Very little was written in the early Chinese histories about Confucius during the fifteen or so years between his return to Lu and his employment by Duke Ding, namely where he was or what he was doing in his late thirties and forties. A few comments in The Analects do provide us, however, with some insight into his state of mind at the time. For example, he claimed, ‘At forty, I had no doubts,’8 suggesting that his confidence was unshaken by the various disappointing events of his thirties, including the exile of his lord, his failed attempt to serve as adviser to the Duke of Qi and his inability to find a government job in Lu. He also declared at some point that if, ‘by the age of forty or fifty, a man has not made a name for himself, he no longer deserves to be taken seriously’.9 It is possible that he made this statement earlier in his life, when he still imagined he would attain a civil service post. Perhaps the two statements together suggest that, at forty, he was more or less at peace with the idea that he was not going to become a government adviser, but had ‘no doubts’ about himself as a scholar and was content to devote himself to his academic research and teaching.
In another similar statement in The Analects regarding this age, Confucius said, ‘Whoever, by the age of forty, is still disliked, will remain so until the end.’10 It is tempting for this author to believe that the statement was a reference to his personal life. According to some accounts, Confucius divorced his wife around the year 510 BC, when he was forty-one and she was slightly younger.11 That same year he married his daughter off to his follower Gongye Chang. His adult son Li, or Boyu, had become one of his regular students (he too married, but records do not indicate when). Perhaps the stresses and uncertainties of Confucius’ career and the long stretches of time spent apart had strained their marital relations and made it impossible for them to live together after their children had grown up.
From contemporary records, we know that divorce was practised in the Zhou dynasty. In most cases it was the husband who divorced the wife, and there were ten grounds on which a man could do so, including adultery, barrenness, talkativeness and jealousy. A woman had fewer justifications to leave her husband, but she could divorce him if he beat her cruelly, deceived her in the marriage contract or deserted her, remaining away for three or more years without providing her with any support.12 We know that Confucius travelled to Luoyang and Qi, and it is not clear how long he remained in either place, but he very likely left her alone to look after their family while he was away. He did not earn a significant income on either trip, so it is hard to imagine how his wife and children managed themselves in his absence. It is therefore possible that his wife sued for divorce on the grounds of desertion during these periods. It may be the case that Confucius himself instigated the separation in order to concentrate on his teachings at the school. The decision to separate could have been mutual – they simply found each other difficult to live with. Since they were both around the age of forty, they may have considered the situation unlikely to improve. Finally, although the question of his possible divorce is one of the most tantalising mysteries about Confucius, as with many of the other pieces of his life puzzle, it may never have happened. As is implied by the ancestor tablet in the Confucius Temple in Qufu, on which both their names are inscribed as a couple, they may well have remained together, married, until his wife’s death in 485 BC.
Other biographers have suggested instead that the statement about being disliked at the age of forty alluded to his professional situation. By this age, Confucius had probably resigned himself to a life as a political outsider as long as the Three Families remained in power. During the fifteen or so years after his return to Lu, there is no record of him being employed in government. This is hardly surprising given his critical attitude towards the Three Families and what he perceived to be their illegitimate usurpation of power. In his eyes, however, the fact that he had not been offered a position by the current regime was more a reflection of their moral deficiencies and poor judgement than of any deficiency in his own abilities. That the Three Families had not hired him was nothing for him to be ashamed of. In fact, it was more in keeping with the ways of a true gentleman to maintain a distance from a corrupt government, and it would be shameful for the gentleman to work for it. In The Analects he summarised his approach to dealing with such a regime with the following words: ‘Uphold the faith, love learning, defend the good Way with your life. Enter not a country that is unstable; dwell not in a country that is in turmoil. Shine in a world that follows the Way; hide when the world loses the Way. In a country where the Way prevails, it is shameful to remain poor and obscure; in a country which has lost the Way, it is shameful to become rich and honoured.’13 Apparently he had no interest in serving the Three Families to achieve glory or riches, since by doing so he would be showing himself to be a lesser man.
Instead of working for the government, it would seem that Confucius chose to ‘hide’. According to Sima Qian, because of the corrupt nature of the Lu regime under the Three Families, ‘Confucius took no official post but edited The Book of Songs, Book of History, Book of Rites and Book of Music in retirement.’14 Over the centuries it has been the tendency of historians and biographers to accept Sima Qian’s claim that Confucius spent these years editing, compiling and writing commentaries on the texts that later became the core canon of Confucianism. The Book of Songs, The Book of History and The Book of Rites, along with The Book of Changes and The Spring and Autumn Annals, make up the Five Confucian Classics which have long been required reading for all students of his philosophy.15 We know that these works already existed in some form in his lifetime, because he himself studied some of the texts as a young man; and in The Analects he refers on a couple of occasions to The Book of History, and we read that he encouraged his son, Boyu, and his other students to read The Book of Songs and The Book of Rites as a means of sharpening their minds and cultivating their characters. While it is certainly possible that during these years Confucius devoted his time and energy to working on those texts, his exact role in the creation of what became the standard version of these important Confucian classics cannot be confirmed.
Sima Qian also notes that during this period, ‘more and more pupils came even from distant places to study under him’.16 Again, his professional situation at the time is uncertain but, because of the many different students mentioned in The Analects and other texts, it does seem likely that the number of his followers grew considerably. Having begun his school in his early twenties, Confucius was now a highly respected teacher with some government experience and a broader outlook on the world than many people of his day, so it is probable that many students from far afield sought to be educated by him. As before, his curriculum focused mainly on history, ritual, literature and song, and discussions of politics were no doubt common. Even though he is known to have said, ‘He who holds no official position discusses no official policies,’17 it is not difficult to imagine Confucius, an ardent critic of the Three Families, instructing his students about correct government practices using the golden age of the early Zhou period as the model of an ideal regime and the current administration as an example of government gone awry, of the world ‘losing the Way’.
During this period some of his older students, including Zilu, remained with him, his own son, Boyu, also becoming a follower. Many new students also added great colour and vivacity to his classroom (see Chapter 6). The diversity of backgrounds, generations and geographical regions represented by the students who gathered at his academy undoubtedly helped to make the decade or so that he spent ‘in hiding’ as a teacher a stimulating time for Confucius. Although he had longed to work in the government, the opportunity to spend so many years researching the classics and the ways of the ancients and discussing and debating them with such a lively group of bright, enthusiastic minds would have contributed greatly to the sense of satisfaction that he seems to have experienced in his forties. As he witnessed the Three Families act with disregard to tradition, it seems likely that his belief
in the necessity of propriety and ritual only strengthened. As he watched these usurpers and the various rebel leaders tear apart the basic structure of Lu society, his convictions about the importance of this hierarchy were sharpened. As he observed his students commit themselves to study and develop many of the virtues required of a gentleman, he realised more than ever how essential education and moral cultivation were for people who wished to right social wrongs. At forty, Confucius apparently had no doubts in his mind about what it would take to set his kingdom on an even keel again. A decade later his confidence reached an even higher level. In The Analects, he is said to have stated, ‘At fifty, I knew the will of Heaven.’18
It was when Confucius reached fifty that his student Zilu, as chief minister to Duke Ding, recommended that Confucius be assigned a government position. In 501 BC Confucius was appointed Chief Magistrate of Zhongdu, a town in Lu near the northern border with Qi. This was Confucius’ first government position in Lu since he had worked as a state husbandry manager in his early twenties. It seems that he was given this assignment far from the capital to test his abilities as a governor. If he succeeded he could be brought closer to the centre of power, but if he failed his post was in such a remote area that any damage he might cause would not impact on the rest of the state. Confucius was pleased to accept the job now that Duke Ding was at the helm, with the Three Families largely relegated to the role of his advisers again. After many years of theorising about how society should be run and criticising those who did it badly, Confucius was eager to put his theories into practice. He once declared, ‘If a ruler could employ me, in one year I would make things work, and in three years the results would show.’19 Now he finally had a chance to prove himself.
Confucius appears to have been true to his word. As the ruler of Zhongdu, he began by establishing himself as a moral example for his people, confident that, like a moral polestar, he could inspire his people to strive for higher standards.20 He went on to enforce the correct observation of rituals and protocols, both for the living and the deceased. According to certain texts, he assigned rules to govern the nourishment of the living and observances to the dead. Different foods were fed to the young and the old, and different burdens were given to the strong and the weak. Burials were streamlined and simplified, with coffins made to specific dimensions and thicknesses and graves built on high ground, without being covered with mounds or surrounded by trees. He ensured that the people of the town behaved according to their social position and with consideration towards each other. The older and stronger showed kindness to the younger and weaker, and were rewarded in return with obedience and respect. Males and females now respectfully kept apart on the street, and if an object was dropped on the road, passers-by would leave it so that its owner could return to reclaim it.21 Of this period in Confucius’ career Sima Qian notes simply that ‘after one year of administration, all the neighbouring districts were following his example.’22
Duke Ding was impressed by Confucius’ achievements in Zhongdu and asked him if he thought his rules for government could be applied to a whole state. When Confucius replied that they could even be applied to an entire kingdom, the Duke immediately promoted him to Assistant-Superintendent of Public Works, one of the three main branches of the Lu administration, the others being Civil Affairs and Military Affairs. In this position, although he reported directly to the head of the Mengsun clan, who was a chief adviser to the Duke, Confucius was no doubt pleased now to be at the centre of Lu government and close to the Duke. In the Public Works department he apparently surveyed the lands of Lu and made some improvements to agriculture. He was also given the politically delicate task of dealing with the placement of the tomb of Duke Zhao in the royal cemetery. After his body had been returned to Lu, the head of the Jisun clan, still bitter towards the Duke even after his death, had ordered that his grave be situated at a distance from the other royal tombs. Confucius was aware that this would isolate the Duke from his family in his afterlife, but he could not go against the will of the Jisun family. So, as a compromise, he arranged for a ditch to be dug around the entire cemetery, thus uniting the tomb of the Duke and those of his family in a single, delineated area. When the Jisun leader questioned him about this act, he claimed that he had done it to hide his own disloyalty towards the Duke.23 This response seems to have appeased, and perhaps even impressed, the Jisun leader, who pushed the issue no further.
Shortly afterwards, in either 500 or 499 BC, Confucius was promoted to the position of Minister of Justice of the state of Lu, the highest position he was ever to attain in government. It was probably in his capacity as chief law-maker of the country that he was invited by Duke Ding to go with him to the village of Jiagu on an important diplomatic mission, which had the goal of preventing further conflict with the northern state of Qi.24 The two states had been antagonistic neighbours for over a century. They intermittently took up arms against each other, and on many occasions enemies of the Lu government, such as Duke Zhao and his followers (including Confucius several years before) and later Yang Hu and Gongshan Furao, were granted asylum within Qi’s borders. Now, it appeared that Duke Jing of Qi was prepared to enter into a peace treaty with Duke Ding of Lu, so that the two states could end their conflict and focus their resources on defending themselves from other aggressors. Duke Ding realised that Confucius, with his extensive knowledge, would be an invaluable assistant at such a critical meeting, and Confucius was honoured to accompany the Duke. From the outset, Confucius apparently did not trust the Duke of Qi’s motives and recommended that Duke Ding also bring along military officers, saying, ‘I have heard that in peace men should prepare for war; in war they should prepare for peace. In the old days a baron never left his territory unless accompanied by military officials.’25
It turned out that Confucius was right to be suspicious. Apparently the Duke of Qi and his ministers were plotting to kidnap Duke Ding, and they planned to cause a distraction while Duke Jing’s own troops then seized Duke Ding. At the meeting the two dukes sat upon a platform and prepared to negotiate the terms of their peace treaty. Soon Confucius, who was serving as Master of Ceremonies for the Duke of Lu, noticed a group of men armed with pennants, feathers, spears, swords and the like approaching accompanied by the sound of drums. He protested, ‘Our two rulers are meeting in friendship: what is the meaning of this barbarian music? Let these men be dismissed by the officer in charge!’26 He may have been reacting out of concern for his lord’s safety, but it is more likely that he thought the music highly improper for such a serious occasion as the signing of a peace treaty. To Confucius, propriety concerning music and ceremony was of extreme importance, and the group from Qi had breached protocol. The Duke of Qi was embarrassed and ordered his chief officer to send the men away. Then another group of jesters, singers and dwarfs trooped up to the platform offering to perform palace music. Again Confucius was outraged and exclaimed, ‘Commoners who beguile their lords deserve to die.’ Apparently the performers were then put to death.27 The Duke of Qi’s officer in charge, who had been supervising these musical distractions, was Yan Ying, Confucius’ old adversary at the court of Qi. Yan Ying had undoubtedly been dismayed to see Confucius arrive at the meeting with the Duke. Now that Confucius had foiled their plans to kidnap Duke Ding he was furious, but he had no choice but to obey his lord.
After this failed attempt to disrupt the meeting and abduct Duke Ding, Duke Jing of Qi was forced to begin the peace summit in earnest, and the negotiations began. He demanded that the Duke of Lu send him 300 chariots of war that he could use in Qi against his foes. In return Duke Ding, apparently advised by Confucius, demanded that Duke Jing return to Lu some areas of land that Qi had seized from the state of Lu in the past. The Duke of Qi conceded this as a way of apologising for the earlier ritual insult caused by the musicians and performers. The two parties agreed to the terms and signed a peace treaty. At the conclusion of the ceremony the Duke of Qi proposed some entertainment, but Confucius again sp
oke out, declaring that after such a solemn agreement a rowdy celebration would be inappropriate, particularly in such a wild region so far from Luoyang. They left hastily and returned to the Lu capital. Confucius’ final statement was based in part on his concern for protocol, but he was also acting out of precaution, since he suspected that Duke Jing might still have been planning to overwhelm the Duke of Lu, using the entertainment as a distraction. Whether or not this was indeed his plan, the Duke of Qi and his entourage appear to have left the meeting in disgrace at having been outwitted by Duke Ding’s Master of Ceremonies.28
This meeting was probably the high point of Confucius’ political career. He had not only been able to help Duke Ding to negotiate a peace treaty with a hostile neighbouring state, but he had probably saved his life. He had used his intelligence and his knowledge to prevent a bloody battle between the two states. Furthermore, he had been able cleverly to turn a potentially dangerous situation to the advantage of his lord by shaming his enemy into agreeing to return territory that they had previously taken from Lu, thus expanding the Lu kingdom. That Lu had promised Qi 300 chariots seemed minor in comparison with the return of its precious lands. For Confucius this diplomatic mission must have been deeply satisfying, since it allowed him to fulfil his professional goal of serving as a wise adviser to a seemingly decent lord. He returned to the capital with the respect and gratitude of Duke Ding and with the reputation of being a shrewd politician who possessed remarkable powers of judgement.
After Confucius’ return to the capital, his judgement was tested on many occasions as Minister of Justice. One of the most famous cases that he is believed to have overseen was that of a father who sued his own son. A highly unusual legal situation in any culture at any point in history, this dispute represented for Confucius a painful breakdown at the very heart of the social order, namely the relationship between parent and child. It is not clear exactly what the father was accusing the son of, but Confucius’ ruling demonstrated considerable balance. He is thought to have consulted with various advisers, including some of his own students, and in the end he had both father and son locked up in jail for three months. He then dismissed them both. The leader of the Jisun clan was apparently baffled by Confucius’ decision, saying, ‘You are playing with me, Sir minister [sic] of Crime. Formerly you told me that in a State or a family filial duty was the first thing to be insisted on. What hinders you now from putting to death this unfilial son as an example to all the people?’ To this Confucius replied, ‘When superiors fail in their duty, and yet go to put their inferiors to death, it is not right. This father has not taught his son to be filial; – to listen to his charge would be to slay the guiltless. The manners of the age have long been in a sad condition; we cannot expect the people not to be transgressing the laws.’29
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