Rain-Praying in Eleventh-Century China Cong Ellen Zhang University of Virginia

Heaven, Spirits, and Political and Social Order: Rain-Praying in Eleventh-Century China Cong Ellen Zhang University of Virginia The centrality of agriculture in Chinese life ensured an interest in recording auspicious and abnormal climatic phenomena as well as natural disasters from the beginning of Chinese civilization. These records ranged from oracle bone and bronze inscriptions in the Shang (16th- mid-11th centuries BCE) and Zhou (1040s-256 BCE) periods to official documents and literati writing in the imperial times. Especially abundant in this body of literature was accounts of unseasonal and insufficient rainfall. A serious drought meant a poor harvest and famine for the local population. This was often followed by the disruption of social order in the forms of forced migration, banditry, and rebellions. This, along with the decreases in tax revenue and the demand for relief work, remained a major concern for the imperial state. Since the earliest times, Chinese cosmological ideas and political thought maintained that occurrences of natural disasters symbolized a breakdown of the balance and harmony between Heaven and man, often caused by irresponsible rulers and their representatives. One way to restore order and balance was through well-orchestrated ritual performances, during which the emperor or official-in-charge demonstrated his sincere concern for the suffering of the people and his utmost dedication to alleviate their miseries in exchange for the end of a disaster. Heaven and gods would then respond to the appeal, manifesting their power and benevolence while validating the legitimacy of the Son of Heaven and his rule. Rain-praying (祈雨, 禱雨, 求雨, 乞雨) ranked among the most enduring ritual traditions in Chinese history. Held at temples and shrines throughout the country, the ceremony was directed toward Heaven, dragon kings, mountain and river spirits, and a variety of local deities. The performance necessitated elaborate planning, including the building of an altar, dragon- making or painting, and the preparation of aquatic animals such as frogs or lizards. Depending on the extent of the impending disaster, the ritual could involve anyone from the emperor to members of the local communities, with prefectural and county officials being the most frequent initiators of such events. If rain fell soon after a sacrificial performance, an appreciation observance 謝雨 would follow. If not, more sacrifices might be offered. Similar rituals were also performed for snow-making, but less frequently; that is, less literature exists for snow-praying than rain-praying. The earliest transmitted texts mentioned the Shang and Zhou kings praying for rain. In the Spring and Autumn (8th-5th centuries BCE) and the Warring States Periods (5th-3rd centuries BCE), many lords presided over rain-making ceremonies. It was not until the Han Dynasty (202 BCE-220 CE), however, that the scholar Dong Zhongshu (179-104 BCE) attempted to standardize the rain-making ritual. Dong not only included a lengthy discussion of rain praying in his Chunqiu fanlu (The Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals), he also recounted an actual observance that he oversaw while serving in Jiangdu (Yangzhou, Jiangsu). Dong’s description confirmed that rain-making ceremonies were complex social and religious events that involved local officials, ritual specialists (wu or exorcists), and spectators. These ceremonies often featured the beating of drums, construction of earth dragons, incantations of prayers, and aquatic animals such as snakes, turtles, and frogs and lizards. Successive dynasties in the post- Han era routinely promulgated ritual protocols, bestowed titles on mountains and water spirits, and offered regular sacrifices in hopes for timely rainfall and good harvests. This institutionalization of the rain-making performance reflected long-standing Chinese beliefs in the power of Heaven and a wide variety of spirits, the close relationship between the natural and human realms, and the interdependency of man and divinities. The same development also confirmed the utility of rain-making as an instrument for claiming and maintaining political legitimacy. The continual centrality of the ritual aside, extant evidence reveals that while rain-making activities remained a routine component of official responsibilities, they differed greatly in their actual practice. More importantly, in extant rain-making-related texts, local officials often went beyond the “performance” aspect of their role and experience, elaborating on the larger significance of the occasion. This paper makes use of three types of Song (960-1279) sources, all written in the mid-eleventh century, to illustrate the ubiquity of rain-praying across the country as well as the ritual role of Song local officials. Another focus of the study is to examine contemporary representation of the relationship between Heaven and shen (a generic term used to denote a variety of deities, gods, and spirits), Heaven and imperial rule, as well as the relationship between shen and the common people. Two Poems on Rain-Making Thousands of extant Song poems feature seasonal rain and snow, droughts, and unusually long stretches of heat or cold. Rain-praying subsequently emerged as an important theme in Song poetry. Here I use two as examples. The first poem was written in 1040 or 1041 by Song Qi 宋祁 (998-1061) when he was serving in Shouzhou (Huainan, Anhui). The poem has a long title, “Since midsummer, there had been insufficient rainfall. Young plants withered. I then followed the late emperor’s edict, having dragons painted to request rain and praying at the Huoshan (Mount Huo) and Huaidu (Huai River) Shrines. Sacrifices were offered on the wuyin day. Rain fell on the yimao day (i.e. the next day). I respectfully composed this poem on the seasonal rain to present to my colleagues. 仲夏愆雨, 稚苗告悴, 辄按先帝诏书, 绘龙请雨, 兼祷霍山淮渎二祠, 戊寅蒇祀, 己卯获雨, 谨成喜雨诗呈官属.” 盛夏挾骄阳，于以搆炎熯。 Midsummer day, scorching sun, enough to create heat waves. 歊塵坌天蓋，烈御煽雲漢。 Dust covering up the sky, heat reaching the Milky Way. 稻穎茁然秀，涸流不勝灌。 Rice sprouts were strong and beautiful, but dried-up rivers could provide no water for irrigation. 田畯恤歲功，釋耒共愁歎。 Worried about their year’s worth of work, farmers released their hoes, lamenting together. 太守忝農使，閉閣重慚惋。 Ashamed of being in charge of agriculture, the magistrate closed his door and repented: 曾是謬政綱，曾是濫囚犴。 “Was it bad policies, was it excessive punishment?” 一食三失匕，冀亦思過半。 Being absent-minded during a meal (literally, “dropping his spoon for three times”), he stayed up to self-reflect. 馳祝訴羣望，願以身塞譴。 Hurrying to pray and convey the people’s wishes, (the magistrate was) willing to endure any punishment. 先帝隠民癠，致和格靈變。 The late emperor, sympathizing with the people’s poverty, had standardized measures that would generate miraculous changes to establish harmony. 圖龍著繪法，令甲布州縣。 He ordered the method of dragon painting to be promulgated in counties and prefectures. 愚計不知出，奉行安敢慢。 Not knowing what to do, how could I delay in following his majesty’s instruction? 外日築層壇，丙夜封舒雁。 One day, layers of the altar were built; at midnight, pheasants were prepared. 奉匜再三跪，信辭靡虚薦。 Holding the ritual vessel, I prostrated three times; my words were trustworthy, not superficial promises. 幸勿爲龍羞，敢不報神眷。 It was hoped that they would not offend the dragon, how dare we not repay shen’s kindness [if our prayer is answered]? 翼日耿弗寐，徂野視宵奠。 Having not slept the whole night, I went to the field to examine [the outcome of] the offerings the next day. 幽血粲静蠲，执事便傳讚。 Dark bloodstains remained, ritual masters conveyed their praise. 薄誠蒙昭享，距躍私自忭。 “Our humble gesture of sincerity was enjoyed.” Leaping with joy, they celebrated amongst themselves. 回車未及税，雲油默焉遍。 Returning to office, clouds had already gathered before I took a rest 窮海遂涔涔，籠山兹漫漫。 [Rain] water accumulated into pools, mists covered the mountains without end. 旱麓衆卉蘇，焦原暍氛散。 Plants on dry hills came back to life; the hot atmosphere on the scorched plains dispersed. 寸苗蔚如揠，新波鳞欲涣。 Young sprouts grew fast as if they had been pulled; [when wind blew] they looked like waves of fish scales. 何意一溉窘，有望千箱衍。 Who would have thought that my worries about the lack of irrigation has turned into prospects for an abundant harvest? 揆予乏嘉績，聖詔仰成憲。 Knowing that I lack outstanding accomplishments, it must have been the imperial edict that has made this possible. 恤祀神罔恫，昏作人胥勸。 Now that the deities have been pacified, I advise that the people work hard. 抒藻拙言詞，竊用慰羣掾。 I write these unsophisticated words to comfort my associates.1 Song Qi’s writing is revealing in several respects. First, the title itself is very informative, as we learn that a drought took place and was becoming more severe. The proper step for a local official to take was to pray for rain. The poet referred to Emperor Zhenzong (997-1022) having promulgated a protocol for this purpose, which entailed, among other things, the painting of 1 Song Qi, QSS, 4:204.2335. dragons (rather than making dragons out of earth). Instead of praying at one place, Song Qi actually made offerings at two local shrines, one for a mountain deity and the other for a river spirit. The poem begins with a description of a serious drought in progress. Naturally, this worried farmers, who were afraid that a year’s work would yield nothing. The magistrate, as the “parents” of the local population, was equally troubled. In his deliberation, Song Qi wondered if he was responsible for the disaster. Was the drought a warning from Heaven for his poor administrative performance? His concerns grew to such an extent that he could not eat or sleep well. In distress, the magistrate responded by sending ritual masters to express the people’s wishes to the spirits. Furthermore, he made it clear that he would be willing to endure any punishments for the sake of his subjects’ wellbeing. Sacrifices were prepared according to the imperial protocol. Altars were built during the day and ritual goods were on display in the evening.

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