Pathway to Japanese Literature

I intend to introduce, over six lectures under this title, the achievements of four great figures who appeared in China's past: Confucius, the First Emperor, Zhang Qian, and Zhuge Liang.

Today was an era where the masses reigned supreme; it was no longer an age of great men and heroes. To parade out such figures now might seem an anachronism. Yet as Carlyle observed, world history ultimately amounted to nothing more than the chronicles of great men. Were we to strip away their endeavors and accomplishments from history's tapestry, we would be left with a truly desolate landscape. This held particular truth for a nation like China—where political philosophy dictated that the paramount figure should become Son of Heaven, secondary figures serve as ministers guiding the people, and citizens accept unconditional obedience as their duty—here, great men's influence reached its zenith in both scale and scope. In China's historical pattern, countries were said to rise through one individual and fall through another, with dynastic fortunes appearing contingent upon the presence or absence of such figures during their eras—so heavily did history weigh their roles. By examining a period's great men, one could grasp the greater part of its historical essence. Though modern China's condition might try one's patience, its past had produced no small number of remarkable figures. Their deeds could serve as models for self-cultivation while simultaneously standing as monuments to China's cultural development.

1. Confucius (Part 1)

The first to be introduced should be Confucius.
Confucius's deeds are so widely known that I question whether there is any need to introduce them here deliberately.
However, one cannot possibly omit Confucius when discussing China's great figures.
I shall therefore present a brief account.
I will leave detailed accounts to works such as Cui Shu's *Zhusi Kaoxinlu* from the Qing dynasty and Dr. Kanie's *Confucius Studies*, focusing instead on introducing several noteworthy deeds.

Confucius originated from Yin and was a descendant of Song's ducal clan.
Over a century before Confucius's birth, his ancestors were compelled by circumstances to leave Song and settle in Lu, making his family people of Lu.
Among Confucius's ancestors emerged many individuals exemplifying loyalty, high virtue, scholarly attainment, and martial prowess.
That a sage like Confucius was born from this lineage could hardly have been accidental.
While Confucius's birth year is commonly recorded as the 22nd Year of Duke Xiang of Lu (551 BCE) based on the *Records of the Grand Historian*, the *Gongyang Zhuan* and *Guliang Zhuan* more accurately place it in Duke Xiang's 21st Year.
He passed away at seventy-four years of age in Duke Ai's sixteenth year (479 BCE).

According to the *Records of the Grand Historian*, Confucius’s birthplace was Changping Township Zouyi in Lu.
It roughly corresponds to the present-day location of the Confucian Temple in Qufu County, Shandong Province.
According to *Kongzi Jiayu*, Confucius’s father Shuliang He (or Zoulian He) passed away when Confucius was three years old.
In any case, there is no doubt that Confucius lost his father early and was raised by his mother.
When examining the biographies of the world's great figures, we find that Buddha lost his mother at birth, while Muhammad was even more unfortunate—losing his father while still in his mother's womb and parting from his mother at age seven to be raised in his uncle's household.
Jesus also parted from his father early.
Children who have lost both parents or a single parent are undoubtedly unfortunate, but the fact that great figures of the world have emerged from among these unfortunates is, I believe, a phenomenon worthy of attention.

In his youth, Confucius was hounded by poverty and endured considerable hardship in life.
He studied diligently amidst this destitution.
In ancient China generally, the period until age forty was considered one of self-cultivation, with entry into government service typically occurring around forty.
The Qu Li section of the *Book of Rites* indeed states: "At forty, one becomes strong and takes office."
Yet Confucius' early forties unfortunately coincided with Lu's era of civil strife—a time when Duke Zhao of Lu had been exiled by the Three Huan clans and compelled to wander foreign states for seven or eight years.
This turbulent period offered no opportunity for Confucius to assume official position.
When Duke Zhao died abroad and his younger brother Duke Ding was installed as Lu's ruler by the Three Huan clans, Confucius soon received appointment to office in Lu.
This occurred around Confucius' fiftieth year.

When Confucius was appointed in Lu, he achieved remarkable results spanning both domestic governance and foreign relations. In foreign affairs, against the neighboring state of Qi which had persistently threatened Lu, he repelled its unreasonable demands and maintained Lu's dignity as an independent state.

The malady of Lu's domestic governance lay in this point: the Three Huan Clans of the ducal house held political power while the ruler maintained only a nominal position—the so-called situation where the tail was too large to wag. Confucius sought to eliminate this longstanding malady by securing the Three Huan Clans' acquiescence and implementing a plan to curb their authority; yet just as the plan neared fruition, he encountered partial opposition, resulting in his efforts falling just short of completion—a nine-ren mound left unfinished by one final basketload. Due to these domestic political setbacks, Confucius withdrew from Lu's political arena in the thirteenth year of Duke Ding's reign (497 BCE).

Confucius, who abandoned his ambitions in Lu, left his homeland and traveled throughout the realm for thirteen or fourteen years, yet still failed to achieve his aspirations. Therefore, he returned to Lu and spent his later years there. Through a comprehensive survey of Confucius's life, it could roughly be divided into the three periods listed below.

(1) The period until around age fifty, during which he devoted himself to self-cultivation and awaited the opportunity to establish himself as a statesman.

(2) From around age fifty to around age sixty-eight: the period when he established himself as a statesman and traveled throughout the realm to further his political career.

(3) The period from around age sixty-eight onward, when he abandoned hope in the political world and prepared to pass on his Way to posterity.

The passage in the "Shu Er" chapter of the *Analects* that states, "How I have decayed! Long have I not dreamed of the Duke of Zhou!" represents Confucius's cry of disappointment upon realizing how ultimately unattainable his lifelong ambition as a statesman to revive the Duke of Zhou's ritual governance had been. This lament was likely voiced precisely when he abandoned hope in the political world.

2. Confucius (Part 2)

Now, having abandoned his ambitions in the political world and commenced preparations for his legacy, Confucius found that these preparations amounted to nothing more than two paths: writing and the training of disciples.
According to the *Records of the Grand Historian*, the Five Classics transmitted today—namely the *Book of Documents*, *Classic of Poetry*, *I Ching*, *Rites*, and *Spring and Autumn Annals*—were all edited by Confucius.
There have been some differing theories regarding this, but by and large it has been thus believed.
Had Confucius succeeded in politics and been engrossed in state affairs, he might have lacked the leisure for writing and thus been unable to sufficiently edit the classics.
From this perspective, one might consider that Confucius’s misfortune as a politician was in fact a blessing for the classics.

As for the training of disciples, since Confucius had achieved self-cultivation early—as evidenced by his saying "At thirty, I stood firm; at forty, I was free from delusion"—it is reasonable to assume that he already had some disciples from around the age of forty. However, he is believed to have devoted himself wholeheartedly to training disciples in his later years.

Confucius had seventy-two eminent disciples. Of these seventy-two disciples, according to the Records of the Grand Historian, about twenty-three have ascertainable ages. When examining the ages of these twenty-three individuals, there were many who were significantly younger than Confucius. Please refer to the table on the left.

Those one to nine years younger than Confucius: one person

Those ten to nineteen years younger than Confucius: two people

Those twenty to twenty-nine years younger than Confucius: three people

Those thirty to thirty-nine years younger than Confucius: six people

Those forty to forty-nine years younger than Confucius: seven people.

Those fifty to fifty-nine years younger than Confucius: four people

Among Confucius’s disciples, Yan Hui—the most renowned in later generations—was thirty years younger than Confucius; Zigong was thirty-one years younger; Zixia was forty-four years younger; Ziyou was forty-five years younger; Zeng Shen was forty-six years younger; and Zizhang was forty-eight years younger.
This fact can serve as one piece of evidence that Confucius trained many disciples in his relatively later years.

Among the flourishing multitude of disciples in the Confucian school, the most outstanding was none other than Yan Hui, whose courtesy name was Ziyuan.
That he stood apart from the other disciples as the foremost figure of the Confucian school could be readily grasped through even a single reading of the *Analects*.
Confucius himself had also highly praised Yan Hui.
Among the various disciples of the Confucian school, Zigong was renowned in society for his talent and learning—there were even some people at the time who rated him above his teacher Confucius.
When Confucius asked Zigong to compare himself with Yan Hui, Zigong replied:

"How dare I compare myself to Hui?"
"Hui hears one and thereby knows ten."
"I hear one and thereby know two."

Having said this, Confucius responded—

"You are not his equal."
"Neither I nor you are his equal."

This evaluation appears in the Gongye Chang chapter of the *Analects*.
From this too it became clear that Yan Hui was an innately brilliant man regarded as a genius by both Confucius and his disciples.
Moreover, their relationship transcended mere teacher-disciple formality, resembling that of father and son in affection—indeed, Confucius himself declared *"Hui regarded me as a father"* (*Xian Jin Pian*).
While journeying through the realm, Confucius once encountered disaster in a certain region and became separated from Yan Hui.
Confucius grew deeply concerned that Yan Hui might have perished, but when Yan Hui soon rejoined the group safely, he expressed gratitude for this concern by declaring:

"While you live,
how would I dare die?" (*Xian Jin Pian*).

It must be said theirs was a bond permitting shared life and death.
Needless to say, Confucius placed immense hopes in this Yan Hui, intending him to become the primary successor who would transmit his doctrines to posterity and realize his ambitions in the world after his death.
Yet this Yan Hui proved tragically short-lived, departing this world before Confucius.

The exact year of Yan Hui's death remains unclear.
However, there can be no doubt that it occurred during Confucius's later years.
It was presumably around the time Confucius turned seventy.
Having invested such profound hopes in Yan Hui over the years, Confucius fell into such pitiable despair at his disciple's passing that he lamented, "Alas! Heaven has forsaken me!"
He even sighed repeatedly, "Alas! Heaven has forsaken me!" (*Xian Jin Pian*).
Moreover, when Confucius visited Yan Hui's home to offer condolences—contrary to his usual restraint in matters of joy and sorrow—he wailed with such intensity that his disciples stared in astonishment, going so far as to declare: "If I should not grieve bitterly for this man, then for whom should I grieve?" (*Xian Jin Pian*).
Afterward, when Duke Ai of Lu and Minister Ji Kangzi inquired about his disciples, Confucius responded each time by saying,

"There was Yan Hui... Unfortunately, he died young."
"Now, there is none" (*Xian Jin Pian*; *Yong Ye Pian*).

he replied.
It became clear that Confucius could never forget Yan Hui.
In Confucius's life, there was no moment more heartrending than when Yan Hui died.
Confucius's later years were profoundly unfortunate.
Around the time of Yan Hui's death, he lost his biological son Li (Bo Yu), and one of his beloved disciples, Zilu, perished in Wei's political turmoil.
Yet Yan Hui's death remained Confucius's greatest misfortune—one can well imagine the devastating blow it dealt to both his physical and spiritual being.
Thus, three or four years after Yan Hui's passing, Confucius himself departed this world.

The tomb of Confucius lay within Konglin (the Cemetery of Confucius), located approximately fourteen or fifteen chō (about 1.5 kilometers) north of present-day Qufu County in Shandong Province.
Konglin (the Cemetery of Confucius) referred to the burial ground of Confucius and his clan.

3. Confucius (Part 2)

Finally, I would like to offer a few words regarding Confucius's character.
Some years ago, in the Confucius Memorial Issue of the magazine *Shibun*, I set forth my views on Confucius's character; I shall now excerpt and present its main points here.

(First) Confucius's life was ordinary. His career was ordinary, devoid of miracles; his doctrines were ordinary, lacking in prophecies. In other great figures of the spiritual realm—whether Buddha, Christ, or Muhammad—all are accompanied by miracles and prophecies. They at some period transitioned from the human realm to the divine realm. The more they transcend the human realm, the more difficult it becomes to make them immediate models for human cultivation. Confucius alone never departed from the human realm, beginning as a human and ending as a human. Confucius did not yield a single step to Buddha, Christ, or Muhammad in his greatness as a sage, but his life experiences and doctrines cannot escape being somewhat ordinary. The phrase "an ordinary great man" captures Confucius's distinguishing characteristic. Legge, renowned as the English translator of Chinese classics and as the first professor to hold the Chinese studies chair at Oxford University, once remarked of Confucius:

When viewed from an impartial standpoint, neither Confucius’s character nor his doctrines readily reveal the countenance of a great man.

Legge had remarked.
While Legge’s assessment was certainly mistaken，I believe that even within this error，the true character of Confucius as an ordinary great man reveals itself.

(Second) As stated above, Confucius was fundamentally ordinary but attained the status of a great man through ceaseless effort. There is scarcely anyone else whose self-cultivation yielded results as remarkable as Confucius’s. It is precisely this quality that makes him stand above other great men; I regard him as the most appropriate model for our self-cultivation.

As clearly seen in the Analects, Confucius was someone who constantly exerted himself and progressed year by year. The sequence of his advancement followed an extraordinarily systematic order, much like how students advance from elementary school to middle school, then to high school and university with each passing year. He elevated his character step by step through stages that anyone could emulate. Throughout his prolonged self-cultivation, there was not the slightest hint of mystery or miracle. In his later years, reflecting on his lifelong cultivation, Confucius declared: "At fifteen, I set my heart on learning; at thirty, I stood firm; at forty, I was free from doubts; at fifty, I understood Heaven's Mandate; at sixty, my ear became attuned; at seventy, I could follow my heart's desires without overstepping boundaries" (Wei Zheng Pian). We can see that he continued striving diligently in self-cultivation until his final years, forgetting even that old age approached. Among the world's great figures, there is likely none who devoted themselves to self-cultivation as earnestly as Confucius. He himself stated, "I was not born with knowledge" (Shu Er Pian; Analects), denying any innate greatness and confessing to being an ordinary great man who achieved success through cultivation. Later Confucians, in their excessive reverence, tried to forcibly separate Confucius as a sage of innate wisdom and effortless action from ordinary people—this must be deemed profoundly misguided. Particularly in recent years, those promoting Gongyang school teachings have attached various miracles to Confucius and attempted to portray him as a prophet—this constitutes nothing less than slanderous violence against Confucius's true nature.

(Third) Confucius's character was remarkably well-rounded.
In the *Analects*, Zigong evaluates Confucius as "warm, kind, respectful, frugal, and deferential" (Xue Er Pian), which I believe most aptly delineates Confucius's character.
Furthermore, the *Analects* states: "The Master rejected four things.
No arbitrariness.
No absolutes.
No obstinacy.
“No ego.”
As stated in *Zihan Pian*, Confucius never clung to self-opinion.
His words and deeds were consistently aligned with the Doctrine of the Mean, devoid of extremes or excesses.
Consequently, there was no danger and few harmful effects.

As such, because Confucius possessed a perfect personality and never deviated from the Doctrine of the Mean in his words and deeds, he suffered almost no persecution throughout his life.
He was unfortunate throughout his life, but his doctrines and conduct were generally respected by people of his time and never subjected to persecution.
Incidents such as the calamity involving Huan Tui and the hardships in Chen and Cai are said to have occurred, but these were exceptional events, and their actual circumstances remain unclear.
Not only during his own time but even in later ages, Confucius has hardly ever been criticized.
Even those who oppose Confucianism do not oppose Confucius.
Among the world's great figures, I consider one as rare as Confucius—a person who faced scarcely any criticism or opposition.
In the mid-Tokugawa period onward, national studies flourished in our country, and alongside the rise of so-called Japanese nationalism, there came opposition to all Chinese culture.
Among them, Motoori Norinaga and Hirata Atsutane attacked Confucianism without holding back, showering the so-called sages of Confucianism with scathing criticism.
However, even they refrained from criticizing Confucius.
Or perhaps they were unable to criticize him.

In any case, even the national scholars who disliked China not only refrained from criticizing Confucius in any way but instead praised him unreservedly.

Motoori,

"Though people may call him a sage, he is not of their kind—Confucius was a good man,"

wrote Motoori.
Even Hirata Atsutane—the standard-bearer of slanderers—acknowledged that Confucius remained unchanged in both heart and deed, just like his own master.

(Fourth) Despite Confucius having lived in ancient times 2,400 years ago, the details of his daily life were miraculously preserved in meticulous detail to this day.
When reading the *Analects*, one felt as if Confucius himself were before one’s eyes, and particularly in its Xiang Dang chapter, his lifestyle was depicted in such detail—from eating and drinking to sitting and reclining—that little was left wanting.
"He did not speak while eating."
"He did not speak while lying down," and "He did not stand in the middle of a doorway."
Such as "He did not step on thresholds when walking"—these were ordinary accounts that appeared repeatedly, not particularly worthy of being highlighted as actions of the great sage Confucius.
The fact that these unadorned and genuine details of an ancient great man’s daily life have been transmitted to the present day remained unique to Confucius, and I consider this another point where Confucius surpassed other great men as a model for our self-cultivation.

In summary, Confucius differed from other great men of the world in these points: his status as an ordinary great man; the exceptionally clear trajectory of his advancement through self-cultivation; the perfection of his character; the most detailed and unembellished accounts of his daily life; and above all, his consistent refusal to detach himself from humanity. It was precisely for these reasons that I deemed him the most suitable model for our self-cultivation.
That even ordinary people like ourselves could attain positions akin to Confucius'—if we but strove in self-cultivation without needing to follow some miraculous path—the fact that he provided a true model was indeed a characteristic unique to Confucius.

IV. Zhuge Liang (Part 1)

As great figures in Chinese history, I first listed Confucius, second introduced Qin Shi Huang, and third presented Zhang Qian. However, since Qin Shi Huang's deeds were already published in the January 1913 issue of *Shin Nihon* and Zhang Qian's deeds are included in *Zoku Shi no Kenkyū* released in February 1916 (contained in Volume III of this complete works), I shall omit recounting their achievements here and proceed directly to introduce the fourth figure—Zhuge Liang, that is, Zhuge Kongming.

Generally speaking，Chinese people tended to be duplicitous.
The facade and reality rarely corresponded.
Even Liang Qichao of that country cited a fondness for pretense as an inherent flaw among China experts.
Looking back at China’s renowned politicians and military figures throughout history，one found many whose hearts，words，and deeds stood entirely divorced—individuals who naturally invited others’ antipathy.
Amidst this，Zhuge Liang alone remained consistently sincere，with not a trace of impurity discernible in his conduct.
No one could fail to feel profound sympathy for Zhuge Liang，and anyone could draw profound lessons from him.
Thus，among scholars evaluating historical figures since antiquity，there had been scarcely any who criticized Zhuge Liang.
Even Song Confucians—those desk-bound scholars partial to pedantic fault-finding—unconditionally championed him in most cases.
Figures like Zhang Shi（Nanxuan）and Zhu Xi all hailed him as the foremost figure since the Three Dynasties.
Even Hirata Atsutane，notorious for his Sinophobia，spared no superlatives when praising Zhuge Liang.

The conduct of this man’s life—though he was Chinese—left even Atsutane unable to find fault. He came to be regarded as the sole successor after Confucius. ...As the various Yue peoples said: 'Before Confucius, there was no Confucius.' While it was said that 'After Confucius, there was no Confucius,' Hirata Atsutane held that after Confucius there existed only Kongming (*Seiseki Gairon*, Volume 3).

Now, Zhuge Liang’s style name was Kongming. Identified as a native of Langya Yangdu, he was born near present-day Yishui County in Shandong Province. His elder brother Zhuge Jin later served as a minister in Wu; a man of lofty virtue, the trust Sun Quan—ruler of Wu—placed in him nearly mirrored that between Liu Bei and Kongming. Zhuge Liang was born in the fourth year of Emperor Ling’s Guanghe era during the Eastern Han dynasty (181 CE). Having lost his father early, he entered the protection of his uncle Zhuge Xuan. When this uncle came under Liu Biao’s guardianship—Liu being Governor of Jing Province—Zhuge Liang naturally came to reside there as well. Following his uncle’s death, he withdrew into seclusion in the countryside near Xiangyang.

At precisely this time, Liu Bei—having been driven out by Cao Cao—sought refuge with Liu Biao in Jing Province, creating an opportunity for their eventual connection. The famed Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage occurred in the twelfth year of Emperor Xian’s Jian’an era (207 CE), when Kongming was twenty-seven. By then he had already formulated his plan to divide the realm into three. Cao Cao had secured seven-tenths of the land under heaven through abundant troops and supplies, rendering direct opposition futile. Sun Quan held firm in the southeast with foundations laid by three generations of his forebears; thus [the strategy] required allying with him while establishing a new base in Ba-Shu.

However, as the situation grew more urgent than anticipated, Cao Cao invaded Jing Province the following year, and with Liu Biao’s death from illness, Jing Province temporarily fell into Cao Cao’s hands.
Liu Bei found himself with almost nowhere to shelter and, fleeing southward to evade the peril, was compelled to seek aid from Sun Quan.
At this time, it was Kongming who became Liu Bei’s envoy and set out to persuade Sun Quan.
Kongming successfully persuaded Sun Quan and brought him over as an ally, resulting in the famous Battle of Red Cliffs.
This Red Cliffs is located near present-day Jiayu County in Hubei Province, upstream from Xiakou (Hankou).
The Red Cliffs from Su Dongpo’s *Ode to the Red Cliffs* lies downstream from Xiakou and corresponds to present-day Huanggang County in Hubei Province.
Therefore, Su Dongpo has written of "gazing west toward Xiakou."
If we speak of the Red Cliffs of the Three Kingdoms period, one must gaze east toward Xiakou, not west.
Since Su Dongpo, being unfamiliar with historical geography, perpetuated an error, the Red Cliffs of Huanggang County came to be commonly recognized as the ancient battlefield.
Now, with Cao Cao’s defeat at the Battle of Red Cliffs and his loss of the opportunity to annex southern China, Sun Quan occupied the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River in the south, while Liu Bei—somewhat later—ascended the river in Jian’an 19th year (214 CE) to seize Ba-Shu. Thus, the realm divided into three, forming the tripartite balance of Wei, Shu, and Wu.

Liu Bei occupied Shu and established a state, but before he could consolidate his rule, he passed away in 223 CE, whereupon seventeen-year-old Liu Shan succeeded him.
Liu Shan was both young in years and mediocre in nature; having received Liu Bei’s dying command and been entrusted with subsequent affairs, Kongming’s hardships were extraordinary.
At this very time, Zhuge Liang, now forty-three years old, governed the nation’s politics as Chancellor, concurrently served as Governor of Yizhou to personally oversee local administration, and had also held the position of Director of Retainers since before.
In short, he alone served as Prime Minister, Governor of Tokyo Prefecture, and Superintendent-General of the Metropolitan Police, so his busyness was beyond imagination.
Endowed with an exceptionally strong sense of responsibility, he never neglected his duties.
In such a manner that he personally reviewed all punishments of twenty or more, his busyness reached a state beyond mere busyness.
When Shu would dispatch armies for southern campaigns and northern expeditions, Kongming invariably commanded the troops; thus, he concurrently held the positions of Army Minister and Commander-in-Chief.
Consequently, Kongming literally had no time for sleep or meals.
In connection with this, there were instances where thoughtful individuals of the time admonished Kongming about his overwork.
However, there were unavoidable circumstances that necessitated Kongming being driven to such extremes of busyness.
That is, in Shu, military and civil personnel were severely lacking.
Kongming alone shone like the sun, while all other figures were truly few and far between.
In military affairs, there were Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun; however, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei met untimely deaths early on, and though Zhao Yun alone survived, he too passed away before long, after which there were almost no renowned generals remaining.
The civil side was even bleaker.
Wei, true to its reputation, controlled the Central Plains where talented individuals gathered like clouds.
Wu also established itself early in the southeast, and capable individuals gathered there.
Alone among them, Liu Bei had led a life of wandering for so long that he lost the opportunity to recruit capable individuals.
Finally, Shu managed to establish a base, but being a remote region, it remained lacking in capable individuals.
The fact that Kongming alone was exceptionally outstanding and the fact that there were no other capable individuals—these two reasons inevitably drove Kongming into excessive overwork.

5. Zhuge Liang (Part 2)

Once Shu's internal governance had been roughly organized, Kongming set out on his first expedition to attack Wei in 227 CE.
At this time, what was presented to Liu Shan was that renowned Former Chu Shi Biao (Petition on Departing for Battle)—a literary masterpiece so moving it was said to make even ghosts and gods weep.
The phrasing lacked any literary artifice, yet the entire text stood as a crystallization of wholehearted sincerity.
From then on, Kongming continued his expeditions repeatedly for seven years until the moment of his death, casting aside all other matters. However, due to difficulties beyond imagination in transporting military provisions when campaigning from Shu to Wei, as well as a shortage of capable generals to execute Kongming's plans, he fell ill and died in the midst of an expeditionary force without achieving full success.
That was in 234 CE, when he was fifty-four years old.
If only they could have granted him a few more years—this is a sentiment anyone might feel.

The very act of subduing Wei was an exceedingly difficult undertaking.
At that time, Wei had a population of four million five hundred thousand while Shu numbered nine hundred thousand; thus when Shu attacked Wei, they faced an enemy possessing over fivefold military and material strength.
From the outset, there were those who strenuously opposed Kongming's plans.
Kongming himself had keenly understood these difficulties.
Therefore, in his Later Memorial on the Expedition:

Han and traitors cannot coexist.
The imperial enterprise brooks no complacent security.
...Yet should we not smite the rebels,
The royal house too shall perish.
To sit awaiting destruction—
How compares this to taking arms?
...When your servant received this mandate,
Sleep brought no rest upon the mat,
Meals held no savor on the tongue,
All thought bent northward campaigns.
...Your servant bows exhausted yet striving,
Only death shall stay this course.
As for success or failure, gain or loss—
These lie beyond your servant's foresight,
Nor can their outcomes be divined.

Thus he declared.

Then why did he continue braving those difficulties to carry out the Northern Expeditions? There was a compelling reason for this. The Han dynasty, throughout its Eastern and Western periods, had reigned supreme over all under heaven for four hundred years, and its lingering influence had deeply permeated the hearts and minds of the people. As a distant relative of Han, Liu Bei was someone in whom many placed their hopes for the dynasty’s restoration, and Liu Bei himself had also championed the revival of Han. Therefore, conquering Wei—which had usurped the Han throne—was Liu Bei’s foremost obligation and had to constitute Shu’s primary raison d’être. If the Northern Expeditions were halted, Shu’s existence would have become meaningless. From Zhuge Liang’s perspective in particular, when Liu Bei was on his deathbed, he had earnestly entrusted him with the restoration of the Han enterprise and even gone so far as to declare that deposing Liu Shan would be permissible if necessary to achieve this objective. For Kongming, whether viewed from reason or personal sentiment, not a single day should have been forgotten in undertaking the Northern Expeditions. The subjugation of Wei was a grave matter that transcended considerations of success or failure and gain or loss.

It was precisely in disregarding success or failure, unyieldingly adhering to principle, and fulfilling his duty that Kongming’s noble character revealed itself. This is what Zengzi meant by “If, upon self-reflection, one finds oneself in the right, though ten thousand men oppose me, I shall go forth.”

In Kongming’s life, what moved me most profoundly lay not in the Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage, nor in his diplomatic mission to Wu where he persuaded Sun Quan, nor even in his southern campaigns where he captured and released Meng Huo seven times—it resided precisely in his implementation of the Northern Expeditions, disregarding success or failure to fulfill his duty.
If one were to argue from immediate minor gains and temporary stability, defending Shu’s natural fortifications while refraining from campaigns like the Northern Expeditions might have been wiser.
Yet such an approach amounted to mere survival—nothing less than Shu’s suicide.
Under these circumstances, they could never have won contemporaries’ or posterity’s sympathy.
That Shu garnered so many sympathizers across later generations stemmed from their devotion to principle over expediency.
While Chen Shou’s *Records of the Three Kingdoms* from Western Jin treated Wei as legitimate, scholars since Xi Zuochi of Eastern Jin increasingly advocated recognizing Shu’s legitimacy. After Southern Song, Chinese historiography fixedly placed Shu in the orthodox position and Wei as illegitimate.
Legitimacy theory should rest not on power’s magnitude but on principle’s rectitude.
This theory prioritizing Right above Might profoundly influenced societal ethics and popular sentiment.
My *Jinnō Shōtōki* too emerged under this intellectual sway.
We must remember how Kongming’s Northern Expeditions laid this legitimacy theory’s foundation—their millennial impact enduring through history.

6. Zhuge Liang (Continued)

Finally, I wish to add a few humble observations regarding Kongming’s character.

(I) Sincere Loyalty

China had been a land of revolution since ancient times, where the status of thrones remained perpetually unsettled.
The Zuo Zhuan records that “the positions of ruler and subject are not fixed.”
In such a polity, today’s vassal could become tomorrow’s sovereign.
Consequently, China’s rulers found it profoundly difficult to lodge sincere hearts within their subjects’ breasts.
They had no choice but to maintain constant vigilance through eyes clouded with suspicion toward their ministers.
Thus relationships where ruler and subject were inseparable as water and fish became virtually nonexistent.
Even Emperor Gaozu of Han—lauded as magnanimous and generous—resorted to slaughtering his own meritorious retainers to safeguard his position, such was the prevailing reality.
Yet between Liu Bei and Kongming alone did that aqueous symbiosis persist unbroken.
This stemmed not merely from Liu Bei’s consummate virtue but equally—I maintain—from Kongming’s unalloyed loyalty.

What is even more admirable is the relationship between Liu Shan and Kongming.
As Liu Bei faced his death and entrusted posthumous affairs to Kongming, he declared: “If my heir is worthy, assist him.
If he is not,
you may take the throne yourself,” and instructed Liu Shan: “You shall serve the Chancellor as your father.”
During Liu Shan’s era, all authority of Shu was concentrated solely in Kongming’s hands.
In China’s national circumstances, it was exceedingly difficult for powerful ministers in such positions to fully maintain their duty as subjects.
Even if a powerful minister intended to fully uphold his duty as a subject, those around him would not permit it.
Emperor Taizu of Northern Song warned his imperial guard commander Shi Shouxin: “You desire wealth and honor.
If ever someone were to place the imperial yellow robe upon you,
even if you wished not to act,
could you avoid it then?”—a precaution not unwarranted when viewed through China’s national circumstances.
In those so-called eras when the ruler was young and the nation stood in doubt, was not even the Duke of Zhou—revered as a sage—subjected to rumors of harboring ambition?
This is what Bai Juyi meant by “the day when the Duke of Zhou feared slanderous rumors.”
Yet no such slander ever arose against Kongming.
In such circumstances, those in China—past and present—who could fully fulfill their duty as subjects are nearly limited to Kongming alone.
This is none other than the result of Kongming being a man of sincere loyalty.

(II) Impartial and Selfless

Chen Shou, author of *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, commented on Kongming’s political governance as follows:

When Zhuge Liang served as Chancellor,
He soothed the people and demonstrated institutional regulations.
He opened his sincere heart and spread public justice.
Those who exhausted their loyalty to benefit the age—
Even enemies were invariably rewarded.
Those who violated the law or neglected their duties—
Even relatives were invariably punished.
...No good deed, however trivial, went unrewarded;
No evil deed, however slight, went unpunished.
...Although his penal governance was severe, none resented it,
For his intentions were fair and his admonishments clear.

Now, this Chen Shou was originally from Shu—a man who, given circumstances dating back to his father’s time, should have borne little goodwill toward the Zhuge family. He would have been more inclined to criticize Kongming beyond merit than praise him unduly—yet Chen Shou’s evaluation stands precisely as recorded above.

Zhuge Liang strictly enforced a merit-and-demerit system and punished many people, yet not only did he never incur resentment from those he disciplined—they instead came to hold him in genuine respect.
This was because he possessed warm tears.
During the first Northern Expedition, he executed Commander Ma Su to rectify the crime of having defied his command and caused a military defeat.
Ma Su was the military officer whom Kongming cherished most dearly, and Ma Su himself stated: "My Lord regarded Su as an adopted son, and Su regarded My Lord as a father."
They truly shared a relationship akin to that of father and son.
However, before the law, he allowed no personal feelings.
After rectifying Ma Su’s crime, Kongming wept while mourning his spirit and diligently protected his bereaved family.

Kongming also punished an official named Liao Li, demoting him to commoner status and exiling him to a remote region.
Kongming also censured Li Yan, the logistics commander-in-chief, for his misconduct and exiled this man as well.
These two men, upon hearing of Kongming’s death, both grieved and wept. In particular, it is said that Li Yan, overwhelmed by sorrow, ultimately fell ill and died.
All of this was ultimately because Kongming’s judgments held not a trace of personal bias, and those he punished were convinced of their guilt and submitted to their sentences.

In *Mencius* Jinxin I, it states: “When governing the people through the Way of Ease, though they toil, they do not complain. When executing people through the Way of Life, though they die, they do not resent their executioner.” It was Kongming who demonstrated this principle in practice. Through Kongming, the truth of Mencius’s teachings was proven. The true essence of politics remains unchanged across all ages. Today, I earnestly hope our nation’s politicians will strive not to forget this Way of Ease and Way of Life.

(III) Integrity and Austerity

In *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, within the biography of Zhuge Liang:

Initially, Liang himself submitted a memorial to the Later Sovereign (Liu Shan), stating:
"In Chengdu, there are eight hundred mulberry trees,
And fifteen qing of poor-quality fields.
The clothing and food for my children and younger siblings
I have more than enough......I do not engage in other livelihoods to increase my wealth by even an inch.
If the day comes when your servant dies,
I will not allow surplus silk within my household,
Nor surplus assets outside my household,
So as not to fail Your Majesty."
When he died, it was exactly as he had pledged.

Evidently, this was so.
Kongming held complete authority over Shu for over a decade.
He could have amassed wealth as he pleased.
Even if he himself did not actively seek wealth, it would have been easy for riches to come to him unbidden from those around him.
And yet, Zhuge Liang's integrity remained as described above.
A person of such probity as Kongming would likely be rare even when surveying the world at large—but particularly amidst the Chinese people, who so strongly value treasure over life itself and are driven by profit-seeking—Kongming's integrity should shine all the more brilliantly, I think.
(April 21 to June 20, 1923 [Taishō 12], Osaka Kaitokudō Lecture)