Abstract： This paper attempts to make a full exposition of the “spiritual joys of Confucius and Yan Hui” in Chinese intellectual history. It begins with an analysis of Yan Hui’s reticent but meditative disposition， what Yan found his joy in and for what reason. After laying out the outward character and inward motivation behind Yan’s personality， the author concludes that Yan’s “joy” is not due to anything like mysticism in the Western sense. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui can be accounted for neither by an intellectual intuition nor a rational mysticism， but an emotional-rational mystery. As a peak experience， such spiritual joys could be defined as an integral harmony of the mind that crosses into shamanism， quasi-religion， supra-moral sensibility， and pan-aesthetics. The spiritual joys of Confucius and Yan Hui represent the unity of sensibility and rationality （enjoyment of music and the happiness found in the Way being one） on the one hand， and the unity of the a priori and the a posteriori （the unaroused and the aroused human feelings） on the other. It is a unitary world， real but mysterious. Rather than go back to Zisi， we would go back to Yan Hui’s spiritual realm， for his joy is more realistic but reticently enjoyable， so as to revive the true spirit of Confucius.
　　Keywords： Confucius and Yan Hui’s spiritual joys， mysticism， emotional-rational mystery， return to Master Yan
　　The Temperament of Yan Hui [Refer to page 5 for Chinese. Similarly hereinafter]
　　Yan Hui 顏回 （521–481 BCE）， style name Ziyuan and alias Yan Yuan 颜渊， was a native of the state Lu active during the final years of the Spring and Autumn period. Yan Hui had been Confucius’s most devoted disciple， who was not only emotionally dependent on his master， but undoubtedly was more akin to Confucius in terms of mentality and praxis. It was the Song Confucians that first used the phraseology “Kong-Yan le chu” （孔颜乐处）i to sum up what Confucius said of Yan Hui in praise of him， to refer to the fact that Confucius and Yan Hui had similar pleasurable things to do， their likings were the same， and they had shared aspirations or ideals in their intellectual pursuits. In the following discussions I shall use passages from Confucius’s Analects as core textual evidence and documents about Yan Hui in later textual materials as marginal supporting references to figure out a basic representation of Yan Hui as Confucius’s disciple.
　　A basic projection of Yan Hui’s personality traits can be derived from the teacher–student conversations between Confucius and his disciples as recorded in the Analects. Yan Hui is represented as an enigmatic person of few words and quiet disposition. At the same time， we are impressed by his earnestly practical and honest character. Let’s start with his honesty， which has the following features： 　　First， he was reticent but by no means slow of wit. Confucius said， “I can speak with Yan Hui for an entire day without his raising an objection， as though he were slow. But when he has withdrawn and I examine what he says and does on his own， it illustrates perfectly what I have been saying. Indeed， there is nothing slow about Yan Hui” （Analects， 2：9）. Yan Hui’s reticence， or even silence， far from suggesting that he was a mere receptor of the Master’s teachings， implies he got to “know ten by learning one thing” （5：9）. So， what else did he need to say？
　　Second， Yan Hui loved learning and was good at meditating. Commenting on his students， Confucius said， “There was one Yan Hui who truly loved learning. Unfortunately， he was to die young. Nowadays， there is no one” （11：7）. On other occasions， Confucius praised him， “There was one Yan Hui who truly loved learning. He did not take his anger out on others; he did not make the same mistake twice” （6：3）. In addition to his love of learning， Yan Hui had a forgiving heart but often engaged in self-reflection to avoid repeating mistakes.
　　Third， he was of an introverted but firm character. When the Master asked his students to tell him their prospects， Yan Hui merely said， “I would like to refrain from bragging about my own abilities， and to not exaggerate my own accomplishments” （5：26）. However， his word meant his deed.
　　Fourth， Yan Hui was firm of will. The Master said， “With my disciple， Yan Hui， he could go for several months without departing from benevolent （ren 仁） thoughts and feelings; as for the others， only every once in a long while， might benevolent thoughts and feelings make an appearance” （6：7）. Yan Hui had a remarkable personality trait in that whatever he took faith in， he would steadfastly adhere to， as is commended by Confucius， “If there was anyone who listened with attention to what I had to say， it was surely Yan Hui” （9：20）.
　　Yan Hui， devoted as he was in practicing ritual propriety （li 禮）， professed an unfailing determinedness， as he pledged to Confucius， “Though I am not clever， allow me to act on what you have said” （12：2）. If we make a comparison between him and Zeng Shen 曾参 （505–436 BCE）， who was more apt to engage inwardly in self-reflections， we could see a more active personality in the latter. Zeng Shen said， “The Way （dao 道） of the Master is doing one’s utmost （zhong 忠） and putting oneself in the other’s place （shu 恕）， nothing more” （4：15）. Again， he said， “Where they take benevolence as their charge， is it not a heavy one？ And where their Way ends only in death， is it not indeed long？” （8：7）. Zeng Shen’s proactive attitude sets a striking contrast with Yan Hui’s introverted self-restraint. Owing to their different dispositions， Confucius gave various answers to their questions about ren （humanity， benevolence， or authoritative conduct）. To Yan Hui’s inquiry on what to do to be benevolent， the Master replied， 　　Through self-discipline and observing ritual propriety one becomes benevolent in one’s conduct.
　　Do not look at anything that violates the observance of ritual propriety; do not listen to anything that violates the observance of ritual propriety; do not speak about anything that violates the observance of ritual propriety; do not do anything that violates the observance of ritual propriety. （12：1）
　　Admittedly， Yan Hui also impresses us with his mysterious habit of reticence and stillness， which I will discuss at length when analyzing his pleasurable experiences. Actually， practical honesty and quiet reticence do not come into conflict in his personality. On the surface of it， both can be found in a person of few words but who concentrates his or her attention to dealing with things at hand. Apart from this attentiveness， a person of benevolence is able to experience an inward joy of his or her own， for all the predicaments that may apparently afflict him or her. Only a person with a firm will and determination is capable of such inner joys. People with firm beliefs tend to be quiet and reserved rather than aggressively boastful or fussing about. Externally apparent quietude must be anchored in an internal， spiritual fulfillment. In a word， Yan Hui’s practical honesty lays the basis for his reticence. By steadfastly following ritual propriety and the benevolent conduct of the benevolent person， one can attain the lofty spiritual realm of spontaneous joy.
　　The Confucius Family Discourse [孔子家語] contains these comments on Yan Hui： “He has four merits in doing things like an exemplary person： strong when upholding righteousness， meek when being remonstrated with， uneasy when being rewarded， and cautious when self-cultivating.” And these largely agree with the descriptions of his earnest， honest， and down-to-earth sincere traits in his character. The Master also spoke of Zichan 子产 （ca. 580–522 BCE） as possessing four virtues of an exemplary person： “He was gracious in deporting himself， he was deferential in serving his superiors， he was generous in attending to needs of the common people， and he was appropriate （yi 义） in employing their services” （5：16）. Obviously， Zichan is meritorious for his ability in government politics and proper rule for the people. In comparison， Yan Hui was inwardly disposed to seek a virtuous heart-mind， an inner cultivation of his personality.
　　However， we cannot argue on this basis that Yan Hui followed a path of moral internalization， much less say that he took an approach characterized by the later heart-mind philosophy. In fact， Yan Hui was considerably concerned with external ritual systems. Yang Rur-bin 杨儒宾 makes the point when discussing Zhuangzi： 　　Interpretations of the Zhuangzi in history tended to slip toward the poles either of a qi-theorization or of the heart–body explanation . . . since we indeed read such words as xinzhai 心齋 （fasting of the heart/mind）， zuowang 坐忘 （sitting in oblivion with a pacified mind） . . . and other efforts of mental training， all of which lead to a mysterious intellectual–spiritual realm of returning to the Great Way.
　　Interestingly enough， according to the description of Zhuangzi， a successful practitioner of both xinzhai and zuowang was Yan Hui. He not only had the abilities for the required efforts of cultivation， but also his abilities were oriented toward a mystic state of mind with Daoist coloring. Guo Moruo 郭沫若 （1892–1978） even held the view that the Zhuangzi passages on xinzhai and zuowang had originally been Confucian instructions from Yan Hui but were excerpted in the Zhuangzi as quotes. Therefore， it is no surprise if Confucians like Yan Hui were invested with a disposition of Daoist mysticism. However， if Yan Hui’s ideas are interpreted with later doctrines such as the substance of human nature and mind， Daoist transformation， or the gongfu of self-cultivation， we might go to the other extreme of Yan Hui’s reticent meditation， which is inconsistent with his practical and honest character.
　　To put it bluntly， the temperament of Yan Hui can be a balance between the poles of earnest practicality and reticent quietude. Though his joys were felt in quiet reticence， they were nevertheless founded on a solid base of earnest practicality. The two traits are not contradictory， and curiously， they were perfectly fused in Yan Hui’s peculiar temperament.
　　What Kind of Joy Did Yan Hui Experience？ [7]
　　Direct reference to Yan Hui’s joy in the Analects can only be found in a passage of Confucius’s praise of him： “The Master said， ‘Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui！ With a single bamboo dish of rice， a single gourd dish of drink， and living in his mean narrow lane， while others could not have endured the distress， he did not allow his joy to be affected by it. Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui’” （Analects， 6：11; Legge）.ii Confucius’s own joy is expressed in this remark， “With coarse rice to eat， with water to drink， and my bended arm for a pillow， I have still joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honors acquired by unrighteousness are to me as a floating cloud” （7：16; Legge）. The two passages are often quoted together： in the former， Yan Hui’s “joys not being affected，” and in the latter， Confucius “having joy in the midst of these things [that he did].” 　　When Zhu Xi 朱熹 （1130–1200） was instructing his students， an association between the two places of “joy” was discovered. For example， one student asked him， “Confucius and Yan Hui were definitely different in their respective spiritual status and duty. Could they have had the same joy， after all？” Another asked， “Speaking of [Yan Hui’s] ‘joy not being affected’ and of Confucius ‘having joy in the midst，’ which of the evaluations was weightier？” These questions admitted the qualitative sameness of Confucius’s and Yan Hui’s joys， but at the same time they revealed their quantitative differences. Zhu Xi made a reply to the first question that avoids it by shifting the object of query： “Do not ask such questions concerning Confucius or Yan Hui， but direct such questions to yourself.” To the second question， he replied， “While the sage master had forgotten his own person altogether， his pupil， Yan Hui， still had his person in mind.” Zhu Xi’s explanation is that Confucius’s joy is devoid of bodily experience， leaving only the purely intellectual joy of the mind playing with moral principles. It seems that Zhu Xi acknowledged the disparity between master and pupil in terms of intellectual depth， but Zhu Xi also said， “as their joys are similar in their major lines， they are hardly distinguishable in depth，” somewhat inconsistently.
　　From a holistic perspective， Yan Hui’s “joy not being affected” and Confucius’s “still having joy in the midst of these things” are substantially the same spiritual joys， but there are still differentiations to be made between their mental states and spiritual attainments. If one’s joy is “not affected，” one should have had some sort of joy in the first place， which can remain unaffected in adverse circumstances. Confucius found his own joy in simple and even unpleasant things; he never found it necessary to change it because it had not been intentionally procured; Yan Hui， for his part， had to seek a joy that he was never to change， and so he actually had to seek it intentionally beforehand. Moreover， if one’s joy is “not affected，” it must be in conformance with one’s moral codes， for “sages rest peacefully in material scarcity but joyfully in the company of the Way; they do not injure life with desires， nor burden it with benefits.” It may be seen that Yan Hui’s realm of joy is still some distance from Confucius’s， for he must first find himself in some regularity of observance before he can get the joy of moral freedom. 　　Simply put， to have a “joy unaffected” means to find a joy first of all and to never change it. This is not the pessimism of taking misery for happiness， nor the religious piety of finding joy in hardship. It is a kind of optimism native and unique to Chinese culture.
　　Confucianism differs considerably from some religions in that it does not see any joy in poverty itself. The latter， taking human poverty， martyrdom， and pain as God’s will， find happiness in enduring these sufferings， to the extent that some willfully seek to suffer pains， to maltreat themselves， so that they may get salvation and resurrection. Confucians never believe in that， and their highest aspiration consists in such mystic joy as “the human in unity with Heaven.”
　　With Confucius， who “still had joy in the midst of these things，” his joy need not be procured from outside but within what he is engaged in. A Confucian joy does not consist in fulfilling an external purpose of religious faith in any pantheist or personified gods. He finds his joy in this world of reality， not in an extraneous world to be discovered. He does not seek to build a Kingdom of Heaven in this worldly life， but to try to attain the union of Heaven and the human in the worldly realm.
　　Based on literature currently available， the earliest mention of Yan Hui and his joy was found in Yang Xiong’s 揚雄 （53 BCE–CE 18） Fayan or Exemplary Sayings [法言]：
　　Yangzi said， “The happiness of one who holds a position in government is not as good as Yan Yuan’s happiness. Yan Yuan’s happiness [came from] inside [himself]; the happiness of one who holds a position in government [comes from] outside [himself].” Someone said， “May I ask what comes from inside oneself when one is always poor？” Yangzi said， “If Yan did not have Confucius， even if he possessed all under Heaven， it would not have been sufficient to make him happy.” The other said， “But he still suffered， did he not？” Yangzi said， “Yan’s suffering lay in the height of Confucius’s profundity.” Startled， the other said， “Well then， was this suffering not just the reason he was happy？”
　　The paragraph above demonstrates a simple view of Yan Hui’s joy by the Han Confucians.
　　First of all， in terms of quality， Yang Xiong divided a person’s happiness into internal and external forms. And Yan Hui’s is an inner happiness， but success with official positions could only give one outer happiness. The difference does not mean that the former is spiritual while the latter is material. They only differ in the degree or intensity of joy， that an outer happiness does not give one as much happiness as an inner one. Second， in terms of quantity， joy and happiness are not quantifiable. One’s enjoyment of beautiful things is hardly measurable， and one’s deep happiness at receiving ritual elegance is unfathomable. Third， the passage discusses what constitutes the happiness that comes from inside oneself when one is always poor （屡空之内）. He Yan 何晏 （190–249） in his collected explanations said， “Yan Hui was approaching the Way of sagelihood， and though his expectation repeatedly fell short （空匮）， he felt happy in feeling that kind of inadequacy.” But if we take his feeling of falling short as “empty” in the Daoist sense of the void， we would be missing the point. Lastly， it touches on what Yan Hui felt painful about. Yan Hui was bothered by his inability to attain Confucius’s ultimate joy. It was a painful insatiableness that Yan Hui paradoxically delighted in feeling. 　　If it was an initial deviation for Han Confucians to take Yan Hui’s pain as the cause of his happiness， then Neo-Confucians of the Song dynasty might be wide off the point with their exegesis of the subject. Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 （1017–1073） provides an explanation with his “happiness of sincerity” （诚者之乐）， which means one is happy if one is sincere to one’s heart. Cheng Yi 程颐 （1033–1107） accounts for Yan Hui’s joy by his propensity to be happy with the Way. Cheng does not quite agree with the view that Yan Hui was actually happy with the Way， but tends to believe that Yan sought happiness in following the Way. According to the Song Neo-Confucians， the word 乐道 has departed from the plain and simple sense of “being comfortable with poverty and happy with the Way” as understood in the preceding eras. Cheng Hao 程顥 （1032–1085）， who attributes both Confucius’s and Yan Hui’s joys to their benevolence， is much closer to the literal reading of the Analects：
　　Benevolence is to be sought in one’s own person， and so what does one have to worry about？ What causes worry and anxiety must be outside oneself， those that one craves outside one’s person. That is why it is stated in the Book of Changes， “[they] submit themselves to the will of Heaven and are content with their fates， therefore， they are carefree.” If anyone else happened to be in Yan Hui’s scanty existence with a bamboo dish of rice or gourd dish of drink， he must have felt much distressed. Yan Hui， however， alone found joy in it because of his benevolence.
　　There is the question of how to distinguish the Way and benevolence， a question that had been posed by the disciples of Zhu Xi. If the different wordings， “enjoying the Way”
　　（乐道） and “joys of the Way” （道乐）， mark the difference between the Way and benevolence， then the latter case “joys of the Way” is identified with the joy of benevolence， which in turn raises the question of the difference between “enjoying benevolence”
　　（乐仁） and “joy of benevolence” （仁乐）. Zhu Xi tried to answer these questions with his “thoroughness of self-training efforts.” He said， “It is not that one chooses to enjoy benevolence， but that only benevolence could make one joyful. Only when one possesses benevolence， which frees one from selfish thoughts， can one feel some joy in whatever circumstance.” It can thus be seen that the joy of Confucius and Yan Hui is a “joy of benevolence，” happiness derived from benevolence （rather than “enjoying benevolence”）. And that was precisely what the Master had originally meant， and it could as well account for “joy of the Way” （rather than “enjoying the Way”）. 　　Cheng Hao struck a link between the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui and their “submitting to the will of Heaven and being content with their fate，” but Zhu Xi and his students found that “the plain word ‘joy’ is extraordinary， for to know it one must work at self-cultivation， and through long-lasting efforts one will naturally get to know it.” What if it is to be explained by Zhu Xi’s theory of “the Way of Heaven and the human nature and destiny”？ Zhu Xi consigns the issue to the debate on the principle of Heaven versus human desire. His arguments are founded on three preconditions： First， he brings the principle of Heaven into play as the object of joy， that is， “the universal flow of the principles of Heaven”; Second， he removes human desire from the scene， that is， “Yan Hui had removed his selfish desires before he felt joy.” Third， he eradicates the human body as well， for one could only know such joy after one has forgotten one’s bodily person. Eventually， while attributing such joy to the moral mind of the Way on the one hand， Zhu Xi emphasizes the importance of human efforts of cultivation on the other. The human mind not only has to know the principle but also practice it in earnest work. In his way of expounding the issue， Zhu Xi has distanced himself from both Confucius and Yan Hui. If his theory could be called an advance， it would be an advancement by digression rather than returning to the origin.
　　The Joys of Confucius and Yan Hui and the
　　External Features of Mysticism [10]
　　William James （1842–1910） proposes to approach mysticism by external observation， which rather more accurately catches some of the morphological features of mysticism. If we compare these features with external observations of the peculiar joy of Confucius and Yan Hui， can we determine it to be some sort of mysticism？
　　According to James， mysticism is marked by four external features： （1） ineffability; （2） noetic quality; （3） transiency; and （4） passivity.
　　First， ineffability. Mysticism is ineffable in that some mystic experience is defined in the form of a negative statement， which points to the object of reference but lacks the corresponding terms of a given language to define it. As a result， mystic things can only be intuitively experienced by individuals but cannot be verbally instructed or communicated to others. “In this peculiarity mystical states are more like states of feeling than like states of intellect.” The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui， though indescribable in the precise terms of language， can be conveyed and communicated to other people. Zhu Xi and his disciples had done that with discussions of their various forms. If their joys are characterized by personal experience， are they then more likely states of emotions than states of the intellect？ The joy of Yan Hui that Confucius approved of is in a state similar to both feeling and intellect. It is not the sort of purely aesthetic ecstasy of mystical experience， but a more stable state of mood; at the same time， though it cannot claim to be a purely intellectual awareness of rationality， it nevertheless contains some inner feeling with a depth of insight. 　　Second， noetic quality refers to the presence of reason， intellect， and abstracted thought. “Although so similar to states of feeling， mystical states seem to those who experience them to be also states of knowledge. They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect.” Mystic states do not consist of pure feelings， but are joined by some states of intellect which are by no means the discursive intellect. We find this to be appropriate for describing the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui， but as far as Confucian experiences in general are concerned， they are more inclined to a dual state of moral and aesthetic experience. Therefore， it is quite apt to say that Confucian joy is intellectual to some extent， though it lacks any meaning-laden illumination and revelation， nor is it instructively authoritative for predicting the future.
　　Third， transiency. “Mystical states cannot be sustained for long. Except in rare instances， half an hour， or at most an hour or two， seems to be the limit beyond which they fade into the light of common day.” In between the two intervals， however， they may continue to evolve and give the experiencer an inner richness. This feature is contrary to the case of Confucius and Yan Hui’s joys. Yan Hui was of an emotionally stable disposition， and his joy was also resilient and lasting， and that is why he could stay in the same joyfulness without having to make a change. In contrast， mystic states， in the fashion of an artist’s inspirations， come over one all of a sudden and last for a brief moment before one returns to the ordinary. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui were experienced and sustained in their everyday affairs and never parted from daily life.
　　Fourth， passivity. Mystic state resemble inspirations， “yet when the characteristic sort of consciousness once has set in， the mystic feels as if his own will were in abeyance， and indeed sometimes as if he were grasped and held by a superior power.” And this feature is probably diametrically opposed to the case of Confucius and Yan Hui’s feeling of joy. The Confucian joy must be voluntarily sought with a will for moral virtue， and after attaining the unity of beauty and the good， the volition is neither halted nor suspended， but is transformed into a loftier realm of freedom. The Confucian joy， therefore， is not the kind of peak experience in which the human is seized by a religiously mystical sensation， but a peak experience where the religious， the higher-order moral senses， and an in-depth aesthetic are connected into a unity. 　　Obviously， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui do not conform to the external features of mysticism， and so they should not be classified as any kind of mysticism. In spite of this， however， their joy is quite close to mystical experiences in terms of their inherent qualities. Probably they had come from the shamanism of remote antiquity， and not from any religious traditions like （inward） Daoism and （outward） Buddhism. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui， after all， retain some mystic traits， though they are not a species of mysticism. Rather， they are a species of quasi-religious or de-deified religious spiritual experiences.
　　The Joys of Confucius and Yan Hui and the
　　Inherent Qualities of Mysticism [11]
　　Walter T. Stace’s （1886–1967） Mysticism and Philosophy is a major work on mysticism from an extroverted philosophizing rather than introverted experiential perspective. Different from James who studies mysticism by describing its externally attributed features， Stace looks into the intrinsic character of mystical experiences by studying their inherent qualities.
　　Stace classifies mystics and their experiences into two major types， “the extroversive and the introversive types of experience.” The former is spontaneous while the latter inquisitive. Their distinction is in some way like the “sudden awakening” versus “gradual cultivation” division in Chinese Chan Buddhism. Undoubtedly， Confucians tend to enjoy their pleasures quietly like still water that runs deep， but not the fiery passionate type， for Confucians have traditionally clung to a ritual constraint of emotional feelings. In other words， they tend to experience a joy of an intellectual rather than an emotional nature. And this is not typical of Yan Hui， whose meditative profundity obviously was not as deep as Zisi’s， as the latter was himself a philosopher of his own school. Moreover， Confucius and Yan Hui seemed to have attained their joys midway between the “sudden awakening” and the “gradual cultivation” methods of Chan Buddhists， but on the whole they tended to belong to the latter， for moral cultivation takes time to make incremental progress.
　　Whether of the extroversive or introversive type， the kernel experience of a mystic is of the same nature. Thus we find ourselves back on the topic of the “unity of the myriad things” （萬物一体）：
　　The whole multiplicity of things which comprise the universe are identical with one another and therefore constitute only one thing， a pure unity. The Unity， the One， we shall find， is the central experience and the central concept of all mysticism， of whichever type， although it may be more emphasized or less in different particular cases， and sometimes not even mentioned explicitly. . . . It belongs to the experience and not to the interpretation. 　　Both the Unity and the One describe our experience of the human in unity with the multitude of beings， an intuitive perception and understanding on our part. And so are the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui， as well as those described in Zhuangzi’s “uniformity of all things，” which are all mystic experiences of the same sort. To conclude， Confucian and Daoist joys， both being streaked with mystic traits， can neither of them be defined in terms of mysticism.
　　Mystical as they are， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui do not tally with the inherent traits of mysticism， either of the extroversive or introversive type. According to Stace， the extroversive type of mysticism is marked by two essential features： （1） the unifying vision， expressed abstractly by the formula “All is One”; and （2） an inner subjectivity. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui were found in their pursuit of the unity of Heaven and the human， or Heaven and the human forming one body， but the joys are not merely physical sensations， but are experiences contributed by moral and intellectual judgment. Therefore， they are different from extroversive mysticism. The core features of introversive mysticism include： （1） unitary consciousness; （2） non-temporality and non-spatiality. The unitary consciousness of mysticism can surely be found in the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui. But with the “void and empty unity，” without temporality and spatiality， this feature is contrary to the Confucian joy which was firmly rooted in the realities of their lives. The wording “having joy in the midst of these things” or “having joy therein” implies a content rich in the real experiences of life， rather than any metaphysical void or emptiness. Besides， their joys were realized in the actual time-space of lived life， and there is no need for anything that transcends time and space. Therefore， their joys are not characterized either by non-temporality or non-spatiality.
　　To sum up， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui cannot lead to mysticism， nor can they be situated within mysticism. However， their joys nevertheless impress one with some mystic appeal. Our question， then， is this： What are they so mystical about？
　　Confucius and Yan Hui’s Joys Are an
　　Emotional-Rational Mystery [13]
　　Since the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui do not belong in the realm of mysticism， what category of human experience do they fall into， then？ As a peak experience of human being， I propose to categorize them as an experience of integral harmony in the mind that crosses into shamanism， quasi-religion， supra-moral sensibility， and pan-aesthetics. 　　Let us examine these one by one， starting with the last. As spiritual joys， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui have in themselves a property of aesthetic activity， which I call pan-aesthetic. It is not an aesthetic in the strict sense of the term， but comes closer to what Alfred N. Whitehead （1861–1947） defined as aesthetic or observational order in counterpart with rational or conceptual order： a harmony brought about by conceptual order definitively grasps things with their regulated patterns and structures， while the harmony brought about by aesthetic order grasps things within the uniformity of the concrete particulars of the myriad things， and the latter emphasizes an aesthetic harmony arising from their differences and contrasts. Confucius and Yan Hui’s experience of harmony in their joys is profoundly grasped by Whitehead’s incisive perception.
　　Their joys are also a moral virtue at the same time， a high-order excellence that integrates the beautiful and the good. It is a virtue of aesthetic value， not one of the lower kind that depends on heteronomy， but a virtue in an advanced stage of autonomy. For joy can be an expression of moral freedom， too， a lofty moral awareness described by Confucius as “following what my heart desired， without transgressing what was right” （Analects， 2：4; Legge）. Such moral freedom transcends both heteronomy and autonomy in Western terms， but rests in an arcane unity of high morality and deep aestheticism. As a peak experience， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui share some similarities with mysterious sensations in psychological descriptions， the spiritual experience of religious faith， the intellectual experience of philosophic meditation， love psychology， and aesthetic appreciation.
　　However， they are neither religious nor intellectual experiences， but more akin to those of the mystical and aesthetic. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui seem to be more of a universal experience than that of religious faith; therefore， it might be more appropriate to call them “quasi-religious” experience. Religion is premised on spiritual faith. Confucius and Yan Hui did not feel their joys because they had some religious faith， but they could experience the mysterious realm of the human united with Heaven. That realm of experience should be ranked midway between ethics and religion.
　　Moral virtue that conforms to a Chinese tradition of practical reason puts a priority on action.
　　Moral virtue does not consist in “knowing” but in “doing.” Though moral virtue contains knowledge （i.e.， ideas）， morality itself is not intellectual knowledge. Morality only consists in one’s acts or doing. Therefore， moral virtue does not consist in knowing that or knowing how. It is . . . primarily a question of “to do or not to do.” 　　An American philosopher， Arthur C. Danto （1924–2013）， in his exegesis of Laozi’s Daoism affirms that Chinese Daoism was inclined toward “doing something” rather than “believing something.” So was Confucianism. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui were not founded on faith， still less on belief in any personified deities， and they are not even the same as the belief in sincerity held by disciples of Zisi. They were a natural outcome of being put into practice in actual doing. “The philosophic knowledge of Confucius is centered on moral influence by human example， and that is why he seldom spoke of ghosts and deities before or after life in this world， for he was not a religious man.”
　　Where did this quasi-religious union of Heaven and the human come from， then？ It came from a traditional Chinese religious sect of shamanism. It was Li Zehou 李澤厚 who advanced and wrote much on this subject. His view was largely accepted by Yu Ying-shih 余英时， though with his own reservations， “Earlier ritual and music had been mutually dependent on shaman practices; ritual and music served as shaman presentations while shamanism is the inner driving force of ritual and music.” Their views diverge in that Yu argued that breakthroughs of ritual and music made in the Axial Age had been initiated to challenge the whole shamanist culture that lay behind ritual and music. Li Zehou， on the contrary， believed that the tradition of shamanism continued and led to a series of doctrines on Heaven–human communication since the time of Confucius. According to Yu， the old concept of Heaven–human unity established by the shaman league was still an extroverted transcendence of human confinement， while the Chinese thinkers of the Axial Age took an introverted approach to transcendence. Its characteristic feature is to introduce the heavenly Way into the human heart-mind， where the Way of nature and the mind of humanity come into union. However， within the spectrum of Confucian thought， his argument is more inclined to the Mencian version of Confucianism， whereas Confucius himself largely took over the more homely doctrine of benevolence under shamanistic influence. In spite of this caveat， and even if scholars of pro-shaman traditions take a stance more inclined to the view that post-Axial Age Confucians abandoned shamanism altogether， I would rather insist that the tradition of shamanism did not actually die out there. For， without this presumption， there is no likelihood of giving a historical account of the long-lasting practices for Heaven–human communication， an endeavor that had been going on since Confucius and Yan Hui’s own time through the Neo-Confucians of Song who sought after their spiritual joys. 　　Liang Shuming’s 梁漱溟 （1893–1988） exposition on intuition is quite close to the joyful experiences of Confucius and Yan Hui：
　　The being of the universe is not in a static state， but is in change and flow. The so-called “change” simply means [a process] from harmony to disharmony or from disharmony to harmony; The life of mankind is a flowing and changeable integrity. Only the appearance of the universe is manifested to man like a still image owing to his cognition by the senses and the intellect. Senses and intellect are incapable of knowing the substance， which needs the intuition of life. To intuit is to live life， for the two are fused into one unity， without differentiation of the subject and object， but an absolute oneness.
　　More importantly， intuition can be further divided into：
　　One that attaches to the senses and one that attaches to the intellect. For example， hearing a sound and getting its melodious taste intuited by the senses. Reading poetry and getting its literary taste， . . . which involves understanding the intended meaning， must be obtained by an intuition that attaches to the intellect.
　　The intuition as conceptualized by Liang Shuming is not the intuition of sensibility， but more like an intellectual intuition. Therefore， he tended to define such “intellectual intuition” from the perspective of a union of feeling and reason. And his usage could be compared to the views of Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 （1909–1995）， who used intellectual intuition in a mystic manner as a counterpart to Kant’s “sensible intuition，” as a fundamental character of Chinese philosophy. Anyway， such intuition remains in the mystery of sensibility. Intuition is regarded as a certain kind of mysterious sensibility， while intuitive knowledge is knowledge that touches some depth of human reason rather than being some kind of limited knowledge derived from memory.
　　Different from the general tendency of Contemporary New Confucianism， Li Zehou maintains that Chinese cosmology is a rational mysticism. When he first proposed the view of “coexistence of the human and the universe and free intuition，” Li Zehou underscored the “priority of the aesthetic over reason.” When he established his philosophy of “emotion as substance，” he put forward a clearer notion of “rational mysticism，” a metaphysical “thing-in-itself” which he posited as “a collaborative material co-existence of the human and the universe.” From there sensible experience can get its source of data and aesthetically formal forces also have the root of their strength. Why does the universe exist in a state of regularity？ This is a question that Li Zehou takes as both mystical and inexplicable， for it surpasses the scope of human understanding， and can only be held in awe. Reason is inexplicable， which constitutes its mystery. Such mysticism is premised on the acknowledgment of the material existence of the universe， and so it is not the same mystery as the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui. 　　For my part， I think the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui could neither be identified as the mystery of reason， nor the mystery of sensibility， and certainly not an “intellectual intuition，” but the “emotional-rational mystery” that both conforms to （moral） reason and possesses traits of （aesthetic） feelings. The duality of mystery in reality and the realization of mystery agree with Yan Hui’s personal traits of earnest practicality and quiet reticence. An emotional-rational mystery， which combines elements of intellectual wisdom， moral virtue， aesthetic beauty， and a sageliness without divinity， represents their mystical unity. Such could be assumed to be the realm of cultivation in truth， beauty， and good all in one， to be attained by Confucians.
　　In short， the joys of Confucius and Yan Hui are not only a unity of the sensibility and reason （viz.， joy in music together with enjoyment of the Way）， but also a unity of the a priori with the a posteriori （the undivided states of aroused and unaroused human feelings）. It is indeed an example of “the mysteries of the whole world” in reality.
　　Returning to Master Yan！ [16]
　　Today， with the excavation of new textual materials from the Guodian bamboo slips， the Zisi–Mencius school of Confucianism has regained its importance in the study of Chinese philosophy and thought. Proposals have been made for researchers to go back to Zisi. If we hope to come closer to the original thinker， however， it is preferable to go back to Yan Hui rather than to Zisi only. There are four reasons for this：
　　First， Yan Hui was closest to the Master both in thinking and in doing. Yan Hui had played a role as Confucius’s appointed successor， and he was regarded by his teacher as a comrade in their ideals， a relation that none of the other students of Confucius could hope to attain. As the Master said， “Hui gives me no assistance. There is nothing that I say in which he does not delight” （Analects， 11：4; Legge）. That was because the teacher and student had attained almost the same height within the spiritual realm， not because Yan Hui as student avoided contradicting his teacher. Therefore， it would be a proper to approach Confucius’s own doctrine via the personality of Yan Hui， who was worthy of his fame as a “dual sage.”
　　Second， Yan Hui himself had the double merits of inner and outer cultivation， capable of sagely virtues and kingly statecraft. Yan Hui said， “I should like not to boast of my excellence， nor to make a display of my meritorious deeds” （5：26）. His first wish “not to” is for the personal cultivation of his internal self， and the second wish “not to” aims to give comfort to others within the external world. Yan Hui’s aspirations for inner sageliness and outer kingliness are patently revealed in these wishes. 　　Third， Yan Hui’s joy， so much recommended by Confucius， was a spiritual realm where the will， emotion， and intellect come into an all-around harmony and full circulation. As discussed above， since Confucius and Yan Hui’s joys were of a lofty moralist， pan-aesthetic， and quasi-religious nature， they must be comprised of moral willpower （the moral strength obliging them to find joy in their situation and not to change their joy）， of aesthetic pleasantness （the joy that remains as a core regulation to keep them in their joy）， and of an epistemic intellect （this epistemic faculty still being linked to their identity with morality）. Moreover， their joys could not have been present in everything and all the while， for the counteracting feeling， concern or even distress， intervened as well， and these two sides of emotional experience constitute a full circuit of harmony. Confucians have been known to be personally concerned with the world， and they always put things of concern before things of joy. Therefore， their emotional experience tends to begin with concern and to end in joy， when the two opposite feelings meet and come into a full circuit. Such opposition between joy and concern， however， was not the relative sort found since Yang Xiong’s Fayan nor the confrontational sort found under the influence of Buddhism in East Asia. The joys of Confucius and Yan Hui cannot be conceived as finding joy in hardship， which arose only after their time.
　　Fourth， Yan Hui’s joy was different from the joy that Zeng Dian 曾點 （b. 546 BCE） had wanted. The Master asked Zeng Dian his wishes， and Dian said， “‘In this， the last month of spring， with the dress of the season all complete， along with five or six young men who have assumed the cap， and six or seven boys， I would wash in the Yi River， enjoy the breeze among the rain altars， and return home singing.’ The Master heaved a sigh and said， ‘I give my approval to Dian’” （11：26）. What is presented here is the procedure of practicing ancient rites on the banks of the Yi River; it is not a process of going on an outing for aesthetic enjoyment. The episode is applauded as the “merry atmosphere of Zeng Dian” by later scholars， who are far removed from the original thought of Confucianism. Zeng Dian’s ideal， therefore， should not be taken purely as a sort of wistful merriness and confounded with Yan Hui’s joy. Considering the subtle similarities between their dispositions， when we call for a return to Yan Hui’s ideal， we may as well include Zeng Dian’s as one of the objectives. This is to counteract the trend of mind–nature idealism that ran in the Zisi–Mencian tradition flooding through the Song Neo-Confucianism， a movement that had a significant influence on traditional learning. Cui Shu 崔述 （1740–1816） made sobering arguments in regard to the theory of mind–nature and requested a return to Yan Hui. In his view， among the Confucian disciples that sought benevolence， Yan Hui was the closest to attaining that goal， and no one in the world ever sought a higher moral “principle” than what Yan Hui had aspired to. 　　In the end， we may add an epilogue： If we hope to seek a model of character to follow among the ancient Confucian masters， it might be preferable to return to Yan Hui rather than to Zisi！ Yan embodies a harmonious unity of knowledge and practice， of inner sageliness and outer kingliness， and of non-action and action. “Master Yan opened a path for scholars of later generations： externally he possessed perfect Confucian moral virtues; and internally he harbored the Daoist spirit of living in utmost plainness.” He constitutes an example of a Confucian–Daoist complementarity in the original sense， doesn’t he？ Zisi， on the other hand， followed earlier sages and was succeeded by scholars from Mencius to the Song Neo-Confucians. The so-called Yan school in later ages was blindly opposed to Zisi’s ideas， in that they misinterpreted Confucius. Therefore， to revitalize Confucius’s genuine teachings， a preferable way is to return to Yan Hui’s spiritual realm of earnest practicality and reticent happiness with the world. We can restore Confucius’s teachings by reinterpreting Yan Hui， “taking Confucius’s ideas as the mainframe to be fleshed out with Yan Hui’s ideals， or taking Yan Hui’s thought as the outline to be enriched with other Confucian doctrines as the texture.” Isn’t this the right thoroughfare to get access to Confucius？
　　Bibliography of Cited Translations
　　Ames， Roger T. and Henry Rosemont Jr.， trans. The Analects of Confucius： A Philosophical Translation. New York： The Random House Publishing Group， 1998.
　　Bullock， Jeffrey S.， trans. Yang Xiong： Philosophy of the Fa Yan. Highlands， NC： Mountain Mind Press， 2011.
　　Fu， Huisheng 傅惠生， trans. The Zhou Book of Changes [周易]. Changsha： Hunan People’s Publishing House， 2008.
　　Legge， James， trans. The Analects of Confucius. http：//ctext.org/analects， accessed May 25， 2019.
　　Li， Zehou. The Origins of Chinese Thought： From Shamanism to Ritual Regulations and Humaneness. Translated by Robert A. Carleo III. Leiden： Brill， 2018.
　　Whitehead， Alfred N. Adventures of Ideas. Cambridge： The Cambridge Press， 1939.
　　Translated by Wang Keyou