by Confucius
10.9 After he had assisted his lord in a sacrifice, he did not keep his portion of the sacrificial meat overnight. And he did not let the meat from a sacrifice conducted in the family sit for more than three days. After three days he would not eat that meat.
From preparation to completion, sacrifices conducted in the political world usually took three days: the sacrificial animal was slaughtered in the early morning on the first day; the king and the regional rulers would perform the sacrifice on the second day; and the ceremony would last another day, with the first- and second-level officials assisting their regional ruler in this round of sacrifice. Thus by the time the officials and the guests were sent home with a portion of the sacrificial meat, three days would have passed, and, in Confucius’ view, this meat might spoil if it was allowed to sit overnight. He applied the three-day rule also to the meat used in a family sacrifice.
10.10 He did not speak [yu] during meals and did not converse [yan] when he was resting in bed.
Traditional scholars distinguish between yu (discussing a serious topic) and yan (carrying on a casual conversation).
10.11 Even when the meal was just coarse grain and vegetable broth, he always set aside a portion as an offering, and he did so with solemnity and respect.
An alternative reading is: “Even when all he had was coarse grain, vegetable soup, and melon, he would make the offering with solemnity and respect.” In either case, the point is that Confucius always remembered his ancestors at mealtime, and no matter how simple the food might be, he would make his offering in a respectful manner.
10.12 He did not sit unless the mat was properly straightened.
Many scholars believe that the slip of bamboo text with this passage was misplaced—that it should have been bundled together with “He did not eat meat that was not properly cut off” in 10.8. In fact, this was how the passage was found in several early texts: “Confucius did not sit unless the mat was properly straightened and did not eat meat that was not properly cut off.”
10.13 When celebrating a drinking festival in the local community, he left as soon as those with walking sticks had left.
Commentaries on the Book of Rites mention four types of drinking festivals at the local level, and the one described here seems to fit the zha sacrifice, which took place toward the end of the year with the village elder as the host and those over the age of sixty as the honored guests. Scholars say that the respect Confucius showed toward those “with walking sticks” seems to resonate with the point of the occasion and its ritual regulations, which specified just who could sit and who should stand and how many dishes a sixty-year-old, a seventy-year-old, or an eighty-year-old was allowed. Yet despite the orderliness these rules suggest, the Book of Rites also records that when Confucius asked his disciple Zigong whether he enjoyed the zha festival he had just attended, Zigong said, “People in our entire state seem to have gone crazed. So how could I have enjoyed it?” This, of course, meant that the drinking had gotten out of hand. In response, Confucius told Zigong to loosen up: “To work hard for a whole year and to have just one day of pleasure is not something you are able to understand. To live under pressure all the time without any leisure was something that even King Wen and King Wu could not achieve. To live in leisure and never feel any pressure was something King Wen and Wu would not do. To allow both pressure and leisure in one’s life was the way of King Wen and King Wu.”
10.14 When the villagers were performing the nuo [to drive away the spirits of disease and pestilence], he would put on his court robe and stand on the eastern steps.
The nuo, like the zha festival, was an occasion with the potential of spinning out of control because it involved the whole community—thus a large crowd—plus exorcism and again drinking. And while this was going on, why did Confucius stand on the eastern steps, dressed in his court robe? Kong Anguo from the Han says that Confucius stood outside the ancestral temple to assure the spirits inside that the nuo was meant to drive away harmful spirits but not them. Other scholars think that the gesture showed Confucius’ willingness to accept certain popular beliefs and that by putting on a court robe he brought a certain amount of dignity to the occasion, which in turn would discourage others from going too far.
10.15 When he asked after someone in another state, he would bow twice [as if the person were present] before seeing the messenger off.
Bowing twice emphasized the sincerity of one’s greeting, and the type of bowing Confucius performed, Liu Baonan says, was not qishou (prostrating with both hands and head on the ground) but kongshou (prostrating with hands on the ground and head lowered but not all the way to the ground). Liu also says that since Confucius was not acting in any official capacity, the person being asked after was probably a friend; and that he must have included a gift with his message, since that was the custom.
10.16 When Ji Kangzi sent him a gift of medicine, he bowed and accepted it, and he said [to the messenger], “Since I don’t know anything about this medicine, I dare not taste it.”
Ji Kangzi was the chief counselor of Lu and probably the man responsible for inviting Confucius back to Lu after his long absence. Here ritual etiquette demanded that Confucius accept this man’s gift, but since the gift was medicine—something that could be harmful to the body if one ingested it without knowing its properties—he gave the messenger what seemed like a reasonable explanation for not tasting it, and because his decision was based on good sense, Confucius did not think that it violated ritual propriety.
10.17 The stables caught fire. [Having learned about it] upon his return from court, the Master asked, “Was anyone hurt?” He did not ask about the horses.
Scholars believe that the stables referred to here were Confucius’, for if the fire had happened on state property, there would have been a record of it in the official chronicle, but the Spring and Autumn Annals of the state of Lu does not mention such an incident. Thus the damage done was to his personal property, yet Confucius asked only if anyone got hurt in the course of the fire.
10.18 When the ruler bestowed on him a gift of cooked food, he would taste it right away after he had straightened his sitting mat. When the ruler sent him a gift of uncooked meat, he would cook it and make an offering to his ancestors. When the ruler sent him a live animal, he would raise it at home.
When he was assisting his ruler at a meal, while the ruler was making an offering, he would taste the food first.
Most commentaries refer to the Yuzao (“Beads of Jade”) chapter of the Book of Rites to explain why Confucius would “taste the food first” (xianfan) while the ruler was making an offering. According to this source, if an official was a guest of his ruler at a meal, he would make an offering after the ruler had made his. But if the official was merely assisting his ruler, then he could not make an offering, and the correct decorum was for him “to taste the food for his ruler and then to take a drink and wait until the ruler was ready to eat.”
10.19 When he was ill and the ruler paid him a visit, he lay with his head to the east, and with his court robe draped over him and his grand sash placed across his waist and hanging down [the side of his bed].
It was in observance of correct decorum that a sick person, upon an impending visit from his ruler, would have his bed placed so that he would be facing his ruler when the latter entered his room. And since the spatial arrangement of a room in early China was such that one would enter the door in an eastward direction, the person lying on the bed with his head to the east would be able to face his visitor. And here we see that Confucius also insisted on greeting the ruler in his court robe and grand sash.
10.20 When the ruler’s order came to summon him to court, he would set off on foot, without waiting for the carriage to be harnessed.
When Mencius’ disciple Wan Zhang asked whether Confucius acted appropriately in this situation, Mencius said yes, because Confucius was an official at the time and the duties of his office demanded that he respond as fast as he could to the ruler�
�s request. Xunzi says essentially the same: “not to wait for the carriage to be harnessed and to just throw some clothes on and set off on foot” when a counselor is summoned by his lord is “correct rites.”
10.21 When he entered the Temple of the Great Ancestor, he asked questions about everything.
This repeats what was recorded in 3.15. See the commentary on 3.15.
10.22 When a friend died, if this person did not have a kinsman who could take his body in [and give him a proper service], he would say, “I will arrange to have his funeral in my house.”
Scholars point out that one should put this in the context of a longer passage in the Book of Rites, which reads: “When a guest [from afar] could not find a place to stay, Confucius would say to him, ‘I have a place for you in my house. [In fact, you are welcome here] when you are living, and should you die while you are staying with me, I can also arrange to have your funeral in my house.’”
10.23 Unless the present from a friend was sacrificial meat, in accepting it he did not bow, even when the present was as sizable as a carriage and horses.
Horses and carriages were heavy gifts, while sacrificial meat seems slight, but one had the weight of commodities while other abounded with ritual significance. And of the two—and, in fact, of all the gifts bestowed on him—Confucius would accept only sacrificial meat with the utmost respect. Such was the way Confucius decided on the importance of things.
10.24 In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. At home, he did not carry himself like a guest.
A corpse is a body, a shell, “without its master,” says the Han dictionary: it simply cannot hold itself together. Thus Confucius would not “lie in bed like a corpse,” but neither was he so disciplined that he would assume the demeanor of a guest when he was at home.
10.25 Whenever he met a person in mourning clothes, though the person might be a close friend, he always changed his countenance [to assume a grave expression]. Whenever he met a person wearing a ceremonial cap or a person who was blind, though the person might be on familiar terms with him [xie], he always greeted the person with the utmost courtesy. When he passed by a person dressed in funeral attire, he always leaned forward with his hands on the crossbar of his carriage [to show his respect]. The same could be observed even when the person was someone carrying official documents [of maps and household registration] [fubanzhe].
Some scholars argue that xie could also mean “lowly” and that the character ban in fubanzi could be a misprint for the character fan, meaning “a peddler.” The alternative reading for the second sentence to the end thus becomes: “Whenever he met a person wearing a ceremonial cap or a person who was blind, though the person might be from a lowly class, he always greeted him with the utmost courtesy. When he passed by a person dressed in funeral attire, he always leaned forward with his hands on the crossbar of his carriage. The same was observed even when the person was a peddler.” According to these scholars, the point here is that when the context was mourning, Confucius was consistent in his conduct toward others, irrespective of their social standing.
There is also some disagreement among scholars about the social position of the person carrying documents consisting of maps and household registration. Some say that such a man commanded respect in the Zhou because he held in his hands the official record of all the people living in his state. Others feel that such a man was merely a lowly clerk, an errand boy. I follow the latter because it is consistent with the central idea in this part of the description.
When a sumptuous meal was brought forth [to honor the guest], he would always change his expression and rise to his feet [out of respect for the host].
He would also change his expression when there was a clap of thunder or a fierce wind.
One would change one’s expression when something new or unexpected was introduced into the circumstances. The change, in the case of Confucius, often had a ritual overtone, and here we see that he would change his expression when he was in the presence of mourners, of a generous host, or of an unusual natural phenomenon. To the mourners and his host, he showed respect, but he was in awe of nature’s prodigies, though he did not speak about them because he did not talk about things he did not understand.
10.26 When climbing into a carriage, he always held his body erect as he clutched the mounting rope in his hand. When inside the carriage, he did not keep looking all around; he did not talk in a loud voice or at rapid speed; and he did not point at this or that.
Since the Han there has been a lot of discussion of the second sentence, about Confucius’ gaze while he was in the carriage. Some understand it to mean that Confucius did not look backward so as to block the views of others in the carriage. Others say that he did not look beyond the crossbar in front or either side of the carriage. Both explanations, in Liu Baonan’s view, come to the same conclusion: that Confucius “absorbed what he saw and heard” inside the carriage. This was also the reason why he “did not talk in a loud voice or at rapid speed” and why he “did not point at this or that.”
10.27 Startled by the signs of an unfriendly presence, it rose up and circled a few times before alighting. [The Master] said, “The female pheasant on the mountain bridge—how timely, how timely!” Zilu saluted it. The bird flapped its wings three times [sanxiu] and flew away.
Many scholars find this passage hard to handle. The character xiu in sanxiu, for instance, means “to sniff,” but in the context of the present description, it does not make sense. Was the bird sniffing at something Zilu gave her? If so, why were we not told about it first? This led the Song Confucian Zhu Xi to conclude that there had to be gaps in the record. Other scholars say that xiu () was probably a loan word for ju (), which could mean either “to stare” or “to flap one’s wings.” Other questions about this passage made some suspect the record’s authenticity. The contemporary scholar Qian Mu, however, simply accepts it as an epiphanic moment in Confucius’ life when he observed how the mountain bird responded to his sudden presence in her world. Confucius called it “timely,” a word others used to distinguish him from other sagely men of the past. Though he would never have described himself in this way, timeliness was what Confucius sought in his conduct: he loved the moral immediacy of the idea and its aesthetic possibilities.
BOOK ELEVEN
This chapter is about Confucius’ disciples. Again dialogues are important because they allow us a close look at Confucius’ relationship with the disciples: just how he talked to them and sized them up and what he meant to teach them when he conversed with them.
11.1 The Master said, “Those who studied rites and music before [entering government service] were rustics [yeren]. Those who studied rites and music after [they had entered government service] were men from hereditary families [junzi]. When it comes to the question of employment, I prefer those who studied rites and music first.”
There are many theories about the use of “before” and “after.” Some scholars say that it refers either to the rulers before and after the Three Dynasties or to the rulers before and after the founding of the Zhou dynasty. Others think that “before” refers to Confucius’ early disciples, those who followed him on his “journey around the states,” and “after” refers to the later disciples, those who came to study with him after he had returned to Lu. I, however, am persuaded by Liu Baonan’s reading, which is reflected in my translation. “Before,” Liu argues, refers to men who were not aristocrats and so had to get an education in rites and music before they were considered for an official position, while “after” refers to men who inherited their position in government and so began to study the rites and music only when they were already in office. And of these two groups, Confucius would recommend the former for office—men, like himself, who had to rely on their knowledge of rites and music and their hard work to gain a footing in government. Confucius also had more trust in these men who were from a simpler background because, unlike those from the hereditary families, they were better men and better
prepared in making the right judgment before they stepped into the messy world of politics.
There is also some discussion in the commentaries about yeren and junzi. Yeren could refer to rustics, or “men of the field”—men who lived in the countryside and not in fortified towns. Junzi is a more complicated issue, for in the Analects the term usually refers to a morally superior man, but here it takes its older meaning of “men born with hereditary status.”
11.2 The Master said, “Those who followed me [on my travels] to Chen and Cai are no longer studying with me now.”
This chapter of Confucius’ travels received a lot of the attention in the early writings, probably because during this stretch of his journey “provisions ran out” and Confucius nearly starved to death. But Confucius was not alone, as he tells us here and in 15.2, and the disciples who followed him to the wilds of Chen and Cai were Zilu, Zigong, and Yan Hui. None of these disciples was with him, however, after he returned to Lu: Zigong had a position in the state of Qi, Zilu had been killed in violent political struggle in the state of Wei, and Yan Hui had died of illness.
The alternative reading—“None of those who followed me [on my travels] to Chen and Cai had an official position then”—is probably influenced by Mencius’ remark that Confucius “was in a dire strait somewhere between Chen and Cai because he had no political connections at court.”
