1 This conversation is given in the Li Chi, II. Sect. II. Pt. ii, 1.

ever, as a thinker and writer that we have to do, and his rank in that capacity will appear from the examination of the Chung Yung in the section iv below. His place in the temples of the Sage has been that of one of his four assessors, since the year 1267. He ranks with Yen Hui, Tsang Shan, and Mencius, and bears the title of 'The Philosopher Tsze-sze, Transmitter of the Sage [1].'

SECTION III.

ITS INTEGRITY.

In the testimony of K'ung Fu, which has been adduced to prove the authorship of the Chung Yung, it is said that the Work consisted originally of forty-nine p'ien. From this statement it is argued by some, that the arrangement of it in thirty-three chapters, which originated with Chu Hsi, is wrong [2]; but this does not affect the question of integrity, and the character p'ien is so vague and indefinite, that we cannot affirm that K'ung Fu meant to tell us by it that Tsze-sze himself divided his Treatise into so many paragraphs or chapters.

It is on the entry in Liu Hsin's Catalogue, quoted section i,— 'Two p'ien of Observations on the Chung Yung,' that the integrity of the present Work is called in question. Yen Sze-ku, of the Tang dynasty, has a note on that entry to the effect:— 'There is now the Chung Yung in the Li Chi in one p'ien. But that is not the original Treatise here mentioned, but only a branch from it [3]' Wang Wei, a writer of the Ming dynasty, says:— 'Anciently, the Chung Yung consisted of two p'ien, as appears from the History of Literature of the Han dynasty, but in the Li Chi we have only one p'ien, which Chu Hsi, when he made his "Chapters and Sentences," divided into thirty-three chapters. The old Work in two p'ien is not to be met with now [4].' These views are based on a misinterpretation of the entry in the

1 ztll. 2 See the l, art. e. 3 Cvj,§Oe@g,D§g,y. 4 n,ejGg,~,b§O,@gw,ly,] @g,TQT,jgio.

Catalogue. It does not speak of two p'ien of the Chung Yung, but of two p'ien of Observations thereon. The Great Learning carries on its front the evidence of being incomplete, but the student will not easily believe that the Doctrine of the Mean is so. I see no reason for calling its integrity in question, and no necessity therefore to recur to the ingenious device employed in the edition of the five ching published by the imperial authority of K'ang Hsi, to get over the difficulty which Wang Wei supposes. It there appears in two p'ien, of which we have the following account from the author of 'Supplemental Remarks upon the Four Books:'— 'The proper course now is to consider the first twenty chapters in Chu Hsi's arrangement as making up the first p'ien, and the remaining thirteen as forming the second. In this way we retain the old form of the Treatise, and do not come into collision with the views of Chu. For this suggestion we are indebted to Lu Wang- chai' (an author of the Sung dynasty ) [1].

SECTION IV.

ITS SCOPE AND VALUE.

1. The Doctrine of the Mean is a work not easy to understand. 'It first,' says the philosopher Chang, 'speaks of one principle; it next spreads this out and embraces all things; finally, it returns and gathers them up under the one principle. Unroll it and it fills the universe; roll it up, and it retires and lies hid in secrecy [2].' There is this advantage, however, to the student of it, that more than most other Chinese Treatises it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The first chapter stands to all that follows in the character of a text, containing several propositions of which we have the expansion or development. If that development were satisfactory, we should be able to bring our own minds en rapport with that of the author. Unfortunately it is not so. As a writer he belongs to the intuitional school more than to the logical. This is well put in the 'Continuation of the General Examination of Literary Monuments and Learned Men,'— 'The philosopher Tsang reached his conclusions by following in the train of things, watch-

1 See the l, art. e. 2 See the Introductory note of Chu Hsi.

ing and examining; whereas Tsze-sze proceeds directly and reaches to Heavenly virtue. His was a mysterious power of discernment, approaching to that of Yen Hui [1].' We must take the Book and the author, however, as we have them, and get to their meaning, if we can, by assiduous examination and reflection. 2. 'Man has received his nature from Heaven. Conduct in accordance with that nature constitutes what is right and true,— is a pursuing of the proper Path. The cultivation or regulation of that path is what is called Instruction.' It is with these axioms that the Treatise commences, and from such an introduction we might expect that the writer would go on to unfold the various principles of duty, derived from an analysis of man's moral constitution. Confining himself, however, to the second axiom, he proceeds to say that 'the path may not for an instant be left, and that the superior man is cautious and careful in reference to what he does not see, and fearful and apprehensive in reference to what he does not hear. There is nothing more visible than what is secret, and nothing more manifest than what is minute, and therefore the superior man is watchful over his aloneness.' This is not all very plain. Comparing it with the sixth chapter of Commentary in the Great Learning, it seems to inculcate what is there called 'making the thoughts sincere.' The passage contains an admonition about equivalent to that of Solomon,— 'Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life.' The next paragraph seems to speak of the nature and the path under other names. 'While there are no movements of pleasure, anger, sorrow, or joy, we have what may be called the state of equilibrium. When those feelings have been moved, and they all act in the due degree, we have what may be called the state of harmony. This equilibrium is the great root of the world, and this harmony is its universal path.' What is here called 'the state of equilibrium,' is the same as the nature given by Heaven, considered absolutely in itself, without deflection or inclination. This nature acted on from without, and responding with the various emotions, so as always 'to hit [2]' the mark with entire

1 See the mq, Bk. cxcix, art. l,—lo_H,l ,hFw,fXC. 2 '.

correctness, produces the state of harmony, and such harmonious response is the path along which all human activities should proceed. Finally. 'Let the states of equilibrium and harmony exist in perfection, and a happy order will prevail throughout heaven and earth, and all things will be nourished and flourish.' Here we pass into the sphere of mystery and mysticism. The language, according to Chu Hsi, 'describes the meritorious achievements and transforming influence of sage and spiritual men in their highest extent.' From the path of duty, where we tread on solid ground, the writer suddenly raises us aloft on wings of air, and will carry us we know not where, and to we know not what. 3. The paragraphs thus presented, and which constitute Chu Hsi's first chapter, contain the sum of the whole Work. This is acknowledged by all;— by the critics who disown Chu Hsi's interpretations of it, as freely as by him [1]. Revolving them in my own mind often and long, I collect from them the following as the ideas of the author:— Firstly, Man has received from Heaven a moral nature by which he is constituted a law to himself; secondly, Over this nature man requires to exercise a jealous watchfulness; and thirdly, As he possesses it, absolutely and relatively, in perfection, or attains to such possession of it, he becomes invested with the highest dignity and power, and may say to himself— 'I am a god; yea, I sit in the seat of God.' I will not say here that there is impiety in the last of these ideas; but do we not have in them the same combination which we found in the Great Learning,— a combination of the ordinary and the extraordinary, the plain and the vague, which is very perplexing to the mind, and renders the Book unfit for the purposes of mental and moral discipline? And here I may inquire whether we do right in calling the Treatise by any of the names which foreigners have hitherto used for it? In the note on the title, I have entered a little into this question. The Work is not at all what a reader must expect to find in what he supposes to be a treatise on 'The Golden Medium,' 'The Invariable Mean,' or 'The Doctrine of the Mean.' Those

l Compare Chu Hsi's language in his concluding note to the first chapter:— @g§n, and Mao Hsi-ho's, in his e, @, p. 11:— e@n].

names are descriptive only of a portion of it. Where the phrase Chung Yung occurs in the quotations from Confucius, in nearly every chapter from the second to the eleventh, we do well to translate it by 'the course of the Mean,' or some similar terms; but the conception of it in Tsze-sze's mind was of a different kind, as the preceding analysis of the first chapter sufficiently shows [1]. 4. I may return to this point of the proper title for the Work again, but in the meantime we must proceed with the analysis of it.— The ten chapters from the second to the eleventh constitute the second part, and in them Tsze-sze quotes the words of Confucius, 'for the purpose,' according to Chu Hsi, 'of illustrating the meaning of the first chapter.' Yet, as I have just intimated, they do not to my mind do this. Confucius bewails the rarity of the practice of the Mean, and graphically sets forth the difficulty of it. 'The empire, with its component States and families, may be ruled; dignities and emoluments may be declined; naked weapons may be trampled under foot; but the course of the Mean can not be attained to [2].' 'The knowing go beyond it, and the stupid do not come up to it [3].' Yet some have attained to it. Shun did so, humble and ever learning from people far inferior to himself [4]; and Yen Hui did so, holding fast whatever good he got hold of, and never letting it go [5]. Tsze-lu thought the Mean could be taken by storm, but Confucius taught him better [6]. And in fine, it is only the sage who can fully exemplify the Mean [7]. All these citations do not throw any light on the ideas presented in the first chapter. On the contrary, they interrupt the train of thought. Instead of showing us how virtue, or the path of duty is in accordance with our Heaven-given nature, they lead us to think of it as a mean between two extremes. Each extreme may be a violation of the law of our nature, but that is not made to appear. Confucius's sayings would be in place in illustrating the doctrine of the Peripatetics, 'which placed all virtue in a medium between opposite vices [8].' Here in the Chung Yung of Tsze-sze I have always felt them to be out of place. 5. In the twelfth chapter Tsze-sze speaks again himself, and we seem at once to know the voice. He begins by saying that 'the way of the superior man reaches far and wide, and yet is

1 In the version in 'The Sacred Books of the East,' I call the Treatise 'The State of Equilibrium and Harmony.' 2 Ch. ix. 3 Ch. iv. 4 Ch. vi. 5 Ch. viii. 6 Ch. x. 7 Ch. xi. 8 Encyclopaedia Britannica, Preliminary Dissertations, p. 318, eighth edition.

secret,' by which he means to tell us that the path of duty is to be pursued everywhere and at all times, while yet the secret spring and rule of it is near at hand, in the Heaven-conferred nature, the individual consciousness, with which no stranger can intermeddle. Chu Hsi, as will be seen in the notes, gives a different interpretation of the utterance. But the view which I have adopted is maintained convincingly by Mao Hsi-ho in the second part of his 'Observations on the Chung Yung.' With this chapter commences the third part of the Work, which embraces also the eight chapters which follow. 'It is designed,' says Chu Hsi, 'to illustrate what is said in the first chapter that "the path may not be left."' But more than that one sentence finds its illustration here. Tsze-sze had reference in it also to what he had said— 'The superior man does not wait till he sees things to be cautious, nor till he hears things to be apprehensive. There is nothing more visible than what is secret, and nothing more manifest than what is minute. Therefore, the superior man is watchful over himself when he is alone.' It is in this portion of the Chung Yung that we find a good deal of moral instruction which is really valuable. Most of it consists of sayings of Confucius, but the sentiments of Tsze-sze himself in his own language are interspersed with them. The sage of China has no higher utterances than those which are given in the thirteenth chapter.— 'The path is not far from man. When men try to pursue a course which is far from the common indications of consciousness, this course cannot be considered the path. In the Book of Poetry it is said—

"In hewing an axe-handle, in hewing an axe-handle, The pattern is not far off."

We grasp one axe-handle to hew the other, and yet if we look askance from the one to the other, we may consider them as apart. Therefore, the superior man governs men according to their nature, with what is proper to them; and as soon as they change what is wrong, he stops. When one cultivates to the utmost the moral principles of his nature, and exercises them on the principle of reciprocity, he is not far from the path. What you do not like when done to yourself, do not do to others.' 'In the way of the superior man there are four things, to none of which have I as yet attained.— To serve my father as I would require my son to serve me: to this I have not attained; to serve

my elder brother as I would require my younger brother to serve me: to this I have not attained; to serve my ruler as I would require my minister to serve me: to this I have not attained; to set the example in behaving to a friend as I would require him to behave to me: to this I have not attained. Earnest in practising the ordinary virtues, and careful in speaking about them; if in his practice he has anything defective, the superior man dares not but exert himself; and if in his words he has any excess, he dares not allow himself such license. Thus his words have respect to his actions, and his actions have respect to his words;— is it not just an entire sincerity which marks the superior man?' We have here the golden rule in its negative form expressly propounded:— 'What you do not like when done to yourself, do not do to others.' But in the paragraph which follows we have the rule virtually in its positive form. Confucius recognises the duty of taking the initiative,— of behaving himself to others in the first instance as he would that they should behave to him. There is a certain narrowness, indeed, in that the sphere of its operations seems to be confined to the relations of society, which are spoken of more at large in the twentieth chapter, but let us not grudge the tribute of our warm approbation to the sentiments. This chapter is followed by two from Tsze-sze, to the effect that the superior man does what is proper in every change of his situation, always finding his rule in himself; and that in his practice there is an orderly advance from step to step,— from what is near to what is remote. Then follow five chapters from Confucius:— the first, on the operation and influence of spiritual beings, to show 'the manifestness of what is minute, and the irrepressibleness of sincerity;' the second, on the filial piety of Shun, and how it was rewarded by Heaven with the throne, with enduring fame, and with long life; the third and fourth, on the kings Wan and Wu, and the duke of Chau, celebrating them for their filial piety and other associate virtues; and the fifth, on the subject of government. These chapters are interesting enough in themselves, but when I go back from them, and examine whether I have from them any better understanding of the paragraphs in the first chapter which they are said to illustrate, I do not find that I have. Three of them, the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth, would be more in place in the Classic of Filial Piety than here in the Chung Yung. The meaning of the

sixteenth is shadowy and undefined. After all the study which I have directed to it, there are some points in reference to which I have still doubts and difficulties. The twentieth chapter, which concludes the third portion of the Work, contains a full exposition of Confucius's views on government, though professedly descriptive only of that of the kings Wan and Wu. Along with lessons proper for a ruler there are many also of universal application, but the mingling of them perplexes the mind. It tells us of 'the five duties of universal application,'— those between sovereign and minister, husband and wife, father and son, elder and younger brother, and friends; of 'the three virtues by which those duties are carried into effect,' namely, knowledge, benevolence, and energy; and of 'the one thing, by which those virtues are practised,' which is singleness or sincerity [1]. It sets forth in detail the 'nine standard rules for the administration of government,' which are 'the cultivation by the ruler of his own character; the honouring men of virtue and talents; affection to his relatives; respect towards the great ministers; kind and considerate treatment of the whole body of officers; cherishing the mass of the people as children; encouraging all classes of artisans; indulgent treatment of men from a distance; and the kindly cherishing of the princes of the States [2].' There are these and other equally interesting topics in this chapter; but, as they are in the Work, they distract the mind, instead of making the author's great object more clear to it, and I will not say more upon them here. 6. Doubtless it was the mention of 'singleness,' or 'sincerity,' in the twentieth chapter, which made Tsze-sze introduce it into this Treatise, for from those terms he is able to go on to develop what he intended in saying that 'if the states of Equilibrium and Harmony exist in perfection, a happy order will prevail throughout heaven and earth, and all things will be nourished and flourish.' It is here, that now we are astonished at the audacity of the writer's assertions, and now lost in vain endeavours to ascertain his meaning. I have quoted the words of Confucius that it is 'singleness' by which the three virtues of knowledge, benevolence, and energy are able to carry into practice the duties of universal obligation. He says also that it is this same 'singleness' by which 'the nine standard rules of government' can be effectively carried out [3]. This 'singleness' is merely a name for 'the states of Equilibrium

1 Par. 8. 2 Par. 12. 3 Par. 15.

and Harmony existing in perfection.' It denotes a character absolutely and relatively good, wanting nothing in itself, and correct in all its outgoings. 'Sincerity' is another term for the same thing, and in speaking about it, Confucius makes a distinction between sincerity absolute and sincerity acquired. The former is born with some, and practised by them without any effort; the latter is attained by study, and practised by strong endeavour [1]. The former is 'the way of Heaven;' the latter is 'the way of men [2].' 'He who possesses sincerity,'— absolutely, that is,— 'is he who without effort hits what is right, and apprehends without the exercise of thought; he is the sage who naturally and easily embodies the right way. He who attains to sincerity, is he who chooses what is good and firmly holds it fast. And to this attainment there are requisite the extensive study of what is good, accurate inquiry about it, careful reflection on it, the clear discrimination of it, and the earnest practice of it [3].' In these passages Confucius unhesitatingly enunciates his belief that there are some men who are absolutely perfect, who come into the world as we might conceive the first man was, when he was created by God 'in His own image,' full of knowledge and righteousness, and who grow up as we know that Christ did, 'increasing in wisdom and in stature.' He disclaimed being considered to be such an one himself [4], but the sages of China were such. And moreover, others who are not so naturally may make themselves to become so. Some will have to put forth more effort and to contend with greater struggles, but the end will be the possession of the knowledge and the achievement of the practice. I need not say that these sentiments are contrary to the views of human nature which are presented in the Bible. The testimony of Revelation is that 'there is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sinneth not.' 'If we say that we have no sin,' and in writing this term, I am thinking here not of sin against God, but, if we can conceive of it apart from that, of failures in regard to what ought to be in our regulation of ourselves, and in our behavior to others;— 'if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.' This language is appropriate in the lips of the learned as well as in those of the ignorant, to the highest sage as to the lowest child of the soil. Neither the scriptures of God nor the experience of man know of individuals

1 Par. 9. 2 Par. 18. 3 Pars. 18, 19. 4 Ana. VII. xix.

absolutely perfect. The other sentiment that men can make themselves perfect is equally wide of the truth. Intelligence and goodness by no means stand to each other in the relation of cause and effect. The sayings of Ovid, 'Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor,' 'Nitimur in velitum semper. cupimusque negata,' are a more correct expression of the facts of human consciousness and conduct than the high-flown praises of Confucius. 7. But Tsze-sze adopts the dicta of his grandfather without questioning them, and gives them forth in his own style at the commencement of the fourth part of his Treatise. 'When we have intelligence resulting from sincerity, this condition is to be ascribed to nature; when we have sincerity resulting from intelligence, this condition is to be ascribed to instruction. But given the sincerity, and there shall be the intelligence; given the intelligence, and there shall be the sincerity [1].' Tsze-sze does more than adopt the dicta of Confucius. He applies them in a way which the Sage never did, and which he would probably have shrunk from doing. The sincere, or perfect man of Confucius, is he who satisfies completely all the requirements of duty in the various relations of society, and in the exercise of government; but the sincere man of Tsze-sze is a potency in the universe. 'Able to give its full development to his own nature, he can do the same to the nature of other men. Able to give its full development to the nature of other men, he can give their full development to the natures of animals and things. Able to give their full development to the natures of creatures and things, he can assist the transforming and nourishing powers of Heaven and Earth. Able to assist the transforming and nourishing powers of Heaven and Earth, he may with Heaven and Earth form a ternion [2].' Such are the results of sincerity natural. The case below this — of sincerity acquired, is as follows,— 'The individual cultivates its shoots. From these he can attain to the possession of sincerity. This sincerity becomes apparent. From being apparent, it becomes manifest. From being manifest, it becomes brilliant. Brilliant, it affects others. Affecting others, they are changed by it. Changed by it, they are transformed. It is only he who is possessed of the most complete sincerity that can exist under heaven, who can transform [3].' It may safely be affirmed, that when he thus expressed himself, Tsze-sze understood neither what he said nor

1 Ch. xxi. 2 Ch. xxii. 3 Ch. xxiii.

whereof he affirmed. Mao Hsi-ho and some other modern writers explain away many of his predicates of sincerity, so that in their hands they become nothing but extravagant hyperboles, but the author himself would, I believe, have protested against such a mode of dealing with his words. True, his structures are castles in the air, but he had no idea himself that they were so. In the twenty-fourth chapter there is a ridiculous descent from the sublimity of the two preceding. We are told that the possessor of entire sincerity is like a spirit and can foreknow, but the foreknowledge is only a judging by the milfoil and tortoise and other auguries! But the author recovers himself, and resumes his theme about sincerity as conducting to self- completion and the completion of other men and things, describing it also as possessing all the qualities which can be predicated of Heaven and Earth. Gradually the subject is made to converge to the person of Confucius, who is the ideal of the sage, as the sage is the ideal of humanity at large. An old account of the object of Tsze-sze in the Chung Yung is that he wrote it to celebrate the virtue of his grandfather [1]. He certainly contrives to do this in the course of it. The thirtieth, thirty-first, and thirty-second chapters contain his eulogium, and never has any other mortal been exalted in such terms. 'He may be compared to heaven and earth in their supporting and containing, their over- shadowing and curtaining all things; he may be compared to the four seasons in their alternating progress, and to the sun and moon in their successive shining.' 'Quick in apprehension, clear in discernment, of far-reaching intelligence, and all-embracing knowledge, he was fitted to exercise rule; magnanimous, generous, benign, and mild, he was fitted to exercise forbearance; impulsive, energetic, strong, and enduring, he was fitted to maintain a firm hold; self-adjusted, grave, never swerving from the Mean, and correct, he was fitted to command reverence; accomplished, distinctive, concentrative, and searching, he was fitted to exercise discrimination.' 'All-embracing and vast, he was like heaven; deep and active as a fountain, he was like the abyss.' 'Therefore his fame overspreads the Middle Kingdom, and extends to all barbarous tribes. Wherever ships and carriages reach; wherever the strength of man penetrates; wherever the heavens overshadow

1 wl],l,@HLw; see the e@, p. 1.

and the earth sustains; wherever the sun and moon shine; wherever frosts and dews fall;— all who have blood and breath unfeignedly honour and love him. Hence it is said,— He is the equal of Heaven!' 'Who can know him but he who is indeed quick in apprehension, clear in discernment, of far-reaching intelligence, and all-embracing knowledge, possessing all heavenly virtue?' 8. We have arrived at the concluding chapter of the Work, in which the author, according to Chu Hsi, 'having carried his descriptions to the highest point in the preceding chapters, turns back and examines the source of his subject; and then again from the work of the learner, free from all selfishness and watchful over himself when he is alone, he carries out his description, till by easy steps he brings it to the consummation of the whole world tranquillized by simple and sincere reverentialness. He moreover eulogizes its mysteriousness, till he speaks of it at last as without sound or smell [1].' Between the first and last chapters there is a correspondency, and each of them may be considered as a summary of the whole treatise. The difference between them is, that in the first a commencement is made with the mention of Heaven as the conferrer of man's nature, while in this the progress of man in virtue is traced, step by step, till at last it is equal to that of High Heaven. 9. I have thus in the preceding paragraphs given a general and somewhat copious review of this Work. My object has been to seize, if I could, the train of thought and to hold it up to the reader. Minor objections to it, arising from the confused use of terms and singular applications of passages from the older Classics, are noticed in the notes subjoined to the translation. I wished here that its scope should be seen, and the means be afforded of judging how far it is worthy of the high character attributed to it. 'The relish of it,' says the younger Ch'ang, 'is inexhaustible. The whole of it is solid learning. When the skilful reader has explored it with delight till he has apprehended it, he may carry it into practice all his life, and will find that it cannot be exhausted [2].' My own opinion of it is less favourable. The names by which it has been called in translations of it have led to misconceptions of its character. Were it styled 'The states of Equilibrium and Harmony,' we should be prepared to expect something strange and probably extravagant. Assuredly we should expect nothing more

1 See the concluding note by Chu Hsi. 2 See the Introductory note below.

strange or extravagant than what we have. It begins sufficiently well, but the author has hardly enunciated his preliminary apophthegms, when he conducts into an obscurity where we can hardly grope our way, and when we emerge from that, it is to be bewildered by his gorgeous but unsubstantial pictures of sagely perfection. He has eminently contributed to nourish the pride of his countrymen. He has exalted their sages above all that is called God or is worshipped, and taught the masses of the people that with them they have need of nothing from without. In the meantime it is antagonistic to Christianity. By-and-by, when Christianity has prevailed in China, men will refer to it as a striking proof how their fathers by their wisdom knew neither God nor themselves.



CHAPTER V. CONFUCIUS AND HIS IMMEDIATE DISCIPLES.

SECTION I. LIFE OF CONFUCIUS.

1. 'And have you foreigners surnames as well?' This question has often been put to me by Chinese. It marks the ignorance which belongs to the people of all that is external to

[Sidebar] His ancestry.

themselves, and the pride of antiquity which enters largely as an element into their character. If such a pride could in any case be justified, we might allow it to the family of the K'ung, the descendants of Confucius. In the reign of K'ang-hsi, twenty-one centuries and a half after the death of the sage, they amounted to eleven thousand males. But their ancestry is carried back through a period of equal extent, and genealogical tables are common, in which the descent of Confucius is traced down from Hwang-ti, in whose reign the cycle was invented, B.C. 2637 [1]. The more moderate writers, however, content themselves with exhibiting his ancestry back to the commencement of the Chau dynasty, B.C. 1121. Among the relatives of the tyrant Chau, the last emperor of the Yin dynasty, was an elder brother, by a concubine, named Ch'i [2], who is celebrated by Confucius, Ana. XVIII. i, under the title of the viscount of Wei. Foreseeing the impending ruin of their family, Ch'i withdrew from the court; and subsequently he was invested by the emperor Ch'ang, the second of the house of Chau, with the principality of Sung, which embraced the eastern portion of the present province of Ho-nan, that he might there continue the sacrifices to the sovereigns of Yin. Ch'i was followed as duke of Sung by a younger brother, in whose line the succession continued. His great-grandson, the duke Min [3], was

l See Memoires concernant les Chinois, Tome XII, p. 447 et seq. Father Amiot states, p. 501, that he had seen the representative of the family, who succeeded to the dignity of lt in the ninth year of Ch'ien-lung, A.D. 1744. The last duke, not the present, was visited in our own time by the late Dr. Williamson and Mr. Consul Markham. It is hardly necessary that I should say here, that the name Confucius is merely the Chinese characters l (K'ung Fu- tsze, 'The master K'ung') Latinized. 2 . 3 ].

followed, B.C. 908, by a younger brother, leaving, however, two sons, Fu-fu Ho [1] and Fang-sze [2]. Fu Ho [3] resigned his right to the dukedom in favour of Fang-sze, who put his uncle to death in B.C. 893, and became master of the State. He is known as the duke Li [4], and to his elder brother belongs the honour of having the sage among his descendants. Three descents from Fu Ho, we find Chang K'ao-fu [5], who was a distinguished officer under the dukes Tai, Wu, and Hsuan [6] (B.C. 799-728). He is still celebrated for his humility, and for his literary tastes. We have accounts of him as being in communication with the Grand-historiographer of the kingdom, and engaged in researches about its ancient poetry, thus setting an example of one of the works to which Confucius gave himself [7]. K'ao gave birth to K'ung-fu Chia [8], from whom the surname of K'ung took its rise. Five generations had now elapsed since the dukedom was held in the direct line of his ancestry, and it was according to the rule in such cases that the branch should cease its connexion with the ducal stem, and merge among the people under a new surname. K'ung Chia was Master of the Horse in Sung, and an officer of well-known loyalty and probity. Unfortunately for himself, he had a wife of surpassing beauty, of whom the chief minister of the State, by name Hwa Tu [9], happened on one occasion to get a glimpse. Determined to possess her, he commenced a series of intrigues, which ended, B.C. 710, in the murder of Chia and of the ruling duke Shang [10]. At the same time, Tu secured the person of the lady, and hastened to his palace with the prize, but on the way she had strangled herself with her girdle. An enmity was thus commenced between the two families of K'ung and Hwa which the lapse of time did not obliterate, and the latter being the more powerful of the two, Chia's great- grandson withdrew into the State of Lu to avoid their persecution. There he was appointed commandant of the city of Fang [11], and is known

1 . 2 (al. ) . 3 I drop here the (second tone), which seems to have been used in those times in a manner equivalent to our Mr. 4 F. 5 j; j is used in the same way as ; see note 3. 6 , Z, , T. 7 See the y, and ; quoted in Chiang Yung's (u) Life of Confucius, which forms a part of the m. 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 .

in history by the name of Fang-shu [1]. Fang-shu gave birth to Po- hsia [2], and from him came Shu-liang Heh [3], the father of Confucius. Heh appears in the history of the times as a soldier of great prowess and daring bravery. In the year B.C. 562, when serving at the siege of a place called Peh-yang [4], a party of the assailants made their way in at a gate which had purposely been left open, and no sooner were they inside than the portcullis was dropped. Heh was just entering; and catching the massive structure with both his hands, he gradually by dint of main strength raised it and held it up, till his friends had made their escape. Thus much on the ancestry of the sage. Doubtless he could trace his descent in the way which has been indicated up to the imperial house of Yin, nor was there one among his ancestors during the rule of Chau to whom he could not refer with satisfaction. They had been ministers and soldiers of Sung and Lu, all men of worth, and in Chang K'ao, both for his humility and literary researches, Confucius might have special complacency. 2. Confucius was the child of Shu-liang Heh's old age. The soldier had married in early life, but his wife brought him only

[Sidebar] From his birth to his first public employments. B.C. 551- 531.

daughters,— to the number of nine, and no son. By a concubine he had a son, named Mang-p'i, and also Po-ni [5], who proved a cripple, so that, when he was over seventy years, Heh sought a second wife in the Yen family [6], from which came subsequently Yen Hui, the favourite disciple of his son. There were three daughters in the family, the youngest being named Chang-tsai [7]. Their father said to them, 'Here is the commandant of Tsau. His father and grandfather were only scholars, but his ancestors before them were descendants of the sage sovereigns. He is a man ten feet high [8], and of extraordinary prowess, and I am very desirous of his alliance. Though he is old and austere, you need have no misgivings about him. Which of you three will be his wife? 'The two elder daughters were silent, but Chang-tsai said, 'Why do you ask us, father? It is for you to determine.' 'Very well,' said her father in reply, 'you will do.' Chang-tsai, accordingly, became Heh's wife, and in due time gave

1 . 2 BL. 3 . 4 M. 5 s, @rB. 6 C. 7 xb. 8 H, Q. See, on the length of the ancient foot, Ana. VIII. vi, but the point needs a more sifting investigation than it has yet received.

birth to Confucius, who received the name of Ch'iu, and was subsequently styled Chung-ni [1]. The event happened on the twenty-first day of the tenth month of the twenty-first year of the duke Hsiang, of Lu, being the twentieth year of the emperor Ling, B.C. 552 [2]. The birth-place was in the district of Tsau [3], of which Heh was the governor. It was somewhere within the limits of the present department of Yen-chau in Shan-tung, but the honour of being the exact spot is claimed for two places in two different districts of the department. The notices which we have of Confucius's early years are very scanty. When he was in his third year his father died. It is related of him, that as a boy he used to play at the arrangement of

1 W, r. The legends say that Chang-tsai fearing lest she should not have a son, in consequence of her husband's age, privately ascended the Ni-ch'iu hill to pray for the boon, and that when she had obtained it, she commemorated the fact in the names — Ch'iu and Chung-ni. But the cripple, Mang-p'i, had previous been styled Po-ni. There was some reason, previous to Confucius's birth, for using the term ni in the family. As might be expected, the birth of the sage is surrounded with many prodigious occurrences. One account is, that the husband and wife prayed together for a son in a dell of mount Ni. As Chang-tsai went up the hill, the leaves of the trees and plants all erected themselves, and bent downwards on her return. That night she dreamt the black Ti appeared, and said to her, 'You shall have a son, a sage, and you must bring him forth in a hollow mulberry tree.' One day during her pregnancy, she fell into a dreamy state, and saw five old men in the hall, who called themselves the essences of the five planets, and led an animal which looked like a small cow with one horn, and was covered with scales like a dragon. This creature knelt before Chang-tsai, and cast forth from its mouth a slip of jade, on which was the inscription,— 'The son of the essence of water shall succeed to the decaying Chau, and be a throneless king.' Chang-tsai tied a piece of embroidered ribbon about its horn, and the vision disappeared. When Heh was told of it, he said, 'The creature must be the Ch'i-lin.' As her time drew near, Chang-tsai asked her husband if there was any place in the neighborhood called 'the hollow mulberry tree.' He told her there was a dry cave in the south hill, which went by that name. Then she said, 'I will go and be confined there.' Her husband was surprised, but when made acquainted with her former dream, he made the necessary arrangements. On the night when the child was born, two dragons came and kept watch on the left and right of the hill, and two spirit-ladies appeared in the air, pouring out fragrant odors, as if to bathe Chang-tsai; and as soon as the birth took place, a spring of clear warm water bubbled up from the floor of the cave, which dried up again when the child had been washed in it. The child was of an extraordinary appearance; with a mouth like the sea, ox lips, a dragon's back, &c. &c. On the top of his head was a remarkable formation, in consequence of which he was named Ch'iu, &c. See the C, Bk. lxxviii.—Sze-ma Ch'ien seems to make Confucius to have been illegitimate, saying that Heh and Miss Yen cohabited in the wilderness (X). Chiang Yung says that the phrase has reference simply to the disparity of their ages. 2 Sze-ma Ch'ien says that Confucius was born in the twenty- second year of duke Hsiang, B.C. 550. He is followed by Chu Hsi in the short sketch of Confucius's life prefixed to the Lun Yu, and by 'The Annals of the Empire' (N), published with imperial sanction in the reign of Chia-ch'ing. (To this latter work I have generally referred for my dates.) The year assigned in the text above rests on the authority of Ku-liang and Kung-yang, the two commentators on the Ch'un-Ch'iu. With regard to the month, however, the tenth is that assigned by Ku-liang, while Kung-yang names the eleventh. 3 Tsau is written , , , and Q.

sacrificial vessels, and at postures of ceremony. Of his schooling we have no reliable account. There is a legend, indeed, that at seven he went to school to Yen P'ing-chung [1], but it must be rejected as P'ing-chung belonged to the State of Ch'i. He tells us himself that at fifteen he bent his mind to learning [2]; but the condition of the family was one of poverty. At a subsequent period, when people were astonished at the variety of his knowledge, he explained it by saying, 'When I was young, my condition was low, and therefore I acquired my ability in many things; but they were mean matters [3].' When he was nineteen, he married a lady from the State of Sung, of the Chien-kwan family [4], and in the following year his son Li was born. On the occasion of this event, the duke Chao sent him a present of a couple of carp. It was to signify his sense of his prince's favour, that he called his son Li (The Carp), and afterwards gave him the designation of Po-yu [5] (Fish Primus). No mention is made of the birth of any other children, though we know, from Ana. V. i, that he had at least one daughter. We know also, from an inscription on her grave, that he had one other daughter, who died when she was quite young. The fact of the duke of Lu's sending him a gift on the occasion of Li's birth, shows that he was not unknown, but was already commanding public attention and the respect of the great. It was about this time, probably in the year after his marriage, that Confucius took his first public employment, as keeper of the stores of grain [6], and in the following year he was put in charge of the public fields and lands [7]. Mencius adduces these employments in illustration of his doctrine that the superior man may at times take office on account of his poverty, but must confine himself in such a case to places of small emolument, and aim at nothing but the discharge of their humble duties. According to him. Confucius, as keeper of stores, said, 'My calculations must all be right:— that is all I have to care about;' and when in charge of the public fields, he said, 'The oxen and sheep must be fat and strong and

1 . 2 Ana. II. iv. 3 Ana. IX. vi. 4 x. 5 WU, rB. 6 eO. This is Mencius's account. Sze-ma Ch'ien says uO, but his subsequent words q show that the office was the same. 7 Mencius calls this office , while Sze-ma Ch'ien says q¾ O.

superior:— that is all I have to care about [1].' It does not appear whether these offices were held by Confucius in the direct employment of the State, or as a dependent of the Chi family in whose jurisdiction he lived. The present of the carp from the duke may incline us to suppose the former. 3. In his twenty-second year, Confucius commenced his labors as a public teacher, and his house became a resort for young and inquiring spirits, who wished to learn the doctrines of antiquity.

[Sidebar] Commencement of his labors as a teacher. The death of his mother. B.C. 531-527.

However small the fee his pupils were able to afford, he never refused his instructions [2]. All that he required, was an ardent desire for improvement, and some degree of capacity. 'I do not open up the truth,' he said, 'to one who is not eager to get knowledge, nor help out any one who is not anxious to explain himself. When I have presented one corner of a subject to any one, and he cannot from it learn the other three, I do not repeat my lesson [3].' His mother died in the year B.C. 527, and he resolved that her body should lie in the same grave with that of his father, and that their common resting-place should be in Fang, the first home of the K'ung in Lu. But here a difficulty presented itself. His father's coffin had been for twenty years where it had first been deposited, off the road of The Five Fathers, in the vicinity of Tsau:— would it be right in him to move it? He was relieved from this perplexity by an old woman of the neighborhood, who told him that the coffin had only just been put into the ground, as a temporary arrangement, and not regularly buried. On learning this, he carried his purpose into execution. Both coffins were conveyed to Fang, and put in the ground together, with no intervening space between them, as was the custom in some States. And now came a new perplexity. He said to himself, 'In old times, they had graves, but raised no tumulus over them. But I am a man, who belongs equally to the north and the south, the east and the west. I must have something by which I can remember the place.' Accordingly he raised a mound, four feet high, over the grave, and returned home, leaving a party of his disciples to see everything properly completed. In the meantime there came on a heavy storm of rain, and it was a considerable time before the disciples joined him. 'What makes you so late?' he asked. 'The grave in Fang fell down,' they said. He made no reply, and they repeated their

1 Mencius, V. Pt. II. v. 4. 2 Ana. VII. vii. 3 Ana. VII. viii.

answer three times, when he burst into tears, and said, 'Ah! they did not make their graves so in antiquity [1].' 'Confucius mourned for his mother the regular period of three years,— three years nominally, but in fact only twenty-seven months. Five days after the mourning was expired, he played on his lute, but could not sing. It required other five days before he could accompany an instrument with his voice [2]. Some writers have represented Confucius as teaching his disciples important lessons from the manner in which he buried his mother, and having a design to correct irregularities in the ordinary funeral ceremonies of the time. These things are altogether 'without book.' We simply have a dutiful son paying the last tribute of affection to a good parent. In one point he departs from the ancient practice, raising a mound over the grave, and when the fresh earth gives way from a sudden rain, he is moved to tears, and seems to regret his innovation. This sets Confucius vividly before us,— a man of the past as much as of the present, whose own natural feelings were liable to be hampered in their development by the traditions of antiquity which he considered sacred. It is important, however, to observe the reason which he gave for rearing the mound. He had in it a presentiment of much of his future course. He was 'a man of the north, the south, the east, and the west.' He might not confine himself to any one State. He would travel, and his way might be directed to some 'wise ruler,' whom his counsels would conduct to a benevolent sway that would break forth on every side till it transformed the empire. 4. When the mourning for his mother was over, Confucius remained in Lu, but in what special capacity we do not know. Probably he continued to encourage the resort of

[Sidebar] He learns music; visits the court of Chau; and returns to Lu. B.C. 527-517.

inquirers to whom he communicated instruction, and pursued his own researches into the history, literature, and institutions of the empire. In the year B.C. 525, the chief of the small State of T'an [3], made his appearance at the court of Lu, and discoursed in a wonderful manner, at a feast given to him by the duke, about the names which the most ancient sovereigns, from Hwang-ti downwards, gave to their

1 Li Chi, II. Sect I. i. 10; Sect. II. iii. 30; Pt. I. i. 6. See also the discussion of those passages in Chiang Yung's 'Life of Confucius.' 2 Li Chi, II. Sect. I. i. 23. 3 See the Ch'un Ch'iu, under the seventh year of duke Chao,— , l.

ministers. The sacrifices to the emperor Shao-hao, the next in descent from Hwang-ti, were maintained in T'an, so that the chief fancied that he knew all about the abstruse subject on which he discoursed. Confucius, hearing about the matter, waited on the visitor, and learned from him all that he had to communicate [1]. To the year B.C. 525, when Confucius was twenty-nine years old, is referred his studying music under a famous master of the name of Hsiang [2]. He was approaching his thirtieth year when, as he tells us, 'he stood [3]' firm, that is, in his convictions on the subjects of learning to which he had bent his mind fifteen years before. Five years more, however, were still to pass by, before the anticipation mentioned in the conclusion of the last paragraph began to receive its fulfillment [4], though we may conclude from the way in which it was brought about that he was growing all the time in the estimation of the thinking minds in his native State. In the twenty-fourth year of duke Chao, B.C. 518, one of the principal ministers of Lu, known by the name of Mang Hsi, died. Seventeen years before, he had painfully felt his ignorance of ceremonial observances, and had made it his subsequent business to make himself acquainted with them. On his deathbed, he addressed his chief officer, saying, 'A knowledge of propriety is the stem of a man. Without it he has no means of standing firm. I have heard that there is one K'ung Ch'iu, who is thoroughly versed in it. He is a descendant of sages, and though the line of his family was extinguished in Sung, among his ancestors there were Fu-fu Ho, who resigned the State to his brother, and Chang K'ao- fu, who was distinguished for his humility. Tsang Heh has observed that if sage men of intelligent virtue do not attain to eminence, distinguished men are sure to appear among their posterity. His words are now to be verified, I think, in K'ung Ch'iu. After my death, you must

1 This rests on the respectable authority of Tso Ch'iu-ming's annotations on the Ch'un Ch'iu, but I must consider it apocryphal. The legend-writers have fashioned a journey to T'an. The slightest historical intimation becomes a text with them, on which they enlarge to the glory of the sage. Amiot has reproduced and expanded their romancings, and others, such as Pauthier (Chine, pp. 121-183) and Thornton (History of China, vol. i. pp. 151-215), have followed in his wake. 2 v. See the 'Narratives of the School,' T, art G; but the account there given is not more credible than the chief of T'an's expositions. 3 Ana. II. iv. 4 The journey to Chau is placed by Sze-ma Ch'ien before Confucius's holding of his first official employments, and Chu Hsi and most other writers follow him. It is a great error, and arisen from a misunderstanding of the passage from the upon the subject.

tell Ho-chi to go and study proprieties under him [1].' In consequence of this charge, Ho-chi [2], Mang Hsi's son, who appears in the Analects under the name of Mang I [3], and a brother, or perhaps on]y a near relative, named Nan-kung Chang- shu [4], became disciples of Confucius. Their wealth and standing in the State gave him a position which he had not had before, and he told Chang-shu of a wish which he had to visit the court of Chau, and especially to confer on the subject of ceremonies and music with Lao Tan. Chang-shu represented the matter to the duke Ch'ao, who put a carriage and a pair of horses at Confucius's disposal for the expedition [5]. At this time the court of Chau was in the city of Lo [6]. in the present department of Ho-nan of the province of the same name. The reigning sovereign is known by the title of Chang [7], but the sovereignty was little more than nominal. The state of China was then analogous to that of one of the European kingdoms during the prevalence of the feudal system. At the commencement of the dynasty, the various states of the kingdom had been assigned to the relatives and adherents of the reigning family. There were thirteen principalities of greater note, and a large number of smaller dependencies. During the vigorous youth of the dynasty, the sovereign or lord paramount exercised an effective control over the various chiefs, but with the lapse of time there came weakness and decay. The chiefs —corresponding somewhat to the European dukes, earls, marquises, barons, &c. — quarrelled and warred among themselves, and the stronger among them barely acknowledged their subjection to the sovereign. A similar condition of things prevailed in each particular State. There there [sic] were hereditary ministerial families, who were continually encroaching on the authority of their rulers, and the heads of those families again were frequently hard pressed by their inferior officers. Such was the state of China in Confucius's time. The reader must have it clearly before him, if he would understand the position of the sage, and the reforms which, we shall find, it was subsequently his object to introduce. Arrived at Chau, he had no intercourse with the court or any of

1 See , LC~. 2 . 3 stl. 4 ncq. 5 The ay makes Chang-shu accompany Confucius to Chau. It is difficult to understand this, if Chang-shu were really a son of Mang Hsi who had died that year. 6 . 7 q (B.C. 519-475)

the principal ministers. He was there not as a politician, but as an inquirer about the ceremonies and maxims of the founders of the existing dynasty. Lao Tan [1], whom he had wished to see, generally acknowledged as the founder of the Taoists, or Rationalistic sect (so called), which has maintained its ground in opposition to the followers of Confucius, was then a curator of the royal library. They met and freely interchanged their views, but no reliable account of their conversations has been preserved. In the fifth Book of the Li Chi, which is headed 'The philosopher Tsang asked,' Confucius refers four times to the views of Lao- tsze on certain points of funeral ceremonies, and in the 'Narratives of the School,' Book XXIV, he tells Chi K'ang what he had heard from him about 'The Five Tis,' but we may hope their conversation turned also on more important subjects. Sze-ma Ch'ien, favourable to Lao-tsze, makes him lecture his visitor in the following style:— 'Those whom you talk about are dead, and their bones are moldered to dust; only their words remain. When the superior man gets his time, he mounts aloft; but when the time is against him, he moves as if his feet were entangled. I have heard that a good merchant, though he has rich treasures deeply stored, appears as if he were poor, and that the superior man whose virtue is complete, is yet to outward seeming stupid. Put away your proud air and many desires, your insinuating habit and wild will [2]. These are of no advantage to you. This is all which I have to tell you.' On the other hand, Confucius is made to say to his disciples, 'I know how birds can fly, how fishes can swim, and how animals can run. But the runner may be snared, the swimmer may be hooked, and the flyer may be shot by the arrow. But there is the dragon. I cannot tell how he mounts on the wind through the clouds, and rises to heaven. Today I have seen Lao- tsze, and can only compare him to the dragon [3].' While at Lo, Confucius walked over the grounds set apart for the great sacrifices to Heaven and Earth; inspected the pattern of the Hall of Light, built to give audience in to the princes of the kingdom; and examined all the arrangements of the ancestral temple and the court. From the whole he received a profound

1 According to Sze-ma Ch'ien, Tan was the posthumous epithet of this individual, whose surname was Li (), name R (), and designation Po-yang (B). 2 hAP]. 3 See the vO, CT, and compare the remarks attributed to Lao-tsze in the account of the K'ung family near the beginning.

impression. 'Now,' said he with a sigh, 'I know the sage wisdom of the duke of Chau, and how the House of Chau attained to the royal sway [1].' On the walls of the Hall of Light were paintings of the ancient sovereigns from Yao and Shun downwards, their characters appearing in the representations of them, and words of praise or warning being appended. There was also a picture of the duke of Chau sitting with his infant nephew, the king Ch'ang, upon his knees, to give audience to all the princes. Confucius surveyed the scene with silent delight, and then said to his followers, 'Here you see how Chau became so great. As we use a glass to examine the forms of things, so must we study antiquity in order to understand the present time [2].' In the hall of the ancestral temple, there was a metal statue of a man with three clasps upon his mouth, and his back covered over with an enjoyable homily on the duty of keeping a watch upon the lips. Confucius turned to his disciples and said, 'Observe it, my children. These words are true, and commend themselves to our feelings [3].' About music he made inquiries at Ch'ang Hung, to whom the following remarks are attributed:— 'I have observed about Chung- ni many marks of a sage. He has river eyes and a dragon forehead,- - the very characteristics of Hwang-ti. His arms are long, his back is like a tortoise, and he is nine feet six inches in height,— the very semblance of T'ang the Completer. When he speaks, he praises the ancient kings. He moves along the path of humility and courtesy. He has heard of every subject, and retains with a strong memory. His knowledge of things seems inexhaustible.— Have we not in him the rising of a sage [4]?' I have given these notices of Confucius at the court of Chau, more as being the only ones I could find, than because I put much faith in them. He did not remain there long, but returned the same year to Lu, and continued his work of teaching. His fame was greatly increased; disciples came to him from different parts, till their number amounted to three thousand. Several of those who have come down to us as the most distinguished among his followers, however, were yet unborn, and the statement just given may be considered as an exaggeration. We are not to conceive of the disciples as forming a community, and living together. Parties

1 2 3 See the ay, G, art. [P. 4 Quoted by Chiang Yung from the 'Narratives of the School.'

of them may have done so. We shall find Confucius hereafter always moving amid a company of admiring pupils; but the greater number must have had their proper avocations and ways of living, and would only resort to the Master, when they wished specially to ask his counsel or to learn of him. 5. In the year succeeding the return to Lu, that State fell into great confusion. There were three Families in it, all connected irregularly with the ducal House, which had long kept the rulers in a condition of dependency. They appear frequently in the Analects as the Chi clan, the Shu, and the Mang; and while Confucius freely spoke of their

[Sidebar] He withdraws to Chi and returns to Lu the following year. B.C. 515, 516.

usurpations [1], he was a sort of dependent of the Chi family, and appears in frequent communication with members of all the three. In the year B.C. 517, the duke Chao came to open hostilities with them, and being worsted, fled into Ch'i, the State adjoining Lu on the north. Thither Confucius also repaired, that he might avoid the prevailing disorder of his native State. Ch'i was then under the government of a ruler (in rank a marquis, but historically called duke) , afterwards styled Ching [2], who 'had a thousand teams, each of four horses, but on the day of his death the people did not praise him for a single virtue [3].' His chief minister, however, was Yen Ying [4], a man of considerable ability and worth. At his court the music of the ancient sage-emperor, Shun, originally brought to Ch'i from the State of Ch'an [5], was still preserved. According to the 'Narratives of the School,' an incident occurred on the way to Ch'i, which I may transfer to these pages as a good specimen of the way in which Confucius turned occurring matters to account, in his intercourse with his disciples. As he was passing by the side of the Tai mountain, there was a woman weeping and wailing by a grave. Confucius bent forward in his carriage, and after listening to her for some time, sent Tsze-lu to ask the cause of her grief. 'You weep, as if you had experienced sorrow upon sorrow,' said Tsze-lu. The woman replied, 'It is so. My husband's father was killed here by a tiger, and my husband also; and now my son has met the same fate.' Confucius asked her why she did not remove from the place, and on her answering,' There is here no oppressive government,' he turned to his disciples, and said, 'My

1 See Analects, III. i. ii, et al. 2 . 3 Ana. XVI. xii. 4 . This is the same who was afterwards styled . 5 .

children, remember this. Oppressive government is fiercer than a tiger [1].' As soon as he crossed the border from Lu, we are told he discovered from the gait and manners of a boy, whom he saw carrying a pitcher, the influence of the sages' music, and told the driver of his carriage to hurry on to the capital [2]. Arrived there, he heard the strain, and was so ravished with it, that for three months he did not know the taste of flesh. 'I did not think,' he said, 'that music could have been made so excellent as this [3].' The duke Ching was pleased with the conferences which he had with him [4], and proposed to assign to him the town of Lin-ch'iu, from the revenues of which he might derive a sufficient support; but Confucius refused the gift, and said to his disciples, 'A superior man will only receive reward for services which he has done. I have given advice to the duke Ching, but he has not yet obeyed it, and now he would endow me with this place! Very far is he from understanding me [5]!' On one occasion the duke asked about government, and received the characteristic reply, 'There is government when the ruler is ruler, and the minister is minister; when the father is father, and the son is son [6].' I say that the reply is characteristic. Once, when Tsze-lu asked him what he would consider the first thing to be done if entrusted with the government of a State, Confucius answered, 'What is necessary is to rectify names [7].' The disciple thought the reply wide of the mark, but it was substantially the same with what he said to the marquis Ching. There is a sufficient foundation in nature for government in the several relations of society, and if those be maintained and developed according to their relative significancy, it is sure to obtain. This was a first principle in the political ethics of Confucius. Another day the duke got to a similar inquiry the reply that the art of government lay in an economical use of the revenues; and being pleased, he resumed his purpose of retaining the philosopher in his State, and proposed to assign to him the fields of Ni-ch'i. His

1 See the ay, , art. . I have translated, however, from the Li Chi, II. Sect. II. iii. 10, where the same incident is given, with some variations, and without saying when or where it occurred. 2 See the b, QE, p. 13. 3 Ana. VII. xiii. 4 Some of these are related in the 'Narratives of the School;' about the burning of the ancestral shrine of the sovereign , and a one-footed bird which appeared hopping and flapping its wings in Ch'i. They are plainly fabulous, though quoted in proof of Confucius's sage wisdom. This reference to them is more than enough. 5 ay, G, . 6 Ana. XII. xi. 7 Ana. XIII. iii.

chief minister Yen Ying dissuaded him from the purpose, saying, 'Those scholars are impracticable, and cannot be imitated. They are haughty and conceited of their own views, so that they will not be content in inferior positions. They set a high value on all funeral ceremonies, give way to their grief, and will waste their property on great burials, so that they would only be injurious to the common manners. This Mr. K'ung has a thousand peculiarities. It would take generations to exhaust all that he knows about the ceremonies of going up and going down. This is not the time to examine into his rules of propriety. If you, prince, wish to employ him to change the customs of Ch'i, you will not be making the people your primary consideration [1].' I had rather believe that these were not the words of Yen Ying, but they must represent pretty correctly the sentiments of many of the statesmen of the time about Confucius. The duke of Ch'i got tired ere long of having such a monitor about him, and observed. 'I cannot treat him as I would the chief of the Chi family. I will treat him in a way between that accorded to the chief of the Chi, and that given to the chief of the Mang family.' Finally he said, 'I am old; I cannot use his doctrines [2].' These observations were made directly to Confucius, or came to his hearing [3]. It was not consistent with his self-respect to remain longer in Ch'i, and he returned to Lu [4]. 6. Returned to Lu, he remained for the long period of about fifteen years without being engaged in any official employment. It

[Sidebar] He remains without office in Lu, B.C. 516-501.

was a time indeed of great disorder. The duke Chao continued a refugee in Ch'i, the government being in the hands of the great Families, up to his death in B.C. 510, on which event the rightful heir was set aside, and another member of the ducal House, known to us by the title of Ting [5], substituted in his place. The ruling authority of the principality became thus still more enfeebled than it had been before, and, on the other hand, the chiefs of the Chi, the Shu, and the Mang, could hardly keep their ground against their own officers. Of those latter, the two most conspicuous were Yang Hu [6], called also Yang Ho [7], and

1 See the vO, l@a, p. 2. 2 Ana. XVIII. iii 3 Sze-ma Ch'ien makes the first observation to have been addressed directly to Confucius. 4 According to the above account Confucius was only once, and for a portion of two years, in Ch'i. For the refutation of contrary accounts, see Chiang Yung's Life of the Sage. 5 w. 6 . 7 f.

Kung-shan Fu-zao [1]. At one time Chi Hwan, the most powerful of the chiefs, was kept a prisoner by Yang Hu, and was obliged to make terms with him in order to obtain his liberation. Confucius would give his countenance to none, as he disapproved of all, and he studiously kept aloof from them. Of how he comported himself among them we have a specimen in the incident related in the Analects, XVII. i.— 'Yang Ho wished to see Confucius, but Confucius would not go to see him. On this, he sent a present of a pig to Confucius, who, having chosen a time when Ho was not at home, went to pay his respects for the gift. He met him, however, on the way. "Come, let me speak with you," said the officer. "Can he be called benevolent, who keeps his jewel in his bosom, and leaves his country to confusion?" Confucius replied, "No." "Can he be called wise, who is anxious to be engaged in public employment, and yet is constantly losing the opportunity of being so?" Confucius again said, "No." The other added, "The days and months are passing away; the years do not wait for us." Confucius said, "Right; I will go into office."' Chinese writers are eloquent in their praises of the sage for the combination of propriety, complaisance and firmness, which they see in his behavior in this matter. To myself there seems nothing remarkable in it but a somewhat questionable dexterity. But it was well for the fame of Confucius that his time was not occupied during those years with official services. He turned them to better account, prosecuting his researches into the poetry, history, ceremonies, and music of the nation. Many disciples continued to resort to him, and the legendary writers tell us how he employed their services in digesting the results of his studies. I must repeat, however, that several of them, whose names are most famous, such as Tsang Shan, were as yet children, and Min Sun [2] was not born till B.C. 500. To this period we must refer the almost single instance which we have of the manner of Confucius's intercourse with his son Li. 'Have you heard any lessons from your father different from what we have all heard?' asked one of the disciples once of Li. 'No,' said Li. 'He was standing alone once, when I was passing through the court below with hasty steps, and said to me, "Have you learned the Odes?" On my replying, "Not yet," he added, "If you do not learn the Odes, you will not be fit to converse with." Another day,

1 sZ(vO, c). 2 {l.

in the same place and the same way, he said to me, "Have you read the rules of Propriety?" On my replying, "Not yet," he added, "If you do not learn the rules of Propriety, your character cannot be established." I have heard only these two things from him.' The disciple was delighted and observed, 'I asked one thing, and I have got three things. I have heard about the Odes. I have heard about the rules of Propriety. I have also heard that the superior man maintains a distant reserve towards his son [1].' I can easily believe that this distant reserve was the rule which Confucius followed generally in his treatment of his son. A stern dignity is the quality which a father has to maintain upon his system. It is not to be without the element of kindness, but that must never go beyond the line of propriety. There is too little room left for the play and development of natural affection. The divorce of his wife must also have taken place during these years, if it ever took place at all, which is a disputed point. The curious reader will find the question discussed in the notes on the second Book of the Li Chi. The evidence inclines, I think, against the supposition that Confucius did put his wife away. When she died, at a period subsequent to the present, Li kept on weeping aloud for her after the period for such a demonstration of grief had expired, when Confucius sent a message to him that his sorrow must be subdued, and the obedient son dried his tears [2]. We are glad to know that on one occasion the death of his favourite disciple, Yen Hui — the tears of Confucius himself would flow over and above the measure of propriety [3]. 7. We come to the short period of Confucius's official life. In the

[Sidebar] He holds office. B.C. 500-496.

year B.C. 501, things had come to a head between the chiefs of the three Families and their ministers, and had resulted in the defeat of the latter. In that year the resources of Yang Hu were exhausted, and he fled into Ch'i, so that the State was delivered from its greatest troubler, and the way was made more clear for Confucius to go into office, should an opportunity occur. It soon presented itself. Towards the end of that year he was made chief magistrate of the town of Chung-tu [4].

1 Ana. XVI. xiii. 2 See the Li Chi, II. Pt. I. i. 27. 3 Ana. XI. ix. 4 _. Amiot says this was 'la ville meme ou le Souverain tenoit sa Cour' (Vie de Confucius, p. 147). He is followed of course by Thornton and Pauthier. My reading has not shown me that such was the case. In the notes to K'ang-hsi's edition of the 'Five Ching,' Li Chi, II Sect. I. iii. 4, it is simply said— 'Chung-tu,— the name of a town of Lu. It afterwards belonged to Ch'i when it was called Ping-lu ().'

Just before he received this appointment, a circumstance occurred of which we do not well know what to make. When Yang- hu fled into Ch'i, Kung-shan Fu-zao, who had been confederate with him, continued to maintain an attitude of rebellion, and held the city of Pi against the Chi family. Thence he sent a message to Confucius inviting him to join him, and the Sage seemed so inclined to go that his disciple Tsze-lu remonstrated with him, saying, 'Indeed you cannot go! why must you think of going to see Kung-shan?' Confucius replied, 'Can it be without some reason that he has invited me? If any one employ me, may I not make an eastern Chau [1]?' The upshot, however, was that he did not go, and I cannot suppose that he had ever any serious intention of doing so. Amid the general gravity of his intercourse with his followers, there gleam out a few instances of quiet pleasantry, when he amused himself by playing with their notions about him. This was probably one of them. As magistrate of Chung-tu he produced a marvellous reformation of the manners of the people in a short time. According to the 'Narratives of the School,' he enacted rules for the nourishing of the living and all observances to the dead. Different food was assigned to the old and the young, and different burdens to the strong and the weak. Males and females kept apart from each other in the streets. A thing dropped on the road was not picked up. There was no fraudulent carving of vessels. Inner coffins were made four inches thick, and the outer ones five. Graves were made on the high grounds, no mounds being raised over them, and no trees planted about them. Within twelve months, the princes of the other States all wished to imitate his style of administration [2]. The duke Ting, surprised at what he saw, asked whether his rules could be employed to govern a whole State, and Confucius told him that they might be applied to the whole kingdom. On this the duke appointed him assistant-superintendent of Works [3], in which capacity he surveyed the lands of the State, and made many improvements in agriculture. From this he was quickly made minister of Crime [4], and the appointment was enough to put an end to crime. There was no necessity to put the penal laws in execution. No offenders showed themselves [5].

1 Ana. XVII. v. 2 ay, Bk. I. 3 q. This office, however, was held by the chief of the Mang Family. We must understand that Confucius was only an assistant to him, or perhaps acted for him. 4 jqF. 5 ay, Bk. I.

These indiscriminating eulogies are of little value. One incident, related in the annotations of Tso-shih on the Ch'un-Ch'iu [1], commends itself at once to our belief, as in harmony with Confucius's character. The chief of the Chi, pursuing with his enmity the duke Chao, even after his death, had placed his grave apart from the graves of his predecessors; and Confucius surrounded the ducal cemetery with a ditch so as to include the solitary resting-place, boldly telling the chief that he did it to hide his disloyalty [2]. But he signalized himself most of all in B.C. 500, by his behavior at an interview between the dukes of Lu and Ch'i, at a place called Shih-ch'i [3], and Chia-ku [4], in the present district of Lai-wu, in the department of T'ai-an [5]. Confucius was present as master of ceremonies on the part of Lu, and the meeting was professedly pacific. The two princes were to form a covenant of alliance. The principal officer on the part of Ch'i, however, despising Confucius as 'a man of ceremonies, without courage,' had advised his sovereign to make the duke of Lu a prisoner, and for this purpose a band of the half-savage original inhabitants of the place advanced with weapons to the stage where the two dukes were met. Confucius understood the scheme, and said to the opposite party, 'Our two princes are met for a pacific object. For you to bring a band of savage vassals to disturb the meeting with their weapons, is not the way in which Ch'i can expect to give law to the princes of the kingdom. These barbarians have nothing to do with our Great Flowery land. Such vassals may not interfere with our covenant. Weapons are out of place at such a meeting. As before the spirits, such conduct is unpropitious. In point of virtue, it is contrary to right. As between man and man, it is not polite.' The duke of Ch'i ordered the disturbers off, but Confucius withdrew, carrying the duke of Lu with him. The business proceeded, notwithstanding, and when the words of the alliance were being read on the part of Ch'i,— ' So be it to Lu, if it contribute not 300 chariots of war to the help of Ch'i, when its army goes across its borders,' a messenger from Confucius added, 'And so be it to us, if we obey your orders, unless you return to us the fields on the south of the Wan.' At the conclusion of the ceremonies, the prince of Ch'i wanted to give a grand entertainment, but Confucius demonstrated that such a thing would be

1 , w~. 2 ay, Bk. I. 3 . 4 . 5 w, .

contrary to the established rules of propriety, his real object being to keep his sovereign out of danger. In this way the two parties separated, they of Ch'i filled with shame at being foiled and disgraced by 'the man of ceremonies;' and the result was that the lands of Lu which had been appropriated by Ch'i were restored [1]. For two years more Confucius held the office of minister of Crime. Some have supposed that he was further raised to the dignity of chief minister of the State [2], but that was not the case. One instance of the manner in which he executed his functions is worth recording. When any matter came before him, he took the opinion of different individuals upon it, and in giving judgment would say, 'I decide according to the view of so and so.' There was an approach to our jury system in the plan, Confucius's object being to enlist general sympathy, and carry the public judgment with him in his administration of justice. A father having brought some charge against his son, Confucius kept them both in prison for three months, without making any difference in favour of the father, and then wished to dismiss them both. The head of the Chi was dissatisfied, and said, 'You are playing with me, Sir minister of Crime. Formerly you told me that in a State or a family filial duty was the first thing to be insisted on. What hinders you now from putting to death this unfilial son as an example to all the people?' Confucius with a sigh replied, 'When superiors fail in their duty, and yet go to put their inferiors to death, it is not right. This father has not taught his son to be filial; to listen to his charge would be to slay the guiltless. The manners of the age have been long in a sad condition; we cannot expect the people not to be transgressing the laws [3].' At this time two of his disciples, Tsze-lu and Tsze-yu, entered the employment of the Chi family, and lent their influence, the former especially, to forward the plans of their master. One great cause of disorder in the State was the fortified cities held by the three chiefs, in which they could defy the supreme authority, and were in turn defied themselves by their officers. Those cities were like the castles of the barons of England in the time of the Norman

1 This meeting at Chia-ku is related in Sze-ma Ch'ien, the 'Narratives of the school,' and Ku-liang, with many exaggerations. I have followed , wQ~. 2 The ay says Bk. II, l qF, . But he was a only in the sense of an assistant of ceremonies, as at the meeting in Chia-ku, described above. 3 See the ay, Bk. II.

kings. Confucius had their destruction very much at heart, and partly by the influence of persuasion, and partly by the assisting counsels of Tsze-lu, he accomplished his object in regard to Pi [1], the chief city of the Chi, and Hau [2], the chief city of the Shu. It does not appear that he succeeded in the same way in dismantling Ch'ang [3], the chief city of the Mang [4]; but his authority in the State greatly increased. 'He strengthened the ducal House and weakened the private Families. He exalted the sovereign, and depressed the ministers. A transforming government went abroad. Dishonesty and dissoluteness were ashamed and hid their heads. Loyalty and good faith became the characteristics of the men, and chastity and docility those of the women. Strangers came in crowds from other States [5].' Confucius became the idol of the people, and flew in songs through their mouths [6]. But this sky of bright promise was soon overcast. As the fame of the reformations in Lu went abroad, the neighboring princes began to be afraid. The duke of Ch'i said, 'With Confucius at the head of its government, Lu will become supreme among the States, and Ch'i which is nearest to it will be the first swallowed up. Let us propitiate it by a surrender of territory.' One of his ministers proposed that they should first try to separate between the sage and his sovereign, and to effect this, they hit upon the following scheme. Eighty beautiful girls, with musical and dancing accomplishments, and a hundred and twenty of the finest horses that could be found, were selected, and sent as a present to duke Ting. They were put up at first outside the city, and Chi Hwan having gone in disguise to see them, forgot the lessons of Confucius, and took the duke to look at the bait. They were both captivated. The women were received, and the sage was neglected. For three days the duke gave no audience to his ministers. 'Master,' said Tsze-lu to Confucius, 'it is time for you to be going.' But Confucius was very unwilling to leave. The spring was coming on, when the sacrifice to Heaven would be offered, and he determined to wait and see whether the

1 O. 2 . 3 . 4 In connexion with these events, the 'Narratives of the School' and Sze-ma Ch'ien mention the summary punishment inflicted by Confucius on an able but unscrupulous and insidious officer the Shaou chang, Maou (f). His judgment and death occupy a conspicuous place in the legendary accounts. But the Analects, Tsze-sze, Mencius, and Tso Ch'iu-ming are all silent about it, and Chiang Yung rightly rejects it as one of the many narratives invented to exalt the sage. 5 See the ay, Bk. II. 6 See Ol, quoted by Chiang Yung.

solemnization of that would bring the duke back to his right mind. No such result followed. The ceremony was hurried through, and portions of the offerings were not sent round to the various ministers, according to the established custom. Confucius regretfully took his departure, going away slowly and by easy stages [1]. He would have welcomed a message of recall. But the duke continued in his abandonment, and the sage went forth to thirteen weary years of homeless wandering. 8. On leaving Lu, Confucius first bent his steps westward to the State of Wei, situate about where the present provinces of Chih-li and Ho-nan adjoin.

[Sidebar] He wanders from State to State. B.C. 497-484.

He was now in his fifty-sixth year, and felt depressed and melancholy. As he went along, he gave expression to his feelings in verse:—

'Fain would I still look towards Lu, But this Kwei hill cuts off my view. With an axe, I'd hew the thickets through:— Vain thought! 'gainst the hill I nought can do;'

and again,—

'Through the valley howls the blast, Drizzling rain falls thick and fast. Homeward goes the youthful bride, O'er the wild, crowds by her side. How is it, O azure Heaven, From my home I thus am driven, Through the land my way to trace, With no certain dwelling-place? Dark, dark; the minds of men! Worth in vain comes to their ken. Hastens on my term of years; Old age, desolate, appears [2],'

A number of his disciples accompanied him, and his sadness infected them. When they arrived at the borders of Wei at a place called I, the warden sought an interview, and on coming out from the sage, he tried to comfort the disciples, saying, 'My friends, why are you distressed at your master's loss of office? The world has been long without the principles of truth and right; Heaven is going to use your master as a bell with its wooden tongue [3].' Such was the thought of this friendly stranger. The bell did indeed sound, but few had ears to hear.

1 vO, l@a, p. 5. See also Mencius, V. Pt. II. i. 4.; et al. 2 See Chiang Yung's Life of Confucius, h PC. 3 Ana. III. xxiv.

Confucius's fame, however, had gone before him, and he was in little danger of having to suffer from want. On arriving at the capital of Wei, he lodged at first with a worthy officer, named Yen Ch'au-yu [1]. The reigning duke, known to us by the epithet of Ling [2], was a worthless, dissipated man, but he could not neglect a visitor of such eminence, and soon assigned to Confucius a revenue of 60,000 measures of grain [3]. Here he remained for ten months, and then for some reason left it to go to Ch'an [4]. On the way he had to pass by K'wang [5], a place probably in the present department of K'ai-fung in Ho-nan, which had formerly suffered from Yang-hu. It so happened that Confucius resembled Hu, and the attention of the people being called to him by the movements of his carriage-driver, they thought it was their old enemy, and made an attack upon him. His followers were alarmed, but he was calm, and tried to assure them by declaring his belief that he had a divine mission. He said to them, 'After the death of king Wan, was not the cause of truth lodged here in me? If Heaven had wished to let this cause of truth perish, then I, a future mortal, should not have got such a relation to that cause. While Heaven does not let the cause of truth perish, what can the people of K'wang do to me [6]?' Having escaped from the hands of his assailants, he does not seem to have carried out his purpose of going to Ch'an, but returned to Wei. On the way, he passed a house where he had formerly lodged, and finding that the master was dead, and the funeral ceremonies going on, he went in to condole and weep. When he came out, he told Tsze-kung to take the outside horses from his carriage, and give them as a contribution to the expenses of the occasion. 'You never did such a thing,' Tsze-kung remonstrated, 'at the funeral of any of your disciples; is it not too great a gift on this occasion of the death of an old host?' 'When I went in,' replied Confucius, 'my presence brought a burst of grief from the chief mourner, and I joined him with my tears. I dislike the thought of my tears not being followed by anything. Do it, my child [7].' On reaching Wei, he lodged with Chu Po-yu, an officer of whom

1 CA. See Mencius, V. Pt. I. viii. 2. 2. F. 3 see the vO, l@a, p. 5. 4 . 5. J. 6 Ana. IX. v. In Ana. XI. xxii, there is another reference to this time, in which Yen Hui is made to appear. 7 See the Li Chi, II. Sect. I. ii. 16.

honourable mention is made in the Analects [1]. But this time he did not remain long in the State. The duke was

[Sidebar] B.C. 495.

married to a lady of the house of Sung, known by the name of Nan- tsze, notorious for her intrigues and wickedness. She sought an interview with the sage, which he was obliged unwillingly to accord [2]. No doubt he was innocent of thought or act of evil, but it gave great dissatisfaction to Tsze-lu that his master should have been in company with such a woman, and Confucius, to assure him, swore an oath, saying, 'Wherein I have done improperly, may Heaven reject me! May Heaven reject me [3]!' He could not well abide, however, about such a court. One day the duke rode out through the streets of his capital in the same carriage with Nan-tsze, and made Confucius follow them in another. Perhaps he intended to honour the philosopher, but the people saw the incongruity, and cried out, 'Lust in the front; virtue behind!' Confucius was ashamed, and made the observation, 'I have not seen one who loves virtue as he loves beauty [4].' Wei was no place for him. He left it, and took his way towards Ch'an. Ch'an, which formed part of the present province of Ho-nan, lay south from Wei. After passing the small State of Ts'ao [5], he approached the borders of Sung, occupying the present prefecture of Kwei-teh, and had some intentions of entering it, when an incident occurred, which it is not easy to understand from the meagre style in which it is related, but which gave occasion to a remarkable saying. Confucius was practising ceremonies with his disciples, we are told, under the shade of a large tree. Hwan T'ui, an ill-minded officer of Sung, heard of it, and sent a band of men to pull down the tree, and kill the philosopher, if they could get hold of him. The disciples were much alarmed, but Confucius observed, 'Heaven has produced the virtue that is in me; what can Hwan T'ui do to me [6]?' They all made their escape, but seem to have been driven westwards to the State of Chang [7], on arriving at the gate conducting into which from the east, Confucius found himself separated from his followers. Tsze-kung had arrived before him, and was told by a native of Chang that there was a man standing by the east gate, with a forehead like Yao, a neck like Kao-yao, his shoulders on a level with those of Tsze-ch'an, but wanting, below the waist, three

1 Ana. XIV. xxvi; XV. vi. 2 See the account in the vO, l@a, p. 6. 3 Ana. VI. xxvi. 4 Ana. IX. xvii. 5 . 6 ana. IX. xxii. 7 G.

inches of the height of Yu, and altogether having the disconsolate appearance of a stray dog.' Tsze-kung knew it was the master, hastened to him, and repeated to his great amusement the description which the man had given. 'The bodily appearance,' said Confucius, 'is but a small matter, but to say I was like a stray dog,— capital! capital!' The stay they made at Chang was short, and by the end of B.C. 495, Confucius was in Ch'an. All the next year he remained there, lodging with the warder of the city wall, an officer of worth, of the name of Chang [2], and we have no accounts of him which deserve to be related here [3]. In B.C. 494, Ch'an was much disturbed by attacks from Wu [4], a large State, the capital of which was in the present department of Su-chau, and Confucius determined to retrace his steps to Wei. On the way he was laid hold of at a place called P'u [5], which was held by a rebellious officer against Wei, and before he could get away, he was obliged to engage that he would not proceed thither. Thither, notwithstanding, he continued his route, and when Tsze-kung asked him whether it was right to violate the oath he had taken, he replied, 'It was a forced oath. The spirits do not hear such [6].' 'The duke Ling received him with distinction, but paid no more attention to his lessons than before, and Confucius is said then to have uttered his complaint, 'If there were any of the princes who would employ me, in the course of twelve months I should have done something considerable. In three years the government would be perfected [7].' A circumstance occurred to direct his attention to the State of Tsin [8], which occupied the southern part of the present Shan- hsi, and extended over the Yellow river into Ho-nan. An invitation came to Confucius, like that which he had formerly received from Kung-shan Fu-zao. Pi Hsi, an officer of Tsin, who was holding the town of Chung-mau against his chief, invited him to visit him, and Confucius was inclined to go. Tsze-lu was always the mentor on such occasions. He said to him, 'Master, I have heard you say,

1 See the vO, l@a, p. 6. 2 qsl. See Mencius, V. Pt. I. viii. 3. 3 Chiang Yung digests in this place two foolish stories,— about a large bone found in the State of Yueh, and a bird which appeared in Ch'ia and died, shot through with a remarkable arrow. Confucius knew all about them. 4 d. 5 Z. 6 This ia related by Sze-ma ch'ien l@a, p. 7, and also in the 'Narratives of the School.' I would fain believe it is not true. The wonder is, that no Chinese critic should have set about disproving it. 7 Ana. XII. x. 8 .

that when a man in his own person is guilty of doing evil, a superior man will not associate with him. Pi Hsi is in rebellion; if you go to him, what shall be said?' Confucius replied, 'Yes, I did use those words. But is it not said that if a thing be really hard, it may be ground without being made thin; and if it be really white, it may be steeped in a dark fluid without being made black? Am I a bitter gourd? Am I to be hung up out of the way of being eaten [1]?' These sentiments sound strangely from his lips. After all, he did not go to Pi Hsi; and having travelled as far as the Yellow river that he might see one of the principal ministers of Tsin, he heard of the violent death of two men of worth, and returned to Wei, lamenting the fate which prevented him from crossing the stream, and trying to solace himself with poetry as he had done on leaving Lu. Again did he communicate with the duke, but as ineffectually, and disgusted at being questioned by him about military tactics, he left and went back to Ch'an. He resided in Ch'an all the next year, B.C. 491, without anything occurring there which is worthy of note [2]. Events had transpired in Lu, however, which were to issue in his return to his native State. The duke Ting had deceased B.C. 494, and Chi Hwan, the chief of the Chi family, died in this year. On his death- bed, he felt remorse for his conduct to Confucius, and charged his successor, known to us in the Analects as Chi K'ang, to recall the sage; but the charge was not immediately fulfilled. Chi K'ang, by the advice of one of his officers, sent to Ch'an for the disciple Yen Ch'iu instead. Confucius willingly sent him off, and would gladly have accompanied him. 'Let me return!' he said, 'Let me return [3]!' But that was not to be for several years yet. In B.C. 490, accompanied, as usual, by several of his disciples, he went from Ch'an to Ts'ai, a small dependency of the great fief of Ch'u, which occupied a large part of the present provinces of Hu-nan and Hu-pei. On the way, between Ch'an and Ts'ai, their provisions became exhausted, and they were cut off somehow from obtaining a fresh supply. The disciples were quite overcome with want, and Tsze-lu said to the master, 'Has the superior man indeed to endure in this way?' Confucius answered him, 'The superior man may indeed have to endure want; but the mean man

l Ana. XVII. vii. 2 Tso Ch'iu-ming, indeed, relates a story of Confucius, on the report of a fire in Lu, telling whose ancestral temple had been destroyed by it. 3 Ana. V. xxi.

when he is in want, gives way to unbridled license [1].' According to the 'Narratives of the School,' the distress continued seven days, during which time Confucius retained his equanimity, and was even cheerful, playing on his lute and singing [2]. He retained, however, a strong impression of the perils of the season, and we find him afterwards recurring to it, and lamenting that of the friends that were with him in Ch'an and Ts'ai, there were none remaining to enter his door [3]. Escaped from this strait, he remained in Ts'ai over B.C. 489, and in the following year we find him in Sheh, another district of Ch'u, the chief of which had taken the title of duke, according to the usurping policy of that State. Puzzled about his visitor, he asked Tsze-lu what he should think of him, but the disciple did not venture a reply. When Confucius heard of it, he said to Tsze- lu. 'Why did you not say to him:— He is simply a man who in his eager pursuit of knowledge forgets his food, who in the joy of its attainment forgets his sorrows, and who does not perceive that old age is coming on [4]?' Subsequently, the duke, in conversation with Confucius, asked him about government, and got the reply, dictated by some circumstances of which we are ignorant, 'Good government obtains, when those who are near are made happy, and those who are far off are attracted [5]' After a short stay in Sheh, according to Sze-ma Ch'ien, he returned to Ts'ai, and having to dross a river, he sent Tsze-lu to inquire for the ford of two men who were at work in a neighboring field. They were recluses, men who had withdrawn from public life in disgust at the waywardness of the times. One of them was called Ch'ang-tsu, and instead of giving Tsze-lu the information he wanted, he asked him, 'Who is it that holds the reins in the carriage there?' 'It is K'ung Ch'iu.' 'K'ung Ch'iu of Lu?' 'Yes,' was the reply, and then the man rejoined, 'He knows the ford.' Tsze-lu applied to the other, who was called Chieh-ni, but got for answer the question, 'Who are you, Sir?' He replied, 'I am Chung Yu.' 'Chung Yu, who is the disciple of K'ung Ch'iu of Lu?' 'Yes,' again replied Tsze-lu, and Chieh-ni said to him, 'Disorder, like a swelling flood, spreads over the whole kingdom,