-master K`uang
played the air "White snow," wonderful creatures descended, and
a storm with rain broke loose. Duke P`ing began to pine away
henceforward, and the Chin State became parched up and barren.
Another version is that, when K`uang first played a tune in A major,
clouds rose in the north-west. When he played again, a tempest
came, accompanied by torrents of rain. The tents were rent to
pieces, the plates and dishes smashed, and the tiles of the verandah
hurled down. The guests fled in all directions, and Duke P`ing
was so frightened, that he fell down under the porches. The Chin
State was then visited with a great drought. For three years the
soil was scorched up. The duke's body began to pine away
thereafter.[788]

"White snow" and A major are perhaps only different names
for the same melody, for the misfortune and havoc wrought was
in both cases identical. The chroniclers have recorded it as genuine,
and ordinary people reading it, have reposed confidence in this
narrative. But he who tests its authenticity, must become aware
that it is illusive.

What manner of a tune is A major to bring about such a
result? A major is the sound of "wood," accordingly it causes
wind, and if wood makes wind, rain comes along with it.[789] How
does a piece of wood three feet long[790] and the sound of some
chords possess the wonderful faculty of affecting Heaven and Earth?

That would be like the délabrement of the city wall by tears, or
the fall of frost through a sigh.

The ability of the music-master K`uang to thrum A major must
have been acquired and cannot have been an innate faculty. When
he first studied it, he practised night and day and not only once
or twice. Provided that what the chronicles relate be true, then,
when the music-master was studying A major, wind and rain ought
to have set in.

Some books narrate that, while Hu Pa[791] was playing the lute,
the fish in the ponds came out to listen,[792] and when the music-master
K`uang was touching the guitar, the six kinds of horses
looked up from their fodder.[793] According to another version about
K`uang's performing in A major, when he played the first part, two
times eight black cranes came from the south, and alighted on the
top of the exterior gate. When he played again, they formed
themselves into rows, and when he played the third part, they
began crowing, stretching their necks and dancing, flapping their
wings. The notes F and G were struck with the greatest precision,
and their sound rose to heaven. Duke P`ing was enraptured, and
all the guests were enchanted.[794]

The Shuking says, "[I smite the music-stone, I strike the stone,
and the various animals begin dancing together.]"[795]

This we can believe in spite of its strangeness, for birds and
beasts are partial to sentimental music, and their ears are like the
human. Seeing man desirous of eating something, they likewise
wish to have it, and why should they not be jubilant, on hearing
him rejoicing? That the fish listened, the horses looked up, the
black cranes stretched their necks, and the various animals began
dancing, are facts therefore, but that wind and rain set in, and
that the Chin State was visited with a great drought, that its soil
was scorched up for three years, and Duke P`ing pined away, is
most likely fictitious.

Perchance, when A major was struck, it happened to blow
and to rain, and, after this shower, the Chin State met with a
drought. Duke P`ing being too fond of music and immoderately
indulging in fun and frolic, accidentally was afflicted with marasmus.
Consequently the writers put faith in the story, and the people
witnessing all these circumstances, believed in it. Yet, as a matter
of fact, the musical sounds cannot be productive of such a result,
which we prove as follows:—When wind and rain set in with
great vehemence, there is a confusion of the Yin and the Yang. If
music can confound them, it must also be able to set them in order.
For what reason, then, do the rulers rectify their persons, improve
their conduct, and far and wide exhibit their righteous administration?
Provided it suffices to play a song adjusting the Yin and the Yang,
then harmony comes of itself, and universal peace of its own accord.

It is being reported that, after T`ang had been afflicted with
a drought for seven years, he prayed personally in a mulberry
grove, impeaching himself with the Six Crimes, when Heaven sent
down rain. Some speak of five years. The prayer was couched
in these terms:—"If I alone am guilty, may my guilt not affect
the ten thousand people, and if the guilt be theirs, may it fall on
me alone." Since, because of one man's folly, Heaven employed
God and the spirits[796] to injure people's lives, T`ang cut his hair
and bound his hands, offering himself as a victim. In such a way
he begged happiness of God, who was so pleased, that rain fell
at once.[797] —That T`ang personally prayed in the mulberry grove,
and his self-indictment was as mentioned, that he cut his hair and
bound his hands, thus offering himself as a victim, and that he
implored God, all this is true, but the statement that the rainfall
was owing to T`ang's self-impeachment and personal supplication
seems to be a fallacy.

[Confucius being very sick, Tse Lu asked leave to pray for
him. He said, "May such a thing be done?" Tse Lu replied,
"It may. In the Eulogies it is said, `Prayer has been made for
thee to the spirits of the upper and lower worlds.' " The Master
said, "It is a long time, since I prayed."][798]

The Sage rectified himself and regulated his conduct, and the
days when he used to pray were long gone. Heaven and Earth
and the spirits knew him to be faultless, hence he could say that
it was a long time since he prayed.

We read in the Yiking, ["The great man equals Heaven and
Earth in virtue, the sun and the moon in brightness, the four
seasons in regularity, and the ghosts and spirits in happiness and
misfortune."][799]

That means to say that a sage displays his virtue in the same
manner as Heaven and Earth or ghosts and spirits. Should prayer
be required to secure happiness, this would not be the same. T`ang
as well as Confucius were sages, and the time when they were wont
to pray had long passed. Confucius would not have Tse Lu pray
to cure his disease,—how then could T`ang obtain rain through
prayer? In spite of Confucius' regular prayers, he was taken
seriously ill. T`ang would likewise pray, and yet years of great
drought ensued.

Inundations and droughts of Heaven and Earth are like human
maladies. A serious ailment cannot be expelled by self-indictment,
and so it is plain that floods and droughts are not to be removed
by prayers and penitence. Had T`ang caused the drought by his
faults, he would not have equalled Heaven and Earth in virtue,[800]
and unless he had caused the drought by his guilt, his self-accusation
and craving for mercy was likewise of no use.

Man's bodily frame measures but seven feet, and within this
frame there reside the Five Virtues and eventually consumption.
Yet though fixing all the guilt upon one's self, one cannot cure
it. Now fancy immense Heaven![801] If at the time of a natural
calamity, like a flood or a drought, T`ang with his body of seven
feet and his earnest purpose residing in it had impeached himself
and prayed for mercy, how could he have obtained rain?

When a man stands on the top of a high building of many
stories, and another below prostrates himself and asks for something
on the building, the one on the top hearing his words may, out
of compassion, grant his request. In case, however, he does not
understand what the other says, the latter never obtains his end

in spite of the greatest sincerity of his feelings. Now the distance
from Heaven to man is not only like the height of a storied building.
How could Heaven, although T`ang took the responsibility upon
himself, become aware of it and send him the rain?

A drought is a phenomenon of heat, as an inundation is an
exceptional state of the water. The Great Flood which Yao
encountered may well be termed an inundation. Still Yao did not
impeach himself or personally offer prayers. The flood was to be
regulated by Shun and Yü, and he knew that such a state of water
required regulation. An inundation is not removed by prayers,
and a drought must be treated in the same way. Consequently
the prayers of T`ang could not bring down the rain.

Perhaps the drought had been lasting for a long time, when
rain fell of itself, and T`ang likewise just happened to lay the long
duration of the drought to his charge. The people of that period,
observing the fall of rain just consequent upon T`ang's self-indictment,
then considered that T`ang had obtained the rain by his
invocations.

Some books relate that, [when T`sang Hsieh invented the art
of writing, Heaven rained grain, and the ghosts cried during the
night].[802] This signifies that, when writing was invented, by degrees
disorder broke out, whence the supernatural apparitions:—Heaven
raining grain, and the ghosts crying. What they say about Heaven
raining grain and the ghosts crying during the night is true, but
the affirmation that this was in response to T`sang Hsieh's invention
of writing, is wrong.

The Plan put forth by the Yellow River and the Scroll emerging
from the Lo[803] were lucky auguries for sage emperors and enlightened
kings. There is no difference between the signs of the Plan and
the Scroll and those characters, which were invented by T`sang Hsieh.
Heaven and Earth produced the Plan and the Scroll, while T`sang
Hsieh invented the written characters. His proceeding was like
that of Heaven and Earth, and his idea agreeing with that of
ghosts and spirits. What wrong was there and what evil to cause
such prodigies as the raining of grain and the weeping of ghosts?
If Heaven and Earth and the spirits resented that man had written
books, then their production of the Plan and the Scroll was unjustifiable,

if, on the other hand, Heaven did not grudge mankind
the possession of writing, what wrong was there in its invention
to lead to such monstrosities?

Perhaps Ts`ang Hsieh just happened to make his invention,
when Heaven rained grain, and the ghosts chanced to weep during
the night. The raining of grain as well as the laments of the
spirits had their cause, but people seeing them take place as if in
response to the invention, imagined that the writing had produced
these revolutionary signs, and that they were occasioned by the
event. A propos of the raining of grain the critics claim that it
fell down from Heaven as the product of an extraordinary phenomenon,
but, if our discussion starts from clouds and rain, this
phenomenon cannot be deemed supernatural for the following
reason:

The rain from clouds originates on hills and mountains.
Descending and spreading, these clouds become rain. Beholding it
falling down from above, people are under the impression that it
is Heaven which rains water. On a summer day, rain is water,
whereas in winter, when Heaven is cold, it freezes and turns into
snow. Under all circumstances, it comes from cloudy vapours on
hills and mountains, and it is evident that it cannot descend and
gather on earth from heaven above.[804]

When it rains grain, the clouds likewise scatter it, and it
also rises from the earth. Having been carried away by a strong
wind and blown up to heaven, it falls down again to the earth.
Noticing its descent from heaven, people then speak of Heaven
raining grain.

In the 31st year of Chien-wu,[805] it rained grain at Ch`ên-liu,[806]
and the grain descending covered the ground. Upon examining
the shape of the grain, they found it to be like tribulus, but black,
and it bore resemblance to the grains of panic grass. Perhaps this
grain had grown in the country of the 1 and Ti. These tribes
not eating corn, this grain had grown in the country and, when
ripe, had perhaps fallen upon the ground. Meeting with a strong
gale, it had been hurriedly carried off, blown away and flying
along with the wind, until, the wind subsiding, it had alighted
and descended in China. The Chinese becoming aware of it, then
spoke of the raining of grain. My reasons are the following:

When a wild-fire burns the hills and marshes, the leaves of
plants and trees in them are all reduced to ashes, which, carried
away by a gale, are blown aloft as high as heaven, but, when the
wind relaxes, these leaves come down upon the roads. Now the
grain from heaven is like the burned leaves of plants and trees,
which fly about and fall down, but people regard it as rain, and
the authors look upon it as a wonderful prodigy.

Heaven confines itself to emitting its fluid, whereas Earth
governs the growing of things. All plants with leaves and eatable
fruit are a produce of Earth, and not made by Heaven. Now, grain
is not produced by the fluid and requires earth for its development.
Although they call it a miracle, miracles are bound to certain
species. Provided that things growing from the earth could conversely
descend from heaven, could celestial things likewise issue
from the earth? The productions of Earth are like the stars of
Heaven. The stars do not change their nature and grow from
Earth, why then should grain alone grow from Heaven?

Some books contain a notice that, [when Po Yi[807] made a well,
a dragon mounted a black cloud, and the spirits alighted on the
K`un-lun].[808] This means to say that the dragon was injured by
the well, which was the reason of the phenomenon of the dragon
and the spirits.

The allegation that the dragon mounted a black cloud is
trustworthy, but the remark concerning the spirits alighting on
Mount K`un-lun, and ascribing the rise of the dragon and the flight
of the spirits to the building of a well, is unreliable.

Wells are made for the purpose of drinking, and fields are
planted for the sake of food, which amounts to the same. If Po
Yi, by making a well, caused such extraordinary events, why do
such phenomena not appear, when the soil is first tilled?

Shên Nung[809] shaped a crooked stick into a plough, and taught
people how to till. Then they first began eating grain, and grain
was first sown. The tilled ground becomes a field, and a dug out
hole, a well. From the well comes water to slake the thirst, and
on the field grows grain to appease the hunger. Heaven and Earth,

ghosts and spirits are all agreed on this. Wherefore then does
the dragon rise on a black cloud, and the spirits alight on the
K`un-lun? The mounting of a dragon on a black cloud has
happened in olden as well as modern times, and it did not only
commence to do so when Po Yi dug his well.

At present, in midsummer, when thunder and rain appear
simultaneously, dragons frequently rise on clouds. There being a
certain relation between clouds and dragons, the dragon rides on
clouds and rain.[810] Things of the same class attract one another,
but there is no purpose in this.

In Yao's time, a man of fifty was beating clods of earth on
the road. An observer remarked, "Grand indeed is the virtue of
Yao!"—The man who was playing with earth, replied, "At sunrise
I begin my work, and at sunset I take my rest. I dig a well
to drink, and labour my field to eat. What sort of energy does
Yao display?"[811] Accordingly, in Yao's time, wells must have been
known.

Under the reign of Yao and Shun, dragons were reared and
domesticated and always kept at court. When towards the end
of the Hsia dynasty, the government degenerated, the dragons
concealed themselves,[812] and it was not only when Po Yi had dug his
well, that they rose on clouds.

And who are those spirits that are mentioned? It must be the
hundred spirits.[813] For what reason should these hundred spirits
resent so much that men made wells? If the spirits are similar
to men, they must also have a desire to drink, and, with such
a craving, to detest wells and run away would be self-contradictory.
Even if Po Yi had not dug the well, the dragon would
not have mounted a cloud on account of the digging of some well,
nor would the spirits have alighted on the K`un-lun for that reason.
This is a misconception of some writers and of their invention.

There is a report that Mount Liang[814] collapsed and blocked
a river, which for three days did not flow. The prince of Chin
was very much distressed, Po Tsung,[815] following the counsel of a

carriage-driver, bade Duke Ching dress in plain white silk and bewail
the extraordinary case. Upon this the water of the river
came back.[816]

This is preposterous. A mountain tumbling down and blocking
a river is like a tumor caused by an abscess, which prevents
the circulation of the blood. Could such a tumor be cured by
putting on white clothes and crying?

In Yao's time the Great Flood was surging up to the sky,
encircling mountains and overtopping hills.[817] The emperor Yao
sighed and was anxious to find some clever helpmate. The waters
were worse than the blocking of a river, and Yao's sorrow deeper
than that of Duke Ching, but we have not heard that, by dressing
in white silk and giving vent to his grief, he could overcome the
water. Had Yao no device of some able man like the carriage-driver?[818]

It it impossible to remove a cataclysm like the Great Flood
by such means as sounds and dresses. White silk and tears are
tantamount to repentance and self-indictment. Yao and Yü regulating
the waters did it by means of personal labour, and not by self-reproaches.

Mount Liang was a mountain in Yao's time,[819] and the river
that was blocked was a river of the same period. Both catastrophes,
the falling mountain blocking the river as well as the rain from
heaven and the rise of the water, were not different, but Yao and
Yü regulated the water by personal work, whereas the carriage-driver
had recourse to self-accusation, to put the blocked river in
order. The catastrophes were similar, but the measures taken,
different; the people were alike, but their methods inconsistent.

The true system of the wise and the phenomenalists is otherwise,
I should say. According to their principles, such categories
must be called into play as can affect one another, e. g. if there
be cold, the former state may be restored by warmth, and warmth
may again be dispelled by cold. Thus with dragons they attract
rain, and by punishments expel heat.[820] In all these instances the

fluids of the Five Elements are set in motion, which either affect
or overcome each other.[821] What have white silk and crying over
a blocked river to do with these principles?

Perhaps, when the river was dammed and the mountain
collapsed, first the earth was heaped up, and the water was not
strong enough to break through. Three days later, the water had
increased, so that the earth was dispersed, and the obstruction
destroyed. After the removal of the obstruction, the current set in
again and began flowing eastwards. At the suggestion of Po Tsung
who listened to the carriage-driver, the duke dressed in white silk
and cried, whereupon the water commenced running again. Upon
this they contended that the extraordinary deviation of the river
was adjusted by these measures. As a matter of fact this is
wrong, but how can we know?

If the collapse of the mountain was something natural, white
silk and tears were of no advantage, and if it was a divine calamity
in response to some acts, then the government and the
administration ought to have been changed. Were silk and tears.
in any way connected with a change of government, that they
might remove a divine calamity?

In some books we find the following narrative: The filial
piety of Tsêng Tse was such, that a peculiar sympathy existed between
him and his mother. Once, when Tsêng Tse had gone out to gather
fuel in the country, a guest arrived and wanted to leave again.
Tsêng Tse's mother told him to remain, since her son would soon
be back, and with her right hand she squeezed her left arm.[822]
Tsêng Tse at once felt a pain in his left arm, and forthwith he
came back to his mother, and asked of her the reason why his
arm had pained him. His mother replied, "To-day a guest arrived
and wanted to go away. I squeezed my arm, in order to call you."[823]
For extreme piety leads to a spiritual communication with father
and mother, and a sickness of the body directly affects the spirit.

This is a mistake, I dare say. Since great filial piety and
brotherly love evidently make an impression upon the spirits, one

says that the effects of virtue extend to Heaven and Earth. From
this common people infer that extreme piety and love move the
soul. If the pain in the arm of Tsêng Tse's mother was likewise
felt in his arm, was Tsêng Tse also sick, when his mother was
taken ill, or did he die at once, when his mother expired? We
learn from history that, when Tsêng Tse's mother died first, he did
not follow her. This shows that the spirit may be moved in a
minor degree, but that it cannot be affected to any great extent.

People say that, during the night, Shên Hsi[824] heard his mother
sing. His heart being touched, he opened the door to inquire who
was the singer, and it appeared that it was his mother. Hearing
his mother's voice, the sound affected him. His heart was agitated,
and his mind roused, so that he opened the door to inquire. That
may be true. Now the mother of Tsêng Tse was in the house,
while her son was in the country and could not hear her calls.
How could a little pinching of the arm on the part of his mother
affect the son? Methinks people have embellished the facts.
Hearing that as a dutiful son Tsêng Tse had not his peer on earth,
they invented the story of his mother squeezing her arm.

People say that Cho[825] of Nan-yang[826] following Hou's counsel,
the locusts did not enter his territory. Owing to his extraordinary
wisdom, the calamitous insects did not infest his country.[827] This
also is a fallacy. Great wisdom may make itself felt upon
creatures of a similar kind, which are able to understand the
character of one of their kindred, and afterwards feel a certain
respect for him. Locusts belong to the class of mosquitoes and

gadflies.[828] What do they hear, and what do they know to become
aware of Cho's proceedings? Provided that a wise man lived in
the country, far away in the interior, would mosquitoes and gadflies
not enter his cottage? They would not shun the hut of a
sage, wherefore then should the locusts keep aloof from Cho's
territory?

If they say that the calamity of locusts has nothing in common
with mosquitoes and gadflies, they will admit at least that heat
and cold can also prove calamities. Now, in case cold prevails
throughout a circuit, and that in one of its districts there lives a
wise man, could the area of this one district alone remain warm?
Heat and cold do not recoil from the district of a wise man, why
then should the locusts not enter the territory of Cho?

Consequently it was merely by chance that the locusts did
not ravage his country. The fame of Cho's wisdom being in every
mouth, people conceived the idea that he could avert locusts.

When locusts appear in the country, they cannot go everywhere
nor completely cover the ground. At their gatherings they
are more numerous in some places, and in others less. If their
swarms are concentrated upon one place, it is not necessary that
robber Chê should dwell there, nor is the country which they
spare inhabited by Po Yi.[829] They alight or pass in greater or
smaller numbers, and do not completely cover everything. As in
falling down upon a place, they are many or few, so in passing a
district, they either remain or leave again. From their number no
conclusion can be drawn as to goodness or badness; how then
should their appearance or non-appearance be a criterion of a man's
wisdom? Hence it is plain that, when locusts pass of their own
accord, we have no right to say that they do not come into the
territory of a wise man.