ht of Nature.

"Only the truly intelligent understand this principle of the
identity of things. They do not view things as apprehended by
themselves, but transfer themselves into the position of the
things viewed."--And there, I may say, you have it: the last is
the secret of the wonder-light in all Far Eastern Poetry and Art;
more, it is the explanation of all poetry everywhere. It is the
doctrine, the archeus, the _Open Sesame,_ the thyme- and
lavender- and sweetwilliam-breathed Secret Garden of this old
wizardly Science of Song;--who would go in there, and have the
dark and bright blossoms for his companions, let him understand
this. For Poetry is the revelation of the Great Life beyond the
little life of this human personality; to tap it, you must evict
yourself from the personal self; "transfer yourself into the
position of the things viewed," and not see, but _be,_ the little
stumbling wave or the spray of plum-blossom, thinking its
thoughts.--"Viewing things thus," continues our Chwangtse, "you
are able to comprehend and master them. So it is that to place
oneself in inner relation with externals, without consciousness
of their objectivity,--this is Tao. But to wear out one's
intellect in an obstinate adherence to the objectivity--the
apartness--of things, not recognizing that they are all one--this
is called _Three in the Morning._--'What do you mean by _Three in
the Morning?'_ asked Tse Yu.--'A keeper of monkeys,' Tse Chi
replied, 'said with regard to their daily ration of chestnuts
that each monkey should have three in the morning and four at
night. At this the monkeys were very angry; so he said that
they might have four in the morning and three at night; whereat
they were well pleased. The number of nuts was the same; but
there was an adaptation to the feelings of those concerned.'"--
which, again, means simply that to follow Tao and dodge until it
is altogether sloughed off the sense of separateness, is to
follow the lines of least resistance.

All these ideas are a natural growth from the teachings of
Laotse; but Butterfly Chwang, in working them out and stating
them so brilliantly, did an inestimable service to the ages that
were to come.

XIV. THE MANVANTARA OPENS

Laotse's Blue Pearl was already shining into poetry. Ch'u Yuan,
the first great poet, belongs to this same fourth century; it is
a long step from the little wistful ballads that Confucius
gathered to the "wild irregul