The Chinese Classics, James Legge [the chimp paradox .txt] 📗

SECTION I.

ITS PLACE IN THE LI CHI, AND ITS PUBLICATION SEPARATELY.

1. The Doctrine of the Mean was one of the treatises which came to light in connexion with the labors of Liu Hsiang, and its place as the thirty-first Book in the Li Chi was finally determined by Ma Yung and Chang Hsuan. In the translation of the Li Chi in ‘The Sacred Books of the East’ it is the twenty-eighth Treatise.

2. But while it was thus made to form a part of the great collection of Treatises on Ceremonies, it maintained a separate footing of its own. In Liu Hsin’s Catalogue of the Classical Works, we find ‘Two p’ien of Observations on the Chung Yung [l].’ In the Records of the dynasty of Sui (A.D. 589-618), in the chapter on the History of Literature [2], there are mentioned three Works on the Chung Yung;— the first called ‘The Record of the Chung Yung,’ in two chuan, attributed to Tai Yung, a scholar who flourished about the middle of the fifth century; the second, ‘A Paraphrase and Commentary on the Chung Yung,’ attributed to the emperor Wu (A.D. 502-549) of the Liang dynasty, in one chuan ; and the third, ‘A Private Record, Determining the Meaning of the Chung Yung,’ in five chuan, the author, or supposed author, of which is not mentioned [3].

It thus appears, that the Chung Yung had been published and commented on separately, long before the time of the Sung dynasty. The scholars of that, however, devoted special attention to it, the way being led by the famous Chau Lien-ch’i [4]. He was followed by the two brothers Ch’ang, but neither of them published upon it. At last came Chu Hsi, who produced his Work called

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‘The Chung Yung, in Chapters and Sentences [1],’ which was made the text book of the Classic at the literary examinations, by the fourth emperor of the Yuan dynasty (A.D. 1312-1320), and from that time the name merely of the Treatise was retained in editions of the Li Chi. Neither text nor ancient commentary was given.

Under the present dynasty it is not so. In the superb edition of ‘The Three Li Ching,’ edited by numerous committees of scholars towards the middle of the Ch’ien-lung reign, the Chung Yung is published in two parts, the ancient commentaries from ‘The Thirteen Ching’ being given side by side with those of Chu Hsi.

SECTION II.

ITS AUTHOR; AND SOME ACCOUNT OF HIM.

1. The composition of the Chung Yung is attributed to K’ung Chi, the grandson of Confucius [2]. Chinese inquirers and critics are agreed on this point, and apparently on sufficient grounds. There is indeed no internal evidence in the Work to lead us to such a conclusion. Among the many quotations of Confucius’s words and references to him, we might have expected to find some indication that the sage was the grandfather of the author, but nothing of the kind is given. The external evidence, however, or that from the testimony of authorities, is very strong. In Sze-ma Ch’ien’s Historical Records, published about B.C. 100, it is expressly said that ‘Tsze-sze made the Chung Yung.’ And we have a still stronger proof, a century earlier, from Tsze-sze’s own descendant, K’ung Fu, whose words are, ‘Tsze-sze compiled the Chung Yung in forty-nine p’ien [3].’ We may, therefore, accept the received account without hesitation.

2. As Chi, spoken of chiefly by his designation of Tsze-sze, thus occupies a distinguished place in the classical literature of China, it

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3 This K’ung Fu (������) was that descendant of Confucius, who hid several books in the wall of his house, on the issuing of the imperial edict for their burning. He was a writer himself, and his Works are referred to under the title of ���������. I have not seen them, but the statement given above is found in the ���������������;— art. ������. — ������������,���������������������,������������.

may not be out of place to bring together here a few notices of him gathered from reliable sources.

He was the son of Li, whose death took place B.C. 483, four years before that of the sage, his father. I have not found it recorded in what year he was born. Sze-ma Ch’ien says he died at the age of 62. But this is evidently wrong, for we learn from Mencius that he was high in favour with the duke Mu of Lu [1], whose accession to that principality dates in B.C. 409, seventy years after the death of Confucius. In the ‘Plates and Notices of the Worthies, sacrificed to in the Sage’s Temples [2],’ it is supposed that the sixty-two in the Historical Records should be eighty-two [3]. It is maintained by others that Tsze-sze’s life was protracted beyond 100 years [4]. This variety of opinions simply shows that the point cannot be positively determined. To me it seems that the conjecture in the Sacrificial Canon must be pretty near the truth [5].

During the years of his boyhood, then, Tsze-sze must have been with his grandfather, and received his instructions. It is related, that one day, when he was alone with the sage, and heard him sighing, he went up to him, and, bowing twice, inquired the reason of his grief. ‘Is it,’ said he, ‘because you think that your descendants, through not cultivating themselves, will be unworthy of you? Or is it that, in your admiration of the ways of Yao and Shun, you are vexed that you fall short of them?’ ‘Child,’ replied Confucius, ‘how is it that you know my thoughts?’ ‘I have often,’ said Tsze-sze, ‘heard from you the lesson, that when the father has gathered and prepared the firewood, if the son cannot carry the bundle, he is to be pronounced degenerate and unworthy. The remark comes frequently into my thoughts, and fills me with great apprehensions.’ The sage was delighted. He

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4 See the ������������, on the preface to the Chung Yung, — ���������������.

5 Li himself was born in Confucius’s twenty-first year, and if Tsze-sze had been born in Li’s twenty-first year, he must have been 103 at the time of duke Mu’s accession. But the tradition is, that Tsze-sze was a pupil of Tsang Shan who was born B.C. 504. We must place his birth therefore considerably later, and suppose him to have been quite young when his father died. I was talking once about the question with a Chinese friend, who observed:— ‘Li was fifty when he died, and his wife married again into a family of Wei. We can hardly think, therefore, that she was anything like that age. Li could not have married so soon as his father did. Perhaps he was about forty when Chi was born.’

smiled and said, ‘Now, indeed, shall I be without anxiety! My undertakings will not come to naught. They will be carried on and flourish [1].’ After the death of Confucius, Chi became a pupil, it is said, of the philosopher Tsang. But he received his instructions with discrimination, and in one instance which is recorded in the Li Chi, the pupil suddenly took the place of the master. We there read: ‘Tsang said to Tsze-sze, “Chi, when I was engaged in mourning for my parents, neither congee nor water entered my mouth for seven days.” Tsze-sze answered, “In ordering their rules of propriety, it was the design of the ancient kings that those who would go beyond them should stoop and keep by them, and that those who could hardly reach them should stand on tiptoe to do so. Thus it is that the superior man, in mourning for his parents, when he has been three days without water or congee, takes a staff to enable himself to rise [2].”’

While he thus condemned the severe discipline of Tsang, Tsze-sze appears, in various incidents which are related of him, to have been himself more than sufficiently ascetic. As he was living in great poverty, a friend supplied him with grain, which he readily received. Another friend was emboldened by this to send him a bottle of spirits, but he declined to receive it.’ You receive your corn from other people,’ urged the donor, ‘and why should you decline my gift, which is of less value? You can assign no ground in reason for it, and if you wish to show your independence, you should do so completely.’ ‘I am so poor,’ was the reply, ‘as to be in want, and being afraid lest I should die and the sacrifices not be offered to my ancestors, I accept the grain as an alms. But the spirits and the dried flesh which you offer to me are the appliances of a feast. For a poor man to be feasting is certainly unreasonable. This is the ground of my refusing your gift. I have no thought of asserting my independence [3].’

To the same effect is the account of Tsze-sze, which we have from Liu Hsiang. That scholar relates:— ‘When Chi was living in Wei, he wore a tattered coat, without any lining, and in thirty days had only nine meals. T’ien Tsze-fang having heard of his

1 See the ������������, in the place just quoted from. For the incident we are indebted to K’ung Fu; see note 3, p. 36.

2 Li Chi, II. Sect. I. ii. 7.

3 See the ������������, as above.

distress, sent a messenger to him with a coat of fox-fur, and being afraid that he might not receive it, he added the message,— “When I borrow from a man, I forget it; when I give a thing, I part with it freely as if I threw it away.” Tsze-sze declined the gift thus offered, and when Tsze-fang said, “I have, and you have not; why will you not take it?” he replied, “You give away as rashly as if you were casting your things into a ditch. Poor as I am, I cannot think of my body as a ditch, and do not presume to accept your gift [1].” ‘Tsze-sze’s mother married again, after Li’s death, into a family of Wei. But this circumstance, which is not at all creditable in Chinese estimation, did not alienate his affections from her. He was in Lu when he heard of her death, and proceeded to weep in the temple of his family. A disciple came to him and said, ‘Your mother married again into the family of the Shu, and do you weep for her in the temple of the K’ung?’ ‘I am wrong,’ said Tsze-sze, ‘I am wrong;’ and with these words he went to weep elsewhere [2].

In his own married relation he does not seem to have been happy, and for some cause, which has not been transmitted to us, he divorced his wife, following in this, it has been wrongly said, the example of Confucius. On her death, her son, Tsze-shang [3], did not undertake any mourning for her. Tsze-sze’s disciples were surprised and questioned him. ‘Did your predecessor, a superior man,’ they asked, ‘mourn for his mother who had been divorced?’ ‘Yes,’ was the reply. ‘Then why do you not cause Pai [4] to mourn for his mother?’ Tsze-sze answered, ‘My progenitor, a superior man, failed in nothing to pursue the proper path. His observances increased or decreased as the case required. But I cannot attain to this. While she was my wife, she was Pai’s mother; when she ceased to be my wife, she ceased to be Pai’s mother.’ The custom of the K’ung family not to mourn for a mother who had been divorced, took its rise from Tsze-sze [5].

These few notices of K’ung Chi in his more private