The sentence quoted above from VI. § 21 hardly strikes me as one that
could have been written in the full flush of victory. It seems rather
to imply that, for the moment at least, the tide had turned against
Wu, and that she was getting the worst of the struggle. Hence we may
conclude that our treatise was not in existence in 505, before which
date Yüeh does not appear to have scored any notable success against
Wu. Ho Lu died in 496, so that if the book was written for him, it
must have been during the period 505–496, when there was a lull in
the hostilities, Wu having presumably been exhausted by its supreme
effort against Ch‘u. On the other hand, if we choose to disregard the
tradition connecting Sun Wu’s name with Ho Lu, it might equally well
have seen the light between 496 and 494, or possibly in the period
482–473, when Yüeh was once again becoming a very serious menace.[76]
We may feel fairly certain that the author, whoever he may have been,
was not a man of any great eminence in his own day. On this point
the negative testimony of the _Tso Chuan_ far outweighs any shred of
authority still attaching to the _Shih Chi_, if once its other facts
are discredited. Sun Hsing-yen, however, makes a feeble attempt to
explain the omission of his name from the great commentary. It was Wu
Tzŭ-hsü, he says, who got all the credit of Sun Wu’s exploits, because
the latter (being an alien) was not rewarded with an office in the
State.[77]
How then did the Sun Tzŭ legend originate? It may be that the growing
celebrity of the book imparted by degrees a kind of factitious renown
to its author. It was felt to be only right and proper that one so
well versed in the science of war should have solid achievements
to his credit as well. Now the capture of Ying was undoubtedly the
greatest feat of arms in Ho Lu’s reign; it made a deep and lasting
impression on all the surrounding states, and raised Wu to the
short-lived zenith of her power. Hence, what more natural, as time
went on, than that the acknowledged master of strategy, Sun Wu, should
be popularly identified with that campaign, at first perhaps only in
the sense that his brain conceived and planned it; afterwards, that it
was actually carried out by him in conjunction with Wu Yüan,[78] Po
P‘ei and Fu Kai?
It is obvious that any attempt to reconstruct even the outline of Sun
Tzŭ’s life must be based almost wholly on conjecture. With this
necessary proviso, I should say that he probably entered the service
of Wu about the time of Ho Lu’s accession, and gathered experience,
though only in the capacity of a subordinate officer, during the
intense military activity which marked the first half of that prince’s
reign.[79] If he rose to be a general at all, he certainly was never
on an equal footing with the three above mentioned. He was doubtless
present at the investment and occupation of Ying, and witnessed Wu’s
sudden collapse in the following year. Yüeh’s attack at this critical
juncture, when her rival was embarrassed on every side, seems to have
convinced him that this upstart kingdom was the great enemy against
whom every effort would henceforth have to be directed. Sun Wu was
thus a well-seasoned warrior when he sat down to write his famous
book, which according to my reckoning must have appeared towards the
end, rather than the beginning, of Ho Lu’s reign. The story of the
women may possibly have grown out of some real incident occurring
about the same time. As we hear no more of Sun Wu after this from any
source, he is hardly likely to have survived his patron or to have
taken part in the death-struggle with Yüeh, which began with the
disaster at Tsui-li.
If these inferences are approximately correct, there is a certain
irony in the fate which decreed that China’s most illustrious man
of peace should be contemporary with her greatest writer on war.
The Text of Sun Tzŭ.
I have found it difficult to glean much about the history of Sun Tzŭ’s
text. The quotations that occur in early authors go to show that the
“13 chapters” of which Ssŭ-ma Ch‘ien speaks were essentially the same
as those now extant. We have his word for it that they were widely
circulated in his day, and can only regret that he refrained from
discussing them on that account.[80] Sun Hsing-yen says in his preface:—
During the Ch‘in and Han dynasties Sun Tzŭ’s _Art of War_ was in
general use amongst military commanders, but they seem to have
treated it as a work of mysterious import, and were unwilling to
expound it for the benefit of posterity. Thus it came about that
Wei Wu was the first to write a commentary on it.[81]
As we have already seen, there is no reasonable ground to suppose that
Ts‘ao Kung tampered with the text. But the text itself is often so
obscure, and the number of editions which appeared from that time
onward so great, especially during the T‘ang and Sung dynasties, that
it would be surprising if numerous corruptions had not managed to
creep in. Towards the middle of the Sung period, by which time all the
chief commentaries on Sun Tzŭ were in existence, a certain 吉天保 Chi
T‘ien-pao published a work in 15 _chüan_ entitled 十家孫子會注 “Sun Tzŭ
with the collected commentaries of ten writers.”[82] There was another
text, with variant readings put forward by Chu Fu of 大興 Ta-hsing,[83]
which also had supporters among the scholars of that period; but in
the Ming editions, Sun Hsing-yen tells us, these readings were for
some reason or other no longer put into circulation.[84] Thus, until
the end of the 18th century, the text in sole possession of the field
was one derived from Chi T‘ien-pao’s edition, although no actual copy
of that important work was known to have survived. That, therefore,
is the text of Sun Tzŭ which appears in the War section of the great
Imperial encyclopaedia printed in 1726, the 古今圖書集成 _Ku Chin T‘u
Shu Chi Ch‘êng_. Another copy at my disposal of what is practically
the same text, with slight variations, is that contained in the
周秦十一子 “Eleven philosophers of the Chou and Ch‘in dynasties”
[1758]. And the Chinese printed in Capt. Calthrop’s first edition
is evidently a similar version which has filtered through Japanese
channels. So things remained until 孫星衍 Sun Hsing-yen [1752–1818], a
distinguished antiquarian and classical scholar,[85] who claimed to be
an actual descendant of Sun Wu,[86] accidentally discovered a copy of
Chi T‘ien-pao’s long-lost work, when on a visit to the library of the
華陰 Hua-yin temple.[87] Appended to it was the 遺說 _I Shuo_ of 鄭友賢
Chêng Yu-hsien, mentioned in the _T‘ung Chih_, and also believed to
have perished.[88] This is what Sun Hsing-yen designates as the 古本
or 原本 “original edition (or text)”—a rather misleading name, for it
cannot by any means claim to set before us the text of Sun Tzŭ in
its pristine purity. Chi T‘ien-pao was a careless compiler,[89] and
appears to have been content to reproduce the somewhat debased version
current in his day, without troubling to collate it with the earliest
editions then available. Fortunately, two versions of Sun Tzŭ, even
older than the newly discovered work, were still extant, one buried
in the _T‘ung Tien_, Tu Yu’s great treatise on the Constitution, the
other similarly enshrined in the _T‘ai P‘ing Yü Lan_ encyclopaedia. In
both the complete text is to be found, though split up into fragments,
intermixed with other matter, and scattered piecemeal over a number of
different sections. Considering that the _Yü Lan_ takes us back to
the year 983, and the _T‘ung Tien_ about 200 years further still, to
the middle of the T‘ang dynasty, the value of these early transcripts
of Sun Tzŭ can hardly be overestimated. Yet the idea of utilising them
does not seem to have occurred to anyone until Sun Hsing-yen, acting
under Government instructions, undertook a thorough recension of the
text. This is his own account:—
Because of the numerous mistakes in the text of Sun Tzŭ which his
editors had handed down, the Government ordered that the ancient
edition [of Chi T‘ien-pao] should be used, and that the text
should be revised and corrected throughout. It happened that Wu
Nien-hu, the Governor Pi Kua, and Hsi, a graduate of the second
degree, had all devoted themselves to this study, probably
surpassing me therein. Accordingly, I have had the whole work cut
on blocks as a text-book for military men.[90]
The three individuals here referred to had evidently been occupied on
the text of Sun Tzŭ prior to Sun Hsing-yen’s commission, but we are
left in doubt as to the work they really accomplished. At any rate,
the new edition, when ultimately produced, appeared in the names of
Sun Hsing-yen and only one co-editor, 吳人驥 Wu Jên-chi. They took the
“original text” as their basis, and by careful comparison with the
older versions, as well as the extant commentaries and other sources
of information such as the _I Shuo_, succeeded in restoring a very
large number of doubtful passages, and turned out, on the whole, what
must be accepted as the closest approximation we are ever likely to
get to Sun Tzŭ’s original work. This is what will hereafter be
denominated the “standard text.”
The copy which I have used belongs to a re-issue dated 1877. It is in
6 _pên_, forming part of a well-printed set of 23 early philosophical
works in 83 _pên_.[91] It opens with a preface by Sun Hsing-yen
(largely quoted in this introduction), vindicating the traditional
view of Sun Tzŭ’s life and performances, and summing up in remarkably
concise fashion the evidence in its favour. This is followed by Ts‘ao
Kung’s preface to his edition, and the biography of Sun Tzŭ from
the _Shih Chi_, both translated above. Then come, firstly, Chêng
Yu-hsien’s _I Shuo_,[92] with author’s preface, and next, a short
miscellany of historical and bibliographical information entitled
孫子敘錄 _Sun Tzŭ Hsü Lu_, compiled by 畢以珣 Pi I-hsün. As regards the
body of the work, each separate sentence is followed by a note on the
text, if required, and then by the various commentaries appertaining
to it, arranged in chronological order. These we shall now proceed to
discuss briefly, one by one.
The Commentators.
Sun Tzŭ can boast an exceptionally long and distinguished roll of
commentators, which would do honour to any classic. 歐陽修 Ou-yang Hsiu
remarks on this fact, though he wrote before the tale was complete,
and rather ingeniously explains it by saying that the artifices of
war, being inexhaustible, must therefore be susceptible of treatment
in a great variety of ways.[93]
1. 曹操 Ts‘ao Ts‘ao or 曹公 Ts‘ao Kung, afterwards known as 魏武帝 Wei
Wu Ti [A.D. 155–220]. There is hardly any room for doubt that the
earliest commentary on Sun Tzŭ actually came from the pen of this
extraordinary man, whose biography in the _San Kuo Chih_[94] reads
like a romance. One of the greatest military geniuses that the world
has seen, and Napoleonic in the scale of his operations, he was
especially famed for the marvellous rapidity of his marches, which has
found expression in the line 說曹操曹操就到 “Talk of Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, and
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao will appear.” Ou-yang Hsiu says of him that he was a great
captain who “measured his strength against Tung Cho, Lü Pu and the two
Yüan, father and son, and vanquished them all; whereupon he divided
the Empire of Han with Wu and Shu, and made himself king. It is
recorded that whenever a council of war was held by Wei on the eve
of a far-reaching campaign, he had all his calculations ready; those
generals who made use of them did not lose one battle in ten;
those who ran counter to them in any particular saw their armies
incontinently beaten and put to flight.”[95] Ts‘ao Kung’s notes on Sun
Tzŭ, models of austere brevity, are so thoroughly characteristic
of the stern commander known to history, that it is hard indeed to
conceive of them as the work of a mere _littérateur_. Sometimes,
indeed, owing to extreme compression, they are scarcely intelligible
and stand no less in need of a commentary than the text itself.[96] As
we have seen, Ts‘ao Kung is the reputed author of the 新書, a book on
war in 100,000 odd words, now lost, but mentioned in the 魏志.[97]
2. 孟氏 Mêng Shih. The commentary which has come down to us under this
name is comparatively meagre, and nothing about the author is known.
Even his personal name has not been recorded. Chi T‘ien-pao’s edition
places him after Chia Lin, and 鼂公武 Ch‘ao Kung-wu also assigns him to
the T‘ang dynasty,[98] but this is obviously a mistake, as his work is
mentioned in the 隋書經籍志. In Sun Hsing-yen’s preface, he appears as
Mêng Shih of the Liang dynasty [502–557]. Others would identify him
with 孟康 Mêng K‘ang of the 3rd century. In the 宋史藝文志,[99] he is
named last of the 五家 “Five Commentators,” the others being Wei Wu Ti,
Tu Mu, Ch‘ên Hao and Chia Lin.
3. 李筌 Li Ch‘üan of the 8th century was a well-known writer on
military tactics. His 太白陰經 has been in constant use down to the
present day. The 通志 mentions 閫外春秋 (lives of famous generals from
the Chou to the T‘ang dynasty) as written by him.[100] He is also
generally supposed to be the real author of the popular Taoist
tract, the 陰符經. According to Ch‘ao Kung-wu and the _T‘ien-i-ko_
catalogue,[101] he followed the 太乙遁甲 text of Sun Tzŭ, which differs
considerably from those now extant. His notes are mostly short and to
the point, and he frequently illustrates his remarks by anecdotes from
Chinese history.
4. 杜佑 Tu Yu (died 812) did not publish a separate commentary on Sun
Tzŭ, his notes being taken from the _T‘ung Tien_, the encyclopaedic
treatise on the Constitution which was his life-work. They are largely
repetitions of Ts‘ao Kung and Mêng Shih, besides which it is believed
that he drew on the ancient commentaries of 王凌 Wang Ling and others.
Owing to the peculiar arrangement of the _T‘ung Tien_, he has to explain
each passage on its merits, apart from the context, and sometimes his
own explanation does not agree with that of Ts‘ao Kung, whom he always
quotes first. Though not strictly to be reckoned as one of the “Ten
Commentators,” he was added to their number by Chi T‘ien-pao, being
wrongly placed after his grandson Tu Mu.
5. 杜牧 Tu Mu (803–852) is perhaps best known as a poet—a bright star
even in the glorious galaxy of the T‘ang period. We learn from Ch‘ao
Kung-wu that although he had no practical experience of war, he was
extremely fond of discussing the subject, and was moreover well read
in the military history of the _Ch‘un Ch‘iu_ and _Chan Kuo_ eras.[102]
His notes, therefore, are well worth attention. They are very copious,
and replete with historical parallels. The gist of Sun Tzŭ’s work is
thus summarised by him: “Practise benevolence and justice, but on the
other hand make full use of artifice and measures of expediency.”[103]
He further declared that all the military triumphs and disasters of
the thousand years which had elapsed since Sun Wu’s death would, upon
examination, be found to uphold and corroborate, in every particular,
the maxims contained in his book.[104] Tu Mu’s somewhat spiteful
charge against Ts‘ao Kung has already been considered elsewhere.
6. 陳皥 Ch‘ên Hao appears to have been a contemporary of Tu Mu. Ch‘ao
Kung-wu says that he was impelled to write a new commentary on Sun Tzŭ
because Ts‘ao Kung’s on the one hand was too obscure and subtle, and
that of Tu Mu on the other too long-winded and diffuse.[105] Ou-yang
Hsiu, writing in the middle of the 11th century, calls Ts‘ao Kung, Tu
Mu and Ch‘ên Hao the three chief commentators on Sun Tzŭ (三家), and
observes that Ch‘ên Hao is continually attacking Tu Mu’s shortcomings.
His commentary, though not lacking in merit, must rank below those of
his predecessors.
7. 賈林 Chia Lin is known to have lived under the T‘ang dynasty, for
his commentary on Sun Tzŭ is mentioned in the 唐書 and was afterwards
republished by 紀燮 Chi Hsieh of the same dynasty together with those
of Mêng Shih and Tu Yu.[106] It is of somewhat scanty texture, and in
point of quality, too, perhaps the least valuable of the eleven.
8. 梅堯臣 Mei Yao-ch‘ên (1002–1060), commonly known by his “style”
as Mei 聖兪 Shêng-yü, was, like Tu Mu, a poet of distinction. His
commentary was published with a laudatory preface by the great Ou-yang
Hsiu, from which we may cull the following:—
Later scholars have misread Sun Tzŭ, distorting his words and
trying to make them square with their own one-sided views. Thus,
though commentators have not been lacking, only a few have proved
equal to the task. My friend Shêng-yü has not fallen into this
mistake. In attempting to provide a critical commentary for Sun
Tzŭ’s work, he does not lose sight of the fact that these sayings
were intended for states engaged in internecine warfare; that the
author is not concerned with the military conditions prevailing
under the sovereigns of the three ancient dynasties,[107] nor with
the nine punitive measures prescribed to the Minister of War.[108]
Again, Sun Wu loved brevity of diction, but his meaning is always
deep. Whether the subject be marching an army, or handling
soldiers, or estimating the enemy, or controlling the forces of
victory, it is always systematically treated; the sayings are
bound together in strict logical sequence, though this has been
obscured by commentators who have probably failed to grasp their
meaning. In his own commentary, Mei Shêng-yü has brushed aside all
the obstinate prejudices of these critics, and has tried to bring
out the true meaning of Sun Tzŭ himself. In this way, the clouds
of confusion have been dispersed and the sayings made clear. I am
convinced that the present work deserves to be handed down side by
side with the three great commentaries; and for a great deal that
they find in the sayings, coming generations will have constant
reason to thank my friend Shêng-yü.[109]
Making some allowance for the exuberance of friendship, I am inclined
to endorse this favourable judgment, and would certainly place him
above Ch‘ên Hao in order of merit.
9. 王晳 Wang Hsi, also of the Sung dynasty, is decidedly original
in some of his interpretations, but much less judicious than Mei
Yao-ch‘ên, and on the whole not a very trustworthy guide. He is fond
of comparing his own commentary with that of Ts‘ao Kung, but the
comparison is not often flattering to him. We learn from Ch‘ao Kung-wu
that Wang Hsi revised the ancient text of Sun Tzŭ, filling up lacunae
and correcting mistakes.[110]
10. 何延錫 Ho Yen-hsi of the Sung dynasty. The personal name of this
commentator is given as above by 鄭樵 Chêng Ch‘iao in the _T‘ung Chih_,
written about the middle of the twelfth century, but he appears simply
as 何氏 Ho Shih in the _Yü Hai_, and Ma Tuan-lin quotes Ch‘ao Kung-wu
as saying that his personal name is unknown. There seems to be no
reason to doubt Chêng Ch‘iao’s statement, otherwise I should have
been inclined to hazard a guess and identify him with one 何去非
Ho Ch‘ü-fei, the author of a short treatise on war entitled 備論,
who lived in the latter part of the 11th century.[111] Ho Shih’s
commentary, in the words of the _T‘ien-i-ko_ catalogue, 有所裨益
“contains helpful additions” here and there, but is chiefly remarkable
for the copious extracts taken, in adapted form, from the dynastic
histories and other sources.
11. 張預 Chang Yü. The list closes with a commentator of no great
originality perhaps, but gifted with admirable powers of lucid
exposition. His commentary is based on that of Ts‘ao Kung, whose terse
sentences he contrives to expand and develop in masterly fashion.
Without Chang Yü, it is safe to say that much of Ts‘ao Kung’s
commentary would have remained cloaked in its pristine obscurity and
therefore valueless. His work is not mentioned in the Sung history,
the _T‘ung K‘ao_, or the _Yü Hai_, but it finds a niche in the _T‘ung
Chih_, which also names him as the author of the 百將傳 “Lives of
Famous Generals.”[112]
It is rather remarkable that the last-named four should all have
flourished within so short a space of time. Ch‘ao Kung-wu accounts for
it by saying: “During the early years of the Sung dynasty the Empire
enjoyed a long spell of peace, and men ceased to practise the art
of war. But when [Chao] Yüan-hao’s rebellion came [1038–42] and the
frontier generals were defeated time after time, the Court made
strenuous enquiry for men skilled in war, and military topics became
the vogue amongst all the high officials. Hence it is that the
commentators of Sun Tzŭ in our dynasty belong mainly to that
period.”[113]
Besides these eleven commentators, there are several others whose work
has not come down to us. The _Sui Shu_ mentions four, namely 王凌 Wang
Ling (often quoted by Tu Yu as 王子); 張子尙 Chang Tzŭ-shang; 賈詡 Chia
Hsü of 魏 Wei;[114] and 沈友 Shên Yu of 吳 Wu. The _T‘ang Shu_ adds
孫鎬 Sun Hao, and the _T‘ung Chih_ 蕭吉 Hsiao Chi, while the _T‘u Shu_
mentions a Ming commentator, 黃潤玉 Huang Jun-yü. It is possible that
some of these may have been merely collectors and editors of other
commentaries, like Chi T‘ien-pao and Chi Hsieh, mentioned above.
Certainly in the case of the latter, the entry 紀夑注孫子 in the _T‘ung
K‘ao_, without the following note, would give one to understand that
he had written an independent commentary of his own.
There are two works, described in the _Ssu K‘u Ch‘üan Shu_[115] and no
doubt extremely rare, which I should much like to have seen. One is
entitled 孫子參同, in 5 _chüan_. It gives selections from four new
commentators, probably of the Ming dynasty, as well as from the eleven
known to us. The names of the four are 解元 Hsieh Yüan; 張鏊 Chang Ao;
李村 Li Ts‘ai; and 黃治徵 Huang Chih-chêng. The other work is 孫子彚徵
in 4 _chüan_, compiled by 鄭端 Chêng Tuan of the present dynasty. It is
a compendium of information on ancient warfare, with special reference
to Sun Tzŭ’s 13 chapters.
Appreciations of Sun Tzŭ.
Sun Tzŭ has exercised a potent fascination over the minds of some of
China’s greatest men. Among the famous generals who are known to have
studied his pages with enthusiasm may be mentioned 韓信 Han Hsin (_d._
B.C. 196),[116] 馮異 Fêng I (d. A.D. 34),[117] 呂蒙 Lü Mêng (_d._
219),[118] and 岳飛 Yo Fei (1103–1141).[119] The opinion of Ts‘ao Kung,
who disputes with Han Hsin the highest place in Chinese military
annals, has already been recorded.[120] Still more remarkable, in one
way, is the testimony of purely literary men, such as 蘇洵 Su Hsün (the
father of Su Tung-p‘o), who wrote several essays on military topics,
all of which owe their chief inspiration to Sun Tzŭ. The following
short passage by him is preserved in the _Yü Hai:_[121]—
Sun Wu’s saying, that in war one cannot make certain of
conquering,[122] is very different indeed from what other books
tell us.[123] Wu Ch‘i was a man of the same stamp as Sun Wu: they
both wrote books on war, and they are linked together in popular
speech as “Sun and Wu.” But Wu Ch‘i’s remarks on war are less
weighty, his rules are rougher and more crudely stated, and there
is not the same unity of plan as in Sun Tzŭ’s work, where the
style is terse, but the meaning fully brought out.[124]
The 性理彚要, ch. 17, contains the following extract from the 藝圃折衷
“Impartial Judgments in the Garden of Literature” by 鄭厚 Chêng Hou:—
Sun Tzŭ’s 13 chapters are not only the staple and base of all
military men’s training, but also compel the most careful
attention of scholars and men of letters. His sayings are terse
yet elegant, simple yet profound, perspicuous and eminently
practical. Such works as the _Lun Yü_, the _I Ching_ and the great
Commentary,[125] as well as the writings of Mencius, Hsün K‘uang
and Yang Chu, all fall below the level of Sun Tzŭ.[126]
Chu Hsi, commenting on this, fully admits the first part of the
criticism, although he dislikes the audacious comparison with
the venerated classical works. Language of this sort, he says,
“encourages a ruler’s bent towards unrelenting warfare and reckless
militarism.”[127]
Apologies for War.
Accustomed as we are to think of China as the greatest peace-loving
nation on earth, we are in some danger of forgetting that her
experience of war in all its phases has also been such as no modern
State can parallel. Her long military annals stretch back to a point
at which they are lost in the mists of time. She had built the Great
Wall and was maintaining a huge standing army along her frontier
centuries before the first Roman legionary was seen on the Danube.
What with the perpetual collisions of the ancient feudal States,
the grim conflicts with Huns, Turks and other invaders after the
centralisation of government, the terrific upheavals which accompanied
the overthrow of so many dynasties, besides the countless rebellions
and minor disturbances that have flamed up and flickered out again one
by one, it is hardly too much to say that the clash of arms has never
ceased to resound in one portion or another of the Empire.
No less remarkable is the succession of illustrious captains to whom
China can point with pride. As in all countries, the greatest are
found emerging at the most fateful crises of her history. Thus, Po
Ch‘i stands out conspicuous in the period when Ch‘in was entering upon
her final struggle with the remaining independent states. The stormy
years which followed the break-up of the Ch‘in dynasty are illumined
by the transcendent genius of Han Hsin. When the House of Han in turn
is tottering to its fall, the great and baleful figure of Ts‘ao Ts‘ao
dominates the scene. And in the establishment of the T‘ang dynasty,
one of the mightiest tasks achieved by man, the superhuman energy of
Li Shih-min (afterwards the Emperor T‘ai Tsung) was seconded by the
brilliant strategy of Li Ching. None of these generals need fear
comparison with the greatest names in the military history of Europe.
In spite of all this, the great body of Chinese sentiment, from Lao
Tzŭ downwards, and especially as reflected in the standard literature
of Confucianism, has been consistently pacific and intensely opposed
to militarism in any form. It is such an uncommon thing to find any of
the literati defending warfare on principle, that I have thought it
worth while to collect and translate a few passages in which the
unorthodox view is upheld. The following, by Ssŭ-ma Ch‘ien, shows that
for all his ardent admiration of Confucius, he was yet no advocate of
peace at any price:—
Military weapons are the means used by the Sage to punish
violence and cruelty, to give peace to troublous times, to remove
difficulties and dangers, and to succour those who are in peril.
Every animal with blood in its veins and horns on its head will
fight when it is attacked. How much more so will man, who carries
in his breast the faculties of love and hatred, joy and anger!
When he is pleased, a feeling of affection springs up within him;
when angry, his poisoned sting is brought into play. That is the
natural law which governs his being.... What then shall be said of
those scholars of our time, blind to all great issues, and without
any appreciation of relative values, who can only bark out their
stale formulas about “virtue” and “civilisation,” condemning the
use of military weapons? They will surely bring our country to
impotence and dishonour and the loss of her rightful heritage; or,
at the very least, they will bring about invasion and rebellion,
sacrifice of territory and general enfeeblement. Yet they
obstinately refuse to modify the position they have taken up. The
truth is that, just as in the family the teacher must not spare
the rod, and punishments cannot be dispensed with in the State, so
military chastisement can never be allowed to fall into abeyance
in the Empire. All one can say is that this power will be
exercised wisely by some, foolishly by others, and that among
those who bear arms some will be loyal and others rebellious.[128]
The next piece is taken from Tu Mu’s preface to his commentary on
Sun Tzŭ:—
War may be defined as punishment, which is one of the functions of
government. It was the profession of Chung Yu and Jan Ch‘iu, both
disciples of Confucius. Nowadays, the holding of trials and
hearing of litigation, the imprisonment of offenders and their
execution by flogging in the market-place, are all done by
officials. But the wielding of huge armies, the throwing down of
fortified cities, the haling of women and children into captivity,
and the beheading of traitors—this is also work which is done by
officials. The objects of the rack[129] and of military weapons
are essentially the same. There is no intrinsic difference between
the punishment of flogging and cutting off heads in war. For the
lesser infractions of law, which are easily dealt with, only a
small amount of force need be employed: hence the institution of
torture and flogging. For more serious outbreaks of lawlessness,
which are hard to suppress, a greater amount of force is
necessary: hence the use of military weapons and wholesale
decapitation. In both cases, however, the end in view is to get
rid of wicked people, and to give comfort and relief to the
good....[130]
Chi-sun asked Jan Yu, saying: “Have you, Sir, acquired your
military aptitude by study, or is it innate?” Jan Yu replied: “It
has been acquired by study.”[131] “How can that be so,” said
Chi-sun, “seeing that you are a disciple of Confucius?” “It is a
fact,” replied Jan Yu; “I was taught by Confucius. It is fitting
that the great Sage should exercise both civil and military
functions, though to be sure my instruction in the art of fighting
has not yet gone very far.”
Now, who the author was of this rigid distinction between the
“civil” and the “military,” and the limitation of each to a
separate sphere of action, or in what year of which dynasty it
was first introduced, is more than I can say. But, at any rate,
it has come about that the members of the governing class are
quite afraid of enlarging on military topics, or do so only in a
shamefaced manner. If any are bold enough to discuss the subject,
they are at once set down as eccentric individuals of coarse and
brutal propensities. This is an extraordinary instance of the way
in which, through sheer lack of reasoning, men unhappily lose
sight of fundamental principles.[132]
When the Duke of Chou was minister under Ch‘êng Wang, he
regulated ceremonies and made music, and venerated the arts of
scholarship and learning; yet when the barbarians of the River Huai
revolted,[133] he sallied forth and chastised them. When Confucius
held office under the Duke of Lu, and a meeting was convened at
Chia-ku,[134] he said: “If pacific negotiations are in progress,
warlike preparations should have been made beforehand.” He rebuked
and shamed the Marquis of Ch‘i, who cowered under him and dared
not proceed to violence. How can it be said that these two great
Sages had no knowledge of military matters?[135]
We have seen that the great Chu Hsi held Sun Tzŭ in high esteem. He
also appeals to the authority of the Classics:—
Our Master Confucius, answering Duke Ling of Wei, said: “I have
never studied matters connected with armies and battalions.”[136]
Replying to K‘ung Wên-tzŭ, he said: “I have not been instructed
about buff-coats and weapons.”[137] But if we turn to the meeting
at Chia-ku,[138] we find that he used armed force against the men
of Lai,[139] so that the marquis of Ch‘i was overawed. Again, when
the inhabitants of Pi revolted, he ordered his officers to attack
them, whereupon they were defeated and fled in confusion.[140]
He once uttered the words: “If I fight, I conquer.”[141] And
Jan Yu also said: “The Sage exercises both civil and military
functions.”[142] Can it be a fact that Confucius never studied or
received instruction in the art of war? We can only say that he
did not specially choose matters connected with armies and
fighting to be the subject of his teaching.[143]