[Zhang, “Neipian,” Wenshi tongyi 5: 24b–31b—SLM, LAS]
CUI SHU AND THE CRITICAL SPIRIT
One of the finest representatives of the integrity, critical spirit, and sound scholarship that marked the best of Qing learning is the historian Cui Shu (1740–1816). Through a long lifetime of scholarly endeavor he worked to refute not only the late Song and Ming interpretations of the classics but even the interpretations and errors of the Han Confucians, attempting by methods of historical research to restore the purity of ancient Confucianism. His most important researches are embodied in a collection of essays titled Record of Beliefs Investigated (Kaoxin lu). In addition, he wrote a brief work called Essentials of the Record of Beliefs Investigated (Kaoxin lu tiyao), in which he expounded in an informal style, interspersed with lively anecdotes, the ideals and methods that guided him in his work.
Cui avoided official life for the most part and preferred to devote himself to independent scholarly research, though this choice inevitably meant a life of hardship and poverty for himself and his faithful wife. Of his great work, Record of Beliefs Investigated, a famous disciple said, “Since his ideas were of no value in the examination halls, there were few who believed in him. On the contrary, there were those who seized upon his most trustworthy conclusions and on his clearest elucidations to discredit him. Within the next century there will surely be some in this broad empire who will truly understand him.”51
FOREWORD TO THE ESSENTIALS OF THE RECORD OF BELIEFS INVESTIGATED
Is it impossible to believe what other people have said? The world is very large and I cannot do and see everything in it. How much more so with the world of a thousand years ago! If I do not accept the accounts of other men, by what means can I find out about it? But is it possible to believe everything that others have said? . . . Tongues will grow in people’s mouths and there is nothing to restrain them; brushes will find their way into men’s hands and there is nothing to hold them back. Whatever comes into a man’s head to say he may say, and there is no limit to how far he can go. . . .
In our prefectural town there was a Liu family who had two meteorites. According to the story that was told by everyone around the village, some shooting stars had fallen long ago on the Liu mansion and changed into stones. I was still young when I heard of this, but I already doubted it. When I was a little older I was playing once with the Liu boys and they showed me the stones and some inscriptions carved on them in seal and ordinary script. When I questioned them very closely they finally said, “That story is not really true. One of our ancestors was an official in the south, where he came across these stones. They were such an odd shape that he supposed there were no others like them in the world and so he just carved these inscriptions to give proof, and yet as you see the whole thing was a fake.” How then is one to go about ascertaining the truth of what people say?
When the Zhou declined, many strange doctrines sprang up. The various schools of Yangzi, Mozi, the Logicians, the Legalists, the diplomatic alliances, and the yin and yang all made up sayings and invented incidents to fool wise men and sages. The Han Confucians were acquainted with these various teachings and, accepting them as quite reliable without even examining them carefully, proceeded to note them down in their books and commentaries. . . . After this there appeared the cults of the prophet, even more absurd, and yet [in the Han] Liu Xin and Zheng Xuan made use of them in expounding the classics so that they have been handed down for ages now. Scholars avidly study all these without ever examining their origins. They suppose only that, since the Han Confucians were close to antiquity, their assertions must be based upon older traditions and not irresponsibly selected at random. Even among the Song Confucians, with all their diligence and purity, there are many who accepted these theories without alteration. . . . Mencius said, “It would be better to be without the Classic of Documents than to believe it all. In the ‘Completion of the War’ section, I select only two or three passages that I believe” [7B: 3]. If a sage like Mencius is as cautious as this when reading the classics, how much more so in the case of commentaries on the classics, and even more with the various philosophical works. Mencius also said, “In learning extensively and discussing minutely what is learned, the object is to be able to go back and set forth in brief what is essential” [4B: 15]. One desires a wide range of information not for the sake of extensive learning itself but only because one wishes by repeated comparisons and revisions of the data to arrive at a single truth. If one simply exhausts all learning without knowing what to select, then although he reads all the books in the world he is not so well off as a stupid and uneducated man who is yet free from serious error. . . .
The Han Confucian Dong Zhongshu once wrote a work on disasters and portents. Emperor Wu submitted the book to the court officials for their opinion. Lü Bushu, one of Dong Zhongshu’s disciples, having no idea that the book was written by his teacher, expressed the opinion that it was a work of gross stupidity. As a result, Dong Zhongshu was put on trial for his life. To any book written by their own teachers men accord the fullest honor and belief; any book not by their teachers they disparage and revile the merits of the works. . . . When I read the classics I do not respect them blindly merely because they are classics. Instead I try only to discover the intentions of the sages, and thereby come to appreciate the loftiness and beauty of their writings so that I cannot be misled by forgeries. . . .
Neither in the past nor in the present has there ever been any lack of people who read books. . . . Among them have been scholars of keen intellect whose intentions were of the loftiest. And yet they were led astray by the fashions of the times. . . . As scholars who valued truth none can compare with the Song Confucians. Yet most of them concerned themselves with questions of the nature and principle of things and with moral philosophy. If one looks among them for men who devoted themselves to historical research, he will find no more than two or three out of ten. By Ming times scholarship had grown increasingly heterodox, and it became so that if one hoped to write anything important he had to be conversant with Chan doctrines and interlard his library shelves with Buddhist books. . . .
In the past centuries there have been plenty of scholars who devoted their minds to the study of antiquity. Whenever I read works such as Zhao Mingcheng’s Record of Inscriptions on Metal and Stone (with the colophon by Hong Mai) or Huang Bosi’s Further Studies of the Dongguan, I never fail to remark with a sigh that the breadth of learning and diligence of research of these former scholars surpass mine a hundred times. By the detail on a plate or a vase, some minute point about a goblet or a ladle, they declare, “This is Zhou,” “This is Qin,” “This is Han.” The preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection [on the ritual of the lustral sacrifices], written by Wang Xizhi, surely has no connection with the practical dos and don’ts of human affairs, and yet scholars ask, “Which is his genuine calligraphy?” “Which is forged calligraphy?” so thorough are they in their research and so discriminating in their judgments. Yet when it comes to the affairs of the rulers and sages of antiquity, which are directly concerned with morals and the human heart, people accept what others say without discriminating between truth and falsehood. Why should this be?
In order to repair some of the omissions of former scholars and supplement certain of their defects, I have written this book, Record of Beliefs Investigated (Kaoxin lu), which I hope will not be found entirely useless.
[Kaoxin lu tiyao, CSJC A: 2–22—BW]
HAN LEARNING AND WESTERN LEARNING
It may seem surprising that in an age whose intellectual ideals were breadth of knowledge and practicality of thought, the new knowledge from Europe that the Jesuits brought to China in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries did not make more of a stir. This was certainly not owing to lack of acquaintance with the new learning or lack of opportunities to learn more. The Jesuits had attracted wide attention by their scientific feats and had been installed for more than a century as the official astronomers of th
e Ming and Qing courts. They had even made a few important converts to their own faith among scholar-officials and a not inconsiderable number among the common people—enough to cause alarm to men like the xenophobic official Yang Guangxian (1597–1669), who saw in Western science as well as in Christianity a threat to all of Chinese civilization. Yet the net impression made on the Confucian mind was slight.
It is true that interest in mathematics and astronomy among men like Huang Zongxi, and others after him in the Han school, was greatly stimulated by the revelations of the Jesuits; in fact, a few individuals, like Mei Wending (1633–1721), were even ready to acknowledge the great value of the new scientific learning and to assimilate it. Indeed, a fair number of the best known scholars of the day were cognizant of the new Western learning, and in a few cases, most notably that of Fang Yizhi (1611–1671), it led to a significant reexamination not only of traditional Chinese astronomy but even of a central value in Neo-Confucian teaching, the “investigation of things,” which he directed toward “externals” and empirical research.52
Yet on the whole these new speculations “did not greatly influence the general course of Qing intellectual history.”53 More typically, however, this new interest was directed toward a reexamination of China’s traditional methods of astronomy, toward recovering much genuine knowledge that had been lost owing to centuries of neglect, or toward defending Chinese tradition by showing, with great ingenuity, that what was valid in the scientific learning of the West was not really new but was borrowed indirectly from the ancient Chinese, or that, on the other hand, what clearly conflicted with traditional lore must be held invalid. Ruan Yuan (1764–1849), a prodigious scholar as well as a leading official of his time, testified to the new interest in mathematics and astronomy by his biographies of notable contributors to these sciences, including even Westerners like Ptolemy. Yet his Sino-centric point of view is evident. He contends that because the knowledge of astronomy attributed to Ptolemy by the Jesuits was so far in advance of the Chinese at the same time (the Han dynasty), the Jesuits must have deliberately exaggerated it in order to deceive the Chinese concerning the accomplishments of the West.54 Another contention of his is that the revolution of the earth around the sun must be a fallacious theory since it “departs from the classics and is contrary to the Way.”55
We should not conclude from this that the attitude of most Confucian scholars toward Western learning was hostile or sharply defensive. More generally it was one of indifference. When in 1818 Ruan Yuan sponsored the publication of Jiang Fan’s monumental survey of the school of Han Learning in the Qing dynasty (Guochao Hanxue shicheng ji), neither Jiang nor Ruan, in prefatory remarks concerning the significance of this movement, found it necessary to mention its position with respect to Western learning. The great antagonists in Ruan’s mind were still the old ones—Buddhism and Daoism—and he placed much emphasis on the contribution of the Han school in purging Confucianism of Buddhist and Daoist elements that had infiltrated the original teaching.
What, then, are the reasons for this notable disinclination to pursue more vigorously contacts with the West, when by contrast many of the best minds in Europe were avidly devouring not only curious information about China but the teachings of Confucius himself as related by the Jesuits (from whom we inherit our romanization of his Chinese name, Kong Fuzi)? Much has been written on this question, and much more remains to be studied. The Jesuits themselves, from the outset, observed that the general disinterest of the Chinese in Western science was a reflection of their preoccupation with studies that led to official preferment. The Jesuit Nicholas Trigault (1577–1628), for instance, puts it this way:
It is evident to everyone here that no one will labor to attain proficiency in mathematics or in medicine who has any hope of becoming prominent in the field of [Confucian] philosophy. The result is that scarcely anyone devotes himself to these studies, unless he is deterred from the pursuit of what are considered to be the higher studies, either by reason of family affairs or by mediocrity of talent. The study of mathematics and that of medicine are held in low esteem, because they are not fostered by honors as is the study of philosophy, to which students are attracted by the hope of the glory and the rewards attached to it. This may be readily seen in the interest taken in the study of moral philosophy. The man who is promoted to the higher degrees in this field, prides himself on the fact that he has in truth attained to the pinnacle of Chinese happiness.56
And Jean-Baptiste Du Halde, in reporting the Jesuits’ generally favorable impressions of early Qing China, notes:
The great and only Road to Riches, Honour and Employments is the study of the jing (or canonical books), History, the Laws and Morality; also to learn to do what they call wenzhang, that is, to write in a polite Manner, in Terms well chosen, and suitable to the Subject treated upon. By this means they become Doctors, and that Degree once obtained, they are possessed of such Honor and Credit, that the conveniences of life follow soon after, because they are sure to have a Government post in a short time. Even those who return into their Provinces to wait for Posts, are in great Consideration with the Mandarin of the Place; they protect their families against all vexations, and there enjoy a great many privileges. But as nothing like this is to be hoped for by those who apply themselves to the speculative Sciences, and as the Study of them is not the Road to Honours and Riches, it is no wonder that those sorts of abstract Sciences should be neglected by the Chinese.57
What Du Halde says here about the key role of the civil service examination system (the term wenzhang refers specifically to the examination essay) only confirms what Confucian reformers themselves had repeatedly pointed to: that education in China, and the capabilities of the educated class, were relatively limited by the type of examination system that controlled entrance to official life (still the most preferred of careers). Recent scholarship has tended to confirm this early judgment: namely that the new interest in scientific investigation and cosmological speculation did not significantly deflect the mainstream of Confucian scholarship from its perennial pursuits—the central Neo-Confucian texts in the educational and examinations curriculum. As John Henderson has said: “Achievements in most other fields of learning [than Neo-Confucianism] were not so munificently rewarded or highly regarded.”58 And even among those not caught up in the examination culture, but more committed to scholarly research, like Gu Yanwu and the Han Learning, it could be said that their efforts were “largely focused on matters relating to human affairs and thus their energies were channeled into historical and textual studies, and ideally, statecraft.”59
During the first half of the Manchu dynasty, the great influence of the state in intellectual matters was further exerted through its patronage of Confucian scholarship. In an attempt to demonstrate that though they were foreigners, their rule was based on a full appreciation of the best in Chinese culture, the Manchus lavished special honors on Confucian scholars recognized for their broad classical learning and employed large numbers of scholars and scribes in ambitious projects for the preservation, codification, and explication of the classical tradition—projects of such magnitude as the collection of the Complete Library of the Four Treasuries (Siku quanshu) from texts gathered all over the land and the preparation of a compendious critical bibliography for it.
The fact that this collection process also enabled the Manchus to screen out and destroy works considered subversive of their rule (a censorship process not unmixed with scholarly politics) was perhaps less significant as a negative factor than the positive support given to a type of classical research in which Chinese scholars, pursuing their own line of thought, were already diligently engaged. Nor should we overlook a more subtle and indirect contribution of the Manchus to the Chinese self-absorption in intellectual matters: the sense of well-being and complacency that was fed by the initial success of the Manchus as rulers of China in the great Kangxi and Qianlong reigns. The empire was peaceful and prosperous, the population was growing,
and the arts of civilization flourished as never before. In such circumstances it was difficult to take seriously a bid from the West that had only been tendered at the hands of gentle missionaries and was not as yet backed by overwhelming force.
THE QING VERSION OF NEO-CONFUCIAN ORTHODOXY
Compared to the wide range, fluidity, and variety of late Ming thought, the early Qing period witnessed both a conservative reaction among scholars to the freethinking of the late Ming and a parallel strengthening of central institutions that promoted ideological consensus and continuity. A key point in restoration of the dynastic state was the early resumption by the Qing of civil service examinations with a content and form basically similar to those of the Yuan and Ming and with Zhu Xi’s version of the Four Books as the basic texts. This represented orthodoxy as an officially approved body of correct teachings, without necessarily entailing the proscription of other works or views. Simply to have the exams focus on the Neo-Confucian canon as shaped by Zhu Xi meant that, since school curricula generally aimed at preparation for the examinations, the thinking of most educated people would early be exposed to and formed by Zhu Xi’s teachings.
This was not done simply by imperial fiat. In fact, as in the Yuan case earlier, the dynastic endorsement of Zhu Xi followed upon the prior recognition and acceptance of Zhu Xi’s curriculum in the local academies and among independent scholars. As we have seen in volume 1, a tidal conservative reaction to Wang Yangming’s liberal teachings had already shown itself at the end of the Ming, as manifested in the neo-orthodox reformism of the Donglin Academy and Fu She society, expressing the alarm of the Confucian scholar-elite over signs of political decadence and a decline in public morality.
Sources of Chinese Tradition, Volume 2 Page 11