Again, “In olden times people had three moral infirmities; which, it may be, are now unknown.  Ambitiousness in those olden days showed itself in momentary outburst; the ambitiousness of to-day runs riot.  Austerity in those days had its sharp angles; in these it is irritable and perverse.  Feebleness of intellect then was at least straightforward; in our day it is never aught but deceitful.”

Again, “Rarely do we find mutual good feeling where there is fine speech and studied mien.”

Again, “To me it is abhorrent that purple color should be made to detract from that of vermilion.  Also that the Odes of Ch’ing should be allowed to introduce discord in connection with the music of the Festal Songs and Hymns.  Also that sharp-whetted tongues should be permitted to subvert governments.”

Once said he, “Would that I could dispense with speech!”

“Sir,” said Tsz-kung, “if you were never to speak, what should your pupils have to hand down from you?”

“Does Heaven ever speak?” said the Master.  “The four seasons come and go, and all creatures live and grow.  Does Heaven indeed speak?”

Once Ju Pi desired an interview with Confucius, from which the latter excused himself on the score of ill-health; but while the attendant was passing out through the doorway with the message he took his lute and sang, in such a way as to let him hear him.

Tsai Wo questioned him respecting the three years’ mourning, saying that one full twelve-month was a long time—­that, if gentlemen were for three years to cease from observing rules of propriety, propriety must certainly suffer, and that if for three years they neglected music, music must certainly die out—­and that seeing nature has taught us that when the old year’s grain is finished the new has sprung up for us—­seeing also that all the changes[32] in procuring fire by friction have been gone through in the four seasons—­surely a twelve-month might suffice.

The Master asked him, “Would it be a satisfaction to you—­that returning to better food, that putting on of fine clothes?”

“It would,” said he.

“Then if you can be satisfied in so doing, do so.  But to a gentleman, who is in mourning for a parent, the choicest food will not be palatable, nor will the listening to music be pleasant, nor will comforts of home make him happy in mind.  Hence he does not do as you suggest.  But if you are now happy in your mind, then do so.”

Tsai Wo went out.  And the Master went on to say, “It is want of human feeling in this man.  After a child has lived three years it then breaks away from the tender nursing of its parents.  And this three years’ mourning is the customary mourning prevalent all over the empire.  Can this man have enjoyed the three years of loving care from his parents?”

“Ah, it is difficult,” said he, “to know what to make of those who are all day long cramming themselves with food and are without anything to apply their minds to!  Are there no dice and chess players?  Better, perhaps, join in that pursuit than do nothing at all!”