THE WORSHIP OF CONFUCIUS.
By Rev. W. T. A. Barber
For centuries past the learned classes have given to China her rulers; they are the natural leaders of the people; their word is all powerful for good or ill; and any church which sets before it the bringing of this mighty nation to Christ cannot afford to ignore these two millions and a quarter of its natural aristocrats. What, then, are the elements of their mental and spiritual life? The same Confucian books, conned and mastered in the same order, have formed their mental warp and woof; they have acquired all that was worth knowing in the world. The lofty moral maxims of these books have become so many pegs to hang competitive essays on, and the result is a mass of high-sounding words, with the heart of their meaning eaten out. We have thus all the elements of the Pharisee. Confucianism deals with the duties of man to man; it is silent as to all beyond the realm of sense, and the Confucianist scholar is sense-bound. Confucius said, "The part of wisdom is to attend carefully to our duties to men, and while we respect the gods, to keep aloof from them." We have thus all the elements of the Sadducee; and, as in all systems in which man can see nothing higher than his idolized self, there is no sense of sin. If you desire to see the highest point to which their system rises, come with me to the worship of Confucius. The midnight has passed in a Chinese city; the dawn is yet an hour distant. We walk along the dark, narrow streets till we reach the roof-curved gates of a great temple, which bears the legend in golden letters, "His virtue is a match for heaven and earth." Soldiers are picketed around their large lanterns; sedan chairs and their bearers are everywhere awaiting the mandarins who have entered for the worship. We enter a large court open to the sky; around this courtyard are set huge stacks of reeds, ready for bonfires; at the head of the court, beneath a great roof, is a high platform whereon stands the tablet of the "Sage of Ten Thousand Ages,"—Confucius. Before this are spread sacrifices, the ox—sacred to him alone beside supreme heaven—the pig, the sheep, and in cups and platters the animal and vegetable products of the land.267To right and left are smaller tablets, each to two great disciples, and before them sacrifices similar, save only for the ox. Down the cloisters of the court are set the tablets of his lesser disciples, arranged in groups, and before each group are set similar sacrifices. There is a pause, a stir, lights are set to the bonfires, which crackle upward; then enters a choir, dressed in blue robes trimmed with black velvet, with tall feathers on their head-dresses, marching two and two, till, with ancient wind instruments of music in their hands, they take their stand on the platform, where candles have been lighted and incense curls up in the still air. Behind them enter the high mandarins of the province, the viceroy, with supreme power over sixty millions of his fellow-men, the governor, all the others, clad in silken robes of state and hats of crimson floss silk, taking their station according to rank in the center of the courtyard. The high, lilting voice of the master of the ceremonies cries out, "Bow your heads!" and the proud mandarins kneel, bowing their heads thrice three times to the very earth. Then at the different words of command the various officials are taken to do their worship before each of the shrines. The whole scene, the crackling flames roaring upward to the solemn stars, the weird music up and down the gamut, the stately dance of the choir, with their interlacing feathers against the ruddy background of the candle-lit shrine, the high monotones of the master, the statuesque figures of the mandarins reverently bowing—all form the nearest resemblance to cathedral worship to be found in China. Then is chanted the "Ode to Confucius," written on silk, and, with reverent gestures, the reader hurries down the open court to burn the silk in a tripod; the flames leap up; the ashes sink down; the dawn rushes across the sky; the mandarins go forth—the worship of Confucius is over.—Missionary Notices.