[56] Emerson, however, also speaks of the “individual soul mingling with the Universal Soul.” Essays.
[57] Ch. 5.
CHAPTER VIII.
LAO-TZŬ AND CONFUCIUS.
It is not unusual for foreigners no less than for Chinese to speak of Lao-tzŭ and Confucius as having lived on very bad terms with each other and as having been diametrically opposite in their teachings. One Chinese scholar who ought to have known much better sins very badly in this respect. The excellent little book of Mr. Edkins on the Religious Condition of the Chinese contains the following: “Contemporary with Confucius, there was an old man afterwards known as Laou-tsoo, who meditated in a philosophic mood upon the more profound necessities and capacities of the human soul. He did so in a way that Confucius, the prophet of the practical, could not well comprehend. He conversed with him once, but never repeated his visit, for he could not understand him. Laou-tsoo recommended quiet reflection. Water that is still is also clear, and you may see deeply into it. Noise and passion are fatal to spiritual progress. The stars are invisible through a clouded sky. Nourish the perceptive powers of the soul in purity and rest.”[1] Others have expressed a similar opinion and with no more accuracy. This view, however, is not strictly correct. As has been seen, Confucius was a disciple of Lao-tzŭ, and there is no evidence to prove that any other than friendly relations existed between them. A Confucianist philosopher has somewhere remarked that Confucius and Lao-tzŭ were not the authors of opposite systems and founders of rival schools of philosophy, and the observation is quite correct. It was not until long after the two sages were dead that the followers of the one came to look on those of the other as heretics and enemies. Not only, however, did Confucius himself live in friendship with his instructor, so far as we know, but he also imbibed not a few of his tenets. The influence of Lao-tzŭ on his disciple, and the amount of similarity between the doctrines of the two are subjects well deserving a serious study. That they differ widely on many points is a fact known to everybody, but few, so far as my knowledge extends, have studied the affinities between them. To a thorough-going Confucianist the mere idea of doing such a a thing is horrible, and the Temple of Literature closed against the reception of the tablets of the rare individuals who have essayed the task, deters the after generations. By one, however, not anxious about his posthumous tablet, and who takes pleasure in finding how near the divergent lines of orthodoxy and heterodoxy may be found to have originally converged, the work may be attempted without any misgivings. The present writer can do nothing more than merely try to sketch a few of the features of resemblance between the teachings of the two sages in speculative Physics, Politics and Ethics, following the division adopted above.
The theories of Lao-tzŭ and Confucius on the physical world being probably merely the popular and traditional notions of the time, might naturally be expected to have not a little in common. For example, the emanation of the visible universe, including also all that makes up man, from an eternal existence at once material and immaterial, seems to have been an old idea with the Chinese, and it is found in the teachings of both the sages. Thus, as has been seen, the Tʽai-chi (太極) or Grand Extreme, as it is translated, is only Tao under another name. Indeed Confucius uses the latter word in this connection very much after the manner of Lao-tzŭ. In the appendix to the Yi-ching (易經) it is stated that what is antecedent to external form is called Tao;[2] and in another passage it is said that one passive and one active element (one Yin and one Yang) are called Tao.[3] In the Li-chi (禮記) Confucius says to Tzŭ-kung that Tao is that which the whole world, (天下 may also mean the empire), esteems.[4] Other writers also, such as the author of the preface to the Yi-ching, distinctly assert that the two terms Tʽai-chi and Tao have the same signification. Lao-tzŭ’s doctrine of dualism also, and his theory that contraries produce each other are found explicitly taught in the Confucian classics. Thus the Yi-ching says that hard and soft alternately thrust each other forth,[5] and in another passage it is said that the Yin and the Yang, or the passive and active elements or powers of nature, generate each other. Again Lao-tzŭ teaches that all the operations of Nature (Tao) and Heaven and earth are carried on without any show of effort, silently and quietly. So also does Confucius teach. In the Li-chi, for example, he says that the Tʽien-tao or Way of Heaven is to be without exertion and yet have the world completed.[6] In the Chung-yung a similar observation is made respecting Chʽêng (誠) which Legge translates “sincerity” but which is evidently another designation of Tao, as Mr. Meadows long ago stated.[7] Further, it is almost unnecessary to state that in the quinary classification of such things as tastes and colours our two sages perfectly agree. Not only, however, do we find the same ideas on these matters in Confucian classics and the Tao-tê Ching but we also not seldom find in them similar forms of expression.[8] Thus, for instance, the poetical metaphor by which Lao-tzŭ speaks of the sea and the great rivers as being kings to the small streams which flow into them is found in the Shu King and the Shi Khing. In the former the Chiang (江) and Han (漢) are described as proceeding to the sovereign Court of the Sea,[9] and in the latter it is written that the full tide flows back to pay court to the sea, but the people of the country forget their allegiance. It may be mentioned that we ourselves speak of tributary streams, and Tennyson has expressed the Chinese idea fully in the words
“Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver.”
Coming now to Politics we find that on Government and other matters connected with the State, the Confucian writings contain many opinions closely resembling those of Lao-tzŭ. Thus in the Lun-yü, Book xv., Confucius is represented as saying—“May not Shun be instanced as having governed efficiently without exertion? What did he do? He did nothing but gravely and reverently occupy his imperial seat.” Here the very expression of the Tao-tê Ching is used—無爲而治—and Dr. Legge has, I think, rightly translated wu-wei by “without exertion.”[10] So also in the Shu King it is said of King Wu, after his war with Shou was finished, that “he had only to let his robes fall down, and fold his hands, and the empire was orderly ruled.”[11] Other passages in the Lun-yü show us that Confucius also disliked war, and the petty squabbles into which the ambitious feudal chiefs of his time were constantly falling. Again, Lao-tzŭ has been greatly reproached by Confucianists and others for declining to continue in office under the kings of Chow, but he went little farther in this respect than his more fortunate disciple who was more earthly wise though less politically consistent. Each kept his precious gem secreted for years, but there was this difference, that Confucius was eager for a bidder who would please him, and Lao-tzŭ seeing there was no chance of a suitable bidder preferred to keep his gem. Not only, however, did Confucius himself abstain for a considerable time from active official life, but he also commended those of the past and some of his contemporaries who had retired into privacy during evil times, and his approbation of Ning-wu’s conduct is expressed in language worthy of Lao-tzŭ.[12] Besides, Confucius had the utmost contempt for the mandarins and chiefs of his time, and regarded them as either utter villains or as mere nobodies.[13] Again, just as Lao-tzŭ teaches that the ruler must first correct himself, making the purity of his own inner life his first and greatest care and then cultivating moral excellence in his family, so Confucius repeatedly teaches the same doctrine and illustrates it by the example of the ancients. Like ruler like people, is a maxim with him. If the sovereign be wicked the people also will be wicked, and if he be good they also will be good.[14] Lao-tzŭ says that government must be conducted by uprightness or rectitude (正). So Confucius says that to govern means to rectify, and in another passage he depicts the evil results of a government which is not conducted in uprightness. Another political doctrine which is stated expressly in the Tao-tê Ching is that capital punishment is the work of a superhuman agent and that no one on earth can safely act as proxy for that agent. Through all the Confucian writings also there runs the idea that it is Heaven or the Upper Ruler that is offended with wicked states, rebellious chiefs, or oppressive rulers, and that all national rewards and punishments come from the same source. Confucius, however, and his followers seem to have believed that the virtuous neighbouring state, the pious sovereign, or the successful rebel received a Heavenly edict to annex the wicked territory, slay the mutinous chief, or dethrone the impious prince—a political idea not confined to ancient times or to China. Yet there are several passages in the Classics which seem to represent Confucius, too, as forbidding, or at least disapproving of, capital punishment. Thus in the Lun-yü he is made to say to Chi-kʽang, who had asked him about slaying the bad in order to perfect the good—“Why use capital punishment at all? Do you desire virtue and the people will be virtuous. The moral character of the ruler is to that of his subjects as wind is to grass—when the wind blows the grass bends.”[15] And in another passage he is represented as approving of an old saying that after good government for a hundred years capital punishment might be dispensed with.[16] Another maxim of the Tao-tê Ching also inculcated by Confucius is this—that the sovereign ought to anticipate and be prepared for reverses of fortune—that he ought to devise measures for repressing rebellion while as yet there is no sign of disturbance; this, says the Shu King, was the method pursued by the ancient rulers.[17] So also both sages taught that the ruler should always be grave and serious, mindful of the solemn charge which he has received from Heaven.[18] In the Confucian writings, again, no less than in the Tao-tê Ching, rulers are forbidden to covet and strive for rare and outlandish objects, such things having a tendency to stir up strife and lead the heart astray.[19] Further in the high pre-eminence assigned to the sovereign, Confucius is of the same mind with Lao-tzŭ. As the latter ranks him with Heaven and Earth, so also does the former.[20] In the opinion of each he reigns by divine right, and is himself indeed at least half divine. Son of Heaven is a frequent designation of him in the Classics. Confucius indeed in some places is much more wildly extravagant in his statements about the sovereign than we would be inclined to expect. Finally, to both sages the great and paramount consideration for a prince or chief seemed to be the peace and prosperity of his people. Light taxes, few legal restrictions, and a general kind treatment are strongly recommended by both.[21] They differ, however, in this respect that while Lao-tzŭ overlooks or slights education, Confucius regards it as of great importance; but few who know the nature of the education which Confucius recommended to his son of carp-derived name, but which he did not give him, would be disposed to regret the want of it in a ruler or magistrate.
It now remains to speak of the Ethical teachings of Lao-tzŭ and Confucius, and here also we find considerable similarity, only a few instances of which can now be indicated. As Confucius disclaimed the distinction of being original in his views, I am much inclined to believe that the resemblance between the doctrines of the classics and those of the Tao-tê Ching often point to a borrowing on the part of the former from the latter. The low place which is assigned to intellectual and mechanical accomplishment in this work seems to be wrong, and Confucius would scarcely go so far. He too, however, places virtue above wisdom, and seems sometimes to think that perfect virtue ensures to its possessor other and less noble qualities. He is not unmindful of the value of intellectual acquirements and assigns to them considerable importance. It must be remembered besides that the accomplishments of which Lao-tzŭ speaks disparagingly are those more for show than utility, and that in this respect Confucius is at one with him. The vice of talking specious and flattering words is condemned by the one as strongly as by the other. Artful words and a clever appearance are seldom virtuous, is a sentence which Confucius is represented as repeating on several occasions.[22] In the Yi-ching it is said that the good man talks little and the violent man talks much.[23] Here it is worthy of notice that the word which is opposed to chi (吉), good, is not hsiung (凶), wicked, but tsʽao (躁), a word which means fierce or violent. Indeed Confucius insists on the gentle life no less earnestly than Lao-tzŭ, although he is not always consistent. He also recommends abstinence from litigation. Like Lao-tzŭ he teaches that the man of extensive influence ought to abase himself before others—ought to yield and never wrangle.[24] On some occasions Confucius is represented as holding the maxim that what a man would not desire another to do to him he should not do to others,[25] while he is also represented as objecting to the words of Lao-tzŭ that injury should be repaid by kindness.[26] But on the other hand he makes it one of the characteristics of the Chŭn-tzŭ (君子) or noble man, that he does not strive, and a yielding, forbearing disposition is one of the virtues which admiring disciples have assigned to “the Master” himself. In connection with this it may be mentioned that the Confucian writings are as bitter as the Tao-tê Ching against the show and consciousness of being virtuous. The words of the Emperor Shun to Yü as recorded in the Shu King are very like those of Lao-tzŭ, “Without any prideful presumption, there is no one in the empire to contest with you the palm of ability; without any boasting, there is no one in the empire to contest with you the claim of merit.”[27]
The lofty eminence on which Lao-tzŭ places the God-like man is not greater than that to which Confucius raises him. This person ranks, according to both, with Heaven and Earth, and assists these in their great unceasing labours of producing, nourishing, and ruling the creatures of the universe.[28] With Heaven and Earth he makes a trinity, and is scarcely inferior to them. Like Heaven, which he imitates, he is free from partialities, and is universal in his sympathies.[29] One of the philosophers, Chʽêng, a Confucianist after the most straitest sect, forgets his master’s doctrine in this respect and through excess of orthodoxy actually becomes heterodox.[30] Criticising Lao-tzŭ’s statement that Heaven, Earth, and the God-like man are pu jen (不仁), that is, are without any partialities or particular affection, he says that we may make this remark of Heaven and Earth but not of the God-like man who feels for and compassionates his fellow creatures, and thus is able to enlarge his way of life.[31] This author, however, seems to be here guilty of a sophisma equivocationis, as jĕn in the former part of the paragraph is used in a bad sense while in the latter part it has a good sense. The words of the King of Chow to the newly appointed Chief Hu on this subject are very similar to those of Lao-tzŭ—“Great Heaven has no affections—it helps only the virtuous.”[32] So also, as Lao-tzŭ says it is Heaven’s way to take from that which has too much and give to that which wants, the Shu-ching says in like terms “It is virtue which moves Heaven; there is no distance to which it does not reach. Pride brings loss, and humility receives increase:—this is the way of Heaven.”[33]