ChineseStudy

Horses’ Hooves

Contents

Text

English translation

A horse’s hooves can tread on frost and snow, and its coat can withstand wind and cold. It eats grass, drinks water, and lifts its hooves to leap about: this is the horse’s true nature. Even the Yi Terrace and the Lu Chamber would be of no use to it. Then Bo Le came along and said, “I am skilled at handling horses.”

He brands them, clips them, pares them, and fits them with headstalls. He binds them with halters and tethers and places them in stables; two or three horses in ten have died! He makes them go hungry and thirsty, drives them to run and gallop, and forces them into order and uniformity. Before them is the trouble of bits and ornaments, and behind them the menace of whips and riding crops; more than half the horses have died! The potter says, “I am skilled at working clay.”

What is made round conforms to the compass, and what is made square conforms to the carpenter's square. The carpenter says, “I am skilled at working wood.”

What is curved fits the hook, and what is straight answers to the marking line. But could it be the nature of clay and wood to wish to conform to compass, square, hook, and line? Yet generation after generation people praise this, saying, “Bo Le is skilled at working on horses, while potters and carpenters are skilled at working on clay and wood.”

This, too, is the fault of those who govern the world.

In my view, those who are good at governing the world do otherwise. The people have a constant nature: they weave and clothe themselves, till the soil and feed themselves. This is called sharing the same virtue. They are one, yet form no factions; this is named Heaven’s release. Thus, in an age of utmost virtue, their steps are steady and unhurried, and their gaze is composed. At that time there were no paths or tunnels through the mountains, and no boats or bridges over the marshes. The myriad things lived in groups, their dwelling places linked together; birds and beasts gathered in herds and flocks, and grasses and trees grew to fulfillment.

Thus beasts could be tethered and led about, and the nests of birds and magpies could be climbed up to and peered into. In an age of utmost virtue, people dwelt together with beasts and formed one community alongside the myriad things. How could anyone know of noble men and petty men? All alike were without contrived knowledge, and so their virtue did not depart from them; all alike were without desire—this is called plain simplicity. In plain simplicity, the people's nature remained whole.

When the sages appeared, however, they hobbled and strained in the practice of benevolence, stamped and stretched upward in the pursuit of righteousness, and then the world first began to doubt. They spread themselves without restraint in making music and contrived fine distinctions in devising rites, and then the world first became divided. Thus, if unbroken simplicity had not been cut apart, how could there be ornamented sacrificial vessels? If white jade had not been damaged by carving, how could there be gui and zhang tablets? If the Way and virtue had not been cast aside, what need would there be for benevolence and righteousness? If innate nature and genuine feeling had not been separated, what use would rites and music have? If the five colors had not been thrown into confusion, how could decorative patterns arise?

If the five notes had not been thrown into confusion, what would there be for the six pitch standards to bring into accord?

To hack uncarved wood into implements is the fault of the artisan; to destroy natural integrity in order to fashion benevolence and righteousness is the error of the sage. Horses living on land eat grass and drink water. When pleased, they cross necks and rub against one another; when angry, they turn their backs and kick at one another. A horse’s knowing originally went no further than this. But put crossbars and yokes upon them and fit them with crescent-shaped frontlets, and horses learn to look askance, crook their necks against the yoke, thrust and bolt, slip the bit by a trick, and steal free of the reins.

Thus, that the knowing of horses could develop as far as thievery was the fault of Bo Le. In the age of Hexu, the people dwelt without knowing what they were doing and traveled without knowing where they were going. With food in their mouths they delighted, and they drummed on their bellies and wandered about. The people’s capacities went no further than this.

When the sages appeared, they bent and turned their bodies in rites and music to regulate the forms of all under heaven, and hung benevolence and righteousness on high for people to crane toward, in order to soothe the hearts of all under heaven. Only then did the people begin to stand on tiptoe and strive, delight in clever knowing, and race one another toward profit, beyond anyone’s power to stop them. This too was the error of the sages.

Feedback