Brothers兄弟

There are people first, and then there are husband and wife. There are husband and wife, and then father and son. There are father and son, and then brothers. The close ties of one household are these three and no more. From here outward, as far as the nine degrees of kin (九族), all are rooted in these three ties, and so they weigh heavily among the bonds of men and must be held warmly. Brothers are men who share one body and carry on one breath. While they are small the parents lead one by the left hand and hold the other by the right, and the two go about together like the front of a robe and its hem. They eat from one table, they wear each other's clothes in turn, they take up their learning one after the other, and they play in the same place. Even a crooked and unruly man could not help loving his brother then. When they are grown, each takes his own wife for his wife and each takes his own son for his son, and even a warm and generous man cannot help withering a little. The wives of brothers, set beside brothers themselves, stand far off and thin. Now these distant and thin people are asked to measure out a close and generous kindness, and it is like putting a round lid on a square base, which will surely not fit. Only the man whose love for his brothers runs deep, and who is not swayed by those at his side, will escape this.

When both parents are gone, brothers should look to each other as a form looks to its shadow, as a sound looks to its echo. To love the body the forebears left behind, to cherish the breath divided from one's own, what is there to think of but a brother? Between brothers it is not as it is with other men. Where hope runs deep, resentment comes easily; where the ground is close, the resentment is easily laid to rest. It is like living in a house. Stop up each hole as it opens and plaster over each crack, and there is no fear of the house coming down. But take no care for the sparrows and the rats, put up no guard against wind and rain, and the walls sink and the pillars fall and nothing can save it. How grave a thing it is when servants and concubines become the sparrows and the rats, and a wife and children become the wind and the rain.

When brothers do not live in peace, their sons and nephews do not love one another. When sons and nephews do not love one another, the cousins grow distant and thin. When the cousins grow distant and thin, the servants become enemies. Once it has come to this, every passer-by treads on the face of such a house and tramples its heart, and who is there to save it? A man may keep company with the gentlemen of the whole world and win joy and love from them all, and yet fail in respect toward his elder brother. How is it that he can do well by the many and not by the few? A man may lead an army of tens of thousands and draw from them the strength to die for him, and yet fail in kindness toward his younger brother. How is it that he can do well by the distant and not by the near?

The wives of brothers stand on ground where quarrels are many. Even if flesh and blood were set in that place, it would be better for each to go off to a far quarter of the world, to feel the frost and the dew and think of one another, and to look toward the same sun and moon from afar. How much more so for people who came as strangers on the road and now stand on ground where quarrels are many; few of them can keep clear of a rift. It comes about because they take up a common duty and act on private feeling, because they carry a heavy charge and hold to a thin sense of right. If each would act by measuring others from her own heart, and would care for the other's child as for her own, this trouble would not arise.

A man does not serve his elder brother as he serves his father; then why complain that a brother's love for a younger brother falls short of his love for a son? This is to turn the light back and still see nothing. Liu Jin of Pei once lived with his elder brother Liu Huan under one roof with a single wall between them. Liu Huan called him several times and got no answer, and only after a long while did he reply. Liu Huan thought it strange and asked about it, and Liu Jin said, "It was because I had not yet put on my robe and cap." Serve an elder brother in this way, and one may keep clear of fault.

Wang Xuanshao of Jiangling and his younger brothers Xiaoying and Zimin, three brothers in all, loved one another beyond the common measure. When they came by something sweet or rare, not one of them would taste it first unless they were gathered to eat it together, and the look on their faces when they met was always eager, as though nothing were enough. When the Western Terrace (西臺) fell, Xuanshao was surrounded by soldiers because he was large of body. His two younger brothers struggled to throw their arms around him, and each begged to die in his place. In the end he was not set free, and so all three lost their lives together.