Essentially a people of fiction, the Chinese have given up as much time to the composition and perusal of romances as any other nation on the globe; and this phase of lying is harmless enough in its way. Neither can it be said to interfere with the happiness of foreigners either in or out of China that Chinese medical, astrological, geomantic, and such works, pretend to a knowledge of mysteries we know to be all humbug. On the other hand, they ought to keep their lying to themselves and for their own special amusement. They have no right to circulate written and verbal reports that foreigners dig out babies' eyes and use them in their pharmacopoeia. They have no right to publish such hideous, loathsome pamphlets, as the one which was some years ago translated into too faithful English by an American missionary, who had better have kept his talents to himself, or to post such inflammatory placards as the one which is placed at the end of this volume. Self-glorification, when no one suffers therefrom, is only laughable; and we shall take the liberty of presenting here the translation of an article which appeared in the Shun Pao of the 19th September 1874, as a specimen of the manner in which Chinamen delight to deceive even themselves on certain little points connected with the honour and glory of China. The writer says:—
"I saw yesterday in the Peking Gazette of the 10th September
1874 that the Prince of Kung had been degraded,—a fact received
with mingled feelings of surprise and regret by natives of the
Middle and Western kingdoms alike. For looking back to the last
year of the reign Hsien Feng, we find that not only internal
trouble had not been set at rest when external difficulties began
to spring up around us, and war and battle were the order of the
day. To crown all, His Majesty became a guest in the realm above,
leaving only a child of tender years, unable to hold in his hands
the reins of government. Then, with our ruler a youth and affairs
generally in an unsettled state, sedition within and war without,
although their Majesties the Empresses-Dowager directed the
administration of government from behind the bamboo screen, the
task of wielding the rod of empire must have been arduous indeed.
Since that time, ten years and more, the Eighteen Provinces have
been tranquillised; without, western nations have yielded
obedience and returned to a state of peace; within, the empire
has been fixed on a firm basis and has recovered its former
vitality. Never, even in the glorious ages of the Chou or Hsia
dynasties, has our national prosperity been so boundless as it is
to-day. Whenever I have seen one among the people patting his
stomach or carolling away in the exuberance of his joy, and have
asked the cause of his satisfaction, he has replied, 'It is
because of the loving-kindness of this our dynasty.' I ask what
and whence is this loving-kindness of which he speaks? He answers
me, 'It is the beneficent rule of their Majesties the Empresses-
Dowager; it is the unspeakable felicity vouchsafed by Heaven to
the Emperor; it is the loyalty and virtue of those in high places,
of Tseng Kuo-fan, of Li Hung-chang, of Tso Tsung-t'ang.' These,
however, are all provincial officials. Within the palace we have
the Empresses-Dowager, and His Majesty the Emperor, toiling away
from morn till dewy eve; but among the ministers of state who
transact business, receiving and making known the Imperial will,
working early and late in the Cabinet, the Prince of Kung takes
the foremost place; and it is through his agency, as natives and
foreigners well know, that for many years China has been regaining
her old status, so that any praise of their Imperial Majesties
leads naturally on to eulogistic mention of our noble Premier.
Hearing now that the Prince has incurred his master's displeasure,
there are none who do not fear lest his previous services may be
overlooked, hoping at the same time that the Emperor will be
graciously pleased to take them into consideration and cancel his
present punishment."
Lying, under any circumstances, is a very venial offence in China; it is, in fact, no offence at all, for everybody is prepared for lies from all quarters, and takes them as a matter of course.
It is strange, however, that such a practical people should not have discovered long ago the mere expediency of telling the truth, in the same way that they have found mercantile honesty to be unquestionably the best policy, and that trade is next to impossible without it. But to argue, as many do, that China is wanting in morality, because she has adopted a different standard of right and wrong from our own, is, mutato nomine, one of the most ridiculous traits in the character of the Chinese themselves. They regard us as culpable in the highest degree because our young men choose their own partners, marry, and set up establishments for themselves, instead of bringing their wives to tend their aged parents, and live all together in harmony beneath the paternal roof. We are superior to the Chinese in our utter abhorrence of falsehood: in the practice of filial piety they beat us out of the field. "Spartan virtue" is a household word amongst us, but Sparta's claims to pre-eminence certainly do not rest upon her children's love either for honesty or for truth. The profoundest thinker of the nineteenth century has said that insufficient truthfulness "does more than any one thing that can be named to keep back civilisation, virtue, everything on which human happiness, on the largest scale, depends"—an abstract proposition which cannot be too carefully studied in connection with the present state of public morality in China, and the general welfare of the people. Dr Legge, however, whose logical are apparently in an inverse ratio to his linguistic powers, rushes wildly into the concrete, and declares that every falsehood told in China may be traced to the example of Confucius himself. He acknowledges that "many sayings might be quoted from him, in which 'sincerity' is celebrated as highly and demanded as stringently as ever it has been by any Christian moralist," yet, on the strength of two passages in the Analects, and another in the "Family Sayings," he does not hesitate to say that "the example of him to whom they bow down as the best and wisest of men, encourages them to act, to dissemble, to sin." And what are these passages? In the first, Confucius applauds the modesty of an officer who, after boldly bringing up the rear on the occasion of a retreat, refused all praise for his gallant behaviour, attributing his position rather to the slowness of his horse. In the second, an unwelcome visitor calling on Confucius, the Master sent out to say he was sick, at the same time seizing his harpsichord and singing to it, "in order that Pei might hear him." Dr Legge lays no stress on the last half of this story—though it is impossible to believe that its meaning can have escaped his notice altogether. Lastly, when Confucius was once taken prisoner by the rebels, he was released on condition of not proceeding to Wei. "Thither, notwithstanding, he continued his route," and when asked by a disciple whether it was right to violate his oath, he replied, "It was a forced oath. The spirits do not hear such."
We shall not attempt to defend Confucius on either of these indictments, taken separately and without reference to his life and teachings; neither do we wish to temper the accusations we ourselves have made against the Chinese, of being a nation of liars. But when it is gravely asserted that the great teacher who made truthfulness and sincerity his daily texts, is alone responsible for a vicious national habit which, for aught any one knows to the contrary, may be a growth of comparatively modern times, we call to mind the Horatian poetaster, who began his account of the Trojan war with the fable of Leda and the swan.
SUICIDE
Suicide, condemned among western nations by human and divine laws alike, is regarded by the Chinese with very different eyes. Posthumous honours are even in some cases bestowed upon the victim, where death was met in a worthy cause. Such would be suicide from grief at the loss of a beloved parent, or from fear of being forced to break a vow of eternal celibacy or widowhood. Candidates are for the most part women, but the ordinary Chinaman occasionally indulges in suicide, urged by one or other of two potent causes. Either he cannot pay his debts and dreads the evil hour at the New Year, when coarse-tongued creditors will throng his door, or he may himself be anxious to settle a long-standing score of revenge against some one who has been unfortunate enough to do him an injury. For this purpose he commits suicide, it may be in the very house of his enemy, but at any rate in such a manner as will be sure to implicate him and bring him under the lash of the law. Nor is this difficult to effect in a country where the ends of justice are not satisfied unless a life is given for a life, where magistrates are venal, and the laws of evidence lax. Occasionally a young wife is driven to commit suicide by the harshness of her mother-in-law, but this is of rare occurrence, as the consequences are terrible to the family of the guilty woman. The blood relatives of the deceased repair to the chamber of death, and in the injured victim's hand they place a broom. They then support the corpse round the room, making its dead arm move the broom from side to side, and thus sweep away wealth, happiness, and longevity from the accursed house for ever.
The following extract from the Peking Gazette of 14th September 1874, being a memorial by the Lieutenant Governor of Kiangsi, will serve to show—though in this case the act was not consummated—that under certain circumstances suicide is considered deserving of the highest praise. In any case, public opinion in China has every little to say against it:—
"The magistrate of the Hsin-yu district has reported to me that in
the second year of the present reign (1863) a young lady, the
daughter of a petty official, was betrothed to the son of
an expectant commissioner of the Salt Gabelle, and a day was fixed
upon for the marriage. The bridegroom, however, fell ill and died,
on which his fiancee would have gone over to the family to see
after his interment, and remain there for life as an unmarried
wife. As it was, her mother would not allow her to do so, but
beguiled her into waiting till her father, then away on business,
should return home. Meanwhile, the old lady betrothed her to
another man belonging to a different family, whereupon she took
poison and nearly died. On being restored by medical aid, she
refused food altogether; and it was not until she was permitted to
carry out her first intentions that she would take nourishment at
all. Since then she has lived with her father and mother-in-law,
tending them and her late husband's grandmother with the utmost
care. They love her dearly, and are thus in a great measure
consoled for the loss of their son. Long thorns serve her for
hair-pins;[*] her dress is of cotton cloth; her food consists of
bitter herbs. Such privations she voluntarily accepts, and among
her relatives there is not one but respects her.
"The truth of the above report having been ascertained, I would
humbly recommend this virtuous lady, although the full time
prescribed by law has not yet expired,[+] for some mark[:] of Your
Majesty's approbation." Rescript:—Granted!
[*] Instead of the elaborate gold and silver ornaments usually worn by
Chinese women.
[+] A woman must be a widow before she is thirty years old, and remain
so for thirty years before she is entitled to the above reward.
This is both to guard against a possible relapse from her former
virtuous resolution, and to have some grounds for believing that
she was prompted so to act more by a sense of right than by any
ungallant neglect on the part of the other sex.
[:] Generally a tablet or banner, inscribed with well-chosen words of
praise.