Lion and Dragon in Northern China

by Sir Reginald Fleming Johnston

We have now made a rough survey of the different religious systems that are to be found in China, and especially in that part of China with which these pages are chiefly concerned; and it is not improbable that the reader's verdict will be that Confucianism is an admirable if unemotional system of ethics, that Buddhism has decayed out of recognition, and that Taoism has degenerated into mere ritual, mythology and image-worship. But before we reproach the Chinese for the childish superstitions that seem to occupy so large a place in their outlook on life, let us remember that the Chinese are very far from believing all they are supposed to believe.

When writers on comparative mythology and religion declare that this or that race holds this or that strange belief they do not necessarily mean that such belief is present to the minds of the people in question in the definite and clear-cut fashion that a dogma of the Christian faith may be supposed to present itself to a devout Catholic. A so-called belief, when it comes to be closely examined, is often found to be nothing more than some quaint old fancy that has crystallised itself in the form of a quasi-religious ceremonial. Many a strange national or tribal custom that seems to presuppose a definite religious belief is carried on because it is traditional; the belief that it represents may or may not be extinct: in some cases, indeed, it has obviously been invented to explain the existence of a ceremony the cause of which has long been forgotten. Sometimes the custom lingers on—like the children's masquerades in the first Chinese month at Weihaiwei[401]—not only after the ideas that originally prompted it have disappeared but in spite of the fact that no one has thought it worth while to evolve a new theory of origin.

If it were definitely proved that these children's dances sprang from prehistoric magical rites connected with the growth of the crops, we might soon hear from European writers on myth and religion that "the people of Weihaiwei hold certain dances in the first month of each year in the belief that they will conduce to good harvests." Yet this would be a misleading statement, for whatever the origin of the custom may have been the people of Weihaiwei at the present time are absolutely destitute of any such belief. When studying comparative religion in books it is very necessary to be on one's guard against obtaining quite erroneous impressions of the actual conditions of belief among the people treated of, for however careful and conscientious the writers may be, it is very difficult for them (writing very largely from travellers' and missionaries' notes) to distinguish between a belief that is an active religious force and a stereotyped custom which merely represents a belief that existed or is supposed to have existed in days gone by. The mistakes that arise are of course the natural result of studying books about men instead of studying the men themselves. Unfortunately all of us are obliged to rely on books to a great extent, as life is too short to enable each of us to make himself personally familiar with the customs and religious ideas of more than a very small number of different races. But this fact ought to make us particularly careful not to run the risk of misleading others by misunderstanding and therefore erroneously reporting the facts that have come under our own observation.

There are few of the minor superstitious practices of the Chinese which are regarded by their Western teachers as more ridiculous and contemptible than their strange fancy that they can send money, articles of furniture and clothing and written messages to the dead by the simple and economical expedient of burning paper images or representations of such things. Perhaps at a Chinese funeral one may be shocked to see a liberal-minded Chinese gentleman of one's own acquaintance joining the rest of the mourners in this foolish occupation. If, after having gained his confidence, one asks him whether he literally believes that paper money will turn into real money in the other world or that his dead ancestors actually require a supply of money to help them to keep up appearances among their brother ghosts, he will in all likelihood say that of course he believes in nothing of the kind, but that the paper-burning forms part of the customary rites and it is not for him to alter them. Perhaps he will say that the women and children believe, and that an attempt to disabuse them of their silly notions might unsettle their minds and cause trouble.

If he is a scholar he will perhaps say something like this: "In ancient times real valuables were thrown into the grave. Money, jewels, animals, even living men and women were once buried with the dead. When it was decided that this custom must be given up it was thought necessary to keep ignorant minds quiet by explaining that worthless imitations of the real articles would serve the purpose equally well; so clay and wood and paper began to be used at funerals, and their use still continues. It is a foolish custom, but we think it helps to convey a useful lesson to the average unthinking man and woman and makes them feel that they are bound to their dead ancestors by ties of love and reverence and gratitude. The more strongly their feelings are moved in this way the more likely will they be to rule their families well and to lead peaceful and orderly and industrious lives. They might show love and reverence for the dead in some better way than by burning heaps of paper? I grant you: but it happens to be our way, and when we ourselves or rather the superstitious masses begin to disbelieve in it and laugh at it then it will be time enough to make a change."

But why should we take the Chinese to task for a custom which we tolerate within a stone's throw of the Vatican itself? How puzzled our Chinese gentleman would be, after listening to our arguments on the folly of burning paper for the dead, to read such a paragraph as this: "In the Church of the Jesuit College at Rome lies buried St. Aloysius Gonzaga, on whose festival it is customary especially for the college students to write letters to him, which are placed on his gaily decorated and illuminated altar, and afterwards burned unopened. The miraculous answering of these letters is vouched for in an English book of 1870."[402]

It is well to remember that as regards the world beyond the grave and the nature of spirits the Chinese ideas—like those of the average European—are vague and inconsistent. The ordinary Christian seems able to reconcile in his own mind (perhaps by providing himself with separate thought-tight compartments) all kinds of heterogeneous beliefs and notions about heaven and hell and the Day of Judgment and the present lot of those who have "gone before." A Chinese who, knowing nothing of Western religious notions, began with an unbiassed mind to study many of our Church hymns, our old-fashioned epitaphs and obituary notices, our funeral sermons and a good deal of our serious poetry (such as Tennyson's magnificent "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington") would probably account for obvious inconsistencies of doctrine by the supposition that the eschatological ideas of the West were rather like those of his own land, inasmuch as each dead man evidently possessed at least three souls—one that remained in the grave, another that hovered round the bereaved relatives, and a third that wore a crown in heaven. Yet the devout church-goer would doubtless be surprised to hear that his prayers and hymns contained any words which could give an outsider so false an impression of his real belief.

I have been asked this question: How is it that from all accounts the Chinese are such sensible and intelligent men and yet hold such puerile and idiotic views about nature and religion? The answer is that backwardness in scientific knowledge (especially in such knowledge as has been acquired very recently even by Western peoples) is accountable for many of their foolish imaginings, but that a very great number of the most childish superstitions and customs of the Chinese are not founded on any existing beliefs at all but are merely traditional forms. The "heathen" rites so harrowingly described by missionaries are very often much more harmless than one would suppose from their accounts. A careless Chinese traveller in England might after observing some of our English rites and customs tell tales which would make England appear hardly less grotesque than poor China appears in numberless books written by well-intentioned foreigners. If he visited an old-fashioned country-house in England and watched the yule-log blazing in the hall at Christmas time he might suppose (after learning the origin of the custom) that his host was knowingly practising an old heathen rite connected with the winter solstice.[403]