Sixth Century BCE to Seventeenth Century
Page 40
tem also required it. It is true, as we have already noted, that he was much more
concerned with knowledge of the human world than that of the natu ral world.
Nevertheless, his objective curiosity about and keen observation of natu ral phe-
nomena were clearly without match among the Neo- Confucians.90 This sustained
interest in the natu ral world came partly from his intellectual temper; his earli-
est won der, which occurred at the age of fi ve or six (Chinese counting), was
about heavenly bodies.91 But it was undoubtedly also closely related to his fi rm
belief that princi ples are inherent in things in the external world, including “a
blade of grass or a tree.” He once told his students: “Princi ples are universally
inherent in all things in the world. But it is the mind that takes charge of them.
Being in charge, the mind therefore makes use of them. It may be said that the
substance of princi ples is in things themselves while their functions depend on
the mind.” Yet the next morning he added the following: “I stated the case in
this way because I was taking myself as the [knowing] subject and things as
objects [of knowledge]. However, the impor tant truth is that there is really no
198 z h u x i ’ s ph ilosoph ic a l s y s t e m
diff erence between saying that princi ples exist in things and that they exist in
us [i.e., the mind].”92 Both the original statement and the afterthought are
highly illuminating. The original statement shows that he fully recognized the
objectivity of princi ples. In terms of substance, they exist in things and are in-
de pen dent of the mind. By saying that “the mind takes charge of princi ples,” he
obviously refers to the fact that the mind can discover, order, and apply them.
The afterthought shows, on the other hand, that he became aware of the possi-
bility that the original statement might mislead his students to question the
validity of his postulation about a priori forms in the mind that correspond to
princi ples inherent in things of the external world. To say “ there is really no
diff erence between saying that princi ples exist in things and that they exist in
us” is to stress the point that in the actual practice of “investigation of things”
and “extension of knowledge,” the subjectivity of a priori forms and the objec-
tivity of princi ples are ultimately to become unifi ed.93
In a letter to Zhang Shi, Zhu Xi wrote:
Confucian learning on the whole begins with a thorough study of princi-
ples. Each individual thing has its own princi ple. Only when a person
has a clear knowledge of princi ples can he get hold of an exact standard
( zhunze
), as of weight and mea sure ment, for his mind to follow in its
functioning. If he does not extend his knowledge in this [realm of princi-
ples] thereby being left, generally, without an exact standard, and is rather
content with the sole claim that he has obtained such and such a knowl-
edge and understanding of the mind, then how would it be pos si ble for
what is preserved in and issued from his mind to conform unerringly to
princi ples?94
Nowhere is the necessity of “the investigation of things” and “the extension of
knowledge” in Zhu Xi’s philosophical system more clearly explained than this
letter. Because his trust of the material and fallible human mind was always
less than total, he therefore wanted to fi nd an objective standard for the mind to
follow so that it may not mistake selfi sh desires for moral princi ples. This exact
standard, in his view, can only be established on the basis of a thorough knowl-
edge of princi ples that exist objectively in things and events in the external
world. Thus, we see that at least in theory, knowledge of the natu ral world and
knowledge of the human world are equally impor tant as far as the objectivity of
princi ples is concerned. As he emphatically pointed out, “princi ples of things
are identical with moral princi ples. The world does not possess two kinds of
princi ples.”95 This is a logical conclusion easily derivable from his fundamental
presupposition that all the individual princi ples in the world are but diff erentia-
tions from a single unitary one that is none other than what he calls the Great
Ultimate ( Taiji
) . Hence, in the fi nal analy sis, the cosmic order and the
moral order follow the same pattern; law for things and moral law are of the
z h u x i ’ s ph ilosoph ic a l s y s t e m 199
same kind.96 Through “inquiry and study,” an objective standard can be discov-
ered in either world, which, from his point of view, would guarantee the objec-
tivity as well as the stability of moral truth.
It was also his distrust of the ordinary human mind and his search for an
exact standard that led him to see the necessity of book learning. He said:
As I see it, the reason that we have to study is because our minds are not
yet as [purifi ed as] the sages’ minds. Since our minds are not yet as puri-
fi ed, we therefore cannot see princi ples clearly and do not have an exact
standard to conform to. As a result, we often follow our personal inclina-
tions, which generally fail to meet the standard by either going beyond or
falling below it. But we are usually unaware of our excesses or defi cien-
cies. If our minds are from the very beginning not at all diff er ent from
the sages’ minds or the cosmic mind, then what do we need study for?
For this reason, it is necessary that we as learners fi rst seek to understand
the ideas or intentions of the sages through early commentaries and then
search for universal princi ples in the light of the ideas or intentions of the
sages. Our search proceeds from the superfi cial to the profound as well as
from what is at hand to what is far- reaching. We do this by following a
step- by- step order, not by jumping to the conclusion with burning impa-
tience. Once we have reached the ultimate limit, our minds will become
naturally rectifi ed. By then, even the sages’ minds or the cosmic mind can-
not be very diff er ent from ours. But I do not mean to suggest that we be
satisfi ed with what is superfi cial and at hand [book learning] and forget
about what is profound and far- reaching [moral princi ples]. Nor do I mean
that we simply go after the minds of the sages at the expense of our own
minds and follow uncritically the interpretations of early commentators
at the expense of our own interpretations.97
This letter speaks remarkably well for itself. I only want to call attention to a few
impor tant points. First, the “exact standard” he was seeking to establish is ulti-
mately to be found in the objectivity of princi ples of things and events of the
external world, not in the subjectivity of the sages’ minds, for the search must
eventually go beyond “the ideas or intentions of the sages.” This is entirely con-
sistent with his hermeneutical princi ple that in the end our understanding
must be able to transcend the classical text. Second, it was never his idea that
we must follow the sages blindly. As a matter of fact, his critical spirit of “doubt”
led him to the contrary. As he explic itly stated elsewh
ere: “We should always
read a text with open mind and fair spirit in order to scrutinize the princi ples
enunciated in it. If there is a valid point, we do not cast it aside simply because it
is made by a common man. On the other hand, if there is a doubtful point, we
must examine it carefully even though it is attributed to a sage or worthy.”98 Third,
it is true that book learning is central to his teaching at the methodological level.
200 z h u x i ’ s ph ilosoph ic a l s y s t e m
However, his insistence on learning from the sages and the worthies of the past
can by no means be construed as arising out of an uncritical and idolatrous at-
titude on his part. Nor is it a result of sheer antiquarianism. It is rather based
on his belief that the past sages had bequeathed to us numerous objective
princi ples that they had discovered through “investigation of things.” They can
serve as our models because their minds had been extremely well cultivated
(or purifi ed) through “inquiry and study.” As learners, we must also cultivate
our minds in the same way. We do this not only by following their examples
but, more impor tant, by also standing on their shoulders. This is precisely
why he says in his “emendation” to the Great Learning that the learner, in re-
gard to all things in the world, must “proceed from what knowledge he has of
their princi ples, and investigate further until he reaches the limit.” The
knowledge of princi ples of things and events now at our disposal is the rich-
est and the most valuable legacy we have inherited from the past sages and
worthies. It must of necessity serve as the starting point of our new investiga-
tions. He said:
It is of course true that in high antiquity, before the writing system had
been in ven ted, the learners had no books to read. Moreover, it is also true
that people with above- average intelligence sometimes can attain the
Way through self- realization and without book learning. However, ever
since the sages and worthies began their creative work, a good deal of the
Way has been preserved in the classics. Therefore, even a sage like Con-
fucius could not have possibly pursued learning apart from them.99
There cannot be the slightest doubt, as Professor Qian Mu
points out, that
he must have written this passage with the question posed by Lu Xiangshan
during their Goose Lake Temple meeting in mind: “Before the time of Yao
and Shun , what books were there for people to read?”100 From his point of
view, this is asking the wrong question, one that borders on sophistry. The his-
torical situation between now and “the time before Yao and Shun” has been
fundamentally changed. The simple truth is that we now do have the Confu-
cian classics, which defi ne the Way in its main outlines as well as in its minute
details. If we are in quest of the very same Way, as Lu Xiangshan apparently
was, then what pos si ble justifi cation do we have for our refusal to start the
search with the classics? Zhu Xi’s keen historical consciousness naturally led
him to emphasize the importance of the tradition of Confucian scholarship.
For him, knowledge of princi ples of things and events is always an accumula-
tive enterprise.
Lastly, Zhu Xi’s statement in the above passage, “Nor do I mean that we
simply go after the minds of the sages at the expense of our own minds,” is an
outright rejection of the idea of “transmission of mind,” then in wide currency.
z h u x i ’ s ph ilosoph ic a l s y s t e m 201
In his view, what can be transmitted is not the mind but the Way, which con-
sists of the princi ples objectively discovered by the sages’ minds in things and
events.101 Since the mind is essentially a knowing mind, the best a person can
hope to accomplish is to raise his mind to the level of purifi cation as high as the
sages’ minds. There is no way he can take the sage’s mind as his own, however.
He is convinced that only the sage’s words exhibit the sage’s mind, which is
nothing but the embodiment of the princi ples in the world. Only by studying
carefully and step by step the sage’s words can one expect to grasp these princi-
ples. But Lu Xiangshan believes, according to Zhu Xi, that a person can obtain
the princi ples by relying only on his own mind without the help of the sages’
words. It is indeed excellent, says Zhu Xi, if a person is able to obtain, all by
himself, the right kind of princi ples. But what if the princi ples he gets turn out
to be of the wrong kind?102 Here again Zhu Xi displays his deep distrust of the
subjectivity of mind on the one hand and his basic concern with the objective
validity of moral princi ples on the other. Seen in this light, the roots of his dif-
ferences with Lu Xiangshan on the pedagogic level indeed strike deep in their
diff er ent conceptions of such key Neo- Confucian ideas as “princi ple” ( li) and
“mind” ( xin) .
Unlike Zhu Xi, Lu Xiangshan’s concern is not with the objectivity of princi-
ples but rather with the subjectivity of mind. Needless to say, I cannot deal with
his theory of mind here.103 All I need to say is that his trust of the subjectivity
of mind is unlimited.104 His well- known proposition, “Mind is Princi ple,” his
identifi cation of the mind with the (spatio- temporal) cosmos, his emphasis on
the “recovery of the original mind,” and many other similar formulations all
point in the same direction. “Mind” conceived in this way cannot possibly be
identifi ed with that as understood by Zhu Xi, which, as we have seen, is essen-
tially “formed to know.” It makes sense only if interpreted as the absolute moral
mind.105 With regard to this mind, there cannot be princi ples external to it; all
objectivity is absorbed into subjectivity. Zhu Xi’s question of an “objective stan-
dard,” therefore, will never arise in the context of Lu Xiangshan’s philosophy.
Moreover, according to Lu Xiangshan, this absolute moral mind that is shared
by every one does not change with time. History, therefore, makes little diff er-
ence, and tradition is of no fundamental importance. The “recovery of the origi-
nal mind” depends entirely on every one’s own eff ort; it cannot count on the words
or minds of the sages and the worthies for help in an essential way. Lu once
reminisced that his understanding of Confucian learning was self- attained on
the occasion of reading the Mencius.106 Obviously, he here placed the emphasis
more on self- attainment than on the book, which only provided the occasion for
his enlightenment. It is also very in ter est ing to note that he reached the same
conclusion as Zhu Xi did with regard to the prob lem of “transmission of mind,”
but for completely diff er ent reasons. In the Goose Lake Temple meeting, he was
dissatisfi ed with the second line of his brother Jiuling’s
poem composed
202 z h u x i ’ s ph ilosoph ic a l s y s t e m
specifi cally for the occasion. It reads: “Ancient sages pass on this mind.” In re-
sponse, the same line of his own poem says: “ ’Tis man’s indestructible mind
through all ages.”107 Clearly, in his view, recovery of the original mind depen
ds
primarily on every one’s “self- attainment,” whereas “transmission of mind” im-
plies a dependence on the minds, and consequently, also the words, of the
sages.108 It was in this way that Lu Xiangshan’s view of mind led, by its inner
logic, to an attitude toward book learning diametrically opposed to Zhu Xi’s.
not e s
1. This is a reference to the “Zhongyong”
, which provides the locus classicus of zun
dexing and dao wenxue. The “Zhongyong” has been traditionally ascribed to Zisi
(483–402 b.c.e.?), Confucius’s grand son.
2. Zhu Wengong wenji
(hereafter Wenji), SBCK, chap. 54, 962, “Reply to Xiang
Pingfu.”
3. See Lu Xiangshan’s “nianpu”
in the Xiangshan xiansheng quanji
,
SBCK, chap. 36, 321, and Yulu
in SBCK, chap. 34, 261. I have followed Lu’s nianpu
in dating Zhu’s letter to Xiang Anshi. Wang Maohong
(1668–1741) is clearly
wrong in assigning this letter to 1181, for this was the year that Xiang Anshi fi rst came
to know Lu Xiangshan. See Wang Maohong, Zhuzi nianpu
, GXJBCS, 100.
4. See Yu Ji’s
(1272–1348) “Xingzhuang”
of Wu Cheng in Daoyuan xuegu lu
, SBCK, chap. 44, 386–387.
5. See Wang Yangming’s two letters to Xu Chengzhi
, written in 1522, in the Yang-
ming quanshu
, SBBY, 21:5a–8b.
6. For example, see Xu Jie’s
(1503–1583) “Xueze bian”
, in Xiangshan xiansheng
quanji, “Fulu”
, 14–15.
7. See SYXA, WYWK, chap. 58, 6–8. Huang Zongxi’s view was also followed by his son
Bojia
(ibid., 8) and Quan Zuwang
(1705–1755) in Jieqi ting ji, waipian
,
, SBCK, chap. 44, 656–657.
8. For the term “polarity,” see B. I. Schwartz, “Some Polarities in Confucian Thought,” in
Confucianism in Action, ed. David S. Nivison and Arthur F. Wright (Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1959), 51–52.
9. For “unit- ideas,” see Arthur O. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1936), 3–6.
10.
ZYL (Taipei: Zhengzhong, 1973), chap. 64, 2524.
11. See Zhu Hengdao’s