VOLUME III, SEMESTER 4, CHAPTER 45, SECTION 1

VOLUME III, SEMESTER 4, CHAPTER 45, SECTION 1

Each Keeps Its Position, Each Keeps Its Bound

The first two chapters set two layers. Coexistence: the four are all there, none can throw out another, none can stand alone to the end, and each must grow whole. Common life: they are not only standing side by side, they feed one another; pull one out and not one of the rest can hold itself apart.

But these two layers set firm, a new trouble follows, and one that shows only at this step: things that feed one another are the most apt to step over the bound and decide for the other. A man who looks after you daily, in time will feel your matters his to manage too. A rule that supplies another rule its grain daily, in time will feel that end should listen to it. So the four together want a third thing, called common dwelling. Common dwelling speaks not of being there, nor of leaning, but of the bound: who handles which matter, and to where each stops.

One, the bound is not a wall, it is each handling its own matter

First make clear the word bound, lest hearing bound one thinks of shutting apart. The four are not four shops with a wall between, each doing its own trade. They pass their days cheek by cheek in the same shop, the same account, one person’s day; none can carry another off, none can dodge another.

The bound spoken of here is the line of the division of work, not a fence of separation. Like in one room, the one who keeps the account, the one who keeps the stock, the one who keeps the machine, the one who keeps the men—each has his own patch. They face each other daily, must gather daily to talk it over, and meeting a matter must lend each other a hand, yet none goes to pound that gavel for another. Dividing the work is not dividing the house; this line the last chapter touched, this section lands it on the matter.

So the two words keep the bound mean, very solidly: not no dealings, but not deciding for the other. Not no helping, but not taking the other’s matter over to do oneself. In one room, let the one who keeps the stock begin to set the appraisal for the one who keeps the men, the one who keeps the account begin to decide for the one who keeps the machine whether to change it, and the room is the same room, the men the same men, none has walked, yet not one matter is done well. Between the four rules, it is the same.

Two, the four rules’ positions, marked clear one at a time

To keep the bound, first know where the bound is. Here mark the four rules’ positions once through, for the chapters to come will use them again and again. The rule that measures what is put in has its position in the stretch with work to do and strength to do it. A man with work in hand and strength in his body, willing to do more and gets more—this stretch belongs to it, the other rules need not reach in. Chapter forty-two said, this stretch in a life is the middle thirty and forty years.

The rule that measures need has its position in the few stretches and few matters where strength cannot be put out. A life’s two ends, the few gaps dropped in the middle, and a few matters that, no matter who did more or less, are not shared by what is put in: the child’s schooling, the seeing of a doctor, the old one’s keep. These matters belong to it, not one to be shared by what is put in.

The rule that measures risk has its position where the thing has no shadow yet, where a stake must be laid first and someone must own the loss. The shop to raise, the machine to add, a thing no one has made to try—these belong to it, and whose the loss is falls in its range too.

The fourth’s position is narrowest, and most to be held clear: it is of use only where a thing truly must be blocked, as men not to be worked like beasts, children not to be put down the shaft, a struck bargain to be owned. Outside these few, it should not walk one step more, and wherever it walks someone must always watch it, and the watcher’s hand loosening, it grows outward. This layer chapter forty said: to the first three the word is cannot be pulled out, to the fourth the word is cannot go unwatched.

Three, how the bound is drawn, still those three ways

Where the bound is is not set by anyone’s one word. The last chapter set three ways at its close, and those three ways are the measuring-rule for drawing the bound, marked once more here, for the chapters to come all use them. The first is by stretch. A life’s three stretches: the two ends to the rule of need, the middle to the rule of labor. This bound lands on the years, which everyone passes through, none can dodge, so it is least quarreled.

The second is by matter. Which matters are not shared by what is put in, written into a list, written plain, so every person can point at it. To add one to this list or take one off is quarreled year by year, and is the place that most should be quarreled in the open, yet the list itself must exist, and cannot be left vague.

The third is by layer. The nearer the place the thicker the need, the further out the thicker the labor. Between a person and his mother no account is kept, within a shop or a village half is kept, between a city and a country it leans on institution and sum after sum paid in.

These three together, and the bound takes shape. What matters is to hold one line: the bound can be talked over, and should be changed year by year. What cannot be talked over is that there must be a bound. Short either of these two lines, trouble comes. Speak only the first and it turns to no bound; speak only the second and it turns to a bound set dead and forbidden to move.

Four, keeping the bound means stepping past it and pulling oneself back

The last chapter said, keeping the house has a bound, standing alone has none. Keeping the bound, said to the bottom, is one line: knowing when oneself should step down. Take a common example from a shop. That chair shop does good business this year, the boss glad, and at year end gives everyone a red packet, more to those with many children at home, more again to those with a sick one at home. This heart is good, none can pick a fault in it, yet this one hand stirs two bounds into one. The wage sheet measures what is put in to begin with; the red packet is a share of heart he gives of his own will. Now given by how many mouths at home, the rule of need follows the packet and reaches into the wage sheet.

The first year all speak his good. The second year business is flat, the packet cannot be given, and those who took more last year have words in their hearts. And that hand who turned out the most stock in a year, with only one at home, took no more in two years. The third year he simply stops giving it, for fear of just this layer. A whole good heart, and it did a thing that blurred the bound.

The way to keep the bound is in truth very plain: the floor-under share walks the floor-under road—health cover, work injury, hardship relief, walked plain and clear. The strength share walks the wage sheet—do how much get how much, not a whit blurred. The two roads each walk their own, neither mixed into the other. This is not against human feeling; it is the very way to let that feeling land, and land year after year, without looking to whether business is good this year.

The reverse example is just as common. Some places, to look generous, share out the wage sheet too by mouths at home, more to the many, less to the few, and call it looking after. The first year no one says much; the second year that hand who turns out the most stock in a day begins to reckon an account: the strength he put out more bought a number the same as another’s. He will not make a scene, he will only slow. This is the sum the reaching of the rule of need into the wage sheet must always pay back.

Five, the one who oversteps is mostly no bad man

This section’s weightiest line is here: the one who oversteps is mostly no bad man, but mostly of good heart, or in a hurry. That boss above is of good heart. The one who reaches the hand of need into the wage sheet mostly cannot bear to see someone near having a hard time. The one who reaches the hand of labor into the sickroom mostly cannot stand someone taking for nothing. The one who reaches the hand of force into the stock coming off is mostly in a hurry to get the matter done fast, done steady. What they think in their hearts is all to get the matter done well, none is to take advantage of anyone, and each can speak a set of words that sounds full of reason.

So good-hearted overstepping is harder to block than ill-hearted overstepping. To block the ill-hearted, one stands on firm ground. To block the good-hearted, the first word out and one looks to have no conscience, looks to count every fraction, looks to be against human feeling. This is where the bound most often gives way: not stormed through by force, but wiped away by someone, of good heart, a little at a time, wiped away with a smile.

See clear this layer, and this chapter can go on. What follows, on the two pits of overstepping, on pulling the hand back, speaks not of what to do about bad men, but of how good men get good things done in the right place.

Six, what this section sets

What this section sets is a line: each keeps its position, each keeps its bound. The bound is not a wall; it is the line of the division of work, and keeping the bound is not no dealings, but not deciding for the other. The four rules’ positions are marked clear: the rule that measures what is put in keeps the stretch with work to do, the rule that measures need keeps the stretches and matters where no strength can be put out, the rule that measures risk keeps the place with no shadow yet that a stake must be laid, and the fourth is of use only in the few places a thing must truly be blocked, and always watched. How the bound is drawn, still by stretch, by matter, by layer. The bound can be talked over and should be changed year by year; what cannot be talked over is that there must be a bound.

The next section looks at the two shapes after the bound gives way. One is the hand reached too long, taking up what is not its to manage. One is the hand pulled back too fast, letting go what is its to manage. The two pits run opposite in direction, yet what falls into them is one and the same matter.

Credit to the ancestors; the mistakes are mine: Tiger Lyon.

Two, The Two Pits of Overstepping: Managing Too Much, Letting Go Too Much