Confucius

by Meher McArthur

  As with his government position, his job as a teacher was also put on hold for three years (from age twenty-four to twenty-seven) while he mourned the passing of his mother. Although he had only been teaching for a couple of years by this time, he had apparently already formed close enough relationships with several of his students to delegate some of the funeral arrangements to them. After burying his mother and father together in a tomb and raising the burial mound over their coffins, he returned home and left a group of his students to oversee the completion of the structure. Visiting later that evening, it was the students that told Confucius of the tomb’s collapse and witnessed their teacher burst into tears and lament that this was not the way tombs were built in antiquity.16 Because he trusted his students with such an important task as the construction of his parents’ tomb and then broke down emotionally in front of them, we can infer that even at the beginning of his career as a teacher he had a comfortable, familiar rapport with them. Such closeness was to be a feature of his relationship with his followers over the decades and undoubtedly contributed to their sense of mutual devotion.

  After Confucius completed his period of mourning for his mother, he continued teaching at his school and advancing his own studies at the same time. It is not clear whether he was still employed by the state of Lu, but he seems to have had connections with the court that enabled him to pursue his interests in ritual and music. Perhaps because of his reputation as an expert in ritual, he was invited in 525 BC to attend a banquet hosted by Duke Zhao of Lu for the Viscount of Tan, a small state near Lu. The Viscount was a great orator, and at the banquet he lectured about the various rituals held in his state, including the sacrifices made to Shaohao, one of the earliest mythological Chinese emperors who supposedly reigned from c. 2597 BC to c. 2514 BC. Confucius was so captivated by the speaker and his vast knowledge that he stayed with him long after the banquet ended to find out all he could about the rituals of Tan.17

  Confucius also studied music with Master Xiang, the chief bard of the court of Lu. Music was of great interest to him, in part because he derived immense pleasure from it, but also because he felt that it connected him with the people of ancient times. Under Master Xiang he learned to play music written by King Wen, one of the founders of the Zhou dynasty whom he greatly admired. He was deeply moved by these melodies and surmised that the music of the ancients ‘in so far as one can find out about it began with a strict unison. Soon the musicians were given more liberty; but the tone remained harmonious, brilliant, consistent, right on till the close.’18 From this statement it has been suggested that Confucius also considered music to be a metaphor for the development of the individual, as he strongly believed in the importance of understanding the rudiments of a subject before attempting to perform on one’s own, or improvise.19

  By his late twenties Confucius believed that he had mastered the basics of rites and protocol. He had spent his youth studying history and ritual and much of his twenties teaching the subject and perhaps even advising on etiquette at the court of Lu. His knowledge of both domestic protocol and that of the surrounding states meant that he could be invaluable at any diplomatic mission or treaty negotiation. He could ensure that the state’s ceremonies and events were conducted correctly, without any risk of causing offence to local or foreign attendees. ‘At thirty, I had planted my feet firm upon the ground.’20 Confucius felt ready to be put to the test in an important official capacity.

  It was around this time that Confucius caught the attention of a highly influential member of the government of Lu. In 518 BC, Meng Xizi, the chief minister of Lu and the head of the powerful Mengsun clan, was dying. On his deathbed he told his chief officer:

  A knowledge of propriety is the stem of a man. Without it he has no means of standing firm. I have heard that there is one K’ung Ch’iu [Kongqiu, or Confucius], who is thoroughly versed in it. He is a descendant of sages, and though the line of his family was extinguished in Sung [Song], among his ancestors there were Fu-Fu Ho [Fu Fuhe], who resigned the state to his brother, and Ch’ang K’ao-fu [Zheng Kaofu], who was distinguished for his humility. Tsang Heh [Zang Sunhe] has observed that if sage men of intelligent virtue do not attain eminence, distinguished men are sure to appear among their posterity. His words are now to be verified, I think in K’ung Ch’iu [Kongqiu]. After my death, you must tell Hochi [his son Heji, or Meng Yizi] to go and study proprieties under him.21

  Meng Xizi’s words were taken very seriously by his successor, and they were to give a new direction to Confucius’ career.

  Soon after Meng Xizi’s death his son and successor, Meng Yizi, and his brother (or close relative) Nangong Jingshu (also known as Nangong Guo), enrolled as students of Confucius. The wealth and prestige of these high-ranking students gave a considerable boost to Confucius’ status as a teacher. In addition, as their tutor, Confucius received a stipend from the government and was encouraged to advance his own studies through research and travel. Almost immediately, Confucius decided to use his new status to arrange a trip to Luoyang, the capital of the Zhou dynasty. His new student Jingshu took his request to the Duke of Lu, who allowed him to go with Confucius and granted them a chariot, two horses and a page boy22 for their journey. Other students may also have accompanied them to the capital, but Meng Yizi likely had to remain in Lu to carry out his duties as chief minister. Confucius’ wife and children presumably remained at home and were supported by some of his stipend.

  The journey to Luoyang was the first of many Confucius took out of the state of Lu. Unlike his later wanderings, however, this trip was entirely of his own volition, was fully funded, and was motivated by a desire for knowledge about his country and its history. The journey took him and his companions – who may also have included some other students – roughly 200 miles westwards across the northern Chinese countryside through the state of Wei (and possibly the state of Zheng) and into the state of Zhou, where the capital was located. It seems that, despite the ongoing rivalry between the various Zhou states, their trip was without political incident. Although they were sponsored by the Duke of Lu, this humble-looking group of scholars probably seemed unthreatening to local authorities and uninviting to bandits.

  For much of the distance they probably followed and marvelled at the famous Yellow River, which winds 3,000 miles through northern China, from the Tibet–Qinghai Plateau to the Yellow Sea. The river derives its names from the millions of tons of yellowish-brown silt called loess that it picks up along its journey and then deposits as it approaches the sea, along a corridor known as the Yellow River Valley. The Yellow River is often referred to as the cradle of Chinese civilisation because the loess is highly fertile, and in Neolithic times agricultural communities rose up where the loess was deposited, planting such crops as millet, green onions and ginger. However, for centuries the river has been both a blessing and a curse for farmers, as the large quantities of loess often caused the river beds to rise and the water to pour over the walls and levees built by the farmers to protect their fields. The Yellow River has changed its course many times in history, delivering its blessings and curses to nearby inhabitants as it snaked its way through the region. Confucius is said to have once stood by a river and said, ‘Everything flows like this without ceasing, day and night.’23 Perhaps it was this powerful, relentless river that inspired his observation about the continuity of life.

  After a week or two of travelling, the group arrived at the capital. The city of Luoyang, known in Confucius’ time as Zhengzhou, was originally established in the eleventh century BC by the Western Zhou as a settlement for members of the defeated Shang court, but in 770 BC, under the weakened Eastern Zhou dynasty, the city became the capital of the Zhou Empire and was the centre of Zhou court and religious life. Although the Eastern Zhou kings had all but lost political power in their empire, they still maintained religious authority. They were in charge of the rituals dedicated to the powerful spirits of the Zhou ancestors and the sacrifices made to Heaven and Earth,
and as such were responsible for maintaining harmony between the human world and the spirit world. As a city of ritual and ceremony, Luoyang held enormous appeal for Confucius, since it was here that the Duke of Zhou and other Zhou heroes were honoured. Until now Confucius had studied the history of the Zhou dynasty from afar. In their capital he was at the very heart of their world, the perfect place to expand his knowledge of Zhou history and ritual. Such knowledge, he hoped, would render him invaluable to the government of Lu on his return.

  At Luoyang Confucius’ primary interest was in the royal areas dedicated to ritual and ceremony. He visited the grounds where the Zhou rulers conducted sacrifices to Heaven and Earth and the temple dedicated to the Zhou ancestors. He avidly took notes on the arrangements of both sacred sites, perhaps with the intention of creating similar ones back in Lu. In the ancestral temple he noticed an unusual metal statue of a man with three clasps on his mouth and an inscription extolling the virtues of silence, and he encouraged his companions to heed this advice. He also visited the Zhou court and was particularly impressed by the Hall of Light, where the king received foreign guests. On the walls of the great Hall were paintings of ancient kings from the legendary Yao and Shun until the present Zhou ruler. Each painting bore the name of the ruler and an inscription containing words of warning and praise. This display was no doubt intended to impress any visitor to the Hall with the historical importance of the Zhou rulers. Confucius was profoundly moved by this and observed to his companions, ‘Here you see how Zhou became so great. As we use a glass to examine the forms of things, so must we study antiquity to understand the present time.’24

  Confucius was also keen to learn about music while in the royal city and met with a court musician by the name of Chang Hong. Typically, court musicians were blind, and Confucius pointed out this fact to his students on one occasion. But Chang Hong must have been an exception to this rule, as he was apparently impressed with Confucius’ appearance, noting his ‘river eyes’ and ‘dragon forehead’, his long arms and great height. He was also struck by his knowledge of history and the ways of past kings, remarking, ‘He moves along the path of humility and courtesy. He has heard of every subject and retains with a strong memory. His knowledge of things seems inexhaustible. Have we not in him the rising of a sage?’25

  According to traditional accounts the high point of Confucius’ visit to Luoyang was his meeting with Laozi, the philosopher who is often credited with founding Daoism and authoring its main text, the Daode jing. Laozi was an older man and worked as a librarian or archivist for the Zhou court. The two great men sat and talked about philosophy, and when Confucius was leaving Laozi offered the younger man some valuable advice: ‘A shrewd observer, prone to criticise others, risks his own life. A learned man who exposes the faults of others endangers himself. A filial son must never thrust himself forward, and neither may a good subject.’26 He also warned Confucius, ‘I have heard that a good merchant, though he has rich treasures deeply stored, appears as if he were poor, and that a superior man whose virtue is complete, is yet to outward appearance seemingly stupid. Put away your proud air and many desires, your insinuating habit and wild will. These are of no advantage to you.’27 Confucius left the meeting so amazed by the older man that he was briefly unable to speak. Then he recounted to his students, ‘I know how the birds can fly, how fishes can swim, and how animals can run. But the runner may be snared, the swimmer may be hooked, and the flyer may be shot by the arrow. But there is the dragon. I cannot tell how he mounts on the wind through the clouds, and rises to Heaven. Today I have seen Lao-tsze [Laozi], and can only compare him to the dragon.’28

  This meeting was supposedly a critical moment in Confucius’ life, and the conversation between the founders of China’s two principal philosophical systems has long been considered a highly symbolic moment in Chinese history, one which was depicted in art from as early as the Han dynasty. However, it is unlikely that Confucius and Laozi ever actually met. Early histories, including the work of Sima Qian, place Laozi in the sixth century BC as a contemporary of Confucius, but among modern historians there is great debate not only about when he lived, but whether he existed at all. Some scholars suggest that he lived during the fourth or third century BC, two or three hundred years after Confucius. Others argue that Laozi is a purely mythical figure or, more likely, a synthesis of various historical characters. A meeting with Laozi was therefore chronologically impossible. Confucius may indeed have met with an older philosopher in Luoyang and received some wise advice from him, but it is doubtful that we will ever know who this man really was.

  Confucius probably spent several months in Luoyang, familiarising himself with the ways of the royal city. Back in Lu, he no doubt expected to be able to put his new knowledge to use in a government position, but shortly after his return the political situation there became so unstable that it was impossible for Confucius to remain in his home state. Lu was one of the weaker states in the Zhou territories at this point, and increasingly faced threats and harassment from some of the larger states and coalitions of states forming to the west and south. To preserve its independence, it may have in fact become a protectorate of its northern neighbor Qi, which was much richer but was also struggling to maintain its political power. Throughout most of his twenty-five-year reign, Duke Zhao of Lu had been plagued by internal strife, mostly caused by the power struggle among the Jisun, Mengsun and Shusun clans. The combination of internal and external conflicts had undermined his political, financial and military strength to such an extent that, around the year 516 BC, a relatively minor incident resulted in his downfall. A noble of the Jisun clan was involved in a cock fight with a rival nobleman and an argument broke out in which the Jisun noble insulted Duke Zhao. The Duke sent troops to arrest the offensive nobleman, who resisted. His clan then joined forces with the Mengsun and Shusun, and together the three rival clans forced the Duke to flee to Qi in the north. The Duke remained there in exile until his death several years later.29

  Because of Confucius’ close association with Duke Zhao, it was no longer safe for him to remain in Lu. Accompanied by several students, including Zilu, he followed the Duke to Qi, hoping his stay there would be brief. It is not clear whether his family went with him to Qi or remained in Lu, as texts typically do not mention his wife and children when recounting any of his travels. On the way to Qi he and his party passed by Mount Tai, China’s most sacred mountain, according to Daoist beliefs. This legendary mountain sat on the border between the two states and was largely beyond the reach of the governments of either state. In this no man’s land they encountered a woman who sat by a graveside weeping. Confucius sent his student Zilu to find out why she was crying. They learned that her husband’s father and her husband had both been killed by a tiger at this spot, and her son had just met the same fate. Though saddened by her tragic story, Confucius asked her why she stayed in such a dangerous place. Her response was that this area was not ruled by an oppressive government. At this, Confucius, always the teacher, turned to his students and explained, ‘My children, remember this. Oppressive government is fiercer than a tiger.’30

  Upon his arrival in the state of Qi Confucius soon realised that he was in a civilised land. Even in the countryside the people seemed to be influenced by ancient culture. He caught sight of a young man carrying a pitcher of water who walked as if moving to the sound of ancient music, and urged his driver to hurry to the capital so that he could learn more about this state. Once there, he is said to have made the acquaintance of the chief court musician. With him Confucius discussed ancient music and studied the Coronation Hymn of the Emperor Shun, also known as shao music, and was so captivated by it that for three months he forgot the taste of meat. ‘I never imagined that music could attain such perfection,’ he exclaimed.31

  Confucius soon gained an audience with Duke Jing, the ruler of Qi. The Duke of Qi was initially well disposed to Confucius, since he had apparently met him on an earlier visit to Lu. Confucius ha
d given him valuable advice about how to make his own state more powerful, including the suggestions that a king should aspire to morally correct behaviour and that he should hire advisers on the basis of their merit and not their social status.32 Now that Confucius was in Qi, Duke Jing questioned him more thoroughly about successful government practices and Confucius readily provided advice. The Duke was apparently so impressed by his conversations with Confucius that he offered him a small town to rule. But Confucius refused the gift, telling his followers that a gentleman should only receive a reward for services that he has performed, and since the Duke had not actually followed any of the advice he had given him so far, he could not accept his gift. ‘Very far is he from understanding me!’ he declared.33

  Duke Jing continued, nonetheless, to question Confucius about government, and Confucius offered him some of his most profound words of political advice: ‘Let the prince be a prince, the minister a minister, the father a father and the son a son.’34 These words relate to his doctrine of ‘Rectifying Names’, which was supremely important in this theory of government. If a prince behaved in a tyrannical manner towards his people, Confucius argued, he should be called a tyrant, not a prince. If he stole from his people, he should be called a thief, and so on. To Confucius, the correct use of language was crucial to social order and peace. ‘If the names are not correct, language is without an object. When language is without an object, no affair can be effected. When no affair can be effected, rites and music wither. When rites and music wither, punishments and penalties miss their target. When punishments and penalties miss their target, the people do not know where they stand.’35 If all people at all levels of society behaved in accordance with their names, then a prince would be prince-like, ministers would be minister-like, a father would be father-like, and sons would be son-like. Over the course of history, some leaders have mistakenly interpreted this doctrine to mean that subjects should simply accept their positions in a strict social hierarchy and not question or challenge their leaders. In fact, Confucius had very strong views about what it was to be a true prince or minister. With their authority came great responsibility, he warned. Only if these leaders acted with benevolence and compassion towards their subjects would they deserve their respect, loyalty and obedience. The same principles applied to the smaller family unit, with each member acting with kindness and decorum according to their own position within the family.