1
The methods employed in the regulation of the world are many;
and (the employers of them) think each that the efficiency of
his own method leaves nothing to be added to it.
But where is what was called of old 'the method of the Tâo?' We
must reply, 'It is everywhere.' But then whence does the
spiritual in it come down? and whence does the intelligence in
it come forth? There is that which gives birth to the Sage, and
that which gives his perfection to the King:--the origin of both
is the One.
Not to be separate from his primal source constitutes what we
call the Heavenly man; not to be separate from the essential
nature thereof constitutes what we call the Spirit-like man; not
to be separate from its real truth constitutes what we call the
Perfect man.
To regard Heaven as his primal Source, Its Attributes as the
Root (of his nature), and the Tâo as the Gate (by which he
enters into this inheritance), (knowing also) the prognostics
given in change and transformation, constitutes what we call the
Sagely man.
To regard benevolence as (the source of all) kindness,
righteousness as (the source of all) distinctions, propriety as
(the rule of) all conduct, and music as (the idea of) all
harmony, thus diffusing a fragrance of gentleness and goodness,
constitutes what we call the Superior man.
To regard laws as assigning the different (social) conditions,
their names as the outward expression (of the social duties),
the comparison of subjects as supplying the grounds of evidence,
investigation as conducting to certainty, so that things can be
numbered as first, second, third, fourth (and so on):--(this is
the basis of government). Its hundred offices are thus arranged;
business has its regular course; the great matters of clothes
and food are provided for; cattle are fattened and looked after;
the (government) stores are filled; the old and weak, orphans
and solitaries, receive anxious consideration:--in all these
ways is provision made for the nourishment of the people.
How complete was (the operation of the Tâo) in the men of old!
It made them the equals of spiritual beings, and subtle and
all-embracing as heaven and earth. They nourished all things,
and produced harmony all under heaven. Their beneficent
influence reached to all classes of the people. They understood
all fundamental principles, and followed them out to their
graduated issues; in all the six directions went their
penetration, and in the four quarters all things were open to
them. Great and small, fine and coarse;--all felt their presence
and operation. Their intelligence, as seen in all their
regulations, was handed down from age to age in their old laws,
and much of it was still to be found in the Historians. What of
it was in the Shih, the Shû, the Lî, and the Yo, might be
learned from the scholars of Zâu and Lû', and the girdled
members of the various courts. The Shih describes what should be
the aim of the mind; the Shû, the course of events; the Lî is
intended to direct the conduct; the Yo, to set forth harmony;
the Yî, to show the action of the Yin and Yang; and the Khun
Khiû, to display names and the duties belonging to them.
Some of the regulations (of these men of old), scattered all
under heaven, and established in our Middle states, are (also)
occasionally mentioned and described in the writings of the
different schools.
There ensued great disorder in the world, and sages and worthies
no longer shed their light on it. The Tâo and its
characteristics ceased to be regarded as uniform. Many in
different places got one glimpse of it, and plumed themselves on
possessing it as a whole. They might be compared to the ear, the
eye, the nose, or the mouth. Each sense has its own faculty, but
their different faculties cannot be interchanged. So it was with
the many branches of the various schools. Each had its peculiar
excellence, and there was the time for the use of it; but
notwithstanding no one covered or extended over the whole (range
of truth). The case was that of the scholar of a corner who
passes his judgment on all the beautiful in heaven and earth,
discriminates the principles that underlie all things, and
attempts to estimate the success arrived at by the ancients.
Seldom is it that such an one can embrace all the beautiful in
heaven and earth, or rightly estimate the ways of the spiritual
and intelligent; and thus it was that the Tâo, which inwardly
forms the sage and externally the king, became obscured and lost
its clearness, became repressed and lost its development. Every
one in the world did whatever he wished, and was the rule to
himself. Alas! the various schools held on their several ways,
and could not come back to the same point, nor agree together.
The students of that later age unfortunately did not see the
undivided purity of heaven and earth, and the great scheme of
truth held by the ancients. The system of the Tâo was about to
be torn in fragments all under the sky.
2
To leave no example of extravagance to future generations; to
show no wastefulness in the use of anything; to make no display
in the degree of their (ceremonial) observances; to keep
themselves (in their expenditure) under the restraint of strict
and exact rule, so as to be prepared for occurring
emergencies;--such regulations formed part of the system of the
Tâo in antiquity, and were appreciated by Mo Tî, and (his
disciple) Khin Hwa-lî. When they heard of such ways, they were
delighted with them; but they enjoined them in excess, and
followed them themselves too strictly. (Mo) made the treatise
'Against Music,' and enjoined the subject of another, called
'Economy in Expenditure,' on his followers. He would have no
singing in life, and no wearing of mourning on occasions of
death. He inculcated Universal Love, and a Common Participation
in all advantages, and condemned Fighting. His doctrine did not
admit of Anger. He was fond also of Learning, and with it all
strove not to appear different from others. Yet he did not agree
with the former kings, but attacked the ceremonies and music of
the ancients.
Hwang-Tî had his Hsien-khih; Yâo, his Tâ Kang; Shun, his Tâ Shâo;
Yü, his Tâ Hsiâ; Thang, his Tâ Hû; king Wän, his music of the
Phi-yung; and king Wû and the duke of Kâu made the Wû.
In the mourning rites of the ancients, the noble and mean had
their several observances, the high and low their different
degrees. The coffin of the Son of Heaven was sevenfold; of a
feudal lord, fivefold; of a great officer, threefold; of other
officers, twofold. But now Mo-dze alone, would have no singing
during life, and no wearing of mourning after death. As the rule
for all, he would have a coffin of elaeococca wood, three inches
thick, and without any enclosing shell. The teaching of such
lessons cannot be regarded as affording a proof of his love for
men; his practising them in his own case would certainly show
that he did not love himself; but this has not been sufficient
to overthrow the views of Mo-dze. Notwithstanding, men will
sing, and he condemns singing; men will wail, and he condemns
wailing; men will express their joy, and he condemns such
expression:--is this truly in accordance with man's nature?
Through life toil, and at death niggardliness:--his way is one
of great unkindliness. Causing men sorrow and melancholy, and
difficult to be carried into practice, I fear it cannot be
regarded as the way of a sage. Contrary to the minds of men
everywhere, men will not endure it. Though Mo-dze himself might
be able to endure it, how can the aversion of the world to it be
overcome? The world averse to it, it must be far from the way of
the (ancient) kings.
Mo-dze, in praise of his views, said, 'Anciently, when Yü was
draining off the waters of the flood, he set free the channels
of the Kiang and the Ho, and opened communications with them
from the regions of the four Î and the nine provinces. The
famous hills with which he dealt were 300, the branch streams
were 3000, and the smaller ones innumerable. With his own hands
he carried the sack and wielded the spade, till he had united
all the streams of the country (conducting them to the sea).
There was no hair left on his legs from the knee to the ankle.
He bathed his hair in the violent wind, and combed it in the
pelting rain, thus marking out the myriad states. Yü was a great
sage, and thus he toiled in the service of the world.' The
effect of this is that in this later time most of the Mohists
wear skins and dolychos cloth, with shoes of wood or twisted
hemp, not stopping day or night, but considering such toiling on
their part as their highest achievement. They say that he who
cannot do this is acting contrary to the way of Yü, and not fit
to be a Mohist.
The disciples of Khin of Hsiang-lî, the followers of the various
feudal lords; and Mohists of the south, such as Khû Hu, Ki Khih,
and Täng Ling-dze, all repeated the texts of Mo, but they
differed in the objections which they offered to them, and in
their deceitful glosses they called one another Mohists of
different schools. They had their disputations, turning on 'what
was hard,' and 'what was white,' what constituted 'sameness' and
what 'difference,' and their expressions about the difference
between 'the odd' and the even,' with which they answered one
another. They regarded their most distinguished member as a
sage, and wished to make him their chief, hoping that he would
be handed down as such to future ages. To the present day these
controversies are not determined.
The idea of Mo Tî and Khin Hwa-lî was good, but their practice
was wrong. They would have made the Mohists of future ages feel
it necessary to toil themselves, till there was not a hair on
their legs, and still be urging one another on; (thus producing
a condition) superior indeed to disorder, but inferior to the
result of good government. Nevertheless, Mo-dze was indeed one
of the best men in the world, which you may search without
finding his equal. Decayed and worn (his person) might be, but
he is not to be rejected,--a scholar of ability indeed!
3
To keep from being entangled by prevailing customs; to shun all
ornamental attractions in one's self; not to be reckless in his
conduct to others; not to set himself stubbornly against a
multitude; to desire the peace and repose of the world in order
to preserve the lives of the people; and to cease his action
when enough had been obtained for the nourishment of others and
himself, showing that this was the aim of his mind;--such a
scheme belonged to the system of the Tâo in antiquity, and it
was appreciated by Sung Hsing and Yin Wän.
When they heard of such ways, they were delighted with them.
They made the Hwa-shan cap, and wore it as their distinguishing
badge. In their intercourse with others, whatever their
differences might be, they began by being indulgent to them.
Their name for 'the Forbearance of the Mind' was 'the Action of
the Mind.' By the warmth of affection they sought the harmony of
joy, and to blend together all within the four seas; and their
wish was to plant this everywhere as the chief thing to be
pursued. They endured insult without feeling it a disgrace; they
sought to save the people from fighting; they forbade aggression
and sought to hush the weapons of strife, to save their age from
war. In this way they went everywhere, counselling the high and
instructing the low. Though the world might not receive them,
they only insisted on their object the more strongly, and would
not abandon it. Hence it is said, 'The high and the low might be
weary of them, but they were strong to show themselves.'
Notwithstanding all this, they acted too much out of regard to
others, and too little for themselves. It was as if they said,
'What we request and wish is simply that there may be set down
for us five pints of rice;--that will be enough.' But I fear the
Master would not get his fill from this; and the disciples,
though famishing, would still have to be mindful of the world,
and, never stopping day or night, have to say, 'Is it necessary
I should preserve my life? Shall I scheme how to exalt myself
above the master, the saviour of the age?'
It was moreover as if they said, 'The superior man does not
censoriously scrutinize (the faults of others); he does not
borrow from others to supersede his own endeavours; when any
think that he is of no use to the world, he knows that their
intelligence is inferior to his own; he considers the
prohibition of aggression and causing the disuse of arms to be
an external achievement, and the making his own desires to be
few and slight to be the internal triumph.' Such was their
discrimination between the great and the small, the subtle and
the coarse; and with the attainment of this they stopped.
4
Public-spirited, and with nothing of the partizan; easy and
compliant, without any selfish partialities; capable of being
led, without any positive tendencies; following in the wake of
others, without any double mind; not looking round because of
anxious thoughts; not scheming in the exercise of their wisdom;
not choosing between parties, but going along with all;--all
such courses belonged to the Tâoists of antiquity, and they were
appreciated by Phäng Mäng, Thien Phien, and Shän Tâo. When they
heard of such ways, they were delighted with them. They
considered that the first thing for them to do was to adjust the
controversies about different things. They said, 'Heaven can
cover, but it cannot sustain; Earth can contain, but it can-not
cover. The Great Tâo embraces all things, but It does not
discriminate between them.'
They knew that all things have what they can do and what they
cannot do. Hence it is said, 'If you select, you do not reach
all; if you teach some things, you must omit the others; but the
Tâo neglects none.' Therefore Shän Tâo discarded his knowledge
and also all thought of himself, acting only where he had no
alternative, and pursued it as his course to be indifferent and
pure in his dealings with others. He said that the best
knowledge was to have no knowledge, and that if we had a little
knowledge it was likely to prove a dangerous thing. Conscious of
his unfitness, he undertook no charge, and laughed at those who
valued ability and virtue. Remiss and evasive, he did nothing,
and disallowed the greatest sages which the world had known. Now
with a hammer, now with his hand, smoothing all corners, and
breaking all bonds, he accommodated himself to all conditions.
He disregarded right and wrong, his only concern being to avoid
trouble; he learned nothing from the wise and thoughtful, and
took no note of the succession of events, thinking only of
carrying himself with a lofty disregard of everything. He went
where he was pushed, and followed where he was led, like a
whirling wind, like a feather tossed about, like the revolutions
of a grindstone.
What was the reason that he appeared thus complete, doing
nothing wrong? that, whether in motion or at rest, he committed
no error, and could be charged with no transgression? Creatures
that have no knowledge are free from the troubles that arise
from self-assertion and the entanglements that spring from the
use of knowledge. Moving and at rest they do not depart from
their proper course, and all their life long they do not receive
any praise. Hence (Shän Tâo) said, 'Let me come to be like a
creature without knowledge. Of what use are the (teachings of
the) sages and worthies?' But a clod of earth never fails in the
course (proper for it), and men of spirit and eminence laughed
together at him, and said, 'The way of Shän Tâo does not
describe the conduct of living men; that it should be predicable
only of the dead is strange indeed!'
It was just the same with Thien Phien. He learned under Phäng
Mäng, but it was as if he were not taught at all. The master of
Phäng Mäng said, 'The Tâoist professors of old came no farther
than to say that nothing was absolutely right and nothing
absolutely wrong.' His spirit was like the breath of an opposing
wind; how can it be described in words? But he was always
contrary to (the views of) other men, which he would not bring
together to view, and he did not escape shaving the corners and
bonds (of which I have spoken). What he called the Tâo was not
the true Tâo, and what he called the right was really the wrong
Phäng Mäng, Thien Phien, and Shin Tâo did not in fact know the
Tâo; but nevertheless they had heard in a general way about it.
5
To take the root (from which things spring) as the essential
(part), and the things as its coarse (embodiment); to see
deficiency in accumulation; and in the solitude of one's
individuality to dwell with the spirit-like and
intelligent;--such a course belonged to the Tâo of antiquity,
and it was appreciated by Kwan Yin and Lâo Tan. When they heard
of such ways, they were delighted with them. They built their
system on the assumption of an eternal non-existence, and made
the ruling idea in it that of the Grand Unity. They made
weakness and humility their mark of distinction, and considered
that by empty vacuity no injury could be sustained, but all
things be preserved in their substantiality.
Kwan Yin says, 'To him who does not dwell in himself the forms
of things show themselves as they are. His movement is like that
of water; his stillness is like that of a mirror; his response
is like that of the echo. His tenuity makes him seem to be
disappearing altogether; he is still as a clear (lake),
harmonious in his association with others, and he counts gain as
loss. He does not take precedence of others, but follows them.'
Lâo Tan says, 'He knows his masculine power, but maintains his
female weakness,--becoming the channel into which all streams
flow. He knows his white purity, but keeps his
disgrace,--becoming the valley of the world. Men all prefer to
be first; he alone chooses to be last, saying, "I will receive
the offscourings of the world." Men all choose fulness; he alone
chooses emptiness. He does not store, and therefore he has a
superabundance; he looks solitary, but has a multitude around
him. In his conducting of himself he is easy and leisurely and
wastes nothing. He does nothing, and laughs at the clever and
ingenious. Men all seek for happiness, but he feels complete in
his imperfect condition, and says, "Let me only escape blame."
He regards what is deepest as his root, and what is most
restrictive as his rule; and says, "The strong is broken; the
sharp and pointed is blunted." He is always generous and
forbearing with others, and does not encroach on any man;--this
may be pronounced the height (of perfection).'
Kwan Yin, and Lâo Tan, ye were among the greatest men of
antiquity; True men indeed!
6
That the shadowy and still is without bodily form; that change
and transformation are ever proceeding, but incapable of being
determined. What is death? What is life? What is meant by the
union of Heaven and Earth? Does the spiritual intelligence go
away? Shadowy, where does it go? Subtle, whither does it
proceed? All things being arranged as they are, there is no one
place which can be fitly ascribed to it. Such were the questions
belonging to the scheme of Tâo in antiquity, and they were
appreciated by Kwang Kâu. When he heard of such subjects, he was
delighted with them. (He discussed them), using strange and
mystical expressions, wild and extravagant words, and phrases to
which no definite meaning could be assigned. He constantly
indulged his own wayward ideas, but did not make himself a
partisan, nor look at them as peculiar to himself. Considering
that men were sunk in stupidity and could not be talked to in
dignified style, he employed the words of the cup of endless
application, with important quotations to substantiate the
truth, and an abundance of corroborative illustrations. He
chiefly cared to occupy himself with the spirit-like operation
of heaven and earth, and did not try to rise above the myriads
of things. He did not condemn the agreements and differences of
others, so that he might live in peace with the prevalent views.
Though his writings may seem to be sparkling trifles, there is
no harm in amusing one's self with them; though his phraseology
be ever-varying, its turns and changes are worth being looked
at;--the fulness and completeness of his ideas cannot be
exhausted. Above he seeks delight in the Maker; below, he has a
friendly regard to those who consider life and death as having
neither beginning nor end. As regards his dealing with the Root
(origin of all things), he is comprehensive and great, opening
up new views, deep, vast, and free. As regards the Author and
Master (the Great Tâo Itself), he may be pronounced exact and
correct, carrying our thoughts to range and play on high.
Nevertheless on the subject of transformation, and the
emancipation of that from (the thraldom of) things, his
principles are inexhaustible, and are not derived from his
predecessors. They are subtle and obscure, and cannot be fully
explained.
7
Hui Shih had many ingenious notions. His writings would fill
five carriages; but his doctrines were erroneous and
contradictory, and his words were wide of their mark. Taking up
one thing after another, he would say:--'That which is so great
that there is nothing outside it may be called the Great One;
and that which is so small that there is nothing inside it may
be called the Small One.' 'What has no thickness and will not
admit of being repeated is 1000 lî in size.' 'Heaven may be as
low as the earth.' 'A mountain may be as level as a marsh.' 'The
sun in the meridian may be the sun declining.' 'A creature may
be born to life and may die at the same time.' '(When it is said
that) things greatly alike are different from things a little
alike, this is what is called making little of agreements and
differences; (when it is said that) all things are entirely
alike or entirely different, this is what is called making much
of agreements and differences.' 'The south is unlimited and yet
has a limit.' 'I proceed to Yueh to-day and came to it
yesterday.' 'Things which are joined together can be separated.'
'I know the centre of the world;--it is north of Yen or south of
Yueh.' 'If all things be regarded with love, heaven and earth
are of one body (with me).'
Hui Shih by such sayings as these made himself very conspicuous
throughout the kingdom, and was considered an able debater. All
other debaters vied with one another and delighted in similar
exhibitions. (They would say), 'There are feathers in an egg.'
'A fowl has three feet.' 'The kingdom belongs to Ying.' 'A dog
might have been (called) a sheep.' 'A tadpole has a tail.' 'Fire
is not hot.' 'A mountain gives forth a voice.' 'A wheel does not
tread on the ground.' 'The eye does not see.' 'The finger
indicates, but needs not touch, (the object).' 'Where you come
to may not be the end.' 'The tortoise is longer than the snake.'
'The carpenter's square is not square.' 'A compass should not
itself be round.' 'A chisel does not surround its handle.' 'The
shadow of a flying bird does not (itself) move.' 'Swift as the
arrowhead is, there is a time when it is neither flying nor at
rest.' 'A dog is not a hound.' 'A bay horse and a black ox are
three.' 'A white dog is black.' 'A motherless colt never had a
mother.' 'If from a stick a foot long you every day take the
half of it, in a myriad ages it will not be exhausted.'--It was
in this way that the debaters responded to Hui Shih, all their
lifetime, without coming to an end.
Hwan Twan and Kung-sun Lung were true members of this class. By
their specious representations they threw a glamour over men's
minds and altered their ideas. They vanquished men in argument,
but could not subdue their minds, only keeping them in the
enclosure of their sophistry. Hui Shih daily used his own
knowledge and the arguments of others to propose strange theses
to all debaters
such was his practice. At the same time he would talk freely of
himself, thinking himself the ablest among them, and saying, 'In
heaven or earth who is my match?' Shih maintained indeed his
masculine energy, but he had not the art (of controversy).
In the south there was a man of extraordinary views, named Hwang
Liâo, who asked him how it was that the sky did not fall nor the
earth sink, and what was the cause of wind, rain, and the
thunder's roll and crash. Shih made no attempt to evade the
questions, and answered him without any exercise of thought,
talking about all things, without pause, on and on without end;
yet still thinking that his words were few, and adding to them
the strangest observations. He thought that to contradict others
was a real triumph, and wished to make himself famous by
overcoming them; and on this account he was not liked by the
multitude of debaters. He was weak in real attainment, though he
might seem strong in comparison with others, and his way was
narrow and dark. If we look at Hui Shih's ability from the
standpoint of Heaven and Earth, it was only like the restless
activity of a mosquito or gadfly; of what service was it to
anything? To give its full development to any one capacity is a
good thing, and he who does so is in the way to a higher
estimation of the Tâo; but Hui Shih could find no rest for
himself in doing this. He diffused himself over the world of
things without satiety, till in the end he had only the
reputation of being a skilful debater. Alas! Hui Shih, with all
his talents, vast as they were, made nothing out; he pursued all
subjects and never came back (with success). It was like
silencing an echo by his shouting, or running a race with his
shadow. Alas! |