of true patriotism and a strong and well-governed State has
been effectively prevented by making the individual solicitous
only for his own family and callously indifferent to the welfare
of his country. Confucianism therefore is China's weakness
as well as China's strength, the foe of all progress, the stagnation
of all life.

Confucianism, too, halts on the threshold of life's profoundest
problems. It has only dead maxims for the hour of deepest
need. It gives no vision of a future beyond the grave. It is
virtually an agnostic code of morals with some racial variations.
Wu Ting Fang, formerly Chinese Minister to the
United States, frankly declares that ``Confucianism is not a religion
in the practical sense of the word,'' and that ``Confucius
would be called an agnostic in these days.'' To ``the
Venerable Teacher'' himself, philosophy opened no door of
hope. Asked about this one day by a troubled inquirer, he
dismissed the question with the characteristic aphorism--
``Imperfectly acquainted with life, how can we know death?''
And there the myriad millions of Confucianists have dully
stood ever since, their faces towards the dead past, the future
a darkness out of which no voice comes.

But just because their illustrious guide took them to the
verge of the dark unknown and left them there, other teachers
came in to occupy the region left so invitingly open. Less
rational than Confucius, their success showed anew that the
human mind cannot rest in a spiritual vacuum and that if
faith does not enter, superstition will. Taoism and Buddhism
proceeded to people the air and the future with strange and