of an interview between the dukes of Loo and T'se, at which Confucius
was present as master of ceremonies. At his instigation, an altar was
raised at the place of meeting, which was mounted by three steps, and on
this the dukes ascended, and having pledged one another proceeded to
discuss a treaty of alliance. But treachery was intended on the part of
the duke of T'se, and at a given signal a band of savages advanced with
beat of drum to carry off the duke of Loo. Some such stratagem had been
considered probable by Confucius, and the instant the danger became
imminent he rushed to the altar and led away the duke. After much
disorder, in which Confucius took a firm and prominent part, a treaty
was concluded, and even some land on the south of the river Wan, which
had been taken by T'se, was by the exertions of the Sage restored to
Loo. On this recovered territory the people of Loo, in memory of the
circumstance, built a city and called it, "The City of Confession."
But to return to Confucius as the Minister of Crime.
Though eminently successful, the results obtained under his system were
not quite such as his followers have represented them to have been. No
doubt crime diminished under his rule, but it was by no means abolished.
In fact, his biographers mention a case which must have been peculiarly
shocking to him. A father brought an accusation against his son, in the
expectation, probably, of gaining his suit with ease before a judge who
laid such stress on the virtues of filial piety. But to his surprise,
and that of the on-lookers, Confucius cast both father and son into
prison, and to the remonstrances of the head of the Ke clan answered,
"Am I to punish for a breach of filial piety one who has never been
taught to be filially minded? Is not he who neglects to teach his son
his duties, equally guilty with the son who fails in them? Crime is not
inherent in human nature, and therefore the father in the family, and
the government in the state, are responsible for the crimes committed
against filial piety and the public laws. If a king is careless about
publishing laws, and then peremptorily punishes in accordance with the
strict letter of them, he acts the part of a swindler; if he collect the
taxes arbitrarily without giving warning, he is guilty of oppression;
and if he puts the people to death without having instructed them, he
commits a cruelty."
On all these points Confucius frequently insisted, and strove both by
precept and example to impart the spirit they reflected on all around
him. In the presence of his prince we are told that his manner, though
self-possessed, displayed respectful uneasiness. When he entered the
palace, or when he passed the vacant throne, his countenance changed,
his legs bent under him, and he spoke as though he had scarcely breath
to utter a word. When it fell to his lot to carry the royal sceptre, he
stooped his body as though he were not able to bear its weight. If the
prince came to visit him when he was ill, he had himself placed with his
head to the east, and lay dressed in his court clothes with his girdle
across them. When the prince sent him a present of cooked meat, he
carefully adjusted his mat and just tasted the dishes; if the meat were
uncooked, he offered it to the spirits of his ancestors, and any animal
which was thus sent him he kept alive.
At the village festivals he never preceded, but always followed after
the elders. To all about him he assumed an appearance of simplicity and
sincerity. To the court officials of the lower grade he spoke freely,
and to superior officers his manner was bland but precise. Even at the
wild gatherings which accompanied the annual ceremony of driving away
pestilential influences, he paid honor to the original meaning of the
rite, by standing in court robes on the eastern steps of his house, and
received the riotous exorcists as though they were favored guests. When
sent for by the prince to assist in receiving a royal visitor, his
countenance appeared to change. He inclined himself to the officers
among whom he stood, and when sent to meet the visitor at the gate, "he
hastened forward with his arms spread out like the wings of a bird."
Recognizing in the wind and the storm the voice of Heaven, he changed
countenance at the sound of a sudden clap of thunder or a violent gust
of wind.
The principles which underlie all these details relieve them from the
sense of affected formality which they would otherwise suggest. Like the
sages of old, Confucius had an overweening faith in the effect of
example. "What do you say," asked the chief of the Ke clan on one
occasion, "to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?"
"Sir," replied Confucius, "in carrying on your government why should you
employ capital punishment at all? Let your evinced desires be for what
is good and the people will be good." And then quoting the words of King
Ching, he added, "The relation between superiors and inferiors is like
that between the wind and the grass. The grass must bend when the wind
blows across it." Thus in every act of his life, whether at home or
abroad, whether at table or in bed, whether at study or in moments of
relaxation, he did all with the avowed object of being seen of men and
of influencing them by his conduct. And to a certain extent he gained
his end. He succeeded in demolishing a number of fortified cities which
had formed the hotbeds of sedition and tumult; and thus added greatly to
the power of the reigning duke. He inspired the men with a spirit of
loyalty and good faith, and taught the women to be chaste and docile. On
the report of the tranquillity prevailing in Loo, strangers flocked
into the state, and thus was fulfilled the old criterion of good
government which was afterward repeated by Confucius, "the people were
happy, and strangers were attracted from afar."
But even Confucius found it impossible to carry all his theories into
practice, and his experience as Minister of Crime taught him that
something more than mere example was necessary to lead the people into
the paths of virtue. Before he had been many months in office, he signed
the death-warrant of a well-known citizen named Shaou for disturbing the
public peace. This departure from the principle he had so lately laid
down astonished his followers, and Tsze-kung--the Simon Peter as he has
been called among his disciples--took him to task for executing so
notable a man. But Confucius held to it that the step was necessary.
"There are five great evils in the world," said he: "a man with a
rebellious heart who becomes dangerous; a man who joins to vicious deeds
a fierce temper; a man whose words are knowingly false; a man who
treasures in his memory noxious deeds and disseminates them; a man who
follows evil and fertilizes it. All these evil qualities were combined
in Shaou. His house was a rendezvous for the disaffected; his words were
specious enough to dazzle any one; and his opposition was violent enough
to overthrow any independent man."
But notwithstanding such departures from the lines he had laid down for
himself, the people gloried in his rule and sang at their work songs in
which he was described as their savior from oppression and wrong.
Confucius was an enthusiast, and his want of success in his attempt
completely to reform the age in which he lived never seemed to suggest a
doubt to his mind of the complete wisdom of his creed. According to his
theory, his official administration should have effected the reform not
only of his sovereign and the people, but of those of the neighboring
states. But what was the practical result? The contentment which reigned
among the people of Loo, instead of instigating the duke of T'se to
institute a similar system, only served to rouse his jealousy. "With
Confucius at the head of its government," said he, "Loo will become
supreme among the states, and T'se, which is nearest to it, will be
swallowed up. Let us propitiate it by a surrender of territory." But a
more provident statesman suggested that they should first try to bring
about the disgrace of the Sage.
With this object he sent eighty beautiful girls, well skilled in the
arts of music and dancing, and a hundred and twenty of the finest horses
which could be procured, as a present to the duke King. The result fully
realized the anticipation of the minister. The girls were taken into the
duke's harem, the horses were removed to the ducal stables, and
Confucius was left to meditate on the folly of men who preferred
listening to the songs of the maidens of T'se to the wisdom of Yaou and
Shun. Day after day passed and the duke showed no signs of returning to
his proper mind. The affairs of state were neglected, and for three days
the duke refused to receive his ministers in audience.
"Master," said Tsze-loo, "it is time you went." But Confucius, who had
more at stake than his disciple, was disinclined to give up the
experiment on which his heart was set. Besides, the time was approaching
when the great sacrifice to Heaven at the solstice, about which he had
had so many conversations with the duke, should be offered up, and he
hoped that the recollection of his weighty words would recall the duke
to a sense of his duties. But his gay rivals in the affections of the
duke still held their sway, and the recurrence of the great festival
failed to awaken his conscience even for the moment. Reluctantly
therefore Confucius resigned his post and left the capital.
But though thus disappointed of the hopes he entertained of the duke of
Loo, Confucius was by no means disposed to resign his role as the
reformer of the age. "If any one among the princes would employ me,"
said he, "I would effect something considerable in the course of twelve
months, and in three years the government would be perfected." But the
tendencies of the times were unfavorable to the Sage. The struggle for
supremacy which had been going on for centuries between the princes of
the various states was then at its height, and though there might be a
question whether it would finally result in the victory of Tsin, or of
Ts'oo, or of Ts'in, there could be no doubt that the sceptre had
already passed from the hands of the ruler of Chow. To men therefore who
were fighting over the possessions of a state which had ceased to live,
the idea of employing a minister whose principal object would have been
to breathe life into the dead bones of Chow, was ridiculous. This soon
became apparent to his disciples, who being even more concerned than
their master at his loss of office, and not taking so exalted a view as
he did of what he considered to be a heaven-sent mission, were inclined
to urge him to make concessions in harmony with the times. "Your
principles," said Tsze-kung to him, "are excellent, but they are
unacceptable in the empire, would it not be well therefore to bate them
a little?" "A good husbandman," replied the Sage, "can sow, but he
cannot secure a harvest. An artisan may excel in handicraft, but he
cannot provide a market for his goods. And in the same way a superior
man can cultivate his principles, but he cannot make them acceptable."
But Confucius was at least determined that no efforts on his part should
be wanting to discover the opening for which he longed, and on leaving
Loo he betook himself to the state of Wei. On arriving at the capital,
the reigning duke received him with distinction, but showed no desire to
employ him. Probably expecting, however, to gain some advantage from the
counsels of the Sage in the art of governing, he determined to attach
him to his court by the grant of an annual stipend of sixty thousand
measures of grain--that having been the value of the post he had just
resigned in Loo. Had the experiences of his public life come up to the
sanguine hopes he had entertained at its beginning, Confucius would
probably have declined this offer as he did that of the Duke of T'se
some years before, but poverty unconsciously impelled him to act up to
the advice of Tsze-kung and to bate his principles of conduct somewhat.
His stay, however, in Wei was of short duration. The officials at the
court, jealous probably of the influence they feared he might gain over
the duke, intrigued against him, and Confucius thought it best to bow
before the coming storm. After living on the duke's hospitality for ten
months, he left the capital, intending to visit the state of Ch'in.
It chanced, however, that the way thither led him through the town of
Kwang, which had suffered much from the filibustering expeditions of a
notorious disturber of the public peace, named Yang-Hoo. To this man of
ill-fame Confucius bore a striking resemblance, so much so that the
townspeople, fancying that they now had their old enemy in their power,
surrounded the house in which he lodged for five days, intending to
attack him. The situation was certainly disquieting, and the disciples
were much alarmed. But Confucius's belief in the heaven-sent nature of
his mission raised him above fear. "After the death of King Wan," said
he, "was not the cause of truth lodged in me? If Heaven had wished to
let this sacred cause perish, I should not have been put into such a
relation to it. Heaven will not let the cause of truth perish, and what
therefore can the people of Kwang do to me?" Saying which he tuned his
lyre, and sang probably some of those songs from his recently compiled
Book of Odes which breathed the wisdom of the ancient emperors.
From some unexplained cause, but more probably from the people of Kwang
discovering their mistake than from any effect produced by Confucius'
ditties, the attacking force suddenly withdrew, leaving the Sage free to
go wherever he listed. This misadventure was sufficient to deter him
from wandering farther a-field, and, after a short stay at Poo, he
returned to Wei. Again the duke welcomed him to the capital, though it
does not appear that he renewed his stipend, and even his consort
Nan-tsze forgot for a while her intrigues and debaucheries at the news
of his arrival. With a complimentary message she begged an interview
with the Sage, which he at first refused; but on her urging her request,
he was fain obliged to yield the point. On being introduced into her
presence, he found her concealed behind a screen, in strict accordance
with the prescribed etiquette, and after the usual formalities they
entered freely into conversation.
Tsze-loo was much disturbed at this want of discretion, as he considered
it, on the part of Confucius, and the vehemence of his master's answer
showed that there was a doubt in his own mind whether he had not
overstepped the limits of sage-like propriety. "Wherein I have done
improperly," said he, "may Heaven reject me! may Heaven reject me!"
This incident did not, however, prevent him from maintaining friendly
relations with the court, and it was not until the duke by a public act
showed his inability to understand the dignity of the role which
Confucius desired to assume, that he lost all hope of finding employment
in the state of his former patron. On this occasion the duke drove
through the streets of his capital seated in a carriage with Nan-tsze,
and desired Confucius to follow in a carriage behind. As the procession
passed through the market-place, the people perceiving more clearly than
the duke the incongruity of the proceeding, laughed and jeered at the
idea of making virtue follow in the wake of lust. This completed the
shame which Confucius felt at being in so false a position.
"I have not seen one," said he, "who loves virtue as he loves beauty."
To stay any longer under the protection of a court which could inflict
such an indignity upon him was more than he could do, and he therefore
once again struck southward toward Ch'in.
After his retirement from office it is probable that Confucius devoted
himself afresh to imparting to his followers those doctrines and
opinions which we shall consider later on. Even on the road to Ch'in we
are told that he practised ceremonies with his disciples beneath the
shadow of a tree by the wayside in Sung. In the spirit of Laou-tsze,
Hwuy T'uy, an officer in the neighborhood, was angered at his reported
"proud air and many desires, his insinuating habit and wild will," and
attempted to prevent him entering the state. In this endeavor, however,
he was unsuccessful, as were some more determined opponents, who two
years later attacked him at Poo, when he was on his way to Wei. On this
occasion he was seized, and though it is said that his followers
struggled manfully with his captors, their efforts did not save him from
having to give an oath that he would not continue his journey to Wei.
But in spite of his oath, and in spite of the public slight which had
previously been put upon him by the duke of Wei, an irresistible
attraction drew him toward that state, and he had no sooner escaped from
the clutches of his captors than he continued his journey.
This deliberate forfeiture of his word in one who had commanded them to
"hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles," surprised his
disciples; and Tsze-kung, who was generally the spokesman on such
occasions, asked him whether it was right to violate the oath he had
taken. But Confucius, who had learned expediency in adversity, replied,
"It was an oath extracted by force. The spirits do not hear such."
But to return to Confucius flying from his enemies in Sung. Finding his
way barred by the action of Hwan T'uy, he proceeded westward and arrived
at Ch'ing, the capital of the state of the same name. Thither it would
appear his disciples had preceded him, and he arrived unattended at the
eastern gate of the city. But his appearance was so striking that his
followers were soon made aware of his presence. "There is a man," said a
townsman to Tsze-kung, "standing at the east gate with a forehead like
Yaou, a neck like Kaou Yaou, his shoulders on a level with those of
Tsze-ch'an, but wanting below the waist three inches of the height of
Yu, and altogether having the forsaken appearance of a stray dog."
Recognizing his master in this description, Tsze-kung hastened to meet
him, and repeated to him the words of his informant. Confucius was much
amused, and said: "The personal appearance is a small matter; but to say
I was like a stray dog--capital! capital!"
The ruling powers in Ch'ing, however, showed no disposition to employ
even a man possessing such marked characteristics, and before long he
removed to Ch'in, where he remained a year. From Ch'in he once more
turned his face toward Wei, and it was while he was on this journey that
he was detained at Poo, as mentioned above. Between Confucius and the
duke of Wei there evidently existed a personal liking, if not
friendship. The duke was always glad to see him and ready to converse
with him; but Confucius's unbounded admiration for those whose bones, as
Laou-tsze said, were mouldered to dust, and especially for the founders
of the Chow dynasty, made it impossible for the duke to place him in any
position of importance. At the same time Confucius seems always to have
hoped that he would be able to gain the duke over to his views; and thus
it came about that the Sage was constantly attracted to the court of
Duke Ling, and as often compelled to exile himself from it.
On this particular occasion, as at all other times, the duke received
him gladly, but their conversations, which had principally turned on the
act of peaceful government, were now directed to warlike affairs. The
duke was contemplating an attack on Poo, the inhabitants of which, under
the leadership of Hwan T'uy, who had arrested Confucius, had rebelled
against him. At first Confucius was quite disposed to support the duke
in his intended hostilities; but a representation from the duke that the
probable support of other states would make the expedition one of
considerable danger, converted Confucius to the opinion evidently
entertained by the duke, that it would be best to leave Hwan T'uy in
possession of his ill-gotten territory. Confucius's latest advice was
then to this effect, and the duke acted upon it.
The duke was now becoming an old man, and with advancing age came a
disposition to leave the task of governing to others, and to weary of
Confucius' high-flown lectures. He ceased "to use" Confucius, as the
Chinese historians say, and the Sage was therefore indignant, and ready
to accept any offer which might come from any quarter. While in this
humor he received an invitation from Pih Hih, an officer of the state of
Tsin who was holding the town of Chung-mow against his chief, to visit
him, and he was inclined to go. It is impossible to study this portion
of Confucius' career without feeling that a great change had come over
his conduct. There was no longer that lofty love of truth and of virtue
which had distinguished the commencement of his official life.
Adversity, instead of stiffening his back, had made him pliable. He who
had formerly refused to receive money he had not earned, was now willing
to take pay in return for no other services than the presentation of
courtier-like advice on occasions when Duke Ling desired to have his
opinion in support of his own; and in defiance of his oft-repeated
denunciation of rebels, he was now ready to go over to the court of a
rebel chief, in the hope possibly of being able through his means "to
establish," as he said on another occasion, "an Eastern Chow."
Again Tsze-loo interfered, and expostulated with him on his
inconsistency. "Master," said he, "I have heard you say that when a man
is guilty of personal wrong-doing, a superior man will not associate
with him. If you accept the invitation of this Pih Hih, who is in open
rebellion against his chief, what will people say?" But Confucius, with
a dexterity which had now become common with him, replied: "It is true I
have said so. But is it not also true 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 black fluid without becoming black? Am I a bitter gourd?
Am I to be hung up out of the way of being eaten?" But nevertheless
Tsze-loo's remonstrances prevailed, and he did not go.
His relations with the duke did not improve, and so dissatisfied was he
with his patron that he retired from the court. As at this time
Confucius was not in the receipt of any official income, it is probable
that he again provided for his wants by imparting to his disciples some
of the treasures out of the rich stores of learning which he had
collected by means of diligent study and of a wide experience. Every
word and action of Confucius were full of such meaning to his admiring
followers that they have enabled us to trace him into the retirement of
private life. In his dress, we are told, he was careful to wear only the
"correct" colors, viz., azure, yellow, carnation, white and black, and
he scrupulously avoided red as being the color usually affected by women
and girls. At the table he was moderate in his appetite but particular
as to the nature of his food and the manner in which it was set before
him. Nothing would induce him to touch any meat that was "high" or rice
that was musty, nor would he eat anything that was not properly cut up
or accompanied with the proper sauce. He allowed himself only a certain
quantity of meat and rice, and though no such limit was fixed to the
amount of wine with which he accompanied his frugal fare, we are assured
that he never allowed himself to be confused by it. When out driving, he
never turned his head quite round, and in his actions as well as in his
words he avoided all appearance of haste.
Such details are interesting in the case of a man like Confucius, who
has exercised so powerful an influence over so large a proportion of the
world's inhabitants, and whose instructions, far from being confined to
the courts of kings, found their loudest utterances in intimate
communings with his disciples, and in the example he set by the exact
performance of his daily duties.
The only accomplishment which Confucius possessed was a love of music,
and this he studied less as an accomplishment than as a necessary part
of education. "It is by the odes that the mind is aroused," said he. "It
is by the rules of propriety that the character is established. And it
is music which completes the edifice."