An unworthy change of magistrates, however, in the kingdom of Lu induced C. to recommence his travels. He first proceeded to Chen, where he was not much appre ciated; and afterwards to Tze, where lie became one of the king's ministers, but was dismissed after a short time through the intrigues of cunning courtiers. On his return to Lu, lie was appointed "governor of the people." For a time, his inflexible virtue awed them into morality, and the delighted monarch conferred the highest dignities on the philosopher; but the arrival of a bevy of beautiful sirens from a neighboring state, which hated the increasing purity of Lu, suddenly overturned the edifice of morality which C. was constructing; and in despair, he again went abroad in search of less vacillating disciples. His later wanderings were very unpropitious; state after state refused to be improved. He was in some instances persecuted; once he was imprisoned, and nearly starved; and finally, seeing no hope of securing the favorable attention of the mass of his countrymen while alive, he returned in extrema poverty to his native state, and spent his last years in the composition of literary works by which posterity at least might be instructed. He died 479 n.c., in the 70th year of his age. Immediately after his death, and notwithstanding the general demoralization of his contemporaries, C. began to lie venerated, and succeeding ages adorned his name with golden epithets. His family, which has continued to the present day, through more than 70 generations, in the very place where their ancestor lived, is distinguished by various honors and privileges, being the only example of hereditary aristocracy in China, while in every city dOwn to those of the third order there is a temple to his honor. The 18th day of the second moon is kept sacred by the Chinese as the anni versary of his death.
The system of C. is, rightly considered, the most faithful expression of the Chinese mind, although it is neither the oldest of the extant Chinese religions, nor that which can claim tile greatest number of adherents. We have termed it a religion, but it ought rather to be regarded as a system of social and political life built upon a slight founda tion of philosophy. It contains no trace of a personal God. There are, indeed, a number of allusions to a certain heavenly agency or power, Slmang-te, whose outward emblem is Tien, or the visible firmament; but this Shang-te, in the opinion of the most enlightened Chinese scholars, is nothing more than a verbal personification of "the ever-present law and order and intelligence, which seem to breathe amid the wonderful activities of physical creation, in the measured circuit of the seasons, in the alternation of light and darkness, in the ebb and flow of tides, and in the harmonious and majestic revolutions of the heavenly bodies." Sometimes, indeed, C. uses language that might seem to imply more than this. In one of the sacred books, Shang-te is depicted as pos sessing a high measure of intelligence, and exercising some degree of moral govern ment; he punishes the evil, rewards the good, and is honored with sacrifice. Immedi ately after, however, we are informed that his retinue consists of six Tsong, the moun• tains, the rivers, and the spirits generally. Elsewhere, the people are enjoined " to con tribute with all their power to the worship of Shang-te, of celebrated mountains, of great rivers, and of the `shin' (spirits) of the four quarters." Hence we are forced to the conclusion, that C. no more believed Shang-te to be a personal being, than he believed the mountains to be such; and that in describing this power as possessed of intelligence, and as exercising a moral government, he simply spoke in a pictorial and symbolic way of the laws that govern all things. Perhaps, too, a dim consciousness of a mysterious inexplicable life pervading the phenomena and operating through the laws of nature— a feeling probably absent from no human soul—influenced C. to use words which his understanding would not have interpreted in a very literal manner. His highest con ception of God, therefore, only reminds one of the anima niundi of the classical philos ophy; and even this conception is not always present. More than once, his language indicates doubt as to the existence of this great abstraction, and he occasionally "rep rimanded his disciples for prying into matters unconnected with their duties and lying far beyond their depth." In fact, from metaphysics and theology he equally shrank.
The idea of a creation out of nothing by an infinite and eternal person, to the end that the glory of his perfections might be seen and felt through the magnificence of material symbols by those intelligences whom in his beneficent condescension he had deigned to create, is utterly unknown to Confucius. He looked on the universe rather as a stu pendous, self-sustaining mechanism. He thought that all things existed front eternity, and were subject to a flux and reflux, in obedience to initial laws impressed upon them, how and why, we know not, by some stern necessity. Thus, chaining to the earth, as it were, " those thoughts that wander through eternity;" crushing, in fact, every spirit ual tendency of human nature, by repudiating all speculation, and well-nigh all philo sophic investigation of every kind. C. strove to direct the attention of men to the duties of social and political life. t` I teach you nothing," he says, "hut what you might learn yourselves—viz., the observance of the three fundamental laws of relation between sovereign and subject, father and child, husband and wife; and the five capital virtues—universal charity, impartial justice, conformity to ceremonies and establi^hed usages, rectitude of heart and mind, and pure sincerity." This, in fact, contain.; the whole doctrine of C.; and it was unquestionably well suited to the prosaic, practical, and conservative mind of the Chinese. It was by the strict and faithful performance of appointed duties, and by the cultivation of proper feelings and sentiments, that C. believed wisdom or knowledge could alone be obtained. Ile seems to have entertained no doubt that the great virtues of charity, justice, and sincerity might be developed without the help of any spiritual or religious faith, by a species of mechanical discipline. They were natural to the mind, he thought, just as their opposites were unnatural. Here, again, we find a striking example of that easily satisfied unphilosophic matehalim which characterized C., and has since leavened the Chinese nation so thoroughly. He virtually says: " Just as I am forced to accept the phenomena of the universe as facts, though I can give no explanation of their origin, so am I forced to accept the phenomena of the human mind as facts, though I can give no explanation of their origin." C. finds evil and good, wisdom and folly, in the hearts of men. He cannot help making this distinction; some things are bad, others good; such is the oracular utterance of his con science, which he terms " time light of intelligence." He does not, however, advance step further, and make this moral conviction the basis of a religion. His "good" has no connection with any God. It exists; we are forced to recognize it as such; that is all we can know. Cultivate it. Those great laws of nature about which we know nothing except that they are realities, are on its side. Do not foster what you know to be mean and unworthy, for " he who offends against heaven has no one to whom he can pray." "Imperial heaven will only assist virtue." From this stand-point, C. taught a simple and comprehensive rule of life, both private and public. First, let every man govern himself according to the sacred maxims; then his family according to the same; and finally let him render to the emperor, who is the father of his people, such filial obedience as he demands of his own children, and worship him with the same veneration as he does his own ancestors; for thus will domestic peace, social order, and the safety of the commonwealth be preserved. To further this end (and in accordance with his belief that by instruction in the sacred precepts everything desirable could be accomplished), C. inculcated the necessity of universal education, and, in conse quence, schools are diffused throughout the length and breadth of the empire, penetrat ing even to the remotest villages, where the maxims of the philosopher are taught, whose influence is thus perpetuated from generation to generation.