Chinese centuries the likeness of an Adept at the head of a state.  So it should be proved to them that Such a One—­they call him Such a One generally, I believe, to avoid the light repetition of a name grown sacred—­is no impractical idealist merely, but a Master of Splendid Successes here in this world:  that the Way of Heaven is the way that succeeds on earth—­if only it be honestly tried.

Ting was by no means master in his own marquisate.  As in England under Stephen, bold bad robber barons had fortified their castles everywhere, and from these strongholds defied the government.  The mightiest magnate of all was the Chief of Clan Chi, who ordered things over his royal master’s head, and was very much a power for the new Minister of Crime to reckon with.  A clash came before long.  Ex-marquis Chao—­he that had been driven into exile—­died in Ts’i; and his body was sent home for burial with his ancestors.  Chi, who had been chief among those responsible for the dead man’s exile, by way of insulting the corpse, gave orders that it should be buried outside the royal cemetery; and his orders were carried out.  Confucius heard of it, and was indignant.  To have had the corpse exhumed and reburied would have been a new indignity, I suppose; therefore he gave orders that the cemetery should be enlarged so as to include the grave; —­and went down and saw it done.—­“I have done this on your behalf,” he informed Chi, “to hide the shame of your disloyalty.  To insult the memory of a dead prince is against all decency.”  The great man gnashed his teeth; but the Minister of Crime’s action stood.

He turned his attention to the robber-barons, and reduced them.  I do not know how; he was entirely against war; but it is certain that in a very short time those castles were leveled with the ground, and the writ of the Marquis ran through Lu.  He hated capital punishment; but signed the death warrant for the worst of the offenders;—­and that despite the protest of some of his disciples, who would have had him consistent above all things.  But his back was up, and the man was executed.  One makes no excuse for it; except perhaps, to say that such an action, isolated, and ordained by Such a One, needs no excuse.  He was in the habit of fulfilling his duty; and duty may at times present itself in strange shapes.  It was a startling thing to do; and Lu straight-way, as they say, sat right up and began to take concentrated notice of a situation the like of which had not been seen for centuries.

He had the final decision in all legal cases.  A father brought a charge against his son; relying on the bias of the Minister whose life had been so largely given to preaching filial piety.  “If you had brought up your son properly,” said Confucius, “this would not have happened”; and astounded plaintiff, defendant, and the world at large by putting both in prison for three months.  In a year or so he had done for Lu what he had done for Chung-tu during his magistracy.