The Chinese Classics Part 6

additional impost which he wished to lay upon the people, but Confucius refused to give any reply, telling the disciple privately his disapproval of the proposed measure. It was carried out, however, in the following year, by the agency of Yen, on which occasion, I suppose, it was that Confucius said to the other disciples, 'He is no disciple of mine; my little children, beat the drum and a.s.sail him [1].' The year B.C. 483 was marked by the death of his son Li, which he seems to have borne with more equanimity than he did that of his disciple Yen Hui, which some writers a.s.sign to the following year, though I have already mentioned it under the year B.C. 489.

In the spring of B.C. 481, a servant of Chi K'ang caught a Ch'i-lin on a hunting excursion of the duke in the present district of Chia-hsiang [2]. No person could tell what strange animal it was, and Confucius was called to look at it. He at once knew it to be a lin, and the legend-writers say that it bore on one of its horns the piece of ribbon, which his mother had attached to the one that appeared to her before his birth. According to the chronicle of Kung-yang, he was profoundly affected. He cried out, 'For whom have you come? For whom have you come?' His tears flowed freely, and he added, 'The course of my doctrines is run [3].'

Notwithstanding the appearance of the lin, the life of Confucius was still protracted for two years longer, though he took occasion to terminate with that event his history of the Ch'un Ch'iu. This Work, according to Sze-ma Ch'ien, was altogether the production of this year, but we heed not suppose that it was so. In it, from the standpoint of Lu, he briefly indicates the princ.i.p.al events occurring throughout the country, every term being expressive, it is said, of the true character of the actors and events described. Confucius said himself, 'It is the Spring and Autumn which will make men know me, and it is the Spring and Autumn which will make men condemn me [4].' Mencius makes the composition of it to have been an achievement as great as Yu's regulation of the waters of the deluge:-- 'Confucius completed the Spring and Autumn, and rebellious ministers and villainous sons were struck with terror [5].'

Towards the end of this year, word came to Lu that the duke 1 Ana. XI. xvi.

2 ??????.

3 ???, ?????. According to Kung-yang, however, the lin was found by some wood-gatherers.

4 Mencius III. Pt. II. ix. 8.

5 Mencius III. Pt. II. ix. 11.

of Ch'i had been murdered by one of his officers. Confucius was moved with indignation. Such an outrage he felt, called for his solemn interference. He bathed, went to court, and represented the matter to the duke, saying, 'Ch'an Hang has slain his sovereign, I beg that you will undertake to punish him.' The duke pleaded his incapacity, urging that Lu was weak compared with Ch'i, but Confucius replied, 'One half the people of Ch'i are not consenting to the deed. If you add to the people of Lu one half the people of Ch'i, you are sure to overcome.' But he could not infuse his spirit into the duke, who told him to go and lay the matter before the chiefs of the three Families. Sorely against his sense of propriety, he did so, but they would not act, and he withdrew with the remark, 'Following in the rear of the great officers, I did not dare not to represent such a matter [1].'

In the year B.C. 479, Confucius had to mourn the death of another of his disciples, one of those who had been longest with him, the well-known Tsze-lu. He stands out a sort of Peter in the Confucian school, a man of impulse, prompt to speak and prompt to act. He gets many a check from the master, but there is evidently a strong sympathy between them. Tsze- lu uses a freedom with him on which none of the other disciples dares to venture, and there is not one among them all, for whom, if I may speak from my own feeling, the foreign student comes to form such a liking. A pleasant picture is presented to us in one pa.s.sage of the a.n.a.lects. It is said, 'The disciple Min was standing by his side, looking bland and precise; Tsze-lu (named Yu), looking bold and soldierly; Yen Yu and Tsze-kung, with a free and straightforward manner. The master was pleased, but he observed, "Yu there!-- he will not die a natural death [2]."'

This prediction was verified. When Confucius returned to Lu from Wei, he left Tsze-lu and Tsze-kao [3] engaged there in official service. Troubles arose. News came to Lu, B.C. 479, that a revolution was in progress in Wei, and when Confucius heard it, he said, 'Ch'ai will come here, but Yu will die [4].' So it turned out. When Tsze-kao saw that matters were desperate he made his escape, but Tsze-lu would not forsake the chief who had treated 1 See the ??, ????? and a.n.a.lects XIV. xxii.

2 Ana. XI. xii.

3 ??, by surname Kao (?), and name Ch'ai (?).

4 See the ??, ?????.

him well. He threw himself into the melee, and was slain. Confucius wept sore for him, but his own death was not far off. It took place on the eleventh day of the fourth month in the same year, B.C. 479 [1]. Early one morning, we are told, he got up, and with his hands behind his back, dragging his staff, he moved about by his door, crooning over,-- 'The great mountain must crumble; The strong beam must break; And the wise man wither away like a plant.'

After a little, he entered the house and sat down opposite the door. Tsze-kung had heard his words, and said to himself, 'If the great mountain crumble, to what shall I look up? If the strong beam break, and the wise man wither away, on whom shall I lean? The master, I fear, is going to be ill.' With this he hastened into the house. Confucius said to him, 'Ts'ze, what makes you so late? According to the statutes of Hsia, the corpse was dressed and coffined at the top of the eastern steps, treating the dead as if he were still the host. Under the Yin, the ceremony was performed between the two pillars, as if the dead were both host and guest. The rule of Chau is to perform it at the top of the western steps, treating the dead as if he were a guest. I am a man of Yin, and last night I dreamt that I was sitting with offerings before me between the two pillars. No intelligent monarch arises; there is not one in the kingdom that will make me his master. My time has come to die.' So it was. He went to his couch, and after seven days expired [2].

Such is the account which we have of the last hours of the great philosopher of China. His end was not unimpressive, but it was melancholy. He sank behind a cloud. Disappointed hopes made his soul bitter. The great ones of the kingdom had not received his teachings. No wife nor child was by to do the kindly offices of affection for him. Nor were the expectations of another life present with him as he pa.s.sed through the dark valley. He uttered no prayer, and he betrayed no apprehensions. Deep-treasured in his own heart may have been the thought that he had endeavoured to serve his generation by the will of G.o.d, but he gave no sign. 'The mountain falling came to nought, and the rock was removed 1 See the ??, ?????, and Chiang Yung's Life of Confucius, in loc.

2 See the Li Chi, II, Sect. I. ii. 20.

out of his place. So death prevailed against him and he pa.s.sed; his countenance was changed, and he was sent away.'

10. I flatter myself that the preceding paragraphs contain a more correct narrative of the princ.i.p.al incidents in the life of Confucius than has yet been given in any European language. They might easily have been expanded into a volume, but I did not wish to exhaust the subject, but only to furnish a sketch, which, while it might satisfy the general reader, would be of special a.s.sistance to the careful student of the cla.s.sical Books. I had taken many notes of the manifest errors in regard to chronology and other matters in the 'Narratives of the School,' and the chapter of Sze-ma Ch'ien on the K'ung family, when the digest of Chiang Yung, to which I have made frequent reference, attracted my attention. Conclusions to which I had come were confirmed, and a clue was furnished to difficulties which I was seeking to disentangle. I take the opportunity to acknowledge here my obligations to it. With a few notices of Confucius's habits and manners, I shall conclude this section.

Very little can be gathered from reliable sources on the personal appearance of the sage. The height of his father is stated, as I have noted, to have been ten feet, and though Confucius came short of this by four inches, he was often called 'the tall man.' It is allowed that the ancient foot or cubit was shorter than the modem, but it must be reduced more than any scholar I have consulted has yet done, to bring this statement within the range of credibility. The legends a.s.sign to his figure 'nine-and-forty remarkable peculiarities [1],' a tenth part of which would have made him more a monster than a man. Dr. Morrison says that the images of him which he had seen in the northern parts of China, represent him as of a dark, swarthy colour [2]. It is not so with those common in the south. He was, no doubt, in size and complexion much the same as many of his descendants in the present day. Dr. Edkins and myself enjoyed the services of two of those descendants, who acted as 'wheelers' in the wheelbarrows which conveyed us from Ch'u-fau to a town on the Grand Ca.n.a.l more than 250 miles off. They were strong, capable men, both physically and mentally superior to their companions.

1 ????.

2 Chinese and English Dictionary, char. ?. Sir John Davis also mentions seeing a figure of Confucius, in a temple near the Po-yang lake, of which the complexion was 'quite black' (The Chinese, vol. ii. p. 66).

But if his disciples had nothing to chronicle of his personal appearance, they have gone very minutely into an account of many of his habits. The tenth Book of the a.n.a.lects is all occupied with his deportment, his eating, and his dress. In public, whether in the village, the temple, or the court, he was the man of rule and ceremony, but 'at home he was not formal.' Yet if not formal, he was particular. In bed even he did not forget himself;-- 'he did not lie like a corpse,' and 'he did not speak.' 'He required his sleeping dress to be half as long again as his body.' 'If he happened to be sick, and the prince came to visit him, he had his face set to the east, made his court robes be put over him, and drew his girdle across them.'

He was nice in his diet,-- 'not disliking to have his rice dressed fine, nor to have his minced meat cut small.' 'Anything at all gone he would not touch.' 'He must have his meat cut properly, and to every kind its proper sauce; but he was not a great eater.' 'It was only in drink that he laid down no limit to himself, but he did not allow himself to be confused by it.' 'When the villagers were drinking together, on those who carried staffs going out, he went out immediately after.' There must always be ginger at the table, and 'when eating, he did not converse.' 'Although his food might be coa.r.s.e rice and poor soup, he would offer a little of it in sacrifice, with a grave, respectful air.'

'On occasion of a sudden clap of thunder, or a violent wind, he would change countenance. He would do the same, and rise up moreover, when he found himself a guest at a loaded board.' 'At the sight of a person in mourning, he would also change countenance, and if he happened to be in his carriage, he would bend forward with a respectful salutation.' 'His general way in his carriage was not to turn his head round, nor talk hastily, nor point with his hands.' He was charitable. 'When any of his friends died, if there were no relations who could be depended on for the necessary offices, he would say, "I will bury him."

'The disciples were so careful to record these and other characteristics of their master, it is said, because every act, of movement or of rest, was closely a.s.sociated with the great principles which it was his object to inculcate. The detail of so many small matters, however, hardly impresses a foreigner so favourably. There rather seems to be a want of freedom about the philosopher.

SECTION II.

HIS INFLUENCE AND OPINIONS.

1. Confucius died, we have seen, complaining that of all the princes of the kingdom there was not one who would adopt his [Sidebar] Homage rendered to Confucius by the sovereigns of China.

principles and obey his lessons. He had hardly pa.s.sed from the stage of life, when his merit began to be acknowledged. When the duke Ai heard of his death, he p.r.o.nounced his eulogy in the words, 'Heaven has not left to me the aged man. There is none now to a.s.sist me on the throne. Woe is me! Alas! O venerable Ni [1]!' Tsze-kung complained of the inconsistency of this lamentation from one who could not use the master when he was alive, but the prince was probably sincere in his grief. He caused a temple to be erected, and ordered that sacrifice should be offered to the sage, at the four seasons of the year [2].

The sovereigns of the tottering dynasty of Chau had not the intelligence, nor were they in a position, to do honour to the departed philosopher, but the facts detailed in the first chapter of these prolegomena, in connexion with the attempt of the founder of the Ch'in dynasty to destroy the literary monuments of antiquity, show how the authority of Confucius had come by that time to prevail through the nation. The founder of the Han dynasty, in pa.s.sing through Lu, B.C. 195, visited his tomb and offered the three victims in sacrifice to him. Other sovereigns since then have often made pilgrimages to the spot. The most famous temple in the empire now rises near the place of the grave. The second and greatest of the rulers of the present dynasty, in the twenty-third year of his reign, the K'ang-hsi period, there set the example of kneeling thrice, and each time laying his forehead thrice in the dust, before the image of the sage.

In the year of our Lord 1, began the practice of conferring honourary designations on Confucius by imperial authority. The emperor Ping [3] then styled him-- 'The duke Ni, all-complete and l Li Chi, II. Sect. I. iii. 43. This eulogy is found at greater length in the ??, immediately after the notice of the sage's death.

2 See the ??????, ??, art. on Confucius. I am indebted to this for most of the notices in this paragraph.

3 ??.

ill.u.s.trious [1].' This was changed, in A.D. 492, to-- 'The venerable Ni, the accomplished Sage [2].' Other t.i.tles have supplanted this. Shun-chih [3], the first of the Man-chau dynasty, adopted, in his second year, A.D. 1645, the style, 'K'ung, the ancient Teacher, accomplished and ill.u.s.trious, all- complete, the perfect Sage [4];' but twelve years later, a shorter t.i.tle was introduced,-- 'K'ung, the ancient Teacher, the perfect Sage [5].' Since that year no further alteration has been made.

At first, the wors.h.i.+p of Confucius was confined to the country of Lu, but in A.D. 57 it was enacted that sacrifices should be offered to him in the imperial college, and in all the colleges of the princ.i.p.al territorial divisions throughout the empire. In those sacrifices he was for some centuries a.s.sociated with the duke of Chau, the legislator to whom Confucius made frequent reference, but in A.D. 609 separate temples were a.s.signed to them, and in 628 our sage displaced the older worthy altogether. About the same time began the custom, which continues to the present day, of erecting temples to him,-- separate structures, in connexion with all the colleges, or examination-halls, of the country.

The sage is not alone in those temples. In a hall behind the princ.i.p.al one occupied by himself are the tablets -- in some cases, the images -- of several of his ancestors, and other worthies; while a.s.sociated with himself are his princ.i.p.al disciples, and many who in subsequent times have signalized themselves as expounders and exemplifiers of his doctrines. On the first day of every month, offerings of fruits and vegetables are set forth, and on the fifteenth there is a solemn burning of incense. But twice a year, in the middle months of spring and autumn, when the first ting day [6] of the month comes round, the wors.h.i.+p of Confucius is performed with peculiar solemnity. At the imperial college the emperor himself is required to attend in state, and is in fact the princ.i.p.al performer. After all the preliminary arrangements have been made, and the emperor has twice knelt and six times bowed his head to the earth, the presence of Confucius's spirit is invoked in the words, 'Great art thou, O perfect sage! Thy virtue is full; thy doctrine is complete. Among mortal men there has not been thine equal. All kings honour thee. Thy statutes and laws have come gloriously 1 ????.

2 ????.

3 ??.

4 ????, ????, ??

5 ??????

6 ???

down. Thou art the pattern in this imperial school. Reverently have the sacrificial vessels been set out. Full of awe, we sound our drums and bells [1].'

The spirit is supposed now to be present, and the service proceeds through various offerings, when the first of which has been set forth, an officer reads the following [2], which is the prayer on the occasion:-- 'On this ... month of this ... year, I, A.B., the emperor, offer a sacrifice to the philosopher K'ung, the ancient Teacher, the perfect Sage, and say,-- O Teacher, in virtue equal to Heaven and Earth, whose doctrines embrace the past time and the present, thou didst digest and transmit the six cla.s.sics, and didst hand down lessons for all generations! Now in this second month of spring (or autumn), in reverent observance of the old statutes, with victims, silks, spirits, and fruits, I carefully offer sacrifice to thee. With thee are a.s.sociated the philosopher Yen, Continuator of thee; the philosopher Tsang, Exhibiter of thy fundamental principles; the philosopher Tsze-sze, Transmitter of thee; and the philosopher Mang, Second to thee. May'st thou enjoy the offerings!'

I need not go on to enlarge on the homage which the emperors of China render to Confucius. It could not be more complete. He was unreasonably neglected when alive. He is now unreasonably venerated when dead.

2. The rulers of China are not singular in this matter, but in entire sympathy with the ma.s.s of their people. It is the distinction [Sidebar] General appreciation of Confucius.

of this empire that education has been highly prized in it from the earliest times. It was so before the era of Confucius, and we may be sure that the system met with his approbation. One of his remarkable sayings was,-- 'To lead an uninstructed people to war is to throw them away [3].' When he p.r.o.nounced this judgment, he was not thinking of military training, but of education in the duties of life and citizens.h.i.+p. A people so taught, he thought, would be morally fitted to fight for their government. Mencius, when lecturing to the ruler of T'ang on the proper way of governing a kingdom, told him that he must provide the means of education for all, the poor as well as the rich. 'Establish,' said he, 'hsiang, hsu, hsio, and hsiao,-- all those educational inst.i.tutions,-- for the instruction of the people [4].'

1 2 See the ???????.

3 Ana. XIII. x.x.x.

4 Mencius III. Pt. I. iii. 10.

At the present day, education is widely diffused throughout China. In few other countries is the schoolmaster more abroad, and in all schools it is Confucius who is taught. The plan of compet.i.tive examinations, and the selection for civil offices only from those who have been successful candidates,-- good so far as the compet.i.tion is concerned, but injurious from the restricted range of subjects with which an acquaintance is required,-- have obtained for more than twelve centuries. The cla.s.sical works are the text books. It is from them almost exclusively that the themes proposed to determine the knowledge and ability of the students are chosen. The whole of the magistracy of China is thus versed in all that is recorded of the sage, and in the ancient literature which he preserved. His thoughts are familiar to every man in authority, and his character is more or less reproduced in him.

The official civilians of China, numerous as they are, are but a fraction of its students, and the students, or those who make literature a profession, are again but a fraction of those who attend school for a shorter or longer period. Yet so far as the studies have gone, they have been occupied with the Confucian writings. In the schoolrooms there is a tablet or inscription on the wall, sacred to the sage, and every pupil is required, on coming to school on the morning of the first and fifteenth of every month, to bow before it, the first thing, as an act of reverence [1]. Thus all in China who receive the slightest tincture of learning do so at the fountain of Confucius. They learn of him and do homage to him at once. I have repeatedly quoted the statement that during his life-time he had three thousand disciples. Hundreds of millions are his disciples now. It is hardly necessary to make any allowance in this statement for the followers of Taoism and Buddhism, for, as Sir John Davis has observed, 'whatever the other opinions or faith of a Chinese may be, he takes good care to treat Confucius with respect [2].' For two thousand years he has reigned supreme, the undisputed teacher of this most populous land.

3. This position and influence of Confucius are to be ascribed, I conceive, chiefly to two causes:-- his being the preserver, namely of l During the present dynasty, the tablet of ????, the G.o.d of literature, has to a considerable extent displaced that of Confucius in schools. Yet the wors.h.i.+p of him does not clash with that of the other. He is 'the father' of composition only.

2 The Chinese, vol. ii. p. 45.

the monuments of antiquity, and the exemplifier and expounder of [Sidebar] The causes of his influence.

the maxims of the golden age of China; and the devotion to him of his immediate disciples and their early followers. The national and the personal are thus blended in him, each in its highest degree of excellence. He was a Chinese of the Chinese; he is also represented as, and all now believe him to have been, the beau ideal of humanity in its best and n.o.blest estate.

4. It may be well to bring forward here Confucius's own estimate of himself and of his doctrines. It will serve to ill.u.s.trate the [Sidebar] His own estimate of himself and of his doctrines.

statements just made. The following are some of his sayings:-- 'The sage and the man of perfect virtue;-- how dare I rank myself with them? It may simply be said of me, that I strive to become such without satiety, and teach others without weariness.' 'In letters I am perhaps equal to other men; but the character of the superior man, carrying out in his conduct what he professes, is what I have not yet attained to.' 'The leaving virtue without proper cultivation; the not thoroughly discussing what is learned; not being able to move towards righteousness of which a knowledge is gained; and not being able to change what is not good;-- these are the things which occasion me solicitude.' 'I am not one who was born in the possession of knowledge; I am one who is fond of antiquity and earnest in seeking it there.' 'A transmitter and not a maker, believing in and loving the ancients, I venture to compare myself with our old P'ang [1].'

Confucius cannot be thought to speak of himself in these declarations more highly than he ought to do. Rather we may recognise in them the expressions of a genuine humility. He was conscious that personally he came short in many things, but he toiled after the character, which he saw, or fancied that he saw, in the ancient sages whom he acknowledged; and the lessons of government and morals which he labored to diffuse were those which had already been inculcated and exhibited by them. Emphatically he was 'a transmitter and not a maker.' It is not to be understood that he was not fully satisfied of the truth of the principles which he had learned. He held them with the full approval and consent of his own understanding. He believed that if they were acted on, they would remedy the evils of his time.

1 All these pa.s.sages are taken from the seventh Book of the a.n.a.lects. See chapters x.x.xiii, x.x.xii, iii, xix, and i.

There was nothing to prevent rulers like Yao and Shun and the great Yu from again arising, and a condition of happy tranquillity being realized throughout the kingdom under their sway.

If in anything he thought himself 'superior and alone,' having attributes which others could not claim, it was in his possessing a divine commission as the conservator of ancient truth and rules. He does not speak very definitely on this point. It is noted that 'the appointments of Heaven was one of the subjects on which he rarely touched [1].' His most remarkable utterance was that which I have already given in the sketch of his Life:-- 'When he was put in fear in K'w.a.n.g, he said, "After the death of king Wan, was not the cause of truth lodged here in me? If Heaven had wished to let this cause of truth perish, then I, a future mortal, should not have got such a relation to that cause. While Heaven does not let the cause of truth perish, what can the people of K'w.a.n.g do to me [2]?"' Confucius, then, did feel that he was in the world for a special purpose. But it was not to announce any new truths, or to initiate any new economy. It was to prevent what had previously been known from being lost. He followed in the wake of Yao and Shun, of T'ang, and king Wan. Distant from the last by a long interval of time, he would have said that he was distant from him also by a great inferiority of character, but still he had learned the principles on which they all happily governed the country, and in their name he would lift up a standard against the prevailing lawlessness of his age.

5. The language employed with reference to Confucius by his disciples and their early followers presents a striking contrast with his own.

[Sidebar] Estimate of him by his disciples and their early followers.

I have already, in writing of the scope and value of 'The Doctrine of the Mean,' called attention to the extravagant eulogies of his grandson Tsze- sze. He only followed the example which had been set by those among whom the philosopher went in and out. We have the language of Yen Yuan, his favourite, which is comparatively moderate, and simply expresses the genuine admiration of a devoted pupil [3]. Tsze-kung on several occasions spoke in a different style. Having heard that one of the chiefs of Lu had said that he himself -- Tsze-kung -- was superior to Confucius, he observed, 'Let me use the comparison of a house and its encompa.s.sing wall. My wall 1 Ana. IX. i.

2 Ana. IX. iii.

3 Ana. IX. x.

only reaches to the shoulders. One may peep over it, and see whatever is valuable in the apartments. The wall of my master is several fathoms high. If one do not find the door and enter by it, he cannot see the rich ancestral temple with its beauties, nor all the officers in their rich array. But I may a.s.sume that they are few who find the door. The remark of the chief was only what might have been expected [1]'

Another time, the same individual having spoken revilingly of Confucius, Tsze-kung said, 'It is of no use doing so. Chung-ni cannot be reviled. The talents and virtue of other men are hillocks and mounds which may be stepped over. Chung-ni is the sun or moon, which it is not possible to step over. Although a man may wish to cut himself off from the sage, what harm can he do to the sun and moon? He only shows that he does not know his own capacity [2].'

In conversation with a fellow-disciple, Tsze-kung took a still higher flight. Being charged by Tsze-ch'in with being too modest, for that Confucius was not really superior to him, he replied, 'For one word a man is often deemed to be wise, and for one word he is often deemed to be foolish. We ought to be careful indeed in what we say. Our master cannot be attained to, just in the same way as the heavens cannot be gone up to by the steps of a stair. Were our master in the position of the prince of a State, or the chief of a Family, we should find verified the description which has been given of a sage's rule:-- He would plant the people, and forthwith they would be established; he would lead them on, and forthwith they would follow him; he would make them happy, and forthwith mult.i.tudes would resort to his dominions; he would stimulate them, and forthwith they would be harmonious. While he lived, he would be glorious. When he died, he would be bitterly lamented. How is it possible for him to be attained to [3]?'

From these representations of Tsze-kung, it was not a difficult step for Tsze-sze to take in exalting Confucius not only to the level of the ancient sages, but as 'the equal of Heaven.' And Mencius took up the theme. Being questioned by Kung-sun Ch'au, one of his disciples, about two acknowledged sages, Po-i and I Yin, whether they were to be placed in the same rank with Confucius, he replied, 'No. Since there were living men until now, there never was another Confucius;' and then he proceeded to fortify his 1 Ana. XIX. xxiii.

2 Ana. XIX. xxiv.

3 Ana. XIX. xxv.

opinion by the concurring testimony of Tsai Wo, Tsze-kung, and Yu Zo, who all had wisdom, he thought, sufficient to know their master. Tsai Wo's opinion was, 'According to my view of our master, he is far superior to Yao and Shun.' Tsze-kung said, 'By viewing the ceremonial ordinances of a prince, we know the character of his government. By hearing his music, we know the character of his virtue. From the distance of a hundred ages after, I can arrange, according to their merits, the kings of those hundred ages;-- not one of them can escape me. From the birth of mankind till now, there has never been another like our master.' Yu Zo said, 'Is it only among men that it is so? There is the ch'i-lin among quadrupeds; the fung-hw.a.n.g among birds; the T'ai mountain among mounds and ant-hills; and rivers and seas among rainpools. Though different in degree, they are the same in kind. So the sages among mankind are also the same in kind. But they stand out from their fellows, and rise above the level; and from the birth of mankind till now, there never has been one so complete as Confucius [1].' I will not indulge in farther ill.u.s.tration. The judgment of the sage's disciples, of Tsze-sze, and of Mencius, has been unchallenged by the ma.s.s of the scholars of China. Doubtless it pleases them to bow down at the shrine of the Sage, for their profession of literature is thereby glorified. A reflection of the honour done to him falls upon themselves. And the powers that be, and the mult.i.tudes of the people, fall in with the judgment. Confucius is thus, in the empire of China, the one man by whom all possible personal excellence was exemplified, and by whom all possible lessons of social virtue and political wisdom are taught.

6. The reader will be prepared by the preceding account not to expect to find any light thrown by Confucius on the great problems of the human condition and destiny. He did not speculate on the creation of things or the end of them. He was not troubled to account for the origin of man, nor did he seek to know about his hereafter. He meddled neither with physics nor metaphysics [2].

[Sidebar] Subjects on which Confucius did not treat.-- That he was unreligious, unspiritual, and open to the charge of insincerity.

The testimony of the a.n.a.lects about the subjects of his teaching is the following:-- 'His frequent themes of discourse were the Book 1 Mencius, II. Pt. I. ii. 23-28.

2 'The contents of the Yi-ching, and Confucius's labors upon it, may be objected in opposition to this statement, and I must be understood to make it with come reservation. Six years ago, I spent all my leisure time for twelve months in the study of that Work, and wrote out a translation of it, but at the close I was only groping my way in darkness to lay hold of [footnote continued next page].

of Poetry, the Book of History, and the maintenance of the rules of Propriety.' 'He taught letters, ethics, devotion of soul, and truthfulness.' 'Extraordinary things; feats of strength; states of disorder; and spiritual beings, he did not like to talk about [1].'

Confucius is not to be blamed for his silence on the subjects here indicated. His ignorance of them was to a great extent his misfortune. He had not learned them. No report of them had come to him by the ear; no vision of them by the eye. And to his practical mind the toiling of thought amid uncertainties seemed worse than useless.

The question has, indeed, been raised, whether he did not make changes in the ancient creed of China [2], but I cannot believe that he did so consciously and designedly. Had his idiosyncrasy been different, we might have had expositions of the ancient views on some points, the effect of which would have been more beneficial than the indefiniteness in which they are now left, and it may be doubted so far, whether Confucius was not unfaithful to his guides. But that he suppressed or added, in order to bring in articles of belief originating with himself, is a thing not to be charged against him.

I will mention two important subjects in regard to which there is a conviction in my mind that he came short of the faith of the older sages. The first is the doctrine of G.o.d. This name is common in the s.h.i.+h-ching and Shu-ching. Ti or Shang-Ti appears there as a personal being, ruling in heaven and on earth, the author of man's moral nature, the governor among the nations, by whom kings reign and princes decree justice, the rewarder of the good, and the punisher of the bad. Confucius preferred to speak of Heaven. Instances have already been given of this. Two others may be cited:-- 'He who offends against Heaven has none to whom he can pray [3]?' 'Alas! ' said he, 'there is no one that knows me.' Tsze-kung said, 'What do you mean by thus saying that no one knows you?' He replied, 'I do not murmur against Heaven. I do [footnote continued from previous page] its scope and meaning, and up to this time I have not been able to master it so as to speak positively about it. It will come in due time, in its place, in the present Publication, and I do not think that what I here say of Confucius will require much, if any, modification.' So I wrote in 1861; and I at last accomplished a translation of the Yi, which was published in 1882, as the sixteenth volume of 'The Sacred Books of 'the East.' I should like to bring out a revision of that version, with the Chinese text, so as to make it uniform with the volumes of the Cla.s.sics previously published. But as Yang Ho said to Confucius, 'The years do not wait for us.'

1 Ana. VII. xvii; xxiv; xx.

2 See Hardwick's 'Christ and other Masters,' Part iii, pp. 18, 19, with his reference in a note to a pa.s.sage from Meadows's 'The Chinese and their Rebellions.'

3 Ana. III. xiii.

not grumble against men. My studies lie low, and my penetration rises high. But there is Heaven;-- THAT knows me [1]!' Not once throughout the a.n.a.lects does he use the personal name. I would say that he was unreligious rather than irreligious; yet by the coldness of his temperament and intellect in this matter, his influence is unfavourable to the development of ardent religious feeling among the Chinese people generally; and he prepared the way for the speculations of the literati of medieval and modern times, which have exposed them to the charge of atheism.

Secondly, Along with the wors.h.i.+p of G.o.d there existed in China, from the earliest historical times, the wors.h.i.+p of other spiritual beings,-- especially, and to every individual, the wors.h.i.+p of departed ancestors. Confucius recognised this as an inst.i.tution to be devoutly observed. 'He sacrificed to the dead as if they were present; he sacrificed to the spirits as if the spirits were present. He said. "I consider my not being present at the sacrifice as if I did not sacrifice [2]."' The custom must have originated from a belief in the continued existence of the dead. We cannot suppose that they who inst.i.tuted it thought that with the cessation of this life on earth there was a cessation also of all conscious being. But Confucius never spoke explicitly on this subject. He tried to evade it. 'Chi Lu asked about serving the spirits of the dead, and the master said, "While you are not able to serve men, how can you serve their spirits?" The disciple added, "I venture to ask about death," and he was answered, "While you do not know life, how can you know about death [3]."' Still more striking is a conversation with another disciple, recorded in the 'Narratives of the School.' Tsze-kung asked him, saying, 'Do the dead have knowledge (of our services, that is), or are they without knowledge?' The master replied, 'If I were to say that the dead have such knowledge, I am afraid that filial sons and dutiful grandsons would injure their substance in paying the last offices to the departed; and if I were to say that the dead have not such knowledge, I am afraid lest unfilial sons should leave their parents unburied. You need not wish, Tsze, to know whether the dead have knowledge or not. There is no present urgency about the point. Hereafter you will know it for yourself [4].' Surely this was not the teaching proper to a sage.

1 Ana. XIV. x.x.xvii.

2 Ana. III. xii.

3 Ana. XI. xi.

4 ??, ??, art. ??, towards the end.

He said on one occasion that he had no concealments from his disciples [1]. Why did he not candidly tell his real thoughts on so interesting a subject? I incline to think that he doubted more than he believed. If the case were not so, it would be difficult to account for the answer which he returned to a question as to what const.i.tuted wisdom:-- 'To give one's self earnestly,' said he, 'to the duties due to men, and, while respecting spiritual beings, to keep aloof from them, may be called wisdom [2].' At any rate, as by his frequent references to Heaven, instead of following the phraseology of the older sages, he gave occasion to many of his professed followers to identify G.o.d with a principle of reason and the course of nature; so, in the point now in hand, he has led them to deny, like the Sadducees of old, the existence of any spirit at all, and to tell us that their sacrifices to the dead are but an outward form, the mode of expression which the principle of filial piety requires them to adopt when its objects have departed this life.

It will not be supposed that I wish to advocate or to defend the practice of sacrificing to the dead. My object has been to point out how Confucius recognised it, without acknowledging the faith from which it must have originated, and how he enforced it as a matter of form or ceremony. It thus connects itself with the most serious charge that can be brought against him,-- the charge of insincerity. Among the four things which it is said he taught, 'truthfulness' is specified [3], and many sayings might be quoted from him, in which 'sincerity' is celebrated as highly and demanded as stringently as ever it has been by any Christian moralist; yet he was not altogether the truthful and true man to whom we accord our highest approbation. There was the case of Mang Chih-fan, who boldly brought up the rear of the defeated troops of Lu, and attributed his occupying the place of honour to the backwardness of his horse. The action was gallant, but the apology for it was weak and unnecessary. And yet Confucius saw nothing in the whole but matter for praise [4]. He could excuse himself from seeing an unwelcome visitor on the ground that he was sick, when there was nothing the matter with him [5]. These were small matters, but what shall we say to the incident which I have given in the sketch of his Life, p. 79,-- his deliberately breaking the oath which he had sworn, simply on the ground that it had been forced from him?

1 Ana. VII. xxiii.

2 Ana. VI. xx.

3 See above, near the beginning of this paragraph.

4 Ana. VI. xiii.

5 Am. XVII. xx.

I should be glad if I could find evidence on which to deny the truth of that occurrence. But it rests on the same authority as most other statements about him, and it is accepted as a fact by the people and scholars of China. It must have had, and it must still have, a very injurious influence upon them. Foreigners charge a habit of deceitfulness upon the nation and its government;-- on the justice or injustice of this charge I say nothing. For every word of falsehood and every act of insincerity, the guilty party must bear his own burden, but we cannot but regret the example of Confucius in this particular. It is with the Chinese and their sage, as it was with the Jews of old and their teachers. He that leads them has caused them to err, and destroyed the way of their paths [1].