China: Its State and Prospects/Chapter 8
Buddhist Priests on a stage.
Adoration of a Celebrated Devotee.
Service in a Chinese Temple.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELIGIONS OF CHINA.
The religious of China are three; viz., the systems of Confucius, Laou-tsze, and Buddha. Of these, the first is the most honoured, both by the government, and the learned: the works of Confucius constitute the class books of the schools, and the ground work of the public examinations; hence all who make any pretensions to literature, pride themselves in being considered the followers of that philosopher. The religion of Laou-tsze, is equally ancient with the favoured sect, and has a great hold upon the minds of the people. It has now and then been honoured with imperial patronage; and during those golden opportunities has exerted a wider influence over the population; but during the present dynasty, it has been left mainly to its own resources. The religion of Buddha was introduced from India into China, about the beginning of the Christian era: its priests and its temples are now spread over the whole land; and the majority of the common people are decidedly in favour of this latter system. But, as both the Taouists and Buddhists consent to accord the precedence to Confucius, and aim to combine the moral code of that philosopher with their own superstitious dogmas, they are commonly tolerated by the ruling sect. Now and then, the Confucians exclaim against the celibacy of the Buddhist priests, and indulge themselves in a few jeering observations on the demonolatry of Taou; but, generally speaking, the sceptics do not trouble themselves about the superstitious; and systems directly opposed, being both in the extreme of error, consent to let each other pretty much alone.
Some idea of the different religions may be afforded, by a slight sketch of their respective founders, and of the doctrines promulgated by them. To begin with Confucius; he was born, as has been before observed, in. the twenty-first year of Chow Ling-wang, B. C. 549, in the state of Loo, now the province of Shantung. His mother had prayed to the hill Ne for a son, and on bringing forth the sage, called his name Chung-ne. Fable says, that on this occasion, two dragons encircled the house, while sweet music was heard in the air. Confucius was left an orphan at an early age; and during his youth amused himself with marshalling the sacrificial vessels, as opposing armies, or as princes and ministers. As he grew up, he studied the art of ruling; and at the age of fifty was employed by the sovereign of his native state, as magistrate of a small district. Here he instructed the people to nourish their parents while living, and to inter them suitably when dead; he directed the elder and younger to eat separately, and men and women to take different sides of the road; no one picked up what was dropped in the street, and all needless ornament was abolished. Three or four years afterwards Confucius was raised to the rank of prime minister of Loo. Some improvements took place under his rule; when the prince of a neighbouring state, fearing lest Confucius should acquire too great an influence, sent a band of female musicians to the Loo country, on the acceptance of which by his sovereign, the sage resigned, and left his native province. From this period he wandered from one petty kingdom to another, frequently exposed to the secret machinations and open attacks of foes. During these peregrinations, he taught his disciples under the shade of some tree; and, hurrying about from place to place, was sometimes deprived of the necessaries of life. At length the prince of Tsoo, a southern state, hearing that Confucius was in the neighbourhood, wished to engage him; but one of his own officers remonstrated, saying, that Confucius would never sanction their ambitious views; and that, therefore, it was not for the interests of Tsoo, that he should be retained. The prince listened to him, and declined the services of the sage. From thence Confucius retired to his native state, where he did not again solicit office, but employed himself in discoursing on ceremonies, correcting the odes, and adjusting music. He finally turned his attention to the diagrams, and read the book of changes so frequently, that he thrice renewed the leathern thong with which the tablets or leaves were strung together. His disciples amounted to three thousand, amongst whom seventy-two were most distinguished. His last work was, the history of his own times, wherein he gave his opinion so decidedly on the conduct of different rulers, that he made sycophants and tyrants tremble. About this time his countrymen discovered an unicorn in the woods, which Confucius considered as indicative of his speedy removal; and wiping away the tears, he exclaimed, "my teaching is at an end!" In the forty-first year of King-wang, B. C. 477, Confucius died; when the prince of Loo composed an elegy on his memory, praising his genius, and lamenting his end. His disciples said, "whilst he was alive you did not employ him, and now that he is dead you lament him; how inconsistent!"
Thus it appears, that Confucius, during the greatest part of his life, was engaged in political affairs; and only in his declining years, devoted himself to the establishment of a school of philosophy; his system will therefore be more likely to refer to politics than religion, and the pursuit of temporal, rather than eternal good. In fact, it is a misnomer to call his system a religion, as it has little or nothing to do with theology, and is merely a scheme of ethics and politics, horn which things spiritual and divine are uniformly excluded. In treating of the government of a country, Confucius compared it to the management of a family, and grounds the whole on the due control of one's self, and the right management of the heart. He expressly lays down the golden rule, of doing to others as we should they should do unto us; and lays the foundation of moral conduct in the principle of excusing and feeling for others, as we would for ourselves. The five cardinal virtues, according to his school, are benevolence, righteousness, politeness, wisdom, and truth; and the duties of the human relations, those which should subsist between parents and children, elder and younger brethren, princes and ministers, husbands and wives, friends and companions. Of all these, filial piety stands first and foremost; reverence to parents is required, not only in youth, when children are dependent on, and necessarily subject to, their natural protectors; but even to the latest period, parents are to be treated with honour, and after death to be raised to the rank of gods. Without filial piety, they say, it is useless to expect fidelity to one's prince, affection to one's brethren, kindness to one's domestics, or sincerity among friends. Filial piety is the foundation of benevolence, rectitude, propriety, wisdom, and truth. This feeling, if conceived in the heart, and embodied in the life, will lead to the performance of every duty, the subjugation of every passion, and the entire renovation of the whole man. It is not to be confined to time and place, but is to be maintained whether the objects of our respect be present or absent, alive or dead; and thousands of years after their departure, ancestors are still to be exalted in the liveliest apprehensions, and undiminished affections of their descendants.
It is strange, however, that while Confucius recommends such an excessive veneration for parents, he should have overlooked the reverence due to the Father of our spirits; and while he traced up the series from parents to ancestors, requiring the highest degree of honour to be paid to our first progenitors, that he should not have considered Him from whom all beings spring, and who is entitled to our first and chief regard. But it is a lamentable proof of the depravity of the human heart, that so acute, intelligent, vigorous, and independent a mind, should not have traced the generations of men up to the great Former of all, and left his followers in the dark as to the being, attributes, and perfections, of the one living and true God.
There are, in the works of this philosopher, some allusions to heaven, as the presiding power of nature; and to fate, as the determiner of all things; but he does not appear to attribute originality to the one, or rationality to the other; and thus his system remains destitute of the main truth, which lies at the basis of all truth, viz., the being of a self-existent, eternal, all-wise God. On one occasion, Confucius exclaimed, "Unless it be heaven's design that my cause should fail, what can the people of Kwang do to me?" Again, when one asked him whether it were best to worship this or that deity, he said, "You are mistaken; he that offends against heaven has no one to whom he can pray." Another passage runs thus: "Imperial heaven has no kindred to serve, and will only assist virtue." The glorious heavens are said to be "bright, accompanying us wherever we go." "When heaven sent down the inferior people, it constituted princes and instructors, directing them to assist the Supreme ruler, in manifesting kindness throughout all regions." "Life and death are decreed by fate; riches and poverty rest with heaven."
There are, besides these occasional allusions to heaven, various references to a Supreme ruler; which would seem to imply that, in the infancy of their empire, ere they were spoiled by philosophy and vain conceit, they had derived by tradition from the patriarchal age, some notion of an universal sovereign, who exercises unlimited control, and to whom all honour is due. The book of odes, part of which was written B. C. 1120, speaks of the imperial supreme, as "majestic in his descending, surveying the inhabitants of the world, and promoting their tranquillity;" who is to be worshipped and served with abstinence and lustrations; while he takes cognizance of the affairs of men, and rewards or punishes them according to their deeds.
Chinese philosophers have also spoken much of a "principle of order," by which the universe is regulated, and which is accounted by them the soul of the world. The heavens and earth, together with all animate and inanimate things are, according to them, but one principle, which is as universally diffused through nature as water through the ocean. To this principle they attribute the power of retribution, and say of the wicked that, "though they may escape the meshes of terrestrial law, the celestial principle certainly will not endure them."
From these expressions, about "heaven," the "Supreme ruler," and the "principle of order," we might infer that the Chinese had some knowledge of the Ruler of the universe, and honoured him as such, were we not baffled by the very incoherent manner in which they express themselves, and shocked at the propensity to materialism which they constantly exhibit.
When describing the origin of the world, they talk in the following strain: "Before heaven and earth were divided, there existed one universal chaos; when the two energies of nature were gradually distinguished, and the yin and yang, or the male and female principles established. Then the purer influences ascended, and became the expansive heavens, while the grosser particles descended, and constituted the subjacent earth. From the combination of these two, all things were produced; and thus heaven is the father, and earth the mother of nature."
The principle of the Chinese cosmogony seems to be founded on a sexual system of the universe. That which Linnaeus found to exist in plants, the Chinese conceive pervades universal nature. Heaven and earth, being the grandest objects cognizable to human senses, have been considered by them as the parents of all things, or the superior and inferior principles of being. These they trace to an extreme limit, which possessed in itself the two powers combined. They say that one produced two, two begat four, and four increased to eight; and thus, by spontaneous multiplication, the production of all things followed. To all these existences, whether animate or inanimate, they attach the idea of sex; thus every thing superior presiding, luminous, hard, and unyielding, is of the masculine, while every thing of an opposite quality is ascribed to the feminine gender. Numerals are thus divided, and every odd number is arranged under the former, and every even number under the latter sex. This theory of the sexes was adopted by the ancient Egyptians, and appears in some of the fragments ascribed to Orpheus, while the doctrine of numbers taught by the Confucian school resembles in some degree the monad and dead of Pythagoras, of which some have spoken as the archetype of the world.
The Chinese system of cosmogony is connected with their scheme of the diagrams, which they say was brought on the back of a tortoise, coming up out of a river. These diagrams consist of a magic square, in which the figures are so disposed into parallel and equal ranks, as that the sums of each row, as well diagonally as laterally, shall be equal; according to the following form:—
| 4 | 9 | 2 |
| 3 | 5 | 7 |
| 8 | 1 | 6 |
Of these, every odd number represents heaven, or the superior principle; and every even number, earth, or the inferior principle: the odd numbers combined make 25, and the even ones, with the decade, 30; and by these 55 numbers, they fancy that all transformations are perfected, and the spirits act.
Their diagrams are arranged thus:—
the extreme point, or nullity, which is a mere speck, carried out, produces a line; that line, extended and separated, produces two, represented severally by a whole and a divided line; these lines, doubled and interchanged, produce four; and trebled, eight; which are the eight diagrams. When carried out to six lines, they constitute 64; and, increased to twenty-four lines, placed over each other, they make 16,777,216 changes. Finding that such extensive results could be produced, by a few combinations, they have been led to imagine, that all the manifold changes of nature, and the secrets of providence, are arranged according to, and may be discovered by, these numbers. Hence, their belief in "intelligible numbers," as the foundation of their cosmogony; and the employment of these numbers, to calculate destinies, by which unprincipled fortune tellers make a market of the simple hearted people.
In all bodies, the Chinese imagine that three things exist: first chĭh, tangible substance, which is the gross and sensible part of things; secondly, ke, primary matter, or the subtratum on which figure, and other qualities of bodies, are reared; and thirdly, le, an universal principle, which is present with every existence, inhering or adhering to it; but how or where attached, cannot be determined. This last, they call the principle of fitness, which corresponds nearly to what some Europeans denominate the eternal fitness of things, or the internal and essential forms. It is immaterial and incorporeal, without figure; but is a kind of principle of organization, inherent in material bodies, and considered as their root and origin. Le is almost uniformly believed to be an independent principle, not under the control of any superior being; while it regulates and remunerates the good and evil actions of men. After conversing long with the Chinese on the origin and superintendence of all things, and shewing them that the material heavens cannot rule, nor senseless numbers originate the animate and rational creation, they exclaim, "It is all to be resolved into this one principle of order." And yet they attach no personality to this principle; they do not speak of it, as willing, or acting, according to choice; nor do they pay divine honours to, or expect eternal favours from it; it is, after all, essentially connected with matter, and inseparable from body; and if considered as the basis of the Chinese cosmogony, shews that their whole system is founded in materialism.
Thus, whether the Chinese speak of heaven and earth, the extreme limit, or the universal principle, they still connect the idea of matter, whether high or low, gross or subtle, with what they say; and do not seem to have any definite conceptions of a pure, underived, independent, and self-existent spirit, originating, supporting, arranging, and governing all things.
The term, Shang-te, supreme ruler, as used in the ancient classics, corresponds, in some measure, to the Christian notion of God, exhibiting his supremacy, authority, and majesty; but it is much to be feared, that they connect with the expression, the ideas of state and pomp, and the service of ministers, such as earthly monarchs maintain and require. Some of the Confucians, also, are in the habit of considering the Supreme ruler, as synonymous with heaven and earth; and thus confound the creator with his creatures. If these mistakes could be guarded against, it is likely that the Chinese will get as definite an idea of God, by the use of the term, Shang-te, as by the employment of any other.
The followers of Confucius, now and then, talk about fate, which is a blind and irreversible decree, to which both gods and men are subject; but, by whom the decree is established, they do not inform us. Sometimes, they talk of the decrees of heaven; but if heaven be mere matter, how can it form decrees?
This sect acknowledges a material trinity. called heaven, earth, and man; meaning by the latter, the sages only. Heaven and earth, they say, produced human beings; but without communicating instruction, their work was incomplete. Now, as heaven and earth could not speak, it was necessary for the sages to come to their assistance; who, settling the form of government, and teaching the principles of right conduct, aid nature in the management of the world, and thus form a triad of equal powers and importance. These sages are supposed to possess intuitive perception of all truth; to know the nature of things, instantly, and to be able to explain every principle. The following is a description of them, from one of the Four Books: "It is only the thoroughly sincere, who can perfect his own nature; he who can perfect his own nature, can perfect the nature of other men; he who can perfect the nature of men, can perfect the nature of things; he who can perfect the nature of things, can assist heaven and earth in renovating and nourishing the world; and he who thus assists heaven and earth, forms a trinity with the powers of nature." Of this class, they reckon but few; the most distinguished, are the first emperors Yaou and Shun; the celebrated Wăn-wang, and his brother Chow-kung, with Confucius. The latter is described by one of his disciples, in the following extravagant terms: "His fame overflowed China, like a deluge, and extended to the barbarians; wherever ships or carriages reach — wherever human strength penetrates — wherever the heavens cover, and the earth sustains — wherever the sun and moon shed their light, — wherever frost or dew falls — wherever there is blood and breath — there were none who did not approach and honour him; therefore, he is equal to heaven." This expression "equal to heaven," is oft repeated by the Chinese, with reference to Confucius; and there can be no doubt that they mean, thereby, to place their favourite sage on a level with the powers of nature, and, in fact, to deify him. They even go the length of paying him divine honours; for it appears, by reference to a native work, that there are upwards of 1560 temples dedicated to Confucius; and, at the spring and autumnal sacrifices, there are offered to him, six bullocks, 27,000 pigs, 5,800 sheep, 2,800 deer, and 27,000 rabbits; making a total of 62,606 animals, immolated annually to the manes of Confucius, besides 27,600 pieces of silk; all provided by the government; in addition to the numerous offerings presented to him by private individuals. Thus, have these atheistical people deified the man, who taught them that matter was eternal, and that all existences originated in a mere principle.
But it may be asked, have the Confucians no idea of a spirit, and do they not pay divine honours to invisible beings? To this we may reply, that the learned in China talk largely of spirits and demons, but assign them a very inferior place in the scale of existence. Instead of teaching that the Great Spirit was the former of all things; they hold that spirits are far inferior to the visible and material heavens, and even rank below ancient sages, and modern rulers. Confucius confessed he did not know much about them, and therefore preferred speaking on other subjects. When one of his disciples asked him how he was to serve spiritual beings, he replied," not being able to serve men, how can you serve spirits?" And when the disciple continued to enquire about the dead, the sage replied," not knowing the state of the living, how can you know the state of the dead?" His universal maxim was, "Respect the gods, but keep them at a distance;" that is, shew them all due honour, but have as little to do with them as possible. It is customary with the Chinese, to attach a presiding spirit to each dynasty and kingdom, to the land and grain, to hills and rivers, wind and fire; while the four corners of the house, with the shop, parlour, and kitchen, of every dwelling, are supposed to be under the influence of some tutelary divinity. To these the sage considered it necessary to pay the accustomed honours, but was decidedly averse to what he called flattering the gods by constant services. Dr. Milne says, that "the word shin should very rarely, if ever, be rendered god, in translating from Chinese books; but rather aeon, gods, a spirit, an intelligence, &c. How far it can be proper to express the Christian idea of God by the same term, when writing for the Chinese, remains a question, which has long been agitated, and is yet undecided.
With regard to a future state of being, the Chinese are as much in the dark, as in what relates to the deity. They speak of the intellectual principle, as distinct from the animal soul; but do not say anything definitely about its existence after death. The sentence quoted above, shews how the philosopher evaded the question. Some of his followers have talked of three intellectual souls, and seven animal spirits, as attached to each individual; at death, the latter disperse; and of the former, one resides in the grave, the other follows the parental tablet, and the third wanders about like the genii over the mountains; but whether in a state of happiness or misery, the Chinese do not say. In fact, the Confucians do not connect the idea of retribution with the soul, or the invisible world at all; they imagine that all the rewards of virtue and vice, are confined to the present state; and if not dealt out during the life-time of the individual, will be visited on his children and grandchildren to the latest generation. The attachment of parents to their offspring, and the desire of perpetuating one's name and estate to future ages, are thus appealed to; but these feelings are far from influencing men to a suitable extent. When, therefore, a Confucian can calculate on escaping immediate infliction, and can harden himself against his posterity, he has nothing to allure him to goodness, but the principle of pursuing virtue for its own sake; which, in a corrupt heart, will not carry the individual far.
Thus, then, we find the far-famed school of Confucius deficient in two important points, the existence of a God, and the interest of the world to come; teaching a lifeless, cold-hearted, uninfluential system, which is powerless in the present, and hopeless for the future world. Of what avail is the parade about the five cardinal virtues, and the human relations; when the foundation of all virtue, and the most interesting of all relations, is unknown and neglected? The love of God is a principle which Confucius never broached, and which his disciples, until taught by a better master, cannot understand; while the employments and enjoyments of heaven never entered into their heads to conceive, nor into their hearts to appreciate. Surely, if ever any needed the teaching of the Divine Saviour, the sages of China do; and the first lesson they would have to learn in Immanuel's school is, humility.
Before quitting the system of Confucius, it may be well just to allude to the opinion of his followers regarding human nature. The orthodox sentiment on this subject is, that human nature is originally virtuous and that each individual is born into the world with a good disposition; by intercourse with others, and through the force of example, men become vicious; but the sages, by their instructions, awaken and renovate mankind; when they revert to their original purity. This doctrine has, however, met with its opponents; among the rest, one Kaou-tsze contended, that human nature was neither inclined to evil nor good, but might be turned either one way or the other. A conversation between him and a disciple of Confucius is recorded in the four Books, of which the following is the substance.
Kaou-tsze said, "Human nature is like the wood of the willow tree, and righteousness is like a bowl; the getting men to be good, is like working up the wood into bowls." Mang-tsze replied, "Can you turn wood at once into bowls? must you not cut and hack it, in order to form a bowl? and if it be necessary to cut and hack wood to make a bowl, do you mean to say, that we must cut and hack men, in order to render them good? This system of yours is calculated to make men abhor goodness, as contrary to their nature." Kaoutsze, not baffled by this reply, renewed his statement under another form, saying, "Human nature is like water gushing forth; if you turn it to the east, it will flow to the east; and if to the west, it will flow to the west; human nature has no preference for good or evil, just as water has no preference between cast and west." Măng-tsze replied, "Water has indeed no preference between east and west; but do you mean to say, that it has no choice between up and down? Human nature is good, just as water has a tendency to flow downwards, men are universally inclined to virtue, just as water invariably flows downwards." Feeling, however, that he had made rather a startling declaration, he qualified it by saying, "Water, by beating may be made to splash over your head, and by forcing may be made to pass over a mountain; but who would ever say that this is the natural tendency of water? It is because violence is applied to it. Thus men can be made vicious; but it is by no means their nature."
This curious dialogue shews at the same time the sentiments of the Confucian school, and their inconclusive mode of reasoning. From this we see also, that similes are not arguments; for here is a man employing the very same simile to prove men virtuous, which has been frequently used in the west to illustrate their vicious tendencies.
The next of the three sects, into which the Chinese are divided, is called Taou. This word means, originally, a way or path, a principle, and the principle from which heaven, earth, man, and nature emanate. Le is the latent principle, and Taou is the principle in action. It also means a word, to speak, and to say; and is very like the Logos, or the "eternal reason" of the Greeks. The founder of this sect was Laou-tan, commonly called Laou-tsze, who was cotemporary with Confucius; but the Taou, or Reason itself, they say, is uncreated and underived. Some idea of it may be gained from the following stanza:—
"How luminous is Eternal Reason!
"Uncreated and self-derived:
"The beginning and end of all the kalpas;[1]
"Before heaven and before earth;
"United brilliancy splendidly illuminated,
"For endless kalpas without interruption.
"On the east it instructed Father Confucius,
"On the west it renovated the golden Buddha:
"Hundreds of kings have received this law,
"The host of sages have followed this master:
"It is the first of all religions,
"Majestic beyond all majesty."
"What is there superior to heaven, and from which heaven and earth sprang? nay, what is there superior to space, and which moves in space? The great Taou is the parent of space, and space is the parent of heaven and earth; and heaven and earth produced men and things."
"The venerable prince (Taou) arose prior to the great original, standing at the commencement of the mighty wonderful, and floating in the ocean of deep obscurity. He is spontaneous and self-existing, produced before the beginning of emptiness, commencing prior to uncaused existences, pervading all heaven and earth, whose beginning and end no years can circumscribe."
"Before heaven and earth were divided, ere the great principles of nature were distinguished, amid the ocean of vast obscurity and universal stillness, there was a spontaneous concretion, out of which came a thousand million particles of primary matter, which produced 'emptiness.' Then, after nine hundred and ninety-nine billions of kalpas had passed away, the thousand million particles of primary matter again concreted, and produced 'space:' after another period of equal length, the particles of primary matter again concreted, and produced 'chaos.' After chaos was settled, heaven and earth divided, and human beings were born."
The founder of the Taou sect, called Laou-tsze, "the venerable philosopher," and Laou-keun, "the venerable prince," though coeval with Confucius, is said to have existed from eternity, and to him they ascribe the creation of the world, as in the following paragraph:—
"The venerable prince, the origin of primary matter, the root of heaven and earth, the occupier of infinite space, the commencement and beginning of all things, farther back than the utmost stretch of numbers can reach, created the universe."
One of the fabled incarnations of Laou-keun is thus described:—"The venerable prince existed before the creation, but was incarnate in the time Yang-këă, of the Shang dynasty, B. C. 1407; when from the regions of great purity and eternal reason, a subtle fluid de- scended, from the superior principle of nature, and was transformed into a dark yellow substance, about the size of a pill; which, rolling into the mouth of a pearly damsel, while she was asleep, caused her to conceive: the child was not born till eighty-one years afterwards, and on his appearance was grey headed: hence he was called Laou-tsze, the venerable one. The second appearance of this wonderful individual was in the person of Laou-tan, who was visited by Confucius, B. C. 500. A third appearance occurred in the third year of Kaou-tsoo, of the Tang dynasty, A. D. 623, when a man of Shan-se province reported, that on a certain hill he had seen an old man in white raiment, who said, "Go and tell the emperor, that I am Laou-keun, his ancestor." Upon which the emperor ordered a temple to be built for him.
The votaries of this sect talk a great deal about virtue, and profess to promote it by abstraction from the world, and the repression of desire: this latter they imagine is to be effected by eating their spirits, or stifling their breath, for a length of time. They say, that all depends on the subjection of the heart; and therefore mortify every feeling, in order to attain perfect virtue, which is, insensibility. Hence some of them wander away to the tops of mountains to cultivate reason, and renounce all intercourse with men, that their studies may not be interrupted. They affect to despise wealth, fame, and posterity; urging, that at death all these distinctions and advantages terminate, and the labour bestowed upon them is thrown away.
Much of their attention is taken up with the study of alchymy; and they fancy that, by the transmutation of metals, and the combination of various elements, they can produce the philosopher's stone, and the elixir of immortality. Some of them affect to have discovered an antidote against death; and when the powerful ingredients of this angelic potion sometimes produce the very effect which they wish to avoid, they say that the victims of their experiments are only gone to ramble among the genii, and enjoy that immortality above, which is not to be found below. Several of the Chinese emperors, deceived by the fair promises of these alchymists, have taken the draught, and paid the penalty. One of them having procured the elixir at an immense expense, ordered it to be brought before him; when one of his officers courageously drank off the full contents of the cup, in its way from the compounder to the throne: the enraged autocrat ordered the offender to be put to death; but he coolly replied, that all their efforts to terminate his existence would be vain; as, having drunk the elixir, his immortality was secure; or, the whole system was founded in error. This opened the emperor's eyes, the minister was pardoned, and the pretender driven from court.
The followers of Taou, like the Athenians of old, are "in all things too superstitious." While the Confucians have scarcely determined whether spirits exist or not, the advocates of eternal reason profess to have constant intercourse with, and control over, the demons of the invisible world. Chang Tëen-sze, the principal of the Taou sect, in China, who like the Lama of Thibet, is supposed to be immortal, or rather whose place is supplied by a successor as soon as the old one dies, assumes an authority over Hades. He appoints and removes the deities of various districts, just as the emperor does his officers; and no tutelary divinity can be worshipped, or is supposed capable of protecting his votaries, until the warrant goes forth under the hand and seal of this demon ruler, authorizing him to exercise his functions in a given region.
From the power which this individual is supposed to possess, his hand-writing is considered efficacious in expelling all noxious influences; and charms written by him are sold at a high price to those afraid of ghostly visits or unlucky accidents. In the absence of these autographs from the prince of the devils, each priest of Taou issues amulets, and large sums of money are realized by the disposal of small scraps of yellow paper with enigmatical characters upon them. Having induced the belief, that this year's imps are not to be terrified by last year's charms, they are particularly busy every new year, in writing out fresh amulets for the people; who would not rest securely in their habitations, unless fully assured that the devil was kept away by these infallible preventatives.
Death is with them peculiarly unclean; and, wherever it occurs, brings a number of evil influences into the dwelling, which are only to be expelled by the sacrifices and prayers of the priest of Taou. This is what they call cleansing the house; and, as it is attended with some expense, many prefer turning lodgers and strangers, in dying circumstances, out of doors, rather than have the house haunted with ghosts for years afterwards.
As it is necessary to purify houses, so it is important to preserve districts from contagion; and with this view public sacrifices are offered, to which the inhabitants generally subscribe. One of these solemnities is celebrated on the third day of the third moon, when the votaries of Taou go barefoot over ignited charcoal, by which they fancy that they triumph over the demons they dread, and please the gods they adore. On the anniversary of the birth of the "high emperor of the sombre heavens," they assemble together before the temple of this imaginary being, and having made a great fire, about fifteen or twenty feet in diameter, they go over it barefoot, preceded by the priests, and bearing the gods in their arms. The previous ceremonies consist of the chanting of prayers, the ringing of bells, the sprinkling of holy water, the blowing of horns, and the brandishing of swords, with which they strike the fire, in order to subdue the demon, and then dash through the devouring element. Much earnestness is manifested by those who officiate on these occasions; and they firmly believe, that if they possess a sincere mind, they will not be injured by the fire: but alas! their hearts must be very bad, as both priests and people get miserably burnt on these occasions. Yet the benefit supposed to accrue from the service is such, that the public willingly contribute large sums to provide the sacrifices, and to pay the performers. The surrounding mob seem to take a great interest in this ceremony; and when they set up their boisterous shoutings, and rush through the fire, seem to be literally mad upon their idols.
The adherents of Taou believe firmly in demoniacal possessions, and endeavour to avail themselves of the ravings of a disturbed imagination to discover future or hidden things. They imagine that the spirits of the invisible world employ the mouths of the possessed to declare audibly the mind of the demon. There are some who are regularly possessed, and some who can induce possession, which they call, "dancing the god." The author happened once to be present when such a scene was exhibited; the house where it was enacted, was nearly full of spectators; and at the head of the room, near the altar piece, stood a priest performing various incantations, and now and then striking the floor with a rope which he held in his hand. He then approached a bench, on which sat a native in a pensive mood, over whose head he blew a horn and rang a bell, and went through a few more ceremonies; when the man referred to, began to move his fingers, hands, and arms; then his knees and legs, till his whole body became convulsed, and he sprang up, and danced round the room like a madman. Just as he was in the act of falling, he was caught by the bye-standers, who listened attentively to what he might have to say, and stood ready to record every expression. The occasion of the ceremony was the dangerous illness of an inmate, for whom they wished to obtain an infallible prescription. The possessed soon announced the requisite remedy, which was something about three skeins of red thread, and half an ounce of carpenter's chips, to be boiled down in a pint of water, and a teacupfull given occasionally. After the unfolding of this wonderful recipe, the individual sank down into a sort of swoon, and was carried out.
Magic arts are used, or said to be used, by this sect; by means of which they profess to work wonders; some of them go about with swords thrust through their cheeks; and ride in sedan chairs, stuck round with sharp knives, without appearing to sustain any permanent injury. In the year 1819, an open boat, with an idol and offerings on board, drifted down the China sea, and was picked up at Malacca. The Chinese venerated it as a wondrous relic, and made it the occasion of many sacrifices and superstitions.
The Taou sect worship a variety of idols, some of which are imaginary incarnations of Eternal Reason; and others, rulers of the invisible world, or presiding divinities of various districts. Among the rest, are the "three pure ones," who are first in dignity; the "pearly emperor, and Supreme ruler," the most honourable in heaven: the god of the north, the god of fire, with lares and penates, genii and inferior divinities without number.
We now come to the consideration of the third religion in China, namely, the sect of Buddha. The account given of the founder of this system is as follows; Sakya Muni Buddha was born in the twenty-fourth year of Chaou-wang, B.C. 1027, at Magadha, in South Bahar; in his nineteenth year, he thought of quitting his family connections, and becoming a recluse, but was at a loss whom to adopt for his spiritual guide. He attended the four schools, but was not satisfied with them, because by all their studies old age, sickness, and death could not be avoided; when one night a celestial being appeared at the window, saying,—"Young prince! you have long talked of quitting your family: now is the time; come away!" The prince, hearing this, cheerfully passed over the city walls, and went to the hills to cultivate virtue. After sixteen years' probation, without following the directions of a master, he entirely repressed the vicious propensities, until he became without feeling, and completely perfect. After escaping the infirmities of age, and avoiding the metempsychosis, he was annihilated, B.C. 948. Before his absorption into nothing, he delivered the following stanza:—
"In his system of religion, Buddha followed no system:
"But his baseless system still became a system:
"He now delivers you this unorganized plan,
"That, by imitating it, you may form a system."
In the eighth year of the reign of Ming-te, of the Han dynasty, A.D. 66, the religion of Buddha first entered China. The emperor, hearing that there was a divine personage in the west, of the name of Buddha, sent messengers to India, to inquire into his doctrines, obtain his books, and bring some of his priests to China. The historian tells us that "the general scope of these books was to exhalt annihilation, and promote compassion by not killing animals, affirming that when men die, their spirits do not scatter, but, assuming another form, receive the recompence of all the good and evil they have ever committed. Hence they constantly aim to cultivate and improve their spirits, till they become amalgamated into Buddha."
The empire is now full of Buddhist temples, and the priests of this sect actually swarm. They profess to renounce all family connections—take a vow of celibacy—shave their heads—dwell in temples—abstain from animal food—and subsist on the voluntary contributions of the people. The gods they worship are the three precious Buddhas—the past, present, and future; Kwan-yin, the goddess of mercy, the goddess of the small-pox, the patroness of barren women, the god of wealth, &c. The three Buddhas are generally represented half-naked, with woolly hair, in a sitting posture; one holding the mundane egg in his lap; one adorned with the sacred thread; and one with his finger upraised, as though engaged in instructing mankind. In front of the three images, or in a separate temple, is an image of the goddess of mercy; in a niche, on one side, the god of war; and, on the other, the protectress of seamen. A high table, for candles and incense, stands before the images; and, in the centre of the temple, is a large iron caldron, for burning gilt paper in: on either side the hall, are placed a bell and a drum, to arouse the attention of the god, when important personages come to adore him; and a few cushions and mats, on which the worshippers kneel, make up the furniture of a Buddhist temple. They have no sabbaths nor periodical seasons of rest; but observe the new and full moon, with particular solemnity; and keep, on the whole, one hundred and sixty-two fast-days every year, besides the matins and vespers of each day.
The daily service consists in the offering up of certain forms of prayer, in the Sanscrit language, which few even of the priests understand; and the repetition of the sacred name of Buddha, to which they attach great merit. In a Buddhistic work we have an exhortation to meditate on and recite the name of Buddha, a few extracts from which may serve to shew the extent to which they carry their vain repetitions:—
{{fine block| "Why do we exhort men to fix the thoughts on Buddha? but because the most serious consequences are connected with the thoughts of men. That which draws forth the soul renders fate favourable, and life secure; all proceeds from this source. If the thoughts are good, you ascend to heaven; if bad, you descend to hell. One correct thought will cause you, in the transmigration, to return to the world in the shape of a man; and one cross thought, in that of a beast. Why are there so many hungry ghosts in hell? Merely because of wrong thoughts. Think of the devil, and you will become a devil; think of Buddha, and you will be transformed into Buddha. Would you prevent the six grades of the metempsychosis? There is no other method but to think of Buddha. If you will not think of Buddha, you will lose a human body, and for ten thousand ages not be able to regain it. To think of Buddha, and yet not be delivered from alternate births and deaths—it is impossible. If men pray to Buddha, and yet do not become Buddhas, the error is not in Buddha; it is because the mouth prays, and not the mind. We must have Buddha in the mouth, and Buddha in the mind—neither of these can be dispensed with.
"But it may be said, there are thousands and myriads of Buddhas, why then repeat the name of Amida Buddha only? The answer is, because he swore that, if any one, in all the ten worlds, should, after repeating his name, fail to attain life in his kingdom, he would cease to be a god.
"The land of his kingdom is yellow gold. Its gardens and palaces are all adorned with gems. It is encircled with rows of trees, and borders of network. There are lovely birds of sparkling plumage, and exquisite notes. The great god O-lo-han, the goddess of mercy, the unnumbered Buddhas, the host of demi-gods, and the sages of heaven and earth, will all be assembled in that sacred spot. But in that kingdom there are no women, for the women who will live in that country are first changed into men. The inhabitants are produced from the lotus flower, and have pure and fragrant bodies, fair and well-formed countenances, with hearts full of wisdom, and without vexation. They dress not, and yet are not cold; they dress, and are not made hot. They eat not, and yet are not hungry; they eat, and yet never know satiety. They are without pain and sickness, and never become old. Enjoying themselves, at ease, they follow Buddha, gaily frisking about without trouble. The felicity of that kingdom may be justly considered superlative, and the age of its inhabitants without measure. This is the paradise of the west, and the way to obtain it is the most simple imaginable, depending on one sentence, O-me-to Fǔh (Amida Buddha); yet the world will not take the trouble to seek this good, so easily attained, but put on their iron boots, and go in quest of another road.
"Swear, then, that you will henceforth repeat the name of Buddha, and seek to live in that western world of joy. Give up books and classics for others to fag at; leave the thousand roads for others to toil in. Beyond this sentence, "O-me-to Fǔh," you need not a single word. Let each seek a retired room, and sweep it clean; place therein an image of Buddha; put incense and pure water, with a lighted lamp before it; whether painted on paper or carved in wood, the figure is just the same as the true Buddha; love it, as your father and mother—venerate it, as your prince and ruler. Morning and evening, worship before it with reverence; on going out, inform it; and, on returning, do the same. Wherever you travel, act as in the presence of Buddha. Whether you eat or drink, offer it up first to Buddha. Raising the eye, or moving the lips, let all be for Buddha. Let not the rosary leave your hands, or O-me-to Fǔh depart from your mouths. Repeat it with a loud voice, and with a low one; in lines of six words, and four words; quickly and slowly; audibly and silently; with clasped hands, and with bended knees; when fingering the rosary, and when walking in the road; when in a crowd, and when alone; whether at home or abroad; whether at leisure or in a bustle; whether sitting or lying; repeat it, even in your dreams. Thus to repeat it will move your feelings, and make your tears to flow; thus to repeat it will inspire the celestial gods with awe, and the terrestrial demons with reverence; thus to repeat it will make heaven rejoice, and the gods be glad. At the sound of Buddha's name, the palace of the king of devils moves and shakes. At the sound of Buddha's name, the wood of swords and the mountain of knives (in hell) will, for you, be beaten as small as dust. At the sound of Buddha's name, hundreds and thousands of miseries will all melt away. At the sound of Buddha's name, the debt of gratitude to parents, princes, superiors, and benefactors, will all be paid. The man who would squeeze out the oil must grind the more forcibly; and the mariner who would stem the swelling tide, must ply the oar more vigorously. If you realize, behind you, the boiling caldron of hell, and, before you, the lotus pools of heaven, though all the world should try to prevent your repeating the name of Buddha, their efforts would be entirely vain." }}
Such is the heaven of Buddha, and such the way to obtain it. Every morning, after dressing, the devotee is to turn his face to the west, stand upright, clasp his hands, and with a continued sound, say "O-me-to Fǔh." To exhaust one breath, is called "a repetition:" these repetitions must be according to the length of one's breathing. When the breath is quite out, that is the limit. The sound should be modulated according to the due medium. While repeating the name of Buddha, the worshipper is directed to be as serious as if going to execution, as if fleeing from a mortal enemy, or as if surrounded with floods and flames. The advantages said to accrue to the repeater are the following: all the gods of heaven will protect him; all the demi-gods will attend him; all the Buddhas will think of him; no devil can harm him; nor calamities afflict him; all his former crimes shall melt away, and he shall be delivered even from the crime of murder; his dreams shall be pleasant, and his heart always glad; the world will respect him; and when he dies he will see O-me-to Fŭh, and all the sacred ones, who will introduce him to the pure land.
During the Sung dynasty, they say, that one Hwang, a blacksmith, was in the habit of repeating the name of Buddha, with all his might, at every stroke of the hammer. One day, whilst at his work, he repeated the following verse:—
"Ting ting tang tang,
"Like the iron's clang:
"Peace is come to my breast,
"I am bound for the west,"
saying which he was instantly transformed into Buddha, and, as the story goes, flew away to heaven.
In addition to the name of Buddha, the adherents of this sect are in the habit of repeating prayers or charms, composed in some Indian language, the sounds of which are expressed in the Chinese character, and rehearsed by the worshippers, without their understanding a single word. The following is a specimen:—
"Nan-mo o-me-to po-yay, to-ta-këă to yay, to-te-yay-ta, o-me-le-too po-kwăn, o-me-le-to, seĕh-tau-po-kwăn, o-me-le-to, kwăn-këă-lan-te, o-me-le-to, kwăn-këă-lan-te, këa-me-ne, këa-këa-na, chěh-to-këa-le, po-po-ho."
This form is as unintelligible to the Chinese as it is to the English reader. A very few of the priests, only, understand it: and yet it is supposed efficacious in removing all evil. The books of Buddha affirm, that the god, O-me-to, rests on the head of those who repeat this prayer. When a person has repeated it 200,000 times, the intelligence of the deity begins to bud within him: when he has repeated it 300,000 times, he is at no great distance from a personal vision of the god O-me-to. During the dynasty Tsin, they say that a teacher of the name of Yuen, whilst repeating this prayer, saw a divine person from the west, holding in his hand a silver throne, who addressed him, saying, "Celebrated teacher! thy days are ended; ascend this throne, and be carried to yonder region of exquisite delights." The people in the neighbourhood heard the sound of harmonious music in the air, and a marvellous fragrance was diffused all around.
The Buddhists talk a great deal about compassion, and insist on its display by all their votaries: but their kindness is only manifested towards brutes and ghosts; while the miserable amongst men are left to starve. They consider it an act of merit to rescue animals from the butcher's knife and the cook's caldron, keeping in the temples a number of fat hogs, and lazy dogs, who are sustained until they die of obesity, or perish by scurvy. No persons are permitted to slay or eat these animals, lest the spirits of their ancestors should be residing in them, and the murderers be guilty of parricide, and the consumers of cannibalism. Their mercy to the brute creation, however, is not so singular as their providing for hungry ghosts; we may, therefore, be excused for alluding to this practice a little more fully.
According to the precepts of Confucius, children are bound to sacrifice to their deceased ancestors; and at the anniversary of their parents' death, as well as at the annual feast of the tombs, all persons must present offerings to the manes of their progenitors. These sacrifices are not offered as an atonement or propitiation; the pardon of sin, or restoration to the Divine favour, do not enter into the minds of the Chinese whilst performing these duties; but merely the support of the departed individual. The ghosts are supposed to feed upon the provisions offered up; and, in consequence, forbear to annoy their descendants; or, it may be, exert some influence in their favour. As the food, however, does not decrease in bulk after being feasted on by the spirits, the Chinese imagine that the flavour only is taken away, while the substance remains. These ethereal beings, they think, content themselves with the more subtle and imperceptible parts of the food, leaving the grosser particles to be devoured by the worshippers; while the Chinese contend that there is no more taste in the sacrificial food, after the ceremony is over, than in the white of an egg. Thus, those who leave children and grandchildren, are well provided for by their descendants; but, alas! for those poor wretches who happen to die without posterity. Deprived of all sustenance and relief, they wander about in the invisible regions, cold, hungry, and destitute.
The Buddhists have taken advantage of this prevailing sentiment, and have grounded on it a variety of superstitious services. In the first place, they induce survivors to call in their aid at almost every funeral, that the souls of their deceased relatives may be released out of purgatory, and be enabled to avail themselves of the provisions presented. But, not content with persuading private families to employ them, these fellows have succeeded in getting up public services on behalf of the wretched ghosts, who have no posterity to provide for them. This, they put forth, as entirely a benevolent undertaking, and solicit subscriptions for it on charitable grounds. The ceremony is generally performed during the seventh moon; and as each district, tything, and street, has hungry ghosts of its own, so each locality must have a separate sacrifice. A committee is appointed for collecting the funds, and laying in the necessary provisions. On the day fixed for the ceremony, stages are erected, one for the priests and one for the provisions; flags and lanterns are displayed near, while gongs and drums are beaten, to give notice to the forlorn ghosts that a rich feast is provided for them; and then the priests set to work to repeat their prayers, and move their fingers in a peculiar way, by which means they believe the gates of hell are opened, and the hungry ghosts come forth to receive the boon. Some of the spectators profess to be able to see the opening portals, and the scampering demons, pale and wan, with hair standing on end, and every rib discernible, hurrying up to the high table, and shouldering away the baskets of fruit and pots of rice, or whole hogs and goats, as the case may be; and returning with satisfied looks, as if they had enough to last them till the next anniversary. The world of spirits, according to the Chinese, is like the world of men: and as, in this life, it is impossible to live without eating, or to obtain comforts without money; so, in the life to come, the same state of things prevails. Hence, those who wish to benefit the departed, must not only feed them, once in the year, but supply them with cash, for unavoidable expenses. In order to remit money into the invisible world, they procure small pieces of paper, about four inches square, in the middle of which are affixed patches of tin-foil, or gold leaf, which represent gold and silver money; these, they set fire to, and believe that they are thus transformed into real bullion; passing through the smoke into the invisible world. Large quantities of this material are provided, and sacrificial paper constitutes a great article of trade and manufacture, affording employment to many myriads of people.
Besides transmitting money to the distressed and indigent spirits, the Chinese think it necessary to provide their ghostly friends with clothes, and other articles, adapted for their use, in the shades below. With this view, they cause coats and garments to be delineated on paper, which pass through the fire, as certainly and as regularly as the paper money, into the abodes of spirits. Others construct paper houses, with furniture, cooking utensils, and domestic slaves, all ready for use on their arrival; and, in order to certify the conveyance of the estate, they draw up writings, and have them signed and sealed in the presence of witnesses, stipulating that on the arrival of the property in Hades, it shall be duly made over to the individuals specified in the bond; which done, they burn it with the house; and rest assured that their friends obtain the benefit of what they have sent them. Thus, they "make a covenant with the grave: and, with hell, they are at agreement."
When the priests have gone through their service, and the ghosts are supposed to have been satisfied, a signal is given, and the rabble rush forward to scramble for what the spirits have left, which is, all the material part of the food. It is amusing to see the eagerness and agility with which the mob seize on these leavings; for, although the stage is generally twenty feet high, with the boards projecting about two or three feet beyond the head of the poles, the more expert manage to mount the high table, and engrossing what they can for themselves, bear it off, imagining that food over which so many prayers have been said, must be attended with a blessing. It is curious, however, to observe, how hypocrisy creeps into a religious service of so anomalous a character. The provisions consist of fruit and confectionary, with rice and vegetables, piled up in basins and baskets, which, to the eye, appear mil to overflowing; but, in reality, the hollow of each vessel is filled with coarse paper or plantain stalk, and the provisions are only thinly scattered over the top. On being remonstrated with, for thus deceiving the ghosts, the worshippers reply, that the spirits who are invited to the feast know no better, and by this means they make a little go a great way.
One cannot but turn with disgust from this system of feeding, paying, and yet cheating spiritual beings; and ask, with surprise, is this the mode of worship adopted by a great, civilized, and learned people like the Chinese? After all the teaching of their boasted sages, their pratings about eternal reason, and the incarnations of the divine Buddha, is it come to this, that the wise Celestials display a silliness and absurdity in their religious practices, which children would scarcely practise? It is true, we do not find in their ceremonious observances, any of that impurity or cruelty, which disgraces the religion of India; but we do find a childishness, which we should hardly have expected from a people, in many other respects so shrewd and intelligent. So true is it, that the world by wisdom knew not God; and so necessary do we find divine revelation, in order to guide man in the way to heaven. It is comparatively easy for deists in Europe, who derive, though they will not acknowledge it, much assistance from the sacred scriptures, to draw up a system of natural theology, which shall look well, and sound pleasingly; but let them go to China, where little or no assistance has been derived from supernatural discoveries, and they will then see, how the wisest drivel in divine and eternal things, and how far they fall short of even children in Christianity.
One of the most favourite doctrines of Buddha is, that all things originated in nothing, and will revert to nothing again. Hence, annihilation is the summit of bliss; and nirupan, nirvana, or nonentity, the grand and ultimate anticipation of all. Contemplation and abstractedness of mind, with a gradual obliteration of all sense and feeling, are considered the nearest approaches to bliss, attainable on earth; and the devotees of this system aim and affect to have no joys or sorrows, hopes or fears, sense or emotion, either of body or mind; living without looking, speaking, hearing, smelling, or feeling; yea, without eating, and without breathing, until they approach to that enviable state of perfection, annihilation. Buddha is nothing, and to escape the various transmigrations, to rise above the happiness of heaven, and to be absorbed into Buddha, is to be amalgamated into nothing. Those who have attained the greatest nearness to this perfect abstraction, are considered the most holy; and if they can manage to sustain life, without appearing to live, they are denominated present Buddhas, and worshipped accordingly. The world-renouncing priest, with vacant stare and emaciated look, not deigning to regard any thing in heaven or on earth, receives divine honours from the wondering by-standers, who think him something more than mortal, because fast approaching to nonentity.
The Buddhist priests, though honoured by their immediate adherents, are treated with the utmost scorn by the literati of China. The indolent lives they lead, and their profession of celibacy, are both odious to the Confucians; not aiding the productiveness of nature, they are looked upon as drones in society, who do nothing towards the improvement of the world, or the benefit of posterity. Hence to be called "a shaven headed priest," is a term of reproach, which a Chinese gentleman would ill brook. These cloistered monks subsist principally by begging, take a vow of poverty, and from their destitute and abject condition, get into habits of sly deceit and cringing meanness, which render them still more the objects of contempt. They seldom cultivate learning, and are content with being able to read their prayers, without understanding them. They are not allowed to attend the public examinations, as long as they continue priests; and thus every avenue to advancement is closed against them. Their numbers prevent them from making much profit by their profession; and most of them are obliged, whether they will or not, to carry out their vow of poverty. The degraded state of the Buddhist priesthood, and the dilapidated condition of their temples, would intimate the speedy downfall of the system, and should encourage Christians to undermine, what is already tottering to ruin.
We cannot conclude our account of the Buddhistic religion, without noticing the similarity of its ceremonies to those of the church of Rome. The points of coincidence are many and striking. The celibacy, tonsure, professed poverty, secluded abodes, and peculiar dress of the priests: the use of the rosary, candles, incense, holy water, bells, images, and relics, in their worship; their belief in purgatory, with the possibility of praying souls out of its fires; the offering up of prayers in a strange language, with their incessant repetition; the pretension to miracles; the similarity of their altar pieces; and the very titles of their intercessors, such as "goddess of mercy," "holy mother," "queen of heaven," with the image of a virgin, having a child in her arms, holding a cross, are all such striking coincidences, that the catholic missionaries were greatly stumbled at the resemblance between the Chinese worship and their own, when they came over to convert the natives to Christianity; and some of them thought, that the author of evil had induced these pagans to imitate the manners of holy mother church, in order to expose her ceremonies to shame.
On reviewing the three systems, we find that Confucius taught his disciples nothing definite concerning God or the future world; his scheme of cosmogony is irrational and unsatisfactory; and his compliance with the common superstitions, inconsistent and time-serving. The doctors of Eternal Reason make use of some expressions respecting an underived and all-pervading principle; but they have mixed up so much superstitious nonsense with their system, and are such gross idolaters in practice, that we must pronounce them as far from the truth, as the philosophic sect. While the religion of Buddha, imported from the west, though it talks about the retributions of a future life, and professes to manifest much compassion; yet in denying a first principle, and a last end; in contradicting the existence of an everlasting God, and eternal retribution; in deriving all things from nothing, and in making all things revert to nihility again, as the essence of being and the summit of bliss; has deluded the inhabitants of China, still more than their indigenous systems, and left them to the blackness of darkness for ever.
It is very remarkable, however, that all the sects in China acknowledge a trinity. The Confucians speak of the three powers of nature—heaven, earth, and man; the Taouists have some references to the "three pure ones," who combine in themselves the essence of eternal reason; and the Buddhists speak of the "three precious ones," viz., the past, present, and future Buddhas. In whatever these notions originated, the coincidence is striking, and deserves to be noted by those, who think that they can find the doctrine of a trinity in all religious creeds, and who suppose, that the idea was derived by traditions from the early progenitors of mankind.
Another circumstance, in which the three religions of China resemble each other, is their atheism. The Confucians derive their diagrams, or mystic numbers, from the extreme point, or nullity; the Taouists talk of myriads of concretions, producing emptiness; and the Buddhist system is founded in nonentity. "No first cause" characterizes all the sects; and the Supreme, self-existent God is scarcely traceable through the entire range of their metaphysics; and yet, the Chinese manage to combine, the apparently irreconcileable principles of atheism and polytheism. "Gods many, and lords many," are adopted by every sect, and it is more easy to find a god than a man in China. Though they account no divinity to be eternal, yet they discover a god in every thing. Their temples, houses, streets, roads, hills, rivers, carriages, and ships are full of idols: every room, niche, corner, door, and window, is plastered with charms, amulets, and emblems of idolatry: so that while they acknowledge no god, they are overrun with gods; and find it their greatest burthen to support and worship their numerous pantheon.
- ↑ Kalpa is a Hindoo term for time, denoting about one thousand ages.