Written in 1585 in Macheng to Deng Lincai 鄧林材 (juren 1561), this letter1 responds to Deng’s advocacy of the Cheng-Zhu School of Principle. Li’s focus on the corporeal, the material, and ever-changing daily bodily needs contrasts markedly with views of Cheng-Zhu neo-Confucians, who judged valuable only that which represented an immutable principle (li 理). For example, Cheng Yi (1033–1107), of that school, is known for remarking, “Starving to death is a small matter; losing one’s chastity is a great matter.” While at odds in their philosophical views, Deng and Li were close friends. In 1564 while Li was away and his wife and daughters were in the midst of a famine, Deng gave them money, keeping at least Li’s wife and one daughter from starvation (see “A Sketch of Zhuowu: Written in Yunnan,” pp. 75–83). (PCL)
Wearing clothes and eating food constitute “human relations” [renlun 人倫]2 and the “principle of things” [wuli 物理].3 There is nothing more to human relations and the principle of things than dressing and eating. In this world, everything is in the category of wearing clothes and eating food; if one speaks of wearing clothes and eating food, then without doubt one speaks of the various things in this world. Matters apart from wearing clothes and eating food are utterly severed from this world and separate from the lives of ordinary people. Scholars ought only to recognize the True Emptiness [zhen kong 真空]4 in human relations and the principle of things; they should not be creating distinctions within human relations and the principle of things. Therefore it is said [Mencius 4B19], “Shun had insight into the multitude of things; he scrutinized human relations.” If one applies one’s insight and scrutiny to the subjects of human relations and the principle of things, then one will be able to grasp what is fundamental and recognize the real source of all things. But if instead one spends all one’s time bickering over speculations, in the end one will never reach the day of attaining one’s own understanding.5 Here then is the difference between focusing on “isolated details” and concentrating on work that is “easy and simple.”6 If by insight and scrutiny one perceives True Emptiness, one will naturally “act in accord with benevolence and righteousness.”7 If one does not use one’s own insight and scrutinize the matter for oneself, one may outwardly appear to “walk the path of benevolence and righteousness” but in fact will have unwittingly entered into the search for “isolated details.” How can we afford not to be cautious?
Yesterday I replied to you in regard to your composition “True Emptiness,” a work consisting of sixteen characters. I have already thoroughly expressed my opinions. But now I’d like to add some comments and explanations because you requested that I correct your piece. How is that?
The phrase “emptiness cannot be emptied”8 refers to the nature of Ultimate Emptiness; no human being can empty that. If people could empty it, it would not deserve to be called Ultimate Emptiness. How bizarre, then, that you wish scholars to regard “seeing one’s own nature” [jianxing 見性]9 as the ultimate task. The phrase “what can never be emptied” refers to the fact that for every ounce of human effort one expends, one correspondingly obstructs a fraction of True Emptiness. And each obstruction of True Emptiness is like a polluting speck of dust. This speck of dust is like the fetters that bind one for a thousand kalpas. Never will one be free of it. Isn’t there good reason to be fearful?
This broad and level path in this world—thousands of people together have followed it; tens of thousands together have stepped upon it. I am on this path; you, my friend, are as well. Everyone far and near is altogether here. If you continue to create distinctions in this world, wouldn’t it be better for you to return to the quotidian considerations of ordinary people? Please, I hope you will ponder this!
I am old. I have written this letter in haste and it really does not adequately convey my thoughts. If you have your heart set on learning the principles of the “easy and simple” and do not wish to have spent this incarnation in vain, then I will gladly guide and correct you, even if doing so drives me to vomit up blood and spew bile. But if you persist in holding on to your contrary views and do not give thought to matters of life and death, then I beg you not to trouble yourself by offering me your “teachings”!
TRANSLATED BY PAULINE C. LEE
Written in 1588 in Macheng.1 Yang Dingjian was a Buddhist monk from Macheng and a devoted and favored student of Li Zhi’s who, along with others, likely worked with Li Zhi on the so-called Li Zhuowu edition of the novel Outlaws of the Marsh (Shuihu zhuan 水滸傳). Yang also played a significant role in 1600: when mobs at the Cloister of the Flourishing Buddha were hounding Li Zhi, it was Yang who helped him escape to Beijing. For this Yang was arrested. (PCL)
This situation is truly not acceptable.2 In this world judgments of right and wrong are countless. When people exist in a world ceaselessly debating right and wrong, how can they avoid taking sides? Take the desire to make judgments about right and wrong and add inclinations such as to ingratiate oneself to those in power, or to distance oneself from blame; you then have the general state of the petty man. This situation is not especially unusual. I don’t know how many of the ancients shared their most genuine feelings with others, only to find in the end that they had fallen into a trap of their own making. The only thing to do is to have a good laugh and carry on as if nothing had happened.
Now that person3 spoke of right and wrong, and I responded and talked of right and wrong with him. We talked without stopping and our conversation developed into a contentious debate. Those who overheard us at first were not annoyed by our discussion on right and wrong. Rather, they grew weary of this heated disputation on right and wrong. The situation was clear, but buried in the midst of it we were simply unable to see it clearly.
On the one hand, I detest it when others speak of right and wrong. And yet I myself discuss right and wrong. This endless talking leads to conflict. And the endless conflicts cause me to lose my voice. Still I cry out, on and on, until my adversary becomes my enemy. Losing my voice harms my vital energy. Continuing to talk injures my body. Making enemies leads me to lose friends and family. How truly disadvantageous! In this world we live in, we do not even know how to seek one small bit of advantage for ourselves. How ever can we attain wisdom?
What’s more, I abide by loyalty and righteousness when I interact with others; this is already unwise. But then, I upbraid others for turning their backs on loyalty and righteousness; this is deficiency of wisdom upon deficiency of wisdom, and foolishness followed by foolishness. If even those with only the scantiest understanding of how to care for the self do not behave in this manner, then for what reason do I act this way? If those with scanty understanding of what is advantageous to themselves laugh at me, shall I just sit here and allow them to ridicule me? I am constantly in this sort of situation, but when from time to time I reflect on matters and am again the master of myself, I am reluctant to allow others to take advantage of me.
You absolutely must laugh off this situation. Then you will immediately attain peace and feel settled, your spirits will be renewed, and your heart will return to its original state of openness. And anyway, whether they’re studying or writing examination essays, it’s only after a night of restful sleep that people are really able to show what they are capable of. If you have been losing sleep over these rumors, that is something worth sighing and feeling shame over! And the fact that people are creating a scandal and spreading rumors is not worth a sigh or a blush.
TRANSLATED BY PAULINE C. LEE
Li Zhi wrote this letter1 to Zhuang Chunfu, his son-in-law, in 1589, while in Macheng, after receiving news from Zhuang’s cousin Rizai 日在 that Li’s wife had been buried. Li’s wife, née Huang, died in 1588 in her hometown of Quanzhou. Li, at that time in Macheng, did not travel back to bury her. In this letter we see Li expressing deep sorrow at his wife’s death and appealing to Buddhist ideas of rebirth and karma. The situation also gives him an opportunity to condemn the hypocritical “gentlemen of the Way,” whom Li compares unfavorably to his wife. (PCL)
Rizai came and told me that her burial has been completed. That is gratifying! Yes, that is gratifying! Our human lives are short—one generation, and it is over.2 She and I lived together for over forty years; our lives were deeply intertwined. Just as we found it difficult to leave Bingzhou, having sojourned there for many years, so too do I now find it hard to be suddenly severed from her.3 In relations between husband and wife, loving-kindness is especially profound. The relationship is not limited to the intimacies of pillow and mat; there are also conjugal advantages that derive from toil, and from economic and bodily sacrifice. Always as respectful as a guest, as sincere as a true wife,4 filial to her parents, warm and loving with her siblings, loyal to her superiors, and genuine with her friends, always sacrificing herself to benefit others, she surpassed those today who are admired as students of the Way. They possess a good reputation but lack any substance. So now that I must bid her farewell, I find it especially hard to be severed from her.
Why?
Along with her expression of loving friendship for me, she also demonstrated proper feminine comportment, engaged diligently in feminine work, exhibited appropriate feminine speech, and possessed feminine virtue,5 which, combined, make one long for her even more: such was your mother-in-law Madame Huang. Only in intellectual matters did she not see eye to eye with me, and this is to be regretted. In every other respect, she surpassed the people of today. Even if I had a heart of stone or iron, how could I fail to be moved? How sad that we were separated from each other when on the verge of old age6 and so were never able to bid a final farewell to one another. It is too much! Too much!
Since I learned of her death, she has appeared in my dreams every night. But in my dreams I do not know that she has died. Has she truly passed away? Or is it that I long for her, and so her soul naturally beckons to me? I recall that throughout her life she was cautious and did not easily enter a Buddhist monastery. What harm would there have been in entering a monastery? I assume she was not yet free from attachments. But once there is nothing more than soul and spirit, what is male and what is female? What is far and what is near? What are restraints and what are barriers? If we go on living as if restraints and barriers exist, then we will never even begin to free ourselves. Since spirit and soul subsist, we know that the self does not die and naturally no restraints or hindrances cling to us. Does it make sense for us to bind ourselves with our own restraints and hindrances? Once there are no restraints or barriers anymore, we find ourselves in the Western Pure Land, a world of bliss; and indeed there is no other Western Paradise but this.7
Chunfu, you can burn this letter and share it with the spirit of your mother-in-law so that she may know my intentions.
Do not seek the pleasures of being reborn. As soon as one is born into this world, the dusk of yet another world awaits. Do not covet the material goods of this world. As soon as one is born into the heavenly realm, one will receive sustenance and immediately forget all memories of one’s previous incarnation. All rewards will be granted, karmic retribution will be fully expressed, and one will continue around the wheel of samsara reborn in the six realms of reincarnation. There will never be a time when one has exhausted one’s karma [and thus attained nirvana].
In her daily life your mother-in-law comported herself as if she were in the Western Pure Land. There is no question but that she has been reborn there.
Remember my words and do not forget a single one. Even though you are now in the Pure Land, you must not forget these words for even a moment. Once I too have passed away, you will come and greet me, and we can then rely on each other and make no more mistakes.
Perhaps for the time being you can store her ashes in a hall where the name of the Buddha is recited. That would be especially wonderful. And it would be good if my lifelong companion, whom I have cherished, respected, and depended on throughout my entire life, could wait for me there. Above all, let her not seek to be reborn and live a new human life.
Chunfu, whatever you do please burn incense and paper money and earnestly recite this letter over and over several times. Repeat it to her soul until she understands the meaning of my words. Then she herself will be able to know my thoughts.
TRANSLATED BY PAULINE C. LEE
This letter,1 written in 1591 to his friend Liu Dongxing 劉東星 (1538–1601) during Li’s stay in Wuchang, contends that contemporary Confucians who desire to make a name for themselves or provide materially for their posterity are no better in the grand scheme of things than those who seek merely to fill their own bellies. Using transformations of scale reminiscent of Buddhist and Daoist thought along with gritty metaphors of food and drink inspired by the philosophy of Wang Yangming and his followers in the Taizhou school, Li highlights the unreliability of human perception and the ultimate vacuousness of all aspects of material life. The essay concludes paradoxically: that reputation has eclipsed substance, Li Zhi suggests, represents a departure from ancient values. But even in the time of Confucius, Li acknowledges, scarcely anyone was talented or insightful enough to fathom the teachings of the Sage. Implicit in these assertions is the arrogant claim that Li himself possesses such rare insight. (RHS)
It’s like hunger and thirst. When hungry, of course a person will think of food; when thirsty, he will certainly yearn for drink. Has there ever been a person in this world who did not care for food and drink? If some people do not think about these matters, there is a reason: eating indiscriminately is their disease. Now when we consider all the sentient beings in our world, are any of them exempt from eating indiscriminately? But what is “eating indiscriminately”? People are shortsighted and their desires are pressing; they see only what affects their bodies and fail to see anything beyond their bodies. They project their desires a few dozen generations into the future, but as for what will happen several thousands of millions of generations from now, their desires do not extend that far.
Wealth and honor are what motivate the innumerable sentient beings in our world to serve their bodily needs. Since these things pertain to the body itself, it is appropriate that people regard them as matters of pressing concern. They devote their entire lives to striving for these things and labor with their hearts and minds until the end of their days to satisfy their hunger and thirst.2 They spend their whole lives in pursuit of the food and drink they will consume in a lifetime. But people who are constitutionally greedy laugh at them and say, “How could this be enough? A man must establish for his sons and grandsons a foundation that cannot be uprooted. How can you fail to provide for them after your death?”
So people attempt to control the future; they seek to erect grave sites in elevated places and build homes in protected places, their strategy being to protect their descendants’ good fortune by acquiring auspicious pieces of land. This might guarantee food and drink for ten or twenty generations. But avidity for food and drink, extended over so many generations, can satisfy the hunger and thirst of only those generations. Whether these people accumulate merit secretly or claim credit for their charitable deeds openly, they act with extreme meticulousness and care and take pains to ensure that their good deeds will extend to every corner of society. But all their endeavors stem from their craving for an endless supply of rice and tea to bequeath to their descendants.
A principled man, in turn, would laugh at these people and say, “How long could that last? How could it ever be enough? What about the things beyond our bodies? Exhausting the heart and mind to serve the body is not something a wise man would do, let alone exhausting the body in slaving away for one’s sons and grandsons!3 A man is born into the world in order to establish for himself a reputation that will not decay.”4 This type of person regards his reputation as food. And since his reputation feeds him, he hungers and thirsts for it and wears himself out trying to obtain it. But he forgets that although his reputation may last for a long time, it too will end when heaven and earth do. If heaven and earth have an end, his reputation too will have an end. How could it be eternal?
But then, those who have attained enlightenment laugh at men of principle and say, “Which is more precious, one’s reputation or one’s body? It is foolish enough to subordinate one’s heart and mind to serving one’s body, to say nothing of laboring one’s mind to seek a reputation beyond one’s body!” Obviously, one’s reputation is no more precious than one’s body. So why do people still say, “I fear that I will die without having left behind a name”?5
The malady afflicting the masses is fondness for profit. The malady afflicting men of principle is fondness for good reputation; if you don’t use reputation to seduce them, your words will not penetrate their hearts. So the only way to teach them is to lead them gradually, to direct them back to reality. Once they’ve returned to reality, they will understand that a name is of no consequence. That’s why it’s said that the Master was “skilled at seduction.”6 But his pupil Yan Hui died, and that put an end to those who could truly understand the Master’s skill at seduction. Thus, when Yan Hui died, the Master’s method of seduction died along with him.
Alas! In the whole world, among all sentient beings, there are only shortsighted people with pressing desires; their appetites go no further than that. Are there any who have attained enlightenment? How difficult it is to make people long for what Confucius and Yan Hui ate and drank! I say that even if Confucius were to reappear on earth a thousand years from now and use his skill at seduction on such people, he would find it impossible to alter their appetites to make them correspond to what I eat and drink. So all I can do is just eat and drink alone, and sing and dance by myself. Especially since I have made my life “outside the bounds,” fled the world and left the crowd behind,7 and dare to jabber on noisily and without restraint, even to the point of violating conventions that are useless or downright harmful.8
But people today who take themselves for Confucius and want to seduce others and make followers of them are just absurd. Why? Because even Confucius had no success beyond Yan Hui. Is there anyone in the world who craves the same food as Confucius and Yan Hui, and would he eat and drink with me? I fear that even if I loaded up an entire tray with delicacies from the mountains and the sea—treats as rare as the marrow of dragons and phoenixes—and even if I knelt and presented this platter, it would be greeted with only anger, ridicule, and rejection. Even if occasionally hypocrites and flatterers lifted their chopsticks slightly, the sound of vomiting would immediately ensue. Why? Because these things are not what people eat and drink. So it would not be appropriate for me to call people over and seek to share these foods with them.
Having been born after the days of Confucius, I find scholarly discussions of no benefit whatever. Even if I had not aspired to shave off my hair and leave my family to become a monk, or to seek hermits and transcendents as my companions, I would have been compelled to do so. So is there anyone at all with whom I, born in this era, may eat and drink? No, there is truly no one at all fit to eat and drink with me.
TRANSLATED BY RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ
In this letter1 written from Wuchang in 1592, Li Zhi addresses his friend the influential literary critic Yuan Zongdao. While convalescing from a severe illness, Li ruminates on Buddhist themes such as reincarnation, suffering, and the fallibility of human perception. In the final paragraph, the subject shifts abruptly from philosophical to mundane concerns. The concluding lines provide insight into Li’s habit of editing and commenting on the books he read and allow us to glimpse the interactive reading culture of the late Ming. (RHS)
This autumn I had a bad case of dysentery that very nearly incapacitated me. From this I learned that having a body means suffering. This is why the Buddha Śākyamuni and the lofty immortals diligently studied the Way. Even though Śākyamuni possessed a hundred kinds of wealth and honor and could have ascended the throne of the Wheel-Turning Emperor, [he regarded such things as] unworthy of even a single contemptuous glance.2 Instead, he considered the great calamities associated with this body that undergoes reincarnation; even a Wheel-Turning Emperor would be unable to avoid them. For this reason, he endured extreme bitterness and labored to the utmost, seeking enlightenment. Were it not for this reason, wouldn’t Śākyamuni have been extremely stupid and inept to have given up wealth and easy living, renounced governmental rank, dwelt on snowcapped mountains for twenty years wearing thin clothing and eating nothing but coarse grain, and sat and allowed birds to nest in his hair?! He thought studying the Way would surely bring extremes of wealth and honor such that nothing on earth could compare with them. For this reason, he devoted his whole life to seeking the Way. From the perspective of ordinary people who see only what is directly before their eyes, Śākyamuni’s behavior appears extremely stupid. But the Buddha was not stupid. Today’s scholars are not worthy of discussion. Some of them are highly praised as sincere and earnest, yet all day they frantically scheme to obtain profit and avoid harm. They have departed from the reality of things and cut off their faculties of perception, all in order to safeguard their “great worry of a body.”3 Do they still deserve to be called men of the Way who engage in study?
I have made corrections, excisions, and marginal notes in my copy of The Collection of the Immortal of the Cliff.4 Every time I open it, I am filled with joy. This book would quicken my heart and banish the symptoms of my disease. There is no master copy left. By all means tell Shenyou5 to return my copy to me. In general, I write only to amuse myself, not for other people.
TRANSLATED BY RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ
These essays1 were likely written in 1590 or 1591, after Li Zhi had moved from Huang’an to Macheng. The two monks referred to in the title are Wang Shiben 王世本, whose religious name was Ruowu 若無 (Apparent Emptiness), and Zeng Jiquan 曾繼泉, Li’s student who lived with him at the Cloister of the Flourishing Buddha. The first essay blends Confucian and Buddhist discourse to extol the exemplary filiality of one of the monks. Religious syncretism was a common feature of Wang Yangming’s philosophy and that of his followers in the Taizhou school, Li’s intellectual lineage. The essay provides a lengthy rehearsal of this intellectual genealogy, sketches out the accomplishments of its major contributors, and ends by favorably assessing the monks’ integrity and moral vision.
The second essay focuses on friendship, a theme of great moment in the late Ming, and a favorite subject among Li’s contemporaries, including Matteo Ricci. Using the monks Ruowu and Zeng Jiquan as examples, Li criticizes the commonly held view that interactions with friends and teachers constitute two distinct types of relationships, each defined by its own rituals. By collapsing the categories of teacher and friend, Li demonstrates the identity of these roles and the misleading way in which language differentiates between them.
The third essay touches on Buddhist themes of cleanliness and purity. It begins with Li’s humble admission that the two monks’ purity far surpasses his own. Yet with a sleight of hand characteristic of Li’s writings, the essay concludes by interrogating whether such purity is indeed necessary for attaining enlightenment. (RHS)
大孝
“DA XIAO”
A monk of Huang’an had a loving mother who remained with her former husband’s family as a widow.2 Thinking again and again that he could never repay her, he cut his own flesh and made the blood flow, and with it wrote a statement declaring his intent [to be a perfectly filial son]. Moreover, he swore privately to the Buddha that he would devote his life to pursuing enlightenment in order to repay his mother’s love. He considered that although keeping one’s parents warm in winter and cool in summer is one way of exhibiting filiality,3 it is ultimately a lesser kind of filiality, insufficient for recompensing his mother. Even if he were to force himself to study diligently and achieve success, glory, and praise, that would only dazzle other people’s eyes and ears; it would not enable him to rescue his loving mother from the sea of sorrows. Only by diligently refining his perception and attaining the Way of the Buddha could he come close to repaying her.
Compared with the emphasis that our Sage Confucius placed on repaying his parents, even the great filiality of King Wu and the Duke of Zhou—their ability to take upon themselves and further the aspirations of their parents—seems puny and insignificant.4 Now, as we see, our Sage’s father and mother are revered even to this day, [and from this we can infer that] one cannot make good on one’s obligation to repay one’s mother merely by racking up a few trifling accomplishments. When the monk drew blood to write his [statement of] intent, he aimed, like [those who came before him, to demonstrate filial devotion], but as he did not dare to write down [his further purpose], one can only sigh and lament his unarticulated aspiration. So I have chosen to write his intention out for him and let it be known by all like-minded people.
When I first met him, he was still preparing for the civil service examinations. He had once told me that he was considering shaving off his hair, leaving his family, and becoming a monk. I strongly disapproved. This year when I encountered him, I saw that he had become a bald monk without a single hair on his head! Upon seeing him, I could not contain my surprise, but I realized that his intention had been sincere. For this reason, I did not dare to express myself openly, but I did occasionally hint at how I felt and let him decipher my meaning between the lines. However, he remained resolute. In the end I could not dissuade him. If today he still feels the same way, he must be a true ascetic; could anyone compare to him? So I sigh with emotion because the ancients said all people who study the Way must be heroic, spirited men. Is not this monk precisely such a heroic, spirited man?
Though the students of Wang Yangming filled the world, only Wang Gen5 was exceedingly heroic and spirited. Wang Gen was an illiterate stove worker who didn’t know even a single character. When he heard someone reading aloud, he experienced a sudden awakening. His path took him to Jiangxi province, where he met the executive censor Wang Yangming. He wanted to discuss and debate with him the nature of his enlightenment.6 At that time, the two treated each other as friends. But later Wang Gen realized that he was not Wang Yangming’s equal, so he completed his studies as his disciple. In this way, Wang Gen obtained the opportunity to hear the Dao of the sages; this shows his great integrity and moral fiber.7
After Wang Gen came Xu Boshi 徐波石8 and Yan Shannong 顏山農.9 Yan Shannong wore commoners’ clothes and spoke of the Dao. He possessed the kind of heroic vision that appears only once in a generation. But in the end he fell prey to slander. Xu Boshi, as provincial administration commissioner, mustered troops and supervised an assault, but he died in the southwest. “Clouds follow the dragon; wind follows the tiger; each according to its own kind.”10 This is how it is. Wang Gen was a true hero, so his disciples were heroic too. After Xu Boshi came Zhao Dazhou 趙大洲,11 and after Zhao Dazhou came Deng Huoqu 鄧豁渠.12 After Yan Shannong came Luo Rufang 羅汝芳13 and He Xinyin.14 After He Xinyin came Qian Huaisu 錢懷蘇 and Cheng Houtai 程後台.15 One generation was nobler than the last. They say “the great ocean is not home to dead bodies and the Dragon Gate does not admit those with smashed-in heads.”16 How true! He Xinyin, dressed in commoners’ clothes, stuck out his neck and promoted the Dao, but he died a violent death. Luo Rufang avoided disaster, but only by pure chance. In the end he lost his official position on account of Zhang Juzheng’s 張居正intolerance.17 It seems that heroic men cannot avoid encountering bad luck, but they can make progress along the Dao. Now since this monk has made such progress along the Dao, who could surpass him? This is why I praise him as a man of great filial piety.
“TRUE TEACHERS”
真師
“ZHEN SHI”
When the two monks of Huang’an came here [to Dragon Lake], they often spoke of the importance of teachers and friends. Huailin 懷林 said, “Based on what monks generally say about teachers and friends, I think they are identical.”18 I say that teachers and friends are essentially the same. How could the two be different? But people these days do not realize that friends are precisely teachers. They only call “teacher” those to whom they have bowed four times and from whom they receive assignments. They also do not recognize that teachers are precisely friends. They only call “friend” those with whom they have a close relationship. Now if someone is your friend but you would not bow to him four times or accept assignments from him, then you really can’t interact with him as a friend. And if someone is your teacher but you can’t confide in him your heart’s deepest feelings, then you can’t serve him as a student. The ancients understood the importance of friends’ attachment to one another, so they specially added the word “teacher” to “friend” to show that those who can be considered friends must also be considered teachers. He who cannot be considered a teacher cannot be considered a friend. Basically, this whole discussion can be summed up in the one word “friend.” So when the word “friend” is uttered, the meaning of “teacher” is included within it.
As for these two monks, they are friends to each other and so they are teachers to each other. The older one often feared that the younger one’s emotions might drag him down and that he might find it hard to extricate himself. So he took his younger brother teacher far away to strengthen his true heart and mind.19 The younger brother teacher knew that the older brother teacher truly loved him, so he accompanied the older brother teacher far away and expressed to the Buddha his great aspirations. This shows the way in which he considered the older brother teacher both his friend and his teacher. Is it not an instance of being both teacher and friend?
The younger brother teacher feared that the older brother teacher recognized only one way of attaining the Western Paradise, joining the community of the sangha,20 and that he did not recognize personal enlightenment. For this reason, in the presence of his older brother teacher, the younger brother teacher often spoke of his own teacher’s praise of Deng Huoqu. Understanding the subtle meaning of the younger brother teacher’s words, the older brother teacher came to believe that reciting the name of the Buddha was identical to practicing Zen, but merely reciting the name of the Buddha was not sufficient.21 This is an example of the older brother teacher’s treating the younger brother teacher as a friend and also as a teacher. Is it not an instance of the younger brother teacher’s being both friend and teacher? This is why I say that the two exemplary men can be called true teacher-friends. What would be the point of merely drifting about, associating with the crowd? From such an experience, how could one learn the value of a teacher-friend?
For this reason, I often spoke of Deng Huoqu and traced the source of his ideas to his teacher-friends. The two monks were delighted. Although they had the honor of being descendants of Deng Huoqu, they realized, to their surprise, that they did not know Deng Huoqu’s origins. Having heard my explanation, their minds were opened and they felt as if Grandfather Master Huoqu were right by their side. Since they also got the chance to hear the teachings transmitted by Wang Yangming and Wang Gen, their joy knew no bounds! But, they said, we have not heard where your teacher-friend is.
I said in studying, there is no constant teacher. “What did Confucius not study?”22 This phrase has become a cliché, but it’s nonetheless true. Although I have never bowed four times and accepted assignments from a single teacher, nor have I ever received four bows and officially taken on a friend, I am so different from most people these days, who are constantly bowing four times to others or receiving four bows from others, that we cannot even be mentioned on the same day. I have inquired into this with people who have accepted four bows. These people who have accepted four bows are neither deaf nor mute, yet they told me nothing. I have also inquired widely among people who have bowed four times to others. They too are neither deaf nor mute, but they did not know how to answer me. The definition of teacher does not lie in four bows; that much is clear. But who knows whether in my heart I am constantly bowing four times or even a hundred times? I do not have enough fingers to count the number of times I have bowed, nor would grains of sand at the seashore suffice to reach such a number.23 How could I possibly discuss my teacher-friends with the two monks?
“WASTING WORDS”
失言
“SHI YAN”
When I first met the two monks, I saw that they diligently recited the Buddha’s name.24 So, seeking advice from them, I told them that all my life I’ve loved loftiness and cleanliness.25 Now having spent a long time together with them, I see that since the two monks’ loftiness and cleanliness exceed mine by ten, a hundred, or even a thousand times, I had no business discussing loftiness and cleanliness with them. To speak of loftiness and cleanliness with the dejected and filthy of the world is to match the treatment to the disease. I have observed that people of this generation lack sincere aspirations; they have sunk into dejection and filth. That’s why they say yes when they mean no; their words may be pure, but their actions are tainted. I have yet to encounter a single person who actually exemplifies fondness for loftiness or cleanliness, and yet people say that I am afflicted by an obsession with loftiness and cleanliness. I have meditated on this with intense sorrow.
How could it have been appropriate for me to speak of loftiness and cleanliness with the two monks? To speak of loftiness and cleanliness with a lofty or clean person is like trying to keep a pot from boiling while adding fuel to the fire. And how much the more so when the listener is ten times loftier and cleaner than the speaker. How stupid I was! “Overshooting the target is as bad as not reaching it.”26 Confucius discussed this in detail. To fail to advance on account of one’s dejection and filth is to fall short of the mark. To be excessively fond of loftiness and cleanliness is to overshoot the mark. The Dao admits neither.
The two monks should do the following things: they should recite the Buddha’s name just so, practice self-cultivation just so, and observe the prohibitions just so. By following these rules they may endure and may attain greatness; they may effortlessly ascend the Lotus Platform, experience the True Vehicle firsthand, and achieve Buddhahood. They must be wary of overindulgence. When it is time to recite the name of the Buddha, they should simply recite the name of the Buddha, and when they wish to see the loving mother, they should simply go and see the loving mother. They need not affect emotion, oppose their inner nature, obscure their own hearts, or suppress their aspirations. He who acts from the heart is a true Buddha. That’s why reciting the name of the Buddha is sufficient; one need not be too lofty or clean.
TRANSLATED BY RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ
This letter1 expresses Li Zhi’s views—radical for his time and place—on women. He begins by endorsing his interlocutor’s low opinion of women’s capacity for philosophical thought, citing the Book of Rites in support of the view that “women live within the inner chambers while men wander throughout the world.” But as so often happens in Li Zhi’s works, the citation is the occasion for a reversal of implications: Li concedes that women are shortsighted (duanjian 短見)—though not essentially but merely because their movements are restricted. In traditional China upper-class women were physically contained within the “inner chambers,” rooms in the back of a family home. To Li, this cloistering of women stunts their education and blunts their insight. Women, Li argues, possess the same intellectual, moral, and spiritual capacities as men. They merely lack conditions that would enable these abilities to flourish.
Written soon after Li Zhi had shaved his head and retreated to the Cloister of the Flourishing Buddha, this letter may reflect the correspondence on scholarly topics that Li began at about this time with a number of female pupils, among them the widowed Mei Danran, daughter of Mei Guozhen (1542–1605), patriarch of one of the most affluent and socially esteemed families in Macheng. Li’s relationship with Danran and other female pupils was the pretext invoked to accuse Li of immorality and lewdness, charges that played a part in the burning down of the cloister (1600) and his arrest (1602). Li’s writings explicitly on women are few but influential. See also “Discussion on Husband and Wife” in this volume. (PCL)
Yesterday I had the opportunity to hear your esteemed teaching wherein you proclaimed that women, being shortsighted, are incapable of understanding the Dao. Indeed this is so! Indeed this is so!
Women never cross the threshold of their reserved domain, while men wander freely throughout the world’s four quarters.2 That there exists vision that is shortsighted and vision that is farsighted is self-evident. But what is called shortsightedness comes about when one has not seen anything beyond the inner chambers. In contrast, the farsighted deeply investigate vast and open plains of light. The shortsighted perceive only what happens within a hundred-year span—what will happen in the lifespan of their children and grandchildren or what affects their own bodies. The farsighted see beyond their own physical bodies, transcend the superficial appearances of life and death, and reach into a realm that is immeasurably, incomparably large, larger than can be measured by numbers such as a hundred, a thousand, a million, a billion, or a kalpa. The shortsighted hear only the chatter in the streets, the viewpoints of those in the alleys, and the talk of children in the marketplace. The farsighted are able to hold great men in deep awe; they dare not disrespect the words of the sages, and, moreover, they are unmoved by the dislikes and prejudices that come from the mouths of commoners.3
I humbly propose that those who desire to discourse on shortsightedness and farsightedness should do as I have done. One must not stop at the observation that women’s vision is shortsighted. To say that male and female people exist is acceptable. But to say that male and female vision exist—how can that be acceptable? To say that shortsightedness and farsightedness exist is acceptable. But to say that a man’s vision is entirely farsighted and a woman’s vision is wholly shortsighted, once again, how can that be acceptable?
Suppose there exists a person with a woman’s body and a man’s vision. Suppose she delights in hearing upright discourse and knows that uncultivated speech is not worth listening to; she delights in learning about the transcendent and understands that the ephemeral world is not worth becoming attached to. If men of today were to meet with such a woman, I fear that they would all feel shame and remorse, sweat profusely, and be unable to utter a single syllable. It may have been in hopes of encountering such a person that the Sage Confucius wandered the world, desiring to meet her just once but unable to find her; and for such a person to be dismissed as a “shortsighted creature,” isn’t this unjust? However, why should such a person care about our treating her justly or unjustly? I suppose the disinterested observer would find the question ridiculous.
From our present perspective we can observe the following: Yi Jiang, a woman, “filled in the ranks” alongside King Wu’s nine ministers. Nothing hindered her counting as one of the “ten able ministers” alongside Zhou, Shao, and Taigong.4 King Wen’s mother, a sagely woman, rectified the customs of the southern regions.5 Nothing prevented her from being praised along with San Yisheng and Tai Dian as one of the “four friends” who helped King Wu in his difficulties.6 These limited, mundane actions responded to the needs of the time: the concern of Kings Wu and Wen was no more than to establish one era of peace, and yet they dared not link shortsightedness with women and farsightedness with men. Those who study the transcendent Dao and desire to be like Śākyamuni and Confucius—people who, having heard the Dao in the morning, could die contentedly in the evening7—have even less reason to draw this distinction.
If a small-minded man in the street were to hear about women of their kind, he would scold them violently for having dared to peek out of their inner chambers, and in the name of “favoring the purity of women,” consider King Wen’s mother and Yi Jiang to be criminals.8 Isn’t this unjust in the extreme? Rather, gentlemen who credit themselves with farsightedness should neither behave in such a way as to incite the ridicule of their betters nor strive to gain the approval or affection of small-minded men of the marketplace. If one desires to be admired by small-minded men of the marketplace, then one is just another such small-minded creature. Is this farsightedness, or is this shortsightedness? One needs to decide this for oneself. I say that a farsighted woman who can rectify human relations and serve as a propitious example of excellence is the sort of person who is born only once in several hundred years and comes as the result of accumulated virtue.
There once was a woman named Xue Tao who came from the city of Chang’an.9 Yuan Zhen10 heard about her and requested a posting in Sichuan so that he could meet her. Before Yuan Zhen’s departure, Tao wrote a poem, “In Praise of Four Friends,” to reciprocate his good intentions.11 Yuan Zhen acknowledged her as his superior by far. Yuan Zhen was an outstanding poet in his day. Was it easy for him to acknowledge anyone as his superior? Ah! A literary talent such as Tao’s can attract the admiration of people a thousand miles away. What if there were a woman wandering through this world with an understanding achieved by studying the Buddha’s teachings? If one were to meet a woman who transcended this material world, could anyone possibly refuse to admire her greatly? But there has never been such a thing, you say. Have you not heard the story of Layman Pang?12
Layman Pang came from the city of Hengyang in the Chu region. He and his wife, Mother Pang, and their daughter, Ling Zhao, revered the Chan master Mazu13 and made him their teacher. They sought to transcend the material world, and one day they escaped the cycle of rebirth. By putting aside the things of this world, they gave inspiration for all humanity. I hope, sir, that this man’s story can stand as an example of what it is to be a farsighted person. If you tell me, “I must wait to discuss this issue with the likes of a small-minded person from the marketplace,” then I am at a loss for words.
TRANSLATED BY PAULINE C. LEE, RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ, AND HAUN SAUSSY
The letter was a favorite genre for late-Ming authors. As the recipients are usually named, we can use them—as their contemporaries did—to follow the philosophical friendships and disputes of the famous. The collected exchanges of Li Zhi and Geng Dingxiang 耿定向 (1524–1596) are typical of the late-Ming fashion of including letters to named correspondents in their published works. The Collected Writings of Mr. Geng Tiantai 耿天台先生文集 (Geng Tiantai xiansheng wenji), published posthumously in 1598, includes seven letters addressed to Li Zhi, while A Book to Burn, which Li published eight years earlier, includes eight to Geng, with a fragmentary ninth in his posthumous Another Book to Burn. These letters are not direct transcripts of originals. The conventional salutations at the start and end have been omitted for publication, but beyond that, most read as either truncated or composite texts. This is particularly so with regard to Li’s fifth letter, by far his longest, the first half of which I have broken up into four separate letters (5A, 5B, 5C, and 5D) on the basis of what appear to be responses in four separate letters from Geng (note that the second half of this long composite text remains untranslated). The letters are undated, so I have estimated dates in order to reconstruct the sequence and chronology of their correspondence. The numbers in brackets give their position in the sequence in which they were originally published. [TB].
“REPLY TO CENSOR GENG” [LETTER 8]
復耿中丞
“FU GENG ZHONGCHENG”
Though the space within the four seas is great, finding a friend is difficult: great men are not numerous.1 Those who love learning are even more rare. If one goes in search of someone who can pass on learning, the onus is on [the searcher] to get hold of what he has learned as though it were “within himself,”2 so zealously that “he can experience disapproval without trouble of mind,”3 and “who feels no discomposure though others may take no note of him.”4 Your younger brother Dingli certainly embodied those merits, but now sadly he is dead. I have made friends in all four directions5 and had hoped to live and die in the hands of my friends but now cannot. Once I had met Dingli, I told myself that I could die without regret, but contrary to my expectation, he preceded me in death. Having written these words, how troubled I feel.
You have innocently pledged yourself to adhere to Heaven’s ethics. [Your brother’s death] has wounded you deeply, and I can understand that [your sorrow is so great that] you are unable to speak of it. Moreover, without seeking afar you have been able to gather like-minded friends [like your younger brother] inside your home. How could your cry of “[Heaven is] cutting me off” be empty?6 Several times I have wanted to send you a letter offering my condolences, but my emotions were in turmoil and my mind could not calm itself. How could I dare present you with commonplace prose? Today at last I am ready. I bear in mind that the task of seeking after learning is not something that a person of “tiny capacity”7 is able to attain. The ancients had a clear understanding that such learning is great learning, and such a man, a great man. How could an ordinary person understand a great man? In the time of Laozi, the only person who recognized him was Confucius himself. In the time of Confucius, the only person who recognized him was the one man, Yan Hui.8 It is difficult to find a bosom friend. Was there anyone who knew Dingli while he was alive as well as I did?
Alas, I can’t speak of this. Having come a thousand li for you and your brother, I am saddened by the knowledge that you are back at court. Being now so isolated, who will mold me? To study and not to seek friends, rather than seeking friends and not devoting oneself to finding someone greater than oneself, is unbearable. You may call willingly submitting yourself to service to the realm an expression of your love of learning, but I don’t believe it. You wish to become something of great use, to be a great man, all the while calling this great learning, but is this something you can achieve?
GENG TO LI [1]
Your letter inquired whether or not in my daily activities I was really able to avoid sticking to the model of the ancients and relying on principles based on what I have seen and heard from others.9 I venture to say that the ancients had a model that altered with the age and changed in accordance with the times; and they had a model that over the thousands of years from the birth of humankind up to the present could not be changed. That is, they had principles relating to names and forms that were derived from what they saw and heard, and they had principles on which their own minds obliged them to act. This model, unchangeable over thousands of years, consists of the so-called regulations of Heaven and rules of the mind, which the ancients originally brought forth from the principles on which their minds felt obliged to act. This is not only what we are required to imitate but also what we cannot but imitate, what we cannot bear not to imitate.
Since the beginning of creation, all living creatures have been shaped and cast in this model of the ancients. They are born and nourished but perceive nothing of this in their daily activities. Yi Yin delighted in the way of Yao and Shun but was incapable of imitating their model of humble deference. Mencius devotedly learned from Confucius but was incapable of imitating his model of venerating the Zhou dynasty. Why is this? The times were different. That it is painful to be struck or hurt, or miserable to be starved or drowned, is a pattern that has existed for thousands of years. That it is calamitous to be orphaned or rulerless, or sinful to be an unruly subject or an unprincipled son, is also a pattern that has existed for thousands of years. The ancients expended great effort and thought to create a model so that you and I might have adequate shelter and be sufficient in food and clothing, and they instructed us in ethics so that we might avoid being like wild animals. Being without position, Confucius and Mencius wrote tracts so that people would clearly recognize rebellious subjects and unprincipled sons, “extravagant words”10 and extreme actions. Was there anything these sages imitated [outside themselves]? It is said: when a spring silkworm spins its cocoon, it takes its shape from the thing to which it attaches itself. This tells us that the inability to stop itself comes from its basic mind. So how could that which one’s own mind feels obliged to act on really be like the “emotional affinity” that heterodox teachings go on about? “How profound and unceasing are the ordinances of Heaven!”11 Accepting Heaven’s [ordinance] not to stop was the mind of the ancients, such that though they might wish to stop, they could not. Those who don’t act when they should end up stopping in all matters. Those who pursue the practice of silent self-annihilation may be capable of this, but I cannot learn from them.
I suspect that when you peruse these words of mine, you will say that I am proceeding from principles. You have never deigned to comprehend this feeling in my mind of being obliged to act. I am like a mute who eats bitter melon: even he who cannot speak can have something to say. You do not embrace this commitment and are committed to leaving the world. But he who leaves the world also has a model for leaving the world. How can you bend words in this way? Admittedly I am an ignorant man. All I know is that between coming into life and leaving the world, one falls short of his duty by so much and never becomes a model himself. From what I have seen recently, study has become devalued and people’s hearts are sunk into depravity. I dare not presume to measure up to the model of Confucius, yet I carry pessimistic feelings about humankind and the world.
“REPLY TO CENSOR GENG” [1]
答耿中丞
“DA GENG ZHONGCHENG”
Yesterday I received your letter in which you so penetratingly identified my errors of impetuosity and ignorance.12 Extending and broadening the genuineness that comes from following one’s own disposition and then joining with the world to fashion our common concern: only this we can call the Way. Once having desired to promote [the Way] together with this age and these people, one’s success in using it to take control and straighten out what was crooked must be great.
“How can study be without a method?” These words of yours are excellent: you have taken them from Confucius and so deeply believe them that you have adopted this as the principle of your school of learning. What can I possibly say to this? Yet these are Confucius’s words, not ours. When Heaven gives birth to someone, then that person naturally has the functionality of a complete person. He doesn’t need to wait to be made complete by Confucius. If everyone needed to be made complete by Confucius, then wouldn’t that mean that people in the time before there was Confucius ended up unable to attain personhood? Thus, as one who devotedly learned from Confucius, even Mencius got to his own level only by following Confucius.13 I am deeply troubled by the cowardice [of this attitude], and yet you tell me to follow it blindly!
Actually Confucius never told anyone to learn from Confucius. Had Confucius really instructed others to learn from Confucius, then why, when Yan Hui asked about benevolence, did he say, “The practice of benevolence comes from oneself” and not from others?14 Why did he say, “The scholar of ancient times acted for himself”; and also, “The gentleman seeks all from within himself”? Since it comes from oneself, Confucius’s disciples of course didn’t need to ask Confucius about benevolence. And since one acts for oneself, Confucius had no method to pass on to his disciples. His method depended on there being neither self nor other. To be independent of the self, the most important thing to learn is to control the self. To be independent of others, what is most important in teaching is in working with the person being taught.
Let me offer one or two examples by way of explanation. Ran Yong was a man of reverent disposition and careful practice.15 When he asked Confucius about benevolence, Confucius pointed directly to him and said that it is nothing but reverence and generosity. Ran Yong was smart. Realizing Confucius’s meaning, he requested to go into service. Sima Geng was under constant anxiety on account of his brother, which made him careful in word and cautious in deed.16 When he asked about benevolence, Confucius pointed directly to him and said, “He is cautious and slow in his speech.”17 Sima Geng was not so smart. He doubted what he was told and felt that this was insufficient. From this perspective, when did Confucius ever teach others to learn from Confucius? Yet though Confucius never instructed anyone to learn from Confucius, those who claim to learn from Confucius are intent on setting aside their own [interests] and insist that they have to take Confucius as their object of study. Even you must find this really funny!
It is because Confucius never instructed others to learn from him that he was able to attain his purpose. He most certainly did not use himself to teach everyone in the world. For this reason, when the sage occupies the highest position, the ten thousand things find their proper places and everything follows as it should. Thus the people of this world are able to hold to their places permanently. What causes them to lose their places are when violent men trouble them and “benevolent” men harm them. When the people of the world lose their places, “benevolent” men trouble them and fuss over wanting to force them into the zone where they can find their places. Accordingly, they use virtuous conduct and ritual to restrain their minds and administration and punishments to constrain their bodies. Only then do people really begin to lose their places in a big way.
The people and things of the realm are so numerous. If you desire them all to act according to your dogma, then the world would certainly not be able to manage it. Cold can prevent glue from sticking, but it is not enough to prevent people from rushing off to the court or the market. Heat can melt metal, but it is not enough to melt the hearts of competitive people. Why is this? Wealth, honor, and success are means that satisfy the senses we were born with: the tendency of things is such that this is so. For this reason the sage accords with these, and when he accords with them, pacifies them. For this reason, those greedy for wealth he endows with emolument, and those pursuing opportunity he endows with rank; the strong he endows with authority, the capable he assigns suitable posts, and the weak he assigns tasks. The virtuous he honors with ceremonial positions so that all might regard them with respect. The talented he invests with serious responsibilities without close scrutiny of their comings and goings. If everyone pursues what he likes, everyone undertakes what he is good at, and there is not a single person who is without his function, then how easy it would be to put people to work! He might want everyone to engage in deception in order to win his favor, but suppose I have no favor to win? He might want everyone to hide his faults in order to put his own excellence on display, but suppose I have no faults to hide? How difficult then to convince people! Is this not the way of truly illuminating bright virtue for the whole world and bringing everyone to a state of eternal peace? Is this not the method of achieving a state of ease without displaying a single shred of action? If you really think Confucius’s method of learning is amazing, then you could say that Confucius had a method of learning that he instructed people to follow. But if you are one of the people without a method of learning [like me], what need is there for Confucius’s method?
What you deeply believe and earnestly put into practice can be said to be your method of learning, but not everyone is as you are. Whatever you do is of course good, how you put things to use is of course broadly applied, and what you study is of course apt, so of course I respect you, but I don’t have to be just like you. You of course can show concern for me, but you are not necessarily any wiser than me. If this is the case, then when you go this time to the capital, everyone will flatter you on taking office. If you don’t go, you may find that those who agree with you are few and those who differ from you are many, that the wise are few and the ignorant and unrighteous are many, in which case, when will there be peace in the world?
“ANOTHER REPLY TO CENSOR GENG” [2]
又答耿中丞
“YOU DA GENG ZHONGCHENG”
When the mind wants to do something, the ear doesn’t have to hear it spoken by others.18 It’s not that it does not want to hear; it just doesn’t. If it wants not to hear, what is better than not doing it? All you have done is to divide these off from each other.
This world is filled with so many marvelous things. How can one do them all one by one and ever finish? What binds my body to the realm is great. The gentlemen of ancient times lived peaceably at their leisure. It’s not that they could not surpass others, but rather that they lacked the [motivation] even to measure up to them. Then suddenly one day because of the death of a ruler, despite living peaceably at their leisure, they made the conspicuous choice to appear. No matter how many millions there were, no one dared come forward, only such a gentleman. He briefly picks up the threads and puts matters back in order. His work is done and yet the people do not know, and thus he far surpasses others. He is like the legendary swords Dragon Spring and Tai’a: unless you are decapitating a dragon or lopping off its horn, you don’t lightly put them to the test. Trying them out on something small is of no interest; using them for a small task produces nothing special. When the right time comes, then everyone knows.
How can you bear to repeat conventional gossip and marketplace chatter? As he got to know you, Deng Huoqu set high expectations of you. In his relations with others, Huoqu values knowing their minds. If among those within the four seas who know me there was but one who cherished me, that would be enough and I wouldn’t need anyone else. Looking at you today, you really weren’t qualified to be Huoqu’s close friend. Huoqu wanted you to lead each other beyond the corporeal realm, yet you bound him to the corporeal realm. You got argumentative disputing doctrine with Huoqu and regarded that as sufficient to honor your friendship. This is the way you responded to the profound character of your friend, who had high expectations of you. What a great error!
The judgments of ordinary people today are insufficient to affect what Huoqu values: that’s the truth. Yet right from the beginning Huoqu never took the judgments of ordinary people as his own. Had he taken others’ judgments as his own, Huoqu would never have acted as he did. This much is completely clear. Huoqu’s doctrine was based on withdrawing from the world, so in everything he did, he conducted himself flawlessly. Your doctrine is based on being useful to the world, so it is even more apt that you let him hide himself away, shut his gate, and dwell in deep retirement. The actions of the two of you are opposite and yet your intentions complete each other. Why did you not value him on this point? I have touched upon him here because you wrote of him in your letter. Yet our arguing achieves nothing.
“SENT IN REPLY TO SENIOR CENSOR GENG” [6]
寄答耿大中丞
“JIDA GENG DA ZHONGCHENG”
Consider the discourses of two men:19 The one is pleasant to listen to yet cannot necessarily be put entirely into practice, while the other does not strike the ear as pleasantly but can be entirely put into practice. Not only is he able to put it into practice, but the people can also put it into practice. Being able to put something into practice and only thereafter talk about it is what is called carrying out what beforehand has been said. Not being able to put something into practice but to talk about it first can be called “words having no respect to actions.”20 I follow only those whose doctrines I can put into practice. I follow only doctrines that others can put into practice.
To know what one can do oneself, and as well what others can do, is a case of recognizing that what is good for oneself is good for others.21 Thus no one’s self differs from the self of any other, so how could one not abandon his self? To know that others are able to do something and that one is also able to do it is a case of recognizing that what is good for others is good for oneself. Thus no others differ from oneself, so how is there anyone who cannot be followed? This is the doctrine of no others and no self, the accomplishment of “assisting in the nourishing powers [of Heaven and Earth],”22 the purpose of aiding the era and establishing a doctrine, all of which are ultimately because of truly being able to see that what is good for oneself is the same for others. Today, not knowing the doctrine that what is good for oneself is the same for others but being single-minded in pursuing a reputation for setting aside [the interests of] oneself and pursuing [the interests of] others is a case of focusing one’s intention on setting aside one’s own interests. Focusing one’s intention on setting aside one’s own interests amounts to there being a self. Focusing one’s intention on pursuing the interests of others amounts to there being others. Isn’t it worse to not set aside one’s own interests but teach others that you are setting aside your own interests? If you really want to set aside your own interests, then the positions of both men [Zhou and Yang] should be abandoned. Today no one is able to set aside his own interests and pursue others’, so what is this incessant talk about setting aside one’s own interests? Teaching people to set aside their interests when you yourself cannot is the perversion of declaring that you are setting aside your interests and pursing others’. Setting aside his own delight in what was good and only encouraging virtue in others is not what Mencius claimed for the great sage Shun. When someone says he is setting aside his own interests, you have to pause and think about it.
He who truly sets aside his own interests does not view himself as having a self. Not viewing himself as having a self, he has no self whose interests he needs to set aside. Having no interests he needs to set aside is what can be called setting aside one’s own interests. We know this is so by studying previous cases of those who knew themselves.23 He who truly pursues the interests of others does not view others as existing. By not viewing others as existing, there is no one whose interests he needs to pursue. Having no interests he needs to set aside is what can be called setting aside his own interests. We know this is so by studying previous cases of those who knew others. To not know oneself and just talk about setting aside one’s own interests, to not know others and just talk about pursuing the interests of others, it is hardly surprising that people today are miserly and set aside nothing, resolutely resisting the pursuit of anyone else’s interests and instead going on and on about setting aside their own interests and pursuing those of others, for no other reason than to deceive others. Are others really being deceived? This is merely deceiving yourself. Espousing this notion rests precisely on espousing the idea of aiding the age by establishing a doctrine. The idea of aiding the age by establishing a doctrine must be preceded by the duty of being “first informed” and having “first apprehended.”24 The duty of being “first informed” and having “first apprehended” needs to be motivated by the mind that “loves to make ministers of those whom they teach.”25 For this reason, to talk endlessly about aiding the age without ever aiding one moment is equivalent to never having taken on aiding the age as one’s duty. To talk endlessly about establishing a doctrine without ever having taught one person is the same as never having taken on establishing a doctrine as one’s duty. How shameful! Isn’t this the opposite of what is called “being ashamed of saying too much and yet going above and beyond in one’s actions”?26 Isn’t this also the opposite of what Mencius said: “When one differs from other men in not having this sense of shame, what will he have in common with them?”27
He who wishes to aid the age must be like Hai Rui in his sympathizing with the world: only then can he claim truly to aid the age. He who wishes to establish a doctrine must be like Yan Qing in his conduct; only then can he claim truly to establish a doctrine.28 These two gentlemen were successful in aiding the age and establishing a doctrine without once saying that this is what they were doing; even though they did not once say that this is what they were doing, no one failed to acknowledge that they aided the age and established a doctrine. Is it permissible today to lack the accomplishment and yet elevate oneself with that title?
What is called aiding the age and establishing a doctrine is something that anyone who has received counsel and revered instruction can manage even if he is crippled, deaf, or blind. What your younger brother [Dingli] said must be taken to heart. Being able to aid the age and establish a doctrine is nothing more than doing what any deaf, blind, and crippled person can do once he has received counsel and revered instruction. So what is so remarkable about having to take on the burdens of the realm and make them your responsibility? If you don’t believe that a crippled, deaf, or blind person can receive counsel and revere instruction and look elsewhere for a better case of receiving counsel and revering instruction, holding that those who study the way today are entirely devoted to their own interests and advantage and not like this, then you certainly won’t end up with anything that can be called receiving counsel and revering instruction. This is a case of revering instruction and receiving counsel that would be beyond even a sage.
In my view, he who returns to his original mind and cannot stop himself from acting, even if he desires to practice forbearance and nonaction will not be able to do so should something compel him otherwise.29 He who returns to his original mind and cannot rest content, even if he desires to go ahead and act without hesitation will not dare to do so should something restrain him. This is a program that is simple: nothing more than striving not to lose one’s own mind.30 How can you consider this as being fettered to a teaching, as failing to attain to your lofty doctrine?31
“REPLY TO CENSOR GENG ON THE SUBJECT OF MILDNESS” [3]
答耿中丞論淡
“DA GENG ZHONGCHENG LUN DAN”
People of this age talk in broad daylight as though they were asleep, whereas you alone talk as though you were in broad daylight when you are sound asleep: this could be called staying constantly alert.32 Could this be what is meant by saying that Zhou Youshan knows the principle of moral cultivation well but is ignorant of how to practice wiping and polishing? The sages of the past applied themselves to the task of wiping and polishing. What is called “wiping” has to do with scrubbing [ordinary?] consciousness, and what is called “polishing” has to do with cleaning sense perception [from the external?]. If you do not put your consciousness into action or establish your senses [in function right now], you are doing nothing [with wiping and polishing] but talking in your sleep. Even if you have little capacity for making distinctions, that is not mildness. This is not a method for staying constantly alert. Only after never getting to the point of being sated can one speak of mildness. Thus it is said, “The way of the gentleman is, appearing mild, never to become sated.”33 If there be something one covets, then certainly one will become sated and discard it, and that is not mildness. Furthermore, mildness is something that will sate you if you remain mild. Thus [Confucius] said, “I learn without satiety.”34 If one takes not being sated as the goal of learning and devotes oneself to study this to the point of achieving nonsatiety, then one cannot avoid a time of being sated, and that is not mildness; that is not Yu’s achievement of “being discriminating and undivided” in the pursuit of the Way.35 Discriminate and unity is achieved; be undivided and purity is attained; without discrimination there is no unity; without unity there is miscellaneity; and miscellaneity does not breed mildness.
From this can you not see how difficult it is to speak of mildness? This is why the sages of the past devoted their entire lives to the practice of seeking after learning. Lecturing and discussing, energetically carrying out what the mind has understood, to the point of giving no thought to sleeping or eating: this is mildness. Mildness is not something that can be sought after energetically through knowledge, nor is it something that can be grasped by the mind. There are reasons why it cannot be attained. Now gentlemen of this generation who tire of the ordinary invariably delight in the new, while those who disapprove of the different take no pleasure in discussing the strange. Surely someone who can open his eyes should be able to realize that if he doesn’t look for what is normal, then he will find nothing strange, and if there is nothing strange, then he will not seek what is normal. Is there some separate place beyond statecraft that is withdrawal? How could the teaching of withdrawal exist somewhere apart from the business of statecraft? Thus when the accomplished man has attained vast knowledge, a glimpse of Shun yielding his power to Yu would be a sight no more remarkable than the sight of them downing three cups of wine. Eminent indeed were the undertakings of Yao and Shun, but they were no more long-lived than floating clouds in the great void.36 It is for no other reason than taking a broad perspective. Having a broad perspective, the mind is vast; the mind being vast, nothing is lacking; and with nothing lacking, what further is there to covet? If you treat the rumors and common views of everyday life as normal and the rarely heard and fleetingly visible as strange, then strangeness and normality become two separate things, and statecraft and withdrawal, two separate states of mind. If you regard Yao and Shun as being the sort who did not swig from an old jug in Three Family Village, then while you may wish to be mild, can you? And while you may wish to be free of covetousness, will you be able to manage it? This is due to nothing other than taking a narrow perspective.
What I wish is that you give up discussing the merits of wiping and polishing and speak only of the benefits of seeking after learning and taking the great path. Even less do you need to be concerned with the inveterateness of empty opinions and cumulative habits; better just to concentrate your efforts on the natural impulse to engage teachers and friends. Then, if you can achieve what Shao Yong meant when he wrote the lines, “The dark water is mild / The great sound fades away,” you will achieve mildness without even trying to achieve mildness. Isn’t this close to your instruction for being a person, yet you mislead with talk of “being constantly alert”?
“TO MY OLD FRIEND GENG DINGXIANG” [9]
答耿楚侗
“DA GENG CHUTONG”
Someone who can open his eyes should be able to realize that if he doesn’t look for what is normal, then he will find nothing strange.37 When the accomplished man has attained vast knowledge, a glimpse of Shun yielding his power to Yu would be a sight no more remarkable than downing three cups of wine. Eminent indeed were the undertakings of Yao and Shun, but they were no more long-lived than floating clouds in the great void. It is for no other reason than taking a long perspective.
“ANOTHER REPLY TO MY OLD FRIEND GENG DINGXIANG” [7]
復耿侗老書
“FU GENG TONG LAO SHU”
People of this age detest the ordinary and delight in the new and strange, though when speaking of what is newest and strangest in the realm, nothing can outdo the ordinary.38 The sun and the moon are ordinary, and yet from ancient times they constantly renew themselves. Cloth and grain are ordinary, and yet when we’re cold they warm us and when we’re hungry they feed us. How strange is that! The new and strange are precisely within the ordinary. People of this age don’t look closely but instead go off in search of the new and strange outside the ordinary. How can any of it be called new and strange? The Heavenly Maiden of Sichuan is a case in point. The masses all say she is able to know events in the future and the past, so they consider her a marvel equal to the gods. Well, what is past even I can know about—why wait for her to tell me? As for what is yet to come, there is no need to know it, so what is the point of having her expound it? Thus it is said, “The knowledgeable are free from perplexities.”39 Not perplexed by the new and strange, one cannot be troubled by disasters that have yet to come. Thus it is also said, “The benevolent are free from anxiety.” Having no anxiety about the disasters yet to come, one does not seek foreknowledge or become perplexed by the new and strange. Is this not truly being able to see an advantage without hastening toward it, or see a danger without having to avoid it? It is like what Confucius said about “the determined officer never forgetting that his end may be in a ditch or a stream; the brave officer never forgetting that he may lose his head.”40 But who can measure up to that? Thus it is said, “The brave are free from fear.” Only after combining the three virtues of knowledge, benevolence, and bravery can one not be bored by the ordinary or deluded by the new and strange. As for the people of this age wanting to know the future and therefore regarding the Sichuan maiden as strange and also new, how is that something to be marveled at? And why? For reason of ignorance. If ignorant, then malevolent; if malevolent, then cowardly; but really it is knowledge that is prior to benevolence and courage.
“REPLY TO JUSTICE MINISTER GENG” [5A]
答耿司寇
“DA GENG SIKOU”
Your last letter can be called true teaching on the one hand and, on the other, true friendship.41 You wish to instruct me without knowing why, and I wish to receive your instruction without knowing why: these both could be called the genuine impulse of compulsion to act. Things are the way they are without our knowing why.
Alas, the way of friendship has been long disrupted! Once I exaggerated by saying that in ancient times there were rulers and subjects but no friends. Indeed this is not an overstatement! The ruler, like a dragon, has reversed scales under his throat: he who goes against them will surely die. Still, there may be a rapid succession of those who choose to censure their ruler with their deaths. Why is this? The reputation got by censuring with death is something that determined gentlemen willingly gamble for. How much more gladly would they seek such great fortune without having to die for it! A mind set on avoiding harm is no match for a mind set on honor and advantage, and so they harm themselves without a second thought. How much more would they appreciate this great advantage without suffering harm! With friends it is different. Between those who have the fortune of becoming friends there is not the slightest desire for selfish benefit. Those who do not have the fortune of becoming friends will quarrel over minor matters and indulge in feuds over great affairs. Our cherished He Xinyin died because of this sort of situation, yet it is clear to all that his name was not established through dying.42 Therefore, when I said that in ancient times there was no friendship, I should have said that there was no advantage sought. Hence it is clear that disapproving and censuring gentlemen are often seen in the relation between ruler and subject, but I have certainly never heard of them as having friends.
How fortunate that recently I have been able to present myself to you: this I value highly. And how fortunate I am to receive your instruction: for this I have longed. To have returned after all to see this place that is so important to me makes me happy and pleased. But how is it that you alone love to model yourself on Confucius, whereas I have never wished to? Your compulsion to act consists of indiscriminately loving people without addressing them individually. My compulsion to act involves finding people in the course of practicing my Way, and not treating them lightly. I suspect that these are different. Your compulsion to act amounts to the “be filial at home and deferential when abroad” teaching of The Vocation of Younger Brothers and Sons for those who are under fifteen years of age.43 My compulsion to act amounts to adults over the age of fifteen understanding the Great Learning and then seeking to go out and illuminate bright virtue for all people. Your compulsion to act is broad but only marginally addresses pressing problems. My compulsion to act is discriminating, directly receiving the good results of my own enlightenment. Your compulsion to act is like the rain that soaks everything, arriving without being asked; or like the local village schoolmaster who teaches schoolchildren in great numbers and gets few results despite very great efforts. My compulsion to act is like the shock of cold snow: I wait till the price is right before I sell; I am like the general who deploys his soldiers to first of all capture the king, getting great results while using little effort.
Though our methods are different, we have the same basic idea of being compelled to act. If our minds were at one, I could completely forget your theory about compulsion to act as though you had never uttered it. If you say that your compulsion is right and mine is wrong, that yours is the learning of the sages and mine is heterodox learning, then I cannot attest to your knowledge. Your compulsion to act is a case of knowing that you are not permitted to halt, but the true compulsion to act depends on really desiring not to halt. My compulsion to act is a case of not knowing that I am obliged to act. Naturally being obliged to act may not be the compulsion to act of the Sage Confucius, but I cannot attest to his knowledge either.
I fear that in this debate you are afflicted with self-righteousness. You cannot hastily assume that others take delight in this, I fear, yet you go ahead and consider yourself right and hastily claim that others are not. I am also afraid that you cannot hastily assume that your contemporaries must listen to you while “resting in your character without any doubts about yourself.”44 Furthermore, you assume that everyone else is involved in heterodox learning and laugh at them for being conversant in something that is not the orthodox tradition of Confucius and Mencius. I say that if your compulsion to act is in fact the real thing, then the compulsion to act of the people of this age is as well. If their compulsion to act is really not so, then yours also is not. This may be true of mine as well. Please tell me whether I’m right or wrong.
GENG TO LI [4]
You say that my compulsion to act amounts merely to the teaching of “be filial at home and deferential when abroad” in The Vocation of Younger Brothers and Sons, whereas your compulsion to act is the great man illuminating bright virtue for the whole world.45 This is not how I understand it. Take away filial piety and deference, and what virtue is left to illuminate? I suspect that what you call illuminating virtue is watching for the evanescent principle of nonbirth from the vantage point of perfect silent self-annihilation and then saying that is bright. What I call compulsion to act is nothing other than that the minds of sons, subjects, younger brothers, and friends grasp the constant way of living.46 As you know, twenty years ago I wiped the slate clean. As I would phrase it, I broke through that barrier.47 I was then able to ground myself in everyday reality to cultivate [my self] and verify [my knowledge]. Only then was I able to understand Confucius’s remark, “I am not equal to it” or believe that Shun “regarded virtue as the common property of himself and others.”48 You say that the great person has his own bright virtue, but no great man has surpassed Confucius or Shun. You used to quote at length from Confucius and Shun. So why do you perversely turn your back on them now?
“REPLY TO JUSTICE MINISTER GENG” [5B]
答耿司寇
“DA GENG SIKOU”
When I look at what you do, there is little to differentiate you from others.49 Everyone is the same; I am, and you are too. From the time people come to the age of reason, morning to night they plow in order to get food, buy land in order to plant, build houses in order to find shelter, study in order to pass the examinations, hold office in order to win honor and fame, and search for propitious sites in order to provide good fortune for sons and grandsons. The daily round of tasks is done for the benefit of oneself and one’s family, and not a bit for others. Yet whenever you start talking about learning, you say, “You are for yourself alone, whereas I am for others; you are out for your own advantage, whereas I wish to benefit others. I pity my neighbors to the east who may be suffering from hunger; I regret the unbearable cold for my neighbors to the west. Some, like Confucius and Mencius, go out to teach, whereas some will have nothing to do with others: they are the slaves of self-advantage. Some may not be scrupulous in their actions but do good for others; whereas some may be perfectly proper but enjoy using Buddhist dharma to harm others.” When you look at this, you may see that what you say is not necessarily what you do, and what you do is not necessarily what you say. How unlike [the maxim that] “speech should reflect action, action should reflect speech.”50 Is it right to say that this is the teaching of the Sage Confucius? As I think this over, I feel that you are not the equal of peasants in the marketplace talking about what they do. Those who do business say it is business; those who do farmwork say it is farmwork. Their talk really has substance, words that are truly virtuous, so that when others hear them, they forget their cares.
What is this “in speaking think of acting” that Confucius mentioned? He said that he himself was not capable of attaining to all the Ways of son, subject, younger brother, and friend.51 He was not really capable; this was not false modesty. How could anyone born into this world ever exhaust these four even if they were at it all their lives? To say that you are capable is to stop and not advance. The Sage knew that these [ways] were the most difficult to execute and therefore said he was not capable. If when you are not capable you say that you are not, that is “speech that reflects action.” If you say you are not capable and you really are not, that is “action that reflects one’s speech.” Thereby you are reliable, constant, loyal, and honest with yourself: a true sage. Ignorant of what they are not capable of, people today use these four qualities to reprimand and tutor others. Setting heavy demands on others, they take only light responsibilities on themselves. How can anyone believe them?
Sages do not demand of others that they be capable, hence all people can become sages. Accordingly, Wang Yangming said, “The streets are full of sages.” The Buddha said, “Mind is Buddha, all men are Buddhas.” If everyone is a sage, then sages do not distinguish different principles about compulsion to act to display to others. Hence Confucius said, “I wish to do without speaking.”52 Since everyone is a Buddha, there has never been a Buddha who has saved all living creatures. Without the phenomenon of living creatures, how can there be the phenomenon of people? Without the phenomenon of principles, how can there be the phenomenon of self? Without the phenomenon of self, I can discard myself; without the phenomenon of others, I can follow others. This is not forced, because I see myself that everyone is a Buddha, and that my goodness is the same as everyone else’s. If my goodness really is the same, how can there be goodness only in myself? How can there be a good person from whom I cannot learn?
GENG TO LI [5]
“Holding to a course without doubting”: this is merely “assuming the appearance of benevolence.”53 He who assumes the appearance of benevolence does so only from his recollection of what he knows and witnesses: this is not the genuine tradition of benevolence. As Master Cheng said, “In the end, it becomes separated into two [substance and name].” Such a man sets off in the wrong direction and holds to his course without doubting. The tradition of benevolence of Confucius and Mencius is consciously grasped from the position of being unable to stop oneself. Unable to do otherwise than “attend to other people’s words and observe their countenances,” one is “anxious to humble himself to others.”54 Those who are addicted to emptiness and hold on to appearances may see all the way to the ultimate absolute, but in the end they grasp merely the appearance of things. If you are done with just one glance, then where is there any doubt, and how can you bear to “humble yourself before others”? By starting from the true impulse of being obliged to act, once one thinks about being a son, subject, younger brother, or friend, one realizes by how much he falls short of his duty. “Not attaining to it in personal conduct”:55 even Confucius reproached himself on this point. How can you not doubt and not humble yourself before others?
“REPLY TO JUSTICE MINISTER GENG” [5C]
答耿司寇
“DA GENG SIKOU”
If there is no person from whom one cannot take something good, then is there nothing good that I can give and no Way that I can speak of?56 If this is so, then isn’t the story about Zhou Youshan’s not allowing the lecture too distressing? How is it that while opposing Zhou Youshan you insisted that you were making an effort on Youshan’s behalf, and even protecting him? How is it that when Youshan misspoke, you still desired to shelter him? Dispensing your concern in this way is just too trifling! Your writings circulate in large luxury editions, yet you tell others they may not disseminate them. How can you be so contrary? Going over this back and forth, I think that what you give your attention to is really too twisted. Zhou Youshan did not regard himself to be at fault. If he did commit an error, he did not cover it up, yet you on the other hand did. What sort of concern are you really expressing? “The errors of the superior men of old were like eclipses of the sun and moon. All the people witnessed them, and when they had reformed them, all the people looked up to them with their former admiration. But do the superior men of the present day only persist in their errors? They go on to apologize for them likewise.”57 What do you think?
Zhou Liutang conducted his life in plain and quiet dignity and did not busy himself with [learning and government service] and for that reason did not advance far. You alone seem to think that Liutang was boastful, but how so? How is it that you felt so strongly about Liutang and yet did not wish him to advance? Zhou Youshan’s love for Zhou Liutang was in his bones, whereas your love for Liutang was only skin-deep. You may not admit it, but this is well known. Liutang was like an older brother to Youshan. Youshan has other brothers and cousins besides Liutang, yet he lavished all his attention on Liutang. Liutang did not pursue a civil service career, nor is his residence or his land adjoining Youshan’s, so neither of them has anything over which to dispute with each other. Youshan had no reason to destroy Liutang in order to benefit himself; this is well known. Having not a speck of private interest, everything Youshan has said comes from his pure heart. You are certainly intelligent, so how is it that you alone were unclear about this? Even if what Youshan said was wrong, you should have compassion for Liutang and not bring trouble on him. If what Youshan said was right, you should have compassion for Liutang, who strives in daily life to accord with the correct tradition of the Confucian sages. If you are truly motivated by the obligation to act, then you should go to great lengths to point out the right way to Liutang. Liutang knows to respect and trust you; no matter what you say, he will not disagree. Matters being thus, how does this benefit Liutang? Besides, what does Liutang value more than his relationship with you? If that is the case, then Youshan’s comment was a slip of the tongue. He said it merely in order to evade his responsibility as an official. As Liutang’s scholastic achievement is indeed profound and not easy to detect, you should have continued to be pleased with him and would not have been troubled by his indifference to public service. Why is this? Withdrawing from the world and being unknown is not something to regret. Is this the goal of learning? I become a genius because people do not know the things I have learned: that would be pleasing. I become a sage because geniuses do not know the things I have learned: wouldn’t that be even more pleasing? I become a god because the sages do not know the things I have learned: wouldn’t that be more pleasing still?
In the time of Confucius, only Yan Hui understood him. Even though he had disciples like Zigong, they didn’t understand him. This is truly what made him Confucius. So how can you expect Youshan to understand Liutang? And how can you know that he tried to obstruct Liutang, thereby causing Commander Liu Shouyou and his colleagues to disparage us?58 I declare that I am not troubled by our being disparaged by others, for we disparage ourselves. No point trying to protect your name, for when will the protection ever finish? I have heard that Commander Liu is an outstanding man, but what is your purpose in urgently desiring that he lecture? How could your actions exceed in respect to Commander Liu’s? If they can, please lay out these additions for me one by one. If not, can you explain why you wanted him to discuss with me this useless claptrap? I am afraid that I cannot deceive a small child, so how could I mislead a gentleman as outstanding as this?
Wasn’t Confucius’s lecturing just the opposite? Confucius spoke bluntly of one rule for both the wise and the ignorant, without allowing for any adding or taking away. It is said that “the unicorn runs with ordinary beasts and the phoenix flies with ordinary birds” because they are “the same in kind.”59 This is also expressed by the saying “All things and I share one body.” Only Confucius understood learning that stood apart from its kind, so it is interesting to note how Mencius spoke of him.60 Still, when you examine the means by which someone can stand apart from his kind, it is in the aspect of wisdom, which is not something that can be got through strength.61 If you do not approach this from the standpoint of its inaccessibility through effort but only try to get at it by the application of more effort, then you will have already lost the secret that even Confucius and Mencius could not hand down. What sort of thing is this, and how can it be treated so lightly when talking with others?
GENG TO LI [6]
In earlier days Zhao Dazhou said, “I care only that your eyes are bright; I do not place great value on what you do.”62 I on the other hand say: eyes are easy to open, but bones are hard to change. In assessing others, you rely on their eyes, whereas I rely entirely on their bones. In your letter you say, “The unicorn runs with ordinary beasts and the phoenix flies with ordinary birds because they are the same in kind.” The reason why these two creatures are outside the category of birds and beasts is not their feathers, fur, or scales. It is because the unicorn and phoenix do what other animals cannot do, or warble more harmoniously, that they are outside the category of birds and beasts. Although monkeys are grasping, lions and tigers ferocious, and parrots and orangutans endowed with powers of speech, all these animals in the end have the bones of birds and beasts and cannot depart from their category. Looking from this perspective at Confucius and Mencius, we see that in lofty transcendence they are not the equals of Zhuangzi or Liezi, nor in political scheming are they the equals of Su Qin or Zhang Yi, nor in military strength the equals of Sun Wu or Wu Qi.63 Where they do depart from their category is in the tradition of benevolence that obliged them to act. This has penetrated the world to ten thousand generations. Please consider this carefully. Is it so, or is it not?
“REPLY TO JUSTICE MINISTER GENG” [5D]
答耿司寇
“DA GENG SIKOU”
When you hear these words, you will surely think that heterodox thinkers are suitable only as teachers of young children, who might borrow the theme of “illuminating bright virtue” as an essay topic, and that there is no point propagating this doctrine of emptiness and self-annihilation to delude the people.64 Daoist, Buddhist, and Confucian are all just names. Confucius knew that people cared for reputation, so he enticed them with his doctrine of differentiated names [i.e., Confucianism].65 The Buddha knew that people feared death, so he terrified them with dying. Laozi knew that people were eager for life, so he drew them on with longevity. None could avoid setting up names and appearances to change those who came after them. But these were not true reality. Only Yan Hui understood this and therefore said that Confucius was “good at enticing.”66
Am I in my actions so unlike you? You enjoy office and wealth, have a family and home, receive guests and friends, but does that make you better than me? How is it that only you should have learning enough to lecture, that only you are compelled to act? If I am the same as you, then you can forget everything you have ever said about my discarding ethics, leaving my wife and family, shaving my head, and wearing Buddhist robes. What do you think? There has never been anything in which I have not been the same as you, except for your being a high official. How can your learning be superior to mine because of your high office? If it is, then Confucius and Mencius would not have dared open their mouths!
GENG TO LI [7]
Your letter said, “Daoist, Buddhist, and Confucian are all just names.67 Confucius knew that people cared for reputation, so he enticed them with his doctrine of differentiated names. The Buddha knew that people feared death, so he terrified them with dying. Laozi knew that people were eager for life, so he drew them in with longevity. None of them could avoid setting up names and appearances to change those who came after them.” This statement has been true since the most ancient of times. Even if the three sages were to come back to life, they would all nod in agreement. But consider with what mind the three sages used these methods to entice people, and to what end they desired to do so. This is worth thinking about.
“BIDDING FAREWELL TO JUSTICE MINISTER GENG” [4]
與耿司寇告別
“YU GENG SIKOU GAOBIE”
Scholars in your new county are smart, but there are only two or three of advanced learning with whom I am able to speak.68 To be able to speak to someone and yet not speak to him is an instance of losing a friend, but this is entirely my fault. The others were all young men, some as yet unenlightened and some lacking in purpose. As it is said, “Speaking to someone who should not be spoken to is a waste of words.”69 Although this is something of which I do not approve, I would rather waste words than lose a friend. Wasting words may be acceptable, but how can losing friends be? Human talent from ancient times has been rare. When talent is this hard to find, how can one not be distressed at the fortune of finding a talented person and then losing him?
Alas, as Confucius said of Yan Hui, “Now there is not such another. I have not yet heard of anyone who loves to learn as he did.”70 Confucius in his time certainly realized how hard it is to find a friend. How much harder is it today! He searched through his seventy disciples and found no one, so he turned to the crowd of three thousand. Not finding anyone there, he had no choice but to wander in all directions searching. Having looked everywhere without success, he decided to go back, sighing and saying, “Let me return! Let me return! The petty ones of my school are still in need of being shaped.”71 Confucius’s being this distressed over not having friends, we can understand that those “pursuing the due medium” are not easily found.72 An impetuous person does not follow old paths nor tread in old footprints, so he sees and knows much. He is like the phoenix flying at a great height. Who can stop him? So he does not believe that he is of the same category as ordinary birds. Even though he sees from a lofty height, if he is not practical, he will fail to “pursue the due medium.” An uncompromising person “will not commit one act of unrighteousness, or put to death one innocent person.”73 Those like Yi and Qi are unshakable in their conduct. When the tiger is in the mountains, all animals quake with fear, for none dares oppose him, so he does not believe that he and all moving creatures are alike beasts. Even though he is unshakable, if he is not modest, then he cannot attain to “pursuing the due medium.” Hence, [Confucius’s disciple] Zeng Dian was in the end impetuous and impractical, while [another disciple,] Zeng Shen, after believing in the Way, was able to achieve modesty without wavering throughout his life.74 This was the man Confucius found when he returned home. How distressing it would have been to lose this man!
As for those thieves of virtue, though the “sanctimoniously orthodox” passed his gate, he [i.e., Confucius] would not let them enter.75 His rejection of them was deep-seated. How was he nonetheless able to see them as people? Today one has no choice but to take the sanctimoniously orthodox as companions, acting with loyal sincerity for the time being in the hope of bringing them to the Way. It is no surprise that they hate him, for he wastes his words. Still, what does wasting words matter? What is more troubling is the fear of losing people. If one has the tiniest bit of regret over losing someone, then he will carry this sorrow to the end of his life and die without peace. If we talk about admiring virtuous examples or liking good company, then the sanctimoniously orthodox are number one; if we talk about traveling in the Way and receiving the teachings of a thousand sages, then why bother about getting rid of the sanctimoniously orthodox?
You have traveled as an official over half the empire. The two capital cities are reservoirs of people. With all your looking and doing, have you ever found the talented person you seek? Have you sought for him and not found him? Have you even sought for him at all? None of those you have sought and found are impetuous or uncompromising. Had they been so, they would have been rejected for not being reliable, yet has there been any whose honesty matched the purity of Bo Yi? When you look at it like this, there is no way you can avoid the regret of losing someone. Bo Yi and Shu Qi were fed by the Western Earl and could not bear having their lives under King Wu’s rule. When King Wen was the Western Earl, Bo Yi and Shu Qi traveled a thousand li to receive employment and were content to be retainers so as to serve the Shang. When his son King Wu ascended, they would rather starve to death and were unwilling to eat one grain from that earth on the grounds that King Wu had “exchanged cruelty for cruelty.”76
Zeng Yuan said to Zeng Shen, “Your illness is critical. Hopefully at dawn we will change the bamboo mat.” Zeng Shen replied, “The superior person loves others by treating them with virtue; the ordinary person loves others by indulging them. Which would I choose? To achieve correctness and then die. That is all.” Zeng Yuan rose to change his mat, and before he had settled back in his place, he died.77 How is this any different from Bo Yi’s starving himself to death? Can you compare the sanctimoniously orthodox to this? Thus, studying the Way without such people will not lead to achieving the Way, and transmitting the Way without such people will prevent you from expressing the Way. There exist impetuous and uncompromising people who have not heard the Way, but never has there existed anyone who could hear the Way but was not impetuous or uncompromising.
Today as I bid you farewell, I have pondered the questions of the impetuous and the uncompromising, of wasting words and losing people. What I have just written is, I think, all I can do to return my brief thanks to you. My dependents wanted to go home, and I had no choice but to send them.78 Now I will travel in all directions as the ancients did in search of friends. Confucius looked for friends greater than himself to whom he could transmit the Way. Only when one’s knowledge is greater than his teacher’s is transmission possible. People like us seek friends greater than ourselves to verify the Way. This is what is meant by thrice going up to the Monastery of Dong Mountain or visiting the Mountain of Touzi nine times.79
GENG TO LI [2]
In your letter you use the “sanctimoniously orthodox” as evidence [for your position].80 On careful examination, I am not convinced. I said that the model of the sanctimoniously orthodox is largely the same as “pursuing the due medium.”81 If Confucius and Mencius ridiculed these people, it is because they felt that acting in this way was insufficient for entering the way of Yao and Shun. If we give some thought to the way of Yao and Shun, what sort of a way is it? It is simply the tradition of benevolence by which these men felt a compulsion to act. It passed down to Confucius and Mencius, and their model has been visible for thousands of years. The Zen fanatics of this era neither cultivate [themselves] nor verify [their knowledge]. With twinkling eyes and laughing mouths, they declare their method subtle and mysterious. Although I do not understand their model, I have a general idea of it. I recognize that the way of Śākyamuni is certainly difficult to penetrate, yet isn’t forcing it into being also the way of Yao, Shun, Confucius, and Mencius beyond credible? How is it possible for them to digest what they have heard?
In ancient times Zai Wo wanted to shorten the period of mourning. How could he bear to do this, to the point of considering returning to the world and pursuing pleasures? Confucius answered him by saying, “If now you feel at ease, you may do it.”82 This would be to regard the matter only from the point of view of the compulsion to act. Yi Zhi thought to change the world with his way. His perspective was broad and his intentions great, but when he heard Mencius’s statement about “perspiration on their foreheads,” he “was thoughtful.”83 This was because he was thinking over in his mind his compulsion to act. So it is that the model of the ancients is such that it could not be changed even if a sage were to reappear. Current doctrine picks this up as a principle but commonly reduces it to karmic affinity. Doesn’t this block benevolence and righteousness, mislead the age, and deceive the people?
Were I not to open my heart and speak bluntly, that would be a case of “not correcting errors and so not making the Way fully evident.”84 I hope you will think this over.
TRANSLATED BY TIMOTHY BROOK
In 1588, Li Zhi moved to the Cloister of the Flourishing Buddha, shaved off his hair, and adopted the incongruous appearance of a “Confucian monk.”1 Three years later, he traveled with Yuan Hongdao from Dragon Lake to Wuchang to visit the scenic Yellow Crane Pavilion. Immediately upon arrival, however, he was accosted by an angry mob that accused him of “perverting the Dao and misguiding people” and promptly drove him out. This letter, written shortly after this ordeal, is addressed to Li’s loyal companion Yang Dingjian, a monk from the Cloister of the Flourishing Buddha. The text alludes briefly to Li’s decision to don once again the cap worn by members of the civil bureaucracy. Another letter composed in the same year declares his intention to let his hair grow back.2
If Li’s stance on his appearance appeared conciliatory, his rhetoric remained unyielding. The letter blames Geng Dingxiang and his supporters for the attacks Li experienced and threatens that unless their behavior improves, there may be serious repercussions for the Geng family’s reputation as one of the leading lineages in Macheng County.3
By the time this letter was written, the conflict between Geng and Li had been simmering for several years. Friction developed between the two men after the death, in 1584, of Geng Dingli, younger brother of Dingxiang and intimate friend of Li Zhi. At the time of Dingli’s death, Li was residing at the Geng household in Huang’an, and Dingxiang was away serving as vice-censor-in-chief of the Censorate. Unable to supervise his own sons’ education, Geng entrusted this matter to Li Zhi. Yet Dingxiang worried that Li’s peculiar thoughts and actions might lead his children astray. In this letter, Li makes clear that even in 1591 he was still in communication with Geng’s eldest son, Geng Guyu, and, indirectly, with the others as well. (RHS)
People in this world who love me do not love me because I am an official. Nor do they love me because I am a monk. They love me. People in this world who want to kill me do not dare kill an official. Nor do they dare kill a monk. They dare kill me.
If nothing about me is deserving of love, then I am simply an unlovable man. But what’s to stop people from loving me? If it is not acceptable for me to be killed, then surely I ought to receive the protection due a person whom Heaven will not kill. Aren’t those who are trying to kill me taxing themselves unnecessarily?
The reason why I have donned an official cap is not that I am concerned lest people kill a monk. That’s not the reason I’m wearing an official cap.
I recognize Geng Dingxiang as my senior, but he is inclined to believe what he hears. And indeed, for this reason none of the people living in his household wishes that he and I resume our previous relationship. Day and night in Wuchang they even take the lead in spreading groundless rumors about me because their basic wish is to amplify my wrongdoings. They do not realize that in doing so they are actually enhancing my fame!
I fear that the old codger does not understand that from the start he has been misled and exploited by those fellows. You must speedily relate this fact to Guyu and his brothers. Otherwise, should the situation change, Old Geng will be at fault as the prime instigator. And this could have serious implications for the Geng lineage.
As always, it does not do to get too close to people of the lesser sort. I am particularly saddened to see Old Geng so unaware. I am afraid that when he wakes up, though he may gnash his teeth, it may be too late.
When you have finished reading this letter, pass it immediately to Zhou Youshan and copy it to send directly to Guyu and his brothers.
TRANSLATED BY RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ
Writing in Macheng in 1588 at the height of his literary career, Li Zhi begins this convoluted letter1 by quoting in detail a letter written by his nemesis, Geng Dingxiang. Geng’s letter, not originally intended for Li’s eyes, accuses Li of imitating the wild antics of the philosopher Yan Shannong (1504–1596), an influential member of the Taizhou branch of Wang Yangming’s School of the Heart-Mind. Yan reputedly scandalized contemporaries when he started turning somersaults during an academic study session. Geng’s letter likens Li’s scandalous relationships with actors, prostitutes, and widows to Yan’s putatively Zen-like and inappropriate behavior. Such insinuations foreshadow the accusations made against Li Zhi in Zhang Wenda’s memorial to the throne (see pp. 334–37). Li replies with what we would call a public letter, not specifically directed to Zhou Liutang but defending his own reputation against all comers.
Among the salient themes in the letter is Li’s contention that individuals of great insight can and should express themselves in unconventional ways, since doing so is often a mark of profound understanding. (RHS)
Our old friend Geng wrote a letter to Zhou2 saying, “You once mentioned that Zhuowu consorts with prostitutes. That letter is still in my possession. But a little later you asserted that I did not catch the meaning of Zhuowu’s Zen tricks. Once Yan Shannong suddenly rose from his seat in the middle of an academic study session, got down on the floor, and began to do somersaults, declaring, ‘Look at my innate knowledge!’3 To this day, scholars and friends have passed on this story, and Shannong has become a laughingstock. In all his sallies Li Zhi behaves just like Shannong doing somersaults. I only regret that he has expressed himself in inappropriate ways and that his sharp words have been so tactless.”4
Geng Dingxiang also said, “When [Liu] Luqiao [劉魯橋] and several others invited County Magistrate Deng [Dingshi 鄧鼎石] to a banquet, Li Zhi engaged in some shenanigans involving a female impersonator.5 This was another ‘Zen trick,’ just like ‘doing somersaults.’ Presumably Li Zhi was trying to suggest that Luqiao’s studies emphasized excessively strict rules for personal conduct, and he thought it was time to break free of those shackles. But Luqiao’s learning originated in seeking benevolence through reverence and respect; that is the standard he upheld. When I hear of Li Zhi comporting himself in this manner, I feel only more adamant that his contemptuous and disrespectful treatment of both guests and host was a disgrace. Since he does not inspire trust but simply lashes out at people, how can he possibly enlighten them or lead them to nirvana?”
Geng Dingxiang also said, “Li Zhi has been known to drag his students along with him to whorehouses. This was another of his ‘Zen tricks.’”
And Geng Dingxiang further said, “Li Zhi once led a gang of monks to a widow’s house to beg for a vegetarian meal, and in the end they compelled this lady to commit the impropriety of venturing outside her curtain.6 Most local officials found this behavior disgraceful. Yet another ‘Zen trick.’ Now Confucius did meet Nanzi.7 But when Nanzi heard the sound of Boyu’s carriage, she recognized the man’s worthiness. From this we can see that she was the type of person to whom one could speak without wasting words.8 Li Zhi scorns people like me for being incapable of understanding his intentions; instead, he seeks students among women. My followers and I do not regard this behavior as disgraceful to ourselves, rather we consider Li Zhi a disgrace and his actions excessive! I fear that the woman he visited may not have been as intelligent as Nanzi, in which case his sharp words once again may have fallen wide of the mark.”
I have seen this letter from Geng. In every way, he has covered up my blemishes. He deliberately described me in these extremely flattering terms in order to conceal my faults. He does not realize that throughout my life I have incurred shame precisely when I have tried to mask my unseemliness and emphasize my good qualities. People who cover over their blemishes in order to accentuate their good qualities—who descend to the point that they embody the dictum “When small-minded people are alone, there is no limit to what they will do”9—may claim to fool other people, but in the end they sink so low as to deceive even themselves. Luckily, I have relied on sincere friends, who have pointed out my errors as if with acupuncture needles and have spread salve on the wounds. Thanks to their help, I am beginning to gain insight into my errors. I deeply regret my past behavior and am seeking to reflect upon it. Gradually my original, true nature is coming into view. If other people call me unseemly, I dare not object. But these days I fear that I am still on the path of feigning goodness and covering over my bad deeds; I have not yet returned to my original state of wholeness and genuineness. Meanwhile our friend Geng persists in believing that I am unseemly and distorts his account so as to cover my flaws. It was not for this that I decided to study together with my friends, nor was it for this that I came ten thousand li to seek counsel. When I consider the care with which he criticizes me, I know that he is not disloyal or insincere; rather, my disease is incurable.
What he calls “blemishes” are considered so from the perspective of common custom. Whatever vulgar people consider a blemish, everyone collectively considers unseemly. Whatever vulgar people deem beautiful, everyone deems exquisite. But common custom cannot truly distinguish the unseemly from the beautiful; it depends on what one has become accustomed to seeing and hearing. When what we have heard and seen governs us from within, our conceptions of what is unseemly and beautiful become fixed to external standards: they stick like glue and cannot be dissolved.10 Thus even a wise person would not be able to break the mental habit of pointing to a “this” or a “that”—let alone a person as stupid, stubborn, and worthless as I am!11 Vulgar people may be of the confirmed opinion that these distinctions exist; noble and ethical people may consider their existence a settled matter, but if they were to examine their original hearts, they would find that there is a part of themselves that truly cannot be deceived. Since they cannot be deceived, they must emerge from the dark corners where they have been hiding and expose themselves. For only what is seen can be deemed unseemly. So they must bring their “unseemly” actions into the light and declare them openly in the great hall before the multitude; [these deeds will likely be exposed] sooner or later anyway.
This is precisely what Confucius meant when he said that when alone, one must be especially vigilant about one’s moral rectitude.12 The Great Learning mentions this “solitary vigilance” so that people will not deceive themselves. He who does not deceive himself can be content with himself; he who is content with himself can “make his will sincere.” He who “makes his will sincere” can escape the demonic gates of Hell.13 This is truly what separates human beings from demons. So in the end I dare not cover over what common custom calls unseemly and descend into a den of demons. If our friend Geng understood my intentions, he would absolutely refuse to paint over and cover up my faults to this extent.
What our friend Geng says in the middle of his letter about “Zen tricks” is completely wrong. When students first started coming from all four directions, and a Zen master had as yet no way to distinguish the depth or shallowness of their understanding, he would simply address them in isolated words or clipped phrases. To test their abilities he would sometimes smack them with a board or recite a gāthā.14 This is called “using a rod to probe the depth of the water.” If the students failed to comprehend, if they clung fast to the rod itself, unwilling to let go of his words, he would immediately dismiss them with one whack of the board. If they exhibited any understanding, he would show them the shadow of the whip, and they would learn to distinguish between appearance and substance. It’s laughable enough that later scholars, failing to understand, called these methods “Zen paradoxes.” But as for me, I do what I do in all seriousness, with no pretension of “Zen”; it brings me enjoyment; it’s not a “trick.”
In the spring of the year bingxu [1586] I was suffering from a disease of the spleen that lasted for over a year. It nearly turned me into an old cripple. I tried a hundred remedies, but all to no avail. Since my family had already returned home [to Quanzhou] and I was living alone in Chu,15 I often roamed freely, going wherever I wished. It was then that my lethargy dissipated all by itself. I did not have to take hawthorn to aid my digestion. My persistent bile subsided without the use of ginseng or other restoratives. It took less than half a year to bring me back to my old self. Then I came to understand that true healing requires no medicines; most illnesses come about because we oppose our own nature; we follow the multitude in everything, linking elbows and keeping time to their song. From now on I will do what suits me; ultimate bliss will be my guiding principle. Not even the slightest trace of the maladies of falsity or concealment will remain, and so any temporary affliction will simply heal of its own accord. Once I have cured this illness in myself, what need will I have of “Zen tricks”?
Since I am a sojourner here, I have no choice but to let disciples like you follow me.16 For my sake you followed me, and in this way I gained someone on whom to rely. But why would someone like you leave his wife and children to follow me several thousand li from home? My heart truly goes out to you, and naturally I sympathize with you. What could this have to do with “Zen tricks”?
As for the widow, Elder Brother Geng has known about this situation all along. Ever since I came to this county and sent my family away, that woman has often presented gifts of tea and fruit to provide for us fleshy bodhisattvas [the monks]; she has exhibited extreme devotion. At first I did not make inquiries since I treat all almsgivers as equal. Our interactions consisted only of my receiving offerings from her. I did not reciprocate. Later, because this matter became known in the county and rumors were flying, I too found fault with her. I scolded her and no longer accepted her offerings. All my friends in the county know this. But deep down inside I harbored doubts. I believed that since she had sworn not to remarry, she would abide by this vow even under compulsion [to break it]. She devoted herself to honoring the Buddha, hoping to be rewarded in the afterlife. How could rumors circulate about such a pious woman? For this reason, I once joined a large group of people visiting her. The widow, having no sons of her own, had adopted an heir who was over thirty years old. She asked him, as master of the house, to attend to us guests. As soon as we called on them, I learned from the host that the two of them were all alone and had no one to rely on. They had actually been threatened and defrauded. The woman was exceedingly advanced in years. This elderly widow of a Nanjing family had no relations to whom she could turn, having neither sons nor daughters. How must she have felt? Wise men pay no heed to rumors. So I believed even less in the rumors, and I simply pitied her. What has this got to do with studying the Dao?
Remember that it has been more than three years since I arrived in Macheng. Aside from the few people who have treated me affectionately, who has ever given me a leftover bushel or peck of grain? Since the widow treated me consistently from start to finish, since she never lacked respect or ritual correctness, I naturally felt grateful to her and repaid her kindness. I feel obligated to defend her against any unjust accusations made against her and to redress any grievances she incurred. This is the nature of my feelings; what have they to do with “Zen tricks” such that Geng Dingxiang would try to prove their impropriety by alluding to the story of Nanzi?
My basic constitution is the same as any ordinary person’s. Even Confucius was a regular person just like any other. Anyone might meet a Nanzi; I too might meet a Nanzi. Where is the “Zen” and where is the “trick” in that? Of course, [Confucius’s disciple] Zilu lacked common sense; small wonder he disapproved of Confucius’s meeting Nanzi!17 Now, a thousand years later, [people of Zilu’s type are] even more adamant. If it were permissible for everyone except Confucius to interact with women [such as Nanzi], this would constitute a limitation on Confucius. But Confucius brooked no limitations. So how could it have been improper for him to interact with Nanzi? Whether we speak of the situation in terms of “ritual propriety” or “Zen tricks,” this sort of moralizing is reminiscent of Zilu and his ilk. It is not worthy of discussion.
As for Shannong’s turning somersaults, my erudition is so meager that this is the first I’ve heard of it. If indeed he did behave in this way, then Shannong intuitively understood the true essence of innate knowledge and rolled around to express it. What does this have to do with anyone else, and why would Geng Dingxiang deem it a “Zen trick”? In this world, there are countless people who turn somersaults: night and day, without a pause, in great halls and before large audiences, they sycophantically wait upon the wealthy and powerful in order to garner a moment’s attention. In dark rooms they perform servile deeds, hoping to enjoy an instant of glory. Everybody turns such somersaults all the time—and yet Shannong’s one somersault made him a laughingstock! Geng Dingxiang is afraid that people may imitate Shannong, so day after day he keeps this story rolling. I maintain that even if Shannong did roll around once, we never hear of his rolling around after that. Not even Shannong was capable of turning somersaults for his whole life: so why should other people [be accused of performing analogous “somersaults” and capers their entire lives]? And considering that no one has been known to imitate Shannong’s somersaulting, why worry that anyone would begin to copy his somersaults now? This is just a common case of excessive worrying, like the man of Qi who feared that the sky would fall.18
My only regret is that Shannong was not able to spend his whole life rolling around! While one is rolling, one’s internal perception of oneself ceases, as does one’s external perception of others. There is no “beauty” inside and no “unseemliness” outside. One “turns away and loses all consciousness of self, walks through a room seeing none of the people there.”19 Distinctions between internal and external are forgotten; body and mind are as one. How rare and difficult to achieve!
I don’t know whether Shannong truly attained this state. I don’t even know whether Shannong was actually capable of turning somersaults for his entire life. I fear that even he may not have been able to do so. But if he did attain this level, then he is my teacher. How could I doubt this man’s accomplishments simply because other people laugh at him? To base my opinion of him not on my own investigation but on other people’s ridicule would be a mistake. It would oppose the principles of empirical investigation, of learning for one’s self. These were the very sources of Shannong’s spontaneous intuition; it had absolutely nothing to do with “Zen tricks.” Shannong attained the highest level of “studying for one’s own sake.” That is why he was able to behave in such a way. Had any fraction of his mind been diverted by the desire to impress other people, he would not have been able to succeed.
But acting on one’s own behalf is identical to acting on behalf of others. Learning for one’s own benefit is identical to learning for the sake of others. And learning to impress others is no different from learning for oneself. It was not Shannong’s purpose to impress the multitude with “paradoxical displays”; he wanted each person to trust himself. Not to trust oneself would be a disaster!
There are indeed people with great insight who attain deep understanding without having to be instructed in words. Shannong remained in a state of perpetual bliss [by disregarding others’ opinions of him]. How can I ascertain whether among my associates there is anyone as bright and likely to attain enlightenment as Shannong’s disciple Luo Rufang, who would adopt such unseemly postures so as to appeal to Shannong?20 There is no way to be sure. But if there is someone of Luo’s caliber, then as soon as he sees a somersault, he will silently accept the Great Teaching from the West, the dharma. Should he care that others may mock him? Let the mockers mock. Let those who understand understand. Fortunately there are a few who understand! Let the mockers mock a thousand or even ten thousand times. Let them mock for a hundred years or even a thousand years. It won’t matter to Shannong. And why not? The dharma is not spoken for the sake of ordinary people; it is not spoken for the sake of people who cannot understand lofty matters; and it will not be stopped by the fear of ridicule. Nowadays, we are so frantically fearful lest anyone mock us that we no longer rush to share a single person’s joy in enlightenment. I do not know what to say about this. We are too influenced by external factors, too motivated by other people’s expectations.
As for the assertion that I singled out Liu Luqiao as conspicuously “reverent and respectful,” this statement is simply too absurd. I pity Geng for his coarse and superficial understanding. Nonetheless, I will endeavor to twist my tongue to explain the situation to him once again. How could “reverence and respect” be so easy to achieve? No sooner did the ancients exhibit sincere reverence than the whole world was at peace; no sooner did they esteem themselves than the way of kingship was rectified. Did Luqiao attain this level of reverence? Rather, I find fault with him for not being reverent enough! When have I ever implied that he suffered from an excess of reverence? No sooner did the ancients cultivate personal respect than peace reigned among the commoners. No sooner did they embody this respect than they were able to govern righteously. Did Luqiao attain this level of respect? I lament only that he was not respectful enough! When have I ever implied that he suffered from an excess of respect? Indeed, I am the one who suffers [to see the meaning of the word “respect” so misunderstood]! If you think that people like Luqiao exemplify “reverence and respect,” then you must think that the dynasty’s success and prosperity depend on those who attend the emperor in silence, standing stock-still like idols in a temple.
The “meal brought by the guards,” the “daily hundredweight of documents”: this is what real respect and zeal amount to.21 What a pity that, over time, they have gradually been lost. Clearly, reverence and respect are not to be spoken of lightly. Not only are they not to be spoken of lightly, but it is no easy matter to understand reverence and respect. Those who understand and can speak of these qualities are sages. Those who do not understand but nonetheless speak of them and imitate them are like Zhao Kuo, who led the Zhao army to crashing defeat despite having read his father’s books on military strategy;22 they are like You Meng who flummoxed the king of Chu by dressing up as the deceased prime minister, Sun Shu’ao.23 How could these actions be considered genuine? How could they be called anything other than false? It’s truly laughable!
I am fully aware that you find my behavior troubling, and that Geng Dingxiang is concerned on my behalf. But in the end, I cannot adopt the common standard in order to please you and him. Such is the nature Heaven has given me.24 Since Geng was willing to utter such words in an attempt to instruct me, how could I respond with silence, neither agreeing nor disagreeing? And how could I flatter you two by falsely mouthing the sycophantic phrases so common in the world today so as to curry a moment’s favor?
TRANSLATED BY RIVI HANDLER-SPITZ