Chapter XI: Classical Literature of the Chinese (2)

How did it receive [those] bribes? Duke Hien [of Tsin] gave audience
to his great officers, and asked them why it was that he had lain
all night without sleeping. One of them advanced and said, “Was it
because you did not feel at ease [in your mind]? or was it because
your [proper] bedfellow was not by your side?” The duke gave no
answer, and then Seun Seih came forward and said, “Was it because Yu
and Kwoh were appearing to you?” The duke motioned to him to come
[more] forward, and then went with him into an inner apartment to
take counsel. “I wish,” said he, “to attack Kwoh, but Yu will go
to its relief, and if I attack Yu Kwoh will succor it; what is to
be done? I wish to consider the case with you.” Seun Seih replied,
“If you will use my counsel, you shall take Kwoh to-day and Yu
to-morrow; why should your lordship be troubled?” “How is this to
be accomplished?” asked the duke. “Please let [me go to] Yu,” said
the other, “with your team of Kiuh horses and your white _peih_ of
Chui-keih, and you are sure to get [what you want]. It will only be
taking your valuable [_peih_] from your inner treasury and depositing
it in an outer one; your lordship will lose nothing by it.” The duke
said, “Yes; but Kung Che-kí is there. What are we to do with him?”
Seun Seih replied, “Kung Che-kí is indeed knowing; but the Duke of Yu
is covetous, and fond of valuable curios; he is sure not to follow
his minister’s advice. I beg you, considering everything, to let me
go.” ... etc., etc.

The following, as a brief sample of the Kuh Liang commentary, takes up the narrative where we have broken off. There is so much that is similar in these two latter exegeses as to lead to the belief that they were composed with reference to each other.

On this Duke Hien sought [in the way proposed] for a passage [through
Yu] to invade Kwoh. Kung Che-kí remonstrated, saying, “The words of
the envoy of Tsin are humble, but his offerings are great; the matter
is sure not to be advantageous to Yu.” The Duke of Yu, however, would
not listen to him, but received the offerings and granted the passage
through the State. Kung Che-kí remonstrated [again], suggesting
that the case was like that in the saying about the lips being gone
and the teeth becoming cold; after which he fled with his wife and
children to Tsao.

Duke Hien then destroyed Kwoh, and in the fifth year [of our Duke
Hí] he dealt in the same way with Yu. Seun Seih then had the horses
led forward, while he carried the _peih_ in his hand, and said:
“The _peih_ is just as it was, but the horses’ teeth are grown
longer!”[319]

Meagre as are the items of the text, they show, together with its copious commentaries, the methodical care of the early Chinese in preserving their ancient records. The hints which these and other books give of their intellectual activity during the eight centuries before Christ, naturally compel a higher estimate of their culture than we have hitherto allowed them.[320]

* * * * *

The sixth section of the Catalogue has already been noticed as comprising the literature of the _Hiao King_.

The seventh section contains a list of works written to elucidate the Five Classics as a whole, and if their character for originality of thought, variety of research, extent of illustration, and explanation of obscurities was comparable to their size and numbers, no books in any language could boast of the aids possessed by the _Wu King_ for their right comprehension. Of these commentators, Chu Hí of Kiangsí, who lived during the Sung dynasty, has so greatly exceeded all others in illustrating and expounding them, that his explanations are now considered of almost equal authority with the text, and are always given to the beginner to assist him in ascertaining its true meaning.

The eighth section of the Catalogue comprises memoirs and comments upon the _Sz’ Shu_, or ‘Four Books,’ which have been nearly as influential in forming Chinese mind as the _Wu King_. They are by different authors, and since their publication have perhaps undergone a few alterations and interpolations, but the changes either in these or the Five Classics cannot be very numerous or great, since the large body of disciples who followed Confucius, and had copies of his writings, would carefully preserve uncorrupt those which he edited, and hand down unimpaired those which contained his sayings. None of the Four Books were actually written by Confucius himself, but three of them are considered to be a digest of his sentiments; they were arranged in their present form by the brothers Ching, who flourished about eight centuries ago.

~THE GREAT LEARNING AND JUST MEDIUM.~

The first of the Four Books is the _Ta Hioh_, _i.e._, ‘Superior’ or ‘Great Learning,’ which originally formed one chapter of the _Book of Rites_. It is now divided into eleven chapters, only the first of which is ascribed to the sage, the remainder forming the comment upon them; the whole does not contain two thousand words. The argument of the _Ta Hioh_ is briefly summed up in four heads, “the improvement of one’s self, the regulation of a family, the government of a state, and the rule of an empire.” In the first chapter this idea is thus developed in a circle peculiarly Chinese:

The ancients, who wished to illustrate renovating virtue throughout
the Empire, first ordered well their own states. Wishing to order
well their states, they first regulated their families. Wishing
to regulate their families, they first cultivated their persons.
Wishing to cultivate their persons, they first rectified their
hearts. Wishing to rectify their hearts, they first sought to be
sincere in their thoughts. Wishing to be sincere in their thoughts,
they first extended their knowledge to the utmost. Such extension
of knowledge lay in the investigation of things. Things being
investigated, knowledge became complete: knowledge being complete,
their thoughts were sincere: their thoughts being sincere, their
hearts were then rectified: their hearts being rectified, their
persons were cultivated: their persons being cultivated, their
families were regulated: families being regulated, states were
rightly governed; and states being rightly governed, the Empire was
made tranquil.

From the Son of Heaven to the man of the people, all must consider
the cultivation of the person to be the foundation.

The subsequent chapters mainly consist of the terse sayings of ancient kings and authors gathered and arranged by Tsăng and afterward by Chu Hí, designed to illustrate and enforce the teachings of Confucius contained in the first. One quotation only can be given from Chapter X.

In the Declaration of [the Duke of] Tsin, it is said: “Let me
have but one minister plain and sincere, not pretending to other
abilities, but with a simple upright mind; and possessed of
generosity, regarding the talents of others as though he possessed
them himself, and where he finds accomplished and perspicacious men,
loving them in his heart more than his mouth expresses, and really
showing himself able to avail himself of them; such a minister will
be able to preserve my descendants and the Black-haired people, and
benefits to the kingdom might well be looked for. But if it be, when
he finds men of ability, he is jealous and hateful to them; and
when he meets accomplished and perspicacious men, he opposes them
and will not allow their advancement, showing that he is really not
able to avail himself of them; such a minister will not be able to
protect my descendants and the Black-haired people. May he not even
be pronounced dangerous?”

It will be willingly allowed, when reading these extracts, that, destitute as they were of the high sanctions and animating hopes and promises of the Word of God, these Chinese moralists began at the right place in their endeavors to reform and benefit their countrymen, and that they did not fully succeed was owing to causes beyond their reforming power.

The second of the Four Books is called _Chung Yung_, or the ‘Just Medium,’ and is, in some respects, the most elaborate treatise in the series. It was composed by Kung Kih, the grandson of Confucius (better known by his style TSZ’-SZ’), about ninety years after the sage’s death. It once also formed part of the _Lí Kí_, from which it, as well as the _Ta Hioh_, were taken out by Chu Hí to make two of the _Sz’ Shu_. It has thirty-three chapters, and has been the subject of numerous comments. The great purpose of the author is to illustrate the nature of human virtue, and to exhibit its conduct in the actions of an ideal _kiun tsz’_, or ‘princely man’ of immaculate propriety, who always demeans himself correctly, without going to extremes. He carries out the advice of Hesiod:

“Let every action prove a mean confess’d;
A moderation is, in all, the best.”

True virtue consists in never going to extremes, though it does not appear that by this the sage meant to repress active benevolence on the one hand, or encourage selfish stolidity on the other. _Ching_, or uprightness, is said to be the basis of all things; and _ho_, harmony, the all-pervading principle of the universe; “extend uprightness and harmony to the utmost, and heaven and earth will be at rest, and all things be produced and nourished according to their nature.” The general character of the work is monotonous, but relieved with some animated passages, among which the description of the _kiun tsz’_, or princely man, is one. “The princely man, in dealing with others, does not descend to anything low or improper. How unbending his valor! He stands in the middle, and leans not to either side. The princely man enters into no situation where he is not himself. If he holds a high situation, he does not treat with contempt those below him; if he occupies an inferior station, he uses no mean arts to gain the favor of his superiors. He corrects himself and blames not others; he feels no dissatisfaction. On the one hand, he murmurs not at Heaven; nor, on the other, does he feel resentment toward man. Hence, the superior man dwells at ease, entirely waiting the will of Heaven.”[321]

~THE SAGE, OR PRINCELY MAN.~

Chinese moralists divide mankind into three classes, on these principles: “Men of the highest order, as sages, worthies, philanthropists, and heroes, are good without instruction; men of the middling classes are so after instruction, such as husbandmen, physicians, astrologers, soldiers, etc., while those of the lowest are bad in spite of instruction, as play-actors, pettifoggers, slaves, swindlers, etc.” The first are _shing_, or sages; the second are _hien_, or worthies; the last are _yu_, or worthless. Sir John Davis notices the similarity of this triplicate classification with that of Hesiod. The _Just Medium_ thus describes the first character:

It is only the sage who is possessed of that clear discrimination
and profound intelligence which fit him for filling a high station;
who possesses that enlarged liberality and mild benignity which
fit him for bearing with others; who manifests that firmness and
magnanimity that enable him to hold fast good principles; who is
actuated by that benevolence, justice, propriety, and knowledge which
command reverence; and who is so deeply learned in polite learning
and good principles as to qualify him rightly to discriminate. Vast
and extensive are the effects of his virtue; it is like the deep
and living stream which flows unceasingly; it is substantial and
extensive as Heaven, and profound as the great abyss. Wherever ships
sail or chariots run; wherever the heavens overshadow and the earth
sustains; wherever the sun and moon shine, or frosts and dews fall,
among all who have blood and breath, there is not one who does not
honor and love him.[322]

Sincerity or conscientiousness holds a high place among the attributes of the superior or princely man; but in translating the Chinese terms into English, it is sometimes puzzling enough to find those which will exhibit the exact idea of the original. For instance, sincerity is described as “the origin or consummation of all things; without it, there would be nothing. It is benevolence by which a man’s self is perfected, and knowledge by which he perfects others.” In another place we read that “one sincere wish would move heaven and earth.” The _kiun tsz’_ is supposed to possess these qualities. The standard of excellence is placed so high as to be absolutely unattainable by unaided human nature; and though Kih probably intended to elevate the character of his grandfather to this height, and thus hand him down to future ages as a _shing jin_, or ‘perfect and holy man,’ he has, in the providence of God, done his countrymen great service in setting before them such a character as is here given in the _Chung Yung_. By being made a text-book in the schools it has been constantly studied and memorized by generations of students, to their great benefit.

~THE ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS.~

The third of the Four Books, called the _Lun Yu_, or ‘Analects of Confucius,’ is divided into twenty chapters, in which the collective body of his disciples recorded his words and actions, much in the same way that Boswell did those of Johnson. It has not, however, the merit of chronological arrangement, and parts of it are so sententious as to be obscure, if not almost unintelligible. This work discloses the sage’s shrewd insight into the character of his countrymen, and knowledge of the manner in which they could best be approached and influenced. Upon the commencement of his career as reformer and teacher, he contented himself with reviving the doctrines of the “Ancients;” but finding his influence increasing as he continued these instructions, he then--yet always as under their authority--engrafted original ideas and tenets upon the minds of his generation. Had even his loftiest sentiments been propounded as his own, they would hardly have been received in his day, and, perhaps, through the contempt felt for him by his contemporaries, have been lost entirely.

Among the most remarkable passages of the Four Books are the following: Replying to the question of Tsz’-kung, “Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all of one’s life?” Confucius said: “Is not _shu_ (‘reciprocity’) such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others.” In a previous place Tsz’-kung had said: “What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men.” Confucius replied: “Tsz’, you have not attained to that.” The same principle is repeated in the _Chung Yung_, where it is said that the man who does so is not far from the path. Another is quoted in the Imperial Dictionary, under the word _Fuh_: “The people of the west have sages,” or “There is a sage (or holy man) among the people of the west,” where the object is to show that he did not mean Buddha. As Confucius was contemporary with Ezra, it is not impossible that he had heard something of the history of the Israelites scattered throughout the one hundred and twenty-seven provinces of the Persian monarchy, or of the writings of their prophets, though there is not the least historical evidence that he knew anything of the countries in Western Asia, or of the books extant in their languages.

Some idea of the character of the _Lun Yu_ may be gathered from a few detached sentences, selected from Marshman’s translation.[323]

Grieve not that men know you not, but be grieved that you are
ignorant of men.

Governing with equity resembles the north star, which is fixed, and
all the stars surround it.

Have no friends unlike yourself.

Learning without reflection will profit nothing; reflection without
learning will leave the mind uneasy and miserable.

Knowledge produces pleasure clear as water; complete virtue brings
happiness solid as a mountain; knowledge pervades all things; virtue
is tranquil and happy; knowledge is delight; virtue is long life.

Without virtue, both riches and honor seem to me like the passing
cloud.

The sage’s conduct is affection and benevolence in operation.

The man who possesses complete virtue wishes to fix his own mind
therein, and also to fix the minds of others; he wishes to be wise
himself, and would fain render others equally wise.

Those who, searching for virtue, refuse to stay among the virtuous,
how can they obtain knowledge?

The rich and honorable are those with whom men desire to associate;
not obtaining their company in the paths of virtue, however, do not
remain in it.

In your appearance, to fall below decency would be to resemble a
savage rustic, to exceed it would be to resemble a fop; let your
appearance be decent and moderate, then you will resemble the
honorable man.

When I first began with men, I heard words and gave credit for
conduct; now I hear words and observe conduct.

I have found no man who esteems virtue as men esteem pleasure.

The perfect man loves all men; he is not governed by private
affection or interest, but only regards the public good or right
reason. The wicked man, on the contrary, loves if you give, and likes
if you commend him.

The perfect man is never satisfied with himself. He that is satisfied
with himself is not perfect.

He that is sedulous and desires to improve in his studies is not
ashamed to stoop to ask of others.

Sin in a virtuous man is like an eclipse of the sun and moon; all men
gaze at it, and it passes away; the virtuous man mends, and the world
stands in admiration of his fall.

Patience is the most necessary thing to have in this world.

~LIFE OF CONFUCIUS.~

A few facts respecting the life, and observations on the character, of the great sage of Chinese letters, may here be added, though the extracts already made from his writings are sufficient to show his style. Confucius was born B.C. 551, in the twentieth year of the Emperor Ling (about the date at which Cyrus became king of Persia), in the kingdom of Lu, now included in Yenchau, in the south of Shantung. His father was a district magistrate, and dying when he was only three years old, left his care and education to his mother, who, although not so celebrated as the mother of Mencius, seems to have nurtured in him a respect for morality, and directed his studies. During his youth he was remarkable for a grave demeanor and knowledge of ancient learning, which gained him the respect and admiration of his townsmen, so that at the age of twenty, the year after his marriage, he was entrusted with the duties of a subordinate office in the revenue department, and afterward appointed a supervisor of fields and herds. In his twenty-fourth year his mother deceased, and in conformity with the ancient usage, which had then fallen into disuse, he immediately resigned all his employments to mourn for her three years, during which time he devoted himself to study. This practice has continued to the present day.

His examination of the ancient writings led him to resolve upon instructing his countrymen in them, and to revive the usages of former kings, especially in whatever related to the rites. His position gave him an entry to court in Lu, where he met educated and influential men, and by the time he was thirty he was already in repute among them as a teacher. His own king, Siang, gave him the means of visiting the imperial court at Lohyang. Here, together with his disciples, he examined everything, past and present, with close scrutiny, and returned home with renewed regard for the ancient founders of the House of Chau. His scholars and admirers increased in numbers, and a corresponding extension of fame followed, so that ere long he had an invitation to the court of the prince of Tsí, but on arrival there was mortified to learn that curiosity had been the prevailing cause of the invitation, and not a desire to adopt his principles. He accordingly left him and went home, where the struggles between three rival families carried disorder and misery throughout the kingdom; it was with the greatest difficulty that he remained neutral between these factions. His disciples were from all parts of the land, and public opinion began to be influenced by his example. At length an opportunity offered to put his tenets into practice. The civil strife had resulted in the flight of the rebels, and Lu was settling down into better government, when in B.C. 500 Confucius was made the magistrate of the town of Chung-tu by his sovereign, Duke Ting. He was now fifty years old, and began to carry out the best rule he could in his position as minister of crime. For three years he administered the affairs of State with such a mixture of zeal, prudence, severity, and regard for the rights and wants of all classes, that Lu soon became the envy and dread of all other States. He even succeeded in destroying two or three baronial castles whose chiefs had set all lawful authority at defiance. His precepts had been fairly put in practice, and, like Solomon, his influence in after-ages was increased by the fact of acknowledged success.

It was but little more than an experiment, however; for Duke King of Tsí, becoming envious of the growing power of his neighbor, sent Ting a tempting present, consisting of thirty horses beautifully caparisoned, and a number of curious rarities, with a score of the most accomplished courtesans he could procure in his territories. This scheme of gaining the favor of the youthful monarch, and driving the obnoxious cynic from his councils, succeeded, and Confucius soon after retired by compulsion into private life. He moved into the dominions of the prince of Wei, accompanied by such of his disciples as chose to follow him, where he employed himself in extending his doctrines and travelling into the adjoining States.

He was at times applauded and patronized, but quite as often the object of persecution and contumely; more than once his life was endangered. He compared himself to a dog driven from his home: “I have the fidelity of that animal, and I am treated like it. But what matters the ingratitude of men? They cannot hinder me from doing all the good that has been appointed me. If my precepts are disregarded, I have the consolation of knowing in my own breast that I have faithfully performed my duty.” He sometimes spoke in a manner that showed his own impression to be that heaven had conferred on him a special commission to instruct the world. On one or two occasions, when he was in jeopardy, he said: “If Heaven means not to obliterate this doctrine from the earth, the men of Kwang can do nothing to me.” And “as Heaven has produced whatever virtue is in me, what can Hwan Tui do to me?”

In his instructions he improved passing events to afford useful lessons, and some of those recorded are at least ingenious. Observing a fowler one day sorting his birds into different cages, he said, “I do not see any old birds here; where have you put them?” “The old birds,” replied the fowler, “are too wary to be caught; they are on the lookout, and if they see a net or cage, far from falling into the snare they escape and never return. Those young ones which are in company with them likewise escape, but only such as separate into a flock by themselves and rashly approach are the birds I take. If perchance I catch an old bird it is because he follows the young ones.” “You have heard him,” observed the sage, turning to his disciples; “the words of this fowler afford us matter for instruction. The young birds escape the snare only when they keep with the old ones, the old ones are taken when they follow the young; it is thus with mankind. Presumption, hardihood, want of forethought, and inattention are the principal reasons why young people are led astray. Inflated with their small attainments they have scarcely made a commencement in learning before they think they know everything; they have scarcely performed a few common virtuous acts, and straight they fancy themselves at the height of wisdom. Under this false impression they doubt nothing, hesitate at nothing, pay attention to nothing; they rashly undertake acts without consulting the aged and experienced, and thus securely following their own notions, they are misled and fall into the first snare laid for them. If you see an old man of sober years so badly advised as to be taken with the sprightliness of a youth, attached to him, and thinking and acting with him, he is led astray by him and soon taken in the same snare. Do not forget the answer of the fowler.”

Once, when looking at a stream, he compared its ceaseless current to the transmission of good doctrine through succeeding generations, and as one race had received it they should hand it down to others. “Do not imitate those isolated men [the Rationalists] who are wise only for themselves; to communicate the modicum of knowledge and virtue we possess to others will never impoverish ourselves.” He seems to have entertained only faint hopes of the general reception of his doctrine, though toward the latter end of his life he had as much encouragement in the respect paid him personally and the increase of his scholars as he could reasonably have wished.

Confucius returned to his native country at the age of sixty-eight, and devoted his time to completing his edition of the classics and in teaching his now large band of disciples. He was consulted by his sovereign, who had invited him to return, and one of his last acts was to go to court to urge an attack on Tsí and punish the murder of its duke. Many legends have gathered around him, so that he now stands before his countrymen as a sage and a demigod; yet there is a remarkable absence of the prophetic and the miraculous in every event connected with these later writings. One story is that when he had finished his writings he collected his friends around him and made a solemn dedication of his literary labors to heaven as the concluding act of his life. “He assembled all his disciples and led them out of the town to one of the hills where sacrifices had usually been offered for many years. Here he erected a table or altar, upon which he placed the books; and then turning his face to the north, adored Heaven, and returned thanks upon his knees in a humble manner for having had life and strength granted him to enable him to accomplish this laborious undertaking; he implored Heaven to grant that the benefit to his countrymen from so arduous a labor might not be small. He had prepared himself for this ceremony by privacy, fasting, and prayer. Chinese pictures represent the sage in the attitude of supplication, and a beam of light or a rainbow descending from the sky upon the books, while his scholars stand around in admiring wonder.”[324]

A few days before his death he tottered about the house, sighing,

_Tai shan, kí tui hu!--Liang muh, kí hwai hu!--Chí jin, kí wei hu!_

The great mountain is broken!
The strong beam is thrown down!
The wise man withers like a plant!

He died soon after, B.C. 478, aged seventy-three, leaving a single descendant, his grandson Tsz’-sz, through whom the succession has been transmitted to the present day. During his life the return of the Jews from Babylon, the invasion of Greece by Xerxes, and conquest of Egypt by the Persians took place. Posthumous honors in great variety, amounting to idolatrous worship, have been conferred upon him. His title is the ‘Most Holy Ancient Teacher’ Kung tsz’, and the ‘Holy Duke.’ In the reign of Kanghí, two thousand one hundred and fifty years after his death, there were eleven thousand males alive bearing his name, and most of them of the seventy-fourth generation, being undoubtedly one of the oldest families in the world. In the _Sacrificial Ritual_ a short account of his life is given, which closes with the following pæan:

Confucius! Confucius! How great is Confucius!
Before Confucius there never was a Confucius!
Since Confucius there never has been a Confucius!
Confucius! Confucius! How great is Confucius!

~CHARACTER OF THE CONFUCIAN SYSTEM.~

The leading features of the philosophy of Confucius are subordination to superiors and kind, upright dealing with our fellow-men; destitute of all reference to an unseen Power to whom all men are accountable, they look only to this world for their sanctions, and make the monarch himself only partially amenable to a higher tribunal. It would indeed be hard to over-estimate the influence of Confucius in his ideal _princely scholar_, and the power for good over his race this conception ever since has exerted. It might be compared to the glorious work of the sculptor on the Acropolis of Athens--that matchless statue more than seventy feet in height, whose casque and spear of burnished brass glittered above all the temples and high places of the city, and engaged the constant gaze of the mariner on the near Ægean; guiding his onward course, it was still ever beyond his reach. Like the Athena Promachos to the ancient Attic voyager, so stands the _kiun-tsz’_ of Confucius among the ideal men of pagan moralists. The immeasurable influence in after-ages of the character thus portrayed proves how lofty was his own standard, and the national conscience has ever since assented to the justice of the portrait.

From the duty, honor, and obedience owed by a child to his parents, he proceeds to inculcate the obligations of wives to their husbands, subjects to their prince, and ministers to their king, together with all the obligations arising from the various social relations. Political morality must be founded on private rectitude, and the beginning of all real advance was, in his opinion, comprised in _nosce teipsum_. It cannot be denied that among much that is commendable there are a few exceptionable dogmas among his tenets, and Dr. Legge, as has already been seen, reflects severely on his disregard of truth in the _Chun Tsiu_ and in his lifetime. Yet compared with the precepts of Grecian and Roman sages, the general tendency of his writings is good, while in adaptation to the society in which he lived, and their eminently practical character, they exceed those of western philosophers. He did not deal much in sublime and unattainable descriptions of virtue, but rather taught how the common intercourse of life was to be maintained--how children should conduct themselves toward their parents, when a man should enter on office, when to marry, etc., etc., which, although they may seem somewhat trifling to us, were probably well calculated for the times and people among whom he lived.[325]

Had Confucius transmitted to posterity such works as the Iliad, the De Officiis, or the Dialogues of Plato, he would no doubt have taken a higher rank among the commanding intellects of the world, but it may be well doubted whether his influence among his own countrymen would have been as good or as lasting. The variety and minuteness of his instructions for the nurture and education of children, the stress he lays upon filial duty, the detail of etiquette and conduct he gives for the intercourse of all classes and ranks in society, characterize his writings from those of all philosophers in other countries, who, comparatively speaking, gave small thought to the education of the young. The Four Books and the Five Classics would not, so far as regards their intrinsic character in comparison with other productions, be considered as anything more than curiosities in literature for their antiquity and language, were it not for the incomparable influence they have exerted over so many millions of minds; in this view they are invested with an interest which no book, besides the Bible, can claim. The source and explanation of this influence is to be found in their use as text-books in the schools and competitive examinations, and well would it be for Christian lands if their youth had the same knowledge of the writings of Solomon and the Evangelists. Their freedom from descriptions of impurity and licentiousness, and allusions to whatever debases and vitiates the heart, is a redeeming quality of the Chinese classics which should not be overlooked. Chinese literature contains enough, indeed, to pollute even the mind of a heathen, but its scum has become the sediment; and little or nothing can be found in the writings that are most highly prized which will not bear perusal by any person in any country. Every one acquainted with the writings of Hindu, Greek, and Roman poets knows the glowing descriptions of the amours of gods and goddesses which fill their pages, and the purity of the Chinese canonical books in this respect must be considered as remarkable.

~WORSHIP OF CONFUCIUS.~

For the most part the Chinese, in worshipping Confucius, content themselves with erecting a simple tablet in his honor; to carve images for the cult of the sage is uncommon. The incident represented in the adjoining wood-cut illustrates, however, an exception to the prevailing severity of this worship. A certain Wei Kí, a scholar living in the Tang dynasty (A.D. 657), not content, it is said, with giving instruction in the classics, set up the life-size statues of Confucius and his seventy-two disciples in order to incite the enthusiasm of his own pupils. Into this sanctuary of the divinities of learning were wont to come the _savant_ Wei and his scholars--among whom were numbered both his grandfather and several of his grandchildren--to prostrate themselves before the ancient worthies. “But of his descendants,” concludes the chronicler, “there were many who arose to positions of eminence in the State.”

The last of the Four Books is nearly as large as the other three united, and consists entirely of the writings of Mencius, Măng tsz’, or Măng fu-tsz’, as he is called by the Chinese.[326] This sage flourished upward of a century after the death of his master, and although, in estimating his character, it must not be forgotten that he had the advantages of his example and stimulus of his fame and teachings, in most respects he displayed an originality of thought, inflexibility of purpose, and extensive views superior to Confucius, and must be regarded as one of the greatest men Asiatic nations have ever produced.

~LIFE OF MENCIUS.~

Mencius was born B.C. 371,[327] in the city of Tsau, now in the province of Shantung, not far from his master’s native district. He was twenty-three years old when Plato died, and many other great men of Greece were his contemporaries. His father died early, and left the guardianship of the boy to his widow, Changshí. “The care of this prudent and attentive mother,” to quote from Rémusat, “has been cited as a model for all virtuous parents. The house she occupied was near that of a butcher; she observed that at the first cry of the animals that were being slaughtered the little Măng ran to be present at the sight, and that on his return he sought to imitate what he had seen. Fearful that his heart might become hardened, and be accustomed to the sight of blood, she removed to another house which was in the neighborhood of a cemetery. The relations of those who were buried there came often to weep upon their graves and make the customary libations; the lad soon took pleasure in their ceremonies, and amused himself in imitating them. This was a new subject of uneasiness to Changshí; she feared her son might come to consider as a jest what is of all things the most serious, and that he would acquire a habit of performing with levity, and as a matter of routine merely, ceremonies which demand the most exact attention and respect. Again, therefore, she anxiously changed her dwelling, and went to live in the city, opposite to a school, where her son found examples the most worthy of imitation, and soon began to profit by them. I should not have spoken of this trifling anecdote but for the allusion which the Chinese constantly make to it in the common proverb, ‘Formerly the mother of Mencius chose out a neighborhood.’” On another occasion her son, seeing persons slaughtering pigs, asked her why they did it. “To feed you,” she replied; but reflecting that this was teaching her son to lightly regard the truth, went and bought some pork and gave him.

Mencius devoted himself early to the classics, and probably attended the instructions of noted teachers of the school of Confucius and his grandson Kih. After his studies were completed, at the age of forty, he came forth as a public teacher, and offered his services to the feudal princes of the country. Among others, he was received by Hwui, king of Wei, but, though much respected by this ruler, his instructions were not regarded; and he soon perceived that among the numerous petty rulers and intriguing statesmen of the day there was no prospect of restoring tranquillity to the Empire, and that discourses upon the mild government and peaceful virtues of Yao and Shun, King Wăn and Chingtang, offered little to interest persons whose minds were engrossed with schemes of conquest or pleasure. He thereupon accepted an invitation to go to Tsí, the adjoining State, and spent most of his public life there; the records show that he was often called on for his advice by statesmen of many governments. As he went from one State to another his influence extended as his experience showed him the difficulties of good government amidst the general disregard of justice, mercy, and frugality. His own unyielding character and stern regard for etiquette and probity chilled the loose, unscrupulous men of those lawless times. At length he retired to his home to spend the last twenty years of his life in the society of his disciples, there completing the work which bears his name and has made him such a power among his countrymen. He has always been an incentive and guide to popular efforts to assert the rights of the subject against the injustice of rulers, and an encourager to rulers who have governed with justice. His assertion of the proper duties and prerogatives belonging to both parties in the State was prior to that of any western writer; some of his principles of liberal government were taught before their enunciation in Holy Writ. He died when eighty-four years old (B.C. 288), shortly before the death of Ptolemy Soter at the same age.

~PERSONAL CHARACTER OF HIS TEACHINGS.~

After his demise Mencius was honored, by public act, with the title of ‘Holy Prince of the country of Tsau,’ and in the temple of the sages he receives the same honors as Confucius; his descendants bear the title of ‘Masters of the Traditions concerning the Classics,’ and he himself is called _A-shing_, or the ‘Secondary Sage,’ Confucius being regarded as the first. His writings are in the form of dialogues held with the great personages of his time, and abound with irony and ridicule directed against vice and oppression, which only make his praises of virtue and integrity more weighty. After the manner of Socrates, he contests nothing with his adversaries, but, while granting their premises, he seeks to draw from them consequences the most absurd, which cover his opponents with confusion.

The king of Wei, one of the turbulent princes of the time, was complaining to Mencius how ill he succeeded in his endeavors to make his people happy and his kingdom flourishing. “Prince,” said the philosopher, “you love war; permit me to draw a comparison from thence: two armies are in presence; the charge is sounded, the battle begins, one of the parties is conquered; half its soldiers have fled a hundred paces, the other half has stopped at fifty. Will the last have any right to mock at those who have fled further than themselves?”

“No,” said the king; “they have equally taken flight, and the same disgrace must attend them both.”

“Prince,” says Mencius quickly, “cease then to boast of your efforts as greater than your neighbors’. You have all deserved the same reproach, and not one has a right to take credit to himself over another.” Pursuing then his bitter interrogations, he asked, “Is there a difference, O king! between killing a man with a club or with a sword?” “No,” said the prince. “Between him who kills with the sword, or destroys by an inhuman tyranny?” “No,” again replied the prince.

“Well,” said Mencius, “your kitchens are encumbered with food, your sheds are full of horses, while your subjects, with emaciated countenances, are worn down with misery, or found dead of hunger in the middle of the fields or the deserts. What is this but to breed animals to prey on men? And what is the difference between destroying them by the sword or by unfeeling conduct? If we detest those savage animals which mutually tear and devour each other, how much more should we abhor a prince who, instead of being a father to his people, does not hesitate to rear animals to destroy them. What kind of father to his people is he who treats his children so unfeelingly, and has less care of them than of the wild beasts he provides for?”

On one occasion, addressing the prince of Tsí, Mencius remarked: “It is not the ancient forests of a country which do it honor, but its families devoted for many generations to the duties of the magistracy. Oh, king! in all your service there are none such; those whom you yesterday raised to honor, what are they to-day?”

“In what way,” replied the king, “can I know beforehand that they are without virtue, and remove them?”

“In raising a sage to the highest dignities of the State,” replied the philosopher, “a king acts only as he is of necessity bound to do. But to put a man of obscure condition over the nobles of his kingdom, or one of his remote kindred over princes more nearly connected with him, demands most careful deliberation. Do his courtiers unite in speaking of a man as wise, let him distrust them. If all the magistrates of his kingdom concur in the same assurance, let him not rest satisfied with their testimony, but if his subjects confirm the story, then let him convince himself; and if he finds that the individual is indeed a sage, let him raise him to office and honor. So, also, if all his courtiers would oppose his placing confidence in a minister, let him not give heed to them; and if all the magistrates are of this opinion, let him be deaf to their solicitations; but if the people unite in the same request, then let him examine the object of their ill-will, and, if guilty, remove him. In short, if all the courtiers think that a minister should suffer death, the prince must not content himself with their opinion merely. If all the high officers entertain the same sentiment, still he must not yield to their convictions; but if the people declare that such a man is unfit to live, then the prince, inquiring himself and being satisfied that the charge is true, must condemn the guilty to death; in such a case, we may say that the people are his judges. In acting thus a prince becomes the parent of his subjects.”

The will of the people is always referred to as the supreme power in the State, and Mencius warns princes that they must both please and benefit their people, observing that “if the country is not subdued in heart there will be no such thing as governing it;” and also, “He who gains the hearts of the people secures the throne, and he who loses the people’s hearts loses the throne.” A prince should “give and take what is pleasing to them, and not do that which they hate.” “Good laws,” he further remarks, “are not equal to winning the people by good instruction.” Being consulted by a sovereign, whether he ought to attempt the conquest of a neighboring territory, he answered: “If the people of Yen are delighted, then take it; but if otherwise, not.” He also countenances the dethroning of a king who does not rule his people with a regard to their happiness, and adduces the example of the founders of the Shang and Chau dynasties in proof of its propriety. “When the prince is guilty of great errors,” is his doctrine, “the minister should reprove him; if, after doing so again and again, he does not listen, he ought to dethrone him and put another in his place.”

~HIS ESTIMATE OF HUMAN NATURE.~

His estimate of human nature, like many of the Chinese sages, is high, believing it to be originally good, and that “all men are naturally virtuous, as all water flows downward. All men have compassionate hearts, all feel ashamed of vice.” But he says also, “Shame is of great moment to men; it is only the designing and artful that find no use for shame.” Yet human nature must be tried by suffering, and to form an energetic and virtuous character a man must endure much; “when Heaven was about to place Shun and others in important trusts, it first generally tried their minds, inured them to abstinence, exposed them to poverty and adversity; thus it moved their hearts and taught them patience.” His own character presents traits widely differing from the servility and baseness usually ascribed to Asiatics, and especially to the Chinese; and he seems to have been ready to sacrifice everything to his principles. “I love life, and I love justice,” he observes, “but if I cannot preserve both, I would give up life and hold fast justice. Although I love life, there is that which I love more than life; although I hate death, there is that which I hate more than death.” And as if referring to his own integrity, he elsewhere says: “The nature of the superior man is such that, although in a high and prosperous situation, it adds nothing to his virtue; and although in low and distressed circumstances, it impairs it in nothing.” In many points, especially in the importance he gives to filial duty, his reverence for the ancient books and princes, and his adherence to old usages, Mencius imitated and upheld Confucius; in native vigor and carelessness of the reproaches of his compatriots he exceeded him. Many translations of his work have appeared in European languages, but Legge’s[328] is in most respects the best for its comments, and the notices of Mencius’ life and times, and a fair estimate of his character and influence.

Returning to the Imperial Catalogue, its ninth section contains a list of musical works, and a few on dancing or posture-making; they hold this distinguished place in the list from the importance attached to music as employed in the State worship and domestic ceremonies.

The tenth section gives the names of philological treatises and lexicons, most of them confined to the Chinese language, though a few are in Manchu. The Chinese government has excelled in the attention it has given to the compilation of lexicons and encyclopædias. The number of works of this sort here catalogued is two hundred and eighteen, the major part issued during this dynasty, and including only works on the general language, none on the dialects. For their extent of quotation, the variety of separate disquisitions upon the form, origin, and composition of characters, and treatises upon subjects connected with the language, they indicate the careful labor native scholars have bestowed upon the elucidation of their own tongue.

~KANGHÍ’S DICTIONARY.~

One of them, the _Pei Wăn Yun Fu_, or ‘Treasury of compared Characters and Sounds,’ is so extensive and profound as to deserve a short notice, which cannot be better made than by an extract from the preface of M. Callery to his prospectus to its translation, of which he only issued one livraison. He says the Emperor Kanghí, who planned its preparation, “assembled in his palace the most distinguished literati of the Empire, and laying before them all the works that could be got, whether ancient or modern, commanded them carefully to collect all the words, allusions, forms and figures of speech of every style, of which examples might be found in the Chinese language; to class the principal articles according to the pronunciation of the words; to devote a distinct paragraph to each expression; and to give in support of every paragraph several quotations from the original works. Stimulated by the munificence, as well as the example, of the Emperor, who reviewed the performances of every day, seventy-six literati assembled at Peking, labored with such assiduity, and kept up such an active correspondence with the learned in all parts of the Empire, that at the end of eight years the work was completed (1711), and printed at the public expense, in one hundred and thirty thick volumes.” The peculiar nature of the Chinese language, in the formation of many dissyllabic compounds of two or more characters to express a third and new idea, renders such a work as this thesaurus more necessary and useful, perhaps, than it would be in any other language. Under some of the common characters as many as three hundred, four hundred, and even six hundred combinations are noticed, all of which modify its sense more or less, and form a complete monograph of the character, of the highest utility to the scholar in composing idiomatic Chinese. This magnificent monument of literary labor reflects great credit on the monarch who took so much interest in its compilation (as he remarks in his preface), as to devote the leisure hours of every day, notwithstanding his manifold occupations, for eight years, to overlooking the labors of the scholars engaged upon it.

FOOTNOTES:

[302] _The Sacred Books of China. The Texts of Confucianism._ Translated by James Legge. Part II. _The Yî King._ Oxford, 1882.

[303] Some fourteen hundred and fifty treatises on the _Yih_--consisting of memoirs, digests, expositions, etc.--are enumerated in the Catalogue. The foreign literature upon it has heretofore been scant. The only other translations of the classic _in extenso_, besides Dr. Legge’s, already quoted, are the _Y-King_; _Antiquissimus Sinarum liber quem ex latina interpretatione_; P. Regis, _aliorumque ex Soc. Jesu P. P._, _edidit_ Julius Mohl, 2 vols., Stuttgart, 1834-39; and _A Translation of the Confucian Yih King, or the Classic of Change_, by the Rev. Canon McClatchie, Shanghai, 1876 (with Chinese text). Compare further _Notice du livre chinois nommé Y-king, avec des notes_, _par_ M. Claude Visdelou, contained in Père Gaubil’s _Chou king_, Paris, 1843; _Die verbogenen Alterthümer der Chineser aus dem uralten Buche Yeking untersuchet_, _von_ M. Joh. Heinrich Schuhmacher, Wolfenbüttel, 1763; Joseph Haas, in _Notes and Queries on China and Japan_, Vol. III., 1869; _China Review_, Vols. I., p. 151; IV., p. 257; and V., p. 132.

[304] Several translations have been made by missionaries. One by P. Gaubil was edited by De Guignes in 1770; a second by Rev. W. H. Medhurst, in 1846; but the most complete by J. Legge, D.D., in 1865, with its notes and text, has brought this _Record_ better than ever before to the knowledge of western scholars.

[305] Legge, _The Chinese Classics_, Vol. III. _Shoo King_, p. 59.

[306] _Chinese Repository_, Vol. VIII., p. 385; Vol. IX., p. 573. _Le Chou-king, un des Livres Sacrés des Chinois, qui renferme les Fondements de leur ancienne Histoire_, etc. Traduit par Feu le P. Gaubil. Paris, 1770, in-4. _La Morale du Chou-king ou le Livre Sacré de la Chine._ (The same), Paris, 1851. _Ancient China. The Shoo King, or the Historical Classic: being the most ancient authentic Record of the Annals of the Chinese Empire_, translated by W. H. Medhurst, Sen., Shanghae, 1846. _Nouveau Journal Asiatique_, Tomes V. (1830), p. 401; VI., p. 401, and XIV. (1842), p. 152. _China Review_, Vol. IV., p. 13. Dr. Legge’s translation has recently (1879) appeared, without the Chinese text, in Max Müller’s series of _Sacred Books of the East_, Vol. III. Richthofen, _China_, Bd. I., pp. 277-365, an exhaustive treatise on the early geography of China, with valuable historical maps.

[307] Dr. Legge, _The She King, translated into English verse_, p. 70. London, 1876.

[308] _Ib._, p. 83.

[309] _Id._, _The She King_, p. 222.

[310] _Id._, _The She King_, p. 347.

[311] A recent German translation of these odes has combined, with much accuracy and a smooth versification, the peculiar adaptability of that tongue to the reproduction (in some degree) of sounds so foreign to the language as Chinese. _Shí King. Das kanonische Liederbuch der Chinesen._ _Uebersetzt von_ Victor von Strauss. Heidelberg, 1880.

[312] _The Chinese Classics_, Vol. IV., pp. 172-180. Hongkong, 1871.