The Legend of the Four-Year-Old Who Chose the Smaller Pear

The story of Kong Rong yielding the larger pear at age four remains one of China’s most enduring moral tales. In this famous anecdote, the young Kong faced a plate of pears with his siblings and deliberately selected the smallest fruit. When questioned, he explained that as the younger child, he should take the lesser portion. This act of self-restraint and fraternal piety became legendary, embodying Confucian values of humility and family hierarchy.

This episode gained such cultural traction that it spawned the proverb “three years old reveals eighty” – suggesting childhood behavior predicts lifelong character. Yet Kong Rong’s subsequent biography presents a fascinating paradox. The same child celebrated for exemplary filial piety grew into an adult whose unconventional views on family relationships would shock even modern sensibilities. His declaration that a child owes no special gratitude to parents – comparing mothers to containers and dismissing fathers’ role as mere “products of lust” – directly contradicted the Han dynasty’s foundational principle of filial governance.

The Performance of Genius: Kong at Ten

The Records of the Grand Historian preserves another revealing childhood episode when ten-year-old Kong visited Luoyang with his father. The capital’s most formidable figure was Li Ying, the Tiger of the Secretariat, whose approval could transform scholars’ careers overnight. Li maintained exclusive salons, admitting only distinguished talents or relatives.

Undeterred, young Kong announced himself as Li’s kinsman. When questioned about this improbable claim, he invoked their shared philosophical lineage: “My ancestor Confucius learned from your ancestor Laozi, making our families intellectual kin across generations.” This audacious linkage of China’s two greatest sages dazzled the assembly, showcasing Kong’s precocious wit and rhetorical flair.

The arrival of Minister Chen Wei provided Kong’s next showcase. When Chen dismissed child prodigies with “early brilliance often fades,” Kong instantly retorted: “You must have been quite brilliant as a child.” This exchange established Kong’s lifelong pattern – valuing performative cleverness over substantive debate, preferring the striking phrase to logical consistency.

The Making of a Professional Provocateur

As Kong matured, his talents for satire and showmanship found dangerous expression in political commentary. Three legendary confrontations with Cao Cao reveal his methods:

First, when Cao’s son appropriated a war prize (the beautiful Lady Zhen), Kong invented a historical precedent: “When King Wu conquered Zhou, he gave Daji to the Duke of Zhou.” Pressed for sources, Kong admitted: “Given current events, I presumed it must have happened thus.” This “evidence from present circumstances” became proverbial for fabricated citations.

Second, mocking Cao’s northern campaigns, Kong suggested settling ancient tribal grievances while abroad: “The Sushen tribe hasn’t paid arrow tribute since Zhou times; the Dingling stole Su Wu’s sheep – perhaps you could adjudicate these while campaigning?” His erudite barbs turned historical knowledge into weapons.

Finally, when Cao banned alcohol citing moral hazards, Kong countered: “If wine ruined rulers, why not ban marriage since lust destroyed kings?” Such rhetorical extremes characterized his style – less concerned with policy than with delivering unforgettable lines.

The Architecture of a Martyrdom

Kong’s downfall resulted from crossing Cao’s ultimate red line: communicating with enemy envoys from Sun Quan’s southern regime. While previous insults were tolerated as intellectual sport, engaging with rival powers constituted treason. More fundamentally, Kong’s immense scholarly prestige made him dangerously influential. His execution in 208 CE served as Cao’s warning to dissenting literati.

The Records preserves Kong’s final act with heartbreaking clarity. As officers arrived, his two sons (ages eight and nine) continued playing nail-tapping games undisturbed. Kong’s plea – “May my crimes die with me; spare my children?” – reveals uncharacteristic vulnerability. The children’s serene response – “Did any nest survive overturned with eggs intact?” – demonstrated they had inherited their father’s philosophical composure. Their subsequent arrest completed the tragedy.

The Contradictions of Legacy

Kong’s afterlife proves complex. While Cao eliminated potential resistance, he permitted Kong’s married daughter to live (she later became ancestress to Jin dynasty statesman Yang Hu). Notably, Cao Pi admired Kong’s literary genius, comparing him to Yang Xiong and Ban Gu, commissioning collections of his works. That most writings were lost to time rather than censorship suggests Kong’s ideas, however controversial, weren’t systematically suppressed.

Modern assessments vary dramatically. Traditional readings emphasize Kong’s early virtue corrupted by later eccentricity. Psychological interpretations suggest the pear incident revealed innate performative tendencies that matured into professional contrarianism. What remains undeniable is Kong’s enduring cultural presence – both as childhood moral exemplar and as cautionary tale about the perils of intellectual independence in authoritarian systems.

His life’s central paradox – the model child who became the problematic adult – continues to challenge simplistic assumptions about character development. The same qualities that made Kong brilliant (quick wit, unconventional thinking, performative flair) proved politically fatal. In this sense, his story transcends historical particulars to pose timeless questions about the relationship between individual genius and social conformity, between intellectual freedom and political survival.