Doctorate: The wholeness of early Chinese texts: Mu Shi 牧誓, Huainanzi 淮南子, and Wu Cheng 武成

Corina Smith

What does it mean for a text to be a whole? How do texts achieve wholeness? And how can one determine when they do so? Questions of wholeness have been at the heart of Chinese text studies since the Western Han 漢 (205 BC–9 AD), when scholars attempted some of the earliest known reconstructions, and constructions, of pre-imperial texts. In the two millennia since, almost all early Chinese texts studied have been evaluated in terms of their wholeness, yet within this scholarship, there are many ideas about what makes these texts whole. In many cases, “wholeness” refers to the extent to which a text is seen to resemble an earlier, if not an imagined original form. Alternatively, “wholeness” is taken to refer to a function of texts’ intrinsic features, such as their content or structure. This project, by contrast, posits that “wholeness” does not refer to an immutable property of texts themselves, but to a contingent hermeneutical device or function within the open, kaleidoscopic process of reading, itself negotiated and re-negotiated through this very process. Reading, in short, does not reveal text wholeness (or lack thereof), but rather allows for texts to be made whole, in different and plural ways.

The Wholeness of Early Chinese Texts Mu Shi 牧誓, Huainanzi 淮南子, and Wu Cheng 武成 Corina Smith Pembroke College, Oxford August 2020 This project was made possible by the Clarendon Fund, the Gordon Aldrick Fund, Pembroke College Graduate Fund, Davis Fund, and the estate of Mary Mitchell. I would like to thank my Viva examiners, Tan Tian Yuan and my enshi Bernhard Fuehrer, for their careful suggestions on a much poorer earlier draft. I would like to thank so many other scholars and mentors in the premodern China field who have helped me along and shown a commitment to my and my peers’ development – Robert Chard, Peter Ditmanson, Martin Kern, Andrew Lo, Janine Nicol, Michael Puett, Matthias Richter, David Schaberg, Zhang Cathy Jing – and so many others. I would like to thank all the amazing early China grads and early career researchers for making our field such a warm, wonderful, and fun community. I hope that this is only the start for us all. Among them, special thanks go to my friends Yegor, Flaminia, Henry, and, of course, Justin (who would have the unwitting reader know that this project was all just a pretext for me to indulge a deep sense of personal identification with King Wu of Zhou.) Outside the field, I would like, too, to thank those friends – from so many walks of life – whose conversation and intellectual generosity have been so crucial in my own intellectual development. I would like to thank my family for bearing with it all and not asking too many questions. And finally, to my supervisor Dirk Meyer: thank you for always sharing the vision. Inshallah, we’ll raise a glass very soon. - August 2020 Contents Introduction………………………………………………………………………………………….. Conceptions of text wholeness in the field…………………………………………………… Corpus……………………………………………………………………………………….. Methodology…………………………………………………………………………………. Structure……………………………………………………………………………………… 1 2 18 32 36 Chapter One: Bibliographical introduction to the Shangshu 尚書 (Venerated Documents)………… Part One: Shu and their organisation in the pre-imperial period…………………………… Part Two: Transmission and reception from Qin/Han onwards…………………………….. Part Three: In the contemporary period……………………………………………………... Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………. 39 43 51 62 66 Chapter Two: Bibliographical introduction to Huainanzi 淮南子…………………………………… Part One: Production and transmission of the text………………………………………….. Part Two: Nature and content of the text……………………………………………………. Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………… 68 69 77 83 Chapter Three: Mu Shi 牧誓 (The Mu Harangue)…………………………………………………… Part One: The contextualising frame………………………………………………………… Part Two: The harangue……………………………………………………………………... Part Three: The performative vow…………………………………………………………… Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………… 85 87 90 101 105 Chapter Four: Huainanzi I (“Tian Wen Xun” 天文訓 [“Patterns of Heaven”], “Di Xing Xun” 墬形訓 [“Forms of Terrain”], and “Lan Ming Xun” 覽冥訓 [“Perceiving the Obscure”])…………. Part One: The basic types of resonance……………………………………………………… Part Two: The Huainanzi world-schema…………………………………………………….. Part Three: Huainanzi’s world and the basis of resonance…………………………………. Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………… 108 110 118 133 148 Conclusion to chapters Three and Four: Wholeness in Mu Shi versus Huainanzi…………………... 150 Chapter Five: Huainanzi II (“Tai Zu Xun” 泰族訓 [“Highest Conglomeration”])………………….. Part One: Sincerity and resonance…………………………………………………………... Part Two: Sincerity and great connectedness………………………………………………... Part Three: Governance by sincerity………………………………………………………… Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………. 155 157 161 165 171 Chapter Six: Wu Cheng 武成 (War’s Completion) I………………………………………………… Part One: Types of textual authority………………………………………………………… Part Two: The structure of the narrative……………………………………………………. Part Three: The paradigmatic shu text………………………………………………………. Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………… 173 174 195 199 203 Chapter Seven: Wu Cheng II…………………………………………………………………………. Part One: The Other’s discourse…………………………………………………………….. Part Two: The subject………………………………………………………………………... Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………… 205 206 216 222 Conclusion to chapters Five, Six, and Seven: Wholeness in Huainanzi versus Wu Cheng…………. 225 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………………… 233 Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………………………. 240 Image Credit…………………………………………………………………………………………. 258 Introduction What does it mean for a text to be a whole? How do texts achieve wholeness? And how can one determine when they do so? Questions of wholeness have been at the heart of Chinese text studies since the Western Han 漢 (205 BC–9 AD), when scholars attempted some of the earliest known reconstructions, and constructions, of pre-imperial texts. In the two millennia since, almost all early Chinese texts studied have been evaluated in terms of their wholeness, yet within this scholarship, there are many ideas about what makes these texts whole. In many cases, “wholeness” refers to the extent to which a text is seen to resemble an earlier, if not an imagined original form. Alternatively, “wholeness” is taken to refer to a function of texts’ intrinsic features, such as their content or structure. This project, by contrast, posits that “wholeness” does not refer to an immutable property of texts themselves, but to a contingent hermeneutical device or function within the open, kaleidoscopic process of reading, itself negotiated and re-negotiated through this very process. Reading, in short, does not reveal text wholeness (or lack thereof), but rather allows for texts to be made whole, in different and plural ways. This reconceptualisation of text wholeness re-contextualises the other existing ideas mentioned above within a wider theoretical frame, allowing for a greater, more productive understanding of this aspect of early Chinese textuality, while complimenting established practice. 1 Conceptions of text wholeness in the field Many different conceptions of wholeness hold weight in the scholarship of early Chinese texts and summarising these comprehensively would represent a project in its own right. For the purposes of the present study, I summarise the situation using four broad categories: (1) conceptions of wholeness as the function of a text’s resemblance to an ideal original form, (2) as the extent of a text’s resemblance to an earlier historical form, (3) as something that is achieved by text content, and lastly, (4) structural or formal conceptions of wholeness. (1) Wholeness as resemblance to an ideal original For many scholars, the objective of early Chinese text research is to recover texts’ “original” forms from across multiple possible versions or forms. In practise, “original” often refers not merely to the chronologically-earliest form of the text, but to an ideal, definitive prototype that transcends chronology. One corollary for this transcendental notion of the original text is found in what one might term “naturalistic” theories of early Chinese literature. In his preface to his commentary of the Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan 春秋左傳 (Mister Zuo’s Commentary to the Spring and Autumn Annals), critic Du Yu 杜預 (222–285) posits that texts have predetermined forms and features just like things in nature. There is a way the text “should” be, and the job of the text scholar is to uncover and acquiesce to this predetermined form. 2 若江河之浸，膏澤之潤，渙然冰釋，怡然理順，然後為得也。其發凡以言例，皆經國之常制，周公之垂法，史書之舊章，仲尼從而修之，以成一經之綂體。 1 [The Chunqiu] is like the flows of the Yangzte and Yellow Rivers and the moisture of seasonal rains: dissolving, the ice melts away; just so, the patterns fall into place – and then can be obtained. As for its [ways of] setting out general ideas by discussing particular instances, all of these are the regular ordinances of the classics and state [histories], the bequeathed laws of the Duke of Zhou, and the old tracts of historians’ writings; Confucius compiled them accordingly, thereby forming the unified body of a single classic. Du’s passage presents the figure of Confucius as the ideal text scholar, a “sage” editor who discerns how the text should be and reformulates it accordingly. Where Du’s passage constructs an allegorical parallel between texts and natural forms, Liu Xie’s 劉勰 (c. 465–c. 521) Wenxin Diaolong 文心雕龍 (The Literary Mind and Carving of Dragons), a fifth century treatise on literary aesthetics, goes a step further. Liu presents a naturalistic cosmological theory of the origins of language, and by extension, texts. 爰自風姓，暨於孔氏，玄聖創典，素王述訓，莫不原道心以敷章，研神理而設教，取像乎《河》《洛》，問數乎蓍龜，觀天文以極變，察人文以成化；然後能經緯區宇，彌綸彝憲，發輝事業，彪炳辭文。故知道沿聖以垂文，聖因文而明道，旁通而無滯，日用而不匱。《易》曰：'鼓天下之動者存乎辭。' 辭之所以能鼓天下者，乃道之文也。2 Reaching from Feng (Fu Xi) to Confucius, the elusive sage (Fu Xi) created the canons and the uncrowned king (Confucius) recounted admonitions; neither failed to trace back to the heart of Way, elaborating chapters thereby; they hewed divine patterns and establish teachings. They took images from the Diagrams of the Yellow River and Writings of the Luo River and asked about fate from the yarrow stalks and turtle shells. They observed the “texts” of heaven, grasping changes thereby; they investigated the texts of men, accomplishing transformations thereby. After this, they were able to guide the domain, become versed in laws and standards, make splendid deeds and endeavours, and make shining words and texts. Thus, they knew the Way and followed the sages, bequeathing texts thereby. The sages adhered to texts and Du Yu, Lu Deming 陸德明, and Kong Yingda 孔穎達, Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan zhushu 春秋左傳註疏, 60 vols., in Shisanjing zhushu 十三經註疏, block print edition (Fujian, Jiajing reign era [1507– 1567]), 15. 2 Zhou Zhenfu, ed., Wenxin diaolong jinyi 文心雕龍今譯 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), 13–4. 1 3 made bright the Way; they understood [these] thoroughly with no blockage; they used [them] daily without exhaustion. The Changes say, “that which drums the realm into motion exists in words.” As for the means by which words are able to drum the realm, these are texts of the Way. Overall, Liu argues that correct, aesthetic forms in language and, by extension, literature are predetermined in the same way that correct, aesthetic forms in nature and the cosmos are set, which is to say, according to eternal natural and cosmological principles. As with Du Yu, the function of text scholarship is the apprehension and appreciation of these ideal forms. Hermeneutic prodigy is simply an instantiation of a wider understanding of all natural and cosmological forms, and therefore serves as an indicator of sage-hood. Overall, Du Yu’s and Liu Xie’s naturalistic text theories represent two corollaries for the paradigm of “original” text in the early China field. Within this paradigm, “text wholeness” refers to the extent of a text’s resemblance to its idealised “original” form – a prototype or definitive version that may not actually have a historical precedent and may be purely imaginary. This is seen in the Du’s passage, where Confucius is able to make texts whole (“forming the unified body of a single classic”) by uncovering these idealised forms. (2) Wholeness as resemblance to an historical form(s) The early Chinese corpus can be very difficult to read. In the first instance, the corpus itself is much deteriorated through the vicissitudes of transmission, such as copyist error, archival mismanagement, political censorship, and organic decay. Further to this, linguistic disparity and loss of referential context stymie scholars’ understanding of even wellpreserved texts. As such, scholars from the late imperial period onwards have exploited a variety of techniques for restoring texts to an earlier state in which these difficulties were (presumably) less apparent. By reasoning through text-intrinsic evidence – language, lexicon, 4 syntax, phonetic indicators, orthography, grammar, idiom, form, style, and script – textextrinsic evidence – material and codicological aspects, variant texts and editions, commentaries, bibliographies, biographies, and official histories – and the evidence of other empirical fields – history, archaeology, anthropology, and historical geography – scholars infer what is missing from received texts and expunge what is superfluous, thereby arriving at an objective reconstruction of its earlier meaning. 3 For the purposes of this introduction, I collectively refer to these methods for the forensic retrieval of the earlier, presumably more transparent counterparts of early Chinese texts as “empirical scholarship.” In the context of this empirical scholarship, “text wholeness” refers to the extent to which the surviving text can be deemed to have been restored to its earlier, more transparent form. (3) Wholeness of content In contrast with scholarship focusing on early Chinese texts’ relationships to their historical or even original forms, there are many examples of scholarship focusing on these texts “as they are,” evaluating and appraising their philosophical, religious, or literary messages. In the context of this work, text wholeness refers to the extent to which a text might be argued to achieve consistency, completeness, or coherence (however one defines these values) in these messages. This sort of content-based argument for wholeness can be seen in A. C. Graham’s (1919–1991) remarks on the “Inner Chapters” (nei pian 内篇) of the Zhuangzi 莊子. In the context of this work, “meaning” is understood to refer to (or, is used in a manner consistent with it referring to) positive categories within texts, something external to and independent of reading subjects, as modelled in, for example, the categories of Christoph Harbsmeier 何莫邪 and Jiang Shaoyu’s 蔣紹愚 Thesaurus Linguae Sericae (Hanxue wendian 漢學文典) project. See <http://tls.uni-hd.de/>, accessed 19/9/2019. 3 5 “… in reading the Inner chapters one has the impression of meeting the same very unusual man. It is not simply that he is a remarkable thinker and writer; he is someone with an absolutely fearless eye like the William Blake of The marriage of heaven and hell, he gives that slightly hair-raising sensation of the man so much himself that, rather than rebelling against conventional modes of thinking, he seems free of them by birthright.”4 Graham argues that the Inner Chapters exhibit a consistent voice with which they evoke a singular, iconoclastic worldview. On these grounds, he believes the Inner Chapters justify themselves as a whole, irrespective of any possible resemblance to an earlier text. Much how Graham appeals to an “impression of meeting the very same unusual man” in making a claim for the textual wholeness of a section of Zhuangzi, one might appeal to any coherent or consistent aspect of text content to claim the same for any other early Chinese text. (4) Wholeness of structure or form Structuralist approaches aim to identify meaning in texts, societies, and other anthropogenic systems through the close analysis of their inherent structural and formal relationships, as opposed to representational content. Structuralist analyses of premodern texts first emerged in the early twentieth century in, for example, Vladímir Propp’s (1895– 1970) work on folklore and his critic Claude Lévi-Strauss’ (1908–2009) work on myth, percolating into the methodological repertoire of the early China field some decades thereafter.5 Structuralist and form-centred approaches have been particularly productive in the identification of consistency, completeness, or coherence in early Chinese texts where A. C. Graham, Chuang-tzǔ: The Inner Chapters, rpt. (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2001), 3–4. Propp completed his first major structural study Morphology of the Folktale in 1928, though an English version did not become available until the 1958. See Vladímir Propp, Morphology of the Folktale, second edition, trans. Laurence Scott, ed. Louis A. Wagner (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1968), and Claude Lévi-Strauss, Anthropologie structurale (Paris: Plon, 1958) and Myth and Meaning (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978). 4 5 6 content wholeness has traditionally proved elusive. The Daodejing 道德經 (Classic of the Way and Power), to give a standout example, incorporates a great variety of paradoxical statements that frustrate any attempt to draw together a coherent content overview, not only across but also within its stanzas.6 Rudolf G. Wagner’s (1941–2019) work on the use of parallel structure in Wang Bi’s 王弼 (226–249) Daodejing commentary has been highly successful in identifying a unifying expression on the text’s structural level. 7 Scholars have also found that many recently-excavated philosophical texts, including a number found among the Guodian 郭店 manuscript cache, do not yield an integrated statement in the course of a linear reading. It is through formal analyses unpacking these texts’ highly-integrated, multi-directional argumentative patterns that Dirk Meyer and other scholars have successfully demonstrated that many of these texts do in fact constitute coherent wholes on the structural level, forming what Meyer calls “argument-based texts.”8 Overall, in the context of this scholarship, “text wholeness” can be understood to refer to the consistency, completeness, or coherence of structural or formal relationships intrinsic to the text. For an overview of paradoxes in early Chinese philosophical texts, see Wim De Reu, “Right Words Seem Wrong: Neglected Paradoxes in Early Chinese Philosophical Texts,” Philosophy East and West 56:2 (2006): 281–300. 7 The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on the Laozi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000). 8 “Argument-based texts” are texts that generate meaning by advancing argumentative patterns; Dirk Meyer, Philosophy on Bamboo: Text and the Production of Meaning in Early China (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 11. They are to be distinguished from “context-dependant” texts, which “participate in a triangular relationship of meaning transmission consisting of the text, a mediator of meaning, and the receiver of the message. … [and] serve as a platform for broader philosophical processes that largely remain outside the text itself.” Ibid., 1. Meyer identifies Guodian texts “Zhong xin zhi dao” 忠信之道 (“The way of fidelity and trustworthiness”), “Qiong da yi shi” 窮達以時 (“Failure and success appear at their respective times”), “Wu xing” 五行 (“Five aspects of virtuous conduct”), “Xing zi ming chu” 性自命出 (“Human nature is brought forth by decree”), and “Tai yi sheng shui” 太一生水 (“The Ultimate One gives birth to water”) as argument-based texts in the Philosophy on Bamboo case studies. 6 7 Overall, the state of the conception of text wholeness in the early China field can be understood in reference to four categories: resemblance to original texts, resemblance to historical text forms, as a function of content, and as structural wholeness. Of course, this four-part rubric suffers from the shortcomings of any post-hoc categorisation. In the first instance, one can readily refer to scholarship that touches on more than one of, or blurs the lines between, these four categories. In practise, a great deal of scholarship does so. There is a great deal of overlap, first, between the reconstruction of historical text forms and of imagined originals, in view of the fact that the reconstruction of historical texts often aims at earliest possible forms. Similarly, there is overlap in the treatment of content and structure. Both content and structure refer to aspects of the intrinsic text, and are difficult to demarcate from one another in much of the literature of early China. 9 Finally, these four categories of wholeness are sometimes used to stand as evidence for one another. Wholeness with respect to resemblance to reconstructed forms of the text (either earlier or “original”) is often brought as evidence of wholeness (or lack thereof) in the intrinsic text (in content or structure), and vice versa. In the second instance, one can refer to examples of outlier scholarship that theorises text wholeness in ways that are not entirely represented by these four categories. In his 2002 study A Patterned Past: Form and Thought in Early Chinese Historiography, David Schaberg approaches the rhetorical, narrative, literary, and ideological conventions of the Zuo Zhuan and Guoyu 國語 (Discourses of the State) as instantiations of dynamic Warring States (475– 221 BC) historiographical practises.10 Within this framework, text “wholeness” would refer to the degree to which the received texts can, in contemporary reading, be understood to reflect The form-content dichotomy in the study of early Chinese texts is problematised in Joachim Gentz’ and Dirk Meyer’s edited volume Literary Forms of Argument in Early China (Leiden: Brill, 2015). Refer to the discussion on pages 97–100 in this project. 10 Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. 9 8 and indeed embody this coherent practise, even where the texts themselves seem incoherent or inconsistent from the point of view of the four categories listed above. 11 More recently, Heng Du’s work on the Chuci 楚辭 (Songs of Chu) argues that the mythical biography of Qu Yuan 屈原 functions to “close” and “stabilise” the text.12 In this way, text wholeness is determined by the hermeneutical function of the author-figure. In summary, the four categories outlined here should not be regarded as absolute or exhaustive. These and other caveats notwithstanding, I take them to represent the breadth of approaches to, and conceptions of, text wholeness across the wider early China field. The fracture-points between these four categories of approach, discussed just above, demonstrate that, as intensely negotiated as “text wholeness” is, the field still lacks a comprehensive, theoretically-robust account of the subject. I demonstrate this need further below, where I survey how the four categories’ relative prevalence has shifted over time. Show that the field has been disproportionately weighted towards paradigms of wholeness as a function of resemblance to original (and, to a lesser degree, historical) texts, and I explore the practical and theoretical shortcomings of these dominant paradigms, and the problems that their prevalence presents. Relative prevalence of the four paradigms of wholeness in the field As reflected in the examples touched on earlier, in earlier periods, it was widely taken for granted that text wholeness referred to resemblance to an original, reflecting how text “The feeling of coherence in these texts is thus an effect both of their origins and of the habits of reading they impose.” Schaberg, A Patterned Past, 7. 12 “The Author’s Two Bodies: The Death of Qu Yuan and the Birth of Chuci zhangju 楚辭章句,” T’oung Pao 105.3–4 (2019): 259–314. In this paper, Du draws from her doctoral thesis “The Author’s Two Bodies: Paratext in Early Chinese Textual Culture” (PhD dissertation, Harvard University, 2018). 11 9 scholarship at this time was primarily concerned with the reconstruction of imagined originals. Approaches in the other three categories developed more recently, reflecting the growth of scholarship primarily aimed towards the reconstruction of historical text forms, as well as the evaluation of the intrinsic text. In spite of this diversification of approach, the notion of the “original text” nevertheless continues to exert a great influence in scholarship, doing so in ways that are not always easy to identify or even explicitly intended. The continued latent influence of idealised original text paradigms is visible, to return to an earlier example, in the spread of Zhuangzi scholarship. In addition to the “Inner Chapters”, the received Zhuangzi is organised into two further divisions, the “Outer Chapters” (wai pian 外篇) and “Miscellaneous Chapters” (za pian 雜篇). Traditionally, the “Inner Chapters” have been privileged as the closest or most authentic representation of an “original” Zhuangzi. However, it is presently impossible to ascertain even the origins of the tripartite division, much less the extent to which any of the three parts might embody an early, let alone an “original” Zhuangzi.13 A. C. Graham’s Chuang-tzŭ, as discussed above, aims towards the evaluation of the philosophical content of the received Zhuangzi, irrespective of its relationship to an historical early text. This is also the aim of the three major works on Zhuangzi’s philosophy that followed Graham’s, volumes of essays edited by Victor H. Mair (1983), Paul Kjellberg and The received Zhuangzi is hypothesised to be the revision of Guo Xiang 郭象 (d. 312 AD). Even if the ideas laid forth in “Guo Xiang’s” Zhuangzi are indeed the remnants of a system of thought that sprang up around the mythical teacher-figure of Zhuang Zhou 莊周 (369–286 BC), as held by tradition, it is still the case that the earliest stable Zhuangzi stuttered into existence over generations, emerging organically as a crowd-sourced compendium of students’ aide-memoirs to an unfixed body of spoken content. For the history of the tripartite division, see Harold Roth, “Who Compiled the Chuang Tzu?” in Chinese Texts and Philosophical Contexts. Essays Dedicated to Angus C. Graham, ed. Henry Rosemont, 79–128 (La Salle: Open Court, 1991); Liu Xiaogan, Classifying the Zhuangzi Chapters (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994); Esther Klein, “Were there ‘Inner Chapters’ in the Warring States? A New Examination of the Evidence about the Zhuangzi,” T’oung Pao 96 (2011): 299–369; and Liu Xiaogan, “Textual Issues in the Zhuangzi,” in Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, ed. Liu Xiaogan, 129–58 (Dordrecht: Springer, 2014). 13 10 P. J. Ivanhoe (1996), and Scott Cook (2003).14 Chuang-tzŭ and these latter three titles nevertheless give the lion’s share of the analysis over to the “Inner Chapters” (the Qi Wu Lun 齊物論 [“Discussion on Balancing Things”] chapter especially), overlooking large portions, if not all, of the other two divisions from the outset. And while some systematic studies of the “Outer” and “Miscellaneous” chapters’ philosophy have emerged in recent years, these remain very few, relative to the proportion of the received text that these chapters make up. 15 This overall lack of research on the “Outer” and “Miscellaneous Chapters” represents tacit assent to the pursuit of an imagined “original” Zhuangzi, even in scholarship that aims towards the evaluation of the intrinsic text, at the cost of other possible research outcomes. The prevalence of the imagined “original” as a major category, if not the ultimate object, of research, both in Zhuangzi scholarship and across modern early Chinese text scholarship, is problematic on several interrelated fronts. First, there are practical and epistemological barriers to the pursuit of an “original” text where early China is concerned. The earliest moments in the lives of all surviving texts are, at least in part, unknown. The interpolations of Han and subsequent commentators have directed, mediated, and saturated exegetical traditions to such an extent that, in the absence of a far more complete archaeological record, the Han represents a hermeneutical wall beyond which little is recoverable. 16 Even if Victor H. Mair, ed., Experimental Essays on Chuang-Tzu (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1983); Paul Kjellberg and P. J. Ivanhoe, ed., Essays on Skepticism, Relativism, and Ethics in the Zhuangzi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996); and Scott Cook, ed., Hiding the World in the World: Uneven Discourses on the Zhuangzi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003). 15 For example Wim De Reu, “A Ragbag of Odds and Ends? Argument Structure and Philosophical Coherence in Zhuangzi 26” and Dirk Meyer, “Truth Claim with no Claim to Truth: Text and Performance of the ‘Qiushui’ Chapter of the Zhuangzi,” both in Meyer and Gentz, Literary Forms of Argument, pages 243–296 and 297–340 respectively. Other systematic studies of the Outer chapters, for example in Graham’s Chuang-tzŭ and Liu’s Classifying the Zhuangzi Chapters, involve reconstructing the historical text, and the evaluation of philosophical or literary content is more minor and incidental. 16 Chapter One of this project discusses this problem with respect to the reconstruction of the early Shangshu 尚書 (Venerated Documents). For systematic analysis of shifts in received text meaning in the Han and beyond, see Michael Nylan’s study of Hong Fan 洪範 (The Great Plan), The shifting 14 11 complete information on the earliest version(s) of a given text were retrievable, this text might, for example, use an early lect of Sinitic that is not even currently intelligible, or take a form that would not even be recognisable to the contemporary scholar as related to the received version(s). Moreover, there would be no guarantee that these texts would be free of the kinds of problems and obfuscations apparent in the received versions, nor that contemporary scholars would even have tools to distinguish textual problems and from features, much less resolve the former. These barriers all present themselves in the reconstruction of early historical text forms, too. Even if these circumstantial limitations were surmountable, then against what standard would one delimit an “original” from among earliest versions? Would this refer to the first materialised (i.e. committed to a material carrier) version of the text, to the first stable composition worked out orally, or to the first composition worked out in the mind? 17 These problems are complicated further still by the fact that many early Chinese texts were not composed over the course of a discrete authoring act, but rather stuttered into existence over decades and centuries through a slow, diffuse accretional process. This process reflects a very wide margin within which to delimit even separate text “versions,” much less a moment of center: the original “Great plan” and later readings (Sankt Augustin: Institut Monumenta Serica; Nettetal: Steyler, 1992.) 17 Michael Nylan mounts similar concerns regarding the value of dating the Shangshu. See the discussion on page 50. Note that I take “text” to refer to a stable assembly of meaning as abstracted from its material carrier(s). Materials for rendering texts include the surface carving, brush writing, and bronze casting of early civilisations, as well as the typewriter, tape-recorder, and computer of the modern period. These carriers can synchronously render and retain a greater amount of information than our conceptual faculties alone; they have a bigger “memory”. (For more on the distinction between conceptual [“internal”] and material [“external”] processing, see Jan Assmann, Cultural Memory and Early Civilization: Writing, Remembrance, and Political Imagination [Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011], page 9 in particular.) Committing texts to carriers not only extends or transfers them from the conceptual sphere into the material world, but also unlocks new horizons of possibility for their construction. In other words, material carriers are technologies for the construction of increasingly complex texts. From this, there emerge questions such as, to what extent do the forms of texts themselves reflect the characteristics and conditions (both augmenting and limiting) of the material “technologies” of their construction? Are there enduring “material” aspects to texts that have long since been abstracted from their original carriers? These questions are addressed by Meyer in Philosophy on Bamboo. 12 “origination.” Overall, there is no practical way to gauge what an “original” or early historical text form would have looked like, much less the extent to which any existing text might resemble it. Further to these issues with the application of a paradigm of “originals” or the reconstruction of early text forms in the early Chinese context, the idea that “originals” should form a (let alone the ultimate) research object in any field of study, without further qualification or reflection, itself relies on a flawed ontology of texts and works. Separate iterations of the “same” text or work are generally conceived of as fitting into a hierarchising family tree, reducing texts to latter “versions” of the static imagined “original” that remains a permanent, transcendental fixture at the top. An everyday example demonstrating the ubiquity of this paradigm concerns the widely-held view that Jimi Hendrix’s (1942–1970) recording of “All Along the Watchtower” supplanted Bob Dylan’s original recording to become the definitive version of the work, and moreover that this constituted a remarkable achievement on Hendrix’s part.18 That it appears perfectly idiomatic not only to refer to the Dylan and Hendrix records, first and foremost, as two versions of the same work, but moreover to find the comparatively more artful or enduring nature of the “latter” work to be a point worth remarking upon, is a function of the hierarchising paradigm described; these observations refer to an apparent hierarchy that has been flipped counter to its “natural” orientation.19 In reality, separate iterations or versions of the “same” text are texts in their own right. An a priori hierarchisation of these “iterations” is anachronistic, and the notion of the “original” Hendrix’s version appears on Electric Ladyland (Reprise Records, 1968). Dylan’s appears on Biograph (Columbia Records, 1985). In the sleeve of Biograph, Dylan writes, “I liked Jimi Hendrix’s record of [‘All Along the Watchtower’] and ever since he died I've been doing it that way.” 19 Continuing with the contemporary music analogy, see Andrew Kania’s analysis of how jazz traditions especially destabilise classical assumptions about the ontologies of “works”, “versions”, and “originals” in “All play and no work: An ontology of jazz,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 69.4 (2011): 391–403. 18 13 that this hierarchisation circumscribes is similarly arbitrary. An “original,” however delineated, is inherently no better, truer, more cogent, beautiful, or valuable among texts. The methodological implication of this is that any study privileging an “original” must account for this choice in other terms, for example by appealing to the intrinsic text’s literary, artistic, philosophical, historical, or other merits. Failing to do so, its findings are apt to be discounted by scholars who do not adhere to the aforementioned hierarchy. Overall, the reconstruction of “original” or early historical forms of early Chinese texts is, in most cases, practically untenable. Further to this, the paradigm of “originals” does not even stand up as a meaningful theoretical category in its own right. Any study that utilises this paradigm must fall back on an evaluation of the text in other terms, if it is to be compelling. Therefore, the continued tending of early Chinese text studies towards imaginary “original” forms (and to a lesser extent, early historical text forms) not only as a major category of research, but also as the basis for paradigms of text wholeness, is highly problematic. (As demonstrated in the case of Zhuangzi scholarship, this trend causes potentially interesting texts to be either overlooked or investigated only as means to the end of retrieving “originals.”) These practical and theoretical issues are bypassed in studies that engage with the intrinsic text, in either content or structure, as an end in itself. As Wolfgang Iser (1926–2007), explaining the basis for his reader-response theory, argues, literature sets itself apart through its function in the production of a new reality in and through reading: If the study of literature arises from our concern with texts, there can be no denying the importance of what happens to us through these texts. For this reason the literary work is to be considered not as a documentary record of something that exists or has existed, but as a reformulation of an already formulated reality, which brings into the world something that did not exist before. 20 20 The Act of Reading (London: John Hopkins Press, 1978), x. 14 Insofar as there are early Chinese texts that may be classified as “literature,” there are grounds for simply approaching them “as they are,” with methods sympathetic to what they can do, here and now, with their apparent content or structure. In spite of this strong theoretical precedent however, such approaches are still under- and unevenly represented in the scholarship of the early Chinese corpus. As discussed above in connection to the Zhuangzi, the field is more inclined to evaluate the content or structure of texts that already hold legitimacy within longstanding traditions of reconstructing “originals.” And when it comes to the identification of content or structural wholes, scholars tend to look for this within units of texts that have already been designated as whole or coherent by earlier scholarship, as clearly demonstrated by the case of Huainanzi 淮南子. Traditionally categorised, per the Han imperial librarians, as “miscellaneous” (za 雜 or zajia 雜家), subsequent scholarship has taken it for granted that Huainanzi should lack a unifying thought system or other intrinsic feature that would recommend it as a conceptual whole. While some systematic challenges to this assumption have emerged in contemporary Huainanzi scholarship, there is still a long way to go. 21 Engaging with the “intrinsic” texts of early Chinese literature moreover presents its own practical and methodological conundrums. The opacity of most early Chinese texts, as discussed earlier, means that effective evaluations of their intrinsic features cannot be achieved without first completing some reconstruction of their earlier, presumably more transparent forms. Most attempts to read these texts “as they are” still end up falling back on what I have called “empirical work.”22 Whatever the research aim, most studies of early See the discussion in part Two of chapter Two. Attempts to appraise early Chinese literature without any recourse to technical reconstruction have historically met with a mixed responses; consider Ezra Pound’s (1885–1972) modernist translations of the Shijing 詩經 (Classics of Songs), Shih-ching The Classic Anthology Defined by Confucius (London: Faber and Faber, 1954). (Though Pound had no sinological training of his own, he did refer to existing research.) 21 22 15 Chinese texts in practise inevitably involve the synergistic blending of intrinsic text-focused and reconstruction-focused strategies.23 Overall, the scholarship of early Chinese texts in earlier periods was primarily concerned with the reconstruction of imagined originals, later diversifying into the empirical reconstruction of historical text forms, and lastly, the evaluation of the content and structural features of the intrinsic text. In spite of the promising nature of work in the latter two approaches, in addition to the practical and theoretical constraints that hinder the pursuit of “original” or early historical text forms, the former two approaches have nevertheless remained dominant, sometimes in ways that are not entirely intended by scholars.24 It is in this context that the field has been disproportionately inclined in favour of the first (and, to a Content and structural features of the intrinsic text can be taken as valuable evidence in reconstruction. Many strong examples of early China scholars consciously blending or hybridising strategies from text and literary critical approaches with success are to be found in work on poetry. Compare with Pound’s Arthur Waley’s (1889–1966) work on the Shijing (and other texts.) Waley, the most prolific twentieth-century European scholar of premodern Chinese and Japanese poetry, was by all accounts a formidable philologist. See for example his study “The Book of Changes,” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 5 (1933): 121–42, where he engages with, among others, Édouard Chavannes (1865–1918) and Bernhard Karlgren (1889–1978). It is beyond the purview of this project to comment categorically in favour for or against any given theoretical movement in text or literary criticism. Friedrich Nietzsche’s (1844–1900) inaugural lecture at Basel University, 28th May 1869 “Homer and Classical Philology” (“Homer und die klassische Philologie”) remains a relevant statement on the “mixed” scientific and artistic nature of European classical philology. Wolfgang Iser sets up a phenomenological critique of both classical literary criticism and the New Criticism that followed and opposed this in the twentieth century in “Chapter One: Partial Art – Total Interpretation” in The Act of Reading, 3–19. Paul de Man (1919–1983) reappraised the relationship between classical and New criticism from the standpoint of a further method, semiology, in “Semiology and rhetoric,” in Textual Strategies: Perspectives in PostStructuralist Criticism, ed. Josué V. Harari, 121–40 (New York: Cornell University Press, 1979). Classical and New criticism take as their objectives two mutually opposed kinds of meaning (representational and formal, respectively.) As de Man explains, semiology, “as opposed to semantics, is the science or study of signs as signifiers,” (123) removing meaning (qua semantics) from the equation entirely. The meta-discussion of theoretical movements specific to Chinese text scholarship, from kaozhengxue 考證學 (“evidential scholarship”) onwards, is reviewed in chapter One, part Three. 24 A notable intentional sponsor of the research objective of reconstructing idealised “originals” would be contemporary political actors working to support the nationalist discourse of the modern Chinese state. Accounts of the ancient origins of foundational Chinese literary works are apt to be subtended to narratives extolling the age and continuity of a monolithic Chinese culture. See Zhang Fenzhi, Xi Jinping: How to Read Confucius and Other Chinese Classical Thinkers (New York: CN Times Books, 2015). A Chinese edition (Xi Dada shuo women ruhe du jingdian 习大大说我们如何读经典) was published in parallel. 23 16 lesser extent, the second) of the four categories of conceptions of text wholeness posited earlier. It is often taken for granted that “text wholeness” refers to resemblance to an imagined original (or early historical) text form, and the possibility of structural or content text wholeness in many cases remains disproportionately underexplored. It is in this context that a much more comprehensive and theoretically-robust paradigm of text wholeness is needed. This project meets this need by positing a model of text wholeness that, as stated, does not refer to a property of texts in and of themselves, but to a contingent hermeneutical device or function within the open, kaleidoscopic process of reading, itself negotiated and renegotiated through this very process. In other words, wholeness is negotiated and achieved not by texts, but in the process of reading. 17 Corpus The present project incorporates two close, interconnected case studies centring on three texts, Mu Shi 牧誓 (The Mu Harangue), Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng 武成 (War’s Completion), texts chosen to represent the range of genre, subject matter, format, authoritativeness, and historical trajectory seen among the prose literature of early China. The pseudo-documentary Mu Shi and Wu Cheng purport to bear witness to speeches given by King Wu of Zhou 周武王, while Huainanzi is an encyclopaedic cosmological treatise that transcends any contingent finite application. 25 And while Mu Shi in its current form dates to sometime during the Eastern Zhou 周 (c. 770–221 BC), Wu Cheng is accepted as a fourth century AD “forgery” (wei 偽).26 The scholarship of these three texts moreover is representative of how the problem of text wholeness is understood and handled in the early China field at large. Historically, the scholarship of these texts has, just like early Chinese text scholarship in general, approached the question of these texts’ wholeness primarily in terms of resemblance to sought-after “original” forms, and second to this, early historical forms. While a growing array of scholarship has emerged in recent years evaluating these texts as narrative, philosophical, or religious works in their own right, there is still no comprehensive account of the wholeness (or lack thereof) of the intrinsic texts of the complete Mu Shi, Huainanzi, or Wu Cheng. I make no comment on how accurately figures and events in Mu Shi and Wu Cheng serve to depict any apparent historical counterparts. The historical King Wu of Zhou reigned 1046–1043 BC. 26 See the discussion of Wu Cheng’s “forgery” in chapter Two, parts Two and Three. 25 18 Mu Shi Mu Shi is collected within the so-called “New Text” (jinwen 今文) recension of the Shangshu 尚書 (Venerated Documents).27 The Shangshu, also called Shujing 書經 (Classic of Documents),28 is a self-styled primary historical source consisting of “documents” (shu 書) containing important speeches and other ritualised activities attributed to the political leaders and culture heroes of the Xia 夏 (c. 2070–c. 1600 BC), Shang 商 (c. 1600–1046 BC), and Western Zhou (c. 1045–771 BC) dynasties.29 The documents anthologised in the New Text Shangshu have long and complex histories, reaching back at least as far as the Eastern Zhou. Throughout every epoch during the past two millennia, they have served as one corner of China’s foundational literature. In this capacity, they have been used as cultural authorities, sources of axiomatic moral wisdom, and relics of a fundamental political philosophy. Mu Shi, for its part, appears under the Zhou Shu 周書 (Zhou Documents) division of the Some scholars prefer to translate Wen 文 as “Script” in this instance; see for example Dirk Meyer, Documentation and Argument in Early China: The Shàngshū 尚書 (Venerated Documents) and the “Shū” Traditions (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming), 8. 28 “Shangshu” and “Shujing” typically connote texts canonised in the imperial period. For the earlier period predating canonisation, shu 書 (documents, writings) generally applies. Note that titles were often determined haphazardly and retrospectively in the early period. For theories on the origins, meanings, and applications of the terms “Shangshu”, “Shujing”, and “shu”, see Paul Pelliot, “Le Chou king en caractères anciens et Le Chang chou che wen,” in Mémoires Concernant l’Asie Orientale (Inde, Asie centrale, Extrême-Orient) vol. 2, ed. Emile Senart, Édouard Chavannes, and Henri Cordier, 123–76 (Paris: L’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 1916), 124, footnote 1; Jiang Shanguo 蔣善國, Shangshu zongshu 尚書綜述 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1988), 1–3; and Michael Nylan, The Five “Confucian” Classics (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 125–6. 29 An absolute chronology of the Western Zhou, in English, is proposed in the appendices of Edward L. Shaughnessy’s Sources of Western Zhou History: Inscribed Bronze Vessels (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), though this is not without problems; see Sarah Allan’s review in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 55.3 (1992): 585–7. For a critical overview of the astro-historiographical methods used to fix dates for the key events in the Zhou and earlier, including the Xia–Shang–Zhou Chronology Project (Xia Shang Zhou duandai gongcheng 夏商周断代工程) directed by Li Xueqin 李學勤, see Douglas Keenan, “Astro-historiographic chronologies of early China are unfounded,” East Asian History 23 (2002): 61–8. 27 19 New Text.30 It is one of multiple “harangues” (shi 誓) collected in the recension,31 along with Gan Shi 甘誓 (Gan Harangue), Tang Shi 湯誓 (The Tang Harangue), Bi Shi 費誓 (The Bi Harangue, alternatively 肸誓 or 粊誓),32 and Qin Shi 秦誓 (Qin’s Harangue).33 The text purports to bear witness to the verbatim speech of King Wu on the occasion of the military campaign to inaugurate the Zhou dynasty. While it is traditionally believed to be roughly contemporaneous with the events that it depicts, modern philological research suggests that the text is, at the earliest, an Eastern Zhou composition, 34 with some scholars, such as Zhang Xitang 張西堂 (1901–1960) and Chen Mengjia 陳夢家 (1911–1966), explicitly claiming that the composition largely dates to the Warring States period. 35 Several scholars moreover have posited that the received Mu Shi once formed an epilogue to another Shangshu text, the Tai For the Shangshu divisions, see page 44–5. Like the rest of the New Text, Mu Shi also appears (under the same division) in the Old Text (guwen 古文) Shangshu. The Old Text was compiled, confusingly enough, during the fourth century AD; see chapter One, part Two. 31 Harangues as a distinct category or “genre” of shu text emerges later. To use Dirk Meyer’s description of the Charges (Ming 命), this is “a retrospectively imposed category rather than a set of conventions that drove the initial text production.” “Recontextualization and Memory Production: Debates on Rulership as Reconstructed from ‘Gu ming’ 顧命,” in Martin Kern and Meyer, Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy: Studies in the Composition and Thought of the Shangshu (Classic of Documents) (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 107. 32 For a dedicated study, see Maria Khayutina, “‘Bi shi’ 粊誓, Western Zhou Oath Texts, and the Legal Culture of Early China,” in Kern and Meyer, Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy, 416–45. 33 A chapter entitled Shang Shi 商誓 (The Shang Harangue) also appears in the Yi Zhou Shu 逸周書 (Remnant Zhou Documents). 34 Shaughnessy, “Shang Shu,” 378–9. 35 See Zhang, Shangshu yinlun 尚書引論 (Xi’an: Shaanxi renmin chubanshe, 1958), 186–7. Chen places Mu Shi under the category of “Shi harangues produced in the Warring States period as emulations [of earlier text-styles]” (“戰國時代擬作的誓”), affirming that “one simply cannot maintain that the Yu Shu, Xia Shu, Shang Shu, and Zhou Shu in the New Text Shangshu accordingly belong to the Yu, Xia, Shang, or Zhou time periods.” (“…今文尚書並不能依照 ‘虞書’ ‘夏書’ ‘商書’ ‘周書’ 而認定它們分屬于虞、夏、商、周的時代的。” Shangshu tonglun 尚書通論 [Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1957], 112.) The ongoing dispute surrounding the dating of the received Mu Shi is summarised in Jiang, Zongshu, 138, 226–7, and Lü Xisheng 呂锡生, “Guanyu Mu Shi de chengshu niandai wenti” 關於《牧誓》的成書年代問題, in Zhongguo lishi wenxian yanjiu 中國歷史文獻研究 vol. 1, ed. Zhang Shunhui 張舜徽, 48–54 (Wuchang: Huazhong shifan daxue chubanshe, 1986). Jiang cannot agree that the composition dates from as late as the Warring States period; Lü critiques scholars such as Gu Jiegang 顧頡剛 (1893–1980) and Yu Xingwu 于省吾 (1896–1984) for disqualifying Mu Shi as an early Zhou composition. 30 20 Shi 泰誓 (The Great Harangue, alternatively 太誓).36 A vast body of commentary, exegesis, and research has grown up around the New Text Shangshu over the centuries. Much of this scholarship pursued the “original” Shangshu described in traditional accounts of Confucius’ compilation of the text. In earlier centuries, this legendary original was pursued through traditional exegetical practice (xungu 訓詁), and later on, during the Qing 清 (1644–1911), through “evidential” text scholarship (kaozhengxue 考證學). However, during the first half of the twentieth century, with intellectual movements such as the Doubting Antiquity School (Yigu pai 疑古派), paralleling radical reappraisals of classical philology underway around the same time in Europe, scepticism towards the idea of a “real” original Shangshu ascribable to Confucius mounted.37 In this new intellectual climate, scholarship shifted in favour of objective reconstructions of Shangshu’s history and historical forms, led by positive evidence. The notion of an “original” Shangshu has nevertheless persisted, not as the legendary lost product of Confucius’ editorial hand, but in the more intangible idea of an “original meaning” or “intention” (benyi 本意) behind the attested words of the early kings. In the contemporary period, Shanghu research been largely focused on the question of the role and utility of these texts as historical sources. In aid of this, much work has been done to reconstruct their history and historical forms. This work has moreover been significantly hastened by discoveries of a number of excavated texts relating to the received text among caches recently unearthed in mainland China. In keeping with these research questions, the field continues to be dominated by empirical approaches, as seen in the spread of specialisms Jiang, Zongshu, 226. The received Tai Shi only appears in the Old Text Shangshu recension. For the text’s convoluted early history, see Chen, Shangshu tonglun, 53–68; and Jiang, Zongshu, 49–50; 135–6. The edition of Mu Shi used in this study is Sun Xingyan 孫星衍, Shangshu jin gu wen zhushu 尚書今古文注疏 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2014), 282–90. 37 For the Doubting Antiquity School, see pages 59–60 in chapter One. 36 21 among the most prominent Shangshu scholars from the 1960s onwards – Gu Jiegang 顧頡剛 (1893–1980), Jiang Shanguo 蔣善國 (1898–1986), Qu Wanli 屈萬里 (1907–1979), Liu Qiyu 劉起釪 (1917–2012), and more recently, Sarah Allan, Qian Zongwu 錢宗武, Michael Nylan, and Edward L. Shaughnessy are palaeographers, linguists, text historians, intellectual historians, or some combination of the four. 38 In addition to this empirical text work, contemporary Shangshu scholarship has also witnessed the emergence of a modest amount of literary and theoretical work, reflecting a broader trend in early Chinese text studies. Haun Saussy’s and Martin Kern’s various studies of the Shijing 詩經 (Classics of Songs),39 Schaberg’s study of the Guoyu and Zuo Zhuan,40 and Meyer’s study of the cache excavated at Guodian, 41 to give a number of prominent examples, all deemphasise the objective reconstruction of historical text meaning to focus instead on the features and functions of early Chinese texts as poetry, philosophy, and literature in their own right.42 Many of these studies engage directly with theoretical problems In addition to references discussed throughout the Shangshu bibliographical chapter as well as the bibliography of the present thesis, Shih Hsiang-lin, “Shang shu 尚書 (Hallowed writings of antiquity),” in Ancient and Early Medieval Chinese Literature (vol. 2): A Reference Guide, Part Two Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section 4, China, ed. David R. Knechtges and Chang Taiping, 815–30 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 820–30 includes a comprehensive bibliography of all forms of contemporary (as of 2013) scholarship on the text, in all languages. 39 See Saussy’s The Problem of a Chinese Aesthetic (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993) and Kern’s “Lost in Tradition: The Classic of Poetry We Did Not Know,” Hsiang Lectures on Chinese Poetry 5 (2010): 29–56; “Tropes of Music and Poetry: From Wudi (141–87 BCE) to 100 CE,” in China’s Early Empires: A Re-Appraisal, ed. Michael Loewe and Michael Nylan, 480–91 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); “Beyond the Mao Odes: Shijing Reception in Early Medieval China,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 127 (2007): 131–42; “The Performance of Writing in Western Zhou China,” in The Poetics of Grammar and the Metaphysics of Sound and Sign, ed. Sergio La Porta and David Shulman, 109–76 (Leiden: Brill, 2007); and “Excavated Manuscripts and Their Socratic Pleasures: Newly Discovered Challenges in Reading the ‘Airs of the States’,” Études Asiatiques/Asiatische Studien 61.3 (2007): 775–93. 40 A Patterned Past. 41 Philosophy on Bamboo. 42 This is still a somewhat novel approach in the study of foundational texts across all cultures and regions. See Robert Alter’s literary study of the biblical Old Testament, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981) for an example of this in another early text field. 38 22 presented by literary engagements with these texts.43 Since the 1980s, a modest number of articles and two books have steadily appeared offering rubrics for categorising the literary features of the Shangshu, as well as seeking to explain the causes and effects of these features within the wider literary history of premodern China.44 And more recently, two book-length projects have appeared not only re-conceptualising how the New Text documents were formed and reformulated, but also engaging with them as works of literature and philosophy in their own right. These are Martin Kern and Dirk Meyer’s edited volume Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy: Studies in the Composition and Thought of the Shangshu (Classic of Documents) and Meyer’s book Documentation and Argument in Early China: The Shàngshū 尚書 (Venerated Documents) and the “Shū” Traditions. Scholarship of Mu Shi specifically has been no exception to these trends. Early exegetes were concerned with retrieving the “original” Mu Shi, imagined as a contemporaneous record of early Zhou history, edited by Confucius himself. Much contemporary scholarship is concerned with demystifying the diachronic reformulation process of the Mu Shi narrative,45 See Saussy, The Problem of a Chinese Aesthetic, 1–46, and Schaberg, A Patterned Past, 10–1 in particular for example statements on these theoretical problems. 44 These are, in chronological order, Hu Nianyi 胡念貽, “Shangshu de sanwen yishu ji qi zai wenxueshi shang de diwei he yingxiang”《尚書》的散文藝術及其在文學史上的地位和影響, Shehui kexue zhanxian 社會科學戰線 (1981 no.1): 224–34; Chang Kang 常康, “Shitan Shangshu de yuyan yishu” 試談《尚書》的語言藝術, Neimenggu shida xuebao (Hanwen zhexue shehui kexue ban) 內蒙古師大學報（漢文哲學社會科學版）(1986 no.2): 85–91; Yin Diting 尹砥廷, “Shilun Shangshu yuyan de wenxuexing” 試論《尚書》語言的文學性, Jishou daxue xuebao (Shehui kexue ban) 吉首大學學報（社會科學版） 18.1 (1987): 61–6; Hao Mingchao 郝明朝, “Lun Shangshu de wenxue jiazhi” 論《尚書》的文學價值, Qi Lu xuekan 齊魯學刊 (Qi Lu Journal) (1998 no.4): 15– 21; Wang Wenqing 王文清, “Lun Shangshu sanwen de yishu fengge tedian” 論《尚書》散文的藝術風格特點, Shandong shehui kexue 山東社會科學 70.6 (1998): 77–9; Yu Xuetang 于雪棠, “Shangshu wenti fenlei ji xingwei yu wenti de guanxi”《尚書》文體分類及行為與文體的關係, Beifang luncong 北方論叢 196.2 (2006): 8–11; and Pan Li 潘莉, “Shangshu wenti de fenlei, xingzhi ji chengyin yanjiu shuping”《尚書》文體的分類、性質及成因研究述評, Shanhua 山花 (2015 no.5): 119–21; her subsequent book Shangshu wenti leixing yu chengyin yanjiu 《尚書》文體類型與成因研究 (Beijing: Zhishi chanquan chubanshe, 2016); and Ye Xiucheng 葉修成, Xi Zhou lizhi yu Shangshu wenti yanjiu 西周禮制與《尚書》文體研究 (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2016). 45 The received text Mu Shi corresponds to the fifth and final of Martin Kern’s diachronic stages in the historical reformulation of Shangshu narratives; see note 100, page 49. Kern is explicit that, 43 23 reconstructing historical manifestations of this narrative, dating these, and establishing their utility as sources of history.46 Archaeological and anthropological approaches have enabled modern scholars to make substantial advances here; while much remains speculative, findings suggest that, prior to the anthologisation of the received text within the Shangshu, the Mu Shi narrative would have manifested in forms of ritualised performance. 47 In this “empirical” scholarship, the wholeness of Mu Shi, as with the other documents collected in the New Text, is conceptualised as a function of resemblance to historical forms of the text. Nevertheless, as “[e]xcept for some extremely brief quotations or references, we have no information regarding the [harangue] speeches’ possible textual transmission outside the anthology of the Shangshu.” “The ‘Harangues’,” 289. 46 For example, Jin Jiuhong 金久紅, “Shangshu Mu Shi yu Yin Zhou lishi” 《尚書·牧誓》與殷周歷史, Handan shizhuan xuebao 邯鄲師專學報 (Journal of Handan Teachers College) 14.4 (Dec. 2004): 30–4: 41 contextualises references in Mu Shi against aspects of Shang and Zhou history as known from other sources. 47 Henri Maspero (1883–1945) believed that there were two types of Shangshu text, the offspring of libretti (“livrets”) produced “[t]o direct the great pantomimes which accompanied the sacrifices honouring the ancestors of the dynasty,” and texts “mixing the narrative style of the pantomime librettos with a purely documentary style,” referring to the dry and solemn style of bronze inscription texts (“mêlant ainsi le style narratif des livrets de pantomime au style purement documentaire,” La Chine Antique, second edition [Paris: Les Presses universitaires de France, 1965], 227.) He attested that not only Mu Shi but also Tai Shi and Wu Cheng correspond to sections of the Da Wu 大武 (Great Martiality) – a multimedia ritual performance suite portraying Wu’s victory over the Shang – citing “the precise and minute description of ritual movements by dancers” in Mu Shi as evidence of this (La Chine Antique, 226). Da Wu is described in the Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites); see Sun Xidan 孫希旦, Liji jijie 禮記集解 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1989), 1021–9. For a classic study, see Wang Guowei, “Zhou Da Wu yuezhang kao” 周大武樂章考, in Wang Guowei yishu 王國維遺書, 118–122 (Shanghai: Shanghai shudian chubanshe, 1983); and for a more contemporary study, see Sun Zuoyun 孫作雲, Shijing yu Zhou dai shehui yanjiu 詩經與周代社會研究 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1966), 239–72. Decades later, in a 1981 paper arguing that “Mu Shi is the oath of a war-dance,” Liu Qiyu cites a conversation with Gu Jiegang in which the latter claims, recalling Maspero, that Mu Shi emerged from, and preserves the choreography of, Da Wu. In contrast, Liu hypothesises that an earlier Mu Shi gave a direct account of a real war-dance performed in advance of the historical battle; see “Mu Shi shi yi pian zhanzheng wudao de shici” 《牧誓》是一篇戰爭舞蹈的誓詞, Zhongguo Gudaishi Luncong 中國古代史論叢 3 (1981): 161–74: see 164; 168; 173 in particular. Liu’s hypothesis has been expanded with reference to modern archaeological finds, including what appear to be dance props, in Yang Hua 楊華, “Shangshu Mu Shi xinkao” 《尚書·牧誓》新考, Shixue Yuekan 史學月刊 (1996 no.5): 2–5. For a contemporary study of the relationship of the early literature to Western Zhou court ritual, see Kern, “Bronze inscriptions, the Shijing and the Shangshu: the evolution of the ancestral sacrifice during the Western Zhou,” in Early Chinese Religion, Part One: Shang Through Han (1250 BC-220 AD): Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 4, China, 2 vols., ed. John Lagerwey and Marc Kalinowski, 143–200 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). Kern sees “the hymns, speeches and inscriptions as the work of ritual specialists who composed these texts in an institutional framework,” 151. 24 in the scholarship of the New Text as a whole, much of this work often leans into the paradigm of the “original” text, in pursuing the intangible “original intent” (benyi) behind the text. In addition to this, one can find discussions of Mu Shi as a literary and philosophical piece, and by extension, the possibility of content- or structural wholeness. However, these discussions come as part of broader surveys of the formal, literary, or ideological characteristics of harangue-type Shangshu texts as a set, if not New Text Shangshu texts in general. I am not presently aware of any study of the complete received Mu Shi as a work of literature or political philosophy in its own right, nor any account of the wholeness (or lack thereof) of the intrinsic text.48 Huainanzi Huainanzi (lit. Masters of Huainan) is an early Western Han cosmological text, produced at the court of the kingdom of Huainan 淮南.49 In 139 BC, the text was presented to Emperor Wu of Han 漢武帝 (r. 140–87 BC) by his own uncle and second king of Huainan, Liu An 劉安 (c. 179–122 BC), under the simple title of Neishu 内書 (Inner Writings).50 The finer The most-studied individual Shangshu texts are Yao Dian 堯典 (Canon of Yao) and Yu Gong 禹貢 (Tribute of Yu); see Shih, “Shang shu,” 825–7. 49 Located at the site of the modern-day city of Huainan in Anhui 安徽 province. 50 The occasion is described in Liu An’s official biographies in Sima Qian’s 司馬遷 (d. c. 86 BC) Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian) and Ban Gu’s 班固 (32–92) Hanshu 漢書 (Book of the Han), as well as in Gao You’s 高誘 (c. 168–212) preface to his commentary to Huainanzi. See Shiji (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), 3075–98; Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962), 2135–58; and He Ning 何寧, Huainanzi jishi 淮南子集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2014), 4–8. Benjamin Wallacker translates Gao’s preface in full in The Huai-nan-tzu, Book Eleven: Behavior, Culture, and the Cosmos (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1962), 4–9. Martin Kern posits that the presentation of Huainanzi at the Han court would have taken the form of a “splendid verbal performance.” “Creating a Book and Performing It: The ‘Yao lüe’ Chapter of the Huainanzi as a Western Han Fu,” in The Huainanzi and Textual Production in Early China, ed. Sarah A. Queen and Michael Puett, 124–50 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 130. In addition to the Neishu, Liu An’s court produced Zhongpian 中篇 (Central Chapters) and 48 25 details of the text’s composition process, as well as the identity and role of a possible author, remain the subject of debate. Huainanzi comprises of twenty-one treatises (xun 訓), normally called “chapters”, each of which encapsulates a body of technical knowledge. Their content ranges from the practical milieus of military strategy, forestry, and agriculture, to mythology, esoteric arts, and religious practices, to proto-science, metaphysics, and cosmogony. Taken as a whole, this cycle of essays fleshes out a comprehensive cosmological schema that serves to fully represent all reality, for all time. By Huainanzi’s own explicit claim, the ruler who digests this cosmological schema will understand and master the fundamental workings of the realm and beyond, making the text the ultimate ruler’s manual. 51 With its ambitious claim to absolute knowledge, Huainanzi had a notable impact on protoscientific thought throughout the premodern period, from the natural philosophy of Wang Chong’s 王充 (27–100) Lunheng 論衡 (Discourses Balanced) to the Song 宋 (960–1279) encyclopaedia Taiping yulan 太平御覽 (Imperial overview of the Taiping period). However, Huainanzi has been consistently understudied relative to other early texts during the modern period. As with Mu Shi, what work has been done has focused largely on the reconstruction of the text’s earliest history and historical, if not “original,” form(s). Though early text history is much better attested in the Huainanzi case than in Mu Shi’s, empirical Huainanzi text scholarship has begun to catch up to that of the Shangshu (in terms of both output volume and methodological sophistication) only very recently. Following a series of critical translations in Japanese in the 1910s and 1920s, there were no major developments for Waishu 外書 (Outer Book). While Neishu is the only survivor from the trilogy, Qing scholars reconstituted fragments of the Zhongpian, a manual of alchemical practice, from various encyclopaedia and commentaries. See Harold Roth, Textual History of the Huai-nan zi (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992), 12; 16. 51 The edition used in this study is He, Jishi. 26 several decades.52 Then, from the late 1950s onwards, translations and studies of individual chapters in Western languages began to appear. 53 A complete French edition was released in 2003 as part of the Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade.54 The first complete English edition, The Essential Huainanzi, was released in 2012, a result of collaborative efforts between John S. Major, Sarah A. Queen, Andrew Seth Meyer, and Harold D. Roth.55 Separate to these critical translations, the first modern book-length studies of the texts – Roth’s Textual History of the Huai-nan zi (1992) and Griet Vankeerberghen’s The Huainanzi and Liu An’s Claim to Moral Authority (2001) – both investigate aspects of the text’s production, transmission, and reception. In addition to this translation and empirical work, there has been a stream of interest in the text’s religious and philosophical content. In addition to research on Huainanzi as an artefact of early religious thought and practice,56 a number of scholars, including John S. Major, Charles Le Blanc, and Michael Puett, have built on the earlier work of Fung Yu-lan 馮友蘭 (1895–1990) and Dai Junren 戴君仁 (1901–1978) to explore the text’s ethical, metaphysical, and proto-scientific claims.57 There has also been a modest amount of interest in Huainanzi Hattori Unokichi’s 服部宇之吉 (1867–1939) translation in Kambun taikei 漢文大系 20 (Tokyo: Fuzambo, 1915), Kikuchi Bankō’s 菊地晚香 (Sankurō 三九郎; 1859–1923) translation in Kanseki kokujikai zensho 漢籍國字解全書 43–4 (Tokyo: Waseda daigaku shuppanbu, 1917), and Gotō Asatarō’s 後藤朝太郎 (1881–1945) translation in Kokuyaku kambun taisei 國譯漢文大成 11 (Tokyo: Kokomin bunko kankōkai, 1921). 53 In 1957–8, Eva Kraft translated chapters One and Two; in 1962, Benjamin Wallacker translated Eleven; in 1982, Claude Larre partially translated Seven (into French); in 1983, Roger Ames translated Nine; in 1985, Le Blanc translated Six; and in 1993, John S. Major released a translation of Three, Four, and Five. Roth also mentions four “rare or unpublished” translations; Textual History, 14. 54 Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2: Huainan zi. Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade No. 494 (Paris: Gallimard). 55 New York: Columbia University Press. 56 See references in major essay collections on early Chinese religion, for example Livia Kohn, ed., Daoism Handbook (Leiden: Brill, 2000); and Lagerwey and Kalinowski, Early Chinese Religion, Part One. 57 Fung’s work includes “Huainanzi guanyu ‘qi’ de weiwuzhuyi de lilun” 《淮南子》關於 “氣” 的唯物主義的理論, in Zhongguo zhexueshi xinbian 中國哲學史新編 vol. 3, 139–45 (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1989); Dai’s includes “Zajia yu Huainanzi” 雜家與淮南子 and “Huainanzi de sixiang” 淮 52 27 as literature. In addition to recent articles exploring the relationship between the text’s literary features and its cosmological ideas, the essay anthology The Huainanzi and Textual Production in Early China, edited by Queen and Puett and released in 2014, examines the literary strategies through which the Huainanzian cosmological project is borne out. 58 The Huainanzi and Textual Production represents the first and only book-length collection of essays on the text in English to date. Beyond these examples, however, interest in Huainanzi as literature, philosophy, or religious thought in its own right remains comparatively scarce. As with Mu Shi, Huainanzi scholarship largely conceptualises the text’s wholeness (or, more often than not, lack thereof) as a function of resemblance to either an original or historical text form(s) in need of restoration, while lacking a suitably lively discussion of the possibility of intrinsic wholeness (though, compared with Mu Shi, this is for very different reasons.) As noted on page 15 above, scholars historically have taken it for granted that Huainanzi is a “miscellany” of genres, literary styles, and philosophical systems lacking any unity of content or form. It is only with the few publications mentioned above that the field has begun to take it seriously that Huainanzi may, in fact, form an intrinsic whole. Still, with 南子的思想, in Dai Jingshan Xiansheng quanji 戴靜山先生全集, 885–910; 286–300 (Taipei: Dai Gu Zhiyuan, 1980). See Major, Heaven and earth in early Han thought: Chapters three, four and five of the Huainanzi (Albany: State University of New York Press, c. 1993); Le Blanc, Huai-Nan Tzu 淮南子: Philosophical Synthesis in Early Han Thought: The Idea of Resonance (Kan-Ying 感應) With a Translation and Analysis of Chapter Six (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1985); and “From Ontology to Cosmology: Notes on Chuang Tzu and Huai-nan Tzu,” in Chinese Ideas About Nature and Society: Studies in Honour of Derk Bodde, ed. Charles Le Blanc and Susan Blader, 117– 29 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1987). Puett has explored Huainanzi’s philosophy across numerous publications, not limited to To Become A God: Cosmology, Sacrifice, and Self-Divinization in Early China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002), 259–86; “The Temptations of Sagehood, or: The Rise and Decline of Sagely Writing in Early China,” in Books in Numbers: Seventy-Fifth Anniversary of the HarvardYenching Library Conference Papers, ed. Wilt L. Idema, 23–47 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007); and “Violent Misreadings: The Hermeneutics of Cosmology in the Huainanzi,” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 72 (2000): 29–47. 58 See the articles Judson B. Murray, “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’ 要略, ‘A Summary Of The Essentials’: The Huainanzi 淮南子 From the Point of View of the Postface,” Early China 29 (2004): 45–109; and Tobias Zürn, “Overgrown Courtyards and Tilled Fields: Image-based debates on governance and body-politics in the Mengzi, Zhuangzi, and Huainanzi,” Early China 41 (2018): 1–36. 28 the text’s large size, this scholarship tends to take the form of either broad overviews of the complete text focusing on its consistency in the use of one particular concept or motif, or on the other hand, assessments of the content or structural wholeness of one (or occasionally two) of the text’s twenty-one chapters. Wu Cheng Wu Cheng is collected in the Old Text (guwen 古文) Shangshu, the second of the two recensions that make up the received Shangshu anthology. Since the Qing, it has been widely understood that texts particular to the Old Text were compiled in the fourth century AD. Even though these texts (Wu Cheng included) incorporate very old fragments and ideas, many scholars nevertheless regard them as “forgeries” (wei) on account of their later compilation date. In spite of its “forged” origins, Wu Cheng exhibits a range of morphological, stylistic, and thematic features that have come to be considered paradigmatic of Shangshu literature. Like Mu Shi, it claims to transcribe the “verbatim” speech of a king (King Wu of Zhou), which it sets within a framing narrative, and in which it uses distinctly literary and rhetorical strategies to present ideas of a political and philosophical nature. 59 The academic discourse on Wu Cheng (as with the rest of the Old Text) is dictated by the concerns of Shangshu scholarship as a whole. Shangshu scholarship is interested in the empirical reconstruction of texts’ earliest historical forms, and where Wu Cheng is concerned, this has, since the Qing, translated into a preoccupation with the lack of corresponding forms for the text in the pre-imperial period. Moreover, Shangshu scholarship as a whole is very much concerned with the notion of “original texts,” generating discussion of Wu Cheng as a The edition used in this study is Li Xueqin, Kong Anguo 孔安國, and Kong Yingda, Shangshu Zhengyi 尚書正義 (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1999). 59 29 red herring in the pursuit of an idealised “original Shangshu.” While there has been renewed debate over the Old Text’s “forged” status since the early 2000s, this has focused mostly on the logical soundness of the Qing-era arguments that established the forgery; it is less interested in evaluating the texts themselves. 60 Overall, as a “forgery” with no corresponding form in the pre-imperial period, Wu Cheng is, in a sense, a Shangshu text with neither an early nor an original form, rendering moot the question of retrieving an early or “original” form by which to judge the wholeness of the received text. For the same reasons, scholars have declined to engage with the intrinsic Wu Cheng, precluding any possible discussion of wholeness in that regard. The pervasive disinterest in Wu Cheng (as well as the Old Text as a whole) is unjustified. As discussed above, the text’s “forged” origins do not preclude it from manifesting literary or cultural value (and more to this, the kind of literariness that is specific to, and constitutive of, longstanding Shangshu text traditions.) Moreover, the category of “forgery,” as it is used in the academic discourse, is simply inapplicable. As discussed at greater length in chapter One, a binary “forged-versus-authentic” rubric is inadequate for conceptualising the complex formation, transmission, and reception of the received Shangshu. The inclusion of Wu Cheng in the corpus of this project, in addition to serving the research question of text wholeness, is therefore intended to address an unwarranted lacuna in the scholarship. This tripartite corpus stands as a salient representation of the range and variety of early Chinese prose literature, in terms of intrinsic textual features and circumstances of text See Ye Xiucheng, “Jin shi nian lai Shangshu redian yanjiu zongshu” 近十年來《尚書》熱點研究綜述, Lishui xueyuan xuebao 麗水學院學報 (Journal of Lishui University) 38.4 (July 2016): 86– 92, pages 87–8 for a survey of this debate emerging “under the influence of ‘post-Doubting Antiquity’ trends in thought” (“在走出疑古時代思潮的影響下,” 87.) 60 30 production, reception, and dissemination. The scholarship around each of these texts is moreover representative of how the issue of text wholeness is handled in the field at large, reflecting commonplace trends and blind spots. Scholarship of Mu Shi, Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng – as in the early China field as a whole – is primarily concerned with the reconstruction of historical, if not “original” forms of the texts. This trend is powerfully demonstrated in the case of Wu Cheng: as a “forgery” with no counterpart “original,” so to speak, the text has been almost entirely overlooked. While the wholeness of Mu Shi (as with the New Text Shangshu overall) and Huainanzi are conceptualised primarily in terms of resemblance to early, if not original, forms, a modest amount of scholarship has emerged in recent years evaluating these texts as narrative, philosophical, or religious works in their own right, entertaining the possibility of intrinsic wholeness (of either content or structure.) In both cases however, work of this sort is extremely limited. In Huainanzi’s case, progress has been discouraged by the traditional account of the text as a “miscellany” (za), lacking any unity of content or form. To date, there has been no detailed study of any the corpus texts, in their complete received forms, accounting for the possibility of their intrinsic wholeness, in either content or structure. Overall, a much more encompassing and theoretically-robust approach to the question of text wholeness is needed in the case of each of these three texts. This project meets this with the hermeneutical model of text wholeness described above. 31 Methodology This project incorporates two close, in-depth, and interconnected case studies. The first case study looks at Mu Shi and Huainanzi, while the second looks at Huainanzi and Wu Cheng. Together, these stand to represent something of the nature of text wholeness within the wider early Chinese corpus. The case studies have two steps. The first step involves closely reading the texts in their entirety. In these readings, I relinquish any claim to reconstruction, instead identifying interesting ideas and effects in the texts, which I then extend and develop by bringing them to bear upon ideas that I introduce from other theoretical discourses drawn from outside early Chinese text studies, in a contingent and subjective encounter of text and critic. As a caveat to this, Huainanzi’s size prohibits its cover-to-cover treatment within the scope of this project. I use a two-step method for proffering a representative interpretation of the text’s encyclopaedic wealth of subject matter using a series of excerpts. First, I read excerpts from chapter Three, “Tian Wen Xun” 天文訓 (“Patterns of Heaven”), and chapter Four, “Di Xing Xun” 墬形訓 (“Forms of Terrain”), which appear among what Queen and Puett term Huainanzi’s “root” (ben 本) chapters.61 I observe that Huainanzi manifests an allencompassing cosmological schema. Next, I test and further develop my tentative interpretation of this overarching cosmological schema against specific physical and political principles, outlined in chapter Six, “Lan Ming Xun” 覽冥訓 (“Perceiving the Obscure”), and Huainanzi and Textual Production, 1–19. Andrew Meyer devotes a chapter in the same volume to the manifestations of the root-branch structural model in Huainanzi, “Root-Branches Structuralism in the Huainanzi,” 21–39. 61 32 the twentieth chapter, “Tai Zu Xun” 泰族訓 (“Highest Conglomeration”). This two-fold method of observing and testing across different chapters ensures an unbiased representation of as much of the complete Huainanzi as is permitted by the scope of the project. To date, there has been no detailed study of any the corpus texts, in their complete received forms, for their intrinsic attributes. As such, the readings produced in this first step of the case studies represent original contributions in their own right. The second step of each case study draws on these readings to mount a comparative discussion of the way(s) in which the two texts constitute wholes. This discussion is focused around a comparison of how the texts incorporate the same part – a textual parallel – into their different wholes. Textual parallelism, also referred to as “intertextuality,” refers to a phenomenon wherein same collocations of meaning recur between different early Chinese texts (however one circumscribes these), and are recognised as doing so. 62 This recurrence of This is related to, but not to be confused with, the idea of intertextuality articulated by Julia Kristeva and seen across many other works in the philosophy of language and literary theory, such as those of Roland Barthes (1915–1980) and Umberto Eco (1932–2016). The phenomenon is, by all accounts, extremely prevalent in early Chinese literature. While there is a concept of the phenomenon in the premodern scholarship, this is limited largely to the figures of explicit quotation and implicit allusion. As Paul Fischer puts it, “[p]roblems generated by textual repetitions seem to fall either under ‘quotational disparity’ or ‘quotational precedence’,” subtending questions of textual authenticity. See “Authentication Studies (辨偽學) Methodology and the Polymorphous Text Paradigm,” Early China 32 (2008): 1–43: 4–5. (See also his “Intertextuality in the Shi Zi,” Asia Major 22.2 [2009]: 1–34.) Research into the phenomenon of quotation from and by Shangshu texts includes Chen, Shangshu tonglun, 11–35; Qu Wanli, Shangshu yiwen huilu 尚書異文彙錄 (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1983); Liu Qiyu, Shangshu yuanliu ji chuanben kao 尚書源流及傳本考 (Shenyang: Liaoning daxue chubanshe, 1997), 4–24; and Chan Hung Kan 陳雄根 and Ho Che Wah 何志華, Xian Qin Liang Han dianji yin Shangshu ziliao huibian 先秦兩漢典籍引《尚書》資料彙編 (Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press, 2003), which is taken from the immensely useful CHANT concordance series (Handa guji yanjiu congshu 漢達古籍研究叢書). For a recent study of the phenomenon that incorporates recent excavated texts, see Kern, “Quotation and the Confucian canon in early Chinese manuscripts: the case of ‘Zi Yi’ (Black robes),” Asiatische Studien/Études Asiatiques 59.1 (2005): 293–332. Mark Edward Lewis also provides a summary discussion of the practice in Writing and Authority in early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 106–7 (with further references). In recent years, the field has seen a surge of interest in intertextuality beyond the question of quotation, with various scholars putting forward increasingly sophisticated accounts of what constitutes textual parallel, what these parallels reveal about the nature, function, and use of the literature, and how these might be used as a methodological category in text research. Textual criticism in manuscript studies has yielded models such as William Boltz’ textual “building blocks” 62 33 meaning may be reflected in identical collocations of linguistic categories, but as seen in the intertextual units highlighted from the project corpus (below), this is not always necessarily the case.63 The first case study utilises an intertextual unit shared between Mu Shi and Huainanzi that describes King Wu brandishing his arms as he undertakes to do battle at Mu 牧: 王左杖黃鉞，右秉白旄以麾… In his left hand the king wielded a yellow battle-axe, and in his right he gripped a white mao banner, which he waved to signal… – Mu Shi and Matthias Richter’s idea of “cognate” texts. Boltz articulates the building block theory in “Chapter 2: The Composite Nature of Early Chinese Texts,” in Text and Ritual in Early China, ed. Martin Kern, 50–78 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2005). See also “The Fourth-Century B. C. Guodiann Manuscripts from Chuu and the Composition of the Laotzyy,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 119.4 (Oct.–Dec. 1999): 590–608; and “Reading the Early Laotzyy 老子,” Asiatische Studien/Études Asiatiques 56.3 (2005): 209–32. For Richter’s cognate texts, see “Cognate Texts: Technical Terms as Indicators of Intertextual Relations and Redactional Strategies,” Asiatische Studien / Études Asiatiques LVI.3 (2002): 549–72; and “Faithful Transmission or Creative Change: Tracing Modes of Manuscript Production from the Material Evidence,” Asiatische Studien / Études Asiatiques LXIII.4 (2009): 889–908. The forms and functions of intertextuality have also been the subject of study in early poetry and philosophical literature. In a recent paper “Differentiating between Textual Reuse and Intentional Citation,” Heng Du proposes a model for distinguishing between these two forms of intertextuality based on her work on zhuzi 諸子 (“masters”) literature and the Chuci. (Paper delivered at the Association for Asian Studies 2019 conference, Denver, Colorado, 24th March 2019. This draws on Du’s work in “The Author’s Two Bodies: Paratext in Early Chinese Textual Culture.”) In addition to this qualitative work, Donald Sturgeon has also recently published a number of papers on the quantitative study of textual reuse in the corpus, based on his ongoing work on the Chinese Text Project (<https://ctext.org/>), accessed 19/11/2019. These include “Digital Approaches to Text Reuse in the Early Chinese Corpus,” Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture 5.2 (2018): 186–213; and “Unsupervised identification of text reuse in early Chinese literature,” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 33.3 (2018): 670–84. For a discussion of the Chinese Text Project (ctext), see “Chinese Text Project: a dynamic digital library of premodern Chinese.” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 2019. 12 pages. Sturgeon’s personal site introduces users to a number of “Text Tools” for enhancing the search functions of the Chinese Text Project (ctext) corpus, by creating rules allowing for degrees of graphical, orthographical, or syntactical variation on string of text. In this way, users can search the corpus for different kinds of parallelism, while precisely calibrating the “fuzziness” of this search. See <https://dsturgeon.net/texttools/>, accessed 19/11/2019. 63 Mu Shi uses the verb zhang 杖 (wield) where “Lan Ming Xun” uses cao 操 (grasp); “Tai Zu Xun” text includes genitive particle zhi 之 in each string while Wu Cheng does not; the strings related to Jizi and Shang Rong are switched between “Tai Zu Xun” and Wu Cheng; and so forth. 34 於是武王左操黃鉞，右秉白旄，瞋目而撝之… At this, King Wu grasped his yellow battle-axe in his left hand and gripped his white mao banner in his right. His eyes wide, he brandished these… – Huainanzi “Lan Ming Xun” The intertextual unit in the second case study, shared between Huainanzi and Wu Cheng, describes King Wu observing rituals to honour worthies unjustly punished by the Shang: …表商容之閭，封比干之墓，解箕子之囚。 …[he installed] a plaque at the gate of Shang Rong, raised an earthen mound [over] the tomb of Bi Gan, and released Jizi from imprisonment. – Huainanzi “Tai Zu Xun” 釋箕子囚，封比干墓，式商容閭。 [He] released Jizi from bondage, raised an earthen mound [over] Bi Gan’s tomb, and gave a crossbar salute at Shang Rong’s gate. – Wu Cheng Through this discussion of the ways in which these same intertextual parts give rise to, and work within, different emergent wholes, these case studies illuminate the nuanced, idiosyncratic, plural, enmeshed, and compounded natures of the wholenesses that emerge in the project readings. Not only can these wholenesses not be apprehended in reference to the four categories outlined on pages 2–7, but they moreover problematise underlying notions that, first, “text wholeness” refers to something discrete, objective, and immutable, and second, that this immutable something is a property of early Chinese texts themselves (past or past, apparent or idealised.) In the project conclusion, I account for this by proposing to reconceptualise “text wholeness” as a function in the reading process, something not possessed by texts, but negotiated in reading. 35 Structure The project has seven chapters. Chapters One and Two form bibliographical essays that serve as comprehensive critical surveys of the history and scholarship of Mu Shi, Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng. I introduce the history and scholarship of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng through a single essay on the Shangshu, in chapter One.64 The essay in chapter Two focuses on Huainanzi. These essays cover the texts’ formation or production, their structure, style, and content, and their transmission, reception, and study from the early period to the present day. While the question of what the “Shangshu” ultimately is or isn’t has dominated the academic discourse around this text, contests over the biographical details of Huainanzi’s supposed author have remained at the forefront of discussion there. These concerns have, in turn, shaped conceptions of the texts’ wholeness (or lack thereof.) These essays serve two key functions. First, they support and inform the interpretation of the texts within the case studies.65 Second, they represent their own studies of how the question of text wholeness has been handled in Shangshu and Huainanzi scholarship, thereby giving further substantiation to the survey in this introductory essay. Chapters Three and Four form the first case study. In chapter Three, I read and give an interpretation of the complete Mu Shi, arguing that the text inverts the structure of performative vow-making, thereby constructing a model of leadership as something that Not only are the history and scholarship of these texts tightly connected to the Shangshu recensions that they are collected in (the New and Old Text, respectively), the history and scholarship of these two recensions are moreover deeply interconnected with one another. One essay covering the two-part Shangshu anthology therefore makes most sense. 65 Further bibliographical notes on specific points within Mu Shi and Wu Cheng are also included in the footnotes of Chapters Three and Six on an ad hoc basis. 64 36 hinges on an absolute, self-effacing stoicism. In chapter Four, I give an interpretation of Huainanzi with a focus on the chapters “Tian Wen Xun”, “Di Xing Xun”, and “Lan Ming Xun”. I argue that Huainanzi develops an all-encompassing schema of the cosmos as an infinitely inter-connected fractal shape that moreover has the capacity to “observe” its own fractality. This chapter is followed by a brief concluding analysis in which I discuss how Mu Shi and Huainanzi, per my interpretations, achieve wholeness. Comparing how both texts incorporate the same intertextual unit, I conclude that the complete text of Mu Shi corresponds to a narrative whole that embeds within it a further structural whole, while Huainanzi gives rise to a geometrical whole that does not, however, correspond to any specific amount of nor selection from the text. Chapters Five, Six, and Seven form the second case study. In chapter Five, I further develop my interpretation of Huainanzi with a focus on chapter “Tai Zu Xun”. I argue that “Tai Zu Xun” develops a theory of government as the practice of realising a fractal cosmology in the political realm. This further supports and augments the interpretation of Huainanzi begun in chapter Four. Chapters Six and Seven consist in two different readings of Wu Cheng. In chapter Six, I argue that even where certain aspects of the text don’t quite fit into the morphological paradigm of a shu text, Wu Cheng as a whole manifests this paradigm. In chapter Seven, I then approach Wu Cheng as a discourse about discourse. I argue that, I argue that, even though structural operations inhere in King Wu’s discourse, he nevertheless demonstrates a kind of subjectivity within it. This chapter is followed by a brief concluding essay in which I discuss and compare how Huainanzi and Wu Cheng achieve wholeness. Of course, chapters Six and Seven show two different ways in which Wu Cheng can work as a whole. I conclude that while the complete text of Wu Cheng corresponds to a narrative whole, Wu’s direct speech within the text represents an exposition of a coherent theory of discourse. 37 This “wholeness of theory” has more in common with the coherent metaphysics that arises from the scaffold of Huainanzi’s geometrical whole. In the conclusion, I account for my findings by proposing a new “hermeneutical” model of text wholeness, which also re-contextualises the four existing paradigms of text wholeness within a wider theoretical frame. 38 Chapter One: Bibliographical introduction to the Shangshu 尚書 (Venerated Documents) The history of the Shangshu is arguably more complex than that of text any in China’s traditional literature. 66 Since the Western Han, there have been two versions in almost continuous circulation: a New Text (jinwen) version in twenty-eight chapters, and an Old Text (guwen) version in fifty-eight chapters (encompassing the material included in the New Text.)67 This corpus has expanded further with new versions of known Shangshu chapters and other related texts recovered among bamboo slip caches excavated in recent decades. As collected “documents” of antiquity, the Shangshu has traditionally been regarded as historical in nature. However, as Michael Nylan argues in The Five “Confucian” Classics, “all the Documents stories are profoundly ahistorical, in the sense that they have not been preserved in order to construct a connected sequence of events but rather to illustrate, with considerable variation in manner and content, instances of normative conduct by exemplary kings and officials.”68 In this sense, it is perhaps more accurate to say that the texts collected in the Shangshu constitute a nascent political philosophy, or at the very least, idealised explorations of early Chinese political culture and norms.69 The texts’ core themes, as Nylan distils these, include: There are numerous summary introductions to the history and contents of the Shangshu. See for example Shaughnessy, “Shang Shu,” in Early Chinese Texts: A Bibliographical Guide, ed. Michael Loewe, 376–89 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993); Shih, “Shang shu,” 815–7; Michael Nylan, “Chapter Three: The Documents (Shu 書)” in “Confucian” Classics, 120–67; and E. Bruce Brooks, “The Shu,” Warring States Papers 2 (2011): 87–90. Shih’s paper includes a comprehensive bibliography of Shangshu secondary scholarship in multiple languages. 67 The Chinese counterpart to “chapter” in the case of the Shangshu is “pian” 篇 (lit. bundle of bamboo strips). However, the terms are not exact equivalents. Several Shangshu “chapters” comprise of two or even three pian. 68 “Confucian” Classics, 122. 69 Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy is the title of the recent multi-author volume of essays on the Shangshu edited by Kern and Meyer. 66 39 “(1) the operation of the Mandate of Heaven; (2) definitions of true kingship; (3) portraits of worthy officials; (4) discussions of the relative merits of rule by punishment versus rule by virtue; and (5) explications of the role of ‘those below’ visà-vis the ruler.”70 Thematic affinity notwithstanding, there is no overarching logic to the Shangshu chapters, in the current or any organisation, that recommends them as an integral narrative or argumentative whole. Each chapter represents a discrete piece that may be read in isolation from larger divisions of the collection. From their early incarnation as diffuse shu (documents) in the Warring States period, through their initial canonisation during the Han (206 BC–220 AD), and all the way into the present, generation after generation of recipients have referred to the chapters of the Shangshu as a bedrock of cultural knowledge and political wisdom.71 In this sense, the Shangshu commands the position of a “foundational text” of Chinese civilisation, equivalent in function to the Bible or the Qur’an, in which capacity it is called upon to substantiate endless ideological projects. As a foundational text, there is, as Nylan points out, one project to which the Shangshu has remained yoked throughout the history of its reception: the consolidation of a vision of a singular, unified, and eternal Chinese culture (whatever one takes this to mean.) Generations of recipients have attempted to wrest from the text a consistent ideological whole in pursuit of a unified account of Chinese culture and heritage, and time and again, the text is “made to yield satisfactory answers to perennial questions about what it means to be Chinese under Chinese rule,” even when scant consensus can be “Confucian” Classics, 136. To give one prominent example from the present, Xi Jinping 習近平, President of the People's Republic of China, quoted repeatedly from the Shangshu as part of his “Speech on the occasion of the 65th anniversary meeting to celebrate the founding of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference,” delivered on 21/9/2014. See “Zai qingzhu Zhongguo remin zhengzhi xieshang huiyi chengli 65 zhounian dahui shang de jianghua” 在慶祝中國人民政治協商會議成立 65 周年大會上的講話, <http://news.xinhuanet.com/politics/2014-09/21/c_1112564804.htm>, accessed 14/11/2019. See Meyer, Documentation and Argument, 245–8 for reflections on “Xi Jinping’s ‘Shū’”. 70 71 40 found across its chapters.72 This practise is at odds with the complexity, multiplicity, heterogeneity, and discontinuity of the text and its chapters, and the result is a conflict between exegetical desire and textual reality has nevertheless proved productive, spurring “[t]he amplification, reinvention, and reinterpretation of the Documents text over thousands of years, through successive commentaries, apocryphal texts, and works of popular literature,” as well as inspiring the foundation of political and educational institutions mandating programmes of Shangshu learning and interpretation.73 This essay is as a comprehensive bibliographical introduction to the corpus texts Mu Shi and Wu Cheng through a critical survey of the formation, structure, content, transmission, reception, and study of the received Shangshu from the early period to the present day. It has three parts. A first part explains the chapter organisation and summarises the state of knowledge about proto-Shangshu materials during the period leading up to the first empires. The second part recounts the reception and transmission history of the Shangshu from the emergence of the first attested recension in the Qin 秦 (221–206 BC) to the threshold of contemporary scholarship in the first half of the twentieth century. The third part surveys the state of contemporary Shangshu scholarship, with a particular focus on the handling of issues touched on in the first two parts. The discussion across these three parts constitutes not only a bibliographical introduction, but a minor intellectual history of the tension between the text of the Shangshu and its uses. I identify two core questions that appear to thread through the past two millennia of academic discourse: what makes something “Shangshu” (or not), and what is at stake in the answer to “Confucian” Classics, 122; see also 123, 126–7, 136–7. For an example of this enterprise in contemporary scholarly discourse, see Yan Xuetong, Ancient Chinese Thought, Modern Chinese Power (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013). 73 Nylan, “Confucian” Classics, 121. 72 41 that question? This discussion serves two functions within the project. First, it supports and informs the interpretation of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng in chapters Three, Six, and Seven, providing essential background information; second, it provides a deeper context around the handling of the question of the wholeness of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng within the scholarship, thereby substantiating and extending the surveys made in the project introduction. 42 Part One: Shu and their organisation in the pre-imperial period The Shangshu traditionally has four sections, organised chronologically. The chapters in the Yu Shu 虞書 (Yu Documents) purport to record events from the period of the sage-kings Yao 堯 and Shun 舜; the Xia Shu 夏書 (Xia Documents) purport to record events from the period of Yu 禹; the Shang Shu 商書 (Shang Documents) purport to record events during the Shang dynasty, and the Zhou Shu bear witness to events during the Zhou. It is now widely accepted that, first, the chapters exclusive to the Old Text were composed as late as the fourth century AD, and second, it is highly unlikely that the New Text chapters were produced contemporaneously to the events that they purport to record, in most cases. 74 Beginning with Gu Jiegang,75 many scholars have developed new classifications for regrouping the Shangshu chapters according to likely period of composition. 76 Michael Nylan proposes one such four-part reclassification, which, like all other modern reclassifications, “essentially reverses the conventional chronology.” 77 74 Martin Kern explains, “all the Documents speeches attributed to pre-Zhou rulers are without doubt products of Eastern Zhou times, that is, constructed or reconstructed speeches that may contain some historical knowledge but are fundamentally texts through which the Chinese rulers of high antiquity were imagined and became memorable.” “Bronze inscriptions, the Shijing and the Shangshu,” 183. 75 In a letter to Hu Shi 胡適 (1891–1962), Gu was first to propose a new organisational framework for the New Text chapters on the basis of historical, linguistic, and philosophical factors. See Gu, “Lun Jinwen Shangshu zhuzuo shidai shu” 論《今文尚書》著作時代書, in Gushi bian 古史辨, ed. Gu, vol. 1, 200–6 (Beiping: Pushe, 1927). Gu goes so far as to classify some of the chapters as “fake” (wei); Jiang, Zongshu, 133–9. 76 Ibid., 136–9 summarises the classifications of Qian Xuantong 錢玄同 (1887–1939), Gu Jiegang, Liang Qichao, Naitō Torajirō 内藤虎次郎 (1866–1934), Guo Moruo 郭沫若 (1892–1978), Li Taifen 李泰芬, He Dingsheng 何定生, Zhang Xitang, and Chen Mengjia. See also Herrlee G. Creel, The Origins of Statecraft in China: The Western Chou Empire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 447–63. 77 “Confucian” Classics, 134. The groupings are tabulated on page 135. 43 Nylan’s Group A corresponds to the earliest texts, the five Admonitions: Da Gao 大誥 (Great Admonition), Kang Gao 康誥 (Admonition to Kang), Jiu Gao 酒誥 (Admonition on Wine), Shao Gao 召誥 (Admonition of Shao), and Luo Gao 洛誥 (Admonition on Luo). Nylan explains, “[a]lmost certainly these state proclamations, traditionally assigned to the latest section of the received text Documents, represent its earliest stratum,” because they resemble Shang oracle bones and Zhou bronze vessels in their language.78 Along with Gu Ming 顧命 (Testamentary Charge), these texts may even have been contemporaneous to the events they describe.79 Gaozong rongri 高宗肜日 (Rong sacrifice to Gaozong) is also most likely Group A; Zi Cai 梓材 (Catalpa Timber), Wu Yi 無逸 (Taking No Ease), Duo Shi 多士 (Many Knights), and Duo Fang 多方 (Many Regions) fall between Group A and Group B. In spite of their traditional early Zhou attribution, Group B corresponds to chapters that likely date to the late Western Zhou or Eastern Zhou, on account of their resemblance to Warring States texts in both language and philosophical content. 80 The three-pian 篇 Pan Geng 盤庚 chapter falls between Groups B and C.81 Group C includes Yao Dian 堯典 (Canon of Yao), Shun Dian 舜典 (Canon of Shun), Gao Yao Mo 皋陶謨 (Counsels of Gao Yao), Yu Gong 禹貢 (Tribute of Yu), Gan Shi, and Tang “Confucian” Classics, 133. Shaughnessy agrees that the five Gao chapters and Gu Ming, in addition to Jun shi 君奭 (Lord Shi), “can be used with considerable confidence” as Western Zhou sources. See “Western Zhou History,” in The Cambridge History of Ancient China, Shaughnessy and Loewe, ed., 292–351 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 294. See also Kai Vogelsang, “Inscriptions and Proclamations: On the Authenticity of the ‘Gao’ Chapters in the Book of Documents,” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 74 (2002): 138–209; pages 140–8 dispute an early Western Zhou dating of some of the chapters. 80 Includes Xibo kan li 西伯戡黎 (The Earl of the West conquers Li), Weizi 微子, Mu Shi, Hong Fan, Jin Teng 金縢 (The Metal Coffer), Jun Shi, Li Zheng 立政 (Establishing Governance), Gu Ming, Kangwang zhi gao 康王之誥 (Admonition of King Kang), Lü Xing 呂刑 (Punishments of Lü), Wenhou zhi ming 文侯之命 (Charge to Wen hou), Bi Shi, and Qin Shi. See page 20 (including notes) for the harangues (shi). 81 See the discussion on the terms “pian” and “chapter” in note 67, page 39 above. 78 79 44 Gao 湯誥 (Tang Admonition).82 In spite of their traditional attribution to legendary periods of remote antiquity, none of these texts “can possibly date much earlier than Qin unification in 221 BC.”83 The final group, D, corresponds to those chapters exclusive to the Old Text, which were compiled as late as the fourth century AD.84 In trying to understand the early forms and formations of the Shangshu chapters, isolating likely periods of composition, while bibliographically necessary, is only so useful. The life of the Shangshu as a relatively stable library of, at a minimum, twenty-nine “chapters” begins – in the most generous estimation – in the Qin.85 For periods prior to this, scholars tend to speak in terms of shu, referring to more diffuse “documents” or “writings” that form the precursors to the Shangshu chapters and its counterpart “lost” texts miscellany, Yi Zhou Shu 逸周書 (Remnant Zhou Documents).86 Where traditionally “shu” had simply been defined as whatever was transmitted in the Shangshu and Yi Zhou Shu, creating a neatly circular definition, a dearth of new excavated evidence has forced scholars to uncouple the concept of shu from these canons.87 Scholars The problem of defining the content and extent of Yao Dian, Gao Yao Mo, and Gu Ming is addressed in note 118, page 54 below. 83 Nylan, “Confucian” Classics, 134. For a systematic study of the meanings of the titles of individual Shangshu texts, including the six recurring “types” (Dian, Mo, Xun, Gao, Shi, and Ming), see Yu, “Shangshu wenti fenlei ji xingwei yu wenti de guanxi.” 84 Tai Shi is left out of this classification on account of its convoluted history; see note 36 on page 21. 85 For much of this early pre-Qin period, the term “Shangshu” did not even exist (Jiang, Zongshu, 1.) 86 Meyer suggests that “pre-imperial articulations should not be considered as Shàngshū texts but as expressions of ‘Shū’ traditions,” of which the Shangshu and Yi Zhou Shu are imperial offspring, Documentation and Argument, 13. For the Yi Zhou Shu, see Grebnev, “The Core Chapters of the Yi Zhou Shu” (PhD dissertation, University of Oxford, 2016.) Kern takes the view that shu would have been less stable than shi 詩 (“odes” or “songs”). See his comparative study of the Shijing and Shangshu citations in the “Ziyi” 緇衣 (“Black Robes”) manuscripts and their counterparts in the received Liji, “Quotation and the Confucian canon.” 87 Meyer explains that “the two imperial miscellanies [of the Shangshu and Yi Zhou Shu] simply represent selective interpretative strands of written down ‘Shū’ among potentially many more such 82 45 like Sarah Allan now maintain that shu began with real or imaginary speeches (in some cases, encompassing other acts) by influential kings and ministers, and it is possible that synchronous, delayed, or even altogether fictious scribal records may have been produced for these speeches.88 But in the absence of continuously-received sources for their earliest textual history, little about the long transformation of shu from legendary speech texts to canonically-organised chapters can be established with certainty. Thanks to an “unprecedented surge” of related archaeological finds in the modern period, the state of knowledge has nevertheless been greatly expanded. 89 Over the past century, archaeologists have retrieved thousands of bronze artifacts within China. Many are ritual vessels that date to the Western Zhou and carry inscriptions. These inscriptions not only describe the very same events that are “recorded” in the Shangshu, but moreover exhibit the stylistic, rhetorical, and linguistic features of certain Shangshu chapters.90 In addition to providing a wealth of new epigraphic shu-related literature, the Western Zhou bronzes, as ritual vessels, also represent significant evidence of the ritual contexts of the production and strands, singled out by later communities for reasons that so far remain beyond our comprehension.” Documentation and Argument, 13. 88 “Some shu will be authentic scripts of speeches prepared for royal delivery, some will be based upon such speeches, and others will be fictional reconstructions of what an ancient ruler or minister might have said.” Sarah Allan, “What is a shu 書?” EASCM Newsletter 4 (2011): 1–5: 5. See also Allan’s Buried Ideas: Legends of Abdication and Ideal Government in Early Chinese Bamboo-Slip Manuscripts (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2016), 272; and “On Shu 書 (Documents) and the origin of the Shang shu 尚書 (Ancient Documents) in light of recently discovered bamboo slip manuscripts,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 75.3 (Oct. 2012): 547–57. 89 Including “several hundred thousand pieces of oracle bone and plastron inscriptions dating from the late Shang […] period, thousands of inscribed bronze vessels mainly from the Western […] and Eastern […] Zhou periods, some 15,000 fragments of early-fifth-century [BC] covenant texts on stone and jade tablets, thousands of Warring States and early imperial administrative and economic records, and several hundred manuscripts, dating from the fourth century [BC] onward.” Kern, Text and Ritual, viii. 90 Martin Kern notes that “the early layers of the received Songs and Documents display an archaic diction in lexical choices and ideology that in general fits well with the epigraphic evidence from late (but not early) Western Zhou and early Springs and Autumns (Chunqiu 春秋) period (722–486 BC) bronze inscriptions.” “Bronze inscriptions, the Shijing and the Shangshu,” 147. Meyer explores the many facets of the relationship between bronzes and shu in the studies in Documentation and Argument; see pages 11–23 for the theoretical framework that he uses to categorise and model these relationship facets. 46 consumption of this literature, and the shu related to it.91 And besides these bronzes, archaeologists have unearthed other items, such as props associated with multimedia “re-”enactments of ritual performances described in or associated with Shangshu passages.92 On the strength of all this evidence, it is now the consensus among scholars that ritual use formed a significant part of the consumption and proliferation of shu speeches and acts.93 In recent decades, a number of Warring States period bamboo manuscripts relating to shu have also surfaced. The Guodian Chu slips were excavated in 1993 from Guodian Tomb No. One, located in modern-day Hubei 湖北 province. These manuscripts date to approximately 300 BC and have their origins the Southern kingdom of Chu 楚.94 Scholars have identified among them previously unknown passages cited as “shu,” as well as texts with content corresponding to received Shangshu chapters.95 The Tsinghua 清華 manuscripts were acquired by Tsinghua University in 2008 and have been radiocarbon-dated to the mid-to-late Warring States period. 96 Allowing for minor lexical, syntactic, and orthographical variations (compared with the received text versions), scholars have identified among them versions of Jin Teng, Kang Gao, and Gu Ming, as well See Kern, “Bronze inscriptions, the Shijing and the Shangshu,” 150–1 for a summary of this thesis. 92 This is discussed further in Chapter Three. 93 As explored across the breadth of the early Chinese corpus in the essays in Kern’s edited volume Text and Ritual, which “[look] at the ritual structures of textual composition and textual circulation on the one hand and at the textuality of ritual practices on the other,” vii. Kern holds that shu speeches “not only epitomize the ideal of ritual order but also on occasion provide elaborate description of ritual acts.” x. 94 The texts are reproduced in Hubei sheng Jingmen shi bowuguan 湖北省荊門市博物館, ed., Guodian chu mu zhujian 郭店楚墓竹簡 (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1998) and translated by Scott Cook in The Bamboo Texts of Guodian: A Study and Complete Translation (New York: Cornell University Press, 2012). For an introduction to the cache, see Liao Mingchun, A Preliminary Study on the Newly-unearthed Bamboo Inscriptions of the Chu Kingdom: An Investigation of the Materials from and about the Shangshu in the Guodian Chu Slips (in Chinese) (Taipei: Taiwan Guji Publishing Co., 2001). 95 Such as Ziyi and *Cheng zhi 成之 (Bringing Things to Completion). The addition of an asterisk (*) before the text indicates that its title was assigned by modern scholars. 96 See Liu Guozhang, Introduction to the Tsinghua Bamboo-Strip Manuscripts (Leiden: Brill, 2016). 91 47 as “shu-like” texts that resemble the received Shangshu in key ways, without corresponding to any particular chapter.97 The manuscripts offer a glimpse into the slow, stuttered emergence of literature and literary texts adapting and assimilating shu speeches and acts. From this corpus, it is clear that, by the Warring States, shu had come to be regarded as the didactic bequests of sage rulers of an already-distant antiquity, solemnly consecrated to their cultural heirs. Later, libraries, bibles, and – with the emergence of empire – canons would emerge, rationalising relationships between these texts. This brings us to the earliest known Shangshu recension – Fu Sheng’s 伏生 (also 伏勝; 3rd–2nd century BC) New Text version in twenty-nine chapters – where the history of “the Shangshu” begins. Overall, early shu-related artifacts existed in great variety forms, leading long and complex lives across a multiplicity of communities. The variety of forms described here is not exhaustive, nor are the boundaries between them clear-cut. For one, textual and ritual practices in early China oftentimes simply represent two faces of one and the same process. 98 The relationship between orality and writing in these communities is similarly complex. 99 There is also scant evidence to inform a hard sequence or chronology for the various artifacts These shu-like texts include *Bao xun 保訓 (Instructions [requiring] Protection), *Yin zhi 尹至 (The Arrival of Yin), and the three-part Fu Yue zhi ming 傅說之命 (The Charge to Fu Yue). For these and others, see Li Xueqin, “Lun Qinghua jian Bao Xun de jige wenti” 論清華簡《保訓》的幾個問題, Wenwu 文物 6 (2009): 75–80; Qinghua daxue cang zhanguo zhujian 清華大學藏戰國竹簡 vol. 1 (Shanghai: Zhongxi shuju, 2010); and “Qinghua jian jiupian zongshu” 清華簡九篇綜述, Wenwu 文物 5 (2010): 51–7; and Qinghua daxue chutu wenxian yanjiu yu baohu zhongxin 清華大學出土文獻研究與保護中心, “Qinghua daxue cang zhanguo zhujian Bao Xun shiwen” 清華大學藏戰國竹簡《保訓》釋文, Wenwu 文物 6 (2009): 73–5. See Meyer, Documentation and Argument, 121–56 for analysis of Bao xun and Gu ming as shu; see 200–30 for Yin zhi and Fu Yue zhi ming. 98 As argued in the essays in Kern, Text and Ritual. 99 As explained at length in the work of Dirk Meyer: “I […] propose to replace the dichotomy of the oral as against the written with a model that takes into account the oral-performative element of written [shu] text segments and partially written traditions, by placing them in a communicative setting.” Documentation and Argument, 16. In addition, see his Philosophy on Bamboo, in particular the discussion of “context-dependent” Warring States texts on pages 184–207. 97 48 mentioned above.100 In any case, it is clear that shu cannot be defined against any one form of artifact; they are neither speeches, documents, rituals, performances, nor works of literature – nor any interstitial hybrid of these. While some scholars have posited that the enduring ontology of shu is found in their rhetorical and morphological features, Dirk Meyer suggests a different route altogether. 101 In his model, there is no constant textual, narrative, or visual structuring or content to which one might appeal as a basis for an ontology of shu.102 Rather, shu are a cultural praxis comparable to Greek tragedy or Norse myth; they are the “dynamic […] traditions” of a “multilayered institution, constantly adapted and recomposed for the ends of contrasting communities,” which voiced “the changing philosophical concerns of diverse groups and their sociopolitical realities.” 103 Accordingly, it is methodologically important to treat the fluid, diachronicallyfluctuating multiplicity of individual artifacts described above as instantiations or renditions of these shu traditions. Meyer considers these traditions as distinct from the text forms that they are expressed and constituted in (and which they, in turn, influence, in a dialectical relationship.) Martin Kern proposes five analytical stages of shu development. These include a (real or projected) origin event, subsequent (re-)imaginings of this event in ritual performance, and thereafter in stages three to five, a convoluted journey of haphazard textualization, reorganisation, anthologisation, canonisation, after which the narrative is finally received into the Han imperial canon (jing 經). “The ‘Harangues’ (Shi 誓) in the Shangshu,” in Kern and Meyer, Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy, 281–319: 284–5. Meyer proposes a yet more diffuse model. See Documentation and Argument, pages 13–5; 185–6; 235–744 in particular. 101 Grebnev puts forward a rubric for categorising morphologically-related shu texts in “The Yi Zhou Shu and the Shangshu: The Case of Texts with Speeches,” in Kern and Meyer, Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy, 249–80. 102 “[During the Warring States] the ‘Shū’ were something dynamic. Informed by an old scriptural tradition,[37] they continuously evolved by way of incessant (re-)articulations of certain themes, modular structures, and reference formulas in an archaic speech register, as they were used by different groups who wished to expand their space of influence thus, and so to appear as political actors. […] As a result they hardened into a web of old cultural capital made up by a repertoire of select modular speech components.[39] The ‘Shū’ thus developed into a genre of performance that enabled participating groups ‘to move old cultural capital into new argument space’ – to borrow a useful phrase as coined by Randall Collins in his The Sociology of Philosophies.” Documentation and Argument, 14. 103 Ibid., 26. 100 49 Overall, over a long early period lasting from the Western Zhou and into the Warring States, that to which the term “shu” could refer varied and evolved substantially. “Shu” certainly cannot be encompassed in a single evolving text or text collection (and let alone a text with a linear history), and so the identification of “composition dates” for the Shangshu chapters is frustrated not only on a practical level, but on a methodological (and philosophical) one as well.104 Rather, what transcends time, space, and communities is a nebula of traditions, expressed in various mixed and ever-changing forms, which, in turn, develop the traditions that they express. Nylan covers this point in “Confucian” Classics, 132: “It is probably wrong to think in terms of a composition of the Documents text, as some passages at least must represent a loose synthesis of shared truths about the past continually reformulated over centuries. Individual passages of even a single chapter may well have originated in different times and places. It may take decades of textual analysis, therefore, before scholars are able to fully utilize any new evidence in their study of the Documents to estimate the dates of the troublesome passages. Further, when and if firm dates are determined, there will remain a methodological question no less taxing: What kind of date is most meaningful in the study of a given chapter: the dates when individual passages were composed? the date when most or all of the chapter was compiled, barring later interpolations? the date when the entire chapter was written down as a unit? or the date when the chapter, in part or in whole, was inserted into the Documents collection?” 104 50 Part Two: Transmission and reception from Qin/Han onwards According to tradition, the known textual history of the Shangshu begins with Confucius (Kongzi) 孔子 (551–479 BC), who selected one hundred pian of shu materials and added to the compilation a “Shu xu” 書序 (“Preface to the Documents”). Tradition further alleges that, during the political upheaval of the Qin, when many texts were supposedly suppressed and lost, the academician Fu Sheng sequestered in the walls of his home a copy of the Shangshu, of which twenty-nine chapters (in twenty-nine pian) survived. This version of the text, including the “Shangshu dazhuan” 尚書大專 (“Grand Commentary to the Shangshu”) attributed to Fu Sheng, later came to be known as the New Text version, on account of its then-contemporary Han clerical script (lishu 隸書).105 In 136 BC, under the auspices of Emperor Wu of Han, the New Text became one of five titles canonised under the Wujing 五經 (Five Classics) rubric,106 and so was elevated to the status of “sacred Classic” (shengjing 聖經) and source of official learning (guanxue 官學).107 A decade later, in 124 BC, Wu established an Imperial Academy (taixue 太學), an institution The title Jinwen Shangshu (New Text Venerated Documents) appears for the first time during the fifth century AD; see Pelliot, “Le Chou king,” 138–9. According to Edward Shaughnessy, the earliest extant edition of the New Text can be found in Wu Cheng’s 吳澄 (1249–1333) Shu zuanyan 書纂言 (Observations on the Documents); “Shang Shu,” 380–1. 106 Nylan provides an overview of historical, intellectual, and political forces during the Han that ultimately culminated in the formation of the Wujing rubric in “Confucian” Classics, 21–3; 31–6. As she points out, although 136 BC represented a watershed moment in fixing the form and content of the five titles included, “the corpus of the Five Classics was unusual in the degree to which it remained open, subject to continual amplification and revision.” Ibid., 18. For another source-based study of the “textual revolution” of the Han, see Xu Jianwei 徐建委, Wenben geming: Liu Xiang he Hanshu Yiwen zhi yanjiu 文本革命: 劉向和《漢書·藝文志》研究 (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2017.) 107 For the term jing (“Classic”), see Nylan “Confucian” Classics, 10–2. 105 51 devoted mainly to the study of the Wujing. The Shangshu was taught by the scholar-officials Ouyang Gao 歐陽高 (dates unknown) and father and son Xiahou Sheng 夏侯勝 (fl. 70 BC) and Xiahou Jian 夏侯建 (dates unknown). Through these and other institutional overtures, the New Text was officially recognised as the definitive version of the Shangshu.108 A little later on during the Western Han, another Shangshu text, the so-called Old Text version, entered circulation.109 The history of this version is particularly complex. According to a further tradition, Kong Anguo 孔安國 (c.156–c.74 BC), scholar and descendant of Confucius, discovered a pre-Warring States Shangshu written in “ancient” script (guwen) in the walls of his home when King Gong of Lu 魯恭王 (r. 154–127 BC) called for the demolition of the Kong ancestral home in order to make room for an extension on his palace. This “Old Text” version differed from Fu Sheng’s New Text in several respects: it not only contained a number of variant graphs and longer sentences, but also included sixteen additional “pian” besides the twenty-nine chapters also seen in the New Text.110 Deciphering the text’s more ancient orthography, Kong transcribed this into the contemporary script, appended his own commentary, 111 and presented the work to court.112 Nylan discusses some of these institutional transformations in “Confucian” Classics, 35–7. The meaning of the term “gu wen” is not clear. Wang Guowei 王國維 (1877–1927), Qian Mu 錢穆 (1895–1990), and Zhou Yutong 周予同 (1898–1981) have all attempted to define it with very different conclusions; see Nylan, “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy in Han Times,” T’oung Pao Second Series 80.1/3 (1994): 83–145, pages 88–97 in particular. 110 Through an extensive survey of Han sources, Nylan concludes that these sixteen additional “pian” were most likely additional commentary to the twenty-nine existing chapters, rather than original documents (shu) in their own right. See “The Ku Wen Documents in Han Times,” T'oung Pao 81.1/3 (1995): 25–50: 47. 111 Variously referred to as Kong Anguo Shangshu zhuan 孔安國尚書傳 (Kong Anguo’s Shangshu Commentary), Shangshu Kongshi zhuan 尚書孔氏傳 (Mr. Kong’s Commentary to the Shangshu), etc. 112 Pelliot believes that “[i]n all likelihood, K’ong Ngan-kouo [Kong Anguo] offered the emperor both the original manuscript and the decipherment he had made of it in modern characters... .” (“Selon toute vraisemblance, K’ong Ngan-kouo offrit à l’empereur à la fois le manuscrit original et le déchiffrement qu’il en avait fait en caractères modernes…” “Le Chou king,” 135.) He moreover explores what the “decipherment” of the found text might have entailed, given the orthographic and calligraphic dimensions of Western Han Chinese and the multivalency of the terms “guwen” and “jinwen”; “Le Chou king,” 136–158. 108 109 52 Though Fu Sheng’s New Text continued to serve as the official version of the Shangshu for the remainder of the Han period, scholars became interested in Kong’s Old Text after Liu Xiang 劉向 (c. 79–8 BC) and his son Liu Xin 劉歆 (c. 50 BC–23 AD) inventoried it in the imperial library.113 Many notable scholars produced commentaries, including Wei Hong 衛宏 (Eastern Han, author of Guwen Shangshu xunzhi 古文尚書訓旨), Jia Kui 賈逵 (30–101 AD; Guwen Shangshu xun 古文尚書訓), Ma Rong 馬融 (79–166 AD; Guwen Shangshu zhuan 古文尚書傳), and Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (127–200 AD; Guwen Shangshu zhujie 古文尚書註解).114 During the reign of Emperor Cheng 漢成帝 (r. 33–7 BC), lost texts were collected from across the empire. Liu Xiang oversaw the compilation of the submissions; see Hanshu, 310; 1701. Liu’s bibliography of the resulting collection, including Shangshu-related holdings, is partially preserved in the “Yiwen zhi” 藝文志 (“Technical Monograph on Arts and Literature”) section of Ban Gu’s (32– 92) Hanshu (Book of the Han); see Hanshu, 705–6. The “Yiwen zhi” draws on the Lius’ Qilüe 七略 (Seven Overviews), China’s earliest known systematic bibliography, which Liu Xin later expanded into the Bielu 別錄 (Additional Comments). Han sources for the traditional early histories of the New and Old Text Shangshu include Sima Qian’s Shiji, Ban Gu’s Hanshu, and Wang Chong’s Lunheng. Note that Sima Qian was a student of Kong Anguo. See Shiji, 2745–6; 3118; 3122; 3124–6; Hanshu, 1706–7; 1968–71; 2277–8; 3593; 3603–4; 3607; and Huang Hui 黄暉, Lunheng jiaoshi (fu Liu Pansui jijie) 論衡校釋 (附劉盼遂集解) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), 860–3; 1123–6. Hanshu, 1968 preserves a letter discussing the “discoveries” written by Liu Xin, “Yi taichang boshi shu” 移太常博士書. Note that Lunheng chapters 81 “Zheng Shuo” 正說 (“Corrected Sayings”) and 82 “Shu Jie” 書解 (“Documents Explained”) represent early fully-fledged philological examinations of the Shangshu and related texts; see Huang, Lunheng jiaoshi, 1123–1160. Xu Shen 許慎 (c. 58 –c. 148) also describes Kong’s discovery of an Old Text Shangshu in the preface (“Xu” 序) to the Shuowen jiezi 說文解字 (Writing Explained and Characters Analysed). The traditional account(s) listed above are encumbered by substantial inconsistencies and anachronisms, which are explained in Pelliot, “Le Chou king,” 129–134, and Nylan, “The Ku Wen Documents.” Pelliot highlights inconsistencies in the details and dates of the story of the demolition of the wall of the Kong ancestral home, as well as the nature of Chao Cuo’s 晁錯 (also Chao Cuo 鼂錯; 200–154 BC) involvement in the reception of the Fu Sheng recension. 114 These four are known to have had access to a lacquered bamboo edition of the Old Text in the possession of Du Lin 杜林 (Eastern Han). Du’s text is described in his biography in Hou Hanshu 後漢書 (Book of the Latter Han), chapter 27 “Xuan Zhang er wang Du Guo Wu Cheng Zheng Zhao liezhuan” 宣張二王杜郭吳承鄭趙列傳 (“Biographies of Xuan, Zhang, two Wangs, Du, Guo, Wu, Cheng, Zheng, and Zhao”). See Fan Ye 范曄, ed., Hou Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1965), 936–7; and Jiang, Zongshu, 51–2. In addition to the Kong Anguo copy, further copies of the Old Text traditionally attested during the Han include a copy in the possession of King Xian of Hejian 河閒獻王 (i.e. Liu De 劉德, 171–130 BC), as well as a spurious copy in 102 pian in the possession of Zhang Ba 張霸 (Eastern Han). See Ibid., 49–51. 113 53 At the end of the Western Jin 晉 (265–316), the Old Text was lost.115 Not long after however, during the Eastern Jin 晉 (317–420), the then-Administrator of Yuzhang 豫章, Mei Ze 梅賾 (fl. fourth century),116 presented to the court of the Emperor Yuan 晉元帝 (r. 318– 323) a Shangshu text written in “ancient” script.117 Included in this version were fifty-eight pian, thirty-three of which corresponded to twenty-eight pian of Fu Sheng’s text, along with another twenty-five pian that “contained genuinely older passages pieced together with newer sections.”118 It furthermore contained parts of Confucius’ “Shu xu”, a preface known as the “Da xu” 大序 (“Great Preface”) or “Kong xu” 孔序 (“Kong Preface”) attributed to Kong Anguo, and the commentary (zhuan 傳) attributed to him also. The text was alleged – and believed – to be the recovered Old Text, as first discovered by Kong Anguo and later seen by the Lius and other Han scholars. The status of Mei Ze’s text as the recovered Old Text was cemented a couple of centuries later during the early Tang 唐 (618–907), when Emperor Taizong 太宗 (r. 626–649) tasked Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648), Libationer at the Imperial Academy (Guozijian 國子監), with overseeing the compilation of the Wujing Zhengyi 五經正義 (Correct Interpretation of Wu Cheng had been lost earlier still. Zheng Xuan remarks that “it was lost in the Jianwu period,” referring to the reign of Emperor Guangwu of Han 漢光武 (25–57) (“武成逸書，建武之際亡.” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 342.) 116 Also written Mei Ze 枚賾, Mei Yi 梅頤, and Mei Yi 枚頤. 117 An early account of the traditional narrative of the Old Text’s Eastern Jin “rediscovery” can be seen in the Suishu 隋書 (Book of the Sui). See Wei Zheng 魏徵, ed., Suishu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1973), 914–5. The Suishu is the official history of the Sui 隋 (581–618), as commissioned by Tang Taizong 唐太宗 (r. 626–649), the same emperor who sanctioned the Wujing Zhengyi 五經正義 (Correct Interpretation of the Five Classics), and compiled in part by Kong Yingda (574–648). Note that chapters exclusive to Mei Ze’s Old Text don’t actually contain an awful lot of archaic characters. See Nylan, “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy,” 95. 118 Nylan, “The Ku Wen Documents,” 26. The Mei Ze Old Text Shun Dian corresponds to the latter part of the New Text Yao Dian; Yi Ji 益稷 (Yi and Ji) corresponds to the latter part of New Text Gao Yao Mo; and Kangwang zhi gao corresponds to the latter part of New Text Gu Ming. See Jiang, Zongshu, 133; 136. 115 54 the Five Classics).119 Kong’s team passed over the New Text in favour of Mei Ze’s Old Text to serve as the basis for the Shangshu Zhengyi 尚書正義 (Correct Interpretation of the Venerated Documents), which carries their original annotations (shu 疏) in addition to the commentary attributed to Kong Anguo. Just like the recensions of the other four works – the Shijing, Liji, Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes), and Chunqiu 春秋 (Spring and Autumn Annals) – incorporated in the canon, the Shangshu Zhengyi was, by imperial sanction, elevated to the status of the authoritative and definitive Shangshu text, and a “centrepiece” of the dynasty’s examination system.120 The text continued to enjoy this status, at least in the view of the imperial establishment, well into the second millennium AD. Beginning in the Song, scholars gradually began to express doubts about the authenticity of Mei Ze’s text, and various methods were applied in attempts to verify whether the text was the recovered Kong Old Text or a later creation. As Yan Ruoqu 閻若璩 (1636–1704) would later remark, “suspicion of the Old Text long since began with Wu Cailao,” referring to Wu Yu 吳棫 (1100–1154).121 Highlighting how few problems the supposedly “ancient” text of the twenty-five exclusive Old Text chapters posed for a contemporary reader, Wu’s Shu pi zhuan 書裨傳 (Commentary to the Documents) was the first known study to posit that the received Old Text had been produced during the Jin 晉 (265–420). And as seen at several points throughout the Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 (Topical Conversations with Master Zhu), Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) harboured similar doubts about the Old Text’s authenticity. He Then known as the Wujing Yishu 五經義疏 (Annotations on the Meaning of the Five Classics). Benjamin A. Elman, “Philosophy (i-li) versus philology (k’ao-cheng)—the jen-hsin Tao-hsin debate,” T’oung Pao 69.4 (1983): 175–222; 176. 121 “疑古文自吴才老始.” Shangshu guwen shuzheng 尚書古文疏證, in Shangshu leiju chuji 尚書類聚初集 vol. 5, ed. Du Songbai 杜松柏, 312–562 (Taipei: Xinwenfeng chuban gongsi, 1984), 328– 9. 119 120 55 nevertheless stopped short of calling it a forgery, continuing to refer to it in formulating his metaphysical theories.122 Many other Song scholars engaged with the question of the Old Text’s veracity, including Cai Shen 蔡沈 (1167–1230), Chen Zhensun 陳振孫 (1179–1262), Wang Bo 王柏 (1197–1274), and Jin Lüxiang 金履祥 (1232–1303). As the Song transitioned into the Yuan 元 (1271–1368), scholars continued to cast doubt over the Mei Ze text’s purported ancient origins. Wu Cheng 吳澄 (1249–1333) openly concluded that chapters exclusive to the Old Text were forgeries. His Shu zuanyan 書纂言 (Observations on the Documents) explicated the twenty-nine New Text chapters only – the first study since the Han to do so.123 Other scholars who engaged with the issue included Zhao Mengfu 趙孟俯 (1254–1322) and Wang Chongyun 王充耘 (achieved jinshi 進士 in 1333). The Ming 明 (1368–1644) saw the appearance of increasingly systematic studies of the Old Text’s veracity. Notable among these is Mei Zhuo’s 梅鷟 (c.1483–c.1553) Shangshu kaoyi 尚書考異 (Investigation of Variances in the Documents).124 Mei, a kaozhengxue “pioneer,” showed which textual sources had been mined to produce the Old Text, and pointed to Huangfu Mi 皇甫謐 (215–282) as the forger. 125 During the Ming and Ming-Qing transition, a great many more scholars engaged in scholarship on the authenticity of the Old Text, including Zheng Yuan 鄭瑗 (achieved jinshi in 1481), Zheng Xiao 鄭曉 (1499–1566), Gui Youguang 歸有光 (1507–1571), Huang See Elman, “Philosophy versus Philology,” 183–4 for Zhu Xi’s position on the Old Text. This forms part of the article’s extremely detailed overview of the evolution of Old Text Shangshu scholarship from Song to Qing; see pages 182–213 in particular. 123 Ibid., 187. See David Gedalecia, “Neo-Confucian Classicism in the Thought of Wu Ch’eng,” Bulletin of Sung and Yuan Studies 14 (1978): 12–21 for greater detail on Wu’s Shangshu scholarship. 124 This text had a precarious history prior to the late 1700s. As a consequence, most Qing scholars only had access to Mei’s comparatively “less definitive” Shangshu pu 尚書譜 (Treatise on the Documents). See Elman, “Philosophy versus philology,” 194. 125 Ibid., 193. 122 56 Zongxi 黄宗羲 (1610–1695), and Gu Yanwu 顧炎武 (1613–1682). Some, such as Hao Jing 郝敬 (1558–1639), who wrote Du Shu 讀書 (Reading the Documents), pushed philological methods and techniques forwards in order to demonstrate the Old Text’s Jin dynasty origins.126 Others, such as Chen Di 陳第 (1541–1617) and Jiao Hong 焦竑 (1541–1620), regarded philological arguments against the Old Text’s authenticity as a threat to its philosophical integrity (and by extension, political utility), and explicitly set out to defend it on this basis.127 Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 (1619–1692) also defended the text on the grounds of its philosophical authority in his study Shangshu yinyi 尚書引義 (Citing Meaning from the Documents). During the early Qing, Yan Ruoqu produced a series of essays titled Shangshu guwen shuzheng 尚書古文疏證 (Determining the Authenticity of the Old Text Documents).128 In them, Yan empirically demonstrated that the received Old Text most likely was produced during the fourth century AD.129 Building on centuries of sceptical research,130 Shuzheng deployed a detached, methodical proof,131 which was independently corroborated in the work In Shangshu bianjie 尚書辨解 (Analysis of Scholia to the Documents). Elman, “Philosophy versus philology,” 198. 128 Only 99 of an original 128 Shuzheng essays remain. 129 While many, including Yan, believe that Mei Ze himself is the “forger”, there are several other candidates. Pelliot takes the opinion that the text is the work of Wang Su 王肅 (195–256); “Le Chou king,” 128, footnote 1. Other candidates include Huangfu Mi, an Eastern Jin Kong Anguo 孔安國 (d. 408), and Zheng Chong 鄭沖 (d. 265). See Jiang, Zongshu, 334–361. 130 See Elman, “Yen Jo-chü’s Debt to Sung and Ming Scholarship,” Ch’ing-shih wen-t’i 3.7 (Nov. 1977): 105–13. 131 Elman explains Yan’s epistemology of “doubt” (yi 疑) and “inquiry” (kao 考) in “Philosophy versus philology,” 206–8. Recent appraisals of Shuzheng’s arguments and methods can be found in Zhang Yan 張岩, Shenhe guwen Shangshu an 審核古文《尚書》案 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2006), Xu Huafeng 許華峰, “Yan Ruoqu Shangshu guwen shuzheng de bianwei fangfa” 閻若璩《尚書古文疏證》的辨偽方法 (MA dissertation, Taipei Zhongyang University, 1994), and Liu Renpeng 劉人鵬, “Yan Ruoqu yu guwen Shangshu bianwei: yige xueshushi de ge’an yanjiu” 閻若璩與古文尚書辨偽: 一個學術史的個案研究 (PhD dissertation, Taiwan University, 1990). Zhang concludes that Yan’s method is unscientific, Xu highlights its indebtedness to the earlier work of Mei Zhuo, and Liu identifies its logical fallacies. 126 127 57 of Yan’s contemporary Hui Dong 惠棟 (1697–1758).132 The Shuzheng met with persistent opposition from scholarly and political stakeholders in the received Old Text’s early attribution. One of the earliest and most philologically significant of these objections is found in Mao Qiling’s 毛奇齡 (1623–1716) Guwen Shangshu yuanci 古文尚書冤詞 (In Defence of the Old Text Documents). Though other scholars (such as Lu Longqi 陸龍其 [1630–1693]) stepped up to defend the Old Text, it was Mao, in opposition to Yan, who was taken as the representative of the defensive end of the spectrum of possible positions on the issue of the veracity of the Old Text. 133 In the centuries following Yan and Mao, many other Qing philologists, including Zhang Yunzhang 張雲章 (1648–1726), Duan Yucai 段玉裁 (1735–1815), and Pi Xirui 皮錫瑞 (1850–1908), contributed empirical research to the debate. As Wu Tongfu 吳通福 explains, “from Yan Ruoqu’s initial suspicions in the twelfth year of Shunzhi 順治 (1655) to Zhang Xiezhi 張諧之 publishing what he’d written in the thirtieth year of Guangxu 光緒 (1904), the dispute around the late-appearing Old Text Shangshu in Qing academic culture persisted for two hundred and forty-five years – almost as long as the dynasty itself.” 134 In spite of Hui produced his Guwen Shangshu kao 古文尚書考 (Study of the Old Text Documents), published in Beijing in 1774, without having seen Yan’s work. 133 See Zhang Mu’s 張穆 (1805–1849) 1845 study Yan Qianqiu Xiansheng nianpu 閻潛邱先生年譜, and, almost a century later, Dai Junren’s Yan Mao Guwen Shangshu gong’an 閻毛古文尚書公案 (Beijing: Zhonghua congshu weiyuanhui, 1963). Yan and Mao in fact kept correspondence, and even met to debate the issue; see Elman “Philosophy versus philology,” 208–211; and Wu Tongfu 吳通福, Wanchu Guwen Shangshu gong’an yu Qing dai xueshu 晚出古文尚書公案與清代學術 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007), 3–4. 134 “從順治十二年（1655）閻若璩開始懷疑，到張諧之於光緒三十年（1904）刊出所著書，清代學術文化史上圍繞晚出《古文尚書》的爭論持續了，兩百四五十年，幾乎與有清一代朝局相始終。” Wanchu Guwen, 4; the book as a whole gives a detailed overview of these “two hundred and forty-five years” of scholarly discourse on the Old Text scholarship. For a briefer overview of the same, see Cai Genxiang 蔡根祥, “Yan Ruoqu Shangshu guwen shuzheng Yin Zheng kaobian chanyi bushi” 閻若璩《尚書古文疏證》〈胤征〉考辨闡義補釋, in Di san jie guoji Shangshu xue xueshu yantaohui lunwen ji 第三屆國際《尚書》學學術研討會論文集, ed. Lin Ch’ing-Chang 林慶彰, Qian Zongwu, and Chiang Ch’iu-Hua 蔣秋華, 15–44 (Taipei: Wanjuan lou, 2014). For the relationship between the Old Text debates and the deliberations and transformations of 132 58 continued philological and philosophical defences, Sun Xingyan’s 孫星衍 (1753–1818) Shangshu jin gu wen zhushu 尚書今古文注疏 (Commentary and Annotations to the New and Old Text Documents) “brought to virtual completion the attack on the spurious Old Text chapters ‘discovered’ by Mei Tse [Mei Ze] in the fourth century A.D.,” 135 and “[b]y 1800, the consensus of opinion of most evidential scholars was that the Old Text chapters were forgeries.”136 In the face of total ideological and institutional reform at the dynasty’s close, Qing classical scholarship was called to answer to contemporary political concerns. A virulent “Old versus New Text” debate had emerged, as progressive “New Text” (jinwen) advocates like Kang Youwei 康有為 (1858–1927) and Liang Qichao 梁啟超 (1873–1929) sought to bring about a more modern, enlightened academic culture through radical revisions of the Confucian canon. These reformists lauded Yan Ruoqu’s sceptical research on the Old Text Shangshu – the first significant work to challenge the canon’s sacrosanct status – as a pioneering step in this direction.137 As “New Text” ideology flourished in China’s political milieus, a related movement, the Doubting Antiquity School, emerged in academia. Its members questioned the value of preQin literature as historical sources, adopting a highly critical approach to these texts in order to separate fact from myth in China’s early history. Among the group was Gu Jiegang, one of the most influential Chinese historians of the twentieth century, who completed various Qing classical learning at large, see, in addition to Elman, Yu Ying-shih 余英時, “Cong Song Ming ruxue de fazhan lun Qingdai sixiang shi” 從宋明儒學的發展論清代思想史, Zhongguo xueren 中國學人 2 (1970): 19–41; and “Qingdai sixiangshi de yige xin jieshi” 清代思想史的一個新解釋, in his 1976 volume Lishi yu sixiang 歷史與思想, 121–56 (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 2004). 135 Elman “Philosophy versus philology,” 213. 136 Ibid. 137 See Nylan, “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy,” 83–5. 59 studies challenging the historical accuracy and authenticity of the Shangshu, New and Old Text alike.138 Outside the work of the Doubting Antiquity School, internationally-trained text specialists and palaeographers like Paul Pelliot (1878–1945) and Chen Mengjia were also completing painstaking technical research on the history of the Old Text. Equipped with modern archaeological insight, as well as a dearth of new epigraphic literature from the Western Zhou, these specialists corroborated the conclusions of the Qing sceptical scholars, determining that the Old Text had assumed its received form during the fourth century AD, sometime shortly before Mei Ze presented it to court. 139 By the end of the first half of the twentieth century, it was established beyond all doubt that the received Old Text Shangshu was not original to Kong Anguo’s lifetime, let alone stood as evidence in support of romantic legends of Confucius’ editorship. Scholars had also sought to expunge myth from fact with regards to the New Text and its origins. The most distant attributions, particularly in relation to chapters in the Yu Shu and Xia Shu, were set aside as pure tradition. Nevertheless, scholars remained fully convinced of the New Text’s connection to Fu Sheng, who had transmitted it across the threshold of the Warring States period and into the early empires as an already-stable, well-established body of venerated texts. In this way, Shangshu scholarship entered its contemporary period with it established that the Old Text represented a “forgery” (wei) while the New text represented something See for example, Shangshu tongjian 尚書通檢 (Beiping: Harvard Yanjing Academy, 1936); “Pan Geng zhongpian jinyi” 盤庚中篇今譯, in Gushi bian, ed. Gu, vol. 2, 43–50 (Beiping: Pushe, 1930); “Pan Geng shangpian jinyi” 盤庚上篇今譯, in Ibid., 50–63; and “Jin Teng pian jinyi” 金縢篇今譯, in Ibid., 63–75. Gu was also the first to propose a new organisational framework for the New Text chapters based on historical, linguistic, and philosophical factors, rather than tradition. 139 See for example Chen’s Shangshu tonglun, first published in 1935. 138 60 “authentic” and “verifiable” (zheng 證), following the categories laid down by Yan Ruoqu centuries earlier.140 I suggest classical Chinese (and Shangshu) scholarship entered a contemporary period in the late 1960s/1970s, roughly. This decade coincides with a re-emergence from the existential disruptions of the 1950s and 1960s precluding a stable research environment in mainland China, the maturation of well-resourced Area Studies departments in the United States, and a threshold of recovery for academic institutions in mainland Europe and Japan following World War II. See Martin Kern, “The Emigration of German Sinologists 1933–1945: Notes on the History and Historiography of Chinese Studies,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 118.4 (1998): 507–29 for a detailed review of the changing conditions of Chinese Studies in Europe and the States in the twentieth century. 140 61 Part Three: In the contemporary period As noted in the Introduction, contemporary Shangshu scholarship is the methodological successor to both Qing kaozhengxue and nineteenth-century Western philology, primarily taking the form of textual criticism both in and outside of China. It is empirical, scientific (and at times, positivistic), and consists largely in the reconstruction of historical and historically-correct manifestations of the Shangshu and shu-related texts. A dearth of fine scholarship of this sort first appeared in China in the 1980s, with Ma Yong’s 馬雍 (1931–1985) monograph Shangshu shihua 尚書史話 (1982), which was later followed by two book-length studies, Jiang Shanguo’s Shangshu zongshu 尚書綜述 (1988) and Liu Qiyu’s Shangshu xueshi 尚書學史 (1989). These works have remained standard references for the history of the received texts in recent decades, while the attention of China’s philologists and palaeographers has been drawn to shu-related texts among newlyexcavated manuscript caches, which invite comparison with the received text. 141 One – arguably the most – intractable legacy of Qing empirical scholarship in Shangshu studies is the methodological primacy of establishing the “authentic” text, particularly with regard to the Old Text.142 As shown above, the concept of Shangshu “authenticity” can be traced back to the paradigm employed in Yan Ruoqu’s Shuzheng, where the Old Text is For a survey of the scholarship on the Shangshu alongside related excavated texts over the past few decades, see Ye, “Jin shi nian lai Shangshu redian yanjiu zongshu,” 88–9. This trend is also seen in the study of many other early texts, such as the Daodejing and the Yijing. Refer to Cheng Yuanmin’s 程元敏 Shangshu xueshi 尚書學史 (Taipei: Wunan tushu chubanshe, 2008) for a comprehensive summary of contemporary Chinese-language Shangshu scholarship into the early 2000s. Shih, “Shang shu,” 817–30 is a comprehensive bibliography of contemporary Shangshu research in all languages, organised by subfield. 142 Jiang Shanguo asserts that “[T]he most complicated problem in the Shangshu is the question of textual authenticity (zhenwei).” (“《尚書》裡面最複雜的問題，就是經文真偽的問題。” Zongshu, 133.) 141 62 situated in one of a total of two possible value categories, wei (“forged”) or zheng (“verifiable”). The Old Text’s demotion to “forgery” per this wei/zheng paradigm has had a tremendous impact in contemporary Shangshu scholarship. Scholars often disregard the recension, as evidenced in the number of seminal Shangshu studies and critical editions that elect to omit the chapters exclusive to the Old Text entirely, for example Bernhard Karlgren’s Glosses on the Book of Documents and Qu Wanli’s Shangshu jinzhu jinyi 尚書今註今譯.143 The assessment of the Old Text as a “forgery” is misleading on several fronts. First, the theoretical paradigm of “forged versus authentic,” almost unchanged since the time of Yan Ruoqu, is far too reductive for the purposes of modern textual criticism. As Jiang Shanguo argues in the case of the New Text, establishing textual history is a matter of circumscribing concrete dates and circumstances of production.144 One might ask, why hasn’t it sufficed simply to establish the fact of a fourth-century compilation for the Mei Ze text? What is at stake in pushing further, as Yan does, to identify the text as a “forgery”? The English term “forgery” implies the ex nihilo creation of a new artifact capable of supplanting a real or imagined authentic other. However, as Pelliot indicated over a century ago, the Mei Ze Old Text compiles a multitude of fragments, many of which are attested in other early texts and therefore demonstrably predate the text’s fourth century AD compilation.145 By incorporating Stockholm: Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities, 1970; and Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1975; Qu’s Shangshu shiyi 尚書釋義 includes the Old Text chapters only as a 20-page appendix (Taipei: Zhonghua wenhua chuban shiye weiyuanhui, 1956), 171–92. 144 “[I]t isn’t a question of authenticity, but a question of the date when each chapter was compiled…” (“不是真偽問題，而是各篇整編的時代問題…” Zongshu, 133.) Ye Xiucheng notes that text dating and epochisation has been the most popular topic for Shangshu doctoral studies in recent decades. See “Jin shi nian lai Shangshu redian yanjiu zongshu,” 90. 145 “Today, the best Chinese scholars have come to this unanimous conclusion: K’ong Ngan-kouo’s [Kong Anguo’s] alleged Chou king [Shujing] is a forgery. Does this mean that we have nothing left of the real Chou king? Not at all. The forger simply attributed the 29 chapters of Fou Cheng’s [Fu Sheng’s] authentic recension to the recension of K’ong Ngan-kouo, with more or less sensible details modified. For the rest, he gathered here and there various texts that he sewed together…” (emphasis my own) (“Aujourd’hui, les meilleurs érudits chinois sont arrives à cette conclusion unanime: le prétendu Chou king de K’ong Ngan-kouo est un faux[3]. Est-ce à dire toutefois qu’il ne nous soit rien resté du veritable Chou king? En aucune façon. Mais le faussaire a simplement attribué à la recension de K’ong Ngan-kouo, avec des modifications de detail plus ou moins sensibles, les 29 chapitres de la 143 63 these parts and fragments, the Mei Ze Old Text codifies and gives body to longstanding narrative traditions belonging to the same broad cultural reservoir as those attested in the New Text Shangshu. In other words, in parts “here and there,” the supposed “forgery” is the “authentic” other that it theoretically should supplant.146 The term “forgery” also belies the rich mainstream cultural life of the Mei Ze text, which played a significant role in the thought and literature of China for well over a millennium prior to Yan’s study. Across this period, numerous influential texts, such as the Shangshu Zhengyi and the phonetic glosses of Lu Deming’s 陸德明 (c. 556–630) Jingdian shiwen 經典釋文 (Textual explanations of classics and canons), engaged and transmitted the Mei Ze text as “authentic.”147 And with the exception of limited passages preserved in other Han texts, it is impossible to know with any certainty what the Old Text Shangshu seen by the Lius, Ma Rong, Zheng Xuan and others would have looked like. 148 In other words, the Mei Ze Old Text recension authentique de Fou Cheng. Pour le reste, il a recueilli çà et là des textes divers qu’il a cousus ensemble…”) “Le Chou king,” 127. More to this, it is possible that the “fragment” texts now preserved in the Old Text played an even greater role in the conceptual and rhetorical ecology of early China than the New Text. In a paper “The ‘Shangshu Question’ and Intertextuality in Early China,” Zhuming Yao shared that, within a sample of textual parallels between the Shangshu and a variety of Warring States texts, he found that parallels between the Warring States texts and the Old Text Shangshu outnumbered parallels between the Warring States texts and the New Text. Paper delivered at the Association for Asian Studies 2019 conference, Denver, Colorado, 24th March 2019. 146 Pelliot, “Le Chou king,” 127. 147 A manuscript fragment of the Jingdian shiwen Shangshu – the Shangshu shiwen 尚書釋文 – was found among the caches at Dunhuang 敦煌 at the beginning of the twentieth century. The relationship of this manuscript to the Shangshu shiwen and to the Old Text Shangshu is the subject of Pelliot’s article “Le Chou king.” 148 Michael Nylan offers a tentative theory that “the ku wen Shang shu once in K’ung An-kuo’s possession was comparable in length and in content with Fu Sheng’s 29-p’ien version, except that it contained certain variant ku wen characters in some portion or in all of its text,” while the sixteen additional “pian” were most likely additional commentary to these twenty-nine chapters. “The Ku Wen Documents,” 37; 47. Pelliot moreover suggests that “since [the time of] Lieou Hiang [Liu Xiang] and Lieou Hin [Liu Xin], there had been a certain fusion between Fou-cheng’s [Fu Sheng] text and that of K’ong Ngan-kouo [Kong Anguo].” (“…depuis Lieou Hiang et Lieou Hin, il s’était opéré une certaine fusion entre le texte de Fou-cheng et celui de K’ong Ngan-kouo.” “Le Chou king,” 145.) The reconstruction of the Kong Anguo Old Text is further confounded by the fiction of the Old/New Text “controversy”. This anachronism places the Shangshu (along with a number of other texts) at the centre of a non-existent debate between Han-period text scholars; see Nylan, “The Ku Wen Documents,” 26, and “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy.” 64 is the only Old Text, and this has been the case for two thousand years. For these reasons, it has been welcome to see the emergence of text scholarship problematising the “forgery” label, and revisiting preconceived notions of textual “authenticity” vis a vis the Shangshu.149 Following on from the early work of Wang Baode 王保德 and Hu Qiu 胡秋 in the 1970s, see the work of Yang Shanqun 楊善群, for example “Lun guwen Shangshu de xueshu jiazhi” 論古文《尚書》的學術價值, Kongzi yanjiu 孔子研究 (2004 no.5): 30–1. The positions of mainland Chinese academics are summarised by Ding Ding 丁鼎 (i.e. Cheng Qili 程奇立) in “Wei guwen Shangshu an pingyi” 偽古文尚書案平議, Guji zhengli yanjiu xuekan 古籍整理研究學刊 (2010 no.2): 1–8, and Ye, “Jin shi nian lai Shangshu redian yanjiu zongshu,” 87–8. 149 65 Conclusion “Shangshu” refers to an ever-morphing literary ontology that includes excavated shu, the received Shangshu, and other related text traditions, with a history more complex than that of any other title in China’s pre-modern literature. As seen in this chapter, scholars and other actors in the reception, study, and use of this “ever-morphing literary ontology” have consistently circled back to one question: What makes something “Shangshu”? During the early empires, the Shangshu was delimited through official canonisation, its meaning prescribed by state-sanctioned “correct” (zheng 正) interpretations. By the later imperial period, while official learning continued to hold sway, the Shangshu was additionally contested according to empirical standards of “authenticity.” And in the modern period, scholars continued to pursue the reconstruction of the Shangshu and its meaning through empirical methods, in many cases moving away from the “‘forged’ versus ‘authentic’” paradigm formulated in the Qing to focus instead on simply retrieving and chronologising the Shangshu’s numerous historical manifestations.150 In the context of the “correctness” and “authenticity” paradigms of the premodern scholarship, the wholeness of Shangshu is conceptualised in terms of resemblance to an idealised original consisting in the verbatim words of the early kings and organised into a These intellectual movements (the canonisation of state-sponsored texts and commentaries in the early empires, the debate over the concept of evidential “authenticity” in the later imperial period, and the methodological separation of “history” and mythology in the twentieth century) have redefined the boundaries of “the Shangshu” itself. Moreover, the discourse of Shangshu-ness in each of these movements has, explicitly or implicitly, refracted the existential concerns of a contested “China.” Be it the state imperialists of the Han, the text empiricists of the Qing, the modernisers of the early twentieth century, or the political nationalists of the modern day People’s Republic, generations of ideological and political stakeholders have seized upon the Shangshu’s ambiguities as a proxy for the negotiation of Chinese identity, culture, and history, reframing the terms of Shangshu research in the process. Any account of the scholarship of Shangshu cannot afford overlook the context of this scholarship, as a vitally contested ground of cultural and political discourse. 150 66 hundred pian by Confucius. In the context of the empirical work of the late Qing and modern period, Shangshu wholeness is primarily conceptualised in terms of resemblance to an historical form(s). However, paradigms of “original” texts do still slip into much of this work, in references to the intangible “original intentions” or “original meanings” (benyi) behind the manifest content of the texts, or in a preference for reconstructing as earlier a form of the Shangshu as possible. This latent influence in the scholarship is powerfully demonstrated in the case of the Old Text (inclusive of Wu Cheng); as a fourth century “forgery” with no corresponding form in the pre-imperial period, the Old Text is a text with neither an original or an early counterpart, and, as discussed in parts Two and Three, it has been almost entirely overlooked by scholars. As demonstrated in part One of this chapter, there are substantial barriers to reconstructing early pre-Qin historical shu, and the reconstruction of an “original” Shangshu is moreover simply impossible. As discussed in the Introduction, there has been a modest amount of scholarship recently evaluating the New Text and its constituent texts (inclusive of Mu Shi) as narrative, historical, or philosophical literature in their own right. And as seen in part One, some scholars have begun to think seriously about the intrinsic rhetorical and morphological features of shu. Nevertheless, the possible wholeness (or lack thereof) of shu, the Shangshu recensions, or any individual texts collected within them is, overall, conceptualised primarily as a function of resemblance to either historical or original forms, with very limited accounts of wholeness of intrinsic content or structure. The field as such still has some way to go in this respect. 67 Chapter Two: Bibliographical introduction to Huainanzi 淮南子 This essay serves as comprehensive bibliographical introduction to Huainanzi. The first part is a critical survey of the circumstances of the text’s production, reception, and transmission. The second part outlines the text’s content before explaining how the academic community have engaged with this. I discuss the discourse around, first, the text’s claims about the unity and comprehensiveness of its own content, and second, its traditional categorisation under the ideological affiliation “miscellaneous” (za). These discussions serve two functions. First, they support and inform the interpretation of selected Huainanzi passages across chapters Four and Five. Second, they provide a deeper context around the handling of the question of the wholeness of Huainanzi within the scholarship, substantiating and extending the surveys made in the project introduction. 68 Part One: Production and transmission of the text The details of Huainanzi’s production have long been a source of contention. Traditionally, the work is attributed to Liu An.151 While the idea of a solitary mind producing an encyclopaedic work like Huainanzi is no doubt compelling, the sheer variety and technical depth demonstrated across its chapters seem to preclude the possibility of a recurring primary author from the outset; the task would “demand a mastery of an extensive body of specialized information.”152 The earliest historical sources on the matter include Liu An’s official biographies in Sima Qian’s 司馬遷 (d. c. 86 BC) Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian) and Ban Gu’s 班固 (32–92) Hanshu 漢書 (Book of the Han), an account in Wang Chong’s Lunheng, and Gao You’s 高誘 (c. 168–212) preface to his commentary to Huainanzi.153 As these sources attest, the Huainan court in Shouchun 壽春 was a literary and cultural powerhouse. From 154 BC onwards, Liu hosted to a large roster of retainers with diverse specialisms, organising debates on their behalf, as well as patronising other forms of creative exchange. 154 It is not difficult to imagine that Huainanzi could have been produced in this collaborative context, as a multiauthor work. As much is indicated in Gao’s preface, which names eight individuals (besides The earliest attribution of the text to Liu An and his entourage is the Lunheng. Wing-tsit Chan (1901–1994), for one, believed that Huainanzi is Liu An. A source book in Chinese philosophy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), 305. 152 Roth, Textual History, 20. 153 See note 50, page 25 above, and D. C. Lau 劉殿爵 and Cheng Fong Ching 陳方正, ed., Lunheng zhuzi suoyin 論衡逐字索引 (Hong Kong: Commercial Press, Institute of Chinese Studies Ancient Texts Concordance Series, 1996), 30/148/12–13. 154 Roth, Textual History, 16–7. Roth asserts that “[t]his community became a focal point of the distinctive culture of the former state of Ch’u, whose boundaries had included Huai-nan.” Ibid., 16. 151 69 Liu) that he claims to have been involved in the project. 155 If one accepts a theory of multiple author-contributors, the question remains of what role Liu himself played in the production of the work. There is evidence of Liu’s competence in a broad range of scholastic pursuits, from poetry and belles lettres to philosophy and the esoteric arts, lending support to the traditional belief that he held a significant role. 156 Judson B. Murray refers to a close study of the summary chapter “Yaolüe” 要略 (“Summarising the Essentials”) to argue that a singular editorial consciousness guided the text’s production, and that Liu An represents as likely a candidate for this as any. 157 Hanmo Zhang suggests another dimension to Liu’s role, as an informed patron. 158 The implication of Zhang’s suggestion is that Huainanzi is not only multi-authored, but a corporate work, produced within an institutional context, in a process officially directed and overseen by Liu. This description certainly tallies with the sources.159 For the purposes of the present study, it suffices to conclude that Huainanzi materialised out of debates sponsored by Liu An’s court, under his Roth regards the use of the term gong 共 (“together; jointly”) in the preface in reference to the compilation as further evidence that this was a collaborative exercise between Liu An and the eight named guests. Textual History, 22. Very little is known about these eight outside of the mention in Gao’s preface. 156 Ibid., 23–4 provides a bibliography of seven literary endeavours in Hanshu “Yiwen zhi” attributed to Liu An and his court. From these, only Huainan nei 淮南內 survives, as Huainanzi. Roth notes two further titles attributed to Liu An in his biography (in Hanshu), Lisao zhuan 離騷傳 (Commentary to “Encountering Sorrow”) and Huainan zhongpian 淮南中篇 (Central chapters of Huainan). In addition, two “genuine”-seeming commentaries to the Zhuangzi are attributed to Liu by Li Shan 李善 (630–689 AD); see Ibid., 25–6. Roth notes an overall total of twelve (authentic) writings attributable to Liu An and/or his court, summarising: “it’s clear that the court of Liu An was one of the principal centers of intellectual activity of its time, rivaled only by the capital of the empire at Ch’ang-an. […] [T]he works that Liu An authored and participated in corroborate the biographical evidence that testifies to his philosophic, esoteric and poetic interests and talents.” Ibid., 26. 157 “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’.” Murray’s “strong suspicion, albeit largely speculative, in that Liu An was very familiar with the contents of each chapter and took upon himself the task of composing the postface to the work.” 57. Roth also holds that “there must have been an overall directing and editing force,” Textual History, 22. 158 “4 The Author as a Patron: Prince of Huainan, the Owner-Author,” in Authorship and Textmaking in Early China, 175–240 (Boston, MA: De Gruyter, 2018). An earlier version of the argument can be seen in “The Lore of Liu An and the Authorship of the Huainanzi,” Monumenta Serica – Journal of Oriental Studies 64.2 (2016): 333–59. 159 This is the position taken by Queen and Puett in the introduction to Huainanzi and Textual Production; see page 4. 155 70 auspices and patronage. “How great a part the hand of Liu An did, in fact, play in the unity of the Huai-nan-tzu is,” as Benjamin Wallacker puts it, “a problem whose difficulty outweighs its importance.”160 In putting the issue of historical fact to one side, it is nevertheless important to remain aware of how the “lore of Liu An” (to borrow Zhang’s phrasing) has not only diverted and conditioned generations of scholarly investigation into Huainanzi’s textual history, but also sustained a body of biographical criticism that employs this “lore” as strategy for reconstructing the text and its thought. 161 The “lore of Liu An” cannot be understood without reference to the broader political situation of the early Western Han. (The biography of Liu An also serves as a microhistory of this wider political situation.) Liu An was the grandson of Han primogenitor Liu Bang 劉邦, i.e. Han Emperor Gaozu 漢高祖 (r. c. 206–195 BC), as well as uncle to Emperor Wu, the reigning emperor when he ascended to the throne in Huainan in 164 BC. The official histories of Huainan in the Shiji and Hanshu describe decades of fatal conflict between Liu An’s immediate family in the South and his imperial relatives at the capital in Chang’an 長安. Liu Chang 劉長 (198–174 BC), Liu An’s father and seventh son of Liu Bang, died in exile The Huai-nan-tzu, Book Eleven, 2. Wallacker believes that “Liu An himself was certainly capable of contributing to the writing of the book. […] We may presume that his role was more than mere literary patron, that he may have moderated discussions, suggested topics for essays, perhaps even submitted outlines.” 161 Sources on Liu himself of course include his official biography in the received Shiji and Hanshu, although Vankeerberghen advises that this “was rewritten to depict [him] in the most evil of lights,” The Huainanzi and Liu An’s Claim to Moral Authority (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001), 8. Additionally, there is a Daoist tradition describing Liu An as an immortal (xian 仙), as seen for example in Ge Hong’s 葛洪 (283–343) hagiography “Huainan wang” 淮南王 in Shenxian zhuan 神仙傳 (Biographies of Deities and Immortals); see Wenyuange siku quanshu 文淵閣四庫全書 vol. 1059, 253–311 (Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1986), 284–5. Some information about Liu also appears in the “Bing Lüe Xun” 兵略訓 (“Military Strategy”) chapter of Huainanzi; see He, Jishi, 1043–100. The personae of Liu An that arise out of these sources are colourful and conflicting; Vankeerberghen’s monograph unpicks these, comparing the values they represent with the thought of Huainanzi itself. For a briefer overview of the same, see Wallacker, “Liu An, Second King of Huainan (180?-122 B. C.),” Journal of the American Oriental Society 92.1 (1972): 36–51. 160 71 following the accusation of attempted reason against Emperor Wen 文帝 (r. 180–157 BC).162 History would repeat itself in 123–122 BC, when Emperor Wu issued an edict denouncing Liu An and his court. Liu, faced with arrest, took his own life, following which his immediate family and entourage were executed. 163 The total disintegration of relations within the extended Liu clan ran its course within Liu An’s lifetime, as the Emperor was said to have gladly received the Neishu from him only a little more than a decade earlier, in 139 BC. The conflict that fractured the Liu clan, led to Liu An’s demise, and dissolved Huainan as a self-governing kingdom corresponded to a greater existential schism in the early Han regime. In its first decades, the regime oscillated between a Zhou-style multi-centre confederacy of semi-autonomous kingdoms on the one hand, and Qin-style authoritarian rule, concentrating power in the capital, on the other.164 However, following the Seven Kingdoms Rebellion of 154 BC (and similar events), which involved large kingdoms such as Wu 吳, Chu, and Qi 齊, the central government moved to increase its power, for example setting up new commanderies. Over the decades that followed, relations between centre and periphery deteriorated;165 Emperor Wu’s reign was marked overall as a “period of increased authoritarian rule.”166 In this context, the events of 123–122 BC marked a watershed, indexing the moment that the Han cast itself once and for all in the shape of a centralised autocratic Shiji, 3075–81; Hanshu, 2135–44. Shiji, 3094. These events are traditionally dated to 122 BC; Vankeerberghen dates them to 123 BC. See Liu An’s Claim, 1. See A. F. P. Hulsewé, “Royal Rebels,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 69 (1981): 315–25 for an historical study of the crackdown on Huainan. 164 Major et al., Essential Huainanzi, 2–3. For an overview of the top-down social and political changes of the early empires, see Qian Mu, “Zhongguo shehui yanbian” 中國社會演變, in Guoshi xinlun 國史新論, 1–41 (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2002), 8–9; 12–8. 165 Jia Yi 賈誼 (201–169 BC), Chao Cuo, and Zhufu Yan 主父偃 (d. ca. 127 BC) submitted recommendations to the throne suggesting that efforts be taken to dilute the autonomy of kingdoms like Huainan, for example through the splitting of deceased noble kings’ territories equally among their sons. Shiji, 802; 1071; 2961. Liu An submitted a memorial of his own, criticising the central government’s military intervention in the neighbouring state of Minyue 閩越. Hanshu, 160. 166 Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim, 7. 162 163 72 empire, which (allowing a brief interregnum) ultimately endured for four centuries. 167 In this precise context, the gesture of producing a Southern cosmological magnum opus and then presenting this to the Emperor in the capital indexes a complicated web of political forces. As Vankeerberghen notes, Liu An’s presentation of the text in 139 BC can be (and has been) parsed in almost opposite ways, both as a strategy for showing deference to the capital as well as a means to assert the South’s cultural and moral superiority. 168 This aspect of the text’s early life has of course inspired many attendant interpretation of its contents, with many scholars noting the contingent political implications of Huainanzi’s expansive, pluralistic cosmology, “which produced ten thousand things without possessing or dominating them,” and looking to the Lius’ internal diplomatic situation as its possible hermeneutical key.169 Liu An “ruled his territory with the specter of ultimate annexation hanging over his court,” Roger T. Ames, The Art of Rulership: A Study in Ancient Chinese Political Thought (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1983), xvi; and “after [122 BC] […] power was transferred from the Liu family as a corporate whole to the reigning emperor alone.” Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim, 3. 168 “By offering the Huainanzi to Emperor Wu in 139 BC, Liu An was professing his loyalty to Emperor Wu on the one hand, and advertising his own suitability as a sage adviser, on the other.” Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim, 2. However, “by 123 BC Liu An’s claim to possess the moral knowledge indispensable for a sage-ruler was construed as a sign of rebellious intent.” Ibid., 1. Vankeerberghen’s study as a whole “[explores] the connection between Liu An’s Huainanzi and the political annihilation of his kingdom,” arguing “that the demise of Liu An and his kingdom occurred because by 122 BC the moral and political climate of the early Han dynasty had profoundly changed.” Ibid., 1. 169 Wang Aihe, Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 196. Vankeerberghen’s Liu An’s Claim also offers “an analysis of the Huainanzi as a text that is inherently antithetical to the autocratic agenda,” 79. Wang, Cosmology and Political Culture, 173–209 more broadly discusses the function of abstract cosmological debate as a proxy for dissenting political commentary in Huainanzi and the works of Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (c. 179–c. 104 BC). See Michael Loewe’s informative review of Wang’s book for an alternative assessment of the relationship between politics and cosmology “The Cosmological Context of Sovereignty in Han Times,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 65.2 (2002): 342– 49. Nathan Sivin also makes connection between cosmology and imperialism in Huainanzi, listing it among several large-scale texts from the early Han – including Dong Zhongshu’s chief work Chunqiu Fanlu 春秋繁露 (Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals – that tout a totalising integration of state, self, and cosmos. See “State, Cosmos, and Body in the Last Three Centuries B.C,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 55 (1995): 5–37. For Dong Zhongshu, see also Puett, The Ambivalence of Creation: Debates Concerning Innovation and Artifice in Early China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 168–76. Dong argued for centralisation and uniformity of thought, in c. 140 BC submitting a memorial suggesting that only Confucian teachings be officially prescribed, to the exclusion of all other schools; see Hanshu, 56. 167 73 After the Emperor received the Neishu in 139 BC, the work was sequestered in the imperial archives. It remained there for over a century until approximately 10 BC, when Liu Xiang collated and arranged the work, renaming it Huainan nei 淮南內. This is the title under which the text is catalogued in the Hanshu “Yiwen zhi” 藝文志 (“Technical Monograph on Art and Literature”).170 The transmission of the text thereafter “has been carried on continuously over a period of more than 2,100 years,” and forms the subject of a comprehensive study by Harold Roth.171 Roth divides this period of continuous transmission in two. The second period corresponds to the period from the early Ming to the present day. Many editions survive to “adequately attest to the continued survival of the Huainanzi and its commentaries” during this period. 172 So considerable in number are these editions that in the second part of Roth’s book, “the principal focus shifts to the determination of their filiation, that is, their genealogical relationships.”173 However, evidence of transmission in the first period, which corresponds to the ~1500 years between 139 BC and the beginning of the Ming, is much sparser. In addition to the early bibliographies discussed above, the text is listed in the bibliographical monographs of later dynastic histories and the catalogues of various private collections (the oldest of which dates to the twelfth century.) Huainanzi is also mentioned, discussed, cited, and paraphrased (with and without attestation) in other works, such as in the works of Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 BC–18 AD), Wang Chong’s Lunheng, Liezi 列子, Wenzi 文子, and various Loewe offers a new analysis of Dong’s life and work in Dong Zhongshu, a “Confucian” Heritage and the Chunqiu Fanlu (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 170 Hanshu, 30. See Roth, Textual History, 27; 55–6. Roth believes it is possible that a second manuscript existed in Liu An’s personal library and may have been recovered from his estate after his death. 171 Ibid., 2. 172 Ibid., 3. 173 Ibid., 2–3. “The work has gone through an untold number of manuscripts and printed editions and has been included in an equally great number of public and private collections.” Ibid. 74 leishu 類書 (anthologies).174 Finally, the text is preserved in the commentaries of Xu Shen 許慎 (c. 58 –c. 148) and Gao You, both of which are still partially extant.175 Initially, the Xu and Gao commentaries would have been associated with two unique recensions with considerable variation between them. However, they merged into a composite recension at an unknown time.176 Knowledge of the merger was lost for approximately a millennium, during which period all the chapters were assumed to correspond to the Gao redaction alone.177 The identity of the Xu commentary chapters was re-established in the Qing with the work of Tao Fangqi 陶方埼 (1845–1884).178 The preface to Gao’s Huainanzi also includes vital biographical information about him that contributes somewhat to the understanding of the text’s transmission.179 Today, there are eighty-seven extant complete editions of Huainanzi, in addition to a further two distinct recensions surviving in fragmentary form. 180 The only extant complete pre-Ming edition dates from Northern Song (960–1127), and an extant partial pre-Ming Roth, Textual History, 10. While a total of four (possibly five) commentaries were composed for Huainanzi during the Eastern Han, only the Xu and Gao were transmitted onwards. Roth conjectures that Xu’s edition was completed in 115 AD, while Gao’s was completed in c. 212 AD; Ibid., 27; 35. Xu’s commentary was titled Huainan honglie xiangu (Xu Shen jishang) 淮南鴻烈閒詁 (許慎記上) – the earliest known reference to Huainanzi as “Honglie” 鴻烈 – the possible meanings of which Roth discusses at length, Ibid., 36–8. Gao’s edition was called Huainan honglie jiejing 淮南鴻烈解經 (Luminous book of Huainan with an explanation of the text), Ibid., 41. There is also evidence Xu’s commentary was known to Gao, Ibid., 34. 176 Roth discusses possible evidence of the merger in Ibid., 29. 177 Ibid., 27. 178 Huainan Xu zhu yitong gu 淮南許注異同詁 (1881; rpt. Wenhai, c. 1968). Chapters 1–9, 13, 16, 17, and 19 correspond to the Gao commentarial tradition, while Chapters 10–12, 14, 15, 18, 20, and 21 correspond to Xu Shen. Roth explains the contributions of Qing scholars Bi Yuan 畢沅 (1730– 1797), Qian Tang 錢塘 (1735–1790), Zhuang Kuiji 莊逵吉 (1760–1813), Lao Ge 勞格 (1820–1864), and Lu Xinyuan 陸心源 (1834–1894) to the rediscovery of the hybrid nature of the received Huainanzi; Textual History, 28–9. He cites Tao’s study as the “most thorough,” Ibid., 38. 179 Roth gives a translation of the part of this preface in which Gao’s biography is discussed, Ibid., 40–1. 180 Ibid., 3. As noted above, the entire second part of Roth’s book corresponds to a study of the filiation of these editions, providing “complete identifying information and critical assessments” for each. Ibid., 4. 174 175 75 edition, a late ninth century fragment of a Huainanzi chapter, was also discovered in Japan.181 Finally, scholars have noted an affinity between some of the content of Huainanzi and certain finds in the Mawangdui 馬王堆 cache.182 181 182 Roth, Textual History, 10–1. See Murray, “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 49, note 7. 76 Part Two: Nature and content of the text Huainanzi is a project of ambitious scope. At the time of its production, the text would have surpassed even the largest work of the time, Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Spring and Autumn Annals of Mister Lü), in size.183 And in its postface “Yaolüe”, the text explicitly claims to synthesise all knowledge of the world to become a perfect, complete, and eternal articulation of the world (or as Michael Puett puts it, the “final sage.”) 184 Huainanzi thereby supposedly subsumes and renders obsolete all other conceptual projects, past, present, and future, to stand as the ultimate ruler’s manual. Huainanzi was not unique in the pursuit of comprehensive knowledge during the Han. The project is paradigmatic of a wider trend that M. E. Lewis terms the “encyclopaedic epoch.” 185 Where older literary projects derived their authority from membership to the category of jing 經 (“classics”) or from sophistication of argument, the vast syncretic outputs of the Han derived their authority from their claim to, as Puett puts it, “absolute comprehensiveness – to Produced by Lü Buwei 呂不韋 (291–235 BC), chancellor to the first emperor of Qin. Murray quotes the “Yaolüe”, “[Thus] with these treatises we have expanded the discussion of such things until nothing more could be said. And so for those who care to study them, we certainly hope there will be nothing left to say,” “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 82 (“推之以論，則無可諸，所以為學者，固欲致之不言而已也。” He, Jishi, 1455.) He summarises “Yaolüe” as claiming that Huainanzi “not only embraces and subsumes […] other innovations but also transforms them and ultimately supersedes them,” “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 90. Puett also notes “Yaolüe’s” “explicit claim […] that the Huainanzi is a work that is fully universalizable” in “Violent Misreadings,” 42; see also “The Temptations of Sagehood,” 29. Major, Queen et al. note the same in the introduction to Essential Huainanzi, 4–5. For Huainanzi as the “final sage,” see Puett’s chapter “Sages, Creation, and the End of History in the Huainanzi” in Queen and Puett, Huainanzi and Textual Production, 267–90: 285. Puett explores Huainanzi’s claim to comprehensive and its strategies for achieving this in many of his other publications, including To become a god, 259–86; “The Temptations of Sagehood”; and “Violent Misreadings.” 185 Lewis, Writing and Authority, 287–336. 183 184 77 incorporate all knowledge and supersede all previous sagely writings.”186 The totalisation of knowledge that these encyclopaedic texts aimed at was not unlike the centralisation of power that was being achieved through the imperial transformation of politics. In this sense, Huainanzi can be understood as seeking to achieve something similar to the exhaustive cataloguing project of the imperial library during the later Western Han. 187 Huainanzi’s claim to cosmological comprehensiveness has proved controversial in two aspects. First, scholars are not entirely convinced that the text does offer a consistent and harmonious unity of thought; these misgivings are linked to the text’s traditional school of thought (jia 家) affiliation. However – second – scholars are not in agreement regarding the suitability of this affiliation. There is broad dissent on the question of which ideological stream Huainanzi belongs to.188 Unity and consistency –– Each of the twenty chapters preceding “Yaolüe” elaborates knowledge of a specific milieu of reality. To this end, they draw on an eclectic range of material from other texts, with Shanhaijing 山海經 (Classic of Mountains and Seas) and Zhuangzi among the most frequently referenced. 189 Scholars have noted that this attempt to “The Temptations of Sagehood,” 30. In this paper, Puett discusses the changing nature and sources of textual authority from the Western Zhou to the Eastern Han (25 AD–220 AD), concluding that “writing […] increasingly came to be divorced from the notion of sagehood,” 42. In the course of the study, he observes a “progressive escalation” in the scope of texts over the five hundred-year period leading up to the Huainanzi’s composition, with regards to both the physical size of texts and with regards to the ambitiousness of their conceptual content. The production and proliferation of texts during the Western Han that reached such a point that one can speak in terms of book culture, with a greater number of texts peddling an ever-greater diversity of ideas in increasingly vibrant and competitive market, staking increasingly bold soteriological claims. It is in this context that Puett understands Lüshi Chunqiu and Huainanzi’s “claim to incorporate the ideas of all previous sages into a new and comprehensive synthesis,” 29. By the Eastern Han, he explains, the overreach of these vast syncretic texts was undercut by a rising commentary culture, which sought to reach back to the real meanings of the Western Zhou sages through the techniques of exegesis (xungu). 187 A claim made by Zhang in Authorship and Text-making, 320–1. 188 In addition to intellectual affiliation and unity, Murray also identifies originality as core concern with the text, “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 46. For my purposes, this concern is adequately addressed in exploring the two issues mentioned. 189 For a systematic study of textual parallels in Huainanzi, see D. C. Lau and Cheng Fong Ching, ed., Huainanzi zhuzi suoyin 淮南子逐字索引 (Hong Kong: Commercial Press, Institute of Chinese 186 78 synthesise such disparate areas of knowledge has led to peculiar and jarring juxtapositions in the text, as well as bloated and repetitious passages.190 However, as claimed in a dearth of recent scholarship, the text’s large scale and superficial variety in fact belie an underlying literary and philosophical coherency. 191 Murray explains, “[t]he problem is twofold: on the one hand, readers must come to grips with the great diversity within individual chapters, and, on the other, they must also make sense of the various chapters in relation to one another.”192 This is accomplished by taking the text as a whole. As Murray goes on to show, “[w]ith the exception of the first chapter of the work, every preceding chapter, at least in theory, establishes the foundation or philosophical groundwork upon which the next chapter relies in elucidating its own subject matter.” 193 This Studies Ancient Chinese Texts Concordance Series, 1992). Chapters One and Two are heavily based on Daodejing and Zhuangzi, respectively. Martin Kern points out that in addition to the variety and eclecticism of its subject matter and references, the text also showcases “a repertoire of Western Han literary forms used in political or philosophical persuasion,” both prose and poetic; “Creating a Book and Performing It,” 126. He points out that “Yaolüe” “itself contains the linguistic totality that gives expression to the philosophical one. In other words, the spectacle and totality of language are performed to embody the spectacle and totality of philosophical thought that in turn embody the spectacle and totality of the cosmos and political sphere.” Ibid., 133. The use of poetic idiom was integral to Southern philosophical thinking in Liu An’s time. Ibid., 129. 190 “[T]here is very little unity at the level of terminology. Words mean different things and are evaluated differently from chapter to chapter or from passage to passage within a given chapter. It is also hard to find unity at the level of ideas. Ideas overlay or even contradict one another if taken at face value,” Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim, 5. For a response to the charge of needless repetitiousness, see Nylan, “A Note on Logical Connectives in the Huainanzi,” in Queen and Puett, Huainanzi and Textual Production, 225–65: 264–5. 191 See for example Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim: “the Huainanzi presents a single, coherent argument, despite its multiple authorship and minor internal contradictions,” 3. Harold Roth also acknowledges “the variations in literary style and the duplication of topics between some of the essays, the seemingly abrupt change of topic within a few others, and the apparently different viewpoints expressed within the book as a whole,” while simultaneously observing “the consistency in underlying philosophical outlook and the appearance of an intentional order to the essays,” in addition to “an underlying unity of interpretation that could only have come from one author,” Textual History, 13; 19. Note that both Vankeerberghen and Roth here link the question of textual and philosophical unity to the question of single author- or editorship, whereby evidence for one might be seen as evidence for the other. 192 Murray, “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 50. 193 Ibid., 75. Pages 98–108 evaluate Huainanzi’s synthesis of precursors. His argument is that earlier chapters explicate essential “dao” 道, while later chapters apply this knowledge to specific and contingent human affairs (shi 事). 79 parallels Queen and Puett’s argument in the introduction to Huainanzi and Textual Production, which holds that the first eight chapters form a core or “root” while the remaining ones divert into derivative “branches” (zhi 支).194 In the same volume, Martin Kern argues that “Yaolüe” organises the titles of the first twenty chapters into a rhyming list (according to yunbu 韻部), thereby securing the sequence of this list and, therefore, the chapters themselves.195 Overall, the present consensus is that the topical compendia of the twenty-one chapters build upon one another in a strict accretional structure, establishing the text as an overarching conceptual whole through sequence. This is supported by studies of individual chapters that have found internal consistency.196 Ideological affiliation –– Around 10 BC, when Liu Xiang recorded the text that would become known as Huainanzi in the catalogues of the imperial library, he categorised this under zajia (“eclectic” or “miscellaneous”).197 The zajia classification has been the subject of much contention. In the first instance (accepting the applicability of the traditional Han taxonomical categories), some scholars believe that the text would be better represented were it listed under the daojia 道家 (“Daoist”) or Huang-Lao 黄老 (“Yellow Emperor-Laozi Thought”) categories. Roth posits that Huainanzi “is the principal representative of Huang-Lao thought during the Han,” and that “[i]ts essays contain the ideas of many earlier currents of thought woven together in a Taoist framework.”198 Vankeerberghen, by contrast, affirms that “the Huainanzi is best 1–19. In his chapter in the same volume, Andrew Meyer claims that, since “the text of the Huainanzi itself is laid out in accordance with this roots and branches principle; […] it partakes of the same organic logic that it portrays as pervading all ontological and existential realms.” 34. 195 Queen and Puett, Huainanzi and Textual Production, 136–9. 196 For example Ames’ study of “Bing Lüe Xun”: “although The Art of Rulership shapes its theory out of the entire corpus of pre-Han literature, there is a consistency in its proposed method of government,” The Art of Rulership, xvii. 197 Hanshu, 1741. 198 Roth, Textual History, 13; 2. 194 80 loosely labelled as an eclectic text and that efforts to label it “Daoist” or “Huang Lao” do more to mask the nature of the text than to reveal it,”199 adding that such efforts moreover often reveal an ulterior motive on the part of the categoriser. 200 Queen, for her part, contends that Huainanzi is beyond affiliation.201 Second, many scholars problematise the term zajia itself, as this appears to encompass a range of projects from the merely miscellaneous to the highly syncretic. Lüshi Chunqiu falls into the category, and as Roth points, “each essay [in it] is written from the [separate] standpoint of a single tradition,” while “[i]n the Huai-nan Tzu, the Confucian, Legalist, and Mohist ideas are removed from their unique philosophical traditions and placed in a Taoist cosmological and political framework.”202 Dai Junren is explicit that za should imply some degree of synthesis.203 (He moreover points out that since the zajia was carved out of daojia, and daojia itself is extremely muddled, these are effectively the same category.) 204 In his analysis of the “Bing Lüe Xun” 兵略訓 (“Military Strategy”) chapter, Roger Ames takes a similar position, arguing that while “[t]here is a general spirit of eclecticism which pervades the text,” the overall effect is one of a work that is “original” and “syncretic” in “reconciling Vankeerberghen, Liu An’s Claim, 3. These motives include “[f]irst […] that the Huainanzi was written with the intention of defending a Daoist or Huang Lao school or tradition.[n.14] Second, […] [they] wish to privilege the sources – and the chapters within Huainanzi that draw most heavily and explicitly on them – that can be most easily identified with the Daoist tradition, as exemplified by texts such as the Zhuangzi 莊子 or Laozi 老子.” Ibid., 4. 201 “Inventories of the Past: Rethinking the ‘School’ Affiliation of the Huainanzi,” Asia Major 14.1 (2001): 51–72. Paul Goldin also argues against any school affiliation for Huainanzi on the basis that the text is anti-intellectual. “Insidious Syncretism in the Political Philosophy of Huai-nan-tzu,” Asian Philosophy 9.3 (1999): 165–91. 202 Roth, Textual History, 19. 203 “[Zajia] does not constitute a group because it groups together many schools (jia), but because one person blends the learning of many schools and studies them singlehandedly.” (“我想雜家之所以稱為雜，不是由於集合多家，而成一個集團，而是由於一人混合多家之學一人而兼眾學，才可稱為雜家。” Dai, Quanji, 279.) 204 Ibid., 275–9. Refer also to Nathan Sivin, “On the Word ‘Taoist’ as a Source of Perplexity. With Special Reference to the Relations of Science and Religion in Traditional China,” History of Religions 17.3/4, “Current Perspectives in the Study of Chinese Religions” (Feb.–May 1978): 303–30. 199 200 81 selected elements of conflicting ideologies and, out of this activity, constructing new philosophical theory.”205 The particular difficulty of classifying Huainanzi leads into a broader discussion about the deficiency of the categories themselves, for which the situation of the Huainanzi serves as a case in point. The categories are an invention designed to suit the needs of the Han librarians and manifest the conceptual limitations of that project.206 Liu Xiang’s categories are not immutable and they are not built to classify everything. The Art of Rulership, xv; 22; xiv. The contingencies of the traditional school taxonomies have been addressed by numerous studies, first and foremost in the work of Michael Loewe; see for example “Huang-Lao Thought and the Huainanzi,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Series 3, 4.3 (Nov. 1994): 377–95. For an overview of the ideological context from which these categories emerged, refer to his Faith, Myth, and Reason in Han China (Cambridge, MA: Hackett, 2005). Other discussions of the same include Mark Csikszentmihàlyi, “Traditional Taxonomies and Revealed Texts in the Han,” in Daoist Identity: History, Lineage, and Ritual, ed. By Livia Kohn and Harold Roth, 81–101 (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 2002); and Lewis, Writing and Authority, 488, including note 6. Dai refers to zajia as “a school that emerged as occasion demanded it” (“雜家是應運而起的學派,” Quanji, 279), and gives an account of the similarly contingent creation of the school category daojia; Ibid., 275–9. 205 206 82 Conclusion Huainanzi is a text that positions itself as an account of everything ever. The reception of Huainanzi’s ambitious cosmology, as well as the textual strategies through which it mounts its cosmological claim, has historically been tempered by several concerns. These include the role of an historical and/or mythologised Liu An in the text’s production and reception; the relationship between the text’s ideas and Liu An’s personal and political situation; the degree to which the project was enmeshed conceptually with the wider political situation of the early Western Han; the conceptual and stylistic consistency of the text itself; the applicability of its categorisation under the rubric of “zajia” or indeed any traditional ideological school; and the tension between its claim to philosophical unity and the traditional zajia classification. Unfortunately, contemporary Huainanzi scholarship is in a less advanced state than that of other texts of the same era or genre, and so many of these concerns are yet to be explored indepth through multiple studies. (The first translation-study of the complete text in a Western language is less than twenty years old, to give a sense of how much remains to be done even in the reconstruction of the text and its basic history.) 207 In what dedicated Huainanzi scholarship there is, text wholeness is primarily conceptualised in terms of resemblance to its early or even original form, as this was produced in the court of Liu An. While a modest amount of scholarship has emerged in recent years evaluating the text as philosophical or religious literature in its own right, there is still a distinct paucity of work on the possibility of intrinsic text wholeness, in either content or form, discouraged by the zajia affiliation. With the text’s large size, arguments for its 207 Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2. 83 intrinsic unity tends to take the form of either overviews focusing on one, very specific way in which the complete text is consistent (for example, in the use of one particular concept), or on the other hand, complete assessments of just one or two of the text’s twenty-one chapters. Overall, as with the scholarship of many early Chinese texts, there is still some way to go in understanding the wholeness (or lack thereof) of Huainanzi. 84 Chapter Three: Mu Shi 牧誓 (The Mu Harangue) The present chapter offers an interpretation of the complete Mu Shi. The Mu Shi narrative bears witness to a harangue speech given by King Wu, eventual founder of the Zhou, in which he vows to defeat King Zhou of Shang in battle, bringing an end to the Shang dynasty.208 At first glance, the statement at the heart of Wu’s harangue “Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment” appears to be a vow, committing Wu to defeat the Shang and usurp the throne. Departing from this, I argue that the Mu Shi narrative inverts the structure of performative vow-making, thereby constructing a model of leadership as something that hinges on an absolute, self-effacing stoicism. The chapter is structured in three parts. In part One, I read the first half of the text, a contextualising frame that precedes the harangue proper.209 This frame, which locates Wu at the Mu hinterlands, establishes him as king even while he is still an insurgent preparing to overthrow the ruling Shang with his rebel forces. In part Two, I read the remaining half of the text beginning from “The king said, ‘The ancients had a saying’”. This corresponds to the harangue proper, including Wu’s verbal commitment to defeat the Shang. I argue that this harangue conceptualises a world that is predictable and patterned. In part Three, I offer an analysis of commitment-type speech acts. I demonstrate that these are generally precipitated For the historical battle at Mu, which he dates to 1045 BC, see Shaughnessy, “Western Zhou History,” in The Cambridge History of Ancient China, 309–10. Shaughnessy theorises that historical fact passed into the mythical imagination thus: “for later Chinese [the battle] came to illustrate the irrepressible will of Heaven turning its mandate from one state, the rulers of which had grown distant from the people, to another state blessed with virtuous rulers,” Ibid., 292. 209 In addition to Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 282–90, I refer to Bernhard Karlgren, Glosses, 228–231; Qu Wanli, Shangshu shiyi (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1982), 57–9, and Shangshu jinzhu jinyi, 70–3; and James Legge, The Chinese Classics vol. 3, part 1, the Shoo King or the Book of Historical Documents (London: Trübner; Hong Kong: London Missionary Society Press, 1865), 300– 5. 208 85 by uncertain futures, paradoxically encompassing the possible failure of a vow. In the conclusion, I bring these findings together to argue that Wu discerns and acquiesces to an inevitable future determined by the patterned workings of heaven. This reverses the structure of a “normal” commitment, which has its genesis in openness to the unknown. The reversal is reflected in Mu Shi’s circular chronology. By stoically aligning himself to iron-cast outcomes in this way, Wu guarantees success for the Zhou insurgency, but also diminishes his being in the world. However, I argue that Wu’s purchase of a Zhou success at the cost of personal being serves as an ideal model and characterisation of leadership. 86 Part One: The contextualising frame In this first part of the chapter, I analyse the first half of the text, a contextualising frame that precedes the harangue proper.210 時甲子昧爽，王朝至于商郊牧野，乃誓。王左杖黃鉞，右秉白旄以麾，曰：「逖矣，西土之人！」 The time was daybreak on the jiazi day,211 and the king arrived at the Mu hinterlands at the outlands of Shang at dawn,212 and gave a harangue. In his left hand the king wielded a yellow battle-axe, and in his right he gripped a white mao banner, which he waved to signal. He said, “How far [you have come], men of the Western lands.”213 王曰：「嗟！我友邦冢君、御事、司徒、司馬、司空，亞旅、師氏，千夫長、百夫長，及庸，蜀、羌、髳、微、盧、彭、濮人。稱爾戈，比爾干，立爾矛，予其誓。」 He, the king, said, “Sigh, my friendly countries’ great rulers, managers of matters, ministers of the multitudes, the cavalry, and public works, their rank and file [soldiers], the Palace Master, leaders of thousands and of hundreds, men of Yong, Shu, Qiang, Mao, Wei, Lu, Peng, and Pu:214 lift your dagger-axes, join your shields, Yegor Grebnev offers a systematic classification of speech-based shu texts according to the formal characteristics of their contextualising element(s); Mu Shi is classified as a “dramatic speech.” “The Case of Texts with Speeches,” 266. 211 This date is corroborated in epigraphic evidence. The Li gui 利簋 bronze vessel, which dates to the reign of King Wu, begins its account of the conquest, “King Wu attacked Shang; it was the morning of the jiazi day” (“珷征商隹 [唯] 甲子朝.” Institute of Archaeology, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, Yin Zhou jinwen jicheng shiwen 殷周金文集成釋文 vol. 3 [Hong Kong: Hong Kong Chinese Culture University Press, 2001], 287.) 212 The historical Shang settlement was called Yin 殷. The site of the Yin ruins (Yinxu 殷墟) is located near the modern-day city of Anyang 安陽 in Henan 河南 province. The site of the Mu hinterlands is located at the modern-day Muye 牧野 district near the city of Xinxiang 新鄉, Henan. 213 With thanks to Yegor Grebnev for his suggestions on how to improve these translations. Compare with Martin Kern’s translation in “The ‘Harangues’,” 298–9. 214 Gu Jiegang understands these as references to geographical tribes; see “Mu Shi ba guo” 牧誓八國 in Shilin zashi chubian 史林雜識初編, 26–33 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1963). In light of newer evidence, I am more convinced of Yang Hua’s hypothesis that the eight positions and “tribes” refer to 210 87 and erect your spears – I give a harangue.” 215 After setting the time and place, the narrative quickly zooms in on the figure of the king (wang 王). The king (Wu) is then described brandishing a yellow battle-axe and white mao banner. It is explicitly stated that he “[gives] a harangue,” brought forth by the direct speech marker yue 曰, and the narrative is set in direct speech thereafter. Wu begins this block of speech by greeting his addressees, “men of the Western lands.” Wu’s flow of speech is then briefly interrupted with the interpolation “He, the king, said,” after which, in further direct speech, he catalogues his addressees into eight different tribe-groups and ranks. 216 These comprehensive catalogues validate Wu as a ruler; a great number and variety of men have assembled to offer their loyalty to him. Then, Wu asks them to raise their arms – paralleling him brandishing his arms earlier on – as a gesture of their submission to his authority. Wu then affirms that he is making a harangue (“I give a harangue”). It is interesting to note the moderation of pace throughout this section. All elements in the catalogue of official positions are disyllabic, which quickens in the catalogue of tribe groups, in which all elements are monosyllabic. The pace then slows in the following lines, which comprise of four trisyllabic blocks. The concluding trisyllabic phrase in this block “予其誓” (“I give a harangue”) breaks away from the sentence pattern of the first three phrases, “[verb] 爾[object]” (“[verb] your [object]”). This brings the section to a firm close with a poetical juncture that corresponds to the completion of Wu’s introductory speech. This moderation of pace suggests the speaker’s character, portraying him as charismatic and measured. an eight-by-eight formation adopted by performers in ritual enactments of the speech event; see “Shangshu Mu Shi xinkao,” 5. 215 Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 282–6. A version of the Mu Shi text also appears in the Shiji “Zhou benji” 周本紀 (“Zhou Basic Annals”). 216 As Kern suggests, it is possible that this frame was grafted onto the harangue-proper at a later date (“The ‘Harangues’,” 299), and the re-entry into the flow of speech here perhaps remains as a relic of the splice. 88 Several important points emerge from a close reading of this contextualising frame. First, Wu is referred to as “king” (wang) three times; second, Wu is described brandishing a yellow battle-axe. As pointed out by Liu Qiyu, Martin Kern, and Yang Hua 楊華, it is well attested that a yellow battle-axe (huang yue 黃鉞) is not a combat weapon but rather a decorative emblem.217 More to this, it is the insignia of the regent (in fact, this item comes to be symbolically associated with King Wu of Zhou in later literary convention), 218 and Wu brandishes it with enough victorious charisma to have prompted James Legge’s observation that “[t]here is more of the martial spirit in [Mu Shi] than in any other of the speeches of the Shoo.”219 The steady pace of Wu’s speech, noted above, also portrays him with the charisma and control of a king. In sum, in this contextualising frame that precedes the harangue proper, Wu is presented as a charismatic, authoritative king who has already usurped the Shang to found the Zhou dynasty.220 “Mu Shi shi yi pian,” 169; “The ‘Harangues’,” 299–300; “Shangshu Mu Shi xinkao,” 4–5. Legge gives a supplemented translation of huang 黃 as “yellow with gold”, further suggesting a decorative object (Shoo King, 300.) Liu and Yang explain the yellow battle axe and white mao banner as references to props used by a performer portraying Wu. 218 Kern, “The ‘Harangues’,” 300. 219 Shoo King, 300. 220 Kern notes the same of the Tang Shi, where the “future king […] still speaks as a rebel.” (“The ‘Harangues’,” 295.) 217 89 Part Two: The harangue In this second part, I analyse the second half of the text, the harangue proper. 王曰：「古人有言曰：『牝雞無晨；牝雞之晨，惟家之索。』 The king said, “The ancients had a saying, which said ‘There should be no hen-call in the morning. A hen-call in the morning means that the house will be desolated.’ 221 今商王受惟婦言是用，昏棄厥肆祀弗答，昏棄厥遺王父母弟不迪。乃惟四方之多罪逋逃，是崇是長，是信是使，是以為大夫卿士。俾暴虐于百姓，以奸宄于商邑。 “Now, it’s only his wife’s words that Shou,222 King of Shang, obeys. He destroys223 and discards the sacrifices that he has set forth and would not show gratitude [for favours received through sacrifice]. 224 He destroys and discards his remaining uncles and brothers225 and does not promote them.226 So, it is only the realm’s fugitives, with their many crimes, whom he esteems and considers senior, whom he trusts and appoints, whom he takes as grand masters, ministers, and servicemen, making them tyrannise the nobility, in order to commit villainy in the city of Shang. Karlgren understands “惟家之索” as “the house [should be] ransacked [for inauspicious influences]” (Glosses, 228–9, Gl. 1513.) 222 Shou 受 is King Zhou’s given name. Jin Jiuhong explains this and the preceding line in the context of the changing roles of woman from the early Shang to the Zhou; see “Shangshu Mu Shi yu Yin Zhou lishi,” 30–1. 223 Hun 昏 is a substitution for min 泯 (destroy). 224 Jin explains this line in the context of the changing relationship between the king and divinities from the early to late Shang. “Shangshu Mu Shi yu Yin Zhou lishi,” 31. 225 Legge and Kern understand “王父母弟” as “paternal and maternal” relatives (Shoo King, 303; “The ‘Harangues’,” 298.) 226 Jin explains this line in the context of the changing relationship between the king and clan groups. During the early Shang, the king was answerable to noble clans, but came to have a monopoly over power by the later Shang. “Shangshu Mu Shi yu Yin Zhou lishi,” 32–3. 221 90 今予發惟恭行天之罰。 “Now, I, Fa,227 furnish and execute heaven’s punishment.228 日之事，不愆于六步、七步，乃止齊焉。勖哉夫子！不愆于四伐、五伐、六伐、七伐，乃止齊焉。勖哉夫子！尚桓桓如虎、如貔、如熊、如羆，于商郊弗迓克奔，以役西土，勖哉夫子！ “In this day’s task, do not exceed six or seven paces before stopping and adjusting [yourselves]. Exert yourselves, good men! 229 Do not exceed four, five, six, or seven blows before stopping and adjusting [yourselves].230 Exert yourselves, good men! May you show martial prowess, as tigers, as leopards, as black bears, as brown bears. [Here] in the outlands of Shang, do not stop and crush those who flee [from the enemy side], in order that they can serve in [our] western lands. Exert yourselves, good men! 爾所弗勖，其于爾躬有戮！」231 “If you do not exert yourselves thus, then death will be brought upon you!” I divide the harangue proper into five argumentative components: after (1) invoking the wisdom of antiquity, Wu (2) levies criticisms of King Zhou’s behaviour, (3) states that he will “execute heaven’s punishment” (referring to the imminent conquest), and (4) briefs the assembled on expectations of conduct. He (5) concludes by warning that those failing to heed him will perish: Fa 發 is King Wu’s given name. Legge, Qu, and Kern translate gong 恭 as an adverb, “reverently” or “respectfully” (Shoo King, 304; Jinzhu jinyi, 73; “The ‘Harangues’,” 299.) I translate the full (related) verbal meaning of gong, following Karlgren (Glosses, 170, Gl. 1401, referring to Gan Shi, “今予惟恭行天之罰.”) 229 In Jinzhu jinyi, 71, Qu notes that fu zi 夫子 perhaps indicates the interposition of Warring States editors, though he omits this remark in the later Jishi, 59. Jiang Shanguo similarly isolates fu zi as an element that obfuscates a clear dating of the text (Zongshu, 227.) 230 As scholars are increasingly convinced of Mu Shi’s previous life as a multimedia ritual performance, these lines have been interpreted by some as choreographing dance steps. Li Jidong 李吉東 diverges from Liu Qiyu, Yang Hua, and others to propose a reading of fa 伐 in this stanza as “condemn” (shengtao 聲討). “Shangshu Mu Shi shishi jie” 《尚書·牧誓》誓師解, Qi Lu xuekan 齊魯學刊 (Qi Lu Journal) 204.3 (2008): 45–8. 231 Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 286–90. 227 228 91 1. Axiomatic wisdom The king said, “The ancients had a saying, which said ‘There should be no hen-call in the morning. A hen-call in the morning means that the house will be desolated.’ 2. Zhou’s behaviours “Now, it’s only his wife’s words that Shou, the King of Shang, obeys. He destroys and discards the sacrifices that he has set forth and would not show gratitude [for favours received through sacrifice]. He destroys and discards his remaining uncles and brothers and does not promote them. So, it is only the realm’s fugitives, with their many crimes, whom he esteems and considers senior, whom he trusts and appoints, whom he takes as grand masters, ministers, and servicemen, making them tyrannise the nobility, in order to commit villainy in the city of Shang. 3. Vow to punish the Shang “Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment. 4. Expectations of conduct during battle “In this day’s task, do not exceed six or seven paces before stopping and adjusting [yourselves]. Exert yourselves, good men! Do not exceed four, five, six, or seven blows before stopping and adjusting [yourselves]. Exert yourselves, good men! May you show martial prowess, as tigers, as leopards, as black bears, as brown bears. [Here] in the outlands of Shang, do not stop and crush those who flee [from the enemy side], in order that they can serve in [our] western lands. Exert yourselves, good men! 5. Warning If you do not exert yourselves thus, then death will be brought upon you!” The first component (1) invokes an axiom stating that “[a] hen-call in the morning” foretells of impending doom, referring to the imminent fall of the Shang. The contrast between gu 古 (“ancient”) and jin 今 (“now”, opening the following component) highlights the age and authority of this wisdom. The next component (2), predicated upon the first, levies four criticisms against Zhou, king of Shang, cataloguing misdemeanours in his interpersonal relationships.232 Specifically: Zhou bends to the influence of his consort; he neglects his duties to the ancestors; he terrorises his male relatives; his ministerial roster is populated with criminals who terrorise the state. The even number of these exemplary elements (four) and For a study of cataloguing as a characteristic formal feature of early shu speech texts, see Grebnev, “The Case of Texts with Speeches.” 232 92 their diversity in type (consort, ancestors, living male relatives, and ministers) constitutes a suitably comprehensive catalogue. In the next component (3), Wu builds on the censures of the previous component to assert that he will deliver “heaven’s punishment” to Zhou. The two components that follow (4, 5) enumerate points of discipline and conduct for Wu’s addressees to observe in battle. The fourth component (4) comprises of four specific admonitions, and the first, second, and fourth lines in this component conclude with the phrase “勖哉夫子” (“Exert yourselves, good men!”). This repetition indicates the unity of the four lines as a single argumentative component, and a further repetition of xu 勖 again in the fifth component ties these two final components together. The fifth and final component (5) is a single warning, threatening those who fail to conduct themselves as specified in the previous (fourth) component. The relationship between these five components, and the form of the argument that they build, can be understood as a progression. Each component predicates its successor, culminating in a final injunction, which is supported by a threat. This pattern of progression from one component to the next is supported with the use of jin at the beginning of each (“Now”; “This [day’s]…”).233 The final component, which is not opened with jin, breaks the pattern, marking the harangue’s conclusion. Kern also notes the dual role of jin here, marking not only chronology but also the development of propositions (“The ‘Harangues’,” 291–2.) 233 93 Axiomatic wisdom Zhou’s behaviours 今 Vow to punish the Shang 今 Expectations of conduct 今 Warning Fig. 1“Progressive step” argument form Figure 1 above visualises this “progressive-step” analysis of the argumentative form of the harangue. I observe a unity of argument form and argument content here. This unidirectional flow-chart, wherein each component leads to the next component, and only to the next component, manifests the teleological mechanism “heaven’s punishment.” According to Wu’s harangue, his imminent assault on the Shang is not a contingent event, nor is it one of many possible events. At no point has Wu originated or manufactured the events in this sequence. Rather, the assault is compelled by heaven, the natural, inevitable consequence of Zhou’s prior actions within a predictable, patterned world. In fact, so precise and predictable is the teleological flow of heaven’s will that people in antiquity were able to discern “portent-consequence” patterns, like that codified in the adage in the first component. The progressive-step analysis of the form of Wu’s argument is a visual mimesis of this inevitable, teleological flow. The relationship between the five argumentative components can be understood in another way, eliding to a different argument form. Consider that, in terms of the number of separate elucidatory points that appear within each component, there is a 1-4-1-4-1 pattern. 94 1 – The king said, “The ancients had a saying, which said ‘There should be no hen-call in the morning. A hen-call in the morning means that the house will be desolated.’ 1 – “Now, it’s only his wife’s words that Shou, the King of Shang, obeys. 2 – “He destroys and discards the sacrifices that he has set forth and would not show gratitude [for favours received through sacrifice]. 3 – “He destroys and discards his remaining uncles and brothers and does not promote them. 4 – “So, it is only the realm’s fugitives, with their many crimes, whom he esteems and considers senior, whom he trusts and appoints, whom he takes as grand masters, ministers, and servicemen, making them tyrannise the nobility, in order to commit villainy in the city of Shang. 1 – “Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment. 1 – “In this day’s task, do not exceed six or seven paces before stopping and adjusting [yourselves]. Exert yourselves, good men! 2 – “Do not exceed four, five, six, or seven blows before stopping and adjusting [yourselves]. Exert yourselves, good men! 3 – “May you show martial prowess, as tigers, as leopards, as black bears, as brown bears. 4 – “[Here] in the outlands of Shang, do not stop and crush those who flee [from the enemy side], in order that they can serve in [our] western lands. Exert yourselves, good men! 1 – “If you do not exert yourselves thus, then death will be brought upon you!” The argument form can accordingly be understood as a central axis supported by two balanced, mirroring “wings” (see figure 2 below.) The central axis in the argument is the third component, where Wu states that he will deliver heaven's punishment. Not only is this component central sequentially, but it is also the chronological apex, stating the ultimate aim of the day’s exercise. Moreover, it is in this component that Wu explicitly utters a commitment to defeat Zhou, and so forms the harangue’s performative core. 95 Vow to punish the Shang (1) Zhou’s behaviours (4) Expectations of conduct (4) Axiomatic wisdom (1) Warning (1) Explanation Enforcement Fig. 2 “Mirroring wings” argument form The first “wing” is formed of the first and second components of the harangue, and to the other side, the penultimate and final components form a second wing. These two wings support the central axis in distinct and complementary ways. The first wing explains the necessity and, indeed, inevitability of the assault on the Shang. The second wing enforces the successful realisation of this mission; executing heaven’s punishment requires the cooperation of the addressees, who are charged to conduct themselves in the ways described. The complementary nature of the two wings is reflected in and reinforced by their balanced, symmetrical construction: the first wing is made up of one element plus four elements, while the second wing is made up of four elements plus one. This analysis of the argument form also constitutes a mimesis of the harangue content. According to the harangue, events in the world are not always chaotic, unprecedented, or arbitrary, but are rather predictable and equitable responses to prior events, decreed by heaven. Wu’s heaven-decreed assault on the Shang checks Zhou’s imposition of his own will upon the stream of history, restoring stability and order. Moreover, these heaven-decreed consequences may be delivered remotely or by proxy, as in the case of Wu, who has been 96 appointed to “furnish and execute” an assault determined through the unseen machinations of heaven. Overall, Wu’s harangue portrays a predictably self-stabilising world.234 The above argument form, manifesting a high degree of balance and symmetry, is a mimesis of this. These two possible formal interpretations of the harangue highlight two different aspects of its content: a vision of a predictable and patterned world. While it seems instinctive to affirm that this formal mimesis of content enhances the elucidation of the latter, the impact of form-content resemblance may be more closely specified through an enquiry into the fundamental relationship between these two categories of text construction. In Philosophy on Bamboo: Text and the Production of Meaning in Early China, Dirk Meyer demonstrates that form and content are an argumentative unity in the cases of many early Chinese texts, arguing that such texts cannot be understood without suspending the traditional analytical separation of these two categories. Literary Forms of Argument in Early China, edited by Meyer and Joachim Gentz, expands on this thesis. The method employed to reveal form-content unity in Philosophy on Bamboo and Literary Forms is to demonstrate across multiple case studies that argumentative meaning is gleaned by witnessing the formal edifice in which the “content” consists. In other words, Meyer, Gentz et al. illuminate the content of the form. To contrast with this, consider the following statement by Douglas Hofstadter: Compare with Henri Maspero’s view of the shu texts’ nascent political philosophy: “the kings are always responsible before the Thearch-on-high, who punishes them with the loss of the [heavenly] mandate if he is displeased with them. There is no arbitrariness in how heaven acts, no predestination; it is the conduct of the kings that, at every moment, decides this” (“les rois sont toujours responsables devant le Seigneur d’En-Haut, qui les châtie par la perte du mandat [céleste] s’il est mécontent d’eux; il n’y a d’ailleurs aucun arbitraire dans la manière d’agir du Ciel, aucune prédestination; c’est la conduite des rois qui, à chaque instant, le decide,” La Chine Antique, 228.) 234 97 “Form blurs into content as processing depth increases. Or, as I have always liked to say, ‘Content is just fancy form.’ By this I mean, of course, that ‘content’ is just a shorthand way of saying ‘form as perceived by a very fancy apparatus capable of making complex and subtle distinctions and abstractions and connections to prior concepts.’”235 Arguing from the angle of cognition, intelligence, and information processing, Hofstadter inverts Meyer, Gentz et al.’s method, illuminating the form of the content. What is traditionally called “content” refers to the synthesis, extrapolation, integration, and rarefying of forms. Consider that computer program written to extract content from a linguistic or any other kind of semiotic edifice would begin by discerning basic forms, such as individual sentences, then words, then verbs, nouns, and so forth. The program would proceed to construct increasingly complex relationships and perform increasingly fine, multi-level distinctions between these formal elements, eventually emerging at a highly complex informational structure consisting precisely in these relationships and distinctions – which we would call “content.”236 In unmasking the formal nature of content, Hofstadter collapses the distinction between these categories in ontological terms. Both categories comprise of the same informational substance. The source of the distinction between them lies in a disparity between the perspective-levels from which one might look out onto the continuous, multiple-stage processing operation linking the two. The departure-point of this operation, which we would call “pure form,” refers to an encounter with a semiotic edifice on a lower, less-complex level of processing, whereas the final product of this process, “pure content” (if present) refers to an encounter with the same edifice at a higher processing level, reconstructing complex relationships between forms. In other words, the form/content distinction amounts to a 235 22. 236 Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern (London: Penguin, 1993), These ideas emerged in conversation with computer scientist Susan Smith, 4 th Nov. 2016. 98 question of complexity, processing depth (recalling Hofstadter), or intelligence. However one refers to this complexity, it is nonetheless a continuous variable, and Hofstadter is quite correct to say that “the boundary line between form and content is as blurry as that between blue and green, or between human and ape.”237 This continuity between form and content accounts for the exceptional rhetorical nature of constructions such as Wu’s harangue and the case studies in Literary Forms, which, as discussed, demonstrate meaningful similarity of form and content. The form/content correspondences in these cases refer to the simultaneous double transmission of the same piece of information within a single semiotic edifice, at two different processing levels. The image that emerges when this edifice is processed at shallow, un-complex level – “pure form” – is equivalent to the image that emerges when this edifice processed at a deeper, complex level, unpacking the relationships between the initially simple forms – “pure content.” In other words, the departure-point and the end-point of this continuous process look like one another. The “progressive step” analysis of the harangue’s argumentative form, illustrated on page 94, visually describes the teleological flow of heavenly will that propels Wu to deliver an inevitable punishment to the Shang. The symmetrical analysis of the argument form, illustrated on page 96, manifests the inherent equity and balance of the world, which will eliminate King Zhou’s excesses. Both these analyses of the argumentative form of Wu’s harangue simply reflect a clever replication of the same message in the same text, on two different processing levels; the text looks the same when subject to both deeper and shallow processing. In conclusion, I argue that Wu’s harangue develops its vision of a patterned, predictable world by exploiting the possibility for multi-levelled meaning constructions within a single 237 Themas, 22. 99 semiotic edifice, redoubling and reinforcing its message on both the form and content levels. According George Lakoff and Mark Johnson’s analysis in Metaphors We Live By, these structural resemblances are not innovations on the rhetorical surface-layer of a text, but in fact originate in the deep tissue of conceptual reasoning, where they shape basic and abstract thought.238 These resemblances are more than literary ornamentation; they reflect – and directly appeal to – the fundamentally relational, metaphorical nature of thought. Therefore, the construction of Wu’s harangue makes a beautiful, compelling appeal to the fundamentally metaphorical nature of conceptual reasoning to consolidate its vision of a world where Wu’s insurgence is the natural, inevitable consequence of Zhou’s prior actions. 238 Revised edition (Chicago; London: University of Chicago Press, 2003). 100 Part Three: The performative vow The statement at the heart of Wu’s harangue “Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment” appears to be a performative utterance. Specifically, this appears to be a vow in which Wu commits to defeat the Shang. 239 In a short paper “Response: Performative Reflections on Love and Commitment,” Judith Butler addresses the question, whence a commitment? Under what circumstances is commitment-type speech effective? At the forefront of her response are the notions of the unknowable and the unexpected. “If I commit myself to someone, I seek to stand for my future (Nietzsche made this point about promises in On the Genealogy of Morals). But if my future is precisely what cannot be fully known, I am not really able to commit myself knowingly. So if I commit myself under circumstances that cannot be predicted, that means that I commit myself in the face of the unknowable. I agree to remain committed to some ‘you’ or to some ideal regardless of whatever circumstances intervene.” 240 The performative commitment is predicated by an unknowable and uncertain future. The utterance “I will always love you” has no constitutive performative power unless I and/or my loved one anticipate the possibility of a future that challenges my ability and/or my willingness to love. In other words, if the future were absolutely assured, then no commitment would be required. Among the possible outcomes encompassed in the essentially unknowable future is the J. L. Austin introduced the explicit concept of performative speech in How To Do Things with Words (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962). John Searle refined these ideas in Speech acts: An essay in the philosophy of language (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969). For an overview of the field, see Kira Hall, “Performativity,” Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 9.1–2 (2000): 184–7. For a study of performativity and early Chinese literature, see Kern, “Shi Jing Songs as Performance Texts: A Case Study of ‘Chu Ci’ (Thorny Caltrop),” Early China 25 (2000): 49–111. 240 Women’s Studies Quarterly 39.1/2 “SAFE” (Spring/Summer 2011): 236–9: 238. 239 101 possibility that the promise should fail entirely. This formulation of the performative promise is therefore a paradox. Indeed, Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) claims exactly this in the Second Essay in On The Genealogy of Morality, cited by Butler above.241 Butler, acknowledging the paradox, nonetheless proposes a work-around. She proposes that all promises can be understood as variations on the formula “I promise to make the same commitment anew when different conditions arise.” In other words, for the duration of its validity, the promise is structured as a series of future-presents in which one continually repromises. “I am not sure about how commitment works, except that one never commits oneself merely once. […] Commitment would be the agreement to commit oneself anew, time and again, precisely when circumstances change. And this would mean changing the concrete meaning of commitment as circumstances change. In other words, commitment would rely on the renewability of the vow, if commitment requires a vow. But it would also require an openness to changing oneself and one’s comportment depending on what new circumstances demand. Thus, commitment would not involve inflexibility, but would entail an agreement to make oneself anew in light of the unexpected demands that challenge one’s commitment. […] [I]f commitment is to be alive, that is, if it is to belong to the present, then the only commitment one can make is to commit oneself again and again.” 242 I argue that this formulation of the promise runs into the same paradox. If one truly were committed to committing the same anew whenever different conditions arose, then promises would not bring about any measurable change and therefore would have no performative effect. In standard form, the logic of Butler’s promise is as follows: I want to do what I want to do (and I don’t want to do what I don’t want to do.) “To breed an animal with the prerogative to promise – is that not precisely the paradoxical task which nature has set herself with regard to humankind?” “Second Essay: ‘Guilt’, ‘bad conscience’ and related matters,” in revised student edition, ed. Keith Ansell-Pearson, trans. Carol Diethe, 35–67 (Leiden: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 35. 242 “Response,” 238. 241 102 One meets a set of circumstances that are a variation on this essential form: I want to do X at a future date. There is the chance that, in the future, I will fail to/not want to do X. Therefore, a commitment is used: I commit to do X in the future even if (in the future) I will fail to/not want to do X. If I extend the scope of analysis into the future to reach the moment when the performative power of the commitment is discharged (or not), then there are three possible outcomes. 1. I want to do X and I do X. 2. I fail to do X (i.e. breaking the commitment). 3. I don’t want to do X, but I do X nevertheless (i.e. keeping the commitment). Although the first outcome is agreeable, the question of the performative power of the promise remains unresolved. The second outcome is ultimately in agreement with the original premise (“I don’t want to do what I don’t want to do”) and is therefore agreeable. However, in this outcome, the promise has failed to enforce behaviour and is not performative as such. Only the third outcome represents a truly performative promise that has bound utterer and/or listener to action through its utterance. However, this outcome is also in flagrant disagreement with the premise of the entire line of reasoning, “I want to do what I want to do.” It appears, then, that a successful promise is at odds with its premise. I want to do what I want to do (and I don’t want to do what I don’t want to do). I want to do X at a future date. There is the chance that, in the future, I will fail to/not want to do X. I commit to do X in the future even if (in the future) I will fail to/not want to do X. 103 I don’t want to do X but I do X nevertheless (per the commitment.) I do what I don’t want to do. As this analysis shows, the source of the tension or “paradox” is the fact that the value “what I want to do” varies over time, between (1) the moment at which a desire to act is conceived and (2) the moment in which this act may be realised. The promise is most fundamentally understood as an ersatz strategy to address this contingency. Individuals live by stepping forwards in time, passing through different, changing conditions, seeking to maintain as constants across this passage those conditions that appear at any one moment as possible and fortuitous, while possibility and fortuity themselves are, just like all other conditions, subject to change. One’s desires and external situation, and hence one’s volition and ability to act, change over time. The promise is an act ensuring that present desires are consummated at a future moment even as those very desires (and their relationship to their contextual situation) change, and it is only in doing so that the performative power of the promise is borne out. In conclusion, the performative promise is always predicated upon an unknowable, futuredirected temporal gap that, paradoxically, encompasses the threat of the promise’s dissolution, the failure against which it insures.243 This elides to Jacques Derrida’s remarks in “Signature, Event, Context,” where he argues that any performative speech act necessarily requires the possibility of failure (“risk”), “the very force and law of its emergence.” Limited, Inc., 1–23 (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1988), 17. 243 104 Conclusion As explored in Part Two, Wu’s harangue describes the world as a place where heaven decrees consequences for certain actions, and these consequences are knowable through portents. This description of the world is redoubled on both form and content processing levels of Wu’s harangue, in a sophisticated appeal to metaphorical reasoning. In this patterned, predictable world, the future is as knowable, and therefore as fixable, as the past. This equivalence between past and future is embodied on the narrative level, in the looping temporality of Mu Shi: as explained in Part One, Wu already appears as the victorious usurper of the Shang before the harangue – and therefore the battle – has even taken place. In this context, the statement at the heart of Wu’s harangue (“Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment”) cannot be a vow. As shown in the analysis in part Three, vows, as with all forms of performative speech, are (paradoxically) predicated upon the uncertainty of their own success. Were “Now, I, Fa, …” a vow, then it would necessarily encode an expanse of unknown, unarrived conditions – including, most crucially, its failure – that could not be resolved in the moment of utterance. But in the context of the complete Mu Shi, where Wu’s future success is as iron-cast as the past, this statement does the precise opposite. “Now, I, Fa, …” is a statement of acquiescence to what is forgone. Inverting the paradoxical yet performative “stand[ing] for one’s future” in the face of the unknown, as circumscribed by Butler’s reformulation of Nietzsche, Wu simply stands. Per this analysis, Wu fails to be open to the unknown. However, openness to the unknown in the sense of Edmund Husserl’s (1859–1938) notion of Urdoxa (trust or faith in the world) is an inalienable condition of being, not only with regards to future being but even in 105 reference to immediate being in the present. As Nicolas de Warren explains, there is no such thing as being outside of the “encompassing” or “facilitating” context of a world that is always already present: “In the technical sense of the term, the presentness of the world is pre-given, or given in advance of the synthetic distinction between activity and receptivity. […] The world’s presentness is in this sense an original acquisition (Urerwerb) from which we have already begun with an orientation towards possible encounters, or missed encounters, with the world. […] …and this already-present world is, by its very nature, unknown: “In his writings, Husserl characterized the anchoring dimension of the life-world as an original form of Vertrauheit [‘familiarity or closeness’] […] Husserl suggests that the distinction between the ‘the known’ and ‘the familiar,’ on the one hand, and ‘the unknown’ and ‘the unfamiliar,’ on the other, presupposes an original and pervading Vertrauheit that, despite its ‘indeterminate’ form, is nonetheless singular in its presentness.[3] As implied by Husserl’s expression ‘eine unbesimmt allgemeine Vertrauheit,’ to be in the world is to be in the presentness of unknown unknowns; what distinguishes the primordial presentness of the world is precisely that is (sic) an issue of trust, not knowledge. To face the world in the presentness of unknown unknowns in which differentiations between the familiar and the unfamiliar can be constituted and, most significantly, played out, is to find oneself from the beginning within a situation of trust. We are entrusted with the unknown in finding ourselves with the presentness of the world.” 244 In short, the fullness of an individual’s being in the world is, to an extent, a function of their openness to, and engagement with, the unknown. As argued by R. D. Laing (1927–1989), the most extreme withdrawal from the unknown-ness of the world simulates a kind of ontological “death.”245 In this way, Wu’s avoidance of the unknown, forgoing the “prerogative to promise” that Nietzsche notices to be so particular to human life, diminishes or atrophies his Nicolas de Warren, “Torture and Trust in the World. A Phenomenological Essay,” Phänomenologische Forschungen (2015): 83–99: 84–5. Emphasis my own. Note [3] refers to Husserl, Erfahrung und Urteil, (Hamburg: Meiner Verlag, 1993), 33. With thanks to the convenors and participants of the Phenomenological Psychopathology seminar at Christ Church College, Oxford for making this literature accessible to me. 245 “In the escape from the risk of being killed, [the self] becomes dead.” The Divided Self (London: Penguin, 1965), 142. See pages 39–61 for a discussion of ontological insecurity. 244 106 being as an individual.246 Wu opts for a future that is as known as the past. “Now, I, Fa, …” is a statement of acquiescence to what is forgone, and, as argued, this acquiescence to that which is safely predetermined diminishes Wu’s own being. It is through the payment of this personal ontological cost, however, that Wu buys the stability of the realm. By tying his projects to that which has “already” succeeded, he guarantees the safety of the people. I therefore argue that what Mu Shi does is model how ideal, effective leadership is something that comes on the condition of an absolute, self-effacing stoicism, “attach[ing] [oneself] only to what can thrive, or be safe from harm, however others act.”247 Wu quite literally gives himself – his being – for the realm, and this makes him strong as a leader, and the line “Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment” expresses this sacrifice. Nietzsche, “Second Essay,” 35. “… The starry heavens above and the moral law within had better be about the only things that matter to me, if there is no one I can trust in any way.” Annette Baier, “Trust and Antitrust,” Ethics 96.2 (Jan. 1986): 231–60: 231. 246 247 107 Chapter Four: Huainanzi I (“Tian Wen Xun” 天文訓 [“Patterns of Heaven”], “Di Xing Xun” 墬形訓 [“Forms of Terrain”], and “Lan Ming Xun” 覽冥訓 [“Perceiving the Obscure”]) In this chapter, I give an interpretation of the complete Huainanzi, with a focus on chapter Three, “Tian Wen Xun”, Four, “Di Xing Xun”, and Six, “Lan Ming Xun”. As noted in chapter Two of this project, the complete Huainanzi professes to stands as the exhaustive representation of all phenomenal reality since the inauguration of cosmic time. 248 To this end, as I will argue, the text’s diverse chapters are given to the formulation of a discrete, but highly integrated, artifact: an all-encompassing schema of the cosmos as an infinitely interconnected fractal shape that, moreover, has the capacity to “observe” its own fractality. The analysis in this chapter is structured in the three parts. In part One, I read “Lan Ming Xun”.249 “Lan Ming Xun”, briefly surmised, documents correlations in the behaviours of separate entities or “forms” (xing 形).250 These correlated behaviours suggest that forms are able to affect one another remotely, without any apparent transaction of physical force. “Lan Ming Xun” refers to this mysterious entanglement using the terms gan 感 (“affecting”) and ying 應 (“responding”); scholars since have termed it “resonance” (ganying 感應). Moreover, Refer to the discussion in the Huainanzi bibliographical chapter. In addition to Le Blanc’s 1985 study and translation Philosophical Synthesis, in the course of this chapter I also refer to Major’s c. 1993 study and translation of “Tian Wen Xun” and “Di Xing Xun” in Heaven and earth; Major et al.’s partial translation Essential Huainanzi; and Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2. It is beyond the scope of the present study to offer an exhaustive treatment of all philological issues in the chapter, and I recommend that readers additionally consult studies mentioned here and in the notes for the exegetical discussion of more obscure content. 250 I also translate wu 物 as “forms”. This is because according to my interpretation of Huainanzi’s metaphysics, wu and xing refer to the same phenomenon (which is the coalescing of qi 氣 [vital breath, energy-matter].) 248 249 108 there are two tiers of resonance. Given “Lan Ming Xun’s” prohibitive size, I focus the reading on a selection of representative passages. Next, in part Two, I read a series of passages from chapters “Tian Wen Xun” and “Di Xing Xun”. On the basis of these readings, I posit that the complete Huainanzi manifests a schema of the world as an infinitely inter-connected fractal shape. 251 (For the purposes of the present chapter, this refers to a shape exhibiting the same structural rule in all parts and at all divisions, such that any part or division represents a structural copy of the whole.) Finally, in part three, I test and refine my tentative interpretation of Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema by seeing how it accounts for the specific physical principle of resonance. Correctly sublimated in this schema, the fundamental mechanisms and processes underpinning “Lan Ming Xun’s” resonance phenomenon become manifest: when occurring at its fullest extent, this phenomenon refers to a part – the conscious individual – interacting with the whole, which, in the context of a fractal system, refers to the whole interacting with itself. In other words, resonance refers to an infinitely-connected world interacting with itself. Inasmuch as the interpretation of Huainanzi’s cosmology developed in part Two is geometrical, and specifically fractal, I argue that the text itself is also geometrical, building its ideas not through a linear process, but through (sometimes repetitive) accretion across twenty-one chapters that together stand as a structural microcosm of the whole. The present chapter, as a close interpretation of this text and its schema, reflects these geometrical attributes in its own structure. The account of resonance that it develops does not unfold as a traditional linear argument, but as a diagram, the various elements of which are intermittently filled in across parts One, Two, and Three. I ask the reader to bear with this process, the dividends of which may only be fully obvious towards the end of the final part. Consider Anna Marmodoro’s metaphysically-sophisticated treatment of an equivalent “fractal” ancient cosmology in Everything in Everything: Anaxagoras's Metaphysics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017). 251 109 Part One: The basic types of resonance This part of the chapter develops a basic description of resonance, with reference to various extracts from “Lan Ming Xun”. “Lan Ming Xun’s” resonance thesis was explored by Charles Le Blanc in a 1985 monograph Huai-Nan Tzu 淮南子: Philosophical Synthesis in Early Han Thought: The Idea of Resonance (Kan-Ying 感應) With a Translation and Analysis of Chapter Six. The exposition in Philosophical Synthesis is the richest on the subject to date. According to its analysis, resonance falls into two categories. On the one hand, there are remote interactions between forms belonging to the same sort (lei 類), which Le Blanc terms “relative resonance”; more rarely, there are also remote interactions between forms of any and all sort, which he terms “total resonance”. The following extract, which opens an arc that Le Blanc describes as “the most important passage of Chapter Six,”252 documents several instances of resonance, with separate forms appearing to affect one another at a distance. 253 夫物類之相應，玄妙深微，知不能論，辯不能解。故東風至而酒湛溢，蠶咡絲而商弦絕；或感之也。畫隨灰而月運闕，鯨魚死而彗星出；或動之也。故聖人在位，懷道而不言，澤及萬民。君臣乖心，則背譎見於天； Philosophical Synthesis, 139. The earliest known thesis of resonance (gan and ying) is elaborated in the Liji chapter “Yueling” 月令 (“Monthly Directives”). See Sun, Liji jijie, 399–505. John B. Henderson defines this basic “cosmic” or “cosmological” resonance as a phenomenon whereby “things of the same category but in different cosmic realms were supposed to affect one another by virtue of a mutual sympathy, to resonate like properly attuned pitchpipes.” The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984), 20. 252 253 110 神氣相應徵矣。故山雲草莽，水雲魚鱗，旱雲煙火，涔雲波水；各象其形類，所以感之。 254 As a principle, the mutual resonance of things in their sorts is profoundly fine and deeply subtle. Knowledge cannot infer it, and disputation cannot unravel it. Thus, the east wind arrives and wine turns clear and overflows; 255 the silkworm spits out silk and the shang string [on a lute] severs.256 Something affects them. An ellipsis257 is drawn in ash and the moon’s halo is depleted; 258 a whale dies and comets appear. Something stirs them. Thus, if a sage occupies the throne, cherishes Dao and does not speak, then his He, Jishi, 450–3. As commentator Gao You explains, there are plentiful yields of clear wine at the time of year when the east wind arrives: “The east wind is the wind of wood. ‘Wine [that] turns clear’ is qingjiu (clear wine). Rice sediment goes to the bottom, turning [it] clear, thus one says, ‘[it] turns clear.’ The taste of wood is sour; sour wind enters the wine, and thus, when the wine is expressed, [a liquid that] has turned clear gushes forth, overflowing.” (“東風，木風也。酒湛，清酒也。米物下湛，故曰湛。木味酸，酸風入酒，故酒酢而湛者沸溢。” Ibid., 450.) 256 While Gao gives two possible explanations for this phenomenon, it suffices to say that the shang string on the lute, being the thinnest, most resembles a fibre of freshly-exuded silk: “The old silkworm [sends] silk up and down from its mouth, thus one says that it ‘spits out silk.’ The newlyissued silk is fragile; the shang [string] is the slightest among the five notes. Therefore, [the shang string] becomes agitated and severs. Er 咡 (spit out) is sometimes rendered er 珥 (earring); when a silkworm is old, the silk in its body is visibly perfectly yellow from the outside, [and it looks] like an earring. The shang [note] is the metal note of the Western direction; the silkworm is noon fire; when fire is strong, metal is trapped, simply causing the shang [string] to respond. Sometimes, there are cases of the new and the former affecting one another.” (“老蠶上下絲於口，故曰咡絲。新絲出，故絲脆，商於五音最細而急，故絕也。「咡」或作「珥」。蠺老時，絲在身中正黃達見于外, 如珥也。商，西方金音也，蠺，午火也，火壯金困，應商而已。或有新故相感者也。” Ibid., 451.) 257 Reading sui 隨 as tuo 椭 (ellipsis). 258 Yun 運 (proceed, move) here should be understood as “encircling”, referring to a halo around the moon, paralleling sui 隨 (ellipsis) in the previous clause. Gao explains, “Yun 運 [should be] read ‘encircle’ [in the sense] of linking up to encircle [something]. Yun 運 is jun 軍 (military); when there is to be a military exploit and [the troops] encircle and keep watch over each other, then the moon proceeds (yun 運) out.” (“運讀連圍之圍也。運者，軍也，將有軍事相圍守，則月運出也。” Ibid., 451.) Gao goes on to gloss yun 運 with yun 暈 (sun’s or moon’s halo). The reading of jun 軍 as “encircle” (wei 圍) is supported by the gloss in Xu Shen’s Shuowen Jiezi; see Ding Fubao 丁福保 and Xu Shen, Shuowen jiezi gulin 説文解字詁林 (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1928), 6442. Zhu Fangpu 朱芳圃 (1895–1973) supplies an etymological explanation for Xu’s wei 圍 gloss: “Jun 軍 is from che 車 (chariot) and bao 勹 (wrap around); [it is] an associative compound. In ancient [times], when [troops] paused during chariot battles, they would encircle their [camp] with their chariots.” (“字从車，从勹，會意。古者車戰，止則以車自圍。” Yin Zhou wenzi shicong 殷周文字釋叢 [Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962], 109.) 254 255 111 beneficence reaches the myriad people. If lords and ministers are antagonistic [in] their hearts, then back-to-back arcs [about the sun] are seen in heaven: 259 It is the sign of spirit qi mutually responding. Thus, mountain clouds are [like] grassy undergrowth; water clouds are [like] fish scales. Drought clouds are [like] smouldering flames; downpour clouds are [like] vacillating waters. Each resembles its form and sort, affecting [the other] in this way. The arrival of the east wind prompts wine to turn clear; silkworm silk affects the shang string on a lute; a drawing in ash affects the moon; distrust between lords and ministers causes discordant arcs to appear in the atmosphere, and so on. These mutually-resonating “forms” – to employ the passage’s terminology – share characteristics. Antagonistic feelings between lords and ministers are synaesthetically schematised as back-to-back shapes in the atmosphere; the moon and an ellipsis drawn in ash are both cold, grey, and dry and have a circular form. Where these shared characteristics are not immediately intuited by the modern reader, they are understood from early Chinese agrarian knowledge. The east wind comes at the same time of year as sediment settles in wine, turning it clear, and both events are moreover connected to “wood” among the five phases. Newly-exuded silkworm silk is as fragile and brittle as the shang string, the highest note on a lute. The passage explicitly affirms that there are characteristical relationships between these resonating forms, prefacing these instances as “the mutual resonance of things in their sorts,” where “sort” simply This unusual atmospheric phenomenon is referenced as beiju 倍僪 in Lüshi Chunqiu chapter “Mingli” 明理 (“Illuming Patterns”) and as beixue 背穴 in the Hanshu “Tianwen zhi” 天文志 (“Technical Monography on Astronomy”). See Chen Qiyou 陳奇猷, Lüshi Chunqiu jiaoshi 呂氏春秋校釋 (Shanghai: Xuelin chubanshe, 1984), 358; and Hanshu, 1273. In Exploring Ancient Skies: A Survey of Ancient and Cultural Astronomy, David H. Kelley and Eugene F. Milone explain the atmospheric cause of this phenomenon: “The presence of upper atmospheric ice crystals produces some interesting phenomena that are associated with the Sun or Moon. Halo phenomena are familiar sights at high latitudes. Among them are parhelia or sundogs, so called because they follow the Sun across the sky. If the crystals, found in high cirrus clouds, for example, are sufficiently widespread and randomly oriented, a complete circle can be seen around the Sun. […] Sometimes, convex and concave arcs may be seen adjoining or radiating from the parhelia circles, which depend on special orientations of the ice crystals.” Second edition (New York: Springer, 2011), 113. 259 112 designates the sharing of characteristics. 260 This is what Le Blanc refers to as relative resonance, where forms belonging to the same sort remotely affect one another. 261 The following extract is also circumscribed from within “Lan Ming Xun’s” “most important” arc, according to Le Blanc. This passage uses the allegory of a lute to describe total resonance, the second resonance phenomenon documented in Philosophical Synthesis.262 今夫調弦者，叩宮宮應，彈角角動，此同聲相和者也。夫有改調一弦，其於五音無所比，鼓之而二十五弦皆應，此未始異於聲，而音之君已形也。263 Now, when someone tuning his [lute] strings strikes the gong note, the gong note [on other lutes] responds; when he plucks the jue note, the jue note stirs [on other lutes]. This is because like sounds harmonise with one another. Someone changes the tuning of one string [such that] it does not match up to any of the five notes, and, upon hitting it, all twenty-five strings respond.264 This is because there was yet to be [any] differentiation between sounds, but that which is lord over [musical] notes had already been formed. In the first scenario, someone plucks a string on a lute with standard tuning, and this causes the same string on other lutes nearby to reverberate. In the second scenario, however, a string on the first lute is given a special tuning, and plucking this string causes all strings on other For discussions on lei as “class” in the context of Shijing poetics and Warring States philosophy respectively, see Pauline Yu, The Reading of imagery in the Chinese poetic tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987), 65, and Chad Hansen, Language and Logic in Ancient China (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1983), 110–8. For analysis of these discussions as part of a broader critique of attempts to make sense of “allegory” as “metonymy” in the contemporary theory of early Chinese poetics, see Saussy, The Problem of a Chinese Aesthetic, 23–32. 261 Philosophical Synthesis, 128. 262 Ibid. 263 He, Jishi, 464. The Zhuangzi chapter “Xu Wu Gui” 徐無鬼 (“Ghostless Xu”) describes an identical experiment with lutes. See Guo Qingfan 郭慶藩, Zhuangzi jishi 莊子集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1961), 839. Accounts of musical instruments resonating with one another also appear in the Chuci and Lüshi Chunqiu. 264 The five notes are gong 宫, shang 商, jue 角, zhi 徵, and yu 羽. 260 113 lutes to reverberate. This demonstrates a mechanical distinction between relative and total resonance. The five notes represent five sorts. The first scenario, where one string remotely affects other strings of the same note, represents relative resonance, while the second scenario, where one specially-tuned string remotely affects strings of all notes, illustrates the principle of total resonance: forms remotely stimulate one another regardless of sort. In addition to explaining the mechanics of total resonance, “Lan Ming Xun” also recounts two legendary performances of the phenomenon by a human agent. In each case, the agent remotely neutralises a patient form of an entirely separate sort (in these cases, a powerful force of nature.) 武王伐紂，渡于孟津，陽侯之波，逆流而擊，疾風晦冥，人馬不相見。於是武王左操黃鉞，右秉白旄，瞋目而撝之，曰：「余任天下，誰敢害吾意者！」於是，風濟而波罷。魯陽公與韓構難，戰酣日暮，援戈而撝之，日為之反三舍。 265 King Wu attacked Zhou and forded at the Meng ford. The Marquis of Yang’s waves reversed the flow and struck them.266 The brisk wind was gloomy and murky, [such that] the cavalry could not see one another. At this, King Wu grasped his yellow battle-axe in his left hand and gripped his white mao banner in his right. His eyes wide, he brandished these, saying, “I am charged with the realm; who dare harm my ambition?!” With this, the winds abated and the waves ceased. Enmity had bred between the Duke of Luyang and the Han, and the battle reached fever pitch as the sun was setting. [The Duke] took his halberd and brandished it, and the sun went back three stations for him.267 He, Jishi, 445–7. The Marquis of Yang is a wave spirit. According to Gao You, he was once the marquis of Lingyang 陵陽 and assumed spirit form upon drowning (Ibid., 445). He is mentioned elsewhere in the literature, including the Zhanguoce 戰國策 (Annals of the Warring States). See Liu Xiang, Zhanguoce (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1978), 980. 267 “Stations” (she 舍) refers to the lunar mansions (xiu 宿). See Joseph Needham, Science and civilisation in China, Vol. 3, Mathematics and the sciences of the heavens and the earth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959), 248, note e. 265 266 114 Much how a nonstandard lute tuning overturns the patterns of music, King Wu and the Duke of Luyang disrupt the processes of nature, mollifying raging winds and river-waters and reversing the sun’s passage across the sky. Relative and total resonance therefore appear to differ not only with respect to range, but also with respect to the metaphysical order of stimulation. Relative resonance appears to describe routine occurrences that pattern what one might call the “familiar natural order”, as seen in examples above. Total resonance, by contrast, appears to describe counter-intuitive subversions of this natural order. (I develop a more substantial definition of the “familiar natural order” in part Two.) The following passage demonstrates this difference in an analogy involving birds. By the reckoning of swallows and sparrows, the ability to fly quickly between the eaves of a barn represents a supreme achievement. Phoenixes, however, can travel vast distances in impossibly quick time, sojourning at otherworldly sites inaccessible to earthly beings, and venturing into liminal spaces at the fringes of reality. Witnessing the phoenixes’ super-natural transit, even moderately-sized birds – wild geese, swans, oriels, and cranes – are bewildered into submission, which is to say nothing of the little swallows and sparrows. 268 鳳凰之翔至德也，雷霆不作，風雨不興，川谷不澹，草木不搖，而燕雀佼之，以為不能與之爭於宇宙之間。還至其曾逝萬仞之上，翱翔四海之外，過昆侖之疏圃，飲砥柱之湍瀨，邅回蒙汜之渚，尚佯冀州之際，徑躡都廣，入日抑節，羽翼弱水，暮宿風穴。當此之時，鴻鵠鶬鸖莫不憚驚伏竄，注喙江裔，又況直燕雀之類乎！ 269 When the soaring of phoenixes is fully powerful, thunder and lightning do not strike; Wind and rain do not rise up; The river plains and vales do not deluge; The grasses and trees do not shake. Zhuangzi makes similar use of bird metaphors. Chapter “Xiaoyao you” 逍遙遊 (“Wandering in Unfettered Ease”) contrasts the gigantic Peng 鵬 bird to a cicada and a little turtledove, while “Qiushui” 秋水 (“Autumn Waters”) contrasts a yuanchu 鵷鶵 phoenix to a scavenging owl. See Guo, Zhuangzi, 2–11; 605–6. 269 He, Jishi, 469–72. 268 115 The swallows and sparrows teased them (the phoenixes), thinking them unable to compete with them between the eaves and ridge piece [of the roof]. Then [a moment] came when they (the phoenixes) passed again and again at a height of ten thousand fathoms, soared and circled beyond the four seas, passed through the wilderness gardens of the Kunluns, drank the rushing rapids of the Dizhu [mountain],270 wheeled back and forth over the islets of the Shrouded Mire, 271 and lingered at the border of Ji Province; [they] passed directly through Douguang, 272 went in [with] the sun where it breaks off [its course], [washed] their feathers and wings at the Weak Waters,273 and at dusk lodged in the Wind Cavern. 274 At that moment, there were none among the wild geese, swans, oriels, and cranes that were not startled, shrinking down in their nests and sticking their beaks in the banks of the rivers. Just how much more [was this the case for] such sorts [of birds] as swallows and sparrows! Also called Sanmen mountain 三門山, the Dizhu (“whetstone column”) mountain is located in the stream of the Yellow River near Sanmenxia 三門峡 in modern day Henan province. Yan Ying 晏嬰 (578–500 BC) mentions the mountain’s location in Yanzi chunqiu 晏子春秋, Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編 vol. 511 (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1939), 22. 271 Gao You glosses the Shrouded Mire (also spelled 濛汜) as “the place from which the sun emerges” (“日所出之地,” He, Jishi, 470.) However, “Tian Wen Xun” states that the sun “arrives into the Shrouded Valley, and this is called ‘decisive dusk’,” implying the contrary (“至於蒙谷, 是謂定昏。” Ibid., 236.) Other sources that refer to the Shrouded Mire as the site of the setting sun include the Chuci poem “Tian Wen” 天問 (“Heavenly Questions”) and Zhang Heng’s 張衡 (78–139) Xijing Fu 西京賦 (Rhapsody on the Western Metropolis). See Hong Xingzu 洪興祖, Chuci buzhu 楚辭補注 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983), 88; and Xiao Tong 蕭統, Wenxuan 文選 (Taipei: Yiwen yinshuguan, 1957), 31. 272 Douguang is a legendary site about which very little is known, as Gao’s thin gloss suggests (He, Jishi, 471). The Shanhaijing chapter “Hainei jing” 海内經 (“Classic of Areas Within the Seas”) states, “At the crevice of the Black Waters in the Southwest, there are the hinterlands of Douguang. Hou Ji is interred therein.” (“西南黑水之閒，有都廣之野，后稷葬焉。” Hao Yixing 郝懿行, Shanhaijing jianshu 山海經箋疏, Xuxiu siku quanshu 續修四庫全書 vol. 1264 [Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1995], 242–3.) 273 Wang Niansun 王念孫 (1744–1832) suggests that “羽翼弱水” (lit. “[their] feathers and wings at the Weak Waters” [sic]) should be read “濯羽弱水” (“wash [their] feathers in the Weak Waters”). See He, Jishi, 471. He cites the Shuowen jiezi entry huang 鳳 (phoenix), which the Huainanzi passage almost identically parallels: “The phoenix […] soars and circles beyond the four seas, passes the Kunluns, drinks [at] the Dizhu [mountain], washes its feathers in the Weak Waters, and in no case stays in the Wind Cavern.” (“鳳 […] 翺翔四海之外，過崐崘，飲砥柱，濯羽弱水，莫宿風穴。…” Ding and Xu, Gulin, 1585.) The Weak Waters are also mentioned in Yu Gong and the Shanhaijing chapters “Xishan jing” 西山經 (“Classic of the Western Mountains”) and “Dahuangxi jing” 大荒西經 (“Classic of the Western Great Wastes”). See Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 177; 186; and Hao, Jianshu, 149; 235. 274 Gao glosses “Wind Cavern” as “[where] the Cold Wind of the North comes out from the ground” (“北方寒風從地出也,” He, Jishi, 471.) 270 116 The phoenixes’ super-natural transit violates all apparent natural laws and is incomprehensible from a standpoint within the bounds of the familiar natural order, as evidenced in other birds’ bewilderment at the spectacle. This super-natural transit does not even represent the full extent of the phoenixes’ powers, which appear, from a standpoint within the familiar natural order, as perfect inactivity (“When the soaring of phoenixes is fully powerful, thunder and lightning do not strike; wind and rain do not rise up; the river plains and vales do not deluge; the grasses and trees do not shake …”) Overall, these phoenixes serve as an analogy for total resonance, whereby forms remotely resonate with one another regardless of sort. The familiar natural order does not proffer any epistemological frame against which to anticipate this phenomenon, which, from a standpoint within this natural order, appears to completely subvert its laws. Following Le Blanc’s distinction in Philosophical Synthesis, total resonance is contrasted with relative resonance, whereby forms belonging to the same sort remotely affect one another, in a routine occurrence that patterns the familiar natural order. This concludes the basic account of resonance and its two types. 117 Part Two: The Huainanzi world-schema In this second part of the chapter, I sketch out, in rough strokes, the broader arc of Huainanzi’s world-schema. I do so through in-depth analysis of excerpts from two further chapters, “Tian Wen Xun” and “Di Xing Xun”. “Tian Wen Xun”, the third Huainanzi chapter, addresses topics in astronomy, astrology, and meteorology, documenting patterns governing atmospheric and celestial phenomena. “Di Xing Xun”, the fourth chapter, is a cosmographical treatise, describing the configuration of various terrestrial (as well as mythical, semi-terrestrial) realms, documenting the biological, topographical, meteorological, and geological forms – both mundane and mythical – that populate these. I first produce a tentative reconstruction of the Huainanzi world-schema on the basis of metaphysical principles laid out in “Tian Wen Xun”. I then test this tentative schema against cosmographical evidence drawn from across “Di Xing Xun ”. Ultimately, I argue that Huainanzi’s world-schema may be represented as a fractal shape. It is through reference to this schema that I illuminate the fundamental principles underpinning resonance, which I do in part Three below. 118 “Tian Wen Xun” opens with a cosmogonic account explaining how the heavens and earth came to be formed.275 In the cosmos’ earliest moments, separate forms were yet to emerge; all was a contiguous, fungible, indivisible unity, “a crashing, soaring, gushing, roaring [profusion].” From this “primordial formlessness,” qi 氣 (vital breath, energy-matter) eventually emerged, of which the “clear and bright” sort became heaven, while the “heavy and turbid” sort became the earth. The joined “quintessence” of the newly-formed heaven and earth became yin and yang,276 and the “quintessence” of yin and yang went on to become the four seasons, the “quintessence” of which finally went on to become the “myriad forms,” referring to all remaining forms. 天墬未形，馮馮翼翼，洞洞灟灟，故曰太昭。道始于虛霩，虛霩生宇宙，宇宙生氣。氣有涯垠，清陽者薄靡而為天，重濁者凝滯而為地。清妙之合專易，重濁之凝竭難，故天先成而地後定。天地之襲精為陰陽，陰陽之專精為四時，四時之散精為萬物。積陽之熱氣生火，火氣之精者為日；積陰之寒氣為水，水氣之精者為月；日月之淫為精者為星辰，天受日月星辰，地受水潦塵埃。 277 Fung Yu-lan proffers a close analysis of “Tian Wen Xun’s” cosmogony in the essay “Huainanzi guanyu ‘qi’.” In addition to “Tian Wen Xun”, cosmogonic passages also appear in the Huainanzi chapters “Chu Zhen Xun” 俶真訓 (“Beginning of the True”) and “Jing Shen Xun” 精神訓 (“Quintessential Spirit”). For a thorough exposition of the “Chu Zhen Xun” cosmogony, see Le Blanc, “From Ontology to Cosmology.” For the cosmogony of “Jing Shen Xun”, see Dai Junren’s essay “Huainanzi de sixiang.” Dai argues that the “Jing Shen Xun” cosmogony contains “theistic” or “creationistic” elements that conflict with Huainanzi’s otherwise naturalistic account of reality’s emergence. In contrast to this, Fung and Michael Puett both argue that Huainanzi posits a valid synthesis of creationist and naturalistic elements. See “Huainanzi guanyu ‘qi’” and To become a god, 259–86. Although Huainanzi’s various cosmogonic passages overlap, they appear in treatment of different topics. See Nylan, “A Note on Logical Connectives,” 264–5. 276 Gao glosses “quintessence” (jing 精) as “qi”. He, Jishi, 166. 277 Ibid., 165–7. This passage has parallels with the first stanza of Chuci poem “Tian Wen”. See Hong, Chuci, 85–6. 275 119 When the heaven and terrains were not yet formed, [all was] a crashing, soaring, gushing, roaring [profusion], and thus was called “Supreme Beginning.” 278 Dao began in empty vastness; the empty vastness gave birth to time and space; time and space gave birth to qi. Qi had shores and boundaries: the clear and bright fluttered [together] to become heaven; and the heavy and turbid curdled to become earth. The converging of the clear and fine was localised and easy; the curdling of the heavy and turbid was exhaustive and difficult. Thus, heaven was completed first and earth fixed after. The joined quintessence of heaven and earth became yin and yang; the specialised quintessence of yin and yang became the four seasons; and the scattered quintessence of the four seasons became the myriad forms. The hot qi of accumulated yang gave birth to fire, and that which was quintessential of fire qi became the sun; the chilly qi of accumulated yin gave birth to water, and that which was quintessential of water qi became the moon. That which was quintessential of the excess of the sun and moon became the stars and constellations. Heaven received the sun and moon, stars and constellations [while] earth received the rivers and floods, dirt and dust. The pivotal moment in this cosmogonic process comes when qi coalesces the first distinct forms, demarcating “shores and boundaries” from the sheer, contiguous topography of the primordial cosmos. This initial qi, through movements of conjoining, rarefication, accumulation, and transference, goes on to coalesce all forms, from the mythical to the mundane. As Fung Yu-lan formulates it, “Huainanzi uses its theory of qi to describe the material causes of the constitution and emergence of the myriad forms.” 279 Through its radical transformations, which I collectively term “differentiation,” qi coalesces forms with diverse characteristics, belonging to diverse sorts. The first differentiation in “Tian Wen Xun’s” cosmogony yields the abstract energies of yin qi and yang qi. Subsequent differentiations give form to diverse “myriad forms”; these are, as Fung My translation reflects Wang Yinzhi’s 王引之 (1766–1834) suggestion that “‘Supreme Luminescence’ (tai zhao) ought to be emended to ‘Supreme Beginning’ (tai shi)” (“太昭當作太始,” He, Jishi, 165.) 279 “《淮南子》還用氣的學說, 講一些說明了萬物構成和發生的物質原因。” “Huainanzi guanyu ‘qi’,” 142. 278 120 explains, “the result of the physical properties of the dual qis of yin and yang mechanistically impacting on one another.”280 This is also how qi is able to coalesce forms belonging to opposite sorts: from yang qi there is derived a hot qi, which forms fire, with its burning heat, while from yin qi there is derived a chilly qi, forming water, with its dark, cool characteristics. Throughout these various differentiations, however, qi remains fundamentally singular; the qi that forms fire is still qi, just like the qi that forms water. These metaphysical properties may be represented diagrammatically as a simple bifurcation. The two individual lines represent two coalescences of differentiated qi, and two discrete forms. The overall shape also represents a singular qi, which retains the radical potential to differentiate again and again. Fig. 3 Differentiating qi In “Tian Wen Xun’s” metaphysical paradigm, it is through this differentiation of singular qi that all forms eventually coalesce (“…And the scattered quintessence of the four seasons became the myriad forms.”) In other words, phenomenal reality in its physical and diachronic entirety consists, most fundamentally, in a singular qi. This reality may be diagrammatically represented as a many-tiered bifurcating structure, wherein each bifurcation represents a differentiation of qi (see figure 4). “萬物的形成和差別, 是陰陽二氣的物理性能機械地互相作用的結果。” “Huainanzi guanyu ‘qi’,” 142–3. Fung attempts to explain the interactions of yin and yang qi in mechanical and material terms, reasoning that “[Huainanzi] clearly asserts that qi has mass: the mass of yang qi is ‘clear and bright’ [while] the mass of yin qi is ‘heavy and turbid.’ Because their mass is different, these [two] have different physical properties, such as rising and sinking and dispersing and condensing.” (“ [《淮南子》] 明確地認為氣是有質量的, 陽氣的質量是 ‘清陽’, 陰氣的質量是 ‘重濁’。因為質量不同, 所以它們有飛揚和下降, 發散和凝聚等不同的物理性能。” Ibid., 142.) 280 121 Fig. 4 Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema The first bifurcation represents primordial qi differentiating to coalesce the first discrete forms at the dawn of cosmic time, while the cascade of successive bifurcations represents derivative differentiations of qi, generating younger forms and sorts.281 Overall, I argue that Huainanzi’s diachronic world-schema, modelling the development of the cosmos since the dawn of time, may be represented diagrammatically as this shape. I now test this tentative interpretation against a range of cosmographical evidence drawn from across “Di Xing Xun”. I begin with the following passage, which is taken from the beginning of the chapter, describing the configuration of the nine provinces (zhou 州). There are eight provinces at each of the points and corners of the compass and a ninth at the centre. Each of these provinces has an “earth”, and a great diversity of characteristics is observed between these nine earths. The earth of the northern province, for example, is “completed” (in the sense of “mature” or “ready”), while the earth of the southern province is “sumptuous.” The image of branches multiplying out from a common root is a popular expositional motif in contemporary Huainanzi scholarship. See Andrew Meyer’s investigation “Root-Branches Structuralism.” Meyer argues that the Huainanzian cosmos “began as a unitary, undifferentiated, and infinitely potent ‘root’ and evolved through successive stages of ramification into ever-morevariegated cosmic branches” (page 26). 281 122 何謂九州? 東南神州曰農土，正南次州曰沃土，西南戎州曰滔土，正西弇州曰并土，正中冀州曰中土，西北台州曰肥土，正北泲州曰成土，東北薄州曰隱土，正東陽州曰申土。282 What are the nine provinces called? To the southeast is Shen Province, called Agricultural Earth; to the south is Ci Province, called Sumptuous Earth; to the southwest is Rong Province, called Abounding Earth; to the west is Yan Province, called Matured Earth; 283 to the centre is Ji 冀 Province, called Central Earth;284 to the northwest is Tai Province, called Fat Earth; to the north is Ji 泲 Province, called Completed Earth; to the northeast is Bo Province, called Lurking Earth; to the east is Yang Province, called Prolonging Earth.285 Eight winds blow into the nine provinces from the eight compass directions. Each of these directional winds has its own characteristics, and again, a great diversity is observed among them. The Northern wind, for example, is “chilling” while the Southern is “tremendous.” 何謂八風？東北曰炎風，東方曰條風，東南曰景風，南方曰巨風，西南曰凉風，西方曰飂風，西北曰麗風，北方曰寒風。 286 What are the Eight Winds called? The northeastern one is called Scorching Wind; the eastern one is called Ordering Wind;287 the southeastern one is called Auspicious He, Jishi, 312–3. Yu Gong and the Lüshi Chunqiu chapter “You Shi” 有始 (“There was a Beginning”) list Yan 兗 as one of the Nine Provinces. See Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 145; and Chen, Lüshi, 658. Huainanzi draws heavily on both texts, and so it is possible that yan 弇 is an alternate spelling, referring to the same province. On the other hand, Yu Gong and “You Shi” locate Yan Province to the East. 284 Yu Gong and “You Shi” also list Ji 冀 as one of the Nine Provinces, locating this in the heartland of early Chinese civilisation, which corresponds to the Northeast of modern-day China. See Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 138; and Chen, Lüshi, 658. 285 Yu Gong and “You Shi” list Yang 揚 Province as one of the Nine Provinces, locating this to the Southeast. See Sun, Jin gu wen zhushu, 158; and Chen, Lüshi, 658. For the traditional geography and cosmography of early and early medieval China, see Janine Nicol, “Daoxuan (c.596-667) and the creation of a Buddhist sacred geography of China: an examination of the Shijia fangzhi” (PhD dissertation, SOAS University of London, 2017), 30–46 in particular. 286 He, Jishi, 317–9. With a couple discrepancies, this passage is parallel with a passage in “You Shi” (Chen, Lüshi, 658). A different list of eight directional winds appears in “Tian Wen Xun”, which, barring a number of exceptions, matches a list found in the Shuowen jiezi; see Ding and Xu, Gulin, 6051. Gao attempts to match up the winds in the “Tian Wen Xun”/Shuowen and “Di Xing Xun”/“You Shi” lists item-for-item, with limited success. See He, Jishi, 195. 287 “You Shi” has Bountiful Wind 滔風 in lieu of Ordering Wind 條風 (Chen, Lüshi, 658). In his separate commentaries to “Di Xing Xun” and “You Shi”, Gao further glosses this as Wind of Illuming the Multitudes 明庶風 (He, Jishi, 317; Chen, Lüshi, 669). However, Wind of Illuming the Multitudes 282 283 123 Wind; 288 the southern one is called Tremendous Wind;289 the southwestern one is called Cool Wind;290 the western one is called Lofty Wind; the northwestern one is called Fearsome Wind;291 the northern one is called Chilling Wind. Surveying these nine earths and eight winds, it appears that those sharing similar characteristics are found in the same compass direction. “Sumptuous” earth and “tremendous” wind, for example, are found in the South. This is corroborated in the following passage, which describes the South as an area full of virile, humid, vigorous, overgrown, and sharp things. 南方，陽氣之所積，暑濕居之，其人脩形兌上，大口決眦，竅通於耳，血脈屬焉，赤色主心，早壯而夭；其地宜稻，多兕象。 292 The South is where yang qi accumulates; heat and damp reside there. Its people are long of form and sharp on top; with big mouths and open canthuses; their apertures are connected to their ears. Blood and blood-vessels belong to it (the South); 293 the colour crimson is lord over the heart. [Its people] are stout early on but die young. Its land is suited to rice, with many rhinoceros and elephants. is also seen in “Tian Wen Xun”, where it is listed as a separate item alongside Ordering Wind (He, Jishi, 195). 288 “You Shi” has Musty Wind 熏風 in lieu of Auspicious Wind 景風 (Chen, Lüshi, 658). Gao comments that Auspicious Wind also refers to “Tian Wen Xun’s” Clear Bright Wind 清明風 (He, Jishi, 317). However, in “Tian Wen Xun”, Auspicious Wind is listed separately alongside Clear Bright Wind (Ibid., 196). 289 In “You Shi”, Gao glosses ju 巨 as kai 凱 (triumphant) (Chen, Lüshi, 669), referring to the Shijing ode “Kai Feng” 凱風 (“Triumphant Wind”): “Triumphant wind comes from the South” (“凱風自南”; Shijing [Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2016], 39.) Kai 凱 (triumphant) is cognate with kai 愷 (joyful), which is how Gao glosses ju 巨 in “Di Xing Xun”. Yu Yue 俞樾 (1821–1907) and Yu Xingwu go so far as to suggest that kai 愷 and ju 巨 are two spellings of the same word: Yu Yue suggests that ju 巨 is a graphical misspelling of kai 豈, which can stand for kai 愷, while Yu Xingwu suggests that ju 巨 is a phonetic substitute for kai 愷 (He, Jishi, 317; Chen, Lüshi, 669). 290 “You Shi” has Bitter Wind 凄風 in lieu of Cool Wind 凉風 (Chen, Lüshi, 658). 291 Li 麗 (beautiful) is an alternate spelling of li 厲 (fearsome). Since li 厲 appears in the “You Shi” text, I maintain that li 麗 here ought to be read as such (Ibid., 658). 292 He, Jishi, 352. 293 Major points out that these differ from standard correspondences between directions and viscera, which see the South governing the lungs (Heaven and earth, 184). 124 These characteristics are even shared by inhabitants of the southern lands far beyond the nine provinces, who are identified by their ferocious demeanour and fearsome body modifications. 凡海外三十六國，[…] 自西南至東南方，結胷民、羽民、讙頭國民、裸國民、三苗民、交股民、不死民、穿胷民、反舌民、豕喙民、鑿齒民、三頭民、脩臂民。294 Beyond the oceans there are thirty-six lands, […] From the Southwest to the Southeast, [there are] the Knot-chested people, 295 the Feathered people, the people of the Huantou land,296 the people of the Naked land, the three Miao peoples, the Joinedthigh people, the Undying people, the Pierced-chest people, people of twisted tongues,297 the Hog-snouted people, the Chisel-toothed people, the Three-headed people, and the Long-upper armed people. Overall, it appears that forms sharing similar characteristics are found in the same environment. This thesis is corroborated in the following passage, which arrays diverse peoples and geological deposits. 堅土人剛，弱土人肥，壚土人大，沙土人細，息土人美，秏土人醜。 298 […] 白水宜玉，黑水宜砥，青水宜碧，赤水宜丹，黃水宜金，清水宜龜。 299 People of hard earth are unyielding; people of yielding earth are fat; people of black, gravelly earth are big; people of sandy earth are slight; people of replenishing earth are beautiful;300 and people of used-up earth are ugly. […] White water is suitable for jade; black water is suitable for whetstone; blue-green water is suitable for aquamarine jade; red water is suitable for cinnabar; yellow water is suitable for gold; and clear water is suitable for turtles. He, Jishi, 355–8. This passage draws on the Shanhaijing chapter “Haiwainan jing” 海外南經 (“Classic of Southern Areas Beyond the Seas”). See Hao, Jianshu, 198–201. 295 Meaning that their chest protrudes like a knot. 296 According to “Haiwainan jing”, the Huantou (alternatively Huanzhu 讙朱 or Huan 讙) are a bird-like people with beaks and winged faces who catch fish (Hao, Jianshu, 199). Huan 讙 means “to clamour” or “to call out,” specifically of birds. 297 Referring to peoples whose languages are unintelligible with Sinitic. 298 He, Jishi, 343. 299 Ibid., 350–1. 300 Referring to soil that does not diminish no matter how much it is dug away at. According to tradition, the culture hero Yu used this soil to shore up against the great flood; the myth is recounted in another “Di Xing Xun” passage. See Ibid., 322. 294 125 Each people shares its proper environment with an earth with which it shares a characteristic, while each geological deposit is suited to a body of water with which it shares characteristics. People who have slight builds, for example, are found near to fine, sandy earth, while blackcoloured whetstone is suited to black waters. Overall, in “Di Xing Xun’s” cosmography, forms sharing similar characteristics are found in the same environment. Just as intense, overgrowing forms are found together in the South, slight, fine forms are found together, as are black-coloured forms. The following passage observes the same phenomenon. In this instance, various peoples are catalogued sharing characteristics with the topographical or meteorological forms in proximity to which they live. 土地各以其類生，是故山氣多男，澤氣多女，障氣多喑，風氣多聾，林氣多癃，木氣多傴，岸下氣多腫，石氣多力，險阻氣多癭，暑氣多夭，寒氣多壽，谷氣多痹，邱氣多狂，衍氣多仁，陵氣多貪。輕土多利，重土多遲，清水音小，濁水音大，湍水人輕，遲水人重，中土多聖人。301 Each [thing] from the earth and on the land is born according to its sort. For this reason, the qi of mountains increases males; the qi of marshes increases females; the qi of ramparts increases muteness, the qi of wind increases deafness; the qi of forests increases infirmity; the qi of wood increases hunched-ness; the qi of coastal areas increases swollenness; the qi of stone increases strength; the qi of precipitous inaccessible [areas] increases goitre; the qi of heat increases premature death; the qi of cold increases longevity; the qi of valleys increases rheumatism; the qi of hillocks increases crookedness; the qi of flatlands increases humaneness; the qi of mounds increases covetousness. Light earth increases profit; heavy earth increases languor; clear water decreases [the volume of] sounds; turbid water increases [the volume of] sounds; the people of torrential waters are light; the people of placid waters are heavy; the central earth yields many sages. 301 He, Jishi, 338–40. 126 There appears to be a causal relationship between the sort of forms that pre-exist in – and constitute – a given environment, and the sort of new forms that emerge there. Taking the first example from the passage, the sturdy, upright, “male” mountain “yields” a preponderance of the characteristic of “maleness” within the population that emerges nearby. The opening line (“Each [thing] from the earth and on the land is born according to its sort”) substantiates this thesis, explicitly asserting that “sort” is the precedent according to which forms, with their particular characteristics, emerge and grow. The following passage documents this localised proliferation of sorts across multiple generations. 𥥛生海人，海人生若菌，若菌生聖人，聖人生庶人，凡𥥛者生於庶人。羽嘉生飛龍，飛龍生鳳皇，鳳皇生鸞鳥，鸞鳥生庶鳥，凡羽者生於庶鳥。毛犢生應龍，應龍生建馬，建馬生麒麟，麒麟生庶獸，凡毛者生於庶獸。介鱗生蛟龍，蛟龍生鯤鯁，鯤鯁生建邪，建邪生庶魚，凡鱗者生於庶魚。介潭生先龍，先龍生玄黿，玄黿生靈龜，靈龜生庶龜，凡介者生於庶龜。 302 Downy-haired gave birth to Sea-Man,303 Sea-Man gave birth to Agaric Ancestor, Agaric Ancestor gave birth to sages, and the sages gave birth to the common people. All downy-haired things are born from the common people. Feathered Excellence gave birth to Flying Dragon, Flying Dragon gave birth to Phoenix, Phoenix gave birth to the luan bird,304 and the luan bird gave birth to the common birds. All feathered things are born from the common birds. He, Jishi, 371–2. Ba 胈 with the “flesh” radical rou ⺼, is the standard graphical form of ba (downy). Here however, the graph is written with the “cavity” radical xue 穴. 304 The luan is a mythical bird related to the phoenix. It is mentioned in the Shanhaijing chapter “Xishan jing” and the Yi Zhou Shu text Wang hui 王會 (Coming Together of Kings). See Hao, Jianshu, 140; and Kong Chao 孔晁 and Wang Yinglin 王應麟, Zhoushu wanghui pian buzhu 周書王會篇補注, in Yi Zhou Shu yanjiu wenxian jikan 逸周書研究文獻輯刊 vol. 1, ed. Song Zhiying 宋志英 and Chao Yuepei 晁岳佩, 369–446 (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan chubanshe, 2015), 405. 302 303 127 Furry Calf gave birth to Winged Dragon, 305 Winged Dragon gave birth to Virile Horse,306 Virile Horse gave birth to the qilin, and the qilin gave birth to common beasts. All furred things are born from the common beasts. Armoured Scales gave birth to Sea Serpent, 307 Sea Serpent gave birth to Ginormous Fishbone,308 Ginormous Fishbone gave birth to Virile Fish, 309 and Virile Fish gave birth to common fish. All scaled things are born from common fish. Armoured Abyss gave birth to First Dragon, First Dragon gave birth to Profound Softshell, Profound Softshell gave birth to Divine Turtle, and Divine Turtle gave birth to common turtles. All armoured things are born from common turtles. Overall, in “Di Xing Xun’s” cosmography, it appears that sorts (here, “downy-haired,” “feathered,” and “furred” etc.) propagate locally. The sort of the forms that pre-exist in – and constitute – a given environment informs the sort of newly-emergent forms there. The passage on page 126 implies that this relationship is a function of qi. In this passage, it is the qi of various topographical and meteorological forms that is catalogued. Following this catalogue, the passage segues into the laconic formula “All [things] resemble their qi, all respond to their sort.” …山氣多男，澤氣多女，障氣多喑，風氣多聾，林氣多癃，木氣多傴，岸下氣多腫，石氣多力，險阻氣多癭，暑氣多夭，寒氣多壽，谷氣多痹，邱氣多狂，衍氣多仁，陵氣多貪。 According to legend, the Winged Dragon (yinglong 應龍, also called huanglong 黃龍) is a creature that is able to summon rain, and assisted Yu in combatting the floods by drawing the Yangtze and Yellow rivers with its tail to drain the floodwaters into the sea. It described in Shanhaijing “Dahuangbei jing” 大荒北經 (“Classic of the Western Great Wastes”) and Wang Jia’s 王嘉 (d. 390) Shi Yi Ji 拾遺記. See Hao, Jianshu, 239–40; and Congshu jicheng chubian vol. 749, 37. 306 Reading jian 建 as jian 健. 307 Accounts of the Sea Serpent (jiao 蛟) vary considerably. Compare Liu Yiqing’s 劉義慶 (403– 444) account in Shishuo xinyu 世說新語 (A New Account of the Tales of the World) with Peng Cheng’s 彭乘 (985–1049) in Moke huixi 墨客揮犀 (Keen Disquisitions of Lettered Men). See Liu, Shishuo xinyu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1993), 164; and Biji xiaoshuo daguan 筆記小說大觀 vol. 3, book 7 (Yangzhou: Jiangsu Guangling guji keyinshe, 1984), 45. 308 Kun 鯤 is the name of a legendary leviathan in Zhuangzi chapter “Xiaoyao you”. See Guo, Zhuangzi, 2. 309 The meaning of xie 邪 is not clear; I understand it as “fish” following the pattern established in the parallel paragraphs. The various pronunciations of xie 邪 belong to the Yu 魚 (Fish) rhyme group (bu 部) in the Guangyun 廣韻 (Broad Rimes). 305 128 […] 皆象其氣，皆應其類。故南方有不死之草，北方有不釋之冰，東方有君子之國，西方有形殘之尸。寢居直夢，人死為鬼。310 …the qi of mountains increases males; the qi of marshes increases females; the qi of ramparts increases muteness, the qi of wind increases deafness; the qi of forests increases infirmity; the qi of wood increases hunched-ness; the qi of coastal areas increases swollenness; the qi of stone increases strength; the qi of precipitous inaccessible [areas] increases goitre; the qi of heat increases premature death; the qi of cold increases longevity; the qi of valleys increases rheumatism; the qi of hillocks increases crookedness; the qi of flatlands increases humaneness; the qi of mounds increases covetousness. […] All [things] resemble their qi, all respond to their sort. Thus, in the South are grasses that do not die; in the North is ice that does not dissolve; in the East are lands of civilised men; in the West are the people of the Xing Can.311 Their sleeping and living is a constant dream, and [these] people become ghosts when they die. He, Jishi, 338–41. The graph shi 尸 (spirit personator; corpse) is used interchangeably with yi 夷 (barbarians; peoples) both in oracle bone texts, where it refers to the Yi group specifically, and in epigraphic texts, where it refers to non-Han peoples (“barbarians”) in general. Examples in the oracle bone corpus include entries #828 and #6459 in Guo Moruo’s Jiaguwen heji 甲骨文合集: “Use ten Yi people to present [sacrificially] to [ancestor] Ding and slaughter one head of cattle” (“用十尸[夷]于丁卯一牛,” vol. 1 [Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1979], 220); “Attack the Yi” (“正[征]尸[夷],” vol. 3, 949.) Shi 尸 and yi 夷 remain interchangeable into the early medieval period. For example, in his commentary to a Zhouli 周禮 (Rites of Zhou) passage “[At a] big funeral, present a ‘barbarian’ with a basin of ice” (“大喪，共夷槃冰”), Zheng Xuan glosses “‘Barbarian’ [is meant to] say ‘personator’” (“夷之言尸也”), referring to someone who acts out the role of the deceased in a ritual. See Zhouli Zhengshi zhu 周禮鄭氏注, Congshu jicheng chubian vols. 866–8, 32. For full discussion of the relationship between shi 尸 and yi 夷 in epigraphy, refer to Pang Pu 龐樸, Guodian Chu jian yu zaoqi ruxue 郭店楚簡與早期儒學 (Taipei; Wunan tushu chubanshe, 2002), 164–6; and Chen Pan 陳槃, “Chunqiu dashi biaolie guo jue xing ji cunmiebiao zhuanyi xubian (yi)” 春秋大事表列國爵姓及存滅表譔異續編 (一), Zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjisuo jikan 中央研究院歷史語言研究所集刊 (Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica) 30.1/2 (March 1959): 187–91. As for the “Xing Can”, Gao glosses this as a creature “with breasts for eyes and a belly and navel for a mouth, that would grasp a shield and axe with which to dance. Spirits of heaven had severed its hands and the latter Thearch of heaven had severed its head.” (“形殘之尸，於是以兩乳為目，腹臍為口，操干戚以舞。天神斷其手，後天帝斷其首也。” He, Jishi, 341.) This aligns with the description of a creature called the Xing Tian 形天 in the Shanhaijing “Haiwaixi jing” 海外西经 (“Classic of Western Areas Beyond the Seas”): “[it] contested spirit [power] with the Thearch; the Thearch severed its head and interred it at the Mountain of Eternal Sheep. [It] then had breasts for eyes and a navel for a mouth and grasped a shield and axe with which to dance.” (“形天與帝至此爭 310 311 129 Each form has “its” own particular qi.312 This qi is that which this form “resembles,” which is to say, its sort. “Qi” and “sort” also occupy parallel positions in the formulation “All [things] resemble their qi, all respond to their sort,” formalistically encoding the causal relationship between them. Overall, according to “Di Xing Xun”, a form’s qi determines its sort. On this basis, I posit that it is the qi of pre-existing forms in an environment that ultimately determines the sort of emerging forms there. This thesis is corroborated in the following passage, which documents the pale qi of “weak earth” yielding generations of forms belonging to the sort “white” and the abyssal qi of “female” earth yielding generations of “dark” forms. 弱土之氣，御于白天，白天九百𡻕生白礜，白礜九百𡻕生白澒，白澒九百𡻕生白金，白金千𡻕生白龍，白龍入藏生白泉，白泉之埃上為白雲，陰陽相薄為雷，激揚為電，上者就下，流水就通，而合于白海。牝土之氣，御于玄天，玄天六百𡻕生玄砥，玄砥六百𡻕生玄澒，玄澒六百𡻕生玄金，玄金千𡻕生玄龍，玄龍入藏生玄泉，玄泉之埃上為玄雲，陰陽相薄為雷，激揚為電，上者就下，流水就通，而合于玄海。 313 The qi of weak earth is governed by white heaven; after nine hundred years white heaven gives birth to white arsenic; after nine hundred years white arsenic gives birth to white mercury; after nine hundred years white mercury gives birth to a white metal; after a thousand years the white metal gives birth to a white dragon; the white dragon goes into hiding and gives birth to white springs; the precipitate of the white springs rises to become white cloud, yin and yang weaken one another and become thunder, are stimulated and become lightning; what has risen then goes down, and flowing water passes without resistance to combine with a white sea. The qi of female earth is governed by dark heaven; after six hundred years dark heaven gives birth to dark whetstone; after six hundred years dark whetstone gives birth to dark mercury; after six hundred years dark mercury gives birth to a dark metal; after a thousand years the dark metal gives birth to a dark dragon; the dark dragon goes into hiding and gives birth to dark springs; the precipitate of the dark 神，帝斷其首，葬之常羊之山，乃以乳為目，以臍為口，操干戚以舞。” Hao, Jianshu, 202.) The “Di Xing Xun” Xing Can likely refers to the “Haiwaixi jing” Xing Tian. 312 Puett also concludes that in Huainanzi, “birth is a process of qi gradually becoming a form.” To become a god, 273. 313 He, Jishi, 377. 130 springs rises to become dark cloud, yin and yang weaken one another and become thunder, are stimulated and become lightning; what has risen then goes down, and flowing water passes without resistance to combine with a dark sea. In the preceding pages, I have developed a series of observations concerning the physics of Huainanzi’s world based on cosmographical evidence in “Di Xing Xun”: first, each form has its own particular qi, and second, this qi determines this form’s sort. Third, the qi of preexisting forms in an environment ultimately determines the sort of new forms emerging nearby. These observations are accounted for in the tentative representation of Huainanzi’s world in figure 4, reproduced below. This figure, to recap, shows a singular qi coalescing an infinity of forms, in their diverse, even opposite, sorts, accounting for the first two observations. This is a function of qi differentiation, a phenomenon that also accounts for the localised propagation of sorts: “new” forms in the environment are new coalescences of alreadydifferentiated qi that exists nearby as other, older forms. This sharing of the same kind of differentiated qi among newer and older forms manifests in their shared characteristics and sort. (To refer to the example “[t]he qi of mountains yields more males”: the sturdy, upright, “male” qi that coalesces the mountains is transacted to the human population emerging nearby. The mountains and their local population, coalesced of this same sort of qi, both then manifest sturdy, upright, “male” characteristics.) In short, the localised propagation of the same sort(s) is the manifestation of the pseudo-genetic transference of differentiated qi (or in other words, the same kind of differentiated qi coalesces generation after generation of forms.) These localised “qi ancestries” are represented in the various (theoretically infinite) pathways linking up individual lines and extending through figure 4. These pathways, collectively, moreover represent what I referred to above as the “familiar natural order”. 131 Fig. 4 Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema In sum, on the strength of evidence drawn from “Tian Wen Xun” and “Di Xing Xun”, I posit figure 4 serves as an accurate diagrammatic representation of Huainanzi’s worldschema. While figure 4 does not, of course, constitute an absolute representation of this schema, it nonetheless stands as a possible skeletal representation. 132 Part Three: Huainanzi’s world and the basis of resonance In this third part of the chapter, I develop a comprehensive account of the basis of “Lan Ming Xun’s” resonance phenomena, in reference to Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema. In part One, I concluded that relative resonance refers to a phenomenon whereby forms of the same sort remotely affect one another, maintaining the familiar natural order, while total resonance refers to remote interactions that take place between forms of any sort. In part Two, I concluded that a form’s sort is determined by the kind of differentiated qi that coalesces it. As such, relative resonance may be defined more precisely as remote interactions between coalescences of the same kind of differentiated qi, while total resonance refers to remote interactions between forms coalesced of any kind of qi.314 In the case of relative resonance, this thesis is corroborated in the following extract from “Di Xing Xun”, which follows on directly from the extract analysed on pages 110–1. 皆象其氣，皆應其類。故南方有不死之草，北方有不釋之冰，東方有君子之國，西方有形殘之尸。寢居直夢，人死為鬼。磁石上飛，雲母來水，土龍致雨，燕鴈代飛, 蛤蠏珠龜，與月盛衰。315 All [things] resemble their qi, all respond to their sort. In his extensive study of the Huainanzi postface “Yao Lüe”, Murray also concludes that qi constitutes the medium of Huainanzian resonance, pointing out that Jixia 稷下 Academy scholar Zou Yan 鄒衍 (305–240 BC) codifies the earliest known theory of resonance in which qi is the principal medium or actor. See “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 101, note 124. Dai Junren also acknowledges the centrality of a kind of “mutual resonance based in qi and sort” (“氣類相感”) in Huainanzian cosmology (Quanji, 291). 315 He, Jishi, 340–3. 314 133 Thus, in the South are grasses that do not die; in the North is ice that does not dissolve; In the East are lands of civilised men; in the West are the people of the Xing Can. Their sleeping and living is a constant dream, and [these] people become ghosts when they die. Lodestone flies up;316 mica draws water.317 The earth-dragon makes rain arrive; 318 swallows and wild geese fly after one another. Clams, crabs, pearls, and turtles wax and wane with the moon [phases]. In the process of documenting localised concentrations of differentiated qi, several instances of relative resonance are also described (“Lodestone flies up; mica draws water… ”) The following “Lan Ming Xun” extract also presents relative resonance as a function of similarly-differentiated qi. 夫陽燧取火於日，方諸取露於月。天地之間，巧歷不能舉其數，手徵忽怳不能覽其光。然以掌握之中，引類於太極之上，而水火可立致者，陰陽同氣相動也。此傅說之所以騎辰尾也。319 The fusui burning mirror takes fire from the sun, and the fangzhu square receptacle takes dew from the moon.320 [Consider all that is] between heaven and earth: even a skilled calendarian is unable to enumerate its number; even a hand that traces the dim and indistinct is unable to grasp its lights. This is so, and yet one uses what’s within the palm of one’s hand to draw out sorts up to the Supreme Extremity. And that fire and water are able to be summoned, [this] is because the like qi of yin and yang stir one another. This is how Fu Yue bestrode the Tail.321 Lodestone is a naturally magnetised mineral that “flies up” in proximity to iron. Mica is hydrophilic. 318 Referring to dragon effigies made of mud or clay. Major explains, this is “a reference to the well-known folktale of how Tang the Victorious brought rain by creating an earthen dragon effigy, a practice that continued into Han times. […] The dragon, in its cloudy/abyssal aspect, is an ultimate embodiment of yin, and thus attracts yin rain.” Heaven and earth, 173. Dong Zhongshu describes the construction of dragon effigies for summoning rain in the chapter “Qiu Yu” 求雨 (“Entreating for Rain”) in Chunqiu Fanlu. See Su Yu 蘇輿, Chunqiu Fanlu yizheng 春秋繁露義證 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992), 426–37. 319 He, Jishi, 454–6. 320 “Fusui burning mirror” is written fuyangsui 夫陽燧 in the text. I follow Wang Niansun’s hypothesis that the yang 陽 was erroneously supplied by later editors who misunderstood fu- 夫 as a conjunction, leaving -sui 燧 in need of a prefix word to parallel the disyllabic fangzhu 方諸. Ibid., 454. 321 Fu Yue 傅說 served as premier and minister under King Wu Ding of Shang 商武丁 (r. 1324– 1265BC); his career is described in the “Yin benji” 殷本紀 (“Yin Annals”); see Shiji, 102. Zhuangzi chapter “Da zong shi” 大宗師 (“Great Ancestral Teacher”) describes how Fu ascended among the constellations; see Guo, Zhuangzi, 247. 316 317 134 The heat of the sun magnifies on the surface of a fusui burning mirror because their fiery yang qis “stir one another,” while the watery dew of the moon collects overnight in a fangzhu square receptacle because their watery yin qis interacts.322 Throughout the diagram of Huainanzi’s world-schema represented in figure 4, there extend pathways representing the continuation of individual kinds of differentiated qi (“qi ancestries”). As noted above, these collective pathways represent the familiar natural order. Relative resonance, as remote interactions between coalescences of the same kind of differentiated qi, may be represented on figure 4 as interactions along the same pathway. Shown in red on figure 5 below, this diagrammatisation visualises how the phenomenon maintains and constitutes the familiar natural order. Fig. 5 Example of one pathway within Huainanzi’s worldschema, representing the range of relative resonance Using the same figure, one might initially diagrammatise the phenomenon of total resonance as direct interactions between any lines in figure 4, bisecting its matrix of pathways, as shown in red on figure 6 below. The Tail (Wei 尾) is one of the twenty-eight lunar mansions, marker-points for the moon’s course through the sky. Refer to Needham, Science and civilisation, Vol. 3, 231–59. 322 Regarding burning mirrors (typically called yangsui 陽燧, literally “yang fire-starter”) and square receptacles, consult the essay devoted to the topic in Needham and Wang Ling, Science and civilisation in China, Vol. 4, Physics and Physical Technology, Part 1: Physics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), 87–94. 135 Fig. 6 How total resonance initially might appear within Huainanzi’s world-schema This figure diagrammatises how this phenomenon appears as a sweeping violation of the familiar natural order, and surely must take place on another level of reality. I argue that this other “level” of reality is a “great connectedness” of undifferentiated qi. As discussed above, by retaining the radical capacity to re-differentiate, qi is always, at a fundamental level, undifferentiated. Reality at the level of this un- or “pre”-differentiated qi is a sheer, singular, analytically-indivisible whole, where separate forms are yet to emerge. A human agent “enmeshed” therein faces no gap nor lag in affecting “other” forms, with which “they” constitute a whole, as “interactions” become “intra-actions.” (And in doing so, they circumvent the outlay of time and physical exertion that would be required to achieve the same effects through the familiar natural order.) It is this level of reality that I refer to as “great connectedness”. Great connectedness is in fact described in the cosmogonic opening passage of “Tian Wen Xun”, analysed in part Two, in reference to the cosmos’ primordial formlessness. 136 天墬未形，馮馮翼翼，洞洞灟灟，故曰太昭。 323 When the heaven and terrains were not yet formed, [all was] a crashing, soaring, gushing, roaring [profusion], and thus was called Supreme Luminescence. This “Tian Wen Xun” passage describes the cosmos’ earliest moments, when no forms had yet emerged separately from any “others” (to speak in terms of the latter natural order), and all was a contiguous, fungible, indivisible unity, “a crashing, soaring, gushing, roaring [profusion],” comparable to an ocean of un-isolatable waterdrops. The extract continues: 氣有涯垠，清陽者薄靡而為天，重濁者凝滯而為地。 […] 天地之襲精為陰陽，陰陽之專精為四時，四時之散精為萬物。 324 Qi had shores and boundaries: the clear and bright fluttered [together] to become heaven; and the heavy and turbid curdled to become earth. […] The joined quintessence of heaven and earth became yin and yang; the specialised quintessence of yin and yang became the four seasons; and the scattered quintessence of the four seasons became the myriad forms. Qi then carved out “shores and boundaries” from this undifferentiated chaos by differentiating into “clear and bright” and “heavy and turbid” kinds to coalesce heaven and earth, the first distinct forms. Through successive differentiations, this qi coalesced further forms, eventually producing the familiar natural order. This image of a primordial formlessness of pre-differentiated qi is mirrored in a state of “great connectedness” (da tong 大通) articulated in a further “Lan Ming Xun” extract. This extract, which follows on from the “lute-tuning” episode analysed on page 93, describes the experience of the total resonance agent. 323 324 He, Jishi, 165. Ibid., 166. 137 故通於太和者，惛若純醉而甘臥以游其中，而不知其所由至也。純溫以淪，鈍悶以終，若未始出其宗，是謂大通。 325 Thus, the one who is thoroughly connected through to supreme harmony is dim as if plain drunk and roams within it, sweetly asleep, not knowing whence they arrived. Submerged in clean warmth, terminated in dull mugginess, as if they had not yet begun to emerge from the ancestor: this is what is referred to as great connectedness. The passage describes this agent decomposing into “great connectedness” as his or her consciousness devolves to the point where he or she appears “dim as if clean drunk […] sweetly asleep, not knowing whence they arrived,” relinquishing that which marks him or her as a distinct individual. He or she thereby appears “as if they had not yet begun to emerge from the ancestor,” anteceding the latter order of discrete forms. It is in this great connectedness that their total resonance performance plays out. As seen in these examples, the total resonance agent accesses great connectedness from a starting position “within” the familiar natural order. What is the relationship between these two “levels of reality”, such that an individual may achieve a transition between them? While they may appear structurally antithetical, I propose that they refer not to two different physical spaces or levels, but to two different perspectives onto one and the same physical space – Huainanzi’s world – separated only in the cognition of the observer. I propose that the familiar natural order and great connectedness refer to a reductive and a holistic orientation (respectively) towards a single fractal world. This is represented in the fractal shape of figure 4, which reiterates the same bifurcating structure at all levels, including the whole. Fractal motifs are in fact visible at various points throughout Huainanzi. “Di Xing Xun”, 325 He, Jishi, 464–5. 138 for example, imagines terrestrial space organised as nested three-by-three squares. 326 Following on from the passage seen on page 104, a further passage in the chapter explains that the nine provinces are nested within further zones that stagger outwards: they are immediately encircled by eight distant regions (yin 殥), beyond which are eight outlying regions (hong 紘), beyond which lie eight extreme regions (ji 極). 九州之大，純方千里，九州之外，乃有八殥，亦方千里。327 […] 凡八殥八澤之雲，是雨九州。八殥之外，而有八紘，亦方千里，328 […] 凡八紘之氣，是出寒暑，以合八正，必以風雨。八紘之外，乃有八極，329 […] 凡八極之雲，是雨天下；八門之風，是節寒暑。八紘、八殥、八澤之雲，以雨九州而和中土。…330 The size of the nine provinces: all are a thousand square li, Beyond the nine provinces, there are eight distant regions, all are also a thousand square li. […] The clouds of the eight distant regions and the nine marshes [are those which fall on] the nine provinces as rain. Beyond the eight distant regions, there are eight outlying regions, all are also Henderson explores the origins of the nonary “magic square” as an organising device in early Chinese cosmography in Development and Decline, 64–7. For a discussion of the possible origins of the nonary square in Shang mythology and divination practices, see Sarah Allan, The Shape of the Turtle (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991). 327 He, Jishi, 330. 328 Ibid., 333–4. 329 Ibid., 335. 330 Ibid., 336. I offset the text in a gradual cascade to reflect its loose use of dingzhen 頂真 (referring to a literary device where the final word or phrase of a line is used to begin the next.) I do this to draw attention to the use of nesting forms within the structure of the text itself, a point discussed in greater depth on page 152 below. 326 139 a thousand square li. […] The qi of the eight outlying regions [is that which] emits heat and chill; in order to combine the eight proper (directional qi), there must be wind and rain. Beyond the eight outlying regions, there are eight extreme regions. […] The clouds of the eight extreme regions [are those which fall on] the realm as rain. The wind of the eight gates [are those which] regulate heat and chill. The clouds of the eight outlying regions, eight distant regions, and eight marshes rain onto the nine provinces and harmonise the central land. This fractal organisation of the terrestrial plane in “Di Xing Xun” is diagrammatised in figure 7 below. The prevalence of this and other macrocosm-microcosm structures in Huainanzian cosmography has been long noted by scholars.331 According to the analysis in part Two, however, I argue that the nested spaces of “Di Xing Xun’s” cosmography are not only containers for teeming coalescences of differentiating qi, but also are themselves coalesced of qi, and are therefore integrated into the Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema as sub-levels therein (see figure 8 below). Puett notes that Huainanzian soteriology manifests in a nesting cosmography where “humanity is a microcosm of the universe,” To become a god, 274. In the introduction to Essential Huainanzi, Major et al. contest that a compounding “roots and branches” structure forms not only the “central organizing metaphor” but moreover “the most fundamental dynamic principle conditioning the phenomenal realm,” 5–9. And in Development and Decline, Henderson stresses that micro-macro correlative thought forms not only “the heart of traditional Chinese cosmology,” (page xv) but also characterises cosmologies across a great variety of early civilisations. He cites Matila Ghyka: “the word Cosmos was, according to tradition, credited to Pythagoras, and meant originally ‘Order’, and this order is perceived as harmony, as consonance between ourselves and the Universe. This idea was developed as the correspondence between the Macrocosmos (the World) and the Microcosmos, or Man, with sometimes the Temple as the link, as ‘proportional mean’ between the two.” The Geometry of Art and Life (New York: Dover, 1977), 112. 331 140 Fig. 7 The nine provinces, eight distant regions, eight outlying regions, and eight extreme regions. Fig. 8 The nine provinces, eight distant regions, eight outlying regions, and eight extreme regions subsumed as fractal sub-levels within Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema Overall, Huainanzi’s diachronic world-schema is, like the shape in figure 4 that serves to represent it, a fractal, reiterating the same bifurcating structure at all levels. Fractal shapes complete a maximal integration of their constitutive parts, as well as encoding their own theoretical infinity. This is because, unlike normal finite systems in which each new level is governed by a new set of rules, a fractal is structured at all possible levels – including the whole – by the same rule.332 Higher orders of complexity mushroom from one simple operation, which encodes an infinity of theoretical microcosmic levels, extending all At each new level in non-fractal systems, by contrast, “the level below is taken as a unit and organised as such.” Edward De Bono, The Mechanism of Mind (London: Penguin, 1971), 28. 332 141 the way down. As such, any possible level both (1) is in the whole, as its part, and (2) is the whole, not only as its perfect structural facsimile, but also as a seamless integrant within this same true whole, where discrete “levels” are circumscribed from “others” on a purely synthetic basis. In figure 4, this fractal integrity represents great connectedness. Accordingly, “great connectedness” refers to Huainanzi’s world as seen by an observer who gleans its fractal integrity. By contrast, the arrangement of individual lines in figure 4, which, while making up the infinite whole, are themselves finite, represent the familiar natural order, which accordingly refers to Huainanzi’s world as an arrangement of separate forms divested of fractal attributes. Fig. 4 Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema, a fractal unity The diagrammatic representation of Huainanzi’s world in figure 4 thereby shows how the distinction between the familiar natural order and great connectedness is neither physical nor metaphysical, but cognitive: they referr to two perspectives (reductive and holistic, respectively) towards the same fractal world. (In other words, the relationship between great connectedness and the familiar natural order is the relationship between the infinite fractal shape and the finite elements that make it up.) Therefore, the arc of the total resonance agent, who accesses great connectedness from a 142 starting position “within” the familiar natural order, refers to a cognitive process. The agent ceases to regard the world as an arrangement of separate finite forms, divested of fractal attributes, instead gleaning its fractal integrity. (This may account for the fact that predominantly human agents appear in “Lan Ming Xun’s” examples of total resonance, whereas forms both conscious and non- are regularly implicated in relative resonance.) It is at this point that total resonance is then possible. Above, I tentatively diagrammatised total resonance as direct interactions between any lines in figure 4, bisecting its matrix of pathways, as seen in figure 6 (reproduced below). Fig. 6 How total resonance initially might appear within Huainanzi’s world-schema In light of the analysis above, this representation can be revised. Achieving a holistic orientation towards the world and gleaning its fractal unity, the total resonance agent “enmeshes” with great connectedness. In this way, they are theoretically able to resonate with all “form(s)” universally (to speak in terms of the latter natural order), with which they constitute a fractal unity, without lag or obstruction. This is diagrammatised as the intraaction of all lines in figure 4, shown in figure 9 below. 143 Fig. 9 The full theoretical scope of total resonance As a final note, the total resonance agents in the example seen on page 94 were seen to resonate not with all forms, but only with select patients. The reduced scope of these total resonance performances is accounted for in the following “Lan Ming Xun” extract, which follows on directly from the extract on page 114 describing the performances of King Wu and the Duke of Luyang. 夫全性保真，不虧其身，遭急迫難，精通於天。若乃未始出其宗者，何為而不成！夫死生同域，不可脅陵，勇武一人，為三軍雄。彼直求名耳，而能自要者尚猶若此，又況夫宮天地，懷萬物，而友造化，含至和，直偶於人形，觀九鑽一, 知之所不知，而心未嘗死者乎！333 Keeping intact their nature and preserving their trueness, not forfeiting their bodies Met with crisis and pressed with difficulty, their essence connected through to heaven. Just like ones who had not yet emerged from the ancestor, what feat could they not accomplish! With life and death in the same territory, unable to be coerced or bullied, [these] single men of courageous martial spirit [each] became [like] a hero of three armies. If that which those [two], who were just directly seeking fame, were able to demand of themselves could still be like this, then how much more [could be demanded in the case of] one who makes heaven and earth his palace, cherishes the myriad forms, befriends the creator, harbours utmost harmony, simply lodges in human form, 333 He, Jishi, 447–9. 144 observes nine and penetrates through to one, and [takes] that which knowing does not know,334 and [does so] with a heart that has never known death! The King and Duke antecede all forms within the familiar natural order, including their own (“Just like ones who had not yet emerged from their ancestor…”) to enmesh with great connectedness. This movement does not require the pair to irreversibly relinquish their forms (“Keeping intact their nature and preserving their trueness; not forfeiting their bodies…”), supporting the thesis that total resonance entails only a shift in cognitive orientation. The remark “What feat could they (the King and the Duke) not accomplish!” indicates that, in this state, there is nothing stopping them from resonating with everything. However, as seen in the passage, the King and Duke resonated only with limited patient(s). The extract goes on to muse “how much more” the scope of these resonance performances might have extended were the pair to have relinquished their quest of “seeking fame.” Here is the reason for the reduced scope of many total resonance performances: it is the agent themselves who artificially curtails this, electing to isolate certain forms within the latter order (winds; the sun) as resonance patients, as the function of a continued fixation with some plan or project within this order. In this respect, they are to contrasted with “one who makes heaven and earth his palace,” who would realise resonance on the universal scope represented in figure 9. In this third part of the chapter, I have developed a comprehensive account of the basis of resonance through reference to Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema. Depending upon the viewer’s orientation, Huainanzi’s world appears either as an infinite unity of undifferentiated qi (“great connectedness”) or an assortment of discrete forms exhibiting various As the “Lan Ming Xun” clause lacks a verbal element, I supplement on the basis of the parallel passage in Zhuangzi “Da zong shi”: “Those who know that which people do, take that which their knowing knows to nurture that which their knowing does not know” (“知人之所為者，以其知之所知，以養其知之所不知,” Guo, Zhuangzi, 224.) 334 145 characteristics (“the familiar natural order”). I represent the binary cognitive representability of the world (which itself reflects the binary appearance of the world’s constituent qi) with the shape in figure 4. This shape may be apprehended as a fractal whole, where the rule of bifurcation reappears at infinite levels all the way down, or divested of fractal attributes and reduced to an arrangement of finite individual lines.335 Relative resonance, as the remote interaction of forms of the same sort, is confined to the familiar natural order, maintaining and constituting this. This is represented in figure 5 (below) as interactions between lines along the same pathways. Fig. 5 An example of relative resonance within Huainanzi’s world-schema The would-be total resonance agent begins “within” this familiar natural order. Through the cognitive effort of gleaning the world’s fractal unity, they access great connectedness, where interacting remotely with any and all “forms”, regardless of sort, becomes possible. (As noted above, many total resonance agents among Huainanzi’s examples nevertheless elect to curtail the scope of their resonance performances, resonating with selected patients only.) This is represented as “intra-actions” between all lines in figure 9 (below). It should be noted that I am still unsure on how temporality and temporal directionality feature in this model. Perhaps these categories become meaningless at the level of great connectedness. 335 146 Fig. 9 The full theoretical scope of total resonance 147 Conclusion Many scholars have attempted to give full expression to the unitary nature of the worldschema put forth in Huainanzi. Michael Puett argues that it is a “phenomenology” that pushes the notion of “a monistic cosmos” to “the point when absolutely everything is seen as fully and inherently linked – not just seen as undifferentiated, but as even so linked that the very distinction of differentiated and undifferentiated is obliterated.” 336 Benjamin Wallacker touches on the theme of fractal integration in the preface to his translation of the “Bing Lüe Xun” chapter, musing that “[e]ach unique phenomenon is both part of and equal to the great unity of the cosmos.”337 In this chapter, I have gone a step further to argue that the complete Huainanzi manifests a schema of the world as an infinitely inter-connected fractal shape. In this way, the Huainanzi achieves, within limited text space, an infinitely potent representation and re-creation of reality, rendering obsolete all other cosmological projects, past, contemporary, and future, and recommending itself as the ultimate book. While Huainanzi painstakingly fleshes out this overarching world-schema across twentyone long chapters (which, in their assigned sequence, represent a conceptual whole in their own right), I have cast this into relief based on the evidence of “Tian Wen Xun” and “Di Xing Xun”, and tested it against its ability to illuminate the fundamental principles and processes underpinning the resonance phenomenon elaborated in “Lan Ming Xun”. Resonance, to summarise, takes two forms, relative and total. The fundamental difference between them lies in the cognition of conscious forms. Conscious forms begin caught up in the familiar natural order of finite, sorted forms. It is in this familiar order that relative 336 337 “Violent Misreadings,” 40. Huai-nan-tzu, Book Eleven, 10. 148 resonance happens automatically and routinely between forms, both conscious and non-. However, through the cognitive effort of apprehending the fractal unity of this same world, as a great connectedness of un- or pre-differentiated qi, total resonance becomes possible. The individual who apprehends the world’s unity, however, isn’t external to it. Having previously appeared to themselves as a discrete form, the apprehension of great connectedness encapsulates the realisation that “they”, too, are a seamless integrant in this fractal whole. 338 The fractal part is also, as discussed, the fractal whole. Therefore, total resonance refers not only to the part – the conscious agent – interacting with the whole, but also to the whole interacting with itself. In other words, total resonance refers to the reflexive operations of the entire world, and the threshold for this reflexive cosmic activity is this cosmos’ ability to observe itself. Overall, the complete Huainanzi embodies a schema of the world as a fractal shape that has the capacity to “observe” its own fractality. It is from this deceptively simple geometrical principle that a whole universe of vibrant, bewildering, and kaleidoscopic activity erupts forth. This dissolution of observer and observed bears similarities to Husserl’s phenomenological reduction, eliding to Puett’s description of Huainanzi as “a phenomenology.” 338 149 Conclusion to chapters Three and Four: Wholeness in Mu Shi versus Huainanzi In this segment, I discuss and compare the ways in which Mu Shi and Huainanzi, per the readings in the two preceding chapters, constitute wholes. I argue that the complete Mu Shi corresponds to a narrative whole, embedding a further independent structural whole within this. Huainanzi, by contrast, manifests a geometrical whole, in the form of a fractal schema of the world in which any part also corresponds to the whole. As noted in the Introduction, Mu Shi and Huainanzi share an intertextual unit that describes King Wu brandishing his weapons as he prepares to do battle at Mu. Comparing how this same part is incorporated into and gives rise to these wholes, I suggest that while Mu Shi’s narrative whole corresponds to the complete text, its embedded structural whole may stand alone; the fractal geometrical whole of Huainanzi, moreover, does not correspond to any specific amount of nor selection from the text. In chapter Three, I divided Mu Shi into two parts, a contextualising frame and, following this, the harangue itself. In the harangue itself, Wu explains that heaven has decreed his forces’ victory in the upcoming battle and expressly assents to this decree (“Now, I, Fa, furnish and execute heaven’s punishment.”) In addition to suggesting the deterministic nature of the world, this harangue also gives a direct insight into Wu’s psychology through the use of direct speech. His exhortations to the assembled troops, by turns stirring and threatening, express the strength of his alignment to the predetermined future. This harangue moreover manifests its own structural whole. As argued in part Two of chapter Three, the patterned, predictable 150 vision of the world suggested in its content is additionally embodied on the structural level; this balanced, symmetrical form of this represents a whole in its own right. In the contextualising frame preceding the harangue, Wu is presented as already having succeeded at the battle of Mu and ousted the Shang. The use of the omniscient impersonal voice in this frame corroborates the worldview suggested in Wu’s harangue speech, affirming that isn’t just “in his head.” The interplay of narrative sequence and narrative voice across the two parts of Mu Shi – frame and harangue – conjures the exposition of a deterministic worldview (and, correspondingly, a stoic ideal of leadership.) 339 First, the two parts’ relationship with respective to narrative sequence constructs circular time. And as argued in chapter Three, the circularity of time in Mu Shi codifies the deterministic nature of the world, collapsing the open, unknown future into a closed, known past. Second, the two parts’ relationship with respect to their use of narrative voice allows both for Wu’s psychology to be shared while also affirming the understanding of the world that informs this psychology. Overall, per the reading in chapter Three, the complete Mu Shi corresponds to a narrative whole, inasmuch as the relationship between narrative sequence and voice across its two parts generate the cohesive exposition of a deterministic world and the corresponding stoic response to this world from King Wu (which, in the context of a deterministic system, is not really a “response” at all, but another coordinate within the same predetermined programme. To summarise from the conclusion to chapter Three, he ensures the prosperity of his people by tying his projects to that which has “already” succeeded, per heaven’s decree, at a personal ontological cost.)340 “Exposition” is to be contrasted with “argumentation”; Mu Shi shows, rather than tells, its view of the world and its protagonist’s position. 340 Per Mieke Bal, the definition of a narrative text is one “in which an agent or subject conveys to an addressee (‘tells’ the reader, viewer, or listener) a story in a medium, such as language, imagery, sound, buildings, or a combination thereof.” “Story” refers to “the content of [a] text and produces a particular manifestation, inflection, and ‘colouring’ of a fabula,” where “fabula” refers to “a series of 339 151 The intertextual unit appears in Mu Shi in the contextualising frame before Wu has begun to utter his harangue. It refers to Wu as “king” (wang) and describes him as holding a “yellow battle-axe” and a “white mao banner” – ritual props associated with the regent – showing he has already prevailed at Mu. 王左杖黃鉞，右秉白旄以麾… In his left hand the king wielded a yellow battle-axe, and in his right he gripped a white mao banner, which he waved to signal… Appearing in this position within Mu Shi’s narrative sequence, the unit plays a critical role in establishing the circular narrative time of the complete Mu Shi, which, in turn, forms an exposition of Mu Shi’s deterministic world. However, the unit plays no part in the structural whole intrinsic to the text of the harangue itself. As argued in chapter Four, Huainanzi articulates the schema of an infinitely interconnected fractal world. By the text’s own account, this world-schema is a structural facsimile of the fractal lived world beyond it. Moreover, the text elaborating this schema also assumes a fractal shape. The text of the “Di Xing Xun” passage on page 139, for example, telescopes out through successive layers in dingzhen 頂真 (referring to a literary device where the final word or phrase in a line is used to begin the next), thereby assuming the nested form of the peripheral zones that it describes.341 In this way, one can say that Huainanzi’s world-schema is a facsimile of a facsimile of a fractal lived world, thereby logically and chronologically related events that are caused or experienced by actors.” Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative, fourth edition (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017), 5. 341 Numerous examples of the same can be found throughout the text. For example, Murray asserts that the postface chapter Yao Lüe has an “ever-broadening” nesting structure that “can be said to consist of both a summary and summaries, and summaries of the summary and summaries, and so forth” (“A Study of ‘Yao Lue’,” 62–3). 152 embodying the spatial regression that forms its cosmological thesis. Per this cosmological thesis, not only are the Huainanzi text and world-schema in the world as resident parts, but they also are the world, not only as its structural facsimiles, but also as indivisible integrants of a fractal whole.342 In this way, Huainanzi manifests a fractal world-schema, in which any part corresponds to the whole. This is a geometrical whole. The intertextual unit appears in the chapter “Lan Ming Xun”. In the context of Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema, King Wu brandishing his weapons at Mu, like any other Huainanzian “part,” corresponds to this fractal geometrical whole. 於是武王左操黃鉞，右秉白旄，瞋目而撝之… At this, King Wu grasped his yellow battle-axe in his left hand and gripped his white mao banner in his right. His eyes wide, he brandished these… In chapter Four, this unit was encountered in the context of the analysis of an excerpt from the complete Huainanzi, which included selections from “Tian Wen Xun”, “Di Xing Xun”, and “Lan Ming Xun”. As shown through this analysis, this excerpt was sufficient to establish the universal rule of “part equals whole.” This serves to show that the complete Huainanzi text is not necessarily required to trace the contours of its fractal world-schema; a partial extract can be sufficient. Moreover, once an extract from the text proves sufficient to encode the Huainanzian geometrical whole, any further additions from further selections of text will simply be subsumed within this same, unchanging whole, which, like all fractals, is infinitely scalable and infinitely modifiable. To conclude, the complete Mu Shi, per my reading in chapter Three, corresponds to a narrative whole that embeds within it the further, structural whole of the harangue itself. 342 Refer to the discussion of the properties of fractals on page 141–2. 153 However, as seen in the role of the intertextual unit, while the structural whole of the harangue may be detached from the complete text and still stand on its own, the narrative whole cannot stand without it. Per my reading in chapter Four, the wholeness of Huainanzi refers to geometrical wholeness of a world-schema that emerges through the rule of “the part equals the whole.” As demonstrated in the discussion of the intertextual unit, this fractal world-schema, in contrast with Mu Shi’s narrative whole, does not correspond to any specific amount of nor selection from the text, and may be manifested and maintained through any extract that sufficiently establishes its structuring rule (with any further additional text being retroactively subsumed within this all-encompassing whole.) 154 Chapter Five: Huainanzi II (“Tai Zu Xun” 泰族訓 [“Highest Conglomeration”]) In this chapter, I further develop my interpretation of the complete Huainanzi with a focus on chapter “Tai Zu Xun”. As the final chapter before the epilogue “Yao Lüe”, “Tai Zu Xun”, as its title suggests, synthesises the diverse insight and theory of the preceding nineteen chapters and applies this in an exposition of the governance of the sage-ruler, who, in all matters, operates on the basis of “sincerity” (cheng 誠), or a “sincere heart” (cheng xin 誠心). I argue that the interpretation of Huainanzi’s overarching world-schema developed in the previous chapter illuminates the deeper metaphysical basis of “Tai Zu Xun’s” concept of governance-by-sincerity: properly, this is to be understood as an infinitely-connected cosmos being realised in and as the political realm. In other words, “Tai Zu Xun” develops a theory of government as the practice of realising a fractal cosmology in the political realm. Insofar as this analysis further supports and augments the interpretation of Huainanzi’s all-encompassing cosmological schema set out in chapter Four, that and the present chapter, taken together, stand as a single, extended interpretation of the complete Huainanzi. The chapter is structured in three parts. In the first, I show that the concept of “sincerity” in “Tai Zu Xun” refers to a state in which the individual gains the ability to perform total resonance. In the second, I revisit the analysis of the previous chapter (supported by further evidence from “Tai Zu Xun”) to demonstrate that, in referring to an attitude where total resonance is possible, sincerity refers to a cognitive state towards the world as a “great connectedness” of un-differentiated qi. In the third and final part, I apply this definition of sincerity to show that the concept of governance-by-sincerity in “Tai Zu Xun” indeed refers 155 to governing by apprehending great connectedness, whereby the ability of total resonance becomes available to the ruler. As it is beyond the scope of the study to analyse “Tai Zu Xun” in its entirety, the present chapter refers to a representative series of extracts. The Pléiade edition Huainanzi identifies two parts to “Tai Zu Xun” chapter, the first discussing theoretical aspects of sincerity, and the second giving examples of sincere governance from history and legend; the present analysis uses extracts drawn from both parts in order to be maximally representative.343 Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2, 942, breaking at around “故立父子之親而成家” (“Thus, establish intimacy between father and son and the household is founded,” He, Jishi, 1388.) The complete “Tai Zu Xun” is translated in Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2, 949–95. 343 156 Part One: Sincerity and resonance I first present an extract from near the beginning of the “Tai Zu Xun” that introduces the concept of sincerity in connection with the concept of “resonance” (ganying). In the previous chapter, I explained that resonance refers to a phenomenon whereby separate entities or “forms” (wu) affect one another remotely, without any apparent transaction of physical force, resulting in correlated behaviours. As elaborated in the sixth Huainanzi chapter “Lan Ming Xun”, this phenomenon falls into two categories: relative resonance, referring to remote interactions between forms belonging to the same “sort” (lei), and (more rarely) total resonance, referring to interactions between any and all forms, regardless of sort. I argue that sincerity refers to a state in which an individual is able to perform total resonance. The first passage in the extract describes several instances of relative resonance. 夫溼之至也，莫見其形而炭已重矣；風之至也，莫見其象而木已動矣。日之行也，不見其移；騏驥倍日而馳，草木為之靡；縣熢未轉而日在其前。故天之且風，草木未動而鳥已翔矣；其且雨也，陰曀未集而魚已噞矣。以陰陽之氣相動也。故寒暑燥溼，以類相從；聲響疾徐，以音相應也。故《易》曰：「鶴鳴在陰，其子和之。」344 As a principle, at the arrival of moisture, none sees its shape, and yet coal is already heavier; at the arrival of wind, none sees its likeness, and yet wood has already moved; at the passage of the sun, one does not see its movement -- fine steeds gallop to double [the speed of] the sun, [with] grasses and timber blown away by them, before distant beacon lamps [can complete] a turn, and yet the sun is still in front of them. Thus, when heaven is about to [send] wind, the grasses and wood have yet to move and yet birds have already taken flight. When it is about to [send] rain, overcast gloom has yet to gather and yet fish already gawp [at the surface]. This is because they move one another with the qi of yin and yang. 344 He, Jishi, 1374. 157 Thus, heat and cold, damp and dryness follow each other according to sort; sounds and echoes, rapid or slow, respond to each other according to sonority. Thus, the Yi[jing] says, “The crane cries out in the shadows; her child sings back to her.” 345 Coal responds to wetness (both are dark and yin), birds respond to the wind, and fish respond to the rain. As the extract explains, these forms “move one another with the qi of yin and yang,” as “heat and cold, damp and dryness” respond to one another on the basis of “sort”. This agrees with the analysis in the previous chapter, which concluded that resonance phenomena are a function of qi. Next, the extract draws a parallel with the instantaneous response shared between sounds and their echoes. This echoes the “Lan Ming Xun” passage analysed on page 93, which illustrated the principle of resonance with the analogy of musical notes played on a lute. Finally, the excerpt cites a couplet from the sixty-first hexagram in the Yijing “Zhong Fu” 中孚 (“Centre Returning”) that describes baby cranes calling out in response to the cries of their unseen mother. This as an example of automatic response between similar forms in the foundational literature. The extract continues, presenting another example of resonance, this time drawn from legend. 高宗諒闇，三年不言，四海之內寂然無聲；一言聲然大動天下。是以天心呿唫者也。故一動其本而百枝皆應，若春雨之灌萬物也，渾然而流，沛然而施，無地而不澍，無物而不生。346 When Gaozong [went into] ritual mourning,347 he did not speak for three years. [There was] nothing but silence within the four seas. [Then] with a single utterance he greatly moved the realm; this is because he opened and closed [his mouth] with the heart of heaven. Thus, move its root [but] once and the hundred branches all respond, like spring rain suffusing the myriad forms; in pitching [waves] it flows; in copious [torrents] it 345 346 347 Li Daoping 李道平, Zhouyi jijie zuanshu 周易集解纂疏 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1994), 518. He, Jishi, 1375. Gaozong is the posthumous name of the historical King Wu Ding of Shang. 158 spreads; there is no place that it does not inundate; there is no form that it does not give birth to. With only the faintest of sounds, Gaozong remotely moves not isolated forms, but all forms in the realm. This resonance performance, absolute in scope, is analogised as heavy, relentless spring rain that spreads everywhere, drenching everything. The extract then goes on to describe the resonance performance of a sage. 故聖人者懷天心，聲然能動化天下者也。故精誠感於內，形氣動於天，則景星見，黃龍下，祥鳳至，醴泉出，嘉穀生，河不滿溢，海不溶波。348 Thus, the sage is one who holds in their breast the heart of heaven and is able to move and transform the realm with a sound. Thus, [when] rarefied sincerity is affected from within and the qi of [their] shape is moved by heaven, spectacular stars appear, the yellow dragon descends, the propitious phoenix arrives, springs of sweet wine burst forth, and excellent grains grow; the Yellow River does not swell to bursting, the seas do not billow and surge. When “rarefied sincerity is affected from within” the sage, and “the qi of [their (the sage’s)] shape is moved by heaven”, all sorts of mythical forms are stimulated. Both Gaozong’s and the sage’s feats constitute exemplar performances of total resonance. Not only do they refer to remote interactions between forms of any and all sort, but the identification of qi as a causal factor moreover agrees with the analysis in the previous chapter, where I defined total resonance as a function of the qi of which all forms are coalesced.349 The second extract refers to “sincerity” (cheng) as the catalyst for this feat: it is when “rarefied sincerity is affected from within” the sage (who “holds in their breast the He, Jishi, 1375. Consider how apt the description “move its root [but] once and the hundred branches all respond” (referring to Gaozong’s resonance) to gloss the representation of total resonance presented in figure 4 in the previous chapter. 348 349 159 heart of heaven”) that “the qi of [their] shape is moved by heaven” and total resonance takes place. On this basis, it appears that sincerity refers to an attitude or state through which the individual gains the ability to actualise total resonance. In the previous chapter, I claimed that total resonance becomes possible for individuals through the apprehension of Huainanzi’s world as a “great connectedness” of un-differentiated qi. Accordingly, I argue that “sincerity” refers to the cognitive state of apprehending great connectedness. In the following, I flesh out this argument by revisiting the analysis in the previous chapter, referring to further evidence from “Tai Zu Xun”. 160 Part Two: Sincerity and great connectedness According to the interpretation in the previous chapter, qi is the fundamental component of Huainanzi’s world. This qi, on the one hand, has the propensity to differentiate; through this differentiation process, it coalesces the “myriad forms” (wan wu) in their diverse sorts, forming what I termed the “familiar natural order”. On the other hand, throughout these differentiations and coalescences, qi retains the potential to re-differentiate. In this way, it is always fundamentally an un- or pre-differentiated singular qi (the hot qi that forms fire, for example, is still qi just like the cool qi that forms water.) Reality at the “level” of the un- or predifferentiated qi is a sheer, analytically-indivisible “great connectedness”, where separate forms are yet to emerge. In short, the dual nature of qi gives rise to a dual “phenomenology” of Huainanzi’s world, whereby interactions that would be impossible within the limits of the familiar natural order become possible as “intra-actions” within the great connectedness of pre-differentiated qi. This accounts for the possibility of the phenomenon of total resonance. As discussed in the previous chapter, individuals do not ordinarily experience great connectedness. By default, they experience the world as the familiar natural order (to which they as discrete forms themselves belong.) And even though the world that great connectedness and the familiar order refer to are one and the same, these experiential paradigms are structurally very distinct: while the latter is finite, the former appears to accommodate the infinite. This is seen in the following “Tai Zu Xun” extract, which not only describes the arrangement of the familiar natural order, but also addresses the relationship of this order to 161 another “level” to the world, which I take to refer to great connectedness. This extract corresponds to the chapter’s opening passage, and directly precedes the extract reproduced on pages 134–7 above. 天設日月，列星辰，調陰陽，張四時。日以暴之，夜以息之，風以乾之，雨露以濡之。其生物也，莫見其所養而物長；其殺物也，莫見其所喪而物亡。此之謂神明。聖人象之。故其起福也，不見其所由而福起；其除禍也，不見其所以而禍除。遠之則邇，延之則疎；稽之弗得，察之不虚。日計無算，嵗計有餘。 350 Heaven set up the sun and moon, arrayed the stars and constellations, attuned yin and yang, and set forth the four seasons. The day exposes [things] to the sun, the night replenishes; the wind dries, and the rain and dew moisten. When it (heaven) gives birth to forms, in no case does it show [the way] that it nourishes [them] and yet forms [still] grow. When it kills forms, in no case does it show [the way] that it loses [them] and yet forms [still] perish. It is this that we call “numinous brightness”; the sage resembles this. Thus, when it engenders good fortune, it does not show what it derives [this] from and [still] good fortune is engendered. When it clears away catastrophe, it does not show what it uses and [still] catastrophe is cleared away. [Put] it at a distance, and it gets near; draw it in, and it makes itself scarce; examine it, and it will not be gotten; scrutinize it and it will not be empty. Reckon it [on the scale of] days and it is incalculable; reckon it [on the scale of] seasons and it is superfluous. “Heaven” (tian 天) arranges the familiar natural order of sorted forms, which includes arraying the sun and moon, yin and yang, the stars, seasons, day and night, and wind and rain, the life and death cycles of the myriad mortal forms, and the ebb and flow of fortune. However, the operations of heaven themselves are inscrutable from a standpoint within this familiar order (“In no case does it show [the way] that it nourishes [them] and yet forms [still] grow; […] in no case does it show [the way] that it loses [them] and yet forms [still] perish.”) In fact, heaven’s behaviours behind-the-scenes are excessive or counterintuitive to 350 He, Jishi, 1373. 162 the point of impossibility with regards to the laws and limitations that structure the familiar order (“[Put] it at a distance, and it gets near, draw it in, and it makes itself scarce […] Reckon it [on the scale of] days and it is incalculable, reckon it [on the scale of] seasons and it is superfluous.”) Overall, this extract testifies to the existence of a sphere or “level” to Huainanzi’s world that accommodates activity appearing infinite, limitless, and even impossible from a standpoint within the familiar natural order. Taking this “other level” to refer to the great connectedness of un-differentiated qi, how might the individual, who begins from a standpoint within the familiar order, come to apprehend this? In the previous chapter, I diagrammatically represented my interpretation of Huainanzi’s world-schema with the shape in figure 4 (reproduced below.) In this shape, each individual line represents a discrete form. These individual lines link up through various pathways, each of which represents the continuation of a kind of differentiated qi, coalescing generation after generation of forms belonging to the same sort. It is these pathways, taken collectively, that represent the familiar natural order. Fig. 4 Huainanzian reality However, this shape is also a fractal. The structural rule of bifurcation, representing the differentiation of qi, reiterates ad infinitum. As discussed in the previous chapter, any level 163 both is in the whole, as its part, and is the whole, both as structural facsimile and as seamless integrant within an infinite and infinitely-divisible whole. This geometrical unity serves to represent the great connectedness of singular un-differentiated qi. I argued that the would-be total resonance agent comes to apprehend great connectedness, where they would ordinarily see only a familiar order of discrete finite forms, in much the same way that one can glean the fractal properties of the shape in figure 4 where this might otherwise be regarded as an arrangement of separate finite shapes (namely, individual lines), divested of fractal attributes. Earlier on in this chapter, I claimed that sincerity refers to a state in which the individual gains the ability to perform total resonance. According to the analysis developed in the previous chapter and recanted above, the arc of the would-be total resonance agent refers not to a physical or phenomenal transformation, but to a cognitive effort to grasp the world as a “great connectedness” of un-differentiated qi, which I liken to noticing the special geometrical properties of a fractal shape. From this, it follows that “sincerity” specifically refers to this cognitive effort towards the infinite, fractal-like unity of the world. 164 Part Three: Governance by sincerity As noted in the introduction, articulating the concept of governance-by-sincerity is a core concern for “Tai Zu Xun”. In the following, I present an excerpt from the second half of “Tai Zu Xun” that expressly describes the regime of the sage who governs with a “sincere heart”. I draw on the definition of sincerity developed above to argue that, in essence, governance-bysincerity refers to governing by gleaning great connectedness; the sincere ruler unlocks the possibility of realising their will in the realm without limit through the mechanism of total resonance. The extract begins by describing the realm when a sage is in power. 聖主在上，廓然無形，寂然無聲，官府若無事，朝廷若無人。無隱士，無軼民，無勞役，無寃刑。四海之內，莫不仰上之德，象主之指，夷狄之國，重譯而至，非戶辯而家說之也。推其誠心，施之天下而已矣。《詩》曰：「惠此中國，以綏四方。」內順而外寧矣。351 [When] a sage-ruler is positioned above, he is secluded and without shape, silent without a sound; [his] government as if without business, [his] court halls as if without men; [there are] no reclusive scholars, no disenfranchised people, no harsh labour, no unjust punishment. Within the four seas, none do not gaze up to [his] virtue as superior and emulate [his] instructions as ruler; [in] the domains of the Yi and Di,352 [these] arrive [through] repeated translation; it’s not that [anyone] is contending [it] from door to door or persuading family after family. He does nothing more than promote his sincere heart and spread it out [through] the realm. The Shi[jing] says, “Care for these central domains, to pacify the four directions.”353 When all goes agreeably in the interior, the exterior is tranquil. 351 352 353 He, Jishi, 1382–3. Tribes to the east and north of the Zhou heartland, respectively. Zhu Xi, ed., Shijing (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2013), 378. 165 When a sage is in power, there does not appear to be any active governance through him. The ruler himself is passive, and his personnel and buildings also appear dormant. In spite of this, society is inclusive (“[There are] no reclusive scholars, no disenfranchised people…”) and people are reverent of and obedient to their ruler (“none do not gaze up to [his] virtue as superior and emulate [his] instructions as ruler”). Moreover, the positive influence of these effects reaches foreign “barbarian” communities, doing so through a natural osmosis, rather than through any concerted canvassing effort. (It is reaffirmed by the couplet from “Min Lao” 民勞 [The Commonfolk are Burdened] that there is a close relationship between the state of society in the central domains directly under the ruler’s governance and the state of society in domains beyond.) The passage concludes that all this is achieved simply because this ruler “[promotes] his sincere heart and [spreads] it out [through] the realm.” The excerpt goes on, affirming the superiority of governance-by-sincerity over the usual tools of governance. 太王亶父處邠，狄人攻之，杖策而去。百姓攜幼扶老，負釜甑，踰梁山，而國乎岐周，非令之所能召也。秦穆公為野人食駿馬肉之傷也，飲之美酒，韓之戰，以其死力報，非券之所責也。密子治亶父，巫馬期往觀化焉，見夜漁者，得小即釋之，非刑之所能禁也。孔子為魯司寇，道不拾遺，市買不豫賈，田漁皆讓長，而辬白不戴負，非法之所能致也。夫矢之所以射遠貫牢者，弩力也；其所以中的剖微者，正心也；賞善罰㬥者，政令也；其所以能行者，精誠也。故弩雖强，不能獨中；令雖明，不能獨行。 354 354 He, Jishi, 1383–4. 166 [When] King Tai Danfu was situated in Bin and the Di attacked it, he departed leaning on his cane. [With] the common folk leading the young by the hand and supporting the elderly, shouldering cooking pans and steaming pots, they crossed over Mount Liang and [set up] a walled city in Qi Zhou.355 This is not [something] that decrees could muster. [When] Duke Mu of Qin furnished the hinterland people with fine wine [to drink] on account of his pain at [seeing] them feeding on the meat of fine steeds, they recompensed [him] with their ultimate effort at the battle of Han[yuan]. 356 This is not [something] that bonds could demand. [When] Fuzi governed Danfu, Wuma Qi went to observe the transformations [brought] by him. He saw [how] those who fished by night would catch small [fish] only to release them.357 This is not [something] that punishments could forbid. [When] Confucius was the Minister of Criminal Affairs for Lu, [passers-by] did not pick up [things] lost on the road and [vendors] did not hike the prices up at market. In hunting and fishing, all yielded to [their] seniors, and the white-haired [elders] were not laden with burdens. This is not [something] that laws could impel. As a principle, [although] the means by which arrows fly far to pierce through hard [materials] is the power of the crossbow, the means by which they strike the mark and slice through the minute is the rectified heart. [While] rewarding goodness and penalising violence are decrees of governance, the means by which they can be applied is rarefied sincerity. King Tai Danfu refers to the historical King Tai of Zhou 周太王, grandfather of King Wen and great-grandfather of King Wu. His ascension and reign, including moving the Zhou tribe from Bin 邠 (also spelled 豳) to a new capital Qi Zhou 岐周 at the foot of Mount Qi 岐, is described in the “Zhou Annals”, Shiji, 113–6. The Hanshu section “Biographies of the Xiongnu” (“Xiongnu zhuan” 匈奴傳) also gives an account: “the way of the Xia declined, and Duke Liu lost his office of agriculture, rebelled against the Xirong, and [established] a capital at Bin. After over three hundred years following that, the Rongdi attacked King Tai Danfu; Danfu fled away to the foot of [Mount] Qi, and the people of Bin all followed Danfu, [establishing] a capital there, making the Zhou.” (“夏道衰，而公劉失其稷官，變于西戎，邑于豳。其後三百有餘歲，戎狄攻太王亶父，亶父亡走于岐下，豳人悉從亶父而邑焉，作周。” Hanshu, 3744.) Bin was possibly located in modern-day Xunyi 旬邑 district in Bin 彬 county, western Shaanxi 陝西; Qizhou is located in modern-day Qishan 岐山 in Baoji 寶雞 prefecture, also western Shaanxi. 356 The historical Duke Mu (also spelled 繆) was a prince of Qin (r. 659–621 BC). His reign is described in the “Qin Annals”, Shiji, 185–94, with pages 188–9 specifically addressing the battle at Hanyuan 韓原 of 645 BC, in which he fought against the Jin, as well as the events precipitating this. Hanyuan is located in modern day Hancheng 韓城 in Shaanxi. 357 Fuzi refers to Fu Buqi 宓不齊 (b. 521 BC), courtesy name Zijian 子賤, a disciple of Confucius. Danfu (also spelled Shanfu 單父) was a small fief in Lu 魯, located at modern-day Shan 單 county in Shandong 山東. Wuma Qi (also spelled 巫馬施 or 巫馬旗), also a disciple of Confucius, was one of Zijian’s ministers. The episode described here is recorded in Kongzi jiayu 孔子家語 (Family Sayings of Confucius); see Wang Su 王肅, Kongzi jiayu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1990), 93–5. 355 167 Thus, even when the crossbow is strong, it cannot strike [the mark] unassisted; even when decrees are clear, they cannot be applied unassisted. The text first showcases the examples of four sage leaders, each of whom achieved a behavioural outcome among the populace that would be unobtainable through usual tools of government (decrees, punishments, etc.) alone. The excerpt explains that, where the usual tools of government do have applications, their utility is still contingent upon the ruler’s demonstration of “rarefied sincerity”. Much how the direction of the virtuoso archer’s rectified heart is needed to transform the force of the crossbow into a perfect shot, the direction of the sincere ruler is needed to realise the potential of the usual tools of government. The final part of the extract explicitly gestures toward the metaphysical foundations of the effectiveness of governance-by-sincerity. 必自精氣所以與之施道。故攄道以被民，而民弗從者，誠心弗施也。 358 It must be from rarefied qi that one propagates the dao with them (decrees). Thus, [when] one spreads out the dao to cover the people, if they do not follow it, it is because a sincere heart does not spread it [to them]. In the ruler’s task of “applying” or “spreading” the dao among the polity with decrees, “it must be [done] from rarefied qi”. This refers to total resonance: apprehending the singular connectedness of un-differentiated (“rarefied”) qi, a ruler meets no lag or obstruction in acting upon “other” forms, with which they constitute a whole, thereby influencing both society home and abroad without limit. As the passage reaffirms, it is only through sincerity that this is achieved (“if [the people] do not follow it, it is because a sincere heart does not spread it [to them].”) 358 He, Jishi, 1384. 168 Overall, this extract makes it clear that governance-by-sincerity effectively refers to governing through total resonance. While the usual tools of government work through the familiar natural order of sorted forms and so are bound by its laws and limits, precluding certain outcomes, the sincere ruler, gleaning great connectedness, bypasses this order entirely to unlock the possibility of realising their will in the realm without the limitation. They appear passive from within the familiar natural order as a result. I reaffirm the validity of this analysis with one final piece of evidence from the text. The following “Tai Zu Xun” extract, also taken from the second half of the chapter, recounts the arc of Wu of Zhou, who led the Zhou in conquering the ruling Shang. This extract stands to represent the many histories of legendary rulers exemplifying governance-by-sincerity that make up the bulk of the second half of “Tai Zu Xun”. 周處酆、鎬之地方不過百里，而誓紂牧之野，入據殷國。朝成湯之廟，表商容之閭，封比干之墓，解箕子之囚，乃折枹毀鼓，偃五兵，縱牛馬，搢笏而朝天下，百姓謌謳而樂之，諸矦執禽而朝之，得民心也。 359 When the Zhou were situated at Feng and Hao, 360 the area [between them] did not surpass a hundred li, and yet [Wu] gave his harangue against Zhou [at] the hinterlands of Mu and entered and seized the city of Yin. He [offered] a sacrifice at the ancestral temple of Cheng and Tang, [installed] a plaque at the gate of Shang Rong,361 raised an earthen mound [over] the tomb of Bi Gan, and released Jizi from imprisonment. 362 He thereupon snapped the drumsticks and destroyed the drums, retired the five weapons, set free the He, Jishi, 1415–6. Feng 酆 (also spelled 豐 or 灃) and Hao 鎬 are located at the modern-day site of the twin city of Fenghao 灃鎬, near Xi’an 西安 in Shaanxi. 361 According to legend, the historical Shang Rong (c. twelfth century BC) fled his post as a high official at the court of King Zhou of Shang after giving a poorly-received critique of the latter’s licentious behaviour. An in-depth biography is included in Huangfu Mi’s Diwang shiji 帝王世紀 (Records of Emperors and Kings); see Xu Zongyuan 徐宗元, Diwang shiji jicun 帝王世紀輯存 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1964), 89. 362 The historical Bi Gan (c. twelfth century BC) was alleged to be Zhou of Shang’s uncle and ultimately was executed by his nephew. Jizi (c. twelfth century BC), another relative of the king, was imprisoned by the latter after remonstrating with him for the execution of Bi Gan. An account of these events is given in “Song Weizi shijia” 宋微子世家 (“Hereditary House of Song Weizi”), Shiji, 1609– 10, and the pair’s punishments are attested in the Analects (Lunyu 論語), among other pre-Qin sources. See Cheng Shude 程樹德, Lunyu jishi 論語集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), 1247. 359 360 169 oxen and horses, inserted the ceremonial tablet [in his waistband] and governed over the realm. The common folk made songs and ballads to rejoice in him, the various feudal lords took beasts to pay court to him, and he obtained the people’s hearts. By the metrics of the familiar natural order, the smaller Zhou state, not even surpassing a hundred li across, should not have offered any match for the ruling Shang. However, by demonstrating sincerity, which is to say, gleaning the great connectedness of the world, Wu would have become able to instantly affect any and all forms in the realm (and beyond.) Unencumbered by the limitations that hamper action through the familiar order, he effortlessly overcame the Shang at the battle of Mu to secure a comprehensive victory, as witnessed in the remainder of the extract: he performed a sacrifice at the ancestral temple as king, undid Shang’s censures against the worthies Shang Rong, Bi Gan, and Jizi, made the gesture of rusticating the armies and cavalry, and presided over the realm as ruler. It was seen that the realm assented to this regime change, with commoners and lords alike demonstrating their fealty to Wu. Overall, an arc like Wu of Zhou’s is testimony to what is possible for a political leader who demonstrates sincerity. 170 Conclusion “Tai Zu Xun” defines the nature of governance through “sincerity”. According to the interpretation presented in this chapter, sincerity refers to the cognitive effort of overcoming one’s default experience of the world as a rigid arrangement of finite sorted forms to apprehend it instead as an infinite and infinitely-divisible unity of un-differentiated (“rarefied”) qi. Apprehending this, one is able to act upon any and all forms, without limit, through the “great connectedness” of this un-differentiated qi. In short, “sincerity” enables total resonance. And as seen in the extracts above, a ruler who demonstrates sincerity is able to govern through the same mechanism, bypassing the obstructions and hindrances built into the structure of the familiar natural order that afflict traditional instruments of government. At multiple points throughout the “Tai Zu Xun” extracts explored here, sincerity was equated with sage-hood (sheng 聖) and sage governance (consider, for example, the extended extract beginning “[When] a sage-ruler is positioned above…”.) The extract on page 162 also explicitly states that supranatural operations of “heaven”, which I take to correspond to great connectedness, find their analogue in the activities of the sage. The point is emphasised by its central placement within a tight parallel stanza, here arranged to clarify the text structure: 其生物也，莫見其所養而物長；其殺物也，莫見其所喪而物亡。此之謂神明。聖人象之，故其起福也，不見其所由而福起；其除禍也，不見其所以而禍除。363 When it (heaven) gives birth to forms, in no case does it show [the way] that it nourishes [them] and yet forms [still] grow; 363 He, Jishi, 1373. 171 When it kills forms, in no case does it show [the way] that it loses [them] and yet forms [still] perish. It is this that we call “numinous brightness”; the sage resembles this, Thus, when it engenders good fortune, it does not show what it derives [this] from and [still] good fortune is engendered; When it clears away catastrophe, it does not show what it uses and [still] catastrophe is cleared away. In short, a sage is a sincere-hearted individual, and vice-versa. The introduction to “Tai Zu Xun” in the Pléiade edition makes a similar statement, asserting that the sage’s relationship to the natural world is one of “mimesis or imitation.”364 However, according to my interpretation, to say that the sincere-hearted individual mimics or analogises the world is only part of the story. “Sincerity” amounts to a conscious revelation that one is a part of a fractal whole. As discussed above, the fractal part is also the entire whole. As such, it is not just that the sincere-hearted individual is like the world, but more to this, they also are the world. And if the sincere-hearted individual is the world, then “sincerity” more precisely refers to the world apprehending its own infinitely connected nature. The resonance phenomena that becomes possible as a result accordingly refers to the conscious interaction of this connected whole with itself, as discussed in the conclusion to the previous chapter. Following this analysis, “governance-by-sincerity” refers to a political realm that realises itself as the world. This gives deeper expression to an observation levied in the Pléiade edition’s introductory essay to “Tai Zu Xun”, which draws comparison with the cosmologising of politics in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics.365 Overall, this analysis cements my interpretation of the complete Huainanzi as embodying a fractal world that has the capacity to “observe” its own fractality. “Le rapport […] entre le saint et la nature, est défini par l’auteur comme une forme de mimesis ou d’imitation.” Bai Gang et al., Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2, 943. 365 Ibid., 941–2. 364 172 Chapter Six: Wu Cheng 武成 (War’s Completion) I The present chapter offers an interpretation of Wu Cheng, which, to recap, appears under the Zhou Shu section of the Old Text Shangshu. Wu Cheng narrates the actions of King Wu immediately preceding and following his usurpation of the Shang. I argue that, even where certain aspects of the text don’t quite fit into the paradigm of a shu text, Wu Cheng as a whole manifests this paradigm. The chapter has three parts. The first part forms a close reading of the complete Wu Cheng. In this reading, I show how the text’s different sections (as I circumscribe these for the purposes of analysis) manifest different types of textual authority. (The translation from this part of the present chapter should be consulted in reference to the next chapter, “Wu Cheng II”.) The second part forms an analysis of the overarching narrative structure. I show how the complete text centres King Wu’s direct speech by elegantly restructuring the chronology of the events that it narrates. In the third part, I propose a paradigm of shu texts and assess the extent to which the various sections manifest this. Bringing the analysis across the three parts together, I argue that, even though certain sections of Wu Cheng don’t quite fit into the paradigm, Wu Cheng as a whole, by documenting, elevating, and aestheticising the context and content of kingly speech, does manifests the paradigmatic shu text. As explored in chapter One, Wu Cheng has been incorrectly overlooked as a forgery since the late imperial period. The readings in this and the following chapter join recent work challenging this classification by rectifying the paucity of research on the Old Text in its own right. 173 Part One: Types of textual authority This first part of the present chapter forms a close reading of the complete Wu Cheng, showing how its different sections manifest different types of textual authority. On the morning of guisi 癸巳, the day after the day of a nearly-waxing moon in the first lunar month (renchen 壬辰), King Wu leads his forces from Zhou to launch their insurgency against the Shang.366 惟一月壬辰，旁死魄。越翼日癸巳，王朝步自周于征伐商。 367 During the first month, renchen368 was nearly a waxing moon.369 Passing to the next On the matter of shu texts referring to insurgents as “king” (wang) before their victory and ascension, see the discussion in Chapter Three, pages 88–9. 367 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341. 368 Renchen is day 29 in the sexagenary (ganzhi 干支) cycle. The sub-commentary attributed to Kong Yingda asserts that renchen here corresponds to the second day of the first month of the Zhou lunar calendar. It reasons that the year of the (historical) Zhou conquest was a leap year, so the first day (new moon, shuo 朔) of the first month would have been xinmao 辛卯 (day 28), with the first day of the second month then being gengyin 庚寅 (day 27), the first day of the third month being gengshen 庚申 (day 57), and the first day of the fourth month being jichou 己丑 (day 26); see Shangshu Zhengyi, 341–2. In contrast, Yan Ruoqu asserts that the first day of the third month in the year of the Zhou conquest would have been jiwei 己未 (day 56). See Shuzheng, 322. At several points, the Wu Cheng narrative describes an event that corresponds to a known historical event, where it can be seen that the dates assigned in the narrative cannot be shown to match up to established dates for the historical counterpart. A large part of Yan Ruoqu’s work in Shuzheng, along with other key “empirical” studies of Wu Cheng, involves identifying such discrepancies between the text’s temporal markers and corresponding historical dates (as well as internal inconsistencies among the text’s temporal markers.) Inconsistencies like these have often been taken as evidence of Wu Cheng’s “counterfeit” (wei) nature; refer to the discussion chapter One. 369 Broadly speaking, there are two sets of terminology for the phases of lunation in premodern China. In the first of these systems, po 魄 refers to the dark or unilluminated part of the moon, while ming 明 refers to the bright or illuminated part of the moon. In this instance, sipo 死魄 “dying darkness” would refer to a waxing moon, while shengpo 生魄 “growing darkness” would refer to a waning moon. However, in a second system of terminology seen in the bronze text corpus, po (written 霸) had the opposite meaning, referring to the illuminated part of the moon. See Shaughnessy, Sources of Western Zhou History, 136–7; and David W. Pankenier, “Reflections of the Lunar Aspect on Western Chou Chronology,” T’oung Pao Second Series 78.1/3 (1992): 33–76. The terminology in 366 174 day, guisi,370 the King marched from Zhou in the morning in an expedition to attack the Shang.371 A few months later, once the insurgency has been successfully completed, and as the moon begins to wax during the fourth lunar month, Wu arrives in the city of Feng 豐, far to the west of Shang.372 厥四月，哉生明，王來自商，至于豐。乃偃武修文，歸馬于華山之陽，放牛于桃林之野，示天下弗服。373 In the fourth month, [once] it was a newly waxing [moon],374 the king came from Shang and arrived in Feng.375 this system includes chuji 初吉 “first auspiciousness”, jishengpo 旣生霸 “as the brightness [begins to] grow”, jiwang 旣望 “just after the full moon”, and jisipo 旣死霸 “as the brightness [begins to] die”. As Shaughnessy explains, several theories presently exist to explain the bronzes’ lunation terminology, each with their own drawbacks. The theory in which he expresses the most confidence is Wang Guowei’s “lunar-quarter theory” (sifen shuo 四分說), which claims that the terms refer to the four quarters of the moon, which in turn correspond to four periods of seven or eight days. (Chuji would represent days 1 to 7 or 8, jishengpo days 8 or 9 to 14 or 15, jiwang 15 or 16 to 22 or 23, and jisipo days 23 to the end of the lunation.) See Shaughnessy, Sources, 137–43, and Wang Guowei, “Shengpo sipo kao” 生霸死霸考, in Guantang jilin 觀堂集林, 19–26 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959). In the Wu Cheng passage here, the term ming appears in reference to lunation. On this basis, I take it that the first system of terminology is in use in Wu Cheng, such that po refers to the dark part of the moon. 370 Day 30 in the sexagenary cycle. On the use of this cycle in the dating conventions of shu texts, see Yegor Grebnev, “The Case of Texts with Speeches.” 371 For Zhou as a historical location, see note 355, page 167 in the previous chapter. For the historical settlement of the Shang, see note 212, page 87 in chapter Three. 372 The site of the historical city of Feng is approximately 400 miles to the west of the historical settlement of the Shang. 373 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341. 374 According to the commentary attributed to Kong Anguo, zai 哉 should be read as shi 始 (once, only then). While the commentary asserts that this state of the moon corresponds to the third day in the month (“始生明，月三日,” Ibid.), there is not adequate information in the text to be sure of this, given that the waxing period in a lunar month can be taken to run for a period as long as from the beginning of the cycle until the fifteenth or so day. 375 Yan Ruoqu advises that while the text “takes ‘in the fourth month, [once] it was a newly waxing [moon]’ as [the time when] the King arrived at Feng, there is nothing on which to base an explanation 175 He thereupon set aside martiality and cultivated culture, Sending the horses back to the South side of Mount Hua, 376 Setting the oxen loose in the hinterlands of Peach Forest, 377 378 Displaying to the realm how he would no longer bridle them. Wu “[sets] aside martiality” by resettling horses – presumably the cavalry used in the recent battle – on the South side of Mount Hua. Paralleling this, he “[cultivates] culture” by placing oxen out to graze on the wild hinterlands of Peach Forest, thereby bringing this area into the scope of the territory cultivated by the Zhou. These parallel actions indicate that Wu intends to make no further use of the beasts in battle; he is an otherwise peace-loving ruler who engaged in the recent insurgency as a matter of necessity. Moreover, so effective was his insurgency that there is no risk of further conflict. Furthermore, the couplet “Sending the horses back… / Setting the oxen loose…” exhibits a parallel syntax ([verb][noun]于[place noun]之[noun]), as well as forming an interlocking structure with the preceding line, wherein “martiality” corresponds to the first line of the couplet, and “culture” refers to the second. (I make this structure clearer by offsetting the text.) Next, during the same month, on day dingwei 丁未, Wu conducts a sacrifice at the Zhou ancestral temple. for this” (“以四月哉生明為王至于豐，其說既無所本。” Shuzheng, 322.) On Feng as a historical geographical site, see note 360, page 169 in the previous chapter. 376 One of the Five Sacred Mountains (Wu yue 五岳 or 五嶽) described in the “Xishanjing” chapter in Shanhaijing. See Yuan Ke 袁珂, Shanhaijing jiaozhu 山海經校注 (Chengdu: Bashu shushe, 1992), 24; 38. There is a Mount Hua located to the south of the modern-day city of Huayin 華陰 in Shaanxi province. 377 According to the Kong Anguo commentary, Peach Forest is to the east of Mount Hua (Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341.) The Kong Yingda commentary cites Du Yu to explain that Peach Forest refers to the strategic pass of Tongguan 潼關 in Huayin 華陰 county, Hongnong 宏農 (also 弘農) prefecture (“桃林之塞，今宏農華陰縣潼關是也.” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 343.) Modern-day Tongguan is located in Shaanxi province, only a dozen miles to the east of Huayin. Peach Forest is also described in the “Zhongshanjing” 中山經 (“Classic of the Central Mountains”) section of the Shanhaijing. See Yuan, Shanhaijing, 168–9. 378 The Kong Anguo commentary states that neither Mount Hua nor Peach Forest is a place where oxen and horses are typically reared (Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341.) According to the Shanhaijing, mythical creatures reside there. 176 丁未，祀于周廟，邦甸、侯、衛，駿奔走，執豆籩。 379 On dingwei,380 he sacrificed [at] the Zhou ancestral temple; [nobles of] the domain protectorates, marquisates, and garrisons greatly rushed out [to the temple],381 and held dou and bian [vessels].382 The nobles of various protectorates, marquisates, and garrisons in the Zhou domain “[rush] out” from their own regional seats, taking up ritual utensils (dou and bian vessels) to join Wu in sacrifice. They are the leaders of relatively self-governing regions, and so their hurrying to participate personally in a ritual affirming Wu’s authority represents an enthusiastic display of fealty and subservience, signalling the strength of his mandate. Three days later, on gengxu, Wu performs the firewood (chai 柴) and distant (wang 望) sacrifices and makes a grand announcement of the war’s completion. 越三日庚戌，柴望，大告武成。383 After three days, on gengxu, he performed the firewood and distant [sacrifices],384 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341. Day 44. 381 The Zhouli lists six Subservient Regions (fu 服) of increasing distance from the ruler’s residence, the capital (wangji 王畿): the marquisate (houfu 侯服), the [royal] protectorate (dianfu 甸服), the barony (nanfu 男服), the appanage (caifu 采服), the garrison (weifu 衛服), and various restricted areas (yaofu 要服). See Sun Yirang 孫詒讓, Zhouli zhengyi 周禮正義 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987), 2684. These appear in a different order in Wu Cheng. 382 Dou is a stemmed bowl; bian is a container for dried foodstuffs. 383 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341. 384 Gengxu is day 47. However, Yan Ruoqu points out that in other shu texts, the term “after” (yue 越) refers to a different way of counting passing days compared with what is seen here: “the ancients had a single definitive format for writing down times and recording events. In the Shao Gao chapter, bingwu (day 43) in the third month was a crescent moon, and ‘after’ (yue) three days, it was then wushen (day 45). In the Gu Ming chapter, ‘on dingmao (day 4), he ordered the charge to be written on tablets,’ and ‘after’ (yue) seven days, it was then guiyou (day 10). From before up until today, that which is referred to as ‘after (yue) three [days]’ and ‘[after] seven days’ has simply always been the third day and the seventh day; it is not that [the texts] are deviating by a day in their count. Now, [the king] sacrificed at the Zhou ancestral temple once it was dingwei (day 44). When he then performed the chai and wang rites ‘after’ (yue) three days, it would have been jiyou (day 46) – how could it have been gengxu (day 47)?” (“古人之書時記事有一定之體，召誥篇惟三月丙午朏，越三日則為戊申，顧命篇丁卯命作冊度，越七日則為癸酉，所謂越三日七日者，皆從前至今為三日七日耳，非離其日而數之也。今丁未既祀於周廟矣，越三日柴望則為已酉，豈庚戌乎？” Shuzheng, 379 380 177 and grandly announced the war’s completion.385 As explained in the commentary attributed to Kong Anguo, the “firewood” and “distant” sacrifices rites involve “[burning] firewood [sacrificing] to heaven from the suburbs, and from a distance [sacrificing] to the mountains and streams.” 386 These are procedures through 322.) In sum, it is jiyou 已酉 (day 46), not gengxu, that should fall “‘after’ three days” (“越三日”) beginning from dingwei (day 44). 385 The opening passage of Wu Cheng running from the beginning of the text up to “…大告武成” here has a corresponding passage in Liu Xin’s San tong li 三統厤 (Three-System Calendar). San tong li is reproduced in the “Technical monographs on tonometrological standards and mathematical astronomy” (“Lülizhi” 律歷志) section of Hanshu, where the passage in question is attributed to “the Book of Zhou Wu Cheng” (“周書武成篇”): “In the first month, on renchen (day 29), it was nearly a waxing moon. Then the next day [was] guisi (day 30). King Wu thereupon marched from Zhou (周) in the morning, in an expedition to attack Zhou (紂). He verily spoke that, come the second month, it would be a waxing moon. After five days [it was] jiazi (day 1), and [they] totally destroyed King Zhou of Shang. In the fourth month, it was nearly a waning moon. After six days [it was] gengxu (day 47). King Wu lit a [ceremonial] fire at the Zhou ancestral temple. The next day [was] xinhai (day 48). He offered a sacrifice at the throne of heaven. After five days [it was] yimao (day 52). Thereupon the multitude of territories offered the severed ears of their enemies in sacrifice at the Zhou ancestral temple.” (“周書武成篇: ‘惟一月壬辰，旁死霸，若翌日癸巳，武王乃朝步自周，于征伐紂。[…] ‘粵若來三月，既死霸，粵五日甲子，咸劉商王紂。[…] ‘惟四月既旁生霸，粵六日庚戌，武王燎于周廟。翌日辛亥，祀于天位。粵五日乙卯，乃以庶國祀馘于周廟。’” Hanshu, 1015–6. Reproduced in Yan, Shuzheng, 322.) Christopher Cullen has translated San tong li along with two other Han-era mathematical astronomy (li 曆) procedure texts preserved in the dynastic histories, Bin Xin’s 編訢 and Li Fan’s 李梵 Sifen li 四分曆 in the Hou Hanshu, and Liu Hong’s 劉洪 (c.130–c.210) Qianxiang li 乾象曆 in Jinshu 晉書 (Book of the Jin). See The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chinese Astronomical Systems (Scientific Writings from the Ancient and Medieval World) (London: Routledge, 2016), 32–355. 386 “燔柴郊天，望祀山川.” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 341. Both sacrifices are mentioned in Shun Dian, Ibid., 65; 71. For the practice of firewood (chai) sacrifices (in the late Shang dynasty), see Chen Jie 陳絜, “Buci zhong de Chai ji yu Chai di” 卜辭中的祡祭與柴地, Zhongyuan wenhua yanjiu 中原文化研究 (Feb. 2018): 89–96. For the practice of the distant (wang) sacrifice (in the early imperial period), see Ming-chiu Lai, “Legitimation of Qin-Han China: From the Perspective of the Feng and Shan Sacrifices (206 B.C.–A.D. 220),” in The Legitimation of New Orders: Case Studies in World History, ed. Philip Yuen-sang Leung, 1–26 (Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press, 2007) 13–5, and Chen Shuguo, “State Religious Ceremonies,” in Early Chinese Religion, Part Two: The Period of Division (220-589 AD): Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 4, China, 2 vols., ed. John Lagerwey and Pengzhi Lü, 51–142 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 95–6, including footnotes. According to Lai, the distant sacrifice was “an offering to the mountains and rivers, [which] would also have been practiced during the performance of the feng [封] sacrifice.” (“Legitimation,” 14.) For the practice of the feng sacrifice during the Han, see Lai’s full chapter and Marianne Bujard, “State and local cults in Han religion,” in Lagerwey and Kalinowski, Early Chinese Religion, Part One, 777–812. 178 which a ruler ritually engages heaven, sacred mountains, and other divinities. As such, both here and in the preceding extract, the proper performance of rites by both Wu and subordinate sovereign lords affirm the former’s position and mandate as king, underscoring the transition to a new status quo where all in the realm submit to him. Once the moon begins to wane in the same (fourth) month, sovereign lords of various domains under Zhou rule and numerous Zhou officials assemble to receive their directives. 既生魄，庶邦冢君暨百工受命于周。 387 Once [the moon] was newly waning, the hereditary rulers of the multitude of domains and the hundredfold officials received their directives from Zhou. 388 Wu proceeds to address the assembled rulers directly, whereupon he gives his grand announcement on the war’s completion. 王若曰：「嗚呼，羣后！惟先王建邦啟土，公劉克篤前烈，至于大王，肇基王迹，王季其勤王家。我文考文王克成厥勳，誕膺天命以撫方夏。大邦畏其力，小邦懷其德。惟九年，大統未集，予小子其承厥志。 389 The king seemingly said,390 “Wuhu, [you] gathered sovereigns!391 It was the former monarch that established the domain and opened up the land. Duke Liu was able to Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 343. The Kong Anguo commentary places the issuing of the directives fifteen days after the moon begins to wane, at the end of the lunar month. However, “waning” can refer to a period that runs from the sixteenth day of lunation to the end of the month, and there is inadequate information in the text to identify a more precise timeframe than this. According to the commentary, Gu Yanwu advises that the sixteenth day of the fourth month in the year of the Zhou conquest corresponds to gengxu (day 47). Contrast this with the Kong Yingda commentary, which claims that jichou (day 26) corresponds to the first day of the fourth month; this would then make jiachen 甲辰 (day 42), the sixteenth day of the month. Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 343. 389 Ibid., 343–5. 390 Regarding the meaning of wang ruo yue 王若曰 (“The king seemingly said”), see note 440, page 199. 391 Not all of these figures were true monarchs during their supposed lifetimes. Wu honours them as kings posthumously. 387 388 179 deepen his forebear’s illustrious [achievements]. 392 Coming [down] to [the time of] King Dai (Tai), he installed and erected a legacy of kingship, and King Ji toiled [establishing] the royal household. My accomplished late father King Wen was able to complete his [meritorious] exploits. He grandly undertook heaven’s directive, thereby pacifying the [four] directions and our great land. Large domains feared his strength; small domains embraced his virtue. Nine years [later],393 the great unification was [still] not yet brought [to completion],394 and it seemed that I, the little one, would carry out his ambition. Wu enumerates the achievements of five former Zhou rulers, describing how each consolidated and built upon the achievements of his successor(s). First, “the former monarch,” referring to Hou Ji 后稷, “established the domain and opened up the land,” bringing forth the minimal conditions for civilisation. Duke Liu 公劉 subsequently “[deepened]” these “illustrious [achievements]”; according to the traditional account, he established a new settlement for the clan at Bin 豳.395 King Dai 大王 (referring to King Tai Danfu 太王亶父) “installed and erected a legacy of kingship”; according to tradition, he established a new capital at Mount Qi 岐, marking the emergence of a Zhou clan independent of the Shang.396 From there, Tai’s son, King Ji 王季, instituted the royal household. Lastly, According to the legend described in the “Zhou benji” in the Shiji, Duke Liu was Hou Ji’s successor by several generations: “even though Duke Liu was among the Rong-Di [tribes], he compounded and restored the achievements of Hou Ji” (“公劉雖在戎狄之間，復修后稷之業。”) See Shiji, 112. 393 Following his inauguration of a new reign period. The Kong Yingda commentary explains, “the various nobles returned [their allegiance] to [King Wen], and he enacted a [reign] title change [marking] the first year [of a new reign]. Nine years after, he died.” (“諸侯歸之，改稱元年。至九年而卒。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 344.) 394 Da tong 大統 (“great unification”) is a later concept with no precedent in the pre-imperial corpus. The earliest use I can find is in Kongzi jiayu, which is no earlier than early Han. See Wang, Kongzi jiayu, 59. The Kong commentary glosses this with the far more ambiguous term da ye 大業, “great achievement”. 395 See note 355, page 167 in the previous chapter. 396 There are many references to this legend in the classical corpus, see for example the Shijing ode “Bi Gong” 閟宮 (“Stilled Temple”): “The descendant of Hou Ji, verily was he king Dai. He dwelled on the south side of Qi, [where] verily he began to cut away from the Shang. Coming [down] to [the time of] Wen and Wu, they continued the cause of king Dai.” (“后稷之孫、實維大王。居岐之陽、實始翦商。至于文武、纘大王之緒。”) Zheng Xuan comments, “King Dai went on foot from Bin to take up residence on the south side of [Mount] Qi, and commoners from the four directions all returned [their allegiance to him] and went there. It was from that time that there was a legacy of 392 180 Wu’s father, King Wen 文王, “was able to complete his [meritorious] exploits.” While Wu offers one clause of comment for each of the four earlier rulers, he describes Wen’s achievements over four clauses, suggesting Wen’s multiplication of the earlier four’s more basic achievements. Endowed with “heaven’s directive,” Wen took the institutions developed by his forebears and extended their civilising influence; he was able to “[pacify]” both “our great land,” referring to the Zhou, and more distant domains to “the [four] directions” – North, South, East, and West – beyond the geographical limits of Zhou culture. He moreover achieved a uniformity of subservience across these heterogenous domains, subduing the larger ones with “his strength” and inspiring the smaller ones to submit to him on account of “his virtue.” In spite of these achievements, a “unification” project still remained unfinished at the time of Wen’s death. This likely refers to the legend of Wen’s unfulfilled aspiration to overthrow the Shang. 397 This “ambition,” Wu explains, then fell to him to “carry out.” Wu’s address to the assembled lords then continues. Where the previous part discussed the former Zhou patriarchs, Wu now refers to another authority: natural and extra-human forces. He recalls how, while en route to decimate the Shang (per Wen’s wishes, following his death), he gave a speech to the deities of “august heaven”, “sovereign earth”, and “the famous mountains and great river that [he] passed.” He then begins to recount the speech. 厎商之罪，告于皇天、后土、所過名山、大川，曰：『惟有道曾孫周王發，將有大正于商。398 kingship, thus it is said that this is [the time when the Zhou clan] began to break away from the Shang.” (“大王自豳徒居岐陽, 四方之民咸歸往之, 於時而有王迹, 故云是始斷商。” Wang Xianqian 王先謙, Shi sanjiayi jishu 詩三家義集疏 [Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987], 1079.) See note 355, page 167 in the previous chapter for both King Tai Danfu and Qi as an historical geographical location. The term wangji 王迹 (also 王跡; legacy of kingship) is also used in Shiji. See Shiji, 760, 3306, and 3319. 397 For the traditional account of this, see Ibid., 116–9. He also moved the Zhou capital from the foot of Mount Qi to Feng. 398 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 345. 181 I relayed the crimes of Shang, announcing [these] to august heaven, to sovereign earth, and to the famous mountains and great river that I passed, 399 saying, ‘It is Fa, king of Zhou, by generations of descendants, [who] has the way, [by whom] there will be a great rectification to Shang.’ In the opening block of this embedded speech, Wu identifies himself as “Fa, king of Zhou, by generations of descendants, [who] has the way.” His hereditary identification with this title recalls the previous narrative layer, where he situated himself as inheritor to the cultural project of the pioneering Zhou rulers. It is in this context that Wu asserts that he “has the way,” before pledging that “there will be a great rectification to Shang.” In the next block of the speech, Wu “[relays] the crimes of Shang” as a conceptually- and formally-unitary set of four criticisms. 今商王受無道，暴殄天物，害虐烝民，為天下逋逃主，萃淵藪。400 Now, Shou, King of Shang, Lacks the way, Does violence to and decimates heaven’s creatures, Maims and oppresses the teeming masses, And serves as master to the realm’s outlaws and fugitives, who gather [like fish] in dens in the deep.401 The Kong Anguo commentary explains that “sovereign earth” is the god of the soil (she 社). The Kong Yingda commentary supplements, “going to Shang from Zhou, the road passes the Yellow River and [Mount] Hua, thus it is known that the famous mountain and great river he passed would have been the peaks of Hua and the Yellow River.” (“此告皇天后土… […] 自周適商，路過河華，故知所過名山華嶽、大川河也。” Ibid.) The phrase “所過山川” (“the mountains and rivers that he passed”) appears in the Liji. See Sun, Liji jijie, 511. 400 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 345. 401 The phrase “紂為天下逋逃主，萃淵藪” (“Zhou serves as master to the realm’s outlaws and fugitives, who gather [like fish] in dens in the deep”) appears in the Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan. See Hong Liangji 洪亮吉, Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan gu 春秋左傳詁 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987), 677. 399 182 First, Wu accuses the Shang king of “lacking the way” (“無道”). Next, he asserts that the king “does violence to and decimates heaven’s creatures,” and additionally “maims and oppresses the teeming masses.” These two points share the syntactic structure [verb1][verb2][object]. Their verbs are relatively synonymous (“does violence to and decimates”, “maims and oppresses”), while their objects – animals (“heaven’s creatures”) and people (“teeming masses”) – are complimentary, 402 and both objects are constructed as disyllabic subordinate noun phrases. So overall, these two points lock together as a parallel pair. Finally, Wu claims that the Shang king “serves as master to the realm’s outlaws and fugitives,” supplementing this accusation with the image of fish gathering in dens deep in murky waters. This visual metaphor not only presents these criminals as less than men, but also evokes the claustrophobic, conspiratorial atmosphere of the Shang court. Overall, with these four points, Wu levies four complementary criticisms of his antagonist, each targeting a specific aspect of his misbehaviour. This conceptually-unitary set is moreover structurally unified, balanced around the highly-integrated parallelism at its core, shared between the second and third points. (I highlight this parallel structure by offsetting the text.) The first point accusing Zhou of “lacking the way” (“無道”) moreover contrasts with Wu’s prior description of himself one who, as inheritor to the ancient cultural project of the Zhou house through of “generations” of pioneering rulers, “has the way” (“有道”), in the final line of the preceding block. This parallelism locks the second block, criticising the Shang, in place following the first block, opening Wu’s embedded speech. The third block of the embedded speech builds upon the first and second. Note that the Kong Yingda commentary asserts that the category “heaven’s creatures” includes humans. Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 345. 402 183 予小子既獲仁人敢祗承上帝，以遏亂略。華夏蠻貊，罔不率俾，恭天成命。 403 I, the little one, having obtained humane men, [now] have the temerity to reverently assent to the thearch-on-high and put a halt to the disorder and plundering thereby. 404 [Among] the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes, 405 none do not follow and obey [me], revering heaven’s completed directive. The “great rectification to Shang” mentioned in the first block of this embedded speech is glossed as the clearing away of the Shang’s “disorder and plundering,” the details of which were explored in the second block. Wu reaffirms that he, “the little one,” will take a leading role in this operation, “having obtained humane men.” In this respect, Wu stands in direct contrast to the Shang king, who has surrounded himself with an entourage of criminals and fugitives; this consolidates the opposition between the rulers developed in the second block. Wu also explains that, among “the splendid central lands” (referring to the Zhou) and “the northern and southern tribes, none do not follow and obey” him, echoing the description of Wen pacifying both “our great land” and “the [four] directions” from the second narrative layer, thereby constructing a parallel between himself and his father. In the fourth block of the embedded speech, Wu announces his plan to “[launch] a campaign to the East,” where Shang is located, asserting that he will bring peace to the people there. 肆予東征，綏厥士女。惟其士女，篚厥玄黃，昭我周王，天休震動，用附我大邑周。406 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 346. The Kong Anguo commentary suggests that lüe 略 “plundering” should be read lu 路 “road”: “[This is] saying that he executes Zhou and reverently carries on heaven’s ambition to cut off the road to disorder.” (“略，路也。言誅紂敬承天意以絕亂路。” Ibid.) 405 The Kong Anguo commentary interprets hua 華 as referring to “[those who wear] ceremonial apparel in colours and patterns” and xia 夏 as referring to “great states”. (“冕服採章曰華，大國曰夏,” Ibid.) The earliest use of the term huaxia 華夏 in the corpus is in Zuo Zhuan, which dates to the Warring States. See Hong, Zuo Zhuan, 588. 406 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 346. 403 404 184 I thereby [launch] a campaign to the East, to bring peace to its men and women. It is these men and women who [present in] baskets their coloured [silks], exalting me [as] king of Zhou, heaven’s beneficence rousing [them] to apply [themselves] in submission to our great capital of Zhou.407 The men and women of the East present Wu with “coloured [silks],” recognising his sovereignty in the Zhou cultural dominion, which soon will encompass the former Shang. This block relates to the preceding three by justifying Wu’s “great rectification” in terms of the wishes of the people of the former Shang. The final block of the embedded speech comprises of a direct appeal to the “deities” being addressed, “august heaven, […] sovereign earth, and […] the famous mountains and great river that [Wu] passed” on the way to Shang. 惟爾有神，尚克相予，以濟兆民，無作神羞！』」 408 Behold you deities; may it be that you extend to me your support to deliver [to safety] the thousand-thousand commonfolk, doing nothing to raise [you] deities’ chagrin!’”409 Linking back to the preceding block, Wu entreats these deities to support his campaign, that he might provide relief for the people of Shang. The plea also mirrors the acknowledgement of these deities at the introduction of the embedded speech, bookending the speech and bringing it to a close. A passage closely paralleling this appears in Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius): “The Documents say, […] ‘There were some who would not become vassals [of Zhou], so a campaign [was launched] to the east, to pacify its men and women. They [presented in] baskets their dark and yellow [silks], presenting [these to our] king of Zhou and looking [up] to [his] blessing, to be vassals in submission to the great capital of Zhou.” (“《書》曰：[…] ‘有攸不惟臣，東征綏厥士女，匪厥玄黃，紹我周王見休，惟臣附于大邑周。’” Jiao Xun 焦循, Mengzi Zhengyi 孟子正義 [Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987], 434.) Both resemble a line from Yu Gong: “[Yanzhou’s] tribute were lacquered [items] and silk; its baskets [were full of] woven patterned [fabric].” (“厥貢漆絲，厥篚織文。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 168.) 408 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 346. 409 The phrase “doing nothing to raise [you] deities’ chagrin” (“無作神羞”) appears in Zuo Zhuan. See Hong, Zuo Zhuan, 543. 407 185 Returning to the impersonal, pseudo-documentary narration seen before Wu’s address, the text describes the Zhou army’s approach on Shang, and six days later, the clash between the Zhou and Shang forces at Mu.410 既戊午，師逾孟津。癸亥，陳于商郊，俟天休命。甲子昧爽，受率其旅若林，會于牧野。罔有敵于我師。前徒倒戈，攻于後以北。血流杵。411 Once it was wuwu,412 the army crossed the Meng ford. On guihai,413 they arrayed [themselves] at the outlands of Shang, waiting on the heaven-bestowed directive.414 At daybreak on jiazi,415 Shou led his forest-like battalions and assembled [them] at the Mu hinterlands.416 They offered no opposition for our army. Their infantry in front upended their pole-axes and forced a retreat by attacking to the rear. 417 [So much] One can confident that the text from “Once it was wuwu…” onwards does not also form part of Wu’s direct speech because the use of the sexagenary cycle dating is a recognised feature of thirdperson contextualising frames in shu speeches. Refer to Grebnev, “The Case of Texts with Speeches.” 411 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. 412 Day 55. 413 Day 60. 414 The Kong Anguo commentary explains that this “refers to [Wu’s troops] being prepared to array [themselves] [when] the night’s rains stop.” (“代天休命，謂夜雨止畢陳。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347.) The phrase “heaven-bestowed directive” (“天休命”) appears in the fourteenth Yijing hexagram, “Da You” 大有 (“Great Possessing”). See Li, Zhouyi jijie, 189. 415 Day 1. 416 The Kong Anguo commentary reads lü 旅 (battalion) as zhong 衆 (multitude). Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. 417 Unwilling to fight, the front line of Shang troops inverted their weapons and turned these on their own. The “Zhou benji” gives the following account of the battle: “the Emperor Zhou (紂) heard that King Wu was arriving and also sent out a force of seven hundred thousand men to keep Wu at bay. Wu dispatched his army’s esteemed veterans and a hundred men to provoke a battle and charged the Emperor Zhou’s army with a large infantry. Although [the Emperor] Zhou’s army was multitudinous, they were entirely without the heart to do battle; their hearts desired that King Wu immediately enter [the city]. Zhou’s army all turned on themselves in battle, to [give] an opening to King Wu. King Wu charged them, and Zhou’s forces all collapsed and turned against him.” (“帝紂聞武王來，亦發兵七十萬人距武王。武王使師尚父與百夫致師，以大卒馳帝紂師。紂師雖眾，皆無戰之心，心欲武王亟入。紂師皆倒兵以戰，以開武王。武王馳之，紂兵皆崩畔紂。” Shiji, 124.) Referring to the Shiji account, the Kong Yingda commentary states that “although Zhou’s forces were numerous, they didn’t reach seven hundred thousand men; this is simply historians embellishing 410 186 blood flowed that it floated pestles. According to the brief but vivid account of the conflict, the frontline Shang infantry “upended their pole-axes,” showing that they were unwilling to charge their opponents, in addition to forcing their own troops to retreat by turning and “attacking to the rear” within their own ranks. A final, graphic comment asserts that “[so much] blood flowed that it floated pestles.”418 This description is a powerful testimony to the deadly decisiveness of Wu’s victory over the Shang (who “offered no opposition” for the insurgent), and his mettle and efficiency as a martial leader. On the basis of the sexagenary cycle dates here and in the opening passage, one can place these events to the second lunar month. Continuing in third-person voice, the narrative transitions from battle to peacetime, describing Wu as undisputed sovereign. 一戎衣天下大定。乃反商政政由舊。 419 [Wu] donned military garb once and the realm was greatly settled. Thereupon he overturned Shang governance, and governance took after the old [way]. [Wu’s] ability to strike down a formidable foe, and is only rhetoric.” (“紂兵雖則眾多，不得有七十萬人，是史官美其能破強敵，虛言之耳。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347.) 418 This passage is cited and discussed in Mengzi, where the bloodiness of the account is taken as reason to be wary of Wu Cheng as a source of cultural and moral learning: “Mencius said, ‘It would be better to do without the shu [altogether], than to trust them totally. Regarding War’s Completion, I’d select no more than two or three slips. Humane men are without match in the realm; if one attacks utmost inhumaneness using utmost humaneness, then how could the blood that flowed [be enough to float] mortar pestles?’” (“孟子曰盡信書，則不如無書。吾於武成，取二三策而已矣。仁人無敵於天下。以至仁伐至不仁，而何其血之流杵也？” Jiao, Mengzi Zhengyi, 959.) The bloodiness of this line relates to a wider controversy regarding the brutality of the historical battle at Mu. Another text, Shifu 世俘 (Great Capture) in the Yi Zhou Shu, “shows the battle as a bloodbath of epic proportions and King Wu as a man without mercy.” Kern, “The ‘Harangues’,” 285. See also Huang Huaixin 黃懷信, Yi Zhou Shu huijiao jizhu 逸周書彙校集注 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007), 410–46. Studies of Shifu as an historical source include Gu Jiegang, “Yi Zhou Shu ‘Shifu’ pian jiaozhu xieding yu pinglun” 逸周書世俘篇校註寫定與評論, Wenshi 文史 2 (1963): 1–42 and Edward Shaughnessy, “‘New’ Evidence on the Zhou Conquest,” in Before Confucius: Studies in the Creation of the Chinese Classics, 31–67 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997). 419 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. 187 Wu’s prior conflict at Mu is alluded to in the image of “[donning] military garb.” This has the effect of tempering the ruthlessness described in the preceding line. More than just a palatable euphemism, the topos of changing attire suggests that Wu takes on a martial identity, like clothing, temporarily and only as required; in other words, he is not militaristic by nature. Moreover, Wu needed only do this “once, and the realm was greatly settled.” With the realm “greatly settled,” Wu “overturned Shang governance,” making a total break from the catastrophic regime described in his embedded speech. As seen in the analysis of his direct address to the assembled lords, Wu regards his projects as belonging in a long continuum alongside the activities of ancient former rulers. Shang’s rule represented an aberrant detour from the course first established by the distant ancestor Hou Ji, while Wu’s usurpation, reinstating “the old [way],” represents a return to this course. The next passage of text comprises of five individual units that are internally unified through parallel syntax. (I arrange the text to make these parallelisms clearer.) Each unit enumerates a specific programme of reform undertaken by Wu. In the first unit, Wu pays respects to three ministers unjustly denounced under the Shang. 釋箕子囚，封比干墓，式商容閭。420 [He] released Jizi from bondage, Raised an earthen mound [over] Bi Gan’s tomb, And gave a crossbar salute at Shang Rong’s gate. 421 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. Shi 式 is an alternate form of shi 軾 (crossbar of a chariot). The Kong Yingda commentary explains, “Shi 式 is [a piece of] horizontal wood atop a chariot. When a man rides [it] standing and [comes upon] those he would salute, he bows [his head] and leans against the crossbar. Shi 式 thereupon became the name of a salute. The Shuowen says, ‘lü 閭 is a door in a clan residence.’ King Wu passes the gate and salutes (shi 式) it, which is saying that the worthy is inside, and [Wu] salutes to show courtesy to the worthy.” (“式者，車上之橫木, 男子立乘，有所敬則俯而憑式, 遂以式為敬名。說文云: 閭，族居里門也。武王過其閭而式之，言此內有賢人，式之禮賢也。” Ibid., 420 421 188 Wu releases Jizi, incarcerated by King Zhou after remonstrating with the latter for the execution of Bi Gan. Wu then “[raises] an earth mound [over] Bi Gan’s tomb,” creating a ritually-fitting burial site for the deceased. Finally, he “[gives] a crossbar salute” at the gate of Shang Rong, who retreated to a private life after being dismissed from Zhou’s court. Each line in this text unit has the syntax [verb (one character)] [proper name (two characters)] [noun (one character)]. Having rectified the mistreatment of these worthies, Wu then, in the second unit of text, redresses the Shang king’s mistreatment of the common people. 散鹿臺之財，發鉅橋之粟，大賚于四海，而萬姓悅服。422 [He] scattered the wealth of Deer Terrace423 And dispensed the grains of Hard Iron Bridge, 424 Greatly bestowing [these] throughout the four seas, And so the ten thousand commoners happily submitted [to him]. 348.) See biographical notes on the legendary-historical figures Jizi, Bi Gan, and Shang Rong in notes 338 and 339 in the previous chapter. 422 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. 423 Repositories for King Zhou of Shang’s private stores of wealth and grain. According to the account in “Yin benji”, King Zhou “increased taxes and levies, so that Deer Terrace was filled with cash and Hard Iron Bridge brimming with grain.” (“厚賦稅以實鹿臺之錢，而盈鉅橋之粟。”) Chen Zan 臣瓚 (c. Western Jin) comments that Deer Terrace is “now in the city of Zhaoge” (“今在朝歌城中,” Shiji, 105.) By contrast, Li Tai 李泰 (618–652), writing in the Comprehensive Gazetteer (Kuodi zhi 括地志), seems to suggest that Zhaoge and Deer Terrace are in different locations: “the ancient city of Zhaoge is located twenty-three li to the West of Wei county. [The area] seventy-two li to the Northeast of Weizhou is called the Yin ruins. Deer Terrace is thirty-two li to the Southwest of Weizhou in Wei county.” (“朝歌故城在衛州東北七十三里衛縣西二十三里，謂之殷虛。鹿臺在衛州衛縣西南二十二里。” Kuodi zhi yi 括地志一, Congshu jicheng chubian vols. 3096–7 [Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991], 97.) The site of Zhaoge 朝歌 is located in modern-day Qi 淇 county in Henan province. 424 The “Zhou benji” contains a high number of passages parallel with these few sentences (Shiji, 126.) 189 Wu distributes provisions that Shang hoarded for his private consumption, “[scattering] the wealth of Deer Terrace” and “[dispensing] the grains of Hard Iron Bridge.” “Greatly bestowing [these] throughout the four seas,” he shares these resources with “the ten thousand commoners” (wan xing 萬姓) throughout the domain. These subjects “happily [submit] [to him]” in response. All the lines have five characters, and the lines in the first couplet also share the syntax [verb (1)] [place name (2)] [之] [noun (1)]. Next, Wu establishes a new administrative structure for officials and the nobility. 列爵惟五，分土惟三。建官惟賢，位事惟能。425 [He] divided the ranks of nobility into five And allotted the lands into three.426 [He] set up offices [for] the worthy And placed in occupations the capable. He establishes five ranks and three different sizes of estate associated with these, as well as creating offices and appointments, which he fills with the worthy and capable. Each line in this third unit uses the syntax [verb (1)] [noun (1)] [惟] [stative verb (1)]. Having organised the nobility, Wu then turns his attentions to the government of the commonfolk (min 民). Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. The Kong Anguo commentary explains, “the nobility has five ranks: duke, marquis, earl, viscount, and baron. […] [regarding] splitting land and enfeoffing domains, the duke and marquis, with a hundred square li, the earl, with seventy li, and the viscount and baron, with fifty square li, make three classes.” (“爵五等, 公侯伯子男。[…] 列地封國, 公侯方百里, 伯七十里, 子男五十里, 爲三品。” Ibid., 349.) 425 426 190 重民五教，惟食喪祭。427 [He] considered important for the commonfolk the Five Instructions, 428 And food provision, mourning rites, and sacrifices.429 Wu promotes the “Five Instructions” for the commonfolk’s moral development and attends to the basic provisions of food and the practice of mourning rites and sacrifices. Both lines in this unit are [verb (1)] [noun phrase (3)]. With all this in place, the text gives a (rather platitudinal and clichéd) overview of Wu’s demeanour in ruling. 惇信明義，崇德報功。430 [He] was sincere in trustworthiness and illuminated propriety; [He] raised up virtue and recompensed meritorious service. Wu is generically applauded as a king who “was sincere in trustworthiness and illuminated propriety” and “raised up virtue and recompensed meritorious service.” Both lines in this final unit of parallel text are formed [verb (1)] [noun (1)] [verb (1)] [noun (1)]. A further, final remark describes Wu’s clothing and appearance. Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. The Kong Anguo commentary glosses the Five Instructions as “the instruction of the five constants.” (“所重在民及五常之教。” Ibid., 349–50.) The term “five constants” (wu chang 五常) is used in reference to a system of moral or social concepts at many points in Wang Chong’s Lunheng. See Huang, Lunheng jiaoshi. 429 There is a passage in the Analects with a degree of parallel with this: “Zhou bestowed great [gifts] […] that which he considered important were the commonfolk, food, mourning rites, and sacrifices.” (“周有大賚 […] 所重民、食、喪、祭。” Cheng, Lunyu jishi, 1357; 1364.) 430 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. 427 428 191 垂拱而天下治。431 [With his robes] hanging and [his hands] folded, the realm was orderly. Wu sits with stilled hands and neatly hanging robes, quiet and undisturbed. This communicates the achievements of his leadership: with his sage and effective governance eliminating all unrest from the realm, there is little else for Wu to do. 432 Unlike the preceding five units of text from “[He] released Jizi” to “recompensed meritorious service”, this line has no immediate parallel. The break from the pattern of parallelised text units indicates the conclusion of the section, and of Wu Cheng as a whole. However, this stand-out line does echo the line that directly precedes the five parallel text units, “[Wu] donned military garb”; both offer allegorical descriptions of Wu’s clothing and appearance as a device to remark upon the orderly state of the realm. As such, the text from “[Wu] donned military garb” to “the realm was orderly” forms a complete text unit exhibiting multiple layers of structural parallelism. While each of the five central units (from “[He] released Jizi” to “recompensed meritorious service”) are unified internally through parallel syntax, the parallel between the two stand-out lines preceding and following these five units bookend them, holding them together as a single, larger unit. This clearly closes off this final section of Wu Cheng, as well as the text as a whole. This reading of Wu Cheng shows how the text’s different sections manifest different types of textual authority. To review, the opening section, from “During the first month” to “the hundredfold officials received their directives from Zhou”, describes several ritual events and gestures showing the strength of Wu’s mandate to rule. These events are narrated in the Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. As in the Kong Yingda commentary: “The people are all equal to their occupations and there is nothing [left] for [his] hands to manage.’” (“人皆稱職, 手無所營。” Ibid., 350.) 431 432 192 impersonal voice in a pseudo-documentary style, indexed with copious time markers in a mixture of lunar and sexagenary dating systems. The next section, from “The king seemingly said” to “it seemed that I, the little one, would carry out his ambition”, corresponds to Wu’s direct address to the gathered sovereigns. In this speech, Wu reviews the multi-generational programme of Zhou cultural expansion, explaining that it has fallen to him to sustain and develop this. A third section, from “I relayed the crimes of Shang” to “doing nothing to raise [you] deities’ chagrin!”, corresponds to a further speech embedded in Wu’s address, originally delivered to various deities while en route to attack Shang. In this embedded speech, Wu catalogues the Shang king’s misdemeanours, explains that he, supported by the Shang people, will be the one to reprimand the Shang king through war, and solicits the deities’ favour. The next section, from “Once it was wuwu” to “[So much] blood flowed that it floated pestles”, gives a graphic description of the conflict at Mu, leaving no doubt about Wu’s ferocity on the battlefield. This section sees a return to the third-person narration used in the first section, and to the use of the sexagenary cycle time markers. The final section, from “[Wu] donned military garb…” to the end, continues the thirdperson narration of the preceding section, while differing from that section in several ways. First, this section has a discursive, non-documentary style that does not make use of time markers.433 Second, where the preceding section fore-fronted Wu’s military aggression, this section presents him as an effective peacetime ruler who cultivates stability in the realm. Finally, the section exhibits multiple layers of structural parallelism. Textual parallelisms do appear elsewhere in Wu Cheng; they are seen, for example, in the catalogue of Shang’s misdemeanours in Wu’s embedded speech, and in the parallel couplet “Sending the horses The Kong Yingda commentary postulates that “the composition […] has no sequence” because “Its upper [part] is deficient; its original text has been lost.” (“自此以下皆史辭也，其上闕絕，失其本經，故文無次第。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347.) 433 193 back… / Setting the oxen loose…”, as well as in the interlocking structure shared between this couplet and the line preceding it. However, in this final section beginning from “[Wu] donned military garb…”, the entire text is uniformly and highly formally integrated. In chapter Three of this project, I argued that form-content parallelism refers to the simultaneous double transmission of the same piece of information at two different processing levels of the same text. On this basis, I argue that the high degree of formal integration in this final section of Wu Cheng reflects the stability that Wu achieves in the realm, stated at the beginning and the ending of the passage. This represents a complex “literary form of argument,” whereby a text form creates authority. This, in combination with the discursive, non-documentary third-person narrative voice, evokes zhuzi 諸子 (“masters”) philosophical literature.434 Overall, each of these five sections manifests a different type of textual authority. The first and fourth sections offer authority through pseudo-documentary precision, including the kind of dating information seen in the li 曆 (mathematical astronomy) procedure texts of the Han.435 The second and third sections offer “verbatim” records of kingly speech. The final section offers the sophisticated, detached literary argumentation of zhuzi texts. Refer to Gentz and Meyer, Literary Forms. Daniel Patrick Morgan explains, “A li procedure text or ‘astronomical system’ – often confusingly called a ‘calendar’ – is a set of numbers (shu 數) and algorithms (shu 術) used to calculate the time and position of a variety of lunar, solar, and planetary phenomena including – but not limited to – those used to determine the lunisolar civil calendar.” (“Review of Christopher Cullen, The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chinese Astronomical Systems. Scientific Writings from the Ancient and Medieval World. London; New York: Routledge, 2017, xi, 434 pp.,” East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine 46: 232–36: 232.) 434 435 194 Part Two: The structure of the narrative As noted during the reading, Wu Cheng jumps around in time. In this second part, I outline the narrative’s divergence from, and restructuring of, chronological time. I argue that this “restructuring” has the effect of centring King Wu’s direct speech within the text. Wu Cheng furnishes enough information to reconstruct the chronological sequence of all events featuring in its narrative, including, in many cases, dates to the day. This chronology is compiled in table 1 below.436 Each column in this table corresponds to either a day where a discrete event(s) takes place, or a gap between eventful days (with duration marked.) The two rows along the top correspond to the two systems of time marking used in the text; lunar month is recorded along the first row, and days of the sexagenary cycle system are recorded along the second. For some events where dates are not given outright, these can be gleaned by inference: Wu’s first acts of governance, as described in the final section of the text, must have taken place at some point between jiazi (day 1) during the second lunar month and the newly waxing moon in the fourth lunar month (though the date of this is itself inconclusive.) Wu moreover states that he originally gave the “crimes of Shang” speech, embedded in his address, while en route to decimate Shang, thereby placing this event at some point within a twenty-five-day window between guisi (day 30) in the first lunar month, when his forces set off, and wuwu (day 55) in the second month, when the army finally forded at Meng. To be clear, this is to be distinguished from the known dates and sequence of actual historical events to which the events described in Wu Cheng supposedly correspond. The historical inaccuracies and internal inconsistencies of the dates provided in Wu Cheng have already been addressed by many scholars; refer to the discussion of the debate over Shangshu as a historical source in chapter One, part Two. 436 195 Table One First lunar month Renchen 壬辰 (d.29) It is nearly a waxing moon. Guisi 癸巳 (d.30) Wu’s forces set off from Zhou. Second lunar month 24 days (Wu gives his speech relaying the crimes of Shang to the various deities.) Wuwu 戊午 (d.55) Wu’s army crosses the Meng ford. 4 days - Guihai 癸亥 (d.60) Wu’s army organise themselves at Shang outlands. Jiazi 甲子 (d.1) Battle at Mu hinterlands. Fourth lunar month Unknown duration “[Once] it was a newly waxing [moon]” Unknown duration Dingwei 丁未 (d.44) 2 days Gengxu 庚戌 (d.47) Unknown duration (Date unknown) (Date unknown) Wu overturns Shang governance, honours Jizi, Bi Gan, and Shang Rong; distributes Shang’s wealth; divides ranks and lands; sets up offices; disseminates Five Instructions; upholds food, rites, and mourning. Wu arrives in Feng. “Once [the moon] was newly waning” - Wu conducts sacrifice at Zhou ancestral temple in the presence of sovereign nobles. - Wu performs firewood and distant sacrifices, announces war’s completion. - Sovereign lords accept directives from Zhou. Wu addresses sovereign lords. Wu recounts his speech relaying Shang’s crimes to the sovereign lords. Below, in table 2, I rearrange this information against the sequence of the narrative. Events are plotted according to narrative sequence in columns (from left to right) and according to chronological position by row (from top to bottom.) The table thereby shows exactly how the Wu Cheng narrative diverges from chronological order. 196 First lunar month Table Two Renchen 壬辰 (d.29) Guisi 癸巳 (d.30) It is nearly a waxing moon. Wu’s forces set off from Zhou. 24 days Wu’s army crosses the Meng ford. Second lunar month Wuwu 戊午 (d.55) 4 days Wu’s army organise themselves at Shang outlands. Guihai 癸亥 (d.60) Battle at Mu hinterlands. Jiazi 甲子 (d.1) Third l. m. Wu overturns Shang governance, honours Jizi, Bi Gan, and Shang Rong; distributes Shang’s wealth; divides ranks and lands; sets up offices; disseminates Five Instructions; upholds food provision, rites, and mourning. Unknown duration “[Once] it was a newly waxing [moon]” (Date unknown) Wu arrives in Feng. Fourth lunar month Unknown duration Dingwei 丁未 (d.44) Wu conducts sacrifice at Zhou ancestral temple in the presence of sovereign nobles. 2 days Gengxu 庚戌 (d.47) Wu performs firewood and distant sacrifices, announces war’s completion. Unknown duration Sovereign lords accept directives from Zhou. “Once [the moon] was newly waning” Wu addresses sovereign lords. Wu recounts his speech relaying Shang’s crimes to the sovereign lords. As clearly visualised by table 2, Wu Cheng “horseshoes” in time. The narrative first describes the Zhou forces setting off on their campaign on day guisi in the first lunar month. The text then skips ahead to the time of the newly waxing moon in the fourth month, detailing a series of ritual events concluding with Wu’s direct address (including embedded speech), which is delivered once the moon is newly waning. Finally, the narrative moves back in time to recount the assault at Mu and the programme of governance that Wu immediately enacted following his victory. These events take place between day wuwu in the second month and the day of the newly-waxing moon in the fourth month. In other words, while the sequentially-first events in Wu Cheng are also the chronologically-earliest within the period covered by the narrative, the following, sequentially-middle events are chronologically latest, while the sequentially-final string of events corresponds to the chronological middle. The part of the Wu Cheng that is artificially transposed to its sequential middle, in spite of being chronologically latest, is Wu’s direct address to the sovereign lords, inclusive of his embedded speech enumerating Shang’s crimes. As such, the key effect of the “horseshoe” configuration of narrative time is to centre King Wu’s “verbatim” words to the heart of the narrative, where they are framed symmetrically with third-person narration. 437 This is clearly shown in table 2, where events narrated in the third-person voice are marked in orange while direct and embedded speech are marked in blue and green respectively. There is a passage in Hanshu that mentions the events narrated in both third-person narrative sections of Wu Cheng, but presenting these in chronological order. See Hanshu, 2029–30. 437 198 Part Three: The paradigmatic shu text As discussed in chapter One, the question of what constitutes shu literature is much debated by scholars.438 Nonetheless, a cluster of interconnected rhetorical and morphological features appear to recur across Shangshu texts, Yi Zhou Shu texts, and shu-related excavated texts.439 Generally speaking, these texts opens with a pseudo-documentary third-person narrative frame, which subsequently transitions to the reported “verbatim” speech of a king or culture hero using the phrase wang ruo yue 王若曰 (“the king seemingly said”). 440 It is this Refer to part One in this chapter. I use the term shu in order to create distance from the idea of the canonised Shangshu, which refers to a specific library of texts with clear coordinates in historical space and time. 439 For some of the literary characteristic of shu texts, see Hu Nianyi, “Shangshu de sanwen yishu ji qi zai wenxueshi shang de diwei he yingxiang,” Chang Kang, “Shitan Shangshu de yuyan yishu,” Yin Diting, “Shilun Shangshu yuyan de wenxuexing,” and Wang Wenqing, “Lun Shangshu sanwen de yishu fengge tedian.” 440 See Grebnev, “The Case of Texts with Speeches” for a morphological study of shu contextualising frames. The proper meaning of the phrase wang ruo yue has long been a point of contention among scholars. The formula appears in several types of texts, including Shang- and Zhouperiod oracle bone inscriptions, bronze inscriptions, as well as the Shang Shu and Zhou Shu sections of the Shangshu. Key contributions on the topic include Chen Mengjia’s 1939 essay “‘Wang ruo yue’ kao” 王若曰考, reprinted in Shangshu tonglun, 163–89 (Shijiazhuang: Hebei jiaoyu chubanshe, 2000); Dong Zuobin’s 董作賓 (1895–1963) 1944 article “‘Wang ruo yue’ guyi” 王若曰古義 in Shuowen yuekan 說文月刊 4: 327–33; and Yu Xingwu’s 1966 article “‘Wang ruo yue’ shiyi” 王若曰釋義 in Zhongguo yuwen 中國語文 (1966 no.2): 147–9. Zhang Huaitong 張懷通 summarises the debate in “‘Wang ruo yue’ xinshi” “王若曰” 新釋, in Yi Zhou Shu xinyan 逸周書新研, 61–73 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2013), concluding, “(1) when wang ruo yue appears at the beginning of ming or gao, it’s a marker phrase that the official historian makes when recording the king’s speech to show that this speech has begun, with everything recorded thereafter being a true record [of this]. […] (2) Ming or gao that are headed up with ‘wang ruo yue’ are the king’s live speeches as recorded by official historians, and there are broadly two types. The first are ming that the king makes in connection with appointments (ceming); they are the words of appointed officials. This is the majority of bronze inscriptions. […] The second are gao that the king issues in engaging in the affairs of state and [making] general and specific policies; they are the words of administrators. …” (“（一） ‘王若曰’ 出現在 ‘命’ 或 ‘誥’ 的開頭，是史官在記錄王的講話時所作標記文字，表示王的講話已經開始，下文所記都是實錄。[...]（二） ‘王若曰’ 領起的 ‘命’ 或 ‘誥’，是史官記錄的王的現場講話，大約有兩種種類型。一是王針對冊命所作的 ‘命’，即命官之辭，這是青銅器銘文中的大宗。…” 72–3.) This is a rough guide, and does not cover the full breadth and variety of situations in which wang ruo yue appears. 438 199 reported speech that really forms the “meat” of the text, with the narrative frame and wang ruo yue serving to testify where, when, and how this was delivered.441 (These contextualising devices nevertheless do have an additional stylistic function, much how the phrase “Once upon a time” not only frames the events of a fairy-tale, but also [and not unrelated to this] earmarks fairy-tales as a genre.) While these three features form a useful checklist, it is really the sum of these features’ effects that constitutes a distinct paradigm of “the shu text.” This overall effect is, as Sarah Allan has discussed, the pretence of the contemporaneous recording of the king’s speech. 442 As such, I posit that the paradigmatic shu text constructs a pretence of preserving both the context and content of prized kingly speech, often (but not necessarily) manifesting the three rhetorical and morphological characteristics discussed above. 443 The first three sections of Wu Cheng, running from the beginning of the text until the end of Wu’s embedded speech (“doing nothing to raise [you] deities’ chagrin!”), manifest all three features of the paradigmatic shu text listed above. There is an opening third-person narrative frame offering contextual information, and the subsequent passage to direct speech uttered by the king is marked with the use of wang ruo yue. The fourth section, which runs from “Once it was wuwu” to “[So much] blood flowed that it floated pestles,” uses the same pseudo-documentary third-person narration used in the first section, and describes events taking place between those of the first and second sections. Yet, it is located after Wu’s speech, forming an extra, successive narrative frame. This begs the question, why isn’t this The question of the narrative effect of these devices should be clearly distinguished from questions of the historical accuracy of their claims about where, when, and how real speeches may have been delivered and recorded. 442 See note 88 on page 46 in chapter One. 443 Note that there is no wang ruo yue in the corpus text Mu Shi, reflecting the dispensability of the individual contextualising features mentioned. 441 200 section narratively situated in its chronologically-correct position, before Wu’s speech? What is the effect of it appearing where it does? As shown in the analysis in part Two, Wu Cheng manifests a “horseshoe” narrative that transposes Wu’s address (and embedded speech) to the heart of the narrative, where it is buffeted to either side with third-person narration. This structure transforms King Wu’s direct speeches into what Dirk Meyer refers to as “principal insertion”. Meyer uses this term to refer to a device common to argument construction in Warring States texts, whereby a particularly important component of text is identified by its central and asymmetrical placement within a wider unit of text exhibiting a regular, generally parallelised structure. 444 Following this reasoning, by artificially transposing Wu’s speech(es) to the centre of the text, Wu Cheng structurally privileges the king’s speech. As shown in the analysis in part Two, it is through the chronological derangement of the fourth (and fifth) section that the second narrative frame and overall “horseshoe” structure are created. In other words, by its relative placement within the overall text, the fourth section constructs the principal insertion that highlights the king’s speech – fulfilling the function of the paradigmatic shu text. As discussed in part One, the fifth section, which runs from “[Wu] donned military garb” to the end of the text, much more closely resembles zhuzi philosophical literature than a paradigmatic shu text. I argue that this section, following directly on from the fourth, serves to mediate against possibly deleterious aspects of the latter’s depiction of the king. To recap, the fourth section, gives a graphic description of the conflict at Mu, forefronting the aggressiveness of Wu’s forces.445 The fifth section, by contrast, presents Wu as See Philosophy on Bamboo, 99, including note 61 in particular. The association of the central with importance is not without precedent in the rationalisation of shu texts: Michael Nylan observes a similar phenomenon in her study of various exegetical trends in the study of the highly influential Hong Fan, The shifting center. As her analysis demonstrates, the concept of “the centre” has informed many of the most impactful strategies for making sense of Hong Fan in all its aspects, including form. 445 Wu’s blood-thirsty image in the literature was a point of controversy for even early text communities; see note 418 on page 187. 444 201 an effective peacetime ruler who cultivates stability in the realm. Together, the two sections presents two aspects of the whole of Wu’s character: he is peace-loving, and for this reason, he strikes out forcefully to regain the peace whenever it is threatened. Moreover, as discussed in part One, the tightly-constructed literary form of argument used in this section is particularly rhetorically sophisticated, fortifying its sympathetic image of Wu. Overall, the fifth section synthesises the fourth’s ferocious depiction of Wu to give a more holistic characterisation of the monarch whose speech the text records – again, fulfilling the shu paradigm. 202 Conclusion I have suggested that the paradigmatic shu text often (but not necessarily) manifests the rhetorical and morphological characteristics of an opening pseudo-documentary narrative frame, “verbatim” speech of a king or culture hero, and use of the phrase wang ruo yue. More importantly though, the paradigmatic shu text constructs the pretence of documenting both the context and content of prized kingly speech. The first three sections of Wu Cheng manifest all three rhetorical and morphological characteristics paradigm noted, and so at first glance already appear “shu-like”. The fourth and fifth sections, however, do not initially appear to fit this paradigm quite so neatly; while the fourth section forms a seemingly superfluous, chronologically-contrived narrative frame, the fifth recalls an altogether unrelated genre of text. However, as argued in part Three, when contextualised within the narrative structure of the complete Wu Cheng, both sections can be seen to elevate the king and his speech. The fourth section has a key role in creating a principal insertion that structurally centres and thereby valorises King Wu’s verbatim speech. It is worth noting that the chronological derangement of the fourth section through which this principal insertion is achieved is by no means inelegant: the events of the fourth section of Wu Cheng (from “Once it was wuwu” to the end of the text) lead on chronologically from the time when Wu originally gave the embedded speech that form the text’s third section. As such, the temporal regression between the sequential middle and the sequentially final sections of the text is masked by the “timetravelling” narrative device of reported speech. The fifth section is indispensable to the fourth, refining and enriching the latter’s dubious portrayal of the king, employing the rhetorical sophistication characteristic of the “zhuzi” text type to do so. The principal 203 insertion of overarching structure moreover indicates that, among the different textual authority types on display in Wu Cheng, it is kingly speech that is paramount – again, per the shu paradigm. Overall, even though certain sections of Wu Cheng don’t quite fit into the shu paradigm, the overarching narrative construct of Wu Cheng as a whole, by documenting, elevating, and aestheticising the context and content of kingly speech, does manifests the paradigmatic shu text. 204 Chapter Seven: Wu Cheng II The present chapter comprises of a second analysis of Wu Cheng. Approaching Wu’s speech and actions in Wu Cheng as discourse, I argue that, while structural operations inhere in this discourse, Wu nevertheless demonstrates a kind of subjectivity in it.446 The analysis has two parts. In the first, I explore what Wu’s address says about the nature of discourse. I argue that, where a classical Cartesian model of discourse would understand this as the work of self-directed subjects, Wu’s address instead construes discourse as a selfdirecting, self-perpetuating phenomenon, comparable to the Lacanian “linguistic Other”; the discourse of individuals constitutes a site where this self-perpetuating Other consolidates itself.447 In part Two, I take the understanding of discourse presented in Wu’s address and apply this in an analysis of this address, as well as Wu’s actions elsewhere in Wu Cheng, as discourse in its own right. I show that Wu does still exercise a theoretical subjectivity within this discourse, determining it beyond and between its autonomous structural operations. For the purposes of this chapter, “discourse” includes any aggregate of effective enunciations (un ensemble d’énoncés effectifs) that constitutes knowledge (savoir), per the model in Michel Foucault’s (1926–1984) L’Archéologie du savoir (Paris: Gallimard, 1969). This is not limited to speech and writing; for the analysis of actions, behaviours, dress, rituals, etiquette, et cetera as grammatical texts or discourse, see the work of semiologist Yuri Lotman (1922–1993). 447 While Jacques Lacan’s (1901–1981) theoretical work addresses the fundamental nature of psychoanalytic experience, I adapt concepts from this work to elaborate subject-interpolation dynamics in Wu’s address. (By the same token, Wu Cheng can moreover be regarded as concrete literary evidence of psychoanalytic principle.) For an introduction to the history of the use of psychoanalytic theory in literary analysis, see Ruth Parkin-Gounelas, Literature and Psychoanalysis: Intertextual Readings (London: Macmillan Education, 2001), x–xii, and in Evelyne Keitel, Reading Psychosis: Readers, Texts and Psychoanalysis (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989), 3, including the corresponding notes on pages 127–8. Many of the possibilities and pitfalls of this approach are encapsulated in Neil Hertz’ study of one of its earliest examples, Sigmund Freud’s (1856–1939) 1919 reading of E. T. A. Hoffman’s “The Sandman” in “The Uncanny”; see “Freud and the Sandman” in Harari, Textual Strategies, 296–321. 446 205 Part One: The Other’s discourse In this first part, I explore what Wu’s address says about the nature of discourse. Part One of the previous chapter should be referred to for an annotated translation of the text. According to Wu Cheng, Wu and his forebears are linked in a continuous discourse. At the beginning of the speech embedded in his direct address, Wu asserts that he is “Fa, king of Zhou, by generations of descendants, [who] has the way,” suggesting that there must be some pre-existing course (“way”) from which Shang has deviated and to which Wu restores the realm. As much is stated in Wu Cheng’s very final section: “[t]hereupon [Wu] overturned Shang governance, and governance took after the old [way].” 448 Moreover, the description of King Wen’s pacification of “the [four] directions and our great land” (in Wu’s address) is echoed in Wu’s inducement of “the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes,” thus drawing a direct parallel between father and son. I argue that Wu’s address in Wu Cheng goes further than affirming the existence of continuous discourses. More than this, this address construes discourse as something like the Lacanian “linguistic Other”, referring to a self-determining and self-perpetuating entity that extends, consolidates, and assimilates itself through “individuals’” discourse – which is, therefore, not really the “individual’s discourse” at all. Jacques Lacan (1901–1981) developed his theses on the self-determining function of discourse over several decades in the latter half of the twentieth century. “Discourse”, for Lacan, basically refers to chains of signifiers that are produced ostensibly in order to The Kong Anguo commentary glosses this line explaining, “uses the good government of the Shang former kings” (“用商先王善政。” Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 348.) 448 206 represent “real” events. These representational chains are governed by sets of rules prohibiting or requiring certain combinations of symbols, thereby determining the course along which the chain may extend. These same rules fold over and integrate the chain into regular, continuously-overlapping strings that embed and “remember” their previous constituents, therefore constituting a kind of combinatorial memory. In the introduction to “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter’,” Lacan demonstrates that these syntactic rules are neither consciously designed, nor do they have any counterpart in the “pre-existing reality” that the chain stands to signify.449 Rather, syntax arises through the very process by which chains of signifiers are produced, which represents a kind of encoding or “ciphering.” Therefore, the form and constitution of the signifying is not only remembered but determined in the first instance under the power of its own autonomous structural operations. In this way, the signifying chains of discourse self-determine and self-perpetuate. As touched on in the previous chapter, Wu’s address to the assembled lords reviews a multi-generational programme of Zhou cultural expansion, chronicling the achievements of former rulers Hou Ji, Duke Liu, kings Dai, Ji, and Wen, as well as Wu himself. 王若曰：「嗚呼，羣后！惟先王建邦啟土，公劉克篤前烈，至于大王，肇基王迹，王季其勤王家。我文考文王克成厥勳，誕膺天命以撫方夏。大邦畏其力，小邦懷其德。惟九年，大統未集，予小子其承厥志。 450 See Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English, trans. Bruce Fink (New York: Norton, 2007), 35–9. Lacan demonstrates the mechanics of the ciphering process here by encoding the binary outcomes of a series of coin tosses (the simplest possible field of “real” events) into a representational chain. American psychoanalyst Bruce Fink replicates a simplified form of this demonstration in The Lacanian Subject: Between Language and Jouissance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 16–9. 450 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 343–5. 449 207 The king seemingly said, “Wuhu, [you] gathered sovereigns! It was the former monarch that established the domain and opened up the land. Duke Liu was able to deepen his forebear’s illustrious [achievements]. Coming [down] to [the time of] King Dai (Tai), he installed and erected a legacy of kingship, And King Ji toiled [establishing] the royal household. My accomplished late father King Wen was able to complete his [meritorious] exploits. He grandly undertook heaven’s directive, thereby pacifying the [four] directions and our great land. Large domains feared his strength; small domains embraced his virtue. Nine years [later], the great unification was [still] not yet brought [to completion], and it seemed that I, the little one, would carry out his ambition. As a whole, this address systematically arrays a multigenerational discourse of Zhou political culture. At each turn, the power of a Zhou patriarch is encoded in signifiers such as rituals, architecture, and so forth. Hou Ji’s initial achievements are consolidated by the activities of Duke Liu, which are, in turn, codified by the activities of King Dai, and so forth. Each patriarch’s project exceeds that of his predecessor(s), achieving more, with greater urgency and scope, as time passes. This escalation is analogised in the text structure, which dilates from one clause of comment on each of the earlier four rulers to four clauses of comment on Wen alone (and I arrange the text to reflect this.) Each project moreover memorialises its predecessor: Duke Liu’s achievements are integrated in King Dai’s “legacy of kingship”; the institution of the “royal household” is incorporated within Wen’s exploits. At no point does any of the patriarchs originate this discourse. Wu is described as inheriting Wen’s “ambition”, and Wen’s own projects cannot be seen to originate with him, either. Rather, the projects of both serve to give further play to King Ji’s “[toiling] [establishing] the royal household,” while Ji, in turn, carries forward King Tai’s “[installing] and [erecting] a legacy of kingship.” Overall, each patriarch extends a discourse that he inherits from his predecessor, such that this ultimately is not originated by anyone. Where and how, is this discourse determined, if not by self-directed individuals? As 208 discussed above, discourse has syntax, which is to say, a set of rules that (a) delineate the form that the signifying chain takes and (b) remembers the chain’s previous constitution, sunken in its combinatorial memory. As also discussed, this syntax neither reflects the structure of the “pre-existing reality” that the signifiers stand to signify, nor is it consciously determined by any individual. Rather, as Lacanian reasoning demonstrates, this syntax arises from the ciphering work of the discourse itself, which translates actual political power into semiotically-charged gestures. It is in this precise sense that the discourse described in this address, unfolding continuously over six generations of Zhou patriarchs, is self-determining and self-perpetuating. After describing the exploits of the Zhou patriarchs, Wu’s address goes on to recount a speech given at an earlier occasion. At many points throughout this embedded speech, Wu describes deities interfering in human affairs. Although deistic claims about gods having power over people are not at all an uncommon in premodern Chinese literature, I argue that these references to a remote, ulterior “other” interpolating in the individual’s discourse also serves to describe the effect of discourse in the field of individual experience. Above, I argued that Wu’s address describes how discourse (in this instance, the discourse of Zhou political culture) determines and perpetuates itself. Insofar as it is self-extending and self-perpetuating, discourse functions as an autonomous entity. Lacan refers to this virtual entity as l’Autre du langage, variously translated as “the Other of language,” “the Other as language,” or “the linguistic Other.” The individual gains the capacity to participate in discourse by “coming into” this autonomous Other, which precedes and exceeds him or her, as it exceeded their parents, their parents’ parents, and all other individuals. This interminable 209 precedence and alterity relative to the individual that is alluded to in Lacan’s written pun, “mOther tongue.”451 In the process of “coming into” this linguistic Other, the individual’s “own” discourse, first, becomes loaded with whatever snippets of other discourse are sunken in the Other’s combinatorial syntactic memory,452 and second, is directed along a syntactic course determined by the Other,453 as the latter ciphers independently. Therefore, from the point of view of the individual, this process of “coming into” the linguistic Other is akin to subjecting oneself to intrusion by a separate, pseudo-sentient entity. 454 From their standpoint, the linguistic Other occupies the “individual’s discourse,” which proves to be little more than a mere ground or condition for this Other to extend and replicate itself. As discussed in the previous chapter, Wu’s embedded speech enumerates Shang’s crimes, as well as describing the punitive response to these crimes by Wu, his forces, and the Shang people. The following extract describes the Wu’s discourse being interpolated by remote deities, as Wu achieves the “halt to the disorder and plundering” of the Shang by way of (“ 以” [lit. “thereby”]) “[assenting] to the thearch-on-high”: Fink, Lacanian Subject, 11. As on page 5: “[W]e are born into a world of discourse, a discourse or language that precedes our birth and that will live on after our death.” 452 “Is it grey matter that is so constituted that certain neuronal pathways, once established, can never be eradicated? Lacan’s answer is that only the symbolic other, through its combinatory rules, has the wherewithal to hold onto snatches of conversation forever.” Ibid. 453 “Language as Other brings with it rules, exceptions, expressions, and lexicons… […] We may be unable to think and express something except in one very specific way.” Ibid., 14. 454 On this point, Lacan likens language to “the gifts of Danaoi” – a Trojan horse – proffering the gift of expression while sequestering in this a self-interested agenda. The passage in question is glossed by Slavoj Žižek in How To Read Lacan (London: Granta, 2006), 7. Fink suggests that this analysis gives context to, and is borne out in, various language-sceptical (and even anti-language) thought, such as “Rousseau’s glorification and extolment of the virtues of primitive man and his life before the corrupting influence of language.” Lacanian Subject, 6. Examples of the same sentiment can be found in the early Chinese corpus, for example the Warring States philosophical text Zhuangzi. 451 210 予小子既獲仁人敢祗承上帝，以遏亂略。 455 I, the little one, having obtained humane men, [now] have the temerity to reverently assent to the thearch-on-high and put a halt to the disorder and plundering thereby. Syntactically, the clause “reverently assent to the thearch-on-high” (“祗承上帝”) interposes between “I, the little one” (“予小子”) and “put a halt to disorder and plundering” (“遏亂略”), buffering against Wu’s direct subjectification of his actions, which are ultimately attributable to the thearch. In the sentence that follows this, this interpolating relationship is extended: the actions of Wu’s allies, the people of “the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes” are attributed to heaven, via Wu, who serves as a meditating element. 華夏蠻貊，罔不率俾，恭天成命。456 [Among] the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes, none do not follow and obey [me], revering heaven’s completed directive. These people act to “[revere] heaven’s completed directive,” though they do so by way of Wu’s lead (“none do not follow and obey [me]”). Paralleling the structure in the preceding sentence above, the phrase element referring to Wu’s leadership (“罔不率俾”) interposes between the elements “the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes” (“華夏蠻貊”) and “revering heaven’s completed directive” (“恭天成命”), syntactically schematising Wu’s mediation of their discourse. Overall, these two sentences, taken together, outline two embedded levels of interpolation: the activity of the people of “the splendid central lands and the northern and southern tribes” is attributed to Wu, whose “own” discourse is, in turn, attributable to the thearch-on-high. And the sentence that follows these 455 456 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 346. Ibid. 211 states that it is the “beneficence” of heaven that “[rouses]” the men and women of the East (Shang) “to apply [themselves] in submission to our great capital of Zhou.” 肆予東征，綏厥士女。惟其士女，篚厥玄黃，昭我周王，天休震動，用附我大邑周。457 I thereby [launch] a campaign to the East, to bring peace to its men and women. It is these men and women who [present in] baskets their coloured [silks], exalting me [as] king of Zhou, heaven’s beneficence rousing [them] to apply [themselves] in submission to our great capital of Zhou. Overall, throughout this extract, the activities of Wu and his allies are interpolated by the separate, ulterior agencies of heaven and the thearch-on-high. These ulterior forces overrun, determine, and extend Wu and his allies’ discourses, such that “their own discourses” are, in actuality, the discourses of these ulterior forces. And although the interpolating effect that these ulterior forces exert is beyond doubt, they themselves remain far-removed, ineffable, and untraceable, with respect to Wu and his allies’ fields of experience. In these two ways, there is a marked correspondence between heaven and the thearch-on-high and the Lacanian Other. This correspondence is more than incidental. As shown above, the address preceding Wu’s embedded speech presents discourse as self-determining and self-perpetuating. The embedded speech describes the intrusive effect of this self-determining Other in the field of individual experience, attributing the structural ciphering of this Other as the directive work of far-off deities. Overall, Wu Cheng construes discourse as something like the Lacanian linguistic Other, referring to a self-directing, self-perpetuating entity that consolidates, reifies, and assimilates itself through “individuals’” discourse. I corroborate this reading with one final piece of evidence regarding the presentation of desire in Wu’s address. 457 Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 346. 212 In a classical Cartesian model, desire originates with self-directed individuals qua subjects. Per this model, parents impart infants with language in the ostensible belief that this will enable them to externalise whatever desires they already “have.” In Lacanian theory, by contrast, desire is constituted in meaning, and is therefore coextensive with – to the point of being caused by – discourse, outside of which it does not exist. As Lacan scholar Bruce Fink explains: “…we cannot even say that a child knows what it wants prior to the assimilation of language: when a baby cries the meaning of that act is provided by the parents or caretakers, […according to whose interpretation the baby’s cries] will retroactively be determined as having ‘meant’ hunger, as hunger pangs […] meaning that this situation is thus determined […] on the basis of […] language.” 458 Desires that manifest coextensively with discourse are determined and perpetuated on the basis of the structurally-emergent syntax of this discourse. This syntax both directs the shape taken by whatever desires manifest synchronically with it, as well as sequestering in its combinatorial memory desires manifested in past discourse. Fink summarises: “Our very fantasies can be foreign to us for they are structured by a language which is only tangentially or asymptotically our own, and they may even be someone else’s fantasies at the outset.”459 In these two precise ways, the desires that the individual acquires through discourse are not, and can never be, their own. Rather, desire is a product, property, or function of discourse, and the individual only gains desires at the point at which they come (or rather, are brought) into the linguistic Other. In this sense, the linguistic Other also functions as the Lacanian Subject, 6. Fink describes desire as an “ulterior product” of language: “…desire inhabits language. […] in a Lacanian framework, there is no such thing as desire, strictly speaking, without language.” Ibid., 9. Parkin-Gounelas also addresses “Lacan’s complex theories of the inextricability of desire and the (metonymic) chain of signification” in Literature and Psychoanalysis, 11. 459 Lacanian Subject, 13. “[T]he Other as language […] can be seen as an insidious, uninvited intruder that unceremoniously and unpropitiously transforms our wishes…” Ibid., 6. 458 213 “Other of desire.” Wu’s direct address to the various lords, to recap, describes a discourse of political activity extending through six generations of Zhou patriarchs, including Wen and Wu. As touched on in the previous chapter, Wu in this address articulates finding himself in a position to discharge King Wen’s “ambition” (zhi 志). 惟九年，大統未集，予小子其承厥志。 Nine years [later], the great unification was [still] not yet brought [to completion], and it seemed that I, the little one, would carry out his ambition. This is an explicit testimony to the inherited-ness and inheritability of desire. Wu takes on for himself (“would carry out”) the desire of his father (“his ambition”), which then becomes “his” desire, insofar as – by his own account – it drives “his” political projects of conquest and ascension. In other words, Wu’s desire is Wen’s desire. And looking back through the address, it can be seen that Wen’s desire does not originate with him or with any one among earlier generations of patriarchs.460 This tallies precisely with the nature of desire in a Lacanian model. Wu’s desires do not originate with him as a self-directed individual. Rather, desire is coextensive with discourse, and insofar as Wu’s “own” discourse is directed and determined by the discursive Other, “his” desires will be extraneously determined by this Other as well, experienced by him as “inheriting” desires from without. In other words, insofar as Wu’s address construes discourse as the linguistic Other, the text is also seen to describe discourse in its inevitable function as the Other of desire. Insofar as discourse and desire are coextensive, so long as there is discourse, there is (unfulfilled) desire. This “ambition” cannot be “completed” either by Wu or by any of his heirs. 460 214 To summarise this first part of the chapter, I have argued that Wu’s direct address and embedded speech effectively describe discourse as a Lacanian Other. This refers to discourse as a fully autonomous entity that determines and extends itself through “individuals’” discourses, under the power of its own structural operations. Desires and ambitions are coextensive with (and do not exist outside of) this discourse, and so they, too, are determined structurally, and not by the individual. 215 Part Two: The subject In this second part of the chapter, I apply the understanding of discourse presented in Wu’s address to analyse this address – as well as Wu’s actions in the rest of Wu Cheng – as discourse in its own right. I argue that, although this address is determined by its own structural operations, Wu does still in fact exercise (a theoretical) subjectivity within it. In the first part of the chapter, I argued that discourse, according to Wu Cheng, is determined and extended not by self-directed individuals, but rather through its own autonomous structural operations. In this model, any role for the individual qua subject is much diminished, in comparison with classical Cartesian models of discourse. However, in this analysis, I also noted that the activities of Wu and his allies served as the “ground” for the extension of the discourses of heaven and the thearch-on-high. This presupposes the (at the very least, tacit) participation of Wu and his allies, hinting towards some degree of subjectivity for individuals, beyond and between the structural operations of the Other. In The Lacanian Subject, Fink identifies a “gap” or shortfall in the structural operations of the Other in discourse that can only be accounted for by a subject. The “gap” in question is a fissure between the individual’s conscious discourse, on the one hand, and discourse in the unconscious, on the other. Conscious discourse, according to Lacan, is fixated on the ego. The ego is “a construct, a mental object” formulated in infancy.461 The infant’s initial lived experience of their body is disjointed, assorted, and continuous with the external environment. However, the infant later comes to recognise their own image in a mirror, a photograph, a doll, or another reflective 461 Lacanian Subject, 36. 216 medium. This image possesses formal attributes that did not figure into the infant’s immediate embodied experience: it is cohesive, coordinated, and discrete. 462 Of course, this cohesive mirror image is also inverted, partial, skewed, segmented, and generally misleading, relative to the infant.463 Nonetheless, the infant comes to take the enantiomorph for their own self, augmenting and complicating it over time into a “vast global image.” 464 It is this complicated, constructed, and fundamentally inaccurate “global image” that Lacan refers to as “ego”: “Such images are invested, cathected, and internalized by a child… [into a] crystallization or sedimentation of ideal images, tantamount to a fixed, reified object with which a child learns to identify, which a child learns to identify with him or herself.”465 Taking this “ineluctably false sense of self” to be his or her true self, the individual accordingly weaves together post-hoc rationalisations of meaningless, unconsciouslydetermined behaviour so as to form meaningful symbolic chains that consolidate, protect, and shore it up.466 It is this ego-fixated ciphering – “what we consciously think and believe about ourselves” – that constitutes conscious discourse. 467 Discourse in the Lacanian unconscious is similarly subject to the structural operations of the linguistic Other. Not only does the unconscious draw on components of natural language as its raw material, but it also ciphers symbolic chains, just like natural language and discourse.468 This ciphering gives rise to syntactic rules that, as explained above, both “[T]he mirror [presents] a unified surface appearance similar to that of the child’s far more capable, coordinated, and powerful parents. …” Lacanian Subject, 36. 463 For the complexities of the relationship between objects and their mirror images, see Martin Gardner, The Ambidextrous Universe: Left, Right, and the Fall of Parity (London: Pelican, 1970). 464 Lacanian Subject, 36. 465 Ibid. 466 Ibid., 45. 467 Ibid., 3. 468 Ibid., 8. 462 217 “[determine] what is yet to come” in the symbolic chain, 469 obliging it to extend along a certain course, and moreover “keep track of […] previous components,” retaining and memorialising the chain’s past contents.470 “[T]he same kinds of relationships exist among unconscious elements as exist in any given language among the elements that constitute it. […] [L]anguage, as it operates at the unconscious level, obeys a kind of grammar, that is, a set of rules that governs the transformation and slippage that goes on therein. […] [T]he unconscious is nothing but a ‘chain’ of signifying elements, such as words, phonemes, and letters, which ‘unfolds’ in accordance with very precise rules over which the ego or self has no control whatsoever.”471 As a consequence, the unconscious is ridden with others’ talk, others’ thought, and – coextensively – others’ desire. In short, the unconscious corresponds to the discourse of the Other: “[T]he unconscious is the Other’s discourse […] full of other people’s talk, other people’s conversation, and other people’s goals, aspirations, and fantasies…”472 While both conscious and unconscious discourse manifest the structural operations of the Other, they represent two entirely discrete “sites” or “aspects” of its extension. As explained above, conscious ciphering labours to produce chains of signification that consolidate the ego. Therefore, it is “grounded in the realm of meaning, striving to make sense of the world,” where “sense” refers to the semantic aspect of signification.473 By contrast, ciphering in the unconscious unfolds without intention or aim. Signifiers link up haphazardly and unreflexively on the basis of semantic, phonetic, and graphical relationships alike. 474 At any Lacanian Subject, 19. Ibid., 18. “[T]hings are remembered for [us] by the signifying chain. […] “The unconscious cannot forget.” Ibid. 20. 471 Ibid., 8–9. 472 Ibid., 9–10. 473 Ibid., 21. 474 “Lacan proposes that unconscious processes have little if anything whatsoever to do with meaning.” Ibid. Accordingly, in the clinical setting, the analyst does not try to find “meaning” in the 469 470 218 one time, the individual situates themselves in one of these two separate, mutually-irreducible discourses, either engaging in creating meaning for the ego, or floating freely in the “yet more foreign” discourse of the unconscious, ciphering relentlessly and indiscriminately (and irrespective of the ego.)475 Taken in isolation, neither discourse proffers any basis for subjectivity. 476 Whichever position the individual situates themselves in, they find themselves caught up in the structural operations of the Other. The persistent and insoluble concomitance of these mutuallyexclusive discourses in individual psychoanalytic experience does, however, bespeak the subject’s presence. As Fink explains, “[t]he splitting of the I into ego (false self) and unconscious brings into being a surface, in a sense, with two sides,” neither of which suffices to describe the entire shape.477 In other words, the split between these co-extant discourses presupposes the presence of something other than them. Fink asserts that this is the (first) site of subjectivity; the split between the discourses that make up individual psychoanalytic experience locates the subject, if only as a theoretical, logically inevitable remainder. This corresponds to the nature of the subjectivity suggested in the description of discourse in Wu’s embedded speech. While never seen or heard from in the discourse of deities (the Other) that extends through them, the subjectivity of individuals is nevertheless always theoretically implied as the logically indispensable “ground” that furnishes or plays host to this Other discourse in the first place. Wu’s address, as well as the rest of his actions narrated in Wu Cheng, can almost entirely analysand’s unconscious thought, but rather seeks to clarify the contours of the “altogether identifiable logic” behind its syntax. Lacanian Subject, 4. 475 Ibid., 7. 476 Both “[correspond] […] to what goes by the name of structure in the movement known as structuralism.” Ibid., 11. 477 Ibid., 45. “Though the subject is nothing here but a split between two forms of otherness – the ego as other and the unconscious as the Other’s discourse – the split itself stands in excess of the Other.” Ibid. 46. 219 be understood as ego-fixated conscious discourse. The structural ciphering of the Other weaves together meanings that shore up an (inevitably incomplete) image of the king as the deliverer of “a great rectification to Shang.” However, in the sentence at the opening of Wu’s embedded speech, there is a moment that, I argue, indicates the presence of a discourse apart from that of the ego. 惟有道曾孫周王發，將有大正于商。 It is Fa, king of Zhou, by generations of descendants, [who] has the way, [by whom] there will be a great rectification to Shang. The reflexive use of the archaic copula wei 惟 (“It is…”) affirms the speaker’s – which is to say, the speaker’s self-image’s – meaningful identification with the many credentials and projects enumerated thereafter. Wu’s image of himself is as one “[who] has the way, who will bring about a great rectification.” In this instance, the copula forms part of a conscious discourse in which Wu assents to the structural workings of the linguistic Other in the interests of shoring up the ineluctably false self-image of the ego. At the same time however, this copula construction subordinates Wu as the object of a ghostly “empty” subject. This is a purely grammatically subject, syntactically inferred in the Chinese syntax and made explicit in the translation with the dummy “It”.478 This grammatical subject exceeds what is meaningful at the level of conscious discourse. Even parsing out this wei construction as “I am”, one is still faced with an insoluble remainder to the ego-image in its discourse about itself. Of the five categories of uses of wei in the Shangshu proposed by Yin Diting and Liu Xizhen 劉席珍, the wei here could correspond to the copula (shi 是), to “there is only…”, “it is only…” (zhi you 只有), or to an auxiliary particle “enhancing the tone, emphasising the following text, or lodging hopes, ” (“起加重語氣，強調下文或寄託希望等作用,” “Shangshu ‘wei’ zi lishi” 《尚書》“惟”字例釋, Jishou daxue xuebao 吉首大學學報 [1980 no.1]: 63–6: 65.) In all cases, the analysis of this clause as a (at the very least, implicit) copula still stands. 478 220 Overall, the wei construction indicates that there is always ciphering that exceeds what the ego’s discourse is trying to mean. In other words, although this construction does not manifest unconscious ciphering per se, it does manifest how discourse itself outstrips the ego, whence undirected unconscious ciphering is a logical eventuality. This inevitable unconscious discourse runs alongside its conscious counterpart. The fact that Wu can, at any one time, assume either discourse – a fact that cannot be encompassed or contained within the structural workings of either one – would indicate his theoretical subjectivity, determining the discourse beyond and between its autonomous structural operations. 221 Conclusion In part One of the present chapter, I explored what Wu’s address, including his embedded speech, says about discourse. I argued this address construes discourse as the Lacanian Other, referring to a fully autonomous entity that directs, consolidates, and reifies itself through “individuals’” discourses, under the power of its own structural operations. Desires and ambitions are coextensive with this self-perpetuating discourse; they, too, are determined structurally, and not by the individual. This model of discourse diverges substantially from its classical Cartesian counterpart(s), which holds that whatever discourse and desires are expressed by an individual must have originated with him or her as a self-directed subject. Nevertheless, as argued in part Two, this model of discourse is far from exclusively structuralist. A subject is always theoretically implied, as the logically indispensable “ground” from which the Other may discourse through individuals in the first place. In the Lacanian theory, this logically-inevitable subject is pinpointed to the limits of the copious structural ciphering of the Other, at the fissure between two entirely discrete “levels” or “aspects” of its extension: conscious (ego-directed) and unconscious discourse. As much as the structural operations of the Other dominates these two discourses, the “gap” between them presupposes a subject without whom the model of discourse would be incomplete. There are moments in Wu’s address where it is possible to glimpse at an unconscious discourse unfolding alongside the prevalent ego discourse – if only as a logical inevitability. The final section of Wu Cheng moreover offers an analogy for the work of this subject. As discussed in the previous chapter, this section of the text narrates Wu’s first actions as sovereign, enumerating his programme of policies and reforms. 222 一戎衣天下大定。乃反商政政由舊。釋箕子囚，封比干墓，式商容閭。散鹿臺之財，發鉅橋之粟，大賚于四海，而萬姓悅服。列爵惟五，分土惟三。建官惟賢，位事惟能。重民五教，惟食喪祭。惇信明義，崇德報功。垂拱而天下治。479 [Wu] donned military garb once and the realm was greatly settled. Thereupon he overturned Shang governance, and governance took after the old [way]. [He] released Jizi from bondage, raised an earthen mound [over] Bi Gan’s tomb, and gave a crossbar salute at Shang Rong’s gate. [He] scattered the wealth of Deer Terrace and dispensed the grains of Hard Iron Bridge, greatly bestowing [these] throughout the four seas, and so the ten thousand commoners happily submitted [to him]. [He] divided the ranks of nobility into five and allotted the lands into three. [He] set up offices [for] the worthy and placed in occupations the capable. [He] considered important for the commonfolk the Five Instructions, and food provision, mourning rites, and sacrifices. [He] was sincere in trustworthiness and illuminated propriety; [he] raised up virtue and recompensed meritorious service. [With his robes] hanging and [his hands] folded, the realm was orderly. On the surface, the passage describes a series of gestures that correspond to conscious ego discourse. Ego discourse, as discussed, is divided against the individual on two counts: not only does this discourse itself correspond to the structural operations of the linguistic Other, but that which this discourse fixates on is not the individual, but an irredeemably false representation of them (in this case, the image of Wu as the ideal ruler.) 480 As discussed in the previous chapter, this passage is bookended by parallel remarks on Wu’s changing appearance, making particular reference to his clothing. These remarks communicate shifts in Wu’s identity. “[Donning] military garb,” mentioned at the beginning, Li, Kong, and Kong, Shangshu Zhengyi, 347. As Fink moreover explains, the ego itself is also linguistically structured. The imageries making up the ego “derive from how the parental Other ‘sees’ the child and are thus linguistically structured. Indeed, it is the symbolic order that brings about the internalization of mirror and other images…” Lacanian Subject, 36. 479 480 223 refers to a martial identity. Wu’s appearance “[with his robes] hanging and [his hands] folded” at the end of the passage refers to an opposite identity, a sage and effective ruler who, having eliminated unrest from the realm, is left to sit with stilled hands and neatly hanging robes. This motif suggests that Wu’s identities are, like his attire, something that he inhabits according to the occasion. The allegory of identity-as-attire glosses the work of the Wu Cheng-Lacanian subject. While the discourses that the individual can assume may not be “their own”, the act of assumption, of “taking off” one discourse and “putting on” another, does indicate a kind of subjectivity. Much how the persona of Wu emerges through the assumption of attire corresponding to different, even opposite identities, the discursive subject emerges through the assumption of mutually-irreconcilable structural discourses. Overall, in Wu Cheng, the individual cannot come to rest in a discourse that does not correspond to the Other. Wu’s address and other actions narrated in the text do not correspond to his “own” thought, speech, or desire, but rather to the structural ciphering of the Other in ego discourse. Nevertheless, the subject is presupposed, if only as a theoretical remainder, in the movement between different discourses – analogised as the changing of fixed sets of attire – which cannot be accounted for in these discourses’ autonomous structural operations. 224 Conclusion to chapters Five, Six, and Seven: Wholeness in Huainanzi versus Wu Cheng In this segment, I discuss and compare the ways in which Huainanzi and Wu Cheng, per the readings in the preceding chapters, constitute wholes. Building from the discussion in the conclusion to chapters Three and Four, I expand my account of Huainanzi’s geometrical wholeness to suggest that this also refers to a coherent metaphysics, insofar as Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema has the capacity to observe its own fractal nature through the consciousnesses of its parts. Per the discussion in chapter Six, I suggest that the complete Wu Cheng, like Mu Shi, corresponds to a narrative whole, embedding a further independent structural whole within this. Per the discussion in chapter Seven, I further suggest that King Wu’s direct and embedded speech in Wu Cheng correspond to a consistent theory of discourse, manifesting an additional whole in this respect. As noted in the Introduction, Huainanzi and Wu Cheng share an intertextual unit; this describes King Wu observing rituals to honour worth ministers unjustly punished by the Shang. Comparing how this same part is incorporated into and gives rise to these wholes, I show that while Wu Cheng’s narrative whole corresponds to the complete text and the complete text only, its coherent theory of discourse, while sufficiently formulated through the exposition of Wu’s direct speech, may be enriched by other parts of the text. This “wholeness of theory” has more in common with Huainanzi’s coherent metaphysics, which similarly is not tied to any one amount or area of the text. As argued in the conclusion to chapters Three and Four, the wholeness of Huainanzi refers to the geometrical whole of its fractal world-schema, wherein any part corresponds to the 225 whole. However, this world also has the capacity to observe its own fractal unity, through its conscious beings. In Huainanzi, individuals are able to demonstrate “sincerity” (cheng). As shown in the analysis in chapter Five, “sincerity” refers to a cognitive or spiritual state in which a conscious agent is able to apprehend that the finite forms of the default natural order – themselves included – in fact belong to an infinitely inter-connected unity of un-differentiated qi. In this state, this agent is able to perform remote “interactions” with any (or even all) forms, though these “interactions” (which I referred to as “total resonance”) are really the intra-actions of a fractal whole. Therefore, “sincerity,” as well as the total resonance that this mindset enables, refers to the Huainanzian world observing its own fractal unity through the consciousness of its fractal part(s). The intertextual unit appears in the chapter “Tai Zu Xun”. Just like any other “parts” in Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema, the ritual activities that this unit describes correspond to this geometrical whole. …表商容之閭，封比干之墓，解箕子之囚。 … [he installed] a plaque at the gate of Shang Rong, raised an earthen mound [over] the tomb of Bi Gan, and released Jizi from imprisonment. However, as shown in the analysis in chapter Five, these rituals activities are performed by a ruler (Wu) who is enacting sincerity. As such, they not only structurally correspond to the Huainanzian cosmic whole, but moreover refer to this cosmic whole’s conscious observation of its own fractal unity. The intertextual unit from “Lan Ming Xun”, discussed in the conclusion to chapters Three and Four, refers to the same. This unit, to recap, describes Wu brandishing his weapons as he prepares to do battle at Mu. 226 於是武王左操黃鉞，右秉白旄，瞋目而撝之… At this, King Wu grasped his yellow battle-axe in his left hand and gripped his white mao banner in his right. His eyes wide, he brandished these… Following “he brandished these…”, the text immediately continues: … 曰：「余任天下，誰敢害吾意者！」於是，風濟而波罷。 … saying, “I am charged with the realm; who dare harm my ambition?!” With this, the winds abated and the waves ceased. Brandishing his weapons, Wu quells the raging winds and waters, clearing the way to battle with the Shang. This is an act of total resonance. Like the activities described in the unit from “Tai Zu Xun”, this act not only structurally corresponds to the cosmic whole as its fractal part, but moreover refers to the whole consciously observing its own fractal nature. These similarities between the intertextual units from “Lan Ming Xun” and “Tai Zu Xun” are moreover illustrative of a further characteristic of Huainanzi’s world-schema: any part therein is entirely interchangeable with any other, insofar as, irrespective of topical content, they are equal to the structural task of standing as a microcosm for the whole. Like Mu Shi, the complete Wu Cheng forms a narrative whole, insofar as the relationships between the text’s different parts with respect to narrative voice and sequence form a cohesive message: King Wu’s verbatim speech is most important among the events depicted. In chapter Six, I divided Wu Cheng into five sections. The first section describes several ritual gestures performed by Wu to affirm his newly-secured mandate to rule, all taking place between day guisi in the first lunar month and the time of the newly waxing moon in the fourth month. They are narrated in the impersonal voice in a pseudo-documentary style. The second section corresponds to a direct address by King Wu to the gathered sovereigns. This is 227 delivered once the moon is newly waning in the fourth lunar month. Embedded in this direct speech is a further speech – corresponding to the third section – which Wu originally delivered while en route to attack Shang. The fourth section returns to pseudo-documentary third-person narration, giving a graphic description of the conflict at Mu. The fifth section, which uses a discursive, non-documentary third-person voice, presents Wu as an effective peacetime ruler who cultivates stability in the realm. The events of the fourth and fifth sections take place between day wuwu in the second lunar month and the newly-waxing moon in the fourth month. As discussed in chapter Six, the Wu Cheng narrative jumps back in time after the third section. The sequentially-middle events are chronologically latest within the overall period covered, while the sequentially-final string of events corresponds to the chronological middle. In other words, the complete Wu Cheng forms a temporal “horseshoe,” transposing Wu’s direct address and embedded speech to the middle of the narrative sequence. Moreover, as a result of this narrative sequence, the direct speech of Wu’s address and embedded speech is flanked to either side by two “frames” of third-person narration. (This narrative structure was clearly diagrammatised in table 2.) This modulation of narrative sequence and narrative voice has the effect of highlighting Wu’s address and embedded speech as the Wu Cheng’s “principle insertion” – the asymmetrical centre of an otherwise symmetrical whole. This identifies Wu’s “verbatim” words as the most important part of the text. Overall, per the reading in chapter Six, the complete Wu Cheng corresponds to a narrative whole inasmuch as the interplay of narrative sequence and narrative voice across its five sections give rise to a cohesive statement: King Wu’s verbatim speech is the most important part of the text. (In chapter Six, I argued that, in this way, Wu Cheng manifests the paradigmatic shu text.) 228 The intertextual unit appears in the fifth section of the text, where it refers to three of Wu’s actions to restore peace and stability in his newly-expanded kingdom. 釋箕子囚，封比干墓，式商容閭。 [He] released Jizi from bondage, raised an earthen mound [over] Bi Gan’s tomb, and gave a crossbar salute at Shang Rong’s gate. In chapter Six, I argued that the preceding (fourth) section of the text is integral to the creation of the principle insertion of Wu’s verbatim speech, as described above. (To recap, it is through the chronological derangement of this fourth section within the overall Wu Cheng that the temporal “horseshoe” pushing Wu’s speech to the heart of the narrative sequence is created.) In this chapter, I argued that the fifth section forms an indispensable coda to this fourth section. Its fair and amicable depiction of the king serves to mediate against the fourth section’s description of a ruthless warrior, creating an overall more sympathetic characterisation of the monarch whose speech the text goes to such pains to highlight. This section of the text moreover redoubles the message of its content on the formal level. As shown in chapter Six, the text of this entire section exhibits multiple layers of structural parallelism, embodying the stability that it describes Wu achieving in the realm. This is a rhetorically sophisticated form of argument, making the section especially effective as damage control for Wu’s depiction in the preceding section. On account of this high degree of formal integration, the section moreover manifests a structural whole in its own right. As part of this section of Wu Cheng, the intertextual unit represents an indispensable support to another section of the text (fourth) that plays a key role in the structuring of narrative sequence and voice in Wu Cheng, which, as discussed above, makes the statement that Wu’s speech is paramount within the text. The unit thereby plays a role in Wu Cheng’s narrative whole. As discussed, the fifth section also represents a structural whole in its own 229 right. The entire text of this section exhibits multiple layers of structural parallelism, embodying the stability that it describes Wu achieving in the realm. Corresponding to one block of parallel text integrated within this, the intertextual unit thereby plays a role in the structural whole of Wu Cheng’s fifth section as well. The direct address and embedded speech of Wu Cheng also corresponds to an exposition of a whole and consistent theory of discourse. In the direct address, to recap, Wu reviews the multi-generational programme of Zhou cultural expansion and explains that it has fallen to him to continue this. And in the speech embedded in this address, he catalogues the Shang king’s misdemeanours, explaining how he and his allies will reprimand the Shang king through war. Following the analysis in chapter Seven, the programme of Zhou cultural expansion described in Wu’s direct address does not originate with any one Zhou patriarch. Rather, this is a self-determining, self-perpetuating discourse that corresponds to the Lacanian linguistic Other. The line “Nine years [later], the great unification was [still] not yet brought [to completion], and it seemed that I, the little one, would carry out his ambition” testifies to the extraneously-determined nature of desire, which, in a Lacanian model, is coextensive with this linguistic Other. In the embedded speech, Wu’s description of the thearch-on-high and heaven interpolating Zhou’s punitive responses to the Shang formulate the intrusive effect of this Other within the field of individual experience. Taken together, Wu’s address and embedded speech construe a cohesive theory of discourse as something like the Lacanian Other, referring to a fully autonomous entity that extends itself through “individuals’” discourses, under the power of its own structural operations. But as shown in the second part of the chapter, this structural theory of discourse nevertheless leaves room for subjectivity, in the form of a “gap” or shortfall between 230 different incarnations of the structural operations of the Other within individual psychoanalytic experience. This shortfall implies some subjectivity for Wu in his endeavours, if only as a theoretical remainder at the limits of the Other’s surfeit of structural ciphering. Overall then, the direct address and embedded speech of Wu Cheng represent an exposition of a whole and consistent theory of discourse. The intertextual unit (“[He] released Jizi from bondage…”) falls outside of this address, appearing in the middle of the text’s fifth section, where it simply refers to a further example of the structural operations of discourse at work in Wu’s actions. Nevertheless, as seen in the conclusion to chapter Seven, the opening and closing lines of this fifth section, which describe Wu changing his attire, serve as a gloss the role of the subject in discourse. While the discourses that the individual can assume may not be “their own”, the act of assumption, of “taking off” one discourse and “putting on” another, does indicate a kind of subjectivity. This serves to show that while Wu’s direct and embedded speech are sufficient to proffer an exposition of this theory of discourse, other parts of the narrative may also enrich it. To conclude, per my reading in chapter Five, Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema has the capacity to observe its own fractal nature, through the consciousness of its fractal part(s) (which are, of course, in turn, the whole.) In this way, Huainanzi’s wholeness refers not only to a geometrical wholeness, but also to a consistent metaphysics. 481 This is reflected in the dual functions of the activity described in the intertextual unit, which, within the context of this whole, not only structurally refers to the whole (as its fractal part), but moreover, in its reference to “sincerity,” refers to the whole’s capacity for conscious reflexive self- Perhaps these aspects are not separate at all, and Huainanzi is claiming that consciousness is inherent to reality itself. 481 231 observation. As demonstrated in the discussion of this intertextual unit alongside the intertextual unit from the conclusion to chapters Three and Four, any part in this fractal world-schema is entirely interchangeable with any other, insofar as the geometrical integrity of the whole is concerned. Per my reading in chapter Six, the complete Wu Cheng, like Mu Shi, corresponds to a narrative whole that embeds within it a further, structural whole. This is seen in the function of the intertextual unit, which has a role in both. As shown in the discussion of this unit, the structural whole of the fifth and final section has an integral role in giving rise to Wu Cheng’s narrative whole, and so while this section might be detached from the complete text and still stand on its own, the narrative whole cannot stand without it. In addition to all this, the direct address and embedded speech of Wu Cheng represent an exposition of a consistent theory of discourse, manifesting an additional whole. The discussion of the intertextual unit serves to show that, while Wu’s verbatim speech is sufficient to formulate the complete theory, other parts of the narrative may nevertheless also enrich it. 232 Conclusion This project asks, what does it mean for a text to be a whole? How do texts achieve wholeness? And how can one determine when they do so? The preceding five chapters offered readings of Mu Shi, Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng. In the two concluding analyses interspersed between these chapters, I drew on these readings to mount a discussion of the way(s) in which the texts constitute wholes, focused around a comparison of how these wholes incorporated, and emerged from, the same part (an intertextual unit.) Per my analysis, the complete Mu Shi corresponds to a narrative whole that embeds within it a further, structural whole. While the structural whole (the harangue itself) may be detached from the complete text and still stand on its own, the narrative whole cannot stand without it. The wholeness of Huainanzi, by contrast, refers to the geometrical wholeness of a fractal world-schema that emerges through the rule of “the part equals the whole.” Any part of this schema is entirely interchangeable with any other, insofar as the geometrical integrity of the whole is concerned. I moreover suggested that, besides a geometrical whole, Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema also refers to a consistent coherent metaphysics, insofar as it has the capacity to observe its own fractal nature through the consciousnesses of its part(s) (which are, of course, in turn, the whole.) Unlike Mu Shi’s narrative whole, Huainanzi’s geometrical metaphysical schema does not correspond to any specific amount of nor selection from the text; it is manifested and maintained through any extract that sufficiently establishes its structuring rule (with any further additional text being retroactively subsumed within the allencompassing whole.) Similar to the “whole” of Huainanzi’s consistent metaphysics is the “whole” of Wu 233 Cheng’s consistent theory of discourse. This, too, is not exclusively tied to any one amount or area of the text; formulated in King Wu’s direct and embedded speech, other parts of the text were also seen to enrich its exposition. In contrast with this is Wu Cheng’s narrative whole, which, like Mu Shi’s narrative whole, corresponds to the complete text and the complete text only. Also like Mu Shi’s, Wu Cheng’s narrative whole embeds a further, independent structural whole within it. In the project introduction, I outlined four categories of conceptions of wholeness that hold weight in the scholarship of early Chinese texts. These are: wholeness as the function of a text’s resemblance to an ideal original form; wholeness as the extent of a text’s resemblance to an earlier historical form; wholeness as something that is achieved by text content; and lastly, structural or formal conceptions of wholeness. In the readings, I identified clear structural wholes in certain segments of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng. (This certainly supports the assertion, made in the project introduction, that the fourth paradigm of wholeness is worth exploring further, in a greater range of early Chinese texts.) The geometrical whole of Huainanzi could also be argued to belong to the category of “structural whole,” given that it consists in the relationships between forms (namely, forms of and in the world.) However, this is qualitatively very different from the structural wholes of Wu’s harangue in Mu Shi or the final section of Wu Cheng. Unlike these two text-structural wholes, Huainanzi’s fractal world-schema does not correspond to any specific amount of nor selection from the text, and may be manifested through any extract that sufficiently establishes its fractal structuring rule. The assumption of nesting fractal forms by parts of the text itself, discussed on page 152, simply represents one manifestation of an overarching geometrical whole. If this geometrical whole is to be considered a sub-category of structural wholeness at all, then at the very least it represents a very special kind of structural wholeness that, strictly speaking, refers not to structures, but shapes. 234 The remaining wholenesses identified in the analysis – the narrative wholes of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng and the coherent, whole theories of Huainanzi and Wu Cheng – arguably fit under the category of “wholeness of content.” However, as shown above, they are qualitatively very different. For one, the narrative wholes correspond to the complete texts, and the complete texts only, in full. The theories – in Huainanzi’s case, a metaphysics, and in Wu Cheng’s case, a theory of discourse – emerge through the texts, but are not so directly tied to any particular amounts or areas of these. Categorising these together betrays their qualitative differences. Overall, among the individual wholenesses described through these readings of Mu Shi, Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng, most are neither accurately nor fully represented by the four categories outlined in the introduction. More to this, several of these “individual” wholenesses are compounded with another to form a greater working whole that straddles or defies these categories: Huainanzi’s geometrical whole is the scaffold of its metaphysics, while the narrative wholes of Mu Shi and Wu Cheng are reliant on embedded structural wholes. And further still, as particularly demonstrated in the case of Wu Cheng, the exact same text may be seen to give rise to multiple wholes. In summary, the wholenesses that emerged in this project’s readings are nuanced, idiosyncratic, plural, enmeshed, and compounded. Not only can they not be apprehended in reference to the four categories laid out in the project introduction, but they moreover problematise underlying notions that, first, “text wholeness” refers to something discrete, objective, and immutable, and second, that this immutable something is a property of early Chinese texts themselves (past or past, apparent or idealised.) I would suggest that these findings are likely to be representative of the wider early Chinese corpus; to account for them, I propose to re-conceptualise “text wholeness” as referring to a function in the reading process. In other words, wholeness is negotiated and achieved not by texts, but in reading. 235 In classical metaphysics, reading, as with any process of understanding, is construed as a process whereby a subjectivity “in here” transcends itself in pursuit of an accurate cognitive representation of a separate, objective text “out there.” 482 In contrast with this, phenomenological theorists such as Husserl and Martin Heidegger (1889–1976) have argued that subjects find themselves thrown into the world, perceiving and understanding as a fact of their being “over and above [their] wanting and doing,” even before any explicit act of interpretation.483 It is impossible to see, in other words, without “seeing as.” This presupposed, factitive ground of “pre-understanding” makes interpretation possible; however, it also represents a remainder that can never be brought explicitly into the interpretation process itself. These insights threaten the hermeneutical model of classical metaphysics from both sides, eliminating both the possibility of “objective” interpretation entirely detached from (and forgetting) the situation of the interpreter, as well as a “subject” of interpretation that can be isolated from the world “out there,” as the world “out there” in fact feeds the preunderstanding that undergirds this subject’s existence. In short, both “subjective” and “objective” are inadequate as ontological categories of meaning or understanding. In the wake of this phenomenological deconstruction of the Cartesian model, multiple twentieth-century thinkers have contributed new models of reading, understanding, and interpretation as processes that are neither cognitive nor subjective, but ontological. According to Hans-Georg Gadamer (1900–2002), readers do not strive to transcend their being in the world in pursuit of pristine, objective text meaning (which, without referring to anything embedded in that same world, would itself have no value.) Instead, through ongoing movement within a hermeneutic circle, the interpreter extends the finite horizon of their own The idea that individuals can set aside their subjectivity to access the consciousness of another time or place through texts is referred to as historicism. 483 Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, second revised edition (London: Continuum Impacts, 2004), xxvi. See Husserl, Cartesian Meditations, trans. D. Cairns (Dordrecht: Kluwer 1988); and Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. J. Macquarrie and E. Robinson (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1962). 482 236 historically-situated consciousness, thereby maximising the possibility of connecting with the fixed horizons of the other – the text – such that a shared horizon can be achieved. 484 The metaphor of the “horizon” is key, as it captures the idea of something not fixed and without any substantive being of its own, and free-floating and entirely changeable as a function of vantage or standpoint.485 It is the occasion of connecting in a shared horizon that constitutes understanding. Reading, in short, is an ontological process that eclipses both text and reader. Within a Gadamerian model of reading as a constant shifting of horizons through the work of the hermeneutic circle, “text wholeness” does not refer to an immutable “objective” (or even “subjective”) category, but to a contingent hermeneutical device, movement, or strategy within this continuous ontological process. As a hermeneutical utility, “text wholeness” thereby refers to something not dissimilar to the Foucauldian author function. 486 In the gulf To use the literary context, “hermeneutic circle” refers to a mutual and circular process of understanding that takes place between the text and the reader. On encountering part of a text, the individual on this basis imagines a possible whole. This sense of the whole is informed by preconceptions and other existing awareness that the reader brings to bear. However, as the reader encounters successive parts, the imagined whole alters in response. This revised imagined whole, however, is still only a preconception; one can never “break out” of it to access objective meaning. The theoretical “field” of hermeneutics is broad and varied. A concise overview of its origins in early biblical exegesis, its various subsequent movements, and its main problems (including the hermeneutic circle) can be accessed in Richard N. Soulen, Handbook of Biblical Criticism (London: Lutterworth Press, 1977), 73 –6. 485 The idea of bringing one’s own historical consciousness to bear in reading is reflected in the term for “commentary” in traditional Chinese text scholarship, zhu 注, which literally refers to “irrigating” or “filling in” the text. Arthur Waley was acutely aware of this in his work, to give an example from modern scholarship. Mulk Raj Anand (1905–2004) recalled in his memoir Conversations in Bloomsbury that Waley once described one of his translation projects as “[n]ot a translation – but transcreation,” (London: Wildwood House, 1981), 90. Japanologist Edward Kamens recounts how, as a student, he came to learn that his favourite passage in Waley’s The Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari 源氏物語) had no discernible counterpart in the Japanese, and instead seemingly manifested Waley’s own interpretive impression; Approaches to Teaching Murasaki Shikibu’s “The Tale of Genji” (New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1993), 9–11. As Waley remarks in his “Notes on Translation,” “What matters is that a translator should be excited by the work he translates, should be haunted day and night by the feeling that he must put it into his own language, and should be in a state of restlessness and fret till he has done so.” Ivan Morris, ed., Madly Singing in the Mountains: An Appreciation and Anthology of Arthur Waley (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1970), 163; see also Eugene Chen Eoyang, The transparent eye: reflections on translation, Chinese literature and comparative poetics (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1993), 92. 486 “The author is the principle of thrift in the proliferation of meaning. […] [T]he author is not an indefinite source of significations which fill a work; the author does not precede works, he is a certain 484 237 that separates the horizon of the modern interpreter and the horizon suggested by an early Chinese text, the former is faced with various avenues along which they might direct the synthesising work of the hermeneutic circle, and the extension of their own historical consciousness, in the hopes of coming to achieve a connection. The conceptual device of “text wholeness” refers to a preconceived set of principles that serve the goal of connecting with the text and achieving understanding in a particular way. These principles would include the preference for new information that aligns with one’s preconception about the text as, for example, consistent, balanced, coherent, closed, inclusive, or exclusive, according to which this preconception will itself evolve. The particular way in which the interpreter’s horizon, informed by this preconception, ultimately connects with the text, in turn satisfies a further preconception about what this moment of fusing horizons would be like (and what form this understanding would take), which is itself transformed in the process. And so the hermeneutical circle continues, nudged by an “text wholeness-function” that also belongs to the realm of the interpreter’s consciousness and preconceptions and so will also inevitably be revised wholesale through this process. This project asks what it means for a text to be whole, and paradoxical as it may seem, “text wholeness” in the sense of a complete, final, and entire edifice of meaning is impossible to obtain, insofar as “meaning” itself is simply the by-product in a kaleidoscopic and incompletable ontological reading process. Indexed to the rich, immediate being-in-the-world functional principle by which, in our culture, one limits, excludes, and chooses; in short, by which one impedes the free circulation, the free manipulation, the free composition, decomposition, and recomposition of fiction. In fact, if we are accustomed to presenting the author as a genius, as a perpetual surging of invention, it is because, in reality, we make him function in exactly the opposite fashion. One can say that the author is an ideological product, since we represent him as the opposite of his historically real function. […] The author is therefore the ideological figure by which one marks the manner in which we fear the proliferation of meaning.” Foucault, “What Is an Author?” in Harari, Textual Strategies, 141–60: 159. For the original French, see “Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur?” Bulletin de la Société Française de Philosophie 63.3 (July–Sept. 1969): 73–104. 238 of the reader, this process is constantly buoyed up with a cushion of pre-understood preconceptions that cannot be brought into the representation of text-meaning to be scrutinised. With regards to this always-unseen surplus, one can never know, only wager, and with this wagered-upon remainder at its core, no reading is ever complete. Yet, as the phenomenological analysis summarised in this concluding discussion shows, this “wager on the meaning of meaning” is the oxygen of the explicit interpretative process in which understanding emerges.487 The “incompatibility” of the reading process is therefore not an indication of its futility, but rather keeps it open, ongoing, polyvalent, and productive, allowing for the constant re-shifting of horizons which, for Gadamer, constitutes understanding. In the very precise sense that it itself is endless, the reading process is its own end. It is in this context that any given paradigm of “text wholeness” does not refer to an immutable ontological category, but to a contingent limiting device indexing a variety of routes towards a shared horizon between text and reader. This is the conceptualisation of text wholeness I offer to stand as a meaningful account of the findings of the readings and analyses of Mu Shi, Huainanzi, and Wu Cheng in this project. Eliding to the work of scholars (like David Schaberg and Heng Du) who have previously made the case for considering hermeneutic conventions as part and parcel of early Chinese text ontologies, this re-conceptualisation of “text wholeness” does not outright refute the four conceptual paradigms of text wholeness identified in the project introduction, but rather recontextualises these, as contingent interpretive registers within a wider ontological frame. “…the wager on the meaning of meaning, on the potential of insight and response when one human voice addresses another, when we come face to face with the text and work of art or music, which is to say when we encounter the other in its condition of freedom, is a wager on transcendence. […] The conjecture is that ‘God’ is, not because our grammar is outworn; but that grammar lives and generates worlds because there is the wager on God.” George Steiner, Real Presences (London: Faber and Faber, 1989), 4. 487 239 Bibliography Allan, Sarah. Buried Ideas: Legends of Abdication and Ideal Government in Early Chinese Bamboo-Slip Manuscripts. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2016. ———. “On Shu 書 (Documents) and the origin of the Shang shu 尚書 (Ancient Documents) in light of recently discovered bamboo slip manuscripts.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 75.3 (Oct. 2012): 547–57. ———. “Sources of Western Zhou History: Inscribed Bronze Vessels by Edward L. Shaughnessy.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 55.3 (1992): 585–7. ———. The Shape of the Turtle. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991. ———. “What is a shu 書?” EASCM Newsletter 4 (2011): 1–5. Alter, Robert. The Art of Biblical Narrative. New York: Basic Books, 1981. Ames, Roger T. The Art of Rulership: A Study in Ancient Chinese Political Thought. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1983. Anand, Mulk Raj. Conversations in Bloomsbury. London: Wildwood House, 1981. Assmann, Jan. Cultural Memory and Early Civilization: Writing, Remembrance, and Political Imagination. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Austin, John L. How To Do Things with Words. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962. Baier, Annette. “Trust and Antitrust.” Ethics 96.2 (Jan. 1986): 231–60. Bal, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative. Fourth edition. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017. Boltz, William. “Reading the Early Laotzyy 老子.” Asiatische Studien/Études Asiatiques 56.3 (2005): 209–32. ———. “The Fourth-Century B. C. Guodiann Manuscripts from Chuu and the Composition of the Laotzyy.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 119.4 (Oct.–Dec. 1999): 590–608. Brooks, E. Bruce. “The Shu.” Warring States Papers 2 (2011): 87–90. 240 Butler, Judith. “Response: Performative Reflections on Love and Commitment.” Women's Studies Quarterly 39.1/2 “SAFE” (Spring/Summer 2011): 236–9. Cai Genxiang 蔡根祥. “Yan Ruoqu Shangshu guwen shuzheng Yin Zheng kaobian chanyi bushi” 閻若璩《尚書古文疏證》〈胤征〉考辨闡義補釋. In Di san jie guoji Shangshu xue xueshu yantaohui lunwen ji 第三屆國際《尚書》學學術研討會論文集, edited by Lin Ch’ing-Chang 林慶彰, Qian Zongwu 錢宗武, and Chiang Ch’iu-Hua 蔣秋華, 15–44. Taipei: Wanjuan lou, 2014. Chan Hung Kan 陳雄根 and Ho Che Wah 何志華. Xian Qin Liang Han dianji yin Shangshu ziliao huibian 先秦兩漢典籍引《尚書》資料彙編. Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press, 2003. Chan, Wing-tsit. A source book in Chinese philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008. Chang Kang 常康. “Shitan Shangshu de yuyan yishu” 試談《尚書》的語言藝術. Neimenggu shida xuebao (Hanwen zhexue shehui kexue ban) 內蒙古師大學報（漢文哲學社會科學版）(1986 no.2): 85–91. Chen Eoyang, Eugene. The transparent eye: reflections on translation, Chinese literature and comparative poetics. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1993. Chen Jie 陳絜. “Buci zhong de Chai ji yu Chai di” 卜辭中的祡祭與柴地. Zhongyuan wenhua yanjiu 中原文化研究 (Feb. 2018): 89–96. Chen Mengjia 陳夢家. Shangshu tonglun 尚書通論. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1957. ———. “‘Wang ruo yue’ kao” 王若曰考. In Shangshu tonglun 尚書通論, 163–89. Shijiazhuang: Hebei jiaoyu chubanshe, 2000. Chen Pan 陳槃. “Chunqiu dashi biaolie guo jue xing ji cunmiebiao zhuanyi xubian (yi)” 春秋大事表列國爵姓及存滅表譔異續編 (一). Zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjisuo jikan 中央研究院歷史語言研究所集刊 (Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica) 30.1/2 (March 1959): 187–232. Chen Qiyou 陳奇猷. Lüshi Chunqiu jiaoshi 呂氏春秋校釋. 4 volumes. Shanghai: Xuelin chubanshe, 1984. Cheng Shude 程樹德. Lunyu jishi 論語集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990. Cheng Yuanmin 程元敏. Shangshu xueshi 尚書學史. Taipei: Wunan tushu chubanshe, 2008. Cook, Scott, ed. Hiding the World in the World: Uneven Discourses on the Zhuangzi. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003. 241 ———. The Bamboo Texts of Guodian: A Study and Complete Translation. New York: Cornell University Press, 2012. Creel, Herrlee G. The Origins of Statecraft in China: The Western Chou Empire. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970. Csikszentmihàlyi, Mark. Readings in Han Chinese Thought. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2006. Cullen, Christopher. The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chinese Astronomical Systems (Scientific Writings from the Ancient and Medieval World). London: Routledge, 2016. Dai Junren 戴君仁. Dai Jingshan Xiansheng quanji 戴靜山先生全集. 3 volumes. Taipei: Dai Gu Zhiyuan, 1980. ———. Yan Mao Guwen Shangshu gong’an 閻毛古文尚書公案. Beijing: Zhonghua congshu weiyuanhui, 1963. De Bono, Edward. The Mechanism of Mind. London: Penguin, 1971. De Reu, Wim. “Right Words Seem Wrong: Neglected Paradoxes in Early Chinese Philosophical Texts.” Philosophy East and West 56:2 (2006): 281–300. de Warren, Nicolas. “Torture and Trust in the World. A Phenomenological Essay.” Phänomenologische Forschungen (2015): 83–99. Derrida, Jacques. Limited, Inc. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1988. Ding Ding 丁鼎 (Cheng Qili 程奇立). “Wei guwen Shangshu an pingyi” 偽古文尚書案平議. Guji zhengli yanjiu xuekan 古籍整理研究學刊 (2010 no.2): 1–8. Ding Fubao 丁福保 and Xu Shen 許慎. Shuowen jiezi gulin 説文解字詁林. 16 volumes. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1928. Dong Zuobin 董作賓. “‘Wang ruo yue’ guyi” 王若曰古義. Shuowen yuekan 說文月刊 4 (1944): 327–33. Du, Heng. “Differentiating between Textual Reuse and Intentional Citation.” Paper delivered at the Association for Asian Studies 2019 conference, Denver, Colorado, 24 th March 2019. ———. “The Author’s Two Bodies: Paratext in Early Chinese Textual Culture.” PhD dissertation. Harvard University, 2018. ———. “The Author’s Two Bodies: The Death of Qu Yuan and the Birth of Chuci zhangju 楚辭章句.” T’oung Pao 105.3–4 (2019): 259–314. 242 Du Yu 杜預, Lu Deming 陸德明, and Kong Yingda 孔穎達. Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan zhushu 春秋左傳註疏. 60 volumes. In Shisanjing zhushu 十三經註疏. Block print edition. Fujian, Jiajing reign era (1507–1567). Dylan, Bob. Biograph. Columbia Records, 1985. Elman, Benjamin A. “Philosophy (i-li) versus philology (k’ao-cheng)—the jen-hsin Tao-hsin debate.” T’oung Pao 69.4 (1983): 175–222. ———. “Yen Jo-chü’s Debt to Sung and Ming Scholarship.” Ch’ing-shih wen-t’i 3.7 (Nov. 1977): 105–13. Fink, Bruce. The Lacanian Subject: Between Language and Jouissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996. Fischer, Paul. “Authentication Studies (辨偽學) Methodology and the Polymorphous Text Paradigm.” Early China 32 (2008): 1–43. ———. “Intertextuality in the Shi Zi.” Asia Major 22.2 (2009): 1–34. Foucault, Michel. L’Archéologie du savoir. Paris: Gallimard, 1969. ———. “Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur?” Bulletin de la Société Française de Philosophie 63.3 (July–Sept. 1969): 73–104. Fung Yu-lan 馮友蘭. Zhongguo zhexueshi xinbian 中國哲學史新編. 6 volumes. Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1982–1989. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. Second revised edition. London: Continuum Impacts, 2004. Gang, Bai, Anne Cheng, Charles Le Blanc, Jean Levi, Rémi Mathieu, Nathalie Pham-Miclot, and Chantal Zheng. Philosophes taoïstes vol. 2: Huainan zi. Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade No. 494. Paris: Gallimard, 2003. Gardner, Martin. The Ambidextrous Universe: Left, Right, and the Fall of Parity. London: Pelican, 1970. Ge Hong 葛洪. Shenxian zhuan 神仙傳. Wenyuange siku quanshu 文淵閣四庫全書 volume 1059, 253–311. Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1986. Gedalecia, David. “Neo-Confucian Classicism in the Thought of Wu Ch’eng.” Bulletin of Sung and Yuan Studies 14 (1978): 12–21. Gentz, Joachim and Dirk Meyer, ed. Literary Forms of Argument in Early China. Leiden: Brill, 2015. Ghyka, Matila. The Geometry of Art and Life. New York: Dover, 1977. 243 Goldin, Paul. “Insidious Syncretism in the Political Philosophy of Huai-nan-tzu.” Asian Philosophy 9.3 (1999): 165–91. Gotō Asatarō 後藤朝太郎. Enanji 淮南子. Kokuyaku kambun taisei 國譯漢文大成 11. Tokyo: Kokomin bunko kankōkai, 1921. Graham, A. C. Chuang-tzǔ: The Inner Chapters. Reprint. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2001. Grebnev, Yegor. “The Core Chapters of the Yi Zhou shu.” PhD dissertation. University of Oxford, 2016. Gu Jiegang 顧頡剛, ed. Gushi bian 古史辨. Volume 2. Beiping: Pushe, 1930. ———, ed. Gushi bian 古史辨. Volume 1. Beiping: Pushe, 1927. ———. Shangshu tongjian 尚書通檢. Beiping: Harvard Yanjing Academy, 1936. ———. Shilin zashi chubian 史林雜識初編. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1963. ———. “Yi Zhou Shu ‘Shifu’ pian jiaozhu xieding yu pinglun” 逸周書世俘篇校註寫定與評論. Wenshi 文史 2 (1963): 1–42. Guo Moruo 郭沫若. Jiaguwen heji 甲骨文合集. 13 volumes. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1979. Guo Qingfan 郭慶藩. Zhuangzi jishi 莊子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1961. Hall, Kira. “Performativity.” Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 9.1–2 (2000): 184–7. Hansen, Chad. Language and Logic in Ancient China. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1983. Hanshu 漢書. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962. Hao Mingchao 郝明朝. “Lun Shangshu de wenxue jiazhi” 論《尚書》的文學價值. Qi Lu xuekan 齊魯學刊 (Qi Lu Journal) (1998 no.4): 15–21. Hao Yixing 郝懿行. Shanhaijing jianshu 山海經箋疏. Xuxiu siku quanshu 續修四庫全書 volume 1264, 125–289. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1995. Harari, Josué V., ed. Textual Strategies: Perspectives in Post-Structuralist Criticism. New York: Cornell University Press, 1979. Harbsmeier, Christoph (何莫邪), and Jiang Shaoyu 蔣紹愚, ed. Thesaurus Linguae Sericae (Hanxue wendian 漢學文典). <http://tls.uni-hd.de/>. Accessed 19/9/2019. Hattori Unokichi 服部宇之吉. Enanji 淮南子. Kambun taikei 漢文大系 20. Tokyo: Fuzambo, 1915. 244 He Ning 何寧. Huainanzi jishi 淮南子集釋. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2014. Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Translated by J. Macquarrie and E. Robinson. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1962. Henderson, John B. The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology. New York: Columbia University Press, 1984. Hendrix, Jimi. Electric Ladyland. Reprise Records, 1968. Hofstadter, Douglas R. Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern. London: Penguin, 1993. Hong Liangji 洪亮吉. Chunqiu Zuo Zhuan gu 春秋左傳詁. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987. Hong Xingzu 洪興祖. Chuci buzhu 楚辭補注. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983. Hou Hanshu 後漢書. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1965. Hu Nianyi 胡念貽. “Shangshu de sanwen yishu ji qi zai wenxueshi shang de diwei he yingxiang” 《尚書》的散文藝術及其在文學史上的地位和影響. Shehui kexue zhanxian 社會科學戰線 (1981 no.1): 224–34. Huang Huaixin 黃懷信. Yi Zhou Shu huijiao jizhu 逸周書彙校集注. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007. Huang Hui 黄暉. Lunheng jiaoshi (fu Liu Pansui jijie) 論衡校釋 (附劉盼遂集解). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990. Hubei sheng Jingmen shi bowuguan 湖北省荊門市博物館, ed. Guodian chu mu zhujian 郭店楚墓竹簡. Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1998. Hulsewé, A. F. P. “Royal Rebels.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 69 (1981): 315–25. Husserl, Edmund. Cartesian Meditations. Translated by D. Cairns. Dordrecht: Kluwer 1988. ———. Erfahrung und Urteil, Hamburg: Meiner Verlag, 1993. Institute of Archaeology, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. Yin Zhou jinwen jicheng shiwen 殷周金文集成釋文. Volume 3. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Chinese Culture University Press, 2001. Iser, Wolfgang. The Act of Reading. London: John Hopkins Press, 1978. Jiang Shanguo 蔣善國. Shangshu zongshu 尚書綜述. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1988. 245 Jiao Xun 焦循. Mengzi Zhengyi 孟子正義. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987. Jin Jiuhong 金久紅. “Shangshu Mu Shi yu Yin Zhou lishi” 《尚書·牧誓》與殷周歷史. Handan shizhuan xuebao 邯鄲師專學報 (Journal of Handan Teachers College) 14.4 (Dec. 2004): 30–4. Kamens, Edward. Approaches to Teaching Murasaki Shikibu’s “The Tale of Genji”. New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1993. Kania, Andrew. “All play and no work: An ontology of jazz.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 69.4 (2011): 391–403. Karlgren, Bernhard. Glosses on the Book of Documents. Stockholm: Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities, 1970. Keenan, Douglas. “Astro-historiographic chronologies of early China are unfounded.” East Asian History 23 (2002): 61–8. Keitel, Evelyne. Reading Psychosis: Readers, Texts and Psychoanalysis. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989. Kelley, David H., and Eugene F. Milone. Exploring Ancient Skies: A Survey of Ancient and Cultural Astronomy. Second edition. New York: Springer, 2011. Kern, Martin. “Beyond the Mao Odes: Shijing Reception in Early Medieval China.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 127 (2007): 131–42. ———. “Excavated Manuscripts and Their Socratic Pleasures: Newly Discovered Challenges in Reading the ‘Airs of the States’.” Études Asiatiques/Asiatische Studien 61.3 (2007): 775–93. ———. “Lost in Tradition: The Classic of Poetry We Did Not Know,” Hsiang Lectures on Chinese Poetry 5 (2010): 29–56. ———. “Quotation and the Confucian canon in early Chinese manuscripts: the case of ‘Zi Yi’ (Black robes).” Asiatische Studien/Études Asiatiques 59.1 (2005): 293–332. ———. “Shi Jing Songs as Performance Texts: A Case Study of ‘Chu Ci’ (Thorny Caltrop).” Early China 25 (2000): 49–111. ———, ed. Text and Ritual in Early China. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2005. ———. “The Emigration of German Sinologists 1933–1945: Notes on the History and Historiography of Chinese Studies.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 118.4 (1998): 507–29. ———. “The Performance of Writing in Western Zhou China.” In The Poetics of Grammar and the Metaphysics of Sound and Sign, edited by Sergio La Porta and David Shulman, 109– 76. Leiden: Brill, 2007. 246 ———. “Tropes of Music and Poetry: From Wudi (141–87 BCE) to 100 CE.” In China’s Early Empires: A Re-Appraisal, edited by Michael Loewe and Michael Nylan, 480–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. ——— and Dirk Meyer, ed. Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy: Studies in the Composition and Thought of the Shangshu (Classic of Documents). Leiden: Brill, 2017. Kikuchi Bankō 菊地晚香 (Sankurō 三九郎). Enanji 淮南子. Kanseki kokujikai zensho 漢籍國字解全書 43–4. Tokyo: Waseda daigaku shuppanbu, 1917. Kjellberg, Paul and P. J. Ivanhoe, ed. Essays on Skepticism, Relativism, and Ethics in the Zhuangzi. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996. Klein, Esther. “Were there ‘Inner Chapters’ in the Warring States? A New Examination of the Evidence about the Zhuangzi.” T’oung Pao 96 (2011): 299–369. Kohn, Livia, ed. Daoism Handbook. Leiden: Brill, 2000. ——— and Harold Roth, ed. Daoist Identity: History, Lineage, and Ritual. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 2002. Kong Chao 孔晁 and Wang Yinglin 王應麟. Zhoushu wanghui pian buzhu 周書王會篇補注. In Yi Zhou Shu yanjiu wenxian jikan 逸周書研究文獻輯刊 volume 1, edited by Song Zhiying 宋志英 and Chao Yuepei 晁岳佩, 369–446. Beijing: Guojia tushuguan chubanshe, 2015. Lacan, Jacques. Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English. Translated by Bruce Fink. New York: Norton, 2007. Lagerwey, John and Marc Kalinowski, ed. Early Chinese Religion, Part One: Shang Through Han (1250 BC-220 AD): Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 4, China. 2 volumes. Leiden: Brill, 2008. ——— and Pengzhi Lü, ed. Early Chinese Religion, Part Two: The Period of Division (220589 AD): Handbook of Oriental Studies, Section 4, China. 2 volumes. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Lai, Ming-chiu. “Legitimation of Qin-Han China: From the Perspective of the Feng and Shan Sacrifices (206 B.C.–A.D. 220).” In The Legitimation of New Orders: Case Studies in World History, edited by Philip Yuen-sang Leung, 1–26. Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press, 2007. Laing, R. D. The Divided Self. London: Penguin, 1965. Lakoff, George and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By. Revised edition. Chicago; London: University of Chicago Press, 2003. 247 Lau, D. C. 劉殿爵 and Cheng Fong Ching 陳方正, ed. Huainanzi zhuzi suoyin 淮南子逐字索引. Hong Kong: Commercial Press, Institute of Chinese Studies Ancient Chinese Texts Concordance Series, 1992. ——— and ———, ed. Lunheng zhuzi suoyin 論衡逐字索引. Hong Kong: Commercial Press, Institute of Chinese Studies Ancient Texts Concordance Series, 1996. Le Blanc, Charles. “From Ontology to Cosmology: Notes on Chuang Tzu and Huai-nan Tzu.” In Chinese Ideas About Nature and Society: Studies in Honour of Derk Bodde, edited by Charles Le Blanc and Susan Blader, 117–29. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1987. ———. Huai-Nan Tzu 淮南子: Philosophical Synthesis in Early Han Thought: The Idea of Resonance (Kan-Ying 感應) With a Translation and Analysis of Chapter Six. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1985. Legge, James. The Chinese Classics. Volume 3, part 1, the Shoo King or the Book of Historical Documents. London: Trübner; Hong Kong: London Missionary Society Press, 1865. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. Anthropologie structurale. Paris: Plon, 1958. ———. Myth and Meaning. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978. Lewis, Mark Edward. Writing and authority in Early China. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999. Li Daoping 李道平. Zhouyi jijie zuanshu 周易集解纂疏. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1994. Li Jidong 李吉東. “Shangshu Mu Shi shishi jie” 《尚書·牧誓》誓師解. Qi Lu xuekan 齊魯學刊 (Qi Lu Journal) 204.3 (2008): 45–8. Li Tai 李泰. Kuodi zhi yi 括地志一. Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編 volumes 3096–7. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991. Li Xueqin 李學勤. “Lun Qinghua jian Bao Xun de jige wenti” 論清華簡《保訓》的幾個問題. Wenwu 文物 6 (2009): 75–80. ———. Qinghua daxue cang zhanguo zhujian 清華大學藏戰國竹簡 volume 1. Shanghai: Zhongxi shuju, 2010. ———. “Qinghua jian jiupian zongshu” 清華簡九篇綜述. Wenwu 文物 5 (2010): 51–7. ———, Kong Anguo 孔安國, and Kong Yingda 孔穎達. Shangshu Zhengyi 尚書正義. Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1999. 248 Liao Mingchun. A Preliminary Study on the Newly-unearthed Bamboo Inscriptions of the Chu Kingdom: An Investigation of the Materials from and about the Shangshu in the Guodian Chu Slips (in Chinese). Taipei: Taiwan Guji Publishing Co., 2001. Liu Guozhang. Introduction to the Tsinghua Bamboo-Strip Manuscripts. Leiden: Brill, 2016. Liu Qiyu 劉起釪. “Mu Shi shi yi pian zhanzheng wudao de shici” 《牧誓》是一篇戰爭舞蹈的誓詞. Zhongguo Gudaishi Luncong 中國古代史論叢 3 (1981): 161–74. ———. Shangshu xueshi 尚書學史. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1989. ———. Shangshu yuanliu ji chuanben kao 尚書源流及傳本考. Shenyang: Liaoning daxue chubanshe, 1997. Liu Renpeng 劉人鵬. “Yan Ruoqu yu guwen Shangshu bianwei: yige xueshushi de ge’an yanjiu” 閻若璩與古文尚書辨偽: 一個學術史的個案研究. PhD dissertation. Taiwan University, 1990. Liu Xiang 劉向. Zhanguoce 戰國策. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1978. Liu Xiaogan. Classifying the Zhuangzi Chapters. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994. ———. “Textual Issues in the Zhuangzi.” In Dao Companion to Daoist Philosophy, edited by Liu Xiaogan, 129–58. Dordrecht: Springer, 2014. Liu Yiqing 劉義慶. Shishuo xinyu 世說新語. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1993. Loewe, Michael. Dong Zhongshu, a “Confucian” Heritage and the Chunqiu Fanlu. Leiden: Brill, 2011. ———, ed. Early Chinese Texts: A Bibliographical Guide. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. ———. Faith, Myth, and Reason in Han China. Cambridge, MA: Hackett, 2005. ———. “Huang-Lao Thought and the Huainanzi.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Series 3, 4.3 (Nov. 1994): 377–95. ———. “The Cosmological Context of Sovereignty in Han Times.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 65.2 (2002): 342–49. Lü Xisheng 呂锡生. “Guanyu Mu Shi de chengshu niandai wenti” 關於《牧誓》的成書年代問題. In Zhongguo lishi wenxian yanjiu 中國歷史文獻研究 volume 1, edited by Zhang Shunhui 張舜徽, 48–54. Wuchang: Huazhong shifan daxue chubanshe, 1986. Ma Yong 馬雍. Shangshu shihua 尚書史話. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982. 249 Mair, Victor H., ed. Experimental Essays on Chuang-Tzu. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1983. Major, John S. Heaven and earth in early Han thought: Chapters three, four and five of the Huainanzi. Albany: State University of New York Press, c. 1993. ———, Sarah A. Queen, Andrew Meyer, and Harold D. Roth. The Essential Huainanzi. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012. Marmodoro, Anna. Everything in Everything: Anaxagoras's Metaphysics. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Maspero, Henri. La Chine Antique. Second edition. Paris: Les Presses universitaires de France, 1965. Meyer, Dirk. Documentation and Argument in Early China: The Shàngshū 尚書 (Venerated Documents) and the “Shū” Traditions. Leiden: Brill, forthcoming. ———. Philosophy on Bamboo: Text and the Production of Meaning in Early China. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Morris, Ivan, ed. Madly Singing in the Mountains: An Appreciation and Anthology of Arthur Waley. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1970. Murray, Judson B. “A Study of ‘Yao Lue’ 要略, ‘A Summary Of The Essentials’: The Huainanzi 淮南子 From the Point of View of the Postface.” Early China 29 (2004): 45–109. Needham, Joseph. Science and civilisation in China, Vol. 3, Mathematics and the sciences of the heavens and the earth. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959. ——— and Wang Ling. Science and civilisation in China, Vol. 4, Physics and Physical Technology, Part 1: Physics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962. Nicol, Janine. “Daoxuan (c.596-667) and the creation of a Buddhist sacred geography of China: an examination of the Shijia fangzhi.” PhD dissertation. SOAS University of London, 2017. Nietzsche, Friedrich. “Homer and Classical Philology.” Inaugural lecture delivered at Basel University, 28th May 1869. ———. On the Genealogy of Morality. Revised student edition. Edited by Keith AnsellPearson. Translated by Carol Diethe. Leiden: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Nylan, Michael. “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy in Han Times.” T’oung Pao Second Series 80.1/3 (1994): 83–145. ———. The Five “Confucian” Classics. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001. ———. “The Ku Wen Documents in Han Times.” T’oung Pao 81.1/3 (1995): 25–50. 250 ———. The shifting center: the original “Great plan” and later readings. Sankt Augustin: Institut Monumenta Serica; Nettetal: Steyler, 1992. Pan Li 潘莉. “Shangshu wenti de fenlei, xingzhi ji chengyin yanjiu shuping”《尚書》文體的分類、性質及成因研究述評. Shanhua 山花 (2015 no.5): 119–21. ———. Shangshu wenti leixing yu chengyin yanjiu 《尚書》文體類型與成因研究. Beijing: Zhishi chanquan chubanshe, 2016. Pang Pu 龐樸. Guodian Chu jian yu zaoqi ruxue 郭店楚簡與早期儒學. Taipei: Wunan tushu chubanshe, 2002. Pankenier, David W. “Reflections of the Lunar Aspect on Western Chou Chronology.” T’oung Pao Second Series 78.1/3 (1992): 33–76. Parkin-Gounelas, Ruth. Literature and Psychoanalysis: Intertextual Readings. London: Macmillan Education, 2001. Patrick Morgan, Daniel. “Review of Christopher Cullen, The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chinese Astronomical Systems. Scientific Writings from the Ancient and Medieval World. London; New York: Routledge, 2017, xi, 434 pp.” East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine 46: 232–36. Pelliot, Paul. “Le Chou king en caractères anciens et Le Chang chou che wen.” In Mémoires Concernant l’Asie Orientale (Inde, Asie centrale, Extrême-Orient) volume 2, edited by Emile Senart, Édouard Chavannes, and Henri Cordier, 123–76. Paris: L’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 1916. Peng Cheng 彭乘. Moke huixi 墨客揮犀. Biji xiaoshuo daguan 筆記小說大觀 volume 3, book 7. Yangzhou: Jiangsu Guangling guji keyinshe, 1984. Pound, Ezra. Shih-ching The Classic Anthology Defined by Confucius. London: Faber and Faber, 1954. Propp, Vladímir. Morphology of the Folktale. Second edition. Translated by Laurence Scott, edited by Louis A. Wagner. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1968. Puett, Michael. The Ambivalence of Creation: Debates Concerning Innovation and Artifice in Early China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001. ———. “The Temptations of Sagehood, or: The Rise and Decline of Sagely Writing in Early China.” In Books in Numbers: Seventy-Fifth Anniversary of the Harvard-Yenching Library Conference Papers, edited by Wilt L. Idema, 23–47. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007. ———. To Become A God: Cosmology, Sacrifice, and Self-Divinization in Early China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. 251 ———. “Violent Misreadings: The Hermeneutics of Cosmology in the Huainanzi.” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 72 (2000): 29–47. Qinghua daxue chutu wenxian yanjiu yu baohu zhongxin 清華大學出土文獻研究與保護中心. “Qinghua daxue cang zhanguo zhujian Bao Xun shiwen” 清華大學藏戰國竹簡《保訓》釋文. Wenwu 文物 6 (2009): 73–5. Qian Mu 錢穆. Guoshi xinlun 國史新論. Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2002. Qu Wanli 屈萬里. Shangshu jinzhu jinyi 尚書今註今譯. Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1975. ———. Shangshu shiyi 尚書釋義. Taipei: Zhonghua wenhua chuban shiye weiyuanhui, 1956. ———. Shangshu shiyi 尚書釋義. Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1982. ———. Shangshu yiwen huilu 尚書異文彙錄. Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1983. Queen, Sarah A. “Inventories of the Past: Rethinking the ‘School’ Affiliation of the Huainanzi.” Asia Major 14.1 (2001): 51–72. ———, and Michael Puett, ed. The Huainanzi and Textual Production in Early China. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Richter, Matthias. “Cognate Texts: Technical Terms as Indicators of Intertextual Relations and Redactional Strategies.” Asiatische Studien / Études Asiatiques LVI.3 (2002): 549–72. ———. “Faithful Transmission or Creative Change: Tracing Modes of Manuscript Production from the Material Evidence.” Asiatische Studien / Études Asiatiques LXIII.4 (2009): 889–908. Roth, Harold. Textual History of the Huai-nan zi. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992. ———. “Who Compiled the Chuang Tzu?” In Chinese Texts and Philosophical Contexts. Essays Dedicated to Angus C. Graham, edited by Henry Rosemont, 79–128. La Salle: Open Court, 1991. Saussy, Haun. The Problem of a Chinese Aesthetic. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993. Schaberg, David. A Patterned Past: Form and Thought in Early Chinese Historiography. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. Schuessler, Axel. A dictionary of early Zhou Chinese. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1987. 252 Searle, John R. Speech acts: An essay in the philosophy of language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969. Shaughnessy, Edward L. Before Confucius: Studies in the Creation of the Chinese Classics. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997. ———. Rewriting early Chinese texts. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. ———. Sources of Western Zhou History: Inscribed Bronze Vessels. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. ——— and Michael Loewe, ed. The Cambridge History of Ancient China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Shih Hsiang-lin. “Shang shu 尚書 (Hallowed writings of antiquity).” In Ancient and Early Medieval Chinese Literature (vol. 2): A Reference Guide, Part Two Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section 4, China, edited by David R. Knechtges, Chang Taiping, 815–30. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Shiji 史記. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959. Shijing 詩經. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2016. Sivin, Nathan. “On the Word ‘Taoist’ as a Source of Perplexity. With Special Reference to the Relations of Science and Religion in Traditional China.” History of Religions 17.3/4, “Current Perspectives in the Study of Chinese Religions” (Feb.–May 1978): 303–30. ———. “State, Cosmos, and Body in the Last Three Centuries B.C.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 55 (1995): 5–37. Soulen, Richard N. Handbook of Biblical Criticism. London: Lutterworth Press, 1977. Steiner, George. Real Presences. London: Faber and Faber, 1989. Sturgeon, Donald. Chinese Text Project. <https://ctext.org/>. Accessed 19/11/2019. ———. “Chinese Text Project: a dynamic digital library of premodern Chinese.” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 2019. 12 pages. ———. “Digital Approaches to Text Reuse in the Early Chinese Corpus.” Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture 5.2 (2018): 186–213. ———. “Text Tools for ctext.org.” <https://dsturgeon.net/texttools/>. Accessed 19/11/2019. ———. “Unsupervised identification of text reuse in early Chinese literature.” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 33.3 (2018): 670–84. Su Yu 蘇輿. Chunqiu Fanlu yizheng 春秋繁露義證. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992. 253 Sun Xidan 孫希旦. Liji jijie 禮記集解. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1989. Sun Xingyan 孫星衍. Shangshu jin gu wen zhushu 尚書今古文注疏. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2014. Sun Yirang 孫詒讓. Zhouli zhengyi 周禮正義. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987. Sun Zuoyun 孫作雲. Shijing yu Zhou dai shehui yanjiu 詩經與周代社會研究. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1966. Tao Fangqi 陶方埼. Huainan Xu zhu yitong gu 淮南許注異同詁. 1881; reprint Wenhai, c. 1968. Vankeerberghen, Griet. The Huainanzi and Liu An’s Claim to Moral Authority. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001. Vogelsang, Kai. “Inscriptions and Proclamations: On the Authenticity of the ‘Gao’ Chapters in the Book of Documents.” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 74 (2002): 138–209. Wagner, Rudolf G. The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on the Laozi. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000. Waley, Arthur. “The Book of Changes.” Bulletin of the Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities 5 (1933): 121–42. Wallacker, Benjamin. “Liu An, Second King of Huai-nan (180?-122 B. C.).” Journal of the American Oriental Society 92.1 (1972): 36–51. ———. The Huai-nan-tzu, Book Eleven: Behavior, Culture, and the Cosmos. New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1962. Wang, Aihe. Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Wang Guowei 王國維. Guantang jilin 觀堂集林. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959. ———. Wang Guowei yishu 王國維遺書. Shanghai: Shanghai shudian chubanshe, 1983. Wang Jia 王嘉. Shi Yi Ji 拾遺記. Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編 volume 749. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1939. Wang Su 王肅. Kongzi jiayu 孔子家語. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1990. Wang Wenqing 王文清. “Lun Shangshu sanwen de yishu fengge tedian” 論《尚書》散文的藝術風格特點. Shandong shehui kexue 山東社會科學 70.6 (1998): 77–9. Wang Xianqian 王先謙. Shi sanjiayi jishu 詩三家義集疏. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987. 254 Wei Zheng 魏徵, ed.. Suishu 隋書. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1973. Wu Tongfu 吳通福. Wanchu Guwen Shangshu gong’an yu Qing dai xueshu 晚出古文尚書公案與清代學術. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007. Xiao Tong 蕭統. Wenxuan 文選. Taipei: Yiwen yinshuguan, 1957. Xi Jinping 習近平. “Zai qingzhu Zhongguo remin zhengzhi xieshang huiyi chengli 65 zhounian dahui shang de jianghua” 在慶祝中國人民政治協商會議成立 65 周年大會上的講話. <http://news.xinhuanet.com/politics/2014-09/21/c_1112564804.htm>. Accessed 14/11/2019. Xu Huafeng 許華峰. “Yan Ruoqu Shangshu guwen shuzheng de bianwei fangfa” 閻若璩《尚書古文疏證》的辨偽方法. MA dissertation. Taipei Zhongyang University, 1994. Xu Jianwei 徐建委. Wenben geming: Liu Xiang he Hanshu Yiwen zhi yanjiu 文本革命：劉向和《漢書·藝文志》研究. Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2017. Xu Zongyuan 徐宗元. Diwang shiji jicun 帝王世紀輯存. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1964. Yan Ruoqu 閻若璩. Shangshu guwen shuzheng 尚書古文疏證. In Shangshu leiju chuji 尚書類聚初集 volume 5, edited by Du Songbai 杜松柏, 312–562. Taipei: Xinwenfeng chuban gongsi, 1984. Yan Xuetong. Ancient Chinese Thought, Modern Chinese Power. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013. Yan Ying 晏嬰. Yanzi chunqiu 晏子春秋. Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編 volume 511. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1939. Yang Hua 楊華. “Shangshu Mu Shi xinkao” 《尚書·牧誓》新考. Shixue Yuekan 史學月刊 (1996 no.5): 2–5. Yang Shanqun 楊善群. “Lun guwen Shangshu de xueshu jiazhi” 論古文《尚書》的學術價值. Kongzi yanjiu 孔子研究 (2004 no.5): 30–1. Yao, Zhuming. “The ‘Shangshu Question’ and Intertextuality in Early China.” Paper delivered at the Association for Asian Studies 2019 conference, Denver, Colorado, 24 th March 2019. Ye Xiucheng 葉修成. “Jin shi nian lai Shangshu redian yanjiu zongshu” 近十年來《尚書》熱點研究綜述. Lishui xueyuan xuebao 麗水學院學報 (Journal of Lishui University) 38.4 (July 2016): 86–92. ———. Xi Zhou lizhi yu Shangshu wenti yanjiu 西周禮制與《尚書》文體研究. Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2016. 255 Yin Diting 尹砥廷. “Shilun Shangshu yuyan de wenxuexing” 試論《尚書》語言的文學性. Jishou daxue xuebao (Shehui kexue ban) 吉首大學學報（社會科學版） 18.1 (1987): 61–6. ——— and Liu Xizhen 劉席珍. “Shangshu ‘wei’ zi lishi” 《尚書》“惟”字例釋. Jishou daxue xuebao 吉首大學學報 (1980 no.1): 63–6. Yu, Pauline. The Reading of imagery in the Chinese poetic tradition. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987. Yu Xingwu 于省吾. “‘Wang ruo yue’ shiyi” 王若曰釋義. Zhongguo yuwen 中國語文 (1966 no.2): 147–9. Yu Xuetang 于雪棠. “Shangshu wenti fenlei ji xingwei yu wenti de guanxi” 《尚書》文體分類及行為與文體的關係. Beifang luncong 北方論叢 196.2 (2006): 8–1. Yu Ying-shih 余英時. “Cong Song Ming ruxue de fazhan lun Qingdai sixiang shi” 從宋明儒學的發展論清代思想史. Zhongguo xueren 中國學人 2 (1970): 19–41. ——— . Lishi yu sixiang 歷史與思想. Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 2004. Yuan Ke 袁珂. Shanhaijing jiaozhu 山海經校注. Chengdu: Bashu shushe, 1992. Zhang Fenzhi, Xi Jinping: How to Read Confucius and Other Chinese Classical Thinkers. New York: CN Times Books, 2015. Zhang, Hanmo. Authorship and Text-making in Early China. Boston, MA: De Gruyter, 2018. ———. “The Lore of Liu An and the Authorship of the Huainanzi.” Monumenta Serica – Journal of Oriental Studies 64.2 (2016): 333–59. Zhang Huaitong 張懷通. Yi Zhou Shu xinyan 逸周書新研. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2013. Zhang Mu 張穆. Yan Qianqiu Xiansheng nianpu 閻潛邱先生年譜. 1845. Zhang Xitang 張西堂. Shangshu yinlun 尚書引論. Xi’an: Shaanxi renmin chubanshe, 1958. Zhang Yan 張岩. Shenhe guwen Shangshu an 審核古文《尚書》案. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2006. Zheng Xuan 鄭玄. Zhouli Zhengshi zhu 周禮鄭氏注. Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編 volumes 866–8. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1939. Zhou Zhenfu, ed. Wenxin diaolong jinyi 文心雕龍今譯. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986. Zhu Fangpu 朱芳圃. Yin Zhou wenzi shicong 殷周文字釋叢. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962. Zhu Xi 朱熹, ed. Shijing 詩經. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2013. 256 Žižek, Slavoj. How To Read Lacan. London: Granta, 2006. Zürn, Tobias. “Overgrown Courtyards and Tilled Fields: Image-based debates on governance and body-politics in the Mengzi, Zhuangzi, and Huainanzi.” Early China 41 (2018): 1–36. 257 Image Credits Cover photo Inscription of the Li gui 利簋 bronze vessel describing the Zhou attack on Shang. c. 1046 BC. National Museum of China, Beijing. <http://bbs.qxzc.com/gdzgyj/html/2016/12/469.htm>, last accessed 3/8/2020. 258

RELATED PAPERS

RELATED TOPICS

Log In

Doctorate: The wholeness of early Chinese texts: Mu Shi 牧誓, Huainanzi 淮南子, and Wu Cheng 武成

Doctorate: The wholeness of early Chinese texts: Mu Shi 牧誓, Huainanzi 淮南子, and Wu Cheng 武成

Related Papers

RELATED PAPERS

RELATED TOPICS