北山錄 3.4.2

3.4.2

In the beginning, [humans] take pleasure in [animals] because they can tell the time (the cock), can bark and guard (the dog), can reach distant places (the ox, bearing heavy loads to reach distant places), and can relieve toil (the horse). Yet in the end, it is never the case that because of their abilities, humans do not kill them, do not eat them, or do not use their skins and hair. Therefore, even if those [beasts] are careful to rely on their rewards, yet fearful that harm will reach them, good fortune is still scarce for them. How much more so for those of the Way and virtue! (Though such birds and beasts receive appreciation and love, they still face execution and harm.) They are like rare birds and strange beasts: of no urgent use to the myriad hamlets (a well means a native hamlet; nine households make a well). Even if they happen to please a single scholar, how could that last long? In an age of supreme virtue (the times of high antiquity), when one could peer into bird nests and tether stags, why was that? Because the impulse to kill was subtle. In later ages, [birds] built their nests high and [beasts] fled far from men (birds nested high and beasts fled far from humans because they feared slaughter), and none could be tamed or grown familiar with. Was this not because that impulse had grown extreme? (For instance, when Jizha of Wu paid a court visit to Jin, as he crossed the border he sighed and said, "How tyrannical!" When his attendants asked the reason, he said, "I see that the birds' nests are high; thus I know it is tyrannical.") Zhongni said: "If nests are overturned and eggs broken, the phoenix will not arrive; if marshes are exhausted and lakes drained, the qilin will not arrive." They detest injury to their kind (they loathe harm to their own kind). Thus the worthy do not serve [the violent], and their power [only] serves to place them beneath others (because they do not form factions and remain loftily aloof). Heaven bestows its blessings; humans contemplate freedom from contention (life and death depend on destiny, wealth and honor lie with Heaven; when one is moved by discrete retributions, one does not act rashly). Now, those who dwell among the powerful and arrogant (scholars of authority and overbearing power) seldom fail to indulge themselves and strive above all to surpass others (seldom means rarely; indulge means to become accustomed to; strive means to aspire to; surpass means to best. Noble, powerful, and arrogant scholars seldom do not habituate themselves to thoughts of their own power and prestige; once habituated, they inevitably seek earnestly to overcome and surpass others). Looking upon those of humble gate and sparse connections, though they possess wisdom and artistic skill, what regard is there for them? (Those of power and prestige, towards scholars of thatch gates and wattle huts, even if their talent and skill reach the clouds, pay them no heed.) Expecting nothing of forbearance toward themselves, [the powerful] will inevitably entangle them, framing them with crimes to afflict them (forbearance means pity; having no pity, they will surely fabricate other matters to ensnare them, heaping guilt and blame upon them to harm them). Therefore the Book says: "Families of hereditary emolument are seldom able to abide by propriety." (A line from the "Bi ming" chapter of the Shangshu; families that possess hereditary emoluments and ranks are rarely able to use propriety.) How then could one hope to regulate their aloofness with propriety? Yet among officials there are those with ambition and mettle who take ruthlessness as a virtue. How could they know the favor of gentle warmth? If confronted by the glaring eyes of tigers and rhinoceroses, they would strike against them with force; why should they care about their wrath? (Glaring eyes denotes an angry look. To strike means to oppose and resist; why would they fear their wrath?) In ancient times, Guan Fan killed Bo Yuan (Yuan's courtesy name was Fazu, his original surname was Wan, a man of Henei. He went forth from home in his youth, his talent and thoughts sharp and penetrating, reciting ten thousand words daily. Zhang Fu favored him and wished to order him to return to the lay life, but he refused. Later he debated doctrine with the Daoist Guan Fan; Fan was bested and slandered him to Fu, who killed him. When the various barbarians heard of this, they entered Qinzhou in anger and killed both Fu and Fan). Yu Gong slaughtered Fahui (Fahui was a man of Guanzhong, upright, fitting, and possessed of moral conduct. During the Jianyuan era of Emperor Kang of Jin, he stayed in Xiangyang, refusing private invitations. Whenever he begged for food, he always carried a rope-bed with him. Once encountering rain, he covered himself with an oiled mantle; when the rain stopped, he could not be seen. The monk Fazhao said, "In your past you once injured a fowl's leg; your misfortune is about to arrive." Later he was killed by Yu Zhigong, General Who Subdues the West). How extreme was their venting of wrath and reckless punishment! Surely this was also because those [monks] did not slip away into hiding, nor did they conduct themselves with prudent modesty (surely means truly; slip away means to flee. Worthies retreat from the world; since they could not retreat from the evils of the world, they ought immediately to have acted with prudence and spoken with modesty, embracing the safeguard of self-preservation, yet they brought calamity upon themselves). It was because of rigid attachment to the principle of karma that it came to this (merely being rigidly attached without flexibility, determining matters solely by karmic retribution, thus it came to this). Some, being rich in the Way, do not cling to the self; hence they wear coarse hemp and restrict their grain, casting off their physical form like a shed skin. They certainly do not find death difficult, so how could they feign pretenses? (Among them were some whose Daoist virtue was solitary and high, thoroughly penetrating emptiness and existence, where self and other were both lost. Toward death they had no fear, so how could they falsely pretend in order to seek life?) Yet they likely failed to grasp the true righteousness of death (neither rescuing the doctrine of the teaching, nor seeking the Way to aid beings, vainly rushing to death—of what use was it?). Now, there are those who make light of death out of courage, and there are those who make light of death out of having lost the self. As for those with courage, if they are not foolish, they are benevolent (among those who die out of courage, some fear not death due to foolishness, while others are brave unto death due to benevolence). The foolish are like those who grapple with tigers bare-handed or cross rivers on foot (grappling with tigers means fighting them without weapons; crossing rivers means fording them on foot). The benevolent attain righteousness and ascend to the Mingtang (dying to defend against national crisis, one ascends to the Mingtang). Those who have lost the self possess sagely benevolence: they do not deliberately invite death, but when death arrives, they are not afraid (having awakened and penetrated life and death, why fear? Only karma is to be feared). In ancient times, during the transition between the Wei and Zhou, when was there ever one who, unsparing of his person, snapped the balustrade and courageously died for righteousness? (In the Hanshu: Zhu Yun, courtesy name Ziyou, was a man of Lu. In the time of Emperor Cheng, Zhang Yu was the Emperor's tutor and was treated with great honor. Yun submitted a memorial saying, "I wish to be granted the Imperial Horse-Decapitating Sword to cut off the head of one fawning minister, so as to warn the rest." The Emperor asked, "Who is it?" "The Marquis of Anchang, Zhang Yu." The Emperor was enraged: "A minor official in a lowly position slanders his superior and insults the imperial tutor in open court!" He ordered the censors to drag him down from the palace hall. Yun clung to the hall's balustrade until it snapped. Only when Xin Ji kowtowed and remonstrated did it cease. Since then, during the Later Wei and Later Zhou, when was there ever such a man?) Although the likes of Jing'ai and Daoji killed themselves among desolate crags, they were merely of the sort who hang themselves in a ditch (Ai remonstrated against Emperor Wu of the Zhou's proscription of the saṅgha without success; he entered the mountains, pricked blood to write on stone, hung his intestines on a tree, took out his heart, held it in his hands, and died. The Lunyu says: "How can it be compared to the fidelity of common men and women, who hang themselves in a ditch?"). After the pacification of the Qi, Huiyuan, filled with indignation and grief, uttered a roar like a thunderclap; his words were unyielding, and beard bristling, he provoked the ruler's wrath, barely escaping execution (Master Yuan remonstrated with Emperor Wu of Zhou, and nearly caused an imperial order of execution to be issued. Later Yuan fled into the mountain forests to lecture on the Nirvāṇa Sūtra, only emerging when Emperor Wen of Sui arose). Therefore the worthy are able to employ expedients, and the sagely understand the opportune moment; though they do not prize life, neither may they make light of death. Chou said to Gao Yang: "Dānapati, in the past you were a rākṣasa; just look at the water and you will see yourself." The Emperor complied and beheld a host of rākṣasas.