ABUNDANCE has success.
The king attains abundance.
Be not sad.
Be like the sun at midday. |
But the ancient commentary on this passage adds:
When the sun stands at midday, it
begins to set;
when the moon is full it begins to wane.
The fullness and
emptiness of heaven and earth
wane and wax in the course of time.
How much
truer is this of men, or of spirits and gods!
(SMC, 99) |
|
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Expansion to the West
Qianlong’s
most important achievement was the conquest and integration of huge
areas of western territory — the region later known as Xinjiang,
the “New Territories” — into the Chinese state. By
doing this he doubled the
territorial extent of China, finally ended the Zunghar troubles, and
fixed a firm western border with Russia to go along with the northern
borders settled by treaties at Nerchinsk and Kiakhta. The achievement
of this vast task took much time and money, and was linked (as it had
been in Kangxi’s and Yongzheng’s time) to the progress of
campaigns in
western Sichuan and northeastern Tibet. (SMC, 95) |
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Qing Confucianism
If
questioned, Qianlong would surely have insisted that he presided over a
Confucian system of government with Confucian means, and there were
many ways in which he could have justified such a claim: the works of
Confucius were regarded by the emperor and his officials as the key
repositories of ethical wisdom; the Confucian Classics
formed the basic curriculum in schools and were central to the
competitive state examination system; Confucian values of loyalty and
filial piety bonded officials to rulers and children to parents, just
as lectures on Confucian topics by scholars and officials in the
countryside were aimed at unifying the populace in obedience to the
state. (SMC, 100)
To
preserve the greatness of Chinese culture, Qianlong ... ordered a massive
compilation to be made of the most famous literary and historical works
of the past. Known as the Four Treasuries (siku quanshu)
from its four main components of classics, histories, philosophy, and
miscellaneous literary works, this was not just a selection of passages
on given topics, as was the Gujin tushu jicheng
(the encyclopedia brought forth under Qianlong’s grandfather and
father); rather, it was a complete anthology, with learned
introductions, into which the works selected were copied in their
entirety. The assembling of this collection, which ended up comprising
3,450 complete works and commentaries on 6,750 others, filled 36,000
manuscript volumes and took ten years to complete. It is one of the
great achievements of Chinese bibliography. (SMC, 98-9) |

Yet “Confucianism” was constantly changing as
accretions were adopted or swept away. In the eighteenth century, the
doctrine began to develop in new directions, paralleling changes in the
society and the economy. ... By the time of Qianlong, many scholars had
begun to find a new security not so much in particular texts as in a
methodology. This methodology, which they called kaozheng, has been usefully translated as “practicing evidential
research,” because it involved the meticulous evaluation of data
based on rigorous standards of precision. Kaozheng
scholars sought to get away from speculation altogether, to root their
studies in “hard facts.” They devoted their energies to
studies in linguistics, mathematics, astronomy, and geography,
confident that these would lead to greater certainty about what the
true words and intentions of China’s ancient sages had been and,
hence, to a better understanding of how to live in the present. ... Yan Ruoju [applied such] techniques to
collating the chronology and linguistic structures of part of the
Confucian classic of historical documents. His conclusions, though
circulated only in manuscript until the 1740s, had a shattering effect
on many intellectuals of the time. Yan proved, with carefully marshaled
evidence, that several sections of this major work (on which
generations of state examination questions had been based) were a later
forgery and thus did not deserve the reverence that scholars ascribed
to it.
By
the 1740s the examinations as a whole were coming under attack as
sterile exercises that failed to select the finest scholars for
office, and Yan’s work heightened this sense of state
Confucianism’s weakness. Social tensions further undermined
confidence in this system, for by the mid-eighteenth century the state
had not increased quotas of examination candidates proportionately to the rise in China’s population. The
consequent pressure on students and the difficulties of finding
employment even if one passed the exams brought frustration and
disillusionment to many members of the educated elite. (SMC, 100-1) More
and more often, magistrates kept the local taxation surpluses to
themselves rather than forwarding them to the provincial financial
commissioner. The old abuses of extra fees, payments, and illegal
surcharges crept back in. The Ministry of Revenue slowly instituted a
system by which every item of local expenditure had to be approved by
members of its Peking staff before the money could be spent. This led
to an avalanche of paper work and an absurd system in which trivial
matters were held up for years and important ones never got done at
all. One Ministry of Revenue document of this time from the capital
province of Hebei shows that provincial officials had to clear such
items as 48 taels to pay some guards on a bridge, 105 taels for
sailors’ wages, and 12 taels as pension allowance for two
widows. (SMC, 97) | |

Tale of Two Novels
“Truth Becomes Fiction When the Fiction’s True”
Wu Jingzi satirized the 18th-century literati in a realistic masterpiece, Rulin waishi (c. 1750; “Unofficial History of the Literati”; Eng. trans. The Scholars),
55 chapters loosely strung together in the manner of a picaresque
romance. Unlike Pu Songling, whom he far surpassed in both narration and
characterization, he adopted the vernacular as his sole medium for
fiction writing. Better known and more widely read was Cao Zhan’s Hongloumeng (Dream of the Red Chamber),
a novel of a love triangle and the fall of a great family, also written
in the vernacular and the first outstanding piece of Chinese fiction
with a tragic ending. Because its lengthy descriptions of poetry
contests, which interrupt the narrative, may seem tiresome, especially
to non-Chinese readers, they have been largely deleted in Western
translations. Nevertheless, some Western critics have considered it one
of the world’s finest novels. (britannica.com)
The Scholars
Rulin Waishi
The Scholars (Rulin waishi)
was probably written between 1740 and 1750. An example of the mode of
satirical realism in Chinese literature, the novel captures the moods
and tensions of everyday life in Qing China. Like the contemporaneous
works of Henry Fielding, The Scholars provides a witty portrait of the pretensions and hypocrisies of society.
The author, Wu Jingzi (1701-1754), was the son of a
noted family from Anhui. Despite repeated attempts for higher
achievements, he succeeded only in obtaining the xiucai,
the lowest examination title. In his own village Wu was apparently
denigrated as a ne’er-do-well. In 1733 he left for Nanjing where in his
middle and later years he lived in somewhat straitened circumstances,
in the company of other “failed” scholars.
Frustrated and disillusioned, Wu Jingzi drew upon his own
experiences and those of his friends to attack the suffocating
formalism and false social hierarchies produced by the examinations
system. In “Fan Jin Passes the Juren
Examination,” he shows how a scorned middle-aged scholar is drastically
elevated in the esteem of his neighbors when he passes the
provincial-level exam. This chapter of the novel is frequently
anthologized because of the clarity of its style and the powerful
swipes it takes at the myths and false ideals of the examination
system. (DC, 54) |
 |
Fan Jin Passes the Provincial Exam
Commissioner Zhou sat in the hall and watched the candidates crowding in. There were
young and old, handsome and homely, smart and shabby men among them.
The last candidate to enter was thin and sallow, had a grizzled beard,
and was wearing an old felt hat. Guangdong has a warm climate; still,
this was the twelfth month, and yet this candidate had on a linen gown
only, so he was shivering with cold as he took his paper and went to
his cell. Zhou Jin made a mental note of this before sealing up their
doors. ... “You are Fan Jin, aren’t you?” Kneeling, Fan Jin answered,
“Yes, Your Excellency.” “How old are you this year?” “I gave my age as
thirty. Actually I am fifty-four.” “How many times have you taken the
examination?” “I first went for it when I was twenty, and I have taken
it over twenty times since then.” “How is it you have never passed!” “My essays are too poor,” replied Fan Jin, “so none of the honorable
examiners will pass me.” “That may not be the only reason,” said
Commissioner Zhou. “Leave your paper here, and I will read it through
carefully.” ... Commissioner Zhou picked up Fan Jin’s essay and read
it through. But he was disappointed. ... Then he read Fan Jin’s paper
again. This time he gave a gasp of amazement. “Even I failed to
understand this paper the first two times I read it!” he exclaimed.
“But, after reading it for the third time, I realize it is the most
wonderful essay in the world — every word a
pearl. This shows how often bad examiners must have suppressed real
genius.” Hastily taking up his brush, he carefully drew three circles
on Fan Jin’s paper, marking it as first. ...
Wei
Haogu invited him to meet some other fellow candidates, and since it
was the year for the provincial examination they held a number of
literary meetings. Soon it was the end of the sixth month. Fan Jin’s
fellow candidates asked him to go with them to the provincial capital
for the examination, but he had no money for the journey. He went to
ask his father-in-law for help. Butcher
Hu spat in his face, and poured out a torrent of abuse. “Don’t be a
fool!” he roared. “Just passing one examination has turned your head
completely — you’re like a toad trying to swallow a swan! And I hear
that you scraped through not because of your essay, but because the
examiner pitied you for being so old. Now, like a fool, you want to
pass the higher examination and become an official. But do you know who
those officials are? They are all stars in heaven! ... You look like a
monkey, yet you want to become an official. Come off it! Next year I
shall find a teaching job for you with one of my friends so that you
can make a few taels of silver to support that old, never-dying mother
of yours and your wife — and it’s high time you did! ... The butcher
went on cursing at full blast, till Fan Jin’s head spun. When [Fan Jin] got home
again, he thought to himself, “Commissioner Zhou said that I showed
maturity. And, from ancient times till now, who ever passed the first
examination without going in for the second? I shan’t rest easy till
I’ve taken it.” So he asked his fellow candidates to help him, and went
to the city, without telling his father-in-law, to take the
examination. ... The day the results came out there was nothing to eat
in the house, and Fan Jin’s mother told him, “Take that hen of mine to
the market and sell it; then buy a few measures of rice to make gruel.
I’m faint with hunger.” ...
He had only been gone an hour or so, when
gongs sounded and three horsemen galloped up. They alighted, tethered
their horses to the shed, and called out, “Where is the honorable Mr.
Fan? We have come to congratulate him on passing the provincial
examination.” ...When
they reached Fan Jin’s house, Butcher Hu shouted: “The master is back!”
The old lady came out to greet them, and was overjoyed to find her son
no longer mad. The heralds, she told them, had already been sent off
with the money that Butcher Hu had brought. Fan Jin bowed to his mother
and thanked his father-in-law, making Butcher Hu so embarrassed that he
muttered, “That bit of money was nothing.”
After thanking the neighbor too, Fan Jin was just going to sit
down when a smart-looking retainer hurried in, holding a big red card,
and announced, “Mr. Zhang has come to pay his respects to the newly
successful Mr. Fan.” By
this time the sedan-chair was already at the door. Butcher Hu dived
into his daughter’s room and dared not come out, while the neighbors
scattered in all directions. Fan Jin went out to welcome the visitor,
who was one of the local gentry, and Mr. Zhang alighted from the chair
and came in. He was wearing an official’s gauze cap, sunflower-colored
gown, gilt belt, and black shoes. He was a provincial graduate and had
served as a magistrate in his time. ... After a glance round the room,
Mr. Zhang remarked, “Sir, you are certainly frugal.” He took from his
servant a packet of silver, and stated, “I have brought nothing to show
my respect except these fifty taels of silver, which I beg you to
accept. Your honorable home is not good enough for you, and it will not
be very convenient when you have many callers. I have an empty house on
the main street by the east gate, which has three courtyards with three
rooms in each. Although it is not big, it is quite clean. Allow me to
present it to you. When you move there, I can profit by your
instruction more easily.” Fan Jin declined many times, but Mr. Zhang
pressed him. ...
Then Fan Jin accepted the silver and expressed his
thanks. ... True enough, many people came to Fan Jin after that and
made him presents of land and shops; while some poor couples came to
serve him in return for his protection. In two or three months he had
manservants and maidservants, to say nothing of money and rice. When
Mr. Zhang came again to urge him, he moved into the new house; and for
three days he entertained guests with feasts and operas. (DC, 55-63)
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The Dream of the Red Chamber
Hongloumeng
The Dream of the Red Chamber,
China’s greatest novel, was written in the middle of Emperor Qianlong’s
reign. The author, Cao Xueqin, was descended from one of the Chinese
bannerman-bondservants who had enjoyed wealth and influence as a
favorite of Emperor Kangxi. But the Cao family, which had lived for
years on a grand scale in Nanjing, was subsequently punished for
dishonesty and incompetence by Emperor Yongzheng and suffered
confiscation of most of its holdings. ... The Dream of the Red Chamber — often known by its alternate title, The Story of the Stone —
presents a meticulous description of the Jias, a wealthy Chinese
extended family who occupy a series of linked mansions in an unnamed
big city that seems to have some elements of Nanjing and some of
Peking. Many aspects of the fictional Jia family’s story are clearly
drawn from the history of Kangxi’s reign: the Jias are aware of Manchu
culture and deportment, carry out confidential financial assignments
for the emperor, and have a favored relationship with the court, where
one of the Jia daughters is a secondary consort. ...
In simple outline, The Dream of the Red Chamber
is a love story. The fate of the novel’s hero, Jia Baoyu (“Jia of the
Precious Jade”), is closely entwined with the lives of two young women,
Lin Daiyu and Xue Baochai, each of whom bears one of the elements of
his name in her own. The three grow up in the Jia family mansions with
a host of other young companions, but their idyllic relations come to a
sharp end when Jia Baoyu, who deeply loves Lin Daiyu, is tricked by his
parents into marrying the wealthier and stronger Xue Baochai. This
deceit leads to Lin Daiyu’s death; at the novel’s end, Jia Baoyu —
although he has just passed the highest level of the state examinations
— leaves his young wife and the spacious grounds of his crumbling
estate to seek the pure life of a religious pilgrim. ... Beyond its plot, Dream
is a story of the quest for identity and for an understanding of the
human purpose on earth. The novel also explores the different levels of
reality and illusion that lie entwined inside so-called success and
failure. In Cao’s words in the introduction to the book, “From the Void
(which is Truth) we come to the contemplation of Form (which is
Illusion); from Form is engendered Passion; by communicating Passion we
enter again into Form; and from Form awake to the Void (which is
Truth).” ...
Although this suggests that Cao intends to disavow
“realism,” so rich are the texture and structure of the novel — which
is 120 chapters long and contains hundreds of vividly drawn characters
in addition to the main protagonists — that it can nevertheless be seen
as a kind of summation of the many elements of mid-Qing elite life,
including family structure, politics, economics, religion, aesthetics,
and sexuality. Even allowing for all the freedoms of the creative writer’s
imagination and for the rich allegorical overtones that pervade the
whole work, a look at each of these six categories can still tell us
much about the grandeur of Qing society in the mid-eighteenth century,
and about its underside. (SMC, 104-5)
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Family
In
the realm of family structure, Cao Xueqin points to the immense power
of the father over his children, especially on questions of their moral
growth and education. It is the Jia father who chooses the
schoolteacher for the local lineage school, who grills Jia Baoyu over
the progress of his studies in the Confucian classics, and who punishes
him for negligence or immorality. So terrible is the father’s anger
that the
mere mention of it reduces the son to abject fear. The mother, in this
context, is comparatively powerless; but the matriarch of the family,
Jia Baoyu’s grandmother, is shown as having great economic and
intellectual strength, and as being able to moderate family behavior on
the basis of the respect owed her for her advanced age and generational
seniority. Similarly,
generational hierarchies give Jia Baoyu prestige over younger siblings
or cousins, while forcing him to defer to those older than he.

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Political Power
In
political terms, the Jias are powerful not just because a member of
their family is a consort to the emperor, or because they hold high
office in the bureaucracy and undertake imperial commissions. Their
real power is local, in that they can use their prestige to bend the
judicial systems to their advantage. Any county magistrate knows better
than to prosecute one of the Jias or their friends — it would be more
than his job is worth. The family is thus subject to a kind of
corrupting influence, which leads its younger members to believe they
can break the law with impunity, even to the extent of hushing up
homicides in which family members have been involved. This political
power is potentially self-perpetuating, since the web of princely
friends and the patterns of examination success will propel the younger
men of the lineage into positions of influence, and the young women of
the family into powerful marriages.
Wealth
Economically,
the Jia family can call on resources that would be beyond the
imagination of most Chinese families. Their home is full of silver
bullion, bolts of silk, paintings, and scrolls. Their grounds and
buildings are spacious, and their coffers constantly replenished with
the rents brought by loyal bailiffs from urban holdings and from
far-off farms that the Jias own as absentee landlords. They indulge in
profitable business deals of great complexity, and gain additional
income from carrying out imperial commissions and acquiring exotic
goods from merchants who trade with Western countries. They also have
scores of indentured servants, male and female, who perform all duties
in the family compound and act as retainers whenever the Jias go
outside the walls.

In
matters of religion, the Jia family are as eclectic as Qing society
was. Central to the family’s prestige and sense of fulfillment is the
meticulous worship, in the Confucian tradition, of their own ancestors.
Funerals, like marriages, are occasions for intense, careful pomp and
ritual performance. But the Jias also call, as necessary, on priests of
the Daoist and Buddhist religions; they follow the prescribed
ceremonies of these religions, and even keep a group of young female
Buddhist novices in the purlieus of their home. The Jias practice both
Buddhist and Daoist rites in times of fear or illness, and on occasion
have priests conduct exorcisms to rid the family houses of harmful
spirits and malignant influences. ... |
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Aesthetics
Aesthetically,
the life in the Jia mansions is a joy, recalling the range and elegance
that typified elite life in the late Ming dynasty. The high level of
literacy of the young men and women makes possible an endless array of
poetry games and the exchange of erudite jokes and riddles. The
clothes, decor, gardens, and accouterments of the main characters are
exquisite; the preparation of tea, drinking of wine, and eating of an
evening meal are a triumphant blending of taste and artifice. Music and
drama are also an integral part of life for the Jias: the family keeps
its own troupe of actors and actresses who, whenever they are requested
to do so, perform scenes from now-classic works such as The Peony Pavilion, by the Ming dramatist Tang Xianzu.

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Sex
Finally,
in the realm of sexuality, there are few limitations on the behavior of
the Jia family members. ... Both men and women use their powers in the
family hierarchy to obtain their sexual pleasures. Jealousy goes with
adultery, love affairs lead to murders. Servants and bondslaves become
sexual objects and are powerless to protest except by flight or
suicide. Erotic paintings stir up great passions, as in the case of Jia
Baoyu’s initiation into sexual life. Jia Baoyu falls asleep after
viewing a sensual painting and has a complex yet graphic erotic dream.
His awakening is followed by a re-enactment of the dream experience,
but this time in literal terms with his own favored serving-maid.
Novice nuns or young male actors are also caught up in the
patterns of seduction and deceit, and even in the schoolroom, where
Confucian precepts are allegedly being internalized, homosexual
liaisons flourish among the young male scholars. (SMC, 105-7)
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In
public pronouncements, Qianlong prided himself on his sagacity as a
coordinator of military campaigns. ... But a campaign against Burma in
the 1760s was badly mismanaged, in sharp contrast to the efficacy with
which Wu Sangui had pursued the last Ming prince in the same region a
century before. And the brief war that China waged against Vietnam in
1788 and 1789 throws a sharp light on the inadequacies of Qing
policy. ... These long-range campaigns against foreign states were
conducted in an unsettling context of
indigenous rebellions, which began to occur in different parts of the
Chinese Empire during the later eighteenth century. ...
 Can one link
these outbreaks to specific Manchu policies that alienated the people?
The evidence is not clear on this, but it is certain that in the late
eighteenth century many Qing government institutions began to falter:
the emergency granaries were often empty, sections of the Grand Canal
silted up, regular banner troops behaved with incompetence or
brutality, efforts to stop ecologically dangerous land-reclamation
projects were abandoned, the bureaucracy was faction-ridden, and
corruption ran deep. (SMC, 109-12) |
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