1. Sympathy of the European philosophers of the eighteenth century with Khoung-fou-tseu. Though we have said that the Buddhist revolution was an effort of philosophers to free themselves from the shackles of an hereditary faith, we are quite aware that it is not to an experiment of this kind that the teachers of the last century would have turned as an encouragement and an example to themselves. Mysticism, which belonged as much to the revolters from the Brahminical system as to that system itself, inspired them with nothing but contempt. But the Eastern world supplied them with another object, on which they could bestow the most fervent and unbounded admiration. They found in Khoung-fou-tseu all that they missed in these sages of India, with an entire absence of that which was offensive in them. Reasons which justified it. They heard of a man who, six centuries B.C., considered the outward economy of an empire a worthier object of study than all hidden and abstracted lore, who prized maxims of life and conduct more than all doctrines respecting the Divinity, who had actually anticipated some of the most modern propositions respecting the governor and the governed. This man they found was not a mere name for a set of opinions: he had a distinct, marked personality; and his words and acts had not been limited to a narrow circle, or to one or two centuries. He had left an impression of himself upon the most populous empire in the world. After two thousand years his authority is still sacred among the people, the mandarins, the emperors of China; his influence is felt in every portion of that vast and complicated society.
2. Chinese history, past and present, expounded by him. Such a fact as this is worthy of all attention. Great as is the contrast between China and Hindostan—though that contrast can hardly be expressed more accurately than by saying that in India all history is a philosophy, and that in China all philosophy is a history—yet it is equally true of each people that its search after wisdom is the only satisfactory key to the events which have befallen it. The difficulty of understanding the long line of dynasties which preceded the birth of Khoung-fou-tseu, though his words and acts compel us to believe in them, is a sufficient proof of this fact. We confess the antiquity of the empire, because it is needful as an explanation of the reform which he worked in it.
3. The old Chinese faith must be learnt in a great measure from him. This being the case, we are excused from dwelling as much upon the old faith of China as we were forced to do on that of India. This faith we are obliged to examine in a great measure with the eyes of Khoung-fou-tseu: he collected and remodelled the books which contain it. He may have omitted much which seemed to him immaterial for the education of his country, and yet which, to a modern critic, might be of great use. At the same time we are not disposed to question the general accuracy of the conception which this teacher formed of the old institutions and the old creed of his country. There are abundant proofs of the fidelity with which he studied them, of the earnest desire which he had to preserve them. His dislike of innovation. No one aspired less to the reputation of an innovator; his main object was to remove innovations: yet this desire was balanced by a profound reverence for that which was established. Nothing was to be brought back for the mere purpose of bringing it back. Order was not to be sacrificed even for the hope of redressing an evil.
4. The Chinese utterly unmystical. Khoung-fou-tseu could not have produced the effect which he has produced upon the empire of China,—could not be recognised in the character in which he has been recognised for so many ages,—if his mind had not been the very highest type of the Chinese mind; that in which we may read what it was aiming at both before and after he appeared to enlighten it. The ancient takes the place of the eternal. We may therefore acquiesce without difficulty in the opinion, that the Chinese religion was from the first of a much less high and mysterious quality than that of almost any people upon the earth; that the belief of the eternal as distinct from, and opposed to, the temporal, which we have found so characteristic of the Hindoo, existed very dimly and imperfectly in it, and was supplied only by a reverence for the past; that the sense of connexion or communion with any invisible powers, though not absent, must have been weak and slightly developed; The emperor that the emperor must have been regarded always as the highest utterer of the divine mind; that the priest must have been chiefly valued as a minister of the ceremonial of the court; that rites and ceremonies must have had a substantive value in this land independent of all significance, which they have scarcely ever possessed elsewhere; that there was united with this tendency one which to some may seem incompatible with it—an attachment to whatever is useful and practical; that the Chinese must have entertained a profound respect for family relationships; The father that the relationship of father and son, however, will have so overshadowed all the rest, that they will have been regarded merely as different forms of it, or as to be sacrificed for the sake of it; Obedience the sum of virtues. that implicit obedience to authority will have been the virtue which every institution existed to enforce, which was to be their only preserver. The worship If we suppose the reverence for the shades of ancestors, for the person of the emperor, for the dignity of the father, to have been joined with something of a Sabean worship, with some astrology and speculation about the future, we shall perhaps arrive at a tolerably near conception of China as it may have existed under the old emperors, to whom the sage continually refers with admiration and regret.
5. A society built upon customs. These were habits of mind which may have been represented more or less perfectly in the characters of particular sovereigns, and which had embodied themselves in the forms of Chinese society. A tyrant might, of course, derange the whole economy of such a world. A state of things which rested merely on custom, and was upheld by observances, might quickly pass into utter confusion. “The dynasty of Yu,” says the Book of Verses, “might be compared to the Most High while it retained the affection of the people: we learn by its decline how hard it is to preserve the command of heaven.” These words must be illustrated hereafter: we quote them now merely to show where is the starting-point of the Confucian philosophy. Khoung-fou-tseu the reformer. The wisdom at which it aims is that which shall be effectual for the removal of a decayed condition of society, and the restoration of the principles that are implied in it. His wise man essentially political. We hear almost as much of the studious or meditative man in the Chinese books as in the Brahminical. Quite as earnestly as the Brahmins, and perhaps much more honestly than they, Khoung-fou-tseu speaks of the superiority of thought and study to all animal pleasures, to the pursuit of wealth, to the possession of offices. Yet no one is less of a Moonee. He began as a man of affairs—a Chinese official. The affairs of the empire were his study all his life through: he trained his disciples to take part in them. Education he looked upon as the one necessary means to good government; but all education was to be for the sake of government. To ascertain the ends of government, and the means of accomplishing those ends, was the one function of the sage.
6. The Lun-yu: discourses of Khoung-fou-tseu. Before we come to the doctrines of Khoung-fou-tseu on this subject, and show how morals and metaphysics were combined in his political science, we must try to give our readers some conception of the man himself. The third of the Chinese classical books, called the Lun-yu, or Philosophical Dialogues, is that which will be most helpful for this purpose. We have there the recorded sayings of the man, which bear far more internal evidence of genuineness than those which are commonly attributed to the founders of the Greek schools. We have also the testimonies of affectionate disciples respecting him, which, if they are not wholly to be trusted, at least give us different impressions of his character, out of which we may form one for ourselves.
7. Fancied resemblance between Khoung fou tseu and Socrates. M. Pauthier, the recent French translator of the classical books of China, to whom we are under the greatest obligations for bringing the treasures of the past within the reach of our ignorance, and whose enthusiasm for his subject is a warrant, in addition to his general European reputation, that he has really vanquished the difficulties of it, has somewhat rashly suggested a comparison between the dialogues in the Lun-yu and those in which Socrates is the hero. He is candid enough to add, that the resemblance is chiefly to the sayings which Xenophon has attributed to his master, and that it is not easy to detect the artistical beauty and form of the Platonic dialogues in their Chinese counterpart. He even admits that there is a certain monotony in the utterances of Khoung-fou-tseu, though he adds, “even this monotony has something of the serenity and the majesty of a moral instruction, which is bringing successively under our eyes the different sides of human nature contemplated from a higher ground.” The contrast between them exhibits the opposition of the east and west. Though, for ourselves, we might be glad to exchange a little of this serenity and majesty for the hearty and humorous sympathy of the Greek with all that is passing around him, we are quite willing to accept it as a characteristic of another order of genius belonging to the east rather than the west, and entitled to its own meed of respect. Modesty of Khoung-fou-tseu. And it is scarcely just to Khoung-fou-tseu to speak of him simply as looking down upon his fellow-men: there are indications in his deeds and words of fellow-feeling and real humbleness of mind. The dogma which attributes such qualities in all cases to men who have exercised a great influence over their kind, whether true or not, is certainly not contradicted in this instance.
8. That our readers may not be unacquainted with the form, such as it is, of this Chinese book, through our desire to cull choice sentences that fell from the lips of Khoung-fou-tseu, we will give the substance of one or two of the chapters which seem best to explain his character and manner of thinking:—
Love for the past. “The philosopher said, I illustrate and comment upon the old books, but I do not compose new ones. I have faith in the Ancients, I love them; I have the highest honour for our Lao-pang” [a sage of the Chang dynasty].
Ideal of a great man. “The philosopher said, To meditate in silence and to recall to one’s memory the objects of one’s meditations; to devote oneself to study, and not to be discouraged; to instruct men, and not to suffer oneself to be cast down: how shall I attain to the possession of these virtues?”
Lamentations over the age. “The philosopher said, Virtue is not cultivated; study is not pursued manfully; if the principles of justice and equity are professed they are not followed; the wicked and the perverse will not be corrected: that is the cause of my sorrow.”
Necessity of self-education. “The philosopher said, If a man does not make any effort to develope his own mind, I shall not develope it for him; if a man does not choose to make use of his faculty of speech (for the purpose of making himself intelligible), I shall not penetrate the sense of his expressions; if, after having enabled him to know one angle of a square, he does not discover the measure of the other three, I do not volunteer the demonstration.”
The philosopher an official when it is possible. “The philosopher, interrupting Yeu-youan, said to him, If we are employed in public functions, then we fulfil our duty; if we are dismissed, we have the repose of a private life. You and I are the only persons who act thus.”
Mere courage no virtue. “T’seu-leu said, ‘If you were leading three bodies of troops of 12,500 men each, which of us would you take for a lieutenant?’ The philosopher answered, ‘The man who with his own hands would engage us in a combat with a tiger,—who, without any motive, would wish to ford a river,—who would throw away his life without reason and without remorse,—I certainly would not take for my lieutenant. I should want a man who would maintain a steady vigilance in the direction of affairs, who is capable of forming plans and of executing them.’”
Riches better than mere respectability. “The philosopher said, To get riches in a fair way, I would certainly engage in a low occupation if it was necessary; if the means were not fair, I would rather apply myself to that which I delight in.”
Love of music. “The philosopher being in the kingdom of Tshi, heard the music which is called Tchao: he was so affected by it, that, for three months, he did not know the taste of his food. He said, ‘I do not fancy that, since the composition of that music, that point of perfection has been once attained.’”
How his disciples found out the mind of their master. “Yeo-yeou said, ‘Will our master help the Prince of Wei?’ Tseu-koung said, ‘I will question him upon that point.’ He went into the apartment of the master, and said, ‘What think you of Pe-i and of Chou-tsi?’ The philosopher said, ‘These men were true sages of the old world.’ He added, ‘Did not they experience any regrets?’ ‘No; they sought to acquire the virtue of humanity, and they obtained that virtue; why should they have had any regret?’ Tseu-koung went back and said, ‘Our master will not assist the Prince of Wei.’”
The wise man independent of externals. “The philosopher said, To feed upon a little rice, to drink water, to have nothing but one’s bent arm to lean upon, is a state which has its own satisfaction. To get riches and honour by unfair means seems to me like a cloud driven along by the wind.”
Study of Books. “The philosopher said, If it was granted to me to add a number of years to my life, I would ask fifty to study the Y-king, that I might render myself free from great faults.”
Khoung’s account of himself. Ye-hong questioned Tseu-leu about Khoung-fou-tseu. Tseu-leu did not answer him. “The philosopher said, Why have not you answered him? Khoung is a man who in his eagerness to acquire knowledge often forgets to take nourishment; who in the joy which he feels at having acquired it, forgets the pains which it has cost him; and who does not disturb himself at the approach of old age. Now you know about him.”
“The philosopher said, I was not born endowed with knowledge; I am a man who loved the ancients, and made all exertions to acquire their information.”
What subjects he avoided. “The philosopher never spoke in his conversation either of extraordinary things, or of civil troubles, or about spirits.”
The two teachers. “The philosopher said, If three of us were travelling together, I should necessarily find two instructors; I should choose the good man for imitation, and the bad man for correction.”
“The philosopher said, Heaven has planted virtue in me, what then can Hoan-teu do to me?”
No esoterical doctrine. “Do you fancy, my disciples, that I have any doctrines that I conceal from you? I have none. I have done nothing that I have not communicated to you, O my disciples!”
“The philosopher said, I cannot hope to see a holy man; all I can do is to see a wise one.” [The exact difference of the two will be explained hereafter.]
“The philosopher said, I cannot hope to see a man truly virtuous; all I can do is to hope to see a man constant and settled in his views.”
“To want everything, and to act as if one had abundance of possessions; to be empty, and to show oneself full; to be little, and to show oneself great—is a part very difficult to support steadily.”
Action must be the fruit of reflection. “The philosopher said, How is it that there are men who act without knowing what they do? I should not wish to behave myself so.”
“We must hear the advice of many people, choose what is good in their counsels, and follow it: see much, and reflect maturely on what one has seen; that is the second step in knowledge.”
The exclusives of his school reproved. “The inhabitants of Heou-hing were hard to teach; one of their young men had come to visit the disciples of the philosopher. They doubted whether they should receive him among them. The philosopher said, I have admitted him to come among us, I have not admitted him to go away. Whence comes this opposition on your parts? This man has purified himself, has renewed himself in order to enter my school. Praise him for having gone so far; I am not responsible for his past or future actions.”
Humanity near to us. “The philosopher said, Is humanity so far off from us? I wish to possess humanity, and humanity comes to me.”
Observation of the rites: Khoung’s ignorance “The judge of the kingdom of Tchin asked, if Tchou-king understood the rites. Khoung-fou-tseu answered, He does understand the rites. Khoung-fou-tseu having withdrawn, the judge said to On-maki, I have been told that a great man never yielded assent to the faults of others; however, a great man has done it now. The prince has married with a woman of the family On, of the same name as his own, and he has called her On-mengtsew. A prince ought to know rites and customs. He, why does not he know them? On-maki told the philosopher; who cried, What a happy man Khoung-fou-tseu is! if he commits a fault, men are sure to know it.”
What a sage may boast of. “The philosopher said, In literature I am not equal to other men. If I think of a man who unites holiness to the virtue of humanity, how could I dare to compare myself to him? All that I know is, that I force myself to practise these virtues, and to teach them to others, without being disheartened.”
Khoung-fou-tseu’s devotion. “The philosopher being very sick, Tseu-leu besought him to permit his disciples to address prayers for him to the spirits and the genii. The philosopher said, Is that the proper thing to do? Tseu-leu answered respectfully, It is the proper thing. It is said in the book called Leni, Address your prayers to the spirits and the genii above and below. The philosopher said, The prayer of Khoung-fou-tseu is constant.”
Disobedience the greatest of crimes. “The philosopher said, If a man is given to luxury he is not submissive. If he is too parsimonious, he is vile and abject. However, baseness is better than disobedience.”
The highest example of virtue. “The philosopher said, Tai-pe might be called sovereignly virtuous. I know not how anything could be added to his virtue; thrice he refused the empire, and the people saw nothing admirable in his conduct.”
How virtues became mischievous. “The philosopher said, If deference and respect towards others are not regulated by rules or by education, they are mere gratifications of our own fancy. If circumspection or vigilance are not regulated by education, they are only other names for extravagant cowardice. If manly courage is not regulated by education, it means only insubordination. If rectitude is not regulated by education, it brings the greatest confusion after it.”
What a ruler can or cannot do. “The philosopher said, We may force the people to follow the precepts of justice and reason; we cannot force it to comprehend them.”
How a man is kept in the right course. “He said, He who has an unshaken faith in truth, and who loves study passionately, preserves the principles of virtue, which are the consequences of this faith and love, to his death.”
The good and evil state. “If a state is governed by the principles of reason, poverty and misery are a cause of shame. If a state is not governed by the principles of reason, riches and honour are the subjects of shame.”
The qualities of a great man. “The philosopher said, I see no defect in Yu; he was sober in eating and drinking, and devoutly pious towards the spirits and the genii. His ordinary clothing was poor and mean; but how beautiful and glorious his robes were at the ceremonies! He inhabited a humble dwelling; but he directed all his energies to the making of trenches and cutting canals for the conveyance of waters.”
9. Some of these sentences, which follow each other nearly in the order we have given them, require illustration from other passages.
In the last sentence Yu is commended for his devotion to the spirits and genii, yet Khoung-fou-tseu seems on his sick-bed scarcely to have acknowledged their existence, or at least to have shown no faith in their power of helping him. Apparent contradiction in Khoung-fou-tseu’s faith explained. This apparent contradiction is perfectly intelligible, if we consider the third chapter of this book. His feeling about the unknown. “Some one having asked, what was the sense of the grand royal sacrifice, the philosopher said, I do not know. He who did know this sense would find everything under Heaven clear and manifest for him. He would find no more difficulty in knowing everything than in putting his finger in the palm of his hand.” Again, “when the philosopher entered into the great temple, he informed himself minutely about everything there. His reverence for the prescribed order. One who observed him cried out, Who will say now that the son of the man of Tsien knows the rites and ceremonies? see how carefully he has looked at each thing. The philosopher hearing these words, answered, I do so in conformity with the rites.” Again, “Tseu-kang wished to abolish the sacrifice of the sheep which was offered on the first day of the twelfth moon. The philosopher said, Tse, you are only engaged about the sacrifice of the sheep, I am only concerned about the ceremony.”
By reflecting on these passages, we may arrive at some judgment of the religious feelings of Khoung-fou-tseu generally. There appeared to him a mystery in the sacrifice which he could not penetrate; he was far from wishing to deny it, he would not for the world abolish the expression of it; but what it meant, he did not know, or probably seek to know. General conclusion. He valued the sacrifice not for its own sake, not for any benefit which he expected from it, but as part of an august and awful ceremonial. He worshipped the spirits and the genii because it was the ancient law, the established custom: therein consisted their sacredness in his eyes; but he did not speak of them, he had nothing to tell respecting them. It must not be concluded from this statement that he pretended to a faith, for the sake of the vulgar, which he secretly disowned, or that he looked upon the worship as a mere invention to maintain the government. His sincerity There are evidences of sincerity in his own conduct which negative the first supposition; his demand for sincerity in ministers and emperors disproves the second. The following passage might seem even to set at naught all that we have said respecting the ritualism of Khoung-fou-tseu, and to prove that he did recognize a hidden ground for those ancient customs which he so diligently preserved. “Tseu-hia asked him the meaning of these words in the Book of Verses: ‘What an agreeable smile there is upon his fine and delicate mouth! how sweet and ravishing his look! The ground of the picture must be prepared if you would paint.’ The philosopher answered, ‘You cannot lay on the colours till you have made preparation for them.’ Not a mere ritualist. ‘You hint,’ said Tseu-hia, ‘that mere ritual laws are secondary things.’ ‘You have caught my meaning,’ answered the philosopher; ‘you are beginning to understand my discourses on poetry.’” So, again, he speaks in terms of a hidden sense in the rites and ceremonies of the dynasty of Hai, which laws and the opinions of wise men did not suffice to make known. Such language leads us at once to the main principle of this eminent teacher. Ceremonies, formalities, etiquette, in one word social customs, embody the principle of reason,—the very secret of order among men. Forms, the most perfect expression of the principle of reason. This principle of reason is the divinest thing he knows of; traditional habits and forms are the most accurate expression of it. These are the great restraints upon mere self-will; adherence to them is the sign of the ruler who desires to be in sympathy with his people. The perception of what they signify is the great privilege and endowment of the wise man; that which he is to communicate, so far as he can at least without any intentional reserve, to his disciples; that which it is the great business of education to impress upon the minds both of rulers and subjects. End of education. But, after all, this wisdom cannot be expressed very much better than in the forms themselves: it must be attained by observation, practice, habitual discipline; it must come out in conduct, in gestures, in looks, as much as in words; it must be uttered, so far as it is capable of utterance, in short maxims and somewhat enigmatical poetry; which will interpret themselves slowly to the person who combines an honest purpose, diligence, and political experience.
In the same manner we must understand a phrase of very frequent occurrence in the discourses of Khoung-fou-tseu, and yet which we are told, somewhat strangely, by one of his disciples, that he did not often care to introduce. It is the word which our French guide renders, and we have every reason to suppose renders accurately, humanity. There are one or two passages in the Dialogues which show that this word had a sort of profound, almost cabalistical significance in Khoung-fou-tseu’s mind, which may account for the remark that he spoke rarely of it, though, in their reports, his disciples could not avoid frequently attributing it to him. Humanity what it means in Khoung-fou-tseu’s discourses. “Ming-wow-pe asked, ‘if T’seu-lou was humane?’ The philosopher said, ‘I do not know.’ When the same question was repeated, the philosopher answered, ‘If it was a question about commanding the military forces of a great kingdom, Tseu-lou would be capable of it; but I do not know what is his humanity.’ ‘And Kieou, what think you of him?’ ‘Well, he might be the governor of a city with a thousand houses, or of a family with a hundred chariots: I do not know what is his humanity.’ ‘And Tchi, what of him?’ A sacred word. The sage said, ‘Tchi, in an official sash, and occupying a post at the court, might be capable, with his good elocution, of introducing and handing out the guests: I do not know what is his humanity.’” We have already quoted passages from Khoung-fou-tseu which indicate his great love for music. The importance which he attached to it as an instrument of education and government is, perhaps, the one point in which it is possible to discover a resemblance between him and Plato. New music he evidently connected very closely with the sublime virtue, or complex of virtues, which he calls humanity. Music: the expression by it. Humanity imports therefore, we conceive, that order and harmony of relations in the body politic, and the corresponding order and harmony of feelings and faculties in the individual man, of which music may be considered the natural expression. A man is to love his neighbour as himself. There is a passage in which one of the disciples of Khoung-fou-tseu declares, that the doctrine of his master consists simply in having rectitude of heart, and in loving our neighbour as ourselves. M. Pauthier apologizes for giving this form to his translation, but says he could find no other so accurate. Till some greater scholar contradicts him, we are bound to accept his statement. If he supposes that those who believe that these words proceeded from higher lips will be scandalized by it, we think he mistakes the matter altogether. Can such a maxim be found in a Chinese book? Those who attach the most awful significance to the utterances of these lips, and to the Person from whom they fell, will be the least disposed to look upon him as the propounder of great maxims, and not rather as the giver of a new life; will be the least likely to grudge a Chinese teacher any glimpses which may have been vouchsafed to him of that which the true regenerator of humanity should effect for it.
The command of heaven. Connected with this phrase is another to which we have alluded already, and which is also one of the key phrases of the Confucian system; one also of those which its propounder seems always to have uttered with hesitation and diffidence. The philosopher, it is said, spoke rarely of destiny or of the command of heaven. Perhaps the philosopher did not know precisely what he meant by heaven; but he did know that he meant something which was real, and not imaginary. It is consistent with the character which we have attributed to the original Chinese worship, and with the character of his own mind, that he should have been profoundly impressed with the order of the heavenly bodies—with the evenness, calmness, steadfastness, which the succession of day and night reveals to us. The order of nature and of human society. Such an order he desired and sought for in the transactions of human society. Such an order he believed that the imperial dignity was intended to represent and uphold. It was executing the mandate of heaven when it actually presented the image of this order; disobeying the mandate of heaven when it forgot this principle, and promoted or permitted derangement or confusion. Responsibility of the emperor, A direct responsibility then in the emperor is presumed by Khoung-fou-tseu; but to whom? A number of expressions which recognize the misery that ensues in the government when the sovereign forgets his relations and duties to the governed, lead his modern interpreters continually to hope that he may have a dream of responsibility to the popular voice. Not to the people, Such a notion, however plausibly supported by certain sentences, we believe outrages the whole principle and history of the Confucian doctrine. The emperor could not have transgressed the commandment of heaven more in the mind of the philosopher than by forgetting that he was an emperor and confessing he was a subject. Not to any divine person, But responsibility to an actual living Being, who could call the emperor to account for his conduct, is equally out of the question. Homage to a principle, a law, to the idea of duty, is what remains, and this it was which Khoung-fou-tseu, by all his education and discipline, was labouring to realize in his own heart and in the hearts of others. But to the law, or the sense of duty. He had a wise consciousness of its vagueness; he felt the necessity of connecting it with some superior order, even if it was but a natural order: he did not like to say what the emperor obeyed, yet he must feel, and even declare, that he, like all other men, nay because he was the first of men, lived by obedience. Here is the point in which the personal convictions of the teacher became identical with his political philosophy, of which it behoves us now to render a more exact account.
10. Extracts from the Tchoung Young. Idea of good government. “Ngrâi-Koung questioned Khoung-fou-tseu on the constitutive principles of a good government. The philosopher said, The laws of the kings Wen and Wou were consigned to bamboo tablets; if their ministers were living now their laws would be in vigour: their ministers have ceased to be, and their principles of good government are no longer followed. The combined virtues and qualities of the ministers of a prince make the administration of a state good, as the virtue of the earth, uniting the moist and the dry, gives forth and causes to grow the plants which cover its surface. Depends mainly upon administration. This good administration resembles the reeds which are on the borders of rivers: it springs up naturally on a soil that is suitable to it…. Who can choose good ministers. A prince who wishes to imitate the old administration of the kings must choose his ministers according to his own sentiments, which must be always inspired by the public good. That his sentiments may always have the public good for their moving principle, he must conform himself to the great law of duty, and this great law of duty must be searched for in humanity, which is the principle of love for all men. This humanity is man himself: regard for relations is the first duty of it.
What is necessary in a prince. “The prince can never cease to correct himself and bring himself to perfection. Having the purpose of correcting and perfecting himself, he cannot dispense with the rendering to his relations that which is due to them. Having the purpose of rendering to his relations that which is due to them, he cannot dispense with the acquaintance of wise men, that he may honour them, and that they may instruct him in his duties. Having the purpose of obtaining the acquaintance of wise men, he cannot dispense with the knowledge of heaven, nor with the law which directs in the practice of prescribed duties.
The five human duties. “The most universal duties for the human race are five, and the man possesses three natural faculties for practising them. The five duties are: the relations which subsist between the prince and his ministers, the father and his children, the husband and his wife, the elder and younger brother, and those of friends among themselves. Conscience, which is the light of intelligence to distinguish good and evil; humanity, which is the equity of the heart; moral courage, which is the force of the soul,—these are the three grand and universal moral faculties of the man.
Results more important than the method of arriving at them. “Whether nature is sufficient for the knowledge of these universal duties, whether study is necessary to apprehend them, whether the knowledge is arrived at with great difficulty or not—when one has got the knowledge, the result is the same. Whether we practise these duties naturally and without effort, whether we practise them for the sake of getting profit and personal advantage from them—when we have succeeded in accomplishing useful works, the result is the same.
Practice leads to knowledge. “He who loves study, or the application of his intelligence to the search of the law of duty, is very near to acquire moral science. He who devotes all his efforts to practise his moral duties is near that devotion to the happiness of man which is called humanity. He who knows how to blush for his weakness in the practice of his duties is very near to acquire the force of mind necessary to their accomplishment.
How to make the condition of an empire blessed and enviable. “So soon as the prince shall have well regulated and improved himself, straightway the universal duties will be accomplished towards him. So soon as he shall have learnt to revere wise men, straightway he will have no longer any doubt about the principles of truth and falsehood, of good and evil; so soon as his parents shall be the objects of the affection which is due to them, straightway there will be no more discussions between his uncles, his elder brothers and his younger brothers; so soon as he shall treat, as it becomes him, secondary functionaries and magistrates, the doctors and literary men will zealously acquit themselves of their duties in the seminaries; so soon as he shall love and treat the people as his son, the people will be drawn to imitate its superior; so soon as he shall have drawn about him all the savans and the artists, his wealth will be advantageously spent; so soon as he shall entertain agreeably the men who come from a distance, straightway will men from the four ends of the empire flock in crowds into his state, to receive part in his benefits; so soon as he shall treat with kindness his great vassals, straightway he will be respected throughout the whole empire.”
We must not separate these political axioms from the following, which are more purely moral:—
Resolution the greatest element of action. “All virtuous actions, all duties which have been resolved beforehand, are thereby accomplished; if they are not resolved upon, they are thereby in a state of infraction. If we have determined beforehand the words which we must speak, we shall not hesitate. If we have determined beforehand our affairs and occupations in the world, they will thereby be easily accomplished.
Perfection. “The perfect, the true, disengaged from all mixture, is the law of heaven. The process of perfection, which consists in using all one’s efforts to discover the celestial law, the true principle of the mandate of heaven,—this is the law of man. The saint and the sage. The perfect man attains this law without help from without; he has no need of meditation, or long reflection to obtain it; he arrives at it with calmness and tranquillity. This is the holy man. He who is continually tending towards perfection, who attaches himself strongly to the good, and fears to lose it, is the sage.”
11. The leading principle of this philosophy. These extracts are taken from the second of the classical books which bear the general title of “The Invariable in the Mean.” In the opinion of the Chinese, it contains the very essence of all philosophy—that which belongs to the great school, for which the first school—what may be called the school of custom or etiquette—is the vestibule. As we shall so often have to deal with the doctrine of the mean or middle in the schools of the West, it is as well that we should ascertain, as nearly as we can, what anticipation there is of it in the passages we have quoted from the Tchoung-Young.
Form of its proportions. Our readers will not have failed to have been struck with the form in which the Confucian maxims evolve themselves. The sorites. The sorites, says M. Pauthier, is clearly a Chinese invention. To be a good emperor, you must be a good friend; to be a good friend, you must be a good son; to be a good son, you must know the law of right, &c. This is the mode in which the sage seems naturally and habitually to deliver himself.
The straight line. Each duty involves another. What is the first duty from which all derive their sanction—the performance of which makes the performance of the others possible? It is difficult to find: often we seem to be moving in a circle. But evidently all duties involve a rule. To be right is to be regular. Irregularity must be the common expression for the violation of all relations. But irregularity is clearly the effect of some bias determining us to one side or another. The mean. The law of rectitude, then, must be the law of the mean. All study and discipline must be for the preservation of this. “Before joy, satisfaction, anger, sorrow, have been produced in the soul [says our book], the state in which we are found is called the mean. When once they have been produced in the soul, and they have not transgressed certain limits, the state in which we are is called harmonic. This Mean is the grand foundation of the world. The harmonic state. Harmony is the universal and permanent law of it. When the Mean and the harmony have been carried to the point of perfection, heaven and earth are in a state of perfect tranquillity, and all beings receive their full development. Khoung-fou-tseu said, the man of superior virtue perseveres invariably in the mean; the vulgar or unprincipled man is constantly in opposition to this invariable mean. The less and the more. Few men are there, he cried at another time, who know how to keep long in the right way. I know the reason: cultivated men pass beyond it,—ignorant men do not attain it; men of strong virtue go too far—men of feeble virtue stop short.”
The Chinese ceremonial belongs to its most inward philosophy. Here we have the very marrow of Chinese life, Chinese morals, Chinese politics. Hence we may explain that passion for minute ceremony which seems to Western people so ridiculous and intolerable. Reports of disciples respecting Khoung-fou-tseu’s behaviour. Hence it arises that the most affectionate disciples of a man really so honest and simple as Khoung-fou-tseu was, should spend whole pages in informing us that if he had to salute persons who presented themselves to him either on the right or the left, his robe, behind and before, always fell straight and well-arranged; that his step was quickened when he introduced guests, and that he held his arms extended like the wings of a bird; that when he entered under the gate of the palace he bent his body as if the gate had not been sufficiently high to let him pass; that in passing before the throne his countenance changed all at once, his step being grave and measured, as if he had fetters on, and his words being as embarrassed as his feet; that, taking his robe with his two hands, he ascended into the hall of the palace, his body bent, and holding his breath as if he had not dared to breathe; that his nightdress was always half as long again as his body; that he never ate meat which was not cut in straight lines; that if a meat had not the sauce which belonged to it, he never touched it;—with a thousand other particulars, of which these are fair specimens, and which we willingly omit lest we should diminish our readers’ respect for a really remarkable man, when our intention is only to throw light upon the national character, and to show how entirely the philosophy of Khoung-fou-tseu grew out of it, and was determined by it. Worth of this philosophy. Idea of duty. That philosophy is not a mere collection of dry formalities; it is based upon a large experience; brings out the idea of duty as it was never brought out in the West, till Greek philosophy was remoulded by the Latin mind. Individual and social life. It suggests very deep thoughts respecting the connection of social and individual life; it may help us as much by that which it fails to recognize, as by that which it actually proclaims. But the blanks which are so significant to us have been filled up in China, as they could only be filled up, by new maxims, a more rigid ceremonial, an intense self-conceit and self-satisfaction. Attempts to supply its deficiencies. There have, indeed, been other experiments to supply Khoung-fou-tseu’s deficiencies. A mystical rationalism and the Buddhist divinity have been both called in to help out the cold atheism of the authorized creed. But the true Confucian feels, and feels rightly, that these plants are not indigenous to the Chinese soil, and have no rightful affinity with it. He still clings to his classical books, learns them by heart, dwells on the rules of equity, the contempt of money, the reverence for antiquity which they enforce; shows by the contradictions of his acts and life what truth there is in these maxims, and what powerlessness; Its great effects. how faithfully they foretell the decline of a country in which they are not obeyed; how utterly unable they are to produce obedience. Its variableness. The philosophers of the last century had a right to point to the existence of China through so many centuries, with all its mechanical appliances, its early maturity, its political experience, and to say “See what can be effected by mere intelligence, content to dwell upon the earth, aspiring to no acquaintance with things divine.” We accept their words and their example. Such intelligence could do this; so God has willed. Alas for human beings, if there is nothing which can do more!
12. The fourth classical book. We should do great injustice to China if we said nothing of the fourth of the classical books, which bears another name than that of the great teacher and reformer; of a man, however, who was a teacher and reformer, who considered Khoung-fou-tseu the great legislator of the world, and laboured in a society which had become again degenerated to restore his precepts and his practice. Meng-tseu. Meng-tseu belongs to the fourth century B.C. He is immeasurably more interesting to us than his predecessor, and therefore we should suppose must seem far inferior to him in Chinese eyes. Inferior he probably was, inferior in quietness and self-control, and in perfect adaptation to the habits of the people with whom he conversed. We can quite imagine that he never would have been a great legislator, or have left any great impression upon the mind of his country, if Khoung-fou-tseu had not led the way. Not so typical a Chinese as Khoung-fou-tseu, But in place of the solemnity and general dryness of his master, there appears to have been in Meng-tseu real humour, a very earnest dislike of oppression, a courage in telling disagreeable truths to the highest personages, and a power of perceiving the practical application of sound maxims to the details of government, which cannot be contemplated without admiration and profit after a lapse of 2,000 years. But much more interesting to us. We have tempted our readers to imitate the worst habits of the Chinese, if we have led them to think scornfully of eastern wisdom, or to suppose that it has no lessons for England in the nineteenth century. Let us repair our error, by asking them to listen to a conversation of Meng-tseu with Siouan-Wang the king of Tshi.
When the people complain of royal parks for being too small. The king interrogated Meng-tseu in these terms: “I have been told that the park of the king Wen-Wang was seven leagues in circumference; was that the case?” Meng-tseu answered respectfully, “History tells us so.” The king said, “If so, was not its extent excessive?” Meng-tseu answered, “The people considered it too small.” When for being too large. The king said, “My insignificance has a park only four leagues in circumference, and the people consider it too large; whence this difference?” Meng-tseu answered, “The park of Wen-Wang contained all these leagues, but thither resorted all persons who wanted to cut grass or wood. Thither went all who wanted to take pheasants and hares. As the king had his park in common with the people, the people thought it small, though it was seven leagues round. Was that wonderful? I, your servant, when I was about to cross the frontier, took care to inform myself of what was especially forbidden in your kingdom, before I dared to venture further. Your servant learnt that there was within your line of customs a park four leagues round, and that the man who killed a stag there, was punished with death, as if he had killed a man. So that there is an actual pit of death of four leagues in circumference, opened in the heart of your kingdom. The people think that park too great. Is it wonderful?”
From a very long conversation with the same prince, all of which well deserves to be extracted, we take a passage which is not so illustrative of the talent of Meng-tseu as many others; but it will at least prove that his philosophy is not obsolete. Crimes of the poor: how connected with their poverty. “To want things necessary for life, and yet to preserve an equal and virtuous mind, is only possible for men whose intelligence raises them above the multitude. The mass of the people, when it wants the necessaries of life, wants also an equal and virtuous mind. Then follow violation of law, licence, and debauchery; there is nothing which it is not capable of doing. Then you bring them before judgment-seats, then you punish them. So you catch the people in a net. If there was a man truly endowed with the virtue of humanity occupying the throne, could he commit this criminal action of catching the people in such a snare?
Condition of China in the days of Meng-tseu. “At present, the constitution of the private property of the people is such, that the children have not wherewith to minister to their fathers and mothers; the fathers have not wherewith to support their wives and their children. In years of abundance, the people suffer to the end of life pain and misery; in years of calamity they are not preserved from famine and death. In such extremities, the people think only of escaping from death. What time can they have to occupy themselves with the moral doctrines which may teach them how to conduct themselves according to the laws of justice and equity?” Meng-tseu proceeds to suggest remedies: improved cultivation of the land, plantation of trees, rearing of animals, the manufacture of silk—above all, education.
Sympathy of monarch and people. One of his great maxims is, that the monarch should always share his pleasures with his people. “If a prince rejoices in the joy of his people, the people rejoice also in his joy. If a prince sorrows in the sorrows of his people, the people also sorrow in his sorrow. Let a prince rejoice with everybody, let him sorrow with everybody; in so doing it is impossible he can find any difficulty in reigning.”
How to gratify a taste for riches The same monarch, in another conversation with Meng-tseu, expressed great admiration for two lines in the Book of Verses: “We may be rich and powerful, but we should have compassion on the widows and orphans.” Meng-tseu answered, rather abruptly, “Oh, king! if you find them so good, why do you not practise them?” The king answered, “My insignificance has a defect; my insignificance loves riches.” Meng-tseu answered respectfully, “Kong-lieon loved riches also, so he shared them with his people that he might gratify his love. If you love them, try the same plan.” The king said, “My insignificance has another weakness; and for pleasure. my insignificance loves pleasure.” Meng-tseu answered, with respect, “Tai-wang loved pleasure; he loved his wife dearly, so he contrived that in all his kingdom there should be no celibates.”
What an emperor is to do who cannot govern his provinces. The following is still more pointed: it is a conversation with the same patient prince. “Suppose a servant of the king trusts a friend with his wife and children, just as he is about to set out for a journey: if, on his return, he finds that his wife and children have suffered cold and hunger, what must he do?” The king: “He must break with his friend.” Meng-tseu went on: “If the chief judge cannot govern the magistrates who are under him, what must be done with him?” The king: “He must be deposed.” Meng-tseu: “If the provinces situated at the extreme limits of the kingdom are not well governed, what must be done?” The king looked to the right and left, and turned the conversation. The ambition of the wise man. Meng-tseu said, “The great man has three satisfactions: to have his father and mother still living, without any cause of dissatisfaction or dissension between the elder and the younger brother, is the first; to have nothing to blush for in the face of heaven or of man, is the second; to meet wise and virtuous men among those of his generation, is the third. These are the three causes of satisfaction to a wise man. To rule an empire is not included among them.”
Hearty love of good a compensation for the want of gifts in a minister. “When the prince of Lou desired that Lo-tching-tseu, a disciple of Meng-tseu, should undertake the whole administration of the kingdom, Meng-tseu said, ‘Since I have heard that news, I cannot sleep for joy.’ Some one asked, ‘What, has he a great deal of energy?’ Meng-tseu said ‘Not at all.’ ‘Has he prudence, and a mind that is apt to form great designs?’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘Has he studied much, and has he very extensive knowledge?’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘If so, why do you lie awake for joy at his promotion?’ ‘Because he is a man who loves what is good.’ ‘Is that enough?’ ‘Yes; to love what is good is more than enough to govern the empire: how much more to govern the kingdom of Lou! If one who is proposed for the administration of a state loves what is good, the good men who inhabit within the four seas will think nothing of travelling one hundred leagues to come and give him good counsel. But if he loves not what is good, these men will say within themselves, He is a self-satisfied man, who always answers, “I knew that a long while ago.” That tone and air will drive good counsellors one hundred leagues from him. If they go, then the slanderers, the flatterers, the people whose countenances say “Yes” to every word he speaks, will arrive in crowds. In such company, if he wishes to govern well, how can he?’”
Suffering the school in which great men are trained by Heaven. The following is in a yet higher strain. “Chun came to the empire from the midst of the fields; Fou-youé was raised to the rank of minister from a mason; Kiao-he was raised from a seller of fish and of salt; Kouan-i-ou became a minister from a gaoler. Thus it is when heaven wishes to confer a great office upon its chosen men, it begins always by proving their souls and their intellects by days of sorrow; their nerves and their bones are worn out by hard toil, their flesh is tormented with hunger. The results of their actions are always contrary to those which they hope to obtain. Thus their souls are stimulated, their natures hardened, their force augmented by an energy, without which they would have been unable to accomplish their high destiny. Men begin by committing faults, before they can correct themselves. They experience anguish of heart, are hindered in their projects, till at last they come forth. It is universally true that life comes through pains and trials, death through pleasures and repose.”
The respectable people of a village: We cannot help thinking that Khoung-fou-tseu himself comes forth in a somewhat braver and finer spirit in the reports and commentaries of Meng-tseu. For instance, he quotes him as saying “that the most honest men of a neighbourhood are the pests of virtue.” “Who are these men?” asked Wen-tchang. what they are. “Those,” said Meng-tseu, “who take pains never to speak or act otherwise than all around them. If you wish to find them in a fault, you never know where to take them. Whatever side you attack them, you never get at them. That which dwells in their heart has a certain resemblance to rectitude and sincerity; what they practise seem like acts of temperance and of integrity. As all their neighbourhood boasts of them incessantly, they fancy themselves perfect people. Therefore Khoung-fou-tseu calls them the pests of virtue. Why Khoung-fou-tseu hated them. ‘I detest,’ says Khoung-fou-tseu, ‘that which has appearance without reality; I detest clever men, for fear that they shall confound justice; I detest an eloquent mouth, fearing lest it should confuse truth; I detest the sounds of the music Tching, because they corrupt music; I detest the colour of violet because it mimics the colour of purple; I detest the most respectable people of a neighbourhood because they mimic virtue.’”
13. Meng-tseu’s democratical tendencies. Meng-tseu, it will be perceived, in spite of this last extract, has a much more democratic tendency than his master. He is even reported to have said, “The people is the most noble thing in the world. The spirits of the earth and the fruits of the earth are second to them. The prince is of the least importance of all.” Such a sentiment as this, found in a book which all Chinese men of education learn by heart, found side by side with precepts which seem to represent the emperor as the source of all light and wisdom to his people, must needs give rise to great perplexities in the more thoughtful members of the Celestial Empire, especially in those who are necessarily brought into contact with the notions and history of barbarians. The effects of such teaching may be much greater than we can foresee. Certainly one cannot expect that they will be favourable to the real freedom and moral culture of this singular people. The deepest wisdom both of Khoung-fou-tseu and Meng-tseu seems to have consisted in awaking monarchs to a consciousness of their position and their duties; their greatest failures to have arisen from their inability to show what higher and more righteous power sustains them in that position, and can give them energy for the discharge of these duties. Whatever teaching can supply that defect may be the instrument of making China what God intends it to be. A subversion of its political order must be also the subversion of its ancient wisdom, without giving it any capacity for the acquisition of fresh light.