The superstitious, “bound in to saucy doubts and fears,” degenerate into cowards and “die many times before their deaths.” Tu Mu quotes Huang-shih Kung: 禁巫祝不得爲吏士卜問軍之吉凶恐亂軍士之心 “‘Spells and incantations should be strictly forbidden, and no officer allowed to inquire by divination into the fortunes of an army, for fear the soldier’s minds should be seriously perturbed.’ The meaning is,” he continues, “that if all doubts and scruples are discarded, your men will never falter in their resolution until they die.” The reading of the standard text is 無所之 “there will be no refuge,” which does not fit in well here. I therefore prefer to adopt the variant 災, which evidently stood in Li Ch‘üan’s text. 27. 吾士無餘財非惡貨也無餘命非惡壽也 If our soldiers are not overburdened with money, it is not because they have a distaste for riches; if their lives are not unduly long, it is not because they are disinclined to longevity. Chang Yü has the best note on this passage: 貨與壽人之所愛也所以燒擲 財寳割棄性命者非憎惡之也不得已也 “Wealth and long life are things for which all men have a natural inclination. Hence, if they burn or fling away valuables, and sacrifice their own lives, it is not that they dislike them, but simply that they have no choice.” Sun Tzŭ is slyly insinuating that, as soldiers are but human, it is for the general to see that temptations to shirk fighting and grow rich are not thrown in their way. Capt. Calthrop, mistaking 惡 for the adjective, has: “not because money is a bad thing ... not because long life is evil.” 28. 令發之日士卒坐者涕霑襟偃臥者涕交頤投之無所往者諸劌之勇也 On the day they are ordered out to battle, your soldiers may weep, The word in the Chinese is 涕 “snivel.” This is taken to indicate more genuine grief than tears alone. those sitting up bedewing their garments, and those lying down letting the tears run down their cheeks. Not because they are afraid, but because, as Ts‘ao Kung says, 皆持必死之計 “all have embraced the firm resolution to do or die.” We may remember that the heroes of the Iliad were equally childlike in showing their emotion. Chang Yü alludes to the mournful parting at the 易 I River between 荆軻 Ching K‘o and his friends, when the former was sent to attempt the life of the King of Ch‘in (afterwards First Emperor) in 227 B.C. The tears of all flowed down like rain as he bade them farewell and uttered the following lines: 風蕭蕭兮，易水寒，壯士一去兮，不復還 “The shrill blast is blowing, Chilly the burn; Your champion is going—Not to return.”[179] But let them once be brought to bay, and they will display the courage of a Chu or a Kuei.