Yang Zhu traveled to Lu and lodged with the Meng family. Mr. Meng asked: “A man is just a man; why pursue a name?” He said: “A name is pursued for the sake of wealth.” “Once wealthy, why not stop?” He said: “For the sake of rank.” “Once of high rank, why not stop?” He said: “For the sake of death.” “Once dead, what is it for?” He said: “For the sake of one's descendants.” “How does a name benefit one's descendants?” He said: “A name makes one's body suffer and one's heart burn. But whoever rides on the name, its blessings reach his whole clan and its benefits extend to his neighborhood, to say nothing of his descendants.” “Yet all who pursue a name must be scrupulous, and scrupulousness means poverty; all who pursue a name must be yielding, and yielding means lowliness.” He said: “When Guan Zhong was chief minister of Qi, when his lord was licentious he too was licentious, when his lord was extravagant he too was extravagant. His will agreed with his lord's and his words were followed; his way prevailed and the state became overlord. But after his death, the Guan family was nothing more. When the Tian family were chief ministers of Qi, when the lord was grasping they were modest, when the lord was grasping they were generous. The people all turned to them, and so they came to possess the state of Qi; their descendants enjoy it and have not died out to this day. Thus a genuine name brings poverty, and a false name brings wealth.” He said: “What is genuine has no name, and a name has nothing genuine. A name is nothing but falseness. Long ago Yao and Shun falsely offered the world to Xu You and Shan Juan, yet did not lose the world, and enjoyed their reigns for a hundred years. Boyi and Shuqi genuinely declined the throne of Guzhu, and in the end lost their state and starved to death on Mount Shouyang. The distinction between the genuine and the false is as plain as this.”
Yang Zhu said: “A hundred years is the utmost limit of a lifespan, and not one in a thousand reaches a hundred. Suppose there is one who does: infancy in arms and senile old age take up nearly half of it. What is wiped out by sleep at night and wasted while awake by day takes up nearly half of the rest. Pain and sickness, grief and suffering, loss, worry, and fear take up nearly half of what remains. In the dozen or so years that are left, the time when one is at ease and content with no care at all does not amount to a single hour. Then what is human life for? What joy is there in it? It is for fine food and rich clothing, for music and women. But fine food and rich clothing cannot always satisfy us, music and women cannot always be enjoyed. And then we are held back or urged on by punishments and rewards, pushed forward or pulled back by reputation and law; we anxiously compete for the empty praise of a moment and plan for glory to outlast our death; we go about alone and hunched, heeding what our eyes and ears see and hear, and fretting over the rights and wrongs of our bodies and minds. We lose in vain the greatest joys of our years and cannot give ourselves free rein for a single moment. How is this different from a prisoner in heavy chains and double fetters? The people of high antiquity knew that life comes for a short while and that death goes for a short while. So they acted as their hearts moved them and did not go against what is so of itself in their likings; the enjoyments of their own lives they did not give up, and so they were not urged on by reputation. They followed their nature in their wanderings and did not go against what the myriad things loved; a name after death was not something they sought, and so punishment did not reach them. Fame and precedence, the length of their years, were not things they weighed.”
Yang Zhu said: “What makes the myriad things different is life; what makes them the same is death. In life there are the worthy and the foolish, the noble and the lowly; this is where they differ. In death there is the stench and rot, the decay and disappearance; this is where they are the same. But being worthy or foolish, noble or lowly, is not within our power, and neither is stench and rot, decay and disappearance. So the living do not make themselves live, nor the dead make themselves die; the worthy do not make themselves worthy, nor the foolish make themselves foolish; the noble do not make themselves noble, nor the lowly make themselves lowly. Thus the myriad things are equal in life and equal in death, equal in worth and equal in folly, equal in nobility and equal in lowliness. At ten years one dies, at a hundred years one dies; the benevolent and the sage die, the wicked and the foolish die. Alive, they are Yao and Shun; dead, they are rotting bones. Alive, they are Jie and Zhou; dead, they are rotting bones. Rotting bones are all one; who can tell them apart? Let us hurry to enjoy life while we have it; why trouble about what comes after death?”
Yang Zhu said: “Boyi was not without desires; he went too far in prizing his purity, and so starved to death. Zhan Ji was not without passions; he went too far in prizing his chastity, and so his line dwindled. See how purity and chastity mislead the good!”
Yang Zhu said: “Yuan Xian was poor in Lu; Zigong grew rich in Wei. Yuan Xian's poverty harmed his life; Zigong's wealth burdened his body.” “Then poverty will not do, and wealth will not do either; what will do?” He said: “What will do is to enjoy life; what will do is to ease the body. So those who are good at enjoying life are not poor, and those who are good at easing the body do not pile up wealth.”
Yang Zhu said: “There is an old saying: ‘While alive, care for one another; when dead, let one another go.’ This saying is perfect. The way to care for one another is not only a matter of feeling; it is to give ease to those who toil, food to the hungry, warmth to the cold, and success to those in hardship. The way to let one another go is not a lack of grief; it is to put no pearls or jade in the dead man's mouth, dress him in no embroidered brocade, lay out no sacrificial animals, and set out no grave goods. Yan Pingzhong asked Guan Yiwu about nurturing life. Guan Yiwu said: ‘Give it free rein, that is all; do not block it, do not obstruct it.’ Yan Pingzhong said: ‘What does that mean in detail?’ Yiwu said: ‘Let the ears hear what they wish to hear, let the eyes see what they wish to see, let the nose smell what it wishes to smell, let the mouth say what it wishes to say, let the body rest as it wishes to rest, let the mind do what it wishes to do. What the ears wish to hear is music, and not to be allowed to hear it is called obstructing hearing. What the eyes wish to see is beauty, and not to be allowed to see it is called obstructing sight. What the nose wishes to smell is pepper and orchid, and not to be allowed to smell them is called obstructing smell. What the mouth wishes to speak of is right and wrong, and not to be allowed to speak is called obstructing wisdom. What the body wishes for its comfort is fine food and rich clothing, and not to be allowed to have them is called obstructing ease. What the mind wishes to do is to be free and unrestrained, and not to be allowed to do it is called obstructing one's nature. All these obstructions are the chief causes of ruin and torment. To remove these chief causes of ruin and torment and wait for death contentedly, whether for a day, a month, a year, or ten years—this is what I call nurturing life. To cling to these chief causes of ruin and torment, holding on to them and never letting go, and so live long in misery, whether for a hundred years, a thousand years, or ten thousand years—this is not what I call nurturing life.’ Guan Yiwu said: ‘Now that I have told you about nurturing life, what about sending off the dead?’ Yan Pingzhong said: ‘Sending off the dead is a simple matter; what can I tell you?’ Guan Yiwu said: ‘I really want to hear it.’ Pingzhong said: ‘Once I am dead, what has it to do with me? Burn me, or sink me in water, or bury me, or leave me exposed, or wrap me in brushwood and throw me into a ditch, or dress me in a ceremonial robe and embroidered skirt and lay me in a stone coffin—whatever happens is fine.’ Guan Yiwu turned to Bao Shu and Huangzi and said: ‘As for the way of life and death, the two of us have gone as far as it goes.’”
Zichan was chief minister of Zheng and had sole control of the government of the state. After three years the good submitted to his reforms and the wicked feared his prohibitions; the state of Zheng was well governed, and the feudal lords were in awe of it. But he had an elder brother named Gongsun Chao and a younger brother named Gongsun Mu. Chao loved wine, and Mu loved women. In Chao's house a thousand zhong of wine were gathered, and the yeast was piled up into mounds; a hundred paces from his gate, the smell of dregs and liquor assailed one's nose. When he was sunk in drink, he did not know whether the times were safe or perilous, nor the regrets and troubles of human affairs, nor what was in his house and what was not, nor who among his nine degrees of kin were close and who distant, nor the joys and sorrows of survival and death. Even if water and fire, weapons and blades had met before him, he would not have noticed. In Mu's rear courtyard there were dozens of rooms side by side, all filled with young and pretty girls he had chosen. When he was sunk in women, he shut out his relatives and intimates, broke off with his friends, and hid away in his rear courtyard, turning day into night; he came out only once in three months, and still he was not satisfied. If there was a lovely maiden anywhere in the district, he would certainly bribe her to come or use a go-between to seduce her, and would not stop until he had her. Zichan grieved over this day and night, and secretly went to Deng Xi to consult him, saying: “I, Qiao, have heard that one cultivates oneself and extends it to one's family, governs one's family and extends it to the state; this means going from what is near to what is far. I have governed the state well, but my family is in disorder. Have I taken the way in reverse? What method can I use to save my two brothers? Please instruct me!” Deng Xi said: “I have wondered at it for a long time but did not dare to speak first. Why don't you choose a good time to set them right, explaining to them the importance of nature and life and enticing them with the honor of rites and righteousness?” Zichan took Deng Xi's advice. Finding an opportunity, he visited his brothers and told them: “What makes human beings nobler than birds and beasts is wisdom and forethought; what wisdom and forethought lead to is rites and righteousness. When rites and righteousness are fulfilled, fame and position will come. But if you act on your feelings and sink into your cravings and desires, your nature and life will be in danger. If you accept my words, you can repent in the morning and receive a salary by evening.” Chao and Mu said: “We have known this for a long time and made our choice long ago. Do we need to wait for your words to understand it? Life is hard to come by and death is easy to reach. With a life that is hard to come by, waiting for a death that is easy to reach, what is there to think about? To wish to honor rites and righteousness in order to show off to others, to distort our feelings and nature to win fame—we consider this worse than death. We wish to exhaust all the joys of a lifetime and all the pleasures of our years. Our only worry is that our bellies will overflow so that we cannot let our mouths drink freely, and that our strength will fail so that we cannot indulge our passions with women. We have no time to worry about a bad reputation or danger to our nature and life. And you, using your ability to govern the state to show off to the world, want to disturb our minds with your arguments and please our thoughts with glory and salary—is this not base and pitiful? And we want to explain the difference to you. When someone is good at governing what is outside, things are not necessarily well governed, while his own body suffers. When someone is good at governing what is inside, things are not necessarily in disorder, while his nature is at ease. With your governing of the outside, your methods may work for a while in one state, but they do not accord with people's hearts. With our governing of the inside, it could be extended to the whole world, and the way of rulers and ministers would come to an end. We have always wanted to teach you this art; would you instead teach us yours?” Zichan was at a loss and had no reply. Another day he told Deng Xi about it. Deng Xi said: “You have been living with Perfected men without knowing it; who says you are wise? The good order of the state of Zheng is mere chance; it is not your achievement.”
Duanmu Shu of Wei was a descendant of Zigong. Relying on the wealth left by his forebears, his family had amassed ten thousand pieces of gold. He paid no attention to worldly affairs and gave free rein to what he loved. Whatever the living desire to do, whatever human beings desire to enjoy, there was nothing he did not do and nothing he did not enjoy. His walls and houses, terraces and pavilions, parks and ponds, food and drink, carriages and clothes, music and concubines rivaled those of the rulers of Qi and Chu. Whatever his feelings desired, whatever his ears wished to hear, his eyes wished to see, or his mouth wished to taste, even from distant regions and remote lands, things not produced in the Central Land, he would always obtain, as though they were within his own garden walls. When he traveled, however rugged and perilous the mountains and rivers or long and distant the roads, he would always go, as though it were a mere few steps for others. The guests in his courtyard numbered a hundred every day; the fires never went out in his kitchen, and music never ceased in his halls and corridors. What was left over after his own needs, he distributed first among his clan; what was left over from his clan, he distributed next among his town and village; what was left over from his town and village, he distributed throughout the whole state. When he reached the age of sixty and his vigor was about to decline, he gave up the management of his household and gave away all his storehouses, treasures, carriages, clothes, and concubines. Within a year it was all gone, and he left no wealth for his descendants. When he fell ill, he had no store of medicines; when he died, he had no money for his burial. The people of the whole state who had received his gifts took up a collection together to bury him and gave back wealth to his descendants. Qin Guli heard of this and said: “Duanmu Shu was a madman; he disgraced his ancestor.” Duangan Sheng heard of it and said: “Duanmu Shu was a man of understanding; his virtue surpassed his ancestor's. What he did and how he acted astonished the common mind, but it was what true principle would choose. The gentlemen of Wei mostly hold themselves by the teachings of ritual; they certainly could not grasp this man's heart.”
Mengsun Yang asked Yang Zhu: “Suppose there is a man who prizes life and cherishes his body in the hope of not dying; is that possible?” He said: “By principle, nothing does not die.” “In the hope of living long—is that possible?” He said: “By principle, nothing lives long. Life is not something that prizing it can preserve; the body is not something that cherishing it can enrich. And besides, what is the use of living long? The likes and dislikes of the five emotions are the same now as in ancient times; the safety and danger of the four limbs are the same now as in ancient times; the sufferings and joys of worldly affairs are the same now as in ancient times; the changes of order and disorder are the same now as in ancient times. Having heard it all, seen it all, and been through it all, one grows weary of it even at a hundred years—how much more with the misery of a long life?” Mengsun Yang said: “If that is so, then a quick death is better than a long life, and one should tread on sharp blades or leap into boiling water and fire to get what one wants.” Master Yang said: “Not so. Once born, let go and leave it be; follow through what it desires, and wait for death. When about to die, let go and leave it be; follow through where it goes, and let it run to its end. If there is nothing you do not let go and nothing you do not leave be, why worry about sooner or later in between?”
Yang Zhu said: “Bocheng Zigao would not use a single hair to benefit things; he left his state and lived in seclusion as a farmer. Yu the Great would not use his own body for his own benefit, and half his body became withered. The people of ancient times would not give up one hair to benefit the world, nor would they take the whole world to serve their own person. If no one gave up a single hair and no one benefited the world, the world would be in good order.” Qinzi asked Yang Zhu: “If you could save the whole world by giving up one hair from your body, would you do it?” Master Yang said: “The world certainly cannot be saved by one hair.” Qinzi said: “Supposing it could, would you do it?” Master Yang did not answer. Qinzi went out and told Mengsun Yang. Mengsun Yang said: “You do not understand the Master's heart; let me explain. If someone offered you ten thousand pieces of gold for hurting your skin, would you do it?” He said: “I would.” Mengsun Yang said: “If someone offered you a state for cutting off one of your limbs, would you do it?” Qinzi was silent for a while. Mengsun Yang said: “A hair is less than skin, and skin is less than a limb; that is clear. Yet hairs accumulate to make skin, and skin accumulates to make a limb. A single hair is certainly one of the ten thousand parts of the body; how can you make light of it?” Qinzi said: “I cannot answer you. But if you put your words to Lao Dan and Guanyin, the Keeper of the Pass, they would say you are right; if I put my words to Yu the Great and Mo Di, they would say I am right.” At this Mengsun Yang turned to his followers and talked of other matters.
Yang Zhu said: “The world credits all goodness to Shun, Yu, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius, and all evil to Jie and Zhou. Yet Shun plowed on the north bank of the Yellow River and made pottery at Leize; his four limbs never had a moment's rest, and his mouth and belly never had fine food. His parents did not love him, and his younger brother and sister were not close to him. At thirty he married without informing his parents. By the time he received the throne from Yao, he was old and his wits had declined. His son Shangjun was without talent, so he abdicated in favor of Yu, and he lived in sorrow until he died. He was the most wretched and afflicted of the men of heaven. Gun regulated the waters and the land, but his work was not completed, and he was executed on Mount Yu. Yu took up his father's work and served his father's enemy, devoting himself entirely to work on the land. When his son was born he did not give him a name; he passed his own gate without going in. Half his body became withered, and his hands and feet were thick with calluses. When he received the throne from Shun, he kept his palace humble and made only his ceremonial robes and cap fine, and he lived in sorrow until he died. He was the most anxious and toiling of the men of heaven. After King Wu died and King Cheng was young and weak, the Duke of Zhou took over the government of the Son of Heaven. The Duke of Shao was displeased, and rumors spread through the four states. The Duke of Zhou lived in the east for three years; he executed his elder brother and banished his younger brother, barely escaping with his own life, and lived in sorrow until he died. He was the most endangered and fearful of the men of heaven. Confucius understood the way of the emperors and kings and answered the invitations of the rulers of his time. The tree he rested under was cut down in Song, his tracks were wiped out in Wei, he was reduced to straits in Shang and Zhou, he was besieged between Chen and Cai, he was humbled by the Ji family and insulted by Yang Hu, and he lived in sorrow until he died. He was the most harried and hurried of the people of heaven. These four sages never had a single day of joy while alive, and after death they have had a name for ten thousand generations. A name is certainly not what the reality would choose. Praise them, and they do not know it; reward them, and they do not know it; they are no different from stumps and clods. Jie inherited the wealth of many generations and sat in the honored seat facing south. His wisdom was enough to hold off all his subjects, and his power enough to make all within the seas tremble. He indulged in whatever pleased his eyes and ears and did whatever his mind could think of, and was merry until he died. He was the most carefree and dissolute of the people of heaven. Zhou likewise inherited the wealth of many generations and sat in the honored seat facing south. His power prevailed everywhere and his will was obeyed in everything. He gave free rein to his passions in his lofty palace and indulged his desires through the long nights; he did not trouble himself with rites and righteousness, and was merry until he was executed. He was the most unrestrained of the people of heaven. These two villains had the joy of following their desires while they lived, and after death bore the name of fools and tyrants. The reality is certainly not what the name confers. Revile them, and they do not know it; praise them, and they do not know it. How are they different from stumps and clods? Though all goodness is credited to the four sages, they suffered until the end and went the same way, to death. Though all evil is credited to the two villains, they enjoyed themselves until the end and also went the same way, to death.”
Yang Zhu went to see the king of Liang and said that governing the world was as easy as turning something in the palm of his hand. The king of Liang said: “You have one wife and one concubine and cannot manage them, and a garden of three mu that you cannot weed, yet you say that governing the world is as easy as turning something in the palm of your hand. Why?” He replied: “Has Your Majesty seen a shepherd? A flock of a hundred sheep, with a boy five chi tall carrying a whip following behind; when he wants them to go east they go east, and when he wants them to go west they go west. If Yao led one sheep and Shun followed behind with a whip, they could not make it go forward. Moreover, I have heard that fish big enough to swallow a boat do not swim in the side streams, and swans flying high do not settle on muddy ponds. Why? Because their aims are far away. The great pitches Huangzhong and Dalü cannot accompany dances of fussy rhythm. Why? Because their tones are broad and spacious. One who would govern the great does not govern the small; one who would accomplish great deeds does not accomplish small ones. That is what I mean.”
Yang Zhu said: “The affairs of high antiquity have vanished; who has recorded them? The affairs of the Three Sovereigns seem to remain and seem to be lost; the affairs of the Five Emperors seem like waking and seem like a dream; the affairs of the Three Kings are some hidden and some evident, and not one in a hundred million is known. The affairs of our own times are some heard and some seen, and not one in ten thousand is known. The affairs before our eyes are some preserved and some lost, and not one in a thousand is known. The years from high antiquity to the present day certainly cannot be counted. Yet in just the more than three hundred thousand years since Fuxi, the worthy and the foolish, the fair and the ugly, success and failure, right and wrong have all without exception vanished; the only difference is whether sooner or later. To care about the blame and praise of a moment, burning and tormenting one's spirit and body, in order to win a lingering name for a few hundred years after death—how can that moisten dry bones? What joy is there in such a life?”
Yang Zhu said: “Humans resemble heaven and earth in kind and hold within them the nature of the five constant virtues; they are the most spiritually endowed of living things. Yet their nails and teeth are not enough for defense, their skin is not enough to protect them, their running is not fast enough to seek gain and flee harm, and they have no fur or feathers to ward off cold and heat. They must depend on things to sustain themselves, relying on wisdom rather than on strength. Therefore what wisdom values is preserving oneself, and what strength scorns is encroaching on things. Yet the body is not our own possession; once born, we cannot but keep it whole. Things are not our own possession; once we have them, we cannot get rid of them. The body is certainly the master of life, and things are the masters of its sustenance. Though we keep life whole, we may not claim the body as our own; though we do not get rid of things, we may not claim things as our own. To claim things as one's own and the body as one's own is to usurp for oneself a body that belongs to the world and things that belong to the world. Only the sage does not usurp for himself a body that belongs to the world or things that belong to the world! Only the Ultimate Man treats the body of the world as public and the things of the world as public! This is what is called the utmost of the utmost.”
Yang Zhu said: “The reason people cannot rest is four things: first, long life; second, reputation; third, position; fourth, goods. Those who have these four fear ghosts, fear men, fear power, and fear punishment. These are called fugitives. They may be killed or may live; the control of their destiny lies outside them. If one does not go against destiny, why covet long life? If one does not prize nobility, why covet reputation? If one does not seek power, why covet position? If one is not greedy for riches, why covet goods? These are called people who go along. There is nothing in the world to oppose them; the control of their destiny lies within them. So there is a saying: if people did not marry or take office, half their passions and desires would be gone; if people did not need clothing and food, the way of ruler and minister would come to an end. A Zhou proverb says: ‘A farmer can be killed by sitting him down.’ He goes out at dawn and comes in at night and thinks this is the constant of his nature; he sips bean soup and eats bean leaves and thinks this is the finest of flavors. His flesh is coarse and thick, his sinews and joints tough and tight. If one morning he were placed among soft furs and silk curtains and served fine grain, meat, orchids, and oranges, his heart would be troubled and his body uneasy, his insides would grow feverish, and he would fall ill. If the rulers of Shang and Lu were put on the same land as the farmer, they too would be exhausted in less than an hour. Thus what the rustic finds comfortable and what the rustic finds delicious he says nothing in the world can surpass. Long ago in the state of Song there was a farmer who always wore coarse hemp and barely got through the winter. When spring came and he started work in the eastern fields, he warmed himself in the sun, not knowing that the world had great mansions and warm rooms, silk floss and fox and badger furs. He turned to his wife and said: ‘No one knows about the warmth of the sun on one's back. If I present it to our lord, I shall get a great reward.’ A rich man of the village told him: ‘Long ago there was a man who thought beans, hemp stalks, celery, and duckweed delicious, and praised them to the local magnates. The magnates took some and tasted them; they stung their mouths and pained their bellies, and everyone laughed at him and blamed him. The man was deeply ashamed. You are of the same kind.’”
Yang Zhu said: “A fine house, beautiful clothes, rich food, and lovely women—if one has these four, what more should one seek outside? One who has these and still seeks outside has an insatiable nature. An insatiable nature is a worm that eats away at yin and yang. Loyalty is not enough to make the ruler secure; it is only enough to endanger oneself. Righteousness is not enough to benefit things; it is only enough to harm one's life. If making superiors secure does not come from loyalty, then the name of loyalty disappears; if benefiting things does not come from righteousness, then the name of righteousness dies out. For ruler and minister both to be secure, and for things and self both to benefit—this was the way of the ancients. Yuzi said: ‘One who discards his name has no worries.’ Laozi said: ‘Name is the guest of reality.’ Yet the multitudes chase after names without end. Is it that a name really cannot be discarded, that a name really cannot be treated as a mere guest? Nowadays, to have a name is to be honored and glorious, and to have none is to be humble and disgraced. To be honored and glorious is to have ease and pleasure; to be humble and disgraced is to have worry and suffering. Worry and suffering go against one's nature; ease and pleasure accord with one's nature. This is what the reality depends on. How can a name be discarded? How can a name be treated as a mere guest? What is hateful is only holding on to a name at the expense of reality. One who holds on to a name at the expense of reality will have to worry about danger and ruin beyond saving—not merely about the difference between ease and pleasure, worry and suffering!”