candid in his judgment, and avowed his hatred
of those "who, under the pretence of honesty,
uncovered the hidden faults of their neighbours."
When his stable was burnt down, he did not
inquire about his valuable horses, but whether
any of his servants had been injured. He
declared that man was not meant to be inactive,
and stationary like a calabash or a melon, but
locomotive and busy in the exercise of virtue.
He pointed out, to the admiration of his
followers, a man whose hands and feet were
hardened by labouring for his parents. "Avoid
extremes. Despise gay dress, and costly food,"
were maxims of which his character was a
constant exemplification. He was silent at his
meals, while he requested to be served with
order, and the food to be cut square. While
he taught that all reverence should be paid
to age, and all respect shown to authority,
he is described as "stiff and peremptory to
inferior functionaries,"who then no doubt were,
as too often they are now, disposed to display
the "insolence of office." He recommended
that we should bring into notice and activity,
the talents and virtues of others: not only to
relieve ourselves from responsibility, but that we
might give to excellence a field for its exercise.
From his youth he was distinguished for the
accuracy of his accounts; a merit, let us say,
almost universal in China, which is greatly
attributable to the Decimal system, of whose existence
in the days of Confucius evidence is not
wanting. So liberal was he, that his dependents
sometimes refused his gifts. He was fond of
music, and played to amuse himself in solitude;
but in public he joined in the songs of the people,
and took an active part in the choruses of
advanced musical students. He pointed out the
beauties of nature to the attention and admiration
of his disciples; and while he turned away from
the careless, he neglected his meals for the
instruction of the listening and the thoughtful. If
he had not arrived at the recognition and development
of the Benthamic principle that "the
greatest good of the greatest number" ought to
be the object of government, he was, when
consulted about state affairs, accustomed to inquire,
"How many are concerned?" Many little observances
characteristic of the age of the philosopher
are mentioned by ancient historians. He never
stood in a doorway, lest he should impede the
going out or coming in of visitors. He would
assist at no ceremony where proper order was
not preserved.

Of Confucius, a popular Chinese proverb
says, "You can more easily scale the heavens
with a ladder than reach the sublimities of the
great master."

Many hundred years before the birth of
Confucius, a work called the Book of Changes
had formed the groundwork of the national
philosophy. It represents two great principles,
the yin and the yang: in other words, the male,
and the female elements, as engaged from the
beginning of things in the work of creation.
The volume has diagrams, to which mysterious
influence is attributed, and which represent the
powers and the action of nature. These diagrams,
and their explanations, which have occupied the
attention of hundreds and hundreds of
commentators (indeed the treatises concerning them
in the imperial collection amount to fourteen
hundred and forty-five), are believed by the
Chinese to be only understood by the
profoundest of their sages. Confucius dedicated
many years to the study of these recondite
teachings, and his notes, which are always
attached as commentaries on the earliest
commentators, are held in high estimation; but they
certainly fail to explain what is in itself
inexplicable.

It is related that before the birth of Confucius,
his mother, aware that she was to be the parent
of a sage, took every means to give perfection to
the character of the unborn child. After his
birth she went to dwell in the neighbourhood of
sepulchres, that he might be taught sympathy
and pity. She afterwards located herself near
a butcher's-shop, that he might be taught the
useful arts of life. She then changed her
domicile so as to be next door to a school, that he
might witness the rewards of diligence. One day
the boy being tired with his lessons played the
truant, and returning home, his vexed mother
took a knife and cut from the loom an unfinished
piece of cloth she was weaving. He fell at her
feet, and asked the reason of her conduct. "This
web is like you, thread by thread make an inch,
inch by inch make a foot, feet by feet make
yards; but if the web be cut, the work is
arrested. And so it is with your study." The
lesson was never forgotten. The tale is briefly
told in the Trimetrical Classic, one of the
classical books of China.

The Lun-yu thus describes the sage:

  Kung-tze (Confucius) lived in his native
village; he was remarkable for sincerity and
truthfulness, but his modesty kept him habitually
so silent, that he seemed deprived of the
faculty of speech.

  But in the ancestral temple, and in the
presence of his sovereign, he spoke boldly and
distinctly. All that he said, bore the marks of
matured reflection. He never failed in preserving
a respectful self-possession.

At court he addressed subordinates with
firmness and dignity, and inferiors with a frank
courtesy.

In receiving his guests he showed them
attention by the absence of all negligence, and
the careful adjustment of his garments. He
never entered the palace gates without lowering
his head, as if the portal had not been high
enough for his passage; but he walked steadily
till he reached the throne, when he moved
slowly as if his feet were fettered; he kept
his robes on his hands, and held his breath, but
in departing his face was radiant with smiles.

When he received the imperial mandate, he
inclined his body, and raised the writing above
his head. (The ceremonial is still used, and has
been employed by foreign ambassadors when
presenting their credentials.)