The Old Fisherman

The Old Fisherman

Youzi wandered in the forest of Zhiwei, and rested beneath the Apricot Altar. His disciples were reading their books, while Youzi strummed his zither and sang, beating time on the qin. Before the piece was half finished, there came an old fisherman, who descended from his boat and approached, his beard and brows white and mingled, his hair disheveled, his sleeves pushed back. He crossed the plain and climbed up to the higher ground, then stopped. His left hand resting on his knee, his right hand propping his chin, he listened. When the piece was finished, he beckoned to Zigong and Zilu, and the two came forward to face him.

The stranger pointed at Youzi and asked: "What manner of man is that?"

Zilu replied: "A gentleman of Lu."

The stranger asked his clan. Zilu said: "The Kong clan."

"And what does this Kong concern himself with?" asked the stranger.

Zilu did not answer. Zigong spoke up: "This Kong—in his nature he cleaves to loyalty and good faith; in his conduct he practices benevolence and rightness. He adorns himself with ritual and music, he orders the relationships between men. Above, he is loyal to the lords of the age; below, he transforms the common people. He seeks to bring benefit to all under Heaven. This is what Kong devises himself to."

The stranger asked again: "Is he a lord who possesses territory?"

Zigong said: "No."

"Is he an assistant to a marquis or king?"

Zigong said: "No."

The stranger then smiled and turned away, muttering as he walked: "Benevolent he may be, benevolent indeed—but I fear he will not preserve his own person. His mind labored, his body wearied, he endangers his authentic nature. Alas, how far he is from the Way! How far he is from the Way!"

Zigong returned and reported to Youzi. Youzi pushed aside his zither and rose. "Could he be a sage?" he said. He went down in search of him, and found him by the marsh. The old man was just taking up his pole to push off his boat. Catching sight of Youzi, he turned back and stood facing him. Youzi retreated, bowed twice, and advanced.

The stranger said: "What do you seek?"

Youzi said: "A moment ago, you departed with some unfinished words. I am dull and did not understand what you meant. Humbly I waited below, hoping to hear the sound of your voice, however faint, so that you might complete my instruction."

The stranger said: "Ha! How exceedingly you love learning!"

Youzi bowed twice and rose. "From youth I have cultivated learning, and now I am sixty-nine years old, yet I have gained nothing. Hearing your most profound teaching, how dare I not receive it with an open mind?"

The stranger said: "Like follows like, the same sound responds to the same sound—this is the fixed principle of Heaven. I will lay out what I possess and apply it to your condition. What you concern yourself with is human affairs. When the Son of Heaven, the feudal lords, the great officers, and the common people each correct themselves, that is the perfection of good order. When these four leave their proper stations, no disorder is greater than that. When officials fulfill their duties and men attend to their tasks, there is nothing overstepped. When fields lie waste and houses are exposed, when food and clothing are insufficient, when taxes and levies go unpaid, when wives and concubines are at odds, when old and young are without proper order—these are the anxieties of the common man. When one cannot fulfill his office and duties go unadministered, when conduct lacks purity and clarity, when subordinates are idle and lax, when merit and excellence are lacking, when rank and emoluments are not maintained—these are the anxieties of the great officer. When the court lacks loyal ministers, when the state is in darkness and confusion, when craftsmanship is unskilled, when tribute and offerings are not excellent, when precedence in the seasons is disrupted and the Son of Heaven is not obeyed—these are the anxieties of the feudal lords. When yin and yang are not in harmony, when cold and heat do not come at their proper times, so that all living things are harmed, when feudal lords rise in violence and attack one another, maiming the people, when ritual and music are not measured, when wealth and resources are exhausted, when human relationships are not regulated and the people sink into disorder—these are the anxieties of the Son of Heaven and his officers. Now you, sir, above have no power of lord or officer, below have no office of minister or official, and yet you presume to adorn ritual and music, to order the relationships between men, to transform the common people—is that not vastly overreaching? Moreover, men have eight faults, and affairs have four afflictions—these must not be left unexamined.

"To attend to what is not one's affair as though it were—this is called presumption. To advance oneself when no one heeds—this is called sycophancy. To anticipate the other's intention and guide one's words accordingly—this is called flattery. To speak without distinguishing right from wrong—this is called fawning. To delight in speaking of others' failings—this is called slander. To sever friendships and estrange kin—this is called treachery. To praise fraudulent and false men in order to bring down those one hates—this is called malice. To take no account of good or bad, showing a smooth face to both, covertly advancing one's own desires—this is called dangerousness. These eight faults disorder others outwardly and injure oneself within. The gentleman does not befriend such men; the enlightened ruler does not employ them as ministers.

"As for the four afflictions: to undertake great enterprises, altering and changing what is constant, in order to hang one's name on merit—this is called greed. To monopolize knowledge and manage affairs alone, encroaching on others and using them for oneself—this is called avarice. To see one's errors and not correct them, and to grow worse when admonished—this is called obstinacy. To approve only when others agree with oneself, and when they differ, to regard even the good as not good—this is called pride. These are the four afflictions. Only when one can put away the eight faults and practice nothing that falls under the four afflictions can one begin to be taught."

Youzi's expression changed gravely, and he sighed. Bowing twice, he rose and said: "I was twice driven out of Lu, my footprints were erased in Wei, my trees were felled in Song, and I was besieged in Chen and Cai. I do not know what fault I committed that brought upon me these four calumnies. Why was it so?"

The stranger's face grew sorrowful. "How very difficult you are to instruct!" he said. "There was a man who feared his shadow and hated his footprints, and tried to flee from them. The more often he lifted his foot, the more footprints he left; the faster he ran, yet his shadow never left him. He thought he was still too slow, and ran on and on without rest, until he died of exhaustion. He did not know that by seeking the shade he could put his shadow to rest, and by remaining still he could make his footprints cease. How great was his folly! You, sir, have examined the boundaries of benevolence and rightness, you have scrutinized the border of the same and the different, you have observed the transformations of movement and stillness, you have gauged the measure of receiving and giving, you have ordered the feelings of love and hate, you have harmonized the seasons of pleasure and anger—and yet you have nearly failed to preserve yourself! Diligently cultivate your own person, carefully guard your authentic nature, return to things and give to others, and you will be free from all entanglement. Now you do not cultivate yourself, yet you seek it in others—is that not a turning outward?"

Kongzi's expression changed, and he said, "May I ask: what is meant by the Genuine?"

The stranger said: "The Genuine is the ultimate of purity and sincerity. Without purity and sincerity, one cannot move others. Thus, one who forces tears may grieve but lacks sorrow. One who forces anger may look stern but lacks authority. One who forces affection may smile but lacks harmony. Genuine sorrow—unspoken, yet sorrowful. Genuine anger—unexpressed, yet commanding. Genuine affection—unsmiling, yet harmonious. When the Genuine resides within, the spirit moves without—this is why the Genuine is valued.

"As applied to the principles of human relations: serving parents brings filial devotion; serving a ruler brings loyalty and integrity; drinking wine brings joy; mourning brings grief. Loyalty and integrity aim chiefly at accomplishment; drinking wine aims chiefly at pleasure; mourning aims chiefly at grief; serving parents aims chiefly at their ease. The beauty of accomplished deeds leaves no single trace. Serving parents to give them ease requires no justification. Drinking wine for pleasure requires no choice of vessels. Mourning for grief requires no concern for ritual. Ritual is the contrivance of the worldly. The Genuine is what we receive from Heaven—it is natural and cannot be altered. Thus the sage models Heaven and honors the Genuine, not being constrained by convention. The foolish do the opposite: they cannot model Heaven and are anxious about others; they do not know to honor the Genuine, and busily they are changed by convention—hence they are never satisfied. Alas! You were steeped early in human artifice and have heard of the Great Way only late!"

Kongzi bowed twice and rose, saying: "Today I, Qiu, have encountered this—it is as though Heaven has granted me good fortune. Sir, you do not disdain me, but place yourself among my followers and teach me in person. May I ask where you dwell? I beg to receive instruction and to study the Great Way to its completion."

The stranger said: "I have heard: 'With those who can go forward, lead them to the wondrous Way. With those who cannot go forward, not understanding the Way—take care not to lead them, and you yourself will be without blame.' Strive, my good man! I leave you now, I leave you now!" He pushed his boat away and drifted among the reeds.

Yan Yuan turned the carriage around. Zilu handed the mounting strap. Kongzi did not look back. He waited until the ripples on the water had stilled and the sound of the oars could no longer be heard before he dared to mount.

Zilu, standing beside the carriage, said: "I, You, have long served you, yet I have never seen you show such deference to anyone. Lords of ten thousand chariots and rulers of a thousand chariots—when they meet you, they never fail to receive you with equal ceremony, and yet you still maintained an aloof demeanor. Now this Fisherman stood facing you with his oar, and you bowed at your waist like a chime-stone, speaking and bowing twice in response. Was this not going too far? All your disciples find it strange. How did this Fisherman deserve such treatment?"

Kongzi leaned on the carriage rail and sighed, saying: "You, You, are truly difficult to transform! You have been steeped in ritual and righteousness for some time now, yet your coarse and vulgar heart has still to this day not been put away. Come forward—let me tell you. To encounter an elder and fail to show respect is to violate ritual. To meet a worthy and fail to show reverence is to lack benevolence. If he were not a man of the highest order, he could not bring himself to be humble before others. But if that humility lacks purity, he does not attain the Genuine—and so he brings lasting harm to himself. Alas! Among the harms that befall people, none is greater than a lack of benevolence—and you, You, alone cling to it! Moreover, the Way is that by which all things proceed. If the myriad things lose it, they die; if they have it, they live. In all undertakings, to go against it is to fail; to follow it is to succeed. Therefore, wherever the Way resides, the sage honors it. Now this Fisherman—in regard to the Way, he may truly be said to possess it. How dare I not show him respect?"