(50) Of this remarkable Oriental drawing, J. P. Lundy has written:----It looks like a Christian crucifix in many respects, and in some others it does not. The drawing, attitude, and the nail-marks in hands and feet, indicate a Christian origin; while the Parthian coronet of seven points, the absence of the wood and of the usual inscription, and the rays of glory above seem to point to some Christian origin. Can it be the Victim, Man, or the Priest and Victim both in one, of the Hindu mythology, who offered himself a sacrifice before the worlds were?"

(8) has resigned and retired into private life. Now as you, Sir, wish to deposit your works, it would be advisable to go and interview him." "Certainly," said Confucius; and he thereupon went to see Lao Tzŭ. The latter would not hear of the proposal; so Confucius began to expound the doctrines of his twelve canons, in order to convince Lao Tzŭ. "This is all nonsense," cried Lao Tzŭ, interrupting him. "Tell me what are your criteria." "Charity," replied Confucius, "and duty towards one's neighbour." "Tell me, please," asked Lao Tzŭ, "are these part of man's original nature?" "They are," answered Confucius. "Without charity, the superior man could not become what he is. Without duty to one's neighbour, he would be of no effect. These two belong to the original nature of a pure man. What further would you have?" "Tell me," said Lao Tzŭ, "in what consist charity and duty to one's neighbour?" "They consist," answered Confucius, "in a capacity for rejoicing in all things; in universal love, without the element of self. These are the characteristics of charity and duty to one's neighbour." "What stuff!" cried Lao Tzŭ. "Does not universal love contradict itself? Is not your elimination of self a positive manifestation of self?

(2) "It is all over!" cried Poh Hun Wu Jen. "I told you that the world would gather around you. It is not that you can make people gather around you. You cannot prevent them from doing so. Of what use would my instruction be? Exerting influence thus unduly over others, you are by them influenced in turn. You disturb your natural constitution, and are of no further account. "The shrewd grow weary, the wise grieve. Those who are without abilities have no ambitions. With full bellies they roam happily about, like drifting boats, not caring whither they are bound." There was a man of the Chêng State, named Huan. He pursued his studies at a place called Ch'iu-shih. After three years only, he had graduated as a Confucianist; and like a river which fertilises its banks to a distance of nine li, so did his good influence reach into three families. He caused his younger brother to graduate as a Mihist. But inasmuch as in the question of Confucianism versus Mihism, the father took the side of the Mihist, at the end of ten years Huan committed suicide. Then the father dreamed that Huan appeared to him and said, "It was I who caused your son to become a Mihist. Why give all the credit to him who is but as the fruit of an autumn pine?" Verily God does not reward man for what he does, but for what he is.

(6) Chuang Tzŭ having replied in the affirmative, the skull began:—"In death, there is no sovereign above, and no subject below. The workings of the four seasons are unknown. Our existences are bounded only by eternity. The happiness of a king among men cannot exceed that which we enjoy." Chuang Tzŭ, however, was not convinced, and said, "Were I to prevail upon God to allow your body to be born again, and your bones and flesh to be renewed, so that you could return to your parents, to your wife, and to the friends of your youth,—would you be willing?" At this, the skull opened its eyes wide and knitted its brows and said, "How should I cast aside happiness greater than that of a king, and mingle once again in the toils and troubles of mortality?" When Yen Yüan went eastwards to the Ch'i State, Confucius was sad. Tzŭ Kung arose and said, "Is it, Sir, because Hui has gone east to Ch'i that you are sad?" "A good question," replied Confucius. "There is a saying by Kuan Chung of old which I highly esteem: 'Small bags won't hold big things; short ropes won't reach down deep wells.' Thus, destiny is a pre-arrangement, just as form has its limitations. From neither, to neither, can you either take away or add. And I fear lest Hui, on his visit to the prince of Ch'i, should preach the Tao of Yao and Shun, and dwell on the words of Sui Jen and Shên Nung. The prince will then search within himself, but will not find. And not finding, he will doubt. And when a man doubts, he will kill.

(1) [This chapter is supplementary to chapter vi.] T'ien Tzŭ Fang was in attendance upon Prince Wên of Wei. He kept on praising Ch'i Kung, until at length Prince Wên said, "Is Ch'i Kung your tutor?" "No," replied Tzŭ Fang; "he is merely a neighbour. He discourses admirably upon Tao. That is why I praise him." "Have you then no tutor?" enquired the Prince. "I have," replied Tzŭ Fang. "And who may he be?" said Prince Wên. "Tung Kuo Shun Tzŭ," answered Tzŭ Fang. "Then how is it you do not praise him?" asked the Prince. "He is perfect," replied Tzŭ Fang. "In appearance, a man; in reality, God. Unconditioned himself, he falls in with the conditioned, to his own greater glory. Pure himself, he can still tolerate others. If men are without Tao, by a mere look he calls them to a sense of error, and causes their intentions to melt away. How could I praise him?" Thereupon Tzŭ Fang took his leave, and the Prince remained for the rest of the day absorbed in silence. At length he called an officer in waiting and said, "How far beyond us is the man of perfect virtue! Hitherto I have regarded the discussion of holiness and wisdom, and the practice of charity and duty to one's neighbour, as the utmost point attainable. But now that I have heard of Tzŭ Fang's tutor, my body is relaxed and desires not movement, my mouth is closed and desires not speech. All I have learnt, verily it is mere undergrowth. And the kingdom of Wei is my bane."

(14) "Wu Chuang's disregard of her beauty," answered I Erh Tzŭ, "Chü Liang's disregard of his strength, the Yellow Emperor's abandonment of wisdom,—all these were brought about by a process of filing and hammering. And how do you know but that God would rid me of my brands, and give me a new nose, and make me fit to become a disciple of yourself?" "Ah!" replied Hsü Yu, "that cannot be known. But I will just give you an outline. The Master I serve succours all things, and does not account it duty. He continues his blessings through countless generations, and does not account it charity. Dating back to the remotest antiquity, he does not account himself old. Covering heaven, supporting earth, and fashioning the various forms of things, he does not account himself skilled. He it is whom you should seek." "I am getting on," observed Yen Hui to Confucius. "How so?" asked the latter. "I have got rid of charity and duty," replied the former. "Very good," replied Confucius, "but not perfect." Another day Yen Hui met Confucius and said, "I am getting on." "How so?" asked Confucius. "I have got rid of ceremonial and music," answered Yen Hui. "Very good," said Confucius, "but not perfect." On a third occasion Yen Hui met Confucius and said, "I am getting on." "How so?" asked the Sage. "I have got rid of everything," replied Yen Hui. "Got rid of everything!" said Confucius eagerly. "What do you mean by that?"

(3) For such intrinsicality does exist, in this sense:—Things which are curved require no arcs; things which are straight require no lines; things which are round require no compasses; things which are rectangular require no squares; things which stick require no glue; things which hold together require no cords. And just as all things are produced, and none can tell how they are produced, so do all things possess their own intrinsic qualities and none can tell how they possess them. From time immemorial this has always been so, without variation. Why then should charity and duty to one's neighbour be as it were glued or corded on, and introduced into the domain of Tao, to give rise to doubt among mankind? Lesser doubts change the rule of life; greater doubts change man's nature. How do we know this? By the fact that ever since the time when Shun bid for charity and duty to one's neighbour in order to secure the empire, men have devoted their lives to the pursuit thereof. Is it not then charity and duty to one's neighbour which change the nature of man? Therefore I have tried to show that from the time of the Three Dynasties it has always been the external which has changed the nature of man. If a mean man, he will die for gain. If a superior man, he will die for fame. If a man of rank, he will die for his ancestral honours. If a Sage, he will die for the world. The pursuits and ambitions of these men differ, but the injury to their natures involved in the sacrifice of their lives is the same.

(9) Things are produced around us, but no one knows the whence. They issue forth, but no one sees the portal. Men one and all value that part of knowledge which is known. They do not know how to avail themselves of the unknown in order to reach knowledge. Is not this misguided? Alas! alas! the impossibility of escaping from this state results in what is known as elective affinity. Confucius asked the historiographers Ta T'ao, Poh Ch'ang Ch'ien, and Hsi Wei, saying, "Duke Ling was fond of wine and given up to pleasure, and neglected the administration of his State. He spent his time in hunting, and did not cultivate the goodwill of the other feudal princes. How was it he came to be called Ling?" "For those very reasons," replied Ta T'ao. "The Duke," said Poh Ch'ang Ch'ien, "had three wives. He was having a bath together with them when Shih Ch'in, summoned by his Highness, entered the apartment. Thereupon the Duke covered himself and the ladies. So outrageously did he behave on the one hand, and yet so respectful was he towards a virtuous man. Hence he was called Ling." "When the Duke died," said Hsi Wei, "divination showed that it would be inauspicious to bury him in the old family burying-ground, but auspicious to bury him at Sha-ch'iu. And upon digging a grave there, several fathoms deep, a stone coffin was found, which, being cleaned, yielded the following inscription:— Posterity cannot be trusted. Duke Ling will seize this for his tomb. "As a matter of fact, Duke Ling had been named Ling long before. What should these two persons know about it?" Shao Chih asked T'ai Kung Tiao, saying, "What is meant by society?"

(1) In the State of Lu there was a man, named Wang T'ai, who had had his toes cut off. His disciples were as numerous as those of Confucius. asked Confucius, saying, "This Wang T'ai has been mutilated, yet he divides with you, Sir, the teaching of the Lu State. He neither preaches nor discusses; yet those who go to him empty, depart full. He must teach the doctrine which does not find expression in words; and although his shape is imperfect, his mind is perhaps complete. What manner of man is this?" "He is a prophet," replied Confucius, "whose instruction I have been late in seeking. I will go and learn from him. And if I,—why not those who are not equal to me? And I will take with me, not the State of Lu only, but the whole world." "The fellow has been mutilated," said Ch'ang Chi, "and yet people call him Master. He must be very different from the ordinary run. But how does he use his mind in this sense?" "Life and Death are all powerful," answered Confucius, "but they cannot affect it. Heaven and earth may collapse, but that will remain. If this is found to be without flaw, it will not share the fate of all things. It can cause other things to change, while preserving its own constitution intact." "How so?" asked Ch'ang Chi.

(6) "And now you come forward preaching the old dogmas of Wên Wang and palming off sophistries without end, in order to teach future generations. You wear patched clothes and a narrow girdle, you talk big and act falsely, in order to deceive the rulers of the land, while all the time you yourself are aiming at wealth and power! You are the biggest thief I know of; and if the world calls me Robber Chê, it most certainly ought to call you Robber Ch'iu. "By fair words you enticed Tzŭ Lu to follow you. You made him doff his martial cap, and ungird his long sword, and sit a disciple at your feet. And all the world cried out that Confucius could stop violence and prevent wrong-doing. By and by, when Tzŭ Lu wished to slay the prince of Wei, but failed, and was himself hacked to pieces and exposed over the eastern gate of Wei,—that was because you had not properly instructed him.

(5) 'An astonishing thing! The first manifestation of the Simurgh took place in China in the middle of the night. One of his feathers fell on China and his reputation filled the world. Everone made a picture of this feather, and from it formed his own system of ideas, and so fell into a turmoil. This feather is still in the picture-gallery of that country; hence the saying, " Seek knowledge, even in China 1 " 'But for his manifestation there would not have been so much noise in the world concerning this mysterious Being. This sign of his existence is a token of his glory. All souls carry an impression of the image of his feather. Since the description of it has neither head nor tail, beginning nor end, it is not necessary to say more about it. Now, any of you who are for this road, prepare yourselves, and put your feet on the Way.'

(4) The Yin and the Yang, and the four seasons, keep to their proper order. Apparently destroyed, yet really existing; the material gone, the immaterial left;—such is the law of creation, which passeth all understanding. This is called the root, whence a glimpse may be obtained of God. Yeh Ch'üeh enquired of P'i I about Tao. The latter said, "Keep your body under proper control, your gaze concentrated upon One,—and the peace of God will descend upon you. Keep back your knowledge, and concentrate your thoughts upon One,—and the holy spirit shall abide within you. Virtue shall beautify you, Tao shall establish you, aimless as a new-born calf which recks not how it came into the world." While P'i I was still speaking, Yeh Ch'üeh had gone off to sleep; at which the former rejoiced greatly, and departed singing, Shun asked Ch'êng, saying, "Can one get Tao so as to have it for one's own?" "Your very body," replied Ch'êng, "is not your own. How should Tao be?" "If my body," said Shun, "is not my own, pray whose is it?" "It is the delegated image of God," replied Ch'êng. "Your life is not your own. It is the delegated harmony of God. Your individuality is not your own. It is the delegated adaptability of God. Your posterity is not your own. It is the delegated exuviæ of God. You move, but know not how. You are at rest, but know not why. You taste, but know not the cause. These are the operation of God's laws. How then should you get Tao so as to have it for your own?" Confucius said to Lao Tzŭ, "To-day you are at leisure. Pray tell me about perfect Tao."

(6) Thus we see that Mih Tzŭ and Ch'in Hua Li, while right in theory, were wrong in practice. They would merely have taught mankind to vie with each other in working the hair off their calves and shins. The evil of that system would have predominated over the good. Nevertheless, Mih Tzŭ was undoubtedly a well-meaning man. In spite of failure, with all its withering influences, he stuck to his text. He may be called a man of genius. Not to be involved in the mundane, not to indulge in the specious, not to be overreaching with the individual, nor antagonistic to the public; but to desire the tranquillity of the world in general with a view to the prolongation of life, to seek no more than sufficient for the requirements of oneself and others, and by such a course to purify the heart,—herein lay the Tao of the ancients. Sung Hsing and Yin Wên became enthusiastic followers of Tao. They adopted a cap, shaped like the Hua Mountain, as a badge. They bore themselves with kindly discrimination towards all things. They spoke of the passive qualities of the heart as though they had been active; and declared that whosoever could bring joy among mankind and peace within the girdle of ocean should be made ruler over them.

(4) For what they cared for could be reduced to ONE, and what they did not care for to ONE also. That which was ONE was ONE, and that which was not ONE was likewise ONE. In that which was ONE, they were of God; in that which was not ONE, they were of Man. And so between the human and the divine no conflict ensued. This was to be a pure man. Life and Death belong to Destiny. Their sequence, like day and night, is of God, beyond the interference of man, an inevitable law. A man looks upon God as upon his father, and loves him in like measure. Shall he then not love that which is greater than God? A man looks upon a ruler of men as upon some one better than himself, for whom he would sacrifice his life. Shall he not then do so for the Supreme Ruler of Creation? When the pond dries up, and the fishes are left upon dry ground, to moisten them with the breath or to damp them with spittle is not to be compared with leaving them in the first instance in their native rivers and lakes. And better than praising Yao and blaming Chieh would be leaving them both and attending to the development of Tao. Tao gives me this form, this toil in manhood, this repose in old age, this rest in death. And surely that which is such a kind arbiter of my life is the best arbiter of my death. A boat may be hidden in a creek, or in a bog, safe enough.

(1) Yen Hui went to take leave of Confucius. "Whither are you bound?" asked the Master. "I am going to the State of Wei," was the reply. "And what do you propose to do there?" continued Confucius. "I hear," answered Yen Hui, "that the Prince of Wei is of mature age, but of an unmanageable disposition. He behaves as if the State were of no account, and will not see his own faults. Consequently, the people perish; and their corpses lie about like so much undergrowth in a marsh. They are at extremities. And I have heard you, Sir, say that if a State is well governed it may be neglected; but that if it is badly governed, then we should visit it. The science of medicine embraces many various diseases. I would test my knowledge in this sense, that perchance I may do some good to that State." "Alas!" cried Confucius, "you will only succeed in bringing evil upon yourself. For Tao must not be distributed. If it is, it will lose its unity. If it loses its unity, it will be uncertain; and so cause mental disturbance,—from which there is no escape. "The sages of old first got Tao for themselves, and then got it for others. Before you possess this yourself, what leisure have you to attend to the doings of wicked men? Besides, do you know what Virtue results in and where Wisdom ends? Virtue results in a desire for fame; Wisdom ends in contentions. In the struggle for fame men crush each other, while their wisdom but provokes rivalry. Both are baleful instruments, and may not be incautiously used.

(4) "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. 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. I shall have no one to turn to for help; and how, without food, shall I ever be able to get there?" 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.

(8) Thus, men are always doing something; inaction is to them impossible. They observe in this the same regularity as the seasons, ever without change. They hurry to destruction, dissipating in all directions their vital forces, alas! never to return. Chuang Tzŭ said, "If archers who aimed at nothing and hit something were accounted good shots, everybody in the world would be another Yi. Could this be so?" "It could," replied Hui Tzŭ. "If there was no general standard of right in the world," continued Chuang Tzŭ, "but each man had his own, then everybody would be a Yao. Could this be so?" "It could," replied Hui Tzŭ. "Very well," said Chuang Tzŭ. "Now there are the Confucianists, the Mihists, the schools of Yang making with your own five in all. Pray which of these is right? "Possibly it is a similar case to that of Lu Chü? —A disciple said to him, 'Master, I have attained to your Tao. I can do without fire in winter: I can make ice in summer.' "'You merely avail yourself of latent heat and latent cold,' replied Lu Chü. 'That is not what I call Tao. I will demonstrate to you what my Tao is.' "Thereupon he tuned two lutes, and placed one in the hall and the other in the adjoining room. And when he struck the Kung note on one, the Kung note on the other sounded; when he struck the chio note on one, the chio note on the other sounded. This because they were both tuned to the same pitch.

(4) "Well said!" cried Kêng Sang; and then he added, "Small wasps cannot transform huge caterpillars. Bantams cannot hatch the eggs of geese. The fowls of Lu can. Not that there is any difference in the hatching power of chickens. One can and another cannot, because one is naturally fitted for working on a large, the other on a small scale. My talents are of the latter order. I cannot transform you. Why not go south and see Lao Tzŭ?" So Nan Yung took some provisions, and after a seven days' journey arrived at the abode of Lao Tzŭ. "Have you come from Kêng Sang Ch'u?" said the latter. "I have," replied Nan Yung. "But why," said Lao Tzŭ, "bring all these people with you?" Nan Yung looked back in alarm, and Lao Tzŭ continued, "Do you not understand what I say?" Nan Yung bent his head abashed, and then looking up, said with a sigh, "I have now forgotten how to answer, in consequence of missing what I came to ask." "What do you mean?" said Lao Tzŭ. "If I do not know," replied Nan Yung, "men call me a fool. If I do know, I injure myself. If I am not charitable, I injure others. If I am, I injure myself. If I do not do my duty to my neighbour, I injure others. If I do it, I injure myself. My trouble lies in not seeing how to escape from these three dilemmas. On the strength of my connection with Kêng Sang, I would venture to ask advice."

(6) Wherefore it has been said that the best part of Tao is for self-culture, the surplus for governing a State, and the dregs for governing the empire. From which we may infer that the great deeds of kings and princes are but the leavings of the Sage. For preserving the body and nourishing vitality, they are of no avail. Yet the superior men of to-day endanger their bodies and throw away their lives in their greed for the things of this world. Is not this pitiable? The true Sage in all his actions considers the why and the wherefore. But there are those now-a-days who use the pearl of the prince of Sui to shoot a bird a thousand yards off. And the world of course laughs at them. Why? Because they sacrifice the greater to get the less. But surely life is of more importance even than the prince's pearl! Lieh Tzŭ was poor. His face wore a hungry look. A visitor one day mentioned this to Tzŭ Yang of Chêng, saying, "Lieh Tzŭ is a scholar who has attained to Tao. He lives in your Excellency's State, and yet he is poor. Can it be said that your Excellency does not love scholars?" Thereupon Tzŭ Yang gave orders that Lieh Tzŭ should be supplied with food. But when Lieh Tzŭ saw the messengers, he bowed twice and declined. When the messengers had gone, and Lieh Tzŭ went within, his wife gazed at him, and beating her breast said, "I have heard that the wife and children of a man of Tao are happy and joyful. But see how hungry I am. His Excellency sent you food, and you would not take it. Is not this flying in the face of Providence?"

(31) Now arms, however beautiful, are instruments of evil omen, hateful, it may be said, to all creatures. Therefore they who have the Tao do not like to employ them. The superior man ordinarily considers the left hand the most honourable place, but in time of war the right hand. Those sharp weapons are instruments of evil omen, and not the instruments of the superior man;--he uses them only on the compulsion of necessity. Calm and repose are what he prizes; victory (by force of arms) is to him undesirable. To consider this desirable would be to delight in the slaughter of men; and he who delights in the slaughter of men cannot get his will in the kingdom. On occasions of festivity to be on the left hand is the prized position; on occasions of mourning, the right hand. The second in command of the army has his place on the left; the general commanding in chief has his on the right;--his place, that is, is assigned to him as in the rites of mourning. He who has killed multitudes of men should weep for them with the bitterest grief; and the victor in battle has his place (rightly) according to those rites.