Lin Yutang's Introduction to Chuangtse: Mystic and Humorist
Jesus was followed by St. Paul, Socrates by Plato, Confucius by Mencius,
and Laotse by Chuangtse. In all four cases, the first was the real
teacher and either wrote no books or wrote very little, and the second
began to develop the doctrines and wrote long and profound discourses.
Chuangtse, who died about 275 B.C., was separated from Laotse's death by
not quite two hundred years, and was strictly a contemporary of Mencius.
Yet the most curious thing is that although both these writers mentioned
the other philosophers of the time, neither was mentioned by the other in
his works.
On the whole, Chuangtse must be
considered the greatest prose writer of the Chou Dynasty, as Ch'u: Yu:an
must be considered the greatest poet. His claim to this position rests
both upon the brilliance of his style and the depth of his thought. That
explains the fact that although he was probably the greatest slanderer of
Confucius, and with Motse, the greatest antagonist of Confucian ideas, no
Confucian scholar has not openly or secretly admired him. People who
would not openly agree with his ideas would nevertheless read him as
literature.
Nor can it be said truly that a
pure-blooded Chinese could ever quite disagree with Chuangtse's ideas.
Taoism is not a school of thought in China, it is a deep, fundamental
trait of Chinese thinking, and of the Chinese attitude toward life and
toward society. It has depth, while Confucianism has only a practical
sense of proportions; it enriches Chinese poetry and imagination in an
immeasurable manner, and it gives a philosophic sanction to whatever is
in the idle, freedom-loving, poetic, vagabond Chinese soul. It provides
the only safe, romantic release from the severe Confucian classic
restraint, and humanizes the very humanists themselves; therefore when a
Chinese succeeds, he is always a Confucianist, and when he fails, he is
always a Taoist. As more people fail than succeed in this world, and as
all who succeed know that they succeed but in a lame and halting manner
when they examine themselves in the dark hours of the night, I believe
Taoist ideas are more often at work than Confucianism. Even a
Confucianist succeeds only when he knows he never really succeeds, that
is, by following Taoist wisdom. Tseng Kuofan, the great Confucian general
who suppressed the Taiping Rebellion, had failed in his early campaign
and began to succeed only one morning when he realized with true Taoist
humility that he was "no good," and gave power to his assistant
generals.
Chuangtse is therefore
important as the first one who fully developed the Taoistic thesis of the
rhythm of life, contained in the epigrams of Laotse. Unlike other Chinese
philosophers principally occupied with practical questions of government
and personal morality, he gives the only metaphysics existing in Chinese
literature before the coming of Buddhism. I am sure his mysticism will
charm some readers and repel others. Certain traits in it, like weeding
out the idea of the ego and quiet contemplation and "seeing the Solitary"
explain how these native Chinese ideas were back of the development of
the Ch'an (Japanese Zen) Buddhism. Any branch of human knowledge, even
the study of the rocks of the earth and the cosmic rays of heaven,
strikes mysticism when is reaches any depth at all, and it seems Chinese
Taoism skipped the scientific study of nature to reach the same intuitive
conclusion by insight alone. Therefore it is not surprising that Albert
Einstein and Chuangtse agree, as agree they must, on the relativity of
all standards. The only difference is that Einstein takes on the more
difficult and, to a Chinese, more stupid work of mathematical proof,
while Chuangtse furnishes the philosophic import of this theory of
relativity, which must be sooner or later developed by Western
philosophers in the next decades.
A word must be added about
Chuangtse's attitude toward Confucius. It will be evident to any reader
that he was one of the greatest romanticizers of history, and that any of
the anecdotes he tells about Confucius, or Laotse or the Yellow Emperor
must be accepted on a par with those anecdotes he tells about the
conversation of General Clouds and Great Nebulous, or between the Spirit
of the River and the Spirit of the Ocean. It must be also plainly
understood that he was a humorist with a wild and rather luxuriant
fantasy, with an American love for exaggeration and for the big. One
should therefore read him as one would a humorist writer knowing that he
is frivolous when he is profound and profound when he is
frivolous.
The extant text of Chuangtse
consists of thirty-three chapters, all of them a mixture of philosophic
disquisition and anecdotes or parables. The chapters containing the most
virulent attacks on Confucianism (not included here) have been considered
forgery, and a few Chinese "textual critics" have even considered all of
them forgery except the first seven chapters. This is easy to understand
because it is the modern Chinese fashion to talk of forgery. One can rest
assured that these "textual critics" are unscientific because very little
of it is philological criticism, but consists of opinions as to style and
whether Chuangtse had or had not enough culture to attack Confucius only
in a mild and polished manner. (See samples of this type of "criticism"
in my long introduction to The Book of History.) Only one or two
anachronisms are pointed out, which could be due to later interpolations
and the rest is a subjective assertion of opinion. Even the evaluations
of style are faulty, and at least a distinction should be made between
interpolations and wholesale forgery. Some of the best pieces of
Chuangtse are decidedly outside the first seven chapters, and it has not
even occurred to the critics to provide an answer as to who else could
have written them. There is no reason to be sure that even the most
eloquent exposition of the thieves' philosophy, regarded by most as
forgery, was not the work of Chuangtse, who had so little to do with the
"gentlemen." On the other hand, I believe various anecdotes have been
freely added by later generations into the extremely loose structure of
the chapters.
I have chosen here eleven
chapters, including all but one of the first best seven chapters. With
one minor exception, these chapters are translated complete. The
philosophically most important are the chapters on "Levelling All Things"
and "Autumn Floods." The chapters, "Joined Toes," "Horses' Hooves,"
"Opening Trunks" and "Tolerance" belong in one group with the main theme
of protest against civilization. The most eloquent protest is contained
in "Opening Trunks," while the most characteristically Taoistic is the
chapter on "Tolerance." The most mystic and deeply religious piece is
"The Great Supreme." The most beautifully written is "Autumn Floods." The
queerest is the chapter on "Deformities" (a typically "romanticist"
theme). The most delightful is probably "Horses' Hooves," and the most
fantastic is the first chapter, "A Happy Excursion." Some of Chuangtse's
parables in the other chapters will be found under "Parables of Ancient
Philosophers" elsewhere in this volume.
I have based my translation on
that of Herbert A. Giles. It soon became apparent in my work that Giles
was free in his translation where exactness was easy and possible, and
that he had a glib, colloquial style which might be considered a blemish.
The result is that hardly a line has been left untouched, and I have had
to make my own translation, taking advantage of whatever is good in his
English rendering. But still I owe a great debt to my predecessor, and he
has notably succeeded in this difficult task in many passages. Where his
rendering is good, I have not chosen to be different. In this sense, the
translation may be regarded as my own.
It should be noted that
throughout the text, Giles translates "Heaven" as "God" where it means
God. On the other hand, the term "Creator" is an exact rendering of
chao-wu, or "he who creates things." I will not go into details of
translation of other philosophic terms here.
Daoism Index
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