The Analects

by Confucius

  7.18 The Master always used the correct pronunciation [yayan] when reciting the Odes and the Book of Documents and when presiding over the rites. On all these occasions, he used the correct pronunciation.

  “Correct pronunciation” (yayan) refers to how words sounded in the royal court of the capital of the Western Zhou. The Odes and the Book of Documents are “the textual authority on the rules and regulations and the governing principles of the early Zhou kings,” the Han scholar Zheng Xuan says. And Confucius believed that mistakes could be made and nuances could be lost if he recited these poems and documents in contemporary pronunciation or in his native Lu dialect, and that only with “correct pronunciation” would he be able to delve into the depths of their meaning. The same, he felt, would be true if he did not use “correct pronunciation” when speaking in a ritual performance. The word ya, here translated as “correct,” could also mean “classical” or “elegant,” and it is often paired with su, meaning “colloquial” or “vulgar.” It is also used to distinguish itself, which represents the royal center, from what is local or regional, as in the ya and the feng sections of the Book of Poetry.

  7.19 The Governor of She asked Zilu about Confucius, and Zilu gave no answer. The Master later said to Zilu, “Why didn’t you simply say that he is the sort of person who forgets to eat when pursuing a question, who forgets to worry when suffused with joy, and who does not note that old age is coming?”

  According to the Han scholar Kong Anguo, the reason why Zilu “gave no answer” was that he did not know how to characterize Confucius. And the person who asked him the question, the Governor of She, had been a counselor in the court of Chu. He became the administrator of She in 491 BC, after Chu annexed this district from the state of Cai. Confucius traveled to She in around 489 or 488, thinking that a position might be waiting for him there. From the records in the Analects (13.16 and 13.18), it appears that the Governor of She took Confucius seriously: he sought his advice on questions concerning government and criminal justice. But the conversation here seems to have taken place before the two met, because the Governor of She wanted to find out from Zilu what his teacher was like. The response Confucius gave in absentia, however, was a bit of surprise—he gave a simple description of what he was really like and said nothing about his professional credentials.

  7.20 The Master said, “I was not born with knowledge, but I love antiquity, and I work hard in pursuing it.”

  My commentary on 6.27 and 7.1 may help explain why Confucius feels that a love for antiquity and a drive to understand it can take him to knowledge, which, he says, he was not born with. Studying the past and having a love for it inspires a person “to articulate [his] own ideas” and “beckons [him] to draw analogies,” and so the knowledge he gains belongs to him.

  7.21 The Master did not speak about prodigies, extraordinary shows of strength, chaos, and spirits.

  The third-century thinker Wang Bi writes, “‘Prodigies’ [guai ] refers to strange and inexplicable phenomena; ‘extraordinary shows of strength’ [li ] refers to such feats as Ao making the boat sway and Wu Huo lifting an object of one thousand jun [thirty thousand pounds]; ‘chaos’ [luan ] refers to ministers killing their rulers and sons murdering their fathers; and ‘spirits’ [shen ] refers to ghosts and spirits. Either such things do not add anything to moral instructions or Confucius simply could not bear to talk about them.”

  What Confucius could not bear to talk about, Huang Kan says, were matters related to chaos, and as for “prodigies,” “extraordinary shows of strength,” and “spirits,” Confucius did not believe that they had anything to do with what he was trying to teach.

  7.22 The Master said, “When the three of us are walking [xing], I am bound to find my teachers there. I would single out the good points in others and try to follow them, and I would notice their bad points and try to correct them in myself.”

  Liu Baonan writes: “When Confucius speaks about xing [] [walking], it seems that he is talking about the xing in xingwei [] [action] and the xing in yanxing [] [speech and conduct]. And when three persons are walking, there is really no one among them who is worthy or stupid. Their good points and bad points will become apparent, depending on how they handle each matter as it arises, and so one would choose to follow the good points and correct the bad points in oneself. Confucius, therefore, is not saying that [when someone is walking in the company of two] one person is good and the other person is bad.”

  7.23 The Master said, “Heaven has given me this power—this virtue [de]. What can Huan Tui do to me!”

  Huan Tui, according to the history in the Zuo Commentary, had been a favorite of the ruler of Song since he was a young man, and by the time he and Confucius crossed paths, he had risen to the position of minister of military affairs in that state. From Confucius’ utterance here, it seems that Huan Tui was behind a scheme to have him killed, but it is not clear whether the plot had not yet unfolded when he said these words and Huan Tui was still waiting for him in Song, or the incident was already over and Confucius had managed to escape unharmed. Mencius thought that the first was the likely scenario. He says that Huan Tui “tried to waylay Confucius, and as a result, he had to travel in disguise.” Sima Qian imagined a scene based on the second theory, and, to make it stick, he incorporated Confucius’ words into his story. He writes, “Confucius came to Song from Cao, and while he was practicing the rites with his disciples under a tree, the military commander of Song, Huan Tui, with the intent to see Confucius killed, uprooted the tree. Confucius stepped aside. His disciples said to him, ‘Let’s get out of here!’ Confucius replied, ‘Heaven has given me this power—this virtue. What can Huan Tui do to me!’”

  Although it is difficult to know exactly what were the circumstances of Confucius’ statement, the first version (with Mencius’ interpretation) seems more plausible only because Sima Qian’s elaboration of the second is somewhat outlandish. And in the end, neither Mencius nor Sima Qian nor any of the early writers explains why Huan Tui wanted Confucius dead.

  7.24 The Master said, “My young friends, do you think I am hiding something? I am not hiding anything from you. There is nothing I do that I do not share with you. That’s Qiu for you.”

  Qiu is Confucius’ personal name. By calling himself Qiu, Confucius puts himself on a level with his disciples, and he says, “There is nothing I do that I do not share with you.” But what has driven him to make such a declaration? It is possible that his disciples have been complaining about his teaching—that they feel they need more verbal instruction than what their teacher has offered, and so they suspect that he is holding something back. In response, Confucius suggests that they look for instruction elsewhere, in what he does and how he carries himself, and since everything he does he does in plain sight, he says, he is not hiding anything from them.

  7.25 The Master taught these four things: culture, conduct, doing one’s best, and trustworthiness.

  Liu Baonan gives a succinct explanation of the four categories named here. He writes, “‘Culture’ (wen) includes the Odes, the Book of Documents, the ritual texts, and music, and the teaching of culture means that the instructor [takes these sources and] shows the students how to broaden their learning and how to ask questions, to think for themselves, and to make clear analyses. ‘Conduct’ (xing) refers to correct deportment. ‘Doing one’s best’ (zhong) means trying to get it right—trying to find the point of balance—as one gives full realization to one’s heart and mind. And ‘trustworthiness’ (xin) stands for constancy—that the self has embodied it as part of its character.”

  7.26 The Master said, “Since I have no hope of meeting a sage, it would be enough if I could meet a gentleman.”

  The Master said, “Since I have no hope of meeting a truly good man, it would be enough to meet a person of constancy. As for those who claim to have something when they have nothing, to be full when they are empty, to be comfortable when they are tight, it is hard to expect them to be constant.”
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  Some scholars treat Confucius’ statement as a critique of the rulers and counselors of his time. Others feel that it is more important to understand how Confucius distinguished, say, the sage (shengren) from the gentleman (junzi) or the truly good man (shanren), and why he thought that it would be hard for those who were dishonest or deluded about themselves to remain constant. Liu Baonan uses the conversation Zizhang has with Confucius in 11.20 to explain the difference between a truly good man and a sage: “A truly good man does not need to tread in the footsteps of the examples from the past [in order to become good], but by not doing this, he cannot enter the inner chamber.” “To enter the chamber,” Liu explains, means “to enter the sage’s chamber”—to reach the inner recesses of knowledge. And as for the difference between a sage and a gentleman, a Han commentary on the Odes says this about the gentleman: “His conduct and speech are, on the whole, appropriate, but he has not yet found inner peace and joy. His knowledge and ideas are, on the whole, on the mark, but they still lack rigor and precision. . . . And so he is not yet up to the level of a sage.” Sages, gentlemen, and truly good men all have constancy as the basis of their character. And Liu Baonan suggests that it is helpful to think of a man of constancy as someone who never has enough of learning: even when he has gained something substantial, he feels empty because he knows that there is more to absorb. Which is the opposite of those who consider a small accomplishment as total fulfillment and so will stop making any more effort. This the reason why “it is hard to expect them to be constant.”

  7.27 The Master would fish with a line and a hook but not with a cable with multiple lines and hooks attached to it. He would shoot at birds with a stringed arrow but not if they were roosting.

  A cable with multiple lines and hooks was called a gang. Several early texts give precise descriptions of such an instrument. A stringed arrow was an arrow attached to a silk cord. A bird shot with such an instrument would not be able to fly away and die elsewhere. In both fishing and hunting, the text says, Confucius liked to practice fair play. This was a sentiment shared by other early thinkers, which means that even in the fifth, fourth, and third centuries BC, some Chinese felt that it was wrong to rob nature of its resources by unprincipled means, and they believed that in the end both nature and humans would suffer if people did so.

  7.28 The Master said, “I suppose there are those who try to innovate without having acquired knowledge first. I am not one of those. I use my ears well and widely, and I choose what is good and follow it. I use my eyes well and widely and I retain what I observe. This is the next-best kind of knowledge.”

  The best kind of knowledge is the knowledge one is born with, which, according to what Confucius says in 7.20, was not the kind that he possessed. However, from his remark here and also those in 7.1 and 7.20, it seems that he was not sorry that his knowledge was not inborn, because this gave him a chance to listen well and observe well and to pursue knowledge the hard way. The quest fulfilled his life.

  7.29 The people of Hu village [being boorish and obstinate] were difficult to talk to. A young man [from this village] came to see the Master [and the Master received him]. The disciples were puzzled. The Master said, “I accepted him when he was here, but that does not mean I will accept whatever he will be doing when he is not here. So why should there be a problem? In coming here, he made his heart pure, and so I accepted him [as he was,] a purified man. This does not mean, however, that I approved of what he had done in the past.”

  Although no one can say for sure why the people of Hu village were “difficult to talk to,” it seems reasonable to assume that they were “boorish and obstinate,” as Zheng Xuan and Liu Baonan suggest. And Confucius’ decision to speak to this young man from Hu reveals much about what he was like as a teacher: he accepted anyone who came to him with pureness of heart even though, he said, he could not vouch for the person’s past or future behavior.

  7.30 The Master said, “Is humaneness far away? As soon as I desire humaneness, it is here.”

  Humaneness is immediately accessible—as soon as I desire it, it is here; and a person can choose to live a moral life if he wants to, and he has the strength to do so. But he resists putting effort into it, or, worse, he finds the other life—a life stripped of its moral impulses—to be more alluring. This is the paradox Confucius gave a lot of thought to, much of which is found in Book Four.

  7.31 The minister of crime from the state of Chen asked, “Did Duke Zhao understand the rites?”

  Confucius replied, “He understood the rites.”

  After Confucius had left, the minister of crime bowed to Wuma Qi. He asked him to come forth and said, “I have heard that a gentleman does not behave like a partisan, but, I suppose, some gentlemen do. Duke Zhao took a wife from the state of Wu, which meant that she had the same surname as he. And for this reason, he called her Wu Mengzi [and not Wu Ji]. If Duke Zhao understood the rites, who doesn’t?”

  Wuma Qi reported this to the Master. The Master said, “I have been fortunate. If I make a mistake, others will be sure to let me know.”

  When he took a woman with same surname as his, Duke Zhao violated a serious rule in the Zhou ritual institution, which specifically referred to such a practice as incestuous and improper. This ruler must have known that he had done so, because he tried to hide his intention to marry Wu Ji from the Zhou king and after the marriage he referred to his wife as Wu Mengzi and not Wu Ji. But the conversation was about Confucius’ behavior. Did he behave like a partisan, and, therefore, not a gentleman, as the minister of crime from Chen implied in his comment, because Confucius knowingly glossed over the ritual transgressions of his ruler? There are different ways of interpreting Confucius’ response. His defenders explain that by saying that he was fortunate to have others tell him about his mistakes, Confucius was mocking the minister of crime of Chen for being too slow to realize that it would have been an even more serious ritual violation for him to criticize a former ruler from his state in front of a political counselor from another state. I find this argument rather forced and prefer to understand what Confucius said as a statement about himself. Besides, it is more gentlemanly to admit your mistakes and to feel genuinely grateful when others point them out to you.

  7.32 When the Master was singing with others and liked a particular song, he would invariably ask that the song be repeated before he would join in.

  Confucius loved singing, and he enjoyed singing with others. And whenever he heard an unfamiliar song that he liked, he asked for it to be repeated so that he could catch some of the nuances before he joined in.

  7.33 The Master said, “I am able to work as hard as anyone. But as for being a gentleman in practice and conduct, I have not gotten there yet.”

  An alternative translation is: “Perhaps I can say that my knowledge of the cultural tradition can match anyone’s. But as for being a gentleman in practice and conduct, I have not gotten there yet.” Both readings are possible, depending on whether one puts the first two characters, wen () and mo (), together as phonetic loans for wenmo (), meaning “making efforts,” or treats them separately, with wen meaning “cultural tradition” and mo as a rhetorical word. In the first reading, Confucius says he may have made a lot of effort but still does not possess the adroitness of a gentleman; in the second, he says his knowledge of the cultural tradition can measure up to anyone’s, but he has not yet been able to realize it fully in practice.

  7.34 The Master said, “I dare not call myself a sage or a humane man. What could be said of me is that I work toward it without ever feeling sated and I am never tired of teaching.”

  Gongxi Hua remarked, “It is precisely in this that we, your disciples, are unable to emulate you.”

  Here Confucius, returning to what he has said in 7.2, 7.19, and 7.33, makes a final argument about why he does not see himself as a sage or a humane man. Gongxi Hua, speaking for all the disciples, says that even if this is true, they, the disciples, still find it difficult to emulate the
ir teacher in his hunger for knowledge and self-improvement.

  7.35 The Master was gravely ill. Zilu asked if he could offer a prayer for him. The Master said, “Was there such a practice?”

  Zilu replied, “There was. The Prayers [lei] reads, “We pray to the spirits above and below for you.”

  The Master said, “In that case, I have been offering prayers for a long time now.”

  The character lei () in the text actually means “eulogy.” Most commentaries point out that this lei must have been written in error for another lei (), meaning “prayers”: prayers that enumerate the virtues and accomplishments of a living person to help him secure the blessings of the spirits—which was what Zilu was trying to do for Confucius. And “the spirits above and below” refers to the spirit of heaven and the spirit of earth. Scholars say that there are two ways of understanding Confucius’ question for Zilu. “Was there such a practice?” could mean either “Was there such a thing as praying to the spirits to ask for recovery?” or “Was there such a thing as asking someone else to pray for me?” And Confucius’ remark could be a response to both questions. On the one hand, he tells Zilu that he has been offering his prayers for a long time, so he does not need Zilu’s help; on the other hand, he says that his prayers are not about asking the spirits for protection at a time of crisis but about showing them respect by living a responsible life with the aim of “steering clear of making serious mistakes.”