CHINA
Prefatory note.
For the transcription of Chinese words I use the modern Peking pronunciation as represented in Giles's Dictionary. It may be justly objected that of all dialects Pekingese is perhaps the furthest removed from ancient Chinese and therefore unsuited for historical studies and also that Wade's system of transcription employed by Giles is open to serious criticism. But, on the other hand, I am not competent to write according to the pronunciation of Nanking or Canton all the names which appear in these chapters and, if I were, it would not be a convenience to my readers. Almost all English works of reference about China use the forms registered in Giles's Dictionary or near approximations to them, and any variation would produce difficulty and confusion. French and German methods of transcribing Chinese differ widely from Wade's and unfortunately there seems to be no prospect of sinologues agreeing on any international system.
INTRODUCTORY.
The study of Chinese Buddhism is interesting but difficult[557]. Here more than in other Asiatic countries we feel that the words and phrases natural to a European language fail to render justly the elementary forms of thought, the simplest relationships. But Europeans are prone to exaggerate the mysterious, topsy-turvy character of the Chinese mind. Such epithets are based on the assumption that human thought and conduct normally conform to reason and logic, and that when such conformity is wanting the result must be strange and hardly human, or at least such as no respectable European could expect or approve. But the assumption is wrong. In no country with which I am acquainted are logic and co-ordination of ideas more wanting than in the British Isles. This is not altogether a fault, for human systems are imperfect and the rigorous application of any one imperfect system must end in disaster. But the student of Asiatic psychology must begin his task by recognising that in the West and East alike, the thoughts of nations, though not always of individuals, are a confused mosaic where the pattern has been lost and a thousand fancies esteemed at one time or another as pleasing, useful or respectable are crowded into the available space. This is especially true in the matter of religion. An observer fresh to the subject might find it hard to formulate the relations to one another and to the Crown of the various forms of Christianity prevalent in our Empire or to understand how the English Church can be one body, when some sections of it are hardly distinguishable from Roman Catholicism and others from non-conformist sects. In the same way Chinese religion offers startling combinations of incongruous rites and doctrines: the attitude of the laity and of the government to the different churches is not to be defined in ordinary European terms and yet if one examines the practice of Europe, it will often throw light on the oddities of China.
The difficulty of finding a satisfactory equivalent in Chinese for the word God is well known and has caused much discussion among missionaries. Confucius inherited and handed on a worship of Heaven which inspired some noble sayings and may be admitted to be monotheism. But it was a singularly impersonal monotheism and had little to do with popular religion, being regarded as the prerogative and special cult of the Emperor. The people selected their deities from a numerous pantheon of spirits, falling into many classes among which two stand out clearly, namely, nature spirits and spirits of ancestors. All these deities, as we must call them for want of a better word, present odd features, which have had some influence on Chinese Buddhism. The boundary between the human and the spirit worlds is slight. Deification and euhemerism are equally natural to the Chinese. Not only are worthies of every sort made into gods[558], but foreign deities are explained on the same principle. Thus Yen-lo (Yama), the king of the dead, is said to have been a Chinese official of the sixth century A.D. But there is little mythology. The deities are like the figures on porcelain vases: all know their appearance and some their names, but hardly anyone can give a coherent account of them. A poly-dæmonism of this kind is even more fluid than Hinduism: you may invent any god you like and neglect gods that don't concern you. The habit of mind which produces sects in India, namely the desire to exalt one's own deity above others and make him the All-God, does not exist. No Chinese god inspires such feelings.
The deities of medieval and modern China, including the spirits recognized by Chinese Buddhism, are curiously mixed and vague personalities[559]. Nature worship is not absent, but it is nature as seen by the fancy of the alchemist and astrologer. The powers that control nature are also identified with ancient heroes, but they are mostly heroes of the type of St. George and the Dragon of whom history has little to say, and Chinese respect for the public service and official rank takes the queer form of regarding these spirits as celestial functionaries. Thus the gods have a Ministry of Thunder which supervises the weather and a Board of Medicine which looks after sickness and health.
The characteristic expression of Chinese popular religion is not exactly myth or legend but religious romance. A writer starts from some slender basis of fact and composes an edifying novel. Thus the well-known story called Hsi-Yu-Chi[560] purports to be an account of Hsüan Chuang's journey to India but, except that it represents the hero as going there and returning with copies of the scriptures, it is romance pure and simple, a fantastic Pilgrim's Progress, the scene of which is sometimes on earth and sometimes in the heavens. The traveller is accompanied by allegorical creatures such as a magic monkey, a pig, and a dragon horse, who have each their own significance and may be seen represented in Buddhist and Taoist temples even to-day. So too another writer, starting from the tradition that Avalokita (or Kuan-Yin) was once a benevolent human being, set himself to write the life of Kuan-Yin, represented as a princess endued with every virtue who cheerfully bears cruel persecution for her devotion to Buddhism. It would be a mistake to seek in this story any facts throwing light on the history of Avalokita and his worship. It is a religious novel, important only because it still finds numerous readers.
It is commonly said that the Chinese belong to three religions, Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, and the saying is not altogether inaccurate. Popular language speaks of the three creeds and an ordinary person in the course of his life may take part in rites which imply a belief in them all[561]. Indeed the fusion is so complete that one may justly talk of Chinese religion, meaning the jumble of ceremonies and beliefs accepted by the average man. Yet at the same time it is possible to be an enthusiast for any one of the three without becoming unconventional.
Of the three religions, Confucianism has a disputable claim to the title. If the literary classes of China find it sufficient, they do so only by rejecting the emotional and speculative sides of religion. The Emperor Wan-li[562] made a just epigram when he said that Confucianism and Buddhism are like the wings of a bird. Each requires the co-operation of the other. Confucius was an ethical and political philosopher, not a prophet, hierophant or church founder. As a moralist he stands in the first rank, and I doubt if either the Gospels or the Pitakas contain maxims for the life of a good citizen equal to his sayings. But he ignored that unworldly morality which, among Buddhists and Christians, is so much admired and so little practised. In religion he claimed no originality, he brought no revelation, but he accepted the current ideas of his age and time, though perhaps he eliminated many popular superstitions. He commended the worship of Heaven, which, if vague, still connected the deity with the moral law, and he enjoined sacrifice to ancestors and spirits. But all this apparently without any theory. His definition of wisdom is well known: "to devote oneself to human duties and keep aloof from spirits while still respecting them." This is not the utterance of a sceptical statesman, equivalent to "remember the political importance of religion but keep clear of it, so far as you can." The best commentary is the statement in the Analects that he seldom spoke about the will of Heaven, yet such of his utterances about it as have been preserved are full of awe and submission[563]. A certain delicacy made him unwilling to define or discuss the things for which he felt the highest reverence, and a similar detached but respectful attitude is still a living constituent of Chinese society. The scholar and gentleman will not engage in theological or metaphysical disputes, but he respectfully takes part in ceremonies performed in honour of such venerated names as Heaven, Earth and Confucius himself. Less willingly, but still without remonstrance, he attends Buddhist or Taoist celebrations.