Classics and Interpretations: The Hermeneutic Traditions in Chinese Culture [1 ed.] 1560004312, 9781560004318

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Part 1: The Great Learning and Hermeneutics
1. Expanding the Tao: Chu Hsi’s Commentary on the Ta-hsüeh • John Berthrong
2. The Daxue at Issue: An Exercise of Onto-Hermeneutics (On Interpretation of Interpretations) • Chung-ying Cheng
3. Between Sanctioned Change and Fabrication: Confucian Canon (Ta-hsüeh) and Hermeneutical Systems Since the Sung Times • Kai-wing Chow
Part 2: Canonicity and Orthodoxy
4. Touchstones of Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy • John B. Henderson
5. Scripture and Authority: The Political Dimension of Han Wu-ti’s Canonization of the Five Classics • Yen-zen Tsai
6. Messenger of the Ancient Sages: Song-Ming Confucian Hermeneutics of the Canonical and the Heretical • Thomas A. Wilson
Part 3: Hermeneutics as Politics
7. The Confucian Classics: Kingship and Authority • Julia Ching
8. Objectivity, Truth, and Hermeneutics: Re-reading the Chunqiu • Q. Edward Wang
9. The Way of the Unadorned King: The Politics of Tung Chung-shu’s Hermeneutics • Sarah A. Queen
10. Chinese Hermeneutics as Politics: The Sung Debates over the Mencius • Chtin-chieh Huang
Part 4: Chu Hsi and the Interpretation of the Chinese Classics
11. To Know the Sages Better Than They Knew Themselves: Chu Hsi’s “Romantic Hermeneutics” • Jonathan R. Herman
12. Historicity, Tradition, Praxis, and Tao: A Comparison of the World Views of Zhang Xuecheng and Modem Philosophical Hermeneutics • Chan-liang Wu
13. Chu Hsi Reading the Classics: Reading to Taste the Tao—“This Is...A Pipe,” After All • Matthew Arnold Levey
Part 5: Hermeneutics in Chinese Poetics and Non-Confucian Contexts
14. Chinese Lyric Subject in/and the Act of Interpretation: Toward Hermeneutics of Chih-yin • Ping-hui Liao
15. Textual Hermeneutics and Beyond: With the Tao-Te Ching and the Chuang Tzu as Examples • Kuang-ming Wu
16. Chung-yung in Northern Sung Intellectual Discourse: The Buddhist Components • Chi-chiang Huang
Part 6: Reinterpretations of Confucian Texts in the Ming-Ch’ing Period
17. Hermeneutics and Classicism: The New Script (jinwen) Learning of Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan • On-cho Ng
18. M ediating Word, Sentence, and Scope without Violence:J ames Legge’s Understanding of “Classical Confucian” Hermeneutics • Lauren Pfister
19. Philosophical Hermeneutics and Political Reform: A Study of Kang Youwei’s Use of Gongyang Confucianism • Young-tsu Wong
Part 7: Contemporary Interpretations of Confucian Culture
20. Mou Tsung-san’s Interpretation of Confucianism: Some Hermeneutical Reflections • Ming-huei Lee
21. A Radical Hermeneutics of Chinese Literary Tradition: On Zhou Zuoren’s Zhongguo xinwenxue de yuanliu • Xudong Zhang
Contributors
Index

Citation preview

Classics and Interpretations

Ching -I Tu, editor

Classics and Interpretations The Hermeneutic Traditions in Chinese Culture

First published 2000 by Transaction Publishers Published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon 0X14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint o f the Taylor and Francis Group, an informa business

Copyright © 2000 by Taylor & Francis All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Catalog Number: 99-41851 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Classics and Interpretations : The Hermeneutic Traditions in Chinese Culture / edited by Ching-i Tu. p. cm. Papers presented at a conference convened at Rutgers University from October 10 to 12, 1996. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISSN 1-56000-431-2 (alk. paper) 1. Chinese classics—History and critism Congresses. I. Tu. Ching-i, dl935PL2461.Z6C59 1999 895.1 '09—dc21 99-41851 CIP ISBN 13: 978-1-56000-431-8 (hbk)

Contents

P re fa c e

ix P a r t 1: T he Great Learning a n d H erm eneutics

1. 2.

3.

Expanding the Tao: Chu H si’s Commentary on the Ta-hsueh John B erthrong 3 The Daxue at Issue: An Exercise of Onto-Hermeneutics (On Interpretation of Interpretations) Chung-ying Cheng 23 Between Sanctioned Change and Fabrication: Confucian Canon ( Ta-hstieh) and Hermeneutical Systems Since the Sung Times Kai-w ing Chow 45

P a r t 2: C anonicity a n d O rthodoxy 4. 5.

6.

Touchstones of N eo-C onfucian Orthodoxy John B. H enderson 71 Scripture and Authority: The Political Dimension of Han W u-ti’s Canonization of the Five Classics Yen-zen Tsai 85 M essenger of the Ancient Sages: Song-Ming Confucian Hermeneutics of the Canonical and the Heretical Thomas A. W ilson 107 P a r t 3: H erm eneutics as Politics

7.

The Confucian Classics: Kingship and Authority Julia Ching

129

8.

Objectivity, Truth, and Hermeneutics: Re-reading the

Chunqiu Q. Edw ard Wang The Way of the Unadorned King: The Politics of Tung C hung-shu’s H erm eneutics Sarah A. Queen 10. Chinese Hermeneutics as Politics: The Sung Debates over the Mencius Chtin-chieh H uang

155

9.

173

195

Part 4: Chu Hsi and the Interpretation of the Chinese Classics 11. To Know the Sages Better Than They Knew Themselves: Chu H si’s “Romantic Hermeneutics” Jonathan R. Herm an 215 12. Historicity, Tradition, Praxis, and Tao: A Comparison of the World Views of Zhang Xuecheng and M odem Philosophical Hermeneutics Chan-liang Wu 227 13. Chu Hsi Reading the Classics: Reading to Taste the Tao - “This I s ... A Pipe,” After All M atthew Arnold Levey 245

Part 5: Hermeneutics in Chinese Poetics and Non-Confucian Contexts 14. Chinese Lyric Subject in/and the Act of Interpretation: Toward Hermeneutics of Chih-yin Ping-hui Liao 15. Textual Herm eneutics and Beyond: With the Tao-Te Ching and the Chuang Tzu as Examples K uang-m ing Wu 16. Chung-yung in Northern Sung Intellectual Discourse: The Buddhist Components C hi-chiang H uang

275

291

315

Part 6: Reinterpretations of Confucian Texts in the Ming-Ch’ing Period 17. Hermeneutics and Classicism: The New Script (jinwen) Learning of Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan O n-cho Ng 341 18. M ediating Word, Sentence, and Scope without Violence: James Legge’s Understanding of “Classical Confucian” Hermeneutics Lauren Pfister 371 19. Philosophical Hermeneutics and Political Reform: A Study of Kang Youwei’s Use of Gongyang Confucianism Y oung-tsu Wong 383

Part 7: Contemporary Interpretations of Confucian Culture 20. M ou T sung-san’s Interpretation o f Confucianism: Some Hermeneutical Reflections M ing-huei Lee 21. A Radical Hermeneutics of Chinese Literary Tradition: On Zhou Zuoren’s Zhongguo xinwenxue de yuanliu X udong Zhang

427

Contributors

457

Index

461

411

Preface As scholars have attempted new ways of interpretation and un­ derstanding, in recent years the discipline of herm eneutics, or the art and science of textual interpretation, has attracted much schol­ arly attention. Borrowed from students of the ever growing body of biblical interpretative literature that originated in the early Chris­ tian era, theoretical herm eneutics has provided m any contem po­ rary biblical and non-biblical scholars with important tools of tex­ tual interpretation. In a tim e when deconstructionist m om entum has released scholars from prior and secure interpretational m oor­ ings, the em ergence of theoretical herm eneutics has offered fresh approaches in a continuing search for textual meaning. The central focus of hermeneutics— of any tradition— is “scripture.” A text achieves scriptural status when it is canonized. The process of canonization, which itself intrinsically includes continuous sub-pro­ cesses of reformation, is accompanied by the accumulation of com ­ mentaries appended to the scriptures. Invariably, commentaries play not only an exegetical but also an eisegetical function, wherein the authors of the commentaries, like the authors of the canons, cannot help but bring to the commentaries their own hermeneutical experi­ ence with both their historical context and the text they study. In China, all three m ajor schools of thought and belief, namely, Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism, have their own canons: the C onfucians w ith th eir classics (the Five C lassics and the Four Books), the Buddhists with their Tripitakas (Fo-tsang), and the Taoists with their Taoist Canon ( Tao-tsang). One measure of the im ­ portance o f individual w orks in a canon is the quantity of com ­ m entaries w ritten on them . C hina has a long history o f w riting com m entaries on im portant texts. M oreover, these texts were al­ ways studied together with their comm entaries. W hether it is the Spring and Autumn, Analects, Too Te Ching, or Lotus Sutra, it has always been the practice am ong Chinese scholars to exam ine the ix

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text together with its com m entaries and understand its m eaning through this m ultifaceted exegetical prism . W hile a herm eneutic tradition has thrived in China for many centuries, this fact has largely been neglected by m odem scholarship in the West. It was in response to this neglect of so central a cultural concern of a society so large and im portant in our own world that many scholars from around the world convened at R utgers U niversity from October 10 to 12, 1996. At this conference, the scholars sought to shed light on the hermeneutical issues involved in the develop­ m ent and continuation of the C onfucian canon and, necessarily, the Confucian culture. The conference originally intended to center on three foci of schol­ arly inquiry, including Chinese hermeneutics as politics, as apology, and as personal spiritual development. Because of the scholarly imagi­ nation of the participants, as the conference evolved it covered a much broader scope of concerns, which the reader will find condensed in the papers contained in the present volume. While a good number of the papers maintain focus on the rich herme­ neutic traditions comprising particularly the Neo-Confucian texts, per­ sons, and cultures, others search outside of these traditions in an at­ tempt to understand the role of hermeneutics in Taoist and Buddhist textual interpretation, in Chinese poetics and painting, and in contem ­ porary Chinese culture. The advantage of this diverse representation is that the reader is introduced not merely to the great breadth and depth of Chinese hermeneutics, but also to its tremendous length and evolu­ tionary vigor. As scholars continue to clarify the components of this tradition, we may refine our understanding of the Chinese canonical tradition. Twenty-one papers presented at the conference are included in this volume and divided into seven sections. In the initial section, “The Great Learning and Herm eneutics,” John B erthrong attem pts to dem onstrate how Chu Hsi em ployed the com m entary form to define through the Great Learning {Tahsiieh) text the way in which the individual creates his social self and thereby expands the Tao. Chung-ying Cheng intends to show how Chu H si’s and Wang Yang-ming’s differing interpretations of the Ta-hsiieh text result ultimately from their distinct onto-hermeneutical predispositions, and that at the level of ontological truth their differences can be justified in a greater truth that encompasses both approaches to the text. In his article, Kai-wing Chow tells us how the treatment of the Ta-hsiieh text as either canonical or forg­

Preface

xi

ery depends largely on prevailing herm eneutical principles which in turn are based on disparate ideologies. In the section on “Canonicity and Orthodoxy,” John B. Henderson dem onstrates how the Neo-Confucian canonical exegetes and po­ lemicists focused on three central philosophical touchstones to ei­ ther define Confucian tenets more clearly or undermine polemical opponents more effectively. Yen-zen Tsai shows how the Han can­ onization of the Five Classics fully completed the intended role of the Classics by engaging their tao and that tao’s adherents politi­ cally. In his article, Thomas A. Wilson reviews the ways in which one’s association with the dom inant Confucian herm eneutical re­ gime of late imperial China influenced his examination and subse­ quent political success. He also shows how a double standard ex­ isted in this herm eneutical regim e which served to strengthen the dominance of the regime. Finally, the very existence of the double standard prevented this regim e from achieving a “general herm e­ neutics,” as defined by Wilhelm Dilthey. The section on “Hermeneutics as Politics” include four articles. Julia Ching develops from early times through the early republican period the thesis that the classics (with commentaries) and scholars have en­ gaged in a dialectic that has transformed both, producing in each the representative authority of the presumed authors of the core canons of the classical tradition, the ancient sages. The result is a body of accu­ mulated but continuously changing wisdom that should continue to inspire new generations of scholarly exegetes. Q. Edward Wang explores the dominant hermeneutic tradition in Chinese historiography, whereby the past is created in narrative and thus employed as a moral mirror for the present and future times. Sarah A. Queen shows how I\ing Chung-shu’s reinterpretation in the first century B.C.E. of the Spring and Autumn Annals and its attendant Kung-yang Commentary transformed not only the scriptural tradition but also through it the imperial and bureaucratic institutions of China. The last article in this section by Chun-chieh Huang demonstrates, through comparison of the Sung debates over the Mencius with Mencius’ own debates with his contemporaries, how Chinese hermeneutics is pragmatic both in its origins and in its continuing applications. In the fourth section, “Chu Hsi and the Interpretation of Chinese Classics,” Jonathan R. Herman develops the idea that Chu Hsi was a ro m an tic h e rm e n eu t sim ila r to W estern h erm e n eu ts such as Schleiermacher and Dilthey, in that Chu sought to induce students to

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access the universal principle through specific authors of the clas­ sics and the sages. Chan-liang Wu shows how Chang Hsiieh-ch’eng’s em phasis on praxis over textual idealization shares many funda­ mental elements with what are essentially the anti-intellectual trends in the developing Western and Chinese “modernism” of the twenti­ eth century. M atthew A. Levey treats the key hermeneutic issue of reading, investigating the interactions of the roles of reading subject, the object of principle, and the representatives of the textual object, the commentary. He finds that, in Chu Hsi, the mind-heart of man, as the reader, can free the M ind-Heart of the Way to actively express the universal M oral Principle through the act of reading of Rene M agritte’s paradox “This is not a Pipe.” To Chu Hsi, then, the text both is and is not actually the principle that it represents. The next chapter deals with “Hermeneutic Traditions in Chinese Poetics and Non-Confucian Contexts.” Ping-hui Liao reveals the de­ velopment in the Sung-Yuan period of a lyric aesthetics in landscape painting whereby self (image) and other (word) m elded to form a symbolic subversion of the Mongol regime and an intense loyalism to the remembered culture and rule of the native Sung. Kuang-ming Wu argues convincingly for a conflation of the Western analytic and Chinese com m entarial herm eneutics to produce a process of truth discovery that takes into account both objective and subjective con­ texts. In his article Chi-chiang Huang details the way in which Ch’isung, an eleventh-century Chinese Buddhist monk, reinterpreted the Confucian classic Doctrine of the Mean (Chung-yung) in a Buddhist light, in the process evincing its metaphysical and moral depths long before Confucians of the Sung dynasty did the same. In the sixth section, “Reinterpretation of Confucian Texts in the M ing-Ch’ing Period,” On-cho Ng employs the work and thought of two prom inent late-C h’ing thinkers and writers, Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan, to demonstrate how their New Script Learning— and by extension traditional Chinese classicism — sustained itself via the constant dialectic interaction of the subject and object, the interpreter and the interpreted. Their learning thus shares with current herme­ neutical theory the reliance on the idea of an “hermeneutic circle.” L au ren P fis te r show s how Jam es L e g g e ’s aw aren ess and un d erstan d in g o f the d iv erse trad itio n s o f c la ssic a l C onfucian hermeneutics beyond the Mencian approach that he favored informed his treatment and translations of the Chinese classics. Young-tsu Wong, in his article, argues that the late nineteenth-century reform-minded

Preface

xiii

scholar K’ang Yu-wei used an evolutionary model of history, founded in Kung-yang hermeneutics but stimulated by Western Learning— to support his platform of political reform . K ’ang’s essential argu­ ments that Confucius was a reformer and the classics are spurious, in effect, alienated both reformers and conservatives, helped in the end to doom the 1898 Reform s, and, to K ’ang’s dismay, fed the fires o f revolution in early twentieth-century China. The last section, “C ontem porary Interpretations of Confucian Culture,” includes articles by M ing-huei Lee and Xudong Zhang. Lee redefines, defends, and provides justification for M ou Tsungsan’s interpretation of Confucianism. He rejects attempts to explain it according to Willard Van Urman Q uine’s “conceptual relativism,” opting instead to understand M ou’s position according to the mod­ em herm eneutical principle of the “herm eneutic circle.” In M ou’s textual hermeneutics, Lee argues, “historical” and “rational” knowl­ edge are united. D iffering from conventional scholarship w hich focuses on the iconoclastic aspect of the May Fourth era, Zhang’s article scrutinizes the way in which tradition is negotiating the cre­ ation o f a New Culture. By reading Zhou Z uoren’s unorthodox rew riting of Chinese literary history, Zhang seeks to capture the hermeneutic thinking at work in the vernacular revolution. He also argues that w henever tradition becom es part of a constellational notion of the past and present, it is kept alive via its own interpreta­ tion in a cultural modernity in the making. A few words are necessary on editorial practice in the present vol­ ume. First, we have not imposed a standard system of romanization of Chinese characters. Rather, each author has employed the system of his/her choice. Second, we have not insisted on the use of standard English translations of the titles of Chinese texts. Readers thus will find, for example, that authors, when referring to the ancient canonical text Ch’un-ch’iu, variably write the Annals, Spring and Autumn, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. As translation itself is an hermeneutic act, we hope that the reader will appreciate the appropriateness of al­ lowing in this volume this hermeneutic license. For the success of the conference, I would like to thank, first of all, the scholars who contributed papers included in this volume. I would also like to thank Professors W illard Peterson, Thomas H. C. Lee, Peter Zarrow, Wai-yee Li, Longxi Zhang, Yii Ying-shih, Dor­ othy Ko, M ichael Gasster, and H i W ei-ming who served as discus­ sants and made important contributions to the conference and, in­

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directly, to the present volume. Special thanks are also due to my fellow m em bers of the organizing com m ittee for the conference, Professors Chun-chieh Huang, Peter Li, Chiin-fang Yii, and Xudong Zhang, for their invaluable suggestions and continuous support. My deep appreciation is extended to Dr. Xiao-hong Chen for coor­ dinating various activities related to the conference, and to Dr. Dongdong Chen and, especially, Dr. John Didier and Mr. David Yu G reenblatt for their valuable assistance in preparing the confer­ ence volume for publication. Finally, I m ust record our gratitude to Rutgers U niversity and the C hiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange for the financial support that made both the conference and the publication of this volume possible. Ching-I Tu August 1998

Part 1 The Great Learning and Hermeneutics

1 Expanding the Tao: Chu H si’s Commentary on the Ta-hsiieh John Berthrong

G

u Hsi’s commentary on the Ta-hsiieh, completed in 1189 when Chu was fifty-nine, was a paradigmatic philosophic reconstruction of a classic Confucian text; it was also an audacious manifesto for the emerg­ ing tao-hsiieh movement. To be willing to recast the received text of a classic was to signal just how serious the movement was in its chal­ lenge to other schools of thought. In 1190 Chu Hsi published the Great Learning commentary, along with its sisters on the Analects, the Mencius, and the Doctrine of the Mean, as the Four Masters} Of course, these four commentaries and texts are now better known as the Four Books and became the basis for the civil service examinations from 1313 till 1905. Furthermore, these four commentaries provided the formal textual warrants for Chu Hsi’s construction of the social self as an integral part of his emerging philosophic synthesis. The definition and nature of the person as a social self was part of the philosophic anthropology that resided at the center of Chu’s vision of the Confucian Tao. Defining the social construction of the self was one of Chu’s answers to the perennial question concerning the nature of human nature//ismg. In Chu’s eyes, the social self was balanced between the world as the cos­ mos of the ten thousand things, the emerging person’s appropriation of the world as compared and contrasted to the evidence (texts) and ideals of the sages, and its final resolution/cultivation by the mind-heart achiev­ ing a proper balance of getting the Way for oneself in service to the 3

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world. One of the chief tools for creating the self was the hermeneutic art of reading the classics, of literally tasting their meanings so that their meanings nourished the formation of a proper Confucian self identity. Daniel Gardner begins his careful study of C hu’s interpretation of the Great Learning by cautioning against the assumption that Chu Hsi merely used his commentary as a pretext for creating his own philoso­ phy out of the whole cloth of his own genius and the teachings of his revered Northern Sung masters. W hat Gardner, among others, argues is that Chu Hsi loved the classical texts and was in dialogue with them as his living masters. Chu once said that only a sage or a fool refuses to change interpretation upon deeper reflection and criticism, and he ob­ viously did not take himself to be either a sage or a fool. Rather, Chu wanted to help students of the Confucian way grapple with both the literal meaning of the text in order to understand the deeper intellec­ tual and existential issues of the true meaning of the words of the sages. Chu felt a real piety before the text and a desire to delve as deeply into its meaning as was humanly possible. Only a sophisticated student of hermeneutics really had a chance to comprehend the teachings of the sages. Chu Hsi not only added the famous short section on the examination of things to the received text, he reorganized the structure of the text around the twin poles of classic and commentary. C hu’s argument was that the first section was actually derived from Confucius whereas the rest were the work of Tseng Tzu, themselves commentaries on the core Confucian text. In making his case Chu replicated the major features of the Confucian textual tradition by isolating a classic and then ap­ pending layers of commentaries to it. If this were not enough, as Gardner (1986) has shown, Chu wrote a huo-wen sub-commentary on his own commentary and also continued to discuss the text with his students. Hence, as Chu’s own choice as the gateway to classical studies, the text of the Great Learning became a miniature universe wherein the stu­ dent can begin to chart the way to creating a Confucian self. Another intriguing way to review the history of commentary has recently been suggested by the collaborative work of Walter Watson and David Dilworth on the architectonics of meaning. In two works on comparative global philosophy, Watson and Dilworth argue that world philosophy is marked by a rhythm of differing but recurring philo­ sophic styles of climates and interest. Watson writes: The history of philosophy exhibits a cycle of epochal shifts: from an ontic epoch

Expanding the Tao

5

concerned with that which is, or being, to an epistemic epoch concerned with how we know that which is, or knowing, to a semantic epoch concerned with the ex­ pression of what we know about that which is, or meaning, and back again to an ontic epoch concerned with being. (1993, 5)

Watson goes on to make the point that Greek thought begins with re­ flections on ontological and cosmological issues, moves into a phase driven by epistemological questions, and then develops a semantic or hermeneutical bent. The history of m odem Western philosophy also illustrates the same cycle. It begins with Descartes’ depiction of the m odem worldview about what is and is not. Then it takes an epistemic turn, best represented by thinkers like Hume and Kant, and finally turns around again to contemporary philosophies of language and herme­ neutics. A similar argument can be mounted for the cycle of philoso­ phy begun by the Sung tao-hsueh philosophers and followed by the M ing-Ch’ing turns to epistemology and hermeneutics.2 Chu Hsi, basing his work on his favored Northern Sung masters, actually defined a new world of ultimate meaning. It is most definitely a worldview that proposed an alternative reading of reality when com ­ pared and contrasted to those offered by Buddhism and philosophic Taoism. This is the world defined by principle///, matter-energy/c/i’/, and the morality of the mind-heart//wm as the agent of the unification of the formal and dynamic poles of reality constituted by li and ch’i. The worldview was realistic, pluralistic, relational, processive, and axiological in nature.3 One of the key questions that consumed Chu was the quest of be­ coming a fully moral person. Daniel Gardner (1986) notes that “W hat did distinguish Chu from his predecessors, however, was the attention he gave to working out a detailed process of self-cultivation” (1986, 47). Em bedded in Chu H si’s herm eneutic art, along with a new worldview, was a fresh understanding of the self, making the self a text that needed to be cultivated and read correctly. Therefore, the herme­ neutic art became the art of personal cultivation and of placing the human being within the larger processes of the cosmos. Recently Steve Odin (1996) has written an extended study of the social self in Zen and American pragmatism that throws light on C hu’s new hermeneutics. Scholars have long noticed the similarity of prag­ matism and certain forms of East Asian thought, especially focusing on their realistic tendencies, stress on process and relationality of worldviews. Odin provides a careful comparison of modem Japanese philosophy, especially the Kyoto School, with the work of George

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Herbert Mead. Mead, although not as well known as Peirce, James, or Dewey, is important because of his application of the pragmatic tradi­ tion to a new theory of the self, namely what M ead calls the social self. I will try to show that M ead’s idea of the social self is an even better fit with Chu H si’s ideal student of the Confucian Way than with the Bud­ dhist Kyoto schoolmen’s Buddhist kenotic self. The first and foremost reason for this congruence with M ead’s syn­ thesis of American pragmatic thought is the inherent realism of both systems, in contradistinction with Buddhist speculation on emptiness. The fundamental claim of Chu and M ead is that the self is real; it is social rather than individual and that it is set within a cosmos of other real object-events. O f course, the trick is to see in what sense Chu and M ead define the real. For instance, in both cases, and here I agree with Odin, one of the marks of the real for Chu and M ead is the relational quality of the self, as opposed to some kind of notion of the self or person as an enduring isolated substance, something unrelated essen­ tially with anything else. Walter Watson and David Dilworth point out that philosophers choose for very good reasons the voice in which they speak. According to their analysis of texts, there are four variables— what they call the archie variables— to be found in the examination of any text. First, there is the authorial perspective, the voice that the author uses to express the viewpoint of the text. Second, there is a reality qua worldview that the text embodies, either explicit as in systematic philosophic works or implicit as would be the case for literature and religious discourse. Third, the text has a method by which it explains itself. Fourth, the text expresses a principle of organization. W atson’s and Dilworth’s archie profile for Chu Hsi is (1) a disciplinary voice, (2) essential reality, (3) a dialectical method, and (4) a comprehensive principle. W hat is perti­ nent to C hu’s commentary is the disciplinary voice in particular. Watson and Dilworth cite the opening of Moby Dick as a good ex­ ample of the personal perspective: “Call me Ishmael.” On the other hand, one could never imagine Chu Hsi beginning his commentary by writing something like, “Call me Chu Hsi.” Besides the personal voice there are the objective, diaphanic, and disciplinary modes. The objec­ tive voice is the opposite of the personal, pretends to be the normal way things are for everyone, and is impersonal in nature. The diaphanic is often, though not always, the voice of religious discourse wherein the author claims that something or someone higher is speaking through the author. The author becomes diaphanous to the truth. The disciplin­

Expanding the Tao

7

ary voice is that of the competent expert who is reflecting the opinion of the learned. It is a schooled voice and is phrased as “we” rather than as the voice of an isolated individual. However, it is no less lacking in a “personal,” distinctive or even strong voice than any of the other three authorial perspectives. For instance, it would be hard to find in the history of global thought stronger and more unique voices than those of Aristotle and Chu Hsi, both of whom embody the disciplinary voice and spirit. A further nuance on the modality of the commentary as a genre for Chu Hsi is suggested by Odin when he introduces the work of Stephen Pepper, an American philosopher of the mid-twentieth century. Pepper is particularly well-known for his theory of root metaphors in philoso­ phy, a theory he developed in the 1940s and later revised and expanded in the 1960s. Pepper theorized that every philosopher has a favorite root metaphor that controls the unfolding of his or her system. In terms of W atson’s and Dilworth’s system of archie analysis, each philoso­ pher has an expressive way of stating the principle that guides each philosophic narrative. For instance, many great seventeenth-century Western intellectuals loved to think of the world in terms of a dualistic machine metaphor. On the other side of the world, it has often been noticed that many Confucian philosophers have used the metaphor of the world as a family or living plant. Pepper first proposed that Western philosophers have generally used four great metaphors (such as the machine or a form), but he later de­ cided to add a fifth metaphor. This new fifth metaphor is that of the purposive act. Pepper distinguished the purposive act from the m eta­ phor of the organism because of the sense of craft or direction that goes into the purposeful act as creative process.4 W hat Pepper finally decided is that even though, for instance, W hitehead had an organic model for the relationships of the actual entities that make up this cos­ mic epoch, W hitehead’s deeper metaphor concentrated on the purpose or aim that dominates the concrescence of each of these actual entities. Although the outcome of the concrescence of the actual entities was to generate a world of organic relations, nonetheless the creative moment of the concrescence itself was directional, or what Pepper would call a purposive act. We have now assembled the host of witnesses needed to give a rich description of Chu H si’s commentary on the Great Learning as an ex­ ample of a disciplinary expression of the creation of a person by means of the purposive act of trying to become a sage. Such an analysis makes

8

Classics and Interpretations

use of M ead’s idea of the social self, W atson’s and Dilworth’s patterns of archie analysis, and Pepper’s theory of root metaphors as means of seeing how the use of commentary was a way for Chu to help craft the Confucian person. As Gardner and others have noticed, Chu wanted to use the Great Learning as a pattern or model by which to teach the emerging social self how to be a worthy person. In Pepper’s term inol­ ogy, this is most definitely a purposive act— the reading of a text in order to launch oneself on the path of becoming a Confucian person. There is one question that has always haunted the study of NeoConfucian thought: Is it faithful to the Confucian classical tradition? W hat is implied in this question is that post-Sung philosophy of the Way is really, at some deep level, a Confucian capitulation to Taoist and Buddhist speculative philosophy. The charge is that although Chu Hsi commented on the Confucian classics, his fundamental worldview was un-Confucian in character. Few scholars would claim that Chu was self-consciously trying to deceive him self or others; Chu’s piety before the Confucian tradition was genuine. However, his philosophy was so much influenced by Taoism and Buddhism that Chu could not avoid changing the whole direction of Confucianism away from the practical bent of Confucius and Mencius towards the speculations of Taoist and Buddhist philosophers. Mou Tsung-san, hardly a great defender of Chu Hsi, has offered a credible counter response to this quasi-Buddhist reading of Sung taohsiieh philosophy.5Mou makes the distinction between a borrowing of a key element and the stimulus that any philosopher feels when con­ fronted with a different position. O f course, there are cases when a philosopher will directly borrow material from another tradition. The case of Hsiin Tzu’s obvious use of Chuang Tzu’s notion of the mindheart and later M ohist logic are classical examples of direct borrow­ ing. Nonetheless, Hsiin Tzu put Confucian fingerprints all over the ideas he borrowed, and few would deny Hsiin Tzu’s place as a great though controversial Confucian thinker. Chu Hsi responded to the Taoists and Buddhists because of a series of fundamental philosophic convictions he took to be essential for any viable Confucian worldview. In the first place, Chu believed that the world was real and pluralistic because of its constitution by a myriad of actual object-events. That is one reason why the doctrine of ko-wu, or “the examination of things,” plays such an important part in his phi­ losophy. Moreover, there is only this one world, and it is manifested by m eans of object-events; there is no ultim ate separation, eith er

Expanding the Tao

9

ontologically or cosmologically, between the elements of this world and some other ideal state such as nirvana, nor an appeal to some cre­ ator beyond the world, nor a promise of some state of non-being be­ yond, below, or above this world. The world is not empty and in fact is populated by all kinds of very real object-events. I have resorted to the neologism object-event in or­ der to try to describe what Chu Hsi took to be matters of fact or wu. That Chu believed in the reality of object-events is not controversial; but Chu also affirmed the reality of moral obligations, ritual actions, human sentiments, and values. Events, that is to say, the proper ethical actions of a sage in response to the living reality of human life, were as real for Chu Hsi as the fan or rice-cooker he used to illustrate his philo­ sophic points in conversation with his students as quotidian manifesta­ tions of how the world works. Such a translation of wu as event as well as object helps to show the range of Chu H si’s interests. Furthermore, Chu Hsi maintains that these facts, objects and events are always and everywhere related to each other because of the lure of the Supreme Ultimate, the dialect of yin-yang and the constant interac­ tion of the five phases. For the human person, this relational quality is best understood in terms of the ability of the m ind-heart to mediate between principle and matter-energy.6 The cultivated mind-heart re­ sponds to things and events, and, when it works well, creates new pat­ terns or principled actions, the fundamental values of a human life and person. There is always something new being bom in the timely re­ sponse of the sage to the world. While the basic principles of human action, Chu Hsi believed, find their early record in the classical texts of the Chou Confucian tradition, worthies like the C h’eng brothers revi­ talized this classical learning for Sung China. While human beings share collective patterns of behavior and ritual, these inherited norms or prin­ ciples must be creatively applied to each new situation. The past is related to the present in learning; then the present is thrown into the future with the generation of some new value. Chu Hsi affirms that the true nature of the cosmos is unceasing generativity. Chu Hsi’s commentary on the Great Learning illustrates this pattern of the creation of a social self concerned with fundamental axiological patterns of action among the object-events of a creative cosmos. Texts become a guide, a teacher of the Way, but only if the student under­ stands the real principle that informs the text, the unity of the Supreme Ultimate as one and yet many. “You m ust frequently take the words of the sages and worthies and pass them before your eyes, roll them around

10

Classics and Interpretations

and around in your mouth, and turn them over and over in your m ind” (Chu 1990,129). The real proof for the Confucian Way is not scholas­ ticism but rather an existential attempt to follow the teachings of the sages and worthies in spirit and truth. The Sung philosophers realized that times change and new situations arise which demand a creative use of inherited wisdom. There are simply new configurations of af­ fairs that did not exist in the times of the ancient sages and worthies, though it was the Sung Confucians’ conviction that the basic principles of the sages did have application if used intelligently. Furthermore, as every student must start her or his search somewhere, then where bet­ ter than by the study of the classical texts? Chu Hsi believed that it was important to find a foothold within the classics. From his point of view, that is why he worked so hard on his four masters. This was also a reason for the composition of Reflections on Things at Hand; it is well to remember that the Sung philosophers were dedicated educators and evangelists for the task of reviving the Confucian Way according to their interpretation of the texts. Within this classical canon within a canon, it was the Great Learning that set the example for how the classics should be read. If a student could master the Great Learning, then she or he could move on to more com ­ plicated and dense material in the other classics. The promise was that if a student could do this, then she or he would have the tools necessary for a virtuous life, which was the highest good possible for a person wanting to be part of the Confucian Way.

Examining the Commentary If we take the fusion of form and content seriously in commentary, we observe certain features of the structure of Chu H si’s commentary as a genre that teaches by its form as well as its content. Often this commentary style has been attributed to nothing more than a venera­ tion of history. W hile Confucians did venerate history, and although many Confucians probably did resemble the caricatures of those we find in satiric novels as pedants, this is not an entirely satisfactory an­ swer to the deeper question, why commentary in the first place? And why was history itself so important that it needed commentary? If Confucian scholars were so assiduously wedded to the commen­ tary as a favored form of exposition, there must be something about the very structure of this kind of writing and study that has strong affinities with what the Confucians were trying to teach. O f course, in the first

Expanding the Tao

11

instance, the Confucians were trying to teach about tradition, and hence commentary is a very effective and efficient way to go about transmit­ ting the required information over time to let generation after genera­ tion understand what the texts were trying to tell them. The visual impact of these collections gives us a hint, as in the Ssu-shu tsuan-shu (Col­ lected annotations on the Four Books) of C hu’s student Chao Shun-sun (fl. 1243), where the concatenation of the assembled commentaries from C hu’s writings is visually impressive as it presents layer after layer of embedded meaning. This collection contains not only the stan­ dard commentary and sub-commentary, the huo-wen, but also addi­ tional passages taken from Chu H si’s other written and recorded works. The very way in which Chu Hsi decided to reorder the Great Learning is im portant for m ore than textual or even historical rea­ sons. Chu was on much surer grounds philosophically in doing what he did if we grant the hypothesis of the affirm ation of a social self as one o f the goals of C hu’s form of self-cultivation: Still, the text of the Great Learning contained some errata and lacunae and hence, forgetting my rusticity, I edited it. At times also I took that liberty of appending my own ideas and filling in the lacunae—these await [the criticism] of superior men of the future. I know full well that I have overstepped my bound and there is no way for me to escape blame. Yet, in explaining how the state should educate the people and perfect the customs, how the student should cultivate himself and gov­ ern others, this work need not be without some small benefit. (Gardner 1986, 86)

C hu’s argum ent was not based on either a historical attem pt to re­ cover the ur-text of the classic nor a careful philological examination of the internal evidence for its ancient order. Rather, C hu’s under­ standing of the text was tied to his theory o f the transm ission of the Confucian Way from Confucius and M encius down to the Northern Sung. In summary, Chu believed that the grand scope of the Tao was lost or diminished after the death of M encius and was not completely re­ vised in terms of first principles and intent until the great masters of the Northern Sung revival. This meant that many Confucian texts had fallen into disrepair over the intervening centuries and hence there was a need for people like the C h’eng brothers to reinvigorate the tradition because they were in tune with the genuine intent of the early sages and worthies. Chu may have been a rustic, but he was a rustic with a difference: he had the benefit of the cumulative teachings of the North­ ern Sung masters to set him on the right track. For instance, when Chu argued that what we find is a “classic” from

12

Classics and Interpretations

Confucius followed by a commentary by Tseng Tzu, we are imm edi­ ately plunged into a world of M ead’s sociality. Chu says that, “The masters Ch ’eng-tzu said, ‘The Greater Learning is a work handed down from Confucius: it is the gate through which beginning students enter into virtue’” (Gardner 1986,87). We read the world as we read the text because the world is there for us to read and what we contribute is a commentary which, in turn, is added to the world. This reading is al­ ways in service to a higher goal than merely comprehending the verbal structure of the text; it is in service to the virtuous life because it helps us grasp the real meaning of the classic. This kind of basic structure is realistic in that we begin with a world already there for us in the body of the classic text. It is the generalized other that is historically present as we move from what Chu called the smaller learning to the greater learning of the adult. The classic section of the text begins with what Chu called the three general topics or principles of the sages as they begin to instruct the student on the proper way to follow the path of virtue. The three points are (1) the maintenance of one’s “luminous virtue”; (2) reforming or renewing the people; and (3) becoming located in the perfection of goodness. At this point Chu commences his famous or infamous emen­ dations based on the suggestions of C h’eng I. Following C h’eng, Chu reads ch’in, meaning to love or relate to the people, to mean hsin, or to make new or renew. “New is what is meant by renovating the old” (GD 1986, 136; CC la).7 The obvious question, then, is, why doesn’t “to love the people” make sense in this context as opposed to renewing? In order to answer the question of the nature of the emendation we must remind ourselves of what Chu Hsi took to be the role of human nature in the task of moral self-cultivation. According to Chu, a person’s ming-te “is what man acquires from heaven: it is unprejudiced, spiri­ tual, and completely unmuddled and thereby embodies the multitudi­ nous manifestations of principle and responds to the myriad affairs” (Gardner 1986, 89). However, this primal virtue within each person can be unbalanced or confused by the person’s endowment of ch ’i and hence has the possibility of becoming obscured. What Chu means is that our physical nature is prone to be unduly influenced by our desires and, unless we can deal with these desires in a clearheaded fashion, they are likely to lead us astray. P. J. Ivanhoe has an excellent description of how Chu H si’s theory of human nature relates to self-cultivation.8 Ivanhoe argues that Chu, be­ cause of needing to combat Taoist and Buddhist notions of human na­

Expanding the Tao

13

ture, subtly changed M encius’ emphasis on human nature as the sprouts or seeds of goodness into a theory about the fundamental goodness of human nature. The sprouts of goodness then became ‘“ clues’ or ‘indi­ cations’ of what the underlying nature was really like. He (Chu) came to see self-cultivation not as the development of incipient tendencies but as the recovery or release of this “original nature” by refining one’s imperfect and obscuring ‘material nature’” (Ivanhoe 1993,54). To follow Chu’s argument, we need to explore his theory of human nature in order to see how it relates to the concept of a social self and how this complex is served by Chu’s commentary on the Great Learn­ ing. In the first place, every object-event in the world manifests a spe­ cific principle. As Ivanhoe notes, “For Neo-Confucian thinkers, li is both descriptive and normative: when things follow li they are as they ought to be, i.e., they are natural” (Ivanhoe 1993,55). O f course, when things do not follow principle they become unnatural in the sense that the per­ son is unable to manifest what they ought to be and how they are to relate to all other object-events in the world. This principle is the formal ele­ ment of reality and to be natural is to follow human nature as it should be, or as the Great Learning puts it, to make clear our illustrious virtue. The next trait of human nature is, of course, ch ’i (qi), or matterenergy, or any other of a num ber of different English translations of this difficult term. It is a difficult term to render into philosophic En­ glish because it is neither simply matter nor energy nor even vital force. It is the protean matrix of ceaseless generativity out of which all things come and back into which all things go. It can be pure, clear and light and it can also be dark, muddy, turbid and heavy. As Ivanhoe states the issue, “So while all things equally posses all the li, their different en­ dowments of qi make them different, since each thing only manifests certain of the li” (1993, 56). This particular endowment of matter-en­ ergy is called a person’s ts’ai or capacity/talent. W hat Chu teaches is that each person receives an allotment of matter-energy and that this portion of ch’i can be clear or turbid. The degree or strength of the natural inclination to clarity or turbidity will, of course, have an impact on the person’s ability to manifest their principle. Nonetheless, it is only the sages and worthies who have a truly clear allotment and hence have a natural inclination towards virtue. The rest of us have more turbid allotments and need to work more assiduously at our self-culti­ vation. Nonetheless, Chu Hsi holds that human beings have the finest allotment of matter-energy of any living creatures. Although Chu maintains that we must all leam to cultivate our spe­

14

Classics and Interpretations

cific allotments of matter-energy, he holds out the hope that we will be successful and that we will be able to realize our principle. Our matterenergy then becomes transparent to principle and we are able to re­ cover our illustrious virtue as is promised in the opening line of the Great Learning. Chu’s theory of human nature therefore has two wings: there is a principled, formal side, and the dynamic, endowed side consti­ tuted by matter-energy. Some critics have insisted that Chu effectively created a quasi-dualistic view of humanity that separated the formally good principles of humanity from the gross and emotional endowment of matter-energy as the dynamic flow of our human desire. Others tried to show that Chu was not dualistic at all but wanted merely to provide an adequate analysis of human nature and all of its varied parts, includ­ ing the rational, emotional, and moral, as well as the physical. There is a third element to Chu H si’s theory of human nature that lies behind his moral anthropology in the commentary on the Great Learning. Chu does not stop with principle and matter-energy because unless they are united they are useless. W hat unites the formal and dynamic sides of human nature is the mind-heart or hsin. It is interest­ ing to note that for Chu the mind-heart is actually the most refined aspect of the allotment of matter-energy. Its particular excellence is that it can, when cultivated correctly, recognize principle in all its nor­ mative purity. It can become so clear that its limpid character allows the principles to shine through and be acted upon. The dynamics of matter-energy can then be used for morally virtuous purposes. The mind-heart, like many other of Chu Hsi’s concepts, forms a dyad with two modes. As Donald Munro (1988) has chronicled in his study of C hu’s thought, this kind of dipolar balancing of aspects or modes of things is very characteristic of Chu’s method of presenta­ tion.9 In the case of the mind-heart, there is the mind of the Tao and its contrast, the human mind. By human mind or jen-hsin Chu indicates the side of our being that is constituted by our allotment of matterenergy; it is the side of our character that is prone to inordinate selfinterest if it is not clarified by self-cultivation. The mind of the Tao, of course, is that part of us that contains the principles of moral virtue, the normative and formal part of our being. Typically, Chu Hsi suggests two main ways that we can allow our mind of Tao to shine forth and reveal principle. The first part is learn­ ing how to preserve the mind of Tao by means of “honoring the virtu­ ous nature.” In fact, Chu Hsi does teach a form of Confiician meditation called quiet sitting to help with this process. But there is, as one would

Expanding the Tao

15

expect from Chu, a second form of cultivation that is also needed along with tsun te-hsing, namely the complicated act of tao wen-hsiieh or, as Ivanhoe puts it, “pursuing inquiry and study.” This is the elem ent of critical reason qua query that is so important to Chu Hsi that'he took the great risk of inserting a whole supplemental section into the text of the Great Learning in order to show its crucial role in Confucian selfcultivation. The primary praxis of critical reason is the art o f examin­ ing things, or ko-wu. The task of examining things is to encourage the mind-heart to move beyond its own inordinate self-interest and see the world as it actually is. Part of seeing the world as it actually is means that we can then recognize and act not only upon the principles of our own mind-hearts but also in concert with the principles of other people and the diverse things of the world itself. One of the main themes and goals of Chu’s theory of self-cultivation is unity: the unity of principle with matter-energy and the unity of the mind of Tao with the human mind, etc. Along with the dual methods of honoring the virtuous nature and pursuing inquiry and study, there are also two other kinds of effort that are needed to bring these two methods together successfully. The first is the task of cultivating ching or rever­ ence. This is a state of mind as a cultivational achievement, namely rev­ erence for all principles, to which we m ust hold fast in order for self-cultivation to be successful. Ivanhoe writes, “It is difficult to say exactly what this state of mind is like, but perhaps it is best to describe it as an attitude of calm perseverance and reverential attention to the task of self-cultivation” (1993,59-60). The second state of mind that must be developed is ch’eng or sincerity. In terms of Chu Hsi’s thought, he ex­ pands the original meaning of ch’eng as sincerity and makes the term mean something like self-realization as the unity of the mind-heart with matter-energy and principle into one timely process of response to the world. A person is sincere if and only if she or he is able to reverently cultivate the mind-heart so that principle can shine through matter-en­ ergy and so that the human mind can be conformed to the mind of the Tao in service to canonical Confucian virtues. My working hypothesis, explained in great detail in other stud­ ies, is that Chu Hsi often balances his dyads such as principle and m at­ ter-energy by means of a unifying third concept. In this case, the mind-heart serves this unifying function as it harmonizes the specific allotment of ch ’i and the principle as found in human nature or hsing.10 As Cheng Chung-ying has noted, there is a highly characteristic form of C onfucian d iale ctic at w ork here, a d iale ctic o f harm ony and

16

Classics and Interpretations

complementarity rather than fusion and subordination. I have come to believe that one of the reasons that Chu Hsi was loath to depart from what seemed like a dualistic exposition of principle and matter-energy is precisely because of this sensibility that harmony completes various elements of the human person but does not annul or totally destroy the constituent parts within the larger achieved harmony. That is why Chu Hsi will not allow human passion and desire to be declared totally evil. Like everything else that the mind-heart needs to unify, the human passions have a definite place in the life of the sage. For instance, the Confucian sage is enjoined to feel anger when this is the proper emo­ tion if confronted with some kind of persistent and degrading evil. This dialectic of complementarity and Chu H si’s typical sensibility to balance or harmonize his dyads such as principle and matter-energy through the active agency of the mind-heart supports the ideal of a social self as an appropriate model for Confucian person-making. The social self is a balancing act, a person seeking harmony with the inter­ nal passions and inclinations of the body along with interaction with a larger social world. W hat is important about the process is that it never ends, is timely, contextual, and supremely relational. There is the order of principle; there is the order of matter-energy; there is an order of how the specific allotment of ch’i is situated within a specific histori­ cal family, culture, class, gender, nation, and natural and artistic world— and these are only some of the various orders that constitute the person as a social self. One could make the case that the three leading ideals laid down in the opening section of the classic section of the Great Learning mirror Chu H si’s larger philosophic concerns for person making. The first demand of the Great Learning is to keep the luminous virtue clear. This is the claim that we have, within our allotment of matter-energy, the principle of heaven itself, a guiding norm for what true humanity ought to be. The second act is that we not only must renovate this principle in ourselves as our principle, our own hsing, but also need to expand this principle to include all people. Only the full inclusion of all people will be sufficient for us to be able to continue to nurture our own illustrious virtue. In fact, for our own illustrious virtue to be clear or transparent to principle we must reach out to other people because we are social selves and not completely isolated individual substances. As Chu says, “New is what is meant by renovating the old. And when one speaks about making clear illustrious virtue, one should also extend

Expanding the Tao

17

it to the people and cause them also to expel their old stains of corrup­ tion” (GD 1986,136: CC la). The third general principle in the opening sentence is to stop or reside in the perfection of goodness. As Chu notes, this means that we must find this point of perfect goodness and stop there, not letting ourselves rest before we get there or go too far beyond the proper mark. Yet again, the notion of balance or harmony is crucial to stopping or fixing oneself in the good. Chu goes on to state that the perfection of goodness is the extreme point of the very perfection of things them ­ selves: “Thus to speak of making clear the illustrious virtue and reno­ vating the people all means that one should stop (or fix) oneself in the perfection of goodness and not depart from it” (GD 1986,136; CC la). Chu explains that the final goal of this exercise is to conform the self to t ’ien-li or the principle of heaven by means of eliminating even the least bit of selfishness as one of the main perversions of human desire.11 The next section of text goes on to explain in more detail what resid­ ing or fixing oneself in virtue means. The text outlines a procedure whereby one can come to rest in and be steadfast in virtue. The prom­ ise of the text is that if we achieve these ends then we will find peace of mind, serenity and finally the possibility of reflection or the ability to plan ahead. The use of lit, or to be anxious, to consider, to plan ahead or think forward, is suggestive.12It is a kind of reflection that looks to the future with a sense of concern that nothing go wrong. It is a sense of thoughtful anticipation. The point I want to examine here is that peace and serenity of mind leads to reflection. This seems somewhat odd because, at least generally in the Western religious and philosophic tradition, the order would have been reversed so that reflection can give rise to peace and serenity and not the other way around. For Chu this proves that the mind-heart finds a place that does not wander about in selfish human desire but rather remains peaceful and harmonious with the details of the world. In order to be peaceful in true virtue one must probe and examine the things of the world. This kind of observa­ tion prefigures the famous emendation in the commentary of Tseng Tzu concerning the examination of things. The third section of the classic provides us with the metaphor of roots and branches and that things have their beginnings and ends. “One comes near the Way in knowing what to put first and what to put last” (Gardner 1986, 91). Chu comments that the illustrious virtue is the root and that renovating the people is the branch. He goes on to note that, “ .. .knowing where to stop is the beginning and having the ability

18

Classics and Interpretations

to do this is the end” (GD 1986, 137; CC lb). Immediately following these comments we then move to section four and the outline of the eight steps that the ancient sages undertook in order to regulate their countries, families and personal lives. The last element in this progres­ sion is the thesis that, “ .. .the extension of knowledge lies in fully ap­ prehending the principle in things” (Gardner 1986,92). Chu Hsi avers that the desire for the knowledge of things is completely satisfied if and only if the perfection of virtue is realized within the context of the social world of the person, a world that stretches from primordial fam ­ ily ties into the governance of the empire. The fifth section then reverses the process of personal self-cultiva­ tion and works the eight steps back towards the fully moral governance of the empire. Chu makes the rather broad assertion that this perfection of self and society anticipates the full social perfection of knowledge such that, “...there is nothing that my mind-heart does not know” (GD 1986,93-94; CC lb). Chu also notes that the rectification of the mindheart through self-cultivation in these eight steps fully defines the cul­ tivation and constitution of the social self. Here the self is social because it only becomes a true self when it is rectified in terms of the family, the state and then the world. The concluding sixth and seventh classic sections reinforce the notion that what is at stake here is the cultivation of the self so that the important and trivial aspects of personhood will not be confused; roots and branches must be sorted out as to their proper functions. Chu ends his observations on these sections by saying that these 205 characters are the words of Confucius and are the root (per­ son) of the teaching of the Great Learning, and that the following com­ mentary (the world) of Tseng Tzu then serves as an explication of their meaning. I have begun to feel like Goethe’s Faust, unable to move beyond the very first line of his study of the Gospel of John. At least this feeling does justice to what Chu Hsi believed to be the gateway to the classics and the guide to achieving a proper realization of the person. Either the point has been made in terms of the commentary as a genre for selfcultivation, or we must find another image of Chu Hsi’s attempt to expand the Tao by means of creating a social self. O f course, it is cru­ cial to C hu’s philosophy that we all must take responsibility for the Confucian Way and in doing so enlarge it. The world is not closed, and the images of the tree and the family surely teach that there is growth to be found in the formation of the person. Each one of us is a new construction, and we will have to read carefully Tseng Tzu’s many

Expanding the Tao

19

literary and historical points about the cultivation of the self as an auto­ commentary on how we live in a world surrounded by other people and the memory of our collective history as a people governed by the civil­ ity of ritual. Your commentary will be based on a different situation from mine; the root will always be our own self, but the world will be the branches, and we help weave these branches together into the Confucian habitat of meaning. The self is never merely an individual but always a person in relation to others seeking the renovation of the world through virtuous conduct and the examination of all that can possibly be or become.

Notes 1.

2.

3. 4.

For an excellent study of the history of the composition of the commentary and its place in Chu Hsi’s thought see Daniel K. Gardner, Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsiieh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon (Cambridge: Harvard Uni­ versity Press, 1986). Gardner has also provided us with a complete new transla­ tion of the Great Learning based on Chu’s commentary as well as extensive translations from Chu’s commentary itself and other writings about the classic. Patrick Edwin Moran, Three Small Wisdom Books: Lao ZVs Dao De Jing, The Great Learning (Da Xue), and the Doctrine o f the Mean (Zhong Yong) (Lanham: University Press of America, 1993), has also translated the Great Learning using Chu Hsi’s text. In an earlier generation we also have E. R. Hughes, The Great Learning and the Mean-in-Action (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, Inc., 1943). Hughes agrees with the notion of the self as social construction insofar as it expresses a relational view of reality. “The western [philosophic tradition] has tended to see reality as substance, the Chinese to see it as relationship” (Hughes 1943, 52). Furthermore, Hughes noted that all is also in a constant state of trans­ formation. Hughes believed that Chu’s notion of principle was a way to intro­ duce a more formal and enduring element into this Chinese inclination to see change and relationship everywhere. In this Hughes noticed a similarity between Chu Hsi and Leibniz. There is presently a debate about just what to call Sung philosophy. The tradi­ tion for the last few decades has been to label it Neo-Confucianism. A number of scholars, such as Peter Bol, Hoyt Tillman, and Lionel Jensen, have questioned the accuracy of such a label. It is not that they would argue that Chu Hsi was not a Confucian; their collective complaint is that the term Neo-Confucianism cov­ ers too much territory and that we have now gotten to a point in our studies of Confucian thought such that we need to be more precise in our labels. For in­ stance, one suggestion is that we now call Chu Hsi’s thought Sung moral phi­ losophy in order to distinguish it from the work of other Sung masters such as Ou-yang Hsiu, Ssu-ma Kuang, and Su Shih. By calling Chu’s philosophy a moral philosophy is to honor his achievement in synthesizing a particular branch of the wider Sung fellowship of thinkers now encompassed by the general term NeoConfucian. See note 6 for an explanation of form, dynamics, and unification. Alison Harley Black (1989), in her brilliant philosophic study of Wang Fu-chih, makes much the same point but suggests a different name for this tendency.

20

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

Classics and Interpretations Black calls the root metaphor “expression.” While it is true that Wang Fu-chih was a critic of Chu Hsi, it could be argued that Wang’s criticism only serves to bring out an aspect of Chu’s thought that deserves to be accentuated, namely the notion of root metaphor of purposive act or expression. It is very important to remember that Mou Tsung-san holds that Chu Hsi essen­ tially hijacked the Northern Sung Confucian reform through the brilliance of his work, despite the fact that he and Ch’eng I represent an branch development of what ought to have been the Mencian mainline of the revival. This Mencian mainline is better presented by thinkers such as Ch’eng Hao and the later follow­ ers of the now much neglected Hu school. In terms of Ming thought, Mou con­ siders Liu Tsung-chou as the paradigmatic model of what a Mencian mainline Confucian thinker ought to be. It is not that Mou denies Chu Hsi a place, but Mou prefers to interpret Chu as a great and slightly off-center branch of the Sung revival rather than the main trunk of its growth. Elsewhere I have suggested that Chu Hsi often worked in a triadic fashion, mak­ ing use of what I call a pattern of form, dynamics, and unification. Principle is the formal side of things just as matter-energy is the dynamic matrix wherein form gives shape and harmony to the object-events as they come to be. The mind-heart, for the human being, is the element of unity that brings form and dynamics together in the balance called harmony, the form of life that Confucian self-cultivation seeks to embody. See John H. Berthrong, All under Heaven: Trans­ forming Paradigms in Confucian-Christian Dialogue (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), 83-101.1 plan further expansion of this idea in the forthcoming comparative Concerning Creation (forthcoming, State University of New York Press, 1998). For convenience’s sake, I will use the Chinese text as found in Gardner’s 1986 study, which is itself based on the Ssu-pu pei yao edition. When I quote Gardner directly I will cite this as “Gardner 1986,” but when I offer my own variant translation I will cite the text as “GD 1986.” I believe that Gardner has provided us with a superlative translation, but I sometimes want to make a special point and therefore occasionally provide my own reading in order to clarify the issues at hand. I have chosen to follow Ivanhoe here not because he has written the most exten­ sive study of Chu but because it is such a coherent and balanced summary of Chu’s theory of self-cultivation. See Philip J. Ivanhoe, Confucian Moral Self Cultivation (New York: Peter Lang, 1993). For longer studies see Munro (1988) and Tillman (1992). Ivanhoe has a knack for briefly presenting the outcome of the studies of Chu Hsi that have been going on for the last three decades in the West and East Asia. Another reason for this dipolar balancing of traits may be because of another element of Chu’s deep structure. Along with the organic nature of Chu’s philoso­ phy, many scholars have suggested that there is a perspectival element to his thinking in that each and every person has a principle and that this principle is given an allotment of matter-energy. One of the characteristics of matter-energy is that it locates any object-event with a particular perspective. For instance, that is why history is so important. The Confucians realized that time makes a differ­ ence in that things change and that we have different perspectives on a different configuration of reality. Another way, which we cannot explore here, to look at this aspect of Chu’s thought is to consider the ordinal or perspectival thought of Justus Buckler as presented as an ordinal metaphysics by Ross. See Stephen David Ross, Transition to an Ordinal Metaphysics (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1980). Ross argues that one of the characteristics of theories

Expanding the Tao

21

that take position, order and perspective seriously is a proclivity to work in a series of complementary traits, such as the typical and the atypical, the relevant and the absent, etc. 10. Of course, the assumption here is that Chu Hsi has one coherent view of the mind-heart. As Matthew Levey demonstrated in his paper on the metaphysics of reading and the mind-heart, this is not the only reading of Chu Hsi’s theory of hsin. Levey’s argument is that Chu had a least two distinct views of the mindheart: (1) the mind-heart that observes and administrates nature and the self, and (2) the mind-heart as a bicameral mind-heart that moves between the principles of heaven and the human desires. My notion of the mind-heart as the unifying element in Chu Hsi’s generation of the social self is an example of the adminis­ trative mind. Because of the vast range of Chu Hsi’s writing, both can be sus­ tained by important texts. And, of course, Chu Hsi would not be the only great philosopher who changed his mind or was even of two minds about important topics. 11. This is the kind of statement that made many Ch’ing Confucians such as Wang Fu-chih nervous about Chu Hsi’s thought. If one were overly influenced by Tao­ ist and Buddhist thought, it was easy, Wang believed, to take Chu Hsi to be saying that there was something fundamentally wrong with human desire. But this is not precisely what Chu was saying. What bothered Chu here was the selfishness possible in human desire. Without inordinate self-interest there is nothing essentially wrong with desire as we have argued above. 12. The New Confucian Mou Tsung-san has suggested that the fundamental root metaphor of the whole tradition is what he calls concern consciousness. Although Mou is not a fan of the Great Learning, because he views it as too much a part of the kind of thinking found in Hsiin Tzu and Chu Hsi, this phrasing serves to illustrate his point about the nature of Confucian thought as always being con­ cerned about the self in the world.

References Berthrong, John H. All under Heaven: Transforming Paradigms in Confucian-Christian Dialogue. Albany : State University of New York Press, 1994. Black, Alison Harley. Man and Nature in the Philosophic Thought o f Wang Fu-chih. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1989. Chu, Hsi. Chu Hsi: Learning to Be a Sage, Selections from the Conversations o f Master Chu, Arranged Topically. Edited and translated by Daniel K. Gardner. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Dilworth, David A. Philosophy in Word Perspective: A Comparative Hermeneutics o f the Major Theories. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Gardner, Daniel K. Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsiieh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986. Henderson, John B. Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison of Confucian and Western Exegesis. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Ivanhoe, Philip J. Confucian Moral Self Cultivation. New York: Peter Lang. The Rockwell Lecture Series, vol. 3, 1993. Munro, Donald J. Images o f Human Nature: A Sung Portrait. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988. Odin, Steve. The Social Self in Zen and American Pragmatism. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996.

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Ross, Stephen David. Transition to an Ordinal Metaphysics. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1980. Tillman, Hoyt Cleveland. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Hono­ lulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1992. Van Zoeren, Steven. Poetry and Personality: Reading, Exegesis, and Hermeneutics in Traditional China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991. Watson, Walter. The Architectonics o f Meaning: Foundations o f the New Pluralism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993.

2 The Daxue at Issue: An Exercise of Onto-Hermeneutics (On Interpretation of Interpretations) Chung-ying Cheng T h e importance of the Daxue as a canonical text of classical Confu­ cianism is beyond any serious doubt. As a chapter from the Small Dai Liji, it became an independent text in the Northern Song1and became settled in various versions with emendations and annotations in the hands of the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi. It is well known that Zhu Xi (1130-1200) prepared detailed commentaries on the Four Books called Sishu Zhangju, which became the basis of the state examination of the Imperial Court from 1313 to 1905. The domination of the Zhu Xi com­ mentary on the Daxue met the challenge of Wang Yangming (14721529) in the Ming Period: he suspected that Zhu X i’s text was wrongly arranged, which led to his argument for the need of making up a miss­ ing commentary on the meanings of the phrase gewu zhizhi. Zhu X i’s commentary on gewu zhizhi contains a philosophy of un­ derstanding li, “principles,” in things which are distinct and indepen­ dent from activities of the understanding of the mind. In opposition, Wang Yangming wanted to restore the original text of the Daxue from which he saw no need to interpose a philosophy of investigation of things and their /is, and more importantly, from which one could argue that the mind embodies the li, and in fact is the li—namely the li is always in the mind, not in things without the mind. One can clearly see that Wang Yangming’s argument for an older or an original text of the Daxue was ideologically motivated as well. But he nevertheless raised 23

24

Classics and Interpretations

the question of correctly arranging, understanding, and interpreting the text. We may also see that there is also the final question on which philosophy— Zhu X i’s “xing jili” or his “xin jili ”— is a better para­ digm for reading and interpreting the original text of the Daxue. But what is the original text of the Daxue! The original text Wang Yangming chose was the Zheng Xuan (127-200) text deprived of Zheng’s commentaries. In arguing for the validity of this text Wang Yangming says: When the old text is dissected, the meaning of the sage is lost. Thus, not concen­ trating on the effort of making sincere one’s intentions (chengyi), and devoting oneself to investigating things (gewu) is called ‘branching’ (zhi)\ but not concerned with investigation of things, and only devoting oneself to making sincere one’s intentions is called ‘emptiness’ (xu). Not based on extension of knowledge and yet concentrating only on making sincere intentions and investigation of things is called ‘absurdity’ (wang). Whether branching, empty, or absurd, all these are far away from the supreme good. I now assemble [all the separated chapters of the old text] into a whole with respectfulness. [It is also clear] that the more one wants to supplement the separated text with a commentary the more one will move away from the original meaning of the text. I fear that this form of study will deviate from the supreme good on a daily basis. Hence I remove the separation of sections and restore the old text version.2

From this implicit critique of Zhu Xi, we see the charges of sporadic branching, lost-in-emptiness, and absurdity in Zhu X i’s emendation and interpretation of the Daxue text. These are ideological charges based on W ang’s perception of Zhu X i’s philosophy. Since Wang sees Zhu X i’s philosophy as wrong, he sees Zhu X i’s interpretation of the Daxue as wrong. To correct this interpretation, Wang feels he has to restore the old text and give it a new interpretation. For Wang this move is necessary, and he considers that his own interpretation is more in con­ formity with the unemended text, meanwhile forgetting that his own interpretation could be similarly a reflection of his own philosophical pre-understanding and his own personal reflections. So now the issue is whether there are independent reasons for Zhu Xi to rearrange, emend and section the old text or for Wang Yangming to insist on the original order and sequence of the guben text as the basis for proposing his own interpretation of the Daxue. We may further query: Can a text stand by itself to suggest an interpretation? W hat is the basic ground or the starting point of such an interpretation? Can we retrieve the original meaning of a given text? Does the meaning of a text reside in its his­ tory (known or unknown) or in an interpretation given by a leading philosopher? Is there always a point of view presupposed in interpret­

The D axue at Issue

25

ing a given text? Thus, with regard to the Daxue text, how would Wang Yangming prove his charges against Zhu Xi?

Three Levels of Meaning: Onto-hermeneutical Analysis Here we come to many questions regarding logic, meaning, evidence, interpretation, and rational argument in the interpretation of a text. We have also to face questions of viewpoint and motivation in the common use of language as well as in interpretation. It is unfortunate that so far we do not have a thorough study of such questions.3 We can see that all these questions are related to various aspects or dimensions of herme­ neutics which concern the validity and truth of understanding and in­ terpreting a text. In this regard, perhaps, we could propose that we have at least three fundamental levels of meaning in any interpretation of a text which require our close attention and analysis. No doubt, these three levels of meaning are involved in Wang Yangming’s criticism of Zhu Xi and in his own reinterpretation of the Daxue text. There is in the first place the linguistic level where the meaning of a term, a phrase, a sentence, or a paragraph of a given text is determined by etymology, common usage, and well-recognized syntax and seman­ tics. This level of consideration will provide evidence of the actual structure or the would-be structure of a given text. Because of this, we do require as a matter of logical reason that the given text conforms to a consistent (as much as possible) pattern of organization in light of inherited common meanings of words and accepted rules of grammar. Second, there is then the conceptual or theoretical level where m eanings are m atters and results o f a theory or a principle based on independent reasons. This conceptual or theoretical consideration could come from the text itself, as the text could be conceived as a work of theoretical thinking belonging to a school of philosophy or to an independent thinker. The theory can be suggested by the present text and become expounded by the interpreter, or it can be simply an imposition derived from the interpreter’s own philosophy, which how­ ever could make good sense or good use of the given text via its inter­ pretation. On this level one may have to go beyond common usage and history in appealing to certain assum ed or presupposed truths or insights in order to extend or transform the meanings of term s and phrases of the given text as a holistic framework of connections of concepts and propositions. Finally, there is the ontological level, where the question of ulti­

26

Classics and Interpretations

mate truth of the interpretation is raised. It is the question directed to the ultimate standard of validity of the theory which is presupposed or proposed in the interpretation of a given text. W hat would be the ultimate standard of validity of a theory in an interpretation if it is not a m atter of disclosing or constructing a world of reality which can be believed or acted upon? In other words, we have to see this question of theoretical truth as a m atter of ontological truth, for truth is a concept which is rooted in reality. Here we may have to provide some clarification on this use of the term truth or ultimate truth where an understanding of the truth of a text is derived from an understand­ ing of the ultimate reality. One can speak of various theories of truth— the redundancy theory, the correspondence theory, the coherence theory, the pragmatic theory, etc.— but in a sense all these theories of truth are theories of reality or theories of interpreting reality as such and such. In speaking of truth as based on reality I do not necessarily argue for a theory of correspondence which requires a presupposed understanding of real­ ity. But I do assume that in any representation of reality there m ust be a presentation of reality, and one could approach this presentation in various ways: one might see it as the best bet one has reached upon consideration of all factors in constructing or construing truth. It can be conceived as a reasoned-out belief which has exhausted all evi­ dence and has taken account of all reasons, and which finally gives rise to the best possible understanding of the world in which one could act meaningfully. It is in this sense that we could speak of the truth or reality as a construction or disclosure, depending upon the kind of understanding one may have. In the final analysis, we see reality as a construction if we approach it on the subjective side, and see it as a disclosure if we approach it on the objective side. But the ultimate criterion for the validity of reality is that it is both a construction and a disclosure because one can have evidence and reasons from both subjective and objective sides. It is then a commitment of belief as well as a recognition of what is given, from which values and actions can arise. In this sense we can speak of the ontological commitment in the double sense of ontological recog­ nition and ontological construction. When meaning is based or grounded on an ontological commitment one can have an onto-hermeneutical understanding of meaning and reality, whereby meaning is reality and reality is meaning. Our consideration of the first level of meaning of a text leads to the

The D axue at Issue

27

requirement of formal consistency. Our consideration of the second level of meaning of a text leads to the requirement of theoretical coher­ ence. Finally, our consideration of the third level of meaning leads to the requirement of ontological truthfulness. It must be pointed out that all these three kinds of considerations are interrelated and interdepen­ dent. We have to see them as forming a hermeneutical circle of levels, according to which the formal consistency with its historical and com ­ mon-sense understanding of a text on the first level of meaning will lend support to a second level of meaning, namely the theoretical level, which in its turn will lend support to the third level of meaning, namely the ontological level. Similarly, if one starts with the ontological truth as the first step, it is easy to see how one could construe a theory con­ genial with one’s insight into reality in a framework of conceptual un­ derstanding. With a theory given, one could then construe the given language in conjectures of linguistic meaning or in favorable possibili­ ties of textual interpretation which belongs to the first level of meaning. It is clear that just as the ontological truth can be simultaneously the motivating, contributing, and constraining conditions of theory and lan­ guage, so theory and in turn language can be both the contributing and constraining condition of ontological truth. Since the ultimate deter­ mining factor, whether explicit or implicit, of the formation of a com ­ prehensive and coherent system is one’s deliberate view or confirmed understanding of reality which can be either the goal or the starting point of understanding, it could be used as a basis for integrating and balancing considerations of the supports from other two levels. We may in fact refer to this circle of hermeneutical understanding as the “onto-hermeneutic circle,” and represent it in the following way: First Level:

X

Ontological truth on the philosophical level

X

Second Level: Theoretical cogency on the conceptual level

x Third Level:

x Textual integrity/consistency on the linguistic level

It is obvious from this circle that an ideal interpreter has to move among or between the levels in order to achieve a balanced view or a coherent interpretation of a given text which would preserve ontological truth, theoretical cogency, and textual integrity all at the same time. But this is not to say that an ideal interpreter must give equal weight to each value on each level of the hermeneutical circle, for he could insist on the

28

Classics and Interpretations

importance of a given level and change elements on other levels to suit or support the view that he embraces. Sometimes he may simply ignore considerations of other levels and let others (supporters or critics) draw their own conclusions. As to the question of which level an interpreter should normally direct his attention, onto-hermeneutics would no doubt answer that an emphasis should be placed on the ontological level, for what is as­ sumed or believed in onto-hermeneutics is that ontological truth can be shown to be the most important and determining factor for the inter­ pretation of a text on any level of meaning or in regard to the balancing of meanings on all levels. It can be thus argued that we should consider the meaning of a text as engendered from a hermeneutical circle as reflecting or containing a meaning from the corresponding onto-hermeneutical circle. It amounts to saying that any hermeneutical circle can be considered an implicit onto-hermeneutical circle, even though mean­ ing from the ontological level has to be retrieved from the context or the background assumptions. Thus, for example, in works of textual criticism ( xungu kaozheng/ hanxue) in the Qianjia period (1736-1821) of the Qing, notably those of Hui Dong, the Song spirit of searching for ontological truth is com­ pletely abolished to give way to the Eastern Han spirit of searching for “original meanings” of the Confucian Classics.4 Hence it is said that one should not search for truth or non-truth (buwen zhen bu zheri) but instead should only seek han or non -han (weiwen han bu ban). There is no denying that both Hui Dong and early Dai Zhen have made great contributions in the field of classical Chinese phonology and philol­ ogy, and have used their findings to authenticate or to disauthenticate, and hence to correct, revise and emend many classical texts. But there is no real substitution of the puxue for either lixue, xinxue, or shixue, because no philological research can establish or falsify a question of truth and reality which belongs to a different level of hermeneutical thinking. It occurred to Dai Zhen to make this point right after the death of Hui Dong: In searching for ancient texts of the Classics one finds that they are lost and there is no way to cross the gap between the ancient and the present. Hence we come to seek the ancient commentaries or notes (guxun) (in the Han period). Once gushun are made clear, then the ancient Classics would become illuminated; once the an­ cient Classics had become illuminated, then the principles and insights (yili) of the sages would be also clarified, and finally, what I feel that is the same (regarding those principles and insights) would thereby become clear....Those who divide

The D axue at Issue

29

guxun and yili into two is to advocate guxun not for the purpose of clarifying yili, what then is the purpose of seeking the gushutil5

It is not accidental that in the end Dai Zhen recognized the ontological level of seeking reality and truth in his later works such as Yuanshan and Mengzi zhiyi shuzheng. My point is that the matter of questioning textual consistency should be incorporated as a basic requirement in the whole onto-hermeneutical project, while the ontological criterion should be applied in order to assess the systematic value of any pro­ posed system of interpretation. An ideal interpreter must face pres­ sures from requirements on these three different levels of meaning, and constrain or develop his interpretation in view of their correspond­ ing requirements or implicit purposes. Perhaps, like anyone who faces conflicting values or demands, he would have to achieve a kind of “re­ flective equilibrium ” in presenting his reasons for his interpretation. It is from these reflections on the methodology of onto-hermeneutical analysis that we can evaluate the issue of conflicting interpretations of the Daxue text— from Zhu X i’s innovative organization and inter­ pretation of the Daxue text to Wang Yangming’s sharp critique of Zhu Xi and his own proposed restoration of the “old text” of the Daxue. We shall first examine the meaning issue of the Daxue guben text on the linguistic level of textual consistency, and then move on to the theo­ retical level of conceptual cogency, and finally come to the philosophi­ cal level of ontological truth. Given analysis of interpretation of the Daxue in this fashion, we will be in a better position to adjudge the relevant positions of Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming and perhaps to inte­ grate them for a more comprehensive view of the Daxue. We will then be able to render some insights into the nature of the Daxue as a text as well as a system of philosophy.

On the Linguistic Level of Textual Integrity In order to compare Zhu X i’s zhangju text (ZT) of the Daxue with Zheng X uan’s guben text (which Wang Yangming adopted), we should first section Zheng’s text (XT) according to the natural semantic flow of his text. Then we shall be able to see how Zhu Xi arranged Zheng’s text and whether he was justified in doing so. We shall take note of these m ajor changes and make comments according to the principle of language consistency with its implications for the principles of theo­ retical coherence and ontological truthfulness.

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Classics and Interpretations

1. Zhu Xi removes the sentence “ciwei zhiben, ciwei zhizhizhi ye” at the end o f X T ’s first natural paragraph and attaches it to the end of section 3 in ZT. But does this make better sense? It is apparent that in X T’s first section, this sentence is precisely a capturing of the obvi­ ously intended meaning of the first section, the section on the canons and steps of the great learning of a person. The phrase zhiben (knowing the roots) and zhizhizhi (the obtaining of knowing) describe the major theses of the Daxue as announced in the first section. Zhu X i’s re­ location does not generate more meaning, nor does it appear to be more natural in the narrative sequence; hence it is an artificial move. But for Zhu Xi this may be a genuinely believed crucial move, and, but not because, it would constitute a need for a commentary on the gewu zhizhi. But on behalf of the XT, one might argue that gewu zhizhi simply means knowing the three canons and the eight steps with the first two steps representing knowledge of the three canons. One may also argue in favor of the old order in terms of two more content items of the first section of XT or ZT. (A) It is said that xiushen (self-cultivation) is a universal basis for both the Son of Heaven and the common people. Hence the essential steps of the great learning are xiushen/qijia/zhiguo/pingtianxia, which can be considered outer manifestations and in-action practices of the virtue which one has acquired within one’s heart-mind, and which would constitute the result of the inner cultivation of a person. (B) For the inner cultivation of the person, the first paragraphs of XT and ZT suggest “gewu zhizhi” and “ chengyi zhengxin.” For gewu zhizhi, one may argue that it was explained in the subsection regarding the connections of zhizhi-youding-nengjing-nengan-nenglii-nengde. Hence there is no need to have a separate commentary on gewu zhizhi, not only because no such commentary is intended or missing, but also because it is uncalled for. This is Wang Yangming’s point. 2. Zhu Xi has intended his sections 2-3 to be illustrations of the three canons, which are taken from section 3 of XT. He has also rearranged the order of those quotations from the Book of Poetry and Book o f History in order to correspond to the order of the three canons. This seems to be a logical and reasonable move, for this does generate a clearer pattern of the illustration of the canons. However, there does not seem to be any reason to make an independent section 4 or section 5 in his ZT even with a notice on superfluous sentence. In light of the above there is no reason why we cannot retain this new arrangement together with the first sec­ tion of XT. There is no reason for a section 4 or 5 in ZT.

The Daxue at Issue

31

3. Zhu Xi has moved section 2 in XT to form the sixth section of his ZT, which begins the explanation of individual steps of the Daxue. This apparently is a logical move, for in light of the natural sequence of the ZT it would link directly to the sequence of explanation of all steps of self-cultivation in classical Confucianism. For the XT, it is not obvious why this section on the explanation of the chengyi must be placed here before the quotations which illustrate the meaning of the three canons. This may be a wrong placement which needs to be cor­ rected, and Zhu Xi has made the correction. But the consequence of this move is that for ZT it clearly creates a hiatus for the need of an explanation of the process of gewu to zhizhi and the need of an expla­ nation of the process of zhizhi to chengyi. In the XT it has been sug­ gested that such explanations may not be called for, as the ideas of zhiben and zhizhi would suggest a content for gewu zhizhi. (See below for theoretical understanding of gewu zhizhi.) Given the above analysis of the m ajor changes from XT to ZT, one can see that, although there is good reason for some rearrangements in ZT, other moves are unjustifiable on the part of Zhu Xi. In a sense it is Zhu Xi him self who has created his own problem of the need for a commentary on the gewu zhizhi concepts. In comparing the XT with ZT, we can see how a few scholars in the Yuan and M ing periods (such as Zhu Yizun, Wang Bei, Fang Xiaoru, Huang Zheng, Jing Xing, etc.), apart from Wang Yangming, have protested against such moves and argued vigorously that no commentaries on gewu zhizhi were ever miss­ ing or needed. They all pointed out that the paragraph “wuyou benmo, shiyou zhongshi, bingzhiqi xianhou” gives sufficient meaning or core meaning to the “gewu zhizhi” concept. In contemporary times, Profes­ sor Yan Lingfeng has devoted a whole volume to the study of the rear­ rangement issue and has suggested his own version of the Daxue titled Daxue Zhangju Xinbian (New version of Daxue chapters and sen­ tences).6 He also argues for keeping the order of the first section of XT so that gewu zhizhi can be explained as zhiben (knowing the roots) and zhizhi (knowing the goal or knowing where to rest). Yet he agrees with Zhu Xi by moving Section 2 of XT to link to the explanation of zhengxin. He has contributed much to the clarity of the linguistic presentation of the Daxue text. Yet he did not forget to pay tribute to Zhu X i’s philo­ sophical innovation of the commentaries on gewu zhizhi, even though he disagrees with Zhu Xi regarding the rearrangement of the text. Nevertheless, Professor Yan’s version is itself not free from prob­ lems, because he has eliminated some quotations and explanations from

32

Classics and Interpretations

the guben text without good justification. For example, he eliminated the Shijing quotation on “zhanbi qiao..." and its explanation in refer­ ence to the daoxue, zhixiu, shunli, and weiyi of a superior man (pre­ sumably in the Confucian sense) on the ground that it has nothing to do with zhizhi (knowing where to rest).7 However, I am not sure about this. In light of the suggested meaning of gewu zhizhi, this quotation and its explanation seem to indicate a mode of study being described as “ ruqie rucuo/ruzuo rumo” (like cutting with a stone and grinding with a jade). This would be very much in support of a perception and a description of how a superior man may meet with things and matters in the world and obtain his knowledge thereof.

On the Conceptual Level of Theoretical Cogency Based on the textual consistency of the above, we may now deal with some of the theoretical issues involving perception of the mean­ ing of certain concepts and propositions in the Daxue. The first impor­ tant question is how should gewu zhizhi be understood and then interpreted. The second important question is what motivated Zhu Xi to write his commentary on gewu zhizhi. For answering the first question it is important to notice that the meaning of gewu depends on how we understand meaning of ge. The challenge of how to interpret gewu was as acute in Zhu X i’s time as it is today. If, however, we wish to look into the meaning of ge in ancient times as a clue for understanding the meaning of gewu, we can see two possible perceived meanings, each of which could be the basis for an interpretation of gewu. Referring to the pre-Confucian Classics, we may note that ge is al­ ways used in the sense of “arrive” or “come.” Thus, in the Book o f Documents we see statements like “guang bi sibiao, ge yu shangxia” (Yaodian), “ge ru shun” (Shundian), “ge ru yu ” (Dayumo), “zukao lai ge” (Yiji), “ge yu huangtian” (Shuoming), “ge zhi tianming” (Dahao); “xian ge “ (Luohao), “ tianti ge bao” (Shaohao). In Mao Poetry, we also read the following: “sheng bao shi ge, baoyi jiefu” (Chuci), “sheng zhi ge si, bu ke du si, shen ke she si?” (Daya/Yi). In Erya, “ge” is explicitly given the meaning of “zhi" (arrive), “sheng" (arise), and “lai” (come). But it is interesting to note that by the time of Confucius, “ge” has acquired a new meaning in its use as shown in the following: “daozhi yide, qizhi yili, youci qie ge” (Weizheng), where the “ge” means “frame up” and thus by extension means “has self-discipline” or “follow

The D axue at Issue

33

norms.” This change of meaning is definitely followed up in Liji such as in “ Fumin jiaozhi yide, qizhi yili, cemin you ge-xin” (Ziyi 33) and “yan youwu erxingyou ge ye ” (Ziyi 3.) or “gan ge er busheng” (Xueji). But we also note that the original meaning of “arrive” for ge is still preserved in Liji statements such as “ baofeng lai ge” (Yueling 6). In the Mencius, however, we do find “ge” in a more extended Confucian sense of rectifying, thus “ wei daren weineng ge junxin zhifei” (Lilou).8 In light of this change of meaning, “gewu” in the Daxue can be le­ gitimately said to represent an effort that is made to understand things and matters for the purpose of knowledge. “Gewu” is not simply “wuge” in the sense that “things arrive and come,” but that one has to do some­ thing to things and matters in order to have knowledge of things. It represents an effort on the part of the inquiring person. Then the ques­ tion is what is to be done by the person who would “gewu” to reach knowledge? My answer to this question is that no one has any right to say one particular thing over another, but anyone can say anything from one’s experience in arriving at knowledge. As we know, knowledge comes from learning, experience, practice, reflection, and thinking. Hence the right way to get knowledge from things is to learn, experience, practice, reflect, and think about things. But the term “ge” may not immediately suggest this: it is a term in­ tended to suggest “to frame up” things so that one may say or articulate a norm or standard (which could be called “knowledge”) about it. “Ge” is apparently the basis or the starting point for knowing as a process of activity. But whether one gets knowledge from “ge” is a matter of how a person actually engages him self with things or how he actually acts on things. In this regard, when Wang Yangming wanted to investigate (ge) bamboo, he became sick after seven days of trying. It is apparent that he did not know how to do “gewu” with regard to bamboos. It is also apparent that Zhu X i’s method of “exhausting principles right at things” (jiwu qiongli) did not seem to help Wang to get knowledge of the bamboo. Thus, he had to give up trying to do gewu in the intended or unintended sense of Zhu Xi. This no doubt led him to suggest a new interpretation of the concept of “gewu,” namely to interpret “gewu” as “rectifying affairs” (zheng-shi) by way of “making sincere one’s inten­ tions” (chengyi).9 As we shall see, this interpretation is premised on Wang’s doctrine of “heart-mind being the principle” (xinjili), which again is founded on Wang’s profound experience of the reality of the heartmind. One possible understanding of gewu in the guben Daxue is to iden­

34

Classics and Interpretations

tify it as the means of reaching knowledge in a specific sense as de­ scribed in the text. This specific knowledge is twofold: “knowledge of roots” (zhiben) and “knowledge of ultimate ends” (zhizhi). Knowledge of roots consists in knowing cultivation of the person as the root of regulation of family, ordering of the state and pacification of the world. It is to know that for any achievement of value beyond the person one has to start with the cultivation of the person. In the first sentence of the Daxue it is stated that the way of Great Learning lies in “mingmingde, qinmin, and zhi yu zhishan.” A person has to illuminate his bright virtue in himself, and this brings the root of self-cultivation to an inner beginning which is explained in terms of gewu zhizhi and chengyi zhengxin. In this light to know the roots is to know gewu zhizhi as the roots of all moral and creative activities. Hence the importance of gewu zhizhi. This is a normative knowledge which requires much reflection, observation, and practice from a person. Regarding the knowledge of ends, one has to know the supreme good as the end. The supreme end for the Daxue apparently is to pacify the world; not only should one cultivate and refine oneself, but also make everyone cultivated and refined. This is no doubt a natural out­ come of the practice of the Confucian motto “jiyuli eryuliren, jiyuda erdaren.” As the Daxue has presented the roots and ends of the moral life of a person, one can see that knowledge of them is given in the Daxue, and there is no difficulty in understanding the requirement of zhizhi (reaching [for] knowledge), for the requirement is to know the roots and ends of the moral cultivation of a person. In light of this interpretation of zhizhi, we need not a commentary but only an illustra­ tion, which nevertheless is already given in the guben Daxue in the form of quotations of certain poems and mottoes from Shijing and Shujing. It is said in the first section of the guben that “This is knowing the roots. This is the arrival or the ultimate of knowing” (ciwei zhizhizhi ye). This means that to know is to know roots and to know ends. Inso­ far as “gewu” can be restated as “wuge” it can be construed as zhizhi (reaching [for] knowledge) and finally as “zhizhizhi” or the arrival of knowledge. In this sense we can then see the possibility of interpreting gewu simply as zhizhi, for once we have knowledge we have already done our gewu. It is a good move in Professor Yan’s rearranged text to collect all statements on “zhizhi” (knowing where to rest) together right after the statements on “zhiben” (knowing the source or roots). The last canon of the three canons of the Daxue tells us to “rest with the supreme

The D axue at Issue

35

good” (zhiyu zhishan). The notion of “zhi” (rest, stop) is a figurative reference to where to stop and rest in one’s activity and pursuit. Every­ thing will rest somewhere in some way. For living things it is their nature to lead to where to rest. It is in this sense that the zhi is not only where one’s nature leads one to, but also where one’s nature should lead one to, such as is indicated in a bird’s choosing of a resting place. But for human beings the normal nature of a person is exhibited in his ability to know and pursue the supreme good. Hence it is the supreme good which is where a human person should rest. In this sense “zhiyu zhishan” means the supreme good for a human being to cultivate and pursue as a supreme end of life. Again, what is then the supreme good for man? The Daxue states that for attaining the supreme good one needs to illuminate one’s “bright virtue” (mingde) and to love and renovate people (qin/xin min),10 and in this sense we can say that the first two canons have partially defined the supreme good. The full content of the supreme good is laid out in the attainment of the pacification of the whole world (pingtianxia) in the full realization of the benevolence (reri) of the sage. It is, in other words, in the attainment of the “inner sageliness (neisheng) and outer kingliness (waiwang)” that we have the supreme goodness. Right after the “zai zhiyu zhishan” sentence the guben text states the well-known self-minding sequence “zhizhi-youding-nengjing-nengannenglU-nengde.” This is an important psychological statement about knowing a supreme end for one’s pursuit. Once a person knows his supreme end to pursue, his mind and action will then have a focus and his feelings will not dissipate and become restless. His heart and life will become settled so that he can think deep and high, wide and far. It is in this way he will come to have insight into his own nature as well as the natures of things. But in a wider sense the attainment (de) should include correct and successful practice of virtues. It is not simply a matter of a good idea or a good state of mind in oneself, but a matter of being able to relate one’s understanding and one’s practice to the su­ preme end as the supreme good. One may therefore conclude by say­ ing that to know the end is to know the good in the sense of knowing as defined by the chain of psychological states and activities entailed or given rise to by the “zhizhi.” In this sense we can see not only how knowledge is defined or conceived but that knowledge actually can be attained. Finally, there is the important knowledge of knowing the root-branch (benmo) of a thing, knowing the beginning-ending (zhongshi) of a matter

36

Classics and Interpretations

(affair), and knowing the before-after (xianhou) of doing things and matters. We may note here that a thing (wu) and a matter (shi) could be seen as two different notions, although they are related. The thing is more centered on the objective, the independent and the fixed or the still side of a matter, whereas the matter is more centered on the sub­ jective, the related, and the dynamical side of a thing. O f course many matters are by nature more matters than things and many things are by nature more things than matters. Hence there is no validity in reducing one to the other; the reduction would be a categorical mistake. In this sense we can see Zhu Xi as more focusing on things (wu), whereas Wang Yangming can be seen as more focusing on matters (shi). But when Wang attempts to explain (away) things as matters alone, he could be said to commit a categorical mistake which would be an injustice to things. I noted that both Zheng Xuan and Zhu Xi have explained “wu” as “shi.”u As a matter of fact, we do speak of shiwu as a whole com ­ plex which we deal with in life. This simply means that no wu is sepa­ rate from shi and no shi is separate from wu, although in strict analysis wu and shi still can be distinguished in terms of their special refer­ ences. Another point concerns the scopes of wu and shi. Is either wu or shi more comprehensive? Again, there cannot be a conclusive view on this by common sense, in light of the fact that we do speak of wanshi wanwu (ten thousand matters and ten thousand things). However, from a philosophical point of view, an ontology of wu should be different and distinct from an ontology of shi. Perhaps we can regard “wu” as a basis for the development of “shi” just as objects can be regarded as the basis for the development of states of affairs. That we can make distinctions between the root and branch of a thing, between beginning and ending of a matter, and knowing the be­ fore-step and after-step of doing a thing is again a matter of common sense, but it requires us to learn from experience, reflection and careful thinking so that we can sort out these distinctions in a specific situation or with regard to a specific object or objective. Hence, to know these and be able to know these is a requirement for zhizhi. In light of the above we can formally say that “ gewu” consists in “zhizhi” in reference to things and matters and doing things. Hence gewu cannot be separated from “zhizhi” (extension of knowledge). Zhizhi, on the other hand, is to reach for knowledge of roots and knowl­ edge of ends as well as knowledge of ordering among things and mat­ ters. As knowledge of these has been basically explained and presented in the guben XT first section of the Daxue, one may thus argue and 36

The Daxue at Issue

37

point out that there is no need for a special commentary on the gewu zhizhi paradigm. There is no internal reason or justification for Zhu Xi to compose a different and external commentary on gewu zhizhi. How­ ever, there is no internal reason or justification to reduce gewu zhizhi to chengyi zhengxin either, as the latter represents a full-scale subjective activity in the heart-mind of a person, whereas the former does repre­ sent reference to and knowledge of things external to mind. With this ending note, we shall be able to advance to the level of ontological truth with regard to both Zhu X i’s and Wang Yangming’s reinterpreta­ tions of the text beyond the levels of textual integrity and theoretical understanding.

On the Philosophical Level of Ontological Truth There can be no denying that Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming are philo­ sophical scholars of systematic thinking. In the case of Zhu Xi, we have seen that he has been compared to Plato, Aristotle, Aquinas, and Kant for his system-building effort and achievement. But the way Zhu Xi built his system is different from all Western philosophers. Although he reached almost all issues in philosophical thinking, he did not write large and abstractly organized treatises to articulate his ideas like Aristotle or Kant, yet his ideas qua ideas as developed in many essays and conversations m ust be considered to be architectonic and are founded on a core of primary insights into the realities of heaven, earth, and man. His theses on unity and duality of li and qi, liyifenshu, xing jili, xin tong xingqing, jiwu qiongli and cunyang jujing, and daotong and daxue zhijiao are all well-developed theories, and they also fall into one unity and one system. But as to whether his system is free from any contradiction or problem, he can be subjected to critique like any great philosopher.12 There is a second major difference between Western philosophers and Zhu Xi as a major Chinese thinker. The life experiences and histo­ ricity of the development of Zhu X i’s philosophy are very much two essential parts of and perhaps the major keys for understanding his philosophical system. This is because Zhu Xi, like other Chinese phi­ losophers, did not think in the abstract nor think in logic alone but had always engaged in seeking deep experience, reflection, and even con­ templation (called embodimental experience or tinian) in order to reach truth or truthful insight into reality and human nature. In general, Chi­ nese philosophers are much more practice- and cultivation-oriented in

38

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life: what they think and believe is what they act on. In a sense all Chinese philosophy is philosophy of life and nature, and not just ethics but metaphysics inclusive of ethics. In this regard we see that Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming had in fact a lot in common in life experiences. They all started with an early urge to seek the truth of the dao, they all had a process of deep reflection and transformation in the middle of their lives, and finally, later in life they settled on certain forms of philosophical convictions in regard to reality at large and to human mind or human nature in particular. Nevertheless, Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming came to have different systems of philosophy because they stressed different aspects of real­ ity and had different understandings of the structure and process of human existence. In this regard not only were their life experiences different but their challenges, concerns, and problems were also differ­ ent. In spite of this they are also related in an important way: they derived their inspiration and resources of thinking from the same clas­ sical Confucian tradition. W hile they were each concerned with estab­ lishing and practicing the Confucian teachings, there is one crucial difference: Zhu Xi was more concerned with overcoming the disparity among Northern Neo-Confucian masters, whereas Wang was almost exclusively concerned with overcoming what he perceived to be the basic problems in Zhu Xi. This then should explain how eventually Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming must part company as two different NeoConfucian systems of interpretation and understanding of reality, hu­ man nature, and the human heart-mind. It is in these different systems of interpretation of reality and understanding of human existence that we have different approaches to the interpretation of the meaning of the Daxue text. These different approaches even motivate their respec­ tive efforts to change or “unchange” (restore but still change) the Daxue text on the linguistic level. As we have seen, the m ajor difference between Zhu X i’s interpreta­ tion of the Daxue and Wang Yangming’s interpretation of the Daxue lies in the notion of gewu zhizhi. Whereas Zhu Xi interprets the notion of gewu zhizhi in his supplementary commentaries which present the doctrine of exhausting the principles right at things and fulfilling the great functions of the heart-mind,13Wang Yangming interprets the same notion in terms of his doctrine of heart-mind being the principle. For Zhu Xi gewu is “ qiongli” as originally suggested by Cheng Yi, whereas for Wang Yangming gewu is the functioning of making sincere one’s intentions at things, which in his later theory of “four-sentence teach­

The D axue at Issue

39

ing” (sijujiao) becomes doing the good and right and removing the bad and wrong. In this latter theory Wang Yangming has made amply clear that gewu is no more than the functioning of the liangzhi (innate ability of knowing goodness, which is also a good will because it is the ability to act toward good in light of the unity of knowledge and action.) Regarding the doctrine of “jiwu qiongli,” it is no doubt the most staunch doctrine in the whole project of Neo-Confucian philosophy. It begins with the idea of “//” which is pattern, order, and law/principle of things, but in a philosophical depth created by the Zhouyi, Daoism, and Buddhism, li actually comes to mean the ultimate reality o f things. Hence to “ qiongli” (seek principles of things to the utmost) is in fact a process and activity involved and directed in disclosing the ultimate reality of things. But each thing has its individual li or reality and the li of all things is the whole reality to which individual /is belongs. The sense of belonging of individual /is to the whole li m ust be understood in the spirit of the doctrine of “one principle and many m anifestations” ( liyifenshu ), which is derived from the philosophy o f the Zhouyi ontocosmology. In this sense to seek and realize the li o f a thing to the utmost is to realize the order of the whole reality and to realize the place a thing occupies in this order. But how can one do this? To an­ swer this question we should come to the Cheng-Zhu doctrine of “jcing jili,” according to which our nature is rooted in the ultimate reality and hence is identical with the principle of reality. This should account for how we can have knowledge of things, for to know is simply to make our mind aware of the principles of things, and this is precisely the function of our nature (jcing): it is the nature of the mind as the know­ ing agent. But it is also recognized that to know in this sense requires the effort of the individual person to be directed to the natures of things, and hence the relevance of confronting things.14 The desirable result of a strenuous effort of mind is described as “all-at-sudden thorough penetration” (huoran guantong) which is the meeting point where the mind becomes fully realized and the prin­ ciples of things as manifested in things are totally illuminated. This is the state of full understanding and hence full knowledge of things and their principles.15 One can see the subtle difference between the “huoran guantong” with the “dunwu” (sudden enlightenment) of the Southern Chan School: whereas the latter stresses seeing one’s nature and illu­ minating one’s mind, a totally subjective-ontological act, the former stresses both illuminating the mind and illuminating the principles of

40

Classics and Interpretations

things, and hence realizing a description of both the subjective and the objective sides of a comprehensive ontology. From this brief discussion of the difference between the onto­ logical approaches of Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming, we can see how their ontological interpretations of the Daxue texts on both the textual and theoretical levels must be different and what their individual rea­ sons for this difference could be. Their difference in explaining gewu zhizhi is rooted in their basic views on reality: one holds true “xing jili” and the other “xin jili.” From this deeply embedded philosophical or ontological background one may finally raise the hermeneutical ques­ tion: given their deep philosophical insights and convictions, could they see the meanings of the terms in the Daxue other than what they actu­ ally came to see? The answer is clearly no. And this is the point made by Gadamer when he says that one’s understanding of history cannot be free from the bias or prejudice one has inherited from history. Simi­ larly, one’s understanding of philosophy cannot be easily freed from the bias one has developed from a given philosophical tradition or ex­ perience. We cannot blame Zhu Xi or Wang Yangming for their ulti­ mate interpretation of the Daxue on this ontological level. Instead we should see their efforts as enriching the tradition of understanding the Daxue, which at the same time is a disclosure of their individual achieve­ ments in terms of ontological insights and reflections. However, there is indeed the question whether Zhu Xi should have created a supplementary commentary on the notion of gewu zhizhi. The answer to this is that insofar Zhu Xi believed that a commentary was historically missing, his effort to insert this buzhuan is understandable, and this can be regarded as a heroic effort to transmit the dao. Now even if we see fro m the tex t th at n o such co m m en tary is called for, this does not forfeit the genuineness of Zhu X i’s belief nor invalidate his insights into the meaning of gewu zhizhi. Nor would this give Wang Yangming a more worthy status in his effort to restore and reinterpret the guben text of the Daxue. This is because Wang Yangming has injected his doctrine of “xin jili” into the interpretation of the Daxue just as Zhu Xi did, even if he does not institute a special supplementary commentary for the gewu zhizhi section. Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming both have the equal right to reinterpret the gewu notion in the Daxue. Since the idea of gewu zhizhi is fluid, indeterminate, and figurative on the philosophical level, it invites such interpretations and other interpretations, if well-grounded, and if responsible efforts can be made to confront or compensate for whatever issues or problems or difficulties they may raise or introduce.

The D axue at Issue

41

The difficulties Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming create in their respec­ tive interpretations of the Daxue are also respectively different. I shall be very brief on these difficulties. For Zhu Xi, the principle-directed or centered interpretation would require an explanation o f how gewu zhizhi gives rise to chengyi zhengxin in the Daxue sequence of works of practice (shijian gongfu). Perhaps Zhu Xi has to answer this with his two-m ind or two-attitudes approach: daoxuewen on one hand and cundexing on the other. Gewu is a m atter of intellectual understand­ ing, whereas chengyi is a m atter of m oral or axiological orientation of the will. The relation between the two is that the moral will re­ quires gewu zhizhi as a basis for making correct judgm ents and deci­ sions relating to the world, whereas the attitude of concern called “reside in reverence” (jujing) is necessary for the full exercise of the rational faculty of the mind in reaching to the principles of things. Hence both “m ind of knowing” and “mind of valuing” are interde­ pendent, and in fact they can be regarded as the two sides of the same heart-m ind, whose unity is warranted and grounded in the nature of a human person and hence in the ontological reality itself. Such a scheme of understanding is needed for redressing the problem of knowledge and value and the problem of knowledge and action as conceived in the contexts of Daxue canons and steps of self-cultivation. However, Wang Yangming’s heart-m ind-directed or centered in­ terpretation of the Daxue’’s gewu zhizhi would reduce knowledge of the world to the function of a moral mind, which may lose its ground­ ing in and justification for the need for genuine knowledge of things. As explained earlier, Wang Yangming has reduced things to matters and m atters to affairs of the mind and actions of the “innate ability to know good ’’(liangzhi). If this is intuitive knowledge included in a moral decision, the knowledge could be short-sighted, transitional, partial, and even misleading. With this intuitive knowledge thus un­ derstood, how could a moral judgm ent or m oral decision of good bring good? It is well-known that good intentions never guarantee good consequences. Hence knowledge m ust be independently intro­ duced as a condition or a mediation for the realization of good. If knowledge has to be independently reached, one has to grant an inde­ pendent function of correct and objective knowledge of things and m atters in order to know preconditions for the attainm ent of good­ ness. This would lead to a separation of the epistem ic function from an axiological function of the liangzhi, which would then cause the loss of the apparent unity of the heart-mind and would consequently

42

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lead to the thesis of xing jili of the Cheng-Zhu school, comprom ising the Lu-W ang doctrine of xin jili. Given the above, on this philosophical level of ontological consider­ ations, can we claim w hich in te rp re ta tio n , Z hu X i’s or W ang Yangming’s, is true or more true than the other? The question cannot be answered without assuming that the truth of one position is exclu­ sive of the truth of the other position or that one position must be more true than the other position. In fact, it is possible that both positions are partially true within a larger system of integrative understanding, in which each system is true or more true than the other only with regard to a different level and/or to a dimension of consideration in a larger or whole system of ontological reality. Hence, instead of judging which interpretation is true or truer, we leave open the possibility of integration in which both interpretations can be said to be true. I have m yself m ade efforts to reconcile and integrate the doctrine of xing jili and the doctrine o f xin jili.16 My basic point is that xin is no substitute for xing on the one hand and xing has to realize itself in xin in m oral and epistem ological matters, and hence there should be a unity between xin and xing in the unity of li. W ith this basic point made, one can then see that Zhu X i’s qiongli interpretation o f gewu and Wang Yangming’s zhengxin interpretation of gewu need not be unrelated or incom patible. On a limited scope and level, Wang Yangming’s zhi liangzhi presupposes a realization of gewu zhizhi, but beyond a certain lim it, gewu zhizhi has to function independently of liangzhi so that it may better serve the purpose of zhi liangzhi. Hence a comprehensive ontology o f li/xing/xin in the direction of integrating Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming (but with correc­ tions and revisions in overcoming their dualistic language and ten­ dencies) m ust be developed.

Concluding Observations To complete our understanding of the onto-hermeneutical critique of the Daxue interpretation issue, we may also suggest that, whereas Zhu Xi represents a synthetic, meta-objective, and meta-subjective po­ sition of the li/xing/xin unity in understanding the gewu zhizhi, and Wang Yangming represents a subjective or transcendental subjective position of moral mind (as explained by the contemporary Neo-Confucianist Mou Zongsan), the scientific understanding of seeking knowl­ edge on the basis of scientific methodology which is subject-free and

The D axue at Issue

43

value-free but object-focused and law-focused could be logically a genu­ ine alternative interpretation of the gewu zhizhi. This line of interpreta­ tion actually was pursued, by Fang Yizhi (1611-1671) in the late M ing period, and has been amplified by many others. It is important to see that there is nothing which would prevent such an interpretation and that there is also no reason to see that there could not be a comprehensive theory for integrating all the three interpreta­ tions into an organic unity for a genuine enrichment of the understand­ ing of the virtual Daxue text and the Daxue-learning tradition. My onto-hermeneutical scheme of analysis hopefully will shed light on this possible creative fusion and integration of many levels of mean­ ings and many horizons of purposes in a text, as advanced by authentic ontological interpretations.

Notes 1.

2. 3.

4. 5.

6. 7. 8.

9.

Sima Guang wrote the Daxue guangyi based on using Daxue as a compendium of major teachings of classical Confucianism. The Cheng brothers and then Zhu Xi came to read and comment on the Daxue and Zhongyong almost on a par with the Analects and the Mencius. In 1190 Zhu Xi published the four books together and called it Sizi, the Four Masters. See Wang Yangming’s “Daxue guben yuanxu” (Original foreword to the ancient text of the Great Learning), in Wang Yangming quanji (The Complete Works of Wang Yangming), vol. 2 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1992), 1197. Daniel K. Gardner’s Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon, published in 1986 as a monograph of the Council on East Asian Studies of Harvard University, is a historical study of the evolution of the Daxue text and its received interpretation by Zhu Xi. It is not a critical study of the issues of validity involved in the formation and interpretation of the text by Zhu Xi. Cf. Jiang Fan, Hanxue shichengji (Taipei: Chung-hua shu-chu, 1962) and Liang Qichao, Qingdai xueshu kailun (Hong Kong: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1963). See Dai Zhen, “Writing on the Drawing on Hui Dingyu (Hui Dong)’s Teaching of Classics,” in Dai Zhen ji (Shanghai: Guji chuban she, 1980). The methodol­ ogy of Dai’s scholarship hence is to first read the words correctly, then read the classics correctly, and finally clarify the principles on these bases. Taipei: Pamier Publishing, 1984. Ibid., 32-36. We may indeed construct the following sequence of the development of the mean­ ing of ge between the period of the early Zhou and the period Warring States: (1) “ge” as “come/arrive” (intransitive verb: pre-Confucian use), (2) “ge” as “frame/ norm/ quality” (noun: Confucius’ use), and (3) “ge” as activity of “rectify/correct/remove wrongs” (transitive verb: post-Confucian use). See Chuanxi lu, shang (Instructions for Practical Learning, part 1), in the newly edited Wang Yangming quanji, shang (The complete works of Wang Yangming, vol. 1, Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1992), 6,25,34. Wang Yangming also wrote some notes commenting on the Daxue guben (old text) in which his position was

44

10.

11. 12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

Classics and Interpretations also clearly explained. These notes together with his original foreword to the guben Daxue are included in vol. 2,1193-1197, in Wang Yangming quanji mentioned above. Note that Zhu Xi changed the guben phrase “qinmin” to “ jcinmin” in light of Tang Panming and Kanghao’s emendations. Wang Yangming criticized the change and defended the guben wording in light of the doctrine of ren in Confucianism. But philosophically there is no incompatibility between the notion of loving the people and the notion of renewing people. One might even say in light of the Confucian philosophy that to love the people is to nenew the people, which is namely to give them education and edification so that they can realize their own bright virtues. In their respective commentaries on the Daxue. See my article “Lun Zhuzhi zhexuede lixue dingwei yu qi neihande yuanrong he tiaoguan wenti” (On problems of orientation, consistency, and unity in Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian system), in Proceedings o f International Conference on Study o f Chu Hsi, Academia Sinica, Taipei, 1993, 293-340. Zhu Xi’s buzhuan in Daxue zhangju says the following: “To say that zhizhi re­ sides in gewu is to say if one wishes to reach for one’s knowledge of things, one must exhaust the principles of things right at things. This is because the perspi­ cuity of the human mind is such that it always has the ability to know, whereas all things under heaven all have principles. It is because the principles have not been exhausted that a mind thus may not have all the knowledge. Thus the Great Learning first teaches people to seek knowledge to the utmost based on prin­ ciples already known to the mind with regard to things in the world. As soon as one is able to exercise his knowing power for a long time, whenever he may fully penetrate understanding at all once, then the outside and the inside, the fine and the crude of many things will be reached (presented) in the knowledge (under­ standing), and the great functions of my mind in its totality will remain not unclarified. This is where things are reached (ge); this is called the coming of knowledge.” The translation is my own, in view of issues of the ambiguity and indeterminacy of the meaning of the notion of gewu and zhizhi. Although this activity of confronting things is not made precise and remains a factor to be defined or delineated, this makes it possible to open itself to a scien­ tific interpretation, as we shall see later. Understanding is a state of mind wherein knowledge of things is integrated with a given or emergent scheme of framework of the mind, whereas knowledge of things and their principles is presumably a reflection of the natures of things independently of any framework of mind. See my article “On Two Points of View in Neo-Confucian Philosophy: chih-chih and chih-liang-chihf in National Taiwan University Bulletin of Literature, His­ tory, and Philosophy (June 1991), 46-110.

3 Between Sanctioned Change and Fabrication: Confucian Canon (Ta-hsiieh) and Hermeneu­ tical Systems Since the Sung Times Kai-wing Chow E v ery cultural tradition has its own canon, its list of authoritative texts. They may be sacred scriptures or secular classics. The question of what constitutes a canon involves primarily the theoretical question of how a text is endowed with canonicity; how a text becomes a work with an author, or an editor, and with an ideological affliation.1 For our pur­ pose in this essay, we distinguish a text from a work. Unlike Roland Barthes who argues that “[wjhile the work is held in the hand, the text is held in language: it exists only as discourse,” I argue for a different distinction between the two.2 Both text and work are held in language; but a work is held in discourse whereas a text is not. A text—literal or symbolic— is simply a body of signs, a string of words arranged in blocks—paragraphs and chapters. It has no author. It does not have a filiation or general significance. But in practice texts are produced and endowed with significance in discourse. They are recognized as works in terms of genres and bibliographical classification provided by the literary community. A text is a concept for a body of signs either with­ out significance endowed by the literary community or its authenticity, authorship, and filiation is being challenged and suspended. A text is a non-work, a text without significance, occupying no space in the charted terrain of discourse. In contrast, a work is a significant text, a text that 45

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has become a work when it is attached to an author or authors (proven or attributed) and is recognized as an example of a literary genre and/ or an articulation of an intellectual tradition. The conference of authority or canonicity on a text is made possible by a wide range of signifying strategies. The discursive status of a text as a canon therefore can be changed by different signifying strategies. A text may acquire or lose its canonical status as a work in discourse as authorship and ideological affiliation. The source of authority and the process whereby a text is canonized varies with tim e within a culture and cross cultures. To understand the process of canonization, we need to examine how a hermeneutical system provides principles and strat­ egies to differentiate its own works from other works and texts. Hermeneutics is concerned with the study of the principles and pro­ cess of interpreting a work. Interpretation in its broadest sense is the rendering intelligible of the significance of a text to a community of readers. Interpretation itself is an activity of producing meaning within a literary community. The meaning of a text is produced at four levels: linguistic/lexical reference, material/textual form, literary, and the ideo­ logical rationale.3The question of how meaning is produced at each level corresponds to the object of study of four clusters of disciplines and fields: (1) philology— etymology, phonetics, and semantics; (2) textual criticism—bibliography and textual studies; (3) literary criticism, litera­ ture; and (4) intellectual history, philosophy, and culture theories. The signifying structure, i.e., the protocol for making sense of the text at the linguistic-literal and material-textual form is determined by the ideol­ ogy that provides justification in ultimate terms.4 Based on some spe­ cific set of values and truth-claims, the ideology determines the relative authority and value of the signification at the three levels. The various disciplines by virtue of the institutional need to distinguish themselves from one another without exception privileged a specific set of objects and issues as their exclusive domain of investigation. The structure of signifying authority formulates criteria for resolv­ ing conflicts and ambiguities arising at the two levels. M ore important, they authorize change in textual configuration through addition, exci­ sion, and reorganization of the textual structure. These principles and a set of supporting discursive strategies, and linguistic and textual de­ vices constitute a hermeneutical system. It privileges a set o f texts and doctrines as the source of its criteria. But by the same token conflicts and ambiguities can be created and recognized at both the linguistic and textual levels resulting in the challenging and subversion of the

Between Change and Fabrication

47

ideology that imposes a structure of hermeneutical principles on the first two levels. Hermeneutics is a study of the process of interpreta­ tion or making sense of a text. An important function of a hermeneutic system is to provide criteria for differentiating sanctioned change and unsanctioned change in the work. This paper is concerned with three sets of questions: first, the ques­ tion of how change— addition, fragmentation, reconfiguration of a text— was justified in terms of a hermeneutical system; second, what strategies were used to accomplish these sanctioned changes; and fi­ nally, how these strategies and the hermeneutical system functioned to define the Confucian canon. This last question concerns how scholars in the late Ming and early C h’ing identified a text as Confucian. W hat were the assumptions and strategies employed in such efforts? We will address the specific question of how texts attained canonicity and what linguistic and textual strategies were employed. I will argue that the recognization of a work as a forgery or as heterodox were two textual strategies commonly employed by scholars to exclude texts containing ideas with which they strongly disagreed. The path of the hermeneuti­ cal moments of the text Ta-hsiieh shows how various discursive strate­ gies were used to deploy a text inside and outside the intellectual tradition of Confucianism. These issues may be explored by examining how different strate­ gies— linguistic-literal and textual— were used to signify the Ta-hsiieh, the Great Learning, as an independent treatise and a cardinal text of the Confucian canon in the Sung, how its centrality was undermined in the Ming, how its discursive status was further reduced to no more than a chapter in one of the Five Classics, and finally how it was jetti­ soned out of the Confucian canon. W riting commentaries on a canon was the most common and an­ cient textual device to impose constraints on how a canon should be and could be read. The crucial role of the commentary was clearly evident in the initial phase in the formation of the Confucian canon in the Han dynasty (206 b .c .e .- 220 c.E.). The Confucian canon from the very beginning had a porous boundary, as any text can be endowed canonicity through various linguistic and textual strategies. During the initial phase of canon formation in the second century, commentaries were integral to the exposition of the Confucian Classics (ching), so much so that the erudites of Classics, pedagogical positions first institutional­ ized in the Western Han, were distinguished by their commentarial tradi­ tions rather than the Classics themselves. The positions of erudites were

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crucial to the maintenance of its canonicity through the T ’ang dynasty. With the beginning of the Sung dynasty and the gradual rise of the Taohsiieh movement in the Southern Sung, a new set of texts— the Four Books—came to replace the Five Classics as the core of the Confucian canon. While the Five Classics remained important to the Confucian canon, their significance was dependent upon a new ideology that dis­ placed the Five Classics from the center of the Confucian canon. They lost primacy to the Four Books. Conflicts and ambiguities arising at the linguistic-literal and textual levels in the Confucian canon were resolved in accordance with the criteria formulated by the Tao-hstieh Confucians such as Ch’eng I and Chu Hsi.

Genealogy of the Four Books as the Confucian Canon Compared to most canonical traditions, the Confucian canon was notable “in the extent to which it remained open, resisting final fixa­ tion or complete closure.”5 That Confucianism did not assume institu­ tional form as a church was a major factor. The political idioms it provided for legitimating dynastic regimes constituted only part of its vast range of teachings. Insofar as the legitimacy of the regime was not questioned, there was no need to impose a rigid system of exposition on the Confucian classics. The absence of institutional control over doctrines contributed to the fluidity of Confucian canon. Only when the central meanings were fixed by reading-control devices such as commentaries or annotations, and when the hermeneutical principles were enforced by institutional sanctions such as the civil service ex­ amination did the significance of a text become “frozen” in its status as a Confucian canon. But it became fluid or lost its canonicity again when the reading or institutional controls were removed or weakened. W hat constitutes a text as distinct from a work is itself a subject of great debate. One salient characteristic of a text is its textual instabil­ ity. It multiplies through copying and printing. The multiple existence of a text passing through the hands of countless copyists, editors, and printers creates numerous problems for scholars and editors aiming at identifying and restoring the “original” text. In its many reincarnations, a text may undergo expansion, fragmentation, and merging with other texts. It is precisely the instability of the text that provides fertile ground for human imagination to play out its creativity. The history of the chang­ ing status of the Great Learning, one of the most important texts of the Four Books provides an excellent case for examining the question of the

Between Change and Fabrication

49

instability of a text and the question of how a text can traverse the terrain between discursive boundaries of intellectual traditions— in this case, Classical Confucianism, Tao-hstieh Confucianism, and Buddhism. The change in the status of a text in discourse may be referred to as the “hermeneutical moment” of the text, signifying its volatile status in discourse. To use the term “moment” is to avoid organizing the different material forms of a text into a rigid schema of development. In textual studies there are two commonly held views: first, a text once created will degenerate through various kinds of corruption; second, a text can be eventually restored to its original version by editing out mistakes and making corrections or additions.6 These two processes, it is often be­ lieved by scholars of textual criticism, operate at the textual level. But the techniques and methods of textual criticism are validated by a set of hermeneutical principles, which are the rules that define the validity of evidence, the proper procedures for editing and the appropriate methods of proof. More importantly, hermeneutical principles determine the rela­ tive authority of the linguistic, literal, and textual levels. It is in fact im­ possible to speak of an independent system of textual criticism devoid of any hermeneutical principles. The hermeneutical level is intimately linked to the linguistic and textual levels. As will be shown below, the methods of textual criticism often operate within the parameters set by some herme­ neutical principles. When hermeneutical principles change, the findings of textual criticism will change. The discursive status of a text will change in accordance with the changing criteria of validity sanctioned by new hermeneutical principles.

Fragmentation of the Book o f Rites and the Canonization of the Great Learning The emergence of a new set of works in an intellectual tradition is an integral part of the developm ent of a new herm eneutical system. The Tao-hstieh movement reconfigured the Confucian works, endow­ ing canonicity to the Four Books. The Great Learning had been one of the Four Books that formed the core texts of the Tao-hstieh school.7 The Great Learning was originally the forty-second chapter in the Book o f Rites when the Confucian Classics first assumed the discursive sta­ tus of canon in the Han period.8 Its emergence as a major canon in the Tao-hstieh circle began when it figured prominently in the criticism of Buddhism in Han Yu’s writings.9 However, its hermeneutical moment as a chapter of a Confucian work continued well into the Sung dynasty.

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The text as a separate treatise began to rise in importance in the North­ ern Sung. As early as 1030 it was given as a gift from the emperor to successful examinees in the highest level examinations.10Ssu-ma Kuang wrote commentaries on both the Great Learning and the Doctrine o f the Mean. His commentary was perhaps the first ever written on the Great Learning as an independent treatise.11 From Northern Sung on until the early C h’ing, it enjoyed the status of a unified treatise inde­ pendent of the Book of Rites. The prom otion of the Great Learning from a chapter to an inde­ pendent treatise was made possible by fragm enting the Book o f Rites by Senior Tai (7a Tai Li chi). The extracting of the Great Learning chapter was justified in term s of the “inferior status” o f the Han C onfucians. For the C h ’eng B rothers— C h ’eng Hao and C h ’eng I— and later Chu Hsi, the Han C onfucians were not reliable scholars. The elevation of the Great Learning to a Confucian canonical work in the Sung period went through three steps. First, a dubious link betw een the text and C onfucius him self was initially suggested by C h ’eng I and C h’eng Hao; then, later in the Southern Sung, based on C h ’eng I ’s view, Chu Hsi divided the text into the C lassic proper and the com m entary section; finally, passages in the C lassic proper were attributed to C onfucius and the com m entary to his disciple Tseng Tzu. The three procedures in turn were justified in term s of two discursive strategies: “intellectual affinity” and “intellectual lineage.” To redeploy the Great Learning from the periphery of the Confucian works to the core of the Tao-hsueh Confucians’ canon, the C h’eng Broth­ ers used a conventional strategy of imputing a desirable author to the work. Both Ch’eng I and C h’eng Hao regarded the text as the “be­ queathed teachings” (i-shu) of Confucius. To claim that the Great Learn­ ing embodied the personal teachings of Confucius was to imagine an “intellectual affinity” betw een the ideas in the text and those of Confucius. By identifying some ideas in the Analects, the C h’eng Broth­ ers constructed an intellectual affinity between the Great Learning and the Analects. Even though most of the basic ideas concerning the Great Learning had been suggested by the C h’eng Brothers, they did not ex­ plicitly attribute them to Confucius and his disciple. It was Chu Hsi who explicitly stated that Confucius wrote the text, and that his dis­ ciples transmitted it and further elaborated on the idea of the “great learning.”12

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Chu Hsi’s Re-Configuration of Ta-hsiieh It is well known that Chu Hsi created two reading paradigms for sub­ sequent interpretations of the work. The first was a paradigm about the structure of the work. Following the C h’eng Brothers, Chu Hsi treated the chapter as the writing of Confucius. But unlike them, Chu divided the chapter into two parts: the Classical text proper (ching) and the com­ mentary (chuan). By identifying portions of the text as the personal writ­ ings of Confucius, Chu Hsi both elevated the text and left open the question of the “authenticity” of the text. Part of the Great Learning text was now accorded a higher status than its moment as a chapter in the Book o f Rites. By encircling a part as the commentary and attributing it to Confucius’ disciple, TsengTzu, Chu Hsi explained and justified the pres­ ence of a commentary as an integral part of the Classic. To attribute the commentary to Confucius’ disciple Tseng Tzu was an attempt to prevent its rejection as an erroneous addition by an author whose Confiician iden­ tity was open to question. The master-disciple relationship played a cru­ cial role in keeping the Great Learning intact while providing the necessary space for the textual re-configuration that Chu Hsi felt com ­ pelled to make. Asserting a master-disciple relationship was an easy way to establish intellectual affinity without arousing suspicion. Creating intellectual lineages had been a common strategy for claim­ ing ideological affiliation. Chu Hsi attributed the commentary part to Confucius’ disciple Tseng Tzu, making an implicit argument for the reliability of the commentary in terms of intellectual lineage. By clearly identifying a part of the work as the actual remarks of Confucius and the rest commentary by his disciple, Chu created a new “textual para­ digm” for reading the work that was to dominate Neo-Confucian schol­ arship until the late Ming. The status of the Great Learning as an authentic Confucian work hinged upon C hu’s “Classic-com mentary” scheme, which became the hermeneutical principle of the Tao-hsiieh tradition. The creation of this paradigm was important as the canonical status of the Book o f Rites was called into question by the Tao-hsiieh scholars in the Sung. M ost of the chapters in the Book o f Rites were dismissed as writings of Han scholars who were criticized for making serious mistakes in their transmission and exegetical endeavor.13As we will see, later efforts aiming at undermining the status of the Great Learning focused on rejecting such an internal distinction based on Chu H si’s paradigms.

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This textual paradigm is crucial to Chu Hsi’s reconfiguration of the work and to his supplementary section in the commentary (pu-chuan) that he argued was lost amid transmission. The second paradigm that Chu Hsi created is doctrinal. For him, the Great Learning clearly de­ fined the goals, principles, and procedures for moral cultivation and the fulfillment of social and political obligations of a Confucian. He stipulated “Three Cardinal Principles” (san kang-ling) and “Eight Head­ ings” (pa t ’iao mu) as the central teachings of the “Great Learning.” 14 The Three Cardinal Principles were: “manifest one’s illustrous virtues” (ming ming te), “renew the subject” (hsin min), and “stop where su­ preme goodness is attained” (chih yu chih-shan). The Eight Headings were: “cheng-hsin, ch’eng-i, ko-wu, chih-chih, hsiu-shen, ch’i-chia, chih-kuo, p ’ing t ’ien-hsia.” According to him, all the “Three Cardinal Principles” and “Eight Headings” were clearly explained except the sections on ko-wu and chih-chih. He thought that each of the “Three Cardinal Principles” and “Eight Headings” had explanatory comments, with the exception of the ko-wu. The commentarial part of the ko-wu must have been lost amid transmission. The textual device of dividing the Ta-hsiieh into the Classic proper and the commentary allowed Chu Hsi to justify adding a section on the ko-wu, that completed the textual configuration of “Three Cardinal Principles” and “Eight Headings.” This was a change made in the work sanctioned in terms of textual criticism. But the substantive change, i.e., the “Supplementary Com­ mentary” was grounded in doctrinal paradigm Chu Hsi imposed on the work by means of his own commentary. Therefore, based on his per­ ception of the “perfect” edition of the text, he offered to fill the gap with his own commentary. This was the famous “Supplementary Com­ mentary” on the ko-wu chih-chih passage (investigation of things and the extension of knowledge). Chu H si’s “Supplementary Commentary” and his paradigms were fully articulated in the commentary he wrote for the Great Learning. By rendering wu in ko-wu as the principles of myriad things, the polysemy of the phrase ko-wu chih-chih was suspended by an intratextual semantic relation created through rendering all words chih in terms of knowing the principles of things. By systematically providing the word wu with an object— li, principles of things— Chu Hsi created a semantic relationship among the four words ko-wu chih-chih at the lin­ guistic level, which was used to justify, with the doctrinal paradigm, the addition of a “Supplementary Commentary”— an expansion of the text. It is worthy of note that the justification for the creation of the

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53

“Supplementary Commentary” presupposed a belief in the sage as a perfect writer, who could not have left a crucial point like ko-wu unex­ plained. Clearly, Chu H si’s explanation was shaped by his own experi­ ence as a practitioner of writing examination essays. The civil service examination by the Southern Sung had trained the literati to write in a methodical way. Small wonder they as experienced readers expected to find the writings of the sages perfectly organized. But the canonization of the Great Learning did not go unchallenged. Chu H si’s critic Lu Hsiang-shan had a different reading of the work. The philosophical battle between Chu and Lu was fought on many fronts. But their contending interpretations of the Great Learning was a major battlefield because their differences could be best articulated through the debate over the term ko-wu. Chu Hsi favored an intellectualist approach to the term ko-wu whereas Lu championed an intuitive approach. By stressing the need to examine knowledge as much as possible, both moral and non-moral, Chu Hsi imposed a great demand for scholarly study on his disciples and followers. Lu’s intuitive approach en­ couraged moral effort and introspection, relegating the pursuit of knowl­ edge to secondary importance. The disagreement between Chu Hsi and Lu Hsiang-shan was reduced to insignificant bickering by Lu’s disciple Yang Chien, who simply rejected the claim that the Great Learning was a Confucian text. His opposition to the text was based on his reading that the text contained ideas incompatible with those of Confucius himself.15This strat­ egy of denial was one of the most frequently used weapons in intellec­ tual debates over exposition of texts. Yang’s strategy involved three parts: first, a reductionist approach to the text and Confucius’ ideas; second, a contrast of the selected ideas; and finally, dismissing the text’s ideas as incompatible with that of Confucius.

Wang Yang-ming and the Old Edition of the Great Learning With the founding of the M ing dynasty, the Tao-hsiieh exponents were able to find imperial endorsement of their hermeneutical system anchored in the Four Books. Chu H si’s commentaries had been the official texts in the civil service examinations since 1313. With the blessing of the imperial state the discursive status of the Four Books as the cardinal Confucian texts became frozen with Chu H si’s hermeneu­ tical system. The M ing dynasty inherited the examination system of the Yuan and continued to use Chu’s commentaries in the examina­ tions. Through his commentary, Chu H si’s exposition of the Great

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Learning became the dominant view in the M ing, providing the only protocol for reading the Great Learning. A few dissenting voices did little to undermine C hu’s paradigms. The debate between Chu Hsi and Lu Hsiang-shan remained a scholarly issue in private circles. The great­ est challenge to Chu Hsi did not come until the sixteenth century when a new hermeneutical system formulated by Wang Yang-ming began to gain popularity. Wang criticized Chu Hsi for misunderstanding the meaning of the idea of ko-wu chih-chih. The explanation Chu Hsi ad­ vanced in his commentary called for a rigorous investigation of things, which was essential to moral cultivation. In W ang’s view, the lack of focus in C hu’s intellectualist program of moral cultivation would only lead the literati astray. Dissatisfied with C hu’s intellectualist approach to moral cultivation, Wang set out to challenge C hu’s Classic-com­ mentary paradigm, in whose terms C hu’s interpretation and his addi­ tion of the “Supplementary Commentary” on ko-wu chih-chih were justified. In 1518 Wang published the Old Edition o f the Great Learning ( Kupen Ta-hsiieh) and a collection of Chu H si’s letters to his disciples, which Wang gave the title Chu Tzu wan-nien ting-lun (Definitive ideas of Chu Hsi in his later life). The first work provided the textual founda­ tion for his own interpretation of the term ko-wu in the “Great Learn­ ing.” The second work was published to forestall any attack on his view as heterodoxy by showing how Chu Hsi in his later life had al­ ready come to the same understanding of the term ko-wu as he did.16 To challenge Chu H si’s interpretation, Wang Yang-ming had to dis­ credit C hu’s textual paradigm. He pointed out that the Great Learning as the forty-second chapter of the Book of Rites, the Old Edition of the text was not separated into the Classic proper and the commentary, nor was the text divided into chapters and verses (chang and chieh). He argued that Chu Hsi had taken liberty in rearranging and dividing the text into chapters and verses in accordance with his own emphasis on intellectual pursuit of knowledge. He lamented that the sage’s mean­ ing was lost as the text was divided into chapters and verses.17W hat he found in the Old Edition was a textual order that supported his reading that stressed “sincerity in one’s thought” and “investigation of things” in the m ind.18The “rediscovery” of the Old Edition o f the Great Learn­ ing was crucial to W ang’s attempt to discredit Chu H si’s exposition of the text. By denying the existence of a distinction between a Classic proper and a purported commentary in the text, Wang intended to criti­ cize Chu Hsi for tampering with the Classic. Chu Hsi would be pro­

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55

tected from accusation for meddling with the Classics, if indeed the part he changed was only a commentary as he asserted. But the strat­ egy Chu Hsi used to demote the status of part of the text of the Great Learning into commentary was employed by Wang Yang-ming to re­ store it back to the status of a canon. By showing that in the Old Edition the section on “ ko-wu chih-chih” written by Chu Hsi served no function because the section on ko-wu chih-chih was not lost, Wang Yang-ming could claim that his interpre­ tation of the meaning of ko-wu chih-chih was correct because it was based on the original, untampered text. It should be noted that of the two paradigms that Chu Hsi created, Wang had discredited only the “Classic-commentary” paradigm. He did not challenge the “doctrinal structure” paradigm. He continued to speak of the “Three Cardinal Prin­ ciples” and “Eight Headings” of the Great Learning. Despite his criticism of Chu Hsi for his erroneous interpretation, Wang insisted that “[if] words are examined in the mind and found to be wrong, although they have come from the mouth of Confucius, I dare not accept them as correct. How much less those from people inferior to Confucius!”19 Wang granted full autonomy to the mind in perceiving the “correct” edition of the work. The civil service examination had institutionalized Chu Hsi’s edi­ tion of the Great Learning. The textual and doctrinal paradigms com ­ bined to set up the perimeters for alternative readings of the work. The ordinary literati only studied Chu H si’s edition of the Great Learning and had no knowledge of its previous status as a chapter in the Book o f Rites.20 It was because since C hu’s commentary was printed with the text of the Great Learning, the Complete Compendium of the Four Books simply deleted the text from the Book o f Rites. When Wang Yang-ming printed the Old Edition, even officials renowned for their scholarship did not believe the existence of such a version with the Great Learning as one of the chapters. Wang Yang-ming’s appeal to the Old Edition o f the Great Learning had won many supporters for his interpretation of ko-wu chih-chih. But others were less impressed with the way he utilized a textual argu­ ment to promote his own philosophy. Lo C h’in-shun (1465-1547), a staunch exponent of Chu H si’s teachings, did not regard the Old Edi­ tion as adequate evidence for disputing C hu’s exposition of the term ko-wu and likewise the Class-commentary paradigm. After reading the Old Edition of Great Learning and Chu Tzu wan-nien ting-lun, Lo wrote a letter to Wang in 1520. He pointed out that the stress Chu Hsi put on

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“broad learning” (po-hsiieh) was in perfect accord with Confucius’ teaching in the Analects.21 The strategy Lo used was to appeal to the word of Confucius himself and to a specific teaching as the criterion for determining the correct interpretation of the text. But in response, Wang Yang-ming also appealed to the authority of Confucius. He said: “The Old Edition o f the Great Learning is the original version trans­ mitted from generation to generation in the Confucian school. M aster Chu, suspecting that errors and gaps have crept in, corrected and amended it. But I believe that there have not been any errors and gaps. That is why I followed the Old Edition completely.”22 He continued to criticize Chu Hsi for tampering with the classic with his editorial re­ configuration of the text. He said: By what authority did Chu Hsi decide that this paragraph should be here and that one should be there, that this part had been lost and should be provided for...? Are you taking too seriously my divergences from Chu Hsi and not seriously enough Chu’s rebellion against Confucius?23

On the surface, Wang appealed to the authority of Confucius. His argument was based on the very assertion that C h’eng I and Chu Hsi made about the authorship of the Great Learning. Wang did not chal­ lenge Chu H si’s attribution of the text to Confucius but his editorial divisions and interpolations. When Wang questioned Chu Hsi’s authority in separating the Great Learning into chapters and verses and his in­ clusion of his “Supplementary Commentary,” he was not making a plea for adhering to tradition. It was Wang who said: If [words] are examined in the mind and found to be wrong, then even if they have come from [the mouth] Confucius, I dare not accept them as correct. How much more so for what has come from people inferior to Confucius! If [words] are ex­ amined in the xin and found to be right, then even if they have come from [the mouth] of mediocre people, I dare not regard them as incorrect. How much more so for what has come from Confucius?24

In defense of his new interpretation of the ko-wu passage, however, Wang Yang-ming did not simply appeal to his intellectual autonomy. He also evoked the conventional belief in the original text, a criterion his critic would not question. But for his own divergence from Chu Hsi, or even Confucius, his own mind would be sufficient in justifying any change to the text. In this case, his position was not very different from C h’eng I and Chu Hsi who believed that with the understanding of the heavenly principles, they were qualified to make any change to correct or improve the texts through re-configuration, deletion, and addition.

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57

The philosophical argument for moral intuitionism that Wang Yangming formulated did gain popularity as a result of the publicity gener­ ated by the Old Edition o f the Great Learning. Ironically, the mounting pressure to accept W ang’s exposition based on the Old Edition o f the Great Learning was to facilitate the wider circulation of a new version of the Great Learning— the Shih-ching Ta-hstieh, the Great Learning inscribed on a stele.

Forgery and the Great Learning on the Stele A new configuration of the Great Learning took the form of an ap­ parently more reliable media— a version on stele. The common belief in the ease with which a text was corrupted as a result of copying m is­ takes not only enabled many people to justify changes in terms of cor­ recting transmittal mistakes, but also facilitated acceptance of changes sanctioned in terms of textual criticism as attempts to restore the “origi­ nal” and “untampered” text. As I will show, the line between forgery and sanctioned change is extremely fine. The question of what consti­ tutes a forgery in fact is similar to the question of what is sanctioned change made to a text. The last one hundred years of the M ing regime was a high tim e of forgery. Fake books, paintings, and silver and bronze vessels flooded the market of connoisseur goods.25 One of the falsified texts that added fuel to the fire of the debate over the editions of the Great Learning was the new modified version, the Great Learning on the stele that Feng Fang created. Feng was a versatile scholar famous for his ability to imitate different styles of calligraphy. He inherited from his father a rich library including many rare editions. Feng’ Stele Edition presented a strong challenge to Chu H si’s tex­ tual paradigm of separating the text into the Classic proper and the commentary. In the Stele Edition, there was no additional section to explain the headings of ko-wu chih-chih. There was much reshuffling of passages in the Stele Edition. This reconfiguration of the work was not entirely new for the Ch’eng Brothers and Chu Hsi had made their own reconfiguration. In a way resembling Chu Hsi’s creation of the supplementary section on ko-wu chih-chih, Feng had inserted a pas­ sage from the Analects.26 It was the famous question Yen Yuan asked Confucius about the meaning of “humaneness” (jen). The choice o f the passage suggests Feng’s own interpretation of the central teaching of Confucius. The strategy he used was again based on the belief in the

5$

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intellectual lineage between Confucius and his disciple. In the case of Chu Hsi, it was Tseng Tzu, and in Feng’s case, it was Yen Yuan. Nei­ ther claim, however, was based on external evidence. Unlike Chu Hsi, Feng undertook to manufacture some external textual evidence. When Feng began to reveal the possession of the Stele Edition of the Great Learning, he fabricated a few historical accounts in order to lend it credibility. He claimed to have discovered a copy of the Stele Edition of the Great Learning inscribed on stone tablets by imperial order during the Cheng-ho reign of the Wei dynasty. To augment the credibility of the text, he took pains to “identify” those scholars responsible for the in­ scriptions. As an expert in emulating calligraphic styles, Feng wrote the Stele Edition in chuan style calligraphy, endowing it with a veneer of historical authenticity.27 As early as 1562, the Stele Edition began to circulate in Feng Fang’s circle of friends, including the renowned scholar Cheng Hsiao. Two years later Wang Wen-lu, based on the edition he got from Feng Fang and on its reference in the writing of Cheng Hsiao, was convinced of its authenticity and published the text.28 Cheng Hsiao in fact learned about the Stele Edition from Feng Fang himself. With the enthusiastic promotion of Cheng Hsiao, the Stele Edition of the Great Learning began to appear in various printed works and rapidly attained popular­ ity.29 The Stele Edition drew support from both exponents of Chu Hsi and Wang Yang-ming. The success lay in part in the desire to settle once and for all the controversy over the “correct” interpretation of the phrase ko-wu chih-chih. The solution to this textual problem would, it was hoped, resolve the contest of interpretation about the approach to Confucian ethics. The second reason for its popularity perhaps had to do with the appeal to an unexamined belief in the reliability of text inscribed on stone. A belief rendered all the more desirable with the growing awareness of the various editorial and printing mistakes re­ sulted from the rapid expansion of commercial printing in the late Ming period. But how was the Stele Edition different from other modified edi­ tions? Were the changes Feng made to the textual structure less justifi­ able than those made by the C h’eng Brothers or Chu Hsi? Were they sanctioned in terms of the same hermeneutical system? Feng’s inser­ tion of this passage served to underscore “self cultivation” (hsiu-shen) as the central message of the text. Like Chu Hsi’s “Supplementary Commentary,” the insertion was a result of Feng’s own interpretation of the ethical message of the Great Learning. As pointed out above,

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scholars beginning with the C h’eng Brothers had made various changes to the textual order of the “Great Learning.” M ost changes involved re­ configuring the constituent parts of the text, i.e., moving words and phrases around and adding or cutting verses. But in m ost cases when the reasons for making the changes were clearly explained, the text would not be treated as forgery. Chu Hsi was criticized for filling the perceived gap with his own “Supplementary Commentary” (pu-chuan) on the “investigation of things,” but he was not accused of forging a text. In contrast, in the case of the Stele Edition of the Great Learning, changes made were not explained and were passed as the original. Unexplained changes upon discovery would have constituted an act of forgery. However, at the hermeneutical level, it was not different from the additional section Chu Hsi authored in order to articulate his em ­ phasis on the “investigation of things.” The difference between the in­ sertion of passage between Chu H si’ edition and Feng’s Stele Edition was presence or absence of explicit justifications for the modifications and additions. Furthermore, Chu Hsi did not fabricate historical ac­ counts as external evidence to support his claim. For some the appearance of the Stele Edition was a timely solution to the heated debate between supporters of Wang Yang-ming and de­ fenders of Chu H si’s interpretation. Wang Yang-ming’s argument for returning to the Old Edition of the Great Learning was further strength­ ened with the circulation of Feng’s Stele Edition. M any followers of Wang Yang-ming seized the opportunity to promote Wang’s ideas. Keng Ting-hsiang (1524-1596), Chao Ta-chou, and Kuan Chih-tao (15371608) enthusiastically promoted the Old Edition.30Some, however, saw the appearance of the Stele Edition a weapon for counterattack on Wang Yang-ming’s interpretation. In 1584 T ’ang Po-yiian (1540-1589) sub­ mitted a memorial to the emperor condemning the Old Edition. In­ stead, he recom mended the distribution of the Stele Edition to all government schools.31 Even learned scholars like Ku Hsien-ch’eng (1550-1612) and Liu Tsung-chou (1578-1645) were attracted to the Old Edition.32The Stele Edition of the Great Learning was extensively quoted and reproduced in many commentaries on the text. In Chang Tzu-lieh’s Ssu-shu ta-ch ’iian p ’ien (Disputations on the complete Four Books), several versions of the Great Learning were included for the readers to compare; the Stele Edition was one of them .33 The more dramatic consequence of the appeal of the Stele Edition and the stories invented by Feng Fang was the examination question written by Chiang Hsing-wei during the last years of the C h’ung-chen reign.34

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The sudden appearance of the Stele Edition of the Great Learning did not receive universal acceptance. A few incredulous scholars sus­ pected forgery by the discoverer Feng Fang. Ch’en Yao-wen, an expert in textual criticism, expressed doubt about the origin of the text.35 Hsu Fu-yuan and Wu Ying-pin were among others who were suspicious of the Stele Edition. But the circulation of the Stele Edition and the Old Edition in their printed forms had the accumulative effect of under­ mining the integrity of the official edition. They prompted even more modifications of the text by scholars based on different justifications. Liu Tsung-chou, a foremost exponent of Wang Yang-ming’s teachings, lamented that so much confusion had arisen as a result of the large number of modified editions based on different interpretations of the Great Learning. Kao P ’an-lung expressed his anger and frustration in his remark that in the present time every one created his own edition of the Great Learning.36 Kuo Tzu-chang said that the Great Learning was the forty-fifth chap­ ter of the Book o f Rites (actually it was the forty-second) and was not divided into sections and verses. According to him, there was a Stele Edition of the Great Learning that differed from both the Old Edition and the official edition based on Chu H si’s changes. Even though there were three versions, the central message of the text was ko-wu. Insofar as the meaning of ko-wu was understood, discrepancies in the three versions did not matter.37 This remark by Kuo touches upon an impor­ tant issue in textual studies, i.e., that not every word in the text counts. W hat mattered here for Kuo was the meaning of ko-wu. Differences in other parts of the Great Learning were insignificant. It is important to note that Kuo was not the only one that had reservations about the Stele Edition but nonetheless accepted it on ideological ground. The controversy over the authenticity of the Stele Edition was to be replaced in the early C h’ing by a heated debate regarding the intellec­ tual affiliation of the Great Learning. Some scholars condemned the Great Learning as outright heterodox work.

From Canon to Heterodox Work The Manchu conquest in 1644 contributed to the re-orientation of the gentry culture, especially the Confucian ideology, which was driven by anti-heterodox purism and conservative ritualism. The criticism of Wang Yang-ming and the syncretic movement (san-chiao ho-i) turned to a full-fledged condemnation of any teaching that smacked of het­

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erodoxy, notably Buddhism and Taoism. Several scholars— C h’en C h’tieh (1604-77), Yen Yuan (1635-1704), and Yao Chi-heng (16471715?)— condemned the Great Learning as an originally C h’an Bud­ dhist work disguised as a Confucian canon. As pointed out above, the challenge to the discursive status of the Great Learning as a Confucian work was not new. But beginning with the late Ming, as the reaction against the syncretic movement and Bud­ dhism increased in magnitude, Wang Yang-ming’s reading and render­ ing of the work was condemned as C h’an Buddhist teaching. C h’en Lung-cheng, for example, argued that Wang Yang-ming was wrong in changing hsin-min (renew the subject) to ch 'in-min (get close to the people). For Ch’en, ch 'in-min meant treating the subject like one’s kins, a violation of the Confucian teaching about kinship. Such a rendering was similar to the teaching of Mo Tzu and the Buddhists who advocated equal treatment of all regardless of kinship. The choice between ch ’inmin and hsin-min was the crucial criterion for distinguishing “our Truth from heterodoxy.”38 C h’en did not reject the Great Learning as a Bud­ dhist work. He only opposed to the new reading that resulted from the change of the phrase. The danger lay in Wang Yang-ming’s tampering with the work with a phrase with heterodox connotation. But this con­ cern turned into a totalistic rejection of the work in the early Ch’ing. The collapse of the M ing and the founding of the C h’ing dynasty did not put an end to the controversy and confusion over the various editions of the Great Learning. The debate, fueled by purism and ritu­ alist ethics, took a dramatic turn when C h’en C h’iieh, a student of Liu Tsung-chou, condemned the Great Learning as a work of outright het­ erodoxy. With the rise of Confucian purism, Ch’en was among a few who advocated a thorough cleansing of Confucian texts of heterodox ideas and terms.39 Though a student of Liu, C h’en was repelled by the syncretic trend characteristic of many of Wang Yang-ming’s followers in the late Ming. He was particularly critical of what he believed to be the central message of the work— the stress on knowledge to the ne­ glect of moral practice. For C h’en C h’iieh, this was clearly a teaching of C h’an Buddhism.40 For him, the teaching of chih-chih “extension of knowledge” resulted in two problems in ethics: the belief that once one knows the moral principles, there is no more to know; and knowing is sufficient without practice (Ch’en, 586). The strategies or textual methods C h’en used to discredit the Great Learning involved ordinary methods of textual criticism. C h’en de­ clared that the Great Learning was not written by Confucius nor his

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disciple (Ch’en, 552). He tried to prove that there was no evidence for attributing the Great Learning to Confucius. Nor was there any refer­ ence to the term ta-hsiieh in other Confucian texts such as the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Book o f Odes, or the Book o f Documents. C h’en then explained how C h’eng I and Chu Hsi contributed to turning this heterodox text into the most important text of Confucianism. C h’en first pointed out that C h’eng I ’s claim that the Great Learning was a “bequeathed work” of Confucius was groundless (Ch’en, 562). C h’en argued that except three direct quotation o f the words of Confucius and Tseng Tzu, there was no evidence for the claim that the entire text represented Confucius’ ideas and those of Tseng Tzu (Ch’en, 557-558). Furthermore, unlike the Doctrine o f the Mean there was no mention of the term ta-hsiieh in other Confucian texts (Ch’en, 563). W hat contrib­ uted to the popularity of the text was its promotion by the emperor of the Sung dynasty (Ch’en, 562). C h’en’s explanation touches on the important role of institutions and power played in conferring canonicity on texts. The strategies that C h’en employed were commonly used to estab­ lish or deny intellectual affinities between texts and set of ideas. First, there was no inter-textual evidence for the authenticity of the Great Learning. By arguing that there was no trace of the idea in the most important sources of Confucius’ ideas, C h’en discredited the Great Learning as a Confucian Classic. Ch’en then identified the idea of chihchih (knowing where to stop) in the text as the cardinal teaching of the text and argued that the idea could only be a heterodox teaching in­ compatible with the teachings of Confucius. For Ch’en, only C h’an Buddhism advocated instant enlightenm ent and the term chih-chih in the Great Learning signified a similar idea. According to Ch’en, the learning of a Confucian gentlemen ( chun-tzu) ended only with his life (Ch’en, 554). The idea that once one becomes enlightened, there is no more to know is nothing but C h’an Buddhism, he argued. But the char­ acterization of the idea of chih-chih as an idea similar to C h’an Bud­ dhism was clearly C h’en’s reaction against Chu H si’s interpretation of the term. C h’en was fully aware that removing the Confucian status from the Great Learning would eliminate the source for all the contro­ versy about the textual and edition problems that had occupied schol­ ars since Wang Yang-ming promoted the Old Edition. Even though C h’en was deeply committed to Wang Yang-ming’s teaching about the “unity of knowledge and practice” (chih-hsing ho-i), he was not con­ cerned about the impact of his textual surgery on W ang’s teaching.

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This had to do with his own moral philosophy, which underscored moral practice and ritual practice.41 How justified was C h’en’s rejection of the Great Learning as a C h’an Buddhist text? The only evidence C h’en presented is the view that chihchih (knowing where to stop) was a C h’an teaching. This argument does not sound convincing in term s of the amount of evidence mar­ shalled in support of the claim. But it was not so much different from the assertion made by C h’eng I and Chu Hsi about the authorship of the Great Learning. Both used a similar method of asserting an intel­ lectual link between a person and a text or a teaching. In the case of C h’eng I and Chu Hsi, they attributed the text to Confucius and his disciple. The Great Learning was represented as a canonical text, pre­ sumably retrieved from among the writings of the scholars of the Han dynasty. While disputing Chu Hsi’s interpolation and editorial changes, Wang Yang-ming continued to accept the intellectual link Chu and C h’eng I had asserted between Confucius and the text. But this link was rejected by C h’en Ch’ueh who instead argued for the existence of a link between C h’an Buddhism and the text. Unlike Chu H si’s claim, the ideological link Ch’en constructed between the Great Learning and C h’an Buddhism was not grounded in authorship. C h’en’s “evidence” was not an imputed author, which is a common textual strategy, but an ideological link to “heterodoxy.” Neither C h’en nor Chu presented any compelling evidence, textual or otherwise, for such a link. The classification of the Great Learning as a Confucian canon hinged upon those claims. Feng Fang’s insertion of a passage by Yen Yuan into the Stele Edition clearly was a strategy commonly used to identify the intellectual orientation of a text. The method for creating an ideological filiation for a text was through a reductionist process, suppressing its heterogeneity and complexity to a manageable set of fix ideas. The same method was used to eliminate a text from an intellectual traditon by labelling it a heterodox work or forgery. A similar conclusion was reached by another scholar in the early C h’ing regarding the Great Learning as a Buddhist treatise. Yao Chiheng went even further than C h’en in his iconoclastic endeavor.42 He argued that the Doctrine of the Mean was essentially a Ch’an Buddhist text and the Great Learning contained substantial Buddhist ideas. He declared that the Great Learning was a collection of C h’an Buddhist teachings.43He explained how the work contained Ch’an Buddhism even though it preceded the introduction of Buddhism in the Han dynasty:

64

Classics and Interpretations The principle expressed in the Great Learning is the same as Ch’an Buddhism. There was no need for Buddha to come to China because there were already Ch’an Buddhist principles that Chinese could themselves perceive without getting them from Buddhists.44

Yao believed in the universal access to principles— be they Confucian or Buddhist, they could be discovered in China and in India.45 This grounded the authority to impose a certain reading on a text in an intel­ lectual autonomy similar to that claimed by the Tao-hsiieh Confucians and Wang Yang-ming. The “evidence” of Buddhism Yao found in the work was of ideo­ logical nature. For example, Yao argued that ming ming-te (illuminate one’s bright virtues), one of the “Three Cardinal Principles” that Chu Hsi elucidated, was actually a Buddhist idea. There was no such a word in antiquity. The meaning of the term ming-te in the Book o f History was clear and did not need a superfluous verb “ming” before it. The addition of an extra ming was unequivocal evidence of Buddhism be­ cause ming-te was treated as the essence (pen-t’i) and the ming was the effort. For Yao, this was nothing but the empty talk of the Buddhists. Yao quoted several Buddhist phrases with the character ming to show their similarity with the ming in the Great Learning.*6 In his overview of the subversion of the true meaning of the Great Learning, Yen Yuan argued that “Since the Spring and Autumn period, through the C h’in and Han, the [meaning] of the Great Learning had been obscured by the hegemons’ policies; since the T ’ang through Sung, Yuan and the Ming, what had destroyed the Great Learning was C h’an Buddhism. The hegemons’ schemes can be easily detected, but C h’an Buddhism cannot.”47Yen’s concern over the pernicious effects of Bud­ dhism on Confucian scholars was representative of a growing purism that sought to purge heterodox elements— textual and ideological— that were believed to have infiltrated the Confucian doctrine and its canon. The iconoclastic attack on the Great Learning mounted by C h’en C h’iieh and Yao Chi-heng was one of the most forceful manifestation of this purist current that was to sweep across many cultural realms.48 Accusation of heterodoxy hurled against the Great Learning, how­ ever, received strong objection from the followers of Chu Hsi. Hu Wei (1633-1714) took up the gauntlet to defend Chu H si’s exposition in linguistic and ideological terms. He defended both the textual and the doctrinal paradigms. W hat is interesting to note is the concession he made regarding certain words. He discussed the wide range of render­ ings of the term ko-wu. For him, Chu Hsi was correct in reading the

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character ko as “to the extreme” (chih). If like some critics claimed, it meant “ward o f f ’ ( kan-ko), it smacked of C h’an Buddhist teaching.49 Similarly, Hu quoted C h’en Lung-cheng’s idea that Wang Yang-ming made a mistake in changing hsin-min to chin-min. The phrase chin-min would resemble Mo Tzu’s teaching of “universal love,” a different ver­ sion of Buddhist teaching regarding human kinship.50 Clearly, the polysemy of language is a source of the danger of falling into hetero­ dox traps if one does not know the “correct” doctrine and read the text in accordance with the range of meanings sanctioned by the doctrine. To conclude, the choice and use of techniques of textual criticism to establish authorship, to restore the “original” form, and to distinguish the intellectual identity of a text are often guided by hermeneutical principles grounded in contesting ideologies. The textual and doctrinal paradigms of Chu Hsi, Wang Yang-ming’s Old Edition, and the re­ configuration of the Great Learning under the label of the Stele Edi­ tion by Feng Fang were discursive strategies employed to advance their own beliefs or reading of a text and the Confucian tradition. The case of C h’en C h’iieh’s rejection of the Great Learning as a Confucian work clearly shows that the markers or signposts of intellectual affinity and lineage were grounded on a series of strategies that fix authorship to a set of highly selected ideas or values through a series of reductionist attempts that eliminate or deny fluidity, heterogeneity, and complexity of a text. These are the strategies that were employed at various herm e­ neutical moments of the Great Learning as a Confucian canonical work, a forgery, and a heterodox work of C h’an Buddhism.

Notes 1.

2. 3.

4.

I use the word “ideology” in the sense Paul Ricoeur defines, i.e., as both a legiti­ mization tool of the political regime, ideology in the Marxian sense, and as a symbolic structure that is constitute of social reality, an ideology in terms of Clifford Geertz’s theory of culture. See his “Introductory lecture,” in Lectures on Ideology and Utopia (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986). See Roland Barthes, “From Work to Text,” in Josue V. Harari, ed., Textual Strat­ egies: Perspectives in Post-structuralist Criticism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), 75. For a discussion of the importance of role of the historical materiality of text in the production of meaning, see Roger Chartier, “Texts, Forms, and Interpreta­ tions,” in On the Edge o f the Cliff: History; Language, and Practices (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), 81-89. Here I follow Paul Riceour in his use of the term ideology. It is both a “false consciousness” serving the ruling class and an integrating system that bind people together. See his Ideology and Utopia.

66 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

10. 11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16.

17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

Classics and Interpretations John Henderson, Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison ofConfucain and Western Exegesis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 49. For a discussion of European views, see Susan Cherniak, “Book Culture and Textual Transmission in Sung China,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies (HJAS), vol. 54, June 1994, 5-125. The elevation of the Four Books into the Confucian canon in the Sung was pre­ ceded by the T’ang scholar Ch'tian Te-yu. See David McMullen, State and Schol­ ars in Tang China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 96-97. For discussion of the sources and general nature of the Confucian classics in the pre-Han period, see Henderson, Scripture, Canon and Commentaries, ch. 1. Lin Ch’ing-chang, Ch’ing-ch’u ti cWiin-ching pien-wei hsiieh (A study of the critical examination of falsified classical texts in the early Ch’ing) (Taipei: Wen­ ching ch’u-pan-she, 1990), 359. Also, Huang Chin-hsing, “Li-hstieh, k’ao-chti hsiieh, yu cheng-chih: i Ta-hstieh kai-pen ti fa-chan wei li-cheng” (Neo-Confu­ cianism, textual criticism, and politics: the development of the revised editions of the Ta-hsiieh as an example), in Bulletin o f the Institute o f History and Philol­ ogy, Academic Sinica, vol. LX, pt. IV (1989), 889-90. Ibid. Huang Chin-hsing points out that the Great Learning, unlike conventional ac­ count, might have been published as a separate treatise prior to Ssu-ma Kuang’s commentary. But Ssu-ma’s commentary may still be the first commentary on the Great Learning as an independent text. “Li-hstieh, k’ao-chti hsiieh, yu chengchih,” 889-90. Chu Hsi, Chu Wen-kung wen-chi (hereafter CWKWC) (Taipei: Shang-wu yinshu-kuan, 1979), 13:749. However, when he wrote the preface for his commen­ taries on the Four Books, he retreated from the confident tone regarding the text’s authors. Chu Hsi, Chu tzu yii-lei, (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chti, 1986), vol. 6, 2193. Chu Hsi’s notion of the presence of a ‘Three Cardinal Principles and Eight Head­ ings” may have been borrowed from Lin Chih-ch’i (1112-1176). See Lin Ch’ing-chang, Ch’ing ch’u ti ch’Un-ching pien-wei hsiieh, 361. Julia Ching, To Acquire Wisdom: The Way o f Wang Yang-ming (New York: Co­ lumbia University Press, 1976), 79. The appearance of Chu Tzu wan-nien tinglun immediately provoked attack from supporters of Chu Hsi. They accused Wang of mistaking Chu’s view in his middle period as his later period. According to Wing-tsit Chan, in terms of the dating of the letters, Wang’s claim is defensible, but his choice of letters, however, is not representative of Chu’s view, i.e., only thirty-four pieces out of over 1,600 letters. See Wing-tsit Chan, “Ts’ung Chu Hsi wan-nien ting-lun k’an Yang-ming chih yu Chu Hsi,” in Chu hsiieh lun-chi (Col­ lected essays on the study of Chu Hsi) (Taipei: Hstieh-sheng shu-chti, 1982), 358-61. Wang Yang-ming, “Preface to the Old Edition of the Great Learning,” in Wang Yang-ming ch’iian-chi (Hong Kong: Kuang-chih shu-chti), 58. Wang Yang-ming, Ch ’uan-hsi lu, in Wang Yang-ming ch *iian-shu (Taipei: Chengchung shu-chti, 1976), 4. Wing-tsit Chan, tr. Instructions for Practical Living and Other Neo-Confucian Writings by Wang Yang-ming (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), 159. Mao Ch’i-ling, Ta-hsiieh cheng-wen (Verifying the text of the Great Learning), Szu-ku cWiian-shu (SKCS), cheng-pen, ser. 9, vol. 65, l:lb-2a. Hereafter THCW. Lo Ch’in-shun, K ’un chih chi, appendix, SKCS, vol. 714, la-2a. Julia Ching, To Acquire Wisdom, 101.

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23. Ibid., 102. 24. The translation is based on Julia Ching, who has modified Wing-tsit Chan’s. Ching, op. cit., 102, 2nd Instructions for Practical Living and Other Neo-Confucian Writings, 159. 25. Craig Clunas, Superfluous Things: Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modem China (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1991), 87, 109-115, 110, 114. 26. See Liu Ssu-yuan, Ta-hsiieh ku-chin pen t ’ung-k’ao (Taipei: Chung-kuo tzuhsueh ming-chu chi-cheng, 1977), 3:2a. Also see Li Chi-hsiang, Liang Sung ilai Ta-Hsueh kai-pen chih yen-chiu (Modified editions of the Great Learning since the Sung times) (Taipei: Hsueh-sheng shu-chii, 1988), 145-154. 27. The handcopied edition was written in the kai style. But later there were printed edition written in chuan and li styles, Mao Ch’i-ling,7b-/wwe/i cheng-wen, 2:4b6b. 28. Lin Ch’ing-chang, Ch’ing ch’u ti ch’iin-chingpien-wei hsiieh, 413-16. 29. Li Chi-hsiang, op. cit., 145, 157-58. For example, the Stele Edition was printed in the collectaneate Shuo fu. See Yao Chi-heng, Ku-chin wei-shu kao (A study of falsified text in the past and present), in Chung-kuo hsiieh-shu ming-chu (Taipei: Shih-chieh shu-chii, 1960), 6. 30. Li Chi-hsiang, op. cit., 137-41. 31. Mao Ch’i-ling, THCW, 2:3b. See also Huang Chin-hsing, “Li-hsueh, k’ao-chiihsiieh, yii cheng-chih,” 905 32. Li Chi-hsiang, op. cit., 141-42. 33. Chang Tzu-lieh, Ssu-shu ta-ch ’iian p ’ien (Ming ch’ung-chen edition, 1640, pref­ ace; Taipei: National Central Library, xeroxed copy). 34. Mao Ch’i-ling, THCW, 2:6b. 35. Mao Ch’i-ling quoted Ch’en Yao-wen’s remarks in Ching-t’ien chi-i. See Mao, THCW, 2:3a-b. 36. Liu Tsung-chou, Liu tzu ch’iian-shu (Taipei: Hua-wen shu-chii, 1974), 36:1b, quoted in Huang Chin-hsing, 907. 37. Kuo Tzu-chang, Ch’ing-lei kung i-shu (Taipei: National Central Libary, Ming edition), 15:9b-10a. 38. Quoted in Hu Wei, Ta-hsiieh i-chen, SKCS, chen-pen, ser.3, vol.116. 39. Chow, The Rise o f Confucian Ritualism in Late Imperial China: Ethics, Clas­ sics, and Lineage Discourse (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), 47-48. 40. Ch’en Ch’ueh, Ch’en Ch’ueh chi (Collected writings of Ch’ien Ch’ueh) (Pe­ king: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1979), 557. 41. Chow, The Rise o f Confucian Ritualism, 47-48. 42. Lin Ch’ing-chang, Yao Chi-heng chu-tso chi (Taipei: Institute for the Study of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academic Sinica,1994), vol.3, 315-319. 43. Lin Ch’ing-chang, op.cit, vol. 3,433. 44. Ibid. 45. Yao, however, argued that the principles of Confucianism were not discovered in India. Lin Ch’ing-chang, op. cit., vol. 3, 433. 46. Lin Ch’ing-chang, op.cit., vol. 3,434-35. 47. Yen Yuan, Ssu-shu cheng-wu, Yen Li tsung-shu, vol. 1,49. 48. For a discussion of the various expression of Confucian purism and the historical factors that contributed to its rise, see Chow, The Rise of Confucian Ritualism. 49. Hu Wei, op. cit., 4.31b-33a. 50. Hu Wei, op. cit., 4.4b-5a.

Part 2 Canonicity and Orthodoxy

4 Touchstones of Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy John B. Henderson T h e problem of delimiting the bounds of the canon, of determining which texts are scriptural and which not, has loomed large in most great religious traditions, including the Confucian. That this was a con­ troversial as well as unsettled issue in the Confucian tradition is indi­ cated by the diverse enumerations of the classics that appear in Confucian literature from the Han through the Ch’ing eras. Controver­ sies over the canonicity of texts were not, however, limited to the prob­ lem of marking the outer boundaries of the canon. Even among those who generally agreed on the canonicity of the Four Books and Five Classics, for example, there were divergent views on the proper hierar­ chical relationships of the individual classics with one another. Although all the books of the Confucian canon contained the wisdom of the Con­ fucian sages, just as all books of the Bible demonstrated divine revela­ tion, some apparently presented it in a more concentrated or definitive form than others. Such books, be they the Epistle to the Romans in the New Testament or the Doctrine o f the Mean in the Confucian canon, were often accorded greater exegetical attention, according to the trends of the times and the temper of the exegete. Privileging some parts of the canon almost necessarily led to a sort of benign neglect of the less privileged parts, to the extent that the formal bounds of a canon often had little to do with the area of the exegete’s interest. On the other hand, areas of exegetical concentration within the canon might change over time, or might diverge even within one particular era. Indeed, much of the intellectual history of Confucianism might be written in terms of shifts in exegetical attention from one classic or group of classics to 71

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another: from the Five Classics, to the Four Books, and back again; from the Changes Classic in the early C h’ing, to the Ritual Classics in the mid C h’ing, to the Spring and Autumn Annals and its commentaries in the late Ch’ing. The historian examining the apparent capacity of the multivocal classics to offer something to meet the political and philo­ sophical concerns of exegetes of every age may well exclaim, in the words of the old commentators, that “the classics are inexhaustible.” But exegetes, at least those operating within a well-established commentarial tradition, often narrow their focus to a much sharper point than simply one or two books of a canon. As Eliot Deutsch and J. A. B. van Buitenen have remarked in their discussion of Vedantic ex­ egesis, “in the end it is often no more than a handful of assertions that finally constitute the scriptural foundations of a faith.”1And as Frank Kermode has commented in his examination of the Christian gospels, “Sometimes it appears that the history of interpretation may be thought of as a history of exclusions which enable us to seize upon this issue rather than on some other as central, and choose from the remaining mass only what seems most compliant.”2 Illustrations of this point may be found in modem ideological discourse as well as in traditional scrip­ tural exegesis. For example, “A socialist of the M arxist stamp regards private ownership of the institutions and technology of industrial pro­ duction as the supreme abomination, and most of the rest of his beliefs are derived from or affected by this dominant article of faith.”3 These foundational assertions which are addressed to central issues appear in several major religious traditions. In Vedanta, they are often known as mahavakya or “great utterances,” the most famous of which is probably the Upanisadic assertion that “That thou art,” identifying the atman with the Brahman. Buddhist exegetes also sometimes char­ acterized their mantras as expressions of key points of doctrine, as well as summations of the meaning of the sutras.4 Both mahavakyas and mantras thus effected a narrowing of the range of exegetical discourse to a rather small number of issues in proportion to the many latent (or even apparent) in the total canon. Naturally, assumption of the power to identify the central issues or assertions in a canonical tradition went a long way toward enabling one to determine the standards of orthodox belief. As most debaters know, whoever can force, fool, convince, or cajole an opponent into arguing a matter on one’s own terms has at least half the battle won. In the course of claiming that a certain issue or tenet is central to the tradition, one tends to downplay or even ignore other issues raised by

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one’s opponents. This sometimes leads to a sort of reductionist presen­ tation of other points of view as stemming from a basic error on one of the touchstone issues, however little they may be related in fact. Thus, for example, a wide range of “heresies” in ancient and medieval Christendom were often rather implausibly attributed to a basic error in Christological or Trinitarian doctrine, even though the heresy may have had little to do with Christology, the Trinity, or even with doc­ trine.5 Likewise, orthodox rabbis in medieval Judaism often reduced diverse groups of heretics to the status of “deniers of the Oral Torah,” even though the “heretics” in question may not have even addressed the issue of the status of the Oral Torah. Do any facsimiles of these “touchstone issues,” or equivalents of the Vedantic mahavakyas or Buddhist mantras, exist in the Confucian, or more particularly, the Neo-Confucian exegetical tradition? The absence of formal creeds and a recognized ecclesiastical authority does, in­ deed, render such touchstone issues or assertions harder to identify in Neo-Confucianism than in the major religious traditions of the West. But even a cursory reading of Neo-Confucian texts, especially those associated with the orthodox Tao Learning or C h’eng-Chu school, does reveal several such foci of intensive exegetical activity and debate. The most well-known and widely heralded such issue in Confucian thought through the ages, not just Neo-Confucian, is that of the nature of human nature (jen-hsing). A recent dictionary of Chinese philoso­ phy declares that “the theory of human nature was the most important problem of traditional Chinese philosophy, and was also the question [eliciting] the greatest quantity of dissensions and debates.”6 Its impor­ tance, moreover, was not limited to one particular period of time, but extended from the classical Confucian philosopher M encius (371-289 BCE?) through the Neo-Confucians of the C h’ing era.7 According to A. C. Graham, “This profoundly troubling issue... continued to be dis­ cussed, urgently and fruitlessly even at the tim es when Confucians showed least interest in philosophical abstractions,” such as during the T ’ang era.8 By contrast, the Pelagian controversy over the existence of original sin, the nearest early Christian analogue to the Confucian de­ bate on human nature, was a rather short-lived episode in the history of Western Christendom. Neo-Confucian philosophers and scholars, as well as modem histo­ rians, have attested to the central importance of the question of human nature in Confucian discourse. This is particularly true of scholars of the M ing and early C h’ing eras, as On-cho Ng has pointed out.9 Ac­

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cording to the early Ming C h’eng-Chu scholar Hsiieh Hsiian (13921464), “The only reason why the [Confucian] Way was not clear after M encius is that ‘[human] nature’ was not made clear. The Way trans­ mitted successively by sages and worthies is in exhausting [human] nature and that is all.”10 The orthodox early C h’ing scholar, Tiao Pao (1603-1669), adduced that “The most important thing to understand in learning about the Way is in what manner [human] nature is good,” echoing Ku Hsien-ch’eng’s (1550-1612) statement that “the gist of the learning of the Sages is the goodness of human nature.” 11And Hu Chiijen (1434-1484) argued that since Mencius correctly interpreted hu­ man nature as good, he was consequently right about everything else. Conversely, Hsiin-tzu’s misinterpretation of human nature as evil led to his being wrong across the board.12 According to several Neo-Confiician scholars, the common error of all major heresies and heterodoxies, not just Hstin-tzu’s, was their fail­ ure to recognize the potential goodness of human nature as it had been affirmed by Mencius. Chu Hsi (1130-1200) declared that such diverse heresiarchs as Kao-tzu and Yang Chu, as well as the Buddhists and even a few wayward Neo-Confucians, all mistakenly promoted the idea that human nature is neither good nor evil.13The mid-Ch’ing scholar, Meng C h’ao-jan (1730-1797), identified the common source of such diverse heresies and heterodoxies as those of Kao-tzu, Chuang-tzu, and the C h’an Buddhist Hui-neng as their denial that human nature is good.14And the orthodox Ch’ing anthologist, Chang Po-hsing (1651-1725), accounted for the eclipse of Confucian philosophy for 1,400 years between Mencius and the Ch’eng brothers by positing that the scholars and literati of that period all failed to appreciate Mencius’ fundamental insight.15 Apart from such general affirmations that the touchstone of ortho­ doxy (and the millstone of heresy) was M encius’ teaching on human nature, Neo-Confucian scholars also interpreted important conflicts and schisms in the Neo-Confucian tradition as revolving about this issue, though not always justifiably. According to Chu Hsi, the basic error of his major philosophical antagonist, Lu Hsiang-shan (1139-1192), was on the nature of human nature,16 a view affirmed by m odem historians of Chinese philosophy. Feng Yu-lan, in fact, expressed the essential difference between the two in terms of a simple form ula somewhat reminiscent of the Christological formulas of early Christianity in which orthodoxy turned on a single diphthong: “M aster Chu said that human nature is the same as principle; [Lu] Hsiang-shan said that the heartmind is the same as principle [citing Chu H si’s second letter to Li Tsai],

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Although there is only one character’s difference [between Chu and Lu] in this saying, it truly represents the essential difference between the two m en’s philosophies.”17 W hile a simple historian like m yself should not perhaps question a philosopher’s judgm ent on what is es­ sential, I may at least point out that there were several other important disagreements between Chu and Lu, including those on the source of the “Supreme Ultimate” ( t ’ai-chi), on the best method for attaining sagehood, and on the proper place of classical and textual studies. Yet the notion that the question of human nature was the major touchstone of orthodoxy in the Neo-Confucian tradition has inclined both NeoConfucian philosophers and m odem historians of Chinese philosophy to interpret divergences within that tradition as pivoting on that issue. Some Neo-Confucian thinkers explained not only divergences within Neo-Confucianism, but also those between Tao Learning and its major non-Confucian bugaboo, C h’an Buddhism, in terms of their differing views on human nature. Lu Lung-ch’i (1630-1692), for example, at­ tributed all of the errors of C h’an to its failure to understand human nature: “The reason why [Ch’an] ruins normal human relationships, goes against humanity and rightness, exhibits confusion and oddities, and lets itself transgress the normal standard is that it does not under­ stand human nature.” 18Chang Li-hsiang (1611-1674) attributed the fail­ ings of Buddhism in general to its separation of human nature from heart/mind: “The Buddhists speak of heart/mind apart from human nature; therefore they tend toward wildness and dissipation. They speak of human nature apart from heart/mind; therefore they reach empti­ ness and extinction.” 19This illustrates the Neo-Confucian tendency to grade other religious traditions by the same standards of orthodoxy as they applied to rival Confucian schools and thinkers. Not all of these Neo-Confucian standards have obvious relation­ ships with the problem of human nature. In comparison with the touch­ stones of orthodoxy in Western religious traditions, such as Christianity, those in Neo-Confucianism were rather independent of one another. They were not related as closely and conspicuously as the Trinitarian and Christological issues were in early Christianity, for example. Just as historians of religion have characterized some religious systems, such as the Vedic, as practicing a sort of serial monotheism in which supremacy is accorded to the particular god one is addressing at the moment, so Neo-Confucian authorities seem to have followed the cus­ tom of attributing supreme importance to the particular touchstone of

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orthodoxy that they are discussing at the moment, practically ignoring the rest. W hile the issue of human nature was a perennial topic of discussion in Confucianism from the time of M encius forward, other Neo-Confucian touchstones of orthodoxy rarely appear as such before the rise of Tao Learning in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Some are even fur­ ther restricted to the orthodox C h’eng-Chu school of Neo-Confucian­ ism. An example of the latter is the aphorism “Principle is one; its particularizations are diverse” ( li-ifen-shu ). According to Irene Bloom, this saying “found a place in the writing of almost every adherent of the C h’eng-Chu tradition down to and including Tseng Kuo-fan (18111872), though with varying significance in different contexts.”20 But it appears not in classical Confucian texts, only in Neo-Confucian ones, specifically those by Chang Tsai (1020-1077) who advanced the idea in his influential “Western Inscription” (Hsi-ming), and C h’eng I (10331107) who used the phrase in commenting on the “Western Inscrip­ tion.”21 This brief aphorism became the basis for Neo-Confucian ethics. According to Chu Hsi, it covered all human endeavors: “there is no human activity which is not described by the expression ‘establish the many distinctions (between the particular manifestations) and (then) apply the one universal Principle.”22 It is somewhat ironic, however, that this touchstone of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy reflects the teach­ ings of Hua-yen Buddhism, particularly the proposition that “Every­ where the moon can be seen when it shines on all the rivers.”23According to Donald Munro, even the expression itself, li-ifen-shu, “first appears in the Buddhist writings of Tao-sheng” (d. 434).24 On the other hand, Chu Hsi saw the basic difference between Con­ fucianism and Buddhism as expressed by that between the one-many aphorism of C h’eng-I and the one-and-all viewpoint of the Buddhist moon-river analogy: “Since the doctrine of one-and-all denied that the many copies of the one principle existing as manifestations do have distinctions, it was a heterodox (i-tuan) one.”25Chu Hsi anachronistically applied the doctrine of the one-many not only to indicate the hetero­ doxy of Buddhism, but also to criticize M encius’ arch-heretical foes, Mo Ti and Yang Chu. According to Chu, these heresiarchs’ well-known ethical errors were related to their one-sidedly affirming one or the other aspect of the one-many formula: “Mo Ti advocated universal love (chien-ai), which means an affirmation of one principle but a denial of the various manifestations. Yang Chu advocated egoism, which means an affirmation of individual manifestations but a denial of one prin­

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ciple. They both took an erroneous, one-sided approach.”26According to Lo C h’in-shun (1465-1547), Kao-tzu’s basic error also lay in his failure to grasp both sides of this one-many formula: Had “[Mencius] been able to get Kao Tzu to appreciate this concept, who knows but that Kao Tzu might have been jolted into true understanding, in which case he would have submitted.”27 C h’eng-Chu scholars of the Ming and C h’ing eras reaffirmed the importance of the one-many formula as the touchstone of orthodoxy. According to Hsiieh Hsiian, the essential point of all the classics was “how the one principle is sufficient to cover the myriad particulari­ ties,” a point missed by heterodox philosophers.28 The most celebrated Ming defender of C h’eng-Chu orthodoxy, Lo C h’in-shun, also envis­ aged in the one-many aphorism the concentrated wisdom of the sages: “I submit that the subtle truth of the nature and endowment is summa­ rized in the formulation, ‘Principle is one; its particularizations are diverse.’ This is simple and yet complete, concise and yet utterly pen­ etrating.”29 For Lo, moreover, the realization of this truth was more than the product of scholastic calculations: “One day I experienced an enlightenment in respect to the words, ‘Principle is one; its particular­ izations are diverse ( li-ifen-shu j.’”30 Once having experienced this enlightenment, Lo was able to see traces of the one-many form ula at various key points in the classics, even though it was not directly expressed as such: From the Documents Classic: ‘“ Having the potential of a constant nature,’ refers to the oneness of principle. ‘Causing them tranquilly to pursue the course which it would indicate,’ refers to the diversity of particularizations.” From the Changes Classic: “That which, dwelling hidden within them, ‘brings [the Way] to completion is the nature,’ refers to the oneness of principle. ‘The humane [perceive it and call it humane], the wise [perceive it and call it wise], the people [use it day by day and are not aware of it]’ . . . refers to the diversity of particularizations.” From the Doctrine o f the Mean: “‘What Heaven has endowed is called the nature,’ refers to the oneness of principle. ‘Following one’s nature is called the Way,’ refers to the diversity of particularizations.” From the Mencius: “‘The nature is good,’ refers to the oneness of principle, but the statement was not extended to include the idea that particularizations differ. ‘The nature of some is good, and the nature of others is not good,’ refers to the diversity of particularizations, but the statement was not extended to include the idea of the oneness of principle.”3l1

The most famous philosopher of the late Ming, Liu Tsung-chou (1578-1646), also anachronistically attributed this teaching, if not the

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actual words, to classical Confucians, even to Confucius himself: “That principles are one and their manifestations many is nothing other than the all-pervasive teaching of Confucius.”32 The early-C h’ing C h’engChu scholar, Lu Shih-i (1611-1672), posited the pervasiveness of this principle in the universe at large as well as in Confucius: “every aspect of the myriad things and myriad affairs of the cosmos is [a case of] principle being one and its manifestations being diverse.”33As de Bary has pointed out, this doctrine is a constant theme in Lu’s writing.34 It appears as well in the work of Lu’s contemporary, Chang Li-hsiang, who accused Lu Hsiang-shan of knowing only the one principle while ignoring the diverse particularizations.35The pioneering Japanese NeoConfucian scholar, Fujiwara Seika( 1561-1619), also took this formula to be an essential feature of Confucian orthodoxy: “The True Way of learning in making ethical distinctions, takes ‘the unity of principle and the diversity of its particularizations’ (li-i fen-shu) as its basis.”36 Finally, the modem Confucian philosopher, Liu Shu-hsien, sees this formula as one possible basis for “a thoroughgoing reconstruction of philosophy based on a synthesis of the ancient and the modem, East and West.”37 A third major touchstone of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy that was ac­ tually identified as such by the Neo-Confucians themselves was, like the second, not an issue in Confucian writings prior to the eleventh century. Yet, of all the touchstones, this one has the highest and most distinguished classical pedigree, appearing in one of the classical texts that supposedly antedated even Confucius and Mencius. As such, it was regarded as the core and essence of the Tao-t’ung (transmission of the Way) which the Sung Neo-Confucians claimed to be reviving after a hiatus of about 1,400 years. Unlike the second touchstone of ortho­ doxy, this one had a definite and specific locus classicus in the “Coun­ sels of the Great Yu” chapter of the venerable and venerated Documents Classic which supposedly preserved the teachings of the revered sage kings of high antiquity, particularly Yao, Shun, and Yii the Great. This rather cryptic “sixteen-character transmission” of the Way is translated by Thomas Wilson as follows: The human mind is precarious; the mind of Tao is barely perceptible. Be discern­ ing and single-minded. Hold fast to the mean.38

Like the one-many form ula discussed above, the sixteen-character transmission was incorporated into the Neo-Confucian tradition by the C h’eng brothers, and identified as the essential message of the sages

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transmitted from antiquity by Chu Hsi. As Wilson has remarked, “The importance of the sixteen word transmission can hardly be overem­ phasized. It was inseparable from the orthodox tradition of the Way as understood by the Tao-hsiieh school.”39 Again like the one-many aphorism, the sixteen-character transmis­ sion was a mainstay of C h’eng-Chu polemics, particularly against the Buddhists. Just as Chu Hsi accused the Buddhists of overemphasizing the “one principle” at the expense of the “diverse particularizations,” so he also charged them with one-sidedly recognizing only the “human mind” (jen-hsin) while ignoring the “m ind of Tao” ( Tao-hsin) or moral mind: The Buddhists abandon the moral mind but hold on to the precarious human mind ... While they regard humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom as not being the nature, they regard the psycho-physical functions before their eyes as the na­ ture. This just indicates that they are mistaken in regard to the ultimate source.40

In this passage, the Buddhist error of one-sidedly focusing on the hu­ man mind while abandoning the moral mind (or mind of Tao) is con­ nected with their mistaken conception of human nature which recognizes only “the psycho-physical functions before their eyes as the nature.” Unaware that sprouts of virtue or goodness also exist in human nature, the Buddhists recognize no basis for transforming the error-prone hu­ man mind into the moral mind of the Tao. In a word, the Buddhists seemed to acknowledge no natural basis for ethical behavior, a very serious failing from a Neo-Confucian point of view. After Chu Hsi, the sixteen-character transmission experienced a more checkered career than did the other two touchstones of orthodoxy dis­ cussed above. W hile Wang Yang-ming (1472-1528) affirmed that this formula “was the beginning of the teaching of the M ind,”41 he was also attacked for allegedly having violated it. In the seventeenth century, the canonicity of this formula was decisively challenged by Yen Jochti’s (1636-1704) proof that the chapter of the Documents Classic in which it appears is spurious. However, C h’eng-Chu scholars of the Ch’ing era continued to affirm its relevance and importance. For ex­ ample, Lan Ting-yuan (1675-1733) maintained that “the sages and worthies consider the moral mind as the master of the human mind, while the heterodox schools cultivate the human mind while rejecting the m oral m ind.”42 In the nineteenth century, the neo-orthodox heresiographer, Fang Tung-shu (1772-1851), reaffirmed the sixteencharacter transmission as “the very heart of the Confucian/Ch’eng-Chu teaching ”43As late as 1958, a group of prominent m odem Confucian

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philosophers issued a manifesto identifying this transmission as the “fountain head of China’s cultural development” upheld by Sung and M ing N eo -C onfucians, even w hile ac k n o w led g in g its tex tu al inauthenticity.44 The three touchstones of C h’eng-Chu orthodoxy outlined above, the doctrine of the potential goodness of human nature, the one-principle/ diverse-particularizations formula, and the sixteen-character transmis­ sion, do not exhaust all the possibilities. There were other celebrated issues in Neo-Confiician discourse, such as the status of the Supreme Ultimate (t ’ai-chi), the interpretation of the phrase ko-wu (“investiga­ tion of things”) from the Great Learning, and the relationship between the sagely king and the hegemon. But while all of these issues were hotly debated at one time or another, probably none were quite so pe­ rennial in Neo-Confucian discourse through the centuries as were the three main touchstones of orthodoxy discussed above. Some of these subjects, such as the debate over the status of the cosmological linch­ pin, the “Supreme Ultimate,” almost disappeared from sight for con­ siderable periods of time. Further, none of these other issues was so consistently identified as the essence of the sagely teaching as were our three touchstones of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy. This gives rise to the question of why N eo-Confucian herm eneu­ tics tended to focus so much on these particular issues or assertions, which after all occupy only a tiny proportion of Confucian canonical texts. (The second does not even appear in the classical canon at all). One possible explanation m ight be that they expressed or at least im pinged on principles of general philosophical significance that philosophers in any highly developed intellectual tradition should rec­ ognize and consider. For example, the general question of the rela­ tionship between the One and the Many is a prim ary ontological issue in several ancient and medieval philosophical traditions. As Liu Shuhsien has pointed out, the Neo-Confucian insight that “Principle is one; but the m anifestations are m any” is of great philosophical value in that it “helps us to overcome the dichotomy betw een the monistic and pluralistic approaches” to reality.45 The sixteen-character trans­ m ission from the Documents Classic, at least as interpreted by NeoConfucians, also addresses a universal philosophical problem, that of m an’s relationship with a larger m oral order. Finally, the problem of hum an nature would be a logical focus for any philosopher con­ cerned with the problems of political or social reform: to construct

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an ideal state or society, one m ust know something about the nature of its human components. The Neo-Confucian is not the only major religious tradition in which such issues of great philosophical significance were addressed in the central tenets or assertions of the faith. The central theological issue of medieval Islam, that of the attributes of God, is also concerned, after a fashion, with the problem of the relationship of the one and the many, especially as manifested in debates over the correctness of anthropo­ m orphic d escriptions o f G od. The sam e m ight be said o f the Christological and Trinitarian debates that so preoccupied early Chris­ tian theologians. For these debates were related to the philosophical problem, current in Neo-Platonic thought, of how the ultimate reality, the One of God or the Supreme Good, could come into contact with the world of transience and multiplicity that humans experience .46 However, the Neo-Confucian commentators and their Western reli­ gious counterparts who focused on these touchstone issues were not sim­ ply indulging in thinly-disguised philosophical cogitations presented in the form of religious or theological assertions. For the Ch’eng-Chu NeoConfucians in particular, the issues and assertions that they identified as most central and essential to their tradition were the ones having the greatest polemical possibilities. As already indicated, both the “one-principle/diverse-particularizations” tenet and the “sixteen-character trans­ mission” distinguishing the mind of man from the mind of Tao were almost ideally suited in their two-foldness to serve as standards by which to peg one’s opponents, ranging from Ch’an Buddhists to utilitarian Confucians, as “one-sided” or “incomplete.” All of the various and diverse errors of these rival schools could thus be handily attributed to their fail­ ure to apprehend these key tenets in a balanced and comprehensive way, a prospect that was both psychologically comforting and polemically effective. Further, just as the “Mind of Tao” is subtle, so one’s under­ standing of these tenets must be both subtle and complete. For even a slight deviation on one of these basic principles would “truly be a case of an infinitesimal mistake in the beginning leading to an infinite error at the end .”47While thus typing Buddhists, Taoists, and other ancient nonConfucian philosophers, as well as latter-day Confucians of other schools, in terms of these touchstone tenets may be historically inaccurate, rhe­ torically unfair, and philosophically nugatory, it was nevertheless po­ lemically effective. This may be indicated by the fact that the non-orthodox “other” was sometimes forced to take his stand on grounds of contro­ versy defined by the orthodox exponents of Tao Learning.

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Finally, not only was this reductive focus on these key issues and assertions in the classics polemically useful, but it was also exegetically efficient. These statements, particularly the one-many assertion, were broad and abstract enough to allow exegetes to discuss and inter­ pret a broad range of important passages in the classics as expressions of one tenet. Lo C h’in-shun’s Knowledge Painfully Acquired, quoted above, interprets various key statem ents from the Documents, the Changes, the Doctrine of the Mean, and the Mencius as all referring to one side or the other of the “Principle is one; its particularizations are diverse” formula. Such an identification of a single thread running through the classics created the impression that this diverse body of texts was really a unified whole, and that the minds and sayings of the great sages all ran along the same line. This contributed to the authenti­ cation of the classics as the repository of a unitary vision and not simply a diverse congeries of various ancient texts. Thus attacks by C h’ing-era exegetes on the authenticity of these touchstone texts not only under­ mined some of the central principles of orthodox Neo-Confucianism, but also made it harder to conceive of the classics as a unified whole.

Notes Eliot Deutsch and J. A. B. van Buitenen, eds., A Source Book ofAdvaita Vedanta (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1971), 33. 2. Frank Kermode, The Genesis o f Secrecy: On the Interpretation of Narrative (Cam­ bridge: Harvard University Press, 1982), 20. 3. Edward Shils, Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 271. 4. See, for example, Gung-thang dkon-mchog-bstan-pa’i-sgron-me, An Explana­ tion o f the Heart Sutra, Illuminating the Hidden Meaning, in Donald S. Lopez, Jr., The Heart Sutra Explained: Indian and Tibetan Commentaries (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988), 178, 183, and 185. 5. See, for example, Ronald E. Heine, The Montanist Oracles and Testimonia (Ma­ con, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1989), ix; Joanne McW. Dewart, “The Christology of the Pelagian Controversy,” in Studia Patristica, vol. 17, ed. Eliza­ beth A. Livingstone (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1982), 1221, 1222, and 1240. 6. Wei Cheng-t’ung, Chung-kuo che-hsiieh ts’u-tien (Taipei: Ta-lin ch’u-pan she, 1980), 24. 7. Yang Hsiang-k’uei, Ch’ing-ju hsiieh-an hsin-pien, vol. 2 (Chinan: Ch’i-Lu shushe, 1988), 430. 8. A. C. Graham, “What Was New in the Ch’eng-Chu Theory of Human Nature?”, in Graham, Studies in Chinese Philosophy and Philosophical Literature (Singapore: Institute of East Asian Philosophies, 1986), 412. 9. On the particular importance of this issue in the late Ming and early Ch’ing, see On-cho Ng, “Hsing (Nature) as the Ontological Basis of Practicality in Early Ch’ing Ch’eng-Chu Confucianism: Li Kuang-ti’s (1642-1718) Philosophy,” Phi­ losophy East and West 44.1 (Jan. 1994), 86-88 passim. 10. Hsiieh Hsiian, Tu-shu lu, “Tao-t’ung,” in Ku-chin t ’u-shu chi-ch'eng, comp. Ch’en 1.

Touchstones of Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy

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Meng-lei at al. (Taipei: Ting-wen shu-chti, 1977 reprint), 60:1498. 11. Tiao Pao, “Hsing-shan erh-tse,” in Ch ’ing-ju hsileh-an hsin-pien, 2:291; Ku Hsiench’eng, “Chu-tzu erh-ta-pien hsti-shuo,” in Shushigaku taikei, vol. 11: Shushi no keiko, ed. Morohashi Tetsuji et al. (Tokyo: Meitoku shuppansha, 1978), 350. 12. Hu Chii-jen, Chil-yeh lu (Taipei: Taiwan Shang-wu, 1966), 1.6. 13. Charles Wei-hsun Fu, “Chu Hsi on Buddhism,” in Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucian­ ism, ed. Wing-tsit Chan (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1986), 389. This idea was echoed in the early Ch’ing era by Lu Liu-liang, who added Wang Yangming to the list of heresiarchs. Lii Liu-liang, Ssu-shu yii-lu 29, excerpted in Ch ’ingju hsileh-an hsin-pien, 2:434-435. 14. Kao Ling-yin and Ch’en Ch’i-fang, Fuchien Chu-tzu hsiieh (Fuchou: Fuchien jen-min ch’u-pan she, 1986), 505. 15. Chang Po-hsing, “Hsing-li cheng-tsung hsti,” in Ch ’ing-ju hsileh-an, comp. Hsli Shih-ch’ang (Taipei: Shih-chieh shu-chti, 1979 reprint), 12.17b. 16. Chu Hsi, Chu-tzu yii-lei chi lileh, comp. Chang Po-hsing (Taipei: Taiwan Shangwu, 1973), 7.222. 17. Feng Yu-lan, Chung-kuo che-hsileh shih (Hong Kong: T’ai-p’ing yang t’u-shu kung-ssu, 1975), 939. 18. Lu Lung-ch’i, “Hstieh-shu pien, chung,” in Lu Chia-shu hsien-sheng wen-chi (Taipei: Taiwan Shang-wu, 1965), 1.12. 19. Chang Li-hsiang, Pei-wang lu, in Shushigaku taikei, 11.383. 20. Irene Bloom, “On the ‘Abstraction’ of Ming Thought: Some Concrete Evidence from the Philosophy of Lo Ch’in-shun,” in Principle and Practicality: Essays in Neo-Confucianism and Practical Learning, ed. Wm. Theodore de Bary and Irene Bloom (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979), 95. 21. Chung-kuo che-hsileh ts ’u-tien, 567; Irene Bloom, Knowledge Painfully Acquired: The K ’un-chih chi by Lo Ch ’in-shun, translated, edited, and with an introduction by Irene Bloom (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), 123; Oshima Ko, “Sodai shiso to Dogaku,” in Shushigaku teki shi-i, ed. Oshima Ko (Tokyo, 1990), 496. 22. Dennis Levanthal, “Treading the Path from Yang Shih to Chu Hsi: A Question of Transmission in Sung Neo-Confucianism,” Bulletin of Sung-Yuan Studies, no. 14 (1978), 59. 23. Mao Huaixin, “The Establishment of the School of Chu Hsi and Its Propagation in Fukien,” in Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism, 510. 24. Donald J. Munro, Images of Human Nature: A Sung Portrait (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), 60. 25. Teng Aimin, “Chu Hsi’s Theory of the Great Ultimate,” in Chu Hsi and NeoConfucianism, 106, citing Yen-p’ing ta-wen. 26. Ibid., 107. 27. Lo Ch’in-shun, Knowledge Painfully Acquired, trans. Bloom, 123. In this same passage, Lo suggests that the reason why Mencius could not get this concept across to Kao-tzu was that “At that point Mencius was discussing the nature with Kao Tzu and refuting each of Kao Tzu’s statements in turn, so that he had no opportunity to formulate this” (ibid.). This statement reflects the relative discon­ nectedness of the Neo-Confucian touchstones with one another, a point men­ tioned above. 28. Hsiieh Hsiian, Tu-shu lu 3.7b, in Cheng-i-t’ang ch’ilan-shu, comp. Chang Pohsing (Taipei: I-wen yin-shu-kuan, 1968 reprint), case 10. 29. Lo Ch’in-shun, Knowledge Painfully Acquired, trans. Bloom, 65. 30. Ibid. 3.37, quoted in Bloom, “‘Abstraction’ of Ming Thought,” 93. 31. Lo Ch’in-shun, Knowledge Painfully Acquired, trans. Bloom, 65-66. Liu Shu-

84

32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

Classics and Interpretations hsien also sees the workings of the one-many formula in Mencius, specifically in its presentation of the “Four Beginnings of humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom”: While “[t]he manifestations of these four virtues are surely differ­ ent from one another, ...Mencius saw the four virtues as manifestations of the same principle.” Liu Shu-hsien, “Confucian Ideals and the Real World: A Criti­ cal Review of Contemporary Neo-Confucian Thought,” in Confucian Traditions in East Asian Modernity: Moral Education and Economic Culture in Japan and the Four Mini-Dragons, ed. Tu Wei-ming (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996), 108-109. Liu Tsung-chou, “Quotations from Liu Tsung-chou,” in Huang Tsung-hsi, The Record of Ming Scholars, a selected translation edited by Julia Ching with the collaboration of Chaoying Fang (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1987), 63. Lu Shih-i, Ssu-pien lu chi-yao 31.5b, in Ssu-k’u ch’uan-shu chen-pen, ssu-chi, ed. Wang Yun-wu (Taipei: Taiwan shang-wu, 1974 reprint), vol. 132. Wm. Theodore de Bary, Learning for One's Self: Essays on the Individual in Neo-Confucian Thought (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 315. Yang Hsiang-k’uei, Ch'uig-ju hsiieh-an hsin-pien, 1:641. Fujiwara Seika, quoted in Wm. Theodore de Bary, “Sagehood as Secular and Spiri­ tual Ideal in Tokugawa Neo-Confucianism,” in Principle and Practicality, 131. Liu, “Confucian Ideals and the Real World,” 108. The translation presented here of this passage from the “Counsels of the Great Yii” chapter of the Documents Classic appears in Thomas A. Wilson, Genealogy o f the Way: The Construction and Uses of the Confucian Tradition in Late Impe­ rial China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995), 86. An almost identical passage appears in the Hsiin-tzu, ch. 21 (chieh-pi). Thomas A. Wilson, “Genealogy of the Way: Representing the Confucian Tradi­ tion in Neo-Confucian Anthologies” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago, 1988), 46. Chu Hsi, Yii-lei 126.13a, translated in Peter N. Gregory, Tsung-mi and the Sinification of Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 301. Wang Yang-ming, “Preface to the Collected Writings of Lu Chiu-yuan (1520),” in Julia Ching, To Acquire Wisdom: The Way of Wang Yang-ming (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), 206. Lan Ting-yuan, “Mien-yang hsiieh chun,” in Kao, Fuchien Chu-tzu hsiieh, 421. Wm. Theodore de Bary, The Trouble with Confucianism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), 85. Carsun Chang et al., “A Manifesto for a Re-appraisal of Sinology and Recon­ struction of Chinese Culture,” in Chang, The Development of Neo-Confucian Thought, vol. 2 (New York: Bookman Associates, 1962), 461. Liu Shu-hsien, “Confucian Ideals and the Real World,” 108. R. P. C. Hanson, “The Transformation of Images in the Trinitarian Theology of the Fourth Century,” in Studia Patristica, 17:97. Lo Ch’in-shun, Knowledge Painfully Acquired, trans. Bloom, 49, alluding to /wei t ’ung-kua yen 5a, in I-wei, ed. Wang Ch’ien-yii (Pan-ch’iao: San-ts’ai shuchli, 1978 reprint), 205.

5 Scripture and Authority: The Political Dimension of Han Wu-ti’s Canonization of the Five Classics Yen-zen Tsai

T h e Confucian Classics have in recent years rekindled the interest of scholars of religious studies.1Among those scholars, Wilfred C. Smith’s proposal to reconceptualize the Chinese ching from a comparative approach merits our serious attention.2 Smith begins by criticizing the double standard which Western scholars have long applied in translat­ ing the Buddhist and Taoist ching as “scriptures” on the one hand, and the Confucian ching as “classics” on the other. The distinction between these two translations, initiated by the early Jesuit missionaries in China with a ulterior theological agenda, has shaped Westerners’ differing understandings of the three Chinese cultural or religious traditions. Scriptures have been understood in the West as sacred texts, as in the cases of the Christian Bible, the Torah, and the Qu’ran, which are in­ comparably religious. Classics, by contrast, denote valuable but secu­ lar Greco-Roman texts, the status of which is inferior to that of scrip­ tures on the traditional Christian value scale. Confucianism has thus paralleled the Western classical tradition, worthy of respect but lack­ ing a religious dimension. Smith suspects that the Western dichotomy of the sacred versus the secular, by which scriptures are distinguished from classics, has dis­ torted our perception of human religiosity. He affirms that scriptures and classics do not represent two incompatible generic expressions. 85

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Rather, they very often function similarly. Both the Chinese ching and the Western classics manifest the scriptural quality if one looks care­ fully into their respective histories of transmission and influence. Smith emphatically states that as a generic category or concept, “scrip­ ture is a human activity.”3 It is a relational term, implying interactions between a faith community and a text or texts. No text could automati­ cally become a scripture without human creative participation .4Human actors, rather than the text and its content, should be our focus as far as the investigation of the meaning of scripture is concerned. As Smith sees it, the Confucian tradition consists of three important dimensions. The first is related to the participants, that is, those called the Classicists. The second is a transcendent vision which the partici­ pants have cherished and to which they have devoted their lives. The last is the collection of writings which enshrines the Confucian vision and has claimed the Classicists’ wholehearted study and faithful trans­ mission .5These three levels— human agents, a transcendent vision, and texts— are essential components which universally characterize world religious traditions. Confucianism is in this sense on a par with other world religions and it can be studied comparatively. The Confucian ching actually combine the connotations of the GrecoRoman Classics and the Christian Bible from a comparative, “scrip­ tural” perspective. The question of whether ching should be translated as scriptures or as classics is not important; that the term remains am­ biguous is itself suggestive. W hat is more significant is to understand how the Confucian ching have been received scripturally. To under­ stand what the Confucian ching are is to know what they have done in the Confucian tradition. The role and function the ching have assumed, as well as the power and influence they have exercised in the past m il­ lennia, are the keys to our understanding of the Confucian Classics. This way of perceiving the Confucian ching, against the tradition as an integrated whole, is also the way by which we explore Confucian reli­ giosity .6 Sm ith’s suggestions are indeed creative and stimulating. His pro­ posal of “scripture” as an important form and concept in the history of religion has opened up a new avenue for our rethinking sacred texts in different religious communities ,7 whatever titles these texts may be given. The inclusion of Confucianism and its ching into his discussion of “scripture” from a cross-cultural perspective, further, provides a new insight for our reevaluating this important tradition. His contributions will be the basis from which this paper starts its presentation.

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Some doubts still remain, however, especially with reference to the nature and history of the Confucian ching. In the first place, under the generic theme “scripture,” important concepts such as canon, interpre­ tation, community, and authority are intricately interconnected. How then did they appear and function to constitute the complex scriptural phenomena in Confucianism? How do we explain each one in relation to the others? Did each component m anifest itself as distinctively Chi­ nese or Confucian, or did it share similarities with its counterpart in other religious traditions? If, most significantly, the dualistic mode of thinking about the sacred versus the secular is not universally appli­ cable, how do we adopt a different interpretive framework by which to understand the Confucian chingl W hat follows is an attempt to answer these questions. For this pur­ pose, we propose to focus upon the scriptural phenomena in Han China for illustration. Han W u-ti’s canonization of the Five Classics, an ep­ och-making event that decidedly shaped Chinese scriptural and intel­ lectual traditions ,8will form the center of our discussion. By highlight­ ing the political dimension that underlies the Five Classics in their canonization process, we hope that issues linked to the Confucian ching can be further clarified. But in order to be faithful to the nature and transmission of the Five Classics, if we treat Sm ith’s concept of “cu­ mulative tradition ”9 seriously, we need to start from the pre-Han pe­ riod when these ancient texts began to exert an important role in the intellectual world.

n The Wu ching .£$§, Five Classics, or variously called Liu ching Liu i A ® (Six Arts), Liu shu T v® (Six Principles), and Liu hsiieh T'v'p (Six Learnings ) ,10were a commonly shared cultural property in ancient China. The origin of each of these texts is hard to trace and their respective authorships have remained unknown .11 That this anony­ mous literary corpus came to being in distant antiquity may have partly accounted for its highly respected status. Ancient Chinese, however, regarded the books as precious records intentionally bequeathed by sages of olden times to later generations for moral rectification and structuring of the socio-political order. K ’uang Heng [MUi (A- 74-7 b.c.e.), an eminent Confucian in the Former Han, once remarked, “I heard that the Liu ching were used by the sages to unify the mind of Heaven and Earth, make distinctions between good and evil, manifest

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differences between fortune and misfortune, [and] indicate the right path for humanity, lest humans violate their inborn [good] nature .”12 His view was representative of the general attitudes of the ancient Chi­ nese, and the belief in and reverence for the authority of the former sages contributed to the sacred aura surrounding the texts. Since the Five Classics were the sages’ purposeful creations, the texts were believed to contain tao, the Way. What the tao is exactly is difficult to pinpoint, but the ancient Chinese trusted that it existed and that it called for one’s relentless pursuit of it. The tao embodies the metaphysical principle by which nature runs its course; it is also the norm by which society regulates its order. It is ubiquitous and univer­ sally valid and yet it is hard to grasp. Sages of former days harbored the tao as their transcendent vision, but because they were not able to actualize it in the human realm, they transmitted it in the form of writ­ ten texts to posterity. Later learned generations, whatever intellectual inclinations they might have been associated with, all studied the Five Classics diligently before they became “disputers of the too .”13 It is with this understanding that the Five Classics were used as textbooks for aristocratic education. Since these sacred texts em bod­ ied the too, and to realize the too in the socio-political arena was part and parcel of a ruler’s responsibility, any aspirant to political power could not but acquaint him self with them. According to the Li chi fa fE , the Yiieh cheng ^ JE official in the Chou Dynasty (111 1-249 b .c .e .) was supposed to “inculcate the Shih , Shu H , Li $K, Yiieh ^ of the form er kings in the gentlemen; in the spring and autumn, he would teach them Li and Yiieh, [while] in the winter and summer, Shih and Shu.”14The / and Ch’un-ch’iu are not m entioned spe­ cifically, but other examples found in the pre-C h’in historiographies demonstrate that they were unm istakably included in the educational curriculum .15 Each text of the Six or Five Classics represented a specific field of training and therefore oriented the student to a certain aspect of human activity. To summarize, the Shih nurtured one’s affective faculty; the Shu imparted to the student the moral ideals of the sage-kings; the Li and Yiieh instructed the student in how to behave in a complicated, ritualized society; the Ch’un-ch’iu conveyed accounts of historical events full of moral lessons; the / provided metaphysical principles by which one explored the anthropo-cosmic relationship .16The Five Clas­ sics thus became the source from which ancient Chinese intellectuals drew their inspiration for self-perfection and communal engagement.

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As a whole they formed a general, overarching vision for those who delved into them. The Five Classics enabled the student to view life in a coherent way. Confucius saw the integral nature of these texts and so taught his dis­ ciples “the Shih, Shu, Li, [and] Yiieh” as an inseparable entity, as Ssuma Ch’ien the Grand Historian, testified .17 Many passages in the Analects Hfla also indicate that the M aster frequently used the Shih (1:15; 2:2; 3:8; 8:3) for pedagogical purposes; so were the Shu (7:18), Li, and Yiieh (3:3; 11:1) often referred to. The understanding and preservation of the holistic vision enshrined in the integrated an­ cient corpus were carried on in following generations. Into the period of the Warring States (403-222 b .c .e .), many documents described the Five Classics as a unitary whole while at the same time identifying salient attributes of each text. For example, the “T’ien-hsia” chap­ ter of the Chuang Tzu reads: As to that (wisdom) which is recorded in the Book o f Odes and Book o f Docu­ ments, the Rites and the Music, there are many gentlemen of Tsou and Lu, scholars of sash and official rank, who have an understanding of it. The Book o f Odes describes the will; the Book o f Documents describes events; the Rites speaks of conduct; the Music speaks of harmony; the Book o f Changes describes the yin and yang-, the Spring and Autumn Annals describe titles and differentiations.18

Parallel expressions with similar intents can be found in the Hsiin Tzu and the Li chi.19It is thus evident that before the Han Dynasty, a scriptural tradition which was composed of devoted participants as well as a transcendent vision had existed continuously. The tao of the sages and the cherished texts which embodied it lived among the committed scholars. Confucius, a giant figure in the formation of this scriptural tradi­ tion, deserves our special treatment. We noted that the Five Classics were the textbooks of the aristocratic education, which meant that they were circulated within the upper classes. The study of these ancient texts was in the true sense “official learning” (kuan-hsiieh as C h’ien Mu repeatedly emphasized ,20limited to the privileged few and aimed at officialdom. Confucius revolted against this monopoly of scrip­ tural knowledge and introduced the Five Classics to the wider popu­ lace. The Analects tells that he himself was never weary of learning (7:2), that he taught numerous students without considering their fam ­ ily backgrounds (15:39), and that he never denied instruction to any­ one so long as the student was able to offer him a bundle of dried meat as a tuition fee (7:7)! Confucius was thus credited with transmitting

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the ancient scriptural knowledge by turning it from “official learning” to “private \tammg" {ssu-hsiieh f j , ||) . His three thousand disciples were living testimonies to this Promethean feat .21 Although Confucius in the Analects claimed that he merely trans­ mitted the Five Classics and did not introduce any innovation (7:1), later generations were convinced that these ancient texts underwent his re-editing. It is exactly due to the M aster’s final touch that the sacrosanctity of the Five Classics was enhanced .22 Ssu-ma C h’ien, when writing Confucius’ biography, affirmed that the M aster improved the Shih, Shu, Li, and Yiieh, expounded the I, and innovated the Ch ’unch ’iuP This great act, in addition to his popularization of the Five Clas­ sics, merited the historian’s highest praise: “Confucius as a commoner has passed down [his teachings] for more than ten generations, and scholars have regarded him as their progenitor. From the emperor and nobility [down to the populace], those who discourse upon the Six Arts would converge upon the Master; he is indeed the most sagely m an !”24 Ssu-ma C h’ien was noting the fact that anyone who studied this an­ cient literary corpus would respectfully treat Confucius as the ultimate authority. In a similar tone, Pan Ku JJiO specified the intimate rela­ tionship between Confucius and the Five Classics: “ [He] expounded the Shu..., alluded to the Yiieh..., discoursed upon the Shih..., elabo­ rated upon the Li of C hou..., followed the Ch’un-ch’iu of L u... and for­ mulated his kingly rules.. .[and] enjoyed the /... and thereupon wrote its commentary .”25Pan Ku did not credit Confucius with authoring the Five Classics, but he highlighted the fact that Confucius immersed himself in these ancient texts and arguably facilitated their eventual completion. After Confucius came the formation of “private learning,” in con­ trast to “official le a rn in g .”26 Indeed he becam e a “fo u n d er o f discursivity,” to borrow Michel Foucault’s term, originating an impor­ tant discourse which opened up learning to many possible interpreta­ tions and applications .27 Later Chinese intellectuals would always re­ fer to Confucius the founder as the ultimate authority, but at the same time they would be expected to carry, expand, and even defend this scriptural tradition. The followers of Confucius henceforth possessed a two-fold identity. On the one hand, in line with their M aster’s profes­ sion, they were the custodians and transmitters of the Five Classics. W hatever their family and social background, they were supposed to be conversant with these texts as their intellectual foundation. On the other hand, they were pursuers and practitioners of the Way. Their life mission was to reassume the responsibility of materializing the tao in

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the human world, a noble task initiated by sages of the distant past and invigorated by and passed down from the Master. After Confucius there were further divisions of the scriptural tra­ dition. Han Fei Tzu I f # (d. 233 b .c .e .) observed that eight differ­ ent factions appeared immediately after C onfucius’ death. Each of them stressed different tenets and practices and yet each claim ed to be the genuine heir o f the M aster .28W hen the disciples of the first generation passed away, their respective successors would naturally carry the M aster’s teachings further away. M ore splits inevitably took place. It was thus universally recognized in the Han that, “after the death of Confucius, the subtle words have disappeared; after the death of the seventy disciples (most distinguished am ong the three thou­ sand disciples), the great Truth has deviated .”29 Parallel to and associated with these factional divisions was the ap­ pearance of different commentarial schools. Confucius in his lifetime wrote a commentary on the Book o f Changes, laying a good model for the coming successors. Some generations later, as the Han Shu M i r reports, “the [interpretation o f] the Ch’un-ch’iu was split into five, the [interpretation of ] the Shih, four, and the I had several commentarial traditions .”30Since different Confucians had different understandings of the Five Classics and there was no centralized authority that could be referred to, scholars were tempted to develop new discourses. This kind of scriptural phenomena later on widely spread until, in the Han, many more commentators, based upon one of the Five Classics, formed their own schools and generated their particular traditions to rival those of others.

m The brief description in the preceding section makes it clear that a scriptural tradition, originated in the ancient past and invigorated by Confucius, had a long history before the Han Dynasty. This tradition featured a fixed collection of canonical texts, a transcendent vision, and numerous committed participants. Those engaged in the scriptural activities were critically aware that the ancient sages were their author­ ity; it was the ancient sages who had imparted the tao into the sacred texts, the Five Classics, for them to pursue. They were also conscious of the fact that to study the Five Classics and then realize the tao in the human world was their life-long mission. This intellectual consensus was communally shared and sanctioned. W hen Confucius appeared

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and broadened the scriptural tradition with innovations, the time-hon­ ored vision still endured. Confucius was revered as a new authority, but he not only did not supersede the old one but actually brought it more vividly to the foreground. The scriptural tradition after Confucius marked a new stage of de­ velopment. Diverse philosophical groups, all beneficiaries of Confucius’ “private learning,” appeared to compete with one another. New phi­ losophers’ writings began to flourish, and vied for a sympathetic audi­ ence. Various commentarial schools, based upon one of the Five Clas­ sics, generated their own little traditions with variegated hermeneutic principles. The scriptural world hence became more active, pluralistic, and complex. In such a liberal atmosphere, scholars must have had a difficult time discerning the Confucian orthodoxy, if they intended to do so. However, the tacit understanding that the tao needed to be pur­ sued, that the Five Classics embodied this tao, and that Confucius was their respected authority remained constant. The new intellectual scene thus appeared to be innovative and traditional at the same time. The early part of the Former Han Dynasty (206 b .c .e . to 5 c .e .) saw the prevalence of Huang-Lao Taoism, a religio-philosophical syncre­ tism that combined Taoist elements with those of Legalism .31 Confu­ cianism and its ethico-moral ideals were not particularly appealing to the early Han rulers ;32 it remained just one of the many choices of intellectual trends. The Five Classics that had been studied and trans­ mitted by the Confucian school, though canonical for scholars dedi­ cated to them, did not reach universal prominence. With the coming of Han W u-ti’s reign (r. 141-87 b .c .e .), the situation changed dramati­ cally. Han Wu-ti ascended the throne when he was only seventeen. An ambitious, scheming, and pompous ruler, he inherited a strong empire from his forebears and yet still pursued an expansionist policy. Under his reign, Han China reached her zenith with respect to military strength, economic power, and social stability .33 M uch like his royal predeces­ sors, he was a syncretist, although he received some Confucian educa­ tion while an heir apparent .34According to Ssu-ma C h’ien, he was a man who “paid exceptional reverence to ghosts and deities .”35When nec­ essary, however, he would not hesitate to employ such Confucian virtues as jen (humaneness) and / f | (righteousness) for external display .36 In the first year of his reign, Han Wu-ti adopted the advice of two of his Confucian ministers, Chao Wan and Wang Tsang 3EM, and decided to dismiss those inclined to non-Confucian schools .37The plan

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was aborted because of strong opposition from the Huang-Lao Taoist camp, especially from his grandmother, the powerful Empress Dowa­ ger Tou Some time later, Tung Chung-shu 2 6 (ca. 179ca. 104 b .c .e .), the most distinguished Confucian scholar in the Former Han Dynasty, responded in a court examination to Han W u-ti’s edict on the philosophy of government with a strong statement: What the Ch'un-ch'iu [says about] “grand unification” is the constancy and norm of Heaven and Earth as well as the universal propriety of past and present. Nowa­ days the masters [of different schools teach] various ways; people [promulgate] different theories; the hundred schools [aver] diverse methods, with differing te­ nets. This is why the ruler does not have the means to unify, and the subject does not know what to adhere to because of the constant change of the laws. I here propose that those [theories] that are not included in the Six Arts of Confucius should be excluded from promotion; let them not be advanced. [When] the per­ verted sayings cease, the frame of order can be unified and the laws and measures can appear clearly. [In this way] people know what to follow.39

The emperor was much pleased with Tung’s sagacious proposal. W hen Tung further elaborated upon the idea of “upholding the Confucian school, demoting the [other] hundred schools, establishing school-of­ ficials, [and] recommending the mao-ts ’ai (excellent talents) and hsiao-lien (filially pious and incorrupt) [officials],” his sugges­ tion was well received .40 Han W u-ti’s understanding of Confucianism, one has to note, was by no means value-neutral. W hat attracted him about this school, as expounded by Tung, was its functional quality more than anything else. Such key words as “grand unification,” “constancy and norm,” “uni­ versal propriety,” “laws,” and “measures,” m ust have rung politically suggestive in his ears. The emperor did need a state ideology as well as a governing mechanism by which he could run the vast empire, and Confucianism appeared timely. In the fifth year of his reign (136 b .c .e .), he set up posts for the Academicians (po-shih elsewhere trans­ lated as erudites or scholars), specialists in the Five Classics .41 This sponsorship of Confucianism promoted the existing scriptural tradi­ tion to official status and at the same time excluded other systems of belief from official recognition, although non-Confucian beliefs were not strictly prohibited. Granting the Five Classics imperial sanction was a dramatic departure from the practice of the preceding rulers who had regarded them with little enthusiasm .42Han W u-ti’s conscious ef­ fort hence singled out Confucianism and the Five Classics and made them superior to other philosophical or religious traditions and their writings. Pan Ku later alluded to this event of “excluding [other] hun­

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dred schools and upholding the Six Classics (i.e., Five Classics),” and lauded it as a great accomplishment bequeathed to later generations .43 Han W u-ti’s scriptural involvement was politically motivated, and it was aimed at practical gains. We may adduce four reasons for this ar­ gument. First, his patronage of the Five Classics thwarted, if not extin­ guished, the development of other philosophical schools, which was a violation of the liberal intellectual atmosphere that had been flourish­ ing since the Warring States period. The government’s takeover of civil education was reminiscent of the monopolized “official learning” in former times. This dramatic reversal from “private learning” back to “official learning” helped the ruler unify the thoughts of his subjects, an objective spelled out in Tung Chung-shu’s proposal. The establish­ ment of the official posts for the Five Classics was thus intended to channel the scriptural activities in the desired direction. Second, because Han Wu-ti was launching the policy of “expansion and active initiatives,” as Michael Loewe pointed out, a huge number of government administrators were needed .44The emperor in 141 b .c .e ., the first year of his reign, issued a decree calling for recommendations of worthy men to assist him in government operation 45Two years after the Five Classics were made official (134 b .c .e .), he issued two edicts, also intended for the recruitment of officials. In his second edict, he specifically stated that those candidates, “knowledgeable in the tradi­ tion of the royal affairs of past and present, be examined by means of imperial decrees. They [then should] respond based upon the Classics and write [their answers] on bamboo strips which the emperor would personally review .”46Han Wu-ti in this way associated the Five Clas­ sics with his bureaucratic system which, in turn, supported his impe­ rial regime. The academics’ activities were thus brought to the service of politics. Third, as Confucians were specialized in or intimately linked to ritual performance 47both in the religious and social senses, Han Wu-ti was ea­ ger to employ them for this purpose. The emperor saw to it that the mlers should “constitute [laws] by following people’s [way of living,] and insti­ tute [rituals] by imitating [people’s] customs .”48He intended these rituals and ceremonies to be laws and patterns of behavior that could be observed by the ruled; to standardize customs and religious practices was therefore motivated by political consideration. If the Confucian scholars were able to compose ritual prescriptions by referring to the Five Classics 49to pro­ mote this literary corpus was much to his benefit. Fourth, by the time of Han W u-ti’s reign, the status of Confucius

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had grown to a degree that the emperor would be wise to deal with this fact. It is true that Confucianism was only one of the many competing schools in the early Han, and it did not even attract more followers than Taoism from among the ruling class. Because Confucius had com ­ manded wide respect from people of all ranks since the Warring States period, the Han imperial household dared not ignore his influence from its founding date .50Han Wu-ti’s elevation of Confucianism simply com­ plied with the popular feeling that was prevalent in the society. His catering to this popular sentiment, stemming from political consider­ ation, won him nothing but good repute. It is to be emphasized that the practice of “upholding Confucianism and demoting the other hundred schools” was most concretely m ani­ fested in the establishment of the posts for Academicians of the Five Classics. Han Wu-ti, however, did not choose these sacred texts from among many ancient ones and establish their orthodoxy. The Five Clas­ sics had been held scriptural, and hence canonical, in the Confucian community before the emperor made them official. The emperor’s can­ onization added political recognition to a status quo that had long ex­ isted. The political canonization was actually a process of selecting favorable commentarial schools attached to each of the Five Classics. According to Ssu-ma C h’ien’s “Ju-lin lieh-chuan” (Biog­ raphies of Confiicians) and Pan Ku’s “I-wen chih” (Treatise on bibliography), there were a number of commentarial traditions flour­ ishing under each of the Five Classics, a scriptural phenomenon result­ ing from the widespread “private learning.” W hen Han Wu-ti decided to set up chairs and select the right incumbents, elaborate consider­ ations must have been made. We do not know how the emperor went through the process of selection, but history tells us that not every commentarial school received equal treatment. Normally a particular commentarial school would be chosen and one of its masters assigned to the Academician post. This can be seen in the case of the school generated by Fu Sheng a master of the Book o f Documents.51 Other schools under this Classic but related to the Old Text version, however, did not receive imperial prom otion .52Often there were more than one commentarial tradition appointed to a particular Classic. The Book o f Odes, for example, had three Academician posts, representing three different commentarial schools: the Ch’i Shih the Lu Shih and the Han Shih These three had eminent founders and clear lines of transmission and were thus equally influential and pow­ erful .53For practical considerations, Han Wu-ti granted official recog­

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nition to all of them. Another, more dramatic, case was the selection between the Kung-yang school and the Ku-liang school of the Spring and Autumn Annals. These two commentarial traditions, among some others, were in keen competition for imperial sanction. In order to be fair in the public eye, Han Wu-ti had Tung Chung-shu and Chiang Kung renowned masters representing these two schools, debate before the imperial throne. The emperor finally selected Tung Chung-shu and his Kung-yang school into the national Academy, clearly showing his politically-motivated scriptural predilection, although his heir apparent was strenuously learning from both of these two schools .54 At any rate, when the posts of the Five Classics were first established, there were at least seven, rather than five, Academicians appointed .55 Han Wu-ti, by deciding on the desirable commentarial schools as well as suitable Academicians, exerted political influence in the trans­ mission of the Five Classics. His involvement consequently transformed the nature of scriptural activities and changed the course of scriptural development. Henceforth, Confucian students would concentrate more upon one Classic than upon the Five Classics as a whole. Further, they would be more interested in the commentaries than in the Classic per se. Still further, they would be very much concerned with the “right” commentarial school, because only the “correct” hermeneutic tradi­ tion and “orthodox” scriptural association would lead them to a suc­ cessful official career. The attraction of “emolument and gain ”(lu-li as Pan Ku candidly criticized ,56thus reigned supreme, and the Confucian Five Classics entered another new stage.

IV M odem scholars of religious studies, under the influence of the monotheistic “Book Religions,” tend to take “revelation” or “inspira­ tion” as the foremost defining feature of “scripture .”57Some even hold that a “scripture” m ust be “initiated, shared, written, and canonized through the collaborative efforts of [a religious] comm unity ”58or that it is “a canonization of immutable mythic words of any kind .”59 Our investigation of the Five Classics in the early history of China indi­ cates that these definitions do not match the Chinese case. The Five Classics, in the first place, did not come into existence through a con­ scious creating and grouping by a definite community. It is true that these sacred texts were treated with reverence, but they were not re­ lated to mythic stories and accordingly initiated and canonized by an­

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cient Chinese. They might contain some elements of myth, but they were believed to be primarily the former sages’ collective experiences touching “poetic, political, social, historical, [and] metaphysical” di­ m ensions .60 Predominantly mundane orientation, one would rather emphasize, characterizes their formation. The ancient Chinese treated them as sacred books because they were supposed to embody the tao, the transcendent, coherent vision. They served as practical guidance for those who studied them. If scriptures of world religions, such as the Torah and the Vinaya, have functioned as norms or laws for their re­ spective faithful observants ,61 the Five Classics share with them this important feature. The Five Classics had been scriptural and canonical among ancient Chinese intellectuals and later, more narrowly, in the Confucian com ­ munity before the Han Dynasty. Although historically consequential, Han W u-ti’s canonization of them by granting them lofty official status did not make them more scriptural. Being scriptural is always canoni­ cal, but not vice versa .62 Here we may follow the suggestion made by Gerald T. Sheppard and Kendall W. Folkert about the binary nature of “canon .”63 They pose the idea that “canon” can be divided into two levels, one referring to its normative and binding aspect (i.e., canonicity), the other referring to its final completion of standardization (i.e., canonization). The ancient Chinese scholars regarded the Five Clas­ sics as the canon, in the sense that they reached an intellectual consen­ sus that this scriptural corpus was their norm or rule. W hen Han Wu-ti canonized the Five Classics, he did not re-formulate them by adding a new text to or subtracting an old text from the original corpus. Rather, he first presupposed the canonicity of this fixed collection, and then he proceeded to canonize it, i.e., to make it official. The new element added, if we are to discern one, was political, not scriptural. At issue is how one interprets and understands authority. The anony­ mous sage-authors of the Five Classics, as well as Confucius the re­ dactor, were unmistakably the scriptural authorities to whom ancient Chinese paid their utmost respect. In other words, it was owing to these sagely figures that the Five Classics became authoritative. This scrip­ tural feature focusing upon authorship was prevalent and important, as it also fell upon some other ancient texts such as the Analects and the Hsiao ching (Book on Filial Piety). These two were sacred texts and highly influential in ancient China because of their alleged author, Confucius. Although they were not part of the imperially sanctioned Classics, they commanded wide respect from people of all walks of

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life .64Scriptures were thus always authoritative. Han W u-ti’s canoni­ zation of the Five Classics, by contrast, brought a very different kind of authority to this literary corpus. His political touch on these sacred texts did not contribute to their unicity, as would happen in most world religions .65It rather departmentalized the integrated corpus by singling out each Classic with its specific commentarial school(s). Authority hence shifted from the Five Classics as a whole to one of them; it fur­ ther shifted from a particular ching to its commentaries. The emperor’s attempt to attribute political authority to the ancient texts did make them highly authoritative, but the new authoritative texts were no longer the original sacred texts .66 There is no denying that Han Wu-ti created a new order through the canonization of the Five Classics. The sacred texts here became instru­ mental to the political end. But it would be far-fetched to say that the emperor used a body of non-sacred texts to replace or rival the original sacred texts. Neither is it true that antagonism occurred between the secular authority and the religious or scriptural authority .67 What is more appropriate and nearer to the historical fact is that because of him, a great body of secondary texts, i.e., commentaries, ensued. Nomi­ nally the Five Classics, the primary texts, still assumed the highest authority, but as a result of the political intervention, their commentar­ ies commanded wide devotion from students of scriptural learning. By studying the commentaries, generated by the masters of the Classics, the student found a clearer and more direct, if not easier, way to the scriptural world .68The masters thus assumed a new authority, repre­ senting Confucius and the ancient sages. (This kind of master-disciple relationship based upon hermeneutic activities appeared quite similar to that of Rabbinic Judaism .)69Han W u-ti’s political authority there­ fore facilitated the spread and transmission of the Confucian Classics, an unintended consequence Confucius might not have liked to see. The interpretation of authority described above seems to imply two different communities in the early Han, one linked to the Confucians and the other associated with Han Wu-ti and his ruling class. We men­ tioned that the Confucians had a long scriptural tradition, cherished a shared ideal, and committed themselves to realizing that ideal in the human world. They saw themselves “as part of a larger structure, plan, or purpose, one that transcends the immediate or basic needs of hu­ manity,” as George Weckman put it .70Based upon this communal con­ sensus, they came together as a distinct group. The world of Han Wuti, by comparison, had its own objectives as well as principles o f

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operation. What his grandson, the future Em peror Hsiian (r. 74-49 b .c .e .), frankly admitted was fitting and revealing: The Han [imperial] household has its own system which has mixed the kingly way with that of [brutal] force since its founding date. Why should we purely rely upon the teaching of virtue and follow the policy of the Chou Dynasty (i.e., the time when the sage-kings were allegedly in power)? Besides, the ordinary Confucians are ignorant of timely expedients and love to criticize the present time with the past, confusing people with names and realities. They do not know what to adhere to, [and so] why are they worthy of our trust?71

The ruling community in this way could best be characterized as thisworld oriented, pragmatic, and even Machiavellian. Oddly enough, although qualitatively different, the C onfucian com m unity and the political world were not in direct confrontation. They rather coexisted, overlapped, and com plem ented each other. W hat scholars of religion in the W est w ould norm ally employ as a m ode o f explanation, i.e., the secular versus the sacred, does not accord with the general scriptural phenom ena in Han China. The gist o f the m atter lies in the fact that the Confucian com m unity did not reject this world as such. The ultim ate fulfillm ent of the C onfu­ cian ideal, no m atter how transcendent it m ight be, should find its expression in the hum an world, and there was no m ore suitable place than the socio-political arena. For Han Confucians, the understand­ ing o f “m astering the Classics in order to reach practice” ( t ’ungching chih-yung was deep-rooted .72Han W u-ti’s canoni­ zation o f the Five C lassics with a political m echanism was not necessarily repellent to C onfucian self-understanding. It rather helped the C onfucian ideal m ove closer to its com pletion. W ith the selection o f the A cadem icians and th eir specific com m entarial schools, students o f scriptural learning found two paths clearly ac­ cessible: one leading to the tao via com m entary, the other to the actualization o f this tao via officialdom . Han W u-ti’s political in­ volvem ent in the scriptural world thus restricted as well as expanded the C onfucian tradition. V We began with Wilfred C. Sm ith’s proposal that the Chinese ching or Classics could be discussed under the generic category “scripture” from a broad perspective of world religions. “Scripture” implies a dy­ namic relationship between a community of faith and a text or texts,

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Smith affirms, and its significance lies in the human agents who make this relationship possible. A scriptural tradition always sees its partici­ pants interacting with their transcendent vision through the text or texts. A text becomes sacred or scriptural exactly because it embodies a tran­ scendent vision. To talk about the meaning of the Chinese Classics, one therefore has to observe how these ancient texts exhibited their scriptural quality in the process of their transmission. In order to view the Chinese scriptural tradition in a continuous way, the paper adopted a historical approach, tracing its developm ent from distant antiquity down to the Han Dynasty. For the purpose of showing the distinct features of the Chinese scriptures, our presenta­ tion focused upon the event of Han W u-ti’s canonization of the Five Classics. We found that before the Han, the Chinese scriptural tradi­ tion, which possessed a fixed collection of sacred texts, the tao, and com m itted participants, had long existed. It was initiated by ancient sages and further developed by Confucius. Ancient Chinese intellec­ tuals devoted themselves to the study of this integrated corpus, and regarded the transm ission of these texts and the realization of the tao therein as their ultim ate concern. Han W u-ti’s canonization of the Five Classics did not alter their composition, but its emphasis on each of the Classics and their specific commentarial schools, all under prag­ matic, political considerations, did transform the nature of the Confucian scriptural tradition. It is in this historical context and understanding that we discerned two types of authority and community, one scriptural, the other po­ litic a l. The C onfucian com m unity, w ith the ancient sages and Confucius as its authority, encountered the ruling authority and its state mechanism when Han W u-ti canonized the Five Classics. These two camps, however, did not represent the secular in confrontation with the sacred and generate an irreconcilable tension, as most world religions have experienced. They rather co-existed and m utually in­ fluenced each other: the em peror created a new scriptural world for political purposes and the Confucian scholars, accepting the new scrip­ tural development, entered into service in the bureaucratic system. This paper concluded with the observation that as far as the transm is­ sion of the Five Classics is concerned, the Confucian self-understand­ ing of actualizing the tao in the m undane world found its ultim ate point of fulfillm ent in Han W u-ti’s canonization agenda. In this sense, the em peror’s political involvement brought a new dimension to the

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Confucian scriptural tradition, and this political dim ension has stood as a peculiar feature ever since.

Notes Some noted examples are Rodney L. Taylor, The Religious Dimensions o f Con­ fucianism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990); John B. Henderson, Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison o f Confucian and Western Exegesis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991); Steven Van Zoeren, Po­ etry and Personality: Reading, Exegesis, and Hermeneutics in Traditional China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991). 2. Wilfred C. Smith, What Is Scripture? A Comparative Approach (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 176-177. 3. Ibid., 18, 183,239. 4. William A. Graham also subscribes to this view and makes an extensive explana­ tion of it; see his “Scripture,” in The Encyclopedia o f Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1987), 13:134; also by Graham, Beyond the Written Word: Oral Aspects o f Scripture in the History o f Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 5-6. 5. Wilfred C. Smith, What Is Scripture?, 177-178. 6. For a more detailed exposition, one can refer to “The Classics: Chinese and Western,” in What Is Scripture?, 176-195. In addition, another good reference is Sm ith’s “The True M eaning of Scripture: An Em pirical H istorian’s Nonreductionist Interpretation of the Qu’ran, “ IJMES, 11 (1980), 487-505. 7. Some scholars of religious studies have followed Smith’s insights, published in his earlier writings, and begun to explore the meaning of “scripture” from a comparative perspective, although the Confucian scriptures have not sufficiently been touched upon; see Miriam Levering, ed., Rethinking Scripture: Essays from a Comparative Perspective (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989). 8. For a general description of the historical background in which this event took place, see Michael Loewe, “The Former Han Dynasty,” in The Cambridge His­ tory o f China, vol. 1, ed. Denis Twitchett and Michael Loewe (Cambridge: Cam­ bridge University Press, 1986), esp. 152-173; Ch’ien Mu, Ch’in-han shih (Taipei: Tung-ta, 1987), 74-122; Wang Yii-ch’iian, “An Outline of the Central Govern­ ment of the Former Han Dynasty,” Harvard Journal o f Asiatic Studies, 12:1-2 (1949), 134-187. 9. This is an important term Smith coins to designate the historical continuity in which human beings, as homo religiosus, manifest their faith. For scholars of religious studies, it is essential to trace human religious activities downward, rather than upward, in the “cumulative tradition” in order to find how a commu­ nity of faith expresses its religiosity; see Smith, The Meaning and End o f Reli­ gion (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1978), 154-169. 10. The six ancient texts refer to Shih §# (Book o f Odes), Shu I f (Book o f Docu­ ments), Li fljf (Rites), Yiieh ^ (Music), I Jg (Book o f Changes), and Ch’unch’iu (Spring and Autumn Annals). During the transmission of this literary corpus, the Music text was lost. In the early Former Han Dynasty, many scholars still retained the customary title “six,” although there were actually only five. For a more detailed explanation, see my doctoral thesis, “C/img and Chuan: Towards Defining the Confucian Scriptures in Han China (206 b .c .e . - 220 c.E.),” (Harvard University, 1992), 58-62. 11. For a more extensive discussion of this issue, see Liu Shih-p’ei, Ching-hsUeh 1.

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12. 13.

14. 15. 16.

17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28.

Classics and Interpretations chiao-k’o-shu, “Ti-ssu-k’o,” in Liu Shen-shu hsien-sheng i-shu, ed. Cheng Yiifu (Wu-ning nan-shih edition, 1934-1936), 66:3; Ma Tsung-huo, Chung-kuo ching-hsiieh-shih (Shanghai: Shang-hai shu-tian, 1984, reprint of 1937 edition), 1-2; Hiraoka Takeo, Keisho no seiritsu (Kyoto: Sobunsha, 1983), 42-44. Pan KuSJEl, Han shu jHU (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1962), 81:3343. This work is hereafter abbreviated HS. The phrase is derived from A. C. Graham’s famous book title, Disputers o f the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China (La Salle: Open Court, 1989). It is interesting to note that when Chu Hsi (1130-1200) was trying to re-formulate the Confucian canon by replacing the Five Classics with the Four Books, he upheld the reason that the later literary corpus also embodied the Way; see Daniel K. Gardner, Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsiieh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confu­ cian Canon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986), 4. Li-chi chu-shu, in Shih-san-ching chu-shu, 8 vols., ed. Juan Yuan (Taipei: I-wen yin-shu-kuan, 1985, reprint of Nan-ch’ang fu-hsueh edition, 1815), vol. 5, 13 (“Wang chih”):2a. One can draw other examples from the Kuo yii §§ §§, 17 (“Ch’u yii shang”) and the Tso chuan 42 (“Chao-kung er-nien”). An excellent modem exposition of the Five Classics with reference to different aspects of life can be found in Tu Wei-ming, The Way, Learning and Politics in Classical Confucian Humanism (Singapore: The Institute of East Asian Philoso­ phies, 1985), 5-10. Ssu-ma Ch’ien, Shih chi (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1982), 47:1938. This work is hereafter abbreviated SC. Wang Hsien-ch’ien, Chuang Tzu chi-chieh in Chu-tzu chi-ch’eng, (Shanghai: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1954), 33 (“T ’ien-hsia”):216. I follow Burton Watson’s translation with minor modifications; see his The Complete Works o f Chuang Tzu (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968), 363. Wang Hsien-ch’ien, Hsiin Tzu chi-chieh in Chung-kuo ssu-hsiang ming-chu, 12 vols., ed. Yang Chia-lo (Taipei: Shih-chieh shu-chii, 1959), vol. 1, 1 (“Ch’uan hsiieh”):7. Li chi chu-shu, 50 (“Ching chieh”):la-b. Ch’ien Mu, “K’ung Tzu yii ch’un-ch’iu,” in his Liang Han ching-hsiieh chin-kuwen p ’ing-i (Taipei:Tung-ta t’u-shu, 1971), 247-248. SC, 47:1938. Morohashi Tetsuji, Keigaku kenkyu josetsu, in Morohashi Tetsuji chosakushu, 10 vols., ed. KamataTadashi and YoneyamaTorataro (Tokyo: Daishukan shokan, 1976), 2:32 SC, 47:1914,1937, 1943. SC, 47:1947. HS, 88:3589. Pan Ku, after describing the major tenets and writings of the ten philosophical schools in the pre-Ch’in period, concludes, “Now each of the different schools promulgated its strengths, exhausting its knowledge and pursuing its concerns in order to make clear its aims. (These schools) might have shortcomings, but, juxtaposing their essential doctrines and conclusions, (one finds that) they were the branches and offspring of the Six Arts.” See HS, 30:1746. This remark points out that the intellectual flourishing after Confucius was made possible by virtue of the Master’s promulgation of the Five Classics, i.e., “private learning.” See Michel Foucault, ‘W hat Is an Author?” in The Foucault Reader, ed. Paul Rabinow (New York: Pantheon Books, 1984), 101-120. Wang Hsien-shen, Han Fei Tzu chi-chieh in Chu-tzu chi-cWeng, 50 (“Hsien hsueh”):351.

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29. HS, 30:1701. 30. Ibid. 31. For the content of Huang-Lao Taoism, see Yen-zen Tsai, “Ching and Chuan: Towards Defining the Confucian Scriptures in Han China (206 b .c .e .-220 c.e .),” 33-37. For a discussion of the relationship between the early Former Han and Taoist philosophy, see Hu Shih, “The Establishment of Confucianism as a State Religion during the Han Dynasty,” in Journal o f North China Branch o f the Royal Asiatic Society, LX (1929), 20-23; John K Shryock, The Origin and De­ velopment o f the State Cult o f Confucius (New York and London: The Century Co., 1932), 28-30. 32. These include the founder of the Han Dynasty, Emperor Kao (r. 202-195 b.c .e .), Emperor Hui (r. 195-188 b .c .e .), Empress Lu (r. 188-180 b .c .e .), Emperor Wen (r. 180-157 b .c .e .), Emperor Ching (r. 157-141 b.c .e .), and Emperor Wu or Han Wu-ti (r. 141-87 b .c .e .). 33. For a short background description of Han Wu-ti’s reign, see Ch’ien Mu, Ch ’in Han shih (Taipei: Tung-ta t’u-shu, 1957), 74-149; Lii Ssu-mien, Ch’in Han shih (Shanghai: Ku-chi ch’u-pan-she, 1977, reprint of Shangwu edition, 1935), 101133. 34. Ch’ien Mu, Ch’in Han shih, 79. 35. SC, 28:1384. 36. Chi An g ® , a high minister at Han Wu-ti’s court, once bluntly pointed out the Emperor’s seemingly hypocritical attitude and thus caused his great embarrass­ ment and displeasure; see SC, 120:3106; HS, 50:2317. 37. HS, 6:155-156. 38. SC, 12:452; 107:2843. 39. HS, 56:2523. 40. HS, 56:2525. 41. HS, 6:159; 7A:726. 42. Emperor Wen once established one academician post for the Shih, and his son Emperor Ching further set up another post for the Ch ’un-ch ’iu\ see SC, 121:31203122, 3124, 3127-3128; HS, 88:3608, 3612-3613, 3615. 43. HS, 6:212. 44. Michael Loewe, “The Former Han Dynasty,” in The Cambridge History o f China, 1:152. 45. HS, 6:155-156. 46. HS, 6:160-161. 47. A famous example is Shu-sun T ’ung, who helped Emperor Kao institute a code of etiquette for the courtiers on the basis of “ancient rituals and ceremonies of the Ch’in.” He also designed rituals of many kinds for the succeeding Emperor Hui; SC:2722, 2725-2726. 48. SC, 23:1160-1161. 49. Emperor Wen once asked some Confucian scholars to discourse on the rituals of imperial worship; the latter immediately derived their information from the Five Classics and composed a book of ritual prescriptions; SC, 28:1382. 50. Emperor Kao once paid his homage at the Master’s temple in 195 b .c .e .; HS, 1B:76. Henceforth, according to Ssu-ma Ch’ien, “marquises and court minis­ ters would arrive (at the temple) and pay their reverence before they engaged in political activities”; SC, 47:1946. 51. SC, 121:3124-3125. 52. HS, 30:1706. 53. SC, 121:3120-3124. 54. HS, 88:3617. Court debates centering around the legitimating of the different

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55.

56. 57.

58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67.

68.

69.

Classics and Interpretations commentarial schools of the Spring and Autumn Annals continued into subse­ quent generations; they formed a very intriguing scriptural phenomenon in the Han Dynasty; see Yen-zen Tsai, “Ching and Chuan: Towards Defining the Confucian Scriptures in Han China (206 b .c .e .-220 c.e .),” 192-203. SC, 121:3118. For a more detailed explanation of the appointment of the Acade­ micians, see Ch’ien Mu, Ch’in Han shih, 80; Huang Chang-chien, Ching chinku wen-hsiieh wen-t’i hsin-lun (Taipei: Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, 1982), 132. HS, 88:3620. Ninian Smart and Richard D. Decht, ed, Sacred Texts o f the World: A Universal Anthology (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1982), xi; James G. Wil­ liams, “Scripture,” in Introduction to the Study o f Religion, ed. William T. Hall (New York: Harper & Row, 1987), 85; William C. Tremmel, Religion: What Is It? (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1976), 100. Kenneth Kramer, World Scriptures: An Introduction to Comparative Religions (New York and Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1986), 6. William E. Paden, Religious Worlds: The Comparative Study o f Religion (Bos­ ton: Beacon Press, 1988), 80. Tu Wei-ming, The Way, Learning and Politics in Classical Confucian Human­ ism, 6. Ninian Smart and Richard D. Decht, ed., Sacred Texts of the World: A Universal Anthology, xiii. This is in direct opposition to James G. Williams’ claim that “canon is always scripture; scripture is not always canon;” see his “Scripture,” 86. See Gerald T. Sheppard, “Canon,” in The Encyclopedia o f Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade, vol. 3; Kendall W. Folkert, “The ‘Canon’ of Scripture,” in Rethinking Scripture, ed. Mariam Levering. For a detailed treatment of these two texts, see my thesis, “Ching and Chuan: Towards Defining the Confucian Scriptures in Han China (206 b .c .e.-220 c .e .),” chapters six and seven. William A. Graham listed uni city as one of the “characteristic attributes of scrip­ ture” in world religions; see his “Scripture,” 141-142. I derived the idea that authoritative texts are not sacred texts from Paul Ricoeur’s seminal article “The ‘Sacred’ Text and the Community,” in The Critical Study of Sacred Texts, ed. Wendy D. O’Flaherty (Berkeley: Berkeley Religious Studies Series, 1979), 271-276. The tension between religious and secular authorities is universal in the founded religions, but it seems that the situation does not apply to the case here pre­ sented. For a discussion of authority in the context of world religions, see Manabu Waida, “Authority,” in The Encyclopedia o f Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1987), vol. 2, esp. pp. 5-6. Actually it became an unwieldy and cumbersome job for the student to devote himself entirely to textual exegesis. Pan Ku vehemently criticized those changchii students, i.e., students who immersed themselves in “chapter and verse,” saying that, “by glib words and ingenious interpretations they destroy the es­ sence of the Classics. Their exposition of a five-word text runs to twenty or thirty thousand words, to be rapidly superseded by others. In this manner one who in his youth adheres to one Classic is only able to discourse upon it when his hair has turned gray;” HS, 30:1723. I adopt Robert P. Kramer’s translation with my stylistic modification; see The Cambridge History o f China, 1:758. For a cogent introduction to the Rabbinic tradition, see Jacob Neusner, Midrash in Context: Exegesis in Formative Judaism (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), 1-20.

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70. George Weckman, “Community,” in The Encyclopedia o f Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1987), 3:567. 71. HS, 9:277. 72. Ch’ien Mu, Kung Tzu chuan (Taipei: Tung-ta t’u-shu, 1987), preface, 2-3.

6 Messenger of the Ancient Sages: Song-Ming Confucian Hermeneutics of the Canonical and the Heretical Thomas A. Wilson

Comparative Hermeneutics O n the very same day of his birth, Hermes, bastard son of Zeus and the nymph Maia, was said to have stolen fifty of the fattest cows from Apollo’s sacred herd. This athletic prankster god of the Greek pan­ theon was at various times associated with storms and the wind, and was worshipped by travelers and merchants.1But it is because Hermes was credited by the Greeks with the discovery of language, and be­ cause of his critical role as intermediary between Zeus and mortals that, as early as Plato, his name became the root of the noun “interpre­ tation” (hermeneia), and was eventually invoked to christen the disci­ pline of textual interpretation called hermeneutics (Palmer 1969,12-13). With winged feet, bounding “over the waters of the sea and over the boundless land, swift as the blasts of the wind,” Hermes carried the words of Zeus, transmuting the unintelligible into a form within hu­ man comprehension, and thus became known as the messenger of the gods (Homer 1995, 1: bk. 5, 185; Guirand 1989, 124). As I try to suggest in my paper title “Messenger of the Ancient Sages,” there are some important comparative concerns we should consider before focusing on hermeneutic traditions in Chinese culture. The most basic question, it seems to me, is how does the phenomenon of under107

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standing differ in Western and Chinese hermeneutic theories? How appropriate is this image of a bearer of sacred signs descending from above to deliver the gods’ pronouncements to humans below in the signification of the act understanding in Chinese hermeneutics? Taken figuratively, Hermes’s flight suggests vertical descent in the flow of human apprehension of sacred meaning delivered from above, later signifying divine inspiration central to Christian notions of how the Bible is read and understood. This verticality may aptly represent how an ancient Chinese king divined the will of the Lord on High in Shang times (see Chang 1983, 33-55), but it seems anachronistic as a way of figuring how Song-Ming Confucians conceptualized human understand­ ing of the ancient sages. By Song times Confucians tended to construe the process of apprehending sacred signs as a linear transmission of the Truth received from doctrinal progenitors within a lineage of sages and worthies. Western gods lived long before mortals, but were, as immortals, also coeval with them. Moreover, the ultimate source or inspiration of holy meaning in the Christian canon is a transcendent God, whereas Confucian Truth was first articulated by human sages who lived in the remote past. The most elemental problem in the herme­ neutic project of all post-classical Confucians was overcoming the gap­ ing hiatus separating the ancient sages from their own day. How the nature of this hiatus was perceived, as well as its solution, as we shall see, differed significantly in the hermeneutic regimes of Han and SongM ing Confucian exegetes. The function of transmuting the unintelli­ gible into a form within human comprehension in Biblical hermeneutics is rare in Confucian herm eneutics .2 W hile recognizing that the act of understanding the sacred is cultur­ ally relative, there are several striking similarities that shed light on the nature and cultural circumstance of hermeneutics in China and the West. (I shall resist, therefore, the sinologist’s disinclination to compare China with other, particularly European, cultures on the often stated grounds that Chinese culture is unique.) Both Biblical and Confucian herme­ neutics, as rules of interpreting canonical texts, are historically linked to strident disagreement over sacred meanings (Bleicher 1980, 11; Henderson 1991,66-67). Hermeneutics was often a dissident response aimed at widening access to sacred meanings in the face of establishmentarian controls by doctrinal regimes to limit canonical interpreta­ tion. One of the major controversies in the Reformation was the right of lay church members to interpret the Holy Scriptures, a claim advo­ cated by the Lutherans who promoted vernacular translations of the

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Bible over the more esoteric Latinate. What was at stake in the Lutheran challenge was Rom e’s claim that scriptural interpretation was the privi­ leged domain of establishmentarian authorities, particularly the Pope and councilor bishops. This claim rested on the notion that dogma (i.e., the body of doctrines formally proclaim ed as authoritative by the Church) was approved by Church councils on the basis of the authority of the Holy Scriptures and Apostolic Traditions. The apparently recent claim of authoritative parity of Scripture and Tradition was repeatedly debated in the early sessions of the Council of Trent (1545-63). One bishop remarked, “To put Scripture and Tradition on the same level is ungodly”(quoted in Jedin 1958, 2:86). Recognizing the need for an alternative source of authority in cases where the meaning of the Holy W rit was unclear, the Council eventually affirmed this doctrine, saying the “unwritten traditions which the Apostles received from C hrist’s own lips or which, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, were passed down to us hand to hand and preserved in the Catholic Church by an unbroken succession of the m inistry... was due the same loving adhe­ sion” as the Holy Scriptures .3The practical effect of this pronounce­ ment was at least partially anti-hermeneutical for it literally and firmly placed sacred meaning into the hands of councilor authorities beyond the grasp of lay readers. In the decades after Trent, according to Wilhelm Dilthey (1833-1911), the Lutheran theologian Matthias Flacius (1520-75) formulated basic hermeneutic principles to elucidate the Bible. Flacius’s “grammatical” approach to reading was based on the principle that an individual pas­ sage must be interpreted in terms of the aim and composition of the work as a whole and the other parts (Dilthey 1976, 253-54). Yet, Josef Bleicher points out that Flacius’ attempt to loosen Rom e’s monopoly over sacred meaning by proposing a hermeneutic method based on the principle that the meaning of any one scriptural fragment must be con­ sonant with the meaning of the whole presupposed a unity of the Bible that engendered its own kind of dogmatism (Bleicher 1980,12). M ore­ over, Flacius’ reduction of the meaning of the whole to the meaning of any and all parts of the scriptures shared with his Papal opponents an underlying assumption that Holy W rit was ultimately unitary because of its reputed singular authorship. This monotheistic authorship autho­ rizes a nearly complete unity in scriptural meaning claimed by Rome that was more problematic in the Confucian tradition, in which the canon was written by multiple authors .4The singularity of the Bible’s intended meaning was subjected to closer scrutiny in the late eigh­

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teenth century by German theologians based on the recognition that the various books of the Bible, however sacred its provenance, were written by human authors (Dilthey 1976, 254-55). The absence of an overarching m onotheism notwithstanding, Confucian hermeneutics shares with Christian hermeneutics the basic aim of recovering the founding intentions of a canonical text’s author(s). Both require pious readers who open their minds to the author’s original intended meaning and willingly apply it in their own lives and expect the same of others. Monotheism imposes particular epistemological circumstances that distinguish Christian and Confucian hermeneutics in fundamental ways. Edward C h’ien argues, furthermore, that Confucian and Christian (spe­ cifically Catholic) orthodoxies are not comparable because the former “lackfs] an institutional center as the privileged authority.” Replying to Paul Cohen’s assessment that post-medieval Europe was more plural­ istic than late imperial China, C h’ien argues that Cohen underestimates the intellectual diversity of the latter .5Yet reading canonical texts was institutionally regulated (as distinct from controlled) in both traditions. As early as the Song, there were indeed institutionally based procla­ mations on orthodoxy and heterodoxy in China, although they were expressed differently than in the West. The curriculum of the civil ser­ vice examination system was contested by educated people and regu­ lated by the court, particularly as a degree’s translatability into political power grew during late imperial times. By the fifteenth century, a nar­ row Cheng-Zhu rendering of Confucianism was unambiguously can­ onized as the basis of the examination curriculum. Moreover, court discussion on the enshrinement of Confucians in the Kong temple, as well as debates on their ranking within an ideological hierarchy, was also a critical mode by which the court pronounced an orthodoxy (Wil­ son 1995, 35-69). At the same time, it should be pointed out that the consequences of divergence from this orthodoxy to life and limb tended not to be as fatal in China as in the West. By Ming-Qing times, the dominant hermeneutical regime was char­ acterized by the selective adaptation of Zhu X i’s writings and his con­ ception of the true Confucian tradition of the recent past (signified by the notion of Daotong). This construction of Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy was propagated in reading practices, educational institutions, and the civil service examination system. This persistently sectarian Zhu Xi was fashioned out of his writings no later than Li Jingde’s (fl. 1270) selection of Z hu’s writings in Zhuzi yulei (Master Z hu’s categorized conversations) and formally institutionalized in the Xingli daquan (Great

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Collection on nature and principle). This imperial edition of ChengZhu writings, completed in 1415, served to define the content of the examination curriculum during most of the M ing-Qing era (Qiu 1988; Tang 1989; Wilson 1995,151-67). The dominance of this reading regime does not preclude the exist­ ence of dissident interpretive strategies, for Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy was not a monolith; not everyone produced by it adhered to it with equal fervor or allegiance, or in the same way .6A hermeneutic explication of Zhu X i’s method of reading will be put aside here, and I will focus on what I believe was the official reading formation that redeployed Zhu’s writings to articulate an exclusionary ideology .7It is possible to argue that such a reading ran contrary to Zhu’s explicitly stated suspicion of claims to canonical authority attributable to what was, in his day, the dominant commentarial tradition, that of the Han and Tang exegetes. Although Zhu Xi at times seems to have advocated direct reading of the canon without use of any commentaries, he was not opposed to using commentaries as such (Gardner 1991,47-48; c.f. Van Zoeren 1991, 239-40). Rather, he opposed use of Han-Tang commentaries in particu­ lar, because they failed to penetrate to the real meaning of the classics. Cheng-Zhu Hermeneutics Reading was central to Zhu X i’s conception of learning. Its impor­ tance to the moral transformation of the self necessitated that reading was more than an empiricist accumulation of facts for its own sake (deBary 1989, 196). For Zhu Xi, reading was a complex act that pro­ vided the foundation for insight into understanding the principles (/*) that permeated the universe (Gardner 1990, 38,41). Drawing from the chapters on reading (du shufa ) in Zhuzi yulei, Steven Van Zoeren elabo­ rates on what he calls Zhu’s three-part hermeneutic program (see also Qian 1970, 1:161-62, 3:613-87; Gardner 1990, 38-56). The first part urges students to resist what Van Zoeren calls a “modernist” craving to read many books, and concentrate their undivided attention on a smaller, more manageable curriculum; to read each book “deeply” in order to fully “penetrate to the bottom” of the text and recite what they have read until thoroughly familiar with its contents (Van Zoeren 1991,23138). As Daniel Gardner makes clear, however, the purpose of reading for Zhu Xi was not merely to apprehend textual meaning as an antidote to an allegedly “m odem ” reading that merely floats along the surface of texts. The purpose of reading was to apprehend Truth through un­

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derstanding the principles (yili) as the intentions of the sages. Z hu’s goal in reading, according to Daniel Gardner, was to realize that “the principle in things and the principle in man was identical with his na­ ture, apprehending principle either in things or in oneself was nothing but self-realization.” The very first passage in the official Ming anthol­ ogy Xingli daquan in the section on reading (which, as in Zhuzi yulei, is called du shufa), quotes one of the Cheng masters as saying, “Read­ ing books begins with the exhaustive investigation of principles and applying them. Today, there are those who get their minds stuck in doltish and useless paragraphs and words. This is the great error of learning” (Hu 1415,53.1a). If one’s will is properly fixed, Gardner con­ tinues, after numerable readings of a text, the “principles in the text” will finally “awaken fully the principle in the reader’s minds,” at which point “text and reader truly become inseparable” (Gardner 1990, 5354). Zhu’s position on reading, therefore, is perhaps better understood as a rebuttal to Han-Tang exegesis based on the analysis of lexical mean­ ings through surface readings of the canon, premised on the belief that the sages’ meaning was recoverable by apprehending the literal mean­ ing of their words as recorded in the canon. In doing so, Zhu Xi main­ tained, Han-Tang exegetes failed to peel away layers of the text to retrieve its inner essence defined by the principles that lay behind the words of the canon but was not fully realized within the text. Whereas Han-Tang exegetes assumed the sages’ meaning was fully articulated in the text, Zhu X i’s hermeneutics was aimed at apprehending a truth that was, at least in part, meta-textual (Ch’ien 1986, 184- 85; Wilson 1995, 83-85). In the second part of his program of reading, according to Steven Van Zoeren, Zhu Xi exhorts his students to experientially understand the text with their whole person and apply its meaning in their own lives. Experiential understanding of a text is possible only by voiding the mind (xuxin) of preconceptions about its meaning shaped largely by received exegetical traditions.8This account assumes, however, that the mind as the reading subject is an unambiguous signifier in Zhu’s writings, that it has but one meaning. Edward C h’ien has argued that it is possible to identify at least two different kinds of subjectivities that read in the writings of Zhu Xi. The self identified as the M ind of Dao ( Daoxin), the sages’ mind that has become identical with nature, which, because it has already realized its inner potential, does not read as a means toward some future moral transformation. Zhu Xi repeatedly warned against the dangers of basing moral practice on the assumption

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that one has fully realized this innate potential (Wilson 1995,212-13); indeed, Zhu’s entire program was premised on the belief that students read as subjects guided by the morally precarious human mind ( ). According to Matthew Levey, the human mind “engages not in conver­ sation or dialogue, but in a monologue with the text. Such a reader [Zhu says,] ‘does not allow the ancients to open their mouths.’” It is not that the human mind is ontologically or cognitively incapable of understanding the sages’ meaning, Zhu Xi maintains, but that its judg­ ment tends to be clouded by empty theories, and thus must begin the process of self-transformation with book reading (Levey 1992, 45255). If it has properly fixed its will, Edward C h’ien continues, the read­ ing su b je c t as th e h um an m ind aim s at an e v e n tu a l m o ra l self-transformation: reading the canon requires transcending the lim i­ tation imposed on the human mind by emotions and selfish desires and discovering (again) the subtle meaning of the canon implicit, but not fully embodied, in the words of the canon. Once one reads as the M ind of Dao, then it is the nature that is the master of the whole self and the reading subject that rediscovers the original innate goodness of one’s inner essence (Ch’ien 1986, 262-64). In the final step of his hermeneutic, Zhu Xi warns his students to keep their subjective views at abeyance while reading and not to im­ pose any unwarranted expectations on what they might gain from the text (Van Zoeren 1991,242-46). There is clearly a very broad appeal in this account of Zhu X i’s ideas about reading; it provides sound advice that all readers anywhere would do well to heed. But it raises a number questions which lead one to suspect that there is more to Zhu’s theory of reading than what is laid out in the “On the M ethod of Reading” chapters of Zhuzi yulei. For example, did Zhu Xi really intend his dis­ ciples to experientially apprehend and apply the meaning of heretical texts in the same way as that of canonical texts? Zhu X i’s constant references to the “Six Classics” (and secondarily to the histories) in these chapters as the proper object of this particular kind of reading suggest that this section is concerned less with a general hermeneutics applicable to all texts than with outlining a canonical hermeneutics.9 We can only conclude that not only is there a divided reading subject in Zhu X i’s herm eneutics,10 there is also a fractured reading object; the method of reading is contingent upon the nature of the text read. How was it possible to arrive at a pious reading of canonical texts without first following a meticulously theorized general hermeneutics to ascertain the nature of a text in question? W ouldn’t Zhu X i’s canoni­

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cal hermeneutics necessarily rely on an ideological judgm ent on the truth of a text, or a passage within a text? How and when does this judgment occur? Is it simultaneous with, and integral to, a larger herme­ neutical act, one that is perhaps not explicitly outlined in Zhu’s de­ scriptions of canonical hermeneutics? Or is it simply anterior to it, as Van Zoeren suggests, and not properly part of the hermeneutic act?11 Reading the canon, for Zhu Xi and Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy of the M ing and Qing, was a critical part of the investigation of the principles in things (gewu) and the extension of knowledge (zhizhi). An impor­ tant part of this investigation is sifting out of the learning of the sages and worthies heterodoxies that “will bring great harm to the human mind” if even “the slightest amount has not been clearly sifted out.” The most dangerous threats to the mind— this precarious, impression­ able human mind awaiting moral transformation— are specious truths that are easily mistaken for the true Confucian Dao, particularly those found in Buddhism: “The student needs to distance himself from Bud­ dhist doctrines, just as if they were wanton music or beautiful women; otherwise [these doctrines] will quickly penetrate him.”12 The chapter in Reflections on Things at Hand titled “Sifting Out Heterodoxies” (bian yiduan) reiterates Cheng Yi’s (no doubt intentional) conflation of the non-Confucian with the false-Confucian in his state­ ment, “In applying one’s mind deeply to the correct Dao, Confucians must never err. For errors that are initially extremely subtle cannot be overcome in the end.” Cheng Yi then distinguishes between the ex­ cesses (guo) of Confucius’ disciple Zizhang and the inadequacies (buji) of disciple Zixia: “Both being excessive and not going far enough come out of Confucianism and lead to Yang and M o” (Mao 1721, 13.3a). Yang Zhu (440-360 B.C.E.), who advocated acting for one’s own ben­ efit, and Mo Di (fl. 479-438 b .c .e .), known for his doctrine of universal love, epitomized the Confucian conception of heterodoxy since late antiquity. M encius attacked Yang Zhu for refusing to “pluck a single hair from his head to benefit the empire” (7A.26), and denounced Mo Di for denying the bond between father and son. M encius argued that Yang’s and M o’s “depraved” and “evil” teachings “block up humanity and righteousness” ; if they are not stopped, then people will act as animals in devouring one another (3B.9). For Zhu Xi, too, they were the definitive proponents of heterodoxy, as evidenced in his commen­ tary on the Analects, where he states that, “Yiduan means not the Way of the sages, but a separate beginning, like Yang and Mo. Once they lead the world, there will no longer be [a principle of] father and lord”

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(Zhu Xi 1190a: 1.10a). Their teachings were deceptive, Mao Xinglai (1678-1748) explains, for Yang Zhu’s doctrine of selfishness resembles the tendency in Confucian righteousness to make distinctions and Mo D i’s universal love is similar to the underlying sense that all things form one body in the Confucian doctrine of humanity (Mao 1721, 13.14a-b) The contention that an erroneous exercise of Confucian principles could potentially lead one out of Confucianism altogether into a realm of heterodoxy may seem unduly harsh or possibly confused. Edward C h’ien observes that Song-Ming Confucians employed the term “het­ erodoxy” (yiduari) to refer to intersystemic differences (i.e., non-Confu cian teach in g s such as B uddhism and D aoism ) and also to intrasystemic divergences, that is, Confucians who reputedly held false beliefs as determined by the dominant ideology of the time, particu­ larly those who imported Buddhist or Daoist teachings into a Confucian framework (1986, 73-77). Although Zhu Xi is at times willing to con­ cede important differences between non-Confucians and wayward ones, the conflation of the two in orthodox thinking served a basically conser­ vative aim: an incentive to embrace the official version of the tradition. Heretical texts were read in the Cheng-Zhu curriculum; they were just read differently than canonical texts. A clear example of these two approaches to reading is the treatment of Zhu Xi and Lu Xiangshan in the Xingli daquan. Zhu X i’s is an ever-present voice throughout this official anthology of Confucianism; passages from his writings are quoted extensively and repeatedly to articulate an authoritative posi­ tion on nearly every aspect of the Dao, politics, history, and heresy. To say the Xingli daquan is biased in Zhu’s favor seriously underestimates the extent to which Zhu Xi, as reading subject, is virtually merged with the authorial voice o f the Xingli daquan. The chapter on Lu Xiangshan never quotes Lu’s words, or even those of any of his very few disciples. Rather, the speaking, reading subject of the Xingli daquan's account of Lu Xiangshan as the object of the official hermeneutics is Zhu Xi him­ self, or, rather, the ideologized Zhu Xi of Zhuzi yulei. The Xingli daquan represents Zhu Xi as the sole heir of true North­ ern Song Confucianism , w hereas it repeats Z h u ’s censure of Lu Xiangshan for advocating an “immediate” (dangxia) approach to en­ lightenment which resembles the heretical teachings of M encius’ nem­ esis and contem porary, G aozi.13 “In observing how the sages and worthies taught others,” Zhu Xi is quoted as saying, “have they ever said such words? .. .W hen did [they] say anything like ‘the immediate

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is correct’ [dangxia bianshi]?” (Hu 1415, 42.7b-8a; Li Jingde 1270, 124.2980). Lu Xiangshan’s “immediate” approach to cultivation ig­ nores a basic assumption of Zhu X i’s program, that not everyone is equally endowed with the same potential to be a sage. “There are dif­ ferences in innate capacity,” Zhu says: “If someone who is of slow potential is at one point unable to understand, [but later, upon] receiv­ ing someone else’s instruction, reflects upon it in his own mind and then understands and practices it, this is also internal. There are differ­ ences in what the human mind sees. Only the sage can see everything.” Lu Xiangshan’s methods may work for those who are born with the proper knowledge, for whom practicing the Way with ease may be said to emanate from an already self-realized inner potential. Gradually, through a process that can be laborious, Zhu Xi argues, even those who are not endowed with such an innate capacity can learn the Way, where­ upon their practice is no less internally motivated. Lu Xiangshan, Zhu continues, erroneously dism isses such know ledge as contrary to M encius’ teaching on “what is produced by accumulated righteous­ ness” (allusion to Mencius 2A.2): “Now Mr. Lu wants to call that which can be seen from within one’s own mind as internal, and if it is spoken by someone else, then not even a single word is correct; if something is said by someone else, then it is referred to as ‘external to righteous­ ness’ (allusion to Mencius 6A.1). If this is the case, then [Lu Xiangshan’s position] is the doctrine of G aozi” (Hu 1415, 42.5a-b; Li 1270, 124.2976). The methods and justification of this kind of hermeneutic, aimed principally at identifying the heretical in Lu Xiangshan’s writings, are outlined in the “Sifting Out Heterodoxies” chapter of Reflections on Things at Hand. Sifting out is a hermeneutic in the sense that someone (Zhu Xi?) at some point had to employ some method of reading L u’s texts to ascertain his intentions as a writing subject. There does not appear to be any provision or encouragement in the Xingli daquan for readers to experientially realize Lu Xiangshan’s intentions; the estab­ lished rules of canonical hermeneutics have evidently been suspended. Indeed, there does not appear to be any provision for a direct reading of Lu’s writings, for an official, anterior, hermeneutic has adjudged such a reading unnecessary. Clearly, a degree holder was not forbidden from reading Lu Xiangshan’s work, although even an eager Wang Yangming found it difficult to obtain L u’s books. At the same time, while formal certification in the civil service examination curriculum did not require students to read L u’s writings, there was a requirement

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to master Zhu X i’s doctrinal critique of Lu’s teachings. It is probably safe to assume, therefore, that most students preparing to sit for the civil examinations never read L u’s works. Already, by the late fifteenth century, Gu Yanwu complains, it was difficult enough to get them to read the classics rather than memorize model examination essays (1695, 16.15b-17a), let alone the writings of an “irrelevant” scholar.

Genealogical Hermeneutics Although canonical and heretical hermeneutics differ fundamentally over goals, methods, and the reader’s moral assessment of the author, they are both centered upon an ideological project of delineating the Dao as it is expressed, undermined, not expressed, or inadequately ex­ pressed in texts. Cheng-Zhu thinkers and most of their late imperial critics shared a belief that the Dao was transmitted within a lineage of sages and worthies (Daotong). The questions of who were the true sages and worthies of this lineage and which of their texts articulated the Truth were continually disputed, but by M ing times, scholars from dif­ ferent Confucian sects stated their claims to the Dao according to the same genealogical rules of discourse. Although by no means the sole aim of reading, Confucian hermeneutics almost invariably situates a major text, its author, and his teachings in relation to the Daotong. A text might be included within the sagely lineage (e.g., the Four Books, certain w ritings by the C heng brothers and Zhu X i), or, m ore ambivalently, a text might be marginalized by characterizing it as “as­ sisting in the teaching of the worlds though not transmitting the Dao” (Ye 1 2 48,14.1a). Other texts are excluded outright, as either heretical, or establishing the possibility of abetting heresies (Wilson 1995, 8297; Levey 1991,488-516). One might think that followers of Wang Yangming— who was ex­ cluded from the genealogy of the true Confucian Dao by Cheng-Zhu proponents— would have avoided, or possibly even renounced, the idea of Daotong. Wang had at least two responses to Cheng-Zhu genealogy, both of which redeployed the logic of Daotong to his own advantage. In a simple reversal of the terms of this discourse, Wang at times claimed that it was Lu Xiangshan who actually transmitted M encius’s Dao, rather than some other (usually unnamed) contemporaries (Wang 1959,7.60). In another tactic, which turned out to have a far greater impact on how “nonorthodox” Confucians responded to Cheng-Zhu genealogy, Wang Yangming reconstituted Zhu X i’s philosophical letters to demonstrate

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that late in his life Zhu came to embrace Lu Xiangshan’s approach to learning and moral self-cultivation. In an attempt to infiltrate the or­ thodox lineage, W ang’s followers merged Lu Xiangshan and Wang Y angm ing in to th e C h e n g -Z h u g e n e a lo g y by s y s te m a tic a lly downplaying their doctrinal differences, and particularly by reconsti­ tuting Zhu X i’s teachings on the basis of his alleged “later position” (yvannian ding tun), which agreed with Lu Xiangshan’s views.14 The prominent emphasis in Confucian hermeneutics on people and their texts as means to define the Truth might appear to give great weight to biography. At the turn of this century, Wilhelm Dilthey used biography as a means toward reconstructing the life-context in which a text was written, in order to recover an author’s original intentions. But the dominant hermeneutic regime of late imperial Confucianism was not based on intellectual biography in Dilthey’s sense. A text’s value and meaning, rather, is ultimately determined by whether or not, or to what extent, it correctly expresses an overarching Truth, one whose existence paradoxically transcends a precarious human ability to pre­ serve it and ultimately depends upon human sages to transmit it in the world. The life of the person who utters canonical words is relevant only after a genealogical judgm ent has been rendered as to whether or not they transmit the Dao, and even then, only to the extent that such life experiences shed light on the Dao. Zhu Xi evidently had no reser­ vations about changing the wording of canonical texts or om itting of­ fensive writings from the collected works of otherwise canonical figures such as Cheng Hao. For instance, the Tang version of the “Great Learn­ ing” chapter of the Book o f Rites suggests that gewu (investigation of things) should follow self-rectification, but Zhu Xi insisted that the original intentions of the author—reputedly Zeng Can (a.k.a. Zengzi)— were otherwise, and inserted wording that purportedly restored the origi­ nal meaning (Henderson 1991,153-54). Yet the evidence Zhu adduced to justify this claim had little, if anything, to do with Zeng C an’s life, or even internal textual evidence from the Great Learning itself. Rather, in an elaborate construction of the Confucian tradition involving the entire canon and the written corpus of post-classical Confucians, Zhu Xi articulated a conception of true learning that necessitated reorder­ ing the steps of moral cultivation outlined in the Great Learning. The apparent emphasis on biography is, rather, a genealogical emphasis on transmission of the Dao. The provenance of this Daotong project can be found to emerge within Song exegesis of the late classical text of Mencius. The Mencius

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is identified by Cheng-Zhu classical hermeneutics as the last canonical text of antiquity to transmit the Dao. The final passage in the Mencius (7B.38) is also credited by such Confucian scholars as Zhao Zhongquan (1618), Zhang Boxing (1708), and W ing-tsit Chan (1968,1973) as the locus classicus of a fully articulated conception of Daotong. This pas­ sage distinguishes between knowing the Sage personally (jian er zhi z h i ) and knowing the Sage afterward by hearing about him several hundred years later (wen er zhi zhi ). Mencius laments that no one in his own day possesses either of these kinds of knowledge of Confucius, even though they are not far removed from the Sage in either distance or time: From Yao and Shun to Tang it was over five hundred years. Men like Yu and Gao Yao knew Yao and Shun by seeing them personally (jian erzhi zhi), whereas those like Tang knew them by hearing them later (wen er zhi zhi). From Tang to King Wen it was over five hundred years. Men like Yi Yin and Lai Zhu knew Tang by seeing him personally, whereas those like King Wen knew him by hearing him later. From King Wen to Confucius it was over five hundred years. Men such as Taigong Wang and Sanyi Sheng knew King Wen by seeing him personally, whereas those like Confucius knew him by hearing him later. From Confucius to the present it has been over a hundred years. We are not far from the time of the Sage and we are so close to his home, yet if there is no one who has anything of the sage, well then, there is no one who has anything of the sage.15

This passage in the Mencius has long been cited by Dao School Confucians as the classical antecedent to the Daotong project of delin­ eating a genealogy of the Way. It is not clear when this passage was first read as a Daotong statement, but certainly historically the most important reading is Zhu X i’s exegesis, where he imputes a genealogi­ cal vocabulary to the Mencius by speaking of the relations among the ancient sages in the same language that he uses in speaking of the trans­ mission of the Way. Zhu’s commentary says, Perhaps [Mencius] dared not say himself that he had already attained his [Confucius’] transmission (de qi chuan), but he was concerned that later genera­ tions would go on to lose his transmission (shi qi chuan). Mencius believed that “there would always be someone after a hundred generations” (Mencius 7B.15) whose spirit would comprehend and whose mind would apprehend it, that is all. Therefore, he described the lineage of the many sages (qun sheng zhi tong) in their sequence at the end of his book and concluded with this [statement about the sage’s transmission in his own day]. In this way he showed that the transmission had its place, which could await the later sages for eternity. Profound is his in­ struction! (Zhu 1190b 7.26b)

Zhu Xi then links this passage to the central problem of Daotong: the restoration in the Song of the Way’s transmission after a hiatus of nearly fifteen centuries. Quoting Cheng Yi’s tomb memorial for Cheng

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Hao, Zhu says that the Way was no longer transmitted after the death of Mencius, but that Cheng Hao, “bom fourteen hundred years later, attained the untransmitted learning [of the sages] in the classics,” which effectively excluded Han-Tang exegetes. He took the revival of this culture of ours as his own responsibility, Zhu continues, “sifted out heterodoxies, opposed depraved doctrines, enabling the sages’ Dao to brilliantly become manifest in the world again. After M encius there was only this one man” (Zhu 1190b 7.27a). Zhu X i’s comment on this passage in the Mencius, quoted in part above, is also a rebuttal to Lin Zhiqi’s (1112-76) interpretation, with which Zhu prefaces his own comment. According to Lin, “Mencius said that it has not been long from Confucius to the present and that [the states of] Zou and Lu are close, but already there is no one who knows him from seeing him. After another five hundred years, how could there be anyone who knows him by hearing of him?” (Zhu 1190b 7.26b) Lin Zhiqi construes M encius’ statement that, “there is no one who has anything of the Sage,” as a lament that no one knew the Sage then, much less would know him five hundred years later. Zhu, con­ versely, sees this as a classical sanction of the possibility of appre­ hending the Sage’s teachings in spite of earlier Confucian exegetes’ inability to preserve them. According to Zhu, Mencius believed that the “Sage is teacher to a hundred generations,” and that even after a hundred generations there will always be someone “whose mind will receive this.” Thus, in the last passage of the book, M encius “described the lineage of the many sages” to show that the transmission “could await the later sages for eternity” (Zhu Xi 1190b 7.26b). Zhu Xi also quotes part of the Han exegete Zhao Q i’s (d. 201) com m entary on this passage, om itting portions of Zhao’s exegesis that do not agree with his reading. Zhao’s interpretation of the phrases “to know the sage by seeing him ” and “to know the sage by hearing him ” does not contradict Z hu’s understanding; it simply lacks any of the genealogical im plications ascribed to it by Zhu Xi. Zhao Qi com ­ ments: ‘To know the sages by seeing them,” which means to assist (fuzuo), refers to people who thoroughly understood the great worthies and sages and were able to be in their company. To personally see the Way of the sages and assist them in putting it into practice can be called easy. Those who “know the sages by hearing them” are those who were greatly distant from the sages. After several hundred years, there have been a great many changes. To surpass this [distance] and hear what the former sages had done, to pursue and abide [by their instructions] and to attend to their Way, this can be called difficult. (Zhao n.d. 14.17a)

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Zhao Qi, no less than Zhu Xi, was fully cognizant of the difficulty of knowing the sages after the passage of centuries. Zhao also focuses on the two phrases that describe how one knows the sage, which he re­ gards as central to this passage’s meaning. Zhao Q i’s reading of these passages, however, differs significantly from Zhu X i’s. For Zhao, Mencius distinguishes between knowing the sage by being in his pres­ ence, which can be called easy, and knowing the sage by overcoming expanses of time, which can only be called difficult. It is this critical difference of how one knows the sage that is central to this passage and accounts for M encius’ lamentation that already there is “no one who has anything of the sage” after a mere century has passed. Confucian exegetes concurred with this reading at least as late as Lin Zhiqi’s time. For Zhu Xi what is more important than this difference is that seeing and hearing the Sage can both constitute the grounds for transmitting his Dao so long as one’s canonical hermeneutics correctly retrieves the inner principles of the text. Mencius never explicitly states in this pas­ sage that he is talking about the Dao or any teachings, although Zhao Qi already made this assumption. The absence of a sense of the D ao’s linearity in Zhao Q i’s exegesis raises questions of whether M encius was speaking about a tradition as such, let alone a Song Confucian conception of a privileged lineage of sages who transmitted a Dao. Indeed, there is no mention of anything that binds these sages together at all, other than time, which is tragically slipping away.

Conclusion The hermeneutical regime that dominated late imperial Confucian­ ism was not universal. Educated men taught other, non-orthodox, modes of reading without risking life and limb, although, in doing so, they probably relinquished prospects of obtaining advanced examination degrees and lucrative bureaucratic appointments. Because this reading regime was so inextricably intertwined with the civil service examina­ tion system, it profoundly affected how most educated men in late im­ perial times read the canon, thereby producing and reproducing its own hegemony within a larger domain called Confucian culture. The two modes of reading texts I described were based on different attitudes toward authors. According to the rules of canonical herme­ neutics, the reader was expected to experientially realize the author’s meaning as a means to apprehending the Dao and applying it to his own life. A reader of a heretical text was expected to distance him self

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from its authors’ intention— as if it were wanton music— and sift it out, isolating the heretical from the purity of canonical truth. Any author’s status in the Confucian tradition was clearly marked by his enshrinement in the Confucius temple (Kongmiao), his position in the tem ple hierarchy, and exactly how his writings were used in the nature and principle curriculum (xingli) of the civil service examinations (for, as we have seen in the cases of Zhu Xi and Lu Xiangshan, not all writ­ ings included in the Xingli daquan were treated in the same way). For educated men who desired civil appointment, such matters were gen­ erally not a matter of personal choice. The double standard implicit in this reading regime runs contrary to the very possibility of a general hermeneutics described by W ilhelm Dilthey, one that applies equally and in the same way to all texts that require methodical exegesis to yield up intelligible meaning for their readers. But rather than seek ways to justify this late imperial Confu­ cian hermeneutic regime, one might also reverse this question: for all of its methodological rigor, did the human sciences outlined by Dilthey successfully separate moral judgm ent from textual exegesis?

Notes 1. 2.

3. 4. 5.

This is the Hermes found in the Iliad, not, as C. W. Macleod observes, of The Odyssey (Homer 1982, bk. 24, 115); Guirand 1989, 123-24. An important exception being the interpretation of hexagrams in exegesis of the Book o f Changes, which continued throughout the imperial era. Insofar as deci­ phering hexagrams in the Changes has its roots in ancient divination, this herme­ neutic entailed a process of transmutation of overtly unintelligible signs into human language. Zhu Xi privileged the oracular functions of the Book o f Changes over the textual commentarial tradition that accrued in later centuries. See Smith, Jr. 1990, 168-205; Henderson 1991, 66-67, 151-54. From the “Decree on the Acceptance of the Holy Scriptures and the Apostolic Traditions” (dated March 22, 1546), quoted in Jedin 1958, 2:74. Song Confucians also claimed that the intentions of the sages and worthies must be consistent (Gardner 1991,41-42; Henderson 1991, 151-54). For a comparative discussion of the problem of coherence in the canon, see Henderson 1991,106-15. Ch’ien 1986,75-76. Attempts to judge whether Chinese or European intellectual culture was more diverse, it seems to me, are futile. The problems raised in such a project are many. Other than a vaguely open-ended, empirical desire to include all thinkers who have been, or who may in the future be, discovered in the records, there is no standard upon which to determine what to include in this diverse culture. Moreover, how are we to describe this cacophony of thinkers? What critical vocabulary should be employed? How are these ideas to be categorized, distinguished, and grouped together? Attempts to write the definitive history capturing the actual diversity of Song-Ming Confucianism tend to rely upon existing native terms, particularly those that divide thinkers according to sectar­

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6.

7.

8. 9. 10.

11.

12. 13.

14. 15.

123

ian associations. Although such categories appear to be largely voluntary asso­ ciations or fellowships, they are ideological constructions based on doctrinal genealogies purportedly rooted in a privileged origin of the ancient sages. The most valuable empirical work resisting the legacy of this orthodoxy has focused on specific thinkers who were marginalized by or excluded from it. Hoyt C. Tillman’s work on Chen Liang (1982) and Edward Ch’ien’s book on Jiao Hong, for example, examine not only how the thought of dissident scholars di­ verged from doctrines that were regarded as orthodox, they connect this intellec­ tual divergence to the circumstances of their marginalization or exclusion. There is a spirit of intellectual resistance in this kind of historical analysis that inspired my own work. I should note, however, that Tillman’s and Ch’ien’s work was motivated by a desire to give voice to previously silenced views—to amend and supplement omissions from the existing narrative—whereas Wilson 1995 and Levey 1991 sought to engage the native discourse that made possible and ren­ dered seemingly necessary the systematic exclusion of divergent views from of­ ficial readings of the tradition. For Dilthey, hermeneutics aimed at reconstructing mind as the inner source of external signs, particularly texts, on the basis of a shared human experience (Dilthey 1976,170-207). Contemporary hermeneutics tends to be a biographical method focusing on reconstructing original authorial intentions by situating texts in the contexts of their authors’ lived experiences. My concern here is to outline the contours of a discourse on the basis of a widely shared institutionalized regi­ men of reading practices. Van Zoeren 1991, 238-42; Gardner 1990,46-48. The Xingli daquan (Hu Guang 1415, 53.2b) gives voiding the mind a primary position in Zhu’s comments on reading. Dilthey marks a shift from theological hermeneutics to general (viz., “scien­ tific”) hermeneutics in the writings of Schleiermacher (Dilthey 1976, 256-60). The notion of a divided reading subject does not hinge upon positing an onto­ logical dualism in Zhu Xi’s thinking. The point is, rather, that reading functions in his moral praxis differently depending upon whether one presumes to have achieved moral perfection, whereby one’s actions are guided by the mind of Dao, or, like most of us, one’s moral realizations hover somewhere between perfection and moral ambivalence. Van Zoeren (1991, 219-27) describes the growing consensus among Song exegetes that some of the passages in the Odes were depraved, and he describes Zhu’s recommendations on how to read them, but he does not integrate this kind of reading within his description of Zhu’s general hermeneutics. Passage attributed to the Cheng brothers, quoted in Mao 1721, 13.2a. What little is known of Gaozi comes from Mencius. Some of Gaozi’s teachings resemble those found in the Legalist book, Guanzi (Graham 1989, 100, 117-18). Gaozi is perhaps best known for his doctrine that human nature is morally neutral and that knowledge of the right (yi), which Mencius maintained was innate, re­ sulted from a posteriori moral education, like carving a cup out of a willow. Gaozi’s position that knowledge of the right is situational—that proper conduct varies de­ pending upon one’s relationship to another—was construed by Mencius to mean a violation of a natural disposition toward goodness (Graham 1989, 120-22). See, e.g., Zhou 1606 and Guo 1613. Sun 1666 and Fei 1708, though not, strictly speaking, Yang-ming proponents, also represent Zhu Xi’s teachings according to this “later position” thesis. Mencius (7B.38), Lau 1970, 204 (trans. slightly modified). Gao Yao was a min­ ister under Shun, Yi Yin a minister under Tang, Lai Zhu a minister under Tang,

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References Bleicher, Josef. Contemporary Hermeneutics: Hermeneutics as Method, Philosophy and Critique. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980. Chan Wing-tsit. “Zhuzi Daotongguan zhi zhexuexing” 7^-f*JI IK 514 • Dongxi wenhua 15 (1968): 22-32. Chan Wing-tsit. “Chu Hsi’s Completion of Neo-Confucianism.” Etudes Song, n.s. 2, no. 1 (1973): 59-87. Chang, K. C. Art, Myth, and Ritual. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983. Ch’ien, Edward. Chiao Hung and the Restructuring o f Neo-Confucianism in the Late Ming. New York: Columbia University Press., 1986. deBary, Wm. Theodore “Chu Hsi’s Aims as an Educator.” In Neo-Confucian Educa­ tion, ed. John Chaffee and Wm. Theodore DeBary, 186-218. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989. Dilthey, Wilhelm. Dilthey, Selected Works. Trans. E. P. Rickman. Cambridge: Cam­ bridge University Press, 1976. Fei W eitaoJt Shengzong jiyao $! ^ If. Yiyong tang ^ ed. Zhejiang Provincial Library, 1708. Gardner, Daniel K. Learning to Be a Sage: Selections from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Graham, A. C. Disputers o f the Tao. La Salle, 111.: Open Court, 1989. Gu Yanwu I® jfeiK. Rizhi Lu H Sibubeiyao ed., 1695. Guirand, Felix. New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology. New York: Crescent Books, 1989. GuoTingxun Shengxue dipai Ming Wanli (1573-1620) yuankan ben jfj fS M T'J ^ ed. National Central Library, Taiwan, 1613. Henderson, John. Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison o f Confucian and Western Exegesis. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Homer. Iliad. C. W. Macleod trans. Cambridge University Press, 1982. Homer. The Odyssey. Trans. A. T. Murray. Cambridge: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press, 1995. Hu Guang ^JU , Yang Rong and Jin Yuzu eds. Xingli daquan 148 Ming Yongle editon, 1415. Jedin, Hubert. A History o f the Council o f Trent. London: Thomas Nelson & Sons Ltd., 1958. Lau, D. C., trans. Mencius. New York: Penguin Books, 1976. Levey, Matthew A. “Chu Hsi as a ‘Neo-Confucian’: Chu Hsi’s Critique of Hetero­ doxy, Heresy, and the ‘Confucian’ Tradition.” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago, 1991. Li Jingde 31 JfH#, ed. Zhuzi yulei 7fc“PIn IR- 8 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1270. Mao Xinglai M ^ ed. Jinsi lu jizhu J/r S ^ Jjl ££. Comp. Zhu Xi 7^ M and Lu Zuqian g Siku quanshu ed., 1791. Palmer, Richard E. Hermeneutics: Interpretation Theory in Schleiermacher, Dilthey, Heidegger, and Gadamer. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1969. Qian Mu Zhuzi xin xuean 7^ ^ - § f 5^- 5 vols. Taibei: Sanmin shuju, 1970. Qiu Hansheng 3 l4 l. “Mingchu Zhuxue de tongzhi diwei: lun san bu ‘Daquan’ de bianzuan.” Eg ff] ^ §1 (ft Tn W tlfa {4: m H p[5 ^ ± M H- Zhongguo zhexue t i f f . 14(1988): 142-53.

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Smith, Jr., Kidder, et al. Sung Dynasty Uses o f the I Ching. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. Sun Qifeng ^ of 'M• Lixue zongchuan 3 ^ {If. 5 vols. Sunshi Jianshan tang ^ ^ H ^ ed. of 1666. Taibei: Yiwen yinshuguan. Tang Yuyuan Hf ^ tc. “Cheng-Zhu lixue heshi chengwei tongzhi jieji de tongzhi sixiang.” g 7^ M H H 0# ® Tp Rt $E 7p iS 38- Zhongguo shi yanjiu (Jan., 1989): 125-34. Tillman, Hoyt Cleveland. Utilitarian Confucianism: Ch ’en Liang 's Challenge to Chu Hsi. Cambridge: Harvard University, Council on East Asian Studies, 1982. Van Zoeren, Steven. Poetry and Personality: Reading, Exegesis and Hermeneutics in Traditional China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991. Wang Yangming (Shouren vffZ). Wang Yangming q u a n j i Hong Kong: Guangzhi, 1959. Wilson, Thomas A. Genealogy o f the Way: The Construction and Uses o f the Confucian Tradition in Late Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995. Ye Cai , ed. Jinsi lu jijie ed. of 1248. Comp. Zhu Xi and Lu Zuqian g Siku quanshu ed., 1791. Zhang Boxing SKfSfj- Daotong lu Congshu ji cheng ed., 1708. Zhou Rudeng Shengxue zongchuan Fang Ruqi jiaokanben R TO 1606. National Central Library, Taiwan. Zhu Xi 7^ :^ . Lunyu jizhu. Sibu beiyao ed., 1190a. Zhu Xi 7^ 1!• Mengzi jizhu. Sibu beiyao ed., 1190b.

Part 3 Hermeneutics as Politics

7 The Confucian Classics: Kingship and Authority1 Julia Ching

Introduction: The Oral and the Written In the case of all the world’s religious and literary traditions, the oral tradition has preceded the written. This is especially observable in the case of India, both for the Hindu and the Buddhist traditions, with a very long lapse of time between the historical Buddha’s death and the final recording of the scriptures. The written text has also been slow to follow the spoken word in the case of China. The Confucian classics were transmitted orally for cen­ turies before they were committed to writing— and long after the in­ vention of writing. Indeed, the character of the Chinese classics as oral tradition remains “imprinted” on most of the written texts, whether as poetry which was meant to be sung, divinatory oracles intended for oral consultation, royal speeches and pronouncements, or dialogues between master and disciples. It is only by keeping in mind the oral origin of the classical texts that one might begin to make the discovery of the meaning of the written signs left behind—by going behind and beyond them, to that which gives them meaning: the presence of the authors, of the alleged sages, whose voices had authority. The oral and written word are intertwined, so much so that it has become difficult to discern one from the other; to find the author’s voice, one must study the text. For classical and scriptural texts re129

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corded long ago, the oral utterance can no longer be heard apart from the text. Even when impressed on the memory, it has been conditioned by the text. It would not have survived without the text. We are speak­ ing of the marriage of language and writing. At first sight, the bond between Chinese language and writing ap­ pears less intimate than in the case of most Western languages. There is no single Chinese language, only a language family, comprising a multitude of dialects that are not always mutually comprehensible. Phonetic transliterations, including the kind we give in this book, are made from M andarin or standard Chinese, to which a host of dialects (but not all) are related. And they are all represented by the same script. There is also the distinctive character of the Chinese script, which is composed of ideographs: that the signs themselves— as well as the sounds— usually represent ideas. Theoretically, one could contemplate writing in Chinese and pronouncing the words in English or any other language. That is why the script has been a unifying factor in a country with so many different dialects. That is why the Chinese script was taken over by Koreans and Japanese, whose spoken languages are very different from the Chinese. And that is also why the script has remained relatively constant throughout two millennia of time. The earliest deciphered texts in Chinese were the oracle bone in­ scriptions. These were followed by the inscriptions on bronze vessels. Wooden, bamboo and silk manuscripts were also in use, especially with the rise of the discourse form in philosophical discussions, and of literary writing. Paper did not come into general use until the third or fourth century c.E. It is thus common sense to suppose that the very scarcity of the copies enhanced the value of the texts that were known and circulated, among the few who were literate.2

The Invention of Writing When writing was first invented in China, and whether it was an inde­ pendent event or one linked to early forms of writing in the Near East, which appeared even earlier, are questions to which a clear answer still eludes us. But there are certain hypothetical answers, drawn from ar­ chaeology, anthropology, comparative history, and even mythology. The myths attribute the invention of writing to more than one per­ son. According to some, Fu-hsi, the “Animal Tamer,” allegedly studied the marks of birds and beasts from which he invented human writing to replace the primitive mnemonic device of making knots on cords.3

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According to others, he invented the Eight Trigrams used for divina­ tion, which became the forerunners of the script.4According to others, writing was invented by the mythical T s’ang Chieh, who is also said to have derived inspiration from the claw prints of birds. The confusion of writing with divinatory trigrams is itself interest­ ing, since the earliest deciphered written characters served the divina­ tion rituals. It highlights the magico-religious character of the writing system, reflected even today in the practice of divination by word-analy­ sis or glyphomancy. This happens when an expert splits a word into its various components and analyses their meaning in response to ques­ tions posed regarding future events.5 W riting as Magic Writing, then, is magic: one method of gaining power over the living word. The tradition of the living word was originally oral; it lives in being recited, and only later did oral tradition give place to graphic.... Committing sacred texts to writing therefore was...intended...to attain power, since with the written word man can do just what he will.6

W riting, reinforcing language, is perceived as possessing a kind of magical power in every ancient culture. Adam is recorded in the Book of Genesis as having given “names” to all the creatures in the Garden of Eden, and he exercised control over them until his offense against God. These were not represented as written names. But knowing the names of others m eant in the ancient Near East possessing power over those who are named. The ancient Chinese called their ideographs “names” (ming). To know how to write the name of something is to possess an even greater power over it. And the fact that Hsu Shen’s Lexicon comprehends the words or names of ghosts and spirits as well as of mountains and rivers, animals and plants, rituals and institutions, means that it, too, has a certain “mysterious power” of communication with the ghosts and spirits.7 The decline of the shamans as a class favored by the spirits and deities could be ascribed to the emergence of writing. Their charisma had not required literacy or textual knowledge. But increasingly, those with literary and textual skills took over the management of society. With all the new magic that writing brings, we might argue that its invention also marked a huge step toward secularization: The power of the written word came from its association with knowledge—knowl­ edge from the ancestors, with whom the living communicated through writing.. .knowledge from the past, whose wisdom was revealed through its medium.®

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The emergence of books has also been attributed to mythical events. The earliest to appear was the mythical Book ofLo, a gift from Heaven to Yii the Flood-controller. It is usually discussed in connection with the River Chart, allegedly a gift to the mythical Fu-hsi, from which he allegedly derived his Eight Trigrams, the core of the Book of Changes.9 Paper was invented in China around 105 c.E. or even earlier. Print­ ing was invented a few centuries later. Around the year 500, someone got the idea of using carved seals as models for printing blocks. Taoists were eager to use printing for their charms and talismans, and Bud­ dhists wanted to have printed scriptures for the promulgation of their religion. The world’s oldest book, discovered in 1907, is the Diamond Sutra in Chinese, printed in 868, and “reverently made for universal free distribution.”10 The Confucian classics were printed for the first time in the tenth century (932-53). The Buddhist canon followed in 983. The first full Taoist canon was completed in 1019, although noth­ ing from it has survived.11 W riting as Literary Communication As we have seen, writing was invented in China less for the purpose of communication between human beings and more for communica­ tion between humans and the gods and ancestral spirits. But writing was utilized also out of the practical need of aiding the memory and of communicating with others, gods or humans. Such needs were already felt when knots were tied on cords; such needs were also filled when potters placed the markings on their handiwork. These needs did not rule out the religious character of writing itself. With time, however, writing took over an increasingly secular function, and Shang oracle bone writing was destined to remain buried and unknown for a few millennia before its rediscovery in the early twentieth century. The union of the utilitarian and the magico-religious character of early writing is especially borne out in oracle inscriptions, where words served divinatory and sacrificial rites, recording the ritual events for the royal archives. The scribe-recorder in that context was the shih/shi, a term which meant originally a kind of diviner, or a person who com­ posed magical formulas for ritual incantations, and evolved later into the guardian of divinatory documents. Later, its meaning was extended to scribes, including annalists, historians, and textual scholars, thus giving witness to the gradual secularization of writing.12 Leon Vandermeersch has pointed out the interesting effects of a very

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long “preliterary embryonic life” in ancient China— about a thousand years bridged the invention of writing and the emergence of written discourse. The process was a complex one, with a continual interaction between the spoken and the written word, since, presumably, informa­ tion was noted in one manner or another before it was gathered to­ gether in discourse form. Nevertheless, we may say that the lapse of time led to the independent and parallel growth of speech and writing, formalizing the latter, and causing the act of writing to remain quasisacramental as well as retaining its links to calligraphy. It also shaped the written discourse itself, keeping it frequently in a poetic or quasipoetic mode, as a record of songs and incantations (as with sections of the Book of Songs) or formal speeches (as with most of the Book o f History) with ritual roots.13 Besides, the role of writing as instrument has permitted the written recording of both of the religious rituals them­ selves (in the classical ritual texts) and of a didactic account of the events of history (in the Spring and Autumn Annals). If we look into the Analects of Confucius (probably in existence before the third century b .c .e .) we find a ubiquitous expression, Tzu yueh/Ziyue (The Master said). It has been claimed that whereas the scribe recording the speeches in the Book o f History had only written for the king, as his brush or stylus, and whereas the king him self had spoken only as a “mouthpiece” for the ancestral spirits, the M aster Confucius would go on record as someone who spoke by his own au­ thority, “not as the scribes.”14 Confucius (or his disciples) could argue that the words of wisdom flowing from his lips were also from Heaven, through his mediation of the wisdom of the ancients. But there remains an essential difference: in Confucius’ case, there is no alleged ecstatic seizure by any deity or ancestral spirit. His special relationship with Heaven was grounded in an awareness of his own participation in an ethical wisdom that related human beings to Heaven. For me, the Analects bridges the gap between a magico-religious antiquity, with a more rationalist and hum anist mentality, precisely because they are a record of oral transmission. This gives the words a sense of immediacy that is not found in topical, discursive, treatises, bringing the readers a presence as well as a message. It is therefore obvious why an intimate relationship should develop between Confucian scholars and their classics, those texts considered the fount of all wisdom, that allegedly carried the words of their an­ cient teachers, offering them a share in political authority through their

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own meticulous scholarship and insightful understanding of the words and sentences. The classics are the custodians of the authority com ing from the ancient sages. And the exegetes, as their interpreters, have become the m ediators of this authority. At a tim e when sages are no longer among ordinary hum an beings, their recorded words have taken their places and filled their presence. And the textual scholar, the exegete, has assum ed a kind o f priestly power, serving as a m outhpiece of the sages whose inspiration is recorded in the classics.

The Meaning of “Classic” The Chinese term for “classics” is ching/jing, with a silk radical, and signifying literally the warp that is found in weaving and makes— or breaks— the fabric.15The metaphor is all the more apt since the an­ cients wrote on silk as well as wood and bamboo. The term ching was generally used with reference to the books of the ancients— usually those attributed to the sages.16 But the name of Confucius became associated, rather early, with those of the Six Clas­ sics, which in turn were identified with the Six Arts, and associated with the Ju as a class.17The corpus as such was only established in the Han dynasty, although several of the texts were m entioned in the Analects and in the Book o f Mencius, and the whole group was called “classics” (ching) in Hsiin-tzu 18 as well as in Chuang tzu. W riting restructures consciousness. Once recorded as text, ideas become fixed, and require interpretation— both oral and written, while the text acquires the authority that belonged earlier to the author. This was what happened to the Confucian classics, as it did also to many other scriptures. And there were moments in time when the intellectual scene was especially dominated by the study of the classics: during Han (206 B.C.E.-220 c.E.) and T ’ang times (618-907), and during the C h’ing or M anchu period (1644-1911).

The Role o f Confucius In the recent past, two extreme opinions have been voiced regarding the authorship of the Classics. The textual scholar P ’i Hsi-jui insists upon Confucius’ authorship, saying that while the materials in the Clas­ sics have come mostly from earlier texts, Confucius had been respon­ sible for giving them a “soul” by putting order into what was chaos. According to him, Confucius edited the ancient Songs, taking about

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three hundred poems out of a collection of three thousand, and select­ ing about a hundred documents out of over three thousand to create the History. He also purportedly edited the rituals, and composed the words of explanation for the hexagrams in the Changes, making it more than a divination manual. And he gave his moral judgm ent on historical events in the Spring and Autumn Annals. For P ’i, while there were earlier texts, there could be no “Classics” before Confucius.19 The critical historian C h’ien Hsiian-t’ung, who also initiated the “quest for the historical Confucius,” denied any relationship between Confucius and the Classics. Insisting that the Five Classics are very different books, he claims that they were gathered in one corpus be­ cause of certain references in the Analects to Songs, History, Rituals, and Music, and the reference in the Mencius about Confucius com pos­ ing the Spring and Autumn Annals. According to him, the corpus was established around the third century b .c .e ., and, once this was done, other texts, such as Hsun-tzu, and the Han historians and philosophers, all refer to them as a group.20 My opinion is that Confucius need not be dissociated from all in­ volvement with the classics, even if we do not know his specific role. The core of many of these classical texts goes back to the time of Confucius, and even to the time preceding him, which shows the an­ cient lineage of the school of Ju. Each of them came from a different source, underwent a long period of evolution, acquiring some kind of molding from Confucius and definitely receiving accretions postdat­ ing Confucius. But it is not impossible that he could have collected and organized various surviving texts, including ancient folk songs from different regions, archival documents from antiquity (many resembling some of the inscriptions from Shang and Chou bronzes), and informa­ tion about ancient rituals, to which he would also have given some organized form. If this did happen, by what critical norms did he organize these an­ cient materials? Such may be discovered from his teachings, also as recorded in the Analects (7:20). Confucius was reticent to speak about the supernatural and the preternatural, and must have exercised his ra­ tionalism in his treatment of materials from antiquity, possibly demythologizing them by reinterpretation. He also taught an ethical humanism centered around a philosophy of benevolence or humanity (jen), which must have influenced his choice of materials. All this is not opposed to his description of him self as “a transmitter but not a composer, believing in and loving the ancients” (Analects 7:1).

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Not that the extant classics owe their present form or contents to Confucius. Because of the destruction of books in the C h’in fires and the later work of restoration, this is no longer a tenable position. All one can say is that the present Classics probably include in part those texts that Confucius had worked on, and other materials added by later Confucians. Perhaps, the Han commentaries appended to the Book o f Changes incorporated some of Confucius’ teachings on the subject, and additions by later scholars, as does also those twenty-nine sections of the Book o f History salvaged from eternal loss.21 Confucian classics, we may say, straddle the areas of classic and religious scripture, functioning as both. A Confucian with a classical education knew his texts— as would a Westerner with a classical edu­ cation. But he was also expected to behave according to the precepts received from this education. The Westerner, on the other hand, looked to his religion rather than to classical literature or philosophy for the precepts. The Confucian classical canon was eventually established accord­ ing to the rationalist consensus of the Confucian classical scholars, excluding apocryphal and prognostication texts. W hile the core re­ mained the Five Classics, the corpus grew to number thirteen texts, of which the Spring and Autumn Annals counts as three, on account of the Kung-yang, Ku-liang, and Tso-chuan commentaries. The ritual texts count also as three. Together with the ancient classical gloss called the Erh-ya, they made up an impressive group of Nine, which would later expand to include the Analects of Confucius, the Book o f Mencius, and the Classic of Filial Piety, attributed to Confucius’ disciple Tseng-tzu, thus making up the “Thirteen Classics.”

Confucius as Uncrowned King Another dimension of Confucian thinking that came to the fore in Han thought may be termed “messianic.” That was pointed out by those who asserted that M aster K ’ung sought to promote the ideas of the ancients, including those of Shang times. It has been claimed that the Shang people always looked forward to a messianic king from their line, expected within five hundred years of the dynasty’s fall. As a scion of a clan that traced itself back to Shang progenitors, K ’ung was in a sense the fulfillment of these hopes. Such messianism was native to China, having emerged long before C hrist’s birth. It may be under­ stood as a corollary of the kingship paradigm. Once the real king is

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expected to be an ideal ruler, people presumably would look forward to having such an ideal ruler over them. During the Han (202-220 b .c .e .), it was suggested that K ’ung had had the ambition of personally becoming king, which, of course, re­ mained unfulfilled. This interpretation was circulating among scholars at least until the T ’ang dynasty (618-906).22But by what right did K’ung perceive him self as deserving to be king? Was it lineage, or was it possession of wisdom? Interestingly, the term tzu, to which fu-tzu (“M aster”) is related, had originally been a term for royal princes and kinsmen. Then it became used as a polite term of address for persons in the position of grand counselor. Toward the end of the Spring and Autumn period, it took on the meaning of “teacher,” and was applied to the great masters of dis­ ciples and, especially, to the philosophers among them. As for the term fu-tzu, it was first used for military officers of various ranks. Later it was applied to grand counselors of feudal lords, and, eventually, to expressing even higher esteem for a teacher and master than the simple term tzu.23 Let us reflect once more on the legends of Yao and Shun each leav­ ing the throne to the best qualified, rather than to a son. We have men­ tioned that these legends were possibly popularized by Confucius and his school. Perhaps these were invented by them as myths, through selective reading of history accompanied by moral reflections.24 In this light, we may appreciate better Confucius’ statement: “If [a king] is able to govern his state with the disposition of modesty and propriety (li jang/lirang, i.e., ‘yielding’, possibly including the idea of readiness to give it up), what trouble can he have? If he is unable to govern the state with modesty and propriety, what has he to do with the rites and propriety?” (Analects 4:13). The ancients appear to have believed in the cyclical recurrence of sage-kings and good governments. At the very end of the Book o f Mencius we have this passage about the tim e periods that lapsed be­ tween the sage-kings of old: Over five hundred years lapsed between [the time of] Yao and Shun and [that of King] T’ang... .Over five hundred years [also] lapsed between [the time of] T’ang and that of [King] Wen....Over five hundred years lapsed between [the time of] Wen and that of Confucius....And over one hundred years have lapsed since the time of Confucius. We are so near in time to the sage, and so close in place to his home. And yet, is there no one [who is now a sage]? Is there no one [who is now a sage]?25

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The final two sentences are the least explicit. But what M encius seems to be suggesting is that, given the cyclical emergence of sages— most of whom were kings as well— Confucius was clearly an exception for not also having been a king. And, should that have been a historical quirk, then what should be happening in his own day? One might even infer his saying: Should not M encius him self be also regarded as a sage? In that case, should he also not be given the responsibility that went with it? And, finally, the question is: W hy was he not accepted as such (and, of course, neither was Confucius)? W hat was Heaven in­ tending to do with the world?26 True, there were presumably sage ministers as well as sage-kings: men like Yi-yin, who served King T ’ang, and the Duke of Chou, who served his brother and nephew. That Confucius— and also Mencius— desired to serve in government is a well-known fact. They might very well have looked forward to serving a great sage-king. But even there, each would be bitterly disappointed. All the more, we might appreciate the lament of Confucius over the absence of portents for the coming of a great sage, destined to be king: “The phoenix does not come; the river gives forth no chart. It is all over me!” (9:8)27The phoenix was the mythical winged messenger that an­ nounced the coming of the sage-king Shun. The river chart was among those treasures inherited by the Chou king on the occasion of his en­ thronement. It supposedly mapped out the trigrams from the Book of Changes in a magic arrangement of numbers and symbols that could have, among other things, served as the architectural blueprint for the royal Bright Hall. In this case, it would appear that he was expecting a new river chart, possibly to announce a new reign of peace and pros­ perity. Was Confucius thinking of himself as the architect of peace and reason, or was he only thinking of an ideal ruler to whom he would be a wise minister? He could, of course, have thought of both. We have no doubt that he believed him self to be a wise man, even if he never called him self a sage. The Han thinker Tung Chung-shu contended that Confucius received from Heaven shortly before his death the M andate to establish new institutions to replace the decadent Chou dynasty. Tung built this theory on the recorded appearance of a mythical unicorn-like animal called lin as told in the Spring and Autumn Annals (481 B.c.E.) and the story in the Tso Commentary of Confucius having seen it:

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There are things that cannot be brought to pass through [human] effort....Such was the hunt in the west which captured the lin—an omen of Confucius’ receiving the Mandate. He then used the Spring and Autumn Annals to correct what was wrong and reveal the meaning of the changing of dynastic institutions.28

This became the starting-point for the veneration of Confucius as an “uncrowned king” governing history through his books, especially the didactic Spring and Autumn Annals. How this happened will be dis­ cussed elsewhere. This veneration was accompanied by his near apotheosis in the apoc­ ryphal texts that abounded during the Han times. He is said to have been bom of the union in a dream state of his mother with a semi­ divine figure called the Black Emperor. He was allegedly bom in a hollow mulberry, which had sacred references. He carried on his breast a text announcing a new dynasty. He was described as huge in height and circumference, yet resembling a crouching dragon when seated. Sages are not bom for nothing. They must surely institute something, to reveal the mind of Heaven. And Confucius, as a wooden-tongued bell, instituted laws for the world.29

With the passage of time, the figure of Confucius re-emerged, not as a god, but as a philosopher and uncrowned king. The royal title would become part of the official title bestowed on him by the real emperors. In 1308, during the Mongol times, this title became The Complete, M ost Perfect Sage, King Wen-hsiin.30 This title is still on his tomb­ stone in Qufu, the quiet town visited by many an emperor who also personally offered him sacrifices there.31

The Sacred Authority of the Classics Within the Chinese context the Confucian classics were unique as classics, even if Taoists and Buddhists also used the term ching to refer to their own scriptures. The Confucian canon had normative authority, having allegedly come from the sages. It served an orthodoxy usually supported by the state and by scholarly consensus. And it made an impact on the entire Chinese civilization, through the work of exegesis and hermeneutics. Indeed, traditional Chinese education has mainly been an education in the classics and their commentaries, while traditional philosophy— including Taoist and Buddhist philosophy— has always gone back to the Confucian classics for its authority and verification. The Classics represent “true learning,” as distinct from false or per­ verse learning. They represent a position of orthodoxy opposed to the

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deviations of falsehood or heterodoxy. Personally I consider this the result of two things: (1) an early sense of communication with the di­ vine, and (2) a sense of the differentiation between true and false teachers or “prophets” (be they shamans or shamanic kings), who claimed con­ tact with deities and ancestral spirits, and of true and false sages, who took over even the authority of the sacred kings, to speak in the name of Heaven. And this is why the Confucian classics resemble religious scriptures— whether of the East or the West— more than Greek or Latin or Renaissance classics, which derive their authority more from their own intrinsic value as great literary and philosophical works than from any divine or semi-divine authority. The question of traditional attribution is in itself instructive because of what it teaches about the authority of the ancient sages. The Book o f Changes is a good example. Tradition has ascribed the core of the book, the Eight Trigrams, to the mythical culture hero Fu-hsi, while it has assigned the sixty-four Hexagrams derived from the Trigrams to King Wen of Chou, the beloved of Heaven (r. 1171-1122 b .c .e .), and the explanatory formulas of the Hexagrams to his son, the Duke of Chou (d. 1094 b .c .e .), the architect of ritual and political institutions for the dynasty. Lastly, the longer Commentaries called the Ten Wings, are attributed to Confucius. Now, Fu-hsi, King Wen, the Duke of Chou, and Confucius were all considered sages. Religiously speaking, Confucius’ alleged authorship or editorship has been decisive in certain texts being considered as classics, just as the Hebrew Pentateuch derives its authority from God through M oses, its alleged author. And yet, the secular character of the Confucian tradition, coming from its hum anist em phases, so overpowered the religious past that the texts were transm itted more as classics con­ taining human wisdom than as scriptures revealing the wisdom of God. W hile the Confucian texts were not considered jurisprudential in inspiration, they have served the Chinese state much as the Jewish Torah has served the Jewish people, with venerating interpreters and exegetes who explained every line and every word. Indeed, the clas­ sical corpus could also be compared to an im portant secular docu­ m ent like the United States Constitution, with its many accretions and am endm ents, and the generations o f interpreters, who both ex­ amine and manipulate its statements in the work of governance. As a set of texts that combine sacred and secular characteristics, the clas­ sics serve a political function as well, going back to the images of the sage kings as supreme exemplars, and offering the actual rulers a

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blueprint for wise and benevolent government. No wonder the state intervened in the form ation of the classical corpus and in the educa­ tion of its scholars. To a large extent, the history of exegesis has been the history of disagreements between exegetes, and we cannot dismiss the attempts made over and again to yield certain specific meanings from various classics. Perhaps this is to be expected, on account of the normative value of the texts concerned. Exegetes and interpreters sought to partake of tex­ tual authority by bending the words and sentences, just as do our con­ temporary experts in the constitutions of states and, in the case of China, often with the intention of limiting the exercise of despotic power.

The Classics and Kingship We remember that Han China was an epoch when all under Heaven was unified under one ruler governing by Heaven’s Mandate, and even­ tually with the help of Confucian orthodoxy. It was a development par­ allel to early Christendom under Constantine, who had a “political theology” of one God, one Logos, one Emperor and one World— with philosophical monotheism applied to the monarchical order. No won­ der the name Han became identified with the majority population of China, which has been so marked by the transformations that took place during those times. The development of exegesis is best seen in the light of diachronic dialogue and dialectic. The exegetes of the earlier period of the Han dynasty (206 B.C.E.-220 c .e .) were concerned with both the so-called “literal” and “allegorical” meanings of the classics, even if the prin­ ciples of interpretation were more implicit than explicit. But the meth­ ods of interpretation were not difficult to discern. They include “lower” textual criticism, with detailed analysis of words and sentences within a classical text, based especially on philological interpretation, and the interpretation of one text with the help of cross references to other texts, usually from within the same classical corpus.32

The Spring and Autumn Annals: Allegorical Interpretations The Spring and Autumn Annals have always offered an interesting case for those who favored the allegorical method of textual interpreta­ tion. The short, laconic notices in these Annals covering the years 722481 b .c .e . in the small state of Lu require ingenuity on the part of any

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scholar seeking a broader interpretation (yi-li or philosophical m ean­ ing). Besides, the main text had contributed early to variant interpreta­ tions, associated with the three subsidiary texts called “com m entaries” (chuan/zhuan), which themselves eventually acquired the status of “clas­ sics” (ching). We are speaking of the lengthy narrative, Tso Commentary (ascribed to Tso C h’iu-ming, supposedly Confucius’ contemporary), as well as the Kung-yang and Ku-liang traditions, both extant in a catechetical format. The Tso Commentary played a special role in making Confucius an “uncrowned king,” but the Kung-yang commentary was the favorite of the allegorical school. Following upon Tung Chung-shu’s suggestions, the scholar Ho Hsiu (129-82 b .c .e .) elaborated on the “Three Ages” theory, which divided the 242 years covered by the Spring and Autumn Annals into three groups: the latest years were those personally wit­ nessed by Confucius, and then, going backward, came those that he had heard of through oral testimony and then those he learnt of through transmitted records.33These “Three Ages” were subsequently described in chronological order as those of Disorder, Approaching Peace, and Universal Peace. The Chinese view of time has been usually described as cyclical and backward-looking, as shown in the preferred “utopian” description of a Golden Past, especially found in the Section called Li-yiin (Evolu­ tion of Rites) of the Book o f Rites, which speaks of a remote past when the “world belonged to all,” called the Great Unity ( ta-t’ung/datong), and a time after that ruled by the early kings, called the Lesser Prosper­ ity (hsiao-k’ang/xiaokang).34M any reformers in history had wanted to restore the age of Lesser Prosperity, and a few visionaries even looked back to the Great Unity. But the “Three Ages” theory has presented the possibility of projecting the past into the future in a different way: by claiming the possibility of progress through history, thus proclaiming a more linear view of time itself. Both Tung Chung-shu (179-104 b .c .e .) and Ho Hsiu belonged to the M odem Script School, which had much tolerance for apocryphal lit­ erature and sought political influence in proclaiming their flamboyant reading of the classics. Their ideas were resurrected in the late C h’ing period by the controversial scholar and reformer K ’ang Yu-wei, who promoted their “utopian” theories to advance his own socio-political agenda— an eclectic Confucian, Buddhist, and even anarchist vision of a universal human community. The “political theologian” Tung Chung-shu sought with metaphysi­

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cal arguments to persuade the ruler to exercise benevolent government. Systematizing traditional thoughts, he established Heaven, earth, and man as a horizontal triad with kingship as the vertical link between them: Those who in ancient times invented writing drew three lines and connected them through the middle, calling the word “king.” The three lines represent Heaven, earth and the human being, and that which passes through the middle joins the principles; fall three.... Thus the king is but the executor of Heaven. He regulates its seasons and brings them to completion.... The great concern of the ruler is to watch over and guard his heart, so that his loves and hates, angers and joys, may be displayed in accordance with right.35

In times to come, as the kingship ideal was seen as offering possibly the best expression of the continuity of the past and the present, of antiquity and of the realities of secular politics, it is this expression that we find in the words of Tung Chung-shu, who continues to perceive in the king a mediator between the heavenly and the earthly orders: The ruler holds the position of life and death over men; together with Heaven he holds the power of change and transformation....Therefore the great concern of the ruler lies in diligently watching over and guarding his heart, that his loves and hates, his angers and joys may be displayed in accordance with right, as the mild and cool, the cold and hot weather come forth in proper season....Then may he form a trinity with Heaven and earth... .Then may he be called the equal of Heaven.36

The Book of Songs The allegorical interpreters of the love lyrics of the Book o f Songs did to this text what the Christian exegetes did to the Song of Songs of the Hebrew Bible. The case is virtually parallel, with moralists seeking to make didactic sense, including political lessons, out of love songs or outpourings of private feeling.37 But not all the poems in this classic deal with romantic subjects. There are also hunting songs, sacrificial hymns, and lamentations, as well as a few moral pieces. W hat is most pertinent for us are the dynas­ tic songs of the Chou house, which usually seek to confirm their M an­ date received from Heaven: The Mandate that Heaven gave Was solemn, was forever. And ah, most glorious King Wen in plenitude of power! With blessings he has whelmed us; We need but gather them in. High favors has King Wen vouchsafed to us; May his descendants hold them fast.38

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King Wen, the father of King Wu, did not witness Chou’s conquest of Shang. However, even in death he is the beloved of the Lord, with whom he is in intimate communication. And interestingly, he is pre­ sumed to have received the Mandate to rule, even though it was his son who conquered the Shang. The poem represents an attempt by which the Chou themselves sought to legitimize their replacement of the Shang as rulers of a mighty country. And the commentator simply confirms the bestowal of the Mandate on the Chou house.

The Book o f Changes A prominent commentator on the Book o f Changes came not from the Han and not from the Chin (265-420) period, and is usually re­ garded not as a Confucian scholar but as a Taoist philosopher. This was Wang Pi, whose commentary on the Lao-tzu became widely accepted. And he did the same for the Book of Changes, making of it a book of Taoist philosophy. According to Wang, change occurs on account of the interaction between the innate tendency of things— including people in different situations, as represented by the lines of the hexagrams— and their countertendencies to behave in ways opposed to their natures. By ad­ justing one’s behavior according to the innate tendencies of things, success becomes possible. W ang’s commentary helped to make the Book o f Changes into a literary text as well as a philosophic classic, rich in metaphysical, po­ litical and personal meaning, and especially attractive to the later neoC onfucian philosophers, and perhaps, also to the contem porary Westerner.39 Let me quote from some lines in the Book of Changes. They come from the commentary on the words of the text under the first Hexagram, Ch ’ien/ Qian (Heaven), and speak best of the role of the ancient sage-king: The great man is one whose power is consonant with heaven and earth, Whose brilliance is one with the sun and moon, Whose order is one with the four seasons, Whose [prognostication] of good and evil fortunes is one with the spirits and ghosts. When he precedes Heaven, Heaven will not oppose him, When he follows Heaven, he obeys the timing of its moments. Since Heaven is not opposed to him, How much less will [be] human beings or the ghosts and spirits!40

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Harmony with the cosmos marks the great m an’s power, brilliance, gov­ ernance, and good fortune. In the light of what we know about sacral kingship, the rituals surrounding it, the life in harmony with nature and following its cycles, such an exuberant statement is better understood. In that same light, we may also understand better how the very idea of a sage-king became exalted as an ideal type or a paradigm, with an impact on Chinese civilization and history that is almost immeasurable. Practical application is something that follows textual interpreta­ tion, which it presupposes, in the case of the interpretation of the Insti­ tutes of Chou, what is in question is not the manner in which they analyze the words of the text itself, but their acceptance of the text as coming from the ancient sages, whose authority they carry to restore certain institutions from a classic was one of the means by which a ruler sought to cloak him self with the sage-king’s mantle. Wang M ang gained popular support, and even with the backing of his sovereign he was never able to carry through his reforms.

The Institutes o f Chou A regent for his son-in-law, the nominal emperor, and a lover of the classics, Wang M ang had scholarly credentials, and established a spe­ cial Erudite’s chair for the study of the Institutes of Chou. Taking his cue from the Ancient Script version of the Institutes of Chou and from the M odem Script version of the chapter on royal institutions in the Book o f Rites, he attempted to restore the so-called well-field system (9 c.E.) by reclaiming all land for the Crown and then redistributing it among the people, who were expected to repay a tenth of their produce as tax.41 Wang M ang assembled at court a large num ber of classicists, in­ cluding actually both M odems and Ancients. The best known were such “Ancients” as his National Preceptor, Liu Hsin (c. 46 b .c .e . - 23 c.E.), son of Liu Hsiang, a Han imperial clansman and a specialist of the Institutes of Chou, and Mao Heng, the famous commentator on the Book o f Songs. But his reign never achieved legitimacy—in spite of the omens and prognostications which proclaimed his mandate. He was eventually overthrown by another Han imperial clansman.42 Obviously, textual interpretation carried with it political implica­ tions and consequences. But the authority of the classic was not always adequate in itself to guarantee the success of the measures implemented in its name. We shall see what happened to certain reforms that were

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attempted, in one case by a usurper who never gained popular support for his rule, and in another by an official with the full backing of his legitimate sovereign. Both Wang M ang and Wang An-shih relied on the Institutes of Chou, the favorite text of institutional reformers, eager to bring about the return of a Golden Past. M any hundreds of years later, the celebrated Sung dynasty scholar and statesman Wang An-shih also appealed to the Institutes of Chou for some of his reforms, which were undertaken with the active sup­ port of the Sung emperor. Wang personally composed a new comm en­ tary on the text; the Chou-kuan hsin-i (New meaning of the Institutes of Chou). He said of it: In the adaptability of its laws for use in later ages, and in the expression given them in literary form, no book is so perfect as the Institutes of Chou.43

Wang An-shih also instituted a new system of land registration in the name of the legendary “well-field” system. He divided all taxable land into units of one li square, on which taxes were graduated according to land value. But both his commentary and his practical measures met with controversy by those who disapproved of the further centraliza­ tion of power, and his reforms did not have lasting results. The failures of the two Wangs testified to a third force which played a role in the efficacy of reforms: the landlords’ vested interests. And the appeal to a classic, whether genuine or not, was unable to change the outcome.

The Book o f History in Ancient Script In the case of the Book o f History, the scholarly disputes have fo­ cused on the question of the authenticity of certain chapters allegedly transmitted in the ancient script. Generally speaking, the documents assembled in the Book o f History may be said to fall into two main groups: speeches and addresses going back to the early Chou times, and purported speeches and addresses which are actually treatises on abstract principles of government, or idealized descriptions of the deeds of ancient sage-kings. The pieces belonging to the first group are more apt to be genuine, while those of the second group, coming from An­ cient Script sources, have long been disputed. Take the example of the “Canon of Shun,” which comes at the be­ ginning of the book, and is cited in the Book o f Mencius. The language of this piece cannot be earlier than the third century b .c .e ., and the

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story is of the sage-king Yao ceding the throne to the sage-king Shun. He had searched for Shun after hearing this description of him: He is the son of a blind man. His father is stubborn; his [step] mother is insincere; his [half-brother] is arrogant. Yet he has lived with them in harmony and filial piety.44

Allegedly, Yao made Shun chief minister and later yielded the throne to Shun as the best man to rule. Both of them were known to posterity as sage kings. The Ancient Script scholars were actually more philologically inclined, spent their time explaining every word in every chapter, and passed their information on also from teacher to disciple. But differences of interpre­ tation between the Ancient and M odem Script scholars emerged espe­ cially when official Erudite positions were set up for Ancient Script scholars, permitting, and perhaps thereby requiring them, to demonstrate intellectual independence.45 Since the Ancient script scholar Liu Hsin supported Wang Mang, it was perhaps natural that scholars of the M od­ em script school should regain favor after Wang’s fall.

The Utopian Universalism of K’ang Yu-wei (1858-1927) and His School The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed a clear m ove­ ment in Chinese scholarship away from philosophy to philology, pro­ ducing a series of hard-nosed scholars who criticized the philosophical legacy of their recent past and returned to the more ancient classics with inquiring minds. Then the late nineteenth century actually saw the reverse happen in the person of K ’ang Yu-wei. As a patriot and reformer, he wanted to transform traditional society and prepare it for the serious challenges being posed by Western powers; as a scholar trained in traditional scholarship, he wanted to ground these proposed reforms in classical precedents. Liu Hsin and Wang An-shih had turned to the Institutes of Chou. K’ang sought to derive his ideas from the Book o f Rites and the Kungyang commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals. In Hsin-hsiieh wei-ching k ’ao (A study of the forged classics of Hsin-period learning) (1891), he revived the long-forgotten cause of the M odem Script school, asserting that Liu had forged the text of the Institutes of Chou and other Old Script chapters of the Classics to serve the reformist cause of Wang M ang.46

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With a few strokes of his brush, K ’ang proclaimed as groundless most of the work done on the classics (including philosophical elabo­ ration) since the late Han, because it went back not to Confucianism but to first-century forgeries. And he contended that the only classical scholarship worthy of the name had been done by the M odem Script School. K’ang’s next target was Confucius himself. In K ’ung-tzu kai-chih k ’ao, he claimed that Confucius was a religious leader and a political reformer who purposely attributed institutional reforms to antiquity in order to find precedents even to the extent of fabricating the achieve­ ments of the legendary sages Yao and Shun. Thus he asserted that Confucius personally wrote all the Six Classics, and that his institu­ tional ideas were meant not just for the Han dynasty, but for all ages. K ’ang unabashedly made use of apocryphal texts to support his own points, building up a mysterious Confucius and an esoteric Confucian doctrine that he wanted to have established as religion. Discussing ideas from the Kung-yang commentary, K ’ang advocated the theory of the Three Ages of Disorder, Approaching Peace, and Universal Peace, and he united these with the utopian ideas of Lesser Tranquillity and of Great Unity given in the chapter “The Evolution of Rites” in the Book of Rites, by looking forward to an ideal future rather than by putting his faith in a golden past. K’ang’s controversial Ta-t'ung shu (On the Great Unity) elucidates his personal, utopian vision of the future. Regarded as a moderate re­ former who promoted the cause of constitutional monarchy under the Manchu house, K ’ang showed himself here a true universalist and an anarchist visionary. Voicing eclectic beliefs coming from Confucian­ ism, Buddhism, and Christianity, he called for the total abolition of all artificial boundaries between human beings, whether nations, govern­ ments, families, or social classes, in the name of a community of goods and spouses! However, he added that his own time was not ready for this ultimate fulfillment. It could be better served by a vision of “Lesser Tranquillity.” The book was only published posthumously (1935) eight years after his death. Liang C h’i-ch’ao, who was K ’ang’s best-known disciple and fellow reformer, described the effects of K ’ang’s impor­ tant works on the scholarly community of the time as comparable to a cyclone, a volcanic eruption, and a huge earthquake.47 A word should be said about K ’ang’s assertions. First, were all the M odem Script texts forgeries by Liu Hsin? Here, a common-sense an­ swer is that the very number of the texts virtually precludes the possi­

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bility of forgery by any single individual.48 A much more logical hy­ pothesis is that a series of individuals, becoming dissatisfied with the texts and doctrines of the M odem Script school, began to stress other texts and doctrines, which they maintained went back to Confucius himself. But the problem remains: where did the texts come from? The same question may be posed regarding the texts of the M odem Script school, whose own versions only assumed their present form during the Han dynasty, and whose interpreters frequently made use of apocryphal sources and omens and portents to explain the texts. Presumably, the texts had various origins. Genuine ancient texts had been hidden and were discovered, as genuine m odem texts were re­ corded from oral memory. But there were also many other texts to which it is more difficult to apply the adjective “genuine.” It would appear that the invention of writing and its dissemination offered to scholars the occasions for voicing their own ideas, in the name of the ancient sages. And how were their creations received? Eventually, forged parts of various classics were inserted into such texts as the Book o f History and the other classics. Indeed, it is difficult for us to ascertain the in­ tegrity of any entire classical text, the Analects included, as having escaped additions and interpolations. Witness Chu Hsi’s express changes to the Great Learning and the Doctrine o f the Mean, and we might understand better how many scholars were eager to invest his interpre­ tation with the authority of the original classic. Even when he was wrong, K ’ang was always interesting. And his utopian ideas, given that they were meant for the entire world, showed his universalist concerns. These concerns have always been an integral part of Confucian philosophy itself; he only made them more explicit. His disciple T ’an Ssu-t’ung (1866-98) published a work, Jen-hstieh, which advocated a revolution against Manchu rule in China while ex­ pressing a M ahayana Buddhist desire to save not only his own country, but also the entire world, and even all living species. He declared that one should not call oneself the national of a certain country, but should look equally upon all nations as one’s own and all peoples as one’s compatriots.49 But the vaster their dreams, the more impractical these showed their authors to be. T ’an would finally die with several other disciples of K’ang Yu-wei after their failed efforts to introduce a constitutional monarchy. But their visions reveal the inspiration of the “Oneness of Heaven and the Human” serving as an impetus, with strong influences

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from Confucian and even Buddhist sources, to save the entire living universe. K’ang and T a n , as well as Liang C h’i-ch’ao, all believed in democracy as a better system of government than absolute monarchy. To that extent, they had learned much from the West. And they per­ ceived themselves as belonging to a larger unit than a country. This universalism is actually a legacy of the wisdom that was China, a country and a civilization that for so long regarded itself as “all under Heaven.” If, in their political visions, K’ang Yu-wei and his disciples showed this universalism by transcending national boundaries, then earlier phi­ lologists, seventeenth to eighteenth century scholars like Yen Yiian and Li Kung, also did so by transcending the temporal boundaries— such as by advocating a restoration of the ancient well-field system, which many other reformers before them had also proposed. This is an inter­ esting point about Chinese history, that the “reformers” looked back to a Golden Age of the past as a prototype for the utopia they hoped to restore. Indeed, traditional Chinese Utopians focused on time rather than place. Perhaps, we may consider this dimension part and parcel of the “oneness of Heaven and man,” that past and present— including the deceased ancestors. And for a long time, when a person looked toward the future, he hoped to see in it a replica of the remote past, a past long gone but never forgotten. K ’ang Yu-wei and his disciples were themselves much more forward-looking, having been influenced also by Western ideas. As they recognized the limitations of Chinese national boundaries, they also sought to transcend these, not by m ili­ tary conquest, but by extending their own concerns and compassion literally to the entire universe, even if K’ang personally remained a monarchist and sought, in vain, to restore the M anchu monarchy, in spite of his preferences for a universal utopia.

Concluding Remarks W hat are original classics anyway? We have a Canon, supported by centuries of scholarly consensus. We have no way of determining their original authorship or condition. As the exegetes and interpreters be­ fore us, we can always study these, or reopen questions of authenticity and the like. But if we do such, it is on account of our respect for a group of texts that had served as custodian of the authority of the an­ cient sages, as well as the respect and dedication of generations of scholars and interpreters before us. It is no longer an outcome of any

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“naive innocence” on our part with which ideas from the classics were made to support our own thinking, as was done for so many centuries: The horizon of the present is continually being formed, in that we have continu­ ally to test all our prejudices. An important part of this testing is the encounter with the past and the understanding of the tradition from which we come: Hence the horizon of the present cannot be formed without the past....In a tradition this process of fusion is continually going on, for there old and new continually grow together to make something of living value.50

Nevertheless, we need not attribute too much to the ancient exegetes’ “naive innocence.” The allegorical interpretations of the Han dynasty and the more spiritual interpretations of the Sung and M ing dynasties have all pointed out an important facet o f the Chinese exegetical tradi­ tion, that it has always remained open to new ways of understanding the classical texts. All of this did not contradict the Chinese veneration for the classics, received as texts and printed on paper for wider distri­ bution. It appears that with all respect for authority, there was a greater implicit respect for insight and inspiration, with the classics serving as a stimulus for further reflection. And if, today, we ourselves no longer subscribe to the presumed authorship and, with it, the authority of the ancient sages, we may continue to respect the texts for the accumu­ lated wisdom they carry, the wisdom that inspired the culture and civi­ lization of China, with its greatness and inherent limitations, and its value as a point of departure for further thinking. For, despite the au­ thority carried by the classical as well as scriptural texts, the Chinese tradition, whether Confucian, Taoist, or Buddhist, never developed a rigid or literal fundamentalist attitude to the alleged words of the sages and holy men, being rather more attentive to the spiritual message which both transcends the text and is immanent in it. For this reason, every generation offered certain reinterpretations, while always respecting the integrity of the “canons” themselves and the authority that made them what they were.

Notes 1. 2. 3.

4.

This work is adapted (with permission) from a chapter of my book, Mysticism and Kingship in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). Michael Loewe, Chinese Ideas of Life and Death (London: Allen & Unwin, 1982), 180. See Shang-shu K ’ung-chuan (The Book o f History, with K’ung An-kuo’s anno­ tations) SPPY ed., Preface, 1. Consult Than Yii-ts’ai’s preface to the Shuo-wen, 15A: lb-2a.

152 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

Classics and Interpretations Consult Wolfgang Bauer, “Chinese Glyphomancy (ch’ai-tzu) and its Uses in Present-day Taiwan,” in Sarah Allan, ed., Legend, Lore and Religion in China (Los Angeles: Chinese Materials Center, 1979), 71-96. Gerardus van der Leeuw, Religion in Essence and Manifestation, trans. J. E. Turner (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 2:435-36. See Tuan Yii-ts’ai’s epilogue, in Shuo-wen, 15B: lb-2a, 7b. See also William A. Graham, “Scripture as Spoken Word,” in Miriam Levering, ed., Rethinking Scrip­ ture: Essays from a Comparative Perspective (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), 133. K. C. Chang, Art, Myth and Ritual (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983), 88. A description of each in Taoist usage is given in Michael Saso, “What is the Hot ’u V History o f Religions 17 (1978), 399-403. Thomas F. Carter, The Invention o f Printing in China and Its Spread Westward, revised by L. Carrington Goodrich, 2nd ed. (New York: Ronald Press, 1955), 13. Ibid., 67-93. Shuo-wen, pt. 3B, 14b. This word is not the same as that other word shih mean­ ing officer, and, later, scholar. Consult Leon Vandermeersch, Wangdao ou la Voie Royale: Recherches sur l ’esprit des institutions de la Chine archaique (Paris: Ecole Frangaise de 1’Extreme-Ori­ ent, 1977), t. 1,493. Ibid., 491-92 Hsu Shen, Shuo-wen chieh-tzu Tuan-chu, SPPY ed., 13B, 2a. Wang Ch’ung, Lun-heng, SPPY ed., 28:1 lb. Chuang-tzu, SPPY ed., 5:26a-b. The Six Classics include Shu (History), Yi (Changes), Shih (Songs), CWun-chiu (Spring/Autumn), and Li (Rituals). The sixth classic is the lost Yiieh (Music) See SPPY ed., ch. l:4b-5b; consult English translation in B. Watson, Hsiin Tzu, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963). 20-21, where, however, the word “classic” does not appear. P’i Hsi-jui (Pi Xirui), Ching-hsUeh li-shih (A history of classical exegesis) (1928 ed., Beijing: Zhonghua, 1959), 19-20. See Ch’ien’s letter to Ku Chieh-kang, in Ku Chieh-kang, ed., Ku-shih pien (1926 ed., Taipei reprint, 1970), 1:69-70; Julia Ching, Confucianism and Christianity: A Comparative Study (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1977), ch. 1. See Chou Yii-t’ung (Zhou Yutong), “Liujing yu gongzi de guanxi wenti” (The question of the relationship between Confucius and the Six Classics) in Zhou Yutong jingxueshi lunzhu xuanji (Select essays on classical exegesis), ed. Zhu Weizheng (Shanghai: Renmin, 1983), 795-806. This is basically taken from Chou’s book, Ching chin-ku-wen hsiieh (Old and new script classical learning) (Shanghai: Commercial, 1929). Lo Meng-ch’e, K ’ung-tzu wei-wang erh wang lun (Confucius as an uncrowned king) (Taipei: Hsueh-sheng, 1982), 69-87; Consult K’ang Yu-wei, K’ung-tzu kaichih k’ao (Confucius as a political reformer), 1920 ed. (Taipei: Commercial Press, 1968 reprint), especially ch. 2. Yang K’uan, Chan-kuo shih/Zhanguo shi (The history of the Warring States) (Shanghai: Renmin, 1955 ed., 1980 printing), 403-04. Wei Cheng-t’ung, Ju-chia yu hsien-tai Chung-kuo (Confucianism and modem China) (Taipei: Tung-ta, 1984), 1-28. Mencius 7b:38. English translation is my own. Consult D. C. Lau, Mencius (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1970), 204. The commentarial tradition has interpreted these lines differently. Consult Meng-

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tzu chu-shu, SPPY ed., 14B:6b-7b. 27. For an explanation of the portents, see Waley, The Analects, 48-49. 28. Ch’un-ch’iufan-lu ch. 6, sec. 16, 2b. Consult Fung Yu-lan, A Histo ry o f Chinese Philosophy, trans. Derk Bodde (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953), 2:71-72. 29. The reference is to Analects 3:24, which says, “Heaven is going to use the master as a wooden-tongued bell.” See Fung, History, 1:128-29. 30. “Ta-ch’eng chih-sheng wen-hsuan wang.” Wen-hsiian translates as “proclaiming culture.” 31. See John K. Shryock, The Origin and Development of the State Cult of Confucius: An Introductory Study (New York: The Century Co., 1932), 167-77. 32. Kano Naoki, Ryokan gakujitsu ko (Tokyo: Iwanami, 1964). 33. Ch’un-ch’iufan-lu, ch. 1; Fung, History, 2:81. 34. Interestingly, in contrast with the West, Chinese utopian ideas have focused on time rather than place. 35. Ch’un-ch’iufang-lu, English trans. Adapted from W. T. de Bary, ed., Sources o f Chinese Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1960), 1:179, 181. 36. Ch’un-ch’iu fang-lu (Luxuriant gems of the Spring and Autumn period), Sec. 49, SPPY ed., 11:7a-b; English trans. in W. T. de Bary, Sources of Chinese Tra­ dition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1960), 1:181. 37. The romantic character of many songs has also been highlighted by Parcel Granet’s epoch-making Fetes et chansons de la Chine ancienne (1911), English trans. in Festivals and Songs o f Ancient China (New York: Dutton, 1932), which explains the classic through its reconstruction of some of the ancient courtship festivals. 38. Mao-shih cheng-yi, 16A:4a; English trans. adapted from Arthur Waley, The Book o f Songs (New York: Grove Press, 1960), 227. 39. Richard J. Lynn, The Classic o f Changes: A New Translation o f the I Ching (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), Introduction, 15-17. 40. Lynn, The Classic o f Changes, 138. 41. Consult Wang Mang’s biography, in Han-shu, ch. 99A-C. 42. For Liu Hsin, see Han-shu, K’ai-ming ed., 36:165c-66a. 43. See his preface to Chou-kuan hsin-i, Four Libraries Rare Books ed., Special Collection, Preface, la; for the English trans., consult de Bary, Sources, 467. 44. English trans. adapted from James Legge, The Chinese Classics (Oxford: Clarendon, 1893), 3:26. 45. Kageyama Seiichi, Chugoku keigaku shi ko (A study of the history of Chinese classical scholarship) (Tokyo: Taito Bunka University, 1970), 53-56. P’i Hsi-jui, Ching-hsueh li-shih (A history of classical scholarship) (Taipei: Wen-hai, 1964), 94-29; Zhou Ytitong, Zhou Yutong jingxueshi, 9-14. 46. See K’ang’s Hsin-hsiieh wei-ching k’ao (Taipei: World Bookstore, 1962). Con­ sult also Liang Ch’i-ch’ao, Intellectual Trends in the Ch’ing Period, trans. Immanuel C. Y. Hsu (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1959), 85-110; Ben­ jamin A. Elman, Classicism, Politics and Kinship: The Ch’ang-chou School of New Text Confucianism in Late Imperial China (Berkeley: University of Califor­ nia Press, 1990), xxi-ii. 47. See Liang, Chi’i-ch’ao, Intellectual trends In the Ch ’ing Period, trans. Immanuel C. Y. Hsu. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1959), especially 94. 48. Fung Yu-lan, History, 2:135. 49. I consulted T’an Ssu-t’ung’s Jen-hsiieh in the Shanghai, Zhonghua edition, 1969. See Tan Sitong, Renxue, especially 76-81. 50. Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method (New York: Continuum, 1975), 273.

8 Objectivity, Truth, and Hermeneutics: Re-reading the Chunqiu Q. Edward Wang T o most modem theorists of hermeneutics, seeking truth in history often is a futile, contradictory effort, for truth, which has been identi­ fied since the Scientific Revolution in the seventeenth century as a time­ less, univocal notion, is essentially ahistorical. As a form of learning, history interprets and reconstructs past human experience. It depicts and is dictated by the imperative of historicity, which defies universal­ ity and defines relativism. Paul Ricoeur acknowledges in a lesser known work (important to our discussion notwithstanding) that the question, “What does the term ‘real’ signify when it is applied to the historical past?” is “the most troublesome” one.1The question also can be asked in a different way: “is there tmth after interpretation?”2The issue here is that once history is perceived as interpretation open to hermeneutic analysis, it ceases to be regarded as an effective tool in representing the completeness of the past, but instead becomes a vehicle that leads people to claim a past that is receptive to and useful for their temporal needs. To fully understand this hermeneutic revelation of the nature of his­ toriography, it seems quite useful for us to overhaul the historiographi­ cal tradition in China as well as in the West. While the two traditions have developed uniform characteristics in their long evolution, there have been some differences. Although there had been a hermeneutic

*

The author wishes to thank Philip Ivanhoe, Achim Mittag, and On-cho N g for their comments on an early version o f this article.

155

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tradition in the West, it did not always influence the W estern percep­ tion of history, as described above. In fact, from the eighteenth cen­ tury onward, W estern historians followed a quite different tradition and relentlessly pursued truth in history. The “scientific history” of the nineteenth century, for example, which was best represented by the work of Leopold von Ranke (1795-1886), was prem ised on the belief that using the scientific method, or source criticism through philological study, historians could warrant the authenticity and va­ lidity of sources and present historical reality, or “wie es eigentlich geweseri' (what really happened— Ranke). In order to assure the effi­ cacy of this scientific history, historians were also advised to m ain­ tain a detached attitude toward their subjects and uphold an im partial stance while narrating past events. The historians’ adherence to ob­ jectivity thus becam e a prem ise to the exercise of scientific history. In his critique of the influence of nineteenth century positivist cul­ ture, Richard Rorty observes that, “In our culture, the notions of ‘sci­ ence,’ ‘rationality,’ ‘objectivity,’ and ‘truth’ are bound up with one another.”3 His observation has also been echoed by the historian Pe­ ter Novick, who in a recent book comments: “At the very center of the professional historical venture is the idea and ideal of ‘objectiv­ ity.’ .. .It has been the key term in defining progress in historical schol­ arship: moving ever closer to the objective truth about the past.”4 In a word, the promise that objectivity could engender truth in historical writing helped the evolution of Western professional historiography through the nineteenth century and well into the tw entieth century. Interestingly, this association between objectivity and truth seems to have never occurred in the Chinese historiographical tradition. In this paper, I attempt to trace the evolution of the Chinese tradition to its formative stage in order to show how in the very beginning, Chinese historians pursued a different goal in writing history, which was best exemplified by Confucian historiography that centered around the work Chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals) and its commentaries. W hile this Confucian historiography received many criticisms in m odem times for lacking “scientific” rigor, it constituted a distinct trace of herme­ neutic praxis in the Chinese intellectual heritage.

Chunqiu as Political Discourse Confucian historiography was traditionally associated with, but was by no means attributed solely to, Confucius’ (551-479? b .c .e .) ideas

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and works. This is not only because one often can question Confucius’ authorship of many Confucian classics, including the Chunqiu, but because in form ing this important intellectual legacy, a great num ber of scholars, or Confucians, in different tim e periods from ancient M encius (372-289 b .c .e .) to m odem Kang Youwei (1858-1927), have offered a variety of interpretations that (supposedly) help illuminate and explicate Confucius’ original ideas. Thus Confucian historiogra­ phy, as well as Confucian culture, becam e a rich herm eneutic tradi­ tion. In fact, m odem scholars often rely on the interpretations of the early Confucians to try to gain insight on the “historical Confucius.” Acknowledging this hybrid characteristic of the Confucian classics, especially the Chunqiu, Burton Watson advises, “We must rem em ber that when Chinese scholars talk about the Spring and Autumn Annals they do not mean simply the brief, dull text of the Lu chronicle, but the text as interpreted in the light of this tradition.”5 Here “this tradi­ tion” means either the contem porary or later comm entary works on the Chunqiu, m ainly the Zuo Zhuan (Zuo Com m entary), Gongyang Zhuan (Gongyang Commentary), and Guliang Zhuan (Guliang Com ­ mentary). In a broad sense, it can mean a Confucian cultural and historiographical tradition at large, which has been constantly shaped and m olded by herm eneutic interpretations, based on the readings not only of the Chunqiu, but of these comm entaries, by both ancient and m odem scholars.6 Accordingly, Confucian historiography in China is at once herme­ neutic and historical. It was in itself an ongoing dialogue between past and present in Confucius’ time and either earlier or later ages. To ex­ plore this dialogue, and the historicity of Confucian historiography, perhaps we can compare the Lunyu (Analects) with the Chunqiu, for the former contains Confucius’ direct comments on his age and its his­ tory, whereas the latter represents his ideals in historiography, as ex­ plained by later Confucians. In the Lunyu, there are quite a few passages showing that Confucius was keenly aware of the impact of history on human evolution. Confucius was well known, for example, for his ad­ miration for the declining Zhou dynasty (1027-771 b .c .e .). This admi­ ration did not come from a nostalgic sentiment, but from a respect for the historicity of the dynasty. “Zhou had,” he stated, “the advantage of surveying the two preceding dynasties. How replete was its culture! I follow Zhou.”7 One of the dynasties preceding the Zhou was the age of Yao, to which Confucius also paid his respect:

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Great indeed was the sovereignty of Yao! How sublime he was! Only Heaven is great, and only Yao responds to its standard. How vast he was! Beyond the power of the people to express. How sublime were his achievements! How brilliant were his civilizing regulations!8

Confucius’ strong interest in history led him to seek an ideal present in the past. He said: “I am not one who has innate knowledge, but one who, loving antiquity, is diligent in seeking it therein.” Regarding his role in history, he simply wanted to be “a transm itter and not an origi­ nator, a believer in and lover of antiquity.”9 However, in his search for an ideal, m oral present in the past through history, Confucius en­ countered a certain tension that was not only to affect the overriding tone of his historiography, but also open a door for hermeneutic in­ terpretations of the Chunqiu. This tension is a result of C onfucius’ high respect for antiquity and seemingly anachronistic approach to the problem s of his age, or o f a disparity betw een antiquarianism and anachronism . W hile Confucius intended to espouse ancient morals through historical presentation— in his own words— ”If I wish to set forth my theoretical judgments, nothing is as good as illustrating them through the depth and clarity of actual events” 10— his attempt was thwarted by the disappointing reality of history. In other words, his­ tory and truth (defined in his moral, political world) often do not go hand in hand in his historiographical practice. The reason for this failure was that between the past and the present (his time), Confucius easily and painfully observed a discouraging chasm . It appears there­ fore what had turned him to history also disheartened him. Indeed, it was not difficult for Confucius to find disappointment while comparing his age with the past. Again in the Lunyu, there are many places where Confucius expressed his dissatisfactions in making the contrast: High spirit in olden times meant liberty in detail; the high spirit of today means utter looseness. Dignity of old meant reserve; dignity today means resentment and offense. Simple-mindedness of old meant straightforwardness; simple-mindedness today is nothing but a mask for cunning (Lunyu, book xvii, ch. 16).

He also extended his disappointment to scholarship and education. “The men,” he declared, “of old studied for the sake of self-improvement; the men o f the present day study for the approbation of others.” Al­ though he admitted that there had been progress with respect to cul­ tural development, he still kept his own preference: “In the arts of civilization our forerunners are deemed uncultivated, while in those

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[same]arts, their successors are looked upon as cultured gentlemen. But when I have need of those arts, I follow our forerunners.” 11 Confucius’ high concern with the deterioration of China’s political culture determined that in composing history, it would be difficult for him to maintain an objective approach. This difficulty is also shown in a disparity between form and content in Confucius’ writing of history, namely the disparity between the form he was supposed to use and the message he intended to convey. Until Confucius’ time, the only avail­ able form of historiography had been annals. The Chunqiu was the annals of the Lu state which could have been recorded by someone else before Confucius. If this were the case, then Confucius would not only have had to wrestle with the form itself, but also with the writing of others. Given his high respect for ancient historical tradition, this very well could have been a paradoxical experience for him. On the one hand he probably felt obligated to follow the tradition. But on the other hand he could not afford to let his readers miss the obvious cultural and political deterioration he had observed in his age. For that purpose, he would certainly have felt some restraint when using the form of annals in recording history. W hile the disparity between form and content in Confucian histo­ riography is quite obvious, it would be wrong to suggest that Confucius was dissatisfied with the annalistic form, or that he attempted to make drastic changes in historiography. To the contrary, he was probably also content with the fact that the annalistic form allowed him to speak on behalf of the ancient historical tradition, which he intended to carry on. After all, Confucius’ purpose was not to distort history, but use history to illustrate ethics. His high respect for history al­ lowed him to be only a “transmitter.” The emergence of the annals as the earliest form of historical writing in ancient C hina showed this antiquarian worship, for the annals perm itted historians to record events according to the most natural order of historical evolution and present the heaven-men correlation. “The historian,” as Lien-sheng Yang proudly rem inded us, “was responsible to all-under-heaven and to future generations.”12 This heaven-men correlative thought required the historian to hold a religious attitude toward any traces, written and other forms alike, that were considered messages from Heaven. This attitude went back to the earliest days of Chinese civilization and constituted a perennial con­ cept in Chinese cosmology and philosophy.13 Confucius stated that:

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I can describe the civilization of the Xia dynasty, but the descendant state of Qi cannot render adequate corroboration. I can describe the civilization of the Yin dynasty, but the descendant state of Song cannot render adequate corroboration. And all because of the deficiency of their records and wise men. Were those suffi­ cient, then I could corroborate my views.14

But people also had extended this character-reverence to any piece of paper so long as it had words on it. As a result, it gradually became a custom for people in certain areas to preserve any piece of characteredpaper. “As late as the 1930s,” recalls Han Yu-shan, “men still went about the streets, gathering scraps of paper bearing any signs of writ­ ing or printing to be placed in bamboo baskets bearing the inscription, ‘Jingxi zizhV (Revered and loved charactered paper). Such papers were then burned at Buddhist, Taoist, or Confucian temples.” The inscrip­ tions or slogans were also posted in schools, according to Zhu Weizheng.15 Besides written characters, the historian also searched for other signs to interpret the will of heaven. In the Chunqiu, for example, one finds many entries about natural occurrences that were considered omens from heaven, such as eclipses, floods, locusts, and earthquakes. Their appearances in the account corresponded to the heaven-men correla­ tive belief. By paying close attention to these unusual phenomena in the universe, ancient historians situated human history in its circum ­ stantial world and traced its evolution along the time frame of the uni­ verse. This ancient notion of universal time was directly accountable for their use of the annalistic form in recording history.16 Compared to other forms, the annals thus are appropriate for estab­ lishing direct correlations between the cosmos and people. As a result, the historian believed that his duty was not to find caus~__ xdtions in historical events but to present them in a natural sequence. Comparing ancient Chinese historians with their Greek counterparts, Jaroslav Prusek points out that the Chinese historian “does not work up his his­ torical sources, he does not combine the facts he has found in succes­ sive chains, he does not fictionalize them, but he arranges them into certain categories. He does not strive at creating some sort of artistic picture of the past, but in presenting the material that has been pre­ served in the most accessible form to the reader.”17 It was in this historical culture that the Chunqiu was written. On the one hand, it follows the form of annals to provide entries that are, sup­ posedly, to indicate both natural changes and human actions. Thus the account is not a coherent narrative, nor does it have any sort of “emplotment,” to borrow Hayden W hite’s term ,18 in its overall organi­

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zation. On the other hand, many Confucians have traditionally found quite a few enigmas in the text that presumably convey Confucius’ messages to the world. Thus the text came to be a discourse that con­ sisted not only of “parole” but also of “langue.”19That is to say, while the Chunqiu records events of a temporal nature that happened in or around the Lu state, it in itself is also a system of language that is virtual and outside time. W hat makes our reading of the Chunqiu inter­ esting is that according to this hermeneutic tradition, Confucius was perceived to be both a cultural “transm itter” and a messianic m essen­ ger to the world.20As a “transm itter” he carried on the use of the annal­ istic form in historiography; but as a messenger, he attempted to distance the text and turn it into a discourse. Let us now turn to the herm eneu­ tics of the Chunqiu. Chunqiu'. The Hermeneutics According to the Confucian hermeneutic tradition, Confucius played a double, complex role in the evolution of Chinese historiography. The importance of the Chunqiu lies in the fact that it reveals the tension and complexity many have noticed in the Confucian treatment of the hu­ man past. As shown in the Chunqiu and many other contemporary texts, Confucius definitely understood the importance of delivering facts in historical records and the necessity of using adequate source materials in composing history. In Confucius’ eyes, an ideal historian (shi), or recorder, should be both intrepid and unflagging. He admired an an­ cient historian named Yu for his integrity: “W hat a straight man was the recorder Yu! When the country was well governed he was like an arrow, and when the country was ill governed he was still like an ar­ row.”21 The historian’s integrity, according to Confucius, is best shown by his honesty in finding sources for his record. He told his students in the Lunyu that “I can go back to the days when a recorder left a temporary blank in his records, and when a man who had a horse would lend it to another to ride. Now, alas! Such things are no more.”22 W hile lam ent­ ing the cultural degeneration of his age, Confucius here also suggests that a historian should base his words on sources. This statement corre­ sponds to his admission, quoted earlier in this paper, that he could write about the Xia and the Shang, but not the Qi and the Song, because of the lack of adequate sources for the latter.23 In the Chunqiu, one can also find examples indicating the honesty

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of the historian. In the fifth year under Duke Huan, for instance, there are two dates that were entered for the death of Duke Bao of the state of Chen. According to the Gongyang Zhuan, this was because the his­ torian was not sure which one was correct, so he allowed the reader to decide.24This instance attests to the ancient virtue of the historian which Confucius emphatically commended. In the Zuo Zhuan, this ancient virtue was emphasized again in a tragic yet affecting story. It occurred after a political assassination— not uncommon to the age— in which Cui Shu, an ambitious minister, killed Duke Zhuang, his lord, and took over Zhuang’s position as the head of the Jin state in the 25th year of Duke Xiang. This incident was recorded by the grand historian of the state. Afraid of the consequences, Cui killed the historian. However, the historian’s brother succeeded in the position of grand historian and reinstated the record. Cui had him killed too. Undaunted by the two deaths in the family, yet another brother came forward. This tim e Cui had to desist. At about the same time, another historian, Nan, heard of the deaths of the two historians in the capital and decided, too, to come forward. He only returned when he heard that the record had been straightened out.25 Can we equate this relentless pursuit of truth in ancient China with the commitment to objective history shown in the m odem era? W hile there are some associations between the two— it seems true that histo­ rians of all cultural traditions have sought to tell real stories— there is much more to consider if we want to make such a comparison. For example, as m odem European historians searched for truth in objectiv­ ity, Chinese historians used truth to expound moral and political righ­ teousness. On this score, we can use an example found in the Zuo Zhuan to illustrate the difference. In the Zuo Zhuan, there is a story which also involved political assassination, similar to the one we just cited, in which the Duke of Jin state was murdered by Zhao Chuan, the brother of Zhao Dun, who then served as the minister. Dong Hu, the state his­ torian, recorded that it was Zhao Dun who killed the duke. Obviously this was not true; Dong Hu probably thought that since Zhao Chuan did it for his brother, as a de facto beneficiary, Zhao Dun therefore should be held responsible. Although Dong Hu did not tell the truth, his action received Confucius’ praise. Once he heard it, Confucius ex­ claimed: “Dong Hu was a good historian of ancient times. He never concealed anything.”26 This story is both interesting and informative. It is interesting be­ cause Confucius commended Dong Hu not only for his courage but

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also for his insight; he received the message Dong Hu intended to de­ liver in his record: while Zhao Dun did not actually kill the duke, he was even more guilty than his brother. Zhao Dun not only helped his brother to escape after the incident, as a head of his family, he was also culpable, according to Confucius, for failing in his responsibility for his brother’s upbringing. Confucius’ care for moral principles there­ fore preceded his concern over historical facts. W herever historicity fails, he substitutes morality. The story is also informative for our reading of the Chunqiu. By praising Dong Hu for not “concealing anything,” Confucius actually set up an example for us how to read and understand a historical text. W hat matters to him seems not to be the delivery of historical facts, but the delivery of the hidden message. In Dong H u’s case, Dong obvi­ ously concealed the fact.27 But viewed by Confucius, this concealing actually delivered a more powerful message than simply telling the truth. Concealing therefore becomes revealing; and the two have formed a paradoxical, dialectic relation. Seen from this perspective, we can say that it was Confucius who opened the door for a hermeneutic read­ ing of the Chunqiu. This hermeneutic reading of text became a tradition in Confucian learning, extending beyond historiography. Calling it “traditionalism,” Steven Van Zoeren states that Confucians of later ages were more con­ cerned with “their participation in the original vision of their teachers” than the texts per se. “In a profoundly ahistorical way,” Van Zoeren concludes, “they felt free to articulate the truths in which they partici­ pated in terms appropriate to their situation, revising and expanding what they had been taught as the occasion demanded. They attended not to the form but rather to the substance of a vision that they assumed they understood.”28 Confucius’ reading of Dong H u’s history suggests that he was the first one who practiced this “traditionalism.” Confucius’ way of reading history shows that in ancient China his­ tory was not simply an amalgamation of individual memories; it was rather a macrocosm of m ankind’s collective memory of the past. To construct this collective memory, the historian should not simply tell what happened in the past, but should present his work in a way in which his readers could not only appreciate the traces of human evolu­ tion in correspondence to cosmic changes (e.g., the mandate of heaven), but also apprehend the significance of human history in general, and of each individual event in its evolution in particular. Hence history is normative rather than descriptive. W hether an event and/or a person­

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age is historical depends on whether or not it conforms to the norm that the historian intends to establish. Again, here historicity is preceded by a collective, normative conformity. The historian’s responsibility, ana­ lyzes Tu Wei-ming, “is not only to show what has already been done but also to suggest, whenever appropriate, what other possibilities may have existed and why the failure to realize them has led to disastrous consequences. To write history is therefore a political act committed in the nature of the human community as a whole.”29 Indeed, the notion that the historian should record what ought to happen rather than what already happened had long been an integral part of ancient Chinese historical culture. It could be traced back to the practice of the diviners, or proto-historians, of the Shang dynasty. These diviners carved inscriptions on oracle bones and heated the bones to obtain prophecy for the outcome of human action. In his study of the Shang divination, David Keightley has discovered that when the divin­ ers formulated the question to the spirit about human fortune, they tended to ask it in the way that they could also inform the spirit what men wanted in their action. That is to say, they intended to receive a fortune that would accord with their value system, rather than one en­ tirely decided by the spirit.30 Confucius him self left us some clues in regard to how he viewed the role of the historian in society. He told his disciples in the Lunyu that, “Where the solid qualities (zhi) are in excess of accomplishments (wen), we have rusticity (ye)\ where the accomplishments are in excess of the solid qualities, we have the manners of a clerk (shi, “historian”). W hen the accomplishments and solid qualities are equally blended, we then have the man of virtue.”31 This passage has induced many different translations, and their differences have been centered on how to under­ stand the meanings of the wen, zhi, and shi. But the meaning of the whole sentence, it seems to me, remains quite clear. First, Confucius seeks a balance between refinement (wen) and rusticity (ye), and re­ gards it as virtue in men. Second, he expresses concern about the style of the historian who, in his opinion, often pays too much attention to rhetoric yet fails to demonstrate the real significance, or essence, of the content. If we connect this to his comment on Dong Hu, we can prob­ ably see what would be the ideal style of the historian in Confucius’ mind. W hile Dong Hu did not tell the whole story, he had certainly showed his full understanding of its real outcome and had tried to present it in a most succinct way. Obviously when one reads the Chunqiu, one also needs to bear all of this in mind.

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Confucius therefore did not intend to be an “objective” historian in the m odem sense. Mencius commented on Confucius’ interest in his­ tory, as follows: The Sheng of Jin, the Taowu of Chu, and the Chunqiu of Lu, were books of the same character. The subject of the Chunqiu was the affairs of Huan of Qi and Wan of Jin, and its style was historical. Confticius said, “Its righteous decisions (yi) I ventured to make.”32

In fact, “y/” can also mean principles or precepts. Thus, according to M encius, although the Chunqiu is a book of a conventional kind, Confucius has added something important to it; if Confucius was its author, he was certainly not the historian “shi” who only knows how to make stylistic refinements for his account. M ost of the examples in the Chunqiu that are regarded as having meanings created or added by Confucius have long been identified, thanks largely to the Chinese hermeneutic tradition that existed through most of the history of imperial China, from the Gongyang zhuan, Guliang zhuan in the Han dynasty of the second century b .c .e . to the Qing “evidential” (kaozheng) school of the eighteenth century.33 The following are some famous ones that show how the Chunqiu was read and analyzed in the Chinese tradition. As annals, we were told, the Chunqiu was supposed to record, among many events, the ascendance, or death, of every duke in the Lu state, which means that the Chunqiu is by and large a local history. However, what we instead find is that in most times when an entry is given which was supposed to describe such an event, not only is the m ler or the king of the Zhou dynasty mentioned, but he seems to have a greater importance than the duke’s coming to power. Moreover, one also finds that the text generally follows the Zhou calendar. For example, the Chunqiu begins with the reign of Duke Yin, but its first sentence sim­ ply reads “The spring of the first year (of Duke Yin), the king’s (Zhou dynasty) first month.” What makes this entry interesting is that there is no description about how Duke Yin ascended the throne. Instead, both the king and his reign are mentioned. According to the analysis found in the Zuo Zhuan, which was also considered by some a commentary on the Chunqiu, the omission of the duke’s ascendance suggested a disapproval while the indication of the king’s calendar reminded read­ ers of the unity of the territory under the Zhou’s rule. The latter, of course, was not quite true, for the reign of the Zhou dynasty by that time had disintegrated.34

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Omission was certainly a way of showing disapproval. There is an­ other example, a rather famous one, which shows the Chunqiu's style (Chunqiu bifa). In 631 b .c .e . Duke Wen of Jin, a state which suppos­ edly acknowledged the authority of the Zhou dynasty, summoned the Zhou king Xiang to the north of the Yellow River for a meeting with other feudal lords. Needless to say, this meeting, assembled by a duke rather than the king, was a great humiliation to the Zhou royal house because the king had to go to his vassal. But in the Chunqiu, the text entry simply reads: “The King of Heaven went on a hunt north of the River.” To be sure, it was possible that the king might indeed have gone hunting with his vassals while he was at the conference, so that the record might not be a total distortion. But obviously what is dram ati­ cally trivialized in the text is the magnitude of the incident that was testimonial to the decline of the Zhou sovereignty.35 In addition to the omissions, one finds that in describing an event, the author of the Chunqiu has exercised a high level of caution and ingenuity in selecting and measuring words in order to defend the po­ litical order and rectify the moral system. This could be achieved by either slightly altering the way in which an event was usually entered in the text, or simply magnifying or minimizing its outcome. In 722 b .c .e ., or the first year of Duke Yin, for example, there is an entry which simply reads: “In May that summer, the elder brother Zheng defeated Duan in Yan.” This terse statement, according to the commentators, must be understood in a rather rich context, provided in the Zuo Zhuan, in order to fully appreciate its complex connotations. W hile the state­ ment mentions Zheng as the elder brother, it does not indicate his offi­ cial title. In fact Zheng was not only the elder brother to [Gongshu] Duan, whose status was deliberately left unidentified, he was also the Duke of the state of Lu. So what appears to be a family dispute was actually a quite serious civil war. The Chunqiu did not want to tell the whole story for two reasons. First, as a general rule, the Chunqiu always downplays any event that involves an unruly subordinate; it prefers order to disobedience. Sec­ ond, by omitting Zheng’s title in the statement, it also intends to criti­ cize Zheng. W hat has been left untold is that although he defeated his brother at last, he had neglected his duty as the head of the state and Duan’s elder brother to prevent this battle from occurring in the first place. Preferred by their mother, Duan had long tried to replace his brother Zheng as the ruler of the state. W hile Zheng was aware of his

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brother’s ambition, he did not take any action to foil Duan’s plan. Even­ tually, what seems to be a statement that salutes Zheng’s victory actu­ ally becomes a mockery of his initial failure both as ruler of the state and as elder brother of the family.36 The way the commentator(s) read and interpreted this statement was thus quite similar to Confucius’ read­ ing of Dong Hu. Examples of this kind of subtlety are abundant in the Chunqiu. In order to reveal it, comparative readings are sometimes needed. For example, in the fourth year of Duke Yin, or 718 b .c .e ., there were two homicides in the state of Wei which were recorded in two statements: “Zhouyu of Wei murdered his Duke Wan,” and “The people of Wei killed Zhouyu in Pu.”37 Two different verbs are used in describing the incidents in which a person named Zhouyu was involved. Their differ­ ence obviously shows a level of approval and disapproval. Zhouyu killed his duke to take over the position, which made him an unruly subordi­ nate. Because of his insidious action, he seemed not to deserve people’s respect. So when he, as a new duke, was killed subsequently by his subordinates, “the people,” the recorder actually shows some sort of approval by avoiding the use of the verb “murder.” By making this sharp contrast in describing the two deaths, the Chunqiu leaves clues for the reader to appreciate its moral and political predilections. A fter review ing these exam ples, we can now have a better sense of the com plexity o f ancient Chinese historical culture, displayed here in the Chunqiu. This com plexity dem onstrates itself on at least two levels. On the surface level, one finds an obvious contradiction in the historian’s— C onfucius’— pursuit in presenting the past. On the one hand, he seem ed to have been very concerned with w hether he could actually base his records on available facts. On the other hand, he often deliberately om itted facts to show his approval and disapproval. This contradiction resulted in a unique style o f the Chunqiu that shows a dichotom ous tension in Confucian historiog­ raphy— a dichotom y betw een objectivity and accentuation, histo­ ricity and m orality, truth and falsity. The Chunqiu was not to be understood as an epitom e o f C onfucian classics (jing ), as labeled by som e in the past,38 aim ing to reveal the system of kingship, nor a dull and terse chronology that inadequately recorded som e events taking place in Lu from 722 to 481 b .c .e . In either case, the Chunqiu was not considered a history. Hence its rich influence in the C onfu­ cian and Chinese historiographical tradition has been overlooked.

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On a higher level, what makes the Chunqiu complex seems to be the way people have read it through the ages, in which it, as a text, has been dissected, diagnosed, and digested time and again in many differ­ ent ways and for different purposes. In other words, reading the Chunqiu has become a hermeneutic discourse in traditional China. This discourse reflects the Chinese outlook on their past, as well as on the future, for it not only showed continually the tension that we have perceived in the Chunqiu, but developed another dimension in which a dialogue between the time of the Chunqiu and the time of the readers took place; the second time often represented the concerns for the ideal future. In other words, what made many people of later ages hark back to the Chunqiu was to seek a future in the past.

History as Mirror We can use the famous “history-mirror” analogy to see how this dimension of the future worked in the Chinese historiographical tradi­ tion. Unlike in the West, where history often was regarded either as an account of revelation (in medieval times) or a “grand narrative” (in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries), history in ancient China always had a rather mundane purpose. While there had been historical think­ ers who contemplated the general meanings of history, e.g., Liu Zhiji (661-721) and Zhang Xuecheng (1738-1801), most historians, as well as the rulers who were supposedly their primary readers, sought tem ­ poral practical lessons in history. To them, history was a m irror that reflected the present in the past by showing what was presumably to come in the future. Obviously, here the “future” is not a real one, as wished by both the historians and the rulers; it could have occurred in the past. But in actuality, it is a real future in that, although the people hoped it to come in the way shown in the “mirror” as they had prepared for, it often came in a quite different way that surprised them. This “history-mirror” as a form of historical thinking had not only a long origin, but also a far-reaching influence in characterizing the historical consciousness in China. It was largely accountable for the hermeneutic reading of the Chunqiu. Let us first take a look at some early examples of this “history-mir­ ror” analogy. In the Shijing (Book of Odes), for example, King Wen, the founder of the Zhou dynasty, gave a speech to his soldiers in which he proclaimed, “The m irror of Yin is not distant; it is in the generations of the Xia lords.” He warned that although the Yin, or the Shang dy­

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nasty, had replaced the Xia dynasty (twelveth-sixteenth centuries b .c .e .), it did not last forever. The fall of the Shang, or the Yin, was an observ­ able “future” in the mirror. It was also a “future” that was to be avoided by the Zhou. The term for “mirror” also appears in the Shujing (Book o f History) in a sim ilar context. The Duke of Zhou said: “We shall not fail to mir­ ror ourselves in the lords of Xia; we likewise should not fail to mirror ourselves in the lords of Yin.” Again, what has been observed in the past becomes a guide for the people to usher in the future. In the Guoyu (Speeches of the States), an ancient text believed to have been com ­ posed in Confucius’ age, the intrinsic connection between past and fu­ ture in the history m irror was discussed explicitly. The first part of the Guoyu, the “Zhouyu” (Speeches of Zhou) records Prince Jin’s conver­ sation with his father, King Ling, in which the Prince remarks on the use of history: If one investigates the teachings inherited from the former kings and examines their codes of regulations and their criminal laws, and then observes who suc­ ceeded and who was destroyed, then all can be known. Those who succeeded certainly had achievements such as Xia and Lu (that is, Yu and the Ministers of the Four Peaks). Those who were destroyed certainly had failures such as Gong and Kun.39

Here, the examples are both specific and practical. W hile what is men­ tioned all occurred in the past, their significance, or significances, is/ are measured against a current value system used to prepare for the future. In other words, history is not about what happened in the past, but about what the past means to the people. In later ages, this history-mirror metaphor not only defined the pur­ pose of the historian’s work, but also regulated the practice of historiog­ raphy with the help of political reinforcement. The latter connects us to a famous example. In the Song dynasty when the historian Sima Guang (1019-1086) discussed his magnum opus, then entitled Tongzhi (Com­ prehensive record), with Emperor Shenzong, the Emperor decided to change it to Zizhi Tongjian (The Comprehensive M irror for Aid in Gov­ ernment), then narrowed the orientation of the work to a search for use­ ful tactics in government. After its completion, the Zizhi Tongjian provided a comprehensive coverage of the vicissitudes of political change of the previous two thousand years. Linking the past to the present and future, it concretized the value of history and embodied the ideal practice of historiography. This close, intrinsic connection between past, present, and future in

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the history-mirror analogy suggests that history in China was not one­ dimensional, a simple record of what happened. Rather, it was written, read, and interpreted in a multi-dimensional context, or in the “fusion of horizons.”40 W hen the historian worked on a historical period, he was concerned not only with the events and personages in the period, but also with his own time and the impact of his work on the future. In this regard, Confucius was archetypal. M encius offered an authorita­ tive interpretation of Confucius’ making of the Chunqiu: Again the world fell into decay, and principles faded away. Perverse speaking and oppressive deeds waxed rife again. There were instances of ministers who mur­ dered their sovereigns, and of sons who murdered their fathers. Confucius was afraid, and made the Chunqiu. What the Chunqiu contains are matters proper to the sovereign. On this account Confucius said, “Yes. It is the Chunqiu which will make men know me, and it is the Chunqiu which will make men condemn me.”41

It was this strong concern for the future that inspired many Confucians of later ages to regard the Chunqiu as a prototype of historiogra­ phy.42 This concern probably also encouraged many others to read the Chunqiu from a multi-dimensional perspective, adding meanings to the text and offering many interpretations. All of this led to the forma­ tion of the hermeneutic tradition in Chinese historiography. In this tra­ dition, m odem notions like “truth” and “objectivity” were not coupled together. Rather, the historians’ multidimensional concern over past, present, and future determined that, although they meant to deliver the historical truth, they understood that this truth could never be the whole, objective truth, as pursued by nineteenth-century Western historians, but a historical m irror that reflected the past, which was also useful to the present and ideal for the future.

Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Paul Ricoeur, The Reality of the Historical Past (Milwaukee: Marquette Univer­ sity Press, 1984), 1. It was Richard Rorty who posed this question. For a recent discussion, see Herme­ neutics and Truth, ed. Brice Wachterhauser (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1994), especially Wachterhauser’s introduction, 1-24. See “Science as Solidarity,” Objectivity, Relativism, and Truth: Philosophical Papers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), I, 35. Peter Novick, That Noble Dream: The "Objectivity Question ” and the American Historical Profession (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 1. Italics are mine. Burton Watson, Ssu-ma Ch’ien: Grand Historian o f China (New York: Colum­ bia University Press, 1958), 78-79. It is noted that many Western sinologists, as

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6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

171

seen in Historians in China and Japan, have translated Zuozhuan as Zuo Tradi­ tion. From a comparative perspective, John Henderson has examined this hermeneu­ tic tradition. See his Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison ofConfucian and Western Exegesis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991). The Analects o f Confucius, trans. William E. Soothill (New York: Paragon Book Reprint Corp. 1968), 199. Ibid., 407-409. Ibid., 351, 325. Quoted in Sima Qian, ‘Tashigong zixu” (Grand Historian’s own preface), Shiji (Historical records), trans. Burton Watson in his Ssu-ma Ch’ien, 51. The Analects o f Confucius, 839-841, 685, 507-509. “The Organization of Chinese Official Historiography,” Historians o f China and Japan, ed. W. G. Beasley and E. G. Pulleyblank (London: Oxford University Press, 1961), 49. See John Henderson, The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984) and Henry Rosemont, Jr. ed., Explora­ tions in Early Chinese Cosmology (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984). The Analects o f Confucius, 191-192.1 have adjusted the romanization into pinyin. The emphasis is also mine. Han Yu-shan, Elements o f Chinese Historiography (Hollywood: W. M. Hawley, 1955), 1. Zhu Weizheng, Coming out o f the Middle Ages, trans. Ruth Hayhoe (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1990), viii. About the time perception in Chinese historiography, see Nathan Sivin, “Chi­ nese Conception of Time,” Earlham Review, I (1966), 82-92 and Q. Edward Wang, “Time Perception in Ancient Chinese Historiography,” Storia della Storiagrafia, 28 (1995), 69-86. Jaroslav PruSek, “History and Epics in China and in the West,” Chinese History and Literature: Collection o f Studies (Dordrecht, Holland: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1970), 24. Hayden White, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), 5-7. Paul Ricoeur, Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Ac­ tion and Interpretation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 131138. The modem scholar Hu Shi has pointed out in his study of the social origin of the “/?w” (lit. “Confucians”) that as an elite group of the overthrown Shang dy­ nasty (1766-1027 b .c .e .) living in the succeeding Zhou dynasty, they had a strong sense of mission to save and bring messianic hopes to the world. See “Lun Ru” (On Confucians), Hu Shi lunxue jinzhu (Hu Shi’s recent works on scholarship) (Shanghai: Shangwu yin-shu guan, 1936). The Analects o f Confucius, 727. In the Chinese text, “recorder” is actually “5/1/” (historian). Ibid., 751-753. See note 14. Burton Watson, Ssu-ma Ch Hen, 80. Sishu wujing (Four Books and Five Classics), annotated Wu Genyou, (Beijing: Zhongguo youyi chuban gongsi, 1993), 516. Zuozhuan, “Xuan gong, yuannian” (Zuo commentary, first year of Duke Xuan), in Sishu wujing, 436. Also, see Burton Watson’s lengthy comment on this issue,

172

27.

28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

33.

34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42.

Classics and Interpretations The Tso chuan: Selections from China’s Oldest Narrative History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989), 79-80. It would be reasonable to argue that Dong’s parsimonious recording of the inci­ dent resulted partially from his use of the annalistic form, which prevented him from telling the whole story. We can also apply this logic to explain why the Chunqiu contains many “weiyan dayi” (profound principles concealed in subtle language). Steven Van Zoeren, Poetry and Personality: Reading, Exegesis, and Hermeneu­ tics in Traditional China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991), 21-22. Tu Wei-ming, Way, Learning, and Politics: Essays on the Confucian Intellectual (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 7-8. “Late Shang Divination: The Magico-Religious Legacy,” Explorations in Early Chinese Cosmology, ed. Henry Rosemont, 11-34. Analects, Ssu-shu, trans. James Legge (Hong Kong, 1928), 54. The Works o f Mencius, trans. James Legge (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1970), 327. Cheng Chung-ying has written a long article elaborating on the mean­ ing of “yi” in Confucian philosophy, see “On Yi as a Universal Principle of Spe­ cific Application in Confucian Morality,” in his New Dimensions of Confucian and Neo-Confucian Philosophy (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), 233-245. For a summary of this tradition in the Han, see John Henderson, Scripture, Canon, and Commentary; for the Qing, see Benjamin Elman, Classicism, Politics, and Kinship: The CWang-chou School o f New Text Confucianism in Late Imperial China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), and On-cho Ng, “MidCh’ing New Text {chin-wen) Classical Learning and Its Han Provenance: The Dynamics of a Tradition of Ideas,” East Asian History, 8 (Dec. 1994), 1-32. See Sishu wujing, 343. In the Zuozhuan, Confucius is recorded as saying “it should not be the example that a minister summoned his king” “Xi Gong ershiba nian” (The twenty-eighth year of Duke Xi), in Sishu wujing, 410. Chunqiu— Yinggong yuannian, the underlying meaning is discussed in the Zuozhuan. Sishu wujing, 343. Chunqiu— Yinggong sinian, ibid., 346. For scholars’ comments on the Chunqiu’%importance to Confucianism, see John Henderson’s Scripture, Canon, and Commentary, 25-26. Liang Qichao in his Xin shixue (New history) states that one should read the Chunqiu as a classic, not as a history, because of its political connotation. See Liang’s Liang Qichao shixue lunzhu sanzhong (Liang Qichao’s three works on history) (Hong Kong: Sanlian Shudian, 1980), 33. About the “Zhouyu,” see James A. Hart, ‘The Speech of Prince Chin: A Study of Early Chinese Cosmology,” Explorations in Early Chinese Cosmology, 35-65. Hans-Georg Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode, trans. Garrett Barden and John Cumming, Truth and Method (New York, 1984), 273. Mengzi, “Tengwengong” (Mencius: Duke Tengwen), II, trans. James Legge, The Chinese Classics, II, The Works o f Mencius (Hong Kong: 1960), 281-282. Sima Qian, for example, intended to leave his magnum opus, the Shiji, to poster­ ity. In his “Author’s Preface,” he writes that he would leave the original text in a “famous mountain” (mingshan), and a copy in the capital for people of later ages to read.

9 The Way of the Unadorned King: The Politics of Tung Chung-shu’s Hermeneutics Sarah A. Queen O f the many scholars to have interpreted the Spring and Autumn in the long and rich history of scriptural studies from the classical to the contemporary period, Tung Chung-shu was unquestionably one of the most influential. Although he failed to achieve high political office in the central government, the adoption of Confucianism as the orthodox ideology of the Han empire owes much to his penetrating exegesis. Henceforth, the Confucian Canon— though occasionally eclipsed by competing Taoist and Buddhist canons and more fluid than its Western religious counterparts—would occupy a prominent position in the reli­ gious and political life of traditional China. Through his interpretations of the Spring and Autumn Tung Chungshu established a scriptural basis for rulership that would have a last­ ing impact on the Chinese state. By linking the religious authority of Heaven, the textual authority of the Spring and Autumn, and the inter­ pretive authority of the Kung-yang tradition to the political issues of his day, Tung sought to reform the arbitrary exercise of imperial power*I

*

Portions of this article are taken from From Chronicle to Canon: The Hermeneu­ tics o f the Spring and Autumn according to Tung Chung-shu by Sarah A. Queen, copyright 1996 Cambridge University Press, reprinted with permission. I am indebted to Irene Bloom who reviewed an earlier version o f this article and generously contributed her most helpful comments and criticisms. I would also like to thank David McMahon for his insightful reading and editorial assistance.

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that had become widespread during the preceding C h’in dynasty. In doing so, he read into the Spring and Autumn a model of sovereignty that, on the one hand rejected the ruler’s absolute and arbitrary exer­ cise of power, his use of violence, and his exclusive reliance on imper­ sonal laws, and on the other emphasized the ruler’s indebtedness to Heaven, his use of moral persuasion, and his reliance on the transform ­ ing influence of ritual and education. Intimately connected with Tung’s revision of emperorship was a concerted attempt to enhance the powers of the scholar-official. In­ deed, the redefinition of the one necessitated a reformulation of the other. For example, his hermeneutics embodied a critical spirit that would inspire not only his contemporaries, but also later generations of Confucian scholar-officials, particularly in the Sung and C h’ing dynasties, to challenge, reform, and renew the imperial Chinese state. The figure of Confucius, reinvented as the “unadorned king,” occupied center stage in this political drama. Though he lacked the power to reign, Confucius had received the Mandate of Heaven to transform the world. In Tung’s vision of the Spring and Autumn, rendered as “The Way of the Unadorned King,” Confucius embodied the highest ideals of the reform-minded scholar just as his textual legacy defined the pa­ rameters of legitimate rulership. Although beyond the scope of this article, it is important to note that Tung’s interpretations possess contemporary as well as historical sig­ nificance. They speak to current debates concerning the extent to which China can mobilize the cultural and institutional resources from her Confucian heritage to build a m odem economy, polity, and society. They suggest ways in which the Confucian legacy may contribute posi­ tively to ongoing efforts, both within China and the West, to liberalize and modernize China’s political culture. One might ponder whether in the 21st century China might follow the examples of her Asian neigh­ bors in preserving and renewing aspects of Confucian tradition within contemporary life. Given the current ethical and spiritual crisis in the Peoples’ Republic of China, we ought to consider whether the Spring and Autumn might be read anew as a foundation for political reform. Perhaps Confucius, in his reincarnation as an “unadorned king,” might once again provide a model of inspiration for the critical-minded intel­ lectual, and the Confucian scriptures might reemerge as an ethical and spiritual resource in both the individual and the collective life of the Chinese people. W hile these are intriguing questions, in the present essay I will limit my reflections to the political significance of the “Way

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of the Unadorned King” within the Han empire. I will briefly describe how Tung articulated his reformist ideals through his interpretations of the Spring and Autumn. These interpretations may be characterized in terms of six dimensions: the historical, ethical, critical, transforma­ tive, prophetic, and metaphysical. Before exploring Tung’s hermeneu­ tics, a brief introduction to the exoteric features of the Spring and Autumn is in order.

The Spring and Autumn The title Spring and Autumn or Ch’un-ch’iu derived from the sea­ sonal references that marked the passage of tim e in the chronicles com piled by rulers of the various feudal states who served the Chou dynasty betw een the eighth and fifth centuries b .c . e . Though num er­ ous chronicles existed at this tim e, today only the Spring and Autumn from the state of Lu survives. This work records the significant po­ litical events— marriages, deaths, diplom atic meetings, m ilitary cam ­ paigns, and alliances— that occurred during the reigns of twelve dukes of Lu from 722 to 481 b .c .e . A num ber of entries also recount un­ usual natural occurrences, such as droughts, floods, plagues, and eclipses. They are stylistically terse and laconic; the chronicle does not weave them into a narrative account or explain their significance. As W illiam Hung has noted, “The im portant happenings of two and a half centuries are dismissed with only slightly more than sixteen thou­ sand words. The longest entries rarely exceed forty-five words, while the shortest ones consist of only one word” (Ch’i Ssu-ho 1938, 49). Isolated from its original context or herm eneutical circle, the Spring and Autumn appears to be little more than the dry court chronicle of an age long gone by. Yet it is the text’s very reticence that makes it such a fascinating object of inquiry. A literal reading of the text fails to explain why it enjoys such a prom inent place in the history of the Confucian tradition. “We m ust surely admit,” claim ed Burton Watson, “as we scan the dull, dry pages of the old chronicle of Lu that nothing less than a great personality and a great tradition could ever have invested them with the interest and life they have m aintained through two thousand odd years of Chinese civilization” (W atson 1958, 723). Nonetheless, the original setting and purpose of the Spring and Au­ tumn may indicate why it enjoyed a privileged status even after it out­ lived the initial inspiration for its composition. There was from the

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beginning a close connection between historical writing and the reli­ gious dimensions of stately power. Scholars have long recognized that the historian of C hina’s pre-Ch’in civilization, the ta shih or Grand Scribe, was a semi-religious functionary concerned with court divina­ tion, ceremony, and sacrifice, and later became a keeper of detailed, daily chronicles (Watson 1958,71; Hucker 1985,470). Yet even when the historian became absorbed with the task of documenting state af­ fairs, historical writing remained one of the critical instruments link­ ing the religious and political aspects of state power. Jacques Gem et speculates that texts like the Spring and Autumn consist of notices that ritual functionaries originally announced daily, monthly, and yearly, at the ancestral temple to the royal line of the house of Chou (Gemet 1982, 84). This religious dimension of the Spring and Autumn exem­ plifies the ancient Chinese belief that communication between the hu­ man realm and that of Heaven was not only possible but essential to a well governed society. It assured historical texts a special status within Chinese civilization. It is perhaps these religious aspects of the Spring and Autumn coupled with its laconic literary style, which left so much open to suggestion, that prompted Confucian exegetes of the late fourth century to appro­ priate it anew. W hatever the case may have been, by the latter part of the fourth century b .c .e ., interpreters had begun to ascribe esoteric at­ tributes to the text. Despite the shifting political and social circum­ stances of the Warring States period (403-222 b .c .e .), the Spring and Autumn would continue, with its new accretions of meaning, to enjoy a privileged status within the Confucian tradition.

Tung Chung-shu and the Rung-yang Tradition Long before 136 b .c .e ., the year in which Em peror Wu canonized the Spring and Autumn, master-disciple lineages had begun to trans­ form the Spring and Autumn from a terse historical chronicle to a text embodying the highest ideals of the Confucian tradition. Five are known to have arisen and passed on their beliefs through oral transmission: the Kung-yang, Ku-liang, Tso, Tsou, and Chia. W hereas by the Han, Master Tsou’s tradition would decline from a lack of teachers and Master Chia’s lineage from a lack of texts, the Kung-yang, Ku-liang, and Tso traditions would flourish, stimulating some of the most substantial doctrinal, political, cosmological, and legal debates of the Han, as their respective followers competed for imperial patronage within the new

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empire (HS 30:1715). The beliefs and attitudes that pre-Han exegetes of the Kung-yang lineage ascribed to the Spring and Autumn consti­ tuted a body of hallowed concepts codified in the Kung-yang Commen­ tary and transmitted to Tung Chung-shu. Indeed, centuries before the Han dynasty, the Spring and Autumn already had come to embody mat­ ters of the most profound significance. These interpretations came to constitute, albeit in a much more elaborate and self-conscious form, the fundamental beliefs of Tung Chung-shu and other Han exegetes of the Kung-yang Commentary. Philosophical texts from the early fourth to the early second century B.C.E., the Kung-yang Commentary (whose oral antecedents date to the pre-Han era), and Han exegetes’ reflec­ tions on the received tradition allow us to reconstruct an albeit limited account of these early interpretations. We know, for example, that by the tim e of Confucius’ disciple, Tzu-hsia (ca. 507-407 b .c .e .), scholars were already debating the correct interpretations of the text (Juan 1969, 6). The most informative pre-Han comments appear in the Mencius (Meng-tzu), a work of the early fourth century b .c .e . Although the Mencius does not explicitly associate them with the Kung-yang tradi­ tion, Han dynasty scholars of the Kung-yang Commentary would iden­ tify these beliefs and modes of reading the Spring and Autumn as the very heart that sustained the life of their tradition.

The Historical Dimension For Tung Chung-shu and his fellow Kung-yang exegetes, Confucius was no less than the very author of the Spring and Autumn. Early evi­ dence of this distinctive presupposition can be traced to the Mencius, which explains: When the world declined and the Way fell into obscurity, heresies and violence again arose. There were instances of regicides and parricides. Confucius was ap­ prehensive and composed the Spring and Autumn. Strictly speaking, this is the Emperor’s prerogative. That is why Confucius said, “Those who understand me will do so through the Spring and Autumn; those who condemn me will also do so because of the Spring and Autumn.” (Lau 1976, 114)

According to this passage, the Spring and Autumn was authored not by a court historian acting under the auspices of the ruler, but by the most honored of sages, Confucius, inspired by his personal sense of moral outrage. The assertion that Confucius composed, and simply did not transmit, this work came to define Kung-yang interpretations in the early years of the Han. Faced with the imminent collapse of civiliza­

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tion Confucius could do no less than usurp the rights of the ruler. In doing so, Confucius wrote the Spring and Autumn to preserve the Way, which was on the verge o f being lost forever. For Kung-yang scholars, the text embodied Confucius’ attempt to leave behind his account of this all-embracing normative order. Confucius’ creative act of authorship possessed profound and radi­ cal implications. In initiating this work, wherein both the facts and the meaning of history were recorded, Confucius admittedly usurped a prerogative enjoyed only by the highest authority of the land. He thereby challenged the state’s intense and long-standing desire to control and dom inate the writing of history. The sense of moral obligation that compelled Confucius to confront the burdens of historical memory su­ perseded his desire to comply with courtly prohibitions against the pri­ vate creation or compilation of historical writings. With this singular act of creativity Confucius inspired generations of scholars to write with an engaged yet independent voice, to fulfill their role as guardians of historical memory. It is no historical accident that Tung Chung-shu usurped this same prerogative when, no doubt out of a similar sense of moral indignation, he chose to privately compose his Records o f Di­ sasters and Anomalies, a work in which he delineated the ethical im ­ plications of the numerous omens in the Spring and Autumn.

The Ethical Dimension Tung Chung-shu also upheld and greatly expanded the ethical import o f the text through his discussions o f the cardinal Confucian values humaneness (Jen) and righteousness (i). As in the earlier ex­ ample, this vision o f the Spring and Autumn can be traced to the Mencius: The traces of the [former] kings were extinguished and the odes were lost. When the odes were lost, the Spring and Autumn was created (tso). The Sheng of Chin, the T ’ao of Ch’u, and the Spring and Autumn of Lu were the same kind of work. The events recorded concern Duke Huan of Ch’i and Duke Wen of Chin, and the literary form is that of a history. Confucius said, “I have enumerated the ethical principles (i) therein.” (Modified from Lau 1976,131-2)

The term i has generated a number of interpretations over the years. James Legge and Burton Watson render the term as “righteous deci­ sions,” D.C. Lau translates it as “didactic principles,” and Benjamin Wallacker suggests “a sense of justice” (Legge 1960,327; Watson 1958, 76; Lau 1976, 132, and W allacker 1985, 215). David Hall and Roger

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Ames argue that / or “signification” denotes a sense of appropriateness or rightness, stressing the subjective and context-dependent qualities inherent in the term (Hall and Ames 1987, 89-110). Like many other philosophical concepts in Chinese thought, i denotes an ethical orien­ tation that is at once internal and external, personal and universal, im ­ manent and transcendent, subjective and objective, contingent and constant. In fact, within the Confucian tradition it is the very tension between these realms that inspires the moral transformation of self and society. W hile recognizing that the precise meaning of the term is debatable, and Confucius’ relation to the text’s origins is somewhat ambiguous, the passage clearly indicates that history and ethics had become in­ separable. Indeed, one of the unique contributions of the Kung-yang scholars was to link Confucius’ creative act of authorship with this early tendency to place history in the service of ethics. It is well illus­ trated by the purported claims of the sage himself. Confucius said: “If I wish to set forth my theoretical judgments, nothing compares to illus­ trating them through the depth and clarity of actual events” (SC 130:3297). During the Han, scholars like Tung Chung-shu would ex­ hibit this same propensity to elucidate questions of ultimate ethical concern within the context of ordinary human experience. The ways in which Confucius recorded individuals in the Spring and Autumn en­ dowed events with moral significance. This was a central concern of Tung’s exegesis and the fabric out of which he wove a new relationship between the Han emperor and his bureaucracy. The following discussion of humaneness illustrates this point well. Following the Kung-yang Commentary, Tung argued that one’s per­ sonal commitment to humaneness was one of the highest ideals to be realized by an individual. Tung ascribed to a hierarchical view of so­ cial relationships, and he perpetuated the duties and responsibilities defined by the five bonds: ruler-subject, father-son, husband-wife, brother-brother, and friend-friend. However, he did not simply recon­ firm the power of the superior over the subordinate. Complying with the orders of one’s superior was an important principle of the Spring and Autumn, but beyond this duty lay a higher allegiance to hum ane­ ness as a defining characteristic of the loyal servant of the state. W hen confronted with a choice between the two, Tung’s response was unam ­ biguous: “Faced with an opportunity to practice humaneness, do not yield to your commander” (CCFL 2/4b). The importance of this prin­ ciple in Tung’s exegesis, the distinctions he drew between immutable

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(ching) and mutable (pien) norms, and the attention he devoted to the principles of discretion ( chuan) and expediency ( ch’iian) speak to the various ways in which Tung sought to limit the autocratic powers the Han emperors had inherited from their C h’in predecessors while sanc­ tioning greater autonomy and flexibility for the ministers and officers within the Han bureaucracy (Queen 1996,147-158).

The Critical Dimension In the Kung-yang tradition, the text’s sagely origins and profound moral significance endowed the Spring and Autumn with tremendous censorial power. Again, the earliest extant expression of this idea ap­ pears in the Mencius, which equates Confucius’ creation with the great cultural achievements of other sages whose cumulative efforts brought socio-political order to the world: In ancient times Yii controlled the Flood and brought peace to the Empire; the Duke of Chou subjugated the northern and southern barbarians, drove away wild animals, and brought security to the people; Confucius completed the Spring and Autumn and struck terror into the hearts of rebellious subjects and undutiful sons. (Lau 1976, 115)

The Spring and Autumn was nothing short of Confucius’ radical cri­ tique of evil, largely defined in terms of socio-political chaos. The ter­ ror he evoked in the hearts of those who were the worst offenders illustrates the tremendous censorial power with which historical writ­ ing was now endowed. Far from a dispassionate recorder of deeds, Confucius had become the paradigmatic critic, speaking in the ruler’s stead as a self-proclaimed historian. Expanding on this theme by un­ derscoring Confucius’ links to the legal world, Tung Chung-shu ex­ plains: When the Chou declined and Confucius was employed as the Minister of Crime in the state of Lu, the feudal lords attacked him while the great officers obstructed him. Confucius knew that his words were not heeded and that the Way was not realized. Thereupon he passed judgment on the preceding two hundred and fortytwo years, setting out a standard for all-under-Heaven. He criticized the Son of Heaven, scrutinized the feudal lords, admonished the great officers, in order to illuminate the affairs of the [true] king. (SC 130:3297)

Unable to rely on his official position as M inister of Crime to effect a return to the Way, Confucius turned to unofficial avenues. Not only were the subjects of the realm legitimate objects of the sage’s piercing judgments, but the Son of Heaven was also brought under his critical

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purview. Thus, through this reinvention of Confucius, Tung Chungshu sought to expand the censorial powers of Han officials beyond those officially sanctioned by the state. The method by which Confucius set forth his judgm ents was not a straightforward one. W hether as an “unadorned king,” who possessed the moral character befitting a ruler without the corresponding posi­ tion, or as a M inister of Crime who possessed the official position but lacked the power to effect a return to the Way, Confucius was com ­ pelled to disguise his message in “an esoteric language which embod­ ied ultimate principles (wei yen ta i).” The earliest explication of these ethical principles and moral judgments survives in the Kung-yang Com­ mentary. Originally an oral tradition passed on from teacher to disciple for some three hundred years before the Han, it was probably recorded on bamboo strips in the Western Han during the reign of Emperor Ching (156-141 b .c .e .) by the C h’i scholar Hu-wuTzu-tu. (For discussions of the oral tradition see C h’ien Mu 1956, 86, and M almqvist 1971, 67222.) According to the tradition, Confucius adopted several techniques to indicate his praise or criticism. Chief among them, as Burton Watson has pointed out, were his choice of material, the order of presentation, or the particular wording of a passage (Watson 1958,78). Only a care­ ful and detailed reading of these subtleties would reveal the hidden judgments Confucius bequeathed to a future sage who would bring salvation to the world. Thus, sentence by sentence, phrase by phrase, word by word, the Kung-yang Commentary decodes these linguistic clues to Confucius’ judgments and uncovers the moral significance of each event. In the years following the birth of the Han Empire, Tung Chung-shu drew on this approach to establish a comprehensive and consistent vi­ sion of the Spring and Autumn. He derived more general principles of exegesis from specific interpretive passages in the Kung-yang Com­ mentary, harmonized contradictions, and drew analogies to contempo­ rary concerns. In this respect, Tung transformed pre-Han approaches to the Spring and Autumn in several significant ways. It is characteris­ tic of the Kung-yang Commentary that the explanations in its various entries are independent units of interpretation: each stands alone with­ out reference to similar judgm ents found elsewhere. Although specific exceptions to general principles are mentioned, they are not derived from a cumulative reading of similar cases within the text but instead stand outside of the text as a set of accepted exegetical principles. In contrast, Tung Chung-shu approached the text cumulatively, consider­

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ing several entries in relation to one another. By comparing and con­ trasting its various entries, he categorized and catalogued Confucius’ judgments, thereby deriving precedents and principles applicable to the legal and ritual reforms he hoped to institute. Indeed he argued that Confucius’ rulings followed a consistent methodology despite the ap­ parent exceptions within the text. This claim of consistency was criti­ cal to his argument that the legal and ritual practices of the Han polity must follow the precedents and precepts of the Spring and Autumn. Tung Chung-shu further claimed that Confucius’judgments embod­ ied moral principles ultimately derived from Heaven. In doing so, Tung was the first to make explicit and central a moral metaphysics which was at best only implicit and marginal in pre-Han interpretations. He opines: “To love goodness and loathe evil, to cherish honor and de­ spise dishonor, these are not qualities that human beings are able to generate on their own. These are the conferments of Heaven within them. [Therefore] Confucius judged human beings according to these Heavenly conferments within human beings” (CCFL 2:7a). Tung viewed these conferments as “the righteous principles of the Spring and Au­ tumn (ch ’un-ch ’iu chih /).” He and his disciples worked out an elabo­ rate system that teased out these presum ptive principles left by Confucius. For example, they interpreted the Spring and Autumn as an authori­ tative code of ethical principles, arguing that Confucius’ judgments expressed fundamental and eternal norms that could be applied, through analogy, to specific legal cases at hand. Unwilling to simply accept and perpetuate the harsh laws of the C h’in, they approached the Spring and Autumn with the Kung-yang Commentary as a compendium of moral principles intended to provide an alternative normative code for soci­ ety. They argued that, unlike C h’in legal practitioners, Confucius judged guilt and innocence based on a constellation of concerns that went be­ yond conduct. He considered such issues as motivation, circumstance, and the conflicting claims of different ethical norms and obligations, and employed criteria such as intent, discretion, and expediency to ar­ rive at his rulings (Queen 1996,135-158). The following example from Tung’s legal work “Deciding Court Cases According to the Spring and Autumn” ( Tung Chung-shu ch’un-ch’iu chueh-yii) illustrates well his insistence that an emphasis on motive defined Confucius’ modus operandi. The case begins with the following brief summation and query. “B, A’s father, and C had an argument and fought one another. C took

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his belt-knife and stabbed B. Thereupon A took a stick to strike C and accidentally wounded B (his father). How should A be judged?” An anonymous opinion follows: “A beat his father. The case warrants that he be executed and his head exposed.” This ruling holds that the stat­ utes germane to a son beating a father provide sufficient grounds for judging the case. Tung, however, disagrees: I humbly submit that the [relationship between] father and son is the most intimate [of all human relationships]. There is no son who upon hearing that his father is fighting, is not stricken with fright. A took up the stick to save B. He did not do so with the desire to abuse his father. A righteous principle of the Spring and Autumn [is provided by the following example]. Chih’s father was ill. Chih gave him medi­ cine and his father died. The superior man [Confucius] [considered] his original intention, pardoning him without punishment. A’s case does not correspond to what the statutes define as “beating one’s father” and does not warrant adjudica­ tion. (Ma 31:2b-3a)

Tung’s opinion reflects a more complicated reading of the case. The act of “wounding” must be considered in light of all the facts and cir­ cumstances, in particular, the intentions of the accused. The facts of the case show that the son intended to save his father by attacking a third party but instead wounded him. We know that this is so, at least according to Tung Chung-shu, because each human relationship pos­ sesses corresponding emotions. The facts of the case as well state that it was an accident. Moreover, the Spring and Autumn provides the rel­ evant precedent. The parallel is self evident. The son Chih, like son A, intended to save his father but failed to do so. Since Confucius par­ doned Chih, Tung concludes, the judge in this case should likewise pardon A. Tung and his disciples also read the Spring and Autumn as a code of ceremonial regulations. This approach was inspired by I\ing Chungshu’s desire to reform the religious practices and institutions of the Han state. Paralleling his approach to legal matters, he isolated pas­ sages in the Kung-yang Commentary where Confucius passed judg­ ment on specific ritual prescriptions and interpreted these as models to guide the formation of state liturgy. Tung’s discussion o f the ancient rite the Chiao, or Suburban Sacrifice, illustrates well how his reinter­ pretation of text and re-invention of rulership coincided in his writings on the Spring and Autumn. He explains: Heaven is the great overlord of the numerous spirits. If you are not prepared to serve Heaven then even the assistance of one hundred spirits will not bring advan­

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tage. How do I know that this is so? When the rulers did not sacrifice to Heaven but sacrificed to the other spirits, the Spring and Autumn criticized this. Confucius said: ‘If you commit a crime against Heaven, there is no one to whom you can pray.’ This was his rule. This is why we never saw the Ch’in rulers receive Heaven’s blessings as did the Chou. (CCFL 15: 2a.5-2a.8)

Here Tung argues that the C h’in dynasty failed because its rulers did not serve Heaven properly. The lesson to be learned is that Han rulers could reestablish the proper relationship with Heaven by following the Spring and Autumn, wherein Confucius enumerated the ritual program befitting a king: the necessary rites, their schedules of performance and hierarchical interrelationship. In stressing the ritual authority of the Spring and Autumn, Tung constructed a vision of rulership where the religious life of the sovereign was absolutely central. In stressing the Suburban Sacrifice over other rites, he emphasized the primacy of Heaven and the ruler’s ultimate obligations to this supreme power.

The Transformative Dimension Drawing on earlier exegetes, Tung and his disciples expanded yet another attribute associated with the Spring and Autumn: its transfor­ mative power, particularly in the realm of politics. An anonymous in­ terpreter cited in the Kung-yang Commentary states: “For restoring order in chaotic times and effecting a return to what is correct, nothing comes closer than the Spring and Autumn” {Kung-yang Commentary to Duke Ai 14.1). Tzu-hsia, an important pre-Han interpreter, was renowned for his ability to use the text as a guide to eradicate calamities within his state (Han-fei-tzu suo-yin 34-2-3: 813). The Han-fei-tzu explains: “The possibility of removing calamities is revealed in Tzu-hsia’s ex­ planation of the Spring and Autumn, ‘Who is skillful in maintaining his position of power, early on nips an evil in the bud’” {Han-fei-tzu suo-yin 34-2-8:813). Another quotation from the same text elucidates the reasoning behind this approach toward evil. Tzu-hsia states: “The instances of regicides and parricides recorded in the Spring and Au­ tumn are numerous. None of these events were the outcome of a single day, they came about gradually” {Han-fei-tzu suo-yin 34-9-1:814). Kung-yang exegetes of the Han reaffirmed this belief in the latent power of the Spring and Autumn to establish political order and stability. Ac­ cording to Tung Chung-shu’s Luxuriant Gems o f the Spring and Au­ tumn {Ch ’un-ch ’iufan-lu), Tzu-hsia described the political applications of the text in the following way:

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The ruler of the state must not fail to study the Spring and Autumn. If he does not study the Spring and Autumn he will have no means to observe the dangers around him, and will not understand the state’s great handle of authority or the chief responsibilities of the ruler. (CCFL 6:3b-4a.)

It was, in fact, Tung Chung-shu who imbued this political dimension of the text with a metaphysical underpinning by linking the transfor­ mative aspect of Confucius’ criticisms in the human realm to the work­ ings of Heaven above. In doing so, Tung gave fuller expression to the divine aspects of Confucius’ moral mission to restore political order implicit in the earlier Analects. In a long passage from the Luxuriant Gems o f the Spring and Autumn describing the decline of the Chou polity and the consequent breakdown of political order witnessed by Confucius, Tung Chung-shu writes: The powerful overcame the weak, the majority violated the minority, and the rich bullied the poor. These tendencies multiplied without end. Subordinates usurped the authority of their superiors and their superiors could not stop them. There were solar eclipses, shooting stars, locusts, and landslides. Heavy rains fell in summer; in winter, heavy snows....The Spring and Autumn considered these events to be anomalous and employed them to reveal the incipient stirrings of chaos. Confucius illuminated successes and failures and the distinctions between the honorable and dishonorable to return to the fundamentals of the kingly way. He criticized the Heavenly King to bring about Grand Peace. He condemned evil, criticizing its slightest manifestation, no matter how small. There was no instance of goodness too small to praise and no instance of evil to minor to eradicate. He promoted goodness and condemned evil. He simply desired to cut it off at the root and nothing more. (CCFL 4:2b-3a)

Here again Confucius exemplifies the model censor willing to ques­ tion the highest authority in the land to promote goodness and eradi­ cate evil and thereby bring about the age of Grand Peace. Tung Chung-shu expanded the transformative power of Confucian scripture in yet another sense as well. He argued that it was not unique to the Spring and Autumn, but a defining characteristic of all six Con­ fucian scriptures: The noble man [Confucius] knew that those who occupy positions [of authority] cannot rely on evil [measures] to win the people’s submission. Therefore he se­ lected the Six Arts to aid and nourish them. The Odes and Documents order their intentions; the Rites and Music purify their [inner] goodness; and the Changes and the Spring and Autumn illuminate their understanding. These six forms of learn­ ing are great indeed and each possesses its particular strength. The Odes guide intentions; consequently it strengthens one’s inner substance. The Rites moderate conduct; consequently it strengthens one’s outer refinement. The Music praises virtue; consequently it strengthens transformation through moral suasion. The

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Documents record meritorious deeds; consequently it strengthens administrative affairs. The Changes is based on Heaven and Earth; consequently it strengthens astronomical calculations. The Spring and Autumn rectifies right and wrong; con­ sequently it strengthens human governance. (CCFL l:8b-9a)

In fact, one might argue that it was this optimistic belief in the unlim ­ ited transformative powers of these texts that lent them scriptural sta­ tus within the Kung-yang tradition. Thus, although Tung Chung-shu emphasized the transformative power of the Spring and Autumn, he did not isolate this attribute from those identified with other Confucian scriptures. Each of the six excelled at developing a particular virtue, but all were equal; when taken as a whole, they ordered the totality of human existence.

The Prophetic Dimension During the Han this belief in the transformative power of the Spring and Autumn inspired Kung-yang exegetes to develop Tzu-hsia’s inter­ pretations in new ways. Perhaps in an attempt to distinguish their en­ deavors from those of the esoteric masters with whom they competed at the court of Emperor Wu, perhaps in response to the great appeal that divination held for the emperor, Kung-yang scholars like Tung Chung-shu breathed prophetic life into the text. The scholar’s prophetic role should be understood not only as the predictor of future events but also as commentator on contemporary issues. Both aspects derive from the scholar’s understanding of the Heavenly truths embodied in Con­ fucian scriptures. In this sense we may appropriate the term “prophetic” insofar as it connotes the scholar’s capacity to speak on Heaven’s be­ half. As predictor of future events, the Confucian scholar relied not on the tortoise shell or milfoil stalk, but rather on the careful scrutiny of the past. Tung Chung-shu writes, “The ancients had a saying: ‘If you do not know what the future will bring, observe what has passed.’As a discipline to be studied, the Spring and Autumn informs us of what has passed to illuminate what the future will bring” (CCFL 3 :10a.7). Tung Chung-shu further explains: The Spring and Autumn records the successes and failures of all-under-Heaven. It reveals what causes some to succeed and others to fail. Although the causes are extremely subtle, they are nonetheless apparent; although they are not always re­ corded in the text, they are nonetheless explained. One must not fail to examine this. Now, Mount T ’ai is quite large, but if you do not observe it, you will not see

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it. How much more is this the case of those things that are quite subtle. Therefore, examine the Spring and Autumn and compare the past events that it describes; carefully deduce the origins of events and observe their causes....The causes of events are quite near to human beings. Is it possible not to contemplate them? (CCFL 2:4b)

The ruler could ensure the future of his dynasty by relying on scholars who had mastered the Spring and Autumn, and thereby embody, through their guidance, those principles and practices that led to success and avoid those that led to disaster. In the hands of Han exegetes like Tung Chung-shu, the Spring and Autumn became a powerful “divinatory” tool, as persuasive as those wielded by his courtly competitors. History had become a m irror capable of reflecting the future as well as the past.

The Metaphysical Dimension Perhaps the most creative and indelible m ark that Tung Chung-shu left on the Kung-yang tradition, as suggested above, was in the realm of metaphysics. Here Tung related the Spring and Autumn to the inter­ active aspects of Heaven and humanity. He explains to Emperor Wu, “I have carefully studied the Spring and Autumn and examined the events of past ages to observe the realm of mutual interaction between Heaven and humanity. It is truly worthy of awe” (HS 56:2498). With the theory of interactive cosmology now linked to his scriptural interpretations, Tung sought to close the gap between the ideals of cosmic restraint and the realities of Han political rule. The following passage is a striking illustration of this approach: When Confucius composed the Spring and Autumn, he planned it with regard to the Way of Heaven above and substantiated it with regard to the sentiments of humanity below. He compared it to ancient practices and tested it against the present. Therefore, that which the Spring and Autumn condemns is that which suffers anoma­ lies. That which the Spring and Autumn despises is that which encounters disas­ ters. Confucius recorded the faults of the states and related them to various anomalous and disastrous transformations to demonstrate that no matter how good or how evil, the actions of human beings pervade and penetrate Heaven and Earth, and past and future respond to one another. (HS 56:2515)

The Spring and Autumn embodied cosmic truths presented in light of both the dynamic circumstances of human rule and the changing con­ texts of human relationships. It was, however, necessary to read the Spring and Autumn in a particular way so that these links would be­ come evident. Tung explains:

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The way of the Spring and Autumn is to cite the past to illuminate the future. For this reason, when there is an affair below Heaven, observe which events cited by the Spring and Autumn are comparable; find the essence of their subtleties and mysteries to preserve the Spring and Autumn's intent; and ascertain its classifica­ tions and categories to thread together its inner principles. The transformations of Heaven and Earth and events within the state will then all become brilliantly clear and there will be nothing left to doubt. (HS 27A: 1331)

One must reason analogically to clarify the relationship between the Heavenly and human realms which lay encrypted in the text. Signifi­ cantly, Tung argues, Heaven’s irregularities had important political implications: When a state is about to suffer a defeat because [the ruler] has erred from the proper path, Heaven then first sends forth anomalies and disasters to reprimand and warn him. If the [ruler] does not know to look into himself, then Heaven again sends forth extraordinary and strange signs to frighten and startle him. If he still does not know to change, only then will ruin and defeat come to him. From this one observes that Heaven’s heart is humane and loving toward the peoples’ ruler and that Heaven desires to keep him from chaos. During those ages when there is no great loss of proper principles, Heaven still desires to support and secure him. His task is simply to exert himself. He must make efforts to learn and inquire, and then what he hears and sees will be pervasive and his knowledge will become increasingly enlightened. He must make efforts to practice the proper principles, and then his virtue will increase daily and he will be in possession of great achieve­ ments. These efforts will enable him to quickly achieve results. The Odes state: “From dawn to dusk without cease.” The Documents state: “Make the effort. Make the effort.” Both are references to exerting oneself. (HS 56:2498-9)

Tung subordinates the ruler to a personal Heaven which responds to the dynamic circumstances of his rule. Heaven, which possesses the anthropomorphic quality of a “humane heart,” purposely manifests its disapproval. Alerted to the fact that he has strayed from proper prin­ ciples, the ruler must rectify his thought and conduct. If he fails to do so, Heaven’s anomalies grow correspondingly more significant and awe­ some. Even so, Heaven does not abandon the ruler for his transgres­ sions. The interrelation of Heaven and ruler is not that of Otto’s “wholly other” to human “creature”; rather, it is that of father to son. If ruin and defeat should ultimately visit the ruler, they are the consequence of his own all-too-human actions, not the outcome of divine wrath. Thus, according to Tung, the many calamities recorded in the Spring and Autumn were not accidental but were signs sent from Heaven who con­ stantly watched over the ruler and judged his actions. In this respect, the text was a model by which the ruler’s ability to conform or deviate from Heaven’s norms could be judged. One last example illustrates how Tung applied this interactive cos-

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mology to the Spring and Autumn. One passage records: “In the third year of Duke C h’eng, in the second month, the newly erected temple caught fire.” The corresponding entry in the Kung-yang Commentary states: “The newly erected temple caught fire. Why was this entry made? In order to record a calamity.” Tung Chung-shu, however, augments the Kung-yang Commentary with the following analysis: Duke Ch’eng lacked the distressed and sorrowful heart proper to one still in mourn­ ing, and had several times raised troops and engaged in military expeditions. Thus Heaven destroyed his father’s temple in order to show him that he had abandoned the principles proper to a son, and was incapable of offering sacrifices in the an­ cestral temple. (HS 27A:1324)

The Spring and Autumn simply records that a particular duke erected a temple and it caught fire. The original text does not explain why the duke built this temple or what function it served. The Kung-yang Com­ mentary does not supply much additional information other than the opinion that this event was calamitous. Tung, however, reads an elabo­ rate ethical and religious lesson into the event. He claims that the duke erected the temple when his father died and that the duke was obli­ gated, as religious custom dictated, to mourn and offer sacrifices to his deceased father there. But the duke had failed to do so, and his active involvement in military campaigns demonstrated that he was emotion­ ally distant from his father’s death. Consequently, both the duke’s atti­ tude and conduct brought about the direct intervention of Heaven. Heaven deliberately caused the temple to be burned to show the duke he had failed to honor his father and follow correct religious practice. Emperor Wu could hardly overlook the contemporary relevance of Duke Ch’eng. These passages most clearly exemplify Tung’s ambitious yet some­ what ambiguous attempts to reform the institution of emperorship. The political circumstances of his times compelled Tung Chung-shu to ad­ dress, among other pressing political issues of his day, two conflicting legacies of the earlier Ch’in dynasty. On the one hand, the rise and fall of the Ch’in within the brief span of fifteen years underscored the press­ ing need for a ruler who possessed sufficient authority and power to maintain political stability. Moreover, the rebellious conduct of impe­ rial relatives enfeoffed as kings, to whom the early Han rulers had del­ egated power, served as a more recent rem inder of the need for a strong political center. On the other hand, the tremendous concentration of authority and power in the hands of the earlier C h’in rulers, and the

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political abuses it fostered, required that the ruler share them with the scholar-officials that comprised his vast bureaucracy. Accordingly, Tung’s exegesis reflected these conflicting political agendas. For ex­ ample, although he utilized the Spring and Autumn to criticize Em­ peror W u’s activist policies on numerous occasions, Tung did not use its great moral authority to curb the inherent prestige of the throne. W hile he labored to establish a scriptural basis for imperial sovereignty that would limit the emperor’s powers, Tung also drew upon the Confucian scriptures to sanction and amplify the ruler’s revered position as a “cosmic pivot,” responsible for aligning the human realm with the moral patterns of the cosmos.

Conclusion: The Scriptural Basis of Imperial Sovereignty Tung Chung-shu’s recasting of emperorship gave rise to new pat­ terns of political authority and power that came to define the tradi­ tional state. Since he articulated this ideal in his commentaries on and interpretations of the Confucian scriptures, the re-invention of impe­ rial sovereignty witnessed the concomitant re-creation of the Confu­ cian textual tradition. Tung’s efforts to establish a position of prominence and influence for Confucian scripture within the unified Han empire prompted the exclusion of other teachings and the establishment of a Confucian canon. The institutional expressions of Tung’s interpreta­ tions may be found in the designation of official posts known as the “Erudites of the Five Scriptures” in 136 B.C.E., and the establishment of the Imperial University in 124 b .c .e ., wherein students were required to master these texts as a basic prerequisite for training in the polity. Although change was not readily apparent during Emperor W u’s reign, Tung’s efforts to reform the ritual and legal practices of the state created an enduring legacy. During the later years of the Han dynasty, imperial rites and sacrifices gradually moved away from C h’in prac­ tices and toward the religious ideals Tung ascribed to the Spring and Autumn. For example, in 31 b .c .e . the emperor abolished the C h’in practice of worshipping a group of five deities and established an im­ perial cult of Heaven. This form of worship persisted until the end of the imperial age in 1911. Yet without institutional checks and balances to lim it the ruler’s authority and to hold him accountable to the ethical standards of Heaven, this impressive rite could easily devolve into empty symbolism. Tung’s legal interpretations of the Spring and Autumn influenced

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the practice of traditional Chinese jurisprudence in significant ways. During the Han dynasty a wide variety of officials adopted his mode of citing the Spring and Autumn as both a code of ethical principles and book of legal precedents. Thereafter, it becam e standard legal practice to cite the Spring and Autumn as an authoritative source. Tung’s new readings of the Spring and Autumn liberalized the legal corpus with its harsh punishm ents inherited from the C h’in. M ore often than not, precedents from the Spring and Autumn as established by Tung Chung-shu and his disciples were employed as a m odel for leniency, and they provided adm inistrators with the means to hum an­ ize the cruel and impersonal laws of the C h’in. Tung’s reading of the Spring and Autumn injected a new m orality into Han legal practices. His interpretations were crucial because the ruler, the highest judge in the empire, came to rely on this new source of authority as prob­ lem atic legal cases were brought before him. Although Tung’s inter­ pretations served to hum anize the legal functions of the state, they never replaced the C h’in laws. The C h’in legal code survived the Han largely intact, persisting with only m inor changes throughout the tra­ ditional period. Traditional Chinese law rem ained cruel and perem p­ tory. The metaphysical ideas Tung Chung-shu associated with the Spring and Autumn also influenced Han politics in conflicting ways. Building on earlier scholars, like Lu Chia and Chia I, Tung helped establish a Heaven-centered mode of political criticism, providing opportunities for officials to censure the emperor through their interpretation o f omens. Thus, omenology becam e a powerful political weapon during the Han and persisted as a traditional form of political dialogue be­ tween the emperor and his officials. Yet, while Tung Chung-shu cited inauspicious omens to reproach the emperor, and consequently estab­ lished an enduring and potent form of political dissent within the tradi­ tional Chinese state, in the hands of career-minded officials, omenology could degenerate into a tool for self-aggrandizement. In depicting the ruler as high-priest and sage-king, Tung Chung-shu emphasized that the emperor must subject him self to Heaven’s author­ ity. As high-priest, the emperor was to enact the rites to Heaven. As sage-king, the emperor was to embody Heaven’s virtue in the human realm. In both respects, he was bound to adhere to, exemplify, and perpetuate these ideals and standards as set forth in the Confucian scrip­ tures. As guardian, transmitter, and interpreter of this wisdom, the Con­ fucian official’s function as scholar-priest paralleled the dual function

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of the emperor. Insofar as the new religious ideology of imperial rule envisioned an emperor who ruled by virtue of Confucius’ wisdom, the emperor was dependent on the scholar-priest to legitimate his actions and policies. Yet, by reconfirming the powers of “church” and state in the figure of the emperor, Tung’s attempts to limit the ruler’s power gave rise to new opportunities for abuse and new forms of tension. The scholar-priest class endeavored to restrain the emperor through its in­ terpretation of Heaven’s will and the truths of the canon. Conversely, the emperor sanctioned his own actions by drawing upon the prestige of the throne, which derived newfound authority from the scriptural truths it now symbolized. W ithout institutional religious structures in­ dependent of the em peror’s authority, the ability of the scholar-priest to act as an autonomous critic could be severely limited when a strongminded emperor ascended the throne. Thus, the Confucian scriptures, with their powerful, paradoxical legacy, were established as a perm a­ nent feature of the traditional Chinese state.

References CCFL. See Tung Chung-shu. Ch’i Ssu-ho. “Professor Hung on the Ch’un-ch’iu.” Yenching Journal of Social Stud­ ies I no. 1 1938, 49-71. Ch’ien Mu Hsien-Ch’in chu-tzu hsi-nien -p Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1956. Chou Chung-ling Jig M M, Shih Hsiao-shih ® , and Hsu Wei-hsien f*F fg M, comps, and eds. Han-fei-tzu suo-yin ^ ? I- Peking: Chung-hua shu-chii 1982. Gemet, Jacques. A History of Chinese Civilization. Trans. J. R. Foster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. HS. See Pan Ku. Hall, David, and Roger Ames. Thinking Through Confucius. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987. Hucker, Charles, O. A Dictionary o f Official Titles in Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985. Juan Chih-sheng Ts’ung Kung-yang-hsiieh lun ch’un-ch’iu te hsing-chih $£ Taipei: Taiwan University, 1969. Knoblock, John. Xunzi: A Translation and Study o f the Complete Works, vol. I, books 1-6. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988. Lau, D. C., trans. Mencius. New York: Penguin Books, 1976. Legge, James, trans., The Chinese Classics, 7 Vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1893 (1960 reprint). Malmqvist, Goran, “Studies on the Gongyang and Guliang Commentaries I.” Bulle­ tin o f the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 43 (1971), 67-222. Meng-tzu Harvard-Yenching Institute Sinological Index Series (HYISIS) ed. Pan Ku i f @. Han-shu y|§ ^ (HS). Commentary by Yen Shih-ku H (jjiji i±f. Peking: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1985.

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Queen, Sarah A. From Chronicle to Canon: The Hermeneutics o f the Spring and Autumn according to Tung Chung-shu. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. SC. See Ssu-ma Ch’ien. Ssu-ma Ch’ien 1 ] f t 8 - Shih-chi j £ f £ (SC). Commentaries by P’ei Yin HIS, Ssuma Chen W] f t ^ ( T ’ang), and Chang Shou-chieh (T’ang). Peking: Chung-hua shu-chti, 1959. Tung Chung-shu J r Ch ’ un-ch ’iufan-lu ^ 51B (CCFL), Ssu-pu ts’ung k ’an H oBIxfy edition. Shanghai: Commercial Press, 1929. —. Ch’un-ch’iu chueh-yii. In Ma Kuo-han ,f§ H comp., Yu-han shan-fang chi ishu, vol. 31. Chang-sha: Lung Hua Kuan edition, 1883. Wallacker, Benjamin E. “The Spring and Autumn Annals as a Source of Law in Han China.” Journal o f Chinese Studies, vol. 2, no. 1 (April, 1985), 59-72. Watson, Burton. Ssu-ma Ch’ien Grand Historian o f China. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.

10 Chinese Hermeneutics as Politics: The Sung Debates over the Mencius Chiin-chieh Huang T h is essay is a historical exploration of the profoundly pragmatic char­ acter of Confucian scholarship, via a description of the Sung (9601279 c .E .) Confucians’ hermeneutical debates over the Mencius. Scholarly debates in Confucianism are themselves political wranglings over legitimation of political institutions, policy decisions, and their implementation. Such a phenomenon has rarely been seen elsewhere in the world. This essay has three sections. Section A specifies why the Menciuscontroversies took place in the Sung era, and the four causes that cata­ pulted the Mencius into the center of a storm of debates in the Sung period. Section B details what the debates were about, the contents and processes of these Mencius-controversies between the pro-Mencius scholar-officials and the anti-Mencians. Section C concludes with some novel implications on Chinese hermeneutics as politics.

A. Why the Mencius-Controversies To begin with, we must ask three questions concerning the histori­ cal background and significance of the Sung debates over the Mencius. (i) Why did the Sung scholar-officials debate the Mencius, and not any other writings? (ii) Why did the debates occur specifically during the Sung period? (iii) What significance did such a seemingly pure schol­ arly debate have for concrete political life? The first two questions ask 195

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for causes for the M encius debates; the last one, when answered, con­ stitutes their result. The first two questions— why the debates over the Mencius and why in the Sung period— can be answered together by four historical causes, as follows: (a) the canonization of the Mencius in the Sung period; (b) the historical situation between M encius’ time and the Sung period; (c) the M encian ideal of populism becoming the yearning target of Sung Confucians living under difficult times, and, most importantly; (d) Wang An-shih’s adoption of the Mencius as basis for his New Reform move­ ment. It was during the period of Sung dynasty that the Mencius came to be canonized as one of the noteworthy Classics. Four events contrib­ uted to the canonization of the Mencius. Emperor Chen Tsung of Sung r. 997-1021) showed respect for the Mencius by ordering a com­ mentary on it to be written, and Sun Shih 962-1033) wrote Meng Tzu Ym-i e f IS ) in 1014. Then Emperor Jen Tsung ( { “ t h , r. 10221063) of Northern Sung had a stone tablet erected (1061), on which was carved the Mencius with other eight standard Classics, which raised the status of the Mencius up to that of the classic.1Then on June 29 of 1084, Emperor Shen Tsung r. 1067-1084) of Northern Sung cel­ ebrated Mencius in the Confucian temple.2From then on, Mencius drew attention among scholars who wrote on Mencius, both pro and con. Chu Hsi ( Hui -an 1130-1200) came to adopt the Mencius and compiled the “Four Books” with the other three classics— the Analects, Great Learning, and Doctrine o f the Mean. Finally, in 1313, Emperor Jen Tsung ( {2% ) of Yuan (r. 1311-19) adopted Chu H si’s Ssu Shu Chang Chii Chi Chu (Collected commentaries on the Four Books) as a standard text out of which questions were produced for the state examinations.3From that time on, the Mencius became one of the “must reads” along with the other three classics. Formerly the celebrated phrase was “Chou, K’ung”; now people said, “K’ung, Meng,” indicat­ ing that M encius was now next in status to Confucius. The canonization provoked two scholarly phenomena concerning the Mencius: first, the book was now paid special scholarly attention as one of the Classics. Yet, secondly, “attention” meant not just venera­ tion; but also critiques, sometimes quite vehement. Peculiar to the Mencius or not, critical attention to the Classics was not unheard of in China; the Classics were merely “noteworthy,” not always uncondi­ tionally revered. In any case, it was thus that the period of Sung was

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the period during which the Mencius came to be debated over among Confucian scholar-officials.4 The book of Mencius drew critical attention among the Sung schol­ ars because the situation which provoked M encius to write was paral­ lel to the situation of the scholar-officials in the Sung period. These two situations were both characterized by the intolerable suffering of people under political oppression. M encius’ situation of popular miseries in the latter part of the War­ ring States Period (463-222 b .c .e .) was due to three factors: First, short­ sighted feudal profiteering was so widespread that the Mencius opened with a discussion of the distinction between /-rightness (sharing) and //-profit (hoarding).5 Secondly, there was rampant political misman­ agement. M encius described the situation thus: those rulers “robbed their people Of their right seasons, rendering them unable to till the lands to care for their parents, who starve in freezing cold, and brothers and families were scattered.” (1A5) Finally, rulers of his days were all addicted to continual warfare for cities and lands, for which people lay dead and rotting in the fields (1A6). Although M encius’ situation of popular miseries did not completely parallel the Sung situation, the following political situation in North­ ern Sung was noteworthy: centralization of political power in the im­ perial court,6 accompanied by the weakening of powers of the prime ministers,7 strengthening of the security and espionage network,8and promotion of literary debates as means of consultation concerning poli­ cies. These developments contributed to the weakening of the military and invited invasions of nomadic people living in marginal territories. The suffering of the people was the root of M encius’ passionate ideal of populism, and people-centered government. It was natural, then, that centralization of power during the Sung dynasty strongly reminded the scholar-officials of M encian ideals, over which they could not help but debate. The topics discussed among concerned scholar-officials were typically the mode of government (royalism and its legitimation), le­ gitimation of policies that made people miserable, etc. For those scholarofficials were caught in two incompatible worlds: they were subjects at the imperial court of political reality, while they yearned after the ideal world of popular happiness. These were at the core of M encius’ writing, and so M encius’ ideas— wang-pa distinction, ruler-ruled rela­ tion, etc.— naturally came into debates as part of possible forms of government.

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Specifically, Wang An-shih (z E A S * 1021-1086), an avid reader and follower of Mencius, used M encius’ ideas and ideals as the basis for his Reform movement, and used his high position in the court to pro­ mote M encius on every possible occasion.9 Such a “one-sided favorit­ ism ” of Mencius naturally provoked an anti-Mencius backlash among W ang’s opponents. Debates over the Mencius ensued. These debates had concrete political impact on policy decisions and implementation, such as on W ang’s Reform movement. Furthermore, the impact went beyond such a piecemeal ad hoc manner. It went to the very root of political institutions and the manner of governance as such— royalism or populism, true king or hegemony, the ruler-ruled relation being relative or absolute. Those conscientious scholar-offi­ cials, even among the royalists, may have hoped to admonish the monarchs, on imperial treatment of the populace, more or less tacitly via these seemingly innocent scholarly debates over the Classics.10 One must admit that this was something unheard of in the West. We have yet to hear of canonization of Thomistic ideas provoking more critical controversies over Thomism than its veneration, much less such scholarly debates having direct political impact on political institu­ tions, policy making and implementation.

B. What in the Mencius-Controversies W hat irked the anti-Mencians and provoked the controversies was M encius’ departure from royalism, or ruler-centered governance, for populism, people-centered governance. Specifically, their controver­ sies were concentrated on three notional areas which supported and were implied in M encius’ anti-royalism: (1) wang-pa distinction, (2) ruler-ruled relation, and (3) what the “Tao” means. In these three areas of controversies they critically examined the legitimacy of M encius’ anti-royalism. The debates went as far as attacking the very orthodoxy of M encius. The bone of contention in M encius’ aversion to royalism was his distinction between two kinds of rulers: wang 3E. and pa f j f . Mencius and the pro-Mencians took the distinction to be that of humane wang versus inhumane pa. The anti-M encians took it as a mere distinction between rulers over large territories (wang) and those over small ones (pa). The pro-Mencians took the distinction as a moral one, and moral­ ity— Mencius vividly described it as the heartfelt intolerance at people’s suffering (pu jen jen chih hsin, ''F iS A A 'E ') — is as absolute a prereq­

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uisite of rulership as it is both naturally ingrained in us and inherent in the texture of the heaven and earth themselves (2A2, 6, 6A8).U Nega­ tively putting the above political-metaphysical view throws the wangpa distinction into a typically anti-royalist relief. Unless the ruler lets his suffering-intolerant heart-mind (pu jen jen chih hsin) lead him to­ w ard su ffe rin g -in to le ran t governm ent {pu jen jen chih cheng, iM O (1A7, 2A6), the world would be in horrendous misery and confusion, wherein the “ruler” is no legitimate ruler (wang) but a mere despotic rascal fit to be removed (1B8). The pa-ruler controls people with brutal force under the pretext of humaneness; the wangm ler moves by humaneness (jen). Sadly, in contrast to the legendary Three Dynasties, when people lived together happily under one wang-ruler after another, the world of M encius’ days was ruled entirely by pa-rulers; the world was “flooded” with “fire” of miseries (2A1,3B5,6A 18). Sincepa-brutality came from royalism which was the ruler-centered government, Mencius was deadly opposed to royalism. Since royalist brutality was particularly felt among the people, and since suffering-intolerance concerned the people, ad­ vocating the government of suffering-intolerance amounted to promot­ ing populism — the people-centered government. Thus this M encian and pro-M encian view effectively undermined royalism for populism; the very name and essence of “government” consists in m anaging affairs to promote popular welfare, and nothing else! And this view was what stuck in the craw of Sung imperialism and the royalist scholar-officials. They had to do something about it. And ingenious indeed was the anti-Mencian solution. They had three points: the claim that the wang-pa distinction as that between rulers with humaneness and justice (jen i) and those without, is otiose and irrelevant to governance, since humaneness is a sine qua non for effec­ tive government anyway, for without it no politics can be obtained.12 The wang-pa distinction is merely that in rank and extent of rulership. Besides, the effectiveness of the pa-ruler’s governance over small ter­ ritories derives from his allegiance to the wang-ruler over vast ones.13 Finally, since political effectiveness originates in humaneness and jus­ tice (jen i), both the legendary Three Dynasties and later ones such as the C h’in, Han, Sui, and T ’ang, have all been effective; there are no qualitative differences between the Three Dynasties, on the one hand, and the later ones, on the other.14 A natural and important corollary to the above debate on the wangpa distinction in rulership was controversy over the ruler-ruled rela­

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tion, as to whether it was merely relative and contractual, or absolutely binding, inherent in the very texture of the heaven and earth them ­ selves. For the pro-M encians, the ruler-ruled relation was a correlative contractual one. This was a natural outcome from M encius’ anti-royalist populism: if the sole business of mlership was to care for the people, then the rulership lasts only so long as this rulership-obligation was fulfilled. “Let the ruler take his subjects as his hands and feet, then the subjects shall take him as their hearts and s o u ls;.. .let the ruler take his subjects as grass and dirt, then his subjects shall take him as their rival and enemy” (4B3). M ing T ’ai Tsu (r. 1368-98) was reported to have been fiercely enraged over this passage.15 Mencius’contractual ruler-ruled relation came from two sources: popu­ lism (min pen) and meritocracy (shang hsien). Populism relativizes mlership into a contractual position; mlership is legitimated on this popu­ list ground. Furthermore, the m ler needed popular input for his effective government, and meritocracy arose; those more sensitive and sagacious among common people jostled into the courts of the feudal lords to have their views heard— hence, meritocracy.16When they were heard in a strong state, they stayed; if not heard, or if the m ler was not strong enough to support them, they left for another mler. Hence, contractual relativism within the ruler-ruled relation (cf. Mencius, 3B 2,4). Naturally the anti-Mencians could not put up with such a view, sub­ versive of imperialism. They attacked Mencius for inciting disrespect and disloyalty to the mlers. Ssu-ma Kuang (Chiin-shih, 1019-1086) cited the historical example of Chou Kung assisting King C h’eng when the king was quite young; his behavior of respect of rank disregarded the values of virtue and age. Mencius wanted people to value virtue and age as much as rank (2B2); but without Chou Kung’s exemplary behavior, Ssu-ma Kuang was afraid that people might well become insubordinate because of their pride on virtue and/or age.17 Similarly, Li Kou ( ^ H , T ’a i - p o ^ f ^ , 1009-1059) castigated Mencius for being unfair to the Chou monarchs; they were merely a bit weak, not at all as bad as Chieh and did not deserve disloyalty which M encius advocated.18 Cheng Shu-yu ( H I ) said that M encius wanted those feudal lords to act as if they were legendary mlers such as King T ’ang and King Wu, but M encius never obtained the m ler’s instm ction to do so.19 The anti-Mencians further noted that what made the rectification of the names (cheng ming, TF&) of rank-distinction work was the m ler’s own “rectification of the heart-mind” (cheng hsin, JE'C.') in the sense

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of his moral self-cultivation. This was at the base of rulership. And so the ruler’s self-cultivation (hsiu yang, flf£§|), the rectification of the (absolute) name (cheng ming) of ruler-ruled relation, and royal manag­ ing of the world (ching lun, Mfra). these three went together in a mutu­ ally supportive relation.20 Fundamentally, Ssu-ma Kuang insisted that Li (fU, rite) and Ming ($3 , name, distinction)— the ruler-ruled relation— is absolutely needed for the law and order of communal living, and is an essential part in­ herent in the very order and texture of the universe.21 Confucius fully promoted this aspect of political management; he refused to be served by the feudal lord of Wei as if he, Confucius, were a monarch, on the ground that it would have violated the Li o f name (distinction), for Confucius was a mere commoner.22Furthermore, Ssu-ma Kuang cited several historical exemplary subjects who were loyal to their deaths to their monarchs.23 He castigated assassins of rulers as never deserving of the name, “righteous” ( /, H ) .24 The last point above brings us to two fundamental problems: whether Mencius was within the line of Confucian orthodoxy at all, which in turn raises the question of what the basic order of things amounts to, that is, what the Tao (j|f) of the universe means, especially in a political context. In their desperation, the anti-Mencians went all the way back to the root of things about Mencius, and noted three obvious points about him in rela­ tion to Confucius: first, Confucius was not as severe in criticizing the mlers as Mencius was, much less to the extent of advocating populism against royalism. Second, Mencius clearly stated that he was a disciple of Confucius. Third, Confucius was the undisputed origin of Confucian orthodoxy. Given these points, the question naturally arose as to how orthodox Mencius was in the official line of Confucianism. Anti-Mencians labored on documentation to prove that Mencius was not an orthodox Confucian. Since Mencius’ discipleship under Confucius and M encius’ anti-roy­ alism hardly required documentation, the anti-Mencians simply culled historical materials on incidents of Confucius paying loyal respect to rulers. One cited by Ssu-ma Kuang was mentioned above, on how Confucius begged off being treated like a ruler by the feudal lord of Wei.25 Cheng Hou-shu (U p p Shu-yu ca. 1135) said, Confucius said that if there was anyone who possesses him [i.e., his loyalty], that ‘person’ would be the Eastern Chou; this was Confucius’ true heart-mind. In con­ trast, Mencius lived in the land of Chou, lived on the grains of Chou, and yet was without the heart-mind of Chou. This shows how much Mencius was deviated from Confucius, despite having studied under Confucius.26

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In short, as Li T ’ai-po succinctly summed up the contrast, “The Tao of Confucius is ‘the ruler be rulerly, the ruled be as the ruled should be.’ The Tao of Mencius is, ‘everyone can become the ruler.’” 27 O f course the pro-Mencians were not silent. Typically, YuYiin-wen circa 1163) said, Confucius had been received by 72 feudal lords, without urging them to pay spe­ cial respect to the Chou royalty.. .Even if Confucius urged those feudal lords to be loyal to the Chou royalty, their growth in strength would have eventually toppled down the Chou. Confucius must have known all this which was not discerned by those vulgar Confucians of today.28

Similarly, Chu Hsi (Hui-an, 1130-1200) said, Confucius edited the annals of Ch’un Ch’iu to help revive the declining Chou dynasty; Mencius went about persuading feudal lords to revive the [true] kingly way (wang tao). Their different behaviors in differing times nonetheless shared the same objective.”29

This, Chu Hsi argued, was because Confucius respected the Chou also for the sake of the benefits of common folks.30 Chang Chiu-ch’eng (StRiLfR. Tzu-shao ^F-fp, 1092-1159) chim ed in, saying, “The ruler regards his people as his body; the people regard their ruler as their heart.”31 And so, he continued, To fulfill the Tao of ruler-ruled relation is to adhere to the love of people. Those who do not serve the ruler with the motive whereby Shun served Yao do not pay true respect to their rulers. Those who do not govern people with the motive whereby Yao governed people amount to robbing (tse) the people. What was Shun’s motive of serving Yao? Taking people as the top-priority [in his political agenda]. What was Yao’s motive of governing people? Also, taking people as the top-priority [in his political agenda].32

According to the pro-M encians, furthermore, Mencius was far from being dispensable, as was often claimed by the anti-Mencians. With­ out M encius the Tao of Confucius would have been lost in the violent hands of foul theories, said Yii Yiin-wen.33 Chu Hsi noted that Mencius was the crucial “boatman in the boat of Six Classics,” presumably to maneuver it through the tides of the tim es.34 But what was the Tao of Confucius? Did it differ from the Tao de­ scribed by M encius? To raise these sort of questions over Tao is to go to the very metaphysical root of the Sung debates. Previously we have encountered the phrase, “inherent in the very texture of the heaven and earth themselves” was used to describe the absoluteness of both humaneness and rulership. The first was a com ­

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mon assumptive frame on which both pro-Mencians and anti-Mencians proceeded their controversies.35The second concerns the anti-Mencians’ understandable interpretation of the meaning of the Tao, the ingrained principle of all things. Furthermore, together these two points actually constituted the third of the foci of contentions between these two Sung rivals. Li T ’ai-po’s resounding announcement, “The Tao of Confucius is ‘The ruler be rulerly, the ruled be as the ruled should be.’ The Tao of M encius is, ‘Everyone can become the ruler.’” has been mentioned above. Li actually bypassed the content of M encius’ Tao as that of be­ nevolence and justice (jen i, fU fl), which entailed the disturbing con­ clusion that everyone thus qualified for rulership can be admitted thereto. It was this disturbing conclusion that Li was attacking by citing the Tao of Confucius being that of the ruler-ruled relation, eternally distinct and inviolable. The pro-M encians were not slow in detecting the anti-M encian intention. Yii Yiin-wen responded by saying that the great essence (ta yao, Hf) of the Tao consists in benevolence and justice (jen i), presum ably m eaning thereby that the basis of the ruler-ruled relation resides in the Jen I, which is so fundam ental as never to be negotiable by any vicissitudes of history, said Chang Chiu-ch’eng.36 The Tao o f M encius was also claim ed to be the Jen I by Chu H si.37 The upshot of all this is as follows. Those who claimed the Tao to be that o f the ruler-ruled relation stressed the inviolability (as stringent as the order of the universe) of the position of the ruler, because it is part of the nature of things, the inherent order of things. Hence, the ruler is beyond any disloyal critiques. Those who claimed the Tao as Jen I stressed the importance of qualification and critical examination of the de facto ruler, as well as a potential invitation to any qualified person to become the ruler, because the qualification is a moral one, and mo­ rality is an inherent part of the texture of the universe which includes all human persons.38 At this point, we see how muddled the anti-M encians’ argument had become. First, the anti-Mencians missed the point when they insisted on the absoluteness of the ruler-ruled relation, as if Mencius were bent on toppling over the very institution of royal rulership itself. But M encius never dreamed of instituting a democratic government; he never insisted on having the people as the ruler. He wanted not peoplerulership but people-centered rulership.

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In other words, Mencius’ intention was not about the institution of rulership as such, but on the true meaning of the ruler and the qualifica­ tion of the person claiming to rulership; the true meaning of rulership is populism (not democracy), and so the government of the de facto ruler should conform to this meaning, to qualify being a true ruler. Mencius and the pro-Mencians were thus separating the individual ruler from the position of rulership, whereas anti-Mencians were insisting on such augustness of the ruler himself qua ruler as to be beyond any criticism. Yet even anti-M encians them selves had to admit to the necessity of humaneness (jen) both in political m anagem ent (for its effective­ ness) and in the ruler him self qua ruler. These contradictory points— being blind to the difference between ruler and rulership, insisting on the necessity of humaneness in the ruler— exposed m uddled incoher­ ence within the anti-M encians’ position. However, the Sung debates actually did not proceed in this manner.

C. Chinese Hermeneutics As Politics It is time for us to summarize what has been said about the Sung Confucians’ debates over Mencius. Then we will observe in them a Chinese distinctness: hermeneutics as politics. To begin with, how did they come about? Section A above says that they arose by way of canonization of the Mencius during the Sung period. Canonization drew critical attention among scholar-officials, both pro- and anti-Mencian, to the new Classic of Mencius. Further­ more, it was the situation of popular misery in M encius’ days which provoked his ideals. This M encian situation of popular misery paral­ leled the Sung situation; such a parallelism provoked the Sung scholarofficials to meditate deeply on the Mencius, and debate over it. Their scholarly debates came to bear directly on their political decisions over policies and even political institutions. Then, what were all these debates about? Section B above says that the bone of contention was M encius’ shift of total allegiance away from the centralized government of the Chou monarchs, relying instead on numerous local feudal lords to practice the benevolent Way of kingly politics (wang too, ZEjJt) for popular welfare. This was a shift to popu­ lism, subversive of the avid royalism of Sung times. It also so hap­ pened that Wang A n-shih’s New Reform movement was based on M encius; Mencius thereby became the target of attacks by the antiWang scholar-officials.

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M encius’ denial of the absolute supremacy of Chou monarchy pro­ voked hot controversies over M encius’ three basic notional areas sup­ porting his denial: wang-pa distinction, ruler-ruled relation, and the meaning of the “Tao.” First, the wang-pa distinction was taken by proWang idealists to be that between the benevolent king (wang) of popu­ lism, the people-centered government allegedly practiced during the golden days of Ideal Three Dynasties, on the one hand, and the selfish brutal despot (pa) of royalism, the ruler-centered government of later period, on the other. The anti-M encius realists, such as Ssu-ma Kuang, however, took the wang-pa distinction to be merely that between rulers over large territories and those over small ones, without any qualitative differences between these two groups (not “kinds”) of rulers. Second, the ruler-ruled relation for M encius and Wang An-shih was a relative, contractual one. That is, the de facto “ruler” must fulfill his obligation of promoting people’s welfare; the ruler who neglects this duty, e.g., in profiteering and continual battles, eo ipso disqualifies him­ self from rulership and fits to be removed, forcibly if necessary. The anti-Mencius royalists of Sung, however, insisted on the eternal valid­ ity of the ruler-ruled distinction, the distinction of these “names” being quite appropriate and absolutely abiding, being essential to the ingrained order (Tao) of things. Third, the notion of Tao for the pro-M encius officials meant the principle of benevolence (jen) and justice (i), which can and should be embodied by every reflective and virtuous person; since the ruler is one who embodies this Tao, this doctrine of the Tao implies that any­ one who embodies the Tao is fit to rule, a potentially subversive doc­ trine of Sung imperialism. The anti-M encius Confucians, however, insisted that the Tao in Confucius meant the unchangeable order of things, among which they included the ruler-ruled class relation. This view naturally consolidated the royalist position; the ruler-centered government is part of the very nature of things. Furthermore, since Confucius was the foundation of Confucian orthodoxy, and since M encius seems to deviate from Confucius’ alleged interpretation of the Tao as the essential class-rela­ tions of things, M encius was rejected as outside of the official line of Confucian orthodoxy. From the above rather straightforward historical description of what had transpired in what might be called the Sung “politics of M encius debates,” we see Chinese peculiarities of hermeneutics as politics: the pragmatic character of Confucian scholarship, the common presuppo­

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sitions of Mencius debates and their implications, and how the same text of Mencius can and was interpreted from radically different per­ spectives. The pragmatic character of Mencius-debates takes two forms: the pragmatic origin and character of the M encian ideals and the political character of debates over Mencius. M encius’ ideals of populist hu­ mane government were provoked by the intolerable suffering of the people. The debates over M encius were provoked by the similarities between M encius’ situation and the Sung’s. Thus the pragmatic origins of M encius’ ideals provoked debates over M encius’ ideals, which natu­ rally were intensely pragmatic in implications. The heat of seemingly innocent debates over the Mencius was po­ litical in nature. The heat was more political than scholarly; or rather, the scholarly heat was itself a political one. Debates over Mencius went to legitimize policies, to provide grounds justifying new policy pro­ posals, and even as far as to legitimize specific political institutions as such. We are pressed hard to find parallel cases in the West. No debates in the West over policies have yet turned crucially on scholarly discus­ sion in classical scholarship. We have yet to hear of the debates, in the imperial court of papal or civic royalties, over how related A ristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics is to his Politics, or how “orthodox” Augustine or Aquinas was in the Aristotelian tradition, and the like, all loaded with practical policy implications. One must append here a sad note, however. The debates over the Mencius in Sung times seemed to have been a crucial fight between Confiicianization of politics, on the one hand, and politicization of Con­ fucianism, on the other. Confucianization of politics is humanization, “populism-ization,” of political management; politicization of Confu­ cianism is legitimation of despotic manipulation by sophistic reinterpre­ tation of the Confucian Classics. Sadly, the latter won the day during the Sung, as it always has been, both before then and ever since. In any case, in ways such as this essay delineated, the first charac­ teristic of Chinese scholarship is exhibited: that it is intensely prag­ matic, full of political overtones. To discuss the Mencius is to debate over political management. Equally significant is to notice what topics were not debated. Three things at least were conspicuously absent in the controversies— the homo-cosmic continuum, the ideal rule of the virtuous, and the human nature as genetically, potentially virtuous.

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The fact that they were not debated means that they served as a common background, a shared assumptive frame of reference, for fur­ ther debates over other policy matters. This means that no Chinese politics, and by extrapolation, no political maneuvers whatsoever, could afford to go against them. They had to be at least advertised ostensibly as grounds for any policy implementation, including despotic auto­ cratic ones such as those during the Sung era. In fact, the Sung royalists were avid promoters of government by virtue and equation of social order (the ruler-ruled distinction) with virtue and integrity. Ssu-ma Kuang insisted that there could not have been a distinction between the benevolent ruler and the despotic one, because without humane virtue (jen) no government is possible.39 He further noted that the ruler-ruled distinction was absolutely binding, on the ground that disloyal subjects and assassins of royalty could not be called “righteous (/),” and such disloyal subjects had “no room (in the world) to accommodate themselves” ; rebels such as Kuo Chieh ($ PS?) of Kuan Tung (ISlfC) district deserved to be destroyed by the imperial power responsible for law and order in the community.40 In sum, only virtue effectively rules the world, and the ruler cultivates himself for the correct “name” of rulership.41 All this demonstrates that (ingrained) goodness or virtue is needed, if not as an absolute ground, then as a practical necessity, for communal living. This point may say something about the constitution of the world.42 It is interesting to note how M encius hermeneutics during the Sung proceeded from two radically different political-as-hermeneutical per­ spectives. One was populism, represented by Wang An-shih; the other was royalism, advocated by Ssu-ma Kuang. The Mencius seems to flex itself to accommodate these two mutually opposed interpretive ma­ neuvers. It is instructive, furthermore, to observe how the royalists maneuvered through the populist text of the Mencius. They adopted two tactics: (i) what can be reinterpreted in the text were herm eneuti­ cally tailored to their account; (ii) what cannot be so tailored were simply rejected as part of M encian heterodoxy. W hat can be reinter­ preted were two: the wang-pa distinction; and the meaning of the Tao. The first wang-pa distinction was usually taken as the distinction between the kingly (wang) and the despotic (pa). The royalists reinter­ preted it as a distinction between the ruler over greater territories (wang) versus the ruler over smaller areas (pa). This interpretation turned the quality-distinction of rulership into a quantitative one. The second “in­ terpretation of the Tao” was interesting. For Confucius, the royalists

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claimed, the Tao means the irrefrangible Way of the irrefragable nor­ mative distinction between the ruler and the ruled, whereas the popu­ lists claimed the Tao to be the natural principle of the humane (jen) and the just (t). Their implications are respectively obvious. The absolute ruler-ruled distinction established the ruler’s position once and for all. The moral principle of human nature qua human entailed that any person quali­ fied to be called truly human can and should rule for the promotion of human communal happiness. What was too clearly opposed to royalism to be reinterpreted away, the royalists had no choice but to expurgate from the Mencius, on the condescending ground that Mencius himself was not orthodox enough to claim their allegiance. These insurgent ideas of Mencius were ex­ pressed in strong language, such as calling the ruler a “robber” (tse) who is “incapable” (pu neng, ^ tb )> or a “mere fellow (or rascal)” (i fu, — fit to be killed who does not care for popular welfare. These seditious passages were expurgated because M encius deviated from the orthodoxy of Confucius. W hat is instructive to note here is that the same classical text yielded different interpretations according to dif­ ferent, even mutually opposed, hermeneutical perspectives. All in all, the above pages historically bear forth three herm eneuti­ cal truths in our Chinese understanding of the classical text: Chinese hermeneutics is rife with political-pragmatic implications; Chinese interpretive controversies require a common humanistic frame of ref­ erence; and Chinese classical texts are amenable to radically different interpretations. This essay has shown that all these three points were exhibited in the solid historical factuality of the Sung Confucians’ hermeneutical debates over the Mencius— on populism versus royalism, the ruler ver­ sus the ruled, and the meaning of the Tao. Such Confucian scholarly debates were themselves wranglings over legitimation of political in­ stitutions, policy decisions, and their implementation. The Chinese his­ torical phenomenon of hermeneutics as politics has rarely been seen elsewhere in the world.

Notes 1. 2.

Yti-hai, chiian 40. Yi-wen, “Chia-yu shih-ching.” T ’o-t’o et. al., Sung shih (Ssu-pu pei-yao edition), chiian 16, Pen-chi 16, Shen-tsung 3, 208a.

Chinese Hermeneutics as Politics 3. 4.

5.

6. 7.

8. 9.

10.

11. 12.

13.

14.

15. 16.

209

Ch’eng I and Ch’eng Hao, Erh Cheng chi (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chu, 1981), 22; Sung Lien, Yuan Shih (SPPY ed.), 81:3a. For a preliminary discussion of scholar-officials’ debates over Mencius dur­ ing Wang An-shih’s reform era, see: James T. C. Liu, Reform in Sung China: Wang An-shih (1021-1086) and His New Policies (Cambridge: Harvard Uni­ versity Press, 1959), 34-35; Huang Chun-chieh, Meng Tzu (Taipei: Tung-ta t’a-shu kung-ssu, 1993), 8:139-236. See Huang Chun-chieh, Meng-hsiieh ssu-hsiang-shih lun (Taipei: Tung-ta t’u-shu kung-ssu, 1991), vol. 1, 5:111-160; Chun-chieh Huang, ‘“ Rightness and ‘Profit’ in Ancient China: the Polemics between Mencius and Yang Chu, Mo tzu, Hslin Tzu,” Proceedings o f National Science Council, R.O.C. Part C, January, 1993, 59-72. Cf. Chiang Fu-ts’ung, “Sung-tai i-ko kuo-ts’e ti chien-tao,” in Sung-shih Yenchiu-chi (Taipei: Chung- hua ts’ung-shu wei- yuan-huei, 1958), 1:407-449. Cf. Ch’ien Mu, “Lun Sung-tai ti hsiang-ch’uan” in Sung-shih yen-chiu-chi, 1:445-462. Cf. Saeki Tomi, “Sodai no kojoshi ni tsuide,” Toho Gakuho (Kyoto), vol. 9, ed. in Saeki Tomi, Chugokushi kenkyu (Kyoto: Toyoshi Kenkyukai, 1969), 1-42. For a preliminary discussion on Wang An-shih’s exaltation of Mencius, see Li Ching-te ed., Chu-tzu yii-lei (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1981), chiian 90, 2294; Pai T ’ing (of Yuan Dynasty), Chan-yuan ching-yii (Chih-pu-chuchai ts’ung-shu edition), chiian 2 , 14a-b; Yang Chih-chiu, “Wang An-shih yu Meng Tzu,” She-hui k ’o-hsiieh chan-hsien (History, no. 3, 1979), 142-145; Kindo Masasetsu, “Wang An-shih niokeru Meng Tzu soso no tokusetsu— YUan Feng no Meng Tzu haiko to Meng Tzu seijinron o chusin toshide,” Nihon chugoku gakkukaiho, 36 (1984), 134-147. Takeuchi Yoshio argues that the Mencius is embedded in the spirit of the Spring and Autumn Annals. The Sung scholar-officials might have intended to use the Mencius as their Han predecessors did the Spring and Autumn Annals. See Takeuchi Yoshio, “Meng Tzu do Ch’un Ch’i u f in Takeuchi Yoshio Zenshu (Tokyo: Kadogawa Shoden, 1977), 8:307-375. This serves as one of the points of debate over the meaning of the Tao dis­ cussed below. Ssu-ma Kuang, “Tao t’ung,” in Wen-kuo Ssu-ma Wen-cheng-kung wen-chi (SPTK ts’u-pien so-pen edition, hereafter cited as WKSMWC), chiian 75, 539. Li Kou, “Ch’ang Yu,” in his Li Kou chi (Peking: Chung-hua shu-chu, 1981, hereafter cited on LKC), Appendix 1, 512-513; Ssu-ma Kuang, WKSMWC, chiian 71, 518. Ssu-ma Kuang, WKSMWC, 533, 539. Cf. Hsiao Kung-ch’uan, Chung-kuo cheng-chih ssu-hsiang-shih (Taipei: Lien-ching ch’u-pan kung-ssu, 1982), 1:516. Ch’uan Tsu-wang, Chieh-ch’i-t’ing chi (SPTK ts’u-pien so-pen ed.), chiian 35, 371a. Cf. Huang Chun-chieh, Ch’un-ch’iu Chan-kuo shih-tai shang-hsien chengchih ti li-lun yii shih-chi (Taipei: Wen-hstieh ch’u-pan-she, 1977), 79-80.

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17. Ssu-ma kuang,WKSMWC, chuan 73, 513a. 18. Li Kuo, “Ch’ang Yii,” ed. in Yii Yiin-wen, Chun Meng pien (Shanghai: Shangwu yin-shu-kuan, reproduction of Shuo-shang-k’o ts’ung-shu ed., 1937, here­ after cited as CMP), chiian 2, 16. 19. Cheng Shu-yu, “Yi-p’u che-chung,” ed. in Yii Yiin-wen, CMP, chiian 2, 30. 20. Cf. Monohashi Tetsuji, Jugaku no mokuteki to Soju Keireki shi Keigen hyakurokuju nenkan no Katsudo, in Monohashi Tetsuji chosakushu (Tokyo: Daishukan Shoden, 1975), 1:192-361. 21. This serves as another of the points of debate over the meaning of the Tao, discussed below. 22. Ssu-ma Kuang, Hsin-chao Chih-chih T ’ung-chien (Taipei: Shih-chieh shuchii photo-reproduction of the punctuated edition, 1970, hereafter cited as CCTC), chuan 1, 2-3. 23. Ssu-ma Kuang, CCTC, chiian 7, 25; chiian 220, 7050,7064; chiian 291,9511. 24. Ssu-ma Kuang, CCTC, chiian 7, 231; chiian 11, 360; chiian 18, 606. 25. Ssu-ma Kuang, CCTC, chiian 1, 2-3. 26. Cheng Hou-shu, “Yi-p’u che-chung,” in CMP, chiian 2, 27. 27. Li Kuo, “Ch’ang Yii,” in CMP, chiian 2, 13. 28. Yii Yiin-wen, CMP, chiian 2, 18. 29. Chu Hsi, “Tu Yii Yiin-chih chun Meng pien,” in CMP, chiian 1, 2; chiian 2, 14; chiian 3, 18. 30. Ibid. 31. Chang Chiu-ch’eng, Meng tzu chiian (Ssu-k’u ch’iian-shu chen-pen 2nd Se­ ries), chiian 14, 6b. 32. Ibid. 33. Yii Yiin-wen, “Yiian Meng,” in Chun Meng pien pieh-lu in CMP, 59; see also CMP, chiian 2, 26. 34. CMP, chiian 2, 26. 35. We will reflect on this important point in our conclusive section, C.2.b. 36. CMP, Chiian 2, 13; also Chang Chiu-ch’eng, Meng tzu chiian, chiian 8, 8a-b. 37. CMP, chiian 2, 13, 24. 38. Cf. Huang Chiin-chieh, Meng-hsiieh ssu-hsiang-shih lun, vol. 1, ch. 2. 39. Ssu-ma Kuang, WKSMWC, chuan 75, 539. 40. Ssu-ma Kuang, CCTC, chiian 1, 14-15; Chi-ku lu (SPTK ts’u-pien so-pen ed.), chiian 18, 113b-115b. See also: Chang Hsii, T ’ung-chien hsiieh (Taipei: K’ai-ming shu-chu, 1958, 1979), 106. 41. See Ssu-ma Kuang, CCTC, vol. 1, 27-30, esp. 26; WKSMWC, chuan 46, “chin-hsiu chih-kuo chih yao cha-chih chuang.” For the most recent discus­ sion on this point, see Peter K. Bol’s “Government, Society, and State: On the Political Visions of Ssu-ma Kuang and Wang An-shih,” in Robert P. Hymes and Conrad Schirokauer, eds., Ordering the World: Approaches to State and Society in Sung Dynasty China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 128-192.

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42. In fact, Socrates has already exploited this point in his debate with Thrasymachus in the Republic of Plato, I. 251. “Honor among thieves” is a sine qua non for any communal solidarity. See Francis Macdonald Cornford, trans., The Republic o f Plato (London: Oxford University Press, 1941,1977), 33, 35.

Part 4 Chu Hsi and the Interpretation of the Chinese Classics

11 To Know the Sages Better Than They Knew Themselves: Chu Hsi’s “Romantic Hermeneutics” Jonathan R. Herman T h e questions of why and how one should read a particular text cut to the core of the Western hermeneutic enterprise. Interestingly, these are much the same issues addressed by Chu Hsi in the tu-shu-fa chapters of his Chu-tzu yii-lei, where he both reiterates his standard metaphysi­ cal theories and offers explicit instructions on reading the classical Confucian texts. The “why” and the “how” of Chu Hsi’s proposed curriculum are both fairly clear; the purpose is to inculcate in the student an intui­ tive, comprehensive understanding of principle (/*), and the process involves a systematic and ritualistic program of intense study and quiet reflection. However, what is not immediately obvious is the mecha­ nism by which the process produces the goal. In other words, why does the study of specific moral, literary, historical, cultural, and aesthetic lessons lend itself to the knowledge of a cosmic principle that is be­ yond form? How does the student make the leap from the particular to the universal, from principle as manifest to principle in its oneness? In this paper, I will examine these implicit connections and demonstrate that Chu Hsi’s theory of interpretation actually shares much in com­ mon with the “rom antic” Verstehen herm eneutics of Friedrich Schleiermacher and Wilhelm Dilthey. Before proceeding any further, I would like to clarify exactly what I hope to accomplish by adopting such a methodology. Many sinologists are wary—and rightly so— of comparative or crosscultural approaches 215

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to Chinese studies, and I certainly do not intend to argue that Sung Confucianism and nineteenth century German literary theory share some type of “deep structure” or are manifestations of a singular “perennial philosophy.” Rather, I have in mind three very specific goals. First, I hope to demonstrate that Chu H si’s philosophy of reading contributes an interesting voice to the M odem W est’s ongoing discourse on herme­ neutics. Today, even the most elemental methodological concerns— d e fin itio n s o f “m e a n in g ” and “ in te rp re ta tio n ,” stra te g ie s fo r “interpreting” or ascertaining textual “meaning,” issues of objectivity and subjectivity, etc.— are still very much in question, and Chu H si’s discussions frequently cast these subjects in a new and challenging light. Second, I hope to illustrate how applying the terminology and theory of the Verstehen school to an analysis of Chu Hsi’s work renders his hermeneutic positions more intelligible and brings into focus cer­ tain features and nuances that might otherwise be overlooked. Finally, I hope that the demonstrated confluence of these two respective is­ sues— Chu H si’s contributions to modern hermeneutic theory and the Verstehen school’s contributions toward an understanding of Chu Hsi— will underscore the increasing need for the academy to take seriously various possible directions for a “comparative herm eneutics” or a “hermeneutic dialogue.” This essay will begin by briefly establishing Chu H si’s implicit un­ derstanding of what is meant by textual “meaning” (in the context of the Confucian Classics), followed by a more detailed analysis of his theories of textual interpretation. The essay concludes with a brief con­ sideration of some of the implications of Chu H si’s hermeneutics.

Chu Hsi and Textual Meaning Chu H si’s hermeneutic theories are considerably more complex than they may first appear, as even his understanding of textual “meaning”— i.e., exactly what it is that the reader is called to understand— produces some very significant ramifications. At the outset of the first tu-shu-fa chapter, Chu Hsi appears to express two very different positions on this issue. In one instance, he states that, “in book learning we must simply apprehend the many manifestations of moral principle” in or­ der to recognize that “all of them were complete in us from the very beginning, not added to us from the outside” (128). This would seem to suggest that “meaning” is empirically manifest, though ethically and cosmically grounded; the text represents or evokes matters that are

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particular and wholly scrutable, but which somehow replicate or par­ ticipate in a single truth that is both moral and metaphysical. And of course, this knowledge is not complete until it is recognized as identi­ cal to one’s inborn human nature and realized in all existential con­ figurations. In short, this is yet one more normative variant of the “// i, fen shu" dialectic that permeates so many of his writings. However, Chu Hsi suggests a second aspect of textual “m eaning” that is equally crucial to his hermeneutic chapters. “Read books to ob­ serve the intentions of the sages and worthies” (129). Here, the reader is exhorted to understand not an independently existing universal prin­ ciple, but the original intentions o f the author or authors. “It’s best to take up the books of the sages and read them so that you understand their ideas” (129). In other words, textual meaning lies in the recon­ struction of the thoughts, feelings, insights, or experiences of those who first created the work. It is important to note that this historical reconstructionist model of meaning which places primacy on authorial intent marks a significant departure from the previously mentioned in­ terpretive paradigm.1 Reading to apprehend principle and reading to reconstruct the sages’ intent appear to point toward different ends, though Chu Hsi quickly, if imprecisely, moves to smooth over this in­ congruity. “Follow the intentions of the sages and worthies to observe natural principle” (129). He does not make clear if one’s understand­ ing of li follows naturally from the possession of sagely knowledge or if the sages have intentionally recorded the specific details of principle both in its singularity and its manifestations. But regardless of how Chu Hsi justifies making this connection, he does reinforce the idea that classical learning is fundamentally a human science; the charac­ teristic of the classics that allows the reader to learn principle is that they provide access to “the meaning of the ancients” (132), the sages, the human authors of the texts. It should here be noted that the Verstehen school shares this basic assumption that the primary purpose of textual analysis is to “grasp the thinking that underlies a given statement” (Schleiermacher 1977, 97). And by extension, “it is essential that one be able to step out of one’s own frame of mind into that of the author” (42). In simple language, for both Chu Hsi and followers of the Verstehen school, it is the author’s voice that is the authoritative one.2

The Nature of Interpretation Although Chu Hsi never compares reading a difficult book to cook­

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ing a small fish, he does compare it to eating a piece of fruit (134), performing farm work, viewing a house (141), shooting a bow (133), and drinking wine (141), which suggests the alternate needs for deli­ cacy, precision, thoroughness, pacing, and attention to detail. The more conventional aspect of Chu H si’s curriculum approxim ates what Schleiermacher labels “grammatical interpretation,” the rigorous analy­ sis of a text “on the basis of the use of language common to the author and his original public” (117). For Chu Hsi, this involves not only the methodical and painstaking process of reading and rereading “each and every paragraph, each and every sentence, each and every word” (129), but also the contextualization of the primary source— ”we must look at the meaning of the surrounding text” (158)— and the com pila­ tion of relevant data from a broad range of secondary sources— ”we must consult the various annotations, commentaries, and explanations so that our understanding is complete” (129). In a sense, this is recog­ nizable as what today would be called “scholarship,” the application of historical and philological analysis to produce a critical distillation of the cultural and literary currents that originally informed the particular document. However, Chu Hsi directs most of his attention toward another more intriguing level of interpretation, one that he believes is too frequently omitted in the ordinary reading of canonical documents. “W hen men read a text, they merely read one layer; they don’t try to get at the second layer” (129). In some ways, the ascension to a higher interpre­ tation is analogous to the movement from lesser learning (hsiao-hsueh) to greater learning (ta-hsiieh), from “understanding of such-and-such an affair” to “investigation of such-and-such a principle” (90). The spe­ cific instructions for accomplishing this are relatively straightforward, though at first glance they provide little clue as to how the second thresh­ old is achieved, how one can “look for an opening in the text” (130). Students are exhorted to limit the size of their curriculum (132), to read only one text at a time, and to read each text slowly and only in the order it is presented (133). In addition, proper reading is to be per­ formed by oral recitation, followed by a period of quiet reflection, and followed by yet another oral recitation (139). But a more careful ex­ amination reveals that these techniques do share a single heuristic qual­ ity; each serves somehow to bring the reader closer to the words of the sages, to connect him or her more immediately to the sages themselves. A reduced curriculum allows one to “read little but become intimately familiar with what you read” (131), and “only if you read just one

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paragraph per day will the text begin to become part o f you” (133). And though Chu Hsi admits to being baffled about “how the mind so naturally becomes harmonious with the psychophysical stuff, feels up­ lifted and energized, and remembers securely what it reads,” he is nev­ ertheless certain that, “if we recite it then think it over, think it over then recite it, naturally it’ll become meaningful to us” (138). Over and over, Chu Hsi returns to the theme of “intimate familiarity,” the idea that one thoroughly knows the text not through consuming or routinizing the words, but through entering into some kind of organic relation with them.3 This level of understanding does not necessarily yield new informa­ tion per se, since it is a type of knowing that cannot be easily reduced to concepts or propositional facts. Rather, it is an intuitive knowledge, a sense of attunement that follows when one is patient and diligent enough to “take the words of the sages and worthies and pass them before your eyes, roll them around and around in your mouth, and turn them over and over in your mind” (129). Once again, the Verstehen discourse seems particularly resonant here, as both Schleiermacher and Chu Hsi argue that an analytical approach to the text must be com ple­ mented by (and is ultimately not really separable from) an intuitive one. Schleiermacher identifies the counterpart to “grammatical inter­ pretation” as “technical interpretation” or “psychological interpreta­ tion,” which “attem pts to identify what has moved the author to c o m m u n ic a te ” (1 4 7 ). T h is a sp ec t o f a p p re h e n d in g m ean in g , Schleiermacher argues, is less a process of rigorous scholarship than of “thought transfer” or “divination,” where the reader seeks an imme­ diate, phenomenological understanding of the person behind the text. “In interpretation it is essential that one be able to step out of one’s own frame of mind into that of the author” (42). Furthermore, the syn­ thesis of the grammatical and technical interpretation, the “historical and divinatory, objective and subjective reconstruction of a given state­ ment” (111), results in a unique type of intimate familiarity. In one instance, Schleiermacher speaks of “understanding an author better than he understands him self’ (64); in another, he formulates the task as “understand(ing) the text at first as well as and then even better than its author” (112). Similarly, Chu Hsi states that reading the Classics is “like speaking with (the sages) face to face” (129), that “intimate fa­ miliarity naturally will lead to complete mastery” (134) as one can see “the meaning leap right out from the text” (141) and “wash away the old understanding and bring forth new ideas” (150). The goal of classi­

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cal study is to know the text and the principle that informs it so well that “everything will naturally fall into place and interconnect” (100) and, in a manner of speaking, to know the sages as well as or better than they knew themselves. But this knowledge of the sages and their works does not end with even the aforementioned level of intimate familiarity. Chu Hsi speaks not of merely “knowing” the principle of the texts, but of somehow appropriating it for oneself, of “turning over and over in our minds what’s already become clear to us” (133), of “personally experiencing it over and over again” (132) in order “to make the reading relevant to our selves” (147). It is worth noting that Chu H si’s metaphors for per­ sonal experience consistently evoke images of vitality and dynamism. As one reads, it is essential for “both body and mind to enter into the passage” (146), for “the principle you probe” to be “embodied in your person” (143). And as he repeats and develops this language through­ out the chapters, Chu Hsi increasingly suggests that familiarity with the ways of the sages is itself a stepping stone toward a still more pro­ found level of intimacy, that of identification. Students, Chu Hsi sum­ marizes, “should turn the moral principle with which they’re already intimate over and over in their minds, until it permeates their entire person” (146). In his acceptance and expansion o f Schleierm acher’s theories, Wilhelm Dilthey argues that knowledge of an author and his or her work is not merely a subject explicating an object, but a structured empathy that produces some extraordinary possibilities. “On the basis of this empathy or transposition (of the self into some given expres­ sion), there arises the highest form of understanding in which the total­ ity of the mental life is active— re-creating or re-living” (226). In other words, the fullest knowledge of a work occurs when the reader not only understands the experiences and ideas made manifest in the tex­ tual representation, but also generates and brings to completion those very same experiences and ideas for him or herself. As summarized by David Linge, when “the self-transposition or imaginative projection of the knower into the horizon of his subject matter” is successful, “I in effect become the other person or a citizen of the past age” (544). This, I would argue, is precisely the level of understanding and the process by which it is attained that Chu Hsi describes in the tu-shufa chapters. W hen Chu Hsi speaks of turning reading into “an experience m eaning­ ful to the s e lf’ (148) or being intimately fam iliar with a text to the point that the words become one’s own (155), he is not describing the

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mere application of an external principle to the exigencies of one’s own circumstances. Rather, he is calling upon the reader to activate a principle latent in his or her own nature and engender the text’s em ­ bodied wisdom in his or her own life. “Generally speaking, in reading, we must first become intimately familiar with the text so that its words seem to come from own mouths. We should then continue to reflect on it so that its ideas seem to come from our own minds” (135). Even with secondary sources, “students are to understand it all, as if they them ­ selves had written it” (156). The implication is fairly clear. One does not acquire this wisdom; one produces it. One does not accumulate data about the sage’s life-experience; one re-animates it. The conventional theory ascribed to Chu Hsi is that one becomes a sage by understanding principle. In fact, Chu Hsi holds the exact opposite position; one understands prin­ ciple by becoming a sage, by making a direct personal identification with the authors of the Classics. For all of his sophisticated metaphysics and demands for extensive cultural and literary education, Chu Hsi’s program of learning is a fundamentally humanistic one. In addition, Chu Hsi seems to sense that his admission of a type of intuitive-psychological-divinatory level of interpretation does not eas­ ily lend itself to an “objective” standard, and thus could conceivably open the floodgates to a wave of highly subjective or speculative m is­ understanding. This may partially explain why he devotes consider­ able a tte n tio n to ca u tio n in g ag ain st n a rc issistic or so lip sistic misappropriations of the Classics. “In reading,” Chu Hsi writes, “don’t force your ideas on the text” (150). And similarly: “Students m ustn’t compromise the words of the sages with their own ideas” (150). But unfortunately, there are those who do not approach the texts with open minds, and simply produce egocentric and superficial readings. “Not understanding the words of the sages, they express their own common ideas and take them as those of the sages” (148). It is the responsibility of the reader, presumably under the guidance of seasoned teachers, to respect the presupposition that the authors of the Classics are further advanced in moral cultivation than is the reader, and to recognize this distinction as an occasion for self-examination and self-improvement.4 “W hen you begin reading, you become aware that you’re unlike the sages and worthies— how can you not urge yourself on?” (129). Chu Hsi adds a similar quotation from Su Hsiin, “When I first saw the words and ideas of the ancients, I found them so different from mine. With time I read them in greater detail, and my mind suddenly became clear” (146). As if to summarize the aggressive, self-revelatory nature of Chu

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H si’s method of reading, Schleiermacher writes, “There is a more rig­ orous practice of the art of interpretation that is based on the assum p­ tion that m isunderstanding occurs as a m atter of course, and so understanding must be willed and sought at every point” (110). The synthesis of the critical and the romantic demanded by Chu Hsi is not an easy task.

Implications of Chu Hsi’s the numinous enlightenment, and the real dharma realm (dharmadahtu). This understanding of the M ind as the Buddha nature explains why C h’i-sung changed the phrase “sincere will” in the Chung-yung to “sin­ cere mind,” for the “sincere mind” sounds closer to what he calls “pure and clean” mind inherent in all sentient beings. This mind, from the point of its productive power, can conceive all good and bad dharmas in this and other worlds. From the point of its penetrating power, it can discern that all sentient beings, whether good or bad, sacred or pro­ fane, in this world or another world, engender the same kind of delu­ sion. Since it penetrates the sacred and the profane and encounters no cause-and-effect obstruction, it is also known as the Way.37This seem­ ingly omniscient and omnipotent mind, according to C h’i-sung, is the Way ( tao j|i), the Principle (/* 5 |) , and the dharma (fa '(f). It is “the M ind of the sentient beings (chung-sheng-hsing highlighted in The Awakening o f Faith ( Ta-sheng ch’i-hsin lun It is the One Mind, which “includes in itself all states of being of the phenomenal world and the transcendental world.”39 Accordingly, it should include in itself the “sincere mind” of human beings. Since the M ind to C h’i-sung is so inclusive, he declares that, “The One M ind (wei hsin f(i /£') is called the Way; the explanation of the Way (ch’an tao Mxfi) is called the teaching (chiao f£).” This adage is a modification of the beginning sentences of the Chung-yung: “W hat Heaven imparts to man is called human nature. To follow our nature is called the Way.”40 The modification shows that he identifies the Mind with the Way in a much larger sense than it was known to Confucians. It is much closer to the Taoist Way in its moral, metaphysical, and cosmological senses. And because this One M ind is both enlightened and unenlightened insofar as its t ’i (essence of mind) and yung (func-

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tions of mind) are concerned, could it have prompted Neo-Confucians in later times to consider it a representation of a M ahayanist philoso­ phy of duality? Could this misperceived duality have inspired NeoConfucians to adopt the Mind of the Way ( tao-hsin H 'W and M ind of the Man (jen-hsin A 'M dichotomy as an alternative to the One Mind theory?41 This question, of course, does not suggest that the Neo-Confucian system of Mind-and-Heart was derivative from this One M ind philosophy.42It is to show the possibility that C h’i-sung may have stirred up Neo-Confucians, such as C h’eng I HEM (1033-1107), because of his adaptation of “sincerity” into the system o f the One Mind. W hen C h’i-sung identifies this M ind with “the M ind of the sentient beings” and the Way, he is reaffirming the M ahayana doctrine of “the myriad dharmas are but one mind” (wan-fa i-hsin — 'C.')— that all dharmas arise from the One Mind.43This One Mind which C h’i-sung had learned from the Awakening o f Faith should encompass the mind which Confucian wanted to “rectify” (cheng IE), whereas C h’i-sung wanted to enlighten it to make it “sincer e”(ch’eng M ).

Using the Mean to Criticize Han Yii C h’i-sung’s interpretation of the M ean in his memorial submitted to Emperor Jen-tsung constitutes a major portion of the literature repre­ senting his harmonization of Buddhism and Confucianism. There he unabashedly entreated the emperor to support him and to advise minis­ ters and other ranking officials to stop maligning Buddhism. He even pleaded with the emperor to discuss his works with these ranking offi­ cials: If my arguments are not so wrong or absurd, I wish Your Majesty could make them available to all under the heaven. This way, Confucians can be Confucians in their own right, and so can Buddhists be Buddhists. Both will assist you with their separate teachings as I mentioned above. [I also wish Your Majesty] could make this [coexistence of the two teachings] an established rule for ten thousand genera­ tions and end the hostile debates between the two parties. This will allow the regeneration of Buddhism to begin from the divine reign of Your Majesty.44

It would have been interesting to see how Confucian intellectuals responded specifically to C h’i-sung’s interpretation of the Mean. Un­ fortunately, they seemed mute in this regard. This could have been due to the fact that the em peror’s endorsement of C h’i-sung’s work inhib­ ited them from debating with him, or that they were hampered by their reservation with the philosophical subtleties of the Chung-yung and

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their unfamiliarity with the metaphysical issues C h’i-sung so boldly articulated. There are certainly other possible reasons, but these two are probably the dominant ones. To C h’i-sung, many contemporary Confucians were not cognizant of the sophistication of the Chung-yung, although they knew its general content and its discussion of life and destiny. Their understanding of the text was encumbered by the limited scope of their knowledge. As C h’i-sung suggested in his memorial sub­ mitted to Fu Pi (1004-1083), they were blinded by their selfconceit in claiming that they did not need Buddhism because they had the Chung-yung. They were as pompous as those Taoists who rejected Buddhism because they thought they had the Tao-te ching. C h’i-sung held that in the Chung-yung, the sage is concerned with the beginning point (tsao-tuan jaifg) of life and destiny, whereas in the Tao-te ching Dili'S 8 , the sage is concerned with the deep meaning ( chih shen of life and destiny. In Buddhist scriptures, however, the sage is con­ cerned with the perfect ultimate (yuan chi H I ® of life and destiny. He argued,

mm

Concerned with the beginning point [of life and destiny], the sage wants man to keep harmony with life and destiny; concerned with the deep meaning [of life and destiny], the sage wants man to comprehend life and destiny; concerned with the perfect ultimate [of life and destiny], the sage wants man to investigate life and destiny and correlate them with heaven and earth as well as the myriad things.45

These points, C h’i-sung believed, escaped many Confucians, in par­ ticular those followers of Han Yu. Why was Han Yii the epitome of these uninformed group of Confu­ cians? In C h’i-sung’s view, Han was so conceited that he did not see the interconnection between the Chung-yung and Buddhist scriptures when he spumed Buddhism. As a m atter of fact, C h’i-sung pointed out, Han Yii seems to have avoided mentioning the Chung-yung in his essay “On the Origin of Tao” (yuan tao *§). Why did Han abandon the text which deals with the sincerity and enlightenment that were the source of sages’ and worthies’ Way, as well as the virtue, humanity, righteousness and hundred other moral conducts that concerned him so much? Ch’i-sung’s answer is that Han must have seen such words as sincerity and enlightenment in the Chung-yung, but in his mind he had been unable to really comprehend their underlying principles.46 Again, Ch’i-sung is referring to the issue of nature and destiny which, as many Confucians have believed, is what the Chung-yung is known for. Nature and destiny are tied in with the Way of the true ruler, or the gentleman (chiin-tzu chih-tao as it is “laid before spiritual

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beings without question or fear, and can wait a hundred generations for a sage [to confirm it] without a doubt,” as Confucius remarked.47 C h’isung continues to quote this passage of the Chung-yung to prove that what was in Confucius’ mind has been accomplished by the Buddha’s work: Since it can be laid before spiritual beings without question or fear, it shows that he (i.e., the ruler or the gentleman) knows [the principle of] Heaven. Since it can wait for a hundred generations for a sage without a doubt, it shows that he knows [the principles of] man.” Therefore, only the sage who comprehends life and destiny can tell the depth and mysteriousness of the Chung-yung without be­ ing confused. However, from the time of Confucius up to the present day, there have been nearly a hundred generations; the only religion which has focused its teaching on life and destiny has been Buddhism—a religion flourished widely in China. Is this not an indication that the subtleties of Confucius’ teaching awaited the Buddha to unravel and testify to them?48

This is a statement that affirms the great value and function of Bud­ dhism on the ground that it actually reveals and enhances w hat Confucius wanted to teach. And, as Ch’i-sung argues, if both the words of the Buddha and the secular books like the Chung-yung are so iden­ tical in their discussion of nature, then both sages were concerned with the same nature. If Confucians reject a religion similar to their own teaching, then how will they treat those religions different from theirs?49 C h’i-sung further contends that Confucians overemphasized the dif­ ferences between the two teachings, even though they did recognize their similarities. Those who claimed that the Chung-yung, along with the I-ching, integrates nature and destiny in its philosophical system failed to see the significance of its comparability with Buddhism. They were too preoccupied with their animosity or prejudice against a reli­ gion they labeled “alien.” M uch more so for someone like Han Yii who neglected the Chung-yung when discussing the origin of the Way and who was so anti-foreign. W hy is it so? C h’i-sung suggests that Han Yii mixed up the meaning of the Way by downplaying the Way and virtue ( Tao-te jlitlS) and making it secondary to humanity and righteousness. He disagrees with Han’s theory that nothing could take precedence over humanity and righteousness, from which everything else, includ­ ing the Way and virtue, spring.50 H an’s reinterpretation of the conven­ tional wisdom expressed in the phrase, “the Way, virtue, humanity, and righteousness ( Tao-te jen-i jlttiH —H ) ” by rewording it into “hum an­ ity, righteousness, the Way and virtue (Jen-i tao-te iZ HMtlD,” is an aberration from Chinese tradition. Why is it so? C h’i-sung argued that Han Yti betrayed what the Chung-yung teaches in his attempt to rel­

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egate the meaning of the Way and virtue to the temporal level that defines humanity and righteousness. To counter Han Yu and to stress what is said in the Chung-yung, he quoted the “Appendix Remarks” and “Remarks on Certain Trigrams” (shuo-kua ) from the I-ching, saying, “The Appendix Remarks” says that, “the successive movement of yin and yang constitutes the Way. What issues from the Way is good and that which realizes it is the individual nature. The man of humanity sees it and calls it humanity. The man of wisdom sees it and calls it wisdom. And the common people act according to it daily without knowing it. In this way the Way of the superior man is fully real­ ized.” The “Remarks on Certain Trigrams” says that, “in ancient times the sages instituted the system of Changes in order to follow the principle of nature and destiny. Therefore, yin and yang were established as the way of Heaven, softness and firmness as the way of Earth, and humanity and righteousness as the way of man.” This is what the Chung-yung says in, “What Heaven imparts to man is called human nature. To follow our nature is called the Way. Cultivating the Way is called education.” The “Appendix Remarks” defines the Way as the wonderful movement of yin and yang. And endowed by this Way, man is able to form his nature. The man of humanity and the man of wisdom, although they are able to see humanity and wisdom, are tied down to their views of humanity and wisdom. The common people, although they act according to the Way, do not know anything about it. This clearly indicates that the Way of the sages is manifest but few can see it as it is. Thus, the Way of the sages does not rest with humanity and righteous­ ness. The “Remarks on Certain Trigrams” defines the principle of nature and des­ tiny as the principle of supreme spirits, which involves heaven, earth, and the myriad things. Therefore the sages instituted the system of Changes and valued the trigrams in order to follow this principle. Therefore they instituted the three elements of the Way, including heaven, earth, and man. When the operation of the Way of heaven begins, yin and yang emerge; when the formation of the Way of earth completes, the softness and firmness appear; and when the Way of man is endowed with feelings and nature, humanity and righteousness arise. Thus hu­ manity and righteousness exist with the assistance of the Way. Now, the Chungyung defines the Way as following our nature and education [or teaching] as culti­ vating the way ; and because the education [or teaching] is concerned with humanity, righteousness, and [other elements of] the five constant virtues (wu ch’ang 5 ® , how can the Way rest with humanity and righteousness and not exist prior to [the emergence of] humanity and righteousness?51

Obviously, C h’i-sung’s view is that the Way was there prior to the emergence of humanity and righteousness. He believes that it should encompass all moral virtues rather than be a constituent element of humanity and righteousness. This Great Way (ta tao jji) is the Way mentioned in the important Confucian texts, including the Changes (/ching), the Analects, the Book o f Rites, and texts belonging to other schools of thought, such as the Lao-tzu and the Yang-tzu Wo-f~-52 Bearing different names in these texts, it is in the Book o f Rites referred to as the Mean, or sincerity and enlightenment; in the “Great Norm”

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(hung fan chapter of the Book o f History (Shang-shu jo] U ) , as the Supreme Principle (huang chi j|l }n|);53 in the Book o f Odes (Shihching $j£), as “having no depraved thoughts” (ssu wu hsieh ® $£ JP);54 in the Spring and Autumn Annals (Ch’un-ch’iu as “the Way of the Great M ean” (ta chung chih tao taught by the sages.55 One may question how C h’i-sung can explain away the contextual differences among these phrases, but it is not an issue that concerned him. The point he wanted to make is that they convey the same idea represented by the Mean. This idea should encompass humanity and righteousness because it is much wider and deeper than they, even in terms of moral philosophy. It is what motivated the sages to establish a fundamental principle of the great Way of sincerity and enlightenment, and on the basis of which all the good and hundred conducts are per­ formed. It is for this reason that the Chung-yung refers to “centrality” (chung), or the Mean, as the great fundamental of the world.56 It is then not surprising to see that C h’i-sung argued that the Duke of Chou, Confucius, and M encius each in his time admired his predeces­ sor and inherited from him the Middle Way (chung-tao c^xS)- He wrote, The Chung-yung says that “[He who is sincere is one who hits upon what is right without effort and apprehends without thinking]. He is naturally and easily in har­ mony with the [Middle] Way. Such a man is a sage.”57 Mencius also said, “[He] stands in the middle of the path, and those who are able to do so follow him.”58 Is it not so? If one neither cultivates sincerity nor follows the middle and correct Way, can one indeed attain humanity and righteousness? If one cultivates sincerity and follows the middle and correct Way, will one lose humanity and righteousness?59

To sum up, C h’i-sung sees M encius’ “middle of the path” as the equiva­ lent of the Mean. The M ean in turn is tied up with sincerity and en­ lightenment, from which humanity and righteousness come about. Han Yii dissociated humanity and righteousness from sincerity and enlight­ enment, the Mean, and the text Chung-yung. His discussion of the ori­ gin of the Way thus contradicted what the sages had taught. After all, he did not reach as well as the Mean an understanding of the ultimate principle of sincerity and enlightenment. Despite his perseverance in writing, what good was it for people to emulate him? C oncluding R em ark s It has been argued that the Chung-yung represents Confiician dis­ course on psychology and metaphysics. It discusses the mind and hu­

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man nature in religious and mystical tones. It has long attracted Bud­ dhists and Taoists because of its focus on the links between the mind and human nature and between human nature and the Way of Heaven.60 The links, as shown by the above discussion, are sincerity and enlight­ enment. To Buddhists like Ch’i-sung, sincerity mirrors the Buddha mind, whereas human nature, which is what Heaven imparts to man, reflects the Buddha nature. Heaven and earth, on the other hand, constitute the dharma realm, to which all sentient beings were bom because of the changes and transformations of their minds and consciousness. C h’isung thinks that a man can become one with Heaven if this man takes the path of sincerity and pursues enlightenment. He sees those sages as ones who have embodied sincerity and attained enlightenment. In his view, sincerity is the Mean, and the M ean is sincerity. A man who follows the M ean to self-realize what Heaven has given him can be­ come a sage. Without this self-realization, one cannot even become a superior man (chiin-tzu ^ -J-), much less a sage. In other words, what makes a superior man differ from an inferior man (hsiao-jen /J\ A ) is his true understanding of the M ean.61 By the same token, what makes a sage different from a superior man is his self-realization of the Mean. It becomes clear why C h’i-sung, and perhaps other contemporary Sung Buddhists as well, wanted to promote the Chung-yung and the Mean. It is because he saw this text and its philosophy conform to what is taught by Buddhism. By promoting the philosophy of the Mean, he could actually unveil the mystery of Buddhism with which many Confucians had yet to come to terms. W hile elaborating on the intricate points of the text, he could fuse the two teachings with his novel inter­ pretations, thus harmonizing the inherent differences between them. As a matter of fact, C h’i-sung takes great pride in Buddhism because of its philosophical depth. He believes that the Mean allows all dharmas to become complete. Like Chih-yiian, he compared the Mean to the M iddle W ay in N a g a rju n a ’s Treatise on the Middle Doctrine (Madhyamika sastra or Chung-kuan lun 4° IS fro)-62 This Middle Way allows one to realize the ultimate reality, which in Buddhism is nir­ vana. C h’i-sung, however, was careful in broaching the idea that nir­ vana is the ultimate purpose of the M ean or human life. He knew all too well that many Confucians were not ready to accept the concept of nirvana, which they thought unfathomable. To students of Chinese Buddhism, it seems that C h’i-sung’s herme­ neutics is similar to the “matching the meaning” (ke-i f | ) tradition formed in the fourth century during the time Buddhist monks actively

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engaged in the translation of Buddhist scriptures. In undertaking the difficult task of translation, they had to find from both Confucian and Taoist traditions vocabularies whose meanings and ideas match those of Sanskrit words. They searched for words or phrases in Confucian and Taoist literature to translate Buddhist ideas according to their un­ derstanding of them.63 In a sense, C h’i-sung was obviously engaging in a kind of “matching” meanings. However, he was not looking for words or phrases to translate Buddhist ideas. Rather he was matching two different sets of ideas represented by already fixed vocabularies and meanings, despite their apparent ambiguities. He was dealing with a Confucian classic rather than a Buddhist scripture. Furthermore, he was interpreting Confucian vocabulary and ideas to offer Confucians a new exegesis or commentary on the text of the Chung-yung otherwise unavailable to Confucians, thus helping them acquire a non-sectarian understanding of their own tradition. The task of “matching” is differ­ ent from the earlier matching in terms of subject matter, process, and objective. As a result, he gave himself much latitude to reinterpret or translate Confucian ideas, rather than the other way around as the monks of the earlier “ke-i” tradition had attempted to. Although the motiva­ tion of his writings was apologetic, the end product turns out to have been proselytizing. This kind of hermeneutics, in which a m ajor Confucian classic was used as an object and subject, seems to have been a new approach to the task of harmonizing the two conflicting teachings. Through this hermeneutics, C h’i-sung read Buddhism into a major Confucian text and exercised a synthesis of the two teachings which went beyond the previous apologetic approach to the defense of Buddhism. It set an example for the Buddhist clergy of later generations to follow. The similar exegeses and reinterpretations on the Chung-yung, and other Confucian texts such as the Ta-hsiieh, that Han-shan Te-ch’ing ^ [I] Vf (1546-1623) and Ou-i Chih-hsu (1599-1655) carried out in the M ing can be seen as continuations or resurgences, if not a repercussions, of C h’i-sung’s hermeneutics.64

Notes 1. 2.

See Wing-tsit Chan, A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), 95. To facilitate discussion, the Chung-yung is hereafter used to refer to the text,

334

3.

4.

Classics and Interpretations whereas the Mean is used to refer to the concept associated with the text, or the Doctrine of the Mean. For Chih-yiian’s study of the Chung-yung , see Ch’ien Mu, “Tu Chih-yuan H sienc h iip ie n UHa HI pfl ® $§},” in Chung-kuo hsiieh-shu ssu-h siang shih lun-ts*ung (Taipei: Tung-ta Publishing Co., 1978), 5: 30, and “ Chung-yung hsin-i shen-shih (ft H ^ P , ” 2: 308, 318 of the same series. Ch’ien Mu believes that since Li Ao of the T’ang Dynasty, no scholar had vener­ ated the Chung-yung as much as Chih-yiian did. Ch’ien could be wrong by say­ ing this, because Hu YuanSQig (993-1059) had written a commentary called C hung-yung i 4 1jjjf H earlier than Chih-yiian did on the text. See Ch’en P’an |?fi C hung-yung chin-shih ^ Jif (Taipei: Cheng-chung shu-chii, 1976). Chih-yiian’s importance in the C hung-yung discourse is that he identified the Mean with the T’ien-t’ai teaching of the Middle Way. He advocated the compat­ ibility of Confucianism and Buddhism because the Mean and the Middle Way were, in his view, same kind of philosophy. For a brief discussion of this point, see Koichi Shinohara, “Zhiyuan’s Autobiographical Essay, ‘The Master of the Mean,” ’ in Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, eds., O th er Selves: A u to b io g ­ raphy & B iography in C ross-C ultural P erspective (Oakville: Mosaic Press, 1994), 35-72, especially 36-38. Whether Ch’i-sung had been fond of the C hung-yung before Fan Chung-yen remains a debatable issue. Long ago, Chang T’ai-yen argued that Fan taught Chang Tsai §1 this text after he had been influenced by Ch’i-sung. See Chang T’ai-yen, Chang-shih t s ’ung-shu chien-lun , chiian 4, “T’ung-ch’eng 3j| •” However, since Chang’s commentary is long lost, there is no evidence to support this claim. Recently, Chang’s notion was challenged. See Chou Hsuehwu, “Fan Chung-yen shou-shou Chang Tsai i-p’ien tsai Sung-tai hsueh-shu-shih shang ti ti-wei ?£ f t ^ $ 38 fs — M & f t £ t© ± ffo tfe fi,” in C o l­ le c te d E ssays in H on or o f Fan C hung-yen on H is M illen n ial B irth day

5.

6. 7. 8.

£5 ^ ?Gf11

)€ — USSR'S W i t # I w X S (Taipei: National Taiwan University Press, 1990.) See Ch’i-sung, T a n -ch in chi 0 ^ ^ [hereafter, TCC] (Taipei: Commercial Press, S su -k ’u cW iian-shu edition), chiian 10, “Shang Fu hsiang-kung shu _ t U mr iob. The mode of expression has been considered a difficult aspect of the Chungyung. See Tu Wei-ming, C en trality a n d C om m onality: An E ssay on Chung-yung (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1976), 1-7. TCC, 6a-b. Note here that Ch’i-sung changed the fourth emotion, “joy” (le ^ ), to fear (chii

'll) . 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

Ibid. 6b-7a. Ibid. 6b-7a. For the passages quoted from the C hung-yung , see Chan (1963), 98. See ibid., 98 for the quote from the Chung-yung. For the quote, see ibid., 98. For Ch’i-sung’s explanation of the nature and emotions, see TCC, chiian 4, “C hung-yung chieh ti-ssu H ” 1lb. This translation is taken from Chan (1963), 86, with minor changes. Ibid., 86. TCC, chiian 4, “Chung-yung chieh ti-wu 4 1Iff M ffl 3l ” 13a. TCC, chiian 4, “Chung-yung chieh ti-erh H7b. Ibid, chiian 4, “ Chung-yung chieh ti-ssu,” 13ab. For the Fu-chiao p ie n , see Huang Chi-chiang, “Lun Pei-Sung Ming-chiao Ch’isung ti C hia-chu F u-chiao p ie n y a o -i,” Salm is

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in the P roceedin gs o f the S econ d In tern ation al C onference on the C hinese R are B ooks ou tside o f China (Taipei: Linking Publishing Inc., 1988), 399-454. TCC, chiian 4, “Chung-yung-chieh ti-ssu,” 12a.

20. 21. Ch’i-sung was comparing sincerity stated in the beginning two sentences of chap­ ter twenty-one of the C hung-yung to Buddhist “ultimate reality” (chen j u ), which is also called “the true nature” (shih-hsing) and “the one [whole] mark” (i-hsiang ). The two sentences read “7zm ch ’eng m ing w ei chih hsing; tzu m ing c h ’eng w ei chih ch iao g §£BJ I f £ 14; g BJ M Z. are translated as “it is due to nature that enlightenment results from sincerity; it is due to education that sin­ cerity results from enlightenment.” See Chan (1963), 107. 22. TCC, chiian 9, “Wan-yen shu shang [Jen-tsung] huang-ti H I f I r _t [ C ^ ] M i f ,” 9b-10a. 23. Ibid. 24. For the translation of this passage, see Chan (1963), 107-108. The section read­ ing, “If they can fully develop the nature of things, they can then assist in the transforming and nourishing process of Heaven and Earth. If they assist in the transforming and nourishing process of Heaven and Earth” was not quoted and is represented by ellipsis. 25. TCC, chiian 9, “Wan-yen shu shang [Jen-tsung] huang-ti,” lOab. 26. For the translation of this passage, see Chan (1963), 109. Again, the ellipsis stands for the unquoted passage, which reads, “Being extensive and deep, it is high and brilliant. It is because it is high and brilliant that it overshadows all things. It is because it is infinite and lasting that it can complete all things.” 27. TCC, chiian 9, “Wan-yen shu shang [Jen-tsung] huang-ti,” 11. 28. Ibid. According to Chu Hsi, the chapters dealing with sincerity in which this chapter is included are Tzu-ssu’s rather than Confucius’ words. See Chu Hsi ^ C hung-yung chang-chii included in the Ssu-shu chi-chu [Z3H f t |£ (Taipei: Shih-chieh shu-chu, I960,) 20. Ch’i-sung apparently treated the en­ tire Chung-yung text as Confucius’ work. 29. In Buddhist cosmology, “the wheel or circle of wind (feng-lun) is below the circle of water and metal on which the earth rests. The circle of wind rests on space,” which is the first circle that existed. See William Soothill, A D ic tio n a ry o f C hinese B u ddh ist Terms (Taipei: Hsin-wen-feng, 1982 reprint), 318. The term “peacefully abiding wind-wheel” (an-chu fen g -lu n ), which is a tentative transla­ tion, seems to refer to the evolution of the wind-wheel from its “glowing and illuminating” stage to its peacefully abiding stage. Whether or not it connotes this meaning, Ch’i-sung’s point is that the wind-wheel was formed before Heaven and Earth. 30. Ibid. The translation of this quote, the source of which I have yet to find, is tentative. 31. Ibid. Again, Ch’i-sung thought these were Confucius’ words, whereas Chu Hsi believed that they were Tzu Ssu’s remarks. 32. See Soothill, 331b, for the definition of chen-ju. 33. This certainly should be based on the assumptions that (1) the concept of sincer­ ity was derived from Confucius; (2) the Buddha was bom after Confucius. Nei­ ther of these two assumptions can be validated. 34. TCC, chiian 2, “Kuang yuan-chiao JSSjM ,” 9a. 35. This explanation is not given in the common edition of F u-chiao p ie n quoted above. It is given in his interlinear edition called Chia-chu Fo-chiao p ien y a o -i (Essential meanings of the Fu-chiao pien in its interlinear edition), hereafter referred to as CCFCP. See Huang (1988), op. cit. The phrase “ch i-ch ao” comes from the Surangam a sutra. It refers to both the dharma nature and the dharm akaya.

336

36.

37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42.

43.

Classics and Interpretations See Ting Fu-pao, Fo-hsiieh ta - tz ’u-tien (Beijing: Wen-wu ch’u-pan-she, 1984), 953-954. See CCFCP, chiian 4 ,6a-7a; chiian 10,6a-10a. There are several notions regard­ ing the heart/mind in Mahayana Buddhism. The L an kavatara Sutra flOS lists two kinds of heart/mind, the Chih-kuan i t IS lists three kinds of heart/mind, the Chung-ching-lu lists four kinds, and the San -tsan g fa -sh u Z ilic & R lists six kinds. Ch’i-sung seems to have followed the Chung-ching-lu because his wording is almost the same as that of the C hung-ching-lu. See Ting (1984), 350d. CCFCP, chiian 4, p.7a. See Kao Chen-nung j®IMJI> ed., Ta-sheng c h ’i-hsin l u n j ^ ^ ^ i m m (Beijing: Chung-hua shu-chii, 1982, punctuated edition) 12,17-32. Cf.,Yoshito S. Hakeda trans., The Awakening o f Faith (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967) 28,31-33. This text gained much attention in later T’ang, as evidenced by its use in Tsung-mi’s systematic evaluation of Buddhist teachings. See Peter Gregory, Tsung-m i a n d the S ignification o f Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 14-19. Ibid. The translation is Hakeda’s. TCC, chiian 2, “Kuang yuan-chiao I f JK 2a. For translation of this passage, see Chan (1968), 98. The combination of these two terms first appears in the Shu-ching ( r $S, “Ta-yii mou A S H[,” chapter. William Theodore de Bary points out that it is not derivative from “Buddhist Teachings and Practices Concerning the Mind.” See his N eo-C onfucian O rth o ­ doxy a n d the L earning o f the M in d-an d-H eart (New York: Columbia University Press, 1981), 70. The former is from the H ua-yen Su tra , and the latter is from the P rajn a-param ita Sutra.

44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51.

TCC, chiian 9, 14b. TCC, chiian 10, “Shang Fu Hsiang-kung shu,” 10b-l la. TCC, chiian 18, “Fei Han-tzu san-shih pien t A H + jjg” lb-2a. TCC, chiian 17, “Fei Han-tzu san-shih p’ien,” 17b-18a. Ch’i-sung took the quote from the C hung-yung , Chapter 29. For its translation, see Chan (1963), 111. Ibid. TCC, chiian 1, “Yuan chiao J ” 11a. In CCFCP, Ch’i-sung reiterates this point by using the phrase “nature and principle” (hsing li f t M ) to gloss the word “nature.” TCC, chiian 17, lb-2a. Here, Ch’i-sung is criticizing the beginning few sen­ tences of Han’s famous essay “Yuan Tao Jj^ .” TCC, chiian 17, 3a-4a. For the translation of passages quoted from the I-ch in g , see Chan (1963), 266 and 269. According to Chan, the sentence read “chun-tzu chih tao hsien i” should be understood as, “[In this way] the Way of the superior man is fully realized,” rather than, “the Way of the superior man is rarely seen,” where “hsien is glossed as “rare, little, few” as it is normally glossed. This interpretation is based on Sun Hsing-yen’s Chou-i chi-chieh ]p| H M M , which was written in the Ch’ing dynasty. Ch’i-sung seems to have interpreted the sen­ tence without changing the meaning of “hsien,” despite the ambiguity of the note, “ku sheng-jen chih tao hsien-ming wei mei shao erh A iM. $¥ ^ M

52. Ibid. Ch’i-sung mentions the Yang-tzu several times in his works. He seems to have referred to Yang Chu because the “Yang” used is the one with the wood radical. To argue that the Way and virtue should precede humanity and

Chung-yung in Northern Sung Intellectual Discourse

53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

62. 63. 64.

337

righteousness, he took from the Yang-tzu the following quote: “Instruct with the Way, attain with virtue, be manly with humanity, and be proper with righteous­ ness” (Tao i tao chih, te i te chih, jen i jen chih, i i i chih IX XL " IX % X L '\Z ] X h X L ' m & '& Z ) . See Ibid, 2b. The “Great Norm,” a chapter of the Book o f History, consists of nine sections. Among them the “Supreme principle,” which means the “Great Mean” (ta chung), is in Section 5. This is based on what Confucius says in the Analects, chapter 2:2: “All three hundred odes can be covered by one of their sentences, and that is, ‘Have no depraved thoughts.’” For the translation, see Chan (1963), 22. See TCC, chtian 17, 4a. TCC, chuan 17, 4b-5a. Ibid, 19a. Ch’i-sung’s focus is on the “Middle Way,” so he does not quote the whole passage. For the full translation of this passage, see Chan (1963), 107. This is quoted from the Mencius, 7a:41. For the full translation, see D. C. Lau, The Mencius (New York: Penguin Books, 1976), 192. TCC, chuan 17, 19a. See Chan (1963), 95. TCC, chiian 18, 21. Ch’i-sung’s critique of Han Yu in this section is tied in with the Mean. He says that Han was uncharacteristically upset after he had been banished to Ch’ao-chou $0 *I,H for speaking up bravely. His anguish was due to the fact he was unable to follow the Mean. See CCFCP, chuan 5 ,35b-36a. For Chih-yuan, who styled himself Master Chungyung 4 1 >see note On “ke-i,” see K. Ch’en, Buddhism in China (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964), 68-69. For Han-shan Te-ch’ing’s commentary on the Chung-yung and the Ta-hsiieh, see Hsu Sung-pen, A Buddhist Leader in Ming China: The Life and Thought o f Hanshan Te-cWing (University Park and London: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1979), 155-157; for Ou-i Chih-hsii’s hermeneutics of the Chung-yung, see Yii Chiin-fang, “Some Ming Buddhist Responses to Neo-Confucianism,” in Journal o f Chinese Philosophy, 15 (1988), 371^-412, especially 394-396.

Part 6 Reinterpretations of Confucian Texts in the Ming-Ch’ing Period

17 Hermeneutics and Classicism: the New Script (jinweti) Learning of Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan On-cho Ng

The “Hermeneutical Axiom,” and the Historical Boundedness of Gong’s and Wei’s New Script Classicism T h e superfluity of belaboring the importance of Gong Zizhen (17921842) and Wei Yuan (1794-1856) in the intellectual history of late Im­ perial China goes without saying. The purpose of this essay is to critically engage some aspects of this duo’s learning from the stand­ point of hermeneutics, that is, the theory or philosophy of interpreta­ tion and understanding. To the extent that the hermeneutical enterprise in its modem sense arises historically from its lineage in biblical ex­ egesis and classical philology, it is especially pertinent to focus on Gong’s and Wei’s espousal of New Script (jinweri) Confucianism.1 This essay argues that through an examination of the New Script learning of Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan, it may be shown that tradi­ tional Chinese classicism shares some commonalties with contempo­ rary interpretive hermeneutics, insofar as both are based on the premise that the interpreter and the interpreted constantly interpenetrate. On a general level, any Confucian exegetical project can be said to be an illustration of the “hermeneutical axiom,” that is, the contention that all thought involves interpretation and is relative to the contingent con­ text of particular historical forces and factors, including the interpreter’s 341

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preunderstanding and predisposition.2 But a qualifier is crucial here. Confucian exegesis certainly did not cast doubt on classical truth it­ self, even though it might have critically evaluated some of the sources in which this truth was supposedly expressed; nor did it claim to be anything more than the retrieval and reassertion of such tmth. The ulti­ mate universality of the values embodied in the classics was taken for granted, although individual authorial imprints and historico-cultural conditions did exert considerable interpretive leverage.3 My comparative effort is best served by the sort of W estern herm e­ neutics, in particular the German strain, which affirms the m eaning­ fulness of words as interpretations and expressions of truth while acknowledging the incom pleteness and ephem erality of apprehend­ ing human knowing through texts.4 Specifically, I will refer to HansGeorg G adam er’s herm eneutic arguments and principles which stress the interactive import o f the “dialogical approaches” to reading the classics as a way to engage hum an responsibility, understanding and eventually liberation.5 Fruitful com parisons may also be drawn be­ tween Confucian herm eneutics and David Tracy’s C hristian herm e­ neutics within the fram ew ork of what he calls “system atic theology,” in that the latter is prem ised on the conviction that “no classic can be reduced to mere privacy.”6 Tracy’s thesis “is that what we m ean in naming certain te x ts ...’classics’ is that here we recognize nothing less than the disclosure of a reality we cannot but name truth.”7 As “truth,” the classics are in effect “public” and even “transcultural,” embodying both “an excess and a perm anence of m eaning that later generations m ust retrieve.”8 But such retrieval m ust be a result of critical and rigorous interpretations on the part of the textual interro­ gator with his or her particular historical understanding. As inter­ locutors with the classics, the interpreters ineluctably bring into the conversation their preunderstanding.9 Gadam er’s and Tracy’s herm eneutic approaches seek m eaningful conflations of the past and present by seeing the tim elessness of the classics in relation to their tem poral m anifestations in the present historical contingencies. The classics, because o f their essential per­ petuity, offer a comm on context and a single cultural tradition ca­ p able o f accom m odating the d iversity and h isto ric ity o f th eir interpreters. By casting Gong Zizhen’s and Wei Yuan’s exegetical endeavors in a comparative light, this essay hopes to contribute to a better understanding of Confucian herm eneutics, not as mere repeti­

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tion of the classics frozen in a tim eless moment, but as constant his­ torical restating and reinterpretation of the classical texts’ apparent transtem poral claim. It is well-known that Zhuang Cunyu’s (1719-88) scholarship on the Gongyang tradition of the Spring and Autumn Annals ignited interest in the Han jinwen classics and their commentaries. Liu Fenglu (1776-29), Zhuang’s maternal grandson, further brought jinwen learning to fruition in the Qing intellectual world.10 But Gong Zhizhen and Wei Yuan were no slavish epigones of their intellectual forbears’ jinwen learning, for while the latter elucidated the jinwen tenets primarily in accordance with the original Han forms, Gong and Wei consciously sought to transcend the old schema. Gong and Wei belonged to a generation of Chinese lite­ rati who redirected their commitments toward tackling the exigencies and current problems of the day, even though they often chose to voice their reformist advocacies through their hermeneutic reworking of the jinwen classical tradition. During their lifetime, Gong and Wei witnessed rebellions, political reversals, economic dislocations, social malaise, western encroachment and finally war.11 Gong and Wei advanced and made sense of classical New Script ideas by tapping them out on the pulses of socio-political realities. Dynastic decline engendered in their minds a sense of crisis and anxiety, and they sought understanding and resolution of their anxieties in the classics. The jinwen commentarial ideal of “revealing the profound principles concealed in recondite lan­ guage” (weiyan dayi) appeared to be a powerful purposive notion. It imparted a sense of goal-seeking in the study of the classics— the illumi­ nation of the profound values in the abstruse words of the sages. This purposive act was further substantiated by the ideal of “comprehending the classics for their practical application” (tongjing zhiyong), directly grappling with institutional changes and moral prescriptions. The jinwen tradition thus became the ground on which Gong and Wei nurtured their variegated ideas in accord with the demands of their time. By investing a practical meaning in their classical writings, thereby reinventing an exegetical tradition to which they declared scholarly allegiance, Gong and Wei produced texts that articulated the central problems of their time. In Gong’s and Wei’s hermeneutics, the New Script precepts encountered the historicity of the Qing world with its particular intellectual, political and social referents. Their works thus provoke reflection on the herme­ neutical issues of the production of texts and the way in which these texts should be read.

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Departure from Antecedents: Interpretive Fluidity in Gong’s and Wei’s New Script Hermeneutics W hat undergirded Gong Zizhen’s and Wei Yuan’s hermeneutic en­ deavor was a protuberant interpretive flexibility aimed at making the best sense of prevailing problems. To achieve this goal, unlike Zhuang and Liu, Gong and Wei did not conceive their fundamental questions by arraying them along a single axis between the New Script classical tradition and practical advocacies. In his 1817 preface to Jiang Fan’s work, Guochao Hanxueh shichengji (Record of Han-leaming Masters and Their Succession in the Qing Dynasty), Gong sought the reconcil­ ing of the polarity of zundexing (honoring one’s moral nature) and daowenxue (following the way of inquiry and learning).12 Gong as­ serted that in Confucian learning, they “initially were not antithetical, but were complementary.” Although in his time, daowenxue did pre­ dominate, it did not follow that zundexing was inferior. Gong used the New Script precept of the alternation between “simplicity” (zhi) and “refinement” (wen)13to elucidate the interrelation between daowenxue and zundexing; the former was identified with refinement, the latter with simplicity. A lopsided emphasis on daowenxue would mean that “there is erudition but no essence, and that there are words and writ­ ings but no nature and the Way of Heaven.” However, “the desire to know nature and the Way of Heaven begins with words and writings.” The two approaches must therefore be “promoted as a pair and rel­ egated as a pair.” 14 In this spirit of complementary accommodation, Gong did not cast away the Old Script (guwen) corpus of classics. In writing about the Old Script preface to the Documents, Gong actually relied on the spu­ rious Old Script version.15 In his 1828 essay on the section of “Dashi” (The great declaration) in the Documents, Gong claimed that both ...jinwen and guwen all came from the hands of Confucius....The one origin branched off into two streams. Gradually, the one origin branched off into hun­ dreds of streams. This is the same as the translation [of foreign works] in later ages. One set of words and writings can be translated in one, two or three ways, perhaps even seven ways.... Before translation, the text has its own language; after translation, the text has indeed taken on their [translators’] language. 16

Gong’s study of the Odes and the Spring and Autumn Annals was likewise inspired and guided by his eclectic spirit. With respect to the Odes, he said,

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In my study of the Odes, I stress the elocution of the verses and lines. With respect to the Old Script Mao version of the Odes and the three New Script schools (Qi, Lu, and Han), I neither specialize in one nor abandon any other.17

In his Liujing zhengming (Rectification o f the Term ‘Six Classics’), written in 1832, Gong accepted all three commentaries as legitimate transmissions of the Spring and Autumn A n n a l s In his Chunqiu jueshi bi (Analogous Cases in the Chunqiu), composed in 1838, Gong again explained the need to employ all three commentaries, each meritorious in its own way: [In studying the ideas of] “establishing the five beginnings,” “unfolding the three ages,” “preserving the three systems,” “distinguishing between the core and the periphery” and “the newly arisen king,” in distinguishing between the month, day and time, and in differentiating between names and appellations, the Gongyang [Commentary\ should be used extensively. In searching for actual facts, the Zuo [Commentary] should be occasionally adopted. In searching for the miscellaneous discussions and judgments, the Guliang [Commentary] should be occasionally adopted.19

Gong’s refusal to banish the Zuo Commentary and his embrace of the Gongyang Commentary should be understood in the light of Gong’s identification o f the classics with histories.20 In his Gushi gouchen lun (A Discourse on Probing Ancient History), completed in 1825, he claimed that “Confucius’ transmitting of the Six Classics was based on histories.” All the Six Classics were indeed histories. Regarding the classics as history, Gong even upheld the Old Script view that Confucius “transmitted [the classics] without creating [them]” (shu er buzuo). According to Gong in his Rectification o f the Term Six Classics, “the Six Classics had existed in the world long before Confucius was bom,” and that, “prior to the birth of Confucius, the classics had already been there. After Confucius was bom, [he] him self made it clear that he did not create [the classics]. Did Confucius ever assemble his disciples and order them to write down his words so as to create a classic?”21 Similarly, Wei Yuan’s New Script classicism prescribed no rigid conformity to the antecedent Han and the Qing exegeses. When Zhuang Cunyu’s collected works were published, Wei Yuan contributed a fore­ word.22 In this short 1829 tribute to Zhuang and his oeuvre, Wei identi­ fied the New Script commentarial tradition as the basis of his own exegetical pursuit. He hammered home the central message that classi­ cal study in his own time, resembling that of the Eastern Han, had failed because of its philosophic sterility and practical fecklessness. It was high time that Zhuang’s New Script learning be promoted so as to

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recapture the spirit of the Western Han classicism, probing the pro­ found meanings of the classics. After Liu Fenglu’s death in 1829, Wei helped edit and collate L iu’s collected work and wrote the preface in 1830, in which he once again touted the New Script exegetical tradition.23 Wei saluted the long-ac­ knowledged raison d ’etre of this tradition, namely, the revealing of “profound principles concealed in subtle language,” and lamented its demise as the Old Script tradition came to hold sway.24 In paying hom­ age to the works of Liu Feng-lu, Wei called for the revival of New Script learning.25 But like Gong Zizhen, W ei’s promotion of the New Script tradition was no provincial sectarian endeavor. Although his method was often philological, his goal was always the recovery of the profound prin­ ciples of the sages. For instance, Wei did not wholeheartedly accept the New Script view that Confucius created the classics. Rather, he adhered to the Old Script contention that it was the Duke of Zhou who created them, which were then later edited and transmitted by Confucius. The classics, except the Spring and Autumn Annals, came from the Duke of Zhou.26 That Gong and Wei exercised considerable latitude in their engage­ ment with the New Script exegetical tradition is most clearly shown in their hermeneutic rendering of the three most important precepts in the New Script exegetical tradition: the alternation between “simplicity (zhi)” and “refinement (wen),” the succession of the “three systems (santong)” and the sequencing of the “three ages (sanshi).” The notion of “three ages” explained the way Confucius recorded events of different “ages” with felicitous language in the Spring and Autumn Annals. Events of the first age he heard and knew of through transmitted records; events of the second he heard through contempo­ rary accounts by the elders still alive; those of the third he personally witnessed. Different language style must be employed to bring out the significance, particularly the moral import, of these events of different ages.27 The “three ages,” in the New Script commentarial tradition, also epitomized three different kinds of worlds. The remote age which Confucius knew through transmitted records was a world that witnessed the “attainment of order after regulating disorder” (zhiping); the closer age which he knew through the contemporary accounts of living elders witnessed “peace arising out of attained order” (shengping); the age which Confucius experienced him self witnessed “universal peace” (taiping).2*W hat Gong and Wei did in their hermeneutical effort was

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to universalize these New Script ideas so that they became paradig­ matic patterns of changing history and shifting cultural imperatives with contemporary resonance. In his Discourses from the Years 1815 and 1816, Gong introduced the schematic notion of the “three ages” based on his own understand­ ing of the Spring and Autumn Annals. He claimed that “since the be­ ginning of written records, there have been three classes (sandeng) of ages” : the “age of orderly rule” (zhishi), the “age of disorder” (luanshi) and the “age of decay” (shuaishi). Each was characterized by its talent (cai), or the lack of it. The terminology, categorization and order of succession were quite different from those in the Han New Script no­ tion of the three ages. In the Han scheme, there was a progressive (in the sense of improvement) scale of development— from shuailuan shi (age of weakness and disorder), through shengping shi (age of approach­ ing peace), to taiping shi (age of universal peace).29 Gong’s scheme embodied a regressive scale of development, descending from the age of orderly rule to the age of decay. Moreover, the age of disorder was hardly discussed at all. He did, however, pinpoint the differences be­ tween the age of orderly rule and the age of decay, paradoxically by noting their ostensible similarities. In the age of orderly rule, for in­ stance, the color was taisu (the great plain color), abandoning the os­ tentation of using the five colors (wuse). In the age of decay, the “black and white were mixed up,” unable to distinguish between colors. Thus Gong, in a sardonic fashion, claimed that in this way, the latter age “resem bled” (lei) the former in the abandonment of colors. Similarly, the highest note (gong) and lowest note (yu) of the pentatonic scale (wusheng) were confused in the age of decay, so much so that the notes and sounds were fused into one great cacophonic mass. It therefore “resem bled” the age of orderly rule in which sounds were purposefully rare but uniform. In the age of decay, the minds of the people were confused, not knowing what and how to criticize, and so it “resembled” the “absence of public opinion” (buyi) in the age of orderly rule. Gong concluded that in the age of decay, talents and competence were sorely wanting: “On the left, there is no talented and capable minister; on the right, there is no talented and capable historian.”30 Gong’s notion of the “three systems” was thus cast in an ironic mode so as to counsel wariness and self-scrutiny, lest people delude them ­ selves, thinking that they lived in an age of orderly rule; superficial prosperity and stability too often were mistaken as indications of a fundamentally sound system. Gong’s worry stemmed from the fact that

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he perceived his own time as an age of disorder. In an 1820 essay, Gong painted a grim picture of a country entrapped in problems which began in the last years of the Qianlong reign.31 In a poem composed in 1839, Gong lamented that it was written in an age of zhuluan (disor­ der), and expressed his yearning for the age of approaching peace and universal peace envisioned in the Spring and Autumn Annals.32The age of decline mirrored in the contem porary situation loomed large in Gong’s thinking. His ironic sense brought into sharp relief the moral, social and political degeneration in an age of decay, often cloaked in an outward appearance of prosperity. In his post-1819 writings, Gong’s postulation of the notion of the three ages came to be couched in more conventional New Script terms, adopting the progressive scale of historical development with an up­ ward movement— from disorder to universal peace. But Gong’s intent was always to establish the New Script historicist schema as some sort of general principle applicable to his own time. A case in point was his 1823 work, Discourse on the Great Meaning o f Ends and Beginnings in the Five Classics (Wujing dayi zhongshi lun), in which he expounded the universality of the idea of the three ages: Question: “The Evolution of Li” (Liyun) was written in such a way that it took High Antiquity (shanggu) as [the age of] disorder (zhuluan), and the Middle An­ tiquity (zhonggu) as [the age of] approaching peace. The kingly regime envisioned in the Chunqiu from the beginning to end spanned only two hundred forty years. How could it have embodied the three ages? Answer: The time from Antiquity until present can be divided into three ages. The Chunqiu period from beginning to end can also be divided into three ages....One day or one year [can be divided into three ages].33

Evidently, Gong expanded the notion of the three ages into a general principle governing the flow of time and the development in space. Each segment of time was considered as a temporal series marked by the succession of three stages, each characterized by spatial qualities. The three ages were no longer seen as meaningful periodization only with regard to the Spring and Autumn period, but they also became a general principle lending shape to the passage of time. In his explication of the idea of a three-age temporal succession as a historical series, Gong also summoned the authority of Confucius’ maxim: “My way is that of an all-pervading unity.” Gong’s purpose was to show that a metahistorical principle guided the flux of time; a way linked together vertically events and persons. Every historical se­ ries witnessed this way in action. It furnished the inner momentum of

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every series. Gong conceived movements, developments and growth in every series as a process of coming to grips with specific problems in successive stages. The whole story of each series unraveled as a vast exercise in problem-solving. His notion of the three ages was not pre­ sented as an abstract pattern of sequence but was propounded in con­ junction with a series o f pragmatic issues. An age was an age only to the extent that it was defined by a specific set of problems. Gong estab­ lished three categories of problems, each identified with one of the three ages. The first category included “shi” (food) and “hud" (com­ modities), namely, the livelihood of people. The second was concerned with “zhizuo” (creation of rites and institutions). The third dealt with the knowledge of “xing" (moral nature) and “tiandao" (the way of heaven).34 Thus the notion of the three ages was not an indicator of mere chronicity but was a provider of significance in concrete prag­ matic terms. Moreover, the principle of the three ages could be extrapolated from all the classics, not just from the Annals. In the Book o f Documents, for instance, not all of the so-called “eight objects of government” (bazheng) expounded in the chapter “The Great Plan” (Hongfan) were at once equally important. They each assumed different degree of importance in different ages. The first two objects, food and commodities, were the most urgent concerns of government in the age of disorder. The following four objects, sacrifice (si), the minister of the multitude (situ), the minister of crime (sikou) and the minister of works (sikong) be­ came the most important matters of government in the age of approach­ ing peace. The last two objects, entertainment of scholars as guests (bin) and honoring teachers (shi) commanded undivided attention in the age of universal peace. Furthermore, Gong contended that each of the eight objects of government also followed a three-age develop­ ment. For example, both the “Evolution of Li” and the Classic o f Odes described three different kinds of sacrifice in the three different ages.35 In brief, Gong used the notion of the three ages as a general prin­ ciple of development that could be applied to time-spans other than the Spring and Autumn period. Every age was involved with its problems, and must respond to its challenges. Every problem and challenge in turn did not remain unchanged. What the notion of three ages provided was a pattern of historical tim e with which Gong could illustrate spe­ cific problems and their changes.36 As the title of his Discourse on the Great Meaning o f Ends and Beginnings in the Five Classics suggests, Gong made great im agina­

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tive investment in devising a concordant temporal structure with a shi (beginning) and zhong (end), a structure substantively derived from the classics and conceptually based on the New Script three-age pre­ cept. In this work, Gong fused his historicism with his pragmatism. Since the classics revealed a pattern of tripartite sequence, one came to know that change conformed to a certain scheme; since the classics illustrated the changing concerns of government in time, one realized that pragmatic issues became different as new circumstances arose. In the age of disorder, people’s livelihood was the central problem: “People, with food and eating, developed their emotions and sentiments. With th e d e v e lo p m e n t o f e m o tio n s and s e n tim e n ts, w ritin g s are b o m ... .Therefore worship and sacrifice follow food and drinking.”37 With the securing of the people’s livelihood, the age of approaching peace arrived, and the responsibilities of the regime extended to other areas. The four “objects of government” described in the Documents then assumed center stage. They were “sacrifice,” “minister of the multitude,” “minister of crim e” and “minister of works.” Moreover, in this age of approaching peace, the ruler must endeavor to seek out those subjects who were “superior in insight and intellect,” capable in “iden­ tifying flattery.” The m ler must pay heed to their advice, instead of regarding himself as the only sagacious person in the public world. With humility, the m ler thus “commanded the scholars ( mingshi), com­ m anded the teachers ( mingshi) and com m anded the C onfucians (mingru),” honoring them as the bin (guests) and shi (teachers, master scholars). The Classics on Rites had confirmed the value of this prac­ tice. Gong wrote: The ancients made it clear that the Son of Heaven on the throne must know the number of virtuous scholars in the world. He knew not only the number, but he also knew their names. He knew not only their names, but he also knew where they were. Employing scholars as the master teachers was the cardinal measure in the procla­ mation and advertisement of imperial decrees and orders. The proclamation and advertisement of imperial decrees and orders were the means to the end of enjoying kingship. In the Classic on Rites, it was stated, “The rulers of the Three Dynasties invariably first proclaimed and advertised their decrees and orders.” If the eminent scholars left the country, the reputation of the ruler would be diminished; if the reputation of the ruler were diminished, the way of rulership was attenuated... .The virtuous scholars were the gold, gems and rarities of a country.38

In his 1814 Discourse on the Enlightened and Virtuous ( Mingliang lun), Gong had already affirmed that scholars occupied a pivotal role in the rise and fall of a country: “If the scholars all have a sense of shame, the country would never be shamed. When the scholars do not

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know what is shame, it is the greatest shame of a country.” Gong be­ moaned that in recent ages, the scholars knew only flattery and ava­ rice. Hence their inability to deliver the country from the age of chaos and disorder.39 On the other hand, if scholars were properly appeased and employed, the age of universal peace would be ushered in, an age in which the “objects of government” would be what the “Great Plan” in the Documents described as bin and shi, that is, the entertaining of scholars as valued guests and the honoring of m aster scholars as teach­ ers. Gong sang a paean about this age in which the ruler utilized the talents of the scholars: When the king was friend to and intimate with the valued guests and honored teachers, even if he were listening to the sounds of cows and horses, it would be like listening to [instruments made of] gold and jade. Even if he were close to the malodorous dust and mud, it would be like smelling the fragrant orchid....When food and commodities are abundant, there are helpers. When the officials and armies are complete, there are supporters. When worship and sacrifice are blessed with fortune, there are men of filial piety. When valued guests and honored teach­ ers are wooed, there are men of virtue. Indeed, it is the ultimate of the binding social relationships, the completion of the celebration between the sacred spirits and men... .Looking at the establishments and institutions, [I then] will say, “[They are] complete.” Searching for this [state of affairs] in the Spring and Autumn An­ nals, [we find the practice of] preserving the three systems, treating the barbarians as part of the core and criticizing the use of double names. Great peace will soon come. Harmony and happiness will prosper, and the worship of [the age of] uni­ versal peace will be instituted.40

Furthermore, Gong identified the age of universal peace with the ulti­ mate political and cultural achievement of dayitong (instituting a grand universal system of rule). In the Han New Script three-age historicist scheme, the entry into the age of universal peace was manifested in the creation of a universal regime, in which the barrier between the core and periphery, the barbarians and the Chinese, no longer existed.41 One of the m ajor accomplishments of “universal peace” (taiping) was the unity among all-under-Heaven. However, there was a certain ambiguity in G ong’s historicism. He did not see history in terms of a radical vision of progress. History did not represent the ineluctable cumulative growth of humanity. Despite Gong’s emphasis on the ever-changing nature of values and norms, the past as represented by the classics remained the storehouse of lessons.42 To Gong, the study of history was exceedingly useful. His Gushi gouchen lun (A Discourse on Probing Ancient History), completed in 1825, strove to show the perennial relevance of ancient history and history in general. In it, he elaborated the New Script ideas of “three

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systems” and “three ages,” and at the same time employed them as analogy for the present. The idea of “preserving the three systems” was important because history was important. Gong contended that in the Zhou, the official-historian was considered one of the most impor­ tant officials, for “outside of history, there is no [illustration of] human relationships, names and their referents.” The demise of the three dy­ nasties of Xia, Shang and Zhou could be attributed to the obliteration of their histories. The most effective way to destroy a country, a moral system, an ancestry, and individuals’ talents and teachings was the ex­ tirpation of their histories.43 Given the importance of the past for the present in a practical world, the ancient practice of “preserving the three systems” assumed great significance. Gong wrote in the section entitled “Zunshi” (Revering history): “The kings in ancient times preserved the three systems. When the country had a great problem, it did not regard its own ancestors as the only teachers. [The country] deliberated by referring to the Xia and Shang.”44 In the section entitled “Binbin” (Entertaining guests), Gong opined: A king adopted the beginning of the year [by referring] to the [previous] three dynasties’ [beginnings]. [His] music included [those of the previous] four dynas­ ties. [His] rites included [those of the previous] four dynasties. [His] books, records and writings included [those of the previous] hundred dynasties. [He] in such a way entertained the guests. To entertain (bin) was to honor the three dynasties together without forgetting them... .The guests (bin) are the sagely, the intelligent, the eminent, the outstanding and the aged elders of the other families.45

Here, Gong explained the notion of “preserving the three system s” by calling for the continuation of the previous dynasties’ institutions, with m odifications and accretions, and the veneration and honoring of their offspring. However, Gong introduced a new element, the con­ cept of “entertaining guests,” which specifically urged that a ruler made good use of the virtuous, the strong and the talented descen­ dants of previous dynasties. These descendants were the bin, the guests. In fact, Gong considered the history of the previous dynasties also as “guest” : “Confucius’ transm ission of the Six Classics was based on history. History was the records, docum ents, archives and the survivors [of the previous dynasty]. In the Zhou, they were all guests.”46 In short, it was incum bent on the ruling regime to appropri­ ate and capitalize on the resources of the previous dynasties— their virtuous and talented descendants, their history and experience, their rites, and their institutions.

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Gong further defined the relationship between the ruler and the guests in terms of the notion of the three ages: Of old, during the initial years of the establishment of a country, the other families (the guests) had not yet become a part [of the new regime]. It was the pursuit in [the age of] disorder. Therefore, the alien officials could not have yet shared the heavenly throne. In the case of the ruler, he should be diligent. In the case of the guests, they should avoid improper interference [with the rein of authority].... With the change of time came the age of approaching peace; further with the change of time came the age of universal peace. The guests gained entrance and became close to the offspring of the ruler.

The idea was that in the age of universal peace, the barrier between nei (the inner core) and wei (the outside periphery) was broken down. The guests could now truly become a part of the ruling family. Gong’s idea here was an extension of the Han New Script precept that in this age, the barbarians finally entered the feudal hierarchy and the world be­ came one family.47 It can be clearly seen that while Gong’s espousal of New Script clas­ sical ideas had its original point of reference in antique experience, its contemporary relevance was nevertheless unmistakable. In writing about the ruler and guests with reference to ancient history, Gong had also in mind the Qing ruling regime and its Chinese officials and scholars. Gong rested the hope of renovating the regime in the court’s enlisting the services of the enlightened and virtuous, a hope inspired and sanc­ tioned by the classics. His New Script hermeneutics was a function of his contemporary conception and understanding of late imperial China. This intimate linkage between classical exegesis and contemporary preoccupations also dictated Wei Yuan’s New Script hermeneutics. As Wei followed the New Script tradition to probe the pristine truths of the classics as practical guides to action, he developed his own thoughts on the cultural conditions of his time. Summoning and incorporating New Script tenets, Wei critiqued the institutions of the Qing dynasty. Therefore, W ei’s hermeneutic engagement with the tenets of the New Script tradition was necessarily highly selective. One of W ei’s most important works on the New Script tradition was the Ancient Subtle Meanings o f the [Classic of] Documents (Shu guwei), which he com ­ pleted late in his life in 1855, one year or so before he died. It may be considered a product of his lifelong interest and endeavor in restoring the Western Han New Script classical tradition. Wei stated that the aim of his study “is to expound and illuminate the profound principles re­ vealed in subtle language in the Western Han New and Old Script ver­

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sions of the Documents, and to expose the unsubstantiated creations and absence of the transmission of teachings of the masters in the Old Script versions.”48 He elucidated the notion of the “three system s” by explicating the cryptic first two lines of the “Yaodian” (The canon of Yao) in the Documents: “Examining antiquity, we find that the em ­ peror Yao was called Fangxun:” Zheng’s commentary claims that the Classic o f Odes has the article (tiao) of the three categories (sanke) and the teaching (jiao) of the five families (wujia). The five families are Tang, Yu, Xia, Shang and Zhou. The three categories are Yu and Xia as one category, Shang as one category, and Zhou as one category... .The three categories are the three systems (santong). The Zhou, including the Xia and Shang, formed the three systems. What came before the three systems are called the three antiquities (sangu). Therefore, when the history of the Zhou was again compiled, they were distinguished by using the phrase “examining into antiquity.”49

Wei then went on to describe the ancient practice of “linking together the three systems,” in large part following Dong Zhongshu’s discus­ sion in the Luxuriant Gems o f the Spring and Autumn Annals. Wei maintained that this practice constituted the profound principle revealed in subtle language in the Documents, a principle fully grasped by Dong but missed by the Eastern Han exegetes. The principle was, in concrete terms, that previous dynasties must be honored because heaven did not bestow the mandate to rule on just one family.50 To be sure, Wei Yuan wrote his commentary on the Classic o f Docu­ ments in large part to drive home the message that the New Script tradition’s stress on revealing the classics’ profound principles was the only correct spirit in which to approach the words of the sages. But his effort should not be narrowly viewed as a partisan move to champion the New Script school. The larger point he made was the lamentable degeneration of genuine learning striving for truths into piecemeal, trivial, calculated efforts to seek fame and fortune through pedantic valorization of scholastic worth, a phenomenon that recurred tim e and again in history. Throughout the ages, Scholars “forgot the original sagely teachings and meretriciously sold the sacral classics so as to enrich their attire and meals.”51 Wei urged fellow scholars to pay heed to and to learn from the classics’ essential spirit. In any event, the point is that W ei’s study of the classic, the Docu­ ments, was no mere explication of words and phrases, but it was also practical preoccupation with reforming the government. According to Wei, since ancient times, laws and institutions inexorably changed. For instance, the system of selecting people to join the government had to

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be changed so that preference would not always be given to the heredi­ tary nobles. The feudal system of the antique world inevitably also must change. The displacement of other states by the Qin dynasty that eventually unified China was a necessary development. “Rulership by heaven” (tianzhi) was eventually supplanted by “the rulership by hu­ mans” ( renchi). Wei concluded that since change had been the rule since antiquity, his own age must also make adjustments to suit the needs of the tim e.52 This philosophy of change was most systematically advanced in his M o’s [i.e., Wei Yuan’s] Writing-tablet (Mogu), a collection of his philo­ sophic ruminations, completed before his death and published posthu­ mously in 1878. In it, Wei depicted a cosmic-human world constantly in flux, propelled by the “transformative material force” (qihua).53Much progress had been made since the Three Dynasties in antiquity, Wei affirmed. He in fact boldly claimed that the later ages, in expanding the public (gong) domain, were actually superior to the antique Three Dy­ nasties, which embraced the feudal principle of maintaining private (si) authority.54Adducing institutional changes since antiquity as illus­ trations, Wei contended that even if the ancient sages were resurrected to undertake reforms, they would not have undone those changes. Re­ vival of antiquity was a form of pernicious wishful thinking. Wei bluntly stated that “the more ancient practices are changed, the more the people will be benefited.”55 Indeed, all of Wei’s writings on reforming the po­ litico-economic structure of the imperial government were inspired by the conviction that, “under heaven, there is no method that can remain unchanged for hundreds of years.” There was “no infinite immutable method.”56 The only historical constant was that, “as problems arise and as entrenched laws become old, there will have to be institutional changes in accordance with the times.”57 Wei Yuan’s perception of history as change stemmed from his onto­ logical conception of ultimate reality as “oneness” (yi ), the vital source of change: “Oneness begets change; changes beget transformations; transformations beget the infinite.” Nothing existed alone; all beings were dialectically involved: “All things under heaven do not exist alone but must have their opposites. But it should be said that no two heights can be coupled, no two greats can be accommodated, no two nobles can paired, no two circumstances can be duplicated. Coupling, accom­ modating, pairing, and duplicating must lead to conflicts of interest.”58 Thus, Wei asserted that each era and every person must come into the truth in its or one’s own manner, engaging and resolving problems in a

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timely fashion. History was no static formation but a process given over to circumstances, constantly in traffic with the particular needs of segments of time as they succeeded one another. Nonetheless, it was not W ei’s goal to render history into sheer con­ tingency and circumstantiality. Inherent in his idea of change was a clear sense of constancy. Underlying the flux of transformative mate­ rial force was the unchanging Way (dad), the fundamental anchor of reality, the sense of a holistic oneness. After all, changes grew out of the primal oneness, or the Way: “The profound person, approaching the Way, begins with oneness, conceals him self in oneness, praises oneness, and takes delight traveling in oneness.” The dialectic anti­ nomy of opposites was dissolved in oneness, as in the reconciliation of the anatomical dualities o f the limbs, the eyes, the ears and the nostrils: “Although there are two [of each of them], they are one body part.”59 W ei’s often sanguine advocacy of the inevitability of change is thus counterbalanced by his conception of reversion, revival, or return. To the extent that the oneness of the Way was immutable, all changes must return to it. Although it was true that “even the ancient sagekings” could not reverse the tides of history, that they could not destroy military strife in the “age of military strife,” and that they could not preclude punishments in the “age of punishments,” it was also true that if the principle of rulership modeled on the sage-kings were pursued, then, in the natural course of time, there would be rulership that “re­ turns to the origin and revives the beginning.”60 Wei wove into one philosophic fabric two different threads of think­ ing: inevitable circumstantial institutional changes in accordance with time and inexorable historicist return dictated by ontological constancy and universal oneness. This fabric was Wei’s historicist scheme of the “three ages,” inspired by the New Script version, yet also different from it. In his Fundamental Meanings o f the Laozi, Wei expounded what he called the “three ages:” the age of taigu (high antiquity), the age of zhonggu (middle antiquity) and the age of moshi (the ending age). But ju st as change and m ovem ent were represented by this tripartite diachronicity, so too was constancy represented by the synchronic ideal of non-action (wuwei). Wei used the analogy of the growth of an infant to denote change within constancy: When a newly bom infant is suckling, its knowledge has not yet been developed. Breathing, speechless, and not exerting effort, this is non-action of high antiquity. As it gradually grows, naive innocence has not taken leave, and so there will not yet be corrupt tendency toward indulgence in desires and the development of cun­

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ning. This is non-action in middle antiquity. As it commits mistakes, it gradually gets to know them and to understand them, without being hasty in making deci­ sive breaks with them. This is non-action in the ending age.

Thus, just as an infant experienced developmental changes, so too a historical age sported its changing attributes. But the constant ideal of non-action, first realized in high antiquity, persisted as the ultimate criterion of excellence, albeit manifested differently: “As time changes, non-action also changes. But the spirit of high antiquity is not aban­ doned even for one day.” To put it another way, “circumstances change but the Way remains the same. Can it be said that the ending age and high antiquity, as with being asleep and awake, are at odds with each other?”61 In terms of actual history, according to Wei, the age of the sagerulers Huangdi (reign, 2697?-? b .c .e .), Yao (reign, 2357?-2256? b .c .e .) and Shun (reign, 2255?-2205? b .c .e .) constituted the age of high antiq­ uity; the three dynasties of Xia, Shang and Zhou made up the age of middle antiquity; the successive tripartition was finally complete with the ending age, which coincided with the Spring and Autumn period (722-481 b .c .e .).62 But in the ending age of decay, there were already seeds of rebirth: “As the Zhou declined, problems abounded in the re­ fined culture, and the ideal of simplicity was completely extirpated. Without the great Way, people could not be swayed so that they would again return to the feelings of moral nature and m andate... .Therefore, there would inevitably be the return to the rule of high antiquity.”63 With reference to the New Script notions of the alternation between simplicity and refinement as the dynamic force of historical move­ ment, Wei praised both Confucius and Laozi as harbingers of the nec­ essary reversal of fortune: Simplicity and refinement reliably succeed each other so as to rectify problems. When problems reach their worst stage, there will be reversion to the origin. Confucius established frugality and moderation as the foundations of rituals, de­ siring to rescue the extravagances of refinement with the faith in simplicity. This was also the teaching of Laozi on innocence and trustworthiness. We cannot but say that in their time the preconditions [for revival] in the Western Han had al­ ready been planted.64

As the “flux of material force was remade” (qiyun zaizao) in the Han dynasty, “the people were liberated from sufferings,” and so “it could well be said that the Han was high antiquity.” 65 In short, in the dynamic flux of material force, simplicity and re­ finement alternated, circumstances changed, and the three ages ap­

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peared. But the constant Way, the “pure and simple” (chunpu) “mindheart of high antiquity” (taigu xin), persisted. “Just as there is nothing that does not eventually return to its origin, so too there is not one day when high antiquity is not present.”66As Wei saw it, one was obliged to live in history, in time-bound circumstances that were obdurately de­ manded change. But the Way of high antiquity provided the immuta­ bility and unity of ultimate meaning. Each historical age, in its own circumstantiality and contingency, as a facet or perspective of the total truth, discovered, realized, and returned to the ultimate truth. It should also be remarked that W ei’s three-age schema was regres­ sive and devolutionary, descending from the idyllic age of high antiq­ uity characterized by simplicity to the decadent ending age distinguished by its ostentatious refinement. It differed significantly from the pro­ gressive and upward-moving schema of the Han New Script three ages: from the age of approaching peace, through the age of rising peace, to the age of universal peace. Ostensibly, then, Wei’s design was informed by a certain pessimism, as opposed to the sense of optimism, improve­ ment, and eventual fulfillment evident in the Han model. But, in fact, W ei’s scheme was not without a ground for a sense of well-being, per­ petually renewable. Wei’s ending age of preponderant decay and de­ generation was after all a necessary stage in the redemptive process of human history which would see its consummation in the age of high antiquity. The ending age rang the death knell of an unhappy period and was about to usher in the beatific age of high antiquity. At a time when symptoms of dynastic decline became evident, the vision of re­ newal of, and return to, greatness was a comforting and inspiring historicism that imbued Wei Yuan’s reformism with emotional resonances.

Viewing Gong’s and Wei’s New Script Hermeneutics in a Com­ parative Perspective Gong Zizhen’s and Wei Yuan’s New Script hermeneutics reveals the ineluctable mediation of the classical ideas by the dictates of history. G ong’s and W ei’s evocation of New Text precepts was unmistakably anchored in a particular historical age, assuming a fin de siecle cultural role and social functioning, consciously responding to the needs of the time. M odifying and yet subscribing to the classical tenets of the New Script tradition, they defined the demands of their time as the demands of a historical epoch. But if Gong’s and W ei’s New Script learning was defined by ineradicably contemporary concerns of their age, it was

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also indelibly stamped by the mark of the Han New Script classical tradition. Gong’s and W ei’s harking back to the ancient past canon in order to serve their present needs suggests the perceived permanent value of this canon to Chinese literatus. Gong and Wei, with their keen sense of historical change, did not see the classics as literal truths. But they did see their eternal relevance and employability in his own par­ ticular time. Thus Gong’s and W ei’s valuation of the ancient texts, in the final analysis, was no different from our m odem valuation of the so-called “classics.” These words of M erleau-Ponty are instructive: The history of thought dismantles or embalms certain doctrines, changing them into “messages” or museum pieces. There are others, on the contrary, which it keeps alive. These endure not because there is some miraculous adequation or correspondence between them and an invariable “reality”..., but because, as obliga­ tory steps for those who want to go further, they retain an expressive power which exceeds their statements and propositions. These doctrines are the classics. They are recognizable by the fact that no one takes them literally, and yet new facts are never absolutely outside their province but call forth new echoes from them and reveal new lusters in them.67

This was precisely the manner in which Gong and Wei defined the classical tradition, and conjoined the past and their present. It was the creative interpenetration between their own time-bound imagination and the accepted universal classical store of ideas that bred their par­ ticular hermeneutics on the New Script classics. This observation begs speculation on the universal ingredients that may make up the particular cultural stews of hermeneutical enterprises involving the engagement with the classical texts.68 First, just what are the classics? In the broadest terms, they are, in David Tracy’s defini­ tion, paradigmatic and exemplary texts that “have helped found or form a particular culture.”69 Hence their paradigmatic “public status” and “public m eaning.”70 They are the m ost im portant elem ent in a com m unity’s cultural inheritance, the central testament to its imagina­ tive and mythological universe, comprising the basic assumptions and beliefs. As such exemplary and sacred texts, the classics possess last­ ing qualities. But their longevity and their refusal to disappear readily from a culture are also a consequence of their “openness to accommo­ dation,” in the words of Frank Kermode, welcoming readers and inter­ preters across time to assume their share of the production of the classics’ meanings.71 This openness is possible because of the general recogni­ tion of what David Tracy calls the classics’ “excess of meaning,” which “demands constant interpretation and bears a certain kind of tim eless­

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ness — namely the timelessness of a classic expression radically rooted in its own historical time and calling to...[the interpreter’s] own histo­ ricity.”72 To put it another way, the classics have no future other than their invitation to constant historical and finite reinterpretation; or else, their fate is death. The vital classics are capable of staking a strong claim to attention both as the encompassing timeless framework and as repositories of universal values. At the same time that they imbue individual passing phenomena with meaning and significance, they demand the hermeneutic intrusion spearheaded by the interpreter’s own questions and history. This inevitable hermeneutic interpolation, as David Tracy, follow­ ing Gadamer, outlines, has four m ajor characteristics. First, the inter­ preter initially arrives at the reading of the text with some strong preunderstanding, determined by the interpreter’s particular and con­ tingent historical concerns. But these concerns are in turn informed by the memories of the traditions and also animated by the inquirer’s fi­ duciary relationship with the community of other investigators. In brief, there is no fully autonomous interpreter above history, severed from tradition and exiled from the wider community of other readers. Sec­ ond, the classics, with their strong claim to attention, draw to them the interpreter. But instead of dom esticating the interpreter into becoming their unquestioning eulogist, the classics provoke a confrontation be­ tw een th eir identity as im m anent tran sh isto rical texts and the interpreter’s radical historical alterity. Third, a dialogue then ensues, a dialectical process of engaging the realities and questions disclosed by the texts, marked by the interpreter’s negotiations with them. Such ne­ gotiations, as in any meaningful dialogue, involve acceptance, rejec­ tion, modification and compromise of viewpoints. Fourth, this dialogue inexorably spills over to the large community of interpreters, insofar as the individual interpreter’s preunderstanding is forged by other un­ derstandings of the classics. Intersubjectively, the dialogue becomes a broad dialogue with other inquirers, so that a single individual reading acquires the stamp of relevance.73 With reference to this description of the classics and their inescap­ able hermeneutic corollaries, some commonalities may be discerned between Confucian exegesis and the Western hermeneutic tradition. Both conceive the understanding of particular phenomena in terms of a larger overarching framework. Both strive for understanding of the classic’s words through dialogic communication. Both, notwithstand­ ing their acceptance of the classics’ cultural function as the preserva­

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tion of truths, subject these truth-bearing texts to constant interroga­ tion. Both make no assault on the classics’ claim to ultimate value, but they dissect the particular ways in which the classics served as the vessels of the ancient sages’ pleas and teachings in finite historical moments. Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan, as interpreters, inevitably brought their visions to bear on the canons themselves and on prior canonical interpretations. As finite historical subjects, they approached the New Script classics with their preunderstanding of the Confucian teachings. Hence, willy-nilly, the timelessness of the classics was qualified by their specific historical insights. To the extent that a dialogic relation exists between the hermeneut and the classical text, Confucian exegesis also brings to mind Gadamer’s philosophical hermeneutics, which affirms that every interpreter en­ ters into the hermeneutic act bearing the historical effects of tradition. Gong and Wei would have agreed with G adam er’s assertion that “[hjermeneutic experience is concerned with tradition... .But tradition is not simply a process that experience teaches us to know and govern; it is language— i.e., it expresses itself like a Thou.” Gadamer clarifies the nature of text-reading via the I-Thou relation: A Thou is not an object; it relates itself to us. Rather, I maintain that the under­ standing of tradition does not take the traditionary text as an expression of another person’s life, but as meaning that is detached from the person who means it, from an I or a Thou.... For tradition is a genuine partner in communication, with which we have fellowship as does the T with a “Thou.”74

The clearest expression of the transmitted tradition as language is the classics, which embody a culture’s “normative sense.” Through these norm-imparting texts, we gain “a consciousness of something endur­ ing, of significance that cannot be lost and is independent of all the circumstances of time— a kind of timeless present that is contem pora­ neous with every other present.” The great canons, albeit once written in the distant past— hence its ineluctable “temporal quality that articu­ lates it historically”— will always yield some significant insight into the particular situation of the reader.75 Thus, to read the classics is to realize the communicative dialogic relation between the enduring texts as transmitted tradition and the hermeneut. In this interactive process, in which the reader and the text are locked in a “hermeneutic circle” where their questions and answers interpenetrate and unfold,76 Gadamer affirms the reader’s own biases in the hermeneutic enterprise. Indeed, he sees the fusing of the interpreter’s own historical horizons with that

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of the texts as the ontological basis of understanding. Our cognizance of the historical role of the texts is the very condition of our under­ standing of the texts. For instance, it will be quite a futile effort to attempt to understand the Bible without prior knowledge of the para­ mount influence of the Scripture in the historical life of the West. The understanding of any text is the result of the dynamic fusion of one’s own “effective historical consciousness,” consisting of one’s prejudg­ ments and the tradition of interpretation that preceded one, and the texts’. This “fusion of horizons” finally yields “effective history” for the hermeneut.77 Gong and Wei had their own prejudgments, namely, their philosophy predicated on the notion of change and the practical import of scholarship. They, together with the classical texts, entered into what Gadamer calls “a new community:” When we try to examine the hermeneutical phenomenon through the model of conversation between two persons, the chief thing that these apparently so differ­ ent situations—understanding a text and reaching an understanding in a conversa­ tion—have in common is that both are concerned with a subject matter that is placed before them....To reach an understanding in a dialogue is not merely a matter of putting oneself forward and successfully asserting one’s own point of view, but being transformed into a communion in which we do not remain what we were.78

Furthermore, this fusion of horizons not only brings about funda­ mental change in understanding, but it also in effect creates an occa­ sion for existential transformation. Indeed, Confucian hermeneutics saw understanding as integrally tied to action and commitment. Both Gong and Wei made it patently clear that to know the classical mes­ sages was to act on them in practical ways. In point of fact, this Confu­ cian conviction in praxis resonates with David Tracy’s conception of hermeneutics as praxis. Tracy asserts that “[ejvery tim e when [we] act, deliberate, judge, understand, or even experience, we are interpreting. To understand at all is to interpret. To act well is to interpret a situation demanding some action and to interpret a correct strategy for that ac­ tion, leading to his conclusion that hermeneutics must be used “as they should be used: as further practical skills for the central task of becom­ ing human.”79 Such praxis would have elicited a hearty endorsement from Gong and Wei. As with Gadamer and Tracy, Confucian hermeneuts like Gong and Wei took the classics or Scripture, the textual embodiment of a vital cultural tradition, as the locus of understanding. Their herm eneu­ tic reflection on the New Script classics was engagement with and par­

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ticipation in a cultural tradition. If we may generalize from our under­ standing of our particular case of Gong’s and W ei’s hermeneutics, Confucian exegesis was an interactive dialogue with a living past ensconced in the Classics. G ong’s and W ei’s New Script herm eneutics may also be viewed in a comparative perspective in terms o f Pierre B ourdieu’s theory of “ habitus.”80 If their forem ost goal was to help China ward off internal disaster and external threats, why did they not confine them selves to his practical and reform ist advocacy? Why did they elaborately gild his politico-econom ic proposals with classicist m essages? To answer these questions, one needs to look at G ong’s and W ei’s thoughts as outgrowths of a particular habitus, a durable system of dispositions constituted historically by the cultural and social conditions o f a par­ ticular social group: the Chinese literati. As Bourdieu explains, the dispositions are “structured structures predisposed to function as struc­ turing structures, that is, as principles of the generation and structur­ ing of practices and representations.”81 As a historically acquired system of “generative schemes,” it enables the “free production of all thoughts” that are “inherent in the particular [historical, social and cultural] conditions.” In other words, ideas and thoughts are never free-w heeling or free-floating. The historically and socially situated conditions of their germ ination set certain definable lim its so that they are not capricious and surprising novelties. On the other hand, they are far from a simple “mechanical reproduction of the original conditioning.” W hat the habitus makes possible is the generation of all the “reasonable” and “com m on-sense” ideas that are congruent with the objective historical conditions, while, without violence, ex­ cluding those that are at odds with the historical characteristics of a place and time. Habitus is “embodied history, internalized as a sec­ ond nature and so forgotten as history.” The past is the “accum ulated capital” which, although being enacted, is also acting in the produc­ tion of ideas. In this way, it “produces history on the basis of history and so ensures the perm anence of change.”82 W hat was the habitus in which Gong’s and W ei’s thought was nur­ tured? Gong and Wei were typical Confucian literati who sought the realization of the Way of heaven as the Way of humanity. Their New Script thought was inspired by the constant process of moral renewal guided by the dao. They were engaged in learning through which they came to grip with practical realities of the everyday world. They af­ firmed the intimate relationship between socio-political well-being and

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morality, and placed the onus of governance squarely on individuals. As learned scholars of the classics, they therefore nonetheless wrote prolifically on many aspects of statecraft. They were historians and philosophers of history, who charted the ebb and flow of history in terms of the morally charged New Script historicism. As political be­ ings, they confronted head-on the practical problems of their day, of­ fering concrete counsel as to how state and society could be ameliorated. In short, their works and thought were realizations of the cultural dis­ positions of a Confucian literatus, products of the Confucian habitusP M oreover, it should be rem embered that in G ong’s and W ei’s time, the study of the classics and the ultim ate goal to retrieve the m ean­ ings o f the sages’ words through painstaking philological investiga­ tions dom inated the Q ing world o f learning. W hat specifically constituted their cultural habitus in the first half of the nineteenth century was perhaps an unprecedented form of C onfucian “intellectualism ,” to employ Yii Y ing-shih’s term inology, in which clas­ sical texts and words, in and of them selves, becam e integral parts of ultim ate truth.84 Although it was true that Gong and Wei and oth­ ers had begun to react against the sterile scholastic form o f intellectualism and had jettisoned pure textual classical scholarship in favor o f practical reform ist advocacy and ethico-m oral discourse, classi­ cal studies rem ained the principal arena in which ideas were con­ tested and truths expounded.85 Gong and Wei em braced New Script C onfucian classicism because its central tenet o f revealing the pro­ found principles o f the classics concealed in cryptic language stood in sharp relief to the scholastic erudition of their contem poraries. N onetheless, both were them selves contributors to Qing “intellectualism .” To them , after all, the m ost intelligible and taken-forgranted means to propound truths was classicist exposition. Hence G ong’s and W ei’s pouring reform ist wines into classicist-historicist bottles.86 The language of the classics was, in their tim e, the “au­ thorized language,” to use again B ourdieu’s w ords.87 To put it an­ other way, fo r G ong and Wei, the authorized language was the language of herm eneutics, an integral part of their habitus. Exegetical endeavors, philosophic excogitations and reform ist actions per­ force becam e a seam less web. In sum, what Gong and Wei have to tell us is this: the engagem ent with old classical texts is not m erely to restate the facts entrapped in history, but it is also to rew ork them as living elem ents in a narrative relevant to present needs.

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Notes 1.

2. 3.

4.

5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Elsewhere, I have written on the jinwen learning of both Gong Zizhen and Wei Yuan, but in these earlier works, I did not explore in any great depth the contem­ porary hermeneutic implications of the duo’s classicism. See my “Revisiting Kung Tzu-chen’s (1792-1841) Chin-wen (New Text) Precepts: An Excursion in the History of Ideas,” Journal o f Oriental Studies 31.2 (July 93): 237-263, and “Worldmaking, Habitus and Hermeneutics: A Re-reading of Wei Yuan’s (17941856) New Script (chin-wen) Classicism,” in William Pencak, ed., Worldmaking (New York: Peter Lang, 1995), 57-97. I borrow the term from Brice R. Wachterhauser, “Introduction,” in Brice R. Wachterhauser, ed., Hermeneutics and Truth (Evanston: Northwestern Univer­ sity Press, 1994), 1. In contrast, certain contemporary hermeneutic assumptions would have been anathema in the Confucian scheme of things, namely, that words refer merely to other words, without general referential capacity; that texts are stormy linguistic seas in which truths and meanings are easily adrift; that meanings must be end­ lessly deferred along a string of signifiers; and that the self, both from the author’s and reader’s standpoints, is insubstantial at best, an ideological construction at worst. Such tenets are particularly pronounced in French post-structuralist herme­ neutics, where the distrust of the explicit meanings of words effectively means the end of the communicative power of the canons with regard to the delivery of truths and traditional values. Furthermore, the French mode of interpretation views tradition as something to be overcome and surmounted, insofar as most of the ideas embraced by the past thinkers were anchored on the false conscious­ ness of foundationalism. In the final analysis, the engagement with texts breeds merely self-referential paradoxes incapable of supporting any truth-claims. See for instance, Jean-Francois Lyotard, The Post-Modern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, trans. G. Bennington and B. Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984); Michel Foucault, “What is an Author?” in D. Bouchard, ed., Language, Counter-Memory; Practice (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977); Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, trans. (Baltimore: John Hopkins University, 1976) and “Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Science,” in R. Macksey and E. Donato, eds., The Lan­ guages of Criticism and the Sciences o f Man (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univer­ sity, 1970); Roland Barthes, ‘The Death of the Author,” Image, Music, Text, trans. S. Heath (New York: Hill and Wang, 1977). On the “contemporary” herme­ neutic implications of traditional Chinese exegesis, see Steven Van Zoeren, Po­ etry and Personality: Reading, Exegesis, and Hermeneutics in Traditional China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991), 3-7. For a discussion on the fundamental differences between the French deconstructionist and the German hermeneutic thinking, see Nathan Scott, Jr., “The House of Intellect in an Age of Carnival: Some Hermeneutic Reflections,” Journal o f the American Academy o f Religion 55.1 (Spring 1987): 8-13. The term in quotation marks is coined by Nathan Scott, Jr. See Scott, 13. David Tracy, The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture o f Pluralism (New York: Crossroads, 1981), 134. Ibid., 108. Robert M. Grant, with David Tracy, A Short History of the Interpretation o f the Bible, Second Edition (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 186. On these central ideas in Tracy’s systematic theology, see also his Blessed Rage

366

10. 11.

12. 13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22.

23. 24. 25.

Classics and Interpretations fo r Order: The New Pluralism in Theology (New York: Seabury Press, 1975) and Plurality and Ambiguity: Hermeneutics, Religion, Hope (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987). A succinct overview can also be found in chapters 16 through 18, in Tracy, Short History. On Zhuang’s and Liu’s jinwen learning, see my “Mid-Ch’ing New Text (chinwen) Classical Learning and Its Han Provenance: the Dynamics of a Tradition of Ideas,” East Asian History 8 (Dec. 1994), 1-32. Judith Whitbeck, “Kung Tzu-chen and the Redirection of Literati Commitment in Early Nineteenth-Century China,” CWing-shih wen-t’i 4.10:1-32 (Dec. 1983). See also Benjamin Elman, From Philosophy to Philology: Intellectual and So­ cial Aspects o f Change in Late Imperial China (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984), 275-90. For a concise discussion of the dynastic decline of the Qing and the problems therewith, see Susan Mann Jones and Philip A. Kuhn, “Dynastic Decline and the Roots of Rebellion,” in John K. Fairbank, ed., The Cambridge History o f China: Volume 10, Late CWing, 1800-1911, Part 1 (Cam­ bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 107-62. On the significance of this polarity in Qing thought, see Yii Ying-shih, “Some Preliminary Observations on the Rise of Ch’ing Confucian Intellectualism,” Tsinghua Journal o f Chinese Studies, new series, 11.1-2 (Dec. 1975): 107-8. It was Dong Zhongshu (797-104? b .c .e .) who first postulated a dual alternating cycle of simplicity and refinement in the developments of rites and institutions. According to Dong, the beginning of a dynasty saw the establishment of the cycle of simplicity emphasizing the spirit and feeling behind rites and ceremo­ nies. This cycle gradually gave way to the cycle of refinement concerned with external objects and artificiality, eventually leading to decadence. See Fung Yulan, A History o f Chinese Philosophy, trans. by Derk Bodde (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953), vol. 2, 74-5. See also Hok-lam Chan, Legitimation in Imperial China: Discussions under the Jurchen-Chin Dynasty (Seattle: Univer­ sity of Washington Press, 1984), 28-9. Gong Dingan quanji leibian (The categorized complete works of Gong Zhizhen) (Taibei: Shijie, 1960), 24-5. This work is hereafter cited as GDQL. Quoted in Zhang Shouan, “Gong Dingan yu Changzhou Gongyang xue” (Gong Zhizhen and the Gongyang learning in Changhou), Shumu jikan 13.2 (Sept. 1979): 10. GDQL, 160-1. GDQL, 369. GDQL, 126. GDQL, 57, 143. On Gong’s views on history, see Zhao Lingyang, “Lun Gong Zhizhen dui shi zhi guannian” (On Gong Zhizhen’s conception of history), in Chan Ping-leung et al., Collected Commemorative Essays on the Fiftieth Anniversary o f the Fung Ping-shan Library o f the Univrsity o f Hong Kong (Hong Kong: University of Hong Kong Press, 1982), 267-70, 273-6. GDQL, 127-8. The preface was entitled “Wujin Zhuang xiaozongbo yishuxu” (Preface to the bequeathed works of Zhuang, lineage head of Wujin), collected in Wei Yuan ji (Collected works of Wei Yuan) (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1983), 236-8. This collected works will be hereafter cited as WYJ. “Liu libu yisu xu” (Preface to Liu Fenglu’s beqeathed works), collected in WYJ, 241-3. WYJ, 241. WYJ, 242.

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26. Quoted in Chen Yaonan, Wei Yuan yanjiu (A study of Wei Yuan) (Hong Kong: Qianti, 1979), 52. 27. For a more detailed discussion on the varied elaborate expressions of these ew Script notions, see my, “id Ch’ing,” 3-10. 28. WYJ, 133. 29. On the Han New Text notions on the “three ages,” see my “Mid-Ch’ing,” 6-7. See also Duan Xizhong, “Gongyang Chunqiu sanshishuo tanyuan” (On the ori­ gin of the Kung-yang theory of the three ages), Zhonghua wenshi luncong 4, 67 (1963), and Huang Zhangjian, “Zhangsanshi guyi” (Ancient meanings of “un­ folding the three ages”), Xueyuan 1.8 (Dec. 1947), 15-19. 30. GDQL, 68. 31. GDQL, 165 32. GDQL, 382. 33. GDQL, 83. 34. GDQL, 75. 35. GDQL, 81. 36. Judith Whitbeck characterized Gong’s approach to the past as “historicist,” as opposed to “classicist,” because of his tendency to see truth embroiled constantly in the process of unfolding. See her ‘The Historical Vision of Kung Tzu-chen,” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1980), 57-8. Cf. Zhao Lingyang, 275. 37. GDQL, 75-6. 38. GDQL, 77-8. 39. GDQL, 133. 40. GDQL, 78-9. 41. A comprehensive discussion on the notion of dayitong in Han classical learning can be found in Yang Xiangkuei, Dayitong yu rujia sixiang (Jilin: Zhungguo yuyi, 1989), 20-55. 42. Whitbeck, “Historical Vision,” 57-8. 43. Zhao Lingyang, 273. 44. GDQL, 101. 45. GDQL, 105. 46. GDQL, 107. 47. GDQL, 105-6. 48. WYJ, 116. 49. This work is collected in Huang Qing jingjie xubian (Additions to the The Clas­ sical Exegeses o f the Qing Dynasty) (Taibei: Yiwen, 1961 reprint), 1280:la-b. This collection will be hereafter cited as HQJX. 50. HQJX, 1280:2a-5a. 51. WYJ, 117-8. 52. The quotes are found in Wu Ze, “Wei Yuan de bianyi sixiang he lishi jinhua guantian” (The idea of change and the view of historical evolution in the phi­ losophy of Wei Yuan), Lishiyanjiu 9.5 (Oct. 1965), 45-6. 53. WYJ, 48. 54. WYJ, 60-1. 55. WYJ, 48-9. 56. This statement appears in Wei’s Choucuo bian (An essy on the planning of the salt monopoly). See WYJ, 432. 57. This statement appears in another of Wei’s reformist writings, Daoguang bingshu haiyun ji (A record of sea transport in 1826). See WYJ, 418. 58. WYJ, 26-27 59. WYJ, 26-27.

368 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

68.

69. 70. 71. 72. 73.

74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83.

84. 85.

Classics and Interpretations WYJ, 72. WYJ, 258. Laozi benyi (Shanghai: Shangwu, 1947), 3, and WYJ, 254. Laozi benyi, 93. WYJ, 257. WYJ, 258. WYJ, 256. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Signs (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1964), 10-11. On the question of the perpetual relevance of the “classics,” see Albert William Levi, Philosophy as Social Expression (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), 301-18. I have elsewhere examined in greater detail this particular question. See my “Ne­ gotiating the Boundary between Hermeneutics and Philosophy: Li Kuang-ti’s (1642-1718) Study of the Doctrine of the Mean (Chung-yung) and Great Learn­ ing (Ta-hsueh),” in Kai-wing Chow, John Henderson and On-cho Ng, eds., Ne­ gotiating Boundaries: Redefinitions o f Doctrines and Texts in Confucianism (forthcoming). Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity, 12. Tracy, Analogical Imagination, 132-4. Frank Kermode, The Classic (New York: Viking Press, 1975), 44-5. Tracy, Analogical Imagination, 102. Ibid., 118-122. See also avid Couzens Hoy, The Critical Circle: Literature and History in Contemporary Hermeneutics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 41-78. Hoy’s characterization of the hermeneutic procedures is based on his understanding of Gadamer’s methods. Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, trans. revised by Joel Weisheimer and Donald G. Marshall (New York: Continuum, second revised edition, 1994), 358. Ibid., 288. Ibid., 265-71, 291-300. Ibid., 300-307. Ibid., 378-9. Tracy, Plurality, 9. Cf. my “Worldmaking,” 90-97, and my “An Early Qing Critique of the Philoso­ phy of Mind-Heart (Xin): the Confucian Quest for Doctrinal Purity and the ‘Doxic’ Role of Chan Buddhism,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, forthcoming. Bourdieu, Outline o f a Theory o f Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Cambridge: Cam­ bridge University Press, 1977), 71-2. Bourdieu, Logic o f Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990), 55-58. Iam describing these paradigmatic attributes of Wei Yuan as a Confucian litera­ ture in accordance with those of an ideal-type Confucian intellectual, as depicted by Tu Wei-ming. See “The Way, Leaning, and Politics in Classical Confucian Humanism,” in Tu Wei-ming, Way, Learning, and Politics: Essays on the Confu­ cian Intellectual (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 1 For a definition of the term as used by Yu, see Yu, 137. On the “fracturing” of the Qing philological classical learning, see Benjamin Elman, From Philosophy to Philology: Intellectual and Social Aspects o f Change in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1984), 233-48. On Wei Yuan’s dissatisfaction with kaozheng philology, see Benjamin Elman, “The Relevance of Sung Learning in the late Qing: Wei Yuan and the Huangch ’ao ching-shih wen-pien,” Late Imperial China 9.2 (Dec. 1988), 56-85.

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86. Cf. Bourdieu, Outline, 164-68. 87. Bourdieu, Outlne, 170.

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18 Mediating Word, Sentence, and Scope with­ out Violence: Janies Legge’s Understanding of “Classical Confucian” Hermeneutics Lauren Pfister

A Nineteenth-Century Entry into the Forest of Ruist Scholars A s a late twentieth century student of (mostly past) Ruist/Confucian lives and works, I have been startled by the diversity of Ruist herme­ neutic traditions through my persistent reading of the extensive trans­ lations, explanations, and interpretations of James Legge (1815-1897). Whether it has been because of my own denseness or a matter of more extensive twentieth- century academic biases, sinological Orientalism (or both), I gradually realized that the canonical Ruist texts and their forest of commentators were not as narrowly expressive as I first con­ ceived. Rather than studying apothegms of the Lunyu f$} §§ in a mod­ em English translation with almost no interpretive context, stumbling in a vast vacuum of linguistic insensitivity and thrown almost com­ pletely into reliance on my well-meaning teachers, I faced in Legge’s dense “Analects” a classical text garnished with a host of interpretive seasonings.1 Once hooked, I learned quickly that Legge read and interpreted the Ruist scriptures intertextually, portraying the multiple “Classical Con­ fucian” works as a whole and integrated tradition, or at least one aspir371

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ing to be whole and integrated. This diversity in the degree of whole­ ness and integratedness became a living issue for me through the set of varying interpretive traditions Legge him self read and evaluated as a “W estern Ru ,” Li Yage 3 j§-, living in the early British colonial setting of “Hongkong .”2Through persistent study of his prolegomena and commentarial notes— beclouded at times by varying and inconsis­ tent transliterations, a head-spinning list of Ruist and non-Chinese com­ mentators, and his own patiently worked out and trenchant Christian evaluations— I gradually became convinced it was worth trying to sys­ tem atize Legge’s references to Ruist commentators and discover what this approach revealed about his knowledge of Ruist traditions. That odyssey is now coming to a closure in a two-volume biography and a future critical edition of his magnum opus .3 From the stimulus of Legge’s engagement with authoritative Ruist texts and the several hundred Chinese commentators he cites in his commentarial notes within the five volumes of his Chinese Classics (hereafter CC), I have reread other old and new Ruist works with new interest and a variety of new concerns .4Here I would like to present a more articulate version of his nineteenth century awareness o f a diver­ sity of hermeneutic traditions with Ruist scholarly works on the Ruist “classics.” Although I believe it also would be worthwhile to reflect on the significance of that diversity in a more self-conscious way, now, as we meet here in the USA at the end of the twentieth century, I will only mention a few issues relating to this question after reflecting on Legge’s understanding of “Classical Confucian” hermeneutics. For some the Christian pre-understanding guiding Legge’s transla­ tions and commentaries is an almost detestable and distortive element in his work, but from a principled hermeneutic point of view this should be seriously questioned .5 A “text’s alterity,” according to Gadamer, comes alive as one is “aware of one’s own bias.” By this it means the text being investigated can “present itself in all its otherness” to the attentive and self-conscious reader, and so have a dialogic point to “as­ sert its own truth against one’s own fore-m eanings .”6Legge’s self-con­ scious Nonconformist Protestant commitments, thought out through Biblical hermeneutics and the principles of Scottish Commonsense philosophy, pervades his interpretive interaction with these authorita­ tive Chinese texts and their numerous indigenous commentators. The story of Legge’s gradual adjustment of his final evaluations of M aster Kong (“Confucius”) is perhaps the m ost outstanding illustration that he, over a period of more than thirty years, sought to be open-hearted

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and mentally disciplined in facing the “alterity” of the Ruist authori­ ties, their texts, and their exemplary figures .7That narrative we will not repeat, but rather we will turn to the situations of the canonical texts and the Ruist scholars who attracted him as he mapped out the diver­ sity of hermeneutic traditions in the Ruist interpretations of those texts.

Attractions of a Menclan Hermeneutic On the flyleaf of each volume of his Chinese Classics Legge printed a passage from the Chinese text of Mencius 5A: 4. Taking it out of its original context, the saying reads in English as follows :8 Do not insist on one term so as to do violence to a sentence, nor on a sentence so as to do violence to the general scope. Use your thoughts to meet that scope, and then you will apprehend it.

Trained in Neo-Aristotelean logic and the principles of interpretation through the Scottish Commonsense philosophers Thomas Reid (17101796) and Dugald Stewart (1753-1828), Legge was immediately at­ tracted to this kind of statement. Here was a general set of principles for interpreting any text, matching the universal scope of Aristotelean logic and providing a productive praxis for grasping the understanding of any particular passage. In the original context M aster M eng was explaining why a particular passage in the Shijing (Legge’s title being the Book O f Poetry) had been misinterpreted by a lesser disciple, Xianqiu M eng /§£ Jr|5 H . W hether M engzi -f- him self actually in­ tended it as a universally applicable principle of interpretation is an important question which he does not address, as far as we can tell. Nevertheless, Legge employed it in this manner, and consequently faced some very interesting interpretive problems in other portions of the Ruist canon. In general Legge found this Mencian hermeneutic principle a strong handle in deciphering different approaches and varying interpretations with the Ruist commentarial works on the Four Books and Five Clas­ sics. His prodigious efforts in translation and cross-cultural exegesis, including ramblings in comparative philosophical and comparative re­ ligious issues, set a new standard for sinology in his own day, and es­ sentially established the sinological canon of the “Confucian Classics.” For this reason it seems particularly significant that we see again what Legge himself encountered in reading and evaluating such a wide range of classical Chinese literature. W hat is relatively unexpected is that he

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was a fairly independent and non-partisan interpreter, choosing not to follow any one school or major thinker, but rendering each text accord­ ing to the best interpretations he found within the Ruist scholastic world. Although some have considered Legge’s attachm ent to the Song dynasty giant, Zhu Xi 7^ : ^ (1130-1200), as his greatest distinction, and others have suggested that he was intimately reliant on the inter­ pretive guideposts he received from Wang Tao 3 Ei@ (1822-1897), his collaborator for just over ten years (from 1862 to 1873), these are vast simplifications. In fact, Legge read broadly enough to list commenta­ tors from all the m ajor dynasties, and varied his estim ate of their com­ ments according to his evaluation o f their insight into the particular text at hand. Having taught the Four Books in the Anglo-Chinese Col­ lege to Chinese students for nearly twenty years, and then having regu­ larly translated and retranslated the classical texts before he committed him self to publishing them, Legge had ample time to read broadly and deeply in the Ruist commentaries and to amass a large system of notes. The results were that his translations were generally fair and balanced, even though awkwardly stated at times, and his comments portrayed a distinctively personal commitment almost always grounded in some Ruist precedent. So, for example, Legge appreciated Zhu X i’s com­ ments on the Analects and his moralistic reading o f the Shijing, the latter being close to his own nineteenth century Victorian values, but he strongly and systematically opposed Zhu’s handling of the Great Learning, and considered his rejection of the Kong Anguo JL $ HU (active circa 130 b .c .e .- 90 b .c .e .) text of the Shujing ^ to be an egregious error. In the case of Wang Tao, Legge rejected W ang’s more radical interest in the New Text of the Shujing, but considered his colleague’s attachm ent to the Mao school on the Shijing too narrow and conservative. Legge him self preferred the Zuo Commentary (Zuozhuan /j£f|J) on the Spring and Autumn Annals, the better and more valuable of the traditional commentaries, and so effectively cut him­ self off from the more liberal hermeneutic principles and texts which later became important to the more radical reformists epitomized by KangYouwei g t ^ J i (1858-1927). Although many more examples of Legge’s reading of Ruist herme­ neutic traditions can be mentioned, all of which employed a careful balancing between the meanings of words and sentences in light of a broader grasp of the canonical “general scope” of any one Ruist scrip­ ture, there are also some distinctive problems Legge faced in holding to this M encian principle. By reviewing these problems in more detail,

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a more precise sense of Legge’s awareness of the multiplicity of Ruist hermeneutic traditions becomes evident.

Textual Disruption and the Search for Authoritative Meanings Two particularly outstanding problems troubled Legge’s straight­ forward application of this “M encian hermeneutic principle.” First of all, the muddled textual history of the Daxue which Legge coined the Great Learning, was a particularly touchy issue in Qing dynasty Ruist discussions. As a translator, Legge felt obliged to present the standard text, and Zhu X i’s reconstructed text had received Qing impe­ rial support. But Legge knew of the discussions regarding the system­ atic but rationalistically arbitrary reordering o f the text by Zhu Xi and other Song dynasty scholars, and struggled on the basis of Zhu X i’s own hermeneutic principles with its justification .9Having read a num ­ ber of the more recent studies on this problem, Legge relied on M ao Qiling’s (1623-1716) thorough research into the textual his­ tory and pointed out that four additional ways of reorganizing the text based on other “interpretive commitments” had been developed by later scholars .10This kind of “subjective orientation” permits a level of “play­ ing with the text” which is liberating and creative, but tends toward interpretive chaos, especially when it is an authoritative text in a main tradition. Such tampering with interpretive methods prejudices the re­ sults and does not fully engage the text’s alterity .11 In this context the hermeneutic problem becomes acute: which text constitutes the “gen­ eral scope” for the Ruist tradition and its interpreters? Without answer­ ing this question first, the process of coming to an understanding of any passage is stifled or neutralized. The second hindrance to a straightforward application of the M encian hermeneutic principle Legge identified was caused by the convoluted textual history of the Shujing, which Legge entitled the Book o f His­ torical Documents. W hether any element of the text retrieved from the ideologically motivated destruction of the work during the reign of the First Emperor of the Qin (221 B.C.E.-210 b .c .e .) was reliable was a knotty question. Debates between the Old and New Text Ruist scholars on these issues were complex, and Legge was deeply taxed by them, debating them point by point with Wang Tao, who joined him in the interpretive work in the fall of 1862. Interpretive questions on the ear­ liest portions of the canonical text also involved a m ajor Daoist fore­ understanding in arguing over the historical relevance of the “Tablet of

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Yu.” How Legge resolved these problems unquestionably involves his reading of the diversity of hermeneutic traditions among various Ruist schools. In the case of the deconstruction-reconstruction of the Great Learn­ ing, Legge found much fuel for thought not only in the work of Mao Qiling, but also in a contemporary juren scholar from Guangdong prov­ ince, Luo Zhongfan (d. circa 1850). W hile both of these Ruist scholars were following the precedent of Wang Yangming 3 l Hr (1472-1529) in opposing the imposition o f a new textual order on the Great Learning, which was a more ancient text and chapter of the Book o f Rites (Liji fUSS XLuo presented the more unusual and systematic argument. Opposing the “New School” (xinxue fff'!p) of Zhu Xi, which based its reorganization of the text on a prior commitment to “renew­ ing the people” (xinmin S ) and all that this implied for self-cultiva­ tion and methods of government, Luo argued that the resultant text systematically and extravagantly misread the ancient “original” text. Preferring instead an interpretive direction stemming from “caring for the people” (qinmin H J5;), Luo articulated a point-by-point alterna­ tive position within the old text of the Great Learning, basing it meta­ physically on a highly enriched kind of Shangdi-ist _h ^ monotheism .12 Although Legge found Luo’s argument forced in certain places, the overall critique of Zhu X i’s subjectivist handling of the text Legge fully accepted .13 A tangential question regarding this particular problem is Legge’s systematic avoidance of discussing Wang Yangming’s approach to the canon. Wang’s basic position was that meditative techniques would confirm the truths of the Ruist scriptures without requiring a previous knowledge of them, essentially de-authoritizing the hierarchy of au­ thoritative texts and commentarial interpretive praxis. Many other Ruists found this too restrictive, and so there were others like the influential Zhan Ruoshui tfi j£=r tR (1466-1560) who preferred a more interactive model of interpretive experience, permitting some freedom in experi­ encing truths while not denying the need to learn them in a more aca­ demic setting. Zhan’s approach is significant not only as a mediating position that made Wang Yangming’s radical claims more palatable to a larger group of Ruists, but also because he taught for one period of time in the Guangdong region (in the Nanhai $jjj district, Xiqiaoshan ® fH |J L| village) not far from what 300 years later would become Hong Kong. It is from this town that Legge’s co-pastor and colleague, He Jinshan (1817-1871), came. Although no direct transmission

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of teachings were followed from Zhan to He, there was a connection between Zhan’s teacher, Chen Baisha ^ , and the interpretive commitments of Luo Zhongfan. So it appears that there may have been a more open and metaphysically enriched set of Ruist interpretive teach­ ings and praxis which may have provided a particularly important open­ ing for a more dynamic and critical hermeneutic as well as a willingness to hear other worldviews (including the Christian claims Legge pro­ moted ).14 The resolution of the Shujing controversy took far more effort from Legge, but in the end he chose a more conservative position, support­ ing the Old Text tradition received through the Han scholar Kong Anguo as a reliable textual basis for both the canonical text and its oldest commentary .15W hat is hermeneutically important here is that the Ruist traditions were in an interpretive crisis, a watershed o f canonical com­ mitments which would erupt into the radical reformist teachings of Kang Youwei in the last decade of the nineteenth century. Interpretive license was created because of the loss of anchorage in a historically reliable text, and Legge believed, even in spite of Wang Tao’s more New Text leanings ,16that there was enough historical justification to accept Kong Anguo’s text as the interpretive standard. A more penetrating problem came in inquiring after the historical “genuineness” of the information in this textus receptus. Here Legge’s cultural training became a m ajor compass in directing him to the skep­ tical side of Ruist traditions. The “Tablet of Yu,” an ancient stele claimed to have been found in a particular place in the Han dynasty by a Daoist monk, had been employed as a justification for the historical reliability of the claims about this sage king’s reign and his works. Once again following the details of the history of the text, Legge relies on the em ­ pirical investigations of Han Yu (768-824) and Zhu Xi, both of whom went to the appropriate mountain to search for the tablet, in order to reach a conviction that the tablet was a “farrago .”17 Such a division of opinions existed on this issue among Ruist scholars, many of their varying opinions being typified by Legge in his account of the problem, that Legge was forced to take a position based on historical credibility and any empirical data which might be falsifiable. These necessarily invoked his commitments, his fore-understanding, drawn from Commonsense philosophy and Biblical hermeneutic traditions and applied to the Ruist traditions. Yet in calling them up as criteria for historical judgments, Legge was also able to locate Ruist precedents following very similar lines of investigation and judgment.

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In both of the above situations the M encian hermeneutic principle was initially left inoperable because there was no overwhelming con­ sensus between Ruist interpreters of different periods (or even in the same period in a number of cases) about the textual basis for interpret­ ing the relevant classic. Legge recognized that this diversity existed within Ruist traditions, and used his own independent judgm ent based on extensive readings in the commentarial traditions in order to come to a resolution acceptable to his own nineteenth century Western Ruist rules for justification and warrant. W herever possible, however, he so­ lidified his evaluations by reliance on a Ruist precedent that antici­ pated his own judgment. Essentially this meant that Legge reviewed a large pool of interpretive positions, assessed them and summarized the major positions, and then made his judgm ents about them on the basis of his own reading of the authoritative text he had before him. The interaction between commentaries and canonical texts was evident, but the weight of authority always rested for Legge on the canonical work, a commitment consistent with his own Biblical hermeneutics training.

Mediating and Meddling For many scholars well versed in the Ruist canon the fact that a diversity of hermeneutic positions exists among relevant works may seem an innocuous claim. Certainly there are a variety of competen­ cies which may lead to diversification in interpretations and even the principles used in determining the meaning of classical passages. But what Legge found was more fundamental than this. Ruist scholastics had a variety of hermeneutic principles; some interpreters were willing to interpose more subjectively heavy interests into the texts and their interpretation, while others supported forms of interpretive praxis that nearly eliminated the authority of the canonical texts. Legge’s own proclivities drove him to appreciate the more rationalized and gram­ matical-historical approach to words, passages, and whole texts. Within the classical texts he rooted himself in the M encian hermeneutic prin­ ciple because it offered universalizable guidelines for approaching the wide variety of literature constituting the Ruist canon as he encoun­ tered it in the 19th century Qing dynasty context. Furthermore, Legge illustrated the variety of hermeneutic principles in his works, particularly when they touched problematic areas where the canon itself was inadequately defined. This suggests, as Henderson has pointed out, that the Ruist canonical traditions were more open and

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less determined in certain areas, a factor not often seen in prophetic religions with clearly defined sacred texts .18 But beyond this was the whole question of how a sage’s mind interacted with the text, a kind of transcendent encounter between the recorded dictates of a past sage and the experiential confirmations of a practicing and cultivated inter­ preter. At tim es I have wondered if the traditional conception of sageliness included a mind transcending space and time, and so able to communicate and grasp the wisdom of the Human Way untampered by any historical distortions. For Wang Yangming it may have been so, but for others more intent on not doing violence to texts, I suspect their vision of sageliness was more historically dynamic. From the point of view of a hermeneutical ontology, it is clear that Legge also discovered Ruist hermeneutic principles which were more subjectivistic (such as Wang Yangming’s), but he him self preferred and argued for the “more reliable” positions of those who took the alterity of the text as a given. It is this fundamental division in Ruist herme­ neutic traditions that is very significant ontologically, both in asserting the authority and presence of a text and, possibly, the sage-mind that is accessible through it. Here is involved an approach to hermeneutics which could invoke the metaphysical presence of a sagely ancestor or some higher being. Precisely in this context it is Luo Zhongfan’s Shangdi-ist position which opens some new light into the diversity of nineteenth century Ruist interpretive options. W hat does this all mean now at the end of the twentieth century in the USA? The significance of these withered “Confucian” traditions may have touched realms of intellectual life here, but the academically narrowed teaching of traditional Ruist texts bears out the evidence for there being rather a threatening existential Ruist cultural vacuum. This is more than some Chinese scholars would like to admit, and is some­ thing that many of us would like to transcend. The diversity of Ruist hermeneutic traditions remains a major factor in these moments of cri­ sis, one which may yet offer some creative cultural alternatives not usually discussed among sinologists or academics in Chinese studies .19

Notes 1.

Growth in Chinese language skills helped immensely, as well, but linguistic com­ petence does not always entail conceptual understanding. I take my personal

380

2.

3.

4.

5.

6. 7.

8.

Classics and Interpretations development in both areas to be correlated, but not determined in some more mechanical way of simple and progressive advancement. This made my reading of Henderson’s broad-minded work on Confiician exege­ sis a delight, finding there a far more explicit account of the diversity I had already discovered as I followed Legge’s notes into other sources. See John B. Henderson, Scripture, Canon, and Commentary: A Comparison o f Confucian and Western Exegesis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), particularly 48-61. The first work includes Norman Girardot’s book for the University of California Press entitled The Whole Duty O f Man: James Legge (1815-1897) and the Victo­ rian Translation o f China, and my own book, Dutybound: James Legge and the Scottish Encounter with China, for which I am still seeking a publisher. The latter is an on-going collaborative effort with two Chinese scholars (Professor Liu Jiahe of Beijing Normal University and Dr. Shao Dongfang of the National University of Singapore), preparing critical apparati for all five volumes of Legge’s Chinese Classics, to be published by the Hong Kong Uni­ versity Press. See in particular a work on metaphysical questions within the writings of five “New Ruist” scholars in my article, ‘The Different Faces of Contemporary Reli­ gious Confucianism: An Account of the Diverse Approaches of Some Major Twentieth Century Chinese Confucian Scholars,” Journal o f Chinese Philoso­ phy 22:1 (March 1995), 5-79. In this regard one can appreciate the intensity of the critique in Eugene Chen Eoyang’s book, The Transparent Eye: Reflections on Translation, Chinese Lit­ erature, and Comparative Poetics (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1993), 170-177. While criticizing Legge’s eisegetical reading of Christian ideas into the dicta of the Analects, Eoyang assumes there is a single reading of the work. He is a serious enough scholar to point to alternative understandings of the interpre­ tive significance of Legge’s work (through H.G. Creel). Concerned about forced translations and their misdirections, a very legitimate concern, Eoyang evaluates Legge’s works without a thorough reading or correct grasp of a number of Legge’s nineteenth century Ruist studies. Nevertheless, his work is a great advance in sinological self-understanding over the dismissive attitudes shown by some con­ temporary academics against nineteenth century “missionary-scholars” in sinological circles. Quoted from Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth And Method, trans. revised by Joel Weinsheimer and Donald B. Marshall (New York: The Continuum Publishing Company, 1994), 269. The radical difference in his final evaluation of Kongfuzi in his prolegomena to the first volume of the Chinese Classics (CC1), developing from the first edition in 1861 to the second edition in 1893, is presented and partially explained in my article, “Some New Dimensions in the Study of the Works of James Legge (1815-1897): Part II,” Sino-Western Cultural Relations Journal XIII (1992), 45-48. Legge’s development in this area is a complex issue involv­ ing the crystallization of a particular form of missiological strategy as a mission­ ary-scholar, his interpretive growth as an active participant in Ruist studies over the decades of his work, and the influences of his colleague at Oxford during his second career, Friedrich Max Muller. These issues are addressed in the book written by Norman Girard Based on Legge’s rendering in CC2,353. In the commentarial notes on the same page Legge explains “the general scope” (zhi ) as “the mind or aim of the writer.”

Mediating Word, Sentence, and Scope without Violence 9.

10. 11.

12.

13.

14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

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So earlier, in his notes to Analects (8:12, CC1,212), Legge refuses to accept Zhu Xi’s creative identification of a homophone to replace one word and resolve a problematic passage, because, “we are not at liberty to admit alterations of the text, unless, as received, it be absolutely unintelligible.” Yet Legge is willing to accept another interpretive principle made by Zhu Xi where it reflects a pruden­ tial attitude toward understanding the text {Analects 14: 31, CC1, 287). Here Legge cites the discussion of one of his favorite commentators, the early Qing Ruist “Mao Hsi-ho” (Mao Xihe , or Mao Qiling), CC1, prol., 25. So Gadamer criticized Schleiermacher’s “psychological and subjective orienta­ tion” on similar grounds, because it does not “limit the text” or anchor it in a justifiable historical form. See his essay on “Hermeneutics and Historicism,” translated in Truth And Method, 522-523. Certainly there are deconstructionists who would completely disagree with this point in Gadamer’s hermeneutics, but this is because they disagree over the “limiting” function of canonization and interpretive authorities. A very thorough exegetical and interpretive essay on this new genre of Ruist literature, a Shangdi-ist rendering of the Great Learning in a traditional Ruist commentarial style, forms the major part of my article “Monotheistic Metaphys­ ics in the Ming-Ch’ing Imperial Worship and Ruist Canon: The Exegetical Re­ flections of James Legge and Lo Chung-fan,” in Imagining Boundaries: Changing Confucian Doctrines, Texts, and Practice in History, a book submitted to the State University of New York Press and edited by On-cho Ng, Kai-wing Chow, and John B. Henderson. This has very much to do also with Legge’s criticism of Zhu Xi’s epistemologi­ cal position in the sixth chapter of the commentarial section of the Great Learn­ ing in Zhu’s text. Legge’s criticism was supported by Luo’s own criticism of Zhu’s more populist reading of the self-cultivation leading to sagehood. When Daniel Gardner challenged Legge’s understanding of Zhu Xi at this point, he was unaware of Legge’s reliance on this other Qing Ruist’s reading and criticism of Zhu Xi’s epistemology. See Daniel K. Gardner, Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon (Cambridge: Harvard Uni­ versity Press, 1986), 106-107. A discussion of He Jinshan’s works and their significance is found in my recent article, “A Transmitter but not a Creator: The Creative Transmission of Protes­ tant Biblical Traditions by Ho Tsun-sheen (1817-1871),” forthcoming in Pro­ ceedings o f the International Conference on The Bible and Chinese Culture, published by Monumenta Serica (Germany), 1997. See Legge’s extensive discussion of the Redactionsgeschichte of the Book Of Historical Documents, in CC3, prol., 15-46, esp. 38-45. See CC3, prol., 40. See the extensive argument regarding the historical reliability of Yu’s works and the forgery of the “Tablet of Yu” in CC3, prol., 54-80, esp. 68-69 for his reliance on Han Yu and Zhu Xi. See John B. Henderson, Scripture, Canon, and Commentary, 49-50, 53-54. Here I am thinking particularly of the Confucian-style Chinese Christianity, which has been a living tradition but is passing through its own changes in these days of cultural decline. In some cases there are signs of Chinese Christians becoming more and more self-conscious of their cultural options for expressing their reli­ gious ethos, including a return to certain Ruist styles of interaction and social values. By recalling its roots, as in the life and works of He Jinshan (Ho Tsunsheen), Xie Fuya W & f k and others, there is a new interest in some of these matters. But the anti-traditional forms of modem life are making a large impact

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Classics and Interpretations in these realms as well. See my articles touching on some of these issues in “From Western Studies to Global Order: Reflections on the Writings of Xie Fuya,” Ching Feng 34:4 (December 1991), 245-262, and “Reconfirming the Way: Per­ spectives from the Writings of Rev. Ho Tsun-sheen,” Ching Feng 36:4 (Decem­ ber 1993), 218-259. Another interesting probe into these areas is the trialogue between Ts’ai Jen-hou H fZ i p , Chou Lien-hua Jp| Jgjjlji , and Leung In-sing »Huitong yu zhuanhua: Jidujiao yu xinrujia de duihua ^ 3 •S g eftjfj-fg (Taipei: Universal Light Pub., 1985). A different ap­ proach has been taken by the Korean Ruist-Christian scholar Bong-ho Ahn in his work summarized in German in an article entitled “Confucianism and Christian­ ity in the twenty-first Century—In the Light of the Sung Cyung Theology,” pub­ lished in The Proceedings o f the Fifth International Symposium on Christian Culture and Theology (212-228) held at Soongsil University, Seoul, October 2729, 1997. Professor Ahn’s work includes a massive volume in Korean which thoroughly illustrates the synthetic approach of Korean Ruist-Christian options based on the Zhong-yong and New Testament Theology.

19 Philosophical Hermeneutics and Political Reform: A Study of Kang Youwei’s Use of Gongyang Confucianism Young-tsu Wong IVlodem scholars have examined how Kang Youwei made use of the Confucian classics to reject the accepted Confucian tradition of his own time on the one hand and to introduce political reform on the other. In this study, I shall undertake, first, to explain under what cir­ cumstances Kang became a New-texter, in particular subscribing to the Gongyang doctrine; second, to show why his interpretation of Con­ fucianism and sweeping denunciations of the well-established Old Script Confucian canon resulted in a virtual intellectual revolution; third, to present in some detail his practice of hermeneutic discourse as a strat­ egy to make Confucius, the Chinese sage, his fellow traveler on the road to set a new course for China; and fourth, to evaluate the effect of his Confucian exegesis on the Chinese scene. I shall proceed by examining the discourse and context of Kang’s three major works on Confucianism, namely, Xinxue weijing kao (An Inquiry into the Forged Classics of the Xin Dynasty), Kongzi gaizhi kao (On Confucius as a Reformer), and Chunqiu Dongshi xue (A Study of Dong Zhongshu’s Interpretation of the Annals), completed between 1891 and 1896. These works laid down the intellectual foundation of his political action from the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War in 1894 to the eve of the great reform movement culminating in the summer of 1898. His view of Confucianism surely had its effects on his political fortunes. The interaction of philosophical hermeneutics (Gadamer 1976) 383

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and political reform in Kang Youwei presents an interesting case study, an inquiry into which may help us arrive at a better understanding of Kang’s intellectual scope and fundamental concerns .1

Embracing Gongyang Confucianism Having reached his intellectual maturity not too long after 1884, Kang “departed from Old Script Confucianism and sought truth in the doctrines of the Gongyang school” (Kang 1976,9:2). This switch from the learning of Old Script to that of New Script appeared sudden, be­ cause as late as 1880 he still attacked the celebrated New Script scholar He Xiu (129-182 C.E.), the author of Chunqiu gongyang xue jiegu (In­ terpretations of the Gongyang Commentary of the Spring and Autumn Annals). A few years later, however, Kang “realized his mistake” and retracted his critical views of He Xiu. Kang threw away his old views reportedly after having read Liao Ping’s (1852-1932) works (Liang 1985: 63). K ang’s indebtedness to Liao seems certain, but Liao’s re­ peated accusations of plagiarism are perhaps overly exaggerated. Apart from their differences, it is true that many important theses Kang de­ veloped in An Inquiry into the Forged Classics and On Confucius as a Reformer are substantially identical to Liao’s works published a little earlier; however, we cannot rule out the possibility of independent find­ ing of the same conclusions, as K.C. Hsiao argued alm ost four decades ago (1959:129). Hsiao further pointed out that Kang seldom acknowl­ edged other scholars and, even if Kang, indeed, borrowed from Liao, Kang really used Liao’s ideas “to serve widely different purposes” (Hsiao 1959: 129, 130-31; Hsiao 1975: 67-69; cf. Wang 1983: 108). Fundamentally, Kang never held a narrow academic interest as Liao did. Thinking of socio-political reforms, Kang was determined to make scholarship serve practical purposes, and the Gongyang school of Con­ fucianism met his needs best. In other words, Kang found “truth” in the Gongyang doctrine of the New Script school due more to the na­ ture of the text than to the influence of Liao .2 The Chunqiu (The Spring and Autumn Annals)? a chronology of the state of Lu, has often been accepted as the only classic written by Confucius himself, regardless of the controversy over authorship. The well-known Zuo Zhuan (Zuo Commentary) explains Confucius’ subtle ideas encrypted in the Annals, and it carries on the hermeneutic tradi­ tion of the Annals in the form of historical narrative. However, the Gongyang Zhuan (Gongyang Commentary), composed in a dialog form,

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engages philosophical discourse in order to unlock “esoteric dicta and great dogmas” (weiyan dayi), and most of its legal and moral prece­ dents were transmitted orally by the Gongyang masters generation af­ ter generation. Unlike historical narratives which stress factual accuracy, philosophical discourse gave Gongyangists the leverage to express their own, sometimes arbitrary, views. If Confucius as a charismatic vision­ ary used Chunqiu, or the Annals, to unveil new in stitutions, a Gongyangist like Kang could as well use Confucius to show his own vision of new institutions. Gongyang Confucianism reem erged in eighteenth century Qing China after over a thousand years’ neglect. Zhuang Cunyu (1719-1788), a man of catholic learning, initiated the revival of the New Script exegetical tradition without excluding the Old Script Classics. His dis­ ciples, in particular Liu Fenglu (1776-1829) and Song Xiangfeng (1776-1860), established the Changzhou school of New Script studies with the Gongyang Commentary on the Annals as the principal and indispensable source (cf. Elman 1990:74-256; Ng 1994: 1-32). Wei Yuan (1794-1857) and Gong Zizhen (1792-1841), both had studied with the masters of the Changzhou New Script school, became famous as ardent statecraft advocates in a time of dynastic decline, and ac­ knowledged their intellectual debt to New Script Confucianism. Dai Wang (1837-1873) from Zhejiang spread the Changzhou school of New Script studies from the Yangzi Delta into Hunan in the central Yangzi valley, and then from Hunan across the hills into Guangdong (Zhang 1985:118). Liao Ping of Sichuan learned the New Script Clas­ sics from Wang Kaiyun (1833-1916), a prominent Hunanese advocate of Gongyang Confucianism. Kang Youwei was familiar with the New Script scholarship in his native Guangdong before his intellectual en­ counter with Liao Ping. M odem scholars have often dubbed Kang Youwei the last great New Script Confucian scholar in the history of Confucianism. From a strict academic point of view, however, Kang might not even be considered a genuine New Script scholar at all. In terms of scholarly transmission, he was not at all a synthesizer like Zhu Xi (1130-1200) in the tradition of Neo-Confucianism. We may argue that Kang was not a specialist in the Confucian classics in the pure scholarly sense. His knowledge of Gongyang Confucianism owed much to New Script scholars from Zhuang Cunyu to Liao Ping, but he did not entirely follow their schol­ arship. Kang’s efforts “should be appraised not as a scholarly contribu­ tion to classical studies,” as Kung-chuan Hsiao put it, “but as a practical

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influence on the course of events and on the subsequent history of China” (1975:101). This being the case, Kang invoked the name of New Script or Gongyang Confucianism to promote his own ends, and had no obli­ gation to observe the established “canon of the school” (jiafa) faith­ fully. The most obvious case in point was his clear-cut rebuttal of the theory of “expelling barbarians” (rangyi) prominent in the Gongyang doctrine, because it was compatible neither with his reformist stand nor with his fundamental belief in the “Great Community” (datong), or the harmony of all men in the world. Hence, Kang’s turn to New Script Confucianism in the late 1880s was mainly in the interest of contemporary concerns rather than a schol­ arly conversion. In fact, he him self made this very clear in a letter to his friend and critic Zhu Yixin — |Jj (Rongsheng H^E., 1846-1894) in 1891: The reason that I was suddenly able to make a clear distinction between the [true] New Script from the [false] Old Script was not because of my superior intelli­ gence or my wild imagination, but because I was bom after the [tumultuous] 1850s and was able to read books by Liu [Fenglu], Chen [Shuoqi or Qiaocong, or both], Wei [Yuan], Shao [Yichen] and others.... I could not have done so had I been bom in the [tranquil] Kangxi era. (Kang 1978, 2: 815)

Kang clearly pointed to the time factor, or his existential condition, that decisively affected his turn to New Script Confucianism, in which he found solutions for the disorderly world of his own time. To put it differently, the objective surroundings inspired him to find viable an­ swers in New Script Confucianism. His intention to use the Confucian classics to serve practical purposes was beyond doubt. Nor is it a coin­ cidence that his turn to New Script Confucianism corresponded to his personal campaigns for reforms. To justify reform, he was fully aware that Confucian ideology clothed naked imperial power. Just as the im ­ perial rulers used the Confucian canons to legitimate their political power, so a scholar like him needed the same classics to engage in political discourse and to delineate the raison d ’etre for institutional improvement and change. B ut how did New Script C onfucianism and in particular the Gongyang doctrine serve Kang’s practical purposes so well that they won his full attention from 1888 onward? The answer lies mainly in the tradition of the “esoteric dicta and great dogmas” in the New Script Confucian canon, which allowed Kang to exercise philosophical herme­ neutics with regard to the texts, or to use these dicta and dogmas for

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critical exegeses. The Gongyang Commentary remarks, for instance, at the end of the Annals: Why did the Master (Confucius) write the Annals! No work is [anywhere] close to the Annals in [teaching us] how to manage a disorderly world and to get the world restored (bo luanshi fanzhu zheng 8 SLtit lx ftf IE)- [Confucius] made the Annals available to later sages who understand the Master’s dogmas and are willing to practice them. (Shisanjing zhijie 3, 2: 360).

This passage in the Gongyang Commentary must have especially im­ pressed Kang Youwei, who since childhood had regarded him self as a sage and was determined to see the tumultuous Qing dynasty restored. No greater meaning existed in the Annals, so far as Kang’s contempo­ rary needs were concerned, than the theory of the Three Ages (sanshi) as propounded by the Gongyang school. The Gongyang Commentary's con­ tention was that the author of the Annals divided the history of the state Lu into three epochs: the events of the first epoch, the distant past, he acquired through transmitted accounts (suo chuanwen); those of the second, the recent past, he heard from the contemporary accounts (suo wen); those of the third, he personally witnessed (suo jian ) (Shisanjing zhijie 3, 1: 16; Kang 1976,4:44,61, 218-19). This notion of a temporal tripartition had provided He Xiu with the framework to unfold the three ages in a succes­ sively staged historical schema as a central tenet of Gongyang Confucian­ ism. He Xiu identified the first age as the time of Decay and Disorder, the second age as that of Emerging Peace, and the third as that of Universal Peace, referring to the evolution from the chaotic primitive age to the ages of the emerging peace and eventually the Great Peace. He Xiu thus broad­ ened the meaning of the Three Ages Theory with which the Qing New Text scholars could work for historicization of this theory. Kang then considered the Three Ages Theory Confucius’ foremost principle. As he wrote in 1897: The Three Ages Theory is the first principle of Confucius, who illuminated it in the Annals... .The Age of Disorder is still culturally primitive; the Age of Emerg­ ing Peace signals some cultural attainments; and finally the Age of Great Peace is the world of the “Great Community” (datong ), in which culture will be fully grown and the universality of all cultures complete. To acquire Confucius’ learn­ ing, we must understand that his great dogmas mostly refer to the Minor Peace, while his esoteric dicta refer to the Great Peace. (Kang 1976, 4: 61)

These ideas concerning the Three Ages, together with the concepts of Minor Peace and Great Peace, which Kang derived from the Gongyang

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doctrine and the “Liyun” chapter in the Liji (The Book o f Rites), laid the foundation of Kang’s utopian philosophy of the Great Community. M odern scholars from Qian Mu and Kung-chuan Hsiao to Tang Zhijun have pointed out that K ang’s Datong Shu (Book o f the Great Community) could not have been w ritten or com pleted in 1884 or 1885 as Kang him self claim ed. The discovery of the original m anu­ script seems to have proven that the book was actually finished in 1901-1902 when Kang was an exile in India, as Liang Qichao inci­ dentally noted in his annotation to one of his m entor’s poems (Kang 1976, 20: 11). But the recent publication of K ang’s m anuscripts of the early form ative years, in particular those concerning the univer­ sal principle of m ankind, shows that K ang’s Datong philosophy was conceived very early on, even though the book was w ritten in a later date (Wang 1994:62). To be sure, as many scholars have already pointed out, the universalist ideas prominent in Kang’s Datong philosophy drew from num er­ ous different sources, including M ahayana Buddhism and Western Learning, both of which he acquired in the 1880s. Then, in the 1890s, he made acquaintance with the theory of biological evolution as an inspiration for the one-world principle through Liang Qichao and Yan Fu. But no one should forget the indigenous Gongyang Commentary and the New Script exegetical tradition that helped Kang envisage in­ stituting the “great universal system of rule” (da yitong). In sum, Kang contributed nothing original to Gongyang Confucian­ ism, and meticulous scholarly pursuit was not his style. Instead, he embraced the Gongyang school because he found that its exegetical tradition illuminated the great principles of “institutional change” (gaizhi) originated in the Annals useful in supporting the reformist cam­ paigns of his own time as well as in constructing a utopian future for all men.

Starting an Intellectual Revolution In 1891 Kang’s Inquiry into the Forged Classics was published. It quickly ran into several editions and, in Liang Qichao’s (1873-1929) words, hit the intellectual circle like a thunderbolt. This was so be­ cause in it Kang boldly proclaimed that all the Old Script Classics were forged by the Han scholar Liu X i n g ] B y manufacturing seal script to replace clerical script, Kang arged, Liu was instrumental in extinguishing the great principle of Confucianism and exterminating

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New Script learning. Consequently, Kang averred, the Confucian clas­ sics which had been reverently accepted by Imperial China for two thousand years were in effect spurious. And the scholars of the present time, though admiring the Confucian classics, missed the true mean­ ing of the sage’s teachings (Kang 1976,1: 124). Kang tried to prove his case by asserting that Liu had ample oppor­ tunity to forge the Old Script Classics, as he was fully in charge of book editing. The Zuo Commentary, the only Old Script Commentary of the Annals, did not appear until Liu started editing books. Accord­ ing to Kang, Liu obtained Zuo’s history, known as Guoyu (Words on the States), and transformed it into a commentary on the Annals. The Zuo Commentary hence became the “home base” (chaoxue |j | y \) of the Old Script canon. Sima Qian used Zuo’s history quite extensively while writing the Historical Records (Shiji), but he never regarded it as a Confucian commentary, nor did he treat it as a commentary as he did Gongyang and Guliang. So it was clear to Kang that Liu manufactured the Zuo Commentary (Kang 1976,1: 76, 105,122, 128-29, 174). Kang also charged that Liu had a motive to forge the Classics. For his personal interest, Liu used the forged classics in assisting Wang M ang to capture power. He used the spurious Zhouli (Rites o f Zhou) to support Wang’s usurpation and to justify institutional changes, forging the Zuo Commentary to rationalize Wang as “acting” emperor of the Xin (New) dynasty. Just as Wang usurped the Han, so Liu usurped Confucianism. For this reason, Kang believed the allegedly forged Old Script Confucianism should be regarded as mere “Xin Learning” (xinxue |ff H ). The Xin learning rather than the authentic Han learning eventu­ ally prevailed and dominated the Confucian landscape, Kang felt, be­ cause a number of great scholars in the Latter Han, in particular Jia Kui U , M a Rong Mi fife, Xu Shen iff, and Zheng Xuan |U$ fZ, added fuel to the flames set by Liu Xin (Kang 1976, 1:125, 131, 132, 135, 139). Thanks to his prestige as the imperial lecturer, Jia Kui gave the Old Script Classics the first advantage in the controversy over the New Script started by Liu Xin. Equal to Jia in importance was Ma Rong, who provided the Old Script classics with very impressive annotations. Finally, Zheng Xuan, M a’s disciple, completed the victory of the war against the New Script Classics by bringing forth a synthesis in favor of the Old Script. Zheng’s conquest of the Confucian landscape, Kang concluded, solidified in later generations the honored position of Liu Xin’s forged classics on the one hand and sealed the doom of Confucius’

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authentic teachings on the other. If Zheng glorified Liu’s forged classics, Kang added, the lexicographer Xu Shen authenticated Liu’s fake scripts for the Old Script Classics. Kang thus considered that both Zheng and Xu had rendered such outstanding service to Liu Xin that the forged classics overshadowed the genuine ones for two thousand years, during which pe­ riod the Song Neo-Confucian scholars used mostly the spurious classics as well (Kang 1976,1:3,149,155,158,161,163-67,175,179). To strengthen his case, Kang exercised quite a bit of “empirical re­ search” (kaozheng). He tried painstakingly to argue that the original Confucian classics, known as the Six Classics ( liujing),4 were never totally lost due to Qinshihuangdi’s burning of books and burying of scholars. Those books burned by the Qin edict were mostly privately owned, and only 460 Xianyang scholars, not all of whom were Confucians, were buried, and they were accused of spreading fallacies. Ap­ parently many Confucian books were spared from burning and quite a few Confucian scholars survived the burial. Kang further cited the fact that the Qin had established no less than seventy Erudites (boshi) for the Confucian classics to demonstrate that the teachings were trans­ mitted without interruption. Also, he named early Han dynasty Confu­ cian scholars, such as Fu Sheng Shen Gong ^ £ •, Yuan Gusheng Han Ying ij§t H , and Gao Tongsheng to indicate that they all survived well in the early Han, even though they had lived through the time of book-burning and scholar-killing. Moreover, as Kang reasoned, since Qinshihuangdi’s purpose was to fool the people by burning their books, he had no reason to bum all the books in order to fool himself. As a matter of fact, six years after the book-burning Liu Bang, the founder of the Han, captured Xianyang, the capital of the Qin, and his m inister Xiao He seized a large number of books from the government library. Here Kang was not really interested in defending Qinshihuangdi, as a recent writer insists (Zhu 1991: 38-39); he only suggested that neither the Confucian classics nor the Confucian schol­ ars forever disappeared due to the Qin brutality as commonly thought. Accordingly, Kang concluded that the Six Confucian Classics, instead of being extinguished by Qinshihuangdi, were muddled by Liu X in’s massive editing o f texts (Kang 1976,1:1-19,41). Since the books survived the Qin inferno, so far as Kang was con­ cerned, the claim of rediscovering the Old Script Classics in later times was purely fictitious. He cited the Shiji (Historical Records) to argue that such an important event as the discovery of a large quantity of ancient books was simply impossible for Sima Qian to completely ig­

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nore (Kang 1976, 1: 13-14, 22). The story of the book discovery was recorded in the biography of two Han princes in the Honshu (History of the Former Han Dynasty) by Ban Gu. Prince Xian UK, named Liu De who had a passion for books, had obtained many pre-Qin seal script books and established Erudites for such Old Script Classics as M ao’s Book o f Odes (Shijing) and the Zuo Commentary (Honshu 8: 2410). Prince Gong |j§, named Liu Yu §fl| ji£, who was fond of palace construction, tore down Confucius’ old residence for reconstruction, thus accidentally discovering the Old Script Classics inside the broken walls (Honshu 8: 2414). But Kang again questioned why Sima, who lived much later than the two princes, did not mention either the book discovery or the establishment of the Old Script Erudites, if the stories were true. This question in effect led Kang to conclude that Ban G u’s Honshu was tampered with by Liu Xin as well. And the Biography of Liu Xin in the Honshu, as Kang found out, read much like L iu’s own testimony (Kang 1976,1: 104-06,128). Kang also accused Liu of tampering with Sima Q ian’s Historical Records. W henever the term “old text” (guwen) appears in the Records, Kang believed it was inserted in the text by Liu. The Records, for in­ stance, reads: “I (Sima) have read the Old Script Annals,” referring to the Zuo Commentary, but Kang contended that since such an entry was found nowhere else in the Records, and not mentioned at all in the “Biography of Scholars” (Rulin zhuan M 'f f ), it had to be L iu’s in­ sertion (Kang 1976,1: 26). Moreover, Kang consistently held that the Zuo text, written in the style of historical narrative, could not be con­ sidered a Confucian commentary, as Sima well understood. To be sure, the Shier zhuhou nianbiao (Chronological Table of the Twelve Dukes) in the Records identifies Zuo Qiuming as the author of the Zuo Com­ mentary on the Annals. But this statement seemed to Kang m ost un­ likely for Sima Qian to make. If it were authentic, Kang argued, Sima would have surely included the Zuo Commentary in the Biography of the Scholars at the same rank as the Gongyang and Guliang Commen­ taries. Here Kang implied that Liu Xin again inserted the statement in the text. In regard to the question that might be raised concerning why Liu Xin— if he was as capable of forgery as Kang said— did not insert the Zuo Commentary as well into the “Biography of Scholars,” Kang replied with his characteristic arbitrariness that, had Liu inserted it into the much-read “Biography,” his forgery would have been exposed; in­ stead, he inserted it in the relatively obscure text of the “Chronological Table” in order to make it look authentic (Kang 1976, 1:30-31,71).

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No one can deny that the Inquiry into the Forged Classics displays considerable learning, especially in raising doubts by making extensive comparisons of different texts and by diligent textual criticism (cf. Kang 1976,1: 181-331). But its arbitrary arguments and leaps to conclusions at many crucial points are as salient as they are undeniable. Even his own disciple Liang Qichao would not conceal the questionable conclusions of his mentor (Liang 1985: 64). Yet intellectual arrogance coupled with strong self-confidence inclined Kang to ignore criticisms and to be most reluctant to engage himself in scholarly discourse or polemics with other scholars. His extensive debate with Zhu Yixin over the Inquiry into the Forged Classics was, indeed, a rare exception. Once dean of the prestigious GuangyaJlf iff College in Guangzhou, Zhu Yixin was a man of letters whom Kang held in respect. They be­ came close friends no later than 1890, in time for Zhu to read at least parts of Kang’s manuscript before it went into press in 1891. As an honest scholar and older than Kang by more than a decade, Zhu was candid in his disapproval. Though he recognized Kang’s intent of pre­ senting an independent view of the Confucian classics, Zhu could hardly go along with the view that all the Old Script Classics were spurious. Nor could he accept Kang’s judgm ent that Liu Xin inserted all the Old Script evidence in Sim a’s Records. If this were so, he questioned, why should Liu have failed to insert the crucial evidence of book discovery in the “Biography of the Two Han Princes”? This led him to conclude that Kang was arbitrary: “Citing the same book, [Kang] accepted or rejected arguments solely on the basis of whether or not they fit his own interpretation.” Taking the rejection of the Zuo Commentary as a Confucian commentary, for instance, this was nothing new, as scholars as early as the Han had already made this point, but only Kang had gone so far as to claim that the Zuo Commentary was fictitious or manu­ factured by Liu out of Zuo’s Guoyu. Many scholars prior to Kang ques­ tioned the authenticity of particular Confucian classics, but never before had anyone made such a provocative judgm ent of the spuriousness of the classics. Zhu henceforth advised Kang from an academic point of view that a scholar “should never overstate his arguments, and should be extremely cautious in methodology” (Zhu 1978, 2: 798, 802). Zhu was also worried about the socio-political implications of Kang’s bold vision and sweeping revisionism. There was always a danger that the Confucian Classics might have perished in the midst of anti-Con­ fucianism, as Zhu put it, even though Qinshihuangdi had not burned all the scriptures, as Kang said. For Zhu, Kang’s attacks on the Old Script

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Classics would set off a chain reaction. “All of a sudden you say the two-thousand-year-old Old Script Classics are unbelievable,” as Zhu wrote Kang in a correspondence, adding, “ who knows that the New Script Classics will be believable some centuries later?” Here Zhu showed a genuine fear of straying beyond skepticism into the destruc­ tion of all Confucian Classics, whether Old or New. Zhu thus wished that Kang not open the floodgate of skepticism, for invalidation and mistrust of the valuable Classics would inevitably lead to discrediting Confucius himself. Intellectually a staunch conservative, Zhu insisted that the Old Script Classics, regardless of how spurious Kang might think them, were still worth keeping (Zhu 1978, 2: 803-05). In response to Zhu’s highly critical comments, Kang steered clear of the Qian [long] Jia [qing] style studies of making small arguments and textual criticisms to prove or disprove any particular insignificant point. His interest, in other words, went beyond the simple practice of the exegesis of texts. He meant that he had in mind the high purpose of changing the course of the country, for which he emphasized the im­ portance of making distinctions between the New Script and Old Script Classics and of being aware of the catastrophic effects of the forged Classics on the country and people (Kang 1978, 2: 806-08). Here was made manifest the fundamental difference between Kang and Zhu. The latter defended the imperial system and feared its breakdown, whereas the form er was discontented with it and willing to start an intellectual revolution to renovate it. By attributing China’s stagnation to the tim e-honored Old Script Confucianism forged by Liu Xin, Kang found it necessary to revive Confucius’ true spirit by means of promoting Gongyang Confucian­ ism. Clearly in line with Liu Fenglu, Kang envisaged the Spring and Autumn period as the beginning of a new temporal historical develop­ ment breaking off from the cyclical alternation o f antiquity. In this view Confucius was a “latter king” (houwang) who laid down the guide­ lines for posterity to implement, in contrast to Liu X in’s attempt to make the Duke of Zhou the institutional maker by forging the Rites of Zhou. This forgery had obscured Confucius’ vision and resulted in a static China for more than two thousand years. This is precisely why Kang was so determined to expose Liu’s forgery and reopen the real Confucius’ path all over again (Kang 1 9 7 6 ,1 :4 0 ,4 4 ,6 5 ; 4:186; cf. Ng 1994: 28). The meaning of Kang’s attacks on Liu was not immediately under­ stood by Zhu, who in a sarcastic fashion complained of Kang’s trump­

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ing up unwarranted charges against a great scholar and giving too much importance to Liu. Zhu eventually became aware of Kang’s reformist intent, but still dismissed it as a vicious attempt at “covering up Jesus in the dress of Confucius” (yangzun Kongzi yingzhu Yesu I ? ) and “using the barbarians to transform C hina” (yongyi bianxia). Kang rejected the charges but admitted to Zhu that he was impressed by m odem Western civilization while visiting Hong Kong and henceforth had been started reading W estern books. He reminded Zhu that “the present-day China is no longer a great empire surrounded by backward barbarians but a large nation among sixty-plus other na­ tions co-existing on the earth.” Precisely because China refused to change her long wom-out system, she fell victim to the West, lost huge chunks of territories, and suffered the destruction o f the magnificent Yuan M ing Yuan imperial garden at the hands of the invading foreign forces. “How can we resist,” he asked Zhu, “when they come to threaten us with gunboats?” He therefore chided Zhu and his ilk for disregard­ ing the rapidly changing world, holding up unrealistic teachings, and passively awaiting the destruction of their own country. To Zhu and others who approved of neither the reinterpretation of Confucianism nor emulation of the West, Kang could not help complaining: “you understand neither me nor the Westerners nor the greatness of Confucius ’ great teachings (Kang 1978, 2: 816, 817, 818, 822). The exchange between Zhu and Kang seems to have confirmed that the latter, indeed, tried to smuggle Western ideas into China by recast­ ing Confucius. In this regard, Joseph Levenson, who was unaware of the debate, made an interesting point a long time ago: All Chinese traditionalists, whatever their opinions on Westernization, had to agree that Confucius was the sage of Chinese culture, and Confucianism its very es­ sence. But if the table could be turned on the self-deceptive, ostensibly Confucian despisers of the West, and contemporary Chinese culture be described as un-Confucian, then innovations in a wholesale measure, by no means simply in the mate­ rial sphere, might not discredit the Chinese essence but make for its rediscovery. (Levenson 1968,1: 81)

This remark seems to have illuminated the purpose of Kang’s herme­ neutic exercise. But the traditionalists had always been worried about the “transformation of China by the barbarians.” For them the West­ ernization of Confucius was even more subversive than the emulation of the West. W hat was more, in describing the contemporary Chinese culture, which had developed under the influence of Confucianism for two thousand years as something inauthentic, Kang was unavoidably

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discrediting Confucius and his teachings by opening a Pandora’s box. As Zhu Yixin pointed out, Kang in effect made Liu Xin the sage of China, if the revered Confucian classics were indeed L iu’s creation. Accordingly, the “rediscovery” of the authentic Confucian canon as Kang claimed did not really make room for “innovations in a whole­ sale measure.” On the contrary, given the fact that many of the tradi­ tionalists requested Kang’s execution in line with the precedent of Confucius’ execution of Shao Zhengmao ^ T F flP, Kang clearly failed in his purpose. In fairness, Kang did not really want to sacrifice Confucius for Jesus Christ as the traditionalists like Zhu worried, because he truly believed that the Bible was inferior to the Buddhist scriptures by nature and in no way able to compete with the superb Six Classics. He also pointed out that the Christian religion in the West was something very different from its excellent sciences, technology, and political institutions, so that neither “Western government” (xizheng) nor “Western technol­ ogy” (xiyi) when adopted in China would harm Confucianism (Kang 1978,2: 820). Kang’s eventual attempt to establish Confucianism as a religion ostensibly had in mind that Confucianism, instead of being replaced by Christianity, could play its own positive spiritual role in m odem China. Kang’s real intention was now revealed. His reinterpre­ tation of Confucianism carried a strong desire of strengthening his own country by implementing an institutional reform by selectively bor­ rowing from the West. He said he had discovered in Confucianism “ex­ traordinary [different] meaning” (feichang yiyi however, it is hard to determine how much his own meaning was mixed with Confucius’ “extraordinary meaning.” That Kang injected his own ideas into his Confucian exegeses, from the viewpoint of creative hermeneu­ tics, can be considered a “unique insight and judgm ent” in order to ferret out “the deep structure” from the surface of the text (Fu 1990: 33). In this light Kang cannot be regarded as a simple inheritor of Gongyang Confucianism but a creative developer who used his illumi­ native power to blow the wind of the reinterpreted Confucianism in the sails of contemporary reforms. Whether Kang’s hermeneutical creativity revived Confucianism or hastened its destruction is a different ques­ tion. But in retrospect destruction was the result. His mind was set on reform, but unknowingly he started an intellectual revolution that would in the long run shake the very foundation of Confucian China. To put it differently, Kang’s reinterpretation of Confucianism presupposed re­ form, but the meaning of his hermeneutic exercise was not decided by

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his original intentions. In fact, the outcome of philosophical herme­ neutics was quite different from what Kang intended to do. Neverthe­ less, what immediately concerned Kang was the urgent needs of the time in which he lived. His solution was to make Confucius a reformer, to which we shall now turn.

Creating a Reform Ideology Kang Youwei was first inspired to reform by China’s defeat in the Sino-French War (1884-1885) over Annam (Vietnam). Not until 1888, however, did he put his reformism into action by going to Beijing to deliver his first reform memorial to the Qing Emperor. He was not successful. He returned home in 1889 to reconsider Confucianism and arrived at a radical new interpretation. It is unquestionable that the crisis of the time inspired Kang with the importance of change, per­ haps dramatic change. He interpreted “change” (yingbian) to mean imperative action to meet urgent needs or to exterminate a chronic evil so critical that seeking sanction or authorization was not really neces­ sary, whereas “continuity” (changyi ^ U ) , the other major theme in the Annals, should mean “never to act presumptuously” (Kang 1976, 4: 179-180). All in all, he looked forward to changing a China which was in deep trouble. His book on the forged classics, published in 1891, as we have dis­ cussed above, set off an intellectual revolution with the clear intention of dethroning the Old Script imperial Confucianism which had dom i­ nated China for no less than two thousand years. He next spent five years completing On Confucius as a Reformer in an attempt to en­ throne a reformist Confucianism based on the New Text Classics. As a result, the New Script became the text of Confucius-in-action directed by Kang Youwei. The book On Confucius as a Reformer was Kang’s attempt to em ­ broil Confucius in reformism; however, we need to point out that gaizhi in a strict sense means “institutional change.” In this work of Confucian exegesis Kang never really intended to interpret Confucius as a “progressive, not a conservative, in his own time,” as Levenson said (1968: 81). W hat Kang really tried to establish was that Confucius was the founder of a great teaching, not a transmitter of historical tradition, in his own time. For this he insisted that there were no reliable written accounts prior to the Six Classics and no detailed accounts of history until after the founding of the Chinese empire under the Qin in 221

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Accordingly, he contended, the so-called history of the three an­ cient dynasties, namely, Xia, Shang, and Zhou, not to mention the leg­ endary leaders Huangdi, Yao, and Shun, had nothing reliable to trace. This remote past of China, as Kang put it, was thus as unbelievable as the Biblical story of Adam and Eve or as the mythical founding of Imperial Japan. “Since there is no evidence,” he concluded, “we can­ not take them [to be history]” (Kang 1976, 2:6-7; cf. 3-13). Kang rejected the possibility of factual knowledge in China’s re­ mote past so as to leave room to argue that the three ancient dynasties, as well as their splendid institutions and principles, were not genuine history but Confucius’ intellectual creation. And Confucius was not alone in creating a school of thought. So far as Kang understood, all primal thinkers, such as the pre-Qin philosophers Laozi and M ozi, the Brahman priests in India, and the Greek philosopher Socrates, all for­ mulated their own doctrines and proposed their own reforms in order to make an impact on the world. Here Kang enlisted many peers of C onfucius in an attem pt to show th at the creation o f a school (chuangjiao) by a philosophical or religious leader was in effect very common. Needless to say, given his sagacity Confucius deserved more than others to provide instruction and guidance to men (Kang 1976, 2:17, 58, cf. 17-55; 3:404). Confucius, like his peers, proposed reform in the name of the ancient (tuogu gaizhi). This was so, to Kang, because it was common for men to glorify and value the past at the expense of the present, or to use Peter Gay’s term, people “turned to the distant past to conquer the recent past” (Gay 1966:269). No founder of an intellectual system could really preach his doctrine without citing the authority of the ancients. Virtually all preQin thinkers, for example, spoke in the names of the sage kings in the remote past. The fact that Confucius and Mozi cited the same King Yao and King Shun in greatly different contexts made the Legalist Han Fei unable to tell who told the true story of the two sage kings. For Kang, however, the difference suggested precisely that neither Confucius nor Mozi was telling historical truth; on the contrary, they each tried to es­ tablish their own vastly different doctrines. This seemed to Kang the common practice of all pre-Qin thinkers, who all created their own an­ cient history for the sake of formulating their respective doctrines (Kang 1976,2: 81-83,118,119). Kang’s interpretation ostensibly rendered an­ cient history helplessly in the service of philosophy. And yet, according to Kang, Confucius’ creativity was obscured by the forger Liu Xin, who had since made Duke of Zhou the de facto b .c .e .

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founder of Confucianism. Insisting that Confucius him self created Confucianism, Kang pointed out that the “Confucian Ways” (Ruxing) in the chapter of the Liji, which ways Confucius designated for the Confucians, worked much like commandments for the Buddhists and the Christians. Also, he quoted Xunzi to argue that the teaching that Confucius had created, like that of Christianity and Islam, was not just for any particular nation but for all men (Kang 1976, 2:264-65, 269, 275). Kang cited other evidence of Confucius’ creativity in the “Confu­ cian robe” ( rufu), which he compared to the Buddhist kasaya; both symbolized the dignity of their respective teaching. That a Confucian wearing the robe and hat failed to match his words and deeds was no different from when a monk in his elegant kasaya violated a command­ ment. Here was, in the opinion of Kang, the difference between the “Gentle Confucian” (junzi ru) and the “Mean Confucian” (xiaoren ru); the criteria solely rested on whether the behavior was in line with the appearance. Furtherm ore, Kang used M ozi’s testim ony to prove Confucius’ creativity. As an intellectual rival, M ozi in particular vi­ ciously attacked the institutions of “mourning apparel” (sangfu) and “three year m ourning” (sannian sang) in a sense to prove that they were not the institutions of the ancients, because he could not possibly assault the ancients whom he so revered. He attacked these institutions precisely because he knew they were created by his arch rival, Confucius. In sum, citing Mozi, Kang really tried to indicate that any sage-founder, whether Confucius or Sakayamuni, in setting up a sys­ tem found it necessary to nourish his followers by starting with their looks (this is why costume was so important), and that Confucius was the creator o f his own institutions rather than the transmitter of the ancients (Kang 1976, 2: 283-84,289, 290, 291, 306, 314; 3: 402,404, 405,455-56, 613; cf. 3:505-50, 576-89, 605-11,613, 616). As a creator of institutions, Confucius, in Kang’s opinion, was a special kind of man. Drawing on the concept of “the uncrowned king” ( suwang) from Gongyang Confucianism, Kang insisted that Confucius, living at a tim e when the Zhou system was waning, was a savior or­ dained by Heaven to lay down infallible laws and valid institutions for hundreds of later generations. The Annals was written by the sage spe­ cifically for reform, and reform was Confucius’ “hidden ambition” (yinzhi) (Kang 1976,3:436; 4: 2 0 3 ,2 06,217,576,577). The sage thus deserved to be addressed as a king. In fact, claimed Kang, Confucius had been taken as a king during the eight hundred years from the

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Warring States period (475-221 B.c.E.) to the Latter Han (ca. 200 C.E.). This tradition was purposefully interrupted by Liu Xin, who used the Duke of Zhou to overshadow Confucius, and henceforth the sage be­ came a mere great man of letters rather than the prescient lawgiver and institution-creator that he was. The sage’s “charismatic basis,” to use Max W eber’s term, was thus no longer able to sustain the legitimate “spiritual authority” (shitong fjijj $£) supposedly parallel to the “impe­ rial authority” (juntong $fc). This resulted in the monopoly of the imperial authority during the past two thousand years and its dire con­ sequences, including the decline of Confucianism as well as the de­ generation of the people. In this regard, it was clear to Kang that the restoration of Confucius’ status as a king was essential to re-establish­ ing the lost spiritual authority (Kang 1976, 3:340, 312-13). Kang went on at length to indicate that the various kingly titles in the ancient texts, such as “New King” (xinwang), “Refined King” (yvenwang), “Sage King” (shengwang), “Former King” (xianwang ), and “Latter King” (houwang), all referred to Confucius. As a king he was in the position of sovereign writing the Annals to show his kingship or a kingly way of running the world, rather than recording a his­ tory as the Zuo Commentary asserted. And as the “uncrowned king” he legitimately succeeded the Zhou and proposed institutional reforms at the dawn of the new era (Kang 1976,2: 322-31,337,338; 4:181,186). In Kang’s view, the Han dynasty Confucian scholar Dong Zhongshu best understood the Confucian Way through the Gongyang Commen­ tary of the Annals, acquired much of the essence of the Six Classics, and illuminated the rightful role of Confucius as the founder of his own teaching, the inventor of new institutions, and the arbiter of intel­ lectual and moral values. Dong was the man who not only helped Em­ peror Wu of the Han make Confucianism the universal state teaching but also established Confucius’ place as the new king to succeed the fallen Zhou, and no one else had synthesized so much highly signifi­ cant “oral tradition” (koushuo P fft) from the followers of the seventy known disciples of Confucius or said so much about Confucius as an institutional creator. The preservation of valuable oral tradition in Gongyang Confucianism had prevented the subtle words from dying with Confucius, which contribution Kang attributed to Dong .5Without knowing the great meanings contained in the Annals, Wang Anshi of Song China referred to the 18,000-word text of the Annals as “worth­ less paper” (duanlan chaobao 13 $H). If Confucian scholars all held the attitude of Wang, Kang warned, Confucianism was bound to

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be extinguished. To recover the sage’s great meanings thus required reading Dong. Kang compared Dong’s works to the “golden key” to unlock the truth in Confucianism, and considered Dong the captain of an ocean-going vessel. In this sense Dong was the foremost Confucian scholar, with whom even M encius and Xunzi could not compare. For this reason Kang wrote a special monograph to expound how Dong exploited the great meanings which resided in the Annals. Without Dong, Kang insisted, Confucius’ “great message” of reform might have been forever lost (Kang 1976, 4: 2, 3, 4, 10, 13, 57, 60, 74, 170, 186, 200, 201, 232, 233, 318, 319, 333, 352, 357). Echoing Dong’s assertion that a new king was destined to propose reform for a new era, Kang went on to suggest that Confucius had been in the position to designate a whole set of reforms involving social customs, land tenure, judicial system, and codes of personal behavior at the beginning of the new era following the Zhou. These ideas of reforms finding their expression in the Six Classics had to have been written by Confucius himself. Kang in effect boldly declared that the Six Classics were the “Bible of Confucianism.” Kang actually went to considerable length to argue that not just the Annals but also the other five Classics, namely, the Book o f Odes (Shi) , the Book of Documents (Shu), the Book o f Rites (Li), the Book o f Changes (Yi), and the Book of Music (Yue) were all written by Confucius himself (Kang 1976,4:19293, 293, 391, 392; 3:94-430). Surely aware of his bold conclusion on the authorship of the Six Classics or Scriptures, Kang reminded us that the Confucian “Scrip­ tures” (jing), comparable to Buddhist sutras, had a sacred and divine character of their own. So only the works authored by the sage Confucius him self were entitled to be called “Scriptures.” Any other Confucian work not by Confucius him self could only be called a “commentary” (zhuan). Accordingly, the continuous canonization of Confucian Scrip­ tures from six, to nine, to thirteen, and even to fourteen, from Tang to M ing China, was utterly inappropriate. In other words, Kang contended that Confucius authored six scriptures, no less and no more, and no one should add anything to the sacred scriptures (Kang 1976,4: 393). The establishment of the authorship of the Six Scriptures was im­ portant to Kang to ascertain that these sacred books conveyed Confucius’ “great message” (dadao) rather than the deeds and words of the famed ancient kings. Like other founders of thought systems, Confucius used the ancient kings in support of his own arguments. Confucius as a com­ moner perhaps needed even greater authority of the ancients to but-

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tress his doctrine. When Confucius praised the beautiful system of de­ mocracy and great peace during the time of King Yao and King Shun in the Scriptures, he was not presenting or evaluating ancient history but showing the ultimate future goal of his reform. Likewise, the good government of King Wen of the Zhou mentioned in the Scriptures was not political history but the example o f Confucius’ ideal of benevolent monarchism which the sage wanted to implement prior to the arrival of the final Age of Great Peace. In short, K ang’s exegesis emphasized that Confucius created his own system in the name of the ancients (Kang 1976, 3: 394, 429, 432,451,460, 462). Kang made it quite clear that Confucius was good at using the an­ cients. It is clear to us that Kang used Confucius and Dong Zhongshu, as well. By presenting Confucius as the founder of a new system and Dong— as the arch advocate of Confucius— as a maker of new institu­ tions, Kang actually proposed his own reform in the name of Gongyang Confucianism, parallel to Confucius’ proposal of reform in the name of the ancients. He specifically pointed out that Confucius as a reformer had only set out an outline for his disciples or followers to fill in with details. This means that later generations of Confucian scholars all had the prerogative to offer supplements to the teachings in order to weed through the old to bring forth the new. Implicitly, as a Confucian him­ self, Kang was certainly entitled to provide his own flesh and blood to the bones of Gongyang Confucianism. In fact, he did not hesitate to infuse such modem ideas as social Darwinism and sexual equality from the West into his interpretation of Confucianism (Kang 1976,4:77-78; 3: 16, 371). More importantly, under m odem influences he external­ ized some relevant inner forms in Gongyang Confucianism, such as the “Three Generation Theory,” to propose a scheme of political re­ form that moved from authoritarian monarchy to constitutional mon­ archy and eventually to democracy. This scheme of evolutionary political change laid the intellectual foundation of his reformism on the eve of the Reforms of 1898.

Effects of Kang’s Hermeneutics It was an ingenious design on the part of Kang Youwei to propose reform by converting Confucius into a reformer, because Confucian­ ism sanctioned by the imperial state had been the dominating ideology in China, regardless of its ups and downs, for over two thousand years. Down to Kang’s own time Confucianism remained the unshakable in­

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tellectual-moral norm for Chinese state and society. Should Confu­ cianism become the reformist ideology, the Chinese people would be naturally convinced to reform. Kang said repeatedly that his political campaigns for reform primarily aimed at talking the Qing emperor into reform because only His M ajesty’s awesome power could bring the empire to go his way (Wong 1992: 516). In this regard, he must also have thought that only Confucius’ mighty influence could change the Chinese mind in favor o f reform. But the gap between Kang’s idealism and China’s reality was huge. On the political side, even though Kang had eventually gained the Guangxu Em peror’s ear, the powerful Empress Dowager Cixi cast a long shadow over the throne. The em peror’s determination to pursue reform at Kang’s urging in effect strained the throne’s relationship with the dowager to the point that it did more harm than good to the process of reform. On the ideological side, the conversion of Confucius into a reformer simply generated too much controversy to make anything easier for Kang, a far cry from a successful creation of reformist ideol­ ogy in the name of Confucius. The Inquiry into the Forged Classics quickly ran to five editions in Shanghai and in many provinces, presumably because of the highly pro­ vocative nature of the book. Before long, however, Kang was charged with slandering Liu Xin, deceiving the country and the people, and re­ belling against orthodoxy. As a result, in 1894, the imperial court re­ quested the Governor-general of Liang Guang, Li Hanzhang jjl, Hongzhang’s brother, to investigate the matter. The Governor-general asked the Classicist Li Ziran ^ M to examine the book. Li, while pointing out some flaws, dismissed the serious charge of “departing from the scriptures and rebelling against orthodoxy” ilijing partdao), which was punishable by death. Based on the scholar Li’s report Governorgeneral Li, a cautious official, dismissed the case by requesting Kang to ban the book himself. Meanwhile, the imperial court, troubled by the ongoing Sino-Japanese War, quickly forgot the matter (Su 1970: 69-72; M a 1988: 177-81). Kang was off the hook due largely to luck. The fate of On Confucius as a Reformer was not much better. It was published in Shanghai on the eve of the inauguration of the 1898 Re­ form. But instead of becoming the prolegomenon for this unprecedented event, it became a center of bitter controversy. To be sure, the conser­ vatives reacted so strongly that they accused Kang of being the “pest” of the sage and committing dangerous sophistry. Their requests to pros­ ecute Kang were put off only because such m ajor figures as Li

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Hongzhang and Weng Tonghe were willing to intercede for him (Kang 1976,1, “Appendix” : 4). But the moderates, and even some reformers, were troubled by Kang’s interpretation of Confucianism. Weng Tonghe, the prestigious Imperial Tutor who allegedly recommended Kang to the emperor, was shocked while reading the Inquiry into the Forged Classics by Kang’s boldness (Weng 1925, 34: 43). Wen Tingshi the reform-minded court official whom the Guangxu Em peror trusted, dismissed the advocates of the Gongyang doctrine as having neither learning nor skill, like those of the baseless Song Learning prominent in the early Qing period (Wen 1979,6: 10). Chen Baozhen |Sjt H;, the reform-minded governor of Hunan, recommended the government ban the book. Governor-general Zhang Zhidong, the re­ form practitioner in central China, offered that he would render help to Kang should Kang be willing to abandon his arbitrary judgments on the Old Script Classics. Kang, however, arrogantly rebutted Zhang, saying that his views on the Confucian Classics were far more precious than the Viceroy’s assistance.6 Thus was a powerful potential ally for reform alienated (cf. Wang 1983: 111-13). Kang’s bold hermeneutic exercise was no doubt prejudiced, and it was conditioned by the priority he gave to reform. But the problem was that it became a liability rather than an asset during the short-lived reform movement in 1898. It provided the opponents of reform the ground either to divert or undermine reform. Several high-ranking of­ ficials attacked Kang’s rebellious character contained in the two books and thus doubted Kang’s sincerity regarding reform. As they told the court, they were not in opposition to reform. They opposed, in other words, Kang’s vicious intention of “discrediting Confucius and despis­ ing rules” (feisheng wufa) (Su 1970: 74, 82-83, 90). This was a very serious charge, and it put Kang and his reform on the defensive. Kang was opposed in the end not because he wanted “reform” (bianfa) but because he intended to create “disorder” ( luanfa). As a m atter of fact, the conservatives, with the support of the dowager, abruptly ended the reform exactly on the ground of luanfa rather than bianfa. Hence it is clear that Kang’s provocative hermeneutics produced a stiffening of conservative resolve during the reform movement. Moreover, the theoretical foundation Kang had laid before the inau­ guration of the reform movement was not so relevant as he first thought. Evidently, he employed the evolutionary scheme derived from the “Three Generation Theory” in the Gongyang doctrine to justify the change of the existing autocracy in favor of a constitutional monarchy.

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To follow this line, the convening of a parliament was indispensable for the current phase of political reform. Although Kang and his fol­ lowers were eager to convene a parliam ent at the outset of the 1898 Reform, some of the most knowledgeable reformers at the time, such as Yan Fu, He Q if6 JH (Ho Kai), and Hu Liyuan |j§ ie , vehemently opposed it publicly, not because they disliked parliaments but because in their opinion China was not yet ready for such an advanced political institution (cf. Wang 1983: 114-20). And before long Kang him self changed his mind about parliament, though for a different reason. This was, however, not due to K ang’s political opportunism as some recent scholars have suggested, but his consideration of political reality. No sooner had reform gotten underway in the summer of 1898 than Kang fully realized that success depended upon the power of the throne. Yet the throne was weak rather than strong under the shadow of the power­ ful dowager. Once he realized that the convening of a parliament could further obstruct the em peror’s power, Kang instead advocated “impe­ rial power” (junquan) during the reform (cf. Wong 1992: 519, 521). This rendered neither the Inquiry into the Forged Classics nor On Confucius as a Reformer very useful for the reform, and yet both sup­ plied powerful ammunition for political foes to attack the reform. Hence, so far as the 1898 Reform was concerned, Kang’s tremendous effort of recasting Confucius appeared counterproductive. In a broader perspective, however, and interestingly, Kang’s reinter­ pretation of Confucianism, to his own surprise, helped revolution more than it did reform. Joseph Levenson once observed: The chin-wen (New Text) school, it is true, in attacking the accepted canon, was culturally subversive, opening the way for cultural drift; when the Classics could be doubted, anything could be doubted. (Levenson 1968, 1: 89)

This was exactly what the conservative critics of Kang had feared. Liang Qichao also admitted that his m entor’s provocative view of Confucian­ ism in the end casts doubt on the entire classical tradition. Even though Kang had no intention of being a “hero of freedom of thought,” to use Levenson’s term, he was helplessly instrumental in emancipating Chi­ nese thought from tradition. He wanted to be a rediscoverer of Confucian truth, but the establishment of a new Confucianism was much undermined by his earlier efforts of discrediting the classical tradition. His ambition to transform Confucianism into a full-fledged religion also failed miserably. By drawing on the apocryphal tradition (chanwei) in Gongyang Confucianism to apotheosize Confucius, he alienated not

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only the traditionalists who bitterly resented the Christianization of Confucianism but also the modems who vigorously campaigned for secularization (cf. Wang 1988:74-75). The divinization of Confucian­ ism or the assigning to Confucius of a messianic role in effect further damaged the sage’s m odem credibility and doomed Confucianism in twentieth century China. Moreover, if we follow Ricoeur in regarding hermeneutics as the “demystification of a meaning presented to the interpretation in the form of a disguise” (Ricoeur 1981: 6), then on the contrary Kang knowingly or unknowingly tended to mystify Confu­ cianism. Clearly, Kang had no control of the direction of change once he started on this course. In his later years Kang tried to fight radicalism and defend Confu­ cianism, but to no avail. He was hence generally denounced by younger generations of Chinese intellectuals as incorrigibly obstinate. Never­ theless, many of the May Fourth intelligentsia and academics still ac­ knowledged their indebtedness to him. “Since I read the first part of (Kang’s) On Confucius as a R e fo r m e r as the celebrated iconoclastic historian Gu Jiegang reminisced, “I spent five or six years to reach my clear consciousness and plan to overthrow the ancient history (of China)” (Gu 1989: 83). It seems beyond doubt that Kang’s hermeneu­ tical study o f the Confucian classics with a strong purpose of reform in mind ended up helping to open the floodgate of anti-Confucian radi­ calism in m odem China.

Notes 1.

2.

3. 4.

“As a text,” Paul Ricoeur writes, “history must not just be understood, but also interpreted. Between us and our predecessors, and even, for a large part, between our contemporaries and ourselves, understanding is mediated by something like a text” (Ricoeur 1976: 691. See also Ricoeur 1971: 529-62). In his own chronological biography, Kang incidentally mentioned that “I first began writing it (.Inquiry into the Forged Classics) in bingxu W (1886) after a discussion with Mr. Chen Shurong on the revision of the General Inquiry o f the Five Rites (Wuli tongkao)” (Lo ed. 1967: 55). If this statement is truthful, then Kang began this work probably without knowing Liao Ping’s view. Moreover, he acknowledged Chen rather than Liao. We may also note that Liao himself admitted that he had no political interest whatsoever in studying Confucianism (Liao 1969: 1). Hereafter the Chunqiu will be referred to as the Annals. Kang persistently referred to the “Six Classics” because he believed that the sage wrote them. Obviously, only five of the six survived, so that we generally say “Five Classics” (Wujing). The so-called the “Thirteen Classics” (Shisanjing) arose as a result of the canonization of additional Confucian works during imperial China.

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5.

The stature of Dong Zhongshu rose with the re-emergence of New Script Confu­ cianism in eighteenth-century Qing China (Zhu 1989; 392). Prior to Kang, the New Script Scholar Wei Yuan had already praised Dong highly in his preface to Dongshi Chunqiu fawei (Expounding Dong’s interpretation of the Annals) (Wei 1976, 1: 135). 6. Kang recollected his encounter with Zhang Zhidong quite vividly: “He (Zhang) appeared to be very much interested. We met every day, and each time our con­ versation lasted till late at night. He would not, however, subscribe to the view that Confucius was an advocate of reform. He tried to persuade me to refrain from preaching this view; if I did, he would give me his support. He also sent (his private secretary) Liang Ting-fen (Liang Dingfen) to see me about this. I said to Liang, “The institutional reforms of Confucius are a great truth. How can I change it merely for the support of a governor-general of Kiangnan and Kiangsi?” (Lo, ed. 1967: 74). Interestingly, here Kang seems willing to sacrifice politics for scholarship.

References Elman, Benjamin A. Classicism, Politics, and Kinship: The Ch’ang-chou School of New Text Confucianism in Late Imperial China. Berkeley: University of Califor­ nia Press, 1990. Fu Weixun Cong chuangzao de quanshi dao dachengfoxue jglj m, (ft S SI (From creative hermeneutics to Mahayana Buddhism). Taibei: Dongdatushu gongsi, 1980. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Philosophical Hermeneutics. Trans, and ed. David E. Linge. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976. Gay, Peter. The Enlightenment: an Interpretation, vol. 1. The Rise o f Modem Pagan­ ism. New York: Norton, 1966. Gu Jiegang. Zouzai lishi de lushang—Gu Jiegang zishu @ (Walking on the road of history: reminiscences of Gu Jiegang). Taibei: Yuanliu chuban shiye gongsi, 1989. Hsiao, Kung-chuan. “K’ang Yu-wei and Confucianism.” Monumenta Serica, vol. XVIII (1959): 96-212. ---------. A Modem China and New World: K ’ang Yu-wei, Reformer and Utopian, 1854-1927. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1975. Kang Youwei. Kang Nanhai xiansheng yizhu huikan (Col­ lected works of the late Kang Youwei). Comp. Jiang Guilin. Taibei: Hongye shuju, 22 vols., 1976. ---------. Wanmu caotang yigao waibian H 7^ J p E 1 g [ jjjjjjj (Supplements to the essays of the ten-thousand thatched hall). Comp. Jiang Guilin. Vol. 2. Taibei: Cheng wen chubanshe, 1978. Levenson, Joseph R. Confucian China and Its Modem Fate: A Trilogy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968. Liang Qichao. Liang Qichao lun Qingxueshi liangzhong (Liang Qichao on intellectual history of the Qing dynasty: two studies). Comp. Zhu Weizheng. Shanghai: Fudan daxue chubanshe, 1985. Liao Ping. Guxue kao ] ( A study of ancient learning). Taibei: Kaiming shudian, 1969. Lo, Jung-pang, ed. K ’ang Yu-wei: A Biography and a Symposium. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1967.

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Ma Honglin J§ Kang Youwei dazhuan | f W M ^ f# (The great biography of Kang Youwei). Shenyang: Liaoning renmin chubanshe, 1988. Ng, On-cho. “Mid-Ch’ing New Text (Chin-wen) Classical Learning and Its Han Prov­ enance: the Dynamics of a Tradition of Idea.” East Asian History, no. 8 (Decem­ ber, 1994): 1-32. _ Qian Mu Zhongguo jin sanbainian xueshushi jfe) (A history of Chinese scholarship in the past three hundred years). 2 vols. Taibei: Shangwu yinshu guan, 1957. Ricoeur, Paul. “The Model of the Text: Meaningful Action Considered as a Text.” Social Research, vol. XXXVIII (1971): 529-62. ---------. “History and Hermeneutics.” The Journal o f Philosophy, vol. LXXIII, no. 9 (November, 1976): 683-95. ---------. Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences. Trans, and ed. John B. Thompson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981. Shisanjing zhijie + f i i t M (The thirteen Confucian scriptures: with annotations), vol. 3. Nanchang: Jiangxi renmin chubanshe, 1993. Su Yu comp. Yijiao congbian (Collected essays on defending Con­ fucianism). Taibei: Tailianguofeng chubanshe, 1970. Tang Zhijun Gailiang yu geming de Zhongguo qinghuai & Jfillpr ^ (ft S fit 18 (On the Chinese sentiments of reform and revolution). Hong Kong: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1990. Thompson, John B. Critical Hermeneutics: A Study in the Thought o f Paul Ricoeur and Jurgen Habermas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981, 1985. Wang Rongzu £E I I Kang Zhang helun {jf Ipi ^ ffffl (A comparative study of Kang Youwei and Zhang Binglin). Taibei: Lianjing chubanshe, 1988. —. Wanqing bianfa sixiang luncong '/f St S M i s M (Essays on late Qing reform thought). Taibei: Lianjing chuban she, 1983. —. “Wuxue sanshisui yicheng: Kang Youwei zaonian sixiang xilun” ® + : 0 W M ^ J® M t/f m (A critical study of Kang Youwei’s thought during his formative years). Hanxue yanjiu (Chinese studies), vol. 12, no. 2 (December, 1994): 51-62. Wei Yuan. Wei Yuan ji SI S HI (Collected essays of Wei Yuan). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1976. Wong, Young-tsu. “Revisionism Reconsidered: Kang Youwei and the Reform Move­ ment of 1898.” Journal o f Asian Studies, vol. 51, no. 3 (August, 1992): 513-44. Zhang Taiyan. Zhang Taiyan quanji ip: yfe ifc ifc HI (The complete works of Zhang Binglin), vol. 3. Shanghai: Renmin chubanshe, 1985. Zhou Guitian f=£ $j\.Dongxue tanwei jjr ® (An in-depth study of Dong Zhongshu’s learning). Beijing: Shifan daxue chubanshe, 1989. Zhu Weizheng “Kang Youwei yu Zhu Yixin” M M PI 7^ — f f (Kang Youwei and Zhu Yixin), Zhongguo wenhua H ' X i t (Chinese culture), vol. 5 (Autumn, 1991): 37-45. Zhu Yixin. “Zhu Shiyu da Kang Changsu shu” (7^: f# ^ H ) (Zhu Yixin’s replies to Kang Youwei). In Kang Youwei, Wanmu caotang yigao waibian, vol. 2: 1978, 2: 797-805, 811-814, 823-827, 832-834.

Part 7 Contemporary Interpretations of Confucian Culture

20 Mou Tsung-san’s Interpretation of Confucianism: Some Hermeneutical Reflections Ming-huei Lee M o u Tsung-san’s interpretation of Confucianism is characterized by the influence of Western philosophy, especially that of Kant. In Mou’s interpretation he employs not only Kant’s philosophical terms such as “thing-in-itself,” “intellectual intuition,” and “autonomy,” but also his philosophical framework of “appearance” and “thing-in-itself.” Mou even views this framework as the common model for all philosophical thinking. His interpretation of Confucianism has encountered criticism from two fronts: On the one hand, he has been reproached for distort­ ing Kant’s “original” philosophy; on the other hand, he has been criti­ cized for reading too much Kant into Confucianism. In this paper, I first sketch out Mou’s interpretation of Confucian­ ism and his grouping of the systems within Confucianism. Then I de­ fend Mou’s philosophical interpretation against the methodological criticism which appeals to Quine’s “conceptual relativism.” Thereaf­ ter, I reconstruct Mou’s hermeneutical principles according to his works. Finally, by explicating the hermeneutical implications of his method of philosophical interpretation, I try to give a justification for his ap­ proach.

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I As a reaction to the challenge of Western Culture, “Contemporary Neo-Confucianism” has arisen in China since the beginning of the twen­ tieth century. In view of the variety of its contents and directions, it should be regarded as an intellectual movement rather than a school. The initiators of this movement include Liang Shu-ming (1893-1988) and Hsiung Shih-li (1885-1968), with Chang Chiin-mai (Carsun Chang, 1887-1969), T ’ang Chiin-i (1909-1978), Hsu Fu-kuan (1903-1982), M ou Tsung-san (1909-1995), and perhaps C h’ien M u (1895-1990) as their followers.1Characteristic of this movement is its attempt to inte­ grate some ingredients of Western culture with Confucian tradition, insofar as these ingredients can facilitate C hina’s modernization and promote the further development of Chinese culture. This attempt is often made possible on the basis of the philosophical reconstruction of Chinese tradition in terms of Western ideas. Their efforts are similar to those of the Fathers of the Church in developing the early Christian theology. In this respect, M ou Tsung-san deserves special attention for his achievements in philosophizing. This paper aims at an analysis of M ou’s interpretation of Confucianism and the hermeneutical problems involved in his reconstruction of Confucian philosophy. M ou’s reconstruction of Confucianism is characterized by his ap­ propriation of Kant’s philosophical framework and concepts. Due to his lack of acquaintance with German, he is, strictly speaking, not quali­ fied as a Kant-specialist. But this disadvantage is offset by his genius for philosophical thinking and his diligence in researching. On the ba­ sis of English versions, he translated K ant’s three “Critiques” and Grundlegung zur Metaphisik der Sitten into Chinese. To these Chinese versions he appended his commentaries, which are not only philologically but also philosophically interpretative. He often interprets Kant’s philosophy by contrasting it with Chinese philosophy, especially with Confucian philosophy. Kant’s influence on M ou’s interpretation of Confucianism can best be considered in two perspectives, the frameworks of philosophical thinking and moral philosophy. In the first place, Mou appropriates Kant’s philosophical framework of “appearance” and “thing-in-itself.” For Mou, this framework even can serve as the common model for all philosophical thinking. In 1975 he published a book under the title, Appearance and Thing-in-itself. In this book, he thoroughly discussed Kant’s distinction between appearance and thing-in-itself. Here he in­

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terpreted Kant’s concept of “thing-in-itself,” not as an epistemological concept as it is usually, but as one with value-connotation, although he realized that Kant had never clearly expressed this thought. In M ou’s view, an epistemological concept of “thing-in-itself’ is not sufficient to support Kant’s transcendental distinction between appearance and thing-in-itself, since the “thing-in-itself’ in this sense always lies be­ yond human knowledge. In order to solve this problematik, Mou ap­ peals to the thesis that human beings are indeed finite, but have access to the infinite— a common conviction of Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism. He finds this access in the “intellectual intuition” of human beings, as revealed in his Intellectual Intuition and Chinese Philoso­ phy (1971). As generally known, Kant ascribes intellectual intuition only to God. But in a full analysis of the relevant texts of The Critique o f Pure Rea­ son, M ou comes to the conclusion that K ant’s philosophical system logically implies the possibility of ascribing intellectual intuition also to man, although it is contrary to Kant’s own expressions— a view­ point which Johann G. Fichte also advocates. Here Mou finds a key to the comparison between Kantian and Chinese philosophy. Therefore, a “transcendent” or “noumenal” metaphysics, which is for Kant impos­ sible, is possible for Chinese philosophy. In such a metaphysics, Mou finds the proper place for Confucian metaphysics. According to Mou, Confucian metaphysics is founded on “ liang-chih” or “pen-hsin,” which is a type of the intellectual intuition of the moral and therefore free subject. In this sense, the “thing-in-itself’ has a practical connotation, because it is a horizon which discloses itself through “ liang-chih.” So Mou views Confucian metaphysics as a “moral metaphysics,” which is different from Kant’s “metaphysics of morals,” inasmuch as the latter means a metaphysical (a priori) explanation of morals. This point brings us to the second perspective, namely, moral phi­ losophy. In the introduction to his epoch-making work Hsin-t’i yii Hsingt ’i (1968-9), Mou critically examines Kant’s system of moral philoso­ phy. Mou agrees with Kant’s view that the essence of morality lies in the “autonomy” of the moral subject (will). In the concept of “au­ tonomy,” Mou finds the key not only to interpret the doctrines of Con­ fucianism, but also to classify the systems within Confucianism. But at the same time he points out that the whole meaning of Kant’s insight in this respect cannot be fully developed within the framework of his own moral philosophy, because Kant presupposes a dualism of the rational and the emotional in the moral agent. Kant’s strict separation of the

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rational from the emotional means that the moral subject can function only as a “principium dijudicationis,” not at the same tim e as a “principium executionisV In other words, the moral subject in Kant lacks a power of self-realization. That means a narrowing of the “au­ tonomy” of the moral subject as its moral self-legislation. For Mou, it is because of this narrowing and the deprivation of intellectual intu­ ition in man that Kant is not in a position to establish a moral meta­ physics. Instead, Mou sees the prototype of moral metaphysics in Con­ fucianism. Thus, in M encius’ theory of “hsin” (heart-mind) as moral subject, M ou finds a more suitable philosophical-anthropological framework for Kant’s concept of “autonomy,” since this theory is based on an a priori universalism as well as a unity of the rational and the emotional. On the basis of M encius’ philosophical anthropology, WangYang-ming then advances the thesis of the unity of moral subject and moral law (hsin-chi-li) as well as that of the unity of moral knowledge and action (chih-hsing ho-i). The first thesis means that “ liang-chih” as moral sub­ ject is the last resort for moral legislation, while the second means that “ liang-chih” functions not only as the “principium dijudicationis,” but also as the “principium executionis” of the moral good. In both characteristics of M encius’ moral philosophy, namely, the ethics of autonomy and the philosophical-anthropological unity of the rational and the emotional, Mou finds the criteria for the grouping of different systems within Confucianism. According to this, he counts Confucius, Mencius, the author(s) of Chung-yung (the Doctrine o f the Mean), and the commentators of the I-ching (Book o f Changes) in the mainstream of pre-Ch’in Confucianism. Instead, Hsiin Tzu is consid­ ered as a representative of another stream of Confucianism, because he established an ethics of heteronomy. For the same reason, M ou ex­ cludes the Han Confucianists from the mainstream of Confucianism, because they appealed to— in Kant’s terms— a “theological ethics,” hence to an ethics of heteronomy. In his works Hsin-t’i yii Hsing-t’i and From Lu Hsiang-shan to Liu Chi-shan (1979), Mou propounds a classification of the Sung-M ing Neo-Confucianists. In his opinion, the Confucianists of the early North­ ern Sung Dynasty Chou Tung-i (Lien-hsi, 1017-1375), Chang Tsai (Heng-ch’ii, 1020-1077) and C h’eng Hao (Ming-tao, 1032-1085) be­ long to the aforementioned mainstream. Here we see something new compared to the traditional view, since the thought of C h’eng Hao and his brother C h’eng I (I-ch’uan, 1033-1107) formerly were not distin­

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guished from each other. There was a further development of Confu­ cianism— according to Mou— into three systems: (1) that of Lu Chiuyiian (Hsiang-shan, 1139-1193) and Wang Shou-jen (Yang-ming, 14721529); (2) that of Hu Hung (Wu-feng, 1100-1155) and Liu Tsung-chou (Chi-shan, 1578-1645); and (3) that of C h’eng I and Chu Hsi (Yiianhui, 1130-1200). The first two systems lead to a moral philosophy which is founded on the autonomy of the moral subject. The difference be­ tween them consists only in their approaches: the first system starts subjectively from a philosophical-anthropological thesis on the human heart-mind, while the second one starts objectively from ontological assertions about “ T’ien” (Heaven). In any event, Mou counts these sys­ tems together in the mainstream of Confucianism. In contrast, the third system is excluded from the mainstream, although through his com ­ prehensive philosophical system Chu Hsi has exerted tremendous in­ fluence on the subsequent development of Confucianism. The reason for this lies in M ou’s judgm ent that this system is intellectualistic, and therefore based on the heteronomy of moral subject.

n In the Chinese-speaking community, M ou’s interpretation of Con­ fucianism, as sketched above, encounters criticisms from two fronts: on the one hand, he is reproached for distorting Kant’s “original” phi­ losophy; on the other hand, he is criticized for reading too much Kant into Confucianism. One example of the former criticism is that of K’uang Chih-jen, who criticizes Mou for interpreting Kant’s concept of “thing-in-itself ’ as one with value-connotation.2 The criticism of Huang Chin-shing is of the latter type; he questions whether it is ap­ propriate to introduce the concept of “autonomy” into the interpreta­ tion of Confucianism.3 In addition, some scholars doubt the accuracy of ascribing the ethics of Chu Hsi to that of heteronomy.4 M ou’s inter­ pretation of Confucianism seems also to fail in coping with the criti­ cism from the so-called “neopragmatic” or “contextualistic” discourse of such scholars as Herbert Fingarette, Roger T. Ames, Henry Rosemont, Jr., Randall R Peerenboom, and others who emphasize the particular­ ity of Chinese philosophy and avoid, as much as they can, using West­ ern philosophical concepts or categories in their interpretations of it.5 But none of the above critics has given a methodological reflection on M ou’s interpretation of Confucianism, as can be found in Fung Yiu M ing’s recent article in Chinese, “Conceptual Relativism and Chinese

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Philosophy.” On the basis of Willard Van Orman Quine’s relevant theo­ ries, Fung advances a so-called “conceptual relativism ” that includes the following points:6 1. Every conceptual scheme is a subjective device, which is able to describe and interpret the objectively real, but has no necessary relation to it. This can be called “internal relativity.” 2. In every conceptual scheme, the meaning of concepts, the truth of sen­ tences, and the affirmation of beliefs are relative to the presumption of this scheme. This can be called “external relativity.” 3. Because of the double relativity, the different concepts which belong to different conceptual schemes or theoretical systems are unintertranslatable, and hence the nexuses of beliefs to which these concepts belong are in­ commensurable. 4. Therefore, no conceptual scheme has absolute and ultimate superiority in its function of justification; and there is no criterion that is independent of all conceptual schemes and hence theoretically neutral. 5. The objectively real that the conceptual relativism presupposes is not the given actual, but a regulative concept, like Kant’s “thing-in-itself.”

6. Conceptual relativism is different from irrationalism, subjectivism, skepti­ cism, and pluralism because it presupposes the objectively real, and admits a relative superiority between different conceptual schemes in regard to their function of describing and interpreting the objectively real. 7. A sa methodology, conceptual relativism rejects any direct conceptual trans­ plantation or appropriation, but admits an absorption or transformation between the conceptual schemes which have similar theoretical traits.

According to his “conceptual relativism,” Fung then makes a quan­ titative comparison between the metaphysical frameworks of Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Buddhism, and Confucianism in terms of ten theoreti­ cal traits, namely, immanence, participation, transcendence, subjectiv­ ity, immutability, objective reality, subject-object duality, contrast of reality, value-connotation, and metaphysical preexistence. In light of this comparison, Fung argues that it is Plato’s metaphysical system— not Kant’s— which is the closest to that of Confucianism.7 From this he concludes: It is a burden for both sides either to adopt or integrate the epistemological conno­ tations of Kant’s concept of “thing-in-itself’ into any system of Chinese philoso­

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phy, or to adopt or integrate the philosophical-anthropological implications of the concept “wu” (thing) included in any system of Chinese philosophy into Kant’s critical philosophy.8

Needless to say, this criticism is leveled at M ou’s interpretation of Chi­ nese philosophy. Here I will not discuss the relation of Fung’s “conceptual relativ­ ism” to that of Quine. But Donald Davidson’s criticism of conceptual relativism is worth discussing in this context, for its relevance to our concern.9 In Davidson’s view, the incommensurability between differ­ ent conceptual schemes implies the unintertranslatability between dif­ ferent languages that can transmit these schemes, granted that every conceptual scheme must be transmitted by some language. However, the unintertranslatability between different languages means either com­ plete or partial failure of translatability. Davidson demonstrates con­ vincingly that we cannot make sense of the claim of complete failure. So the only possibility is the case of partial failure. Here it is not neces­ sary to go further into the details of Davidson’s argument. For our present purpose, it will suffice simply to quote his own words: The dominant metaphor of conceptual relativism, that of differing points of view, seems to betray an underlying paradox. Different points of view make sense, but only if there is a common co-ordinate system on which to plot them; yet the exist­ ence of a common system belies the claim of dramatic incomparability. What we need, it seems to me, is some idea of the considerations that set the limits to con­ ceptual contrast. There are extreme suppositions that founder on paradox or con­ tradiction; there are modest examples we have no trouble understanding.10

In brief, the claim of total unintertranslatability between differing con­ ceptual schemes must presuppose a common coordinate system inde­ pendent of them; otherwise we shall lack a common foundation for the comparison between them. But this amounts to negation of the point we want to defend. Now we may return to Fung’s idea of “conceptual relativism.” Ac­ cording to his fifth and sixth points, he seems to presuppose a common coordinate system, namely, the objectively real, even when he stresses the unintertranslatability between different conceptual schemes. In light o f D a v id s o n ’s th eo ry , we are w a rra n te d to su p p o se th a t by “unintertranslatability” Fung means here only partial failure of trans­ latability, as his seventh point suggests. Therefore, the distance of Fung’s standpoint from that of Davidson is not so great as one may think. When we apply Fung’s conceptual relativism to the intertranslation of differing philosophical systems, for example, Confucian and Kantian,

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it amounts to no more than a trivial truth that in two philosophical systems we cannot find two totally corresponding concepts, because at least they do not have exactly the same position and meaning within their own systems. That is to say, in employing a concept in some sys­ tem to interpret a concept in another system, we are always doing it in an analogical sense, and therefore some conceptual adjustments be­ come inevitable. Even in ordinary conversations we are used to mak­ ing such adjustments consciously or unconsciously. This is why we can communicate with each other by means of the same concepts, al­ though we have different nexuses of beliefs. So, in my opinion, Fung’s “conceptual relativism” is more rhetorical than substantial. In addition, Fung’s “conceptual relativism” as a methodology of philosophical interpretation is poor in content, as long as it can offer no clear-cut criterion for determining between concepts in which there are similarities in theoretical traits that allow a meaningful conceptual absorption or transformation. In regard to the ten theoretical traits which Fung takes for comparison, we may ask: why just these ten? And in point of the comparison between Confucian and Kantian systems, we may also ask: why not compare their ethical, instead of metaphysical, frameworks? It is obvious that in the ethical sphere there are more similarities between the Confucian and Kantian philosophy.11 Moreover, the weakest point in Fung’s “conceptual relativism” lies in the fact that it totally neglects the hermeneutical dimension of philo­ sophical interpretation. Because of this very neglect, he recklessly con­ cludes that Kant’s philosophical framework of appearance and thingin-itself has “no value-connotations,” when he compares it with other philosophical frameworks.12 As we have seen above, Mou interprets Kant’s concept of “thing-in-itself ’ not as an epistemological concept, but as one with value-connotation. If this interpretation is valid, Fung must give up or at least revise his view on M ou’s philosophical inter­ pretation. As I have indicated elsewhere, ...The concept of “thing-in-itself’ in Kant’s philosophy has double meaning. In its epistemological context, it is, as generally understood, a factual concept; in its ethical context, it reveals some kinds of value-connotation. In terms of Kant’s assertion of the primacy of practical to speculative reason, we are oriented to say that the latter, ethical interpretation, is the real implication of this very concept.13

Prima facie, M ou’s interpretation of “thing-in-itself’ seems to have been contrary to K ant’s own expositions, especially to those in the first Critique. Obviously, M ou’s approach presupposes Friedrich Ernst

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Daniel Schleiermacher’s hermeneutical motto: we understand the writer better than he him self did.14 As Hans-Georg Gadamer shrewdly sees, the whole history of modem hermeneutics shows itself in the changing interpretation of this statement, while it contains the proper problem of herm eneutics.15In order to do justice to M ou’s interpretation of Confu­ cianism, it is necessary to go further into his hermeneutical views.

Ill M ou has never articulated a system of philosophical hermeneutics. None of his works has devoted special attention to the problems of m odem hermeneutics. Yet his prefaces to his books Intellectual Intu­ ition and Chinese Philosophy and Appearance and Thing-in-itself, and his lectures entitled “The Text-interpretative Approach for the Study of Chinese Philosophy” and “Objective Understanding and Rebuilding of Chinese Philosophy” reveal his views on hermeneutics. Mou does not draw a sharp distinction between “interpretation” and “understanding.” His hermeneutical view seems to correspond with Gadam er’s dictum: “All understanding is interpretation.”16 In his preface to Appearance and Thing-in-itself\ Mou attempts to justify his interpretation of Chinese philosophy. On the one hand, he appeals to the Buddhist hermeneutical principle of the “four reliances” : Rely on the spirit, not the letter. Rely on the teaching, not the teacher. Rely on direct knowledge, not discursive consciousness. Rely on the definitive meaning, not the provisional meaning.17

On the other hand, he resorts to Kant’s distinction between “rational” and “historical” knowledge in the first Critique. He writes that, ...in interpreting texts, three things should be avoided: superficiality, out-of-con­ text interpretation, and one-sided comparison. One has to comprehend the text thoroughly, while suspending the uncomprehensible. In this way, the fundamental meanings of texts will reveal themselves. Then, one has to determine further the levels and scopes of the meanings. That is to say, one has to make clear the differ­ ences and similarities of the meanings. “Difference” means demarcation between meanings. “Similarity” means convergence of various meanings. Once this be­ comes clear, one may comprehend the meanings of texts through one’s own rea­ son, as if they come from one’s own mouth. It begins with comprehending the meanings on the basis of the “letter,” while ending up with “relying on the spirit, not the letter.” The reasons for “not relying on the letter” lie in avoiding literalism. Literalism achieves only what Kant terms as “historical,” not “rational,” knowl­ edge. The beginners and those who are confined by their own schools are inclined to fall into this trap. Only those who are skilled in text-interpretative method be­

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come able to “rely on the spirit, not the letter.” ... All grand systems of thought are objective rational systems, which are crystallizations of the wisdom of the sages. When we understand the sages’ wisdom through the texts, our lives are to be ex­ alted to the level of reason through their words. How can one speak of “relying on the spirit, not the letter,” if his own life is not moved by the objective truths? Is he really relying on the spirit? At this moment, it is better to start from the very beginning. Such beginning method has to be concrete, actual, and precise. It unites gradually the variety of meanings into reason as their ultimate criterion. It is through the lack of practicable methods that one falsely speaks of the differences and simi­ larities between the meanings due to literalism, or arbitrarily plays with words or unites the meanings by making their demarcations blurred. For those who are skilled in the text-interpretative method, the rational is simultaneously the histori­ cal.18

The above quotation covers almost all important problems of modem hermeneutics. It contains at least three points: 1. Understanding or interpretation has its “objectivity,” and only at the level of reason can it reach “objectivity.” 2. It m ust be through the subjective “life” that understanding or interpreta­ tion reaches its “objectivity ” 3. Understanding or interpretation covers two levels, namely, the semantic and the philosophical, which correspond respectively to Kant’s “histori­ cal” and “rational” knowledge. But the form er level is subordinate to the latter.

If we put these points into the context of modem hermeneutics, their meanings will become more clear. As is well known, in the develop­ ment of modem hermeneutics there are two divergent, although not completely opposite, lines: One was founded by F. E. D. Schleiermacher and W ilhelm Dilthey; the other was initiated by M artin Heidegger and then developed into a methodology by Gadamer. The first line stresses the autonomy of the object of interpretation, and argues strongly for the objectivity of interpretation. The second one starts from the histo­ ricity of understanding, disputes all interpretative standpoints outside of history, and hence questions the possibility of “objectively valid interpretation.” The controversy between these two lines has culm i­ nated in the dispute between Gadamer and Emilio Betti. In light of M ou’s first point, his hermeneutical principle may belong to the line of Schleiermacher, since Mou grants the possibility of “ob­ jectively valid interpretation.” For Mou, the object of philosophical interpretation is not the texts as such, but their meanings, which are comprehensible only through reason. So the term “objective” for him

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means “conforming to reason” rather than “corresponding to the origi­ nal meanings of texts.” It is a motto for the interpretation of philo­ sophical texts: one has to interpret the texts as reasonably as possible. Therefore, we must suppose that a reasonable interpretation corresponds to the “original” meanings of texts more than an unreasonable one. An “objective” understanding or interpretation presupposes the ability to use reason for thinking. Even when we want to prove that the thoughts revealed in some texts contain logical contradiction, we can resort only to reason. This seems to be implied in Bertrand Russell’s remark about the reports of Xenophon and Plato on Socrates: “A stupid m an’s report of what a clever man says is never accurate, because he unconsciously translates what he hears into something that he can understand. I would rather be reported by my bitterest enemy among philosophers than by a friend innocent of philosophy.” 19Regarding the validity of philosophi­ cal interpretation, Mou rejects a relativistic standpoint, insofar as he does not deny the possibility of achieving an interpretation correspond­ ing to the original meanings of texts. But on the other hand, he does not take an objectivistic standpoint, since he finds the criteria for deter­ mining the original meanings not in the texts as such, but in our own reason. M ou’s second point also reveals to us his distance from objectivism, since he views the responsiveness of life as another precondition for a valid interpretation. This reminds us of Dilthey’s hermeneutics, be­ cause he sees the guarantee of an objectively valid interpretation not in abstract reason, but in what he terms as “objective spirit,” namely, in “the manifold forms in which the community existing between indi­ viduals has objectified itself in the sensible world.”20 In other words, the “objective spirit” is the embodiment of human nature in culture, which is, in Dilthey’s system, inseparable from the concept of “life.” Likewise, for Mou, our reason cannot embody itself without life. In this sense, human reason is “experiential.” Therefore, Mou defines Confucianism as a “learning of life” (sheng-ming te hsiieh-wen). For him, the concept of “life” covers both the spiritual activities of indi­ viduals and the institutional activities of communities, such as politics, economy, law, etc.21 Mou also points out that objective understanding requires not only the faculty of understanding, but also “responsive life and temperament.”22 It is obvious how similar is M ou’s hermeneutical view to that of Dilthey. M ou’s third point refers to Kant’s distinction between “rational” and “historical” knowledge. Kant defines these two kinds of knowledge in

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this way: “Historical knowledge is cognitio ex datis\ rational knowl­ edge is cognitio ex principiis.”23 W hether a kind of knowledge is his­ torical or rational does not depend upon its content, but upon the way to acquire it. In brief, the knowledge that one acquires through one’s own rational thinking is “rational.” But the same knowledge would be “historical” if one takes it only as data and does not exalt it to the level of rational thinking. Because the latter kind of knowledge is dead, Kant compares it to a “plaster-cast of a living man.”24 For Kant, philosophi­ cal interpretation should not stay at the level of “historical knowledge,” but must be exalted to the level of “rational knowledge.” In an article published in 1790, Kant replied to the criticism from the Leibnizian, Johann August Eberhard, who claimed that Leibniz’s philosophy had already contained a critique of reason that is more com ­ prehensive than that of Kant. At the end of this article Kant writes, Thus, the Critique o f Pure Reason may well be the real apology for Leibniz, even in opposition to his followers who exalt him with the words of praise which hardly do him honor. It can also be an apology for many older philosophers who speak the purest nonsense through certain historians of philosophy, for all the praises the latter bestow. They do not comprehend the intention of these philosophers when they neglect the key to all explications of the works of pure reason through con­ cepts alone, namely, the critique of reason itself (as the common source of all concepts), and are incapable of looking beyond the literal meaning of what these philosophers have said to what they intended to say. 25

Evidently, “the works of pure reason through concepts alone” refers to what Kant terms as “rational knowledge.” And the distinction between what a philosopher has said and what he intended to say corresponds to that between “historical” and “rational” knowledge. Philosophical in­ terpretation should begin with the literal meanings of texts, and then go further into the level of “rational knowledge.” As soon as it reaches that level, the interpreter may determine the “original” meanings of texts according to his own reason, even in opposition to their literal meanings. This is just what m odem hermeneutics terms as “hermeneu­ tical circle.” So it is no accident that Heidegger appeals to this quota­ tion when he defends his interpretation of Kant’s first Critique.26 In his lecture entitled “The Text-interpretative Approach for the Study of Chinese Philosophy,”27 Mou stresses the necessity of the “text-inter­ pretative approach” (wen-hsien t ’u-ching) for the study of Chinese philosophy. But this is not the case in the study of Western philosophy. As compared with Chinese philosophy, Western philosophy is more systematic, and the concepts it employs are more distinct. Since the

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majority of the Chinese philosophical texts were not systematically written, m odem researchers have to start from reading the texts, and therefore the “text-interpretative approach” becomes necessary. This is why in his works such as Hsin-t’i yii Hsing-t’i, From Lu Hsiangshan to Liu Chi-shan, Ts’ai-hsing yii Hsiian-li (1963), Buddhata and Prajna (1977), and On the Highest Good (1985) M ou has explicated a great many relevant texts. But for him, the “text-interpretative approach” is not identical to the historical or philological approach. He criticizes the philologists of the Ch’ing dynasty for adopting a one-sided herme­ neutical principle: the philosophical implications can be disclosed only after the clarification of the philological issues (Hsiin-ku-ming erhhou i-li-ming). In m odem terms, the fault of the latter approach lies in the neglect of the “hermeneutical circle.” On the contrary, M ou’s “textinterpretative approach” is founded on the circular interactions between philological commentary and philosophical exposition. Unlike the above-mentioned Western philosophers, Mou himself has never built up a philosophical hermeneutics. Yet some of M ou’s herme­ neutical principles can be sketched out on the basis of the foregoing discussions. In brief, he distinguishes between two levels of philosophi­ cal interpretation, the philological and the philosophical. At the former level, an interpreter must “comprehend the meaning on the basis of the letter.” M ou never neglected the methodological meaning of this level, insofar as he translated Kant’s main works, and explicated the basic texts of Chinese philosophy. At the second level of philosophical inter­ pretation, M ou warns us, one must “rely on the spirit, not the letter.” M ou’s philosophical creativity can best be sensed in this regard. In his book Intellectual Intuition and Chinese Philosophy, he thus defends his interpretation of Chinese philosophy: One may say: Your so doing amounts to forcing Kant into the Chinese philosophi­ cal tradition. Kant may not have wished this, and he may have disliked your tradi­ tion, too. I say: What is rational has its necessary consequences, whether you like it or not. Kant may have liked to have known the Chinese tradition, since he gave special attention to morality and also was good at discussing morality. You think that Kant may not have liked the Chinese tradition, because you do not understand the proper, real, and profound meanings of this tradition. As long as the proper, real, and profound meanings of Chinese tradition can be disclosed, I believe, it is still Kant who really would have understood Chinese Confucianism. 28

Just like Kant and Heidegger, Mou claims at the second level of philo­ sophical interpretation that he understands the author better than the author him self did. If someone questions him at this level, that is,

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whether his interpretation corresponds to the original meanings of texts, it reveals only the form er’s ignorance of philosophical thinking as well as the principles and problems of hermeneutics. It may be argued that the criteria for distinguishing a creative interpretation from a distorted one lie in nothing other than the philosopher’s creativity. In this sense and to that extent, it seems to have been safe to defend M ou’s philo­ sophical interpretation of Confucianism.

Notes 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

Professor Yii Ying-shih ^ H 0# has argued that Ch’ien Mu should not be classi­ fied to this “school.” See his “Ch’ien Mu yii hsin-ju-chia” his Yu-chi feng-chui sui-shang-lin >|§ S£ HI Pft 7fc _h 1$ (Taipei: San-min shu-chii, 1991), 31-98. See K’uang Chih-jen ® A , “‘Wu-tzu-shen,’ ‘chih-te-chih-chiieh,’ yii ‘hsinwai-wang’” r j >r j M r J , in Tang-tai hsin-ju-hsiieh lun-wen-chi: wai-wang-p’ien # f t §T f i S m ® • ^ 1 ® (Taipei: Wen-chin ch’u-pan-she, 1991), 325-382. See Huang Chin-shing “Suo-wei ‘tao-te tzu-chu-hsing’: i hsi-fang kuannien chieh-shih chung-kuo szu-hsiang chih hsien-chih te li-cheng” p/rlf r yii: ch ’iian-li hsin-yang yii cheng-tang-hsing ( S A 1 ® • ffl A? " fg ffl] M JE # '|4 (Taipei: Yun- ch’en wen-hua kung-ssu, 1994), 3-24. For this point, see: a) Liu Shu-hsien %\\ 3® ^c, “Yu-kuan li-hsiieh te chi-ko chung-yao wen-t’i te tsaifan-szu” W 3 0^ IS f@IS S? Fr) S W S R S , in his Hsien-shih yii li-hsiang te chiu-chieh IJj, J f M pg p\ (Taipei: T’ai-wan hsueh-sheng shu-chii, 1995), 250. b) Lee Shui Chuen “Chu-tzu tao-te-hsueh hsing-t’ai chih ch’ung-chien” 7^ “F*xB IS $ 88 IS in his Tang-tai hsin-ju-hsiieh chih che-hsiieh k ’ait*o (Taipei: Wen-chin ch’u-pan-she, 1993), 206-225. c) Ch’en L ai|5^^ , Yu-wu chih c h i n g (Peking: Jen-min ch’u-pan-she, 1991), 39. For the implications of this discourse, see Heiner Roetz, Confucian Ethics o f the Axial Age (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 1-6. See Fung Yiu Ming ® j® 00, “Kai-nien hsiang-tui-lun yii chung-kuo che-hsiieh” ® ^ tS f f fro IB- 4 1H S ’¥ , in his Chung-kuo che-ksiieh te fang-fa-lun wen-t’i *4 H -P frtf J f '