[In the following excerpt, Ivanhoe uses Analects 5.13 to illustrate some profound philosophical differences in the tradition of Confucian interpretation.]

For over two thousand years, Confucian scholars have sought to explicate the meaning of their sacred texts, producing an extensive, rich, and sophisticated commentarial tradition that is an indispensable aid to the modern interpreter.¹ In addition to writing formal commentaries, Confucian thinkers regularly referred to and expounded upon the meaning of classical passages in the course of their philosophizing. These thinkers did much more than simply chant the words of their sages and provide precise annotation and background information to these texts, they interpreted the sayings of the ancients. We who study the classics today are in a significant sense following their lead. Our modern interpretations may be the latest but surely will not be the last word on what these texts mean.²

Like modern scholars, traditional Confucians did not always agree about the meaning of the texts they studied. They shared a common language but only rarely did they speak in a single voice. Traditional commentators have tended to argue for one interpretation as definitive or orthodox or, on a more irenic note, have sought to reconcile what they claim are only apparent differences among competing interpretations.³

This essay explores different interpretations of a single passage from the Analects of Confucius. Analects 5.13 is important for a variety of reasons. It is one of only two places in the text where the character human nature (xìng) is mentioned (the other being 17.2) and it is the only passage that mentions the Way of Heaven (tīandào). Moreover, the text can be understood as implying that there are esoteric as well as exoteric aspects to Confucius' teaching. Although this is only one of several possible readings, as we shall see, some version of this distinction informs many of the interpretations we shall explore. It is also widely followed by modern translators of the text.⁴ This is only one of several issues raised in this passage that had profound implications for how later Confucians came to think about the teaching and practice of self-cultivation and that deeply influenced their views concerning Confucius and the classics.

Analects 5.13 records the words of one of Confucius' disciples, a man named Zigòng. It consists of two short sentences, twenty-eight characters in all, but as we shall see it has generated many times this length in commentary. Although the most interesting disagreements over interpretation reflect divergent philosophical assumptions or concerns, several involve different views that concern the punctuation or grammar of these lines. …

We will trace the history of interpretation of Analects 5.13 from the earliest stages of the commentarial tradition, the Wei dynasty collection by Hé Yàn (d. 249) and others,⁵ through the Song dynasty thinkers Chéng Hào (1032-85), Chéng Yí (1033-1107), and Zhū Xī (1130-1200), down to the Qing dynasty scholars Dài Zhèn (1723-77) and Zhāng Xúechéng (1738-1801). These are not the only interesting interpreters of this passage, nor are they in every case the originators of the hermeneutical innovations they employ. However, they are among the most developed and clear authors of profound readings of the passage and they are some of the finest and most influential thinkers within the Confucian tradition.

THE INTERPRETATIONS

The first commentary is a compilation associated with the third-century thinker Hé Yàn along with other contributors to this collection read and admired Daoist texts like the Laozi and Zhuangzi. But they were characteristically Confucian in their ethical, political, and social philosophy. The eclecticism and syncretism of this group of thinkers arose under the influence of the rich metaphysical speculation and grand philosophical system building that blossomed during the Hàn dynasty. Developing ideas that can be found in the Laozi, Zhuangzi, and Yijing, they devised comprehensive metaphysical schemes and used these as the foundation for largely Confucian ideals. For example, they elevated the notion of non-being, the formless and ineffable primordial state of the cosmos, to a preeminent position.⁶ Because the world arose out of the common, undifferentiated state of “non-being,” it provided the underlying unity of the cosmos and the justification for the universal concern of the fully virtuous individual. Hé Yàn in particular emphasized this idea, which figures prominently in his commentary on Analects 5.13.

According to the Hé Yàn commentary, Analects 5.13 says, “The culture of our master is evident and can be heard. But our master's teachings about human nature and the Way of Heaven cannot be heard.” This interpretation relies first of all on a unique understanding of the characters wénzhāng in the first line. All the other commentaries we will discuss take both of these characters as nouns. But the Hé Yàn commentary takes wén as a noun and zhāng as a predicate adjective. Thus the first five characters of line one are read as a complete sentence. The commentary offers the following remarks on this line, “Zhāng means clear and bright. Pattern, color, form and substance are plainly manifest and can be followed with the ears and eyes.” Regarding the second line, it says, “Human nature is what human beings receive at birth. The Way of Heaven is the original and pervasive Way which each day is renewed. These are deep and subtle issues; one cannot hear of them.”

The commentary also sees considerable significance in the character yán (here rendered “teachings”) in the second line.⁷ According to the Hé Yàn commentary this character marks a distinction between concrete observable phenomena (which can be “talked about” and thereby “heard”) and abstract metaphysical entities (which cannot be “talked about” and therefore “cannot be heard”). Echoing the language of the Yijing and the Daodejing,⁸ the commentary explains that human nature and the Way of Heaven are mysterious, transcendental entities that are beyond our normal powers of comprehension. Such things are—like the original and unifying non-being of the universe—in principle ineffable. Because such things cannot be talked about, it follows a fortiori that they “cannot be heard.”

By interpreting the passage in terms of a distinction between accessible and everyday phenomena and abstruse and distant metaphysical principles, the Hé Yàn commentary establishes a theme that, as noted above, greatly influenced later interpreters. Some later commentators softened the view we see here, claiming only that issues like human nature and the Way of Heaven are difficult—not in principle impossible—to hear about. Because the inherent subtlety and profundity of these topics makes them extremely hard to understand, such knowledge is of a different order. It takes a certain kind of person, one of profound intelligence, learning, or sensitivity to grasp these truths.

We now turn to the Song dynasty Neo-Confucian Chéng Hào. Chéng incorporated important aspects of the Hé Yàn commentary in his own interpretation of Analects 5.13, but he also introduced a number of new ideas. One of the first differences to note is his interpretation of the characters wénzhāng in line one.⁹ Chéng took these characters as a compound noun that referred to Confucius' teachings about culture: “The Book of Odes, Book of History, and proper ritual observance—these were Confucius' regular topics.”¹⁰ “These were the things he often spoke about. As for human nature and the Way of Heaven even Zigong could not hear of these things. It seems that these are things that must be ‘understood in silence.’”¹¹ Chéng Hào agreed with the Hé Yàn commentary in positing an esoteric versus exoteric division within Confucius' teachings. Chéng also followed the Hé Yàn commentary in seeing this division in terms of a contrast between the underlying metaphysical pattern of the world and its observable phenomena. He, too, invoked notions from the Yijing, specifically the well-known dichotomy between what is above form (xíng ér shàng) and what is within form (xíng ér xìa). According to Chéng Hào, one cannot describe the immutable Dào, what is above form, in words, and so one cannot hear about the Dào itself. Although Chéng Hào believed that such knowledge was ineffable, he did not believe it beyond comprehension or even limited to the understanding of only a select few. However, it does require a special kind of understanding. One must employ the unique human faculty of moral understanding and develop an intuitive grasp of these things. Chéng takes the implications of the Hé Yàn commentary in a new direction when he says, “As for human nature and the Way of Heaven, if one does not ‘attain a personal understanding of them’¹² then one does not understand. This is why Zigong said, ‘One cannot hear of them.’”¹³

Chéng Hào believed that one cannot grasp the Way through the intellect alone and that over reliance upon the more intellectualist, academic style of learning advocated by other Neo-Confucians of his time could in fact become an impediment to one's understanding. Relying exclusively upon the “clever calculations” of one's intellect is an immature and ineffective approach. It cannot yield complete knowledge of the Way and is the mark of a beginner. Genuine understanding requires a deep personal insight, and those who experience such insights are transformed forever: “To know through clever calculation was something Zigong did in the early stages of his training. Saying ‘one cannot hear our master talk about human nature and the Way of Heaven’ was something he only achieved later on.”¹⁴ In another passage, Chéng Hào explicitly tells us that Zigòng was just beginning to achieve a genuine understanding of the master's teachings when he spoke the words recorded in Analects 5.13: “Zigong had at this point just begun to understand human nature and the Way of Heaven and sighed in admiration of these teachings. …”¹⁵ From these and other of Chéng Hào's comments we see that he believed one could gauge a student's spiritual attainment by his command of these two types of knowledge: the exoteric, publicly available lessons Confucius taught, and the esoteric ineffable teachings that required a direct, personal insight. Chéng Hào thought he could diagnose Zigòng's level of attainment and know that his remarks were made as he first began to understand Confucius' higher teachings. This feature of Chéng Hào's commentary represents a remarkable shift in hermeneutical perspective. The earlier Hé Yàn commentary is essentially a description of the kinds of things Confucius taught. Chéng Hào understands the passage as describing an elaborate and nuanced process of learning. The former interprets the passage from a general point of view, whereas Chéng Hào understands the passage in terms of the personal spiritual narrative of Zigòng's life.

Chéng Yì's understanding of Analects 5.13 is similar in important respects to that of his elder brother. For example, he, too, believed in a fundamental distinction between an exoteric and an esoteric teaching and that the passage describes the personal spiritual development of Zigòng. But Chéng Yì added new features to this distinction that are characteristic of his own particular philosophical perspective. Whereas Chéng Hào said that the reason one “cannot hear” the teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven is that these things in principle are beyond words and must be grasped intuitively by our special moral sense, Chéng Yì not only believed such things can be talked about, he also insisted that Confucius did not withhold these higher teachings from his disciples.¹⁶

As for human nature and the Way of Heaven, these are things that in the early stages of his time with Confucius, Zigong did not yet comprehend. At this point, he was able to understand them, thus he spoke these lines, sighing in admiration of these teachings. It was not that Confucius did not explain them, but can people easily attain an understanding of topics as profound and subtle as these?¹⁷

In regard to Confucius' higher teachings, Chéng Hào talked of the need to “attain a personal understanding of them” and for a “silent understanding.” He emphasized a personal, intuitive understanding. But Chéng Yì states explicitly that understanding these higher teachings was a matter of intellect—not intuition. These were inherently difficult concepts and represent the profound intelligence of the sage. “When Zigong spoke of the teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven he was speaking of the master's astute intelligence (cōngmíng). When he spoke of how Confucius ‘would make them (i.e. the people) happy and they would come to him; stimulate them and they would be harmonious,’¹⁸ he was speaking of the master's virtuous nature.”¹⁹ For Chéng Yì, a critical part of the task of self-cultivation was using one's intellect to penetrate through to the underlying principles of different phenomena. Confucius' teachings captured the essential features of these principles in clear lessons and hence were an indispensable aid in self-cultivation. However, like most lessons, Confucius' teachings presented different degrees of difficulty. The most intelligent individuals readily were able to comprehend the principles behind his highest teachings: those concerning human nature and the Way of Heaven. But the majority of people found it exceedingly difficult to grasp such teachings; most were incapable of “hearing” them. According to Chéng Yì, this was the central point of Zigòng's remarks: “As for the line, ‘One cannot hear our master talk about human nature and the Way of Heaven,’ (among the disciples) only Zigong had grasped these principles. Thus he spoke this line, sighing in admiration of their beauty and saying that most people ‘cannot hear them.’”²⁰ Chéng Yì further claimed that there is a complex hierarchical structure to Confucius' teachings, each level representing a higher degree of conceptual difficulty.²¹ It would take time before those of less than exceptional ability could reach the highest levels and hear the teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven.

Let us now turn to Zhū Xī, who was deeply influenced by both the Chéng brothers, especially Chéng Yì. In his interpretation of Analects 5.13, Zhū borrowed from both. He adopted their commonly held view that Zigòng spoke these words just as he began to understand Confucius' higher teachings, and he shared Chéng Yì's emphasis on the need for gradual intellectual progress in a distinctive, hierarchical program of learning. Zhū Xī introduced several of his own ideas, as well. For example, he understood Confucius' wénzhāng as the master's personal displays of virtue, things such as his speech, conduct, and bearing. Zhū also had a novel reading for the second line of the passage. Chéng Hào believed one cannot hear the teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven because in principle these are beyond words. Chéng Yì argued that although the Master often discoursed on these topics, few could comprehend such complex and difficult teachings. Zhū directly contradicts Chéng Yì by claiming that Confucius “rarely spoke of these things.” Zhū Xī could appeal to two types of evidence to support this interpretation. First, Analects 9.1 tells us that there were topics about which Confucius “rarely spoke.”²² Second, the case can be made from negative evidence: the Analects contains no significant passages that concern the topics of human nature or the Way of Heaven.²³ In this regard, Zhū Xī's interpretation recommends itself on the strength of both textual consistency and comprehensiveness. It is well attested, original, and ingenious.

Elegant displays (wénzhāng) are exterior, visible manifestations of virtue. A dignified bearing and refined speech are good examples. Human nature is Heavenly principle, which all receive. … When Zigong spoke of the master's elegant displays, he was referring to what each day could be seen on the outside. Without doubt, these were things about which all the students had heard. But as for human nature and the Way of Heaven, the master rarely spoke of these. And so there were some students who had not heard about them. Now, as for the sage's teachings, one cannot skip over any steps. At this point, Zigong had just begun to hear about these teachings and sighed in admiration of their beauty.²⁴

An important feature of Zhū Xī's interpretation—one that he adopted from Chéng Yì—is the notion that Confucius' teachings consist of a number of discrete levels, each of which needs to be mastered before the next can be approached. According to this view, Zigòng's remarks provided a rough taxonomy of these stages. Elsewhere, for example in his introduction to the Great Learning, Zhū Xī tells us that these discrete levels of learning are keyed to specific texts and that there is a definite sequence to be followed in studying them.

My master, the philosopher Cheng Yi, says, “The Great Learning is a book transmitted by the Confucian school. It forms the gate through which beginners enter into virtue. That we can now perceive the order in which the ancients pursued their learning is solely owing to the preservation of this work, the Analects and the Mencius coming after it. Students must commence their course of study with this text; then it may be hoped that they will be kept from error.”²⁵

Zhū Xī argues that there is a proper sequence that one must follow in the course of one's studies, and he links different levels of Confucian teachings and specific topics to different texts. Our next commentator, the Qing dynasty thinker Dài Zhèn, perhaps influenced by this idea, identifies the Yijing as the text that contains Confucius' highest teachings: those on human nature and the Way of Heaven. Dài sees this as the key not only to Analects 5.13 but also to all of Confucius' thought.

Dài believed that Zigòng's distinction between what can and cannot be heard points to Confucius' unique contribution to the tradition of the sages. He argued that Confucius' teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven could only be found in the Yijing and that in this text Confucius reveals the “source” (the underlying principles) of the Way.²⁶ Earlier sages, who had held official positions and thus were responsible for the specific forms of culture, had produced the cultural ornamentations (wénzhāng), that is, the regulations, customs, practices and institutions of the Golden Age. However, Confucius—who was destined not to secure an official position from which he could himself implement the Dào—accomplished something even more profound and marvelous: he described the theory behind these practices. Striking a bold and new interpretive path, Dài Zhèn insists that one could “hear about” the wénzhāng that Confucius followed from any number of people. After all, the classics, which recorded such matters, were available to everyone. But one could hear about human nature and the Way of Heaven only from the Master. Dài Zhèn completely inverts the traditional understanding of Analects 5.13. At the same time, he expands Zhū Xī's hermeneutical principles of consistency and comprehensiveness. For Dài, these criteria extend to the entire corpus of texts attributed to Confucius and specifically to the appendices of the Yijing.

Dài explains all of this in the preface to his magnum opus, “Attested Commentary on the Meaning of Terms in the Mencius.”²⁷

In my youth, I read in the Analects the words of Duanmu (Zigong):²⁸ “One can hear of our master's cultural ornamentations, but one cannot hear of our master's teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven.”²⁹ Only after I had read the Yijing did I realize that there is where his teachings on human nature and the Way of Heaven can be found!

When the Way of the Zhou declined, Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, Wu and the Duke of Zhou's ideal method of government, which had shown forth brilliantly in their cultural ornamentations,³⁰ was abandoned and became a faded trace. Since Confucius did not secure an official position,³¹ he could not pass down this method in institutions, rites and music.³² Therefore, he set in order its basis and sought out its source, so that for countless generations the reasons for order and disorder and the proper standard for adopting or changing institutions, rites and music would be like a balance held up to determine light and heavy or like a compass, square or marking line are to the square, circular, level and straight. Though these teachings appear lofty and remote, he could not but teach them,³³ for when Confucius taught them, truly he taught what the former sages had yet to teach. Were it not for Confucius, from whom could we hear such things? This is why Zigong said, “these teachings cannot be heard.”

Dài understood the term wénzhāng to refer to the classical cultural forms that Confucius had preserved, followed, and transmitted. However, Dài believed Confucius' unique contribution to learning went beyond preserving and transmitting these cultural forms. Confucius alone had discovered and made clear the underlying principles upon which these cultural forms were based. Dài understood the distinction Zigòng makes in Analects 5.13 as describing practice versus theory. Earlier sages had build glorious palaces but Confucius alone provided us—and all future generations—with the blueprints for such palaces. The early sages had developed the ideal cultural language, but Confucius' unique achievement was to describe the grammar of this language. The Yijing is the repository of Confucius' most sophisticated theoretical teachings. And although one can hear about the practices of former times from any number of people, apart from Confucius, the theoretical principles that underlie these practices “cannot be heard.”

Dài was a master philologist and a great critic of “Song and Ming Confucians” (i.e., Neo-Confucians). What is less well understood is the relationship between his interest in philology and these criticisms. If we look carefully at the kind of books he wrote, this relationship and his philological interests in general become much easier to understand. This in turn can help us to appreciate more fully his unique interpretation of Analects 5.13.

Dài's complaint against Song and Ming Confucians was that they mistook their own subjective opinions for the objective and eternal values of the Way. He rejected their claim, made in various forms, that all people inherently possess and have access to moral knowledge. Instead, as mentioned above, Dài believed that the essential truths about the Way were inscribed by Confucius in a set of canonical texts, the classics. One made contact with this truth by coming to understand, in the most comprehensive and consistent manner, the meaning of these texts. In order to do this, one sought out and proved by example what each term in the text meant. In other words, one trained oneself to become a properly oriented, master philologist. The format of Dài's well-known essay, On the Good (Yúan Shàn), and his masterpiece, “Attested Commentary on the Meaning of Terms in the Mencius,” clearly manifest this orientation and demonstrate his method. For Dài Zhèn, then, philology was the method of philosophy.³⁴

In regard to his understanding of Analects 5.13, this orientation meant that Dài must reject Zhū Xī's gloss on terms like wénzhāng, which is poorly attested in the classical sources. Instead, he must search out the most philologically sound sense, the one with the clearest historical precedents. However, above all else, the most important aspect of Dài's project was to attain a comprehensive and consistent explanation of all the classics.³⁵ This is precisely what he produced in his various philosophical works, and this approach is reflected clearly in his interpretation of Analects 5.13.

The last commentator we shall consider is Zhāng Xúechéng. Zhāng joined Dài Zhèn in criticizing Song and Ming Neo-Confucians for their “subjectivism” and for introducing notions not present in the classical sources, such as the dualism between principle (l i) and ether (qì), into their interpretations of the classics.³⁶ He felt that such abstract metaphysical ideas tended to mislead people, causing them to turn away from the actual world (what is within form) and to seek for the Way in some insubstantial, metaphysical realm (what is above form) through regimens of meditation or speculation. As Dài had before, Zhāng pointed out that such notions were never a part of early Confucianism and in fact originated with the competing schools of Daoism and Buddhism. It was Zhāng's conviction that under the pernicious influence of these schools of thought, Neo-Confucians had radically misunderstood and misrepresented their own tradition.

Zhāng sought to eliminate these misunderstandings and return to the concrete, practical teachings of the Master. He insisted that Confucius himself never talked about obscure, abstract notions; he only discussed events in the observable, physical world, for this is where the Dào is—and nowhere else. Confucius would not even invoke examples from the real world unless they were solid and substantiated facts. Thus, although agreeing with Dài Zhèn in condemning the subjective and speculative notions of Song and Ming Confucians, Zhāng went a step beyond Dài by denying that Confucius ever engaged in devising an abstract theoretical system of his own. As a result of this philosophical orientation, Zhāng came to a very different understanding of Analects 5.13. He says,

Zigong said, “One can hear about our master's cultural ornamentations, but one cannot hear our master talk about human nature and the Way of Heaven.” Now of course everything the master talked about concerned human nature and the Way of Heaven. Yet he never indicated what these were in themselves by saying, “This is human nature or This is the Way of Heaven.” That is why Zigong did not say, “One cannot hear about human nature and the Way of Heaven” but instead said, “One cannot hear our master talk about human nature and the Way of Heaven.” Everything Confucius talked about concerned human nature and the Way of Heaven, but he never explicitly said what these were because he feared people would abandon the actual phenomena of the world in their search for the Way. Confucius could have talked about the rites of the Xia and the Yin dynasties but said that these were unsubstantiated and would not be trusted.³⁷ And so we see that in every case the master only talked about those things that could be substantiated in actual phenomena. He never vainly employed empty talk (kōngyán) in order to explain the Way.³⁸

Zhāng claimed that everything Confucius taught concerned the issues of human nature and the Way of Heaven and yet he insisted that Confucius never directly talked about these issues. Confucius never tried to abstract the Way from its true arena: the actual, observable world. Apart from the actual world, there was no human nature or Way of Heaven.

However, if this is Zhāng's view, why should later Confucians regard Confucius and the classics he preserved as in any way normative or privileged? If Zhāng is correct, should they not just turn to a study of the world in which they live? Zhāng would say “no,” but in order to see why we must consider briefly his particular view of the evolution of the Dào.

In certain respects, Zhāng's view bears a resemblance to Hegel's view of history, in which geist evolves through a series of necessary stages and reaches full form at a definite point in time. However, unlike Hegel, Zhāng saw this process culminating in the distant past, not in his own age, and understood subsequent history as the dissolution of this early grand unity. In these and other respects, he is more like the seventeenth-century historian George Horn than Hegel or even Vico. Zhāng had his own particular problems to solve. Whereas Hegel and Vico were looking for a comprehensive explanation of history, Zhāng also needed an account of the course of history that would justify the unique status of the classics and the preeminent position of Confucius.

According to Zhāng, the Dào evolved through necessary, successive stages and reached full flower in the culture of the Duke of Zhōu. Confucius, destined not to secure an official position from which he could implement the Dào, saw—as all sages do, according to Zhāng—his particular, historically conditioned imperative: to record precisely this unique moment in time and transmit his record to future generations. This, Zhāng tells us, is something Confucius “could not but do.”³⁹ Confucius was unique, not for being a more insightful sage or, as Dài Zhèn would have it, because he was its greatest theoretician, but for being that sage who was at the proper historical moment to carry out this invaluable task. The classics could never be replaced because what they recorded would never occur again. The Dào evolved to perfection only once. Confucius was unique not in being qualitatively or quantitatively different from earlier sages, but for being on the scene at precisely the right moment to see, understand, preserve, and pass on the Dào when it reached the peak of perfection.

Zhāng used this view of the Confucian tradition to criticize the scholars of his own age for mistakenly doing what Confucius did instead of studying what Confucius studied. Zhāng's contemporaries believed that they, too, must write down and pass on some teaching about the Dào, just as they thought Confucius had done. But this was a mistake. This blindly imitated Confucius' unique historical task. Instead, Zhāng argued that his contemporaries should study what Confucius studied, that is, history. In order to understand and follow the Dào, one must understand how it came to be, how it has functioned through time, and thereby what it requires of one in the present age. One must avoid the empty talk of speculative philosophy and study the Dao as revealed in the process of history. For Zhāng, the right kind of history—not philology—was the master discipline, the method of philosophy. Several of these characteristic features of Zhāng's thought are reflected in his understanding of Analects 5.13. He believed that although human nature and the Way of Heaven were never topics for speculative theorizing, they were precisely what Confucius did discuss, in the concrete circumstances of his own life and times.

CONCLUSION

We have seen how some of the most eminent representatives of the Confucian tradition at times disagreed—often deeply—over the interpretation of an important passage from the Analects, a passage that seems innocent in its simplicity. These disagreements often reveal deep, complex, and subtle philosophical differences. This shows that although the Confucian tradition is formed around a sacred canon and certain central themes it is not a set of fixed ideas handed down unchanged through time. Rather, the tradition is the accumulated record of a series of individuals who struggled to interpret a shared set of texts⁴⁰ in light of their different circumstances and times.⁴¹ In addition, this study serves to illustrate that an adequate understanding of Confucian philosophy requires that one understand the history of the tradition.

A sophisticated understanding of the depth and range of different interpretations within the commentarial tradition would enhance the work currently being done in the field of Confucian studies. First, it would raise important issues for the basic and profoundly undervalued task of translation. Many modern translations, both East and West, rely in an unsystematic way on a variety of different commentators.⁴² If a translator has a clear and comprehensive theory about what a given text means, then relying on different commentaries may be warranted and effective. But in the absence of a guiding theory, such a practice tends to produce translations that are montages of unrelated views. This may well contribute to the mistaken impression that Chinese thought is strongly unsystematic.

A full appreciation of the commentarial tradition would also help to reveal the richness and diversity of Confucian philosophy and the broad interactions and mutual influence it has enjoyed with other East Asian traditions. A further related benefit would be greater sensitivity to the degree to which our present understanding of certain earlier figures in the tradition is overly informed by later interpretations of their thought. For example, the metaphysical views that inform even the relatively early Hé Yàn commentary are arguably largely of Daoist origin, whereas the complex metaphysics of the Song Neo-Confucian commentaries are deeply and fundamentally influenced by Buddhist philosophy. Such later views, and especially Neo-Confucian interpretations, often are read back into early texts and presented as the views of the tradition's founders in much the same way that Thomistic readings of Aristotle at one time colored and perhaps still distort our understanding. A more thorough appreciation of the tradition may also help contemporary interpreters avoid reading classical Confucian thinkers as if they were advocating or groping their way toward our view of things. Such work has little if any historical support, scant philosophical interest, and sometimes rather dubious intellectual motivation.⁴³

We have just begun to distinguish clearly the challenging, distinct, and fascinating strata within the Confucian tradition. This essay is only one example of how such work can be done. Its primary point is that before we begin to read a text like the Analects we would do well to ask ourselves, Which Analects and Whose Confucius are we trying to understand?⁴⁴

Notes

1. In can be argued that Confucius himself began the commentarial tradition by his remarks on the meaning of certain passages from the Book of Odes. Mencius offered quite sophisticated interpretations of classical texts. I discuss this issue in some detail in my Ethics in the Confucian Tradition: The Thought of Mencius and Wang Yang-ming (Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1990): 96-99. For a fascinating study of commentarial traditions in both China and the West, see John B. Henderson, Scripture, Canon and Commentary (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1991).

2. For a remarkable view on how the work of modern interpreters might well require a form of commitment not wholly dissimilar to traditional commentators, see Charles Hallisey, “In Defense of Rather Fragile and Local Achievement: Reflections on the Work of Gurulogomi,” in Frank E. Reynolds and David Tracy, eds., Religion and Practical Reason, (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1994): 121-60.

3. Mengzi and Xunzi represent the first documented rift in the Confucian tradition. But perhaps the debate between the schools of Zhū Xī and Wang Yangming best represents the kind of disagreement I have in mind. Not only did the latter two argue over the meaning of individual passages and ideas, Wang also had radical doubts about the value of any classical text. For a brief discussion of this aspect of Wang's thought, see Ivanhoe, Ethics, pp. 102-12. Those who sought to reconcile disagreements within the tradition are also easy to find. Han thinkers such as Dong Zhongshu and Wang Bi are good examples, as is the Tang Confucian Han Yu.

4. For representative East Asian scholars see Li Youlían et al., trans., Lúnycu xīnyì (Tainan: Xinshiji chubanshe, 1969): 38; Yu Chong-ki, trans., Non-o, in Sa-so sam-kyong (Tong-a toso, 1980): 87; and Yoshida Kenkō (see note 7 below). For Western scholars, see Seraphin Couvreur, trans., Liun Iu, in Les Quatre Livres (Ho Kien Fou, 1895): 112; Arthur Waley, trans., The Analects of Confucius (George Allen and Unwin, 1938): 110; and D. C. Lau, trans., The Analects (New York: Dorset Press, 1986): 78.

5. Lúnyu Héshìděng jíjie 5.4a-b (SBBY).

6. Early Chinese thinkers tended to conceive of “non-being” as the primordial condition of the cosmos, a state in which things lacked definite and distinct qualities. It is not a state of nothingness but rather one of no-thingness. For a discussion of some of the important differences between early Chinese and Western views of being see Angus C. Graham, “Being in Western Philosophy Compared with SHIH/FEI and YU/WU in Chinese Philosophy,” (reprint) in Studies in Chinese Philosophy and Philosophical Literature (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1990): 322-59.

7. This distinction figures prominently in many of the commentators we will examine. One modern Japanese scholar, Yoshida Kenkō, suggests that the first line originally contained the character yán, as well. He argues that Confucius, who was interested primarily in practical moral education, regularly talked about issues of culture and only rarely discussed abstract philosophical notions such as human nature and the Way of Heaven. See Yoshida Kenkō, trans., Rongo, in Shinshaku Kanbun Taikei (Tokyo: Meiji Shōin, 1965), vol. 1, p. 111.

8. Describing the Way of Heaven as “original and pervasive” echoes the opening lines of the Yijing. Saying that human nature and the Way of Heaven are “deep and subtle” recalls the description of the Daoist sage given in chapter fifteen of the Daodejing.

9. The exact meaning of the term wénzhāng is difficult to determine. It could refer to Confucius' personal displays of culture. One finds evidence for such an interpretation in a passage that follows closely (Analects 5.15). In this passage, Zcigòng asks why an official named Kong was given the posthumous name the cultured (wénzi). But equally plausible is the idea that wénzi refers to the cultural forms of the Zhōu dynasty. One finds support for this reading in Analects 9.5, and elsewhere. These two interpretations can be seen as mutually compatible: Confucius was the repository of knowledge about this culture and he displayed it in his personal conduct. The commentators we will examine show no clear consensus on this issue. Other plausible interpretations exist, as well. For example, Líu Xíe (465-522) in the second chapter of his Wénxīn dīaolóng says that Confucius' wénzhāng is his style of composition (wéncí). Húang Kan (488-545) in his commentary on the Analects identifies wénzhāng as the six classical works (lìují). See his Lúnyu jíjie yìshù 3.10b.

10. From the Yijing, great appendix, sect. 1, chap. 12.

11. Hénán Chéngshì yíshū 11.12a, in Èr Chéng qúanshū (SBBY). The phrase “understand in silence” is from Analects 7.2.

12. The expression to attain a personal understanding of them (zìdézhī) refers to a personal realization of the Way. The expresson is found in Mencius 4B13 and 3A4. Cheng Hao may be playing on the words to get (dé) in the line, cannot get to hear of them (bùkědé ér wén) from Analects 5.13.

13. Wàishū 2.1b, in Èr Chéng qúanshū (SBBY).

14. Henan Chengshi yishu 11.11b.

15. Henan Chengshi yishu 12.1b.

16. Confucius does seem to claim that he held nothing back from his disciples. See Analects 7.23. But Waley's interpretation is persuasive. See Waley, Analects, p. 128.

17. Waishu 1.2b. This passage is not explicitly attributed to Cheng Yi, but judging from its content it surely belongs to him.

18. Quoting Analects 19.25.

19. Waishu 6.9b.

20. Waishu 6.4a. Thus, Cheng Yi takes wén (“to hear”) as a “success verb.” I owe this way of putting the point to Bryan W. Van Norden.

21. One can find support for such a view in the Analects, e.g. 19.12.

22. The interpretation of this passage is quite problematic. For a discussion see Legge's footnotes in James Legge, trans., Confucian Analects, in The Chinese Classics (reprint) (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1970), vol. 1, p. 216, n. 1. Also see note 16, above. For Zhu Xi's commentary, see Lúnycu 5.1a, in Sìshū jízhù (SBBY).

23. As mentioned earlier, except for Zigòng's remark in 5.13, the only other occurance within the Analects of the character xìng is 17.2. The compound tiāndào is not found anywhere else in the text.

24. Zhū Xī, Lúnyu 3.4a-b.

25. Translation adapted from Legge, Confucian Analects, p. 355.

26. Dài Zhèn may have made this association after reading the He Yan commentary, which, as mentioned above, makes reference to the Yijing.

27. I have followed Hu Shih's punctuated text. See the appendix of Dài Dōngyúan de zhéxúe (Taiwan: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1960): 37-38.

28. Duanmu is the surname of the disciple whose style is Zigòng.

29. As will become clear, Dai (like Cheng Hao) believed wénzhāng refers to the classical culture of the past Golden Age and not, as Zhū Xī would have it, to Confucius' personal displays of virture. Dai argued that wénzhāng came from the sages of classical times and not from Confucius, who did not fashion culture because he did not have an opportunity to rule or advise a ruler in an official capacity. Confucius' unique contribution was to preserve and transmit this culture and discover its underlying principles—something no one before him had accomplished. Here Dai seems to be echoing and elaborating on the views of Mencius. See Mencius 2A2.

30. Paraphrasing Analects 8.19.

31. Cheng Yi invokes Confucius “not gaining an official position” as the explanation for why he “transmitted but did not create” (Analects 7.1; cf. Doctrine of the Mean 30.1). See Henan Chengshi yishu 22A12b. For interesting precedents for this notion, see Analects 8.14, 14.27, and Doctrine of the Mean chap. 28. David S. Nivison discusses this issue in regard to Zhang Xuecheng, who seems to have followed Cheng Yi. See The Life and Thought of Chang Hsüeh-ch'eng (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1966): 149-50.

32. Dài Zhèn probably had in mind Doctrine of the Mean 28.2-3, which specifically states that such matters are the exclusive prerogative of rulers. See also Analects 8.14, 14.27, etc.

33. Dài Zhèn insisted that Confucius' Way was not something abstract or abstruse, so he is at considerable pains to explain why Confucius taught such theoretical works.

34. Professor Yu Ying-shih argues that philosophy and philology were competing interests of Dài's and that, in the end, he chose to pursue or at least emphasize the former. See “Tai Chen's Choice between Philosophy and Philology,” Asia Major, n.s., vol. 2, no. 1 (1989): 79-108. My own view is somewhat different. Because Dài believed the aim of philosophy was an understanding of the Dào that was in the classics, the right kind of philology is the very method of philosophy.

35. This point is made by Professor Yu in the course of his translation of Dài's writings. See “Tai Chen's Choice,” p. 84.

36. For a thorough study of the history of the concept of li see Wing-tsit Chan, “The Evolution of the Neo-Confucian Concept Li as Principle,” in The Tsing Hua Journal of Chinese Studies, n.s., vol. 4, no. 2 (1964): 123-49. As helpful as this study is in surveying the literture, it remains committed to the view that there is only one concept for terms of art like li. Thus the analysis often is different from my own understanding of the various uses of this term in the history of Chinese philosophy.

37. The reference is to Analects 3.9.

38. Yúan Dào 2.12a, in Zhāngshì yíshū, Líu Chénghàn edition (Wuxing: Jiayetang, 1922).

39. Ibid.

40. Even on this issue there was notable variation. The set of canonical texts grew over time and the importance of individual works varied in different periods within the tradition.

41. Alasdair MacIntyre presents an insightful acount of how traditions are best understood as temporally extended dialogues. See chapter 15 of his After Virtue (rev. ed.) (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), and Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1990).

42. In contrast to this unfortunate practice, ancient Indian texts, to this day, are almost always read according to a given commentary. (I owe this helpful point to an anonymous reader.)

43. An excellent discussion of this and related issues can be found in Richard Rorty, J. B. Schneewind, and Quentin Skinner, eds., Philosophy in History (reprint) (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 1-14.

44. The title of my work is taken from Alasdair MacIntyre's Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988). I share MacIntyre's conviction that even the most basic concepts of a given tradition can only be properly understood in terms of their historical context. However, I do not share what I call his “conquest model” of traditions: the belief that when different traditions come into conflict one will necessarily prove superior. This aspect of MacIntyre's analysis seems neither conceptually nor historically warranted. Ethical and religious traditions differ in this respect, at least from scientific traditions. In any case, it plays no role in my study. Although I believe that given an explicit interpretive goal (e.g. What was Zhū Xī's understanding of the text?) there are better and worse interpretations of the Analects, I am not arguing for any interpretation as definitive.