inclined to resign all hope of future employment, and the duke of Wei
still remaining deaf to his advice, he determined to visit the state of
Tsin, in the hope of finding in Chaou Keen-tsze, one of the three
chieftains who virtually governed that state, a more hopeful pupil. With
this intention he started westward, but had got no farther than the
Yellow River when the news reached him of the execution of Tuh Ming and
Tuh Shun-hwa, two men of note in Tsin. The disorder which this indicated
put a stop to his journey; for had not he himself said "that a superior
man will not enter a tottering state." His disappointment and grief were
great, and looking at the yellow waters as they flowed at his feet, he
sighed and muttered to himself: "Oh how beautiful were they; this river
is not more majestic than they were! and I was not there to avert their
fate!"
So saying he returned to Wei, only to find the duke as little inclined
to listen to his lectures, as he was deeply engaged in warlike
preparations. When Confucius presented himself at court, the duke
refused to talk on any other subject but military tactics, and
forgetting, possibly on purpose, that Confucius was essentially a man of
peace, pressed him for information on the art of manoeuvreing an army.
"If you should wish to know how to arrange sacrificial vessels," said
the Sage, "I will answer you, but about warfare I know nothing."
Confucius was now sixty years old, and the condition of the states
composing the empire was even more unfavorable for the reception of his
doctrines than ever. But though depressed by fortune, he never lost that
steady confidence in himself and his mission, which was a leading
characteristic of his career, and when he found the duke of Wei deaf to
his advice, he removed to Ch'in, in the hope of there finding a ruler
who would appreciate his wisdom.
In the following year he left Ch'in with his disciples for Ts'ae, a
small dependency of the state of Ts'oo. In those days the empire was
subjected to constant changes. One day a new state carved out of an old
one would appear, and again it would disappear, or increase in size, as
the fortunes of war might determine. Thus while Confucius was in Ts'ae,
a part of Ts'oo declared itself independent, under the name of Ye, and
the ruler usurped the title of duke. In earlier days such rebellion
would have called forth a rebuke from Confucius; but it was otherwise
now, and, instead of denouncing the usurper as a rebel, he sought him as
a patron. The duke did not know how to receive his visitor, and asked
Tsze-loo about him. But Tsze-loo, possibly because he considered the
duke to be no better than Pih Hih, returned him no answer. For this
reticence Confucius found fault with him, and said, "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 attainments, forgets his
sorrows; and who does not perceive that old age is coming on?'"
But whatever may have been the opinion of Tsze-loo, Confucius was quite
ready to be on friendly terms with the duke, who seems to have had no
keener relish for Confucius' ethics than the other rulers to whom he had
offered his services. We are only told of one conversation which took
place between the duke and the Sage, and on that occasion the duke
questioned him on the subject of government. Confucius' reply was
eminently characteristic of the man. Most of his definitions of good
government would have sounded unpleasantly in the ears of a man who had
just thrown off his master's yoke and headed a successful rebellion, so
he cast about for one which might offer some excuse for the new duke by
attributing the fact of his disloyalty to the bad government of his late
ruler. Quoting the words of an earlier sage, he replied, "Good
government obtains when those who are near are made happy, and those who
are far off are attracted."
Returning from Ye to Ts'ae, he came to a river which, being unbridged,
left him no resource but to ford it. Seeing two men whom he recognized
as political recluses ploughing in a neighboring field, he sent the
ever-present Tsze-loo to inquire of them where best he could effect a
crossing. "Who is that holding the reins in the carriage yonder?" asked
the first addressed, in answer to Tsze-loo's inquiry. "Kung Kew,"
replied the disciple, "Kung Kew, of Loo?" asked the ploughman. "Yes,"
was the reply. "_He_ knows the ford," was the enigmatic answer of the
man as he turned to his work; but whether this reply was suggested by
the general belief that Confucius was omniscient, or by wry of a parable
to signify that Confucius possessed the knowledge by which the river of
disorder, which was barring the progress of liberty and freedom, might
be crossed, we are only left to conjecture. Nor from the second recluse
could Tsze-loo gain any practical information. "Who are you, sir?" was
the somewhat peremptory question which his inquiry met with. Upon his
answering that he was a disciple of Confucius, the man, who might have
gathered his estimate of Confucius from the mouth of Laou-tsze, replied:
"Disorder, like a swelling flood, spreads over the whole empire, and who
is he who will change it for you? Rather than follow one who merely
withdraws from this court to that court, had you not better follow those
who (like ourselves) withdraw from the world altogether?" These words
Tsze-loo, as was his wont, repeated to Confucius, who thus justified his
career: "It is impossible to associate with birds and beasts as if they
were the same as ourselves. If I associate not with people, with
mankind, with whom shall I associate? If right principles prevailed
throughout the empire, there would be no necessity for me to change its
state."
Altogether Confucius remained three years in Ts'ae,--three years of
strife and war, during which his counsels were completely neglected.
Toward their close, the state of Woo made an attack on Ch'in, which
found support from the powerful state of Ts'oo on the south. While thus
helping his ally, the Duke of Ts'oo heard that Confucius was in Ts'ae,
and determined to invite him to his court. With this object he sent
messengers bearing presents to the Sage, and charged them with a
message begging him to come to Ts'oo. Confucius readily accepted the
invitation, and prepared to start. But the news of the transaction
alarmed the ministers of Ts'ae and Ch'in. "Ts'oo," said they, "is
already a powerful state, and Confucius is a man of wisdom. Experience
has proved that those who have despised him have invariably suffered for
it, and, should he succeed in guiding the affairs of Ts'oo, we should
certainly be ruined. At all hazards we must stop his going." When,
therefore, Confucius had started on his journey, these men despatched a
force which hemmed him in a wild bit of desert country. Here, we are
told, they kept him a prisoner for seven days, during which time he
suffered severe privations, and, as was always the case in moments of
difficulty, the disciples loudly bewailed their lot and that of their
master.
"Has the superior man," said Tsze-loo, "indeed, to endure in this way?"
"The superior man may indeed have to suffer want," replied Confucius,
"but it is only the mean man who, when he is in straits, gives way to
unbridled license." In this emergency he had recourse to a solace which
had soothed him on many occasions when fortune frowned: he played, on
his lute and sang.
At length he succeeded in sending word to the duke of Ts'oo of the
position he was in. At once the duke sent ambassadors to liberate him,
and he himself went out of his capital to meet him. But though he
welcomed him cordially, and seems to have availed himself of his advice
on occasions, he did not appoint him to any office, and the intention he
at one time entertained of granting him a slice of territory was
thwarted by his ministers, from motives of expediency. "Has your
majesty," said this officer, "any servant who could discharge the duties
of ambassador like Tsze-kung? or any so well qualified for a premier as
Yen Hwuy? or any one to compare as a general with Tsze-loo? Did not
kings Wan and Woo, from their small states of Fung and Kaou, rise to the
sovereignty of the empire? And if Kung Kew once acquired territory, with
such disciples to be his ministers, it will not be to the prosperity of
Ts'oo."
This remonstrance not only had the immediate effect which was intended,
but appears to have influenced the manner of the duke toward the Sage,
for in the interval between this and the duke's death, in the autumn of
the same year, we hear of no counsel being either asked or given. In the
successor to the throne Confucius evidently despaired of finding a
patron, and he once again returned to Wei.
Confucius was now sixty-three, and on arriving at Wei he found a
grandson of his former friend, the duke Ling, holding the throne against
his own father, who had been driven into exile for attempting the life
of his mother, the notorious Nan-tsze. This chief, who called himself
the duke Chuh, being conscious how much his cause would be strengthened
by the support of Confucius, sent Tsze-loo to him, saying, "The Prince
of Wei has been waiting to secure your services in the administration of
the state, and wishes to know what you consider is the first thing to be
done." "It is first of all necessary," replied Confucius, "to rectify
names." "Indeed," said Tzse-loo, "you are wide of the mark. Why need
there be such rectification?" "How uncultivated you are, Yew," answered
Confucius; "a superior man shows a cautious reserve in regard to what he
does not know. If names be not correct, language is not in accordance
with the truth of things. If language be not in accordance with the
truth of things, affairs cannot be carried on successfully. When affairs
cannot be carried on successfully, proprieties and music will not
flourish. When proprieties and music do not flourish, punishments will
not properly be awarded. When punishments are not properly awarded, the
people do not know how to move hand or foot. Therefore the superior man
considers it necessary that names should be used appropriately, and that
his directions should be carried out appropriately. A superior man
requires that his words should be correct."
The position of things in Wei was naturally such as Confucius could not
sanction, and, as the duke showed no disposition to amend his ways, the
Sage left his court, and lived the remainder of the five or six years,
during which he sojourned in the state, in close retirement.
He had now been absent from his native state of Loo for fourteen years,
and the time had come when he was to return to it. But, by the irony of
fate, the accomplishment of his long-felt desire was due, not to his
reputation for political or ethical wisdom, but to his knowledge of
military tactics, which he heartily despised. It happened that at this
time Yen Yew, a disciple of the Sage, being in the service of Ke K'ang,
conducted a campaign against T'se with much success. On his triumphal
return, Ke K'ang asked him how he had acquired his military skill. "From
Confucius," replied the general. "And what kind of man is he?" asked Ke
K'ang. "Were you to employ him," answered Yen Yew, "your fame would
spread abroad; your people might face demons and gods, and would have
nothing to fear or to ask of them. And if you accepted his principles,
were you to collect a thousand altars of the spirits of the land it
would profit you nothing." Attracted by such a prospect, Ke K'ang
proposed to invite the Sage to his court, "If you do," said Yen Yew,
"mind you do not allow mean men to come between you and him."
But before Ke K'ang's invitation reached Confucius an incident occurred
which made the arrival of the messengers from Loo still more welcome to
him. K'ung Wan, an officer of Wei, came to consult him as to the best
means of attacking the force of another officer with whom he was engaged
in a feud. Confucius, disgusted at being consulted on such a subject,
professed ignorance, and prepared to leave the state, saying as he went
away: "The bird chooses its tree; the tree does not choose the bird." At
this juncture Ke K'ang's envoys arrived, and without hesitation he
accepted the invitation they brought. On arriving at Loo, he presented
himself at court, and in reply to a question of the duke Gae on the
subject of government, threw out a strong hint that the duke might do
well to offer him an appointment. "Government," he said, "consists in
the right choice of ministers." To the same question put by Ke K'ang he
replied, "Employ the upright and put aside the crooked, and thus will
the crooked be made upright."
At this time Ke K'ang was perplexed how to deal with the prevailing
brigandage. "If you, sir, were not avaricious, though you might offer
rewards to induce people to steal, they would not." This answer
sufficiently indicates the estimate formed by Confucius of Ke K'ang
and therefore of the duke Gae, for so entirely were the two of one mind
that the acts of Ke K'ang appear to have been invariably indorsed by the
duke. It was plainly impossible that Confucius could serve under such a
regime, and instead, therefore, of seeking employment, he retired to his
study and devoted himself to the completion of his literary undertaking.
He was now sixty-nine years of age, and if a man is to be considered
successful only when he succeeds in realizing the dream of his life, he
must be deemed to have been unfortunate. Endowed by nature with a large
share of reverence, a cold rather than a fervid disposition, and a
studious mind, and reared in the traditions of the ancient kings, whose
virtuous achievements obtained an undue prominence by the obliteration
of all their faults and failures, he believed himself capable of
effecting far more than it was possible for him or any other man to
accomplish. In the earlier part of his career, he had in Loo an
opportunity given him for carrying his theories of government into
practice, and we have seen how they failed to do more than produce a
temporary improvement in the condition of the people under his immediate
rule. But he had a lofty and steady confidence in himself and in the
principles which he professed, which prevented his accepting the only
legitimate inference which could be drawn from his want of success. The
lessons of his own experience were entirely lost upon him, and he went
down to his grave at the age of seventy-two firmly convinced as of yore
that if he were placed in a position of authority "in three years the
government would be perfected."
Finding it impossible to associate himself with the rulers of Loo, he
appears to have resigned himself to exclusion from office. His
wanderings were over:
"And as a hare, when hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew,"
he had lately been possessed with an absorbing desire to return once
more to Loo. This had at last been brought about, and he made up his
mind to spend the remainder of his days in his native state. He had now
leisure to finish editing the _Shoo King_, or _Book of History_, to
which he wrote a preface; he also "carefully digested the rites and
ceremonies determined by the wisdom of the more ancient sages and
kings; collected and arranged the ancient poetry; and undertook the
reform of music." He made a diligent study of the _Book of Changes_, and
added a commentary to it, which is sufficient to show that the original
meaning of the work was as much a mystery to him as it has been to
others. His idea of what would probably be the value of the kernel
encased in this unusually hard shell, if it were once rightly
understood, is illustrated by his remark, "that if some years could be
added to his life, he would give fifty of them to the study of the _Book
of Changes_ and that then he expected to be without great faults."
In the year B.C. 482 his son Le died, and in the following year he lost
by death his faithful disciple Yen Hwuy. When the news of this last
misfortune reached him, he exclaimed, "Alas! Heaven is destroying me!" A
year later a servant of Ke K'ang caught a strange one-horned animal
while on a hunting excursion, and as no one present, could tell what
animal it was, Confucius was sent for. At once he declared it to be a
K'e-lin, and legend says that its identity with the one which appeared
before his birth was proved by its having the piece of ribbon on its
horn which Ching-tsae tied to the weird animal which presented itself to
her in a dream on Mount Ne. This second apparition could only have one
meaning, and Confucius was profoundly affected at the portent. "For whom
have you come?" he cried, "for whom have you come?" and then, bursting
into tears, he added, "The course of my doctrine is run, and I am
unknown."
"How do you mean that you are unknown?" asked Tsze-kung. "I don't
complain of Providence," answered the Sage, "nor find fault with men
that learning is neglected and success is worshipped. Heaven knows me.
Never does a superior man pass away without leaving a name behind him.
But my principles make no progress, and I, how shall I be viewed in
future ages?"
At this time, notwithstanding his declining strength and his many
employments, he wrote the _Ch'un ts'ew,_ or _Spring and Autumn Annals_,
in which he followed the history of his native state of Loo, from the
time of the duke Yin to the fourteenth year of the duke Gae, that is, to
the time when the appearance of the K'e-lin warned him to consider his
life at an end.
This is the only work of which Confucius was the author, and of this
every word is his own. His biographers say that "what was written, he
wrote, and what was erased, was erased by him." Not an expression was
either inserted or altered by any one but himself. When he had completed
the work, he handed the manuscript to his disciples, saying, "By the
_Spring and Autumn Annals_ I shall be known, and by the _Spring and
Autumn Annals_ I shall be condemned." This only furnishes another of the
many instances in which authors have entirely misjudged the value of
their own works.
In the estimation of his countrymen even, whose reverence for his every
word would incline them to accept his opinion on this as on every
subject, the _Spring and Autumn Annals_ holds a very secondary place,
his utterances recorded in the _Lun yu_, or _Confucian Analects_, being
esteemed of far higher value, as they undoubtedly are. And indeed the
two works he compiled, the _Shoo king_ and the _She king_, hold a very
much higher place in the public regard than the book on which he so
prided himself. To foreigners, whose judgments are unhampered by his
recorded opinion, his character as an original historian sinks into
insignificance, and he is known only as a philosopher and statesman.
Once again only do we hear of Confucius presenting himself at the court
of the duke after this. And this was on the occasion of the murder of
the duke of T'se by one of his officers. We must suppose that the crime
was one of a gross nature, for it raised Confucius' fiercest anger, and
he who never wearied of singing the praises of those virtuous men who
overthrew the thrones of licentious and tyrannous kings, would have had
no room for blame if the murdered duke had been like unto Kee or Show.
But the outrage was one which Confucius felt should be avenged, and he
therefore bathed and presented himself at court.
"Sir," said he, addressing the duke, "Ch'in Hang has slain his
sovereign; I beg that you will undertake to punish him." But the duke
was indisposed to move in the matter, and pleaded the comparative
strength of T'se. Confucius, however, was not to be so silenced.
"One-half of the people of Tse," said he, "are not consenting to the
deed. If you add to the people of Loo one-half of the people of Tse, you
will be sure to overcome." This numerical argument no more affected the
duke than the statement of the fact, and wearying with Confucius'
importunity, he told him to lay the matter before the chiefs of the
three principal families of the state. Before this court of appeal,
whither he went with reluctance, his cause fared no better, and the
murder remained unavenged.
At a period when every prince held his throne by the strength of his
right arm, revolutions lost half their crime, and must have been looked
upon rather as trials of strength than as disloyal villanies. The
frequency of their occurrence, also, made them less the subjects of
surprise and horror. At the time of which we write, the states in the
neighborhood of Loo appear to have been in a very disturbed condition.
Immediately following on the murder of the duke of T'se, news was
brought to Confucius that a revolution had broken out in Wei. This was
an occurrence which particularly interested him, for when he returned
from Wei to Loo he left Tsze-loo and Tsze-kaou, two of his disciples,
engaged in the official service of the state. "Tsze-kaou will return,"
was Confucius' remark, when he was told of the outbreak, "but Tsze-loo
will die." The prediction was verified. For when Tsze-kaou saw that
matters were desperate he made his escape; but Tsze-loo remained to
defend his chief, and fell fighting in the cause of his master. Though
Confucius had looked forward to the event as probable, he was none the
less grieved when he heard that it had come about, and he mourned for
his friend, whom he was so soon to follow to the grave.
One morning, in the spring of the year B.C. 478, he walked in front of
his door, mumbling as he went:
"The great mountain must crumble;
The strong beam must break;
And the wise man withers away like a plant."
These words came as a presage of evil to the faithful Tsze-kung. "If the
great mountain crumble," said he, "to what shall I look up? If the
strong beam break, and the wise man wither away, on whom shall I lean?
The master, I fear, is going to be ill." So saying, he hastened after
Confucius into the house. "What makes you so late?" said Confucius, when
the disciple presented himself before him; and then he added, "According
to the statutes of Hea, the corpse was dressed and coffined at the top
of the eastern steps, treating the dead as if he were still the host.
Under the Yin, the ceremony was performed between the two pillars, as if
the dead were both host and guest. The rule of Chow is to perform it at
the top of the western steps, treating the dead as if he were a guest. I
am a man of Yin, and last night I dreamed that I was sitting, with
offerings before me, between the two pillars. No intelligent monarch
arises; there is not one in the empire who will make me his master. My
time is come to die." It is eminently characteristic of Confucius that
in his last recorded speech and dream, his thoughts should so have dwelt
on the ceremonies of bygone ages. But the dream had its fulfilment. That
same day he took to his bed, and after a week's illness he expired.
On the banks of the river Sze, to the north of the capital city of Loo,
his disciples buried him, and for three years they mourned at his grave.
Even such marked respect as this fell short of the homage which
Tsze-kung, his most faithful disciple, felt was due to him, and for
three additional years that loving follower testified by his grief his
reverence for his master. "I have all my life had the heaven above my
head," said he, "but I do not know its height; and the earth under my
feet, but I know not its thickness. In serving Confucius, I am like a
thirsty man, who goes with his pitcher to the river and there drinks his
fill, without knowing the river's depth."
ROME ESTABLISHED AS A REPUBLIC
INSTITUTION OF TRIBUNES
B.C. 510-494
HENRY GEORGE LIDDELL
The republic of Rome was the outcome of a sudden revolution caused
by the crimes of the House of Tarquin, an Etruscan family who had
reached the highest power at Rome. The indignation raised by the
rape of Lucretia by Sextus Tarquinius, and the suicide of the
outraged lady at Collatia, moved her father, in conjunction with
Lucius Junius Brutus and Publius Valerius, to start a rebellion.
The people were assembled by curiæ, or wards, and voted that
Tarquinius Superbus should be stripped of the kingly power, and
that he and all his family should be banished from Rome.
This was accordingly done; and, instead of kings, consuls were
appointed to wield the supreme power. These consuls were elected
annually at the _comitia centuriata_ and they had sovereign power
granted them by a vote of the _comitia curiata_. The first consuls
chosen were Lucius Junius Brutus and Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus.