Published in 1190, the Four Books with Collected Commentaries quickly became a classic text across East Asia. To the Western reader, however, the commentarial style of this classic may be unfamiliar. While full appreciation of this style takes time, by understanding the structure of the Chinese text we gain immediate insight, not only into the present English translation, but into the mind of the narrator himself. In fact, the layout of this English replica is not arbitrary, but rather inherited from Zhu Xi’s deliberate page architecture and textual markers.

Legend:

① Ancient Verse

② Character Notes

③ Commentary – Definitions

④ Commentary – Explanations

⑤ Supplements

In general, the structure has five parts: 1) the ancient verse in large characters; 2) character and pronunciation notes directly below the verse; 3) Master Zhu's definitions of terms and short bios; 4) his official explanations of the verse; and 5) supplemental materials giving perspectives from other commentators or his own additional thoughts.

Note: Readers of the free edition of the Four Books App see the ancient verses alone; the structure described here belongs to the full text, available in the Scholar Pack.

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DISCUSSION OF SECTIONS

Chapter Titles

Following the standard convention, each chapter is named after the first two characters of its opening verse (e.g., Xue Er 學而). The verses themselves, however, bear no such titles. Since this is a problem for navigation in the digital edition, we apply the same principle, naming each verse after one or more of its own characters.

(1) Ancient Verse

The ancient verse stands in double-sized characters, read vertically and right to left, with the commentary below in two columns of half-sized characters. The contrast in scale alone sets verse apart from comment at a glance. As for the text itself, these classics were well established by the Song dynasty, and while there are always character variants and scholarly debates, Master Zhu is simply supplying standardized texts here without amendment.

(2) Character Notes

Below the ancient verse sit Master Zhu’s character notes. These are mostly Middle Chinese pronunciation notes, only of interest to linguists, but they occasionally indicate how a character should be read. Since the circle marker “〇” sets these notes apart from the commentary, the natural way to render them in English is as footnotes to the ancient characters.

(3) Commentary – Definitions

Master Zhu is famous for his definitions. They generally lead the commentary, for as Cheng Yi said, “It has never been possible to grasp the ideas without understanding the meanings of the words.” Yet Zhu does not merely stop at this practical end. His definitions are layered, also becoming philosophical statements and even works of art. Their elegance comes across best in the native language, where etymology and parallelism are more apparent, but we have tried to carry some of it into English.

These multidimensional glosses require the reader’s own good judgment. When the teacher writes “A is B,” he does not always mean it literally. Rather, he may be broadening the term in the reader’s imagination, introducing philosophical links through etymology, or pivoting from the verse character to one he will use in the commentary. Then again, sometimes A really does just mean B.

In addition to definitions, the reader will encounter one-line bios of the ancient persons named in the verse, and notes on the texts it quotes. “So and so was a pupil of Master Kong, who presumably needed to be told this lesson.” Or “This quote comes from such and such book.” In our digital edition, these persons and texts link to our internal Encyclopedia Daoxue for further reading.

Keep in mind, too, that the definitions may not be cleanly separated from the explanations. Definitions generally come first, but Master Zhu sometimes blurs the line, pivoting from the one into the other through various literary techniques (see Lunyu 1.1).

(4) Commentary – Explanations

Once the terms are defined, Zhu makes the meaning clear through his own commentary, through the commentaries of others he selects, and through extending the verse into adjacent matters that logically follow. Moreover, he often binds the verse to others in the Four Books or the Five Classics, so that one passage sheds light on another. The commentaries have the distinguishing characteristic of synthesizing a great many ideas into a single coherent model of thought. This became known as “The Great Synthesis” (ji dacheng 集大成).

In service of this, Master Zhu’s literary techniques seem inexhaustible: reasoning out the true principle underlying the verse, rephrasing ancient sentences with fuller grammar and deeper meaning, phasing in and out of definition and prose, building parallels that span verses, or even forgoing his own commentary in favor of a perfectly selected quote from a scholar who already realized the principle. Small wonder, then, that later emperors bestowed on him the honorific wengong 文公 (“Master of Literature”).

Zhu’s own explanations often begin with a marker such as “This says” (yan 言), “The reason is that” (gai 蓋), “This being so” (ran 然), or “I submit that” (yu wei 愚謂). Although no “〇” sets them off from the definitions, these markers are certainly deliberate, placed to prevent the confusion that would otherwise follow. As the illustration shows, ancient and Middle Chinese had no paragraph breaks and no punctuation, not even quotation marks to separate one voice from the next. The markers do that work. In translation, we consistently insert a paragraph break before each such marker.

Given this, one rule must be impressed upon the English reader: when a new paragraph opens with one of these markers, it should be taken to refer primarily to the ancient verse. English naturally reads “This” as pointing to whatever came just before, which could be a definition or a quoted scholar. Worse, Classical Chinese can say several things at once, so Zhu will sometimes set up a marker that genuinely reads BOTH ways. That said, assume it refers PRIMARILY up to the verse.

(5) Supplements

After the commentary, the reader will often encounter supplements. These feel like a “scene change,” where we step back to see the verse as a whole, entertain other interpretations, and savor the literary arts.

The supplements take many forms. Most commonly, Zhu attaches commentaries from renowned scholars of the Song dynasty (Lunyu 2.1), or less often from the Tang or Han. He may offer a single line by Cheng Yi summing up all parts of a verse (1.1), or a whole essay on a philosophical nuance (1.2). He may attach an artistic construction by Xie Liangzuo (4.2). He may also insert his own summary opinion, marked "I submit that" (2.3), or a callout to the reader marked “note that” (1.15). Compared to the official commentaries, supplements generally have a more artistic bent.

These additional items are walled off from the official commentary by a circle marker (“〇”). In the present translation we use a dinkus (“✽ ✽ ✽”), which has been a common English convention for over a hundred years and communicates the feeling that you are now entering a different section.

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RECURRING MARKERS

As he advances through the work, the astute reader will notice a textual pattern emerging in the commentaries. There is a set of recurring markers which Zhu uses to give the text its structure. They appear methodically across the commentary and the supplements, and five recur often enough to be worth mentioning.

Ciyan 此言 (“This says”). This simple marker runs throughout the Four Books, walling off Zhu’s commentary from his own preceding definitions or from the words of other scholars, and so preventing both misreadings and misattributed speakers. It first appears in the Lunyu at verse 1.2, then shortens to a bare yan 言 (“says”) by the second section. At times it contracts to ci 此 (“this”) alone, or expands to cizhang yan 此章言 (“this chapter says”).

Gai 蓋 (“This is so because”). This is by far Zhu Xi’s favorite marker for explanatory prose. It is a highly flexible reasoning particle, read either back to the verse (“This is so because”) or forward to the explanation (“The reason is that”). The best translation is often “For,” which is fittingly open. This particle lets Zhu point at multiple precedents with different reasoning at once, something English does not allow, but as always it should be taken primarily as explaining the verse. Note that it should NOT be confused with the early classical hedging sense (“presumably”), although Zhu does at times use it this way.

Ran 然 (“This being so”). It is one of Zhu Xi’s regular commentarial pivots, typically following a definition closed with 也. It marks not a strong reversal (“however”) but a continuative move that extends, qualifies, or completes the definition just given and pivots into the commentary. In translation it becomes “And yet,” “That said,” or “And so,” depending on context. At times it functions as little more than a structural marker, signaling the move into his commentary.

Yu wei 愚謂 (“I submit that”) and yu an 愚按 (“note that”). These are Zhu Xi’s signature markers for inserting his own viewpoint on a difficult subject. They appear most commonly in the supplements after the dinkus, or within the commentary itself, where Zhu nuances or respectfully pushes back on a quoted scholar. The character yu 愚 (“the foolish one”) is a humble self-reference, and it prevents any confusion between Zhu’s voice and those of the scholars he cites.

Huo yue 或曰 (“some say”). This marker introduces an alternative reading or popular view, followed by Zhu’s endorsement, pushback, or admission of uncertainty. It allows Zhu to reach into accumulated tradition without committing to a specific source. In the definitions section, the phrasing shifts to “another reading takes X as Y,” though the function is similar. Note that 或曰 should NOT be read as “someone said.”

Final Words

With this in mind, the layout of the present translation should take on new meaning. We have made a real effort not just to translate each character, but to solve the structural challenge this text poses. Within structure there is variation. As the reader explores the text, they will find that of the eight hundred verses, no two commentarial sections are quite the same. Master Zhu exhausts all patterns within this general structure, making each its own special exploration, a richness that readers and scholars across East Asia have enjoyed for the better part of a millennium.

— Daoxue Academy 道學學堂