勸學

The gentleman says: learning must never cease. Blue dye is extracted from the indigo plant, yet it is bluer than indigo; ice is made from water, yet it is colder than water. A piece of wood straight as a plumb line, when steamed and bent into a wheel, curves to match the compass, and even after drying out it will not straighten again — the bending process has made it so. Thus wood submitted to the plumb line becomes straight, and metal submitted to the whetstone becomes sharp. If the gentleman studies broadly and daily examines himself, then his understanding will be clear and his conduct free of error. Therefore without climbing a high mountain, one does not know the height of heaven; without gazing into a deep ravine, one does not know the thickness of the earth; without hearing the inherited teachings of the former kings, one does not know the greatness of learning. Children of Gan, Yue, Yi, and Mo are born with the same cries, yet grow up with different customs — education makes them so. The Odes say: 'Ah, you gentlemen, do not rest constantly at ease. Quietly fulfill your offices and love what is upright. When the spirits hear of it, they will bestow upon you great blessings.' No spiritual transformation is greater than absorbing the Way, and no lasting fortune is greater than being free from disaster.

I once spent an entire day in thought, but it was not as good as a moment of study. I once stood on tiptoe to gaze into the distance, but it was not as good as the broad view from a high place. When you beckon from a height, your arm is no longer than before, yet people see it from farther away. When you shout downwind, your voice is no louder than before, yet it is heard more clearly. One who borrows a carriage and horses does not have faster feet, yet can travel a thousand li. One who borrows a boat and oars does not have the ability to swim, yet can cross great rivers. The gentleman is not different by birth — he is simply skilled at making use of external things.

In the south there is a bird called the mengqiu. It builds its nest from feathers, weaves it with hair, and ties it to the tip of a reed. When the wind blows, the reed breaks, the eggs shatter, and the chicks die. The nest is not poorly made — the problem is what it is attached to. In the west there is a plant called shegan, with a stem only four inches long, yet it grows on top of a high mountain and overlooks an abyss of a hundred fathoms. The stem cannot grow longer — it is its position that makes this so. Mugwort growing among hemp needs no support to stand straight; white sand placed in black mud turns black along with it. The root of the orchid-like plant is angelica, yet if soaked in foul liquid, the gentleman will not approach it and the common person will not wear it — not because the substance is not fine, but because what it has been steeped in makes it so. Therefore the gentleman must choose where he lives and must associate with scholars, in order to guard against deviation and draw close to what is correct.

Pile up earth to form a mountain, and wind and rain arise from it. Accumulate water to form a deep pool, and flood dragons are born in it. Accumulate good deeds to build virtue, and spiritual clarity comes of itself, and the mind of a sage is fully prepared. Therefore without accumulating half-steps, one cannot reach a thousand li; without accumulating small streams, one cannot form the Yangtze and the sea. A fine horse cannot cover ten paces in a single leap, yet a worn-out nag pulling a cart for ten days achieves its goal through never stopping. If you carve and then give up, even rotten wood will not break; if you carve and never give up, even metal and stone can be engraved. The earthworm has no sharp claws or strong sinews, yet it eats the dust above and drinks from the underground springs below — because its mind is focused on one thing. The crab has six legs and two pincers, yet without a snake's or eel's burrow it has nowhere to lodge — because its mind is scattered. Therefore without deep and persistent intention, there is no brilliant clarity; without steadfast and painstaking effort, there is no splendid achievement. One who walks crossroads never arrives. One who serves two masters gains no acceptance. The eye cannot see two things clearly at once; the ear cannot hear two things sharply at once. The flying serpent has no feet yet soars; the parasol-tree rat has five skills yet is helpless. The Odes say: 'The turtledove is in the mulberry tree, and her young are seven. The good man, the gentleman, his bearing is consistent. His bearing is consistent — his heart is as though tied in a knot.' Therefore the gentleman binds himself to unity of purpose.

Where does learning begin? Where does it end? I say: in terms of its curriculum, it begins with reciting the classics and ends with studying ritual. In terms of its purpose, it begins with becoming a scholar and ends with becoming a sage. Truly accumulating effort over a long time, one enters into it deeply. Learning continues until death and only then stops. Therefore the curriculum of learning has an endpoint, but its purpose must not be abandoned for even a moment. To pursue it is to be human; to abandon it is to be a beast. The Documents record the affairs of government; the Odes are where proper sound comes to rest; ritual is the great pattern of law and the guiding principle of all categories. Therefore learning reaches its culmination in ritual. This is what is called the pinnacle of moral virtue. The reverent patterns of ritual, the harmonious balance of music, the breadth of the Odes and Documents, the subtlety of the Spring and Autumn Annals — everything between heaven and earth is encompassed therein.

The gentleman's learning enters through his ears, lodges in his heart, spreads through his four limbs, and manifests in his movement and stillness. In his careful speech and gentle movements, every aspect can serve as a model. The petty person's learning enters through his ears and exits through his mouth. Between mouth and ear is only four inches — how can that be enough to improve a seven-foot body? The ancients studied for their own sake; today's students study for the sake of others. The gentleman's learning improves his own person; the petty person's learning is merely offered up as tribute to others. Therefore to volunteer information when no one has asked is called presumption; to answer two things when asked about one is called garrulousness. Presumption is wrong; garrulousness is wrong. The gentleman responds like an echo — only when called upon.

No method of learning is more effective than being close to the right person. Ritual and music provide models but do not explain themselves; the Odes and Documents record the past but are not immediately relevant; the Spring and Autumn Annals are concise but not rapid. But if one draws close to a worthy person and learns the gentleman's teachings, then one's understanding becomes both elevated and comprehensive, encompassing all the world. Therefore I say: no method of learning is more effective than being close to the right person. The fastest path in learning is to admire such a person; exalting ritual comes next. If one cannot manage to admire such a person at the highest level, nor exalt ritual at the next level, then one merely accumulates miscellaneous knowledge and follows the Odes and Documents by rote. In that case, even to the end of one's life, one will never escape being a narrow pedant. If one wishes to trace things back to the former kings and ground oneself in benevolence and duty, then ritual is the very warp and woof, the paths and byways of that endeavor. It is like grasping a fur coat by its collar — press down with five fingers and shake it, and the hairs that fall into line are beyond counting. To disregard ritual as one's guide and rely only on the Odes and Documents is like trying to measure a river with one's finger, or pound grain with a halberd, or eat soup with an awl — it simply cannot be done. Therefore one who exalts ritual, even if not yet fully enlightened, is a principled scholar; one who does not exalt ritual, however sharp and eloquent, is merely a scattered pedant.

To miss once in a hundred shots is not enough to be called good archery. To fall one half-step short of a thousand li is not enough to be called good driving. To fail in understanding categories and analogies, or to be inconsistent in benevolence and duty, is not enough to be called good learning. Learning is fundamentally about achieving unity. To be in one moment and out the next is to be a common person of the street. Those whose good is little and whose bad is much are in the class of Jie, Zhou, and Robber Zhi. Only those who achieve completeness and thoroughness deserve to be called learners. The gentleman knows that what is incomplete and impure is not sufficient for excellence. Therefore he recites and enumerates to thread it all together, reflects and ponders to penetrate it, embodies it in his person to dwell in it, and eliminates what harms it to nurture it. He makes his eyes desire to see nothing else, his mouth desire to speak of nothing else, his mind desire to contemplate nothing else. When he reaches the point of loving it with utmost devotion, his eyes love it more than the five colors, his ears love it more than the five sounds, his mouth loves it more than the five flavors, and his heart finds it more profitable than possessing the whole world. Therefore neither power nor profit can topple him, the masses cannot sway him, and nothing in the world can shake him. He lives by this and dies by this — this is called moral constancy. With moral constancy one can be settled; once settled one can respond to anything. To be both settled and responsive — this is called a complete person. Heaven reveals his clarity and earth reveals his light. The gentleman values this completeness.