Guancheng Shuji

Author: Xu Wenjing
Editor-in-Chief: Li Yuankai
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 1998-02-01
Features: Xu Wenjing, styled Weishan, was from Dangtu, Anhui. He was born in the sixth year of the Kangxi reign of the Qing Dynasty (1667 AD) and lived to be over ninety years old, though his exact death year is unknown. Xu’s official career was limited; he struggled as a scholar and only passed the provincial examination at the age of fifty-seven. In his seventies, he was recommended by Gan Sima for the Imperial Examination of Scholars with Outstanding Talent, but failed the final exam. Thus, he had to find solace in writing, as he said, “Heaven granted me hardship to enable me to write” (from his Thirty Poems of Lake Dwelling, included in the Zhi Ning Tang Collection). Later, his works were noticed by the Academician Zhang Pengchong and presented to the Emperor in the ninth year of the Qianlong reign. In the seventeenth year, the Governor of Anhui again recommended his works in Confucian studies. The Qianlong Emperor, impressed by his advanced age, health, and dedication to learning, appointed him as a Hanlin Jiantao.
Xu Wenjing’s writings include Guan Cheng Shuo Ji, Shan He Liang Jie Kao (14 volumes), Zhi Ning Tang Cao (also known as Poetry and Prose Collection) (4 volumes), Yu Gong Hui Jian (12 volumes), Zhu Shu Ji Nian Tong Jian (12 volumes), Huang Ji Jing Shi Kao (3 volumes), and Tian Wen Kao Yi (1 volume). Guan Cheng Shuo Ji is a compilation of his reading notes over the years and is his masterpiece. It examines classical texts, challenges traditional commentaries, and touches on various subjects, offering rich materials and well-supported arguments. The book has been published in several editions: the Qianlong ninth-year edition, the six works of Xu Weishan, the Siku Quanshu edition, and the Guangxu second-year edition. This edition is based on the Guangxu edition, with references to the other three. Citations have been corrected where necessary, with notes indicating changes (corrections based on the Qianlong edition are not noted). Avoided characters and obvious errors have been directly corrected. Prefaces and postfaces by others have been moved to the end of the book, along with appendices such as Fan Xiangyong’s copy of the Qing Shi Guo and the Siku Quanshu Zongmu Tieshu.
The editor, Fan Xiangyong, being elderly and frail with poor eyesight, only made preliminary annotations. The remaining work had to be completed by the editorial team, and any errors are kindly pointed out by the readers.
Editorial Department of Zhonghua Book Company
July 5, 1988
Excerpt:
25. Bian Xiang: The superior man brings order to the affairs of the state but does not dare to judge cases. The Bian Xiang commentary states: “Ordering the affairs of the state refers to minor matters. Judging cases refers to major matters.”
Commentary: The Yuanzi says, “Judging cases requires meticulous examination but avoids excessive scrutiny. If one relies on excessive scrutiny to fabricate charges and conceal the truth, it is called daring. If one dares to judge, the people will suffer unjust deaths. Those who do not dare to judge are not because they refuse to judge but because their hearts remain open and their governance is compassionate. In not daring to judge, they demonstrate the clarity of state affairs. Not daring to judge, judging cases like a mountain—this is the essence of Bian Xiang.”
26. Fu: Repeating the way, seven days until renewal. The Bian Xiang commentary states: “Since the You Guo hexagram first appeared in May with one yin, it takes seven transformations until one yang returns, which is the natural course of heaven. Thus, its divination is ‘repeating the way, until seven days, one will renew.’”
Commentary: Kongzi’s explanation says, “Chu Shi and Zhuang Shi both mention: ‘In May, one yin appears, and by the eleventh month, one yang appears—seven months in total. It is said ‘seven days’ instead of ‘months’ because it emphasizes the rapid growth of yang.’”
Another commentary: Anshi’s Poetry Says states, “They say ‘seven days, nine months,’ while here it is ‘the first and second days.’ Why? When yang appears, it is said in days; when yin appears, it is said in months. This is like the Yi saying that in the eighth month of the Lin hexagram, there is danger, and in the seventh day of the Fu hexagram, there is renewal. Kun represents pure yin, the hexagram of the tenth month. The number of yin reaches its limit at six, and the seventh is the beginning of yang’s return, the first yang being the initial yang. Thus, it is called ‘seven days until renewal.’ The Fu hexagram is the opposite of the Pei hexagram. Turning the Pei hexagram upside down becomes the Fu hexagram. Repeating the way is the interplay of yin and yang.”
27. Does Fu reveal the heart of heaven and earth? The Bian Xiang commentary states: “Shaozi’s poetry also says, ‘At the halfway point of the winter solstice, the heart of heaven remains unchanged. When the first yang moves, all things are yet unborn.’”
Postscript: Reading the books of the ancients and feeling that there is nothing more to question—this is precisely when one cannot discuss the classics with them. Those who love the past and trust the sages, accumulating doubts to seek truth in order to advance toward the sage’s way—this is the duty of a scholar. Is this not the purpose of Xu’s Guan Cheng Shuo Ji?
The Shuo means substantial and great. The Yi says, “Diligent and substantial, radiating brilliance.” It also says, “Learn from the words and deeds of the past to cultivate virtue.” This is the meaning of shuo. This record examines the Yi, Shi, Shu, Chunqiu, the three rites, and their commentaries, from astronomical instruments to mountains and rivers, as well as the works of the hundred schools. Whenever something is questionable, it is exhaustively investigated and referenced. Starting with the words of the ancients, it adds cases to elucidate meaning and records facts to verify them. It extensively quotes from books, gathering rare texts, ensuring that each statement is both correct and profound, leaving no room for doubt. This truly makes it a substantial record.
I have always believed that scholars should read with a calm mind to weigh the truth, rather than picking flaws in others to boast of their own strengths. Yet, texts and commentaries, historical accounts and matters, may be passed down falsely, leading beginners to accept them as truth and causing future harm. What can be done? The ancients meticulously checked books but sometimes went to extremes, as in the so-called “Leftist’s blinding spots,” “Gu Liang’s disabilities,” and “Gongyang’s strict adherence.” Others, like the needle-wielders and the discoverers, corrected errors. Works like the New Tang History correcting mistakes and the Zizhi Tongjian distinguishing errors, or Xiao Yan’s Rectifying Errors and Correcting Customs—these seem to hold themselves in too high regard while blaming others too openly.
Now, simply calling it Guan Cheng Shuo Ji, its corrections and compilations of ancient opinions, dispelling doubts and embracing truth, without daring to impose personal views—this is not to boast about one’s understanding of the classics. I believe it aligns with the teachings of the sages and may advance the way. Yet, some may doubt it, comparing it to Yang Xiong’s Local Dialects, annotated by Gu Jingzhen and prefaced by him, as a rare and unalterable masterpiece. Yet, Yang Xiong himself said, “My heart is vast and substantial.” The poem Song Gao says, “Jifu composed odes, his poetry vast and substantial.” These were all self-proclaimed as substantial. Why doubt Xu?
Xu had long been dedicated to writing, and his works like Yu Gong Zheng Fa and Shan He Liang Jie Kao had long been celebrated. Thus, I am even more convinced of his love for the past, his accumulation of doubts, and his pursuit of truth. I joyfully took up my brush to write this preface.
On a lucky day in the second month of the second year of the Qianlong reign, under the auspices of the year Dingsi, I, a relative and disciple, Jia Jiahang, wrote this at my home in Yan Shan.
Xu Weishan of Dangtu, my fellow examinee, was deeply devoted to the past, knowledgeable in all books, and left behind a legacy of writings. In the Gengmao year of the Yongzheng reign, he passed the provincial examination at the age of forty-three and was known as the “ Shut-Door Scholar.” Thus, wherever he traveled, people sought his wisdom, and his door was always full. I, though earning a modest salary and drowning in paperwork, always admired him as a towering figure, and it has been twenty years since then.
In the first year of the Qianlong reign, an edict was issued to select scholars with outstanding talent. I secretly rejoiced, thinking, “In the east of the Yangtze, there is Xu, who must be among the selected.” And indeed, he was recommended. Though the Imperial Library and Stone Chamber were still empty, his fellow scholars celebrated, and the world rejoiced—enough to be remembered for generations.
Now, Xu enjoyed the divination of “vast fruits” and used “sunlight to illuminate the withered.” He employed the Guan Cheng to explore the profound and summarize the essence, covering the Yi, Shi, Shu, Chunqiu, the three rites, and their commentaries, as well as history, philosophy, and miscellaneous collections. He meticulously searched for evidence to resolve disputes and accumulated them day by day, month by month, into the thirty volumes of Guan Cheng Shuo Ji. Readers may now seek meaning by the text, examine pronunciation by the characters, and find clarity in their mouths and minds, dispelling ancient confusion and resolving worldly doubts. There is no greater joy in reading than this.
As for his efforts in textual criticism, it is like sweeping leaves—whenever you sweep, they fall. Or like brushing dust—whenever you brush, it rises again. Until the rain stops and the wind clears, the sky is washed clean, the sun high above—such moments are rare, and the work of textual criticism is complete! Without reading ten thousand books, how could his research be so meticulous? Reading this, it is like sailing the vast sea with a guide—here, I briefly add a few words.
If a book does not align with the sages or benefit future scholars, even if published, it is just a useless jar. I have often sighed that readers only skim the surface, seeking no deep understanding. Even those who delve into ancient texts often twist and fabricate, forcing interpretations. This has been the case with the commentaries on classics, histories, poetry, and miscellaneous works, passed down in error for a long time. My father, Xu Weishan, from a young age was extraordinary, reading ten lines at a glance, deeply immersed in classics, and meticulously researching. Whether mountains, rivers, plants, or animals, though numerous, he examined them with precision and discerned them with care. When scholars debated, or when doubts and beliefs conflicted, he dared not take things lightly. Today’s doubts were corrected over time, and the confusion in this work was resolved by other books. Everything is based on solid evidence, titled Guan Cheng Shuo Ji. Readers will find clarity in their mouths and minds. How great is his contribution to the sages and benefit to future scholars? Publishing it to spread its legacy—truly an unalterable masterpiece!
Though I am unworthy, I was fortunate to join his disciples and saw him in Danyang, carving a small garden, planting flowers and trees for rest and reflection. By candlelight, as dawn and dusk passed, he read and annotated every day. The profound words of the sages deeply resonated with him, unlike those who skimmed the surface, twisting and fabricating without resolution—how vast is the difference! Without overestimating my limitations, I added a few words after the completion of the printing, as a token of my connection to the lofty aspirations of the sages.
My son-in-law, Hu Ningcang, respectfully inscribes this.
The transformations of heaven and earth, the complexities of ancient and modern records—none can be enumerated. When one understands clearly and expresses it in writing, naming it to pass on to scholars—holding a few inches of brush, searching for the extraordinary and hidden, exploring the vast and embracing all—this is the work of the Guan Cheng. Gathering the wisdom of the past, startling the ignorant and deceiving the wise, seeking a single word to open the minds of generations and resolve doubts—this is often difficult.
Literature of the pre-Qin, Jin, and Wei dynasties often valued brilliance and magnificence. The Han Dynasty was renowned for its Confucian scholarship, though speculative opinions were abundant. The Tang Dynasty emphasized imperial examinations, with scholars competing in literary styles. The Song Dynasty’s commentaries on classics, outside Zhou, Cheng, Zhang, and Zhu, had many works but also much confusion. In the Ming Dynasty, the schools of the hundred schools were divided, and few works were truly unalterable. Other works, like those on calligraphy and painting or on flora and fauna, were even more difficult to judge.
A scholar wishes to express his thoughts, cross-examine and verify, to create a great work for his generation. If it does not benefit earlier scholars, it is not easy to be recognized and pass down to future generations. Though proud of his erudition, he should not suppress others with overly verbose and self-righteous words. Moreover, the love of for horses and for stones was not just for horses and stones. The discerning use them, the forgers do so with hearts. Broaden and accumulate, choose and recognize—though horses and stones, my learning is transmitted through them.
Xu Weishan’s Guan Cheng Shuo Ji—I do not possess his learning but trust its transmission. Thus, I write this.
In the second month of the second year of the Gengxu reign, I wrote this from the south window of my villa, He Tingshu, the late disciple of the Cui Luo Academy, respectfully inscribes this.
My elder brother, , reads all books without rereading them three times, understanding the great and subtle meanings. His works like Yu Gong Zheng Fa and Shan He Liang Jie Kao had long been popular. Scholars longed to meet him, and his doors were always full of visitors seeking knowledge. In the first year of the Qianlong reign, the Grand Secretary Gan Gong of Fuxin and the Imperial Secretary Sun Gong of He River recommended him for the Imperial Examination of Scholars with Outstanding Talent, and the world celebrated. The Academician Zhang Nanhua once wrote a couplet for him: “Inheriting the old learning of the family, the sages seek his wisdom; his new poetry is spread by all mouths.” This was a true evaluation. After returning south in the Dingsi year, he shut himself in to write, refining his earlier works into this thirty-volume work, titled Guan Cheng Shuo Ji. All disputes in classics, history, and miscellaneous works were resolved without error, truly an unalterable masterpiece.
My late father, the elder Shanyuan, after retiring from office, compiled Jing Yan Ru Shi (20 volumes), which he was about to hand over for printing, combining it with the Hua Xie Yi Ji, promoting the six classics and the hundred schools, a great achievement!
In the first month of the first year of the Qianlong reign, I, the son-in-law Mao Dapeng, respectfully inscribes this.