Our Master Lieh Tzu dwelt on a vegetable plot in the Chêng State for forty
years, and no man knew him for what he was. The Prince, his Ministers, and all
the State officials looked upon him as one of the common herd. A time of dearth
fell upon the State, and he was preparing to migrate to Wei, when his disciples
said to him: 'Now that our Master is going away without any prospect of
returning, we have ventured to approach you, hoping for instruction. Are there
no words from the lips of Hu-Ch'iu Tzu-lin that you can impart to us? Lieh Tzu
smiled and said: 'Do you suppose that Hu Tzu dealt in words? However, I will try
to repeat to you what my Master said on one occasion to Po-hun Mou-jên.
A fellow-disciple. Out of modesty, Lieh Tzu does not say that the teaching was
imparted directly to himself.
I was standing by and heard his words, which ran as, follows:--
"There is a Creative Principle which is itself uncreated; there is a
Principle of Change which is itself unchanging. The Uncreated is able to create
life; the Unchanging is
{p. 17}
able to effect change. That which is produced cannot but continue producing;
that which is evolved cannot but continue evolving. Hence there is constant
production and constant evolution. The law of constant production and of
constant evolution at no time ceases to operate.
The commentator says: 'That which is once involved in the destiny of living
things can never be annihilated.'
So is it with the Yin and the Yang, so is it with the Four Seasons.
The Yin and the Yang are the Positive and Negative Principles of Nature,
alternately predominating in day and night.
The Uncreated we may surmise to be Alone in itself.
'The Supreme, the Non-Engendered--how can its reality be proved? We can only
suppose that it is mysteriously One, without beginning and without end.'
The Unchanging goes to and fro, and its range is illimitable. We may surmise
that it stands Alone, and that its Ways are inexhaustible."
'In the Book of the Yellow Emperor it is written: "The Spirit of the Valley
dies not; it may be called the Mysterious Feminine. The issuing-point of the
Mysterious Feminine must be regarded as the Root of the Universe. Subsisting to
all eternity, it uses its force without effort."
The Book of the Yellow Emperor is no longer extant, but
{p. 18}
the above passage is now incorporated in the Tao Tê Ching, and attributed to
Lao Tzu.
'That, then, which engenders all things is itself unengendered; that by which
all things are evolved is itself untouched by evolution. Self-engendered and
self-evolved, it has in itself the elements of substance, appearance, wisdom,
strength, dispersion and cessation. Yet it would be a mistake to call it by any
one of these names.
* * *
The Master Lieh Tzu said: 'The inspired men of old regarded the Yin and the Yang
as controlling the sum total of Heaven and Earth. But that which has substance
is engendered from that which is devoid of substance; out of what then were
Heaven and Earth engendered?
'They were engendered out of nothing, and came into existence of themselves.'
'Hence we say, there is a great Principle of Change, a great Origin, a great
Beginning, a great Primordial Simplicity. In the great Change substance is not
yet main est. In the great Origin lies the beginning of substance. In the great
Beginning, lies the beginning of material form.
'After the separation of the Yin and the Yang, when classes of objects assume
their forms.'
In the great Simplicity lies the beginning of essential
{p. 18}
qualities. When substance, form and essential qualities are still
indistinguishably blended together it is called Chaos. Chaos means that all
things are chaotically intermixed and not yet separated from one another. The
purer and lighter elements, tending upwards, made the Heavens; the grosser and
heavier elements, tending downwards, made the Earth. Substance, harmoniously
proportioned, became Man; and, Heaven and Earth containing thus a spiritual
element, all things were evolved and produced.'
* * *
The Master Lieh Tzu said: 'The virtue of Heaven and Earth, the powers of the
Sage, and the uses of the myriad things in Creation, are not perfect in every
direction. It is Heaven's function to produce life and to spread a canopy over
it. It is Earth's function to form material bodies and to support them. It is
the Sage's function to teach others and to influence them for good. It is the
function of created things to conform to their proper nature. That being so,
there are things in which Earth may excel, though they lie outside the scope of
Heaven; matters in which the Sage has no concern, though they afford free play
to others. For it is clear that that which imparts and broods over life cannot
form and support material bodies; that which forms and supports material bodies
cannot teach and influence for good; one who teaches and influences for good
cannot run counter to natural instincts;
{p. 20}
that which is fixed in suitable environment does not travel outside its own
sphere. Therefore the Way of Heaven and Earth will be either of the Yin or of
the Yang; the teaching of the Sage will be either of altruism or of
righteousness; the quality of created objects will be either soft or hard. All
these conform to their proper nature and cannot depart from the province
assigned to them.'
* * *
On one hand, there is life, and on the other, there is that which produces life;
there is form, and there is that which imparts form; there is sound, and there
is that which causes sound; there is colour, and there is that which causes
colour; there is taste, and there is that which causes taste.
Things that have been endowed with life die; but that which produces life itself
never comes to an end. The origin of form is matter; but that which imparts form
has no material existence. The genesis of sound lies in the sense of hearing;
but that which causes sound is never audible to the car. The source of colour is
vision; but that which produces colour never manifests itself to the eye. The
origin of taste lies in the palate; but that which causes taste is never
perceived by that sense. All these phenomena are functions of the principle of
Inaction.
Wu Wei, Inaction, here stands for the inert, unchanging Tao.
{p. 21}
To be at will either bright or obscure, soft or hard, short or long, round or
square, alive or dead, hot or cold, buoyant or sinking, treble or bass, present
or absent, black or white, sweet or bitter, fetid or fragrant--this it is to be
devoid of knowledge, yet all-knowing, destitute of power, yet all-powerful.
Such is Tao.
* * *
On his journey to Wei, the Master Lieh Tzu took a meal by the roadside. His
followers espied an old skull, and pulled aside the undergrowth to show it to
him. Turning to his disciple Po Fêng, the Master said: 'That skull and I both
know that there is no such thing as absolute life or death.
'If we regard ourselves as passing along the road of evolution, then I am alive
and he is dead. But looked at from the standpoint of the Absolute, since there
is no such principle as life in itself, it follows that there can be no such
thing as death.'
This knowledge is better than all your methods of prolonging life, a more potent
source of happiness than any other.'
* * *
In the Book of the Yellow Emperor it is written: 'When form becomes active it
produces not form but
{p. 22}
shadow; when sound becomes active it produces not sound but echo.'
See note on p. 17. This passage does not occur in the Tao Tê Ching.
When Not-Being becomes active, it does not produce Not-Being but Being. Form is
something that must come to an end. Heaven and Earth, then, have an end, even as
we all have an end. But whether the end is complete we do not know.
'When there is conglomeration, form comes into being; when there is dispersion,
it comes to an end. That is what we mortals mean by beginning and end. But
although for us, in a state of conglomeration, this condensation into form
constitutes a beginning, and its dispersion an end, from the standpoint of
dispersion, it is void and calm that constitute the beginning, and condensation
into form the end. Hence there is perpetual alternation in what constitutes be
timing and end, and the underlying Truth is that there is neither any beginning
nor any end at all.'
The course of evolution ends where it started, without a beginning; it finishes
up where it began, in Not-Being.
A paradoxical way of stating that there is no beginning and no end.
That which has life returns again into the Lifeless; that which has form returns
again into the formless. This, that {p. 23} I call the Lifeless, is not the
original Lifelessness. This, that I call the formless, is not the original
Formlessness.
'That, which is here termed the Lifeless has formerly possessed life, and
subsequently passed into the extinction of death, whereas the original
Lifelessness from the beginning knows neither life nor extinction.' We have here
again the distinction between the unchanging life-giving Principle (Tao), which
is itself without life, and the living things themselves, which are in a
perpetual flux between life and death.
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 as to his
destiny.
The spiritual element in man is allotted to him by Heaven, his corporeal frame
by Earth. The part that belongs to Heaven 'is ethereal and dispersive, the part
that belongs to Earth is dense and tending to conglomeration. When the spirit
parts from the body, each of these elements resumes its true nature. That is why
disembodied spirits are called kuei, which means 'returning', that is, returning
to their true dwelling-place.
'The region of the Great Void.'
The Yellow Emperor said: 'If my spirit returns through the gates whence it came,
and my bones go back
{p. 24}
to the source from which they sprang, where does the Ego continue to exist?'
* * *
Between his birth and his latter end, man passes through four chief
stages-infancy, adolescence, old age and death. In infancy, the vital force is
concentrated, the will is undivided, and the general harmony of the system is
perfect. External objects produce no injurious impression, and to the moral
nature nothing can be added. In adolescence, the animal passions are wildly
exuberant, the heart is filled with rising desires and preoccupations. The man
is open to attack by the objects of sense, and thus his moral nature becomes
enfeebled. In old age, his desires and preoccupations have lost their keenness,
and the bodily frame seeks for repose. External objects no longer hold the first
place in his regard. In this state, though not attaining to the perfection of
infancy, he is already different from what he was in adolescence. In death, he
comes to his rest, and returns to the Absolute.
* * *
Confucius was travelling once over Mount T'ai when he caught sight of an aged
man roaming in the wilds. He was clothed in a deerskin, girded with a rope, and
was singing as he played on a lute. 'My friend,' said Confucius, 'what is it
that makes you so happy?' The old man replied: 'I have a great deal to make me
happy. God
{p. 25}
created all things, and of all His creations man is the noblest. It has fallen
to my lot to be a man: that is my first ground for happiness. Then, there is a
distinction between male and female, the former being rated more highly than the
latter. Therefore it is better to be a male; and since I am one, I have a second
ground for happiness. Furthermore, some are born who never behold the sun or the
moon, and who never emerge from their swaddling-clothes. But I have already
walked the earth for the space of ninety years. That is my third ground for
happiness. Poverty is the normal lot of the scholar, death the appointed end for
all human beings. Abiding in the normal state, and reaching at last the
appointed end, what is there that should make me unhappy? ;What an excellent
thing it is,' cried Confucius, 'to be able to find a source of consolation in
oneself!'
* * *
Tzu Kung was tired of study, and confided his feelings to Confucius, saying: 'I
yearn for rest.' Confucius replied: 'In life there is no rest.'
'To toil in anxious planning for the future, to slave in bolstering up the
bodily frame--these are the businesses of life.'
'Is rest, then, nowhere to be found? 'Oh yes!' replied Confucius; 'look at all
the graves in the wilds, all the vaults, all the tombs, all the funeral urns,
and you may
{p. 26}
know where rest is to be found.' 'Great, indeed, is Death!' exclaimed Tzu Kung.
'It gives rest to the noble hearted, and causes the base to cower.' 'You are
right,' said Confucius. 'Men feel the joy of life, but do not realize its
bitterness. They feel the weariness of old age, but not its peacefulness. They
think of the evils of death, but not of the repose which it confers.'
* * *
Yen Tzu said: 'How excellent was the ancients' view of death!--bringing rest to
the good and subjection to the wicked. Death is the boundary-line of Virtue.
That is, Death abolishes all artificial and temporary distinctions between good
and evil, which only hold good in this world of relativity.
'The ancients spoke of the dead as kuei-jên (men who have returned). But if the
dead are men who have returned, the living are men on a journey. Those who are
on a journey and think not of returning have cut themselves off from their home.
Should any one man cut himself off from his home, he would incur universal
reprobation. But all mankind being homeless, there is none to see the error.
Imagine one who leaves his native village, separates himself from all his kith
and kin, dissipates his patrimony and wanders away to the four corners of the
earth, never to return:--what manner of man is this? The world will surely set
him down as a
{p. 27}
profligate and a vagabond. On the other hand, imagine one who clings to
respectability and the things of this life, holds cleverness and capacity in
high esteem, builds himself up a reputation, and plays the braggart amongst his
fellow men without knowing where to stop:--what manner of man, once more, is
this? The world will surely look upon him as a gentleman of great wisdom and
counsel. Both of these men have lost their way, yet the world will consort with
the one, and not with the other. Only the Sage knows with whom to consort and
from whom to hold aloof.'
'He consorts with those who regard life and death merely as waking and sleeping,
and holds aloof from those who are steeped in forgetfulness of their return.'
* * *
Yü Hsiung said: 'Evolution is never-ending. But who can perceive the secret
processes of Heaven and Earth? Thus, things that are diminished here are
augmented there; things that are made whole in one place suffer loss in another.
Diminution and augmentation, fullness and decay are the constant accompaniments
of life and death. They alternate in continuous succession, and we are not
conscious of any interval. The whole body of spiritual substance progresses
without a pause; the whole body of material substance suffers decay without
intermission. But we do not perceive the process of completion, nor do we
perceive the process of decay. Map, likewise, from
{p. 28}
birth to old age becomes something different every day in face and form, in
wisdom and in conduct. His skin, his nails and his hair are continually growing
and continually perishing. In infancy and childhood there is no stopping nor
respite from change. Though imperceptible while it is going on, it may be
verified afterwards if we wait.'
* * *
There was once a man in the Ch'i State who was so afraid the universe would
collapse and fall to pieces, leaving his body without a lodgment, that he could
neither sleep nor eat. Another man, pitying his distress, went to enlighten him.
'Heaven,' he said, 'is nothing more than an accumulation of ether, and there is
no place where ether is not. Processes of contraction and expansion, inspiration
and expiration arc continually taking place up in the heavens. Why then should
you be afraid of a collapse?' The man said: 'It is true that Heaven is an
accumulation of ether; but the sun, the moon, and the stars--will they not fall
down upon us? His informant replied: 'Sun, moon and stars are likewise only
bright lights Within this mass of ether. Even supposing they were to fall, they
could not possibly harm us by their impact.' 'But what if the earth should fall
to pieces? 'The earth,' replied the other, 'is merely an agglomeration of
matter, which fills and blocks up the four comers of space. There is no part of
it where matter is not. All
{p. 29}
day long there is constant treading and tramping on the surface of the earth.
Why then should you be afraid of its falling to pieces? Thereupon the man was
relieved of his fears and rejoiced exceedingly. And his instructor was also
joyful and easy in mind. But Ch'ang Lu Tzu laughed at them both, saying: 'Rainbows,
clouds and mist, wind and rain, the four seasons--these are perfected forms of
accumulated ether, and go to make up the heavens. Mountains and cliffs, rivers
and seas, metals and rocks, fire and timber--these are perfected forms of
agglomerated matter, and constitute the earth. Knowing these facts, who can say
that they will never be destroyed? Heaven and earth form only a small speck in
the midst of the Void, but they are the greatest things in the sum of Being.
This much is certain: even as their nature is hard to fathom, hard to understand,
so they will be slow to pass away, slow to come to an end. He who fears lest
they should suddenly fall to pieces is assuredly very far from the truth. He, on
the other hand, who says that they will never be destroyed has also not reached
the right solution. Heaven and earth must of necessity pass away, but neither
will revert to destruction apart from the other.
The speaker means that though there is no immediate danger of a collapse, it is
certain that our universe must obey the natural law of disintegration, and at
some distant date disappear altogether. But the process of decay will be so
gradual as to be imperceptible.
{p. 30}
Who, having to face the day of disruption, would not be alarmed?
The Master Lieh Tzu heard of the discussion, and smiling said: 'He who maintains
that Heaven and earth are destructible, and he who upholds the contrary, are
both equally at fault. Whether they are destructible or not is something we can
never know, though in both cases it will be the same for all alike. The living
and the dead, the going and the coming, know nothing of each other's state.
Whether destruction awaits the world or no, why should I trouble my head about
it?
* * *
Mr Kuo of the Ch'i State was very rich, while Mr Hsiang of the Sung State was
very poor. The latter travelled from Sung to Ch'i and asked the other for the
secret of his prosperity. Mr Kuo told him. 'It is because I am a good thief,' he
said. 'The first year I began to be a thief, I had just enough. The second year,
I had ample. The third year, I reaped a great harvest. And, in course of time, I
found myself the owner of whole villages and districts.' Mr Hsiang was overjoyed;
he understood the word 'thief' in its literal sense, but he did not understand
the true way of becoming a thief. Accordingly, he climbed over walls and broke
into houses, grabbing everything he could see or lay hands upon. But before very
long his thefts brought him into trouble, and he was stripped even of what he
had previously possessed. Thinking
{p. 31}
that Mr Kuo had basely deceived him, Hsiang went to him with a bitter complaint.
'Tell me,' said Mr Kuo, 'how did you set about being a thief?' On learning from
Mr Hsiang what had happened, he cried out: 'Alas and alack! You have been
brought to this pass because you went the wrong way to work. Now let me put you
on the right track. We all know that Heaven has its seasons, and that earth has
its riches. Well, the things that I steal are the riches of Heaven and earth,
each in their season--the fertilizing rain-water from the clouds, and the
natural products of mountain and meadow-land. Thus I grow my grain and ripen my
crops, build my walls and construct my tenements. From the dry land I steal
winged and four-footed game, from the rivers I steal fish and turtles. There is
nothing that I do not steal. For corn and grain, clay and wood, birds and beasts,
fishes and turtles are all products of Nature. How can I claim them as mine?
It will be observed that Lieh Tzu anticipates here, in a somewhat different
sense, Proudhon's famous paradox: 'La propriété c'est le vol.'
'Yet, stealing in this way from Nature, I bring on myself no retribution. But
gold, jade, and precious stones, stores of grain, silk stuffs, and other kinds
of property, are things accumulated by men, not bestowed upon us by Nature. So
who can complain if he gets into trouble by stealing them?
{p. 32}
Mr Hsiang, in a state of great perplexity, and fearing to be led astray a second
time by Mr Kuo, went off to consult Tung Kuo, a man of learning. Tung Kuo said
to him: 'Are you not already a thief in respect of your own body? You are
stealing the harmony of the Yin and the Yang in order to keep alive and to
maintain your bodily form. How much more, then, are you a thief with regard to
external possessions! Assuredly, Heaven and earth cannot be dissociated from the
myriad objects of Nature. To claim any one of these as your own betokens
confusion of thought. Mr Kuo's thefts are carried out in a spirit of justice,
and therefore bring no retribution. But your thefts were carried out in a spirit
of self-seeking and therefore landed you in trouble. Those who take possession
of property, whether public or private, are thieves.
By 'taking possession of public property', as we have seen, Lieh Tzu means
utilizing the products of Nature open to all--rain and the like.
Those who abstain from taking property, public or private, are also thieves.
'For no one can help possessing a body, and no one can help acquiring some
property or other which cannot be got rid of with the best will in the world.
Such thefts are unconscious thefts.'
The great principle of Heaven and earth is to treat public property as such and
private property as such. Knowing
{p. 33}
this principle, which of us is a thief, and at the same time which of us is not
a thief?'
The object of this anecdote is to impress us with the unreality of mundane
distinctions. Lieh Tzu is not much interested in the social aspect of the
question. He is not an advocate of communism, nor does he rebel against the
common-sense view that theft is a crime which must be punished. With him,
everything is intended to lead up to the metaphysical standpoint.
{p. 34}