Within this China of the Chow dynasty there might be a population, in Confucius's time, of from 10,000,000 to 15,000,000. We read frequently, in the classical books, of the “ten thousand states,” in which the people were distributed; but that is merely a grand exaggeration. In what has been called, though erroneously, as we shall see, Confucius's History of his own Times, we find only 13 states of note, and the number of all the states, large and small, which can be brought together from it, and the much more extensive supplement to it by Tso K‘iu-ming, not much posterior to the sage, is under 150.
Chow was a feudal kingdom. The lords of the different territories belonged to five orders of nobility, corresponding closely to the dukes, marquises, earls, counts, and barons of feudal Europe. The theory of the constitution required that the princes, on every fresh succession, should receive investiture from the king, and thereafter appear at his court at stated times. They paid to him annually certain specified tributes, and might be called out with their military levies at any time in his service. A feudal kingdom was sure to be a prey to disorder unless there were energy and ability in the character and administration of the sovereign; and Confucius has sketched, in the work referred to above, the Annals of Lu, his native state, for 242 years, from 722 to 481 B.C., which might almost be summed up in the words: “In those days there was no king in China, and every prince did what was right in his own eyes.”[1] In 770 B.C. a northern horde had plundered the capital, which was then in the present department of Si-gan, Shen-si, and killed the king, whose son withdrew across the Ho and established himself in a new centre, near the present city of Loh-yang in Ho-nan; but from that time the prestige of Chow was gone. Its representatives continued for four centuries and a half with the title of king, but they were less powerful than several of their feudatories. The Annals of Lu, enlarged by Tso K‘iu-ming so as to embrace the history of the kingdom generally, are as full of life and interest as the pages of Froissart. Feats of arms, great battles, heroic virtues, devoted friendships, and atrocious crimes make the chronicles of China in the 5th, 6th, and 7th centuries before the birth of Christ as attractive as those of France and England in the 14th and some other centuries after it. There was in China in the former period more of literary culture and of many arts of civilization than there was in Europe in the latter. Not only the royal court, but every feudal court, had its historiographers and musicians. Institutions of an educational character abounded. There were ancient histories and poems, and codes of laws, and books of ceremonies. Yet the period was one of wide-spread and ever-increasing suffering and degeneracy. While the general government was feeble, disorganization was at work in each particular state.
But three things must be kept in mind when we compare feudal China with feudal Europe,—three elements which wrought to give to the former peculiarities of character for which our better acquaintance with the latter will not have prepared us. First, we must take into account the long duration of the time through which the central authority was devoid of vigour. For about five centuries state was left to contend with state, and clan with clan in the several states. The result was chronic misrule, and misery to the masses of the people, with frequent famines. Secondly, we must take into account the institution of polygamy, with the low status assigned to woman, and the many restraints put upon her. In the ancient poems, indeed, there are a few pieces which are true love songs, and express a high appreciation of the virtue of their subjects; but there are many more which tell a different tale. The intrigues, quarrels, murders, and grossnesses that grew out of this social condition it is difficult to conceive, and would be impossible to detail. Thirdly, we must take into account the absence of strong and definite religious beliefs, properly so called, which has always been a characteristic of the Chinese people. We are little troubled, of course, with heresies, and are not shocked by the outbreaks of theological zeal; but where thought as well as action does not reach beyond the limits of earth and time, we do not find man in his best estate. We miss the graces and consolations of faith; we have human efforts and ambitions, but they are unimpregnated with divine impulses and heavenly aspirings.
Confucius appeared, according to Mencius, one of his most distinguished followers (371–288 B.C.), at a crisis in the nation's history. “The world,” he says, “had fallen into decay, and right principles had disappeared. Perverse discourses and oppressive deeds were waxen rife. Ministers murdered their rulers, and sons their fathers. Confucius was frightened by what he saw,—and he undertook the work of reformation.”
