“King Wei of Chʽu , having heard of the ability of Chuang-chou, sent messengers with large gifts to bring him to his court, and promising also that he would make him his chief minister. Chuang-tzŭ, however, only laughed and said to them, ‘A thousand ounces of silver are a great gain to me, and to be a high noble and minister is most honourable position. But have you not seen the victim-ox for the border sacrifice? It is carefully fed for several years, and robed with rich embroidery that it may be fit to enter the Grand Temple. When the time comes for it to do so, it would prefer to be a little pig, but it cannot get to be so. Go away quickly, and do not soil me with your presence. I had rather amuse and enjoy myself in the midst of a filthy ditch than be subject to the rules and restrictions in the court of a sovereign. I have determined never to take office, but prefer the enjoyment of my own free will.’ ”
Chʽien concludes his account of Chuang-tzŭ with the above story, condensed by him, probably, from two of Chuang’s own narratives, in par. 11 of bk. XVII , and 13 of XXXII , to the injury of them both. Paragraph 14 of XXXII brings before us one of the last scenes of Chung-tzŭ’s life, and we may doubt whether it should be received as from his own pencil. It is interesting in itself, however, and I introduce it here: “When Chuang-tzŭ was about to die, his disciples signified their wish to give him a grand burial. ‘I shall have heaven and earth,’ he said, ‘for my coffin and its shell; the sun and moon for my two round symbols of jade; the stars and constellations for my pearls and jewels;—will not the provisions for my interment be complete? What would you add to them?’ The disciples replied, ‘We are afraid that the crows and kites will eat our master.’ Chuang-tzŭ rejoined, ‘Above, the crows and kites will eat me; below, the mole-crickets and ants will eat me; to take from those and give to these would only show your partiality.’ ”