Such electronic temptations—no respecters of international boundaries have also found their marks on this island. On the first day of the island-wide 1984 competitive college entrance examinations, unidentified electronic waves were detected in the vicinity of a hall where students were taking a history test. Six students were later found to be carrying receiving devices.
Cheating at exams is no electronic-age miracle. But it is an age-old, if hardly time-honored practice. In ancient China, cribbing, hiring an imposter, exchanging exam papers, bribing monitors or graders, etc. all drew penalties ranging from at least 30 to several hundred strokes with a cane ... to being put to death. Since the examinations were the only door for most ancient Chinese to officialdom in the empire, and since the competition was horrific, cheating became an all too common occurrence.
More than one thousand years since the dawn of the Tang Dynasty (618-907) and the consecration of the ancients' concept that only very learned men were worthy of great respect and should thereby be honored by access to officialdom, reverence for education remains firmly rooted in the unbroken Chinese culture which reigns on this island.
So it is that every year, the first two days of July (beginning this year, the first three days) decide the fates of approximately one hundred thousand Taiwan high school graduates, including many who have previously failed. And they all wish to jump over the narrow dragon gate!
Besides the college entrance examinations, public examinations on the island test kingdergarteners, middle school students, and students at graduate schools, not to mention the examinations for numerous government posts. If we say that an educated person here has to endure countless such "battles" during his lifetime, it is no exaggeration at all.
All this leads right back to the kai ke chu shih (enlisting talent through the civil examination system). It began in the Tang Dynasty and continued over the centuries through the Sung (960-1279), Yuan (1271-1368), and Ming (1368-1644) Dynasties, ending only in the last of the dynasties—the Ching (1644-1911).
Actually, if less solid historical references in Shang Shu (The Book of History), Chou Li (The Institutes of Chou), and Li Chi (The Book of Rites) can be credited, the origin of China's merit system for selection of officials was some centuries before the Christian era, long before the Tang Dynasty.
We do know that during the 15th reigning year (165 B.C.) of Emperor Wen of the Han Dynasty, a system of recommendation and examination stressing the importance of moral excellence was established. The successful candidates were classified into hsien liang (virtuous) and fang cheng (irreproachable), and could now dare to ad- monish the Emperor. Oral and written examinations were administered by the Emperor himself to ascertain the candidates' views on state affairs.
In 134 B.C., during the reign of Emperor Wu, each principality was ordered to select a hsiao lien (a filial, pious, and incorruptible person) to be as signed without examination to some specific public service. But by the ending of the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220), such selections-on the basis of virtue alone-had become subject to major hypocritical abuses. The chiu pin chung cheng (nine-grade unbiased system) was substituted, continuing in force until about 600 A.D.
For some time, this nine-grade system of selecting civil officials from among able scholars worked very well. But by about 400 A.D., the selections had fallen under the control of the nobility and certain powerful families; the common people had little opportunity to attain the more important posts.
Renovation was inevitable, but it was not until the Sui Dynasty (581-618) that an open, competitive examination system was established. The civil service examination system reached its application fulfillment during the Tang Dynasty and was further perfected during the Sung Dynasty.
The degree of chin shih (literally meaning a promotion to a high position having a high salary) was first conferred at some point in the time period 605-617. However, sons of merchants, artisans, barbers, actors, and prostitutes were specifically prohibited from pursuing this highest honor.
During the Tang Dynasty, the final examination comprised five essays on current events, essays on the Confucian classics and history, and after 681 A.D., an original poem and a composition in rhythmic prose (called fu).
In the Tang Dynasty, the system of recommendation co-existed with the competitive examination system. Descendants of those who had rendered distinguished service to the nation received degrees. The Dynasty attached much importance to one's family background, and in addition to examination results, such factors as the candidate's academic achievements and evaluations by other people were also decisive. As a result, the chief examiner played a crucial role. Soon enough the path via the "back door" was very well tried. The "very fair" examination system was actually much tainted by political favoritism and nepotism.
Since the very beginning of their Dynasty, the Sung emperors had attached great importance to civil administration. Their prime ministers were all literati, breaking with the aristocratic primacy during previous dynasties, of noble families of power and influence. The imperial examination system, in existence since the Tang Dynasty, was expanded and improved. Either Emperor Taizu (960-975) or Emperor Taizung (976-997) initiated the system in which the Emperor himself would preside over the final phase of the examination. Those who passed, the chin shih, would kneel thrice to the Emperor, touching the ground nine times with their foreheads; they called themselves "Students of the Emperor." Thus there came into being a class of literati among the officialdom, a part of the centralized bureaucratic system and a direct result of the Emperor's personal intervention in the examination system. From the 10th to the 19th Century, this new class occupied a leading position in society.
Alien rulers of the Liao (916-1125), Chin (1115-1234), and Yuan dynastic periods at first despised the examination system, but later adopted it for the sole purpose of trying to win the support of the Han people. Especially during the Chin and Yuan Dynasties, important adaptations were made to the system. The alien rulers translated Han books into their own languages so that several years later, their best scholars would be able to compete with Han ethnic candidates. They wished thus to prove that they were equally capable—qualified to rule the ancient land.
In the development of the Chinese civil service examination system, the Ming and Ching Dynasties adopted unprecedentedly strict controls. However, drawbacks were also numerous. Since the two dynasties' examination systems were very similar, an analysis of the Ching system provides a complete and clear picture of both.
During the Ching Dynasty, the civil service examination system involved several levels, included the tung shih (literally an exam for children-actually an exam at the bottom or district level), the hsiang shih (an exam held at the provincial capital), the hui shih (an exam held at the national capital), and the tien shih (the exam held in the Emperor's palace). One who passed the exam at district was known as a hsiu tsai; at the nation al capital, a kung shih; and at the palace, a chin shih. These honors may be said to correspond roughly to the modern B.A., M.A., and Ph.D. degrees.
The examinations at district level were held annually. The candidates, no matter how old or young, were referred to as tung sheng (child students). Since there was no age limit, some were actually very young and very old.
In Ru Lin Wai Shih (The Scholars), a satirical novel by Wu Ching-tzu of the early Ching Dynasty lampooning Chinese scholars of the late Ming and early Ching Dynasties, one character, Fan Chin, is a tung sheng. He first sat for the examination when he was 20, but failed again and again for more than 30 years.
The year Fan Chin turned 54, he went to Kwangchow to take the exam. Chou Chin, the examiner, calling the roll, found the old candidate in a pitiable state—sallow and emaciated, beard turned white, wearing a wornout felt hat. Chou went over the old man's examination paper carefully three times. The composition was not bad, and he marked it for special attention with small red circles and then gave him a first.
So Fan passed the tung shih and became a hsiu tsai, only to become also, "a toad lusting after a swan's flesh"—highly ambitious. Deceiving his father in-law, he made a trip to the provincial capital to take the higher exam, and to everyone's surprise, this old, poor man placed seventh. However, when the announcement of the result reached his home, Fan's uproariously happy laughter caused him to choke. He fell on his back and could never again get up.
According to statistics from old imperial files of the National Palace Museum in Taipei, from the 35th year (1770) to the 59th year (1794) of Emperor Chienlung, 37 hsiu tsai in their 90s passed the exams at provincial level and became chu jen—one of them, Li Wei of Hsingan County, Kianghsi Province, was 99 years old. Another successful candidate, Yang Hsing-yao of Huaining County, Anhui Province, was only 11. According to the evidence of the files, the civil exam was a true thoroughfare to official careers for both young and old.
The hall for the examination at district was called the kao peng (exam shed). An outer gate was set in a surrounding stockade at the southernmost end of the complex. A spacious court yard was at its center. The main gate, in the north of the courtyard, was called the lung men (dragon gate), and gave access to another courtyard where the candidates waited for the roll to be called. Further north were three big halls, one in the center used as a passage way, the western hall for examiners. Further back were rows of hao she (exam dormitories).
Those who passed the district exam received the degree of hsiu tsai and were thenceforth exempt from corvee labor and tax. On meeting local government officials, hsiu tsai were not compelled to kneel down as were the common people. And unless they transgressed scholarly honor, they could not be punished by flogging.
Since the new hsiu tsai were now a strata of the intelligentsia and starting to have real social standing in the community, the main gates of their residences whose dimensions were regulated by the state-were three inches taller than the gates of the common people. Most of the new dignitaries would actually live on teaching, their meager earnings allowing only a frugal existence for the rest of their lives.
The hsiang shih, at the provincial capital, was the most complicated and most important link in the civil service examination system. A much larger scale operation, the regular hsiang shih was staged triennially, and special hsiang shih were offered on auspicious national occasions such as imperial weddings.
During the 268 ruling years of the Ching Dynasty, examinations for the chu jen degree (conferred on those who passed the hsiang shih) were held 112 times (86 regular exams and 26 special occasion exams). Since the regular hsiang shih was always held in August, the exam also picked up the name chiu wei (autumn exam hall); it was held over three days—the ninth, twelfth, and fifteenth of the month.
The total successful chu jen candidates for each exam numbered 1,290 during the Ching Dynasty.
The allowable size of the hsiang shih to be staged in each province was based on the sum of land tax collected, the population, and the demonstrated popular interest in learning in the province.
Kung yuan was the name given the exam premises in the provincial capital—a hall complex including several thousand exam dorm cubicles and offices for the examination officials. All the kung yuan were built in the same general style, though some were larger and some smaller, depending on the regular number of candidates.
Each kung yuan was built facing south. A typical large specimen-the one for Kwangtung Province—was in three parts.
The first part comprised the areas of the two ku lou (drum towers), the tou men (first gate), and the yi men (side gate). The latter two led to passageways, each one opening on a courtyard. Behind the yi men was the lung men, the dragon gate, the most important gate within the complex. A spacious courtyard behind the dragon gate surrounded a three-story mingyuan building, a high structure serving as a watchtower for the invigilators. Altogether, eight thousand exam dorm spaces lined the two sides from the first gate to the end of the courtyard behind the dragon gate. Even in a small province, the number of dorm spaces reached three to four thousand. If the number of candidates exceeded the dorm spaces, makeshift shelters would be erected to meet the demand.
The second part of the complex was the area called the wai lien (outer curtain) -offices and dorms for the invigilators, dispatchers, and those responsible for collecting, sealing, and the operation known as teng lu —copying the examination papers before sending them to officials in charge under controls designed to assure their secrecy and pre venting favoritism. Watchtowers, store houses, and kitchens were also located in this area.
The third part of the complex, the nei lien (inside curtain), included offices in which the chief examiners went over the exam papers, dorms for dispatchers, and rooms for engraving and printing the exams.
During the three exam days, troops guarded the complex, and inspection officials made their rounds day and night to prevent copies of answers from being circulated.
Participants were allowed to bring writing materials, clothes and quilts, cooking utensils, food (usually rice cakes, flapjacks, steamed bread, pickles, salted eggs, ham, etc.), and other personal objects with them to the dormitory. After a body search, formal roll call, and distribution of the exam papers, each participant entered his own dorm cubicle. The main entrances to the dorm areas were closed for the following three days, until the end of the exam.
Each dorm cubicle, roofed with tiles and separated by brick walls from its fellows, was open to the south, screened only by a piece of oilcloth brought by the participant to ward off the wind and rain. Each cubicle was 2.5 meters high, 1.2 meters wide, and 1.5 meters deep. Several dozen centimeters and one meter off the ground—on two opposing brick walls (the east and west walls), two chiseled grooves received two planks. During the day, the candidate sat on the lower plank and wrote on the upper one. At night, the upper plank was moved down to make a bed with the lower plank. A small recess in the north wall held an oil lamp and other miscellaneous objects.
Originally, the exam hall was responsible for providing meals for the participants. However, these poorly prepared meals merely encouraged the candidates to cook for themselves. Thus, during the day, the scorching sun (in the middle of August) and fire from the stove made the cubicles incredibly hot. At night; the oil cloth screens provided only flimsy shelter from wind and rain. A long ditch in front, during rainy days, helped form lanes of mud along the dorm rows. A public lavatory at each end of each lane made nearby downwind dorms uninviting. The participants also had to put up with mosquitos and other insects. The ordeal for the candidates was more than academic.
The exam itself centered on the Chinese classics, and the candidates now had to elaborate on abstruse commentaries by the sages and renowned men of virtue, and therein to dissect their moral character. They answered questions and wrote themes testing their abilities to sensibly analyze important ancient and current events.
(In contrast, the current competitive college entrance examinations cover such subjects as mathematics, Chinese, English, and Dr. Sun Yat-sen's principles of government. Candidates in the sciences and engineering have questions on physics and chemistry. Those in the humanities and social sciences need to respond to questions on history and geography, and candidates in medicine, physical education, and biology answer additional questions on biology).
The hui shih exam occurred every third February in the national capital. All chu jen were qualified to go to the Ministry of Rites and Education and enter their names for the hui shih, except for incumbent county magistrates and chu jen who had switched to teaching; they were barred from taking part in the exam.
Originally, chu jen of each province were provided with public transportation to the national capital to take part in the exam. Later, they were given traveling expenses according to the distance.
The exam hall compound for the hui shih was on a magnificent scale, though the setup was otherwise similar to the facilities for the hsiang shih. Six to seven thousand chu jen would gather for the exam at the national capital. Like the hsiang shih, the hui shih took three days - the ninth, twelfth, and fifteenth day of the month. Questions for this exam were composed and sealed by the Emperor and then brought in both hands by the prefect of Shuntien Prefecture in Peking to the exam hall. The contents of the exam and procedures for sealing candidates' names on their exam papers, for checking the exam papers, and for announcing the results were similar to those for the hsiang shih.
The results were published on the fifteenth day of April at the Ministry of Rites and Education, and kung shih degrees were conferred on those who passed. A second test would then be held at the Paoho Palace Hall, with only those from the first exam who had placed in the first three grades qualified to take part. This tien shih exam was presided over by the Emperor himself.
During the Ching Dynasty, the tien shih was held on the 22nd day of the fourth lunar month at the Paoho Palace Hall. Before the reign of Emperor Chia-ching (1796-1820), the tien shih was an impressive and solemn occasion. The new kung shih (successful candidates at the exams in the national capital), in formal dress, stood in two lines. Princes, nobles, generals, and ministers were present inside and outside the palace hall. When the Emperor arrived, music was played and firecrackers were set off. The candidates then knelt three times, touching their heads to the ground nine times, and began to answer questions.
Inside this palace hall, besides a throne for the Emperor, there were no other seats. Even the princes, nobles, generals, and ministers responsible for the invigilation sat on the floor. Originally, the candidates were given a long, narrow, 30 cm high table (like the one used for playing the zither) on which to write the answers to the questions; the candidates sat with legs crossed. Later, for the sake of comfort, they purchased small, folding wooden boxes in the market, the boxes containing writing materials and emptied, serving as stools. Use of these boxes became an implicit agreement between the candidates and the court.
The palace hall was high and spacious, but there were areas too dark for the candidates to read the questions (it was established practice that candidates were not allowed to use candles). Since regulations arranging seats had long ago been abolished and candidates could sit where they liked, the favorite areas were along the well-illuminated corridor. But there was an exchange. The corridor was open to the wind and rain. For so grand and solemn an imperial exam, the equipment was poorly appointed, and the candidates lacked basic creature comforts.
The folded exam answer sheet-seven layers of high quality paper-was exquisitely designed. Usually it was known as the ta chuan tzu (great examination paper). It was 40 cm long and 12 cm wide, and inside the front and back cover, held ten folded surfaces, each divided by several red vertical lines. In each such lined space, the candidate was allowed to write down only 24 characters.
The results of the exam were announced at Taiho Hall during the chuan lu (roll call ceremony) on the 25th day of the fourth lunar month. Those who passed the exam were ranked yi chia (first grade), erh chia (second grade), and san chia (third grade). The number of official openings for the first grade were three—chuang yuan (Number One Scholar), pang yen (Number Two Scholar), and tan hua (Number Three Scholar). Each received the chin shih degree.
More than one hundred in the second grade received the chin shih. The number of openings for the third grade was the largest; they also received chin shih.
The Number One Scholar was appointed an editor at the National Academy; the Number Two and Three Scholars, compilers at the Academy.
The chin shih examination was a national event. Successful candidates, usually just one or two in a thousand, were congratulated by multitudes. A feast in the imperial gardens was staged for them, and their names were carved in stone for the encouragement of future generations. The chin shih degree almost became a must for anyone aspiring to become a minister. It was both a stepping stone to official position and a badge of social distinction-the highest honor in the Empire.
During the Ching Dynasty, from the third year (1647) of Emperor Shunchih to the 30th year (1905) of Emperor Kwanghsu, a total of 112 tien shih took place in the palace hall; consequently, 112 Number One Scholars emerged.
Liu Chun-lin (the 112th Number One Scholar in the long history of the exam system, reportedly owed his success to plain good luck. Originally, Chu Ju-chen was named the Number One Scholar. However, the Empress Dowager Tzu Hsi (1835-1908) who dominated the Manchu court for 47 years toward the end of the Ching Dynasty, reportedly deemed Chu's name too feminine. At the time, Peking was suffering from a drought and lucky Liu's given name, Chun-lin (literally, the timely rains of spring) symbolized the end of such a natural disaster. As a result, Liu, ranked sixth in the beginning, became the last Number One Scholar of the last dynasty in Chinese history.
For the ancient Chinese scholar, the happiest moments of a lifetime were his wedding night and emerging successfully from a competitive examination. The latter honor not only caused him to be personally proud and elated, but when he returned home, he also brought honor to his ancestors and to living relatives.
An old Chinese saying goes: "No one ever shows concern for a poverty-stricken scholar during his ten years of hard study. But the moment he is announced as the Number One Scholar, he is known throughout the land." A Sung Dynasty poem depicts the Number One Scholar's triumphant return to his native heath in silken robes bestowed by the Emperor:
At the apex of five hundred candidates,
A commoner makes a sudden rise in
the world;
Robes of silk-brocade are heavy with
the grace of the Emperor,
The roster of successful candidates is
still fresh with Imperial ink.
With a dragon as his horse and a whip
of jade.
Flowers and willows swaying on the
way like flossy silk,
Don't be surprised at his early success;
Queens of beauty, of course, show
a particularly deep affection for
such young men.