If it is hard to define the religious element in Confucianism, it is still harder to define Taoism, but for another reason, namely, that the word has more than one meaning. In one sense it is the old popular religion of China, of which Confucius selected the scholarly and gentlemanly features. Taoism, on the contrary, rejected no godlings and no legends however grotesque: it gave its approval to the most extravagant and material superstitions, especially to the belief that physical immortality could be insured by drinking an elixir, which proved fatal to many illustrious dupes. As an organized body it owes its origin to Chang-Ling (c. 130 A.D.) and his grandson Chang-Lu[564]. The sect received its baptism of blood but made terms with the Chinese Government, one condition being that a member of the house of Chang should be recognized as its hereditary Patriarch or Pope[565]. Rivalry with Buddhism also contributed to give Taoism something of that consistency in doctrine and discipline which we associate with the word religion, for in their desire to show that they were as good as their opponents the Taoists copied them in numerous and important particulars, for instance triads of deities, sacred books and monastic institutions.
The power of inventive imitation is characteristic of Taoism[566]. In most countries great gods are children of the popular mind. After long gestation and infancy they emerge as deities bound to humanity by a thousand ties of blood and place. But the Taoists, whenever they thought a new deity needful or ornamental, simply invented him, often with the sanction of an Imperial Edict. Thus Yü-Ti[567], the precious or jade Emperor, who is esteemed the supreme ruler of the world, was created or at least brought into notice about 1012 A.D. by the Emperor Chên Tsung[568] who pretended to have correspondence with him. He is probably an adaptation of Indra and is also identified with a prince of ancient China, but cannot be called a popular hero like Rama or Krishna, and has not the same hold on the affections of the people.
But Taoism is also the name commonly given not only to this fanciful church but also to the philosophic ideas expounded in the Tao-tê-ching and in the works of Chuang-tzŭ. The Taoist priesthood claim this philosophy, but the two have no necessary connection. Taoism as philosophy represents a current of thought opposed to Confucianism, compared with which it is ascetic, mystic and pantheistic, though except in comparison it does not deserve such epithets. My use of pantheistic in particular may raise objection, but it seems to me that Tao, however hard to define, is analogous to Brahman, the impersonal Spirit of Hindu philosophy. The universe is the expression of Tao and in conforming to Tao man finds happiness. For Confucianism, as for Europe, man is the pivot and centre of things, but less so for Taoism and Buddhism. Philosophic Taoism, being somewhat abstruse and unpractical, might seem to have little chance of becoming a popular superstition. But from early times it was opposed to Confucianism, and as Confucianism became more and more the hall-mark of the official and learned classes, Taoism tended to become popular, at the expense of degrading itself. From early times too it dallied with such fascinating notions as the acquisition of miraculous powers and longevity. But, as an appeal to the emotional and spiritual sides of humanity, it was, if superior to Confucianism, inferior to Buddhism.
Buddhism, unlike Confucianism and Taoism, entered China as a foreign religion, but, in using this phrase, we must ask how far any system of belief prevalent there is accepted as what we call a religion. Even in Ceylon and Burma people follow the observances of two religions or at least of a religion and a superstition, but they would undoubtedly call themselves Buddhists. In China the laity use no such designations and have no sense of exclusive membership. For them a religion is comparable to a club, which they use for special purposes. You may frequent both Buddhist and Taoist temples just as you may belong to both the Geographical and Zoological Societies. Perhaps the position of spiritualism in England offers the nearest analogy to a Chinese religion. There are, I believe, some few persons for whom spiritualism is a definite, sufficient and exclusive creed. These may be compared to the Buddhist clergy with a small minority of the laity. But the majority of those who are interested or even believe in spiritualism, do not identify themselves with it in this way. They attend séances as their curiosity or affections may prompt, but these beliefs and practices do not prevent them from also belonging to a Christian denomination. Imagine spiritualism to be better organized as an institution and you will have a fairly accurate picture of the average Chinaman's attitude to Buddhism and Taoism. One may also compare the way in which English poets use classical mythology. Lycidas, for instance, is an astounding compound of classical and biblical ideas, and Milton does not hesitate to call the Supreme Being Jove in a serious passage. Yet Milton's Christianity has never, so far as I know, been called in question.
There is an obvious historical parallel between the religions of the Chinese and early Roman Empires. In both, the imperial and official worship was political and indifferent to dogma without being hostile, provided no sectary refused to call the Emperor Son of Heaven or sacrifice to his image. In both, ample provision was made outside the state cult for allaying the fears of superstition, as well as for satisfying the soul's thirst for knowledge and emotion. A Roman magistrate of the second century A.D. may have offered official sacrifices, propitiated local genii, and attended the mysteries of Mithra, in the same impartial way as Chinese magistrates took part a few years ago in the ceremonies of Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism. In both cases there was entire liberty to combine with the official religious routine private beliefs and observances incongruous with it and often with one another: in both there was the same essential feature that no deity demanded exclusive allegiance. The popular polytheism of China is indeed closely analogous to the paganism of the ancient world[569]. Hinduism contains too much personal religion and real spiritual feeling to make the resemblance perfect, but in dealing with Apollo, Mars and Venus a Roman of the early Empire seems to have shown the mixture of respect and scepticism which is characteristic of China.
This attitude implies not only a certain want of conviction but also a utilitarian view of religion. The Chinese visit a temple much as they visit a shop or doctor, for definite material purposes, and if it be asked whether they are a religious people in the better sense of the word, I am afraid the answer must be in the negative. It is with regret that I express this opinion and I by no means imply that there are not many deeply religious persons in China, but whereas in India the obvious manifestations of superstition are a superficial disease and the heart of the people is keenly sensitive to questions of personal salvation and speculative theology, this cannot be said of the masses in China, where religion, as seen, consists of superstitious rites and the substratum of thought and feeling is small.
This struck me forcibly when visiting Siam some years ago. In Bangkok there is a large Chinese population and several Buddhist temples have been made over to them. The temples frequented by Siamese are not unlike catholic churches in Europe: the decoration is roughly similar, the standard of decorum much the same. The visitors come to worship, meditate or hear sermons. But in the temples used by the Chinese, a lower standard is painfully obvious and the atmosphere is different. Visitors are there in plenty, but their object is to "get luck," and the business of religion has become transformed into divination and spiritual gambling. The worshipper, on entering, goes to a counter where he buys tapers and incense-sticks, together with some implements of superstition such as rods or inscribed cards. After burning incense he draws a card or throws the rods up into the air and takes an augury from the result. Though the contrast presented in Siam makes the degradation more glaring, yet these temples in Bangkok are not worse than many which I have seen in China. I gladly set on the other side of the account some beautiful and reverent halls of worship in the larger monasteries, but I fear that the ordinary Chinese temple, whether Taoist or Buddhist, is a ghostly shop where, in return for ceremonies which involve neither moral nor intellectual effort, the customer is promised good luck, offspring, and other material blessings.
It can hardly be denied that the populace in China are grossly superstitious. Superstition is a common failing and were statistics available to show the number and status of Europeans who believe in fortune-telling and luck, the result might be startling. But in most civilized countries such things are furtive and apologetic. In China the strangest forms of magic and divination enjoy public esteem. The ideas which underlie popular practice and ritual are worthy of African savages: there has been a monstrous advance in systematization, yet the ethics and intellect of China, brilliant as are their achievements, have not leavened the lump. The average Chinese, though an excellent citizen, full of common sense and shrewd in business, is in religious matters a victim of fatuous superstition and completely divorced from the moral and intellectual standards which he otherwise employs.
Conspicuous among these superstitions is Fêng Shui or Geomancy[570], a pseudo-science which is treated as seriously as law or surveying. It is based on the idea that localities have a sort of spiritual climate which brings prosperity or the reverse and depends on the influences of stars and nature spirits, such as the azure dragon and white tiger. But since these agencies find expression in the contours of a locality, they can be affected if its features are modified by artificial means, for instance, the construction of walls and towers. Buddhism did not disdain to patronize these notions. The principal hall of a monastery is usually erected on a specially auspicious site and the appeals issued for the repair of sacred buildings often point out the danger impending if edifices essential to the good Fêng Shui of a district are allowed to decay. The scepticism and laughter of the educated does not clear the air, for superstition can flourish when neither respected nor believed. The worst feature of religion in China is that the decently educated public ridicules its external observances, but continues to practise them, because they are connected with occasions of good fellowship or because their omission might be a sign of disrespect to departed relatives or simply because in dealing with uncanny things it is better to be on the safe side. This is the sum of China's composite religion as visible in public and private rites. Its ethical value is far higher than might be supposed, for its most absurd superstitions also recommend love and respect in family life and a high standard of civic duty. But China has never admitted that public or private morality requires the support of a religious creed.
As might be expected, life and animation are more apparent in sects than in conventional religion. Since the recent revolution it is no longer necessary to confute the idea that the Chinese are a stationary and unemotional race, but its inaccuracy was demonstrated by many previous movements especially the T'ai-p'ing rebellion, which had at first a religious tinge. Yet in China such movements, though they may kindle enthusiasm and provoke persecution, rarely have the religious value attaching to a sect in Christian, Hindu and Mohammedan countries. Viewed as an ecclesiastical or spiritual movement, the T'ai-p'ing is insignificant: it was a secret society permitted by circumstances to become a formidable rising and in its important phases the political element was paramount. The same is true of many sects which have not achieved such notoriety. They are secret societies which adopt a creed, but it is not in the creed that their real vitality lies.