But why is it that while so little of pre-Chou writing has remained after the burning of books, there is in existence such an abundance of Chou literature? A possible explanation is that the Chou literature was of such beauty and legibility, as compared with literature of previous ages, that it had little difficulty of being remembered by heart by those scholars who survived the killing of Shih Huang Ti.
Another explanation is that the burning of the books was not as thorough and widespread as the historians would have us believe. It is safe to say that an edict of this nature would at best be carried out only half-heartedly in the provinces. The possibility was that books of great antiquity, being rare, were mostly concentrated in a few hands or in the capital and could be easily collected and burned. On the other hand, the offspring of the Chou scholars who treasured the literary legacy of their fathers or grandfathers might have secreted away their family heirlooms while they handed over other books for burning. And in order to keep their forefathers' literary legacy secure, they might even have put on the appearance of being more than willing to part company with their other books.
Whatever were the reasons, the literature of the Chou Dynasty seemed to have projected into space in full bloom without roots and stalks to tell its origin. And the literary flowers were of such great varieties and beauty that they have hardly been equaled in any period in later history. This is particularly true with the writing of stories. Hardly have any later generations produced scholars who could write stories with more originality, boldness of thought, perfection of language, and vividness of characterization.
Important story writers of the period were Chuang Tse, who specialized in fables and allegories; Tso Chiu Min, who was made immortal by his sketches of the personalities of a period in the Chou Dynasty known as the Spring and Autumn; and Han Fei-tse who combined fact and fiction and left a rich collection of tales for posterity. Mencius told an occasional tale to illustrate his point but he is not specially known for story telling. Occasional stories are also found in the so-called Tse books which were written by various scholars of the time. The Warring States Annals (戰國策), though compiled by Liu Shiang in the Han Dynasty, contain stories and anecdotes of the Chou personalities which had been unearthed at his time. The fables in this work have become important literary allusions and a valuable part of the Chinese spoken language.
Chuang Tse was born during the Era of the Warring States in the Chou Dynasty at Moong in the country of Sung, which is located at a place some seven miles north of Shang Chiu Hsien in the present Honan Province. As far as can be ascertained, he lived in 369-286 B.C. Not much of his life is known. He served as a minor official in Moong. He seemed to have been offered the office of the prime minister in Chi and Chu but had turned down both offers because he believed he could find greater pleasure in his free way of life.
He writes mostly in fables and parables. His animals as a rule use the universe as their playground. "In the North Sea," says he in one of his stories, "there is a fish by the name of Kwun, whose length is of unknown thousands of li (⅓ mile). Kwun transformed itself into a bird in the shape of a roc. The back of the roc measured unknown thousands of li. When it got angry and took to flight, its wings looked like a hanging cloud from Heaven. When this bird went by sea, it went to the South Sea, also known as Heaven Lake. Chi Kai, a recorder of the fabulous, says: 'When the roc flew to the South Sea, its wings beat the water for three thousand li and soared to a height of ninety thousand Ii. Its flight lasted six months before it came to rest.'''
Chuang Tse has names for many gods, and like his animals, they use the universe as their playground, as witness the following:
The autumn freshet came. Hundreds of streams flowed into the river. The main stream is so big that between the two shores and the islet on the river one could not make out the difference between an ox and a horse. The River God was very much pleased and thought that all the beauty in the world rested in him alone. He flowed his way down east till he reached the North Sea. He looked east and saw no end of water. The River God turned his face around, looked at the sea and sighed: "I am like the one who has heard only one millionth of the truth and thought no one could be the equal of him."
Chuang Tse believed in seeking pleasures of life and disdained death. "How do I know, says he," that the desire to live is not a mistake? How can I tell that abhorrence of death is not like an orphan who is so used to his place of adoption that he does not like to return home? The maid of Li was the daughter of a guard at the frontier town of Ai of that country. When she was first brought to the court of the King of Chin, she cried till her lapel was all wet. But after she had stayed in the comfortable bed with the king and had tasted all the delicacies of the court, she regretted she had ever wept. Therefore, how do I know that the dead would not regret that they had ever wanted to live?"
His disregard for death may be further witnessed by the following story:
Chuang Tse's wife died. When Hui Tse went to condole with him, he found Chuang Tse squatting with outstretched legs singing and beating an earthen pot to keep time. Hui Tse said: "After you lived with her, after she reared a son for you and grown old and died, it would be bad enough not to cry. Don't you think you have gone too far by singing and beating the pot?"
"No," said Chuang Tse, "when she first died, I couldn't help feeling sad. But then when I thought of it, she did not have life at the beginning; nor shape; nor breath. Mixed in the cosmos, she changed to breath, from breath to a shape; from shape to life. And now she has changed to death, all of which is not unlike the change of four seasons, spring, autumn, winter and summer. While she was lying peacefully in the chamber, if I should howl and cry, I would consider myself as failing to understand life. Therefore, I stopped from feeling aggrieved."
Such a man has little use for high position and worldly honor, which explains why he turned down the offer of premiership of the two of the biggest states of the time. In the case of Chi, he tells how it happened in the following words:
While Chuang Tse was fishing on the Pu River, the King of Chu sent two of his officials to pay him compliments, saying, "We wish to entrust you with our government." Chuang Tse continued fishing without looking back, saying, "I have heard that there is a supernatural tortoise in Chu, which has been dead these three thousand years. The king put it in a bamboo box and enshrined it in the temple. Do you think the tortoise would rather die and leave his shell to be treasured or live and wiggle his tail in the mud? "
"He would rather live and wiggle his tail in the mud," was the answer.
"Please go away," said Chuang Tse. "I would rather live and wiggle my tail in the mud."
As is true with all fable writers, Chuan Tse likes to tell a story with a moral or on his philosophy of life. Following are some of his best known stories:
King Yuan of the Kingdom of Sung had a dream one night of a man with flowing hair looking in at the side entrance to the palace and crying: "I came from the stream of Chai Lu. While on a mission to the river god, I was caught by a fisherman named Yui Chu."
King Yuan woke and sent for a fortuneteller, who told him that what he had dreamed of was a divine tortoise. The king asked if there was any fisherman by the name of Yui Chu and was told by his attendants that there was. The king said: "Send for Yui Chu."
The next day, Yui Chu came to the court.
"What have you got?" the King asked him.
"My net caught a white tortoise," he answered, "with a circumference of five feet."
"Send your tortoise here," the King commanded.
When the tortoise was brought the King was undecided as to whether to kill it or let it live. In his doubt, he sought enlightenment by divination and was told to kill the tortoise and use its shell for divination. Therefore, he had the tortoise killed, and in seventy-two divinations, it did not miss once.
"The divine tortoise could appear in dream to King Yuan," Confucius commented, "but it could not escape Yui Chu's net. It was wise enough not to miss once in seventy-two divinations, but not enough to escape the disaster of having its intestines severed. Thus, wisdom is sometimes confined and divinity has its limitations."
Hsi Szu (famous beauty of the country of Yueh in the Chou Dynasty) had heart disease and looked at the people of her village with knitted brows. An ugly woman of the same village saw her beauty. Like her, she also held her heart and looked at the villagers with knitted brows. When the rich villagers saw her, they went home and shut their doors and refused to come out. When the poor villagers saw her, they took their wives and children and sped away from her.
Chuang Tse and Hui Tse were loitering on a bridge of the Hao River, when Chuang Tse said: "The white fish are swimming leisurely. They must be enjoying themselves."
Hui Tse said: "You are not fish; how do you know the joy of fish?"
Chuang Tse said: "You are not I; how do you know I don't know the joy of fish?"
Hui Tse said: "It is true that I am not you and wouldn't know you. But, after all, you are not fish, so decidedly you would not know the joy of fish."
"Let us start from the beginning," said Chuang Tse, "You asked me. 'How do you know the joy of fish?' It showed that you knew I knew the joy of fish. As to how I learned the joy of fish, I learned it on the River Hao."
Chuang Tse has left an important imprint in the Chinese literature and daily life. His interpretation of Lao Tse and his fables and his creations of mythical gods and animals have placed him as founder of the Tao religion only next in importance to that of Lao Tse. It is not without reason that aside from Confucius and Mencius, he is probably the most respected of the Chou scholars.