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《自紀篇》
王充者、會稽上虞人也，字仲任。其先本魏郡元城（一姓）〔人〕。孫一幾世嘗從軍有功，封會稽陽亭。一歲倉卒國絕，因家焉，以農桑為業。
世祖勇任氣，卒咸不揆於人。歲凶，橫道傷殺，怨讎眾多。會世擾亂，恐為怨讎所擒，祖父汎舉家檐載，就安會稽，留錢唐縣，以賈販為事。生子二人，長曰蒙，少曰誦，誦即充父。
祖世任氣，至蒙、誦滋甚，故蒙、誦在錢唐，勇勢凌人。末復與豪家丁伯等結怨，舉家徙處上虞。
建武三年，充生。為小兒，與儕倫遨戲，不好狎侮。儕倫好掩雀、捕蟬、戲錢、林熙，充獨不肯。誦奇之。
六歲教書，恭愿仁順，禮敬具備，矜莊寂寥，有（臣）〔巨〕人之志。父未嘗笞，母未嘗非，閭里未嘗讓。八歲出於書館，
書館小僮百人以上，皆以過失袒謫，或以書醜得鞭。充書日進，又無過失。
手書既成，辭師受《論語》、《尚書》，日諷千字。經明德就，謝師而專門，援筆而眾奇。所讀文書，亦日博多。才高而不尚苟作，
口辯而不好談對，非其人，終日不言。其論說始若詭於眾，極聽其終，眾乃是之。以筆著文，亦如此焉；操行事上，亦如此焉。
在縣位至掾功曹，在都尉府位亦掾功曹，在太守為列掾五官功曹行事，入州為從事。不好徼名於世，不為利害見將。常言人長，
希言人短。專薦未達，解已進者過。及所不善，亦弗譽；有過不解，亦弗復陷。能釋人之大過，亦悲夫人之細非。好自周，不肯自彰，勉以行操為基，
恥以材能為名。
眾會乎坐，不問不言；賜見君將，不及不對。在鄉里，慕蘧伯玉之節；在朝廷，貪史子魚之行。
見汙傷，不肯自明；位不進，亦不懷恨。貧無一畝庇身，志佚於王公；賤無斗石之秩，意若食萬鍾。得官不欣，失位不恨。處逸樂而欲不放，居貧苦而志不倦。淫讀古文，甘聞異言。世書俗說，
多所不安，幽處獨居，考論實虛。
充為人清重，遊必擇友，不好苟交。所友位雖微卑，年雖幼稚，行苟離俗，必與之友。好傑友雅徒，不氾結俗材。俗材因其微過，
蜚條陷之，然終不自明，亦不非怨其人。
或曰：「有良材奇文，無罪見陷，胡不自陳？羊勝之徒，摩口膏舌；鄒陽自明，入獄復出。苟有全完之行，不宜為人所缺；既耐勉自伸，
不宜為人所屈。」
荅曰：不清不見塵，不高不見危，不廣不見削，不盈不見虧。士茲多口，為人所陷，蓋亦其宜。好進故自明，憎退故自陳。吾無好憎，
故默無言。
羊勝為讒，或使之也；鄒陽得免，或拔之也。孔子稱命，孟子言天，吉凶安危，不在於人。昔人見之，故歸之於命，委之於時，
浩然恬忽，無所怨尤。福至不謂己所得，禍到不謂己所為。故時進意不為豐，時退志不為虧。不嫌虧以求盈，不違險以趨平；不鬻智以干祿，
不辭爵以弔名；不貪進以自明，不惡退以怨人。同安危而齊死生，鈞吉凶而一敗成，遭十羊勝，謂之無傷。動歸於天，故不自明。
充性恬澹，不貪富貴。為上所知，拔擢越次，不慕高官。不為上所知，貶黜抑屈，不恚下位。比為縣吏，無所擇避。
或曰：「心難而行易，好友同志，仕不擇地，濁操傷行，世何效放？」
荅曰：可效放者，莫過孔子。孔子之仕，無所避矣。為乘田、委吏，無於邑之心；為司空相國，無說豫之色。舜耕歷山，若終不免；
及受堯禪，若卒自得。憂德之不豐，不患爵之不尊；恥名之不白，不惡位之不遷。垂棘與瓦同櫝，明月與礫同囊，苟有二寶之質，不害為世所同。
世能知善，雖賤猶顯；不能別白，雖尊猶辱。處卑與尊齊操，位賤與貴比德，斯可矣。
俗性貪進忽退，收成棄敗。充升擢在位之時，眾人蟻附；廢退窮居，舊故叛去。志俗人之寡恩，故閑居作《譏俗節義》十二篇。
冀俗人觀書而自覺，故直露其文，集以俗言。或譴謂之淺。荅曰：以聖典而示小雅，以雅言而說丘野，不得所曉，無不逆者。故蘇秦精說於趙，
而李兌不說；商鞅以王說秦，而孝公不用。夫不得心意所欲，雖盡堯、舜之言，猶飲牛以酒，啖馬以脯也。故鴻麗深懿之言，關於大而不通於小。
不得已而強聽，入胸者少。
孔子失馬於野，野人閉不與；子貢妙稱而怒，馬圄諧說而（懿）〔〕。
俗曉〔形〕露之言，勉以深鴻之文，猶和神仙之藥以治齀欬，制貂狐之裘以取薪菜也。且禮有所不偫，事有所不須。斷決知辜，
不必皋陶；調和葵韭，不俟狄牙；閭巷之樂，不用《韶》、《武》；里母之祀，不待太牢。既有不須，而又不宜。
牛刀割雞，舒戟采葵，鈇鉞裁箸，盆盎酌卮，大小失宜，善之者希。何以為辯？喻深以淺。何以為智？喻難以易。賢聖銓材之所宜，
故文能為深淺之差。
充既疾俗情，作《譏俗》之書；又閔人君之政，徒欲治人，不得其宜，不曉其務，愁精苦思，不睹所趨，故作《政務》之書。
又傷偽書俗文多不實誠，故為《論衡》之書。
夫賢聖歿而大義分，蹉跎殊趨，各自開門。通人觀覽，不能（釘）〔訂〕銓。遙聞傳授，筆寫耳取，在百歲之前。歷日彌久，
以為昔古之事，所言近是，信之入骨，不可自解，故作實論。
其文盛，其辯爭，浮華虛偽之語，莫不（澄）〔證〕定。沒華虛之文，存敦厖之朴；撥流失之風，反宓戲之俗。
充書形露易觀。或曰：「口辯者其言深，筆敏者其文沉。案經藝之文、賢聖之言，鴻重優雅，難卒曉睹。世讀之者，訓古乃下。
蓋賢聖之材鴻，故其文語與俗不通。玉隱石間，珠匿魚腹，非玉工珠師，莫能采得。寶物以隱閉不見，實語亦宜深沉難測。
《譏俗》之書，欲悟俗人，故形露其指，為分別之文；《論衡》之書，何為復然？豈材有淺極，不能為〔深〕覆？何文之察，
與彼經藝殊軌轍也？」
荅曰：玉隱石間，珠匿魚腹，故為深覆。及玉色剖於石心，珠光出於魚腹，其〔猶〕隱乎？（猶）吾文未集於簡札之上，
藏於胸臆之中，猶玉隱珠匿也。及出荴露，猶玉剖珠出乎！爛若天文之照，順若地理之曉，嫌疑隱微，盡可名處。
且名白，事自定也。《論衡》者、論之平也。
口則務在明言，筆則務在露文。高士之文雅，言無不可曉，指無不可睹。觀讀之者，曉然若盲之開目，聆然若聾之通耳。三年盲子，
卒見父母，不察察相識，安肯說喜？
道畔巨樹，塹邊長溝，所居昭察，人莫不知。使樹不巨而隱，溝不長而匿，以斯示人，堯、舜猶惑。
人面色部七十有餘，頰股明潔，五色分別，隱微憂喜，皆可得察，占射之者，十不失一。使面黝而黑醜，垢重襲而覆部，占射之者，
十而失九。
夫文由語也，或淺露分別，或深迂優雅，孰為辯者？
故口言以明志，言恐滅遺，故著之文字。文字與言同趨，何為猶當隱閉指意？
獄當嫌辜，卿決疑事，渾沌難曉，與彼分明可知，孰為良吏？
夫口論以分明為公，筆辯以荴露為通，吏文以昭察為良。深覆典雅，指意難，唯賦頌耳。
經傳之文，賢聖之語，古今言殊，四方談異也。當言事時，非務難知，使指〔意〕閉隱也。後人不曉，世相離遠，此名曰語異，不名曰材鴻。淺文讀之難曉，
名曰不巧，不名曰知明。
秦始皇讀韓非之書，嘆曰：「猶獨不得此人同時。」其文可曉，故其事可思。如深鴻優雅，須師乃學，投之於地，何嘆之有？
夫筆著者，欲其易曉而難為，不貴難知而易造，口論務解分而可聽，不務深迂而難睹。孟子相賢，以眸子明瞭者；察文，以義可曉。
充書違詭於俗。或難曰：
「文貴夫順合眾心，不違人意，百人讀之莫譴，千人聞之莫怪。故管子曰：『言室滿室，言堂滿堂。』今殆說不與世同，
故文（剌）〔刺〕於俗，不合於眾。」
荅曰：論貴是而不務華，事尚然而不高合。論說辯然否，安得不譎常心、逆俗耳？眾心非而不從，故喪黜其偽，
而存定其真。如當從眾、順人心者，循舊守雅，諷習而已，何辯之有？
孔子侍坐於魯哀公，公賜桃與黍，孔子先食黍而〔後〕啖桃，可謂得食序矣，
然左右皆掩口而笑，貫俗之日久也。今吾實猶孔子之序食也，俗人違之，猶左右之掩口也。
善雅歌，於鄭為（人）〔不〕悲；禮舞，於趙為不好。
堯、舜之典，伍伯不肯觀；孔、墨之籍，季、孟不肯讀。寧危之計，
黜於閭巷；撥世之言，訾於品俗。有美味於斯，俗人不嗜，狄牙甘食。有寶玉於是，俗人投之，卞和佩服。孰是孰非？可信者誰？禮俗相背，
何世不然？魯文逆祀，〔去者三人〕；〔定公順祀〕，畔者五人。
蓋（猶）〔獨〕是之語，高士不舍，俗夫不好；惑眾之書，賢者欣頌，愚者逃頓。
充書不能純美。或曰：「口無擇言，筆無擇文。文必麗以好，言必辯以巧。言瞭於耳，則事味於心；文察於目，則篇留於手。
故辯言無不聽，麗文無不寫。今新書既在論譬，說俗為戾，又不美好，於觀不快。蓋師曠調音，曲無不悲；狄牙和膳，肴無澹味。然則通人造書，文無瑕穢。
《呂氏》、《淮南》，懸於市門，觀讀之者，無訾一言。今無二書之美，文雖眾盛，猶多譴毀。」
荅曰：夫養實者不育華，調行者不飾辭。豐草多華英，茂林多枯枝。為文欲顯白其為，安能令文而無譴毀？救火拯溺，義不得好；
辯論是非，言不得巧。入澤隨龜，不暇調足；深淵捕蛟，不暇定手。
言姦辭簡，指趨妙遠；語甘文峭，務意淺小。稻穀千鍾，糠皮太半；閱錢滿億，穿決出萬。大羹必有澹味，至寶必有瑕穢，大簡必
有大好，良工必有不巧。然則辯言必有所屈，通文猶有所黜。
言金由貴家起，文糞自賤室出。《淮南》、《呂氏》之無累害，所由出者，家富官貴也。夫貴、故得懸於市，富、故有千金副。觀讀之者，惶恐畏忌，雖見乖不合，焉敢譴一字？
充書既成，或稽合於古，不類前人。或曰：「謂之飾文偶辭，或徑或迂，或屈或舒。謂之論道，實事委璅，文給甘酸，諧於經不驗，
集於傳不合，稽之子長不當，內之子雲不入。文不與前相似，安得名佳好、稱工巧？」
荅曰：飾貌以彊類者失形，調辭以務似者失情。百夫之子，不同父母，殊類而生，不必相似，各以所稟，自為佳好。
文必有與合然后稱善，是則代匠斲不傷手，然后稱工巧也。
文士之務，各有所從，或調辭以巧文，或辯偽以實事。必謀慮有合，文辭相襲，是則五帝不異事，三王不殊業也。美色不同面，皆佳於目；悲音不共聲，皆快於耳。酒醴異氣，飲之皆醉；百穀殊味，食之皆飽。謂文當與前合，是謂舜眉當復八采，禹目當復重瞳。
充書文重。或曰：「文貴約而指通，言尚省而趍明。
辯士之言要而達，文人之辭寡而章。今所作新書，出萬言，繁不省，
則讀者不能盡；篇非一，則傳者不能領。被躁人之名，以多為不善。語約易言，文重難得。玉少石多，多者不為珍；龍少魚眾，少者固為神。」
荅曰：有是言也。蓋寡言無多；而華文無寡。為世用者，百篇無害；不為用者，一章無補。如皆為用，則多者為上，少者為下。累積千金，
比於一百，孰為富者？
蓋文多勝寡，財（寡）〔富〕愈貧。世無一卷，吾有百篇；人無一字，吾有萬言，孰者為賢？
今不曰所言非，而云泰多；不曰世不好善，而云不能領，斯蓋吾書所以不得省也。夫宅舍多，土地不得小；戶口眾，簿籍不得少。
今失實之事多，華虛之語眾，指實定宜，辯爭之言，安得約徑？
韓非之書，一條無異，篇以十第，文以萬數。夫形大，衣不得褊；事眾，文不得褊。
事眾文饒，水大魚多。帝都穀多，王市肩磨。
書雖文重，所論百種。按古太公望，近董仲舒，傳作書篇百有餘，吾書亦纔出百，而云泰多，蓋謂所以出者微，觀讀之者不能不譴呵也。
河水沛沛，比夫眾川，孰者為大？蟲重厚，稱其出絲，孰為多者？
充仕數不耦，而徒著書自紀。或（虧）〔戲〕曰：
「所貴鴻材者，仕宦耦合，身容說納，事得功立，故為高也。今吾子涉世落魄，
仕數黜斥，材未練於事，力未盡於職，故徒幽思屬文，著記美言，何補於身？眾多欲以何趍乎？」
荅曰：材鴻莫過孔子。孔子才不容，斥逐，伐樹，接浙，見圍，削，困餓陳、蔡，門徒菜色。今吾材不逮孔子，不偶之厄，
未與之等，偏可輕乎？
且達者未必知，窮者未必愚。遇者則得，不遇失之。故夫命厚祿善，庸人尊顯；命薄祿惡，奇俊落魄。必以偶合稱材量德，
則夫專城食土者，材賢孔、墨。
身貴而名賤，則居潔而行墨，食千鍾之祿，無一長之德，乃可戲也。若夫德高而名白，官卑而祿泊，非才能之過，
未足以為累也。
士願與憲共廬，不慕與賜同衡；樂與夷俱旅，不貪與蹠比。高士所貴，不與俗均，故其名稱不與世同。身與草木俱朽，聲與日月並彰，
行與孔子比窮，文與楊雄為雙，吾榮之。身通而知困，官大而德細，於彼為榮，於我為累。
偶合容說，身尊體佚，百載之後，與物俱歿，名不流於一嗣，文不遺於一札，官雖傾倉，文德不豐，非吾所臧。德汪濊而淵懿，知滂沛而盈溢，筆瀧漉而雨集，言溶而泉出，富材羡知，貴行尊志，體列於一世，名傳於千載，乃吾所謂異也。
充細族孤門。或啁之曰：
「宗祖無淑懿之基，文墨無篇籍之遺，雖著鴻麗之論，無所稟階，終不為高。
夫氣無漸而卒至曰變，物無類而妄生曰異，不常有而忽見曰妖，詭於眾而突出曰怪。
吾子何祖？其先不載。況未嘗履墨涂，出儒門，吐論數千萬言，宜為妖變，安得寶斯文而多賢？」
荅曰：鳥無世鳳皇，獸無種麒麟，人無祖聖賢，物無常嘉珍。才高見屈，遭時而然。士貴故孤興，物貴故獨產。文孰常在有以放賢，
是則（澧）〔醴〕泉有故源，而嘉禾有舊根也。
屈奇之士見，倜儻之辭生，度不與俗協，庸（角）〔甬〕不能程。是故罕發之，記於牒籍；希出之物，勒於鼎銘。五帝不一世而起，
伊、望不同家而出。千里殊跡，百載異發。士貴雅材而慎興，不因高據以顯達。
母驪犢騂，無害犧牲；祖濁裔清，不牓奇人。鯀惡禹聖，叟頑舜神。伯牛寢疾，仲弓潔全。顏路庸固，回傑超倫。孔、墨祖愚，丘、翟聖賢。楊家不通，卓有子雲；桓氏稽可，遹出君山。更稟於元，故能著文。
充以元和三年徙家辟〔難〕，詣楊州部丹陽、九江、廬江。後入為治中，材小任大，職在（剌）〔刺〕割，筆札之思，歷年寢廢。
章和二年，罷州家居。年漸七十，時可懸輿。仕路隔絕，志窮無如。事有否然，身有利害。髮白齒落，日月踰邁，儔倫彌索，鮮所恃賴。貧無供養，志不娛快。
曆數冉冉，庚辛域際，雖懼終徂，愚猶沛沛，乃作《養性》之書凡十六篇。
養氣自守，適食則酒，閉明塞聰，愛精自保，適輔服藥引導，庶冀性命可延，斯須不老。
既晚無還，垂書示後。惟人性命，長短有期，
人亦蟲物，生死一時。年歷但（記）〔訖〕，孰使留之？猶入黃泉，消為土灰。上自黃、唐，下臻秦、漢而來，折衷以聖道，（）〔析〕理於通材，
如衡之平，如鑑之開，幼老生死古今，罔不詳該。命以不延，吁嘆悲哉！
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Chapter I. Autobiography. (Tse-chi).
Wang Ch`ung is a native of
Shang-yü-hsien1 in K`uei-chi2 . His style is
Chung Jên. His family hails from Yuan-ch`êng3 in the Wei4
circuit. One of his clan, Sun-yi, served his whole life
as a soldier, and distinguished himself so much, that he was appointed warden
of the southern part of K uei-chi, but, when one year a
disturbance broke out, which disorganised the State, he continued to reside
there, and became a farmer and cultivator of mulberry-trees.
His great grand-father was very bold and violent,
and, when in a passion, cared for nobody. In a year of dearth he behaved like a
ruffian, and wounded and killed people. Those whom he had wronged, and who were
waiting for an opportunity to wreak their vengeance, were very numerous. As in
K`uei-chi revolts were of constant occurrence, and there
was danger that his enemies would seize upon him, the grand-father
Fan removed his family and his household from
K`uei-chi, and settled in Ch`ien-t`ang-hsien,5 where he lived as a
merchant. He had two sons, the elder was called Mêng,
the younger Sung. Sung is the father of
Wang Ch`ung.
The grand-father had a violent temper, which in his
sons, Mêng and Sung, became so
intense, that many people in Ch`ien-t`ang had to suffer
from their vehemence. At last they became involved again in a feud with
Ting Po and other influential families, in consequence
of which they emigrated with their families to Shang-yü.
In the third year of Chien-wu,6Wang Ch`ung was
born. When playing with his companions, he disliked all frivolous games. His
comrades would entrap birds, catch cicadas, play for money, and gambol on
stilts. Wang Ch`ung alone declined to take part in their
games to the great amazement of his father.
At the age of six, he received his first
instruction, and learned to behave with politeness, honesty, benevolence,
obedience, propriety, and reverence. He was grave, earnest, and very quiet, and
had the will of a great man. His father never flogged him, his mother never
gave him a harsh word, and the neighbours never scolded him. When he was eight
years old, he went to school. There were over one hundred small boys in this
school. As a punishment for faults committed they used to be stripped, or were
whipped for bad writing. Wang Ch`ung made daily
progress, and never committed any offence.
When he could write sentences, his teacher
explained to him the Analects and the Shuking, of which he daily read a thousand characters. When
he knew the Classics, and his virtue had thus been developed, he left his
teacher, and devoted his private studies to writing and composing so, that
every one was astonished, and the extent of his reading widened day by day. But
he did not make bad use of his talents, and though he possessed great
dialectical skill, he was not fond of disputations. Unless he found the proper
audience, he did not speak the whole day. His speech was quaint and not like
that of others, but those who listened to him to the end, agreed with him. Such
were also the productions of his pen, and so were his conduct, and his
behaviour towards his superiors.
In a district he rose to the rank of a secretary,
and held the same office in the department of a military governor. In a
prefecture he was one of the five chief secretaries,
7 and in a department he was appointed assistant-magistrate.
He did not strive for fame, and did not regulate his conduct in accordance with
his personal profits. He always spoke of people's merits and seldom of their
faults. Those who had not yet got on in their career, were specially
recommended by him, and he exposed only the faults of those who had secured a
position. When he thought anything wrong, he did not praise it, and when a
fault was not done away with, he did not again condemn the man. He could pardon
the great faults of a man, and also pitied his minor mistakes. His desire was
to be unimpeachable himself, but he did not wish to shine. He endeavoured to
base his claims on recognition upon his actions, and was ashamed to presume
upon his talents.
In public meetings he did not speak, unless he was
asked, and in the presence of princes and generals he only replied, when he was
addressed. In the country he attempted to follow the example of
Chü Po Yü,8
and in the court he wished to imitate Shih Tse Yü.9
When insulted, he did not white-wash himself, and,
when in his career he was not promoted, he did not feel grieved. Although he
was poor and had not an acre to dwell upon, his mind was freer than that of
kings and dukes, and though he had no emoluments counted by pecks and piculs,
he felt, as if he had ten thousand chung10 to
live upon. Obtaining an appointment, he was not overjoyed, and losing it, he
did not feel distressed. He enjoyed a tranquil happiness, but his desires did
not run riot, and though he was living in a state of poverty, his energy was
not broken. The study of ancient literature was his debauchery, and strange
stories his relish. In the current books and common sayings he found much, in
which he could not aquiesce. A recluse in his solitary retirement, he tried to
find truth and falsehood.
Wang Ch`ung had a pure and
sterling character. He made friends wherever he went, but did not contract
these friendships carelessly. The position of his friends might be ever so low,
and in years they might be ever so young, provided only that they rose above
common-place mediocrity, he would seek their friendship. He had a great
admiration for superior men, and liked to associate with distinguished people,
but would not lightly become intimate with men of common gifts. In case these
latter slandered him for a slight fault or any insignificant mistake, he would
not clear himself of these accusations, nor did he bear any grudge against
them.
Some one might ask, why a man of remarkable gifts
and extraordinary literary talent should not defend himself against false
incriminations. Yang Shêng and others were foul-mouthed
and glibtongued; but Tsou Yang vindicated himself and
came out of jail again.
11 When a man's
conduct is perfect, people should not attempt to find flaws in it, and when
somebody exerts himself to come to the front, they should not keep him
down.
I reply that none but the pure remark dust, and
none but the exalted perceive dangers. Only those living in abundance, feel
restraints, and those in opulence know what is want. The scholars at present
talk too much of themselves, therefore they are slandered by others, which is
their due. Desirous to get on, they show themselves, and resenting neglect,
they assert themselves. Being free of these desires and resentments, I keep
quiet.
The slanders of Yang Shêng
were probably prompted by somebody, and when Tsou Yang
was delivered, some one saved him. Confucius spoke of
destiny and Mencius of heaven. Luck and mishap, quietude
and danger do not depend on man. The ancients knew this, therefore they
ascribed these things to destiny and attributed them to time. Placid, tranquil,
and equanimous, they did not complain of injustice. When happiness came, they
did not imagine that they themselves had brought it about, and when misfortune
befell them, they did not consider it their own doing. When they were
successful, their joy was not immoderate, and when they suffered reverses,
their courage did not fail them. They did not hate need, and therefore crave
for plenty, nor did they brave dangers to win peace. Their wisdom they did not
sell for wages, and they did not decline honours to become famous. Not being
bent on success, they did not try to show off, and not resenting reverses, they
did not complain of others. Tranquillity and excitement were the same to them,
life and death equal, luck and mishap identical, and victory and defeat one.
Meeting even ten Yang Shêngs, they would have said that
it mattered not; they left everything to heaven, and therefore did not wish to
shine.
Wang Ch`ung was of a
cheerful and easy-going disposition, and did not strive for wealth and honour.
When his superiors took notice of him, and promoted him above the heads of
others, he did not cling to his high post, and, when they ignored, denounced,
and degraded him, he did not pine at his low rank. When in the district
magistrate's office, he had no ambition and no repugnance.
Some one might object that to act like this is easy
enough, but that the difficulty lies with the heart. Meeting with congenial
friends, scholars do not care for the place, but whose example can they follow,
when they have dirty and distasteful business to do?
There is no better paragon than Confucius, I should say. Confucius as
an official had no aversions. In charge of the public fields and as keeper of
the granaries he was not low-spirited, and when he was superintendent of works
and minister, his face was not beaming with joy. Shun
tilled the land on the Li-shan,12 as though he should continue to do so for ever, and when he
had received the empire from Yao, he behaved, as if he
had obtained it later on as a matter of course. We must be sorry that our
virtue is not quite perfect, but not regret our humble rank, and we may be
abashed, if our name is not without blemish, but should not feel chagrined,
because we do not advance in our career. Marble may be kept in the same box
with tiles, and moon-stones in the same bag with pebbles. Being both of
precious stuff, they are not injured by being mixed with other things in the
world. For him who knows what is good, good things shine even in base places,
whereas to those who cannot make these distinctions, they look common even in a
prominent place. As long as the deeds of people in low and high spheres can be
measured, and as the virtues of men in humble positions, and of noble rank can
be compared, it is all right.
The world courts those who have been successful,
and disdains those who have failed. It hails the victor, and spurns the
defeated. As long as Wang Ch`ung was rising, and holding
rank and office, all the people swarmed around him like ants, but, when he had
lost his position and was living in poverty, his former friends abandoned him.
He pondered over the heartlessness of the world and in his leisure he wrote
twelve chapters "Censures on Common Morals",
13 hoping that the reading of these books would rouse the
public conscience. For this purpose he expressly wrote it in an easy, popular
style. Should anybody condemn it as shallow, I would reply that if the style of
the Sacred Institutions
14 be employed for the Lesser Odes,
15 or if an elegant speech be addressed
to rustics, they would not understand anything, and therefore not agree. Thus
Su Ch`in16 spoke very
elegantly in Chao, but Li Tui was
not enchanted at all. Shang Yang17 spoke
in Ch`in, as if he had addressed an emperor, but Duke
Hsiao18 did not follow his advice. If no
attention be paid to the individuality and inclinations of the hearers, one may
exhaust the eloquence of Yao and Shun, it would be like giving an ox wine to drink and
feeding a horse on preserved meat. A refined, rhetorical, and scientific style
is fit for the upper classes of society, but out of place for small-minded
people. It happens very seldom, that those who must hear something
nolens volens, take it to heart.
When Confucius had lost a
horse in the country, the country-people locked it up, and did not return it.
Tse Kung spoke to them in well turned sentences, but
only made them angry, but when the groom addressed them in a familar, jocular
tone, they relented.
19
To use high-flown expressions at all costs instead
of the plain and simple language of the people is like mixing an elixir, as the
spirits use, to cure a cold or a cough, and to put on a fur-coat of sable or
fox to fetch firewood or vegetables. As regards propriety, a thing is often out
of place, and many an action is often better left undone. To give a decision,
and understand a grievance, one must not be a Kao Yao,20 and to cook sunflower-seed and onions, no
Yi Ti21 or Yi Ya22 is required. In a side-alley one does not play the music of
Shun and Wu, and to the Village
Mother
23 one does not sacrifice a whole ox. What is unnecessary,
is also inadequate.
To carve a fowl with a butcher's knife, to reap
sun-flowers with a Shu24 spear, to cut chop-sticks with an iron
halberd, and to pour a glassful into a basin or a tureen would be incongruous,
and few would recommend it. What is the principle of debating? To illustrate
deep thoughts by simple ones. And how do we prove that we possess knowledge? By
illustrating difficult points by easy ones. Sages and worthies use to weigh,
what suits the different talents. Hence the difference of style, which may be
difficult or easy.
Since Wang Ch`ung deplored
the popular feeling, he wrote his Censures on Public Morals, and also lamenting
the vain efforts of the emperor's government, which was endeavouring to govern
the people, but could not find the right way, nor understand what was required,
and mournful and disheartened did not see its course, he wrote the book on
government.
25 Furthermore disgusted with the many
deceitful books and popular literature devoid of veracity and truthfulness, he
composed the Disquisitions (Lun-hêng).
The worthies and sages are dead, and their great
doctrine has split up. Many new roads have been struck out, on which many
people have stumbled. Every one must have his own school. Intelligent men have
seen this, but were unable to find the right way. Old traditions have been
transmitted, either written down, or spread by hearsay. Since they were dating
from over a hundred years backwards and growing older from day to day, people
have regarded them as antique lore and therefore near the truth, and this
belief became so rooted in their minds, that they themselves were incapable of
eradicating it again.
For this reason the Disquisitions have been written
to show the truth. They are in a lively style and full of controversy. Every
specious and futile argument has been tested, semblance and falsehood have been
rejected, and only what is real and solid has been preserved. Loose manners
have been suppressed, and the customs of Fu Hsi's time
26
revived.
Wang Ch`ung's writings are
lucid and easy to understand. There are those who pretend that the words of a
good debater must be profound, and the compositions of an able writer obscure.
The style of the classic literature and the sayings of worthies and sages are
grand and majestic, beautiful and refined, and difficult to grasp at first.
Those who study their whole life, learn to understand them with the necessary
explanations. The genius of the first thinkers being so wonderful, their
expressions cannot be the same as those of ordinary people. Gems, they say, are
concealed in stones, and pearls in fish-maws. Only jewel-lapidaries and
pearl-experts can find them. These precious things cannot be seen, because they
are hidden, and thus truisms must be profound and deep, and hard to grasp.
The "Censures on Morals" are intended to rouse
people, therefore the meaning is perspicuous and the style quite plain. But why
must the Lung-hêng be like this too? Is the talent of
the author so shallow, that it was absolutely impossible to hide anything? Why
is the style so perspicuous, and quite a different principle followed than in
the classical literature?
My reply is as follows. A gem is concealed in a
stone and a pearl in a fish-maw, and therefore they are covered and in the
dark. But, when the colour of the gem beams from the heart of the stone, and
the lustre of the pearl breaks through the fish-maw, are they still hidden?
They are like my thoughts, before they have been fixed in books. Enshrined in
my bosom, they are like gems or pearls in their concealment, shining forth,
brilliant as the splendour of the heavenly bodies, and clear as the distinct
lines of the surface of the earth.
Lest things should remain doubtful and obscure to
us, we can describe them all by names, and, provided that the names are clear,
all the things become defined. The Lun-hêng discusses
these questions impartially.
In speaking, it is essential to use clear words,
and in writing, to employ plain signs. The style of eminent scholars is
refined, but their words can always be understood, and their meaning always be
caught. Their readers are suddenly enlightened like blind men who recover their
sight, or stirred up like deaf men who suddenly learn to hear. When a child who
has been blind for three years, unexpectedly sees his parents, he would not, at
once, know them on perceiving them, why then should he give utterance to his
joy?
Let a huge tree stand by the road-side, and a long
ditch run along a bank, then the locality is well defined, and everybody knows
it. Now, should the tree not be huge any more and disappear, and the ditch not
be long and be hidden, and the place be shown to people, even Yao and Shun would be perplexed.
The human features are divided into more than
seventy different classes. The flesh of the cheeks being pure and white, the
five colours can be clearly discerned, and the slightest sorrow, pleasure, and
other emotions, all find expression in the features. A physiognomist will not
once be mistaken in ten cases. But if the face be blackened and begrimed, or
covered with a layer of dirt so, that the features are hidden, then
physiognomists will give wrong answers nine times out of ten.
The style is formed of words. It may be shallow,
perspicuous, and distinct, or deep, abstruse, elegant, and polished. Who shall
distinguish it?
We speak to express our thoughts, and from fear,
that our words might be lost, we commit them to writing. Writing having the
same purpose as speaking, wherefore should it conceal the meaning?
A judge must hate wrong. Now, would a magistrate,
who while deciding a doubtful case gives a confuse and unintelligent verdict,
be a better official than another, who clearly distinguishes every point, and
can easily be understood?
In oral discussions, one makes clear distinctions
out of regards for the audience, and in written disputations one elucidates
one's meaning to be understood. In historical works, a clear and intelligible
style is most appreciated, and of profound productions, full of beautiful
thoughts, but hard to read, there are only pieces of irregular verse and
dithyrambs. As for the classical and semiclassical works and the words of the
worthies and sages, the ancient and modern languages are different, and speech
varies in the different parts of the empire. At the time, when these men spoke,
they did not wish that their words should be difficult to understand, or that
their meaning should be hidden. If later ages did not understand them, this is
owing to the remoteness of time. Therefore one may speak of the difference of
language, but not of genius or shallowness of style. If the reading offers
great difficulties, the works may be considered as not very cleverly written,
but this should not be reputed a great wisdom.
Ch`in Shih Huang Ti reading
Han Fei Tse's work exclaimed with a sigh! "Alas! that I
am alone, and have not got this man!"
27 They were contemporaries, he
could understand his words and reflect upon what he said. If the book had been
so profound and exquisite, that he wanted a teacher to comprehend it, he would
have flung it to the ground, and it was no use sighing.
28
An author wishes his work to be intelligible, but
difficult to write, and he does not care, if it be hard to grasp, but easy to
write. In lectures one aims at perspicuity, that the hearers can follow, and
does not affect obscurity and ambiguity to baffle the readers.
Mencius knew an intelligent man by the sparkling of his
eyes.
29 One
learns to know what a text is worth by its lucidity.
The book of Wang Ch`ung is
of another type than the usual writings. The following objection might be
raised against it:---
In literature it is of importance to conform to the
public feeling, and not to be in opposition to received ideas. Then not one out
of a hundred readers will find anything to blame, and not one out of a thousand
hearers will take exception. Therefore Kuan Tse30 said that, where somebody is speaking in a house, the
audience must fill the whole house, and, when he speaks in a hall, the entire
hall should be full. Now Wang Ch`ung's arguments are not
in accordance with public opinion. Consequently his words controvert all common
ideas, and do not tally with the general views.
I reply that in arguing, the essential thing is
truth, not elegance, that the facts should at all events be correct, and that
consensus is not the highest aim. Investigating a
question, one discusses the pros and cons, how would it be possible not to deviate from old ideas
and perhaps offend the ears of the common hearer? When the general feeling is
wrong, it cannot be followed. One denounces and discards that which is false,
and keeps and establishes that which is true. If we were to go by majority, and
conform to the public feeling, we could only follow the good old rules and
precedents, and recite them over and over again, but how could there be any
discussion?
When Confucius was attending
the court and sitting next to Duke Ai of
Lu, the duke favoured him with a peach and millet.
Confucius first ate the millet and then the peach. This,
we must admit, was the right order of eating the two courses. The courtiers,
however, all covered their mouth and laughed. They had, for a long time, been
used to another custom. Now I, in fact, resemble Confucius eating the two dishes in the order described
above. Ordinary people take exception like the courtiers laughing in their
sleeves.
Beautiful festive songs were considered as too
melancholic, in Chêng31 and pantomimes, at great celebrations, found no
favour in Chao.
The five Leading Princes
32 declined to cast a look upon the Canons of
Yao and Shun, and
Chi and Mêng33 would not read the works of
Confucius and Mê Ti. Plans for
securing the peace in times of danger are scoffed at in side-alleys, and
schemes of reform ridiculed by common people. If there were an exquisite dish,
vulgar people would not taste it, though Yi Ti and
Yi Ya34 might eat it
with the greatest relish, and if there were a precious jade-stone, ordinary
people would throw it away, whereas Pien Ho35 would hoard it
up as a treasure. Who would be right, who wrong, and who could be trusted?
Propriety and common usage are always in opposition, when has it not been so?
When Duke Wên of Lu infringed the
rule of sacrifices,
36 five men resisted him.
Great scholars will never give up researches of the
above mentioned kind, and common people will always dislike them. And so will
the savants enjoy and appreciate books, which bewilder
the masses, and which the narrow-minded will flee.
Wang Ch`ung's book cannot be
free from imperfection. Some say that in speaking he does not choose the words,
nor in writing, the phrases. Compositions must be tastefully written, and
discussions ingeniously conducted. When such words strike the ear, they cause a
pleasant feeling in the heart, and when the eye falls on writing, the hand does
not lay the book aside again. Such disputations are always listened to, and
excellent compositions always appreciated. Now, since this new book chiefly
consists of comparisons and strictures on the depravity of the age, and does
not praise what is good, it does not please the reader. The tunes played by the
music-master K`uang37 were always full of
feeling, and the delicacies prepared by Yi Ti and
Yi Ya were never tasteless. When a clever man writes a
book, it is without a flaw. Lü Shih38 and
Huai Nan made an advertisement on the market gates, and
the readers did not find fault with one word in their books.
39 Now the Lun-hêng does not possess
the beauties of these two books. It is long enough, but open to objections in
many respects.
In reply I beg to state that he who cherishes
veracity does not trouble much about beauty, and that regulating the conduct,
he does not polish his words. Luxuriant grass has often abundance of blossoms,
and mighty forests have many dry branches. The purport of words is to clearly
show the nature of things, how can they be polished and above all censure?
Saving a man from fire or out of water, we do not care, whether we do it in a
beautiful style or not, and, when we debate on a question, our words must not
necessarily be ingenious. Plunging into a lake to seize turtles, we have no
time to think, whether we place our feet right, and catching dragons in deep
water, we have no time to care for the position of our hands.
In spite of bad style and faulty terms the meaning
may be excellent and far reaching sometimes, and sweet words and beautiful
expressions give often a very poor sense. When a thousand chung of grain are cleansed, more than half are husks, and
examining a hundred thousand cash, one finds that the broken coins exceed ten
thousand. Fine soups are often insipid, and the best jewels have their flaws. A
slip-shod production may possess great beauties, and a great artist do very
second-rate work. Every discussion has its weak points, and in the ablest
production some deficiencies can be detected.
Golden words come from noble houses, and foul
productions from poor families, they think.---Huai Nan
Tse and Lü Shih40 did not
encounter any difficulties, because they were descendants of rich houses and of
high rank. Since they were noble, they could well advertise on the market
place, and being so wealthy, they could easily make the alternate promise of a
thousand chin. Their readers were intimidated and in
awe, and would never have ventured to criticise one character, even if it had
been quite out of place.
When Wang Ch`ung's book was
completed, it was compared by some with the works of the ancients, and found to
be quite different from the writings of previous authors. Some hold that the
book may be said to be written partly in a slovenly style. Sometimes it is
terse, at others diffuse, sometimes concise, sometimes prolix. When a problem
is being discussed or a question investigated, the author is too summary or too
loquacious, half sweet, half sour. The Classics he does not resemble, with the
semi-classics he does not agree, nor does he harmonize with either
Yang Ch`êng Tse Chang or Yang Tse
Yün.41 Since he is
unlike the ancient authors, how can he be considered a good writer, or his book
be reputed an able production?
I answer that, if anybody puts on an alien
appearance forcibly to be like somebody else, his own shape is lost, and if he
changes his style to resemble others, he loses his peculiar character. The sons
of a hundred persons have not the same parents. Being all born in different
families, they cannot be similar. Each one distinguishes himself by his
peculiar gifts. If writings could only then be considered good, when they are
conform to a certain standard, this would be like substituting one workman for
another and declaring his work to be a master-piece, provided that in hewing he
did not cut his own hand.
All literary men have their own specialties. The
one polishes his phrases to produce an elegant composition, the other combats
all errors to establish the truth. Their ultimate aims are the same, and the
words follow of themselves. Thus the deeds of the Five Emperors were not
different, and there was no conflict between the actions of the Three Rulers.
Beautiful looks are not the same, but their aspect is always pleasing to the
eye: sentimental airs are not identical, but their music is always gratifying
to the ear. Wines have different flavours, but they all inebriate, the tastes
of various cereals vary, but they all appease our hunger. If conformity to old
standard be required of a literary production, then we would be entitled to
expect that Shun also should have eye-brows with eight
colours
42 and Yü eyes with double
pupils.
43
Wang Ch`ung's book is very
voluminous. Some say that in writing the chief thing is to be brief and clear,
and that in speaking one must be short and plain. The words of a good debater
are succinct, but to the point, the style of a good writer is concise, but
perspicuous. Now Wang Ch`ung's new work contains more
than ten thousand sentences. For a reader it is impossible to work through such
an enormous mass, and there are so many chapters, that they cannot all be
transmitted. The author of so much bad stuff may well be called a fool. Short
sentences are easy to enunciate, whereas a bulky work presents great
difficulties. Gems are few, stones many; that which occurs in great number, is
not precious. Dragons are rare, fish numerous; that which is of rare occurence,
is justly deemed divine.
I admit that there is such a saying. Concise
language is not long, but beautiful language must not be concise. If they are
useful to the world, a hundred chapters do no harm, while one paragraph, if
useless, may be superfluous. If there are several things, all useful, the
longer rank before the shorter. Who is richer, he who has piled up a thousand
chin, or he who possesses a hundred?
Longer works are preferable to shorter ones, and a
small amount of wealth is better than poverty. Most people have not a single
book, I possess a hundred chapters: others have not one character, I have more
than ten thousand sentences. Who is the cleverer?
Now they do not say that my words are wrong, but
that they are too many; they do not say that the world does not like good
things, but that it cannot take them all in. The reason why my book cannot be
so concise is that for building many houses a small ground would not be
sufficient, and that for the registration of a large populace few registers
would be inadequate. At present, the errors are so many, that the words
necessary to point out the truth, show what is right, and controvert what is
false, cannot well be brief and succinct.
Han Fei Tse's work is like
the branch of a tree. The chapters are joined together by tens, and the
sentences count by ten thousands. For a large body the dress cannot be narrow,
and if there be many subjects, the text must not be too summary. A great
variety of subjects requires abundance of words. In a large extent of water,
there are many fish, in an emperor's capital, there is plenty of grain, and on
the market of a metropolis, there is a throng of people.
My book may be voluminous, but the subjects treated
are manifold. T`ai Kung Wang44
in ancient times and recently Tung Chung Shu45 produced books containing more than a hundred chapters. My
book also contains more than a hundred chapters. Those who contend that they
are too many, only mean to say that the author is of low origin, and that the
readers cannot but take exception to it.
When we compare a river, whose waters overflow the
banks, with others, which is the biggest? And, when the cocoons of a certain
species of worms are especially heavy and big, which worms yield most silk?
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