Reading section 28

It can hardly be denied that the populace in China are grossly superstitious. Superstition is a common failing and were statistics available to show the number and status of Europeans who believe in fortune-telling and luck, the result might be startling. But in most civilized countries such things are furtive and apologetic. In China the strangest forms of magic and divination enjoy public esteem. The ideas which underlie popular practice and ritual are worthy of African savages: there has been a monstrous advance in systematization, yet the ethics and intellect of China, brilliant as are their achievements, have not leavened the lump. The average Chinese, though an excellent citizen, full of common sense and shrewd in business, is in religious matters a victim of fatuous superstition and completely divorced from the moral and intellectual standards which he otherwise employs.

Conspicuous among these superstitions is Fêng Shui or Geomancy[570], a pseudo-science which is treated as seriously as law or surveying. It is based on the idea that localities have a sort of spiritual climate which brings prosperity or the reverse and depends on the influences of stars and nature spirits, such as the azure dragon and white tiger. But since these agencies find expression in the contours of a locality, they can be affected if its features are modified by artificial means, for instance, the construction of walls and towers. Buddhism did not disdain to patronize these notions. The principal hall of a monastery is usually erected on a specially auspicious site and the appeals issued for the repair of sacred buildings often point out the danger impending if edifices essential to the good Fêng Shui of a district are allowed to decay. The scepticism and laughter of the educated does not clear the air, for superstition can flourish when neither respected nor believed. The worst feature of religion in China is that the decently educated public ridicules its external observances, but continues to practise them, because they are connected with occasions of good fellowship or because their omission might be a sign of disrespect to departed relatives or simply because in dealing with uncanny things it is better to be on the safe side. This is the sum of China's composite religion as visible in public and private rites. Its ethical value is far higher than might be supposed, for its most absurd superstitions also recommend love and respect in family life and a high standard of civic duty. But China has never admitted that public or private morality requires the support of a religious creed.

As might be expected, life and animation are more apparent in sects than in conventional religion. Since the recent revolution it is no longer necessary to confute the idea that the Chinese are a stationary and unemotional race, but its inaccuracy was demonstrated by many previous movements especially the T'ai-p'ing rebellion, which had at first a religious tinge. Yet in China such movements, though they may kindle enthusiasm and provoke persecution, rarely have the religious value attaching to a sect in Christian, Hindu and Mohammedan countries. Viewed as an ecclesiastical or spiritual movement, the T́ai-p'ing is insignificant: it was a secret society permitted by circumstances to become a formidable rising and in its important phases the political element was paramount. The same is true of many sects which have not achieved such notoriety. They are secret societies which adopt a creed, but it is not in the creed that their real vitality lies.

If it is difficult to say how far the Buddhism of China is a religion, it is equally difficult to define its relation to the State. Students well acquainted with the literature as well as with the actual condition of China have expressed diametrically opposite views as to the religious attitude of the Imperial Government[571], one stating roundly that it was "the most intolerant, the most persecuting of all earthly Governments," and another that it "at no period refused hospitality and consideration to any religion recommended as such[572]."

In considering such questions I would again emphasize the fact that Chinese terms have often not the same extension as their apparent synonyms in European languages, which, of course, means that the provinces of human life and thought have also different boundaries. For most countries the word clergy has a definite meaning and, in spite of great diversities, may be applied to Christian clerics, Mollahs and Brahmans without serious error. It means a class of men who are the superintendents of religion, but also more. On the one side, though they may have serious political differences with the Government, they are usually in touch with it: on the other, though they may dislike reformers and movements from below, they patronize and minister to popular sentiment. They are closely connected with education and learning and sometimes with the law. But in China there is no class which unites all these features. Learning, law and education are represented by the Confucian scholars or literati. Though no one would think of calling them priests, yet they may offer official sacrifices, like Roman magistrates. Though they are contemptuous of popular superstition, yet they embody the popular ideal. It is the pride of a village to produce a scholar. But the scholarship of the literati is purely Confucian: Buddhist and Taoist learning have no part in it.

The priest, whether Buddhist or Taoist, is not in the mind of the people the repository of learning and law. He is not in religious matters the counterpart of the secular arm, but rather a private practitioner, duly licensed but of no particular standing. But he is skilful in his own profession: he has access to the powers who help, pity and console, and even the sceptic seeks his assistance when confronted with the dangers of this world and the next.

The student of Chinese history may object that at many periods, notably under the Yüan dynasty, the Buddhist clergy were officially recognized as an educational body and even received the title of Kuo-shih or teacher of the people. This is true. Such recognition by no means annihilated the literati, but it illustrates the decisive influence exercised by the Emperor and the court. We have, on the one side, a learned official class, custodians of the best national ideals but inclined to reject emotion and speculation as well as superstition: on the other, two priesthoods, prone to superstition but legitimately strong in so far as they satisfied the emotional and speculative instincts. The literati held persistently, though respectfully, to the view that the Emperor should be a Confucianist pure and simple, but Buddhism and Taoism had such strong popular support that it was always safe and often politic for an Emperor to patronize them. Hence an Emperor of personal convictions was able to turn the balance, and it must be added that Buddhism often flourished in the courts of weak and dissolute Emperors who were in the hands of women and eunuchs. Some of these latter were among its most distinguished devotees.

All Chinese religions agreed in accepting the Emperor as head of the Church, not merely titular but active. He exercised a strange prerogative of creating, promoting and degrading deities. Even within the Buddhist sphere he regulated the incarnations of Bodhisattvas in the persons of Lamas and from time to time re-edited the canon[573] or added new works to it. This extreme Erastianism had its roots in Indian as well as Chinese ideas. The Confucianist, while reminding the Emperor that he should imitate the sages and rulers of antiquity, gladly admitted his right to control the worship of all spirits[574] and the popular conscience, while probably unable to define what was meant by the title _Son of Heaven_[575], felt that it gave him a viceregal right to keep the gods in order, so long as he did not provoke famine or other national calamities by mismanagement. The Buddhists, though tenacious of freedom in the spiritual life, had no objection to the patronage of princes. Asoka permitted himself to regulate the affairs of the Church and the success of Buddhists as missionaries was due in no small measure to their tact in allowing other sovereigns to follow his example.

That Buddhism should have obtained in China a favourable reception and a permanent status is indeed remarkable, for in two ways it was repugnant to the sentiments of the governing classes to say nothing of the differences in temper and outlook which divide Hindus and Chinese. Firstly, its ideal was asceticism and celibacy; it gave family life the lower place and ignored the popular Chinese view that to have a son is not only a duty, but also essential for those sacrifices without which the departed spirit cannot have peace. Secondly, it was not merely a doctrine but an ecclesiastical organization, a congregation of persons who were neither citizens nor subjects, not exactly an _imperium in imperio_ nor a secret society, but dangerously capable of becoming either. Such bodies have always incurred the suspicion and persecution of the Chinese Government. Even in the fifth century Buddhist monasteries were accused of organizing armed conspiracies and many later sects suffered from the panic which they inspired in official bosoms. But both difficulties were overcome by the suppleness of the clergy. If they outraged family sentiment they managed to make themselves indispensable at funeral ceremonies[576]. If they had a dangerous resemblance to an _imperium in imperio_, they minimized it by their obvious desire to exercise influence through the Emperor. Though it is true that the majority of anti-dynastic political sects had a Buddhist colour, the most prominent and influential Buddhists never failed in loyalty. To this adroitness must be added a solid psychological advantage. The success of Buddhism in China was due to the fact that it presented religious emotion and speculation in the best form known there, and when it began to spread the intellectual soil was not unpropitious. The higher Taoist philosophy had made familiar the ideas of quietism and the contemplative life: the age was unsettled, harassed alike by foreign invasion and civil strife. In such times when even active natures tire of unsuccessful struggles, the asylum of a monastery has attractions for many.

We have now some idea of the double position of Buddhism in China and can understand how it sometimes appears as almost the established church and sometimes as a persecuted sect. The reader will do well to remember that in Europe the relations of politics to religion have not always been simple: many Catholic sovereigns have quarrelled with Popes and monks. The French Government supports the claims of Catholic missions in China but does not favour the Church in France. The fact that Huxley was made a Privy Councillor does not imply that Queen Victoria approved of his religious views. In China the repeated restrictive edicts concerning monasteries should not be regarded as acts of persecution. Every politician can see the loss to the state if able-bodied men become monks by the thousand. In periods of literary and missionary zeal, large congregations of such monks may have a sufficient sphere of activity but in sleepy, decadent periods they are apt to become a moral or political danger. A devout Buddhist or Catholic may reasonably hold that though the monastic life is the best for the elect, yet for the unworthy it is more dangerous than the temptations of the world. Thus the founder of the Ming dynasty had himself been a bonze, yet he limited the number and age of those who might become monks[577]. On the other hand, he attended Buddhist services and published an edition of the Tripitaka. In this and in the conduct of most Emperors there is little that is inconsistent or mysterious: they regarded religion not in our fashion as a system deserving either allegiance or rejection, but as a modern Colonial Governor might regard education. Some Governors are enthusiastic for education: others mistrust it as a stimulus of disquieting ideas: most accept it as worthy of occasional patronage, like hospitals and races. In the same way some Emperors, like Wu-Ti[578], were enthusiasts for Buddhism and made it practically the state religion: a few others were definitely hostile either from conviction or political circumstances, but probably most sovereigns regarded it as the average British official regards education, as something that one can't help having, that one must belaud on certain public occasions, that may now and then be useful, but still emphatically something to be kept within limits.

Outbursts against Buddhism are easy to understand. I have pointed out its un-Chinese features and the persistent opposition of the literati. These were sufficient reasons for repressive measures whenever the Emperor was unbuddhist in his sympathies, especially if the monasteries had enjoyed a period of prosperity and become crowded and wealthy. What is harder to understand is the occasional favour shown by apparently anti-Buddhist Emperors.

The Sacred Edict of the great K'ang Hsi forbids heterodoxy (i tuan) in which the official explanation clearly includes Buddhism[579]. It was published in his extreme youth, but had his mature approval, and until recently was read in every prefecture twice a month. But the same Emperor gave many gifts to monasteries, and in 1705 he issued a decree to the monks of P'uto in which he said, "we since our boyhood have been earnest students of Confucian lore and have had no time to become minutely acquainted with the sacred books of Buddhism, but we are satisfied that Virtue is the one word which indicates what is essential in both systems. Let us pray to the compassionate Kuan-yin that she may of her grace send down upon our people the spiritual rain and sweet dew of the good Law: that she may grant them bounteous harvests, seasonable winds and the blessings of peace, harmony and long life and finally that she may lead them to the salvation which she offers to all beings in the Universe[580]." The two edicts are not consistent but such inconsistency is no reproach to a statesman nor wholly illogical. The Emperor reprimands extravagance in doctrine and ceremonial and commends Confucianism to his subjects as all that is necessary for good life and good government, but when he finds that Buddhism conduces to the same end he accords his patronage and politely admits the existence and power of Kuan-yin.

But I must pass on to another question, the relation of Chinese to Indian Buddhism. Chinese Buddhism is often spoken of as a strange and corrupt degeneration, a commixture of Indian and foreign ideas. Now if such phrases mean that the pulse of life is feeble and the old lights dim, we must regretfully admit their truth, but still little is to be found in Chinese Buddhism except the successive phases of later Indian Buddhism, introduced into China from the first century A.D. onwards. In Japan there arose new sects, but in China, when importation ceased, no period of invention supervened. The T'ien-t'ai school has some originality, and native and foreign ideas were combined by the followers of Bodhidharma. But the remaining schools were all founded by members of Indian sects or by Chinese who aimed at scrupulous imitation of Indian models. Until the eighth century, when the formative period came to an end, we have an alternation of Indian or Central Asian teachers arriving in China to meet with respect and acceptance, and of Chinese enquirers who visited India in order to discover the true doctrine and practice and were honoured on their return in proportion as they were believed to have found it. There is this distinction between China and such countries as Java, Camboja and Champa, that whereas in them we find a mixture of Hinduism and Buddhism, in China the traces of Hinduism are slight. The imported ideas, however corrupt, were those of Indian Buddhist scholars, not the mixed ideas of the Indian layman[581].

Of course Buddhist theory and practice felt the influence of their new surroundings. The ornaments and embroidery of the faith are Chinese and sometimes hide the original material. Thus Kuan-yin, considered historically, has grown out of the Indian deity Avalokita, but the goddess worshipped by the populace is the heroine of the Chinese romance mentioned above. And, since many Chinese are only half Buddhists, tales about gods and saints are taken only half-seriously; the Buddha periodically invites the immortals to dine with him in Heaven and the Eighteen Lohan are described as converted brigands.

In every monastery the buildings, images and monks obviously bear the stamp of the country. Yet nearly all the doctrines and most of the usages have Indian parallels. The ritual has its counterpart in what I-Ching describes as seen by himself in his Indian travels. China has added the idea of _fêng-shui_, and has modified architectural forms. For instance the many-storeyed pagoda is an elongation of the stupa[582]. So, too, in ceremonial, the great prominence given to funeral rites and many superstitious details are Chinese, yet, as I have often mentioned in this work, rites on behalf of the dead were tolerated by early Buddhism. The curious mingling of religious services with theatrical pagents which Hsüan Chuang witnessed at Allahabad in the reign of Harsha, has its modest parallel to-day in many popular festivals.

The numerous images which crowd a Chinese temple, the four kings, Arhats and Bodhisattvas, though of unfamiliar appearance to the Indian student, are Indian in origin. A few Taoist deities may have side chapels, but they are not among the principal objects of worship. The greater part of the Chinese Tripitaka is a translation from the Sanskrit and the Chinese works (only 194 against 1467 translations) are chiefly exegetical. Thus, though Chinese bonzes countenance native superstitions and gladly undertake to deal with all the gods and devils of the land, yet in its doctrine, literature, and even in many externals their Buddhism remains an Indian importation. If we seek in it for anything truly Chinese, it is to be found not in the constituents, but in the atmosphere, which, like a breeze from a mountain monastery sometimes freshens the gilded shrines and libraries of verbose sutras. It is the native spirit of the Far East which finds expression in the hill-side hermit's sense of freedom and in dark sayings such as _Buddhism is the oak-tree in my garden_. Every free and pure heart can become a Buddha, but also is one with the life of birds and flowers. Both the love of nature[583] and the belief that men can become divine can easily be paralleled in Indian texts, but they were not, I think, imported into China, and joy in natural beauty and sympathy with wild life are much more prominent in Chinese than in Indian art.

Is then Buddhist doctrine, as opposed to the superstitions tolerated by Buddhism, something exotic and without influence on the national life? That also is not true. The reader will perceive from what has gone before that if he asks for statistics of Buddhism in China, the answer must be, in the Buddha's own phrase, that the question is not properly put. It is incorrect to describe China as a Buddhist country. We may say that it contains so many million Mohammedans or Christians, because these creeds are definite and exclusive. We cannot quote similar figures for Buddhism or Confucianism. Yet assuredly Buddhism has been a great power in China, as great perhaps as Christianity in Europe, if we remember how much is owed by European art, literature, law and science to non-Christian sources. The Chinese language is full of Buddhist phraseology[584], not only in literature but in popular songs and proverbs and an inspection of such entries in a Chinese dictionary as _Fo_ (Buddha), _Kuan Yin_, _Ho Shang_ (monk)[585] will show how large and not altogether flattering a part they play in popular speech.

Popular literature bears the same testimony. It is true that in what are esteemed the higher walks of letters Buddhism has little place. The quotations and allusions which play there so prominent a part are taken from the classics and Confucianism can claim as its own the historical, lexicographical and critical[586] works which are the solid and somewhat heavy glory of Chinese literature. But its lighter and less cultivated blossoms, such as novels, fairy stories and poetry, are predominantly Buddhist or Taoist in inspiration. This may be easily verified by a perusal of such works as the _Dream of the Red Chamber_, _Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio_, and Wieger's _Folk Lore Chinois Moderne_. The same is true in general of the great Chinese poets, many of whom did not conceal that (in a poetic and unascetic fashion) they were attached to Buddhism.

It may be asked if the inspiration is not Taoist in the main rather than Buddhist. Side by side with ethics and ceremony, a native stream of bold and weird imagination has never ceased to flow in China and there was no need to import tales of the Genii, immortal saints and vampire beauties. But when any coherency unites these ideas of the supernatural, that I think is the work of Buddhism and so far as Taoism itself has any coherency it is an imitation of Buddhism. Thus the idea of metempsychosis as one of many passing fancies may be indigenous to China but its prevalence in popular thought and language is undoubtedly due to Buddhism, for Taoism and Confucianism have nothing definite to say as to the state of the dead.

Much the same story of Buddhist influence is told by Chinese art, especially painting and sculpture. Here too Taoism is by no means excluded: it may be said to represent the artistic side of the Chinese mind, as Confucianism represents the political. But it is impossible to mistake the significance of chronology. As soon as Buddhism was well established in China, art entered on a new phase which culminated in the masterpieces of the T'ang and Sung[587]. Buddhism did not introduce painting into China or even perfect a rudimentary art. The celebrated roll of Ku K'ai-chih[588] shows no trace of Indian influence and presupposes a long artistic tradition. But Mahayanist Buddhism brought across Central Asia new shapes and motives. Some of its imports were of doubtful artistic value, such as figures with many limbs and eyes, but with them came ideas which enriched Chinese art with new dramatic power, passion and solemnity. Taoism dealt with other worlds but they were gardens of the Hesperides, inhabited by immortal wizards and fairy queens, not those disquieting regions where the soul receives the reward of its deeds. But now the art of Central Asia showed Chinese painters something new; saints preaching the law with a gesture of authority and deities of infinite compassion inviting suppliants to approach their thrones. And with them came the dramatic story of Gotama's life and all the legends of the Jatakas.

This clearly is not Taoism, but when the era of great art and literature begins, any distinction between the two creeds, except for theological purposes, becomes artificial, for Taoism borrowed many externals of Buddhism, and Buddhism, while not abandoning its austere and emaciated saints, also accepted the Taoist ideal of the careless wandering hermit, friend of mountain pines and deer. Wei Hsieh[589] who lived under the Chin dynasty, when the strength of Buddhism was beginning to be felt, is considered by Chinese critics as the earliest of the great painters and is said to have excelled in both Buddhist and Taoist subjects. The same may be said of the most eminent names, such as Ku K'ai-chih and Wu Tao-tzŭ[590], and we may also remember that Italian artists painted the birth of Venus and the origin of the milky way as well as Annunciations and Assumptions, without any hint that one incident was less true than another. Buddhism not only provided subjects like the death of the Buddha and Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, which hold in Chinese art the same place as the Crucifixion and the Madonna in Europe, and generation after generation have stimulated the noblest efforts of the best painters. It also offered a creed and ideals suited to the artistic temperament: peace and beauty reigned in its monasteries: its doctrine that life is one and continuous is reflected in that love of nature, that sympathetic understanding of plants and animals, that intimate union of sentiment with landscape which marks the best Chinese pictures.