by Ying-shih Yü
“unity of knowledge and action” cannot be realized in a world in which princi ple
and ether are bifurcated.
From the point of view of internal interpretation, however, a further ques-
tion inevitably arises, namely, how is the transformation from quietism to ac-
tivism in Neo- Confucianism itself to be accounted for? It would not do simply
to refer it to external stimulation. For in the fi nal analy sis, it still takes some
in t e l le c t ua l t r a nsi t ion in s e v e n t e e n t h - ce n t ury c h ina 361
essence in Neo- Confucianism to respond to stimulation. I think the answer
must be sought in the very nature of the Confucian Dao (including, of course, its
Neo- Confucian variant). As we all know, from the very beginning, the Confucian
Dao is supposed to function in two major areas of human activities, which have
been traditionally identifi ed as “sageness [or sageliness, as Professor Yü trans-
lates it elsewhere— Eds.] within and kingliness without.” Or, as more clearly rede-
fi ned by the seventeenth- century Neo- Confucian scholar Shao Tingcai
(1648–1711), the Dao functions “outwardly to put the world in order and inwardly
to nourish man’s nature and feelings.”7
When the Neo- Confucian movement began in the tenth and eleventh centu-
ries, it began with the high hope “to put the world in order.” It was largely the
frustrating experience of the failure of Wang Anshi’s reforms that turned
Neo- Confucianism inwardly toward the realm of “sageness within.” 8 Yet the basic
Confucian impulse to reorder the world was always there and waited for a better
opportunity to reemerge. Marx once said, “Phi los o phers have only interpreted
the world in vari ous ways, but the real task is to alter it.” Here, of course, Marx is
referring to Western phi los o phers. In the case of Neo- Confucian phi los o phers,
rather the opposite is true; they always considered it their real task to activate the
Dao in order to alter the world. The profound po liti cal and social crisis at the end
of Ming provided them with an opportunity to perform this task. Viewed in this
light, it is only natu ral that a fundamental inner transformation from quietism
to activism took place in seventeenth- century Neo- Confucianism.
By late Ming times, po liti cal and social de cadence had reached such a degree
that it was no longer pos si ble to contain the Confucian impulse to reorder the
world in the realm of ideas. As a result, it broke out in large- scale social actions,
as exemplifi ed by the Donglin and Fu She movements. In his study on the Fu
She, Atwell shows clearly that the central purpose of this literary society was “to
revive ancient teachings, so that future generations will be able to provide use-
ful ser vice [for the country]” (346). As Atwell rightly observes, “to revive the
ancient teachings . . . was not a call for a blind, archconservative attempt to re-
store ancient institutions,” but to “make creative use of the lessons of the past to
solve con temporary prob lems.” However, since the revival of “ancient teach-
ings” centrally involved the Confucian classics, it must be noted that the Fu She
was also genuinely concerned with the scholarly qualities of classical studies,
which reached the lowest point at the end of Ming.9 In this regard, the Fu She
was actually following the example of the Donglin. Gu Xiancheng
(1550–
1612), in a statement of purpose written for the Donglin group, listed “honoring
the classics” ( zunjing
) as one of the four essentials.10 In its own day, the Fu
She
was nicknamed “the Ju nior Donglin
” not only because many of
its members were sons and grand sons of Donglin martyrs but also because the
former was a spiritual heir to the latter.11 The diff erences between the Donglin
and the Fu She resulted mainly from the fact that the two groups were active in
diff er ent times.
362 in t e l le c t ua l t r a nsi t ion in s e v e n t e e n t h - ce n t ury c h ina As Atwell’s study shows, the Fu She, like many other Ming literary socie ties,
including the original Ying She
, was able to attract a large number of fol-
lowers because of the valuable ser vices it rendered to the candidates in passing
the provincial and metropolitan examinations. The literary socie ties not only
selected and edited model bagu (eight- legged) essays for publication (in collabo-
ration with bookstores) but also provided their members with expert bagu criti-
cisms. The growth of the Fu She to a membership body of over three thousand
apparently owed a great deal to its remarkable rec ord of examination successes.
However, it was not the purpose of the found ers of the Fu She to promote exami-
nation success as such. On the contrary, their original purpose was to breathe
new life into the then much degenerated bagu style, which had, in the course of
time, become increasingly alienated from the teachings of the Confucian clas-
sics.12 A central aspect of their eff ort to revive the “ancient teachings” was to
combine genuine classical scholarship with the writing of the bagu essays.
Take the Ying She, the pre de ces sor of Fu She, as an example. One of its proj-
ects related to studies in preparation for the examinations was to divide the
members into fi ve small groups, “each of which did detailed research on one of
the Five Classics. They then held meetings, exchanged information, and ulti-
mately published collections of essays based on their fi ndings” (339). As Zhang
Pu
(1602–1641), a founder of both the Ying She and the Fu She, explic itly
stated, “When the Ying She was founded, it set as its ultimate goal to honor the
classics and revive the ancient teachings.”13As Atwell says, the Fu She leaders
believed that “social and po liti cal reform depended upon improvements in edu-
cation” (347). This is true enough, but it may be further concluded that they
also believed that improvements in education depended on a creative combina-
tion of the examination system with what Zhang Pu calls “the wisdom embod-
ied in the Classics” (345). Indeed, if we take Neo- Confucian metaphysics to be a
high culture, then the bagu writings may very well be regarded as its popu lar
counterpart. The fact that Neo- Confucianists now shifted their focus of atten-
tion from metaphysics to the bagu is a vivid illustration of a new tendency in
late Ming thought, which stressed what de Bary calls “the actualities of life and
the immediacy of the pres ent” (196).14
Atwell’s study further contributes to our understanding of the Ming- Qing
intellectual transition by relating the Fu She to the new Neo- Confucian em-
phasis on “practical statesmanship” ( jingshi zhiyong
). It is particularly
impor tant that our attention is called to the compilation of the monumental work
entitled Huang Ming jingshi wenbian
(Illustrious Ming Dynasty
Documents on Statecraft) by Chen Zilong
(1608–1647) and others in 1638
(348). The idea of jingshi (lit. “ordering the world”) is so central to Confucian-
ism that it is practically interchangeable with that of “kingliness without�
�� in
meaning. With the rise of Neo- Confucian activism since the late Ming, it had
become a value shared by virtually all thinkers. In this sense, it would be very
misleading to speak of jingshi as a school in the early Qing.15 This new empha-
in t e l le c t ua l t r a nsi t ion in s e v e n t e e n t h - ce n t ury c h ina 363
sis on jingshi or, rather, setting the world right, must also be understood as an
integral part of the intellectual transition, because it arose directly from a new
conception of Dao. Since Song times, the Confucian Dao has been generally
defi ned in terms of a bifurcation between ti (substance) and yong (function). In
Ming Neo- Confucianism, the substance of Dao was mainly conceived as a self-
suffi
cient metaphysical real ity of a moral character, which nevertheless gener-
ates a function of unlimited creativity. Therefore, it can be assumed that the
function of Dao necessarily implies “ordering the world” ( jingshi), at least in
theory. However, since the central concern of Ming Neo- Confucianists was
rather “how to become a sage,” the function of Dao was in actual practice only
confi ned to the realm of moral cultivation of the self and never reached into the
external world. In the seventeenth century, there was a fundamental shift in
emphasis from inwardness to outwardness with regard to the nature of Dao.
When Gu Yanwu
(1613–1682), an outstanding member of the Fu She,
spoke of “illuminating the Dao” ( ming Dao
) and “saving the world” ( jiushi
), he was clearly talking about the Confucian Dao that can set the world
right, not a metaphysical real ity to be perceived through introspection.16 Else-
where he further remarked, “I deci ded not to do any writing unless it had a rela-
tion to the actual aff airs of the con temporary world as indicated in the Six Clas-
sics.”17 Thus, according to Gu, social utility or practicality was in the very nature
of Dao as embodied in the Confucian classics. As a matter of fact, the Song-
Ming bifurcation of Dao in terms of ti and yong was rejected outright as a Bud-
dhist concept. It is in ter est ing to note that Li Yong and Li Gong, though very
diff er ent in intellectual orientations, arrived at the same conclusion that the
ti– yong
duality was non- Confucian in origin.18 Li Yong was in complete
agreement with his friend Gu Yanwu when he said that if we must maintain
the tiyong distinction, then the genuine Confucian ti consists in “illuminating
the Dao,” whereas the real Confucian yong consists in “putting the world in or-
der” ( jingshi
).19
This discussion, I believe, serves well to illustrate the above- quoted state-
ment of the Fu She “to revive ancient teachings so that future generations will
be able to provide useful ser vice [for the country].” From the point of view of
internal interpretation, the idea of jingshi may be shown to have been inherent
in the Neo- Confucian transition from quietism to activism. Early in the six-
teenth century, Zhao Zhenji
(1508–1576), a member of the Taizhou
school, already planned to compile a historical work entitled Jingshi tong
(A Comprehensive Study of Ordering the World).20 Li Zhi
(1527–1602) of
the same school also created a new biographical category of jingshi in his com-
prehensive history, the Cangshu
(A book to be hidden away).21 Slightly
later, Feng Yingjing
(1555–1606), a friend of Matteo Ricci, edited an en-
cyclopedia called Huang Ming jingshi, shiyong bian
(Practical
Ming Documents on Statecraft) in 28 juan. Feng’s encyclopedia was highly in-
fl uential in bringing the idea of jingshi to Neo- Confucian consciousness. Li
364 in t e l le c t ua l t r a nsi t ion in s e v e n t e e n t h - ce n t ury c h ina Gong particularly praised the work for its combination of ancient Confucian
learning with con temporary practicality.22 Judging by the title, it is more than
probable that Chen Zilong’s Huang Ming jingshi wenbian was compiled under
its infl uence. These instances not only confi rm a recent observation that the
rise of classical studies in the early Qing may have been partially related to
the jingshi trend of the late Ming but also enable us to date the beginning of the
trend more precisely in the second half of the sixteenth century.23
Fi nally, in connection with the jingshi trend, mention must also be made of
Wing- tsit Chan’s careful analy sis of the Cheng- Zhu school in the early Qing, an
aspect that has been unjustly neglected in most modern studies of the intellec-
tual developments of this period. Chan’s detailed examinations of the contents
and arrangements of Li Guangdi
(1642–1718)’s Xingli jingyi
(Essential meaning of nature and princi ple) has led him to discover that, among
other things, it “put matters of practical concern ahead of matters of abstract
interest” (561). Li’s treatment of the Great Ultimate has been cited as an illustra-
tion, which indicates a clear shift from abstract matters to the concrete. More
impor tant, Li Guangdi was by no means the only Cheng- Zhu scholar to show
such a shift in intellectual orientation. On the contrary, the whole Cheng- Zhu
school in the early Qing moved in the direction of “putting the world in order
and practical application ( jingshi zhi yong).” Lu Shiyi
(1611–1672), an emi-
nent leader of the school, expressed the jingshi spirit most vividly when he
said that, as quoted by Chan: “The Six Classics are not the only things people of
today should study. They must study astronomy, geography, river works and
irrigation, military craft, etc., which are all of practical use. Vulgar scholars who
talk about nature and destiny with an air of superiority are of no help to the
world.” Chan is right in pointing out, “the spirit of practical application was in
the air” (564). Chan’s fi ndings have fi rmly established the fact that, like the
new emphasis on qi in Neo- Confucian metaphysics, the jingshi trend also cut
across the sectarian lines of the Cheng- Zhu and Lu- Wang schools.
The intellectual transition of seventeenth- century Neo- Confucianism eventu-
ally landed in what is commonly called kaozheng
(evidential investigation)
of the Qing Period, which stressed, among other things, philological explications
of classical texts. (For con ve nience, I shall simply follow David S. Nivison by
referring to it as Qing philology.) At fi rst glance, Ming metaphysics and Qing
philology have almost nothing in common except that both share the same
Confucian ancestry. It is precisely for this reason that the rise of Qing philology
has been interpreted as a negative reaction against Ming metaphysics. I have
dealt with this prob lem extensively elsewhere and come to see more continu-
ities than discontinuities in terms of the “inner logic” of this Neo- Confucian
development.24 Now, the two case studies by Edward T. Ch’ien and Willard J.
Peterson also throw new light on the prob lem.
Ch’ien’s study is in ter est ing because it sets as its central task to deal with
“th
e apparent contradiction of Jiao Hong
(1540–1620) as a left- winger and
in t e l le c t ua l t r a nsi t ion in s e v e n t e e n t h - ce n t ury c h ina 365
as a pioneer of Qing critical scholarship.” More signifi cantly, it suggests “the
possibility of the left- wing Wang Yangming School of Mind being a positive
source from which the early Qing development of Han Learning may properly
be viewed as a logical outgrowth” (276). As a left- winger, Jiao Hong, as Ch’ien
shows, was essentially a Neo- Confucianist with a strong tendency toward syn-
cretism. His readiness to embrace Buddhist and Daoist ideas clearly indicates
the great infl uence of both his teacher Luo Rufang
(1515–1588), who was
thoroughly versed in Buddhism and Daoism, and his friend Li Zhi, who fi g-
ured centrally in the late Ming movement of the so- called “ union of the Three
Teachings in one” ( Sanjiao heyi
). As a pioneer of Qing philology, Jiao
Hong was among the earliest Neo- Confucianists of the late Ming to advocate a
linguistic approach to the Confucian classics. Jiao Hong said, as quoted by
Ch’ien, “The Book of Odes [Shijing] should be discussed in terms of its sound
and the rest of the classics should be understood by way of their language”
(292). Ch’ien concludes:
Jiao Hong synthesized his Buddhist- and Daoist- tinged concept of the
Way as ineff able truth with his basically Confucian valuation of learning,
and established in his thought a philosophical pluralism which, together
with his stress on the self’s in de pen dence and the mind’s autonomy, led
logically to his rejection of the authority of Cheng- Zhu orthodoxy and to
his advocacy of linguistic analy sis as a method for the direct study of the
classics. His pioneering in critical scholarship is thus deeply rooted in
the philosophy of the Taizhou school. (296)
I am somewhat puzzled by this statement. If by “linguistic analy sis” and “criti-
cal scholarship” the author is referring to Qing philology (the Han Learning),
then I must confess that I fail to see its “logical” connectedness with Jiao
Hong’s “philosophical pluralism” or “the philosophy of the Taizhou school.”
In the fi rst place, it was precisely on the ground that “the Buddhist- and Daoist-
