Tao

IN a former number of this magazine,¹ the teaching embodied in the Upanishads of the Vedânta was considered in the respect of its applicability and helpfulness to the spiritual life and advancement of the present time. It is here purposed to survey the doctrines of the ancient Tao of the Chinese, as expounded by Lao-tze and Chuang-tze, from the same point of view and with the same object; that is, to see how far the moral and intellectual bases there laid down may he made useful or subservient to the higher or spiritual education of the age in which we live, or serve to throw light on those problems which have perplexed and baffled the most thoughtful of the race at all times in the effort to reach a complete solution of their difficulties. We must not consider this search to be entirely vain and wasted. It is true, it is not possible for the finite to attain a knowledge of the Infinite. Neither is it possible for the creature of time to find out the nature of the Eternal in its absoluteness. Nevertheless, glimpses may be gained of that which is external to ourselves by projecting the mind beyond the region of the senses, whereby may be discerned the links and lines, as it were, of the “golden chain “ by which “the world is bound about the feet of God,"— “ glimpses which may make us less forlorn,” as at least disclosing to us the fact that we are the offspring of the Eternal Infinite, and may hope, therefore, some time to enter into the counsels of the Most High, of whom and in whom we have our life and being; to which issue, indeed, our present mundane life may be considered the necessary training and preparatory education.

Taoism is a testimony to the unity of that transcendent teaching which has been a formative agent in the development of the race from the remotest ages. A careful survey will show us that similar lines have always been pursued, diverse in name, different in form, but always essentially identical in principle. The raising of the human soul to the divine standard is the fundamental element in all of them, and this is to be accomplished by seizing those supreme indications, those incipient germs of unconditioned life and being, the rudiments, as it were, of a divine origin, which are found, indicated by unmistakable aspirations, within all of us, and are capable of being expanded and developed to an unlimited degree, joining us to the Infinite Eternal, — the infallible signs that we are ourselves of the same nature and substance. Materialistic science will strive in vain to crush these out of us; they are a part of our very being, and, however often repressed and shorn, will again and again burst forth, like the spring growth of a denuded wood. They answer to an irrepressible law, like that which governs the inflowing tide ; appearing to retire sometimes, but really steadily advancing with constant and irresistible progress. This lies at the heart of the true evolution of being, the dawn of that incoming light which must and will shine more and more to the perfect day. I think it is by such a concentration or sharpening of the inward gaze that the most of what is called revelation arises. Nothing is ever changed in the Eternal Purpose and Being, no new manifestation made ; only the eyes are opened, the spiritual nature awakened, to a clearer perception of that which has always existed within and around us. “ What object does a lighted lamp reveal to a blind man though he hold it on his hand ? ” asks the Oriental sage. What clearness of divine truth can penetrate the closed mind of the sensuous materialist ? All that every form of revelation has shown us existed from the first ages undiscovered in the human soul, and it is only there we shall find it now. The religions or philosophies of the world — I mean those typical ones which have found an affirmative response or confirmative acceptance in the human mind — are but as the facets of a diamond, each presenting a single illuminative point, but all sparkling from the same jewel, all revealing the same inward source of light and beauty, all reflecting the same glorious sun from which their splendor is derived.

The view of Taoism here presented will be that of the original expounders of its tenets regarded in the light of a philosophical system, and not that of the modern form passing under its name, which, I believe, hears no resemblance to it, — is in fact but a travestied anamorphosis of degraded empiricism unworthy of the name of either philosophy or religion.

Tao simply means the Way. Lao-tze was the accredited founder of the system it expounds. He flourished in the sixth century B. C. ; his successor, Chuang-tze, two or three centuries later. The teaching of the former was much expanded and diversified by the latter. There have been several translations of the works of both these philosophers into the English tongue, but it will be sufficient here to mention two versions of the text with which the English-speaking reader will have every reason to be satisfied: one by Mr. Herbert A. Giles, published by B. Quaritch, 1889 ; and the other by Professor James Legge, in the series of the Sacred Books of the East, vols. 39 and 40. Perhaps the latter may he the more soberly literal, as the former is more pointed and epigrammatic; but the wise student will provide himself with both versions, and study them carefully together.

In considering the religio-philosophy of the Taoist, one must turn from the concrete philosophies of the present time, and place one’s self before the purely abstract and unconditioned; and if we would understand it fairly, we must read considerably between the lines of its expositors, and not take their figurative statements too literally. In his peculiar line of thinking and from his particular point of view, the Chinese sage of ancient days has certainly placed himself in advance of all schools and philosophies. With emancipated daring be bursts through the limitations of the senses, and sees an infinite universe before him. Like the wild ass described in the book of Job, "he scorneth the multitude of the city, neither regardeth he the crying of the driver.”He shakes off the shackles of life and time, and soars to the dimension.” He penetrates the inscrutable, be feels the impalpable, he cognizes the unknowable. Partially discerned, imperfectly grasped, dimly discovered, he nevertheless is aware of that which he seeks, of that which in his inmost soul he distinctly apprehends. He not only feels it must be, but he holds the interior witness of the higher sense and perception that it positively is so.

To give a general view of the teachings of Taoism is exceedingly difficult, as it recognizes no restrictive formula, proceeds upon no logical thesis. Its significance may be indicated by the attempt to reach the normal or elemental constitution of the primary mind in its unpostulated fullness and unconditioned freedom. It presupposes the transcendental state, an abiding in absolute being, and not in the circumstantial one of concrete action. In this light and aspect, it is not only an intelligible, but also a practical doctrine. The essential force of its appeal lies in that of being something, and not of doing something independently, as action alone.

The truth is that Tao represents in a great measure an ideal state, which can no more be realized actually and completely than that of the Ideal of Plato, or than that of absolute Christian perfection. It must remain, as every religion must remain that would “ erect ourselves above ourselves,” an aspiration rather than a realization whilst in the domain of the body. Taoism sets before it as its ideal the Law upon which growth and development. are based, just as Nature illustrates her central idea in the symmetrical form of a crystal or the geometric distribution of the petals of a flower; not exact in detail, but indicating uniformity of conceptional principle. Regarded, therefore, from the outside, Tao may be said to be indefinable, even inconceivable within any definite or formal lines. Thus we have the famous saying of the founder, “ Those who know do not speak; those who speak do not know. “ Tao seeks to act on the easy principles upon which Nature works, to select spontaneously without labor or difficulty, and to grow without effort; to enter into Law, in fact, and then to resign conscious effort. The poet Wordsworth was not far from the spirit of Taoism when he wrote the following verses : —

I should like to borrow another illustration of the spirit of Taoism from a modern writer : —

“ It is a sad substitute when, in later years, the native insight is replaced by the sharp foresight, and we compute with wisdom the way which we should take in love. Are we never to blend the fresh heart of childhood and the large mind of age, and so recover the lost harmonies of life ? ” ²

This is exactly what Taoism attempts to do in recurring to those primitive instincts lying at the bottom of the soul, ready to be disinterred, or, as the poet says, “ waiting to be born.” Its maxims were approximated by David the Psalmist when he said, “ Be still, and know that I am God,” and by Isaiah when he wrote, “ Their strength is to sit still. “ It is yet further illustrated by the saying of Jesus Christ, “ The kingdom of heaven is within you.” It adopts the Scriptural Mary’s part, and serves by waiting. It is strange that the translator of Laotze’s Aphorisms in the Sacred Books of the East should be continually seeking, in his notes, for an exact definition of the term Tao. Can we give a definition of the law which we call the Attraction of Gravitation, of that of the pulsation of the animal frame, of the vitality by which we are everywhere surrounded, of the myriad-fold activities and energies which govern the universe ? All we can do is to point to observed indications and effects; of the laws themselves we know nothing. Though not to be defined, yet their existence is unquestionable. We live by them. Let knowledge stop at the knowable,” says Chuang-tze; “ that is perfection.”

The Taoist is content to hold in an inclusive form that which he can neither analyze nor define, knowing it to be a reality. He says all our knowledge is based upon and supported by ignorance. “ It is the ground you do not tread upon which supports you.” Reaching fundamental sources, we come to an impenetrable barrier, as far as our senses and means of inquiry go. To accept unquestioningly the unknowable fact is one of the first principles of Taoism. Herein the Taoist shows his wisdom. He wastes no energy, and does not cover himself with the fool’s garment of empty words.

Tao indicates the Supreme Power; but more. It dwells upon no personality. It is the Spirit of the universe, the all-acting Supreme Force. It is energy without effort. It is Nature in repose containing all forms of activity. It is unpredicated Being. It is the IT IS of the Vedânta, the I AM of the Bible. “ The law of the Tao,” says Lao-tze, ‘“is its being what it is.” He can get no nearer to its definition. It is the ultimate thought, the essence of speech. It dwells in the abode of Silence, unuttered in solitude, spoken in the crowd; but unuttered or spoken is still the same. It lived before the world, and will not die with it. Figures and tropes must fail to convey it, but it inheres in all. It is only by paradoxes that it can be indicated, yet these fail to express it: they appeal only to the apprehensive faculty of the seeker, by the means of which it may be discovered. It is to be understood by appropriation, and in no other way.

We must apologize to the reader for this string of apparently anomalous and self-contradictory statements. They are in the true spirit of Taoism. He will know better what they mean when he has read through the following illustrations drawn from the textbooks of its exponents. Its teaching is quietistic. It appeals to the instinct of goodness rather than to rules of conduct; indeed, it decries and despises the latter. “ Use the light that is in you,” says Lao-tze, “ to revert to your natural clearness of light;” and in that saying is contained the great secret; it tells you all of Taoism which words can convey.

Let me try, in a few words, if it be at the risk of some little repetition, to sum up the doctrine, stated or implied, of the expounders of Tao. It may be set down as follows : —

Live in the fact, not in reasoning and talking about it. Do not seek to prove a sphere is round or a cube square; for this only leads to disputation and contradiction. Accept that which is unquestioningly. Be content with the central reality, and do not potter over accidents and accessories. A right-angled triangle is not the more regular in its proportion for being demonstrated and proved so. The functions of the corporeal frame would be impeded if we were conscious of their operation. They should not be questioned, but accepted. This, after all, is true knowledge ; and surely it is a great teaching if it be properly and reasonably received. As an instance of the contrary, modern ecclesiasticism may be taken. “ Love God and your neighbor,”says Jesus Christ, “ for this is the law and the prophets.” But how is this simple teaching obscured by the thousands of books written and published, and the millions of discourses preached on the subject, together with the ordering and regulation of the various churches, not one of which accepts, or even accredits, the doctrine in its integrity! So little is the teaching of the Founder of Christianity accepted that love to all, nonpossession, self-abandonment, — the very essentials and most vital points, — are utterly overlooked, disregarded, and forgotten in every form of church calling itself Christian known to me. Supposing all those persons now busied in teaching and preaching this pseudo-form of religion falsely called “ Christian ” were occupied in living the Christian life up to its just standard in all its relationships, how would the face of society become transformed ! Personal aggrandizement and well being to the exclusion of others would not rule the world, nor foolish wars shock the universe. Peace and love would prevail, and this rolling globe, instead of being an unsocial and discordant bear-garden and battle-ground, would become a paradise for terrestrials, and the better and higher life would loom out, not as a conjectured and questionable possibility, but as an accomplished fact, a life proved in the living. There would he no need to say anything ; the good, the Christian life realized would be the best instructor, the most efficacious teacher. This is Taoism.

The condition of mind signified by Tao is by no means confined to the Chinese of a remote period, but has been known at various times and in various places, though not taking the same name and form. Some schools of thinkers of modern times have been led to adopt its tenets without being aware of their antiquity. For why ? Because, as has been already stated, it is a mode of regarding things which has its raison d’être in the bases of our being. Madame Guyon says of the soul which has attained the Divine Life, “ It seems to itself to do neither right nor wrong, but it lives satisfied, peaceful, doing what it is made to do in a steady and resolute manner.” And this is the aim of the Taoist. Many instances might he given from more recent writers of the Western world, showing that, after all, the Taoistic doctrine is not so far from modern lines of thinking as at first sight might appear. Some of these will be referred to in the sequel.

We will proceed to illustrate the Taoist doctrine by a more particular examination of the writings of the two exponents above mentioned, commencing with the Aphorisms of Lao-tze. He opens his tractate by an apparent paradox : —

“ The Tao, or way, that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao. The name that can he named is not the enduring and unchanging name.

“ Conceived of as having no name, it is the Originator of heaven and earth ; conceived of as having a name, it is the Mother of all things.

“Under these two aspects, it is really the same, but as development takes place it receives the different names.”

That is to say, the mundane, conditioned existence is not aspectually the same as the eternal one, — is only a Symbol, figure, or result of it. They both come under the term “ existence; ” but the one is essentially unchangeable, the other is temporary and changeable. Existence considered in the abstract is the origin of all things, — Divine Existence, in our terminology. Postulated, or concrete, existence — active, creative energy in its manifestation — becomes the “ Mother,” or inceptor, of all things, and can, therefore, be distinguished by name according to its course and kind.

In the following Aphorisms we have an excellent lesson in that unselfishness which relinquishes personal advantage for the good of others, exactly in accord with the Gospel doctrine of a retiring modesty which sees something better than the obtrusion of the individual :—

“ Heaven is long-enduring, and earth continues long. The reason why heaven and earth are able to endure and continue thus long is because they do not live of or for themselves. This is how they are able to continue and endure.

“ Therefore the sage puts his own person last, and yet it is found in the foremost place ; he treats his person as if it were foreign to him, and yet that person is preserved. Is it not because he has no personal and private ends that therefore such ends are realized ? ”

Even Tao, the outflowing creative energy, is not allowed any self-gratulation, but is purely disinterested. Witness the following : —

“All things are produced by the Tao, and nourished by its outflowing operation. They receive their forms according to the nature of each, and are completed according to the circumstances of their condition. Therefore all things, without exception, honor the Tao and exalt its outflowing operation. It produces them, and makes no claim to the possession of them ; it carries them through their processes, and does not vaunt its ability in doing so; it brings them to maturity, and exercises no control over them : this is called its mysterious operation,”

The “ mystery ” of this operation is that everything in nature takes place without external coercion or compulsion ; everything is directed by internal propulsion, acting as it were spontaneously, and at the same time disinterestedly, as regards the manifestation of its individual energy. And it is this disinterestedness which we are called upon to imitate. Thus great deeds are to be wrought for their own sake; for they can only be entirely effective under the condition of pure unselfishness.

I believe that Taoism has the distinction of having given the first utterance to that notable Gospel tenet, Recompense injury with kindness, though it does not enforce it with the loving prescription of the Sermon on the Mount. “ To those who are good to me,” says Lao-tze, “I am good ; and to those who are not good to me. I am also good. — and thus all get to be good. To those who are sincere with me, I am sincere ; and to those who are not sincere with me, I am also sincere, — and thus all get to be sincere.”

A great stumbling-block to the Western mind is the teaching of Lao-tze in the assertion that the true Taoist is invulnerable ; that the rhinoceros can find no place in him in which to thrust its horn, nor the tiger its claw, nor the warrior his spear. “ And for what reason ? ” asks the teacher. “ Because there is in him no place of death.” One would think such language in the mouth of an Oriental could hardly he mistaken. Of course it is figurative, and simply means that as the Taoist has relinquished the mortal condition in choice and will, and taken up his abode with the Eternal, — become transmuted into it, — he is no longer the sport of Time, or liable to Time’s casualties, since he knows that he holds a life which Time cannot touch, and that his being is one with that of the universe.

Both Lao-tze and his follower disclaim that kind of knowledge which overlays the natural faculties of the mind and would bury them in academic scholarship ; they ignore even those activities in the arts which obscure the higher impulses in the elaboration of process and administration. They would cultivate that quick and natural apprehensiveness of spirit, that keen and direct faculty of the soul, which so often knows how to overleap the prescribed gradation of means to an end, instead of overloading it with accumulated facts and precedents gathered from the outside, and thus keep the mind in nearer touch with its ultimate scope and object. It was in the spirit of Taoism that Mozart said, “ If you once think of how you are to do it, you will never do anything: I write music because I cannot help it.” Certainly this is true of all the world’s best work. Michelangelo, Shakespeare, Turner, saw the vision clearly, and then expressed it with as little thought of means and process as possible, — a spontaneous law embodied in every line. Taoism would raise every action to the unconscious rule and power of genius. Do not seek the aid of ethics or science in order to live, says the Taoist: live by living. If a bird should begin to reason of its flight, — seek how to do it mathematically, or in any way but the instinctive and natural one, — it would immediately fall to the ground.

Taoism turns to the beginning, and inculcates obedience to the primary law. The Taoist “ anticipates things that are difficult while they are easy, and does things that would become great while they are small. All difficult things in the world are sure to arise from a previous state in which they were easy, and all great things from one in which they were small. Therefore, the sage, while he never does what is great, is able, on that account, to accomplish the greatest things.” Tao is eminently scientific, and justifies its title of the Way by entering the path, and never leaving it, till the goal is won. It begins at the beginning, therefore its end is reached. It anticipates and provides against every contingency. “ Poh - kuei avoided floods by stopping the cracks in his dike. Changjen guarded against fire by plastering up the fissures of his stove.”The Taoist doctrine of inaction is not that of doing nothing. It is that of abiding in law ; of seeking to make ourselves right, and simply allowing our actions, naturally and without strain or striving, witness to the principles by which we are governed. “ It is the way of heaven not to strive,” says Lao-tze, “and yet it skillfully overcomes ; not to speak, and yet it is skillful in obtaining a reply ; it, does not call, and yet men come to it of themselves. Its demonstrations are quiet, and yet its plans are skillful and effective. The meshes of the net of heaven are large; far apart, but letting nothing escape.”

Taoism inculcates strict humility and meekness, reminding one in these respects of the saying of Christ, “ Ihe meek shall inherit the earth.” Thus we have the Aphorisms : —

“ That whereby the rivers and seas are able to receive the homage and tribute of all the valley streams is their skill in being lower than they ; it is thus that they are the kings of them all. So it is that the sage ruler, wishing to be above men, puts himself by his words below them; and wishing to be before them, places his person behind them.

“ In this way, though he has his place above them, men do not feel his weight; nor though he has his place before them, do they feel it an injury to them.

“ Therefore all in the world delight to exalt him, and do not weary of him. Because he does not strive, no one finds it possible to strive with him.”

When one thinks of how much has been accomplished in the world by self-repression, by raising the life within to the liberality of a broad self-abnegation, one may understand the Taoist’s deprecation of a narrow personality. What spiritual influence in the world has been stronger or of wider influence than that of the Author of Christianity, who did “ not strive nor cry, neither did any man hear his voice in the streets "? His silence before Pilate is heard more clearly than the thunders of Sinai, its echoes resounding even until to-day. Amongst the most important and widely diffused influences during the Middle Ages was that of St. Francis of Assisi, who wrote little or nothing, and whose recorded words are of the fewest, yet he once held half Europe in mental subjugation.

We thus gain an insight into the apparently paradoxical teaching of Lao-tze. It is not self-insistent, it does not cry out, it does not struggle. Its creed is above warfare. It dwells with the gods, and knows how to bide its time. It has faith in itself, in the Tao. The Eternal must prevail, the Infinite must rule. It keeps cool and quiet in its place, minding its own business, nor seeks to push the world out of its course, but only to find the clue, the finality, of its revolution, and then to go round with it, furthering its course as much as possible, assured that ultimately it will attain its home, in which all things rest when the stormy time is over. The Taoist lays his head, as it were, on the bosom of Infinite Wisdom, and rests there in perfect confidence that Good will assert itself, that Right will reign, and that all he can do is to trust in purity and honor, and the splendid results which must succeed the acceptance of the highest laws of life and being.

In the writings of Chuang-tze we find a wider intellectual range, a more expansive and varied outlook, than in those of his master. They are also pervaded by a subtle spirit of humor which is very diverting. His literary style is held in great esteem by his countrymen. It is marked by a brightness, vivacity, and play of the imaginative faculty clearly apparent in the translation. His utterances are direct and penetrative, reaching the mark the nearest way. They are stimulating and suggestive, even in their most transcendental flights, and often imply more than they express. It is difficult to imagine a reader, even amongst those who seek only amusement, who would not be interested and impressed by Mr. Giles’s epigrammatic translation of these masterpieces.

Chuang-tze opens his dissertation by expanding the mind to the scale of existence as unlimited. He breaks down the barriers of sense, the boundaries of mortal being, by the conception of an enormous fish called Khwan, compared with which the largest whale is a mere minnow. This fish changes into a bird called Phang. As it flies from the Northern to the Southern Ocean its wings extend from horizon to horizon ; so large is it that it appears to bear the sky on its back as it flies. A cicada, seeing the vast flight of this enormous creature, compared it with his own flutterings from one tree to another, with difficulty accomplished, and said laughingly to a little dove, "Of what use is it that this creature should ascend ninety thousand leagues and fly to the south on an endlessly lean and hungry journey, when by going into the suburbs one may enjoy one’s self, returning before nightfall with a full stomach ? ”

The narration of this fable is here very artistically introduced, as it gives the keynote to the Taoist’s doctrine of scale and relationship, — the right application of the appropriate faculty to the purposes of life and living. The sage thus enforces his moral: —

“ Such, indeed, is the difference between small and great. Take, for instance, a man who creditably fills some small office, or who influences his prince to right government of the state : his opinion of himself will he much the same as that cicada’s. The philosopher Yung laughs at such a one. He, if the whole world flattered him, would not be affected thereby, nor if the whole world blamed him would he lose his faith in himself. For Yung can distinguish between the intrinsic and the extrinsic, between honor and shame, — and such men are rare in their generation.”

But even this philosopher, the sage tells us, is wanting in the highest requirements of his school: he is still attached to the earth, and is the creature of time and circumstance. “ But,” he inquires, “ had he been charioted upon the eternal fitness of heaven and earth, driving before him the elements as his team, while roaming through the realms of Forever, — upon what then would he have had to depend ? ” That is to say, had he attained to that high spiritual condition in which the soul becomes entirely independent of its environment, he would have transcended all mortal shackles and impediments, dwelling in the unchangeable and eternal verity. The sage thus sums up the qualifications of the Taoist : “ The perfect man has no thought of self; the spirit-like man, none of merit; the wise man, none of fame,” —each of these being raised above ordinary humanity in the degrees thus assigned.

I have said that Taoism often speaks in paradoxes, but beneath these there is always a profound meaning, a wide suggestiveness. In the chapter just quoted there is a pointed illustration of the useful in what is apparently useless from a lack of the faculty to grasp fully its significance or to appreciate its importance, which is, indeed, another logical application of the fable already cited. Huitze relates to Chuang-tze that the king of Wei had given him some seeds of a large calabash, the fruit of which, when fully grown, was so large that he did not know what to do with it. First of all he used the dried shells to contain water, but they were too heavy to lift; he then divided them into drinkingvessels, but they were too wide and unsteady for that purpose ; he then broke them to pieces, as being of no use whatever. “ The uselessness of the calabash,” says Chuang-tze, “was owing to your lack of intelligence in applying it. Why did you not take your five-bushel gourd and make a boat of it, by means of which you could have floated over river and lake ? With that object and intention it would not have been found too large.” Hui-tze replies, saying that he has a large tree, but of a worthless kind. It is unwieldy; its trunk is gnarled and crooked, not fit for planks, and its branches are so contorted that they are not suited to any purpose of carpentry. “ It seems to me,” proceeds Hui-tze, “ that your words are like that tree, big and useless. ’ “ Sir, ‘ answers Chuang-tze, “ have you never seen a wildcat crouching down in wait for its prey? Right and left it springs from bough to bough, high and low alike, until perchance it gets caught in a trap or dies in a snare. On the other hand, there is the yak with its huge body. It is big enough, in all conscience, but it cannot catch mice. Now, if you have a big tree and are at a loss what to do with it, why not plant it in the domain of non-existence, whither you might betake yourself to inaction beneath its shade ? There it would be safe from the axe and all other injury; for being of no use to others, itself would be free from harm.”

There is a subtle and transcendental meaning in this parable which may be thus expressed : Put a large thing to a large use; do not cut it up into smaller uses. What is useless in the material plane may find its full purpose in the spiritual one. Do not waste and dissipate the higher faculties of the soul and being on the evolution of the lower and temporary conditions of life, but fix them on the development of the highest and unchangeable state by discerning and entering the Tao, — the Infinite and the Eternal. The scope of the Khwan and the Phang is lost to the quail, the dove, and the locust. It is too wide for their comprehension, too vast for any scheme of their existence. To the materialist, who lives a life shut up in the scant domain of the senses, who does not discern nor appreciate the spirit - like outlook which regards infinite creation, and knows and feels that he who has such an outlook becomes himself an integral part of this creation, a part as important and necessary as any other part, such a conceptional idea is an occlusion, a stumbling-block, a mere figment. It is for him an impossible and chimerical Khwan or Phang, an overgrown calabash, a yak most useless in the catching of mice, a misapplied force; or rather, not a force at all, but a phantasmagoria without any real existence or place in life.

Taoism does not encourage verbose reasonings and disputations. “ The sage thinks, but does not discuss,” observes Chuang-tze. “ Disputation is a proof of not seeing clearly.” This objection to talking in the place of being or living is constantly raised. The same wise master, in describing the character of a true philosopher, says in epigrammatic form, which would be well inscribed over every temple and academy in the world, “ He sympathizes, but does not instruct.” It is so easy to teach the ethics of life, but so difficult practically to learn them. How often do we get offered to us the scorpion of instruction for the egg of sympathetic consolation ! With what distinctness does one feel, in reading the discourses of the consolers of the afflicted Job, that a deeper and wider sympathy might have superseded all their lengthy homilies, and have brought them at once in closer rapport with the sufferer and with the Divine Administrator of suffering ! The full reception of this Aphorism would in itself be capable of changing the whole aspect of life, and might indeed constitute a worthy sheet-anchor of moral conduct. If there were to be applied any one test by means of which the moral nature and condition of a man might be adequately measured and appraised, I know of none the alternative of which would be so decisively and crucially significant as this : Does he sympathize, or does he instruct?

Again, concrete virtues independently exercised on their own bases and limitations, as acts alone, are decried by the exponents of Tao. “ Intentional charity and intentional duty to one’s neighbor are surely not included in our moral nature,” says Chuang-tze. Benevolence and righteousness as specially exercised virtues are everywhere discouraged. The teacher refers to the primitive ages for the ideal state, when men lived in simplicity and according to the unsophisticated dictates of nature, — rules of conduct and formal prescription being’ useless where the love of goodness universally prevailed. “ But,” he pursues, “ when the sages appeared, tripping over charity and fettering with duty to one’s neighbor, doubt found its way into the world.” It is not thought necessary to legislate that a woman shall love her offspring; why should it be thought necessary to prescribe by moral subvention that a man should act justly and generously towards his fellow-men ? To the perfectly just or justly inclined man, which Tao implies, the charity and duty of set purpose are superfluous, because they flow from him naturally, without intention; so also with other virtues. He is the embodiment of them, as the sun is the embodiment of light, which makes no effort to shine, but dispenses its radiance as a condition of its existence. A passage in the ethical writings of James Hinton puts this very clearly: “ When the work of deliverance from self is effected, the thought of others need not be consciously present; the conditions being fulfilled, action becomes instinctive, and the perfectness of instinctive work shows that this is the highest form.” That benevolence or charity is discouraged which consists in the mere exercise of a function not dwelling in nor resulting from the faculty in which it properly inheres. So St. Paul: “ Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned,” — and one cannot imagine a higher exercise of functional benevolence than is implied by these, — “ and have not charity (or love), “it profiteth me nothing.”

Tao, in its experimental aspect, is the instrument of the Eternal, the operation of the Infinite when postulated. It allows no intrusion of personality, no selfish or individual interest. Why, inquires the Taoist, should virtues take the place of Virtue ? The rules and prescriptions of a factitious benevolence and righteousness are only to be regarded as distractions impeding and obstructing the natural outflow of a generous soul. To assign and prescribe these is simply a distortion and wrong done to that nature. How obvious, when we think of it, is the difference between a generous act done from a principle of justice or duty and one done from the instinct of love ! That this is no extravagant distinction of Oriental fancy, but that it has been known and accepted by sober thinkers of more recent times, may be verified by a quotation from Dr. John Tauler, one of the “ Friends of God in Germany in the fourteenth century. He says in one of his sermons : The child of God must have exercise in good works; but when he comes to possess the very substance of virtue, then virtue is no longer an exercise to him, for he practices it without an effort; and when virtue is practiced without labor or pain, we have got beyond exercise.” This is exactly what the Taoist means when he decries “ charity and duty to one’s neighbor.” He fitly crowns his doctrine by an appeal to the highest good, thus showing where his standard and ideal lie. He says : “ The Master I serve succors all things, and does not account it duty. He continues his blessings through countless generations, and does not account it charity. Dating back to the remotest antiquity, he does not account himself old. Covering heaven, supporting earth, and fashioning the various forms of things, he does not account himself skilled. He it is whom you should seek. ”

Tao, as has been already indicated, enforces a simple obedience to Universal Law; an acceptance of what is the only safe condition of life, the only secure path which can lead to perfect results. The Taoist seeks to utilize general laws by submitting to them, the only way to make them available to the highest purposes. He says : “ Every addition to or deviation from nature belongs not to the ultimate perfection of all. He who would attain such perfection never loses sight of the natural conditions of his existence. With him, the joined is not united, nor the separated apart, nor the long in excess, nor the short wanting. For just as a duck ’s legs, though short, cannot be lengthened without pain to the duck, and a crane’s legs, though long, cannot be shortened without misery to the crane, so that which is long in man ’s moral nature cannot be cut off, nor that which is short be lengthened. All sorrow is thus avoided.” This position is well illustrated by the philosopher Mencius, though not a Taoist, in the following fable : “ There must be the constant practice of righteousness, but without the object of nourishing the passion-nature. Let not the mind forget its work, but let there be no assisting the growth. Let us not be like the man of Sung. There was a man at Sung who was grieved that his growing corn was not longer, and so he pulled it up. He then returned home, looking very stupid, and said to his people, ‘ I am very tired today ; I have been helping the corn to grow long.’ His son ran to look at it, and found the corn all withered. There are few people in the world who do not deal with their passion-nature as if they were thus assisting their corn to grow long. Some, indeed, consider it of no benefit to them, and neglect it; they do not weed the corn. They who assist it to grow long pull out their corn. What they do is not only of no benefit to the nature, but it also injures it.”

If we would see to what “ benevolence ” and “ righteousness,” “ charity ” and “ duty to one’s neighbor,” lead without entering into the Law of Love and Truth, and only practiced empirically, we have but to turn to mediæval ecclesiasticism, which consisted with every kind of ignorance and cruelty. War, for example (denounced by the Taoist), was an accepted instrument of the church whose accredited Founder had expressly forbidden the use of the sword to his disciples. The doctrine of tender compassion and sympathetic love, the essence of Christianity, was administered by murderous fires and bitter persecutions.

Another distinctive doctrine of Tao is that of Inaction, before alluded to, but for the sake of clearness further illustration may be given. By inaction, as has been already stated, is not meant the laissez faire of the idle, careless, and indifferent, but the placing of one’s self in the proper order of events, and then patiently awaiting the issue. The Way is found by submission, not by overwrought exertion; by seeing and submitting to the right and true, not by self-centred action. The master of Tao neglects nothing, must do everything; but each thing must be done in the order and course of law, not empirically ; must be done silently, unargumentatively, impersonally ; that is, without the least selfishness or self-interest. His life must be all action, but it must be action in natural progress and gradation, — orderly, persistent, consecutive, as the earth’s revolution round the sun, as natural and as easy; it must be the embodiment of instinctive tact, the child in the man, God in the universe, the working of Nature through the mechanism of phenomena without strife or restraint, but effectually. “ Heaven does nothing,” says the Taoist, “ and thence comes its serenity ; earth does nothing, and thence comes its rest. By the union of these two inactivities, all things are produced. How vast and imperceptible is the process ! they seem to come from nowhere ! How imperceptible and vast! there is no visible image of it! All things in all their variety grow from this inaction. Hence it is said, ‘ Heaven and earth do nothing, and yet there is nothing they do not do.’ ” “ But,” the Taoist adds, "what man is there that can attain to this inaction ? ” Who indeed ? Yet this is the Taoist ideal, to do everything by a necessity of being, as it were, without any abnormal straining, just as the seasons are brought about by insensible terrestrial changes. Thus the Taoist does not obey Law as something extraneous to himself ; he is Law, the embodiment of it, and that is the highest form of manhood.

The essential spirit of Taoism is well illustrated in a supposed interview of Confucius with an old fisherman, narrated by Chuang-tze. Confucius, one day, rambling in the Black Forest, sat down by the Apricot Altar, when an old wise fisherman came by. Confucius accosted him, and, knowing him to have attained Tao, requested to be instructed by him. The fisherman began by pointing out the abuses and defections of society in over-officiousness and by an obtrusive personality. Confucius then complained of the rancorous persecution which had followed him, although his constant effort had been to act with justice and integrity. The fisherman attributed his misfortunes to the faults he had been decrying, and then related to him the following fable : —

“ There was once a man who was so afraid of his shadow and so disliked his own footsteps that he determined to run away from them. But the oftener he raised his feet the more footsteps he made, and though he ran very hard his shadow never left him. From this he inferred that he went too slowly, and ran as hard as he could without resting; the consequence being that his strength broke down, and he died. He was not aware that by going into the shade he would have got rid of his shadow, and that by keeping still he would have put an end to his footsteps. Fool that he was! ”

The fisherman proceeded to draw the moral thus : “ If you had guarded your proper truth, simply rendering to others what was due to them, then you would have escaped such entanglements. But now, when you do not cultivate your own person, and make the cultivation of others your object, are you not occupying yourself with what is external ? ”

Confucius, with an air of sadness, said, “ Allow me to ask what it is that you call my proper truth. ”

The fisherman replied : “ A man’s proper truth is pure sincerity in its highest degree; without this pure sincerity one cannot move others. Hence, if one only forces himself to wail, however sadly he may do so, it is not real sorrow ; if he forces himself to be angry, however he may seem to he severe, he excites no awe ; if he forces himself to show affection, however he may smile, he awakens no harmonious reciprocation. True grief without a sound is yet sorrowful; true anger without any demonstration awakens awe ; true affection without a smile yet produces a harmonious reciprocation. Given this truth within, it exercises a spiritual efficacy without, and this is why we count it so valuable.”

The Law of Tao is then still more definitely expounded in the following summary: —

“ Rites are prescribed for the practice of common people ; a man’s proper Truth is what he has received from Heaven, operating spontaneously, and unchangeable. Therefore the sages take their law from Heaven, and prize their proper Truth, without submitting to the restrictions of custom. The stupid do the reverse of this. They are unable to take their law from Heaven, and are influenced by other men; they do not know how to prize the proper Truth of their nature, but are under the dominion of ordinary things, and change according to the customs around them.”

Do not disturb the order of events and destroy the harmony of life, says the Taoist, by too much meddling. Life will govern itself, if you will only allow it to do so. Life is enough for the living. Its purposes will be accomplished, its results attained, without combating and struggling against those circumstances whose sum and end are combined in one issue. A too strict and specific government induces crime, an overstrained pressure and enforcement of external rules of constraint and restriction destroy self-dependence, suppressing the natural development of a moral and virtuous life and conduct either by causing moral atrophy, or by arousing a reactionary feeling to evade them. Teach men to depend on their innate goodness, not upon an artificial and factitious code formed by ethical rule and compass. Let your appeal be to the internal witness and standard, not to compulsory external regulation. You will thus form men and women with judgment and independence, not slaves and serfs to superimposed, restrictions. This is the doctrine of “Letting Be, “ and one may very well see the reasonableness of it. It is neither a fad nor a folly, but implies a deep underlying principle which the world may some time think it worth while to appeal to as the stronghold of morals, the fortress of a well laid and firmly regulated life, the safeguard! of good conduct and a just perception of the rightness of things. This doctrine ought not to appear strange to us. It has received a singular confirmation by a modern thinker to whom its authority could not have been known. “ What if the world be so arranged by God,” says James Hinton in his Philosophy and Religion, “ that it goes best by being let alone ; not being continually interfered with by us to make it as we like it (as we find this the tendency of politics, certainly, and medicine) ? May this be the truth : that man, having his interest devoted mainly to the spiritual, and suffering the phenomenal to go with less devotion of thought and labor, would find it go better by that very letting alone ? One great part of our mischief is, that we continually alter, or try to alter, all phenomena to please ourselves, and so spoil things ; our whole interest and thought is to them, and it is the wrong attitude of man to them; they go wrong by that very activity; and the remedy for this evil is the devotion of our thoughts to the spiritual, the phenomenal therefore going better. May not this be in part the meaning of ‘ Seek ye first the kingdom of God,’ etc. ? Do not pay so much heed to make these things go as you like them, and they will go the better ; for it spoils even the phenomenon to make it as man likes it to be.”

Does not this strange similarity of doctrine between thinkers so widely separated from each other by time and locality show that it must certainly have a natural basis of truth in the human mind ?

“ Be careful,” says Chuang-tze, “ not to interfere with the natural goodness of the heart of man. Man’s heart may be forced down or stirred up. In each case the issue is fatal. By gentleness the hardest heart may be softened. But try to cut and polish it, it will glow like fire or freeze like ice. In the twinkling of an eye it will pass beyond the limits of the Four Seas. In repose, profoundly still; in motion, far away in the sky. No bolt can bar, no bond can bind, —such is the human heart.”

The necessity of independence of judgment, and for the development of that principle in the individual upon which alone can be based the right government of life, is clearly laid down in the following passage: —

“ Cherish that which is within you, and shut off that which is without; for much knowledge is a curse. Then I will place you upon that abode of Great Light which is the source of positive power, and escort you through the gate of Profound Mystery which is the source of the negative power. These powers are the controllers of heaven and earth, and each contains the other.”

That is to say, by dismissing acquired knowledge, and placing yourself on the basis of direct thinking, you will attain the highest power of the human mind.

As the Yellow Emperor was going to see Tâ-kwei with seven sages in his train, he lost his way, and stopped to make inquiry of a little boy who was tending some horses. After receiving the required indication the Emperor proceeded still further to question the boy, and was so astonished at the answers given that he finally said to him, “ Of course government is not your trade ; still, I should be glad to hear what you would do if you were Emperor.” The boy declined to answer; but on being again urged, he cried out, “What difference is there between governing and looking after horses ? See that no harm comes to the horses, that is all.” One hardly wonders that the Emperor was so struck with the boy’s answer that, prostrating himself before him, he addressed him as “Celestial Instructor,” and so took his leave.

The worldly - indifferent Taoist does not look to the external for his satisfaction. He prefers to dwell, as many of the wisest of all ages have done, in obscure tranquillity, with the wide universe spread out before him, and its secret within his heart. To be greedy of knowledge is not satisfying, for a full appetite asks for more. It is a part of his wisdom to know when he has had enough, and to stop on the hither side of the knowable. He accepts what he has as earnest of all the rest, and is satisfied to be a dweller in Tao, a denizen of the Infinite, an inhabitant of the Eternal.

He asks neither place nor power, and is not to be won by the promise of office, honors, or reward.

“Chuang-tze was fishing in the P’u, when the prince of Ch’u sent two high officials to ask him to take charge of the administration of the Ch’u State. Chuang-tze went on fishing, and, without turning his head, said : ‘ I have heard that in Ch’u there is a sacred tortoise which has been dead now some three thousand years; and that the prince keeps this tortoise carefully inclosed in a chest on the altar of his ancestral temple. Now, would this tortoise rather be dead and have its remains venerated, or be alive and wagging its tail in the mud? ’ ‘ It would rather be alive,’ replied the two officials, ‘ and wagging its tail in the mud.’ ‘ Begone ! ’ cried Chuang-tze. ‘ I too will wag my tail in the mud.’ ”

The apparently extravagant character of some of the doctrines of Tao is very much modified in aspect if we look for it under other forms and names amongst Western nations. The claims for impressiveness made by the undemonstrative reticence and silence of the Taoist are not unexampled in the social life of to-day. The Taoist is said to do everything by doing nothing, to persuade more by the argument of silence ” than by the rhetoric of speech. “ The true Sage,” says Chuang-tze, “ when in obscurity, causes those around him to forget their poverty. When in power, he causes princes to forget ranks and emoluments, and to become as though of low estate. He rejoices exceedingly in all creation. He exults to see Tao diffused among his fellow-men, while suffering no loss himself. Thus, although silent, he can instill peace, and by his mere presence cause men to be to each other as father and son. From his very return to passivity comes this active influence for good. So widely does he differ in heart from ordinary men.”

The men of the greatest influence are not the loudest nor the most officious. To be “ silent in seven languages ” is a power over self which implies power over others. The Thoreaus and Hawthornes have not much to say either in public or in private, but their influence goes far, and carries the more weight, perhaps, for the paucity of utterance, — more, in fact, than is possible to blatant self-assertion and an obtruded personality. A single word quietly spoken from a purely unselfish spirit, says Archbishop Fénelon, will go further, even in worldly matters, than the most eager, bustling exertion. The Taoist who seeks to improve, to perfect himself as far as possible first, and then to win over others to his views, is much more likely to succeed in doing so than he who says the wisest things from an unformed or ill-formed, an ungoverned or misgoverned life. We all know the person whom we trust with the best and the worst of ourselves, and whose good faith we rely upon, whom we consult in trouble, and whose sympathy we claim in success or prosperity. He or she has seldom much to say, — is not a person of bustle or excitement. But we know our confidence is not misplaced, nor will our trust he broken.

If we compare the governing sentiment of Taoism with that of Vedantism, there is a considerable difference in the points of view taken ; also in the degrees of limitation and extension in the application of those views. The Vedantist has the nobler outlook, the sublimer conception of the spiritual life. He sees the universe as a body of which intelligent essential being is the soul. He sees in his own life and being a manifestation of the Eternal, — the universal thinker, worker, sustainer, dissolver. The Taoist also sees and feels around him the larger influence, the wider power ; and his object is the same as that of the Vedantist, — to identify himself with the all-sustaining, the continually enduring. But he does not dwell upon the intellectual nature of this Being; he separates it from all possible conditions and qualities. It is neither thought, nor act, nor anything for which he has a name. It declines all predicates, and is the sublime nothing’, the dark inscrutable, to all human intelligence. The soul of the Vedantist is the universal soul. Tao has neither soul nor spiritual being. The term God, as used in modern forms of religion, might in many instances be applicable to the Brahman of the Vedânta, though it is by no means synonymous with it. But it could hardly be employed for Tao in any just sense or significance. Tao, as has been said, is without predicates, whereas the term God in its usual acceptation implies them. The Vedantist appeals to the soul within, as it exists ; the Taoist leaves the soul and time, and soars, as he says, on the wings of nothingness in the realm of nowhere. But these are not mere phrases to him. He grasps what he holds ; and though the goal of his efforts and desires is substantially unknown and incomprehensible to him, he is as well assured of its reality as he is of his own existence. The world of his senses is not a finality ; and though he refuses to define what may be called the heavenly support which underlies all being, he is not, for that reason, disposed to consider it a figment. Upon this his rule is laid and his life based. But though his outlook has not the spiritual sublimity of the Vedânta, it often reaches a moral grandeur which is in itself sublime.

Which of us can read the words of the ancient sage without feeling the strength of their appeal to that elemental part of the soul which unites us to the Eternal, and confirms us children of the Infinite, —that something within us which is as the echo to sound, the messenger of the voice we recognize as familiar to us ?

“ That Self (the Tao) is eternal; yet all men think it mortal. That Self is infinite ; yet all men think it finite. Those who possess Tao are princes in this life, and rulers in the hereafter. Those who do not possess Tao behold the light of day in this life, and become clods of earth in the hereafter. Nowadays, all living things spring from the dust, and to the dust return. But I will lead you through the portals of eternity into the domain of infinity. My light is the light of sun and moon. My life is the life of heaven and earth. I know not who comes nor who goes. Men may all die, but I endure forever.”

Thus speaks the Tao. Let us compare the utterance with the words of David the Psalmist, and we shall see how nearly related they are to each other, how similar are the loftiest emotions of the soul and its language at all times and in all generations : —

“ Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of thy hands.

“ They shall perish, but thou shalt endure : yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed :

“ But thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end.

“ The children of thy servants shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee.”

To show where the Taoist really stands, and in further explication of his doctrines, we will give a final extract. It must, however, be premised that the term Thien (Heaven), translated by Mr. Giles “ God,” must not be understood to imply a personal deity, for that does not enter the category of the Taoist.

“ The foot treads the ground in walking; nevertheless, it is the ground not trodden on which makes up the good walk. A man’s knowledge is limited; but it is upon what he does not know that he depends to extend his knowledge to the apprehension of God. Knowledge of the great ONE, of the great Negative, of the great Nomenclature, of the great Uniformity, of the great Space, of the great Truth, of the great Law, — this is perfection. The great ONE is omnipresent, the great Negative is omnipotent, the great Nomenclature is all-inclusive, the great Uniformity is all-assimilative, the great Space is all-receptive, the great Truth is all-exacting, the great Law is all-binding. The ultimate end is God. Me is manifested in the laws of nature. He is the hidden spring. At the beginning He was. This, however, is inexplicable. It is unknowable. But from the unknowable we reach the known. Investigation must not be limited, nor must it be unlimited. In this vague undefinedness there is an actuality. Time does not change it. It cannot suffer diminution. May we not then call it our great Guide? Why not bring our doubting hearts to investigation thereof, and then, using certainty to dispel doubt, revert to a state without doubt, in which doubt is doubly dead ? ”

A Chinese commentator, speaking of the section to which this is the conclusion, says, “ The force of language can no further go. ” Nor can it.

William Davies.