CHINA AND HER PHILOSOPHERS.
The teachings of Lao-Tsze are not unlike those of Zeno;
both recommend retirement and contemplation as the most
effectual means of purifying the spiritual part of our nature,
annihilating the material passions and finally returning to the
bosom of the supreme Reason.
HON. S. WELLS WILLIAMS, LL. D.
[Illustration: CHINESE ORNAMENTS WITH WORDS OF CHEER.]
We now proceed to notice two of the three religions of China, Taoism
and Confucianism, leaving Buddhism until the chapter on Buddhism.
One-third of all the people of the world are gathered in China.
Considered in every way it is a gigantic empire. Its territory
stretches over about one-third of the continent of Asia and, next
to Russia, is the largest connected empire on the earth. Within its
borders occur some of the highest mountains and largest rivers in the
world. The pass over the Mei-ling in the north of Kwang-tung province,
is 8,000 feet above the sea. The Yellow River is over 2,000 miles long
and the Yangtse Kiang is nearly 4,000. China’s various climates allow
almost every kind of vegetable and plant to be cultivated. Minerals and
metals of all sorts abound, so that no country in the world contains
greater wealth. The Great Chinese Wall extends from twenty-two degrees
of longitude a little north of Peking, and is from fifteen to thirty
feet high, fifteen feet broad and over 1,500 miles long. This was
built more than 2,000 years ago. The history of China goes back to
2,000 years before Christ; it has had from those early days a sort
of civilization. Two thousand years ago it had canals and other works
of inland navigation. The Chinese have from very early times worn
silk. The art of engraving on wooden blocks for printing with movable
types was known 500 years before the days of Gutenberg. They have used
the compass, and gunpowder, and paper for many years. They have had
libraries of thousands of volumes from ancient times. Every village
has its school. The conceit of the Chinese of their position has
been fostered very greatly by their isolation and ignorance of other
nations. Their ruler is called the Son of Heaven and his dynasty the
heavenly dynasty, whence foreigners sometimes wrongly call the people
Celestials. China is called the Middle Kingdom and the Flowery Land.
They call foreigners I-Jin or barbarians, also Fank-wei or foreign
devils.
CHINESE CONTRARIETIES AND LANGUAGE.
They do many things almost in a way directly the contrary of that in
which we do it. Their customs and ideas are diametrically opposite to
ours. “We read horizontally, they perpendicularly; and the columns
run from right to left. We uncover the head as a mark of respect,
they put on their caps. We black our boots, they whiten them. We give
the place of honor on the right, they on the left. We say the needle
points to the north, they to the south. We shake the hand of a friend
in salutation, they shake their own. We locate the understanding in
the brain, they in the belly. We place our foot-notes at the bottom of
a page, they at the top. In our libraries we set our books up, they
lay theirs down. We now turn thousands of spindles and ply hundreds of
shuttles without a single hand to propel, they employ a hand for each.”
[Illustration: A CHINESE BOOK.]
But the most singular thing of all, perhaps, is the language. The
fundamental conception of the language is ideographic. It is entirely
monosyllabic, and has only characters, no alphabet or letters. In
one respect it is as colossal as the nation in the number of its
characters. Every character is the name of a thing. An immense number
of seemingly arbitrary signs is therefore to be mastered. The labor is
alleviated, however, by the fact that there are certain root forms,
variously estimated at from 315 to 4,000. Out of the characters 214
have been selected as keys or radicals, one or other of which is found
in every character of the language. The number of words contained in
the official dictionary is 43,500, and other authorities reckon as many
more. But the missionary Doolittle, affirms that a knowledge of 3,000
or 4,000 characters is sufficient for the reading of most books. The
most complicated characters in the language contain fifty-two strokes,
but such are very rare. The language is still further complicated in
its pronunciation by a system of tones, which vary according to the
meaning of the word. The language, like the people, is of the earth
earthy, for among its thousands of words rankly luxuriant there, there
was found to be no expression suitable to express one of the graces of
the spirit, and it was for half a century a matter of grave discussion
what should be the proper rendering of the word God.
THE THREE CHINESE RELIGIONS.
A Chinaman may at the same time be an adherent of all three of the
national religions. The mass of the Chinese people accept the three,
and see no inconsistency in so doing. It is somewhat as if we Americans
were at the same time Protestant, Romanist and skeptic. The Chinese
support the priests of all religions, worship in all their temples, and
believe in the gods of each and all. These three religions differ from
each other, however. Dr. Edkins has so well defined this difference
that we give his words:
“Confucianism speaks to the _moral_ nature. It discourses on
virtue and vice, and the duty of compliance with law and the dictates
of conscience. Its worship rests on this basis. The religious
veneration paid to ancestors--for that is the worship of this
system--is founded on the duty of filial piety. The moral sense of the
Chinese is offended if they are called on to resign this custom.
“Taoism is _materialistic_. Its notion of the soul is of something
physical, a purer form of matter. The soul it supposes to gain
immortality by a physical discipline, a sort of chemical process, which
transmutes it into a more ethereal essence, and prepares it for being
transferred to the regions of immortality. The gods of Taoism are also
very much what might be expected in a system which has such notions
as these of the soul. It looks upon the stars as divine. It deifies
hermits and physicians, magicians and seekers after the philosopher’s
stone and the plant of immortality.
“Buddhism is different from both. It is _metaphysical_. It appeals
to the imagination, and deals in subtle argument. It says that the
world of the senses is altogether unreal, and upholds this proposition
by the most elaborate proofs. Its gods are personified ideas. It
denies matter entirely, and concerns itself only with ideas. Most of
the personages adored by the Buddhists are known to be nothing but
fictitious impersonations of some of these ideas. The Buddhist worship
is not reverence paid to beings believed to be actually existing; it
is a homage rendered to ideas, and it is only supposed to be reflex in
its effects. Their worship is useful as a discipline, but not effectual
as prayer. The Buddhist, if he can obtain abstraction of mind from the
world in any other mode, need not pray or worship at all.
“These three systems, occupying the three corners of a triangle--the
moral, the metaphysical and the material--are supplemental to each
other, and are able to co-exist without being mutually destructive.
They rest each on a basis of its own, and address themselves each to
different parts of man’s nature. It was because Confucianism ‘knew
God, but did not honor Him as God,’ that the way was left open for a
polytheism like that of the Buddhists. In the old books of China, God
is spoken of as the Supreme Ruler. He is represented as exercising over
mankind an infinitely just and beneficent providence. But the duty of
prayer is not enjoined. No worship of God by the people is permitted.
It was only by the emperor acting vicariously for the people that the
Deity was adored in that country. The system of Confucius, wanting
this, was more a morality than a religion.
“Buddhism came to fill this vacancy. Individual faith in God, with a
rational mode of worship to accompany it, could not be a result of
the religious teaching which preceded it in China, nor were they
inculcated by it. In Buddhism, the Chinese found objects to adore of
mysterious grandeur, and richly endowed with the attributes of wisdom
and benevolence. The appeal thus made to their religious faith was
strengthened by a pompous form of worship. Processions and the ringing
of bells, fumes of sweet-smelling incense, prayers, chanting and
musical instruments were their aids to devotion. No wonder that these
additions should prove welcome to the religious susceptibilities of a
nation which had hitherto been restricted within the bounds of a system
almost exclusively moral, and which discouraged the worship of God by
the mass of the people.
“How Taoism meets certain other wants which the other two systems
fail to gratify, we will now show by an illustration: It was a cold
morning in January, when a missionary walked, on one occasion, to a
temple near the west gate of Shanghai. There is a medical divinity much
honored, who resides in this temple, to heal, as his worshipers think,
the ailments of those who pray to him. The Taoist priest in charge
addressed the foreign visitor with a somewhat unexpected exhortation:
‘You come to our country giving us good advice; now let me address a
little to you. Your religion does not meet the requirements of the
people. When they worship, they wish to know whether they can grow
rich, and recover from disease; but in the case of believing in Jesus,
there are no benefits of this kind to be looked for.’ He pointed to
the little image, representing some physician of a former dynasty,
sitting in its shrine in a dim light, just visible through the opening
of the curtains. ‘See,’ said he, ‘here is the god, ready to tell
the believing devotee what medicine he needs, and to guarantee its
healing effect. Look at the inscriptions fixed on the roof above and
on each side of the shrine. They describe his marvel-working power.’
He was asked who placed those tablets there. ‘They are,’ he replied,
‘the offerings of persons cured by this divinity.’ In the Central
Kingdom, the setting of the tablets in the temples by individuals is
customary, and they are intended to commemorate benefits received from
the divinities to whom they are dedicated. A visitor from a village
in the country, at a distance of some miles, now appeared, and went
through the usual ceremonies. He was asked, ‘Why do you not consult a
physician? This idol is dead wood. It cannot see or hear. Why apply
to it?’ The devotee answered with great simplicity, ‘I do not know
what my disease is; how, then, can I apply to a physician? It is on
this account that I ask the god. He will heal me. I have come a long
way on purpose. His fame is very widely spread.’ He was again asked,
‘Will you not go to the foreign free hospital?’ He answered, ‘It is
not the right time of day, and, besides, I like to come here; and why
should I not?’ He was asked again, ‘Do you know that this burning of
incense and seeking for oracular information at an idol’s shrine is
displeasing to God? It is as unwise, therefore, as it is unreasonable,
to apply to this god to tell you what medicine you should use.’ At
this point, the Taoist priest came to the defense of his system.
‘You believe in Jesus. We believe in our gods. Religions differ
according to place, and every country has its own divinities. We have
Kwan-kung, for example, the god of war, and other divinities, holding
the same place among us that Jesus does among you.’ He was asked,
‘How can these supposed gods benefit you? They are but the imaginary
representatives of men belonging to your nation, who long ago died.’
The Taoist asked in reply, ‘Is it not the same with Jesus? He also is
long since dead. What benefit do you expect from him?’ He was then
told, ‘We do not make an image of Him, place it in a shrine, and cast
lots before it, expecting to learn, by so doing, how a disease is to
be cured. The parallel is not accurate. The benefit we expect from
Him is that He will help us in becoming virtuous, and in attaining a
happy future life. The object of our religious books is to free us
from sin, and Jesus, who still lives in Heaven, is able to secure us
this.’ The reference to books led him to remark, ‘We have our books,
too, to exhort men to virtue.’ He took up a copy of a well-known work,
often distributed gratuitously in China. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is the
Kan-ying-peen (Book of Retribution); all that it contains is intended
to make men better. It promises long life to the good, and all kinds
of calamities to the wicked. Our object is the same as yours--to make
men good.’ He was reminded that, according to the doctrine of this
book, happiness and misery were the rewards of virtue and vice, and
that this did not agree with the system of divination on which his
temple depended for its support, and was asked why he encouraged those
who frequented it to expect good from the throwing of sticks on the
floor, and the shaking of lots together in a wooden cup, if good and
ill fortune were awarded to men by Heaven only according to character.
To this the priest of Tao replied, as he sat surrounded by his boxes of
medicines, arranged in pigeon-holes, with his recipe-book on the table
before him, from which he selected the appropriate nostrum under the
guidance of the oracle, ‘If the person who comes to worship is wicked
at heart, he will not be heard; the oracle will fail.’ ‘But,’ it was
remarked, ‘if he be only virtuous, he need not come here at all. The
great thing is to be good.’” Such are the tenets of Taoism.
THE OLD BOY.
Confucius became the prophet of the practical. About fifty years before
Confucius, was born one who became a deep thinker who looked with scorn
upon the work of Confucius. This was Lao-tsze, who was born 604 B.C.
According to the legends of the Taoists he had the appearance, when
born, of an old man with gray hair, and so they called him Lao-tsze,
which means _the old boy_. When he was born, so they say, he was
wise as men are when they become old. Other legends say that as soon as
he was born, he mounted into the air and pointing with his left hand to
heaven, and with his right to the earth, he said: “In heaven above and
on earth beneath, _Tao_ alone is worthy of honor.” His complexion
was white and yellow; his ears were of extraordinary size, and were
each pierced with three passages. He had handsome eyebrows, large eyes,
ragged teeth, a double-ridged nose and a square mouth; on each foot
he had ten toes. All of this was to distinguish him from common men.
He became a hermit-student. His chief disciple was named Yin-He. The
following story will serve to illustrate the miraculous powers ascribed
to Lao-tsze.
THE TALISMAN OF LONG LIFE.
The philosopher’s servant, Senkeă, who had served him for 200 years
without receiving any wages, finding that his master was going to take
a journey whither he knew not, suddenly demanded his arrears of pay,
which upon calculation were found to amount to 72,000 ounces of silver.
Fearing to face his master, he induced an acquaintance to ask Yin-He
to broach the subject to Lao-tsze. The acquaintance being ignorant
of the relation existing between the master and servant, and already
deeming in anticipation Senkeă to be a rich man, promised him his
daughter in marriage. The beauty of the girl added to the persistency
of the serving-man, whom Lao-tsze summoned to his presence. “I hired
you originally,” he said, “to perform the most humble duties; your
circumstances were poor and no one else would employ you. I have given
you the talisman of long life, and it is due to this alone that you
are now in existence. How have you so far forgotten the benefits I
have heaped upon you as to cover me with reproaches? I am now about
to set out for the Western Sea (the Caspian); I intend to visit
the kingdoms of Ya T’sin (the Roman Empire), of Ke-pin (Cabal), of
Tien-chuh (India), and of Gan-se (Parthia); and I order you to act as
my charioteer thitherwards. On my return, I will pay you that which I
owe you.”
But Senkeă still refused to obey. Whereupon Lao-tsze ordered him to
lean forward and open his mouth, and instantly there escaped from his
lips the talisman, and at the same moment his body became a heap of
dry bones. At the earnest prayer of Yin-He the servant was restored
to life, and was dismissed with a present of 20,000 ounces of silver.
Having nothing further to detain him, Lao-tsze bade farewell to the
keeper of the pass, and mounting upon a cloud, disappeared into space.
Some Taoist writers claim Lao-tsze as the author of 930 of the current
works on the superstitious varieties of modern Taoism, and add
complacently that all other books are unworthy of the same regard,
having been secretly added by the followers of Tao in later ages.
THE VISIT OF CONFUCIUS TO LAO-TSZE.
Confucius once held an interview with Lao-tsze. From this he returned
to his disciples, and for three days he did not utter a word.
According to his own account, Lao-tsze exercised a complete fascination
over him. He felt, when conversing with the older philosopher, that
he was in the presence of a master mind, and the merciless criticism
of which his doctrines were the object, shook his faith somewhat in
their truth. “At his voice,” said he, “my mouth gaped wide, my tongue
protruded, and my soul was plunged in trouble.”
To Yang-tsze, a disciple of Confucius, Lao-tsze spoke in the same
strain. “The spots of the tiger, and of the leopard, and the agility of
the monkey, are that which exposes them to the arrows of the hunter.”
And in reply to a question concerning the administration of the
illustrious kings of antiquity, he said, “Such was the administration
of the illustrious kings, that their merits overspread the empire
unknown to themselves; the influence of their example extended to all
beings; they effected the happiness of the people without letting them
feel their presence. Their virtue was so sublime that human speech is
unable to express it; they lived in an impenetrable retreat, and were
absorbed in Tao.”
THE VOYAGE IN SEARCH OF THE TALISMAN OF LONG LIFE.
The talisman of long life was said to have been lost after Lao-tsze’s
death. But Che Hwang-te determined to find it. He was persuaded into
believing that in the ocean to the east of China there were “Golden
Islands of the Blest,” where genii dwelt, whose business and delight
it was to dispense to all visitors to their shores a draught of
immortality, compounded of the fragrant herbs which grew in abundance
round them; that here also was the talisman of long life kept. So
sincere was Che Hwang-te’s faith that he fitted out a naval expedition
to discover these much-to-be-desired regions, and placed a Taoist
magician at the head of the undertaking. On the plea that it had been
revealed to him that the expedition was likely to meet with a more
favorable reception at the Golden Isles if a company of youths and
maidens accompanied it, Sen She, the leader, persuaded the Emperor to
send several thousands of girls and young men with him. On the return
of the voyagers they reported that they had sailed within sight of
the islands, but had been driven back by contrary winds. The Emperor
determined to try again. This second expedition failed. But private
individuals declared that they had succeeded in reaching the islands,
in seeing the genii, in securing the draughts of the elixir of life,
and that they had seen the Talisman. Che Hwang-te’s failures would not
let him see the imposture that was being played upon him. Again and
again he sent, and great sums were expended, and finally an emptied
treasury forced him to relinquish his project.