On Ethics and History

by Zhang Xuecheng

  The [meaning] of a book is difficult to comprehend from a single perspective : reading it, “a benevolent person will see benevolence and a wise person will see wisdom.”27 The cultivated individual regards the rhythms of poetry [in the ancient style] and the rules of composition for [ancient] prose as things that one “is capable of doing without study.”28 They are like the restraint or release of tears and laughter or the suppression or elevation of songs and sobs. If one insists on making a display of these in order to show others [what they are like], this will have the undesirable result that people will be bound by [these illustrations] and will fail to grasp fully the feelings associated with singing, sobbing, crying, and laughing. Nevertheless, if from one’s own perspective, one avoids engaging in forced and far-fetched interpretations and suddenly experiences a clear insight that is understood in one’s heart-mind and takes up one’s brush to write it down as a record for personal reflection, this has never failed to serve as a resource for developing one’s style of composition. However, if one then takes this personal perspective and says that the people of the world should all model this way of thinking, some in later times may indeed follow. But were we to raise the ancients up [from the grave] and ask them [about this], they would say, “This is not what I proposed!” Wouldn’t this be shameful?

  ESSAY 11

  Distinguishing What Only Seems to Be

  People hide their heart-minds, one cannot take their measure.1 But spoken words are sounds from the heart-mind, and one who is skilled at observing people need look only to their words.2 [Now] people are not necessarily good, and yet in what they say, they never fail to feign goodness. [And so] one who is skilled at observing people need only examine what motivates the goodness of their words. Kongzi said, “At first, my attitude toward others was to listen to their words and believe they would act accordingly. Now, my attitude toward others is to listen to their words and observe their actions.” 3 He worried that what people said did not always express thoughts that we would regard as sincere. As for words that are not from the heart-mind, they are like false litigation; [in the presence of a cultivated person] those who [offer false] testimony will find they have nothing to say and the truth will be easy to see.4 Insincere words present no problem for the cultivated person. [But] the greatest problem that one can suffer in one’s study is [caused by] words that are exactly like those of the cultivated person. There are those who say things exactly like [what the cultivated person says], and yet if we inquire into why they say [what they do], we find that in this slight discrepancy there lies a world of difference. Their words seem to be [like those of the cultivated person], but they are not.

  The things said in the world really are not so numerous. (Speech is infinitely varied, and yet the main ideas expressed can be covered in several basic principles. And so, I say, the things said are not so numerous.)5 Human beings have various, unequal abilities. When people with various, unequal abilities give voice to the limited things said [in the world], this results in cases where people who follow very different ways cannot help but say the same things. It may be compared to the situation of a city with [only] four gates. Within the city there may be a million people. They pass through the gates and proceed on to distant places and so cannot travel along just four roads. And yet, when they leave the city, they only have [and hence must use one of] four gates. And so, though they are headed in different directions, when they set off on their journeys, they cannot but be the same. They don’t purposely mimic one another; it’s not that they are headed east and pretend to go west; circumstance causes them to be this way.

  The [people were taught to] cultivate the five grains in order to ensure that there was enough to eat.6 Yi Di said, “The five grains must ripen!”7 [But] if we could ask him why he prayed for them to ripen he would say, “If they don’t ripen, we won’t have any way to make wine!” The people were taught sericulture so that the elderly would be able to wear silk.8 Chi You said, “We must raise silkworms and mulberry [trees]!”9 [But] if we could ask him why he wanted to raise them, he would say, “If we do not raise them, we will have no way to make flags and banners [for war].” Now, can one deny that Yi Di and Chi You sincerely desired grain and silk? And yet, the people could not depend upon these men for food or clothing. The Book of Changes says, “What cannot be fathomed in the workings of the yin and yang is regarded as the daemonic.”10 Now, “what cannot be fathomed in the workings of the yin and yang” is not separate from the yin and yang. When we “talk about the mysteries among the ten thousand things,” [what we refer to] is not something separate from the ten thousand things, and “a sage who is beyond our understanding” is not separate from his “realized goodness shining brightly.”11 And so, those who talk about the sage, the daemonic, and the mysterious do so in order to keep people from getting bogged down in the exterior traces of things and to get them to proceed from what they are able to perceive to attain an understanding of what they cannot perceive.

  In the study of literature, there is the realm of the daemonic and mysterious. Lesser students only get at the surface; in their quest, they remain mired in the exterior traces. Those with real knowledge recognize that within [good writing] lie the daemonic and the mysterious: things that one can understand but which cannot be transmitted through words.12 Those who are unlearned and lack understanding have heart-minds that are blocked up, [which the truth] cannot penetrate; they exhaust themselves in disputation and still express nothing. They too talk about what one can understand but which cannot be transmitted in words. This is why the cultivated person hates those things that seem to be but are not!13

  Bohun Wuren said to Liezi, “[The problem is that] people will want to care for you. It’s not that you are unable to get them to care for you; rather it’s that you are not able to get them not to care for you.”14 This being the case, not being able to get people to care for one is [considered] inferior to being able to get people not to care for one. The median [between these two extremes] is for others to care for one [as a result of their own choice]. And so, in the world, only the median position is easily distinguished. The superior position exceeds it, the inferior position falls short of it.15 In this respect, the two extremes are alike.

  When one begins one’s studies, one is unable to recite [the classics] from memory. Once one’s learning has become profound, through the course of extensive study and inquiry, one will pass beyond reciting [the classics] from memory. And so, reciting from memory is the boat and the cart [i.e., the vehicle] of learning. Those who seek to reach their destination must avail themselves of boats and carts, but when they reach their destination, they abandon both boats and carts. Those who never take a single step will also not use boats or carts. And those who do not [ever] use boats or carts will try to blend in with those who have [used and] abandoned boats and carts [after reaching their destinations]. And so, the cultivated person hates those things that seem to be but are not! (When Cheng Yi discovered that Xie Liangzuo had broad knowledge of the classics and commentaries, he regarded this knowledge as something that “dissipates one’s will by engaging in trifles.” In the final analysis, [Cheng Yi’s position] does not resemble the Confucian teaching concerning “a single thread.”) 16

  When first encountering some principle [of truth], the wise and the stupid or the worthy and unworthy are not very far apart [in terms of their understanding]. But if one thinks it over for awhile, one will become confused and one’s [judgment will be] unreliable. If one reflects on it a third time, one will become dazed and deluded and will seem to have lost [the understanding that one had at the beginning]. It’s not that the effort of thinking it over three times per se causes one’s understanding to be less than what it was at first. But at first one stood outside [the principle that one is considering] and so one’s daemon was whole. Through the process of reflecting on it three times, one enters into the principle, and one’s spirit follows along its various twists and turns.

  One must follow [the imp
lications of] every twist and turn before one can return to the excellent state one was in when one first encountered [the principle]. And so, in pursuing one’s studies, one must not be afraid of the difficulties. And yet, when one is following the twists and turns and one’s daemon lacks the wholeness that one had when one first encountered [the principle], one must continually recall the initial [moment of] seeing [the truth] and use this as a compass to steer through the confusion, dizziness, and delusion. [If one does this], one may well be able to return to the [wholesome state from which one] began.

  When I look at those today who love learning, I see that when they begin they do not apply themselves to some initial [insight], and later on they have no goal for which to strive. They say that with eager application and strenuous exertion alone, their learning can help others. But they drift along like an untethered boat.17 Though they may gallop a thousand li in a single day, where will they apply [what they know]? This is why I say that in pursuing one’s studies, one must not be afraid of the difficulties. This is why the cultivated individual hates those things that seem to be but are not.

  As for the idea that words are a means by which one makes principles clear and literary style is a tool for recording such words, this is to vainly decorate an empty cart without ever hearing about what is most important. 18 And so, succumbing to [an obsession with] literary style is not worthy of the name “style.”19 The Book of Changes says, “When things are brought together, we call this ‘pattern’ (wen ).”20 It also says, “Its (i.e., the Book of Changes) principles are far-reaching; its language is elegant.”21 The Book of History says, “In government, what is valued is constancy. In language, what is esteemed is embodying what is essential.”22 The Book of Odes says, “If your words are harmonious, the people will become united.”23 The Book of Rites says, “Do not plagiarize, do not be a mere imitator (literally: ‘a clap of thunder’). When you follow the ancients, honor the former kings.”24 The Commentary of Zuo says, “As for language, it must simply communicate one’s meaning.”25 Zengzi said, “In your speech and manner, keep far from vulgarity and baseness.”26

  The words of the classics and commentaries and those of the sages and worthies have always valued [literary] style. It would seem that literary style surely is how one records the principles [of the Way]. If the style is not perfect, the principles will not be clear; moreover, literary style has principles of its own. When people see beauty and ugliness—what is attractive and what is repulsive—if they are not constrained, they will respond with the same kind of feelings. [In such cases,] the style in which these things are presented has nothing to do [with how people react], and this itself is a principle of style! And so in the best [examples of] literature, though literary style is not the most important thing, it is not as though they are without literary style. Yet crude scholars who are without learning howl about how “applying oneself to literary art injures the Way.”27 This is why the cultivated person hates those things that seem to be but are not.

  Luji said, “Though [something that I write is] woven into my very soul, I fear that others may have preceded me [in hitting upon these expressions]. If integrity is injured or propriety transgressed, though I may love it, yet must I forsake it.”28 What he is saying is that an author, working at the limits of his capacities, is always afraid that some earlier writer preceded him in saying the same thing. If, in fact, what he wrote is the same as what some ancient wrote, then [to claim it] would be to injure integrity and transgress propriety, and though he may love it most profoundly, he must cut it out [of his work]. Han Yu said, “Only the writings of the ancients always came from themselves. Later people were unable to do this and so plagiarized them.”29 This expresses the same idea.

  Those scholars who set forth words regard the ideas [behind the words they set forth] as their guiding principle. This is why [such authors] cannot be counted among the members of the school of literary style. If people agree with “this mind,” then this mind will agree with this principle [of truth].30 [But] the universe extends [far] out into the distance and so the writings we have are jumbled and confused. How can one [possibly] ensure that what one says has never been said by any ancient? [One need not, and] this is the first case of something that [really] causes no harm. Now people’s minds can be as different as their faces,31 [But] if unintentionally one’s [writing] ends up looking like another’s, [still] in the nuances and emphases there surely will be places that are not exactly alike, which people naturally will distinguish. This is the second case of something that [really] causes no harm. In writing a book, the guiding principles [one might employ] are not numerous, yet the words one could employ come in the tens of thousands and are without end. If, by chance, one says the same thing as some ancient writer in one or two places, the places where one’s writing is not the same will [nevertheless] even out those few instances where it happens to be the same. This is the third case of something that [really] causes no harm.

  When I look at writers today, they simply lack what we call a guiding principle. They draw upon what the ancients said and enlarge upon it, but the points they enlarge upon are all things the ancients already have covered most thoroughly. Though they do this sort of thing, the result clearly is the product of a mediocre talent, and anyone looking at it can tell this at a glance. In the end, such writings will simply be used as lids to cover pickle jars. [Such writers] surely pose no threat to what people do. But then there are the cunning and crafty: those who readily take on the appearance of the ancients and appropriate their ideas. If there is an original author among their contemporaries, they elaborate upon his ideas and conceal the [true] source. In some cases, such people will overhear others discussing some insight that they have yet to put down on paper and hurriedly they will steal the idea and pass it off as their own. Later, if the one who had the original insight goes on to write about it, his work will end up being published after [that of the plagiarist]! Moreover, the selfish and petty knowledge of such individuals is adequate for covering up their defects and exaggerating their merits to the point where people become bewildered and are unable to discern their true purpose. Since they never are confronted and questioned by those from whom they steal and since they develop aspects of the topics [they steal] that the original authors themselves had yet to explore, it is not at all easy to overcome their deceptions. It may happen that one who shares their particular specialty will investigate and explore thoroughly every facet of their work and begin to attack their subterfuge. Nevertheless, the harm done by such people, who steal fame and deceive their age, is not confined to a single day. For the people of that time [who are deceived by such unscrupulous writers] will go on to say, “Our man’s learning is not inferior to Mr. So and So’s” and “Our man’s work is superior to Mr. So and So’s.” This is why the cultivated person hates those things that seem to be but are not.

  Kongzi is the only one who has won the trust of ten thousand ages. [Now] Kongzi’s teachings are not restricted to a single principle; different worthies each grasp whatever it is that they themselves are good at and undistinguished individuals will each be led to misunderstand [his teachings] by something that seems to be [but is not]. [For example,] “to teach people tirelessly”32 is not “to implore the ignorant to the point of being annoying.” 33 “To desire not to speak”34 is not to “cut off learning.”35 “To love the ancients and be quick to seek out knowledge about them”36 is not “to work at being broad of learning.”37 “To unify all with a single thread”38 is not “to abandon [actual] things and affairs.”39 As I see it, to encompass everything in a single teaching that leaves nothing out is something that even a sage like Kongzi was incapable of doing. To [work to] grasp a single teaching or not to search for truth but only for what seems to be—this is what differentiates the worthy from the undistinguished individual.

  In what respect did Kongzi have no equal? [Consider] Mengzi, who was skilled in the study of Kongzi’s [thought]. Kongzi talked about “benevolence”
(ren) and “wisdom” (zhi), while Mengzi talked about “benevolence” (ren) and “right” (γi).40 Kongzi worked to create a [new] Zhou in the East, while Mengzi worked to enlighten the kings of Qi and Liang.41 Kongzi “had faith in and loved the ancients,” whereas Mengzi said, “Better to be without the Book of History than to have complete faith in it.”42 And yet those who seek [to understand] Kongzi must begin with [the study of] Mengzi. And so, one who grasps the truth does not study what seems to be. One who seeks to grasp [only] what seems to be necessarily will reject as false what is true. And yet, those who are led astray by what seem to be all say, “I have grasped the truth!”

  PART III

  Letters

  LETTER 1

  Letter on Learning to Zhu Canmei of the Grand Secretariat1

  In your kind letter you deign to raise so many questions; surely this is a case where “one’s affection causes one to overlook the unseemliness.” I reviewed your letter several times, which only increased my apprehension and anxiety

  You have inherited the wisdom of your father and your natural talent is twice that of most men. While still a youth, you already had several works to your credit. Your style of writing—both prose and poetry—has grown elegant and luxuriant, far surpassing your peers. In your discussions of literature, you have achieved things that even venerable scholars have not attained. Your natural gifts are truly exceptional! Nevertheless, you are not ashamed to humble yourself and learn from others and so you have earnestly consulted those who have gone before you. Firmly rooted in the classics and histories, you have sought out the underlying principles and details as well as the sources and influences within these disciplines. This shows that you have set your heart on the immortal truths of the ancients. My learning is quite shallow, and I fear that I am lacking in integrity. How could I dare to blunder ahead and set forth my views on the principles of learning? Perhaps, though, it would be permissible for me to present roughly the course of my own learning so that you can choose from it whatever you deem worthwhile.