A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Reflection) by Yi Hwang (T’oegye) 0824855841, 9780824855840

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
A Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style
Abbreviations
I. Translator’s Introduction
II. Translation. The Chasŏngnok
Notes
Glossary of Key Terms, Titles, and Names
Bibliography
Index
About the Translator

Citation preview

A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought

KOREAN CLASSICS LIBRARY: PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION

A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Reflection) by Yi Hwang (T’oegye)

translated, annotated, and with an introduction by

Edward Y. J. Chung

University of Hawai‘i Press/Honolulu Korean Classics Library

© 2016 The Regents of the University of California All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 21 20 19 18 17 16    6 5 4 3 2 1 ISBN 978-0-8248-5584-0 (cloth) A record of the Cataloging-in-Publication data can be found at the Library of Congress Web site: http://catalog.loc.gov/ Korean Classics Library: Philosophy and Religion Series Editor: Robert Buswell, University of California, Los Angeles Series Editorial Board: Donald Baker, University of British Columbia John Duncan, University of California, Los Angeles Sun Joo Kim, Harvard University Namhee Lee, University of California, Los Angeles Jay Lewis, Oxford University Charles Muller, Tokyo University Young-chan Ro, George Mason University Ken Robinson, International Christian University, Tokyo Edward Shultz, University of Hawai‘i, Mānoa Senior Editor: Jennifer Jung-Kim, University of California, Los Angeles This work was supported by the English Translation of 100 Korean Classics program through the Ministry of Education of the Republic of Korea and the Korean Studies Promotion Service of the Academy of Korean Studies (AKS-2010-AAA-2101). University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources. Design and composition by Wanda China

In memory of my mentor and teacher Julia Ching (1934–2001)

Contents

Preface

ix

Acknowledgments

xi



A Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style

Abbreviations

xiii xix

Part I Translator’s Introduction

T’oegye’s Life and Scholarship T’oegye’s Life T’oegye’s Scholarship The Chasŏngnok and the Heart of T’oegye’s Thought T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions:   Heaven’s Principle and Human Desires Against Buddhism and Daoism True Learning Self-Cultivation Reverence (Kyŏng) and Spiritual Cultivation Conclusion

1 3 3 13 21 22 26 29 32 36 39 43

Part II Translation: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Reflection)

T’oegye’s Introduction 1. Reply Letter [first] to Nam Sibo 2. Reply Letter [second] to Nam Sibo 3. Reply Letter to Kim Paegyong, [Kim] Kahaeng, and [Kim] Tonsŏ 4. Reply Letter [first] to Chŏng Chajung 5. Reply Letter [second] to Chŏng Chajung 6. Reply Letter [third] to Chŏng Chajung 7. Reply Letter [fourth] to Chŏng Chajung 8. Reply Letter [fifth] to Chŏng Chajung 9. Reply Letter [sixth] to Chŏng Chajung 10. Reply Letter [seventh] to Chŏng Chajung 11. Reply Letter [eighth] to Chŏng Chajung

49 49 50 54 55 63 64 67 68 70 74 76 79

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Contents

12. Reply Letter to Disciple Kwŏn Homun on Discussing “Find Joy in Mountains” and “Find Joy in Streams” 13. Reply Letter to Kim Tonsŏ 14. Reply Letter to Yi Sukhŏn 15. Reply Letter to Hwang Chunggŏ to Discuss the Paengnoktonggyu chiphae (Collected interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s rules) 16. Reply Letter to Hwang Chunggŏ Continued 17. Reply Letter to Ki Chŏngja 18. Reply Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn 19. Letter to Chŏng Chajung and Ki Myŏngŏn concerning Their Disagreement on the Doctrine of Learning 20. Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn: A Separate Letter 21. Reply Letter to No Ijae 22. Reply Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn

84 87 99 107 114 118 125 130 136 137 141

Notes

147



229

Glossary of Key Terms, Names, and Titles

Bibliography

235

Index 245

Preface

When I was invited to participate in the Korean Classics Library: Philosophy and Religion translation series, I immediately considered working on the Chasŏngnok, one of the most interesting parts of Master Yi T’oegye’s Complete Works (T’oegye chŏnsŏ). On the whole, the Chasŏngnok’s scholarly merits are equal to T’oegye’s other monumental works, such as the Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams on sage learning)1 and the “Four-Seven Debate Letters.”2 I say this as a specialist in Korean Neo-Confucianism and one who has closely studied T’oegye’s thought, especially his Four-Seven thesis and its related essays and letters. In thinking about my choice of text, I was persuaded that a translation of the Chasŏngnok would make a significant contribution to the broader study of T’oegye’s life and thought. In this regard, it is in my view more directly relevant than his Sŏnghak sipto and Four-Seven letters, each of which is mainly a tightly organized and focused system of his mature thought. Despite its importance, however, the Chasŏngnok has not to my knowledge been sufficiently dealt with in the current literature on T’oegye and Korean thought in either Western or East Asian languages. After going over a few examples of the original work and recognizing how challenging the translation would be, I admit to some initial hesitance about taking on the text. I knew that it would require a great deal of reading and a sophisticated level of understanding and communication to do justice to T’oegye’s work. I recognized as well that it would entail a good deal of annotation and commentary. In the end, encouraged by the Korean Classics program director, Robert Buswell, and his team at the University of California, Los Angeles, and realizing the enormous relevance and significance of the Chasŏngnok as a major primary text, I accepted the invitation to translate the work. As the first comprehensive study of the Chasŏngnok in English, it is my hope that this book will shed new light on the breadth and depth of T’oegye’s life and thought, thereby providing an important primary source for Korean studies in general and Confucian studies in particular. For specialists in East Asian philosophy, religion, or intellectual history, it should stimulate insights into or questions about T’oegye’s Neo-Conix

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Preface

fucianism and its contribution to the development of East Asian thought and perhaps inspire others to undertake specialized studies and promote interest in classics of Korean philosophy, religion, and history in the West. Finally, I hope that we can discover in T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok ideas more globally relevant: a way of wisdom, potentially a converging relationship among the world’s spiritual traditions, philosophical reasoning, and personal cultivation that generalists will find applicable to their own ways of ethics and spirituality.

Acknowledgments

I wish to express my gratitude to the institutions and people who have enabled, facilitated, or inspired me throughout my translation project (2011–2013). I wish to thank Robert E. Buswell Jr., Distinguished Professor of Buddhist Studies and director of the Center for Buddhist Studies, University of California, Los Angeles, and director and general editor of the Korean Classics project. I am honored to thank the Academy of Korean Studies, South Korea, for funding my translation work, which included research travel to Seoul (for example, visits to the National Library, Sŏnggyun’gwan University, and Seoul National University), to the University of Toronto (for library work at the university’s East Asian Library), and to other ­places in Korea and Canada. For scholarly advice, I wish to thank my senior colleagues at the Department of Religious Studies, Seoul National University, especially Professor Emeritus Jangtae Keum, an eminent scholar in the study of Korean Confucianism, including T’oegye’s thought. My warm thanks go to my home institution, the University of Prince Edward Island (Charlottetown, PEI, Canada), for granting me a full-year sabbatical (2011–2012) that, together with an internal research grant, ­enabled me to visit Toronto and Korea for research and scholarly consultation and to complete a good deal of the translation, annotation, and commentary. This project was also assisted by my previous scholarly works (a book and various articles) on Yi T’oegye and Korean Confucian philosophy, ethics, and spirituality, most of which were funded by research and conference travel grants I had received from UPEI between 1992 and 2011, without which the present translation would have been a more difficult and less fruitful project. I wish to thank as well those at UCLA and elsewhere for their efforts on behalf of the Korean Classics Library 100 project in terms of project management, editorial work, and administrative or funding support. They include Professor Buswell’s project team colleagues in Korean studies at UCLA. In particular, my thanks go to Dr. Jennifer Jung-Kim, senior editor and assistant director, UCLA Center for Buddhist Studies, and Peyton Heshin Park, UCLA International Institute, both of whom have communicated closely and effectively with various scholars, including myself. xi

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Acknowledgments

I am grateful to the anonymous reviewers of the book manuscript, four internal and two external, for their critical comments, insightful ideas, and encouraging suggestions during the manuscript review process. Robert Buswell along with four internal reviewers (members of his project editorial board) all contributed to my first draft, followed by external reviews that guided me in preparing the final revision. My warm thanks also go to Philip G. Davis, my senior department colleague, who assisted me in editing the revised manuscript for English style. I am grateful to my university’s president (Alaa Abd-El-Aziz), vicepresidents of academic affairs (Christian Lacroix) and research and graduate studies (Robert Gilmour), dean of arts (Neb Kujundzic), and the Asian Studies Program for their generous contributions to the publication costs of this book. Finally, I would like to thank the copyeditor, Patricia Crosby, for her superb professional service in finalizing the manuscript. My thanks also go to Stephanie Chun, acquisitions editor, and all of her colleagues at the University of Hawai‘i Press for looking after the publication and marketing of the book.

A Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style

Korean names, terms, and titles are transliterated according to the standard McCune-Reischauer system; Chinese counterparts are according to the Pinyin system. In romanizing Korean given/private names (myŏng/ ming), literary/pen names (ho/hao), and courtesy/style names (cha/zi), I follow the accepted style of dropping the hyphen between two characters (syllables): for example, Yi T’oegye (not T’oe-gye). Likewise, Chinese counterparts are given according to the standard style, which has no hyphen between two characters: Zhou Dunyi (Song Neo-Confucian), Mou Zongsan (modern Chinese scholar), and so on. In traditional East Asia, T’oegye and other scholars referred to each other by given name, literary name, courtesy name, and official title interchangeably according to appropriate standards or situations. In treating these names, I follow T’oegye’s format in my translator’s introduction as well as in the translated text and notes. Unless I specify some other form of the name, the version given is the family and given names. Names listed in the glossary at the back of the book indicate the name category. For T’oegye’s writings and other primary or secondary Korean ­sources cited, only the Korean titles are given, as is the standard style. To avoid confusion, however, the titles of Chinese sources such as early classics and leading Song and Ming Neo-Confucian writings that T’oegye often quotes are given in Chinese only. With some exceptions, the romanized philosophical terms are provided in both languages in parentheses. Since this is a major work by a leading Korean thinker, most of the romanized terms place the Korean pronunciation first followed by the Chinese with a slash between them: for example, i/li (principle). I have maintained this style consistently throughout the book, including the translation and glossary. As is well known, consistency in the translation of Confucian and Neo-Confucian philosophical terms is an elusive goal due to their subtlety or flexibility of meaning, involving diverse implications according to the context. Therefore, my approach to this task is to maintain the standard English renderings of most terms as much as possible. For example, the term i/li is translated as “principle,” which is generally accepted as the xiii

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best English equivalent in current scholarship. In the Zhu Xi school, it is conceived as the “principle” or “ground of being” that underlies all concrete things and phenomena.1 However, we need to keep in mind that there are other translations with their corresponding meanings: for example, regarding self-cultivation, the term i/li also signifies moral principles and/or virtues as a set of “guidelines for moral practice,” as was often emphasized by many leading Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi and Yi T’oegye. Another key term is kyŏng/jing, “reverence,” “be reverent,” “reverential piety/virtue,” or “moral seriousness”; we may also translate it as “mindfulness,” “attentiveness,” “holistic self-awareness,” “(moralspiritual) respect,” and so on. Overall, “reverence” is arguably the most meaningful translation of this particular term.2 As for the idea of sŏng/ xing in Neo-Confucian metaphysics and ethics, I use “human nature” or “nature,” each of which is thought to be full of truth and goodness. Translations of some key words vary depending on the context. For example, the term sim/xin is translated interchangeably as “mind,” “heart,” or even better “mind-and-heart”; in fact, the term points to the Confucian belief in the intellectual, ethical, psychological, and spiritual continuum and interaction of the mind-and-heart as a whole. Furthermore, since the Neo-Confucian literature, including T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok, discusses sim in terms of its ch’e/ti and yong/yong, this book also uses the standard translations of ch’e and yong: “substance” and “function,” respectively. From a comparative philosophical perspective, we should also note that there are other meaningful translations, such as the “ideal” and the “real,” respectively; “essence” and “existence”; and “potential” and “the actualization of the potential.” The philosophical term chŏng/qing—which frequently appears in T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok as well as other Confucian writings—is translated as “feeling(s),” “emotion(s),” or “feelings and emotions,” according to the physical, psychological, or inclusive context. We are generally aware of the basic difference between “emotions” and “feelings” in English and the Western philosophical context: the English word “emotion” refers to “a moving, stirring, agitation and perturbation,” whereas the word “feeling” means “the sense of touch in the looser acceptance of the term, in which it includes all physical sensibility not referable to the special senses of sight, hearing, taste, and smell” (Oxford English Dictionary, Compact Ed.). As I have discussed elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 1998b), the term chŏng/qing denotes feelings, emotions, or feelings and emotions together, depending on the context; I have also translated it as “feelings/emotions” in certain ­cases. T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok often refers to “feelings and emotions”



A Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style

xv

together, engaging our body as well as our mind-and-heart at the same time. Emotion, as in the case of his philosophy and moral psychology, may also be an aroused physical or psychological state, often the result of a stimulation of the mind. Throughout this book, most concepts are explained in the notes. On account of the complexity of translating these terms comprehensively, I use the following romanized forms when appropriate: i (principle), ki (“material force” or “ether”), kyŏng (reverence), and so on.The glossary at the end of the book offers a list of the key philosophical terms, personal names, and textual titles mentioned in the Chasŏngnok as well as my introduction and the notes to it and the translation. Their Chinese characters (hanja) are not given in either the text or notes but can be found in the glossary. References and cross-references to T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok or T’oegye chŏnsŏ (Complete works; hereafter abbreviated as TC) are usually cited in the notes. Notes to the translation occasionally contain lengthy comments and/or quotations that provide the reader further textual description and interpretive discussion and encourage further reflection. As I note in my introduction, my translation is as complete and literal as possible, but I endeavor to enrich the translation by giving a textually and philosophically comprehensive study of the subject matter in these detailed notes. I make numerous cross-references to my own notes, both to the introduction and the translation. In certain minor cases (paragraphs, sentences, or words) throughout the Chasŏngnok, T’oegye’s writing is somewhat unclear or subtle either because his wording is abbreviated or insufficient or because he expected his reader (disciple or junior colleague) to know the basic textual or historical context. While T’oegye’s style of presentation was common practice among thinkers and scholars in traditional East Asia and would have presented no major problem for its original audience, it seemed appropriate for this translation to provide clarification, historical background, or missing information where needed and to the extent possible, all of which appear in the notes. Parentheses in the translation are used where I’ve included the romanized Korean/Chinese versions of translated terms, titles of primary sources, or translations of source titles: for example, human nature (sŏng/ xing); T’oegye’s Record of Self-Reflection (Chasŏngnok); Zhuzi daquan (Great compendium of works by Master Zhu). I also use parentheses to include the literal meaning of a phrase like the following: single-minded effort (literally, “concentrating on one thing”); Neo-Confucian books (literally, “books on human nature and principle”). My interpolations in the trans-

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lation or in quoted passages in the introduction or my notes to provide a descriptive word or two, textual clarification, or information helpful to the modern reader are in square brackets. Italics appear occasionally in quoted passages to provide emphasis or to highlight passages or words quoted by T’oegye; unless otherwise noted, the italics are mine. T’oegye often directly or indirectly cites early Confucian classics and leading Song Neo-Confucian commentaries in his Chasŏngnok. I have used the primary sources to provide annotation or cross-referencing, as mentioned above. The early Chinese works include the Five Classics, especially the Changes, Rites, and History, and all of the Four Books: the Analects, Great Learning, Doctrine of the Mean, and Mencius. The Chinese Neo-Confucian writings mentioned by T’oegye include the following: Zhouzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhou Dunyi); Zhangzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhang Zai); Er-Cheng quanshu (Complete works of the two Cheng brothers); Yishu (Surviving works of the two Chengs); Zhuzi daquan (Great compendium of works by Master Zhu Xi) (hereafter abbreviated as ZZDQ); Zhuzi wenji (Collection of literary works by Master Zhu Xi) (abbreviated as ZZWJ); Zhuzi yulei (Classified conversations of Master Zhu Xi) ( ZZYL); and Zhuzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhu) (ZZQS). For easy reference, a list of these abbreviations and others is included in this book’s frontmatter. When any of these primary references, classical or Neo-Confucian, is quoted or paraphrased by T’oegye or whenever I annotate it further in the notes, I try to provide the reader with the most available and reliable versions of these primary sources. As a guiding principle, my first choice is to cite the Sibu beiyao (SBBY). If the quoted passage exists in a reliable English translation, I adopt it, documenting the source; unless otherwise cited, the translations are my own. I am indebted to Wing-tsit Chan’s pioneering scholarship in the translation of many classics and Neo-Confucian commentaries and have extensively consulted or adopted his translation of Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu (Chinssu lu [Reflections on things at hand], 1967); his selected translations of the Four Books; and those of Zhouzi quanshu, Zhangzi quanshu, Er-Cheng quanshu, Yishu, ZZWC, ZZYL, and ZZQS in his Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (Chan 1963a). My thanks also to D. C. Lau, whose translations of the Analects (1979) and the Mencius (1970) have benefited me. The reader will see from my notes the extent to which I have consulted Chan’s and Lau’s works in citing Confucius and Mencius as well as Song Neo-Confucians such as the Cheng brothers, Zhu Xi, and others. Furthermore, I have consulted two relevant Korean sources: Minjok munwha ch’ujinhoe’s T’oegyejip (Collected literary works by T’oegye), Korean Classics general



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series (1968, 1982); and Ch’oe Chungsŏk’s Korean Chasŏngnok (Kukhak charyowŏn, 1998). The former, a modern Korean translation of selected parts of the T’oegye chŏnsŏ (written in literary Chinese), includes about half of T’oegye’s letters included in the Chasŏngnok; the latter is a full edited Korean translation of the Chasŏngnok. My translation work was facilitated by consulting these Korean sources as well.

Abbreviations

SBBY

Sibu beiyao 四部備要 (Complete essentials of the four categories). 1920–1936. Shanghai: Zhonghua shuj.

TC

Yi T’oegye 李退溪. 1985. T’oegye chŏnsŏ 退溪全書 (Complete works of Yi T’oegye), enlarged ed. 5 vols. Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan University Press.

ZZDQ Zhu Xi 朱熹. 1930. Zhuzi daquan 朱子大全 (Great compendium of works by Master Zhu Xi). In SBBY. ZZQS

Zhu Xi 朱熹. 1714 ed. Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書 (Complete works of Master Zhu Xi).

ZZWJ Zhu Xi 朱熹. Zhuzi wenji (Collection of literary works by Master Zhu Xi). In ZZDQ. ZZYL

Zhu Xi 朱熹. 1880 ed. Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 (Classified conversations of Master Zhu Xi). Compiled by Li Jingde (fl. 1263).

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I. Translator’s Introduction

Translator’s Introduction

The Chasŏngnok (Record of self-reflection) is a special “record” (rok or nok; collection) of twenty-two philosophical and scholarly letters written by Yi T’oegye (1501–1570),1 a leading thinker and scholar in the Korean tradition of Neo-Confucianism. I begin this introduction by attending to the text’s basic theme and structure and to outlining my approach to its translation. The letters comprising the Chasŏngnok were carefully selected by T’oegye himself after practicing “self-reflection” (chasŏng) on his understanding and experience of Confucian learning and self-cultivation. T’oegye wrote these major letters, many of which are quite lengthy, during his fifties, until around the year 1560. They are addressed to his six close disciples and three junior colleagues, one of whom was Yi Yulgok,2 who himself became a famous Neo-Confucian thinker in Korea. In his own introduction to the Chasŏngnok, T’oegye begins by quoting Confucius and by making a self-effacing claim as follows: “In the past, people were loath to speak because they regarded it shameful if their person failed to keep up with their own words.”3 I have exchanged letters with my friends and colleagues while studying and discussing [Confucian] learning; the reason why I quote this saying here is inevitable to the extent that I am unable to overcome my own embarrassment. . . . Frankly, this is not only shameful but also very worrisome. (Chasŏngnok 1)

T’oegye wrote this statement in 1558 when he was fifty-eight years old. The import of the statement seems to be that in preparing the Chasŏngnok, T’oegye’s modesty led him to question his efforts at self-cultivation in daily life. The truth of Confucian learning fundamentally meant for him “to keep up with” what is said, and insofar as he felt he fell short of the goal of moral practice beyond “studying and discussing,” he was “ashamed” and “embarrassed.” He had therefore chosen this set of special letters and kept the collection beside his desk so that he could use them “repeatedly” 1

2

A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought

for his daily reading and self-reflection. The subtle meaning of T’oegye’s testimony here certainly points to his emphasis on the actual practice of self-cultivation as the heart of his scholarship and thought, a topic I will return to later in this introduction when I discuss it in detail in the context of the Chasŏngnok. We may note that the Chasŏngnok is neither a biographical nor a chronological account of T’oegye’s life or learning. Nor is it a formal or apologetic report on the eventual outcome of his efforts. Rather, it was a written source (nok) that served to motivate T’oegye in his daily practice of self-reflection as well as to inform others about the true Confucian way; indeed, reflecting on his own experience as a student, scholar, mentor, and spiritual practitioner inspired T’oegye to compile the Chasŏngnok as something that “humbly” represented the dignity of his life and thought. In other words, the Chasŏngnok is about his holistic knowledge and experience of self-cultivation. It therefore includes a good deal of textual and philosophical material on various key Confucian doctrines, ideas, and insights, many of which will help us to discover the vital aspects of T’oegye’s learning, ethics, and spirituality. I consider myself primarily a translator and have therefore endeavored to translate the Chasŏngnok in such a way that each sentence, phrase, or word is rendered literally as T’oegye himself had originally intended. At the same time, I have adopted a style of translation intended to make clear to the reader why his letters are interesting and worth reading. With that in mind, I have occasionally taken minor liberties with the translation to improve textual clarity and smooth readability and rhetorical flow. I see myself secondarily as a textual study interpreter. The literary genres—textual vocabulary and symbols—and philosophical concepts as well as their moral meanings and spiritual implications embedded in the Chasŏngnok motivated me to provide interpretations and commentary, both in this introduction and as notes appended to the translation, to explain the way in which T’oegye defended, articulated, and developed the basic doctrines and ideas expressed in the letters. Korean Neo-Confucianism is strongly committed to the orthodox Cheng-Zhu school of China,4 and this was especially true for T’oegye. T’oegye presented many original and Neo-Confucian texts by quoting classical masters (e.g., Confucius and Mencius) as well as Chinese Neo-Confucians (including the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi [1130–1200]), so my commentary in the notes provides a balanced method of description, comparison, and interpretation. In order to accomplish this task, I examine early Chinese works, such as the Four Books of classical Confucianism, as well as the standard Neo-Confucian commentaries of the Cheng-Zhu school.



Translator’s Introduction

3

When appropriate I provide my own interpretation in the notes, and my views are accompanied by textual comments or cross-referencing citations both in this introduction as well as in the notes to the translation itself. I also provide comments on the Korean thinker’s critique of Buddhism and philosophical Daoism. Furthermore, I have offered a few brief notes about some parallels between T’oegye and Western thought, especially regarding the ethics and spirituality of human nature and emotions. While a great deal of comparative analysis could be made between the Korean thinker and the Western tradition, such an undertaking is beyond the scope of this book. Instead, in the rest of this introduction, I will pre­ sent the historical, philosophical, and spiritual context of the Chasŏngnok as it pertains to T’oegye’s thought in general and his practice of self-cultivation in particular. I begin the following section with a historical discussion of his life and scholarship, which will include a chronological overview of his major works and the influence of his scholarly encounter with two brilliant young thinkers, Yi Yulgok and Ki Kobong (literary name; 1527–1572). I next discuss the heart of T’oegye’s thought according to the Chasŏngnok, covering those key examples dealing with Neo-Confucian metaphysics, ethics, and spiritual cultivation. As we read through the Chasŏngnok, we should consider T’oegye as a philosopher, moralist, spiritual master, and educator whose experience and insights may offer the modern reader an interesting holistic philosophy of life. Indeed, the Chasŏngnok significantly shaped the way in which the Korean thinker endeavoured to develop a practical guide to personal cultivation, a Confucian guide that potentially has its modern implication, one of the most important points I address in this introduction. I present some brief concluding remarks about T’oegye’s life and thought regarding the Chasŏngnok at the end of this introduction. Instead of adding a concluding chapter or epilogue at the end of the book, I allow T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok to speak for itself, leaving it to the reader to draw conclusions after reading the translated text. This book is about “self-reflection”; therefore, as T’oegye originally intended, the reader ideally will develop his or her insights through the same contemplative art.

T’oegye’s Life and Scholarship T’oegye’s Life Yi T’oegye was arguably the most eminent thinker in Korean Neo-Confucianism. Better known by his literary name (ho/hao) T’oegye, his fame and reputation are closely identified with the Korean Sŏngnihak (Learning of

4

A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought

Human Nature and Principle school), which is also commonly known as the Chŏngjuhak (Cheng-Zhu school) or Chujahak (Zhuzi school).5 He basically followed the typical lifestyle of a Confucian scholar, engaging in study, public service, teaching, writing, and self-cultivation. T’oegye intended the Chasŏngnok to be a special source for the practice of “self-reflection.” He selected the letters he included in the collection from among all that he had written to his disciples, friends, and colleagues up until about 1560, when he was sixty years old. He appended to these highly integrated letters four essays,6 which are considered to be a good representation of his knowledge and experience regarding Confucian learning and self-cultivation. There are a number of points that need to be highlighted regarding T’oegye’s life and scholarship if we are to appreciate properly his remarkable achievements and reputation,7 something only recently recognized by scholars in the West. For example, he is highly regarded as “the commanding figure in Zhu Xi orthodoxy in Korea” (de Bary 1981, 197) and “a major source of inspiration for creative scholarship on Confucian philosophy and its modern scholarship” (Tu 1978, 467). There is, in other words, now general agreement that T’oegye left behind a superb Korean legacy of Confucian learning, creative thought, and original writing. Accordingly, Western scholarship on T’oegye and Korean Neo-Confucianism has grown significantly in recent years.8 In Chosŏn Korea (1393–1910), Yi Yulgok, who came thirty-five years after T’oegye, praised his senior colleague by saying that “Master T’oegye explained the learning of the Way (tohak/daoxue, or Neo-Confucianism), so it is only after him that our scholars [in Korea] finally understand the essence of Neo-Confucianism”; “Master T’oegye’s scholarship is unmatched by any other scholars in Korea.”9 Chang Chiyŏn (1864–1921), a leading Neo-Confucian scholar who compiled the first history of Korean Confucianism, said that T’oegye was the only scholar who developed the Way of Confucius, Mencius, and Cheng-Zhu in Korea, while teaching it to many disciples.10 Hyŏn Sangyun, a modern historian of Korean Confucianism, also praised T’oegye by saying that ever since the Cheng-Zhu notion of the learning of human nature and principle (sŏngnihak/xinglixue) was introduced into Korea from China, only T’oegye studied and understood it thoroughly and perfectly (1982, 80). Furthermore, T’oegye’s thought influenced Tokugawa Japan during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, which eventually enabled Japanese scholars to establish the Shushigaku (Zhu Xi school), one of the main streams of Neo-Confucianism there. T’oegye was first recognized as a highly distinguished scholar by Fujiwara Seika (1561–1619), the founder of



Translator’s Introduction

5

the Shushigaku, and by his disciple Hayashi Razan (1583–1657).11 Because T’oegye was the compiler of the Korean editions of the Song, Yuan, and Ming writings of the Cheng-Zhu school, Seika, Razan, and their followers respected T’oegye as the Korean transmitter of the Cheng-Zhu school and therefore studied many of his original works. This is said to have led Seika to advocate an independent Neo-Confucian scholarship separate from Zen Buddhism during the early Tokugawa period. After Seika and Razan, Yamazaki Ansai (1618–1682) and his follower Ōtsuka Taiya (1677–1750) were deeply impressed with T’oegye ‘s teaching and character. Inspired by his practice of mind cultivation, they regarded him as a great scholar of the Zhu Xi school.12 He was also said to be the Korean champion of the Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy. Ansai’s disciples in particular admired T’oegye and studied his works seriously. Satō Naokata (1650–1719), for example, claimed that T’oegye’s scholarly achievement stood unmatched by any of the Yuan and Ming Neo-Confucians in China. T’oegye’s influence on Japanese Neo-Confucianism led the modern Japanese scholar Abe Yoshio to acknowledge T’oegye as “the greatest scholar of the Cheng-Zhu school in Korea.”13 In general, we can divide T’oegye’s life into three periods: first, the early period of study up to 1533, when he was thirty-three years old; second, the period of official government service from 1534 to 1549, when he turned forty-nine; and third, the period of retirement, teaching, writing, and self-cultivation lasting almost twenty years from 1549 to 1570, when he died at the age of seventy. At age twelve during the first stage of his life, T’oegye learned the Analects from his uncle Yi U (literary name Songjae; 1469–1517). Since his uncle had a reputation for poetry, T’oegye quickly learned from him and developed a serious lifelong dedication to poetry. He was probably unique among Korean Confucian scholars for the volume of his poetry, his having composed over two thousand poems of various types, including nature and self-cultivation poems, many of which were written during his fifties and sixties, the years of retirement in his beloved hometown, T’oegye (the name of which is identical to his literary name, or ho), located in Andong, Kyŏngsang province.14 He was attracted particularly to the poetry of Tao Yuanming (365–427), the famous Chinese poet whose central theme was rural retirement and closeness to nature. T’oegye’s lifelong interest in poetry intersected with his love of nature and eventually influenced the spiritual dimension of his philosophy. Time and again he resigned from his government appointments in order to pursue a private scholarly life in the countryside, as indicated in his biography and Chasŏngnok letters. Retiring to his hometown and the academy he

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A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought

wanted to build there inspired him to advance his study and writing and to practice self-cultivation. T’oegye composed a four-line poem in 1550 and titled it “T’oegye,” after his hometown. It is about “retiring” (t’oe) to his home and his feeling of natural intimacy with a nearby “stream,”15 thereby expressing his deep regret over the lack of time for self-reflection left him by public service during his early years. The basic spirit of T’oegye’s poems assimilated a scholarly life in harmony with nature; in other words, they conveyed the idea that forming “one body” with nature inspires a love of nature as well as one’s continuous effort at self-cultivation.16 In 1519, at the age of nineteen, T’oegye began studying the Book of Changes, one of the Five Classics. In the same year he also obtained a copy of the Xingli daquan (Great compendium of human nature and principle), an encyclopaedic compendium of the discussions of the Song and Yuan Neo-Confucian thinkers, the seventy fascicles of which are topically arranged to cover the most fundamental doctrines and concepts of the Cheng-Zhu school.17 It was this text that first inspired him to continue his extensive and intensive study of Neo-Confucianism.18 From this time, T’oegye was so occupied with reading these books that he “almost forgot to eat and sleep.” The rigors of his studies at this point ruined his health, which he was never to fully recover and which remained a constant burden, as he mentions in many of his letters in the Chasŏngnok. T’oegye’s in-depth study of the Changes later enabled him to compile a major commentary on its study: Kyemong chŏnŭi (Problems relating to the study of the Book of Changes), details of which are discussed in the following section on T’oegye’s major works. During his fifties and sixties, T’oegye often cited his worsening health as something that greatly hindered his study and caused him to resign from his government appointments. For example, in 1556 when he was fifty-six years old, in the first of the Chasŏngnok letters, he wrote to his disciple Nam Sibo19 as follows: I am getting old with a serious illness, so I am obviously getting weaker every day. Compared to the time we met before, my illness is twice as bad. My hair and beard are dull and shrinking, my spirit is weary, my eyes are murky, and all symptoms are happening to me one after another. Recently His Majesty [King Myŏngjong] appointed me once again to serve in the court,20 but my illness has gotten even worse due to this summer’s hot weather, so I was very weak and could not even move my body around. As a result, I inevitably had to submit a letter of resignation again to the king and sincerely begged him to remove my name. (Chasŏngnok 1)



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Either in that same year or the one following (1557), T’oegye wrote a letter to his beloved disciple Chŏng Chajung21 and told him about his “persistent illness” and its impact on his study and moral-spiritual self-cultivation. My serious illness is lingering, so I cannot give my full effort to reading, the study of principles, and moral practice. And I am no help to our friends and colleagues with regard to learning and self-cultivation; I sometimes think about this and feel nervous and uncomfortable. I have almost finished copying and editing Master Zhu Xi’s writings. Every time someone comes to see me with a copied version of Zhu’s works, I have to check and correct it against the original, but I also frequently become mentally and physically tired due to my persistent illness. . . . I am wondering how many more years heaven will grant me for more study at this late stage of my life. (Chasŏngnok 5)

In this and many other letters, we can observe T’oegye’s modest manners and self-effacing character. Despite his protestations of illness, he continued to work diligently on his learning and self-cultivation. At age twenty-three, T’oegye entered the Sŏnggyun’gwan royal Confucian academy in Seoul. This was in 1523, while the 1519 purge of literati was still affecting the capital politically and academically. In 1527 and 1528 he passed the two lower levels of civil service examination. However much this success burnished his family’s social standing, T’oegye actually had no intention of moving on to take the final examinations that would open the way to an elite official career in the central government. In the end, though, T’oegye could not refuse his mother’s wish for his continuous success and in 1534 he passed the final tests, finishing second highest, and then immediately entered government service. During his fifties and sixties, T’oegye was prompted to admonish his disciples and junior colleagues about the problems with Korea’s civil exam­ination system and career path in public service. For example, he criticized scholars’ “common” obsession with passing the exams and seeking “quick” career gains. In a letter to his leading disciple Kim Tonsŏ,22 T’oegye confesses in a dignified manner: Hwang [I], too, was just like them [people who are stuck with the learning defect of desiring quick success] before, when I was preparing for the civil service examination. I was, moreover, lazy after that due to my illness, and my study became very worthless and I have wasted some years because of this. This year, as my health has become weaker, I have been unable to catch up with my study by doing extra work. I could

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A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought not advise or assist our colleagues, students, and friends, and I am even afraid to talk to them. Recently I realized that this trouble was more seriously [than I had thought], for which reason I feel embarrassed in my heart and I am trying to overcome it. (Chasŏngnok 13)

Here we see T’oegye as a caring mentor and a self-effacing colleague. He often used such polite language in communicating with his disciples. In his eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung, T’oegye also tells this disciple (and others) as follows: There are many scholars and students in our town, but all of them are obsessively busy with preparing themselves for government service examinations. Therefore, their reading efforts are very hurried, for which reason they have no intention whatsoever of pausing for a moment to properly understand and maintain the reason for this work. (Chasŏngnok 11)

In 1557 at age fifty-seven, T’oegye told his bright junior colleague Yi Yulgok23 as follows: When these people [persons of gifted talent or exceptional intelligence] have not yet advanced to the higher honors of learning, many of them are seized by the government examination system. Even if they arrived at their higher honors, they have fallen into the danger of taking selfish personal profits, so they cannot act courageously even if they may have some intention to do so. . . . If you act in this world according to your mind-and-heart of experience, then I am certain that, unlike many other people, you will not get attracted to government service examinations and the danger of making [selfish] profits. (Chasŏngnok 14)

T’oegye advice not to follow the trend of attaining quick personal gain via the examination route was prompted by his belief that such behavior was a national problem bound to ruin the true Confucian way. Although T’oegye always maintained the commitment to Confucian learning and self-cultivation, it is somewhat ironic that his many personal letters to his son reveal a parental urge to encourage his own son to study harder and succeed in the examination competition and that the son did not satisfy the father’s high academic expectations.24 Most of T’oegye’s career as an official (1534–1549) was during King Chungjong’s reign, which ended in 1544. Like other young men of talent, T’oegye served in many official positions—a total of twenty-nine—that



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especially utilized his scholarly and literary skills. He fulfilled his official duties effectively enough during his thirties and forties but at the same time wanted to retire as soon as he could to study and write. He never seemed to develop any strong political ambitions or craving for fame.25 In 1543 he obtained the Zhuzi daquan (Great compendium of works by Master Zhu), which had finally been printed in Korea for the first time. He had not previously been aware of the text and upon securing a copy immediately began to study it, which only further strengthened his desire to resign from public life. His study of this multivolume work was a challenging and time-consuming task, and it later became an important NeoConfucian textual authority in shaping his philosophy. T’oegye became familiar with Zhu’s scholarship, ideas, and sayings, and often quoted them in his own writings. He particularly liked and mastered Zhu Xi’s philosophical and personal letters, which make up about one-third of the Zhuzi daquan. In fact, his dedicated study of Zhu’s letters later resulted in 1558 in the publication of a major edited volume, the Chujasŏ chŏryo (Essentials of Master Zhu’s correspondence), a special collection of about one-third of Zhu Xi’s letters. T’oegye certainly realized the significance of the epistolary genre in the scholarly dissemination of knowledge and experience, for which reason he decided to compile the Chujasŏ chŏryo. This also inspired T’oegye to prepare his Chasŏngnok.26 Among his letters were about fifty-three in which he either resigned from or declined government appointments. Among the excuses given in these documents were his lifelong illness, old age, and lack of knowledge. In reality, however, he undoubtedly had other crucial reasons that he could not express explicitly in public. Foremost among the reasons for the frequent cycle of T’oegye’s resignations and retirements was his lifelong wish to devote himself to study, writing, and self-cultivation at a “quiet place” on a “mountain” in his hometown of T’oegye. In 1559 or 1560, he wrote a letter to his leading junior colleague, Ki Kobong,27 articulating an interesting personal testimony. Please allow Hwang [me] to talk briefly about my own experience. When I was young, I dedicated myself to learning from an early age, but I unfortunately received no guidance from any teacher or friend, and my physical illness had already worsened. So I faced all this. . . . In retrospect, I see that I could not renounce [the world] and [instead] engaged myself in seeking an official public position by writing the civil service examinations. For that time, I tested myself by asking this question: “If it somehow happens not to be right for me, I’ll be able to quit and retire. Who can ever stop me from doing so?” I thought along this

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A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought line. However, I did not realize that present and past are greatly different. . . . Earlier in my life, I felt that my nature would be a good fit with mountains and hills. However, [even though] I did not admire receiving a government salary [from my official position], my scholarship did not illuminate principle (i/li) and I was murky about its present meaning. I did realize this problem for the first time only after making such a mistake, but it was difficult to fix the problem, for which reason I am still facing the same situation. Nevertheless, the reason I have also been able to conduct myself according to the old meaning [of sagely teaching] is that people in our country are all aware of my physical illness, and the ghosts and spirits of the world are also watching it. (Chasŏngnok 17)

It is interesting to note here T’oegye’s claim that he had no real teacher around him and that his persistent illness was also worsening but that his ultimate goal was to “advance” study and “cultivate” himself by retiring in the natural scenery of his hometown. He regretted spending many years on civil service examinations and his government career. The second related reason for T’oegye’s resignations and retirements was a series of four serious purges of the Confucian literati that occurred before and during his time. T’oegye was not untouched by the painful aftermath of such purges; for example, he greatly suffered from losing his own brother, Yi Hae, in 1550. Yi Hae was arrested and subjected to beatings and exile and soon thereafter died of his injuries. T’oegye could not criticize the political power struggles and purges of literati explicitly in public for fear of retribution. Nevertheless, in a private letter to his junior colleague No Ijae,28 T’oegye indirectly indicated his strong concern, shame, and frustration over the problem. Some people pretend to be wise and gain honor by falsely representing themselves or by being deceitful and making up lies; in this case, any disaster and failure that results is truly a self-generated. There are those, however, whose honor is highly abundant because they develop a luminous internal life, maintain an impressive outlook, and practice the fulfillment of virtue. Even in this case, criticism and disapproval follow honor, [a situation that] cannot entirely be overcome. How, then, can we say that this is all one’s own fault? As people in the old days said, “If you truly do not maintain your honor, there is no [other] way to do good.” Nowadays people are arrogant to others, reject those who do good things, and publicly denounce those who pursue learning. . . . If you say that as a result you can no longer be dedicated to learning, then I see that although this [situation] originates from your bitter grievance



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and deep lamentation [over your exile], it is not the truth. I cannot help being doubtful about your situation. Have you not thought about the last political persecution: how [serious] it was, and what feelings you have toward it?29 (Chasŏngnok 21)

Here we can see the embedded meaning of T’oegye’s highly critical characterization of the lingering problem of political corruption and persecution: “Falsifying,” “being deceitful and making lies,” “self-seeking” gain, and “arrogance” obviously contradict the Confucian way of learning, selfcultivation, and public ethics. Regarding the third reason for T’oegye’s constant retirements, he obviously experienced a great deal of disappointment and concern with the ongoing problems of injustice, deception, and selfishness in the capital during his career years. In 1559 or 1660, T’oegye wrote a letter to his junior colleague Ki Kobong that made a similar point. Scholars have forgotten when to pursue an official career as well as when to retire from it, and the tradition of propriety and ritual through resigning from it [a public post] has collapsed. So the defect of seeking empty, selfish fame has become much more serious: The more one looks for a way out, the more dangerous it becomes, and nowadays taking up work and giving it up have become more difficult to do. This is why opinions of criticism and censure are rising like a mountain to an extremely high level. (Chasŏngnok 17)

For T’oegye, the system of civil service examination and conditions related to a public career had become so corrupt that the proper tradition of retirement had “collapsed,” and the common “defect” of obsession with “selfish fame” became “more dangerous.” He mentioned the same problem in his letters to other disciples and junior colleagues such as Nam Sibo, Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11), Kim Tonsŏ, and Yi Yulgok. In another letter to Ki Kobong in 1558, T’oegye used a more strongly cautionary tone in addressing the problem. As a man takes the first step [in the civil service system], his worthless fame will first spread throughout the world; this has been the common defect of the past and present and is a fearsome problem. . . . Anyone who fails to understand this problem and tolerates it for the sake of his [selfish] interests will not be able to avoid telling false stories, which will diminish his name and reputation. In general, this means not only cheating oneself but also cheating others, which is certainly unavoidable due

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A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought to the popularity of acquiring fame. If this continues to its conclusion, one will fail and collapse. This isn’t strange, is it? . . . At present, you definitely may not see the urgency of my precautionary words; however, later when you have to deal with such a situation [as I experienced], you will certainly rethink my advice. Hopefully, you will be mindful of and careful with [what I am saying] for the sake of your well-being. (Chasŏngnok 20)

In this as well as the twenty-second, and final, letter in the Chasŏngnok, T’oegye warned his junior friend Kobong about such ongoing trouble using such terms like “worthless fame,” “common defect,” “fabricated stories,” “cheating oneself/others,” personal “collapse,” thereby reinforcing his view of the troubling reality of political wickedness in a public career. As a result of all these factors, T’oegye decided to resign once and for all from government service in 1549. He left his official post without permission and went to T’ogye (later renamed T’oegye), a small place near to a stream not far from his birthplace. His retirement immediately began to support his scholarly endeavor; hence, his literary name (ho), T’oegye. During this third period of his life, 1549–1570, he studied, taught, and wrote in addition to practicing spiritual self-cultivation. However, with the rapid growth of his reputation and throughout his retirement came frequent offers of official appointments to positions in the top three bureaucratic ranks. These high positions included minister of rites, minister of public works, minister of personnel, and so on. In 1552, for example, T’oegye was strongly persuaded to serve as headmaster of the Sŏnggyun’gwan royal academy in Seoul. It was among the most respected positions for a scholar, but he served only for a short period. An introspective and quiet man, T’oegye naturally loved reading and self-reflection. From his early years he often liked to engage in quiet sitting contemplation, especially at night when his mind recovered its serenity. As he later told his disciples, T’oegye’s goal was to prudently think over what he learned from books through self-reflection. When he was a young student attending the Sŏnggyun’gwan, he obtained a copy of the Xinjing (K. Simgyŏng; Classic for the mind-and-heart) written by Zhen Dexiu, a leading Cheng-Zhu scholar of the last Song period.30 From that time to the end of his life this text inspired T’oegye in his daily reading and contemplative practice. Through his reading of the Xinjing together with quiet sitting, he found a deeper meaning of self-cultivation. His respect for the text was so great that in his late sixties the old master used it as a standard text for royal lectures. The way in which he emphasized “learning of the mind-and-heart” (simhak/xinxue)31 as an essential part of



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Confucian learning illustrates his lifelong dedication to the study of this text. T’oegye mentions this key topic of mind cultivation in some of his Chasŏngnok letters32 as well as in his other major writings.33 I will discuss it further below in the sections on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation.” In 1567, when T’oegye was sixty-seven years old, the old master was ordered to return to Seoul to serve the king. However, later that same year when T’oegye heard the news that his colleagues and disciples were urging the new young ruler, King Sŏnjo (r. 1567–1607), to appoint T’oegye as his new chief state councillor, T’oegye immediately left the capital without any notice or regret before the appointment could be made official. His disinclination to serve in this instance was due not only to his lack of ambition for political power or fame; it was also due to the fact that by this time T’oegye’s lifelong illness (which seemed to be a gastrointestinal or related disease) was worsening. Under continuous pressure to return to the capital, T’oegye had no choice but to obey the royal order to take up a prominent new position as royal lecturer and private tutor to the young king. He nevertheless served for only eight months due to his chronic poor health as well as his ongoing and unwavering commitment to a scholarly life in his beautiful hometown. During his short term of service T’oegye compiled two outstanding works on self-cultivation and political administration intended for the edification of the new ruler. These essays, which I discuss further in the following section, were the Yukchosŏ (Six-section memorial) and Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams on sage learning), both printed in 1568. For the most part, T’oegye’s fifties and sixties, from 1549 until his death in 1570, were devoted to study, writing, teaching, and spiritual cultivation. It was a very productive period in which he wrote a number of scholarly works of various kinds in addition to teaching a large and growing number of disciples who came to study at the famous master’s academy. T’oegye’s great reputation for scholarly philosophical advancement was a late accomplishment achieved during the final stage of his life in retirement. It is to his major scholarly works that we turn next. T’oegye’s Scholarship In 1553 when T’oegye was fifty-three years old, he compiled the Ch’ŏn­ myŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic explanation of the Mandate of Heaven). As his first major work, it is a ten-section philosophical essay about the meaning of the Mandate of Heaven in relation to human nature. It also contains a key statement correlating the “Four Beginnings” of virtue and the “Seven

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Emotions,” the statement that initiated the historic Four-Seven debate between T’oegye and his junior colleague Ki Kobong.34 This work is found in the T’oegye sŏnsaeng sokchip (Supplementary collection of Master T’oegye’s writings) 8:11a–20b (in TC, vol. 3, 140–144). The original Ch’ŏnmyŏng to (Diagram of the Mandate of Heaven) was first composed by Chŏng Ch’uman (literary name; 1509–1561); Chŏng’s diagram and T’oegye’s revised version of it are included in the T’oegye chŏnsŏ (41:11a; vol. 2, 321–326). Furthermore, the Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl influenced Japanese Neo-Confucians in the early Tokugawa period; for example, Hayashi Razan studied it as well as T’oegye’s annotation of Zhu Xi’s Dialogue with Li Yanping (Yanping dawen). Hayashi respected the Korean thinker so much that he published the latter text in 1651, thereby introducing Zhu’s philosophy as well as T’oegye’s interpretation to his fellow Japanese Neo-Confucians. T’oegye’s Pi iki wi ilmul pyŏnjŭng (Treatise on the saying that “i and ki are not one”) was probably written some time during the 1550s when T’oegye was busy discussing Zhu Xi’s philosophy of i/li (principle) and ki/qi (material force; physical energy),35 while criticizing Sŏ Hwadam (1489–1546). Commenting on Hwadam’s theory of ki, T’oegye charged that he neglected the essence of i and misunderstood ki as i.36 Hwadam was a leading Korean Neo-Confucian in the mid-sixteenth century; attracted to speculative thought, he also became the first thinker in Korea to formulate a major philosophy of ki in his well-known works.37 In these short treatises he set out some ideas about the transformation of the universe and the workings of ki in this process. Following Zhang Zai (1020–1077), a Song Neo-Confucian who based his philosophy on the dynamic role of ki, Hwadam identified ki with the Great Vacuity itself as the source of the universe. He developed a kind of ki-monism, according to which ki is the fundamental substance of the universe and everything in it is pure and void.38 This is why T’oegye criticized Hwadam’s philosophy for neglecting the daily study of principle and its implication for self-cultivation. In 1557 T’oegye wrote the Kyemong chŏnŭi (Problems relating to the study of the Book of Changes) (TC, vol. 3, 209–248), in which he addressed the study of Zhu Xi’s Yixue qimeng (Instruction for beginners on the study of the Changes). T’oegye composed this work by rearranging a few hundred pages of notes that he wrote while studying the classic and Zhu’s commentary. The Kyemong chŏnŭi was therefore a natural outcome of his respect for Zhu’s Yixue qimeng and his early interest in studying the Book of Changes. T’oegye focuses particularly on Zhu Xi’s comments in order to articulate a number of unclear philosophical points that are mentioned in the Book of Changes. At age fifty-eight in 1558, T’oegye compiled the Chujasŏ chŏryo (TC,



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vol.2, 348–372) by selecting about one-third of Zhu Xi’s letters that, according to T’oegye, directly pertain to Zhu’s learning and self-cultivation efforts. In the same year T’oegye pointed out that he learned the heart of Zhu’s scholarship and philosophy from reading these letters, which eventually inspired him to prepare his own Chasŏngnok. The Chujasŏ chŏryo became one of the standard texts for many Korean Neo-Confucians, as well as among Tokugawa Japanese scholars, including Fujiwara Seika (1561–1619) and Hayashi Razan, who admired T’oegye as a great Korean scholar. In the same year, T’oegye prepared the Chasŏngnok (TC, vol. 3, 151– 190).39 Most of the letters collected there address his experience and interpretation of learning and self-cultivation. The text had a great impact on the rise and development of the Japanese Zhu Xi school, thereby becoming one of the most important texts among the Japanese Neo-Confucians, including Hayashi Razan and Yamazaki Ansai (1618–1682). Yamazaki was deeply inspired by T’oegye’s works such as the Chasŏngnok, Chujasŏ chŏryo and T’oegye sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected works of Master T’oegye).40 Among Ansai’s disciples who highly respected T’oegye was Ōtsuka Taiya (1677–1750). Ōtsuka owed a great deal to T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok and Chujasŏ Chŏryo in developing his own philosophy. It is said that Ōtsuka respected these works as his “stern father.”41 In the following year (1559), T’oegye embarked on compiling a massive historical record of the orthodox transmission of the Zhu Xi school in China. He entitled it Songgye Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok (Comprehensive record of the [Confucian] school of principle in the Song, Yuan, and Ming periods) (TC, vol. 3, 249–552). One of T’oegye’s greatest works, it is an encyclopaedic compendium consisting of historical and philosophical records about Zhu Xi, his predecessors, his disciples, and many other Neo-Confucians who, in T’oegye’s view, transmitted the orthodox Cheng-Zhu school in China. In eleven fascicles of Ponjip (Original collection) and one more fascicle of Oejip (Outer collection), T’oegye reviews over five hundred scholars, recording all the available data on their biographies and the essential features of their philosophies.42 It is quite a valuable sourcebook, and as T’oegye clearly indicated in his introduction, its ­purpose was not merely to preserve a historical record of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucian orthodoxy in Korea but, more important, to clarify and justify its doctrines and scholars according to the true learning of the Way. This work on the transmission of Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy was also in direct contrast to two major critiques of Ming thinkers that T’oegye wrote later in 1566: the Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭmnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu (Postscript to the conveyed copy of Chen Baisha’s Shijiao [Instructions through poetry] and

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Wang Yangming’s Chuanxi lu [Instruction for practical living]) and then the Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn (Critique of Wang’s Chuanxi lu).43 As I outline below, the former essay criticizes Chen Xianzhang (literary name Baisha; 1428–1500) and Wang Yangming for deviating from the orthodox ChengZhu school, and the latter essay harshly opposes Wang’s philosophy for being no different from Zen Buddhism. For nearly seven years, from 1559 to 1566, T’oegye kept himself busy with the most important debate of the entire Korean Confucian tradition: “the Four-Seven debate” on Neo-Confucian philosophy and the moral psychology of human nature and feelings in terms of “the Four Beginnings” of virtue and “the Seven Emotions,” as well as principle and material force.44 T’oegye developed a good deal of his mature ethics and spirituality during these years. The debate started shortly after he began compiling the massive Songgye Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok. He carried out the work by means of exchanging four “Four-Seven letters” with his junior colleague Ki Kobong. The breadth, depth, and intensity of this correspondence broke new ground in the Cheng-Zhu school’s entire system of thought; indeed, the outcome was to generate new ideas, theories, and issues that quickly inspired and divided the Korean intellectual world by shaping the philosophical-scholarly agenda for generations to come.45 In 1566, when he was sixty-six years old, T’oegye wrote Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭmnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu (TC 41:29b–31b; vol. 2, 335–336), an in­fluential essay in which he defended Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy as “right learning” (chŏnghak/zhengxue). T’oegye especially condemned Wang’s ­philosophy of the mind, which is presented in Wang’s Chuanxi lu (Instruction for practical living), as well as Chen Xianzhang’s individualistic thought as explicated in Chen’s Shijiao (Instructions through poetry). Chen was a mid-Ming Chinese scholar who was originally a disciple of Wu Yubei, a leading member of the orthodox Cheng-Zhu school.46 In the Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭmnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu, T’oegye argues that Chen departed radically, in both theory and practice, from Zhu Xi’s philosophy. As T’oegye says, Chen’s “individualistic” thinking as well as Wang’s philosophy “came from the thought of Lu Xiangshan [1139–1192] that focuses on the mind alone,” and “generally speaking, Chen and Wang are both Zen Buddhist in nature” (TC 41:30b; vol. 2, 335). He charges Wang in particular with rejecting Cheng-Zhu doctrines on “the extension of knowledge” (TC 41:30b; vol. 2, 335). In T’oegye’s view, then, Lu, Chen, and Wang all failed to provide systematic guidance for the Confucian way of learning. In the same year (1566), T’oegye also wrote another major critique of Wang Yangming’s thought, Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn (Critique of Wang’s Instruction for Practical Living) (TC 41:23b–29b; vol. 2, 332–335), which was



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in fact the first and most influential critique of Wang’s Chuanxi lu in Korea. T’oegye’s full commitment to the heritage of the Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy (chŏnghak) is vividly illustrated in this systematic essay. As its leading critic in Korea, T’oegye again in this essay expressed his extreme unease with Wang’s philosophy of the mind, characterizing it as “heterodox” or “Zen Buddhist” learning. For example, he declared Wang’s theory that “the mind is principle” to be a “false” view because it abolished the NeoConfucian learning of human nature and principle. In T’oegye’s view, Wang’s discomfort with the doctrine of “investigating the principles of things” led him to speak of the mind only, thereby “betraying the teachings of the sages and worthies” (TC 41:26b, vol. 2, 333). As T’oegye writes, “Is this [Wang’s teaching] not the same as the Buddha’s teaching? Wang sometimes attacked the Buddha in order to prove that his ideas did not come from Buddhism. This means that he cheated not only himself, but also others” (TC 41:26b; vol. 2, 333). We should note here the historical fact that T’oegye, as the leading guardian of the Cheng-Zhu tradition in Korea, played a major role in suppressing any substantial historical development of the Wang Yangming school in Korea.47 T’oegye’s genuine faith in the orthodox Zhu Xi school is expressed also in his biographical work of NeoConfucianism, Songgye Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok. In 1567 T’oegye was ordered to return to Seoul to serve at court as the royal lecturer and private tutor to the king. At age sixty-seven and in poor health, he ended up serving only for eight months. Even in this short period, several years after his intensive Four-Seven debate with Ki Kobong, he successfully compiled two other monumental works: the Yukchosŏ (TC 6:36b–59b; vol. 1, 181–193) and the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211). The Yukchosŏ is a major political essay meant to advise the young king on the Confucian way of learning and self-cultivation. In each of its six sections, T’oegye systematically presents a set of key ideas and recommendations item by item together with his own comments. In this way, T’oegye advised the young ruler about the profound implications of Confucianism for establishing a good government and promoting national prosperity. The famous Sŏnghak sipto needs no lengthy introduction here,48 except to highlight its core theme as well as its connection to the essential message of the Chasŏngnok. The Sŏnghak sipto is one of T’oegye’s most advanced and celebrated works, and it gives a superb systematization and interpretation of the Neo-Confucian tradition of learning, self-cultivation, and sociopolitical ethics. The impact of T’oegye’s Four-Seven thesis on the Sŏnghak sipto is significant; for example, the Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic treatise on the saying “the mind commands human nature

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and feelings”),49 the sixth part of the Sŏnghak sipto, presents two concise summaries of T’oegye’s basic Four-Seven thesis in terms of its key philosophical and moral ideas related to human nature, mind, emotions, i and ki, good and evil, and so on. The integrated framework of metaphysics, ethics, psychological theory, and spirituality is presented throughout ten interrelated sections, each of which has its own diagram, textual authority and commentary, and T’oegye’s own commentary in an organized and engaging manner. It is no wonder, then, that the Sŏnghak sipto was reprinted numerous times during the Chosŏn dynasty and exists today in at least three modern Korean translations. It was also introduced to Tokugawa Japan, where it became one of the most popular texts among Japanese Neo-Confucian students and scholars. In 1569, a year before his death, T’oegye compiled Sasŏ sŏgŭi (An interpretation of the Four Books) (TC, vol. 3, 191–208). This is likely the first Korean commentary on the Four Books of classical Confucianism (the Analects, Mencius, Great Learning, and Doctrine of the Mean), all of which T’oegye frequently quotes in his major essays and letters. This commentary is unique in that it is written in scholarly Chinese as well as sixteenthcentury Korean script, which makes it readable by non-scholars, including young students. Among T’oegye’s other important works are some that are not dated. For example, Samgyŏng sŏgŭi (An interpretation of the Three Classics) (TC, vol. 5, 27–168) is a special collection of his commentaries on the Book of Poetry, Book of History, and Book of Changes. T’oegye wrote this commentary in the same contemporary form of Korean language, and thus probably around the same time as the date of the compilation of the Sasŏ sŏgŭi. Another undated example is Sim mu ch’eyong pyŏn (Critique on the saying “the mind does not have substance and function”) (TC 41:16b–19a; vol. 2, 328–330). This essay articulates the Cheng-Zhu thesis that the mind unites i and ki: human nature is the principle (i) of the mind, while feelings are the function of the mind. One more undated yet important essay is Pi iki wi ilmul pyŏnjŭng (Treatise on the saying that “i and ki are not one”) (TC 40:21b; vol. 2, 330). In this essay, T’oegye discusses Zhu Xi’s philosophy of i and ki, but the Korean thinker makes the strict conceptual and moral distinction between i and ki more explicitly than did Zhu Xi.50 At this point, we also need to consider T’oegye’s historic encounters with leading junior colleagues for what they tell us about his life as a thinker-scholar, teacher, colleague, mentor, and friend. Indeed, many letters in the Chasŏngnok reveal his wise character through examples of his scholarly interactions. For example, one major event was the previously mentioned Four-



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Seven debate,51 which took place through correspondence between T’oegye and Ki Kobong from early 1559 to late 1566. Of special importance here is that T’oegye’s Four-Seven thesis is a great source for understanding not only the intellectual but also the personal and ethical quality of his character. In Chosŏn Korean politics, some younger officials openly criticized their superiors in pursuit of factional aims or struggles for political power. Before T’oegye’s time, however, there had been no established tradition in Korea of free scholarly debate between master and disciple, or between senior and junior scholar. It was for the most part difficult psychologically and culturally for a young disciple to engage in a formal, free debate with his famous master; similarly, a junior scholar would not openly criticize a senior scholar of high national repute. T’oegye’s debate with his junior colleague Kobong, then, definitely broke with this tradition for the first time in Korean intellectual history. T’oegye was almost sixty years old and the most respected scholar of the day, not only having served as headmaster of the Royal Confucian College seven years previously but also having resigned from or declined many high-ranking government positions. Kobong, on the other hand, was a young thirty-two-year-old scholar who had just begun his official career. In his typical self-effacing manner and as a warm-hearted friend, T’oegye welcomed Kobong’s challenge and accepted his criticism. He could have followed tradition by simply rejecting or ignoring Kobong’s challenge, but instead he often praised the young challenger’s ideas and did not hesitate to revise his own views when he discovered their shortcomings. T’oegye’s modesty in seeking the truth, warm-hearted politeness, and caring mentorship evidenced in the debate quickly stimulated the rather quiet academic environment of the time in Korea, thereby giving rise to a unique philosophical development of open debate in the history of Korean Confucian thought. In connection to his Four-Seven debate letters to Ki Kobong, T’oegye also wrote a letter to his junior colleague expressing his respect for the latter’s brilliant thinking and its future potential. You have a brilliant spirit as well as a great talent. Even though you have not yet begun an official career, your name is already well known locally and nationally. Now that you are finally about to pursue [a career], everyone in the country is interested in you. . . . Therefore, my advice to you is this: Before serving the world, you should have [already] made your decision to concentrate solely on study in order to arrive at the Way (Dao). Through this approach, then, you could become the person who establishes the flagship pennant of our generation

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In another letter to Ki Kobong in 1558, the final one in the collection, T’oegye also writes: As I reflect further. . . . I am a shallow-minded and very clumsy man who has been stuck with lifelong illness. So if I engage in civil service, I get blamed for wasting a government salary and holding an official position; and if I retreat from it, I’m rebuked for neglecting public responsibility and causing embarrassment. I’m now weak and aging to the ­extent that my mind and eyes have become blurry, and my body looks like a dried, shrunken wisteria tree, so I do not seem to belong to any group of people. Since time is already gone, it is not possible to recover the past, even though [I might] wish that “If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die in the evening” [Analects 4:8]. (Chasŏngnok 22)

T’oegye’s reference to his lifelong illness in these quoted passages, while characteristic of his dignity and self-effacing character, did not prevent him from continuously working on his self-cultivation, as he quoted Confucius’ saying about “hearing the Way” (Analects 4:8). This aspect of T’oegye’s genuine mentorship is deeply rooted and manifested in most of his letters to his disciples and junior colleagues. A meeting in 1558 between T’oegye and Yi Yulgok at the former’s academy as well as their subsequent correspondence further illustrates the old master’s style of mentorship. When T’oegye was fifty-eight years old, Yi Yulgok, a twenty-two-year-old colleague, came to the former’s hometown to pay a courtesy visit to the Chosŏn dynasty’s leading scholar. This was coincidentally the same year in which T’oegye compiled and published his great works, including the Chujasŏ chŏryŏ, and wrote his brief introduction to the Chasŏngnok. In that same year he was about to embark on another great work, the Songgye Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok. Yulgok, a brilliant young scholar, stayed with the old master for a couple of days and composed poems and exchanged ideas and questions on learning. After his visit to T’oegye, Yulgok, deeply impressed with the former’s character and scholarship, felt more confidence in his own scholarship. In his reply to a letter from Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14), T’oegye praised the younger scholar’s “exceptional talent” and great potential. At the same time, however, T’oegye expressed serious concern about the former’s previous study of Buddhism as well as his lack of moral self-cultivation, even though he admired Yulgok’s rectification of his early mistaken study of



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Zen and Huayan scriptures and decision to finally accept Neo-Confucianism. T’oegye also politely admonished Yulgok to avoid the common problem among scholars and students of obsessing over using their studies to pass civil service examinations and seeking “selfish personal gains” (for example, fame or official status). As he wrote to Yulgok, During the beginning of learning, one does not comprehend principles truly, as one often neglects to hold fast to reverence; this, too, is a common flaw among many scholars. People like Hwang [me] not only failed the beginning of learning but also always worried about the worthless passing of their lifetime despite the fact that their grey hair had become greyer. . . . Even if they [some scholars] attained higher honors [in government], they have fallen into the danger of taking selfish personal profits. (Chasŏngnok 14)

Note that T’oegye refers to himself here as Hwang, his private name, as he often did in communicating to his disciples, as an act of humility. This manner of modest collegiality appears in many of his letters in the Chasŏngnok.52 T’oegye often emphasized in a caring and encouraging way that Confucian followers should relinquish the desire to attain “quick” success by passing government service examinations for selfish gain. For example, his letter to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 1) points out that true learning must include patient and sincere personal cultivation. His letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13) articulates the same point: the persistent problem among Confucian scholars is a “manipulated” shortcut approach to learning with a selfish desire to succeed quickly. Master T’oegye repeatedly admonished his disciples and junior colleagues that the Confucian way demands profound self-cultivation with reverential virtues, advice that reveals his inspiring scholarship, collegial mentorship, and pedagogical wisdom. The Chasŏngnok embodies this vital theme of T’oegye’s life and thought, as we will explore in more detail in the following section.

The Chasŏngnok and the Heart of T’oegye’s Thought In this section of the introduction, I will present the essentials of T’oegye’s thought according to the Chasŏngnok as follows: principle (i/li); human nature and emotions; heaven’s principle and selfish desires; the critique of Buddhism and Daoism; true learning; self-cultivation; reverence (kyŏng/ ching; also mindfulness or reverential virtue/seriousness) and spiritual

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cultivation. Each letter in the Chasŏngnok offers personal or scholarly advice to a disciple or colleague and may address any combination of these aspects of his thought. Let us first look at how the Chasŏngnok expresses T’oegye’s philosophy of principle, which embodies a strong belief in original human truth and goodness and which influenced his scholarship and self-cultivation. T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle This topic is presented in T’oegye’s letters especially to his disciples such as Nam Sibo, Chŏng Chajung, and Hwang Chunggŏ, and to his junior colleague Ki Kobong. T’oegye often discussed the Neo-Confucian idea of principle by articulating Zhu Xi’s philosophy of i (li) and ki (qi). In short, i means the “ground of being” present in each thing in its fullness; it is the ultimate and omnipresent principle of all things in full goodness and truth. In relation to human nature and feelings, i also represents the original human nature that is purely good. By contrast, ki/qi refers to the “material force” or vital energy that actually brings each phenomenon into concrete existence and also determines its transformation, which may lead to either good or evil. In relation to human nature and feelings, qi represents physical dispositions and psychological matters as well. In the second letter to his disciple Nam Sibo, T’oegye writes, Generally speaking, principle (i/li) pervades our daily lives. This is absolutely true whether moving or stopping, talking or being silent, or whether dealing with phenomena or moral human relationships, or also regarding daily affairs, obvious places, or refined details. When principle is manifested, it is near to our eyes; when it exists in subtle places, it is formless. (Chasŏngnok 2)

T’oegye acknowledged that it is “not easy to truly understand the meaning of the word i/li ” because it must be put into the daily practice of personal cultivation. According to his letter to Chŏng Chajung and Ki Kobong, principle is metaphysical and exists before concrete things and phenomena. Before there is the relationship between the ruler and the minister, there is the principle of that relationship. Before there is the relationship between the father and the son, there is the principle. It is not that originally there is no such principle and that only after there are such relationships is the principle put into them.53 (Chasŏngnok 19)



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T’oegye’s view is confirmed by Zhu Xi’s saying that “Before the existence of things and phenomena, this principle (i/li) is already present. It is just due to the principle that we deal with them, however momentarily.”54 In his second letter to Chŏng Chajung, T’oegye also explained principle as follows: When tranquil, it [principle] is entirely complete in itself and becomes one foundation, so it originally has no distinction between being in the mind and being in things. When active it responds to phenomena; in interacting with things, it remains the principle of all things and phenomena as well as the principle of my mind-and-heart. This just means that the mind-and-heart as the master [of the self] properly acts according to certain rules. (Chasŏngnok 5)

T’oegye is referring here to the Song Neo-Confucian philosophy of human nature and principle, which is a key topic in his interpretation of Zhu Xi’s philosophy;55 the next section will focus on this topic. The same letter to Chŏng Chajung explains that the meaning of “one principle,” whether existing in the mind or in things, does not imply “two kinds [of principle].” Otherwise, as he told Chŏng, We still do not have any illuminating understanding of “one foundation and ten thousand manifestations” (ilbon mansu/yiben wanshu). This is why I have previously indicated to you every time that it is indeed difficult to understand the term i. (Chasŏngnok 5)

T’oegye certainly meant that the “oneness of principle” and the phrase “many manifestations” imply principle’s diverse manifestations in phenomena, which also confirmed the Song Neo-Confucian doctrine on “one principle and many manifestations” (iil punsu/liyi fenshu): principle is one and universal, but its manifestations are diverse in concrete things. Zhu Xi also developed this doctrine in relation to human nature, feelings, and self-cultivation on the basis of early Song thinkers, including Zhou Dunyi (Master Lianxi, 1017–1073), the Cheng brothers (Cheng Hao [Master Mingdao, 1032–1085] and Cheng Yi [Master Yichuan, 1033–1107]), and Li Tong (Yangping [literary name], 1093–1163). T’oegye elaborated on this part of Zhu Xi’s thought in a similar manner.56 T’oegye’s Four-Seven letter to Ki Kobong also presents a somewhat dualistic philosophy of i and ki as follows: Surely, there is no i without ki; there is no ki without i.57 However, if [as you said] what is spoken thereafter is not the same, then we cannot but

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Overall, T’oegye’s philosophical language emphasizes the absolute distinction between i and ki. For this reason, “the original goodness of human nature” (sŏngsŏn chi sŏng/xingshan zhi xing) mentioned in the Mencius (2A:6 and 6A:6) represents “the fundamental essence of i . . . [which] is not combined with ki”: “His [Mencius’] point of reference is i, not ki.” As T’oegye wrote to Ki Kobong, After carefully pondering your letter, I think that you have deeply realized that i and ki depend on each other and are inseparable from each other, strongly advocating the point that “there is no ki without i, and no i without ki. . . .” This seems somewhat correct, but it also reveals some “shortcoming and discrepancy” if we consider it with respect to the teaching of sages and worthies. (Chasŏngnok, 18)

T’oegye likely used Zhu Xi’s key statement about the mutual inseparability of i and ki in concrete phenomena,58 but he also chose to emphasize the conceptual and moral distinction between the two; in other words, each of i and ki is “an entity in itself” in accordance with Zhu Xi’s original saying.59 This is why he criticized Kobong for going too far in stressing the inseparability of i and ki. In discussing i and ki in his second letter to Hwang Chunggŏ (1517– 1563),60 T’oegye also noted, “If what is being pointed to is not identical, the intended meaning of language use is also not identical; therefore, we cannot speak of one thing as combined merely because its meaning is identical” (Chasŏngnok, 16). As his Four-Seven letter to Ki Kobong also states, Your discussion generalizes i and ki as combined. In considering good and evil in this context, [it follows that] you insist that it is entirely impossible to discuss them as distinct. . . . In the concluding part of your letter, however, you also consider that the natural manifestation of ki is what the original essence of i does. This ultimately seems to take i and ki to be one thing with nothing separating them [from each other]. (Chasŏngnok 18)

In the original version of this Four-Seven letter,61 T’oegye criticized Kobong’s interpretation of i and ki as no different from Luo Qinshun’s monis-



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tic thought as expressed in his Kunzhi ji (Knowledge painfully acquired).62 Luo was the most prominent scholar of the Cheng-Zhu school in Ming China. In T’oegye’s view, Kobong followed Luo but made what T’oegye called a “serious mistake” in over-emphasizing “the oneness of i and ki”; in other words, Kobong’s reasoning was highly reminiscent of Lo’s monistic interpretation of i and ki. In the revised Four-Seven letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye therefore continued to advise his young challenger: If you really insist that nothing is separable because they [i and ki] are one thing, then I’m afraid to claim that I know this subject matter. I had thought that they are not one thing [inseparable] and therefore distinguishable. . . . What difficulty still causes you to insist that [my statement] “what is spoken of” as separate and distinguishable in the diagram is wrong? (Chasŏngnok 18)

Kobong wanted to address only “the oneness of two things in the discussion of learning.” According to T’oegye, then, this approach was criticized by ancient people for acting like “a hawk swallowing whole jujubes [i.e., without knowing their taste]”; it created “the defect of discussing human nature in terms of ki.” T’oegye advised Ki Kobong further: Distinguishing two things [namely, i and ki, or the Four and the Seven] from each other must not harm their inevitable inseparability; uniting them into one must actually arrive at the discovery that they cannot be mixed together. In this way, we will understand things broadly rather than being one-sided. (Chasŏngnok 18)

T’oegye’s way of reasoning is generally speaking a “dualistic” interpretation revealing a strong commitment to the distinctiveness between i and ki. We therefore should clearly understand the difference as well as its significant implication for self-cultivation. Overall, his interpretation emphasizes the transcendent, virtuous reality of i (always pure and good) over the physical, emotional, and material world of ki (good or evil depending on whether it is properly controlled). Regarding the universal “oneness” of principle, T’oegye, like Zhu Xi,63 called for the realization of it in personal cultivation. Unlike Zhu, however, T’oegye explicitly affirmed the “self-manifesting” capability of i in such a practice, which enabled T’oegye to develop what Tu (1985b) called a “creative reinterpretation of li (principle).” T’oegye’s moral reasoning therefore points to “a philosophy of principle.”

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T’oegye, Korea’s leading Confucian thinker, emphasized his controversial yet innovative view that i has its own self-dynamic nature in such concrete phenomena as our moral virtues and feelings; as he said, “If i cannot act by itself, there is something wrong with our mind, implying that we cannot speak of the self-manifesting nature of i.”64 As I discuss elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 2004), T’oegye emphasized the primary role of principle in both cosmic transformation and the process of personal cultivation.65 In the following section I discuss this topic further in connection with Neo-Confucian ethics. T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions: Heaven’s Principle and Selfish Desires In the Chasŏngnok T’oegye presents his views on human nature and emotions in terms of i and ki, the mind, the Four Beginnings of Virtue and the Seven Emotions, and also in terms of good and evil. In his Four-Seven letter to Ki Kobong T’oegye presents the Neo-Confucian moral and psychological philosophy of human nature and emotions. For example, he says, Even if we are referring to one single word “human nature” (sŏng/xing), it is what Zisi in the Doctrine of the Mean meant by “human nature endowed by Heaven” (ch’ŏnmyŏng chi sŏng/tianming zhi xing) and what Mencius called “the original goodness of human nature” (sŏngsŏn chi sŏng/xingshan zhi xing). (Chasŏngnok 18)

What T’oegye had in mind was the opening paragraph of the Doctrine of the Mean66 and “the original goodness of human nature” in the Mencius (2A:6 and 6A:6).67 He was referring to “the fundamental essence of i that is separate from ki”; therefore, “the point of reference in these classics was i, not ki, so we can describe it in terms of pure goodness without any evil. Otherwise, we are not talking about the original essence of human nature (sŏng chi pon’yŏn/xing zhi benran)” (Chasŏngnok 18). For T’oegye, then, what Zisi and Mencius meant is “original human nature” (pon’yŏn chi sŏng/benran zhi xing) in its pure sense; that is, human nature-in-itself that is unmixed with physical dispositions. They therefore referred to the “original” human goodness before the individual’s mind is disturbed by physical or external stimuli involving ki. This point may also be supported by T’oegye’s fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8), where he emphasized that self-cultivation requires everyone to understand principle as the true nature of human existence. In the same Four-Seven letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 18), T’oegye



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also points out that the Cheng brothers, Zhang Zai, and other Neo-Confucians discussed “physical human nature” (kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing) as the human nature that is stimulated by the ki in concrete phenomena. This dual point is illustrated in the third diagrammatic essay on the Four and the Seven in T’oegye’s famous Sŏnghak sipto.68 T’oegye, like Zhu Xi, explained the original human nature with respect to i (purely good), and the physical human nature as that which is conditioned by ki (involving either good or evil).69 Since human nature is understood in terms of its two “names”— “original” and “physical”—feelings may also be discussed in terms of their two group names: “the Four and the Seven.” The Four are the Four Beginnings of Virtue—namely, commiseration, shame and dislike, courtesy and modesty, and discernment of right and wrong—and pertain to the original human nature; the Seven, denoting the Seven Emotions—pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire—are associated with the physical human nature because “they become active as external things come into contact with physical form.” T’oegye’s position basically follows Zhu Xi’s view that the original human nature is the perfectly good state before the arousal of feelings, whereas the physical human nature is the actual state involving either good or evil after the feelings are aroused. In the same letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 18), T’oegye also ad­ dresses the Neo-Confucian ethics of good and evil. He maintains there that the Four and the Seven, like i and ki, should be clearly distinguished from each other. By pointing out the convergence as well as the divergence of the Four and the Seven, T’oegye argues that Kobong is mistaken in asserting that they do not have different origins and meanings. As T’oegye says, “What is spoken of” in the case of the Four “refers principally to i” because the Four should be understood as the inborn moral qualities or seeds of goodness; therefore, the Four are always pure and good. The arousal of the Seven “includes both i and ki,” but “what is spoken of” in the case of the Seven refers to ki because they are basic feelings that arise from “external influence.” Accordingly, the Seven are understood as our physical and psychological states; in other words, “the Seven Emotions can easily become evil” if they are not controlled properly. For T’oegye, then, the Four and the Seven are different in both ontological and conceptual contexts. From a perspective of self-cultivation, he intended to emphasize a moral nourishment of the Four and a measure of emotional control over the Seven. This is how he interpreted good and evil in terms of i and ki and the Four and the Seven. Furthermore, his fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8) also makes a consistent point that the evil tendency of one’s “inborn ki” does not represent “the original essence of human nature”; he quotes the Song master Cheng Hao (Mingdao,

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1032–1085) in addressing good and evil in terms of physical nature (conditioned by “inborn ki”), the water analogy, and self-cultivation.70 Like Zhu Xi, T’oegye uses Cheng’s analogy of “the clarity and turbidity of water,” according to which “the original goodness of human nature is like the original clarity of water.”71 T’oegye also discusses the same topic in terms of the so-called learning of the mind-and-heart (simhak/xinxue).72 According to his letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13), “the mind is the master [of the self]” that “firmly remains at the center of numerous phenomena,” and “its inner workings are revealed through dealing with the phenomena.” “The mind in itself is empty and illuminating,” which implies T’oegye’s view that the original mind (or the mind’s original substance) “before the arousal of feelings” is “empty and illuminating,” so it is purely good. T’oegye makes the same point also in his fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8) by discussing the simhak.73 This concurs with Zhu Xi’s teaching that “the mind in itself (substance of the mind)” before the arousal of feelings is “absolutely quiet and inactive.”74 T’oegye basically meant the simhak as an essential way of self-cultivation. He articulated it in his other works, such as the Four-Seven letters and Sŏnghak sipto.75 As I have discussed elsewhere,76 T’oegye’s serious interest in emphasizing the simhak as an essential part of Confucian learning is revealed through his lifelong practice of quiet sitting contemplation and mind cultivation. The fundamental vocabulary of T’oegye’s Four-Seven ethics suggests a kind of “dualistic” interpretation. One should clearly understand the fundamental difference between the Four and the Seven in terms of good and evil. As T’oegye emphasized, this ultimately has a profound implication for self-cultivation. His letter to Ki Kobong criticizes Kobong and concludes as follows: You also say that there is nothing that distinguishes the Four Beginnings and Seven Emotions. This is almost contradicting yourself, isn’t it? . . . The flaw in this approach is not trivial at all because if the person who does not stop [acting in this way], does not see it, will not realize it, and will then immediately get stuck with the defect of discussing human nature in terms of ki. As a result, that person will fall into the serious trouble of misunderstanding [selfish] human desires (inyok/renyu) as heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli). How can this be allowed to occur! (Chasŏngnok 18)

Here T’oegye politely warns Kobong that if he (or anyone else) does not clearly distinguish i from ki, as well as the Four from the Seven, in an



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ontological and moral context, the unfortunate consequence will be to misidentify innate moral qualities manifested from heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli; representing i) with the selfish “human cravings” that are stimulated by ki and can easily become evil due to external influence.77 His second letter to Hwang Chunggŏ (1517–1563) (Chasŏngnok, 16) makes the same point. The final section of this introduction presents this topic in detail. Heaven’s principle and human cravings are frequently discussed in T’oegye’s other leading works such as the Sŏnghak sipto and Four-Seven letters. This topic was first mentioned by Chinese Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi and his late-Song follower Zhen Dexiu.78 In his Sŏnghak sipto, for example, T’oegye avers that the key to self-cultivation is to “preserve heaven’s principle” (chon ch’ŏlli/cun tianli) in daily practice.79 T’oegye emphasized his belief in the moral transcendence of heaven’s principle, and this is indeed a key topic in his philosophy and spirituality, which I discuss further in the final section below.80 Against Buddhism and Daoism T’oegye’s criticism of Buddhism and Daoism appears in his letters to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8), Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13), Yi Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14), Hwang Chunggŏ (Chasŏngnok 15), and Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 17). T’oegye wrote a reply letter to his junior colleague Yi Yulgok81 after the latter made a courtesy visit to the former for a scholarly talk. I previously heard from other people that you had studied certain Buddhist scriptures and became mistakenly obsessed with them. It has been a while since I received this heartbreaking news. When you last came to see me, you, too, told me about it and confidently acknowledged your mistake without hiding any truth. Having read the same story as confirmed in your second letter, I understand that you can now move forward with the [Confucian] Way. (Chasŏngnok 14)

T’oegye refers here to Yulgok’s initial shortcoming in learning due to his previous study of Buddhism (Zen and Huayan sutras). T’oegye encouraged Yulgok’s talent and scholarship, but he was compelled to criticize the latter’s study of Buddhism, a mistake that Yulgok subsequently rectified. As T’oegye wrote, There are moreover those scholars who were right at the beginning but eventually became wicked; there are those centrists who said that both

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It is not surprising for T’oegye to point out that even great Song NeoConfucians such as Cheng Hao and Zhu Xi were initially attracted to Buddhist or Daoist studies or that they all ended up criticizing Buddhism and Daoism by defending the Confucian way and its implications for learning and social-political ethics. Although T’oegye himself was not well versed in Buddhism, he enthusiastically articulated Confucian orthodoxy by condemning the Buddhist and Daoist teachings.83 In his first letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye emphasizes the doctrine of single-minded concentration for self-cultivation, thereby criticizing Buddhism for deviating from the Confucian way. He writes, for example, Effort at single-minded concentration penetrates both action and tranquility, and the realm of being cautious and apprehensive only belongs to the unmanifested state. So neither one should be ignored, but nourishing the internal by means of controlling the external is essential and urgent. Accordingly . . . this also means the daily self-cultivation of the great origin. If people do not truly do this daily (moral) practice so and only focus on the study of the mind, then hardly any of them will avoid falling into Śākyamuni Buddha’s views. What do you think? (Chasŏngnok 17)

As in other of his letters and essays, T’oegye is here criticizing the Buddha’s teaching of mind concentration. Because it ignores learning, the Buddhist doctrine of annihilation and nirvana is rejected as “false” or “useless.” In his (first) letter to Hwang Chunggŏ, T’oegye also criticized Daoism by presenting Confucian learning as the true way that starts “from a low level in order to reach a high level” and develops gradually. This is why Confucian learning is different from the schools of Śākyamuni [Buddha] and Laozi, both of which lead students to work



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toward suddenly reaching the highest [attainment of spiritual development] without even putting a single footstep on [the path] and also commit them to embark on a long journey without any beginning at all. How can there ever be such a theory in the world? (Chasŏngnok 15)

Here, as in other letters, T’oegye’s criticizes the Buddha’s teaching for neglecting the daily study and practice of principles. For him, the Confucian way of learning begins with the self because it “reflects on things near at hand.” The Korean master also opposed the Daoist teaching of non-action (wuwei) especially by condemning Zhuangzi. His letter to Kim Tonsŏ addresses the problem of Daoism as follows: “Wishing to stop thinking is closer to [the Daoist method of] ‘forgetting in sitting’ (chwamang/ zuowang).”84 As you know, Daoist groups such as Zhuangzi’s followers and Liezi’s followers85 simply dislike dealing with phenomena and only know how to seek tranquility. They therefore wish only to reach the ultimate level of the Way (Dao) by falling into “forgetting in sitting.” Not only do they not understand that the mind penetrates through movement and tranquility thereby embracing things and phenomena, but they also intend to deliberately forget it. The more this is so, the more chaotic and defective their minds will become. As they attempt to cut their minds off, they wander onto a wicked and imprudent path and then rush to a vast realm. Hence, “forgetting in sitting” is identical to “sitting and [the mind] running away” (chwach’i); isn’t this right? (Chasŏngnok 13)

In this quotation, it is clear that T’oegye is following Cheng Yi’s (1033– 1107) critique of Zhuangzi’s practice of “forgetting in sitting.” T’oegye paraphrases Cheng Yi here by means of a Neo-Confucian critique of the Daoist teaching of zuowang (K. chwamang; forgetting or having no thoughts), namely, the ideal of non-action and naturalness that appears in the sixth chapter of the Zhuangzi.86 In short, it is not surprising for T’oegye to be critical of the Daoist way here. He concludes his letter to Kim Tonsŏ by advising him to be mindful of the false teaching of Daoism and Buddhism. The objective of your effort deviates from the words and actions of [Confucian] sages and wise men. . . . If you cannot develop yourself from the great foundation of learning . . . you will unfortunately turn to the method of Śākyamuni [Buddhism] or Laozi [Daoism]. (Chasŏngnok 13)

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T’oegye also expresses his opposition of Buddhism and Daoism in his fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung.87 He strongly defends Cheng-Zhu NeoConfucianism by harshly condemning Daoist and Buddhist doctrines, including Zhuang’s teaching of zuowang. In many of his letters and major essays, T’oegye criticized the Buddhist and Daoist teachings of mind concentration for neglecting daily learning and self-cultivation. This scholarly commitment is consistent with T’oegye’s harsh criticism of the leading Ming Neo-Confucian, Wang Yangming, in connection to Zen, as, for example, in T’oegye’s Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn, a major systematic critique of Wang’s thought.88 As already noted above, he criticized Wang’s philosophy for being “no different from Zen” because it entirely ignored the study of principles and because Wang failed to understand the Cheng-Zhu doctrine on the investigation of things so that “he spoke of the mind only, betraying the teachings of the sages and worthies.”89 T’oegye’s other major essay against Wang is the Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭmnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu.90 In a similar way, he defended Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy by condemning Wang’s philosophy and Chen Xianzhang’s individualistic thought, both of which are “generally Zen Buddhist in nature” according to T’oegye.91 T’oegye’s mode of thinking was deeply rooted in articulating ChengZhu thought and enhancing its way of learning, a topic discussed further in the following sections. True Learning True learning is a topic that comes up frequently in the Chasŏngnok. In his letters to his disciples and junior colleagues, including Nam Sibo, Chŏng Chajung, Kwŏn Homun, Kim Tonsŏ, Yi Yulgok, and Ki Kobong, T’oegye emphasized long-term practice of consistency, seriousness, and integrity in the way of learning and self-cultivation. His first letter to Ki Kobong provides a personal confession that reveals his character as well as his full dedication to learning. I dedicated myself to learning from an early age, but I unfortunately received no guidance from any teacher or friend, and my physical illness had already worsened. So I faced all this. If I had definitely decided to withdraw to a mountain forest, built a small study hut there at a quiet location in order to read books and cultivate my goal and tried harder for thirty some years to seek what I have not reached, then my illness could have been cured and my scholarship would surely have advanced farther. . . . In retrospect, [I see that] I could not renounce the world and



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[instead] engaged in seeking an official public position after writing the civil service examinations. (Chasŏngnok 17)

In this letter, T’oegye also expressed his own experience of frustration with government work, writing that the common “defect of seeking empty, selfish fame has become much more serious and . . . more dangerous.” His letter to Yi Yulgok also mentions a similar concern about the problem: “When scholars have not yet advanced to the higher honors of learning, many of them are seized by the government examination system. Even if they arrived at the higher honors, they have fallen into the danger of taking selfish personal profits” (Chasŏngnok 14). In his first letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye similarly tells the younger scholar, Those whose scholarship is not established nevertheless praise themselves too highly and try to become heroic about governing the state without carefully considering if the time is right. This path will result in failure and should be regarded with caution by anyone with a great name and important work. (Chasŏngnok 17)

Taking into account Chosŏn Korea’s situation at the time, T’oegye in the same letter advises Kobong “not to display yourself too highly; not to become suddenly courageous about governing the state; and not to argue for your own opinions excessively in dealing with all matters.” T’oegye’s fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7) states that Confucian learning requires consistent and sincere efforts over a long period of time so that one can become “pure and masterful.” As a result, one’s mind-and-heart will become united with the principles of things to the extent that he “will not face any trouble with mind control.” T’oegye’s recommendation is therefore the daily practice of “holding onto the mind-and-heart” without rushing to take a shortcut. In his fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung, T’oegye also advises him to “remain watchful about the cautionary saying that ‘advancing too quickly causes a quick retreating.’ ” Do not give up your good effort. Practice it for a long period of time and then its quality becomes transformed, the virtue of human-heartedness becomes fruitful, and you will experience a vast joy throughout your entire life. However, what I also worry about is that when you rush [to achieve quick success], you may end up with no accomplishment. (Chasŏngnok 8)

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In his first letter to Hwang Chunggŏ, T’oegye points out, Beginning from the low [level] or from the near basically seems to be slower and more time-consuming and [involves] long and twisted roads. However, if we reject this path, how can we ever reach the high or the far? One works hard to progress gradually in order to accomplish reaching a high level or a far site. (Chasŏngnok 15)

As Confucius said, learning begins from the “low level” of engaging with oneself in interaction with daily things and phenomena while “reflecting on things near at hand.” In this regard, T’oegye therefore discussed the “investigation of principles” (kungni/qiongli), one of the key doctrines in the Cheng-Zhu school. Its locus classicus is the opening section of the Great Learning, and Zhu Xi articulated this well-known doctrine extensively.92 In his first letter to Nam Sibo, written in 1556, T’oegye points out that worrying about the way of learning is usually “caused by not being thoroughly careful with principles or by analyzing the principles in a futile manner while seeking them thoughtlessly” (Chasŏngnok 1). The same letter also criticizes Nam Sibo for being arrogant with a tendency to rush in his investigation of principles. This is what generated the root of your [learning] flaw. . . . How can we fail to worry about it at all? I understand that you already know a remedy to cure it: First and most of all, your thinking should transcend ordinary worldly things such as hardship and mastery, the gained and the lost, honor and dishonor, benefit and harm, and so on, and then ensure that the illuminating mind is not hampered by [any of] these. (Chasŏngnok 1)

T’oegye’s point is that the common defect of learning is due to “taking a shortcut” to learning or “manipulating” self-cultivation. In his second letter to Nam Sibo, therefore, T’oegye advises Nam as follows: Generally speaking, principle pervades our daily living. . . . The beginners of our learning want to throw away this truth and suddenly engage with very deep and great things, thereby taking a shortcut approach to quick success. . . . How can we ever do that? . . . As Yanping [1093–1163] said, the principle of the Way is to be cultivated in daily life. What a wonderful teaching, indeed! (Chasŏngnok 2)



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T’oegye often mentioned Zhu Xi’s teacher, Li Tong (literary name Yanping), because he liked Li’s philosophy of mind cultivation, as can be seen in his other letters and essays.93 His first letter to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 1) addresses the investigation of principles further. One who “maintains good efforts for a long time,” T’oegye writes, will understand things and acquire their principles naturally. T’oegye reminds Nam that in order to transcend the common defect of learning, followers of true learning should not “seek a quick result.” T’oegye’s letter to his disciple Kwŏn Homun (Chasŏngnok 12) confirms the same concern: “You must first remove all bad habits such as sluggish searching, pondering, and manipulating” that are based on selfish cravings or intentions. T’oegye criticized this kind of flaw in learning (e.g., taking a shortcut) and frequently advised his disciples and junior colleagues that maintaining self-cultivation was a “lifelong endeavor.” I will return to this topic in the final two sections of my introduction. In his letter to Yi Yulgok, T’oegye advises this leading junior scholar as follows: Empty your mind [of distracting thoughts] and explore the principles of things; do not concentrate on your personal opinions first. Build on your learning progressively and let it mature purely. Do not expect any quick result in a few days or months, and do not quit without any achievement. You must dedicate yourself to a lifelong endeavor. . . . This work is naturally achieved after advancing it all deeply to the end. (Chasŏngnok 14)

For T’oegye, this achievement is decidedly not an immediate “awakening of the self for the first time,” like an “ecstatic feeling of becoming a buddha.” T’oegye’s eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung states: Learning is not something that can be reached in one footstep. . . . This learning is certainly the work of a lifetime; therefore, even if one reaches the level of [wisdom attained by] Yanzi [Master Yan] and Zengzi [Master Zeng],94 one cannot dare say that one has finished it completely. (Chasŏngnok 11, par. 3)

It is important to note that T’oegye mentions Confucius’ beloved disciples Yan Yuan (also known as Yanzi) and Zengzi (given name Shen) as two great role models for Confucian learning. Theirs is an example of the vital need to be dedicated and patient, making a real moral effort over the

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long term rather than hoping to find a fast track to self-cultivation. For T’oegye, the Confucian way requires daily self-cultivation. Self-Cultivation Self-cultivation is a key topic often discussed in T’oegye’s correspondence with many disciples and junior colleagues, especially Nam Sibo, Chŏng Chajung, Kim Tonsŏ, Yi Yulgok, Hwang Chunggŏ, and Ki Kobong. As we have already seen, T’oegye saw the Confucian way of learning and selfcultivation as a lifelong endeavor and emphasized diligence, consistency, seriousness, and integrity in its practice. T’oegye’s fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung addresses this point in detail as follows: The way to practice it [self-cultivation] is certainly what Yanzi meant [according to Confucius ]: Do not look, listen, speak, and move “when it is not in accordance with propriety (li; ritual)” [Analects 12:1]. Similarly, “whenever moving the body . . . , rectifying the facial expression . . . , or speaking properly . . . ,” give your full effort as Zengzi did. If done in this way, your efforts will be easily fulfilled because they are well grounded. After accomplishing it [self-cultivation] through true hard work for a long time, we may understand or discuss the saying that “[Yan Yuan] did not deviate from human-heartedness (ren) for three months” or “one single thread binding.” However, the letter I received from you does not correspond to these kinds of teachings. (Chasŏngnok 7, par. 3)

In this letter, T’oegye articulates his deep understanding of self-cultivation in his reference to Confucius’ teaching to Yan Yuan, likely quoting it to emphasize the practice of human-heartedness through propriety.95 In mentioning Zengzi in connection to proper personal and moral conduct, T’oegye is also referring to its related teaching about “three things” (nonviolence, integrity, and proper speech).96 This kind of diligence confirms why Confucius praised Yan Yuan’s practice of human-heartedness without breaking it “for three months” (Analects 6:5). As T’oegye puts it, the “one single thread” of Confucius’ teaching is the daily practice of “loyalty and reciprocity” (Analects 4:15).97 So the task is to make real effort with patience and dedication for a long period of time. In his eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11), T’oegye points out that one should avoid being an inferior person by transforming oneself into a “self-cultivated person” (kunja/junzi). Here T’oegye’s idea definitely concurs with Confucius’ classical teaching about



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discerning righteousness and selfish profit and practicing propriety in daily life (Analects 15:17). His fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7) articulates the same point by mentioning Song Neo-Confucian thinkers. For example, “Cheng Yi also said, ‘Be orderly and dignified’ and ‘be solemn and austere.’98 In this way, the mind-and-heart becomes one [singlemindedness] and then naturally will not go wrong or [become] one-sided” (Chasŏngnok 7). Further emphasizing Cheng’s teaching, T’oegye writes, “If one can cultivate oneself this way for a long time, moral principles will become clear”99 (Chasŏngnok 7). T’oegye also advised Ki Kobong for lacking understanding of certain subtle insights into personal cultivation, even as he praised his philosophical reasoning and scholarly knowledge. In his first letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye therefore says: The way in which it [your scholarship] maintains the mind and regulates actions is mostly right in the informal and liberal context of meaning, but what is lacking is something in the exertion of great effort at the practice of self-cultivation and mind concentration. Accordingly, even though your scholarship is exceptionally excellent at clarifying and discussing [the Four-Seven issues], it occasionally fails to overcome the flaw of agitated inconsistency. (Chasŏngnok 17)

T’oegye’s expression here of his high regard for Ki Kobong is consistent with his willingness to exchange philosophical letters with Kobong during the famous Four-Seven debate,100 a discussion that eventually motivated T’oegye to develop a grand system of ethics and spirituality. Nonetheless, T’oegye advised Kobong and his other disciples and junior colleagues not to “manipulate” self-cultivation by taking a “shortcut path.” Similarly, T’oegye’s first letter to Nam Sibo recommends that Confucian followers drop any selfish craving to attain “quick” success. One’s approach to preserving the mind [in self-cultivation] is dim, so he “pulls up a sprout forcefully in order to help it grow [more quickly].” Consequently, without realizing the self at all, one’s mind becomes weary and causes one’s vital energy to be exhausted, thereby arriving here at this level [of failure]. This, too, is a common flaw among many beginning scholars. (Chasŏngnok 1)

By using the Mencian analogy “pulls up a sprout forcefully,”101 T’oegye meant that self-realization is a process demanding dedication to be pursued without selfish craving for quick success. He claimed the importance

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of discovering this problem early in order to fix it successfully. As Mencius said, “Always be doing without expectation. Let the mind not forget its objective, but let there be no artificial effort to help it to grow.”102 In fact, T’oegye discusses the same point by quoting Mencius in the middle of his letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13): Mencius basically taught that mind cultivation should be a dedicated and consistent path without rushing its effort or pace. From another perspective, T’oegye’s first letter to Nam Sibo encourages mind cultivation in the following words: In your daily life you should minimize the amount of chatting and socializing (literally, “exchanging drinks”); empty the mind by controlling its fondness and cravings; live a pleasant life with spare time; appreciate landscape painting, calligraphy, or flowers; and take pleasure in watching stream fish and mountain birds. In this way you can truly think congenially and not always dislike dealing with things so that your mind’s vital energy (ki/qi) may always remain pure and smooth. Let it not deviate or become disorderly so that you do not resent or get angry. This is the essential method. (Chasŏngnok 1)

In this passage, T’oegye’s appreciation of “landscape painting . . . flowers” and his pleasure “in watching stream fish and mountain birds” clearly illuminate his retirement during his fifties and sixties in order to pursue self-cultivation while living in harmony with nature. This aesthetic and ecological theme is also present in poems that express his love of nature and his spirituality of reverence.103 For example, in 1550 shortly after retiring to his hometown, T’oegye composed a short poem entitled “T’oegye,” after his hometown, in which he likened his deep pleasure with practicing self-reflection to a restless, “flowing stream.”104 Other related poems are about T’oegye’s contemplation of the unifying principle of human existence and the natural world. Such poems reveal that his poetic, aesthetic, and spiritual life and thought were of a piece. T’oegye’s fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7) presents the Neo-Confucian teaching of single-minded concentration; that is, “holding it [the mind] fast and preserving it.” This is about controlling the mindand-heart in self-cultivation: “Confucius said, ‘Hold onto it and it will remain, let go of it and it will disappear. . . .’ It is perhaps to the [mind-and-] heart this refers.”105 Mencius emphasized the doctrine of “preserving the mind and nourishing human nature,” a confirmation of his belief in “the original goodness of human nature.” This Mencian teaching was frequently cited by Neo-Confucians, especially Cheng Yi, Zhu Xi, and T’oegye.106



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In the same letter to Chŏng Chajung, T’oegye states, “According to Cheng Yi, practice is vital in learning, and it works well when you entirely ‘concentrate on one thing’ ” (Chasŏngnok 7). T’oegye gives a further example of the degree to which he was influenced by earlier Confucian masters’ teaching of single-minded concentration and self-control in another reference to Cheng Yi’s instructions. He writes, “If one concentrates on one thing and does not deviate from it and be serious in order to rectify the self internally, he will have a strong moving effort.”107 In Zhu Xi’s formulation, “Concentrating on one thing is similar to holding the will firm,” and “What [Cheng] called rectifying the internal life and concentrating on one thing will naturally need no manipulation.”108 T’oegye’s first letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 17) also points out that former Confucians emphasized “the practice of holding fast the mind and nourishing virtuous nature as the very first thing to be completed.” In order to arrive at the Way, their key method began with “concentrating on one thing [i.e., single-mindedness].” T’oegye therefore confirmed the practice of “being cautious [over that which is unseen] and being apprehensive [over that which is unheard],” which is another key concept originating in the Doctrine of the Mean. As indicated in T’oegye’s letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13), this is also based on the sagely teaching “Remain refined and single-minded: hold fast the Mean.”109 In Chasŏngnok 14, T’oegye points out to Yulgok the junior scholar’s failure to satisfactorily practice self-cultivation with reverential virtues. Even though Yulgok correctly understood the sagely teaching, according to T’oegye, he did not truly “experience its richness by practicing it.” When the senior master says that the investigation of principles and abiding in reverence (kŏgyŏng/jijing) are “the beginning and end of learning,” he is strongly advising Yulgok to take “reverence (kyŏng/jing) as the master of the self” in self-cultivation. Reverence (Kyŏng) and Spiritual Cultivation T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok as well as his biography leave no doubt about the degree to which he emphasized the moral-spiritual dimension of learning in terms of reverence and self-cultivation, a subject that he often addressed in his other major works, including the Four-Seven letters and Sŏnghak sipto. The doctrine of reverence (kyŏng/jing) appears with such frequency in T’oegye’s writings because it is arguably the most important topic in his entire system of ethics and spirituality.110 In the Chinese tradition, this idea embodies several meanings; for example, Zhu Xi taught it as an attitude of reverence toward heaven and earth, as well as seriousness

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in handling daily matters and human relationships. According to the Book of Rites, “The superior person never lacks reverence.”111 Confucius also said, “Be reverent (kyŏng/jing) in handling affairs” (Analects 13:19). Other meanings of kyŏng are “reverential piety,” “mindfulness,” and “moral seriousness.” As discussed in the “Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style” at the beginning of this book, the classical and Neo-Confucian teaching of kyŏng has, in addition to “reverence,” other related renderings, among which are the following: “be reverent/serious,” “reverential virtue/seriousness,” “engaged self-awareness, “(moral-spiritual) respect,” “holistic attentiveness.” T’oegye was convinced that the unifying heart of Confucian life was the daily cultivation and practice of kyŏng, a concept that essentially differentiates Confucianism from Buddhism and Daoism. As discussed above in the section “Against Buddhism and Daoism,” T’oegye criticized the Buddhist and Daoist ways of mind cultivation from a Neo-Confucian standpoint. T’oegye repeatedly emphasizes in his writings that the Confucian learning of sagehood engages with the teaching on reverence. The Chasŏngnok presents it especially in the letters to Chŏng Chajung, Kim Tonsŏ, Yi Yulgok, and Ki Kobong.112 For example, T’oegye says in the concluding paragraph of his letter to Kim Tonsŏ, You are in particular not yet moving forward with truly knowing and practicing the doctrine of “holding fast to reverence” (chigyŏng/qijing). Consequently, the objective of your effort deviates from the words and actions of Confucian sages and wise men. . . . In short, you are not yet firmly committed to moving forward with this practice [holding fast to reverence] on a clear and plain basis. If you cannot develop yourself from the great foundation of learning, it eventually becomes rather difficult to achieve a fruitful result even after a good deal of trivial study. . . . As Master Zhu Xi advised [his disciple] Li Huishu, “Remove your ordinary cavalier manipulation; remove your ordinary cavalier language. Understand the meaning of the sentence ‘Hold onto it and it will remain.’ ” This is obviously a remedy for your problem [of learning and cultivation]. I’ll be happy if you consider it. (Chasŏngnok 13)

Kim in this letter is admonished to cultivate and practice reverence and is reminded not to manipulate his learning in order to gain any quick result. As noted above in the section on “True Learning,” T’oegye advised his disciples and junior colleagues that by seeking a quick result they would eventually fail to cultivate themselves morally. In the same quoted pas-



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sage, T’oegye, like Zhu Xi, cites Confucius’ teaching of controlling the mind, as quoted in the Mencius (6A:8). After criticizing the Daoist teaching of non-action through “forgetting in sitting,” T’oegye reminds Kim Tonsŏ, This is why Master Cheng said: “For entering the Way, there is nothing more than reverence.”113 . . . [Which is] also revealed through the [Mencian] teaching, “Always do without expectation. Never let it out of your mind; make no selfish effort . . .”114 In other words, the sagely method of the mind (simbŏp/xinfa) is like so. (Chasŏngnok 13)

T’oegye basically is referring here to the Cheng-Zhu doctrine of mind cultivation (simhak/xinxue), a key theme in his interpretation of reverence and sagely learning. T’oegye’s letter to Kwŏn Homun also explains the true meaning of teaching to be understood by “preserving the mind through reverence,” a point he liked to discuss in many of his works, including the Chasŏngnok, the Four-Seven letters, and the Sŏnghak sipto.115 In the same letter to Kim Tonsŏ, T’oegye writes, In general, when people study they just have to follow reverence as the master of learning and should not lose it while being active or tranquil, regardless of whether or not they are dealing with daily affairs intentionally. (Chasŏngnok 13)

T’oegye points out that as one thinks, one’s worries are reduced because “heaven’s principle emerges clearly whereas material cravings are withdrawn.” In this way, one will build one’s efforts successfully, making this “a significant method of learning.” T’oegye’s fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7) outlines the same point, which indicates that he was familiar with the way in which Zhu Xi explained reverence by quoting Cheng Yi. It is not necessary to talk much about holding fast to reverence. . . . “Be correct in movement and appearance and be orderly in thinking and deliberating,” and “be proper in your dress and be dignified in your gaze.”116

T’oegye also liked to discuss the cultivation of reverence in terms of “being solemn and austere” and in direct connection to the Cheng masters’ and Zhu Xi’s teaching of single-minded concentration, which I mentioned in the preceding section. As Zhu Xi said, “Reverence (kyŏng/jing) means

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concentrating on one thing, which implies not deviating from it. . . . Otherwise, the mind will become divided.”117 In his letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye is therefore quoting the same teaching given by Zhu Xi and the Cheng masters: “Be reverent to rectify the self internally” (Chasŏngnok 17).118 T’oegye’s letter to Yi Yulgok also made similar points. One takes reverence as the master. . . . If you neglect reverence even for a short period of time . . . , then this will quickly demolish your effort at dealing with things in daily life. So how can we say that only selfish thoughts, eating and sex (literally, “color”), and easy talks may be harmful? During the beginning of learning, one does not comprehend principles truly, as one often neglects to hold fast to reverence; this, too, is a common defect among many scholars. (Chasŏngnok 14)

Concentrating the self on reverence is naturally achieved after “finally developing it deeply.” For T’oegye, then, the practice of “holding fast to reverence” requires consistent efforts over a long period of time. In this regard, he advises Kim Tonsŏ as follows: When tranquil, cultivate the original essence of heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli) daily; when active, remove the emerging sprouts of ordinary human cravings (inyok/renyu). However, if you build your true learning with continuous effort for a long time in order to make it pure and skillful, then the tranquil becomes emptied and the active becomes orderly. (Chasŏngnok 13)

In this case, one’s mind “remains truly self-aware and calm” so that there will not be any “disorderly and perplexed thoughts” causing “one’s worry or anxiety.” This is also why T’oegye emphasized in his letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 17) that one would have to take “reverence as the master of learning” in order to attain the ultimate goal of self-cultivation. T’oegye’s interpretation of reverence in relation to heaven’s principle appears in other of his leading works such as the Sŏnghak sipto and FourSeven letters. In the Sŏnghak sipto, for example, T’oegye identifies reverence as “the beginning and end of sage learning”: One should “preserve heaven’s principle and overcome selfish human cravings” by means of “holding fast to reverence.”119 As T’oegye says, “The mind of the ordinary people who go against heaven’s principle becomes indulged by their material cravings (mulyok/wuyu). The material cravings are selfish.”120 One should therefore integrate one’s “experience of heaven’s principle” with study and moral effort.121



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The moral and spiritual core of T’oegye’s thought centers around the teaching that reverence is essential to self-cultivation. This teaching is arguably a major development of the Korean Zhu Xi school, one that enriched the Neo-Confucian doctrine of sagehood and spiritual self-cultivation.

Conclusion Let me in concluding this introduction highlight the key aspects of T’oegye’s life and thought according to the Chasŏngnok as well as his other major works. It is also important here to offer some concluding remarks from a modern comparative standpoint. Because the Chasŏngnok as a whole emphasizes the moral-spiritual practice of self-cultivation, it is interested in addressing the question of experience rather than indulging in speculative philosophical or theoretical inquiry. In other words, T’oegye’s thought in the Chasŏngnok deals with what we may call an experiential interpretation of Confucian learning and self-reflection. The Chasŏngnok, unlike the Sŏnghak sipto or Four-Seven debate letters, does not give us a systematic and concise presentation of T’oegye’s thought. Nonetheless, this collection of letters, along with the four attached essays, is an eloquent representation of T’oegye’s character, scholarship, self-cultivation, and mentorship, thereby revealing his holistic knowledge and experience as a student, thinker, scholar, teacher, and spiritual practitioner. T’oegye’s goal in putting together the text was to provide himself with a written source for inspiring or guiding his “selfreflection” (chasŏng) during his later years (his sixties), as well as for advising others about the Confucian way of wisdom. T’oegye’s criticism of Buddhism and Daoism was a natural outcome of his philosophy and scholarship, which reflected his full commitment to Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy. As indicated in the Chasŏngnok, T’oegye criticized the Buddhist method of attaining nirvana and the Daoist practice of self-forgetting because of their neglect of daily learning. Furthermore, the Chasŏngnok repeatedly warns against learning flaws such as taking a shortcut approach: “The most common defect” among many Confucians, according to T’oegye, is their selfish craving to succeed quickly by passing government service examinations or by ignoring self-cultivation altogether. T’oegye advised his disciples and junior colleagues about such problems, which clearly indicates not only his wise character and self-effacing dignity but also his pedagogical mentorship. As we have already seen, T’oegye’s mode of philosophical thinking emphasizes the realization of principle and calls for the personal culti-

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vation of wisdom. He developed a deeper interpretation of principle by addressing what he calls “self-manifesting” principle. Self-manifesting principle is to be realized through self-cultivation, without which its moral-spiritual significance would be lost. In this regard, we may agree with Wm. T. de Bary that T’oegye’s thought is highly concerned with “the moral and transcendent aspects of principle” (1981, 197). Indeed, the Chasŏngnok confirms that the Korean thinker developed a philosophy that extends from metaphysics to ethics and spirituality together with a profound belief in heaven’s principle. But it must be remembered that the Chasŏngnok it is not a philosophical text but a practical moral-spiritual guide. T’oegye’s philosophy of human nature and emotions emphasizes the transcendent, virtuous reality of i/li over the material, physical, and psychological world of ki/qi. “Evil” originates in one’s moral failure insofar as it is caused by selfish acts committed in our daily existence in the active world of ki. This is why T’oegye’s interpretation of self-cultivation is strongly grounded in a philosophy of i concerning virtuous and reverential life. Through self-cultivation we can clearly discern moral principles (heaven’s principle) and selfish cravings: “Hold fast to heaven’s principle,” he writes, and “overcome selfish cravings.” The sagely way of wisdom therefore requires self-reflective reverence toward oneself and others. As the Korean master advised his disciples, “Work on self-reflection and self-rectification every day. Once you get used to this practice, you will realize the truth of learning to become a sage.”122 He also noted in the Sŏnghak sipto that it is important to experience heaven’s principle “within oneself” by cultivating reverence, which unites the inner and outer pillars of self-cultivation. Confucian belief in the “transcendent and human unity” became more important in T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality. He emphasized kyŏng as single-minded concentration without distraction: It is the essence of self-cultivation, a lifelong journey, insofar as the Chasŏngnok is concerned. His scholarship, philosophy, and spirituality converge in self-cultivation in order to realize the deeper realm of human life through a reverential way of self-reflection (chasŏng). In the final analysis, the Chasŏngnok reminds the modern reader about the potentially universal meaning of personal spiritual development. Selfreflection enables one to cultivate wisdom; it is the basis for developing a harmonious relationship with heaven, earth, and other human beings, which in turn unites the cultivated self with the natural and transcendent world.123 From a broader comparative perspective, its global implication is relevant to our moral life as well. The Korean thinker emphasizes our moral and spiritual mind.124 In terms of Confucianism’s compatibility with our modern world, it can be argued that it shares with other spiritual tra-



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ditions a similar ultimate quest for a cultivated/enlightened/liberated/ blessed being that is variously described as sagehood, Buddha Nature, salvation, and so on. Its way of wisdom can bring about an experience of “self-transcendence,”125 which, for T’oegye, empowers the ethical and spiritual transformation of the self.126 The wise person transcends the separation between him or herself and others, thereby extending the reverential compassion of the individual to embrace all living beings. At the heart of T’oegye’s life and thought is this profound belief in the harmonious oneness of the human, natural, and spiritual realities, and such holistic thinking is deeply embedded in his scholarship. The modern meaning of T’oegye’s message is to envision the ultimate reality of our nature as something to be discovered through true self-understanding. In my study of T’oegye’s Chasŏngnok, I therefore suggest the idea of self-reflection as a way of moral and spiritual development.127 Perhaps we need to continue developing its global significance by considering Confucian thought as a “spiritual humanism”128 in dialogue with world philosophies and religions. The converging horizon between Confucianism and other spiritual traditions is their shared commitment to the moral and transcendent reality of human existence.129 We should regard T’oegye’s Neo-Confucianism as a leading legacy of Korean thought as well as a living and highly engaging vision of ethics and spirituality.

II. Translation The Chasŏngnok

The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Reflection)

T’oegye’s Introduction “In the past, people were loath to speak because they regarded it shameful if their person failed to keep up with their own words.”1 I have exchanged letters with my friends and colleagues while studying and discussing [Confucian] learning; the reason why I quote this saying here is inevitable to the extent that I am unable to overcome my embarrassment. Having said so, I already realize that there are things I have forgotten, although other people have not, and that there are also those things others and I have all forgotten. Frankly, this is not only shameful but also very worrisome, insofar as it is almost closer to being ignorant. So far I have found the original copies of existing letters in my old paper boxes; I hand-copied them again and put these copies beside my desk. I carefully read them occasionally, without stopping to reflect repeatedly on myself. There are those [letters] that could not be recorded because their original manuscripts were lost, and there are also those that may be available here. On the other hand, even if I were to include every letter and compile a multivolume set, how would this help? Written by the old man, T’oegye, on the day after the Dano holiday [fifth day of the fifth month] of the Muo year [1558, thirteenth year of King Myŏngjong’s reign].2 Chasŏngnok 1:1a (1 original folio), in TC, vol. 3, 151.

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1. Reply Letter [first] to Nam Sibo3 Since our first exchange of letters last spring, I wanted to follow up with asking you about your well-being, but I could not do so because these days people who travel to or from Seoul all go via the Kimch’ŏn road. I was unable to find a delivery man [who would take that path]. As soon as I received your letter and two poems from my house servant, I learned about your situation. Your previous illness of the mind-and-heart was simply caused by angst and worries; however, it has already been a long time since that illness disappeared. You are now in a new environment. Why have you not yet fully recovered? Hwang4 is getting old [and is inflicted] with a serious illness, so I am obviously getting weaker every day. Compared to the time we met before, my illness is twice as bad. My hair and beard are dull and thinning, my spirit is weary, my eyes are murky, and all symptoms are happening to me one after another. Recently His Majesty5 appointed me once again to serve in his administration,6 but my illness has gotten even worse due to this summer’s hot weather, so I was very weak and could not even move my body around. As a result, I inevitably had to submit a letter of resignation again to the king and sincerely begged him to remove my name.7 However, this generated many expressions of criticism and censure, and I thought that I would be seriously reprimanded for it in the near future. Fortunately, since His Majesty was merciful enough to have pity on me, he issued only a royal statement that warmheartedly advised me to realize [myself]. My appointment to the Jade Hall8 was filled by someone else; however, my other official title, ch’ŏmji,9 is still not removed. I am out of my political career, so it highly contradicts the standard policy for me to continue to have such a government title. Since this is beyond my control, I could do nothing about it. However, His Majesty has embraced this worthless person [me] and finally allowed me to retire. I cannot but express how grateful my sincere heart is to His Majesty! After reading your letter, I have realized that your worries are not coincidental. Taking care of one’s health and treating one’s illness should not be neglected; I have daily experienced all of this for myself. My explanation of it is offered in the attached letter. After hearing about Ŭnggil10 and his family, I felt sorrowful and Chasŏngnok 1:1a–4a (7 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 153–154.



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barely overcame my tears. I am pleased to hear that many of our friends and colleagues are doing well. And I thought about you to thank you for having compassion toward me from far away. It is only this worthless man’s [my] ongoing situation that does not enable me to express my sympathy and condolences to a dead person and to have no opportunity to meet living people [in the future]. I have nothing but regret and lamentation. Attachment When the mental spirit is worrisome [in the way of learning], it is caused by not being thoroughly careful with principles and by analyzing the principles in a futile manner while seeking them thoughtlessly. And one’s approach to preserving the mind [in the practice of self-cultivation] is dim, so he “pulls up a sprout forcefully in order to help it grow [more quickly].”11 Consequently, without realizing the self at all, one’s mind becomes weary and causes one’s vital energy to be exhausted, thereby arriving here at this level [of failure]. This, too, is a common flaw among many beginning scholars. Even if we talk about Master Huian [Zhu Xi’s literary name], it is impossible for him to have had no worry at the beginning [of his learning]. If you already knew that [your problem was like this and you could have fixed it], then it would not be a concern; in other words, it is now about to become a worrisome matter only because you did not know about it early enough to fix it quickly. The origin of my lifelong illness is all rooted in this problem. At present, my concern does not quite match its previous level, but my other illness is getting worse—all due to my aging. If we fix it [learning flaw] quickly at the beginning by using your kind of young and strong energy, nurturing [your] good health and nourishing it in the right way, then how can there ever be more suffering or how can another symptom of defect get in at all? Regarding your learning in the past, your “investigation of principles”12 was excessively deep, almost falling into a realm of puzzlement; moreover, your strenuous effort was arrogant and could not overcome its tendency to rush as it sought forcefully to help you to develop [quickly].13 This is what generated the root of your [learning] flaw, which became more complicated with your illness, thereby reaching the current level of extreme seriousness. How can we not worry about it? I understand that you already know a remedy to cure it: First and foremost, your thinking should transcend ordinary worldly things such as hardship and mastery, the gained and the lost, honor and dishonor, benefit and harm, and so on,

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and then ensure that the illuminating mind is not hampered by [any of] them. Had you realized your mind in this way, your worries would have already been reduced by half or even more. Regarding this effort, in your daily life you should minimize the amount of chatting and socializing (literally, “exchanging drinks”); empty the mind by controlling its fondness and craving; live a pleasant life with spare time; appreciate painting, calligraphy, or flowers; and take pleasure in watching stream fish and mountain birds. In this way you can truly think congenially and not always dislike dealing with things so that your mind’s vital energy (ki/qi) may always remain pure and smooth. Let it not deviate or become disorderly so that you do not resent or get angry. This is the essential method. When reading books, do not let the mind work excessively; we must avoid reading too much. One should just enjoy the savoring of reading as one’s mind is inclined to do. Regarding the investigation of principles, it is imperative to follow simple and clear places [and things] in daily living and also to see through them and be familiar with them. One may fully stroll along [among places and things] that one already knows and is highly familiar with; however, in the situation where there is neither an intention nor no intention, one should not forget to take good care of one’s learning. If this kind of effort is developed over a long time, one will understand [things] and acquire [their principles] naturally. Furthermore, one should not seek a quick result14 by being excessively attached to or constrained by [that result]. In your letter you stated that “ ‘always nourishing [good] human nature and self-reflecting’ [in the daily practice of self-cultivation] is a major doctrine transmitted through our Confucian school, and heaven’s principle15 and human affairs are not two things.” This is well said. Nonetheless, if you emphasize the term “enlightenment” (o/wu) strongly, you are talking about the Buddhist method of northern India concerning “enlightenment and transcendence.” I have never heard of any such a thing in our tradition of Confucian doctrines. As I mentioned above, you are therefore worried unwillingly about seeking and forcing yourself to develop quickly; perhaps, you are still unable to overcome this problem. Since I had experienced this flaw in myself, I know it well, and I can talk about it without any doubt. Regarding the way of taking care of it, I have not seen its result yet, so I feel very embarrassed to presume to mention it. We can only commiserate over the same problem so as to help each other [in overcoming] the same worries; this is why I felt I had to express my feelings so far. I just hope that if you do not mind talking to someone



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[indirectly referring to T’oegye himself] although he is worthless, this will help you. There are seven volumes of Huian’s [Zhu Xi’s] letters.16 His enormous work generally exists in these letters, but my time is running out and I am unable to continue to give my efforts to studying them. I greatly regret, and feel it lamentable, that I have not done [enough of] this study over several decades. Hopefully you will take my case as a warning signal and not end up, after quitting study in middle age due to some onetime illness, regretting the last part of your life. Among your wonderful poems, the archaic-style poem is highly profound in meaning, but the four-line poem does not lack some doubtful points. I am hereby sending you my [two] poems in imitation of yours; since you are far away from here, please spare a smile at them. Sahyŏng17 has already entered Myohyang Mountain. I understand that you will follow him to complete a long, magnificent sightseeing tour; I envy you. We shall be separated from each other even longer. But it is really impossible to foretell if you intend to return and see me next spring; rather, I’ll be very fortunate if this exchange of letters regarding our wellbeing does not stop. My poems are as follows. Archaic style Being unable to see you,   time is quickly flowing indeed. Our unknown worry became illness,   each covering his light in darkness.18 Whatever people in the past desired in their course of action,   its method is unclear from that earlier time. Comfortable with slaughtering cows skillfully,   but hurt by pulling up a sprout forcefully. Wishing to think and encourage each other,   difficult due to the Taekwallyŏng Valley separating us. Enclosing a letter and tying it on a returning seagull,   the cloud is blue as I solitarily look west. Four-line Stanza The sages spoke of “penetrating above,”19 not “self-enlightenment.”20 Worthwhile merit results from steady and long-growing efforts. Speaking of non-action21 is wrong; Why, your words fall into the empty talk of Zen!

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2. Reply Letter [second] to Nam Sibo22 This [Confucian] learning is entirely grounded in the way of training, refining, and self-cultivating efforts among colleagues and friends. In our town, however, our scholars and friends and those determined people are mostly tied to their [normal] work and therefore unable to fully dedicate themselves to learning and are hardly watchful over their work. Moreover, I am concerned with seeing things daily become dull and stagnant as I blankly sit on [this] mountain. Whenever I remember the pleasure we enjoyed while meeting together in Seoul, I regret being unable to see you again; I also feel exactly the same as what is expressed in your letter. What I have discussed with you so far became mostly vague and broad. Recently, I have finally realized [the answer to] this problem after studying Huian’s [Zhu Xi’s] letters, which helped me to understand his intimate, true thoughts. Generally speaking, principle pervades our daily lives. This is absolutely true whether moving or stopping, talking or being silent, whether dealing with phenomena or moral human relationships, or also regarding everyday affairs, obvious places, or refined details. When principle is made manifested, it is near to our eyes; when it exists in subtle places, it is formless.23 The beginners of our learning want to throw away this truth and engage all at once with very deep and great things, thereby taking a shortcut approach to quick success. Since this was something that even Zigong did not do,24 how can we ever do that? Accordingly, if you only seek it, you will do nothing but expend worthless effort; what you do will be vague and have no well-grounded substance. As Yanping said,25 “The principle of the Way is to be cultivated in daily life.”26 What a wonderful teaching!

Chasŏngnok 1:4a–4b (2 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 154.



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3. Reply Letter to Kim Paegyŏng, [Kim] Kahaeng, and [Kim] Tonsŏ27 On Ritual Propriety for Moving the Mother’s Coffin to the Father’s Grave Site for Combined Burial “When you do funeral rites for both parents simultaneously, do the less important one first and the more important one next.”28 Because the funeral rite for parents generally causes a great deal of sadness and suffering, it is ultimately that which no child wishes to go through. It is only that none of us can avoid doing it. However, in regard to the degree of emotional suffering we experience, the renovation of an existing grave site seems to be less serious than the creation of a new grave site. This is why I pointed out that there is a small difference in “the propriety of observing funeral rites for both parents simultaneously,” when you asked me such a question the other day. In general, if our present subject matter is not the same as what is already meant in the “Questions by Zengzi” section [of the Book of Rites],29 then I think that we do not need to be restricted to the precedent of “doing the less important funeral first.” Nonetheless, my view may not be correct because it grew out of a careless hypothesis that can become a mistake deviating from ritual propriety. On further reflection, in carefully considering various examples of [funeral] rites one by one, I have realized that there is no supportive rational basis for the propriety of honoring [i.e., moving] an existing grave [the mother’s] and moving it to a new site [the father’s] for combined burial. However, people in the past all dealt with the renovation of an existing grave as a funeral rite; you can find out more about this in the Meaning and Etiquette [of Family Rites] compiled by [Qiu] Qiongshan.30 Now if we act properly according to the precedent of doing a parental funeral rite rather than creating or analyzing a careless view, then we will not deviate from the meaning of ritual propriety. For this reason it is said, “do the less important funeral first and then the more important one next.”31 This is just to correct what is mistaken in my previous statement. I was unable to articulate its reason because I became ill that day. Thanks for your understanding. Attachment Regarding ritual costumes for moving an existing grave, it has been said that if it is impossible to wear funeral clothes after actually seeing a coffin, Chasŏngnok 1:4b–9b (11 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 154–157.

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then how is it possible not to wear them at all in the case of moving one’s mother’s grave? Nonetheless, this saying is very doubtful, indeed; still, [however dubious] it is, we should consider carefully that children do not differentiate in their affection toward each of their parents. Nevertheless, when the sages established ritual propriety, they certainly did not favor the father’s status being lower than the mother’s. They therefore avoided this view [of favoring] after realizing the important teaching that there cannot be two heads within a family. Isn’t this view intended to imply that among the five funeral costumes it is Sima, the last and lowest type, that is not to be used in parental funeral rites?32 In this regard, there are no other funeral clothes below Sima; however, if the [first and highest] Ch’amch’oe costume is already identified as something belonging to the Sima group, then there are no clothes associated with what is below the [second highest] Chach’oe.33 Does this then mean only white funeral clothing (sobok) is to be used? According to a footnote in the chapter on “Ritual Clothes for Renovating a Grave [or Moving a Coffin],” Qiongshan’s Meaning and Etiquette [of Family Rites],34 it is stated: “A child [son] cares about his father, and a wife cares about her husband; therefore, they all wear the white sobok clothing as well as its hat.” I have also found no words about the mother’s funeral; it is therefore difficult for anyone to freely wear a funeral costume one level higher [i.e., Ch’amch’oe]. Nonetheless, since our current subject is about performing a new funeral rite [for the father] and moving an existing grave [mother’s to a new site, the father’s], it is certainly necessary to observe the ritual propriety of a joint funeral and mourning for both parents together. When renovating the [mother’s] existing grave, we wear the Ch’amch’oe, thereby implying that one does not change one’s funeral clothes.35 In other words, this is not the same as the situation in which wearing the white funeral clothing (sobok) while renovating only the mother’s grave site is not appropriate. How about doing it this way?: What Zeng Zezhi36 asked points to procedural guidelines about sobbing and expressing grief, kneeling and bowing, and wearing ritual clothes during a funeral rite for a paternal uncle or brother. This is naturally not identical to the case of performing a funeral rite for the death of both parents; therefore, it is what Master Zhu Xi basically said in his reply [to Zeng’s question]. It is certainly unsuitable to talk about these [two different types of] rites by combining them together.* 37 Someone said: “The Great Compendium of the Ming Dynasty’s Govern*

The question Zeng asked appears in Qiongshan’s [Meaning and Etiquette of] Family Rites.



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ing Systems (Da Ming huidian) and [Ming’s] Records of Filial Piety and Parental Benevolence (Xiaoci lu) both mention funeral clothing guidelines by recommending the Ch’amch’oe in the case of funeral rites for one’s father and mother. Therefore, if wearing the Ch’amch’oe is already done, then why would it be incorrect to wear the Sima in the case of renovating an existing grave [for the mother]?” Furthermore, the tradition of funeral clothing mentioned in the Records of Filial Piety and Benevolence is simply about the ritual propriety of Qiongshan’s Family Rites. And the so-called current system represents the former kings’ system, which was often revised and became very hard to understand; it is therefore impossible to determine whether Chinese people uniformly followed this system. If the Ch’amch’oe is used, the Sima clothes should certainly be worn in the same way. Perhaps it’s just very inconsistent with the ancient system. In the Book of Rites,38 it mentions “returning after observing a funeral rite” and “finally being ready to do a funeral rite.” This classic also mentions that someone who had received a funeral rite before39 does not need to go through the regular uje rites40 and subsequent puje mourning again but should first wait for the new funeral rite of the other person.41 According to this, moving an existing grave [the mother’s] is to be finished first, but it should not be filled in with soil yet; that is, a funeral rite will be done the following day.* If this is so, there is no flaw in your saying to “honor a new funeral rite [the father’s] and arrive at its grave site” and to “go to the place where an existing grave [the mother’s] is being moved.” Nonetheless, it is not absolutely reasonable to observe the posterior funeral one or two days earlier even though the date for renovating the existing grave is given. If the time difference [between these two rites] is far apart, then you should not fill in [the existing grave] with soil; however, this will also be problematic if it is delayed for many days. In the inevitable event that this causes the burial part of the new funeral rite to be postponed for over a day, thereby leaving a coffin outside in open space, someone will need to look after it, and one of the family’s sons in mourning should stay with the coffin while honoring and watching it. Since it is important to follow the funeral procedure, it might be acceptable for this person even if he cannot go to the location to where the existing grave is being moved. *

According to a brief footnote in the “Questions by Zengzi: Compatible Funeral Rites,” Master Zhang [Zai; 1020–1073] instructed: “Do not cover with soil a grave that previously had a funeral rite and wait for the beginning of a new rite that will be done later.” This is because their dates are close to each other. To cover the grave with soil means filling it in with soil.

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When you are in an ancestral shrine at home after completing a funeral-mourning rite, your experience will not be the same as when there is to be no burial. So how about having all funeral attendants come to the shrine and pay homage to your ancestors? It was also said during our previous communication that “the white funeral clothing (sobok) is to be worn when paying homage to the ancestral shrine,” but this is a careless view. It is already understood that when observing a funeral rite, one dare not wear different clothes. Given this [tradition], it would seem improper to change one’s clothes. On the other hand, if it is necessary to honor the ancestors or if one cannot wear proper funeral clothes, then one will inevitably replace them with the mukch’oe clothes,42 and it is justified for expediency’s sake to wear the white sobok clothing. However, one cannot enter one’s home ancestral shrine (kamyo) while wearing a funeral hat with hemp funeral clothes. So how about having one’s sons bring out an ancestral tablet (sinju) [literally, “spiritual tablet”] in order to venerate it while wearing ritual clothes and then returning it to the shrine? I have previously seen the theory that the names of the descendents honoring an ancestral rite are written on the left [side of an ancestral tablet], as it is indicated in the Diagram of Family Rites (Jiali tu).43 I then realized that this theory is similar to, for example, the following statement in the Great Learning Commented (Daxue juan): “[Ritual] steps are identical to what appears on the left.” This is generally because of having the other side [of the tablet] to the left or right from the angle of one’s viewpoint as the standard. I did not have any doubt about it [the Daxue juan’s statement]. Last time I was in Seoul I met with a scholar who was formerly a student of Mojae.44 According to him, “Mojae said, ‘That which is on the left points to the left-hand side of the ancestral table [when seen from the tablet’s view angle].’ ” Mojae’s statement must be well grounded because of his comprehensive and broad knowledge; however, I finally became concerned about it. I have just noticed a footnote in the Diagram of the Elementary Learning45 confirming the statement about that which is on the left [of the table], as indicated in the footnote. As a result, I have realized that what Mojae mentioned was grounded in this [text] as well. Moreover, you have instructed me that “the spiritual tradition puts the right side higher, and within an ancestral tablet cabinet the father is honored on the right and the mother on the left46 but [that] it would not be proper to write the names of those [descendants] honoring the rite on the right.”47 * After seeing this explanation, I have attained a refined level of understanding *

The right side of an ancestral tablet is the left side of people facing the tablet.



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and thorough study. Perhaps, it would be better to rely on the “Diagram of Elementary Learning.”* Regarding the subject of doing an ancestral rite immediately after a funeral and burial rite, if you cannot closely follow the ritual propriety of the past, it will be difficult for the relevant aspects of the rite to be compatible with morality. Now, if it is already impossible to be free from a given tradition, then you would certainly choose that which is reasonable. It is now difficult to enshrine the wip’an wood ancestral tablets [in a home ancestral shrine] and also problematic to maintain them later; instead, it is convenient to use the chibang papers48 by putting them in ancestral cabinets and then disarding them later by burning them. So it is certainly acceptable to follow someone’s advice [for this matter]. According to the Yili (K. Ŭirye; Etiquette and rites),49 it is said, “A ritual table [consisting of food and drink offerings] has to be prepared (sŏlchŏn’gu) just outside the family ancestral shrine when the funeral room door is about to be opened [for a coffin to leave the house for burial].” It is also said [in the Book of Rites], “When [a dead person is] moving toward the ancestral shrine (chojo), a chung symbol leads, a table of offerings follows, then a candle, and then his coffin follows last.”50 Furthermore, when the coffin’s inner and outer sides are correctly placed between two supporting pillars, “set up the ritual offering table for the first time,† and remove it at sunrise.‡ And then honor him with an offering table.”§ The ritual propriety of the past was like this, for which reason Wengong’s51 Family Rituals (Jiali) presents instructions for the ritual of giving an offer-

* Later when I carefully read The Great Compendium of the Ming Dynasty’s Governing Systems (Da Ming huidian) again, I noticed its guideline that [the names of] venerating descendents are written on the right side of an ancestral tablet, which is identical to what is instructed in the Family Rituals (Jiali). Therefore, as I said in my letter to the town of Oenae [Kim Tonsŏ’s home address], “That guideline represents the ritual tradition China was following at the time, and it is also said that according to Confucius, ‘I will follow the Zhou[’s tradition].’ So I was hoping that these points will also be considered in deciding what to do.” However, Oenae [Kim Tonsŏ] eventually decided to write descendants’ names on the left by following the Family Rites. † This probably means following the coffin and having a ritual offering table right there, as in the case of doing the Grand Autumn Rite; therefore, it seems to indicate “an offering table for the first time.” ‡ This is to remove the ritual offering table that was used before. § Removing the offering table is already mentioned above, but the saying “honor him with an offering table” means honoring with the table that was already set up outside the ancestral shrine’s doors at this time.

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ing table.* Qiongshan52 endeavored to be concise in the sense that he had already replaced the step of having a coffin with the honbaek53 spirit cloth of a dead person; furthermore, he ended up removing this step [i.e., having an offering table in front of the coffin] from the funeral rite. Generally speaking, the precedent of a dead person’s last [farewell] visit to his home ancestral shrine [on the third funeral day] is modeled after the normal daily ritual of honoring ancestors in an ancestral shrine. The reason for this precedent is that the offering of ritual food—previously done by accompanying the coffin—can be removed any time, since it is an act of depending on spirits; however, it is not done to venerate the ancestors. Accordingly, Wengong [Zhu Xi] was able to preserve it. If we must talk about making a separate offering table, it does not mean that one daily prepares offerings of food and drink to honor one’s ancestors. So Wengong ended up removing this [part of the funeral rite]. Qiongshan moreover omitted both types of offering tables. Did he not make the subject excessively brief in this regard? According to the Yili, even though a ritual offering table is set up separately, the reason for not having the offering table in an ancestral shrine is that a dead person cannot discern the meaning of performing an ancestral ritual there because he has departed from this world. Furthermore, there is no mention of the ritual of incense burning and kneeling-bowing twice generally because the way that [the dead person in] a coffin leaves the ancestral shrine cannot be done by a ritual master [who is normally the deceased’s first son]. As the Yili states, when the [dead person’s] ritual of visiting his ancestors is to be performed, “place his coffin correctly between two supporting pillars. The ritual master walks upstairs on the west side, and the coffin faces toward the west from the east.”† At this time, one cannot change one’s clothes and enter [an ancestral shrine], so those who are wearing funeral clothes cannot enter; this saying applies to other ancestral rites and certain examples of other rites as well. In case of the [dead person’s] ritual of visiting his ancestors, his coffin enters the ancestral shrine; so how is it that those people wearing funeral clothes cannot enter the shrine? If the uje funeral-and-mourning rites54 [for both parents] coincidently happen together, they are done on different days; if their joint burial is * However, what Master Zhu Xi meant is the offering table (chŏn) that was already prepared and also accompanied the coffin [during the third funeral day]; he probably did not point to another separate offering table to be honored. † It is also said that people [participating in this ritual] move to their location on the east. In this regard, the people certainly refer to a group of men.



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to be done on the same day, it is unnecessary to do these uje rites on the different days. So we can certainly doubt such a custom. Furthermore, since husband and wife form one body, it would not hurt to do their uje rites on the same days if these rites are unexpectedly identical. It only seems to me that the saying to “do the less important funeral first and the more important one next”55 would definitely apply to the joint burial case. However, since this saying just means that “they are done on different days,” there must be a deeper meaning that would not be a forcefully unreasonable theory. Nonetheless, if we abuse it by over-acting through any uncontrolled thinking, we would not be as appropriate as [if we were] following instructions in the Book of Rites only. What do you think? It seems certain to me that the so-called first day of the month is related to the Chinese sexagenary cycle [of recording days]; however, after reflecting on the ancient classics I believe that all of them point to the stems-and-branches cycle of the beginning day [of the month].56 Generally speaking, people of the past must have thought in such a way because they emphasized the first day of each month and also believed that if there was a mistake with it, there would be the problem of other days being in conflict. The so-called koae [self-identified person in funeral mourning after losing both parents] originated with recent generations; in other words, it [that person] was previously known as koja [self-identified person in funeral mourning after losing the father] in ancient ritual texts. However, Wenkong [Master Zhu Xi] said earlier that “it is not improper to use [certain words] according to one’s own standard customs,” so it would not hurt to use the character ae [whose meaning is sorrow in the word koae] as well. Nevertheless, it is inappropriate to use the character tŭng [whose meaning is relevance level] because when referring to a funeral ritual master we mean to honor his ancestors and respect their first-son lineage without including [the level of] ordinary people in this ritual. The Uje funeral-and-mourning practices are eventually to be done by performing auspicious rites. Nonetheless, no ritual guidelines about this matter are provided. It certainly seems suitable to wear a headband (manggŏn); however, because this is also unfounded on any ritual text, people today do not wear it [as a funeral headdress]. In general, we do not know [enough] about the manggŏn tradition because it originated with recent generations and therefore is not recorded in the ritual texts. I want to make another point regarding what is mentioned in the Elementary Records of Funeral-and-Mourning Clothes (Sangbok sogi): For the Uje and Cholgok rites concerning the Sogong and Sima funeral clothes,57 it is better to remove your kuan hat [better known as the gentry-class kat]

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and have your kye hair [bundled and tied-up sangt’u] instead. It is also said that when a funeral is already done but its Uje [follow-up] rites not peformed, ritual participants including even the ritual master should all wear a kat; however, when participating in the Uje rites, they should take off the kat hat and have the sangt’u hair, and so on. This instruction also applies to those who had observed the funeral but could not continue with its Uje rites for work-related reasons* may simply dress their hair with a kat hat. Nonetheless, when participating in the Uje rites the ritual master and others who are wearing their Sima or Sogong clothes will all have the sangt’u hair [instead of the kat hat]. After all, the word mun means removing one’s kat hat but having one’s sangt’u [hair tied up with hemp cloth]; in other words, when compared with wearing the kat hat, this sangt’u hair implies the sorrow of mourning as part of the formal custom of clothing. The saying “remove your kat and wear your sangt’u during the Uje and Cholgok rites” mainly emphasizes the sorrow of mourning among those ritual participants; this practice [of wearing the sangt’u] rather refers to the formal custom of [mourning] clothing, even though standard daily clothing is accepted. In this regard, we may therefore say that it will do no harm if you do not wear a hair band in the Uje rites.

*

In other words, those who could not participate in the Uje rites,



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4. Reply Letter [first] to Chŏng Chajung58 Generally speaking, there exists a flaw among scholars due to failure to establish the objective of learning. If the objective is sincere and firm, why would one’s learning not be achieved, and why worry about the problem of not hearing the Way (Dao)?59 I think you have this objective, but you have not received good, caring guidance from today’s generation of cultivated people who know the Way. So you are too modest, to the extent that you are consulting a foolish person like me. How unfortunate this has been for you! And is it not a deeply embarrassing and worrisome situation for me? We previously exchanged once or twice some relevant words. This letter you have sent me explains certain points in doubt, but what you said is greatly mistaken. People in the past honored ritual (ye/li) with high respect and courtesy because they observed it exactly according to its appropriateness regarding ritual practice, for which reason it became valuable. On the other hand, if you perform it [ritual] with too much respect and courtesy, isn’t this enough to create laughter (literally, “for being a laughter like that of an artificial bird” [used in catching real birds])? Moreover, in the past a man who stole a good name [reputation] without [having] real merit was viewed as comparable to “the burglar who breaks in or climbs over walls.”60 This is why I do not want to gain a name between the Liang and Chu states [in ancient China].61 You said, “I am not afraid of ridicule or censure by others.” So if this is the right reason for scholarly discussion among our friends and colleagues, then how can I possibly avoid the discussion? Up to now, it has been not uncommon for me to debate [true] learning, despite the fact that I was subject to being laughed at or looked down upon. Hopefully you will drop other [wrong] reasons for learning and really study that which is in doubt. Isn’t this right?

Chasŏngnok 1:10a–10b (2 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 157.

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5. Reply Letter [second] to Chŏng Chajung I have not heard from you over the entire past spring, but now, since a Buddhist monk brought me your letter, I can understand your recent situation. You said, “I could not avoid getting into some trouble after dealing with difficult family matters. As a result, however, this also enabled me to bravely rectify myself through careful reflection.” Very good, but I think that something still seems incomplete. On the whole, what I have heard is that people in the old days established the [four-fold] foundation of filial piety, brotherly love, loyalty, and sincerity62 as the reason for learning and then carried out ten thousand affairs of the world while “fully developing their nature and reaching the ultimate level of its mandate.”63 So nothing is excluded in the Great Substance: What is to be done first essentially exists in one’s daily family matters. It is therefore said that “When the foundation is established, the Way will grow.”64 If your learning effort is hindered by handling difficult [family] matters at this time, then this claim indeed differs from what people in the past said [about learning].65 Does this not imply that in doing things, because you are slow with moral principles whereas your effort at gaining [self-serving] benefits is quick, you have naturally come to this situation? Hopefully, you will not abandon the right purpose [for learning] and will correct the reality of your engagement with work, follow your parents and take care of them with joy. If you do all related things solely according to moral principles, your gains from daily actions so far would certainly be justified in the right context. The details of this type of doctrine are all available in [Confucian] books, so everything depends on how hard one works through careful understanding and [thoughtful] consideration. I am concerned as well with an issue [regarding your thinking]: Now that the so-called suddenly reduced cannot be reserved until later, as former Confucian worthies warned, “The field fire did not entirely burn down, so it will begin again when the spring wind blows.”66 My serious illness is lingering, so I cannot give my full effort to reading, the study of principles, and moral practice. And I am no help to our friends and colleagues with regard to learning and self-cultivation; I sometimes think about this and feel nervous and uncomfortable. I have almost finished copying and editing Master Zhu Xi’s writings. Every time someone comes to see me with a copied version of Zhu’s works, I have to check and correct it against the original, but I also frequently become mentally and Chasŏngnok 1:10b–13a (6 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 157–159.



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physically tired due to my persistent illness. Thanks to this work, I got to know and experience that which is near and genuine; as a result, I have truly realized that the teaching of the sages and worthies does not mislead me. However, it is difficult for me to explain this to other people through writing.67 I am wondering how many more years heaven will grant me for more study at this late stage of my life. The saying that “the mind is the Great Ultimate”68 means that the mind is “the human ultimate.”69 In other words, principle is beyond things and myself; [it] has no separated division, is neither inside nor outside, and has no particular body. When tranquil, it is entirely complete in itself and becomes one foundation, so it originally has no distinction between being in the mind and being in things.70 When active it responds to phenomena; in interacting with things, it remains the principle of all things and phenomena as well as the principle of my mind-and-heart. This just means that the mind-and-heart as the master [of the self] properly acts according to certain rules. How can we have the principle of things after waiting for my mind-and-heart to move outward? Beixi was a leading disciple of Zhu Xi who remained most accurate at explaining the investigation of principles.71 How could he possibly talk without knowing this? It is only Chen’s [Beixi’s] inclusion of the words “move outward” in the sentence that I find somewhat questionable in the same way your letter pointed out. However, this is just a small error in wording; if the reader understands its intended meaning well, there will be nothing that can be blocked. I think that it is not right to say “comes out of the mind separately in pieces.” Moreover, according to your letter, we refer to one principle, whether it exists in the mind or in phenomena; this is correct. But you also stated that “the so-called one foundation refers to the total core of principle, and it does not refer to being in the mind.” In general, if you only meant “one principle,” how and where could the principle’s total core exist without the mind? We will truly know only after making absolutely clear that whether existing in the mind or in things does not imply two kinds. Otherwise, how can we even say that “it is just one [particular] principle”? If so, this would mean that we still do not have any illuminating understanding of “one foundation and ten thousand manifestations” (ilbon mansu/yiben wanshu). This is why I have previously indicated to you every time that it is indeed difficult to understand the term i/li (principle; ground of being). What do you think? You said that according to Tongshu (K. T’ongsŏ; Penetrating the Book of Changes), “ignorant people should seek help from the illuminated people who understand [the sagely teaching],”72 and “the beauty of literature

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when one is earnest about real substance [i.e., moral principles] while doing art.”73 According to Zhu Xi’s theory, the body has either one-sidedness or correctness. You are completely right about these points. But I have doubt about the two words “there” and “here” in your saying that “incipient activation (ki/ji) moves from there, and sincerity (sŏng/cheng) moves from here.”74 In my opinion, ki here refers to the subtle nature of activation that moves in reaction to things; therefore, we say “there” in that case. By contrast, sŏng means the real substance of principle, and it manifests from the inside; therefore, we say “here” in this case. That’s all, I think. Your statement that “there is good but I do not live up to it”75 is [actually] a question. Attached to that sentence there should have been a footnote like “What shall I do?”76 but I do not see it. This is because Lianxi [Zhou Dunyi]77 briefly mentioned the statement there, but it also became more complicated due to the fact that we Koreans read the text by adding relevant grammatical particles [markers].78 On the other hand, Chinese scholars are not subject to using such additional particles for reading, so it is acceptable for them to state that “there is good but I do not live up to it” and then briefly add [a note to the effect of] “more words following . . . [What shall I do].” Nothing would be wrong with this [abbreviated] connecting note here! The first and second sections of the [sixteenth] chapter on “Movement and Tranquility” [in the Tongshu] present the metaphysical and the physical separately; in other words, things having physical bodies are intermingled with one another whereas what transcends physical forms is beyond our comprehension.79 So you are now incorrect to talk about this matter in terms of “the uniformity of division and the flow of destiny.” You can understand it if you thoroughly study relevant footnotes in the text. I would also like to tell you that my opinions probably developed out of careless hypotheses or conjectures, for which reason I am not sure whether I am right or wrong. If any point is unreasonable, please teach me again so that it will fortunately benefit our discussion further.



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6. Reply Letter [third] to Chŏng Chajung Today I have learned from Kyŏngso80 that you have returned from the mountain. I think that you have greatly benefited from reading [ChengZhu] Neo-Confucian books (literally, “books on human nature and principle”) in a quiet and peaceful environment. I highly regret that I could not rid myself of doubts [about these books] after studying them at my desk. We have previously debated the statement that “the mind is the Great Ultimate.”81 After carefully thinking over [Chen] Beixi’s explanation, I found it to be flawed. However, Yanping82 told Zhu Xi about the point that “it is wrong to judge the place of many manifestations (punsu/fen­ shu) from this.”83 As indicated in the Daxue huowen (Answers to questions about the Great Learning), supplementary chapter, Zhu Xi’s theory is that “the mind is the master of the body” and “principle exists in the myriad things.” So the [“empty-yet-illuminating”] substance and [“subtle”] function of the mind are discussed in terms of [“the principle of heaven and earth” and “the mind of an individual”], respectively.84 Master Cheng [Yi] said, “Don’t you feel hungry when other people eat their fill?” On the basis of these words, we can see that Beixi’s theory is wrong. You were able to recognize its flaws, although doing so is very difficult indeed. I am returning to you the book Isang’s Ceremonial Manual.85 I am unable these days to give full effort to [the study of] this work because my stomach ailment has become more serious and frequent. Although I actually like reading it very much, I could not do the hand-copying, so I feel highly bitter about my worsening health. My work of hand-copying Huian’s [Zhu Xi’s] letters is now finished with the help of many people, and I have already asked Yi Taeyong to sort the letters into a single book,86 but I have not yet received it. I am in any case quite fortunate to have completed it as one single project in my free time. My energy has by now weakened to such a level that I do not know if it will eventually help [our discussion] even to a tiny degree like the tip of a hair.

Chasŏngnok 1:13a–13b (2 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 159.

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7. Reply Letter [fourth] to Chŏng Chajung I have read the letter you sent me. According to it, we can unexpectedly know a medication for any particular disease. As Zhu Xi said, the mindand-heart of the desire to remove [a flaw] is indeed a medication that can remove [it]. Since you already recognized his saying, it is not necessary to ask other people about it. If only you can reach the stage of being pure and masterful after patiently making more effort, moving forward without quitting, and learning and practicing “for a long time,” the mind-and-heart and principle will become one [and united] and you will avoid any trouble from holding onto [mind-and-heart] and keeping it in some cases and letting it go and losing it in other cases. According to Master Cheng [Yi], practice [self-cultivation] is vital in learning; it works well when you fully “concentrate on one thing.”87 He also said, “Be orderly and dignified and ‘be solemn and austere.’88 In this way, the mind-heart becomes one [single-mindedness] and then naturally will not go wrong or [become] one-sided.”89 This is what is meant by learning. However, the way to practice lerning is certainly what Yanzi [Yan Yuan] meant [according to Confucius]: “Do not look, listen, speak, and move when it is not in accordance with propriety (li; ritual).”90 Similarly, “whenever moving the body . . . , rectifying the facial expression . . . , or speaking properly,”91 give your full effort as Zengzi [Confucius’ disciple] did. If done in this way, your efforts will be easily fulfilled because they are well grounded. After accomplishing self-cutlivation through true hard work over a long time, we may understand or discuss the saying that “[Yan Yuan] did not deviate from human-heartedness for three months”92 or “one single thread binding . . .”93 However, the letter I received from you does not correspond to these kinds of teachings. If one worries about the inconsistency of “holding it [the mind] fast and preserving it,”94 one’s experience of it is like breathing in an empty and tranquil place. When discussing the “unmanifested state” (mibal/ weifa) of this mind,95 we doubt whether there is consciousness, and it becomes very difficult to hold and settle it down. Hence, I am prudently thinking that if one practices this way, one cannot expect to get comfort and calmness because one’s mentality of “holding it fast and preserving it” becomes dizzier and shakier. This is why Master Cheng96 always interpreted [the phrase] “sitting in oblivion” (chwamang) as “sitting and [the Chasŏngnok 1:13b–15a (4 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 159–160.



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mind] running away” (chwach’i)97 when Su Jiming98 repeatedly questioned the “unmanifested state.” Two Cheng masters discussed it99 but finally concluded by emphasizing reverence (kyŏng/jing).100 Furthermore, when Master Zhu discussed the idea of centrality and harmony, he also said, One cannot seek before manifesting (mibal/weifa) and cannot manipulate after manifesting (ibal/ifa).101 Only that if the daily “effort at cultivating oneself”102 with enduring reverence is utmost and undisturbed . . . is the unmanifested state [before feelings/emotions are aroused] clear like a mirror and tranquil like still water, and the manifested state [after feelings/emotions are aroused] will certainly attain its due measure and degree.103

In considering your latest letter’s wording in regard to these teachings, I find your tendency of “seeking” and “manipulating” seriously excessive. Doesn’t this deviate from that which attains through building “the daily effort at cultivating oneself with enduring reverence” for a long time? Regarding the question of “whether or not there is consciousness before the mind is manifested,” Master Zhu explained it thoroughly in his answering letter to Lü Ziyue.104 I also find some flaw in your discussion about combining feelings and emotions (chŏng/qing) with intentions or about the relationship between i/li and ki/qi. I feel tired due to my illness and I don’t want to cause the delivery assistant to go back very late, so I would like to end my writing here and wait for your next letter.

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8. Reply Letter [fifth] to Chŏng Chajung You have already mastered the method of learning and realized where its defect exists. Therefore, continue to be mindful of the cautious saying that “advancing too quickly causes a quick retreating” and do not give up your good effort. Keep working hard for a long period of time and then the quality of your hard work becomes transformed, the virtue of human-heartedness becomes fruitful, and you will experience a vast joy throughout your life. However, I also worry that when you rush [to quick success], you might instead end up with no accomplishment. Most things are like this, so one has to act directly in the situation in which he is involved. Nevertheless, if he knows this way but his action fails to fulfill it, then this would undermine the Confucian sagely teaching about “action before speaking and speaking according to action.”105 According to this letter you sent me, you have decided to study with your “single-minded effort” (literally, “concentrating on one thing”) in a proper, peaceful place. This, too, does not seem to be entirely right.106 If there are certain things disturbing the world, they can indeed obstruct one’s learning. However, it is not true that everyday family affairs do not relate to the realm of “establishing the great foundation” with single-minded effort. It is not difficult to maintain single-minded effort in a peaceful place, whereas it is difficult to do so in a noisy place. If you must study hard only in a peaceful place, the so-called Chabŭi (An explanation of various ideas)* will also be the secondary matter of concern because it slows you down and allows you to lay back.107 Isn’t that right? Attachment We should thoroughly and clearly understand the theory that principle exists in the mind as well as phenomena. This is how one begins to know the difficult aspects of principle. Even if the sun is under the ground, it will certainly shine brightly. We can know this just by looking at its light, which is getting reflected and becoming like the brightness of the moon. However, winter is the yin of the four seasons. That which is below earth is the yin of that which is above the earth. The sunshine over the earth during the winter season becomes a little weaker not because the sun itself is *

Chŏng Chajung compiled a practical guide about the former worthies’ doctrines.

Chasŏngnok 1:15a–18a (6 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 160–161.



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blocked but simply because the ultimate yin causes it. Therefore, although there is a light under the accumulated yin of the great land, it would definitely be different from the afternoon [light] that came out of the land. This is why the Book of Changes says that “the sunshine that entered into the center of earth is the myŏngi.” “The mind-and-heart of compassion is the living way (saengdo/shengdao) of human beings,” said Master Cheng.108 In the following paragraph, I have detailed three kinds of commentary on this saying that were given by the followers of Zhu Xi; please consult them. In general, the term saeng/ sheng means life [creativity]109 in the context of living and also implies living a life without limits. In other words, that which is universally related to the mind that heaven and earth have for the myriad things to live is only the one word saeng. So in answering a question raised by someone about “the mind that heaven and earth have for things to live,” Master Zhu said, “The mind of heaven and earth is none other than [to create] life (saeng/sheng).”110 Generally speaking, things all arose from this saeng (creativity), so they actually exist. And the reason why human beings and things are living without limits is that saeng; if they are not living, they get dry and die. Accordingly, neither greedy tyrants nor hedonists nor evil men could live on without saeng, which also indicates particularly “the life in the reality of living.” However, the latest [fifth] letter I received from you interpreted it as “birth” [or “to be born”; literally, “life-issuing”], and also as “movement and being used.” This interpretation does not seem to concur with the original meaning of the teaching. Since no one is incomplete in the substance of the mind, benevolence (in/ren) is the virtue of the mind-and-heart (simjidŏk/xinzhide), and wisdom (chi/zhi) is also none other than the virtue of the mind-and-heart. And consciousness (literally, “knowing and perceiving”) is the work of wisdom, so we call it the virtue of the mind-and-heart. How can there be any doubt about this? The saying that “the evil (ak/o) of inborn ki is also the principle of human nature”111 is a harmful, weird statement, for which reason it has generated not one but many debates on this [idea of] principle since Master Cheng’s time.112 Generally speaking, human nature is compared to water as follows: That which is “clear” and peacefully flows is “the original nature of water.” It “becomes turbid” when it encounters muddy soil; its strong waves arise rapidly when it flows over rough or rocky places. However, this phenomenon is not “the original nature of water”; on the other hand, “we cannot say that this [i.e., turbid water or surging wave] is not water,” either. It is only due to the different conditions under which the water encounters other things. Likewise, the evilness of one’s inborn ki 113

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is not “the original essence of human nature.” On the other hand, how can we also say that it has nothing to do with the principle of human nature?114 In your letter you said that “the yin ki is produced from principle, but it becomes evil. Hence, it can be verified that evil is also [part of] human nature.”115 This is probably not true. In general, the saying “evil is yin” means that if good and bad things are distinguished from each other in such a way, we are simply bound by the same mode of reasoning. It is not that the yin physical dispositions that are produced from principle must be evil and, as a result, become evil in human beings and the myriad things. If one follows this mode of reasoning, the creation of evil also originates from human nature, and evil issues forth in competition with good. But can this be right? The saying that “the beginning of ki is none other than good” is intended to mean the origin from which ki appears; it does not mean the beginning of physical endowment. Basically, the ki has a daily beginning, a monthly beginning, a centennial beginning, and a dynastic beginning. This, however, only applies in regard to some general examples. The changing dynamics of what continuously flows in and out is beyond any limits; therefore, we have to understand the term “beginning” flexibly, in certain cases especially so when appropriate. A particular thing cannot be pinpointed as the beginning of some ki; frankly, if we insist on being fixed on only one place [as the beginning], then we do not get a penetrating understanding and will therefore find it difficult to discuss the subtle mystery of cosmic transformation. According to Master Zhu, Master Cheng’s theory that “the mind is originally good”116 is somewhat unreasonable. Generally speaking, the socalled mind already consists of i and ki together, so it is not possible for the ki not to be mixed within the mind. Therefore, human beings commonly have the root of non-good (pulsŏn/bushan; also translated as “evil”) already existing inside the mind, without having to wait for the arousing [of the mind] due to intellectual thinking and physical acting. How can this be even called good (sŏn/shan)? This is why Cheng Yi’s saying is thought to be “unreasonable” [according to Zhu Xi]. However, if spoken of regarding the beginning, then the mind is not yet aroused. In this case, the original mind-in-itself (literally, “the mind’s original substance”) is empty [of emotions and desires] and illuminating,117 so it truly does not have any evil [attributes] because ki has not yet acted. When this matter was discussed the other day, I clarified Master Cheng’s intended meaning especially by referring to the original mind-in-itself; however, I can now see that it was not correct to continuously insist that Master Cheng’s saying is unreasonable.



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Without human nature nothing can get manifested; this is identical to saying that without water no waves will appear. In this regard, your statement that “ki is subject to its life and death, whereas i is not” is correct. Your analogical view of the sunlight shining on things is also good. However, there is a time when there is no sunlight; this is because of the sun’s shape. Regarding principle, it has neither sound nor smell, neither particularity nor body, and neither limit nor entirety. There will not be any time when it does not exist. Śākyamuni [Buddha] did not understand that “human nature is principle”;118 this is why he just talked about the soul and spiritual awakening by relating them to principle. He was referring to that which does not vanish after death, or that which passes away upon death but returns again.119 Alas, how can there be any such principle?

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9. Reply Letter [sixth] to Chŏng Chajung Last month my nephew [Yi] Kŏn120 gave me your letter, including some good news about your well-being there. Will you be able to go back to [your study cabin in] the mountain after the Dano seasonal holiday? Hwang has an extremely unfortunate life and also fooled the world by having an unworthy name while becoming older and more ill.121 However, I recently received twice in a month the king’s call to serve [in the government] because my unworthy name has been known to His Majesty. I’m surprised as well as afraid, so I do not know what to do about this matter. Despite my shyness, I initially thought about dashing to Seoul [to honor His Majesty’s request], but my abdominal pain became more severe and I found it rather difficult to be transported there by carriage. I also felt that my mind was going through some extreme dilemma. As a result, I sent a letter to decline and apologize to His Majesty, together with [an expression of] my willingness to die ten thousand times. I hear that my decision might cause problems, so I now realize that it [my demurral] was deeply wrong. I still do not know what to do. I worry about it day and night and am waiting to be punished for it. Decisions like this about whether to serve in high public office or retire at home are very difficult indeed! What should I do? I understand that you will be waiting for my reply to your latest letter. I am embarrassed and greatly regret my difficulty in writing under these circumstances. Your letter said, “I have eventually understood that the reason for experiencing a lot of regret after completing one’s work is the lack of effort at practice” and “one cannot complete ‘the investigation of things’ and ‘the extension of knowledge’122 by studying for a few months or one or two years; therefore, we can understand that one’s desire to accomplish this quickly will only obstruct the development of his learning.” I now see the intended meaning of your more enthusiastic effort at learning. The foundation of learning is therefore like this: If you devote extra effort like [the old saying goes] “do not give up when not yet understood,”123 you can finally transform even those physical dispositions that resisted any change for several decades. And wouldn’t it also enable you to finally realize the Way that is hard to understand? A man like Hwang [me] understands the meaning of this truth, but I cannot entirely keep it up with hard work due to my illness, which is Chasŏngnok 1:18a–19a (3 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 161–162.



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becoming worse every day. So I am afraid that the words I am exchanging with my friends and colleagues might become meaningless. As I go over the daily things that I dealt with in those days, there were so many occasions when the self was lost due to my overwhelmingly wrong habits. In your letter you said: “I know how difficult it is to get on in the world”; “I regret strictness and tightness regarding the norms of conduct”; and “the internal [life] changes if the external becomes slackened.” These are not small defects in us; we have to fix them quickly, but it is not an easy task. Regarding the language alone as an example, its complications are identical to what you have said in your letter. Likewise, one cannot succeed [in learning and self-cultivation] if one tries to manipulate oneself forcefully [if one is unwilling]. It is only through reverence (kyŏng/jing) that one will not lose the original mind and profoundly “cultivate oneself daily,”124 so that one does not regard things too lightly or easily and not overdo excessively. If this is “done over a long period of time”125 and eventually reaches a well-mastered level of doing things, then one will naturally have no occasion to lose it [the mind], and also will fit into its due measure and degree in dealing with others. Even in an unsuitable situation, people will not blame me much or will not treat me in a rude manner. What you do think? I now end here, wishing you only a precious and dedicated self-cultivation during this autumn’s cool weather.

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10. Reply Letter [seventh] to Chŏng Chajung Hwang’s [my] disease has been unstable, cycling between being worse and improving. My eyes are getting bad due to aging, so I now cannot see small scripts clearly. Occasionally one or two students come to see me and ask questions, but I feel that we cannot be any help to each other because they are all only studying for government service examinations. Kim Myŏngwŏn126 of Hansŏng has already arrived here [at my academy] and is now studying the Book of Changes. Although the study of numbers originates from the Neo-Confucian school of human nature and principle and also helps learning and self-cultivation, it is neither close to nor crucial for one’s daily effort at cultivating the body and mind. After discussing several hexagrams daily, you get tired and fed up and also lose the energy necessary for studying other texts, thereby allowing many days to go by. I promptly received and read your latest letter, but I could not reply quickly in a careless way. It is very embarrassing [that I did not reply sooner]. Moreover, your letter implied that you have already self-realized this principle [of learning]. Your saying “flowing and acting in daily life” is unlimited because it relates to so many things; examples are truly diverse and unlimited, ranging from serving parents to ten thousand affairs and ten thousand things. So without one’s utmost effort at the “investigation of principles” and “abiding in reverence” (kŏgyŏng/jijing),127 it is indeed hard to achieve everything satisfactorily when dealing with numerous diverse things one by one. Accordingly, if we look at the way people in the past pursued learning, they did not tolerate even short breaks, working hard and self-reflecting without taking it easy. However, this, too, would have naturally benefitted from following the steps of knowing and acting only after experiencing the process of one’s full effort over and over for a long time. As I carefully consider your case, your approach to this [Confucian] learning seems to reveal “some flaw in seeking it too quickly.”128 You seem to think it is hard to pursue because you are never able to overcome arguing for a quick outcome. If you do not stop this, perhaps you will immediately indulge in selfish intension and will rather harm the truth of morality. Isn’t this a major flaw? Moreover, the duty of serving one’s parents is bestowed by heaven, and its principle pervades everywhere. If you contemplate its appropriChasŏngnok 1:19a–21b (6 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 162–163.



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ateness from ancient times to the present and progressively practice it [one’s filial duty] in a warmly gentle and respectful way together with the utmost sincerity, then how can this virtue, on the higher level, ever oppose parental views or, on the lower level, surprise you and make other people in the family think of you strange? The reason why one cannot overcome thinking about “opposing parental views or becoming surprised and being regarded as strange” is likely because one tries to attain this practice [serving parents] in a very rushed and highly unnatural manner. Is it also not because one does not really understand the appropriateness of serving parents and therefore fails to practice it consistently, thereby revealing one’s intended selfish purpose to others? It is fundamentally impossible that you would not self-reflect and criticize yourself when you failed to get it properly after practicing it. However, doing what you said in your letter is very excessive [and therefore wrong]. If family is managed in this way, you will certainly worry about it in the same way you have mentioned. Zhang Zai said, “How can I ever ask other people to serve my own parents and carry out my ancestral rites?”129 Making food by yourself for your parents is indeed a subtly important part of serving them. If you advise quitting it merely because of its interference with your learning effort, you are deviating from the original meaning of Confucian teaching that “When you have energy to spare [from fulfilling your moral life], devote it to learning.”130 Due to the present world’s declining customs and etiquette, the sons who actually practice this [duty of serving parents] are rare; so, if you start preparing meals for your parents all of a sudden one morning, it will probably make you feel uncomfortable with your parents’ wish. In this case, you have to reasonably and consistently find out what to do so that you can develop it into a daily routine. In other words, one has to so completely ensure that one devotes one’s mind-and-heart that there is no occasion for disobeying one’s parents’ views. However, if one acts thoughtlessly all of a sudden and this instead causes one to go wrong or disobey, then one’s action, although good, is probably not the Way that nourishes true intentions [will power]. Even though my lamentation, [which is] like “a tree wishing to be peaceful but the wind does not stop,”131 reaches the end of heaven, I have no place to express it. Since you have consulted me, I would not dare avoid this lamentation myself; accordingly, I would like to say that I deeply regret answering you recklessly. What you have said about “the due degree and measure of holding and preserving” as well as about “the defect of avoiding the essential or trying to achieve it too quickly”132 is obviously reasonable. Hwang, too, knew about this to some extent but has not accomplished even one thing yet because I did not maintain good effort at

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practice;133 I don’t have anything else to add to this matter. All depends only on whether or not you, sir (kong/gong),134 work hard to practice it to the utmost. I could not figure out Qiu Qiongshan’s views well.135 In general, since the three dynasties [in China], declining moral principles among Confucian scholars were inferior to a few cultivated men’s virtues in the Song dynasty. [Master] Qiongshan himself did not discuss anything in this context, so he was also narrow-minded.136 I therefore wanted to discuss this subject, but because I’m afraid that my explanation would be very lengthy here, I am not in a situation to do so. I do not know about what you have said in the letter you gave to Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk.137 Can you forward it to me at a later date? In case by any chance he replies to you, I also hope that you can show me both letters. Hwang loves this man and regards him very highly; I therefore think that the beginning and end of his character will not contradict each other. It is simply that since I have come back to my hometown, I have received only one letter from him. He’s been silent since then; I think that this is obviously due to some unavoidable reason, not because there is anything wrong with this person. When you go to Seoul next time, please see Kyŏngsŏk even if only once and, on my behalf, give him this brief message. You are still a scholar who does not want to do a government official’s work, and I have already quit and retired from it. Let’s say that there is a colleague who has just started a new official position. If you intentionally approach this person too quickly and in an excessively friendly way because you like him and regard him very highly, then you might not be able to avoid making a regrettable mistake. This, too, should not be something that we do not know about. So the reason why I advised you before is that I was concerned with this matter. I certainly do not intend to create any division among friends who share moral principles.



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11. Reply Letter [eighth] to Chŏng Chajung Hwang is aging and my health is worsening every day. Although I have not forgotten my previous effort at study, I now tire easily, insofar as my health is becoming weaker. I am just afraid every morning and evening because I cannot strengthen my study effort by myself. Kwŏn Homun138 is with my nephew [Yi] Kyo139 on Ch’ŏngryang Mountain [in Andong], and Kwŏn Ch’unran140 is staying at the Kosan Mountain cottage141 with my grandson, [Yi] Chongdo. This rocky site is not near to my place, and if the valley road gets covered by icy snow, it becomes very difficult to get there. Even if you come, you will not actually benefit from being here; however, if you remain at the rocky site, it is definitely less suitable due to this problem [of not getting any benefit]. It is said that learning is not something that can be reached in one footstep. Truly so. According to you [though], “Previously, the accomplishment [of learning] was expected in one or two years.” If you think this way, you are really inconsistent and contradictory. This learning is certainly the work of a lifetime; therefore, even if one reaches the level of [wisdom attained by] Yanzi and Zengzi,142 one cannot dare say that one has finished it completely. By contrast, how much is this so for people who are way below that [same] level? I have been concerned about my mind’s [declining] vital energy (ki) more than my earlier fear of getting attacked by a tiger. [In my previous letters,] I already gave you my remedial words [to fix your learning] several times,143 but there has been no good result. Why are you then asking me once again how to fix your learning? You know where this defect has occurred; you know it by yourself. So if you seek to treat it as external to the mind, it will become more serious. In this case, your effort cannot overcome it, and you will become very frustrated, thereby generating an even greater failure. Furthermore, regarding Confucian learning, you already know its general context as well as its entrance gate, so I think that you do not need to search for it forcefully or manipulate it in the typical way.144 The study of “holding it [the mind] and preserving it” and “self-reflection” should not be assumed merely for the sake of convenience. You just need to see the bright and clear aspects of daily living, keep thinking considerately, and in doing so cultivate yourself by emptying the mind [of selfishness] and nourishing and resting it comfortably and pleasantly. Chasŏngnok 21b–25a (8 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 163–165.

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This is similar to what should be done according to the teaching in Master Zhu’s Tiaoxi zhen (K. Chosikjam; Admonitions for harmonizing and resting);145 [that is,] generally speaking there is an improvement not only in the learning defect in the mind over a long period of time but also in the reality of self-cultivation, [wherein] holding and preserving will gain power from it. The reason why “the study of holding it [the mind] and preserving it” and self-reflection should not be assumed merely for the sake of convenience is not that a scholar always pushes himself in order to follow this teaching. It is rather because a defect in his mind can be cured and become comfortable only after practicing [this teaching properly]. As you know, this principle of the Way recognizes no separation between the inside and the outside; in other words, to “be watchful over” the external life means to “cultivate the internal life.”146 Therefore, at an earlier time the school of Confucius did not mention mind cultivation (simhak/xinxue) in particular, but simhak is [naturally] implied within the school.147 Hwang, too, did not know about this truth before because I did not have any mentor to lead me to realize it; helpless, I have lost several decades, finally giving up because I did not know the truth and [could] only continue worrying about this flaw in my mind. I am [still] suffering and deeply regret all of this. You, sir,148 should obviously be aware of this example and be watchful over it. “Transforming physical-psychological dispositions (kijil/qizhi) depends on myself, not other people.” This is fundamentally a teaching that cannot be changed. However, how can there be any lack of benefit from training rules and “cutting-and-polishing” standards at a place where one [studies] daily with a rigorous master and outstanding colleagues? Kyŏngso149 is really a “good human being” but I am also saddened because he is not a learned person. There are still many scholars and students in our town, but all of them are obsessively busy preparing themselves for government service examinations. Therefore, their reading efforts are very hurried, for which reason they have no intention whatsoever of pausing for a moment (literally, “to turn one’s head and stop going”) to properly understand and maintain the reason for this work. Even Cho Sagyŏng150 and his group of scholars had some intention [of doing so]; however, they also could not avoid the trouble of rushing their study (literally, “moving to here or losing from there”). So when we meet, I just do not have any teaching for them, and I see no real mutual advantage for us. Only Yi Taeyong151 has been working diligently on Zhu Xi’s works and has already finished [hand-copying] them; he is now checking and thinking carefully about every page, thereby arriving at the deeper level of truth. There is also Kim



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Tonsŏ,152 who always puts his greatest effort into learning by searching for the right meaning and focuses his thinking on Zhu Xi’s writings. However, he met with a severe misfortune153 and has long been enduring a lot of suffering preventing him from dedicating himself to study again. This is indeed heartbreaking! Buying farmland because one is poor is fundamentally not something that greatly damages the principle [of life]. When analyzing its high or low price, one considers the ways in which it is deficient and exceeding [one’s expectations] by following the standards; in principle, this practice, too, is not one that can be challenged.154 It is only that the mind’s intention to benefit oneself while harming others becomes the root of the difference between [the sage-emperor] Shun and a robber. Accordingly, one has to understand that difference quickly and precisely and be able to discern the word “righteousness” and the word “profit”; in this way, he avoids being an inferior person and transforms himself into a cultivated person (kunja/junzi).155 You do not need to think that refraining from purchasing [farm land] must be a lofty act. However, if these kinds of [business] affairs engage your mind for a long time, your mind will easily become sullied and fall into the lower realm. You must be passionately concerned with this matter lest you fall into it. What you said about the substance and function [of the mind] is very good. Commiseration is an emotion (chŏng/qing), and its unmanifested/ unaroused state (mibal/weifa) is human nature.156 In other words, the saying that “when human nature moves and acts, it becomes feelings/emotions” is also correct in such a context. How is it possible that human nature would move and act independently outside the feelings and emotions? The three words “letting go,” “losing,” and “disappearing”157 are all used in referring to that which is already aroused (ibal/yifa). However, if “the vital energy (ki/qi) during the night cannot sufficiently preserve [the original mind],”158 then the original substance [of the mind]—which is brightly illuminating and purely one—will become very dark and ­damaged. So how can it possibly be right to say that the mind did not disappear? Yanping had a theory of “no leading role [by the mind].”159 Moreover, Master Zhu [Xi] said by citing the Book of Music that it is the natural principle that one’s likes and dislikes disappear regardless depending on their due degrees. Things are created perpetually day and night, and so [a thing] does not end even after disappearing and is certain to become manifest [again] in reaction to some stimulus. It is just as if it had not disappeared earlier [when it becomes manifest again]. You have said that if the mind really realizes it is “letting go,” it is actually present. This, too, was already discussed by the former Confu-

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cians, and your sayings are all similar. However, the reason the saying “bending and then straightening” is compared with the saying that “the past is gone and the future continues” is not necessarily to elaborate on it. The suspicion that You Dingfu160 betrayed his masters [the Cheng brothers] and became attracted to Buddhism (literally, “followed the barbarian warriors”) has here reached its highest level. If you met Mencius, his exclamation “You are indeed different from Zengzi [Confucius’ disciple]!” would apply to Chen Xiang and others like him.161 This is extraordinary and lamentable. When Zhu Xi first felt about Chen Anqing162 [that he was as an outstanding disciple], he was very pleased [with Chen’s accomplishment] and frequently praised him among Zhu’s friends and colleagues because Chen’s scholarship demonstrated excellence in debate and explication to the extent that it was very rare for other, if any, students to attain his level. Unfortunately, however, Chen was limited to his area of excellence and did not much care about [making an] effort at actual practice [self-cultivation],163 which is implied in the saying that wise persons “go beyond it [the Way].”164 One day, the master [Zhu Xi] realized Chen’s flaw and wanted to reveal it and explain it during his lecture, but he ended up hiding it. If we consider this story carefully, the subtlety of cultivating the mind is not a minor issue; nonetheless, this problem was not just because of its lack of expression in meaning. For Master Zhu, the saying that “acting and knowing are in opposition to each other” therefore does not apply to the Chen Anqing case only; [in other words,] it seems that he generally wanted to caution and encourage scholars and students by reminding them about this problem. Earlier, Hwang [I] had considered this to be strange: Even though Master Zhu illuminated something that the [two] Cheng brothers school did not understand, the merit of accomplishment among Master Zhu’s disciples did not reach the level attained by people in the Cheng school. This is similar to the case where Mencius illuminated what the former sages did not know, but his disciples, including Wan Zhang and GongSun Chou,165 could not reach the level [of self-cultivation] practiced by [Zi]you and [Zi]xia [two of Confucius’ disciples]. I am not exactly sure why this is so. Nonetheless, it is necessary to talk about one great work in transmitting the Way. Frankly, how can the greatness of merit in revealing the Way be merely the effort of one person, Zhu Xi? Over each historical period, the [Confucian] school had its followers who attained great merit according to their talents and skills. It is impossible even to count how many outstanding Confucians there were, but they all transmitted [the Way] by giving to and taking from one another, and eventually we arrived at the Yuan and Ming dynasties without ever ending the long list



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of these people who contributed to establishing the Confucian tradition. Indeed, this should not be something we do not know.166 The Hu Zhitang167 story was a major unusual case in the realm of human relationships, and its circumstances were not quite comfortable for him. However, he had Wending168 as his father, and his teachers and colleagues were great, worthy men, so his human character was extremely upright and would follow only the right path. How could he dare act without proper manners and etiquette? The way that Hu Zhitang disliked his biological mother after becoming an adopted son of his older uncle’s wife is perhaps similar in meaning to the case of a king who is enthroned to rule but does not bother taking good care of his family and relatives. Therefore, it was impossible for Hu not to [dislike his biological mother]. Have you received any reply from Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk?169 Last time, when he sent me a letter through my eldest son, Chun, he said, “I quit studying because of a serious illness I’ve been suffering from for several years. And I am also going through more difficulty due to the fact that I have unexpectedly taken up an official government position. Now that my health has started to improve a bit, I am able to find my old books and read them little by little.” I wanted to forward this letter to you as well, but I regret that I cannot simply because, although I tried, I could not find it.

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12. Reply Letter to Disciple Kwŏn Homun170 on Discussing “Find Joy in Mountains” and “Find Joy in Streams” The sagely saying to “find joy in mountains” and “find joy in streams”171 does not mean that the mountains are benevolence (in/ren; also “humanheartedness”) and the streams are wisdom (chi/zhi), or that human beings, mountains, and streams originally have one [the same] type of nature. It just means that benevolent people are similar to the mountains, so they find joy in them; wise people are similar to the streams, so they find joy in them.172 In other words, by using the word “similar” (ryu/lei) here,173 we are referring to the benevolent or wise person’s character and intended thoughts. If we look at the Zhuzi jizhu (Collected commentaries by Master Zhu Xi),174 [we find that] it also used the word “similar” (sa/si)175 in interpreting two examples of the subject matter below, so we can see the meaning of this word here. Accordingly, in the sentences that follow, the Collected Commentaries talks about the teaching of “being active” and “being tranquil” in terms of “substance” [of the teaching], as well as about the meaning of “joy” and “long life” in terms of “efficacy.”176 Overall, this did not actually explain the original principle of benevolence or wisdom.177 I realize that the principle of benevolence or wisdom is subtle and people could not easily understand it; therefore, the sage’s [Confucius’] intended meaning was to teach them about the character and thoughts [of benevolent and wise people]178 or the substance and efficacy of his teaching by repeating and describing these virtues of benevolence and wisdom. In this way, I think, people seek out the practicality of his teaching through such a framework so as to follow the instructed standard and model to the utmost. I therefore believe that the sage’s teaching was not intended merely to encourage people to go to mountains or water but to seek benevolence or wisdom, respectively. I think that if you want to properly understand the meaning of each of these two joys, you must look at the character and thoughts of benevolent and wise people. If one wishes to seek their character and thoughts, how can one ever seek other things? By contrast, one has to seek [these character and thoughts] within one’s own mind and attain their truth. Frankly, if the truth of benevolence and wisdom fills up my mind-and-heart and is expressed externally, then “finding joy in mountains” or “finding joy in water” will be naturally fulfilled without waiting to seek it diligently. Not knowing how to make a good effort at this, I might say that I only look Chasŏngnok 1:25a–27a (5 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 165–166.



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meaninglessly at what is high and green,179 as if to seek the wise person’s joy in such a way; and I might also say that to look at what is strongly overflowing,180 as if to seek the wise person’s joy in such a way, is meaningless. I fear that this way is very distant and dim because the more I seek, the farther off it becomes. Accordingly, it is correct to say that benevolent people are “similar to” mountains; however, if we say [incorrectly] that benevolence is the original nature of mountains, then benevolence [in itself] is not the complete reason why it is called benevolence. Likewise, it is correct to say that the wise person is “similar to” water; however, if we say that wisdom is the original nature of water, then wisdom [in itself] is not the original meaning of the reason why it has been termed “wisdom.” I read your letter in detail. Its first mistake is that, although you know the oneness of the natures of human beings and mountains and water, you do not understand how they are different when they are discussed separately. Its second mistake is your saying that one practices the Way of benevolence and wisdom by experiencing the “activity” and “tranquility” of mountains and water181 is not the original meaning of the sage’s teaching. If you see these two mistakes, correct them and benefit from studying explanations given repeatedly in Zhu Xi’s Collected Commentaries; you will then be able to understand that my points are not wrong. Moreover, if I also have to talk about the reality of benevolence and wisdom through a lecture, you must first remove entirely all bad habits—such as forceful searching, pondering, and “manipulating”—that are based selfish intentions.182 Upon reaching the level at which the sages and worthies taught benevolence and wisdom, you should then repeat and experience it by means of thorough reading and close thinking after emptying your mind [of selfish intentions] and straightening your vital energy (ki). Hence, if you clearly understand the meaning and distinctiveness of each of the two words, you will not experience any doubt because the teaching of sages and worthies fits nicely with your mind, nature, and feelings and emotions. Moreover, you would have to consult many explanations and keenly understand their meaning if you are to extend this meaning to daily life and really practice it. In other words, this is none other than the work of “preserving mindand-heart through reverence”183 and of reading books closely. On the other hand, however, there is some effort expected and some steps to be followed. If you do not give your full energy and effort, being patient with difficulty and overcoming its onerous complication, then it would be hard just to look over the fence. How, then, can you ever enter into the house? I have grown old but generally heard and learned about these sorts of things after living my whole life in a certain way. I wished every day

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to reach there [to complete self-cultivation] by believing in the Confucian scriptural tradition, but I am the one who has failed to do so.184 The reason why I dare not refuse to reply to your letter and questions is that, out of moral obligation, I could not hide [my thoughts] from you, my disciple. I do not know whether you will trust this.



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13. Reply Letter to Kim Tonsŏ185 The letter you sent me has a list of questions whose right answers are subtle, so Hwang [I] found it rather difficult to comprehend them due to my shallow knowledge. Moreover, since I had accidentally lost that part of your letter containing these questions, I could not reply to you for a long time. I finally found it recently and would now like to write to you by reviewing one question item at a time with a footnote and ask you presumptuously whether my opinions are right or wrong on the basis of old sayings [i.e., sagely teachings]. If you find any unreasonable points, please write back to me and I will be fortunate to receive these points.. In general, when people study they just have to follow reverence186 as the master of learning and should not lose it while being active or tranquil, regardless of whether or not they are dealing with daily affairs intentionally. The mind in itself (literally, “the substance of the mind”) is empty yet illuminating, and its original essence is very pure because thoughts have yet to develop. When one’s thoughts are already aroused, one’s tenuous worries will be reduced gradually because moral principles emerge clearly while material cravings withdraw. One will become successful as one’s effort builds up slowly. This is a significant method of learning. If we do not pursue such a method but want to affirm that thoughts naturally arise from dealing with things, then this implies that we have absolutely no thoughts when there are no phenomena. If we say that thinking with intention harms the mind-and-heart, this must mean that there is no harm done to the mind-and-heart when we think like sages without having any intention in the same way they do. Perhaps this is all wrong because wishing to stop thinking is closer to [the Daoist method of] “forgetting in sitting” (chwamang),187 and wishing to think without any intention is similar to the situation where ordinary people below the great [Confucian] worthies could not quickly advance [their learning] and arrive [at the truth]. This is not to mention your instruction that “selfish intentions arise as soon as thinking begins.” This certainly may be so if we talk about the people whose original minds have fallen into bad habits. On the other hand, if moral principles are being discussed, how can we be [at all] correct in saying that the arousal of selfish intentions is a wrong way of thinking? Mencius said, “The entity of the mind-and-heart can think. However, it will get the result only if it thinks; otherwise, it will not get the result. . . . If we first establish our stand on greater things, then smaller Chasŏngnok 1:27a–37a (21 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 166–171.

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things cannot displace them.”188 Accordingly, the reason why people generally create selfish intentions is that they do not think rightly. On the other hand, you said that “selfish intentions exist immediately after thinking”; in my opinion, however, the meaning of your statement is unclear. You have questioned the teaching that when “thinking to see clearly,” “thinking to hear acutely,” and so on,189 are integrated and done simultaneously, we can think of one thing but not two things. This is a real question, and your saying that each sustained effort in thinking will fit its principle naturally is also very good. Nonetheless, as you said, “When one finally thinks of a particular phenomenon, there is no more room for thinking in response to other things.” This, too, means that the mind does not have two types of function; it is therefore obviously about one’s effort at “single-mindedness” (literally, “concentrating on one thing”).190 However, if we constantly explain it like this, it might lead to some unreasonable situations as well. Let us say that people see and hear things similarly, [that they] also specifically work hard to properly control their hearing but do not watch over seeing at all. In this case, if they are only devoted to moving their hands while letting their foot movements be disorderly, then how is this different from [the case of] gaining one thing and losing another in one’s work [dealing with things]? When one allows disorder without watching over it, we can know for certain that the mind is inflexible and not very penetrating in responding or not responding to this work. In other words, the mind has lost its ability to function. If we deal with the ten thousand changes of phenomena in this way, how can the mind maintain its “due degree and measure”? Therefore, I think that Master Cheng’s teaching that “nine-fold thinking means to concentrate on each part of this thinking individually”191 simply implies that the mind has no ability to have two functions when pursuing one phenomenon. If we have the situation of dealing with many phenomena repeatedly, we may change our mind back and forth in a chaotic manner. In this case, one will have disorderly thoughts with sudden deliberating and reacting; how can this be right? It is only when the mind as the master [of the self] remains firmly at the center of numerous phenomena that its inner workings are revealed through dealing with phenomena, the four-part body knows these inner workings silently, and no details are missed. This is possible because the people’s mind is generally “empty and illuminating,”192 so we cannot comprehend it since it is originally ready with ten thousand principles and its consciousness is not dim even before feelings/emotions are aroused or before dealing with things. If one is really cultivating oneself



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in daily life, then there exists the subtle truth of shining over all and reacting extensively without waiting merely to think about each and every thing. It is said, When the musician Mien came to the steps, the Master [Confucius] said “you have reached the steps”; when he came to the mat, the Master said “you have reached the mat.” And when everyone was seated, he told the musician, “This is so-and-so here and that is so-and-so there.”193

This saying emphasizes “thinking to speak conscientiously.”194 It does not necessarily combine “thinking to see clearly”195 simultaneously, but seeing will naturally follow its “due degree and measure.” When Confucius was summoned by his lord to act as usher, his face took on a serious expression and his step became brisk. When he bowed to colleagues, stretching out his hands to the left or to the right, his robes followed his movements without being disarranged.196

This saying emphasizes especially “thinking to act with reverence.”197 It does not necessarily combine one’s “facial expression,” “personal appearance,”198 and hands and feet simultaneously, but each naturally corresponds to its “due degree and measure” while acting. This is not so for the sages only; hence, we cannot say that it does not apply to “those people below average.”199 There are certain differences between the pure and the polluted or between the shallow and the deep depending on our inborn and cultivated dispositions. Accordingly, when Lü Ziyue200 raised the question of whether “concentrating on one” and “concentrating on phenomena” are not identical, Master Zhu [Xi] answered, “Concentrating on one” means to do one especially. Without phenomena, it [the mind] does not rush to action excessively because it remains deep, quiet, and tranquil; with phenomena, it follows them and responds to them, although it does not reach other things. In other words, “concentrating on phenomena” is therefore the purpose for “concentrating on one.” But being stubbornly attached [to one thing] causes selfish thinking; things may have gone already, but the mind is unable to give them up. In this case, the body is here, whereas the mind is there. Hence, we have an incoherent, chaotic, and frequently changing situation, which is not only different from, but directly opposes, the work of “concentrating on one” without losing focus.201

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In this regard, I deeply considered the meaning of [the point you made in] your letter [that] one can govern ten thousands, but the ten thousands cannot command one. Accordingly, if the mind can master “doing one especially,” it will attain its due degree and measure according to each phenomenon without necessarily having to think. This is what Master Zhu Xi said above. It has been said that in focusing on just one phenomenon, with no spare time for thinking about other things, we probably cannot avoid causing harm to this phenomenon. As Master Zhu also said later, this is the same as selfish thinking with “being stubbornly attached [to one thing],” thereby leading to the defect of being “incoherent, chaotic, and frequently changing.” We should not let phenomena be inside the mind, regardless of whether they are good or evil, big or small, and so on; the words “to be” (yu/you) in this sentence mean potentially causing harm by being stubbornly stuck in one place. The mind’s various flaws, such as calculating merit and profit by means of “doing with [selfish] expectation” or “selfish effort to help it grow,”202 all arise from this; therefore, we should not allow it “to be” so. Teachings like the “three-fold self-reflection”203 are about letting the mind do it. This is what Mencius meant by the term “to be” when he said, “You must be working at it.”204 So how can we possibly get rid of this? If we were to do so, we would have to give up the sagely teaching of Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang to “Remain refined and single-minded: hold fast the Mean,”205 as well as Yan Yuan’s and Zhonggong’s reply [to Confucius], “May I put your teaching into practice?”206 Consequently, must we then become like Laozi or Śākyamuni after reaching [the realm of] “fireless ash” or “total annihilation,”207 so as to fulfill our way of learning to the utmost? How dare we ever pursue such a way ever? Nonetheless, it is difficult to understand this one word, “phenomenon” (sa/shi; also “affair” or “work”). As Master Yanping said,208 it is neither intended nor unintended in the mind; in other words, this saying is about the meaning of the word “phenomenon.” When tranquil, cultivate the original essence of heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli) daily; when active, remove the emerging sprouts of ordinary human desires (inyok/ renyu; cravings).209 However, if you build your true learning with continuous effort for a long time in order to make it pure and skillful, then the tranquil becomes emptied and the active becomes orderly. In this case, the mind remains truly self-aware and calm, so disorderly and perplexed thoughts will not cause worry or anxiety. As you know, Daoist groups such as Zhuangzi’s followers and Liezi’s followers simply dislike dealing with phenomena and only know how to seek tranquility. They therefore wish only to reach the ultimate level of



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the Way by falling into “forgetting in sitting” (chwamang/zuowang).210 Not only do they not understand that the mind penetrates through movement and tranquility thereby embracing things and phenomena, but they also intend to deliberately forget it. The more this is so, the more chaotic and defective their minds will become. As they attempt to cut their minds off, they wander onto a wicked and imprudent path and then rush to a vast realm. Hence, “forgetting in sitting” (chwamang) is identical to “sitting and [the mind] running away” (chwach’i);211 isn’t that right? According to your letter, “Be careful with this. As thoughts arise and vanish regularly at this time or at that time, one seeks to reach the level where wanton fantasy and distracting ideas suddenly disappear.” If you do so, you will not be able to avoid anxiety with the defect of “sitting and [the mind] running away.” This is why Master Cheng said, “For entering the Way, there is nothing more than reverence.”212 Mingdao [Cheng Hao] was “very reverential when he practiced calligraphy”; this is truly not because he needed to write either well or poorly.” He was “reverential at calligraphy, that’s all.”213 The success or failure of calligraphy is accordingly only a result of one’s talent and effort. This is also revealed through the [Mencian] teaching: “Always do without expectation. Never let it be out of your mind; make no selfish effort to help it grow (cho jang) either.”214 In other words, the sagely method of the mind215 is like so. This is not for calligraphic writing only. As Master Zhu Xi said, be one [consistent] at the center. If you lose your mind while brushing dots and strokes [in calligraphy], they become rough; if you seek beauty, you will become bewildered. In this regard, “Be one at the center” means reverence. The letter you sent me states that “it is unnecessary that scholars give their efforts to calligraphy.” I am afraid that this is not compatible with what Master Cheng [Hao] said. Furthermore, your letter suggests that “one may make it [calligraphy] bad intentionally”; this saying deviates even further from the meaning of Master Cheng’s saying. When you ride a horse, the natural scenery is right there, and you chant [natural] things with your mouth. This is just like your body and mind working closely together. Hence, how can we doubt the method of taking reverence as the master [a method akin to riding a horse in the natural scenery]?216 This simple message [i.e., the analogy of the harmonious body-and-mind relationship to the horse-and-rider relationship] is not much different from the situation wherein one wears when wearing clothes or one reads when reading something. It is also said that “the returning mind is already moving in front of a bird, although looking eastward without changing my view frequently.” Accordingly [as implied in this old Chinese poem], if one’s concentration on the mind as the master

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is inconsistent, then it may fly and rush [about] chasing things. This is similar to what is mentioned in the Huowen,217 [which says,] “Looking up at the sky and coveting a flying bird is like having the body here but [with] the mind running there.” If the body consisting of flesh and blood is not controlled, it is indeed the same as what you have said. Sir,218 your mind is the same as a bright mirror so that things passing by reflect themselves in it; it is not that the mirror follows the things [around] in order to make them be reflected in it. In general, the fact that things are reflected as they pass by is similar to the situation where the bright sun from the middle of the sky shines on ten thousand shapes [of things]. Shining on things by following them is similar to the situation where the sun follows a thing below it and then enters the shadow of a slope and underneath a shack. This means that the use of language may be similar yet vary greatly. So how can we doubt “this” by means of affirming “that”? In reading a paragraph, we have to look at which words are important. However, as your letter pointed out, it is troublesome to read a text with a mind occupied with thinking which words are important without knowing the greater meaning of that text. According to Master Zhu Xi’s reading method, if you follow the sequence and read only one thing thoroughly, think closely, remain fully engaged and delicately subtle, work hard over a long period of time, and if your effort remains deeply rooted, then you will find its true meaning and also arrive at its [true] importance. Regarding this language [of teaching], how can there be any defect of making up words or mixing them inappropriately? What you said in your letter may be similar to the situation of one wanting to rid the world of food after seeing someone choking. “When you go out, behave as if you were receiving a guest. When you work, do it as if you were assisting at a ritual.”219 You said you are afraid that this might cause harm to the mind. Your opinion is quite wrong. Were your line of reasoning true, then what ancient sages and worthies said in the classics—such as “fearing and being careful as if standing [beside a deep river] or stepping [on thin ice]” and “[cultivate people] fearing day and night”—would be harmful to the mind. Do we get our mindand-hearts cultivated only after doing bad things like the following? “Yüan Jang [Yuan Rang] sat waiting [for Confucius] with his legs spread wide”;220 “[the Daoist] Zhuang Zhou’s destruction of ritual propriety”;221 or “[Su] Dongpo asked when to destroy the word reverence.” [The meaning of Confucius’ teaching] “Seeking [virtue] within oneself; seeking it in others”222 is the final divergence between a cultivated person and an inferior person in terms of exercising the mind-and-heart. Exploring one’s own good and evil after seeing other people’s good and



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evil is just like the situation where the cultivated person would “turn around and seek [the cause of failure] within himself,”223 “move over to the good and fix his fault,” check again, and rectify himself. How can any selfish views be allowed in this way? One hates to “compare oneself with others”224 when not working hard on self-cultivation, and one also compares his own pros and cons with others’ when neglecting self-control as his mind rushes externally [to material things]; this [selfish behavior] is obviously not the same as [the Confucian way of] exercising the mind in “thinking to become equal [to wise people]”225 as well as “rebuking oneself [after realizing one’s fault].”226 You are very reasonable to have challenged two statements you quoted from Master Zhu Xi and Yuezheng Zichun. [As you stated,] Master Zhu Xi said, “The sage looks at the world as one family and all inside the country as one person. He will not forget this even for a day.”227 And Yuezheng Zichun said, “The cultivated person dare not forget [to serve] his parents even for the time it takes to raise his hand or lift his foot.”228 [You also asked] If one intentionally tries not to forget, then would it not cause harm to the mind-heart? It is difficult to understand the true meaning of this challenge. You ought to realize the essence of benevolence (in/ren; human-heartedness) by studying the Western Inscription (Xi ming) thoroughly and savoring its deep meaning;229 you would then know the meaning of these two teachings. In general, the benevolent person’s mind-and-heart is benevolent from the beginning and not because he remembers through consciously intending not to forget. However, it is also imperative that one attain rightness within one’s mind-heart and experience it intimately and genuinely so as to realize “Heaven as father, Earth as mother, all people as siblings, and all things as friends,”230 as well as the one true principle of serving parents and heaven by being compassionate in perfect harmony because there is no difference between inside and outside or between the near and the far. One finds nothing against this [teaching] when looking at things and does not allow any pause while breathing; one also realizes for the first time that this is reasonably said as one’s thinking becomes clear. Otherwise, even if one can say what [Yuezheng] Zichun did, one will end up being limited to filial actions. In the context of Master Zhu Xi’s view,231 it is far from the truth, addresses no mutual [human] relationships, and does not engage human emotions, to the extent that it would get caught in Mozi’s [wrong] doctrine of “integrated love.”232 Discussing other people’s strengths and weaknesses may not be a good idea because I’m afraid that it might increase their threatening [selfish] and heartless habits. However, if we truly discern right from wrong

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on the basis of [moral virtues such as] loyalty and love—which was occasionally discussed by Confucian sages and worthies since ancient times in terms of strengths and weaknesses of people—how can we entirely ban or abolish this tradition merely because it is basically said to be unpleasant? It is only to control the mind’s inclinations and situations. Master Cheng [Yi] said as much in discussing learning through “investigating things” (kyŏngmul/gewu).233 According to your letter, the word “present” (kŭm) is included in the word “ancient” (ko); however, if you read it in this way for the sake of convenience, then you will fall into selfish thoughts. This is wrong. Although the mind discerns right and wrong, it is not necessary to discuss this issue. In this regard, there may be a time when our minds can certainly do so, but it is not correct to establish a theoretical method that cannot be put into practice. Your saying that “always practicing what has already been learned interferes with the progress of reading” is troubling because it is directly caused by the mind’s desire for quick success.234 Seeking quick success [leaves] no time to learn traditional things and also no room for making one’s textual reading refined and skillful. If the beginning of one’s thinking is busy, one always feels chased by something and becomes self-negligent and forgetful of things, regardless of one’s original plan to study various texts broadly. As a result, one ends up becoming no different from those people who never read a book at all. After reflecting on today’s students and scholars, I find them stuck with such a defect [of learning]. So how can they really accomplish any work? Hwang, too, was just like them before, when I was preparing for the civil service examination. I was, moreover, lazy after that due to illness so that my study became quite worthless; I have wasted some years because of this. This year, as my health has become weaker, I have been unable to catch up with my study by doing extra work. I could not advise or assist our colleagues, students, and friends, and am even afraid to talk to them. Recently I realized that this trouble was more serious [than I had thought], for which reason I feel embarrassed in my heart and I am trying to overcome it.235 “What you have learned in the afternoon you should think about and interpret at night.” This is what Yanping236 taught to Huian [Zhu Xi], which will immediately benefit your effort from the first day. Regarding your saying “Do not welcome [excessively] when [a guest] comes; do not chase after [excessively] when [a guest] goes,” what you intended to argue is generally correct. By comparison, suppose the master of the house always stays at home and takes the lead in carrying out his family affairs. If a guest suddenly happens to visit, the master of the house may wait inside and greet the guest [when the guest reaches] the front



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yard; when the guest leaves, the master of the house does not leave the yard while bidding farewell to the guest. If practiced this way [properly], how can there be any harm done to home management, even though the master of the house offers greetings and farewells every day? On the other hand, suppose many guests were to come from the four directions in a hectic manner, and [the master of the house] would abruptly go out the front door in order to greet the guests from a far distance, treat them in the house frantically without any rest, and then quickly follow them when they leave in order offer farewells. In this case, no one is left at home to lead [family affairs], so bandits and burglars can break in and damage the house so badly that they will not have reason to look back and return for a lifetime. When there is no activity during the daily course of life, one cultivates his original foundation [human nature] externally by “being solemn and austere”237 in his thinking and always remains awake internally by “concentrating the mind on one thing.”238 Even when one particular thought appears to sprout, he blocks its selfishness immediately and preserves the moral principles; nonetheless, it would be wrong to intend to drop everything. Generally speaking, when there is no activity, one certainly has to practice “preserving and nourishing” in a peaceful manner.239 However, if one thinks because one must think about something and his thinking can remain single-minded without [his attention] running away, then this is movement in the midst of tranquility and [does] no harm to holding the mind firmly. Let us now talk about the method of “holding the mind” when there is no activity. On the one hand, to always be awake but rid of thoughts and consideration is about concentrating on tranquility with the desire for no movement. On the other hand, to not want to stop thinking and therefore not stop “the investigation of principles”240 is about being excessively occupied with movement so that there is no moment of tranquility. In other words, this is why Master Zhu Xi spoke [in his critique of Daoists and Buddhists] about “the defect of always being in a sleeping state without realizing [anything] or the defect of always acting without any pause.”241 This is certainly right. Regarding Master Zhu Xi’s “explanation of kneeling in sitting” (kwejwasŏl/guizuo shuo), he said, “The term ‘kneeling’ (kwe/gui) refers to your knees touching [resting on] the ground while keeping your waist and legs straight up and firm; whereas the term ‘sitting’ (chwa/zuo) means your knees are touching the ground and resting somewhat comfortably by sitting on your heels.”242 If so, today’s “rigid sitting” (wijwa/weizuo) is said to be the [same as the] old version of “rigid sitting,” and today’s “kneeling” (kwe/gui) is [the same as] what used to be the old version of

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“kneeling” (kwe/gui). In ancient times, there were no separate terms for “rigid sitting” and “sitting with the legs crossed” (panjwa/panzuo; also “sitting in the lotus posture”). If we were to discuss the old form of “sitting” and today’s “rigid sitting,” [we would note that] people in the old days probably learned how to sit in the corner of a room from an earlier age, when they began studying Elementary Learning,243 so they eventually had no difficulty [with rigid sitting] and felt comfortable with it after getting used to it. In citing the Daoist kneeling method for the repentance ritual, Master Zhu said that it is “practicable as a trained skill.” Nowadays we are unable to do what the people of olden times used to do skillfully and comfortably, which is why Master Zhu said that the panjwa (sitting with the legs crossed) would not cause any harm. Generally speaking, if you are “orderly” [and dignified] as well as “solemn and austere”244 after cultivating and re-collecting the self, then you may sometimes practice panjwa if necessary, although its result is not the same as that of being solemn and austere through wi (rigid sitting); nonetheless, it naturally would not harm the moral principles (literally, “principles of the Way”). It is therefore called “correct/proper sitting” (chŏngjwa/zhengzuo) or “upright sitting” (tanjwa/duanzuo), so one may practice it. Nonetheless, your letter also talked about “quiet sitting” (chŏngjwa/ jingzuo)245 without clearly explaining the difference between “sitting with the legs crossed” (panjwa) and “rigid sitting” (wijwa); it also talked about “upright sitting” as being neither wijwa nor panjwa. I do not see which method of sitting you were actually referring to. “Sitting on a wooden chair” (ŭijwa/yizuo) probably originates from the middle of the ancient times. According to the old tradition of propriety, when people had to sit they all sat on the ground, [which is why] their ancient clay figures place them on the ground. In this regard, Master Zhu Xi’s analysis of classical terminology is very thoughtful.246 The old saying “sitting like a ritual boy (sidong/shitong)”247 merely means one’s sitting is orderly, dignified, and reverential like the ritual boy, not that we should learn his method of sitting. Hwang [I], too, always had doubts about the “explanation of lying down haughtily on one’s back” part of the footnote to the saying that “when sleeping, he [Confucius] does not lie down like a corpse.”248 However, if we take this to refer to someone who is identical to a dead person, then it seems to indicate that he’s lying down with his eyes looking up. I once saw some ancient paintings and noticed that certain human figures are depicted lying on their sides, but I have not seen any [that show peo-



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ple] lying on their backs. Doesn’t this imply that people in ancient times believed that lying on one’s back while looking straight up was against propriety? Be that as it may, ordinary persons could not follow this custom, so I wonder if it was recorded specially in such a way because only Confucius was able to do so. It is not possible to analyze the statement “prayed on Ni Mountain.”249 Even if it happened, it is truly wrong to criticize Shuliang He250 in light of the right Way simply because a sagely son [Confucius] was to be born to him. Moreover, it is also improper for us to be suspicious of Confucius for revealing his father’s mistake by means of disclosing his words or examining Shuliang He’s actions. On the other hand, however, it is a truly obsequious act against propriety for a person of the upper class to pray to a mountain and river; nor is it reasonable to believe that in response to this prayer, she [Confucius’ mother-to-be] soon gave birth to a [future] sage. Hence, I have speculated that the saying that this resulted from “an illicit union”251 is simply unreliable nonsense [emanating] from among uncivilized people in the Qi state [1046–221 BCE] of ancient China. According to the ancient record, “the South Stars represent life, whereas the North Stars represent death.” Therefore, people all pray to the North Stars for life or for saving someone from dying. But I think this is only a wicked theory given by a fortune-teller. Qianlou’s prayer252 was relentless and offered according to custom and with the utmost human feeling; it is therefore not feasible to discuss whether this prayer was selfish or appropriate. What enabled the curing of his father’s disease was simply the inspiring effect of his filial piety.253 A filial son’s utmost sincerity can create extraordinarily auspicious changes by inspiring heaven and earth. There are numerous examples of this before and now, so there is no need at all to doubt it. Regarding what Master Zhu Xi referred to as “right rituals” (chŏngrye/ zhengli), the author probably made an error in recording these riutuals. The story about Zilu asking [his master Confucius] to pray is explained in the Jizhu (Collected commentaries [on the Analects]),254 for which reason we do not need to seek much more [explanation]. Examples like this imply that one prays for a sick person all on one’s own, without asking the sick person, because it is unavoidable not to do so [when the sick person is] one’s ruler or parent. We now hear that one prays for one’s wife, child, or sibling. This is intended merely to comfort one another by following a shaman’s customs; nor does this address people’s moral principles. It is destroying the right Way by being obsequious or rude to the ghosts and spirits. This subject is not easy to discuss; therefore, I am informing you

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further by quoting a relevant reply letter Master Zhu [Xi] wrote to his disciple Dong Deshu. I wonder what you think of it.* So far I have written in order to answer all of your questions. It is up to you to judge and sort out my views. As I read through your letter, I see that you assimilate things you hear while managing daily life. Your thinking is highly detailed according to your experience, and your understanding based on self-watchfulness is very accurate, so I can see real dedication in your effort. Nonetheless, you are in particular not yet moving forward with truly knowing and practicing the doctrine of “holding fast to reverence” (chikyŏng/qijing).255 Consequently, the objective of your effort deviates from the words and actions of Confucian sages and wise men. When in doubt you waver back and forth, and your effort becomes onerous by merely comparing and speculating about things. In short, you are not yet firmly committed to moving forward with this practice [holding fast to reverence] on a clear and plain basis. If you cannot develop yourself from the great foundation of learning, it eventually becomes rather difficult to achieve a fruitful result even after a good deal of trivial study; in this case, you will unfortunately turn to the method of Śākyamuni [Buddhism] or Laozi [Daoism]. As Master Zhu [Xi] advised [his disciple] Li Huishu, “Remove your ordinary cavalier manipulation; remove your ordinary cavalier language. Understand the meaning of the sentence ‘hold onto it and it will remain.’ ”256 This is obviously a remedy for your defect [of learning and cultivation]. I’ll be happy if you consider it.

* This letter appears in the Zhuzi daquan (Great compendium of Master Zhu’s writings), 49[:27b].



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14. Reply Letter to Yi Sukhŏn257 Last month, [my disciple] Kim Chahu came here [to my academy] with your letter. I was relieved and also very pleased to hear that you arrived in Pukp’yŏng City safely and your study effort has advanced very well. But I was unable to make a timely reply because I did not have anyone going back to your city [to carry a letter]. When Chahu returned here, he brought your generous letter and poems as well as [your] inquiries. I’m very grateful and also humbled. Hwang lives in a secluded place, so there are not many people [here] and no one is willing to study with me.258 In the middle of fighting my illness, I occasionally [am able to] understand certain things when I read books. However, as far as my actual practice is concerned, I am often inconsistent. My physical energy is weak due to my old age, so I cannot seek more friends or colleagues from various places in order to support and benefit myself. [But] I am always trying. Your second letter does not offer me advice but rather wishes to hear from a deaf person [like me]. Why? This is a delicate matter, so I found it difficult to accept your request. And yet, it would not be the Way of mutual friendship if I were unwilling to talk; therefore, I have concluded that I cannot hide my feelings and thoughts. In your previous letter, you [said you] deeply regretted your flaw in learning. But I do not think you erred in learning; you are [still] very young and I also see your outstanding talent. Rather, if you say you have erred in your learning, then don’t you simply mean that “if one’s learning deviates from the Way, isn’t this the same as that which is not learned yet”? Having realized your previous mistake you are thinking how to correct it. You also know how to really follow the practice of “investigating principles” (kungni/qiongli)259 and “abiding in reverence” (kŏgyŏng/ jijing).260 We may say that in bravely rectifying the defect of this practice but nonetheless rushing to advance the Way, one does not err in one’s method. The sages are remote and their words are destroyed by the heresy that disturbs the truth. Of course, it is not worthwhile to discuss those intelligent and talented Confucians of the old times who became heretics and remained deluded from beginning to the end. There are moreover those scholars who were right at the beginning but eventually became wicked; there are those centrists who said that both sides are right; and there are those who externally opposed and rejected heresies but internally abetted them. In regard to falling into heresies, there are differences Chasŏngnok 1:37a–44a (15 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 171–174.

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of depth and shallowness, but it is ultimately the same whether the sin is of cheating heaven, insulting the sages, or thwarting moral virtues. It is undeniable that even those masters such as Cheng Hao, Zhang Zai, and Zhu Xi initially studied philosophical Daoism or Buddhism for a brief period, but they immediately realized their mistake. Were they not people of great wisdom and courage, for who else would have overcome that big trend of the time and successfully returned to the true foundation [of learning]?261 I previously heard from other people that you had studied certain Buddhist scriptures and became mistakenly obsessed with them. It has been awhile since I received this heartbreaking news.262 When you last came to see me, you, too, told me about it and confidently acknowledged your mistake without hiding any truth. Having read the same story as confirmed in your second letter, I understand that you can now move forward with the [Confucian] Way. My only concern is that it is not necessarily sweet to eat that which is new, and it is hard to forget skillful things; in other words, five crops are not ready for harvest yet, but a bad autumn might suddenly come. In order to avoid this problem, you cannot seek its solution elsewhere. You only have to give your full effort at the practice of “investigating principles” and “abiding in reverence.” These two methods are mentioned in the Great Learning, clarified in its Collected Commentaries, and detailed in its Answers to Questions.263 You are worried about not having accomplished anything yet, even though you studied these texts. Isn’t this because you understood the meaning of each text but could not quite realize the key connection among the body, mind, human nature, and feelings and emotions? Or is it because even though you have realized it, you could not really taste its rich flavor by practicing it and actually experiencing it?264 Although the two methods represent the beginning and end of learning, they are actually two separate parts of the effort of study. You should therefore never be concerned with this mutual separation; we must deal with it as a reciprocal path of progress. You now have to embark on Confucian learning and certainly give your full effort without any doubt or hesitation. Empty your mind [of distracting thoughts] and explore the principles of things; do not concentrate on your personal opinions first. Build on your learning progressively and let it mature purely. Do not expect any quick result in a few days or months,265 and do not quit without any achievement. You must dedicate yourself to a lifelong endeavor. The reason for arriving at principle and concentrating especially on reverence is only that this work is achieved naturally after advancing it all deeply to



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the end. How can it be the same as the ecstatic emotion of seeing someone become a buddha immediately after awakening the [ordinary] self for the first time or making a claim about completing one great work under some dim shadow in a dark place? Accordingly, it is said that one truly understands only through experience in investigating principles and that one takes reverence as the master and will actually achieve [something] by not doing two or three things. If you neglect reverence even for a short time, no matter that you try to “hold fast to reverence” (chigyŏng/qijing),266 then this will quickly demolish your effort at dealing with things in daily life. So how can we say that only selfish thoughts, eating and sex (literally, “color”), and easy talk may be harmful? During the beginning of learning, one does not comprehend principles truly, as one often neglects to hold fast to reverence; this, too, is a common flaw among scholars. People like Hwang267 not only failed the beginning of learning but always worried about the worthless passing of their lifetime despite the fact that their gray hair had become grayer. So my expectation for the cultivated Confucian scholars of our time is far beyond my body’s severe starvation or thirst. In retrospect, as I reflect on the people of this [current] age, I see that there are certainly more than one or two persons of talent or exceptional intelligence. However, [there are among them] many who have not yet advanced to the higher honors of learning [because] they have been ensnared by the government examination system. Even if they attained higher honors [in government], they have fallen into the danger of taking selfish personal profit and therefore cannot act courageously despite their intention to do so. What you have kept pursuing so far, however, is not the same as these flawed examples, so I understand that it seems easy for you to give up the government service exam early. If you act in this world according to your mind-and-heart of experience, then I am certain that, unlike many others, you will not be attracted by the government service exam and the danger of making [selfish] profits even though you are facing the same problem. This is how I feel about you, that is, that you are superior to others and your exceptional talent will facilitate your study and understanding. Therefore, your spoken expression may not always accord with that which is “enthusiastic” and “carefully anxious.”268 Judging from this, your action seems to reveal a lack of earnestness and truthfulness. If you truly change, then it would be difficult to ensure that you will not be affected by the world’s bad customs. I have addressed this subject matter spontaneously without calculating whether or not there is such a flaw in me. I have also written an attachment in order to answer the questions you have raised in your latest letter.

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I will end this letter here and look forward to your careful review of the following attachment. Attachment I see that you have sincerely doubted what Master Zhu [Xi] meant by saying that “other than Yanzi, no one can ‘think and deliberate after having a peaceful mind.’ ”269 However, the teaching of sages pervades above and below and is already complete with the refined and the coarse, so all people can use it and benefit from it, depending on the depth or shallowness of learning. If we speak from the standpoint of coarseness, the phrase “can deliberate after having peacefulness” implies that the common people and others below them can develop their learning with good effort. On the other hand, if we speak from the standpoint of ultimate refinement, this truly cannot be done unless one is at least a great person of wisdom; in fact, this is basically what Master Zhu meant from the viewpoint of the ultimate. If “one throws oneself away”270 merely due to this excuse, then his knowledge and character are already deficient in discussing the Way. How can we ever move forward while worrying about this excuse and defying our doctrine?* When there is no work, “preserve [the mind-and-heart] and nourish [nature]”271 to a level of self-understanding; that is all one has to do. Likewise, when studying and dealing with people, one finally thinks about moral principles. In general, if we now discuss moral principles, then we are talking about the mind that has already moved, so this [mind] does not belong to the realm of tranquility. However, there are only a few people who truly understand this teaching, although it is very clear and not difficult to understand. Accordingly, [among those who do not understand it] not thinking when tranquil is referred to as dark annihilation,272 and thinking when active is also referred to as following things and phenomena chaotically. Both views are unreasonable in the [Confucian] context of moral principles, so one cannot eventually accomplish any learning through them even though they are labeled as “learning.” Only good effort at “concentrating on reverence”273 penetrates through activity and tranquility, so this concentration almost will not deviate from one’s hard work. There are [various] ways to begin “investigating principles,” for which reason we should not be restricted to only one approach. If a person * If the two-character word “excuse” has even a little bit of the same meaning, one cannot enter the Way of the sage-emperors Yao and Shun.



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acquired nothing from investigating a particular phenomenon, he would get bored and lazy and eventually discontinue investigating principles. In this case, we may say that he delays and avoids the work or [we might say that] his work at the investigation of principles is perhaps messed up; he encounters difficulty and so is unable to move forward despite his good effort. Or if his human nature is unexpectedly lacking in this capacity and cannot comprehend principles actively, then he certainly has to drop this particular thing, turn to other things and phenomena, and then progress to fulfill the practice of investigating principles. Hence, if you develop the investigation of principles here and there for a long time, as [your investigation] gets deeply fruitful, your mind naturally becomes gradually illuminated and the truth of moral principles will be revealed gradually through your insight. Sometimes you bring up principles that you could not explore before in order to think thoroughly and seek them out again. When you consider them in light of the previously investigated principles of the Way, you will simultaneously grasp them in relation to those principles you [already] investigated, although you did not understand them before. This is the vital method of investigating principles, so I do not mean that you should eventually give up that which could not [at first] be investigated. As Yanping said,274 one advances in an orderly way, little by little, after waiting for the investigation of a particular phenomenon to be comprehended and completed. As a matter of fact, this accords with the unchanging rules of investigating principles, so one surely has to follow it. However, if you seek its meaning deeply, it is also not incompatible with Master Cheng Yi’s words275 in the original context, so what [Zhao] Gean276 discussed in this regard is not in doubt. It is correct to say that Hu277 discussed the theory of “arrogance and laziness”278 regarding ordinary people. Therefore, its beginning section mentions the word “people” (in/ren), and Master Zhu [Xi] said in interpreting it that “the word ‘people’ here means ordinary people,” and “the ordinary people’s daily emotions go on in a fixed direction, insofar as they are not cultivated.”279 Although we may know that this originally did not point to cultivated people, it is referring to ordinary people’s flaw [in this instance] in order to empower cultivated people to realize this flaw so as to rectify the selfishness (literally, “one-sidedness”) of ordinary people and to help them arrive at the central Way [of Confucianism]. Accordingly, two words such as “arrogance” and “laziness” should be applied to cultivated persons as well, so we cannot ignore mentioning what it means to deal with this matter. If we generally talk about ordinary people, we can say that although they may be arrogant because they are human, [ar-

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rogance] can certainly occur due to their emotions. They cannot help commiting ugly actions because they fall into selfishness. The cultivated person regulates himself well in a balanced way, so it is obviously the norm under the principles of daily phenomena that the self would act simply by following propriety (also “ritual”). Moreover, the cultivated person’s self is clear because it has no attachment to thinking about or leaning toward only one side from any particular angle, so its mind-and-heart is wholly warm, earnest, and compassionate, and its vital form of central integrity and harmonious peace exist freely as usual. Accordingly, what Master Zhu Xi intended by [quoting] supportive phrases, such as “took his lute” and “leaning against the low table,”280 is not that Confucius and Mencius were really “arrogant” and “lazy,” but rather that the phenomenon of becoming arrogant and lazy may happen even to sages and worthies. If so, how dare we cast suspicion on the cultivated person’s falling into both arrogance and laziness? Or how can we not worry that the person of learning would be arrogant toward others and consider the world lightly?* Wengong281 misread the first character, kyŏk (Ch. ge; investigate or investigation), in the phrase kyŏk-mul (Ch. gewu; investigation of things)282 as meaning “to guard.” What he said truly cannot be the same as the Cheng-Zhu doctrine, but his general remarks on learning contain certain points that would not deviate from the moral principles. This means that since one’s inborn, natural disposition is pure and beautiful, it can become united with the mystery of the Way without knowing it clearly. Your letter treated [Sima Guang’s] statement that “when the principles of things and phenomena are collected together before the eyes, one learns that which is right” as similar to the investigation of things; however, you also strongly rebuked as wrong the sentence that “one learns that which is right.” Hwang [I] cannot remember what I thought when I met with you before, but my current view is certainly not the same as yours. I already considered the [Confucian] doctrine of knowledge and action after checking each textual meaning above and below that. As a result, the statement “ponder on the origin of human-heartedness and righteousness and seek out a clue to the Book of Rites and the Book of Music” refers to the phenomenon of investigating things; and the statement that “the principles of things and phenomena are collected together before the eyes” just means the result of extending knowledge. Therefore, Wengong’s saying “learn that which is right” is certainly what leads to strenuous efforts; and the *

Although the term o (arrogance) here is originally the same as the term o referring to ugly virtues, the two are not different in meaning. However, its meaning is somewhat different when referring to the cultivated people.



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saying “one does not arrive at that which is right” means self-effort at what is not yet achieved despite practice. In general, the statement that “the principles of the world are collected together before the eyes” implies that which cannot be done without already having a deep level of investigating principles. It simply means that when one’s effort at the investigation of principles is already deep, one cultivates oneself according to “that which is right” by means of discerning right and wrong without ignoring any one of the world’s universal principles. That which is right is identical to good, and learning is identical to practice. [Wengong’s saying] that “one learns the right but cannot arrive at it” is identical to the situation when “he got hold of one thing that was good, he clasped it firmly as if wearing it on his breast,”283 but he still could not reach to the realm of ultimate goodness. If the sentence “learn the right” is viewed as the phenomenon of investigating things, then those phrases mentioned above—such as “ponder on,” “seek out,” and “collected together before the eyes”—already refer to knowledge and therefore also reiterate the term “knowledge” (chi/zhi). In the following text, there is not a word about practice. However, you suddenly say “self-effort at what is not yet achieved” without being concerned with the phrase “cannot arrive at that which is right”; in this case, there are more than one or two occasions where [the word] practice is mentioned. Although Wengong’s scholarship did not inherit the [orthodox] tradi­ tion, it is neither careless nor flawed. Furthermore, if we seek the meaning of those two sentences [mentioned above] according to my reasoning, then we can see that Wengong had worked hard on the saying [by Confucius] that “one seems to have not accomplished learning, and I only worry that he may lose its ground.”284 Wengong, being a diligent man, knew about this. But he did not know the other meaning of it; therefore, he ended the text by stating, “What does one seek in other people, and what is expected from outside?” Since this statement is about the truth regarding what he enjoyed for himself [by seeking things in other people and from outside], the sentence that “one’s will becomes lazy” and the wording below it also indicate the remaining fact about his having pleasure [in such a way]. So these few sentences are definitely true. If the principles of things and phenomena are discussed according to their foundation, there is also originally nothing that is not the ultimate good. However, it is certainly arguable that when there is good, evil exists, and when there is right, wrong exists. Accordingly, we elucidate our discernment of right and wrong or of good and evil only so as to keep or remove [what is wrong or evil] by means of “investigating things” and “fathoming principles” as a general guide. This is why Shangcai285 regarded seeking the good as the investigation of

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things. Now, you say that “the principles of things and phenomena have nothing that is not the ultimate good; if so, how can there be no good earlier?” On the other hand, you use your statement in order to attack Wengong’s saying [to] “learn that which is right.” Presented in this way, your reasoning will probably decline gradually by becoming one-sided and partial; in other words, this is not a teaching that unites the inner and the outer. Regarding “cutting out flesh from one’s body,”286 our former Confucians have already debated this. If it is impossible to get any help from others under the most desperate conditions, one may deal with it [the situation] by using one’s own right to choose. Generally speaking, if there are no other options, a child volunteers to save his parent’s life at the cost of sacrificing part of his body. This indeed means extreme pain and suffering on the part of the child. However, it was eventually concluded that we should not teach filial piety to people in such a context. Master Zhu [Xi] therefore said that this ancient custom is not quite the way of filial piety, and he did not at all regard it as the ultimate goodness. Overall, when a matter reaches a point beyond one’s control and there seems to be no satisfactory moral way, one cannot avoid following the next option: The so-called individual right [to choose] could certainly be used in this situation. We nevertheless need to watch this matter carefully; otherwise, it might go wrong and be one-sided and then become the sin of greatly disturbing the Way. The meaning of your statement that “[to] be single-minded (literally, “to concentrate on one thing”) without being distracted by others in order to deal with ten thousand changes” is very good. You are also quite accurate in quoting Master Zhu’s saying that “this mind deals with things accordingly [and] originally does not consist of any things or phenomena,” Mr. Fang’s saying that “[the mind] is the master although it is emptied inside,” and other sayings. Nonetheless, while it is not difficult to understand this principle [of teaching], it is rather difficult to practice it; moreover, it is not just difficult to practice it, but rather far more difficult to keep developing the truth and practicing it for a long time. This is what I, an aging, weakening, and clumsy man, am deeply concerned with, and I really worry about it in regard to a very bright person like you.



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15. Reply Letter to Hwang Chunggŏ287 to Discuss the Paengnoktonggyu chiphae (Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules)288 Pak [Yŏng]289 compiled the Collected Interpretation and published it recently. [Your letter stated as follows:] The statement “uphold righteousness (ŭi/yi; also “rightness,” “the right”) and do not seek benefit (i/li; also “profit”)”290 mentions “righteousness” in contrast to “benefit.” However, it is also said that “socalled benefit is in harmony (hwa/ho) with that which is right.”291 So how is this [teaching] then related to the meaning of [the former sentence,] “do not seek benefit”?292

If “benefit” is discussed in its original context, it is in harmony with “righteousness” and therefore has no “evil” (literally, “no good”). This is in line with what the Book of Changes referred to as “benefit” (also, “advantageous”) and “non-benefit” (puli/buli; non-advantageous); what the Book of History said about “beneficial use/function” (iyong/liyong; taking advantage of); and so on. If people speak only for the sake of benefit [to themselves], it is harmful to the self-cultivated person regarding caring for the mind and will also generate an abyss of selfishness and avarice in the ordinary person. The evil of the world is all born from this. The meaning of the word “benefit” varies according to its contexts. Master Dong Zhongshu’s saying originally meant the case of refinement in the self-cultivated person’s way of [practicing] mindfulness versus the case where ordinary people do bad things. Master Zhu Xi elucidated this by quoting Confucius’ saying about “the harmony of righteousness.” In general, if benefit is regarded as “the harmony of righteousness,” then this benefit is not outside of this righteousness; rather, the benefit exists by way of upholding [or rectifying] the righteousness. On the other hand, if we say “do not seek benefit” [as Dong Zhongshu said], then this also means that the benefit exists outside righteousness and they therefore become two [independent] things, which also seems to imply that “this” will be done whereas “that” will not be done. This is why you questioned the problem of inconsistency regarding the [foregoing quoted] text you sent to me; however, there is actually no real inconsistency here. After all, Chasŏngnok 1:44a–50a (12 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 174–177.

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although benefit [the advantageous] generally exists “in harmony with righteousness,” the reason why it fluctuates up and down, or [between] good or bad, while facing and competing with the righteousness is not what the benefit actually does, but rather what the human mind does. Therefore, the cultivated person’s mind fundamentally wants to “uphold righteousness,” but it is occasionally unable to maintain its single-minded focus on righteousness and thereby develops the slightest inclination toward benefit. It does so for its own sake in dealing with daily phenomena in this case. The so-called benefit where the mind is already arranged by righteousness is not the same as the benefit that is actually “in harmony with the righteousness.” This is why Master Zhu Xi interpreted the meaning of the term benefit as “the harmony of righteousness” but simultaneously pointed to the hazard of “seeking benefit” in terms of the three-character phrase “[doing] for one’s own sake.” It is not that what is referred to as “benefit” is essentially bad, but rather that this matter becomes evil simply because of our selfish mind seeking benefits. If so, what’s wrong with the meaning of [Dong Zhongshu’s saying] “do not seek benefit” in quoting the phrase “in harmony with righteousness” [from the Book of Changes]? Nothing is wrong. How much more so if Master Zhu [Xi] did not study this in a refined way and explain it reasonably?293 People would look through Dong’s saying quickly and carelessly and then consider the word “benefit” only negatively as avarice and the word “seek [benefit]” in the context of profitmaking. This would differ significantly from the virtuous people’s way of mind cultivation that discerns even the slightest differences. How, then, is the subtle meaning of Master Dong’s saying compatible with the teaching “do what is difficult first and put off benefit until later”?294 Even if this is so, we should know that there is not much difference among ordinary people in terms of falling into the abyss of this problem because the mind acts for its own sake. If I care only about the benefit of doing things for my own sake [even though] I also do not do evil [in my dealings] with ordinary people, then I have already become an inferior person. In this regard, Master Zhu pointed out that two statements in the Book of Mencius—“What is the point of mentioning profit?”295 and “follows the norm and awaits his destiny”296—have the same meaning. However, [Pak] Songdang did not include this point in his Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. I do not see his intention clearly. Earlier I repeatedly read several explanations appended to the Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. Let me presume to go over them as follows. First, at the back of this text, Pak first quotes the [Confucian] saying “one single thread binding,”297 [then] mentions the



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doctrine of “governing the state next,” and then appends his words just below that. It seems that his intention was to use these words in order to supplement what is lacking in Zhu Xi’s White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. This is indeed a good attempt, but as far as I know, it is not unquestionable. Sages and worthies in the past taught people in order to encourage learning. Did they also want to enable every person to know the Way and do everything for themselves while standing and talking to each other? The sages and worthies could not do so because of their unavoidable situations and not because they wanted to restrict the transmission of the Way and limit the people within the common confines. Three thousand of [Confucius’] disciples were learning at the sage’s academy every day, but what was taught there included only the doctrine of filial piety, brotherly love, loyalty, and trust, as well as “the study of the Book of Poetry and Book of History and the practice of ritual propriety.”298 In addressing his doctrine of human-heartedness, Confucius also emphasized nothing but practice of the virtue of human-heartedness. After such a long period of time, people eventually managed various accomplishments according to each individual’s ability; however, only Zengzi and Zigong [Confucius’ two disciples] were able to hear the subtlety of “one single thread [binding all].”299 This has been the inevitable reality ever since. The system that the former sage-kings taught includes the Elementary Learning (Xiaoxue) and the Great Learning (Daxue). The teaching of the Elementary Learning covers the entirety of refined rhythm and details of human affairs. It was eventually up to the Great Learning to address to the utmost its greater scope. However, regarding its teaching on knowledge, [the doctrine of] “fathoming [principles] and investigating [things]”300 was emphasized [by the Great Learning] and [the teaching on] practice was later extended to the family, the state, and the world on the basis of “making the will sincere,” “rectifying the mind,” and “cultivating the self.”301 So its teaching is systematic and the practicality of learning efforts is also similar. In regard to the regulation of practice, only the foundation of “preserving the mind” and “governing the state” is mentioned [at the back of Pak’s Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules]. But what Confucius taught [his disciple] Yan Yuan302 about the civilized tradition and governing system is not mentioned here. What’s the reason for this? Only Yanzi [Yan Yuan] was able to understand those losses and gains over the four-dynasty period and the way of establishing a great law for hundreds of kings. In establishing a universal law for the world, as mentioned in the Great Learning, why would the sages ever cheat the talented people of the world in order to tell all of us how to neglect the standard levels from the beginning of learning?

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The complete substance and great function of Master Zhu Xi’s scholarship are all available, and they emphasize the five human relationships as the foundation [of learning] in establishing a set of guidelines for the followers of learning. Moreover, these guidelines address the steps of learning that lead to [the individual’s] enthusiastic practice. The reason it does not go over the total substance of the Way is also the legacy intended by the school of Confucius as well as the pedagogical system of former sage-kings. Below broad learning is the extension of knowledge, whereas below enthusiastic practice is the effort of practice. These two norms are expected from scholars in the world. This truth is neither refined nor coarse, and the refined may be acquired from the coarse. And its language pervades above and below, because it “reaches the above by means of learning from the below”;303 this is like the case where various kinds of wild animals all drink river water each according to its own quantity. Likewise, becoming a sage at most or a good scholar at least is all acquired from here [as implied in the same truth above]. The meaning of the phrase “one single thread binding” and that of the phrase “the Way of governing the state” are similar in that we generally do not rush to talk about them, not that we don’t list them for discussion. Now, without looking after this carefully, someone [Pak in his Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules] would attempt to expand it with quotations. This problem is caused by not thinking. What he says has a lot of words, but it essentially means to practice sincerity and reverence as the main focus. The text preceding the sentence “There is none without reverence” refers mainly to reverence, whereas [the text] following the sentence “The Way has substance and function” refers mainly to sincerity. Although discussion about the focused topic of reverence has a critical flaw in its expression and wording, it does not reveal any greater error. The discussion on the focused topic of sincerity is much more flawed, however. Teaching should be done in sequence according to steps, and talking is valuable when it is well-timed. The substance and function of the Way are mentioned suddenly in order to include sincerity, but there are no supportive clues for this mode of utterance. This is the first flaw [in Pak’s text]. The Doctrine of the Mean, a text that explains the Way, refers to “centrality” as “that which is unmanifested (mibal/weifa; not aroused)” and also refers to “harmony” as “that which is manifested (ibal/yifa; aroused),” thereby revealing the virtue of human nature and feelings/ emotions.304 This is cited [by Pak] in presenting Zhu Xi’s White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. However, it is done in a very unfriendly manner. This is the second flaw.



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The doctrine of “illuminating virtue” and “renovating people” in the Great Learning305 and the doctrine of “centrality and harmony” in the Doctrine of the Mean are compared by Pak. Although these principles are one, their implications are different according to what is indicated. To associate them aggressively as a combination would be a bad mistake among sloppy Confucian scholars and will lead later generations of scholarship astray when scrutinizing the classical texts. This is the third flaw. The way to establish “the great foundation of the world”306 may be addressed after “making the will sincere” and “rectifying the mind.”307 One explores the bright virtue, “illuminates it to the utmost,” and establishes “the great foundation of the world.” The great foundation is naturally established if you can simply extend knowledge. Following this line of reasoning leads to making the will sincere and rectifying the mind, which means that only after the great foundation of the world is established can the will be sincere and the mind rectified. Priority [before] and posteriority [after] are all reversed, so there is no coherent sequence in the meanings of words here [in Pak’s work]. This is the fourth flaw. Regarding “the universal way of the world,”308 we may talk about practice. However, it is said in Pak’s commentary that “the universal way of the world is chosen.” This is indeed unreasonable. Moreover, if we were to discuss “the universal way of the world” according to the Doctrine of the Mean, then we could talk about all things that follow [the practice of] “making the will sincere” and “rectifying the mind.” By contrast, Pak’s discussion removed “cultivating the self” and other practices following this,309 which is a mistake [made] without careful reading and analysis. This is the fifth flaw. “To be great and be transformed by this goodness”310 and the subtlety of “being true to oneself”311 refer to the realm of being a sage, so even Yanzi [Confucius’ disciple] could not achieve it. This is mentioned in Zhu’s White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. However, the phrase quoted at the beginning [of Pak’s commentary], “one single thread binding,” the sentence discussed at the end, “To work diligently without rest is the heavenly way,” and other words have all become empty talk. This is the sixth flaw. In general, according to Confucian learning one must start from a low level to reach a high level and must go from a near site to arrive at a far site. Beginning from the low or from the near basically seems to be slower and more time-consuming and [involves] long and twisted roads. However, if we reject this path, how can we ever reach the high or the far? One works hard to progress gradually in order to accomplish reaching a high level or a far site because the so-called high and far do not move away from the low and near. This is why Confucian learning is different

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from the schools of Śākyamuni and Laozi,312 both of which lead students to work toward suddenly reaching the highest [attainment of spiritual development] without even putting a single footstep on [the path] and also to commit them to embark on a long journey without any beginning at all. How can there be such a principle in the universe? Since [their teachings are] not presented in detail and one is led to pursue something simply by believing in a word or a half sentence, this problem will eventually lead a person to fall into the sin of cheating heaven and the sages by causing him to be loudly self-assuring with his foolish mind. How can [we allow] this harm to simply arise over the trivial matter of a small difference in the meaning of a word? Alas, there are students of the classics and scholars of Confucian learning today who are enjoying profit (i/li) from their government careers only through [their proficiency in] literacy and writing. Not only do they regard the phrase “the learning of the Way” to be as [bad as] a poisonous plant, but they also do not even discuss it verbally or write about it with a brush; instead, they care only about calculating its profit. On the other hand, this person [Pak, the author of the Paengnoktonggyu chiphae] has overcome such a bad tendency in himself and renounced his previous military career (literally, “abandoned his spear”) in order to pursue a scholarly path. Even while being busy with his studies, he continued thinking about the Way. Although he suffered from insults and disgrace in the midst of doing so, he chose to follow the system of teaching used by earlier wise people without giving himself up, and also endeavored to inspire the world by adding footnotes and comments [on Zhu Xi’s White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules]. Indeed, Pak may be called a great man. Unfortunately, his perspectives are sometimes rough and do not avoid insufficiency. His Collected Interpretation (Chiphae) is brilliant in the main, but it reveals several unreasonable points if you study it carefully. Although the intended meaning of his appended explanation is good, its problem is ultimately what I already mentioned above, and people tend to think [Pak’s work] is regrettable. So what shall we do? Generally speaking, today’s scholars, when discussing a former scholar, dare not hastily censure him. On the other hand, when we explore principles and discuss the Way, we should not do so poorly even to the slightest degree. Therefore, when Huian and Donglai313 were correcting certain wrong points in the Zhiyan (Knowledge discussed) by Hu Wufeng;314 Nanxuan315 also participated. Even though Nanxuan was Wufeng’s disciple he did not hesitate to discuss his master’s work. Isn’t this [discussion] in accordance with [Confucian] moral principles, that is, the great effort of heaven and earth? Whoever is first or last, master or



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disciple, whatever is that or this or [the thing] to be taken or removed, all of this only follows that which is definitely right and therefore inalterable. This interpretation means that one has to work with those among the followers of his school [of thought] who understand the Way and fairly discern right and wrong. To correct the text and publish it in the world— after reflecting on what is to be gained, removing what is to be removed, and keeping what is to be kept—would be fortunate for scholars and students of later generations. In this regard, our reason for supporting [Pak] Songdang’s work would be stronger. How about your shining opinions— what do you think?

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16. Reply Letter to Hwang Chunggŏ Continued I previously received an attachment to your letter discussing Pak’s Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. I am embarrassed that I could not reply to it for a long time due to my recurrent illness and my habit of being occupied with things. Regarding relevant questions about the statement that “benefit is the harmony of righteousness,”316 you also quoted an explanation of “the moral mind” and “the human [ordinary] mind”317 in mentioning their difference and discussing it in detail. Now, while I can see the depth of your thinking, I think, on the other hand, that something [about it] is still unreasonable, so I happen to ask you about what is right or wrong. It is correct to say that the term “benefit” exists within the harmony of righteousness,318 but it would be wrong to refer to the term “private” (sa/si) as evil (literally, “that which flows to bad places”). Master Zhu [Xi] said that physical form belongs to my body and so is a personally owned thing. It is called private because the physical form cannot be compared with the Way, which is publicly shared, and it is not necessarily evil (literally, “no good”). Zhen Xishan,319 too, said that the so-called private is identical to talking about what I do, wish [for], and speak [about] individually. Accordingly, it is clear that we cannot refer to this word “private” as that which tends toward evil. Moreover, it is said that the former [the term “benefit”] is identical to saying that ordinary human cravings (inyok/renyu) exist in heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli), whereas the latter [the term “private”] is identical to saying that human cravings flow through heaven’s principle.320 This argument, too, is certainly unreasonable. In general, the meaning of “benefit,” if discussed in its original context, only refers to pursuing the advantageous (p’yŏnik/bianyi; profit). The way in which the cultivated person deals with things and affairs is based on righteousness [moral principles], so from his early age there has been nothing that did not follow the advantageous. Therefore, it is said that “benefit is regarded as the harmony of righteousness.”321 This is why “when heaven’s principle is followed, there is naturally nothing that is unbeneficial even if benefit is not sought for.” If we refer to benefit as an ordinary craving only, nothing can remain attached inside heaven’s principle even slightly. So how could it ever be called “the harmony of righteousness”? Generally speaking, the term “benefit” and the term “private” differ Chasŏngnok 1:50a–53a (7 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 177–179.



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greatly from what we mean by each in ordinary language. Although what each term points to is different, its originating examples are similar.* You quoted certain passages for textual support and evidence; this is very good. On the other hand, in those places where you use your own words, the manner of expressopm is rather muddled (literally, “using mud and mixing it with water”). This is probably due to the lack of competence in understanding principles. I am fortunate to reiterate that we can realize the deep, unrevealed meaning [of the topic of our discussion] hereafter. The Great Learning represents all teaching, including “self-cultivation” and “governing people,” and also consists of both substance and function; this is fundamentally so. However, it is probably wrong to take “abiding in the highest good”322 as applicable to “the way of one thread [binding all],”323 whereas “[the way of] the measuring square,” the functioning of wealth, and utilizing the people324 are said to be the substance of a civilized tradition and governing system. Generally speaking, the highest good and the one thread are not two principles. “The highest good” refers to the point where each thing or phenomenon has [embodies] the principle of the Way to the utmost good; therefore, the ruler is virtuous while his minister is reverential, the father is affectionate while his son is filial, and so on.325 “The one thread” refers to the unifying way of uniformly progressing from the great origin and the great foundation to the tens of thousands of differences and places; accordingly, the ultimate sincerity of heaven and earth does not rest, each of the myriad things takes its own place in existence, and the sage’s mind is wholly one principle. This is what we mean by saying that reacting carelessly and reacting kindly and earnestly are different from each other in terms of function. If what is being pointed to is not identical, the intended meaning of language use is also not identical; therefore, we cannot speak of one combined thing merely because the principle is identical [in each of the components of the combined thing]. How much more so with adding the term “abiding” in front of the phrase “the highest good”; this is naturally because Zengzi326 meant that in dealing with it [abiding in the highest good] one should carefully consider it according to one’s work and put great ef* The private nature of physical form refers to the case where consciousness is aroused and functions. “Benefit” as the harmony of righteousness refers to that which ethically manages and seeks for. “Private” simply means that possessed by oneself and is not a [selfish] personal craving (sayok/siyu). So “benefit” means that which follows the advantageous and is not a craving for benefit (iyok/liyu).

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fort into practice. Although many principles are said to have merged into one, how can we suddenly say that this means the same as “the one thread [binding all]”? The scope of using “[the way of] the measuring square” is very broad, but it simply means that one’s own mind-and-heart comprehends both things and phenomena so as to remain balanced and upright. It is not about the civilized tradition and governing system. Regarding the functioning of wealth and utilizing the people,327 the person who rules the world deals with these kinds of affairs, either accepting them as “good like this” or rejecting them as “bad like that,” so the ruler encourages [in some cases] or is cautious [in other cases]. All this is intended to address none other than the meaning of “[the way of] the measuring square.”328 How would it ever be possible to talk about the civilized tradition and governing system in just one sentence? What do we mean by the so-called civilized tradition and governing system? As recorded in one small portion of the Zhou Dynasty’s Administration Guidelines (Zhouguan), there are various systems of law in addition to other norms—including the tradition of dealing with an “acquired system” and an “inborn substance”329 like the three hundred rules and customs of formalized rites330 and three thousand flexible guidelines for personal and public propriety—as well as general politics, religion, and the command system. At that time, what Yan Yuan331 asked the Master about was the method of “governing the world,” not the scholarly discussion of “learning.” Therefore, Confucius went beyond the rites and music traditions of the Four Dynasties and considered the natural relevance of inborn substance and acquired refinement; he then established the system that reliably works for ten thousand generations and also limited it to being “one thread.” In this manner, the Duke of Zhou subtly implemented rites and arranged music. From this, the Great Learning just teaches people about the learning of “self-cultivation” and “nation-governing.” However, if the foundation of “preserving the mind” and “governing the state”332 is neglected and one suddenly arrives here [at the civilized tradition and governing system], then one experiences this learning in the opposite way. It would not become truly earnest, would it? I also said to wait for the learning [as taught in the Great Learning] to become manifest. To refer to the so-called civilized tradition and governing system as what becomes apparent through their function is not then correct. As Confucius said earlier, “In guiding a state of a thousand chariots, approach your duties with reverence and be trustworthy in what you say; avoid excesses in expenditure and love your fellow men; [and] employ the labor of the common people only in the right seasons.”333 Although reverence is generally taken as the founda-



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tion [of self-cultivation and governing the state],334 there are four aspects of the work. How is it even possible that substance and function were mentioned together [by Confucius]? In any case, Guishan335 said that this is only about “preserving,” not about “governing.” As I said, the Great Learning is therefore about the foundation of “preserving the mind” and “governing the state” and does not address the civilized tradition and governing system. How can my point be at all unclear? [On the one hand,] seeking “the one thread” while excluding “the utmost good” makes no sense whatsoever; on the other hand, pointing to the utmost good as the one thread would be like seeing one particular tributary and mistaking it for the original source of [all] streams. How can we ever do that? The foundation of governing the state is originally embedded in the commentary chapter on “Peace in the World” [in the Great Learning]. However, to say that the topic of managing the civilized tradition and governing system is completely presented in this chapter would seem to be identical to the situation where one makes a weighing machine without its scale indicator and claims that its accuracy in collecting government taxes is completely assured. How can this be right? In general, the myriad things in the universe are simply this one principle. Therefore, if the principles of meaning and the spoken language are confused and disorderly, then nothing can be distinguished and defined; and if we forceably mix them up, then there will be no difference. Unquestionably, however, this is not what the sages and worthies originally taught. In this regard, there are those who lack in illuminating the teaching of the classics; instead, they darken the true meaning and disrupt the true views. This is indeed a common defect among scholars. In the old days, people diligently discussed learning for [the duration of] their lifetimes and still said there was not enough time. Isn’t this because the moral principles are so subtle that it is difficult to illuminate them and easy to misinterpret, as in our case, and also because it is neither easy to fix what is wrong nor possible to quit doing so? I thank you for continuously exchanging letters with me regarding the subject matter you have questioned. Since I have expressed my foolish, humble opinions here, I would be glad if you did not read them too extensively.

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17. Reply Letter to Ki Chŏngja336 Earlier this spring, I sent a letter to the south, far away from here. Soon after, I retreated back to the east, where I became deeply tranquil and secluded and therefore could not get news from Seoul in a timely manner. Moreover, isn’t your Honam area [Chŏlla province] a thousand miles (li) away from there? I recently asked someone regarding your whereabouts and was informed that you had gone to Seoul. I wanted to fulfill my plan by writing you a letter, but after thinking it over I realized that you now would be facing a tough time with your new appointment. I was also suffering from my unending illness and therefore had no time to nurture daily greetings and thanks. It was only when Chŏng Chajung337 came to my place that I briefly heard about your news (literally, “action and tranquility”). Recently, however, Chajung has not come often. His house servant came here on the tenth day of the last month, and so I finally received two letters you sent me in the middle of the eighth month, an additional reply letter dated the fifth day of the third month, as well as an essay you have written. I am gratefully pleased and cannot express how much my mind is relieved. After repeatedly reading all three of your letters, I have learned that you are leaning toward my viewpoint, which also makes me feel nothing but admiration for you! In general, [the course of] one’s public service career or retirement is definitely something that should be decided by oneself depending on one’s own thinking. It cannot be discussed with other people, nor can they be directly involved in it. The view of Hu Kanghou338 is excellent, so one can learn from it. Nonetheless, my worry is that if daily things are not refined according to principle and one’s determination is not firm enough, then what one decides by oneself about daily moral principles will occasionally be unclear, easily led to whatever is wanted or hoped for, and unable to overcome losing its rightness. I have read your latest letter and carefully thought about its meaning. It says, “My scholarship is not yet established. If I suddenly go on with this official government appointment, I am afraid that it may take away my determination [for learning]. So I intend to go back and embark on my greater task.” This task was a difficult thing to do even for people in old times, not to mention that we have yet to see it in today’s world. Accordingly, Hwang [I]339 continues to maintain a closer tie to you, which is especially deep. I also care about you, insofar as I am concerned with your well-being. Chasŏngnok 1:53a–58b (11 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 179–181.



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Hereafter please allow Hwang to talk briefly about my own experience. I was dedicated to learning from an early age, but I unfortunately received no guidance from any teacher or friend, and my physical illness had already worsened. So I faced all this. If I had definitely decided to withdraw to a mountain forest, built a small hut there at a quiet location in order to read books and cultivate my objective, and tried harder for thirty-some years to seek what I have not [yet] reached, then my illness could have been cured and my scholarship would surely have advanced further. What can the world’s myriad things do for or against my pleasure [in learning]? In retrospect, [I see that] I could not renounce [the world] and [instead] engaged in seeking an official public position after writing the civil service examinations. During that time, I tested myself by asking this question: “If it somehow happens not to be right for me, I’ll be able to quit and retire. Who can ever stop me from doing so (literally, ‘tie me down’)?” I thought along this line. However, I did not realize that present and past are greatly different, and our government system and the Chinese system are not the same.340 Scholars have forgotten when to pursue an official career as well as when to retire from it, and the tradition of propriety and ritual through resigning from it [a public post] has collapsed. So the defect of seeking empty, selfish fame has become much more serious: The more one looks for a way out, the more dangerous it becomes, and nowadays taking up work and giving it up have become more difficult to do. This is why opinions of criticism and censure are rising like a mountain to an extremely high level. Earlier in my life, I felt that my nature would be a good fit with mountains and hills. However, [even though] I did not admire receiving a government salary [from my official position], my scholarship did not illuminate principle and I was murky about its present meaning. I realized this problem for the first time only after making such a mistake, so it was difficult to fix the problem, for which reason I am still facing the same situation. The reason I have nevertheless been able to conduct myself according to the old meaning [of sagely teaching] is that people in our country are aware of my physical illness, and the ghosts and spirits of the world are also watching it. I say so not because I have any excuse. In your case, it would be more difficult to deal with your body than [for me with] mine. You have already informed me of your thoughts, so I think I have no choice but to outline briefly my opinions in response. You have a brilliant spirit as well as a great talent. Even though you have not yet begun an official career, your name is already well known locally and nationally. Now that you are finally about to pursue it [a career], everyone in the country is interested in you. You are at the starting point

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of this long career, but even though you do not have any kind of illness like I do, you already intend to renounce an official career. Do you think that others will gladly let you go under these circumstances? They will not release you, so you will try to resign [the position] yourself. But the more you do so, the more difficult for you to avoid their opposition. Although a person repeatedly declines his official position and seems to beg to withdraw, wouldn’t this also be difficult to do? Wouldn’t the people’s criticism of his act certainly be stronger than their censure of my illness? This is why I worry about you, and that is what I am afraid of. Therefore, my point is this: Before serving the world, you should have [already] made your decision to concentrate solely on study in order to arrive at the Way. Through this approach, then, you could have become the person who establishes the flagship pennant of our generation and promotes the scholarly reputation of Korea that has declined so far. This, however, is not your present situation, since you have already obtained an official government position after writing state service examinations and then also have bowed and overcome personal pride in carrying out its accompanying custom of inviting other officials and serving them food. Now you are seeking advice from another person [like me] in order to retire and fulfill your original wish. Aren’t you doing so rather too late? I am also afraid that, as it is said, deviating from today’s secular world and deciding based on one’s own wishful heart may not necessarily bring about anything. In your letter, you said, “The fact that it has become more difficult to deal with everyday worldly things341 makes me worry that my scholarship is not yet accomplished. It would not have been difficult to deal with worldly matters if my scholarship were already accomplished.” This is really earnest and extremely well said. Furthermore, what you have done in explaining the Four-Seven theory [during our correspondence debate] indeed reveals that you are deeply versed in that topic.342 However, my opinion is that although your scholarship is competent in the correct, larger, and broader context of knowledge, it sometimes does not grasp and penetrate through the refined and subtle meaning of the teaching. The way in which it maintains the mind and regulates actions is mostly right in the informal and liberal context of meaning, but what is lacking is something in the exertion of great effort at the practice of self-cultivation and mind concentration. Accordingly, even though your scholarship is exceptionally excellent at clarifying and discussing [the Four-Seven ideas and issues], it occasionally fails to overcome the flaw of agitated inconsistency. Although ordinary people will not reach the same level you are seeking, you nevertheless “manipulate”343 your learning and cannot



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transcend its inconsistency [in going] back and forth. So how can we say that there is no difficulty with facing the incoming wind and waves while embarking on a big public job at the same time as [nurturing] your fame? Generally speaking, whether an emerging scholar in the world is serving the public or staying at home, or whether or not he sometimes has a suitable amount of time and opportunity, he has to remain untained in order to practice moral rightness (ŭi). This is not to mention misfortune or happiness. Oddly, however, those among scholars in our country who admire the rightness of the Way even slightly are being caught up in worldly troubles and misfortunes. This is [partly] because our land is small and people’s minds harsh, but it is also due to the fact that what one decides for oneself to do is unsatisfactory. Those whose scholarship is not established nevertheless praise themselves too highly and try to become heroic about governing the state without carefully considering if the time is right. This path will result in failure and should be regarded with caution by anyone with a great name and important work. Regarding the way of today’s world, I say this to you: Do not display yourself too prominently; do not suddenly become courageous in order to govern the state; and do not argue excessively for your own opinions in any of your dealings. If a person’s body is already committed and assigned to serving the country, how can he insist on only thinking about withdrawal? If he has established his standards by moral principles (literally, “rightness of the Way”), how can he only take on [his government appointment] and not withdraw [from it]? In other words, Confucius’ teaching to “[serve the state] if you have energy to spare after studying; [study] if you have energy to spare after serving the state”344 should be taken as a general guideline in managing oneself, and one should carefully and delicately consider whether one’s effort feels compatible with moral principles. If you embark on serving the country, you should always take a step backward beyond worrying [about your job] and humbly ask yourself about your singular dedication to study: “My scholarship is not yet accomplished. So how can I suddenly accept an official duty to govern the state?” If it is not the right time, you should not be even slightly influenced by external factors in requesting a leave of absence or taking retirement especially for your determination to study. In this regard, you have to tell yourself, “My scholarship is not yet accomplished, so now is the right time to cultivate myself tranquilly and continue to move forward.” As one does so over a long period of time while advancing and withdrawing, one would hope to grasp the eternal meaning of moral principles and always maintain a mode of thinking that is self-consciously not arrogant. In this case, if one likes to hear about his mistakes, delights in choosing the good,

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remains truthful, and works hard for a long time, then he will arrive at the Way, his virtue will be established, his merit naturally will become much higher, and his work will be broadly important. As I said before, in this way one can finally accept the duty of fulfilling the Way in governing the state for the first time. After considering your letter carefully, I have noticed your thinking that you want to renounce [your new appointment]. I have expressed my opinions in the context of considering two options—going ahead with it or withdrawing from it—that represent the common, ordinary nature of the secular world. Will I be criticized and blamed for [offering advice] no different from what student Chŏng345 tried to advise you? Mr. Chŏng’s view displays something that is fundamentally not realized, for which reason I could not understand his words clearly. In my opinion, you may transcend [the world] so high and even further and then withdraw once and for all without returning. I advise you to live up to what ancient people meant by “seeking one’s objective while living in retirement.”346 How do we not know that this [reclusion from secular life] will become very joyful after overcoming the shallow world of daily things? In retrospect, I heard about what Master Zhu Xi and his disciples once discussed regarding the fact that Master Cheng Yi had not asked for a salary [from his government work]. The implication of this story is that among today’s scholars there are those who became government officials through the civil examination system, for which reason they would have no other choice than to manage themselves [by observing] the regular tradition of rules and regulations. You already [have shown that you] could not hide yourself in deep seclusion from the beginning, did not resign from your position later due to illness, and obtained a government appointment through the civil service examination system. So how can I possibly advise you on the matter of deviating from serving the world? Isn’t the meaning of Mr. Chŏng’s advice also based on this kind of reason? That being said, however, if one happens even once to go against what Hwang [I] said, then one may fall into the defilement of revering current custom by living in everyday comfort while following the old steps. Therefore, always maintain an objective that cannot be taken away, a vital spirit that will not be bent, and an understanding that will not become dark, so that you may keep putting good effort into your learning daily and monthly. Only so can you strengthen your almost-established stance to the extent that the justified benefit and commanding appearance of the secular world will not be shaken and taken down. Otherwise, you will quit, having lost your appetite for learning, and will not [re]enter [the path of] learning because “the more I penetrate through it [Confucius’ way],



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the harder it becomes.”347 In a short time, your mind becomes lazy, your objective diffused and murky, and your thinking unable to overcome its disorderliness. So the world’s benefit and harm and the theory of sadness and happiness will become attractive as the original mind eventually disappears. In this case, if the original objective is altered and incorporated into the secular world, only a few will not take up a calculated, selfish method of gaining profit. This is what I worry about most; I wonder what your thinking is in this regard. I am also finally pursuing the study method that is grounded in the great origin, but I have not yet carefully considered its feasibility. Since you have asked me, I want to express my opinions and explain them. As far as I know, the mind is the foundation of myriad phenomena, and human nature is the ultimate origin of myriad goodness [hence, “the great origin”]. Therefore, when former Confucians discussed learning, they pointed to the self-practice of holding fast the mind and nourishing virtuous nature as the very first thing to be accomplished. And to fulfill the fundamental origin was the basis of arriving at the Way and broadening one’s work. How can we wait to seek our study method from somewhere else? We can also call it “concentrating on one thing [single-minded concentration] without being diverted from it”348 or talk about it in terms of “being cautious and being apprehensive.”349 Effort at single-minded concentration penetrates [both] action and tranquility, and the realm of being cautious and apprehensive belongs only to the unmanifested state. So neither one should be ignored, but nourishing the internal by means of controlling the external is essential and urgent. Accordingly, teachings such as the “threefold reflection,” “three-fold treasuring,” and “four-fold prohibition”350 are spoken of from the standpoint of encountering and dealing with things and phenomena; nonetheless, these teachings also mean the daily self-cultivation of the great origin. If people do not truly practice self-cultivation dailyand only focus on the study of the mind, then hardly any of them will avoid falling into Śākyamuni Buddha’s views.351 What do you think? Regarding our debate on the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions, I have already received your instruction, but I should respond by coming back with “the other three [corners of a square].”352 I have written my inadequate opinions in the attached letter [the first reply “Four-Seven” letter; i.e., Chasŏngnok 18], which are embarrassing in their presumptuousness and carelessness.353 I’ll be fortunate if you can make some compromise. Moreover, it is stated [in your letter] that the void and intelligence of the mind are to be separated to belong to i/li (principle; ground of being) and ki/qi (material force; physical/vital energy respectively),354 and that principle is vacuous and therefore has no opposite. [In my previous letter]

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I therefore pointed out briefly that such statements are simply not reasonable, but I did not tell you why. Even now I cannot explain item by item because I am not sure how the wording of my reply should be formulated. Therefore, please teach me and help me realize what I do not know. [My disciple] Chŏng Chajung suddenly had to go back to Seoul because of an urgent government call he received from there; consequently, I could not send a reply letter to you through Chajung. Since then, I have written this present letter and finally have a mail messenger here to deliver it to Chajung with the hope that he will forward it to you. However, since I obviously do not know whether you have already moved down to the Honam area [Chŏlla province] or are still in Seoul, I cannot possibly foretell whether or not this letter will get lost and not be delivered to you. [Let me end by saying that] as I unfolded this writing paper, I did not feel comfortable in my mind-and-heart, so I could not write everything I wanted.



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18. Reply Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn355 The First Letter Discussing the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions Separately in Terms of Principle and Material Force Former Confucian scholars clarified the topic of human nature (sŏng/ xing) and feelings and emotions (chŏng/qing) by discussing it in detail. But regarding the “Four Beginnings [of Virtue]” (sadan/siduan)356 and the “Seven Emotions” (ch’ilchŏng/qiqing),357 it is only mentioned that they are both feelings. I have not seen any theory that explains them separately in terms of i/li and ki/qi.358 Last year I happened to see a diagram composed by Chŏng Chiun,359 according to which “the Four Beginnings issue from i and the Seven Emotions issue from ki.” However, I was concerned that his differentiation of the Four and the Seven is so excessive that it would become the starting point of a controversy. [In my previous letter to you,] I therefore modified it by using such phrases as “purely good,” “involves ki as well,” and so on. This was done in order to illuminate our discussion [of the topic] on a mutual basis, without suggesting that there was nothing wrong with my words. Now that I have received and read your critique, it reveals the discrepancy and the mistakes I made [in my previous first letter] and clearly informs me about them in detail, for which reason I have realized them and greatly benefited from your critique. Nevertheless, there are questions, so I intend to present my views in a preliminary manner, hoping that you will correct them. In general the Four Beginnings are feelings and the Seven Emotions are also feelings. Because they are generally feelings (chŏng/qing), why are there two distinct terms, such as “the Four” and “the Seven”? This is what your letter meant by saying “what is spoken thereafter is not the same.” In general, i and ki fundamentally depend on each other: one being “substance” (ch’e/ ti) and the other “function” (yong/yong). Surely, there is no i without ki; there is no ki without i.360 However, if [as you said] what is spoken thereafter is not the same, then we cannot but distinguish them from each other. In discussing the two since ancient times, how would it ever be possible for sages and worthies to talk about them only as one combined together and not to talk about them separately as distinct? Even if we are referring to one single word, “[human] nature” (sŏng/ Chasŏngnok 1:58b–63a (10 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 181–184.

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xing), it is what Zisi in the Doctrine of the Mean meant by “human nature endowed by heaven”361 and what Mencius called “the original goodness of human nature.”362 What are these two phrases referring to? Do they not point to that from which the fundamental essence of i originates, beyond the situation of i being combined and associated with ki? Because their point of reference was i, not ki, we can therefore describe the i in terms of pure goodness without any evil. If one’s explanation is intended to “include ki as well” [merely] because i and ki are inseparable, then this already fails to represent the original essence of human nature (sŏng chi pon’yŏn/xing zhi benran). Indeed, Zisi and Mencius had a penetrating understanding of the substance of the Way as a whole. They chose to address it in this manner not because they knew one thing and did not know two things but rather because they realized that if one sincerely talks about human nature combined with ki, “the original goodness of human nature” (sŏng chi ponsŏn/ xing zhi benshan) will not be understood correctly [in the Mencian context]. It is only since the later generation of the Cheng brothers, Zhang Zai, and other scholars that there has been discussion of “physical human nature” (kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing). The purpose of this discussion was not to seek out many more [ideas] or to set up different opinions; instead, if what they referred to exists after being physically conditioned by life, then this also means that we cannot call it “original human nature” (pon’yŏn chi sŏng/ benran zhi xing) in its pure sense.363 In the same way, I have recklessly thought that in the case of feelings, the distinction between the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions is similar to that between original human nature and physical human nature in the case of human nature.364 Likewise, why can we not talk about feelings in terms of distinguishing i and ki if human nature is already spoken of in terms of distinguishing i and ki [separately]? Where do [the mind-and-hearts of] “commiseration,” “shame and dislike,” “courtesy and modesty,” and “discernment of right and wrong” come from?365 They are aroused (pal/fa; manifested) from the [original essence of] human nature consisting of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. Where do [the emotions of] pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire come from?366 They are aroused from the inside under certain conditions when they are activated by external things coming into contact with physical form. Regarding the manifestation of the Four Beginnings, Mencius has already explained them in terms of the mind-and-heart (sim/xin; also “feeling”). Although the mind-and-heart originally combines i and k, why does “what is spoken of” refer principally to i? This is because the human nature consisting of [moral principles



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such as] benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom exists purely at the center of the mind-and-heart, and the Four are its beginnings.367 In regard to the manifestation of the Seven Emotions, Master Cheng explained it in terms of what moves from within, and Zhu Xi said that each [of the Seven] has its own part of belonging. So the manifestation of the Seven originally includes both i and ki, but what is the reason for referring “what is spoken of” to ki?368 What moves immediately after becoming easily stimulated in contact with external things is none other than physical form because the Seven are its sprout. Why is it that what exists inside is the pure i and becomes mixed with ki after manifestation? Given that what is stimulated by external things is the physical form,369 how can we say that its manifestation is i and not ki? The Four Beginnings are all good; therefore, it is said [by Mencius] that “a person without the mind-and-heart of the Four [Beginnings] is not human,” and “as for the feelings, they can actually be good.”370 The Seven Emotions are originally good, but they can easily lead to evil [due to the influence of external things involving ki], for which reason [as stated in the Doctrine of the Mean,] “it is called harmony (hwa/he) when they each and all attain due measure and degree after they are aroused.”371 When even one [of them] is not controlled, the mind-and-heart will not be able to maintain its rightness. For this reason, neither the Four nor the Seven are outside of i and ki. In each case, however, there is what is principally referred to as origin and what is spoken of as important. Why can we not say that something belongs to i while something else belongs to ki? After carefully pondering your letter, I think you have deeply realized that i and ki depend on and are inseparable from each other, strongly advocating the point that “there is no ki without i, and no i without ki”372 and thereby saying that the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions do not have different meanings. This seems somewhat correct, but it also reveals shortcomings and discrepancies if we consider it with respect to the teaching of sages and worthies. Generally speaking, the [Confucian] study of moral principles is enormously subtle and refined. So one must have a greater mind, elevate more highly one’s intellectual vision, avoid at the outset insisting on a particular explanation, empty one’s mind-and-heart [of selfish thoughts] and keep one’s ki serene, and then slowly explore where the [true] meaning lies. We have to know the difference beyond the realm of what is similar as well as the similarity beyond the realm of what is different. Distinguishing two things [namely, i and ki, or the Four and the Seven] from each other must not harm their inevitable inseparability; uniting them into one must actu-

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ally arrive at the discovery that they cannot be mixed together. In this way we will understand things broadly rather than being one-sided.373 I wish [in the rest of this letter] to clarify my point about this obvious truth by again using the words of the sages and worthies. In ancient times, Master Kung [Confucius] had a theory that “what follows this [the Way] is good; what accomplishes this [the Way] is human nature,”374 and Master Zhou [Dunyi] developed a theory of “the non-ultimate” (wuji) and “the Great Ultimate” (taiji).375 These teachings single out and refer exclusively to i beyond the context of the i-ki interdependency. [By contrast,] Confucius spoke of “similar [human nature at birth] but different [habits],”376 and Mencius talked about “human nature regarding the ears, eyes, mouth, and nose.”377 These teachings are referring principally to ki beyond the context of the mutual fulfillment and interaction of i and ki. How would it be possible that all that these four examples of teaching do not recognize that there is indeed a difference beyond the context of things being similar? In discussing “equilibrium” (“centrality”) and “harmony,” Zisi mentioned pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy,378 but he made no mention of the Four Beginnings in his explanation. In discussing the love of learning, Master Cheng [Yi] talked about [the Seven Emotions of] pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire,379 but he, too, did not mention the Four Beginnings. All of this is because they spoke of “[i and ki] merging one into the other [in concrete phenomena]”380 beyond their interdependency. These two cases of teaching therefore see the similarity beyond the context of difference [between i and ki]; don’t they? Your opinions are different from this [i.e., the teaching of sages and worthies]: You like seeing the similarity but hate seeing the differentiation; and you also delight in the mixed wholeness [of two things] but dislike analyzing [them] separately. [Likewise,] without seriously exploring the origins of the Four and the Seven, your discussion generalizes i and ki as combined. In considering good and evil in this context, [it follows that] you insist that it is totally impossible to discuss them as distinct. At the midpoint of your writing you say that i is strong and ki is weak and that i has no concrete sign but ki has its physical trace; in the concluding part of your letter, however, you also consider that the natural manifestation of ki is what the original essence of i does. This ultimately seems to take i and ki to be one thing with nothing separating them [from each other].381 If you really insist that nothing is separable because they [i and ki] are one thing, then I’m afraid to claim that I know this subject matter. I had thought that they are not one thing [inseparable] and therefore distinguishable, the reason being that the two-character phrase “being so” ap-



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pears immediately following the phrase “fundamental substance.” What difficulty still causes you to insist that [my statement] “what is spoken of” as separate and distinguishable in the diagram is wrong? In the letter you sent me you state that what Zisi and Mencius each spoke of and referred to is not the same; you also single out the Four Beginnings. By contrast, you also say that there is nothing that distinguishes the Four Beginnings and Seven Emotions. This is almost contradicting yourself, isn’t it?382 To hate analyzing separable differentiation and [instead] endeavoring to address only the united oneness [of two things] in the discussion of learning was criticized by ancient people as behaving like “a hawk swallowing whole jujubes” [without knowing their taste; i.e., not discerning things properly]. The flaw in this approach is not at all trivial because the person who does not stop [acting in this way] does not see it, will not realize it, and will then immediately get stuck with the defect of discussing human nature in terms of ki. As a result, that person will fall into the serious trouble of mistaking [selfish] human desires for heaven’s principle.383 How can this be allowed to occur! I tried to send you my humble thoughts as soon as I received your letter, but I have been unable to express my own opinions for a long time because I was not absolutely certain they were correct. But I have recently found a key passage in the Zhuzi yulei (Classified conversations of Master Zhu Xi) at the end of a section where the Mencian doctrine of the Four Beginnings is discussed and in which it is stated that “the Four Beginnings are manifestations of i/li, whereas the Seven Emotions are manifestations of ki/qi.”384 Didn’t ancient people say, “Do not trust yourself; trust your teacher”? I courteously regard Master Zhu Xi as my mentor and a great master revered the world over and by previous and present generations. After obtaining the explanation [in the passage in the Zhuzi yulei], I have finally become confident that nothing is really wrong with my humble views. Likewise, Mr. Chŏng’s [Chiun’s] explanation, too, had no flaw at the initial stage [of our discussion], for which reason we probably do not need to revise it again. Thus far, I have written down my humble thoughts roughly and invite your further instruction.385 I do not know how you feel about it, but if you conclude that the principle of your thinking is like this [mine]—even if one might encounter a small discrepancy in its written expression and [determine] that it is actually better to use the old teaching of former Confucians—then I hope that it is proper and obvious to drop our arguments and replace them with Master Zhu Xi’s original explanation. What do you think?

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19. Letter to Chŏng Chajung and Ki Myŏngŏn386 concerning Their ­Disagreement on the Doctrine of Learning In Reply to Their Letter after Correcting What I Previously Told Them Discussion of the Teaching “Empty and Tranquil, and without Any Sign, and Yet All Things Are Luxuriantly Present” Master Cheng [Yi] said: “Empty and tranquil, and without any sign, and yet all things are luxuriantly present.”* [Commenting on this saying,] Master Zhu Xi said, Prior to the existence of this phenomenon, its principle (i/li) already exists. For example, prior to [the relationship between] a ruler and a minister, there already exists the principle of that [human] relationship between the ruler and the minister. Prior to [the relationship between] a father and a son, there already exists the principle of the [human] relationship between the father and the son. It is not that originally no such principle exists and that only after there are such relationships after waiting for the existence of the ruler and minister and the father and the son is the principle put into them.388

Master Zhu continued, Nowadays, people only look at a particular phenomenon that has no shape and no form within the whole realm and then say that it’s all empty. But they also claim that they do not know [the teaching] that “empty and tranquil, and without any sign, and yet all things are luxuriantly present.”389

He also said, “Prior to the existence of things and affairs, their principles are already present. It is only due to the principle that we relate to them, however momentarily.”390 In his “Commentary on An Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate”391 [Master Zhu] said,

*

This saying appears in the Jinsi lu, chapter 1.387

Chasŏngnok 1:63a–67b (10 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 184–186.



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When examined from the standpoint of appearance, action and tranquility differ in time, and yin and yang differ in position. However, none of them is outside where the Great Ultimate exists. When examined from the standpoint of subtlety, it is “empty and tranquil, and without any sign,” but the principle of activity and tranquility and yin and yang is already present in it.

Regarding the statement “Substance and function are of one origin; there is no separating space between the manifest and the subtle”392 in the preface to the Book of Changes, Master Zhu commented as follows: When discussed in the context of principle, we refer precisely to substance, so function exists within the substance. This is why it is said that they are “of one origin.” When discussed in the context of phenomena, we are referring to that which is manifest, so what is subtle cannot exist outside the manifest. This is why it is said that “there is no separating space between.”

And Master Zhu also said, In regard to principle, substance is prior and function is posterior. Generally speaking, if the substance is specified, the principle of the function is already present and we are therefore talking about one origin. When we refer to phenomena, that which is manifest is prior whereas that which is subtle is posterior. In general, when we refer precisely to phenomena, the substance of principle can be known; therefore, it is said [in the Preface to the Book of Changes] that “there is no separating space between.”393

In his reply letter to Lü Zuqian,394 Master Zhu said, The term “Way” just means the principle of what things and phenomena should be. However, original virtue was interpreted as none other than practice. This is really not correct. At that time [i.e., of the interpretation of original virtues], if this [original virtue] was viewed as the certain way of practice, then this saying could have explained my thought, and the line “empty and tranquil . . .”395 and so on would have naturally been understood in a penetrating manner. Today I have received your letter, which quotes several sayings about “one yin and one yang,” “the ruler-minister and father-son [relationships],” “above shape [metaphysical] and below shape [physical],” “empty and tranquil and

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The ChasŎngnok physical things,” and so on. Let me analyze them all together. [These sayings about] the yin and yang and the ruler-minister and father-son [relationships] all refer to things and phenomena, what people do, “that which is physical,” and the situation in which ten thousand things are all exposed and physically dispersed. These kinds of things all have their principle of what they should be: that is, the so-called Way, the way of practice, “that which is metaphysical,” and the situation of being “empty and tranquil, and without any sign.” From a metaphysical standpoint, that which is “empty and tranquil” is originally substance and that which manifests from amidst things and phenomena is function. From a physical standpoint, things and phenomena are substance and [what is] manifested is function. In general we cannot say that the metaphysical is the substance of the Way whereas “the universal path of the world”396 is the function of the Way.397

Master Zhu also said, It makes no sense [to say that] the way of what practice should be is “the universal path” and that which is “empty and tranquil” is the fundamental origin of the Way. I do not mean that your views are simply wrong. Rather, we ought to realize that what principle should be is obviously “empty and tranquil without any sign,” not that an “empty and tranquil” thing exists independently outside of this principle. And there is a separate distinction between the metaphysical and the physical. It is imperative for us to understand that “this is substance” and “that is function,” so that we can finally talk about “one origin” and make the distinction that this is the shape [of a thing] whereas that is the principle; in this way, we can finally say that “there is no space.”398 If we are only referring to a particular thing, then we do not need to repeat that it is of “one origin” or “has no space.”399

Regarding the saying that “empty and tranquil, and without any sign, and yet all things are luxuriantly present,” I (Hwang) think that my opinion has been the same as Ki Myŏngŏn’s [Kobong’s] so far. However, having read your latest letters, after checking six to seven items of Master Zhu Xi’s explanation in detail and understanding their subtle meanings, I have realized that my previous thoughts were wrong. The meaning of two items of discussion is very clear in his letter to Lü Zuqian. Generally speaking, although the term “sign” [in the quoted statement “empty and tranquil, and without any sign. . . .”] is viewed as [something like] “sprouting signal” (emerging sign), we cannot interpret [the quoted phrase] “without



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any sign” to mean only no sprouting signals. It means, rather, that there is neither sound nor smell, neither shape nor shadow, so the meaning of what Ki Myŏngŏn said about “sprouting signal” is already included. Nevertheless, he is mistaken in saying that “after heaven and earth are already separated and the myriad things are born, the phrase ‘without any sign’ cannot be attached.” Since Chajung quoted former Confucian scholars’ explanations in his discussion, he is not particularly flawed. However, when he says that “this principle has neither shape nor shadow, but it is the principle of the myriad things and phenomena,” his use of the word “principle” twice [in the sentence] [causes the two words] to contradict each other. Therefore, one must either delete the [first] “principle” or replace the second “principle” with [the word] “appearance” (sang/xiang). [The subject of] substance and function should be explored flexibly; one should not stubbornly insist on one’s fixed views. How could the phrase “no sign” in the sentence “Physical form is already present, but its principle has no sign” be any different from the statement “empty and tranquil, and without any sign”? Discussing Whether “Ought to Be (So)” and “To Be (So)” Are Phenomena or Principle In a footnote in the “Commentary on the Investigation of Things” section of the Answers to Questions on the Great Learning (Daxue huowen; K. Taehak hongmun),400 it is asked, “Does that which cannot be changed because it is ‘to be so’ (soiyŏn/soyiran) refer to principle whereas that which ‘ought to be so’ (sodangyŏn/sodangran) and cannot stop [being so] refer to the human mind?” In his response to this question [raised by his disciple Fu Hanqing], Master Zhu Xi said, “The following sentences point to phenomena only. Regarding all phenomena, there are those that ‘ought to be’ and therefore cannot stop being so. However, we also have to illuminate why ’to be’ and the reason for being so is principle.” It is said in a footnoted comment on the eight items of the “Investigation of Things” [in the Daxue huowen]: “Regarding the myriad things of the world, there must be the reason for each thing to be so, and there must also be the rule for each thing that ought to be so. This is so-called principle.” In response to this comment, Master Zhu Xi stated,“The rule for which ‘they ought to be’ means [for example] that a ruler is benevolent, a minister is reverential, and so on, and the reason for which ‘they are so’ means why the ruler has to be benevolent, why the minister has to be reverential, and so on, [is that] heaven’s principle makes all of these be so.” In this regard, Chen

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Xinan also said, “The rule for which they ought to be is the real role of principle. The reason for which they are so refers to one level above the origin of principle.” It is said in the “Commentary on the Investigation of Things” section [of the Daxue huowen], “At the center of a thing is that which ought to be and therefore cannot stop being so, and there is also that which is so and therefore cannot be changed. One should watch over both.” In this regard, scholar Zhen Dexiu401 commented, In other words, the ruler ought to be benevolent as a ruler, the minister ought to be reverential as a minister, and so on, all of which means that moral principles ought to be like this and they should not be otherwise. Therefore, we call it “ought to be.” However, benevolence and reverence cannot be practiced forcefully by human power only; rather, they are originally innate with this principle at birth insofar as it is endowed by heaven. Accordingly, we say “to be so.” Knowing “ought to be so” is to know human nature; knowing “to be so” is to know heaven. It is, then, to know where principle originates from.

In a letter [to his teacher Zhu Xi] in the Zhuzi daquan, Chen Anqing402 said, Principle has that which is capable, that which is necessary, that which ought to be, and that which is natural. It is imperative for all of these to be together so that the way of teaching the meaning of our School of Principle (ihak/lixue) is finally established. . . . Since all phenomena are like this, the capable and the necessary represent the principle that exists before phenomena; what ought to be immediately refers to the principle beyond the phenomena. The natural is said to be straightforward, penetrating phenomena and principle.403

In his response Master Zhu Xi said, “The meaning of this question is very complete.”404 In my view, what Ki Myŏngŏn meant by saying that “what ought to be so” means phenomena and “what is so” means principle is the intended meaning of Master Zhu’s reply letter to [his disciple] Fu Hanqing. However, if we study Master Zhu’s latter two theories together with various explanations by Chen Xinan, Zhen Xishan [Dexiu], and Chen Beixi [Anqing], then what “ought to be so” is originally principle. Even if we consider Chŏng Chajung’s and Ki Myŏngŏn’s explanations in comparison [to these other explanations], there will be no difficulty. Nonetheless, if we discuss this [matter] from a deeper standpoint, it is possibly better



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to say that “what ought to be” means principle. In general, the ruler is benevolent, the minister is reverential, and so on; all of these point to the principle that the Mandate of Heaven ought [to make them] to do. This is truly the ultimate level of refined subtlety; outside this, there is no other reality regarding what “ought to be.” [Chŏng] Chajung has doubted Cai Jiezhai’s405 saying that “if one speaks of the time when yin and yang are not yet generated, the so-called Great Ultimate exists at the center of yin and yang.”* After examining it, I realized that Mr. Cai’s statement also appears in the commentary section on the “Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate.”406 If you look at it carefully, you can see immediately below the phrase “so-called Great Ultimate” [the statement] that “. . . principle is already complete; if spoken of the time when yin and yang are already generated, then the so-called Great Ultimate . . , .” and that there are altogether nineteen characters here. The meaning of this statement is reasonable and sufficient and without any flaw. However, what we see in the “Discussion of Entering the Way” section [of the Xingli daquan] is that this nineteen-character sentence is actually missing; as a result, the meaning of the whole passage becomes distorted. [I’m glad that] Chŏng Chajung has discovered this problem, which is not at all an easy task.

*

This statement appears in the Xingli daquan (General compendium of the NeoConfucian School of Human Nature and Principle), “Discussion of Entering the Way.”

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20. Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn:407 A Separate Letter It seems pointless to you that there are so many words of concern and worry in my letter. However, since this aging man [T’oegye] has spent so many days dealing with worldly things, my worry has naturally reached this point. I’ll be fortunate if you do not consider it strange. In my view, you probably will not experience this kind of feeling about things unless your effort to overcome hardship is completed during your lifetime. Nevertheless, as a man takes the first step [in the civil service system], his worthless fame will first spread throughout the world; this has been the common defect of the past and present and is a fearsome problem. In general, even though what you wished for and what you learned are not yet accomplished, it would be rather surprising if people respected you as highly as a sage or denounced you according to sagely standards. Anyone who fails to understand this problem and tolerates it for the sake of his [selfish] interests will not be able to avoid telling false stories, which will diminish his name and reputation. In general, this means not only cheating oneself but also cheating others, which is certainly unavoidable due to the growing popularity of acquiring fame. If this continues to its conclusion, one will fail and collapse. This isn’t strange, is it? To be known to others [in public life] and receive their praise is not good news for us; it is neither joyful nor desirable to have served for a time in the central government. If you happen to occupy a prominent, high-ranking position to which many people aspire, you will not be able to get on a happy path at a later stage [of your life]. At present, you may not see the urgency of my cautionary words; however, later, when you have to deal with such a situation [as I experienced], you will certainly rethink my advice. Hopefully, you will be mindful of and careful with [what I am saying] for the sake of your well-being.408 Our exchange of letters may happen like this today; however, on the day when you acquire the political power that [makes you] strongly stand out, it will become difficult for a useless man [like myself] to exchange these kinds of futile words with you. This is why I say everything now.

Chasŏngnok 1:67b–68a (2 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 186.



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21. Reply Letter to No Ijae409 Last year I sent you a letter very earnestly raising questions for discussion. Since then, I have returned to the Yŏngnam area due to my [chronic] illness and also to hide myself in deep seclusion. I barely heard about your well-being when I visited Seoul. Other than that, it is quite difficult to exchange our news because we are always a thousand miles (li) apart; how can our situation be any worse than this? With that in mind, I did not really know whether the letter I previously sent you had arrived there. If it did [I wondered whether] you didn’t consider it noteworthy or you were being very careful [in analyzing it]. I dared not ask you about this, but now that I have unexpectedly received your reply with [your] interpretation, I feel deeply moved as I read its subtle meaning and also go over the past years [of our interaction]. It is a good idea to be cautious about “being too close to a master who seems to have a brilliant reputation.” But this advice cannot be taken [as] uniformly [valid]. Some people pretend to be wise and gain honor by falsely representing themselves or by being deceitful and making up lies; in this case, any disaster and failure that results is truly self-generated. There are those, however, whose honor is abundant because they develop a luminous internal life, maintain an impressive outlook, and practice the fulfillment of virtue. Even in this case, criticism and disapproval follow honor, [a situation that] cannot entirely be overcome. How, then, can we say that this is one’s own fault? As people in the old days said, “If you truly do not maintain your honor, there is no [other] way to do good.” Nowadays people are arrogant toward each other, reject those who do good things, and publicly denounce those who pursue learning. And they say, “Despise attachment to honor and be careful about inviting disaster.” There are those who act good [in public] but become lazy on their own. There are those who fail at learning in the midst of pursuing it and make excuses [for it] that are equally bad. All traditions and customs are bound to break down, insofar as they are daily in decline and follow a path toward collapse. Alas, who would ever think that a medicine for controlling sickness could become a poison for deluding people? In general, it is wrong to say that what you have suffered from [political persecution and exile] would damage your reputation. At the same time, it is not as if you have lived with birds and animals in seclusion while abandoning people and the world. So what can you do? My only Chasŏngnok 1:68b–71b (7 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 186–188.

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thought is that you definitely should not let what comes from the outside affect your mind; in this way you can ultimately prevent tainting your honor by exerting more effort and working harder. What you now say about your parents fundamentally involves human feelings to the utmost [extent], so it is not something that can be neglected. It is out of the question. Nevertheless, if you say that as a result you can no longer be dedicated to learning, then I see that although this [situation] originates with your bitter grievance and deep lamentation [over your exile], it is not the truth. I cannot help being doubtful about your situation. Have you not thought about the last political persecution: how [serious] it was and what feelings you have toward it?410 Why did you hide yourself and bow down and then abandon your honor and destroy yourself through heavy drinking? According to Li Yanping,411 “When you cannot overcome your [wounded] mind-and-heart due to a great deal of justified anger, it would be somewhat comforting if you just consider the extent to which people in olden times suffered from their justified anger and compare it with your situation.” Generally speaking, examples such as this would be [considered] a normal, everyday matter like food and clothing. Because there is doubt in my mind, I cannot but express my thoughts here, yet I do not know what you are thinking. One part of the Sukhŭng yamaejam412 presents a way of learning. ­Although I cannot practice it myself, I hope to deal with it [later]. I was therefore happy and fortunate to have obtained an answer to what you earnestly asked me last time. Regarding that which [I expressed as] doubtful, I would not flatter anyone falsely for what I felt good about, so I wished to make my letter reasonable by explaining the doubtful according to my thinking. However, at that time I should have talked about only those points in doubt and should not have corrected my views immediately. In retrospect, I sweated because I was highly embarrassed. Now that I have read your reply, I see that it addresses only moral principles and not the material self in removing, seeking, following, and managing daily things. It also does not explain the ignorant and lazy mind that remains stingy and stubborn. If we carefully consider various exchanges of letters of scholarly discussion since ancient times, we discover that it was not only difficult [for the scholars] to try to affirm rightness but also very common [for them] to oppose and attack each other as deadly enemies. So far you have continued to exert great effort in scholarly learning; had you not studied how to overcome the self, how could you have ever accomplished [your learning] to this level? Furthermore, you were forced to defend your views repeatedly and also were taught to realize that if you did not accord with moral principles, you would not be left alone [i.e., something would be



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done to you]. It wouldn’t be acceptable if I offered an opinion at the beginning but did not give my full effort at the end. Therefore, I dare continue below with what we previously discussed, item by item, and also attach a couple of wrong points. Please go over this [attachment]. Mr. Kim’s explanation is in the same context [I discussed above]. The Jizhu and Zhangju (Collected commentaries)413 have no interpretive errors over one hundred generations! This is because [it is certain that] these texts are based on the collection of the strong points of many scholarly explanations, [highlighting] their strong points through a highly refined and accurate [process of] editing; moreover, anything [found to be] unreasonable was unhesitatingly always corrected and revised, thereby producing [a compilation of] the utmost truth and goodness. And these texts were finally completed without having to correct any more points. Accordingly, even if you revise an interpretation ten times, it will show no defect but rather becomes more accurate. The reason why I am repeating what I doubted is because I probably knew something to support [my point], although we did not find a big error.414 We need not be concerned with your statement about “becoming the mark”; neither does your analogical phrase “be penetrating by piercing through the difficulty” require any further explanation. Thinking further, I would like to talk about one more thing here. In compiling the Jizhu and Zhangju commentaries [on the Four Books], the old master [Zhu Xi] analyzed every word, and his work included everything from recording the meaning of a sentence to discussing the meaning of a page. In doing so, he consistently followed the intended teaching of each [original] text at the time [of editing] by presenting shallow things as shallow, deep things as deep, near ones as near, and distant ones as distant. There were simply none—whether refined or coarse, small or large—that were not treated in this way. Textual wording was therefore concise and certainly refined, so that not even one word could be added or deleted. And regarding elaboration and dialectical discussion, Master Zhu composed the [Daxue] huowen (Answers to questions [on the Great Learning]) separately in order to fulfill his scholarly dedication. Because we now have a single volume that combines all of the Jizhu and Zhangju commentaries, we can talk about shallow things as “deep” or near ones as “distant.” This means that each of the commentaries has its own substance, not that each is made to be equivalent to the whole volume. But what I doubted before was mainly about this issue. Furthermore, regarding the end of interpretation [in the commenetaries], I can see the flaw of discussing reverence415 in terms of “[concentrating on] one thing” (singlemindedness). What do you think? I’m not sure about your opinions.

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I do not know what kind of scholar Chen Nantang416 was [in China]. Considering his work, it does not appear that he existed before Master Zhu Xi’s generation. If he was after Master Zhu and before [Xu] Luzhai,417 it seems that he would be on the Zhu Xi school’s list of students. But why do we not see his name on the list? I do not have on this mountain enough of the classics and other books [to allow me to] examine any original documents to provide this supportive historical evidence. Anyway, I am reading the Zechen zhi wen (Essay on censuring deeply)418 again, which makes me anxious and frustrated. I would be happy if you would please instruct me further in detail.



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22. Reply Letter to Ki Myŏngŏn419 In 1558 Hwang visited Seoul, and this visit turned out to be a real failure.420 On the other hand, however, I felt very happy because I was able to meet with you, Myŏngŏn. Since coming back to the south, I have kept myself in seclusion and experienced lingering, deep regret for running so far away without any hope of seeing you again in the future. Fortunately, I found my pleasure again when [Chŏng] Chajung delivered a letter to me and also after obtaining an explanation of the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions.421 Accordingly, I hereby write to express my various lowly opinions. Since I also found some doubtful points about the FourSeven statement in that explanation and did not dare to accept it unhesitatingly, I will do my duty to correct it on behalf of its author by generally formulating my humble views here. In general, seeking help from a true, honest friend is to realize and overcome one’s foolishness, because it is impossible not to do so; this effort would indeed be very honest. After some reflection, I had wanted to fix a couple of unreasonable points among my views, but I just could not get it done on time. This autumn, [Chŏng] Chajung came back from Seoul and showed me two pages of your letter to Chŏng Chŏngi,422 where I noticed a few paragraphs regarding my arguments as well as other points I had previously realized on my own. This letter stated the following at the end: “Please reply to me by analyzing [them] item by item. I have been strongly wishing to be taught.” You have kindly arranged for someone [to make] the thousand-mile journey to deliver your letter, which helped me understand [your views] in detail. You also attached a book, Chŏng yumunja (On correcting wrong words). The letter presented a great deal of supportive [textual] evidence very thoroughly in discussing your views; it clearly revealed your thoughtful objective to teach this confused person.423 As I reflect further, I would also like to ask you: Now that the hot weather is gone and a cool wind is blowing, is your daily scholarly life bright and fortunate and your body and mind peaceful? I am a shallowminded and very clumsy man who has been stuck with lifelong illness. So if I engage in civil service, I get blamed for wasting a government salary and holding an official position, and if I retreat from it, I’m rebuked for neglecting public responsibility and causing embarrassment. I’m now weak and aging to the extent that my mind and eyes have become blurry and my body looks like a dried, shrunken wisteria tree, so I do not seem Chasŏngnok 1:71b–76a (10 original folios), in TC, vol. 3, 188–190.

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to belong to any group of people. Since time is already gone, it is not possible to recover the past, even though [I might] wish, “If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die in the evening.”424 I do not have either an illuminating mentor or strong friends who would both criticize and encourage me daily. I only know about being attached to the inner world of damaged and torn book pages, but this is [only limited knowledge that is] similar to watching the sky through a large hole or measuring the ocean’s water with a small gourd bowl; in other words, the goal is not completed, but [rather amounts to] only a tiny amount of acquired knowledge that can easily become scattered when shaken. Therefore, talking about reputation and moral principles would be [a pointless effort], like tying up the wind or holding a shadow. When I tried to correct my mind’s track or write certain words, it seems that my arms are pulled from the back as things contradict each other. Although you, my good friend, advised me well to the utmost, I worry whether I will [be able to] welcome [your advice] open-mindedly and keep it in my heart so as to honor your enormously sincere intention even for one moment out of ten thousands. However, since a thick letter has just arrived, I cannot but seek your instruction by replying to it. Unless an unintelligent person [like me] continuously refines [his thinking] about texts and moral principles, he would not be able to understand them through self-realization. What you have discussed in your letter is comprehensively extensive and deeply subtle; it is indeed endless, so I have not been able to grasp its main points yet. Moreover, because people continuously come to visit me, I just cannot find enough time to study your letter. But I also cannot have the mail delivery man wait for me any longer, so I am now writing my brief reply to you. My detailed item-by-item discussion of your thesis will be prepared later, as I expect Yu T’aeho425 to deliver it to you. I sincerely apologize for the delay; is this all right? I see that you have learned broadly and researched deeply like a fastrunning horse on a very long track. Ordinary people, once they had done their work properly, would overestimate themselves and not hesitate to be content. You do not like achieving things [with help] from outside; rather, you strenuously continue to seek the [inner] will [to accomplish your studies]. [I understand that] you were assigned to a lower official position [in the central government]; this would also be a suitable opportunity for you. Heaven is helping you to become a more complete person, like a jade; how fortunate this is for you! What I explained in my letter of last year you have already comprehended on your own, and your comprehension is not affected by my trivial personal worry and my excessive mode of thinking. Your present letter does not get into any unreasonable



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points [I may have made] and kindly explains things to me over and over again. I also see its great generosity to the extent that there is nothing that it does not tolerate, and there is no sign of its being careless by the use of loose words. I feel very fortunate in this respect. Regarding the theory of engaging in government work and thereafter retreating to home life, I have studied what Huian (Zhu Xi) asked his friend about what [Hu] Kanghou426 decided by himself, and, in fact, it is identical to what you have said. However, Zhu Xi [was usually firm about his] correct views, like a strong wall that has received ten thousand blows: He rarely moved forward or backward merely in accordance with other people’s words. This, too, should not be ignored in our proper understanding. It is also said that “since I have experienced the difficulties of the world, I could do nothing other than contend with this [troublesome] era” Although this statement sounds almost like the listless and daunted words of an old man [like myself] and identical to [those from someone] expelled from the [political] world by a strong force at a young age, you deeply appreciated the meaning of the situation. How could anyone do so without being skillful with moral principles and adept at worldly wisdom [at conducting oneself]? Moreover, if a mediocre medical doctor does not necessarily know “the origin of a disease,” how can he blame it [for the illness] and prescribe medication for it? Nevertheless, as we heard earlier, Zhu Xi said that if you know the [nature of the] disease and wish to cure it, the mind-and-heart of this wish to cure is necessarily the medicine to cure it. Hopefully, you do not look to other people for the medicine; rather, if, in order to treat [the problem], you seek it, then there will definitely be a mysteriously wonderful effect.427 This is not quite like a bitter remedy in the mouth. Your saying that “if learning is done to the utmost, there will be no difficulty whatsoever with conducting oneself” is a mistaken opinion [taken] from the old time, for which reason I was doubtful that such a bright person as yourself could have stated such a view. Now that I finally read your letter, I definitely recognize that I failed to sufficiently understand other people’s words. Your saying that “I hold fast to both ways, such as engaging in official public life and [retiring to take up a private life]” and so on is about how very bright people manage themselves, which is a very good point. [However,] the statement in your letter, “Look at it by candlelight and divine it with tortoise shells after many calculations,” does not apply to an old and foolish person like me, but it will be relevant for a very bright person like you. One statement, [the one] about “the insect without bones,” that appears in the middle of your letter truly caused me to laugh. This [analogy] therefore has a very important meaning (literally,

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“the insect obviously cannot turn over a cart wheel and must watch lest it be stepped on”) for our serious consideration (literally, “this looks like a place that attracts a butcher’s knife, so it should not be taken lightly”). Please carefully review this in detail. Master Cheng Yi and Master Zhu Xi were exceptionally strong insofar as each scholar lived in the world with his great reputation [remaining intact]. Despite everything they did, they did not lose their mind-and-heart and therefore did not suffer from the troubles of the world. This is because when each had [to deal with] something uncomfortable, he declined [to become involved] without the least hesitation and did so rightly according to his will. Nowadays, this one [true] path has been blocked and then destroyed forever. Therefore, even if there were to be one path, it would either not receive any attention or would surely generate public anger as well as covetousness among some people. As a result, one becomes indigent and stringent about certain [financial and/or political] matters, and finally, unable to avoid [performing one’s duties] by resigning from [one’s official post], will end up quitting only after causing more trouble with others. This is why, [the first problem is that] once a scholar takes on an official position in the central governing body, he, like others, becomes like a fish caught on a baited hook; therefore, [even the group of] people who hate evil cannot escape this reality. [The scond problem is that] obsequious and sordid people carefully watch each other and do nothing but maintain a mentality of using evasive words and fawning over others. Indeed, these two patterns [of the problem] all lead to embarrassment. A person may not care to repent in the midst of [following these patterns], [but upon his death, when] the lid of his coffin is finally closed and his coffin is carried out for burial, the unfortunate news [of his behavior] spreads in all four directions. Should a person without great virtue suddenly take up a prominent official position, he will be unable to deal with its duties and responsibilities properly, thereby creating a false path [that will end in] failure. The person who does not intentionally stop his noisy talk because he is not truly sincere is on the path to damaging himself. If we reflect on the way in which people in the past experienced certain downfalls and stumbles, [we will see that] these downfalls and stumbles were all due to the same problem. I thought that in order to pursue the [Confucian] learning of the Way it is best to follow a scholarly life in seclusion. That’s what I wrote in my previous letter to you. In general, human beings should not be like the moth that flies into a flame; it is not a natural principle for one to “stand under a [stone] wall on the verge of collapse”428 and then get buried when it falls down. Those who take on official positions and are not seriously ill



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should certainly carry out their duties fully [and to the best of their ability]. There would be regular standards for the sake of “taking the bear’s palm” and “rejecting the fish.”429 [As Mencius] said, “It is not to allow any double-mindedness regardless of the longevity or brevity of life, but to cultivate one’s person and wait for [destiny . . . to take its own course].”430 As is implicit in this saying, how can we view engaging in a public career and retiring to private home life as different from each other? The whole meaning of this saying is already expressed in your letter as follows: “Listen to heaven’s mandate after sincerity is practiced to the utmost.” In short, if you live up to this message without any change whatsoever by holding fast your mind, then you will not betray your learning. I will be happy even if you alone work diligently and become a role model for reviving other scholars in our school of the Way. Although Kim Hasŏ431 worked in the grand Confucian temple and Jade Hall,432 he also enjoyed himself in cities and lost his mind-and-heart to the material world. The starting point of his study was the Daoist school of Laozi and Zhuangzi, after all, and, consequently, he got into the difficulty of composing poetry and drinking wine in middle age. This is indeed sad! However, I heard that in his late years he dedicated himself to our school of the Way. Recently, I read his scholarly writing, which I borrowed from someone. His formal views are very clear. I think he attained that level of scholarship without great effort; this is very impressive. I am extremely sad and regretful to hear that he has just passed away. I hereby attach a letter of condolence for his son; please forward my sincere condolences to him. I have been familiar with the name Yi Iljae433 for a long time, but I did not know enough about his scholarship. Now that you have shown me the letters you exchanged with him in discussing the Great Ultimate, I feel very fortunate to learn briefly of this idea, even though I do not have extra space here to cite it with detailed comments. At this time, right and wrong points in his writing do not need to be mentioned specifically, so I will wait and tell you later more about my doubts [about his theory]. I just think that it has the defect of “knowing only oneself [one’s own views] without understanding that there are others,” as people in the past said. Since this is not a small defect, what can we do about it? It is not necessary to debate the misreading of the meaning of a text [that happens] on just one or two occasions, but we can discuss its scholarship together only after removing this defect. I may be very presumptuous and careless, but after examining [Iljae’s writing] carefully, it seems to me that the way in which you have identified his flaw is precisely accurate, item by item. However, why is it that

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you do not seem to [be able to] overcome a similar kind of anxiety you have somewhat developed? Or, I might have misunderstood your wording in this context because I stay here in seclusion from the outside and cannot leave this place, which should certainly be considered further in detail. Who is Wang Yuanze?434 From which text does your statement about him originate, and what does it mean? I earnestly hope that you will definitely teach me435 about it at a later date. And I also look forward to receiving your other viewpoints later.

Notes

Preface 1. See Kalton 1998 for his full translation of T’oegye’s Sŏnghak sipto. 2. Consult Kalton et al. 1994 for a full translation of T’oegye’s Four-Seven Letters. See Chung 1995b for my full-length discussion of this topic and its practical implications for self-cultivation. For a listing and locus classicus of the “Four Beginnings” of virtue and the “Seven Emotions,” see n. 44 to my introduction to the present volume; a brief discussion of the topic appears in the introduction under the section subhead “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions: Heaven’s Principle and Human Desires.”

A Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style 1. For details, see my introduction under the heading “T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle.” 2.  In current scholarship, the term kyŏng/jing is translated as “reverence” (de Bary 1981, 2004), “to be reverent” (Lau 1979), or “seriousness” (Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a). I have interpreted it as “reverence” or “reverential seriousness” in my previous works (Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010b, 2011, 2015). The flexible yet unifying meaning of kyŏng/jing is discussed further in the introduction in the section titled “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation.”

Translator’s Introduction 1. The Chasŏngnok consists of 153 folios (1:1a–76a original pages), all of which are included in the T’oegye chŏnsŏ (TC; Complete works of Yi T’oegye) vol. 3, 151– 190; with some small differences, many of these letters also appear in the “Letters” sections of the T’oegye chŏnsŏ. T’oegye is Yi’s well-known literary name (ho), whereas his given and courtesy names are Hwang and Kyŏngho, respectively. Throughout this book, we refer to him as “T’oegye” or “Yi T’oegye” because this is how he has been best known traditionally and internationally. 2. Yulgok (1536–1584) is Yi’s literary name (ho); his given name and courtesy names are I and Sukhŏn, respectively. Hereafter, we refer to him as “Yulgok” or “Yi Yulgok,” the name by which he is best known. For my brief description of his biography, see T’oegye’s reply letter to Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14, n. 257).

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3. Probably quoting Analects 4:22 (Lau 1979, 75). I also note that T’oegye was not concerned with giving full textual citation for this statement or most other direct or indirect quotations he makes in the Chasŏngnok or his other writings, as was common practice among thinkers and scholars in traditional East Asia. 4. “Cheng-Zhu” is comprised of the two family names of Song Chinese NeoConfucians: two brothers, Cheng Hao (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi (1033–1107), as well as the famous thinker Zhu Xi (1130–1120), who established the so-called Cheng-Zhu school. 5. In Korea “Cheng-Zhu” (K. Chŏngju; see n. 4 above) is used interchangeably with Chujahak because Chuja/Zhuzi refers to the Song philosopher’s honorific title “master” and his family name, Zhu, as this school of Neo-Confucianism was established by him. This tradition is also known as Sŏngnihak (Learning of Human Nature and Principle) because it emphasizes the “learning” (hak/xue) of two metaphysical and ethical concepts, i/li (principle) and sŏng/xing (human nature). In the Cheng-Zhu transmission of Neo-Confucianism, these are two of the most important concepts in the tradition of metaphysics and ethics in China, Korea, and Japan. 6. These four attachments (short essays) for further discussion are included in Chasŏngnok letters to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 1); Kim Paekyong, Kim Kahaeng, and Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 3); Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8); and Yi Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14), respectively. See the translations in this volume of each of these letters for more information. 7. Except as otherwise noted, most of the biographical information that follows is drawn from his Chasŏngnok letters; Yŏnbo (T’oegye’s chronological biography), in TC, vol. 3, 576–620; and Ŏnhaengnok (Record of T’oegye’s words and acts) 1:1a–6:35a, in TC, vol. 4, 9–261. 8. The current literature on T’oegye and Korean Neo-Confucian thought in English includes the following: Kalton et al. 1994; Kalton 1988; Ro 1989; de Bary and Haboush 1985; Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a, 2010b, 2011c; Keum Jang-tae 1998; Yun Sa-soon 1991; and various articles by Tu Weiming, Julia Ching, William T. de Bary, Youn Sa-sun, etc. Korean-language works include those by Kŭm Changt’ae, Yun Sasun, Pae Chongho, Yi Sangŭn, Ch’oe Kŭndŏk, and others. Japanese works are Abe Yoshio 1965; Abe Yoshio et al. 1977; Takahashi Susumu 1986; and others. For details, see the bibliography at the end of this book. 9. Ŏnhaengnok 6:21a, in TC, vol. 4, 254. See also Yulgok’s account of T’oegye’s scholarship and character in the Ŏnhaengnok 6:15b–17a, in TC, vol. 4, 251–252. 10. See his Chosŏn yugyo yŏnwŏn (Origin of Korean Confucianism), 22–23. 11. See Abe Yoshio’s article, “Development of Neo-Confucianism in Japan, Korea, and China: A Comparative Study” (1970, 22). 12. Abe Yoshio 1965; 1970, 57–59. 13. See Abe Yoshio 1977, 9. 14. Most of his poems are found in TC 1:1a–5:43a (vol. 1, 47–162). This is a well-researched topic among Korean scholars in Korean literature and poetry. Their research areas of T’oegye’s poetry include general poetry studies, Neo-Con-



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fucian poetry, traditional Korean poetry, comparative poetry and literature, etc. The consensus is that T’oegye’s poems may be grouped into several kinds: nature poems, self-reflection poems, history-reflection poems, doctrine-explanatory poems, journey poems, mourning ritual poems, society-related poems, etc. For this topic, consult Korean sources, esp. Kwŏn Obong 1992; Yi Changwu and Chang Sehu 2007; and Kim Yŏngsuk 2009. Another good introductory work in Korean is Wang Su 1981. 15. T’oegye’s two famous tongam ŏnji (Words of the will at Tongam) poems also show a similar appreciation for the natural scenery—the foothills and rocks, clouds and fog, and streams—around the nearby Tongam site. Each of the Tongam poems consists of eight short lines, each of which is composed of seven Chinese characters. Returning home encouraged in him such a genuine love of nature, the influence of which we can see in his poetry’s poetic and aesthetic meaning as well as in the contemplative and spiritual orientation of his thought. For more on this topic, see Chung 2011c. I discuss this aspect of his writing further in the discussion of “Self-Cultivation” in this introduction. 16.  I have discussed elsewhere this topic in terms of T’oegye’s love of nature, his spirituality of reverence, and Confucian ecological thinking (Chung 2011c). For more, see also n. 123 below. 17. This contains extensive quotations from over one hundred authors, including Zhu Xi, on such subjects as Neo-Confucian metaphysics, ethics, psychology, and government. As one of Confucianism’s most widely read reference books, the Xingli daquan was of major importance in establishing the orthodox doctrines of Neo-Confucianism in both China and Korea. 18. See Ŏnhaengnok 1:1b, in TC, vol. 4, 169. 19. For a brief biography of Nam Sibo (given name Ŏn’gyŏng; 1528–1594), see n. 3 to T’oegye’s first letter to him (Chasŏngnok 1). Nam was better known by his courtesy name, so we refer to him as Nam Sibo throughout this book. 20. Referring to the king’s second call for T’oegye in 1556 to accept a high official position in the prestigious Hongmun’gwan (Office of the Special Counselors), which dealt with classics, historical studies, royal writing, government documents, and Confucian principles for rulership. 21. For a brief biography of Chŏng Chajung (given name Yuil; 1533–1576), see n. 58 to T’oegye’s first letter to him (Chasŏngnok 4). He was better known by his courtesy name, so we refer to as Chŏng Chajung hereafter. 22. For more on Kim Tonsŏ (given name Puryun; 1531–1598), see n. 185 to T’oegye’s letter to him (Chasŏngnok 13). He was better known by his courtesy name, so we refer to him as Kim Tonsŏ throughout this book. 23. Yulgok is Yi’s literary name; regarding his other names, see n. 2 above. Yulgok was another eminent thinker-scholar who greatly contributed to the development of Korean Neo-Confucianism. He was thirty-five years younger than T’oegye. For more points on his biography, see n. 257 at the beginning of T’oegye’s letter to him (Chasŏngnok 14). 24. Regarding this interesting point, I am indebted to Sun Joo Kim’s article

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“Fathers’ Letters Concerning Their Children’s Education” (Haboush 2009, 277– 286), which includes T’oegye’s 162 letters to his son, Yi Chun. See Yi and Chŏn 2014 for a recent Korean translation and study of T’oegye’s 162 letters to his son. 25. Here we may also ask why T’oegye worked in many official positions for a number of years during his thirties and forties if he was not really interested in government work and had no ambition for political power. The answer seems to be that as a responsible follower of Confucianism he knew he had to fulfill his duty to serve in public life while supporting his family. However, he gradually became more interested in pursuing the other side of the Confucian way: studying, writing, and teaching. In fact, his determination to retire to his hometown for a scholarly life became much stronger after experiencing political factionalism and corruption in the central government. 26. It is further suggested that T’oegye also discovered the effectiveness of letter writing in the formation of an intellectual community through his school’s practice of writing. This practice also shaped the Confucian mode of political participation in Korea from the seventeenth century onward. For more on this interesting point, see Hwisang Cho’s doctoral dissertation (2010). 27.  For a brief biography of Ki Kobong (1527–1572), see n. 336 to T’oegye’s first letter to him (Chasŏngnok 17). Ki Kobong (his literary name; given name Taesŭng; courtesy name Myŏngŏn; official rank title Chŏngja) being the name by which he is best known, I therefore refer to him as Kobong or Ki Kobong in this book. 28. Note that Ijae (1515–1590) was No’s literary name and Susin his given name. He once had a top government position as the chief state councilor and was one of T’oegye’s close junior colleagues. For No’s biography, see n. 409 to T’oegye’s letter to him (Chasŏngnok 21). 29. This is about No’s twenty-year exile, which was one outcome of the political persecution known as the Ŭlsa Literati Purge of 1545. “Literati purge” (sahwa) ­refers to a series of four bloody persecutions between 1498 and 1545 that Neo-Confucian scholar-officials (sarim) suffered. For my further comments and other relevant works, see Chasŏngnok 21, n. 410. A good historical discussion of this topic is Wagner 1975, which covers the first three of the four literati purges; see also my brief discussion of Korean Neo-Confucianism and literati purges in Chung 1995b, 16–18. 30. Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235) was also known by his literary name, Xishan. His Xinjing was circulating in Korea in an expanded version entitled the Xinjing fuzhu (K. Simgyŏng puju; Classic for the mind-and-heart supplemented and annotated) compiled by the Ming Chinese scholar Cheng Minzheng (1445–1499). It was first published in China in 1492; due to T’oegye’s influence, it became one of the most important Neo-Confucian texts in Korea, where it was printed over twenty-five times from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries. A relevant Korean study of this text is Yun Pyŏngt’ae’s article (1979, 83–113). An excellent discussion in English of Zhen Dexiu and the Xinjing is by de Bary (1981, 67–205). 31. In Chung 2004 and 2010a, I discuss several moral and “religious” aspects of T’oegye’s simhak in relation to his Neo-Confucian philosophy, moral psychology, and spirituality.



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32. For example, see my comments on T’oegye’s simhak in his eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11, n. 147) and his letter to Kim Tonsŏ, another leading disciple (Chasŏngnok, 13, nn. 205, 215). 33. See Kalton 1988 for a discussion of T’oegye’s simhak in Kalton’s translation of the latter’s Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams of sage learning). 34. For the listing and locus classicus of the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions, see Chasŏngnok 18, nn. 356–357; I discuss this topic later in this introduction in the section entitled “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions.” See also Chung 1995b for a full discussion of this topic. 35. For a quick introduction to the Song Neo-Confucian philosophy of i/li and ki/qi, see the beginning of the section entitled “T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle” in this introduction. 36. See TC 14:8b (vol. 1, 364). 37.  Including the Wŏn iki (Principle and material force as the origin of things), Iki sŏl (Principle and material force explained), and T’aehŏ sŏl (Great vacuity explained), all of which are in his Hwadamjip (Collected works of Sŏ Hwadam). My source for Hwadamjip 2:11b–15a is Pae Chongho 1980. 38. According to Hwadam, ki is formless and has the unlimited possibility needed for creating and transforming heaven, earth, human beings, and things. For him, i is only an element inside ki, and there is no i outside of ki (Hwadamjip 2:14a). Ki is the actual energy and creative entity, while i only plays the supporting role in ki’s activity. His philosophy of ki-monism was carried on by his disciples such as Yi Ku (d. 1573), Pak Sun (d.u.), and Min Sun (d.u.) in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. 39. For a brief description of this text, see also Chan, “How T’oegye Understood Zhu Xi,” in de Bary and Haboush 1985, 298–301. 40. See Abe Yoshio 1965; 1970, 57–59. 41. In the Meiji Restoration period, Yabu Shin’an, for example, said that the development of the Japanese Shushigaku was greatly influenced by T’oegye, who inherited the Cheng-Zhu legacy. Cited in Yun Sa-sun 1980, 2. 42. Consult Chan 1985, 298–301, for details on this text. 43. Wang Yangming (1472–1529), the leading Neo-Confucian of Ming China, needs no introduction here. For his life and thought, see Chan 1963a (a full translation of Wang’s Chuanxi lu and other major writings) and 1963b; and Ching 1976. For more information on Chen Xianzhang, see n. 46 below. 44. The “Four” of the Four-Seven debate refers to the Four Beginnings6 [of Virtue] (sadan/siduan) mentioned in the Mencius (2A:6, 6A:6; Lau 1970, 82–83, 163); for the complete listing and my discussion of the Four, see Chasŏngnok 18, n. 356. “Seven” refers to the Seven Emotions (ch’ilchŏng/qiqing) as mentioned in the Book of Rites and the Doctrine of the Mean (chap. 1); for the complete listing of the Seven, see Chasŏngnok 18, n. 357. See also the section entitled “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” in this introduction. 45.  See Chung 1995b (chaps. 1, 2, and 4) for a detailed discussion of this topic. 46. Chen Xianzhang was the founder of the Changmen school, named after

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his native place. For a brief period, Chen was a student of Wu Yubi (1391–1469), a leading Neo-Confucian in the early Ming period who emphasized Cheng-Zhu teachings of mind cultivation. Wu affirmed the value of quiet sitting meditation and self-reflection for cultivating reverential seriousness. Although Chen was influenced by Wu, he claimed that his own method of self-cultivation did not come from Wu. He later rejected entirely the rational approach of the Cheng-Zhu school, namely, the investigation of things and extension of knowledge, in favor of his own philosophy, which focuses more on quiet sitting and mind cultivation. This is illustrated in his Shijiao, a lyrical appreciation of nature, which cites very little of the Cheng-Zhu teachings. For the life and thought of Chen, see Huang Zongxi 1987, 70–89. A good English discussion of Wu Yubi and Chen Xianzhang is de Bary 1975, 19–30. 47. See Chung 1992a on the Wang Yangming school of Neo-Confucianism in Korea. 48. For a full English translation and interpretation of the Sŏnghak sipto, consult Kalton 1988. 49.  This diagram consists of three subdiagrams together with T’oegye’s commentaries. For my translation of the third subdiagrams, see Chung 1995b (app. 1); for a full translation of all diagrams, see Kalton 1988. 50. This topic is discussed further below, in sections on “T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle” and “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions.” 51. For details on the list and locus classicus of the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions, see my description of the Four-Seven letters in n. 44 above, and the discussion of “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” in this introduction. See also Chasŏngnok 18, nn. 356 and 357. 52. For these points about T’oegye’s character and more examples of similar letters, see Chasŏngnok 9 and 10, nn. 121 and 133, respectively; Chasŏngnok 13, n. 235; Chasŏngnok 17, n. 339. 53.  This quoted statement originally appeared in ZZYL 95:21b. It is also included in the Jinsi lu (Reflections on things at hand) compiled by Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian; translation is from Chan 1967, 25–26. 54. ZZYL 95:21b; see also Chan 1967, 26. 55. For Zhu Xi’s philosophy, see Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; for T’oegye and other Korean thinkers on this topic, see Kalton 1988; Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a; or Ro 1989 (about Yi Yulgok). 56. For the Song Neo-Confucian doctrine on “one principle and many manifestations,” see Chan 1963b (chap. 34), 1967 (introduction), 1986a; de Bary 1975, 1981; or Gardner 1990, 49–50, 90–97. For Zhu Xi and T’oegye on this topic, see Chung 1995b, 44, 65, 81; Kalton 1988; or Tu 1978. 57. I note that T’oegye was indebted to Zhu Xi for this key statement about the mutual inseparability of i and ki; for Zhu’s words, see ZZYL 1:2b, or ZZQS 49:1a; see also Chan 1963b, 634. 58. See ZZYL 1:2b or ZZQS 49:1a; see also Chan 1963b, 634).



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59. ZZYL 1:1a–3a or ZZWJ 46:24a–b, 59:45b. 60. Chunggŏ was Hwang Chullyang’s better-known courtesy name; hereafter he is referred to as Hwang Chunggŏ. He had a regional official position and was also one of T’oegye’s leading disciples who liked studying Zhu Xi’s philosophical letters. 61. The original version of this letter to Ki Kobong is included in TC 16:11a (vol. 1, 407). T’oegye’s Four-Seven letter to him in the Chasŏngnok (18) is actually an expanded and revised version. 62.  Apparently, Lo’s Kunzhi ji became a popular text among Korean thinkers, including Yi Yulgok. Yulgok’s thought emphasized the inseparability and oneness of i and ki, as well as an empirical and practical philosophy of ki, which appears to be influenced by Lo. Regarding Lo’s Kunzhi ji, see Bloom 1987. For my detailed discussion of this topic, see Chung 1995b. 63. For Zhu Xi on the idea of “supreme principle,” see ZZYL 5:3b. 64. T’oegye’s letter to Ki Kobong, TC 18:31a (vol. 1, 465). 65. His sŏngnihak (philosophy of human nature and principle) is deeply grounded in such a philosophy of i. After T’oegye’s time, this school of thought continued to develop with his disciples such as Yu Sŏngnyong (1542–1607), Kim Sŏngil (1538–1598), Chŏng Ku (1543–1620), and their followers. It became known as the Yŏngnam school (Yŏngnam hakp’a), which was also identified as the School of the Primacy of Principle (Churip’a). The term yŏngnam refers to Kyŏngsang province, a southeastern region of the Korean peninsula. 66. See Chan 1963b, 98. 67. See Lau 1970, 82–83, 163. 68. See TC 7:24a–b (vol. 1, 204–205). 69. For more relevant original sources, consult Zhu Xi’s ZZYL 4:11a–13b and ZZQS 42:4b, 42:6b–7a, 9b–10a, 43:2b–4a (Chan 1963b, 613, 616–617, 623–624). T’oegye had to clarify this whole topic in terms of feelings and self-cultivation in his Four-Seven debate. For details, see my full-length study of the same topic (Chung 1995b, 47–48, 60–61, 66–69, 80–84, 104–106). 70. See Yishu 1:7b–8a; Chan 1963b, 528. This was further mentioned in Zhu Xi’s “Commentary on Cheng Mingdao’s Discourse on Human Nature”: “That water may be turbid to a ‘greater or smaller extent’ is similar to the fact that one’s qi may be clear or dark and pure or impure in varying degree” leading to good or evil, respectively (ZZWJ 67:17a–b; Chan 1963b, 598–599). 71. For my comments on this theme, see Chasŏngnok 8, nn. 111 and 114. 72. Before T’oegye’s time, Neo-Confucians in Song China such as Zhu Xi and Zhen Dexiu discussed the idea of simhak/xinxue; see, e.g., Chan 1986a and de Bary 1981, 2004. I also discuss T’oegye’s simhak in detail elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 124–138); see also Kalton 1988. 73. See my comments on his eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11, n. 147). 74. See ZZWJ 64:28b; Chan 1963b, 601. In this regard, T’oegye’s Sim mu

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ch’eyong pyŏn (Critique on the saying that “the mind does not have substance and function”) is also relevant; see TC 41:16b–19a (vol. 327–330). For my further comments, see also T’oegye’s fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8, n. 117). 75. Consult TC 16:8a–17:6b (vol. 1, 402–430) for the Four-Seven letters; TC 7:4b–35a (vol. 1, 195–211) for T’oegye’s Sŏnghak sipto; see esp. the Simhak to (Diagrammatic treatise on mind cultivation), TC 7:29a (vol. 1, 208), and the Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic treatise on the saying that “the mind commends human nature and feelings”), TC 7:23a (vol. 1, 205). For these diagrammatic essays in English, see also Kalton 1988, 160–164 and 120–127, or Chung 1995b, 62–64, 128–132, and 168–172. 76. Chung 2004, 2010a, and 2011c present several moral and “religious” aspects of T’oegye’s simhak and quiet-sitting contemplation in relation to NeoConfucian metaphysics, ethics, and spiritual practice. See also Kalton 1988 for his discussion of T’oegye’s simhak. 77. For more, see T’oegye’s letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13), n. 209, and Chasŏngnok 16, n. 320. See also Chasŏngnok 13, n. 205, regarding the Zhu Xi school’s doctrine of “heaven’s principle” and “human cravings” in terms of the moral mind and the human mind. This is an important part of T’oegye’s thought, which I have discussed elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 2004). 78. An excellent study of Zhen Duxiu is de Bary 1981. 79. TC 7:29a (vol. 1, 208); see also Kalton 1988, 160–164. This is also mentioned in his letter to Yi Pyŏngsuk in TC 37:28b (vol. 2, 259). 80. I have discussed this topic elsewhere from several related perspectives (Chung 2009, 2010a, 2010b). 81. For my brief introduction to Yulgok’s life and thought, see Chasŏngnok 14, n. 257. 82.  For the Buddhist and Daoist influence on Song Neo-Confucianism as well as the Song thinkers’ criticisms of Buddhism or Daoism, see, e.g., Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 1989, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 1993, 2000; Tu 1985a; Taylor 1991. See also Chan 1963b and Ching 1976 for the Buddhist influence on Wang Yangming and his Ming Neo-Confucian thought. 83.  I have briefly discussed this topic elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 2009). In some of his other essays and letters, T’oegye criticized the Buddha’s teaching of karma and samsara; e.g., see his fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8, n. 119). 84. See also the middle of Chasŏngnok 7 and n. 97, where he criticizes this Daoist view by articulating the Neo-Confucian doctrine of reverence. Further, consult Watson 1964, 74, regarding his translation of Zhuangzi’s idea of zuowang as “forgets.” 85. Liezi was a Daoist thinker in classical China prior to Zhuangzi’s time. His name and metaphoric stories about his spiritual practice are often mentioned in the Zhuangzi, chaps. 1, 7, 18, 19; see Watson 1964, 26, 92–94, 116–119. For translations and other readings of the Zhuangzi and Liezi, see Chan 1963b, Graham 1990, Watson 1964, or Wong 2001. 86. Although T’oegye did not specify the source of this Neo-Confucian cri-



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tique, we find it in Er-Cheng quanshu (Complete works of two Cheng masters) 3:6b, which reads: “Those who are unable to experience the Way cannot think. Therefore, their practice of ‘forgetting in sitting’ (zuowang) will immediately be sitting with (the mind) running away.” 87. For T’oegye’s critique of Buddhism and Daoism, see nn. 83–84 above. 88. For T’oegye’s Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn, see TC 41:23b–29b (vol. 2, 332–335). 89. TC 41:26b (vol. 2, 333). 90. TC 41:29b–31b (vol. 2, 335–336). 91. TC 41:30b (vol. 2, 335). 92. For current literature on the Cheng-Zhu philosophy of the investigation of principles, see, e.g., Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000; Tu 1985a. For T’oegye’s interpretation, see the following letters to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12); Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 9 and 10, nn. 122 and 127, respectively); Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13, n. 233); Yi Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14, n. 282); and Hwang Chunggŏ (Chasŏngnok 15, n. 300). T’oegye also discussed the same topic in his other major works, such as the famous “Four-Seven letters” (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams on sage learning; TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211); for modern studies of these two works, see Kalton 1988; Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a; and Yun 1991. 93. For my further comments on Li Tong’s biography and his well-known work Yanping dawen (Li Yanping’s letters answering questions), see T’oegye’s second letter to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 2, nn. 25–26) and his third to Chŏng Chajung letter to (Chasŏngnok 6, n. 82). 94. Note that Confucian temples in Korea as well as in China honored both Yanzi and Zengzi (i.e., their ancestral name tablets) as wise men along with Confucius, Mencius, and others; the Korean tradition also includes T’oegye, Yulgok, and other leading Korean Confucians in the annual practice of ancestral rites. 95. Confucius’ teaching reads as follows: “To practice human-heartedness (ren) depends on oneself. Does it depend on others? Yan Yuan said, ‘May I ask for specific instructions?’ Confucius said, ‘Do not look when it is against propriety; do not listen when it is against propriety; do not speak when it is against propriety; and do not move when it is against propriety’ ” (Analects 12:1; see also Chan 1963b, 38; or Lau 1979, 112). 96. According to Analects 8:4, “The cultivated person values three things most in the Way, as follows: When moving the body, get rid of violence and arrogance; when rectifying the facial expression, trustworthiness should be revealed; and when speaking properly, avoid vulgarity and unreasonableness” (see also Lau 1979, 90). Zengzi is said to be the author of the Xiao jing (Classic of filial piety) as well. 97. Its full text reads as follows: “The Master said, ‘Shen [Zengzi’s given name], there is one thread binding my way [teaching] together.’ Zengzi said, ‘Yes.’ After the Master had left, the disciples asked [Zengzi], ‘What did he mean?’ Zengzi replied, ‘The way of our Master is none other than loyalty (zhong) and reciprocity (shu)’ ” (Analects 4:15; see also Lau 1979, 74, or Chan 1963b, 27).

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98. The locus classicus of this frequently quoted teaching (“be orderly and dignified” and “be solemn and austere”) in the Neo-Confucian literature is the Book of Rites, “Meaning of Sacrifices”; see Legge’s translation (1970, 2:216). 99. T’oegye is quoting Yishu 15:6b; see also Chan 1963b, 555. This key statement also appears in Jinsi lu 4:45 (see Chan 1967, 142). 100.  For this topic, see Chung 1995b or T’oegye’s Four-Seven letter to Kobong (Chasŏngnok 18). 101. Mencius 2A:2; for my comments on its locus classicus, see also T’oegye’s first letter to Nam Sibo (Chasŏngnok 1, n. 11). 102. Mencius 2A:2 (Chan 1963b, 63; see also Lau 1970, 78). For my further comments on this issue, see Chasŏngnok 10 and 11, nn. 128, 143–144, respectively; Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 234, 256; Chasŏngnok 14, n, 265; and Chasŏngnok 17, n. 343. 103. I discuss this topic in Chung 2011c. 104. This poems reads as follows:

Being foolish yet comfortable after retiring (t’oe) my body, Also worried about my last years because my study is lagging behind. After deciding my shelter at a place over this stream (gye), I practice self-reflection every day like this flowing water. (cited in T’oegye sŏnsaeng munjip 1:47)

105. T’oegye is likely quoting Mencius 6A:8 (translation is from Lau 1970, 165; cf. Chan 1963b, 63). 106. For example, Cheng’s and Zhu’s discussion of “holding onto it and preserving it” appears in the Jinsi lu 4:6 (Chan 1967, 143). For more on this topic, see Chung 1995b (chap. 1) and 2009; Kalton 1988; Chan 1967 (esp. the introduction and chap. 4) and 1963a (chap. 3); Gardner 1990. 107. T’oegye is quoting Yishu 15:1a (see also Chan 1963b, 552). 108. T’oegye is quoting these two sentences likely from ZZQS 2:8b and 2:22b (see also Chan 1963b, 606–607). 109. For this classical doctrine as well as its Neo-Confucian interpretation, see T’oegye’s letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13, n. 205). 110. Elsewhere I discuss this topic in terms of ethics, spirituality, interreligious dialogue, and Confucian ecological thinking (Chung 2004, 2010a, 2010b, 2011c). 111. See the Book of Rites, “Summary of Ceremonies,” SBBY 1:1a. 112.  For my annotated commentary on T’oegye’s philosophy and spirituality of reverence, see his letters to: Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7 and 9, nn. 100 and 124, respectively); Kwŏn Homun (Chasŏngnok 12, n. 183); Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13, n. 186); and Yi Yulgok (Chasŏngnok 14, n. 260). 113. This saying is attributed to the Cheng brothers; see Yishu 18:5b and 18:6b (as well as 15:9a and 15:11a). It is similarly quoted in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, secs. 9, 14–16, 18, 25, 36, 38, 44, 47–49, where the Cheng brothers emphasize that “self-cultivation requires reverence”; see also ZZWJ 4:29a (Chan 1963b, 601). For



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Zhu’s discussion of reverence also appears in ZZYL 44:28b, 62:31b–32a, 94:20a, 96:1a–4a. 114. T’oegye is likely quoting Mencius 2A:2 here. The full passage highlights Mencius’ teaching of rightness and mind cultivation. 115. See the Simhak to (Diagrammatic treatise on mind cultivation) and Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl in the Sŏnghak sipto, TC 7:29a (vol. 1, 208) and 7:23a (vol. 1, 205), respectively; consult Kalton 1988, 160–164 and 120–127, respectively; Chung 2004 or 1995b, 62–64, 128–132, 168–172. See TC 16:8a–17:6b (vol. 1, 402–430) for T’oegye’s Four-Seven letters. Regarding T’oegye’s simhak, see also Chasŏngnok 11, n. 147 and Chasŏngnok 13, n. 215. 116. ZZQS 2:22a–b (see also Chan 1963b, 607); according to Chan, these two sentences quoted by Zhu Xi originate in Yishu 15:5a and 18:3a, respectively. 117. Jinsi lu 4:48 (see also Chan 1967, 144). Furthermore, as Zhu Xi said, “Make real effort. Then what master Cheng called ‘rectifying the internal life’ and ‘concentrating on one thing’ will naturally need no manipulation, the body and mind will be reverent (kyŏng/jing), and the internal and external will be united” (ZZQS 2:22a–b). 118. T’oegye is quoting the Cheng masters in Yishu 15:1a (see also Chan 1963b, 552). 119. See Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208) and Chŏnmyŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic explanation of the Mandate of Heaven), TC, vol. 3, 144, respectively. 120. Reply letter, Kyojil munmok, TC 40:9b (vol. 2, 307). 121. Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208). In his Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl, T’oegye ­talked about heaven’s principle in regard to “heaven’s mandate” (ch’ŏnmyŏng/ tianming). He articulated a moral and spiritual unity with heaven and human nature, which represents the classical doctrine on “the oneness of heaven and humans” (ch’ŏnin habil/tianren heyi). 122. See Ŏnhaengnok 3:22b (in TC, vol. 4, 209). 123. Furthermore, the ecological implication of T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality closely pertains to his love of nature and scholarly life. Some of his nature poems express an experience of self-reflection on the unifying principle of human and all other sentient beings, and another group of poems reveals his practice of reverence and contemplative mind cultivation in relation to natural creativity and aesthetic appreciation. This seems to resonate well with our contemporary discussion of ecology, Confucianism, and Western religious thought. For more on this comparative topic involving T’oegye, see Chung 2011a, 2011c. 124. For my further comparative perspectives on T’oegye’s understanding of human nature and emotions, see Chung 2004 (esp. sec. 3, “Comparative Reflections”); Chung 1998b (sec. 4, “Confucian and Comparative Reflections”) is also useful for a similar discussion covering Yi Yulgok’s Neo-Confucian thought. 125. As I have discussed elsewhere (esp. Chung 2011b), the notion of “transcendence” may vary according to language, worldview, religion, etc. Its modern comparative meaning does not contradict T’oegye’s belief in the ontological and moral unity between heaven and human beings (ch’ŏnin habil). For example, ac-

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cording to John Hick, a comparative philosopher of religion, religion or spirituality (or whatever we might call it) fundamentally “centers upon an awareness of and response to a reality that transcends ourselves and our world, whether the ‘direction’ of transcendence be beyond or within or both” (1989, 3). The flexible meaning of “transcendence” has been debated from various philosophical and religious angles. The current literature on this topic regarding Chinese Confucianism includes Neville 2000; Ching 1977, 1989, 1993, 2000; Tu 1985a, 1989; Taylor 1991; Berthrong 1994. For the Korean counterpart, see Kalton 1988; Ro 1989; Chung 2004, 2010a. 126.  In this regard, we may also identify T’oegye’s thought as a type of “ethical humanism” or “lay spirituality,” with emphasis on moral and spiritual practice. The meaning of “lay spirituality” from a broader standpoint is mentioned in Ching 1986b, 1993, and 2000. I am also indebted to Herbert Fingarette’s interpretation of Confucianism as an “ethical humanism” (1972) and Julia Ching’s view of the tradition as an “ethical humanism as religion” (1989, 1993). For my further discussion of this comparative topic including T’oegye’s thought, see Chung 2004 and 2011b. 127. In his interesting study of modern Confucianism, Boston Confucianism, Robert Neville, a comparative philosopher-theologian, rightly points out that “Confucian spirituality is well-placed to develop . . . new humane orientations . . . This is [about] ‘abiding in the highest good’ ” (2000, 82). 128. I am borrowing the phrase “spiritual humanism” from Tu 2013. 129.  In this regard, T’oegye and Western (religious) thought can be discussed further, especially with respect to the moral philosophy and spirituality of human nature, emotions, and self-realization. However, such a task is beyond the scope and focus of this book. A fully annotated and interpreted translation of the Chasŏngnok is our central goal here, but more comparative study would certainly be welcome.

Translation: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Ref lection) 1. The locus classicus of this saying is Analects 4:22 (see also Lau 1979, 75). Note that this quotation is also associated with Confucius’ famous teaching that “the self-cultivated person (kunja/junzi) desires to be slow in speech but quick in action” (Analects 4:24; see also Lau 1975, 75, or Chan 1963b, 28). 2. Information interpolated by me here and throughout the translation is set off by square brackets. 3. Sibo is the courtesy name of Nam Ŏn’gyŏng (1528–1594). This, T’oegye’s first letter to this disciple, was written in 1556, when the former was fifty-six years old (according to the Korean system). Nam Sibo was formerly a student of Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk (1489–1546), whose literary name was Hwadam; Nam later attended T’oegye’s academy. Hwadam was a leading Korean thinker particularly known for developing a philosophy of ki (material force; vital energy) in the mid-sixteenth



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century. For my brief discussion of Hwadam, see Chung 1995b, 18–19. Nam also held several high-ranking positions from the mid-1560s to the late 1580s, but he spent his later years in study and seclusion after he was removed from these official positions due to the internal accusation that he was studying the prohibited philosophy of the Ming Neo-Confucian Wang Yangming (1472–1529). For Wang’s life and thought, see Chan 1963a, 1963b; Ching 1976. 4.  In exchanging letters with his disciples (including those in the Chasŏngnok) and his junior colleagues (including Yi Yulgok and Ki Kobong), Master T’oegye often used a self-effacing and polite writing style in referring to himself by his given name, Hwang, and in expressing his scholarly advice and opinions, an indication of his modest character yet inspiring mentorship. For more on this and related points, see Chasŏngnok 9 and 10, nn. 121 and 133–134, respectively; Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 218 and 235; Chasŏngnok 14, nn. 258 and 267; and Chasŏngnok 17, n. 339. 5. Referring to King Myŏngjong (r. 1545–1567), the thirteenth ruler of the Chosŏn (Yi) dynasty (1393–1910). 6. Referring to the king’s second call for T’oegye in 1556 to accept a high official position in the prestigious Hongmun’gwan (Royal Office of the Special Counselors) that dealt with the classics, historical studies, royal writings, government documents, and Confucian principles for the king. The Hongmun’gwan was one of the powerful “three offices” (samsa) of the Chosŏn dynasty. Neo-Confucian scholars held key positions there as a way of maintaining their central political power as well as their regional academic connections while promoting the Confucian principles of good government. The other two units were the Office of Inspector General, whose main role was to impeach government officials for corruption, and the Office of Censors, which was mandated to check the improper actions of the king and state council. Overall, these three central units were designed to check the power of the central court, which meant that Neo-Confucian officials could also challenge established aristocrats—who held various positions in the state council and six ministries that carried out daily state affairs—by criticizing or impeaching those guilty of corruption or wrongdoing. 7. Illness was only one of the reasons for T’oegye to resign from not only this official appointment but also many other positions during his fifties and sixties, including, for example, the principalship of the Sŏnggyun’gwan royal academy in late 1558. As indicated in other letters to his disciples (e.g., Chŏng Chajung, Kim Tonsŏ, and Hwang Chunggŏ) and his famous junior colleagues (e.g., Ki Kobong and Yi Yulgok)—which are included in the Chasŏngnok—another key reason for his frequent demurrals and resignations from official positions was his retirement to his beautiful hometown in southern Yŏngnam province, where he sought to dedicate himself to study and self-cultivation. Another important reason—which T’oegye could not state publicly for political reasons and fear of persecution—was his extreme concern with the persistent power struggles and ubiquitous corruption within the central court, the sort of attitude that led to the so-called literati purges of the Chosŏn dynasty. His attitude toward the misdeeds of those at court was conveyed to his junior colleagues Ki Kobong and No Ijae in terms of “a com-

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mon defect,” “being deceitful,” “arrogance,” “bitter grief,” and “justified anger”; for details, see Chasŏngnok, 20, 21, and 22, nn. 408, 410, and 420, respectively. Regarding T’oegye’s public life and his criticism of political corruption, see the section on “T’oegye’s Life” in my introduction to this book or Chung 1995b, 22–26, 199–204. 8. This is a special reference to the Hongmun’gwan and to the senior, highranking position T’oegye had declined. See n. 6 above regarding T’oegye and the Hongmun’gwan. 9. In 1556 T’oegye was appointed to a top third-level position with a ch’ŏmji title in one of the central government departments. Although the ch’ŏmji title was conferred tentatively while the appointee waited for the official announcement of his job assignment, T’oegye wanted to resign from it anyway, a request that was not officially approved. 10. Ŭngill was the courtesy name of Hong Inu (1515–1554), who died two years before T’oegye wrote this letter to Nam Sibo. Ŭnggil was a great disciple of Sŏ Hwadam and passed the civil service examination at age twenty-three for a chinsa (presented scholar) license in Seoul. He shortly gave up his public career, however, to pursue a scholarly life and moved south to Andong to attend T’oegye’s academy. 11. This analogical saying, “pulls up a sprout forcefully,” partially originates in Mencius 2A:2, although T’oegye does not document it so: “Always be doing without expectation. Let the mind not forget its objective, but let there be no artificial effort to help it to grow (literally, ‘pull up a sprout in order to help it’)” (Chan 1963b, 63; T’oegye’s words are italicized). D. C. Lau’s translation is somewhat different: “You must work at it (rightness) and never let it out of your mind. At the same time, while you never let it out of your mind, you must not forcibly help it grow either” (Lau 1970, 78; italics indicate T’oegye’s quote). T’oegye quoted the same line in the middle of his letter to Kim Tonsŏ (Chasŏngnok 13); see also n. 202 below. By using this analogy, Mencius basically meant that mind cultivation is a dedicated and consistent undertaking, not one of forced effort to speed up the process for quick success. In other words, according to Zhu Xi’s and T’oegye’s interpretations, a common defect among followers of the Confucian way is a shortcut ­approach to learning. T’oegye therefore advised Nam against such an approach because it manipulates learning without self-cultivation. For my further comments on this subject, see Chasŏngnok 10, nn. 128 and 144; Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 234 and 256; Chasŏngnok 14, n. 265; and Chasŏngnok 17, n. 343. T’oegye’s consistent warnings in his letters against shortcutting the process reveal his moral character as well as his pedagogical philosophy. 12. By mentioning “investigation of principles,” T’oegye is referring to one of the major doctrines of the Cheng-Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism. Its locus classicus is the opening section in the Great Learning, and Zhu Xi discussed this well-known doctrine extensively. For the current literature on the Chinese interpretation of this topic, see, among others, Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000; Tu 1985a. The same topic was also discussed fre-



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quently by traditional Korean scholars. In the Chasŏngnok, for example, T’oegye discusses it in the third paragraphs of his sixth and seventh letters to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 9 and 10, esp. nn. 122 and 127, respectively). For my related comments, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 233; Chasŏngnok 14, n. 282; and Chasŏngnok 15, n. 300. This doctrine is also mentioned in T’oegye’s other major writings: e.g., the famous Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430), Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams on sagely learning; TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211), and Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic explanation of heaven’s mandate; TC 41:11a; vol. 2, 325). For modern translations and interpretations of these works, see Kalton 1988; Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a; Yun 1991. 13.  T’oegye is here again criticizing the common flaw among certain scholars, much as he has in the preceding paragraph, which is manipulating self-cultivation or pursuing a shortcut to learning. See also n. 11 above. 14. Regarding the “quick result” issue, see also nn. 11 and 13 above. 15. “Heaven’s principle” (ch’ŏlli/tianli) is a major idea in the Cheng-Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism. T’oegye was a leading Korean thinker who often emphasized it in the context of moral and spiritual self-cultivation. He frequently discussed his belief in the transcendent and moral power of heaven’s principle in his major letters and essays. For detailed comments, see Chasŏngnok 16, n. 320; Chasŏngnok 13, n. 209; and Chasŏngnok 18, n. 383. In short, the moral and religious core of T’oegye’s thought centers around his doctrine of “preserving heaven’s principle and overcoming selfish human desires,” together with reverence, quiet sitting, and spiritual cultivation. I have discussed this key topic in his philosophy in, e.g., Chung 2004, 2010a, and 2011c. 16. In 1558 T’oegye prepared a collection of Zhu Xi’s letters, which he entitled Chujasŏ chŏryo (Essential letters of Master Zhu). The Chujasŏ chŏryo can be found in TC, vol. 2, 348–372, and consists of about one-third of Zhu’s letters as selected by T’oegye. For details, see the section on “T’oegye’s Scholarship” in my introduction. 17. Sahyŏng (d. 1566) was the courtesy name of Han Yunmyŏng, a disciple of T’oegye. 18. This part of the sentence, “covering his light in darkness,” means something like refraining from telling other people about one’s advanced level of knowledge and talents. 19. T’oegye has likely picked up this famous phrase, “penetrating above,” from the Analects. As was common practice among scholars in traditional East Asia, T’oegye did not feel the need to fully document the source of quoted or paraphrased material. The source of the phrase “to penetrate above” is Analects, as follows: “The authentic person (junzi) penetrates above, whereas the inferior person penetrates below” (14:24); “Do not complain against heaven; do not blame others. I learn from below and penetrate above. What knows me is heaven, indeed!” (14:37). Chan’s translation reads as follows: “The superior man understands the higher things [moral principles]; the inferior man understands the lower things [profit]”; “I do not complain against Heaven. I do not blame men. I study things

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on the lower level but my understanding penetrates the higher level” (Chan 1963b, 42–43). Implicit in these sayings by Confucius is T’oegye’s view that the sagely teaching of self-cultivation is the Confucian way, not the Buddhist attainment of self-awakening, because self-cultivation begins with the practical study of daily things and gradually extends and moves upward to its highest level, namely, the perfection of the self, family, society, and beyond. This teaching also appears in the beginning section of the Great Learning. 20. In mentioning the idea of enlightenment in this poem, T’oegye means to criticize (Zen) Buddhism, especially its teaching of self-awakening, because in his view it ignores the steady and progressive way of learning and self-cultivation. In his other major letters and essays, T’oegye opposes basic Buddhist ideas while defending Neo-Confucian orthodoxy. Regarding the Buddha’s teaching of karma and samsara, see Chasŏngnok 8, n. 119. T’oegye harshly criticized the Buddhist doctrines of extinction and emptiness; in this regard, see Chasŏngnok 14, nn. 261 and 272, and Chasŏngnok 15, n. 312. I also briefly discuss T’oegye’s critique of Buddhism in Chung 1995b and 2004. 21. T’oegye also criticized the Daoist doctrine of wuwei (K. muwi; non-action) along with Buddhism. For my further comments on his critique, including his condemnation of Laozi’s philosophy of wuwei and quietism and Zhuangzi’s teaching of “forgetting the self,” see Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 187, 207, and 210. 22. For Nam’s brief biography, see n. 3 above. 23. T’oegye is here referring to the Song Neo-Confucian philosophy of i/li, or principle. Regarding Cheng-Zhu teachings on the study of principles, see n. 12 above. T’oegye often articulated principle and material force (ki/qi), a wellresearched topic that need not be rehearsed here. In short, li is the (metaphysical) “ground of being” present in each thing in its fullness, whereas qi refers to the “material force” that actually brings each phenomenon into concrete existence. For details, see the beginning paragraph of the section on “Philosophy of Principle” in my introduction. For Zhu Xi’s philosophy, see, for example, Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000. T’oegye developed a system of ethics and spirituality by emphasizing the transcendent, virtuous reality of li over the physical and material world of qi. For more on this topic, see Chung 1995b, 2004; Tu 1982, 1985b; Yun 1991. 24.  This statement by T’oegye is referring to what Zigong—one of Confucius’ beloved disciples as recorded in the Analects—had to say in Analects 5:2 about the subtle difficulty of understanding his master’s teaching of human nature in relation to “the way of heaven” as follows: “Tzu-kung (Zigong in Pinyin) said: ‘We can hear our Master’s views on culture and its manifestation, but we cannot hear his views on human nature and the Way of Heaven [because these subjects are beyond the comprehension of most people]’ ” (Chan 1963b, 28). Compare Lau’s translation: “Tzu-kung (Zigong) said, ‘One can get to hear about the Master’s accomplishments, but one cannot get to hear his views on human nature and the Way of Heaven’ ” (Lau 1979:78). 25. Yanping was the literary name of Li Tong (1093–1163), a Song Chinese



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Neo-Confucian and Zhu Xi’s teacher. T’oegye occasionally mentioned Li in his other letters and essays. For more comments, see Chasŏngnok, 6 and 11, nn. 82 and 159, respectively, and Chasŏngnok 13, n. 208. I discuss Li’s influence on T’oegye’s quiet sitting and mind cultivation in Chung 1995b; for more on this topic, see Chung 2004, 2010a. 26. This saying by T’oegye probably originated in Li Tong’s Yanping dawen (Li Yanping’s letters answering questions), which was compiled by his disciple Zhu Xi on the basis of what the latter heard and learned from his teacher. 27. This was T’oegye’s letter to his three disciples Kim Paegyŏng (courtesy name) (given name Puin; 1512–1584), his younger brother Kim Kahaeng (courtesy name) (given name Pusin; d.u.), and Kim Tonsŏ (courtesy name) (given name Puryun; 1531–1598). Tonsŏ was also known by his literary name, Sŏlwŏldang; for his biography, see n. 185 to T’oegye’s letter to Kim Tonsŏ, the thirteenth and longest (twenty original folios) in the Chasŏngnok. This letter to three Kim disciples, third in the Chasŏngnok, was a response to their questions about the proper etiquette in relation to funeral and burial rites for parents. The letter basically articulates the ritual and religious dimension of T’oegye’s interpretation of the topic. 28. The locus classicus of this saying is likely Confucius’ answer to his disciple Zengzi’s question, as it is mentioned in the Book of Rites, “Questions by Zengzi”; in fact, the same statement was briefly mentioned by T’oegye himself in the next paragraph in this letter. For an English translation of the Book of Rites, see Legge 1970, vol. 1 29. Regarding the Book of Rites, see n. 28 above. 30.  Qiongshan (1418–1495) was a Ming Chinese scholar whose full name was Qiu Jun; his courtesy name was Zhongshen and his literary name was Shenan. Also addressed respectfully as Master Qiongshan, he was a leading scholar of the Zhu Xi school who compiled several works, including the Jiali yijiu (Meaning and etiquette of family rites) and Daxue yienyi bo (Extended meaning of the Great Learning supplemented). T’oegye mentions him in the third-to-last paragraph of his seventh letter to his disciple Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 10). For Qiu Jun’s brief biography, see Ming shi (History of the Ming dynasty), secs. 133, 181; Wing-tsit Chan briefly covers Qiu Jun’s contribution to Zhu Xi Neo-Confucianism in his translation of the Jinsi lu (Reflections on Things at Hand) (1967, 344). 31. Regarding the original source of this quotation, see n. 28 above. 32. T’oegye here is referring to the so-called five types of funeral and mourning clothes in the following order of family-tree relationships and mourning durations: 1) Ch’amch’oe, 2) Chach’oe, 3) Taegong, 4) Sogong, and 5) Sima. The first, Ch’amch’oe, made of thick and rough hemp cloth, was the most important costume and was to be worn for three years by a son for his father’s death, by a fatherless grandson for his dead grandfather, and by a widow for her husband. The second highest, Chach’oe, made of the same hemp cloth, was required for different durations according to several factors as follows: 1) three years for a son for his mother’s death or for a married woman for her mother-in-law’s death or for a mother mourning the death of her first son; 2) one year for a grandson for his

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grandfather’s or grandmother’s death while his father is alive; 3) five months for a great-grandson for his great-grandfather; and 4) three months for a fourth-generation son for his great-great-grandfather’s death. The least important costume, Sima, was identical to the fourth, Sogong, except that people used Sima for the death of either parent-in-law, any cousin by a maternal aunt, or one’s great-grandfather’s brother or his wife. For more details on this topic, see Sŏnggyun’gwan’s Uri-ŭi saenghwal yejŏl (Our [Confucian] rites and customs of living [in Korea]; 1997, reprint 2005), pt. 4 (“Family Rites”), chap. 4 (“Funeral and Ancestral Rites”), section on “The Types of Funeral Clothes and Durations,” 230–232. This comprehensive handbook is based on the Chinese and Korean Confucian tradition of funeral, mourning, and ancestral rites in accordance with Confucian classics and Neo-Confucian commentaries and interpretations. 33. See n. 32 above for the Ch’amch’oe, Chach’oe, and Sima funeral-andmourning clothing. I should also note that what T’oegye is trying to articulate here is somewhat unclear. 34. Regarding this Ming scholar, Qiu Qiongshan, see n. 30 above. 35.  The implication is that one wears the same costume when simultaneously moving the mother’s coffin and observing the father’s funeral rite. 36. Zeng (given name Zudao; d.u.) was a follower of the Zhu Xi school in Song China. 37. In this letter, T’oegye wrote footnotes directly on the page in a smaller hand. This and other of his notes appear in this translation as footnotes at the bottom of the page. 38. “Questions by Zengzi” section. 39. Meaning, in other words, a person already dead—the mother. 40. The Uje tradition includes three consecutive rites as follows: 1) the ch’ou evening rite on the day of death, 2) the cheu second rite on the day of the funeral, and 3) the samu rite at the grave site of a dead person three days after his funeral rite. These rites were then followed by the so-called puje mourning rite, which is observed in the deceased ancestral shrine at home (sadang), where the ancestral tablets are honored inside. 41. The “other person” refers to the father who has just passed away. 42. For example, mukch’oe clothing was worn by a son after completing his mother’s funeral rite if his father was still living. 43. T’oegye is referring here to a diagram in the Jiali, one of Zhu Xi’s key texts, especially regarding Confucian family rituals such as funeral and ancestral rites, weddings, and youth initiations. A recent study of Zhu’s text is Ebrey 1991a. See also Ebrey 1991b for the Chinese tradition of family rites (with more focus on historical and social aspects); Palmer 1985 and Chung 1994 and 2006 for the Korean tradition; and Smith 1959 for the Japanese tradition. Furthermore, T’oegye was familiar with Zhang Zai’s teaching of filial piety and funeral ritual practice, as this was mentioned in the classics as well. The Book of Rites (Liji), for example, describes the ritual care of one’s dead parents as a “supreme” moral extension of filial piety. According to the Classic of Filial Piety (Xiaojing), a filial son honors his dead parents



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as if they were alive because filial reverence is mandated by the “heavenly way”; see Rosemont and Ames 2009 for a good translation of the Xiaojing. This kind of teaching was emphasized by Confucius and Neo-Confucian thinkers as well. In his Jiali, Zhu Xi discussed funeral and ancestral rites as a profound source of selfcultivation; in the Jinsi lu, as well, he said that the heavenly principle fosters in the family a “natural tendency” toward these rites (Chan 1967, 232). T’oegye shared similar opinions; for example, he writes in his letters to Chŏng Chajung and other disciples that this ritual practice requires the moral-spiritual virtue of filial gratitude and reverence. T’oegye’s interpretation was a valuable contribution to the Korean tradition. For further discussion of this topic, see Chasŏngnok 10, n. 129. 44. Mojae is the literary name of Kim An’guk (1478–1543). He was a wellknown scholar-official of the Chosŏn dynasty. Among his colleagues was the young statesman and famous early sixteenth-century reformer Cho Kwangjo (literary name Chŏngam; 1482–1519). Both men led the new movement of NeoConfucian scholar-officials. 45. Here T’oegye is talking about a diagram based on Zhu Xi’s Elementary Learning (Xiaoxue), one of his key works especially for teaching young students about the beginning of Confucian learning and self-cultivation. It basically emphasizes the heavenly way by articulating four cardinal human virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom) as well as five human relationships; in addition, Zhu Xi also related the Elementary Learning to the central message of the Great Learning, one of the Four Books. T’oegye drew a special philosophical diagram that explains this text and made it the third chapter—together with the “Diagram of the Great Learning” as the fourth chapter—of his famous Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning (Sŏnghak sipto) (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211). His “Diagram of the Elementary Learning” begins with Zhu’s “Introduction to the Elementary Learning,” includes his philosophical diagram that summarizes the teaching of this text in the middle, and then presents several paragraphs of comments from Zhu’s “Questions and Answers on the Great Learning” (Daxue huowen) as well as his concluding comments at the end. For a modern translation and study of T’oegye’s Sŏnghak sipto, see Kalton 1988; see also Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a. 46. In the Korean tradition, the ancestral cabinet is made of three flat wood panels covering its left, right, and back sides, and leaves the front and top open, the entire cabinet measuring about 30 cm high, 30 cm wide, and 14 cm deep. In a typical ancestral shrine at home, the cabinet was used to surround and protect an ancestral tablet (which was first placed on a rectangular stand) honoring both a male ancestor (e.g., father) and his wife (e.g., mother), side by side. A detailed and systematic Korean handbook on this and related topics is Sŏnggyun’gwan’s Uri-ŭi saenghwal yejŏl (1997) 2005, 311–312. Regarding all family rites, procedures, and instructions, this handbook gives a comprehensive discussion according to Confucian classics and Korean Neo-Confucian commentaries. 47. The statement T’oegye quotes here was originally made by his students in their letter to him. It basically means that from the viewpoint of a tablet itself, a male ancestor is honored (written) on the right side of the wooden ancestral

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tablet, namely, the left side of the tablet from the point of view of the ritual participants facing the tablet. His wife is honored on the left side of the tablet, that is, on the ritual participants’ right side. This is correct insofar as it is also confirmed by Sŏnggyun’gwan (1997) 2005, 314–316. 48. Note that the Korean wip’an ancestral tablet is made of wood planks. For more details, see Sŏnggyun’gwan (1997), 2005, 311–312. 49. The Yili, written during the Zhou dynasty, is a major Chinese classic on the Confucian tradition of family and court rituals and moral teachings. For more information on this text, consult Ebrey 1991a and 1991b. 50. The movement toward the chojo is for a farewell ritual honoring ancestors and takes place on the third funeral day; a chung is an x-shaped object that is temporarily used before the deceased’s tablet is made. 51.  Wengong was one of Zhu Xi’s honorific titles, as indicated by T’oegye here. 52. See n. 30 above for my brief description of the Chinese scholar Qiu Jun (Qiongshan), including his Jiali yijiu. 53. T’oegye refers here to the tradition of using the honbaek (Ch. hunbo; literally, “spirit silk”), a special cloth that is placed behind a food offering table during the funeral ritual. In the Korean family tradition, the honbaek cloth is used as a temporary spiritual place where the dead person’s soul is invited to reside during his funeral and mourning rite. This “spirit cloth” is normally made of a silk fabric (or ramie/hemp cloth), about 70 cm long and 24 cm wide, which is carefully folded nine times in a special vertical way. It is placed on top of the dead person’s upper garments and rests within a thick white-paper box that is put in front of the dead person’s portrait (or photo). Specific instructions for this practice are detailed in Sŏnggyun’gwan (1997) 2005, 264–266. 54. See n. 40 for the standard uje rite tradition. 55. See n. 28 for the locus classicus of this statement. 56. In this paragraph T’oegye is referring to the Chinese-Korean sexagenary cycle, also known as the “stems-and-branches” cycle, of sixty terms, which were used in recording days or years. As part of Chinese writing (e.g., the Shang dynasty’s oracle bones), these cycles were an important part of traditional Chinese calendrical systems that influenced Korea as well. In modern Korea and China, this method of numbering days and years still plays a traditional role in fortune-telling. 57. See n. 32 for a discussion of the Sima and Sogong costumes as well as the first three types of funeral and mourning clothing in the descending order of ritual and moral importance according to one’s family-tree relationships and mourning durations. 58. T’oegye sent this reply to Chŏng Chajung (given name Yuil; 1533–1576) in 1556 (the eleventh year of King Myŏngjong’s reign), when T’oegye was fifty-five years old. Chŏng, whose courtesy name was Chajung, was one of T’oegye’s longtime, leading disciples. He lived in Andong city, T’oegye’s hometown, and also had a successful public career in the Chosŏn government; for example, his final position was minister of the Department of Civil Affairs. 59. By the phrase “hearing the Way” in this sentence, T’oegye is probably



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referring to Analects 4:8, where Confucius said, “He has not lived in vain who dies the day he is told about the Way” (Lau 1979, 73). 60. In this statement T’oegye has in mind Confucius’ teaching in Analects 17:12: “A cowardly man who puts on a brave front is, when compared to small [inferior] men, like the burglar who breaks in or climbs over walls” (Lau 1979, 145; T’oegye’s quotation is italicized). In other words, T’oegye intended to criticize anyone who practiced rituals without moral reverence or spiritual dignity. This is certainly in line with Confucius’ saying against anyone who does not merit it getting a famous position or against recruiting someone as a public servant who has neither merit nor qualification. 61. During the Warring States period in ancient China, the states of Liang and Chu, which were adjacent to each other, were in conflict. T’oegye probably means that he and others should not adopt double standards in pursuing Confucian learning or attaining personal fame. 62. These are four of the essential moral virtues frequently mentioned in the Analects, other classics, and Neo-Confucian texts. Taken together, they are generally referred to as the Way (Dao) of Confucian moral life, which must be integrated with self-cultivation. This is basically what T’oegye means in the advice given to his disciple Chŏng Chajung in this paragraph. 63. The phrase “fully developing their nature and reaching,” which T’oegye is indirectly citing here, is a common one in Confucian classics and Neo-Confucian commentaries. It originally comes from the Book of Changes, “Remarks on Certain Trigrams,” sec. 1: “investigate principles and fully develop human nature to the utmost, until its mandate is fulfilled” (see also Chan 1963b, 485; Legge, [1964] 1969, 422). 64. T’oegye is here actually quoting Confucius’ famous saying in Analects 1:2. This is my translation; cf. Wing-tsit Chan’s translation (second sentence): “A superior man is devoted to the fundamentals (the root). When the root is firmly established, the moral law (Dao) will grow” (1963b, 20). See also Lau’s translation (1979, 59). 65. By the phrase “what people in the past said,” T’oegye is indirectly referring to Confucius’ teaching of learning and moral life as stated in Analects 1:6: “Young people should be filial [to parents] at home and respectful to their elders outside the home. Being earnest and trustworthy, they should love all people extensively and be close with people of human-heartedness (ren). When they have energy to spare from fulfilling such a [moral] life, they should then devote it to learning and cultivation (see also Lau 1979, 59–60; Chan 1963b, 20). 66. The likely attribution is to Bai Jui (772–846), a Tang Chinese thinker and poet. Zhu Xi probably used it in advising his students and colleagues about the complete way of learning and self-cultivation. T’oegye is probably using this poetic analogy as pedagogical advice to Chajung that he should not take any shortcut or partial approach to learning or personal cultivation. 67. The phrase “through writing” literally translates as “by using paper and brush ink.”

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68. This statement (which was included in Chajung’s letter to T’oegye) originally comes from Shao Yong’s (1011–1077) Huangji jingshi shu (Supreme principles governing the world), 8b:25a: “The mind is the Great Ultimate. The human mind should be as calm as still water. Being calm, it will be tranquil. Being tranquil, it will be enlightened” (Chan 1963b, 498). Shao Yong was a Song Neo-Confucian thinker who studied cosmology and numerology in line with the Book of Changes and Confucian ideas of principles and numbers. For more on his life and thought, see Chan 1963b, 481–494, or the Song shi (History of the Song dynasty), 427:18b–21b. 69. T’oegye probably did not like this statement quoted by Chajung, so he is trying here to give his own interpretation on the basis of Zhou Dunyi’s (1017–1073) Taijitu shuo (Diagrammatic explanation of the Great Ultimate), according to which “the sage takes centrality, correctness, human-heartedness, and righteousness as the standard and then establishes the human ultimate primarily through tranquility.” See Zhouzi quanshu (Complete works of Zhou Dunyi), chap. 2, 23 (see also Chan 1963b, 463). For Zhou’s life and thought, see Chan 1963b, chap. 28, and Adler (in de Bary and Bloom 1999, chap. 20). I also note that T’oegye often mentioned Zhou as a pioneering thinker in his interpretation of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy; for example, Zhou’s Taijitu shuo appears as the first diagrammatic explanation of T’oegye’s famous Ten Diagrams of Sage Learning (Sŏnghak sipto). See Kalton 1988 for a full English translation of the Sŏnghak sipto; see also Chung 1995b, 2009, and 2010a, for a discussion of T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality, including his Sŏnghak sipto and other major essays. 70. T’oegye is basically referring to the Song Neo-Confucian philosophy of principle and human nature. For Zhu’s philosophy, see Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; for T’oegye and other Korean thinkers on this topic, see Kalton 1988; Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a; Ro 1989 (about Yi Yulgok). 71. Beixi (K. Pukkye) was the litereary name of Chen Chun (1159–1223), who was often known by his courtesy name, Anqing. A leading disciple of Zhu Xi in Song China, he defended his master’s philosophy while also criticizing Lu Xiangshan’s (1139–1192) philosophy of the mind. For his works, see Beixi quanshu (Complete works of Chen Beixi). T’oegye and his disciples were familiar with Chen Beixi’s commentaries on Zhu’s philosophy; in particular, T’oegye knew Chen’s Sishu xingli ziyi (Neo-Confucian terms of the Four Books explained). For his critique of Chen’s character and self-cultivation, see Chasŏngnok 11, n. 163. See also Chan 1986b for a good full translation of Chen’s well-known text. 72. This sentence is from Zhou Dunyi’s Tongshu, chap. 7 (“Teachers”). A longer translation is as follows: Therefore the sage institutes education so as to enable people to transform their evil by themselves, to arrive at the Mean and to rest there. Therefore those who are the first to be enlightened should instruct those who are slower in attaining enlightenment, and the ignorant should seek help from those who understand. Thus the way of teachers is established. . . . (Chan 1963b, 468)



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73. Tongshu, chap. 28 (“Literary Expressions”). See also Chan 1963b, 476. 74. This statement was first made by Chŏng Chajung, who likely quoted it from Zhou Dunyi’s Tongshu, chap. 9 (“Thought”). Compare Chan’s translation: “Having no thought is the foundation, and thinking penetratively is its function. With subtle incipient activation becoming active on the one hand [literally, “there”], and with sincerity becoming active in response, on the other [literally, “here”]—having no thought and yet penetrating all—thus is one a sage” (1963b, 469; words in brackets are my interpolations). 75. The quote is of Chajung’s statement, which comes from Zhou’s Tongshu, chap. 15 (“Love and Reverence”). Chan’s translation is as follows: “Suppose I do not measure up to the goodness of others. (What shall I do?). If you do not measure up to it, learn to do so. What if others do evil? If they do evil, tell them that it is evil and, furthermore, exhort them” (1963b, 471). 76. This question also comes from the first sentence in Zhou’s Tongshu, chap. 15. It is a very brief question added by Zhou himself. See Chan’s translation: “Suppose I do not measure up to the goodness of others. (What shall I do?). . . . If one corrects his mistakes, he will be a superior man. . . . Therefore, the superior man possesses all virtues and is loved and revered by all” (1963b, 471). 77. In his retirement years, Zhou Dunyi adopted the special name Lianxi based on the Lianxi stream around his home near Mount Lu. After his death, he was honored as “Master of Lianxi” (K. Yŏmgye). T’oegye and other Korean NeoConfucians often used this title in their writings. 78. This is also because the writing system and grammar of Korean, unlike its Chinese counterpart, developed a system to append certain syllables such as grammatical particles (t’o) to a word to indicate the part of speech or to show the grammatical connection between different parts of a sentence. For more discussion of this topic, consult Rutt 1960 or Yi Sangha 2012. I would like to thank the second external reviewer of this book manuscript for kindly pointing me to this information. 79. Here, what T’oegye seems to be explaining is based on Zhou’s intended ideas about the Great Ultimate in his Tongshu (chap. 16) as follows: “Things cannot be tranquil while active or active while tranquil. Spirit, however, can be active without activity and tranquil without tranquility. Being active and tranquil without tranquility does not mean that spirit is neither active nor tranquil. Things cannot penetrate each other but spirit works wonders with all things” (Chan 1963b, 471–472). For T’oegye, things have shapes, so they can become partial or limited in relation to one another; in other words, things represent the physical realm (hyŏng i ha/xingehxia). On the other hand, by the sentence “That which transcends physical forms is beyond our comprehension,” he also means that the spiritual realm is metaphysical (hyŏng i sang/xingershang) and therefore “transcends physical forms,” although it does not exist independently of them. Moreover, as Zhu Xi commented, “Spirit neither leaves physical form nor is not limited by it.” Overall, this is a topic in itself discussed in Zhu Xi’s philosophy as well as T’oegye’s writings. See Chan 1963b, 1967, 1985. For T’oegye and other Korean Neo-Confucians on this topic, see Kalton 1988; Ro 1989; Chung 1995b, 2004.

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80. Yi Kyŏngso was a disciple of T’oegye who was respected for his utmost practice of filial piety. 81.  This statement originally comes from a treatise by Shao Yong (1011–1077), Huangji jingshi shu 8B:25a, which says, “The mind is the Great Ultimate. The human mind should be as calm as still water. . . .” (Chan 1963b, 498). For more on this, see the middle of T’oegye’s second letter to Chajung (Chasongnok 5). 82. Yanping was Zhu Xi’s teacher as well as a friend of Zhu’s father. His known work is Yanping dawen, which is mentioned by T’oegye here. For a brief discussion of Li’s life and thought and his influence on Zhu Xi, consult Chan 1963b, 588, or Gardner 1990, 4. 83. By “this” in this sentence, T’oegye probably means the “oneness of principle,” and the phrase “many manifestations” implies principle’s diverse manifestations in things and phenomena. This is basically about the Song Neo-Confucian doctrine of “one principle and many manifestations” (iil punsu/liyi fenshu): Principle is one and universal metaphysically, but its manifestations are many and diverse physically. Zhu Xi thoroughly developed this doctrine in relation to human nature, feelings and emotions, and learning and self-cultivation on the basis of Song thinkers including Zhou Dunyi, the Cheng brothers (Hao [Mingdao] and Yi [Yichuan]), and Li Tong. T’oegye elaborates on this part of Zhu Xi’s thought in a similar manner. For this topic regarding Zhu, see Chan 1986a, 1967 (“Introduction”), 1963b (chap. 34); de Bary 1981; Gardner 1990, 49–50, 90–97. For Zhu Xi and T’oegye on this topic, see Chung 1995b, 44, 65, 81; and Kalton 1988. 84. Here T’oegye is referring to Zhu Xi’s Daxue huowen. I have added quotation marks here to indicate that these three brief interpolations are from Zhu Xi; i.e., T’oegye basically paraphrased Zhu’s original statement by abbreviating it. I would also note that the Daxue huowen was popular and influential among Korean scholars, including T’oegye, because it presents Zhu’s and others’ comments on the Great Learning as well as giving certain answers to key questions regarding the Confucian way of learning and self-cultivation. This is why T’oegye frequently mentions this text in most of his major essays and letters (including those in the Chasŏngnok). 85. This ritual manual was probably written by Yi Ŏnjŏk (courtesy name Hoejae; 1491–1553), a senior contemporary of T’oegye (who was ten years younger than Hoejae). Hoejai’s authorship can be inferred from the appearance in this work’s title of the word isang, the title of a high-ranking government position once held by him. Hoejae used Zhu Xi’s famous Jiali and other Chinese ritual texts in explaining Confucian ritual and moral instructions regarding the family and ancestral rites. Hoejae was known among Korean Neo-Confucians, including T’oegye, for developing a “philosophy of principle” (ihak) for the first time in Korea just prior to T’oegye’s great years of perfecting such a philosophy. Hoejae is also known for dedicating himself to honoring and venerating his father (and mother) through ancestral rites. For a brief discussion of Hoejae’s life and thought, see Chung 1995b, 19–20. 86. Taeyong was Yi Sukryang’s (1519–1592) courtesy name. A close disciple



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of T’oegye, he was known for his superior literary skills. T’oegye refers here to the fact that Yi assisted his master with hand copying and printing Zhu Xi’s philosophical letters and essays into a single volume. 87. According to the usual custom, T’oegye, like other thinkers in traditional East Asia, did not give specific information for textual quotations. He is likely here paraphrasing Cheng Yi’s famous sayings in Yishu (Surviving works of the two Cheng masters) 15:1a: “If one concentrates on one thing and does not deviate from it and is reverent in order to rectify the self internally, he will have a strong moving effort” (Chan 1963b, 552); and Yishu 15:6b: “If one concentrates on one thing, there will be no need to speak of being on guard against depravity” (Chan 1963b, 555). The second statement here is also included in the Jinsi lu (compiled by Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian [1137–1181]), chap. 4 (“Preserving the Mind and Nourishing Human Nature”), sec. 45; see Chan 1967, 142. Another possible source of T’oegye’s statement is Jinsi lu, 4:48 as follows: “Reverence (jing) means single-mindedness, which means not to deviate from it. . . . Otherwise, the mind will become divided” (see also Chan 1967, 144). Furthermore, Zhu Xi elaborated on the same point in his ZZQS: e.g., “Concentrating on one thing is similar to holding the will firm” (2:8b) and “What [Cheng] called rectifying the internal life and concentrating on one thing [single-mindedness] will naturally need no manipulation, one’s body will be serious [reverent; jing], and the internal and the external will be unified” (ZZQS 2:22b; translation is from Chan 1963b, 606–607). 88. The locus classicus of this frequently quoted teaching in the Neo-Confucian literature is the Book of Rites, “Meaning of Sacrifices”; see Legge 1970, 2:216. 89. Quoting Yishu 15:6b, which reads further as follows: “. . . will not go wrong or one-sided. If one can cultivate oneself this way for a long time, heaven’s principle will become clear” (see also Chan 1963b, 555). This statement also appears in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, sec. 45 (Chan 1967, 142). Furthermore, Zhu Xi interpreted the same teaching by quoting Cheng Yi: “It is not necessary to talk much about holding fast to seriousness [reverence] (jing). . . . [As Cheng Yi said,] . . . ‘Be correct in movement and appearance and be orderly in thinking and deliberating’ (Yishu 15:5a) ‘Be proper in your dress and be dignified in your gaze.’ (Yishu, 18:3a). Make real effort. Then what Master Cheng called rectifying the internal life and concentrating on one thing will naturally need no manipulation, the body and mind will be reverent, and the internal and external will be united” (ZZQS 2:22a–b; following Chan’s translation, 1963b, 607 with slight modification). T’oegye was very familiar with Zhu’s interpretation of Cheng Yi, as indicated in this letter to Chajung and in his other works. 90. This quote attributed to Yanzi (Master Yan; ?521–481 BCE), Confucius’ disciple, is from Analects 12:1. Yan’s coutesy name was Yuan and his given name Hui. T’oegye likely abbreviated Confucius’ famous teaching, given to his favorite disciple, Yan Yuan, about the practice of human-heartedness through ritual propriety. The original version is as follows: “Confucius said, ‘To master oneself and return to propriety is human-heartedness. . . . To practice human-heartedness depends on oneself. Does it depend on others?’ Yan Yuan said, ‘May I ask for

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specific instructions?’ Confucius said, ‘Do not look when it is against propriety; do not listen when it is against propriety; do not speak when it is against propriety; and do not move when it is against propriety’ ” (see also Chan 1963b, 38, and Lau 1979, 112). Note that as “Master Yan (Yanzi)” was honored by T’oegye and others. Said to have been the most gifted among Confucius’ disciples, Yan’s early death saddened Confucius during his last years, as recorded in the Analects. 91. Referring to the original teaching attributed to Zengzi (Master Tseng; 505–435 BCE) in Analects 8:4: “The cultivated person values three things most in the Way, as follows: When moving the body, get rid of violence and arrogance; when rectifying the facial expression, trustworthiness should be revealed; and when speaking properly, avoid vulgarity and unreasonableness” (see also Lau 1979, 92–93; italics indicate words quoted by T’oegye). Zengzi, whose given name was Shen, was another famous disciple of Confucius. He is known to be the author of the Xiaojing; see Rosemont and Ames 2009 for a recent philosophical translation of this classic. 92. T’oegye indirectly cites a famous saying in Analects 6:7 where Confucius praised his disciple Hui’s (Yan Yuan) utmost practice of human-heartedness: “In his heart for three months at a time Hui does not lapse from benevolence [ren]. The others attain benevolence by fits and starts” (Lau 1979, 82). Note that Lau (incorrectly) gives the section number as 6:7 instead of 6:5; see also Chan 1963b, 29. 93. Indirectly quoting Confucius’ core teaching of ren in Analects 4:15: “The Master said, ‘Shen [Zengzi’s given name], there is one thread binding my way [teaching] together.’ Zengzi said, ‘Yes.’ After the Master had left, the other disciples asked [Zengzi], ‘What did he mean?’ Zengzi replied, ‘The way of our Master is none other than loyalty (chung) and reciprocity (shu)’ ” (see also Lau 1979, 74, or Chan 1963b, 27). 94. T’oegye basically meant Confucius’ teaching on controlling and nourishing the mind-and-heart in daily self-cultivation, as quoted by Mencius. Its full version is as follows: “Confucius said, ‘Hold onto it and it will remain; let go of it and it will disappear. One never knows the time it comes or goes, neither does one know the direction.’ It is perhaps to the [mind-and-]heart this refers” (Mencius 6A:8; translation from Lau 1970, 165). In this passage, Mencius emphasizes mind cultivation and virtuous life in relation to his key doctrine of “preserving the mind-and-heart and nourishing human nature,” which also confirms “the original goodness of human nature,” “the innate heart-mind,” and “the beginnings of virtue.” This teaching was frequently cited and interpreted by Cheng Yi, Zhu Xi, and the Korean thinker T’oegye. For example, Cheng’s and Zhu’s discussion of “holding onto it and preserving it” appears in the Jinsi lu, chap. 4, sec. 46; see Chan 1967, 143. For more discussion of the original human nature, self-cultivation, and sagehood, see, e.g., Chung 1995b (chap. 1), 2009, 2011a; Kalton 1988; Chan 1967 (intro. and chap. 4), 1963b (chap. 3); Gardner 1990. 95. The “unmanifested state” refers to the mind before feelings/emotions are aroused. The locus classicus of weifa is the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhong yong), chap. 1: “Before pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused, it is called centrality



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(zhong). After they are aroused and each and all attain due measure and degree, it is called harmony” (see also Chan’s translation 1963b, 98). This was frequently cited by leading Chinese Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi and then by eminent Korean thinkers such as T’oegye in their metaphysics and ethics dealing with human nature and self-cultivation. For more quotations along the same line and my interpretive comments on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 7 and 8, nn. 101 and 117, respectively. I discuss the same topic in Chung 1995b, 2004, and 2010a. For more studies covering Song and Ming Neo-Confucians, see also, for example, Chan 1963b, 1967; Ching 2000; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990. 96. T’oegye did not specify which Cheng brother, Cheng Hao (older) or Cheng Yi (younger), he was referring to in this sentence. 97. Here Cheng Yi is briefly quoted by T’oegye in mentioning the former’s Confucian interpretation of Zhuangzi’s teaching of zuowang (forgetting; having no thoughts), i.e., the Daoist ideal of non-action and ultimate naturalness. Although T’oegye does not indicate its source, we find the quote in the Er-Cheng quanshu (Complete works of two Cheng masters) 3:6b as follows: “Those who are unable to experience the Way (Dao) cannot think. Therefore, their practice of forgetting in sitting (chwamang/zuowang) will immediately be sitting with [the mind] running away.” This Daoist idea originally appears in Zhuangzi, chap. 6 (“The Great Teacher”). As pointed out by modern scholars (e.g., Chan, de Bary, and Feng), the Cheng masters, like other Song Confucians, were indirectly influenced by philosophical Daoist thinking at the earlier stage in the development of their metaphysics and ethics. So it was not surprising that they criticized this Daoist idea from a Neo-Confucian angle; nor was it surprising for T’oegye to mention the same point in his letter to his disciple Chajung. Burton Watson translates Zhuangzi’s idea of wang as “forgets.” “The True Man of ancient times knew . . . nothing of loving life, knew nothing of hating death. . . . He forgets (zuowang) his face is calm. . . . and his joy and anger prevail through the four springs” (Watson 1964, 74). By contrast, Wing-tsit Chan translates Zhuangzi’s idea as “perfectly at ease” (zhi): “Such being the pure man, his mind is perfectly at ease. His demeanor is natural. . . . His pleasure and anger are as natural as the four seasons” (Chan 1963b, 192). I follow Watson’s translation (“forgets”) in my translation. 98. Su’s given name was Bing (courtesy name Jiming). He first studied with Zhang Zai in Song China and then became a student of the two Cheng masters. For his brief biography, see Song Yuan xuean (Records of the Confucian school in the Song and Yuan periods) 31:11b–12a, as well as Song shi 428:3a. 99. Although T’oegye does not specify its textual source here, someone’s detailed answer to Su’s question is ascribed in the Yishu to Cheng Yi. This conversation appears in Yishu 18:14b–15a (see Chan’s translation, 1963b, 565–566) and Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4 (“Preserving the Mind and Nourishing Human Nature”), sec. 52 (Chan 1967, 145–146). Zhu’s own comments on the same topic appear in ZZYL 96:10b–11a (Chan 1967, 148). 100.  This popular teaching is mentioned by paraphrasing Zhu Xi’s comments on Cheng Yi’s view: “This is why in his answers to Su Chi-ming, Master Ch’eng

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[Cheng in Pinyin] discussed and argued back and forth in the greatest detail and with extreme care, but in the final analysis what he said is no more than the word ‘seriousness’ (ching [also reverence])” (ZZWJ 4:29a; Chan 1963b, 601). See also Yishu 18:5b and 18:6b (as well as 2A:23b, 15:9a, and 15:11a) and Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, secs. 9, 14–16, 18, 25, 36, 38, 44, 47–49, where Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi emphasize that “self-cultivation requires reverence” “for entering the Way.” For Zhu’s discussion of reverence, see ZZYL 44:28b, 62:31b–32a, 94:20a, 96:1a–4a. As discussed in my introduction (under subhead “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation”), reverence is the most important teaching in T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality, as the Korean master repeatedly emphasized the cultivation of reverence to his disciples. For him, the Confucian learning of sagehood is none other than reverence (kyŏnghak). See his “Diagrammatic Essay on Reverence,” Sŏnghak sipto, TC 7:31a–b; vol. 1, 209. I also discuss this topic in connection with Zhu Xi—including its religious nature—in Chung 1995b, 2004, 2011c. 101. The locus classicus of these phrases, “before manifesting” and “after manifesting,” is the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1; i.e., “Before feelings/emotions . . . are aroused” and “after feelings/emotions . . . are aroused.” See n. 95 above for its full text. As I have pointed out already, this classical doctrine was frequently mentioned by Zhu Xi and T’oegye in presenting their metaphysical and ethical discourses on the mind, feelings and emotions, and self-cultivation. For example, Zhu Xi wrote a major philosophical letter on it (ZZWJ 64:28b–29b; see Chan 1963b, 601–602, for a full translation of this letter). For various modern works on this topic, see n. 95 above. For my other textual comments, see Chasŏngnok 8, n. 117. 102. This is Zhu partially quoting Cheng Yi’s saying in Yishu 15:6b: “When the mind becomes one [i.e., single-mindedness], it naturally will not go wrong or be one-sided. If one can cultivate oneself for a long time, heaven’s principle will become clear.” This is repeated in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, sec. 45 (see also Chan 1967, 142). As Zhu indicated in the same text, Cheng Yi also said, “How can we seek anything before the feelings [qing] are aroused? The only thing to do is to cultivate oneself every day. After a sufficient period of time, the feelings will attain due measure and degree when they are aroused” (Jinsi lu, chap. 4, sec. 53; Chan 1967, 146). 103. T’oegye likely is quoting this identical passage as it appears in ZZWJ 64:29a. It is included in Zhu’s major philosophical letter on the meaning of “centrality and harmony” in the Doctrine of the Mean. For a full translation of this letter, see Chan 1963b, 601–602. 104. Ziyue (d.u.) was Lü’s Zujian’s courtesy name. He was the younger brother of Lü Zuqian (courtesy name Bogong; 1137–1181), a leading Song scholar in the study of history and a close rival and colleague of Zhu Xi who compiled the Jinsi lu with him. See Chan 1967, xxxix, for a brief biography of Lü Zuqian. 105. Here T’oegye advised his disciple Chajung about the unity of knowledge and action by quoting Confucius’ famous teaching in Analects 2:13: “Zigong asked [Confucius] about the cultivated person (junzi). The Master said, ‘One who puts his words into action before allowing his words to follow his action” (see also



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Lau 1979, 64). Compare Chan’s translation: “He acts before he speaks and then speaks according to his action” (1963b, 24). 106. T’oegye means that Chajung’s decision (to study at a quiet site on a mountain) is not really convincing for the reason given—i.e., sagely learning—in the preceding paragraphs. 107. By this ambiguous statement, T’oegye probably means to argue that Chŏng Chajung’s text would be an unimportant work if he wrote it only in a quiet place while ignoring the practical nature of the sagely teaching that also applies to managing the daily family and social affairs of Confucian life. 108.  T’oegye does not indicate which Cheng brother. This saying is originally ascribed to Cheng Yi in Yishu 21B:2a, according to Wing-tsit Chan, who translates it as follows: “The feeling [or mind-and-heart; xin] of commiseration is the principle of production in man” (1963b, 569, 630). Zhu Xi also quotes it in ZZYL 44:14a. Note that in the same sentence Cheng Yi quotes “the mind-and-heart of compassion” from Mencius 2A:6 (see also Chan 1963b, 65, or Lau 1970, 82–83) and 6A:6 (see also Lau 1970, 163), where Mencius presented his key doctrine of “the original goodness of human nature” in terms of “the four beginnings of virtue” and the innate ability to do good. Mencius emphasized the mind-and-heart of compassion as “the beginning of ren (human-heartedness or benevolence),” that is, one of the four beginnings. This key doctrine was frequently cited or discussed by T’oegye and Yulgok in the so-called Four-Seven debates on human nature, feelings and emotions, self-cultivation, and sagely learning—arguably the most important and interesting topic in Korean Neo-Confucianism. I cover this topic extensively in Chung 1995b. For other works on the topic in English, see Kalton 1988; Kalton et al. 1994; Ro 1989 (on Yulgok’s thought); and Chung 2004. 109. The term saeng also means “to create (life),” “to produce (things),” “life production.” 110.  T’oegye is quoting Zhu Xi here. This statement is the beginning sentence of Zhu’s famous “Essay on Ren,” ZZWJ 67:20a; see Chan 1963b, 593, for his translation. According to Chan, the same statement originates in Cheng Hao’s (Mingdao) Waishu (Additional works) 3:1a. A similar line is also mentioned by Cheng Hao in Yishu 11:3a: “The great characteristic of Heaven and Earth is to produce [things],” a passage quoted from the Book of Changes, “Appended Remarks,” pt. 2, chap. 1; see also Chan 1963b, 539. 111. In his fifth letter to T’oegye, Chajung probably mentioned this statement, which is originally attributed to Cheng Hao. So T’oegye responded to it on the basis of Zhu Xi’s interpretation of Cheng’s controversial sayings about human nature, good and evil, inborn ki, and physical endowment: e.g., “Good and evil in the world are both the principle of human nature” (Yishu 2A:1b; translation, with slight modification, from Chan 1963b, 529); and “Human nature is the same as ki, and vice versa. They are both inborn. It is reasonable for both good and evil to exist in one’s inborn ki. . . . Due to the inborn ki, some people may become good from childhood and others become evil. . . . Human nature is certainly good, but we cannot also say that evil is not human nature because ‘that which is inborn is human

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nature’ ” (Yishu 1:7b–8a; see also Chan 1963b, 527–528). Zhu Xi and others quoted these statements in criticizing Cheng Hao and articulating the fundamental doctrine of human nature as principle and originally good. Cheng Hao followed the position taken by a classical thinker, Gaozi (ca. 420–ca. 350 BCE), Mencius’ famous debater: “That which is inborn is called human nature” (Mencius 6A:3 and Yishu 1:7b), and evil exists in the world because some people were born with bad physical-psychological dispositions; there are also those who become bad during their lives. Nonetheless, Zhu Xi said that—as T’oegye points out in this letter—the basic problem with Cheng’s thinking is the implication of his argument that both good and evil exist in one’s inborn nature, a position that generated criticism because of its potential to damage the Mercian theory of “original goodness” and the Neo-Confucian doctrine that “human nature is principle.” In his “Commentary on Cheng’s Discourse on Human Nature,” Zhu Xi eventually clarified Cheng’s position as follows: “When human beings and things are created, they get this inborn ki. . . . This is how Master Cheng Hao interpreted Gaozi’s doctrine. . . . [Master Cheng also said,] ‘. . . there are both good and evil in the inborn ki. . . . [Human nature is certainly good], but we cannot say that evil is not nature.’ . . . Even the nature of evil ki is good; therefore, evil may not be said to be not a part of nature. The Master said, ‘Good and evil in the world are both the principle of nature. What we call evil is not original evil; it becomes evil only when one deviates from the Mean.’ All things are originally good, but [some] degenerated into evil, that’s all” (ZZWJ 67:16b–17a; see also Chan 1963b, 597–598). As Chan (1963b, 529) said, Cheng’s position was basically Neo-Confucian because it is about controlling one’s turbid ki through self-cultivation, a position that became elaborated especially in Zhu Xi’s and T’oegye’s philosophies. The topic of good and evil, ki, and selfish desires is extensively discussed in T’oegye’s Four-Seven debate letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and other major essays such as Simhak to (Diagram on the learning of mind cultivation), the eighth diagram of the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208; see Kalton 1988, 160–164), and Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic treatise on the saying that “the mind commends human nature and feelings and emotions”), the sixth part of the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:23a; vol. 1, 205; see Kalton 1988, 120–127, or Chung 1995b, 202). For more discussion, see Chung 2004; 1995b, 62–64, 128–132, 168–172. 112. T’oegye is articulating Zhu’s metaphysics of li and qi. For details, see the first paragraph of the section on “T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle” in my introduction. Other sources for Zhu Xi’s philosophy of li include Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000; and Tu 1985a. T’oegye’s system of ethics and spirituality emphasizes the transcendent, virtuous reality of li over the physical and material world of qi, as I have discussed elsewhere (Chung 2004, 1995b). 113. Ki here means “physical-psychological disposition.” 114. See Yishu 1:7b–8a, where Cheng Hao (Mingdao) talks about good and evil in physical nature (“inborn qi”), the water analogy, and self-cultivation. T’oegye basically follows Zhu Xi’s reasoning in quoting Cheng Hao and even



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clarifying Cheng’s ambiguous points. The quoted words and phrases in this paragraph originate in Cheng’s detailed discussion of human nature in relation to the clarity and turbidity of water: The fact that whatever issues from the Way is good may be compared to the fact that water always flows downward [quoting Mencius 6A:2]. Water as such is the same in all cases. Some water flows onward to the sea without becoming dirty. . . . Some flows only a short distance before growing turbid. Some travels a long distance before growing turbid. . . . Some becomes extremely turbid, some only slightly so. Although water differs in being clean or turbid, we cannot say that the turbid water ceases to be water (nature). . . . The original goodness of human nature is like the original clearness [clarity] of water. (Yishu, 1:7b–8a; Chan 1963b, 528) The same points were quoted and further interpreted by Zhu Xi in his “Commentary on Cheng Mingdao’s Discourse on Human Nature”: [Master Cheng further said,] “For what is inborn is called one’s nature. . . . Water always flows downward”. . . . [The Master further said] “Water as such is the same in all cases [quoting Yishu 1:7b]. . . . Although they differ in being clear or turbid, we cannot say that the turbid water ceases to be water. The original goodness of human nature is like the original clearness of water.” . . . Water that flows only a short distance and is already turbid is like one whose material endowment is extremely unbalanced and impure and innocent. Water that flows a long distance before becoming turbid is like one who, as he grows up, changes his character as he sees something novel and attractive to him and loses his child heart. . . . That water may be turbid to a “greater or smaller extent” is similar to the fact that one’s qi may be dark or clear and pure or impure in varying degree. “We cannot say that the turbid water ceases to be water” means that “it cannot be said that evil is not (human) nature.” (ZZWJ 67:17a–b; Chan 1963b, 598–599) For related points and studies, see n. 111 above. 115. By saying “evil is also human nature,” Chajung was following Cheng Hao’s saying that “we cannot say that evil is not human nature because that which is inborn is human nature” (Yishu, 1:8a). See also Chan 1963b, 529, for his discussion of this topic regarding Cheng Hao. 116. See Er-Cheng quanshu 18:30b. 117.  Here T’oegye definitely concurs with Zhu Xi’s saying that “the substance of the mind” before the arousal of feelings/emotions is “absolutely quiet and inac-

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tive” (ZZWJ, 64:28b; Chan 1963b, 601). T’oegye refers to the original mind-in-itself (the mind’s original substance) by following Zhu’s systematic interpretation that the mind’s unmanifested state (weifa) is the mind-in-itself that is pure and entirely good before feelings/emotions are aroused. In short, the unmanifested state (yifa) of the mind “before activity begins” is “human nature before the mind is aroused,” whereas the manifested state of the mind “when activity has started” represents “feelings/emotions after the mind is aroused.” In other words, the mind includes both states. For this citation, see ZZQS 45:4a–b; see also Chan 1963b, 631. T’oegye also wrote a major essay on this topic, Sim mu ch’eyong pyŏn (Critique on the saying that “the mind does not have substance and function) (TC 41:16b–19a; vol. 1, 328– 330), that defended and articulated the Cheng-Zhu doctrine that the mind unites i and ki and that its substance is human nature and its function is feelings and emotions. For similar quotations and my comments, see Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 95 and 101. Furthermore, as Zhu Xi and T’oegye repeatedly said, “the mind commands human nature and feelings and emotions” (a popular line originally mentioned in Zhang Zai’s Zhangzi quanshu [Complete works of Master Chang] 14:2b) and “the mind unites and apprehends [human] nature and the feelings [and emotions].” See ZZQS 45:4a–b (translation, with my interpolation, from Chan 1963b, 631). See also T’oegye’s Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and other major essays such as Simhak to in his Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 195–211; see Kalton 1988, 160–164), and Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (TC 7:26b; see Kalton 1988, 120–127). I discuss these works in Chung 1995b and 2004. 118.  The saying that “human nature is principle” is a central doctrine emphasized in throughout the teachings of the Cheng-Zhu school, including in the Korean tradition. For Cheng Yi’s saying, see Yishu 22a:11a; for Zhu Xi on this ­doctrine, consult, e.g., ZZQS 42:6b, 42:19b, 43:3a, 45:2a, and ZZYL 5:1b, 5:7a; translations from Chan 1963b, 569, 590–591, 614–623. See also the sections of my introduction entitled “T’oegye’s Philosophy of Principle,” “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions,” and “Self-Cultivation” for T’oegye’s creative interpretation of this topic in terms of i-ki philosophy, the mind and feelings and emotions, good and evil, and self-cultivation, see his Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430; Chung 1995b; see also Kalton et al. 1994), and Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211; see also full translation in Kalton 1988). 119. Here T’oegye means to criticize the Buddha’s teaching on karma, samsara, and the interdependent origination of suffering. Although not well versed in Buddhist doctrine and spirituality, he nevertheless sought to defend Confucian orthodoxy partly by condemning Buddhist teachings. T’oegye developed a negative analysis of Buddhism and especially Zen while criticizing the Ming NeoConfucian Wang Yangming for being “no different from Zen.” T’oegye also said that the Buddha’s teaching was false because it entirely abolished the Confucian teaching of principle. T’oegye’s major critique of Wang’s thought and Buddhism is Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn (Critique of Wang’s Instruction for practical living [Chuanxi lu]). For details, see TC 41:23b–29b (vol. 2, 332–335). I briefly discuss this topic in my introduction under “T’oegye’s Scholarship” and “Against Buddhism and Dao-



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ism.” For Wang Yangming’s life and thought, see Chan 1963a (which includes a translation of Wang’s Chuanxi lu and other major works) and 1963b; Ching 1976. 120. Yi Kŏn was the second son of T’oegye’s older brother, Yi Jing. He probably delivered Chŏng Chajung’s sixth letter to his uncle T’oegye. 121. As he does throughout these letters, T’oegye is here referring to himself by his given (private) name, Hwang, a form of humility in addressing his disciple. He is also expressing his humility when he suggests that he has no political ambition and refers to his ongoing suffering from some gastrointestinal disorder. 122. He is here referring to a well-known doctrine that is frequently discussed in the classical and Neo-Confucian literature; for further comments on the extension of knowledge, see Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12, and Chasŏngnok 10, n. 127. The locus classicus of “the investigation of things (principles)” is the opening section in the Great Learning (chap. 1). Song Chinese thinkers like Zhu Xi discussed this topic extensively; see, for example, Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000; and Tu 1985a. T’oegye and other Korean scholars also discussed this topic frequently. For T’oegye, see Chung 1995b, 2004, 2010a; Kalton 1988; and Yun 1991; regarding the same subject in Yi Yulgok’s thought, see Ro 1989; Chung 1995b, 1998b. 123. T’ oegye is partly quoting the Doctrine of the Mean, especially the first sentence of the second paragraph in chap. 20: “When there is anything not yet studied, or studied but not yet understood, do not give up. When there is any question not yet asked, or asked but its answer not yet known, do not give up. When there is anything not yet thought over, or thought over but not yet apprehended, do not give up . . .” (Chan 1963a, 107; italics indicate T’oegye’s quotation). 124. This is a popular teaching mentioned frequently in Cheng-Zhu NeoConfucianism; e.g., Cheng Yi’s Yishu 15:6b; Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, secs. 45–46 (Chan 1967, 142 and 146); ZZQS 2:22a–b (Chan 1963b, 607); and ZZWJ 64:29a. For T’oegye’s quoted analysis of it, see Chasŏngnok 7, the third paragraph and n. 89, and the second-to-last paragraph and n. 102. Furthermore, in this sentence T’oegye re-emphasizes the practice of reverence in self-cultivation. For more on T’oegye’s spirituality of reverence and my interpretation of it, see the “Reverence (Kyŏng) and Spiritual Cultivation” section of my introduction. See also Chasŏngnok 7 second-to-last paragraph and n. 100. 125. This is a reference to a related popular saying in the Cheng-Zhu literature. For similar statements as well as my interpretive comments, see n. 124 above and Chasŏngnok 7. 126. Kim Myŏngwŏn (1543–1602) (courtesy name Ŭngsun) was a former disciple of T’oegye who eventually achieved a successful government career with several high-ranking positions, including minister of defense. 127. As I have already pointed out, T’oegye often talked about the “investigation of principles” in his major writings. For this topic, see his Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430; Chung 1995b and Kalton et al. 1994) and Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211; Kalton 1988). For more on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 9, n. 122. T’oegye had already singled out the practice of “abiding

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in reverence (kyŏng)” as a unified path of moral and spiritual self-cultivation; for more discussion, see Chasŏngnok 7, second-to-last paragraph and n. 100. 128. This is an instructional line mentioned in the Cheng-Zhu texts. T’oegye has already warned Chŏng Chajung about the problem of taking a shortcut to learning and cultivation in the third paragraph of Chasŏngnok 9 ( “one’s desire to accomplish this quickly”) and in the beginning part of Chasŏngnok 8 (“when one rushes [to a quick success], one may rather end up with no accomplishment”). 129. This statement by Zhang Zai is basically about the moral significance and spiritual dignity of filial piety and ritual practice. T’oegye was familiar with this teaching, as it was often mentioned in the classics and Neo-Confucian commentaries. For example, the Book of Rites describes the ritual care of one’s dead parents as a “supreme” moral extension of filial piety, and according to the Classic of Filial Piety, a filial son honors his dead parents as if they were alive because filial reverence corresponds to the “heavenly way.” As Confucius also confirmed, “When parents are alive, serve them according to li (ritual and propriety). When they die, give them a proper funeral rite according to li, and remember them in memorial rites according to li” (Analects 2:5). The doctrine of filial piety and ancestral rites was justified and interpreted further by Neo-Confucian thinkers. In the quoted sentence, for example, T’oegye is emphasizing Zhang Zai’s points about ancestral rites, although T’oegye does not say so directly. Zhang Zai also said that through the ritual practice of ancestral rites one could purify one’s qi (life energy; physical disposition) in order to recover “the human nature mandated by heaven” (tian ming zhi xing). In other words, as T’oegye would agree, the ultimate expression of filial piety implies a religious sense of family gratitude and reverence toward the spiritual dignity of human existence. In his Jiali (Family rites) and other works, Zhu Xi also discussed ancestral rites as a profound source of self-cultivation: “utmost sincere reverence” during a memorial rite could re-unite the ancestors with their descendants, for “they share the same family’s qi.” This is said to be like a “water-and-waves” analogy (ZZYL 3:6, 10, 18b). In the Jinsi lu, Zhu Xi also pointed out that the heavenly principle (i.e., moral principles) gives the family a “natural tendency” toward ancestral rites (Chan 1967, 232). This is why Zhu, as well as T’oegye, confirmed Zhang Zai’s view that “serving parents and performing ancestral rites” cannot be done by someone else (Chan 1967, 181). T’oegye shared that opinion, as indicted in his letters to Chajung and others; his interpretation was a significant contribution to ritual practice in Korea. A recent scholarly translation of the Xiaojing is Rosemont and Ames 2009. See also Ebrey 1991a and 1991b for the Chinese tradition of Confucian rites (with more focus on its historical and social aspects); Palmer 1985 and Chung 1994b and 2006 for the Korean tradition; and Smith 1959 for the Japanese tradition. 130. In this sentence, T’oegye basically means Confucius’ teaching as stated in Analects 1:6: “Young people should be filial [to parents] at home and be respectful to their elders outside the home. Being earnest and trustworthy, they should love all people extensively and be close with people of human-heartedness. When they have energy to spare from fulfilling such [moral] life, they should then devote it to



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learning and cultivation” (see also Lau 1979, 59, and Chan 1963b, 20). In Chasŏngnok 5, T’oegye has already emphasized a similar piece of advice as follows: “. . . your claim indeed differs from what people [Confucius] in the past said [about learning]. . . . Hopefully, you will not abandon the right purpose [for learning] and will correct the reality of your engagement with work, follow your parents, and take care of them with joy.” For further relevant comments, see the first two paragraphs of this letter including nn. 64 and 65. 131. Note that T’oegye’s quotation of the old saying “a tree wishing to be peaceful but the wind does not stop” closely connects to another well-known proverb, “One wishes to serve one’s parents well, but they do not wait [because they pass away sooner].” In the context of what T’oegye naturally meant by the Confucian way of filial piety and ancestral rites while citing Confucius and Zhang Zai in the two preceding paragraphs, he certainly implies in this sentence that he deeply regretted his own failure to practice filial piety toward his parents when they were alive. 132. Here T’oegye re-emphasizes the practice of “holding and preserving,” a topic that he already discussed in his previous letters to Chŏng Chajung. T’oegye meant Confucius’ teaching about nourishing the mind through self-cultivation: “Hold onto it and it will remain. . . .” (as quoted in Mencius 6A:8). This and related sayings were frequently interpreted by Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi, as well as by T’oegye: e.g., Cheng’s teaching of “concentrating on one thing . . . in order to rectify the self internally” (Yishu 15:1a and 15:6b); “Reverence (jing) means concentrating on one thing [i.e., single-mindedness]. . . .” (Jinsi lu 4:48); and “Concentrating on one thing is similar to holding the will firm” (ZZQS 2:8b). See also Jinsi lu, chap. 4, secs. 45–46 (Chan 1967, 142–143). For my other comments on “holding it [the mind] and preserving it,” see Chasŏngnok 7, especially its third and fourth paragraphs, including nn. 87 and 94. Furthermore, regarding the phrase “the defect of . . . trying to achieve it too quickly,” T’oegye expressed the same warning against this as well. See my further comments in n. 128 above. 133. In this sentence T’oegye, as usual, is expressing deep humility about his character and experience, again in order to encourage his disciple to pursue true learning successfully. Note the extent to which T’oegye, as a caring master-mentor and a leading philosopher, is at once modest and inspiring to his disciples. This pedagogical and spiritual character is embedded in most of his letters, including those in the Chasŏngnok. See also Chasŏngnok 9, esp. n. 121, for related points. 134. Another example of T’oegye’s frequent use of polite honorific language in his letters to Chŏng Chajung (and, of course, to others). He, for example, uses the honorific word kong (“you sir/dear”) in addressing his disciple. The same word literally means “public” (or public official); in another context it also refers to a duke or nobleman. 135. He is referring to Qiu Jun, details for whom can be found in Chasŏngnok 3, n. 30. 136. It is not clear what aspects of Qiu’s thought T’oegye is talking about in response to whatever Chajung mentioned in his seventh letter to his master.

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T’oegye probably believed that Qiu was a narrow-minded scholar who failed to interpret Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism broadly and deeply. 137. Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk was the courtesy name of Yunhŭi. He was a former disciple of T’oegye who passed the highest civil service exam and also held an upper-level official position in the central government in Seoul. 138. Kwŏn Homun (1532–1587), whose courtesy name was Changjung, was a disciple of T’oegye and a grandson-in-law of T’oegye’s eldest brother (Yi Cham). He was a good Confucian with significant talent in poetry. 139.  Yi Kyo (d.u.) was the third son of T’oegye’s fourth elder brother (Yi Hae). 140. Kwŏn Ch’unran (1539–1617) (courtesy name Ŭnhoe; literary name Hoegok) was a disciple of T’oegye as well as a good scholar from the Andong area. His writings include the Hoegokjip (Collected works of Kwŏn Hoegok), Chinhakdo (Diagram of advancing [Confucian] learning), and Kongmun ŏnin rok (Records of the Confucian school’s teachings of human-heartedness). 141. This study cottage was located near to Andong, T’oegye’s hometown. 142. Yan and Zeng were two of Confucius’ favorite disciples, insofar as their names and sayings are occasionally included in the Analects. In discussing the Confucian way of self-cultivation, T’oegye often mentioned Yan Yuan (also known as Yanzi, “Master Yan”; ?521–481 BCE) and Zengzi (Shen, given name; later known as Zengzi, “Master Zeng”; 505-425 BCE). T’oegye respected both as true role models for the Confucian life, something clearly emphasized in this final letter to Chŏng Chajung. T’oegye’s fourth letter to Chŏng (Chasŏngnok 7), for example, mentions Confucius’ teaching of human-heartedness and propriety, which was given to Yan Tzu (Analects 12:1). T’oegye also highlighted the other key teaching attributed to Zengzi: “Whenever moving the body . . . , rectifying the facial expression . . . (Analects 8:4). For my further discussion of this topic, see Chasŏngnok 7, including nn. 90–92. 143. In this and preceding paragraphs, T’oegye again advises his disciple Chŏng Chajung to pursue learning properly and sincerely as a program of dedicated “lifelong cultivation.” This is why, as he already said in his seventh letter to Chŏng, people must transcend “the defect of . . . trying to achieve it [learning] too quickly.” See also the fourth paragraph of Chasŏngnok 10 and n. 128, in addition to the third paragraph of Chasŏngnok 9 and the beginning part of the Chasŏngnok 8. 144. In Chasŏngnok 8, second-to-last paragraph, T’oegye has already advised his disciple that “I find your tendency of ‘seeking’ and ‘manipulating’ seriously excessive.” Here the phrase “seeking and manipulating” originates in Zhu Xi’s discussion of the practice of “holding onto it [the mind] and preserving it” in terms of “before manifesting” and “after manifesting,” as quoted by T’oegye: “One cannot seek before manifesting and cannot manipulate after manifesting. It is only that if the daily effort at cultivating oneself with enduring reverence is utmost and not disturbed by the hypocrisy of human desires. . . .” (ZZWJ 64:29a; see also Chan 1963b, 601). In the Jinsi lu (chap. 4, secs. 45 and 53), Zhu confirmed Cheng Yi’s teaching that “the only thing to do is to cultivate oneself every day” (Chan 1967,



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142, 146). This is basically what T’oegye advises Chŏng Chajung to do rather than his taking any shortcut to success. 145. The Tiaoxi zhen is an instructional guide written by Zhu Xi to help his students and others in the practice of self-examination and mind cultivation. T’oegye probably used it as one of his regular texts in lecturing to his disciples. 146. What T’oegye had in mind here is related to Cheng Yi’s and Zhu Xi’s teaching of “concentrating on one thing . . . in order to rectify the self internally” (Yishu 15:1a, 15:6b and Jinsi lu chap. 4, sec. 45; Chan 1967, 142). The line “be watchful over the external life” concurs with Zhu’s interpretation by quoting Cheng Yi: “Be correct in movement and appearance; be orderly in thinking and deliberating.” “Be proper in your dress and be dignified in your gaze.” In this way, “the body and mind will be reverent, and the internal and external will be united” (ZZQS 2:22a–b; see also Chan 1963b, 607). T’oegye also articulates this topic in Chasŏngnok 7, par. 3; see my additional comments in nn. 87–91. 147. Simhak (mind cultivation; study of the mind) is one of the most important themes in T’oegye’s entire system of metaphysics, ethics, and spirituality. T’oegye, like Chinese Neo-Confucians, often discussed it especially regarding human nature, feelings and emotions, and mind cultivation. T’oegye articulated it extensively and thoroughly in his major works, such as the Four-Seven debate letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430; Kalton et al. 1994 or Chung 1995b), Simhak to, the eighth part of his Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208; Kalton 1988, 160–164), and Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl, the sixth diagram of the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:23a; vol. 1, 205; Kalton 1988, 120–127). For related points on T’oegye’s philosophy and experience of mind cultivation, see the “Self-Cultivation” section of my introduction. For the Cheng-Zhu teaching of simhak, see Chan 1986a and de Bary 1981 and 2004. I discuss T’oegye’s interpretation also in Chung 2004 and 1995b, 124–132, 133–138, 172–175. 148. As I have already pointed out, just as T’oegye’s humility leads him to refer to himself by name (Hwang), he used honorific language in his letters to his disciples. In this case, he once again uses the word kong (“you sir/dear”) in addressing his disciple Chŏng Chajung. 149. Yi Kyŏngso (literary name Mungok) was a disciple of T’oegye staying at T’oegye’s academy. He was highly respected by his master and friends for his utmost practice of filial piety. His name is also mentioned at the beginning of T’oegye’s third letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 6). 150. Cho’s courtesy name was Sagyŏng (1524–1606) and Mok his given name. He was a disciple of T’oegye who became a highly dedicated Confucian scholar. 151. Yi Taeyong’s given name was Sukryang (1519–1592); his courtesy name was Taeyong. He became one of T’oegye’s close disciples at his Tosan Academy. Yi is said to have developed excellent literary skills; this is why, as mentioned at the end of T’oegye’s third letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 6), Yi assisted his master with copying Zhu Xi’s major philosophical letters for the purpose of publishing (printing) them as an edited book. 152. Kim’s courtesy name was Tonsŏ (1631–1598) and Puryun his given

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name; Sŏlwŏldang was his literary name. He was a disciple of T’oegye who had once held a high-ranking official position and who, after his retirement from public service, contributed to teaching disciples. His works are in the Sŏlwŏldang jip (Collected works of Kim Sŏlwŏldang) (6 vols.). T’oegye wrote two more letters to him, both included in the Chasŏngnok: a lengthy letter to Kim Tonsŏ ( Chasŏngnok 13) and another long letter (Chasŏngnok 3), “On Ritual Propriety for Moving Mother’s Coffin to Father’s Grave Site for a Combined Tradition,” this time to Kim Paekyong, Kim Kahaeng, and Kim Tonsŏ. I also note that Kim Tonsŏ thoroughly studied the Great Learning (one of the Four Books), and the late-Song thinker Zhen Dexiu’s Xinjing (K. Simgyŏng; Classic of the mind-and-heart), T’oegye’s favorite text for teaching and practicing mind cultivation. For T’oegye and the Xinjing, see the end of the section on “T’oegye’s Life” in my introduction. I also discuss this topic in Chung 2004 and 2010a. 153. T’oegye doesn’t say so, but it is possible that Kim Tonsŏ was afflicted with some chronic illness. 154. It is not immediately clear why T’oegye suddenly changes the subject of discussion to this ambiguous one (“buying farmland”), which does not logically follow from the preceding sentences about his disciples in relation to true learning and personal cultivation. It is probably a response to a question asked by Chŏng Chajung in his eighth letter to T’oegye, i.e., asking for the master’s opinion on Chŏng’s interest in buying a piece of land, given the fact that he is, after all, a scholar, not a merchant. 155. T’oegye is indirectly citing Confucius’ teaching about a cultivated person’s ability to distinguish the righteous life from selfish profit. In the Analects, Confucius emphasized that “the cultivated person (junzi) understands righteousness, whereas the ignorant person understands profit” (4:16), and that “the cultivated person regards righteousness as the substance of everything. He practices it according to the principle of propriety” (15:17). T’oegye articulated this doctrine and his basic interpretation, like Zhu Xi’s, is that one practices the virtuous life by “following moral principles [i.e., heaven’s principle],” whereas one would seek material profit by “following selfish desires.” I discuss this topic in the section on “Self-cultivation” in my introduction; see also Chung 1995b and 2004. 156. I have already explained the locus classicus of the phrases “before manifesting [arousal]” and “after manifesting,” as well as their connection to the NeoConfucian teaching of “holding it [the mind] and preserving it.” These ideas were frequently mentioned by Zhu Xi and T’oegye. For additional citations, my comments, and modern works on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 95 and 101, and Chasŏngnok 9, n. 117. 157. T’oegye’s use of these three words originates partly in Mencius 6A:8: “Confucius said, ‘Hold onto it [mind-and-heart] and it will remain; let go of it and it will disappear. One never knows the time it comes or goes, neither does one know the direction’ ” (Lau 1970, 165). T’oegye also had in mind the Mencian teaching of mind cultivation in regard to “preserving the heart-and-mind and nourishing human nature” and “the original goodness of human nature.” This was discussed by



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Zhu Xi and T’oegye also in terms of the practice of “holding it and preserving it.” For details, see the middle of Chasŏngnok 7 and n. 94. 158. In this sentence T’oegye is likely referring to Mencius 6A:8, which emphasizes the good mind-and-heart in practicing the virtuous life: “When the qi during the night cannot be preserved sufficiently, the human being is not far removed from an animal. . . . Confucius said, ‘Hold onto it and it will remain. . . .’ ” 159. Yanping was Zhu Xi’s teacher. For more on Yanping, see Chasŏngnok 6, n. 82. What T’oegye had in mind was probably what Li’s Yanping dawen taught: If, on occasion, people feel neither pleasure, nor anger, nor sorrow, nor joy, it is wrong to call this a state “before arousal” (weifa); it is rather that there is “no leading role [by the mind].” 160. Dingfu (1053–1123) is the courtesy name of You Zuo. He was a student of the Cheng brothers in Song China and once served as a professor at the national academy. His major works are Yi shuo (Book of Changes explained) and Zhongyong yi (Understanding the Doctrine of the Mean). For more on his life and thought, see Song shi 428:2a and SongYuan xuean (A record of Confucian scholars in the Song and Yuan dynasties) 26:1a–3a; cited in Chan 1967, 79 (where You is mentioned by Cheng Hao in the Jinsi lu). 161.  Zengzi was a beloved disciple of Confucius. This line comes from a long story based on a conversation between Mencius and a man named Chen Xiang in Mencius 3A:4. Chen Xiang and his brother (Xin) were both students of Chen Liang, “an outstanding scholar” who loved the way of Confucius. During the last part of the conversation, Mencius criticized Chen Xiang for betraying his own master and following the non-Confucian, barbarian way. You and your brother studied under him [Ch’en Liang; Chen Liang in Pinyin] for scores of years, and now that your teacher is dead, you turn your back on him. When Confucius died, and the three-year mourning period had elapsed, his disciples packed their bags and prepared to go home. . . . One day [disciples] Tzu-hsia [Zixia], Tzu-chang [Zizhang], and Tzu-yu [Ziyou] wanted to serve Yu Jo [You Ruo] as they had served Confucius because of his resemblance to the Sage. They tried to force Tseng Tzu [Zengzi] to join them, but Tseng Tzu said, “That will not do. Washed by the River and the river Han, bleached by the autumn, so immaculate was he that his whiteness could not be surpassed.” Now you turn your back on the way of your teacher in order to follow the southern barbarian with the twittering tongue, who condemns the [Confucian] way of Former Kings. You are indeed different from Tseng Tzu (Zengzi)! (Lau 1970, 103–104) In other words, Mencius was trying to praise Zengzi for his dedication to the Confucian life and his role model as a true follower of Confucius. This view is obviously shared by T’oegye in this letter to Chajung. For T’oegye’s high admiration of Zengzi, see also Chasŏngnok 7, par. 3 and nn. 91 and 93, and Chasŏngnok 11, n. 142.

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162. Anqing, whose courtesy name was Chen Chun, was one of Zhu’s leading disciples. T’oegye also talked about Chen in his second letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 5, par. 5); for more on Chen and his writings, see n. 71 above. 163. T’oegye was familiar with Chen’s commentaries on Zhu Xi’s philosophy; in particular, he knew about Chen’s Sishu xingli ziyi, but he did not have a high regard for Chen’s scholarship because, as he points out here, Chen’s rationalistic discussion of concepts failed to engage with actual self-cultivation, and Chen himself was not interested in practicing it. For more on Chen, see Chasŏngnok 5, par. 5 and n. 71. 164. As usual, T’oegye cites this line indirectly. He is partially referring to a statement about “pursuing” and “understanding” the Way in the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 4, a famous teaching attributed to Confucius: “I know why the Way is not pursued. The intelligent go beyond it and the stupid do not come up to it. I know why the Way is not understood. The worthy go beyond it and the unworthy do not come up to it. There is no one who does not eat and drink, but there are few who can really know flavor” (Chan 1963b, 99). In other words, in T’oegye’s opinion, Chen Chun took a shortcut approach to learning and therefore, by ignoring self-cultivation, did not “go beyond the Way.” Again, we see the extent to which T’oegye emphasized the moral and spiritual practice of self-cultivation to Chajung, as well as to others in his other letters and essays. I discuss this topic in the section on “Self-Cultivation” in my introduction; see also Chung 2004 and 2010a. 165. Wan Zhang, the name of Mencius’ disciple, is also the fifth chapter title in Mencius (5A:1–9 and 5B:1–9), for both parts of the chapter present a conversation between Wang Chang and his master. The disciple named Gongsun Chou represents the second book title in the Mencius (2A:1–9 and 2B:1–14), where he and his master talk about various Confucian ideas. 166. T’oegye often expressed this view (Neo-Confucian orthodoxy) in his other writings, including the Four-Seven debate letters (see Chung 1995b) and Ten Diagrams of Sage Learning (see Kalton 1988). It is important to note that T’oegye, a committed follower of the Confucian school, also finished compiling in 1559—a year after publishing his Chasŏngnok (1558)—the Songge Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok (Comprehensive records of the [Cheng-Zhu] school of principle in the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties) (TC, vol. 3, 249–552). It is a detailed, encyclopedic book on the history of Song, Yuan, and Ming scholars, covering over five hundred names, especially those who, according to T’oegye’s thinking, contributed to the flourishing of Neo-Confucianism in China and its eventual influence on the Korean school. For my brief discussion of this work, see the section on “T’oegye’s Scholarship” in my introduction. 167. Hu’s (1098–1156) given name was Yin and his literary name, Zhitang. Hu Anguo (literary name Wending, courtesy name Kanghou; 1073–1138) adopted him as a son from his younger brother. See n. 168 below for more about Hu Anguo. 168. Referring to Hu Anguo. For Hu Anguo as well as Hu Zhitang, see Song shi 436. Hu Anguo was a well-known scholar and a professor at the national university in China. His name is briefly mentioned by Zhu Xi in the Jinsi lu (see Chan



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1967, 52). T’oegye mentions some issue with Hu Anguo and his adopted son Zhitang at the end of Chasŏngnok 11. For Hu Anguo and the Hu family, see also Song shi 435:4b–13a. 169. Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk was a former disciple of T’oegye. For his brief biography, see Chasŏngnok 10, n. 137; here T’oegye asks Chŏng Chajung to get some news about Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk, who was working as a high-ranking official in Seoul, and to forward him, if possible, two letters exchanged between Chŏng Chajung and Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk so that T’oegye could discuss something the former mentioned in his letter to the latter. 170. See n. 138 for more information about Kwŏn Homun, another disciple of T’oegye. 171.  T’oegye is partially quoting Confucius’ famous teaching in Analects 6:21: “The people of wisdom find joy in streams; the people of ren (benevolence) find joy in mountains. The wise people are active; the benevolent people are tranquil. The wise people are joyful; the benevolent people are long-lived” (see also Lau 1979, 84, or Chan 1963b, 30). 172. In this metaphoric sentence, T’oegye basically implies that benevolent people are similar to the unshakable tranquility and universal human-heartedness of mountains, and wise people are similar to the great activity and natural wisdom of streams. 173. The term ryu also means “same group,” “to resemble,” “identical.” 174.  To be more specific, T’oegye is probably referring here to the Lunyu jizhu (Collected commentaries on the Analects) compiled by Zhu Xi, who presented a number of textual and interpretive comments on the same statement in the Analects; for a recent study of this text, see Gardner 2003. Zhu also compiled other volumes of the Collected Commentaries on the Four Books of Confucianism, including the Mengzi jizhu (Collected commentaries on the Mencius). See also Gardner 1986 and 2007 for Zhu’s basic interpretation of the Four Books. 175. The term sa, like ryu, means “same group,” “to resemble,” “identical,” etc. 176. For this sentence, T’oegye is following Zhu Xi’s reading and interpretation. 177. T’oegye was very familiar with the Confucian teaching of ren and discussed it in his writings; for example, see Chasŏngnok 7, par. 3; see also nn. 90, 92, and 93. The Confucian idea of ren is a well-researched topic in the current literature, so I do not need to rehearse it here except to say that the Analects emphasizes ren many times as the universal virtue of human-heartedness that embraces all other specific virtues. A sage is ideally the person of perfect ren; ren is the universal way of self-cultivation and a virtuous life. To practice it is basically the daily observation of propriety and ritual. This doctrine became one of the most important teachings of Song Neo-Confucianism as well as of the Korean school. For the current scholarship on this topic, see, among others, Chan 1963b, 1967, 1986a; Gardner 2003, 2007; Hall and Ames 1987; Lau 1979; Tu 1979; Ch’eng 1991; Ching 1989. For T’oegye and the Korean interpretation, see Kalton 1988, Chung 1995b, Keum 1998. 178. This is T’oegye’s own interpretation.

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179. By the phrase “what is high and green,” he means mountains. 180. By “what is strongly overflowing,” he means water (e.g., ocean or lake). 181.  T’oegye means the second part of Confucius’ saying (Analects 6:21): “The people of wisdom find joy in water; the people of ren find joy in mountains. The wise people are active; the benevolent people are tranquil. The wise people are joyful; the benevolent people are long-lived” (see also Lau 1970, 84, or Chan 1963b, 30). 182. In his letters to his disciple Chŏng Chajung, T’oegye also warned him and others about the serious flaw in this approach to learning and self-cultivation; i.e., taking a shortcut, by-passing self-cultivation to seek quick success, and selfish “manipulating.” In Chasŏngnok 11, par. 3, he says, “regarding Confucian learning . . . you do not need to search for it forcefully or manipulate it in the typical manner.” For the Cheng-Zhu origin of this teaching as well as T’oegye’s interpretation, see Chasŏngnok 9 and 11, esp. nn. 128 and 144, respectively. 183. In my notes on T’oegye’s letters to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 4–11), I extensively discuss this topic of mind cultivation through reverence according to his interpretation of Cheng-Zhu teachings; I also cite certain published works. For the doctrine of “preserving mind-and-heart,” see nn. 94 and 132 and Chasŏngnok 11, esp. nn. 146, 157. For the cultivation and practice of “reverence,” see nn. 87, 100, 124, and 127. For my discussion of this topic, see the sections on “Self-Cultivation” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” in my introduction. 184. In another example of T’oegye’s humility, he professes to his disciple Kwŏn that he has failed to complete his self-cultivation. This confession is also intended to encourage or inspire his disciple and others to pursue the true way of self-cultivation. 185.  This is T’oegye’s longest letter, listed as the thirteenth in the Chasŏngnok. Kim Tonsŏ (1531–1598) was the courtesy name of Puryun (literary name Sŏlwŏldang). A leading disciple of T’oegye, he had once held a high-ranking official position and his works are included in the six-volume Sŏlwŏldangjip (Collected works of Kim Sŏlwŏldang). In his eighth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11), T’oegye mentions Kim, praising his scholarly dedication and merit as follows: There are still many scholars and students in our town, but all of them are obsessively busy preparing themselves for government service examinations. Therefore, their reading efforts are very hurried, for which reason they have no intention whatsoever of pausing for a moment to properly understand and rectify the reason for this work. . . . , there is Kim Tonsŏ, who always puts his greatest effort into learning by searching for the right meaning and also focuses his thinking on Zhu Xi’s writings. However, he met with severe misfortune [probably a chronic illness] and has been enduring a lof of suffering for a long time and unable to dedicate himself to study. This is indeed heartbreaking! Chasŏngnok 3, a reply to Kim Paekyong, Kim Kahaeng (Paekyong’s younger brother), and Kim Tonsŏ, is another long letter; see also n. 27 above. Kim thoroughly



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studied the Great Learning as well as Zhen Dexiu’s Xinjing, T’oegye’s favorite text on mind cultivation. 186. As I discuss in the “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” section of my introduction, the subject of reverence often appears in T’oegye’s writings because it is arguably the most important idea in his entire system of ethics and spirituality. He repeatedly emphasized that the Confucian way of sagehood is none other than the daily cultivation of reverence; e.g., see Sŏnghak sipto, TC 7:31a–b; vol. 1, 209. In my notes to T’oegye’s letters to Chŏng Chajung, I have commented on his interpretation of reverence (see, e.g., Chasŏngnok 7, 9, and 10, esp. nn. 100, 124, and 127, respectively; see also Chasŏngnok 12, n. 183). Elsewhere, I discuss T’oegye’s philosophy of reverence in terms of religious ethics, spirituality, interreligious dialogue, or ecological thinking (Chung 2004, 2010a, 2011b, 2011c). 187. Cheng Yi is indirectly quoted by T’oegye here in using Cheng’s NeoConfucian critique of the Daoist teaching of zuowang (K. chwamang; forgetting or having no thoughts) and non-action, which first appeared in Zhuangzi, chap. 6 (“The Great Teacher”). Although T’oegye does not specify the source of this critique, we can find it in Er-Cheng quanshu 3:6b, which reads, “Those who are unable to experience the Way cannot think. Therefore, their practice of ‘forgetting in sitting’ (zuowang) will immediately be sitting with [the mind] running away.” The Cheng masters criticized the Daoist idea from a Confucian angle, and is it not surprising for T’oegye to make the same point here. For more, see the middle of Chasŏngnok 7, including n. 97, where he articulates Cheng Yi’s point as well as the Neo-Confucian doctrine of reverence in opposition to the Daoist teaching. See also Watson 1964, 74, regarding his translation of Zhuangzi’s idea of zuowang as “forgets.” 188. Quoting Mencius 6A:15 (see also Lau 1970, 168), where the text discusses the difference between a “great person” and an “inferior person” in terms of the mind-and-heart’s “innate ability” to think and do good for “greater things” such as moral virtues. Note that T’oegye skips the sentence “This is what heaven has given me” just following “. . . it will not get the result” in this paragraph, but he neither indicates so nor gives a full citation for this saying. 189. This statement is an example of how T’oegye, like other thinkers in traditional East Asia, does not give specific documentation for most direct quotations or paraphrases in his writings. Here he briefly quotes Analects 16:10, where Confucius recommends nine-fold thinking to any cultivated person as follows: The cultivated person maintains nine thoughts: thinking to see clearly; thinking to hear acutely; thinking to appear cordial; thinking to appear respectful; thinking to speak conscientiously; thinking to act with reverence; thinking to ask when doubtful; thinking about the difficult consequences when angry; and thinking about righteousness at the sight of gain. (Italics indicate T’oegye’s wording; see also Lau 1979, 140–141, or Chan 1963b, 45)

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190. What T’oegye had in mind is similar to Cheng Yi’s Neo-Confucian teaching of “concentrating on one thing (single-mindedness) . . . and being reverent in order to rectify the self internally” (Yishu 15:1a; see also Chan 1963b, 552). Zhu Xi’s interpretation: “Reverence means concentrating on one thing. . . . Otherwise, the mind will become dispersed” (Jinsi lu 4:48; see also Chan 1967, 144); and “Concentrating on one thing is similar to holding the will firm” (ZZQS 2:8b). For similar statements, see Jinsi lu, 4:45–46 (Chan 1967, 142–143). Similarly, T’oegye’s teaching to “watch the external life” and “cultivate the internal life” concurs with Zhu’s interpretation of Cheng Yi’s doctrine to “be correct in movement and appearance; be orderly in thinking and deliberating.” In this way, “the body and mind will be reverent, and the internal and external will be united” (ZZQS 2:22a–b; see also Chan 1963b, 607). T’oegye also discusses the doctrine of “concentrating on one thing” in Chasŏngnok 7 (par. 3), 10, and 11, including nn. 87, 132, and 146, respectively. I also discuss this topic in my introduction under the headings of “Self-Cultivation” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation.” 191. T’oegye does not specify which Cheng brother, Hao or I, is talking here, another instance of the difficulty of tracing the textual source and location of this (or any other) quotation. Regarding the second phrase “to concentrate on each,” see n. 190 just above. 192. It is not clear what T’oegye really means here by “the people’s mind is generally empty and illuminating . . . and originally ready with ten thousand principles.” This is because he often emphasized in his Four-Seven letters and other major writings that the ordinary human mind “after the arousal of feelings/emotions and desires” is basically subject to becoming “partial” or “selfish.” T’oegye probably means in this letter that the original mind (or the mind’s original substance) “before the arousal of feelings/emotions” is “empty and illuminating” and therefore purely good; he says as much in his fifth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 8). This would concur with Zhu Xi’s teaching that “the substance of the mind” before the arousal of feelings/emotions is “absolutely quiet and inactive” (ZZWJ 64:28b; Chan 1963b, 601). T’oegye is probably trying here to instruct his disciple Kim about the original mind, not “the people’s mind” in general. For my related comments on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 8, n. 117. 193. Here T’oegye indirectly quotes Analects 15:41, where Confucius articulates the proper use of language and the sincere way of speaking. The full version of this passage continues as follows: “. . . the musician Mien came to the steps. . . . After the musician had gone, Tzu-chang asked, ‘Is that the way to talk to a musician.’ The Master said, ‘Yes, that is the way to help a musician’ ” (see also Lau 1979, 137). 194. Although T’oegye does not indicate the textual source of this sentence, he is likely referring to the fifth part of Confucius’ teaching about the cultivated person’s “nine-fold thinking” in Analects 16:10 (its full version is included in n. 189 above). 195. T’oegye quotes especially the first part of Confucius’ teaching on “ninefold thinking” (Analects 16:10). For more information, see n. 189 above.



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196. T’oegye is partially citing Analects 10:3, which reveals Confucius’ role model for reverence and etiquette. Its full translation includes the following additional sentences: “He went forward with quickened steps, as though he was gliding on wings. After the withdrawal of the guests, he invariably reported, ‘The guest has stopped looking back’ ” (Lau 1979, 101). 197. T’oegye is quoting especially the sixth part of Confucius’ teaching in “nine-fold thinking” (Analects 16:10). 198. T’oegye is indirectly and partially quoting the third and fourth parts of the same idea: “thinking to appear cordial,” “thinking to appear respectful” (Analects 16:10). 199.  Citing indirectly and partially Analects 6:19, which vaguely describes the difference among those who are above and below average as follows: “The Master said, ‘You can tell those who are above average about the best, but not those who are below average’ ” (Lau 1979, 84). 200. Ziyue was the courtesy name of Lü Zujian, who was the younger brother of Lü Zuqian, a leading Song historian and close colleague of Zhu Xi, with whom he compiled the Jinsi lu. T’oegye mentions Lü Ziyue elsewhere in discussing the doctrine of “holding it [the mind] and preserving it” in regard to the “unmanifested state” of the mind (before feelings/emotions are aroused) and “cultivating oneself” with enduring reverence. For details, see Chasŏngnok 7, including nn. 87, 89, 94, and 102. 201. Letter to Lü Ziyue, ZZDQ 47. 202. Although T’oegye does not specify it, he is probably quoting Mencius 2A:2 indirectly and partially. The full version of Mencius’ teaching on righteousness and the proper way of mind cultivation is as follows: When one’s conduct is not satisfactory to one’s mind, then one is devoid of nourishment. I therefore said that Kao Tzu [Gaozi in Pinyin; Mencius’ debater] never understood righteousness because he made it something external. Always be doing without expectation. Let the mind not forget its objective, but let there be no artificial effort to help it to grow. (Chan 1963b, 63; italics indicate T’oegye’s wording) I am basically following Wing-tsit Chan’s translation here; cf. D. C. Lau’s translation: Whenever one acts in a way that falls below the standard set in one’s heart, it will collapse. Hence I said Kao Tzu never understood rightness because he looked upon it as external. You must work at it and never let it out of your mind. At the same time, while you never let it out of your mind, you must not forcibly help it grow either. (Lau 1970, 78) Lau probably missed a relevant point about “doing without [selfish] expectation” for calculated merit or benefit, the point that was first interpreted by Zhu Xi and then confirmed by T’oegye.

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203. T’oegye is likely quoting Analects 1:4 indirectly and partially. The full text illustrates what Zengzi learned from Confucius regarding self-reflection: “Zengzi said, ‘Every day I reflect on myself in three ways: first, whether in working for others I have not been loyal; second, whether in dealing with friends I have not been faithful; and third, whether I have not studied the transmitted teaching’ ” (see also Chan 1963b, 20, or Lau 1979, 63). 204. Mencius 2A:2 is partially cited here; see n. 202 above for the same passage. 205. Although T’oegye did not specify the textual source of this famous line, it originally comes from the Book of History, which reads: “The human mind [insim/ renxin] is precarious; the moral mind [tosim/dioxin] is subtle. Remain refined and single-minded: hold fast the Mean” (Legge 1970, 3:61; italics indicate T’oegye’s wording). The sage-emperor Shun is here instructing his successor Yu about mind cultivation by contrasting the “precariousness” of the human (ordinary) mind with the “goodness” of the moral mind, as interpreted by Zhu Xi, T’oegye, and others. Zhu’s major essay on this topic is “Treatise on the Examination of the Mind,” ZZWJ 67:19a. Zhu, as well as T’oegye later, identified daoxin with heaven’s principle, and renxin with the selfishness of human cravings and feelings (see ZZYL 61:5a–b and ZZWJ 76:21b, preface to Zhongyong zhangju [Commentary on the words of phrases of the Mean]). The same passage is also mentioned in the Xinjing 1a by Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235), Zhu’s late-Song follower. A good discussion of the Xinjing is de Bary 1981, 73–82; see also Chan 1986, 1967; de Bary 1981; Gardner 1990. Furthermore, as I discuss in the sections on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” and “Self-Cultivation” in my introduction, the Xinjing influenced the early development of T’oegye’s religious thought because it was an important text for his spiritual cultivation. In his Four-Seven letters and Simhak to, the eighth diagram of the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208; Kalton 1988, 160–164, or Chung 1995b, 202), T’oegye articulated the same topic in relation to ethics and spirituality; for details, see Chung 1995b and 2010a. 206.  Yan Yuan was one of Confucius’ beloved disciples, and the conversation between the two appears numerous times in the Analects. Zhonggong was another key disciple. T’oegye is partially referring here to two famous sections in the Analects (12:1–2), both of which articulate Confucius’ central teaching of propriety/ ritual and human-heartedness and the golden rule to Yan Yuan and Zhonggong, respectively. The passage’s full translation is as follows: Yan Yüan [Yuan in Pinyin] asked about humanity [ren]. Confucius said, “To master oneself and return to propriety [li] is humanity. . . .” Confucius said, “Do not look at what is contrary to propriety, do not listen to what is contrary to propriety, do not speak what is contrary to propriety, and do not make any movement which is contrary to propriety.” Yan Yuan said, “Although I am not intelligent, may I put your saying into practice?” Chung-kung [Zhonggong] asked about humanity. Confucius said, “Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you. Then there will be no complaint against you in the state or in the family.”



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Chung-kung said, “Although I am not intelligent, may I put your saying into practice?” (Chan 1963b, 38–39; see also Lau 1979, 12; italics indicate the sentence quoted by T’oegye) T’oegye frequently quoted Yan Yuan in his other letters and essays; for example, see the middle part of Chasŏngnok 7, including nn. 90 and 92, where T’oegye articulates the same doctrine. 207. Here T’oegye intends to oppose the Daoist teaching of wuwei (non-action) and quietism from a Confucian perspective, although he does not indicate so specifically. In general, Laozi and Zhuangzi argued that the Daoist way of sagehood is a natural course of action seeking “utmost freedom” and “utmost happiness” by detaching oneself from all worldly things, logical ideas, and ordinary values. As far as their metaphoric and mystical thinking is concerned, the Daoist sage lives like “uncarved wood,” “water,” “a happy fish,” etc.; she or he is “natural,” “empty,” “content,” “delighted,” and “happy.” In mentioning the metaphor of “fireless wood,” which originates from the Zhuangzi, T’oegye also opposes its Daoist spirituality. For Zhuangzi, language is inadequate to describe the Way because a true sage enjoys “perfect detachment” by “forgetting the self,” and his mind is like the stillness of “water” or the selfless naturalness and freedom of “extinguished ash.” T’oegye criticizes Zhuangzi in his other letters; for example, see Chasŏngnok 7, n. 97. Furthermore, T’oegye defended the Confucian orthodoxy by harshly criticizing the Buddha’s teaching of annihilation and nirvana as false or useless. See his other letters; e.g., Chasŏngnok 8, n. 119. 208. T’oegye occasionally mentions Yanpang (Li Tong) in his other letters and essays: e.g., Chasŏngnok 6 and 11 and nn. 82 and 159. For Li’s brief biography, see Chan 1963b, 588, and 1986a; de Bary 1981; Gardner 1990, 4. For my discussion of Li’s influence on T’oegye’s quiet sitting and mind cultivation, see Chung 1995b; I discuss the same topic, including spiritual cultivation, in Chung 2004. 209. Heaven’s principle and human cravings are frequently discussed in T’oegye’s other works, including the Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211). I also discuss his religious ethics regarding heaven’s principle, selfish cravings, and Confucian spirituality in Chung 2004, 2010a, 2011b. 210. Lieh Tzu was a Daoist thinker in classical China prior to Zhuangzi’s time. His name and metaphoric stories about his spiritual practice are often mentioned in the Zhuangzi: chaps. 1 (“Free and Easy Wandering”), 7 (“Fit for Emperors and Kings”), 18 (“Supreme Happiness”), and 19 (“Mastering Life”); see Watson 1964, 26, 92–94, 116–17, 119. Although T’oegye was not highly knowledgeable about Daoism, he frequently defended Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism by harshly condemning Daoist and Buddhist doctrines, including, in this paragraph, Zhuang’s Daoist teaching of zuowang (forgetting in sitting; having no thoughts) and mystical practice. In his other major letters, T’oegye mentions the same point; e.g., see Chasŏngnok 7, n. 97. For good translations and other readings of Zhuangzi and Liezi, see Chan 1963b, Graham 1990, Watson 1964, Wong 2001.

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211.  T’oegye also followed Cheng Yi’s critique of Zhuangzi’s practice of “forgetting in sitting.” I comment on this issue extensively in Chasŏngnok 7, n. 97. 212. T’oegye is quoting the Cheng brothers, although he does not specify the textual source; see Yishu 18:5b and 18:6b (as well as 2A:23b, 15:9a, and 15:11a). This is similarly quoted in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, secs. 9, 14–16, 18, 25, 36, 38, 44, 47–49, where Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi emphasize that “self-cultivation requires seriousness [reverence]” “for entering the Way”; see also ZZWJ 4:29a (Chan 1963b, 601). For Zhu’s discussion of reverence, see ZZYL 44:28b, 62:31b–32a, 94:20a, 96:1a–4a. See n. 186 above for more comments on these sources. I also discuss this topic under “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” in my introduction. 213. T’oegye does not indicate the source of this saying, but it is likely paraphrased according to what Cheng Hao himself said. See Er-Cheng quanshu 3:2a: “When I practice calligraphy, I am very serious (jing; reverential). My objective is not that calligraphy must be good. Rather my practice is the way of moral training” (Chan 1963b, 535). The same passage also appears in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 4, sec. 22 (Chan 1967, 133). 214. T’oegye is quoting Mencius 2A:2 indirectly. The full passage highlights Mencius’ teaching of rightness and its practice of daily mind cultivation, as cited in n. 202 above. 215. By simbŏp/xinfa (method of the mind), T’oegye basically means the way of mind cultivation (simhak/xinxue), a very important theme in his philosophy, along with reverence and sagely learning. As I discuss in my introduction in the sections on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation,” T’oegye used both terms interchangeably in his system of metaphysics, ethics, and spirituality. His study and experience of simhak are also discussed in other letters included in the Chasŏngnok; e.g., see Chasŏngnok 11, n. 147. Furthermore, T’oegye articulated it in his Four-Seven letters; Sŏnghak sipto (particularly chap. 8); Simhak to (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208; Kalton 1988, 160–164, and chap. 6); and Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (TC 7:23a; vol. 1, 205; Kalton 1988, 120–127). I also discuss T’oegye’s simhak, including these diagrams, in Chung 2004 and 1995a, 124–138, 172–175. 216. As I have noted already, the idea of reverence is frequently emphasized in T’oegye’s writing, including many letters in the Chasŏngnok, because of its vital significance in his body of thought. For my commentary and published works on this topic, see n. 186 above. 217. T’oegye is certainly referring here to Zhu Xi’s Daxue huowen (Answers to questions [on the Great Learning]), although as usual he does not provide the text’s full title. This was a popular text among Korean scholars, including T’oegye, because it consists of Zhu’s comments on the Great Learning and his answers to the key questions regarding learning and self-cultivation, a topic that is discussed in the Great Learning. 218.  I have already noted that T’oegye as a master-mentor often used a polite style in his letters to his disciples, an example of which is his use in this sentence of the literary title sŏnsaeng (sir, scholar) in addressing his disciples.



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219.  What is being partially referred to here is a famous section in the Analects (12:1–2) that describes Confucius’ teaching of human-heartedness to his disciple Zhonggong (Jan Yong’s courtesy name) as follows: . . . . Chung-kung (Zhonggong in Pinyin) asked about humanity. Confucius said, “When you go abroad (out), behave to everyone as if you were receiving a great guest. Employ the people as if you were assisting at a great sacrifice. Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you. Then there will be no complaint against you in the state or in the family.” Chungkung (Zhonggong) said, “Although I am not intelligent, may I put your saying into practice?” (Chan 1963b, 38–39; see also Lau 1979, 112; italicized sentence is T’oegye’s paraphrase) See n. 206 above for T’oegye’s indirect quote of the last part of this passage 220. T’oegye does not specify the textual sources of this abbreviated quotation, but it originates in Analects 14:46, which reads: “Yüan Jang [Yuan Rang] sat waiting [for Confucius] with his legs spread wide. The Master said, ‘To be neither modest nor deferential when young, to have passed on nothing worthwhile when grown up, and to refuse to die when old that is what I call a pest.’ So saying the Master tapped him on the shin with his stick” (Lau 1979, 131). 221. Here T’oegye’s criticism of “Zhuang Zhou’s destruction of [Confucian] ritual propriety” is associated with Zhuangzi’s teaching of “utmost freedom.” In other words, a Daoist sage delights in “perfect detachment” by “forgetting the self.” A key metaphor of this ideal is the story T’oegye references where Zhuang suddenly became extremely happy in front of his dead wife: Zhuangzi’s wife died. When Hui Tzu went to convey his condolence, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, pounding on a tub and singing. “You lived with her. She brought up your children and grew old,” said Hui tzu. “It should be enough simply not to weep at her death. But pounding on a tub and singing—this is going too far, isn’t it?” Zhuangzi said, “You’re wrong. When she first died, do you think I didn’t grieve like anyone else? But I looked back to her beginning and the time before she was born. Not only the time before she was born, but the time before she had a body. Not only the time before she had a body, but the time before she had a spirit. . . . Now there’s been another change and she’s dead. It’s just like the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter. . . . If we were to follow after her bawling and sobbing, it would show that I don’t understand anything about fate. So I stopped.” (Zhuangzi, chap. 18 [“Supreme Happiness”]; Watson 1964, 113) T’oegye meant to condemn the implication of this story for damaging the Confucian tradition of ritual propriety. Regarding the Daoist side of the story, however,

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Zhuangzi, a mystic, is said to have emphasized the oneness of all phenomena and the eternal Dao by transcending the difference between life and death, and so on. T’oegye also criticized his zuowang (forgetting in sitting, having no thoughts) and its mystical practice; for more on this, see nn. 187 and 210 above, as well as the middle of Chasŏngnok 7, esp. n. 97. 222. T’oegye is likely citing a famous passage from Analects 15:20: “Confucius said, ‘The cultivated person seeks [virtue] within himself; the inferior person seeks it in others’ ” (see also Chan 1963b, 43, or Lau 1979, 135). 223. T’oegye is likely citing a famous passage from the Doctrine of the Mean, sec. 14, according to which “He [the cultivated person] rectifies himself and seeks nothing from others, hence he has no complaint to make. He does not complain against Heaven above or blame men below. . . . Confucius said, ‘When the archer misses the center of the target, he turns around and seeks for the cause of failure within himself’ ” (Chan 1963b, 102; italics indicate T’oegyo’s quote). 224. Although T’oegye does not document this saying specifically, it is certain that he is partially quoting Analects 14:31: “Zigong was asked to compare people. Confucius said, ‘How superior Si is! For my part, I have no time for such things.’ ” 225. Analects 4:17, according to which Confucius emphasized, “When you meet a worthy person, think to become his equal. When you meet an unworthy person, think to look within and examine your own self” (see also Lau 1979, 74). 226. Analects 5:27: “Finally, I give up hope. I have yet to meet anyone who rebukes himself after realizing his fault” (see also Lau 1979, 80). 227. I could not trace the textual source of Zhu’s saying here (quoted by Kim Tonsŏ and T’oegye above). 228. Yuezheng Zichun (family name Yuezheng) was Zengzi’s close disciple who is also mentioned as Yuezheng Zi in Mencius, 1B:16, 4A:24–25, 6B:13, and 7B:25. However, because Yuezheng’s saying, quoted by T’oegye’s disciple Kim Tonsŏ, does not actually appear in the Mencius, I was unable to trace its textual source. 229. T’oegye is referring to the Xi ming compiled by Zhang Zai (1020–1073), a Song Chinese Neo-Confucian. This famous text originally appears as chap. 17 in the Zhengmeng (Correcting youthful ignorance), Zhangzi quanshu. For more on this, see Chan 1963b, 495–500. 230.  T’oegye is partially quoting the Western Inscription’s poetic opening lines where Zhang Zai emphasized the oneness of the human and the universe through a cosmological and mystical union.

Heaven is my father and Earth is my mother, and even such a small creature as I find an intimate place in their midst. Therefore that which fills the universe I regard as my body and that which directs the universe I consider as my nature. All people are my brothers and sisters, and all things are my companions. (Chan 1963b, 497)



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In other words, the true human being is best understood in terms of the network of connections between the self and the universe. The contemporary significance of this poem is its ecological view of the “anthropocosmic self” (Tu 1989): human beings form a triad with heaven and earth that underlies our interconnectedness to all reality. Overall, Zhang’s Western Inscription emphasizes respect for human beings as well as respect for nature. 231. For T’oegye, this is about Zhu Xi’s commentary on Chang’s Western Inscription. See Chan 1963b, 499–500. 232. Mozi (fl. 479–438 BCE) was a popular thinker and a contemporary rival of Confucius in classical China. He emphasized the moral principle of righteousness and related it to the will of heaven that determines everything. In particular, Mo addressed a “utilitarian” doctrine of integrated love by emphasizing that one should love others without making any familial or social distinctions. In this regard, it is in direct contrast to the Confucian doctrine of human-heartedness or love that engages with the basic family and social relations. For Mo’s life and thought, see Chan 1963b, 211–217. T’oegye meant to criticize Mozi’s teaching in defense of the Confucian doctrine. 233. Although T’oegye does not specify which Cheng brother (Hao or Yi) here, he likely means the younger, Cheng Yi, because the Song Neo-Confucian doctrine of the “investigation of things” is mainly attributed to him. Its locus classicus is the opening section of the Great Learning. For current literature on the Cheng-Zhu interpretation of this topic, see Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12. T’oegye discusses the “investigation of things” in several other Chasŏngnok letters, as well as in his major writings; for details, see n. 12. 234. As shown here, the problem of “quick success” or the defect of “taking a shortcut” is frequently criticized by T’oegye. For example, he admonishes his disciple Chŏng Chajung several times that he should cultivate learning properly as a lifelong pursuit. This is why T’oegye writes Chŏng in Chasŏngnok 10 that one must transcend the defect of seeking after learning too quickly; see n. 128 as well. See also Chasŏngnok 11, esp. nn. 143–144. 235. In typical fashion, T’oegye shows himself to be a caring mentor and a man of exemplary humility. Most of his letters are embued with this pedagogical style, including those in the Chasŏngnok: T’oegye humbles himself to Kwŏn Homun (see n. 184) by affirming his “failure to complete self-cultivation”; this was intended to encourage his disciples to pursue the true way of learning. See also Chasŏngnok 9 and 10, nn. 121 and 133, respectively. He often used such language in communicating with his disciples; see also nn. 218 and 134 above for further illustrations of his modest scholarly character and cultivated wisdom. 236. This quotation is from Yanping’s well-known work Yanping dawen. See also Chasŏngnok 2 and 11, nn. 25 and 159, respectively. 237. The locus classicus of this frequently quoted phrase in the Neo-Confucian literature is the Book of Rites, “Meaning of Sacrifices”; see Legge’s translation (1970, 2:216). 238.  What T’oegye had in mind here was to interpret Cheng Yi’s and Zhu Xi’s

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teaching of “concentrating on one thing . . . in order to rectify the self internally” (Yishu 15:1a, 15:6b; also in Zhu’s Jinsi lu; Chan 1967, 142–143). Its related teaching, “be watchful over the external life,” concurs with Zhu’s interpretation of Cheng Yi as follows: “Be correct in movement and appearance; be orderly in thinking and deliberating. In this way, the body and mind will be reverent, and the internal and external will be united” (ZZQS 2:22a–b; see also Chan 1963b, 607). In Korea, T’oegye articulated the same topic in Chasŏngnok 11, par. 6. For my comments on this doctrine and T’oegye’s interpretation, see also Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 87–89. 239. As he did in his other writings, T’oegye intended here to emphasize the Mencian and Cheng-Zhu teaching of mind cultivation—“preserve the mind-andheart and nourish human nature”— which also justifies “the original goodness of human nature,” “the innate mind-and-heart,” or “the beginnings of virtue.” This teaching was frequently cited by the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi as well the Korean thinker T’oegye. It was discussed also in terms of “holding it and preserving it.” For more comments on this doctrine and T’oegye’s interpretationt, see the “T’oegye on Human Nature” and “Emotions and Self-Cultivation” sections of my introduction; see also Chasŏngnok 7 and 10, esp. nn. 94 and 132, respectively. For more on this topic concerning self-cultivation and sagehood, see Chung 1995b and 2009. 240. Regarding the Song doctrine of the “investigation of principles” as well as its locus classicus, see n. 233 above or Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12. 241.  I could not trace the textual source of this statement as quoted by T’oegye. It could be in one of Zhu’s critical reviews of Buddhism and Daoism; for this topic, see ZZQS 60:12b–32a (a translation of which is in Chan 1963b, 646–653) and Jinsi lu, chap. 13 (“Sifting the Heterodoxical Doctrines”) in Chan 1967, 279–288. 242. The ending phrase “sitting on your heels” could also be translated as “sitting with your legs folded underneath you.” This kind of sitting is better known in the West by its Japanese pronunciation, “seiza posture.” I am indebted to Robert Buswell for this information. 243. The Elementary Leaerning (Xiaoxue) was a text compiled by Zhu Xi for beginners. 244.  The teaching “be solemn and austere,” which was frequently mentioned by T’oegye and other Neo-Confucians (such as Zhu Xi), originates in the Book of Rites, “Meaning of Sacrifices”; see Legge 1970, 2:216. T’oegye’s serious attention to this phrase and the related teaching “be orderly and dignified” is certainly associated with Yishu 15:6b, where Cheng Yi said, “Be orderly and dignified and be solemn and austere. In this way, the mind-and-heart becomes one. . . . If one can cultivate oneself in this way for a long time, heaven’s principle will become clear” (see also Chan 1963b, 555). This statement is also included in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu (Chan 1967, 142; see also ZZQS 2:22a–b; or Chan’s translation, 1963a, 607). T’oegye was very familiar with Zhu’s interpretation as well, as indicated in his letter to Chŏng Chajung and in his other works. For related points, see n. 238 above. 245. In this paragraph, T’oegye basically means the Song Neo-Confucian method of quiet sitting (chŏngjwa/jingzuo). See n. 208 to this letter (Chasŏngnok 11),



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which also mentions T’oegye’s practice of quiet sitting and spiritual cultivation in connection to Li Tong (Yanping), Zhu Xi’s teacher. Contemplative discipline was indeed an important part of T’oegye’s interpretation of mind cultivation and Neo-Confucian spirituality, a topic that is covered in his Chasŏngnok; e.g., see nn. 95, 147, and 208. He knew that quiet sitting alone was not the sole choice of the Zhu Xi school in China. In the Song and Ming Neo-Confucian schools, quiet sitting generated different perspectives in opposition to the Daoist and Buddhist methods of meditation (consult Taylor 1991). In Korea T’oegye used it in his effort to transcend distracting thoughts and emotions; he found it useful as a way to “experience inner tranquility and peace” (cited in the Ŏnhaengnok [Collected record of T’oegye’s words and acts], TC 1:23a; vol. 4, 180). T’oegye therefore recommended quiet sitting in addition to the rational study of books and doctrines. I discuss this topic in Chung 2004 and 2010a. 246. Referring to Zhu Xi’s “explanation of kneeling in sitting” (guizuo shuo). 247. The locus classicus of this sentence is the Book of Rites, according to which a little boy of the family was asked to sit down properly and silently at the middle of the front side of an ancestral or funeral rite. In ancient China (as well as Korea), this religious custom was occasionally practiced instead of using an ancestral tablet, with the belief that the ritual child could serve as a religious “intermediary” between an ancestral spirit and his living family. Probably upon his disciple Tonsŏ’s question in connection to Zhu Xi’s explanation (guizuo shuo), T’oegye meant the ritual boy’s “orderly, dignified, and reverential” sitting as something compatible with a proper way of sitting for mind cultivation. I also discuss the Korean Confucian tradition of ancestral rites in Chung 1998a and 2006. 248. T’oegye does not specify the source of this saying, but he is probably quoting Analects 10:16: “When Confucius was alone by himself, he did not sit in the formal manner as his guests did” (see also Lau 1979, 104; note that Lau cites the passage as Analects 10:24). In regard to “the explanation of. . . . part of the footnote,” T’oegye is probably referring to a relevant footnote on the same description of Confucius in Zhu Xi’s Lunyu jizhu. 249. The Ni Mountain referred to here was located in the state of Qi; it is now known as Ni Qiu Mountain and is in the modern province of Shandong. It is said that Yan Zhengzai prayed there, and her genuine wish was to bear a son (i.e., Confucius). Furthermore, Confucius’ given name, Qiu, originates from the second character (Qiu) of the name of this mountain. 250. Shuliang He was Confucius’ father, Kung He (family name Kung; given name He). T’oegye likely mentions this name in response to his disciple’s question about the birth of Confucius. 251. According to Sima Qian’s Shi ji (Records of the grand historian), Confucius was born of this “illicit” union (i.e., without a formal marriage) between Kung He (Shuliang He) and Yan Zhengzai. 252. Qianlou was a Chinese man in the Liang state, which lasted from the year 502 to 557 during the Southern and Northern dynasties period (420–589), an age of civil war and political chaos when Mahayana Buddhism and Daoism began

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to grow. According to the Liang state section in the history of the Southern dynasties (Nan shi), this filial son sincerely prayed to the North Stars (Big Dipper) to heal his sick father and extend his life. 253. What T’oegye, a Confucian thinker, seems to emphasize here is the moral and spiritual meaning of filial piety that could have helped in curing Qianlou’s sick father. In other words, T’oegye does not accept the Buddhist or Daoist belief that Qianlou’s prayer inspired some divine power that might have intervened in curing his father. 254. T’oegye does not specify the source of this story about Confucius and prayer, but he might have been referring to Analects 7:34, which reads, When the Master [Confucius] was very ill, Zilu asked that a prayer be offered. The Master said, “Is there such a thing?” Zilu replied, “Yes, there is. The prayer offered says, ‘Pray thus to the gods above and below.’ ” The Master then said, “My prayer has been for a long time” [i.e., I was more concerned with the world of here and now]. (See also Lau 1979, 91; note that Lau cites Analects 7:35 as the source.) Regarding “the Jizhu,” T’oegye likely means the Neo-Confucian interpretation of it in Zhu Xi’s Lunyu jizhu. 255. Here T’oegye wants to advise his disciple Kim Tonsŏ again to properly understand and practice what he, T’oegye, considers to be the most important part of Confucian learning, namely, the moral-spiritual cultivation of reverence. This is a major topic that frequently appears in most of his books, essays, poems, and letters (including those in the Chasŏngnok). For my further commentary, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 186. 256. Zhuzi daquan 62:34a. By quoting Zhu Xi here, T’oegye is advising his disciple not to manipulate his learning for any quick result. As T’oegye frequently emphasized to his other disciples, any kind of “manipulation” is a serious flaw and is found among many Confucians who fail to cultivate themselves morally and spiritually. For example, he warned Chŏng Chajung about the “defect” of neglecting self-cultivation as follows: “taking a shortcut,” “seeking [a quick result] without self-cultivation,” and selfish “manipulating.” For more comments, see Chasŏngnok 11, n. 144, and Chasŏngnok 12, n. 182. In the same quoted text, T’oegye also meant Confucius’ teaching of controlling the mind-and-heart as quoted by Mencius: “Confucius said, ‘Hold onto it and it will remain; let go of it and it will disappear” (Mencius 6A:8; the sentence quoted by T’oegye is italicized). So Mencius emphasized it in relation to his key doctrine of “preserving the mind-and-heart and nourishing human nature,” which was frequently interpreted by Korean NeoConfucians such as T’oegye; e.g., see Chasŏngnok 7 and 10, esp. nn. 94 and 132, respectively. 257. Sukhŏn is the courtesy name of Yi I (1536–1584), who is best known traditionally and internationally by his literary name, Yulgok. He was an eminent thinker-scholar who contributed greatly to the development of Korean Neo-Con-



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fucianism. Although thirty-five years younger than T’oegye, he had sufficient opportunity to discuss Neo-Confucian thought with T’oegye, including about such topics as “the investigation of principles,” “abiding in reverence,” mind cultivation, and sagehood. After visiting the senior scholar in 1558, Yulgok sent T’oegye a letter of thanks that included a good deal of personal reflection and philosophical analysis. T’oegye replied to this letter by giving a number of thoughtful recommendations and opinions. For more comments, see the end of the section on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” in my introduction. For the current literature on Yulgok’s life and thought, see Ro 1989; Ching’s article on Yulgok in de Bary and Haboush 1985; Chung 1995b (a comparative study of T’oegye and Yulgok) and 1998b. 258. As usual with his communication with disciples and other young scholars, T’oegye’s letter to Yulgok is modest and polite. He not only uses his given name, Hwang, in referring to himself, but also adds the self-effacing statement that only a few students want to study at his famous Tosan Academy, despite the fact that he taught many outstanding disciples there. For my other comments on this matter, see also Chasŏngnok 13, n. 235, as well as Chasŏngnok 9, n. 121. 259. As T’oegye does in his other letters to disciples (e.g., Chŏng Chajung), he emphasizes here this doctrine with “abiding in reverence.” For more comments on the Song teaching of “investigating principles” and T’oegye’s interpretation of it, see Chasŏngnok 1 and 13, nn. 12 and 233, respectively. 260. T’oegye also wanted to advise Yulgok to practice sincerely what he considers to be the most important part of Confucian life, namely, the moral-spiritual cultivation of reverence. This is a major topic that frequently appears in his books, essays, poems, and letters (including the Chasŏngnok). For further comments and published works on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 186. For a detailed discussion of this topic, see the section on “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” in my introduction. 261. The “big trend” he refers to here is Daoist and Buddhist influence in early Song China. It is not surprising for T’oegye to have advised Yulgok that even those great Neo-Confucians such as Cheng Hao and Zhu Xi were initially attracted to Buddhist or Daoist studies, but they all criticized Buddhism and Daoism by defending the Confucian way of self-cultivation and its implications for learning and social ethics. For the current literature on Buddhist and Daoist influence on Song Neo-Confucianism as well as Song thinkers’ criticisms of Buddhism or Daoism, see, for example, Chan 1967, 1986a; de Bary 1981, 1989; Gardner 1990; Ching 1993, 2000; Taylor 1991. Furthermore, in some letters T’oegye criticized the Buddha’s teaching of karma and samsara. For example, see Chasŏngnok 8, n. 119. For my detailed discussion of this topic, see the section on “Against Buddhism and Daoism” in my introduction. 262. T’oegye is referring to the fact that Yulgok’s initial shortcoming in learning was due to his previous study of Buddhism (esp. Zen and Hua-yen sutras), as Yulgok told the senior scholar and also confessed in some of his own essays and letters. So it seems that although T’oegye encouraged Yulgok’s high talent and

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scholarship, he had to criticize the latter’s study of Buddhism while recognizing that Yulgok fortunately overcame his earlier interest in Buddhism. For the current literature on Yulgok’s life and thought, see n. 257 above. 263. By the Collected Commentaries (Zhangju), T’oegye obviously means its longer title, Collected Commentaries on the Great Learning (Daxue zhangju); he also uses another shortened title, Answers to Questions (Huowen), referring to the Answers to Questions on the Great Learning (Daxue huowen). Both of these texts were compiled by Zhu Xi. Note that the Daxue huowen was a particularly popular text with T’oegye and other scholars in Korea because it contains Zhu’s and others’ helpful comments on the Great Learning and certain answers to the key questions about the Confucian way of learning and self-cultivation. 264. Here, there is no doubt about T’oegye’s emphasis on the practice and experience of self-cultivation, as far as his moral-spiritual advice to his disciples and others is concerned. This is what he liked to talk about in his major works, including the Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430), Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211), and other essays, which I discuss elsewhere (Chung 1995b, 2004). See Kalton 1988 for the Sŏnghak sipto. 265. T’oegye here emphasizes the same point he made to his disciples such as Kim Tonsŏ and Chŏng Chajung: that nobody should avoid true practice and experience and instead selfishly seek a shortcut to success in learning and selfcultivation. In his major writings, T’oegye frequently articulates the problem of “quick success” or the defect of “taking a shortcut.” For details, see Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 234 and 256. 266. For my detailed commentary on T’oegye’s philosophy and spirituality of reverence, see n. 260 above. 267.  T’oegye here again refers to himself in the third person to express caring and polite humility to Yulgok. 268. This is likely based on Confucius’ saying about his students’ diligent and sincere learning. T’oegye indirectly and partially quotes Analects 7:8, which reads: “I do not enlighten those who are not enthusiastic to learn; nor do I tell those who are not carefully anxious to explain themselves” (see also Chan 1963b, 31). 269. As usual T’oegye does not specify the locus classicus of this sentence, but it comes from the Great Learning, chap. 1, which reads as follows: Only after knowing what to abide in can one be calm. Only having been calm can one can be tranquil. Only after having achieved tranquility can one have peaceful repose. Only having peaceful repose can one begin to deliberate. Only after deliberation can the end be attained. (Chan 1963a, 86; sentence quoted by T’oegye is italicized) For further comments on Confucius’ disciple Yanzi, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 206. 270. T’oegye here seems to be partially citing this idea as found in Mencius 4A:10: “It is useless to talk to those who do violence to their own nature, and it is useless to do anything with those who throw themselves away. To speak what is



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against propriety and righteousness is to do violence to oneself. To say that one cannot abide by humanity and follow righteousness is to throw oneself away” (Chan 1963b, 74; words quoted words T’oegye are italicized; see also Lau 1970, 122). 271. The sentence “preserve [the mind-and-heart] and nourish [nature]” is a major Cheng-Zhu doctrine emphasized by T’oegye. For my further comments, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 239. 272. T’oegye probably intended to criticize the basic Buddhist doctrine of emptiness, given the fact that Yulgok had previously studied Buddhism. So it is not surprising here for T’oegye to give Yulgok such advice; the former’s other essays and letters also criticized the Buddha’s teaching of karma and samsara. For my other comments, see n. 261 above. 273. For my detailed commentary on T’oegye’s renowned philosophy and spirituality of reverence, see n. 260 above as well as Chasŏngnok 13, n. 186. 274. For details on Yanping, including Li’s influence on T’oegye’s thought, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 208. 275. By “Master Cheng” in this sentence, T’oegye likely means Cheng Yi because the Song doctrine on the “investigation of things” is mainly attributed to the younger of the two Cheng brothers. For my detailed commentary on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 233. 276. Zhao Gean (d.u.) is the literary name of a Song Chinese thinker whose given name was Shunsun. He supported both Li Tong (Yanping) and Cheng Yi on the investigation of principles by saying that their views are equally meaningful although their theories represent two different contexts. 277. Referring to Hu Bingwen, a Chinese scholar. 278. The locus classicus of this Confucian theory about “arrogant and lazy” people is the Great Learning, sec. 8, where self-cultivation is explained as the foundation of family regulation: Human beings are partial toward those to whom they feel affectionate and whom they love. They are partial toward those whom they despise and dislike. . . . They are partial toward those who are arrogant and lazy. Therefore, in the world there are only a few people who know what is bad in those who are loved and what is good in those who are disliked. . . . This is why it is said that if the self is not cultivated, one cannot regulate one’s family.” (quoted words in italics; see also Chan 1963b, 90) 279. It is not clear which of Zhu’s commentaries T’oegye is actually citing here—probably in response to Yulgok’s query regarding Ho’s theory—and I was not able to trace the textual source. 280.  T’oegye did not specify the source of these two short quotations. But the former phrase, “took his lute,” is from Analects 17:20, the full text of which reads: “Ju Pei (Ru Bei in Pinyin) wanted to see Confucius. Confucius declined to see him on the grounds of illness. As soon as the man conveying the message had stepped out the door, Confucius took his lute and sang, making sure that he heard it” (Lau

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1979, 146–147). Lau notes that according to the Book of Rites, Ru Bei was asked by Duke Ai of Lü to make a visit to Confucius for his instructions on funeral rites. The latter phrase, “leaning against the low table,” is found in Mencius 2B:11, according to which “Mencius left (the state of) Qi and on his way to put up at Zhou. There was a man who wished to persuade Mencius to stay on behalf of the King. He sat upright and began to speak. Mencius made no reply and lay down, leaning against the low table” (Lau 1970, 93). 281. Wengong refers to Sima Guang (1019–1086), an outstanding historian and statesman in the Song period who held top imperial positions. He presented to the emperor the Linyian tu (Diagram of successive years), a five-volume work that summarizes China’s historical events from 403 BCE to CE 959. In 1067 the emperor welcomed Sima’s best work, Zizhi tongjian (Comprehensive mirror to aid in government). For Sima’s biography, see the Song Yuan xuean (A record of Confucian scholars in the Song and Yuan dynasties), chaps. 7–8, and Song shi 336:1a–15b; see also Chan 1967, 131, n. 44, for a brief biography. 282. Probably in response to Yulgok’s views, T’oegye is referring to the investigation of things, a major Cheng-Zhu doctrine that developed out of the Great Learning’s classical teaching. For more detailed comments on this topic and T’oegye’s interpretation of it, see Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12, and Chasŏngnok 13, n. 233. 283. Indirectly quoting Confucius’ saying in Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 8; translation by Chan 1963b, 99. 284. This statement is from Analects 8:17 (see also Lau 1979, 94), although T’oegye, as usual, does not document its textual source. 285.  Shangcai (1050–1103) was Xie Liangzuo’s courtesy name. He was Cheng Yi’s disciple and also known for his commentary on the Analects. 286.  The reference is to the ancient practice of partially sacrificing one’s body to cure one’s parent’s disease. 287. Chunggŏ (1517–1563) was Hwang Chullyang’s courtesy name. He had a regional official position and was also one of T’oegye’s leading disciples, who liked to study extensively Zhu Xi’s philosophical letters and the Jinsi lu. 288. The White Deer Grotto (Paengnoktong/Boludong), now located in Kiangxi province, China, is where Zhu Xi reestablished and strengthened the famous Boludong Academy. His lectures there attracted many famous and promising scholars of that time, and he wrote the Boludong gui (K. Paengnoktonggyu; White Deer Grotto Academy’s rules) as an educational and moral guide for his students. 289. The literary name of the Korean scholar Pak Yŏng (1471–1540) was Songdang. He had an official government position in a regional area and, as indicated by T’oegye, he studied Zhu’s Bolutong gui and compiled his commentary on it, entitling it Paengnoktonggyu chiphae. 290. The locus classicus of this saying is Dong Zhongshu (179–104 BCE) as recorded in Han shu (History of the Han dynasty) 56:21b. Dong was the former Han dynasty’s leading Confucian, who wrote commentaries on two of the Five Classics, the Book of Changes and the Annals of Spring and Autumn; he also helped Han China to establish Confucianism as its state religion and ideology, which



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later influenced Confucian orthodoxy. For a good biography of Dong as well as its accompanying discussion of his Chunqiu fanlu (Luxuriant gems of the Annals of Spring and Autumn), see Chan 1963b, 271–273, and 1967, 57. This famous saying by Dong was also quoted in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu, chap. 2 (“The Essentials of Learning”), sec. 40: “Dong Zhongshu said, ‘Rectify moral principles and do not seek profit. Illuminate the Way and do not calculate results’ ” (Chan 1967, 57; quoted sentence is italicized). Following this quotation (and also included in Zhu’s ZZYL 95:35b), Zhu Xi directly added a question and his answer as follows: Someone asked, “To rectify moral principles means to handle things correctly without any idea of profit or advantage, and to illuminate the Way means to do so through handling things correctly without any idea of what may come later. . . . Is this interpretation correct?” Zhu Xi answered, “It is all right to say so. Basically, they are like the folding of one’s palms. But when you look at the matter, to a slight extent there must be an order of first and last.” It is highly likely that after reading Pak’s Paengnoktonggyu chiphae, T’oegye’s disciple initiated the discussion with his master about this and the other statements. They were also familiar with Dong’s same statement in the Jinsi lu, a popular and influential Neo-Confucian text in Korea. 291. Neo-Confucian thinkers often quoted this key statement from the Book of Changes, sec. 1, hexagram 1: Ch’ien, app. 4 (“Supplementary Commentary”), sec. 1 on Ch’ien 1:1. My translation here; according to Legge’s translation, the full text of this commentary reads as follows: What is called “the great and originating” is . . . the first and chief quality of goodness; what is called “the penetrating” is the assemblage of excellence; what is called “the advantageous” (i/li) is the harmony of all that is right (ŭi/yi); and what is called “the correct and firm” is the faculty of action. (1964, 408) Legge meaningfully translated the character i/li as “the advantageous” that may naturally result from following the moral principle of righteousness and fulfilling the harmonious unity of right things. 292. After reading Pak’s Paengnoktonggyu chiphae, T’oegye’s disciple Hwang probably discussed it in his first letter to his master, thereby asking this question about the contradictory meaning of the word “benefit” (i/li) between the two statements mentioned in Pak’s commentary: on the one hand, why Dong (in the first statement) apparently used it negatively as something that should be rejected or transcended by those cultivated people who follow the Way, and on the other hand, why the Yi jing (in the second sentence) used the same word “benefit” positively in explaining the first chien (heaven) hexagram in its supplementary commentary (app. 4, sec. 1; see Legge 1964, 408).

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293. In T’oegye’s view, Zhu Xi basically gave a meaningful interpretation of the Confucian doctrine of righteousness (i.e., moral principles) versus benefit (profit-making or personal gain). For Zhu as well as T’oegye, righteousness and benefit have to be understood properly because the former is based on moral “impartiality” (i.e., a virtuous life), whereas the latter easily leads to selfishness. In his edited Reflection on Things at Hand, Zhu supported that “to rectify moral principles (righteousness) is to handle things correctly without any idea of profit (i/li)” (Jinsi lu, chap. 2, sec. 40; Chan’s translation, 1967, 57; see also n. 290 above for the full version of this passage). Zhu also explained the same issue as follows: What is there to be learned? Although devotion to fame and devotion to profit (i/li) differ in the degree of impurity, their selfish motivation is the same. . . . [As Confucius said in Analects 6:20] “The man of humanity first of all considers what is difficult in the task and then thinks of success (gain).” If one acts with any calculation, he is thinking of success first of all. (Jinsi lu, 2:62, 64; Chan’s translation, 1967, 67; my interpolations in brackets) Although T’oegye did not quote Zhu directly here, the latter’s interpretation is articulated in the Jinsi lu. For example, it is said, The difference Mencius made between Shun (sage-emperor) and Zhi [robber] is purely that between righteousness [ŭi/yi] and profit [i/ li]. . . . The difference between righteousness and profit is only that between impartiality and selfishness. As soon as we depart from righteousness, we will be talking about profit. . . . The teacher said: It was not only profit in the sense of money. Any idea of profit to oneself is wrong. . . . To a sage, righteousness is profit. Whenever he is at ease with righteousness, there is profit for him. . . . Someone asked, “Master Cheng said that whenever a sage is at ease with righteousness, there is profit for him. The sage is at ease simply because he does what should be done. Is that correct?” Zhu Xi answered: “Yes. When everything fulfills its lot, there is profit. When the ruler attains to what it is to be a ruler. . . . and the son attains to what it is to be a son, what greater profit [i/li] is there?” (Jinsi lu, chap. 7:26, 28; Chan’s translation, 1967, 195–196) Here Zhu basically meant that self-cultivation is rooted in moral principles such as righteousness and should not be influenced by selfish personal profit. Zhu’s view of profit positively affirmed that when one (e.g., a sage) practices righteousness, profit naturally follows and that profit is therefore the “greater” result of fulfilling moral principles or human relationships. This is why the Korean thinker T’oegye appears to have accepted Zhu’s thinking, insofar as the former’s interpretation is presented in this reply letter to his disciple Hwang. 294. T’oegye likely quoted Confucius’ saying partially from Analects 6:20:



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“Fan Ch’ih (Chi) asked about benevolence (ren). The master said, ‘the benevolent person reaps the benefit (gain) only after overcoming difficulties. That can be called benevolence’ ” (see also Lau 1979, 84, or Chan 1963b, 30). Confucius (Analects 4:16) also mentioned the problem of benefit/profit in sharp contrast to the cultivated person’s righteousness (virtuous life): “The superior man understands righteousness (ŭi/yi); the inferior man understands profit (i/li)” (Chan 1963b, 28). 295. Partially quoting Mencius 1A:1, which reads: What is the point of mentioning the word ‘profit’ (i/li)? All that matters is that there should be benevolence and rightness. If your majesty says, “How can I profit my state?” and the Counsellor says, “How can I profit my family?” and the Gentlemen and Commoners say, “How can I profit my person” then those above and below will be trying to profit at the expense of one another and the state will be imperilled. . . . if profit is put before rightness, there is no satisfaction short of total usurpation . . . . (Lau 1970, 49; T’oegye’s quoted words are italicized) In other words, T’oegye affirmed that according to Mencius and Zhu Xi the cultivated wise person follows a moral life of virtue (ren) and rightness (yi), whereas the selfish/inferior person cares more about making personal or material profit. This concurs with Confucius’ teaching as indicated in Analects 4:16 and 6:20 (for these quotations, see n. 294 above). 296. Partially quoting Mencius 7B:33, which reads as follows: To be in accord with the rites in every movement is the highest of virtue. . . . When one follows unswervingly the path of virtue it is not to win advancement. . . . When one invariably keeps one’s words it is not to establish the idea of rectitude of one’s actions. A gentleman merely follows the norm and awaits his destiny. (Lau 1970, 201) As I pointed out in other of my annotations, T’oegye’s intended interpretation of this statement about the cultivated person’s dedication to moral principles is quite consistent with the other quotations T’oegye made from the Mencius, Analects, and Jinsi lu. 297. The locus classicus of this famous statement about “one single thread” is Analects 4:15: Confucius said, “Shen, there is one thread that runs through my doctrines.” Tseng Tzu [Zengzi in Pinyin; given name Shen] said, “Yes.” After Confucius had left, the disciples asked him, “What did he mean?” Tseng Tzu replied, “The Way of our master is none other than conscientiousness (chung) and altruism (shu).” (Chan 1963b, 27; see also Lau 1979, 74) I should also note that Analects 15:2 makes a similar point about Confucius’ way.

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Notes to Pages 109–110 Confucius said, “Tz’u, do you suppose that I am one who learns a great deal and remembers it?” Tzu-kung (Zigong in Pinyin) replied, “Yes, is that not true?” Confucius said, “No, I have a (single) thread that runs through it all. (Chan 1963b, 43; see also Lau 1979, 132)

The key phrase “one single thread” was likely cited by T’oegye because, as he says to Hwang, he noticed it at the back of Pak’s commentary on Zhu Xi’s White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules. Like Zhu Xi, T’oegye seems to have interpreted the meaning of “one single thread” as having one united mind in responding to all phenomena as well as maintaining one unifying moral principle of ren through conscientiousness and altruism. 298. This is what Confucius taught to his disciples. Although T’oegye did not specify, this statement comes from Analects 7:17: “What the Master instructed daily was none other than the Book of Poetry, Book of History, and practicing ritual propriety. He always spoke about this” (see also Lau 1979, 88). 299. Regarding Confucius’ teaching of “one single thread (binding all),” see n. 297 above. 300. The locus classicus of this quotation is the opening section in the Great Learning (as quoted in n. 301 below). For my detailed comments on the investigation of principles and things, see Chasŏngnok 1, n. 12; Chasŏngnok 13, n. 233; or Chasŏngnok 14, n. 282. 301. Indirectly and partially citing the same well-known passage from the Great Learning, which reads as follows: The ancients who wished to manifest their clear character to the world would first bring order to their states. Those who wished to bring order to their states would first regulate their families. Those who wished to regulate their families would first cultivate their personal lives. Those who wished to cultivate their personal lives would first rectify their minds. Those who wished to rectify their minds would first make their wills sincere. Those who wished to make their wills sincere would first extend their knowledge. The extension of knowledge consists in the investigation of things. (Chan 1963b, 86; sentences quoted by T’oegye are italicized) T’oegye frequently discussed this core teaching, which may be called the eightstep Confucian way of perfecting the world. As he indicates in Chasŏngnok 16, it begins with “the investigation of things” and continues through “the rectification of the mind,” “self-cultivation,” and “governing the state.” 302. For my brief commentary on Confucius’ disciple Yan Yuan (also known as Yanzi), see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 206. T’oegye also quotes Yanzi in his other letters; e.g., see the middle part of Chasŏngnok 7, including nn. 90 and 92, where T’oegye articulates the Confucian doctrine of propriety as well as that of human-heartedness. 303. This saying comes from Analects 14:37, although T’oegye does not specify its textual source.



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304. Partially quoting the opening chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean regarding its key teaching of “the unmanifested” (or before the arousal of feelings/emotions) and “the manifested” (or after arousal): “Before pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused, it is called equilibrium (chung/chung; centrality). After they are aroused and each and all attain due measure and degree, it is called harmony (hwa/ho). Equilibrium is the great foundation of the world, and harmony is its universal path” (see also Chan 1963b, 98). This doctrine was frequently discussed by Zhu Xi and others as well. For my comments, see Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 95 and 101. T’oegye also articulates the related doctrine that the mind “unites” and “commands” human nature as its substance and feelings and emotions as its function. For example, see his Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and Simhak to (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208); I discuss this topic in Chung 1995b and 2004. 305. Directly citing the opening lines of the first chapter in the Great Learning, according to which, “The Way of learning to be great consists of illuminating virtue, loving the people [or renovating the people], and maintaining the highest good. . . .” (italics indicate quoted words). Note that T’oegye uses the revised Cheng-Zhu version of this text that replaced the original phrase “loving the people” with “renovating the people.” For the third paragraph of the opening section of the Great Learning, see n. 301 above. 306. Partially quoting the second paragraph of the opening chapter in the Doctrine of the Mean: “Centrality is the great foundation of the world, and harmony is the universal way of the world” (see also Chan 1963b, 98). 307. Citing the Great Learning’s opening chapter for these two items; see n. 301 for the full version of this citation. 308.  The phrase “the universal way of the world” is quoted from the Doctrine of the Mean; see n. 306 above for the full sentence. 309.  Such as “family regulation,” “governing the state,” and “manifesting the illuminating virtue to the world.” T’oegye likely means these final aspects in the Way of great learning. See n. 301 above for this key passage, which comes from the opening chapter of the Great Learning. 310. Partially and indirectly quoting an interesting passage with a subtle mystical tone in Mencius 7A:25, which reads: “The desirable is called good. To have it in oneself is called ‘true.’ To possess it fully in oneself is called ‘beautiful,’ but to shine forth with this full possession is called ‘great.’ To be great and be transformed by this greatness is called ‘sage’; to be [a] sage and to transcend the understanding is called ‘divine’ ” (Lau’s translation 1970, 199; see also Chan 1963b, 82). 311. Partially quoting the teaching of “the sincere (true) self” in Mencius 4A:12: “There is a way for him to be true to himself (oneself). If he does not understand goodness he cannot be true to himself. Hence being true is the Way of Heaven; to reflect upon this is the Way of man. There has never been a man totally true to himself who fails to move others” (Lau 1970, 123). 312.  Here T’oegye is criticizing the teachings of Buddhism and Daoism while defending Confucian orthodoxy; see, e.g., the end of Chasŏngnok 8 and n. 119; see also Chasŏngnok 14, par. 3 and n. 261. I have briefly discussed a similar topic in

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Chung 1995b, 2004, and 2009. For T’oegye’s critique of Buddhism and Laozi’s Daoism, see the middle part of Chasŏngnok 13 and n. 207. T’oegye opposed the Daoist way of non-action (wuwei) and quietism especially by condemning Zhuangzi’s teaching of “forgetting the self”: see Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 187 and 210, as well as the last part of Chasŏngnok 7 and n. 97. I also discuss this topic in the “Against Buddhism and Daoism” section of my introduction. 313.  Donglai is Lü Zuqian (1137–1181). His courtesy name was Bogong, but he was better known by his honorific title, “Master Donglai,” Donglai being the name of his ancestral home (in what is today Shandong province). Lü was a leading Song scholar in the study of history as well as a great rival and friend of Zhu Xi. The two men worked together to compile the Jinsi lu (Reflections on things on hand), a NeoConfucian anthology. See Chan 1967, xxxix, for a good biography of Lü. 314. Wufeng (1105–1155) was Hu Hung’s literary name. He was a son of Hu Anguo (courtesy name Kanghou), a well-known scholar and professor at the national university in China. See also Chasŏngnok 11, n. 167. 315. Nanxuan (1133–1180) was Zhang Shi’s literary name; his courtesy name was Chinu. He was a disciple of Hu Wufeng. He was also a close colleague of Lü Zuqian, and Zhang and Lü were great companions to Zhu Xi in scholarly conversation and in compiling the Jinsi lu. Zhu, Lü, and Zhang were respected in Song China as “the Three Worthies of the Southeast.” 316. This sentence could also mean “benefit (i/li; profit) is in harmony with righteousness (ŭi/yi; that which is right).” Consult the first five paragraphs of Chasŏngnok 15, esp. nn. 291–296, for my discussion of the locus classicus of this statement, Confucian-Mencian views, and Zhu Xi’s and T’oegye’s interpretations. 317. The doctrine of “the moral mind” and “the human mind” is a key topic in T’oegye’s Four-Seven debate letters and his major essays such as Simhak to, the eighth diagram of his Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:29a; vol. 1, 208; Kalton 1988, 160–164). For details on the locus classicus of this teaching as well as T’oegye’s interpretations, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 205 . 318. T’oegye already made this statement in his first letter to Hwang (Chasŏngnok 15, par. 3). 319. Xishan, or Zhen Xishan, refers to Zhu’s leading follower Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235). His well-known Xinjing discusses Zhu Xi’s philosophy of the mind in terms of the moral mind and the human mind. A good discussion of Chen and the Xinjing is de Bary 1981, 73–82; see also Chan 1986a). Zhen’s Xinjing influenced T’oegye’s spiritual cultivation and religious thought, as he articulated this topic in his Four-Seven letters and Simhak to; I discuss this topic in the section on “T’oegye’s Life” in my introduction; see also Chung 1995b and 2004. 320. The doctrine of heaven’s principle versus human cravings often appears in T’oegye’s major essays and letters, including the Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8a–17:6b; vol. 1, 402–430) and Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7:4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211). See Chasŏngnok 1, n. 15, and the middle of Chasŏngnok 13. See also n. 205 for the Zhu Xi school’s doctrine of the moral mind and the human mind in term of heaven’s principle and human cravings; I discuss this topic in the sections on “T’oegye on Hu-



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man Nature and Emotions” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” in my introduction. This is a key topic of discussion in T’oegye’s religious system of ethics and spirituality, which I have discussed elsewhere (e.g., Chung 2009 and 2010a). 321. T’oegye made the same statement in the third paragraph in his first letter to Hwang Chunggŏ (Chasŏngnok 15). 322. This key teaching comes from the first paragraph of the opening chapter in the Great Learning; see also Chasŏngnok 15, n. 305, for the full text of this citation as well as my comments. 323. T’oegye is indirectly quoting Confucius’ teaching of “one single thread” from Analects 4:15 and 15:2. See Chasŏngnok 15, n. 297 for my discussion of this doctrine. 324. Although T’oegye does not indicate the source, he is quoting a few key words (italicized in the quoted passage below) from the beginning paragraph of the tenth chapter of commentary in the Great Learning, which articulates the way of “world peace through governing the state” as follows: “When the ruler treats compassionately the young and the helpless, the common people will not follow the opposite course. Therefore, the ruler has a principle (dao) with which, as with a measuring square, he may regulate his conduct. . . . This is the principle of the measuring square. . . . the ruler will first be watchful over his own virtue. If he has virtue, he will have the people with him. If he has the people with him, he will have the territory. If he has the territory, he will have wealth. And if he has wealth, he will have its use” (Chan 1963b, 86). 325. T’oegye basically means here the Confucian teaching of the five human relationships, including the ruler-subject and father-son (parents-children) relationships. 326. Zengzi (505–ca. 436 BCE) was a beloved disciple of Confucius. According to Zhu Xi, the original text in the Great Learning was Confucius’ teaching transmitted through Zengzi, and the ten “chapters of commentary” represent Zengzi’s views as recorded by his students. In quoting Zengzi, T’oegye probably had this tradition in mind. But it is worth noting that some scholars attribute the Great Learning to Zisi (492–431 BCE), Confucius’ grandson. T’oegye often praised Zengzi as his role model for being a true follower of Confucius; for details, see Chasŏngnok 7 and 11, esp. nn. 91 and 93 and nn. 142 and 161, respectively. 327. Partially using two key words from the beginning paragraph of the tenth chapter of commentary in the Great Learning. See n. 324 above. 328. As articulated in the Great Learning. 329. Although T’oegye does not document this saying specifically, he is partially quoting two key words that translate as “inborn substance” and “acquired system” from the Analects 6:16, which reads: “The Master said: ‘When inborn substance dominates over acquired system, the result would be rudeness. When acquired system dominates over inborn substance, the result would be formality. One is a cultivated person only when one’s inborn substance and acquired system are well balanced’ ” (see also Chan 1963b, 29, and Lau 1973, 83; words quoted by T’oegye are italicized).

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330. Among the so-called formalized rituals are court, wedding, funeral, ancestral, and other related rites. 331. Yan Yuan was Confucius’ disciple. For my comments on Yan Yuan and T’oegye’s admiration for him, see Chasŏngnok 13, n. 206, and Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 90 and 92. 332. These two phrases, “preserving the mind” and “governing the state,” originate in the Mencius in line with Confucius and the Great Learning, although T’oegye does not say so directly here. 333. Quoting Analects 1:5; translation from Lau 1979, 59. 334. In his other letters T’oegye also mentioned Confucius’ good example of reverence and propriety by indirectly quoting Analects 10:3 as well as the sixth part of Confucius’ teaching of “nine-fold thinking” in Analects 16:10. For details, see Chasŏngnok 13, pars. 10–11, including nn. 197–198. Furthermore, as I discuss in the “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” section of my introduction, reverence is a central topic in T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality, apparent from its frequent mention in his major essays, poems, and letters. For my commentary and published works on this topic, see Chasŏngnok, nn. 186 and 216. 335. Guishan is the literary name of Yang Shi (1053–1135). He was a wellknown scholar in Song China, and, as a former disciple of the Cheng brothers, Yang is also said to have contributed to the transmission of the Cheng brothers’ thought to Zhu Xi. In fact, Zhu included a brief conversation between Yang and his teacher Cheng Yi about Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription (Xi ming) in Jinsi lu, chap. 2 (“Essentials of Learning”), sec. 89; see Chan 1967, 80. 336. Chŏngja (courtesy name Myŏngŏn) was the official title—one of the central government’s top ninth-ranked titles—of Ki Taesŭng (1527–1572), but he was best known by his literary name, Kobong, for which reason we refer to him as “Kobong” or “Ki Kobong” in this book. As a brilliant young thinker, he wrote a few commentaries on Zhu Xi’s thought; his writings are collected in the Kobongjip. Although Kobong was not a direct disciple of T’oegye, he occasionally interacted with the senior scholar’s academy and philosophy from age thirty-two onward. The most famous example of his exchange of philosophical letters with T’oegye, which lasted for seven years (1559–1566), is the so-called Four-Seven debate on the Four Beginnings (of Virtue) and Seven Emotions and its implications for Neo-Confucian learning, ethics, and spiritual practice. In fact, T’oegye’s next reply letter to Kobong (Chasŏngnok 18) immediately following this present letter (Chasŏngnok 17) is the first of his three Four-Seven debate letters to this particular disciple. For more information, see nn. 355–357 in Chasŏngnok 18. Thanks to Kobong’s thoughtful challenge and rigorous thinking and writing, T’oegye was eventually able to develop a magnificent Four-Seven thesis that definitely shaped his entire ethics and spirituality. For details on this topic, see my in-depth study in Chung 1995b, esp. pp. 25–26, and chaps., 2 and 5; see also Kalton et al. 1994 for a full translation of T’oegye’s Four-Seven letters (TC 16:8b–30a; vol. 1, 409–416). 337. Chŏng Chajung was a leading disciple of T’oegye who frequently had



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scholarly conversations and exchanged several letters with his master. For his brief biography, see Chasŏngnok 4, n. 58. 338.  Hu Kanghou was the courtesy name of Hu Anguo. He was a fine scholar and professor at the national university in China; for him and his Hu family, see Song shi 435:4b–13a. His name is briefly mentioned in the Jinsi lu (Chan 1967, 52). T’oegye also mentions some issue with his relationship with his adopted son (Hu Zhitang) at the end of his eighth and last letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 11 and nn. 167–168). 339.  Here and in the first sentence of the next paragraph are further examples of T’oegye’s humility in his relationships to his disciples and junior colleagues (including Yi Yulgok and Ki Kobong). 340. Here it is unclear what T’oegye is trying to tell Kobong, except to make the point that he actually regretted his official career and the time spent preparing for the civil service examinations, both of which interrupted and hindered his original intention to pursue study and scholarly writing from an early age. He continues along this line in the following paragraph. 341.  The “things” mentioned here presumably include his official appointment. 342. As already noted, Ki Kobong exchanged several philosophical letters with T’oegye during the famous Four-Seven debate on the Four Beginnings and Seven Emotions, letters that helped T’oegye develop a great system of ethics and spirituality. It is therefore no wonder that T’oegye exhibits high regard for Kobong in this paragraph. See also Chasŏngnok 18. I discuss his Four-Seven philosophy in the section on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” in my introduction. 343. As mentioned in the “True Learning” section of my introduction, T’oegye often advised his disciples, as well as his junior colleagues like Kobong here, not to “manipulate” Confucian learning by following a “shortcut path” to a “quick result.” In light of Zhu Xi’s teaching, he emphasized that any kind of “selfish” manipulation would be an unfortunate flaw among those scholars who fail to cultivate themselves morally. For more comments, see the final paragraph of Chasŏngnok 13 and esp. nn. 234 and 256, in addition to Chasŏngnok 10 and 11, nn. 128 and 144, respectively. 344. Specifically quoting Analects 19:13, whose full text reads: “Tzu-hsia [Zi­ xia; one of Confucius’ close disciples] said: ‘A man who has energy to spare after studying should serve his state; a man who has energy to spare after serving his state should study’ ” (Chan 1963b, 48). For T’oegye, this also concurs with Analects 1:6: “When they [young people] have energy to spare from fulfilling such a [moral] life, they should then devote it to learning and cultivation” (see also Lau 1979, 59, or Chan 1963b, 20). See also Chasŏngnok 5, par. 2, including n. 65. 345. Chŏng refers to Chŏng Chiun (1509–1561) (literary name Ch’uman, courtesy name Chŏngi), who was seven years younger and occasionally communicated with T’oegye regarding his scholarly work. He was known for his Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic explanation of heaven’s mandate); see TC, 41:10b (vol. 2, 325) for this diagram. T’oegye revised and gave his interpretation of it; see the revised

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Ch’ŏnmyŏng sindo (New diagram of heaven’s mandate) in TC, 41:11a (vol. 2, 326). Chŏng’s diagram stated that “the Four Beginnings are aroused from i (principle) and the Seven Emotions are aroused from ki (material force/physical energy).” Kobong asked T’oegye for further clarification of this statement; thus began the famous Four-Seven debates in Korea. For more details, see Chung 1995b. 346. T’oegye is indirectly and partially quoting Confucius’ saying in Analects 16:11, which reads: “Confucius said . . . ‘I live in retirement in order to attain my purpose and practice what is right in order to realize my way.’ I have heard such a claim, but I have yet to meet such a man’ ” (Lau 1979, 141). 347. T’oegye here indirectly and partially quotes Analects 9:11, according to which “Yen Yüan [Yan Yuan, one of Confucius’ close disciples], heaving a sigh, said: ‘The more I look at it [the way of Confucius] the higher it appears. The more I bore into it the harder it becomes. I see it before me. Suddenly it is behind me. The Master is good at leading one on step by step. He broadens me with culture and brings me back to essentials by means of the rites. . . .” (Lau 1979, 97). 348. This quotation is probably a paraphrase of the Cheng brothers’ saying that “reverence means concentrating on one thing [single-mindedness], and one thing means not to deviate from one. . . .” (Er-Cheng quanshu 15:34b). A similar possible source for T’oegye’s quotation is the following passage: “[Otherwise,] the mind will become divided” (Jinsi lu 4:48; translation from Chan 1967, 144). This is closely associated with Cheng Yi’s saying that “if one concentrates on one thing. . . . and is reverent in order to rectify the self internally, then he will have a strong moving effort” (Yishu 15:1a; see also Chan 1963b, 552). In addition, Zhu Xi gave a similar interpretation: e.g., concentrating on one thing is like “holding the will firm” (ZZQS 2:8b; Chan 1963b, 606). It is no wonder that T’oegye emphasized this doctrine of “single-minded concentration” for self-cultivation in his major writings, including the Chasŏngnok. For my further comments, see Chasŏngnok 13, beginning part and n. 190, or Chasŏngnok 7, par. 3 and n. 87; Chasŏngnok 10, fourth to last paragraph and n. 132; and Chasŏngnok 11, par. 6 and n. 146. For my further discussion of this topic, see the sections on “Self-Cultivation” and “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” in my introduction. 349. Indirectly and partially quoting the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1, according to which, “The Way cannot be separated from us for a moment. What can be separated from us is not the Way. Therefore the superior man is cautious over what he does not see and apprehensive over what he does not hear. . . .” (Chan 1963b, 98; italicized words are quoted by T’oegye). 350. By “the three-fold reflection,” T’oegye is probably partially alluding to Analects 1:4. Its full text reveals what Zengzi learned regarding self-reflection from his master Confucius: “Zengzi said, ‘Every day I reflect on myself in three ways: first, whether in working for others I have not been loyal; second, whether in dealing with friends I have not been faithful; and third, whether I have not studied the transmitted the teaching’ ” (see also Chan 1963b, 20, or Lau 1979, 63). Regarding the “three-fold treasuring,” T’oegye likely means Analects 8:4, which illustrates what Zengzi learned from Confucius in terms of what “to treasure” most in fol-



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lowing the Way. Its text reads as follows: “Zengzi said. . . . ‘There are three things that the self-cultivated person treasures most: first, to stay far away from fierceness and snobbishness; second, to be trusted closely when properly correcting an expression on his face; and third, to avoid meanness and contradiction when talking or making sounds’ ” (see also Lau 1979, 92–93). With the “four-fold prohibition,” T’oegye is probably quoting Analects 12:1, where Confucius emphasized so-called “four don’ts” while practicing li in daily life. This is his response to the question asked by his beloved disciple Yan Yuan: Confucius said, “To master oneself and return to propriety (li) is humanity (ren). . . . Yan Yuan said, “May I ask for the detailed items?” Confucius said, “Do not look at what is contrary to propriety, do not listen to what is contrary to propriety, do not speak what is contrary to propriety, and do not make any movement which is contrary to propriety.” (Chan 1963b, 38–39; see also Lau 1979, 112) I also note that T’oegye frequently quotes Yan Yuan in his letters and essays. See the middle part of his fourth letter to Chŏng Chajung (Chasŏngnok 7), including nn. 90 and 92, where T’oegye articulates the same idea along with human-heartedness. 351. Here T’oegye means to briefly criticize as “false” and useless Śākyamuni Buddha’s teaching of annihilation and nirvana. For details, see Chasŏngnok 15, n. 312. T’oegye effectively defends Cheng-Zhu Confucian orthodoxy by harshly condemning the Buddha’s teaching. I discuss this same topic in the “Against Buddhism and Daoism” section of my introduction. 352. Indirectly and partially quoting Analects 7:8, where Confucius mentioned the so-called other three (corners of a square) for his students: “Confucius said, ‘I do not enlighten those who are not eager to learn, nor arouse those who are not anxious to give an explanation themselves. If I have presented one corner of the square and they cannot come back to me with the other three, I should not go over the points again’ ” (Chan 1963b, 31–32; see also Lau 1979, 86). By using Confucius’ analogy, T’oegye is telling Kobong that T’oegye has “the three corners of the square” (i.e., more ideas and further points) in order to continue discussing the Four-Seven thesis. 353. T’oegye here uses astonishingly self-effacing language, even for one who consistently uses a humble writing style. 354. T’oegye is articulating Zhu Xi’s metaphysics of li and qi, a well-researched topic that does not need to be rehearsed here. T’oegye often discussed the subject in his major essays as well as in his Chasŏngnok. See, for example, my introduction, the beginning paragraph of the “Philosophy of Principle” section; Chung 1995b; or Tu 1982, 1985b. 355. Ki’s courtesy and given names were Myŏngŏn and Taesŭng, respectively, but he was better known as Kobong (literary name). For his life and thought, see Chasŏngnok 17, n. 336. I should also note that this letter is a slightly revised version of the first of T’oegye’s three famous Four-Seven debate letters to his brilliant

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junior colleague. It is attached to the beginning of his second Four-Seven letter (see TC 16:19a–24a; vol. 1, 411–413); his third (final) Four-Seven letter (TC 17:3a–6a; vol. 1, 429–430) follows the text of the second letter (TC 16:24b–45a; vol. 1, 413–424). See also Kalton et al. 1994, 7–104, for a full translation of these letters. Consult Chung 1995b (chaps. 1–2 and 6) for a detailed discussion and interpretation of the whole topic including its practical implications for Neo-Confucian ethics and spirituality. 356. The locus classicus of “the Four Beginnings [of Virtue]” is a famous passage in the Mencius (2A:6): The mind-and-heart (sim/xin) of commiseration is the beginning of benevolence; the mind-and-heart of shame and dislike is the beginning of righteousness; the mind-and-heart of courtesy and modesty is the beginning of propriety; and the mind-and-heart of [moral discernment of] right and wrong is the beginning of wisdom. All human beings have these Four Beginnings (of Virtue; sadan/siduan) just as they have their four limbs” (see also Lau 1970, 82–83). Here Mencius specifically referred to the moral mind-and-hearts (moral feelings) of commiseration, shame and dislike, and so on. His ontological conviction is that the Four are naturally rooted in human nature, so the “mind-and-heart of commiseration” is identical to the “beginning of benevolence.” The Four are therefore the innate moral seeds of self-cultivation. This justifies the Mencian doctrine that the original goodness of “human nature” is inherent in our mind-and-heart (6A:6; Lau 1970, 163). For details on this topic, see the section on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotion” in my introduction or Chung 1995b, chap. 1. 357. The locus classicus for the Confucian term “Seven Emotions” (ch’ilchŏng/ qiqing) is the Book of Rites: “pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire” are basic human emotions that “are not acquired through learning from the outside” (Legge 1970, 1:379). Note that we are using the two English words “feeling” and “emotion” interchangeably; for details on the Confucian notion, see my “Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style” in this book or Chung 1995b, 39–41. As the list of the Seven in the Book of Rites is somewhat lengthy, the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1, paid special attention to the first three and added joy, representing the Seven Emotions as follows: Therefore the superior man is cautious over what he does not see and apprehensive over what he does not hear. . . . Before the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused [pal/fa] it is called equilibrium (chung[/zhong], centrality, mean). When [After] they are aroused and each and all attain due measure and degree, it is called harmony [hwa/ he]. Equilibrium is the great foundation of the world, and harmony is the universal path. When equilibrium and harmony are realized to the highest degree, heaven and earth will attain their proper order and all things will flourish. (Chan 1963b, 98; examples of the Seven are italicized)



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The Seven belong to the natural emotions that are the aroused states of the mind and body in response to external things. T’oegye, Kobong, and other Korean thinkers such as Yi Yulgok discussed this issue. T’oegye also quoted the key teaching of “before arousal” (mibal/weifa; unmanifested) and “after arousal” (ibal/yifa; manifested) throughout his Four-Seven debate, as well as in his other major essays and letters. As the Doctrine of the Mean teaches, mind cultivation therefore demands a measure of control over the Seven in order to attain the state of “harmony” after they are aroused. This topic became a key issue in the Four-Seven debates. For my other comments on the arousal of feelings and emotions and the Doctrine of the Mean, see Chasŏngnok 15, n. 304, and Chasŏngnok 7, nn. 95 and 101. See also my discussion of this topic in the “T’ogye on Human Nature and Emotions” section of my introduction. 358. T’oegye often articulated Zhu Xi’s metaphysics of li (principle, or the ground of being) and qi (material force, or physical/vital energy), which does not need to be repeated here; for more details including current scholarship on this topic, see n. 354 above. 359. I.e., Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl. T’oegye already mentioned Chŏng Chiun in his first letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 17); see n. 345 above for Chŏng’s biography, including his “Diagrammatic Explanation of Heaven’s Mandate” (ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl). 360. T’oegye is likely indebted to Zhu Xi for this key statement about the mutual inseparability of i and ki; for Zhu’s words, see ZZYL 1:2b (also included in ZZQS 49:1a; Chan 1963b, 634). 361. The key phrase “human nature endowed by heaven” (also translated as “heaven-mandated human nature”) is quoted by T’oegye, Zhu Xi, and others from the opening paragraph in the Doctrine of the Mean, which reads as follows: “What Heaven imparts to man is human nature (ch’ŏnmyŏng chi sŏng/ tianming zhi xing). To follow our nature is called the Way. Cultivating the Way is called education. The Way cannot be separated from us for a moment. What can be separated from us is not the Way” (Chan 1963b, 98; the sentence quoted by T’oegye is italicized; see also n. 357 above for the rest of the paragraph from which this quote is taken). 362. Partially citing “the original goodness of human nature” (sŏngsŏn chi sŏng/xingshan zhi xing) from Mencius 2A:6 and 6A:6 (see also Lau 1970, 82–83, 163), quoted in n. 356 above. 363.  In this paragraph, T’oegye is referring to the Song Neo-Confucian teaching of “physical human nature” in connection with and contrast to “original human nature” (or heaven-endowed human nature). According to him, both Zisi and Mencius referred specifically to human nature in itself, unmixed with the physical dispositions of ki/qi, so they meant the “original” goodness of human nature before it is disturbed by external stimuli involving ki. But when it is “mixed with ki” in concrete things, it is what Zhang Zai and Zhu Xi called the “physical human nature.” In fact, this also illustrates the third diagram on the Four and the Seven in T’oegye’s famous Sŏnghak sipto (see TC 7:24a–b; vol. 1, 204–205). For more relevant original sources, consult also ZZYL 4:11a–13b and ZZQS 42:4b, 42:6b–7a,

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9b–10a, 43:2b–4a (Chan 1963b, 613, 616–617, 623–624). In short, Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi explained the original (human) nature with respect to i/li, and the physical (human) nature as that which is conditioned by ki/qi. Zhang Zai discussed the latter in terms of the transformation of ki as a way of self-cultivation. Zhu concluded that they are just two different “names,” not two “separate” natures having their own ontological grounds (ZZYL 4:12b). As he stated: Original human nature is purely good. This is the nature described by Mencius as “good.” Master Zhou [Dunyi] described it as “pure and perfectly good” [Tongshu, chap. 1], and Master Cheng Yi called it “the fundamental character of our nature” [Yishu, 18:19b]. . . . This is why [Zhang Zai said,] “In physical human nature, there is that which the superior person refuses to call original nature,” and “If one learns to return to the original human nature endowed by heaven and earth, one will preserve it” [Zhangzi quanshu 2:18b]. Accordingly, any discussion of human nature must include physical human nature in order for the discussion to be complete. (ZZYL 4:11a–b; citations in brackets added) However, as I discuss in the section on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” in my introduction, Zhu did not clarify this topic in terms of feelings and emotions; nor did he discuss it in relation to the Four and the Seven. This was therefore a key issue in the Korean Four-Seven debate, as indicated by T’oegye’s letter here. For more, see Chung 1995b, 47–48, 60–61, 66–69, 80–84, 104–106. 364. It was indeed necessary for T’oegye to discuss the vital role of human feelings and emotions in self-cultivation. He tried to convince Kobong that since human nature is understood in terms of its two names, feelings may also be discussed in terms of their two names, the “Four and the Seven.” The Four-Seven relationship is therefore similar to the original nature-physical nature relationship: the Four pertain to the original human nature and the Seven to the physical human nature. T’oegye’s position generally supports Zhu Xi’s view that the original human nature is the state of perfect goodness before the feelings/emotions are aroused, whereas the physical human nature is the actual state involving both good and evil after the feelings/emotions are aroused. See the section on “T’oegye’s Scholarship” in my introduction for further discussion of this topic. 365. Indirectly citing Mencius 2A:6 and 6A:6. See n. 356 above for the locus classicus of the Four Beginning of Virtue. 366. Indirectly citing the Seven list from the Book of Rites; see n. 357 above for details. 367. Paraphrasing Mencius 2A:6 and 6A:6; see n. 356 for quotations from these sections. According to T’oegye, the moral feelings (i.e., the mind-and-heart) of commiseration, shame and dislike, and so on, are the Four Beginnings of such virtues as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. He therefore meant that the Four should be understood as the inborn moral qualities or fundamental seeds of goodness.



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368. On the contrary, the Seven (pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire) are basic feelings that arise from external influence and are therefore to be understood as physical and psychological states. From the perspective of self-cultivation, I would emphasize that for T’oegye the moral nourishment of the Four and a measure of emotional control over the Seven are quite relevant here. For further discussion of this topic, see the section on “T’oegye’s Scholarship” in my introduction or Chung 1995b. 369. In T’oegye’s view, physical form is always in motion and thus becomes stimulated easily by the external things that represent ki and can lead to evil. For more on this theme, see Chasŏngnok 8, n. 111. Here T’oegye makes a consistent point that the evil tendency of one’s “inborn ki” does not represent “the original essence of human nature”; he does so by quoting Cheng Hao (Mingdao), who addressed good and evil in terms of physical nature (conditioned by “inborn ki/ qi”), the water analogy, and self-cultivation. So T’oegye, like Zhu Xi, used Cheng’s analogy of “the clarity and turbidity of water,” according to which “the original goodness of human nature is like the original clarity of water” (Yishu 1:7b–8a; Chan 1963b, 528). This was further interpreted by Zhu in his “Commentary on Cheng Mingdao’s Discourse on Human Nature”: “That water may be turbid to a ‘greater or smaller extent’ is similar to the fact that one’s qi may be dark or clear and pure or impure in varying degree” (ZZWJ 67:17a–b; Chan 1963b, 598–599). 370. Indirectly quoting Mencius 2A:6 and 6A:6; see also n. 356 above for this text. 371.  Indirectly quoting the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1; see also n. 357 above. 372. T’oegye (and Kobong) probably used Zhu Xi’s key statement about the mutual inseparability of i and ki; see ZZYL 1:2b (or ZZQS 49:1a; Chan 1963b, 634). T’oegye was aware of the doctrine that i and ki are inseparable from each other in concrete phenomena, but he chose to emphasize that one must not neglect the fact that each of i and ki is “an entity in itself” in accordance with Zhu Xi’s original saying (see ZZYL 1:1a–3a; ZZWJ 46:24a–b, 59:45b). This is why T’oegye criticized Kobong for going too far in stressing only their inseparability without acknowledging their distinction. 373. Under Kobong’s challenge, T’oegye moved a step away from his previous theory that affirms the sharp Four-Seven contrast in terms of i and ki. He agreed that the issuance of the Four and the Seven involves both i and ki. But he also maintained that they should be distinguished from each other. By pointing out the divergence as well as the convergence of the Four and the Seven, he asserts here that they are indeed different and that Kobong is therefore mistaken in contending that they do not have different origins and meanings. For T’oegye they are different in both ontological and conceptual contexts. 374. It is not clear if this statement directly originates with Confucius, in contrast to what T’oegye seems to indicate here. Its locus classicus is actually the Book of Changes, “The Great Appendix,” pt. A (immediately following the sixty-fourth hexagram), sec. 5 (two opening sentences), which reads: “The successive system of one yin and one yang is called the Way. What follows this (the Way) is good;

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what accomplishes this (the Way) is human nature. Benevolent people call it ‘benevolence’ (ren); and wise people call it ‘wisdom’ ” (see also Legge 1964, 355–356, or Chan 1963b, 266). 375.  Partially quoting Zhou Dunyi’s “Diagrammatic Explanation of the Great Ultimate” (Taijitu shuo; K. T’aegŭkto sŏl) in the Zhouzi quanshu (see Chan 1963b, 463). This diagram also appears as the first part of T’oegye’s famous Ten Diagrams of Sage Learning (Sŏnghak sipto). For more on this, see Chasŏngnok 5, middle and ending parts and nn. 69, 72–74, and 79. 376. Abbreviating Analects 17:2, where Confucius intended to state, according to Zhu Xi and Cheng Yi (Chan 1963b, 45), that although human nature is originally similar (i.e., basically good), there are differences in the physical, personal, and related conditioning of it in daily practice by one’s qi. In other words, physical human nature is diverse. 377. Partially quoting Mencius 7B:24. 378. T’oegye here is citing the two key words, “centrality” and “harmony,” from the opening paragraph in the Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1; see n. 357 above for its full text. 379. T’oegye is probably citing Cheng Yi’s passing reference to the Seven in Yishu 18:1a and 17a (see also Er-Cheng quanshu 43:13a). 380. Probably quoting Zhu Xi’s key statement on the inseparability and interdependency of li and qi in ZZWJ 46:24a. 381. In the original version of his first letter, T’oegye charges that Kobong’s interpretation of i and ki is no different from Luo Qinshun’s thought found in his Kunzhi ji (Knowledge painfully acquired); see TC 16:11a (vol. 1, 407). Note that during T’oegye’s time, Luo Qinshun (literary name Zhengan) was the most prominent scholar of the Cheng-Zhu school in Ming China, and he emphasized “the oneness of i and ki.” Following Luo, Kobong made what T’oegye calls a “serious mistake” in over-emphasizing “the oneness of i and ki,” insofar as Kobong’s reasoning is highly reminiscent of Luo’s monistic interpretation of i and ki. T’oegye argues that Kobong, like Luo, is wrong in conceiving i and ki as “one thing”; this is why he criticizes Kobong for interpreting the original and physical human natures on the basis of Luo’s ideas. Apparently, Luo’s Kunzhi ji became a popular text among other Korean thinkers, including Yi Yulgok. For further discussion of this topic, see Chung 1995b. For Luo’s Kunzhi ji, see Bloom 1987. 382. Overall, T’oegye’s vocabulary points to a “dualistic” interpretation of the Four-Seven issue. One should clearly understand the difference between the Four and the Seven in terms of origin, meaning, and quality. For T’oegye, this was a moral issue with profound implications for self-cultivation. Throughout the debate, including his second and third (final) letters, he criticized Kobong for arguing that the Four and the Seven cannot be analyzed separately. 383. Here T’oegye politely warns Kobong that if he (or anyone else) does not clearly distinguish i from ki in the ontological and ethical contexts, there will be an unfortunate consequence of misidentifying the innate moral qualities manifested from heaven’s principle (ch’ŏlli/tianli) with the human desires (inyok/renyu) that



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can easily become evil due to external stimuli. T’oegye frequently emphasized his profound belief in the transcendent and moral power of heaven’s principle in his major writings. For more comments, see Chasŏngnok 16, n. 320, as well as Chasŏngnok 13, n. 209. As I discuss in the sections on “T’oegye on Human Nature and Emotions” and “Self-Cultivation” in my introduction, the core of T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality centers on “preserving heaven’s principle and overcoming selfish human desires,” together with reverence, quiet sitting, and mind cultivation. This is a key topic throughout his philosophy, which I have discussed elsewhere (e.g., Chung 2010a, 2011c). 384. Quoting ZZYL 53:17b. This sentence could also be translated as “The Four Beginnings are [represent] the issuance (pal/fa) of i; the Seven Emotions are [represent] the issuance of ki.” Zhu Xi also meant that they cannot be spoken of as two separate realms of human feelings. As T’oegye explains in his second FourSeven letter to Kobong (TC 16:19a–24a; vol. 1, 411–413) the Four are “purely good” and so should be represented “principally by i,” whereas the Seven are capable of becoming good or evil and therefore should be characterized “principally by ki.” 385. Once again, T’oegye is using self-effacing language, which is consistent with his wise mentorship in communicating with his junior colleagues and his disciples. 386. For Chŏng Chajung’s biography, see Chasŏngnok 4, n. 58. All of T’oegye’s eight letters to Chŏng are included in this translation of the Chasŏngnok. For the life and thought of Ki Myŏngŏn (Kobong), see Chasŏngnok 17. n. 355 . 387. To be more specific, this sentence appears in Jinsi lu, chap. 1 (“The Substance of the Way”), sec. 32, which continues: “The state before there is any response to it is not an earlier one, and the state after there has been response to it is not a later one. It is like a tree one hundred feet high. From the root to the branches and leaves, there is one thread running though all” (Chan 1967, 25–26). 388. Although T’oegye does not specify the source of this paragraph, he is likely quoting Zhu Xi’s comment as written in the Jinsi lu (chap. 1, sec. 32). Note that Zhu’s comment immediately follows Cheng’s saying that appears just above it. For a similar translation of these statements, see Chan 1967, 26, according to which Zhu’s comment also appears in ZZYL 95:21b. 389. T’oegye is probably quoting Zhu Xi further according to Jinsi lu, chap. 1, sec. 32; see also Chan 1967, 26) or ZZYL 95:22a. Note that in this paragraph, Zhu also quotes Cheng Yi’s original saying about “empty and tranquil, and without any sign. . . .” See the beginning paragraph of this letter (Chasŏngnok 19) by T’oegye. 390. Paraphrasing or quoting Jinsi lu, chap. 1, sec. 32 or ZZYL 95:22a. 391. Referring to Zhou Dunyi’s famous Taijitu shuo, a short diagrammatic essay about his Neo-Confucian metaphysics and ethics of the Great Ultimate (taiji). See Zhouzi quanshu, chaps. 1–2, in Chan 1963b, 463–464. For this essay as well as Zhu Xi’s commentary, see also Jinsi lu, chap. 1 (“The Substance of the Way”), sec. 1; or Chan 1967, 5–7. 392. In this sentence, the phrase “the manifest and the subtle” also originates from the middle part of the first chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean, which reads:

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“The superior person is cautious over what he does not see and apprehensive over what he does not hear. There is nothing more visible than what is hidden and nothing more manifest than what is subtle” (Chan 1963b, 98). 393.  T’oegye, as usual, does not specify full documentation for these two quotations, both of which are based on Zhu’s comments on the Book of Changes. Zhu’s commentary was probably attached to the collected commentaries on the Book of Changes. I was unable to trace its exact location in his works (e.g., ZZWJ or ZZYL). 394. Lü Zuqian and Zhu Xi compiled the Jinsi lu together. For a brief biography of Lü, see Chasŏngnok 16, n. 313. 395. Partially and indirectly citing Cheng Yi’s saying; see n. 387 above. 396. The locus classicus of this phrase, “the universal path of the world,” is Doctrine of the Mean, chap. 1. See also n. 357 for the relevant passage that includes it. 397. This paragraph is in one of the letters Zhu Xi wrote to his colleague Lü Zuqian, and it appears in Zhu’s ZZDQ 48:20b–21b. 398. As indicated by T’oegye, Zhu Xi therefore quoted the two key phrases “one origin” and “no separating space” from the same statement: “substance and function are of one origin; there is no separating space between the manifest and the subtle.” This statement appears in the preface to the Book of Changes. 399. Letter to Lü Zuqian, ZZDQ 48:22a. 400. Referring to Zhu Xi’s commentary on the Great Learning; for a quick introduction to this text, see Chasŏngnok 14, n. 263. 401. Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235) is also known as Xishan. For my brief introduction to his thought, including its strong influence on T’oegye’s practice of spiritual self-cultivation, see Chasŏngnok 16, n. 319. I also discuss this topic in Chung 2004 and 2009. 402. Anqing (1159–1223) was Chen Chun’s courtesy name; he was also known by his literary name, Beixi. He was Zhu Xi’s leading disciple; for a brief introduction to his thought, see Chasŏngnok 5, n. 71. 403. T’oegye is quoting Chen Anqing’s letter to Zhu Xi, ZZDQ 57:43b. 404. T’oegye is quoting Zhu Xi’s reply to Chen Anqing’s letter above, ZZDQ 57:45a. 405. Referring to a Song Chinese scholar whose given name was Cai Yuan (literary name Jiezhai); see SongYuan xuean, chap. 62. 406.  Referring to Zhou Dunyi’s famous Taijitu shuo, Zhouzi quanshu (see Chan 1963b, 463). It is also included in the first part of T’oegye’s Ten Diagrams of Sagely Learning (Sŏnghak sipto). For my further comments on this, see Chasŏngnok 5, middle and ending parts, and nn. 69 and 79. 407. For Myŏngŏn’s (Kobong’s) scholarly relationship with T’oegye (such as the Four-Seven debate), see Chasŏngnok 17, n. 336. 408. In this letter (as well as the twenty-second, and last, letter in the Chasŏngnok), T’oegye sincerely advises Ki Kobong about the ongoing trend of seeking personal gain and the problem of political corruption. One of the ways that T’oegye expresses his disapproval of such selfish pursuits is by characterizing them as “worthless fame,” “common defect,” “fabricated stories,” “cheating one-



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self/others,” “collapse,” and so on. It seems that he had to warn Kobong against this troubling reality in pursuing a public career on the basis of his own experience. For his similar advice to No Ijae, see Chasŏngnok 21, n. 410. 409. T’oegye sent this letter to No Susin (1515–1590) in 1560, when the former was sixty years old (by Korean age count). No, whose literary name was Ijae or Sojae, passed the highest level of civil service examination at age twentynine and eventually attained a top official position. Although No was fourteen years younger than T’oegye, he became one of the latter’s close junior colleagues through scholarly communication, including some exchange of philosophical letters ­during No’s twenty-year exile after a major political persecution. His writings are collected in the Sojaejip (Collected works of No Sojae). This same letter is also included in TC 10:12a–16b (vol. 1, 287–289), immediately following T’oegye’s other letter to No (TC 10:6a–12b; vol. 1, 284–287). No was an independent thinker, although he was influenced by the Ming Chinese thinker Luo Qinshun (Zhengan), especially his critical interpretation of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. However, No’s famous Insim tosim pyŏn (Discourse on the moral mind and the human mind) ­received a negative reaction from T’oegye, who criticized both Luo and No for seeing the moral mind and the human mind as a single thing. For my further discussion of No’s thought, including his major writings, see Chung 1995b, 21–22. 410. T’oegye is alluding here to No’s ongoing exile pursuant to the Ŭlsa Literati Purge (Ŭlsa sahwa) of 1545. Note that “literati purge” (sahwa) refers to a series of persecutions between 1498 and 1545, during which time Sarim Neo-Confucian scholar-officials suffered four purges instigated by their political rivals. Considering T’oegye’s emphasis in the first four paragraphs of this letter to, for example, “being deceitful,” “criticism and disapproval,” “people’s arrogance,” “toward collapse,” “bitter grief,” and “justified anger,” we may infer that he wanted to express his strong disappointment and concern with the central court’s factionalism, power struggles, and political corruption. The first and second purges took place in 1498 and 1504 during the reign of Yŏnsan’gun, who disliked academia and its regional Confucian background. The third purge (1519) involved many Sarim officials, including their famous leader, Cho Kwangjo. It soon led to the fourth Ŭlsa Purge (1545), another severe persecution caused especially by power struggles and corruption among families and relatives of the competing princes. In a similar vein, T’oegye tells Ki Kobong in Chasŏngnok 20 to be careful of political power and fame, which can easily lead to personal disaster; for more, see n. 408 above. Regarding Korean Neo-Confucianism and literati purges before T’oegye’s time, see Chung 1995b, 16–18, or Wagner 1975 (covering the first three literati purges); two new Korean sources are Kim Insuk 2009 and Han’guk Inmulsa Yŏn’guwŏn 2011. 411. Referring to Li Tong (Yanping). For Li’s influence on T’oegye’s philosophy and practice of mind cultivation, see Chasŏngnok 13, nn. 208 and 236, and Chasŏngnok 14, n. 274. 412. This text was compiled by Chen Bo (literary name Nantang; d.u.), a Song Chinese Neo-Confucian scholar. It consists of a number of guidelines for the Cheng-Zhu way of daily learning and mind cultivation from morning to night.

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413.  By two shortened titles, Jizhu and Zhangju, T’oegye obviously means the collected commentaries on the Four Books as follows: Lunyu jizhu, Mengzi jizhu, Daxue zhangju (Collected commentaries on the Great Learning), and Zhongyong zhangju, all of which were edited and compiled by Zhu Xi. See this book’s bibliography for full citations of these works. 414. It is unclear exactly what T’oegye is talking about in this and next sentences. He probably means that one has to be true, accurate, or error-free about the original texts and their interpretations regarding these two phrases in No’s letter. 415. T’oegye’s philosophy and spirituality of reverence appear frequently in his great essays and letters. For my comments and published works on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 13 and 14, nn. 186, and 260, respectively. I discuss this topic in the “Reverence and Spiritual Cultivation” section of my introduction. For Zhu Xi’s and T’oegye’s interpretations of “single-mindedness,” see Chasŏngnok 10, n. 132 and Chasŏngnok 13, n. 190. 416. It seems that No first talked about Chen Bo in his letter to T’oegye, for which reason T’oegye mentions Chen here although he was not familiar with Chen. See n. 412 above for more information on Chen. 417. Referring to Xu Heng (1209–1281), whose literary name was Luzhai. He was greatly influenced by Zhu Xi’s commentaries on the Four Books and his Xiaoxue. As a leading scholar of the Zhu Xi school in Yuan China, he also served as a famous mentor to Khubilai. For a good, detailed discussion of Xu’s life and thought, including his service to the emperor, see de Bary 1981, 22–24, 41–47, 131–148. 418. Referring to an essay by the Song Chinese Chen Yingzhong, who wrote it out of his frustration and regret at failing to recognize Cheng Bochun and afterward hearing about him from another man, Fan Chunfu. It seems that this personal experience was rather vaguely compared with a story in Analects 7:18, according to which “the Governor of She asked Zilu [one of Confucius’ disciples] about Confucius, but Zilu did not answer . . .” (see also Lau 1979, 88). In his Zechen zhi wen, Chen criticized the governor for failing to recognize Confucius as a sage when he asked Zilu who his master was. Similarly, T’oegye seems to be indicating by analogy his regret here at not knowing who Chen Bo (Nantang) was; however, it’s unclear why, despite No’s question, this vague analogy was deemed necessary at all. 419. T’oegye sent this letter to Ki Myŏngŏn (Kobong), the final letter in the Chasŏngnok, in 1558, when the former was fifty-eight years old (by Korean age reckoning), signaling their famous epistolary Four-Seven debate, which took place between 1559 and 1566. T’oegye’s revised first Four-Seven letter is the eighteenth letter in the Chasŏngnok. For Ki Kobong’s life and thought, see Chasŏngnok 17 and 18, nn. 336 and 355, respectively. 420. In the seventh month of 1558, T’oegye, by that time Korea’s leading scholar, was commanded by King Myŏngjong to serve at the central court. He politely declined, but when the king overruled his health-related excuses, T’oegye was then forced to go to Seoul and begin a top appointment as the principal of the



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Sŏnggyun’gwan royal college. He took up this post in October but quit after only a month for reasons he does not specify here. However, based on what he advised Ki Kobong and No Ijae (literary name) in the preceding two letters—regarding “worthless fame,” “common defect,” “selfish interests,” “cheating oneself/others,” “being deceitful,” “people’s arrogance,” “toward collapse,” “bitter grief,” “justified anger,” and so on—it seems that T’oegye, a true scholar uninterested in gaining political power or fame, resigned due to Seoul’s persistent problems of political corruption, factional power struggles, and literati persecutions. For related comments on this topic, see Chasŏngnok 19 and 21, nn. 408 and 410, respectively. For T’oegye’s pattern of declining and resigning from political office, see my discussion of “T’oegye’s Life” in my introduction. 421. Although T’oegye does not specify whose letter this was, it was probably from Ki Kobong and sent about one year before their Four-Seven debate began in 1559. T’oegye also does not indicate where this “explanation of the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions” comes from. In my view, it is likely from the Diagrammatic Explanation of Heaven’s Mandate (Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl), composed by his junior colleague Chŏng Chiun (courtesy name Chŏngi; literary name Ch’uman). This “explanation” included a key statement about the Four-Seven contrast as follows: “The Four Beginnings issue from i (principle), whereas the Seven Emotions issue from ki (physical energy; material force).” In his first Four-Seven letter of 1559 (i.e., Chasŏngnok 18), T’oegye tells Kobong that he reviewed this diagram and, as indicated in this present letter, had some concern about Chŏng’s Four-Seven statement in his Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl because it put too much emphasis on the dualistic contrast between the Four and the Seven in terms of i and ki. In the same letter T’oegye says: “I was concerned that Chŏng’s differentiation of the Four and the Seven is excessive to the extent that it would become a starting point for controversial debate. I therefore modified it by using such phrases as ‘purely good,’ ‘involves ki as well,’ and so on.” 422. Note that T’oegye already mentioned Chŏng Chŏngi in his previous letter to Ki Kobong (Chasŏngnok 17); see n. 345 for a brief biography of Chŏng, including his Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl. For more on this, see n. 421 just above. 423. Here and in preceding paragraphs, T’oegye’s references to “this confused person,” “my humble views,” “my low opinions,” and so on, are further displays of his characteristic self-effacing and polite style. 424. T’oegye does not indicate the source of this statement, but it is a famous saying attributed to Confucius in Analects 4:8. Cf. Chan’s translation: “In the morning, hear the Way; in the evening, die content” (1963b, 26); Lau’s translation is: “He has not lived in vain who dies the day he is told about the Way” (1979, 73). 425. Referring to Yu Kyŏngsu (1516–1571), whose courtesy name was T’aeho. He is known to have passed a high level of the civil service examination and held several official positions. 426. Hu Kanghou was a well-known professor at the national academy in Song China. For more on him, see Chasŏngnok 11, n. 167. 427. What T’oegye, like Zhu Xi before him, basically means by using the so-

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called disease-and-medication analogy is that the defect of learning is due to one’s own failure and can be fixed only by one’s own dedicated, “sincere,” and “singleminded” efforts at self-reflection. T’oegye quotes Zhu here and gives the same advice to his disciples and other junior colleagues; for example, see the beginning paragraph of Chasŏngnok 7. He also warns them not to “manipulate” learning by taking a selfish “shortcut path” without practicing self-cultivation. I discuss this topic in the “True Learning” section of my introduction. For more comments, see Chasŏngnok 17, n. 343. 428. As usual, T’oegye does not specify the locus classicus of this sentence, which originates in Mencius 7A:2: “Mencius said, ‘Though nothing happens that is not due to destiny, one accepts willingly only what is one’s proper destiny. That is why he who understands destiny does not stand under a [stone] wall on the verge of collapse. He who dies after having done his best in following the Way dies according to his proper destiny. It is never anyone’s proper destiny to die in fetters’ ” (Lau 1970, 182; phrase quoted by T’oegye is italicized). 429. Indirectly quoting an interesting key passage in Mencius 6A:10, where the ultimate meaning of taking moral “righteousness” over “[individual] life” when must choose between one or the other is articulated in terms of this bear-fish analogy, with the “bear’s palm” representing morality and the “fish” representing individual life. The original, full version of this passage reads as follows: Mencius said, “Fish is what I want; bear’s palm is also what I want. If I cannot have both, I would rather take bear’s palm than fish. Life is what I want; dutifulness [righteousness] is also what I want. If I cannot have both, I would rather take dutifulness than life. On the one hand, though life is what I want, there is something I want more than life. . . . In other words, there are things a man wants more than life and there are also things he loathes more than death. This is an attitude not confined to the moral man but common to all men. The moral man simply never loses it.” (Lau 1970, 166) By using the bear-and-fish analogy, as expressed in this letter to Ki Kobong, T’oegye emphasized the implication of the Mencian teaching; in particular, he wanted to remind Kobong that the true Confucian way of life requires self-cultivation, including moral “righteousness” (i.e., choosing the “bear’s palm”), which is more important than merely having an official government position or staying home in the interest of privacy and a quiet life. 430. The source of this statement is Mencius 7A:1: “He who exerts his mind to the utmost knows his nature. He who knows his nature knows Heaven. To preserve one’s mind and to nourish one’s nature is the way to serve Heaven. Not to allow any double-mindedness regardless of longevity or brevity of life, but to cultivate one’s person and wait for [destiny . . . to take its own course] is the way to fulfill one’s destiny” (Chan 1963b, 78; cf. Lau 1970, 182; italics indicate T’oegye’s quote). Also note that the Mencian teaching of “preserving the mind and nourishing hu-



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man nature” was frequently cited by leading Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi and T’oegye as a way of self-cultivation in accordance with heaven’s principle. As indicated by T’oegye’s own preceding footnote, he means that self-cultivation by means of “choosing moral righteousness” is more essential and important than being concerned with “the longevity or brevity of one’s life.” 431. Hasŏ was the literary name of Kim Inhu (1510–1560); his courtesy name was Huji. He was nine years younger than T’oegye and died ten years before the latter. Kim is probably mentioned here in response to Ki Kobong’s question about Kim’s scholarship and personal problems (e.g., alcoholism). 432. Jade Hall was a special name referring to the Hongmun’gwan. NeoConfucian scholars held key positions there and tried to maintain their central power base as well as their regional academic connections. See Chasŏngnok 4, n. 6, for more on the Chosŏn Korean government, Hongmun’gwan, and T’oegye’s moral-political views. 433. Iljae was the literary name of Yi Hang (1499–1576). Two years older than T’oegye, he was a leading Korean scholar in the mid-sixteenth century. He developed a monistic theory of the oneness of i and ki in things under the influence of Luo Qinshun’s philosophy in Ming China. T’oegye mentions Yi Iljae here probably in response to Kobong’s question. T’oegye later criticized Yi’s theory for failing to address the ontological and conceptual “unmixability of i and ki” in the Cheng-Zhu context. For my brief discussion of Yi’s thought, see Chung 1995b, 20; for T’oegye’s criticism of Luo, see Chasŏngnok 18, n. 381. In fact, Luo’s Kunzhi ji was an influential text among leading Korean thinkers such as Ki Kobong and Yi Yulgok because of its special attention to “the oneness of i and ki” and the role of ki in phenomena. 434. T’oegye was not aware of Wang Yuanze. Wang was a boy whose father, Wang Anshi (1021–1086), was a prominent statesman, socioeconomic reformer, and noted poet in Song China. Wang Anshi also served as the Song dynasty’s prime minister from 1069 to 1075. For a record of his life and thought, consult SongYuan xuean, chap. 98; for more information on Wang Anshi in English, see Chan 1967, 233–234, or Mote 1999, 138–142. T’oegye is probably referring to this unspecified story in response to what Ki Kobong cited regarding Wang Anshi and his son in his letter to T’oegye; furthermore, Ki Kobong likely read the story somewhere in Zhu Xi’s or other Song thinkers’ writings, since they were familiar with Wang Anshi as a leading politician and an unorthodox scholar in Song history. Wang is also mentioned a few times in Zhu Xi’s Jinsi lu: for example, Zhu’s comments on Wang’s notion of laws as “comparable to the ‘eighty percent script’ ” as well as Cheng Hao’s critical view of his understanding of “the universal principle” (Chan 1967, 233–234, 247). Cheng Hao criticized Wang Anshi’s radical reform measures for not following Confucian moral principles, and Zhang Zai, another Song master, questioned Wang’s land system reform (Chan 1967, xxix, xxxi). 435. By “teach me,” T’oegye is once again humbling himself in communicating with someone less accomplished than himself.

Glossary of Key Terms, Titles, and Names

Abbreviations in square brackets following personal names indicate the category of name, as follows: g.n., given name (myŏng/ming); l.n., literary name (ho/hao); c.n., courtesy name (cha/zi). ae 哀 ak/o 惡 Bai Jui 白居易 Beixi [l.n.] 北溪 (K. Pukkye; see Chen Anqing and Chen Chun) Beixi quanshu 北溪全書 Cai Jiezhai [l.n.] (Yuan [g.n.]) 蔡節齋 (‌蔡淵) cha/zi 字 Chabŭi 雜儀 Chach’oe 齋衰 Ch’amch’oe 斬衰 Chasŏngnok 自省錄 ch’e/ti 體 Chen Anqing [c.n.] 陳安卿 (see Chen Chun) Chen Baisha [l.n.] (see Chen Xianzhang) Chen Beixi [l.n.] (see Chen Chun) Chen Bo [g.n.] (Nantang [l.n.]) 陳柏 (‌南 塘) Chen Chun [g.n.] (Anqing [c.n.]; Beixi [l.n.]) 陳淳 (安卿; 北溪) Chen Nantang [l.n.] (see Chen Bo) Chen Xiang 陳相 Chen Xianzhang [g.n.] (Baisha [l.n.]) 陳 獻章 (白沙) Chen Xinan 陳新安 Chen Yingzhong 陳瑩中 Cheng Bochun 程伯淳 Cheng Hao [g.n.] ([Master] Mingdao) 程顥 (明道)

Cheng Yi [g.n.] ([Master] Yichuan) 程 頤 (伊川) Cheng-Zhu 程朱 (see also Chŏngjuhak) chi/zhi 智 chibang 紙榜 chigyŏng/qijing 持敬 ch’ilchŏng/chiqing 七情 Chinhakdo 進學圖 chinsa 進士 Cho Kwangjo [g.n.] (Chŏngam [l.n.]) 趙光祖 (靜庵) Cho Sagyŏng [c.n.] (Mok [g.n.]) 趙士 敬 (穆) chojo 朝祖 Cholgok 卒哭 ch’ŏlli/tianli 天理 ch’ŏmji 僉知 chŏn 奠 chŏng/qing 情 Chŏng Chajung [c.n.] (Yuil [g.n.]) 鄭子 中 (惟一) Chŏng Chiun [g.n.] (Chŏngi [c.n.]; Ch’uman [l.n.]) 鄭之雲 (靜而; 秋巒) Chŏng Chŏngi [c.n.] (see Chŏng Chiun) Chŏng Ch’uman [l.n.] (see Chŏng Chiun) Chŏng Kyŏngsŏk [c.n.] (Yunhŭi [g.n.]) 丁景錫 (允禧) Chŏng yumunja 正謬文字 chŏnghak 正學

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Glossary

Chŏngjuhak 程朱學 (see also Chujahak) chŏngjwa/jingzuo 靜坐 chŏngjwa/zhengzuo 正坐 Ch’ŏngryang 淸凉 chŏngrye/zhengli 正禮 ch’ŏnin habil/tianren heyi 天人合一 ch’ŏnmyŏng/tianming 天命 ch’ŏnmyŏng chi sŏng/tianming zhi xing 天命之性 Ch’ŏnmyŏng sindo 天命新圖 Ch’ŏnmyŏng to 天命圖 Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl 天命圖說 Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn 傳習錄論辨 Chosikjam (see Tiaoxi zhen) Chuanxi lu 傳習錄 chugyŏng/zhujing 主敬 Chujahak 朱子學 Chujasŏ chŏryo 朱子書節要 chung/zhong 中 Chungjong 中宗 Chunqiu fanlu 春秋繁露 churip’a 主理派 chwa/zuo 坐 chwach’i (Ch. zuoqi) 坐馳 chwamang/zuowang 坐忘 Da Ming huidian 大明會典 Dano 端午 Daxue 大學 Daxue huowen 大學或問 Daxue juan 大學傳 Daxue yienyi bo 大學衍義補 Daxue zhangju 大學章句 Dingfu [c.n.] (see You Zuo) Dong Deshu 滕德粹 Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 Donglai 東萊 (see Lü Zuqian) Fan Chunfu 范淳夫 Fu Hanqing 輔漢卿 Fujiwara Seika 藤原惺窩 Gaozi 告子 Gongsun Chou 公孫丑 Guishan [l.n.] (see Yang Shi) guizuo shuo (K. kwejwasŏl) 跪坐說

Han Yunmyŏng [g.n.] (Sahyŏng [c.n.]) 韓胤明 (士炯) Hansŏng 漢城 hao (see ho/hao) Hayashi Razan 林羅山 ho/hao 號 Hoegokjip 晦谷集 honbaek 魂帛 Hong Inu [g.n.] (Ŭnggil [c.n.]) 洪仁祐 (‌應吉) Hongmun’gwan 弘文館 Hu Anguo [g.n.] (Kanghou [c.n.]; Wending [l.n.]) 胡安國 (康候; 文定) Hu Bingwen 胡炳文 Hu Hong [g.n.] (Wefeng [l.n.]) 胡宏 (‌五 峯) Hu Kanghou [c.n.] (see Hu Anguo) Hu Wufeng (see Hu Hong) Hu Zhitang 胡致堂 Huangji jingshi shu 皇極經世書 Hui [g.n.] (see Yan Yuan) Huian [l.n.] 晦庵 (see Zhu Xi) Huowen 或問 (see also Daxue huowen) hwa/he 和 Hwadam (see Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk) Hwang Chunggŏ [c.n.] (Chullywang [g.n.]) 黃仲擧 (俊良) hyŏng i ha/xingerxia 形而下 hyŏng i sang/xingershang 形而上 i/li 理 i/li 利 ibal/yifa 已發 ihak/lixue 理學 iil punsu/liyi fenshu 理一分殊 ilbon mansu/yiben wanshu 一本萬殊 in/ren 仁 insim/renxin 人心 Insim tosim pyŏn 人心道心辨 inyok/renyu 人慾 iyok/liyu 利欲 iyong/liyong 利用 Jiali 家禮 Jiali tu 家禮圖 Jiali yijiu 家禮義節

jing (K. kyŏng ) 敬 Jinsi lu 近思錄 Jizhu 集註 (see also Lunyu jizhu and Mengzi jizhu) kamyo 家廟 Kao Tzu (see Gaozi) kat 갓 ki/qi 氣 Ki Chŏngja [official rank title] 奇正字 (see Ki Taesŭng ) Ki Myŏngŏn [c.n.] (see Ki Taesŭng) Ki Taesŭng [g.n.] (Myŏngŏn [c.n.]; Kobong [l.n.]) 奇大升 (明彦; 高峯) kijil/qizhi 氣質 kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性 Kim An’guk [g.n.] (Mojae [l.n.]) 金安 國 (慕齋) Kim Chahu 金子厚 Kim Hasŏ [l.n.] (Inhu [g.n.]; Huji [c.n.]) 金河西 (麟厚; 厚之) Kim Kahaeng [c.n.] (Pusin [g.n.]) 金可 行 (富信) Kim Myŏngwŏn [g.n.] (Ŭngsun [c.n.]) 金命元 (應順) Kim Paegyŏng [c.n.] (Puin [g.n.]) 金伯 榮 (富仁) Kim Tonsŏ [c.n.] (Puryun [g.n.]; Sŏlwŏldang [l.n.]) 金敦敍 (富倫; 雪 月堂) ko 古 koae 孤哀 Kobong [l.n.] 高峯 (see Ki Taesŭng) kŏgyŏng/jijing 居敬 koja 孤子 kong/gong 公 Kongmun ŏnin rok 孔門言仁錄 Kosan 孤山 kuan 冠 (see also kat) kŭm 今 kungni/qiongli 窮理 kunja/junzi 君子 Kunzhi ji 困知記 kwe/gui 跪 kwejwasŏl 跪坐說

Glossary

231

Kwŏn Ch’unran [g.n.] (Hoegok [l.n.]) 權春蘭 (晦谷) Kwŏn Homun [g.n.] (Changjung [c.n.]) 權好文 (章仲) Kyemong chŏnŭi 啓蒙傳疑 Kyŏngdŏk (see Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk) kyŏng/jing 敬 kyŏnghak 敬學 kyŏngmul/gewu 格物 li (K. i) 理 Li Huishu 李晦叔 Li Tong [g.n.] (Yanping [l.n.]) 李侗 (延平) (known as “Master Yanping”) Li Yanping (see Li Tong) Lianxi (K. Yŏmgye) 濂溪 (see also Zhou Dunyi) Liezi 列子 Linyian tu 歷年圖 Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 Lü Ziyue [c.n.] (Zujian [g.n.]) 呂子約 (‌祖儉) Lü Zuqian [g.n.] (Bogong [c.n.]) 呂祖 謙 (伯恭) (also known as “Master Donglai”) Lunyu jizhu 論語集註 Luo Qinshun [g.n.] (Zhengan [l.n.]) 羅 欽順 (整菴) manggŏn 網巾 Mengzi jizhu 孟子集註 mibal/weifa 未發 Ming shi 明史 Mojae [l.n.] 慕齋 (see also Kim An’guk) Mozi 墨子 mukch’oe 墨衰 mulyok/wuyu 物欲 mun 免 Muo 戊午 muwi (see wuwei) myŏng/ming 名 myŏngi 明夷 Myŏngjong 明宗 Nam Sibo [c.n.] (Ŏn’gyŏng [g.n.]) 南時 甫 (彦經)

232

Glossary

Nanxuan [l.n.] (Zhang Shi [g.n.]) 南軒 (張栻) Ni 尼 Ni Qiu 尼丘 No Ijae [l.n.] (Susin [g.n.]; Sojae [second l.n.]) 盧伊齋 (守愼; 蘇齋) o/wu 悟 Ŏnhaengnok 言行錄 Ōtsuka Taiya 大塚退野 Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭmnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu 白沙詩敎傳習錄抄傳因書其後 Paengnoktonggyu chiphae 白鹿洞規集解 Pak (see Pak Yŏng) Pak Yŏng [g.n.] (Songdang [l.n.]) 朴英 (松堂) pal/fa 發 panjwa/panzuo 盤坐 Pi iki wi ilmul pyŏnjŭng 非理氣爲一物 辨證 ponyŏn chi sŏng/benran zhi xing 本然 之性 puje 附祭 Pukkye (see Beixi) puli/buli 不利 pulsŏn/bushan 不善 punsu/fenshu 分殊 p’yŏnik/bianyi 便益 Qi 齊 qi 氣. Qianlou 黔婁 Qiongshan 瓊山 (see Qiu Jun) Qiu 丘 Qiu Jun [g.n.] (Zhongshen [c.n.]; Shenan [l.n.]) 丘濬 (仲深; 深菴) Qiu Qiongshan 丘瓊山 (see Qiu Jun) ren 仁 ryu/lei 類 sa/shi 事 sa/si 似 sa/si 私 sadan/siduan 四端 saeng/sheng 生 saengdo/shengdao 生道 Sagyŏng [c.n.] (see Cho Sagyŏng)

sahwa 士禍 Sahyŏng [c.n.] (see Han Yunmyŏng) Samgyŏng sŏgŭi 三經釋義 sang/xiang 象 Sangbok sogi 喪服小記 sangt’u 상투 Sasŏ sŏgŭi 四書釋義 Satō Naokata 佐藤直方 sayok/siyu 私欲 Shangcai [c.n.] (see Xie Liangzuo) Shao Yong 邵雍 Shen (see Zengzi) Shijiao 詩敎 Shuliang He 叔梁紇 Shun 舜 Shushigaku 朱子學 sidong/shitong 尸童 sim/xin 心 Sima 緦麻 Sima Guang (Junshi [c.n.]) 司馬光 (君 實) (also known by his official title, Wengong 溫公) Sima Qian 司馬遷 simbŏp/xinfa 心法 Simgyŏng (see Xingjing) simhak/xinxue 心學 Simhak to 心學圖 simjidŏk/xinzhide 心之德 Sim mu ch’eyong pyŏn 心無體用辨 Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl 心統性情圖說 sinju 神主 Sishu xingli ziyi 四書性理字義 Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk [g.n.] (Hwadam [cn.]) 徐 敬德 (花潭) sobok 素服 sodangyŏn/sodangran 所當然 Sogong 小功 soiyŏn/soyiran 所以然 Sojaejip 蘇齋集 sŏlchŏn’gu 設奠具 Sŏlwŏldangjip 雪月堂集 sŏn/shan 善 sŏng/cheng 誠 sŏng/xing 性

Songdang (see Pak Yŏng) Songge Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok 宋季元 明理學通錄 Sŏnggyun’gwan 成均館 Sŏnghak sipto 聖學十圖 sŏngnihak/xinglixue 性理學 sŏng chi ponsŏn/xing zhi benshan 性之 本善 sŏng chi ponyŏn/xing zhi benran 性之 本然 Song shi 宋史 sŏnsaeng 先生 Su Dongpo 蘇東坡 Su Jiming [c.n.] (Bing [g.n.]) 蘇季明 (‌昞) Sukhŭng yamaejam 夙興夜寐箴 Taijitu shuo (K. T’aegŭkto sŏl) 太極圖說 T’aegŭkto sŏl (see Taijitu shuo) Tang 湯 tanjwa/duanzuo 端坐 Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 tianming zhi xing 天命之性 Tiaoxi zhen (K. Chosikjam) 調息箴 t’oe 退 T’oegye [l.n.] (退溪; see also Yi Hwang [g.n.]) tohak/daoxue 道學 Tongshu (K. T’ongsŏ) 通書 T’ongsŏ (see Tongshu) tosim/daoxin 道心 tŭng 等 ŭi/yi 義 ŭijwa/yizuo 椅坐 Ŭirye (see Yili) uje 虞祭 Ŭlsa sahwa 乙巳士禍 Ŭnggil [c.n.] (應吉; see Hong Inu [g.n.]) Waishu 外書 Wan Zhang 萬章 Wang Anshi [g.n.] (Jiefu [c.n.]) 王安石 (介甫) Wang Yangming 王陽明 Wang Yuanze 王元澤

Glossary

233

Wending [l.n.] (see Hu Anguo) Wengong 溫公 (see Sima Guang) Wengong 文公 (see Zhu Xi) wijwa/weizuo 危坐 wip’an 位板 Wufeng [l.n.] (see Hu Wufeng) wuji 無極 wuwei (K. muwi) 無爲 Xi ming 西銘 Xiaoci lu 孝慈錄 Xiaojing 孝經 Xiaoxue 小學 Xie Liangzuo (Shangcai [c.n.]) 謝良佐 (‌上蔡) Xingli daquan 性理大全 Xinjing (K. Simgyŏng) 心經 xinxue 心學 Xu Heng (Luzhai [l.n.]) 許衡 (魯齋) Yamazaki Ansai 山崎闇齋 Yan Yuan [c.n.] (Hui [g.n.]) 顔淵 (回) (see also Yanzi) Yan Zhengzai 顔徵在 yang 陽 Yang Shi [g.n.] (Guishan [l.n.]) 楊時 (‌龜山) Yanping 延平 (see Li Tong) Yanping dawen 延平答問 Yanzi 顔子 (see also Yan Yuan) Yao 堯 ye/li 禮 Yi Cham 李潛 Yi Chongdo 李宗道 Yi Hang [g.n.] (Iljae [c.n.]) 李恒 (一齋) Yi Hwang [g.n.] (T’oegye [l.n.]) 李滉 (‌退溪) Yi I [g.n.] (Yulgok [l.n.]; Sukhŏn [c.n.] ) 李珥 (栗谷; 淑獻) Yi Iljae [l.n.] (Hang [g.n.]) 李一齋 (恒) Yi Kŏn 李騫 Yi Kyŏngso [c.n.] (Mun’gyu [g.n.]) 李 景昭 (文奎) Yi Ŏnjŏk [g.n.] (Hoejae [c.n.]) 李彦迪 (‌晦齋) Yi shuo 易說

234

Glossary

Yi Sukhŏn [c.n.] (see Yi I) Yi Taeyong [c.n.] (Sukryang [g.n.]) 李 大用 (叔樑) Yi T’oegye [l.n.] (see Yi Hwang) Yi Yulgok [l.n.] (see Yi I) Yili (K. Ŭirye) 儀禮 yin 陰 Yŏmgye (see Lianxi) yong/yong 用 You Dingfu (see You Zuo) You Zuo [g.n.] (Dingfu [c.n.]) 游酢 (‌定 夫) yu/you 有 Yu 禹 Yu Kyŏngsu [g.n.] (T’aeho [c.n.]) 柳景 深 (太浩) Yu T’aeho (see Yu Kyŏngsu) Yuezheng Zichun 樂正子春 (also known as Yuezheng Zi 樂正子) Yukchoso 六條疏 Yulgok [l.n.] (see Yi Yulgok) Zechen zhi wen 責沈之文 Zeng Zezhi 曾擇之 Zengzi (Shen [g.n.]) 曾子 (參 ) Zhang Zai 張載 Zhangju 章句 (see Daxue zhangju and Zhongyong zhangju) Zhao Gean [l.n.] (Shunsun [g.n.]) 趙格 菴 (順孫) Zhen Dexiu [g.n.] (Xishan [l.n.]) 眞德 秀 (西山) Zhen Xishan (see Zhen Dexiu) Zhengmeng 正蒙

Zhiyan 知言 Zhonggong [c.n.] (Ran Yong) 仲弓 (冉 雍) Zhongyong yi 中庸義 Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句 Zhou Dunyi [g.n.] ([Master] Lianxi) 周 敦頤 (濂溪) Zhouguan 周官 Zhouzi quanshu 周子全書 Zhu (state) 楚 Zhu Xi [g.n.] (Huian [l.n.]) 朱熹 (晦庵) (also known as Zhuzi 朱子 or by his official title, Wengong) Zhu Yuanzhang 朱元璋 (Ming emperor Hongwu 洪武) Zhuang Zhou 莊周 (see also Zhuangzi) Zhuangzi 莊子 Zhuzi 朱子 (“Master Zhu”; see also Zhu Xi) Zhuzi daqaun 朱子大全 Zhuzi jizhu 朱子集註 Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書 Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 Zigong [c.n.] (Duanmu Ci [g.n.]) 子貢 (‌端木賜) Zilu [c.n.] (Zhong You [g.n.]) 子路 (仲 由) Zisi 子思 Zixia [c.n.] (Bu Shang [g.n.]) 子夏(卜商) Ziyou [c.n.] (Yan Yan [g.n.]) 子游 (言 偃) Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 Zuowang (K. chwamang) 坐忘

Bibliography

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Index

Abe Yoshio, 5, 148n.8, 148nn.11–13, 151n.40 Academy of Korean Studies, xi Analects, xvi, 5, 18, 20, 36–37, 40, 97, 148n.3, 155n.95, 158n.1, 161n.19, 162n.24, 167nn.59–60, 167n.62, 167nn.64–65, 171nn.90–91, 172n.92, 174n.105, 182n.142, 184n.155, 187n.170, 187n.177, 188n.181, 189n.189, 190nn.193–195, 191n.196, 212n.334 Analogy: of bear and fish in Mencius, 145, 226n.429; of mountains and streams in Analects, 84, 187n.171, 187n.173, 188n.181; water, by Cheng Hao and Zhu Xi, 28, 71, 177n.114, 188n.181 Ancestral, 58–62, 164n.32; rites according to Zhu Xi, 59–61, 164n.43, 165n.46; rites in Korea, 155n.94, 165n.47, 170n.85; ritual according to Confucius, 180n.129; ritual table according to ritual books, 199n.247 (see also Family Rituals; filial piety); shrine, 155n.94, 164n.40, 166n.48; tablets, 58–59; T’oegye on rites, 58–62, 181n.131. See also funeral rites; ritual propriety Answers to Questions on the Great Learning (Daxue huowen) (by Zhu Xi), 66–67, 92, 100, 133–134, 139, 165n.45, 170n.84, 194n.217, 202n.263. See also Great Learning Arousal (aroused): before emotions/feelings are, 88; function of mind after emotions/feelings are, 39, 43; from original goodness of human nature, 126; original mind before feelings/ emotions are, 28, 177n.117; unmanifested (manifested) state (of mind) before (after) feelings are, 69, 110, 172, 174n.101. See also Four (Beginnings); manifesting/manifested; Seven Emotions Arrogance and laziness, as mentioned in Great Learning, 103–104, 203n.278

Benefit, in comparison with righteousness, 107–108, 114, 205n.292. See also righteousness Benevolence (in/ren), 71, 84–85, 93, 187n.70. See also human-heartedness Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. See Four (Beginnings); human nature Bloom, Irene, 153n.62, 220n.381 Book of Changes, xvi, 6, 14, 18, 65, 71, 76, 107– 108, 131, 167n.63, 168n.68, 175n.110, 185n.160, 204n.290, 205n.291, 219n.374, 222n.393, 222n.399 Book of History, xvi, 18, 107, 109, 208n.298; on moral mind and human mind, 192n.205 (Book of) Mencius, xvi. See also Mencius Book of Music, 81, 104 Book of Poetry, 18, 109, 208n.298 Book of Rites, xvi, 40, 55, 57, 59, 61, 104. See also ritual propriety Boston Confucianism, 158n.127 Buddha, Shakyamuni, 17, 30–31, 35, 90, 112; T’oegye’s criticism of, 30, 73, 101, 123, 162nn.19–20, 178n.119, 193n.207, 203n.272, 215n.351 Buddhism, 3, 82, 100, 154n.82; criticized by T’oegye, 17, 29–32, 40, 43, 98, 155n.87, 162nn.20–21, 193n.210, 198n.241, 201n.261, 209n.312; Yulgok’s study of, 20, 29, 201n.262, 203n.272. See also Zen Buddhism Buswell, Robert, ix, xi, 198n.242 Cai Jiezhai [l.n.] (Yuan [g.n.]), 135, 222n.405 Chan, Wing-tsit, xvi, 39, 147n.2, 151n.43, 163n.30, 168n.72, 173n.97, 175n.108, 179n.123, 191n.202, 192n.206, 196n.230, 202n.269, 207n.297, 208n.301, 215n.350, 216n.357 Chen Baisha. See Chen Xianzhang Chen Beixi. See Chen Chun

245

246

Index

Chen Chun (Anqing [c.n.]; Beixi [l.n.]), 65–66, 82, 134, 168n.71, 186n.162, 222n.402; criticized by T’oegye, 82, 186n.164 Chen Xianzhang (Baisha [l.n.]), 16, 32, 151n.43, 152n.46; influenced by Zen, 16, 32; Instructions through Poetry (Shijiao), 15–16, 152n.46; T’oegye’s critique of, 15–16, 32 Cheng Hao (Master Mingdao), 23, 27, 30, 68–69, 91, 100, 148n.4, 173n.96, 175n.110, 177n.115, 185n.160, 194n.213, 201n.261, 227n.434; on clarity and turbidity of water, 27, 71, 176n.114; on good and evil in terms of physical endowment, 27, 176n.114; on human nature, inborn ki, and evil, 27, 175n.111, 176n.114, 219n.369; on reverence, 174n.100, 194n.212 Cheng masters (brothers), two, 27, 42, 69, 82, 126 Cheng Yi (Master Yichuan), 23, 37–39, 67– 69, 72, 103, 122, 144, 148n.4, 171n.87, 173nn.99–100, 175n.108, 181n.132, 183n.146, 189n.187, 198n.238; on “empty and tranquil . . . ,” 130–132, 221n.389; on human nature as principle, 178n.118; on investigation of things, 197n.233, 203n.275; original goodness of human nature, 172n.94. See also Cheng-Zhu; reverence; selfcultivation; single-mindedness Cheng-Zhu, 2, 4, 12, 15–16, 32, 34; doctrine of mind cultivation, 41, 203n.271, 204n.282, 215n.351; orthodoxy (NeoConfucianism), 17, 43, 179n.124, 182n.136, 193n.210 (see also Chujahak); school (teaching/texts), 161n.15, 162n.23, 178nn.117–118, 180n.128, 188n.183, 198n.239. See also Cheng Hao; Cheng Yi; Chŏngjuhak; Zhu Xi Ching, Julia, 151n.43, 154n.82, 158nn.125– 126, 159n.3, 173n.95, 201n.257, 201n.261 Cho, Hwisang, 150n.27 Chŏng Chajung, 7, 10, 22–23, 27, 29, 32–33, 35–38, 40, 63–64, 67–68, 70, 74, 76, 79, 118, 124, 130, 134–135, 141–142; T’oegye’s eight letters to, 63–83; T’oegye’s letter to and Ki Myŏngŏn, 130–135 Chŏng Chiun (Chŏngi [c.n.]; Ch’uman [l.n.]), 14, 122, 141; on Four and Seven, 125, 129, 213n.342, 213n.345, 225n.421

Chŏngjuhak (Cheng-Zhu school), in Korea, 4. See also Chujahak; Orthodoxy; Sŏngnihak Chosŏn dynasty, 4, 18–20, 33, 148n.9, 159nn.5–7, 165n.44, 166n.58, 227n.432 Chujahak (Zhu Xi school). See Chŏngjuhak Chung, Edward Y. J., 26, 149n.15, 150n.31, 151n.34, 156n.103, 156n.110, 163n.25, 173n.95, 178n.117, 183n.147, 186n.164, 189n.186, 192n.205, 193n.208, 194n.215, 209n.304, 210n.320, 221n.383 Classic for the Mind-and-Heart (Xinjing) (by Zhen Dexiu), 12, 150n.30, 184n.152, 189n.185, 192n.205, 210n.319. See also Zhen Dexiu Classic for the Mind-and-Heart Supplemented and Annotated (Xinjing fuzhu), 150n.30 Classic of Filial Piety (Xiaojing) (by Zhu Xi), 155n.96, 164n.43, 172n.91, 180n.129 Collected Commentaries by Master Zhu Xi (Zhuzi jizhu), 84 Collected Commentaries on the Analects (Lunyu jizhu) (by Zhu Xi), 187n.174, 199n.248, 200n.254, 224n.413 Collected Commentaries on the (Doctrine of) the Mean (Zhongyong zhangju), 192n.205, 224n.413 Collected Commentaries on the Four Books (by Zhu Xi), 139, 187n.174, 224n.413 Collected Commentaries on the Great Learning (Daxue zhangju) (by Zhu Xi), 224n.413 Collected Commentaries on the Mencius (Mengzi jizhu), 187n.174, 224n.413 Collected Interpretation of the White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules (Paengnoktonggyu chiphae) (by Pak Yŏng), 107, 114, 204n.289, 205n.290, 205n.292, 208n.297. See also White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules “Commentary on an Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate” (by Zhu Xi), 130 Commiseration (compassion), shame and dislike, courtesy and modesty, and discernment of right and wrong, 27, 126, 216n.356, 218n.367. See also Four (Beginnings) Commiseration (mind-and-heart of), 27, 81, 126, 175n.108, 216n.356 Compassion, mind-and-heart of, 71; as beginning of human-heartedness, 175n.108; Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi on, 175n.108

Complete works of Chen Beixi (Beixi quan­ shu), 168n.71 Concentrating on one thing. See single-mindedness Confucius, xvi, 2, 4, 34, 40, 89, 95, 97, 104–105, 116, 158n.1, 161n.19, 162n.24, 167nn.59–60, 167n.62, 167n.64, 187n.170, 188n.181, 190n.193, 212n.334; disciples of, as role models of self-cultivation, 35–36, 155n.95, 172nn.91–92, 174n.105, 182n.142, 185n.161, 192n.206, 211n.326 (see also Yan Yuan, Zengzi, and Zigong); on hearing the Way, 20; on humanheartedness (in/ren), 109, 195n.219, 197n.232; human-heartedness and propriety taught by, 36–37, 68, 155n.95, 171n.90, 172n.92, 182n.142, 187n.177, 192n.206, 195n.219, 208n.302; one single thread of teaching, 36, 68, 108–109, 114–115, 117, 121, 128; on reverence, 40, 191n.196; on self-cultivation, 35–36, 180n.130, 189n.189, 192n.203 (see also self-cultivation); on three-fold reflection, threefold treasuring, and four-fold prohibition, 123, 190nn.194–195, 214n.350; about the Way (of Heaven), 162n.24, 167n.59, 208n.297. See also Analects; benevolence; human-heartedness Cravings/desires, 29, 38, 42; human, 28, 90, 114, 154n.77, 193n.209, 210n.320; material, 41–42, 87; potentially evil, 221n.383; selfish, 29, 35, 42, 44, 192n.205; stimulated by ki, 29. See also emotions; heaven’s principle; Seven Emotions “Critique of Wang’s Instructions for Practical Living” (Chŏnsŭmnok nonbyŏn) (by T’oegye), 16, 32, 155n.88, 178n.119 Cultivated person (or superior person; kunja/junzi), 36, 81, 92, 93, 104, 107, 114, 155n.96, 158n.1, 172nn.90–91, 174n.105, 184n.155, 196n.222, 211n.329. See also self-cultivation Daoism, 30–31, 154n.82; Cheng Yi’s critique of, 31, 173n.97, 189n.187, 194n.211; criticized by T’oegye, 30–32, 40, 43, 90, 189n.187, 193n.210, 210n.312; of Laozi, 31, 90, 112, 145, 162n.21, 193n.210; of Liezi, 31, 90; of Zhuangzi, 31, 90, 145, 162n.21, 189n.187, 193n.210 Daoist: method of “forgetting in sitting”

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criticized by T’oegye, 31, 32, 43, 87, 90–91, 155n.86, 162n.21, 175n.97, 189n.187, 195n.221; teaching of non-action (wuwei), 31, 52, 161n.21, 193n.207, 210n.312 De Bary, Wm. T., 4, 44, 147n.2 (Note on Transliteration), 148n.8, 150n.30, 151n.39, 152n.46, 152n.56, 153n.72, 154n.78, 155n.92, 160n.12, 170n.83, 176n.112, 183n.147, 192n.205, 201n.257, 201n.261, 210n.319, 224n.417 Diagram of Family Rites (Jiali tu), 58. See also ancestral; ritual propriety Diagrammatic Explanation of the Great Ultimate (Taijitu shuo) (by Zhou Dunyi), 168n.69, 220n.375, 221n.391, 222n.406 “Diagrammatic Explanation of the Mandate of Heaven” (Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl) (by T’oegye), 13–14, 157n.121, 161n.12, 213n.345, 217n.359, 225nn.421–422 Doctrine of the Mean, xvi, 18, 26, 110–111, 126–128, 151n.44, 211n.326; before (after) arousal of feelings in, 172n.95, 174n.101, 209n.304; being cautious and being apprehensive in, 39, 123; centrality and harmony in, 128, 172n.95, 174n.103, 209n.304, 209n.306, 220n.378; on human nature endowed by heaven, 26, 126. See also Seven Emotions Dong Zhongshu, 107, 205n.290 Ebrey, Patricia, 164n.43, 166n.49, 180n.129 Elementary Learning (Xiaoxue) (by Zhu Xi), interpreted by T’oegye, 58–59, 96, 109, 165n.45, 198n.243 Emotions/feelings, xiv, 3, 13, 44, 69, 72, 81, 85, 93, 100, 103; before/after arousal of, 69, 88, 172n.95, 174n.101, 177n.117, 190n.192, 191n.200, 209n.304, 218n.364 (see also arousal; manifesting/manifested); in Doctrine of the Mean, 110; in Four-Seven debate, 18, 175n.108; human nature and, 21, 26, 147, 157n.123, 158n.159, 170n.83, 176n.111, 178nn.117–118; in terms of i and ki, 69, 128–129; regarding Seven Emotions, 16, 26–27, 123, 125, 127, 147, 151–152 (see also Seven); and self-cultivation, 104, 153n.69, 174n.101, 183n.147, 216n.357, 218n.364; stimulated externally and aroused within, 39, 42, 67, 73. See also cravings/desires; Four (Beginnings); Seven Emotions

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Er-Cheng quanshu (Complete works of the two Cheng brothers), xvi, 155n.86, 172n.97, 189n.187, 194n.213, 214n.348 Essentials of Master Zhu’s correspondence (Chujasŏ chŏryo), 9, 14–15, 20, 161n.16; T’oegye and Japanese scholars influenced by, 15 Ethical humanism, 158n.126 Etiquette and Rites (Yili), 59–60, 166n.49. See also ancestral; funeral rites; ritual propriety Evil: and water analogy, 27, 71–72; Cheng Hao on inborn ki and, 71, 219n.369. See also ki/qi Extension of knowledge, 10, 16, 110–111, 152n.46, 179n.121 Family Rituals (Jiali) (by Zhu Xi), 58–59, 160n.129, 164n.43, 170n.85. See also ancestral; funeral rites; ritual propriety Filial piety, 57, 64, 97, 106, 167n.65, 200n.253; and ancestral ritual propriety (Zhang Zai), 180n.129; and reverence, 165n.43, 180n.129. See also ancestral; funeral rites; ritual propriety Fingarette, Herbert, 158n.126 Five Classics, xvi, 6, 204n.290 Four (Beginnings), 13, 15–16, 123, 125, 128–129, 141; aroused from original essence of human nature, 126; as commiseration, shame and dislike, courtesy and modesty, and discernment of right and wrong, 27, 126, 216n.356; issue (aroused) from i, 214n.345, 225n.421; as manifestations of (aroused from) i, 214n.345, 225n.421; Mencius on, 26–27, 126–127, 151n.44, 175n.108, 216nn.355–356; as moral feelings, 218n.367; as moral seeds of self-cultivation, 27, 216n.356 (see also self-cultivation); pertain to original human nature, 26, 126 (see also Original human nature); refer principally to i, 26–27, 126. See also Four-Seven; human nature Four Beginnings and Seven Emotions, 13, 15–16, 26–27, 123, 125, 128–129, 147n.2 (Preface), 151n.34, 152n.51, 153n.61, 212n.336, 213n.342; different origins and meanings of, 27, 127, 220n.382; as distinguishable, 219n.367; good and evil regarding, 18, 26, 28 (see also good and evil; evil); as heaven’s principle and human cravings, respectively,

129; as manifestations of i and ki, respectively, 129, 214n.345, 219n.373, 225n.421; as original human nature and physical human nature, respectively, 26–27, 126, 217n.364; separable in terms of i and ki, 16, 125; and what principally refers to, 126; Zhu Xi on, 127, 129, 221n.384. See also Four-Seven Four Books, xvi, 2, 18, 139, 165n.45, 168n.71, 184n.152, 187n.174, 224n.413, 224n.417 Four-Seven: debate (theory/statement), 16, 19, 37, 43, 120, 141, 151n.44, 153n.69, 175n.108, 213n.342; letters/debate (between T’oegye and Kobong), 14, 16–17, 19, 23–25, 28, 41, 147nn.1–2 (Preface), 154n.75, 156n.92, 156n.100, 161n.12, 178n.117, 179n.122, 186n.166, 190n.192, 193n.209, 202n.264, 209n.304, 210n.317, 212n.336, 215n.355, 224n.419, 225n.421; thesis in terms of i and ki, ix, 18, 19, 23; and Yulgok, 175n.108. See also Four Beginnings and Seven Emotions Fujiwara Seika, 4 Funeral rites (and clothing), 55–60, 163n.27, 163nn.32–33, 164n.40, 164n.42, 166n.54, 166n.57; Book of Rites on, 55, 57, 61, 199n.247; Confucius on propriety of, 180n.129; in Elementary Records of Funeral-and-Mourning Clothes (Sangbok sogi), 61–62; in Records of Filial Piety and Benevolence, 57; Zhu Xi on ancestral and, 60–61, 165. See also ancestral; Confucius; ritual propriety Gaozi, and Mencius on mind, 176n.111, 191n.202. See also Mencius Gardner, Daniel, 152n.56, 154n.82, 155n.92, 156n.106, 160n.12, 170n.83, 176n.112, 187n.174, 193n.208 GongSun Chou (Mencius’ disciple), and his self-cultivation, 82 Good and evil, 18, 24, 26–28, 71–72, 92, 105, 128, 175–176, 178, 218–219; in aroused emotions/feelings, 218n.364 (see also emotions; arousal); Cheng Hao and Zhu Xi on inborn ki and, 175n.111, 176n.114, 219n.369; regarding Four and Seven, 26, 27–28, 128 (see also Four-Seven); human nature and, 20, 126, 153n.70, 175n.108 (see also human nature); in physical human nature, 175n.108, 219n.369. See also cravings/ desires; emotions/feelings; evil

Great Compendium of Works by Master Zhu Xi. See Zhuzi daquan Great Learning (Daxue), xvi, 18, 34, 100, 109, 111, 160n.12, 162n.19, 165n.34, 170n.84, 179n.122, 189n.185, 194n.21, 197n.233, 202n.263, 202n.269, 203n.278, 204n.282, 208n.300, 209n.305, 209n.309, 211n.322, 211n.324, 211n.327, 212n.332 Great (Neo-Confucian) Compendium on Human Nature and Principle (Xingli daquan), 6, 135, 149n.17 Great Ultimate, T’oegye on, 65, 128, 131, 145, 169n.79, 179n.81. See also Zhou Dunyi Great Vacuity, 14, 151n.37 Haboush, JaHyun Kim, 148n.8, 150n.24, 151n.39 Hayashi Razan, 5, 15. See also Shushigaku; Tokugawa Japan Heaven, 7, 112, 134, 142, 161n.19, 189n.188, 196n.230; and earth, 39, 71, 112, 115, 133, 175n.110, 197n.230, 216n.357, 218n.363; human nature endowed by (see human nature); Mandate of, 13–14, 135, 145, 157n.121, 161n.12, 213n.345, 217n.359, 217n.361, 226n.430; unity (oneness) between, and human beings, 157n.125; Way of, 111, 162n.24, 165n.43, 209n.311. See also heaven’s principle Heaven’s principle, 21, 26, 28–29, 41, 44, 52, 114, 133, 157n.121, 171n.89, 174n.102, 184n.155, 192n.205, 198n.244; hold fast to, 44; moral transcendence of, 29, 221n.383; preserving, (and suppressing selfish cravings,) 29, 42, 161n.15, 221n.383; and self-cultivation, 29, 227n.430; and (selfish) human cravings, 28–29, 41–42, 90, 114, 129, 193n.209, 210n.320, 220n.383. See also i/li; self-cultivation; simhak/xinxue Hick, John, 158n.125 Highest good, abiding in, 115, 158n.127, 209n.205 Hongmun’gwan, 160n.8, 227n.432 Hu Anguo (Kanghou [c.n.]; Wending [l.n.]), 82, 143, 186n.167, 213n.338, 225n.426 Huian, 51–52, 54, 67, 94, 111, 143. See also Zhu Xi Human-heartedness (in/ren), 33, 38, 70, 104, 167n.65, 180n.130, 182n.140, 187n.172, 192n.206, 208n.302, 215n.350; com-

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249

passion as beginning of, 175n.108; Confucius’ doctrine of, 68, 109, 195n.219, 197n.232; and propriety, 36, 155n.95, 171n.90, 182n.142; Yan Yuan’s practice of, 36, 68, 172n.92. See also benevolence Human nature, xiv–xviii, 25–28, 148n.5; consisting of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom, 126; and emotions and feelings, 3, 21, 26–28, 125, 152n.51, 157n.124, 183n.147, 192n.205, 201n.257; endowed by Heaven, 26, 126, 217n.361; Four as original essence (goodness) of, 26, 126; and Four-Seven relationship, 16, 18, 26, 125–127; original goodness (essence) of, 26, 126, 172n.94, 175n.108, 177n.114, 217nn.362–363; as principle (i), 18, 26; principle of, 71–72. See also Mencius; original human nature; physical human nature Hwadam. See Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk Hwang (T’oegye’s given name), 50, 74, 77–79, 82, 87, 94–95, 99, 101, 104, 119 Hwang Chunggŏ, 22, 24, 29, 30, 34, 36, 107, 114, 153n60, 155n.92, 159n.7, 204n.287; T’oegye’s two letters to, 107–117 I/li (principle), xiii, xiv–xv, 10, 14, 17, 21–22, 34, 42, 51, 72, 103, 125, 130–131, 133–134, 148n.5; formless (metaphysical), 22, 73; Four issued (aroused) from (see Four [Beginnings]); as ground of being, xiv, 22, 65, 123, 162n.23; of mind, 18, 23, 65; moral, 37, 64, 66, 78, 87, 95–96, 102, 104, 112, 118, 121, 123, 127, 138, 142–143, 184n.155, 205n.291, 206n.284; one, 23, 65, 117, 170n.83; oneness of, and diversity of its manifestation, 23, 26, 152n.56, 170n.83; original essence of, 24, 128; philosophy of, 22–26, 44, 66, 152n.37, 162n.23, 176n.112; self-manifesting, 25–26, 44; transcendent, virtuous, and spiritual reality of, 25, 44, 162n.23; of Way, 34, 80, 96, 103, 115. See also heaven’s principle; human nature; investigation of principles; ki/qi I/li and ki/qi, 14, 22, 25, 63–64, 123, 151n.35, 162n.23, 178n.117; distinguishable and separable, 22, 24–25, 63–64, 127–128; Four-Seven relationship in terms of (see Four-Seven); regarding good and evil, 24, 128; Luo Qinshun’s view

250

Index

of, 220n.381 (see also Luo Qinshun); mutual inseparability of, 24, 217n.360, 219n.372, 220n.380; Zhu Xi on, 14, 18, 21, 24, 162n.23, 215n.354, 217n.360. See also i/li; ki/qi Interpretation of the Four Books (Sasŏ sŏgŭi) (by T’oegye), 18 Interpretation of the Three Classics (Samgyŏng sŏgŭi) (by T’oegye), 18 Investigation of principles (things), 17, 32, 34–35, 39, 51–52, 65, 94–95, 102–106, 109, 133, 152n.46, 155n.92, 160n.12, 179n.122, 203nn.275–276, 204n.282; with abiding in reverence, 39, 76, 99–100, 201n.259 (see also reverence); Cheng-Zhu doctrine of, 94, 103, 152n.46, 155n.92, 197n.233; T’oegye’s discussion of, 32, 34, 74, 94–95, 99, 102–106, 109, 133 Jade Hall, 50, 145, 227n.432 Jinsi lu (Reflections on things at hand), xvi, 130, 152n.53, 156n.99, 156n.106, 156n.113, 157n.117, 163n.30, 165n.43, 171n.87, 171n.89, 172n.94, 173n.99, 174n.100, 174n.102, 174n.104, 180n.129, 181n.132, 182n.143, 186n.168, 191n.200, 194nn.212–213, 198n.244, 204n.287, 205n.290, 206n.293, 210n.313, 212n.335, 221nn.387–389, 227n.434 Kalton, Michael, 147nn.1–2 (Preface), 148n.8, 151n.33, 155n.92, 157n.115, 161n.12, 175n.108 Keum (Kŭm), Jangtae (Changt’ae), 148n.8, 187n.177 Ki Chŏngja, 118. See also Ki Taesŭng; Kobong Ki Myŏngŏn, 125, 130, 132, 133–134, 136, 141, 150n.27, 212n.336, 215n.355, 221n.386, 222n.407, 224n.418. See also Kobong Ki Taesŭng (Myŏngŏn [c.n.]; Kobong [l.n.]). See Kobong Ki/qi (material force), xv, 14, 22, 81, 128; Cheng Hao on evil and inborn, 71, 176n.114; in contrast to i/li, 22, 123; evil tendency in inborn, 71, 219n.369; material, physical, and psychological world of, 25, 44, 162n.23 (see also cravings; Seven Emotions); and physical endowment, 72, 175n.111; Seven issued from (see manifesting/mani-

fested; Seven Emotions); in teachings of Confucius and Mencius, 128. See also good and evil; physical human nature Kim, Sun Joo, 149n.24 Kim Tonsŏ, 7, 10–11, 28–29, 31–32, 36, 38–42, 55, 59, 81, 87, 148n.6, 149n.22, 151n.32, 154n.77, 156n.109, 160n.11, 164n.27, 183n.152, 188n.185, 199n.247, 200n.255; T’oegye’s letter to, 87–98 King Chungjong, 8 King Myŏngjong, 6 King Sŏnjo, 12 Kobong, 3, 9, 11–12, 14, 16, 19, 20, 22–30, 32–33, 36–40, 42, 132, 150n.27, 153n.61, 159n.7, 212n.336, 213n.343, 215n.355, 217n.359, 221n.386, 222n.408, 223n.410, 224n.419, 226n.428, 227nn.433–434; FourSeven debate with T’oegye, 17, 19, 21–23, 213n.342, 214n.345, 217n.357, 225n.421; T’oegye’s advice to, 19–20, 37; T’oegye’s criticism of his theory of i and ki, 25, 218n.364, 219nn.372–373, 220nn.381–383; T’oegye’s two letters to, 118–129, 141–146. See also Ki Chŏngja; Ki Myŏngŏn Kunzhi ji (Knowledge painfully acquired) (by Luo Qinshun), 25, 153n.62. See also Luo Qinshun Kwŏn Homun (Changjung [c.n.]), 32, 35, 41, 79, 84, 156n.112, 182n.138, 187n.170, 197n.235 Laozi, 31, 90, 112, 145, 162n.21, 193n.207, 210n.312. See also Daoism; Daoist Lau, D. C., xvi, 147n.2 (Note to Transliteration), 148n.3, 151n.44, 153n.67, 156n.105, 160n.11, 162n.24, 167nn.59– 60, 172n.92, 172n.94, 175n.105, 184n.157, 185n.161, 191n.196, 191n.199, 191n.202, 195n.220, 203n.280, 207nn.295–296, 214nn.346– 347, 226n.429 Learning (Confucian), 32, 40, 43, 49, 54, 63–64, 111, 130–135, 143; defect of, 33–34, 37, 54, 76, 117, 130, 160n.11, 167n.66, 180n.128, 182n.142, 186n.164, 197n.234, 200n.256, 213n.343 (see also T’oegye’s criticism of taking “shortcut” approach to “quick success”); of mind-and-heart (see simhak/xinxue); reverence as master of (see reverence); for (of) sagehood (see sage-

hood; sŏnghak); and self-cultivation as lifelong endeavour, 68, 76, 100; Zhu Xi on, 40, 170n.83, 171n.87, 226n.427 Legge, James, 156n.98, 163n.28, 167n.63, 171n.88, 192n.205, 197n.237, 198n.244, 205nn.291–292, 216n.357, 220n.374 Li Tong (Yanping [l.n.]), 14, 23, 34–35, 54, 67, 81, 90, 94, 103, 138, 155n.93, 162n.25, 163n.26, 170n.82, 185n.159, 203n.274, 203n.276, 223n.411; on quiet sitting and mind cultivation, 198n.245; T’oegye influenced by, 193n.208, 199n.245, 223n.411. See also Yanping dawen Lianxi. See Zhou Dunyi Literati purges, T’oegye on, 10, 150n.29, 223n.410. See also T’oegye, on political corruption and selfish profits Lu Xiangshan, 16, 168n.71 Lü Ziyue (Zujian [g.n.]), 69, 89, 174n.104, 191n.200 Lü Zuqian [g.n.] (Bogong [c.n.]; Master Donglai), 112, 152n.53, 174n.104, 191n.200, 210n.313, 222n.399; Zhu Xi’s letter to, 131–132 Luo Qinshun, 24; Kobong influenced by, 25; T’oegye’s criticism of, 25, 220n.381, 227n.433; on oneness of i and ki, 25, 227n.433 Manifesting/manifested: before (mibal/ weifa) or after (ibal/ifa), 69, 174n.103, 184n.156, 185n.159, 217n.357; original mind before, 28, 178n.117 (see also mind); Zhu Xi on, 69, 178n.117, 184n.156. See also arousal Meaning and Etiquette of Family Rites (by Qiu Qiongshan), 55, 57, 163n.30. See also ritual propriety Mencius (or Mencius), xvi, 2, 4, 18, 37–38, 41, 90, 104, 145, 156n.101, 156n.105, 157n.114, 160n.11, 185n.158, 185n.161, 189n.188; bear-fish analogy by (see analogy); on Four Beginnings, 24, 26, 87, 126–127, 216n.356 (see also Four [Beginnings]); mind cultivation by holding onto mind, 172n.94, 181n.132, 184n.157, 200n.256; on original goodness of human nature, 24, 26, 126, 175n.108, 217nn.362–363; on preserving (mind) and nourishing (human nature), 38, 51, 95, 172n.94, 200n.256, 226n.430; against taking shortcut to self-cultivation, 37. See also

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on self-cultivation, 26, 145, 185n.161, 191n.202, 194n.214 Mind (or mind-and-heart), xiv–xv, 17–18, 26, 28, 31, 33, 38, 41, 65, 116, 168n.68, 171n.89, 174n.102, 178n.117; commands (unites and apprehends) human nature and feelings, 17, 154n.75, 176n.111, 178n.117, 209n.304; of commiseration, shame and dislike, courtesy and modesty, and right and wrong (see Four); consists of (unites) i and ki, 18, 72; -in-itself, 28, 72, 87, 178n.117; manifested (unmanifested) state of, 69, 172n.94 (see also aroused/ arousal; manifesting/manifested); as master of self (body), 23, 28, 65, 67, 88; original, 28, 72, 190n.192; original substance of, 28, 81; substance (and function) of, 66, 71, 178n.117. See also emotions; Four (Beginnings); mind cultivation; single-mindedness Mind cultivation, 5, 13, 28, 30, 38, 52, 152n.46, 154n.74, 157n.114, 157n.123, 183n.147; Confucius and Mencius on, 160n.11, 172n.94, 181n.132, 184n.157, 194n.212, 200n.256; by “holding it [mind] and preserving it,” 38, 77, 79–80, 156n.106, 184n.156, 198n.239; by “holding onto mind,” 33, 39, 95, 156n.106, 172n.94, 181n.132, 184n.157, 200n.256; and mind concentration, 30, 32, 37, 91, 95, 120; by “preserving mind,” 51, 84, 95, 101; by preserving (mind) and nourishing (human nature) (see Mencius); with reverence, 41, 84, 157n.123, 194n.212 (see also reverence); Zhu Xi on, 41, 184n.156. See also self-cultivation; simhak/xinxue; single-mindedness Ming shi (History of the Ming dynasty), 163n.30 Moral mind and human mind, 210n.317, 223n.409; distinction of, 154n.77, 192n.205; as heaven’s principle and human cravings, respectively, 154n.77, 210n.320; T’oegye’s simhak regarding, 210n.319; Zhen Duxiu and Xinjing on, 192n.205, 210n.319 (see also Zhen Dexiu). See also mind; mind cultivation Mozi, T’oegye’s criticism of, 197n.232 Nam Sibo, 11, 21–22, 32, 34–38, 148n.6, 149n.19, 155nn.92–93, 156n.101, 158n.3

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Neo-Confucian(ism): Japanese, 5, 14; Korean, ix, 2, 4, 15, 148n.10, 149n.23, 150n.29, 175n.108, 200n.256; metaphysics and ethics, xiv, 3, 149n.17, 154n.76. See also Cheng-Zhu; Chŏngjuhak; Sŏngnihak Neville, Robert, 127, 158n.125 Ni Qiu mountain, 97, 199n.249 No Ijae [l.n.] (Susin [g.n.]), 10, 137, 223n.409; advised by T’oegye about political corruption, 223n.409; T’oegye’s letter to, 137–140 One single thread, of Confucius’ teaching, 36, 68, 109–111, 114–117, 155n.97, 172n.93, 207n.297, 208n.297, 208n.299, 211n.387. See also Confucius Ŏnhaengnok (Record of T’oegye’s words and acts), 148n.7, 148n.9, 149n.18, 157n.122, 199n.245 Original human nature, 22, 26, 126, 217n.363; Four Beginnings pertain to, 26–27, 126, 218n.364; as human nature in itself, 26; Mencius and Zisi on, 26, 126; purely good and represented by i, 26; unmixed with physical dispositions, 26. See also human nature; physical human nature Original human nature and physical human nature, 25–27, 126, 217n.363; distinction of, 26–27; Four and Seven in terms of, 27, 126 ; good and evil in terms of (see also good and evil); in relation to i and ki, respectively, 27, 217n.363 Orthodoxy, 4–5, 15–17, 30, 32, 43, 162n.20, 168n.69, 178n.119, 186n.166, 193n.207, 205n.290, 209n.312, 215n.351. See also Cheng-Zhu; Chujahak; Sŏngnihak Ōtsuka Taiya, 5, 15. See also Shushigaku; Tokugawa Japan Paegundong Academy (Zhu Xi’s Pai-lutong Academy). See White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules Pak Songdang (Yŏng), 107–108, 110, 112. See also Collected Interpretation of White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules Palmer, Spencer, 164n.43, 180n.129 Physical form, 27, 66, 115, 133, 169n.79; in contact with external things, 126–127, 219n.369 Physical human nature, 27, 126; Cheng brothers, Zhang Zai, and Zhu Xi on,

27, 126, 217n.363; as conditioned by ki, 27, 218n.363; Seven Emotions pertain to, 27, 218n.364; as stimulated (or conditioned) by ki, 27. See also original human nature Physical(-psychological) dispositions, 26, 74, 80; ki/qi and, 22, 180n.129, 217n.363 Qiu Qiongshan, 56, 78, 163n.30, 166n.52; on funeral rites and clothing, 56, 60. See also Meaning and Etiquette of Family Rites Quiet sitting: as contemplative self-reflection, 12, 152n.46, 154n.76; in mind cultivation, 28, 163n.25, 193n.208; and other types of sitting, 95–96; with reverence and spiritual cultivation, 161n.15, 198n.245, 221n.383. See also mind cultivation; self-reflection; single-mindedness Records of the Confucian School in Principle in the Song and Yuan Periods (Song Yuan xuean), 173n.98, 184n.158, 204n.281, 222n.405, 227n.433 Records of the School of Principle in the Song, Yuan, and Ming Dynasties (Songge Wŏn Myŏng ihak t’ongnok) (by T’oegye), 15–16, 20, 186n.166 Reverence, xiv, 12, 21, 39–40, 84, 91, 110, 147n.2, 188n.183, 189n.187, 194n.217; abiding in, 39, 76, 99–100, 180n.127; “to be correct . . . orderly . . . and proper,” 41, 171n.89, 183n.146; Cheng Hao and Yi on, 41–42, 171n.87, 174n.100, 179n.124, 181n.132, 194n.212, 214n.348; and concentrating on one thing, 38, 41, 171n.87, 181n.132, 214n.348 (see also single-mindedness); Confucius on, 40, 116, 191n.196; “holding fast to,” 21, 40–42, 98, 101, 171n.89; investigation of principles with, 99–100; as “master (of the self),” 39, 102; as “master of learning,” 8, 41; moral and spiritual cultivation of, 39–43, 147n.2, 156n.112, 174n.100, 201n.260; self-cultivation requires, 39, 44, 75, 156n.112 , 171n.87, 174n.100, 179n.124, 194n.212, 214n.348; as single-minded concentration, 44, 157n.117, 181n.132, 190n.190, 198n.238, 214n.348; T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality of,

38–39, 179n.124, 224n.415; as way of sagehood, 41, 189n.126; Zhu Xi on, 39, 41–42, 91, 171n.87, 171n.89, 174n.100, 214n.348. See also mind cultivation; self-cultivation Righteousness: and benefit (profit), 104, 114, 184n.155, 210n.316; according to Dong Zhongshu and Zhu Xi, 107–108, 206n.293 Ritual propriety, 11, 36, 55–56, 58, 63, 109, 119; according to Book of Rites, 55, 57, 61; for funeral rites and costumes, 55–62; Qiu Qiongshan on, 55–57, 60 (see also Meaning and Etiquette of Family Rites). See also ancestral; Confucius; funeral rites Ro, Young-chan, 168n.70 Rosemont and Ames, 165n.43, 172n.91, 180n.129 Sagehood, 40, 43, 45, 189n.186, 201n.257; heaven’s principle and, 43 (see also heaven’s principle); learning for (of), 40, 174n.100; and reverence, 40, 43, 174n.100 Satō Naokata, 5 School of (human nature and) principle, 15, 76, 134. See also Cheng-Zhu; Chujahak; Sŏngnihak Self-cultivation, 2–3, 5–6, 12, 20–21, 29, 36–39, 44, 66–68, 77, 79–80, 82, 84, 93, 162n.19, 178n.117, 181n.132, 182n.142, 186n.164; by abiding in reverence, 180n.127; by being “cautious” and being “apprehensive,” 39, 123; by being “correct . . . orderly . . . and proper,” 41, 171n.89, 183n.146, 198n.238 (see also reverence by being orderly and dignified and solemn and austere), 68, 198n.244; Cheng Hao on, 27, 69; Cheng Yi on, 66, 68–69, 171n.89, 179n.122, 182n.144; according to Confucius and Mencius, 180n.130, 181n.132, 184n.157; by holding and preserving (the mind) (see mind cultivation); by holding on to the mind (see mind cultivation); by preserving (mind) and nourishing (human nature), 51, 95, 172n.94, 184n.157, 184n.158, 198n.239, 200n.256, 203n.271, 226n.430; by preserving heaven’s principle and suppressing selfish cravings, 28–29, 161n.15, 221n.383; to rectify self internally

Index

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and watch over external life, 42, 80, 171n.87, 171n.89, 183n.146, 190n.190; Zhu Xi on, 28–29, 66–67, 98, 170n.83, 179n.122. See also mind cultivation; reverence; self-reflection; simhak/ xinxue; single-mindedness; T’oegye, criticism of manipulation of learning for quick success; T’oegye, criticism of taking “shortcut” approach to “quick success” Self-reflection (chasŏng), 1–4, 6, 12, 44–45, 52, 152n.46, 226n.427. See also mind cultivation Self-transcendence, 45 Seven Emotions (or Seven), 13, 15–16, 26–28, 123, 125–129, 141, 151n.34, 151n.44, 152n.51, 153n.61, 212n.336, 213n.342; associated with physical human nature, 27 (see also physical human nature); in Book of Rites and Doctrine of the Mean, 151n.44, 216n.357; conditioned by ki, 27; emotional control over, 27; as feelings stimulated by external influence, 27, 219n.368; issue (aroused) from i, 214n.345, 221n.384, 225n.421; as physical and psychological states, 27, 219n.368; pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire as, 27, 128, 216n.357; potentially (capable of becoming) evil, 221n.384; refer principally to ki, 27. See also emotions/feelings; Four-Seven Shangcai. See Xie Liangzuo Shao Yong, 168n.68, 170n.81 Shuliang He (Confucius’ father), and Ni Mountain, 97, 199nn.249–250 Shushigaku (Zhu Xi school in Japan), 4–5, 151n.41. See also Chujahak; Tokugawa Japan Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic treatise on the saying “mind commands human nature and feelings”) (by T’oegye), 17, 154n.75, 157n.115, 176n.111, 178n.117, 183n.147, 194n.215 Sima Guang, and misreading of investigation of things, 104–105, 204n.281 Sima Qian and Shi ji, about Confucius’ parents 199n.251 Simhak to (Diagrammatic explanation of simhak) (by T’oegye), 157n.115, 176n.111, 178n.117, 192n.205 Simhak/xinxue (learning of the mind-andheart), 150n.31, 151n.32, 154n.76, 157n.115, 183n.147; as doctrine of

254

Index

mind cultivation, 41, 80, 194n.215; as essence of Confucian learning, 28; moral and religious aspects of, 150n.31; and spiritual (self-)cultivation, 12, 192n.205 Single-mindedness: Cheng Yi on, 39, 174n.100, 183n.146, 190n.190, 198n.238; by “concentrating on one thing,” xv, 30, 39, 42, 68, 70, 88, 95, 106, 123, 139, 157, 171n.87, 181n.132, 183n.146, 198n.238, 214n.348; to rectify internal life, 39, 42, 171n.87, 171n.89; with reverence, 44, 157n.117, 181n.132, 190n.190; Zhu Xi on, 39, 171n.87, 174n.100, 183n.146, 198n.238, 226n.427. See also mind cultivation; self-cultivation “Sixteen-Character Transmission of the Mind-and-Heart,” 86. See also moral mind and human mind Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk (Hwadam [l.n.]), 14, 158n.3, 160n.10; philosophy of ki, 14; T’oegye’s criticism of, 14 Song shi (History of the Song dynasty), 168n.68 Sŏnggyun’gwan, 7, 12, 19, 225n.420 Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams on sagely learning), 13, 17–18, 29, 39, 41–44, 147n.1 (Preface), 151n.33, 152n.48, 154n.75, 155n.92, 157n.115, 157n.119, 157n.121, 165n.45, 168n.69, 183n.147, 192n.205, 194n.215, 202n.264, 210n.317 Sŏngnihak (school of human nature and principle), in Korea, 3, 4, 148n.5, 153n.65. See also Chujahak; Orthodoxy sŏngnihak/xinglixue (learning of human nature and principle), 4, 153n.65. See also Cheng-Zhu Spiritual humanism, 45, 158n.128 Susumu, Takahashi, 148n.8 Tao Yuanming, 5 Taylor, Rodney, 154n.82, 158n.125, 199n.235, 201n.261 T’oegye, xiii–xvii, 1–49, 53, 136, 147–227; on ancestral and funeral rites, 55–62 (see also ancestral; ritual propriety); biography of, 3–13; Cheng brothers interpreted by (see Cheng Hao; Cheng Yi); on Confucius’ disciples as role models of self-cultivation (see Yan Yuan; Zengzi; Zigong); on Confucius’ teachings of human-heartedness and propriety (see Confucius); criticism of

Buddhism (see Buddha; Buddhism; Zen Buddhism); criticism of Chen Hsianzhang’s thought (see Chen Xianzhang); criticism of civil service examinations and defect of learning, 7–8, 10–11, 20–21, 33, 43, 76, 80, 101, 136 (see also T’oegye, on political corruption and selfish profits); criticism of Daoism (see Daoism; Daoist); criticism of Hwadam’s philosophy of ki (see Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk); criticism of Kobong’s Four-Seven thesis (see Kobong); criticism of Luo’s theory of i and ki (see Luo Qinshun; Kunzhi ji); criticism of manipulation of learning for quick success, 21, 34, 37, 40, 84, 120, 161n.13, 188n.182, 200n.256, 213n.343; criticism of taking “shortcut” approach to “quick success,” 21, 33–34, 37, 43, 54, 70, 117, 130, 160n.11, 180n.128, 186n.164, 188n.182, 197n.234, 200n.256, 202n.265; criticism of Wang Yangming (see Wang Yangming); ethics and spirituality (of reverence) in, 43–44, 212n.334, 224n.415 (see also reverence); humility and self-effacing and inspiring character, 8, 18–19, 21, 43, 159n.7, 160n.11, 179n.121, 181n.133, 183n.148, 188n.184, 197n.235, 201n.257, 215n.353, 225n.423; influence on Japanese Neo-Confucianism influenced, 4–5, 15; learning and self-cultivation, 7–8, 12, 202n.264 (see also self-cultivation); lifelong illness, 6, 9–10, 12, 32, 74, 94, 119–120 (see also T’oegye, resignations and retirement); love of nature, 6, 38, 52, 157n.123 (see also T’oegye, poetry with aesthetic, ecological, and spiritual themes); on Mencius’ philosophy of human nature (see Mencius); on Neo-Confucian orthodoxy (see orthodoxy); philosophy of principle, xiv, 22–26, 152n.50, 178n.117 (see also i/li); poetry with aesthetic, ecological, and spiritual themes, 5, 38, 53, 148n.14, 149n.15, 156n.110, 157n.123, 189n.127; on political corruption and selfish profits, 7, 10–11, 20, 136–137, 144, 157n.7, 222n.408, 223n.410, 225n.420 (see also T’oegye, criticism of civil service examinations); on propriety and ritual, 11, 36, 116, 119; resignations and retirement, 6, 9, 12, 74, 122,

143–144, 150n.25 (see also T’oegye, on political corruption and selfish profits; T’oegye, criticism of civil service examinations); and spiritual cultivation, 39–43; on various types of “sitting,” 95–96; and Western religious thought, 158n.129; writings by, 13–21; Zhu Xi quoted and interpreted by (see Zhu Xi). See also extension of knowledge; Four-Seven; good and evil; heaven’s principle, and selfish cravings; human nature; Hwang; i/li, investigation of principles; ki/qi; learning of mindand-heart; mind; mind cultivation; original human nature and physical human nature; quiet sitting; reverence; sagehood; self-cultivation; self-reflection; simhak/xinxue; single-mindedness Tokugawa Japan, 4–5, 15. See also Shushigaku Tongshu (Penetrating the Book of Changes), 65–66, 169nn.73–76, 169n.79, 218n.363. See also Zhou Dunyi Transcendence, 29, 52, 157n.125. See also self-transcendence Tu Weiming, 4, 25, 148n.8, 152n.56, 154n.82, 155n.92, 158n.128, 160n.12, 162n.23, 179n.122, 187n.177, 197n.230, 215n.354 Wagner, Edward, 150n.29, 223n.410 Wang Yangming, 16, 151n.43, 154n.82, 159n.3; Instructions for Practical Living (Chuanxi lu) 16–17, 32, 178n.119; school in Korea, 17, 152n.47; T’oegye’s critique of, 16, 32, 178n.119 Watson, Burton, translation of Zhuangzi by, 154n.84, 173n.97, 189n.187, 193n.210, 195n.221 Way (Dao), 30–31, 82, 85, 97, 99, 100, 104, 106, 109–110, 114, 120–122, 126, 128, 131–132, 145, 167n.62, 172n.91, 193n.207, 205n.290, 205n.292, 214n.349, 217n.361, 219n.374, 226n.428; arriving at, 19, 39, 120, 122–123; entering, 41, 91, 102, 135, 174n.100, 194n.212, ; experiencing, 155, 173n.97, 189n.187; hearing, 63, 142, 166n.59, 225n.424; know/realize/ understand, 63, 74, 109, 113, 186n.164; learning of, 4, 15, 112, 144; principle(s) of, 34, 54, 80, 96, 103, 115 Western Inscription (Xi ming), 93, 196nn.229– 230, 212n.335. See also Zhang Zai

Index

255

White Deer Grotto Academy’s Rules (by Zhu Xi), 109, 110–111, 114, 204n.288 Wisdom, 35, 44, 79, 84–85, 100, 102, 126–127, 143, 165n.45, 187n.171, 188n.181, 197n.236, 218n.367, 220n.364; discernment of right and wrong as, 216n.356; mind-and-heart of, 71; self-reflection as way of, 44; way of, x, 44–45 Wuwei (non-action), Daoist, 31, 161n.21, 193n.207, 210n.312. See also Daoism, criticized by T’oegye; Daoist Xie Liangzuo (Shangcai [c.n.]), 105, 204n.285 Yamazaki Ansai, 15 Yan Yuan (Yanzi), 6, 35, 38, 90, 102, 111, 116; human-heartedness and propriety practiced by, 36, 68, 171n.90, 172n.92, 182n.142, 192n.206, 208n.302; as role model of learning and selfcultivation, 35, 79, 155n.95, 182n.142 Yanping. See Li Tong; Yanping dawen Yanping dawen (Li Yanping’s letters answering questions) (by Zhu Xi), 14, 155n.93, 163n.26, 170n.82, 185n.159, 197n.236. See also Li Tong Yili (K. Ŭirye; Etiquette and rites), 59–60, 166n.49 Yin and yang, 131–132, 135, 219n.374 Yishu (Surviving works of the two Chengs), xvi, 153n.70, 156n.99, 156n.107, 156n.113, 157nn.117–118, 171n.87, 171n.89, 173n.99, 175n.108, 175nn.110– 111, 177n.114, 179n.124, 181n.132, 183n.146, 194n.211, 198n.238, 198n.244, 214n.348, 219n.369, 220n.379. See also Cheng Hao; Cheng Yi Yukgok, 1, 3, 4, 8, 11, 20–21, 29, 32–33, 35–36, 38–40, 42, 99, 147n.2, 148n.6, 149n.23, 153n.62, 155n.92, 155n.94, 159n.4, 159n.7, 175n.108, 200n.257, 201n.258, 201n.260, 203n.272, 217n.357, 220n.381; influenced by Luo Qinshun, 227n.433; T’oegye on his learning and self-cultivation, 29, 39, 100, 201n.262; T’oegye’s letter to, 99–106; Zen Buddhism studied by, 20–21, 29, 201n.262. See also Zen Buddhism Zen Buddhism: criticized by T’oegye, 16–17, 52–53, 162n.20; propriety

256

Index

practiced by, 36, 68, 172n.91, 182n.142, 214n.350; as role model of self-cultivation, 35, 79, 182n.142, 185n.161, 211n.326, 214n.350; T’oegye’s criticism of Wang Yangming, Chen Xianzhang, and, 16–17, 32, 178n.119; Zengzi, 35, 55, 82, 109, 115, 155n.94, 155nn.96–97, 163n.28, 172n.93, 192n.203, 207n.297 (see also Confucius, disciples of). See also Buddha; Buddhism Zhang Zai, xvi, 14, 27, 30, 100, 173n.98, 217n.434; filial piety and ancestral rites according to, 77, 164n.43, 180n.129, 181n.131; on “mind commands human nature and feelings,” 178n.117; on physical human nature, 126, 217n.363. See also Western Inscription Zhangzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhang Zai), xvi, 178n.117, 196n.229, 218n.363 Zhen Dexiu (Xishan [l.n.]), 114, 134, 150n.30, 210n.319, 222n.401; Classic for the Mind-and-Heart (Xinjing) by, 12, 150n.30, 184n.152, 189n.185, 192n.205; influence on T’oegye’s spiritual cultivation, 184n.152, 210n.319; on simhak, 153n.72, 192n.205 Zhou Dunyi (Master Lianxi), xvi, 23, 66, 128, 131, 168n.72, 169n.74, 169nn.76– 77, 170n.83, 218n.363, 220n.375. See also Diagrammatic Explanation of the Great Ultimate (Taijitu shuo); Tongshu Zhouzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhou Dunyi), xvi, 168n.69, 220n.375, 221n.391, 222n.405 Zhu Xi (Huian [l.n.]; Wengong; Master Zhu Xi), xiv, xvi, 2, 4–5, 15, 17–18, 25, 27–30, 34, 39–43, 67–68, 82, 90–95, 100, 107–108, 122, 129–130, 133–124, 139– 140, 144, 149n.17, 153n.63, 154n.77, 165n.43, 165n.45, 170nn.82–83, 173n.95, 175n.110, 177n.114, 180n.129, 184n.156, 198n.243, 200n.256, 204n.288, 205n.290, 206n.293, 211n.326, 212n.335, 217n.361, 218n.363, 220n.376, 221n.384, 222n.394, 222n.398, 224n.413, 227n.430; on ancestral and funeral rituals, 59–61 (see also ancestral; funeral rites; ritual propriety); against

manipulation of learning for quick success, 98, 171n.87, 226n.427; against taking shortcut approach to selfcultivation, 226n.427; on various types of “sitting,” 95–96; writings by, 7–8, 9, 64, 81. See also Cheng-Zhu; extension of knowledge; Four-Seven; good and evil; heaven’s principle, and (selfish) human cravings; human nature and emotions; i/li and ki/qi; investigation of principles; mind; mind cultivation; original human nature and physical human nature; self-cultivation; single-mindedness Zhuangzi, 31, 90, 145, 175n.97. See also Daoism, criticized by T’oegye; Daoist Zhuzi daquan (Great compendium of works by Master Zhu Xi; ZZDQ), xvi, 9, 98, 134, 191n.201, 200n.256, 222n.397, 222n.399, 222nn.403–404 Zhuzi quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhu Xi; ZZQS), xvi, 152nn.57–58, 153n.69, 156n.108, 157nn.116–117, 171n.87, 171n.89, 178nn.117–118, 181n.132, 183n.146, 190n.190, 198n.238, 214n.348, 217n.360, 219n.372 Zhuzi wenji (Collection of literary works by Master Zhu Xi; ZZWJ) xvi, 153n.59, 153n.70, 153n.74, 156n.113, 174nn.100– 101, 174n.103, 175n.110, 176n.111, 177n.114, 178n.117, 182n.144, 190n.192 Zhuzi yulei (Classified conversations of Master Zhu Xi ZZYL), xvi, 129, 152nn.53–54, 152nn.57–58, 153n.59, 153n.63, 153n.69, 173n.99, 174n.100, 174n.108, 180n.129, 192n.205, 205n.290, 217n.360, 217n.363, 218n.363, 219n.372, 221n.384, 221nn.389–390 Zigong, 54, 109, 162n.24, 174n.105, 196n.224, 208n.297. See also Confucius, disciples of Zilu, 97, 200n.254, 224n.418. See also Confucius, disciples of Zisi, 26, 126, 128, 211n.326, 217n.363. See also Doctrine of the Mean; Four (Beginnings); human nature Zixia, 82, 185n.161, 213n.344. See also Confucius, disciples of Ziyou, 82, 185n.161. See also Confucius, disciples of

About the Translator

Edward Y. J. Chung (PhD, University of Toronto) teaches Eastern religion and thought and comparative religion at the University of Prince Edward Island (Charlottetown, Canada). He is the author of Korean Confucianism: Tradition and Modernity—An Introduction and The Korean Neo-Confucianism of Yi T’oegye and Yi Yulgok: A Reappraisal of the “Four-Seven Thesis” and Its Practical Implications for Self-Cultivation.

Korean Classics Library: Philosophy and Religion

Salvation through Dissent: Tonghak Heterodoxy and Early Modern Korea George L. Kallander

Reflections of a Zen Buddhist Nun Kim Iryŏp, translated by Jin Y. Park

A Handbook of Buddhist Zen Practice translated by John Jorgensen

Korea’s Great Buddhist-Confucian Debate: The Treatises of Chŏng Tojŏn (Sambong) and Hamhŏ Tŭkt’ong (Kihwa) translated and with an introduction by A. Charles Muller

A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-­ Reflection) by Yi Hwang (T’oegye) translated, annotated, and with an introduction by Edward Y. J. Chung

Korean Classics Library: Historical Materials

Reclaiming Culture: Selected Essays on Korean History, Literature, and Society from the Japanese Colonial Era edited by Christopher P. Hanscom, Walter K. Lew, and Youngju Ryu