Shuori — Explaining the Sun說日篇

The scholars say, "The sun is seen in the morning because it comes out of the yin; in the evening it is not seen because it goes into the yin. The breath of yin is dark and murky, and so the sun sinks and is not seen." Discussed as it really is, the sun does not come out of the yin or go into it. How is this shown? Night is yin, and its breath too is dark and murky; yet if a man lifts a torch at night, the light is not put out. The yin of night is the yin of the north. What comes out in the morning and goes in at evening is like the torch a man lifts. A torch lifted at night is not put out, but the sun, going in at evening, alone is not seen. This is no proof that the breath does it. Look at where the winter sun comes out and goes in. In the morning it comes out in the southeast, in the evening it goes in in the southwest. The southeast and the southwest are not yin. Why then say that it comes out of the yin and goes into the yin? A star is small and is still seen; the sun is great and is put out instead. The argument of the scholars of the age is empty and false in the end.

The scholars say, "The winter day is short and the summer day is long, and this too is from yin and yang. In summer the breath of yang is much and the breath of yin is little. The breath of yang is bright and shines together with the sun, and so when the sun comes out nothing screens it. In winter the breath of yin is dark and covers the light of the sun, so that although the sun comes out it is still hidden and not seen. Therefore in winter the day is short: yin is much and yang is little, the opposite of summer." Discussed as it really is, the length of the day is not from yin and yang.

How is this proved? Again by the stars of the north. The yin of the north is the yin of the sun. The yin of the north does not cover the light of the stars. Why then should the yin of the winter day alone put out the brightness of the sun? From this it is plain that those who explain it by yin and yang have missed the truth. The truth is that in summer the sun is in Dongjing and in winter the sun is in Qianniu. Qianniu is far from the pole, and so the sun's road is short. Dongjing is near the pole, and so the sun's road is long. In summer the sun goes north and reaches Dongjing; in winter it goes south and reaches Qianniu. So the turning points of the winter and summer seasons are both called the arrival, zhi (至), and spring and autumn have not arrived, and so they are called the division, fen (分).

Someone says, "In summer the breath of yang is at its height, and the breath of yang is in the south, and so heaven is lifted up and high. In winter the breath of yang is weak, and heaven is pressed down and low. When heaven is high the sun's road is long, and so the day is long; when heaven is low the sun's road is short, and so the day is short." I answer: if the breath of yang is at its height, and heaven is lifted in the south, and the sun's road is long, then the moon's road should be long as well. Look: when the summer day is long, the sun comes out in the northeast and the moon comes out in the southeast; when the winter day is short, the sun comes out in the southeast and the moon comes out in the northeast. If in summer heaven were lifted in the south, the sun and the moon should both come out in the northeast; if in winter heaven came down again, the sun and the moon should both come out in the southeast. From this it is plain that in summer heaven is not lifted in the south, and in winter heaven is not pressed down. Then the summer day is long because the star from which the sun comes out is in the north, and the winter day is short because the star from which it comes out is in the south. Question: "In the fifth month of summer, when the day is long, the sun is in Dongjing, and Dongjing is near the pole, and so the sun's road is long. But look at the fifth month: the sun comes out at yin and goes in at xu. If its road is long and it is far from men, how can men see it come out at yin and go in at xu?" When the sun is in Dongjing it is very near to men. If Dongjing were near the pole, it would turn as the pole turns, and men would see it always. If Dongjing stood at the side of the pole, would not night be day forever? If the sun traveled sixteen parts by daylight, men would see it always, and it would no longer come out and go in. Some of the scholars say, "The sun and the moon have nine roads, and so the sun's going is now near and now far, and night and day are now long and now short." But in the fifth month the day is eleven parts and the night five parts; in the sixth month the day is ten parts and the night six parts; and from the sixth month to the eleventh month each month takes away one part. Then the sun's going follows a road of one part each month, and in a year the sun travels sixteen roads in heaven. How should there be only nine?

Someone says, "Heaven is high in the south and low in the north. The sun comes out high, and so it is seen; it goes in low, and so it is not seen. Heaven rests like a tilted canopy, and so the pole is to the north of men, and that is the proof. The pole is the middle of heaven, and now it lies to the north of men, and so it is clear that heaven is like a tilted canopy." If the brightness of the sun is likened to a tilted canopy, then heaven should have the shape of a canopy. The pole star is above and to the north, like the knob of the canopy. Then below it, in the south, where is the thing that answers to the shaft of the canopy? Take a canopy and tilt it against the ground, and it cannot be turned; stand it up and plant it, and then it can turn. Now heaven turns and moves, and its northern edge does not touch the ground. If it struck and caught, how could it move? From this it is plain that heaven is not shaped like a tilted canopy, and that the coming out and going in of the sun does not follow the height and lowness of heaven.

Someone says, "The northern edge of heaven goes down into the earth, and the sun goes into the earth along with heaven; the earth screens it thickly, and so men do not see it." But heaven and earth are husband and wife, and joined they make one body. Heaven is within the earth and the earth joins with heaven; heaven and earth put their breaths together, and so they can bring things to birth. The north is yin; there they join their bodies and put their breaths together, and so it dwells in the north. Does heaven then turn and travel inside the earth, or is the land of the north low and not level? If heaven truly traveled inside the earth, then dig the ground one zhang and the springs of water appear; if heaven traveled inside the earth, would it come out of the water and go into the water? And if the north were low and not level, then the nine rivers would pour northward and could never be filled. The truth is that heaven is not inside the earth, and the sun does not hide along with heaven, and heaven is flat and level, no different from the earth. Yet the sun comes out above and goes in below because it follows the turning of heaven. Heaven is seen as though it were an overturned basin, and so the sun is seen to go up and down in this way, as though it came out of the earth and went into it. So the sun's coming out is its being near, and its going in is its being far and no longer seen, and that is called going in; and when it turns and is seen near in the east, that is called coming out. How is this proved? Hang a bright moon pearl on a carriage canopy and turn it round. Does the bright moon pearl come out and go in?

A man's sight does not reach beyond ten li, and there heaven and earth seem to meet; they are far off, and are not joined. Now when the sun is seen to go in, it is not going in; it is only far away. When the sun goes in in the west, the people below it will also call it noon; and looking east from under the place where the sun goes in, toward the world of men here, they too may find that heaven and earth seem to meet. In this way, the world of men here lies to the south, and so it is said that the sun comes out in the east and goes into the land of the north; and where the sun comes out in the north and goes in in the south, each takes what is near for the coming out and what is far for the going in. In truth the sun does not go in; it is far. Stand at the shore of a great marsh and look at the edge on every side, and it seems to join with heaven; in truth it does not join, but it is far and seems to join. The sun takes distance for its going in, and the marsh takes distance for its joining, and the truth of them is one. Beyond the edge of the marsh there is dry land, and a man looks and does not see it; the land is there, but to the eye it is as though gone. The sun too is there, but to the eye it is as though it had gone in. Distance is the cause of both. Mount Tai is so high that it pierces heaven and enters the clouds, yet go a hundred li away and you do not see a lump of it. If at a hundred li Mount Tai is not seen, how much more the sun, whose distance from men is counted in tens of thousands of li! The steepness of Mount Tai is plain already. Try this: let a man take a great torch and walk a road at night, on level ground with nothing steep, and before he is one li from you the torchlight is put out. It is not put out; it is far.

Now when the sun turns west and is no longer seen, it has not gone in. Question: "If heaven is flat and level, no different from the earth, then why, when we look up at heaven and watch the going of the sun and moon, is heaven high in the south and low in the north?" I answer: the world of men here lies above the southeast, and so heaven seems high to the eye, and the road of the sun and moon lies to the south of men. The world of men here lies below the road of the sun and moon, and so, watching the going of the sun and moon, it seems high in the south and low in the north. How is this proved? If heaven were high, the stars of the south should be high as well; but look at the stars of the south and they are low. Is heaven then low in the south too? When a man looks at where heaven rests, the near part is high and the far part is low. The people at the far north hold the north to be high and the south to be low, and it is the same at the far east and the far west. All take what is near for high and what is far for low. From below the northern frontier, look up nearby at the Dipper and the pole, and they are straight above men. North of the Xiongnu is the rim of the earth; go up north and look at heaven, and again heaven is high in the north and low in the south, and the road of the sun and moon is above it as well. Stand on Mount Tai and Mount Tai is high; go ten li down from it and Mount Tai is low. The height and lowness of heaven is like a man looking at Mount Tai. Heaven is flat and level, and the four quarters and the center are all alike in height and lowness. Now the four edges of heaven seem low to the eye; they are not low, they are far. And not only low: they seem to meet the earth.

Some of the scholars hold that the sun is near at morning and evening, when it comes out and goes in, and far at noon. Others hold that it is near at noon and far when it comes out and goes in.

Those who hold that the sun is near when it comes out and goes in, and far at noon, have seen that it is big when it comes out and goes in and small at noon. When a man looks at a thing it is big if it is near and small if it is far, and so they say it is near when it comes out and goes in and far at noon. Those who hold that it is far when it comes out and goes in and near at noon have seen that it is warm at noon and cold when the sun comes out and goes in. The light of a fire is warm when it is near a man and cold when it is far from him, and so they say it is near at noon and far when it comes out and goes in. Each of the two arguments has seen something, and so right and wrong, crooked and straight, have not been settled. Discussed as it really is, the sun is near at noon and far when it comes out and goes in. How is this proved? By planting a pole under a roof. The house is three zhang high. Plant the pole upright under the ridgebeam, so that above it strikes the ridgebeam and below it reaches the ground, and the ridgebeam is three zhang from the ground. Tilt the pole to the side, and its end slips away and cannot reach the ridgebeam, and the distance from the ground is more than three zhang. At noon the sun stands straight above in heaven, like the pole planted upright, three zhang from the ground. When the sun comes out and goes in, it is aslant at a man's side, like the pole slipped to the side, more than three zhang from the ground. This being so, it may be known plainly that the sun is near at noon and far when it comes out and goes in. Try it again: let one man sit in the hall of a house and another walk on the roof. When his walking is at the middle of the roof he is straight above the man sitting, and the man on the roof and the man sitting below are three zhang apart. When the man on the roof is on the east eaves or the west eaves, he and the man sitting below are more than three zhang apart. Noon is like the man straight above on the roof, and the first coming out and the going in are like the man at the east eaves and the west eaves. At noon the sun is near to men, and so it is warm; when it comes out and goes in it is far, and so it is cold. Then why is the sun small at noon and big when it comes out and goes in? At noon its light is bright, and so it is small; when it comes out and goes in its light is dim, and so it is big. It is like a fire, whose light is small when a man looks at it by day and big when he looks at it by night. Fire has been taken for proof; take the stars for proof as well. The stars are not seen by day because the glare puts them out; at night there is no glare, and then the stars are seen. The sun and moon are of the same kind as the stars. At dawn and at the sun's going in the light melts away, and so to the eye it is big.

The scholars argue that the sun comes out of Fusang in the morning and goes into Xiliu in the evening. Fusang is a land of the east, and Xiliu is a field of the west.

Fusang and Xiliu, they say, are the ends of heaven and earth, the places where the sun and moon always come out and go in. Question: in the second month and the eighth month of the year the sun comes out due east and goes in due west, and one may say that it comes out of Fusang and goes into Xiliu. But when the summer day is long the sun comes out in the northeast and goes in in the northwest, and when the winter day is short it comes out in the southeast and goes in in the southwest. In winter and summer the sun comes out and goes in at the four corners. Where then do Fusang and Xiliu stand? What they argue holds for spring and autumn, and not for winter and summer. Discussed as it really is, the sun does not come out of Fusang or go into Xiliu. How is this proved? It turns along with heaven; when it is near it is seen, and when it is far it is not seen. When it is over Fusang and Xiliu, the people of Fusang and Xiliu will call it noon; and looked at from Fusang and Xiliu, it may at that time be coming out and going in elsewhere. All take what is above them for the middle of the day and what is at their side for morning and evening. How then should it come out of Fusang and go into Xiliu? The scholars argue and say: heaven turns to the left, and the going of the sun and moon is not tied to heaven, but each turns of itself.

I object and say: if the sun and moon went of themselves and were not tied to heaven, the sun going one degree and the moon thirteen degrees, then when the sun and moon come out they should go forward and turn east. Why do they turn west as at the first? They are tied to heaven, and they turn and go along with heaven through the four seasons. The likeness is an ant walking on a millstone. The going of the sun and moon is slow and the going of heaven is swift; heaven holds the sun and moon and turns, and so the sun and moon in truth go east while they turn west instead.

Someone asks, "The sun, the moon and heaven all go, and the degrees of their going are not the same. If we prove the slowness and swiftness of the three by men and things, to what shall we liken them?"

I answer: heaven goes one round in a day. The sun goes one degree, two thousand li. By daylight the sun goes a thousand li, and a qiji horse also goes a thousand li in a day. So the slowness and swiftness of the sun's going is of the same sort as the step of a qiji. The moon goes thirteen degrees: ten degrees are twenty thousand li and three degrees six thousand li, and so the moon goes twenty-six thousand li in one day and one night. This is of the same sort as the flight of a wild duck at dawn.

Heaven goes three hundred and sixty-five degrees, seven hundred and thirty thousand li in all. Its going is very swift, and there is nothing by which to prove it; it must be of the same sort as the turn of a potter's wheel and the flight of a crossbow bolt. The going of heaven is swift already, but it is high and far from men, and to the eye it seems slow. When a man looks at a far-off thing, it seems not to move though it moves, and not to go though it goes. How is this proved? Ride a boat on a river or the sea and run before the wind: near the bank the going is swift, and far from the bank the going is slow. The going of the boat is one and the same, yet it is now swift and now slow; seeing it from near and from far makes it so. Look up at the turning of heaven, and it is not like a qiji running with the sun on its back. Set them against each other at evening, and the sun is ahead of it.

Why? The qiji is near and the sun is far. What is far seems slow and what is near seems swift, and in a course of sixty thousand li it is hard to get at the truth of the turning and going.

The scholars explain it and say, "The sun goes one degree, and heaven goes three hundred and sixty-five degrees in one day and one night. Heaven goes to the left and the sun and moon go to the right, and they meet heaven face to face." Question: the going of the sun and moon is tied and fastened to heaven; the sun and moon cling to heaven and go, and they do not go of themselves. How do I say so? The Yi says, "The sun, the moon and the stars cling to heaven; the hundred fruits and the grasses and trees cling to the earth." To cling, li (麗), is to be attached. What is attached to heaven and goes is like a man attached to the earth and going round it, and the likeness taken for it is an ant walking on a millstone. Question: "How do you know that they do not leave heaven and go straight of themselves?" If the sun could go straight of itself, it should go east of itself, and there would be no reason for it to follow heaven and turn west. The going of the moon is the same as the going of the sun, and both of them cling to heaven. How is this proved? It is proved by the clouds. The clouds do not cling to heaven, and they stay always in the place where they are; if the sun did not cling to heaven, it too should stay of itself in its place. From this it is plain that the going of the sun clings to heaven.

Question: "The sun is fire. Fire on the earth does not go; the sun is in heaven, and how is it that it goes?" I answer: the breath that clings to heaven goes, and the breath that clings to the earth does not go. Fire clings to the earth, and the earth does not go, and so fire does not go. It is objected: "If the breath that clings to the earth does not go, how is it that water goes?" I answer: the going of water is its flowing east into the sea.

The northwest is high and the southeast is low. The nature of water is to return downward, as the nature of fire is to run upward. If the land were not high in the west, water too would not flow east. It is objected: "If the breath that clings to the earth does not go, how is it that men cling to the earth and go?" I answer: the going of a man is a seeking to do. The way of man is to do, and so he goes and seeks. In old times men were plain and simple; neighboring states touched at their borders and the sound of their cocks and dogs was heard from one to the other, yet to the end of their lives they did not go to and fro. It is objected: "If the breath that clings to heaven goes, how is it that the host of stars does not go?" I answer: the host of stars is fixed to heaven, and heaven goes already; to turn along with heaven is also to go. It is objected: "The way of man is to do, and so he goes; the way of heaven does nothing, and how then does it go?" I answer: the going of heaven is the giving out of breath, and it is so of itself. Give out breath, and things are born of themselves; heaven does not give out breath on purpose in order to bear things. If it did not move, breath would not be given out; if breath were not given out, things would not be born. This is unlike the going of man. The going of the sun, the moon and the five stars all gives out breath.

The scholars say, "In the sun there is a three-footed crow; in the moon there are a hare and a toad." Now the sun is the fire of heaven, and it is no different from the fire of the earth. In the fire of the earth there is no living thing; why should there be a crow in the fire of heaven? There is no living thing in fire, and a living thing that goes into fire is scorched and dies. How should a crow stand there? The moon is water. There are living things in water, but they are not hares and toads. A hare or a toad long in the water would die without fail. When the sun and moon wane in heaven, conches and clams dwindle in the deeps, and it is clear that their breath is the same. Then are what they call the hare and the toad the conch and the clam instead? And I ask the scholars: are the crow, the hare and the toad dead or alive? If they are dead, they have been long in the sun and the moon, and they are dried and rotted. If they are alive, then when the sun is wholly eaten, and when the moon is always spent at the month's end, where are the crow, the hare and the toad? The crow, the hare and the toad are the breath of the sun and moon, like the organs in a man's belly, like the heart and the backbone of the ten thousand things. The moon may still be looked at, but no man looks at the sun without being dazzled. He cannot know what breath the sun truly is; shall he see through it and see a thing inside it and name it a crow? If he truly cannot see the shape of a crow in the sun, shall he see through it and see that its feet are three? This is not the truth already. And hear the words of the scholars: creatures and things are not of one kind. Why then should there be a crow in the sun and a hare and a toad in the moon?

The scholars say that when the sun is eaten, it is the moon that eats it. They have seen that the sun is eaten always at the month's end or on the first day, and that at the month's end and on the first day the moon joins with the sun, and so they say it can eat it.

In the time of the Chunqiu the sun was eaten many times. The Classic says: in such a month, on the first day, there was an eating of the sun. "There was an eating of the sun" need not mean the moon. If it were known that the moon ate it, why should the writer shun the word and not say the moon? Speaking of the strangeness of the sun's eating, they say that yang is weak and yin is strong. Among men and things in the world, only what is stout and strong in force can ride over another and put it down. Look: at the month's end the moon's light is done, and on the first day it is as though spent; its weakness is extreme. How should it overcome the sun? The eating of the sun is like the eating of the moon. If the eating of the sun is the moon eating it, who eats the moon? Nothing eats the moon; the moon takes from itself. Argue from the moon to the sun, and the eating of the sun too is a light taking from itself.

Roughly, in forty-one or forty-two months the sun is eaten once, and in a hundred and eighty days the moon is eaten once. Their eatings all have their times; what is out of its time is held a strange thing, and even when it becomes a strange thing, the breath is so of itself. The sun is eaten at the month's end and on the first day; does the moon do it again and again? The sun ought to be full and whole, and its waning is taken for a strange thing. If it must be said that something eats it, then when mountains fall and the earth shakes, who is the eater? Someone explains it and says, "The eating of the sun is the moon covering it. The sun is above and the moon is below, and the sun is screened by the shape of the moon. When the sun and moon join and lie one on the other, with the moon above and the sun below, the moon cannot cover the sun. When the sun is above and the moon is below the sun and screens the sun, the light of the moon covers the light of the sun, and so we say it is eaten. It is screened by the moon, as when dark clouds hide the sun and moon so that they are not seen. When their edges join, that is the eating of one by the other; and when they join and match like two jade discs laid one on the other, that is the sun wholly eaten."

That the sun and moon join at the month's end and on the first day is the constant way of heaven; but that the eating of the sun is the moon covering the light of the sun is wrong. How is this proved? If the sun and moon joined and the moon covered the light of the sun, then the edge first eaten should change places with the edge that comes back at the end. Suppose the sun is in the east and the moon in the west. The moon goes swiftly and comes east up to the sun and covers the sun's edge, and in a moment it passes the sun and goes east. Then the light of the west edge, the place first covered, should come back, and the east edge, not yet covered, should be eaten in its turn. Now look at the eating of the sun: the light of the west edge is gone, and when it comes back, it is the light of the west edge that comes back. To pass over and cover, going to the east edge and then back to the west edge, and to call this joining and lying one on the other and screening, how can it be?

The scholars hold that the bodies of the sun and moon are both perfectly round. They look up at their shape from below and find it like the shape of a measure or a basket, a form truly round; but this is not as good as looking at the far-off light and breath, and the breath is not round. The sun and moon are not round, and they seem round because they are far from men. How is this proved? The sun is the essence of fire and the moon is the essence of water. On the earth water and fire are not round; why in heaven should water and fire alone be round? The sun and moon in heaven are like the five stars, and the five stars are like the host of stars. The host of stars is not round, and its light seems round because it is far from men. How is this made plain? In the time of the Chunqiu stars fell on the capital of Song. Men went and looked at them, and they were stones, and not round. Because the stars are not round it is known that the sun, the moon and the five stars are not round either.

The scholars who speak of the sun, and the masters of the crafts, all take the sun to be one. The Shanhai jing of Yu and Yi says that there are ten suns. Beyond the sea, in the east, there is Tanggu, and above it is Fusang; the ten suns bathe in the water, and there is a great tree, and nine suns dwell on its lower branches and one sun dwells on its upper branch.

The Huainan book says further that the Torch Dragon lit the ten suns, and that in the time of Yao ten suns came out together and the ten thousand things were scorched and withered, and that Yao shot upward at the ten suns, and that for this reason they are not seen together as one sun. The common people also name the days by jia and yi, and from jia to gui is ten days in all, and they say that the sun being ten is like the stars being five. Men of wide learning and masters of talk put it away as hard to know and are unwilling to make it clear. So the writings come down in two forms and are not settled, and the world speaks with two voices and has no master. Truly discussed as it is, there are not ten. How is this proved? The sun is like the moon; if there are ten suns, are there twelve moons? The stars are five, the essences of the five elements, and metal, wood, water, fire and earth differ each in light and color. If there were ten suns, their breath would have to differ. Now look at the sunlight, and there is nothing different in it; look at its size and at its order, first and last, and it is all one. If their breath truly differed, their light and color should be unlike; and if their breath is truly the same, they should join into one, and there is no reason for them to be ten. Prove the sun by the burning mirror, and the fire comes down from heaven. The sun is a great fire. Look at fire on the earth, and it is one breath; on the earth there are not ten fires, and how should heaven have ten suns? Then what are called the ten suns are perhaps some other thing, whose light and substance are like the shape of the sun, dwelling in the water of Tanggu and at times climbing and resting on Fusang. Yu and Yi saw them, and so they wrote down ten suns. The reckoners measure the light of the sun and count the substance of the sun, and its diameter is a thousand li. Suppose the sun that comes out were this sun on the Fusang tree: then the Fusang tree would have to cover ten thousand li to hold them. Why? Because one sun is a thousand li across, and ten suns should be ten thousand li. Heaven is more than ten thousand li from men, and looking up at it the sunlight dazzles the eye, and the light of the fire is so strong that no man can bear it. If the sun that comes out were this sun on the Fusang tree, Yu and Yi could not have seen it and known it for the sun. Why? Looking up at one sun the eyes are dazzled already; how much more at ten suns! When Yu and Yi saw them they were like the shape of a measure or a basket, and so they named them suns. A fire like a measure or a basket is a shape seen at sixty thousand li; they did not go up and see it, and it is not the body they looked at. From this it is plain that what Yu and Yi saw seemed to be suns and were not suns. Between heaven and earth things and breaths resemble one another, and many of them are not what they seem. Beyond the sea, in the southwest, there is a pearl tree. Look at it and it is pearls, yet they are not the pearls that come from a fish. The suns of the ten suns are like the pearls of the pearl tree: the pearl tree is like pearls and is not true pearls, and the ten suns are like suns and are not real suns. Huainan saw the Shanhai jing, and so he said emptily that a true man lit the ten suns, and wrote down wildly that in the time of Yao ten suns came out together. Moreover the sun is fire and Tanggu is water, and water and fire harm one another; if ten suns bathed in Tanggu they should be put out and undone. Fire burns wood, and Fusang is a tree; if ten suns dwelt above it, it should wither. Now they bathe in Tanggu and their light is not put out, and they climb Fusang and its branches do not wither, and it is the same as the sun that comes out today. This is not borne out by the five elements, and so it is known that the ten suns are not true suns. And when Yu and Yi saw the ten suns it was surely not at night but by day; then when one sun came out the nine should have stayed. How should ten suns come out together? And if at dawn the sun had not yet come out, still the going of heaven has its degrees and number, and the sun turns and goes along with heaven. How should it stay among the branches of Fusang and bathe in the water of Tanggu?

If it stayed, it would lose the degrees of its going, and the degrees would fall out of step and no longer answer one another. And if the sun that goes and comes out differs from the ten suns, then these seemed to be suns and were not suns.

The Chunqiu, in the seventh year of Duke Zhuang, says, "In summer, in the fourth month, on the day xinmao, in the middle of the night the fixed stars were not seen, and the stars were like rain." The Gongyang Commentary says, "What is 'like rain'? It was not rain. If it was not rain, why is it called like rain? The unrevised Chunqiu said: stars rained down, and before they came within a foot of the ground they went back up. The gentleman revised it and said: the stars were like rain." The unrevised Chunqiu is the record of the historians of Lu before the Chunqiu was revised, which said, "Stars rained down, and before they came within a foot of the ground they went back up." The gentleman is Confucius. Confucius revised it and said, "The stars were like rain." The meaning of Confucius was this: on the earth there are hills and mounds and towers and terraces, and to say that they did not come within a foot of the ground would be to miss the truth, and so he set it right and said "like rain." "Like rain" means that rain comes down from above the ground, and the stars too came back from heaven; they were alike, and so he said "like." Though Confucius did not say "within a foot of the ground" but only "like rain," what both of them named were stars. Though Confucius fixed their place and set down his words, in calling them stars he was at one with the historians. Look from level ground at the peak of Mount Tai, and a crane is like a crow and a crow like a sparrow, because Mount Tai is high and far and the size of things loses its truth. Heaven is more than sixty thousand li from the earth, and its height and distance are not merely those of the peak of Mount Tai. The stars are fixed to heaven, and when a man looks at them he loses the truth of the stars, and it is not merely like looking at cranes and crows. By the reckoning, the substance of a star is a hundred li; its body is great and its light is strong, and so it can hang down its shining, and a man looks at it and it is like the shape of a phoenix egg, for distance has lost its truth. If they were truly stars, then when a star of heaven came to the ground a man would not know it for a star. Why? Because its size then would not be the same as in heaven. Now these stars were seen as they are in heaven; then the stars of that time were not stars, and breath made them. A man sees a ghost in the shape of a dead man, and in truth it is the shapes of breath gathered, and not a real dead man. So the shape of those stars was in truth not a star. What Confucius is said to have set right was a thing that was not a star and moved, and his setting right of the words "like rain, and not rain" misses the truth of the stars all the same. The Zuo Commentary on the Chunqiu says, "In the fourth month, on the day xinmao, in the middle of the night the fixed stars were not seen: the night was bright. The stars were like rain: they came together with the rain." Its saying that the night was bright and so they were not seen is of the same sort as the saying in the Yi that at noon the Dipper is seen. At noon the Dipper is seen when it is dark and not bright; in the middle of the night the stars are not seen when the night is light and bright. The matters differ and the sense is the same, and this is likely the truth. Its saying that they came together with the rain means that they gathered. Now if the night of xinmao was bright and so the stars were not seen, then brightness is proof that it did not rain. The breath of rain is dark and murky; how should it be bright? If it was bright there was no rain, and how then should they come together with the rain? This being so, to say that they came together with the rain is not the truth; and having said that the night was bright and they were not seen, how could one see the stars coming together with the rain? Again, in the sixteenth year of Duke Xi, in the first month, on the day wushen, five stones fell in Song, and the Zuo Commentary says, "They were stars." Now if stones are called stars, then stars are called stones. If the stars of the night of xinmao were stars, then in truth they were stones; and if the stars of the night of xinmao were like these stones, then where there were towers and terraces on the ground, the towers and terraces would have been thrown down. Though Confucius did not agree to say "within a foot of the ground," there must have been a true measure on the ground, and the historians of Lu saw it with their eyes and did not speak emptily. Clouds go together with rain, and the rain gathers on the ground, and the stones should do the same. They came to the ground and the towers and terraces were not thrown down, and it is plain that they were not stars. And how did Zuo Qiuming look into it, to call stones stars? Were the stones of that time light?

How do they know that they fell from heaven? In the time of Qin three mountains vanished, and what vanishes does not melt away; when they came down and gathered there must have been a sound. It may be that a mountain of the barbarians came and gathered in Song, and Song heard of stones and called them stars, and Zuo Qiuming looked into it and called them stars. Now the stars are the essence of the ten thousand things and are one with the sun and moon. Those who speak of the five stars say that they are the light of the essence of the five elements. The five stars and the host of stars shine with the same light, and to call the host of stars stones alone is, I fear, to miss the truth. The truth is that on the night of xinmao the stars were like rain and were not stars, just as the ten suns of Tanggu were like suns and were not suns.

The scholars say further that rain comes down from heaven, meaning that it falls straight down from heaven. Discussed as it really is, rain comes up from the earth and does not come down from heaven. Seeing the rain gather above, they say it comes down from heaven; but in truth it is from the earth. Yet its coming out of the earth rises in the mountains. How is this made plain? The commentary on the Chunqiu says, "It strikes the rocks and comes out, it joins inch by inch, and before the morning is over it covers all under heaven: only Mount Tai does this."

Mount Tai rains on all under heaven and a small mountain rains on one state, and each makes the difference of near and far by its size. Of the coming of rain out of the mountains, some say that the clouds carry it as they go, and that when the clouds scatter the water falls, and that this is named rain. But cloud is rain and rain is cloud: what first comes out is cloud, and when the cloud thickens it is rain. It is like a heavy mud-dew that wets and stains the clothes and has the look of rain. It is not that the cloud goes along with the rain, that the cloud carries the rain as it goes. Someone says: the Shangshu says, "When the moon follows the stars, there will be wind and rain," and the Shi says, "When the moon clings to Bi, it brings a downpour." Both classics say it; how then can you say that what does it is not heaven? Rain rises from the mountains, and when the moon passes the stars and clings to Bi, at the time of its clinging to Bi it ought to rain. When it does not rain at that time, the moon does not cling and the mountains send up no clouds: heaven and earth, above and below, answer one another of themselves. The moon clings above and the mountain sends up clouds below, and breath and body meet and join, and this is the way of nature. Cloud and mist are the sign of rain; in summer they become dew and in winter frost, and when it is warm they become rain and when it is cold snow. Rain and dew and what freezes and congeals all rise from the earth and do not come down from heaven.