CHAPTER VI. · 1

The Great Supreme.

Argument:—The human and the divine—The pure men of old—Their qualifications—Their self-abstraction—All things as ONE—The known and the unknown—Life a boon—Death a transition—Life eternal open to all—The way thither—Illustrations.

He who knows what God is, and who knows what Man is, has attained. Knowing what God is, he knows that he himself proceeded therefrom. Knowing what Man is, he rests in the knowledge of the known, waiting for the knowledge of the unknown. Working out one's allotted span, and not perishing in mid career,—this is the fulness of knowledge.

God is a principle which exists by virtue of its own intrinsicality, and operates spontaneously, without self-manifestation.

It is in the human that the divine finds expression. Man emanates from God, and should therefore be on earth, in this brief life of ours, what God is for all eternity in the universe.

Herein, however, there is a flaw. Knowledge is dependent upon fulfilment. And as this fulfilment is uncertain, how can it be known that my divine is not really human, my human really divine?

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Not until death lifts the veil can we truly know that this life is bounded at each end by an immortality to which the soul finally reverts.

"Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state."

We must have pure men, and then only can we have pure knowledge.

"Pure" must be understood in the sense of transcendent.

But what is a pure man?—The pure men of old acted without calculation, not seeking to secure results. They laid no plans. Therefore, failing, they had no cause for regret; succeeding, no cause for congratulation. And thus they could scale heights without fear; enter water without becoming wet; fire, without feeling hot. So far had their wisdom advanced towards Tao.

"The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and waves cannot drown him."—Emerson.

The pure men of old slept without dreams, and waked without anxiety. They ate without discrimination, breathing deep breaths. For pure men draw breath from their uttermost depths; the vulgar only from their throats.

"Uttermost depths" is literally "heels," but all the best commentators take the sentence to mean that pure men breathe with their whole being, and not as it were superficially, from the throat only.

This passage is probably responsible for the trick of taking deep inhalations of morning air, practised[70] (not without scientific foundation) by the followers of the debased Taoism of modern times. Other tricks for prolonging life, such as swallowing the saliva three times in every two hours, etc., are more open to adverse criticism. See the T'ai-Hsi-Ching.

Out of the crooked, words are retched up like vomit. If men's passions are deep, their divinity is shallow.

The pure men of old did not know what it was to love life or to hate death. They did not rejoice in birth, nor strive to put off dissolution. Quickly come, and quickly go;—no more. They did not forget whence it was they had sprung, neither did they seek to hasten their return thither. Cheerfully they played their allotted parts, waiting patiently for the end. This is what is called not to lead the heart astray from Tao,

By admitting play of passion in the sense condemned in ch. v. which would hinder the mind from resting quietly in the knowledge of the known.

nor to let the human seek to supplement the divine.

But to wait patiently for the knowledge of the unknown.

And this is what is meant by a pure man.

Such men are in mind absolutely free; in demeanour, grave; in expression, cheerful. If it is freezing cold, it seems to them like autumn; if blazing hot, like spring. Their passions occur like the four seasons.

Each at its appointed time.

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They are in harmony with all creation, and none know the limit thereof.

These last few words occur in the Tao-Tê-Ching, ch. lviii. See The Remains of Lao Tzŭ, p. 40. Also, with a variation, in ch. xxii of this work.

And so it is that a perfect man can destroy a kingdom and yet not lose the hearts of the people, while the benefits he hands down to ten thousand generations do not proceed from love of his fellow-man.

Whatever he does is spontaneous, and therefore natural, and therefore in accordance with right.

He who delights in man, is himself not a perfect man. His affection is not true charity.