An Interpretation and Inquiry into Mengzi's "Ox Mountain" Chapter

This article was translated from the original Chinese by AI. Nuances may differ from the source.

--An In-Depth Study of Pre-Qin Theories of Human Nature, Cultivation of the Heart-Mind, and the Cosmology of the Way of Heaven

Author: Xuanji Editorial Board

General Preface

Of the seven books of the Mengzi, none discusses heart-mind and human nature more incisively than the Gaozi chapters. And within the Gaozi upper chapter, none penetrates more deeply into these matters than the passage on "The Trees of Ox Mountain." This passage employs the mountain's timber as its metaphor, axes and hatchets as its image, cattle and sheep as its analogy, the night air as its evidence, and the hours of daylight as its test. Layer upon layer, link by link, it exhaustively illuminates the principles of the original heart-mind, innate moral knowledge, the sprouts of goodness, their loss and dissipation, their shackling and destruction, and their nurture and preservation. It may rightly be called the master outline of Mengzi's learning of heart-mind and human nature, and the very core of his theory of innate goodness.

Yet from antiquity to the present, though many have read this chapter, few have truly entered its inner sanctum. Why is this so$1 Because the matters it addresses cannot be encompassed by the two words "innate goodness" alone. Within it lie embedded several of the most fundamental questions of pre-Qin philosophy: What, in the end, is human nature$2 What is the relationship between heart-mind and nature$3 Whence comes the root of goodness$4 What gives rise to evil$5 How should the work of self-cultivation be undertaken$6 How is the continuity between the Way of Heaven and the way of humanity possible$7 Each of these was a focal point of debate among the Hundred Schools of pre-Qin thought, and the very foundation upon which the sage-kings of high antiquity governed the realm.

This article proposes to proceed from the perspectives of pre-Qin and high antiquity, taking Mengzi's "Ox Mountain" chapter as its core text, and drawing extensively upon the Book of Documents, the Book of Songs, the Book of Changes, the Analects, the Zuo Commentary, the Discourses of the States, the Record of Rites, the Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean, the Xunzi, the Laozi, the Zhuangzi, the Guanzi, the Spring and Autumn Annals of Mr. Lu, and the commentary of the Han scholars Zhao Qi and Dong Zhongshu, among other pre-Qin and Han texts, in order to conduct a comprehensive, penetrating, and meticulous reading and inquiry. Throughout, the article strives to ask "why" at every turn and to seek answers from within the pre-Qin intellectual system itself; it strives to incorporate historical cases and the interpretations of earlier worthies so that the discussion does not lapse into empty abstraction.

Part One: Close Reading and Line-by-Line Explication

Chapter 1: "The Trees of Ox Mountain Were Once Beautiful" -- The Primal Imagery of the Mountain-Timber Metaphor

Section 1: An Inquiry into Ox Mountain: Which Mountain$8 Where$9 And Why This Metaphor$10

Mengzi opens with the words: "The trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful" (Niushan zhi mu chang mei yi). This single sentence, seemingly a plain statement, in fact contains profound significance.

First, where is Ox Mountain$11 Zhao Qi's Commentary on the Mengzi annotates: "Ox Mountain is a mountain of Qi, located south of Linzi." Linzi was the capital of the state of Qi. Qi was a great, powerful, and wealthy state of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. The Zuo Commentary, Duke Xiang, Year 25, records the Cui Zhu affair -- "The wife of the Lord of Tang of Qi was the sister of Dongguo Yan" -- all concerning events in Qi. The prosperity of the Qi capital Linzi is described in the Strategies of the Warring States (Qi Strategies, Part 1), which records the words of Su Qin: "On the roads of Linzi, chariot hubs strike one another, people's shoulders rub together, linked garments form curtains, raised sleeves form canopies, and the flinging of sweat makes rain." One can see from this the density of population and the splendor of the city.

Ox Mountain lies south of Linzi, in the suburbs of a great state's capital -- this is the distinctiveness of its geographical position. Why did Mengzi not choose some other mountain$12 Why did he not use Mount Tai as his metaphor, nor Mount Yi, nor Mount Kuaiji, but selected Ox Mountain alone$13 There must be a deeper significance here.

First, Ox Mountain "lies in the suburbs of a great state." The "suburbs" (jiao) refer to the land beyond the city walls. The Rites of Zhou, "Offices of Earth," section on the Tax Master, states: "The inner city grounds are assigned to the capital districts, gardens to the field and orchard lands, and residential fields, scholar fields, and merchant fields to the near suburbs." The suburbs are the transitional zone between the urban settlement and the wilds. Ox Mountain sits precisely at this boundary -- near human habitation yet belonging to the mountain forests. This is the fundamental reason it was felled: it was too close to people.

Why does proximity to people lead to felling$14 Because human desires are most directly imposed upon the nearest things at hand. When people need timber, firewood, or land, they inevitably take first from what is near, then extend to what is far. This is analogous to the human conscience: the sprouts of goodness most readily eroded by daily desires and the enticements of external things are precisely those that are most immediate and most accessible. Mengzi's use of Ox Mountain -- felled because it "lies in the suburbs of a great state" -- subtly figures the human conscience surrounded by the clamor of sensory pleasures and material gain, daily eroded by them.

Second, the mountain is named "Ox." Why is it called Ox Mountain$15 Though there is no definitive evidence, a mountain named "Ox" may have been so called because it resembled an ox in shape, or because oxen were commonly pastured there. Whatever the reason, the image of the "ox" does in fact appear later in the text: "cattle and sheep then come to graze upon it." Could this have been a deliberate choice by Mengzi$16 The very name Ox Mountain already implies the fate of being "grazed upon," just as the human conscience already exists within the peril of being "shackled and destroyed."

Third, the three characters "once beautiful" (chang mei yi) are critically important. "Once" (chang) means "formerly." "Beautiful" (mei) means luxuriant and flourishing. "Once beautiful" states that originally the mountain was lush and lovely, but now it is no longer so. This single word "once" introduces the dimension of time, establishing a tension between "past beauty" and "present ugliness." This is precisely the fundamental logical structure of Mengzi's theory of innate goodness: human nature is originally good ("once beautiful"), and present ungoodness is not the original state of human nature but something caused by later circumstances.

Section 2: The Symbolism of "Trees": Plant Imagery in Pre-Qin Literature

In pre-Qin literature, using plants and trees to figure human character and using forests to figure virtue was an exceedingly common device. Understanding this background is essential for a deeper appreciation of Mengzi's metaphor.

The Book of Songs, "Lesser Odes," "Si Gan" (Abundant Growth), says: "Like bamboo clustered thick, like pines grown tall" -- using bamboo's dense growth and the pine's towering vigor to figure the flourishing of a clan.

The Book of Songs, "Airs of Zhou's South," "Tao Yao" (Peach Blossoms), says: "The peach tree is young and fresh, brilliant are its blossoms. This girl goes to wed, fitting for her household" -- using the beauty of peach blossoms to figure the virtue and grace of a young woman.

The Book of Songs, "Airs of Wei," "Qi Ao" (Bends of the Qi), says: "Behold the bends of the Qi, with green bamboo so fine. There is our elegant lord, as if cut, as if polished, as if carved, as if ground" -- using the beauty of green bamboo to figure the cultivated virtue of the gentleman.

The Book of Songs, "Lesser Odes," "Xiao Bian" (The Little Valley), says: "The mulberry and the catalpa -- one must show them reverence. No gaze that is not toward one's father, no reliance that is not upon one's mother" -- using mulberry and catalpa trees to figure the grace of parents.

The Book of Songs, "Greater Odes," "Han Lu" (The Dry Foothills), says: "The kite flies up to heaven, the fish leaps in the deep. Might the gracious lord not raise up men$17" Though not directly using trees as figures, the idea of "raising up men" is analogous to cultivating vegetation.

Still more important is a passage from the Guanzi, "On the Cultivation of Authority": "For a plan of one year, nothing equals planting grain; for a plan of ten years, nothing equals planting trees; for a plan of a lifetime, nothing equals cultivating people. What is planted once and harvested once -- that is grain; planted once and harvested ten times -- that is trees; planted once and harvested a hundred times -- that is people." This parallel discussion of "cultivating people" and "planting trees" directly echoes the logic by which Mengzi uses mountain timber to figure the human heart-mind.

Why did the people of pre-Qin times so frequently use plants and trees to figure human beings$18 This likely has intimate connections to the lived experience of the ancient ancestors. Those forebears lived among mountains and forests and had the most direct perception of the flourishing and withering, growth and decay, of vegetation. Plants need soil, rain, and sunlight to grow, just as people need instruction, a proper environment, and nurture to mature. Plants wither from axes, drought, and insects, just as people decline through material desires, bad companions, and tyrannical governance. This kind of "analogy between one form of life and another" is one of the most elemental yet most profound modes of thought in pre-Qin philosophy.

Mengzi's use of "mountain timber" as his metaphor in this chapter has its own special character. He does not use "a single tree" as his figure, but "all the trees on an entire mountain." What does this imply$19 It implies that his concern is not merely with individual sprouts of goodness, but with the overall condition of the entire good nature within the human heart-mind. The flourishing of the mountain's trees is a holistic flourishing; the barrenness of the mountain is a holistic barrenness. The preservation or loss of the human conscience is likewise a matter of holistic preservation or loss.

Section 3: The Meaning of "Beautiful" -- The Unity of Aesthetics and Morality in Pre-Qin Thought

The word "beautiful" (mei) in "the trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful" is glossed by Zhao Qi as "luxuriantly beautiful." Yet in the pre-Qin context, this word is by no means merely a description of external form; it carries within it a deeper value judgment.

In pre-Qin thought, "beauty" (mei) and "goodness" (shan) were often interchangeable. The Analects, "Eight Rows of Dancers" (Ba Yi), records:

The Master spoke of the Shao music: "It is perfectly beautiful, and also perfectly good." He spoke of the Wu music: "It is perfectly beautiful, but not perfectly good."

Here the Master distinguishes "beauty" from "goodness," yet the very fact that they can be mentioned together shows the inner connection between them. The Shao music's "perfect beauty and perfect goodness" is the complete unity of form and content, outer and inner.

Mengzi, "Fully Realizing the Heart-Mind," Part 2, also says:

"What can be desired is called good; having it within oneself is called trustworthy; being filled with it is called beautiful; being filled with it and radiating brilliance is called great; being great and transforming is called sagely; being sagely and unfathomable is called divine."

Here "beauty" is defined as "fullness" -- the complete realization of inner goodness. "Fullness is called beauty" -- this shows precisely that, in Mengzi's philosophical system, the fundamental meaning of "beauty" is the replete manifestation of inner goodness.

Therefore, the "beauty" in "the trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful" speaks on the surface of the luxuriance of the mountain's trees, but at a deeper level speaks of the original goodness of human nature. The "beauty" of the mountain's trees is visible and intuitive; the "beauty" (goodness) of human nature is internal and subtle. Mengzi uses visible beauty to figure invisible goodness -- therein lies the subtlety of his argument.

Why does Mengzi employ this method of "figuring the invisible by means of the visible"$20 Because whether human nature is good or not good is an exceedingly difficult question to prove by direct experience. Gaozi said, "Human nature is like swirling water: breach the bank to the east and it flows east; breach it to the west and it flows west" -- meaning that human nature is neither good nor not-good, and can go either way. This view seems reasonable, but in fact understands "nature" as a kind of neutral, undetermined potential. To refute this, Mengzi had to find a way to make people intuitively feel what "original goodness" is. The mountain's having been "once beautiful" provides precisely this intuition: you see a barren mountain -- can you not imagine that it was once lush$21 You see an ungood person -- can you not imagine that they originally had a good heart$22 The former is easy to imagine; from it, the latter also becomes comprehensible.

Chapter 2: "Being in the Suburbs of a Great State, Axes and Hatchets Felled Them -- Could They Remain Beautiful$23" -- On External Harm

Section 1: "In the Suburbs of a Great State" -- The Influence of Environment on Human Nature

The phrase "being in the suburbs of a great state" identifies the external cause of the mountain's deforestation: its location in the near suburbs of a great state's capital. This single phrase contains exceedingly profound thought: the harm that environment inflicts upon original nature.

What is a "great state"$24 In the pre-Qin context, a "great state" denotes not only vast territory and large population, but also the intensity of desires and the enormity of consumption. The Zuo Commentary, Duke Yin, Year 1, records the affairs of Duke Zhuang of Zheng: "A large city should not exceed one-third of the capital; a medium one, one-fifth; a small one, one-ninth" -- one can see how large the capitals of great states were. A great capital required enormous quantities of timber for constructing palaces and residences, manufacturing implements, and providing fuel.

The Book of Songs, "Greater Odes," "Ling Tai" (The Sacred Tower), records King Wen's construction of the Sacred Tower: "He planned the Sacred Tower, he laid it out and built it. The common people labored at it, and it was completed in no time." Though the poem says King Wen's tower did not overtax the people, building a tower necessarily required timber, and timber necessarily required felling trees -- this principle cannot be altered.

The Book of Documents includes a chapter called "Zi Cai" (Timber of the Catalpa), whose very title relates to "timber." Zi cai means worked timber. This chapter uses the working of timber as a metaphor for governing the people: "As one who works catalpa timber, having diligently hewn and shaped it, then applies vermilion and lacquer." The meaning is that governing the people is like working timber: first one must diligently cut and shape, then apply ornament. Yet this metaphor also contains an implicit problem: the "working" of timber (cutting and shaping) is itself a transformation of the tree's natural state.

In the capital of a great state, the population is dense and desires are numerous. People need timber for building houses, making carts, and producing firewood. The timber of Ox Mountain, being nearest to the capital, was the first to bear the brunt and naturally the first to be felled. This is analogous to a person living amidst sensory pleasures and material gain, whose conscience is the first to be eroded.

Why is "being in the suburbs of a great state" a misfortune$25 Because "a great state" represents the height of civilization, and the height of civilization is precisely what places the greatest strain upon nature. Here lies a profound paradox: the more advanced human civilization becomes, the more severe the damage it inflicts upon nature -- including human beings' own natural constitution.

This thought bears a striking resemblance to the views of the Most High (Laozi). The Laozi, Chapter 80, says:

"A small state with few people. Though there be implements tenfold or a hundredfold in efficiency, let the people not use them. Let the people take death seriously and not migrate far. Though there be boats and carriages, let no one ride in them; though there be armor and weapons, let no one deploy them. Let the people return to knotting cords and using them. Let them relish their food, find beauty in their garments, feel at ease in their dwellings, delight in their customs. Neighboring states may be in sight, the sounds of their cocks and dogs within hearing, yet the people grow old and die without ever visiting one another."

The Most High (Laozi) yearned for "a small state with few people" precisely because he perceived the corrosion that a "great state" works upon humanity's natural constitution. In a great state, implements abound, desires proliferate, and people's simple original nature is gradually lost amid the encirclement of these implements and desires. This shares the same deep logic as Mengzi's metaphor of "the suburbs of a great state" -- though their philosophical positions differ (Mengzi advocated active moral cultivation; the Most High advocated returning to nature's simplicity), both perceived the damage that external environment inflicts upon original human nature.

Master Zhuang's chapter "Horses' Hooves" (Ma Ti) developed this argument to its furthest extreme:

"Horses: their hooves can tread frost and snow, their coats can ward off wind and cold. They crop grass, drink water, and lift their legs to gallop -- this is the true nature of horses. Even if they had grand terraces and spacious halls, they would have no use for them. Then along came Bole, who said: 'I am skilled at managing horses.' He singed them, clipped them, branded them, hobbled them, bridled and haltered them, lined them up in stalls -- and already two or three in ten had died. He starved them, thirsted them, raced them, galloped them, arrayed them in formation; before them the torment of bit and ornament, behind them the threat of whip and rod -- and already more than half had died."

Master Zhuang uses Bole's management of horses to illustrate how artificial "governance" (the intervention of civilization) harms the horse's "true nature." The true nature of horses is to "crop grass, drink water, and lift their legs to gallop," yet Bole's "management" kills more than half of them. This shares the same logic as Mengzi's use of axes felling trees to figure how external environment harms the human conscience.

However, we must note the fundamental difference between Mengzi and Master Zhuang. Master Zhuang believed that all artifacts of civilization (including benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and wisdom) are violations of humanity's true nature; Mengzi believed that benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and wisdom are precisely humanity's true nature, and that what external environment damages is not "natural" human nature but "moral" human nature. This distinction is critically important and will be discussed in detail below.

Section 2: "Axes and Hatchets Felled Them" -- The Manner and Force of Destruction

The four characters "axes and hatchets felled them" (fu jin fa zhi) describe a violent, direct, deliberate destruction.

"Fu" is a large axe; "jin" is a small axe. The Shuowen Jiezi says: "Fu: to hew." "Jin: a wood-chopping axe." Axes and hatchets are tools for felling trees. To fell trees with axes is a conscious, purposeful act -- people did not accidentally trample saplings but deliberately took up tools to chop.

Why does Mengzi emphasize "axes and hatchets" rather than other forms of destruction (such as fire, flood, or storm)$26 Because "axes and hatchets" represent deliberate, conscious human destruction, not natural disaster. The felling of the mountain's trees was not caused by heaven's calamity but by human misdeed. Likewise, the loss of human conscience is not because human nature originally lacked sprouts of goodness, but was caused by deliberate human action afterward.

This point resonates profoundly in pre-Qin thought. The Book of Documents, "Great Declaration" (Tai Shi), says: "When Heaven creates calamity, one may still escape it; when one creates one's own calamity, one cannot survive." Natural disasters can be avoided, but human-caused disasters offer no escape. If Ox Mountain's trees had been burned by lightning, they might regenerate; but chopped day after day by axes, they are ultimately stripped bare. If the human conscience is only occasionally shaken by external things, it may recover; but if it is daily eroded by material desires ("felled day after day"), it will eventually "not be far from the beasts."

"Axes and hatchets felled them" also carries an important implicit message: those who fell the trees are themselves human beings. That is to say, it is human desires that harm human conscience. This constitutes a self-contradictory tragedy: the sprouts of goodness in human nature are eroded by the desires within that same human nature. External environment can harm the conscience ultimately because human beings themselves have appetites for sensory pleasures and material gain. The trees of Ox Mountain were not felled by the mountain itself, but by people -- and why did people fell them$27 Because people needed timber. Likewise, the loss of human conscience is not the conscience's own self-extinction, but the result of erosion by material desires -- and whence come material desires$28 From human beings themselves.

This self-contradiction is precisely the greatest theoretical challenge facing Mengzi's theory of innate goodness: if human nature is originally good, why do people harm their own goodness$29 If people originally possess conscience, why do they "let go of their conscience"$30 This question will be discussed in detail in the later section on "the lost heart."

Section 3: "Could They Remain Beautiful$31" -- The Power of the Rhetorical Question

"Could they remain beautiful$32" This rhetorical question is the chapter's first interrogative and the logical starting point of the entire argument.

"Could they remain beautiful$33" means: under such conditions of daily felling, could the mountain remain luxuriant$34 The answer is obviously no -- it could not. Yet the inability to remain luxuriant does not mean the mountain never had the capacity for luxuriance. The critical distinction is this: the cause of "not being beautiful" is external felling, not the mountain's own barrenness.

The logical force of this rhetorical question lies in separating "result" (not beautiful) from "cause" (being felled), thereby laying the foundation for the later argument that separates "human ungoodness" (result) from "human nature" (cause).

This is Mengzi's characteristic method of argument. Mengzi, "Gongsun Chou," Part 1, records:

Mengzi said: "All people have a heart-mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others. The former kings had such a heart-mind, and therefore they had governance that could not bear the suffering of others. If one exercises governance that cannot bear others' suffering with a heart-mind that cannot bear others' suffering, governing the realm is as easy as turning something in the palm of one's hand. The reason I say all people have a heart-mind that cannot bear the suffering of others is this: suppose someone suddenly sees a small child about to fall into a well -- all would have a feeling of alarm and compassion. This is not because they seek to gain favor with the child's parents, not because they wish to win praise from neighbors and friends, and not because they dislike the sound of the child's cries. From this we can see: one without a heart of compassion is not human; one without a heart of shame is not human; one without a heart of deference is not human; one without a heart of right and wrong is not human. The heart of compassion is the sprout of benevolence; the heart of shame is the sprout of righteousness; the heart of deference is the sprout of ritual propriety; the heart of right and wrong is the sprout of wisdom. People's possession of these four sprouts is like their possession of four limbs."

Here Mengzi uses the example of "a child about to fall into a well" to prove that "all people have a heart-mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others." His method of argument is identical to that in the "Ox Mountain" chapter -- both use a concrete, perceptible example to reveal an abstract, non-intuitive truth. "The child about to fall into a well" reveals that "people have sprouts of goodness"; "the trees of Ox Mountain" reveals "how those sprouts are lost" and "how they may be recovered." The two complement each other as outer and inner, together constituting the complete argument for Mengzi's theory of innate goodness.

Chapter 3: "With the Rest That Days and Nights Provide and the Moisture of Rain and Dew, It Is Not That Shoots and Sprouts Do Not Grow" -- On the Inextinguishability of Life Force

Section 1: "The Rest That Days and Nights Provide" and "The Moisture of Rain and Dew" -- The Nourishment of Heaven's Way

This section is one of the most critical turning points in the entire chapter. After describing the devastation of the mountain's trees, Mengzi pivots to point out: even after the trees have been felled, so long as the mountain receives the rest that day and night provide and the moisture of rain and dew, new shoots will still sprout forth.

"The rest that days and nights provide" -- "rest" (xi) here means to grow, to regenerate. The Book of Changes, "Commentary on the Judgment" of the Return hexagram (Fu), says: "In Return, do we not see the heart-mind of Heaven and Earth!" It also says: "Returning and returning along its path, in seven days it comes back -- this is the movement of Heaven." Between heaven and earth there is an inexhaustible force of ceaseless generation. Day alternates with night, cold with heat, and all things within this rhythm continuously grow, rest, and grow again. After the mountain's trees have been felled, when night comes and no one is chopping, the remaining root systems quietly gather strength in the stillness of the night, preparing to send forth new shoots.

This "rest that days and nights provide" directly corresponds to the later discussion of "night air" (ye qi). "Night air" is what the conscience receives in the way of recuperation and restoration during the night, when one sleeps and is removed from the interference of material desires. Mengzi's exposition maintains an extremely precise correspondence:

"The moisture of rain and dew" -- rain and dew descend from heaven. The Book of Songs, "Lesser Odes," "Fu Tian" (Great Fields), says: "They strike zither and drum, to welcome the Lord of the Fields, to pray for sweet rain, to bless our millet and grain, to nourish our men and women." Rain and dew are heaven-bestowed grace, beyond human power to produce. The sprouting of new growth on the mountain requires the inherent strength of the root system, but without heaven-sent rain and dew, the sprouts cannot grow either. The deeper significance of this metaphor is: the recovery of human goodness requires not only the person's own effort ("grasp it and it is preserved") but also a kind of transcendent assistance from the Way of Heaven.

Why does Mengzi introduce the images of "day and night" and "rain and dew" at this point$35 Because they represent the rhythms and graces of the natural world -- a constant, objective force independent of human will. The alternation of day and night is the rhythm of the Way of Heaven; the descent of rain and dew is the grace of the Way of Heaven. Mengzi thereby intimates: the foundations of human goodness are endowed by the Way of Heaven, are natural and spontaneous, not artificially contrived. Even if the conscience has been entirely eroded by material desires, so long as the rhythm of the Way of Heaven persists (one continues to live through the alternation of day and night) and its grace endures (one still possesses the capacity to sense good and evil), the conscience may sprout forth again.

This thought resonates with the opening chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong):

"What Heaven confers is called nature; following one's nature is called the Way; cultivating the Way is called instruction. The Way cannot be separated from for even an instant; what can be separated from is not the Way. Therefore the gentleman is cautious and watchful over what he does not see, fearful and apprehensive over what he does not hear. Nothing is more visible than what is hidden; nothing is more manifest than what is subtle. Therefore the gentleman is watchful over himself when alone."

"What Heaven confers is called nature" -- human nature (good nature) is conferred by Heaven, just as "the moisture of rain and dew" is the grace of the Way of Heaven. "Cannot be separated from for even an instant" -- the Way is present everywhere and at all times, just as "the rest that days and nights provide" never ceases. And the practice of "watchfulness in solitude" (shen du) is precisely the preservation of one's sprouts of goodness in the "hidden" and "subtle" moments (the nighttime hours and solitary moments when no one is watching) -- just as the mountain's trees quietly sprout during the night when no one is chopping.

Section 2: "It Is Not That Shoots and Sprouts Do Not Grow" -- The Sprouts of Goodness Cannot Be Extinguished

"Shoots" (meng) refers to the initial growth of plants. "Sprouts" (nie) refers to new shoots that grow from the remaining stumps after a tree has been felled. Together, mengnie precisely describes the phenomenon of regeneration after destruction.

Why does Mengzi use "shoots and sprouts" rather than "seeds"$36 Because "seeds" represent a beginning from nothing, while "shoots and sprouts" represent regeneration after destruction. After the mountain's trees have been felled, the roots remain in the soil; the life force is not exhausted. Given suitable conditions, new shoots will grow from the remaining stumps. The deeper significance of this metaphor is: after the human conscience has been eroded by material desires, it has not completely vanished but has retreated to a deeper level (like the remaining roots in the soil). Given suitable conditions (the rest of day and night, the moisture of rain and dew), it will sprout forth again.

This metaphor of "shoots and sprouts" embodies a core claim of Mengzi's theory of innate goodness: the good nature cannot be utterly extinguished. No matter how severe the external harm, so long as a person remains human, the "root" of their good nature remains. What is the theoretical basis for this claim$37

Mengzi, "Gaozi," Part 1, records the debate between Mengzi and Gaozi:

Gaozi said: "Human nature is like willow wood, and righteousness is like cups and bowls. To make benevolence and righteousness out of human nature is like making cups and bowls out of willow wood." Mengzi said: "Can you make cups and bowls while following the nature of the willow$38 You must do violence to the willow before you can make cups and bowls from it. If you must do violence to the willow to make cups and bowls, must you then also do violence to people to make them benevolent and righteous$39 It is your words that will lead all people under heaven to bring calamity upon benevolence and righteousness!"

And again:

Gaozi said: "Human nature is like swirling water. Breach the bank to the east and it flows east; breach it to the west and it flows west. Human nature's lack of distinction between good and not-good is like water's lack of distinction between east and west." Mengzi said: "Water indeed has no distinction between east and west, but does it have no distinction between up and down$40 The goodness of human nature is like water's tendency to flow downward. There are no people who are not good, just as there is no water that does not flow downward. Now, if you strike water and make it leap up, you can make it go over your forehead; if you dam it and force it, you can make it stay on a mountain. But is this the nature of water$41 It is the force of circumstances that makes it so. That people can be made to do what is not good -- their nature is like this too."

Returning to the metaphor of "shoots and sprouts": water's nature of flowing downward is not changed by being struck or dammed; the mountain timber's nature of growing is not changed by being felled with axes; human goodness is not changed by being eroded by material desires. This is why, even after the mountain's trees have been nearly all felled, "shoots and sprouts" still grow -- the "root" of the good nature cannot be extinguished.

Section 3: Why "It Is Not That There Are Not" Rather Than "There Are" -- Mengzi's Careful Diction

It is worth noting that Mengzi uses "it is not that shoots and sprouts do not grow" (fei wu mengnie zhi sheng yan) rather than "there are shoots and sprouts growing." "It is not that there are not" is a double negative, meaning "it is not the case that there are none" -- a somewhat weaker, more restrained statement than directly saying "there are."

Why does Mengzi use such careful diction$42

First, "it is not that there are not" implies that while shoots and sprouts do exist, they are not conspicuous. The new shoots have just emerged -- small, tender, invisible unless one looks carefully. This figures the human sprouts of goodness: though they exist, after being eroded by material desires they have become exceedingly feeble and require careful introspection to discern.

Second, "it is not that there are not" is a rhetorical strategy. Mengzi faces the prevalent view that the mountain "never had good timber." He does not rush to affirm positively that "the mountain has many new shoots"; instead, he uses the gentle rebuttal "it is not that there are no new shoots" to counter the assertion that "there was never any timber."

Third, "it is not that there are not" contains a sober recognition of reality. Mengzi does not deny that Ox Mountain has indeed become barren, nor that many people have indeed lost their conscience. He merely insists on pointing out: even in such dire conditions, the seeds of goodness (shoots and sprouts) still exist -- they have only been obscured and suppressed, not utterly annihilated.

This mode of thought already has its roots in the Analects. Analects, "Yang Huo," records:

The Master said: "By nature people are close to one another; through practice they drift far apart."

The Master said that human nature is "close" (xiangjin) -- note, he did not say "identical" (xiangtong) but "close." This too is careful diction, implying that while human natures share a common tendency, they are not perfectly identical. Mengzi's "it is not that shoots and sprouts do not grow" inherits the Master's careful yet profound attitude.

Chapter 4: "Cattle and Sheep Then Come to Graze Upon It, and So It Becomes as Bare as That" -- Secondary Harm and Complete Loss

Section 1: "Cattle and Sheep Then Come to Graze Upon It" -- The Sprouts of Goodness Destroyed Again

If "axes and hatchets felled them" was the first injury, then "cattle and sheep then come to graze upon it" is the second -- and the more fatal one.

After the trees have been felled, new shoots (sprouts) emerge, but they are still very small and tender. If people then pasture cattle and sheep on the mountain, the livestock will nibble these tender new shoots to nothing. The shoots never even get a chance to grow before they are destroyed. Thus the mountain "becomes as bare as that" -- stripped utterly bare, without a single tree.

Why is the damage done by "cattle and sheep" more fatal than that done by "axes and hatchets"$43 Because axes fell trees that have already grown tall; after the trees are felled, the roots remain and can send forth new shoots. But cattle and sheep nibble the shoots that have just emerged; once nibbled, the shoots have no chance to grow, and in time the roots too will die from lack of photosynthesis.

The deeper significance of this metaphor is: the most fatal harm to the human conscience is not a single catastrophic blow, but the repeated, sustained, daily erosion that destroys the sprouts of goodness the very moment they begin to recover.

Section 2: The Deeper Significance of the "Cattle and Sheep" Image

In pre-Qin agrarian-pastoral society, cattle and sheep symbolized wealth. People graze cattle and sheep to satisfy material needs, and the livestock's nibbling of new shoots on the mountain is the direct destruction of spiritual growth by material needs.

The forces that erode the conscience are not singular but multiple and cumulative. Great material desires (such as greed for wealth, lust, and craving for power) are the "axes and hatchets" that fell already established goodness; minor habits (such as daily laziness, expediency, and going along with the crowd) are the "cattle and sheep" that nibble away at newly sprouted goodness. Great desires are easily noticed; minor habits are overlooked because they are too ordinary -- yet it is precisely these overlooked minor habits that ultimately cause the conscience's complete loss.

The Analects, "Zizhang," records Zixia's view: "In matters of great virtue, one must not overstep the bounds; in matters of small virtue, some latitude is permissible." Yet from Mengzi's perspective, it is precisely the constant "latitude" in "small virtues" that leads to the incessant nibbling away of the sprouts of goodness -- a thousand-league dike is breached by an ant hole.

Section 3: "As Bare as That" -- The Spectacle of Complete Loss

"Bare" (zhuozhuo): stripped utterly bare. Zhao Qi's gloss: "Zhuozhuo -- the appearance of being without vegetation." A mountain once dense with trees, now stripped bare without a blade of grass -- this is a shocking spectacle.

It is worth pondering deeply: a stripped-bare mountain is not beyond recovery. If felling ceases and grazing is removed, after many years of rest and recuperation the mountain's vegetation can regrow. The precondition for recovery, however, is "stopping the destruction."

This is precisely the concrete manifestation of Mengzi's later statement: "If given its proper nourishment, there is nothing that will not grow; if deprived of its nourishment, there is nothing that will not wither away."

Chapter 5: "People See It Stripped Bare and Suppose It Never Had Good Timber -- But Is This the Nature of the Mountain$44" -- Cognitive Error and the Rectification of "Nature"

Section 1: "Suppose It Never Had Good Timber" -- The Fallacy of Inferring Nature from Results

Mengzi identifies an exceedingly common error in thinking: people see the barren state of Ox Mountain and conclude, "This mountain never had good timber." The essence of this cognitive error is reasoning backward from the "present state" (result) to "original nature" (cause), while ignoring the "process" (external intervention and change).

Mengzi's profundity lies not only in identifying this error but also in revealing its harm. If people truly believe that "the mountain never had timber," then no one will plant trees. Likewise, if people truly believe that "human nature has no goodness," then no one will undertake moral cultivation. This way of thinking dissolves both the necessity and the possibility of moral cultivation.

Therefore Mengzi shatters this fallacy with a resounding rhetorical question: "But is this the nature of the mountain$45" Of course not! The mountain's nature is "once beautiful" -- it is capable of growing dense forests. Its bareness is merely the result of external harm, not its inherent nature.

Section 2: "Is This the Nature of the Mountain$46" -- An Analysis of the Concept of "Nature"

The character "nature" (xing) is the core concept of this chapter and indeed of the entire pre-Qin discourse on human nature. In pre-Qin literature, the meaning of "nature" underwent a rich evolution, from "what is inborn" in the Book of Documents and Zuo Commentary, through the Master's "natures are close; practices drive them apart" in the Analects, to the fullest discussion in Mengzi's debate with Gaozi, and finally to the Doctrine of the Mean's "What Heaven confers is called nature."

Mengzi's position is clear: only those unique endowments that distinguish human beings from beasts -- benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom -- are truly "human nature." Biological instincts like appetite and sex, though innate, are shared by humans and animals alike and are not what makes human beings distinctively human.

The mountain's "nature" is "once beautiful" -- the capacity to grow dense forests. Bareness is not the mountain's nature, just as ungoodness is not human nature. External harm can obscure heaven-endowed nature but cannot annihilate it.

Section 3: Different Understandings of "Nature" among Pre-Qin Thinkers -- Comparison and Contrast

(1) The Master: Natures are close; practices drive them apart. Though the Master did not explicitly determine whether nature is good or evil, his thought contains abundant intimations of innate goodness. "Is there anyone who can devote a single day's strength to benevolence$47 I have not seen anyone whose strength was insufficient." "Is benevolence really so far away$48 If I desire benevolence, then benevolence has already arrived."

(2) Gaozi: Nature is neither good nor not-good. Gaozi's approach represents a "blank slate" theory. Its problem: if nature is truly neutral, whence come the standards of good and evil$49

(3) Shi Shuo and Mi Buqi: Nature contains both good and evil. This seemingly compromise position fails to explain the relationship between the good and evil components.

(4) Master Xun: Nature is evil. The key to the disagreement between Mengzi and Master Xun lies in their different definitions of "nature." Mengzi's "nature" refers to humanity's distinctive moral endowment; Master Xun's "nature" refers to natural desires. They address different dimensions of the same word.

(5) The Most High (Laozi) and Master Zhuang: Nature transcends good and evil. The Most High held that moral categories are themselves products of the Way's decline. Master Zhuang held that benevolence and righteousness are superfluous additions to human nature. Yet Mengzi's "benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom" are not externally imposed but inherently possessed -- differing fundamentally from what Master Zhuang criticizes.

Chapter 6: "Even in What Remains in a Person, How Could There Be No Heart-Mind of Benevolence and Righteousness$50" -- The Transition from Metaphor to Discourse on the Human Heart-Mind

This sentence is the pivotal transition from "metaphor" to "argument." Why does Mengzi say "heart-mind of benevolence and righteousness" rather than "nature of benevolence and righteousness"$51 Because "heart-mind" is more concrete and perceptible than "nature." Mengzi's distinctive approach is to argue from "heart-mind" to "nature" -- through the analysis of concrete psychological experiences to prove the abstract proposition of "innate goodness."

The "heart-mind of benevolence and righteousness" refers specifically to the four sprouts: compassion, shame, deference, and right and wrong. These are not acquired through learning but are innate moral intuitions. "People's possession of these four sprouts is like their possession of four limbs." The sprouts need to be "expanded and filled out, like fire that has just begun to burn, like a spring that has just begun to flow."

Chapter 7: "The Reason They Let Go of Their Conscience Is Also Like Axes and Hatchets upon Trees" -- On the Lost Heart-Mind

"Let go" (fang) means to lose, to forfeit -- not an active "abandoning" but a passive "drifting away." The metaphorical correspondence is precise: axes (material desires) fell the conscience; the process is gradual; the logger's purpose is not to destroy the mountain but to obtain timber, just as the pursuer of material gain does not intend to lose conscience but to gain advantage.

The Book of Documents, "Counsels of the Great Yu," encapsulates this insight: "The human heart-mind is perilous; the heart-mind of the Way is subtle. Be refined, be single-minded; faithfully hold fast to the mean."

The concept of "conscience" (liangxin) may have been coined by Mengzi himself. "Liang" means innate, original -- "innate moral knowing" (liangzhi) is knowing without deliberation; "innate moral capacity" (liangneng) is capacity without learning. "Conscience" is thus the inherently possessed good heart-mind that exists prior to any cultivation. This corresponds to the Great Learning's "bright virtue" (mingde): inherent but sometimes obscured, never truly extinguished, capable of being "illuminated" through the work of cultivation.

Chapter 8: "Felled Day After Day, Could It Remain Beautiful$52" -- On Daily Erosion

"Felled day after day" upgrades "occasional destruction" to "sustained destruction." Daily felling is more fearsome because it allows no chance for recovery. It also implies "habituation" -- the person pursuing material desires indulges every day, has grown accustomed to it, and does not realize they are losing their conscience. This echoes the Master's words: "By nature people are close to one another; through practice they drift far apart."

Chapter 9: "The Rest That Days and Nights Provide, and the Air of the Pre-Dawn Hours" -- On the Night Air

"The air of the pre-dawn hours" (pingdan zhi qi) -- the moment when dawn is about to break but has not yet broken -- is when the heart-mind is most lucid. It occupies the juncture of yin-yang transition: the stillness of yin has completed its nurture, while the activity of yang has not yet begun its interference.

The relationship between "the air of the pre-dawn hours" and "the flood-like vital energy" (haoran zhi qi): the former is the seed and foundation; the latter is the fully expanded realization. "The flood-like vital energy" is a towering tree; "the air of the pre-dawn hours" is a shoot that has just sprouted.

"The degree to which their preferences resemble those of others is slight" -- "slight" (jixi) is exquisitely precise: a state of extreme faintness that has not yet completely vanished. Mengzi both acknowledges reality (the conscience is very faint) and insists on principle ("slight" is not "none").

Chapter 10: "Then What They Do During the Daytime Hours Shackles and Destroys It" -- The Fetters of Daytime Conduct

This creates a vicious cycle: nighttime recovery is less than daytime destruction, producing a net negative effect. "Shackle" (gu) describes a slow, gradual, indirect manner of annihilation -- the conscience is not killed in a single blow but slowly suffocated by day-after-day bondage.

"Shackled again and again, the night air is no longer sufficient to preserve it" -- but Mengzi says "no longer sufficient to preserve," not "has ceased to exist." Even in the worst circumstances, so long as a person lives, some trace of "night air" persists.

Chapter 11: "If the Night Air Is No Longer Sufficient to Preserve It, Then One Is Not Far from the Beasts" -- The Distinction between Humans and Animals

"That by which human beings differ from the beasts is slight. The common people cast it away; the gentleman preserves it." When the "slight" approaches zero, a person truly sinks to the level of beasts.

The pre-Qin "distinction between humans and animals" finds expression across multiple texts: the Book of Documents ("human beings are the most spiritual of all things"), the Analects ("one cannot form a flock with birds and beasts"), the Record of Rites ("a human being without ritual propriety has the heart-mind of a beast"), and the Xunzi ("human beings have vital energy, life, awareness, and also righteousness -- therefore they are the most noble under heaven").

"People see them as beasts and suppose they never had the capacity for goodness -- but is this truly what a human being is$53" Of course not! Beast-like behavior is not human nature but a state of degradation after the conscience has been lost.

Chapter 12: "If Given Its Proper Nourishment, There Is Nothing That Will Not Grow; If Deprived of Its Nourishment, There Is Nothing That Will Not Wither Away" -- A General Discourse on Nourishment

These concluding propositions elevate the chapter to universal philosophical significance. They establish the centrality of "nourishment"; they shift the question of good and evil from "nature" to "nourishment"; and they contain an optimistic conviction: so long as "proper nourishment" is given, the good nature can be restored.

Mengzi's specific methods include reducing desires (gua yu: "for nourishing the heart-mind, nothing is better than reducing desires"), nourishing vital energy (yang qi: "I am skilled at nourishing my flood-like vital energy"), and preserving the heart-mind and nourishing the nature (cun xin yang xing: "preserve the heart-mind, nourish the nature -- this is the way to serve Heaven").

Chapter 13: "The Master Said: 'Grasp It and It Is Preserved; Let It Go and It Perishes. Its Comings and Goings Have No Fixed Time; No One Knows Its Direction.' Is This Not Spoken of the Heart-Mind$54"

This saying, attributed to the Master but not found in the received Analects, describes three characteristics of the heart-mind: (1) its preservation depends on active "grasping"; (2) its comings and goings are unpredictable; (3) its whereabouts when lost are unknowable.

"Grasp it and it is preserved; let it go and it perishes" means moral cultivation is not a once-and-for-all achievement but requires constant vigilance. This resonates with Zengzi's daily self-examination, the Master's anxieties about uncultivated virtue, and the Great Learning's "if one day you can renew yourself, then do so day after day."

The unpredictability of the heart-mind is both the difficulty and the hope of cultivation: one can never relax vigilance, yet even in the most desperate moment, the conscience may suddenly return. This is intimately connected with the Doctrine of the Mean's "watchfulness in solitude" and the Book of Changes' warning that "its causes have been developing gradually."

The concluding "is this not spoken of the heart-mind$55" distills the chapter's entire theme into a single word: "heart-mind" (xin). In Mengzi's system, "the function of the heart-mind is to think. If it thinks, it apprehends; if it does not think, it does not apprehend. This is what Heaven has given us."

Part Two: Thematic Exploration of Core Ideas

Chapter 14: The Metaphysical Foundations of the Theory of Innate Goodness -- The Way of Heaven and Human Nature

The Doctrine of the Mean: "What Heaven confers is called nature; following one's nature is called the Way; cultivating the Way is called instruction." The Book of Changes: "One yin and one yang -- this is called the Way. What continues it is goodness; what completes it is nature." And: "Ceaseless generation -- this is called change."

The Way of Heaven's essence is "ceaseless generation" -- never-ceasing creation and nourishment. This "generative virtue," when it descends to the human heart-mind, manifests as the sprouts of goodness. In the Ox Mountain chapter, it manifests as "the growth of shoots and sprouts" -- the indomitable life force that continues to attempt recovery even after being felled and nibbled.

The Book of Songs, "Greater Odes," "Teeming Multitudes": "Heaven, in giving birth to the teeming multitudes, endowed them with things and gave them rules. The people hold to their constant nature: they love fine virtue." The Master praised this poem: "Whoever composed this poem knew the Way!"

Chapter 15: The Lost Heart-Mind and Seeking the Heart-Mind -- On the Practice of Cultivation

The reasons for conscience's loss include: external environmental erosion ("in the suburbs of a great state"), cumulative daily damage ("felled day after day"), and the imbalance between recovery and destruction.

Methods of cultivation: reducing desires, turning inward to examine oneself, accumulating righteous deeds, preserving the heart-mind and nourishing the nature, and watchfulness in solitude.

Historical cases: the tyrant Zhou of Shang (complete loss); King Xuan of Qi (sprouts surviving beneath the surface -- his compassion for the trembling ox proved his heart of benevolence still existed); the sage-king Shun (sprouts fully expanded -- "when he heard one good word or saw one good deed, it was like the breaking of a river dam, surging forth irresistibly").

Chapter 16: Night Air and the Air of the Pre-Dawn Hours -- The Lineage of Pre-Qin Vital-Energy Theory

"Vital energy" (qi) is one of the most central concepts in pre-Qin philosophy. The Laozi, Chapter 42: "All things carry yin and embrace yang; through the blending of vital energies they achieve harmony." The Guanzi, "Inner Training": "The vital essence is the most refined part of vital energy. When the way of vital energy flows freely, life is generated."

"Night air" is Mengzi's original concept, referring to the vital energy at night when one is removed from disturbance -- quiet, inward-gathering, conducive to nourishing the sprouts of goodness.

Chapter 17: The Theory of Human Nature and Political Theory -- From the Ox Mountain Metaphor to the Governance of the Kingly Way

If human nature is originally good, then good governance is not forcibly planting trees on a barren mountain but stopping the felling and removing the cattle and sheep. "If axes and hatchets enter the mountain forests only at the proper times, timber will be more than can be used" -- regulated use, in contrast to the Ox Mountain's unregulated felling.

Mengzi's "benevolent governance" (ren zheng) operates on two levels: material (ensuring the people's livelihood) and spiritual (providing education and moral guidance). Historically, the sage-kings Yao, Shun, and King Wen exemplify nourishing governance; the tyrants Jie and Zhou exemplify destructive governance -- "axes and hatchets" applied politically.

Chapter 18: The Practice of "Grasping" -- Pre-Qin Methods of Cultivation

"Grasping" (cao) operates on the bodily level (maintaining proper deportment, as illustrated by the Master's meticulous attention to bearing in the Analects), the emotional level (regulating feelings, as discussed in the Record of Rites, "Record of Music"), and the cognitive level (maintaining right thought: "the function of the heart-mind is to think").

"Releasing" (she) takes multiple forms: active abandonment through pursuing profit; passive abandonment through going along with the crowd; and intermittent abandonment through "one day of warmth and ten days of cold."

Chapter 19: The Overall Landscape of Pre-Qin Learning of Heart-Mind and Nature

From the Master to Mengzi, the learning of heart-mind and nature evolved from the implicit to the explicit. In Mengzi's thought, "nature" (xing) is the heaven-endowed original constitution -- static, unchanging. "Heart-mind" (xin) is the dynamic subject of psychological life -- vital, mutable. If "nature" is the mountain's inherent condition (fertile soil), then "heart-mind" is the trees upon the mountain.

Within the Ox Mountain framework: Mengzi sees the mountain's nature as beautiful; Gaozi sees it as indeterminate; Master Xun sees it as unbeautiful unless improved; the Most High and Master Zhuang see the mountain's natural state as inherently best.

Part Three: Exploration of Deeper Philosophical Questions

Chapter 20: The Fundamental Difficulty of the Theory of Innate Goodness and Mengzi's Response

If human nature is originally good, whence comes evil$56 Mengzi's implicit response: (1) "That by which human beings differ from the beasts is slight" -- the good nature is a small proportion of the total endowment, making it vulnerable. (2) "The sense organs do not think and are obscured by things" -- sensory passivity leads to the conscience being obscured. (3) Evil is a product of process, not nature -- it does not require a metaphysical origin.

Comparing responses: Mengzi (evil is goodness obscured), Master Xun (evil comes from natural desires), and the Most High (evil comes from deviation from the Way) each have strengths and limitations. Mengzi's response, though imperfect, offers the greatest practical guidance.

Chapter 21: The Relationship between Individual Cultivation and Social Environment

Mengzi's answer is dual: for the individual, cultivation can theoretically transcend environmental limitations ("grasp it and it is preserved"); for society, benevolent governance is needed to nourish the people's sprouts of goodness. Mengzi is not an environmental determinist -- he insists people have the capacity for active choice. But once the conscience is completely lost, the capacity for correct choice vanishes. This makes "early cultivation" critically important.

Chapter 22: The Cosmological Background of the "Ox Mountain" Chapter

The chapter's structure -- daytime felling alternating with nighttime rest -- corresponds to the cosmic rhythm of yin-yang alternation. The Return hexagram (Fu) symbolizes the conscience beginning faint recovery from the lowest point. "In seven days it comes back -- this is the movement of Heaven" -- recovery requires time and patience.

Chapter 23: "If Given Its Proper Nourishment" -- The Full Unfolding of the Philosophy of Nourishment

"Nourishment" operates on three levels: sustenance of the body, nurture of life, and cultivation of virtue. Conditions for proper nourishment include: sustained time, suitable environment, correct method (neither neglecting the sprouts nor "pulling up the seedlings to help them grow"), and the self as agent ("practicing benevolence depends on oneself").

Chapter 24: "Its Comings and Goings Have No Fixed Time; No One Knows Its Direction" -- The Mystery of the Heart-Mind

The heart-mind occupies a position between the metaphysical and the physical, possessing both transcendence and limitation. Its unpredictability is both the difficulty and the hope of cultivation.

Chapter 25: Conclusion: The Eternal Significance of the Ox Mountain Chapter

Section 1: The Chapter's Place in the Mengzi as a Whole

The "Ox Mountain" chapter is the "master metaphor" of Mengzi's theory of innate goodness, encompassing eight interlocking layers: (1) the goodness of the original nature, (2) external harm, (3) the faintness of the sprouts, (4) the path to recovery, (5) the peril of total loss, (6) cognitive error, (7) the imperative of nourishment, and (8) the practice of grasping the heart-mind.

Section 2: The Chapter's Deeper Insights

Insight One: Goodness is the original face of human beings; ungoodness is a subsequent distortion.

Insight Two: The faintness of the sprouts of goodness is not the same as their nonexistence. "Slight" is not "none."

Insight Three: Cultivation is a lifelong undertaking; one must not slacken for a single day.

Insight Four: Environment is exceedingly important, but not determinative.

Insight Five: Nourishment is more fundamental than instruction.

Section 3: Returning to the Text Itself -- Savoring the Beauty of the Chapter Anew

Let us read one final time, in its entirety, this immortal passage:

Mengzi said: "The trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful. Being in the suburbs of a great state, axes and hatchets felled them -- could they remain beautiful$57 With the rest that days and nights provide and the moisture of rain and dew, it is not that shoots and sprouts do not grow, but cattle and sheep then come to graze upon it, and so it becomes as bare as that. People see it stripped bare and suppose it never had good timber -- but is this the nature of the mountain$58 Even in what remains in a person, how could there be no heart-mind of benevolence and righteousness$59 The reason they let go of their conscience is also like axes and hatchets upon trees: felled day after day, could it remain beautiful$60 With the rest that days and nights provide and the air of the pre-dawn hours, the degree to which their preferences and aversions resemble those of other people is slight -- but then what they do during the daytime hours shackles and destroys it. Shackled again and again, the night air is no longer sufficient to preserve it. When the night air is no longer sufficient to preserve it, one is not far from the beasts. People see them as beasts and suppose they never had the capacity for goodness -- but is this truly what a human being is$61 Therefore, if given its proper nourishment, there is nothing that will not grow; if deprived of its nourishment, there is nothing that will not wither away. The Master said: 'Grasp it and it is preserved; let it go and it perishes. Its comings and goings have no fixed time; no one knows its direction.' Is this not spoken of the heart-mind$62"

In fewer than three hundred characters, this passage encompasses the essential meaning of theories of human nature, cultivation, epistemology, and governance. In the conciseness of its diction, the aptness of its metaphors, the rigor of its logic, and the depth of its feeling, it is truly an unparalleled masterpiece of pre-Qin prose and a treasure of Chinese philosophy.

From the unassuming opening of "the trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful" to the profound closing of "is this not spoken of the heart-mind$63", this chapter traverses a complete intellectual journey from the concrete to the abstract, from nature to humanity, from description to argument, from the external to the internal. The reader follows Mengzi's brush, beginning from a stripped-bare mountain in the southern suburbs of Linzi in the state of Qi, step by step penetrating to the most hidden depths of the human heart-mind, and finally arriving at the ultimate insight concerning "the heart-mind": "Grasp it and it is preserved; let it go and it perishes."

The beauty of this chapter lies not only in the profundity of its thought but also in its manner of expression. Mengzi does not use abstract concepts to expound abstract truths; rather, he employs concrete, perceptible images drawn from daily life -- mountain timber, axes, cattle and sheep, sprouting shoots, rain and dew, night air, the pre-dawn hours -- to present the deepest philosophical truths. This mode of expression renders profound truths experiential and palpable: the reader does not merely "understand" the theory of innate goodness but "feels" the existence and loss of the conscience.

Supplementary Section: Collected Pre-Qin and Han Texts with Brief Commentary

Chapter 26: Selected Glosses from Zhao Qi's Commentary

Zhao Qi ($64--201 CE), a classical scholar of the late Eastern Han, authored the Commentary on the Mengzi (Mengzi Zhangju), the earliest extant commentary on the Mengzi and of irreplaceable value for understanding the original text.

Key points from Zhao Qi's commentary on the "Ox Mountain" chapter:

1. "Ox Mountain is a mountain of Qi, located south of Linzi." -- Establishing the geographical location.
2. "Mei (beautiful): luxuriantly beautiful." -- Defining "beautiful" as luxuriant and flourishing.
3. "Zhuozhuo: the appearance of being without vegetation." -- Defining "bare" as stripped of vegetation.
4. "Fang: to lose." -- Defining "let go" as to forfeit.
5. "Pingdan: the time of first light." -- Defining "pre-dawn" as the moment of daybreak.
6. "Gu: fetters." -- Defining "shackle" as a restraining instrument.
7. "Qing: actual, real." -- Defining "true state" as reality (not emotion).

Zhao Qi's commentary is characterized by its conciseness and clarity, eschewing excessive elaboration. Faithful to the original text, he uses the fewest words to explain the most critical concepts, laying the groundwork for all later in-depth readings.

Chapter 27: Dong Zhongshu's Theory of Human Nature and Its Connection to the "Ox Mountain" Chapter

Dong Zhongshu (179--104 BCE), a great Confucian of the Western Han, adopted a position on human nature that mediates between Mengzi and Master Xun.

Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn (Chunqiu Fanlu), "Examining Names in Depth":

"Nature is the unadorned substance of heaven's endowment; goodness is the result of the king's transformative instruction. Without the substance, the king's instruction cannot transform; without the king's instruction, the unadorned substance cannot become good. ... Heaven gives birth to the people's nature, which has the quality of goodness but is not yet able to be good. Therefore it establishes the king to make them good -- this is Heaven's intent."

Dong Zhongshu held that human nature contains a "quality of goodness" (potential for goodness) but is "not yet able to be good" -- not yet fully realized as goodness. The king's transformative instruction is needed. His position more strongly emphasizes the role of "instruction," while Mengzi more strongly emphasizes the inherent goodness of "nature" itself.

Chapter 28: Related Passages from the Spring and Autumn Annals of Mr. Lu

The Spring and Autumn Annals of Mr. Lu, "On Original Nature": "The goodness of human nature is like water's tendency to flow downward. None are without a good heart-mind; none are without a good will. Evil arises afterward."

This clearly advocates innate goodness, using the same metaphor as Mengzi. "Evil arises afterward" is the most apt summary of the "Ox Mountain" chapter.

Chapter 29: Comprehensive Reflections -- The Significance and Limitations of Pre-Qin Theories of Human Nature

Significance: The greatest contribution is the establishment of human dignity and moral agency. Human beings possess dignity because they possess the good nature; human beings possess moral agency because the good nature is heaven-endowed, internal, and inalienable.

Limitations: (1) The explanation of "the origin of evil" is not fully thorough. (2) Insufficient attention to differences in the strength of goodness among different individuals. (3) The specific operational details of cultivation practice require further elaboration. Yet these limitations should not negate the value of pre-Qin theories. The task of later scholars is to deepen and refine, not to overturn and reject.

Chapter 30: Summary

This article, proceeding from the perspectives of pre-Qin and high antiquity, has conducted a comprehensive, penetrating, and meticulous reading and inquiry into Mengzi's "Ox Mountain" chapter.

The core conclusions:

One. The "Ox Mountain" chapter, through the metaphor of mountain timber, offers a complete and profound exposition of Mengzi's theory of innate goodness: human nature is originally good; the loss of goodness is the result of external harm; the recovery of goodness requires sustained nourishment.

Two. The chapter's argumentative structure is exceedingly precise: the beauty of the mountain's timber (nature is good) -> the felling by axes (harm of material desires) -> the growth of shoots (the sprouts of goodness are not extinguished) -> the grazing of cattle and sheep (secondary harm) -> the desolation of bareness (complete loss of conscience) -> the supposition that there was never good timber (cognitive error) -> nourishment brings growth (the imperative of cultivation) -> grasping preserves, releasing destroys (the mystery of the heart-mind).

Three. The chapter's intellectual foundation lies in the continuity between "the Way of Heaven" and "human nature." The Way of Heaven takes "ceaseless generation" as its virtue; human nature receives from the Way of Heaven its "generative virtue"; therefore human nature is originally good.

Four. The chapter's practical orientation lies in "grasping the heart-mind" and "nourishing the nature." "Grasp it and it is preserved; let it go and it perishes" is the fundamental principle; "if given its proper nourishment, there is nothing that will not grow" is the greatest encouragement.

Five. The questions embedded in this chapter -- why do people of good nature do evil$65 how are the sprouts of goodness lost$66 how can they be recovered$67 what is the relationship between individual cultivation and social environment$68 -- are not only central questions of pre-Qin thought but eternal questions that human beings of every era and every civilization must face.

Mengzi used a small mountain in the suburbs of the state of Qi as his metaphor to express the most profound truth about human nature. The trees of Ox Mountain are long gone, but Mengzi's words will forever resonate in every heart-mind that contemplates the question of human nature.

"If given its proper nourishment, there is nothing that will not grow; if deprived of its nourishment, there is nothing that will not wither away."

Such is the meaning of this.

Cited Texts (Pre-Qin and Han periods):

• Book of Documents (Shangshu): "Canon of Yao," "Great Declaration," "Declaration of Tang," "Pan Geng," "Announcement of the Duke of Shao," "Against Luxurious Ease," "Counsels of the Great Yu," "Timber of the Catalpa," "Count of the West's Conquest of Li"
• Book of Songs (Shijing): "Airs of Zhou's South: Peach Blossoms"; "Airs of Wei: Bends of the Qi"; "Lesser Odes: Abundant Growth," "Without Sheep," "Great Fields," "The Little Valley"; "Greater Odes: The Sacred Tower," "The Dry Foothills," "Admirable Delight," "Teeming Multitudes," "Lofty Mount Song"; "Airs of Qi: Cock-Crow"
• Book of Changes (Yijing/Zhouyi): Qian (Heaven), Kun (Earth), Fu (Return), Tai (Peace), Pi (Standstill), Meng (Youthful Folly), Da Xu (Great Accumulation) hexagrams, and the Commentary on the Appended Statements, Appended Text, Commentary on the Judgment, Commentary on the Image
• Analects (Lunyu): "Xue Er," "Wei Zheng," "Li Ren," "Gongye Chang," "Yong Ye," "Shu Er," "Ba Yi," "Zi Han," "Xiang Dang," "Yan Yuan," "Yang Huo," "Wei Zi," "Zizhang"
• Mengzi: "King Hui of Liang, Part 1," "Gongsun Chou, Part 1," "Teng Wen Gong, Part 2," "Li Lou, Part 1," "Li Lou, Part 2," "Gaozi, Part 1," "Fully Realizing the Heart-Mind, Part 1," "Fully Realizing the Heart-Mind, Part 2"
• Zuo Commentary (Zuozhuan): Duke Yin Year 1, Duke Xiang Year 14, Duke Xiang Year 25, Duke Zhao Year 1, Duke Zhao Year 25
• Discourses of the States (Guoyu)
• Record of Rites (Liji): "Summary of the Rules of Propriety," "Doctrine of the Mean," "Great Learning," "Pattern of the Household," "Record of Music"
• Xunzi: "On the Evil of Human Nature," "On the Regulations of a King"
• Laozi: Chapters 5, 18, 38, 42, 50, 76, 80
• Zhuangzi: "Free and Easy Wandering," "Discussion on Making All Things Equal," "Horses' Hooves," "Webbed Toes," "Responding to Emperors and Kings"
• Guanzi: "On the Cultivation of Authority," "Inner Training," "Techniques of the Heart-Mind, Part 1"
• Strategies of the Warring States (Zhanguo Ce): Qi Strategies, Part 1
• Spring and Autumn Annals of Mr. Lu (Lushi Chunqiu): "On Original Nature," "Beginning with Oneself," "On Valuing Life"
• Zhao Qi, Commentary on the Mengzi (Mengzi Zhangju)
• Dong Zhongshu, Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn (Chunqiu Fanlu): "Examining Names in Depth"
• Rites of Zhou (Zhouli): "Offices of Earth: Tax Master"
• Xu Shen, Explaining Graphs and Analyzing Characters (Shuowen Jiezi)

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Xuanji Editorial Board