MOUNTAIN TREES.
_Argument_:--The alternatives of usefulness and
uselessness--TAO a _tertium quid_--The human a hindrance to the
divine--Altruism--Adaptation--Destiny--Illustrations.
[This chapter is supplementary to chapter iv.]
Chuang Tzŭ was travelling over a mountain when he saw a huge tree well
covered with foliage. A woodsman had stopped near by, not caring to
take it; and on Chuang Tzŭ enquiring the reason, he was told that it
was of no use.
"This tree," cried Chuang Tzŭ, "by virtue of being good for nothing
succeeds in completing its allotted span."
When Chuang Tzŭ left the mountain, he put up at the house of an old
friend. The latter was delighted, and ordered a servant to kill a goose
and cook it.
"Which shall I kill?" enquired the servant; "the one that cackles or
the one that doesn't?"
His master told him to kill the one which did not cackle. And
accordingly, the next day, a disciple asked Chuang Tzŭ, saying,
"Yesterday, that tree on the mountain, because good for nothing, was to
succeed in completing its allotted span. But now, our host's goose,
which is good for nothing, has to die. Upon which horn of the dilemma
will you rest?"
"I rest," replied Chuang Tzŭ with a smile, "halfway between the two. In
that position, appearing to be what I am not, it is impossible to avoid
the troubles of mortality;
The text is here doubtful, and commentators explain according to the
fancy of each. When a Chinese commentator does not understand his
text, he usually slurs it over. He never says "I do not understand."
Chu Fu Tzŭ alone could rise to this height.
though, if charioted upon TAO and floating far above mortality, this
would not be so. No praise, no blame; both great and small; changing
with the change of time, but ever without special effort; both above
and below; making for harmony with surroundings; reaching creation's
First Cause; swaying all things and swayed by none;--how then shall
such troubles come? This was the method of Shên Nung and Huang Ti.
"If another guest had happened to arrive," says Lin Hsi Chung, "I
fancy the chance even of the cackling goose would have been small."
"But amidst the mundane passions and relationships of man, such would
not be the case. For where there is union, there is also separation;
where there is completion, there is also destruction; where there is
purity, there is also oppression; where there is honour, there is
also disparagement; where there is doing, there is also undoing; where
there is openness, there is also underhandedness; and where there is no
semblance, there is also deceit. How then can there be any fixed point?
Alas indeed! Take note, my disciples, that such is to be found only in
the domain of TAO."
* * * * *
I Liao
A sage of the Ch'u State.
of Shih-nan paid a visit to the prince of Lu. The latter wore a
melancholy look; whereupon the philosopher of Shih-nan enquired what
was the cause.
"I study the doctrines of the ancient Sages," replied the prince. "I
carry on the work of my predecessors. I respect religion. I honour the
good. Never for a moment do I relax in these points; yet I cannot avoid
misfortune, and consequently I am sad."
"Your Highness' method of avoiding misfortune," said the philosopher of
Shih-nan, "is but a shallow one. A handsome fox or a striped leopard
will live in a mountain forest, hiding beneath some precipitous cliff.
This is their repose. They come out at night and keep in by day. This
is their caution. Though under the stress of hunger and thirst, they
lie hidden, hardly venturing to slink secretly to the river bank in
search of food. This is their resoluteness. Nevertheless, they do not
escape the misfortune of the net and the trap. But what crime have they
committed? 'Tis their skin which is the cause of their trouble; and is
not the State of Lu your Highness' skin? I would have your Highness put
away body and skin alike, and cleansing your heart and purging it of
passion, betake yourself to the land where mortality is not.
TAO.
"In Nan-yüeh there is a district, called Established-Virtue. Its
people are simple and honest, unselfish, and without passions. They
can make, but cannot keep. They give, but look for no return. They are
not conscious of fulfilling obligations. They are not conscious of
subservience to etiquette.
Theirs is the natural etiquette of well-regulated minds.
Their actions are altogether uncontrolled, yet they tread in the way of
the wise. Life is for enjoyment; death, for burial. And thither I would
have your Highness proceed, power discarded and the world left behind,
only putting trust in TAO."
"The road is long and dangerous," said the prince. "Rivers and hills to
be crossed, and I without boat or chariot;--what then?"
"Unhindered by body and unfettered in mind," replied the philosopher,
"your Highness will be a chariot to yourself."
"But the road is long and dreary," argued the prince, "and uninhabited.
This is a play on "where mortality is not," above.
I shall have no one to turn to for help; and how, without food, shall I
ever be able to get there?"
"Decrease expenditure
Of energy.
and lessen desires," answered the philosopher, "and even though without
provisions, there will be enough. And then through river and over sea
your Highness will travel into shoreless illimitable space. From the
border-land, those who act as escort will return; but thence onwards
your Highness will travel afar.
"It is the human in ourselves which is our hindrance; and the human
in others which causes our sorrow. The great Yao had not this human
element himself, nor did he perceive it in others. And I would have
your Highness put off this hindrance and rid yourself of this sorrow,
and roam with TAO alone through the realms of Infinite Nought.
"Suppose a boat is crossing a river, and another empty boat is about to
collide with it. Even an irritable man would not lose his temper. But
supposing there was some one in the second boat. Then the occupant of
the first would shout to him to keep clear. And if the other did not
hear the first time, nor even when called to three times, bad language
would inevitably follow. In the first case there was no anger, in the
second there was; because in the first case the boat was empty, and in
the second it was occupied. And so it is with man. If he could only
roam empty through life, who would be able to injure him?"
With his mind in a negative state, closed to all impressions conveyed
within by the senses from without.
* * * * *
Pei Kung Shê, minister to Duke Ling of Wei, levied contributions for
making bells. An altar was built outside the city gate;
For purposes of sacrifice.
and in three months the bells, upper and lower, were all hung.
The bell-chime consisted of a frame with bells swung on an upper and
lower bar.
When Wang Tzŭ Ch'ing Chi
Minister to the ruling House of Chou.
saw them, he asked, saying, "How, Sir, did you manage this?"
"In the domain of ONE," replied Shê, "there may not be managing. I have
heard say that which is carved and polished reverts nevertheless to
its natural condition. And so I made allowances for ignorance and for
suspicion. I betrayed no feeling when welcomed or dismissed. I forbade
not those who came, nor detained those who went away. I showed no
resentment towards the unwilling, nor gratitude towards those who gave.
Every one subscribed what he liked; and thus in my daily collection of
subscriptions, no injury was done.--How much more then those who have
the great WAY?"
If my success was due to the simple principle above enunciated, what a
success would result from TAO, which is the infinite extension of such
principles into every phase of existence!
The Chinese word here used for "way," as a synonym of TAO, settles the
original meaning of the latter in the sense of "road." Thus Lao Tzŭ is
said to have explained that the WAY he taught was not the way which
could be walked upon.
* * * * *
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'ên and Ts'ai, he passed seven
days without food.
The minister Jen went to condole with him, and said, "You were near,
Sir, to death."
"I was indeed," replied Confucius.
"Do you fear death, Sir?" enquired Jen.
"I do," said Confucius.
"Then I will try to teach you," said Jen, "the way not to die.
"In the eastern sea there are certain birds, called the _i-êrh_.
They behave themselves in a modest and unassuming manner, as though
unpossessed of ability. They fly simultaneously: they roost in a body.
In advancing, none strives to be first; in retreating, none ventures to
be last. In eating, none will be the first to begin; it is considered
proper to take the leavings of others. Therefore, in their own ranks
they are at peace, and the outside world is unable to harm them. And
thus they escape trouble.
"Straight trees are the first felled. Sweet wells are soonest
exhausted. And you, you make a show of your knowledge in order to
startle fools. You cultivate yourself in contrast to the degradation of
others. And you blaze along as though the sun and moon were under your
arms; consequently, you cannot avoid trouble.
See p. 243.
"Formerly, I heard a very wise man say, Self-praise is no
recommendation. In merit achieved there is deterioration. In fame
achieved there is loss. Who can discard both merit and fame and become
one with the rest? TAO pervades all things but is not seen. TÊ
This is "virtue," the expression of TAO.
moves through all things but its place is not known. In its purity
and constancy, it may be compared with the purposeless. Remaining
concealed, rejecting power, it works not for merit nor for fame. Thus,
not censuring others, it is not censured by others.
"And if the perfect man cares not for fame, why, Sir, should you take
pleasure in it?"
"Good indeed!" replied Confucius; and forthwith he took leave of his
friends and dismissed his disciples and retired to the wilds, where he
dressed himself in skins and serge and fed on acorns and chestnuts. He
passed among the beasts and birds and they took no heed of him. And if
so, how much more among men?
An unquestionably spurious episode.
Confucius asked Tzŭ Sang Hu,
See ch. vi.
saying, "I have been twice expelled from Lu. My tree was cut down in
Sung. I have been tabooed in Wei. I am a failure in Shang and Chou. I
was surrounded between Ch'ên and Ts'ai. And in addition to all these
troubles, my friends have separated from me and my disciples are gone.
How is this?"
See p. 180.
"Have you not heard," replied Sang Hu, "how when the men of Kuo fled,
one of them, named Lin Hui, cast aside most valuable regalia and
carried away his child upon his back? Some one suggested that he was
influenced by the value of the child;--but the child's value was small.
Or by the inconvenience of the regalia;--but the inconvenience of the
child would be much greater. Why then did he leave behind the regalia
and carry off the child?
"Lin Hui himself said, 'The regalia involved a mere question of money.
The child was from God.'
"And so it is that in trouble and calamity mere money questions are
neglected, while we ever cling nearer to that which is from God. And
between neglecting and clinging to, the difference is great.
"The friendship of the superior man is negative like water. The
friendship of the mean man is full-flavoured like wine. That of the
superior man passes from the negative to the affectionate. That of the
mean man passes from the full-flavoured to nothing. The friendship of
the mean man begins without due cause, and in like manner comes to an
end.
"I hear and obey," replied Confucius; and forthwith he went quietly
home, put an end to his studies and cast aside his books. His disciples
no longer saluted him as teacher; but his love for them deepened every
day.
* * * * *
On another occasion, Sang Hu said to him again, "When Shun was about
to die, he commanded the Great Yü as follows:--Be careful. Act in
accordance with your physical body. Speak in accordance with your
feelings. You will thus not get into difficulty with the former nor
suffer annoyance in the latter. And as under these conditions you will
not stand in need of outward embellishment of any kind, it follows that
you therefore will not stand in need of anything."
Also an episode of doubtful authorship. The commentators, however,
have nothing to say against its genuineness.
Chuang Tzŭ put on cotton clothes with patches in them, and arranging
his girdle and tieing on his shoes,
To keep them from falling off.
went to see the prince of Wei.
"How miserable you look, Sir!" cried the prince.
"It is poverty, not misery," replied Chuang Tzŭ. "A man who has TAO
cannot be miserable. Ragged clothes and old boots make poverty, not
misery. Mine is what is called being out of harmony with one's age.
"Has your Highness never seen a climbing ape? Give it some large tree,
and it will twist and twirl among the branches as though monarch of all
it surveys. Yi and Fêng Mêng
An ancient archer and his apprentice.
can never catch a glimpse of it.
"But put it in a bramble bush, and it will move cautiously with
sidelong glances, trembling all over with fear. Not that its muscles
relax in the face of difficulty, but because it is at a disadvantage
as regards position, and is unable to make use of its skill. And how
should any one, living under foolish sovereigns and wicked ministers,
help being miserable, even though he might wish not to be so?
"It was under such circumstances that Pi Kan was disembowelled."
See ch. iv. The above episode is too much even for Chinese critics,
and has been condemned accordingly.
* * * * *
When Confucius was hemmed in between Ch'ên and Ts'ai and had gone seven
days without food, then, holding in his left hand a piece of dry wood
and in his right hand a dry stick, he sang a ballad of Piao Shih.
An ancient ruler.
He had an instrument, but the gamut was wanting. There was sound, but
no tune. The sound of the wood accompanied by the voice of the man
yielded a harsh result, but it was in keeping with the feelings of his
audience.
Yen Hui, who was standing by in a respectful attitude, thereupon began
to turn his eyes about him; and Confucius, fearing lest he should be
driven by exaltation into bragging, or by a desire for safety into
sorrow,
As a result of hearing the song.
spoke to him as follows:--
"Hui! it is easy to escape injury from God; it is difficult to avoid
the benefits of man. There is no beginning and there is no end. Man and
God are ONE. Who then was singing just now?"
"Pray, Sir, what do you mean," asked Yen Hui, "by saying that it is
easy to escape injury from God?"
"Hunger, thirst, cold, and heat," replied Confucius, "are but as
fetters in the path of life. They belong to the natural laws which
govern the universe; and in obedience thereto I pass on my allotted
course. The subject dares not disregard the mandates of his prince. And
if this is man's duty to man, how much more shall it be his duty to
God?"
"What is the meaning of difficult to avoid the benefits of man?" asked
Yen Hui.
"If one begins," replied Confucius, "by adaptation to surroundings,
rank and power follow without cease. Such advantages are external; they
are not derived from oneself. And my life is more or less dependent
upon the external. The superior man does not steal these; nor does the
good man pilfer them. What then do I but take them as they come?
"Therefore it has been said that no bird is so wise as the swallow. If
it sees a place unfit to dwell in, it will not bestow a glance thereon;
and even though it should drop food there, it will leave the food and
fly away. Now swallows fear man. Yet they dwell among men. Because
there they find their natural abode."
In the same way, man should adapt himself to the conditions which
surround him.
"And what is the meaning," enquired Yen Hui, "of no beginning and no
end?"
"The work goes on," replied Confucius, "and no man knoweth the cause.
How then shall he know the end, or the beginning? There is nothing left
to us but to wait."
"And that man and God are ONE," said Yen Hui. "What does that mean?"
"That man is," replied Confucius, "is from God. That God is, is also
from God. That man is not God, is his nature.
_Sc._ that which makes him man.
The Sage quietly waits for death as the end."
Which shall unite him once again with God.
When Chuang Tzŭ was wandering in the park at Tiao-ling, he saw a
strange bird which came from the south. Its wings were seven feet
across. Its eyes were an inch in circumference. And it flew close past
Chuang Tzŭ's head to alight in a chestnut grove.
"What manner of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "With strong wings it
does not fly away. With large eyes it does not see."
Or it would not have flown so near.
So he picked up his skirts and strode towards it with his cross-bow,
anxious to get a shot. Just then he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the
shade, forgetful of all else. And he saw a mantis spring and seize it,
forgetting in the act its own body, which the strange bird immediately
pounced upon and made its prey. And this it was which had caused the
bird to forget its own nature.
And approach so close to man.
* * * * *
This episode has been widely popularised in Chinese every-day life.
Its details have been expressed pictorially in a roughly-executed
woodcut, with the addition of a tiger about to spring upon the man,
and a well into which both will eventually tumble. A legend at the
side reads,--"All is Destiny!"
"Alas!" cried Chuang Tzŭ with a sigh, "how creatures injure one
another. Loss follows the pursuit of gain."
Those who would prey on others are preyed upon in turn themselves.
So he laid aside his bow and went home, driven away by the park-keeper
who wanted to know what business he had there.
For three months after this, Chuang Tzŭ did not leave the house; and at
length Lin Chü
A disciple.
asked him, saying, "Master, how is it that you have not been out for so
long?"
"While keeping my physical frame," replied Chuang Tzŭ, "I lost sight of
my real self. Gazing at muddy water, I lost sight of the clear abyss.
Besides, I have learnt from the Master as follows:--"When you go into
the world, follow its customs."
This saying is attributed, in uncanonical works, to Confucius. But if
any one was "Master" to Chuang Tzŭ, it would of course be Lao Tzŭ.
Now when I strolled into the park at Tiao-ling, I forgot my real self.
That strange bird which flew close past me to the chestnut grove,
forgot its nature. The keeper of the chestnut grove took me for a
thief. Consequently I have not been out."
* * * * *
When Yang Tzŭ
Yang Chu. See ch. viii.
went to the Sung State, he passed a night at an inn.
The innkeeper had two concubines, one beautiful, the other ugly. The
latter he loved; the former, he hated.
Yang Tzŭ asked how this was; whereupon one of the inn servants said,
"The beautiful one is so conscious of her beauty that one does not
think her beautiful. The ugly one is so conscious of her ugliness that
one does not think her ugly."
"Note this, my disciples!" cried Yang Tzŭ. "Be virtuous, but without
being consciously so; and wherever you go, you will be beloved."