The Sayings of Confucius A New Translation of the Greater Part of the Confucian Analects · Confucius
PERSONALIA
In his moments of leisure, the Master's manner was uniformly cheerful and smiling. If the Master happened to be dining beside one who was in mourning for his parents, he never ate a full meal. He never sang on any day in the course of which he had been bewailing a death. The Master would never talk about prodigies, feats of strength, crime, or supernatural beings.[1] The Master made four things the subject of his teaching: a knowledge of literature and the arts, conduct, conscientiousness and truthfulness.[2] The Master fished with a line but not with a net. When he went out with bow and arrow, he only shot at birds on the wing. If the Master happened to be with singers, and they sang a piece well, he would get them to repeat it, when he would also join in the song himself. The Master was affable, yet grave; stern, but not fierce; attentive in his behaviour, and yet calm. The Master seldom spoke of money-making, of the laws of Providence, or of moral virtue.[3] There were four words of which the Master barred the use: he would have no "shall's," no "must's," no "certainly's," no "I's".[4] Whenever the Master saw a person in mourning, or in official robes, or one who was blind, he would at once rise from his seat, even though the other were his junior; or if he passed them in the street, he would quicken his step.[5]
Once when the Master was lying seriously ill, Tzŭ Lu got the disciples to act the part of Ministers of State.[6] In an interval of his sickness, Confucius said: What a long time Yu has been keeping up this imposture! In pretending to have ministers attendant on me when I have none, whom am I deceiving? Am I deceiving God? But apart from that, is it not better that I should breathe my last in the arms of my disciples, than that I should die in the midst of officials? And after all, though I may not be accorded the honour of a public funeral, I am not dying out on the high road. The Master wished to settle among the nine eastern tribes. Some one said: How can you? They are savages.--The Master replied: If a higher type of man dwelt in their midst, how could their savage condition last? Confucius in his native village was simple and unassuming. He gave the impression of being no great speaker. In the ancestral temple and at Court he spoke fluently, but with a certain reserve. At Court, he spoke to the ministers of lower rank with frankness and affability. To those of higher rank he spoke quietly, but with decision. In the presence of his Sovereign, he seemed full of awe, but at the same time grave and collected.
When employed by the Prince in the reception of distinguished visitors, his expression would change, and his legs seemed to bend under him. Standing in the presence of the visitors, he saluted them with clasped hands, turning about from right to left, and keeping the skirt of his robe properly adjusted, back and front. He then hastened forward with arms extended like the wings of a bird. When a visitor departed, he would report in that sense to the Prince, saying: "The visitor is not looking back."[7] When he entered the gate of the palace, he seemed to bend his body as though the gate were not large enough to let him pass. He did not stand in the middle of the doorway, nor in passing through did he set foot on the threshold. When he passed the Prince's throne, his expression seemed to change, his legs seemed to bend under him, and words seemed to fail him. Holding up his robe with both hands, he ascended the dais, his body slightly bent, and holding his breath as though he dared not breathe. When he came out from his audience and had descended the first step, his countenance lost its anxious expression, and he looked serene and happy. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he hastened away with his arms outstretched like wings; but when he got back to his place, he still seemed full of awe.
He carried the Prince's regalia with body slightly bent, as though he could hardly support its weight; he raised it to the height of his head, and lowered it again to the height of his chest. His countenance indicated nervousness, and he dragged his feet as though something held them to the ground. In offering presents as an ambassador, his appearance was sedate. At a private audience, he wore a pleased look. He would not eat meat that was clumsily cut, or served without its proper sauce. Although there might be an abundance of meat, he never let it exceed in quantity the vegetable food. In wine alone he laid down for himself no particular limit, but he never reached the stage of intoxication. He took ginger at every meal. He did not eat much. When eating, he did not converse; when in bed, he did not speak. Even though he had nothing but coarse rice and vegetable soup, he would always reverently offer some to the ancestral spirits. He would not sit on a mat[8] that was placed awry. On one occasion, Chi K‘ang Tzŭ having sent him some medicine, he bowed as he received it, saying: Not being familiar with this drug, I would not venture to try it. His stables having been burnt down, the Master on his return from the Court said: Has any one been hurt?--He did not ask about the horses.[9]
If the Prince sent him a present of cooked meat, he would sit down to taste it on a properly placed mat. If the Prince sent him a present of raw meat, he would have it cooked and offer it in sacrifice. If the Prince sent him a live animal, he would keep it alive. When the Prince summoned him to his presence, he would go on foot without waiting for his carriage. If any of his friends died who was without a home or relations, he would say: I will see to the funeral. In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. In his home life, his manner was not too formal. At the sight of a person in mourning, though it might be an intimate acquaintance, he would always look grave. On meeting an official in uniform, or a blind man, however ragged, he would always show him some mark of respect. When a rich banquet was set before him, he would show his appreciation in his looks, and rise to return thanks. He would change countenance at a thunderclap or a sudden squall of wind. When in his carriage, he would not look behind him, talk rapidly, or point with his finger.[10] Duke Ling of Wei asked Confucius about the disposition of troops in warfare. Confucius answered: I know something about the arts of peace,[11] but I have never studied the art of war. And on the morrow he departed. But when he came to the State of Ch‘ên, he was cut off from supplies,[12] and his followers were so enfeebled that they could hardly stand. Tzŭ Lu indignantly sought the Master's presence, saying: Is it for the princely man to feel the pinch of privation?--The Master replied: Assuredly privation may come his way, but it is only the baser type of man who under it grows demoralised and reckless.
Mien, a blind musician,[13] having called on Confucius, the Master said to him when he came to a flight of steps: "Here are the steps"; and when he came to the mat which was spread for him: "Here is your mat." When all the visitors were seated, the Master told him who they were, saying: So-and-so is sitting here, so-and-so is sitting there. After Mien had gone, Tzŭ Chang asked, saying: Is it the proper thing to speak thus to a musician?--The Master replied: Assuredly it is right to give this help to a blind man. The people of Ch‘i sent a band of singing-girls as a present to the Duke of Lu, and Chi Huan Tzŭ accepted the gift. For three days after that no Court was held, and Confucius departed.[14] [1] Under these circumstances, it is easy to imagine how edified he would be by the modern daily press, which subsists almost entirely on these very topics. [2] I am unable to improve on this rendering, which is borrowed from Mr. Ku Hung-ming. [3] This statement--at least as regards moral virtue (jên)-- seems hopelessly at variance with the evidence of the Analects. Perhaps no more is meant than that he was unwilling to dogmatise on such a delicate subject. On p. 72, for instance, he refuses to judge whether certain disciples have true moral virtue or not.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.