Meanwhile another star had risen, in magnitude to be compared only with the effulgent genius of Ssŭ-ma Ch‘ien. Ssŭ-ma Kuang (1019-1086) entered upon an official career and rose to be Minister of State. But he opposed the great reformer, Wang An-shih, and in 1070 was compelled to resign. He devoted the rest of his life to the completion of his famous work known as the T‘ung Chien or Mirror of History, a title bestowed upon it in 1084 by the Emperor, because “to view antiquity as it were in a mirror is an aid in the administration of government.” The Mirror of History covers a period from the fifth century B.C. down to the beginning of the Sung dynasty, A.D. 960, and was supplemented by several important works from the author’s own hand, all bearing upon the subject. In his youth the latter had been a devoted student, and used to rest his arm upon a kind of round wooden pillow, which roused him to wakefulness by its movement every time he began to doze over his work. On one occasion, in childhood, a small companion fell into a water-kong, and would have been drowned but for the presence of mind of Ssŭ-ma Kuang. He seized a huge stone, and with it cracked the jar so that the water poured out. As a scholar he had a large library, and was so particular in the handling of his books that even after many years’ use they were still as good as new. He would not allow his disciples to turn over leaves by scratching them up with the nails, but made them use the forefinger and second finger of the right hand. In 1085 he determined to return to public life, but he had not been many months in the capital, labouring as usual for his country’s good, before he succumbed to an illness and died, universally honoured and regretted by his countrymen, to whom he was affectionately known as the Living Buddha.

The following extract from his writings refers to a new and dangerous development in the Censorate, an institution which still plays a singular part in the administration of China:—

“Of old there was no such office as that of Censor. From the highest statesman down to the artisan and trader, every man was free to admonish the Throne. From the time of the Han dynasty onwards, this prerogative was vested in an office, with the weighty responsibility of discussing the government of the empire, the people within the Four Seas, successes, failures, advantages, and disadvantages, in order of importance and of urgency. The sole object in this arrangement was the benefit of the State, not that of the Censor, from whom all ideas of fame or gain were indeed far removed. In 1017 an edict was issued appointing six officers to undertake these Censorial duties, and in 1045 their names were for the first time written out on boards; and then, in 1062, apparently for better preservation, the names were cut on stone. Thus posterity can point to such an one and say, ‘There was a loyal man;’ to another, ‘There was a traitor;’ to a third, ‘There was an upright man;’ to a fourth, ‘There was a scoundrel.’ Does not this give cause for fear?”


CHOU TUN-I

Contemporaneously with Ssŭ-ma Kuang lived Chou Tun-i (1017-1073), who combined the duties of a small military command with prolonged and arduous study. He made himself ill by overwork and strict attention to the interests of the people at all hazards to himself. His chief works were written to elucidate the mysteries of the Book of Changes, and were published after his death by his disciples, with commentaries by Chu Hsi. The following short satire, veiled under the symbolism of flowers, being in a style which the educated Chinaman most appreciates, is very widely known:—

“Lovers of flowering plants and shrubs we have had by scores, but T‘ao Ch‘ien alone devoted himself to the chrysanthemum. Since the opening days of the T‘ang dynasty, it has been fashionable to admire the peony; but my favourite is the water-lily. How stainless it rises from its slimy bed! How modestly it reposes on the clear pool—an emblem of purity and truth! Symmetrically perfect, its subtle perfume is wafted far and wide, while there it rests in spotless state, something to be regarded reverently from a distance, and not to be profaned by familiar approach.

“In my opinion the chrysanthemum is the flower of retirement and culture; the peony the flower of rank and wealth; the water-lily, the Lady Virtue sans pareille.

“Alas! few have loved the chrysanthemum since T‘ao Ch‘ien, and none now love the water-lily like myself, whereas the peony is a general favourite with all mankind.”