SOURCE: "Monism," in A Brief History of Early Chinese Philosophy, Probsthain & Co., 1914, pp. 25-33.

[In the following excerpt, Suzuki characterizes Lieh Tzu as belonging to the mystical and monistic tradition of Taoism, which stood in opposition to the more practical Confucianism.]

… There were not lacking, however, in the Ante-Ch'in period certain tendencies that counterbalanced the ultra-practical, positivistic train of thought as represented in Confucianism. Though these tendencies did not attain a full manifestation at any time in the history of Chinese thought, they showed a strong front at this incipient stage to their antagonistic systems. It was quite unfortunate that they were hampered in their development, and had from time to time to lose sight of their essential qualities. Probably this was in the nature of their system. They owe their origin mainly to the teachings of the Tao Teh Ching,²² and may be characterized as monistic, mystic, transcendental, and sometimes pantheistic. Lao-tze, however, was not the first and sole expounder of these thoughts. He doubtless had many predecessors whose words and lives are scatteringly recorded by Confucius, Mencius, Chwangtze, Lieh-tze, and others, including Lao-tze himself.²³ What was most significant in the author of the Tao Teh Ching was that he gave to these conceptions a literary form through which we are able to trace the history of the Chinese monistic movement to its sources.

When we pass from Confucius to Lao-tze, we experience almost complete change of scenery. Confucius, in whom the Chinese mind is most typically mirrored, rarely deviates from the plain, normal, prosaic, and practical path of human life, and his eyes are steadily kept upon our earthly moral relations. Lao-tze occasionally betrays his national traits, but he does not hesitate to climb the dizzy heights of speculation and imagination. The first passage of the Tao Teh Ching shows how different his mode of thought is from that of the Confucian school:

The reason²⁴ (tao) that can be reasoned is not the eternal reason. The name that can be named is not the eternal name. The unnameable is the beginning of heaven and earth. The nameable is the mother of the ten thousand things. Therefore, in eternal nonbeing I wish to see the spirituality of things; and in eternal being I wish to see the limitation of things. These two things are the same in source, but different in name. Their sameness is called a mystery. Indeed, it is the mystery of mysteries. It is the door of all spirituality.

According to Lao-tze, there is only one thing which, though indefinable and beyond the comprehension of the human understanding, is the fountain-head of all beings, and the norm of all actions. Lao-tze calls this Tao. But the Tao is not only the formative principle of the universe; it also seems to be primordial matter. For he says in Chapter XXV of the Tao Teh Ching.²⁵

There is one thing, chaotic in its composition, which was born prior to heaven or earth. How noiseless! How formless! Standing in its solitude, it does not change. Universal in its activity, it does not relax; and thereby it is capable of becoming the mother of the world.

Again in Chapter XIV:

We look at it, but cannot see it; it is colourless. We listen to it, but cannot hear it; it is called soundless. We grasp it, but cannot hold it; it is called bodiless. The limits of these three we cannot reach. Therefore, they are merged into one. Its top is not bright, its bottom is not murky; its eternity is indefinable; it again returns into nothingness. This I call the shapeless shape, the imageless form; this I call the obscure and vague. We proceed to meet it, but cannot see its beginning; we follow after it, but cannot see its end.

In what Lao-tze again seems to conceive his Tao, at once the formative principle of the universe and the primordial matter from which develops this phenomenal world.

The nature of the Tao, how obscure, how vague! How vaguely obscure! and yet in its midst there is an image. How obscurely vague! and yet in its midst there is a character. How unfathomable, how indefinite! yet in its midst there is a reality, and the reality is truly pure; in it there is truthfulness. From of old till now, its name never departs, and thereby it reviews the beginning of all things (Chapter XXI).

The Tao, as the reason of the universe and as the principle of all activity, is something unnameable, and transcends the grasp of the intellect. The Tao, as primordial matter from which this world of particulars has been evolved, is a potentiality; it has a form which is formless; it has a shape which is shapeless; it is enveloped in obscurity and utter indeterminateness. According to what we learn from the Tao Teh Ching, Lao-tze seems to have comprehended two apparently distinct notions in the conception of Tao. He was evidently not conscious of this confusion. The physical conception, as we might call it, developed later into the evolution-idea of the T'ai Chi²⁶ by the early philosophers of the Sung dynasty, who endeavoured to reconcile the Yi philosophy with the Taoist cosmogony. The metaphysical side of Lao-tze's Tao conception not only was transformed by his early followers into pantheism and mysticism; it also served as an electric spark, as it were, to the explosion of the famous controversy of the Sung philosophers concerning Essence (hsing) and Reason (li). However this be, Lao-tze was the first monist in Chinese philosophy, as the Yi Ching was the first document that expounded dualism.

Lao-tze's philosophical successors in the Ante-Ch'in period, whose literary works have been fortunately preserved down to the present day, are Lieh-tze,²⁷ Chwang-tze, and perhaps Kwan-yin-tze. They all developed the monistic, mystical, idealistic thoughts broadly propounded in the Tao Teh Ching. Being ushered into the time when the first speculative activity of the Chinese mind had attained to its full vigour, the Taoist philosophers displayed a depth of intellectual power which has never been surpassed by later thinkers in brilliancy and freshness.

What most distinguishes Lieh-tze²⁸ in the galaxy of Taoists is his cosmogony. According to him, this nameable world of phenomena evolved from an unnameable absolute being. This being is called Tao, or Spirit of Valley (ku shen), or the Mysterious Mother (hsuan p'in), all these terms being used by his predecessor, Lao-tze.²⁹ The evolution did not take place through the direction of a personal will, that has a definite, conscious plan of its own in the creation or evolution of a universe. Lieh-tze says that the unnameable is the nameable, and the unknowable is the knowable; therefore, he did not see the need of creating a being or power that stands independent of this nameable and knowable world. It was in the very nature of the unnameable that it should evolve a world of names and particulars. It could not do otherwise. Its inherent nature necessitated it to unfold itself in the realm of the Yin and Yang.

To speak more definitely in the author's own words:

There was in the beginning Chaos (hun tun or hun lun), an unorganized mass. It was a mingled potentiality of Form (hsing), Pneuma (ch'i), and Substance (chih). A Great Change (tai yi) took place in it, and there was a Great Starting (tai chi), which is the beginning of Form. The Great Starting evolved a Great Beginning (tai shih), which is the inception of Pneuma. The Great Beginning was followed by the Great Blank (tai su), which is the first formation of Substance. Substance, Pneuma, and Form being all evolved out of the primordial chaotic mass, this material world as it lies before us came into existence (Chapter 1).

In these statements Lieh-tze appears to have understood by the so-called Chaos (hun lun) only a material potentiality. But, as we proceed, we notice that he did not ignore the reason by which the Chaos was at all possible to evolve. The reason is the Tao, or, as he calls it, the Solitary Indeterminate (i tuh), or the Going-and-Coming (wangfuh), or Non-activity (wu wei). The Solitary Indeterminate is that which creates and is not created, that which transforms and is not transformed. As it is not created, it is able to create everlastingly; as it is not transformed, it is able to transform eternally. The Going-and-Coming neither goes nor comes, for it is that which causes things to come and go. Those that come are doomed to go, and those that go are sure to come; but the Coming-and-Going itself remains for ever, and its limitations can never be known.

What comes out of birth is death, but what creates life has no end. What makes a concrete object is substance, but what constitutes the reason of a concrete object has never come to exist. What makes a sound perceptible is the sense of hearing, but what constitutes the reason of sound has never manifested itself. What makes a colour perceptible is its visibility, but what constitutes the reason of colour has never been betrayed. What makes a taste tastable is the sense of taste, but what constitutes the reason of taste has never been tasted. For all this is the function of non-activity (wu wei)—that is, reason (Chapter I).

Will there be no end to this constant coming and going of things? Is the world running in an eternal cycle? Lieh-tze seems to think so, for he says:

That which has life returns to that which is lifeless; that which has form returns to that which is formless. That which is lifeless does not eternally remain lifeless; that which is formless does not eternally remain formless. Things exist because they cannot be otherwise; things come to an end because they cannot do otherwise, just as those which are born because they cannot be unborn. They who aspire after an eternal life, or they who want to limit their life, are ignoring the law of necessity. The soul is heavenly and the bones are earthly. That which belongs to the heavens is clear, and dispenses itself; that which belongs to the earth is turbid, and agglomerates itself. The soul is separated from the body and returns (kwei) to its own essence. It is, therefore, called spirit (kwei). Spirit is returning—that is, it returns to its real abode (Chapter I).

Lieh-tze thus believes that the cycle of birth and death is an irrevocable ordeal of nature. This life is merely a temporary abode, and not the true one. Life means lodging, or sojourning, or tenanting, and death means coming back to its true abode. Life cannot necessarily be said to be better than death, or death than life. Life and death, existence and nonexistence, creation and annihilation, are the inherent law of nature, and the world must be said to be revolving on an eternal wheel. The wise man remains serene and unconcerned in the midst of this revolution; he lives as if not living. This is the characteristic attitude of all the Taoist philosophers; they begin with a monistic philosophy, and end with an ethical attitude of aloofness.

The following passage from Lieh-tze will illustrate what a transcendental attitude is assumed by the philosopher toward life and the universe, which is the psychological outcome of a philosophy of absolute identity:

A man in the state of Ch'i was so grieved over the possible disintegration of heaven-and-earth, and the consequent destruction of his own existence, that he could neither sleep nor eat. A friend came to him and consolingly explained to him: "Heaven-and-earth is no more than an accumulated pneuma, and the sun, moon, stars, and constellations are pure luminary bodies in this accumulation of pneuma. Even when they may fall on the ground, they cannot strike anything. The earth is an accumulation of masses filling its four empty quarters. Treading on it will not cause it to sink." With this both were satisfied.

Chang-tu-tze heard of it, and said: "The clouds and mists, the winds and rains are accumulated pneuma in the heavens; and the mountains and plains, the rivers and seas are accumulated forms on earth; and who can say that they will never disintegrate? Heaven-and-earth is merely a small atom in space, though the hugest among all concrete objects. It goes without saying that we cannot have its measurements and know its nature. He who grieves over its possible disintegration must be considered truly great, and he who thinks of it as indestructible is not quite right. Heaven-and-earth must suffer a disintegration. There must surely be the time when it falls to pieces. And could we be free from apprehension when it actually begins to fall?"

When this was communicated to Lieh-tze, he laughed, saying: "It is as great a mistake to assert that heaven-and-earth is falling to pieces as to deny it. Whether it falls to pieces or not, we have no means to tell; be it this or that, it is all the same. Therefore, life does not know of death, nor does death know of life. Coming does not know of going, nor does going know of coming. To go to pieces or not to go to pieces—this does not at all concern me" (Chapter I)…

Notes

…²² There exist several translations of this most widely known book of Taoism in the English as well as other European languages. It is a short work consisting of some five thousand Chinese characters. It is divided into eighty-one chapters as we have it now, but the division was not the author's own, and it sometimes distracts us from an intelligent reading of the book as a whole, which may best be considered a compilation of epigrams and aphorisms.

²³ That Lao-tze records many of his predecessors' views and sayings is seen from his frequent use of such expressions as: "Therefore says the sage," "This is what is anciently said," "So we have the early writers saying this."

²⁴ This is Dr. Carus's term for tao.

²⁵ It is difficult to determine the time when the book began to be divided into chapters; for, according to Sse Ma-ch'ien, the only division made by the author was into two parts. But later on commentators, each relying on his own judgment, divided the text into 55, 64, 68, 72, or 81, while some made no such attempts. The division here adopted is that of eighty-one, not because the present writer considers this the best way to understand the text, but merely because it is the most popular one.

²⁶ The term, T'ai Chi, first appears in one of the Confucian Appendices to the Yi Ching. "In the system of the Yi there is the Great Ultimate (or source or limit, t'ai chi). It produces the two regulators" … This passage has been quoted elsewhere. Here, however, the term t'ai chi does not seem to have a very weighty metaphysical sense. It only meant what it literally means, "great limit." The important philosophical signification it came to bear originated with a thinker of the Sung dynasty called Chou Tun-i (A.D. 1017-1073). According to him, "The Non-ultimate is the Great Ultimate. The Great Ultimate moved, and it produced Yang (male principle). At the consummation of the motion there was a rest in the Great Ultimate. While resting it produced Yin (female principle). At the consummation of rest it resumed motion. Now moving, now resting, each alternately became the root of the other. With this differentiation of the Yin and the Yang there have been permanently established the two principles."

²⁷ It may be explained here that the character tze, which is found in connection with most of the Chinese philosophers' names, has an honorary signification. It primarily means a child, then son, then any male, young, middle-aged, or old, and finally gentleman. It also means teacher, sage, philosopher. As a term of address it is equivalent to "sir."

²⁸ Lieh-tze, otherwise called Lieh Yu-kou, is generally known to have lived between the times of Lao-tze and Chwang-tze, that is, sometime in the fifth century before Christ. The work which goes under his name seems to have been compiled by his disciples. It consists of eight books or chapters, and was first edited in the fourth century A.D. by Chang Chen of the Tsin dynasty. My quotations here are mostly taken from Book I, in which his ontological views are comprehensively presented. A partial English translation of the Liehtze was published by Frederick Henry Balfour in his "Leaves from My Chinese Scrapbook" (pp. 85-135), under the heading, "A Philosopher who Never Lived" (London: Trübner and Co., 1887). There exists also a French translation, complete, by Ch. de Harlez in his "Textes Taoistes," 1891, and a German translation by E. Faber, 1877.

²⁹ We find these terms used by Lao-tze (Chapter VI) without reference to an earlier authority; but Lieh-tze quotes them as from the Book of the Yellow Emperor. Is it possible that such an ancient literature was still in existence during the Chou dynasty? If such was the case, and the book really contained such passages as quoted by Lao-tze and Lieh-tze, we must seek the origin of the Taoistic thoughts in the earliest days of Chinese civilization. Indeed, the Yellow Emperor is frequently referred to as an ancient sage by all the writers, and we find the doctrine of "Huang Lao" (that is, the Yellow Emperor and Lao-tze) linked together, and usually put in contrast to that of Confucianism.…