by Confucius
9.9 The Master said, “The phoenix has not been seen. No chart has emerged from the river. It is the end of me, is it not?”
The appearance of the phoenix and the issuance of a mysterious chart from the Yellow River were thought to auger the rise of a sage and the dawning of a world governed by the kingly way. Confucius’ lament refers either to the fact that he would not be able to live in such a world or to the fact that he was born in the wrong age and so would never be able to realize his potential.
9.10 Whenever the Master saw a person dressed in mourning clothes, or wearing a mourning headdress [mian] with gown and skirt, or a blind man, even if such a person was younger in age, he would invariably rise to his feet, and if he had to pass by such a person, he would always quicken his steps.
Mian could mean “ceremonial cap,” and references to those who wore ceremonial caps with gowns and skirts often meant officials. Thus some scholars understand this passage to say that Confucius always showed respect to those in mourning, those who were officials, and those who were blind. But scholars such as Qian Daxin and Qian Mu point out that mian could also mean wen (), a mourning headdress, which seems to make more sense in this context. Many commentaries suggest that we read this entry together with Book Ten to get a sense of how Confucius in his own practice let ritual decorum become an expression of respect and empathy.
9.11 Yan Hui said with a deep sigh, “The more I look up at it, the higher it appears. The more I bore into it, the harder it becomes. I see it before me, yet suddenly it is behind me. But my teacher knows how to coax me to move forward, and he does it a step at a time. He expands me with literature and culture and pulls me in with the rites. I cannot stop even if I want to, but having done all I can, it still seems to stand way above me. I don’t know where to start, however much I wish to pursue it.”
In Confucius’ estimation, Yan Hui was one who loved learning more than anyone else; and, in Zigong’s words, he was the one who, “having learned one thing,” could “give play to ten.” But here Yan Hui himself is speaking about the burden of possessing the urgency to learn and about the labor of learning, which he thinks is inseparable from the love for it. And it seems it was his decision to go at it on his own and his unwillingness to give up no matter how difficult the journey that made him stand out. Yet despite his drive and his gift of perspicuity and understanding, Yan Hui needed instruction from someone who knew how to urge him on and rein him in, and he found it in Confucius, in his words and presence.
9.12 The Master was gravely ill. Zilu instructed the disciples [who were present] to prepare [for the funeral] in the manner of retainers.
When the Master’s condition had improved somewhat, he upbraided Zilu, saying, “You have been practicing chicanery for much too long! By pretending I had retainers when I had none, whom were we trying to deceive? Heaven? Besides, would I not rather die in the arms of a few good friends than in the arms of retainers? And even if I could not have a minister’s burial, it was not as if I was dying by the wayside.”
The event described here must have happened during Confucius’ fourteen-year exile, after his resignation as minister of crime of Lu (because, he said, he could not have a minister’s burial) and before his return to Lu (because Zilu remained in Wei and died in Wei, and was not with Confucius when Confucius came home).
Confucius could not have a minister’s burial because after he gave up his job in Lu he was not appointed to another position of ministerial rank, and a former minister was not the same as a minister—he was not entitled to have retainers and to have his funeral prepared by men “in the manner of retainers.” Thus it was wrong for Zilu to think that he could have the disciples pretend to be retainers. “Whom are we trying to deceive?” Confucius asks. “Heaven?” He scoffs at Zilu for “practicing chicanery” even though he knows that Zilu meant well.
9.13 Zigong asked, “If there were a beautiful piece of jade right here, would you put it in a box and hide it or try to find someone with a good offer and sell it?”
The Master said, “Sell it! Sell it! I am waiting for a person with the right offer.”
An alternative translation of Zigong’s question is: “Would you put it in a box and hide it or look to sell it for a good price?” And in response, Confucius could have said: “Sell it! Sell it! I am waiting for the right offer.” The difference between the two readings hinges on the word jia (also pronounced as gu). Jia could refer either to the price of an object or to the broker who offers a price. Liu Baonan says that since the point of Zigong’s question is about whether Confucius is willing to put his talent to use in politics, jia must refer to the person who could give him the right offer for the precious jade that was his talent; and the person with the offer had to be a perceptive ruler who saw the potential in Confucius and sought his service. Most scholars stress that Confucius did not hawk his “beautiful jade” about and that, in his own words, he was “waiting” for the person with the right offer to come along. And, they claim, when he said “Sell it! Sell it!” Confucius was merely mimicking Zigong, who had once been a merchant and would, from time to time, still think and talk like a merchant.
9.14 The Master wanted to live among the Nine Yi barbarian tribes. Someone said, “But they are uncouth. How could you put up with their ways?”
The Master said, “A gentleman has lived among them, so how could they be uncouth?”
The two issues here are: Who were the Nine Yi barbarian tribes? And who was the “gentleman” with the transformative power? Most scholars think that “the Nine Yi barbarian tribes” refers to the non-Chinese who lived on the east coast of the Zhou empire, people who were “gentle by nature and could be easily guided to the moral way.” These scholars also put Confucius’ present remark with what he declaims in 5.7—“If I cannot practice a proper way here in this world, then I shall take to the open sea and drift around on a bamboo raft.” The sea route could take him to a better place, away from the Chinese states to the home of the Nine Yi tribes of the east, where, according to the early writings on foreign places, the people were “simple and humane and had a love for life.” These scholars, therefore, disagree with those who associate the Nine Yi tribes with another group of barbarians living in the south, around the state of Chu, men whose way of life was “fierce and violent.” And when Confucius mentions the “gentleman,” is he talking about himself? Is he saying that he could have had a refining influence on the Yi barbarians? While most scholars think so, some feel otherwise, saying that Confucius would never have called himself a “gentleman.” The gentleman he had in mind, these scholars say, was probably Jizi, the older brother of the last king of Shang. According to the early sources, Jizi was as virtuous as his brother was depraved—Confucius describes him in 18.1 as a humane man—and after his dynasty fell, he refused to serve the new dynasty and was, therefore, enfeoffed in the eastern region, where the Yi barbarians dwelled. Thus Confucius, in this interpretation, seems to imply that because the gentleman, Jizi, had long ago settled among tribes of the Nine Yi barbarians, the people there could not be “uncouth.”
9.15 The Master said, “It was only after my return to Lu from Wei that music was correctly restored, with the ya and the song each finding its proper place.”
Ya and song are names usually associated with the “Major” and Minor” sections and the “Hymns” section of the Book of Poetry, but, here, as some commentaries point out, they probably refer to the music that accompanied the odes from the ya and song. And as for ya and song each “finding its proper place,” the early Qing scholar Mao Qiling writes, this must have meant that the music of, say, “The Deer Cry” [from the “Minor” section of the Odes] was played only at such celebrations as “the community drinking festival” and “the archery contest and the community feast,” which, according to the early Zhou rites, were the right occasions. To give music back its integrity was, in Confucius’ view, essential to the restoration of political order, something he was able to realize in Lu after his ret
urn in the winter of 484 BC.
9.16 The Master said, “Serving the duke and his high counselors in public life; my father and older brother at home; not daring to let myself be remiss in funerary duties; not to get addled by wine—I have no trouble with these things.”
Most scholars agree that the weight of this remark lies in the last part of the sentence, which could mean that these four things are so fundamental to human conduct that either “I have no trouble with them [heyou yu wo]” or most people could do these things and so “what need would there be for me [heyou yu wo]?”
9.17 Standing by the river, the Master declaimed, “How it flows on like this, never ceasing day and night!”
Commentaries give different explanations of Confucius’ remark here. Some understand it as Confucius’ lament about the passing of time, which, like the river moving forward, can never turn back. Others, such as the Han thinker Dong Zhongshu, try to force a moral reading on it, seeing the potential of water as the perfect metaphor for the strength, the equanimity, the perceptiveness, the wisdom, the pureness of character, and the courage of a virtuous man. The Song thinker Zhu Xi feels that the statement is about learning. To transform “without ceasing” is a “fundamental characteristic of the Way,” Zhu Xi writes, and “it is most evident in the flowing of water. Thus Confucius used this to bring home the message that all those who wished to learn should be vigilant [of their thought and action] constantly, not letting their effort slacken even for an instant.” The most cogent explanation of this passage, however, comes from Mencius, a much earlier follower of Confucius. Someone once asked Mencius, “Confucius more than once expressed his admiration for water, saying, ‘Water! Water!’ But what good did Confucius see in water?” Mencius replied, “Water from a source rushes forward, never ceasing day and night, filling all the cracks and hollows as it advances, before it drains into the sea. Everything with a source is like that, and this is the good Confucius saw in water.” The source explains the integrity of a river—that it is always moving, always alive, and that, unlike water “collected in the gutters,” it will never dry up.
9.18 The Master said, “I have never met a person who loved virtue as much as he loved physical beauty.”
The Han historian Sima Qian tries to fit this utterance into a particular moment of Confucius’ life, using it to explain why Confucius was disappointed with the ruler he was hoping to serve. “Duke Ling of Wei was out and about, riding in the same carriage with his consort,” Sima Qian writes, “and he made Confucius travel in a separate one behind him. Confucius said, ‘I have never met a person who loved virtue as much as he loved physical beauty.’” The historicized version seems affected. It lacks the elegance of the Song scholar Xie Liangzuo’s explanation, which says, “To like physical beauty and to dislike nasty odors are true expressions of one’s feelings. Thus if a person can love virtue as much as he loves physical beauty, this means that he truly loves virtue. Very few people can do this.” If we follow Xie Liangzuo’s reading, then what Confucius says here resonates with Zixia’s statement in 1.7.
9.19 The Master said, “I could use the example of building a mountain. If with just one more basketful of dirt to go I stopped, then I was the one who stopped [and left the work incomplete]. I could also use the example of leveling ground. If I heaped just one basketful of dirt, then progress was made and I was the one who moved the work forward.”
Nearly all the scholars say that the subject of Confucius’ statement is learning and cultivation. Entries 7.8, 7.19, 8.7, 9.11, and 9.21 are just a few of those in the Analects that could support such a reading. But what Confucius says here is also relevant to almost everything one sets out to accomplish. Mencius makes a similar point when he says, “To try to achieve anything is like digging a well. You can dig a hole nine fathoms deep, but if you fail to reach the source of water, it is just an abandoned well.”
9.20 The Master said, “The person I could talk to and never get tired—that was Hui [Yan Hui], wasn’t it?”
An alternative translation is: “The person I could talk to without seeing him ever growing tired—that was Hui, wasn’t it?” Both readings suggest that Yan Hui was pleased with what his teacher said and was able to absorb what he heard, and so in the first reading Confucius was never tired of speaking to him, and in the second reading Yan Hui was never tired of listening to Confucius speak.
9.21 The Master, referring to Yan Hui, said, “It is a pity! I saw him moving forward but did not see him complete his journey.”
Confucius’ regret was about Yan Hui’s untimely death, not about his not having the will to realize his potential.
9.22 The Master said, “There are seedlings that never grow to flower. And there are plants that have grown to flower but never bear fruit.”
Many scholars feel that it is reasonable to assume that Confucius’ comment here, like the previous one, is also about Yan Hui, about how early death had ended his chance for self-perfection. But this remains a conjecture. From a different perspective, one could say that the subject discussed here is the same as the one in 9.19.
9.23 The Master said, “The young should have our respect. How do we know that the coming generation may not prove to be the equal of the present one? If a man is forty or fifty and has not done anything to distinguish himself [buwen], then he is not worthy of our respect.”
Confucius thinks that the young deserve our respect because they are in their prime and are quick to learn. It is their youthful energy that gives them an edge over those who are already in midlife. Thus, he says, if you are forty or fifty and have not accomplished anything of distinction, this means that you have wasted your youth and so do not merit respect. A man of fifty in Confucius’ time was considered an old man, an ai, someone for whom “learning would no longer be easy.” Yet Confucius himself says, in 7.17, “Grant me a few more years so that when I reach the age of fifty, I may try to understand the principles of change and be able to steer clear of making mistakes.”
Some of the discussion in the commentaries is about the meaning of buwen—which, most scholars agree, has nothing to do with making a name. Confucius, in his conversation with Zizhang in 12.20, objects to the idea that the point of learning, and of cultivation, is “getting oneself known [wen].” Instead, he believes that if a person has applied himself to learning in his youth, it will be natural for him “to accomplish something of distinction [wen]” by the time he is forty or fifty. Thus one scholar suggests an alternative reading of the second sentence: “How do we know that what the future holds will not come up to our expectations now?”
9.24 The Master said, “How can one not agree with exemplary words? But what is important is that they will lead you to self-reform. How can one not be pleased with gentle and tactful words of advice? The important thing is to try to understand the point of such words. To be pleased [with someone’s advice] but not to try to understand [the point of his advice]; to agree with [someone’s words] but not [to let his words] bring about self-reform—there is nothing I can do with those who behave like this.”
Two words xun and yi occasioned some discussion in the commentaries. Xun, translated here as “gentle and tactful,” suggests that the words of advice are phrased in a way that does not violate the self-respect of the person who is being advised. Yi, translated here as “to try to understand the point,” literally means “to reel off the silk from cocoons,” but it also has a larger import, including the idea of “searching for the source, the beginning, or the principles of things.”
Liu Baonan, quoting the Han dynasty text the Huainanzi, says, “When listening to words that describe what is supreme virtue and what is noble action, even the base and the reprehensible would know to admire them. . . . Yet one would always find lots of people doing the admiring and very few trying to put these ideas into action. Why is that so? It is because people simply are unable to turn back their nature.”
9.25 The Master said, “A person should stay close to those who do their best and a
re trustworthy. He should not befriend those who are not his equals. And when he makes a mistake, he should not be afraid to correct it.”
This statement is identical to the last three sentences of 1.8. See my commentary on that passage.
9.26 The Master said, “One can strip the Three Armies of their commander, but no one can deprive even a commoner of his purpose.”
The Three Armies represented the entire military force of the state of Lu. They had been at the disposal of the ruler of Lu, but by the time of Confucius’ birth, they were in the hands of the three hereditary families. The Han scholar Zheng Xuan writes that even though the commander of the Three Armies is powerful, “his position still relies on the support of other people and so, when faced with a tough adversary, he can be ousted and replaced,” but “once a man, even a commoner, is set on his purpose, no one can take it away from him.”
9.27 The Master said, “Not to feel ashamed standing next to a man wearing fox or badger fur while himself dressed in a tattered gown padded with silk floss—this could only be You [Zilu]!”
