allegiance to his sovereign is duty. Beneath the canopy of heaven there is no place to which he can escape from it. These two sources of safety may be explained as follows. To serve one's parents without reference to _place_ but only to the service, is the acme of filial piety. To serve one's prince without reference to the _act_ but only to the service, is the perfection of a subject's loyalty. To serve one's own heart so as to permit neither joy nor sorrow within, but to cultivate resignation to the inevitable,--this is the climax of Virtue.
"Now a minister often finds himself in circumstances over which he has no control. But if he simply confines himself to his work, and is utterly oblivious of self, what leisure has he for loving life or hating death? And so you may safely go.
"But I have yet more to tell you. All intercourse, if personal, should be characterised by sincerity. If from a distance, it should be carried on in loyal terms. These terms will have to be transmitted by some one.
Now the transmission of messages of good- or ill-will is the hardest thing possible. Messages of good-will are sure to be overdone with fine phrases; messages of ill-will with harsh ones. In each case the result is exaggeration, and a consequent failure to carry conviction, for which the envoy suffers. Therefore it was said in the _Fa-yen_, Name of an ancient book.
'Confine yourself to simple statements of fact, shorn of all superfluous expression of feeling, and your risk will be small.'
"In trials of skill, at first all is friendliness; but at last it is all antagonism. Skill is pushed too far. So on festive occasions, the drinking which is in the beginning orderly enough, degenerates into riot and disorder. Festivity is pushed too far. It is in fact the same with all things: they begin with good faith and end with contempt. From small beginnings come great endings.
"Speech is like wind to wave. Action is liable to divergence from its true goal. By wind, waves are easily excited. Divergence from the true goal is fraught with danger. Thus angry feelings rise up without a cause. Specious words and dishonest arguments follow, as the wild random cries of an animal at the point of death. Both sides give way to passion. For where one party drives the other too much into a corner, resistance will always be provoked without apparent cause. And if the cause is not apparent, how much less will the ultimate effect be so?
"Therefore it is said in the _Fa-yen_, 'Neither deviate from nor travel beyond your instructions.
"Travel beyond your instructions," is literally, "urge a settlement."
To pass the limit is to go to excess.'
"To deviate from, or to travel beyond instructions, may imperil the negotiation. A settlement to be successful must be lasting. It is too late to change an evil settlement once made.
"Therefore let yourself be carried along without fear, taking refuge in _no alternative_ to preserve you from harm on either side. This is the utmost you can do. What need for considering your obligations? Better leave all to Destiny, difficult as this may be."
It is passing strange that this exposition of the _laissez-aller_ inaction doctrine of TAO should be placed in the mouth of Confucius, who is thus made in some measure to discredit his own teachings. The commentators, however, see nothing anomalous in the position here assigned to the Sage.
Yen Ho A philosopher from the Lu State.
was about to become tutor to the eldest son of Prince Ling of the Wei State. Accordingly he observed to Chü Poh Yü, Prime Minister of the Wei State.
"Here is a man whose disposition is naturally of a low order. To let him take his own unprincipled way is to endanger the State. To try to restrain him is to endanger one's personal safety. He has just wit enough to see faults in others, but not to see his own. I am consequently at a loss what to do."
"A good question indeed," replied Chü Poh Yü, "You must be careful, and begin by self-reformation. Outwardly you may adapt yourself, but inwardly you must keep up to your own standard. In this there are two points to be guarded against. You must not let the outward adaptation penetrate within, nor the inward standard manifest itself without.
In the former case, you will fall, you will be obliterated, you will collapse, you will lie prostrate. In the latter case, you will be a sound, a name, a bogie, an uncanny thing. If he would play the child, do you play the child too. If he cast aside all sense of decorum, do you do so too. As far as he goes, do you go also. Thus you will reach him without offending him.
"Don't you know the story of the praying mantis? In its rage it stretched out its arms to prevent a chariot from passing, unaware that this was beyond its strength, so admirable was its energy! Be cautious. If you are always offending others by your superiority, you will probably come to grief.
"Do you not know that those who keep tigers do not venture to give them live animals as food, for fear of exciting their fury when killing the prey? Also, that whole animals are not given, for fear of exciting the tigers' fury when rending them? The periods of hunger and repletion are carefully watched in order to prevent such outbursts. The tiger is of a different species from man; but the latter too is manageable if properly managed, unmanageable if excited to fury.
"Those who are fond of horses surround them with various conveniences.
Sometimes mosquitoes or flies trouble them; and then, unexpectedly to the animal, a groom will brush them off, the result being that the horse breaks his bridle, and hurts his head and chest. The intention is good, but there is a want of real care for the horse. Against this you must be on your guard."
* * * * * A certain artisan was travelling to the Ch'i State. On reaching Ch'ü-yüan, he saw a sacred _li_ tree, A worthless species of oak.
large enough to hide an ox behind it, a hundred spans in girth, towering up ten cubits over the hill top, and carrying behind it branches, many tens of the smallest of which were of a size for boats.
Crowds stood gazing at it, but our artisan took no notice, and went on his way without even casting a look behind. His apprentice however gazed his fill, and when he caught up his master, said, "Ever since I have handled an adze in your service, I have never seen such a splendid piece of timber as that. How was it that you, sir, did not care to stop and look at it?"
"It's not worth talking about," replied his master. "It's good for nothing. Make a boat of it,--'twould sink. A coffin,--'twould rot.
Furniture,--'twould soon break down. A door,--'twould sweat. A pillar,--'twould be worm-eaten. It is wood of no quality, and of no use. That is why it has attained its present age."
When the artisan reached home, he dreamt that the tree appeared to him in a dream and spoke as follows:--"What is it that you compare me with? Is it with the more elegant trees?--The cherry-apple, the pear, the orange, the pumelo, and other fruit-bearers, as soon as their fruit ripens are stripped and treated with indignity. The great boughs are snapped off, the small ones scattered abroad. Thus do these trees by their own value injure their own lives. They cannot fulfil their allotted span of years, but perish prematurely in mid-career from their entanglement with the world around them. Thus it is with all things. For a long period my aim was to be useless. Many times I was in danger, but at length I succeeded, and so became useful as I am to-day.
But had I then been of use, I should not now be of the great use I am. Moreover, you and I belong both to the same category of things.
Have done then with this criticism of others. Is a good-for-nothing fellow whose dangers are not yet passed a fit person to talk of a good-for-nothing tree?"
When our artisan awaked and told his dream, his apprentice said, "If the tree aimed at uselessness, how was it that it became a sacred tree?"
Which of course may be said to be of use.
"What you don't understand," replied his master, "don't talk about.
That was merely to escape from the attacks of its enemies. Had it not become sacred, how many would have wanted to cut it down! The means of safety adopted were different from ordinary means, In order to reach the somewhat extraordinary goal of uselessness.
and to test these by ordinary canons leaves one far wide of the mark."
* * * * * Tzŭ Ch'i of Nan-poh Said to be identical with the individual mentioned at the beginning of ch. ii.
was travelling on the Shang mountain when he saw a large tree which astonished him very much. A thousand chariot teams could have found shelter under its shade.
"What tree is this?" cried Tzŭ Ch'i. "Surely it must have unusually fine timber." Then looking up, he saw that its branches were too crooked for rafters; while as to the trunk he saw that its irregular grain made it valueless for coffins. He tasted a leaf, but it took the skin off his lips; and its odour was so strong that it would make a man as it were drunk for three days together.
"Ah!" said Tzŭ Ch'i. "This tree is good for nothing, and that is how it has attained this size. A wise man might well follow its example."
And so escape danger from his surroundings.
In the State of Sung there is a place called Ching-shih, where thrive the beech, the cedar, and the mulberry. Such as are of a one-handed span or so in girth are cut down for monkey-cages. Those of two or three two-handed spans are cut down for the beams of fine houses. Those of seven or eight such spans are cut down for the solid sides of rich men's coffins.
To this day, the very best kinds of wood are still reserved for the "planks of old age."
Thus they do not fulfil their allotted span of years, but perish in mid-career beneath the axe. Such is the misfortune which overtakes worth.
For the sacrifices to the River God, neither bulls with white cheeks, nor pigs with large snouts, nor men suffering from piles, were allowed to be used. This had been revealed to the soothsayers, and these characteristics were consequently regarded as inauspicious. The wise, however, would regard them as extremely auspicious.
Readers of _Don Juan_ will recollect how the master's mate had reason to share his view.
There was a hunchback named Su. His jaws touched his navel. His shoulders were higher than his head. His hair knot looked up to the sky. His viscera were upside down. His buttocks were where his ribs should have been. By tailoring, or washing, he was easily able to earn his living. By sifting rice he could make enough to support a family of ten.
In all of which occupations a man would necessarily stoop.
When orders came down for a conscription, the hunchback stood unconcerned among the crowd. And similarly, in matters of public works, his deformity shielded him from being employed.
On the other hand, when it came to donations of grain, the hunchback received as much as three _chung_, An ancient measure of uncertain capacity.
and of firewood, ten faggots. And if physical deformity was thus enough to preserve his body until its allotted end, how much more would not moral and mental deformity avail!
A moral and mental deviation would be still more likely to condemn a man to that neglect from his fellows which is so conducive to our real welfare.
When Confucius was in the Ch'u State, the eccentric Chieh Yü passed his door, saying, "O phœnix, O phœnix, how has thy virtue fallen!-- By thus issuing forth out of due season.
unable to wait for the coming years or to go back into the past.
When you might be, or might have been, of use. The idea conveyed is that Confucianism was unsuited to its age. See _Lun-yü_, ch. xviii.
If TAO prevails on earth, prophets will fulfil their mission. If TAO does not prevail, they will but preserve themselves. At the present day they will but just escape.
"The honours of this world are light as feathers, yet none estimate them at their true value. The misfortunes of this life are weighty as the earth itself, yet none can keep out of their reach. No more, no more, seek to influence by virtue. Beware, beware, move cautiously on!
O ferns, O ferns, wound not my steps! Through my tortuous journey wound not my feet! Hills suffer from the trees they produce. Fat burns by its own combustibility. Cinnamon trees furnish food: therefore they are cut down. The lacquer tree is felled for use. All men know the use of useful things; but they do not know the use of useless things."
CHAPTER V.
THE EVIDENCE OF VIRTUE COMPLETE.
_Argument_:--Correspondence between inward virtue and outward influence--The virtuous man disregards externals--The possession of virtue causes oblivion of outward form--Neglect of the human--Cultivation of the divine.
In the State of Lu there was a man, named Wang T'ai, who had had his toes cut off. His disciples were as numerous as those of Confucius.
Ch'ang Chi One of the latter.
asked Confucius, saying, "This Wang T'ai has been mutilated, yet he divides with you, Sir, the teaching of the Lu State. He neither preaches nor discusses; yet those who go to him empty, depart full. He must teach _the doctrine which does not find expression in words_; The doctrine of TAO. These words occur in chs. ii and xliii of the and although his shape is imperfect, his mind is perhaps complete. What manner of man is this?"
"He is a prophet," replied Confucius, "whose instruction I have been late in seeking. I will go and learn from him. And if I,--why not those who are not equal to me? And I will take with me, not the State of Lu only, but the whole world."
"The fellow has been mutilated," said Ch'ang Chi, "and yet people call him _Master_. He must be very different from the ordinary run. But how does he use his mind in this sense?"
"Life and Death are all powerful," answered Confucius, "but they cannot affect _it_.
The mind, or soul, which is immortal. See ch. iii.
Heaven and earth may collapse, but _that_ will remain. If _this_ is found to be without flaw, it will not share the fate of all things. It can cause other things to change, while preserving its own constitution intact."
"How so?" asked Ch'ang Chi.
"From the point of view of difference," replied Confucius, "we distinguish between the liver and the gall, between the Ch'u State and the Yüeh State. From the point of view of sameness, all things are ONE. Such is the position of Wang T'ai. He does not trouble about what reaches him through the senses of hearing and sight, but directs his whole mind towards the very climax of virtue. He beholds all things as though ONE, without observing their discrepancies. And thus the discrepancy of his toes is to him as would be the loss of so much mud."
"He devotes himself in fact to himself," said Ch'ang Chi, "and uses his wisdom to perfect his mind, until it becomes perfect. But how then is it that people make so much of him?"
His virtue being wholly, as it were, of a selfish order.
"A man," replied Confucius, "does not seek to see himself in running water, but in still water. For only what is itself still can instil stillness into others.
"The grace of earth has reached only to pines and cedars;--winter and summer alike they are green. The grace of God has reached to Yao and to Shun alone;--the first and foremost of all creation. Happily they were able to regulate their own lives and thus regulate the lives of all mankind.
"By nourishment of physical courage, the sense of fear may be so eliminated that a man will, single-handed, brave a whole army. And if such a result can be achieved in search of fame, how much more by one who extends his sway over heaven and earth and influences all things; and who, lodging within the confines of a body with its channels of sight and sound, brings his knowledge to know that all things are ONE, and that his soul endures for ever! Besides, he awaits his appointed hour, and men flock to him of their own accord. He makes no effort to attract them."
That men thus gather around him is the outward sign or evidence of his inward virtue complete.
Shên T'u Chia had had his toes cut off. Subsequently, he studied under Poh Hun Wu Jen at the same time as Tzŭ Ch'an of the Chêng State. The latter said to him, "When I leave first, do you remain awhile. When you leave first, I will remain behind."
Tzŭ Ch'an was a model minister of the sixth century B.C. Under his guidance the people of the Chêng State became so virtuous that doors were not locked at night, nor would any one pick up lost articles left lying in the road. He was hardly likely to be ashamed of walking out with a mutilated criminal.
Next day, when they were again together in the lecture-room, Tzŭ Ch'an said, "When I leave first, do you remain awhile. When you leave first, I will remain. I am now about to go. Will you remain or not? I notice you show no respect to a Minister of State. Perhaps you think yourself my equal?"
"Dear me!" replied Shên T'u Chia, "I didn't know we had a Minister of State in the class. Perhaps you think that because you are one you should take precedence over the rest. Now I have heard that if a mirror is perfectly bright, dust and dirt will not collect on it. That if they do, it is because the mirror was not bright. He who associates for long with the wise will be without fault. Now you have been improving yourself at the feet of our Master, yet you can utter words like these.
Is not the fault in you?"
"You are a fine fellow, certainly," retorted Tzŭ Ch'an, "you will be emulating the virtue of Yao next. To look at you, I should say you had enough to do to attend to your own shortcomings!"
A sneer at his want of toes.
"Those who disguise their faults," said Shên T'u Chia, "so as not to lose their toes, are many in number. Those who do not disguise their faults, and so fail to keep them, are few. To recognise the inevitable and to quietly acquiesce in Destiny, is the achievement of the virtuous man alone. He who should put himself in front of the bull's-eye when Hou I A Chinese Tell.
was shooting, would be hit. If he was not hit, it would be destiny.
Those with toes who laugh at me for having no toes are many. This used to make me angry. But since I have studied under our Master, I have ceased to trouble about it. It may be that our Master has so far succeeded in purifying me. At any rate I have been with him nineteen years without being aware of the loss of my toes. Now you and I are engaged in studying the internal. Do you not then commit a fault by thus dragging me back to the external?"
At this Tzŭ Ch'an began to fidget, and changing countenance, begged Shên T'u Chia to say no more.
* * * * * There was a man of the Lu State who had been mutilated,--Shu Shan _No-toes_. He came walking on his heels to see Confucius; but Confucius said, "You did not take care, and so brought this misfortune upon yourself. What is the use of coming to me now?"
"In my ignorance," replied No-toes, "I made free with my body and lost my toes. But I come with something more precious than toes which I now seek to keep. There is no man, but Heaven covers him: there is no man, but Earth supports him;--and I thought that you, sir, would be as Heaven and Earth. I little expected to hear these words from you."
"I must apologise," said Confucius. "Pray walk in and let us discuss."
But No-toes walked out.
"There!" said Confucius to his disciples. "There is a criminal without toes who seeks to learn in order to make atonement for his previous misdeeds. And if he, how much more those who have no misdeeds for which to atone?"
No-toes went off to Lao Tzŭ and said, "Is Confucius a sage, or is he not? How is it he has so many disciples? He aims at being a subtle dialectician, not knowing that such a reputation is regarded by real sages as the fetters of a criminal."
"Why do you not meet him with the continuity of life and death, the identity of _can_ and _can not_," answered Lao Tzŭ, "and so release him from these fetters?"
"He has been thus punished by God," replied No-toes. "It would be impossible to release him."
A sneer at Confucius. No-toes himself had only been punished by man.
Duke Ai of the Lu State said to Confucius, "In the Wei State there is a leper, named Ai T'ai T'o. The men who live with him like him and make no effort to get rid of him. Of the women who have seen him, many have said to their parents, Rather than be another man's wife, I would be his concubine.
"He never preaches at people, but puts himself into sympathy with them. He wields no power by which he may protect men's bodies. He has at his disposal no appointments by which to gratify their hearts. He is loathsome to a degree. He sympathises, but does not instruct. His knowledge is limited to his own State. Yet males and females alike all congregate around him.
"So thinking that he must be different from ordinary men, I sent for him, and saw that he was indeed loathsome to a degree. Yet we had not been many months together ere my attention was fixed upon his conduct.
A year had not elapsed ere I trusted him thoroughly; and as my State wanted a Prime Minister, I offered the post to him. He accepted it sullenly, as if he would much rather have declined. Perhaps he didn't think me good enough for him! At any rate, he took it; but in a very short time he left me and went away. I grieved for him as for a lost friend, and as though there were none left with whom I could rejoice.
What manner of man is this?
"When I was on a mission to the Ch'u State," replied Confucius, "I saw a litter of young pigs sucking their dead mother. After a while they looked at her, and then they all left the body and went off. For their mother did not look at them any more, nor did she any more seem to be of their kind. What they loved was their mother; not the body which contained her, but that which made the body what it was.
"When a man is killed in battle, his arms are not buried with him.
He has no further use for weapons.
A man whose toes have been cut off does not value a present of boots.
In each case the function of such things is gone.
"The concubines of the Son of Heaven do not cut their nails or pierce their ears.
For fear of injuring their persons.
He who has a marriageable daughter keeps her away from menial work. To preserve her beauty is quite enough occupation for her. How much more so for a man of perfect virtue?
Who should trouble himself only about the internal.
"Now Ai T'ai T'o says nothing, and is trusted. He does nothing, and is sought after. He causes a man to offer him the government of his own State, and the only fear is lest he should decline. Truly his talents are perfect and his virtue without outward form!"
"What do you mean by his talents being perfect?" asked the Duke.
"Life and Death," replied Confucius, "existence and non-existence, success and non-success, poverty and wealth, virtue and vice, good and evil report, hunger and thirst, warmth and cold,--these all revolve upon the changing wheel of Destiny. Day and night they follow one upon the other, and no man can say where each one begins. Therefore they cannot be allowed to disturb the harmony of the organism, nor enter into the soul's domain. Swim however with the tide, so as not to offend others. Do this day by day without break, and live in peace with mankind. Thus you will be ready for all contingencies, and may be said to have your talents perfect."
"And virtue without outward form; what is that?"
"In a water-level," said Confucius, "the water is in a most perfect state of repose. Let that be your model. The water remains quietly within, and does not overflow. It is from the cultivation of such harmony that virtue results. And if virtue takes no outward form, man will not be able to keep aloof from it."
Mankind will be regenerated thereby, in the same way that evenness is imparted by the aid of water to surfaces, although the water is all the time closed up and does not overflow.
Some days afterwards Duke Ai told Min Tzŭ, One of Confucius' disciples.
saying, "When first I took the reins of government in hand, I thought that in caring for my people's lives I had done all my duty as a ruler.
But now that I have heard what a perfect man is, I fear that I have not been succeeding, but foolishly using my body and working destruction to my State. Confucius and I are not prince and minister, but merely friends with a care for each other's moral welfare."
A certain hunchback, named Wu Ch'un, whose heels did not touch the ground, had the ear of Duke Ling of Wei. The Duke took a great fancy to him; and as for well-formed men, he thought their necks were too short.
Another man, with a goitre as big as a large jar, had the ear of Duke Huan of Ch'i. The Duke took a great fancy to him; and as for well-formed men, he thought their necks were too thin.
Thus it is that virtue should prevail and outward form be forgotten.
But mankind forgets not that which is to be forgotten, forgetting that which is not to be forgotten. This is forgetfulness indeed! And thus with the truly wise, wisdom is a curse, sincerity like glue, virtue only a means to acquire, and skill nothing more than a commercial capacity. For the truly wise make no plans, and therefore require no wisdom. They do not separate, and therefore require no glue. They want nothing, and therefore need no virtue. They sell nothing, and therefore are not in want of a commercial capacity. These four qualifications are bestowed upon them by God and serve as heavenly food to them. And those who thus feed upon the divine have little need for the human. They wear the forms of men, without human passions. Because they wear the forms of men, they associate with men. Because they have not human passions, positives and negatives find in them no place.
Infinitesimal indeed is that which makes them man: infinitely great is that which makes them divine!
Hui Tzŭ said to Chuang Tzŭ, "Are there then men who have no passions?"
Chuang Tzŭ replied, "Certainly."
"But if a man has no passions," argued Hui Tzŭ, "what is it that makes him a man?"
"TAO," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "gives him his expression, and God gives him his form. How should he not be a man?"
"If then he is a man," said Hui Tzŭ, "how can he be without passions?"
"What you mean by passions," answered Chuang Tzŭ, "is not what I mean.
By a man without passions I mean one who does not permit good and evil to disturb his internal economy, but rather falls in with whatever happens, as a matter of course, and does not add to the sum of his mortality."
The play of passion would tend to create conditions which otherwise would not exist.
"But whence is man to get his body," asked Hui Tzŭ, "if there is to be no adding to the sum of mortality?"
This is of course a gibe. Hui Tzŭ purposely takes Chuang Tzŭ's words _à double entente_.
"TAO gives him his expression," said Chuang Tzŭ, "and God gives him his form. He does not permit good and evil to disturb his internal economy.
But now you are devoting your intelligence to externals, and wearing out your mental powers. You prop yourself against a tree and mutter, or lean over a table with half-closed eyes.
God has made you a shapely sight, Yet your only thought is the _hard and white_."
Chang Tzŭ puts his last sentence into doggerel, the more effectively to turn the tables against Hui Tzŭ, whose paradoxical theories he is never tired of ridiculing. See ch. ii.
CHAPTER VI.
THE GREAT SUPREME.
_Argument_:--The human and the divine--The pure men of old--Their qualifications--Their self-abstraction--All things as ONE--The known and the unknown--Life a boon--Death a transition--Life eternal open to He who knows what God is, and who knows what Man is, has attained.
Knowing what God is, he knows that he himself proceeded therefrom.
Knowing what Man is, he rests in the knowledge of the known, waiting for the knowledge of the unknown. Working out one's allotted span, and not perishing in mid career,--this is the fulness of knowledge.
God is a principle which exists by virtue of its own intrinsicality, and operates spontaneously, without self-manifestation.
It is in the human that the divine finds expression. Man emanates from God, and should therefore be on earth, in this brief life of ours, what God is for all eternity in the universe.
Herein, however, there is a flaw. Knowledge is dependent upon fulfilment. And as this fulfilment is uncertain, how can it be known that my divine is not really human, my human really divine?
Not until death lifts the veil can we truly know that this life is bounded at each end by an immortality to which the soul finally reverts.
"Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state."
We must have _pure men_, and then only can we have _pure knowledge_.
"Pure" must be understood in the sense of transcendent.
But what is a pure man?--The pure men of old acted without calculation, not seeking to secure results. They laid no plans. Therefore, failing, they had no cause for regret; succeeding, no cause for congratulation.
And thus they could scale heights without fear; enter water without becoming wet; fire, without feeling hot. So far had their wisdom advanced towards TAO.
"The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and waves cannot drown him."--_Emerson._ The pure men of old slept without dreams, and waked without anxiety.
They ate without discrimination, breathing deep breaths. For pure men draw breath from their uttermost depths; the vulgar only from their throats.
"Uttermost depths" is literally "heels," but all the best commentators take the sentence to mean that pure men breathe with their whole being, and not as it were superficially, from the throat only.
This passage is probably responsible for the trick of taking deep inhalations of morning air, practised (not without scientific foundation) by the followers of the debased Taoism of modern times.
Other tricks for prolonging life, such as swallowing the saliva three times in every two hours, etc., are more open to adverse criticism.
See the _T'ai-Hsi-Ching_.
Out of the crooked, words are retched up like vomit. If men's passions are deep, their divinity is shallow.
The pure men of old did not know what it was to love life or to hate death. They did not rejoice in birth, nor strive to put off dissolution. Quickly come, and quickly go;--no more. They did not forget whence it was they had sprung, neither did they seek to hasten their return thither. Cheerfully they played their allotted parts, waiting patiently for the end. This is what is called not to lead the heart astray from TAO, By admitting play of passion in the sense condemned in ch. v. which would hinder the mind from resting quietly in the knowledge of the known.
nor to let the human seek to supplement the divine.
But to wait patiently for the knowledge of the unknown.
And this is what is meant by a pure man.
Such men are in mind absolutely free; in demeanour, grave; in expression, cheerful. If it is freezing cold, it seems to them like autumn; if blazing hot, like spring. Their passions occur like the four seasons.
Each at its appointed time.
They are in harmony with all creation, and none know the limit thereof.
These last few words occur in the _Tao-Tê-Ching_, ch. lviii. See _The Remains of Lao Tzŭ_, p. 40. Also, with a variation, in ch. xxii of this work.
And so it is that a perfect man can destroy a kingdom and yet not lose the hearts of the people, while the benefits he hands down to ten thousand generations do not proceed from love of his fellow-man.
Whatever he does is spontaneous, and therefore natural, and therefore in accordance with right.
He who delights in man, is himself not a perfect man. His affection is not true charity.
Charity is the universal love of all creation which admits of no particular manifestations.
Depending upon opportunity, he has not true worth.
True worth is independent of circumstances. It is a quality which is always unconsciously operating for good, and needs no opportunity to call it into existence.
He who is not conversant with both good and evil is not a superior man.
The good, to practise; the evil, to avoid.
He who disregards his reputation is not what a man should be.
As a mere social unit.
He who is not absolutely oblivious of his own existence can never be a ruler of men.
Thus Hu Pu Hsieh, Wu Kuang, Poh I, Shu Ch'i, Chi Tzŭ Hsü Yü, Chi T'o, and Shên T'u Ti, were the servants of rulers, and did the behests of others, not their own.
A list of ancient worthies whose careers had been more or less unsuccessful. Of the first and second little is known, except that the ears of the latter were seven inches long.
The third and fourth were brothers and are types of moral purity.
Each refused the throne of their State, because each considered his brother more entitled thereto. Finally, they died of starvation on the mountains rather than submit to a change of the Imperial dynasty. More will be heard of these two later on.
The fifth smeared his body all over with lacquer, so that no one should come near him. Of the sixth, nothing is recorded; and of the seventh, only that he tied a stone around his neck and jumped into a river. See the _Fragmenta_ at the end of the works of Shih Tzŭ.
The pure men of old did their duty to their neighbours, but did not associate with them.
Among them, but not of them.
They behaved as though wanting in themselves, but without flattering others. Naturally rectangular, they were not uncompromisingly hard.
They manifested their independence without going to extremes. They appeared to smile as if pleased, when the expression was only a natural response.
As required by the exigencies of society.
Their outward semblance derived its fascination from the store of goodness within. They seemed to be of the world around them, while proudly treading beyond its limits. They seemed to desire silence, while in truth they had dispensed with language.
See ch. v.
They saw in penal laws a trunk; A natural basis of government.
in social ceremonies, wings; To aid man's progress through life.
in wisdom, a useful accessory; in morality, a guide. For them penal laws meant a merciful administration; social ceremonies, a passport through the world; wisdom, an excuse for doing what they could not help; and morality, walking like others upon the path.
Instead of at random across country. At such an early date was uniformity a characteristic of the Chinese people.
And thus all men praised them for the worthy lives they led.
For what they cared for could be reduced to ONE, and what they did not care for to ONE also. That which was ONE was ONE, and that which was not ONE was likewise ONE. In that which was ONE, they were of God; in that which was not ONE, they were of Man. And so between the human and the divine no conflict ensued. This was to be a pure man.
Life and Death belong to Destiny. Their sequence, like day and night, is of God, beyond the interference of man, an inevitable law.
A man looks upon God as upon his father, and loves him in like measure.
Shall he then not love that which is greater than God?
_Sc._ TAO.
A man looks upon a ruler of men as upon some one better than himself, for whom he would sacrifice his life. Shall he not then do so for the Supreme Ruler of Creation?