THE HIAO KING, OR CANONS OF FILIAL DUTY.Next in course to this rather trifling primer comes theHiao King, or ‘Canons of Filial Duty,’ a short tractate of only 1,903 characters, which purports to be the record of a conversation held between Confucius and his disciple Tsăng Tsan on the principles of filial piety. Its authenticity has been disputed by critics, but their doubts are not shared by their countrymen, who commit it to memory as the words of the sage. The legend is that a copy was discovered in the wall of his dwelling, and compared with another secreted by Yen Chí at the burning of the books; from the two Liu Hiang chose eighteen of the chapters contained in it as alone genuine, and in this shape it has since remained. The sixth section of the Imperial Catalogue is entirely devoted to writers on theHiao King, one of whom wasYuentsung, an emperor of the Tang dynasty (A.D.733). Another comment was published in 32 volumes in Kanghí’s reign, discussing the whole subject in one hundred chapters. Though it does not share in critical eyes the confidence accorded to the nine classics, the brevity and subject matter of this work have commended it to teachers as one of the best books in the language to be placed in the hands of their scholars; thus its influence has been great and enduring. It has been translated by Bridgman, who regards the first six sections as the words of Confucius, while the other twelve contain his ideas. Two quotations are all that need be here given to show its character.Section I.—On the origin and nature of filial duty.—Filial duty is the root of virtue, and the stem from which instruction in the moral principle springs. Sit down, and I will explain this to you. The first thing which filial duty requires of us is, that we carefully preserve from all injury, and in a perfect state, the bodies which we have received from our parents. And when we acquire for ourselves a station in the world, we should regulate our conduct by correct principles, so as to transmit our names to future generations, and reflect glory on our parents. This is the ultimate aim of filial duty. Thus it commences in attention to parents, is continued through a course of services rendered to the prince, and is completed by the elevation of ourselves. It is said in theBook of Odes,Ever think of your ancestors;Reproducing their virtue.Section V.—On the attention of scholars to filial duty.—With the same love that they serve their fathers, they should serve their mothers; and with the same respect that they serve their fathers, they should serve their prince; unmixed love, then, will be the offering they make to their mothers; unfeigned respect the tribute they bring to their prince; while toward their fathers both these will be combined. Therefore they serve their prince with filial duty and are faithful to him; they serve their superiors with respect and are obedient to them. By constant obedience and faithfulness toward those who are above them, they are enabled to preserve their stations and emoluments, and to offer the sacrifices which are due to their deceased ancestors and parents. Such is the influence of filial piety when performed by scholars. It is said in theBook of Odes,When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]The highest place in the list of virtues and obligations is accorded to filial duty, not only in this, but in other writings of Confucius and those of his school. “There are,” to quote from another section, “three thousand crimes to which one or the other of the five kinds of punishment is attached as a penalty; and of these no one is greater than disobedience to parents. When ministers exercise control over the monarch, then there is no supremacy; when the maxims of the sages are set aside, then the law is abrogated; and so those who disregard filial duty are as though they had no parents. These three evils prepare the way for universal rebellion.”This social virtue has been highly lauded by all Chinese writers, and its observance inculcated upon youth and children by precept and example. Stories are written to show the good effects of obedience, and the bad results of its contrary sin, which are put into their hands, and form also subjects for pictorial illustration, stanzas for poetry, and materials for conversation. The following examples are taken from a toy-book of this sort, called theTwenty-four Filials, one of the most popular collections on the subject.EXTRACTS FROM THE TWENTY-FOUR FILIALS.“During the Chau dynasty there lived a lad named Tsăng Tsan (also Tsz’-yu), who served his mother very dutifully. Tsăng was in the habit of going to the hills to collect fagots; and once, while he was thus absent, many guests came to his house, toward whom his mother was at a loss how to act. She, while expecting her son, who delayed his return, began to gnaw her fingers. Tsăng suddenly felt a pain in his heart, and took up his bundle of fagots in order to return home; and when he saw his mother, he kneeled and begged to know what was the cause of her anxiety. She replied, ‘there have been some guests here, who came from a great distance, and I bit my finger in order to arouse you to return to me.’“In the Chau dynasty lived Chung Yu, named also Tsz’-lu, who, because his family was poor, usually ate herbs and coarse pulse; and he also went more than a hundredlíto procure rice for his parents. Afterward, when they were dead, he went south to the country of Tsu, where he was made commander of a hundred companies of chariots; there he became rich, storing up grain in myriads of measures, reclining upon cushions, and eating food served to him in numerous dishes; but sighing, he said, ‘Although I should now desire to eat coarse herbs and bring rice for my parents, it cannot be!’“In the Chau dynasty there flourished the venerable Lai, who was very obedient and reverential toward his parents, manifesting his dutifulness by exerting himself to provide them with every delicacy. Although upward ofseventy years of age, he declared that he was not yet old; and usually dressed himself in parti-colored embroidered garments, and like a child would playfully stand by the side of his parents. He would also take up buckets of water, and try to carry them into the house; but feigning to slip, would fall to the ground, wailing and crying like a child: and all these things he did in order to divert his parents.“During the Han dynasty lived Tung Yung, whose family was so very poor that when his father died he was obliged to sell himself in order to procure money to bury his remains. After this he went to another place to gain the means of redeeming himself; and on his way he met a lady who desired to become his wife, and go with him to his master’s residence. She went with him, and wove three hundred pieces of silk, which being completed in two months, they returned home; on the way, having reached the shade of the cassia tree where they before met, the lady bowed and ascending, vanished from his sight.“During the Han dynasty lived Ting Lan, whose parents both died when he was young, before he could obey and support them; and he reflected that for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused them, no recompense had yet been given. He then carved wooden images of his parents, and served them as if they had been alive. For a long time his wife would not reverence them; but one day, taking a bodkin, she in derision pricked their fingers. Blood immediately flowed from the wound; and seeing Ting coming, the images wept. He examined into the circumstances, and forthwith divorced his wife.“In the days of the Han dynasty lived Koh Kü, who was very poor. He had one child three years old; and such was his poverty that his mother usually divided her portion of food with this little one. Koh says to his wife, ‘We are so poor that our mother cannot be supported, for the child divides with her the portion of food that belongs to her. Why not bury this child? Another child may be born to us, but a mother once gone will never return.’ His wife did not venture to object to the proposal; and Koh immediately dug a hole of about three cubits deep, when suddenly he lighted upon a pot of gold, and on the metal read the following inscription: ‘Heaven bestows this treasure upon Koh Kü, the dutiful son; the magistrate may not seize it, nor shall the neighbors take it from him.’“Măng Tsung, who lived in the Tsin dynasty, when young lost his father. His mother was very sick; and one winter’s day she longed to taste a soup made of bamboo sprouts, but Măng could not procure any. At last he went into the grove of bamboos, clasped the trees with his hands, and wept bitterly. His filial affection moved nature, and the ground slowly opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried home. He made a soup with them, of which his mother ate and immediately recovered from her malady.“Wu Măng, a lad eight years of age, who lived under the Tsin dynasty, was very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not afford to furnish their bed with mosquito-curtains; and every summer’s night, myriads of mosquitos attacked them unrestrainedly, feasting upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would not drive them away, lest they should go to his parents, and annoy them. Such was his affection.”[279]THE SIAO HIOH, OR JUVENILE INSTRUCTOR.The last book learned before entering on the classics has had almost as great an influence as any of them, and none of the works of later scholars are so well calculated to show the ideas of the Chinese in all ages upon the principles of education, intercourse of life, and rules of conduct as this; precepts are illustrated by examples, and the examples referred back to precepts for their moving cause. This is theSiao Hioh, or “Juvenile Instructor,” and was intended by Chu Hí, its author, as a counterpart of theTa Hiao, on which he had written a commentary. It has had more than fifty commentators, one of whom says, “We confide in theSiao Hiohas we do in the gods, and revere it as we do our parents.” It is divided into two books, the “fountain of learning,” and “the stream flowing from it,” arranged in 20 chapters and 385 short sections. The first book has four parts and treats of the first principles of education; of the duties we owe our kindred, rulers, and fellow-men, of those we owe ourselves in regard to study, demeanor, food, and dress; and lastly gives numerous examples from ancient history, beginning with very early times down to the end of the Chau dynasty,B.C.249, confirmatory of the maxims inculcated, and the good effects resulting from their observance. The second book contains, in its first part, a collection of wise sayings of eminent men who flourished afterB.C.200, succeeded by a series of examples of distinguished persons calculated to show the effects of good principles; both designed to establish the truth of the teachings of the first book. One or two quotations, themselves extracted from other works, will suffice to show something of its contents.“Confucius said, ‘Friends must sharply and frankly admonish each other, and brothers must be gentle toward one another.’”“Tsz’-kung, asking about friendship, Confucius said, ‘Faithfully to inform and kindly to instruct another is the duty of a friend; if he is not tractable, desist; do not disgrace yourself.’”“Whoever enters with his guests, yields precedence to them at every door; when they reach the innermost one, he begs leave to go in and arrange the seats, and then returns to receive the guests; and after they have repeatedly declined he bows to them and enters. He passes through the right door, they through the left. He ascends the eastern, they the western steps. If a guest be of a lower grade, he must approach the steps of the host, while the lattermust repeatedly decline this attention; then the guest may return to the western steps, he ascending, both host and guest must mutually yield precedence: then the host must ascend first, and the guests follow. From step to step they must bring their feet together, gradually ascending—those on the east moving the right foot first, those on the west the left.”The great influence which these six school-books have had is owing to their formative power on youthful minds, a large proportion of whom never go beyond them (either from want of time, means, or desire), but are really here furnished with the kernel of their best literature.HABITS OF STUDY—SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES.The tedium of memorizing these unmeaning sounds is relieved by writing the characters on thin paper placed over copy slips. The writing and the reading lessons are the same, and both are continued for a year or two until the forms and sounds of a few thousand characters are made familiar, but no particular effort is taken to teach their meanings. It is after this that the teacher goes over the same ground, and with the help of the commentary, explains the meaning of the words and phrases one by one, until they are all understood. It is not usual for the beginner to attend much to the meaning of what he is learning to read and write, and where the labor of committing arbitrary characters is so great and irksome, experience has probably shown that it is not wise to attempt too many things at once. The boy has been familiarizing himself with their shapes as he sees them all the time around him, and he learns what they mean in a measure before he comes to school. The association of form with ideas, as he cons his lesson and writes their words, gradually strengthens, and results in that singular interdependence of the eye and ear so observable among the scholars of the far East. They trust to what is read to help in understanding what is heard much more than is the case in phonetic languages. No effort is made to facilitate the acquisition of the characters by the boys in school by arranging them according to their component parts; they are learned one by one, as boys are taught the names and appearance of minerals in a cabinet. The effects of a course of study like this, in which the powers of the tender mind are not developed by proper nourishment of truthful knowledge, can hardly be otherwise than to stunt the genius, and drill the faculties of the mind into a slavish adherence to venerated usage and dictation, making the intellects of Chinese students like the trees which their gardeners so toilsomely dwarf into pots and jars—plants, whose unnaturalness is congruous to the insipidity of their fruit.The number of years spent at school depends upon the means of the parents. Tradesmen, mechanics, and country gentlemen endeavor to give their sons a competent knowledge of the usual series of books, so that they can creditably manage the common affairs of life. No other branches of study are pursued than the classics and histories, and what will illustrate them, meanwhile giving much care and practice to composition. No arithmetic or any department of mathematics, nothing of the geography of their own or other countries, of natural philosophy, natural history, or scientific arts, nor the study of other languages, are attended to. Persons in these classes of society put their sons into shops or counting-houses to learn the routine of business with a knowledge of figures and the style of letter-writing; they are not kept at school more than three or four years, unless they mean to compete at the examinations. Working men, desirous of giving their sons a smattering, try to keep them at their books a year or two, but millions must of course grow up in utter ignorance. It is, however, an excellent policy for a state to keep up this universal honor paid to education where the labor is so great and the return so doubtful, for it is really the homage paid to the principles taught.Besides the common schools, there are grammar or high schools and colleges, but they are far less effective. In Canton, there are fourteen grammar schools and thirty colleges, some of which are quite ancient, but most of them are neglected. Three of the largest contain each about two hundred students and two or three professors. The chief object of these institutions is to instruct advanced scholars in composition and elegant writing; the tutors do a little to turn attention to general literature, but have neither the genius nor the means to make many advances. In rural districts students are encouraged to meet at stated times in the town-house, where the headman, or deputy of thesz’ortownship, examines them on themes previously proposed by him.[280]In large towns, the local officers, assisted by the gentry and graduates, hold annual examinations of students, at which premiums are given to the best essayists. At such an examination in Amoy in March, 1845, there were about a thousand candidates, forty of whom received sums varying from sixty to sixteen cents.One of the most notable, as well as the most ancient of collegiate institutions, is theKwoh-tsz’ Kien, or ‘School for the Sons of the State,’ whose extensive buildings in Peking, now empty and dilapidated, show how much easier it is to found and plan a good thing than to maintain its efficiency. This state school originated as early as the Chau dynasty, and the course of study as given in theRitual of Chauwas much the same three thousand years ago as at present. Its officers consisted of a rector, usually a high minister of state, aided by five councillors, two directors, two proctors, two secretaries, a librarian, two professors in each of the six halls, and latterly five others for each of the colleges for Bannermen. These halls are named Hall of the Pursuit of Wisdom, the Sincere of Heart, of True Virtue, of Noble Aspiration, of Broad Acquirements, and the Guidance of Nature. The curriculum was not intended to go beyond the classics and the six liberal arts of music, charioteering, archery, etiquette, writing, and mathematics; but as if to encourage the professors to “seek out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven,” as Solomon advises, they were told to take their students to the original sources of strategy, astronomy, engineering, music, law, and the like, and point out the defects and merits of each author. TheKwoh-tsz’ Kienpossesses now only the husk of its ancient goodness; and if its professors were not honored, and made eligible to be distinct magistrates after three years’ term, the buildings would soon be left altogether empty. Instead of reviving and rearranging it, the Chinese Governmenthas wisely supplanted it by a new college with its new professors and new course of studies—theTung-wăn Kwanmentioned on p.436. Native free schools, established by benevolent persons in city or country, are not uncommon, and serve to maintain the literary spirit; some may not be very long-lived, but others take their place. In Peking, each of the Banners has its school, and so has the Imperial Clan; retired officials contribute to schools opened for boys connected with their native districts living in the capital. Such efforts to promote education are expected from those who have obtained its high prizes.PROPORTION OF THOSE WHO CAN READ IN CHINA.How great a proportion of the people in China can read, is a difficult question to answer, for foreigners have had no means of learning the facts in the case, and the natives never go into such inquiries. More of the men in cities can read than in the country, and more in some provinces than in others. In the district of Nanhai, which forms part of the city of Canton, an imperfect examination led to the belief that nearly all the men are able to read, except fishermen, agriculturists, coolies, boat-people, and fuelers, and that two or three in ten devote their lives to literary pursuits. In less thickly settled districts, not more than four- or five-tenths, and even less, can read. In Macao, perhaps half of the men can read. From an examination of the hospital patients at Ningpo, one of the missionaries estimated the readers to form not more than five per cent. of the men; while another missionary at the same place, who made inquiry in a higher grade of society, reckoned them at twenty per cent. The villagers about Amoy are deplorably ignorant; one lady who had lived there over twenty years, writes that she had never found a woman who could read, but these were doubtless from among the poorer classes. It appears that as one goes north, the extent and thoroughness of education diminishes. Throughout the Empire the ability to understand books is not commensurate with the ability to read the characters, and both have been somewhat exaggerated. Owing to the manner in which education is commenced—learning the forms and sounds of characters before their meanings are understood—it comes to pass that many persons can call over the names of the characters while they do not comprehend in the least the sense of what they read. They canpick out a word here and there, it may be a phrase or a sentence, but they derive no clearer meaning from the text before them than a lad, who has just learned to scan, and has proceeded half through the Latin Reader, does from reading Virgil; while in both cases an intelligent audience, unacquainted with the facts, might justly infer that the reader understood what he was reading as well as his hearers did. Moreover, in the Chinese language, different subjects demand different characters; and although a man may be well versed in the classics or in fiction, he may be easily posed by being asked to explain a simple treatise in medicine or in mathematics, in consequence of the many new or unfamiliar words on every page. This is a serious obstacle in the way of obtaining a general acquaintance with books. The mind becomes weary with the labor of study where its toil is neither rewarded by knowledge nor beguiled by wit; consequently, few Chinese are well read in their natural literature. The study of books being regarded solely as the means wherewith to attain a definite end, it follows naturally that when a cultivated man has reached his goal he should feel little disposed to turn to these implements of his profession for either instruction or pleasure.Wealthy or official parents, who wish their sons to compete for literary honors, give them the advantages of a full course in reading and rhetoric under the best masters. Composition is the most difficult part of the training of a Chinese student, and requires unwearied application and a retentive memory. He who can most readily quote the classics, and approach the nearest to their terse, comprehensive, energetic diction and style, is,cæteris paribus, most likely to succeed; while the man who can most quickly throw off well rhythmed verses takes the palm from all competitors. In novels, the ability to compose elegant verses as fast as the pencil can fly is usually ascribed to the hero of the plot. How many of those who intend to compete for degrees attend at the district colleges or high schools is not known, but they are resorted to by students about the time of the examinations in order to make the acquaintance of those who are to compete with them. No public examinations take place in either day or private schools, nor do parents often visit them, but rewards for remarkable proficiency are occasionallyconferred. There is little gradation of studies, nor are any diplomas conferred on students to show that they have gone through a certain course. Punishments are severe, and the rattan or bamboo hangs conspicuously near the master, and its liberal use is considered necessary: “To educate without rigor, shows the teacher’s indolence,” is the doctrine, and by scolding, starving, castigation, and detention, the master tries to instil habits of obedience and compel his scholars to learn their task.Notwithstanding the high opinion in which education is held, the general diffusion of knowledge, and the respect paid to learning in comparison with mere title and wealth, the defects of the tuition here briefly described, in extent, means, purposes, and results, are very great. Such, too, must necessarily be the case until new principles and new information are infused into it. Considered in its best point of view, this system has effected all that it can in enlarging the understanding, purifying the heart, and strengthening the minds of the people; but in none of these, nor in any of the essential points at which a sound education aims (as we understand the matter), has it accomplished half that is needed. The stream never rises even as high as its source, and the teachings of Confucius and Mencius have done all that is possible to make their countrymen thinking, useful, and intelligent men.MODE OF EXAMINATION AND CONFERRING DEGREES.Turn we now from this brief sketch of primary education among the Chinese, to a description of the mode of examining students and conferring the degrees which have been made the passport to office, and learn what are the real merits of the system. Persons from almost every class of society may become candidates for degrees under the certificates of securities, but none are eligible for the second diploma who have not already received the first. It therefore happens that the republican license apparently allowed to well-nigh every subject, in reality reserves the prizes for the few most talented or wealthy persons in the community. A majority of the clever, learned, ambitious, and intelligent spirits in the land look forward to these examinations as the only field worthy of their efforts, and where they are most likely to find their equals and friends. How much betterfor the good of society, too, is this arena than the camp or the feudal court, the tournament or the monastery!EXAMINATION FOR THE DEGREE OF SIU-TSAI.There are four regular literary degrees, with some intermediate steps of a titular sort. The first is calledsiu-tsai, meaning ‘flowering talent,’ because of the promise held out of the future success of the scholar; it has often been rendered ‘bachelor of arts’ as its nearest equivalent. The examinations to obtain it are held under the supervision of thechíhienin a public building belonging to the district situated near his yamun; and the chief literary officer, calledhioh-ching, ‘corrector of learning,’ orkiao-yu, ‘teacher of the commands,’ has the immediate control. When assembled at the hall of examination, the district magistrate, the deputy chancellor, and prefect, having prepared the lists of the undergraduates and selected the themes, allow only one day for writing the essays. The number of candidates depends upon the population and literary spirit of the district; in the districts of Nanhai and Pwanyu, upward of two thousand persons competed for the prize in 1832, while in Hiangshan not half so many came together. The rule for apportioning them was at first according to the annual revenue. When the essays are handed in, they are looked over by the board of examiners, and the names of the successful students entered on a roll, and pasted upon the walls of the magistrate’s hall; this honor is calledhien ming,i.e., ‘having a name in the village.’ Out of the four thousand candidates referred to above, only thirteen in one district, and fourteen in the other, obtained a name in the village; the entire population of these two districts is not much under a million and a half. Many of the competitors at this primary tripos are unable to finish their essays in the day, others make errors in writing, and others show gross ignorance, all of which so greatly diminish their numbers, that only those who stand near the head of the list ofhien mingdo really or usually enter on the next trial before the prefect. But all have had an equal chance, and few complain that their performances were disregarded, for they can try as often as they please.Those who pass the first examination are entered as candidates for the second, which takes place in the chief town of thedepartment before the literary chancellor and the prefect, assisted by a literary magistrate calledkiao-shao, ‘giver of instructions;’ it is more rigorous than that held before thechíhien, though similar to it in nature. The prefect arranges the candidates from each district by themselves according to their standing on their several lists, and it is this vantage ground which makes the first trial in one’s native place so important to the ambitious scholar. The themes on which they have tested their scholarship are published for the information of friends and the other examiners. If the proportion given above of successful candidates at the district examinations hold for each district, there would not be more than two hundred students assembled at the prefect’s hall, but the number is somewhat increased by persons who have purchased the privilege; still the second trial is made among a small number in proportion to the first, and yet more trifling when compared with the amount of population. The names of the successful students at the second trial are exposed on the walls of the office, which is calledfu ming,i.e., ‘having a name in the department,’ and these only are eligible as candidates for the third trial. In addition to their knowledge of the classics, the candidates at this trial are often required to write off the text of theShing Yu, or ‘Sacred Edict,’ from memory, as this work consists of maxims for the guidance of officers. The literary chancellor exercises a superintendence over the previous examinations, and makes the circuit of the province to attend them in each department, twice in three years. There are various ranks among these educational officials, corresponding to the civilians in the province; transfers are occasionally made from one service to the other, and the oversight of the latter is always given at the examinations wherever they are held. Most of the literary officers, however, remain in their own line, as it is highly honorable and more permanent. At the third trial in the provincial capital, he confers the first degree ofsiu-tsaiupon those who are chosen out of the whole list as the best scholars.There are several classes of bachelors, depending somewhat on the manner in which they obtained their degree; those who get it in the manner here described take the precedence. Thepossession of this degree protects the person from corporeal punishment, raises him above the common people, renders him a conspicuous man in his native place, and eligible to enter the triennial examination for the second degree. Those who have more money than learning, purchase this degree for sums varying from $200 up to $1,000, and even higher; in later years, according to the necessities of the government, diplomas have been sold as low as $25 to $50, but such men seldom rise. They are calledkien-săng, and, as might be supposed, are looked upon somewhat contemptuously by those who have passed through the regular examinations, and “won the battle with their own lance.” A degree calledkung-săngis purchased by or bestowed upon thesiu-tsai, but is so generally recognized that it has almost become a fifth degree, which does not entitle them to the full honors of akü-jin. What proportion of scholars are rewarded by degrees is not known, but it is a small number compared with the candidates. A graduate of considerable intelligence at Ningpo estimated the number ofsiu-tsaiin that city at four hundred, and in the department at nearly a thousand. In Canton City, the number ofshin-kin, or gentry, who are allowed to wear the sash of honor, and have obtained literary degrees, is not over three hundred; but in the whole province there are about twelve thousand bachelors in a population of nineteen millions. Those who have not becomesiu-tsaiare still regarded as under the oversight of thekiao-yuand others of his class, who still receive their essays; but the body of provincialsiu-tsaiare obliged to report themselves and attend the prefectural tripos before the chancellor, under penalty of losing all the privileges and rank obtained. This law brings them before those who may take cognizance of misdeeds, for these men are often very oppressive and troublesome to their countrymen. The graduates in each district are placed under the control of a chief, whose power is almost equal to the deputy chancellor’s; from them are taken the two securities required by each applicant to enter the tripos.The candidates forsiu-tsaiare narrowly examined when they enter the hall, their pockets, shoes, wadded robes, and ink-stones, all being searched, lest precomposed essays or other aids to composition be smuggled in. When they are all seated in the hall in their proper places, the wickets, doors, windows, and other entrances are all guarded, and pasted over with strips of paper. The room is filled with anxious competitors arranged in long seats, pencil in hand, and ready to begin. The theme is given out, and every one immediately writes off his essay, carefully noting how many characters he erases in composing it, and hands it up to the board of examiners; the whole day is allotted to the task, and a signal-gun announces the hour when the doors are thrown open, and the students can disperse. A man is liable to lose his acquired honor ofsiu-tsaiif at a subsequent inspection he is found to have discarded his studies, and he is therefore impelled to pursue them in order to maintain his influence, even if he does not reach the next degree.[281]EXAMINATION FOR THE SECOND DEGREE.Since the first degree is sometimes procured by influence and money, it is the examination for the second, calledkü-jin, or ‘promoted men,’ held triennially in the provincial capitals before two imperial commissioners, that separates the candidates into students and officers, though all the students who receive a diploma by no means become officers. This examination is held at the same time in all the eighteen provincial capitals, viz., on the 9th, 12th, and 15th days of the eighth moon, or about the middle of September; while it is going on, the city appears exceedingly animated, in consequence of the great number of relatives and friends assembled with the students. The persons who preside at the examination, besides the imperial commissioners, are ten provincial officers, with the futai at their head, who jointly form a board of examiners, and decide upon the merits of the essays. The number of candidates who entered the lists at Canton in the years 1828 and 1831 was 4,800; in 1832 there were 6,000, which is nearer the usual number. In the largest provinces it reaches as many as 7,000, 8,000, and upward.INTERIOR OF KUNG YUEN, OR ‘EXAMINATION HALL,’ PEKING.Previous to entering theKung Yuen, each candidate has given in all the necessary proofs and particulars, which entitlehim to a cell, and receives the ticket which designates the one he is to occupy. He enters the night before, and is searched to see that no manuscript essay, “skinning paper,” or miniature edition of the classics, is secreted on his person. If anything of the sort is discovered, he is punished with the cangue, degraded from his first degree, and forbidden again to compete at the examination; his father and tutor are likewise punished. Some of the pieces written for this purpose are marvels of penmanship, and the most finished compositions; one set contained an essay on every sentence in the Four Books, each of the sheets covered with hundreds of characters, and the paper so thin that they could be easily read through it. The practice is, however, quite common, notwithstanding the penalties, and one censor requested a law to be passed forbidding small editions to be printed, and booksellers’ shops to be searched for them.METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXAMINATION.The general arrangement of the examination halls in all the provincial capitals is alike. A description of that at Canton, given on page166, is typical of them all.The Hall at Peking, situated on the eastern side, not far from the observatory, contains ten thousand cells, and these do not always suffice for the host which assembles. The Hall at Fuhchau is equally large; each cell is a little higher than a man’s head, and is open on but one side—letting in more rain and wind during inclement days than is comfortable. Confinement in these cramped cells is so irksome as to frequently cause the death of aged students, who are unable to sustain the fatigue, but who still enter the arena in hopes of at last succeeding. Cases have occurred where father, son, and grandson, appeared at the same time to compete for the same prize. Dr. Martin[282]found that out of a list of ninety-nine successful competitors for the second degree, sixteen were over forty years of age, one sixty-two, and one eighty-three. The average age of the whole number was over thirty—while in comparison with like statistics for the third degree, a proportionate increase might be looked for. The unpleasantness of the strait cell is much increased by the smoke arising from the cooking, and by the heat of the weather. All servants are provided by government, but each candidate takes in the rice and fuel which he needs, together with cakes, tea, candles, bedding, etc., as he can afford; no one can go in with him. The enclosure presents a bustling scene during the examination, and its interest intensifies until the names of the successful scholars are published. Should a student die in his cell, the body is pulled through a hole made in the wall of the enclosure, and left there for his friends to carry away. Whenever a candidate breaks any of the prescribed regulations of the contest, his name and offence are reported, and his name is “pasted out” by placarding it on the outer door of the hall, after which he is not allowed to enter until another examination comes around. More than a hundred persons are thus “pasted out” each season, but no heavy disgrace seems to attach to them in consequence.On the first day after the doors have been sealed up, four themes are selected by the examiners from the Four Books, one of which subjects must be discussed in a poetical essay. The minimum length of the compositions is a hundred characters, and they must be written plainly and elegantly, and sent in without any names attached. In 1828, the acumen of four thousand eight hundred candidates was exercised during the first day on these themes: “Tsăng-tsz’ said, ‘To possess ability, and yet ask of those who do not; to know much, and yet inquire of those who know little; to possess, and yet appear not to possess; to be full, and yet appear empty.’”—“He took hold of things by the two extremes, and in his treatment of the people maintained the golden medium.”—“A man from his youth studies eight principles, and when he arrives at manhood, he wishes to reduce them to practice.”—The fourth essay, to be written in pentameters, had for its subject, “The sound of the oar, and the green of the hills and water.” Among the themes given out in 1843, were these: “He who is sincere will be intelligent, and the intelligent man will be faithful.”—“In carrying out benevolence, there are no rules.” In 1835, one was, “He acts as he ought, both to the common people and official men, receives his revenue from Heaven, and by it is protected and highly esteemed.” Among other more practical texts are the following: “Fire-arms began with the use of rockets in the Chaudynasty; in what book do we first meet with the word for cannon? Is the defence of Kaifung fu its first recorded use? Kublai khan, it is said, obtained cannon of a new kind; from whom did he obtain them? When the Ming Emperors, in the reign of Yungloh, invaded Cochinchina, they obtained a kind of cannon called the weapons of the gods; can you give an account of their origin?”The three or five themes (for the number seems to be optional) selected from the Five Classics are similar to these, but as those works are regarded as more recondite than the Four Books, so must the essayists try to take a higher style. An officer goes around to gather in the papers, which are first handed to a body of scholars in waiting, who look them over to see if the prescribed rules have all been observed, and reject those which infringe them. The rest are then copied in red ink, to prevent recognition of the handwriting, and the original manuscripts given to the governor. The copies are submitted to another class of old scholars for their criticism, each of whom marks the essays he deems best with a red circle, and these only are placed in the hands of the chancellors sent from Peking for their decision. The examining board are aided by twelve scholars of repute, to each of whom forty or fifty essays are given to read. The students are dismissed during the night of the ninth day, and reassemble before sunrise of the eleventh; all whose essays were rejected on the first review are refused entrance to their cells. At the second tripos, five themes are given out from the Five Classics, and everything proceeds as before in respect to the disposal of the manuscripts. The students are liberated early on the thirteenth as before by companies, under a salute and music as they leave the great door; their number has been much reduced by this time. On the next morning the roll is called, and those who answer to their names for the last struggle are furnished with five themes for essays, one for poetry, taken from the classics or histories, upon doubtful matters of government, or such problems as might arise in law and finance. These questions take even a more extended range, including topics relating to the laws, history, geography, and customs of the Empire in former times, doubtful points touching the classicalworks, and the interpretation of obscure passages, and biographical notices of statesmen. It is forbidden, however, to discuss any points relating to the policy of the present family, or the character and learning of living statesmen; but the conduct of their rulers is now and then alluded to by the candidates. Manuals of questions on such subjects as candidates are examined in, are commonly exposed for sale in shops about the time of these examinations.[283]By noon of the sixteenth day of the eighth moon, all the candidates throughout the Empire have left their halls, and the examination is over.EXAMPLE OF AN ESSAY.The manner in which subjects are handled may be readily illustrated by introducing an essay upon this theme: “When persons in high stations are sincere in the performance of relative and domestic duties, the people generally will be stimulated to the practice of virtue.” It is a fair specimen of the jejune style of Chinese essayists, and the mode of reasoning in a circle which pervades their writings.“When the upper classes are really virtuous, the common people will inevitably become so. For, though the sincere performance of relative duties by superiors does not originate in a wish to stimulate the people, yet the people do become virtuous, which is a proof of the effect of sincerity. As benevolence is the radical principle of all good government in the world, so also benevolence is the radical principle of relative duties amongst the people. Traced back to its source, benevolent feeling refers to a first progenitor; traced forward, it branches out to a hundred generations yet to come. The source of personal existence is one’s parents, the relations which originate from Heaven are most intimate; and that in which natural feeling blends is felt most deeply. That which is given by Heaven and by natural feeling to all, is done without any distinction between noble or ignoble. One feeling pervades all. My thoughts now refer to him who is placed in a station of eminence, and who may be called a good man. The good man who is placed in an eminent station, ought to lead forward the practice of virtue; but the way to do so is to begin with his own relations, and perform his duties to them.“In the middle ages of antiquity, the minds of the people were not yet dissipated—how came it that they were not humble and observant of relative duties, when they were taught the principles of the five social relations? This having been the case, makes it evident that the enlightening of the people must depend entirely on the cordial performance of immediate relative duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who appears at the head of all others in illustrating by his practice the relative duties.To ages nearer to our own, the manners of the people were not far removed from the dutiful; how came it that any were disobedient to parents, and without brotherly affection, and that it was yet necessary to restrain men by inflicting the eight forms of punishment? This having been the case, shows that in the various modes of obtaining promotion in the state, there is nothing regarded of more importance than filial and fraternal duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who stands forth as an example of the performance of relative duties.“The difference between a person filling a high station and one of the common people, consists in the department assigned them, not in their relation to Heaven; it consists in a difference of rank, not in a difference of natural feeling; but the common people constantly observe the sincere performance of relative duties in people of high stations. In being at the head of a family and preserving order amongst the persons of which it is composed, there should be sincere attention to politeness and decorum. A good man placed in a high station says, ‘Who of all these are not related to me, and shall I receive them with mere external forms?’ The elegant entertainment, the neatly arranged tables, and the exhilarating song, some men esteem mere forms, but the good man esteems that which dictates them as a divinely instilled feeling, and attends to it with a truly benevolent heart. And who of the common people does not feel a share of the delight arising from fathers, and brothers, and kindred? Is this joy resigned entirely to princes and kings?“In favors conferred to display the benignity of a sovereign, there should be sincerity in the kindness done. The good man says, ‘Are not all these persons whom I love, and shall I merely enrich them by largesses?’ He gives a branch as the sceptre of authority to a delicate younger brother, and to another he gives a kingdom with his best instructions. Some men deem this as merely extraordinary good fortune, but the good man esteems it the exercise of a virtue of the first order, and the effort of inexpressible benevolence. But have the common people no regard for the spring whence the water flows, nor for the root which gives life to the tree and its branches? Have they no regard for their kindred? It is necessary both to reprehend and to urge them to exercise these feelings. The good man in a high station is sincere in the performance of relative duties, because to do so is virtuous, and not on account of the common people. But the people, without knowing whence the impulse comes, with joy and delight are influenced to act with zeal in this career of virtue; the moral distillation proceeds with rapidity, and a vast change is effected.“The rank of men is exceedingly different; some fill the imperial throne, but every one equally wishes to do his utmost to accomplish his duty; and success depends on every individual himself. The upper classes begin and pour the wine into the rich goblet; the poor man sows his grain to maintain his parents; the men in high stations grasp the silver bowl, the poor present a pigeon; they arouse each other to unwearied cheerful efforts, and the principles implanted by Heaven are moved to action. Some things are difficult to be done, except by those who possess the glory of national rule; but the kind feeling is what I myself possess, and may increase to an unlimited degree.The prince may write verses appropriate to his vine bower; the poor man can think of his gourd shelter; the prince may sing his classic odes on fraternal regards; the poor man can muse on his more simple allusions to the same subject, and asleep or awake indulge his recollections; for the feeling is instilled into his nature. When the people are aroused to relative virtues, they will be sincere; for where are there any of the common people that do not desire to perform relative duties? But without the upper classes performing relative duties, this virtuous desire would have no point from which to originate, and therefore it is said, ‘Good men in high stations, as a general at the head of his armies, will lead forward the world to the practice of social virtues.’”The discipline of mind and memory which these examinations draw out furnishes a grade of intellect which only needs the friction and experience of public life to make statesmen out of scholars, and goes far to account for the influence of Chinese in Asia. The books studied in preparation for such trials must be remembered with extraordinary accuracy, though we may wish they contained more truth and better science. The following are among the questions proposed in 1853, and must be taken as an average: “In the Han dynasty, there were three commentators on theYih King, whose explanations, and divisions into chapters and sentences were all different: can you give an account of them?”—“Sz’ma Tsien took the classics and ancient records in arranging his history according to their facts; some have accused him of unduly exalting the Taoists and thinking too highly of wealth and power. Pan Ku is clear and comprehensive, but on Astronomy and the Five Elements, he has written more than enough. Give examples and proof of these two statements.”—“Chin Shao had admirable abilities for historical writings. In hisSan Kwoh Chíhe has depreciated Chu-koh Liang, and made very light of Í and Í, two other celebrated characters. What does he say of them?” This kind of question involves a wide range of reading within the native literature, though it of course contracts the mind to look upon that literature as containing all that is worth anything in the world.
THE HIAO KING, OR CANONS OF FILIAL DUTY.
Next in course to this rather trifling primer comes theHiao King, or ‘Canons of Filial Duty,’ a short tractate of only 1,903 characters, which purports to be the record of a conversation held between Confucius and his disciple Tsăng Tsan on the principles of filial piety. Its authenticity has been disputed by critics, but their doubts are not shared by their countrymen, who commit it to memory as the words of the sage. The legend is that a copy was discovered in the wall of his dwelling, and compared with another secreted by Yen Chí at the burning of the books; from the two Liu Hiang chose eighteen of the chapters contained in it as alone genuine, and in this shape it has since remained. The sixth section of the Imperial Catalogue is entirely devoted to writers on theHiao King, one of whom wasYuentsung, an emperor of the Tang dynasty (A.D.733). Another comment was published in 32 volumes in Kanghí’s reign, discussing the whole subject in one hundred chapters. Though it does not share in critical eyes the confidence accorded to the nine classics, the brevity and subject matter of this work have commended it to teachers as one of the best books in the language to be placed in the hands of their scholars; thus its influence has been great and enduring. It has been translated by Bridgman, who regards the first six sections as the words of Confucius, while the other twelve contain his ideas. Two quotations are all that need be here given to show its character.
Section I.—On the origin and nature of filial duty.—Filial duty is the root of virtue, and the stem from which instruction in the moral principle springs. Sit down, and I will explain this to you. The first thing which filial duty requires of us is, that we carefully preserve from all injury, and in a perfect state, the bodies which we have received from our parents. And when we acquire for ourselves a station in the world, we should regulate our conduct by correct principles, so as to transmit our names to future generations, and reflect glory on our parents. This is the ultimate aim of filial duty. Thus it commences in attention to parents, is continued through a course of services rendered to the prince, and is completed by the elevation of ourselves. It is said in theBook of Odes,Ever think of your ancestors;Reproducing their virtue.Section V.—On the attention of scholars to filial duty.—With the same love that they serve their fathers, they should serve their mothers; and with the same respect that they serve their fathers, they should serve their prince; unmixed love, then, will be the offering they make to their mothers; unfeigned respect the tribute they bring to their prince; while toward their fathers both these will be combined. Therefore they serve their prince with filial duty and are faithful to him; they serve their superiors with respect and are obedient to them. By constant obedience and faithfulness toward those who are above them, they are enabled to preserve their stations and emoluments, and to offer the sacrifices which are due to their deceased ancestors and parents. Such is the influence of filial piety when performed by scholars. It is said in theBook of Odes,When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]
Section I.—On the origin and nature of filial duty.—Filial duty is the root of virtue, and the stem from which instruction in the moral principle springs. Sit down, and I will explain this to you. The first thing which filial duty requires of us is, that we carefully preserve from all injury, and in a perfect state, the bodies which we have received from our parents. And when we acquire for ourselves a station in the world, we should regulate our conduct by correct principles, so as to transmit our names to future generations, and reflect glory on our parents. This is the ultimate aim of filial duty. Thus it commences in attention to parents, is continued through a course of services rendered to the prince, and is completed by the elevation of ourselves. It is said in theBook of Odes,
Ever think of your ancestors;Reproducing their virtue.
Ever think of your ancestors;Reproducing their virtue.
Ever think of your ancestors;Reproducing their virtue.
Ever think of your ancestors;
Reproducing their virtue.
Section V.—On the attention of scholars to filial duty.—With the same love that they serve their fathers, they should serve their mothers; and with the same respect that they serve their fathers, they should serve their prince; unmixed love, then, will be the offering they make to their mothers; unfeigned respect the tribute they bring to their prince; while toward their fathers both these will be combined. Therefore they serve their prince with filial duty and are faithful to him; they serve their superiors with respect and are obedient to them. By constant obedience and faithfulness toward those who are above them, they are enabled to preserve their stations and emoluments, and to offer the sacrifices which are due to their deceased ancestors and parents. Such is the influence of filial piety when performed by scholars. It is said in theBook of Odes,
When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]
When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]
When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]
When the dawn is breaking, and I cannot sleep,
The thoughts in my breast are of our parents.[278]
The highest place in the list of virtues and obligations is accorded to filial duty, not only in this, but in other writings of Confucius and those of his school. “There are,” to quote from another section, “three thousand crimes to which one or the other of the five kinds of punishment is attached as a penalty; and of these no one is greater than disobedience to parents. When ministers exercise control over the monarch, then there is no supremacy; when the maxims of the sages are set aside, then the law is abrogated; and so those who disregard filial duty are as though they had no parents. These three evils prepare the way for universal rebellion.”
This social virtue has been highly lauded by all Chinese writers, and its observance inculcated upon youth and children by precept and example. Stories are written to show the good effects of obedience, and the bad results of its contrary sin, which are put into their hands, and form also subjects for pictorial illustration, stanzas for poetry, and materials for conversation. The following examples are taken from a toy-book of this sort, called theTwenty-four Filials, one of the most popular collections on the subject.
EXTRACTS FROM THE TWENTY-FOUR FILIALS.
“During the Chau dynasty there lived a lad named Tsăng Tsan (also Tsz’-yu), who served his mother very dutifully. Tsăng was in the habit of going to the hills to collect fagots; and once, while he was thus absent, many guests came to his house, toward whom his mother was at a loss how to act. She, while expecting her son, who delayed his return, began to gnaw her fingers. Tsăng suddenly felt a pain in his heart, and took up his bundle of fagots in order to return home; and when he saw his mother, he kneeled and begged to know what was the cause of her anxiety. She replied, ‘there have been some guests here, who came from a great distance, and I bit my finger in order to arouse you to return to me.’“In the Chau dynasty lived Chung Yu, named also Tsz’-lu, who, because his family was poor, usually ate herbs and coarse pulse; and he also went more than a hundredlíto procure rice for his parents. Afterward, when they were dead, he went south to the country of Tsu, where he was made commander of a hundred companies of chariots; there he became rich, storing up grain in myriads of measures, reclining upon cushions, and eating food served to him in numerous dishes; but sighing, he said, ‘Although I should now desire to eat coarse herbs and bring rice for my parents, it cannot be!’“In the Chau dynasty there flourished the venerable Lai, who was very obedient and reverential toward his parents, manifesting his dutifulness by exerting himself to provide them with every delicacy. Although upward ofseventy years of age, he declared that he was not yet old; and usually dressed himself in parti-colored embroidered garments, and like a child would playfully stand by the side of his parents. He would also take up buckets of water, and try to carry them into the house; but feigning to slip, would fall to the ground, wailing and crying like a child: and all these things he did in order to divert his parents.“During the Han dynasty lived Tung Yung, whose family was so very poor that when his father died he was obliged to sell himself in order to procure money to bury his remains. After this he went to another place to gain the means of redeeming himself; and on his way he met a lady who desired to become his wife, and go with him to his master’s residence. She went with him, and wove three hundred pieces of silk, which being completed in two months, they returned home; on the way, having reached the shade of the cassia tree where they before met, the lady bowed and ascending, vanished from his sight.“During the Han dynasty lived Ting Lan, whose parents both died when he was young, before he could obey and support them; and he reflected that for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused them, no recompense had yet been given. He then carved wooden images of his parents, and served them as if they had been alive. For a long time his wife would not reverence them; but one day, taking a bodkin, she in derision pricked their fingers. Blood immediately flowed from the wound; and seeing Ting coming, the images wept. He examined into the circumstances, and forthwith divorced his wife.“In the days of the Han dynasty lived Koh Kü, who was very poor. He had one child three years old; and such was his poverty that his mother usually divided her portion of food with this little one. Koh says to his wife, ‘We are so poor that our mother cannot be supported, for the child divides with her the portion of food that belongs to her. Why not bury this child? Another child may be born to us, but a mother once gone will never return.’ His wife did not venture to object to the proposal; and Koh immediately dug a hole of about three cubits deep, when suddenly he lighted upon a pot of gold, and on the metal read the following inscription: ‘Heaven bestows this treasure upon Koh Kü, the dutiful son; the magistrate may not seize it, nor shall the neighbors take it from him.’“Măng Tsung, who lived in the Tsin dynasty, when young lost his father. His mother was very sick; and one winter’s day she longed to taste a soup made of bamboo sprouts, but Măng could not procure any. At last he went into the grove of bamboos, clasped the trees with his hands, and wept bitterly. His filial affection moved nature, and the ground slowly opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried home. He made a soup with them, of which his mother ate and immediately recovered from her malady.“Wu Măng, a lad eight years of age, who lived under the Tsin dynasty, was very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not afford to furnish their bed with mosquito-curtains; and every summer’s night, myriads of mosquitos attacked them unrestrainedly, feasting upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would not drive them away, lest they should go to his parents, and annoy them. Such was his affection.”[279]
“During the Chau dynasty there lived a lad named Tsăng Tsan (also Tsz’-yu), who served his mother very dutifully. Tsăng was in the habit of going to the hills to collect fagots; and once, while he was thus absent, many guests came to his house, toward whom his mother was at a loss how to act. She, while expecting her son, who delayed his return, began to gnaw her fingers. Tsăng suddenly felt a pain in his heart, and took up his bundle of fagots in order to return home; and when he saw his mother, he kneeled and begged to know what was the cause of her anxiety. She replied, ‘there have been some guests here, who came from a great distance, and I bit my finger in order to arouse you to return to me.’
“In the Chau dynasty lived Chung Yu, named also Tsz’-lu, who, because his family was poor, usually ate herbs and coarse pulse; and he also went more than a hundredlíto procure rice for his parents. Afterward, when they were dead, he went south to the country of Tsu, where he was made commander of a hundred companies of chariots; there he became rich, storing up grain in myriads of measures, reclining upon cushions, and eating food served to him in numerous dishes; but sighing, he said, ‘Although I should now desire to eat coarse herbs and bring rice for my parents, it cannot be!’
“In the Chau dynasty there flourished the venerable Lai, who was very obedient and reverential toward his parents, manifesting his dutifulness by exerting himself to provide them with every delicacy. Although upward ofseventy years of age, he declared that he was not yet old; and usually dressed himself in parti-colored embroidered garments, and like a child would playfully stand by the side of his parents. He would also take up buckets of water, and try to carry them into the house; but feigning to slip, would fall to the ground, wailing and crying like a child: and all these things he did in order to divert his parents.
“During the Han dynasty lived Tung Yung, whose family was so very poor that when his father died he was obliged to sell himself in order to procure money to bury his remains. After this he went to another place to gain the means of redeeming himself; and on his way he met a lady who desired to become his wife, and go with him to his master’s residence. She went with him, and wove three hundred pieces of silk, which being completed in two months, they returned home; on the way, having reached the shade of the cassia tree where they before met, the lady bowed and ascending, vanished from his sight.
“During the Han dynasty lived Ting Lan, whose parents both died when he was young, before he could obey and support them; and he reflected that for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused them, no recompense had yet been given. He then carved wooden images of his parents, and served them as if they had been alive. For a long time his wife would not reverence them; but one day, taking a bodkin, she in derision pricked their fingers. Blood immediately flowed from the wound; and seeing Ting coming, the images wept. He examined into the circumstances, and forthwith divorced his wife.
“In the days of the Han dynasty lived Koh Kü, who was very poor. He had one child three years old; and such was his poverty that his mother usually divided her portion of food with this little one. Koh says to his wife, ‘We are so poor that our mother cannot be supported, for the child divides with her the portion of food that belongs to her. Why not bury this child? Another child may be born to us, but a mother once gone will never return.’ His wife did not venture to object to the proposal; and Koh immediately dug a hole of about three cubits deep, when suddenly he lighted upon a pot of gold, and on the metal read the following inscription: ‘Heaven bestows this treasure upon Koh Kü, the dutiful son; the magistrate may not seize it, nor shall the neighbors take it from him.’
“Măng Tsung, who lived in the Tsin dynasty, when young lost his father. His mother was very sick; and one winter’s day she longed to taste a soup made of bamboo sprouts, but Măng could not procure any. At last he went into the grove of bamboos, clasped the trees with his hands, and wept bitterly. His filial affection moved nature, and the ground slowly opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried home. He made a soup with them, of which his mother ate and immediately recovered from her malady.
“Wu Măng, a lad eight years of age, who lived under the Tsin dynasty, was very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not afford to furnish their bed with mosquito-curtains; and every summer’s night, myriads of mosquitos attacked them unrestrainedly, feasting upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would not drive them away, lest they should go to his parents, and annoy them. Such was his affection.”[279]
THE SIAO HIOH, OR JUVENILE INSTRUCTOR.
The last book learned before entering on the classics has had almost as great an influence as any of them, and none of the works of later scholars are so well calculated to show the ideas of the Chinese in all ages upon the principles of education, intercourse of life, and rules of conduct as this; precepts are illustrated by examples, and the examples referred back to precepts for their moving cause. This is theSiao Hioh, or “Juvenile Instructor,” and was intended by Chu Hí, its author, as a counterpart of theTa Hiao, on which he had written a commentary. It has had more than fifty commentators, one of whom says, “We confide in theSiao Hiohas we do in the gods, and revere it as we do our parents.” It is divided into two books, the “fountain of learning,” and “the stream flowing from it,” arranged in 20 chapters and 385 short sections. The first book has four parts and treats of the first principles of education; of the duties we owe our kindred, rulers, and fellow-men, of those we owe ourselves in regard to study, demeanor, food, and dress; and lastly gives numerous examples from ancient history, beginning with very early times down to the end of the Chau dynasty,B.C.249, confirmatory of the maxims inculcated, and the good effects resulting from their observance. The second book contains, in its first part, a collection of wise sayings of eminent men who flourished afterB.C.200, succeeded by a series of examples of distinguished persons calculated to show the effects of good principles; both designed to establish the truth of the teachings of the first book. One or two quotations, themselves extracted from other works, will suffice to show something of its contents.
“Confucius said, ‘Friends must sharply and frankly admonish each other, and brothers must be gentle toward one another.’”“Tsz’-kung, asking about friendship, Confucius said, ‘Faithfully to inform and kindly to instruct another is the duty of a friend; if he is not tractable, desist; do not disgrace yourself.’”“Whoever enters with his guests, yields precedence to them at every door; when they reach the innermost one, he begs leave to go in and arrange the seats, and then returns to receive the guests; and after they have repeatedly declined he bows to them and enters. He passes through the right door, they through the left. He ascends the eastern, they the western steps. If a guest be of a lower grade, he must approach the steps of the host, while the lattermust repeatedly decline this attention; then the guest may return to the western steps, he ascending, both host and guest must mutually yield precedence: then the host must ascend first, and the guests follow. From step to step they must bring their feet together, gradually ascending—those on the east moving the right foot first, those on the west the left.”
“Confucius said, ‘Friends must sharply and frankly admonish each other, and brothers must be gentle toward one another.’”
“Tsz’-kung, asking about friendship, Confucius said, ‘Faithfully to inform and kindly to instruct another is the duty of a friend; if he is not tractable, desist; do not disgrace yourself.’”
“Whoever enters with his guests, yields precedence to them at every door; when they reach the innermost one, he begs leave to go in and arrange the seats, and then returns to receive the guests; and after they have repeatedly declined he bows to them and enters. He passes through the right door, they through the left. He ascends the eastern, they the western steps. If a guest be of a lower grade, he must approach the steps of the host, while the lattermust repeatedly decline this attention; then the guest may return to the western steps, he ascending, both host and guest must mutually yield precedence: then the host must ascend first, and the guests follow. From step to step they must bring their feet together, gradually ascending—those on the east moving the right foot first, those on the west the left.”
The great influence which these six school-books have had is owing to their formative power on youthful minds, a large proportion of whom never go beyond them (either from want of time, means, or desire), but are really here furnished with the kernel of their best literature.
HABITS OF STUDY—SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES.
The tedium of memorizing these unmeaning sounds is relieved by writing the characters on thin paper placed over copy slips. The writing and the reading lessons are the same, and both are continued for a year or two until the forms and sounds of a few thousand characters are made familiar, but no particular effort is taken to teach their meanings. It is after this that the teacher goes over the same ground, and with the help of the commentary, explains the meaning of the words and phrases one by one, until they are all understood. It is not usual for the beginner to attend much to the meaning of what he is learning to read and write, and where the labor of committing arbitrary characters is so great and irksome, experience has probably shown that it is not wise to attempt too many things at once. The boy has been familiarizing himself with their shapes as he sees them all the time around him, and he learns what they mean in a measure before he comes to school. The association of form with ideas, as he cons his lesson and writes their words, gradually strengthens, and results in that singular interdependence of the eye and ear so observable among the scholars of the far East. They trust to what is read to help in understanding what is heard much more than is the case in phonetic languages. No effort is made to facilitate the acquisition of the characters by the boys in school by arranging them according to their component parts; they are learned one by one, as boys are taught the names and appearance of minerals in a cabinet. The effects of a course of study like this, in which the powers of the tender mind are not developed by proper nourishment of truthful knowledge, can hardly be otherwise than to stunt the genius, and drill the faculties of the mind into a slavish adherence to venerated usage and dictation, making the intellects of Chinese students like the trees which their gardeners so toilsomely dwarf into pots and jars—plants, whose unnaturalness is congruous to the insipidity of their fruit.
The number of years spent at school depends upon the means of the parents. Tradesmen, mechanics, and country gentlemen endeavor to give their sons a competent knowledge of the usual series of books, so that they can creditably manage the common affairs of life. No other branches of study are pursued than the classics and histories, and what will illustrate them, meanwhile giving much care and practice to composition. No arithmetic or any department of mathematics, nothing of the geography of their own or other countries, of natural philosophy, natural history, or scientific arts, nor the study of other languages, are attended to. Persons in these classes of society put their sons into shops or counting-houses to learn the routine of business with a knowledge of figures and the style of letter-writing; they are not kept at school more than three or four years, unless they mean to compete at the examinations. Working men, desirous of giving their sons a smattering, try to keep them at their books a year or two, but millions must of course grow up in utter ignorance. It is, however, an excellent policy for a state to keep up this universal honor paid to education where the labor is so great and the return so doubtful, for it is really the homage paid to the principles taught.
Besides the common schools, there are grammar or high schools and colleges, but they are far less effective. In Canton, there are fourteen grammar schools and thirty colleges, some of which are quite ancient, but most of them are neglected. Three of the largest contain each about two hundred students and two or three professors. The chief object of these institutions is to instruct advanced scholars in composition and elegant writing; the tutors do a little to turn attention to general literature, but have neither the genius nor the means to make many advances. In rural districts students are encouraged to meet at stated times in the town-house, where the headman, or deputy of thesz’ortownship, examines them on themes previously proposed by him.[280]In large towns, the local officers, assisted by the gentry and graduates, hold annual examinations of students, at which premiums are given to the best essayists. At such an examination in Amoy in March, 1845, there were about a thousand candidates, forty of whom received sums varying from sixty to sixteen cents.
One of the most notable, as well as the most ancient of collegiate institutions, is theKwoh-tsz’ Kien, or ‘School for the Sons of the State,’ whose extensive buildings in Peking, now empty and dilapidated, show how much easier it is to found and plan a good thing than to maintain its efficiency. This state school originated as early as the Chau dynasty, and the course of study as given in theRitual of Chauwas much the same three thousand years ago as at present. Its officers consisted of a rector, usually a high minister of state, aided by five councillors, two directors, two proctors, two secretaries, a librarian, two professors in each of the six halls, and latterly five others for each of the colleges for Bannermen. These halls are named Hall of the Pursuit of Wisdom, the Sincere of Heart, of True Virtue, of Noble Aspiration, of Broad Acquirements, and the Guidance of Nature. The curriculum was not intended to go beyond the classics and the six liberal arts of music, charioteering, archery, etiquette, writing, and mathematics; but as if to encourage the professors to “seek out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven,” as Solomon advises, they were told to take their students to the original sources of strategy, astronomy, engineering, music, law, and the like, and point out the defects and merits of each author. TheKwoh-tsz’ Kienpossesses now only the husk of its ancient goodness; and if its professors were not honored, and made eligible to be distinct magistrates after three years’ term, the buildings would soon be left altogether empty. Instead of reviving and rearranging it, the Chinese Governmenthas wisely supplanted it by a new college with its new professors and new course of studies—theTung-wăn Kwanmentioned on p.436. Native free schools, established by benevolent persons in city or country, are not uncommon, and serve to maintain the literary spirit; some may not be very long-lived, but others take their place. In Peking, each of the Banners has its school, and so has the Imperial Clan; retired officials contribute to schools opened for boys connected with their native districts living in the capital. Such efforts to promote education are expected from those who have obtained its high prizes.
PROPORTION OF THOSE WHO CAN READ IN CHINA.
How great a proportion of the people in China can read, is a difficult question to answer, for foreigners have had no means of learning the facts in the case, and the natives never go into such inquiries. More of the men in cities can read than in the country, and more in some provinces than in others. In the district of Nanhai, which forms part of the city of Canton, an imperfect examination led to the belief that nearly all the men are able to read, except fishermen, agriculturists, coolies, boat-people, and fuelers, and that two or three in ten devote their lives to literary pursuits. In less thickly settled districts, not more than four- or five-tenths, and even less, can read. In Macao, perhaps half of the men can read. From an examination of the hospital patients at Ningpo, one of the missionaries estimated the readers to form not more than five per cent. of the men; while another missionary at the same place, who made inquiry in a higher grade of society, reckoned them at twenty per cent. The villagers about Amoy are deplorably ignorant; one lady who had lived there over twenty years, writes that she had never found a woman who could read, but these were doubtless from among the poorer classes. It appears that as one goes north, the extent and thoroughness of education diminishes. Throughout the Empire the ability to understand books is not commensurate with the ability to read the characters, and both have been somewhat exaggerated. Owing to the manner in which education is commenced—learning the forms and sounds of characters before their meanings are understood—it comes to pass that many persons can call over the names of the characters while they do not comprehend in the least the sense of what they read. They canpick out a word here and there, it may be a phrase or a sentence, but they derive no clearer meaning from the text before them than a lad, who has just learned to scan, and has proceeded half through the Latin Reader, does from reading Virgil; while in both cases an intelligent audience, unacquainted with the facts, might justly infer that the reader understood what he was reading as well as his hearers did. Moreover, in the Chinese language, different subjects demand different characters; and although a man may be well versed in the classics or in fiction, he may be easily posed by being asked to explain a simple treatise in medicine or in mathematics, in consequence of the many new or unfamiliar words on every page. This is a serious obstacle in the way of obtaining a general acquaintance with books. The mind becomes weary with the labor of study where its toil is neither rewarded by knowledge nor beguiled by wit; consequently, few Chinese are well read in their natural literature. The study of books being regarded solely as the means wherewith to attain a definite end, it follows naturally that when a cultivated man has reached his goal he should feel little disposed to turn to these implements of his profession for either instruction or pleasure.
Wealthy or official parents, who wish their sons to compete for literary honors, give them the advantages of a full course in reading and rhetoric under the best masters. Composition is the most difficult part of the training of a Chinese student, and requires unwearied application and a retentive memory. He who can most readily quote the classics, and approach the nearest to their terse, comprehensive, energetic diction and style, is,cæteris paribus, most likely to succeed; while the man who can most quickly throw off well rhythmed verses takes the palm from all competitors. In novels, the ability to compose elegant verses as fast as the pencil can fly is usually ascribed to the hero of the plot. How many of those who intend to compete for degrees attend at the district colleges or high schools is not known, but they are resorted to by students about the time of the examinations in order to make the acquaintance of those who are to compete with them. No public examinations take place in either day or private schools, nor do parents often visit them, but rewards for remarkable proficiency are occasionallyconferred. There is little gradation of studies, nor are any diplomas conferred on students to show that they have gone through a certain course. Punishments are severe, and the rattan or bamboo hangs conspicuously near the master, and its liberal use is considered necessary: “To educate without rigor, shows the teacher’s indolence,” is the doctrine, and by scolding, starving, castigation, and detention, the master tries to instil habits of obedience and compel his scholars to learn their task.
Notwithstanding the high opinion in which education is held, the general diffusion of knowledge, and the respect paid to learning in comparison with mere title and wealth, the defects of the tuition here briefly described, in extent, means, purposes, and results, are very great. Such, too, must necessarily be the case until new principles and new information are infused into it. Considered in its best point of view, this system has effected all that it can in enlarging the understanding, purifying the heart, and strengthening the minds of the people; but in none of these, nor in any of the essential points at which a sound education aims (as we understand the matter), has it accomplished half that is needed. The stream never rises even as high as its source, and the teachings of Confucius and Mencius have done all that is possible to make their countrymen thinking, useful, and intelligent men.
MODE OF EXAMINATION AND CONFERRING DEGREES.
Turn we now from this brief sketch of primary education among the Chinese, to a description of the mode of examining students and conferring the degrees which have been made the passport to office, and learn what are the real merits of the system. Persons from almost every class of society may become candidates for degrees under the certificates of securities, but none are eligible for the second diploma who have not already received the first. It therefore happens that the republican license apparently allowed to well-nigh every subject, in reality reserves the prizes for the few most talented or wealthy persons in the community. A majority of the clever, learned, ambitious, and intelligent spirits in the land look forward to these examinations as the only field worthy of their efforts, and where they are most likely to find their equals and friends. How much betterfor the good of society, too, is this arena than the camp or the feudal court, the tournament or the monastery!
EXAMINATION FOR THE DEGREE OF SIU-TSAI.
There are four regular literary degrees, with some intermediate steps of a titular sort. The first is calledsiu-tsai, meaning ‘flowering talent,’ because of the promise held out of the future success of the scholar; it has often been rendered ‘bachelor of arts’ as its nearest equivalent. The examinations to obtain it are held under the supervision of thechíhienin a public building belonging to the district situated near his yamun; and the chief literary officer, calledhioh-ching, ‘corrector of learning,’ orkiao-yu, ‘teacher of the commands,’ has the immediate control. When assembled at the hall of examination, the district magistrate, the deputy chancellor, and prefect, having prepared the lists of the undergraduates and selected the themes, allow only one day for writing the essays. The number of candidates depends upon the population and literary spirit of the district; in the districts of Nanhai and Pwanyu, upward of two thousand persons competed for the prize in 1832, while in Hiangshan not half so many came together. The rule for apportioning them was at first according to the annual revenue. When the essays are handed in, they are looked over by the board of examiners, and the names of the successful students entered on a roll, and pasted upon the walls of the magistrate’s hall; this honor is calledhien ming,i.e., ‘having a name in the village.’ Out of the four thousand candidates referred to above, only thirteen in one district, and fourteen in the other, obtained a name in the village; the entire population of these two districts is not much under a million and a half. Many of the competitors at this primary tripos are unable to finish their essays in the day, others make errors in writing, and others show gross ignorance, all of which so greatly diminish their numbers, that only those who stand near the head of the list ofhien mingdo really or usually enter on the next trial before the prefect. But all have had an equal chance, and few complain that their performances were disregarded, for they can try as often as they please.
Those who pass the first examination are entered as candidates for the second, which takes place in the chief town of thedepartment before the literary chancellor and the prefect, assisted by a literary magistrate calledkiao-shao, ‘giver of instructions;’ it is more rigorous than that held before thechíhien, though similar to it in nature. The prefect arranges the candidates from each district by themselves according to their standing on their several lists, and it is this vantage ground which makes the first trial in one’s native place so important to the ambitious scholar. The themes on which they have tested their scholarship are published for the information of friends and the other examiners. If the proportion given above of successful candidates at the district examinations hold for each district, there would not be more than two hundred students assembled at the prefect’s hall, but the number is somewhat increased by persons who have purchased the privilege; still the second trial is made among a small number in proportion to the first, and yet more trifling when compared with the amount of population. The names of the successful students at the second trial are exposed on the walls of the office, which is calledfu ming,i.e., ‘having a name in the department,’ and these only are eligible as candidates for the third trial. In addition to their knowledge of the classics, the candidates at this trial are often required to write off the text of theShing Yu, or ‘Sacred Edict,’ from memory, as this work consists of maxims for the guidance of officers. The literary chancellor exercises a superintendence over the previous examinations, and makes the circuit of the province to attend them in each department, twice in three years. There are various ranks among these educational officials, corresponding to the civilians in the province; transfers are occasionally made from one service to the other, and the oversight of the latter is always given at the examinations wherever they are held. Most of the literary officers, however, remain in their own line, as it is highly honorable and more permanent. At the third trial in the provincial capital, he confers the first degree ofsiu-tsaiupon those who are chosen out of the whole list as the best scholars.
There are several classes of bachelors, depending somewhat on the manner in which they obtained their degree; those who get it in the manner here described take the precedence. Thepossession of this degree protects the person from corporeal punishment, raises him above the common people, renders him a conspicuous man in his native place, and eligible to enter the triennial examination for the second degree. Those who have more money than learning, purchase this degree for sums varying from $200 up to $1,000, and even higher; in later years, according to the necessities of the government, diplomas have been sold as low as $25 to $50, but such men seldom rise. They are calledkien-săng, and, as might be supposed, are looked upon somewhat contemptuously by those who have passed through the regular examinations, and “won the battle with their own lance.” A degree calledkung-săngis purchased by or bestowed upon thesiu-tsai, but is so generally recognized that it has almost become a fifth degree, which does not entitle them to the full honors of akü-jin. What proportion of scholars are rewarded by degrees is not known, but it is a small number compared with the candidates. A graduate of considerable intelligence at Ningpo estimated the number ofsiu-tsaiin that city at four hundred, and in the department at nearly a thousand. In Canton City, the number ofshin-kin, or gentry, who are allowed to wear the sash of honor, and have obtained literary degrees, is not over three hundred; but in the whole province there are about twelve thousand bachelors in a population of nineteen millions. Those who have not becomesiu-tsaiare still regarded as under the oversight of thekiao-yuand others of his class, who still receive their essays; but the body of provincialsiu-tsaiare obliged to report themselves and attend the prefectural tripos before the chancellor, under penalty of losing all the privileges and rank obtained. This law brings them before those who may take cognizance of misdeeds, for these men are often very oppressive and troublesome to their countrymen. The graduates in each district are placed under the control of a chief, whose power is almost equal to the deputy chancellor’s; from them are taken the two securities required by each applicant to enter the tripos.
The candidates forsiu-tsaiare narrowly examined when they enter the hall, their pockets, shoes, wadded robes, and ink-stones, all being searched, lest precomposed essays or other aids to composition be smuggled in. When they are all seated in the hall in their proper places, the wickets, doors, windows, and other entrances are all guarded, and pasted over with strips of paper. The room is filled with anxious competitors arranged in long seats, pencil in hand, and ready to begin. The theme is given out, and every one immediately writes off his essay, carefully noting how many characters he erases in composing it, and hands it up to the board of examiners; the whole day is allotted to the task, and a signal-gun announces the hour when the doors are thrown open, and the students can disperse. A man is liable to lose his acquired honor ofsiu-tsaiif at a subsequent inspection he is found to have discarded his studies, and he is therefore impelled to pursue them in order to maintain his influence, even if he does not reach the next degree.[281]
EXAMINATION FOR THE SECOND DEGREE.
Since the first degree is sometimes procured by influence and money, it is the examination for the second, calledkü-jin, or ‘promoted men,’ held triennially in the provincial capitals before two imperial commissioners, that separates the candidates into students and officers, though all the students who receive a diploma by no means become officers. This examination is held at the same time in all the eighteen provincial capitals, viz., on the 9th, 12th, and 15th days of the eighth moon, or about the middle of September; while it is going on, the city appears exceedingly animated, in consequence of the great number of relatives and friends assembled with the students. The persons who preside at the examination, besides the imperial commissioners, are ten provincial officers, with the futai at their head, who jointly form a board of examiners, and decide upon the merits of the essays. The number of candidates who entered the lists at Canton in the years 1828 and 1831 was 4,800; in 1832 there were 6,000, which is nearer the usual number. In the largest provinces it reaches as many as 7,000, 8,000, and upward.
INTERIOR OF KUNG YUEN, OR ‘EXAMINATION HALL,’ PEKING.
INTERIOR OF KUNG YUEN, OR ‘EXAMINATION HALL,’ PEKING.
INTERIOR OF KUNG YUEN, OR ‘EXAMINATION HALL,’ PEKING.
Previous to entering theKung Yuen, each candidate has given in all the necessary proofs and particulars, which entitlehim to a cell, and receives the ticket which designates the one he is to occupy. He enters the night before, and is searched to see that no manuscript essay, “skinning paper,” or miniature edition of the classics, is secreted on his person. If anything of the sort is discovered, he is punished with the cangue, degraded from his first degree, and forbidden again to compete at the examination; his father and tutor are likewise punished. Some of the pieces written for this purpose are marvels of penmanship, and the most finished compositions; one set contained an essay on every sentence in the Four Books, each of the sheets covered with hundreds of characters, and the paper so thin that they could be easily read through it. The practice is, however, quite common, notwithstanding the penalties, and one censor requested a law to be passed forbidding small editions to be printed, and booksellers’ shops to be searched for them.
METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXAMINATION.
The general arrangement of the examination halls in all the provincial capitals is alike. A description of that at Canton, given on page166, is typical of them all.
The Hall at Peking, situated on the eastern side, not far from the observatory, contains ten thousand cells, and these do not always suffice for the host which assembles. The Hall at Fuhchau is equally large; each cell is a little higher than a man’s head, and is open on but one side—letting in more rain and wind during inclement days than is comfortable. Confinement in these cramped cells is so irksome as to frequently cause the death of aged students, who are unable to sustain the fatigue, but who still enter the arena in hopes of at last succeeding. Cases have occurred where father, son, and grandson, appeared at the same time to compete for the same prize. Dr. Martin[282]found that out of a list of ninety-nine successful competitors for the second degree, sixteen were over forty years of age, one sixty-two, and one eighty-three. The average age of the whole number was over thirty—while in comparison with like statistics for the third degree, a proportionate increase might be looked for. The unpleasantness of the strait cell is much increased by the smoke arising from the cooking, and by the heat of the weather. All servants are provided by government, but each candidate takes in the rice and fuel which he needs, together with cakes, tea, candles, bedding, etc., as he can afford; no one can go in with him. The enclosure presents a bustling scene during the examination, and its interest intensifies until the names of the successful scholars are published. Should a student die in his cell, the body is pulled through a hole made in the wall of the enclosure, and left there for his friends to carry away. Whenever a candidate breaks any of the prescribed regulations of the contest, his name and offence are reported, and his name is “pasted out” by placarding it on the outer door of the hall, after which he is not allowed to enter until another examination comes around. More than a hundred persons are thus “pasted out” each season, but no heavy disgrace seems to attach to them in consequence.
On the first day after the doors have been sealed up, four themes are selected by the examiners from the Four Books, one of which subjects must be discussed in a poetical essay. The minimum length of the compositions is a hundred characters, and they must be written plainly and elegantly, and sent in without any names attached. In 1828, the acumen of four thousand eight hundred candidates was exercised during the first day on these themes: “Tsăng-tsz’ said, ‘To possess ability, and yet ask of those who do not; to know much, and yet inquire of those who know little; to possess, and yet appear not to possess; to be full, and yet appear empty.’”—“He took hold of things by the two extremes, and in his treatment of the people maintained the golden medium.”—“A man from his youth studies eight principles, and when he arrives at manhood, he wishes to reduce them to practice.”—The fourth essay, to be written in pentameters, had for its subject, “The sound of the oar, and the green of the hills and water.” Among the themes given out in 1843, were these: “He who is sincere will be intelligent, and the intelligent man will be faithful.”—“In carrying out benevolence, there are no rules.” In 1835, one was, “He acts as he ought, both to the common people and official men, receives his revenue from Heaven, and by it is protected and highly esteemed.” Among other more practical texts are the following: “Fire-arms began with the use of rockets in the Chaudynasty; in what book do we first meet with the word for cannon? Is the defence of Kaifung fu its first recorded use? Kublai khan, it is said, obtained cannon of a new kind; from whom did he obtain them? When the Ming Emperors, in the reign of Yungloh, invaded Cochinchina, they obtained a kind of cannon called the weapons of the gods; can you give an account of their origin?”
The three or five themes (for the number seems to be optional) selected from the Five Classics are similar to these, but as those works are regarded as more recondite than the Four Books, so must the essayists try to take a higher style. An officer goes around to gather in the papers, which are first handed to a body of scholars in waiting, who look them over to see if the prescribed rules have all been observed, and reject those which infringe them. The rest are then copied in red ink, to prevent recognition of the handwriting, and the original manuscripts given to the governor. The copies are submitted to another class of old scholars for their criticism, each of whom marks the essays he deems best with a red circle, and these only are placed in the hands of the chancellors sent from Peking for their decision. The examining board are aided by twelve scholars of repute, to each of whom forty or fifty essays are given to read. The students are dismissed during the night of the ninth day, and reassemble before sunrise of the eleventh; all whose essays were rejected on the first review are refused entrance to their cells. At the second tripos, five themes are given out from the Five Classics, and everything proceeds as before in respect to the disposal of the manuscripts. The students are liberated early on the thirteenth as before by companies, under a salute and music as they leave the great door; their number has been much reduced by this time. On the next morning the roll is called, and those who answer to their names for the last struggle are furnished with five themes for essays, one for poetry, taken from the classics or histories, upon doubtful matters of government, or such problems as might arise in law and finance. These questions take even a more extended range, including topics relating to the laws, history, geography, and customs of the Empire in former times, doubtful points touching the classicalworks, and the interpretation of obscure passages, and biographical notices of statesmen. It is forbidden, however, to discuss any points relating to the policy of the present family, or the character and learning of living statesmen; but the conduct of their rulers is now and then alluded to by the candidates. Manuals of questions on such subjects as candidates are examined in, are commonly exposed for sale in shops about the time of these examinations.[283]By noon of the sixteenth day of the eighth moon, all the candidates throughout the Empire have left their halls, and the examination is over.
EXAMPLE OF AN ESSAY.
The manner in which subjects are handled may be readily illustrated by introducing an essay upon this theme: “When persons in high stations are sincere in the performance of relative and domestic duties, the people generally will be stimulated to the practice of virtue.” It is a fair specimen of the jejune style of Chinese essayists, and the mode of reasoning in a circle which pervades their writings.
“When the upper classes are really virtuous, the common people will inevitably become so. For, though the sincere performance of relative duties by superiors does not originate in a wish to stimulate the people, yet the people do become virtuous, which is a proof of the effect of sincerity. As benevolence is the radical principle of all good government in the world, so also benevolence is the radical principle of relative duties amongst the people. Traced back to its source, benevolent feeling refers to a first progenitor; traced forward, it branches out to a hundred generations yet to come. The source of personal existence is one’s parents, the relations which originate from Heaven are most intimate; and that in which natural feeling blends is felt most deeply. That which is given by Heaven and by natural feeling to all, is done without any distinction between noble or ignoble. One feeling pervades all. My thoughts now refer to him who is placed in a station of eminence, and who may be called a good man. The good man who is placed in an eminent station, ought to lead forward the practice of virtue; but the way to do so is to begin with his own relations, and perform his duties to them.“In the middle ages of antiquity, the minds of the people were not yet dissipated—how came it that they were not humble and observant of relative duties, when they were taught the principles of the five social relations? This having been the case, makes it evident that the enlightening of the people must depend entirely on the cordial performance of immediate relative duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who appears at the head of all others in illustrating by his practice the relative duties.To ages nearer to our own, the manners of the people were not far removed from the dutiful; how came it that any were disobedient to parents, and without brotherly affection, and that it was yet necessary to restrain men by inflicting the eight forms of punishment? This having been the case, shows that in the various modes of obtaining promotion in the state, there is nothing regarded of more importance than filial and fraternal duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who stands forth as an example of the performance of relative duties.“The difference between a person filling a high station and one of the common people, consists in the department assigned them, not in their relation to Heaven; it consists in a difference of rank, not in a difference of natural feeling; but the common people constantly observe the sincere performance of relative duties in people of high stations. In being at the head of a family and preserving order amongst the persons of which it is composed, there should be sincere attention to politeness and decorum. A good man placed in a high station says, ‘Who of all these are not related to me, and shall I receive them with mere external forms?’ The elegant entertainment, the neatly arranged tables, and the exhilarating song, some men esteem mere forms, but the good man esteems that which dictates them as a divinely instilled feeling, and attends to it with a truly benevolent heart. And who of the common people does not feel a share of the delight arising from fathers, and brothers, and kindred? Is this joy resigned entirely to princes and kings?“In favors conferred to display the benignity of a sovereign, there should be sincerity in the kindness done. The good man says, ‘Are not all these persons whom I love, and shall I merely enrich them by largesses?’ He gives a branch as the sceptre of authority to a delicate younger brother, and to another he gives a kingdom with his best instructions. Some men deem this as merely extraordinary good fortune, but the good man esteems it the exercise of a virtue of the first order, and the effort of inexpressible benevolence. But have the common people no regard for the spring whence the water flows, nor for the root which gives life to the tree and its branches? Have they no regard for their kindred? It is necessary both to reprehend and to urge them to exercise these feelings. The good man in a high station is sincere in the performance of relative duties, because to do so is virtuous, and not on account of the common people. But the people, without knowing whence the impulse comes, with joy and delight are influenced to act with zeal in this career of virtue; the moral distillation proceeds with rapidity, and a vast change is effected.“The rank of men is exceedingly different; some fill the imperial throne, but every one equally wishes to do his utmost to accomplish his duty; and success depends on every individual himself. The upper classes begin and pour the wine into the rich goblet; the poor man sows his grain to maintain his parents; the men in high stations grasp the silver bowl, the poor present a pigeon; they arouse each other to unwearied cheerful efforts, and the principles implanted by Heaven are moved to action. Some things are difficult to be done, except by those who possess the glory of national rule; but the kind feeling is what I myself possess, and may increase to an unlimited degree.The prince may write verses appropriate to his vine bower; the poor man can think of his gourd shelter; the prince may sing his classic odes on fraternal regards; the poor man can muse on his more simple allusions to the same subject, and asleep or awake indulge his recollections; for the feeling is instilled into his nature. When the people are aroused to relative virtues, they will be sincere; for where are there any of the common people that do not desire to perform relative duties? But without the upper classes performing relative duties, this virtuous desire would have no point from which to originate, and therefore it is said, ‘Good men in high stations, as a general at the head of his armies, will lead forward the world to the practice of social virtues.’”
“When the upper classes are really virtuous, the common people will inevitably become so. For, though the sincere performance of relative duties by superiors does not originate in a wish to stimulate the people, yet the people do become virtuous, which is a proof of the effect of sincerity. As benevolence is the radical principle of all good government in the world, so also benevolence is the radical principle of relative duties amongst the people. Traced back to its source, benevolent feeling refers to a first progenitor; traced forward, it branches out to a hundred generations yet to come. The source of personal existence is one’s parents, the relations which originate from Heaven are most intimate; and that in which natural feeling blends is felt most deeply. That which is given by Heaven and by natural feeling to all, is done without any distinction between noble or ignoble. One feeling pervades all. My thoughts now refer to him who is placed in a station of eminence, and who may be called a good man. The good man who is placed in an eminent station, ought to lead forward the practice of virtue; but the way to do so is to begin with his own relations, and perform his duties to them.
“In the middle ages of antiquity, the minds of the people were not yet dissipated—how came it that they were not humble and observant of relative duties, when they were taught the principles of the five social relations? This having been the case, makes it evident that the enlightening of the people must depend entirely on the cordial performance of immediate relative duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who appears at the head of all others in illustrating by his practice the relative duties.To ages nearer to our own, the manners of the people were not far removed from the dutiful; how came it that any were disobedient to parents, and without brotherly affection, and that it was yet necessary to restrain men by inflicting the eight forms of punishment? This having been the case, shows that in the various modes of obtaining promotion in the state, there is nothing regarded of more importance than filial and fraternal duties. The person in an eminent station who may be called a good man, is he who stands forth as an example of the performance of relative duties.
“The difference between a person filling a high station and one of the common people, consists in the department assigned them, not in their relation to Heaven; it consists in a difference of rank, not in a difference of natural feeling; but the common people constantly observe the sincere performance of relative duties in people of high stations. In being at the head of a family and preserving order amongst the persons of which it is composed, there should be sincere attention to politeness and decorum. A good man placed in a high station says, ‘Who of all these are not related to me, and shall I receive them with mere external forms?’ The elegant entertainment, the neatly arranged tables, and the exhilarating song, some men esteem mere forms, but the good man esteems that which dictates them as a divinely instilled feeling, and attends to it with a truly benevolent heart. And who of the common people does not feel a share of the delight arising from fathers, and brothers, and kindred? Is this joy resigned entirely to princes and kings?
“In favors conferred to display the benignity of a sovereign, there should be sincerity in the kindness done. The good man says, ‘Are not all these persons whom I love, and shall I merely enrich them by largesses?’ He gives a branch as the sceptre of authority to a delicate younger brother, and to another he gives a kingdom with his best instructions. Some men deem this as merely extraordinary good fortune, but the good man esteems it the exercise of a virtue of the first order, and the effort of inexpressible benevolence. But have the common people no regard for the spring whence the water flows, nor for the root which gives life to the tree and its branches? Have they no regard for their kindred? It is necessary both to reprehend and to urge them to exercise these feelings. The good man in a high station is sincere in the performance of relative duties, because to do so is virtuous, and not on account of the common people. But the people, without knowing whence the impulse comes, with joy and delight are influenced to act with zeal in this career of virtue; the moral distillation proceeds with rapidity, and a vast change is effected.
“The rank of men is exceedingly different; some fill the imperial throne, but every one equally wishes to do his utmost to accomplish his duty; and success depends on every individual himself. The upper classes begin and pour the wine into the rich goblet; the poor man sows his grain to maintain his parents; the men in high stations grasp the silver bowl, the poor present a pigeon; they arouse each other to unwearied cheerful efforts, and the principles implanted by Heaven are moved to action. Some things are difficult to be done, except by those who possess the glory of national rule; but the kind feeling is what I myself possess, and may increase to an unlimited degree.The prince may write verses appropriate to his vine bower; the poor man can think of his gourd shelter; the prince may sing his classic odes on fraternal regards; the poor man can muse on his more simple allusions to the same subject, and asleep or awake indulge his recollections; for the feeling is instilled into his nature. When the people are aroused to relative virtues, they will be sincere; for where are there any of the common people that do not desire to perform relative duties? But without the upper classes performing relative duties, this virtuous desire would have no point from which to originate, and therefore it is said, ‘Good men in high stations, as a general at the head of his armies, will lead forward the world to the practice of social virtues.’”
The discipline of mind and memory which these examinations draw out furnishes a grade of intellect which only needs the friction and experience of public life to make statesmen out of scholars, and goes far to account for the influence of Chinese in Asia. The books studied in preparation for such trials must be remembered with extraordinary accuracy, though we may wish they contained more truth and better science. The following are among the questions proposed in 1853, and must be taken as an average: “In the Han dynasty, there were three commentators on theYih King, whose explanations, and divisions into chapters and sentences were all different: can you give an account of them?”—“Sz’ma Tsien took the classics and ancient records in arranging his history according to their facts; some have accused him of unduly exalting the Taoists and thinking too highly of wealth and power. Pan Ku is clear and comprehensive, but on Astronomy and the Five Elements, he has written more than enough. Give examples and proof of these two statements.”—“Chin Shao had admirable abilities for historical writings. In hisSan Kwoh Chíhe has depreciated Chu-koh Liang, and made very light of Í and Í, two other celebrated characters. What does he say of them?” This kind of question involves a wide range of reading within the native literature, though it of course contracts the mind to look upon that literature as containing all that is worth anything in the world.