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The _Li Chi_, or Book of Rites, seems to have been a compilation
by
two cousins, known as the Elder and the Younger TAI, who flourished
in
the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. From existing documents, said to
have
emanated from Confucius and his disciples, the Elder Tai prepared
a
work in 85 sections on what may be roughly called social rites.
The
Younger Tai reduced these to 46 sections. Later scholars, such as
Ma
Jung and Cheng Hsuan, left their mark upon the work, and it was
not
until near the close of the 2nd century A.D. that finality in
this
direction was achieved. It then became known as a _Chi_ = Record,
not
as a _Ching_ = Text, the latter term being reserved by the
orthodox
solely for such books as have reached us direct from the hands
of
Confucius. The following is an extract (Legge’s
translation):--
Confucius said: “Formerly, along with Lao Tan, I was
assisting at a
burial in the village of Hsiang, and when we had got to the
path the
sun was eclipsed. Lao Tan said to me, ‘Ch’iu, let the bier be
stopped
on the left of the road; and then let us wail and wait till the
eclipse
pass away. When it is light again we will proceed.’ He said that
this
was the rule. When we had returned and completed the burial, I
said
to him, ‘In the progress of a bier there should be no returning.
When
there is an eclipse of the sun, we do not know whether it will
pass
away quickly or not; would it not have been better to go on?’ Lao
Tan
said, ‘When the prince of a state is going to the court of the Son
of
Heaven, he travels while he can see the sun. At sundown he halts
and
presents his offerings (to the spirit of the way). When a great
officer
is on a mission, he travels while he can see the sun, and at
sundown
he halts. Now a bier does not set forth in the early morning,
nor
does it rest anywhere at night; but those who travel by starlight
are
only criminals and those who are hastening to the funeral rites of
a
parent.’”
Other specimens will be found in Chapters iii. and
iv.
* * * * *
Until the time of the
Ming dynasty, A.D. 1368, another and
a much older work, known as the _Chou
Li_, or Rites of the Chou
dynasty, and dealing more with constitutional
matters, was always
coupled with the _Li Chi_, and formed one of the then
recognised Six
Classics. There is still a third work of the same class, and
also of
considerable antiquity, called the _I Li_. Its contents treat mostly
of
the ceremonial observances of everyday life.
* *
* * *
[Sidenote: THE SPRING AND AUTUMN]
We now come to
the last of the Five Classics as at present constituted,
the _Ch’un Ch’iu_,
or Spring and Autumn Annals. This is a chronological
record of the chief
events in the State of Lu between the years B.C.
722-484, and is generally
regarded as the work of Confucius, whose
native State was Lu. The entries are
of the briefest, and comprise
notices of incursions, victories, defeats,
deaths, murders, treaties,
and natural phenomena.
The following are a
few illustrative extracts:--
“In the 7th year of Duke Chao, in spring,
the Northern Yen State made
peace with the Ch’i State.
“In the 3rd
month the Duke visited the Ch’u State.
“In summer, on the _chia shen_ day
of the 4th month (March 11th,
B.C. 594), the sun was eclipsed.
“In the
7th year of Duke Chuang (B.C. 685), in summer, in the
4th moon, at midnight,
there was a shower of stars like rain.”
The Spring and Autumn owes its
name to the old custom of prefixing to
each entry the year, month, day, and
season when the event recorded
took place; spring, as a commentator explains,
including summer, and
autumn winter. It was the work which Confucius singled
out as that
one by which men would know and commend him, and Mencius
considered
it quite as important an achievement as the draining of the
empire
by the Great Yu. The latter said, “Confucius completed the
Spring
and Autumn, and rebellious ministers and bad sons were struck
with
terror.” Consequently, just as in the case of the Odes, native
wits
set to work to read into the bald text all manner of hidden
meanings,
each entry being supposed to contain approval or condemnation,
their
efforts resulting in what is now known as the praise-and-blame
theory.
The critics of the Han dynasty even went so far as to declare
the
very title elliptical for “praise life-giving like spring, and
blame
life-withering like autumn.”
[Sidenote: THE TSO
CHUAN]
Such is the _Ch’un Ch’iu_; and if that were all, it is difficult
to say
how the boast of Confucius could ever have been fulfilled. But it
is
not all; there is a saving clause. For bound up, so to speak, with
the
Spring and Autumn, and forming as it were an integral part of the
work,
is a commentary known as the _Tso Chuan_ or TSO’S Commentary.
Of the
writer himself, who has been canonised as the Father of Prose,
and to whose
pen has also been attributed the _Kuo Yu_ or Episodes of
the States, next to
nothing is known, except that he was a disciple of
Confucius; but his glowing
narrative remains, and is likely to continue
to remain, one of the most
precious heirlooms of the Chinese people.
What Tso did was this. He took
the dry bones of these annals and
clothed them with life and reality by
adding a more or less complete
setting to each of the events recorded. He
describes the loves and
hates of the heroes, their battles, their treaties,
their feastings,
and their deaths, in a style which is always effective, and
often
approaches to grandeur. Circumstances of apparently the most
trivial
character are expanded into interesting episodes, and every now
and
again some quaint conceit or scrap of proverbial literature is
thrown
in to give a passing flavour of its own. Under the 21st year of
Duke
Hsi, the Spring and Autumn has the following exiguous
entry:--
“In summer there was great drought.”
To this the _Tso
Chuan_ adds--
“In consequence of the drought the Duke wished to burn a
witch. One of
his officers, however, said to him, ‘That will not affect the
drought.
Rather repair your city walls and ramparts; eat less, and curtail
your
expenditure; practise strict economy, and urge the people to help
one
another. That is the essential; what have witches to do in the
matter?
If God wishes her to be slain, it would have been better not to
allow
her to be born. If she can cause a drought, burning her will
only
make things worse.’ The Duke took this advice, and during that
year,
although there was famine, it was not very severe.”
Under the
12th year of Duke Hsuan the Spring and Autumn says--
“In spring the ruler
of the Ch’u State besieged the capital of the
Cheng State.”
Thereupon
the _Tso Chuan_ adds a long account of the whole business,
from which the
following typical paragraph is extracted:--
“In the rout which followed,
a war-chariot of the Chin State stuck in
a deep rut and could not get on.
Thereupon a man of the Ch’u State
advised the charioteer to take out the
stand for arms. This eased it a
little, but again the horses turned round.
The man then advised that
the flagstaff should be taken out and used as a
lever, and at last the
chariot was extricated. ‘Ah,’ said the charioteer to
the man of Ch’u,
‘we don’t know so much about running away as the people of
your worthy
State.’”
The _Tso Chuan_ contains several interesting
passages on music,
which was regarded by Confucius as an important factor in
the art of
government, recalling the well-known views of Plato in Book III.
of
his _Republic_. Apropos of disease, we read that “the ancient
rulers
regulated all things by music.” Also that “the superior man will
not
listen to lascivious or seductive airs;” “he addresses himself to
his
lute in order to regulate his conduct, and not to delight his
heart.”
When the rabid old anti-foreign tutor of the late Emperor T’ung
Chih
was denouncing the barbarians, and expressing a kindly desire to
“sleep
on their skins,” he was quoting the phraseology of the _Tso
Chuan_.
One hero, on going into battle, told his friends that he should
only
hear the drum beating the signal to advance, for he would take
good
care not to hear the gong sounding the retreat. Another made each
of
his men carry into battle a long rope, seeing that the enemy all
wore
their hair short. In a third case, where some men in possession
of
boats were trying to prevent others from scrambling in, we are
told
that the fingers of the assailants were chopped off in such
large
numbers that they could be picked up in double handfuls.
Many
maxims, practical and unpractical, are to be found scattered over
the _Tso
Chuan_, such as, “One day’s leniency to an enemy entails
trouble for many
generations;” “Propriety forbids that a man should
profit himself at the
expense of another;” “The receiver is as bad as
the thief;” “It is better to
attack than to be attacked.”
When the French fleet returned to Shanghai
in 1885 after being repulsed
in a shore attack at Tamsui, a local wit at once
adapted a verse of
doggerel found in the _Tso Chuan_:--
“_See
goggle-eyes and greedy-guts
Has left his shield among the ruts;
Back
from the field, back from the field
He’s brought his beard, but not his
shield;_”
and for days every Chinaman was muttering the
refrain--
“_Yu sai, yu sai
Ch’i chia fu lai._”
[Sidenote:
KU-LIANG AND KUNG-YANG]
There are two other commentaries on the Spring
and Autumn, similar,
but generally regarded as inferior, to the _Tso Chuan_.
They are by
KU-LIANG and KUNG-YANG, both of the fifth century B.C. The
following
are specimens (Legge’s translation, omitting unimportant
details):--
_Text._--“In spring, in the king’s first month, the first day
of the
moon, there fell stones in Sung--five of them. In the same month,
six
fish-hawks flew backwards, past the capital of Sung.”
The
commentary of Ku-liang says, “Why does the text first say
“there fell,”
and then “stones”? There was the falling, and then
the
stones.
In “six fish-hawks flying backwards past the capital of
Sung,”
the number is put first, indicating that the birds were
collected
together. The language has respect to the seeing of the
eyes.
The Master said, “Stones are things without any intelligence,
and
fish-hawks creatures that have a little intelligence. The
stones,
having no intelligence, are mentioned along with the day
when
they fell, and the fish-hawks, having a little intelligence,
are
mentioned along with the month when they appeared. The superior
man
(Confucius) even in regard to such things and creatures
records
nothing rashly. His expressions about stones and fish-hawks
being
thus exact, how much more will they be so about
men!”
The commentary of Kung-yang says, “How is it that the text
first
says “there fell,” and then “stones”?
“There fell
stones” is a record of what was heard. There was heard
a noise of
something falling. On looking at what had fallen, it was
seen to be
stones, On examination it was found there were five
of
them.
Why does the text say “six,” and then
“fish-hawks”?
“Six fish-hawks backwards flew” is a record of what was
seen. When
they looked at the objects, there were six. When they
examined
them, they were fish-hawks. When they examined them leisurely,
they
were flying backwards.
Sometimes these commentaries are
seriously at variance with that of
Tso. For instance, the text says that in
B.C. 689 the ruler of the Chi
State “made a great end of his State.” Tso’s
commentary explains the
words to mean that for various urgent reasons the
ruler abdicated.
Kung-yang, however, takes quite a different view. He
explains the
passage in the sense that the State in question was utterly
destroyed,
the population being wiped out by the ruler of another State in
revenge
for the death in B.C. 893 of an ancestor, who was boiled to death
at
the feudal metropolis in consequence of slander by a contemporary
ruler
of the Chi State. It is important for candidates at the public
examinations
to be familiar with these discrepancies, as they are
frequently called upon
to “discuss” such points, always with the object
of establishing the orthodox
and accepted interpretations.
[Sidenote: KUNG-YANG CHUAN]
The
following episode is from Kung-yang’s commentary, and is quite
different from
the story told by Tso in reference to the same
passage:--
_Text._--“In
summer, in the 5th month, the Sung State made peace with
the Ch’u
State.
“In B.C. 587 King Chuang of Ch’u was besieging the capital
of
Sung. He had only rations for seven days, and if these were
exhausted
before he could take the city, he meant to withdraw. He
therefore
sent his general to climb the ramparts and spy out the condition
of
the besieged. It chanced that at the same time an officer of the
Sung
army came forth upon the ramparts, and the two met. ‘How is your
State
getting on?’ inquired the general. ‘Oh, badly,’ replied the
officer.
‘We are reduced to exchanging children for food, and their bones
are
chopped up for fuel.’ ‘That is bad indeed,’ said the general; ‘I
had
heard, however, that the besieged, while feeding their horses with
bits
in their mouths, kept some fat ones for exhibition to strangers.
What
a spirit is yours!’ To this the officer replied, ‘I too have
heard
that the superior man, seeing another’s misfortune, is filled
with
pity, while the ignoble man is filled with joy. And in you I
recognise
the superior man; so I have told you our story.’ ‘Be of good
cheer,’
said the general. ‘We too have only seven days’ rations, and if
we
do not conquer you in that time, we shall withdraw.’ He then bowed,
and
retired to report to his master. The latter said, ‘We must now
capture the
city before we withdraw.’ ‘Not so,’ replied the general; ‘I
told the officer
we had only rations for seven days.’ King Chuang was
greatly enraged at this;
but the general said, ‘If a small State like
Sung has officers who speak the
truth, should not the State of Ch’u
have such men also?’ The king still
wished to remain, but the general
threatened to leave him, and thus peace was
brought about between the
two States.”
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Supposed
to have been stamped pieces of linen, used as a
circulating medium before the
invention of coins.
CHAPTER III
THE FOUR
BOOKS--MENCIUS
[Sidenote: THE LUN YU]
No Chinaman thinks of
entering upon a study of the Five Classics until
he has mastered and
committed to memory a shorter and simpler course
known as The Four
Books.
The first of these, as generally arranged for students, is the
_Lun
Yu_ or Analects, a work in twenty short chapters or books,
retailing
the views of Confucius on a variety of subjects, and expressed so
far
as possible in the very words of the Master. It tells us nearly all
we
really know about the Sage, and may possibly have been put
together
within a hundred years of his death. From its pages we seem to
gather
some idea, a mere _silhouette_ perhaps, of the great moralist
whose
mission on earth was to teach duty towards one’s neighbour to
his
fellow-men, and who formulated the Golden Rule: “What you would
not
others should do unto you, do not unto them!”
It has been urged by
many, who should know better, that the negative
form of this maxim is unfit
to rank with the positive form as given to
us by Christ. But of course the
two are logically identical, as may
be shown by the simple insertion of the
word “abstain;” that is, you
would not that others should abstain from
certain actions in regard to
yourself, which practically conveys the positive
injunction.
When a disciple asked Confucius to explain charity of heart,
he replied
simply, “Love one another.” When, however, he was asked concerning
the
principle that good should be returned for evil, as already
enunciated
by Lao Tzŭ (see ch. iv.), he replied, “What then will you return
for
good? No: return good for good; for evil, justice.”
He was never
tired of emphasising the beauty and necessity of truth: “A
man without
truthfulness! I know not how that can be.”
“Let loyalty and truth be
paramount with you.”
“In mourning, it is better to be sincere than
punctilious.”
“Man is born to be upright. If he be not so, and yet live,
he is lucky
to have escaped.”
“Riches and honours are what men desire;
yet except in accordance with
right these may not be
enjoyed.”
Confucius undoubtedly believed in a Power, unseen and eternal,
whom he
vaguely addressed as Heaven: “He who has offended against Heaven
has
none to whom he can pray.” “I do not murmur against Heaven,” and
so
on. His greatest commentator, however, Chu Hsi, has explained that
by
“Heaven” is meant “Abstract Right,” and that interpretation is
accepted
by Confucianists at the present day. At the same time,
Confucius
strongly objected to discuss the supernatural, and suggested that
our
duties are towards the living rather than towards the dead.
He
laid the greatest stress upon filial piety, and taught that man is
absolutely
pure at birth, and afterwards becomes depraved only because
of his
environment.
Chapter x. of the _Lun Yu_ gives some singular details of
the every-day
life and habits of the Sage, calculated to provoke a smile
among those
with whom reverence for Confucius has not been a first principle
from
the cradle upwards, but received with loving gravity by the
Chinese
people at large. The following are extracts (Legge’s translation)
from
this famous chapter:--
“Confucius, in his village, looked simple
and sincere, and as if he
were not able to speak. When he was in the prince’s
ancestral temple or
in the court, he spoke minutely on every point, but
cautiously.
“When he entered the palace gate, he seemed to bend his body,
as if it
were not sufficient to admit him.
“He ascended the dais,
holding up his robe with both his hands and his
body bent; holding in his
breath also, as if he dared not breathe.
“When he was carrying the
sceptre of his prince, he seemed to bend his
body as if he were not able to
bear its weight.
“He did not use a deep purple or a puce colour in the
ornaments of his
dress. Even in his undress he did not wear anything of a red
or reddish
colour.
“He required his sleeping dress to be half as long
again as his body.
“He did not eat rice which had been injured by heat or
damp and turned
sour, nor fish or flesh which was gone. He did not eat what
was
discoloured, or what was of a bad flavour, nor anything which was
not
in season. He did not eat meat which was not cut properly, nor what
was
served without its proper sauce.
“He was never without ginger when
he ate. He did not eat much.
“When eating, he did not converse. When in
bed, he did not speak.
“Although his food might be coarse rice and
vegetable soup, he would
offer a little of it in sacrifice with a grave
respectful air.
“If his mat was not straight, he did not sit on
it.
“The stable being burned down when he was at Court, on his return
he
said, ‘Has any man been hurt?’ He did not ask about the
horses.
“When a friend sent him a present, though it might be a carriage
and
horses, he did not bow. The only present for which he bowed was that
of
the flesh of sacrifice.
“In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. At
home, he did not put on any
formal deportment.
“When he saw any one in
a mourning dress, though it might be an
acquaintance, he would change
countenance; when he saw any one wearing
the cap of full dress, or a blind
person, though he might be in his
undress, he would salute them in a
ceremonious manner.
“When he was at an entertainment where there was an
abundance of
provisions set before him, he would change countenance and
rise
up. On a sudden clap of thunder or a violent wind, he would
change
countenance.”
* * * *
*
[Sidenote: MENCIUS]
Next in educational order follows the work
briefly known as
MENCIUS. This consists of seven books recording the
sayings
and doings of a man to whose genius and devotion may be traced
the
final triumph of Confucianism. Born in B.C. 372, a little over
a
hundred years after the death of the Master, Mencius was brought up
under the
care of his widowed mother, whose name is a household word
even at the
present day. As a child he lived with her at first near
a cemetery, the
result being that he began to reproduce in play the
solemn scenes which were
constantly enacted before his eyes. His mother
accordingly removed to another
house near the market-place, and before
long the little boy forgot all about
funerals and played at buying and
selling goods. Once more his mother
disapproved, and once more she
changed her dwelling; this time to a house
near a college, where he
soon began to imitate the ceremonial observances in
which the students
were instructed, to the great joy and satisfaction of his
mother.
Later on he studied under K’ung Chi, the grandson of Confucius;
and
after having attained to a perfect apprehension of the roms or Way
of
Confucius, became, at the age of about forty-five, Minister under
Prince
Hsuan of the Ch’i State. But the latter would not carry out his
principles,
and Mencius threw up his post. Thence he wandered away to
several States,
advising their rulers to the best of his ability, but
making no very
prolonged stay. He then visited Prince Hui of the Liang
State, and abode
there until the monarch’s death in B.C. 319.
After that event he returned to
the State of Ch’i and resumed his old
position. In B.C. 311 he once more felt
himself constrained
to resign office, and retired finally into private life,
occupying
himself during the remainder of his days in teaching and in
preparing
the philosophical record which now passes under his name. He lived
at
a time when the feudal princes were squabbling over the rival
systems
of federation and imperialism, and he vainly tried to put into
practice
at an epoch of blood and iron the gentle virtues of the Golden
Age.
His criterion was that of Confucius, but his teachings were on a
lower
plane, dealing rather with man’s well-being from the point of
view
of political economy. He was therefore justly named by Chao Ch’i
the
Second Holy One or Prophet, a title under which he is still known.
He
was an uncompromising defender of the doctrines of Confucius, and he
is
considered to have effectually “snuffed out” the heterodox schools
of Yang
Chu and Mo Ti.
The following is a specimen of the logomachy of the day,
in which
Mencius is supposed to have excelled. The subject is a
favourite
one--human nature:--
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘Human nature may be
compared with a block of wood; duty
towards one’s neighbour, with a wooden
bowl. To develop charity and
duty towards one’s neighbour out of human nature
is like making a bowl
out of a block of wood.’
“To this Mencius
replied, ‘Can you, without interfering with the
natural constitution of the
wood, make out of it a bowl? Surely you
must do violence to that constitution
in the process of making your
bowl. And by parity of reasoning you would do
violence to human nature
in the process of developing charity and duty
towards one’s neighbour.
From which it follows that all men would come to
regard these rather as
evils than otherwise.’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘Human
nature is like rushing water, which flows east
or west according as an outlet
is made for it. For human nature
makes indifferently for good or for evil,
precisely as water makes
indifferently for the east or for the
west.’
“Mencius replied, ‘Water will indeed flow indifferently towards
the
east or west; but will it flow indifferently up or down? It will
not;
and the tendency of human nature towards good is like the tendency
of
water to flow down. Every man has this bias towards good, just as
all
water flows naturally downwards. By splashing water, you may
indeed
cause it to fly over your head; and by turning its course you may
keep
it for use on the hillside; but you would hardly speak of such
results
as the nature of water. They are the results, of course, of a
_force
majeure_. And so it is when the nature of man is diverted towards
evil.’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘That which comes with life is
nature.’
“Mencius replied, ‘Do you mean that there is such a thing as
nature in
the abstract, just as there is whiteness in the
abstract?’
“‘I do,’ answered Kao Tzŭ.
“‘Just, for instance,’
continued Mencius, ‘as the whiteness of a
feather is the same as the
whiteness of snow, or the whiteness of snow
as the whiteness of
jade?’
“‘I do,’ answered Kao Tzŭ again.
“‘In that case,’ retorted
Mencius, ‘the nature of a dog is the same as
that of an ox, and the nature of
an ox the same as that of a man.’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘Eating and reproduction
of the species are natural
instincts. Charity is subjective and innate; duty
towards one’s
neighbour is objective and acquired. For instance, there is a
man who
is my senior, and I defer to him as such. Not because any
abstract
principle of seniority exists subjectively in me, but in the same
way
that if I see an albino, I recognise him as a white man because he
is
so objectively to me. Consequently, I say that duty towards one’s
neighbour
is objective or acquired.’
“Mencius replied, ‘The cases are not
analogous. The whiteness of a
white horse is undoubtedly the same as the
whiteness of a white man;
but the seniority of a horse is not the same as the
seniority of a
man. Does our duty to our senior begin and end with the fact
of his
seniority? Or does it not rather consist in the necessity of
deferring
to him as such?’
“Kao Tzŭ said, ‘I love my own brother, but
I do not love another man’s
brother. The distinction arises from within
myself; therefore I call it
subjective or innate. But I defer to a stranger
who is my senior, just
as I defer to a senior among my own people. The
distinction comes to me
from without; therefore I call it objective or
acquired.”
“Mencius retorted, ‘We enjoy food cooked by strangers just as
much as
food cooked by our own people. Yet extension of your principle
lands
us in the conclusion that our appreciation of cooked food is
also
objective and acquired.’”
* * * *
*
The following is a well-known colloquy between Mencius and a sophist
of
the day who tried to entangle the former in his talk:--
The sophist
inquired, saying, “‘Is it a rule of social etiquette that
when men and women
pass things from one to another they shall not allow
their hands to
touch?’
“‘That is the rule,’ replied Mencius.
“‘Now suppose,’
continued the sophist, ‘that a man’s sister-in-law were
drowning, could he
take hold of her hand and save her?’
“‘Any one who did not do so,’ said
Mencius, ‘would have the heart of a
wolf. That men and women when passing
things from one to another may
not let their hands touch is a rule for
general application. To save
a drowning sister-in-law by taking hold of her
hand is altogether an
exceptional case.’”
* *
* * *
The works of Mencius abound, like the Confucian
Analects, in
sententious utterances. The following examples illustrate his
general
bias in politics:--“The people are of the highest importance; the
gods
come second; the sovereign is of lesser weight.”
“Chieh and Chou
lost the empire because they lost the people, which
means that they lost the
confidence of the people. The way to gain
the people is to gain their
confidence, and the way to do that is to
provide them with what they like and
not with what they loathe.”
* * * *
*
This is how Mencius snuffed out the two heterodox
philosophers
mentioned above:--
“The systems of Yang Chu and Mo Ti
fill the whole empire. If a man is
not a disciple of the former, he is a
disciple of the latter. But Yang
Chu’s egoism excludes the claim of a
sovereign, while Mo Ti’s universal
altruism leaves out the claim of a father.
And he who recognises the
claim of neither sovereign nor father is a brute
beast.”
* * * * *
Yang Chu seems to
have carried his egoism so far that even to benefit
the whole world he would
not have parted with a single hair from his
body.
“The men of old knew
that with life they had come but for a while,
and that with death they would
shortly depart again. Therefore they
followed the desires of their own
hearts, and did not deny themselves
pleasures to which they felt naturally
inclined. Fame tempted them not;
but led by their instincts alone, they took
such enjoyments as lay in
their path, not seeking for a name beyond the
grave. They were thus out
of the reach of censure; while as for precedence
among men, or length
or shortness of life, these gave them no concern
whatever.”
Mo Ti, on the other hand, showed that under the altruistic
system all
calamities which men bring upon one another would altogether
disappear,
and that the peace and happiness of the Golden Age would be
renewed.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: TA
HSUEH AND CHUNG YUNG]
In the _Ta Hsueh_, or Great Learning, which forms
Sect. xxxix. of the
Book of Rites, and really means learning for adults, we
have a short
politico-ethical treatise, the authorship of which is unknown,
but
is usually attributed partly to Confucius, and partly to TSENG
TS’AN,
one of the most famous of his disciples. In the former
portion there occurs
the following well-known climax:--
“The men of old, in their desire to
manifest great virtue throughout
the empire, began with good government in
the various States. To
achieve this, it was necessary first to order aright
their own
families, which in turn was preceded by cultivation of their
own
selves, and that again by rectification of the heart, following
upon
sincerity of purpose which comes from extension of knowledge, this
last
being derived from due investigation of objective
existences.”
* * * * *
One more
short treatise, known as the _Chung Yung_, which forms Ch.
xxviii. of the
Book of Rites, brings us to the end of the Four Books.
Its title has been
translated in various ways.[2] Julien rendered the
term by “L’Invariable
Milieu,” Legge by “The Doctrine of the Mean.” Its
authorship is assigned to
K’UNG CHI, grandson of Confucius.
He seems to have done little more than
enlarge upon certain general
principles of his grandfather in relation to the
nature of man and
right conduct upon earth. He seizes the occasion to
pronounce an
impassioned eulogium upon Confucius, concluding with the
following
words:--
“Therefore his fame overflows the Middle Kingdom,
and reaches the
barbarians of north and south. Wherever ships and waggons can
go, or
the strength of man penetrate; wherever there is heaven above and
earth
below; wherever the sun and moon shed their light, or frosts and
dews
fall,--all who have blood and breath honour and love him. Wherefore
it
may be said that he is the peer of God.”
FOOTNOTE:
[2]
_Chung_ means “middle,” and _Yung_ means “course,” the former being
defined
by the Chinese as “that which is without deflection or bias,”
the latter as
“that which never varies in its direction.”
CHAPTER
IV
MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS
Names of the authors who belong to
this period, B.C. 600 to
B.C. 200, and of the works on a variety of subjects
attributed
to them, would fill a long list. Many of the latter have
disappeared,
and others are gross forgeries, chiefly of the first and
second
centuries of our era, an epoch which, curiously enough, is
remarkable
for a similar wave of forgery on the other side of the world. As
to the
authors, it will be seen later on that the Chinese even went so far
as
to create some of these for antiquity and then write up treatises
to
match.
There was SUN TZŬ of the 6th century B.C. He is said
to
have written the _Ping Fa_, or Art of War, in thirteen sections,
whereby
hangs a strange tale. When he was discoursing one day with
Prince Ho-lu of
the Wu State, the latter said, “I have read your book
and want to know if you
could apply its principles to women.” Sun Tzŭ
replied in the affirmative,
whereupon the Prince took 180 girls out of
his harem and bade Sun Tzŭ deal
with them as with troops. Accordingly
he divided them into two companies, and
at the head of each placed a
favourite concubine of the Prince. But when the
drums sounded for drill
to begin, all the girls burst out laughing. Thereupon
Sun Tzŭ, without
a moment’s delay, caused the two concubines in command to be
beheaded.
This at once restored order, and ultimately the corps was raised to
a
state of great efficiency.
The following is an extract from the Art
of War:--
“If soldiers are not carefully chosen and well drilled to obey,
their
movements will be irregular. They will not act in concert. They
will
miss success for want of unanimity. Their retreat will be
disorderly,
one half fighting while the other is running away. They will
not
respond to the call of the gong and drum. One hundred such as
these
will not hold their own against ten well-drilled men.
“If their
arms are not good, the soldiers might as well have none. If
the cuirass is
not stout and close set, the breast might as well be
bare. Bows that will not
carry are no more use at long distances than
swords and spears. Bad marksmen
might as well have no arrows. Even good
marksmen, unless able to make their
arrows pierce, might as well shoot
with headless shafts. These are the
oversights of incompetent generals.
Five such soldiers are no match for
one.”
It is notwithstanding very doubtful if we have any genuine remains
of
either Sun Tzŭ, or of Kuan Tzŭ, Wu Tzŭ, Wen Tzŭ, and several
other
early writers on war, political philosophy, and cognate subjects.
The
same remark applies equally to Chinese medical literature, the bulk
of
which is enormous, some of it nominally dating back to legendary
times,
but always failing to stand the application of the simplest
test.
* * * * *
The _Erh Ya_, or
Nearing the Standard, is a work which has often been
assigned to the 12th
century B.C. It is a guide to the correct
use of many miscellaneous terms,
including names of animals, birds,
plants, etc., to which are added numerous
illustrations. It was first
edited with commentary by Kuo P’o, of whom we
shall read later on, and
some Chinese critics would have us believe that the
illustrations we
now possess were then already in existence. But the whole
question is
involved in mystery. The following will give an idea of the
text:--
“For metal we say _lou_ (to chase); for wood _k’o_ (to carve);
for bone
_ch’ieh_ (to cut),” etc., etc.
* * *
* *
[Sidenote: T’AN KUNG]
There are some interesting remains
of a writer named T’AN KUNG, who
flourished in the 4th and 3rd centuries
B.C., and whose work has been
included in the Book of Rites. The three
following extracts will give
an idea of his scope:--
1. “One day
Yu-tzŭ and Tzŭ-yu saw a child weeping for the loss of its
parents. Thereupon
the former observed, ‘I never could understand
why mourners should
necessarily jump about to show their grief, and
would long ago have got rid
of the custom. Now here you have an honest
expression of feeling, and that is
all there should ever be.’
“‘My friend,’ replied Tzŭ-yu, ‘the mourning
ceremonial, with all its
material accompaniments, is at once a check upon
undue emotion and a
guarantee against any lack of proper respect. Simply to
give vent to
the feelings is the way of barbarians. That is not our
way.
“‘Consider. A man who is pleased will show it in his face. He
will
sing. He will get excited. He will dance. So, too, a man who is
vexed
will look sad. He will sigh. He will beat his breast. He will
jump
about. The due regulation of these emotions is the function of a
set
ceremonial.
“‘Further. A man dies and becomes an object of
loathing. A dead body is
shunned. Therefore, a shroud is prepared, and other
paraphernalia of
burial, in order that the survivors may cease to loathe. At
death there
is a sacrifice of wine and meat; when the funeral cortege is
about to
start, there is another; and after burial there is yet another. Yet
no
one ever saw the spirit of the departed come to taste of the
food.
“‘These have been our customs from remote antiquity. They have not
been
discarded, because, in consequence, men no more shun the dead. What
you
may censure in those who perform the ceremonial is no blemish in
the
ceremonial itself.’”
2. “When Tzŭ-chu died, his wife and secretary
took counsel together as
to who should be interred with him. All was settled
before the arrival
of his brother, Tzŭ-heng; and then they informed him,
saying, ‘The
deceased requires some one to attend upon him in the nether
world. We
must ask you to go down with his body into the grave.’ ‘Burial of
the
living with the dead,’ replied Tzŭ-heng, ‘is not in accordance
with
established rites. Still, as you say some one is wanted to attend
upon
the deceased, who better fitted than his wife and secretary? If
this
contingency can be avoided altogether, I am willing; if not, then
the
duty will devolve upon you two.’ From that time forth the custom
fell
into desuetude.”
3. “When Confucius was crossing the T’ai
mountain, he overheard a
woman weeping and wailing beside a grave. He
thereupon sent one of
his disciples to ask what was the matter; and the
latter addressed
the woman, saying, ‘Some great sorrow must have come upon
you that
you give way to grief like this?’ ‘Indeed it is so,’ replied she.
‘My
father-in-law was killed here by a tiger; after that, my husband;
and
now my son has perished by the same death.’ ‘But why, then,’
inquired
Confucius, ‘do you not go away?’ ‘The government is not
harsh,’ answered the
woman. ‘There!’ cried the Master, turning to his
disciples; ‘remember that.
Bad government is worse than a tiger.’”
* * *
* *
[Sidenote: HSUN TZŬ]
The philosopher HSUN TZŬ of the 3rd
century B.C.
is widely known for his heterodox views on the nature of man,
being
directly opposed to the Confucian doctrine so warmly advocated
by
Mencius. The following passage, which hardly carries
conviction,
contains the gist of his argument:--
“By nature, man is
evil. If a man is good, that is an artificial
result. For his condition being
what it is, he is influenced first of
all by a desire for gain. Hence he
strives to get all he can without
consideration for his neighbour. Secondly,
he is liable to envy and
hate. Hence he seeks the ruin of others, and loyalty
and truth are set
aside. Thirdly, he is a slave to his animal passions. Hence
he commits
excesses, and wanders from the path of duty and
right.
“Thus, conformity with man’s natural disposition leads to all
kinds of
violence, disorder, and ultimate barbarism. Only under the restraint
of
law and of lofty moral influences does man eventually become fit to
be
a member of regularly organised society.
“From these premisses it
seems quite clear that by nature man is evil;
and that if a man is good, that
is an artificial result.”
The _Hsiao Ching_, or Classic of Filial Piety,
is assigned partly to
Confucius and partly to TSENG TS’AN, though it more
probably
belongs to a very much later date. Considering that filial piety
is
admittedly the keystone of Chinese civilisation, it is disappointing
to
find nothing more on the subject than a poor pamphlet of
commonplace
and ill-strung sentences, which gives the impression of having
been
written to fill a void. One short extract will suffice:--
“The
Master said, ‘There are three thousand offences against which the
five
punishments are directed, and there is not one of them greater
than being
unfilial.
“‘When constraint is put upon a ruler, that is the disowning of
his
superiority; when the authority of the sages is disallowed, that
is
the disowning of all law; when filial piety is put aside, that is
the
disowning of the principle of affection. These three things pave
the
way to anarchy.’”
* * * *
*
The _Chia Yu_, or Family Sayings of Confucius, is a work with
a
fascinating title, which has been ascribed by some to the
immediate
disciples of Confucius, but which, as it now exists, is usually
thought
by native scholars to have been composed by Wang Su, a learned
official
who died A.D. 256. There appears to have been an older work
under
this same title, but how far the later work is indebted to it, or
based upon
it, seems likely to remain unknown.
Another discredited work is the _Lu
Shih Ch’un Ch’iu_, or Spring and
Autumn of LU PU-WEI, who died B.C. 235 and
was the putative sire of the
First Emperor (see ch. vii.). It contains a
great deal about the early
history of China, some of which is no doubt based
upon fact. |
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