THE LIFE OF LAO-TZŬ.
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.
Such is the sum of the probably true information which I have
succeeded in obtaining about this remarkable man. Many things that we
would have liked to know about him are wanting, and part of what we
have seems uncertain. In his birth and in his death he was mysterious,
and through all his life he seems to have courted obscurity. He tells
us himself that he appeared to mankind stupid and helpless, but that
he had within himself precious treasures of which the world did not
know.[25] To me he seems to have been a kind and gentle old
philosopher, who thought more of what was beyond this world than about
what was in it. I cannot find in him those traits of moroseness and
cynicism which others have found, nor any trace of the jealousy and
spite with which he is said to have regarded Confucius.[26] Chu-hsi
(朱熹) or Chu fu tzŭ, represents him as a man standing aloof from the
ordinary ways of men, loving neither their sounds nor their sights,
and not living an official life.[27] Confucius himself refers to
Lao-tzŭ with affectionate respect, and quotes his opinions as
sufficient answers to the questions of his own disciples. He speaks of
him as extensively read in antiquity and acquainted with the present,
as having penetrated to the sources of Rites and Music, and as
understanding what belonged to Tao and Tê (道德之歸).[28] The old man
who thought that in troubled times, like those in which they were
living, men of wisdom and virtue ought not to make a display of those
qualities, but rather to appear to the world destitute of them, when
he found his former pupil parading the kingdom with a crowd of
disciples (one of whom acted as his car driver), going from court to
court admonishing and scolding the chiefs, thought it his duty to give
the youthful reformer a sharp reproof and an earnest warning. His
advice was excellent, and Confucius found out at last that the
restoration of peace and good government to a country was not to be
effected so easily as he had thought, even though the preacher of
reform dressed unimpeachably, ate and drank only the best he could
get, had an excellent ear for music, and knew the decrees of Heaven.
I shall now proceed to give a short sketch of the legendary account of
Lao-tzŭ, as related in the Records of Spirits and Fairies and other
books.
According, to some writers Lao-tzŭ was a spiritual being, eternal and
self-existing, manifesting himself as a human being on the earth at
various times and under various names. One author, indeed, puts words
like these into the mouth of the sage himself.[29] The most celebrated
of his incarnations was that which occurred during the early part of
the Chou dynasty. On this memorable occasion his mother, who had
conceived by the influence of a shooting star, brought him forth under
a Li (李) or plum tree, a circumstance from which he derived his
surname. For seventy-two long years (or, according to a more cruel
author, for eighty-one years) had he remained in the wretched woman’s
womb, and at last he delivered himself by bursting a passage under his
mother’s left arm. From his having at his birth gray hairs and the
general appearance of an old man, he was called the _Old Boy_ (Lao-tzŭ
老子)[30]; though some have conjectured that this was the nature of his
mother’s family, which was given to the child because his mother
obtained him in an improper manner. One writer says that Lao-tzŭ could
speak immediately on being born, and that he himself intimated at the
time that the plum tree under which he emerged into the world would
furnish his name. Another says that so soon as he was born he mounted
nine paces in the air—his step producing a lotus flower—and while
poised there, he pointed with his left hand to heaven and with his
right hand to earth, saying: “In Heaven above and on earth beneath it
is only Tao which is worthy of honour.” The same author remarks that
Shâkyamuni on his birth rose seven paces in the air, and pointing in a
similar manner to heaven and earth pronounced himself alone worthy of
honour. He observes very properly that there ought not to be such a
coincidence.
When his mother got an opportunity of examining her wonderful child,
she found him a veritable prodigy. Not only had he gray hairs, but he
had also very large ears. Hence came his name Êrh (耳), that is, Ears,
or as others give it Chung-êrh (重耳), Heavy ears.[31] Each ear
terminated in a point and had three passages. Besides these
peculiarities the infant had handsome eyebrows—large eyes—a
double-ridged nose—square mouth with thick lips. His hands had
ornamental inscriptions on them, and the soles of his feet presented
the mysterious numbers, two and five, of which the former represents
heaven and the latter earth. He had also many other larger and smaller
bodily virtues and beauties.[32]
Lao-tzŭ left heavenly purity and honour for earthly pollution and
office. It was under the Heaven-blessed kings Wên (文王) and Wu (武王)
that he first took service in the state as Treasury keeper and then as
Assistant historiographer. This account, however, would make him
survive for the more than patriarchal period of five hundred years. He
is represented as having several interviews with Confucius who, as Szŭ
Ma-chien also relates, compared him to a dragon which in a mysterious
and inexplicable manner mounts a cloud and soars into heaven. This, as
Rémusat has observed, was intended as a compliment, the dragon being
with the Chinese a symbol of what is exalted and not unattended by a
mysterious power.[33]
On retiring from office Lao-tzŭ proceeded westward intending to pass
through the Han-ku-kwan (函谷關) to the Kunlun mountains and other distant
places. Yin-hsi (尹喜), however, the keeper of the pass, who had known
from the state of the weather that a sage was to come his way,
recognised Lao-tzŭ for such and detained him until he had himself
learned Tao. The time came, however, when the two worthies had to
part. Lao-tzŭ informed Yin-hsi that he would have to leave him and go
away on a long wandering through the boundless realms of space.
Yin-hsi begged earnestly that he might be allowed to go with
him—saying that he was prepared to follow the Great Genius through
fire and water above the heavens and beneath the earth. Lao-tzŭ
declined the offer, but presented his old friend with five thousand
words on Tao and Tê.
The pathetic state of affairs was now rudely interrupted. Just as
Lao-tzŭ was about to take his departure it was found that his old
servant Hsü-chia (徐甲), who had attended him for more than two hundred
years without pay, seeing Lao-tzŭ about to set out on an apparently
unlimited pilgrimage, demanded payment. The arrears of wages due to
him amounted to 7,200,000 cash, and he applied to a friend who got
Yin-hsi to speak to the sage. This friend gave his handsome daughter
in marriage to Hsü-chia, who was quite delighted with the arrangement.
Just at this time, however, the master appeared and told Chia that he
ought to remember from what a poor condition he had been raised, and
that he would have been dead long ago had it not been for the charm of
long life which had been given to him. He also informed Chia that, as
he had previously promised, he had intended to pay the debt in gold on
reaching An-hsi (安息), a country which Biot identifies with that of
the Parthians. Yielding to the last vestige of earthly infirmity
Lao-tzŭ became angry and ordered Chia to fall on his face to the
ground and open his mouth. The latter could not but obey, he fell to
the ground, the charm came forth fresh as when it was swallowed, and
Chia lay like a shrivelled mummy. Through the kindness of Yin-hsi, who
recognised the miraculous power of Lao-tzŭ, and knocked his head on
the ground to him, the ungrateful creditor was restored to life by the
same wondrous charm. Yin-hsi also paid him on behalf of Lao-tzŭ the
generous sum of 2,000,000 cash, and sent him away.
Lao-tzŭ having now settled all his mundane affairs, bade farewell to
the keeper of the Pass, telling him that he would return to earth
after the lapse of a thousand days and that he would be recognised by
the sign of a Chʽing Yang (青羊), literally, an azure sheep. He then
mounted a cloud and soared out of sight of the weeping Yin-hsi in a
dazzling glare of light away into the etherial regions, to his home in
the heavens.[34]
[1] Tʽai-pʽing-kwang-chī (太平廣志) ch. 1; and the Shen-hsien-chuan,
vol. 1.
[2] Shi-chi—老莊申韓列傳三
[3] An author named Chʽen (陳) quoted by Ma Tuan-lin, says that, as
_Tan_ means flat-eared, it is not probable that it would be given as
a posthumous title. Perhaps it is better to regard it as a name or
nickname given to him during life.
[4] Wên-hsíen-tʽung-kʽao (文獻通考), Ch. 211.
[5] Chine, p. 111.
[6] Tao-tê-king, Introduction, Note 1 on page xix.
[7] See the 十字全書, the extract from Szŭ Ma-chien.
[8] Dict. Villes et Arrond., p. 244.
[9] Julien, Tao-tê-king, Introduction, Note 2 on page xix.
[10] Tʽung-chien-kang-mu, Ch. 41.
[11] Chine, p. 112.
[12] Li-chi, Ch. 3, Sect. 74, Note.
[13] See the Chia-yü (家語), Vol. 1, Ch. 3.
[14] Ch. Classics, Vol. 1, Proleg., p. 65.
[15] Kʽang-hsi’s Dictionary. Character _Chu_ (柱).
[16] See his works, Ch 5, p. 27, the Tien Yun (天運) section.
[17] Chia-yü, Vol. 1, Ch. 3.
[18] Shï chi, Lao-tzŭ.
[19] See Chia-yü, Vol. 1, Ch. 3.
[20] Shï chi, Lao-tzŭ.
[21] See Chia-yü, Vol. 1, Ch. 3.
[22] Shï chi, 1, c.
[23] For the distracted state of China about this period, one may read
the Shi-ching, the Tʽung-chien, Chʽun-chʽiu, the Lun-yü, and other
books.
[24] See 十字全書, Introduction.
[25] Tao-tê Ching, Chs. 20 and 67.
[26] See, for instance, a very unfair article on Confucius in the
_Fortnightly Review_ for May, 1868, by Sir J. Bowring.
[27] 朱子全書, Ch. 58.
[28] Chia-yü (家語), Ch. 3.
[29] See the Yuan-chien-lei-han (淵鑑類幽), Ch, 318.
[30] Chalmers translates this “old philosopher.”
[31] See the Records of Spirits and Fairies. Art. 老子. Julien
has translated this Chapter in the Introduction to his Tao-tê
Ching.
[32] See 老子志略 in the 十字全書. Also compare the similar legends about
the Buddha in Hardy’s Manual of Buddhism, pages 367–8–9.
[33] See his Mémoire sur la vie &c., de Lao-tseu, ps. 5 & 6.
[34] One author, however, represents him as travelling far away to
the West and becoming again incarnate as Gotama Buddha—see
Yuan-chien &c., ch. 317.