CHINA BEFORE THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Where the Chinese came from is a matter of conjecture. Their early
history is known only from their own annals, which throw no light upon
the question. The Shu-King, one of the Confucian classics (edited, not
composed, by Confucius), begins, like Livy, with legendary accounts of
princes whose virtues and vices are intended to supply edification or
warning to subsequent rulers. Yao and Shun were two model Emperors,
whose date (if any) was somewhere in the third millennium B.C. "The age
of Yao and Shun," in Chinese literature, means what "the Golden Age"
mean with us. It seems certain that, when Chinese history begins, the
Chinese occupied only a small part of what is now China, along the banks
of the Yellow River. They were agricultural, and had already reached a
fairly high level of civilization--much higher than that of any other
part of Eastern Asia. The Yellow River is a fierce and terrible stream,
too swift for navigation, turgid, and full of mud, depositing silt upon
its bed until it rises above the surrounding country, when it suddenly
alters its course, sweeping away villages and towns in a destructive
torrent. Among most early agricultural nations, such a river would have
inspired superstitious awe, and floods would have been averted by human
sacrifice; in the Shu-King, however, there is little trace of
superstition. Yao and Shun, and Yü (the latter's successor), were all
occupied in combating the inundations, but their methods were those of
the engineer, not of the miracle-worker. This shows, at least, the state
of belief in the time of Confucius. The character ascribed to Yao shows
what was expected of an Emperor:--
He was reverential, intelligent, accomplished, and
thoughtful--naturally and without effort. He was sincerely
courteous, and capable of all complaisance. The display of these
qualities reached to the four extremities of the empire, and
extended from earth to heaven. He was able to make the able and
virtuous distinguished, and thence proceeded to the love of the
nine classes of his kindred, who all became harmonious. He also
regulated and polished the people of his domain, who all became
brightly intelligent. Finally, he united and harmonized the
myriad States of the empire; and lo! the black-haired people were
transformed. The result was universal concord.[1]
The first date which can be assigned with precision in Chinese history
is that of an eclipse of the sun in 776 B.C.[2] There is no reason to
doubt the general correctness of the records for considerably earlier
times, but their exact chronology cannot be fixed. At this period, the
Chou dynasty, which fell in 249 B.C. and is supposed to have begun in
1122 B.C., was already declining in power as compared with a number of
nominally subordinate feudal States. The position of the Emperor at this
time, and for the next 500 years, was similar to that of the King of
France during those parts of the Middle Ages when his authority was at
its lowest ebb. Chinese history consists of a series of dynasties, each
strong at first and weak afterwards, each gradually losing control over
subordinates, each followed by a period of anarchy (sometimes lasting
for centuries), and ultimately succeeded by a new dynasty which
temporarily re-establishes a strong Central Government. Historians
always attribute the fall of a dynasty to the excessive power of
eunuchs, but perhaps this is, in part, a literary convention.
What distinguishes the Emperor is not so much his political power, which
fluctuates with the strength of his personality, as certain religious
prerogatives. The Emperor is the Son of Heaven; he sacrifices to Heaven
at the winter solstice. The early Chinese used "Heaven" as synonymous
with "The Supreme Ruler," a monotheistic God;[3] indeed Professor Giles
maintains, by arguments which seem conclusive, that the correct
translation of the Emperor's title would be "Son of God." The word
"Tien," in Chinese, is used both for the sky and for God, though the
latter sense has become rare. The expression "Shang Ti," which means
"Supreme Ruler," belongs in the main to pre-Confucian times, but both
terms originally represented a God as definitely anthropomorphic as the
God of the Old Testament.[4]
As time went by the Supreme Ruler became more shadowy, while "Heaven"
remained, on account of the Imperial rites connected with it. The
Emperor alone had the privilege of worshipping "Heaven," and the rites
continued practically unchanged until the fall of the Manchu dynasty in
1911. In modern times they were performed in the Temple of Heaven in
Peking, one of the most beautiful places in the world. The annual
sacrifice in the Temple of Heaven represented almost the sole official
survival of pre-Confucian religion, or indeed of anything that could be
called religion in the strict sense; for Buddhism and Taoism have never
had any connection with the State.
The history of China is known in some detail from the year 722 B.C.,
because with this year begins Confucius' _Springs and Autumns_, which is
a chronicle of the State of Lu, in which Confucius was an official.
One of the odd things about the history of China is that after the
Emperors have been succeeding each other for more than 2,000 years, one
comes to a ruler who is known as the "First Emperor," Shih Huang Ti. He
acquired control over the whole Empire, after a series of wars, in 221
B.C., and died in 210 B.C. Apart from his conquests, he is remarkable
for three achievements: the building of the Great Wall against the Huns,
the destruction of feudalism, and the burning of the books. The
destruction of feudalism, it must be confessed, had to be repeated by
many subsequent rulers; for a long time, feudalism tended to grow up
again whenever the Central Government was in weak hands. But Shih Huang
Ti was the first ruler who made his authority really effective over all
China in historical times. Although his dynasty came to an end with his
son, the impression he made is shown by the fact that our word "China"
is probably derived from his family name, Tsin or Chin[5]. (The Chinese
put the family name first.) His Empire was roughly co-extensive with
what is now China proper.
The destruction of the books was a curious incident. Shih Huang Ti, as
appears from his calling himself "First Emperor," disliked being
reminded of the fact that China had existed before his time; therefore
history was anathema to him. Moreover the literati were already a strong
force in the country, and were always (following Confucius) in favour of
the preservation of ancient customs, whereas Shih Huang Ti was a
vigorous innovator. Moreover, he appears to have been uneducated and not
of pure Chinese race. Moved by the combined motives of vanity and
radicalism, he issued an edict decreeing that--
All official histories, except the memoirs of Tsin (his own
family), shall be burned; except the persons who have the office
of literati of the great learning, those who in the Empire permit
themselves to hide the Shi-King, the Shu-King (Confucian
classics), or the discourses of the hundred schools, must all go
before the local civil and military authorities so that they may
be burned. Those who shall dare to discuss among themselves the
Shi-King and the Shu-King shall be put to death and their corpses
exposed in a public place; those who shall make use of antiquity
to belittle modern times shall be put to death with their
relations.... Thirty days after the publication of this edict,
those who have not burned their books shall be branded and sent
to forced labour. The books which shall not be proscribed are
those of medicine and pharmacy, of divination ..., of agriculture
and of arboriculture. As for those who desire to study the laws
and ordinances, let them take the officials as masters. (Cordier,
op. cit. i. p. 203.)
It will be seen that the First Emperor was something of a Bolshevik. The
Chinese literati, naturally, have blackened his memory. On the other
hand, modern Chinese reformers, who have experienced the opposition of
old-fashioned scholars, have a certain sympathy with his attempt to
destroy the innate conservatism of his subjects. Thus Li Ung Bing[6]
says:--
No radical change can take place in China without encountering
the opposition of the literati. This was no less the case then
than it is now. To abolish feudalism by one stroke was a radical
change indeed. Whether the change was for the better or the
worse, the men of letters took no time to inquire; whatever was
good enough for their fathers was good enough for them and their
children. They found numerous authorities in the classics to
support their contention and these they freely quoted to show
that Shih Huang Ti was wrong. They continued to criticize the
government to such an extent that something had to be done to
silence the voice of antiquity ... As to how far this decree (on
the burning of the books) was enforced, it is hard to say. At any
rate, it exempted all libraries of the government, or such as
were in possession of a class of officials called Po Szu or
Learned Men. If any real damage was done to Chinese literature
under the decree in question, it is safe to say that it was not
of such a nature as later writers would have us believe. Still,
this extreme measure failed to secure the desired end, and a
number of the men of letters in Han Yang, the capital, was
subsequently buried alive.
This passage is written from the point of view of Young China, which is
anxious to assimilate Western learning in place of the dead scholarship
of the Chinese classics. China, like every other civilized country, has
a tradition which stands in the way of progress. The Chinese have
excelled in stability rather than in progress; therefore Young China,
which perceives that the advent of industrial civilization has made
progress essential to continued national existence, naturally looks with
a favourable eye upon Shih Huang Ti's struggle with the reactionary
pedants of his age. The very considerable literature which has come
down to us from before his time shows, in any case, that his edict was
somewhat ineffective; and in fact it was repealed after twenty-two
years, in 191. B.C.
After a brief reign by the son of the First Emperor, who did not inherit
his capacity, we come to the great Han dynasty, which reigned from 206
B.C. to A.D. 220. This was the great age of Chinese imperialism--exactly
coeval with the great age of Rome. In the course of their campaigns in
Northern India and Central Asia, the Chinese were brought into contact
with India, with Persia, and even with the Roman Empire.[7] Their
relations with India had a profound effect upon their religion, as well
as upon that of Japan, since they led to the introduction of Buddhism.
Relations with Rome were chiefly promoted by the Roman desire for silk,
and continued until the rise of Mohammedanism. They had little
importance for China, though we learn, for example, that about A.D. 164
a treatise on astronomy was brought to China from the Roman Empire.[8]
Marcus Aurelius appears in Chinese history under the name An Tun, which
stands for Antoninus.
It was during this period that the Chinese acquired that immense
prestige in the Far East which lasted until the arrival of European
armies and navies in the nineteenth century. One is sometimes tempted to
think that the irruption of the white man into China may prove almost as
ephemeral as the raids of Huns and Tartars into Europe. The military
superiority of Europe to Asia is not an eternal law of nature, as we are
tempted to think; and our superiority in civilization is a mere
delusion. Our histories, which treat the Mediterranean as the centre of
the universe, give quite a wrong perspective. Cordier,[9] dealing with
the campaigns and voyages of discovery which took place under the Han
dynasty, says:--
The Occidentals have singularly contracted the field of the
history of the world when they have grouped around the people of
Israel, Greece, and Rome the little that they knew of the
expansion of the human race, being completely ignorant of these
voyagers who ploughed the China Sea and the Indian Ocean, of
these cavalcades across the immensities of Central Asia up to the
Persian Gulf. The greatest part of the universe, and at the same
time a civilization different but certainly as developed as that
of the ancient Greeks and Romans, remained unknown to those who
wrote the history of their little world while they believed that
they, were setting forth the history of the world as a whole.
In our day, this provincialism, which impregnates all our culture, is
liable to have disastrous consequences politically, as well as for the
civilization of mankind. We must make room for Asia in our thoughts, if
we are not to rouse Asia to a fury of self-assertion.
After the Han dynasty there are various short dynasties and periods of
disorder, until we come to the Tang dynasty (A.D. 618-907). Under this
dynasty, in its prosperous days, the Empire acquired its greatest
extent, and art and poetry reached their highest point.[10] The Empire
of Jenghis Khan (died 1227) was considerably greater, and contained a
great part of China; but Jenghis Khan was a foreign conqueror. Jenghis
and his generals, starting from Mongolia, appeared as conquerors in
China, India, Persia, and Russia. Throughout Central Asia, Jenghis
destroyed every man, woman, and child in the cities he captured. When
Merv was captured, it was transformed into a desert and 700,000 people
were killed. But it was said that many had escaped by lying among the
corpses and pretending to be dead; therefore at the capture of Nishapur,
shortly afterwards, it was ordered that all the inhabitants should have
their heads cut off. Three pyramids of heads were made, one of men, one
of women, and one of children. As it was feared that some might have
escaped by hiding underground, a detachment of soldiers was left to kill
any that might emerge.[11] Similar horrors were enacted at Moscow and
Kieff, in Hungary and Poland. Yet the man responsible for these
massacres was sought in alliance by St. Louis and the Pope. The times of
Jenghis Khan remind one of the present day, except that his methods of
causing death were more merciful than those that have been employed
since the Armistice.
Kublai Khan (died 1294), who is familiar, at least by name, through
Marco Polo and Coleridge; was the grandson of Jenghis Khan, and the
first Mongol who was acknowledged Emperor of China, where he ousted the
Sung dynasty (960-1277). By this time, contact with China had somewhat
abated the savagery of the first conquerors. Kublai removed his capital
from Kara Korom in Mongolia to Peking. He built walls like those which
still surround the city, and established on the walls an observatory
which is preserved to this day. Until 1900, two of the astronomical
instruments constructed by Kublai were still to be seen in this
observatory, but the Germans removed them to Potsdam after the
suppression of the Boxers.[12] I understand they have been restored in
accordance with one of the provisions of the Treaty of Versailles. If
so, this was probably the most important benefit which that treaty
secured to the world.
Kublai plays the same part in Japanese history that Philip II plays in
the history of England. He prepared an Invincible Armada, or rather two
successive armadas, to conquer Japan, but they were defeated, partly by
storms, and partly by Japanese valour.
After Kublai, the Mongol Emperors more and more adopted Chinese ways,
and lost their tyrannical vigour. Their dynasty came to an end in 1370,
and was succeeded by the pure Chinese Ming dynasty, which lasted until
the Manchu conquest of 1644. The Manchus in turn adopted Chinese ways,
and were overthrown by a patriotic revolution in 1911, having
contributed nothing notable to the native culture of China except the
pigtail, officially abandoned at the Revolution.
The persistence of the Chinese Empire down to our own day is not to be
attributed to any military skill; on the contrary, considering its
extent and resources, it has at most times shown itself weak and
incompetent in war. Its southern neighbours were even less warlike, and
were less in extent. Its northern and western neighbours inhabited a
barren country, largely desert, which was only capable of supporting a
very sparse population. The Huns were defeated by the Chinese after
centuries of warfare; the Tartars and Manchus, on the contrary,
conquered China. But they were too few and too uncivilized to impose
their ideas or their way of life upon China, which absorbed them and
went on its way as if they had never existed. Rome could have survived
the Goths, if they had come alone, but the successive waves of
barbarians came too quickly to be all civilized in turn. China was saved
from this fate by the Gobi Desert and the Tibetan uplands. Since the
white men have taken to coming by sea, the old geographical immunity is
lost, and greater energy will be required to preserve the national
independence.
In spite of geographical advantages, however, the persistence of Chinese
civilization, fundamentally unchanged since the introduction of
Buddhism, is a remarkable phenomenon. Egypt and Babylonia persisted as
long, but since they fell there has been nothing comparable in the
world. Perhaps the main cause is the immense population of China, with
an almost complete identity of culture throughout. In the middle of the
eighth century, the population of China is estimated at over 50
millions, though ten years later, as a result of devastating wars, it is
said to have sunk to about 17 millions.[13] A census has been taken at
various times in Chinese history, but usually a census of houses, not of
individuals. From the number of houses the population is computed by a
more or less doubtful calculation. It is probable, also, that different
methods were adopted on different occasions, and that comparisons
between different enumerations are therefore rather unsafe. Putnam
Weale[14] says:--
The first census taken by the Manchus in 1651, after the
restoration of order, returned China's population at 55 million
persons, which is less than the number given in the first census
of the Han dynasty, A.D. 1, and about the same as when Kublai
Khan established the Mongal dynasty in 1295. (This is presumably
a misprint, as Kublai died in 1294.) Thus we are faced by the
amazing fact that, from the beginning of the Christian era, the
toll of life taken by internecine and frontier wars in China was
so great that in spite of all territorial expansion the
population for upwards of sixteen centuries remained more or less
stationary. There is in all history no similar record. Now,
however, came a vast change. Thus three years after the death of
the celebrated Manchu Emperor Kang Hsi, in 1720, the population
had risen to 125 millions. At the beginning of the reign of the
no less illustrious Ch'ien Lung (1743) it was returned at 145
millions; towards the end of his reign, in 1783, it had doubled,
and was given as 283 millions. In the reign of Chia Ch'ing (1812)
it had risen to 360 millions; before the Taiping rebellion (1842)
it had grown to 413 millions; after that terrible rising it sunk
to 261 millions.
I do not think such definite statements are warranted. The China Year
Book for 1919 (the latest I have seen) says (p. 1):--
The taking of a census by the methods adopted in Western nations
has never yet been attempted in China, and consequently estimates
of the total population have varied to an extraordinary degree.
The nearest approach to a reliable estimate is, probably, the
census taken by the Minchengpu (Ministry of Interior) in 1910,
the results of which are embodied in a report submitted to the
Department of State at Washington by Mr. Raymond P. Tenney, a
Student Interpreter at the U.S. Legation, Peking.... It is
pointed out that even this census can only be regarded as
approximate, as, with few exceptions, households and not
individuals were counted.
The estimated population of the Chinese Empire (exclusive of Tibet) is
given, on the basis of this census, as 329,542,000, while the population
of Tibet is estimated at 1,500,000. Estimates which have been made at
various other dates are given as follows (p. 2):
A.D. A.D.
1381 59,850,000 / 143,125,225
1412 66,377,000 1760--203,916,477
1580 60,692,000 1761 205,293,053
1662 21,068,000 1762 198,214,553
1668 25,386,209 1790 155,249,897
/ 23,312,200 / 307,467,200
1710 --27,241,129 1792- 333,000,000
1711 28,241,129 / 362,467,183
1736 125,046,245 1812--360,440,000
/ 157,343,975 1842 413,021,000
1743 149,332,730 1868 404,946,514
\ 150,265,475 1881 380,000,000
1753 103,050,600 1882 381,309,000
1885 377,636,000
These figures suffice to show how little is known about the population
of China. Not only are widely divergent estimates made in the same year
(_e.g._ 1760), but in other respects the figures are incredible. Mr.
Putnam Weale might contend that the drop from 60 millions in 1580 to 21
millions in 1662 was due to the wars leading to the Manchu conquest. But
no one can believe that between 1711 and 1736 the population increased
from 28 millions to 125 millions, or that it doubled between 1790 and
1792. No one knows whether the population of China is increasing or
diminishing, whether people in general have large or small families, or
any of the other facts that vital statistics are designed to elucidate.
What is said on these subjects, however dogmatic, is no more than
guess-work. Even the population of Peking is unknown. It is said to be
about 900,000, but it may be anywhere between 800,000 and a million. As
for the population of the Chinese Empire, it is probably safe to assume
that it is between three and four hundred millions, and somewhat likely
that it is below three hundred and fifty millions. Very little indeed
can be said with confidence as to the population of China in former
times; so little that, on the whole, authors who give statistics are to
be distrusted.
There are certain broad features of the traditional Chinese civilization
which give it its distinctive character. I should be inclined to select
as the most important: (1) The use of ideograms instead of an alphabet
in writing; (2) The substitution of the Confucian ethic for religion
among the educated classes; (3) government by literati chosen by
examination instead of by a hereditary aristocracy. The family system
distinguishes traditional China from modern Europe, but represents a
stage which most other civilizations have passed through, and which is
therefore not distinctively Chinese; the three characteristics which I
have enumerated, on the other hand, distinguish China from all other
countries of past times. Something must be said at this stage about each
of the three.
1. As everyone knows, the Chinese do not have letters, as we do, but
symbols for whole words. This has, of course, many inconveniences: it
means that, in learning to write, there are an immense number of
different signs to be learnt, not only 26 as with us; that there is no
such thing as alphabetical order, so that dictionaries, files,
catalogues, etc., are difficult to arrange and linotype is impossible;
that foreign words, such as proper names and scientific terms, cannot be
written down by sound, as in European languages, but have to be
represented by some elaborate device.[15] For these reasons, there is a
movement for phonetic writing among the more advanced Chinese reformers;
and I think the success of this movement is essential if China is to
take her place among the bustling hustling nations which consider that
they have a monopoly of all excellence. Even if there were no other
argument for the change, the difficulty of elementary education, where
reading and writing take so long to learn, would be alone sufficient to
decide any believer in democracy. For practical purposes, therefore, the
movement for phonetic writing deserves support.
There are, however, many considerations, less obvious to a European,
which can be adduced in favour of the ideographic system, to which
something of the solid stability of the Chinese civilization is probably
traceable. To us, it seems obvious that a written word must represent a
sound, whereas to the Chinese it represents an idea. We have adopted the
Chinese system ourselves as regards numerals; "1922," for example, can
be read in English, French, or any other language, with quite different
sounds, but with the same meaning. Similarly what is written in Chinese
characters can be read throughout China, in spite of the difference of
dialects which are mutually unintelligible when spoken. Even a Japanese,
without knowing a word of spoken Chinese, can read out Chinese script in
Japanese, just as he could read a row of numerals written by an
Englishman. And the Chinese can still read their classics, although the
spoken language must have changed as much as French has changed from
Latin.
The advantage of writing over speech is its greater permanence, which
enables it to be a means of communication between different places and
different times. But since the spoken language changes from place to
place and from time to time, the characteristic advantage of writing is
more fully attained by a script which does not aim at representing
spoken sounds than by one which does.
Speaking historically, there is nothing peculiar in the Chinese method
of writing, which represents a stage through which all writing probably
passed. Writing everywhere seems to have begun as pictures, not as a
symbolic representation of sounds. I understand that in Egyptian
hieroglyphics the course of development from ideograms to phonetic
writing can be studied. What is peculiar in China is the preservation of
the ideographic system throughout thousands of years of advanced
civilization--a preservation probably due, at least in part, to the fact
that the spoken language is monosyllabic, uninflected and full of
homonyms.
As to the way in which the Chinese system of writing has affected the
mentality of those who employ it, I find some suggestive reflections in
an article published in the _Chinese Students' Monthly_ (Baltimore),
for February 1922, by Mr. Chi Li, in an article on "Some Anthropological
Problems of China." He says (p. 327):--
Language has been traditionally treated by European scientists as
a collection of sounds instead of an expression of something
inner and deeper than the vocal apparatus as it should be. The
accumulative effect of language-symbols upon one's mental
formulation is still an unexploited field. Dividing the world
culture of the living races on this basis, one perceives a
fundamental difference of its types between the alphabetical
users and the hieroglyphic users, each of which has its own
virtues and vices. Now, with all respects to alphabetical
civilization, it must be frankly stated that it has a grave and
inherent defect in its lack of solidity. The most civilized
portion under the alphabetical culture is also inhabited by the
most fickled people. The history of the Western land repeats the
same story over and over again. Thus up and down with the Greeks;
up and down with Rome; up and down with the Arabs. The ancient
Semitic and Hametic peoples are essentially alphabetic users, and
their civilizations show the same lack of solidity as the Greeks
and the Romans. Certainly this phenomenon can be partially
explained by the extra-fluidity of the alphabetical language
which cannot be depended upon as a suitable organ to conserve any
solid idea. Intellectual contents of these people may be likened
to waterfalls and cataracts, rather than seas and oceans. No
other people is richer in ideas than they; but no people would
give up their valuable ideas as quickly as they do....
The Chinese language is by all means the counterpart of the
alphabetic stock. It lacks most of the virtues that are found in
the alphabetic language; but as an embodiment of simple and final
truth, it is invulnerable to storm and stress. It has already
protected the Chinese civilization for more than forty centuries.
It is solid, square, and beautiful, exactly as the spirit of it
represents. Whether it is the spirit that has produced this
language or whether this language has in turn accentuated the
spirit remains to be determined.
Without committing ourselves wholly to the theory here set forth, which
is impregnated with Chinese patriotism, we must nevertheless admit that
the Westerner is unaccustomed to the idea of "alphabetical civilization"
as merely one kind, to which he happens to belong. I am not competent to
judge as to the importance of the ideographic script in producing the
distinctive characteristics of Chinese civilization, but I have no doubt
that this importance is very great, and is more or less of the kind
indicated in the above quotation.
2. Confucius (B.C. 551-479) must be reckoned, as regards his social
influence, with the founders of religions. His effect on institutions
and on men's thoughts has been of the same kind of magnitude as that of
Buddha, Christ, or Mahomet, but curiously different in its nature.
Unlike Buddha and Christ, he is a completely historical character, about
whose life a great deal is known, and with whom legend and myth have
been less busy than with most men of his kind. What most distinguishes
him from other founders is that he inculcated a strict code of ethics,
which has been respected ever since, but associated it with very little
religious dogma, which gave place to complete theological scepticism in
the countless generations of Chinese literati who revered his memory and
administered the Empire.
Confucius himself belongs rather to the type of Lycurgus and Solon than
to that of the great founders of religions. He was a practical
statesman, concerned with the administration of the State; the virtues
he sought to inculcate were not those of personal holiness, or designed
to secure salvation in a future life, but rather those which lead to a
peaceful and prosperous community here on earth. His outlook was
essentially conservative, and aimed at preserving the virtues of former
ages. He accepted the existing religion--a rather unemphatic
monotheism, combined with belief that the spirits of the dead preserved
a shadowy existence, which it was the duty of their descendants to
render as comfortable as possible. He did not, however, lay any stress
upon supernatural matters. In answer to a question, he gave the
following definition of wisdom: "To cultivate earnestly our duty towards
our neighbour, and to reverence spiritual beings while maintaining
always a due reserve."[16] But reverence for spiritual beings was not an
_active_ part of Confucianism, except in the form of ancestor-worship,
which was part of filial piety, and thus merged in duty towards one's
neighbour. Filial piety included obedience to the Emperor, except when
he was so wicked as to forfeit his divine right--for the Chinese, unlike
the Japanese, have always held that resistance to the Emperor was
justified if he governed very badly. The following passage from
Professor Giles[17] illustrates this point:--
The Emperor has been uniformly regarded as the son of God by
adoption only, and liable to be displaced from that position as a
punishment for the offence of misrule.... If the ruler failed in
his duties, the obligation of the people was at an end, and his
divine right disappeared simultaneously. Of this we have an
example in a portion of the Canon to be examined by and by. Under
the year 558 B.C. we find the following narrative. One of the
feudal princes asked an official, saying, "Have not the people of
the Wei State done very wrong in expelling their ruler?" "Perhaps
the ruler himself," was the reply, "may have done very wrong....
If the life of the people is impoverished, and if the spirits
are deprived of their sacrifices, of what use is the ruler, and
what can the people do but get rid of him?"
This very sensible doctrine has been accepted at all times throughout
Chinese history, and has made rebellions only too frequent.
Filial piety, and the strength of the family generally, are perhaps the
weakest point in Confucian ethics, the only point where the system
departs seriously from common sense. Family feeling has militated
against public spirit, and the authority of the old has increased the
tyranny of ancient custom. In the present day, when China is confronted
with problems requiring a radically new outlook, these features of the
Confucian system have made it a barrier to necessary reconstruction, and
accordingly we find all those foreigners who wish to exploit China
praising the old tradition and deriding the efforts of Young China to
construct something more suited to modern needs. The way in which
Confucian emphasis on filial piety prevented the growth of public spirit
is illustrated by the following story:[18]
One of the feudal princes was boasting to Confucius of the high
level of morality which prevailed in his own State. "Among us
here," he said, "you will find upright men. If a father has
stolen a sheep, his son will give evidence against him." "In my
part of the country," replied Confucius, "there is a different
standard from this. A father will shield his son, a son will
shield his father. It is thus that uprightness will be found."
It is interesting to contrast this story with that of the elder Brutus
and his sons, upon which we in the West were all brought up.
Chao Ki, expounding the Confucian doctrine, says it is contrary to
filial piety to refuse a lucrative post by which to relieve the
indigence of one's aged parents.[19] This form of sin, however, is rare
in China as in other countries.
The worst failure of filial piety, however, is to remain without
children, since ancestors are supposed to suffer if they have no
descendants to keep up their cult. It is probable that this doctrine has
made the Chinese more prolific, in which case it has had great
biological importance. Filial piety is, of course, in no way peculiar to
China, but has been universal at a certain stage of culture. In this
respect, as in certain others, what is peculiar to China is the
preservation of the old custom after a very high level of civilization
had been attained. The early Greeks and Romans did not differ from the
Chinese in this respect, but as their civilization advanced the family
became less and less important. In China, this did not begin to happen
until our own day.
Whatever may be said against filial piety carried to excess, it is
certainly less harmful than its Western counterpart, patriotism. Both,
of course, err in inculcating duties to a certain portion of mankind to
the practical exclusion of the rest. But patriotism directs one's
loyalty to a fighting unit, which filial piety does not (except in a
very primitive society). Therefore patriotism leads much more easily to
militarism and imperialism. The principal method of advancing the
interests of one's nation is homicide; the principal method of advancing
the interest of one's family is corruption and intrigue. Therefore
family feeling is less harmful than patriotism. This view is borne out
by the history and present condition of China as compared to Europe.
Apart from filial piety, Confucianism was, in practice, mainly a code
of civilized behaviour, degenerating at times into an etiquette book. It
taught self-restraint, moderation, and above all courtesy. Its moral
code was not, like those of Buddhism and Christianity, so severe that
only a few saints could hope to live up to it, or so much concerned with
personal salvation as to be incompatible with political institutions. It
was not difficult for a man of the world to live up to the more
imperative parts of the Confucian teaching. But in order to do this he
must exercise at all times a certain kind of self-control--an extension
of the kind which children learn when they are taught to "behave." He
must not break into violent passions; he must not be arrogant; he must
"save face," and never inflict humiliations upon defeated adversaries;
he must be moderate in all things, never carried away by excessive love
or hate; in a word, he must keep calm reason always in control of all
his actions. This attitude existed in Europe in the eighteenth century,
but perished in the French Revolution: romanticism, Rousseau, and the
guillotine put an end to it. In China, though wars and revolutions have
occurred constantly, Confucian calm has survived them all, making them
less terrible for the participants, and making all who were not
immediately involved hold aloof. It is bad manners in China to attack
your adversary in wet weather. Wu-Pei-Fu, I am told, once did it, and
won a victory; the beaten general complained of the breach of etiquette;
so Wu-Pei-Fu went back to the position he held before the battle, and
fought all over again on a fine day. (It should be said that battles in
China are seldom bloody.) In such a country, militarism is not the
scourge it is with us; and the difference is due to the Confucian
ethics.[20]
Confucianism did not assume its present form until the twelfth century
A.D., when the personal God in whom Confucius had believed was thrust
aside by the philosopher Chu Fu Tze,[21] whose interpretation of
Confucianism has ever since been recognized as orthodox. Since the fall
of the Mongols (1370), the Government has uniformly favoured
Confucianism as the teaching of the State; before that, there were
struggles with Buddhism and Taoism, which were connected with magic, and
appealed to superstitious Emperors, quite a number of whom died of
drinking the Taoist elixir of life. The Mongol Emperors were Buddhists
of the Lama religion, which still prevails in Tibet and Mongolia; but
the Manchu Emperors, though also northern conquerors, were
ultra-orthodox Confucians. It has been customary in China, for many
centuries, for the literati to be pure Confucians, sceptical in religion
but not in morals, while the rest of the population believed and
practised all three religions simultaneously. The Chinese have not the
belief, which we owe to the Jews, that if one religion is true, all
others must be false. At the present day, however, there appears to be
very little in the way of religion in China, though the belief in magic
lingers on among the uneducated. At all times, even when there was
religion, its intensity was far less than in Europe. It is remarkable
that religious scepticism has not led, in China, to any corresponding
ethical scepticism, as it has done repeatedly in Europe.
3. I come now to the system of selecting officials by competitive
examination, without which it is hardly likely that so literary and
unsuperstitious a system as that of Confucius could have maintained its
hold. The view of the modern Chinese on this subject is set forth by the
present President of the Republic of China, Hsu Shi-chang, in his book
on _China after the War_, pp. 59-60.[22] After considering the
educational system under the Chou dynasty, he continues:
In later periods, in spite of minor changes, the importance of
moral virtues continued to be stressed upon. For instance, during
the most flourishing period of Tang Dynasty (627-650 A.D.), the
Imperial Academy of Learning, known as Kuo-tzu-chien, was
composed of four collegiate departments, in which ethics was
considered as the most important of all studies. It was said that
in the Academy there were more than three thousand students who
were able and virtuous in nearly all respects, while the total
enrolment, including aspirants from Korea and Japan, was as high
as eight thousand. At the same time, there was a system of
"elections" through which able and virtuous men were recommended
by different districts to the Emperor for appointment to public
offices. College training and local elections supplemented each
other, but in both moral virtues were given the greatest
emphasis.
Although the Imperial Academy exists till this day, it has never
been as nourishing as during that period. For this change the
introduction of the competitive examination or Ko-chü system,
must be held responsible. The "election" system furnished no
fixed standard for the recommendation of public service
candidates, and, as a result, tended to create an aristocratic
class from which alone were to be found eligible men.
Consequently, the Sung Emperors (960-1277 A.D.) abolished the
elections, set aside the Imperial Academy, and inaugurated the
competitive examination system in their place. The examinations
were to supply both scholars and practical statesmen, and they
were periodically held throughout the later dynasties until the
introduction of the modern educational regime. Useless and
stereotyped as they were in later days, they once served some
useful purpose. Besides, the ethical background of Chinese
education had already been so firmly established, that, in spite
of the emphasis laid by these examinations on pure literary
attainments, moral teachings have survived till this day in
family education and in private schools.
Although the system of awarding Government posts for proficiency in
examinations is much better than most other systems that have prevailed,
such as nepotism, bribery, threats of insurrection, etc., yet the
Chinese system, at any rate after it assumed its final form, was harmful
through the fact that it was based solely on the classics, that it was
purely literary, and that it allowed no scope whatever for originality.
The system was established in its final form by the Emperor Hung Wu
(1368-1398), and remained unchanged until 1905. One of the first objects
of modern Chinese reformers was to get it swept away. Li Ung Bing[23]
says:
In spite of the many good things that may be said to the credit
of Hung Wu, he will ever be remembered in connection with a form
of evil which has eaten into the very heart of the nation. This
was the system of triennial examinations, or rather the form of
Chinese composition, called the "Essay," or the "Eight Legs,"
which, for the first time in the history of Chinese literature,
was made the basis of all literary contests. It was so-named,
because after the introduction of the theme the writer was
required to treat it in four paragraphs, each consisting of two
members, made up of an equal number of sentences and words. The
theme was always chosen from either the Four Books, or the Five
Classics. The writer could not express any opinion of his own, or
any views at variance with those expressed by Chu Hsi and his
school. All he was required to do was to put the few words of
Confucius, or whomsoever it might be, into an essay in conformity
with the prescribed rules. Degrees, which were to serve as
passports to Government positions, were awarded the best writers.
To say that the training afforded by the time required to make a
man efficient in the art of such writing, would at the same time
qualify him to hold the various offices under the Government, was
absurd. But absurd as the whole system was, it was handed down to
recent times from the third year of the reign of Hung Wu, and was
not abolished until a few years ago. No system was more perfect
or effective in retarding the intellectual and literary
development of a nation. With her "Eight Legs," China long ago
reached the lowest point on her downhill journey. It is largely
on account of the long lease of life that was granted to this
rotten system that the teachings of the Sung philosophers have
been so long venerated.
These are the words of a Chinese patriot of the present day, and no
doubt, as a modern system, the "Eight Legs" deserve all the hard things
that he says about them. But in the fourteenth century, when one
considers the practicable alternatives, one can see that there was
probably much to be said for such a plan. At any rate, for good or evil,
the examination system profoundly affected the civilization of China.
Among its good effects were: A widely-diffused respect for learning; the
possibility of doing without a hereditary aristocracy; the selection of
administrators who must at least have been capable of industry; and the
preservation of Chinese civilization in spite of barbarian conquest.
But, like so much else in traditional China, it has had to be swept away
to meet modern needs. I hope nothing of greater value will have to
perish in the struggle to repel the foreign exploiters and the fierce
and cruel system which they miscall civilization.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Legge's _Shu-King,_ p. 15. Quoted in Hirth, _Ancient
History of China_, Columbia University Press, 1911--a book which gives
much useful critical information about early China.]
[Footnote 2: Hirth, op. cit. p. 174. 775 is often wrongly given.]
[Footnote 3: See Hirth, op. cit., p. 100 ff.]
[Footnote 4: On this subject, see Professor Giles's _Confucianism and
its Rivals,_ Williams & Norgate, 1915, Lecture I, especially p. 9.]
[Footnote 5: Cf. Henri Cordier, _Histoire Générale de la Chine_, Paris,
1920, vol. i. p. 213.]
[Footnote 6: _Outlines of Chinese History_ (Shanghai, Commercial Press,
1914), p. 61.]
[Footnote 7: See Hirth, _China and the Roman Orient_ (Leipzig and
Shanghai, 1885), an admirable and fascinating monograph. There are
allusions to the Chinese in Virgil and Horace; cf. Cordier, op. cit., i.
p. 271.]
[Footnote 8: Cordier, op. cit. i. p. 281.]
[Footnote 9: Cordier, op. cit. i. p. 237.]
[Footnote 10: Murdoch, in his _History of Japan_ (vol. i. p. 146), thus
describes the greatness of the early Tang Empire:
"In the following year (618) Li Yuen, Prince of T'ang, established the
illustrious dynasty of that name, which continued to sway the fortunes
of China for nearly three centuries (618-908). After a brilliant reign
of ten years he handed over the imperial dignity to his son, Tai-tsung
(627-650), perhaps the greatest monarch the Middle Kingdom has ever
seen. At this time China undoubtedly stood in the very forefront of
civilization. She was then the most powerful, the most enlightened, the
most progressive, and the best governed empire, not only in Asia, but on
the face of the globe. Tai-tsung's frontiers reached from the confines
of Persia, the Caspian Sea, and the Altai of the Kirghis steppe, along
these mountains to the north side of the Gobi desert eastward to the
inner Hing-an, while Sogdiana, Khorassan, and the regions around the
Hindu Rush also acknowledged his suzerainty. The sovereign of Nepal and
Magadha in India sent envoys; and in 643 envoys appeared from the
Byzantine Empire and the Court of Persia."]
[Footnote 11: Cordier, op. cit. ii. p. 212.]
[Footnote 12: Cordier, op. cit. ii. p. 339.]
[Footnote 13: Cordier, op. cit. i. p. 484.]
[Footnote 14: _The Truth About China and Japan_. George Allen & Unwin,
Ltd., pp. 13, 14.]
[Footnote 15: For example, the nearest approach that could be made in
Chinese to my own name was "Lo-Su." There is a word "Lo," and a word
"Su," for both of which there are characters; but no combination of
characters gives a better approximation to the sound of my name.]
[Footnote 16: Giles, op. cit., p. 74. Professor Giles adds, _à propos_
of the phrase "maintaining always a due reserve," the following
footnote: "Dr. Legge has 'to keep aloof from them,' which would be
equivalent to 'have nothing to do with them.' Confucius seems rather to
have meant 'no familiarity.'"]
[Footnote 17: Op. cit., p. 21.]
[Footnote 18: Giles, op. cit. p. 86.]
[Footnote 19: Cordier, op. cit. i. p. 167.]
[Footnote 20: As far as anti-militarism is concerned, Taoism is even
more emphatic. "The best soldiers," says Lao-Tze, "do not fight."
(Giles, op. cit. p. 150.) Chinese armies contain many good soldiers.]
[Footnote 21: Giles, op. cit., Lecture VIII. When Chu Fu Tze was dead,
and his son-in-law was watching beside his coffin, a singular incident
occurred. Although the sage had spent his life teaching that miracles
are impossible, the coffin rose and remained suspended three feet above
the ground. The pious son-in-law was horrified. "O my revered
father-in-law," he prayed, "do not destroy my faith that miracles are
impossible." Whereupon the coffin slowly descended to earth again, and
the son-in-law's faith revived.]
[Footnote 22: Translated by the Bureau of Economic Information, Peking,
1920.]
[Footnote 23: Op. cit. p. 233.]