ChineseStudy

The Old Fisherman

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English translation

Confucius was traveling in the forest of Ziwei and sat resting on the Apricot Altar. His disciples were reading, while Confucius sang to the strings and played the qin. Before the piece was half over, a fisherman came down from a boat: his beard and eyebrows were wholly white, his hair was unbound, and his sleeves swung. He walked up over the high ground and stopped at the dry land by the bank. His left hand rested on his knee, and his right hand propped his chin, as he listened.

When the tune ended, he beckoned to Zigong and Zilu; the two came forward together in response. The visitor pointed at Confucius and said, “What does that man do?”

Zilu replied, “He is a gentleman of Lu.”

The visitor asked his clan. Zilu replied, “His clan is the Kongs.”

The visitor said, “What does this man of the Kong clan cultivate?”

Zilu had not yet answered, and Zigong replied, “As for the man of the Kong clan: by nature he upholds loyalty and good faith; in person he practices benevolence and righteousness; he embellishes ritual and music and orders human relations. Above, he is loyal to the rulers of the age; below, he transforms the common people; he would thereby benefit the world. This is what the Kong clan cultivates.”

He asked again, 'Is he a ruler with territory?'

Zigong said, 'No.'

'Is he an aide to the lords and kings?'

Zigong said, 'No.'

The visitor then laughed, turned, and walked away, saying, 'Benevolent, yes, but I fear he will not escape harm to himself. He afflicts his mind and tires his body, endangering his true nature. Alas! How far he is from the Way!'

Zigong returned and reported to Confucius. Confucius pushed the qin aside and rose, saying, 'Could he be a sage?'

He then went down to seek him and reached the edge of the marsh. The man was just then holding a pole and pulling his boat; turning his head, he saw Confucius, turned back toward him, and stood still. Confucius stepped back quickly, bowed twice, and advanced. The stranger said, 'What do you seek?'

Confucius said, 'A moment ago, sir, you left after speaking some unfinished words. I, Qiu, am unworthy and did not understand what you meant. I have humbly waited downwind, hoping to hear the sound of your cough and spittle, so that you may finally assist me.'

The stranger said, 'Ah! Your devotion to learning has indeed gone very far!'

Confucius bowed twice and stood up, saying, 'I, Qiu, have cultivated learning since youth and have continued until now; I am sixty-nine years old, yet I have never been able to hear the highest teaching. How dare I not be open-minded!'

The stranger said, 'Like follows like, and similar sounds answer one another; this is certainly the principle of Heaven. Let me set forth what I possess and order what you are engaged in. What you are engaged in is human affairs. The Son of Heaven, the feudal lords, the great officers, and the common people—if these four each keep themselves correct, that is the excellence of order; if these four depart from their stations, there is no greater disorder.

When officials each administer their duties and people attend to their own affairs, no one oversteps or encroaches.

Thus fields lying waste and houses exposed, food and clothing insufficient, levies and taxes not continuous, wives and concubines not harmonious, elders and juniors without order—these are the worries of the common people. When ability is not equal to the office, official business is not governed, conduct is not clean and clear, subordinates are lax and idle, no merit or fine name is possessed, and rank and salary cannot be held—these are the worries of the great officers. When the court has no loyal ministers, the state is benighted and disordered, craftsmen's skills are not fine, tribute and service are not well presented, the spring and autumn court visits fall behind their proper order, and the lord does not obey the Son of Heaven—these are the worries of the feudal lords. When yin and yang are not harmonious, cold and heat are out of season, so that the myriad things are injured; when feudal lords are violent and chaotic, arbitrarily seizing and attacking one another, so that the people are harmed; when ritual and music lack regulation, wealth and resources are exhausted, human relations are not ordered, and the common people are licentious and chaotic—these are the worries of the Son of Heaven and his officials.

Now you, sir, above have no authority of a ruler, feudal lord, or office, and below have no official post as a great minister or functionary; yet you presume to embellish ritual and music, select the norms of human relations, and thereby transform the common people—is this not excessive meddling? Moreover, people have eight blemishes and affairs have four afflictions; these cannot but be examined.

To take up what is not one's affair is called zong, taking charge. To press forward when no one regards one is called ning, glib forwardness. To read another's wishes and guide one's words accordingly is called chan, flattery. To speak without choosing between right and wrong is called yu, toadying. To delight in speaking of others' faults is called chan, slander. To break up friendships and estrange kin is called zei, treachery. To praise fraud and falsehood in order to ruin those one hates is called te, malignity. To make no choice between good and bad, to accommodate both sides with a fitting face, and stealthily to take whatever one desires is called xian, dangerous cunning.

These eight blemishes: outwardly they disorder others; inwardly they injure the self. The noble man does not befriend those who have them, and the enlightened ruler does not make them his ministers.

The so-called four afflictions are these: to delight in managing great affairs, to alter and change the constant, in order to seek merit and fame—this is called tāo, acquisitiveness. To rely solely on one's own understanding and take affairs into one's own hands, encroaching on others and acting willfully—this is called tān, greed. To see one's fault and not correct it, and to hear remonstrance and only grow worse—this is called hen, stubborn harshness. When others agree with oneself, one approves; when they do not agree, even if they are good, one does not count them as good—this is called jin, self-conceit. These are the four afflictions.

Only after one can remove the eight faults and refrain from the four harmful practices can one begin to receive instruction.

Confucius's expression changed with distress; he sighed, bowed twice, and rose, saying: “Qiu was driven out of Lu twice, had his traces erased in Wei, had a tree cut down in Song, and was besieged between Chen and Cai. I do not know what fault I have committed, yet why have I encountered these four reproaches?”

The guest's expression changed to sorrow, and he said: “How hard it is for you to awaken! There was a man who feared his shadow and hated his footprints, so he ran away from them. The more often he lifted his feet, the more footprints he made; the faster he ran, the more his shadow stayed with him. He thought he was still too slow, so he ran fast without stopping, exhausted his strength, and died. He did not know to stay in the shade to rest his shadow or to remain still to make his footprints cease—how foolish he was!”

You scrutinize the distinctions within benevolence and righteousness, examine the boundaries of sameness and difference, observe the transformations of movement and stillness, adjust the measure of receiving and giving, order the feelings of liking and disliking, and harmonize the limits of joy and anger—yet you are close to being unable to escape calamity. Carefully cultivate your own person, cautiously guard your truth, and return external things to others; then there will be nothing to burden you. Now you do not cultivate it in yourself but seek it from others—is that not turning outward?”

Confucius's expression changed with a sorrowful change of countenance, and he said: “May I ask what is called ‘the true’?”

The guest said: “The true is the utmost of pure sincerity. Without purity and sincerity, one cannot move others. Thus one who forces tears may look sorrowful without truly mourning; one who forces anger may look stern without inspiring awe (the base text reads 屯; common editions read 威); and one who forces affection may smile without being warm. True sorrow is silent yet mournful; true anger has authority before it is expressed; true affection is warm before it smiles.”

When the true is within, the spirit stirs outwardly; this is why the true is valued. When it is applied to human relations, in serving one's parents one is caring and filial; in serving one's ruler one is loyal and steadfast; in drinking wine one is joyful; in mourning one is sorrowful. Loyalty and steadfastness take merit as their chief concern; drinking wine takes joy as its chief concern; mourning takes grief as its chief concern; serving one's parents takes fitting ease as its chief concern.

The beauty of an accomplishment is that not a single trace of it remains; in serving one's parents one seeks what suits them, without debating the means; in drinking wine one seeks joy, without choosing the vessels; in mourning one seeks grief, without asking about the rites. Rites are what the world customarily does; the true is what is received from Heaven, natural and not to be altered. Thus the sage models himself on Heaven and values the true, and is not bound by custom.

The foolish reverse this. They cannot model themselves on Heaven but fret over others; they do not know how to value the true. Busily, in their ordinariness, they are changed by custom, and so they are insufficient. What a pity! You, sir, were steeped in artifice early and heard the Great Way only late.

Confucius bowed twice, rose, and said: 'Today Qiu has met you, as if favored by Heaven. You, sir, did not take it as a disgrace to rank me among your servants and to teach me in person. May I venture to ask where you lodge? I beg to receive instruction from you and thereby finally learn the Great Way.'

The stranger said: 'I have heard it said: with one who can go along, go with him to the wondrous Way; one who cannot go along does not know its Way. Be careful not to go along with him, and your person will be without blame. Work at it, sir; I am leaving you, I am leaving you!'

Then he poled the boat away, moving slowly along among the reeds (the base text writes 剌船; common editions have 刺船).

Yan Yuan turned the carriage around, and Zilu handed him the mounting strap. Confucius did not look back; he waited until the ripples had settled and the sound of the boat-pole was no longer heard, and only then did he venture to mount. Zilu stood beside the carriage and asked: 'I, You, have served as your attendant for a long time, yet I have never seen the Master meet anyone with such reverence.'

Lords of ten thousand chariots and rulers of a thousand chariots, whenever they see you, Master, never fail to meet you as equals with due courtesy, and yet you still wear a look of arrogance. Now this fisherman, leaning on his oar, stands facing you, while you bend your waist like a chime stone, bowing before you speak and then answering—is this not going too far? Your disciples all find you strange, Master. How did the fisherman come to receive such honor?

Confucius leaned on the carriage crossbar and sighed. 'How hard it is to transform Zilu! You have been steeped in ritual and righteousness for some time now, yet your rustic, uncouth heart has still not left you to this day. Come, I will tell you: to meet an elder and not respect him is to fail in ritual; to see a worthy person and not honor him is to lack benevolence. Unless a man is a Perfect Man, he cannot humble himself before others. If in humbling himself before others he is not sincere, he will not attain the true, and so will long injure himself.'

Alas! For a person, there is no calamity greater than lack of benevolence, and yet Zilu alone has it. Moreover, the Way is that by which all things proceed. The myriad things die when they lose it and live when they obtain it. In affairs, to go against it is to fail; to follow it is to succeed. Therefore wherever the Way is, the sage honors it.

As for this fisherman today, with respect to the Way, one may say that he possesses it. How dare I not respect him!

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