CHAPTER XI.

CLASSICAL LITERATURE OF THE CHINESE.

The literature contained in the language now briefly described is very ample and discursive, but wanting in accuracy and unenlivened by much variety or humor. The books of the Chinese have formed and confirmed their national taste, which consequently exhibits a tedious uniformity. The unbounded admiration felt for the classics and their immaculate authors, fostered by the examinations, has further tended to this result, and caused these writings to become still more famous from the unequalled influence they have exerted. It may be very readily seen, then, with what especial interest the student of Chinese sociology turns to an investigation of their letters, the immense accumulation of forty centuries. Were its amount and prominence the only features of their literature, these would suffice to make necessary some study thereof; but in addition, continued research may reveal some further qualities of “eloquence and poetry, enriched by the beauty of a picturesque language, preserving to imagination all its colors,” which will substantiate the hearty expressions used by Rémusat when first he entered upon a critical examination of its treasures.

In taking a survey of this literature, the _Sz’ Ku Tsiuen Shu Tsung-muh_, or ‘Catalogue of all Books in the Four Libraries,’ will be the best guide, since it embraces the whole range of letters, and affords a complete and succinct synopsis of the contents of the best books in the language. It is comprised in one hundred and twelve octavo volumes, and is of itself a valuable work, especially to the foreigner. The books are arranged into four divisions, viz., Classical, Historical, and Professional writings, and Belles-lettres. This Catalogue contains about 3,440 separate titles, comprising upward of 78,000 books; besides these, 6,764 other works, numbering 93,242 books, have been described in other catalogues of the imperial collections. These lists comprise the bulk of Chinese literature, except novels, Buddhist translations, and recent publications.

The works in the first division are ranged under nine sections; one is devoted to each of the five Classics (with a subsidiary section upon these as a whole), one to the memoir on Filial Duty, one to the Four Books, one to musical works, and the ninth to treatises on education, dictionaries, etc.

~THE YIH KING, OR BOOK OF CHANGES.~

At the head of the ‘Five Classics’ (_Wu King_) is placed the _Yih King_, or ‘Book of Changes,’ a work which if not--as it has been repeatedly called--_Antiquissimus Sinarum liber_, can be traced with tolerable accuracy to an origin three thousand years ago. It ranks, according to Dr. Legge, third in antiquity among the Chinese classics, or after the _Shu_ and portions of the _Shí King_; but if an unbounded veneration for enigmatical wisdom supposed to lie concealed under mystic lines be any just claim for importance, to this wondrous monument of literature may easily be conceded the first place in the estimation of Chinese scholars.

While following Dr. Legge in his recent exposition of this classic,[302] a clearer idea of its subject-matter can hardly be given than by quoting his words stating that “the text may be briefly represented as consisting of sixty-four short essays, enigmatically and symbolically expressed, on important themes, mostly of a moral, social, and political character, and based on the same number of lineal figures, each made up of six lines, some of which are whole and the others divided.” The evolution of the eight diagrams from two original principles is ascribed to Fuh-hí (B.C. 3322), who is regarded as the founder of the nation, though his history is, naturally enough, largely fabulous. From the _Liang Í_, or ‘Two Principles’ (⚊) (⚋), were fashioned the _Sz’ Siang_, or ‘Four Figures,’ by placing these over themselves and each of them over the other, thus:

⚌ ⚍ ⚎ ⚏

The same pairs placed in succession under the original lines formed eight trigrams called the

_PAH KWA_ of FUH-HÍ.

----------+---------------+-------------+----------+--------------+ ☰ | ☱ | ☲ | ☳ | ☴ | _kien_ | _tui_ | _lí_ | _chin_ | _siuen_ | ----------+---------------+-------------+----------+--------------+ | Water | Fire, as in | | | Heaven, | collected, | lightning; | Thunder. | The Wind; | the Sky. | as in a marsh | the Sun. | | Wood. | | or lake. | | | | ----------+---------------+-------------+----------+--------------+ S. | S.E. | E. | N.E. | S.W. | ----------+---------------+-------------+----------+--------------+ Untiring | Pleasure; | Brightness; | Moving; | Flexibility; | strength; | complacent | elegance. | exciting | penetration. | power. | satisfaction. | | power. | | ----------+---------------+-------------+----------+--------------+

+-------------------+------------+--------------- | ☵ | ☶ | ☷ | _kan_ | _kăn_ | _kwăn_ +-------------------+------------+--------------- | Water, as in rain,| | | clouds, springs, | Hills or | The Earth. | streams, and | Mountains. | | defiles. The Moon.| | +-------------------+------------+--------------- | W. | N.W. | N. +-------------------+------------+--------------- | Peril; difficulty.| Resting; | Capaciousness; | | the act of | submission. | | arresting. | +-------------------+------------+---------------

~ITS PHILOSOPHICAL SYSTEM.~

The table furnishes us with the natural objects that these figures are said to represent, the attributes which should seem to be suggested by them, and which, with the application of the eight points of the compass, together form the material for a cabalistic logomancy peculiarly pleasing to Chinese habits of thought. The trigrams furnish, moreover, the state and position, at any given place or time, of the twofold division of the one primordial _kí_, or ‘Air,’ called _Yang_ and _Yin_, and have thus become the source from whence the system of _Fung-shui_ is derived and on whose changes it is founded. This substance _kí_ answers sufficiently closely to the animated air of the Grecian philosopher Anaximenes; its divisions are a subtle and a coarse principle which, acting and reacting upon each other, produce four _siang_, or ‘forms,’ and these again combine into eight _kwa_, or trigrams. Fuh-hí is thus said to have arranged the first four of the _Pah Kwa_ under the _Yang_ (strong or hard) principle, and the last four under the _Yin_ (weak or soft) principle; the former indicate vigor or authority, and it is their part to command, while of the latter, representing feebleness or submission, it is the part to obey.

It was probably Wăn Wang, King Wăn, chief of the principality of Chau in 1185 B.C., who when thrown into prison by his jealous suzerain Shau, the tyrant of Shang, arranged and multiplied the trigrams--long before his time used for purposes of divination--into the sixty-four hexagrams as they now occur in the _Yih King_. His was a wholly different disposition, both of names, attributes, and the compass points, from the original trigrams of Fuh-hí; again, he added to them certain social relations of father, mother, three sons, and three daughters, which has ever since been found a convenient addition to the conjuring apparatus of the work. “I like to think,” says Dr. Legge, “of the lord of Chau, when incarcerated in Yu-lí, with the sixty-four figures arranged before him. Each hexagram assumed a mystic meaning and glowed with a deep significance. He made it to tell him of the qualities of various objects of nature, or of the principles of human society, or of the condition, actual and possible, of the kingdom. He named the figures each by a term descriptive of the idea with which he had connected it in his mind, and then he proceeded to set that idea forth, now with a note of exhortation, now with a note of warning. It was an attempt to restrict the follies of divination within the bounds of reason.... But all the work of King Wăn in the _Yih_ thus amounts to no more than sixty-four short paragraphs. We do not know what led his son Tan to enter into his work and complete it as he did. Tan was a patriot, a hero, a legislator, and a philosopher. Perhaps he took the lineal figures in hand as a tribute of filial duty. What had been done for the whole hexagram he would do for each line, and make it clear that all the six lines ‘bent one way their precious influence,’ and blended their rays in the globe of light which his father had made each figure give forth. But his method strikes us as singular. Each line seemed to become living, and suggested some phenomenon in nature, or some case of human experience, from which the wisdom or folly, the luckiness or unluckiness, indicated by it could be inferred. It cannot be said that the duke carried out his plan in a way likely to interest any one but a _hien shăng_ who is a votary of divination and admires the style of its oracles. According to our notions, a framer of emblems should be a good deal of a poet; but those of the _Yih_ only make us think of a dryasdust. Out of more than three hundred and fifty, the greater number are only grotesque. We do not recover from the feeling of disappointment till we remember that both father and son had to write ‘according to the trick,’ after the manner of diviners, as if this lineal augury had been their profession.”

Such is the text of the _Yih_. The words of King Wăn and his son are followed by commentaries called the _Shih Yih_, or ‘Ten Wings.’ These are of a much later period than the text, and are commonly ascribed to Confucius, though it is extremely doubtful if the sage was author of more than the sentences introduced by the oft-repeated formula, “The Master said,” occurring in or concluding many chapters of the ‘Wings.’ Without lingering over the varied contents of these appendices, more than to point out that the fifth and sixth Wings (‘Appended Sentences’), known as the ‘Great Treatise,’ contains for the first time the character _Yih_, or ‘Change,’ it will be necessary, before leaving this classic, to illustrate its curious nature by means of a single quotation.

~EXTRACTS FROM THE YIH KING.~

XXXI.--THE _HIEN_ HEXAGRAM.

䷞

Hien indicates that [on the fulfilment of the conditions implied in it] there will be free course and success. Its advantageousness will depend on the being firm and correct, [as] in marrying a young lady. There will be good fortune.

1. The first line, divided, shows one moving his great toes.

2. The second line, divided, shows one moving the calves of his leg. There will be evil. If he abide [quiet in his place] there will be good fortune.

3. The third line, undivided, shows one moving his thighs, and keeping close hold of those whom he follows. Going forward [in this way] will cause regret.

4. The fourth line, undivided, shows that firm correctness which will lead to good fortune and prevent all occasion for repentance. If its subject be unsettled in his movements, [only] his friends will follow his purpose.

5. The fifth line, undivided, shows one moving the flesh along the spine above the heart. There will be no occasion for repentance.

6. The sixth line, divided, shows one moving his jaws and tongue.

~ITS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE.~

An idea of the several commentaries, or ‘Wings,’ upon such a passage may be gained from the following excerpts. First comes the ‘Treatise on the Twan,’ or King Wăn’s paragraphs; then the ‘Treatise on the Symbols,’ consisting of observations on Duke Chau’s exposition.

From the _Second Wing_.--1. _Hien_ is here used in the sense of _Kan_, meaning [mutually] influencing.

2. The weak [trigram] above, and the strong one below; their two influences moving and responding to each other, and thereby forming a union; the repression [of the one] and the satisfaction [of the other]; [with their relative position] where the male is placed below the female--all these things convey the notion of ‘a free and successful course [on the fulfilment of the conditions], while the advantage will depend on being firm and correct, as in marrying a young lady, and there will be good fortune.’ ... etc., etc.

_Fourth Wing._--[The trigram representing] a mountain and above it that for [the waters of] a marsh form _Hien_. The superior man, in accordance with this, keeps his mind free from preoccupation, and open to receive [the influences of] others.

1. ‘He moves his great toe’--his mind is set on what is beyond [himself].

2. Though ‘there would be evil, yet if he abide [quiet] in his place there will be good fortune’--through compliance [with the circumstances of his condition and place] there will be no injury.

3. ‘He moves his thighs’--he still does not [want to] rest in his place. His will is set on ‘following others;’ what he holds in his grasp is low.

4. ‘Firm correctness will lead to good fortune, and prevent all occasion for repentance’--there has not yet been any harm from [a selfish wish to] influence. ‘He is unsettled in his movements’--[his power to influence] is not yet either brilliant or great.

5. ‘He [tries to] move the flesh along the spine above the heart’--his aim is trivial.

6. ‘He moves his jaws and tongue’--he [only] talks with loquacious mouth.

_Sixth Wing_ (‘Appended Sentences’).--Chapter I.--1. The eight trigrams having been completed in their proper order, there were in each the [three] emblematic lines. They were then multiplied by a process of addition till the [six] component lines appeared.

2. The strong line and the weak push themselves each into the place of the other, and hence the changes [of the diagrams] take place. The appended explanations attach to every form of them its character [of good or ill], and hence the movements [suggested by divination] are determined accordingly.

3. Good fortune and ill, occasion for repentance or regret, all arise from these movements ... etc., etc.

The hundreds of fortune-tellers seen in the streets of Chinese towns, whose answers to their perplexed customers are more or less founded on these cabala, indicate their influence among the illiterate; while among scholars, who have long since conceded all divination to be vain, it is surprising to remark the profound estimation in which these inane lines are held as the consummation of all wisdom--the germ, even, of all the truths which western science has brought to light! Each hexagram is supposed to represent, at any given time, six different phases of the primordial _kí_. “As all the good and evil in the world,” observes McClatchie, “is attributed by the Chinese philosophers to the purity or impurity of the animated air from which the two-fold soul in man is formed, a certain moral value attaches to each stroke, and the diviner prognosticates accordingly that good or evil luck, as the case may be, will result to the consulter of the oracle with regard to the matter on which he seeks it. Nine is the number of Heaven, or the undivided stroke, and six is the number of Earth, or the divided stroke, and hence each stroke has a double designation. The first stroke, if undivided, is designated ‘First-Nine,’ but if divided it is designated ‘First-Six,’ and so on. The second and fifth strokes in each diagram are important, being the centre or medium strokes of their respective lesser diagrams. The fifth stroke, however, is the most important in divination, as it represents that portion of the air which is the especial throne of the imperial power, and is the ‘undeflected due medium.’ Nothing but good luck can follow if the person divining with the straws obtains this stroke. Tao, or the Divine Reason, which is the supreme soul of the whole Kosmos, animates the air, pervading its six phases, and thus giving power to the diagrams to make known future events to mankind.”

Of course anything and everything could be deduced from such a fanciful groundwork, but the Chinese have taken up the discussion in the most serious manner, and endeavored to find the hidden meaning and evolutions of the universe from this curious system. The diagrams have, moreover, supplied the basis for many species of divination by shells, letters, etc., by which means the mass of the people are deluded into the belief of penetrating futurity, and still more wedded to their superstitions. The continued influence of such a work as the _Yih_ illustrates the national _penchant_ for laws and method, while equally indicating the general indifference to empirical research and the facts deduced from study of natural history. If, from a philosophical standpoint, we consider the barrenness of its results, there is little, indeed, to say for the _Yih King_, save concurrence in Dr. Gustave Schlegel’s epithet, “a mechanical play of idle abstractions;” nevertheless, this classic contains in its whimsical dress of inscrutable strokes much of practical wisdom, giving heed to which it is not hard to agree with Dr. Legge in concluding that “the inculcation of such lessons cannot have been without good effect in China during the long course of its history.”[303]

~THE SHU KING, OR BOOK OF RECORDS.~

The second section of the Imperial Catalogue contains treatises upon the _Shu King_, or ‘Book of Records.’ This classic, first in importance as it is in age among the five _King_, consists of a series of documents relating to the history of China from the times of Yao down to King Hiang, of the Chau dynasty (B.C. 2357-627). Its earlier chapters were composed at periods following the events of which they relate, but after the twenty-second century B.C. the _Shu_ comes to us, though in a mutilated condition, as the contemporary chronicle of proclamations, addresses, and principles of the early sovereigns. Internal evidence leads to the conclusion that Confucius acted chiefly as editor of documents existing in his day; he probably wrote the preface, but what alterations it received at his hand cannot now be ascertained. When it left his care it contained eighty-one documents in one hundred books, arranged under the five dynasties of Yao, Shun, Hia, Shang, and Chau, the last one coming down to within two hundred and twenty-one years of his own birth. Most of these are lost, and others are doubted by Chinese critics, so that now only forty-eight documents remain, thirty of them belonging to the Chau, with the preface ascribed to Confucius. He showed his estimate of their value by calling the whole _Shang Shu_, or the ‘Highest Book,’ and we may class their loss with that of other ancient works in Hebrew or Greek literature. The _Shu King_ now contains six different kinds of state papers, viz., imperial ordinances, plans drawn up by statesmen as guides for their sovereign, instructions prepared for the guidance of the prince, imperial proclamations and charges to the people, vows taken before Shangtí by the monarch when going out to battle, and, lastly, mandates, announcements, speeches, and canons issued to the ministers of state.[304]

The morality of the _Shu King_, for a pagan work, is extremely good; the principles of administration laid down in it, founded on a regard to the welfare of the people, would, if carried out, insure universal prosperity. The answer of Kaoyao to the monarch Yu is expressive of a mild spirit: “Your virtue, O Emperor, is faultless. You condescend to your ministers with a liberal ease; you rule the multitude with a generous forbearance. Your punishments do not extend to the criminal’s heirs, but your rewards reach to after-generations. You pardon inadvertent faults, however great, and punish deliberate crime, however small. In cases of doubtful crimes you deal with them lightly; of doubtful merit, you prefer the highest estimate. Rather than put to death the guiltless, you will run the risk of irregularity and laxity. This life-loving virtue has penetrated the minds of the people, and this is why they do not render themselves liable to be punished by your officers.”[305]

In the counsels of Yu to Shun are many of the best maxims of good government, both for rulers and ruled, which antiquity has handed down in any country. The following are among them: “Yih said, Alas! Be cautious. Admonish yourself to caution when there seems to be no reason for anxiety. Do not fail in due attention to laws and ordinances. Do not find enjoyment in indulgent ease. Do not go to excess in pleasure. Employ men of worth without intermediaries. Put away evil advisers, nor try to carry out doubtful plans. Study that all your purposes may be according to reason. Do not seek the people’s praises by going against reason, nor oppose the people to follow your own desires. Be neither idle nor wayward, and even foreign tribes will come under your sway.”

The _Shu King_ contains the seeds of all things that are valuable in the estimation of the Chinese; it is at once the foundation of their political system, their history, and their religious rites, the basis of their tactics, music, and astronomy. Some have thought that the knowledge of the true God under the appellation of Shangtí is not obscurely intimated in it, and the precepts for governing a country, scattered through its dialogues and proclamations, do their writers credit, however little they may have been followed in practice. Its astronomy has attracted much investigation, but whether the remarks of the commentators are to be ascribed to the times in which they themselves flourished, or to the knowledge they had of the ancient state of the science, is doubtful. The careful and candid discussions by Legge in the introduction to his translation furnish most satisfactory conclusions as to the origin, value, and condition of this venerable relic of ancient China. For his scholarly edition of the _Classics_ he has already earned the hearty thanks of every student of Chinese literature.[306]

~THE SHÍ KING, OR BOOK OF ODES.~

The third of the classics, the _Shí King_, or ‘Book of Odes,’ is ranked together with the two preceding, while its influence upon the national mind has been equally great; a list of commentators upon this work fills the third section of the Catalogue. These poetical relics are arranged into four parts: The _Kwoh Fung_, or ‘National Airs,’ numbering one hundred and fifty-nine, from fifteen feudal States; the _Siao Ya_, or ‘Lesser Eulogiums,’ numbering eighty, and arranged under eight decades; the _Ta Ya_, or ‘Greater Eulogiums,’ numbering thirty-one, under three decades (both of these were designed to be sung on solemn occasions at the royal court); and the _Sung_, or ‘Sacrificial Odes,’ numbering forty-one chants connected with the ancestral worship of the rulers of Chau, Lu, and Shang. Out of a total number of three hundred and eleven now extant, six have only their titles preserved, while to a major part of the others native scholars give many various readings.

In the preface to his careful translation Dr. Legge has collected all the important information concerning the age, origin, and purpose of these odes, as furnished by native commentators, whose theory is that “it was the duty of the kings to make themselves acquainted with all the odes and songs current in the different States, and to judge from them of the character of the rule exercised by their several princes, so that they might minister praise or blame, reward or punishment accordingly.” These odes and songs seem to have been gathered by Wăn Wang and Duke Chau at the beginning of the Chau dynasty (B.C. 1120), some of them at the capital, others from the feudal rulers in the course of royal progresses through the land, the royal music-master getting copies from the music-masters of the princes. The whole were then arranged, set to music, too, it may be, and deposited for use and reference in the national archives, as well as distributed among the feudatories. Their ages are uncertain, but probably do not antedate B.C. 1719 nor come after 585, or about thirty years before Confucius. Their number was not improbably at first fully up to the three thousand mentioned by the biographers of Confucius, but long before the sage appeared disasters of one kind and another had reduced them to nearly their present condition. What we have is, therefore, but a fragment of various collections made in the early reigns of the Chau sovereigns, which received, perhaps, larger subsequent additions than were preserved to the time of Confucius. He probably took them as they existed in his day, and feeling, possibly, like George Herbert, that

“A verse may finde him, who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice,”

did everything he could to extend their adoption among his countrymen. It is difficult to estimate the power they have exerted over the subsequent generations of Chinese scholars--nor has their influence ever tended to debase their morals, if it has not exalted their imagination. They have escaped the looseness of Moschus, Ovid, or Juvenal, if they have not attained the grandeur of Homer or the sweetness of Virgil and Pindar. There is nothing of an epic character in them--nor even a lengthened narrative--and little of human passions in their strong development. The metaphors and illustrations are often quaint, sometimes puerile, and occasionally ridiculous. Their acknowledged antiquity, their religious character, and their illustration of early Chinese customs and feelings form their principal claims to our notice and appreciative study. M. Ed. Biot, of Paris, was the first European scholar who studied them carefully in this aspect, and his articles in the _Journal Asiatique_ for 1843 are models of analytic criticism and synthetic compilation, enabling one, as he says, “to contemplate at his ease the spectacle of the primitive manners of society in the early age of China, so different from what was then found in Europe and Western Asia.”

~EXAMPLES OF ITS LYRIC POETRY.~

An ode referred to the time of Wăn Wang (a contemporary of Saul) contains a sentiment reminding us of Morris’ lines beginning “Woodman, spare that tree.” It is in Part I., Book II., and is called _Kan-tang_, or the ‘Sweet pear-tree.’

1. O fell not that sweet pear-tree! See how its branches spread. Spoil not its shade, For Shao’s chief laid Beneath it his weary head.

2. O clip not that sweet pear-tree! Each twig and leaflet spare-- ’Tis sacred now, Since the lord of Shao, When weary, rested him there.

3. O touch not that sweet pear-tree! Bend not a twig of it now; There long ago, As the stories show, Oft halted the chief of Shao.[307]

The eighth ode in Book III., called _Hiung Chí_, or ‘Cock Pheasant,’ contains a wife’s lament on her husband’s absence.

1. Away the startled pheasant flies, With lazy movement of his wings; Borne was my heart’s lord from my eyes-- What pain the separation brings!

2. The pheasant, though no more in view, His cry below, above, forth sends. Alas! my princely lord, ’tis you,-- Your absence, that my bosom rends.

3. At sun and moon I sit and gaze, In converse with my troubled heart. Far, far from me my husband stays! When will he come to heal its smart?

4. Ye princely men, who with him mate, Say, mark ye not his virtuous way? His rule is, covet nought, none hate: How can his steps from goodness stray?[308]

From the same book we translate somewhat freely an example (No. 17) of love-song, or serenade, not uncommon among these odes.

Maiden fair, so sweet, retiring, At the tryst I wait for thee; Still I pause in doubt, inquiring Why thou triflest thus with me.

Ah! the maid so coy, so handsome, Pledged she with a rosy reed; Than the reed is she more winsome. Love with beauty hard must plead!

In the meadows sought we flowers, These she gave me--beauteous, rare: Far above the gift there towers The dear giver--lovelier, fair!

Among the ‘Lesser Eulogiums’ (Book IV., Ode 5) is one more ambitious in its scope, relating to the completion of a palace of King Siuen, about B.C. 800.

1. On yonder banks a palace, lo! upshoots, The tender blue of southern hill behind, Time-founded, like the bamboo’s clasping roots; Its roof, made pine-like, to a point defined. Fraternal love here bears its precious fruits, And unfraternal schemes be ne’er designed!

2. Ancestral sway is his. The walls they rear Five thousand cubits long, and south and west The doors are placed. Here will the king appear, Here laugh, here talk, here sit him down and rest.

3. To mould the walls, the frames they firmly tie; The toiling builders beat the earth and lime; The walls shall vermin, storm, and bird defy-- Fit dwelling is it for his lordly prime.

4. Grand is the hall the noble lord ascends; In height, like human form, most reverent, grand; And straight, as flies the shaft when bow unbends; Its tints like hues when pheasant’s wings expand.

5. High pillars rise the level court around; The pleasant light the open chamber steeps, And deep recesses, wide alcoves are found, Where our good king in perfect quiet sleeps.

6. Laid is the bamboo mat on rush mat square; Here shall he sleep; and waking say, “Divine What dreams are good? For bear and piebald bear, And snakes and cobras haunt this couch of mine.”

7. Then shall the chief diviner glad reply, “The bears foreshow their signs of promised sons. The snakes and cobras daughters prophesy: These auguries are all auspicious ones.”

8. Sons shall be his--on couches lulled to rest; The little ones enrobed, with sceptres play; Their infant cries are loud as stern behest, Their knees the vermeil covers shall display. As king hereafter one shall be addressed; The rest, our princes, all the States shall sway.

9. And daughters also to him shall be born. They shall be placed upon the ground to sleep; Their playthings tiles, their dress the simplest worn; Their part alike from good and ill to keep, And ne’er their parents’ hearts to cause to mourn; To cook the food, and spirit-malt to steep.[309]

The last two stanzas indicate the comparative estimate, in ancient days, of boys and girls born into a family; and this estimate, still maintained, has been in a great degree upheld by this authority. Another ode in the ‘Greater Eulogies’ (Book III., Ode 10) deplores the misery that prevailed about B.C. 780, owing to the interference of women and eunuchs in the government. Two stanzas only are quoted, which are supposed to have been specially directed against Pao Sz’, a mischief-maker in the court of King Yu, like Agrippina and Pulcheria in Roman and Byzantine annals.

3. A wise man builds the city wall, But a wise woman throws it down. Wise is she? Good you may her call; She is an owl we should disown! To woman’s tongue let scope be given And step by step to harm it leads. Disorder does not come from Heaven; ’Tis woman’s tongue disorder breeds. Women and eunuchs! Never came Lesson or warning words from them!

4. Hurtful and false, their spite they wreak; And when exposed their falsehood lies-- The wrong they do not own, but sneak And say, “No harm did we devise.” “Thrice cent. per cent.!” Why, that is trade! Yet ’twould the princely man disgrace. So public things to wife and maid Must not silkworms and looms displace.[310]

There are, however, numerous stanzas among the odes in the ‘National Airs’ which show their fairer side and go far to neutralize these, giving the same contrasts in female character which were portrayed by King Solomon during the same age.

~VERSIFICATION OF THE SHÍ KING.~

The versification in a monosyllabic language appears very tame to those who are only familiar with the lively and varied rhythms of western tongues; but the Chinese express more vivacity and cadence in their ballads and ditties when sung than one would infer from these ancient relics when transliterated in our letters. As the young lad has usually committed all the three hundred and five odes to memory before he enters the Examination Hall, their influence on the matter and manner of his own future poetical attempts can hardly be exaggerated. It is shown throughout the thousands of volumes enumerated in the fourth division of the Imperial Catalogue. Most of the _Shí King_ is written in tetrametres, and nothing can be more simple. They have been most unfortunately likened to the Hebrew Psalms by some of the early missionaries, but neither in manner nor matter is the comparison a happy one. One point of verbal resemblance is noticed by Dr. Legge between the first ode in Part III. and the one hundred and twenty-first psalm, where the last line of a stanza is generally repeated in the first line of the next, a feature something like the repetitions in _Hiawatha_. The rhymes and tones both form an essential part of Chinese poetry, one which can only be imperfectly represented in our language. The following furnishes an example of the general style, to which a literal rendering is subjoined:

1. _Nan yin kiao muh,_ South has stately trees, _Puh k’o hiu sih;_ Not can shelter indeed; _Han yin yin nü,_ Han has rambling women, _Puh k’o kiu sz’._ Not can solicit indeed. _Han chí kwang í,_ Han’s breadth be sure, _Puh k’o yung sz’;_ Not can be dived indeed; _Kiang chí yung í_ Kiang’s length be sure, _Puh k’o fang sz’._ Not can be rafted indeed.

2. _Kiao kiao tso sin,_ Many many mixed faggots, _Yen í kí chu;_ Willingly I cut the brambles; _Chí tsz’ yü kwei_ Those girls going home, _Yen moh kí ma;_ Willingly I would feed their horses; _Han chí kwang í, etc._ Han’s breadth be sure, etc.

3. _Kiao kiao tso sin,_ Many many mixed faggots, _Yen í kí lao;_ Willingly I cut the artemisia; _Chí tsz’ yü kwei_ Those girls going home, _Yen moh kí kü._ Willingly I would feed their colts; _Han chí kwang í, etc._ Han’s breadth be sure, etc.

The highest range of thought in the odes is contained in Part IV., but the whole collection is worthy of perusal, and through the labors of Dr. Legge has been made more accessible than it was ever before. The amount of native literature extant, illustrative, critical, and philological, referring to the _Book of Odes_[311] is not so large as that on the _Yih King_; but the fifty-five works quoted in his preface[312] contain enough to indicate their industry and acumen. These works will elevate the character of Chinese scholarship in the opinion of those foreigners who remember the disadvantages of its isolation from the literature of other lands, and the difficulties of a language which rendered that literature inaccessible.[313]

~THE THREE RITUALS.~

The fourth section in the Catalogue contains the Rituals and a list of their editions and commentators, but only one of the three is numbered among the _King_ and used as a text-book at the public examinations. This is the _Lí Kí_, or ‘Book of Rites,’ the _Mémorial des Rites_, as M. Callery calls it in his translation,[314] and one of the works which has done so much to mold and maintain Chinese character and institutions. It is not superior in any respect to the _Chau Lí_ and the _Í Lí_, but owes its influence to its position. They were all the particular objects of Tsin Chí Hwangtí’s ire in his efforts to destroy every ancient literary production in his kingdom; the present texts were recovered from their hiding-places about B.C. 135. The _Chau Lí_, or ‘Ritual of Chau,’ is regarded as the work of Duke Chau (B.C. 1130), who gives the detail of the various offices established under the new dynasty, in which he bore so prominent a part. The sections containing the divisions of the administrative part of the Chinese government of that day have furnished the types for the six boards of the present day and their subdivisions. So far as we now know, no nation then existing could show so methodical and effective a system of national polity.

The _Í Lí_ is a smaller work, treating of family affairs, and as its name, ‘Decorum Ritual,’ indicates, contains directions for domestic life, as the other does for state matters. That is in forty-four sections and this is in seven, and both are now accepted as among the most ancient works extant. The former was translated by Ed. Biot,[315] and remains a monument of his scholarship and research.

~THE LÍ KÍ, OR BOOK OF RITES.~

The _Lí Kí_ owes its position among the classics to the belief that Confucius here gives his views on government and manners, although these chapters are not regarded as the same in their integrity as those said to have been found in the walls of his house, and brought to light in the second century B.C. by Kao Tang of Lu, under the name of _Sz’ Lí_, or the ‘Scholar’s Ritual.’ In the next century Tai Teh collected all the existing documents relating to the ancient rituals in two hundred and fourteen sections, only a portion of which were then held to have emanated from the sage and recorded by his pupils. His work, in eighty-five sections, is called _Ta Tai Lí_, or the ‘Senior Tai’s Ritual,’ to distinguish it from the _Siao Tai Lí_, or the ‘Junior Tai’s Ritual,’ a work in forty-nine sections, by his nephew, Tai Shing. This is the work now known as the _Lí Kí_, M. Callery’s translation of which contains the authorized text of Kanghí according to Fan Tsz’-tăng, in thirty-six sections, with many notes. His translation is wearisome reading from the multitude of parentheses interjected into the text, distracting the attention and weakening its continuity.

Those who have read Abbé Huc’s entertaining remarks on the Rites in China will find in these three works the reason and application of their details. In explanation of their importance, M. Callery shows in a few words what a wide field they cover: “Ceremony epitomizes the entire Chinese mind; and, in my opinion, the _Lí Kí_ is _per se_ the most exact and complete monograph that China has been able to give of itself to other nations. Its affections, if it has any, are satisfied by ceremony; its duties are fulfilled by ceremony; its virtues and vices are referred to ceremony; the natural relations of created beings essentially link themselves in ceremonial--in a word, to that people ceremonial is man as a moral, political, and religious being in his multiplied relations with family, country, society, morality, and religion.” This explanation shows, too, how meagre a rendering _ceremony_ is for the Chinese idea of _lí_, for it includes not only the external conduct, but involves the right principles from which all true etiquette and politeness spring. The state religion, the government of a family, and the rules of society are all founded on the true _lí_, or relations of things. Reference has already been made to this profoundly esteemed work (p. 520), and one or two more extracts will suffice to exhibit its spirit and style, singular in its object and scope among all the bequests of antiquity.

_Affection between father and son._

In the Domestic Rules it is said, “Men in serving their parents, at the first cock-crowing, must all wash their hands; rinse their mouth; comb their hair; bind it together with a net; fasten it with a bodkin, forming it into a tuft; brush off the dust; put on the hat, tying the strings, ornamented with tassels; also the waistcoat, frock, and girdle, with the note-sticks placed in it, and the indispensables attached on the right and left; bind on the greaves; and put on the shoes, tying up the strings. Wives must serve their husband’s father and mother as their own; at the first cock-crowing, they must wash their hands; rinse their mouth; comb their hair; bind it together with a net; fasten it with a bodkin, forming it into a tuft; put on their frocks and girdles, with the indispensables attached on the right and left; fasten on their bags of perfumery; put on and tie up their shoes. Then go to the chamber of their father and mother, and father-in-law and mother-in-law, and having entered, in a low and placid tone they must inquire whether their dress is too warm or too cool; if the parents have pain or itching, themselves must respectfully press or rub [the part affected]; and if they enter or leave the room, themselves either going before or following, must respectfully support them. In bringing the apparatus for washing, the younger must present the bowl; the elder the water, begging them to pour it and wash; and after they have washed, hand them the towel. In asking and respectfully presenting what they wish to eat, they must cheer them by their mild manner; and must wait till their father and mother, and father-in-law and mother-in-law have eaten, and then retire. Boys and girls, who have not arrived at the age of manhood and womanhood, at the first cock-crowing must wash their hands; rinse their mouth; comb their hair; bind it together with a net; and form it into a tuft; brush off the dust; tie on their bags, having them well supplied with perfumery; then hasten at early dawn to see their parents, and inquire if they have eaten and drunk; if they have, they must immediately retire; but if not, they must assist their superiors in seeing that everything is duly made ready.”

_Of reproving parents._

“When his parents are in error, the son with a humble spirit, pleasing countenance, and gentle tone, must point it out to them. If they do not receive his reproof, he must strive more and more to be dutiful and respectful toward them till they are pleased, and then he must again point out their error. But if he does not succeed in pleasing them, it is better that he should continue to reiterate reproof, than permit them to do injury to the whole department, district, village, or neighborhood. And if the parents, irritated and displeased, chastise their son till the blood flows from him, even then he must not dare to harbor the least resentment; but, on the contrary, should treat them with increased respect and dutifulness.”

_Respect to be paid parents in one’s conduct._

“Although your father and mother are dead, if you propose to yourself any good work, only reflect how it will make their names illustrious, and your purpose will be fixed. So if you propose to do what is not good, only consider how it will disgrace the names of your father and mother, and you will desist from your purpose.”[316]

These extracts show something of the molding principles which operate on Chinese youth from earliest years, and the scope given in his education to filial piety. From conning such precepts the lad is imbued with a respect for his parents that finally becomes intensified into a religious sentiment, and forms, as he increases in age, his only creed--the worship of ancestors. His seniors, on the other hand, have but to point to the text-books before him as authority for all things they exact, and as being the only possible source of those virtues that conduct to happiness. The position of females, too, has remained, under these dogmas, much the same for hundreds of years. Nor is it difficult to account for the influence which they have had. Those who were most aware of their excellence, and had had some experience in the tortuous dealings of the human heart, as husbands, fathers, mothers, officers, and seniors, were those who had the power to enforce obedience upon wives, children, daughters, subjects, and juniors, as well as teach it to them. These must wait till increasing years brought about their turn to fill the upper rank in the social system, by which time habit would lead them to exercise their sway over the rising generation in the same manner. Thus it would be perpetuated, for the man could not depart from the way his childhood was trained; had the results been more disastrous, it would have been easy for us to explain why, amid the ignorance, craft, ambition, and discontent found in a populous, uneducated, pagan country, such formal rules had failed of benefiting society to any lasting extent. We must look higher for this result, and acknowledge the degree of wholesome restraint upon the passions of the Chinese which the Author of whatever is good in these tenets has seen fit to confer upon them in order to the preservation of society.

~THE CHUN TSIU, OR SPRING AND AUTUMN RECORD.~

The fifth section contains the _Chun Tsiu_, or ‘Spring and Autumn Record,’ and its literature. This is the only one of the _King_ attributed to Confucius, though whether we have in the _Record_, as it now exists, a genuine compilation of the sage, does not appear to be beyond doubt. His object being to construct a narrative of events in continuation of the _Shu King_, he, with assistance from his pupils, drew up a history of his own country, extending from the reign of Ping Wang to about the period of his birth (B.C. 722 to 480). Inasmuch as the author of this chronicle confined himself to the relation of such facts as he deemed worthy to be recorded, and was not above altering or concealing such details as in his private judgment appeared unworthy of the princes of his dynasty, this history cannot be regarded as exactly in conformity with modern notions of what is desirable in works of this class. That Confucius wished to leave behind him a lasting monument to his own name, as well as a narration of events, we gather from more than one of his utterances: “The superior man is distressed lest his name should not be honorably mentioned after death. My principles do not make way in the world; how shall I make myself known to future ages?” In order, therefore, to insure the preservation of his _chef d’œuvre_ to all time, he combines with the annals certain censures and righteous decisions which should render it at once a history and a text-book of moral lessons; and in giving the book to his disciples, “It is by the _Chun Tsiu_,” he said, “that after-ages will know me, and also by it that they will condemn me.”

The title, “Spring and Autumn,” is understood by many Chinese scholars to be a term for chronological annals; in this case the name being explained “because their commendations are life-giving like spring, and their censures life-withering like autumn,” or, as we find in the _Trimetrical Classic_, “which by praise and blame separates the good and bad.”[317] A closer inspection of the _Chun Tsiu_ is sure to prove disappointing; spite of the glowing accounts of Mencius and its great reputation, this history is simply a bald record of incidents whose entire contents afford barely an hour’s reading. “Instead of a history of events,” writes Dr. Legge, “woven artistically together, we find a congeries of the briefest possible intimations of matters in which the court and State of Lu were more or less concerned, extending over two hundred and forty-two years, without the slightest tincture of literary ability in the composition, or the slightest indication of judicial opinion on the part of the writer. The paragraphs are always brief. Each one is designed to commemorate a fact; but whether that fact be a display of virtue calculated to command our admiration, or a deed of atrocity fitted to awaken our disgust, it can hardly be said that there is anything in the language to convey to us the shadow of an idea of the author’s feelings about it. The notices--for we cannot call them narratives--are absolutely unimpassioned. A base murder and a shining act of heroism are chronicled just as the eclipses of the sun are chronicled. So and so took place; that is all. No details are given; no judgment is expressed.”

~ITS COMMENTARIES.~

So imperturbable a recital could hardly have been saved from extinction even by the great reputation of the sage, had it not been for the amplification of Tso, a younger contemporary or follower of Confucius, who filled up the meagre sentences and added both flesh and life to the skeleton. It is possible that the enthusiastic praises of Mencius are due to the fact that he associated the text and commentary as one work. The Chuen of Tso has indeed always been regarded as foremost among the secondary classics; nor is it too much, considering his terse yet vivid and pictorial style, to call its author, as does Dr. Legge, “the Froissart of China.”[318] In addition to his purpose of explaining the text of the _Chun Tsiu_, Tso’s secondary object was to give a general view of the history of China during the period embraced by that record; unless he had put his living tableaux into the framework of his master, there is grave reason to fear that many most important details relating to the sixth and seventh centuries B.C. would have been forever lost. Two other early commentaries, those of Kung Yang and Kuh Liang, dating from about the second century B.C., occupy a high position in the estimation of Chinese scholars as illustrative of the original chronicle. They do not compare with the _Tso Chuen_ either in interest or in authority, though it may be said that a study of the _Chun Tsiu_ can hardly be made unless attended with a careful perusal of their contents. It will not be without interest to give an example of the _Record_, followed with elucidations of the text by these three annotators. The second year of Duke Hí of Lu (B.C. 657) runs as follows:

~EXTRACTS FROM THE CHUN TSIU.~

1. In the [duke’s] second year, in spring, in the king’s first month, we [aided in the] walling of Tsu-kin.

2. In summer, in the fifth month, on Sin-sz’, we buried our duchess, Gai Kiang.

3. An army of Yu and an army of Tsin extinguished Hia-yang.

4. In autumn, in the ninth month, the Marquis of Tsz’, the Duke of Sung, an officer of Kiang, and an officer of Hwang, made a covenant in Kwan.

5. In winter, in the tenth month, there was no rain.

6. A body of men from Tsu made an incursion into Ching.

Upon the third entry for this year the _Tso Chuen_ enlarges:

Seun Seih, of Tsin, requested leave from the marquis to take his team of Kiuh horses and his _peih_ of Chui-keih jade, and with them borrow a way from Yu to march through it and attack Kwoh. “They are the things I hold most precious,” said the marquis. Seih replied, “But if you get a way through Yu, it is but like placing them in a treasury outside the State for a time.” “There is Kung Che-kí in Yu,” objected the duke. “Kung Che-kí,” returned the other, “is a weak man, and incapable of remonstrating vigorously. And, moreover, from his youth up he has always been with the Duke of Yu, who is so familiar with him that though he should remonstrate the duke will not listen to him.” The marquis accordingly sent Seun Seih to borrow a way through Yu with this message: “Formerly Kí, against right and reason, entered your State from Tien-ling, and attacked the three gates of Ming. It suffered for so doing, all through your grace. Now Kwoh, against right and reason, has been keeping guards about the travellers’ lodges, to make incursions from them into my southern borders, and I venture to beg a right of way from you to ask an account of its offence.” The Duke of Yu granted the request, and even asked to take the lead in invading Kwoh. Kung Che-kí remonstrated with him, but in vain; and he raised his army for the enterprise. In summer, Lí Kih and Seun Seih brought on the army of Tsin, made a junction with that of Yu, and invaded Kwoh, when they extinguished Hia-yang. The army of Yu is mentioned first, because of the bribes which the duke accepted.

The commentary of Kung Yang says on the same paragraph:

Yu was a small State; why is it that it is here made to take precedence of a great one? To make Yu take the lead in the wickedness.

Why is Yu made to take the lead in the wickedness? Yu received the bribes with which those [who were going to] extinguish the State [of Kwoh] borrowed a way through it, and thus brought on its own ruin.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

~THE GREAT LEARNING AND JUST MEDIUM.~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~THE SAGE, OR PRINCELY MAN.~

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

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

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

~THE ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS.~

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

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

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

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

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

Have no friends unlike yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~LIFE OF CONFUCIUS.~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~CHARACTER OF THE CONFUCIAN SYSTEM.~

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

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

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

~WORSHIP OF CONFUCIUS.~

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

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

~LIFE OF MENCIUS.~

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

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

~PERSONAL CHARACTER OF HIS TEACHINGS.~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~HIS ESTIMATE OF HUMAN NATURE.~

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

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

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

~KANGHÍ’S DICTIONARY.~

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

FOOTNOTES:

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

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

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

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

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

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

[308] _Ib._, p. 83.

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

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

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

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

[313] Compare _Confucii Chi-king sive Liber Carminum, ex latina_ P. Lacharme _interpretatione edidit_ J. Mohl, Stuttgart, 1830; _Essai sur le Chi-king, et sur l’ancienne poésie chinoise_, _par_ M. Brosset jeune, Paris, 1828; _Bibliothèque orientale_, Vol. II., p. 247 (1872). _Chi-king, ou Livre des Vers_, Traduction de M. G. Pauthier; _China Review_, Vol. VI., pp. 1 ff. and 166 ff. _Journal N. C. Br. R. As. Soc._, Vol. XII., pp. 97 ff.

[314] _Li-ki ou Mémorial des Rites_, _traduit pour la première fois du chinois, et accompagné de notes, de commentaires et du texte original, par_ J. M. Callery. Turin et Paris, 1853.

[315] _Le Tcheou-Li ou Rites des Tcheou_, _traduit pour la première fois du chinois, par_ Feu Édouard Biot. 2 Tomes. Paris, 1851.

[316] _Chinese Repository_, Vol. V., pp. 306-312.

[317] This somewhat fanciful explanation of the title is from the Han commentators. Dr. Legge (_Classics_, Vol. V., Prolegomena, p. 7) observes that “not even in the work do we find such ‘censures’ and ‘commendations;’ and much less are they trumpeted in the title of it.” His interpretation that Spring and Autumn are put by synechdoche for all four seasons, _i.e._, the entire record of the year, appears to be a more natural account. The same writer declares that “the whole book is a collection of riddles, to which there are as many answers as there are guessers.” The interesting chapters of his _prolegomena_ to this translation, and his judicious criticisms on these early records, should tempt all sinologues to read them throughout.

[318] The same writer adds, in summing up the merits of the _Tso Chuen_: “It is, in my opinion, the most precious literary treasure which has come down to posterity from the Chow dynasty.”--_Classics_, Vol. V., Proleg., p. 35.

[319] To this the Kung Yang commentator adds: “This he said in joke.”

[320] Compare _Tchun Tsieou, Le Printemps & l’Automne, ou Annales de la Principauté de Lou, depuis 722 jusqu’ en 481_, etc. _Traduites en françois, par_ Le Roux Deshauterayes. 1750. Dr. E. Bretschneider, in the _Chinese Recorder_, Vol. IV., pp. 51-52, 1871.

[321] Collie’s _Four Books_, pp. 6-10.

[322] _Ib._, p. 28.

[323] _The Works of Confucius; containing the original text, with a Translation_, by J. Marshman. Vol. I. Serampore, 1807.

[324] _Chinese Repository_, Vol. XI., p. 421. Pauthier, _La Chine_, Paris, 1839, pp. 121-184.

[325] Compare Dr. Legge’s _Religions of China_; Prof. R. K. Douglas, _Confucianism and Taouism_, London, 1879; S. Johnson, _Oriental Religions: China_, Boston, 1877; _A Systematical Digest of the Doctrines of Confucius, according to the Analects, Great Learning, and Doctrine of the Mean_, etc., by Ernst Faber. Translated from the German by Möllendorff, Hongkong, 1875; _Histoire de Confucius_, par J. Sénamaud, Bordeaux et Paris, 1878.

[326] It may here be remarked that the terms _tsz’_ or _fu-tsz’_ do not properly form a part of the name, but are titles, meaning _rabbi_ or _eminent teacher_, and are added to the surnames of some of the most distinguished writers, by way of peculiar distinction; and in the words Mencius and Confucius have been Latinized with Măng and Kung, names of the persons themselves, into one word. The names of other distinguished scholars, as Chu fu-tsz’, Ching fu-tsz’, etc., have not undergone this change into Chufucius, Chingfucius; but usage has now brought the compellation for these two men into universal use as a distinctive title, somewhat like the term _venerable_ applied to Bede.

[327] Rémusat, _Nouveaux Mélanges_, Tome II., pp. 115-129.

[328] _Chinese Classics_, Vol II. Hongkong, 1862.