“ ‘In that case,’ retorted Mencius, ‘the nature of a dog is the same as that of an ox, and the nature of an ox the same as that of a man.’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘Eating and reproduction of the species are natural instincts. Charity is subjective and innate; duty towards one’s neighbour is objective and acquired. For instance, there is a man who is my senior, and I defer to him as such. Not because any abstract principle of seniority exists subjectively in me, but in the same way that if I see an albino, I recognise him as a white man because he is so objectively to me. Consequently, I say that duty towards one’s neighbour is objective or acquired.’
“Mencius replied, ‘The cases are not analogous. The whiteness of a white horse is undoubtedly the same as the whiteness of a white man; but the seniority of a horse is not the same as the seniority of a man. Does our duty to our senior begin and end with the fact of his seniority? Or does it not rather consist in the necessity of deferring to him as such?’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘I love my own brother, but I do not love another man’s brother. The distinction arises from within myself; therefore I call it subjective or innate. But I defer to a stranger who is my senior, just as I defer to a senior among my own people. The distinction comes to me from without; therefore I call it objective or acquired.”
“Mencius retorted, ‘We enjoy food cooked by strangers just as much as food cooked by our own people. Yet extension of your principle lands us in the conclusion that our appreciation of cooked food is also objective and acquired.’ ”
The following is a well-known colloquy between Mencius and a sophist of the day who tried to entangle the former in his talk:—
The sophist inquired, saying, “ ‘Is it a rule of social etiquette that when men and women pass things from one to another they shall not allow their hands to touch?’
“ ‘That is the rule,’ replied Mencius.
“ ‘Now suppose,’ continued the sophist, ‘that a man’s sister-in-law were drowning, could he take hold of her hand and save her?’
“ ‘Any one who did not do so,’ said Mencius, ‘would have the heart of a wolf. That men and women when passing things from one to another may not let their hands touch is a rule for general application. To save a drowning sister-in-law by taking hold of her hand is altogether an exceptional case.’ ”
The works of Mencius abound, like the Confucian Analects, in sententious utterances. The following examples illustrate his general bias in politics:—“The people are of the highest importance; the gods come second; the sovereign is of lesser weight.”
“Chieh and Chou lost the empire because they lost the people, which means that they lost the confidence of the people. The way to gain the people is to gain their confidence, and the way to do that is to provide them with what they like and not with what they loathe.”
This is how Mencius snuffed out the two heterodox philosophers mentioned above:—
“The systems of Yang Chu and Mo Ti fill the whole empire. If a man is not a disciple of the former, he is a disciple of the latter. But Yang Chu’s egoism excludes the claim of a sovereign, while Mo Ti’s universal altruism leaves out the claim of a father. And he who recognises the claim of neither sovereign nor father is a brute beast.”
Yang Chu seems to have carried his egoism so far that even to benefit the whole world he would not have parted with a single hair from his body.
“The men of old knew that with life they had come but for a while, and that with death they would shortly depart again. Therefore they followed the desires of their own hearts, and did not deny themselves pleasures to which they felt naturally inclined. Fame tempted them not; but led by their instincts alone, they took such enjoyments as lay in their path, not seeking for a name beyond the grave. They were thus out of the reach of censure; while as for precedence among men, or length or shortness of life, these gave them no concern whatever.”
Mo Ti, on the other hand, showed that under the altruistic system all calamities which men bring upon one another would altogether disappear, and that the peace and happiness of the Golden Age would be renewed.
TA HSÜEH AND CHUNG YUNG
In the Ta Hsüeh, or Great Learning, which forms Sect. xxxix. of the Book of Rites, and really means learning for adults, we have a short politico-ethical treatise, the authorship of which is unknown, but is usually attributed partly to Confucius, and partly to Tsêng Ts’an, one of the most famous of his disciples. In the former portion there occurs the following well-known climax:—
“The men of old, in their desire to manifest great virtue throughout the empire, began with good government in the various States. To achieve this, it was necessary first to order aright their own families, which in turn was preceded by cultivation of their own selves, and that again by rectification of the heart, following upon sincerity of purpose which comes from extension of knowledge, this last being derived from due investigation of objective existences.”
One more short treatise, known as the Chung Yung, which forms Ch. xxviii. of the Book of Rites, brings us to the end of the Four Books. Its title has been translated in various ways.[2] Julien rendered the term by “L’Invariable Milieu,” Legge by “The Doctrine of the Mean.” Its authorship is assigned to K’ung Chi, grandson of Confucius. He seems to have done little more than enlarge upon certain general principles of his grandfather in relation to the nature of man and right conduct upon earth. He seizes the occasion to pronounce an impassioned eulogium upon Confucius, concluding with the following words:—
“Therefore his fame overflows the Middle Kingdom, and reaches the barbarians of north and south. Wherever ships and waggons can go, or the strength of man penetrate; wherever there is heaven above and earth below; wherever the sun and moon shed their light, or frosts and dews fall—all who have blood and breath honour and love him. Wherefore it may be said that he is the peer of God.”
CHAPTER IV
MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS
Names of the authors who belong to this period, B.C. 600 to B.C. 200, and of the works on a variety of subjects attributed to them, would fill a long list. Many of the latter have disappeared, and others are gross forgeries, chiefly of the first and second centuries of our era, an epoch which, curiously enough, is remarkable for a similar wave of forgery on the other side of the world. As to the authors, it will be seen later on that the Chinese even went so far as to create some of these for antiquity and then write up treatises to match.
There was Sun Tzŭ of the 6th century B.C. He is said to have written the Ping Fa, or Art of War, in thirteen sections, whereby hangs a strange tale. When he was discoursing one day with Prince Ho-lu of the Wu State, the latter said, “I have read your book and want to know if you could apply its principles to women.” Sun Tzŭ replied in the affirmative, whereupon the Prince took 180 girls out of his harem and bade Sun Tzŭ deal with them as with troops. Accordingly he divided them into two companies, and at the head of each placed a favourite concubine of the Prince. But when the drums sounded for drill to begin, all the girls burst out laughing. Thereupon Sun Tzŭ, without a moment’s delay, caused the two concubines in command to be beheaded. This at once restored order, and ultimately the corps was raised to a state of great efficiency.
The following is an extract from the Art of War:—
“If soldiers are not carefully chosen and well drilled to obey, their movements will be irregular. They will not act in concert. They will miss success for want of unanimity. Their retreat will be disorderly, one half fighting while the other is running away. They will not respond to the call of the gong and drum. One hundred such as these will not hold their own against ten well-drilled