Read Online Soulstealers: The Chinese Sorcery Scare of 1768 by Philip A. Kuhn - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip A. Kuhn
Ads: Link
more people than ever (men like the
"Taoist," Li Ying) were on the roads, without livelihood. The "clergy"
was evidently absorbing myriads of them into socially sanctioned (if
not officially licensed) mendicant lives.
To the bureaucratic mind, wandering beggars of any sort threatened public security. People without homes and families were people
out of control.42 The old methods of registering and controlling the
clergy were no longer enough, wrote Min 0-yuan, provincial treasurer of Hupei, at the height of the queue-clipping crisis.43 There
was now a new threat in the form of thousands of vagrant monks and
priests, some only marginally clerical, who formed a breeding ground
for sedition and lawlessness. The statutory controls were only useful
for settled clergy living within a jurisdiction. But now there were
thousands of "roving clergy" (yu fang seng-tao) who wandered beyond
the law's reach. "They use the excuse of `worshiping at famous mountains' or `looking for masters or friends,' going northward in the
evening and southward at dawn, and their tracks are impossible to
trace." They lodge at temples that are known for putting up such
persons, places they call "hanging your sack" (kua-t'a). There, traitors,
bandits, forgers, and imposters take their ease, "reclining on straw
pallets and drinking the water, borrowing the shade and concealing
themselves." Every year, each province is alerted to arrest several
thousand wanted criminals, but many cannot be found. Most have
adopted clerical dress, dropped out of sight, and moved elsewhere.
That is why "in major cases of sorcery-books and sorcery-tales," there
is invariably a "traitor-monk or heterodox Taoist" in the
background, "deluding good subjects." Because they have no fixed
abode, it is impossible to track them down.
Min's view of the clergy underclass turned on the idea that many
"monks" and "priests" were not "really" clergy at all, but rogues who
took clerical garb to evade the law. Although most clerics caught up
in the queue-clipping panic were indeed not regularly ordained,
many were in that intermediate stratum of tonsured novices, who
will be discussed further in Chapter 5. In any case, they were more like beggars than criminals. Some (like Chii-ch'eng of Hsiao-shan or
Li Ying of Ting-chou) were lone survivors of family tragedies. From
an official point of view, however, any uncontrolled movement of
persons was dangerous. Min now proposed new rules by which no
cleric could be affiliated with a temple or monastery outside his own
jurisdiction, nor could he travel more than thirty miles from such a
place. If he did, officials could arrest and investigate him for "any
criminal activity." Even if no criminality were found, he would be
punished with a beating, according to that marvelous catch-all provision in the Ch'ing Code, "Doing inappropriate things, heavy punishment" (pu-ying [wei], chung; statute 386), and forced to return to lay
life. Temples and monasteries were to send all such wanderers away
and tender a bond to the authorities that none was being harbored.
(The emperor replied, "This matter is worth Our concern." )44
Such warnings struck a sensitive nerve in the royal mind. Hungli's
own suspicion of the Buddhist clergy (as distinct from his ostentatious
patronage of Buddhism as such) was deeply ingrained. It was not
just that monks and their movements were hard for the civil authorities to regulate. Hungli's attitude reflected a more general Confucian
disdain for men who "willingly shaved their heads to become monks
and even failed to care for their parents, wives, and children, and
whose activities are accordingly suspicious," as he expressed himself
on another occasion.45 In this respect, monks were comparable to the
despised eunuchs, who forsook their principal filial obligation, to
have progeny, for the sake of employment.
If Min's description of a floating clerical underclass indicates more
than
"Taoist," Li Ying) were on the roads, without livelihood. The "clergy"
was evidently absorbing myriads of them into socially sanctioned (if
not officially licensed) mendicant lives.
To the bureaucratic mind, wandering beggars of any sort threatened public security. People without homes and families were people
out of control.42 The old methods of registering and controlling the
clergy were no longer enough, wrote Min 0-yuan, provincial treasurer of Hupei, at the height of the queue-clipping crisis.43 There
was now a new threat in the form of thousands of vagrant monks and
priests, some only marginally clerical, who formed a breeding ground
for sedition and lawlessness. The statutory controls were only useful
for settled clergy living within a jurisdiction. But now there were
thousands of "roving clergy" (yu fang seng-tao) who wandered beyond
the law's reach. "They use the excuse of `worshiping at famous mountains' or `looking for masters or friends,' going northward in the
evening and southward at dawn, and their tracks are impossible to
trace." They lodge at temples that are known for putting up such
persons, places they call "hanging your sack" (kua-t'a). There, traitors,
bandits, forgers, and imposters take their ease, "reclining on straw
pallets and drinking the water, borrowing the shade and concealing
themselves." Every year, each province is alerted to arrest several
thousand wanted criminals, but many cannot be found. Most have
adopted clerical dress, dropped out of sight, and moved elsewhere.
That is why "in major cases of sorcery-books and sorcery-tales," there
is invariably a "traitor-monk or heterodox Taoist" in the
background, "deluding good subjects." Because they have no fixed
abode, it is impossible to track them down.
Min's view of the clergy underclass turned on the idea that many
"monks" and "priests" were not "really" clergy at all, but rogues who
took clerical garb to evade the law. Although most clerics caught up
in the queue-clipping panic were indeed not regularly ordained,
many were in that intermediate stratum of tonsured novices, who
will be discussed further in Chapter 5. In any case, they were more like beggars than criminals. Some (like Chii-ch'eng of Hsiao-shan or
Li Ying of Ting-chou) were lone survivors of family tragedies. From
an official point of view, however, any uncontrolled movement of
persons was dangerous. Min now proposed new rules by which no
cleric could be affiliated with a temple or monastery outside his own
jurisdiction, nor could he travel more than thirty miles from such a
place. If he did, officials could arrest and investigate him for "any
criminal activity." Even if no criminality were found, he would be
punished with a beating, according to that marvelous catch-all provision in the Ch'ing Code, "Doing inappropriate things, heavy punishment" (pu-ying [wei], chung; statute 386), and forced to return to lay
life. Temples and monasteries were to send all such wanderers away
and tender a bond to the authorities that none was being harbored.
(The emperor replied, "This matter is worth Our concern." )44
Such warnings struck a sensitive nerve in the royal mind. Hungli's
own suspicion of the Buddhist clergy (as distinct from his ostentatious
patronage of Buddhism as such) was deeply ingrained. It was not
just that monks and their movements were hard for the civil authorities to regulate. Hungli's attitude reflected a more general Confucian
disdain for men who "willingly shaved their heads to become monks
and even failed to care for their parents, wives, and children, and
whose activities are accordingly suspicious," as he expressed himself
on another occasion.45 In this respect, monks were comparable to the
despised eunuchs, who forsook their principal filial obligation, to
have progeny, for the sake of employment.
If Min's description of a floating clerical underclass indicates more
than
Similar Books
