1
Among the disciples of Lâo Tan there was a Käng-sang Khû, who
had got a greater knowledge than the others of his doctrines,
and took up his residence with it in the north at the hill of
Wei-lêi. His servants who were pretentious and knowing he sent
away, and his concubines who were officious and kindly he kept
at a distance; living (only) with those who were boorish and
rude, and employing (only) the bustling and ill-mannered. After
three years there was great prosperity in Wei-lêi, and the
people said to one another, 'When Mr. Käng-sang first came here,
he alarmed us, and we thought him strange; our estimate of him
after a short acquaintance was that he could not do us much
good; but now that we have known him for years, we find him a
more than ordinary benefit. Must he not be near being a sage?
Why should you not unite in blessing him as the representative
of our departed (whom we worship), and raise an altar to him as
we do to the spirit of the grain?' Käng-sang heard of it, kept
his face indeed to the south but was dissatisfied.
His disciples thought it strange in him, but he said to them,
'Why, my disciples, should you think this strange in me? When
the airs of spring come forth, all vegetation grows; and, when
the autumn arrives, all the previous fruits of the earth are
matured. Do spring and autumn have these effects without any
adequate cause? The processes of the Great Tâo have been in
operation. I have heard that the Perfect man dwells idly in his
apartment within its surrounding walls, and the people get wild
and crazy, not knowing how they should repair to him. Now these
small people of Wei-lêi in their opinionative way want to
present their offerings to me, and place me among such men of
ability and virtue. But am I a man to be set up as such a model?
It is on this account that I am dissatisfied when I think of the
words of Lâo Tan.'
2
His disciples said, 'Not so. In ditches eight cubits wide, or
even twice as much, big fishes cannot turn their bodies about,
but minnows and eels find them sufficient for them; on hillocks
six or seven cubits high, large beasts cannot conceal
themselves, but foxes of evil omen find it a good place for
them. And moreover, honour should be paid to the wise, offices
given to the able, and preference shown to the good and the
beneficial. From of old Yâo and Shun acted thus;--how much more
may the people of Wei-lêi do so! O Master, let them have their
way!'
Käng-sang replied, 'Come nearer, my little children. If a beast
that could hold a carriage in its mouth leave its hill by
itself, it will not escape the danger that awaits it from the
net; or if a fish that could swallow a boat be left dry by the
flowing away of the water, then (even) the ants are able to
trouble it. Thus it is that birds and beasts seek to be as high
as possible, and fishes and turtles seek to lie as deep as
possible. In the same way men who wish to preserve their bodies
and lives keep their persons concealed, and they do so in the
deepest retirement possible. And moreover, what was there in
those sovereigns to entitle them to your laudatory mention?
Their sophistical reasonings (resembled) the reckless breaking
down of walls and enclosures and planting the wild rub us and
wormwood in their place; or making the hair thin before they
combed it; or counting the grains of rice before they cooked
them. They would do such things with careful discrimination; but
what was there in them to benefit the world? If you raise the
men of talent to office, you will create disorder; making the
people strive with one another for promotion; if you employ men
for their wisdom, the people will rob one another (of their
reputation). These various things are insufficient to make the
people good and honest. They are very eager for gain;--a son
will kill his father, and a minister his ruler (for it). In
broad daylight men will rob, and at midday break through walls.
I tell you that the root of the greatest disorder was planted in
the times of Yâo and Shun. The branches of it will remain for a
thousand ages; and after a thousand ages men will be found
eating one another.)
3
(On this) Nan-yung Khû abruptly sat right up and said, 'What
method can an old man like me adopt to become (the Perfect man)
that you have described?' Käng-sang Dze said, 'Maintain your
body complete; hold your life in close embrace; and do not let
your thoughts keep working anxiously:--do this for three years,
and you may become the man of whom I have spoken.' The other
rejoined, 'Eyes are all of the same form, I do not know any
difference between them:--yet the blind have no power of vision.
Ears are all of the same form; I do not know any difference
between them:--yet the deaf have no power of hearing. Minds are
all of the same nature, I do not know any difference between
them;--yet the mad cannot make the minds of other men their own.
(My) personality is indeed like (yours), but things seem to
separate between us. I wish to find in myself what there is in
you, but I am not able to do so'. You have now said to me,
"Maintain your body complete; hold your life in close embrace;
and do not let your thoughts keep working anxiously." With all
my efforts to learn your Way, (your words) reach only my ears.'
Käng-sang replied, 'I can say nothing more to you,' and then he
added, 'Small flies cannot transform the bean caterpillar; Yüeh
fowls cannot hatch the eggs of geese, but Lû fowls can. It is
not that the nature of these fowls is different; the ability in
the one case and inability in the other arise from their
different capacities as large and small. My ability is small and
not sufficient to transform you. Why should you not go south and
see Lâo-dze?'
4
Nan-yung Khû hereupon took with him some rations, and after
seven days and seven nights arrived at the abode of Lâo-dze, who
said to him, 'Are you come from Khû's?' 'I am,' was the reply.
'And why, Sir, have you come with such a multitude of
attendants?' Nan-yung was frightened, and turned his head round
to look behind him. Lâo-dze said, 'Do you not understand my
meaning?' The other held his head down and was ashamed, and then
he lifted it up, and sighed, saying, 'I forgot at the moment
what I should reply to your question, and in consequence I have
lost what I wished to ask you.' 'What do you mean?' If I have
not wisdom, men say that I am stupid, while if I have it, it
occasions distress to myself. If I have not benevolence, then (I
am charged) with doing hurt to others, while if I have it, I
distress myself. If I have not righteousness, I (am charged
with) injuring others, while if I have it, I distress myself.
How can I escape from these dilemmas? These are the three
perplexities that trouble me; and I wish at the suggestion of
Khû to ask you about them.' Lao-dze replied, 'A little time ago,
when I saw you and looked right into your eyes, I understood
you, and now your words confirm the judgment which I formed. You
look frightened and amazed. You have lost your parents, and are
trying with a pole to find them at the (bottom of) the sea. You
have gone astray; you are at your wit's end. You wish to recover
your proper nature, and you know not what step to take first to
find it. You are to be pitied!'
5
Nan-yung Khû asked to be allowed to enter (the establishment),
and have an apartment assigned to him. (There) he sought to
realise the qualities which he loved, and put away those which
he hated. For ten days he afflicted himself, and then waited
again on Lâo-dze, who said to him, 'You must purify yourself
thoroughly! But from your symptoms of distress, and signs of
impurity about you, I see there still seem to cling to you
things that you dislike. When the fettering influences from
without become numerous, and you try to seize them (you will
find it a difficult task); the better plan is to bar your inner
man against their entrance. And when the similar influences
within get intertwined, it is a difficult task to grasp (and
hold them in check); the better plan is to bar the outer door
against their exit. Even a master of the Tâo and its
characteristics will not be able to control these two influences
together, and how much less can one who is only a student of the
Tâo do so!' Nan-yung Khû said, 'A certain villager got an
illness, and when his neighbours asked about it, he was able to
describe the malady, though it was one from which he had not
suffered before. When I ask you about the Grand Tâo, it seems to
me like drinking medicine which (only serves to) increase my
illness. I should like to hear from you about the regular method
of guarding the life;--that will be sufficient for me.' Lao-dze
replied, '(You ask me about) the regular method of guarding the
life;--can you hold the One thing fast in your embrace? Can you
keep from losing it? Can you know the lucky and the unlucky
without having recourse to the tortoise-shell or the divining
stalks? Can you rest (where you ought to rest)? Can you stop
(when you have got enough)? Can you give over thinking of other
men, and seek what you want in yourself (alone)? Can you flee
(from the allurements of desire)? Can you maintain an entire
simplicity? Can you become a little child? The child will cry
all the day, without its throat becoming hoarse;--so perfect is
the harmony (of its physical constitution). It will keep its
fingers closed all the day without relaxing their grasp;--such
is the concentration of its powers. It will keep its eyes fixed
all day, without their moving;--so is it unaffected by what is
external to it. It walks it knows not whither; it rests where it
is placed, it knows not why; it is calmly indifferent to things,
and follows their current. This is the regular method of
guarding the life.'
6
Nan-yung Khû said, 'And are these all the characteristics of the
Perfect man?' Lao-dze replied, 'No. These are what we call the
breaking up of the ice, and the dissolving of the cold. The
Perfect man, along with other men, gets his food from the earth,
and derives his joy from his Heaven (-conferred nature). But he
does not like them allow himself to be troubled by the
consideration of advantage or injury coming from men and things;
he does not like them do strange things, or form plans, or enter
on undertakings; he flees from the allurements of desire, and
pursues his way with an entire simplicity. Such is the way by
which he guards his life.' 'And is this what constitutes his
perfection?' 'Not quite. I asked you whether you could become a
little child. The little child moves unconscious of what it is
doing, and walks unconscious of whither it is going. Its body is
like the branch of a rotten tree, and its mind is like slaked
lime. Being such, misery does not come to it, nor happiness. It
has neither misery nor happiness;--how can it suffer from the
calamities incident to men?'
7
He whose mind is thus grandly fixed emits a Heavenly light. In
him who emits this heavenly light men see the (True) man. When a
man has cultivated himself (up to this point), thenceforth he
remains constant in himself. When he is thus constant in
himself, (what is merely) the human element will leave him', but
Heaven will help him. Those whom their human element has left we
call the people of Heaven. Those whom Heaven helps we call the
Sons of Heaven. Those who would by learning attain to this seek
for what they cannot learn. Those who would by effort attain to
this, attempt what effort can never effect. Those who aim by
reasoning to reach it reason where reasoning has no place. To
know to stop where they cannot arrive by means of knowledge is
the highest attainment. Those who cannot do this will be
destroyed on the lathe of Heaven.
8
Where things are all adjusted to maintain the body; where a
provision against unforeseen dangers is kept up to maintain the
life of the mind; where an inward reverence is cherished to be
exhibited (in all intercourse) with others;--where this is done,
and yet all evils arrive, they are from Heaven, and not from the
men themselves. They will not be sufficient to confound the
established (virtue of the character), or be admitted into the
Tower of Intelligence. That Tower has its Guardian, who acts
unconsciously, and whose care will not be effective, if there be
any conscious purpose in it. If one who has not this entire
sincerity in himself make any outward demonstration, every such
demonstration will be incorrect. The thing will enter into him,
and not let go its hold. Then with every fresh demonstration
there will be still greater failure. If he do what is not good
in the light of open day, men will have the opportunity of
punishing him; if he do it in darkness and secrecy, spirits Will
inflict the punishment. Let a man understand this--his relation
both to men and spirits, and then he will do what is good in the
solitude of himself.
He whose rule of life is in himself does not act for the sake of
a name. He whose rule is outside himself has his will set on
extensive acquisition. He who does not act for the sake of a
name emits a light even in his ordinary conduct; he whose will
is set on extensive acquisition is but a trafficker. Men see how
he stands on tiptoe, while he thinks that he is overtopping
others. Things enter (and take possession of) him who (tries to)
make himself exhaustively (acquainted with them), while when one
is indifferent to them, they do not find any lodgment in his
person. And how can other men find such lodgment? But when one
denies lodgment to men, there are none who feel attachment to
him. In this condition he is cut off from other men. There is no
weapon more deadly than the will;--even Mû-yê was inferior to
it. There is no robber greater than the Yin and Yang, from whom
nothing can escape of all between heaven and earth. But it is
not the Yin and Yang that play the robber;--it is the mind that
causes them to do so.
9
The Tâo is to be found in the subdivisions (of its subject); (it
is to be found) in that when complete, and when broken up. What
I dislike in considering it as subdivided, is that the division
leads to the multiplication of it;--and what I dislike in that
multiplication is that it leads to the (thought of) effort to
secure it. Therefore when (a man) comes forth (and is born), if
he did not return (to his previous non-existence), we should
have (only) seen his ghost; when he comes forth and gets this
(return), he dies (as we say). He is extinguished, and yet has a
real existence:--this is another way of saying that in life we
have) only man's ghost. By taking the material as an emblem of
the immaterial do we arrive at a settlement of the case of man.
He comes forth, but from no root; he reenters, but by no
aperture. He has a real existence. but it has nothing to do with
place; he has continuance, but it has nothing to do with
beginning or end. He has a real existence, but it has nothing to
do with place, such is his relation to space; he has
continuance, but it has nothing to do with beginning or end,
such is his relation to time; he has life; he has death; he
comes forth; he enters; but we do not see his form;--all this is
what is called the door of Heaven. The door of Heaven is
Non-Existence. All things come from non-existence. The (first)
existences could not bring themselves into existence; they must
have come from non-existence. And non-existence is just the same
as non-existing. Herein is the secret of the sages.
10
Among the ancients there were those whose knowledge reached the
extreme point. And what was that point? There were some who
thought that in the beginning there was nothing. This was the
extreme point, the completest reach of their knowledge, to which
nothing could be added. Again, there were those who supposed
that (in the beginning) there were existences, proceeding to
consider life to be a (gradual) perishing, and death a returning
(to the original state). And there they stopped, making,
(however), a distinction between life and death. Once again
there were those who said, 'In the beginning there was nothing;
by and by there was life; and then in a little time life was
succeeded by death. We hold that non-existence was the head,
life the body, and death the os coccygis [sic]. But of those who
acknowledge that existence and nonexistence, death and life, are
all under the One Keeper, we are the friends.' Though those who
maintained these three views were different, they were so as the
different branches of the same ruling Family (of Khû),--the Kâos
and the Kings, bearing the surname of the lord whom they
honoured as the author of their branch, and the Kiâs named from
their appanage;--(all one, yet seeming) not to be one.
The possession of life is like the soot that collects under a
boiler. When that is differently distributed, the life is spoken
of as different. But to say that life is different in different
lives, and better in one than in another, is an improper mode of
speech. And yet there may be something here which we do not
know. (As for instance), at the lâ sacrifice the paunch and the
divided hoofs may be set forth on separate dishes, but they
should not be considered as parts of different victims; (and
again), when one is inspecting a house, he goes over it all,
even the adytum for the shrines of the temple, and visits also
the most private apartments; doing this, and setting a different
estimate on the different parts.
Let me try and speak of this method of apportioning one's
approval:--life is the fundamental consideration in it;
knowledge is the instructor. From this they multiply their
approvals and disapprovals, determining what is merely nominal
and what is real. They go on to conclude that to themselves must
the appeal be made in everything, and to try to make others
adopt them as their model; prepared even to die to make good
their views on every point. In this way they consider being
employed in office as a mark of wisdom, and not being so
employed as a mark of stupidity, success as entitling to fame,
and the want of it as disgraceful. The men of the present day
who follow this differentiating method are like the cicada and
the little dove;--there is no difference between them.
11
When one treads on the foot of another in the market-place, he
apologises on the ground of the bustle. If an elder tread on his
younger brother, he proceeds to comfort him; if a parent tread
on a child, he says and does nothing. Hence it is said, 'The
greatest politeness is to show no special respect to others; the
greatest righteousness is to take no account of things; the
greatest wisdom is to lay no plans; the greatest benevolence is
to make no demonstration of affection; the greatest good faith
is to give no pledge of sincerity.'
Repress the impulses of the will; unravel the errors of the
mind; put away the entanglements to virtue; and clear away all
that obstructs the free course of the Tâo. Honours and riches,
distinctions and austerity, fame and profit; these six things
produce the impulses of the will. Personal appearance and
deportment, the desire of beauty and subtle reasonings,
excitement of the breath and cherished thoughts; these six
things produce errors of the mind. Hatred and longings, joy and
anger, grief and delight; these six things are the entanglements
to virtue. Refusals and approachments, receiving and giving,
knowledge and ability; these six things obstruct the course of
the Tâo. When these four conditions, with the six causes of
each, do not agitate the breast, the mind is correct. Being
correct, it is still; being still, it is pellucid; being
pellucid, it is free from pre-occupation; being free from
pre-occupation, it is in the state of inaction, in which it
accomplishes everything.
The Tâo is the object of reverence to all the virtues. Life is
what gives opportunity for the display of the virtues. The
nature is the substantive character of the life. The movement of
the nature is called action. When action becomes hypocritical,
we say that it has lost (its proper attribute).
The wise communicate with what is external to them and are
always laying plans. This is what with all their wisdom they are
not aware of;--they look at things askance. When the action (of
the nature) is from external constraint, we have what is called
virtue; when it is all one's own, we have what is called
government. These two names seem to be opposite to each other,
but in reality they are in mutual accord.
12
Î was skilful in hitting the minutest mark, but stupid in
wishing men to go on praising him without end. The sage is
skilful Heavenwards, but stupid manwards. It is only the
complete man who can be both skilful Heavenwards and good
manwards.
Only an insect can play the insect, only an insect show the
insect nature. Even the complete man hates the attempt to
exemplify the nature of Heaven. He hates the manner in which men
do so, and how much more would he hate the doing so by himself
before men!
When a bird came in the way of Î, he was sure to obtain
it;--such was his mastery with his bow. If all the world were to
be made a cage, birds would have nowhere to escape to. Thus it
was that Thang caged Î Yin by making him his cook, and that duke
Mû of Khin caged Pâi-lî Hsî by giving the skins of five rams for
him. But if you try to cage men by anything but what they like,
you will never succeed.
man, one of whose feet has been cut off, discards ornamental
(clothes);--his outward appearance will not admit of admiration.
A criminal under sentence of death will ascend to any height
without fear;--he has ceased to think of life or death.
When one persists in not reciprocating the gifts (of
friendship), he forgets all others. Having forgotten all others,
he may be considered as a Heaven-like man. Therefore when
respect is shown to a man, and it awakens in him no joy, and
when contempt awakens no anger, it is only one who shares in the
Heaven-like harmony that can be thus. When he would display
anger and yet is not angry, the anger comes out in that
repression of it. When he would put forth action, and yet does
not do so, the action is in that not-acting. Desiring to be
quiescent, he must pacify all his emotions; desiring to be
spirit-like, he must act in conformity with his mind. When
action is required of him, he wishes that it may be right; and
it then is under an inevitable constraint. Those who act
according to that inevitable constraint pursue the way of the
sage. |