Changing China

by William Gascoyne-Cecil; Lady Florence Mary Cecil

We discussed Confucianism first. I set the ball rolling by asking what was meant by the phrase "superior man." The position was a pleasant one; I was there to be instructed, and could therefore ask as many questions as I chose. The "superior man" is a translation of a phrase in the Chinese classics which perhaps might be better translated "ideal man"; at least so I gathered from these gentlemen; and that in the works of Confucius and Mencius his qualities are fully described. With great joy the whole party fell upon the question, and next minute they were engaged in a courteous polemic as to how exactly they should describe the "superior man," and the answer came that he must be a conscientious man, a man very true to himself, charitable, just and truthful. When they were pressed as to whether wealth was at all necessary to the "ideal man," they indignantly repudiated the suggestion; the "superior man" might equally be a beggar sitting by the roadside or a Viceroy sitting in his palace. It was more interesting when they were asked whether he need be a learned man. There was some doubt and hesitation in the answers; the doctors again consulted with one another, and the answer came, "No, learning was not at all necessary." I asked whether the "ideal man" might be a non-Chinaman, and it was held that he might belong to any race. But the next question was far more difficult for them to answer. Nothing that they had said prevented the "superior man" being a Christian; a Christian might be true and conscientious and charitable. I quoted the case of a foreign doctor living in their city, and asked how he failed to come within their definition of the "superior man," but the Hanlin scholars could not agree; no Christian, in their opinion, could be a "superior man." But my interpreter added that he himself did not endorse this; to his mind any man who fulfilled the requirements should be classed as a "superior man."

We then changed the conversation to the question of "whether Confucius believed in God or not?" I had been instructed in this controversy by one of the most learned missionaries in China, Dr. Ross of Mukden. They maintained, as he told me they would maintain, that the Heaven of Confucius meant Reason. But Reason cannot possibly punish the guilty, though the guilty might be punished by their want of Reason. And as Confucius refers in several places to Heaven as a power that punishes, the definition is obviously incorrect. It dates from a philosopher called Chu. Again the learned men were absorbed in controversy, every one enjoying such a discussion. The greatest number still held to the doctrine that Heaven meant Reason, but a certain number held that it meant a personal God. It ended in the controversy becoming quite heated, and in a copy of Dr. Legge's translation of the Chinese classics being fetched, so that I might fully understand their different points of view. In the end we agreed that there was a considerable force in the argument that Confucius believed in a personal God.

When I further asked how Reason could possibly punish a bad man when he was dead, and how it was that many a bad man, as we all know, died in wealth and prosperity, they answered that after death his memory was punished by his bad deeds coming to light. I suggested that if a man was dead this did not matter to him, and that Confucius' assertion that punishment followed sin implied a future life. When they were further asked whether Confucius taught that all secret sin should one day be made public, there was an eloquent silence, and we dropped the subject.

We then went on to discuss Buddhism, and a pleasant old gentleman leaning on a stick was brought up to instruct me in the doctrine of Buddhism. It was obvious from the jocose and pleasant way the matter was treated, that this was very different ground to the philosophy of Confucius. Then, though everybody was courteous, everybody was keenly and seriously interested, but Buddhism was regarded as a most amusing topic; I was assured that only a few women believed in it, and that none of those in the room gave it the slightest credence. They explained to me why the Dalai Lama came to Peking. Two of the disciples of Buddha had been reincarnated, and the greatest of those two was the Dalai Lama, but it was impossible to tell in which baby the reincarnation took place without coming to the Mongol Temple at Peking; then lots were cast and the matter was settled. I had my doubts whether the old gentleman was accurate, but clearly no one else in the room had the smallest acquaintance with the subject; they made a marked difference between the Buddhism of the Lama Temple at Peking and that of the Monastery at Hangchow, which they called Indian Buddhism, and said the district was often named Little India; but when I tried to discover how many sects of Buddhists there were in China, or what was the nature of their tenets, I could get no information from these gentlemen.

His Excellency Tuan-Fang joined us at this moment and asked whether I could possibly read a Sanscrit manuscript that he had discovered, and which, from the Chinese notes appended to it, he gathered referred to Buddhism. He also wished to discuss the origin of Chinese characters; he had a theory that they came from Egypt, and he showed many rubbings of hieroglyphics which he had had made from monuments in Egypt to prove his point.

But I wanted to ask some questions about Taoism. I had tried to understand Taoism and had found it extremely difficult, and I thought these cultured literati could give me some assistance. I was soon undeceived. Nobody believed in Taoism, and they knew nothing of its doctrine or of its worship. They suggested that the Taoist priests were often to be found in a Buddhist temple, but one scholar said that that was only because the Taoist priest liked to make a little money by selling incense sticks.

Then His Excellency turned the tables and began asking questions about Christianity. The thing that troubled him was that the Bible which he had read was in such poor style. He wanted to know whether I thought our Blessed Saviour habitually wrote in good style or not. I explained that He had originally spoken in Aramaic, which had been translated into Greek, and from the Greek into English, and then had been retranslated by Englishmen into Chinese, so naturally the Chinese version could but inadequately represent the full beauty of His words. It is worthy of notice how much the Chinese mind is attracted by all purely literary subjects, and how little they care about physical science. For instance, when the Viceroy asked me about the sun standing still in the Book of Joshua, which led us into natural science, it was immediately obvious that this was a subject in which these gentlemen took no interest.

We then repaired to a sumptuous luncheon prepared entirely in Chinese fashion. The viands were exquisitely cooked, and comprised bird's-nest soup, shark's fins, white fungus, and all the usual Chinese delicacies. The hospitality of my host made me regret that the capacity of a human body is limited, and if it were not for the excellency of the Chinese cooking, dyspepsia must have been the result. Over luncheon we discussed all manner of topics, and I noticed how extremely sensitive my hosts were to the slightest want of manners. They referred to a mutual friend, a European, in the severest terms because he lacked in courtesy. They discussed also the question of foot-binding. They were convinced that the habit is being given up, and they assured me that it did cause girls excruciating agony. They said the younger generation of Chinese gentlemen would not marry women with deformed feet.

I left the Yamen a great admirer of the culture that could make men so pleasant. If they lacked directness as controversialists, they were most agreeable in their extreme civility and their imperturbable good humour. I shall always look back to my days at Nanking as some of the pleasantest of my life.