THE SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS (continued 2)

The Master said: There are none who know me for what I am.—Tzŭ Kung said: How is it, Sir, that none know you?—The Master replied: I make no complaint against Heaven, neither do I blame my fellow-men. In the study of virtue I begin at the bottom and tend upwards.[15] Surely Heaven knows me for what I am.

Tz‘ŭ, do you look upon me as a man who has studied and retained a mass of various knowledge?—I do, he replied. Am I wrong?—You are wrong, said the Master. All my knowledge is strung on one connecting thread.[16]

I used to spend whole days without food and whole nights without sleep, in order to meditate.

But I made no progress. Study, I found, was better.

Pi Hsi[17] sent an invitation to Confucius, and the Master wished to go. Tzŭ Lu, however, said: Once upon a time, Sir, I heard you say that the nobler sort of man would not enter into intimacy with one who laid himself out to do wrong. Now Pi Hsi has raised the standard of rebellion in Chung-mou. How can you think of going thither?—True, replied the Master. Those were my words. But is there not a saying: "The hard may be rubbed without losing its substance; the white may be steeped without losing its purity"? Am I then a bitter gourd—fit only to be hung up and not eaten?

MISCELLANEOUS SAYINGS

The Master said: To learn, and to practise on occasion what one has learnt—is this not true pleasure? The coming of a friend from a far-off land—is this not true joy?

Make conscientiousness and sincerity your grand object. Have no friends not equal to yourself. If you have done wrong, be not ashamed to make amends.

Observe the bent of a man's will when his father is alive, and his actions after his father is dead. If during the three years of mourning he does not swerve from his father's principles, he may be pronounced a truly filial son.

The Odes[1] are three hundred in number, but their purport may be summed up in a word:—Have no depraved thoughts.

Observe a man's actions; scrutinise his motives; take note of the things that give him pleasure. How then can he hide from you what he really is?

Acquire new knowledge whilst thinking over the old, and you may become a teacher of others.

The higher type of man is not like a vessel which is designed for some Special use.[2]

Study without thought is vain; thought without study is perilous.

Absorption in the study of the supernatural is most harmful.

Yu, shall I tell you what true knowledge is? When you know, to know that you know, and when you do not know, to know that you do not know—that is true knowledge.

Tzŭ Chang was studying with a view to official preferment. The Master said to him: Among the various things you hear said, reserve your judgment on those which seem doubtful, and give cautious utterance to the rest: then you will seldom fall into error. Among the various things you see done, set aside those which seem dangerous, and cautiously put the others into practice: then you will seldom have occasion for repentance. If you seldom err in your speech, and seldom have to repent of your actions, official preferment will come of itself.

The Master said: I do not see how a man without sincerity can be good for anything. How can a cart or carriage be made to go without yoke or cross-bar?

To sacrifice to a spirit with which you have nothing to do, is mere servility.

To shirk your duty when you see it before you, shows want of moral courage.

Some one inquired as to the meaning of the Great Sacrifice. The Master said: I do not know. He who knew its meaning would find it as easy to govern the Empire as to look upon this (pointing to his palm).[3]

Wang-sun Chia[4] asked, saying: What means the adage, "Better be civil to the kitchen-god than to the god of the inner sanctum"?—The Master replied: The adage is false. He who sins against Heaven can rely on the intercession of none.

The Master said: He who serves his prince with all the proper ceremony will be accounted by men a flatterer.

It is bootless to discuss accomplished facts, to protest against things past remedy, to find fault with things bygone.

How am I to regard one who has rank without liberality, who performs ceremonies without reverence, who approaches the rites of mourning without sorrow?

Men's faults are characteristic.[5] It is by observing a man's faults that one may come to know his virtues.

Having heard the True Way in the morning what matters it if one should come to die at night?

The scholar who is bent on studying the principles of virtue, yet is ashamed of bad clothes and coarse food, is not yet fit to receive instruction.

Instead of being concerned that you have no office, be concerned to think how you may fit yourself for office. Instead of being concerned that you are not known, seek to be worthy of being known.

When you see a good man, think of emulating him; when you see a bad man, examine your own heart.

The ancients hesitated to give their thoughts utterance: they were afraid that their actions might not be equal to their words.

Few are those who err on the side of self-restraint.[6]

Virtue cannot live in solitude: neighbours are sure to grow up around it.[7]

Chi Wên Tzŭ[8] used to reflect thrice before he acted. When told of this, the Master said: Twice would do.

The Master said: Alas! I have never met a man who could see his own faults and arraign himself at the bar of his own conscience.

Tzŭ Hua having been sent on a mission to the Ch‘i State, Jan Ch‘iu begged for a gift of grain for his mother. The Master said: Give her a peck.—The disciple asking for more, he said:

Give her then a bushel.—But Jan Ch‘iu eventually gave her as much as five hundredweight of grain. Then the Master rebuked him, saying: When Ch‘ih went to the Ch‘i State, he was conveyed by a team of sleek horses and was wearing costly fur garments. Now I have heard that the princely man succours the distressed, but will not add to the opulence of the wealthy.

Yüan Ssŭ, having been made governor of a district, was presented with nine hundred measures of grain.[9] He declined them. The Master said: Do not decline them. May they not be distributed among the villages and townships of your neighbourhood?

The Master said: Who can go out of a house except by the door? In life, why not pass likewise through the door of virtue?[10]

You may speak of higher subjects to those who rise above the average level of mankind, but not to those who fall below it.

With coarse food to eat, water to drink, and the bended arm as a pillow, happiness may still exist. Wealth and rank unrighteously obtained seem to me as insubstantial as floating clouds.

The inhabitants of Hu-hsiang were unconversable people, and when a young man from those parts came to see Confucius, the disciples hesitated to let him in. But the Master said: When a man comes to me, I accept him at his best, not at his worst. Why make so much ado? When a man washes his hands before paying a visit, and you receive him in that clean state, you do not thereby stand surety for his always having been clean in the past.

The Master said: Is virtue then so remote? I have only to show a desire for virtue, and lo! it is here.

The Master said: Prodigality begets arrogance,[11] parsimony begets niggardliness. But it is better to be niggardly than arrogant.

Without due self-restraint,[12] courtesy becomes oppressive, prudence degenerates into timidity, valour into violence, and candour into rudeness.

Love of daring and dread of poverty lead to sedition. The man without natural virtue, if pursued by the hatred of society, will become a desperado.

If a man is proud and avaricious, though his other qualities may embrace all that was fine in the character of Chou Kung, they are not worth taking into account.

It is not easy to find a man who after three years of self-cultivation[13] has not reached happiness.

He who is out of office should not meddle in the government.

Hot-headedness without honesty; ignorance without ingenuousness; simplicity without sincerity:—such characters I do not understand.[14]

Pursue the study of virtue as though you could never reach your goal, and were afraid of losing the ground already gained.

The Master said: I have not met one whose love of virtue was equal to his love of sensual beauty.

Though in making a mound I should stop when but one more basketful of earth would complete it, the fact remains that I have stopped. On the other hand, if in levelling it to the ground I advance my work by but one basketful at a time, the fact remains that I am advancing.[15]

Alas! there are sprouting crops which never come into ear. There are others which, having come into ear, never ripen into grain.

We ought to have a wholesome respect for our juniors. Who knows but that by-and-by they may prove themselves equal to the men of to-day? It is only when they reach the age of forty or fifty without distinguishing themselves that we need no longer be afraid of them.

Words of just admonition cannot fail to command a ready assent. But practical reformation is the thing that really matters. Words of kindly advice cannot fail to please the listener. But subsequent meditation on them is the thing that really matters. I can make nothing of the man who is pleased with advice but will not meditate on it, who assents to admonition but does not reform.

A great army may be robbed of its leader, but nothing can rob one poor man of his will.

It is only when the cold season comes that we know the pine and cypress to be evergreens.[16] Let a pupil join with you in self-cultivation before you let him approach the general truths of philosophy, but let him approach these general truths before he is allowed to form his character for good. He should have formed his character for good before he is allowed to make exceptions to a general rule.

When Yen Yüan died, the Master said: Alas! God has forsaken me, God has forsaken me!

On the death of Yen Yüan, the disciples wanted to give him a sumptuous funeral, but the Master said, Better not.[17] Nevertheless, the disciples did give him a sumptuous funeral, whereupon the Master said: Hui looked upon me as his father, yet I have not been able to treat him as my son. The fault is not in me, but in you, my disciples.

Chi Lu inquired concerning men's duty to spirits. The Master replied: Before we are able to do our duty by the living, how can we do it by the spirits of the dead?—Chi Lu went on to inquire about death. The Master said: Before we know what life is, how can we know what death is?

Tzŭ Chang asked a question about clearness of mental vision. The Master said: He whose mind is proof against the slow-soaking poison of slander and the sharp stings of calumny, may be called clear-sighted, and far-seeing as well.

The Master said: A man may know the three hundred odes by heart, but if he proves himself incapable when given a post in the government, or cannot make a speech unaided when sent on a foreign mission, of what use to him is all his learning?

Tzŭ Kung asked, saying: What may be said of a man who is beloved by all his fellow-townsmen?—The Master replied: That is not enough to go upon.—What of one who is hated by all his fellow-townsmen?—The Master replied: Neither is that enough to go upon. It would be otherwise if, among his fellow-townsmen, the good loved him and the wicked hated him.

The Master said: A good man must have trained the people for seven years before they are fit to go to war.

To take an untrained multitude into battle is equivalent to throwing them away.

In a well-governed country, speak boldly and act boldly. In a country where lawlessness prevails, let your actions be bold but your speech tactful.

It is harder to be poor without murmuring, than to be rich without arrogance.

The men of olden times who studied virtue had only their own improvement in view; those who study it now have an eye to the applause of others.

Refusal to instruct one who is competent to learn entails the waste of a man. Instruction of one who is incompetent to learn entails waste of words. The wise man is he who wastes neither men nor words.

Those whose care extends not far ahead will find their troubles near at hand.

He who requires much from himself and little from others will be secure from hatred.

If a man is not in the habit of asking, "What do you make of this? what do you make of that?" I can make nothing of him.

Hopeless indeed is the case of those who can herd together all day long without once letting their conversation reach a higher plane,[18] but are content to bandy smart and shallow wit.

When a man is generally detested, or when he is generally beloved, closer examination is necessary.[19]

It is the man that is able to develop his virtue, not virtue that develops the man.[20]

The real fault is to have faults and not try to amend them.

Where there is education, there is no distinction of class.

Men who differ in their principles cannot help each other in their plans.

If language is lucid, that is enough.

There are three errors to be avoided in the presence of a great man. The first is precipitancy—speaking before it is your turn to speak; the second is bashfulness—not speaking when your turn comes; and the third is heedlessness—speaking without observing the countenance of the listener.

There are three impulses against which the nobler sort of man is on his guard. In the period of youth, when the heyday in the blood has not yet subsided, he guards against lustfulness; in the prime of life, when the physical frame is vigorous and strong, he guards against pugnacity; in old age, when the vital forces are in their decline, he guards against the greed of gain.[21]

The highest class of men are they whose knowledge is innate; next to these are they whose knowledge is acquired by study[22]; after them come those who are dull-witted, yet strive to learn; while those who are dull-witted and will make no effort to learn are the lowest of the people.

"When you see the good, act as though you could never quite come up with it; when you are brought face to face with evil, act as though you were trying the heat of boiling water":— I have heard some such saying as this, and I have seen men live up to it. "Dwell in retirement, in order to work out your aims; practise righteousness, in order to apprehend the Truth":—such a saying I have heard, but I have never seen a man live up to it.[23]

Men's natures are alike; it is their habits that carry them far apart.

Only two classes of men never change: the wisest of the wise and the dullest of the dull.

Speaking to Tzŭ Lu, the Master said: Have you ever heard, Yu, of the six shadows which attend six several virtues?—No, he replied.—Sit down, then, and I will tell you. Love of goodness without the will to learn[24] casts the shadow called foolishness. Love of knowledge without the will to learn casts the shadow called instability. Love of truth without the will to learn casts the shadow called insensibility. Love of candour without the will to learn casts the shadow called rudeness. Love of daring without the will to learn casts the shadow called turbulence. Love of firmness without the will to learn casts the shadow called eccentricity.

Ceremonies, forsooth! Can ceremonies be reduced to a mere matter of silken robes and jade ornaments? Music, forsooth! Can music be reduced to a mere matter of bells and drums?[25] Men who are grave and stern in appearance, but inwardly weak and unprincipled—are they not comparable to the lowest class of humanity—sneaking thieves that break into houses by night?

Your goody-goody people are the thieves of virtue.

The Master said: Would that I could do without speaking!—Tzŭ Kung said: If our Master never spoke, how could we, his disciples, transmit his doctrines?—The Master replied: Does God speak? The four seasons hold on their course, and all things continue to live and grow. Yet, tell me, does God speak?

Girls and servants are the most difficult people to handle. If you treat them familiarly, they become disrespectful; if you keep them at a distance, they resent it.

PERSONALIA

In his moments of leisure, the Master's manner was uniformly cheerful and smiling.

If the Master happened to be dining beside one who was in mourning for his parents, he never ate a full meal. He never sang on any day in the course of which he had been bewailing a death.

The Master would never talk about prodigies, feats of strength, crime, or supernatural beings.[1]

The Master made four things the subject of his teaching: a knowledge of literature and the arts, conduct, conscientiousness and truthfulness.[2]

The Master fished with a line but not with a net. When he went out with bow and arrow, he only shot at birds on the wing.

If the Master happened to be with singers, and they sang a piece well, he would get them to repeat it, when he would also join in the song himself.

The Master was affable, yet grave; stern, but not fierce; attentive in his behaviour, and yet calm.

The Master seldom spoke of money-making, of the laws of Providence, or of moral virtue.[3]

There were four words of which the Master barred the use: he would have no "shall's," no "must's," no "certainly's," no "I's".[4]

Whenever the Master saw a person in mourning, or in official robes, or one who was blind, he would at once rise from his seat, even though the other were his junior; or if he passed them in the street, he would quicken his step.[5]

Once when the Master was lying seriously ill, Tzŭ Lu got the disciples to act the part of Ministers of State.[6] In an interval of his sickness, Confucius said: What a long time Yu has been keeping up this imposture! In pretending to have ministers attendant on me when I have none, whom am I deceiving? Am I deceiving God? But apart from that, is it not better that I should breathe my last in the arms of my disciples, than that I should die in the midst of officials? And after all, though I may not be accorded the honour of a public funeral, I am not dying out on the high road.

The Master wished to settle among the nine eastern tribes. Some one said: How can you? They are savages.—The Master replied: If a higher type of man dwelt in their midst, how could their savage condition last?

Confucius in his native village was simple and unassuming. He gave the impression of being no great speaker. In the ancestral temple and at Court he spoke fluently, but with a certain reserve.

At Court, he spoke to the ministers of lower rank with frankness and affability. To those of higher rank he spoke quietly, but with decision. In the presence of his Sovereign, he seemed full of awe, but at the same time grave and collected.

When employed by the Prince in the reception of distinguished visitors, his expression would change, and his legs seemed to bend under him. Standing in the presence of the visitors, he saluted them with clasped hands, turning about from right to left, and keeping the skirt of his robe properly adjusted, back and front. He then hastened forward with arms extended like the wings of a bird. When a visitor departed, he would report in that sense to the Prince, saying: "The visitor is not looking back."[7]

When he entered the gate of the palace, he seemed to bend his body as though the gate were not large enough to let him pass. He did not stand in the middle of the doorway, nor in passing through did he set foot on the threshold. When he passed the Prince's throne, his expression seemed to change, his legs seemed to bend under him, and words seemed to fail him. Holding up his robe with both hands, he ascended the dais, his body slightly bent, and holding his breath as though he dared not breathe. When he came out from his audience and had descended the first step, his countenance lost its anxious expression, and he looked serene and happy. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he hastened away with his arms outstretched like wings; but when he got back to his place, he still seemed full of awe.

He carried the Prince's regalia with body slightly bent, as though he could hardly support its weight; he raised it to the height of his head, and lowered it again to the height of his chest. His countenance indicated nervousness, and he dragged his feet as though something held them to the ground.

In offering presents as an ambassador, his appearance was sedate.

At a private audience, he wore a pleased look.

He would not eat meat that was clumsily cut, or served without its proper sauce. Although there might be an abundance of meat, he never let it exceed in quantity the vegetable food. In wine alone he laid down for himself no particular limit, but he never reached the stage of intoxication. He took ginger at every meal. He did not eat much. When eating, he did not converse; when in bed, he did not speak. Even though he had nothing but coarse rice and vegetable soup, he would always reverently offer some to the ancestral spirits.

He would not sit on a mat[8] that was placed awry.

On one occasion, Chi K‘ang Tzŭ having sent him some medicine, he bowed as he received it, saying: Not being familiar with this drug, I would not venture to try it.

His stables having been burnt down, the Master on his return from the Court said: Has any one been hurt?—He did not ask about the horses.[9]

If the Prince sent him a present of cooked meat, he would sit down to taste it on a properly placed mat. If the Prince sent him a present of raw meat, he would have it cooked and offer it in sacrifice. If the Prince sent him a live animal, he would keep it alive.

When the Prince summoned him to his presence, he would go on foot without waiting for his carriage.

If any of his friends died who was without a home or relations, he would say: I will see to the funeral.

In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. In his home life, his manner was not too formal.

At the sight of a person in mourning, though it might be an intimate acquaintance, he would always look grave. On meeting an official in uniform, or a blind man, however ragged, he would always show him some mark of respect.

When a rich banquet was set before him, he would show his appreciation in his looks, and rise to return thanks.

He would change countenance at a thunderclap or a sudden squall of wind.

When in his carriage, he would not look behind him, talk rapidly, or point with his finger.[10]

Duke Ling of Wei asked Confucius about the disposition of troops in warfare. Confucius answered: I know something about the arts of peace,[11] but I have never studied the art of war. And on the morrow he departed. But when he came to the State of Ch‘ên, he was cut off from supplies,[12] and his followers were so enfeebled that they could hardly stand. Tzŭ Lu indignantly sought the Master's presence, saying: Is it for the princely man to feel the pinch of privation?—The Master replied: Assuredly privation may come his way, but it is only the baser type of man who under it grows demoralised and reckless.

Mien, a blind musician,[13] having called on Confucius, the Master said to him when he came to a flight of steps: "Here are the steps"; and when he came to the mat which was spread for him: "Here is your mat." When all the visitors were seated, the Master told him who they were, saying: So-and-so is sitting here, so-and-so is sitting there. After Mien had gone, Tzŭ Chang asked, saying: Is it the proper thing to speak thus to a musician?—The Master replied: Assuredly it is right to give this help to a blind man.

The people of Ch‘i sent a band of singing-girls as a present to the Duke of Lu, and Chi Huan Tzŭ accepted the gift. For three days after that no Court was held, and Confucius departed.[14]

CONFUCIUS AS SEEN BY OTHERS

Tzŭ Ch‘in asked Tzŭ Kung, saying: Whenever our Master comes to any new country, he is sure to find out all about its method of government. Does he seek this information himself, or is it voluntarily proffered?—Tzŭ Kung replied: Our Master gains his information because he is so genial and good, so full of deference, modesty and regard for others. In seeking information, how differently does he behave from ordinary men!

The Master having gone up into the Grand Temple, asked questions about everything. Some one remarked: Who says that the son of the citizen of Tsou has any knowledge of ceremonial observances? He comes to the Temple and asks about everything he sees.—Hearing the remark, the Master said: This in itself is a ceremonial observance.

The prefect of the frontier in the town of I[1] asked to be introduced to Confucius, saying: I have never failed to obtain an audience of any sage who has visited these parts.—He was thereupon introduced by the Master's followers, and on coming out he said: My sons, why grieve at your Master's fall from power? The Empire has long been lying in evil ways, but now God is going to make Confucius his herald to rouse the land.[2]

The Master said: Shên, a single principle runs through all my teaching.[3]—Tsêng Tzŭ answered, Yes.—When the Master had gone out, the disciples asked, saying: What principle does he mean?—Tsêng Tzŭ said: Our Master's teaching simply amounts to this: loyalty to oneself and charity to one's neighbour.[4]

Yen Yüan heaved a deep sigh and said: The more I look at our Master's teaching, the higher it seems. The more I test it, the more reliable it appears. I am gazing at it in front of me, when lo! it is suddenly behind me. Our Master knows how to draw men after him by regular steps. He broadens our outlook by means of polite learning, and restrains our impulses by means of inward self-control. Even if I wished to stop, I could not do so; yet after I have exhausted all my efforts in pursuit of the goal, there still remains something inaccessible rising up beyond; and though I would fain make towards it, I cannot find the way.

Tzŭ Lu once passed the night in Shih-men, where the gate-keeper said to him: Where do you come from?—Tzŭ Lu replied: From the school of Confucius.—Oh, is he not the man, said the other, who is trying to do what he knows to be impossible?[5]

Ch‘ên K‘ang asked Po Yu,[6] saying: Have you ever received any secret teaching from your father?—He replied: No. But once, when I was passing hurriedly through our hall, I met my father standing alone, and he said: Have you studied the Odes?—I replied, Not yet.—He said: If you do not study the Odes, you will have no conversation.—Thereupon I withdrew and studied the Odes. Another day I met him again standing alone as I hastened through the hall, and he said: Have you studied the Book of Rites?[7]—I replied: Not yet.—He said: If you do not study the Book of Rites, you will have no stability of character.—I withdrew and studied the Book of Rites. These are the two pieces of instruction I have received.—Ch‘ên K‘ang went away rejoicing and said: I asked about one thing and have learned three—something thing about the Odes, something about the Rites, and also that the higher type of man has no secrets even with his own son.

Yang Huo wished to have an interview with Confucius, but Confucius would not go to see him. He therefore sent Confucius a sucking-pig as a present.[8] Confucius, however, chose a time when the other was out, to go and pay his respects. But he happened to fall in with him on the road. Thereupon Yang Huo addressed Confucius, saying: Come with me. I have something to say to you. Can he be called truly benevolent, who hugs his jewel to his bosom and allows his country to drift into confusion?—He cannot, was the reply.—Can he be called truly wise, who wishes to engage in public affairs, yet loses several opportunities of doing so?—He cannot.—Well, rejoined Yang Huo, the days and months are fleeting by, and the years will not wait for us.—True, replied Confucius; I will presently take office.[9]

The eccentric Chieh Yü[10] of the Ch‘u State passed Confucius' carriage, singing: O phœnix! O phœnix! How has thy virtue fallen! The past need no longer be a subject of reproof, but against the future it is still possible to provide. Desist, desist! Great is the danger of those who now engage in government.—Confucius alighted, wishing to speak with him, but Chieh Yu hastened rapidly away, and he was unable to get speech of him.

Ch‘ang Chü and Chieh Ni[11] were working together in the fields when Confucius passed by and sent Tzŭ Lu to ascertain from them the whereabouts of the ford. Ch‘ang Chü asked: Who is that man holding the reins?—That is Confucius, replied Tzŭ Lu.—Is it Confucius of the Lu State?—Yes.—Then surely he is the man to know where the ford is.[12]—Tzŭ Lu then questioned Chieh Ni. Chieh Ni said: Who are you, Sir?—I am Chung Yu.—Are you a disciple of Confucius of the Lu State?—He replied: I am.—The whole Empire, said Chieh Ni, is rushing head-long to destruction, and who is there that will reform it? As for you, instead of following a man who withdraws from prince after prince in succession, would it not be better to follow a man who has withdrawn from the world altogether?—And he went on hoeing without a pause. Tzŭ Lu went back and reported these remarks, whereupon the Master looked surprised and said: We cannot join the company of birds and beasts. If I am not to associate with these men of the ruling class, with whom am I to associate?[13] If right principles prevailed in the Empire, then indeed there would be no need for me to reform it.

Shu-sun Wu-shu,[14] speaking to the ministers at Court, said: Tzŭ Kung is a greater sage than Confucius.—Tzŭ-fu Ching-po[15] repeated this to Tzŭ Kung, who said: Let me use the simile of a house surrounded by a wall. My wall rises only to the height of a man's shoulders, so that any one can look over and see the excellence of the building within. But my Master's wall is many fathoms in height, so that one who fails to find the gate of entry cannot see the beauties of the temple nor the rich apparel of the officiating priests. It may be that only a few will succeed in finding the gate. Need we, then, be surprised at His Excellency's remark?

Shu-sun Wu-shu was disparaging Confucius. Tzŭ Kung said: It is no good. Confucius is proof against detraction. The wisdom of other men is like hills and mountain-peaks, which however high can still be scaled. But Confucius is like the sun or the moon, which can never be reached by the foot of man. A man may want to cut himself off from their light, but what harm will that do to the sun or the moon? It only shows very plainly that he has no notion of the measurement of capacity.

SAYINGS OF THE DISCIPLES

Yu Tzŭ said: It is seldom that good sons and brothers are given to insubordinate conduct. That those who dislike insubordinate conduct should be ready to foment sedition, is something absolutely unknown. The wise man attends to the root; for if this be properly set, virtue will spring from it. And what is the root of all goodness but filial piety and fraternal love?

Tsêng Tzŭ said: There are three points on which I daily examine myself:—Have I been conscientious in working for others? Have I been truthful in my intercourse with my friends? Have I practised what I preach?

Tzŭ Hsia said: The man who can appreciate moral worth and disengage his mind from sensual passion; who can put forth his utmost strength to serve his parents, and lay down his life to serve his prince; who speaks sincerely in his intercourse with friends:—such a man, though the world may call him untaught, has in my opinion received the best and highest education.

Tzŭ Kung said: What do you say of the poor man who refuses to flatter, and of the rich man who is free from pride?—They are well enough, replied the Master; but better still is the poor man who is cheerful, and the rich man who cherishes the inner principle of harmony and self-control.—Tzŭ Kung said: One must "cut and then carve, chisel and then polish," as the Odes have it. Does not this passage illustrate what you say?—The Master exclaimed: Here is somebody at last with whom I can really discuss the Odes. Refer him to any old verse, and he will see its application.[1]

Tzŭ Hsia asked, saying: What is the meaning of the passage:

"What dimples in her witching smile! What lovely eyes, clear white and black! Simplicity sets off her ornaments"?

The Master replied: You must have a plain background before you can lay on the colours.—Rules of ceremony then require a background?—Ah! exclaimed the Master, Shang always seizes my drift. Here at any rate is some one with whom I can discuss the Odes.[2]

Tzŭ Yu said: Too much fault-finding with princes entails disgrace; with friends, it brings estrangement.

The Master wanted to employ Ch'i-tiao K'ai in the business of government, but the latter said: No, I cannot yet sufficiently trust myself.—The Master was pleased with the reply.

Once when Yen Yüan and Chi Lu were standing by, the Master said: Come, tell me, each of you, the wish of your hearts.—Tzŭ Lu said: I should like to have carriages and horses and fine fur garments, and share them with my friends; nor would I mind if they were worn out in this way.— Yen Yüan said: My wish is to make no parade of goodness and no display of toilsome service rendered.[3]—Tzŭ Lu then said: I should like, Sir, to hear your own wishes. The Master said: To comfort the aged, to win the confidence of my friends, to love and cherish the young.

The Master said: Yung might well be made a prince.[4] Chung Kung asked a question about Tzŭ-sang Po-tzŭ. The Master replied: He is a good man on the whole, though easy-going.—Chung Kung rejoined: Is it not excusable for a man who is strict in his own habits to be easy-going in dealing with the people under him? But if he becomes easy-going in his own habits as well as in his practice abroad, this is surely too much of a good thing.—The Master said: Yung's words are true.

Jan Yu asked: Is our Master for or against the Prince of Wei?[5]—Oh, said Tzŭ Kung, I will ask him that.—He went in and said: What sort of men were Po I and Shu Ch'i?[6]—They were two ancient worthies, was the reply.—Did they ever repine? he asked.—They made perfect virtue their aim, and they attained it. Why then should they repine?—Tzŭ Kung went out again and said: Our Master is not for the Prince.

Tsêng Tzŭ said: Ability asking instruction of incompetence, abundance sitting at the feet of insufficiency, a man of every virtue who thought he had none, solid in character yet making himself out a cypher, trespassed against but never retaliating—such was the humble state of mind in which my late friend[7] spent his life.

Tsêng Tzŭ said: If a man can safely be entrusted with the care of a young orphan prince, or with the government of a large province, and if the approach of a great emergency cannot shake his resolution, is he not a man of the princely type? Of the princely type he is indeed!

The authorities of Lu were proposing to reconstruct the Long Treasury. Min Tzŭ-ch‘ien said: Why not restore it, rather, in the ancient style? Why is it necessary to renovate it altogether?—The Master said: This man is no talker, but when he does speak, he speaks to the purpose.

Ssŭ-ma Niu lamenting said: All other men have brothers; I alone have none.—Tzŭ Hsia said to him: I have heard it said that life and death are divine dispensations, that wealth and rank depend on the will of God. The higher type of man is unfailingly attentive to his own conduct, and shows respect and true courtesy to others. Thus all within the four seas[8] are his brethren. How then should he grieve at having no brothers?

Chi Tzŭ-ch‘êng[9] said: The higher type of man is possessed of solid qualities, and that is all. What has he to do with the ornamental?—Tzŭ Kung replied: I am sorry, Sir, to hear you say such a thing about the higher type of man; for a four-horse chariot cannot overtake the spoken word.[10] The value of the ornament and the value of the substance are closely connected. Stripped of hair, the hide of a tiger or a leopard is very like the hide of a dog or a sheep.

Duke Ai asked Yu Jo, saying: It has been a year of famine. My exchequer is Low. What am I to do?—Yu Jo replied: Why not collect tithes?—Why, said the Duke, with a tax of two-tenths I still have not enough. How am I to make one-tenth do?—If the people have plenty, was the reply, how can the Prince alone be in want? But if the people are in want, how can the Prince alone have plenty?[11]

Tsêng Tzŭ said of the higher type of man that his culture tended to bring him into communion with friends, and his friendships tended to heighten his altruism.

The disciples of Tzŭ Hsia asked Tzŭ Chang about the principles which should govern friendship. Tzŭ Chang said: What is Tzŭ Hsia's opinion?—They replied: Tzŭ Hsia says, Associate with those who come up to your standard; reject all those who do not.—This, said Tzŭ Chang, is different from what I have been taught. The nobler sort of man honours the virtuous and wise, but he admits to his society all men without distinction. He admires the good, but he also pities the weaker brethren. Am I a man of great wisdom and goodness?—then who is there among my fellow-men that I will not bear with? Or am I neither wise nor good?—then other men will reject me. How can one justify this rejection of others?[12]

Tzŭ Hsia said: The inferior type of man always tries to gloss over his faults.

Tzŭ Hsia said: The wise man will gain the confidence of the people before laying burdens upon them; otherwise, they will consider it oppression. He will gain the confidence of his sovereign before censuring his actions; otherwise, the latter will consider it mere libel and abuse.

Tzŭ Hsia said: He who does not transgress the larger principles of virtuous conduct may be excused for disregarding the boundary line in matters of smaller import.

Tzŭ Yu said: The followers and disciples of Tzŭ Hsia are trained well enough in sprinkling and sweeping the floor, in responding and answering questions, in entering and leaving a room. But these are mere accessories. Of fundamentals they are totally ignorant. How can this be considered enough?—Tzŭ Hsia, hearing of these remarks, said: Ah! Yen Yu is mistaken. It is not the way of the wise teacher to distinguish between subjects of first-class importance, which must be taught, and subjects of secondary importance, which may be neglected. He cultivates minds just as he would cultivate plants, each species requiring separate treatment. It cannot be the wise man's way to produce confusion and error. He only is inspired who teaches methodically, having a beginning and an end.

Tzŭ Yu said: Let the official who has time to spare devote it to study; let the student who has time to spare devote it to public affairs.

Tzŭ Yu said: The rites of mourning should not extend beyond the expression of heartfelt grief.

The chief of the Mêng family having appointed Yang Fu to be Criminal Judge, the latter went to Tsêng Tzŭ for advice. Tsêng Tzŭ said: Our rulers have lost their way, and the people have long been scattered and distracted. When you discover the facts of a crime, be not moved with joy but rather with pity and grief.

Tzŭ Kung said: The mistakes of a great and good man are like eclipses of the sun and moon: his failing is seen by all, and when he repairs it, all look up to him with awe.