Su Shu素書

I. Where It Starts原始章

The ground floor. The Way, virtue, humanity, right and rite are not five rungs of a ladder here but five faces of one thing — drop one and a man will not stand up. That is exactly where the book parts company with the Laozi, which has them falling away one after another. The rest of the chapter is about waiting: a man who holds the thing keeps out of sight until his time, acts when it comes, and if it never comes, never acts. One thing to say at the outset: the book’s pedigree is a long-running quarrel. It is ascribed to the Yellow Stone Elder of the Qin and to Zhang Liang’s transmission; the Qing imperial catalogue calls it a forgery outright, notes that lines like “no grief like the scattering of the spirit, no sickness like inconstancy” are the shallowest sort of Taoist and Buddhist talk, observes that commentary and text read as though written by one hand, and assigns it to the Song statesman Zhang Shangying. The attribution here follows the base text’s own title page, with the case against it stated first: a good book, whatever its parentage. (The base text runs to 1,299 characters, not counting the six chapter titles, while the preface bound in front of it claims “one thousand three hundred and thirty-six words” — where the missing three dozen sit has never been agreed between editions.)

The Way, virtue, humanity, right and rite: these five are one body. (The next five lines define them one by one. The load is carried by “one body”: the Laozi has them falling away in sequence — lose the Way and then there is virtue, lose virtue and then there is humanity — while here all five stand at once.)

The Way is what a man treads; it makes the ten thousand things run without their knowing what they run by. (“Tread” is the word: the Way is not for looking at but for walking on.)

Virtue is what a man has got in himself; it lets the ten thousand things each get what they want. (In Chinese “virtue” and “get” are the same sound and the same root: you must first have got it yourself before anyone else gets anything.)

Humanity is what draws man to man: a heart of kindness and of pity, by which he sees others through to life and growth.

Right is what fits: rewarding good and punishing evil, so that deeds and works may stand. (What “fits” is what ought to be. Right is not warmth; it is a decision.)

Rite is what a man walks in: rising early and going late to bed, and so making the order of human relations. (“Walk in” answers “tread” above: one is the road, the other the shoe.)

If a man would be a man at all, he cannot lack one of them. (The verdict of the chapter, and a flat refusal of the Laozi’s descending ladder.)

The worthy and the gentleman are clear about the way of flourishing and decay, versed in the numbers of success and failure, shrewd about the shape of order and disorder, and settled in the reason for staying or going. (Three clauses look at the world; only the fourth looks at himself, and that is the point of the sentence.)

So he lies low and holds the Way, waiting for his time. (“Holds” in the sense of holding in the arms — not stored away, but carried, ready to be handed over.)

If the time comes and he acts, he can reach the topmost place a subject can hold; if he catches the moment and moves, he can do a deed unmatched for an age. And if the time never comes, he goes to his grave, and that is all. (The coldest line in the book: it makes waiting no promises.)

It is just for this that his Way is high enough, and his name weighs in later ages. (Read backwards: only a man who will accept “and that is all” has earned the word “hold.”)

II. The Straight Road正道章

Three grades: the outstanding, the eminent, the great. The first two are lists of what a man can do; the third says nothing about ability at all, only about four things he does not do under pressure. Read it backwards.

Virtue enough to draw men from far off, good faith enough to make one thing of many opinions, right enough to win a following, talent enough to take the past for a mirror, clear sight enough to light up what lies below: such a man is called outstanding. (Making one of many opinions is done by being believed, not by putting people down. Every item is a question of how much.)

Conduct that can serve as a model, wit enough to settle what is doubtful, faith such that he may be set to keep an agreement, cleanness such that he may be set to divide money: such a man is called eminent. (The base text has “may be set to,” where the common text repeats “enough to.” One word apart: the first two items say he has the ability, the last two say you would dare hand him the job.)

He holds his post and does not drop it; he stands on the right and does not turn; under suspicion he will not take the easy way out; offered gain he will not put out his hand. Such a man is called great. (The top grade contains not one “enough to”; all four clauses are negative. The first two grades are about what a man can do, this one about what he will not.)

III. Setting the Will求人之志

Eighteen entries, every one of the form “do this, and so get that.” Not one of them argues; they are all actions — the high ground of the first two chapters broken up into eighteen things a man could start on this afternoon.

Cut off appetites and forbid desires: so you are rid of encumbrance. Hold down what is wrong and pare away what has gone bad: so fault is averted. Cut back the wine and shut the door on women: so you stay unstained. Keep clear of suspicion and of the doubtful: so you make no blunders. (All four are subtraction. “Avert” is a sacrificial word, used here simply for getting rid of a thing.)

Study widely and question closely: so knowledge broadens. Set the conduct high and the speech low: so the self is put in order. Be respectful, sparing, modest, restrained: so you keep hold of yourself. Reckon deep and look far: so you are never at the end of your resources. (“Conduct high, speech low” is the spine of the chapter: raise what you do, lower what you say about it.)

Keep near the humane and make friends of the straight: so there is a hand when you fall. Stay close to fellow-feeling and act in earnest: so men can be met. Give work by the material and use by the capacity: so business gets done. Impeach the bad and drive off the whisperer: so disorder stops. (The base text writes “impeach” where the common text has a homophone meaning “detest” — an action rather than a feeling, which fits a chapter made entirely of actions.)

Press the old against the new: so you are not confused. Measure, and measure again before reckoning: so the sudden can be met. Allow for change and hold the power to bend the rule: so knots come undone. Tie the sack and go with the moment: so there is no blame. (The base text doubles the word “measure” where the common text reads “measure first and reckon after.” “Tie the sack” is from the Book of Changes: no blame and no praise either — the line states its own price.)

Stake-like, ridge-pole-like: so merit stands. Diligent and decent: so the end is kept. (The first sixteen entries teach a man how to manage; the last two say that in the end he has to be hard.)

IV. Virtue at the Root本德宗道

Fifteen superlatives, one to a clause: seven for what is best, eight for what is worst. Nothing here is an action; the whole chapter is a ranking — which of the good things comes first, and which of the bad ones bites hardest.

The art of a fixed heart and earnest practice runs thus. For growth, nothing grows like wide counsel; for safety, nothing is safe like bearing an insult; for precedence, nothing comes before cultivating virtue; for joy, no joy like loving to do good; for the uncanny, nothing is uncanny like utter sincerity; for clear sight, nothing sees like entering into a thing; for luck, no luck like knowing when there is enough. (“Entering into a thing” means putting yourself inside it to take its measure, not standing outside to look.)

For bitterness, nothing is bitter like wanting too much; for grief, no grief like the scattering of the spirit; for sickness, no sickness like inconstancy; for a short life, nothing is shorter than what is got by a shortcut; for darkness, nothing is darker than greed and meanness; for loneliness, nothing is lonelier than leaning on yourself alone; for danger, nothing is more dangerous than employing a man you doubt; for ruin, nothing ruins like a full measure of self. (The seventh is the sharpest: not being suspected, but appointing a man you are still suspicious of. The post given, the trust withheld — ruin waits there.)

V. Holding to the Right遵義章

Some forty-five entries, each of the form “the man who does this, ends so.” There is no model to follow anywhere in it except one pair near the end. It does not teach you to be right; it lays out, case by case, what going wrong looks like — a casebook for whoever is in charge.

He who displays his own cleverness to those below him is in the dark. He who has faults and does not know it is walled in. He who strays and does not turn back is lost. He who buys resentment with his tongue brings disaster. He whose order and whose heart pull apart has wasted the order. He whose later order contradicts the earlier destroys his own standing. (The first is the cruellest: showing off your acuteness downward is not brilliance, it is shutting your subordinates up. If you know everything, there is nothing for them to say.)

He who is angry and carries no weight will be defied. He who likes to shame men in public brings calamity. He who kills and disgraces the men he himself appointed is in danger. He who slights those he ought to honour meets ill. He who agrees in the face and parts in the heart ends alone. He who takes the whisperer close and puts the loyal far off is finished. (The base text has “in public” where the common text has “bluntly” — much the more concrete reading.)

He who keeps women near and the worthy far is benighted. Where the back-door petition is transacted openly, there is disorder. He who makes a private gift of office is a light man. He who wins by riding down those beneath him is eating into himself. He whose name outruns the substance wastes away. (The last: whatever the name exceeds the substance by has to be paid for out of something.)

He who passes over himself and calls others to account will not govern. He who is thick with himself and thin with others is dropped. He who cancels a merit for a fault loses by it. When those below are all turned outward, the thing sinks. He who employs a man and will not entrust him drives him off. (The last picks up chapter four: appoint a man and you must hand him the work; withhold it, and the appointment was nothing.)

He who grudges his face when he gives the reward disheartens men. He who promises much and gives little earns resentment. He who welcomes a man in and then shuts him out is at cross purposes. He who gives thinly and expects thickly gets nothing back. He who is raised high and forgets the low days does not last. (The first is about a facial expression: the gift handed over, the face withheld, and it is as though nothing had been given.)

He who remembers old wrongs and cancels new merit meets ill. He who employs men and does not get it right courts trouble. He who forces men to serve will not keep them. He who picks an office to fit a man makes disorder. He who loses the thing he was strong in grows weak. (The base text has “old wrongs” where the common text has “old grudges” — heavier, since it is what the man actually did and not merely what you still feel. “Picking an office to fit a man” is the exact reverse of chapter three: work first and then the man, not the man first and then the work.)

He who leaves the decision to a man without humanity is in peril. When the secret plan leaks out, it fails. He who levies heavily and gives back thinly withers. Where the fighting men are poor and the men who go about talking are rich, there is decline. Where bribes travel openly, there is blindness. (The fourth reads like a page of history: it passes judgement on nobody and merely describes a distribution.)

He who hears of good and lets it pass, and remembers a fault and never forgets it, is a brute. When the men employed cannot be trusted and the men trusted cannot be employed, all is muddied. Herd men with virtue and they gather; rule them with the rod and they scatter. (The last pair is the only positive-and-negative in the chapter, and the only method it offers.)

If small merit goes unrewarded, great merit will not be earned; if small grudges are not let go, a great grudge is bound to grow. Reward that does not satisfy and punishment that does not sit right breed revolt. Reward reaching those without merit and punishment reaching those without guilt is cruelty. To find the whisper sweet and to hate the man who remonstrates is the end. He who can keep what is his own is safe; he who covets what is another’s is a destroyer. (The closing eight characters are the chapter’s summing-up: keeping what is your own is not a counsel against ambition but a demand that you first work out which part was ever yours.)

VI. At Ease in the Order安禮章

The grammar changes here. The other chapters are about people; this one is about how one thing hangs on another — thin soil grows nothing large, shallow water holds no big fish, a bare tree gets no big birds. It has one point to make: nothing ever goes wrong suddenly, and the stretch before it goes wrong can be seen.

Resentment lies in not letting a small fault go; trouble lies in not settling the plan beforehand. Good fortune lies in good heaped up, misfortune in evil heaped up. Hunger lies in holding farming cheap, cold in idling at the loom. Peace lies in getting men, danger in losing men of worth. Wealth lies in going out to meet what is coming, poverty in throwing away the moment. (Ten clauses, each naming a source. Not “will lead to” — simply “lies in.”)

When the man above is not fitful, the men below have no misgivings. To slight the one above brings guilt; to bully those below leaves you without affection. When the ministers close at hand are not valued, the ministers far off make light of you. He who doubts himself cannot trust others; he who is sure of himself does not suspect them. (The last says it plainly: suspicion is a fact about you, not about them.)

A crooked man has no upright friends; a bent superior has no straight subordinates. A state in danger has no worthy men; a government in disorder has no good ones. He who loves men deeply seeks the worthy urgently; he who is glad to get the worthy keeps men generously. When a state is about to take the lead, the men of parts all come to it; when a state is about to fall, the worthy leave first. (“Leave first” is the book’s signature move: the worthy are not driven out, they go — which makes their going the earliest indicator there is.)

Thin soil brings forth no great growth; shallow water no great fish; a bare tree holds no great bird; a thin wood houses no great beast. What is too steep falls in; what is brimful runs over. (The first four are about not attracting, the last two about not bearing — too little and too much. The base text reads “no great fish” where the common text has “no great creature”; the fish belongs with the bird and the beast.)

To throw away jade and pick up stone is blindness; sheep’s stuff in a tiger’s skin is a disgrace. Lift a coat by anything but the collar and it falls in a heap; walk without watching the ground and you go down. A weak pillar and the house breaks; weak support and the state topples. (Lifting a coat by the collar is the most usable image in the book: getting hold of the main thread is something you can show with your hands. The base text ends the second clause with “disgrace” where the common text has “dressing up” — only “disgrace” matches the “blindness” before it.)

Cold at the feet hurts the heart; resentment in the people hurts the state. Before a mountain slides, the bottom of it is already loose; before a state declines, its people are already worn out. When the root withers the branch rots; when the people are hard pressed the state is maimed. To run in the same ruts as the cart that overturned is to overturn; to do the same things as the state that perished is to perish. (“The bottom first” and “the people first” are the chapter’s method: to see whether a large thing will fall, look at the layer underneath it.)

Look at what has gone by; go carefully toward what is coming. If you hate where the tracks lead, keep off that road in good time. He who fears danger is safe; he who fears ruin endures. (The base text reads “look at what has gone by, go carefully toward what is coming,” with a reading-dot beside it; the common text has a wordier and vaguer line. Four characters against four — much the cleaner.)

In what a man does, there is fortune where there is the Way and misfortune where there is not. To the fortunate a hundred blessings come home; upon the unfortunate a hundred disasters close in. This is no work of gods or sages: it is where things gather of themselves. (Eight characters that lift every mention of fortune in the book clear of divination.)

He who works at good counsel has no bad business; he who will not look far has trouble near. The steady man may be set to hold a position but not to meet the charge; the greedy may be set to take by attack but not to hold a line; the clean-handed may be set to guard the person of the lord but not to meet what comes unlooked for. These several sorts are used each according to his material. (The most practical passage in the book: no material is good or bad in itself, only well or badly placed. Two notes. The thirty-nine characters are dropped from some current bare-text editions; the base text has them. And the base text says “these five sorts” after naming three — something has fallen out, in the common text too, and the hole has never been filled.)

Those of one will find each other; those of one humanity are anxious for each other; those of one wickedness make a faction; those of one love seek each other; those of one beauty are jealous of each other; those of one cunning scheme against each other; those of one rank injure each other; those of one profit are wary of each other. (Eight clauses sliding steadily downhill, from finding each other to watching each other. Like gathers to like is true; like destroys like is also true — the difference is only what the likeness consists of.)

Like notes answer each other; like airs move each other; like kinds lean on each other; those of one rightness are close to each other; those in one difficulty rescue each other; those on one road complete each other; those of one craft correct each other; those of one skill outdo each other. All this is what the numbers bring about, and it cannot be set against the reason of things. (These eight turn back upward and make a table with the eight before them. The base text’s last clause is the one that parses; the common text’s is corrupt.)

To set yourself aside and instruct others is going against the grain; to put yourself straight and then transform others is going with it. What goes against the grain is hard to follow; what goes with it is easy to do. What is hard to follow makes disorder; what is easy to do falls into order. Take all this in detail and act on it, and you may order yourself, order your house, and order the state. (The book closes on the word “self.” Five chapters have been spent looking at other people; the last sentence turns the ruler round.)