Great as were his labours in laying the foundation of literary culture, the impression made by his personal intercourse and by his collected sayings has been ten-fold more influential. They form the substance of the Four Books which, from a similar numerical coincidence, the Chinese are fond of comparing with our Four Gospels. Confucius certainly gives the Golden Rule as the essence of his teaching. True, he puts it in a negative form, "Do not unto others what you would not have them do to you"; but he also says, "My doctrine is comprehended in two words, chung and shu." The former denotes fidelity; the latter signifies putting oneself in the place of another, but it falls short of that active charity which has changed the face of the world.
It were easy to point out Confucius' limitations and mistakes; yet on the whole his merits were such that his people can hardly be blamed for the exaggerated honours which they show to his memory. They style him the "model teacher of all ages," but they do not invoke him as a tutelary deity, nor do they represent him by an image. Excessively honorific, their worship of Confucius is not idolatry.
MENCIUS
A hundred years later Mencius was born, and received his doctrine through the grandson of the Sage. More eloquent than his great master, more bold in rebuking the vices of princes, he was less original. One specimen of his teaching must suffice. One of the princes asking him, "How do you know that I have it in me to become a good ruler?" he replied, "I am told that, seeing the extreme terror of an ox that was being led to the altar, you released it and commanded a sheep to be offered in its stead. The ox was before your eyes and you pitied it; the sheep was not before your eyes and you had no pity on it. Now with such a heart if you would only think of your people, so as to bring them before your eyes, you might become the best of rulers."
Mencius lost his father in his infancy, but his mother showed rare good sense in the bringing up of her only child. Living near a butcher, she noticed that the boy mimicked the cries of the pigs. She then removed to the gate of a cemetery; but, noticing that the child changed his tune and mocked the wailing of mourners, she struck her tent and took up her abode near a high school. There she observed with joy that he learned the manners and acquired the tastes of a student. Perceiving, however, that he was in danger of becoming lazy and dilatory, she cut the warp of her web and said, "My son, this is what you are doing with the web of life."
The tomb of each of these sages is in the keeping of one of his descendants, who enjoys the emoluments of a hereditary noble. Mencius himself says of the master whom he never saw, "Since men were born on earth there has been no man like Confucius."
LAO-TSE
I cannot close this chapter without a word or two on Lao-tse, the founder of Taoism. He bore the family name of Li, "plum-tree," either from the fact that his cottage was in a garden or possibly because, like the Academics, he placed his school in a grove of plum-trees. The name by which he is now known signifies "old master," probably because he was older than Confucius. The latter is said to have paid him a visit to inquire about rites and ceremonies; but Lao-tse, with his love of solitude and abstract speculation, seems not to have exerted much influence on the mind of the rising philosopher. In allusion to him, Confucius said, "Away from men there is no philosophy—no tao."
Less honoured by the official class, Lao-tse's influence with the masses of China has been scarcely less than that of his younger rival. Like the other two sages he, too, has to-day a representative, who enjoys an official status as high priest of the Taoist sect. Chang Tien-shi dwells in a stately palace on the summit of the Tiger and Dragon Mountain, in Kiangsi, as the head of one of the three religions. But, alas! the sublime teachings of the founder of Taoism have degenerated into a contemptible mixture of jugglery and witchcraft.
Not till five centuries later did Buddhism enter China and complete the triad of religions—a triad strangely inharmonious; indeed one can scarcely conceive of three creeds more radically antagonistic.