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Authors: Philip A. Kuhn
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jangled official nerves, how important a social phenomenon was
it by mid-Ch'ing times? One would predict. that population pressure
had begun to erode the economic base of the lay family in many
areas by the late 176os. Yet we have so little data on the underclass
that, beyond mere poverty, we know nothing systematic about their
social backgrounds. Begging as an alternative to starving, and mendicant clergy as a variety of beggar, are certainly nothing new in the
176os.46 Yet fear of sorcery fed not upon numbers but upon perceptions. In the idiom of bureaucratic control, Min O-yuan was
expressing anxiety about the uncontrolled movement of rootless
people. Was there a popular analogue to this anxiety? If so, it may
well have been expressed in the idiom of sorcery fear. Among the
public, one of several things may have been happening: either fear
of mendicant strangers was growing because there were more of them passing through communities; or public feelings about mendicants were changing, regardless of how many of them there were;
or both. Even without social changes of this sort, fear of strangers
was deeply rooted in popular religion, as I shall explain in Chapter 5.
Lay beggars. Nearly all writers on "beggars" begin by listing the
various "types" of beggars (the blind, the deformed, those who sang
or juggled for the market crowds, the local beggars, and the seasonal
outsiders). Certain traits seem to have been quite conventional (operatic airs sung only by beggars, for example, and the "professional
whine," common to street beggars) .41 It is now quite clear that a
substantial fraction of "clergy" by the i 76os was essentially a variety
of beggar. Clerical dress and behavior signaled a mendicant role that
was publicly familiar and indeed respected, however objectionable it
may have been to officialdom. An eighteenth-century observer points
out that wealthy people who would disdain to give even a penny to
an ordinary beggar would empty their pockets into a monk's begging
bowl in hopes of gaining karma-credit in the afterlife.48 Certainly, lay
beggars bore a social stigma that clergy did not; their mere appearance (disgustingly filthy, hair matted, dressed in rags) contrasted with
the conventionally robed monks.49 Even so, the distinction between
monks and lay beggars was not crystal-clear in the public mind. It
was a long-standing custom in Peking to call ordinary beggars chiaohua-tzu, from mu-hua-a term that originally referred to the religiously sanctioned begging of Buddhist monks.50 Monkhood was
perhaps the most acceptable of a number of specialized, conventional
roles for beggars. We may think of these roles as social templates,
already well established in the eighteenth century, to which increasing
numbers of people could cling as times got harder. That these templates still retained their power to shape behavior is perhaps the
essence of the eighteenth-century condition: those squeezed out by
the economic pressures of Ch'ing society could still find, in the world
of social symbols, acceptable paths to survival. A later age of social
breakdown would find such templates cracking under the pressure
of mass destitution.
To judge from undated evidence of a century or more later (presented by the folklorist Hsu K'o in his invaluable collection of Ch'ing
tales and social vignettes), beggars were well entrenched in various
ecological niches in local society. Some had customary jobs as warrantservers for county authorities. Some had worked out a seasonal
arrangement: beggars from northern Anhwei would collect in towns along the Chekiang-Kiangsu border every winter (the slack season in
their own villages), sustain themselves by begging until spring, then
return home. These seem to have been ordinary peasants who lacked
the by-employments to survive between crop seasons.'' But how
helpful is Hsu K'o's information (some of which must have been from
the late nineteenth century or even
it by mid-Ch'ing times? One would predict. that population pressure
had begun to erode the economic base of the lay family in many
areas by the late 176os. Yet we have so little data on the underclass
that, beyond mere poverty, we know nothing systematic about their
social backgrounds. Begging as an alternative to starving, and mendicant clergy as a variety of beggar, are certainly nothing new in the
176os.46 Yet fear of sorcery fed not upon numbers but upon perceptions. In the idiom of bureaucratic control, Min O-yuan was
expressing anxiety about the uncontrolled movement of rootless
people. Was there a popular analogue to this anxiety? If so, it may
well have been expressed in the idiom of sorcery fear. Among the
public, one of several things may have been happening: either fear
of mendicant strangers was growing because there were more of them passing through communities; or public feelings about mendicants were changing, regardless of how many of them there were;
or both. Even without social changes of this sort, fear of strangers
was deeply rooted in popular religion, as I shall explain in Chapter 5.
Lay beggars. Nearly all writers on "beggars" begin by listing the
various "types" of beggars (the blind, the deformed, those who sang
or juggled for the market crowds, the local beggars, and the seasonal
outsiders). Certain traits seem to have been quite conventional (operatic airs sung only by beggars, for example, and the "professional
whine," common to street beggars) .41 It is now quite clear that a
substantial fraction of "clergy" by the i 76os was essentially a variety
of beggar. Clerical dress and behavior signaled a mendicant role that
was publicly familiar and indeed respected, however objectionable it
may have been to officialdom. An eighteenth-century observer points
out that wealthy people who would disdain to give even a penny to
an ordinary beggar would empty their pockets into a monk's begging
bowl in hopes of gaining karma-credit in the afterlife.48 Certainly, lay
beggars bore a social stigma that clergy did not; their mere appearance (disgustingly filthy, hair matted, dressed in rags) contrasted with
the conventionally robed monks.49 Even so, the distinction between
monks and lay beggars was not crystal-clear in the public mind. It
was a long-standing custom in Peking to call ordinary beggars chiaohua-tzu, from mu-hua-a term that originally referred to the religiously sanctioned begging of Buddhist monks.50 Monkhood was
perhaps the most acceptable of a number of specialized, conventional
roles for beggars. We may think of these roles as social templates,
already well established in the eighteenth century, to which increasing
numbers of people could cling as times got harder. That these templates still retained their power to shape behavior is perhaps the
essence of the eighteenth-century condition: those squeezed out by
the economic pressures of Ch'ing society could still find, in the world
of social symbols, acceptable paths to survival. A later age of social
breakdown would find such templates cracking under the pressure
of mass destitution.
To judge from undated evidence of a century or more later (presented by the folklorist Hsu K'o in his invaluable collection of Ch'ing
tales and social vignettes), beggars were well entrenched in various
ecological niches in local society. Some had customary jobs as warrantservers for county authorities. Some had worked out a seasonal
arrangement: beggars from northern Anhwei would collect in towns along the Chekiang-Kiangsu border every winter (the slack season in
their own villages), sustain themselves by begging until spring, then
return home. These seem to have been ordinary peasants who lacked
the by-employments to survive between crop seasons.'' But how
helpful is Hsu K'o's information (some of which must have been from
the late nineteenth century or even
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