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Once, when a seabird landed outside the capital, the Marquis of Lu escorted it to his ancestral temple, had the music of the Ninefold Splendors performed, poured out a cup of old wine, and spread before it a feast of beef and pork. But the bird became dazed, and it pined away, refusing to taste meat or wine. In three days it was dead.

This was treating the bird as the marquis would have liked to be treated, not as the bird would have liked to be treated. Had he done so, he would have let it roost in the deep forests, play among the islands, swim in the rivers and lakes, feed on mudfish and minnows, fly with the rest of the flock, and live any way it chose to.

The capital of Lu must have been seriously landlocked if this seabird (an albatross perhaps) seemed so exotic. The bird was a sensible creature, and the last thing it wanted was celebrity. The marquis, a famous epicure and an obtusely empathetic fellow, proceeded to kill it with kindness. He chose the best of everything, but the bird was not impressed by the ancient Chinese equivalents of a 1947 Cheval Blanc, a three-star Michelin meal, and the Goldberg Variations. It died pining for its freedom and a couple of fresh fish.

The marquis was not the only person in history who, by acting out the Golden Rule, became the golden fool. Was he repentant afterward? Did he start buttonholing wedding guests and holding them with his glittering eye? In any case, the extravagance of his selfishness removes him from history and inserts him into parable. Any child can tell you that hay is for horses, milk is for cats, and fish is for albatrosses, and that we should let wild animals live any way they choose to. Love your neighbor as yourself: leave him alone.