Concerning the life of Laò-tsé, the founder of the smallest of the three sects of China (Confucians, Buddhists, and Taouists), we have only the most meagre information. Scarcely anything is known either of his personal character or of his doctrine, except through his book. His birth-year is unknown to us, and can only be approximately determined by means of the date assigned to his famous interview with his great contemporary, Confucius. This occurred in B. C. 517, when Laò-tsé was very old. He may, therefore, have been born about the year B. C. 600.[14] All we can say of his career is, that he held an office in the State of Tseheu, that of "writer (or historian) of the archives." When visited by Confucius, who was the master of a rival school, he is said to have addressed him in these terms:—"Those whom you talk about are dead, and their bones are mouldered to dust; only their words remain. When the superior man gets his time, he mounts aloft; but when the time is against him, he moves as if his feet were entangled. I have heard that a good merchant, though he has rich treasures deeply stored, appears as if he were poor; and that the superior man, whose virtue is complete, is yet to outward seeming stupid. Put away your proud air and many desires; your insinuating habit and wild will. These are of no advantage to you. This is all which I have to tell you." After this interview, Confucius thus expressed his opinion of the older philosopher to his disciples:—"I know how birds can fly, how fishes can swim, and how animals can run. But the runner may be snared, the swimmer may be hooked, and the flyer may be shot by the arrow. But there is the dragon. I cannot tell how he mounts on the wind through the clouds and rises to heaven. To-day I have seen Laò-tsé, and can only compare him to the dragon" (C. C., vol. i. Proleg. p. 65.—T. T. K., p. liii.—L. T.., p. iv).
Troubles in the State in which he held office induced him to retire, and to seek the frontier. Here the officer in command requested him to write a book, the result of which request was the Taò-tĕ-Kīng. "No one knows," says the Chinese historian, "where he died. Laò-tsé was a hidden sage" (T. T. K., p. lvi).
To this very scanty historical information we may add such indications as Laò-tsé himself has given us of his personality. One of these is contained in the twentieth chapter of his work, in which he tells us that while other men are radiant with pleasure, he is calm, like a child that does not yet smile. He wavers to and fro, as one who knows not where to turn. Other men have abundance; he is as it were deprived of all. He is like a stupid fellow, so confused does he feel. Ordinary men are enlightened; he is obscure and troubled in mind. Like the sea he is forgotten, and driven about like one who has no certain resting-place. All other men are of use; he alone is clownish like a peasant. He alone is unlike other men, but he honors the nursing mother (T. T. K., ch. xx).
It is obvious that an estimate so depreciatory is not to be taken literally. To understand its full significance, it should be compared to the magnificent description in Plato's Theætetus of the outward appearance presented by the philosopher, who, in presence of practical men, is the jest alike of "Thracian handmaids," and of the "general herd;" who is "unacquainted with his next-door neighbor;" who is "ignorant of what is before him, and always at a loss;" and who is so awkward and useless when called on to perform some menial office, such as "packing up a bag, or flavoring a sauce, or fawning speech." Yet this philosopher, like Laò-tsé, "honors his nursing Mother;" he moves in a sphere of thought where men of the world cannot follow him, and where they in their turn are lost (Theætetus, 174-176). Just such a character as that drawn by Plato, Laò-tsé seems to have been. Living in retirement, and devoted to philosophy, he appeared to his contemporaries an eccentric and incompetent person. Yet he says that they called him great (Ch. lxvii), which seems to imply that his reputation was already founded in his life-time.
One other reference to himself must not be omitted, for it evinces the sense he had of the nature of his work in the world. "My words," so he writes in his paradoxical manner, "are very easy to understand, very easy to follow,—no one in the world is able to understand them, no one is able to follow them. The words have an author, the works have one who enjoins them; but he is not understood, therefore I am not understood" (Ch. lxx). On this Stanislas Julien observes, "There is not a word of Laò-tsé's that has not a solid foundation. In fact, they have for their origin and basis Tao and Virtue" (L. V. V. p. 269, n. 2). These expressions, then, suffice to show that Laò-tsé was not destitute of that sense of inspiration of which other great prophets have been so profoundly conscious.
Section III.—Gautama Buddha.[15]
Subdivision 1. The Historical Buddha.
Were we to write the history of the Buddha according to the fashion of Buddhist historians, we should have to begin our story several ages before his birth. For the theory of his disciples is, that during many millions of years, through an almost innumerable series of different lives, he had been preparing himself for the great office of the savior of humanity which he at length assumed. Only by the practice of incredible self-denial, and unbounded virtue, during all the long line of human births he was destined to undergo, could he become fitted for that consummate duty, the performance of which at last released him forever from the bonds of existence. For the total extinction of conscious life, not its continuation in a better sphere, is, or at any rate was, the goal of the pious Buddhist. And it was the crowning merit of the Buddha, that he not only sought this reward for himself, but qualified himself by ages of endurance to enlighten others as to the way in which it might be earned.
But we will not encumber ourselves with the pre-historic Buddha, the tales of whose deeds are palpable fictions, but will endeavor to unravel the thread of genuine fact which probably runs through the accepted life of Sakyamuni in his final appearance upon earth. And here we are met with a preliminary difficulty. That life is not guaranteed by any trustworthy authority. It cannot be traced back to any known disciple of Buddha. It cannot be shown to have been written within a century after his death, and it may have been written later. Ancient, however, it undoubtedly is. For the separation of northern from southern Buddhism occurred at an early period in the history of the Church, probably about two hundred years after the death of its founder; and this life is the common property of all sections of Buddhists. It was consequently current before that separation. But its antiquity does not make it trustworthy. On the contrary, it is constructed in accordance with an evident design. Every incident has a definite dogmatic value, and stands in well-marked dogmatic relations to the rest. There is nothing natural or spontaneous about them. Everything has its proper place, and its distinct purpose. And it is useless to attempt to deal with such a life on the rationalistic plan of sifting the historical from the fabulous; the natural and possible from the miraculous and impossible elements. The close intermixture of the two renders any such process hopeless. We are, in fact, with regard to the life of Gautama Buddha, much in the position that we should be in with regard to the life of Jesus Christ, had we no records to consult but the apocryphal gospels.
Nevertheless, while holding that his biography can never now be written, it is by no means my intention to imply that it is impossible to know anything about him. On the contrary, a picture not wholly imaginary may unquestionably be drawn of the character and doctrines of the great teacher of the Asiatic continent. Let us venture on the attempt.