Lao-tzu’s notions on ethics are fortunately set forth with much more fulness than on any other department of knowledge, and in giving a brief account of them one is rather encumbered by the abundance of aphorisms than perplexed by their paucity. In saying this, however, I do not mean to intimate that the philosopher has elaborated a system of speculative or practical morality, or that he has given full and explicit statements about the moral sense and many other subjects familiar to the student of western ethics. On several of these points he is absolutely silent, and his notions about others are expressed darkly and laconically, and only occasionally in a connected manner. We must, however, make the most we can of the obscure text and discordant commentaries, in order to learn at least an outline of what our author taught.

In the first place, Lao-tzu seems to have believed in the existence of a primitive time, when virtue and vice were unknown terms.1 During this period everything that man did was according to Nature (Tao), and this not by any effort on man’s part, but merely as the result of his existence. He knew not good or evil, nor any of the relative virtues and vices which have since obtained names. This was the period of Nature in the world’s history, a period of extreme simplicity of manners and purity of life corresponding to the Garden-of-Eden state of the Hebrews, before man perceived that he was unclothed, and became as a God knowing good and evil. To this succeeded the period of Virtue (?) in two stages or degrees. The higher is almost identical with the state of Nature, as in it also man led a pure life, without need of effort and without consciousness of goodness. Of the people of this period we may speak as the

In the next and lower stage life was still virtuous, though occasionally sliding into vice, and unable to maintain the stability of unconscious and unforced excellence.3 Then came the time when humanity and equity appeared, and when filial piety and integrity made themselves known.4 These were degenerate days when man was no more “Nature’s priest” and when the “vision splendid” had almost ceased to attend him. Finally came the days when craft and cunning were developed, and when insincerity arose. Propriety and carefulness of external deportment also, according to Lao-tzu, indicated a great falling away from primitive simplicity the beginning of trouble; and he, accordingly, speaks of them rather slightingly. This is a point on which Confucius seems to have been of a very different opinion, although he had studied the ceremonial code under Lao-tzu.

Such is, according to the Tao-tÊ Ching, the mode in which the world gradually became what it is at present. The book does not contain any express statement of opinion as to whether each human creature is born with a good or a bad nature. From various passages in it, however, we are authorised in inferring that Lao-tzu regarded an infant as good by nature. Its spirit comes pure and perfect from the Great Mother, but susceptible to all the evil influences which operate upon it and lead it astray.

The standard of virtue to which Lao-tzu refers is Nature (Tao), just as another old philosopher says, “in hoc sumus sapientes, quod naturam optimam ducem, tanquam deum, sequimur eique paremus.”5 By our philosopher, however, Nature is not regarded as personified and deified, but is contemplated as the eternal, spontaneous, and emanatory cause. The manifestation of complete virtue comes from Nature only.6 This is the guide and model of the universe, and it itself has spontaneity as guide, that is, it has no guide whatever. All creatures and man among them, must conform to it or they miss the end of their existence and soon cease to be. As Tao, however, is very indefinite and intangible, Lao-tzu holds it out to mortals as their guide chiefly through the medium of certain other ideas more easily comprehended. Thus Heaven, corresponding somewhat to our notions of providence, imitates Nature, and becomes to man its visible embodiment.7 In its perfect impartiality, its noiseless working, its disinterested and unceasing well-doing, it presents a rule by which man should regulate his life.8 Not less are the material heavens above him a model in their unerring, and spontaneous obedience to Nature, and in their eternal purity. The Earth9 also, with her calm eternal repose, and the great rivers and seas, are types of the far-off olden times, whose boundless merit raised them to the height of fellow-workers with Nature, and to whom all things once paid a willing homage, are patterns for all after ages.10

Of a personal deity above all these our author makes no mention, nor can it be inferred with certainty from his book whether he believed in the existence of such a being. In one place he speaks of Nature (Tao) as being antecedent to the manifestation of Ti (?), a word which the commentators usually explain as meaning lord or master of heaven.11 The learned Dr. Medhurst translates the passage in question thus, “I do not know whose son it (viz., TaÓu) is; it is prior to the (Supreme) Ruler of the visible (heavens).” I do not understand how, after this, the same author can state that the Taoists, that is, with Lao-tzu at their head, understand the word Ti “in the sense of the Supreme Being.”12 Ghosts and Spirits (? and ?) are referred to in the Tao-tÊ Ching, but these are very subordinate beings capable of being controlled by the saints of the earth. Lao-tzu refers, however, as has been seen, to a supernatural punisher of crime; and in several passages he speaks of heaven in a manner very similar to that in which we do when we mean thereby the Deity who presides over heaven and earth.13 Yet we must not forget that it is inferior and subsequent to the mysterious Tao, and in fact produced by the latter. I cannot, accordingly, agree with the learned Pauthier when he writes thus about the Sixteenth Chapter of the Tao-tÊ Ching—“Ce chapitre renferme À lui seul les ÉlÉments d’une religion; et il n’est pas Étonnant que les Sectateurs de Lao-tseu, si habiles, comme tous les Asiatiques, À tirer d’un principe posÉ toutes les consÉquences qui en dÉcoulent logiquement, aient Établi un culte et un sacerdoce avec les doctrines du philosophe; car dÈs l’instant qu’un Dieu suprÊme est annoncÉ, que les bonnes actions et la connaissance que l’on acquiert de lui sont les seuls moyens pour l’homme de parvenir a l’ternelle fÉlicitÉ dans son sein, il est bien Évident qu’il faut des mÉdiateurs entre ce Dieu et l’homme pour conduire et Éclairer les intelligences ignorantes et faibles.”14 Tao with Lao-tzu is not a deity, but is above all deities, and, as has been seen, it is not always represented unchangeable. On the contrary, regarded from one point of view the Tao is in a state of constant change—“twinkling restlessly,” to use an expression from Wordsworth. Only when considered as the existence which was solitary in the universe and eternal, is it spoken of as unchanging. Long after Lao-tzu’s time Tao was, indeed, raised or rather degraded to be a deity, but the theories of later Taoists are seldom the logical developments of the doctrines of Lao-tzu, and in this they err widely.

Of virtue in the abstract little is said by our author, but we know that his idea of it was that it consisted in following Nature (Tao). He generally, however, speaks of it in the concrete as the perfect nature of the world or man and the other creatures of the universe. Sometimes indeed he refers to TÊ, Virtue, as if it were a mysterious, independent existence and not an inherent quality. At other times he seems to regard good and bad as merely relative terms, the existence of the former implying and indeed causing the existence of the latter, and vice versa.

Descending from these generalities, however, we now come to the consideration of Lao-tzu’s conception of the ideal sage. The virtues which characterise the perfect man, and which all should endeavour to possess, are described in the Tao-tÊ Ching with greater or less fulness. Among the most important of these is the negative excellence of an absence of the bustling ostentation of goodness. Not to be fussy or showy, but to do one’s proper work and lead a quiet life without meddling in the concerns of others, are virtues which to Lao-tzu seemed of transcendent importance, the expression which I interpreted as meaning absence of ostentation or bustle is wu-wei (??).15 Many Chinese commentators seem to regard this as equivalent to nothingness, non-existence, or absolute inaction; so Julien also translates it usually by “non-agir.”16 Though, however, the words have in many places these meanings, yet there are several passages which seem to require the explanation given above, and which is also in harmony with the general tenor of the book. Man’s guide is Nature (Tao), and it works incessantly but without noise or show. So also it is not an inactive life that Lao-tzu commends, but a gentle one, and one which does not obtrude itself on the notice of the world. The man who would follow Nature must try to live virtuously without the appearance of so doing; he must present a mean exterior while under it he hides the inestimable jewel.17 The advice which Sir Thomas Browne gives is very like the teaching of Lao-tzu. “Be substantially great in thyself, and more than thou appearest unto others; and let the world be deceived in thee, as they are in the lights of heaven.”18 Again, the man who follows Nature is wise but wears the mask of ignorance19—to the world he appears silly and stupid, but in his breast are deep stores of wisdom. So also he does good without the show of doing it; he helps in the amelioration of his fellows, and indeed of all things in the world, without talking or making any display.20 He does his alms not before men but in secret and without a preluding trumpet. Those are rare who can instruct others without the necessity of talking, and benefit them without making a show; but in striving to attain to this excellence man is aiming at the perfection of Nature.21 The art of living thus is an art made by Nature—the silent, informing, universally-operant spirit. By Nature (Tao) the passions and other impediments to virtue are lessened more and more until man attains to that state of perfection in which he acts naturally and so can do all things.22

The virtue of humility is one of which Lao-tzu speaks very highly. Water is always with him the type of what is humble; and the godlike man, like it, occupies a low position, which others abhor but in which he can profit all around him.23 “The supremely virtuous is like water,” are words taken from the Tao-tÊ Ching, and frequently inscribed on rocks and other objects. Such a man does not claim precedence or merit, nor does he strive with any one.24 He never arrogates honour or preferment, yet they come to him;25 and he is yielding and modest, yet always prevails in the end. When success is obtained, and his desire accomplished, he modestly retires. Pride, on the other hand, and vaulting ambition, always fail to attain the wished-for consummation.26 So also the man who is violent and headstrong generally comes to a bad end.27 Some of the commentators, however, seem to take this humility in a bad sense, and they would make us believe that the quality as recommended by Lao-tzu is not virtue but rather a vice, as partaking of the nature of a trick or artifice. The historical instance which they most frequently quote as illustrating the success of this humility is the career of the famous Chang Tzu-fang (???), a sort of political Uriah Heep.

To continence also Lao-tzu assigns a high place. The total exemption from the power of the passions and desire is a moral pre-eminence to which man should seek to attain—

It is the body, with its inseparably connected emotions and passions, which is the cause of all the ills that attend humanity;28 and he who would return to the state of original innocence must overcome his body.29 To be without desires is to be at rest, and if man were freed from the body he would have no cause for fear. To keep the gateways of the senses closed against the sight, sounds and tastes which distract and mar the soul within, is the simple metaphor which Lao-tzu uses to express this overcoming of self.30 This conquest he puts above every other. He who knows others is learned, but he who knows himself is enlightened; he who overcomes others has physical force, but he who overcomes himself has moral strength.31 The disastrous consequence of yielding to the bodily appetites is beautifully illustrated by a metaphor familiar to us in a Taoist book to which I have already referred. The people of the world following their desires strive for reputation, grasp at gain, covet wine, and lust after beauty—they take the bitter for the pleasant and the false for the real—day and night they toil and moil, morn and even they fret and care, nor desist even when their vital energies are almost exhausted. Like the moth which extinguishes its life in the dazzling blaze of the lamp or the worm which goes to its own destruction in the fire, these men do not wait for the command of the king of Death, but send themselves to the grave.32

Associated with continence is the virtue of moderation, which also must form part of the good man’s character. To be content is to be rich and brings with it no danger or shame, while there is no greater calamity than not to know when to be satisfied.33 He who knows where to stop will not incur peril, nor will he ever indulge in excess. To fill a cup while holding it in the hand is not so good as to let it alone, or, as we say, it is hard to carry a full cup even.34 Too sharp an edge cannot be kept on a tool, and a hall full of gold and precious stones cannot be defended; and he who is wanton in prosperity leaves a legacy of misfortune. Various other metaphors are used to inculcate the necessity of following the mean, and abstaining from extravagance. The man who erects himself on tiptoe cannot continue so, nor can he who takes long strides continue to walk.35 The intelligent and good man will be moderate in all things, not desiring to be prized like jade or slighted like a stone.36

It is also a characteristic of the truly virtuous man that he is always, and especially in privacy, grave and serious, and not unmindful of his weak points. He who knows his strength and protects his weakness at the same time will have all the world resorting to him for instruction and example; eternal virtue will not leave him, and he will return to the natural goodness of infancy.37 Many things fail when the goal is nearly attained, but the godlike man is careful about the end no less than about the beginning.38 So also were the sages of antiquity whose cautious, hesitating character is portrayed in outline as a model for others.39

Mercy is another virtue to which Lao-tzu attaches considerable importance. Nor is the quality of mercy, as he represents it, strained within any narrow compass. On the contrary, it flows not only over all mankind, but even to the entire world. As has been seen, Lao-tzu would have all capital punishment reserved for a supernatural agent to execute, and he would have the correction of wickedness effected by the quiet influence of a good example. He goes farther than this, however; for he will have us to abstain from even judging others—from dividing men into the righteous and the sinners.40 It is Heaven alone which is to determine the moral worth of human creatures, and give to each his meed. And we must not even assign worldly misfortunes to the displeasure of Heaven—must not say that the eighteen on whom the tower of Siloam fell were greater sinners than the other residents in Jerusalem. The good man must not only not think too harshly of the man who is not good,41 but he must even love him, and must reward ill will by virtue—the ne plus ultra of generosity, as one of the commentators observes.42 So also the feeling of compassion will cause the good man to keep his good qualities in the back ground, and not excite the evil passions of the bad man by displaying them obtrusively before him. After a great dispute has been adjusted some grudge is sure to remain, so to live peaceably is to be regarded as virtuous.43 The good man keeps his proof of an agreement, but he does not claim from the other party to it the fulfillment of the agreement, that is, he will not sue him at a court of law. This spirit of mercy and compassion ought not only to prevail in private and social life, but it ought to extend also to the seat of power and even to temper the fierce passions of warfare. Then from the circle of humanity Lao-tsu looks abroad over the ample spaces of nature, and extends to them also a kindly sympathy. The good man never injures anything in the world; on the contrary he saves the inferior creatures and assists them in their ever-renewed operations of coming into existence, growing, and returning to their original source.44 Did the whole creation in his eyes, too, groan and travail in pain?

Of courage, truth, honesty, and several other virtues Lao-tzu does not make much mention. He seems also to think lightly of conventional humanity and equity, but Han WÊn Kung says this was because he had a low conception of these two virtues. According to the figure used by Han, Lao-tzu was as a man sitting at the bottom of a well and pronouncing the sky to be of small dimensions.45 He teaches, however, the mutual dependence of man upon man, and the consequent necessity of the interchange of good offices. The good man gives and asks not—does good and looks not for recompense. He who is virtuous is master of him who is not virtuous, but respect and affection must exist between them. The ruler and the ruled also are mutually dependent, and they too must reciprocate kindness and forbearance.

Lao-tzu repeatedly condemns the vices of much and fine talking. The wise man, he says, does not talk, and to do without audible words is to follow Nature.46 Man ought to be silent in his actions as is the all-working Nature. Faithful words, are not fine, and fine words are not faithful; the virtuous man is not argumentative and vice versa.

To learning and wisdom our author does not, I think, assign a sufficiently high place, but seems rather to condemn them.47 Learning adds to the evils of existence, and if we could put it away we would be exempt from anxiety. The ancient rulers kept the people ignorant and they had good government—so the people ought still to be kept in ignorance. But perhaps Lao-tzu refers to the faults of those persons who drink only slightly of the Pierian spring and then boast of what they acquire, thereby doing injury to themselves and to society. It would, however, have been better if he had distinguished between the pretenders to knowledge, and those who have drunk deeply at the fountain of wisdom by assigning to intellectual worth its proper importance.48

Lao-tzu, as has been seen, is not unmindful of the infirmity of noble minds which expects a recompense for a virtuous life. Nor are the inducements which he holds out of a slight or unworthy nature. On the contrary, they are to souls which have begun to delight in the path of virtue, and also to those still walking in “error’s wandering wood,” calculated to have a great effect. The desires and appetites must all be overcome and self must be subdued, but to him who obtains the victory there remain grand prizes. The gateways of knowledge are open to him, and he can contemplate the mysterious operations of nature.49 Fame and greatness come to him unsolicited, and the years of his life are increased. Having the guileless purity of an infant—becoming like a little child—he will enjoy an exemption from the fear of noxious animals and wicked men.50 Fierce beasts cannot gore or tear him, nor the soldier wound him in battle, that is, having perfect love towards all things he will not fear harm from any.51 The godlike man does not use his neighbour as a foil to set off his own excellence, but rather assimilates himself to all. Thus he comes into intimate union with his fellow creatures and is set on high without incurring any ill-will. He lives not for himself but for others, and his life is prolonged by so doing. He does not amass for himself, nor does he bury his talent in the barren ground of itself. He spends it in the service of his fellows and it comes back to him with interest.52 The more he serves the more he has wherewith to serve, and the more he gives the richer he becomes. It is almost surprising to find this thought thus expressed by Lao-tzu, and the words of one of his disciples, following out the idea, are somewhat remarkable—“There is also accumulation which causes deficiency, and a non-hoarding which results in having something over.”53 There are several passages in the Tao-tÊ Ching besides the above, which might be included among the “testimonia animÆ naturaliter ChristianÆ.” Humility, charity, and the forgiveness of injuries which are sometimes spoken of as purely Christian virtues are certainly inculcated by Lao-tzu.54 But to return to our subject.—Man’s life ought thus to be continued opposition to self, gaining more and more control over it, until the passions cease to trouble and self is perfectly vanquished. Then comes the end which crowns the work. When the fleshly appetites have been subdued, and the spirit has attained that state in which it is

then comes death. And what after death? Man returns to Nature, which delights to receive him, and identifies him with her own mysterious self. Hither, too, come all the myriad things which had once emanated from the womb of the same all-producing mother. This in reality means that man and all other creatures return to nothingness. This is the dreamless sleep wherewith our life is rounded—this is the end of all our woe and misery, to be

There is at least one passage in which Lao-tzu seems to speak of a life after death,55 but this passage presents great difficulties, and perhaps refers only to the “fancied life in others’ breath” by which a man though dead is not lost. That man loses his individuality and that he loses his existence are two doctrines strongly opposed to Lao-tzu. The individual is everything with the one, nothing with the other.56 As to the immortality of the soul, this is a doctrine of which many other excellent philosophers before the rise of Christianity had little or no conception. We are wont to regard the theory of the soul’s mortality as dismal and hopeless; yet Lao-tzu holds out the hope of annihilation or at least of absorption into universal Nature as the highest reward for a life of untiring virtue. Few, he says, understand the matter; and few as yet even understand the meaning of the immortality of the soul. The belief that the soul is mortal no less than the opposite belief seems to lead to the possession of a calm, contented spirit, and an indifference to the things of this life. The strange but eloquent words of the Hydriotaphia on this subject will form the closing sentence of this chapter:—“And if any have been so happy as truly to understand Christian annihilation, ecstasies, exolution, liquefaction, transformation, the kiss of the spouse, gustation of God, and ingression into the divine shadow, they have already had an handsome anticipation of heaven; the glory of the world is surely over, and the earth in ashes unto them.”57