FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[301]"The Religion of China," inReligious Systems of the World(8th ed.), pp. 61seq.[302]Quarterly Review, October 1907, p. 374.[303]The Evolution of Religion(3rd ed.), vol. i. p. 40.[304]The Dragon, Image and Demon, pp. 77 and 88.[305]The Middle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. p. 253-4.[306]Chinese Characteristics(5th ed.), p. 185.[307]The Lore of Cathay, p. 275.[308]None perhaps more pitiful than that which is related in theRevue des Deux Mondesof September 15, 1900. I forbear to quote this story, as it would not be fair to do so without hearing "the other side."[309]The Spectator, August 22, 1908, p. 267.[310]Religion in China(1893 ed.), p. 153.[311]For brief accounts of this celebrated episode, see Prof. Parker'sChina and Religion, pp. 197-203; Williams'sMiddle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. pp. 299seq., and Max Müller'sLast Essays(Second Series), pp. 314-18.[312]Parker,op. cit.p. 202.[313]"Considering," writes Sir Charles Eliot, "what would have been the probable fate of Chinamen in Rome who publicly contradicted the Pope on matters of doctrine, it is hardly surprising if K'ang Hsi dealt severely with the rebellious foreign religion." (Quarterly ReviewOctober 1907, p. 375.)[314]The Middle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. p. 253.[315]Evidence of these things may be foundpassimin such journals asChina's Millions. Some typical cases are mentioned by Arthur Davenport in his interesting workChina from Within. He also quotes in full the case referred to on p.332(footnote 3).[316]The processes of beatification and canonisation in Rome and China are in many respects similar. Some years ago the Archbishop of Rouen and other prelates addressed a letter to the Pope with regard to Joan of Arc, begging the Holy See to declare that "this admirable girl practised heroically the Christian virtues ... and that she is consequently worthy of being inscribed among the Blessed and of being publicly invoked by all Christian people." After the lapse of some years Pope Pius IX. duly "proclaimed the heroic quality of Joan of Arc's virtues, and the authenticity of the miracles associated with her name"; and since then, as is well known, the French heroine has gone through the process of beatification. (SeeTimesof April 13, 1909.) In China a man or woman who was distinguished during life for some heroic action or for pre-eminent virtue may—in suitable circumstances—be recommended by the local officials for canonisation, and if the Emperor wills it to be so he issues a decree whereby that person becomes a saint or a god (whichever term we prefer) and is officially entitled to be the recipient of public worship. The memorial in which the magistrates set forth the virtues of the dead man—and the miracles performed at his tomb if there happen to have been any—might be translated almost word for word from similar memorials sent to Rome by orthodox Christian prelates; and the Chinese Emperor gives his decision in the matter in very much the same terms as are adopted by the Pope. Cf. Farnell'sEvolution of Religion, p. 77.[317]Asiatic Studies(Second Series), 1906 ed., p. 155.[318]See pp.277seq.[319]This word "worship" is not a strictly correct translation of the Chinesepai. "To visit or salute ceremoniously" would, as a rule, be a fairer rendering.[320]Lun Yü, ii. 24 (Legge's translation).[321]Sir Charles Eliot, inThe Quarterly Review, October 1907, p. 362.[322]Ancestor-worship and Japanese Lawby Nobushige Hozumi (Tokyo, 1901), pp. 4seq.For a similar view see Tylor'sPrimitive Culture(4th ed.), vol. ii. p. 113.[323]See pp.119,263.[324]In case the reader should be misled into the belief that this opinion is shared by all foreigners in China, I quote some words recently published by the Rev. J. Macgowan in his workSidelights on Chinese Life(pp. 75-6). The root of ancestor-worship, he says, "lies neither in reverence nor in affection for the dead, but in selfishness and dread. The kindly ties and the tender affection that used to bind men together when they were in the world and to knit their hearts in a loving union seem to vanish, and the living are only oppressed with a sense of the mystery of the dead, and a fear lest they should do anything that might incur their displeasure and so bring misery upon the home." This view is not, I think, a fair one.[325]According to Mencius the most unfilial of sons is he who does not become the father of children.[326]For a criticism of the theory, cf. Montesquieu,L'Esprit des Lois, vi. 20. But see also some very appreciative remarks by the same writer on the Chinese theory of Filial Piety, as applied to both domestic and political relationships, in Book xix. 17-19.[327]See above, pp.9,15.[328]Cf. the beautiful prayer-poem of the Chinese king Hsüan Wang, attributed to the ninth centuryB.C.(For text and translation see Legge'sChinese Classics, vol. iv. pt. ii. pp. 528seq.)[329]See p.187.[330]It need not be supposed that there was anything unique about Confucius's agnosticism. There is evidence enough that he did not stand alone in his attitude of uncertainty with regard to the spiritual world. The writings of Mo Tzŭ (Micius), who taught an attractive philosophy of his own in the fourth and fifth centuriesB.C., show inferentially that the question of whether there was or was not a world of spirits was a frequent subject of debate among the learned. Micius himself took the view that "there are heavenly spirits and there are spirits of the hills and streams, and there are spirits of the dead also." He hotly combated the view (which must have been widely current) that no such spirits existed. The subject remained a stock question for debate; indeed once it had been raised, how could it ever have ceased to agitate men's minds? The philosopher Wang Ch'ung (first centuryA.D.) was a materialist, and besides flouting many prevalent superstitions, such as those relating to virgin-births and other prodigies, he entered the lists against those who sought to prove that dead men continue to have a conscious existence or can exercise any control or influence over their living descendants.[331]Both of these enlightening observations are quoted with evident approval by the Rev. H. C. Du Bose in his workThe Dragon, Image and Demon(New York: 1887), pp. 87-8.[332]O. K. Davis in theCentury Illustrated Magazine, November 1904. This is quoted by Prof. H. A. Giles inAdversaria Sinica, p. 202.[333]Nobushige Hozumi inAncestor-Worship and Japanese Law, p. 2.

[301]"The Religion of China," inReligious Systems of the World(8th ed.), pp. 61seq.

[302]Quarterly Review, October 1907, p. 374.

[303]The Evolution of Religion(3rd ed.), vol. i. p. 40.

[304]The Dragon, Image and Demon, pp. 77 and 88.

[305]The Middle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. p. 253-4.

[306]Chinese Characteristics(5th ed.), p. 185.

[307]The Lore of Cathay, p. 275.

[308]None perhaps more pitiful than that which is related in theRevue des Deux Mondesof September 15, 1900. I forbear to quote this story, as it would not be fair to do so without hearing "the other side."

[309]The Spectator, August 22, 1908, p. 267.

[310]Religion in China(1893 ed.), p. 153.

[311]For brief accounts of this celebrated episode, see Prof. Parker'sChina and Religion, pp. 197-203; Williams'sMiddle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. pp. 299seq., and Max Müller'sLast Essays(Second Series), pp. 314-18.

[312]Parker,op. cit.p. 202.

[313]"Considering," writes Sir Charles Eliot, "what would have been the probable fate of Chinamen in Rome who publicly contradicted the Pope on matters of doctrine, it is hardly surprising if K'ang Hsi dealt severely with the rebellious foreign religion." (Quarterly ReviewOctober 1907, p. 375.)

[314]The Middle Kingdom(1883 ed.), vol. ii. p. 253.

[315]Evidence of these things may be foundpassimin such journals asChina's Millions. Some typical cases are mentioned by Arthur Davenport in his interesting workChina from Within. He also quotes in full the case referred to on p.332(footnote 3).

[316]The processes of beatification and canonisation in Rome and China are in many respects similar. Some years ago the Archbishop of Rouen and other prelates addressed a letter to the Pope with regard to Joan of Arc, begging the Holy See to declare that "this admirable girl practised heroically the Christian virtues ... and that she is consequently worthy of being inscribed among the Blessed and of being publicly invoked by all Christian people." After the lapse of some years Pope Pius IX. duly "proclaimed the heroic quality of Joan of Arc's virtues, and the authenticity of the miracles associated with her name"; and since then, as is well known, the French heroine has gone through the process of beatification. (SeeTimesof April 13, 1909.) In China a man or woman who was distinguished during life for some heroic action or for pre-eminent virtue may—in suitable circumstances—be recommended by the local officials for canonisation, and if the Emperor wills it to be so he issues a decree whereby that person becomes a saint or a god (whichever term we prefer) and is officially entitled to be the recipient of public worship. The memorial in which the magistrates set forth the virtues of the dead man—and the miracles performed at his tomb if there happen to have been any—might be translated almost word for word from similar memorials sent to Rome by orthodox Christian prelates; and the Chinese Emperor gives his decision in the matter in very much the same terms as are adopted by the Pope. Cf. Farnell'sEvolution of Religion, p. 77.

[317]Asiatic Studies(Second Series), 1906 ed., p. 155.

[318]See pp.277seq.

[319]This word "worship" is not a strictly correct translation of the Chinesepai. "To visit or salute ceremoniously" would, as a rule, be a fairer rendering.

[320]Lun Yü, ii. 24 (Legge's translation).

[321]Sir Charles Eliot, inThe Quarterly Review, October 1907, p. 362.

[322]Ancestor-worship and Japanese Lawby Nobushige Hozumi (Tokyo, 1901), pp. 4seq.For a similar view see Tylor'sPrimitive Culture(4th ed.), vol. ii. p. 113.

[323]See pp.119,263.

[324]In case the reader should be misled into the belief that this opinion is shared by all foreigners in China, I quote some words recently published by the Rev. J. Macgowan in his workSidelights on Chinese Life(pp. 75-6). The root of ancestor-worship, he says, "lies neither in reverence nor in affection for the dead, but in selfishness and dread. The kindly ties and the tender affection that used to bind men together when they were in the world and to knit their hearts in a loving union seem to vanish, and the living are only oppressed with a sense of the mystery of the dead, and a fear lest they should do anything that might incur their displeasure and so bring misery upon the home." This view is not, I think, a fair one.

[325]According to Mencius the most unfilial of sons is he who does not become the father of children.

[326]For a criticism of the theory, cf. Montesquieu,L'Esprit des Lois, vi. 20. But see also some very appreciative remarks by the same writer on the Chinese theory of Filial Piety, as applied to both domestic and political relationships, in Book xix. 17-19.

[327]See above, pp.9,15.

[328]Cf. the beautiful prayer-poem of the Chinese king Hsüan Wang, attributed to the ninth centuryB.C.(For text and translation see Legge'sChinese Classics, vol. iv. pt. ii. pp. 528seq.)

[329]See p.187.

[330]It need not be supposed that there was anything unique about Confucius's agnosticism. There is evidence enough that he did not stand alone in his attitude of uncertainty with regard to the spiritual world. The writings of Mo Tzŭ (Micius), who taught an attractive philosophy of his own in the fourth and fifth centuriesB.C., show inferentially that the question of whether there was or was not a world of spirits was a frequent subject of debate among the learned. Micius himself took the view that "there are heavenly spirits and there are spirits of the hills and streams, and there are spirits of the dead also." He hotly combated the view (which must have been widely current) that no such spirits existed. The subject remained a stock question for debate; indeed once it had been raised, how could it ever have ceased to agitate men's minds? The philosopher Wang Ch'ung (first centuryA.D.) was a materialist, and besides flouting many prevalent superstitions, such as those relating to virgin-births and other prodigies, he entered the lists against those who sought to prove that dead men continue to have a conscious existence or can exercise any control or influence over their living descendants.

[331]Both of these enlightening observations are quoted with evident approval by the Rev. H. C. Du Bose in his workThe Dragon, Image and Demon(New York: 1887), pp. 87-8.

[332]O. K. Davis in theCentury Illustrated Magazine, November 1904. This is quoted by Prof. H. A. Giles inAdversaria Sinica, p. 202.

[333]Nobushige Hozumi inAncestor-Worship and Japanese Law, p. 2.

It is not only Confucianism, with its grand ethical system, its acquiescence in Nature-worship and its cult of ancestors, that has built up the curiously unsymmetrical edifice of Chinese religion. Taoism and Buddhism must also be taken into account; and if one can find for them but few words of praise it is only fair to remember that the Taoism of to-day has very little in common with the lofty if sometimes rather misty speculations enshrined in that remarkable old classic theTao Tê Ching, and that Buddhism—as now practised in north-eastern Shantung and indeed in the greater part of China (excluding certain famous monastic centres)—is perhaps irrevocably degenerate and corrupt. TheTao Tê Ching, the sacred book of Taoism, is generally supposed, probably on insufficient grounds,[334]to have been written by a philosopher known as Lao Tzŭ, said to have been an elder contemporary of Confucius, in the sixth centuryB.C.

The Taoist philosophy, as set forth in that book, may or may not have been indigenous to China; some writers insist that it was wholly a product of Chinese speculation,[335]while others trace it to early Indian philosophy[336]and even connect it with Buddhism.[337]Though its doctrines are metaphysical as well as ethical, Taoism is to some extent comparable with Confucianism, in which the ethical element is predominant. Indeed most writers have admitted that in enunciating the noble doctrine "Return good for evil," Lao Tzŭ rose to a height never quite attained by Confucius, though the latter also anticipated Christianity by formulating a version of the Golden Rule. One of the best outline comparisons ever attempted between the two systems of Taoism and Confucianism is that recently made by a sympathetic American writer,[338]who concludes with the carefully-weighed and highly important utterance that the two codes combined "furnished at once the foundation and superstructure of as pure, high, and at the same time practical system of ethics as the world has ever seen. It need fear comparison with none. Even that laid down in the Bible, if carefully separated from the religious element here and there intermingled with it, can do no more for man than this ancient system of the Far East can do. And why should it be otherwise, since the two are similar almost to identity, and are, as has been claimed, the necessary outgrowth of the same human spirit."

There is no better augury for future good relations between the thinkers and scholars (if not the Governments and peoples) of East and West than the recent growth of a tolerant and generous spirit on the part of European students of oriental ethic and religion. One still hears constantly of "heathen" and "pagan"—words which, however inoffensive in their original meaning, have come to be regarded as somewhat opprobrious epithets; but that there is a very decided change for the better coming over missionary enterprise in China can be proved very simply by a comparison between the sympathetic appreciation shown in the passage from which the above statement is quoted (written, be it noted, by one who is keenly interested in missionary work in China) and the almost inconceivable bigotry and narrow-mindedness shown by many missionary writers only a few years ago. Even Dr. Legge, the laborious and conscientious translator of the Chinese classics, allowed his Christian prepossessions, as we have already seen, to obscure his judgment and stultify his conclusions. "Their sages,falsely so called," is how he refers to some of the greatest ethical teachers the world has seen.[339]"In January, 1882," writes a doctor of divinity, "a distinguished missionary in China attacked Max Müller as a foe to missions and as a heathen because he had instituted the series of translations of the Sacred Books of the East. The translation itself was an offence; but the use of the titleSacreddefinitely fixed Müller's status. Moreover, at even a later date, some missionaries in answer to the query from Chinamen 'Where now is Confucius?' were prompt to reply 'In hell.'"[340]

The missionaries of to-day (let us hope against hope that there are no exceptions) have abandoned their old savage belief that the "heathen" as such are destined for eternal damnation. This change of belief is of itself sufficient to revolutionise the attitude of Christian peoples towards those who are not Christians, and surely it makes the need of proselytising the "heathen" infinitely less urgent than it seemed to be when that theory still held sway. "If God be father of all," writes a missionary of fourteen years' standing in China, "it is as impossible to believe in the Bible as the sole written depository of the Spirit of God as in the condemnation of the heathen which once we were constrained to believe it taught."[341]

It is perhaps more necessary to lay emphasis on the value of pure Taoism as an ethical system than on that of the Confucian code, for one is apt—especially if one lives among the Chinese—to condemn Taoism almost unheard on account of the gross superstitions that characterise it at the present day. Popular Taoism is and for many centuries has been a compound of jugglery and fraud, of pseudo-religion and pseudo-philosophy. With all this Lao Tzŭ had nothing to do. That great man and his brilliant successor Chuang Tzŭ—who has been styled the St. Paul of Taoism—founded their theory of life and conduct on a mysterious entity calledTao, a word which has been variously translated Reason, Realisation, the Norm, the Word (λόγος), the Way, the First Cause, Nature, the Idea of the Good (in the Platonic sense), the Creative Principle, Truth, the Metaphysical Absolute, Virtue, Wisdom, God. This is no place for a discussion of the philosophical principles of pure Taoism, which has no visible existence among the farmers of Weihaiwei. All that need be said here is that to understand Tao and to regulate one's life according to Tao was to be achên-jên, a true man, a Taoist.

As time went on Taoism became ninety-nine parts "ism" to one part Tao: it dabbled in alchemy, fortune-telling and astrology, and its votaries (who included several Chinese emperors) gave themselves up to a search for the elixir of immortality and the elusive secret of the transmutation of metals. The torch of a lofty philosophy passed into the hands of men who, instead of using the light to aid them in the search for the sublimeTao, soon quenched it in the stagnant waters of witchcraft and demonology. Some writers seem to have assumed that Lao Tzŭ, in spite of the acknowledged fact of his intellectual and moral greatness, was in some mysterious way the unwitting cause of the later corruptions: but, as has been said, a clear distinction must be drawn between popular Taoism (which has little or nothing to say ofTao) and the philosophic Taoism which has made a noble and permanent contribution to the ethical consciousness of the Chinese people.[342]Popular Taoism probably existed, in some form or other, long before the time of the compiler of theTao Tê Ching. The astrology and alchemy and demonology that give the former many of its characteristic features may have existed in China from a very remote age. The extreme antiquity of superstitions of this kind in other parts of Asia is an undeniable fact: the records of the early civilisation of Chaldæa give us statements concerning the sorcerers and astrologers of that country that might be applied almost without alteration to the charm-mongerers and adepts of ChineseTaoism.[343]The philosophy of Lao Tzŭ may be compared with a pure sparkling stream that bubbled up amid the crags of a lofty range of mountains; when it had flowed down the hillside and began to meander through the fields and villages below, its limpid waters became ever more and more defiled by the foulness and refuse of the plains. Perhaps it would be equally true to say that the source of the river of popular Taoism lies among the mists and marshes of some trackless and pestilential jungle; that its waters throughout the whole of its visible course are muddy and impure; and that the clear mountain stream that flowed from the doctrines of Lao Tzŭ and his interpreters and successors was only a tributary stream whose crystal waters were soon lost in the turbid flood of the main river. It was a clear perception of the fundamental difference between the philosophy of Lao Tzŭ and popular Taoism that induced a recent Japanese writer, Kakasu Okakura, to confer upon the former the name of Laoism, after its founder, and to relinquish to the latter the barren glory of the name of Taoism;[344]thus in contemplating the unattractive mythology and crude rituals of the Taoism of the temples we must beware of laying any of the responsibility for such follies on the grand though shadowy figure of "the Old Philosopher," in spite of the fact that his image has taken its place in the Taoist Trinity of gods who are supposed to reign (though not to rule) over the phenomenal Universe.

If it can be confidently asserted that the people of Weihaiwei know little or nothing of Laoism, it must be admitted that they still cling with apparent fondness to the puerile imaginings of Taoism. In respect of Confucianism they perform (with zeal and sincerity) the traditional rites of ancestor-worship,and with respect to Buddhism they support (with less zeal and less sincerity) a few priests to burn incense for them on stated days before the image of the Buddha or some favouritep'u-sasuch as the "Goddess of Mercy": but in other respects Taoism may be said to be the religion that monopolises the largest share of their attention. The greater number of temples in the Territory are Taoist—excluding the Ancestral Temples (Chia Miao), which are not open to the public. Most of these Taoist edifices are poor in outward appearance and their interiors are often dirty and evil-smelling; while the images of the numerous Taoist deities are of cheap manufacture and tawdry in ornament. A casual visitor might suppose the gods were left entirely to themselves; for he may go through a dozen temples and not find a single worshipper or a single priest. But if he scrutinises the altars he will find, amid the dust and cobwebs, the ashes of incense-sticks and sometimes the remains of little offerings in the shape of cakes or sweetmeats,—just enough to show that the gods are not quite forgotten. It is only the largest temples that have resident priests; the smaller ones are either in charge of apprentices or pupil-priests or are visited from time to time (as on occasions of annual festivals or theatrical shows) by priests who exercise spiritual superintendence over a group of temples scattered over a considerable area.

The Taoist priests as a class are neither well-educated nor zealous in discharge of their simple duties, but it would be a mistake to suppose that they are all abjectly lazy or energetic only in vice and crime. The Weihaiwei priests are as a rule fairly respectable in private life; one of them has done and is doing really good work by inducing people to cure themselves of the opium habit. A Taoist temple is generally the property of a group of villages and the "living" is in their gift. When a vacancy occurs in a "living," a new priest is selected by thehui-shouor committee of elders who transact most of the public business of the villages concerned, and the appointment is absolutely within their discretion. But once a priest has been appointed it is (or was) as difficult to turn him out as it is to remove a clergyman from his benefice in England. In Weihaiwei the usual procedure for getting rid of a disreputable priest (whether Taoist or Buddhist) is to present a petition to the magistrate, setting forth the reasons why the priest's continued residence in the locality is considered undesirable. The British Government, needless to say, makes no difficulty about his prompt expulsion as soon as satisfactory evidence against him is forthcoming.

Some of the priests of Weihaiwei are office-bearers in theTsai LiSect—a "total abstinence" society (in some places semi-political in character) which has claimed a large membership in the Weihaiwei district ever since the days of the military colonists. There are gradations of rank among the Taoist priests, but as a rule each is practically independent of the rest. The Taoist "Pope" himself—the dispenser of amulets and charms who resides in the Dragon-Tiger Mountains (Lung-hu Shan) of southern Kiangsi—has no direct authority over the priests of eastern Shantung, or if such authority exists in theory it is not exercised in practice. The official duties of the priests consist in very little more than looking after the temple buildings, seeing to the repair of the images when their clay arms and legs fall off (this is a duty they often shirk), and calling the attention of the deities to the presence of lay visitors who have brought offerings and desire to offer up prayers. Their services as magicians and retailers of charms are also invoked from time to time by private persons.

Men and women (especially women) pay occasional visits to the temples when they wish to implore the aid of a favourite deity in connection with some family matter such as the approaching birth of a child, orsome hazardous business venture, or the illness of a relative; and in such cases they often make vows to the effect that if their prayers are granted they will make certain additional offerings of money and incense.

Apart from these visits the temples are usually deserted except on one or two annual occasions such as the celebration of a local festival. The temple then becomes one of the centres of attraction—indeed in all probability it is a god's birthday that is being celebrated—and its precincts are thronged from morning to night by crowds of well-dressed men and women and children, eager to register their vows or make their petitions. The worshippers knock their heads on the ground as an acknowledgment of humility and powerlessness, while the priest strikes a tinkling bronze bowl with a view to awaking the god from his slumbers. In front of every image stand jars containing sticks of burning incense, sending up clouds of fragrant smoke. The courtyard resounds with fire-crackers and bombs which are supposed to frighten away any wandering spirits of evil. Dense fumes arise from heaps of burning paper representing money, prayers and charms, all of which, through the spiritualisation wrought by fire, are expected to reach the immaterial region of the unseen spirits.

In front of the temple stands the open-air stage where a group of masked or painted actors, clad in robes resplendent with colour and gleaming with gold embroidery, strive by means of extravagant gestures and high-pitched voices to interpret, for the benefit of a dense crowd of eager sightseers, their conception of some fantastic old-world legend or some tragic episode in the bygone history of China.

To enumerate all the gods and goddesses, great and small, that crowd the Taoist pantheon would be tedious. Popular Taoism provides deities or spiritual patrons for all the forces of nature, diseases (fromdevil-possession to toothache), wealth and rank and happiness, war, old age, death, childbirth, towns and villages, trades, mountains and rivers and seas, lakes and canals, heaven and hell, sun, moon and stars, roads and places where there are no roads, clouds and thunder, every separate part and organ of the human body, and indeed for almost everything that is cognisable by the senses and a great deal that is not. It need hardly be said that no Taoist temple in existence contains images of all these spiritual personages, or a hundredth part of them. Each locality possesses its own favourites.

TheTs'ai Shênor God of Wealth is popular in Weihaiwei no less than elsewhere. He has become so important a deity to the Chinese that though he belongs to Taoism the Buddhists have been compelled to find room for him in their temples in order to attract worshippers who might otherwise go elsewhere. China's guests from the Western hemisphere have sometimes selected the "god of wealth" as a mark for special scorn and ridicule, though why they should do so is not quite apparent, inasmuch as the devotion to money-getting is quite as strong and prevalent among Englishmen and Germans and Americans as it is among the Chinese. Moreover, after a careful consideration of the kind of prayers that are addressed to the god of wealth and the popular attitude towards him and his gifts, I am satisfied that he is merely regarded as the dispenser in moderate quantities of the ordinary good things of life. The farmer who prays to Ts'ai Shên in the local temple does so in the hope that the god will enable him to sell his crops for fair prices so that he may continue to bring up his family amid modest prosperity. It is very much as if he were to say "Give us this day our daily bread": in fact he sometimes uses almost those very words.

The tradesman who burns incense daily in front of a strip of paper inscribed with the name of the godof wealth does so because of "old custom," or from a vague idea that "it cannot possibly do harm and may bring some good luck," or from a more definite religious idea that without some support from the unseen powers—of which Ts'ai Shên is taken as a representative—his business will not prosper. The people of Weihaiwei have a very humble idea of what constitutes wealth. A man was described to me in an official petition as a "lord of wealth"—a common expression for a rich man. I had occasion to make enquiries into the state of this person's finances, and found that his total possessions amounted in value to about two thousand dollars Mexican—less than two hundred pounds. This was all the wealth he was "lord" of. The Chinese Buddhists—in spite of the admission of the Taoist god of wealth into their temples—have always, in their tracts and sermons, sternly discouraged the pursuit of wealth for its own sake. There is a saying which one meets with constantly in a certain class of Buddhistic work: The mean-minded man devotes his bodily powers to the heaping-up of money (that is, he regards money as an end in itself); the gentleman uses what money he has to develop his character (that is, he regards money as a means to an end).

Among other popular Taoist deities in Weihaiwei are theSan Kuanor Three Mandarins, who are supposed to have a kind of ghostly superintendence over sky, earth and water. The three together form a trinity-in-unity, and as such are known as theSan Kuan Ta Ti—literally, the Three-Officials-Great-God.

Several villages contain little tower-shaped shrines harbouring the image of the God of Literature, or rather of Literary Composition, who is supposed to reside in a constellation of six stars called Wên-ch'ang, forming part of Ursa Major. This deity, who takes his name from the constellation, receives the homage of literary men who aim at an official career, and is supposed to have appeared in several humanincarnations, beginning with one Chang Chung in the Chou dynasty. Like many other gods of China he is thus nothing more nor less than a deified man.

IMAGE OF KUAN TI, WEIHAIWEI.

Kuan Ti, the God of War, is also a conspicuous figure in many temples, and he is officially "worshipped" in the cities in the second months of spring and autumn. He is one of the mightiest of all the Taoist gods, though his career as a deity has been quite a short one. He also (in the second centuryA.D.) was an ordinary mortal—a great soldier and hero named Kuan Yü, who performed many acts of valour at a time when China was given up to internecine strife. Long after his death he was canonised, but it was not till near the end of the sixteenth century that one of the Ming emperors raised him to what may be called divine rank. His position in China is equivalent to that of the Japanese Hachiman, who is also a deified human being. Honours have been heaped upon Kuan Ti by the present dynasty, and he has been raised to a theoretical equality with Confucius. Had the Boxers succeeded in driving all foreigners out of China it is possible that he (or the deified Empress-Dowager herself) might have been raised to a position of something approaching pre-eminence among the gods of China.

The walled city of Weihaiwei has, of course, its Kuan Ti temple, as we have seen in connection with the story of the great fishbone found by one of the Liu family.[345]In this temple there is a very large and heavy weapon which might be described as a kind of sword or spear. Weapons of this type are common enough in China, though when of such great size and weight as that in the Kuan Ti temple they are intended more for show than for use, and accordingly find a more appropriate position in a temple or an official yamên than on a field of battle. The Weihaiwei sword—if such it may be called—is of sufficient fame to be specially mentioned in the local Annals. It is there described, accurately enough, as being more thanachangin length (say about twelve English feet) and one hundred catties in weight (say one hundred and thirty-three English pounds). The blade is made of iron, and there is much skilful and delicate ornamentation in copper. "No other temple," says the Chronicle, "has anything like it. Old folks have handed down the tradition that it came out of the sea with a deep rolling sound (something like the lowing of cattle). The people of the neighbourhood heard the sound and went near the strange object. When they lifted it up and examined it, lo! it was a great sword. So they carried it off and presented it reverentially to the spirit of Kuan Ti." The god of war, obviously, was the proper person to possess a weapon which no human arm was strong enough to wield. The written account gives us no clear statement of how this Chinese Excalibur came out of the sea: but the present warden of the temple tells a somewhat prosaic story to the effect that it was found along with sundry other articles, including some arrows and two copper bells, in an open boat that was cast ashore in the Weihaiwei harbour. The arrows are still in the Kuan Ti temple; the bells are said to have been sent off to Wên-têng city, where presumably they still remain.

The Kuan Ti temple is said to have been the scene of at least one miracle. Once upon a time a Taoist priest, named Wu K'ao-yü, who was in charge of the temple, went out for an evening stroll. Darkness came on before he returned, and he then remembered that he had forgotten to light the altar lamps. He hunted about for some means of striking a light, but found none; so he decided to go to one of his neighbours and borrow a candle. He was grumbling at himself for his carelessness when suddenly, in his presence, the altar was illuminated by four brilliant lights. When he observed that they neither flickered nor went out he prostrated himself in reverence andrepeated part of the liturgy. If the god could provide lights for himself, he argued, there was obviously no necessity for troubling the neighbours, so he went to bed like a sensible man, leaving the lamps to look after themselves.

The question arises, did he ever take the trouble to light the lamps again? To this the chronicler gives no reply. The priest was possibly gifted with powers which in these days might be termed mediumistic, for this was not his only remarkable experience of the kind. On one occasion he beheld, in a midnight vision, three elaborately dressed men, lively and active in manner and of handsome appearance. They looked at the priest and all cried out together, "Come quickly and save us!" This remark was twice repeated, and the speakers then vanished. The priest immediately arose, and without choosing his path allowed himself to be led by unseen influences down to the sea-beach. There he saw, lying at the edge of the surf, three copper images. Recognising them at once as images of the Three Prefects of the Sea-King's Palace, he picked them up reverently and deposited them in the principal hall of the temple. Rumours of the strange discovery soon spread far and wide, and crowds of worshippers came to the Kuan Ti temple to see the images for themselves and—incidentally—to make suitable offerings to the highly-favoured priest.

A much smaller deity than Kuan Ti but of greater importance to the people in their everyday life is the City-god—theCh'êng Huang. Every walled city in China has a Ch'êng Huang Lao-yeh (His Worship the City-god) who acts as its guardian deity. On certain fixed days, such as the first and fifteenth of every month and on occasions of special dangers or disasters, the local officials visit the temple dedicated to this deity and burn incense in front of his image, which is generally clad in real robes and is of full human size. A similar ceremonious visit also takes place when anew magistrate arrives in the city and takes over the seals of office.

In many countries there was once a barbarous custom whereby human beings were sacrificed at the building of the gates or towers of a city wall and buried below the foundations.[346]Human blood was believed to add strength and stability to the wall, and the sacrificed human being was supposed to become its spiritual guardian. Sacrifices of this kind are believed to have taken place as recently as 1857, at the foundation of the Burmese city of Mandalay. Not only city-walls but bridges, temples, river-dykes, and indeed all buildings of importance were supposed to be enormously strengthened by the blood and bones of specially-slain human victims. In some cases, apparently, the wretched victims were buried alive. There is some reason for believing that human sacrifices occurred at the construction of the Great Wall of China in the third centuryB.C.

In some parts of the Empire there is still a curiously-prevalent belief to the effect that Governments and officials are in the habit of taking a toll of human life when they have any great engineering work on hand, and bad characters or misguided patriots who wished to bring odium upon foreigners have been known to circulate stories that Chinese children were being kidnapped by Western barbarians for the purpose of burying them under a railway or a fort or a dock or some great public building. There was a scare of the kind among a section of the poorer classes of Hongkong about eight or nine years ago, and in the little village known to Europeans as Aberdeen, on the Hongkong island, there was, in consequence, a small panic. A white ship, said the people, had been seen coming by night into Aberdeen harbour, the object of those on board being to kidnap Chinese boys and girls for purposes of foundation-sacrifices. Yet the people of that village had been under direct British rule for about sixty years! It would be interesting to know whether the Ch'êng Huang or City-god was originally a sacrificed human-being, but the Chinese will not admit such to be the case and it is difficult to procure evidence.

The Chinese of to-day profess to think that no such barbarous custom can ever have taken place in their country, but they are unquestionably wrong in this belief: indeed there is some reason to believe that the custom is not yet extinct in China.[347]As for the barbarity of the practice, the Chinese admit that the custom of slaughtering men and women at funerals, and even burying them alive in the tombs of kings and high officials, became extinct only in modern times.[348]Whatever may be the truth with regard to the origin of the Ch'êng Huang, the popular belief is that he is a kind of ghostly magistrate, and in modern times he is generally regarded as the spirit of a former magistrate who on account of his blameless life or devotion to the interests of the people died "in the odour of sanctity."

Changes and promotions sometimes take place among the city-gods just as among the living members of the Chinese civil service. The world of the dead is supposed to be a reduplication of the world of men. One might almost imagine that some rather dull-witted Chinese philosopher had heard, and grievously failed to understand, the Platonic doctrine of Ideas, and had then applied his new learning to the solution, by Chinese methods, of the mystery of the land from which no traveller returns. Provinces, cities, villages, officials and yamên-runners, houses and fields and cattle, and indeed all material things were and are vaguely supposed to have their immaterial counterparts in the world of shades. It is necessary to emphasise the word "vaguely," for no well-educated and very few illiterate Chinese seem to hold this belief with dogmatic definiteness, and indeed they are usually ready to join Europeans in criticising or deriding it. But it is a theory that certainly colours the traditional Chinese views of death and the beyond.

The city-god takes rank according to the status of the living magistrate: a prefectural city is superior to that of a district-magistracy, hence the city-god of the former takes precedence of the city-god of the latter. The deity that presides over the destinies of Weihaiwei city is thus very humbly placed among the hundreds and thousands of deities of his class, for Weihaiwei is only the seat of ahsün-chien[349]—the mere deputy of a district-magistrate. It is probable, too, that just as the Weihaiweihsün-chienhas become an even less important person than formerly, since theestablishment of British rule over the territory that was once under his supervision, so his ghostly counterpart has been obliged to assume a humbler position than before in the ranks of the minor deities. Yet if local legends are to be credited the Weihai city-god was once quite competent to assert his authority and defend his reputation. It is generally supposed that a deity of this class has control only over the people of his own city and its subject territory: beyond those limits his powers do not extend. But that the Weihai god insisted at one time on respectful treatment even from strangers is proved by the following incident. In the seventeenth century a certain man named Chao, a native of the P'êng-lai district in the prefecture of Têng-chou, had come to Weihaiwei to transact business. The weather being hot he went into the Ch'êng Huang miao (temple of the city-god) for an afternoon nap, and sat down with his back to the god's image. A bystander, who was a local man, hastened to point out that his attitude was disrespectful. "It is not proper," he said, "to sit with your back to the god. Wouldn't it be wiser to turn sideways?" Chao smiled scornfully. "I am a P'êng-lai man; your god has no power over me. I propose to stay where I am."

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