Had Confucius transmitted to posterity such works as the Iliad, the De Officiis, or the Dialogues of Plato, he would no doubt have taken a higher rank among the commanding intellects of the world, but it may be well doubted whether his influence among his own countrymen would have been as good or as lasting. The variety and minuteness of his instructions for the nurture and education of children, the stress he lays upon filial duty, the detail of etiquette and conduct he gives for the intercourse of all classes and ranks in society, characterize his writings from those of all philosophers in other countries, who, comparatively speaking, gave small thought to the education of the young. The Four Books and the Five Classics would not, so far as regards their intrinsic character in comparison with other productions, be considered as anything more than curiosities in literature for their antiquity and language, were it not for the incomparable influence they have exerted over so many millions of minds; in this view they are invested with an interest which no book, besides the Bible, can claim. The source and explanation of this influence is to be found in their use as text-books in the schools and competitive examinations, and well would it be for Christian lands if their youth had the same knowledge of the writings of Solomon and the Evangelists. Their freedom from descriptions of impurity and licentiousness, and allusions to whatever debases and vitiates the heart, is a redeeming quality of the Chinese classics which should not be overlooked. Chinese literature contains enough, indeed, to pollute even the mind of a heathen, but its scum has become the sediment; and little or nothing can be found in the writings that are most highly prized which will not bear perusal by any person in any country. Every one acquainted with the writings of Hindu, Greek, and Roman poets knows the glowing descriptions of the amours of gods and goddesses which fill their pages, and the purity of the Chinese canonical books in this respect must be considered as remarkable.
Worship of Confucius and his Disciples.
WORSHIP OF CONFUCIUS.
For the most part the Chinese, in worshipping Confucius, content themselves with erecting a simple tablet in his honor; to carve images for the cult of the sage is uncommon. The incident represented in the adjoining wood-cut illustrates, however, an exception to the prevailing severity of this worship. A certain Wei Kí, a scholar living in the Tang dynasty (A.D. 657), not content, it is said, with giving instruction in the classics, set up the life-size statues of Confucius and his seventy-two disciples in order to incite the enthusiasm of his own pupils. Into this sanctuary of the divinities of learning were wont to come the savant Wei and his scholars—among whom were numbered both his grandfather and several of his grandchildren—to prostrate themselves before the ancient worthies. “But of his descendants,” concludes the chronicler, “there were many who arose to positions of eminence in the State.”
The last of the Four Books is nearly as large as the other three united, and consists entirely of the writings of Mencius, Măng tsz’, or Măng fu-tsz’, as he is called by the Chinese.[326] This sage flourished upward of a century after the death of his master, and although, in estimating his character, it must not be forgotten that he had the advantages of his example and stimulus of his fame and teachings, in most respects he displayed an originality of thought, inflexibility of purpose, and extensive views superior to Confucius, and must be regarded as one of the greatest men Asiatic nations have ever produced.
LIFE OF MENCIUS.
Mencius was born B.C. 371,[327] in the city of Tsau, now in the province of Shantung, not far from his master’s native district. He was twenty-three years old when Plato died, and many other great men of Greece were his contemporaries. His father died early, and left the guardianship of the boy to his widow, Changshí. “The care of this prudent and attentive mother,” to quote from Rémusat, “has been cited as a model for all virtuous parents. The house she occupied was near that of a butcher; she observed that at the first cry of the animals that were being slaughtered the little Măng ran to be present at the sight, and that on his return he sought to imitate what he had seen. Fearful that his heart might become hardened, and be accustomed to the sight of blood, she removed to another house which was in the neighborhood of a cemetery. The relations of those who were buried there came often to weep upon their graves and make the customary libations; the lad soon took pleasure in their ceremonies, and amused himself in imitating them. This was a new subject of uneasiness to Changshí; she feared her son might come to consider as a jest what is of all things the most serious, and that he would acquire a habit of performing with levity, and as a matter of routine merely, ceremonies which demand the most exact attention and respect. Again, therefore, she anxiously changed her dwelling, and went to live in the city, opposite to a school, where her son found examples the most worthy of imitation, and soon began to profit by them. I should not have spoken of this trifling anecdote but for the allusion which the Chinese constantly make to it in the common proverb, ‘Formerly the mother of Mencius chose out a neighborhood.’” On another occasion her son, seeing persons slaughtering pigs, asked her why they did it. “To feed you,” she replied; but reflecting that this was teaching her son to lightly regard the truth, went and bought some pork and gave him.
Mencius devoted himself early to the classics, and probably attended the instructions of noted teachers of the school of Confucius and his grandson Kih. After his studies were completed, at the age of forty, he came forth as a public teacher, and offered his services to the feudal princes of the country. Among others, he was received by Hwui, king of Wei, but, though much respected by this ruler, his instructions were not regarded; and he soon perceived that among the numerous petty rulers and intriguing statesmen of the day there was no prospect of restoring tranquillity to the Empire, and that discourses upon the mild government and peaceful virtues of Yao and Shun, King Wăn and Chingtang, offered little to interest persons whose minds were engrossed with schemes of conquest or pleasure. He thereupon accepted an invitation to go to Tsí, the adjoining State, and spent most of his public life there; the records show that he was often called on for his advice by statesmen of many governments. As he went from one State to another his influence extended as his experience showed him the difficulties of good government amidst the general disregard of justice, mercy, and frugality. His own unyielding character and stern regard for etiquette and probity chilled the loose, unscrupulous men of those lawless times. At length he retired to his home to spend the last twenty years of his life in the society of his disciples, there completing the work which bears his name and has made him such a power among his countrymen. He has always been an incentive and guide to popular efforts to assert the rights of the subject against the injustice of rulers, and an encourager to rulers who have governed with justice. His assertion of the proper duties and prerogatives belonging to both parties in the State was prior to that of any western writer; some of his principles of liberal government were taught before their enunciation in Holy Writ. He died when eighty-four years old (B.C. 288), shortly before the death of Ptolemy Soter at the same age.