hollow of some broken brick. Swimming, I gather the water under my arms and shut my mouth. I plunge into the mud, burying my feet and toes; and not one of the cockles, crabs, or tadpoles I see around me are my match. [Fancy pitting the happiness of an old well against all the water of Ocean!] Why do you not come, Sir, and pay me a visit?'
"Now the turtle of the eastern sea had not got its left leg down ere its right had already stuck fast, so it shrank back and begged to be excused. It then described the sea, saying, 'A thousand _li_ would not measure its breadth, nor a thousand fathoms its depth. In the days of the Great Yü, there were nine years of flood out of ten; but this did not add to its bulk. In the days of T'ang, there were seven years out of eight of drought; but this did not narrow its span. Not to be affected by duration of time, not to be affected by volume of water,--such is the great happiness of the eastern sea.'
To be impervious to external influences.
"At this the well-frog was considerably astonished, and knew not what to say next. And for one whose knowledge does not reach to the positive-negative domain, Where contraries are identical.
to attempt to understand Chuang Tzŭ, is like a mosquito trying to carry a mountain, or an ant to swim a river,--they cannot succeed. And for one whose knowledge does not reach to the abstrusest of the abstruse, but is based only upon such victories as you have enumerated,--is not he like the frog in the well?
"Chuang Tzŭ moves in the realms below while soaring to heaven above.
For him north and south do not exist; the four points are gone; he is engulphed in the unfathomable. For him east and west do not exist.
Beginning with chaos, he has gone back to TAO; and yet you think you are going to examine his doctrines and meet them with argument! This is like looking at the sky through a tube, or pointing at the earth with an awl,--a small result.
The area covered by an awl's point being infinitesimal.
"Have you never heard how the youth of Shou-ling went to study at Han-tan? They did not learn what they wanted at Han-tan, and forgot all they knew before into the bargain, so that they returned home in disgrace. And you, if you do not go away, you will forget all you know, and waste your time into the bargain."
Kung Sun Lung's jaw dropped; his tongue clave to his palate; and he slunk away.
Another spurious episode, as is evident from its general weakness, not to mention repetitions of figures and allusions taken from other chapters.
Chuang Tzŭ was fishing in the P'u when the prince of Ch'u sent two high officials to ask him to take charge of the administration of the Ch'u State.
Chuang Tzŭ went on fishing, and without turning his head said, "I have heard that in Ch'u there is a sacred tortoise which has been dead now some three thousand years. And that the prince keeps this tortoise carefully enclosed in a chest on the altar of his ancestral temple. Now would this tortoise rather be dead and have its remains venerated, or be alive and wagging its tail in the mud?"
"It would rather be alive," replied the two officials, "and wagging its tail in the mud."
"Begone!" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "I too will wag my tail in the mud."
* * * * * Hui Tzŭ was prime minister in the Liang State. Chuang Tzŭ went thither to visit him.
Some one remarked, "Chuang Tzŭ has come. He wants to be minister in your place."
Thereupon Hui Tzŭ was afraid, and searched all over the State With warrants.
for three days and three nights to find him.
Then Chuang Tzŭ went to see Hui Tzŭ, and said, "In the south there is a bird. It is a kind of phœnix. Do you know it? It started from the south sea to fly to the north sea. Except on the _wu-t'ung_ tree, it would not alight. It would eat nothing but the fruit of the bamboo, drink nothing but the purest spring water. An owl which had got the rotten carcass of a rat, looked up as the phœnix flew by, and screeched.
To warn it off.
Are you not screeching at me over your kingdom of Liang?"
* * * * * Chuang Tzŭ and Hui Tzŭ had strolled on to the bridge over the Hao, when the former observed, "See how the minnows are darting about! That is the pleasure of fishes."
"You not being a fish yourself," said Hui Tzŭ, "how can you possibly know in what consists the pleasure of fishes?"
"And you not being I," retorted Chuang Tzŭ, "how can you know that I do not know?"
"If I, not being you, cannot know what you know," urged Hui Tzŭ, "it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know in what consists the pleasure of fishes."
"Let us go back," said Chuang Tzŭ, "to your original question. You asked me how I knew in what consists the pleasure of fishes. Your very question shows that you knew I knew.
For you asked me _how_ I _knew_.
I knew it from my own feelings on this bridge."
From my own feelings above the bridge I infer those of the fishes below.
CHAPTER XVIII.
PERFECT HAPPINESS.
_Argument_:--The uncertainty of human happiness--What the world aims at is physical well-being--This is not profitable even to the body--In inaction alone is true happiness to be found--Inaction the rule of the material universe--Acquiescence in whatever our destiny may bring [This chapter is supplementary to chapter vi.]
Is perfect happiness to be found on earth, or not? Are there those who can enjoy life, or not? If so, what do they do, what do they affect, what do they avoid, what do they rest in, accept, reject, like, and dislike?
What the world esteems comprises wealth, rank, old age, and goodness of heart. What it enjoys comprises comfort, rich food, fine clothes, beauty, and music. What it does not esteem comprises poverty, want of position, early death, and evil behaviour. What it does not enjoy comprises lack of comfort for the body, lack of rich food for the palate, lack of fine clothes for the back, lack of beauty for the eye, and lack of music for the ear. If men do not get these, they are greatly miserable. Yet from the point of view of our physical frame, this is folly.
Physically we can, and most of us do, get along very well without these extras.
Wealthy people who toil and moil, putting together more money than they can possibly use,--from the point of view of our physical frame, is not this going beyond the mark?
Officials of rank who turn night into day in their endeavours to compass the best ends;--from the point of view of our physical frame, is not this a divergence?
Man is born to sorrow, and what misery is theirs whose old age with dulled faculties only means prolonged sorrow! From the point of view of our physical frame, this is going far astray.
Patriots are in the world's opinion admittedly good. Yet their goodness does not enable them to enjoy life; Patriotism has been illustrated in China by countless heroic deeds, associated always with the death of the hero concerned.
and so I know not whether theirs is veritable goodness or not. If the former, it does not enable them to enjoy life; if the latter, it at any rate enables them to cause others to enjoy theirs.
It has been said, "If your loyal counsels are not attended to, depart quietly without resistance." Thus, when Tzŭ Hsü The famous Wu Yüan, 6th century B.C., whose opposition to his sovereign led to his own disgrace and death.
resisted, his physical frame perished; yet had he not resisted, he would not have made his name. Is there then really such a thing as this goodness, or not?
As to what the world does and the way in which people are happy now, I know not whether such happiness be real happiness or not. The happiness of ordinary persons seems to me to consist in slavishly following the majority, as if they could not help it. Yet they all say they are happy.
"The general average of mankind are not only moderate in intellect, but also in inclinations: they have no tastes or wishes strong enough to incline them to do anything unusual." Mill's _Essay on Liberty_.
But I cannot say that this is happiness or that it is not happiness. Is there then, after all, such a thing as happiness?
I make true pleasure to consist in _inaction_, which the world regards as great pain. Thus it has been said, "Perfect happiness is the absence of happiness; The non-existence of any state or condition necessarily includes the non-existence of its correlate. If we do not have happiness, we are at once exempt from misery; and such a negative state is a state of "perfect happiness."
perfect renown is the absence of renown."
Now in this sublunary world of ours it is impossible to assign positive and negative absolutely. Nevertheless, in inaction they can be so assigned. Perfect happiness and preservation of life are to be sought for only in inaction.
Let us consider. Heaven does nothing; yet it is clear. Earth does nothing; yet it enjoys repose. From the inaction of these two proceed all the modifications of things. How vast, how infinite is inaction, yet without source! How infinite, how vast, yet without form!
The endless varieties of things around us all spring from inaction.
Therefore it has been said, "Heaven and earth do nothing, yet there is nothing which they do not accomplish." But among men, who can attain to inaction?
Lin Hsi Chung condemns the whole of the above exordium as too closely reasoned for Chuang Tzŭ, with his rugged, elliptical style.
When Chuang Tzŭ's wife died, Hui Tzŭ went to condole. He found the widower sitting on the ground, singing, with his legs spread out at a right angle, and beating time on a bowl.
"To live with your wife," exclaimed Hui Tzŭ, "and see your eldest son grow up to be a man, and then not to shed a tear over her corpse,--this would be bad enough. But to drum on a bowl, and sing; surely this is going too far."
"Not at all," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "When she died, I could not help being affected by her death. Soon, however, I remembered that she had already existed in a previous state before birth, without form, or even substance; that while in that unconditioned condition, substance was added to spirit; that this substance then assumed form; and that the next stage was birth. And now, by virtue of a further change, she is dead, passing from one phase to another like the sequence of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. And while she is thus lying asleep in Eternity, for me to go about weeping and wailing would be to proclaim myself ignorant of these natural laws. Therefore I refrain."
* * * * * A hunchback and a one-legged man were looking at the tombs of departed heroes, on the K'un-lun Mountains, where the Yellow Emperor rests.
Suddenly, ulcers broke out upon their left elbows, of a very loathsome description.
"Do you loathe this?" asked the hunchback.
"Not I," replied the other, "why should I? Life is a loan with which the borrower does but add more dust and dirt to the sum total of existence. Life and death are as day and night; and while you and I stand gazing at the evidences of mortality around us, if the same mortality overtakes me, why should I loathe it?"
* * * * * Chuang Tzŭ one day saw an empty skull, bleached, but still preserving its shape. Striking it with his riding whip, he said, "Wert thou once some ambitious citizen whose inordinate yearnings brought him to this pass?--some statesman who plunged his country in ruin and perished in the fray?--some wretch who left behind him a legacy of shame?--some beggar who died in the pangs of hunger and cold? Or didst thou reach this state by the natural course of old age?"
When he had finished speaking, he took the skull, and placing it under his head as a pillow, went to sleep. In the night, he dreamt that the skull appeared to him and said, "You speak well, Sir; but all you say has reference to the life of mortals, and to mortal troubles. In death there are none of these. Would you like to hear about death?"
Chuang Tzŭ having replied in the affirmative, the skull began:--"In death, there is no sovereign above, and no subject below. The workings of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bounded only by eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed that which we enjoy."
Chuang Tzŭ, however, was not convinced, and said, "Were I to prevail upon God to allow your body to be born again, and your bones and flesh to be renewed, so that you could return to your parents, to your wife, and to the friends of your youth,--would you be willing?"
At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and knitted its brows and said, "How should I cast aside happiness greater than that of a king, and mingle once again in the toils and troubles of mortality?"
Reminding us strangely of _Hamlet_.
When Yen Yüan See p. 179.
went eastwards to the Ch'i State, Confucius was sad. Tzŭ Kung arose and said, "Is it, Sir, because Hui Yen Yüan's personal name.
has gone east to Ch'i that you are sad?"
"A good question," replied Confucius. "There is a saying by Kuan Chung Prime Minister to Duke Huan of the Ch'i State, 7th century B.C.
of old which I highly esteem: 'Small bags won't hold big things; short ropes won't reach down deep wells.' Thus, destiny is a pre-arrangement, just as form has its limitations. From neither, to neither, can you either take away or add. And I fear lest Hui, on his visit to the prince of Ch'i, should preach the Tao of Yao and Shun, and dwell on the words of Sui Jen and Shên Nung. The prince will then search within himself, but will not find. And not finding, he will doubt. And when a man doubts, he will kill.
_Lit._ "he will die." But the verb "to die" is often used in the sense of "to make to die;" and this seems to be the only available sense here.
"Besides, have you not heard that of old when a sea-bird alighted outside the capital of Lu, the prince went out to receive it, and gave it wine in the temple, and had the _Chiu Shao_ Music composed by the legendary Emperor Shun.
played to amuse it, and a bullock slaughtered to feed it? But the bird was dazed and too timid to eat or drink anything; and in three days it was dead. This was treating the bird like oneself, and not as a bird would treat a bird. Had he treated it as a bird would have treated a bird, he would have put it to roost in a deep forest, to wander over a plain, to swim in a river or lake, to feed upon fish, to fly in order, and to settle leisurely. When the bird was already terrified at human voices, fancy adding music! Play the _Hsien Ch'ih_ Music of the Yellow Emperor.
or the _Chiu Shao_ in the wilds of Tung-t'ing, and birds will fly away, beasts will take themselves off, and fishes will dive down below. But men will collect to hear.
See p. 244.
"Water, which is life to fishes, is death to man. Being differently constituted, their likes and dislikes are different. Therefore the Sages of the past favoured not uniformity of skill or of occupation.
Reputation was commensurate with reality; means were adapted to the end. This was called a due relationship with others coupled with advantage to oneself."
Several sentences of the above are clearly in imitation of parts of ch. ii. The whole episode is beyond doubt a forgery.
* * * * * Lieh Tzŭ, being on a journey, was eating by the roadside, when he saw an old skull. Plucking a blade of grass, he pointed at it and said, "Only you and I know that there is no such thing as life and no such thing as death.
_Lit._ "that you have never died nor lived."
Are you really at peace? Or am I really happy?
Who can say whether what we call death may not after all be life, and life death?
"Certain germs, falling upon water, become duckweed. When they reach the junction of the land and the water, they become lichen. Spreading up the bank, they become the dog-tooth violet. Reaching rich soil, they become _wu-tsu_, the root of which becomes grubs, while the leaves comes from butterflies, or _hsü_. These are changed into insects, born in the chimney corner, which look like skeletons. Their name is _ch'ü-to_. After a thousand days, the _ch'ü-to_ becomes a bird, called _Kan-yü-ku_, the spittle of which becomes the _ssŭ-mi_. The _ssŭ-mi_ becomes a wine fly, and that comes from an _i-lu_. The _huang-k'uang_ produces the _chiu-yu_ and the _mou-jui_ produces the glow-worm.
The _yang-ch'i_ grafted to an old bamboo which has for a long time put forth no shoots, produces the _ch'ing-ning_, which produces the leopard, which produces the horse, which produces man.
"Then man goes back into the great Scheme, from which all things come and to which all things return."
Such is the eternal round, marked by the stages which we call life and death.
Many of the names in the above paragraph have not been identified even by Chinese commentators. On all counts then they may safely be left where they are.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE SECRET OF LIFE.
_Argument_:--The soul is from God--Man's body its vehicle--The soul quickening the body is life--Care of the internal and of the external must be simultaneous--In due nourishment of both is TAO.
[This chapter is supplementary to chapter iii.]
Those who understand the conditions of life devote no attention to things which life cannot accomplish. Those who understand the conditions of destiny devote no attention to things over which knowledge has no control.
For the due nourishment of our physical frames, certain things are needful. Yet where such things abound, the physical frame is not always nourished. For the preservation of life it is necessary that there should be no abandonment of the physical frame. Yet where the physical frame is not abandoned, life does not always remain.
Life comes, and cannot be declined. It goes, and cannot be stopped.
But alas! the world thinks that to nourish the frame is enough to keep life. And if indeed it is not enough, what then is the world to do?
Although not enough, it must still be done. It cannot be neglected. For if one is to neglect the physical frame, better far to retire at once from the world. By renouncing the world, one gets rid of the cares of the world. The result is a natural level, which is equivalent to a re-birth. And he who is re-born is near.
To TAO.
But what inducement is there to renounce the affairs of men, to become indifferent to life?--In the first case, the physical body suffers no wear and tear; in the second, the vitality is left unharmed. And he whose physical frame is perfect and whose vitality is in its original purity,--he is one with God.
Mens sana in corpore sano.
Heaven and earth are the father and mother of all things. When they unite, the result is shape. When they disperse, the original condition is renewed.
As in the case of ordinary mortals.
But if body and vitality are both perfect, this state is called _fit for translation_.
In the Biblical sense, as applied to Enoch.
Such perfection of vitality goes back to the minister of God.
"Vitality" is the subtle essence, the immaterial informing principle which, united with matter, exhibits the phenomenon of life. The term has already occurred in ch. xi.
* * * * * Lieh Tzŭ asked Kuan Yin, A sage who by some is said to have flourished five or six hundred years before Lieh Tzŭ; by others, to have been an immediate disciple of Lao Tzŭ, and to have been entrusted by him with the publication of the _Tao-Tê-Ching_.
saying, "The perfect man can walk through solid bodies without obstruction. He can pass through fire without being burnt. He can scale the highest heights without fear. How does he bring himself to this?"
"It is because he is in a condition of absolute purity," replied Kuan Yin. "It is not cunning which enables him to dare such feats. Be seated, and I will tell you.
"All that has form, sound, and colour, may be classed under the head _thing_. Man differs so much from the rest, and stands at the head of all things, simply because the latter are but what they appear and nothing more. But man can attain to formlessness and vanquish death.
And with that which is in possession of the eternal, how can mere things compare?
"Man may rest in the eternal fitness; he may abide in the everlasting; and roam from the beginning to the end of all creation. He may bring his nature to a condition of ONE; he may nourish his strength; he may harmonize his virtue, and so put himself into partnership with God.
Then, when his divinity is thus assured, and his spirit closed in on all sides, how can anything find a passage within?
He is beyond the reach of objective existences.
"A drunken man who falls out of a cart, though he may suffer, does not die. His bones are the same as other people's; but he meets his accident in a different way. His spirit is in a condition of security.
He is not conscious of riding in the cart; neither is he conscious of falling out of it. Ideas of life, death, fear, etc., cannot penetrate his breast; and so he does not suffer from contact with objective existences. And if such security is to be got from wine, how much more is it to be got from God. It is in God that the Sage seeks his refuge, and so he is free from harm.
"An avenger does not snap in twain the murderous weapon; neither does the most spiteful man carry his resentment to a tile which may have hit him on the head. And by the extension of this principle, the empire would be at peace; no more confusion of war, no more punishment of death.
"Do not develop your artificial intelligence, but develop that intelligence which is from God. From the latter, results virtue; from the former, cunning. And those who do not shrink from the natural, nor wallow in the artificial,--they are near to perfection."
* * * * * When Confucius was on his way to the Ch'u State, he came to a forest where he saw a hunchback catching cicadas as though with his hand.
It is still the delight of the Chinese _gamin_ to capture the noisy "scissor-grinder" with the aid of a long bamboo tipped with bird-lime.
"How clever you are!" cried Confucius. "Have you any _way_ of doing this?"
"Way," _i.e._ road, is the primary meaning of TAO.
"I have a way," replied the hunchback. "In the fifth and sixth moons I practise balancing two balls one on top of the other.
At the top of his pole.
If they do not fall, I do not miss many cicadas. When I can balance three balls, I only miss one in ten; and when five, then it is as though I caught the cicadas with my hand. My body is as motionless as the stump of a tree; my arms like dead branches. Heaven and earth and all creation may be around me, but I am conscious only of my cicada's wings. How should I not succeed?"
Confucius looked round at his disciples and said, "Singleness of purpose induces concentration of the faculties. Of such is the success of this hunchback."
* * * * * Yen Yüan said to Confucius, "When I crossed over the Shang-shên rapid, the boatman managed his craft with marvellous skill. I asked him if handling a boat could be learnt. 'It can,' replied he. 'The way of those who know how to keep you afloat is more like sinking you. They row as if the boat wasn't there.'
"I enquired what this meant, but he would not tell me. May I ask its signification."
"It means," answered Confucius, "that such a man is oblivious of the water around him. He regards the rapid as though dry land. He looks upon an upset as an ordinary cart accident. And if a man can but be impervious to capsizings and accidents in general, whither should he not be able comfortably to go?
"A man who plays for counters will play well. If he stakes his girdle, In which he keeps his loose cash.
he will be nervous; if yellow gold, he will lose his wits. His skill is the same in each case, but he is distracted by the value of his stake. And every one who attaches importance to the external, becomes internally without resource."
* * * * * T'ien K'ai Chih had an audience of Duke Wei of Chou. The Duke asked him, saying, "I have heard that Chu Hsien is studying the art of life.
As you are a companion of his, pray tell me anything you know about it."
"I do but ply the broom at his outer gate," replied T'ien K'ai Chih; "what should I know about my Master's researches?"
"Don't be so modest," said the Duke. "I am very anxious to hear about it."
"Well," replied T'ien, "I have heard my master say that keeping life is like keeping a flock of sheep. You look out for the laggards, and whip them up."
"What does that mean?" asked the Duke.
"In the State of Lu," said T'ien, "there was a man named Shan Pao. He lived on the mountains and drank water. All worldly interests he had put aside. And at the age of seventy, his complexion was like that of a child. Unluckily, he one day fell in with a hungry tiger who killed and ate him.
"There was also a man named Chang I, who frequented the houses of rich and poor alike. At the age of forty he was attacked by some internal disease and died.
"Shan Pao took care of his inner self, and a tiger ate his external man. Chang I took care of himself externally, but disease attacked him internally. These two individuals both omitted to whip up the laggards."
There is no particular record of the worthies mentioned above.
Confucius said, "Neither affecting obscurity, nor courting prominence, but unconsciously occupying the happy mean,--he who can attain to these three will enjoy a surpassing fame.
"In dangerous parts, where one wayfarer out of ten meets his death, fathers and sons and brothers will counsel each other not to travel without a sufficient escort. Is not this wisdom? And there where men are also greatly in danger, in the lists of passion, in the banquet hour, not to warn them is error indeed."
Physical precautions are not alone sufficient. Man's moral nature equally requires constant watchfulness and care.
The Grand Augur, in his ceremonial robes, approached the shambles and thus addressed the pigs:-- "How can you object to die? I shall fatten you for three months. I shall discipline myself for ten days and fast for three. I shall strew fine grass, and place you bodily upon a carved sacrificial dish. Does not this satisfy you?"
Then speaking from the pigs' point of view, he continued, "It is better perhaps after all to live on bran and escape the shambles..."
"But then," added he, speaking from his own point of view, "to enjoy honour when alive one would readily die on a war-shield or in the headsman's basket."
So he rejected the pigs' point of view and adopted his own point of view. In what sense then was he different from the pigs?
Even as a pig thinks of nothing but eating, so was the Grand Augur ready to sacrifice everything, life itself, for paltry fame.
* * * * * When Duke Huan was out hunting, with Kuan Chung as his charioteer, he saw a bogy. Catching hold of Kuan Chung's hand, he asked him, saying, "What do you see?"
"I see nothing," replied Kuan Chung. But when the Duke got home he became delirious, and for many days was unable to go out.
There came a certain Huang Tzŭ Kao Ngao of the Ch'i State "A sage of the Ch'i State,"--as the commentators usually say when in reality they know nothing about the individual.
and said, "Your Highness is self-injured. How could a bogy injure you?
When the vital strength is dissipated in anger, and is not renewed, there is a deficiency. When its tendency is in one direction upwards, the result is to incline men to wrath. When its tendency is in one direction downwards, the result is loss of memory. When it remains stagnant, in the middle of the body, the result is disease."
"Very well," said the Duke, "but are there such things as bogies?"
"There are," replied Huang. "There is the mud spirit Li; the fire spirit Kao; Lei T'ing, the spirit of the dust-bin; P'ei O and Wa Lung, sprites of the north-east; Yi Yang of the north-west; Wang Hsiang of the water; the Hsin of the hills; the K'uei of the mountain; the P'ang Huang of the moor; the Wei I of the marsh."
The garb and bearing of the above beings are very fully described by commentators.
"And what may the Wei I be like?" asked the Duke.
"The Wei I," replied Huang, "is as broad as a cart-wheel and as long as the shaft. It wears purple clothes and a red cap. It is a sentient being, and whenever it hears the rumble of thunder, it stands up in a respectful attitude. Those who see this bogy are like to be chieftains among men."
The Duke laughed exultingly and said, "The very one I saw!" Thereupon he dressed himself and sat up; and ere the day had closed, without knowing it, his sickness had left him.
The above episode teaches that the evils which appear to come upon us from without, in reality have their origin within.
* * * * * Chi Hsing Tzŭ was training fighting cocks for the prince.
Of Ch'i, says a commentator.
At the end of ten days the latter asked if they were ready. "Not yet," replied Chi; "they are in the stage of seeking fiercely for a foe."
Again ten days elapsed, and the prince made a further enquiry. "Not yet," replied Chi; "they are still excited by the sounds and shadows of other cocks."
Ten days more, and the prince asked again. "Not yet," answered Chi; "the sight of an enemy is still enough to excite them to rage."
But after another ten days, when the prince again enquired, Chi said, "They will do. Other cocks may crow, but they will take no notice. To look at them one might say they were of wood. Their virtue is complete.
Strange cocks will not dare meet them, but will run."
Illustrating the value of internal concentration.
* * * * * Confucius was looking at the cataract at Lü-liang. It fell from a height of thirty _jen_, 1 _jen_ = 7 Chinese feet. What the ancient Chinese foot measured, it is impossible to say. For the height of the cataract it will be near enough to say 200 English feet.
and its foam reached forty _li_ away. No scaly, finny creature could enter therein.
Meaning the rapids below.
Yet Confucius saw an old man go in, and thinking that he was suffering from some trouble and desirous of ending his life, bade a disciple run along the side to try and save him. The old man emerged about a hundred paces off, and with flowing hair went carolling along the bank. Confucius followed him and said, "I had thought, Sir, you were a spirit, but now I see you are a man. Kindly tell me, is there any way to deal thus with water?"
"No," replied the old man; "I have no way. There was my original condition to begin with; then habit growing into nature; and lastly acquiescence in destiny. Plunging in with the whirl, I come out with the swirl. I accommodate myself to the water, not the water to me. And so I am able to deal with it after this fashion."
"What do you mean," enquired Confucius, "by your original condition to begin with, habit growing into nature, and acquiescence in destiny?"
"I was born," replied the old man, "upon dry land, and accommodated myself to dry land. That was my original condition. Growing up on the water, I accommodated myself to the water. That was what I meant by nature.
Habit is second nature.
And doing as I did without being conscious of any effort so to do, that was what I meant by destiny."
Objective existences cannot injure him who puts his trust in God.
[This episode occurs _twice_, with textual differences, in the works of Lieh Tzŭ, chs. ii. and viii.]
* * * * * Ch'ing, the chief carpenter, Of the Lu State.
was carving wood into a stand for hanging musical instruments.
When finished, the work appeared to those who saw it as though of supernatural execution. And the prince of Lu asked him, saying, "What mystery is there in your art?"
"No mystery, your Highness," replied Ch'ing; "and yet there is something.
"When I am about to make such a stand, I guard against any diminution of my vital power. I first reduce my mind to absolute quiescence. Three days in this condition, and I become oblivious of any reward to be gained. Five days, and I become oblivious of any fame to be acquired.
Seven days, and I become unconscious of my four limbs and my physical frame. Then, with no thought of the Court present to my mind, my skill becomes concentrated, and all disturbing elements from without are gone. I enter some mountain forest. I search for a suitable tree. It contains the form required, which is afterwards elaborated. I see the stand in my mind's eye, and then set to work. Otherwise, there is nothing. I bring my own natural capacity into relation with that of the wood. What was suspected to be of supernatural execution in my work was due solely to this."
To obliteration of self in the infinite causality of God.
Tung Yeh Chi exhibited his charioteering skill before Duke Chuang.
"Of Lu," says one commentator. But another points out that Yen Ho (_infra_) is mentioned in chapter iv. as tutor to the son of Duke Ling of Wei, which would involve an anachronism.
Backwards and forwards he drove in lines which might have been ruled, sweeping round at each end in curves which might have been described by compasses.
The Duke, however, said that this was nothing more than weaving; and bidding him drive round and round a hundred times, returned home.
Yen Ho came upon him, and then went in and said to the Duke, "Chi's horses are on the point of breaking down."
The Duke remained silent, making no reply; and in a short time it was announced that the horses had actually broken down, and that Chi had gone away.
"How could you tell this?" said the Duke to Yen Ho.
"Because," replied the latter, "Chi was trying to make his horses perform a task to which they were unequal. Therefore I said they would break down."
Illustrating the strain which mortality daily puts upon the bodies and minds of all men.
* * * * * Ch'ui the artisan could draw circles with his hand better than with compasses. His fingers seemed to accommodate themselves so naturally to the thing he was working at, that it was unnecessary to fix his attention. His mental faculties thus remained ONE, and suffered no hindrance.
To be unconscious of one's feet implies that the shoes are easy.
To be unconscious of a waist implies that the girdle is easy. The intelligence being unconscious of positive and negative implies that the heart is at ease. No modifications within, no yielding to influences without, But always following a natural course.
--this is ease under all conditions. And he who beginning with ease, is never not at ease, is unconscious of the ease of ease.
Such is the condition of oblivion necessary to the due development of our natural spontaneity.
* * * * * A certain Sun Hsiu went to the house of Pien Ch'ing Tzŭ Both unknown to fame.
and complained, saying, "In peace I am not considered wanting in propriety. In times of trouble I am not considered wanting in courage.
Yet my crops fail; and officially I am not a success. From my village