(8) "Now Ai T'ai T'o says nothing, and is trusted. He does nothing, and is sought after. He causes a man to offer him the government of his own State, and the only fear is lest he should decline. Truly his talents are perfect and his virtue without outward form!" "What do you mean by his talents being perfect?" asked the Duke. "Life and Death," replied Confucius, "existence and non-existence, success and non-success, poverty and wealth, virtue and vice, good and evil report, hunger and thirst, warmth and cold,—these all revolve upon the changing wheel of Destiny. Day and night they follow one upon the other, and no man can say where each one begins. Therefore they cannot be allowed to disturb the harmony of the organism, nor enter into the soul's domain. Swim however with the tide, so as not to offend others. Do this day by day without break, and live in peace with mankind. Thus you will be ready for all contingencies, and may be said to have your talents perfect." "And virtue without outward form; what is that?" "In a water-level," said Confucius, "the water is in a most perfect state of repose. Let that be your model. The water remains quietly within, and does not overflow. It is from the cultivation of such harmony that virtue results. And if virtue takes no outward form, man will not be able to keep aloof from it."

(10) "The true Sage," answered Tzŭ Ch'i, "keeps his knowledge within him, while men in general set forth theirs in argument, in order to convince each other. And therefore it is said that in argument he does not manifest himself. "Perfect Tao does not declare itself. Nor does perfect argument express itself in words. Nor does perfect charity show itself in act. Nor is perfect honesty absolutely incorruptible. Nor is perfect courage absolutely unyielding. "For the Tao which shines forth is not Tao. Speech which argues falls short of its aim. Charity which has fixed points loses its scope. Honesty which is absolute is wanting in credit. Courage which is absolute misses its object. These five are, as it were, round, with a strong bias towards squareness. Therefore that knowledge which stops at what it does not know, is the highest knowledge. "Who knows the argument which can be argued without words?—the Tao which does not declare itself as Tao? He who knows this may be said to be of God. To be able to pour in without making full, and pour out without making empty, in igno rance of the power by which such results are accomplished,—this is accounted Light."

(3) And it was in this sense that the younger brother was caused to become a Mihist. Whereas a man who should regard his distinctive abilities as of his own making, without reference to his parents, would be like the man of Ch'i who dug a well and then wanted to keep others away from it. Hence the saying that the men of to-day are all Huans. Wherefore it follows that men of true virtue are unconscious of its possession. How much more then the man of Tao? This is what the ancients called escaping the vengeance of God. The true Sage rests in that which gives rest, and not in that which does not give rest. The world rests in that which does not give rest, and not in that which does give rest. Chuang Tzŭ said, "To know Tao is easy. The difficulty lies in the elimination of speech. To know Tao without speech appertains to the natural. To know Tao with speech appertains to the artificial. The men of old were natural, not artificial. "Chu P'ing Man spent a large patrimony in learning under Chih Li I how to kill dragons. By the end of three years he was perfect, but there was no direction in which he could show his skill. "The true Sage regards certainties as uncertainties; therefore he is never up in arms. Men in general regard uncertainties as certainties; therefore they are constantly up in arms. To accustom oneself to arms causes one to fly to arms on every provocation; and to trust to arms is to perish."

(6) "Exactly so," replied the Master. "Let me tell you. If you can enter this man's domain without offending his amour propre, cheerful if he hears you, passive if he does not; without science, with out drugs, simply living there in a state of complete indifference,—you will be near success. It is easy to stop walking: the trouble is to walk without touching the ground. As an agent of man, it is easy to deceive; but not as an agent of God. You have heard of winged creatures flying. You have never heard of flying without wings. You have heard of men being wise with wisdom. You have never heard of men wise without wisdom. "Look at that window. Through it an empty room becomes bright with scenery; but the landscape stops outside. Were this not so, we should have an exemplification of sitting still and running away at one and the same time. "In this sense, you may use your ears and eyes to communicate within, but shut out all wisdom from the mind. And there where the supernatural can find shelter, shall not man find shelter too? This is the method for regenerating all creation. It was the instrument which Yü and Shun employed. It was the secret of the success of Fu Hsi and Chi Chü. Shall it not then be adopted by mankind in general?" Tzŭ Kao, Duke of Shê,

(3) Those of old who were called retired scholars, were not men who hid their bodies, or kept back their words, or concealed their wisdom. It was that the age was not suitable for their mission. If the age was suitable and their mission a success over the empire, they simply effaced themselves in the unity which prevailed. If the age was unsuitable and their mission at failure, they fell back upon their own resources and waited. Such is the way to preserve oneself. Those of old who preserved themselves, did not ornament their knowledge with rhetoric. They did not exhaust the empire with their knowledge. They did not exhaust virtue. They kept quietly to their own spheres, and reverted to their natural instincts. What then was left for them to do? Tao does not deal with detail. Virtue does not take cognizance of trifles. Trifles injure virtue; detail injures Tao. Wherefore it has been said, "Self-reformation is enough." He whose happiness is complete has attained his desire. Of old, attainment of desire did not mean office. It meant that nothing could be added to the sum of happiness. But now it does mean office, though office is external and is not a part of oneself. That which is adventitious, comes. Coming, you cannot prevent it; going, you cannot arrest it. Therefore, not to look on office as the attainment of desire, and not because of poverty to become a toady, but to be equally happy under all conditions,—this is to be without sorrow. But now-a-days, both having and not having are causes of unhappiness. From which we may infer that even happiness is not exempt from sorrow. Wherefore it has been said, "Those who over-estimate the external and lose their natural instincts in worldliness,—these are the people of topsy-turvydom."

(11) "Not so this manner of man. Aiming at Tao, he perfects his virtue. By perfecting his virtue he perfects his body, and by perfecting his body he perfects his spiritual part. And the perfection of the spiritual part is the Tao of the Sage. Coming into life he is as one of the people, knowing not whither he is bound. How complete is his purity? Success, profit, skill,—these have no place in his heart. Such a man, if he does not will it, he does not stir; if he does not wish it, he does not act. If all the world praises him, he does not heed. If all the world blames him, he does not repine.

(2) Was not this stealing the State of Ch'i and the wisdom-tricks of the Sages as well in order to secure himself from the consequences of such theft? This amounts to what I have already said, namely that nothing of what the world esteems great wit is otherwise than serviceable to strong thieves, and that nothing of what the world calls great wisdom is other than a protection to strong thieves. Let us take another example. Of old, Lung Fêng was beheaded, Pi Kan was disembowelled, Chang Hung was sliced to death, Tzŭ Hsü was chopped to mince-meat. All these four were Sages, but their wisdom could not preserve them from death. An apprentice to Robber Chê asked him saying, "Is there then Tao in thieving?" "Pray tell me of something in which there is not Tao," Chê replied. "There is the wisdom by which booty is located. The courage to go in first, and the heroism of coming out last. There is the shrewdness of calculating success, and justice in the equal division of the spoil. There has never yet been, a great robber who was not possessed of these five." Thus the doctrine of the Sages is equally indis pensable to good men and to Chê. But good men are scarce and bad men plentiful, so that the good the Sages do to the world is little and the evil great. Therefore it has been said, "If the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold." It was the thinness of the wine of Lu which caused the siege of Han Tan.

(8) Those who are devoted to the internal, in practice acquire no reputation. Those who are devoted to the external, strive for pre-eminence among their fellows. Practice without reputation throws a halo around the meanest. But he who strives for pre-eminence among his fellows, he is as a huckster whose weariness all perceive though he himself puts on an air of gaiety. "He who is naturally in sympathy with man, to him all men come. But he who forcedly adapts, has no room even for himself, still less for others. And he who has no room for others, has no ties. It is all over with him. "There is no weapon so deadly as man's will. Excalibur is second to it. There is no bandit so powerful as Nature. In the whole universe there is no escape from it. Yet it is not Nature which does the injury. It is man's own heart. " Tao informs its own subdivisions, their successes and their failures. What is feared in subdivision is separation. What is feared in separation, is further separation. Thus, to issue forth without return, this is development of the supernatural. To issue forth and attain the goal, this is called death. To be annihilated and yet to exist, this is convergence of the supernatural into One. To make things which have form appear to all intents and purposes formless,—this is the sum of all things.

(6) By Inaction, one can become the centre of thought, the focus of responsibility, the arbiter of wisdom. Full allowance must be made for others, while remaining unmoved oneself. There must be a thorough compliance with divine principles, without any manifestation thereof. All of which may be summed up in the one word passivity. For the perfect man employs his mind as a mirror. It grasps nothing: it refuses nothing. It receives, but does not keep. And thus he can triumph over matter, without injury to himself. The ruler of the southern sea was called Shu. The ruler of the northern sea was called Hu. The ruler of the central zone was called Hun Tun. Shu and Hu often met on Hun Tun's territory, and being always well treated by him, determined to repay his kindness. They said, "All men have seven holes,—for seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing. Hun Tun alone has none. We will bore some for him." So every day they bored one hole; but on the seventh day Hun Tun died.

(1) Among the disciples of Lao Tzŭ was one named Kêng Sang Ch'u. He alone had attained to the Tao of his Master. He lived up north, on the Wei-lei Mountains. Of his attendants, he dismissed those who were systematically clever or conventionally charitable. The useless remained with him; the incompetent served him. And in three years the district of Wei-lei was greatly benefited. One of the inhabitants said in conversation, "When Mr. Kêng Sang first came among us, we did not know what to make of him. Now, we could not say enough about him in a day, and even a year would leave something unsaid. Surely he must be a true Sage. Why not pray to him as to the spirits, and honour him as a tutelary god of the land?" On hearing of this, Kêng Sang Ch'u turned his face to the south in shame, at which his disciples were astonished. But Kêng Sang said, "What cause have you for astonishment? The influence of spring quickens the life of plants, and autumn brings them to maturity. In the absence of any agent, how is this so? It is the operation of Tao. "I have heard that the perfect man may be pent up like a corpse in a tomb, yet the people will become unartificial and without care. But now these poor people of Wei-lei wish to exalt me among their wise and good. Surely then I am but a shallow vessel; and therefore I was shamed for the doctrine of Lao Tzŭ."

(13) When Confucius went to Ch'u, the prince entertained him at a banquet. Sun Shu Ao stood up with a goblet of wine in his hand, and I Liao of Shih-nan poured a libation, saying, "On such occasions as this, the men of old were wont to make some utterance." "Mine," replied Confucius, "is the doctrine of wordless utterances. Shall I who make no utterances, make utterance now? "I Liao of Shih-nan played with his ball, and the trouble of two houses was arranged. Sun Shu Ao remained quietly in repose, and the men of Ying threw down their arms. I should want a three-foot tongue indeed! "Theirs was the Tao of inaction. His was the argument of silence. Wherefore, for Tê to rest in undivided Tao, and for speech to stop at the unknowable,—this is perfection. "With undivided Tao, Tê cannot be coincident. No argument can demonstrate the unknowable. Subdivision into Confucianists and Mihists only makes confusion worse confounded. "The sea does not reject the streams which flow eastward into it. Therefore it is immeasurably great. The true Sage folds the universe in his bosom. His good influence benefits all throughout the empire, without respect to persons. Born without rank, he dies without titles. He does not take credit for realities. He does not establish a name. This is to be a great man. "A dog is not considered a good dog because he is a good barker. A man is not considered a good man because he is a good talker. How much less in the case of greatness? And if doing great things is not enough to secure greatness, how much less shall it secure virtue?

(9) "Just so," rejoined Lao Tzŭ. "Were Tao something which could be presented, there is no man but would present it to his sovereign, or to his parents. Could it be imparted or given, there is no man but would impart it to his brother or give it to his child. But this is impossible, for the following reason. Unless there is a suitable endowment within, Tao will not abide. Unless there is outward correctness, Tao will not operate. The external being unfitted for the impression of the internal, the true Sage does not seek to imprint. The internal being unfitted for the reception of the external, the true Sage does not seek to receive. "Reputation is public property; you may not appropriate it in excess. Charity and duty to one's neighbour are as caravanserais established by wise rulers of old; you may stop there one night, but not for long, or you will incur reproach. "The perfect men of old took their road through charity, stopping a night with duty to their neighbour, on their way to ramble in transcendental space. Feeding on the produce of non-cultivation, and establishing themselves in the domain of no obligations, they enjoyed their transcendental inaction. Their food was ready to hand; and being under no obligations to others, they did not put any one under obligation to themselves. The ancients called this the outward visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

(7) They suffered obloquy without noticing the insult. They preserved the people from strife. They prohibited aggression and caused arms to lie unused. They saved their generation from wars, and carried their system over the whole empire, to the delight of the high and to the improvement of the lowly. Though the world would have none of them, yet they struggled on and would not give way. Hence it was said that when high and low became tired of seeing them, they intruded themselves by force. In spite of all this, they did too much for others, and too little for themselves. "Give us," said they, "but five pints of rice, and it will be enough." The master could not thus eat his fill; but the disciples, although starving, did not forget the world's claims. Day and night they toiled on, saying, "Must we necessarily live? Shall we ape the so-called saviours of mankind?" "The superior man," they say, "is not a fault-finder. He does not appropriate the credit of others. He looks on one who does no good to the world as a worthless fellow. He regards prohibition of aggressive actions and causing arms to lie unused, as external; the diminution and restraint of our passions, as internal. In all matters, great or small, subtle or gross, such is the point to which he attains." To be public-spirited and belong to no party, in one's dealings not to be all for self, to move without being bound to a given course, to take things as they come, to have no remorse for the past, no anxiety for the future, to have no partialities, but to be on good terms with all,—herein lay the Tao of the ancients.

(3) Then Knowledge said to the Yellow Emperor, "I asked Do-nothing Say-nothing, but he did not answer me. Not that he, would not; he could not. So I asked All-in-extremes. He was just going to tell me, but he did not tell me. Not that he would not; but just as he was going to do so, he forgot what he wanted to say. Now I ask you, and you tell me. How then are you wholly wrong?" "Of those two," replied the Yellow Emperor, "the former was genuinely right, inasmuch as he did not know. The latter was near, inasmuch as he forgot. You and I are wholly wrong, inasmuch as we know." When All-in-extremes heard of this, he considered that the Yellow Emperor had spoken well. The universe is very beautiful, yet it says nothing. The four seasons abide by a fixed law, yet they are not heard. All creation is based upon absolute principles, yet nothing speaks. And the true Sage, taking his stand upon the beauty of the universe, pierces the principles of created things. Hence the saying that the per fect man does nothing, the true Sage performs nothing, beyond gazing at the universe. For man's intellect, however keen, face to face with the countless evolutions of things, their death and birth, their squareness and roundness,—can never reach the root. There creation is, and there it has ever been. The six cardinal points, reaching into infinity, are ever included in Tao. An autumn spikelet, in all its minuteness, must carry Tao within itself. There is nothing on earth which does not rise and fall, but it never perishes altogether.

(11) "Because," replied the latter, "Chi was trying to make his horses perform a task to which they were unequal. Therefore I said they would break down." Ch'ui the artisan could draw circles with his hand better than with compasses. His fingers seemed to accommodate themselves so naturally to the thing he was working at, that it was unnecessary to fix his attention. His mental faculties thus remained ONE, and suffered no hindrance. To be unconscious of one's feet implies that the shoes are easy. To be unconscious of a waist implies that the girdle is easy. The intelligence being unconscious of positive and negative implies that the heart is at ease. No modifications within, no yielding to influences without, —this is ease under all conditions. And he who beginning with ease, is never not at ease, is unconscious of the ease of ease. A certain Sun Hsiu went to the house of Pien Ch'ing Tzŭ and complained, saying, "In peace I am not considered wanting in propriety. In times of trouble I am not considered wanting in courage. Yet my crops fail; and officially I am not a success. From my village an outcast, I am an outlaw from my State. How have I offended against God that he should visit me with such a fate?" "Have you not heard," replied Pien Tzŭ, "how the perfect man conducts himself? He is oblivious of his physical organisation. He is beyond the reach of sight and hearing. He moves outside the limits of this dusty world, rambling transcendentally in the domain of no-affairs. This is called acting but not from self-confidence, influencing but not from authority.

(5) He who is thus master of himself will ever bear a smiling face; he will put away frowns and be first to greet others, a friend of the world. He will not noisily and hastily throw down benches or the like, nor beat upon a door, but always will delight in silence. The crane, the cat, and the thief walk silently and calmly, and accomplish the end that they desire; thus the holy man will always act. He will accept with bowed head the words of those who are skilful in exhorting others and do kindness unsought; he will ever be the disciple of all men. He will give applause to all kindly words; when he sees one who does righteous works, he will gladden him with praises....

(2) "The true Sage is free from all embarrassments. All things are to him as One. Yet he knows not that this is so. It is simply nature. In the midst of action he remains the same. He makes God his guide, and men make him theirs. He grieves that wisdom carries one but a short distance, and at times comes altogether to a deadlock. "To a beauty, mankind is the mirror in which she sees herself. If no one tells her she is beautiful, she does not know that she is so. But whether she knows it or whether she does not know it, whether she hears it or whether she does not hear it, her joy will never cease, neither will mankind ever cease to take pleasure therein. It is nature. "The love of a Sage for his fellows likewise finds expression among mankind. Were he not told so, he would not know that he loved his fellows. But whether he knows it or whether he does not know it, whether he hears it or whether he does not hear it, his love for his fellows is without end, and mankind cease not to repose therein. "The old country, the old home, gladden a wanderer's eyes. Nay, though nine-tenths of it be a howling wilderness, still his eye will be glad. How much more to see sight and hear hearing, from a lofty dais suspended in their very midst!" Jen Hsiang Shih reached the centre and attained.

(3) "The man of complete virtue remains blankly passive as regards what goes on around him. He is as originally by nature, and his knowledge extends to the supernatural. Thus, his virtue expands his heart, which goes forth to all who come to take refuge therein. "Without Tao, form cannot be endued with life. Without virtue, life cannot be endued with intelligence. To preserve one's form, live out one's life, establish one's virtue, and realise Tao,—is not this complete virtue? "Issuing forth spontaneously, moving without premeditation, all things following in his wake,—such is the man of complete virtue! "He can see where all is dark. He can hear where all is still. In the darkness he alone can see light. In the stillness he alone can detect harmony. He can sink to the lowest depths of materialism. To the highest heights of spirituality he can soar. This because he stands in due relation to all things. Though a mere abstraction, he can minister to their wants, and ever and anon receive them into rest,—the great, the small, the long, the short, for ever without end." The Yellow Emperor travelled to the north of the Red Lake and ascended the K'un-lun Mountains. Returning south he lost his magic pearl. He employed Intelligence to find it, but without success. He employed Sight to find it, but without success. He employed Speech to find it, but without success. Finally, he employed Nothing, and Nothing got it. "Strange indeed," quoth the Emperor, "that Nothing should have been able to get it!" Yao's tutor was Hsü Yu. The latter's tutor was Yeh Ch'üeh, and Yeh Ch'üeh's tutor was Wang I, whose tutor was Pei I. Yao enquired of Hsü Yu, saying, "Would Yeh Ch'üeh do to be emperor? I am going to get Wang I to ask him."

(9) "Repose gives health to the sick. Rubbing the eyelids removes the wrinkles of old age. Quiet will dispel anxieties. These remedies however are the resource only of those who need them. Others who are free from such ills pay no attention thereto. "That which the true Sage marvels at in the empire, claims not the attention of the Divine man. That which the truly virtuous man marvels at in his own sphere, claims not the attention of the true Sage. That which the superior man marvels at in his State, claims not the attention of the truly virtuous man. How the mean man adapts himself to his age, claims not the attention of the superior man. "The keeper of the Yen gate, having maltreated himself severely in consequence of the death of his parents, received a high official post. His relatives thereupon maltreated themselves, and some half of them died. "Yao offered the empire to Hsü Yu, but Hsü Yu fled. T'ang offered it to Wu Kuang, but Wu Kuang declined with anger. "When Chi T'o heard of Hsü Yu's flight, he took all his disciples with him and jumped into the river K'uan; upon which the various feudal princes mourned for three years, and Shên T'u Ti had the river filled up. "The raison d'être of a fish-trap is the fish. When the fish is caught, the trap may be ignored. The raison d'être of a rabbit-snare is the rabbit. When the rabbit is caught the snare may be ignored. The raison d'être of language is an idea to be expressed. When the idea is expressed, the language may be ignored. But where shall I find a man to ignore language, with whom I may be able to converse?"

(12) "That which can be seen with the eye is form and colour; that which can be heard with the ear is sound and noise. But alas! the people of this generation think that form, and colour, and sound, and noise, are means by which they can come to understand the essence of Tao. This is not so. And as those who know, do not speak, while those who speak do not know, whence should the world derive its knowledge?" was one day reading in his hall, when a wheelwright who was working below, flung down his hammer and chisel, and mounting the steps said, "What words may your Highness be studying?" "I am studying the words of the Sages," replied the Duke. "Are the Sages alive?" asked the wheelwright. "No," answered the Duke; "they are dead." "Then the words your Highness is studying," rejoined the wheelwright, "are only the dregs of the ancients." "What do you mean, sirrah!" cried the Duke, "by interfering with what I read? Explain yourself, or you shall die." "Let me take an illustration," said the wheelwright, "from my own trade. In making a wheel, if you work too slowly, you can't make it firm; if you work too fast, the spokes won't fit in. You must go neither too slowly nor too fast. There must be co-ordination of mind and hand. Words cannot explain what it is, but there is some mysterious art herein. I cannot teach it to my son; nor can he learn it from me. Consequently, though seventy years of age, I am still making wheels in my old age. If the ancients, together with what they could not impart, are dead and gone, then what your Highness is studying must be the dregs."