In the Village鄉黨第十

At court, when he spoke with the lower officers, he was firm and direct. When he spoke with the higher officers, he was mild and clear. When the ruler was present, he was reverent, as though at a loss, yet his bearing was just as it should be.

When the ruler called him to receive guests, his face changed and his steps grew careful. He bowed to those standing with him, turning his hands to left and right, and the front and back of his robe hung even. When he hurried forward, it was like a bird spreading its wings. When a guest had withdrawn, he always reported back and said, "The guest has gone and did not look back."

When he entered the palace gate, he bent low, as though the gate were too small for him. He did not stand in the middle of the gateway, and in walking he did not tread on the threshold. Passing the ruler's place, his face changed, his steps grew careful, and his words seemed to fail him. Holding up the hem of his robe as he climbed to the hall, he bent low and held his breath, as though he were not breathing. Coming out, after descending one step, he let his face relax and grew calm and pleasant. At the foot of the steps he hurried forward like a bird spreading its wings. Back in his own place, he was respectful and careful.

When he held the jade tablet (圭), he bent low, as though its weight were too much for him. He raised it as if bowing and lowered it as if handing it over, and his face changed and took on a look of awe, and his feet moved in short steps, as though following a line. At the presenting of gifts his face was gentle. At a private audience he was cheerful.

A noble man does not trim his collar with dark blue or dark red, and he does not make everyday clothes of scarlet or purple. In the heat he wore an unlined robe of fine or coarse hemp, and he always put a robe over it when he went out. With a black robe he wore lambskin, with a white robe fawn skin, with a yellow robe fox fur. His everyday fur robe was long, with a short right sleeve. (He always had a night robe, one and a half times his own length.) He sat on thick fox and badger fur. Once out of mourning, there was no ornament he did not wear. Unless it was a ceremonial skirt, he always cut the cloth down and stitched it. He did not pay a visit of condolence in a lambskin robe and a black cap. On the first day of the month he always put on court dress and went to court.

When he fasted, he always had a clean garment, made of hemp cloth. When he fasted, he always changed his food, and in his dwelling he always moved to another place.

He did not mind his rice being finely cleaned, nor his minced meat being finely cut. He did not eat rice that had gone sour and turned, nor fish that had gone soft, nor meat that had spoiled. He did not eat what was off in color. He did not eat what was off in smell. He did not eat what was badly cooked. He did not eat what was out of season. He did not eat meat that was not properly cut, and he did not eat it without the right sauce. Though there was much meat, he did not let it outweigh the rice. Wine alone he took without a set measure, but never to the point of disorder. He did not take wine bought in the shops or dried meat from the market. He did not push the ginger aside, but he did not eat much of it. Meat from the state sacrifice he did not keep overnight. Meat from a family sacrifice he did not keep beyond three days, and after three days he did not eat it. He did not talk while eating, and he did not talk in bed. Even with coarse rice, vegetable broth, and melon, he made an offering (祭), and he always did it as though he were fasting.

If the mat was not straight, he did not sit on it.

When he drank with the people of his village, he left only after the old men with their staffs had left. When the people of his village held the rite to drive out plague, he stood on the eastern steps in his court robes.

When he sent someone with greetings to another state, he bowed twice as he saw him off. When Ji Kangzi sent him medicine, he bowed and received it, and said, "I do not know this medicine, so I dare not taste it."

The stable burned down. The Master came back from court and said, "Was anyone hurt?" He did not ask about the horses.

When the ruler sent him cooked food, he always straightened his mat and tasted it first. When the ruler sent him raw meat, he always cooked it and offered it to his ancestors. When the ruler sent him a live animal, he always kept it alive. When he ate in attendance on the ruler, he ate the rice first while the ruler made the offering. When he was ill and the ruler came to see him, he laid his head to the east, with his court robes over him and his sash drawn across. When the ruler summoned him, he set out on foot without waiting for his carriage to be yoked.

When he entered the Great Temple, he asked about everything.

When a friend died and there was nowhere for the body to go, he said, "Let the coffin rest at my house." For a friend's gift, even a carriage and horses, he did not bow unless it was meat from a sacrifice.

He did not lie like a corpse in his sleep, and at home he did not put on a formal manner. When he saw a man in mourning dress, he always changed his face, however close a friend the man was. When he saw a man in a ceremonial cap or a blind man, he always showed him respect, however familiar the man was. To one in mourning clothes he bowed from his carriage, and he bowed to one carrying the maps and registers of the state. When a fine meal was set before him, he always changed his face and rose. At sudden thunder or a fierce wind he always changed his face.

When he got into a carriage, he always stood straight and took hold of the mounting cord. Inside the carriage he did not look about him, he did not speak quickly, and he did not point with his finger.

The birds rose at the look on a man's face, circled, and settled again. The Master said, "The hen pheasant on the mountain bridge — the right moment, the right moment!" Zilu took one and offered it up. The Master smelled it three times and rose.