The three remaining divisions of the Imperial Catalogue comprise lists of Historical, Professional, and Poetical works. The estimate made of their value will depend somewhat on the peculiar line of research of the student, and to give him the means of doing this would require copious extracts from poetical, religious, topographical or moral writings. Those who have studied them the longest, as Rémusat, Julien, Staunton, Pauthier, the two Morrisons, Legge, etc., speak of them with the most respect, whether it arose from a higher appreciation of their worth as they learned more, or that the zealousness of their studies imparted a tinge of enthusiasm to their descriptions. A writer in the Quarterly Review gives good reasons for placing the polite literature of the Chinese first for the insight it is likely to give Europeans into their habits of thought. “The Chinese stand eminently distinguished from other Asiatics by their early possession and extensive use of the important art of printing—of printing, too, in that particular shape, the stereotype, which is best calculated, by multiplying the copies and cheapening the price, to promote the circulation of every species of their literature. Hence they are, as might be expected, a reading people; a certain degree of education is common among even the lower classes, and among the higher it is superfluous to insist on the great estimation in which letters must be held under a system where learning forms the very threshold of the gate that conducts to fame, honors, and civil employment. Amid the vast mass of printed books which is the natural offspring of such a state of things, we make no scruple to avow that the circle of their belles-lettres, comprised under the heads of drama, poetry, and novels, has always possessed the highest place in our esteem; and we must say that there appears no readier or more agreeable mode of becoming intimately acquainted with a people from whom Europe can have so little to learn on the score of either moral or physical science than by drawing largely on the inexhaustible stores of their ornamental literature.”
The second division in the Catalogue, Sz’ Pu, or ‘Historical Writings,’ is subdivided into fifteen sections. These writings are very extensive; even their mere list conveys a high idea of the vast amount of labor expended upon them; and it is impossible to withhold respect, at least, to the industry displayed in compilations like the Seventeen Histories, in two hundred and seventeen volumes, and its continuation, the Twenty-two Histories, a still larger work. Though the entertaining episodes and sketches of character found in Herodotus and other ancient European historians are wanting, there is plenty of incident in court, camp, and social life, as well as public acts and royal biography. The dynastic records became the duty of special officers, and the headings adopted from the Sui, A.D. 590, have since been followed in arranging the historic materials under twelve heads. From the mass of materials digested by careful scholars have been compiled the records now known; they form, with all their imperfections, the best continuous history of any Asiatic people. Popular abridgments are common, among which the Tung Kien Kang-muh, or ‘General Mirror of History,’ and a compiled abridgment of it, the Kang Kien Í Chí, or ‘History made Easy,’ are the most useful.
The earliest historian among the Chinese is Sz’ma Tsien,[329] who flourished about B.C. 104, in which year he commenced the Sz’ Kí, or ‘Historical Memoirs,’ in one hundred and thirty chapters. In this great work, which, like the Muses of Herodotus in Greek, forms the commencement of credible modern history with the Chinese, the author relates the actions of the Emperors in regular succession and the principal events which happened during their reigns, together with details and essays respecting music, astronomy, religious ceremonies, weights, public works, etc., and the changes they had undergone during the twenty-two centuries embraced in his Memoirs. It is stated by Rémusat that there are in the whole work five hundred and twenty-six thousand five hundred characters, for the Chinese, like the ancient Hebrews, number the words in their standard authors. The Sz’ Kí is in five parts, and its arrangement has served as a model for subsequent historians, few of whom have equalled its author in the vivacity of their style or carefulness of their research.
The General Mirror to Aid in Governing, by Sz’ma Kwang, of the Sung dynasty, in two hundred and ninety-four chapters, is one of the best digested and most lucid annals that Chinese scholars have produced, embracing the period between the end of the Tsin to the beginning of the Sung dynasty (A.D. 313 to 960). Both the historians Sz’ma Tsien and Sz’ma Kwang filled high offices in the State, were both alternately disgraced and honored, and were mixed up with all the political movements of the day. Rémusat speaks in terms of deserved commendation of their writings, and to a notice of their works adds some account of their lives. One or two incidents in the career of Sz’ma Kwang exhibit a readiness of action and freedom in expressing his sentiments which are more common among the Chinese than is usually supposed. In his youth he was standing with some companions near a large vase used to rear gold fish, when one of them fell in. Too terrified themselves to do anything, all but young Kwang ran to seek succor; he looked around for a stone with which to break the vase and let the water flow out, and thus saved the life of his companion. In subsequent life the same common sense was joined with a boldness which led him to declare his sentiments on all occasions. Some southern people once sent a present to the Emperor of a strange quadruped, which his flatterers said was the mythological kí-lin of happy omen. Sz’ma Kwang, being consulted on the matter, replied: “I have never seen the kí-lin, therefore I cannot tell whether this be one or not. What I do know is that the real kí-lin could never be brought hither by foreigners; he appears of himself when the State is well governed.”[330] An extension of this great work by Lí Tao, of the Sung dynasty, in five hundred and twenty books, gave their countrymen a fair account of the thirty-six centuries of their national fortunes; and the digest under Chu Hí’s direction has made them still more accessible and famous to succeeding ages.
Few works in Chinese literature are more popular than a historical novel by Chin Shau, about A.D. 350, called the San Kwoh Chí, or ‘History of the Three States;’ its scenes are laid in the northern parts of China, and include the period between A.D. 170 and 317, when several ambitious chieftains conspired against the imbecile princes of the once famous Han dynasty, and, after that was overthrown, fought among themselves until the Empire was again reconsolidated under the Tsin dynasty. This performance, from its double character and the long period over which it extends, necessarily lacks that unity which a novel should have. Its charms, to a Chinese, consist in the animated descriptions of plots and counterplots, in the relations of battles, sieges, and retreats, and the admirable manner in which the characters are delineated and their acts intermixed with entertaining episodes. The work opens with describing the distracted state of the Empire under the misrule of Ling tí and Hwan tí, the last two monarchs of the House of Han (147 to 184), who were entirely swayed by eunuchs, and left the administration of government to reckless oppressors, until ambitious men, taking advantage of the general discontent, raised the standard of rebellion. The leaders ordered their partisans to wear yellow head-dresses, whence the rebellion was called that of the Yellow Caps, and was suppressed only after several years of hard struggle by a few distinguished generals who upheld the throne. Among these was Tung Choh, who, gradually drawing to himself all the power in the State, thereby arrayed against himself others equally ambitious and unscrupulous. Disorganization had not yet proceeded so far that all hope of supporting the rightful throne had left the minds of its adherents, among whom was Wang Yun, a chancellor of the Empire, who, seeing the danger of the State, devised a scheme to inveigle Tung Choh to his ruin, which is thus narrated:
One day Tung Choh gave a great entertainment to the officers of government. When the wine had circulated several times, Lü Pu (his adopted son) whispered something in his ear, whereupon he ordered the attendants to take Chang Wăn from the table into the hall below, and presently one of them returned, handing up his head in a charger. The spirits of all present left their bodies, but Tung, laughing, said, “Pray, sirs, do not be alarmed. Chang Wăn has been leaguing with Yuen Shuh how to destroy me; a messenger just now brought a letter for him, and inadvertently gave it to my son; for which he has lost his life. You, gentlemen, have no cause for dread.” All the officers replied, “Yes! Yes!” and immediately separated.
Chancellor Wang Yun returned home in deep thought: “The proceedings of this day’s feast are enough to make my seat an uneasy one;” and taking his cane late at night he walked out in the moonlight into his rear garden, when standing near a rose arbor and weeping as he looked up, he heard a person sighing and groaning within the peony pavillion. Carefully stepping and watching, he saw it was Tiau Chen, a singing-girl belonging to the house, who had been taken into his family in early youth and taught to sing and dance; she was now sixteen, and both beautiful and accomplished, and Wang treated her as if she had been his own daughter.
Listening some time, he spoke out, “What underhand plot are you at now, insignificant menial?” Tiau Chen, much alarmed, kneeling, said, “What treachery can your slave dare to devise?” “If you have nothing secret, why then are you here late at night sighing in this manner?” Tiau replied, “Permit your handmaid to declare her inmost thoughts. I am very grateful for your excellency’s kind nurture, for teaching me singing and dancing, and for the treatment I have received. If my body should be crushed to powder [in your service], I could not requite a myriad to one [for these favors]. But lately I have seen your eyebrows anxiously knit, doubtless from some State affairs, though I presumed not to ask; this evening, too, I saw you restless in your seat. On this account I sighed, not imagining your honor was overlooking me. If I can be of the least use, I would not decline the sacrifice of a thousand lives.” Wang, striking his cane on the ground, exclaimed, “Who would have thought the rule of Han was lodged in your hands! Come with me into the picture-gallery.” Tiau Chen following in, he ordered his females all to retire, and placing her in a seat, turned himself around and did her obeisance. She, much surprised, prostrated herself before him, and asked the reason of such conduct, to which he replied, “You are able to compassionate all the people in the dominions of Han.” His words ended, the tears gushed like a fountain. She added, “I just now said, if I can be of any service I will not decline, though I should lose my life.”
Wang, kneeling, rejoined, “The people are in most imminent danger, and the nobility in a hazard like that of eggs piled up; neither can be rescued without your assistance. The traitor Tung Choh wishes soon to seize the throne, and none of the civil or military officers have any practicable means of defence. He has an adopted son, Lü Pu, a remarkably daring and brave man, who, like himself, is the slave of lust. Now I wish to contrive a scheme to inveigle them both, by first promising to wed you to Lü, and then offering you to Tung, while you must seize the opportunity to raise suspicions in them, and slander one to the other so as to sever them, and cause Lü to kill Tung, whereby the present great evils will be terminated, the throne upheld, and the government re-established. All this is in your power, but I do not know how the plan strikes you.” Tiau answered, “I have promised your excellency my utmost service, and you may trust me that I will devise some good scheme when I am offered to them.”
“You must be aware that if this design leaks out, we shall all be utterly exterminated.” “Your excellency need not be anxious, and if I do not aid in accomplishing your patriotic designs, let me die a thousand deaths.”
Wang, bowing, thanked her. The next day, taking several of the brilliant pearls preserved in the family, he ordered a skilful workman to inlay them into a golden coronet, which he secretly sent as a present to Lü Pu. Highly gratified, Lü himself went to Wang’s house to thank him, where a well-prepared feast of viands and wine awaited his arrival. Wang went out to meet him, and waiting upon him into the rear hall, invited him to sit at the top of the table, but Lü objected: “I am only a general in the prime minister’s department, while your excellency is a high minister in his Majesty’s court—why this mistaken respect?”
Wang rejoined, “There is no hero in the country now besides you; I do not pay this honor to your office, but to your talents.” Lü was excessively pleased. Wang ceased not in engaging him to drink, the while speaking of Tung Choh’s high qualities, and praising his guest’s virtues, who, on his side, wildly laughed for joy. Most of the attendants were ordered to retire, a few waiting-maids stopping to serve out wine, when, being half drunk, he ordered them to tell the young child to come in. Shortly after, two pages led in Tiau Chen, gorgeously dressed, and Lü, much astonished, asked, “Who is this?”
“It is my little daughter, Tiau Chen, whom I have ordered to come in and see you, for I am very grateful for your honor’s misapplied kindness to me, which has been like that to near relatives.” He then bade her present a goblet of wine to him, and, as she did so, their eyes glanced to and from each other.
Wang, feigning to be drunk, said: “The child strongly requests your honor to drink many cups; my house entirely depends upon your excellency.” Lü requested her to be seated, but she acting as if about to retire, Wang remarked, “The general is my intimate friend; be seated, my child; what are you afraid of?” She then sat down at his side, while Lü’s eyes never strayed from their gaze upon her, drinking and looking.
Wang, pointing to Tiau, said to Lü, “I wish to give this girl to you as a concubine, but know not whether you will receive her?” Lü, leaving the table to thank him, said, “If I could obtain such a girl as this, I would emulate the requital dogs and horses give for the care taken of them.”
Wang rejoined, “I will immediately select a lucky day, and send her to your house.” Lü was delighted beyond measure, and never took his eyes off her, while Tiau herself, with ogling glances, intimated her passion. The feast shortly after broke up, and Lü departed.
The scheme here devised was successful, and Tung Choh was assassinated by his son when he was on his way to depose the monarch. His death, however, brought no peace to the country, and three chieftains, Tsau Tsau, Liu Pí, and Sun Kiuen, soon distinguished themselves in their struggles for power, and afterward divided the Empire into the three States of Wu, Shuh, and Wei, from which the work derives its name. Many of the personages who figure in this work have since been deified, among whom are Liu Pí’s sworn brother Kwan Yü, who is now the Mars (Kwan tí), and Hwa To, the Esculapius, of Chinese mythology. Its scenes and characters have all been fruitful subjects for the pencil and the pen of artists and poetasters. One commentator has gone so far as to incorporate his reflections in the body of the text itself, in the shape of such expressions as “Wonderful speech! What rhodomontade! This man was a fool before, and shows himself one now!” Davis likens this work to the Iliad for its general arrangement and blustering character of the heroes; it was composed when the scenes described and their leading actors existed chiefly in personal recollection, and the remembrances of both were fading away in the twilight of popular legends.
Among the numerous historians of China, only a few would repay the labor of an entire translation, but many would furnish good materials for extended epitomes. Among these are the Tso Chuen, already noticed; the Anterior Han Dynasty, by Pan Ku and his sister; the Wei Shu, by Wei Shau (A.D. 386-556); and the works of Sz’ma Kwang. In addition to the dynastic histories, numerous similar works classified under the heads of annals and complete records in two sections of this division would furnish much authentic material for the foreign archæologist. The most valuable relic after the Chun Tsiu, of a historic character, is the “Bamboo Books,” reported to have been found in a tomb in Honan, A.D. 279; it gives a chronological list down to B.C. 299, with incidents interspersed, and bears many internal evidences of genuineness. Legge and Biot have each translated it.[331]
Biographies of distinguished men and women are numerous, and their preparation forms a favorite branch of literary labor. It is noticeable to observe the consideration paid to literary women in these memoirs, and the praises bestowed upon discreet mothers whose talented children are considered to be the criteria of their careful training. One work of this class is in one hundred and twenty volumes, called Sing Pu, but it does not possess the incident and animation which are found in some less formal biographical dictionaries. The Lieh Nü Chuen, or ‘Memoirs of Distinguished Ladies’ of ancient times, by Liu Hiang, B.C. 125, is often cited by writers on female education who wish to show how women were anciently trained to the practice of every virtue and accomplishment. If a Chinese author cannot quote a case to illustrate his position at least eight or ten centuries old, he thinks half its force abated by its youth. Biographical works are almost as numerous as statistical, and afford one of the best sources for studying the national character; some of them, like the lives of Washington or Cromwell in our own literature, combine both history and biography.
Some of the statistical and geographical works mentioned in this division are noticed on p. 49. Among those on the Constitution is the ‘Complete Antiquarian Researches’ of Ma Twan-lin (A.D. 1275), in three hundred and forty-eight chapters. It forms a most extensive and profound work, containing researches upon every matter relating to government, and extending through a series of dynasties which held the throne nearly forty centuries. Rémusat goes so far as to say: “This excellent work is a library by itself, and if Chinese literature possessed no other, the language would be worth learning for the sake of reading this alone.” No book has been more drawn upon by Europeans for information concerning matters relating to Eastern Asia than this; Visdelou and De Guignes took from it much of their information relating to the Tartars and Huns; and Pingsé extracted his account of the comets and ærolites from its pages, besides some geographical and ethnographical papers. Rémusat often made use of its stores, and remarks that many parts merit an entire translation, which can be said, indeed, of few Chinese authors. A supplement prepared and published in 1586 by Wang Kí brings it down to that date. A further revision was issued under imperial patronage in 1772, and a final one not long afterward, continuing the narrative to the reign of Kanghí.[332] It elevates our opinion of a nation whose literature can boast of a work like this, exhibiting such patient investigation and candid comparison of authorities, such varied research and just discrimination of what is truly important, and so extensive a mass of facts and opinions upon every subject of historic interest. Although there be no quotations in it from Roman or Greek classic authors, and the ignorance of the compiler of what was known upon the same subjects in other countries disqualified him from giving his remarks the completeness they would otherwise have had, yet when the stores of knowledge from western lands are made known to a people whose scholars can produce such works as this, the Memoirs of Sz’ma Tsien, and others equally good, it may reasonably be expected that they will not lack in industry or ability to carry on their researches.
The third division of Tsz’ Pu, ‘Scholastic’ or ‘Professional Writings,’ is arranged under fourteen sections, viz.: Philosophical, Military, Legal, Agricultural, Medical, Mathematical, and Magical writings, works on the Liberal Arts, Collections, Miscellanies, Encyclopædias, Novels, and treatises on the tenets of the Buddhists and Rationalists. The first section is called Jü Kia Lui, meaning the ‘Works of the Literary Family,’ under which name is included those who maintain, discuss, and teach the tenets of the sages, although they may not accept all that Confucius taught. This class of books is worthy of far more examination than foreigners have hitherto given to it, and they will find that Chinese philosophers have discussed morals, government, cosmogony, and like subjects, with a freedom and acuteness that has not been credited to them.
It was during the Sung dynasty, when Europe was utterly lethargic and unprogressive, that China showed a marvellous mental activity, and received from Ching, Chu, Chau, and their disciples a molding and conservative influence which has remained to this day. An extract from a discussion by Chu Hí will show the way in which he reasons on the primum mobile.
Under the whole heaven there is no primary matter (lí) without the immaterial principle (kí), and no immaterial principle apart from the primary matter. Subsequent to the existence of the immaterial principle is produced primary matter, which is deducible from the axiom that the one male and the one female principle of nature may be denominated tao or logos (the active principle from which all things emanate); thus nature is spontaneously possessed of benevolence and righteousness (which are included in the idea of tao).
First of all existed tien lí, (the celestial principle or soul of the universe), and then came primary matter; primary matter accumulated constituted chih (body, substance, or the accidents and qualities of matter), and nature was arranged.
Should any ask whether the immaterial principle or primary matter existed first, I should say that the immaterial principle on assuming a figure ascended, and primary matter on assuming form descended; when we come to speak of assuming form and ascending or descending, how can we divest ourselves of the idea of priority and subsequence? When the immaterial principle does not assume a form, primary matter then becomes coarse, and forms a sediment.
Originally, however, no priority or subsequence can be predicated of the immaterial principle and primary matter, and yet if you insist on carrying out the reasoning to the question of their origin, then you must say that the immaterial principle has the priority; but it is not a separate and distinct thing; it is just contained in the centre of the primary matter, so that were there no primary matter, then this immaterial principle would have no place of attachment. Primary matter consists, in fact, of the four elements of metal, wood, water, and fire, while the immaterial principle is no other than the four cardinal virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom....
Should any one ask for an explanation of the assertion that the immaterial principle has first existence, and after that comes primary matter, I say, it is not necessary to speak thus: but when we know that they are combined, is it that the immaterial principle holds the precedence, and the primary matter the subsequence, or is it that the immaterial principle is subsequent to the primary matter? We cannot thus carry our reasoning; but should we endeavor to form some idea of it, then we may suppose that the primary matter relies on the immaterial principle to come into action, and wherever the primary matter is coagulated, there the immaterial principle is present. For the primary matter can concrete and coagulate, act and do, but the immaterial principle has neither will nor wish, plan nor operation: but only where the primary matter is collected and coagulated, then the immaterial principle is in the midst of it. Just as in nature, men and things, grass and trees, birds and beasts, in their propagation invariably require seed, and certainly cannot without seed from nothingness produce anything; all this, then, is the primary matter, but the immaterial principle is merely a pure, empty, wide-stretched void, without form or footstep, and incapable of action or creation; but the primary matter can ferment and coagulate, collect and produce things....
Should any one ask, with regard to those expressions, “The Supreme Ruler confers the due medium on the people, and when Heaven is about to send down a great trust upon men, out of regard to the people it sets up princes over them;” and, “Heaven in producing things treats them according to their attainments: on those who do good, it sends down a hundred blessings, and on those who do evil, a hundred calamities;” and, “When Heaven is about to send down some uncommon calamity upon a generation, it first produces some uncommon genius to determine it;” do these and such like expressions imply that above the azure sky there is a Lord and Ruler who acts thus, or is it still true that Heaven has no mind, and men only carry out their reasonings in this style? I reply, these three things are but one idea; it is that the immaterial principle of order is thus. The primary matter in its evolutions hitherto, after one season of fulness has experienced one of decay; and after a period of decline it again flourishes; just as if things were going on in a circle. There never was a decay without a revival.
When men blow out their breath their bellies puff out, and when they inhale their bellies sink in, while we should have thought that at each expiration the stomach would fall in, and swell up at each inspiration; but the reason of it is that when men expire, though the mouthful of breath goes out, the second mouthful is again produced, therefore the belly is puffed up; and when men inspire, the breath which is introduced from within drives the other out, so that the belly sinks in. Lau-tsz’ said nature is like an open pipe or bag; it moves, and yet is not compelled to stop, it is empty, and still more comes out; just like a fan-case open at both ends....
The great extreme (tai kih) is merely the immaterial principle. It is not an independent separate existence; it is found in the male and female principles of nature, in the five elements, in all things; it is merely an immaterial principle, and because of its extending to the extreme limit, is therefore called the great extreme. If it were not for it, heaven and earth would not have been set afloat.... From the time when the great extreme came into operation, all things were produced by transformation. This one doctrine includes the whole; it was not because this was first in existence and then that, but altogether there is only one great origin, which from the substance extends to the use, and from the subtle reaches to that which is manifest. Should one ask, because all things partake of it, is the great extreme split up and divided? I should reply, that originally there is only one great extreme (anima mundi), of which all things partake, so that each one is provided with a great extreme; just as the moon in the heavens is only one, and yet is dispersed over the hills and lakes, being seen from every place in succession; still you cannot say that the moon is divided.
The great extreme has neither residence, nor form, nor place which you can assign to it. If you speak of it before its development, then previous to that emanation it was perfect stillness; motion and rest, with the male and female principles of nature, are only the embodiment and descent of this principle. Motion is the motion of the great extreme, and rest is its rest, but these same motion and rest are not to be considered the great extreme itself.... Should any one ask, what is the great extreme? I should say, it is simply the principle of extreme goodness and extreme perfection. Every man has a great extreme, everything has one; that which Chao-tsz’ called the great extreme is the exemplified virtue of everything that is extremely good and perfect in heaven and earth, men and things.
The great extreme is simply the extreme point, beyond which one cannot go; that which is most elevated, most mysterious, most subtle, and most divine, beyond which there is no passing. Lienkí was afraid lest people should think that the great extreme possessed form, and therefore called it the boundless extreme, a principle centred in nothing, and having an infinite extent.... It is the immaterial principle of the two powers, the four forms, and the eight changes of nature; we cannot say that it does not exist, and yet no form or corporeity can be ascribed to it. From this point is produced the one male and the one female principle of nature, which are called the dual powers; the four forms and eight changes also proceed from this, all according to a certain natural order, irrespective of human strength in its arrangement. But from the time of Confucius no one has been able to get hold of this idea.[333]
And, it might be added, no one ever will be able to “get hold” thereof. Such discussions as this have occupied the minds and pens of Chinese metaphysicians for centuries, and in their endeavors to explain the half-digested notions of the Book of Changes, they have wandered far away from the road which would have led them in the path of true knowledge, namely, the observation and record of the works and operations of nature around them; and one after another they have continued to roll this stone of Sisyphus until fatigue and bewilderment have come over them all. Some works on female education are found in this section, which seems designed as much to include whatever philosophers wrote as all they wrote on philosophy.
The second and third sections, on military and legal subjects, contain no writings of any eminence. The isolation of the Chinese prevented them from studying the various forms of government and jurisprudence observed in other countries and ages; it is this feature of originality which renders their legislation so interesting to western students. Among the fourth, on agricultural treatises, is the Kăng Chih Tu Shí, or ‘Plates and Odes on Tillage and Weaving,’ a thin quarto, which was written A.D. 1210, and has been widely circulated by the present government in order “to evince its regard for the people’s support.” The first half contains twenty-three plates on the various processes to be followed in raising rice, the last of which represents the husbandmen and their families returning thanks to the gods of the land for a good harvest, and offering a portion of the fruits of the earth; the last plate in the second part of the work also represents a similar scene of returning thanks for a good crop of silk, and presenting an offering to the gods. The drawings in this work are among the best for perspective and general composition which Chinese art has produced; probably their merit was the chief inducement to publish the work at governmental expense, for the odes are too brief to contain much information, and too difficult to be generally understood. The Encyclopedia of Agriculture, by Sü Kwang-kí, a high officer in 1600, better known as Paul Sü, gives a most elaborate detail of farming operations and utensils existing in the Ming. Other treatises on special topics and crops have been written, but it is the untiring industry of the people which secures to them the best returns from the soil, for they owe very little to science or machinery.
Among the numerous writings published for the improvement and instruction of the people by their rulers, none have been more influential than the Shing Yu, or ‘Sacred Commands,’ a politico-moral treatise, which has been made known to English readers by the translation of Dr. Milne.[334] The groundwork consists of sixteen apothegms, written by the Emperor Kanghí, containing general rules for the peace, prosperity, and wealth of all classes of his subjects. In order that none should plead ignorance in excuse for not knowing the Sacred Commands, it is by law required that they be proclaimed throughout the Empire by the local officers on the first and fifteenth day of every month, in a public hall set apart for the purpose, where the people are not only permitted, but requested and encouraged, to attend. In point of fact, however, this political preaching, as it has been called, is neglected except in large towns, though the design is not the less commendable. It is highly praiseworthy to monarchs, secure in their thrones as Kanghí and Yungching were, to take upon themselves the teaching of morality to their subjects, and institute a special service every fortnight to have their precepts communicated to them. If, too, it should soon be seen that their designs had utterly failed of all real good results from the mendacity of their officers and the ignorance or opposition of the people, still the merit due them is not diminished. The sixteen apothegms, each consisting of seven characters, are as follows:
The amplifications of these maxims by Yungching contain much information respecting the theory of his government, and the position of the writer entitles him to speak from knowledge; his amplification of the fourteenth maxim shows their character.
From of old the country was divided into districts, and a tribute paid proportioned to the produce of the land. From hence arose revenues, upon which the expense of the five lí, and the whole charges of government depended. These expenses a prince must receive from the people, and they are what inferiors should offer to superiors. Both in ancient and modern times this principle has been the same and cannot be changed. Again, the expenses of the salaries of magistrates that they may rule our people; of pay to the army that they may protect them; of preparing for years of scarcity that they may be fed; as all these are collected from the Empire, so they are all employed for its use. How then can it be supposed that the granaries and treasury of the sovereign are intended to injure the people that he may nourish himself? Since the establishment of our dynasty till now, the proportions of the revenue have been fixed by an universally approved statute, and all unjust items completely cancelled; not a thread or hair too much has been demanded from the people. In the days of our sacred Father, the Emperor Pious, his abounding benevolence and liberal favor fed this people upward of sixty years. Daily desirous to promote their abundance and happiness, he greatly diminished the revenue, not limiting the reduction to hundreds, thousands, myriads, or lacs of taels. The mean and the remote have experienced his favor; even now it enters the muscles, and penetrates to the marrow. To exact with moderation, diminish the revenue, and confer favors on the multitude, are the virtues of a prince: to serve superiors, and to give the first place to public service and second to their own, are the duties of a people. Soldiers and people should all understand this. Become not lazy and trifling, nor prodigally throw away your property. Linger not to pay in the revenue, looking and hoping for some unusual occurrence to avoid it, nor entrust your imposts to others, lest bad men appropriate them to their own use.
Pay in at the terms, and wait not to be urged. Then with the overplus you can nourish your parents, complete the marriages of your children, satisfy your daily wants, and provide for the annual feasts and sacrifices. District officers may then sleep at ease in their public halls, and villagers will no longer be vexed in the night by calls from the tax-gatherers; on neither hand will any be involved. Your wives and children will be easy and at rest, than which you have no greater joy. If unaware of the importance of the revenue to government, and that the laws must be enforced, perhaps you will positively refuse or deliberately put off the payment, when the magistrates, obliged to balance their accounts, and give in their reports at stated times, must be rigorously severe. The assessors, suffering the pain of the whip, cannot help indulging their rapacious demands on you; knocking and pecking at your doors like hungry hawks, they will devise numerous methods of getting their wants supplied. These nameless ways of spending will probably amount to more than the sum which ought to have been paid, and that sum, after all, cannot be dispensed with.
We know not what benefit can accrue from this. Rather than give presents to satisfy the rapacity of policemen, how much better to clear off the just assessments! Rather than prove an obstinate race and refuse the payment of the revenue, would it not be better to keep the law? Every one, even the most stupid, knows this. Furthermore, when superiors display benevolence, inferiors should manifest justice; this belongs to the idea of their being one body. Reflect that the constant labors and cares of the palace are all to serve the people. When freshes occur, dikes must be raised to restrain them; if the demon of drought appear, prayer must be offered for rain: when the locusts come, they must be destroyed. If the calamities be averted, you reap the advantage; but if they overwhelm you, your taxes are forborne, and alms liberally expended for you. If it be thus, and the people still can suffer themselves to evade the payment of taxes and hinder the supply of government, how, I ask, can you be easy? Such conduct is like that of an undutiful son. We use these repeated admonitions, only wishing you, soldiers and people, to think of the army and nation, and also of your persons and families. Then abroad you will have the fame of faithfulness, and at home peacefully enjoy its fruits. Officers will not trouble you, nor their clerks vex you—what joy equal to this! O soldiers and people, meditate on these things in the silent night, and let all accord with our wishes.[335]
Wang Yu-pí, a high officer under Yungching, paraphrased the amplifications in a colloquial manner. His remarks on the doctrines of the Buddhists and Rationalists will serve as an illustration; the quotation here given is found under the seventh maxim.
You simple people know not how to discriminate; for even according to what the books of Buddha say, he was the first-born son of the king Fan; but, retiring from the world, he fled away alone to the top of the Snowy Mountains, in order to cultivate virtue. If he regarded not his own father, mother, wife, and children, are you such fools as to suppose that he regards the multitude of the living, or would deliver his laws and doctrines to you? The imperial residence, the queen’s palace, the dragon’s chamber, and halls of state—if he rejected these, is it not marvellous to suppose that he should delight in the nunneries, monasteries, temples, and religious houses which you can build for him? As to the Gemmeous Emperor, the most honorable in heaven, if there be indeed such a god, it is strange to think he should not enjoy himself at his own ease in the high heavens, but must have you to give him a body of molten gold, and build him a house to dwell in!
All these nonsensical tales about keeping fasts, collecting assemblies, building temples, and fashioning images, are feigned by those sauntering, worthless priests and monks to deceive you. Still you believe them, and not only go yourselves to worship and burn incense in the temples, but also suffer your wives and daughters to go. With their hair oiled and faces painted, dressed in scarlet and trimmed with green, they go to burn incense in the temples, associating with the priests of Buddha, doctors of Reason and bare-stick attorneys, touching shoulders, rubbing arms, and pressed in the moving crowd. I see not where the good they talk of doing is; on the contrary, they do many shameful things that create vexation, and give people occasion for laughter and ridicule.
Further, there are some persons who, fearing that their good boys and girls may not attain to maturity, take and give them to the temples to become priests and priestesses of Buddha and Reason, supposing that after having removed them from their own houses and placed them at the foot of grandfather Fuh (Buddha), they are then sure of prolonging life! Now, I would ask you if those who in this age are priests of these sects, all reach the age of seventy or eighty, and if there is not a short-lived person among them?
Again, there is another very stupid class of persons who, because their parents are sick, pledge their own persons by a vow before the gods that if their parents be restored to health, they will worship and burn incense on the hills, prostrating themselves at every step till they arrive at the summit, whence they will dash themselves down! If they do not lose their lives, they are sure to break a leg or an arm. They say to themselves, “To give up our own lives to save our parents is the highest display of filial duty.” Bystanders also praise them as dutiful children, but they do not consider that to slight the bodies received from their parents in this manner discovers an extreme want of filial duty.
Moreover, you say that serving Fuh is a profitable service; that if you burn paper money, present offerings, and keep fasts before the face of your god Fuh, he will dissipate calamities, blot out your sins, increase your happiness, and prolong your age! Now reflect: from of old it has been said, “The gods are intelligent and just.” Were Buddha a god of this description, how could he avariciously desire your gilt paper, and your offerings to engage him to afford you protection? If you do not burn gilt paper to him, and spread offerings on his altar, the god Fuh will be displeased with you, and send down judgments on you! Then your god Fuh is a scoundrel! Take, for example, the district magistrate. Should you never go to compliment and flatter him, yet, if you are good people and attend to your duty, he will pay marked attention to you. But transgress the law, commit violence, or usurp the rights of others, and though you should use a thousand ways and means to flatter him, he will still be displeased with you, and will, without fail, remove such pests from society.
You say that worshipping Fuh atones for your sins. Suppose you have violated the law, and are hauled to the judgment-seat to be punished; if you should bawl out several thousand times, “O your excellency! O your excellency!” do you think the magistrate would spare you? You will, however, at all risks, invite several Buddhist and Rationalist priests to your houses to recite their canonical books and make confession, supposing that to chant their mummery drives away misery, secures peace, and prolongs happiness and life. But suppose you rest satisfied with merely reading over the sections of these Sacred Commands several thousands or myriads of times without acting conformably thereto; would it not be vain to suppose that his Imperial Majesty should delight in you, reward you with money, and promote you to office?[336]
This ridicule of the popular superstitions has, no doubt, had some effect, repeated as it is in all parts of the country; but since the literati merely tear down and build up nothing, giving the people no substitute for what they take away, but rather, in their times of trouble, doing the things they decry, such homilies do not destroy the general respect for such ceremonies. The Shing Yu has also been versified for the benefit of children, and colloquial explanations added, which has further tended to enforce and inculcate its admonitions. The praise bestowed on this work by Johnson, in his Oriental Religions, has a good degree of actual usefulness among the people to confirm his observations; yet they are quite used to hearing the highest moral platitudes from their rulers, to whom they would not lend a dollar on their word.
In the fifth section, on medical writings, separate works are mentioned on the treatment of all domestic animals; among them is one on veterinary surgery, whose writers have versified most of their observations and prescriptions. The Herbal of Lí Shí-chin, noticed on p. 370, and monographs on special diseases, all show the industry of Chinese physicians to much better advantage than their science. Works on medicine and surgery are numerous, in which the surface of the body is minutely represented in pictures, together with drawings of the mode of performing various operations. Works on judicial astrology, chiromancy, and other modes of divination, on the rules for finding lucky spots for houses, graves, and temples, are exceedingly numerous, a large number of them written by Rationalists.
The eighth section, on art, contains writings on painting, music, engraving, writing, posturing, and archery, and they will doubtless furnish many new points to western artists on the principles and attainments of the Chinese in these branches when the works have been made better known.
The ninth section, entitled ‘Collections’ or ‘Repertories,’ is divided into memoirs on antiques, swords, coins, and bronzes, and presents a field of interesting research to a foreign archæologist likely to reward him. Another division, containing the monographs on tea, bamboo, floriculture, etc., is not so promising.
The tenth section, on philosophical writings, having a tinge of heterodoxy, is a very large one, and offers a rare opportunity of research to those curious to know what China can contribute to moral science. The writings of Roman Catholics and Moslems are included in this long catalogue.