Lao-tzu, A Study in Chinese Philosophy — A Closer Reading

One of the most remarkable men in the history of China, as also in the history of philosophy, is Lao-tzŭ, the author of the _Tao-tê-ching_ (道德經). This book deserves, and has obtained with those who know it, a high place among philosophical works, and the posthumous fortunes of its author have very rarely been surpassed. That his own followers—or at least those who professed to be and probably believed that they were his followers—should magnify his name was only what we would have expected. They have raised him from the rank of ordinary mortals, and represented him as an incarnation of deity, showing himself on this earth at sundry times and in various manners. His conception and birth, his personal appearance, and everything about him have been represented by them as supernatural; and the philosophic little treatise which he composed is regarded as a sacred book. Much of this has arisen from a spirit of rivalry with Buddhism. The Taoists did not wish to be behind the Buddhists in the amount of glory and mystery attaching to the reputed originator of their religion; and they accordingly tried to make the fortunes of Lao-tzŭ like those of Shâkyamuni, the Buddha of the Present.

Both Confucianists and Buddhists, however, also regard the _Tao-tê-ching_ as a book of deep mysteries, and admit the supernatural, or at least marvellous, character of its author, though, as will be seen, many censure him for teaching doctrines either in themselves mischievous or leading to evil results when fully developed. At several periods of Chinese history Lao-tzŭ has enjoyed the patronage of government, and almost supplanted Confucius. Indeed, during several of the dynasties which reigned within the first few centuries of our era, there seems to have been a constant struggle for ascendancy between the followers of these two philosophic chiefs. Emperors have done honour to Lao-tzŭ in his temple, and the sovereigns of the great Tʽang dynasty were proud to deem him their lineal ancestor. One emperor has even written an excellent commentary on his book; and one of the best editions of the _Tao-tê-ching_ as regards textual excellence is that by a Confucian mandarin under the present dynasty. Buddhist monks also have edited the book with annotations, and many of them regard it and its author with a reverence second only to that with which the Taoists regard them.

It is not only, however, his own countrymen who have given honour to this prophet. By Western writers also great and mysterious things have been attributed to him. Some have found in his book an enunciation of the doctrine of the Trinity. The illustrious Rémusat discovered in it the sacred name Jehovah, and many curious analogies with the best philosophic writings of ancient times, and more especially with those of Greece. Pauthier, who has read and written largely about Lao-tzŭ, finds in his teachings the triple Brahma of the ancient Hindoos, the Adibuddha of the Northern Buddhists, and an anticipated Christianity. The _Tao_ (道) of which Lao-tzŭ speaks so much has been likened to God, to the Logos of Plato and the Neoplatonists, to “the nonentity of some German philosophers,” and to many other things. Pauthier says:—“Le dieu invoque et decrit par _Lao-tseu_ est la _Grande Voie_ du monde, la _Raison suprême universelle_ (道) materiellement identique avec le mot qui sert á designer Dieu dans les langues grecque (_φεὸς_) latine (Deus) et leurs derivèes modernes; mais les attributs qu’il lui donne ne sont point ceux qu’ont données à l’Etre suprême toutes les doctrines spiritualistes de l’Orient, transmises à l’Occident par une voie juive et grecque; par les therapeutes et les esséniens, dont Jesus, le fils de l’homme, fut le revelateur et le representant à l’état philosophique.”[1] Our missionaries have used this word _Tao_ to represent _λόγος_ in their translation of the New Testament, and the first five verses of St. John’s Gospel are nearly as much Taoist as Christian in the Chinese text.

Some writers on the other hand, such as Gutzlaff, have represented Lao-tzŭ as writing nonsense, and they seem to insinuate that he did not even know the meaning of what he was writing. Others, as Voltaire, have charged on him all the follies and superstitions practised by the Taoists, and have consequently decried him and his teachings. This is just about as wise and just a proceeding as to reproach the Apostle Paul on account of the sayings and doings of sects like Muckers, and Mormons, and Muggletonians. Many also regard Lao-tzŭ as a mere speculative recluse, shutting himself up from the turmoils and miseries of social life, and publishing theories in politics and morals of no practical tendency whatever. In these respects he is constantly contrasted with Confucius, who is looked upon as an eminently practical man, teaching to the people only things which they could easily understand, and ever refusing to wander into the regions of uncertainty and mystery.

There are, so far as I know, very few translations of the _Tao-tê-ching_ in western languages. According to Sir J. F. Davis, a manuscript copy of a Latin translation is preserved in the Library of the Royal Society of England. Pauthier has translated part of the book into French, and has announced his determination, to complete the work. Julien, however, perhaps the best and soberest of Lao-tzŭ’s expounders, has translated into French the entire book, along with many Chinese notes and fragments illustrating the life and teachings of its author. Hegel says there is at Vienna a translation of the _Tao-tê-ching_, or as he calls it _Tao-king_, which he himself had seen.[2] He does not, however, mention the name of the translator or the language of the translation, but I think we are justified in inferring that it is German. In English we have the recent work of the Rev. Mr. Chalmers, a missionary and scholar of no ordinary attainments. He has some excellent remarks in his Introduction, but the translation itself, being almost unaccompanied with note or comment, and being apparently made from a bad text, is rather disappointing. Ritter, Cousin, Hardwicke, Edkins, and many others have given short accounts of Taoism; but few of these have clearly separated Lao-tzŭ and his doctrines from the later Taoists and their doctrines. The “extravagant vagaries” of the latter may have arisen often from misinterpreted or misapplied statements of Lao-tzŭ, but they are not to be imputed to him.[3] We must ascribe to Lao-tzŭ only the things which are his—the merits and defects of his own direct teachings.

[2] Geschichte der Philosophie, B. 1. p. 142.

[3] Compare Rémusat, Mémoire sur la vie et les opinions de Lao-tseu, &c., p. 20.

The life of Lao-tzŭ, like the book which he wrote, is enveloped in mystery; and one might almost be excused for doubting whether such a person ever actually existed. One author, indeed, has even gone the length of saying that Lao-tzŭ was made out of space or vacuity (_hung_ 洪).[1] The most reliable account of him which has come down to us is that by Szŭ Ma-chien, or Sze-ma-thsien (司馬遷), in the _Shi-chi_ (史記), and this is very brief and unsatisfactory. We have also occasional notices of him in other old books, but the stories told about him in the Records of Spirits and Fairies and works of a like nature are, as Julien observes, only a tissue of falsehoods which all sensible men reject.

Szŭ Ma-chien says[2] Lao-tzŭ was a native of the hamlet Chʽü-jen (曲仁) of the parish Lai or Li (厲) in the district Kʽu (苦), a town of the state Chu (楚): his surname was Li (李), his name Êrh (耳), his style Po-yang (伯陽) and his posthumous designation Tan (聃).[3] He was in office at the court of Chou 周 as Shou-tsang-shĭ-chĭ-shĭ (守藏室之史), which Julien translates “gardien des archives.”

I have been unable to obtain from Chinese sources any reliable statement as to the date of Lao-tzŭ’s birth; though Pauthier[4] asserts positively that he was born on the 14th day of the 9th moon, in the year B.C. 604. In this he is followed by Julien, who, however, says candidly—“cette date (the 3rd year of king Ting 定 of the Chou dynasty, corresponding to B.C. 604) que nous inserons ici, est conforme a la tradition historique la mieux établie mais elle ne se trouve point dans la notice du Sze-ma-thsien dont nous donnons la traduction.”[5] There is nothing improbable in this date, as we know from other sources that Lao-tzŭ was a contemporary of Confucius, though very much his senior; and as Confucius was born about B.C. 550, Lao-tzŭ must apparently have been born about the beginning of the sixth century B.C. The latter sage indeed, is usually represented as having attained to a very great age, and as having been alive much more than fifty years before the birth of Confucius. Chʽao, a well known author, quoted by Ma Tuan-lin, says that it was in the forty-second year of the reign of king Pʽing (平王) that Lao-tzŭ gave his book to the keeper of the Pass.[6] This-would carry him up to the eighth century B.C., king Pʽing having commenced to reign about the year B.C. 770. Others[7] mention two teachers of Tao (道) as having lived during the Chou dynasty, one Lao-tan (老聃) and another named Lao-lai-tzŭ (老萊子). It is by the name Lao-tan that Confucius usually refers to Lao-tzŭ, while later authors often use his surname Li or his name Êrh. It must be remembered also that the Lao-tan mentioned by Confucius is regarded by a few commentators as a different person from the author of the _Tao-tê-ching_.

Nearly all authorities seem to agree with Szŭ Ma-chien as to the place of Lao-tzŭ’s birth in the feudal dependency Chʽu (楚). Under this word Biot has the following remarks—“Nom d’un ancien royaume de la Chine centrale, a l’époque du Tchun-thsieou. Le centre etait dans l’arrondissement de Tchi-kiang; la limite nord etait entre le Kiang et le Hoang-ho; la limite sud était au midi du Kiang, mais non bien determinée.”[8] The district city Kʽu is also said to have belonged to the principality of _Chʽên_, It stood near the present Kwei-tê-foo, the most easterly of the cities of Honan; and the present Kʽu-yang (苦陽) preserves the house of Lao-tzŭ and a temple dedicated to his memory.[9] Another account, however, represents him as having been born in the district city Po (毫) in the province of Honan.[10] The chief of Chʽu, like the chiefs of many other states, was at the time of Lao-tzŭ and Confucius only nominally a feudal dependent of the king. He was originally a Tzŭ (子) or Viscount, but the title Wang (王) or king was now usurped in the degenerate days of the Chou rulers who were unable to maintain a strong government.

Of the parents of Lao-tzŭ and of his early years I have not found any record in Chinese books; but Pauthier says that according to historic data his father was a poor peasant who had remained a bachelor up to his seventieth year, when he married a peasant woman of the unromantic age of forty years.[11] Whatever were his circumstances, however, I think we may conclude that Lao-tzŭ was in early life a diligent student of the past history and the institutions of the country, and his obtaining office at the court of Chou was probably a consequence of his learning and abilities.

As to the nature of this office I cannot agree with Pauthier and Julien in calling it that of historiographer, or keeper of the State Archives. The word _tsang_ (藏) means a granary or storehouse, and in a note to a passage in the Li-chi, or Record of Ceremonies, it is explained as the Imperial or National Museum.[12] The _Shou-tsang-shĭ_ (守藏史) would accordingly be the officer in charge of the Museum, and we must remember that when Confucius went to the Capital of Chou to Lao-tzŭ, he saw in the palace the portraits of the early kings, along with many other relics of antiquity, which possessed him strongly with an idea of the magnificence of the first princes of the dynasty.[13] Dr. Legge also, I find, translates the expression by “Treasury-keeper.”[14] The legend in the Records of Spirits and Fairies states that Lao-tzŭ was in the time of king Wên a _Shou-tsang-shi_ and under king Wu a _Chu-hsia-shi_ (柱下史),[15] this latter term meaning assistant historiographer; and it is not improbable that he may have actually held both these offices in succession under king Ting (定) or king Chien (簡), who reigned in the 6th century B.C.

During the time of Lao-tzŭ’s residence at the court of Chou, he was visited by two young gentlemen who had come in a carriage and pair from the distant state of Lu (魯). Their names were Ching-shu (敬叔) and Kʽung chiu (孔丘) or Confucius, and they had come to learn from the venerable sage the rites and manners of the olden times. The latter of the two, namely, Confucius, had already been a pupil of Lao-tzŭ, and still remembered his former master with affection and respect. According to Chwang-tzu,[16] however, it was not until he was fifty-one years old that Confucius went to see Lao-tzŭ. He himself when little more than a youth had set out on a converting tour, thinking to induce rulers and people throughout the kingdom to cease from their evil ways and turn to the good old paths of primitive virtue. He did not succeed, however, and he now told his master the sorrowful tale of his disappointment. Lao-tzŭ said to him, “If it be known that he who talks errs by excess in arguing, and that he who hears is confused by too much talk, the way (Tao 道)[17] can never be forgot.” According to _Szŭ Ma-chien_, the Master on another occasion lectured his ambitious disciple as follows: “The men of whom you speak, Sir, have with their bones already all mouldered into dust, and only their sayings abide. Moreover if the superior man 君子 gets his time, he mounts [his car and takes office]: if he does not get his time, he goes through life like a wisp of straw rolling over sand. I have heard that a good merchant with his treasure house deeply stored seems devoid of resources, and that the superior man of perfect excellence has an outward semblance of stupidity. Do you, Sir, put away your haughty airs and many desires, your flashy manner and extravagant will; these are all unprofitable to you, Sir; and this is all I have to say to you.”[20] In the _Family Sayings_ we read that when Confucius was about to leave _Chou_, Lao-tzŭ gave him as his parting gift a warning against going too far in the public reproval of those who were in authority.[21] From this and the other references made to the intercourse between Confucius and Lao-tzŭ in the Family Sayings and the Record of Rites (禮記), it will be seen that they were on terms of intimate friendship; and though Confucius may have deserved the reproof which, according to _Szŭ Ma-chien_, Lao-tzŭ administered to him, yet this speech has in it so little of the spirit in which allusion is made to Lao-tzŭ by Confucius or his disciples that I am almost tempted to doubt the story.

I have been unable to find in the Chinese works on this subject a statement of the length of time during which Lao-tzŭ served the king of Chou, of the manner in which he performed his duties, or of the immediate reason of his retirement from office. _Szŭ Ma-chien_ simply says,[22] “He cultivated _Tao_ and virtue (修道德), learned to live in seclusion and oblivion as the important thing, resided for a long time in Chou; when he saw the fortunes of the dynasty going to ruin, he left the country and came to the Pass (關). The keeper of the Pass, by name _Yin-hsi_ (尹喜), said to him, ‘Since you are about to go into seclusion, Sir, you must make me a book.’ Hereupon Lao-tzŭ produced his book in two sections containing more than 5,000 characters and declaring the meaning of Tao and Tê (道德). He then went away, and no one knows his end.”

In order to understand the conduct of Lao-tzŭ, in retiring from office in Chou and going into seclusion when he saw its fortunes broken, we must know something of the state of the country at the time. Now the reader of the historical and other works relating to this dynasty will remember what a miserable picture of the kingdom is given in most of them. The hard won territories of king Wu 武 were now subject to his degenerate descendants only in name. The whole country was torn up into petty states, which were always warring with each other. Year by year, army after army, with flaunting banners and gay pennons, passed and repassed through the fields of the people, and left desolation and misery in their track. Fathers and husbands, sons and brothers, were taken away from their homes and their work, and kept in long military service far away from their families. Laxity of morals accompanied this state of civil confusion. Chiefs forgot their allegiance to their princes, and wives their duties to their husbands—usurpers were in the state, and usurpers were in the family. Every little chief was striving with his neighbour for the mastery, and the weak and wicked princes of Chou were unable to overcome them and reduce them to peace and obedience. Men of shining abilities and inordinate ambition rose to power in each state, and, wishing to satisfy their ambition, increased the anarchy of the kingdom. The decree of Heaven was slowly changing, and already, in the time of Lao-tzŭ, “Ichabod” was written up for the princes of Chou. We can now easily see why the philosopher taught that men should not strive, but ever give way; that they should be humble and satisfied with a low condition; that men of virtue and integrity should retire from the dangers and vices of a wicked government; and that no honour should be attached to specious abilities or rare acquisitions. True to his principles, he himself, when the prestige of Chou was lost, and the evil days and evil tongues were becoming more and more evil, withdrew from the court and retired into unenvied obscurity.[23] For this course of action, Confucianists and others have severely censured Lao-tzŭ. We must remember, however, that Confucius himself taught (what he had probably learnt from Lao-tzŭ) that when good principles prevail in a country, the superior man takes office; and that he retires when bad government takes their place. There seem to have been at the time only two courses which an upright and faithful public servant could elect to pursue. He might either take his life in his hands, and try by strong measures to recall his rulers to the path of virtue; or he might establish his own good character, and then withdraw from temptation and corruption. Confucius chose the former course, and ended in disappointment; Lao-tzŭ and many others, as we know from the Lun-yü (論語), chose the latter course.

The Pass to which _Szŭ Ma-chien_ represents Lao-tzŭ as going, and where he met with _Yin-hsi_ 尹喜, is said in a note to this passage to be probably _Han-ku-kwan_ 函谷關, the present Ling-pao 靈寶 in the extreme west of Honan, and on the south bank of the Yellow River. The Pass and its keeper have since become famous in the legendary and poetic literature of China. This is the last historical notice that we have of Lao-tzŭ. He left the Pass, having enriched the keeper with the 81 chapters he had composed on _Tao_ and Virtue, and went away. “No one knows his end.” We may hope, however, that he died a peaceful, happy death, in a good old age, having attained a clear insight into the nature of _Tao_ 道 and _Tê_ 德.

According to the Lao-tzŭ Lie Chuan 老子列傳 of _Szŭ Ma-chien_,[24] Lao-tzŭ left a son named Tsʽung 宗, who became a high military officer under the chief of Wei 微, and was appointed to the feudal dependency Tuan-kan 段干. His descendants were living in the time of the Han 漢 dynasty in the 2d century B.C.