The sacrifices to Confucius were formally established by an emperor (A.D. 59), who also ordered that the teaching of Confucius should be studied in all schools throughout the Empire. This is still done everywhere, even in the new universities, but the actual sacrifices—pigs, sheep, and cattle—are reserved for temple worship. These take place before dawn in the second and eighth month. There is plenty of room in the grounds belonging to the temple for pasturage, even for the vast number of animals required, as it is about 8000 acres in extent. More than 500 years elapsed after the death of Confucius before he was universally worshipped, but the worship had the royal sanction, for his teaching is aristocratic in character, whereas that of the yet greater but less noted sage, Mencius, was as thoroughly democratic.
Confucianism is rather a system of ethics than a religion. Confucius merely accepted (and that only to a limited extent) the religion of the age and country in which he lived, and he added to it a code of morals dealing largely with the government of the State. He said, “I am not an originator, but a transmitter.” Confucius lived contemporaneously with the Buddha, but no two great teachers of mankind could have differed more widely from one another than did these, both in character and in teaching. In the Buddha, love and pity for the sorrows of humanity drowned every other feeling, and he resolutely refused to use his powerful intellectual faculties for any other purpose than to lessen suffering, and eventually to rid the world of it. Confucius, on the other hand, allowed his intellect free play, and it appears to have led him to look with tolerance, and a certain measure of acquiescence, on the religious beliefs of the age. There is a famous saying of his, “Respect the spirits, but keep them at a distance.” At the same time, he was conscious of his mission as a teacher sent by God; he says, when threatened by the people of K’uang: “After the death of King Wen, was not wisdom lodged in me? If God were to destroy this wisdom, future generations could not possess it. So long as God does not destroy this wisdom, what can the people of K’uang do to me?” Confucius seems to have been a superstitious man; he was apt to turn pale at a thunderclap, and he sanctioned the practices of the village folk for driving away evil spirits.
The most important features of his teaching are the high ideals which he inculcated for the ruling of the State, and the stress he laid on the obligations of men to their fellow-men, even more than on their obligations towards God. One of his fundamental doctrines was that all men are born radically good. This doctrine is not accepted—at all events, at the present day—with regard to women; the Chinese would be more inclined to say, “All women are born radically stupid,” or, as the women themselves frequently put it, “We are only wooden-heads.” Confucius also strongly advocated the duty of reverence and sincerity, and “protested against any attempt to impose on God.” He rose from his seat in the presence of any one dressed in mourning. The five cardinal virtues taught by Confucius are righteousness, benevolence, politeness, discernment of good, and sincerity.
It will be readily understood from the above brief account of Confucianism that it is quite possible to combine it as a religion either with Buddhism or Taoism, and in point of fact it is not unusual for a Chinaman to profess all three religions at the same time, or by turns. I was told in Shansi that sometimes a village would feel aggrieved at their gods not having protected them from some disaster, or given them sufficiently good crops, so they would decide to try another religion for a time. The transformation in a village temple is easily effected.
Not only were divine honours paid to Confucius, but his family also were promoted to places of honour in the cult, and had adjoining temples raised to them, though only his father was granted a statue. In one of the temples is a fine series of stones engraved like brasses, descriptive of the life of Confucius. These are so greatly admired that it has been found necessary for their preservation to have papers pasted across them intimating that rubbings are not to be taken from them. Some of these tablets are fine specimens of writing—for Küfow is above all places the home of Chinese literature—and the inscriptions aim at being brief, telling, and enigmatic. Their value depends also on beauty of style and calligraphy.
The temples are only about two hundred years old, as they have twice been destroyed by lightning. The first time it happened, a thrill of terror ran through the whole Empire: nothing further happened, so the next time the nation took it quite calmly. There are no priests to look after the place, and, to judge by its neglected appearance, the five families exempted from taxation by some bygone emperor, in order that they might devote themselves to the care of it, have become extinct. The emperor used formerly to come at stated times in order to offer sacrifices, as being the visible head of Confucianism, but now he contents himself with sending every two or three years to decorate the temple and keep it in repair.
As we were leaving it began to rain a little, so the soldiers and police put on their hats, till then slung on their backs: when it rains heavily they put up the scarlet umbrella as well!
CEMETERY OF CONFUCIUS
After lunch we called on the magistrate to thank him for his hospitality and to take leave of him, attended by all our retinue, plus the rag-tag and bobtail of the town, with our card-case (measuring 11½ inches by 6½ inches) carried in front by the servant; then came “Mr. Summers,” who had managed to raise a horse for the occasion. Tea and cigarettes were handed round, and we were placed in seats of honour on a sort of platform. We did not linger, as we were anxious to complete our pilgrimage by visiting the grave of Confucius, situated in a park a short distance outside the town. It is approached through a series of gateways of varying sizes and importance. Long avenues of cypresses lead from one gateway to another, and at last a spot is reached from which every one is commanded to approach the grave on foot. This is simple and dignified, as befits a sage—nothing but a tablet bearing an inscription, set up on a plain low pedestal, shaded by trees. Near it are the graves of other members of the family of Confucius, which are much less modest. His grandson’s tablet has two curious tall stone figures of servants on each side. This descendant wrote a celebrated treatise called the “Doctrine of the Mean.”