CHAPTER IIIPOETRY

SSŬ-MA KUANG

Meanwhile another star had risen, in magnitude to be compared only with the effulgent genius of Ssŭ-ma Ch‘ien.Ssŭ-ma Kuang(1019-1086) entered upon an official career and rose to be Minister of State. But he opposed the great reformer, Wang An-shih, and in 1070 was compelled to resign. He devoted the rest of his life to the completion of his famous work known as theT‘ung Chienor Mirror of History, a title bestowed upon it in 1084 by the Emperor, because “to view antiquity as it were in a mirror is an aid in the administration of government.” The Mirror of History covers a period from the fifth centuryB.C.down to the beginning of the Sung dynasty,A.D.960, and was supplemented by several important works from the author’s own hand, all bearing upon the subject. In his youth the latter had been a devoted student, and used to rest his arm upon a kind of round wooden pillow, which roused him to wakefulness by its movement every time he began to doze over his work. On one occasion, in childhood, a small companion fell into a water-kong, and would have been drowned but for the presence of mind of Ssŭ-ma Kuang. He seized a huge stone, and with it cracked the jar so that the water poured out. As a scholar he had a large library, and was so particular in the handling of his books that even after many years’ use they were still as good as new. He would not allow his disciples to turn over leaves by scratching them up with the nails, but made them use the forefinger and second finger of the right hand. In 1085 he determined to return to public life, but he had not been many months in the capital, labouring as usual for his country’s good, before he succumbed to an illness and died, universally honoured and regretted by his countrymen, to whom he was affectionately known as the Living Buddha.

The following extract from his writings refers to a new and dangerous development in the Censorate, an institution which still plays a singular part in the administration of China:—

“Of old there was no such office as that of Censor. From the highest statesman down to the artisan and trader, every man was free to admonish the Throne. From the time of the Han dynasty onwards, this prerogative was vested in an office, with the weighty responsibility of discussing the government of the empire, the people within the Four Seas, successes, failures, advantages, and disadvantages, in order of importance and of urgency. The sole object in this arrangement was the benefit of the State, not that of the Censor, from whom all ideas of fame or gain were indeed far removed. In 1017 an edict was issued appointing six officers to undertake these Censorial duties, and in 1045 their names were for the first time written out on boards; and then, in 1062, apparently for better preservation, the names were cut on stone. Thus posterity can point to such an one and say, ‘There was a loyal man;’ to another, ‘There was a traitor;’ to a third, ‘There was an upright man;’ toa fourth, ‘There was a scoundrel.’ Does not this give cause for fear?”

CHOU TUN-I

Contemporaneously with Ssŭ-ma Kuang livedChou Tun-i(1017-1073), who combined the duties of a small military command with prolonged and arduous study. He made himself ill by overwork and strict attention to the interests of the people at all hazards to himself. His chief works were written to elucidate the mysteries of the Book of Changes, and were published after his death by his disciples, with commentaries by Chu Hsi. The following short satire, veiled under the symbolism of flowers, being in a style which the educated Chinaman most appreciates, is very widely known:—

“Lovers of flowering plants and shrubs we have had by scores, but T‘ao Ch‘ien alone devoted himself to the chrysanthemum. Since the opening days of the T‘ang dynasty, it has been fashionable to admire the peony; but my favourite is the water-lily. How stainless it rises from its slimy bed! How modestly it reposes on the clear pool—an emblem of purity and truth! Symmetrically perfect, its subtle perfume is wafted far and wide, while there it rests in spotless state, something to be regarded reverently from a distance, and not to be profaned by familiar approach.

“In my opinion the chrysanthemum is the flower of retirement and culture; the peony the flower of rank and wealth; the water-lily, the Lady Virtuesans pareille.

“Alas! few have loved the chrysanthemum since T‘ao Ch‘ien, and none now love the water-lily like myself, whereas the peony is a general favourite with all mankind.”

Ch‘êng Hao(1032-1085) andCh‘êng I(1033-1107) were two brothers famed for their scholarship, especially the younger of the two, who published a valuable commentary upon the Book of Changes. The elder attracted some attention by boldly suppressing a stone image in a Buddhist temple which was said to emit rays from its head, and had been the cause of disorderly gatherings of men and women. A specimen of his verse will be given in the next chapter. Ch‘êng I wrote some interesting chapters on the art of poetry. In one of these he says, “Asked if a man can make himself a poet by taking pains, I reply that only by taking pains can any one hope to be ranked as such, though on the other hand the very fact of taking pains is likely to be inimical to success. The old couplet reminds us—

‘E’er one pentameter be spokenHow many a human heart is broken!’

There is also another old couplet—

‘’Twere sad to take this heart of mineAnd break it o’er a five-foot line.’

Both of these are very much to the point. Confucius himself did not make verses, but he did not advise others to abstain from doing so.”

WANG AN-SHIH

The great reformer and political economistWang An-shih(1021-1086), who lived to see all his policy reversed, was a hard worker as a youth, and in composition his pen was said to “fly over the paper.” As a man he was distinguished by his frugality and his obstinacy. He wore dirty clothes and did not even wash his face, for which Su Hsün denounced him as a beast. He was so cocksure of all his own views thathe would never admit the possibility of being wrong, which gained for him the sobriquet of the Obstinate Minister. He attempted to reform the examination system, requiring from the candidate not so much graces of style as a wide acquaintance with practical subjects. “Accordingly,” says one Chinese writer, “even the pupils at village schools threw away their text-books of rhetoric, and began to study primers of history, geography, and political economy.” He was the author of a work on the written characters, with special reference to those which are formed by the combination of two or more, the meanings of which, taken together, determine the meaning of the compound character. The following is a letter which he wrote to a friend on the study of false doctrines:—

“I have been debarred by illness from writing to you now for some time, though my thoughts have been with you all the while.

“In reply to my last letter, wherein I expressed a fear that you were not progressing with your study of the Canon, I have received several from you, in all of which you seem to think I meant the Canon of Buddha, and you are astonished at my recommendation of such pernicious works. But how could I possibly have intended any other than the Canon of the sages of China? And for you to have thus missed the point of my letter is a good illustration of what I meant when I said I feared you were not progressing with your study of the Canon.

“Now a thorough knowledge of our Canon has not been attained by any one for a very long period. Study of the Canon alone does not suffice for a thorough knowledge of the Canon. Consequently, I have been myself an omnivorous reader of booksof all kinds, even, for example, of ancient medical and botanical works. I have, moreover, dipped into treatises on agriculture and on needlework, all of which I have found very profitable in aiding me to seize the great scheme of the Canon itself. For learning in these days is a totally different pursuit from what it was in the olden times; and it is now impossible otherwise to get at the real meaning of our ancient sages.

“There was Yang Hsiung. He hated all books that were not orthodox. Yet he made a wide study of heterodox writers. By force of education he was enabled to take what of good and to reject what of bad he found in each. Their pernicious influence was altogether lost on him; while on the other hand he was prepared the more effectively to elucidate what we know to be the truth. Now, do you consider that I have been corrupted by these pernicious influences? If so, you know me not.

“No! the pernicious influences of the age are not to be sought for in the Canon of Buddha. They are to be found in the corruption and vice of those in high places; in the false and shameless conduct which is now rife among us. Do you not agree with me?”

SU SHIH

Su Shih(1036-1101), better known by his fancy name as Su Tung-p‘o, whose early education was superintended by his mother, produced such excellent compositions at the examination for his final degree that the examiner, Ou-yang Hsiu, suspected them to be the work of a qualified substitute. Ultimately he came out first on the list. He rose to be a statesman, who made more enemies than friends, and was perpetually struggling against the machinations of unscrupulous opponents, which on one occasion resultedin his banishment to the island of Hainan, then a barbarous and almost unknown region. He was also a brilliant essayist and poet, and his writings are still the delight of the Chinese. The following is an account of a midnight picnic to a spot on the banks of a river at which a great battle had taken place nearly nine hundred years before, and where one of the opposing fleets was burnt to the water’s edge, reddening a wall, probably the cliff alongside:—

“In the year 1081, the seventh moon just on the wane, I went with a friend on a boat excursion to the Red Wall. A clear breeze was gently blowing, scarce enough to ruffle the river, as I filled my friend’s cup and bade him troll a lay to the bright moon, singing the song of the ‘Modest Maid.’

“By and by up rose the moon over the eastern hills, wandering between the Wain and the Goat, shedding forth her silver beams, and linking the water with the sky. On a skiff we took our seats, and shot over the liquid plain, lightly as though travelling through space, riding on the wind without knowing whither we were bound. We seemed to be moving in another sphere, sailing through air like the gods. So I poured out a bumper for joy, and, beating time on the skiff’s side, sang the following verse:—

‘With laughing oars, our joyous prowShoots swiftly through the glittering wave—My heart within grows sadly grave—Great heroes dead, where are ye now?’

“My friend accompanied these words upon his flageolet, delicately adjusting its notes to express the varied emotions of pity and regret, without the slightest break in the thread of sound which seemed to wind aroundus like a silken skein. The very monsters of the deep yielded to the influence of his strains, while the boatwoman, who had lost her husband, burst into a flood of tears. Overpowered by my own feelings, I settled myself into a serious mood, and asked my friend for some explanation of his art. To this he replied, ‘Did not Ts‘ao Ts‘ao say—

‘The stars are few, the moon is bright,The raven southward wings his flight?’

“‘Westwards to Hsia-k‘ou, eastwards to Wu-ch‘ang, where hill and stream in wild luxuriance blend,—was it not there that Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was routed by Chou Yü? Ching-chou was at his feet: he was pushing down stream towards the east. His war-vessels stretched stem to stern for a thousandli: his banners darkened the sky. He poured out a libation as he neared Chiang-ling; and, sitting in the saddle armedcap-à-pie, he uttered those words, did that hero of his age. Yet where is he to-day?

“‘Now you and I have fished and gathered fuel together on the river eyots. We have fraternised with the crayfish; we have made friends with the deer. We have embarked together in our frail canoe; we have drawn inspiration together from the wine-flask—a couple of ephemerides launched on the ocean in a rice-husk! Alas! life is but an instant of Time. I long to be like the Great River which rolls on its way without end. Ah, that I might cling to some angel’s wing and roam with him for ever! Ah, that I might clasp the bright moon in my arms and dwell with her for aye! Alas! it only remains to me to enwrap these regrets in the tender melody of sound.’

“‘But do you forsooth comprehend,’ I inquired, ‘the mystery of this river and of this moon? The water passes by but is never gone: the moon wanes only to wax once more. Relatively speaking, Time itself is but an instant of time; absolutely speaking, you and I, in common with all matter, shall exist to all eternity. Wherefore, then, the longing of which you speak?

“‘The objects we see around us are one and all the property of individuals. If a thing does not belong to me, not a particle of it may be enjoyed by me. But the clear breeze blowing across this stream, the bright moon streaming over yon hills,—these are sounds and sights to be enjoyed without let or hindrance by all. They are the eternal gifts of God to all mankind, and their enjoyment is inexhaustible. Hence it is that you and I are enjoying them now.’

“My friend smiled as he threw away the dregs from his wine-cup and filled it once more to the brim. And then, when our feast was over, amid the litter of cups and plates, we lay down to rest in the boat: for streaks of light from the east had stolen upon us unawares.”

The completion of a pavilion which Su Shih had been building, “as a refuge from the business of life,” coinciding with a fall of rain which put an end to a severe drought, elicited a grateful record of this divine manifestation towards a suffering people. “The pavilion was named after rain, to commemorate joy.” His record concludes with these lines:—

“Should Heaven rain pearls, the cold cannot wear them as clothes;Should Heaven rain jade, the hungry cannot use it as food.It has rained without cease for three days—Whose was the influence at work?Should you say it was that of your Governor,The Governor himself refers it to the Son of Heaven.But the Son of Heaven says ‘No! it was God.And God says ‘No! it was Nature.’And as Nature lies beyond the ken of man,I christen this arbour instead.”

Another piece refers to a recluse who—

“Kept a couple of cranes, which he had carefully trained; and every morning he would release them westwards through the gap, to fly away and alight in the marsh below or soar aloft among the clouds as the birds’ own fancy might direct. At nightfall they would return with the utmost regularity.”

This piece is also finished off with a few poetical lines:—

“Away! away! my birds, fly westwards now,To wheel on high and gaze on all below;To swoop together, pinions closed, to earth;To soar aloft once more among the clouds;To wander all day long in sedgy vale;To gather duckweed in the stony marsh.Come back! come back! beneath the lengthening shades,Your serge-clad master stands, guitar in hand.’Tis he that feeds you from his slender store:Come back! come back! nor linger in the west.”

His account of Sleep-Land is based upon the Drunk-Land of Wang Chi:—

“A pure administration and admirable morals prevail there, the whole being one vast level tract, with no north, south, east, or west. The inhabitants are quiet and affable; they suffer from no diseases of any kind, neither are they subject to the influences of the seven passions. They have no concern with the ordinary affairs of life; they do not distinguish heaven, earth, the sun, and the moon; they toil not, neither do they spin; but simply lie down and enjoy themselves. Theyhave no ships and no carriages; their wanderings, however, are the boundless flights of the imagination.”

His younger brother,Su Chê(1039-1112), poet and official, is chiefly known for his devotion to Taoism. He published an edition, with commentary, of theTao-Tê-Ching.

HUANG T‘ING-CHIEN

One of the Four Scholars of his century isHuang T‘ing-chien(1050-1110), who was distinguished as a poet and a calligraphist. He has also been placed among the twenty-four examples of filial piety, for when his mother was ill he watched by her bedside for a whole year without ever taking off his clothes. The following is a specimen of his epistolary style:—

“Hsi K‘ang’s verses are at once vigorous and purely beautiful, without a vestige of commonplace about them. Every student of the poetic art should know them thoroughly, and thus bring the author into his mind’s eye.

“Those who are sunk in the cares and anxieties of this world’s strife, even by a passing glance would gain therefrom enough to clear away some pecks of the cobwebs of mortality. How much more they who penetrate further and seize each hidden meaning and enjoy its flavour to the full? Therefore, my nephew, I send you these poems for family reading, that you may cleanse your heart and solace a weary hour by their perusal.

“As I recently observed to my own young people, the true hero should be many-sided, but he must not be commonplace. It is impossible to cure that. Upon which one of them asked by what characteristics this absence of the commonplace was distinguished. ‘It is hard to say,’ I replied. ‘A man who is not commonplace is, under ordinary circumstances, much like other people. But he who at moments of great trial does not flinch, he is not commonplace.’”

Chêng Ch‘iao(1108-1166) began his literary career in studious seclusion, cut off from all human intercourse. Then he spent some time in visiting various places of interest, devoting himself to searching out marvels, investigating antiquities, and reading (and remembering) every book that came in his way. In 1149 he was summoned to an audience, and received an honorary post. He was then sent home to copy out his History of China, which covered a period from aboutB.C.2800 toA.D.600. A fine edition of this work, in forty-six large volumes, was published in 1749 by Imperial command, with a preface by the Emperor Ch‘ien Lung. He also wrote essays and poetry, besides a treatise in which he showed that the inscriptions on the Stone Drums, now in Peking, belong rather to the latter half of the third centuryB.C.than to the tenth or eleventh centuryB.C., as usually accepted.

CHU HSI

The name ofChu Hsi(1130-1200) is a household word throughout the length and breadth of literary China. He graduated at nineteen, and entered upon a highly successful official career. He apparently had a strong leaning towards Buddhism—some say that he actually became a Buddhist priest; at any rate, he soon saw the error of his ways, and gave himself up completely to a study of the orthodox doctrine. He was a most voluminous writer. In addition to his revision of the history of Ssŭ-ma Kuang, which, under the title ofT‘ung Chien Kang Mu, is still regarded as thestandard history of China, he placed himself first in the first rank of all commentators on the Confucian Canon. He introduced interpretations either wholly or partly at variance with those which had been put forth by the scholars of the Han dynasty and hitherto received as infallible, thus modifying to a certain extent the prevailing standard of political and social morality. His principle was simply one of consistency. He refused to interpret words in a given passage in one sense, and the same words occurring elsewhere in another sense. The result, as a whole, was undoubtedly to quicken with intelligibility many paragraphs the meaning of which had been obscured rather than elucidated by the earlier scholars of the Han dynasty. Occasionally, however, the great commentator o’erleapt himself. Here are two versions of one passage in the Analects, as interpreted by the rival schools, of which the older seems unquestionably to be preferred:—

Han.Mêng Wu asked Confucius concerning filial piety. The Master said, “It consists in giving your parents no cause for anxiety save from your natural ailments.”

Han.

Mêng Wu asked Confucius concerning filial piety. The Master said, “It consists in giving your parents no cause for anxiety save from your natural ailments.”

Chu Hsi.Mêng Wu asked Confucius concerning filial piety. The Master said, “Parents have the sorrow of thinking anxiously about their children’s ailments.”

Chu Hsi.

Mêng Wu asked Confucius concerning filial piety. The Master said, “Parents have the sorrow of thinking anxiously about their children’s ailments.”

The latter of these interpretations being obviously incomplete, Chu Hsi adds a gloss to the effect that children are therefore in duty bound to take great care of themselves.

In the preface to his work on the Four Books as explained by Chu Hsi, published in 1745, Wang Pu-ch‘ing (born 1671) has the following passage:—“Shao Yung tried to explain the Canon of Changes by numbers, and Ch‘êng I by the eternal fitness of things; but Chu Hsi alone was able to pierce through the meaning, and appropriate the thought of the prophets who composed it.” The other best known works of Chu Hsi are a metaphysical treatise containing the essence of his later speculations, and the Little Learning, a handbook for the young. It has been contended by some that the word “little” in the last title refers not to youthful learners, but to the lower plane on which the book is written, as compared with the Great Learning. The following extract, however, seems to point more towards Learning for the Young as the correct rendering of the title:—

“When mounting the wall of a city, do not point with the finger; when on the top, do not call out.

“When at a friend’s house, do not persist in asking for anything you may wish to have. When going upstairs, utter a loud ‘Ahem!’ If you see two pairs of shoes outside and hear voices, you may go in; but if you hear nothing, remain outside. Do not trample on the shoes of other guests, nor step on the mat spread for food; but pick up your skirts and pass quickly to your allotted place. Do not be in a hurry to arrive, nor in haste to get away.

“Do not bother the gods with too many prayers. Do not make allowances for your own shortcomings. Do not seek to know what has not yet come to pass.”

Chu Hsi was lucky enough to fall in with a clever portrait painter, arara avisin China at the present day according to Mr. J. B. Coughtrie, late of Hongkong, who declares that “the style and taste peculiar to the Chinese combine to render a lifelike resemblance impossible, and the completed picture unattractive. The artist laysupon his paper a flat wash of colour to match the complexion of his sitter, and upon this draws a mere map of the features, making no attempt to obtain roundness or relief by depicting light and shadows, and never by any chance conveying the slightest suggestion of animation or expression.” Chu Hsi gave the artist a glowing testimonial, in which he states that the latter not merely portrays the features, but “catches the very expression, and reproduces, as it were, the inmost mind of his model.” He then adds the following personal tit-bit:—

“I myself sat for two portraits, one large and the other small; and it was quite a joke to see how accurately he reproduced my coarse ugly face and my vulgar rustic turn of mind, so that even those who had only heard of, but had never seen me, knew at once for whom the portraits were intended.” It would be interesting to know if either of these pictures still survives among the Chu family heirlooms.

At the death of Chu Hsi, his coffin is said to have taken up a position, suspended in the air, about three feet from the ground. Whereupon his son-in-law, falling on his knees beside the bier, reminded the departed spirit of the great principles of which he had been such a brilliant exponent in life,—and the coffin descended gently to the ground.

The poetry of the Sungs has not attracted so much attention as that of the T‘angs. This is chiefly due to the fact that although all the literary men of the Sung dynasty may roughly be said to have contributed their quota of verse, still there were few, if any, who could be ranked as professional poets, that is, as writers of verse and of nothing else, like Li Po, Tu Fu, and many others under the T‘ang dynasty. Poetry now began to be, what it has remained in a marked degree until the present day, a department of polite education, irrespective of the particle of the divine gale. More regard was paid to form, and the license which had been accorded to earlier masters was sacrificed to conventionality. The Odes collected by Confucius are, as we have seen, rude ballads of love, and war, and tilth, borne by their very simplicity direct to the human heart. The poetry of the T‘ang dynasty shows a masterly combination, in which art, unseen, is employed to enhance, not to fetter and degrade, thoughts drawn from a veritable communion with nature. With the fall of the T‘ang dynasty the poetic art suffered a lapse from which it has never recovered; and now, in modern times, although every student “can turn a verse” because he has been “dulytaught,” the poems produced disclose a naked artificiality which leaves the reader disappointed and cold.

CH’ÊN T‘UAN

The poetCh‘ên T‘uan(d.A.D.989) began life under favourable auspices. He was suckled by a mysterious lady in a green robe, who found him playing as a tiny child on the bank of a river. He became, in consequence of this supernatural nourishment, exceedingly clever and possessed of a prodigious memory, with a happy knack for verse. Yet he failed to get a degree, and gave himself up “to the joys of hill and stream.” While on the mountains some spiritual beings are said to have taught him the art of hibernating like an animal, so that he would go off to sleep for a hundred days at a time. He wrote a treatise on the elixir of life, and was generally inclined to Taoist notions. At death his body remained warm for seven days, and for a whole month a “glory” played around his tomb. He was summoned several times to Court, but to judge by the following poem, officialdom seems to have had few charms for him:—

“For ten long years I plodded throughthe vale of lust and strife,Then through my dreams there flashed a rayof the old sweet peaceful life....No scarlet-tasselled hat of statecan vie with soft repose;Grand mansions do not taste the joysthat the poor man’s cabin knows.I hate the threatening clash of armswhen fierce retainers throng,I loathe the drunkard’s revels andthe sound of fife and song;But I love to seek a quiet nook, andsome old volume bringWhere I can see the wild flowers bloomand hear the birds in spring.”

Another poet,Yang I(974-1030), was unable to speak as a child, until one day, being taken to the top of a pagoda, he suddenly burst out with the following lines:—

“Upon this tall pagoda’s peakMy hand can nigh the stars enclose;I dare not raise my voice to speak,For fear of startling God’s repose.”

Mention has already been made ofShao Yung(1011-1077) in connection with Chu Hsi and classical scholarship. He was a great traveller, and an enthusiast in the cause of learning. He denied himself a stove in winter and a fan in summer. For thirty years he did not use a pillow, nor had he even a mat to sleep on. The following specimen of his verse seems, however, to belie his character as an ascetic:—

“Fair flowers from above in my goblet are shining,And add by reflection an infinite zest;Through two generations I’ve lived unrepining,While four mighty rulers have sunk to their rest.“My body in health has done nothing to spite me,And sweet are the moments which pass o’er my head;But now, with this wine and these flowers to delight me,How shall I keep sober and get home to bed?”

“Fair flowers from above in my goblet are shining,And add by reflection an infinite zest;Through two generations I’ve lived unrepining,While four mighty rulers have sunk to their rest.

“My body in health has done nothing to spite me,And sweet are the moments which pass o’er my head;But now, with this wine and these flowers to delight me,How shall I keep sober and get home to bed?”

Shao Yung was a great authority on natural phenomena, the explanation of which he deduced from principles found in the Book of Changes. On one occasion he was strolling about with some friends when he heard the goatsucker’s cry. He immediately became depressed, and said, “When good government is about to prevail, the magnetic current flows from north to south; when bad government is about to prevail, it flows from south to north, and birds feel its influence first of all things. Now hitherto this bird has not been seen at Lo-yang;from which I infer that the magnetic current is flowing from south to north, and that some southerner is coming into power, with manifold consequences to the State.” The subsequent appearance of Wang An-shih was regarded as a verification of his skill.

WANG AN-SHIH

The great reformer here mentioned found time, amid the cares of his economic revolution, to indulge in poetical composition. Here is his account of anuit blanche, an excellent example of the difficult “stop-short:”—

“The incense-stick is burnt to ash,the water-clock is stilled.The midnight breeze blows sharply by,and all around is chilled.“Yet I am kept from slumberby the beauty of the spring...Sweet shapes of flowers across the blindthe quivering moonbeams fling!”

“The incense-stick is burnt to ash,the water-clock is stilled.The midnight breeze blows sharply by,and all around is chilled.

“Yet I am kept from slumberby the beauty of the spring...Sweet shapes of flowers across the blindthe quivering moonbeams fling!”

Here, too, is a short poem by the classical scholar, Huang T‘ing-chien, written on the annual visit for worship at the tombs of ancestors, in full view of the hillside cemetery:—

“The peach and plum trees smile with flowersthis famous day of spring,And country graveyards round aboutwith lamentations ring.Thunder has startled insect lifeand roused the gnats and bees,A gentle rain has urged the cropsand soothed the flowers and trees....Perhaps on this side lie the bonesof a wretch whom no one knows;On that, the sacred ashesof a patriot repose.But who across the centuriescan hope to mark each spotWhere fool and hero, joined in death,beneath the brambles rot?”

The grave student Ch‘êng Hao wrote verses like the rest. Sometimes he even condescended to jest:—

“I wander north, I wander south,I rest me where I please....See how the river-banks are nippedbeneath the autumn breeze!Yet what care I if autumn blaststhe river-banks lay bare?The loss of hue to river-banksis the river-banks’ affair.”

In the eleventh and twelfth centuriesHung Chüeh-fanmade a name for himself as a poet and calligraphist, but he finally yielded to the fascination of Buddhism and took orders as a priest. This is no trifling ordeal. From three to nine pastilles are placed upon the shaven scalp of the candidate, and are allowed to burn down into the flesh, leaving an indelible scar. Here is a poem by him, written probably before monasticism had damped his natural ardour:—

“Two green silk ropes, with painted stand,from heights aërial swing,And there outside the house a maiddisports herself in spring.Along the ground her blood-red skirtsall swiftly swishing fly,As though to bear her off to bean angel in the sky.Strewed thick with fluttering almond-bloomsthe painted stand is seen;The embroidered ropes flit to and froamid the willow green.Then when she stops and out she springsto stand with downcast eyes,You think she is some angeljust now banished from the skies.”

YEH SHIH—KAO CHÜ-NIEN

Better known as a statesman than as a poet isYeh Shih(1150-1223). The following “stop-short,” however, referring to the entrance-gate to a beautiful park, is ranked among the best of its kind:—

“’Tis closed!—lest trampling footsteps marthe glory of the green.Time after time we knock and knock;no janitor is seen.Yet bolts and bars can’t quite shut inthe spring-time’s beauteous pall:A pink-flowered almond-spray peeps outathwart the envious wall!”

OfKao Chü-niennothing seems to be known. His poem on the annual spring worship at the tombs of ancestors is to be found in all collections:—

“The northern and the southern hillsare one large burying-ground,And all is life and bustle therewhen the sacred day comes round.Burnt papercash, like butterflies,fly fluttering far and wide,While mourners’ robes with tears of blooda crimson hue are dyed.The sun sets, and the red fox crouchesdown beside the tomb;Night comes, and youths and maidens laughwhere lamps light up the gloom.Let him whose fortune brings him wine,get tipsy while he may,For no man, when the long night comes,can take one drop away!”

Several dictionaries of importance were issued by various scholars during the Sung dynasty, not to mention many philological works of more or less value. The Chinese have always been students of their own language, partly, no doubt, because they have so far never condescended to look at any other. They delight in going back to days when correspondence was carried on by pictures pure and simple; and the fact that there is little evidence forthcoming that such a system ever prevailed has only resulted in stimulating invention and forgery.

A clever courtier, popularly known as “the nine-tailed fox,” wasCh‘ên P‘êng-nien(A.D.961—1017), who rose to be a Minister of State. He was employed to revise theKuang Yün, a phonetic dictionary by some unknown author, which contained over 26,000 separate characters. This work was to a great extent superseded by theChi Yün, on a similar plan, but containing over 53,000 characters. The latter was produced by Sung Ch‘i, mentioned in chap. iii., in conjunction with several eminent scholars.

Tai T‘unggraduated in 1237 and rose to be Governor of T‘ai-chou in Chehkiang. Then the Mongols prevailed, and Tai T‘ung, unwilling to serve them, pleaded ill-health, and in 1275 retired into private life. There he occupied himself with the composition of theLiu Shu Kuor Six Scripts, an examination into the origin and development of writing, which, according to some, was published aboutA.D.1250, but according to others, not until so late as the year 1319.

WU SHU—LI FANG

From the rise of the Sung dynasty may be dated the first appearance of the encyclopædia, destined to occupy later so much space in Chinese literature.Wu Shu(A.D.947—1002), whose life was a good instance of “worth by poverty depressed,” may fairly be credited with the production of the earliest work of the kind. HisShih Lei Fudealt with celestial and terrestrial phenomena, mineralogy, botany, and natural history, arranged, for want of an alphabet, under categories. It is curiously written in the poetical-prose style, and forms the foundation of a similar book of reference in use at the present day. Wu Shu was placed upon the commission which produced a much more extensive work known as theT‘ai P‘ing Yü Lan. At the head of that commission wasLi Fang(A.D.924—995), a Minister of State and a great favourite with the Emperor. In the last year of his life he was invited to witness the Feast of Lanterns from the palace. On that occasion the Emperor placed Li beside him, and after pouring out for him a goblet of wine and supplying him with various delicacies, he turned to his courtiers and said, “Li Fang has twice served us as Minister of State, yet has he never in any way injured a single fellow-creature. Truly this must be a virtuous man.” TheT‘ai P‘ing Yü Lanwas reprinted in 1812, and is bound up in thirty-two large volumes. It was sonamed because the Emperor himself went through all the manuscript, a task which occupied him nearly a year. A list of about eight hundred authorities is given, and the Index fills four hundred pages.

As a pendant to this work Li Fang designed theT‘ai P‘ing Kuang Chi, an encyclopædia of biographical and other information drawn from general literature. A list of about three hundred and sixty authorities is given, and the Index fills two hundred and eighty pages. The edition of 1566—a rare work—bound up in twelve thick volumes, stands upon the shelves of the Cambridge University Library.

Another encyclopædist wasMa Tuan-lin, the son of a high official, in whose steps he prepared to follow. The dates of his birth and death are not known, but he flourished in the thirteenth century. Upon the collapse of the Sung dynasty he disappeared from public life, and taking refuge in his native place, he gave himself up to teaching, attracting many disciples from far and near, and fascinating all by his untiring dialectic skill. He left behind him theWên Hsien T‘ung K‘ao, a large encyclopædia based upon theT‘ung Tienof Tu Yu, but much enlarged and supplemented by five additional sections, namely, Bibliography, Imperial Lineage, Appointments, Uranography, and Natural Phenomena. This work, which cost its author twenty years of unremitting labour, has long been known to Europeans, who have drawn largely upon its ample stores of antiquarian research.

THE HSI YÜAN LU

At the close of the Sung dynasty there was published a curious book on Medical Jurisprudence, which isinteresting, in spite of its manifold absurdities, as being the recognised handbook for official use at the present day. No magistrate ever thinks of proceeding to discharge the duties of coroner without taking a copy of these instructions along with him. The present work was compiled by a judge named Sung Tz’ŭ, from pre-existing works of a similar kind, and we are told in the preface of a fine edition, dated 1842, that “being subjected for many generations to practical tests by the officers of the Board of Punishments, it became daily more and more exact.” A few extracts will be sufficient to determine its real value:—

(1.) “Man has three hundred and sixty-five bones, corresponding to the number of days it takes the heavens to revolve.

“The skull of a male, from the nape of the neck to the top of the head, consists of eight pieces—of a Ts‘ai-chou man, nine. There is a horizontal suture across the back of the skull, and a perpendicular one down the middle. Female skulls are of six pieces, and have the horizontal but not the perpendicular suture.

“Teeth are twenty-four, twenty-eight, thirty-two, or thirty-six in number. There are three long-shaped breast-bones.

“There is one bone belonging to the heart of the shape and size of acash.

“There is one ‘shoulder-well’ bone and one ‘rice-spoon’ bone on each side.

“Males have twelve ribs on each side, eight long and four short. Females have fourteen on each side.”

(2.) “Wounds inflicted on the bone leave a red mark and a slight appearance of saturation, and where the bone is broken there will be at each end a halo-like trace ofblood. Take a bone on which there are marks of a wound, and hold it up to the light; if these are of a fresh-looking red, the wound was inflicted before death and penetrated to the bone; but if there is no trace of saturation from blood, although there is a wound, it was inflicted after death.”

(3.) “The bones of parents may be identified by their children in the following manner. Let the experimenter cut himself or herself with a knife, and cause the blood to drip on to the bones; then if the relationship is an actual fact, the blood will sink into the bone, otherwise it will not.N.B.—Should the bones have been washed with salt water, even though the relationship exists, yet the blood will not soak in. This is a trick to be guarded against beforehand.

“It is also said that if parent and child, or husband and wife, each cut themselves and let the blood drip into a basin of water, the two bloods will mix, whereas that of two people not thus related will not mix.

“Where two brothers, who may have been separated since childhood, are desirous of establishing their identity as such, but are unable to do so by ordinary means, bid each one cut himself and let the blood drip into a basin. If they are really brothers, the two bloods will coagulate into one; otherwise not. But because fresh blood will always coagulate with the aid of a little salt or vinegar, people often smear the basin over with these to attain their own ends and deceive others; therefore always wash out the basin you are going to use, or buy a new one from a shop. Thus the trick will be defeated.”

(4.) “There are some atrocious villains who, when they have murdered any one, burn the body and throw the ashes away, so that there are no bones to examine.In such cases you must carefully find out at what time the murder was committed, and where the body was burnt. Then, when you know the place, all witnesses agreeing on this point, you may proceed without further delay to examine the wounds. The mode of procedure is this. Put up your shed near where the body was burnt, and make the accused and witnesses point out themselves the exact spot. Then cut down the grass and weeds growing on this spot, and burn large quantities of fuel till the place is extremely hot, throwing on several pecks of hemp-seed. By and by brush the place clean; then, if the body was actually burnt on this spot, the oil from the seed will be found to have sunk into the ground in the form of a human figure, and wherever there were wounds on the dead man, there on this figure the oil will be found to have collected together, large or small, square, round, long, short, oblique, or straight, exactly as they were inflicted. The parts where there were no wounds will be free from any such appearances.”

The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries witnessed a remarkable political revolution. China was conquered by the Mongols, and for the first time in history the empire passed under the rule of an alien sovereign. No exact date can be assigned for the transference of the Imperial power. In 1264 Kublai Khan fixed his capital at Peking, and in 1271 he adopted Yüan as his dynastic style. It was not, however, until 1279 that the patriot statesman, Chao Ping, had his retreat cut off, and despairing of his country, took upon his back the boy-Emperor, the last of the Sungs, and jumped from his doomed vessel into the river, thus bringing the great fire-led dynasty to an end.

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