THE SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS

A NEW TRANSLATION OF THE GREATER

PART OF THE CONFUCIAN ANALECTS

WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES

By

LIONEL GILES, M.A. (Oxon.)

ASSISTANT IN THE DEPARTMENT OF ORIENTAL BOOKS

AND MANUSCRIPTS OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

THE WISDOM OF THE EAST SERIES

Edited by

L. CRANMER-BYNG

Dr. S. A. KAPADIA.

NEW YORK

E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY

1910

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION
LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL DISCIPLES
GOVERNMENT AND PUBLIC AFFAIRS
INDIVIDUAL VIRTUE
CONFUCIUS' ESTIMATE OF OTHERS
CONFUCIUS ON HIMSELF
MISCELLANEOUS SAYINGS
PERSONALIA
CONFUCIUS AS SEEN BY OTHERS
SAYINGS OF THE DISCIPLES

EDITORIAL NOTE

The object of the Editors of this series is a very definite one. They desire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be the ambassadors of goodwill and understanding between East and West—the old world of Thought and the new of Action. In this endeavour, and in their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example in the land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great ideals and lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival of that true spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the nations of another creed and colour. Finally, in thanking press and public for the very cordial reception given to the "Wisdom of the East" Series, they wish to state that no pains have been spared to secure the best specialists for the treatment of the various subjects at hand.

L. CRANMER-BYNG.
S. A. KAPADIA.

NORTHBROOK SOCIETY,
185, PICCADILLY, W.

INTRODUCTION

Confucius is one of the few supremely great figures in the world's history. A man's greatness must always be measured, in the first place, by the consensus of opinion in his own country; the judgment of foreigners can only be allowed to have a secondary value. Especially is this true when the critics are not only foreigners, but belong to a totally different order of civilisation from the men whose greatness they would appraise. For even if they can keep their minds free from purely national bias of the unreasoning sort, they will naturally look for such attributes as are highly prized among themselves, and feel disappointed if these are not much in evidence. They will be apt to see certain defects too plainly, whereas they may easily overlook or fail to appreciate to the full those very qualities on which the title to greatness is mainly based. These errors and prejudices will, doubtless, tend to disappear as more intimate knowledge is gained and the essential unity of human nature shows itself beneath the accidents of custom and environment. But the process will always be slow. The name of Confucius may be deemed sufficiently familiar in the West to render unnecessary any revision of the popular verdict which has already been passed on him. But are his judges equally familiar with the teaching which his name represents? The name of Shakespeare was well enough known to Frenchmen in the time of Voltaire. Yet how many generations had to pass ere they began to recognise his true greatness? The parallel between dramatist and social reformer may seem strained, but it is not drawn at random. In both cases, wide differences of language and the inadequacy of translations to bridge the gap, lie at the root of the trouble.

No great man has suffered more than Confucius from the stupidity, the misstatements and the misrepresentations, from the lack of sympathy and generosity, and, in some points, from the pure ignorance of his critics. Early travellers arriving from the West, amongst a people utterly alien to themselves in almost every detail—language, dress, habits, modes of thought, ethical ideals and general view of life—would have done well to walk very warily and, in the Confucian phrase, "to reserve their judgment" on what they saw and heard around them. But patience and discrimination were the very last virtues which these inquisitive newcomers had a mind to practise; and, unluckily, the extraordinary fame of the national sage marked him out as one of the earliest victims to their thirst for the marvellous. On the strength of Chinese evidence, readily forthcoming and eagerly swallowed, the most exaggerated accounts of this new luminary were poured into the ears of Europe, and it may well be imagined that these enthusiastic reports suffered no diminution in the telling. Confucius was the prince of philosophers, the wisest and most consummate of sages, the loftiest moralist, the most subtle and penetrating intellect that the world had ever seen. He was a statesman, a bard, an historian and an antiquary rolled into one. His sagacity put the most illustrious of ancient and modern philosophers to shame. He was the greatest and noblest representative of the greatest, happiest, and most highly civilised people on the face of the earth. Such extravagant eulogy could only pave the way for disillusionment. When, after the lapse of a hundred years or so, foreigners had painfully acquired sufficient knowledge of the language to enable them to begin translating, after a fashion, parts of the Classics said to have been composed by this glorious sage, or at least containing the choicest pearls of his wisdom still extant, it is not altogether surprising that the results did not come up to the general expectation. Reactionist in, and it soon became the fashion to decry the once much-lauded philosopher. His