by Confucius
14.44 A young boy from Que took on the task of being a messenger [for the people] of this district. Someone asked Confucius, “Do you see him as someone who is eager to make progress in his learning?”
The Master replied, “I have seen this boy sitting down [in a gathering of adults] and walking abreast of his elders. He is not someone who seeks to make progress. He simply wants to grow up fast.”
According to several early sources, Que was Confucius’ home district. Here someone observes that a boy from Que, in spite of his young age, undertook the huge responsibility of relaying messages for the people in his community. Surely the boy was driven by his eagerness to learn and to make progress, the man says. Confucius, however, saw another aspect of this young boy’s character—that he would behave as if he were an adult and his elders’ equal. This, in Confucius’ view, suggested that the boy was not eager to learn, only eager “to grow up fast.”
BOOK FIFTEEN
15.1 Duke Ling of Wei asked Confucius about military formations. Confucius responded, “I know something about the use of ritual vessels but have not learned anything about commanding troops.” The next day, Confucius decided to leave Wei.
On his first visit to Wei, Confucius stayed for about five years, and for a long time he could not obtain an audience with Duke Ling. Some of his critics suggested that he even approached two disreputable characters in Duke Ling’s inner circle, Duke Ling’s wife and his doctor, imploring them for help. Now it seems that Confucius finally got his chance to have a face-to-face meeting with this man, yet just because Duke Ling asked the wrong question, he decided to leave Wei. But how could this be? Given how Confucius felt about sending troops to war—if you do not instruct them first, “this is the same as throwing them away”—it appears, from this conversation, that he realized he had been seeking the wrong man to serve. And just how soon did he leave? The text says “the next day,” but preparation for a long journey would have required weeks, if not months, and so it probably makes more sense to say that “the next day, Confucius decided to leave.”
15.2 In Chen, when their provisions ran out, [Confucius’] followers had become so weak that none of them could rise to their feet. Zilu, with a resentful look, said, “Does a gentleman find himself in circumstances as bleak as this?”
The Master said, “Of course the gentleman would find himself in circumstances as bleak as this. It is the petty man who would not be able to withstand it.”
Confucius and his disciples had many bad moments on their journey. The crisis in Chen or Cai was perhaps the darkest, for, as the Analects says, “their provisions ran out,” and it looked as if they might starve to death. The possibility of such an end—that is to say, to die without consequence in some forgotten wilderness—was something Zilu could not accept, and so he asked Confucius, Why should such ill luck befall a gentleman? And why should it not? was Confucius’ response—but a gentleman would persevere, and he would make peace with destiny should it turn against him, because he has done his best to perfect his character. It would be different in the case of a petty man, however—he would not be able to endure such a test.
These few lines from the Analects made an enormous impression on the early Chinese mind. Several historians and thinkers attempted their own versions of the crisis: Zhuangzi added poignancy and philosophical depth to the story through a dialogue he created between Confucius and Yan Hui; Xunzi pursued more closely the ideas in Confucius’ original utterance; and Sima Qian let the whole episode evolve into a work of the historical imagination.
15.3 The Master said, “Si [Zigong], do you think I am the sort of person who learns many things and who retains this knowledge in his mind?”
Zigong replied, “Yes. Is it not so?”
“No. I bind it together into a single thread.”
Since Confucius had said (in 7.2) that it had never been a problem for him “to retain knowledge quietly in [his] mind” and “to learn without ever feeling sated,” Zigong thought that this was an accurate description of his teacher, but Confucius disagreed. Here, he says that he binds knowledge together into a single thread. But just what could the “single thread” refer to? Most scholars point to 4.15, where Confucius says, “My way has a thread running through it,” and his disciple Zeng Can (Zengzi) explains that the thread pertains to zhong (doing one’s best to fulfill one’s humanity) and shu (treating others with an awareness that they, too, are alive with humanity). Liu Baonan and Qian Mu, however, feel that what Confucius says here has almost no relationship to 4.15. For what Confucius has in mind is not the question of how to live a moral life but the question of knowledge—just how to make sense of the many things that one has learned. Action is inseparable from knowledge in Confucius’ teaching, Liu Baonan says, and it is through action that one binds knowledge into a single thread. Confucius illustrates this point in 13.5, where he says, “A person may be able to recite the three hundred poems, but if he is unable to put [this knowledge] to full use when he is given a political assignment, . . . no matter how many poems he has learned, what good will it do?” The single thread, Qian Mu observes, could also refer to the binding principle in any category of knowledge. For example, Confucius thought that the three hundred poems “could be summed up in a single phrase: ‘They never swerve from the path.’”
15.4 The Master said, “You [Zilu], there are only a few who understand virtue [de].”
Qian Mu says that what Confucius means here is this: To understand virtue—to truly know it—one has to get it in oneself, through one’s own realization, something only a few people are able to do.
15.5 The Master said, “The one ruler who was able to order the world without taking any [deliberate] action [wuwei] was Shun. So what did he do? He held himself respectfully and faced south—that was all.”
What Confucius says here reinforces what he told Zilu about the gentleman in 14.42—that he “cultivates himself in order to acquire a respectful attitude” and “to give ease to the people.” From the point of view of the observer, it seems that this person is not doing anything, which is not so because even Yao and Shun found it difficult to realize.
The idea of wuwei (), doing nothing or not taking action, is usually associated with the teachings in the Laozi. Confucian scholars insist that there are fundamental differences between what Confucius says here about Shun and what the author of the Laozi says when he states, “The sage acts by doing nothing [weiwuwei], and everything is in order.” Some differences do exist, but it is also true that both teachings emphasize the ruler’s cultivation as key to an ordered world. And, in the words of the Confucian thinker Xunzi, a ruler who has succeeded in his effort possesses a subtle mind, one that is able to discern “the first sign of a crisis and evidence of something profound.”
15.6 Zizhang asked about getting on in the world. The Master said, “If you impart sincerity and trust in your words, and integrity and respect in your deeds, you will get on even in the lands of the barbarians. If you do not impart sincerity and trust in your words, and integrity and respect in your deeds, how can you get on even in your own region or in your own neighborhood? When you stand, you see the plumb lines in front of you. When you ride in a carriage, you see them resting on the crossbar. Only then will you be getting on in the world.”
Zizhang wrote down these words on his sash.
Zizhang was interested in having a career in government and being successful in that career. Put simply, he wanted to get on in the world. Confucius told him in 2.18 about how to prepare himself for an official career, and the advice there was pragmatic—that Zizhang should use his ears and eyes well and widely in order to make few mistakes in speech and have few regrets in action. Here the advice has a moral tone. To get on in the world, Confucius says, a person has to impart “sincerity and trust” in his words, “integrity and respect” in his deeds. In fact, he cannot depart from these measures for a moment, even when he is just standing or when he is traveling in a carriage. Zizhang must have wanted
to remember these words, because he wrote them down on his sash.
15.7 The Master said, “How upright Shi Yu was! He was straight as an arrow when the moral way prevailed in the state, and he was also straight as an arrow when the moral way was absent. How gentlemanly Qu Boyu was! He took office when the moral way prevailed, and he let his knowledge and skills be rolled up and hidden away when the moral way was absent.”
Both Shi Yu and Qu Boyu were counselors from the state of Wei. According to Han Ying’s Commentary to the Book of Poetry, Shi Yu, before he died, instructed his son to have his funeral conducted in the secondary hall and not in the main hall with the full rites. The reason for this, he said, was that he had failed as an advisor to the ruler, on account of which, a worthy man like Qu Boyu was not advanced and an unworthy man like Mi Zixia was not dismissed. The story is probably fictional, but it makes the point that Shi Yu was straight as an arrow even on his deathbed.
As for Qu Boyu, the records in the Zuo Commentary say that when the chief counselors of Wei drove their ruler out in 559 BC, one of them said to Qu Boyu, who was a young man at the time, “You know well about the tyranny and the cruelty of our ruler. [We expelled him] for fear that the state’s altar of grain and soil might be overturned. So what are your plans?” Qu Boyu said in response, “A ruler has the full authority of his state, and so who among his subjects would dare to oppose him? And even when one opposes him and topples him, how would one know [that the new ruler] is any better [than the old]?” Thereupon, “he got ready to leave, and he exited from the nearest gate.” Some twelve years later, on the occasion when the chief counselors were thinking of taking their ruler back, Qu Boyu again decided to get out of Wei. Each time, it seems, he did not stay away for long, and because he lived into his nineties, his tenure in government also had a long stretch. Thus we learn, in 14.25, that some sixty years after his first attempt to hide away his knowledge and skills, he was still alive and well in Wei. Confucius’ admiration for him is unmistakable, and, in Li Baonan’s view, he seemed to feel that Qu Boyu was worthier than Shi Yu because while “Shi Yu was upright in his conduct,” “Qu Boyu tried to keep the Way upright.”
15.8 The Master said, “Not to speak to a man who is capable of absorbing what you say is to let the man go to waste. To speak to a man who is incapable of absorbing what you say is to let your words go to waste. A person of wisdom does not let either men or words go to waste.”
Most scholars, in explaining the present statement, refer to a passage from the Balanced Discourses (Zhonglun), a work by the late Han thinker Xu Gan, who writes: “A gentleman must value his words. If he values his words, he respects himself. If he respects himself, he respects the way he follows. By respecting the way he follows, he is able to give his teaching integrity. If he squanders his words, then he belittles himself. If he belittles himself, he discredits the way he follows. And if he discredits the way he follows, then he is letting his teaching go to waste.” But just to value your words is not enough, Xu Gan observes, for in speaking to another person, it is important “to phrase your words in a manner that would not go beyond the knowledge and concerns of the person you are speaking to.” If you exceed that limit, he will be confused and become suspicious of your intention. “It is like showing someone with poor vision something indistinct or talking to someone hard of hearing in a whisper.” This, Xu Gan feels, was what Confucius was trying to get across. But Confucius said more. He felt that it was equally important not to miss an opportunity to speak to a person who can grasp what you are trying to say. This second point must have had extra significance for those who took teaching seriously.
15.9 The Master said, “A man of high purpose and a man with deep humaneness would not seek to stay alive at the expense of humaneness. There are times when they would sacrifice their lives to have humaneness fulfilled.”
Most scholars disagree with Kong Anguo’s comment that “men of high purpose and men of deep humaneness do not cherish their lives.” Qian Mu says, “What Confucian teachings emphasize is how to live. Only when a person knows how to live, will he know how to die.” And knowing how to live, the Qing scholar Jiao Xun notes, is about “making the right choices about life and death.” In Jiao Xun’s view, Mencius, illustrates this point when he says in 6A:10:
Though life is what I want, there is something I want more than life. That is why I do not cling to life at all cost. Though death is what I loathe, there is something I loathe more than death. That is why there are troubles I do not avoid. In a situation where there is nothing a person should desire more than life, if there are means to stay alive, why not use them! In a situation where there is nothing a person should loathe more than death, if a person can avoid troubles that could threaten his life, why not do it!
The situations where, Mencius thought, one should choose life over death would be “those where there is no rightness to be gotten.” The circumstances Guan Zhong found himself in provide an example. Confucius, in his defense of this man, says in 14.17, “How could Guan Zhong have acted out the petty loyalty of a common man or woman and committed suicide in a ditch?” To die in this way would have meant that he did not understand about life.
15.10 Zigong asked about the practice of humaneness. The Master said, “Artisans who wish to excel at their craft must sharpen their tools. When you live in any given state, you should serve the worthiest among the counselors and befriend the most humane among the educated professionals.”
As in 1.15, Confucius is again having a conversation with Zigong about refinement. Just as an artisan must sharpen his tools if he wants to perfect his craft, a person who wishes to practice humaneness must stay close to the worthy and the humane to come under their influence as he refines his own character.
15.11 Yan Yuan [Yan Hui] asked about how to govern a state. The Master said, “Follow the calendar of the Xia dynasty, ride in the carriages of the Shang, wear the ceremonial cap of the Zhou, and as for music, embrace the music of shao and wu. Ban the tunes of Zheng and keep at a distance from glib men. The tunes of Zheng are licentious. Glib men are dangerous.”
The question has been asked a number of times, and up to this point, Confucius has been calling for the ruler and the officials to rectify names and reform themselves. But here he is talking about the standard of rites and music and what calendar to use. This has led the scholars to believe that here he is considering a different kind of problem, one having to do with the change in the rules and practice of government: just what guidelines to follow and how to adapt the model of the true kings to changing circumstances. Confucius does not talk about how to adjust the model to change, but from his response to Yan Hui we know that this is what is on his mind, and from the preferences he specifies, one can work out the principles underlying his choice.
First, there is the matter of calendars. The differences among the three calendars in question had to do with which month a dynasty had designated as the first month, the “correct month” (zhengyue), of the civil year—the second new moon after the winter solstice, as in the Xia; the first new moon after the winter solstice, as in the Shang; or the lunar month that contains the winter solstice, as in the Zhou. Confucius thought that the Xia calendar suited the annual rhythm of farming communities, and so, he said, that was the one the government should use. And as for carriages, the Zhou carriages could be lavishly adorned, with jade, gold, ivory, or leather, but the plainest and sturdiest ones were simply made of wood with only a rush mat on the seat. The wooden carriage was also what the ruling elite of the Shang traveled in, and given the fact that Confucius preferred frugality in matters that had a ritual significance and were part of a public performance, this was what he favored. But in the case of ceremonial caps, he opted for the style of the Zhou, which was elegant but not extravagant. The cap also had pendants of jade beads hanging in front to stop the eyes from wandering, and silk bands hanging on the sides to block the ears from hearing any distracting sound. Confucius had already spoken about the glorious effe
ct the music of shao had on him: after he heard it, he “did not notice the taste of meat for the next three months.” He described this music and the music of wu as beautiful, which was not how he felt about the music of Zheng. The music of Zheng is like the voice of a glib man: one is lustful and the other treacherous, and both have the power to lead one’s judgment astray.
15.12 The Master said, “A person who does not think ahead about the distant future is sure to be troubled by worries close at hand.”
People who do not take preventive measures about potential troubles ahead will find themselves always having to deal with problems after they have arisen—this is the understanding of most scholars. But Qian Mu thinks that another reading is also possible: “Even with people who do not have worries in the far distance, they will surely have troubles right in front of them.”
15.13 The Master said, “I should give up hope! I have never met a person who loved virtue as much as he loved physical beauty.”
