Xiang Dang

When Confucius was in his hometown, he appeared humble and mild, almost as if he were inarticulate. Yet in ancestral temples and court assemblies, he spoke with clarity and fluency, though always with measured caution.  

At court before the ruler arrived, he conversed warmly and cheerfully with lower-ranking officials, while engaging upper-ranking officials with uprightness and reverence. When the ruler appeared, he maintained a composed demeanor of respectful unease.  

Summoned by the ruler to receive guests, his expression turned solemn, his steps brisk. He bowed to those beside him, clasped his hands left and right, his robes swaying neatly as he moved. When advancing swiftly, he resembled a bird spreading its wings. After guests departed, he always reported to the ruler: "The guests have withdrawn completely."  

Entering the court gates, he moved with such caution as if there were no space to stand. He avoided the center of doorways and never stepped on thresholds. Passing the ruler’s seat, his face grew solemn, his pace quickened, and his voice softened as if breathless. Lifting his robe hem to ascend the hall, he held his breath like one barely breathing. Upon exiting, descending a step, his expression relaxed into serenity. Reaching the base of the stairs, he strode forward like a bird taking flight, then resumed his position with renewed reverence.  

When serving as an envoy to other states, holding the ceremonial jade tablet, he treated it with such reverence it seemed too heavy to bear. Raising it resembled a bow; lowering it mimed handing it over. His countenance remained solemn, steps precise as if following a line. During gift presentations, he radiated warmth, while private audiences with rulers brought visible ease.  

A true gentleman avoids fabrics tinged blue-red or black-red for trim, nor uses red or purple for casual robes. In summer, he wears unlined garments of fine or coarse hemp over other layers. Black robes pair with lamb fur, white with fawn, yellow with fox. Home-worn fur coats are long but with shortened right sleeves. Bedding requires a quilt half again the body’s length. Seats use thick fox or badger pelts. After mourning ends, all ornaments resume. Non-ceremonial robes must be tailored. Lamb fur and black caps never attend funerals. On the first of each month, court robes are worn for greetings.  

During purification rituals, linen bathing robes are required. Fasting alters diet and sleeping quarters, abstaining from marital relations.  

He insisted rice be finely milled, fish and meat thinly sliced. Spoiled grains, rotten meat, discolored or foul-smelling food were rejected. Improperly cooked dishes, untimely meals, irregularly butchered meat, or poorly seasoned fare he avoided. Though meat abounded at feasts, he ate no more than rice. Wine he drank freely but never to excess. Market-bought dried meat and wine he refused. Ginger accompanied every meal but in moderation.  

Sacrificial meat from state rituals was consumed that day; ordinary offerings kept no longer than three days.  

He never spoke while eating nor made noise when retiring.  

Even coarse rice and vegetable soup required a reverent offering portion, presented with fasting-like solemnity.  

Mats improperly laid were left unsat.  

Drinking with villagers, he departed only after elders left.  

At local exorcism rituals, he stood in court robes on the eastern steps.  

When entrusting greetings to friends abroad, he bowed twice to the messenger.  

Accepting medicine from Ji Kangzi, he declined to taste it: "I dare not try what I don’t understand."  

When stables burned, his first question was "Were people hurt?" not about the horses.  

Royal gifts of food were tasted after proper seating; raw meat cooked for ancestors; live animals raised. Dining with the ruler, he tasted dishes first during prayers.  

Ill in bed facing east when visited by the ruler, he kept court robes and sash in place.  

Answering royal summons, he set out on foot before chariots were ready.  

At the Grand Temple, he inquired about every procedure.  

For friendless corpses, he declared "I’ll handle the funeral."  

Gifts from friends—even chariots or horses—required no bows unless sacrificial meat.  

He slept curled, not stiff; relaxed formality at home.  

Meeting mourners in hempen sackcloth brought solemnity; encounters with capped officials or the blind prompted courtesy. Passing funeral processions in chariots, he leaned forward gripping the crossbar. The same respect extended to bearers of state documents.  

At lavish feasts, he rose gravely to thank hosts. Thunderstorms and gales prompted awed solemnity.  

Boarding chariots, he stood straight first, then grasped the mounting cord. Riding, he never looked back, spoke hastily, or gestured.  

Seeing pheasants take flight in a valley, he murmured "These ridge-dwelling hens understand timeliness!" As Zilu bowed, the birds flapped away.