Dem englischen Text liegt die Übersetzung von Lionel Giles aus dem Jahr 1912 zugrunde. Die Quelle ist sacred-texts.com.
The history of Taoist philosophy may be conveniently divided into three
stages: the primitive stage, the stage of development, and the stage of
degeneration. The first of these stages is only known to us through the medium
of a single semi-historical figure, the philosopher Lao Tzu, whose birth is
traditionally assigned to the year 604 B.C. Some would place the beginnings of
Taoism much earlier than this, and consequently regard Lao Tzu rather as an
expounder than as the actual founder of the system; just as Confucianism--that
is, a moral code based on filial piety and buttressed by altruism and
righteousness--may be said to have flourished long before Confucius. The two
cases, however, are somewhat dissimilar. The teachings of Lao Tzu, as preserved
in the Tao Tê Ching, are not such as one can easily imagine being handed down
from generation to generation among the people at large. The principle on which
they are based is simple enough, but their application to everyday life is
surrounded by difficulties. it is hazardous to assert that any great system of
philosophy has sprung from the brain of one man; but the assertion is probably
as true of Taoism as of any other body of speculation.
Condensed into a single phrase, the injunction of Lao {p. 10} Tzu to mankind is,
'Follow Nature.' This is a good practical equivalent for the Chinese expression,
'Get hold of Tao', although 'Tao' does not exactly correspond to the word
Nature, as ordinarily used by us to denote the sum of phenomena in this
ever-changing universe. It seems to me, however, that the conception of Tao must
have been reached, originally, through this channel. Lao Tzu, interpreting the
plain facts of Nature before his eyes, concludes that behind her manifold
workings there exists an ultimate Reality which in its essence is unfathomable
and unknowable, yet manifests itself in laws of unfailing regularity. To this
Essential Principle, this Power underlying the sensible phenomena of Nature, he
gives, tentatively and with hesitation, the name of Tao, 'the Way', though fully
realizing the inadequacy of any name to express the idea of that which is beyond
all power of comprehension.
A foreigner, imbued with Christian ideas, naturally feels inclined to substitute
for Tao the term by which he is accustomed to denote the Supreme Being--God. But
this is only admissible if he is prepared to use the term 'God' in a much
broader sense than we find in either the Old or the New Testament. That which
chiefly impresses the Taoist in the operations of Nature is their absolute
impersonality. The inexorable law of cause and effect seems to him equally
removed from active goodness or benevolence on the one hand, and from active c
or malevolence on the other. This is a fact which
{p. 11}
will hardly be disputed by any intelligent observer. It is when he begins to
draw inferences from it that the Taoist parts company from the average
Christian. Believing, as he does, that the visible Universe is but a
manifestation of the invisible Power behind It, he feels justified in arguing
from the known to the unknown, and concluding that, whatever Tao may be in
itself (which is unknowable), it is certainly not what we understand by a
personal God--not a God endowed with the specific attributes of humanity, not
even (and here we find a remarkable anticipation of Hegel) a conscious God. In
other words, Tao transcends the illusory and unreal distinctions on which all.
human systems of morality depend, for in it all virtues and vices coalesce into
One.
The Christian takes a different view altogether. He prefers to ignore the facts
which Nature shows him, or else he reads them in an arbitrary and one-sided
manner. His God, if no longer anthropomorphic, is undeniably anthropopathic. He
is a personal Deity, now loving and merciful, now irascible and jealous, a Deity
who is open to prayer and entreaty. With qualities such as these, it is
difficult to see how he can be regarded as anything but a glorified Man. Which
of these two views--the Taoist or the Christian--it is best for mankind to hold,
may be a matter of dispute. There can be no doubt which is the more logical.
The weakness of Taoism lies in its application to the conduct of life. Lao Tzu
was not content to be a
{p. 12}
metaphysician merely, he aspired to be a practical reformer as well. It was
man's business, he thought, to model himself as closely as possible on the great
Exemplar, Tao. It follows as a matter of course that his precepts are mostly of
a negative order, and we are led straight to the doctrine of Passivity or
Inaction, which was bound to be fatally misunderstood and perverted. Lao Tzu's
teaching has reached us, if not in its original form, yet in much of its native
purity, in the Tao Tê Ching. One of the most potent arguments for the high
antiquity of this marvellous little treatise is that it shows no decided trace
of the corruption which is discernible in the second of our periods, represented
for us by the writings of Lieh Tzu and Chuang Tzu. I have called it the period
of development because of the extraordinary quickening and blossoming of the
buds of Lao Tzu's thought in the supple and imaginative minds of these two
philosophers. The canker, alas! is already at the heart of the flower; but so
rich and luxuriant is the feast of colour before us that we hardly notice it as
yet.
Very little is known of our author beyond what he tells us himself. His full
name was Lieh Yü-k'ou, and it appears that he was living in the Chêng State
not long before the year 398 B.C., when the Prime Minister Tzu Yang was killed
in a revolution (see p. 101). He figures prominently in the pages of Chuang Tzu,
from whom we learn that he could 'ride upon the wind'.[1] On the
[1. He is thus depicted in the design on the cover of this volume, taken from an
illustrated work on Ink-tablets.]
{p. 13}
insufficient ground that he is not mentioned by the historian Ssu-ma Ch'ien, a
certain critic of the Sung dynasty was led to declare that Lieh Tzu was only a
fictitious personage invented by Chuang Tzu, and that the treatise which passes
under his name was a forgery of later times. This theory is rejected by the
compilers of the great Catalogue of Ch'ien Lung's Library, who represent the
cream of Chinese scholarship in the eighteenth century.
Although Lieh Tzu's work has evidently passed through the hands of many editors
and gathered numerous accretions, there remains a considerable nucleus which in
all probability was committed to writing by Lieh Tzu's immediate disciples, and
is therefore older than the genuine parts of Chuang Tzu. There are some obvious
analogies between the two authors, and indeed a certain amount of matter common
to both; but on the whole Lieh Tzu's book bears an unmistakable impress of its
own. The geniality of its tone contrasts with the somewhat hard brilliancy of
Chuang Tzu, and a certain kindly sympathy with the aged, the poor and the humble
of this life, not excluding the brute creation, makes itself felt throughout.
The opposition between Taoism and Confucianism is not so sharp as we find it in
Chuang Tzu, and Confucius himself is treated with much greater respect. This
alone is strong evidence in favour of the priority of Lieh Tzu, for there is no
doubt that the breach between the two systems widened as time went on. Lieh
Tzu's work is about half as long as Chuang Tzu's, and is now divided into eight
{p. 14}
books. The seventh of these deals exclusively with the doctrine of the egoistic
philosopher Yang Chu, and has therefore been omitted altogether from the present
selection.
Nearly all the Taoist writers are fond of parables and allegorical tales, but in
none of them is this branch of literature brought to such perfection as in Lieh
Tzu, who surpasses Chuang Tzu himself as a master of anecdote. His stories are
almost invariably pithy and pointed. Many of them evince not only a keen sense
of dramatic effect, but real insight into human nature. Others may appear
fantastic and somewhat wildly imaginative. The story of the man who issued out
of solid rock (p. 47) is a typical one of this class. It ends, however, with a
streak of ironical humour which may lead us to doubt whether Lieh Tzu himself
really believed in the possibility of transcending natural laws. His soberer
judgment appears in other passages, like the following: 'That which has life
must by the law of its being come to an end; and the end can no more be avoided
than the living creature can help having been born. So that he who hopes to
perpetuate his life or to shut out death is deceived in his calculations.' That
leaves little doubt as to the light in which Lieh Tzu would have regarded the
later Taoist speculations on the elixir of life. Perhaps the best solution of
the problem is the theory I have already mentioned: that the 'Lieh Tzu' which we
possess now, while containing a solid and authentic core of the Master's own
teaching, has been
{p. 15}
overlaid with much of the decadent Taoism of the age that followed.
of this third period little need be said here. It is represented in literature
by the lengthy treatise of Huai-nan Tzu, the spurious episodes in Lieh Tzu and
Chuang Tzu, and a host of minor writers, some of whom tried to pass off their
works as the genuine relics of ancient sages. Chang Chan, an officer of the
Banqueting Court under the Eastern Chin dynasty (fourth century A.D.), is the
author of the best commentary on Lieh Tzu; extracts from it, placed between
inverted commas, will be found in the following pages. In the time of Chang
Chan, although Taoism as a philosophical system had long run its course, its
development into a national religion was only just beginning, and its subsequent
influence on literature and art is hardly to be over-estimated. It supplied the
elements of mystery, romance and colour which were needed as a set-off against
the uncompromising stiffness of the Confucian ideal. For reviving and
incorporating in itself the floating mass of folklore and mythology which had
come down from the earliest ages, as well as for the many exquisite creations of
its own fancy, it deserves the lasting gratitude of the Chinese people.
{p. 16}