nourish and cherish their sons. Their labour soon becomes remunerative, they support their parents in their old age, and when these are gathered to their fathers they perform the prescribed observances at their tombs,—offering sacrifices at fixed periods to the souls of the departed, and keeping the tombs in repair. Should anything interfere with the repose of the dead, the living may expect to be visited with misfortune; and to allow the soul of a parent to pass between its tomb and the households of the descendants, the entrance to the grave must be kept unimpeded. Curiously enough, the tombs, especially in the south of China, are all made in the shape of an O. This is probably an importation from the West.
The principal religions of China are Buddhism, Taouism, and Confucianism, to which must be added Mahometanism in the northern and western provinces of the empire. Buddhism was introduced from India during the 1st century of the Christian era; and thus coming at a time when the national mind had been prepared by the teachings of Confucius and the mysticisms of Laou-tsze for the reception of a religious system which should satisfy the requirements of its higher nature, the new faith spread rapidly through the country, and at the present day numbers more adherents than either of the other two leading religions. Laou-tsze, who was the founder of the Taouist sect, was a contemporary of Confucius. Like that sage also, he held office at the court of Chow, but being disheartened at the want of success attending his efforts to reform the manners of the age, he retired into private life and devoted himself to the composition of The Sûtra of Reason and Virtue. In this work he enunciated a scheme of philosophy which bears a strong analogy to the doctrines of the Quietists and Manichæists, the leading point being the relation between something which he calls Taou and the universe. The philosophical bearing of his system was, however, soon lost sight of and his profound speculations were exchanged for the pursuit of immortality and the search after the philosopher's stone by his followers. But while Buddhism and Taouism find their adherents among the common people, Confucianism is par excellence the religion of the learned. The opinions and teachings of the sage are their constant study; and at stated periods they assemble in temples devoted to his honour to worship at the shrine of the “Throneless King.” But the process of decay, which has been going on for so many centuries in the distinctive features of these creeds, has served so to obliterate the lines of demarcation which originally separated them, that at the present day the dogmas of Buddha and Laou-tsze and the teachings of Confucius may, as far as the masses are concerned, be treated as the foundations of a common faith.
Education is probably more widely spread among the male population in China than in any other country. Being the only high road to honour and emolument it is eagerly sought after by all who are desirous of following an official career, while the universal respect for letters which has become a national tradition encourages all of every degree to gain at least a smattering of learning—except the women. Very little trouble is taken with the education of girls. If they are taught to be good needle-women and expert cooks, if they learn to act modestly and to show due deference to their superiors, little more is as a rule required of them. But it is very different with the men. No one can hold any Government office unless he has passed at least the first of the three great literary competitive examinations, and the whole education of boys is arranged with the object of enabling them to pass successfully through these ordeals. Unfortunately for the real education of the aspirants to office, the only subject required of them is a knowledge of the Nine Classics, and the result is that from childhood upwards these works are the only text-books which are put into the hands of Chinese schoolboys. These they are taught to regard as the supreme models of excellence, and any deviation either from the opinions they contain or from the style in which they are written, is looked upon as heretical. The result is that there have grown up in China generation after generation of men who have learned to elevate mere memory above genius, and whose mental powers have been dwarfed by servile imitation and by the paltry literalism of the schools.
Turning to the every-day customs and manners of the Chinese, it is passing strange to find how diametrically opposed they are to what we are familiar with. In a country “where,” as has been said by Wingrove Cook, “the roses have no fragrance, and the women no petticoats; where the labourer has no Sabbath, and the magistrate no sense of honour; where the needle points to the south, and the sign of being puzzled is to scratch the antipodes of the head; where the place of honour is on the left hand, and the seat of intellect is in the stomach; where to take off your hat is an insolent gesture, and to wear white garments is to put yourself into mourning,” it would at first sight seem useless to seek for any point of similarity with ourselves. But it is extremely probable, for instance, that the choice of the left as the seat of honour is in principle entirely at one with our custom of considering the right hand as the place due to the most highly-honoured guest, and that both are survivals of the ancient and almost universal adoration of the sun. The needle of the Chinese compass points towards the south, and every house in China of any pretensions faces the same way, as well as the state seats in all reception rooms. The place on the left of the host, therefore, is that nearest to the light-bringing, life-producing East, and hence its title to honour; and in the same way the opposite custom among ourselves is susceptible of a like interpretation. In daily life the Chinese are frugal, sober, and industrious. Their wants are few, and they are easily satisfied. The poorer classes live almost entirely on rice and vegetables, to which they sometimes add small pieces of fish or meat. Their clothes are of the cheapest kind, and they are so accustomed to crowded apartments that house rent forms an insignificant item in a Chinaman s expenditure. Thus a Chinaman can live where a European would starve, and it is on account of the advantages which he thus possesses, combined with sobriety and frugality, that he is able to underbid the American workmen in California, and the English colonist in Australia, in almost every branch of industry. The over-populated condition in which China has been for so many centuries has had a powerful influence in thus moulding the national character. Vast as China is, it cannot contain all those who call themselves her sons and daughters, and in many cities a large section of the inhabitants are driven to live in boats on the neighbouring rivers and lakes. It would be very difficult to say how the boat population provide food for themselves and their families; indeed, were it not for the extreme cheapness of their ordinary daily food, and for their sober habits, they could not do so. Spirits—they have no wine—appear to have no great attraction to Chinamen. They drink them occasionally, and sometimes to excess, but a reeling Chinaman is rarely to be seen in the streets. Drunkenness is not a national vice, but, unfortunately, their abstinence does not extend to opium, a drug which seems to have a greater attraction for them than for any other people on the face of the earth. They take to it greedily, and when once the habit of smoking it becomes confirmed, the difficulty of relinquishing it is exceedingly great. There has, no doubt, been much exaggeration in what has been talked and written on this subject. But on the testimony of Chinamen themselves the effects of opium smoking must
