Bearing and speech — how a gentleman carries himself風操

I have looked into the Li jing, and the teaching of the sages reaches even to the dustpan and the broom, the spoon and the chopsticks, coughing and spitting, the words of assent, the holding of the candle and the pouring of the washing water. All of it has its order and its form, and one may call it complete. Only it is already broken and missing and is no longer a whole book. What it does not carry, and what the affairs of the age have changed, gentlemen of thorough learning have set in order for themselves and handed on to one another, and so the world calls it the bearing of the gentry. Yet households differ a good deal, and each calls the other long or short according to what it has seen, though the main road can be known of itself. Long ago in Jiangnan my eyes could see it and my ears could hear it. Mugwort grows straight in a hemp field, and there was no need to trouble brush and ink. You were born among war horses, with nothing to learn by sight or hearing, and so I set this down roughly, to pass on and show to sons and grandsons.

The Li ji says, "See one who resembles him and the eye starts; hear the name and the heart starts." When something touches a man so that heart and eye grow sad, then in a quiet and ordinary place he may rightly let that feeling out. But where it cannot be avoided he must bear it. An uncle or a brother may look much like the one who is gone. Shall a man break his bowels for a lifetime and cut himself off from them? It says also, "In composing a text one does not taboo. Inside the ancestral shrine one does not taboo. Before the ruler there is no private taboo." From this it is the clearer that hearing a name calls for some measure, and that one need not hope to stumble away in flight. Xie Ju of Liang had a great name, yet whenever he heard his taboo name he would wail, and the world mocked him. There was also Zang Fengshi, the son of Zang Yan, deep in learning and careful in conduct, who did not let the bearing of his house fall. When Emperor Xiaoyuan governed Jiangzhou he sent him to Jianchang to oversee affairs. The people of the commanderies and counties vied in sending up letters, which crowded in morning and evening until they lay heaped on his desk. Whenever a letter had the words bitter cold (嚴寒) in it, he would face it and shed tears and not look it over or deal with it, so that much public business was left undone. People resented it and were shocked, and in the end he came back with nothing settled. Both of these went too far.

Lately in Yangdu there was a scholar whose taboo name was Shen (審), and he was on close and warm terms with a man of the Shen (沈) family. When Shen sent him a letter he wrote his own personal name and not his surname. This is not what human feeling asks.

In every avoidance of a taboo name one must find a graph of the same meaning and put it in the other's place. Duke Huan's name was Bai (白), the white, and so the game board has the name five whites (五皓). King Li's name was Chang (長), the long, and so the zither has the name long and short (修短). But no one has heard cloth and silk (布帛) called bu hao (布皓), or the kidney and the bowel (腎腸) called shen xiu (腎修). Emperor Wu of Liang had the childhood name Alian (阿練), and his sons and grandsons all called lian (練), the raw silk, juan (絹). So they called the smelting and tempering of metal xiao juan (銷絹), which I fear runs against the sense. A man who tabooed yun (云) called fen yun (紛紜) fen yan (紛煙). A man who tabooed tong (桐) called the paulownia tree the white iron tree (白鐵樹). That is no better than a joke.

The Duke of Zhou named his son Qin (禽), the bird, and Confucius named his son Li (鯉), the carp. These stopped with the man himself, and so there was nothing to forbid. But the Marquis of Wey (衛), the Prince of Wei (魏) and the Crown Prince of Chu were all named Jishi (蟣蝨), nit and louse, and Changqing was named Quanzi (犬子), dog's son, and Wang Xiu was named Gouzi (狗子), puppy. These reach upward and touch the parents, and reason does not allow them. What the ancients did the present age laughs at. In the northern lands many name a child donkey colt or piglet. To make him call himself so, or to let his brothers name him so, how can a man bear it? The Former Han had Yin Wenggui, the Later Han had Zheng Wenggui, the house of Liang had Kong Wenggui and also Gu Wengchong, and the Jin age had Xu Sibi (許思妣) and Meng Shaogu (孟少孤). Such names ought rightly to be avoided.

The men of today avoid taboo names more urgently than the ancients. Whoever names a son should leave ground for the grandson. Among my kin and acquaintance there are men who taboo Xiang (襄), You (友), Tong (同), Qing (清), He (和) and Yu (禹). Where the acquaintance is thin and the moment hurried, a hundred breaches are made at a single sitting, and those who hear it suffer and are at a loss.

Long ago Sima Changqing admired Lin Xiangru and so named himself Xiangru, and Gu Yuantan admired Cai Yong and so named himself Yong. But in the Later Han the courtesy name of Zhu Chang was Sunqing (孫卿) and the courtesy name of Xu Xian was Yan Hui (顔回), and in the age of Liang there were Yu Yanying (庾晏嬰) and Zu Sundeng (祖孫登). To carry an ancient's surname as well into one's name and courtesy name is a low thing.

Long ago Liu Wenrao could not bring himself to scold a servant as livestock. The foolish men of this age have come to make sport of it with one another, and some point at a man's name and call him piglet or calf. A man of sense looking on from the side wants to stop his ears. How much more the one it falls upon?

Lately in the Board of Deliberation, while the stipends of the hundred officers were being weighed together, one man of high rank, a noted minister of the age, thought what was proposed too generous. One or two men of the gentry and of letters in the court of Qi said to this noble, "Today the realm is made one, and this must serve as the model for a hundred generations. How can you still hold to the old mind of Guanzhong? Your Excellency must be Tao Zhugong's eldest son." They laughed together and took no offense.

Long ago the descendants of Hou Ba called their grandfather the house lord (家公). The Prince of Chensi called his father the house father (家父) and his mother the house mother (家母). Pan Ni called his grandfather the house grandfather (家祖). What the ancients did the men of today laugh at. In the customs of south and north today no one puts house (家) before grandfather or parents, and only coarse men of the fields and lanes speak so. In speaking with another of one's own father's elder brother, one names him by his order of birth and does not put house before it, because he stands above one's father and one dares not say house. In speaking of an aunt, an elder sister, a younger sister or a daughter, if she is already married one names her by her husband's surname, and if she is still at home one names her by her order of birth. The saying is that she has completed the rites into another clan and so cannot be called house. That sons and grandsons cannot be called house is because it makes light of them. In the collected letters of Cai Yong he calls his aunt and his elder sister the house aunt (家姑) and the house elder sister (家姊), and in the collected letters of Ban Gu there is also the house grandson (家孫). Today neither is used.

In speaking with another, when one names his grandparents, his father's elder brother and that man's wife, his parents, or his elder aunt, one adds the word revered (尊) to all of them. From his father's younger brother and that man's wife downward one adds the word worthy (賢). This is the difference of high and low. In the letters of Wang Xizhi he names another man's mother as he names his own and does not add the word revered, and today this is held to be wrong.

Men of the south do not go to a house in mourning at the winter solstice or at the new year. If they cannot send a letter, they put on their belt once the festival is past and go to give comfort. Men of the north hold the rite of condolence heavy on those very days. The rites have no clear text for it, and so I do not take it up. Men of the south do not go out to meet an arriving guest. On meeting they join their hands and do not bow, and in seeing a guest off they only step down from their mat. Men of the north both meet and see off as far as the gate, and on meeting they bow. Both are ways of the ancients, and I think well of the meeting and the bow.

Long ago kings and marquises called themselves the orphaned one (孤), the widowed one (寡) and the unworthy one (不穀). From that time downward, even Confucius, sagely teacher as he was, named himself by his own name in speaking with his disciples. Later there were the words servant (臣) and your servant (僕), but few used them. In Jiangnan the high and the low each have their forms of address, set out in the several books of letter forms (書儀). In the north many call themselves by their own name, which is what is left of the old custom, and I think well of that naming.

When talk reaches those who have gone before, feeling and longing should rightly rise, and what was easy for the ancients is hard for the men of today. When men of Jiangnan cannot help speaking of their lineage they always do it in writing, and few discuss it face to face. Men of the north fall into such talk at any time and question one another about it. Such a thing must not be pressed upon another, and when another presses it upon oneself it should be turned aside. If a man's name and station are not high and one of rank and merit presses him, let him endure it and find a way to answer quickly and be done, and not let it grow long and heavy and bring shame on his grandfather and father. If they are gone and the words must reach them, let him compose his face and sit gravely and say the great gate (大門中). For a father's elder or younger brother he says the gate of the cousins, and for a brother he says the gate of so and so, the son of the one who is gone. In each case he makes the measure of his countenance from the high or low, the heavy or light of the matter, and all of it differs from the ordinary. In speaking with the ruler, though he changes his countenance, he still says my late grandfather (亡祖), my late elder uncle (亡伯), my late younger uncle (亡叔). I have seen even noted men call a dead brother the gate of his elder brother's son or of his younger brother's son, and this too does not sit well. The custom of the northern lands does not follow it at all. Yang Kan of Taishan went south in the early years of Liang. When I came to Ye lately, his elder brother's son Yang Su asked me in detail after Yang Kan, and I answered, "When your cousin's gate (從門中) was in Liang, it was thus and thus." Yang Su said, "He was my own seventh late uncle, not a cousin." Zu Xiaozheng was sitting there and knew the custom of Jiangnan already, and said to him, "Worthy gate of the younger cousin (賢從弟門中), how is it that you do not understand?"

The ancients all said father's elder brother (伯父) and father's younger brother (叔父), while the present age commonly says only bo (伯) and shu (叔). When a cousin has already lost his father, to call his mother one's elder or younger aunt before his face cannot be avoided. When a brother's son has lost his father, to call him the son of one's elder brother or of one's younger brother before his face, in speaking with others, is hard to bear. Men of the northern lands commonly call him zhi (姪). Looking into the Erya, the Sangfu of the Yili and the Zuo zhuan, zhi is a word used of men and women alike, but always as a word said toward an aunt. From the Jin age men began to say uncle and zhi, and calling him zhi today is the better in reason.

Parting is easy and meeting is hard, and the ancients held this heavy. In Jiangnan, when they see a man off, they shed tears as they speak of the parting. A prince and marquis, a younger brother of Emperor Wu of Liang, was going out to an eastern commandery and took his leave. The emperor said, "I am old now, and parting from you grieves me deeply," and several lines of tears came down. The marquis then went out dry-eyed and red in the face. For this he was reproached, and he drifted about the riverbanks in his boat for a hundred days and more and in the end could not go. The custom of the north makes little of this. They speak of parting at the fork of the road and part laughing. Yet there are men whose nature holds few tears, and though their bowels are near breaking their eyes stay clear. Such men must not be reproached by force.

The names for kin must all be set apart clearly and never mixed. A man without training, once his father is gone, calls his mother's parents by the same words as his father's parents, so that people do not like to hear him. Even in asking after them to their faces one should add outer (外) to set them apart. For a parent's elder and younger uncles one should add their order of birth to set them apart. For the wives of those uncles one should add their surname to set them apart. For a parent's several cousins of the uncle's line, and for a grandfather's brothers and their wives, one should add their office or their surname to set them apart. The gentlemen of Hebei all call the mother's parents house lord and house mother, and the country places of Jiangnan say it too. To put house in the place of outer is not something I know.

In the generations of the clan there are the cousin's line (從父), the grandfather's line (從祖) and the clan line (族祖). By the custom of Jiangnan, beyond these, men of high office are all called revered, and those of the same ancestral order are called brothers though a hundred generations lie between. Speaking of them to another, they say clansman (族人). The gentlemen of Hebei still say cousin elder uncle and cousin younger uncle after twenty or thirty generations. Emperor Wu of Liang once asked a man of the central lands, "You are a man of the north. How is it that you do not know there is a clan?" He answered, "Flesh and bone grow distant easily, and I cannot bring myself to say clan." It was a quick answer at the time, but it does not hold in the rites.

I once asked Zhou Hongrang, "What does one call the sisters of one's father and mother, within the clan and without?" Zhou said, "They too are called the elder (丈人)." From of old I have not seen the word elder used of a woman. What my own kin do is this. On the father's side she is the aunt of such and such a surname, and on the mother's side she is the mother's sister of such and such a surname. The wife of an elder within the clan or without is coarsely called the elder mother (丈母), while gentlemen say Mother Wang (王母) or Mother Xie (謝母). In the collected works of Lu Ji there is a letter to Mother Gu of Changsha, who was the wife of his father's cousin. This is not done today.

The gentlemen of the court of Qi all called Vice Director Zu by the name Zu gong (祖公), and did not mind at all that it ran into the word for an ancestor. There were even those who made sport of it to his face.

In old times the name set the body straight and the courtesy name showed the virtue. When a man died his name was tabooed, while his courtesy name could be taken as a grandson's clan name. The disciples of Confucius who set down his affairs all called him Zhongni. Empress Lü, while she was still of low estate, called Gaozu by his courtesy name Ji. Yuan Zhong of Han called his uncle by his courtesy name Si. Wang Dan, speaking with the son of Hou Ba, called Hou Ba by his courtesy name Junfang. Jiangnan does not taboo the courtesy name even now. The gentlemen of Hebei cannot tell them apart at all. They call the name a courtesy name, and the courtesy name they of course call a courtesy name. Director Wang Yuanjing and his brothers were all men of note. Their father's name was Yun (雲) and his courtesy name Luohan (羅漢), and they tabooed them both. The rest, then, is no wonder.

The Jianzhuan of the Li ji says, "The weeping of the deepest mourning goes out and does not come back. The weeping of the next degree goes out and comes back. The weeping of the great degree bends three times and trails away. For the small degree and the hempen degree a grieving face is enough. This is grief coming out as sound." The Xiao jing says, "In weeping one does not trail the voice." All of this speaks of weeping as having sounds that are light or heavy, plain or shaped. The rites call weeping that has words in it a calling out (號). If so, then weeping too has its words. The mourning cry of Jiangnan has at times words of sorrowful appeal. In Shandong, in heavy mourning, they cry out only "blue heaven," and below the year's degree and the great degree they cry out only "the pain is deep." That is a calling out and not a weeping.

In Jiangnan, when a man meets a heavy mourning, an acquaintance living in the same walled town who does not come to condole within three days is cut off. Even after the mourning is put away, if they meet he is avoided, out of resentment that he did not pity the grief. If a man had reason to stay away, or the road was far, a letter will do, and if there is no letter it is judged the same. The custom of the north is not so. In Jiangnan, when men condole, they take no one by the hand but the chief mourner unless they know him. If a man knows one in light mourning but not the chief mourner, he does not condole at the gathering, but writes out his name on another day and goes to the house.

The teaching of yin and yang says, "Chen (辰) is the tomb of water and also the tomb of earth, and so one must not weep." The Lun heng of Wang Chong says, "On a chen day one does not weep, for weeping brings mourning upon mourning." Untaught men today, when a death falls on a chen day, ask nothing of light or heavy, but keep the whole house still, dare not raise a sound, and turn away those who come to condole. The Daoist books say also, "To sing on the last day of the moon and to weep on the first brings guilt, and heaven takes away the years of one's life." In a house of mourning grief runs deeper on the first day and the fifteenth. Shall a man grudge his years and not weep then either? This too is past understanding.

The books of the side arts say that the dead have a returning spirit (歸殺). Sons and grandsons run off and hide, and none will stay in the house. They paint on tiles and write charms and make all sorts of spells (厭勝). On the day the bier goes out they light a fire before the gate and lay ashes outside the door, washing away the house ghost and cutting the binding cord (注連) with a charm. All such things are far from human feeling. These are offenders against learning and refinement, and impeachment should fall upon them.

When a man has lost his father, and the new year or the winter solstice comes, and with no father he bows to his mother, his grandparents, his uncles and their wives, his aunt, his elder brother and his elder sister, he weeps at every one of them. When he has no mother and bows to his father, his mother's parents, his mother's brother, his mother's sister, his elder brother and his elder sister, it is the same. This is human feeling.

Among the court officials of Jiangzuo, when a son or grandson first put off mourning dress and appeared before the two palaces, he was to shed tears, and the two palaces changed countenance for him. Now and then one came with his flesh full and glossy and no look of grief, and Emperor Wu of Liang thought little of such a man and often held him back and put him aside. When Pei Zheng put off mourning and came to greet Emperor Wu, he was thin and worn, and tears and mucus ran down in streams. The emperor followed him with his eyes and said, "Pei Zhili is not dead."

When both parents are gone, the study and the sleeping room where they lived are rooms a son and his wife cannot bear to enter. In the Northern Court, Li Gou of Dunqiu, after his mother of the Liu family died, kept the hall where she had lived locked for the rest of his life and could not bear to open it and go in. The lady was the granddaughter of Liu Zuan, Inspector of Guangzhou under Song, and so Li Gou was still steeped in the training of Jiangnan. His father Li Jiang was Inspector of Yangzhou and was killed while holding Shouchun. Li Gou once sat drinking and talking with Wang Songnian, Zu Xiaozheng and a few others. Zu Xiaozheng was good at painting, and whenever paper and brush came to hand he drew people. Presently, while cutting a deer's tail, he cut through the painted figure in play and showed it to Li Gou, meaning nothing by it. Li Gou grew sad, his face changed, and he rose at once, took his horse and went. The whole company was startled and could not fathom his heart. Zu soon understood and only then grew deeply uneasy, and few at that time could feel such a thing. Lu Xiang of Wu commandery, whose father Lu Xian was put to death by sentence, wore hemp and ate vegetable food all his life, and could not bear to eat even ginger or greens that had been cut with a knife, so that at home they plucked things by hand for the kitchen. Yao Zidu of Jiangning, whose mother burned to death, could not bear to eat roasted food all his life. Xiong Kang of Yuzhang, whose father was killed by a servant while drunk, never tasted wine again. Yet the rites follow human feeling, and kindness is cut off by right measure. If a parent choked to death, one still cannot give up eating.

The Li jing says that the books a father left and the cup a mother used carry the trace of their hands and mouths, so that one cannot bear to read them or use them. That was said of what they always studied and recited, collated and copied out, and of what they used more than other things, where a trace remains that can be longed for. As for ordinary books and the goods of daily life, how can all of them be set aside? Though they are not read or used, they must not be let go and scattered. They should only be sealed and kept, and left to later ages.

The fourth aunt by marriage of Siru and his brothers was a daughter of Zhang Jian of Wu commandery. She had a fifth younger sister who lost her mother at three. The screen above the spirit couch (靈牀) was a thing the mother had used all her life, and when the roof leaked and it grew damp they brought it out to dry in the sun. The girl saw it once and fell upon the couch weeping. The household thought it strange that she did not get up and went to take her in their arms. The mat was soaked through, her spirit was wounded, and she could not eat or drink. They asked a physician, who felt her pulse and said, "The bowels are broken." From then she vomited blood, and within a few days she died. Kin within and without pitied her, and none but grieved and sighed.

The Li ji says, "On the day of a parent's death one does not take pleasure." It is only that longing has no bound and grief leaves the heart nowhere to rest, and so one does not receive guests from outside and does not handle the many affairs. If a man can truly dwell in his sorrow, why should it be a matter of hiding deep within? Some men of the world sit upright in an inner room and do not mind laughing and talking. They set out rich and sweet things and serve the fast-day meal (齋食) generously, and yet, though some sudden and urgent matter comes, close kin and dearest friends have no way at all to see them. This is not knowing what the rites mean.

In the age of Wei the mother of Wang Xiu died on the day of the earth god (社日). When that day came round the next year, Wang Xiu grieved so deeply in his longing that the neighbors heard of it and gave up the sacrifice for his sake. Today, if the day a parent died happens to fall on one of the festivals, the dog days, the winter sacrifice, the equinoxes or the solstices, or after the last day of a short month, then besides the day of death itself one should still feel longing when such a day passes. It is to be kept apart from other days, and one does not join in feasting, or listen to music, or go out roaming.

Liu Tao, Liu Huan and Liu Sui were brothers, and all of them men of standing. Their father's name was Zhao (昭), and all their lives they would not write the graph zhao (照), but followed the Erya and wrote the fire radical (火) beside zhao (召). Yet when a text strikes the taboo name itself it can rightly be avoided, while graphs that merely share the sound cannot all be treated so. Beneath the graph Liu (劉) there lies the sound zhao. If the son of Lü Shang would not write shang (上), and the son of Zhao Yi would not write yi (一), then the brush would catch as soon as it was lifted, and every piece of writing would strike something.

Once a man called Jia set out a feast and asked a man called Yi to be his guest. In the morning he saw Yi's son in the public court and asked him, "When will your revered father (尊侯) call at the house?" Yi's son answered that his father had already gone. It was a laughingstock at the time. In such cases one must take care in every like matter and not fall into loose speech.

By the custom of Jiangnan, when a child has lived a full year they make new clothes for it, wash and dress it, and set before it a bow and arrows, paper and brush for a boy, or a knife, a measure, a needle and thread for a girl, along with things to eat, treasures, clothes and playthings. They watch which it reaches for as its mind moves, and read from it greed or restraint, dullness or wit. This is called testing the child (試兒). Kin gather and a feast is held. From that day on, while both parents live, there is a setting out of wine and food whenever the day comes round. Untaught men, though their parents are already gone, still lay out the feast on that day and drink deep to music, not knowing there is anything to grieve. Emperor Xiaoyuan of Liang, when he was young, always held a fast and a lecture on the sixth day of the eighth moon, the day of his birth. After the Lady Ruan Xiurong died, this too came to an end.

When a man is troubled or in pain he calls on heaven and earth and on his father and mother, and it has been so from of old. The present age taboos and avoids, and presses it hard at every turn. Yet the gentlemen and the common folk of Jiangdong, when they are in pain, cry ni (禰). Ni is the shrine name of a father. While a father lives his shrine name cannot be spoken, and once he is gone how can it be called out lightly? The Cangjie pian has the graph you (侑), and the gloss says, "It is a cry made in pain, sounded as the initial of yu (羽) with the final of zui (罪)." Men of the north cry this today when they are in pain. The Sheng lei gives the sound as the initial of yu (於) with the final of lei (耒), and men of the south sometimes cry this today when they are in pain. These two sounds follow the custom of the place, and both may be used.

In the age of Liang, when a man was bound and impeached, his sons and grandsons, his younger brothers and his nephews all went to the palace gate for three days and made apology bare-headed and barefoot, and any of them holding office asked to be relieved of it. The son wore straw sandals and coarse clothes, his hair loose and his face soiled, and wandered the roads waiting for the officers in charge, knocking his head until blood ran and pleading the wrong done. If the man was sent to hard labor (徒隸), the sons all raised a straw hut before the gate of the office and dared not rest at home. Often ten days passed, and only when the officers drove them off did they withdraw. When the censorial offices (憲司) of Jiangnan impeached a man, even in a light matter, if he was shamed in the name of teaching and right, or if he was lightly bound and died in the prison house, they became enemies, and their sons and grandsons did not visit one another for three generations. When Dao Qia became Palace Aide to the Censor-in-Chief and first meant to impeach Liu Xiaochuo, his elder brother Dao Gai, who had long been close to Liu, pleaded hard with him and could not move him. So he went to Liu, wept, said farewell and left.

Arms are ill-omened and battle is perilous, and this is no path of safety. In old times the Son of Heaven put on mourning dress to go before the army, and the general broke through the gate of ill omen (兇門) as he went out. If a father, a grandfather or an uncle is with the army, a man lowers himself in how he lives, and should not hold music or feasts, or weddings, cappings and other happy occasions. If he is inside a besieged city he wears a worn face and puts away ornaments and playthings, keeping always the look of one who stands at deep water or treads on thin ice. When a parent is gravely ill, then though the physician be low in station and young in years, one weeps and bows to him to ask his pity. When Emperor Xiaoyuan of Liang was in Jiangzhou he once fell ill, and the heir Fangdeng bowed in person to Li You, Adjutant of the Central Troops.

For men of the four seas to bind themselves as brothers, how can that be easy? Only with one whose purpose is level with one's own and whose sense of right is a match, one who will end as he began, can the matter be discussed. Once it is bound, a man bids his son bow low and call the other the elder (丈人), showing the respect owed to a father's friend, and he should himself serve that man's parents with added rite. Lately I see that men of the north hold this step very lightly. They meet on the road and settle at once which is the elder brother and which the younger. They look at the years and look at the face and do not sift right from wrong. There are even those who bind a man of a father's years as an elder brother, or take one of a son's years as a younger brother.

Long ago the Duke of Zhou gripped his wet hair three times at a single washing and spat out his food three times at a single meal, so as to receive the scholars of thatched houses, and in one day he saw more than seventy men. Duke Wen of Jin put off Toushu on the excuse of washing his hair, and drew on himself the reproach that his mind had turned about. Not to leave a guest standing at the gate is what the ancients prized. In a house that has lost its training the gatekeeper is without manners, and sometimes he turns a guest away and does not announce him, saying the master is asleep, or eating, or angry. In Jiangnan this is held a deep shame. Pei Zhili, Gentleman Attendant at the Yellow Gates, was said to play the gentleman well, and when he had such men about him he had them beaten in front of the guest. His retainers and servants, in dealing with others, turned and bowed and answered in word and countenance with nothing but gravity and respect, and were no different from their master.