Confucianism is China's oldest and most revered philosophy. In imperial times, Confucius's standing was so great that the few writers who questioned his teachings became notorious for that reason alone. But in his own day, Confucius was taken as a wise but iconoclastic and potentially dangerous teacher of young men, and for many generations after his death, Confucians still struggled with exponents of other philosophies for primacy in the intellectual world of the so-called Warring States period (453–221 BCE). In keeping with the orientation of the Ancient Philosophies series, this book will focus on Confucianism as it was conceived and moulded by the earliest masters – in an age when Confucianism was regarded as but one of many viable philosophies, and did not yet enjoy the cultural supremacy that would come in later centuries. That later story will be reviewed briskly in the final chapter, along with a consideration of the standing of Confucianism today.

An exacting yet workable definition of Confucianism is crucial because the boundaries have been drawn both too broadly and too narrowly in the past. In this book, I shall use the term “Confucianism” to refer to the philosophy of Confucius (551–479 BCE), his disciples, and the numerous later thinkers who regarded themselves as followers of his tradition.

The translations and the ‘Further Reading’ were drafted by Alex Long, the introduction by David Sedley. The subsequent revision of the whole, and the footnotes to the translation, were shared between the two.

We are most grateful for the advice, criticism and encouragement of Hilary Gaskin of Cambridge University Press, and Desmond Clarke, general editor of the series.

echecrates: Were you with Socrates yourself, Phaedo, on the day he drank the poison in prison, or did you hear about it from someone else?

phaedo: I was there myself, Echecrates.

echecrates: So what did he say before his death? And how did he meet his end? I'd enjoy hearing about it, you see. For, as a matter of fact, scarcely any citizens of Phlius visit Athens these days, and no foreigner who could give us a clear report about it has come from there for a long time. Other than that he died from drinking poison, that is. They couldn't tell us anything else.

phaedo: So haven't you even found out how the trial went?

echecrates: Yes, someone did give us a report about that, and we really were surprised that evidently he died long after it had finished. So why was that, Phaedo?

phaedo: It was a matter of chance, Echecrates, in his case. For by chance on the day before his trial the stern of the ship the Athenians send to Delos had been wreathed.

echecrates: What ship is that?

phaedo: It's the ship in which, according to the Athenians, Theseus once set out to Crete with the famous ‘twice seven’, and both saved their lives and escaped with his own. Anyway, as the story goes, at that time they had vowed to Apollo that if they were saved, in return they would send an embassy to Delos every year.