Introduction

Chuang Tzŭ¹ belongs to the third and fourth centuries before Christ. He lived in the feudal age, when China was split up into a number of States owning a nominal allegiance to the royal, and weakly, House of Chou.

Chuang Tzŭ¹ lived in the fourth and third centuries before Christ. He lived in the feudal age, when China was divided into several states. These states owed nominal allegiance to the royal but weak House of Chou.

He is noticed by the historian Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien, who flourished at the close of the second century B.C., as follows:—

The historian Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien mentions him as follows. Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien lived and worked in the late second century B.C.:

To enable the reader to understand more fully the writings of Chuang Tzŭ, and to appreciate his aim and object, it will be necessary to go back a few more hundred years.

To better understand Chuang Tzŭ’s writings and appreciate his purpose, we need to go back a few hundred more years.

In the seventh century B.C., lived a man, now commonly spoken of as Lao Tzŭ. He was the great Prophet of his age. He taught men to return good for evil, and to look forward to a higher life. He professed to have found the clue to all things human and divine.

In the seventh century B.C., there lived a man now commonly known as Lao Tzŭ. He was the great prophet of his age. He taught people to return good for evil and to look forward to a higher life. He claimed to have found the key to all things human and divine.

He seems to have insisted that his system could not be reduced to words. At any rate, he declared that those who spoke did not know, while those who knew did not speak.

He seems to have insisted that his system could not be put into words. In any case, he said that those who spoke did not know, while those who knew did not speak.

But to accommodate himself to conditions of mortality, he called this clue TAO, or The Way, explaining that the word was to be understood metaphorically, and not in a literal sense as the way or road upon which men walk.

But to accommodate himself to the conditions of mortal life, he called this clue TAO, or The Way. He explained that the name was metaphorical, not a literal road that people walk on.

The following are sentences selected from the indisputably genuine remains of Lao Tzŭ, to be found scattered here and there in early Chinese literature:—

The following sentences are selected from Lao Tzŭ's unquestionably authentic surviving writings, found scattered throughout early Chinese literature:

Of such were the pure and simple teachings of Lao Tzŭ. But it is upon the wondrous doctrine of Inaction that his claim to immortality is founded:—

These were Lao Tzŭ’s pure and simple teachings. But his claim to immortality rests on his wondrous doctrine of Inaction:

Such doctrines as these were, however, not likely to appeal with force to the sympathies of a practical people. In the sixth century B.C., before Lao Tzŭ's death, another Prophet arose. He taught his countrymen that duty to one's neighbour comprises the whole duty of man. Charitableness of heart, justice, sincerity, and fortitude,—sum up the ethics of Confucius. He knew nothing of a God, of a soul, of an unseen world. And he declared that the unknowable had better remain untouched.

Such doctrines, however, were unlikely to appeal strongly to a practical people. In the sixth century B.C., before Lao Tzŭ died, another Prophet arose. He taught his countrymen that duty to one's neighbour is the whole duty of man. Compassion, justice, sincerity, and courage sum up the ethics of Confucius. He knew nothing of a God, a soul, or an unseen world. He declared that the unknowable was better left untouched.

Against these hard and worldly utterances, Chuang Tzŭ raised a powerful cry. The idealism of Lao Tzŭ had seized upon his poetic soul, and he determined to stem the tide of materialism in which men were being fast rolled to perdition.

Chuang Tzŭ spoke out powerfully against these harsh, worldly statements. Lao Tzŭ's idealism had captured his poetic soul. He resolved to stem the tide of materialism that was rapidly sweeping people toward ruin.

He failed, of course. It was, indeed, too great a task to persuade the calculating Chinese nation that by doing nothing, all things would be done. But Chuang Tzŭ bequeathed to posterity a work which, by reason of its marvellous literary beauty, has always held a foremost place. It is also a work of much originality of thought. The writer, it is true, appears chiefly as a disciple insisting upon the principles of a Master. But he has contrived to extend the field, and carry his own speculations into regions never dreamt of by Lao Tzŭ.

He failed, of course. Persuading the calculating Chinese nation that doing nothing would accomplish all things was too great a task. But Chuang Tzŭ left future generations a work that has always held a leading place because of its remarkable literary beauty. The work is also highly original in its ideas. It is true that Chuang Tzŭ writes mainly as a disciple insisting on the principles of a Master. But he has managed to broaden the field and take his own ideas into regions Lao Tzŭ never dreamed of.

It may here be mentioned that the historian Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien, already quoted, states in his notice of Lao Tzŭ that the latter left behind him a small volume in 5,000 and odd characters. Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien does not say, nor does he give the reader to understand, that he himself had ever seen the book in question. Nor does he even hint (see p. v.) that Chuang Tzŭ drew his inspiration from a book, but only from the "sayings" of Lao Tzŭ.

It may be worth mentioning here that the historian Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien, quoted earlier, wrote about Lao Tzŭ. In that account, he states that Lao Tzŭ left behind a short book of just over 5,000 characters. Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien does not say or suggest that he ever saw the book himself. Nor does he even suggest (see p. v.) that Chuang Tzŭ drew his inspiration from a book. He says only that Chuang Tzŭ drew inspiration from the "sayings" of Lao Tzŭ.

Confucius never mentions this book. Neither does Mencius, China's "Second Sage," who was born about one hundred years after the death of the First.

Confucius never mentions this book. Neither does Mencius, China's "Second Sage." Mencius was born about 100 years after the First Sage died.

But all this is a trifle compared with the fact that Chuang Tzŭ himself never once alludes to such a book; although now, in this nineteenth century, there are some, happily few in number, who believe that we possess the actual work of Lao Tzŭ's pen. It is, perhaps, happier still that this small number cannot be said to include within it the name of a single native scholar of eminence. In fact, as far as I know, the whole range of Chinese literature yields but the name of one such individual who has ever believed in the genuineness of the so-called Tao-Tê-Ching.¹¹ Even he would probably have remained unknown to fame, had he not been brother to Su Tung-p'o.¹²

But all this is a minor point compared with the fact that Chuang Tzŭ himself never once mentions such a book. Yet even now, in the nineteenth century, some people believe we have the actual work written by Lao Tzŭ himself. Fortunately, they are few. Perhaps it is even more fortunate that not one of them is a distinguished Chinese scholar. In fact, as far as I know, all of Chinese literature names only one such scholar who ever believed in the authenticity of the so-called Tao-Tê-Ching.¹¹ Even he would probably have remained unknown if he had not been the brother of Su Tung-p'o.¹²

Chuang Tzŭ, indeed, puts into the mouth of Lao Tzŭ sayings which are now found in the Tao-Tê-Ching, mixed up with a great many other similar sayings which are not to be found there. But he also puts sayings, which now appear in the Tao-Tê-Ching, into the mouth of Confucius (ch. xxi)! And even into the mouth of the Yellow Emperor (ch. xxii), whose date is some twenty centuries earlier than that of Lao Tzŭ himself!!

Chuang Tzŭ does put sayings now found in the Tao-Tê-Ching into Lao Tzŭ’s mouth. He mixes them with many similar sayings that are not found there. But he also puts sayings now found in the Tao-Tê-Ching into Confucius’s mouth (ch. xxi)! He even puts them into the mouth of the Yellow Emperor (ch. xxii), who lived some twenty centuries before Lao Tzŭ himself!!

Two centuries before the Christian era, an attempt was made to destroy, with some exceptions, the whole of Chinese literature, in order that history might begin anew from the reign of the First Emperor of united China. The extent of the actual mischief done by this "Burning of the Books" has been greatly exaggerated. Still, the mere attempt at such a holocaust gave a fine chance to the scholars of the later Han dynasty (A.D. 25-221), who seem to have enjoyed nothing so much as forging, if not the whole, at any rate portions, of the works of ancient authors. Some one even produced a treatise under the name of Lieh Tzŭ, a philosopher mentioned by Chuang Tzŭ, not seeing that the individual in question was a creation of Chuang Tzŭ's brain!

Two centuries before the Christian era, an attempt was made to destroy nearly all Chinese literature, with some exceptions. The aim was to make history begin again with the reign of the First Emperor of united China. The actual damage done by this "Burning of the Books" has been greatly exaggerated. Still, the mere attempt at such a wholesale destruction gave scholars of the later Han dynasty (A.D. 25 to 221) a fine opportunity. They seem to have enjoyed nothing more than forging works by ancient authors, if not the whole works, then at least parts of them. Someone even produced a treatise under the name of Lieh Tzŭ, a philosopher mentioned by Chuang Tzŭ. The forger failed to see that Lieh Tzŭ was a creation of Chuang Tzŭ's imagination!

And the Tao-Tê-Ching was undoubtedly pieced together somewhere about this period, from recorded sayings and conversations of Lao Tzŭ.¹³

And the Tao-Tê-Ching was undoubtedly compiled around this time from recorded sayings and conversations of Lao Tzŭ.¹³

Chuang Tzŭ's work has suffered in like manner. Several chapters are clearly spurious, and many episodes have been interpolated by feeble imitators of an inimitable style.

Chuang Tzŭ's work has suffered in the same way. Several chapters are clearly not genuine. Many episodes were also added by poor imitators of a style that cannot be imitated.

The text, as it now stands, consists of thirty-three chapters. These are a reduction from fifty-three, which appear to have been in existence in the fourth century A.D.¹⁴ The following is the account given in the Imperial Catalogue of the first known edition:—

The text now consists of thirty-three chapters. This is fewer than the fifty-three chapters that appear to have existed in the fourth century A.D.¹⁴ The Imperial Catalogue gives the following account of the first known edition:

Since Kuo Hsiang's time, numberless editions with ever-varying interpretations have been produced to delight and to confuse the student. Of these, I have chosen six, representative as nearly as possible of different schools of thought. Their editors are:—

Since Kuo Hsiang's time, countless editions have appeared, with interpretations that vary from one to another. They have both delighted and confused students. I have chosen six editions that represent different schools of thought as closely as possible. Their editors are:

Where there is a consensus of opinion, I have followed such interpretation without demur. But where opinions differ, I have not hesitated to accept that interpretation which seemed to me to be most in harmony with the general tenor of Chuang Tzŭ's philosophy. And where all commentators fail equally, as they sometimes do, to yield anything at all intelligible, I have then ventured to fall back upon what Chuang Tzŭ himself would have called the "light of nature." Always keeping steadily in view the grand precept of Lin Hsi-chung, that we should attempt to interpret Chuang Tzŭ neither according to Lao Tzŭ, nor according to Confucius, nor according to Buddha, but according to Chuang Tzŭ himself.

Where opinions agree, I have accepted that interpretation without objection. But where opinions differ, I have chosen the interpretation that seemed most consistent with Chuang Tzŭ's philosophy as a whole. Sometimes all commentators fail equally to offer anything intelligible. In those cases, I have dared to rely on what Chuang Tzŭ himself would have called the "light of nature." Throughout, I have kept in mind Lin Hsi-chung's great principle. He said we should interpret Chuang Tzŭ not according to Lao Tzŭ, Confucius, or Buddha, but according to Chuang Tzŭ himself.

Of the thirty-three existing chapters, the first seven are called "inside" chapters, the next fifteen "outside," and the remaining eleven "miscellaneous."

Of the thirty-three existing chapters, the first seven are called "inside" chapters, the next fifteen "outside," and the last eleven "miscellaneous."

The meaning of "inside" and "outside" is a matter of dispute. Some Chinese critics have understood these terms in the obvious sense of esoteric and exoteric. But it is simpler to believe with others that the titles of the first seven chapters are taken from the inside or subject-matter, while the outside chapters are so named because their titles are derived casually from words which happen to stand at the beginning or outside of each.

The meaning of "inside" and "outside" is disputed. Some Chinese critics have understood these terms in the obvious sense of esoteric and exoteric. But it is simpler to agree with others that the first seven chapters take their titles from their contents, or what is inside them. The outside chapters, by contrast, are so named because their titles are taken casually from words that happen to appear at the beginning, or outside, of each chapter.

Compared with the "miscellaneous," these latter seem to have been classed together as elucidating a single principle in terms more easy of apprehension; while the "miscellaneous" chapters embrace several distinct trains of thought, and are altogether more abstruse. The arrangement is unscientific, and it was probably this which caused Su Tung-p'o to decide that division into chapters belongs to a later age. He regards chaps. xxix-xxxii as spurious, although Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien alludes to two of these as Chuang Tzŭ's work. It has indeed been held that the inside chapters alone (i-vii) are from Chuang Tzŭ's own pen. But most of the other chapters, exclusive of xxix-xxxii, contain unmistakable traces of a master hand. Ch. xvii, by virtue of an exquisite imagery, has earned for its author the affectionate sobriquet of "Chou of the Autumn Floods."

Unlike the "miscellaneous" chapters, these latter chapters seem to have been grouped together because they explain a single principle more clearly. The "miscellaneous" chapters cover several distinct lines of thought and are altogether harder to understand. The arrangement is unsystematic. This was probably why Su Tung-p'o concluded that the division into chapters came later. He considers chapters 29 to 32 spurious, although Ssŭ-ma Ch'ien refers to two of them as Chuang Tzŭ's work. Some have argued that only the inside chapters (1 to 7) were written by Chuang Tzŭ himself. But most of the other chapters, apart from chapters 29 to 32, show unmistakable signs of a master hand. The exquisite imagery of chapter 17 has earned its author the affectionate nickname "Chou of the Autumn Floods."

Chuang Tzŭ, it must be remembered, has been for centuries classed as a heterodox writer. His work was an effort of reaction against the materialism of Confucian teachings. And in the course of it he was anything but sparing of terms. Confucius is dealt with in language which no modern literate can approve. But the beauty and vigour of the language are facts admitted by all. He is constantly quoted in the great standard lexicon which passes under the name of K'ang Hsi.

It is worth remembering that Chuang Tzŭ has been considered an unorthodox writer for centuries. His work was a reaction against the materialism of Confucian teachings. In that work, he was anything but restrained in his choice of words. He uses language about Confucius that no modern educated person could approve of. But all acknowledge the beauty and vigor of his language. He is frequently quoted in the great standard dictionary known as K'ang Hsi.

But no acquaintance with the philosophy of Chuang Tzŭ would assist the candidate for honours at the competitive examinations which are the portals to official place and power. Consequently, Chuang Tzŭ is studied chiefly by older men, who have retired from office, or who have been disappointed in their career. Those too who are dominated by a religious craving for something better than mortality, find in his pages much agreeable solace against the troubles of this world, with an implied promise of another and a better world to come.

But knowing Chuang Tzŭ's philosophy would not help someone seeking honors in the competitive examinations. These examinations were the gateway to official positions and power. Consequently, Chuang Tzŭ is studied chiefly by older men who have retired from office or been disappointed in their careers. People driven by a religious longing for something better than mortality also find comfort in his writings. His pages offer solace from the troubles of this world and imply a promise of another, better world to come.

It has been publicly announced that translations of Lao Tzŭ and Chuang Tzŭ are to appear among the Sacred Books of the East.¹⁷

It has been publicly announced that translations of Lao Tzŭ and Chuang Tzŭ will appear in the Sacred Books of the East.¹⁷

Now to include the Tao-Tê-Ching in such a series would be already a doubtful step. Apart from spuriousness, it can only by a severe stretch of courtesy be termed a "sacred book." It undoubtedly contains many of Lao Tzŭ's sayings, but it also undoubtedly contains much that Lao Tzŭ never said and never could have said. It illustrates rather that period when the pure Tao of Lao Tzŭ began to be corrupted by alchemistic research and gropings after the elixir of life. It was probably written up in self-defence against the encroachments of Buddhism, in those early days of religious struggle when China was first flooded with the "sacred books" of the West. It is not seriously recognised as the Canon of ancient Taoism. Among the Taoists of to-day, not one in ten thousand has more than heard its name. For modern Taoism is but a hybrid superstition,—a mixture of ancient nature-worship and Buddhistic ceremonial, with Tao as the style of the firm. Its teachings are farther removed from the Tao of Lao Tzŭ than Ritualism from the Christianity of Christ.

Including the Tao-Tê-Ching in such a series would itself be a questionable step. Even setting aside its doubtful authenticity, it could only be called a "sacred book" by stretching courtesy to its limits. It undoubtedly contains many sayings of Lao Tzŭ. But it also undoubtedly contains much that Lao Tzŭ never said and could never have said. Instead, it reflects the period when Lao Tzŭ's pure Tao began to be corrupted by alchemical research and searches for the elixir of life. It was probably compiled in self-defense against the spread of Buddhism. This was during the early days of religious struggle, when China was first flooded with the "sacred books" of the West. It is not seriously recognized as the canon of ancient Taoism. Among Taoists today, fewer than one in ten thousand know more than its name. For modern Taoism is merely a mixed superstition, combining ancient nature worship with Buddhist ceremony and using Tao as its brand name. Its teachings are farther from Lao Tzŭ's Tao than Ritualism is from the Christianity of Christ.

As to Chuang Tzŭ, his work can in no sense be called "sacred." Unless indeed we modify somewhat the accepted value of terms, and reckon the works of Aristotle among the "sacred" books of the Greeks. Chuang Tzŭ was scarcely the founder of a school. He was not a Prophet, as Lao Tzŭ was, nor can he fairly be said ever to have been regarded by genuine Taoists as such.

Chuang Tzŭ's work cannot be called "sacred" in any sense. Unless, of course, we change the usual meaning of the word and count Aristotle's works among the "sacred" books of the Greeks. Chuang Tzŭ was hardly the founder of a school. He was not a Prophet, as Lao Tzŭ was. Nor can we fairly say that genuine Taoists ever regarded him as one.

When, many centuries later, the light of Lao Tzŭ's real teachings had long since been obscured, then a foolish Emperor conferred upon Chuang Tzŭ's work the title of Holy Canon of Nan-hua.¹⁸ But this was done solely to secure for the follies of the age the sanction of a great name. Not to mention that Lieh Tzŭ's alleged work, and many other similar forgeries have also been equally honoured. So that if works like these are to be included among the Sacred Books of the East, then China alone will be able to supply matter for translation for the next few centuries to come.

Many centuries later, the true teachings of Lao Tzŭ had long since been obscured. Then a foolish Emperor gave Chuang Tzŭ's work the title Holy Canon of Nan-hua.¹⁸ But he did this solely to lend the authority of a great name to the follies of his age. Not to mention that Lieh Tzŭ's supposed work and many other similar forgeries have received the same honor. So, if works like these are included among the Sacred Books of the East, China alone will be able to supply material for translation for the next few centuries.

Partly of necessity, and partly to spare the general reader, I have relegated to a supplement all textual and critical notes involving the use of Chinese characters. This supplement will be issued as soon as possible after my return to China. It will not form an integral part of the present work, being intended merely to assist students of the language in verifying the renderings I have here seen fit to adopt. As a compromise I have supplied a kind of running commentary, introduced, in accordance with the Chinese system, into the body of the text. It is hoped that this will enable any one to understand the drift of Chuang Tzŭ's allusions, and to follow arguments which are usually subtle and oft-times obscure.

Partly out of necessity, and partly to spare the general reader, I have put all textual and critical notes that use Chinese characters in a supplement. The supplement will be published as soon as possible after I return to China. It will not be an essential part of this work. It is intended only to help students of the language check the translations I have chosen here. As a compromise, I have provided a kind of running commentary within the text, following the Chinese practice. I hope this commentary will help anyone understand the meaning of Chuang Tzŭ's allusions and follow his arguments. These arguments are usually subtle and often obscure.

Only one previous attempt has been made to place Chuang Tzŭ in the hands of English readers.¹⁹ In that case, the knowledge of the Chinese language possessed by the translator was altogether too elementary to justify such an attempt.²⁰

Only one previous attempt has been made to make Chuang Tzŭ available to English readers.¹⁹ The translator's knowledge of Chinese was far too elementary to justify the attempt.²⁰

HERBERT A. GILES.

HERBERT A. GILES.