The seventh volume of “Mémoires concernant l’histoire, les sciences,
les arts, les mœurs, les usages, &c., des Chinois”[1] is devoted to the
Art of War, and contains, amongst other treatises, “Les Treize Articles
de Sun-tse,” translated from the Chinese by a Jesuit Father, Joseph
Amiot. Père Amiot appears to have enjoyed no small reputation as a
sinologue in his day, and the field of his labours was certainly
extensive. But his so-called translation of Sun Tzŭ, if placed side
by side with the original, is seen at once to be little better than an
imposture. It contains a great deal that Sun Tzŭ did not write, and
very little indeed of what he did. Here is a fair specimen, taken from
the opening sentences of chapter 5:—
_De l’habileté dans le gouvernement des Troupes._ Sun-tse dit:
Ayez les noms de tous les Officiers tant généraux que subalternes;
inscrivez-les dans un catalogue à part, avec la note des talents &
de la capacité de chacun d’eux, afin de pouvoir les employer avec
avantage lorsque l’occasion en sera venue. Faites en sorte que
tous ceux que vous devez commander soient persuadés que votre
principale attention est de les préserver de tout dommage. Les
troupes que vous ferez avancer contre l’ennemi doivent être comme
des pierres que vous lanceriez contre des œufs. De vous à l’ennemi
il ne doit y avoir d’autre différence que celle du fort au foible,
du vuide au plein. Attaquez à découvert, mais soyez vainqueur en
secret. Voilà en peu de mots en quoi consiste l’habileté & toute
la perfection même du gouvernement des troupes.
Throughout the nineteenth century, which saw a wonderful development
in the study of Chinese literature, no translator ventured to tackle
Sun Tzŭ, although his work was known to be highly valued in China as
by far the oldest and best compendium of military science. It was not
until the year 1905 that the first English translation, by Capt. E. F.
Calthrop, R.F.A., appeared at Tokyo under the title “Sonshi” (the
Japanese form of Sun Tzŭ)[2]. Unfortunately, it was evident that the
translator’s knowledge of Chinese was far too scanty to fit him to
grapple with the manifold difficulties of Sun Tzŭ. He himself plainly
acknowledges that without the aid of two Japanese gentlemen “the
accompanying translation would have been impossible.” We can only
wonder, then, that with their help it should have been so excessively
bad. It is not merely a question of downright blunders, from which
none can hope to be wholly exempt. Omissions were frequent; hard
passages were wilfully distorted or slurred over. Such offences are
less pardonable. They would not be tolerated in any edition of a Greek
or Latin classic, and a similar standard of honesty ought to be
insisted upon in translations from Chinese.
From blemishes of this nature, at least, I believe that the present
translation is free. It was not undertaken out of any inflated estimate
of my own powers; but I could not help feeling that Sun Tzŭ deserved a
better fate than had befallen him, and I knew that, at any rate, I
could hardly fail to improve on the work of my predecessors. Towards
the end of 1908, a new and revised edition of Capt. Calthrop’s
translation was published in London, this time, however, without any
allusion to his Japanese collaborators. My first three chapters were
then already in the printer’s hands, so that the criticisms of Capt.
Calthrop therein contained must be understood as referring to
his earlier edition. In the subsequent chapters I have of course
transferred my attention to the second edition. This is on the whole an
improvement on the other, though there still remains much that cannot
pass muster. Some of the grosser blunders have been rectified and
lacunae filled up, but on the other hand a certain number of new
mistakes appear. The very first sentence of the introduction is
startlingly inaccurate; and later on, while mention is made of “an army
of Japanese commentators” on Sun Tzŭ (who are these, by the way?), not
a word is vouchsafed about the Chinese commentators, who nevertheless,
I venture to assert, form a much more numerous and infinitely more
important “army.”
A few special features of the present volume may now be noticed. In
the first place, the text has been cut up into numbered paragraphs,
both in order to facilitate cross-reference and for the convenience of
students generally. The division follows broadly that of Sun
Hsing-yen’s edition; but I have sometimes found it desirable to join
two or more of his paragraphs into one. In quoting from other works,
Chinese writers seldom give more than the bare title by way of
reference, and the task of research is apt to be seriously hampered in
consequence. With a view to obviating this difficulty so far as Sun
Tzŭ is concerned, I have also appended a complete concordance of
Chinese characters, following in this the admirable example of Legge,
though an alphabetical arrangement has been preferred to the
distribution under radicals which he adopted. Another feature borrowed
from “The Chinese Classics” is the printing of text, translation and
notes on the same page; the notes, however, are inserted, according to
the Chinese method, immediately after the passages to which they
refer. From the mass of native commentary my aim has been to extract
the cream only, adding the Chinese text here and there when it seemed
to present points of literary interest. Though constituting in itself
an important branch of Chinese literature, very little commentary of
this kind has hitherto been made directly accessible by translation.[3]
I may say in conclusion that, owing to the printing off of my
sheets as they were completed, the work has not had the benefit of a
final revision. On a review of the whole, without modifying the
substance of my criticisms, I might have been inclined in a few
instances to temper their asperity. Having chosen to wield a bludgeon,
however, I shall not cry out if in return I am visited with more than
a rap over the knuckles. Indeed, I have been at some pains to put a
sword into the hands of future opponents by scrupulously giving either
text or reference for every passage translated. A scathing review,
even from the pen of the Shanghai critic who despises “mere
translations,” would not, I must confess, be altogether unwelcome.
For, after all, the worst fate I shall have to dread is that which
befell the ingenious paradoxes of George in _The Vicar of Wakefield_.