FUJIWARA SEIKA (1561-1619), HAYASHI
RAZAN
(1583–1657) AND SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY
JAPANESE NEO-CONFUCIANISM
Definitions of Neo-Confucian terms
(Abels):
Supreme
Ultimate (taiji)) or Heavenly Order: source of all that
exists, consisting of Yin and Yang. When it moves it produces Yang; when it
rests, Yin.
Yin
and Yang: opposite and complementary aspects of being which together regulate
the functioning of the universe. Yin is passive, yielding, dark, moist,
receptive, earthy, and female; Yang: active, dynamic, assertive, bright, dry, heavenly, and male
The
Way (Dao or Tao): the harmony produced by the successive alternation of yin and
yang.
Principle
(or law) (li): universal cosmic
order; “principle” gives the universe its structure and is also within the
human mind, which is why we can investigate and understand the natural world. Li also refers to the Confucian rites contained
in the Confucian Classics (the Four Books), the mastery of which is essential
for living a good and ethical life.
“Material
Force” (qi: pronounced chee):
vitality of living things; this is the basic stuff (matter and energy, which
are viewed as one and the same) that is ordered by “principle” (li); qi
makes material objects possible. In its disperse state, qi is the “Great Vacuity”; when it condenses and is structured by
principle, qi becomes material
things. Life is generated by the condensation of qi; death by its dispersal.
Great
Vacuity: qi in its dispersed and
undifferentiated form. It is limitless
and infinite. Hayashi Razan asserts that
both principle (li) and material
force (qi) of yin and yang emerge
from and return to the Great Vacuity.
[NOTE:
“Principle” (li) may be thought of as
analogous to Plato’s Forms: eternal, immutable, non-material patterns of all
things in existence. The Supreme Ultimate, similarly, may be thought of as
similar to Plato’s The Good (the Form of Forms which imparts meaning and
reality to all of existence), and Material Force (qi), to Plato’s physicial objects that embody those immaterial
Forms. The differences, however, are also important to note. Material Force is
not simply physical matter and Principle is not merely patterns. The former combines Western notions of matter
and energy into one concept; the latter refers to cosmic order and to the Confucian
rituals that lie at the heart of Confucian ethics.
from
Fujiwara Seika and the Great Learning by Richard Bowring (on Neo-Confucian
conceptions of human nature and its relationship to nature):
An article of faith for
Neo-Confucianism was the Mencian concept that intrinsic human nature was
fundamentally good. “By the term ‘nature’ we speak of that which is imparted by
the ordinance of Heaven,” as the Doctrine
of the Mean expressed
it. Human nature (xing
) is therefore
essentially principle (li), and it is this that ties us to
the rest of the world. But principle
can only manifest
itself in the world by means of material
force (qi),
and in doing so brings with it materiality (zhi ).
The fact that we receive a certain endowment of material force at
birth governs the nature of each of us, and it is from this that bad thoughts
and bad actions may arise. Zhu Xi explains it in terms of water. If we say that
the mind is water, then nature is still water (no activity), feelings (qing ) are flowing water (activity), and
desires (yu
) are the waves (result
of activity). There can be good desires and bad desires, in the latter case
stemming from the fact that one’s qi is
still full of impurities. When we act in accordance with our original nature,
in other words, in consonance with li,
the result will be good; when we act against it, the result will be bad.
The aim of a Neo-Confucian
education, its spiritual program, is to discover how to clear the material
force (qi) and still the water, a process that
is equivalent to pursuing the Way of the Sage. The sage is he who through study
and reflection reaches such a refined state of mind that his every thought and
every action is in perfect harmony with the underlying principles of the
universe. To reach this state required much effort. One had to hone one’s
understanding of the world and one’s place in it to such a degree that one’s
spontaneous reaction to external stimuli became of itself appropriate.
Seriousness of purpose ( jing
) was needed to
maintain and strengthen this effort, but in the end it brought a realization of
one’s own wholeness and of the unity shared with all things. It will be obvious
that many of the techniques necessary to reach this exalted state were Buddhist
in inspiration and that the ideal of spontaneous reaction owed much to Daoist
attitudes, but Neo-Confucian thinkers distinguished their philosophy from both
these modes of thought: from Buddhism by virtue of emphasis on the existence of
a self, an absolute rejection of relativism, and the upholding of certain
permanent human values seen as essential to the proper working of society; and
from Daoism by holding the universe to be ordered and graspable by rational
thought.
Neo-Confucianism in Seventeenth-Century
(from Sources
of Japanese Tradition, compiled by Wm. Theodore de Bary, Carol Gluck,
and Arthur E. Tiedemann
online: http://www.columbia.edu/~wtd1/w4030/sjt/Ch21.doc)
In the beginning of the seventeenth century
…. the intellectual atmosphere of the early
The change was
pioneered by a number of young
Their central preoccupation was what, for
want of a more adequate translation of the Chinese word wen (J. bun), may best
be rendered as “Literary Culture or Civil Culture.” This “Literature” did not exclude literature
written in Japanese, but was heavily biased towards literature written in
Chinese, Chinese literature, and, above all, the Chinese Classics. …..
The flow of information was maintained by
monks, especially Zen monks, who used to study at least for some years in the
main monasteries in Kyoto, and by samurai, who traveled with their lords to Osaka and Fushimi, and
spent part of their life in the capital area.
Other contributing factors especially relevant to the availability of
texts, were a lively book trade with
Not only was this
knowledge available, there was also a new apparent interest in it among all
classes of society, ranging from daimyo who went to hear lectures by Seika and
who hired his disciples, to the readers of such popular, vernacular treatises as Gion monogatari, Shimizu
monogatari, or the treatises associated with the teaching of the Way of Heaven.
…
In the fluid situation
of the seventeenth century unattached intellectuals, who were neither monks nor
members of the court aristocracy, were a new breed. They had to live by their
wits, and to fight for their own niche—their own position within society. For
their livelihood, they depended on pupils or patronage, but the market for
their skills and knowledge was limited and competition was fierce. They not
only had to contend with Zen monks and court nobles, but they also had to
compete amongst themselves, or form what today would be called networks. The wiser (or less self-assured) among them
took care to develop medicine as a second profession that they could teach as
well as practice. Those who did not, had to be extraordinarily gifted and lucky
(the case of Razan), or had to come to terms with a life lived in relative
poverty .
The debates in which
these intellectuals engaged, did not arise so much from their belonging to
different schools, but from their attempts to draw attention to their own
person and ideas, from their struggle
for pupils and patrons. …. By the same token, the scholarly lineages and
affiliations that were recorded so meticulously during the
Fujiwara
Seika came from an ancient and
noble family, the Reizei branch of the Fujiwara clan, and he was a descendant
in the tenth generation of the famous poet Fujiwara Teika (1162-1241). He was
born on the estate of his family in Miki (Harima) and, as a younger son, was
destined for an ecclesiastical career. When his father and older brother were
killed by a local warlord, Bessho Nagaharu (died 1580), and the family estate
was seized (1578), Seika went to the capital to live with his uncle, Jusen
Seishuku (dates unknown), who was abbot of the Fukoin, one of the subsidiary
temples of Shokokuji, a major Zen monastery in Kyoto, and became a monk of the
Shokokuji himself.
In the course of his
training Seika came into contact with Chinese and Confucian studies, and
apparently Confucianism struck a cord. Nevertheless, the Koreans with whom he
sought contact, i.e. the members of the Korean embassy of 1590 and the Korean
prisoner of war Kang Hang (1567-1618), consistently refer to him as a monk
(“Shun of the Myojuin”). The sources are not clear on this point, but around
that time, shortly before or after 1600, he seems to have renounced
Buddhism. Thereafter he lived as a
layman, and apparently even married and fathered or adopted a son. At least,
the second version of his Collected Works, the Seika-sensei bunsho (preface of
1651; printed in 1717), was compiled by Fujiwara Tametsune, who is described as
his great(?)-grandson.
Before 1600, Seika was
a great traveler who followed Toyotomi Hidetsugu to the base-camp for the first
Korean Expedition in
Fujiwara Seika’s
Letter to the Head of
On whose behalf Seika wrote this letter is
not clear from the letter itself. In the extant printed version(s), both the
name of the sender and the date have been suppressed. If the letter can be read
in conjunction with the ship’s oath that follows it, the sender was Seika’s
patron, the
xxxxxx
of
In your letter you quote from the Great Learning, and say that it is all a matter of “abiding in trustworthiness,” and this one word truly expresses the essence of governing one’s house and teaching the country. Trust is an inherent part of our human nature. It moves heaven and earth, penetrates metal and stone, and pervades everywhere. How could its value be limited only to diplomatic relations and trade between neighboring countries? Is not this nature the reason why all men everywhere are the same, even though customs may differ when we travel a thousand leagues? If we look at things from this perspective, what is different are secondary things such as clothing and language. However, even at a distance of one thousand or ten thousand leagues, and even though clothes and speech may differ, there exists some thing that is not far off, approximately the same, that hardly differs. This is, I think, trust, which is one and universal.
My earlier
emissaries behaved badly. As they traveled to and fro between your country and
In your letter, you say that “our country is a country of poetry and history, of rites and rightness, and not a place of market-goods and traders’ congregations.” Indeed, when one has to do with market-goods and trade, if one only works for gain and profit, it is really despicable. However, if one discusses this in more general terms, are not all of the four classes part of the people, even the despicable merchants? Are not all of the eight responsibilities of the state of equal necessity, even trade? Outside the scope of giving peace to the people and governing them, poetry, history, rites and rightness make no sense, and without poetry, history, rites and rightness, it is impossible to give peace to the people or to govern. This is also the fixed, inherent Nature of the five quarters—the Nature which has trust as one of its principal constituents. What your country is warning against is simply that we might lose this trust, which may bring various unfortunate results. As long, however, as our two countries have not lost this trust, one single small-minded individual should not be able to cause such unfortunate results to arise. But of course, we should be on our guard. In case such an incident should arise, both countries have their codes of punishment.
Ship
Compact (Soan was sending a ship to
1. Speaking generally, the purpose of trade is to bring surplus out of scarcity, in order to bring profit both to others and to oneself. It is not harming others while bringing profit to oneself. Profit shared by both parties, even though small, is actually great, and profit that is not shared, in reality is small, even though it may look great. What one calls profit is the happy result when duties coincide. Therefore it is said that the avaricious merchant gives [only] three, while the decent merchants gives five. Keep this in mind.
2. As compared to our country, other countries may differ in customs and speech, but the heavenly-endowed principle [the moral nature] has always been the same. Do not forget what is common, do not be suspicious of what is strange, and do not ever lie or brag. Even if the foreigners would not be aware of it, we should be. “Trust reaches even to pigs and fish, and trickery shows itself even to the seagulls.” Heaven does not tolerate deception; you should not disgrace the manners of our country. If you meet a humane person or a noble person (junzi) in that country, respect him as you would your father or your teacher. Inquire into the prohibitions and taboos of that country, and adapt to its customs.
3. Between heaven that covers and earth that bears us up, all peoples are brothers and all things are in common, and all should be seen as one in their right to humane treatment. How much more does this apply to people from the same country? To people of the same ship? If there is trouble, sickness, cold or hunger, then all should be helped equally; do not even think of wanting to escape alone.
4. Raging waters and angry waves may be dangerous, but one still runs the greatest risk of drowning from human greed. Human greed takes many forms, but the greatest risk of drowning you run is from liquor and sex. Since you will be traveling together wherever you go, correct each other and admonish each other. The old adage says, “The most dangerous road lies between the bedroom and the dining room.” This is quite true. How could one not be careful?
5. Minor matters are treated in the appendices. Keep this next to your seat day and night, and mirror yourself in it.
In the year KeichÇ x, draft written by Teishi, the trade-ambassador-in charge.
[Seika Sensei bunsho, NST v. 28, pp. 88-90; WB]
Hayashi Razan: Historical
Introduction
HAYASHI RAZAN (1583–1657), also commonly referred to as Hayashi Dōshun;
Japanese Confucian thinker of the early Tokugawa period. Hayashi Razan was born
and raised in
Of more relevance to his background as a
Confucian scholar, Razan established a private school and shrine to Confucius
that eventually received shogunal support, although not on the scale of
shogunal patronage of various Buddhist institutions. He wrote works elucidating
various points of Zhu Xi 's teachings and polemics against Christianity and
Buddhism, which, in the Confucian vein, he attacked as socially disruptive and
therefore immoral religions, alike in their practiced deception of a credulous,
ignorant populace. At the same time, arguing that the Confucian way of
government and Shintō were the same in essence, he asserted that to
establish Confucianism in Tokugawa life was to restore Shintō to its true
place in Japanese society.
Thus Razan's main contribution to the
establishment of Confucianism in Tokugawa life lay in his carving out a
position for the professional scholar as a government adviser. At the same
time, however, he was condemned by many other Tokugawa Confucians for his
readiness to compromise his principles in the process of winning a place for
himself. Both Yamazaki Ansai and Nakae Tōju began their careers as
Confucians by denouncing Razan's acceptance of treatment as a priest despite
his recognition of the evils of Buddhism. Others objected to the precedent he
established for the treatment of the Confucian as a professional scholar
differentiated from and subordinate to those responsible for the actual
business of government. In the eyes of many Tokugawa Confucians, the career
pattern for the Confucian scholar pioneered by Razan contravened the
traditional ideal of the Confucian playing a central role in society and
thereby bringing his education and moral rectitude to bear on the
transformation of society.
from Hayashi Razan from Encyclopedia
of Religion. Copyright © 2001-2006
by Macmillan Reference
http://www.bookrags.com/Hayashi_Razan
Hayashi Razan, excerpts
(from Sources of Japanese
Tradition, compiled by Wm. Theodore de Bary, Carol Gluck, and Arthur E.
Tiedemann
online: http://www.columbia.edu/~wtd1/w4030/sjt/Ch21.doc)
Hayashi
Razan: On Meeting with Ieyasu
Razan’s career in the service of the bakufu began with an interview
with Ieyasu. On this occasion he showed a vastness of erudition far surpassing
that of the erudites in attendance. As the story is usually told, there was
only one interview. However, Razan's Life Chronology [Nenpu] mentions another
audience, that preceded the one described here by Razan himself. This first
audience probably took place on the twelfth day, but anyhow between the eighth
and fifteenth day of the fourth month of Keicho 10 (between May 25 and June 1,
1605), when Ieyasu had temporarily moved from the castle in Fushimi to Nijo
Castle on account of the transfer of the office of shogun to Hidetada. The
second audience must have taken place between the twenty-first of the seventh
month (4-9-1605) and the twenty-second of the eighth month (4-10-1605) of the
same year, when Ieyasu was again staying in
When
I was still young and the Premier (daishokoku)
[i.e. Ieyasu] was still Great Minister of the Center (naidaijin)
(i.e. before 24-3-1603), I had an
audience with him at his Nijo palace.
The Zen fathers Shotai and Sanyo Gankichi and
[Kokubun choshaku zensho v. 12, p. 229; WB]
Hayashi Razan: The Sagely Ideal
versus Practical Compromise
The following excerpts are from a letter written in June or July 1611
by Razan, then at Ieyasu's headquarters in Sunpu, to his teacher Fujiwara Seika
in
Last
time, when I was about to leave
How are you doing these days? Here in Sunpu there is nothing out of the ordinary. . . . I feel myself as if I am more and more going in for fame and profit, as if I am hastening to get myself a flying (sic) neck-shackle. It is shameful. It is terrible. However, I hold the keys of the library in Sunpu. I try one of the buildings, and the boxes are filled with books. I leave it to my hand which one to pick up. The happiness of reading a book I have not yet read! . . . My only pleasure is books. I never tire of reading them, reverently and at ease. When I have entered this building, I sometimes forget to go back and do not notice that the sun is setting. This is a favor from my lord, and one thing that I have gained. Is it not also a reason to be glad? . . .
When I was about twenty years of age I read the books by the Cheng brothers, Zhu Xi and other Confucians. This was the first time I knew that the learning of human nature and principle existed. And when I was in my twenty-second year I obtained a meeting with you. I heard your disputations and steeped myself in your bountiful kindness. And then I thought that the virtue and the literature of our country all lay in you.
The
following year I met our Lord in
However, I am now twenty-nine years of age. When I want to tell someone what I am studying all day, I feel useless like somebody who is skilled in carving up dragons, like someone who is selling ceremonial caps to the people of Yue (where the people cut off their hair and tattoo their bodies).
I "agree with the current customs and consent with an impure age" and pretend that I do this for the sake of harmony. How could I pretend that I learned this from Hui of Liuxia, who "was wanting in self-respect" and "the most accommodating one under the sages? My present self is not my former self, and yet I am like that man. How could I say that I try to emulate Qu Boyu, who was to be found in office when good government prevailed, and who could roll his principles up and keep them in his breast when the government was bad? My spirit is wilting, and the same happens to my literary talents. . . .
Confucius said: “Your good, careful people of the villages are the thieves of virtue." If, acting the way I do, I were to say that I am not one of these good, careful persons of the villages, it would be as if I were holding a net, had waded into a river or lake, and were saying to others: “I am not a fisherman." Would it not be better to throw away the net and have people believe me of their own accord?
I have read the books of the Sages and Worthies. I know that such is their intent; it is something I cannot endure. My ambition, however, to provide for my parents and the obligations I have to my friends and brothers, do not leave me any choice. To this state things have come. . . .
{Hayashi Razan bunsho, v. 1, pp. 25b-28a; WB]
Hayashi
Razan: Responses to Questions of Ieyasu
The following excerpts are from Bakufu mondo (Answers to Questions of
the Bakufu, i.e. Ieyasu). These deal with key issues of Neo-Confucian
doctrine: e.g. the underlying Unity of
Confucian teaching and the age-old question of whether it is legitimate to
overthrow a ruler.
Razan is referred to here by his original
Buddhist name Doshun because his position as advisor to the shogun had by long
shogunal custom been filled by Zen monks.
Since Razan had already renounced Buddhism, he was accused by some scholars
of insincerity and expediency in accepting such a role. Thus it is not surprising that the question
arises of what is legitimate discretion and what mere expediency in the
practical implementation of the Way.
Indeed is the
Ieyasu
asked Doshun [Razan]: Is the Way still
practiced in Ming China? What do you
think about it?" I said that it was. “Although I have not yet seen it with
my own eyes, I know it from books. Now,
the Way is not something obscure and secluded; it exists between ruler and
minister (lord and retainer), father and son, man and wife, old and young, and
in the intercourse between friends. At this time there are schools in
Ieyasu said to Doshun: “The Way has never been practiced, neither now, nor formerly. Therefore, [in the Zhongyong it says] ‘The course of the Mean cannot be attained’ and ‘The path of the Mean is untrodden.’ What do you think of this?" Doshun answered: “The Way can be practiced. What the Zhongyong says is, I think, something that Confucius said when he was complaining of the fact that the Way was not being practiced. It does not mean that the Way cannot actually be practiced. In the Six Classics there are many lamentations like this. It is not only in the Zhongyong."
Ieyasu asked what was meant by “the Mean [Ch. zhong, J. chã]." I answered: “The Mean (or Middle) is difficult to grasp. The middle of one foot is not the middle of one jo (3 meter/10 yard/1 fathom). The middle of a room is not the middle of a house. The middle of a country is not the middle of the empire. All things have their own Middle. Only when you have obtained their principle, can you say that you have found their Middle [Mean]. However much they want to know the Mean, those who have only just begun their studies never obtain it, precisely because they do not know the principles. For this reason we have the maxim, valid now and formerly, that ‘the Mean is nothing but Principle.’"
In the following passage Ieyasu proposes a a relativistic standard of
good and evil, citing the Madhyamika Buddhist doctrine that the Middle Way of
Supreme Wisdom lies in adhering to neither good nor evil (See Ch. 3 and
5). Razan responds that the Confucian
Mean, in contrast to the Buddhist Middle Way of non-discrimination, consists in
making value judgements and acting on behalf of the common good, by which one
achieves unity with the Way. Ieyasu
cites the historic examples of Cheng Tang overthrowing the last king of Xia,
and King Wu of Zhou overthrowing the last ruler of Shang, as cases of expediency
[as in the “expedient means” of Mahayana Buddhism]. Razan views them as cases of legitimate
discretion in acting for the Way. Thus
the argument here hinges on the double meaning of the term Ch. quan, J. ken, understood by Ieyasu as “expediency”
and by Razan as the legitimate exercise of discretion. The former emphasizes moral ambiguity; the
latter the need to resolve the ambiguity by judgments on behalf of the common
good.
Ieyasu said: “In both the Middle [Path] and Expediency there can be good or bad. Tang [in overthrowing the last king of Xia] and Wu [in overthrowing the last king of Shang] were vassals who overthrew their lords. Their actions, though bad, were good. As the phrase goes, ‘In taking the empire they went against the Way, and in keeping it, they followed the Way.’ Therefore, ‘neither good nor bad’ is the ultimate truth of the Middle [Way]." I answered: “My opinion is different from this. May I be allowed to speak my mind? I think that the Mean is good, that it does not have one speck of evil. The Mean is, that you attain the principles of all things and that your every action accords with the standard of rightness. If one regards the good as good and uses it, and regards evil as evil and shuns it, that is also the Mean. If one knows what is correct and incorrect and distinguishes between what is heterodox and orthodox, this is also the Mean. Tang and Wu followed Heaven and reacted to the wishes of mankind. They never had one particle of egoistic desires. On behalf of the people of the empire they removed a great evil. How can that be ‘good, though bad?’ The actions of Tang and Wu were in accord with the Mean; they are instances of [legitimate] discretion. The case is quite different from that of the usurper Wang Mang (BCE 33-CE 23), who overthrew the Former Han dynasty, or of Cao Cao (155-220), who was responsible for the fall of the Later Han dynasty. They were nothing but brigands. As for the phrase that ‘In taking the empire they went against the Way and in keeping it they followed the Way’—this [moral relativism] is applicable only to actions such as lies, deceit and opportunistic plotting. . . .
On the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month the bakufu said to Doshun: . . . “What is that so-called ‘Unity that pervades all?’" Doshun answered: “The heart of the Sage is nothing but Principle. Now, always and everywhere, Principle runs through all things and all actions in the world; the Sage reacts to them and acts on them according to this one Principle. Therefore it does not occur that he goes and does not obtain his proper place. To give an example, it is like the movement of spring, summer, fall and winter, of warm and cold, day and night: though they are not identical, yet they are a cyclical stream of one and the same original matter that is not disrupted for one single moment. For that reason actions in the world may be ten-, hundred-, thousand- or ten myriad-fold, but that with which the heart reacts to them is only the one, uniting Principle. With one's lord it is loyalty; with one's father, filial piety; with one's friends, trust; but none of these Principles is different in origin.". . .
The bakufu again said: “Were the wars of Tang and Wu instances of discretion or expediencey" Doshun answered: . . .“ The purpose of the actions of Tang and Wu was not to acquire the empire for themselves, but only to save the people." . . . If those above are not a [wicked] Jie or Zhou and those below not a [virtuous] Tang or Wu, then one will commit the great sin of regicide; Heaven and earth will not condone this. . . . It is only a matter of the hearts of the people of the empire. If they turn to him, he becomes a ruler, and if not, he is a ‘mere fellow.’ [and killing him is not regicide]"
[Bakufu mondo in Razan Sensei bunsho NST v.28, pp. 205-08; WB]
The Three Virtues (Santokusho)
This essay, attributed to Hayashi Razan by his son Gaho, is a concise
and coherent summation of the principles of Neo-Confucian self-cultivation,
drawn mostly from Zhu Xi’s version of the Great Learning (Daigaku). The text,
however, superimposes on that structure a concept of Three Virtues taken from
the Mean (Choyo): wisdom, humaneness and courage. For the author these constitute a triad of
irreducible, interdependent, values governing all human affairs, but with some
priority given to intellectual virtue over moral sentiment.
(I)
The Three Virtues
(1.1) Wisdom means having no doubts in one’s mind. Humaneness refers to having no regrets after making judgments or decisions. Being of firm mind and strong determination refers to courage. Wisdom, humaneness and courage are the Sages’ three virtues.
Referring to these three virtues, Confucius states in the Analects that, “The wise have no perplexities; the humane have no worries; the courageous have no fears. . . .
Although distinguishable as three virtues, the three are replete in man’s mind, and thus wisdom embraces humaneness and courage. Without humaneness and courage, great wisdom would be impossible to achieve. Similarly humaneness includes both wisdom and courage; without the latter two virtues, perfect humaneness would not be possible. Thus, when analyzed they are three, yet when synthesized, they constitute a unified moral mind.
The Way of learning begins with completely comprehending principle and thereby attaining wisdom. What is consistent with principle is morally good, while evil invariably violates principle. Understanding the difference between good and evil gives one certainty. . . . If one doubts, one should clear them away by inquiry. By overcoming doubts, one proceeds to a trust that harbors no doubts. . . .
Without pursuing learning, one will be unable to have doubts about anything. Relative to understanding principles completely, having doubts signifies the advancement of learning [gakumon no susumu]. With doubts and misgivings resolved, one’s mind naturally becomes clear and moral principles are unobscured. Unless one resolves these doubts, however, one will never be able to discern matters with certainty. . . .
If today one principle is investigated, and tomorrow one more principle is inquired into, soon one will be free of doubts. If one can thoroughly penetrate one principle, all principles will be clear even though one has not investigated matters on a large scale. Within a single principle, one can progress from one matter to ten others. When these are investigated so that one completely comprehends both the internal and external, as well as the beginning and end of the matter, then one’s understanding actually spans myriad principles.
In doing this, one moves from the outside inwards, from the surface to the interior, from the beginning to the ending, from shallow ground to the deeper and from rough outlines to more detailed particulars. When all the mind’s principles are investigated, one will have thoroughly exhausted the limits of wisdom. . . . [151-8]
(II) The Five Relationships (Gorin)
(2.1) Throughout history the five relationships, those pertaining to ruler and minister [lord and retainer], parent and child, husband and wife, older and younger brother, and friends, have existed. Since the five Ways have continued unaltered, they are called “universal Ways” [dadao/tatsudo]. . . .
Rulers should love their people; ministers should serve their rulers; fathers should be compassionate with their sons; husbands should manage external matters while wives ought to order the family’s internal affairs; elder brothers should teach their younger brothers and younger brothers ought to follow their elder brother’s instructions; friends should associate with one another on the basis of rites and justice. Such behavior is entirely within the sphere of wisdom, humaneness and courage. . . .
(2.2) Wisdom refers to understanding the principles of things. . . .
(2.3) Humaneness refers to loving things. If one does this as one would if thinking of oneself, then one’s humaneness will necessarily be genuine and sincere, devoid of selfishness. . . . Humaneness is, furthermore, life-giving. Eliminating evil is rightness [Yi/gi]. Deliberations as to whether one should kill a thing or help it should address matters of humaneness and rightness. If by killing, one eliminates evil, then there is humaneness within the right act of killing. If that is so, killing the rat is humane. If one kills thieves to admonish others against doing evil, that too expresses this same mind. To think that humaneness consists only of compassion is to think simply of “small humaneness.” To admonish one evil person and thus provide for the goodness of myriad others is “great humaneness.” Thus, while humaneness is love, one is not being humane in loving evil persons. Rather, humaneness consists in loving what is good and detesting what is evil. If one acts in this way, how could one be selfish?
(2.4) Courage refers to stoutheartedness which conforms to rightness. Acting immediately when one perceives what is morally good is courage. Being hesitant, lazy or unsure whether or not one should do something, even when one knows what is right, is not courage. . . . Wisdom consists in understanding humaneness and courage. Humaneness consists in not casting off wisdom and in preserving courage. Courage consists in practicing both wisdom and humaneness. Of the three virtues, wisdom, humaneness and courage, not one should be omitted! From the beginning, they have constituted the sincerity of man’s whole mind.
(III.)
A Discussion of Principle and Material Force
(3.1) The successive alternation of yin and yang is called the Way. What issues from the Way is morally good, and that which completes the Way is called the nature.
Both before Heaven and earth have opened up, and afterwards, principle always denotes the great Supreme Ultimate. When the Supreme Ultimate moves, it produces yang; when it is still, it produces yin. Yin and yang together make up the “one, originating material force.” Once they have divided, they become two. When they have divided again, they become the five processes [wuxing/gogyo]. The five processes are (1) wood, (2) fire, (3) earth, (4) metal and (5) water. These five processes create everything.
When they combine and form things, man is one of their products. Skin comes from earth; hair comes from wood; the vital fluids come from water; man’s skeleton and muscles come from metal; and, man’s energy comes from fire. Regarding man’s five organs: the essence of fire, wood, earth, metal and water form his heart, liver, spleen, lungs and kidneys respectively. Thus do the five processes conjoin to create the human body. The active, animated aspect of man is referred to as material force. Principle refers to what is naturally replete within material force. This principle is the Supreme ultimate. It is called the Way.
The master of the physical form created by the intermingling of principle and material force is called the mind. Since this mind contains the original principles of the great ultimate, it is empty and open [Xukung/koko] like Heaven. Lacking both shape and sound, it consists simply of moral goodness, and is void of any evil.
Yet in material force, both purity and pollutants, good and evil coexist. Due to the heterogenous nature of material force, when people are created, selfishness, excessive desires and evil emerge as well. For example, when the eyes see beautiful forms, the mind might think of evil. Or, when the mouth says something, or the hands and feet touch something, it is much the same. Always, selfishness and excessive desires arise from material force. . . .
(3.2) The four beginnings come out of our
principle while the seven emotions come from material force.
The four beginnings are the first manifestations of humaneness, rightness, ritual decorum and wisdom. The seven emotions refer to the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, joy, love, hate and desires. Since man’s mind-and-heart is simply moral principle (dori), humaneness, rightness, ritual decorum and wisdom emerge from it. As material force consists of both good and evil the seven emotions emerge from them. Thus the seven emotions are both good and evil, while the four beginnings are purely good, without any evil. If the seven emotions arise in conformity with moral principles, then they are consistent with humaneness and rightness. When influenced by one’s ever fluctuating material endowment, the seven emotions arise in accord with selfish desires and may be contrary to moral principles. Due to this evil tendency, one must discern the manner in which they arise. If the seven emotions run contrary to moral principle, they will inevitably lead to evil.
Moral principle, by itself could hardly produce activity. If combined with material force to form the mind, principle is capable of motion and activity. . . .
While moral principle and material force are two aspects of being, whenever material force exists moral principle also exists. Since moral principle is, in itself, formless, it has no place to dwell unless material force exists. Moral principles do not exist apart from material force. It is not that today material force exists and tomorrow moral principle comes into being. When either exists, the other exists simultaneously. Material force is that which capably moves moral principle, while moral principle is that which preserves order within material force. When one understands that the mind-and-heart is formed from these two, one can manage one’s material force with one’s mind.
(3A.3) It would be incomplete to talk about the nature of man and things without including material force. Similarly, it would be unintelligible to talk about material force without including nature. It is mistaken to consider them as two different things. Accounting for moral principle’s endowment within man is problematic if one only discusses moral principle without discerning its relation to material force. Conversely, the myriad things will hardly be discernible if one simply discusses material force without acknowledging moral principle. Nature is principle. Nature should be discussed in conjunction with material force. It is mistaken to divide them.
Man’s nature is originally good. In reply to the question, whence evil? One should reply that human nature is like water. It is clear. . . .
Material force is also comparable to water. Although originally calm, water becomes wavy when windblown. Depending on an area’s topography, water can bring floods. While it originally tends to flow downward, water can be lifted upwards by water carts. Though originally clear, when it flows into mud and mire, it becomes dirty. And, while water is able to support boats, it can also sink them. Despite all of that, when it returns to its original state, water’s fundamental nature is to be clean and calm.
Thus there are disparities in material force. “Disposition of the material force” (Qishi/kishitsu) refers to that part of the omnipresent material force which people receive as their physical form. Disparities exist among “dispositions of material force” too. . . .
Yet by studying and learning, one can reform one’s disposition of the material force, and change it from evil to good. While the disposition of the material force with which one is born is fixed, one should not abandon it, leaving it as it is. Rather, if one studies, even the foul parts will become clear just as water returns to its original nature. Likewise in man dullness becomes bright, ignorance becomes wisdom, weakness becomes strength and evil becomes good, all through study. . . .
(3.8) The human mind is precarious while the mind of the Way is subtle. Be discriminating, be unified and hold fast to the Mean.
These are words from “The Counsels of Great Yü.” While the mind is essentially one, its active, moving aspect is called “the human mind” (Jin no kokoro], while its moral aspect is called “the mind of the Way” (do no kokoro). When cold, one thinks of warm clothing, when hungry, one thinks of food. Eyes long to see beauty; ears long to hear interesting sounds; noses long to smell pleasant odors. All desires are produced by “the mind of man.” “The mind of man” has many selfish tendencies, yet harbors few concerned for the common good (oyake). Since it easily tends towards evil, the above passage states that “the human mind is precarious.” “Precarious” refers to the real insecurities which confront the mind when faced with choices between good and evil, right and wrong.
When moral principles prevail in the mind, though one may think of food and warm clothing, one might still be willing to endure hunger and cold and decline food and clothing if they are not gotten in a moral way. . . .
“Be discriminating” means discerning and manifesting “the mind of the Way” so that selfishness is not mixed in at all. “Being unified” means to preserve and correct the mind at all times. If, by being discriminating and unified, one can make “the mind of the Way” the master and make “the mind of man” follow it, then even precarious situations will become simple, subtleties will become manifest, and all matters will naturally accord with moral principle. Preserving and not losing “the mind of the Way”refers to “holding fast to the Mean.” “The Mean” is another term denoting the moral principles which are provided in both the substance and functioning of man’s original mind.
(3.11) From the great vacuity (taixu), there comes the concept (mei) of Heaven. From the transformation of material force, there comes the concept of the Way. From the unity of the great vacuity and material force comes the concept of the nature. From the union of the nature with consciousness comes the concept of the mind.
The great vacuity is Heaven. Due to its limitlessness and infinitude, it is called “the great vacuity.” From it, both moral principle and material force emerge. Because this naturally occurs, “the great vacuity” is referred to as Heaven as well. Heaven consists of the material force of yin and yang. It brings cold and hot, night and day, wind and rain. It creates man and the myriad things. While Heaven is entirely principle, since it is not separated from the material force of yin and yang, it is referred to as material force.
From the transformation of material force come the concept of the Way. The concept of nature comes from the process in which the great vacuity and material force unite to create man’s form. The concept of the mind comes from the motion and activity of man’s form which is endowed with this nature. While there are these four concepts, the great vacuity, the Way, the nature and the mind, originally they are one principle.
(IV.)
The Great Learning (Daxue/Daigaku)
(4.1.) In the past, during the flourishing of the Tang dynasty (618-907), “great learning” and “elementary learning” (xiaoxue/shogaku) referred to two places for education, one for adults and the other for children. From ages eight until fifteen, children attended to elementary learning, learning to sweep and clean, ask and answer questions, discipline themselves, read and write, calculate, shoot a bow, ride horses and perform rites and music. Such was the method of elementary learning.
From age fifteen students entered higher school (daigaku) and began to study the Way of sages and worthies. Places for “elementary learning’ and “higher learning” existed in the capital city, as well as in the countries, towns and villages of the countryside. As was appropriate in each area, similar schools with similar curricula were established everywhere to give instruction to people. . . .
If things are done in this way, people will do good and refrain from evil, they will be correct, not wicked. Towards the ruler, they will be fully conscientious and toward their parents, they will be completely filial. Naturally they will avoid partiality. The state will thus be governed and the world will be at peace. . . .
(V) Three Guiding Principles
(5.1) The Way of learning to be great consists in manifesting one’s luminous virtue, loving the people and abiding in the highest good. Luminous virtue (meitoku) refers to one’s original mind. It is naturally endowed in man from birth by Heaven. . . .
The example of a bright mirror may clarify this. . . . Just as a mirror receives all forms, so is man’s mind endowed with the principles of all things.
(5.2) Humanness, justice, propriety, wisdom, trustworthiness, conscientiousness and filial piety are all completely endowed within man’s mind. Since their principles are extremely clear, the mind is referred to as “luminous virtue.” . . .
(5.3) Pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate and desire are the seven emotions or the seven feelings. While these seven are replete within the one mind from the beginning, one must be very clear about the thoughts which give rise to them. One should be pleased when pleasure conforms with moral principles. Similarly, one should be angry when one ought to be angry; sad when one ought to be sad; frightened when one ought to be frightened. One should detest when one ought to detest; hate when one ought to be hateful and desire what one ought to desire. . . . One should express one’s feelings in accord with the principles for their expression.
The peacefulness and clarity of the mind prior to the arising of the seven feelings is comparable to a clear blue sky’s emptiness (koko). While “emptiness” means “having nothing,” still the very same sky harbors wind and rain, clouds and mist, thunder and lightening. These phenomena are comparable to the seven feelings. When the sky clears, it returns to its original blueness and appears empty. Likewise when the seven feelings are properly controlled, the mind returns to its usual state of quietness and calm. . . . Unless this method is followed, selfishness grows, desires dominate and one becomes pleased, angry, sad, frightened, loving, hateful and desirous when one should not. The mind becomes ill as it violates moral principle. Since their expression is warped towards evil, the seven feelings become vile things. . . .
(5.4) Of all living creatures, none is more respectable than man. Thus, his mind is endowed with the myriad principles of Heaven and earth. The material force of Heaven and earth is his material force, and the mind of Heaven and earth is his mind. Invariably, moral principles constitute the unity of man’s mind. Manifesting this mind in thought, speech and action so that it has never darkened, is called “manifesting luminous virtue.”. . .
Whether luminous virtue is manifested or obscured rests solely with man; thus, there are no faults which come from luminous virtue itself. . . . If desires arise when one sees, if the sounds which one hears confuse the mind, if one longs for delicious tastes, or seeks sweet odors, if one is attached to one’s body or follows blindly the motion of physical forms, in violation ofmoral principles. Then inevitably, one will obscure one’s luminous virtue.
“Loving the people” refers to manifesting one’s luminous virtue with the wish that people are instructed and enlightened by it. “Renewing the people” refers to cleansing them anew by washing away the foulness and dirtiness of selfish human desires which have besmirched them for a long time. . . . One should strive to illuminate those who have yet to understand their luminous virtue so that they too can manifest it. . . . This is the meaning of “loving the people.”
Manifesting luminous virtue involves governing (osamuru) one’s self. Loving the people involves governing (osamuru) others. . . . The process of loving the people involves leading others to filial piety by being filial to one’s parents, leading others to their public duties by being conscientious to one’s ruler and leading others to doing good by personally doing good.
“The highest good” refers to both manifesting luminous virtue and loving the people so that matters are naturally settled in accordance with principle. . . . Among the myriad matters of daily practicality, whether they be great matters or trivial ones, there are none from which moral principles are vacant. In dressing, eating, speaking, behaving, standing, sitting, day and night, morning and evening, all matters are invested with moral principles. “Abiding in the highest good” refers to fully attaining these principles. . . .
Luminous virtue, loving the people and the highest good express “the three guiding principles (korei) of the Great Learning.” . .
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(VI) The Five Constants (Goto)
(6.1) Regarding humaneness, rightness, ritual decorum and trustworthiness, humaneness is the virtue which is innate to man’s mind-and-heart and the principle of its love for things. . . .
Upon seeing a child about to fall into a well, anyone will feel compassion for it regardless of whether they previously knew the child or its parents. . . . In this case, one’s mind instantly feels compassion and love for the child, without thought of selfishness.
Also, upon seeing grasses and trees growing luxuriantly, one thinks it interesting; yet upon finding them withered or broken, one feels sorry. Seeing birds flying and bustling about, one is amused by them; yet upon discovering them dead, one feels grief. This is due to humaneness. By extending this mind-and-heart to all things, one comes to love everything without exception. . . .
Although the mind is not itself visible, when one sees the birth of everything in the beginning of spring, one can understand the mind of Heaven and earth. When man’s mind and the mind of Heaven and earth become one, their creativity expands, excluding selfishness and greed, so that neither harm nor injury is done to things. That unified mind, then, embodies the way of humaneness (jin no michi).
(6.2) Rightness (gi) is the basis of the mind’s decisions. Following the times and circumstances refers to doing what is appropriate. While life is a precious thing, if our minds do not consent [to what is wrong], we will not accept food and will die. Or, we will not accept clothing and die. When deciding whether to accept them and live, or refuse them and die, more than just calculating whether one will live by accepting these things, one asks whether, if it [is not in] accord with principle one should decline them and die. . . .
Rightness, too, resides in detesting, rejecting and discarding the evil which is found in others. Serving one’s ruler conscientiously involves rightness as well. . . . Once this sense of rightness is extended to everyone, people will all do good and refrain from evil. . . .
(6.3) Ritual decorum refers to being careful in dealing with others so as not to disorder relationships. Youth should respect the old, humble persons ought to revere those of high standing: that is decorum. That various grades of officials wear certain caps and cloaks is also a matter of ritual decorum. Ceremonies for attaining manhood, taking a wife, taking a husband, and manners and etiquette are all matters of ritual decorum. While these examples involve people’s actions, their principles emerge from within that part of men’s minds which preserves order. . . . By extending this mind to all things, one should cause no disorder in relations between ruler and ministers, superior and inferiors, and among people at large. . . .
(6.4) While the myriad things are manifold, if their principles are completely fashioned, one understands that those principles are originally one with man’s mind-and-heart.. When everyone has comprehended one principle thoroughly, all principles will be understood equally. . . .
(6.5) Trustworthiness refers to the fixed principles of man’s mind which are wholly without falsehood. While humaneness, justice, propriety and wisdom all are genuinely truthful, trustworthiness pertains to being without deception in one’s body and mind as one acts. . . .
Is there anywhere in the world that trustworthiness [reliability] does not exist. Three hundred and sixty days make one year. Spring is warm, summer is hot, autumn is cool and winter is cold. The alternations of the sun and moon, day and night, have been undeviating since antiquity. Seeds from grasses and trees produce grasses and trees. Also birds and beasts give birth to birds and beasts. Humans give birth to humans. Birds fly in the sky, beasts roam in the plains and mountains, fish swim in water. These matters are not deceptive. Scrutinizing anything, one sees that there are none which lack genuine principles (shinjitsu nori). These genuine principles are called “the Supreme Ultimate” (taikyoku). They existed prior to the opening of Heaven and earth, and will exist until the end of Heaven and earth. Those genuine principles which man receives in his mind, and which cannot be lost, are referred to as trustworthiness.
(VII) The Seven Feelings
(7.1) In distinguishing pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate and desire, men’s minds-and-hearts become limitlessly enlarged. Like Heaven or perhaps the empty sky, the mind can contemplate long into the past, a thousand or even ten-thousand years ago. It can imagine a place a thousand or perhaps ten-thousand miles away. The mind also can understand the principles of all things. Though it can expand in these ways, the mind exists nowhere outside the body.
Before thoughts arise, the mind is quiet, correct, level and clear. When something pleasurable appears, the mind is pleased. If something angering arises, it becomes angry. Encountering sorrowful things, the mind is sorrowed. With frightening things, it is frightened. Confronted with something lovable, the mind loves. Presented with something detestable, the mind detests it. And, the mind desires when it experiences what is desirable. These are the mind’s activities. . . .
The seven feelings described above are the expressions of the mind. While it is impossible that they be done away with and while the seven may be seen as one, when one violates principle in the expression of the feelings, the original mind is disturbed, inevitably becoming incorrect. When the mind is incorrect, the self will be disordered, and the country will be ungoverned. When the seven feelings are properly expressed, the original substance of the mind naturally becomes correct and manifest. When the mind is correct, the self is cultivated properly, and the family is ordered. When the family is ordered, the country is well governed. Then the world too will be at peace. Thus the sages’ Way makes correcting the mind its foundation. The mind which is corrected and illumined properly is called luminous virtue.
(VIII) Seeing, Hearing, Speech and Action
(8.1) Therefore, the method of the Great Learning consists in well ordering and correcting the mind internally and its seven feelings. Then, externally, one will be minutely respectful in one’s appearance, one’s seeing, hearing, speech and actions. Thus, the learning of sages and worthies consists in controlling the self, ordering the people and governing the state.
[Santokusho, NST v. 28, pp. 152-86; JAT]