by Confucius
Liu Baonan thinks that we should look upon “deference” (rang) as “the tenor and the point of ritual practice [li]” and the rites as “the vehicle for cultivating a deferential attitude.” He says that “the former kings were concerned about the frequent occurrences of conflict in the world and so established the rites” in order to foster a sense of respect in their subjects. Understanding the ritual institution in this way, Qian Mu says, is quite different from regarding it as purely a means to enforce the distinction between the superior and the inferior in a hierarchy. But here Confucius could also be asking the ruler to be the example of ritual propriety: If the ruler behaves in such a way and is deferential to others, what trouble will he have in governing his people?
4.14 The Master said, “Do not worry that you have no official position. Worry about not having the qualifications to deserve a position. Do not worry that others do not know you. Seek to be worthy of being known.”
“Worry about how to get yourself qualified for the position” is a closer rendering of the second sentence, but in my reading I follow Liu Baonan, who thinks that a slight modification of the text—“Worry about not having the qualifications to deserve a position”—is what Confucius intended to say and that the minute change in wording would “convey a greater sense of urgency” about learning. Liu notes that Xunzi, in his essay “Contra Twelve Philosophers,” expressed a similar idea when he wrote, “A gentleman is able to strive to become respected, but he cannot make others necessarily respect him. He is able to strive to become trustworthy, but he cannot make others necessarily trust him. He is able to strive to become a person of use, but he cannot make others necessarily use his talents. Thus a gentleman is ashamed about not having cultivated himself, but he is not ashamed about being humiliated by others. He would be ashamed of not being trustworthy, but he is not ashamed if others do not perceive him as trustworthy. He would be ashamed if he has no abilities, but he is not ashamed if his talents are not seen as useful.”
4.15 The Master said, “Can [Zeng Can], my way has a thread running through it.” Master Zeng replied, “Yes.”
After the Master left, the disciples asked, “What did he mean?”
Master Zeng said, “The Master’s way consists of doing one’s best to fulfill one’s humanity [zhong] and treating others with an awareness that they, too, are alive with humanity [shu].”
Here, Zeng Can, Master Zeng, explains to other disciples what Confucius meant when he said, “my way has a thread running through it.” Zhong and shu, in the view of most traditional scholars, represent an accurate summary of Confucius’ teaching—a position that the Analects could easily support. Thus Zeng Can was probably right in this regard, but whether his idea of zhong and shu concurs with that of Confucius is another question. Zeng Can’s teaching gravitates toward self-cultivation, while Confucius’ covers more ground and is inseparable from government and politics. Thus the Qing scholar Jiao Xun was right to associate Confucius’ idea of zhong and shu to the latter’s perception of the sage ruler Shun. He writes,
What is zhong and shu? To fulfill oneself and others. Confucius said [in the Doctrine of the Mean, section 6], “Shun indeed possessed great knowledge. He liked to ask questions and to look into ordinary and accessible words. He tried to conceal what was bad in others and disclose what was good in them. He had a grasp of the two ends [of a question] and aimed to achieve a balanced and measured approach [in governing] his people. It was in this way that he was [the great] Shun!”
Jiao Xun goes on to quote Mencius, saying, “Shun was ready to fall into line with others, giving up his ways for theirs and glad to learn from others that by which he could do good.” This, Jiao suggests, is the single thread, the zhong and shu that characterize Shun’s conduct. But since “being unequal is the nature of things,” a great man like Shun “would not gauge the nature of everyone in the world by what he understands about his nature,” and he would not “dictate that the whole world should learn and know what he has learned and known.” Instead, this man “would give full realization to his potential and thereby help others realize their potential” because he is aware of the fact that every person has his own desires and capabilities. Jiao Xun’s reading of zhong and shu is not the same as that of most scholars, which regards the act of empathy or reciprocity as the moral outcome of using oneself as a measure for gauging other people’s likes and dislikes because it assumes that everyone has similar propensities. Jiao Xun’s idea of shu is larger, and he believes that this is how large Confucius wanted it to be, so he employs Shun as an example of someone who had truly embraced it. And, he says, a great man like Shun was “ready to fall into line with others, giving up his ways for theirs” because he knew that his cultivation and his learning would be “incomplete” if he “could not connect with others” and let “a single thread run through their humanity.” Jiao Xun refers the reader to 15.3 for further clarification on this point.
An account in a recently excavated text, dated to around 300 BC, seems to agree with Jiao Xun’s argument regarding Shun’s greatness. It says, “Formerly when Shun was just an ordinary man, as he personally plowed the field at the foot of the Li Mountain, he was already trying to find the middle [zhong], a balanced approach [to all kinds of human predicament]. He examined his own intentions and tried not to be at odds with the many wishes and desires of the multitude, and he carried out this principle in matters high and low, far and near.”
4.16 The Master said, “The gentleman [junzi] understands what is morally right. The petty man [xiaoren] understands what is profitable.”
Early Confucian scholars, such as Dong Zhongshu and Zheng Xuan of the Han, think that junzi and xiaoren refer to the social positions of these men. Dong writes, “It is the intention of the ruling elite—the junzi—to pursue the idea of what is right because they are afraid of not being able to bring about a moral transformation of the common people. It is the business of the common people to find ways to make a profit because they are afraid of being destitute.” Most of the later scholars, however, regard junzi and xiaoren as moral distinctions, because they think that it was not unusual to find “petty men” among the ruling elite and “gentlemen” among commoners and that in Confucius’ view a man’s worth had to do with whether this man was alert to what was right. Jiao Xun in such an argument quotes the Warring States thinker Xunzi, who says, in the essay “On the Regulations of a King,” “In ancient times, even though a person might be a descendant of a king, a duke, a knight, or a grand officer, if he was not observant of ritual propriety and moral rightness, he would have been demoted to the position of a commoner. On the other hand, even though a person might be a descendent of a commoner, if he was able to accumulate his cultural capital and his learning, rectify his character and conduct, and be observant of ritual propriety and moral rightness, he would have been elevated to the position of a king, a duke, a knight, or a grand officer.” To distinguish a junzi from a xiaoren on the basis of moral worth is more in accord with Confucius’ teachings in the Analects, though the earlier reading is also possible.
4.17 The Master said, “When you meet a worthy person, think how you could become his equal. When you meet an unworthy person, turn inward and examine your own conduct.”
Liu Baonan thinks that the first two sentences of Xunzi’s essay on self-cultivation explain perfectly what Confucius means here. Xunzi says, “When you see good, collect yourself and make sure that you absorb what you have witnessed. When you see what is not good, let yourself feel distraught and make sure you look into yourself.”
4.18 The Master said, “In serving your parents, be gentle when trying to dissuade them from wrongdoing [jijian]. If you see that they are not inclined to heed your advice, remain reverent. Do not openly challenge them [buwei]. Do not be resentful even when they wear you out and make you anxious [lao].”
A person of integrity would want to dissuade his parents “from wrongdoing,” and he would be worried (lao) if his parents were resistant
to his effort. In such a situation, it would be easy for him to lose his temper and confront his parents with blunt words. This was what Confucius realized, and his advice for the son is “be gentle” when speaking to your parents, remain respectful, do not flout them, but also do not give up and let them have their way.
Scholars in their commentaries focus on the reading of ji, buwei, and lao. Most agree on the meaning of ji, “to be gentle,” and lao, “to feel worried or distressed,” or “to be worn out,” but this is not so with their understanding of buwei. Some say that buwei means “not to dare to go against the wishes of your parents and press for your own point.” Others think differently, saying that buwei here refers to a person’s demeanor, of not behaving offensively toward his parents even when they refuse to heed his advice. Those who argue for the second and the more persuasive reading rely heavily on three chapters of the Book of Rites—“Tan Gong”; “The Meaning of Sacrifice” (Jiyi); and “Regulations in the Home” (Neize)—for support. “Tan Gong” says, “In serving your parents, [if they made a misstep,] approach them indirectly and patiently; do not hurt their pride [with angry protest]. . . . In serving your ruler, [if he made a misstep,] approach him directly even at the risk of hurting his pride; do not hide anything.” “The Meaning of Sacrifice” says, “If the parents committed wrongdoing, the child should remonstrate with them, but he must not decry them openly [buni].” This prompted the Han scholar Zheng Xuan to offer this comment: “Not to decry someone openly means buwei, which is the same as saying that in the case of a son he is ‘gentle when trying to dissuade his parents from wrongdoing [jijian].’ This, however, does not mean that the son dare not disobey his parents’ wishes, because to do so is to give up altogether his effort of remonstrance.”
4.19 The Master said, “While your parents are alive, do not travel to distant places. And if you have to travel, you must tell them exactly where you are going to be.”
Again Confucius asks the son to be sensitive to his parents’ feelings and not to cause them to fret. But compared with that in 4.18, the advice here is much simpler to follow. Just don’t travel too far when your parents are alive, he says, and tell them where you are going to reside when you are away from home in case they need to find you.
4.20 The Master said, “If for three years you refrained from altering your father’s ways [after your father died], you can be called filial.”
The same statement appears in the second half of 1.11. Refer to the commentary there.
4.21 The Master said, “You must always be mindful of your parents’ age. It should give you cause to rejoice and reason for anxiety.”
Feelings of joy and anxiety should be inseparable for a child who loves his parents and knows that a good thing—either his parents’ health or their long life—cannot last forever. The Qing scholar Liu Kai writes, “Fear is rooted in happiness, and so [for as long as the parents are alive] the child lives constantly in happiness and in fear.”
4.22 The Master said, “People in ancient times did not speak carelessly, for they knew to feel ashamed if their action did not measure up to their words.”
Liu Baonan in his commentary refers to a statement attributed to Confucius in the “Black Robe” (Ziyi) chapter of the Book of Rites, which says, “If a person puts what he has said immediately into action, then he cannot exaggerate his words. If he explains immediately what he has done, then he cannot exaggerate what he has accomplished. Thus the gentleman achieves trust by putting action ahead of his words, which makes it difficult for people to play up his good points and play down his bad ones.” A passage from the “Records of Exemplary Conduct” (Biaoji) chapter of the Book of Rites, however, puts it even more forcefully. Again the statement is attributed to Confucius, who says, “A gentleman will not use what a man says to gauge his character. When the moral way prevails in the world, there is more doing than words. When the moral way does not prevail in the world, there are more words than doing. When a gentleman is by the side of a mourner, if he is unable to assist this man with the funeral expense, he will not ask him how much it is; when he is by the side of someone who is ill, if he is unable to offer him the kind of food this man might want, he will not ask what he would like; if he has a guest and cannot put him up, he will not ask this man where he will be staying. The gentleman’s relationship with others is like water, while the petty man’s relationship with others is like wine. Yet the gentleman can let a relationship characterized by blandness attain its fulfillment while the petty man can let a relationship characterized by sweetness turn sour.”
4.23 The Master said, “Few are those who make mistakes by knowing to hold back.”
The Han scholar Kong Anguo says, “Neither extreme hits the mark. But excessive behavior suggests arrogance and depravity, which is the same as courting disaster. At least when a person knows to hold back, it is less likely for him to be in trouble.” The “Records of Exemplary Conduct” (Biaoji) chapter of the Book of Rites says, “Being modest closely embodies the idea of propriety; knowing to hold back closely embodies the idea of humaneness; being trustworthy means that one understands human feelings. Although a person could still err if he is respectful and yielding in his conduct, his mistakes would not be so serious. . . . And few are those who make mistakes by being modest and trustworthy, and by knowing to hold back.”
4.24 The Master said, “The gentleman tends to be hesitant about speaking but quick to act.”
This reinforces what Confucius says in 4.22, 12.3, and 14.27.
4.25 The Master said, “Virtue does not stand alone. It is bound to have neighbors.”
“The world is drawn to men of virtue”—this is how most scholars understand what Confucius was trying to say here. But Qian Mu feels that it is also possible to consider this statement in the context of someone who is trying to perfect his virtue: such a person would need friends and teachers—people close to him—in his quest for self-knowledge, and so “virtue also cannot be achieved in isolation.”
4.26 Ziyou said, “In serving your ruler, if your reproof is unrelenting and tiresome [cu], you will end up being humiliated. If you are that way with your friends, they will drift away from you.”
The word cu () means “tedious, oppressive, unrelenting.” But when the same word is pronounced as shu, it means “numerous, repetitive.” Hence the Han scholar Zheng Xuan suggests another reading: “[In serving your ruler,] if you talk about your own merits and accomplishments repeatedly [, you will end up being humiliated].”
BOOK FIVE
5.1 The Master said of Gongye Chang: “He is fit to marry. Even though he spent time in prison, he did not commit any crime.” And he gave him his daughter for a wife.
Gongye Chang was a disciple of Confucius, and, according to different accounts, he was a native of either Lu or Qi. Confucius does not mention why this man had been put in irons, but a few early sources mention that Gongye Chang understood the language of birds, and so, from this inexact information, several stories emerged that tried to explain how his affinity with birds got him into trouble with the law. The most gripping of such stories says that while on his way from Wei to Lu, Gongye Chang “heard birds telling one another to go to Qingxi, where they could feast on a dead body.” Shortly after, Gongye Chang met on the road an old woman who had been searching for her son after he did not come home from a trip. The woman believed that her son had died on the road, and after Gongye Chang revealed to her what he had understood from the birds’ chatter, the two went to Qingxi and found the woman’s son, who “was indeed dead.” When the authorities learned about how the body was discovered, they suspected Gongye Chang. How could he have known the body’s whereabouts, they asked, if he was not responsible for this man’s death? After Gongye Chang was apprehended, he told the jailer one day that the birds outside his window were spreading the news that a cart carrying a large load of grain down the road had just overturned, and when the information was proven right, he was able to gain his release. Scholars all regard such
accounts as suspect, yet they like to refer to them in their commentaries because they make good stories.
It is probably not important to know just what Gongye Chang did that landed him in prison, because Confucius did not think that he committed any crime. Xunzi in his essay “Rectifying Theses” makes a forceful argument about the difference between disgrace due to one’s own moral failing and disgrace incurred through the force of circumstances, which, he says, even a man of unimpeachable integrity could find himself in. This, I believe, is what Confucius was trying to say about Gongye Cheng: that he did not find any fault with his character.
5.2 The Master said of Nan Rong: “When the moral way prevails in the state, he is not overlooked. When the moral way no longer exists in the state, he manages to avoid punishment and execution.” He gave him the daughter of his older brother for a wife.
Confucius had only one brother, Mengpi, who, according to several Han dynasty sources, did not share a mother with Confucius. Mengpi was the son of Confucius’ father’s concubine from a previous marriage. Born with a clubfoot and to a woman who was driven out of the family after her husband remarried, he was likely a marginalized figure, yet Confucius referred to him as his “older brother.” And by the time his daughter was of a marriageable age, Mengpi was probably dead, and so Confucius assumed the responsibility of finding her a husband of worthy qualities.
Nan Rong also appears in 11.6. There we learn that he kept reciting the poem about the white jade tablet: “A blemish in a white jade tablet / can be polished away; / a mistake in these words / can never be mended.” Nan Rong must have been vigilant with speech because he realized the trouble a slip of the tongue could cause, which explains why he “manages to avoid punishment and execution” even when the moral way is absent in the state. There has been much debate in the commentary tradition about the identity of Nan Rong: whether he was Confucius’ disciple Nangong Tao; whether Nangong Tao was Nangong, a scion of the head of the Mengsun family; and whether Nan Rong also went by the name of Nangong Kuo. Confucius describes Nangong Kuo in 14.5 as “a gentleman” and “an example of the highest virtue.”
