The Schoolmaster
1913
“The Duke of Zhou and Confucius are called Sages not because of their figure, birth or voices, but because of their immortal teaching which continues to shed our life with moral virtues,” the Schoolmaster said, “and we are not to think that the learning is done after reading and memorising their words. Rather, it is done when we embody the words and live by it, and this is the lifetime task of a scholar.”
The Schoolmaster paused, looking around the class. Twelve boys were sitting on their knees, as it was the norm. The youngest was eleven, and the oldest was twenty-three. I was in the median age of seventeen. We each had a woodblock printed copy of Great Learning with commentaries by Zhu Xi opened in front of us, everything in Chinese. It was the standard text to begin the secondary education where Neo-Confucian orthodoxy ruled supreme, including Korea.
I already knew the course of education that was to be followed: after Great Learning, we would proceed to The Analects of Confucius. Then Mencius and The Golden Mean would follow, and our education would consist of repeated reading and exegesis. There were more, the dreaded Five Classics and the infinite amount of poetry and history were waiting us, beginning with 300 Tang Poems and the Comprehensive Mirror to Aid in Government – believe it or not, the latter title is supposedly history. I looked at the text, feeling faint. I could make sense of some of the main texts, but the commentaries in the fine prints were stifling.
“Let’s begin with our first book then. The premise of Great Learning is to brighten the bright virtues, to make people anew, and to reach the highest Good. This is what makes Great Learning different from the book you studied before, Lesser Learning. While Lesser Learning’s concern was the guidance in the daily behaviour to help develop proper manners, Great Learning elevates it to the political level with the necessary theoretical foundation for the aristocrats…”
The problem was that the Aristocrats didn’t exist anymore, since the Annexation Treaty of 1910, three years ago. My father’s generation studied the same texts for the same goal which did not change for the past five centuries – to become the government bureaucrat and bring honour to the family. I doubted that the Governor General of Korea would still want a Confucian-trained mandarin in the new government. But the Schoolmaster was ever confident that the teachings of the Ancient Sages were unmistakably valid and truthful, regardless of the passage of time.
“Next line. After knowing there comes determinedness. What does this mean? Only those who have a clear knowledge of the teachings of the Sages can set up a proper goal, so they can pursue their moral developments further. As I have explained before, the merits of studying Great Learning is that it provides an outline for all your subsequent studies; after we finish this book, we will move on to study The Analects, and there you will attain this knowledge…”
Of course, the Schoolmaster had something to believe in. It has been two and a half millennia since Confucius, and his teachings provided the foundation of all the bureaucracies of China, and subsequently Korea. It did withstand the rise and fall of numerous dynasties. As he often said, “there can’t be no Emperor in the World as there can’t be no Sun in the Heaven, and as long as there is an Emperor there will be aristocrats.” He wasn’t pleased to see the Emperor in Tokyo usurping that of Peking, but still his fundamental beliefs remained unshaken.
“Next. After being determined there comes quietness. By ‘quietness’, it is meant that the will is unshaken and the resolution concrete. How can this be so? Because it is based on the true knowledge as it is transmitted to us by the Sages. People lose the peace of mind because their will is not directed to one ultimate end, but is diverted. Their mind is disoriented; they’re like the hunter who pursues too many animals at once. Surely, such a hunter cannot catch any game…”
I was sitting here. My parents believed in education, and so did I. I stopped attending his school since I attained the basic literacy in Korean and Classical Chinese, along with the books like Thousand Characters Classic, Lesser Learning, Treasure Mirrors to Brighten the Heart, etc: all children’s books. I stopped at this point because I doubted how useful such an education would be – my curiosity extended to the World that was moving, tumultuous, chaotic but alive. The books taught me to look inside – still, peaceful, orderly and dead.
“Next. After quietness one can be comfortable. What is being comfortable? By ‘comfortable’, it means the state where the false illusions of desires are removed from the mind. If there is no irrational desire to tempt the mind, surely one can rest in comfort. Still, to renounce all desires would be the Buddhist heresy – such a teaching is nihilist, and it is better to avoid them. The true teaching of the Sages teaches us to desire to be better men.”
I listened carefully to the Schoolmaster. Yes, that was why I still came back to my old Confucian instead of a Buddhist monk. The Confucians took pride in themselves that they were doing something meaningful in the World. They were the governors, bureaucrats, advisors to the King and farmers in youth and in retirement, or so they said. Their teaching was to produce just Lords and loyal Subjects. But where is the King? Our Emperor was dethroned, and I did not know if the Emperor of Japan was worthy of loyalty. It turned out there were more Emperors than the Mandate of Heaven in China.
“And next, after the comfort there comes wisdom. Now we need to consider the logical necessity between comfort and wisdom. We may think of it in three ways – first, the man who achieved the peace of mind is not distracted, and thus able to focus on his singular goal, which is wise. Second, such a man will continue to pursue to better himself, and become wiser in return. And third, such a man has a deep appreciation of the teaching of the Sages, and will be more enthusiastic to apply them in his own life, and this is wise as well.”
But the more important reason why I came back to my old Schoolmaster was because I didn’t know of any alternative. I don’t think I was the only one with this problem. Any one out of twelve of us would have felt the same way. And the wise Schoolmaster of twelve young men must have sensed it somehow. Either he was showing a great deal of self-control, or he was in denial. I didn’t know which would be the case, but I wanted to believe it was the former. The word virtue has more than simple moral connotation, it signifies power – and such was the premise of the Confucians. To be virtuous is to be powerful to resist the Evil. But I was feeling powerless.
“And this is the last part. After the wisdom there comes the gain. This is strange, why would Great Learning conclude the argument with gain? However, we should not think of this as a worldly gain, which is apparent from the previous logics. There is only one gain that is worthy for the wise man and that is only virtue.”
The Schoolmaster paused, looking pensive. Gain. Gaining of virtues, gaining of power. I had no ambition to climb the bureaucracy and serve the Mandate of Heaven; the power to live an independent life without shame would be sufficient for me. However, this proved to be more difficult than I ever anticipated. I came back to my Schoolmaster, having learned the difficulty the hard way, asking him to teach me more and make me virtuous. He was looking at each one of us, casting careful looks through his aged yet bright eyes.
“These steps are not meant to be taken as a step-by-step guide; it doesn’t mean you can’t be virtuous unless you have learned. They are rather to be taken as a demonstration of the logical necessity between them. Now, I shall let you go for today, and you will come back tomorrow after having the sentences memorised.”
1923
“The Duke of Zhou and Confucius are called Sages not because of their figure, birth, or voices, but for different reasons. The Duke of Zhou was a powerful statesman who served the young Emperor of Zhou. Although he had the power to overthrow the Emperor, he chose not to. This was a rational decision. His powers and honours were already next only to the Emperor who respected him, and he had little more to gain and much to lose had he thought otherwise. This is a wise man and the model for us in service of the Emperor…”
Ten years later, I was able to find a teaching job in a school found by the Jesuit missionaries. In the mean time, I studied French, mathematics, Christian and other Western thoughts. I received baptism, and I gained some respect in their school because I was able to deliver their ideas to the students in clear Japanese – the use of Korean was forbidden, except as a medium to teach Japanese. I have read a few books they showed me in French, and I was able to obtain a few Western books translated into Chinese and Japanese. The primary literary language among the literate Koreans was still Chinese, and there was a natural demand from the students that they should learn to read some Literary Chinese.
Apparently, I was the only teacher in the faculty who learned them as a youth; the other Korean instructor met the Jesuits earlier than I did, and he became fluent not only in French but also in English. Naturally it became his job to teach Western languages, and mine to teach Literary Chinese. We shared the elementary Japanese classes, and there were two other Japanese instructors to teach more advanced Japanese.
I was working with the colonialists in the school established by the colonialists. Sure, the people who dethroned our King were Japanese, not the Jesuits. And the Jesuits – along with the other types of Roman Catholics – were making useful changes in the country. They built schools and educated people. They even encouraged the Korean business owners to withstand the massive Japanese capital. But I still couldn’t help doubting their sincerity. They tried to abolish many of our customs, to shape our country after their image – such as our memorial ceremonies for the ancestors, they thought it was necromancy. I never understood the logic behind it.
“Let’s begin with our first book then. The premise of Great Learning is to brighten the bright virtues, to make people anew, and to reach the highest Good. Unlike Lesser Learning whose premise is to make you more obedient – say, to your parents and elders – the premise of Great Learning is to help you attain the Good. Virtue is another word for power and strength, and by making people anew it means building a great nation. The Great Learning is the book for the empire-builders, and we are precisely living in such an age to behold it happening, with the Empire of Japan…”
The missions left me the choice of what to teach and how. But there was an implicit agreement that I would not be causing any problem with the Governor-General. It was easy. I could simply modify a few words. The missions were surprised to see my willingness to comply, but what else could I do? They talked about the nation, patriotism and something called nationalism, but I never understood the precise relationship between nation and kingship.
“Next. After knowing there comes determinedness. Clearly, if you don’t know what you are doing, you cannot be determined in your actions, and hence you may become irresponsible. It’s not difficult to understand; a blind man cannot always be sure where he is going. This means you must use your reason to study things, gain knowledge and then act. This will bring you less mistakes and more chances to see your desired outcome…”
Reason. It was a beautiful word, coined by the Japanese translators to translate Western literature. I could not help but to use such words even in my commentaries on Chinese classics. My wise Schoolmaster would not have allowed such barbarism in his lectures. And while he explained in Korean, I was doing in Japanese. I was not even sure if I would be able to do the same thing in Korean. It mattered little, I tried to comfort myself. I told myself that our vernacular was not yet ready to discuss higher matters, and we have been using Chinese as our literary language. Be it Chinese, Japanese or French, it mattered little. But I couldn’t help but feel somewhat alienated from the typed text that I had in front of me.
“Next. After being determined there comes quietness. Have you ever seen an irrational man, who can’t work things out on his own, becomes frustrated and ends up drinking? If every man was educated in reason, there would not be such men on the street anymore. They will know what could be known, and they would use their reasoned faculty to pursue their goals, each in their own ways. They would not be frustrated because they lacked what was not ready for them, nor they would boast of what they achieved already because they always have higher goals…”
I was committing a parricide. I have changed one important part, which was to lead me to arrive at a conclusion that my Schoolmaster would never accept. While muttering relatively harmless words, I found myself a heretic, transgressed from the Orthodoxy of Zhu Xi. It was not because I was censored by the Japanese, the Japanese would not have cared whether I delivered the orthodox interpretation or not. In fact, being heterodox could attract their attention. I was feeling apolitical. I was not a man of virtue, after all.
“Next. After quietness one can be comfortable. Why would such a man be comfortable? Now, this is not a difficult question. Such a man of reason could concentrate his efforts to attain what he truly desires, and is not the fulfilment of desire the prerequisite of comfort? Whether it is noble or base, worldly or lofty, there is desire and the subsequent fulfilment of them is what brings satisfaction to our lives…”
I couldn’t confidently say that the virtue was the only goal worthy of pursuit. I knew I was not such a man, and the heretic emerged from my weakness. When I asked a related question to the missions, they quoted a man called Thomas whom they considered a Sage, and it was his teaching that the Evil was only the absence of Good, the powerlessness to be Good. While there were many of their thoughts that I did not understand, I readily understood this one.
“And next, after the comfort there comes wisdom. Isn’t it strange, that wisdom comes after having the desire fulfilled? But surely, you wouldn’t just stop there once you got what you wanted. You find a greater goal and pursue it. However, many people fail at this transition because they fail to learn from their previous pursuits. If you are rational, you will examine where you did well and where you did not, and wisdom is gained this way, only retrospectively. A great German philosopher called Hegel would confirm this as well…”
I was running out of my resources. My learning of the classics was shallow, and not sufficient to found a school like my Schoolmaster did. I didn’t have the credentials to teach the classics the way he did – and moreover, such schools were now decreasing in number, run by aging Schoolmasters like the one I had. When it comes to the Western learning, I found that I could teach them because there were not enough teachers. My knowledge was shallow in both kinds of learning, and I was to be a natural heretic – or heathen, as some Jesuits called.
“And we’re on the last passage for today. After the wisdom there comes the gain. Now, what would be such a gain? In order to answer this question, we need to consider what people desire in the first place. First they want food and shelter, and then family, children, status, fame, etc – and the premise of Great Learning is that the man who is trained to use reason can meet these ends much better than those who are not. People who are born in rich can fall into poverty, if their expenditure is not reasonable. Those born in poverty may ascend to wealth, and it is a demonstration of their reasoned decisions… Such was the view of the Englishman called Locke.”
I looked around the classroom. Instead of twelve boys sitting on their knees, there were more than fifty students, male and female, young and old, sitting on the desks. Instead of an authoritarian but benevolent Schoolmaster, there was my feeble self, weary of hunger and my unfulfilled desires. Instead of his clear discourse in refined Korean, there was my mumbling Japanese with obscure Western references to justify its worth to be heard. I missed my Schoolmaster; he would have had some words to better me – only if he was still alive.
“Although the primary purpose of this class is to develop literacy in Chinese so you can have access to the books in Chinese, it is still important to study the classics because even the contemporary books are all based on the same classics in terms of stylistic and idioms… That’s it for today. Review the passages for the next class.”
