48 



KEV. AETHUR ELWIN, ON CONFUCIANISM. 



of haste. We are told that he always had ginger on the table, 

 and when eating did not converse. When in bed, he did 

 not lie like a corpse, and he required his sleeping dress to be 

 half as long again as his body. But during his wanderings 

 he often suffered much. He tells us, " With coarse rice to eat, 

 with water to drink, and my bended arm for my pillow, I still 

 have joy in these things. Eiches and honours acquired by 

 unrighteousness are to me as a floating cloud." 



Confucius was now growing old, and being weary of wander- 

 ing from state to state, he had an earnest desire to return to 

 his native place once more. History tells us that he retired to 

 Loo in Shangtung, and spent his time in editing the Book of 

 History, studying the Book of Changes, and writing the Spring 

 and Autumn Annals. Having a strong presentiment at one 

 time that his end was drawing near, he is said to have burst 

 into tears, exclaiming, " The course of my doctrine is run, and 

 I am unknown." " How do you mean that you are unknown ? " 

 asked one of his disciples. " I do not complain of Providence," 

 he answered, " nor find fault with men that learning is 

 neglected, and success is worshipped. Heaven knows me . . . 

 never does a superior man pass away without leaving a name 

 behind him. But my principles make no rjrogress, and I, how 

 shall I be known in future ages ? " 



One morning in. the Spring of 478 B.C., he tottered about 

 the house sighing : — 



" The great mountain must crumble ; 

 The strong beam must break ; 

 The wise man withers away like a plant." 



" If the mountain crumble," said one of his disciples, " to 

 what shall I look up ? If the strong beam break, and the wise 

 man wither away, on whom shall I lean ? The master, I fear, 

 is going to be ill." The master answered, " My time is come 

 to die." He went into the house, took to his bed, and on the 

 seventh day he died. During his short illness, one of his 

 disciples asked leave to pray for him, quoting from a book of 

 prayers to the effect that prayer might be offered to the spirits 

 of heaven and earth, but Confucius would not permit it, saying, 

 " My prayers were offered long ago." 



And so, at the age of seventy-three, the great man passed 

 away ; and on the banks of the river Sze, to the north of the 

 city of Loo, his disciples buried him, and for three years they 

 mourned at his grave. One of the most faithful, who built a 

 hut near his grave, and lived in it for six years, mourning as 

 for a father, said, " I have all my life had the heaven above my 



