Guocui Xuebao and China’S Path to Modernity, 1905–1911

Revolution as Restoration Leiden Series in Comparative Historiography

Editors Axel Schneider Susanne Weigelin-Schwiedrzik

VOLUME 6

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/lsch Revolution as Restoration

Guocui xuebao and China’s Path to Modernity, 1905–1911

By Tze-ki Hon

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2013 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hon, Tze-Ki, 1958– Revolution as restoration : Guocui xuebao and China’s path to modernity, 1905-1911 / by Hon Tze-ki. pages cm. — (Leiden series in comparative historiography ; 6) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-90-04-24780-2 (hardback : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-24877-9 (e-book) 1. Guo cui xue bao. 2. China—Intellectual life—20th century. I. Title. II. Title: Guocui xuebao and China’s path to modernity, 1905–1911.

DS761.2.H66 2013 951’.035—dc23

2012047914

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. To Wan-Chiung 婉瓊, my life’s companion

Contents

List of Figures ...... ix Acknowledgements ...... xi List of Guocui xuebao Writers ...... xiii

Introduction: The Allure of the Nation ...... 1

1. The Paradox of Global Competition ...... 17

2. New Roles of the Educated Elite ...... 35

3. The Law of Social Evolution ...... 47

4. The Public Realm ...... 69

5. Local Self-Government ...... 83

6. Memories of Resistance ...... 97

Conclusion: Lost in Transition ...... 113

References Cited ...... 121

Indexes ...... 133

List of Figures

1.1. The cover of the 1907 Zhengyi tongbao ...... 22 1.2. The advertisement page in the 1903 Zhengyi congshu ...... 24 2.1. The cover page of the first issue of the Cathay Art Book (Shenzhou guoguang ji) ...... 44 2.2. The title page (left) and the back cover page (right) of Guocui xuebao 11 (1908) ...... 45 2.3. A work of art in Guocui xuebao ...... 46 3.1. A painting of the Yellow Emperor in Guocui xuebao 3 (1905) ..... 59 3.2. A painting of the Divine Farmer in Guocui xuebao 3 (1905) ...... 63

Acknowledgements

Most of the research for this book was conducted during the 2006–2007 academic year when I was a research fellow at the Modern East Asia Research Centre (MEARC) of Leiden University in the Netherlands. I was grateful to Professor Axel Schneider (then MEARC director) for his invita- tion to spend a year in Leiden. During that year, I had the opportunity to learn from the brilliant scholars at MEARC, especially Chiara Brivio, Hosen Chan, Els van Dongen, Cur- tis A. Gayle, Chris Goto-Jones, Ya-pei Kuo, Marc Matten, Viren Murthy, Tak-wing Ngo, Kiri Paramore, Chritian Uhl, and Torsen Weber. The daily debates at MEARC over Asian modernity and global capitalism had stimu- lated me to rethink my approach to late Qing China. Chapters 3 of this book is based on my article “From a Hierarchy in Time to a Hierarchy in Space: The Meanings of Sino-Babylonianism in Early Twentieth Century China,” published in Modern China 36.2 (2010). Chapter 4 is drawn from my article, “National Essence, National Learn- ing, and Culture: Historical Writings in Guocui xuebao, Xueheng, and Guoxue jikan,” published in Historiography East and West 1.2 (2003). I thank the editors of Modern China and Historiography East and West for allowing me to use previously published materials. I would like to thank the copy-editor, Kristin Roth, for making the man- uscript stylistically pleasing.

List of Guocui xuebao Writers

Editors Deng Shi (鄧實, 1877–1951) Huang Jie (黃節, 1873–1935)

Article Writers Chen Qubing (陳去病, 1874–1933) Huang Binhong (黃賓虹, 1865–1955) Liu Shipei (劉師培, 1884–1919) Lu Shaoming (陸紹明, dates unknown) Ma Xulun (馬敍倫, 1885–1970) Zhang Taiyan (章太炎, 1869–1936)

INTRODUCTION

The Allure of the Nation

What I mean by revolution is not just a change of government, but also a restoration—restoring [the rule] of the Chinese race, restoring [the ancient system] of county and district, restoring the Chinese government. Thus I use the term revolution to refer to the acts of restoration. —Zhang Taiyan1 Since 1949, the history of modern China has been understood as a series of revolutions: the 1911 Revolution, the May Fourth New Culture Movement (1915–1925), the Nationalist Revolution of the Guomindang (1927–1949), the Communist Revolution (1949), and the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (1966–1976). Distinct in their own right, these historical events are linked together to form a teleology of revolution that promises to create a strong and powerful China. As a victor’s narrative, the teleology jus- tifies a series of drastic measures in twentieth-century China: a political revolution to transform the Chinese empire into a nation-state, a cultural revolution to replace Confucianism with Western science and democracy, and a socialist revolution that drastically restructured the country’s economy and society. What drives this teleology of revolution is the dichotomy between tradition and modernity. Understood as the totality of the Chinese imperial system, tradition must make way for modernity because it is not only a remnant of the past but also a stumbling block for modernization. Derivatives of this tradition-modernity dichotomy are the binary distinc- tions between autocracy and democracy, classical language and vernacular language, elitism and populism, empire and nation, literati and the uneducated, morality and science, patriarchy and gender equality, and so on. At its root, the teleology of revolution is a form of modernization theory that upholds the West as the model of global progress and measures the developments of non-Western countries by how closely they resemble

1 Zhang Taiyan 1906a: 13. The original is “吾所謂革命者, 非革命也, 曰光復也。光復中國之種族也; 光復中國之州郡也; 光復中國之政權也。以此光復之實而被以革命之名。” 2 introduction the Western experience. Embedded in the teleology is the concept of linear progression, which assumes that the present must supersede the past and the best is yet to come. Preoccupied by the dichotomy between tradition and modernity, historians have not been kind to a group of Chinese scholars who supported the anti-Manchu revolution by contributing articles to Guocui xuebao (國粹學報 Journal of national essence, 1905–1911). Collectively known as the “National Essence Group” (Guocui Pai 國粹派), this group of scholars includes Chen Qubing (陳去病, 1874–1933), Deng Shi (鄧實, 1877–1951), Huang Binhong (黃賓虹, 1865–1955), Huang Jie (黃節, 1873–1935), Liu Shipei (劉師培, 1884−1919), Ma Xulun (馬敍倫, 1884–1970), and Zhang Taiyan (章太炎, 1869–1936). Individually, these scholars are recognized as radical thinkers (Zhang Taiyan and Liu Shipei), accomplished historians (Chen Qubing and Huang Jie), inspiring columnists (Deng Shi and Huang Jie), skillful translators (Ma Xulun and Liu Shipei), and masterful art con- noisseurs (Huang Binhong and Deng Shi). But as a group, they are considered die-hard conservatives who opposed modernization by harboring outdated views toward China’s fate in the modern age. Much of the discussion of the conservatism of Guocui xuebao is centered on the notion of “national essence” (guocui 國粹), usually understood as a timeless spirit or quality that defines China. In their attempts to identify a national essence to highlight Chinese cultural uniqueness, the Guocui xuebao writers are accused of turning back the clock when the country was modernizing its political, social, and economic systems. In their efforts to promote “a revival of ancient learning” (guxue fuxing 古學復興), the Guocui xuebao writers are criticized for continuing the old literati culture when China needed to learn science, technology, and democracy from the West. Writing in the esoteric classical language filled with poetic evo- cations, they are faulted for limiting the exchange of ideas among the elite, without attempting to create a more equalitarian “public space” for the citizens of the new Chinese nation.2 Often depicted as narrow minded and backward looking, the Guocui xuebao writers are not even qualified to be called traditionalists who believe in modernity but choose to preserve some ancient institutions to achieve the goal of modernization. For many historians, the Guocui xuebao writers were the worst kind of conservatives

2 For the criticisms of the Guocui xuebao writers, see Zheng Shiqu 1997: qianyan 前言, 1–3. the allure of the nation 3 who attempted to preserve ancient institutions at all costs, even though they were obsolete.3 Dominating the historical field for decades, this conventional image of the Guocui xuebao writers ignores one inconvenient fact: the discrepancy between the Guocui xuebao writers as individuals and as a group. As individuals, some were not only radicals—they were fearless revolutionaries. The prime examples are Zhang Taiyan and Chen Qubing. Zhang Taiyan became a leader of Sun Yat-sen’s Revolutionary Alliance after the Su Bao Incident (1904–1906). He was the chief editor of the official publication of the Revolutionary Alliance, Min bao (民報 People’s journal), from 1906 to 1908, fiercely promoting the anti-Manchu revolution.4 Similarly, Chen Qubing was a member of the “Recovery Society” (Guangfu Hui 光復會) and the “Southern Society” (Nianshe 南社)—two major associations supporting the anti-Manchu revolution. He was a close friend of the revolutionary martyrs Qiu Jin (秋瑾, 1875–1907) and Xu Xilin (徐錫麟, 1873–1907) and risked his life in leading a public mourning of his two friends in 1907 after their unsuccessful uprising.5 In some writings, this glaring inconsistency between the conservative Guocui xuebao writers as a group and the revolutionary Guocui xuebao writers as individuals is pushed aside by a twisted argument: Guocui xuebao represents a remnant of feudalism hidden in the bourgeoisie revolutionary movement.6 What is unclear, however, is how a revolutionary writer could quickly turn into a conservative after publishing writings in Guocui xuebao. What was so magical about the journal that made it a mouthpiece of Chinese conservatism within the revolutionary camp?

Going beyond the Revolutionary Historiography

Since the 1970s, there have been four separate studies of Guocui xuebao that challenge the revolutionary historiography. The first is Laurence Schneider’s 1976 article that links Guocui xuebao to the Southern Society (1919–1923) and Critical Review (1921–1933), forming a three-decade

3 Joseph Levenson makes the distinction between traditionalists and conservatives. For the implication of this distinction on studying the early twentieth-century thought, see Schwartz 1976: 18–21. 4 For the political philosophy of Zhang Taiyan and his role in the 1911 Revolution, see Wang Fansen 1985, Wang Rongzu 2008a & 2008b, and Murthy 2011. 5 For details, see chapter 5. 6 For a discussion of this twisted argument, see Zheng Shiqu 1997: qianyan 前言, 1–3. 4 introduction

conservative movement in early twentieth-century China.7 By highlighting the connections among the three cultural enterprises, Schneider shows how the conservative movement was a response to China’s transformation from an empire to a nation-state. Rather than viewing the Chinese conservatives as adamant opponents of modernization, Schneider affirms what Benjamin Schwartz calls the “conservatism/liberalism/radicalism” triad wherein the conservatives actively engaged in a debate over modernity with the liberals and the radicals. For Schneider, the Chinese conservatives might have a different vision of modernity, but they wholeheartedly supported modernity and formulated various strategies to modernize China.8 To support his argument, Schneider discusses the importance of the concept of national essence. For him, the Guocui xuebao writers’ interest in national essence was a manifestation of “the discovery of culture” when the educated elite could control the cultural sphere after the break- down of the imperial system.9 Rather than backward looking, Schneider argues that the search for national essence was a potent weapon of the educated elite to gain independence from the state. By declaring their ownership of the cultural sphere, Schneider contends, the educated elite became “modern intelligentsia” who “assumed the task, outside of and usually in conflict with conventional institutions, of defining, protecting, and perpetuating culture.”10 Although failing to link the rise of the modern intelligentsia to the broad socioeconomic changes in the late Qing,11 Schneider succeeds in eliminating the distinction between tradition and modernity. He demonstrates that the invention of tradition is an integral part of the discourse on modernity, especially in defining the self-identity of the educated elite in a postimperial age. While Schneider emphasizes the rhetorical function of national essence, Ying-shih Yü and Lydia Liu focus on the global network of cultural exchange that introduced the concept of national essence into the

7 Laurence Schneider 1976: 57–89, especially 58–60. 8 Ibid., 57–58. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid., 58. 11 Laurence Schneider has a narrow view of national essence, taking it to mean a cultural identity based on an attachment to the Chinese tradition. Thus, he sees limits to this “preoccupation of culture” of the new intelligentsia. He writes, “National essence was seen as culture detached from the traditional organic order; and its purveyors became the intelligentsia, severed from state and society by new forms of associations, as well as by the abolition of the traditional examination system and the fall of the monarchy” (ibid., 58). the allure of the nation 5

Chinese discourse on modernity. In his 1994 essay on the changing concep- tion of national history, Ying-shih Yü compares the meanings of national essence in Meiji Japan and late Qing China while the two countries were being integrated into the global system of nation-states. Although he accepts that the Chinese borrowed the term national essence from Japan, he emphasizes its different usages in the two countries. He points out that whereas in Japan national essence (kokusui) denoted a deep-seated concern with the damage of the Japanese national spirit by Westernization, in China national essence (guocui) was to “arouse the ethnic hostility of the Han Chinese against the Manchu dynasty, and to redefine China’s identity in response to the growing impact of the West.”12 More importantly, through this comparison, Yü underscores the importance of the transnational network that moved ideas from country to country and from place to place. Similarly, in her 1995 book, Translingual Practice, Lydia Liu uses Guocui xuebao as an example to elucidate the significance of the global network of cultural encounter. Like Yü, Liu stresses the cultural nexus that brought concepts, ideas, and theories from Meiji Japan to late Qing China. For her, the prime example of the global network of cultural encounter is Sino-Babylonianism (or xilai shuo 西來説), which stated that in ancient antiquity the Chinese migrated from Mesopotamia under the leadership of the Yellow Emperor (Huang Di 黄帝).13 Sino-Babylonianism originated in Europe and was introduced first to Meiji Japan in the 1890s and then reexported to China in the early 1900s. For Liu, the fact that the Guocui xuebao writers enthusiastically embraced Sino-Babylonianism and creatively transformed it for domestic consumption evinces a “coauthor- ship” among the Orientalists in Europe, the Sinologists in Japan, and the National Essence Group in China.14 Although focusing only on the exchange of ideas, Liu shows that Guocui xuebao was part of a global network that made the world an integrated totality. Whereas Schneider, Yü, and Liu focus on one particular aspect of Guocui xuebao to challenge the revolutionary historiography, Zheng Shiqu (鄭師渠) offers, by far, the most comprehensive critique of the revolutionary historiography. In his 1997 book, Wanqing guocui pai (晚清國

12 Ying-shih Yü 1994: 160. 13 Lydia Liu 1995: 243. For an account of the migration of Sino-Babylonianism from Europe to East Asia and back to Europe, see Hon 2010. 14 Lydia Liu 1995: 243. 6 introduction

粹派 The National Essence Group of the late Qing), Zheng argues that the Guocui xuebao writers were as revolutionary as the Revolutionary Alliance of Sun Yat-sen. Zheng’s argument is based on two observations. The first is that due to their status as peripheral literati who had yet to pass the civil service examinations, the Guocui xuebao writers had much to gain by supporting Sun Yat-sen’s “bourgeoisie democratic revolution” to overturn the imperial system.15 The second is that by “national essence,” the Guocui xuebao writers did not mean a timeless spirit or quality, but a particular kind of Chinese cultural heritage from the Eastern Zhou period (771–221 BCE) that would bring China into the global system of nation- states. Thus, when the Guocui xuebao writers discussed the revival of the Chinese national essence, Zheng contends, they did not plan to turn the clock back to a bygone age, but to move China forward by reviving a select Chinese cultural heritage.16 Zheng’s second point is extremely important in the studies of Guocui xuebao. From the seminal studies of Benjamin Schwartz and Laurence Schneider in the 1970s to the cross-cultural analyses of Ying-shih Yü and Lydia Liu in the mid 1990s, national essence is invariably taken to mean a timeless spirit or quality. Understood as such, national essence inexo- rably involves a simplification, reducing thousands of years of Chinese history into one simple quality. What Zheng has found turns this discussion of Chinese conservatism on its head. As Zheng points out, the Guocui xuebao writers used the term national essence mainly as a heu- ristic symbol to support Chinese modernization. Rather than looking backward to preserve a cultural identity, the Guocui xuebao writers were actually forward looking in defining a Chinese path to modernity based on a select memory of the past. Furthermore, Zheng links the concept of national essence to the momentous changes of late Qing China. Like Laurence Schneider, he sees the Guocui xuebao writers as the new Chinese intelligentsia in the wake of the crumbling of the imperial system. But he goes beyond Laurence Schneider by not limiting his analysis to the “discovery of culture.” Rather, he focuses on the broad social and

15 Zheng Shiqu describes the Guocui xuebao writers as simultaneously shouldering two responsibilities. One was launching a bourgeoisie democratic revolution; the other was preserving the national learning. As such, Zheng argues that the Guocui xuebao writers expanded the bourgeoisie democratic revolution into the cultural realm. See Zheng Shiqu 1997: 1–2. 16 Ibid., 114–120. the allure of the nation 7 political transformations such as the abolition of the examination system, the social organizations of peripheral literati, and the spread of the print market.17 Ironically, while Zheng Shiqu disproves the revolutionary historiography by turning the discussion of Chinese conservatism on its head, he reaffirms the revolutionary historiography by identifying Guocui xuebao as part of Sun Yat-sen’s “bourgeoisie democratic revolution.” In the lexi- con of Chinese Marxism, bourgeoisie democratic revolution (zichan jieji minzhu geming 資產階級民主革命) denotes the first stage in the teleology of revolution that does not reach its logical end until the triumph of the Chinese Communist Party and its socialist radicalism. The term also carries an overt political judgment that blames the “Chinese bourgeoisie” for failing to serve the interest of the proletariat and the peasants after toppling the Qing dynasty. In the context of the cultural debate in late 1990s China, Zheng’s reaf- firmation of the revolutionary historiography is revealing when Li Zehou (李澤厚) and Liu Zaifu (劉再復) called on Chinese historians to “bid farewell to revolution” (gaobie geming 告別革命).18 As Rebecca Karl points out, this “farewell to revolution” is not only a critique of a historical approach, but also “[a] condemnation of twentieth-century Chinese intellectuals and political history for its supposed fetishizing of revolutionary solutions to crisis.”19 But were the Guocui xuebao writers only interested in finding “revolutionary solutions to crisis”? Were they truly the supporters of Sun Yat-sen’s bourgeoisie democratic revolution when they also actively participated in the late Qing reforms? Could there be a path to Chinese modernity that was both radical in terms of overturning the status quo and retrospective with respect to creating a memory of the past for modernization? Above all, how do we assess the political and social roles of peripheral literati who were transforming themselves into intellectuals by working in the print market, the national school system, and the global exchange of goods and services? These are questions that cannot be answered if we still look at the Guocui xuebao writers from the teleology of revolution.

17 Ibid., 1–27, 62–110. 18 Li Zehou and Liu Zaifu 1995. 19 Rebecca Karl 2009: vii. 8 introduction

The Twin Logics of Nationalism and Capitalism

Presenting a different picture of early twentieth-century China, this book examines Guocui xuebao as a text that elucidates the momentous political and social changes. In reading Guocui xuebao as a text, I do not see it as a collection of documents for studying a thinker (e.g., Zhang Taiyan), a concept (e.g., national essence), or an intellectual movement (e.g., cultural conservatism). Rather, I view Guocui xuebao as a site or a hub that reveals the multiple forces—both locally and globally—that shaped early twentieth-century China.20 Certainly, using one journal to elucidate broad- sweeping political and social changes is dangerously oversimplifying. Nevertheless, given the prominent role that Guocui xuebao played in the Chinese print market, the late Qing reforms, and the anti-Manchu revolution, there is much to be said about early twentieth-century China based on the views and opinions expressed in Guocui xuebao. First and foremost, in reading Guocui xuebao as a text, I see its writers as intellectuals who attempted to control the cultural field.21 By controlling a public domain autonomous from the state, the Chinese intellectuals wanted to cope with the double burden of losing the prestige of scholar- officials after the abolition of the civil service examinations in 1905, and of subjecting to the constant fluctuation of supply and demand in the print market.22 Free but vulnerable, the Chinese intellectuals were no longer the head of the “four groups of people” (simin 四民) of the imperial age: scholars, peasants, artisans, and merchants. Instead, like the other social groups, they had to compete to win jobs in the market.23 More

20 My approach to studying Guocui xuebao is influenced by Rudolf Wagner’s and Barbara Mittler’s studies of late Qing newspapers. See Wagner 2007 and Mittler 2004. As Mittler points out, her study of Shenbao (申報) was not about the newspaper per se, but about the newspaper as “a structured body of text.” “In emphasizing the text rather than the context of newspaper writing in China,” she writes, “I asked how the Chinese press functioned and thus how and why it could be powerful” (Mittler 2004: 413–414). 21 For a discussion of this momentous change of the intellectuals, see Xu Jilin 2005: 1–4. As Tani Barlow (1991) points out, the term intellectuals (zhishi fenzi 知識分子) was used as a class label in political campaigns during the Mao era. Following Yu Yingshi (2007: 5–8), I use this term as a sociological category to refer to the educated elite (zhishi ren 知識人or zhishi jieceng 知識階層) in the cultural arena. Particularly it denotes the cultural producers in the art, educational, media, printing, and scientific fields. 22 Xu Jilin 2008. 23 Yu Yingshi called this change the “marginalization” (bianyuan hua 邊緣化) of the educated elite. See Yu Yingshi 1992: 33–50. For both the positive and negative implications of the marginalization of the educated elite, see Luo Zhitian 2001: 1–17; Wang Fansen 2001: 275–304. the allure of the nation 9 importantly, in order to make their products available to consumers, they had to work with publishers, editors, typesetters, bookstore owners, and transport laborers who might not share their cultural taste or educational background. Trying to make a living in a complex and competitive environment, Chinese intellectuals had to reinvent themselves as cultural producers in the print industry, educators in the national school system, and professional writers in the book market.24 And it is this transformation of the Chinese educated elite from literati to intellectuals that makes Guocui xuebao a valuable text. Started by Deng Shi and Huang Jie, Guocui xuebao was published continuously for seven years in Shanghai based on subscriptions, donations, and the proceeds from selling individual copies through a nationwide network of bookstores. Like its sister publication, Zhengyi tongbao (政藝通報 Journal of political thought and technological skills, 1901–1908), Guocui xuebao was aimed at readers who were willing to pay for information about the political, social, and technological modernization of China. In short, the publication of Guocui xuebao was part of the print capitalism that flourished in China since the introduction of the Western technology of mechanized printing in the first half of the nineteenth century.25 Similar to newspapers, journals, magazines, and lowbrow novels that flooded the late Qing print market, Guocui xuebao was a vehicle of social mobility for young and robust scholars who were at best peripheral literati due to their failure in passing the civil service examinations. Frustrated by the old “ladder of success” of the examination system, the Guocui xuebao writers (most of them in their early twenties and thirties) actively created a new “ladder of success” for themselves by marketing cultural products in the blooming print industry. Rather than serving in the imperial bureaucracy or leading local communities—the two traditional career paths of the literati of the imperial age—the Guocui xuebao writers were among tens of thousands of new educated elites who earned their living by working in a competitive and globally connected environment. Just as Guocui xuebao was part of print capitalism, so too it was part of Chinese nationalism. When Guocui xuebao was launched in 1905, China had been for decades trying to adopt “the myth of the nation- state.” The nation-state is a myth, according to Martin Lewis and Kären Wigen, because it assumes that “cultural identities (nations) coincide with

24 Culp 2008. 25 Reed 2004; Wagner 2007. 10 introduction

political sovereign entities (states) to create a series of internally unified and essentially equal units.”26 Given China’s huge size and its large number of ethnic and linguistic groups, the coupling of a cultural/ethnic identity and the political system of a sovereign state was almost impossible to achieve. And even in Europe, the home of the “myth of the nation- state,” it was hardly a reality when ethnic and language differences were prominent.27 Nevertheless, despite the difficulty of creating a sovereign state based on a single cultural/ethnic identity, forming a nation-state was universally accepted in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as a measurement of civilization. It was a yardstick by which to rank countries around the world according to their military prowess, technological advancement, material affluence, and above all, social cohesion. Power and wealth, in short, were the two criteria of modernity that all countries must subscribe to in order to be accepted into the global family of nations. And it was believed that power and wealth were best achieved by having a sovereign state to rule a homogeneous people.28 In early twentieth-century China, the discussion about forming a nation-state became increasingly intense when the late Qing government launched the “New Policies” (xinzheng 新政, 1901–1911). Consequently, the discourse of the nation-state emerged along with the building of a national school system, the drafting of a constitution, the opening of provincial assemblies, the rise of urban culture, and the spread of a global network of commerce and communication. These simultaneous changes helped to create a public space for the learned community to exchange views, participate in debates, and shape public opinion. They helped to develop what Joan Judge calls a “middle realm” that linked the rulers and the ruled, the educated and the uneducated, the powerful and the powerless.29 In many respects, these social and cultural factors made the Chinese discourse of the nation-state a lot more complex than adopting Western concepts of the nation, linear progression, and citizenry. On the one hand, the discourse reflects the pluralism and diversity of the late

26 Lewis and Wigen 1997: 8. 27 The beginning of the nation-state system is commonly dated to the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, which not only ended the Thirty Years’ War in Europe (1618–1648) but also established a system of reciprocal recognition among states. For an account of the development of the nation-state system, see Arrighi 1994 and Tilly 1990. For the contradictions of the nation-state system, see Wallerstein 1974–1991; 2004: 42–59. 28 For a discussion of how the twin logics of coercion and capital accumulation drive the nation-state system, see Arrighi 1994: 33–43; Tilly 1990: 1–37. 29 Judge 1996: 17–31. the allure of the nation 11

Qing period, highlighting a fluid environment in which the educated elite found ample room to voice their opinions and views. On the other hand, the discourse shows the creative tension of the dual goals of the New Policies: state making (extending the power of the state to local areas) and nation building (creating a self-conscious and self-motivated people). As Philip Kuhn points out, the creative tension between state making and nation building was clearly shown in the late Qing model of “control- autonomy interaction.”30 A major goal of this control-autonomy interaction was to effectively activate local political energy and channel it into the political structure of a centralizing state. To achieve this goal, there were two expected outcomes of this mobilization. First was that members of the local elite were encouraged to actively manage local affairs and to take over much of the local administration at their own expenses. The second outcome was that local activism would be linked to national programs such that the central government would have direct control over local affairs without incurring extra costs.31 In short, the goal of control- autonomy interaction was to create a centralized state without putting extra financial burden on the Qing government. The crux of the matter was whether local activism would serve national mobilization. The danger of the control-autonomy interaction was that there was no guarantee that once “local political energy” (i.e., the nation) was activated, it could be safely and smoothly channeled into the political structure of a centralizing state. For peripheral literati and the new intellectuals, the New Policies provided a rare opportunity to create a decentralized political system and an equalitarian society. As members of the educated elite, both groups saw themselves as leaders of social and political changes precisely because they were not part of the status quo. Unlike the officials in the government, they were on the edges of the existing political order and, therefore, they would bring new “local political energy” into the government. Unlike the established scholars in the academy, they were yet to be considered members of the genteel society, and thereby they would be instrumental in expanding the “middle realm” to link the rulers and the ruled. Unlike the leaders of local communities, they were respectable but not fully

30 See Kuhn 1975: 257–266. 31 Ibid. 12 introduction

recognized as key players in local affairs; therefore, they would create new mechanisms to connect the national government with local associations. For these reasons, the notion of the nation (guojia 國家) was extremely important to the self-identity of these junior members of the educated elite. On the one hand, it denoted the collective interest of the entire Chinese people, and thereby the foundation of the modern nation-state. On the other hand, it pointed to an autonomous domain that was outside of the jurisdiction of the state.32 This paradox of simultaneously creating both a unified whole (the state) and an autonomous realm (the nation) was central to the mission of the young Chinese educated elite. As the self-appointed representatives of the people, they used what Barbara Mittler calls “the power of the press” to claim control of the cultural field.33 As the spokesmen of the “middle realm,” they challenged the autocracy of the Manchu government, the authoritarianism of the imperial system, and the suppression of dissents in the Qing cultural policies. As the leaders of the new Chinese nation, they promoted a plan that gave all walks of life freedom and equal rights.

Revolution as Restoration

In order to fully examine Guocui xuebao as a text of China’s political and social changes, I have divided this book into six chapters. In chapter 1, I focus on the global network of commerce and communication that allowed independent publications (e.g., Guocui xuebao) to appear in the Chinese print market. This socioeconomic context demonstrates that Guocui xuebao was first and foremost a consumer item that had to compete in the reader market. By linking Guocui xuebao to print capitalism and technology transfer, chapter 1 shows that the journal was part of the urban, capitalistic, and global setting of coastal China. As such, it

32 In late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japan, there were similar intellectual movements in which the “nation” (kokumin or minzoku) was used to expand the cultural and social realms in order to check the power of the state (kokka). For an account of the difference between nationalism and statism, see Kevin Doak 2007: 1–35. 33 For Barbara Mittler, the “power of the press” in late Qing China was more an image than a tangible force, and yet its symbolic presence was felt everywhere. To explain this symbolic power of the press, Mittler writes, “Different players in the Chinese public sphere—the court, foreigners, and the Chinese public—believed in it, if for different reasons and out of different feelings for fear, superiority, or despair. The medium itself stood for certain intangible powers, even if its message was not necessarily one of public, nationalistic, or revolutionary force” (2004: 39). the allure of the nation 13 is no surprise that many journal writers were deeply interested in the question of modernity, particularly the prospects and perils in forming a nation-state. Building on the socioeconomic background in chapter 1, chapter 2 examines the immediate context in which Guocui xuebao was founded. Similar to many journals and newspapers of the time, Guocui xuebao was founded when the Qing government decided to abolish the civil service examinations. The journal was intended for the tens of thousands of young scholars who suddenly lost their “ladder of success” to officialdom. Targeting the educated elite, particularly those who were yet to pass the civil service examinations, Guocui xuebao offered concrete suggestions for converting their classical learning into a “national learning” (guoxue 國學). To explain the role that Guocui xuebao played in this transformation from literati to intellectuals, I discuss the dichotomy of “national learning” and “imperial learning” ( junxue 君學) that appeared frequently in the journal. In tracing how these two opposite terms were used in the journal, I describe the ways by which the journal writers inserted themselves in the discourse of the nation-state. Chapter 3 focuses on the global vision of the Guocui xuebao writers. Seemingly contradictory, the Guocui xuebao writers embraced both a rac- ist definition of the nation based on the bloodline of the Yellow Emperor 黃帝 and a universal definition of humankind in which all ancient civilizations originated from Mesopotamia. The chapter analyzes the sociopolitical implications of the theory of the western origin of Chinese civilization. Particularly, I focus on “Sino-Babylonianism” (xilai shuo 西來説) as a mixture of global and local dialogues on social evolution, migration, and technology transfer. I argue that despite the lack of factual support, Sino-Babylonianism was essential to what the Guocui xuebao writers called a Chinese path to modernity. For them, whereas the migration of the Chinese race from Mesopotamia proved that the Chinese had had an advanced civilization in ancient times on par with Europe, the genealogy of the Yellow Emperor showed that ancient Chinese civilization had to be sustained and developed by the Han Chinese alone. Like the Shibao (時報) writers that Joan Judge has studied, the Guocui xuebao writers were creating a “middle realm” between the rulers and the ruled, the state and the society.34 As such, Guocui xuebao writers assumed two separate but interconnected roles. To the rulers and the powerful,

34 For the concept of the “middle realm,” see Judge 1996: 17–31. 14 introduction they were spokesmen of the nation, representing the views of the people. To the masses, they were tutors to the people, giving training to citizens. The creative tension in this double role of the educated elite was presented in Guocui xuebao through the discussions of the Zhou dynasty (1100–221 BCE) and local self-government. In chapter 4, I explain why the Guocui xuebao writers regarded the Zhou dynasty as the “Golden Age.” Known in history as a time when leaders of feudal states were politically powerful and men of letters were the custodians of truth, the Zhou dynasty was seen by the Guocui xuebao writers as a historical precedent in which local autonomy and independent thinking were valued and protected amidst efforts to unify China. To make their point clear, the Guocui xuebao writers focused on the Hundred Schools of the Eastern Zhou period (770–256 BCE), or the xianqin zhuzi (先秦諸子 thinkers of the pre-Qin period). For them, the goal of studying the Hundred Schools was not to question the authority of Confucianism. Rather, the study of the Hundred Schools was to prove that there had been a wide variety of intellectual resources in ancient China and that the educated elite used to be dominant players in political and social discourses. In chapter 5, I examine the Guocui xuebao writers’ views on expanding state power by delegating much of its responsibilities to local leaders. I argue that by promoting “local self-government” (difang zizhi 地方自治), the Qing government signaled a fundamental shift in the regime of power. Rather than power being centralized in the imperial court in Beijing, it was now delegated and dispersed across the country. This shift in the regime of power also signified a change in priorities. Instead of privileging the leadership and coordination in the central government in Beijing, attention was now turned to the flexibility, ingenuity, and spontaneity of local leaders in managing local affairs. Certainly, local leaders were required to follow the orders of the central government; nevertheless, they enjoyed a greater degree of autonomy that was unprecedented since the beginning of the Qing dynasty. For local leaders, local self-government was a rare opportunity to expand their influence in their districts. In chapter 6, I compare the historical memories of the Ming-Qing transition in Guocui xuebao and Minbao (民報; the official publication of the Revolutionary Allies). The comparison is partly to highlight the intimate link between the Guocui xuebao writers and the revolutionaries. It is also to emphasize the uniqueness of the Guocui xuebao writers in their revolutionary practice of “mobilizing by writing” (wenxue guchui 文學鼓吹). Due to their readers, the Guocui xuebao writers were more subtle in using the allure of the nation 15 history to promote the anti-Manchu revolution. They knew that they were addressing an educated elite, many of whom were still loyal to the Qing government. And yet, the Guocui xuebao writers made great efforts to present the Ming-Qing transition (1619–1683) as a living event. For them, the Ming-Qing transition started a long racial war between Han Chinese and Manchus that continued on until their time. First fought in the battlefields, the racial war was later turned into a long moral struggle that lasted for three hundred years. For the Guocui xuebao writers, the memory of the Ming-Qing transition provided a framework to remember the past as a continuous struggle against alien rulers. One of the puzzles about the Guocui writers is their self-imposed silence after the 1911 Revolution. To account for their silence after the revolution, in the conclusion I examine the political situation immediately following the 1911 Revolution. I stress the incongruence between what the Guocui writers anticipated and what actually took place after the revolution. I argue that the swift fall of the Qing government stunned the Guocui writers, who saw the New Policies as the foundation for the modern Chinese nation-state. Believing that a decentralized political system would be the best model for promoting plurality and diversity, the Guocui writers were caught off guard by the sudden collapse of the Qing government. The vacuum of power after the revolution was quickly filled by powerful warlords, local leaders, and wealthy businessmen—political actors who were not supposed to be dominant in the new Chinese nation-state. As a whole, this book offers a different perspective on the Chinese quest for modernity. It shows that the Chinese quest for modernity was a manifestation of the plurality and diversity of the late Qing period. As such, from the start, the Chinese quest for modernity was never completely orchestrated by the central government, nor was it static and monolithic as the teleology of revolution describes. Instead, it was a dynamic field of action in which multiple players acted and interacted to define the boundaries and meanings of “China,” “the Chinese,” “the Chinese nation,” and “the Chinese state.” This plurality in the early stage of Chinese modernity remains prominent today as China again includes many players and forces, locally and globally, to create a Chinese modernity for the twentieth-first century.35

35 For a discussion of the polyphony of the current Chinese debate on modernity, see Ban Wang 2004; Wang Hui 2003, 2009.

CHAPTER one

The Paradox of Global Competition

Like many of the journals and newspapers published in China during the early 1900s, Guocui xuebao was produced in a treaty port, which, in turn, was linked to the global system of trade and transport. When the first issue of Guocui xuebao was published in 1905, sixty years had passed since China opened its ports and cities to Westerners. Now ocean-going ships traveled directly from London to Shanghai, ending the centuries- long separation of three discrete regions—the Atlantic, the Indian Ocean, and the South China Sea. Inside China, steamships had replaced sailing junks to carry passengers and goods from one end of the Yangzi River to the other, greatly reducing travel time from weeks to days, and from days to hours.1 Although China was still behind other countries in building railroads, thousands of miles of rail track had been laid by the end of the nineteenth century crisscrossing north, central, and south China.2 The combined speed of land, river, and sea transportation gave rise to what David Harvey calls the “time-space compression” in which distance was shortened and travelers and goods could reach their destinations faster.3 In 1896, in his usual crisp and vivid language, the veteran newspaper columnist Liang Qichao (梁啟超, 1873–1929) described the impact of this time-space compression. “In present days,” he wrote, “we have nations coexisting like next-door neighbors and continents linked together like friends in the same room.” 4 In the early 1900s, in addition to Liang’s strik- ing metaphors of “next-door neighbors” (bilin 比鄰) and “sharing the same room” (tongshi 同室), the sense of proximity to lands far away was also conveyed in a variety of ways such as “the ten thousand countries on the globe” (diqiu wanguo 地球萬國), “the world” (shijie 世界), and “the stage of the five continents” (wuzhou zhi wutai 五洲之舞臺).5 The metaphor

1 For the changes in China’s domestic and international shipping industry after 1842, see Chen Zhengshu 2002: 272–304. 2 For railroad construction in late nineteenth-century China, see ibid.: 304–315. 3 For the concept of “time-space compression” (or “spacetime”), see Harvey 2009: 133– 165. 4 Liang Qichao 1986. The original line is: “今夫萬國並立，猶比鄰也。齊州以内，猶同室也。” 5 For an example of how these three terms were used, see Deng Shi 1902a. 18 chapter one of the stage (wutai 舞臺) was particularly poignant in highlighting the proximity of far-flung lands when they were connected through intricate networks of cables, canals, railways, roads, shipping lines, telegraphs, and waterways. It evoked an image of people from different places sharing the same spot and the same time—being on stage together.6 In China in the early 1900s, this sense of proximity and simultaneity was greatly enhanced by mechanized print technology that allowed the presses to produce large numbers of books, leaflets, magazines, newspapers, and pamphlets quickly. Chinese “print capitalism,” as Christopher Reed has suggested, triggered a rapid expansion of the print market that combined traditional print culture with the efficiency of modern machines.7 With the convenience of modern transportation and communication, many of these printed products were distributed rapidly and widely from the coast (where most of the presses were located) to various parts of the country. For the majority of Chinese who could not afford to travel, their sense of proximity and simultaneity developed mainly from reading journals and newspapers. In news reports, events that happened hundreds of miles away were rendered as if they happened locally. Ma Xulun (馬敍倫, 1885–1970), a regular writer for Guocui xuebao, told us that in 1900, residents in Hangzhou (杭州) learned about the foreign occupation of Beijing from three Shanghai newspapers: Shenbao (申報), Xinwen bao (新聞報), and Zhongwai ribao (中外日報). The newspaper reports brought home an event that happened hundreds of miles away.8 More importantly, in reading the same stories in the same newspapers, readers in different parts of China could participate in what Benedict Anderson calls “homogeneous empty time.”9 As a veteran newspaper columnist, Liang Qichao once described homogeneous empty time as “connectivity” (tong 通). Drawing on Chinese traditional medicine, he compared homogeneous empty time to the invisible nervous system in a human body that connects and energizes limbs, organs, and the brain. When “connected” by newspapers, Liang told us, one could stay home and reach the world.10

6 For the implications of the metaphor of the stage in China at the turn of the twentieth century, see Rebecca Karl 2002: 1–52. 7 Reed 2004: 1–9. 8 Ma Xulun 1947: 11. 9 For the concept of homogeneous empty time, see Anderson 1991: 22–36. 10 Liang Qichao, “Lun baoguan youyi yu guoshi” in Liang Qichao 1989, wenji 1: 101. the paradox of global competition 19

Print Capitalism and Cultural Entrepreneurship

In many respects, Guocui xuebao was a product of the age of global trade and transport. The journal was published by the Association for the Preservation of National Learning (Guoxue Baocunhui 國學保存會) located on Fourth Avenue (Simalu 四馬路) in the Anglo-American concessions in Shanghai. By the end of the nineteenth century, Shanghai had become the hub of domestic and foreign trade. It was the terminus of the trade and transport along the Yangzi River as well as the center of international commerce and communication between China and the world. Despite perpetual conflicts among residents of different races, the foreign concessions in Shanghai provided a lively environment where advanced foreign technology was introduced, corporate finance was read- ily available, and skilled workers were abundant.11 With these advantages, Shanghai quickly became the capital of the burgeoning Chinese print capitalism. By Xiong Yuezhi’s (熊月之) counting, there were 514 newspapers published in Shanghai from 1850 to 1911, almost one-third of the total number of newspapers published in the entire country.12 Among the newspapers published in Shanghai was the foreign-owned Wanguo gongbao (萬國公報 Globe magazine), which enjoyed, at its height in 1898, a circulation of 38,400 copies.13 As cultural producers based in Shanghai, the Guocui xuebao writers were keenly aware of the benefits and limits of print capitalism. Although they did not use the term capitalism in their writings, they knew they were dealing with a system that was designed for production, circulation, appropriation, and dispossession. They also understood that the capitalist system promoted cutthroat competition around the world in order to maximize profit and eliminate ineffective producers. More importantly, they realized that the capitalist system was full of contradictions and that the best way to understand it was to come to grips with its many para- doxes. Together, these insights allowed the Guocui xuebao writers to see both the strengths and weaknesses of China as a player in global competition. The insights also gave them reasons to believe that although China was slow in catching up with the West in the early twentieth century, it

11 For a discussion of the cultural changes in Shanghai and their impact on the lower Yangzi region, see Xiong Yuezhi 2002. 12 Ibid., 683. 13 Ibid., 685–686. 20 chapter one could someday “surpass Europe and America” (ling’ou jiamei 凌歐駕美) after it mastered modern technological and production skills.14 In this chapter, I will discuss the social and intellectual backgrounds that shaped the Guocui xuebao writers’ view toward global competition. I will focus on the years from 1901 to 1904 when the late Qing government began to implement the “New Policies” after the disastrous occupation of Beijing by eight foreign nations in 1900. As we will see, the New Policies generated both hopes and fears about China’s future in global competition. On the one hand, the New Policies initiated changes in the political and social structures that threatened the status of the educated elite. On the other hand, the New Policies created opportunities for the educated elite to gain influence in government and society. Aiming to reform China on a grand scale, the New Policies ended up generating more questions than answers. When founded in 1905, the goal of Guocui xuebao was to address some of the questions that the New Policies created. In particular, the journal focused on two pressing issues of the time: What course of action should be taken to ensure China’s success in global competition, and what role should the educated elite play in leading China’s transformation? Ultimately the two questions stemmed from an understanding of global competition that increasingly became part of Chinese life.

The Double Meaning of “Opening to the Ocean”

Despite the convenience of travel and the benefit of reaching the world from one’s home, many Chinese had mixed feelings about the global system of trade and transport. After all, the system was imposed upon them by foreigners who used superior military power to force them to accept the terms and conditions of the system. Although often presented as being fair and open, the system was designed to advance the interest of Western powers, especially Britain. Worse still, in joining the system, the Chinese found out that they needed to change many of their traditional practices to fit global requirements. To express these mixed feelings about joining the global system, the term opening to the ocean (hai tong 海通) carried a double meaning. When used in a certain context, opening to the ocean could mean liter- ally the opening of ports and cities along the coast. It described China’s

14 The phrase “surpass Europe and America” (ling’ou jiamei) appeared in Deng Shi 1903. the paradox of global competition 21 integration into the global system of trade and transport after the First Opium War in 1842. It also underscored the fact that the time when China had been left alone in East Asia was long gone.15 But when used in other context, opening to the ocean could mean the contemptuous pains and sufferings that the country had endured since the First Opium War. The term referred to a series of defeats and humiliation that humbled the country. It registered the fact that Westerners had succeeded in expanding their system of trade and transport deep into the Chinese heartland, drastically altering the everyday life of many Chinese.16 These two sides of opening to the ocean were particularly clear to people who lived in Shanghai. On the one hand, the foreign concessions in the treaty ports provided a dynamic environment where advanced technology was introduced and international finance was available. This dynamic environment spurred economic production and private entrepreneurship that made Shanghai the leading metropolis in China. On the other hand, under what Xiong Yuezhi calls “one city, three governments” (the Chinese, the French, and the Anglo-American), foreigners and Chinese lived in the same city but were segregated in different neighborhoods and spheres of activity.17 When conflicts arose, foreigners always gained the upper hand by either exercising the rights of extraterritoriality through foreign diplo- mats in the city or appealing to imperial officials in Beijing.18 Nevertheless, in the print industry, the two sides of opening to the ocean could be a lucrative market gambit. In 1901, Deng Shi (鄧實, 1877–1951), the future chief editor of Guocui xuebao, founded Zhengyi tongbao (政藝通報 Journal of political thought and technological skills). The bimonthly journal was a hybrid publication that combined traditional imperial bul- letins (dibao 邸報), news reports, political analyses, and technological newsletters. Aimed at a wide variety of readers to maximize profit, the journal provided an array of information about politics, the economy, foreign policy, and society and technology, but it lacked a clear focus and a coherent perspective. What made the journal a sensation in its first few years of publication was Deng Shi’s market-savvy move to highlight the paradox of opening to the ocean.

15 For the literal meaning of hai tong, see Deng Shi 1902b. 16 For the contemptuous meaning of hai tong, see Deng Shi 1902c. 17 Xiong Yuezhi 2008: 334–347. 18 For some of the conflicts between local and foreign residents in Shanghai, see ibid.: 307–397. 22 chapter one

Figure 1.1. The cover of the 1907 Zhengyi tongbao. On the right-hand side of the cover, the editors announced that the journal was going to be printed with new printing technology. the paradox of global competition 23

In two 1901 articles that explained the purpose of publishing Zhengyi tongbao, Deng Shi skillfully discussed China’s perils and prospects in global competition. In one article, he focused on the sorrow of opening to the ocean by reminding readers of China’s defeats and humiliation since 1842. To make his point, he described the Chinese loss of territories and prestige as “unprecedented in Chinese history” (gu wei you ye 古未有也) and called on his readers to contribute to rebuilding the country by learning more about political philosophy (zheng 政) and technological expertise ( yi 藝) from reading the journal.19 By contrast, in the second article, Deng emphasized the benefits of opening to the ocean. Using British and Japanese newspapers as examples, he gave an upbeat picture of a globally connected world based on print technology, mass media, and journalism. In particular, he promoted journalism as a rewarding career for gifted writers who wanted to serve as the mediator between the government and the people. Calling journalism “a study of interconnections” (er tong zhi xue 二通之學), he highlighted journalists’ contribution of linking the ruler and the ruled vertically and the different groups of people in society horizontally. Although Deng did not explicitly link journalism to the spread of print capitalism, he was confident that when there were more newspapers in China, the “people’s intelligence” (minzhi 民智) would be improved.20 This theme of China both being humbled and benefiting by opening to the ocean made Zhengyi tongbao an exciting journal. The theme connected the manifold government documents, news reports, and political analyses into a riveting drama in which the Chinese were struggling to make sense of a perplexing situation. Like all drama, the excitement in reading about the Chinese saga came from having no immediate solution. Readers must read on to discover the next episode, which promised but never delivered a closure. Showing his gift as a cultural entrepreneur, in 1903 Deng Shi offered discount coupons to readers who would buy the combined set of the first twenty-four issues of the journal. Now in its third printing after thousands of copies had been sold, the journal’s combined set was described by Deng Shi as “the most valuable and practical book in recent years” because of its faithful reports of events in the country since “the national disaster of 1900” (gengzi guonan 庚子國難).21 By referring to

19 Deng Shi 1902b. 20 Deng Shi 1902d. Liang Qichao made a similar argument; see Liang Qichao 1896. 21 “Renyin zhengyi congshu guanggao 壬寅政藝叢書廣告” (advertisement for 1902 Zhengyi congshu), Zhengyi congshu 1902, “guanggao 廣告”: 1a. 24 chapter one

Figure 1.2. The advertisement page in the 1903 Zhengyi congshu. At the bottom left corner was the discount coupon for the subscription to the 1904 Zhengyi tongbao. the paradox of global competition 25 the combined set as “a book” (shu 書), Deng highlighted the cohesion of what appeared to be a hodgepodge of official documents, news columns, and political commentaries. And by reminding readers of the recent occupation of Beijing by foreign powers, Deng underscored the urgency and utility of reading the journal. For readers who were eager to learn more about China’s fate, Deng Shi suggested they buy the combined set that showed China’s predicament in the global age. If they had a bit more money in their pockets, he urged them to immediately subscribe to the 1904 Zhengyi tongbao at a discount price with another coupon.22 Indeed, as a skillful cultural entrepreneur, Deng knew how to sell his products.

Two Views of Natural Selection

A successful marketing gambit notwithstanding, the two sides of opening to the ocean pointed to a deeper issue: the conflict between “scientistic” and “humanistic” views of the law of natural selection. By the early 1900s, the Chinese educated elite had learned about the universal law of evolution from Yan Fu’s (嚴復, 1853–1921) translation of T. H. Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics. Entitled Tianyan lun (天演論 On natural evolution, 1898), Yan Fu’s translation made popular two major concepts of social evolution: natural selection based on competition (wujing tianze 物競天擇) and the survival of the fittest (shizhe shencun 適者生存).23 The two concepts were popular because they appeared to give an explanation for China’s defeats and humiliation when it was perceived to be behind in political, social, and technological developments. More importantly, the two concepts provided justification for launching aggressive reforms to save China from being eliminated in natural selection. For many Chinese, particularly the educated elite, the recent occupation of Beijing by eight foreign powers renewed their fear of China being eliminated from the globe.24 While the law of evolution helped to explain China’s defeats and humiliation, it did not offer a clear solution to China’s predicament. Looking at the opening to the ocean from the law of natural selection, China’s defeats were inevitable and necessary to weed out the weak and the unfit.

22 “Jiachen zhengyi tongbao zhejia juan 甲辰政藝通報折價卷” (discount coupon for 1904 Zhengyi tongbao), Zhengyi congshu 1903, “guanggao 廣告”: 1b. 23 On the impact of Tianyan lun on Chinese intellectuals in cities such as Shanghai, see Xiong Yuezhi 1994: 681–686. On the intellectual background of Yan Fu’s translation, see Max Ko-Wu Huang 2008: 65–114. 24 Deng Shi frequently used the 1900 occupation of Beijing as an example of China’s danger of being eliminated in global competition. See, for instance, Deng Shi 1903. 26 chapter one

From the standpoint of humankind, the opening to the ocean benefited all peoples around the globe (including the Chinese) by pushing them to reach a higher stage of development through fierce competition. For those who adopted this perspective, they focused on the progress in technological transfer and economic growth in China after the First Opium War. Some went a step further by explaining the schema of social evolution and identified the particular stage that China had reached. Invariably they put China one or two stages behind Europe and the United States, showing that the Chinese must endure what was unendurable to learn from their defeats in global competition. As one author noted in Zhengyi tongbao, the law of evolution was like “a circle without beginning and end” (ruhuan wuduan 如環無端) that was open and fair to everyone. Being behind in evolution, the author argued, the Chinese should blame themselves for defeats and humiliation.25 However, when viewing the opening to the ocean from the perspective of the victims or the losers, the event looked tragic and distasteful. For those who adopted this perspective, they focused on the savage killings in battles, the creation of treaty ports, the unfair treatment of local residents in foreign concessions, and the loss of China’s prestige among its neighboring states. They questioned why the law of natural selection was so brutal and merciless resulting in the killing of many innocent people and the partitions of foreign lands. They queried the intent of global competition when it was conducted so ferociously that winners showed no mercy on the losers even though they were fellow human beings. They asked what the losers could or should do to avoid being expunged from the earth. In Zhengyi tongbao, Deng Shi was a vocal supporter of the humanistic view of natural selection. In a 1902 article to celebrate the dawn of the new century, he began with what seemed to be an affirmation of the scientistic view of perpetual progress: “With the Eastern and Western hemispheres connected by transportation networks and the new and old cultures united in marriage, we will enjoy the fortunes of the golden world and the happi- ness of tea and cotton productions. Indeed these are the signs [of prosperity] of our twentieth century.”26 Following this glorification of the global system of trade and transport, Deng immediately turned to the humanists’ view of natural selection by drawing attention to Chinese suffering

25 He Tingmo 1903. 26 Deng Shi 1902e: 37a–37b. The original is “通東西半球之郵，結新舊兩文化之婚，享黃金世界之幸福，食茶棉生涯之樂利。今豈非二十周新世紀之景象乎!” the paradox of global competition 27 during the second half of the nineteenth century. “However, as people in the East and the West welcome the new century with fragrant flowers and honor it with bells and songs, we should not forget the nineteenth century because it gave birth to the twentieth century. Without the nineteenth century, there would not have been the twentieth century. The nineteenth century was the stage where [nations in] the whole world competed [with one another].”27 In bringing up the theme of nineteenth- century competition, Deng skillfully reminded his readers of the defeats, humiliation, and suffering that global competition had brought to China. Particularly revealing was the “stage” metaphor that he used to describe the global competition of power. Similar to the opening to the ocean the “stage” (wutai 舞臺) had double meaning. In addition to the usual meaning of “the stage of the five continents” that referred to the intricate networks of roads, railways, waterways, rivers, and shipping lines, the “world stage” also evoked a sinister image of brutality and mercilessness in the global competition of national power. In addition to being a platform for actors or performers to express their artistic talents, the “world stage” was also a coliseum where the strong hunted down the weak, and the powerful exterminated the powerless. Because of the brutality and mercilessness of global competition, Deng was both hopeful and fearful about the future of China. He argued that whereas the nineteenth century was “the age of nationalism,” the twentieth century would be “the age of nationalist imperialism.”28 As global competition became more intense in the twentieth century when it expanded its scope from military confrontation to economic rivalry, it would become even more brutal and hostile. The site of competition would move from the battlefields to the everyday life of ordinary people. Hence, competition would involve people from every sector of society, extending from the cities to the countryside and from the coast to the hinterlands. With the scope and scale of competition expanded exponentially, Deng predicted that China would face more challenges in global competition. And yet, even though the future of China was not promising, he rallied his countrymen to do whatever they could to participate in global competition. Writing like an ethnic nationalist, he urged his readers to work hard

27 Ibid.: 37b. The original is “雖然東西人莫不香花以歡迎此世紀，鐘鼓以歌舞此世紀矣，然吾腦中所不能忘情者，則十九世紀也。蓋十九世紀者，二十世紀之母也。無十九世紀不能生二十世紀。十九世紀世界一大競爭之舞臺。” 28 Ibid.: 37b. The original is “十九世紀為民族主義之時代，二十世紀為民族帝國之時代。” 28 chapter one to expel foreign imperialists, to dominate the Pacific Ocean region, and to revive the militaristic spirit of the Mongols of the Yuan dynasty.29 In the early 1900s, this conflict between the scientistic and humanistic views of natural selection was not idle talk among writers who wanted to sell books and journals. The conflict had direct repercussions on the direction of the New Policies. One of the contentions among the New Policies reformers was the type of political structure that the Qing government should build to catch up with the world. Should it be a constitutional monarchy like Meiji Japan had adopted or the republican system that some advanced countries like France and the United States had per- fected? In Zhengyi tongbao, there was no consensus on this issue. Worst still, even the supporters of the “scientistic” view of natural selection could not come to an agreement on the specific stage China had achieved in evolution. As a result, both constitutional monarchy and republicanism seemed to be acceptable depending on one’s scheme of evolution.30 Another contentious issue among the New Policies reformers was the status of the literati (shi 士) when the Qing government prepared to abolish the civil service examinations. As journalists and essayists, some Zhengyi tongbao writers saw their writings as fulfilling some of the work previously assigned to the literati, such as bridging the government and the people. On this score, the supporters of the “scientistic” view of natural selection appeared to triumph over the supporters of the “humanistic” view of natural selection. Showing the inevitability of linear progression, the supporters of the “scientistic” view of natural selection emphasized the growth of print technology, the expansion of the print market, and the impact of reaching millions of people through newspapers, journals, and magazines.31 And yet, despite their optimism about the postexamination society, none of the Zhengyi tongbao writers directly challenged the traditional system of “four groups of people”—scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants. As cultural workers who made a living from the print market, the Zhengyi tongbao writers found themselves in an awkward situation in

29 Ibid.: 40a. 30 Deng Shi appeared to be of two minds regarding constitutional monarchy and republicanism. When he discussed the stages of political evolution, he supported constitutional monarchy due to China being behind in political development (see Deng Shi 1902f ). But when he discussed the power of the people, he supported republicanism (see Deng Shi 1902g). 31 Li Zhenduo 1902 and Jiateng Hongzhi (Kato Hiroyuki) 1903. the paradox of global competition 29 which they were partly literati and partly merchants, but they could not claim to be either one of them.32 One may argue that this lack of consensus in Zhengyi tongbao is precisely its success, being what Joan Judge calls “the middle realm” between state and society.33 The communication between the rulers and the ruled needed not be uniform or scripted because the key point was to convey opinions and views between the two parties. One may also argue that the polyphony in Zhengyi tongbao exemplified the “fin-de-siècle splendor” that David Der-wei Wang identifies as the “repressed modernity” in China at the turn of the twentieth century.34 The confusion and the competing voices in Zhengyi tongbao brought forth the liveliness in a debate in which new ideas and concepts emerged out of disagreement. Nevertheless, as one of the emerging channels to connect state and society, Zhengyi tongbao failed to present a consistent position when major decisions regarding the New Policies were made. In hindsight, those decisions were extremely important in restructuring the political and social systems as China was being transformed from an empire to a nation-state. At this critical juncture of China’s transformation, the Zhengyi tongbao writers would have been more effective as “the middle realm” if they would have put forward a sharp and coherent position on how to solve China’s problems in global competition. This failure to effectively participate in the debate of the New Policies was one of the reasons that Deng Shi decided to start a new journal, Guocui xuebao, in 1905. Rather than a hodgepodge of jarring media forms, the new journal focused on classical scholarship, historical studies, literature, and fine arts. Instead of trying to reach a wide variety of audiences to maximize profit, the new journal was aimed at one particular group that would have great impact on the New Policies: the literati. More importantly, with the new format of starting each issue of Guocui xuebao with an editor’s note (sheshuo 社說) and a strict structure for classifying articles, Deng Shi was able to use his voice to shape the direction of discussions in the journal. By being more aggressive in shaping the direction of the journal, Deng Shi was able to present a clear view on how to improve China’s position in

32 This confusion of not being able to fit journalists, writers, and publishers into the traditional system of simin is clearly shown in Li Zhenduo 1902. In the article, Li tried to explain the new roles that simin would play in a modern nation-state. But he had a hard time discussing the role of the literati (shi 士). For more details of the transformation of simin in early twentieth century, see chapter 2. 33 Judge 1996: 17–31. 34 David Der-wei Wang 1997: 13–52. 30 chapter one global competition. As we shall see, these changes made Guocui xuebao a more effective journal in shaping public opinions, particularly the view of the educated elite toward building a new Chinese nation.

Yan Fu’s Answer

If Guocui xuebao gave Deng Shi a new platform to shape the debate of the New Policies, the publication of Yan Fu’s translation of Edward Jenks’s A History of Politics in 1904 gave Deng a new framework for discussing China’s fate in global competition. Known as Shehui tongquan (社會通詮 A study of societies), Yan Fu’s publication presented Jenks’s view on the developments of government, society, and economy. According to Jenks, since the dawn of human history, humankind has gone through three distinct stages of evolution in its sociopolitical structure—tribalism, feudalism, and the nation-state. In each stage, there is a direct correspondence between the economic and sociopolitical structures. In tribalism, the economy is hunting and gathering, and the sociopolitical structure is a network of small matriarchal communities.35 In feudalism, the economy is agriculture, and the sociopolitical structure is a confederation of large patriarchal clans.36 In the age of nation-states, the economy is industry, and the sociopolitical structure is a complex and highly mobile system of professionals and skilled laborers.37 To early twentieth-century Chinese readers, Jenks’s three-stage evolution was not entirely new. From Yan Fu’s earlier translations—particularly of Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, and Montesquieu’s Spirit of Laws—Chinese readers had learned about the developments of various forms of political, social, and economic systems in Europe.38 What was new in Shehui tongquan was Jenks’s “law of social evolution” that connected the seemingly random changes in government, society, and economy into a clear pattern of linear progression. Furthermore, in each of Jenks’s stages, the political, social, and economic structures reinforce one another, forming a highly integrated system that reveals the level of human development. In tribal society, for instance, the mobile lifestyle and the matriarchal family structure are created to serve

35 Yan Fu 1981: 6–13. 36 Ibid.: 14–64. 37 Ibid.: 65–159. 38 For the impact of these Yan Fu translations on Chinese intellectuals, see Xiong Yuezhi 1994: 687–700. the paradox of global competition 31 the hunting-and-gathering economy. Conversely, the hunters and gatherers flourish only when they are able to pack and move quickly from one place to another. Similarly, the settled lifestyle and the patrilineal family structure that characterize a feudal society are derived from an agrarian economy. At the same time, agricultural production will never take off until farmers can settle permanently in one place and pass on their land from generation to generation. In a nation-state, the existence of a complex system of skilled laborers is a result of the rationalization and commercialization of an industrial economy. But an industrial economy will never flourish unless there is a constant supply of skilled workers who are professionally trained rather than related in blood. In short, Jenks’s contribution lies in his insight on the interdependence of the political, social, and economic realms. And this insight allowed him to compare and rank societies. In Yan Fu’s translation, the increasingly complex relationship between economy and sociopolitical structure was made clear by the number of chapters devoted to each stage of evolution. Whereas Yan Fu devoted only one chapter to tribalism, he used five chapters to discuss feudalism and seven chapters to describe the nation-state. But for Deng Shi and other Guocui xuebao writers, the significance of Shehui tongquan went beyond Jenks’s three-stage evolution. For them, what was truly inspiring in Shehui tongquan was Yan Fu’s brief remarks in his translator’s preface ( yizhe xu 譯者序). In the preface, Yan Fu not only succinctly summarized Jenks’s three-stage evolution but also care- fully applied it to the history of China. The result of this intellectual exer- cise was a stunning revelation of China’s past, present, and future. Alas! Chinese society is indeed strange. There are many forms of human grouping in this world. And yet if we examine them based on the stages of evolution, they begin as primitive tribes, continue on as feudal states, and finally reach nation-states. . . . The sequence of this development is as reliable as the four seasons. When comparing [this three-stage sequence] to the human body, it is like a child turning into an adolescent, an adolescent growing up into an adult, and an adult becoming an aged person. These changes may take longer or less time to complete. Nevertheless they never deviate from the broad pattern.39 In summarizing Jenks’s argument, Yan Fu strictly followed the formula of his three-stage evolution. Writing like an ardent supporter of the

39 Yan Fu 1981: ix. The original sentences are “異哉! 吾中國之社會也。夫天下之群, 眾矣，夷考進化之階級，莫不始于圖騰，繼以宗法, 而成于國家。 . . . 此其為序之信，若天之四時，若人身之童少壯老，期有遲速，而不可或少紊者也。” 32 chapter one

scientistic view of natural selection, he emphasized the inevitability of the three-stage evolution by comparing it to the four seasons and the four stages of human life (childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and old age). As with weather and the cycle of human life, human beings had to accept this three-stage evolution as a given. While sounding like a strong believer in the immutable law of nature, in other parts of the preface Yan Fu quietly inserted a hint of human agency. He mentioned that although the general pattern of the three-stage evolution was not transmutable, the length of time in completing a particular stage varied from place to place due to circumstances. Sometimes a stage of evolution might last longer in one place and take a shorter time in another. This humanistic view of natural selection was particularly clear at the end of the preface where Yan Fu discussed the different temporalities of China and Europe in going through the three-stage evolution. In this comparison, Yan Fu went beyond Jenks by converting what originally was a general law of evolution into a historical perspective for cultural comparison. He argued that China “started early” (shi zhou 始驟) when transforming from tribalism to feudalism. The transition was complete before the Xia dynasty, and throughout the early antiquity (i.e., the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties) China flourished in feudalism due to advanced agricultural production and a sophisticated patrilineal family system. By 221 BCE when the first emperor of the Qin dynasty unified China under a new “county-district system” ( junxian zhi 郡縣制), Yan Fu argued, China reached the critical threshold of being ready to transform into a nation-state. Back in the second century BCE, China could have been the first country in the world to reach the pinnacle of human evolution in sociopolitical structure.40 And yet, China failed to make the critical leap, so the transformation was never completed. For two millennia from the second century BCE to the nineteenth century CE, Yan Fu lamented, China was locked in the stage of advanced feudalism and was never able to move forward to forming a nation-state. As a result, China was “behind in the end” (zhong chi 終遲) and was surpassed by countries in Europe. In contrast, Yan Fu pointed out that Europe “began late” (shi chi 始遲) in transitioning from tribalism to feudalism. But it picked up speed after 1500 and led humankind into the age of nation-states. Being “fast in the end” (zhong zhou 終驟), Europe surpassed China in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in political, social, and economic systems.41

40 Ibid. 41 Ibid. the paradox of global competition 33

To summarize the lesson from the different temporalities in China and Europe, Yan Fu wrote, Alas! Despite the different names given to Europe and Asia, they are part of the same continent where different groups of people emerge and coexist. If we trace the origin of these different groups to the remote past, they come from the same ancestor. And yet, in evolution, people in Europe started late and picked up speed later, and we started early and slowed down later. Hence, in studying the evolution of humankind, we should focus on the general pattern that covers a long period of time. [From this perspective,] it is clear that there must be reasons for the [temporal] difference between Europe and China. It is also clear that we must understand what is happening today from the perspective of this [temporal] difference.42 In a measured tone, Yan Fu told his readers that there was hope for China despite its defeats and humiliation in recent decades. Yan’s optimism was based on an observation that in ancient times, China used to be leading the world in transitioning from tribalism to feudalism. Although the pace of China’s evolution slowed down later, it reached the point where it was ready to be a nation-state in 221 BCE. These achievements, despite being two thousand years old, would be the basis for China’s current transformation in the twentieth century. Another source of Yan Fu’s optimism was the European experience. Yan Fu directed readers’ attention to Europe’s miraculous rise after centuries of being behind in evolution. Speaking like a supporter of the humanistic view of natural selection, Yan Fu called on his readers to learn from the Europeans and to help China come from behind.

China’s Path to Modernity

In the final section of the preface, Yan Fu displayed tremendous pride and satisfaction from discovering the different temporalities in China and Europe. Filled with joy and pride, he told his readers that in the process of translating Edward Jenks’s book, he was so moved by his discovery that many times he put down his pen and ran around the room to congratulate himself.43 While there is no evidence that Deng Shi and the other Guocui xuebao writers also put down their pens and ran around the room after

42 Ibid.: x. The original sentences are “嗟乎！歐、亞之地雖異名，其實一洲而已，殊類異化并生其中，苟溯之邃古之初，又同種也，乃世變之遷流，在彼則始遲而終驟，在此則始驟而終遲，因知天演之事，以萬期為须臾，然而二者相差之致，又不能為無因之果，而又不能不為吾群今日之利害，亦已明矣。” 43 Ibid.: x. 34 chapter one reading Yan Fu’s preface, it is clear that they took seriously his view when embarking on their project of creating a modern Chinese nation. As we shall see in the following chapters, Yan Fu’s discovery resolved the tension between the scientistic and humanistic views of natural selection that had perplexed and frustrated many Chinese thinkers. Based on the different temporalities of China’s and Europe’s evolution, the Guocui xuebao writers could support both the scientistic and humanistic views of natural selection. On the one hand, they could promote the iron law of natural evolution by adopting Jenks’s three-stage evolution. On the other hand, they could assert the humanistic view of natural selection by focusing on China’s peculiar temporality in evolution. The two views reinforced each other in the sense that the iron law of evolution forced the Chinese to take action to avoid being eliminated in natural selection, and the Chinese efforts to come back from behind reaffirmed the iron law of evolution. More significantly, based on Yan Fu’s historical account, the Guocui xuebao writers developed a cultural agenda to transform China into a nation- state. The cultural agenda included four elements: (1) affirming what the Chinese had accomplished in ancient times when they were far ahead of the rest of the world; (2) reviving the advanced sociopolitical system before 221 BCE when China was on the brink of becoming the first nation-state in the world; (3) ending China’s centuries-long stagnation by dismantling the imperial system; and (4) mobilizing the educated elite to be the leaders of the Chinese nation-state. Correspondingly, the Guocui xuebao writers transformed these four cultural elements into four interconnected historical projects to (1) underscore China’s achievements in ancient times by promoting Sino-Babylonianism; (2) give an account of the primitive form of the Chinese nation-state by reinterpreting the history of the Eastern Zhou period (770–221 BCE); (3) launch a critique of autocratic monarchy by showing its brutality and oppression; and (4) mobilize the educated elite by creating a collective memory of resistance. In the first two historical projects, the Guocui xuebao writers followed Yan Fu’s suggestion to build a modern nation-state based on their ancestors’ spectacular achievements before 221 BCE. In the latter two projects, they heeded Yan Fu’s advice to learn from the European experience to free China from its centuries-long stagnation. Together, the four historical projects formed a magic key to resolve China’s predicament in global competition. On the one hand, they explained China’s defeats and failures since the Opium War as being caused by China’s centuries-long stagnation. On the other hand, they gave hope to the Chinese by assuring them success in coming from behind in the modern age. CHAPTER two

New Roles of the Educated Elite

Long considered a fertile attempt to resuscitate the crumbling Qing dynasty,1 recent scholarship has shown that the New Policies (xinzheng 新政, 1901–1911) were in many respects groundbreaking in creating a nation-state in China.2 Central to the New Policies was the establishment of the modern systems of control and mobilization, including a parlia- ment, local self-governments, a national school system, and a national transportation network. Together, these systems were to create a centralizing state that would be powerful enough to mobilize the country to defend its national sovereignty. With so many changes taking place simultaneously, the New Policies period was filled with enormous anxiety and unbridled creativity. From the perspective of the educated elite, the New Policies ended many practices that, for a long time, made them the “corulers” of the empire.3 On the other hand, as discussed in the last chapter, the New Policies also brought hope for creating the “middle realm” between state and society, thereby transforming the educated elite into the “spokesmen of the people.”4 Viewing the New Policies in this light, it was not accidental that Guocui xuebao was founded in 1905—the same year the Qing government replaced the civil service examinations with a national school system. For more than a millennium, the civil service examinations had been what Ping-ti Ho calls “the ladder of success” for the educated elite to become political, social, and cultural leaders.5 Although plagued by problems of fairness and accountability, the examinations not only bestowed power on successful candidates to rule the country, but also established a body of knowledge

1 Wright 1968: introduction. 2 Reynolds 1993; Esherick 1976; Fogel and Zarrow 1997; Suisheng Zhao 2004: 1–59. 3 Kuhn 1975. Here the distinction between the literati and the educated elite is crucial. As scholar-officials and scholar-gentry, the literati were closely tied to the civil examination system. Their political and social status was in many ways determined by their success in the examinations. In contrast, the educated elite refers broadly to the educated people who may or may not be directly linked to the examinations. 4 Judge 1996: 1–13. 5 See Ho 1962; Chaffee 1995. 36 chapter two that defined membership in the learned community.6 Referred to by Peter Bol as “this culture of ours,” the examinations created a common identity among the literati (shi 士) as the custodians of “the genealogy of the Way” (daotong 道統).7 Seeing themselves as moral leaders, the literati believed that they had the responsibility of shaping political and social behavior by prescribing moral and ritual codes. Because of the central role that examinations had played in defining the membership and the self-identity of the literati, the abolition of the examinations in 1905 triggered a profound soul-searching among the educated elite.8 For those who had passed the examinations, they needed to find ways to keep their elite status in the new political and social environment. For those who were yet to pass the examinations, they needed to make sure that their time and efforts spent in preparing for the examinations would not be wasted. Whereas the abolition of the examinations posed a challenge to the educated elite, the founding of a national school system offered them new opportunities. In Zouding xuetang zhangcheng (奏定學堂章程 Approved school regulations, 1904), the Qing government spelled out unequivocally the structure and goal of the national school system. The system consisted of four levels of schools—primary schools, junior high schools, high schools, and universities. Its goal was to create, in Pierre Bourdieu’s terms, a “state nobility” who would spend years in school receiving training to serve the nation.9 For example, teachers of lower-level primary schools (for ages seven to twelve) were told to strengthen students’ “foundation for loving the nation” (ai guojia zhi genji 愛國家之根基).10 Likewise, teachers of higher-level primary schools (for ages twelve to sixteen) were instructed to help students develop their health, knowledge, and good character as “citizens of the nation” (guomin 國民).11 Although the founding of the school system was clearly part of the Qing government’s plan to centralize power, the educated elite found ample opportunities to shape the school system by presenting themselves as “the tutors to the people.” As political theorists, they joined the discussion of the “Chinese nation” and the “Chinese race” that informed the curriculum of the school system.

6 For a study of the social and political impacts of the civil service examination system, see Elman 2000: especially 125–172, 239–370. 7 Bol 1992. 8 Qing officials had a heated debate on the abolition of the examination system; see Franke 1963. 9 Bourdieu 1996: 1–53. 10 Li and Wang 2000: 312. 11 Ibid.: 313; Liu Longxin 2001: 492. new roles of the educated elite 37

As educators, they wrote textbooks and gave advice on curriculum to win the hearts and minds of the young Chinese. As social leaders, they formed local educational associations, such as the powerful Jiangsu Provincial Education Association (Jiangsu Sheng Jiaoyu Hui 江蘇省教育會), to gain influence on local and national politics. Whatever measures they took, the educated elite found ways to shape the discourse on the nation by joining the discussion of education.12

The Preservation of National Learning

As mentioned earlier, Guocui xuebao was published by the Association for the Preservation of National Learning (Guoxue Baocun Hui 國學保存會) located on Fourth Avenue in Shanghai. The location of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning is significant for two reasons. First, on Fourth Avenue, the association was joined by large numbers of retail out- lets, trade associations, stationers, calligraphers, painters, printing presses, and shops selling the traditional “four treasures” of scholars (brushes, ink, inkstones, and paper). Because of its location, the association was a hub for writers, artists, calligraphers, painters, and printing press owners, and it was part of the public realm of professionals that was developing in various Chinese urban cities.13 To make the association truly a hub for learners and cultural producers, its leaders included a library inside the association. The library was not only open to members of the association but also to the public (if they paid a nominal fee).14 Later, its leaders planned to include a “school of national learning” (guoxue xuetang 國學學堂) to make the association a center for national learning. The plan included an elaborate curriculum combining traditional and modern subjects, offering a three-year training equivalent to a Western college education. The plan envisioned the enrollment of sixty full-time students and twenty part-time students.15 Second, throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, some three hundred major and minor publishing firms assembled

12 For further discussions on the roles of the educated elite in the late Qing educational reforms, see Bastid 1988: 53–65; Borthwick 1983: 87–103; Schwintzer 1992: 55–270. 13 Reed 2004: 16–18, 188–199; Li Renyuan 2005: 213–224. 14 Deng Shi, one of the leaders of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning, explained the qualifications for membership and the rules of the library in the article “Guoxue baocun hun xiaoji xu 國學保存會小集敍” (Resolutions from the first meeting of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning). See Deng Shi 1905a. 15 The plan of establishing a school of national learning was announced in 1907. See Guocui xuebao 26 (1907): sheshuo, 1a–4b. 38 chapter two on Fourth Avenue.16 Thus, it is not surprising that the cornerstone of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning was a printing press. The press not only published Guocui xuebao, but also a wide range of publications including the Cathay Art Book (Shenzhou guoguang ji 神州國光集), the Collected Works of National Essence (Guocui congshu 國粹叢書), the Collected Works of the Pavilion of Wind and Rain (Fengyu lou congshu 風雨樓叢書), and history and geography textbooks. From 1905 to 1911, the association had published altogether fifteen volumes of the Cathay Art Book, hundreds of titles of reprinted writings, and several sets of textbooks for seven provinces. As the list of publications shows, some publications of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning were clearly for profit. For example, the Cathay Art Book and the Collected Works of National Essence were aimed at wealthy and cultured customers who could afford to pay high prices for refined and exotic works.17 This was particularly true of the Cathay Art Book, which contained photoreproductions of large-sized works of art printed with the most advanced collotype printing technology imported from Japan. In a 1909 advertisement in Guocui xuebao, it was stated that the photoreproductions in the Cathay Art Book were so “close to real” (bizhen 逼真) that those who bought it would feel like they possessed the original works of art.18 Partly selling commercial products and partly preserving ancient artwork, the Cathay Art Book catered to genteel customers who wanted to own a piece of art. As for the Collected Works of National Essence, it contained reprints of major literary and historical writings of authors from the Song to the Qing dynasties. Most of the reprints were rare editions, banned books, or newly discovered manuscripts and were intended to satisfy the bibliophilic interests of the genteel class. Another source of profit for the Association for the Preservation of National Learning was publishing textbooks. From 1905 to 1907, the association published textbooks for seven provinces, including subjects like history, geography, literature, ethics, and classical studies.19 Considering the

16 Reed 2004: 17–18. 17 For the publication of the Cathay Art Book, see the advertisements for it in Guocui xuebao 41–70 (1908–1910). For some of the titles of reprinted texts, see the advertisements for the first volume of Guocui congshu in Guocui xuebao 27 (1907) and the first volume of Fengyu lou congshu in Guocui xuebao 69 (1910). 18 See the advertisement for the Cathay Art Book in Guocui xuebao 52 (1909). 19 For the publication of school textbooks, see the advertisement in Guocui xuebao 28 (1907). Summaries of the textbooks produced by the Association for the Preservation of National Learning appeared in the 1907 Zhengyi tongbao. See Deng 1907c, Huhai qingdeng ji shang 湖海清燈集上: 3a–15b, and Huhai qingdeng ji xia 湖海清燈集下: 7a–8a. new roles of the educated elite 39 fact that there were only eighteen administrative provinces in Qing China, the association practically published textbooks for more than one-third of the country. More importantly, the association published textbooks immediately after the Manchu government announced the plan for building a national school system in 1904. Despite the anti-Manchu standpoint of its leaders, the association showed strong support of the late Qing educational reforms, viewing them as part of building a modern Chinese nation. And for a short while, the association was a major player in the textbook market, competing with the Commercial Press (Shangwu Yinshuguan 商務印書館)—the national giant in textbook printing—in producing textbooks for the new school system.20 As the list of publications also shows, some publications of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning were not for profit. For instance, the association published Guocui xuebao, which depended heavily on subscriptions and donations, especially the donations from the two chief editors, Deng Shi (鄧實, 1877–1951) and Huang Jie (黃節, 1873– 1935).21 The journal was not commercially profitable because the majority of its writers were young and unknown scholars such as Chen Qubing (陳去病, 1874–1933), Huang Binhong (黃賓虹, 1865–1955), Liu Shipei (劉師培, 1884−1919), Ma Xulun (馬敍倫, 1885–1970), and Zhang Taiyan (章太炎, 1869–1936). In the old imperial tradition, these writers belonged to the lower echelon of the educated elite who were yet to be recognized as the literati—the degree holders who passed the civil service examinations. Some of them, such as Chen Qubing and Zhang Taiyan, never took the examinations and saw the examination system as part of the Qing’s cooptation of the educated elite. Others, such as Deng Shi, Huang Binhong and Huang Jie, took the examinations but did not succeed. Like Yan Fu, the accomplished translator, these young scholars gained respect and recognition in the cultural field not by passing the civil service examinations, but by succeeding in selling their works in the print market. Thus, it was print capitalism that gave these young scholars the cultural space to move up the social ladder. And it was journalism that gave them the

20 The founding of the national school system was a major boost to the textbook industry. See Zarrow 2007; Ching 2007; Hon 2007. 21 The two editors used their savings to support the publication of the journal for the first three years (1905–1908). After 1908, they made an appeal to supporters to donate money to the journal. Yet the lion’s share of the publication expenses in the last three years (1908–1911) was still paid for by their donations. For the financial support of the journal, see “Fakanci” 發刊詞, Guocui xuebao 1 (1905), and 國學保存會報告 (Report of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning) in Guocui xuebao 38–68 (1908–1910). 40 chapter two

symbolic capital to shape public opinion. As such, unlike the old literati, they earned their status as educated elites by directly addressing the problems of China in the age of global commerce and competition. To attract a wide variety of readers, the journal was divided into seven sections. In the first two sections, “Editor’s Notes” (sheshuo 社說) and “Political Commentaries” (zhenglun 政論), the writings were usually short but sharp and forceful. They were written in an argumentative style intended to persuade readers to adopt a certain perspective. Usually the theme was the moral responsibility of the learned community to save the Chinese race, to defend the Chinese nation, and to preserve Chinese culture. Occasionally, the writings offered rebuttals to current view- points, such as the “uselessness” of classical learning and the adoption of Esperanto in China. In the third and fourth sections, “Historical Writings” (shipian 史篇) and “Philosophical Writings” (xuebian 學篇), the writings were longer and full of details, sometimes so long that they were serialized for months. Historically and textually grounded, the articles in these two sections offered new accounts of historical events and new interpretations of philosophical writings to support the arguments in the “Editor’s Notes” and “Political Commentaries” sections. In the last three sections—“Literary Writings” (wenpian 文篇), “Miscellaneous Discussions” (congtan 叢談), and “Excerpted Writings” (zhuanlu 撰錄)—the writings were brief but artistic, intending to suit the aesthetic taste of genteel readers. The writings included poems and short essays by established scholars such as Chen Boyan (陳伯嚴, 1853–1937), Jian Chaoliang (簡朝亮, 1851–1933), and Sun Yirang (孫詒讓, 1848–1908), lending legitimacy to the journal as an academic journal. To show that the journal was neutral to academic debates, these sections included writings of both the Old Text School scholars (e.g., Zhang Taiyan and Liu Shipei) and the New Text School scholars (e.g., Liao Ping [廖平, 1852–1932] and Wang Kaiyun [王闓運, 1833–1916]). To satisfy readers’ bibliophilic interests, the journal also published excerpts from banned or exotic books, accompanied by visual illustrations (such as paintings, drawings, and calligraphy) that were reprinted with the most advanced Japanese printing technology. The visual art in the journal was not just for illustration, but for two important purposes.22 One purpose was to prove that the journal had the full support of the academic and art circles. For instance, in February 1908, the editors published a series of calligraphy and paintings by established scholars to celebrate the third anniversary of the journal. Major cultural leaders such as the poet

22 For a thoughtful discussion of the paintings in Guocui xuebao, see Claypool 2011. new roles of the educated elite 41

Chen Boyan, the classical scholar Sun Yirang, and the gentry-entrepreneur Zhang Jian (張謇, 1853–1926) contributed calligraphy to commemorate the event. Another purpose was to promote visual art as a unique form of cultural expression in China. In the final two years of the journal, from 1909 to 1911, the editors of the journal made concerted efforts to promote art and literature. They rearranged the sections in the journal such that it carried fewer articles on political commentary and included more writings on poetry, literature, and classical scholarship. What united the two groups of writers—the young and robust scholars who took pride in their global knowledge and “Western learning,” and the older and accomplished literati who still clung to classical learning as cultural capital—was their anxiety about the fate of China in the modern age. For both groups, China’s repeated defeats in foreign wars clearly showed the country’s backwardness in the global competition for wealth and power. For both groups, railroads, electricity, telegraphs, styl- ized buildings, and public parks that appeared in the foreign concessions in coastal China showed the superiority of Westerners in technological advancement and material progress. For both groups, the pressing issue was whether China could adapt to a new global system that was dominated by European powers.

Social and Political Visions of Guocui xuebao

As a major publication of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning, Guocui xuebao played a significant role in advocating political and social changes. For instance, in the “Purposes of Publishing the Journal of National Essence” (Guocui xuebao fakanci 國粹學報發刊詞), Deng Shi, the chief editor of the journal, deliberately addressed “learners” (shi 士) in general without making a distinction between those who had passed the examinations and those who had not. For Deng Shi, all learners—past or present, well-known or unknown, young or old, inside or outside the government—shared the same mission of engaging in classical learning to find solutions to present problems.23 As a discursive strategy, Deng Shi’s broad and indiscriminate call to attention was a calculated move. Taking full advantage of the Qing government’s plan to abolish the examination system, Deng intentionally eliminated the social distinction between successful and unsuccessful

23 “Fakanci” 發刊詞, Guocui xuebao 1 (1905): 1a. 42 chapter two candidates of the examinations. This move allowed Deng (in his early thirties and unsuccessful in the examinations) to speak boldly in the name of true learning. Instead of taking a humble position as a junior member of the learned community, he took the moral high ground to discuss the mission of learning in a world dominated by Western imperialist powers. To drive home his point, Deng traced the developments of classical scholarship over the centuries and called on the readers to continue the tradition by applying their knowledge to solving today’s Chinese problems. Since the opening to the oceans, Western learning has been introduced to China, and Chinese culture barely survives by a single thread. Some unin- formed scholars praise Western learning and denigrate Chinese learning. They consider the Chinese ancient texts as rubbish. . . . Alas, the ancient texts are not outdated, and the ancient system is not outmoded. At a closer look, our ancient country and our ancient capital are as splendid as always. After hundreds of years, [our country] is still full of energy and vitality. For those who are born in this country, should they not make a fair judgment for themselves?24 Although painting a bleak picture of nineteenth-century China, particularly drawing attention to the threat of Western imperialist powers, Deng Shi was optimistic about the future of the country. He blamed the “unin- formed scholars” (louru 陋儒) for unnecessarily exaggerating the power of the Western nations and unreflectively criticizing Chinese learning and the Chinese system. For him, hope lay in the hands of open-minded learners who would use their classical learning and historical knowledge to strengthen China. With cultural capital gained from preparing for the examinations, Deng stressed, they would “bring light to the world from the eastern land, renew the ancient learning of China, and fulfill the learners’ wishes of protecting the race (baozhong 保種), loving the nation (aiguo 愛國), and preserving learning (cunxue 存學).”25 On the surface, Deng Shi seemed to repeat what Zhang Zhidong (張之洞, 1837–1909) had already said in Exhortation to Learning (Quanxue pian 勸學篇, 1898). Similar to Zhang, Deng appeared to be calling on the educated elite to protect the country (baoguo 保國), the race (baozhong

24 Ibid.: 1b. The original is “海通以來，泰西學術輸入中邦，震旦文明不絕一線。無識陋儒或揚西抑中，視舊籍如苴土。 . . . 嗟乎！舊籍未淪，風徽未沫。舊國舊都，望之暢然，雖百世之下，猶將感發興起。況生於其邦，可不知尚論其人乎？” Deng Shi made a more detailed argument for preserving “national learning” in 1905e. 25 Ibid.: 1b. new roles of the educated elite 43

保種), and Chinese learning (baojiao 保教) when China was threatened by Western powers and Western learning.26 He seemed to position his journal as another attempt to preserve Chinese learning as “essence” (ti 體) and to limit Western learning to “function” ( yong 用).27 But unlike Zhang Zhidong, Deng did not equate the protection of the country and the race with steadfast loyalty to the Qing government. Nor did he con- fine the protection of Confucian learning to preserving the “Three Bonds and Five Constants” (sangang wuchang 三綱五常)—the superiority of emperor over official, father over son, and husband over wife. Instead, he stressed “the development of national learning” ( faming guoxue 發明國學) and “the preservation of national essence” (baocun guocui 保存國粹).28 These two phrases revealed Deng’s own vision of Chinese modernity. Internationally, he wanted to distinguish China from other countries in its quest for modernity. Domestically, he wanted to solidify a common identity among the Chinese to form a modern nation. Ultimately, he wanted there to be a revolution to replace the Qing dynasty with a new nation ruled by the Han race.29 Yet despite his different goals, Deng deliberately used the language of Zhang Zhidong to speak to the educated elite. Rather than directly calling on readers to take up arms against the Manchus, Deng skillfully reinterpreted Zhang’s notions of “protecting the country,” “protecting the race,” and “protecting Chinese learning,” and redeployed them as revolutionary slogans against the Manchu rulers. In making these demands, Deng was not daydreaming. Owning a press that could reproduce texts in large numbers at a stunning speed, he knew he possessed the technology to influence public discourse. He also knew global knowledge and professional learning had replaced classical scholarship as the new criteria for being a member of the educated elite. Above all, witnessing the expansion of the “middle realm,” he knew the days had come when the new intellectuals did not need to rely on the government to be successful in the publishing world.

26 See Zhang Zhidong 1898: section two ( jiaozhong 教忠), section three (minggang 明綱), section four (baozhong 保種). 27 For an analysis of Zhang Zhidong’s Exhortation to Learning, see Hon 2002. 28 “Fakanci,” Guocui xuebao 1 (1905): 2b. 29 For another interpretation of the Guocui xuebao writers’ difference from Zhang Zhidong, see Laurence Schneider 1976: 64. 44 chapter two

Figure 2.1. The cover page of the first issue of the Cathay Art Book (Shenzhou guoguang ji). On the lower left corner, the editors reminded readers that the reproduction of paintings was sponsored by the Association for the Preservation of National Learning. new roles of the educated elite 45

Figure 2.2. The title page (left) and the back cover page (right) of Guocui xuebao 11 (1908). On the back cover page, readers were urged to subscribe to the journal. 46 chapter two

Figure 2.3. A work of art in Guocui xuebao. The editor claimed that they used the new collotype technology to print the works of art. Chapter three

The Law of Social Evolution1

In current scholarship, Guocui xuebao is widely criticized for its ardent support of Sino-Babylonianism—the belief that the Chinese originated from Mesopotamia and moved to China in early antiquity under the leadership of the Yellow Emperor. Certainly, from today’s perspective, Sino-Babylonianism (or xilai shuo 西來説) is unsustainable because of its factual errors and its assumption of the monogenesis of old world civilizations.2 For critics of Orientalism, Sino-Babylonianism is a blatant example of Westerners exerting their power of knowledge to denigrate and marginalize non-Western peoples.3 For scholars concerned with the prejudices of the ultranationalists, Sino-Babylonianism is a dangerous theory that supports the narrow view of equating the Chinese with the Han race.4 This “Great Hanism” (dahan zhuyi 大漢主義), some scholars argue, might serve the purpose of mobilizing the Chinese in revolting against the Qing government, but it sowed the seeds of racial hatred between the Han and the Manchu and caused racial atrocities that occurred during the 1911 Revolution.5 Factual errors and sharp racial tones notwithstanding, the Guocui xuebao writers had reasons to support Sino-Babylonianism. At the time, they might not have fully understood the negative impact of the implied racial- ism in Sino-Babylonianism, but they were fascinated by the global image of the ancient world that Sino-Babylonianism presented.6 For them, Sino-Babylonianism linked early China to the networks of commerce and cultural exchange that started in Mesopotamia, went through Persia

1 Part of this chapter is based on my article “From a Hierarchy in Time to a Hierarchy in Space: The Meanings of Sino-Babylonianism in Early Twentieth Century China,” Modern China 36.2 (2010): 139–169. 2 Fang 1954: 32–36; Luo Xianglin 1955: 1–3; Leibold 2006: 199–206. 3 For a discussion of cultural domination in Orientalism, see Said 1994: 1–52. 4 Chow 1997; Dikötter 1992: 116–123, 1997: 1–33; Fitzgerald 1996: 67–88; Shen 1997. 5 For the killing of Manchu soldiers and civilians during the 1911 Revolution, see Crossley 1990: 77–214; Rhoads 2000: 173–230. 6 In a study of the different interpretations of Sino-Babylonianism in Meiji Japan and late Qing China, Sun Jiang (孙江) argues that both the Japanese and the Chinese used Lacouperie’s ideas to articulate their views of global order. See Sun 2010. 48 chapter three and India, and reached the western part of China (in today’s Xinjiang area). More importantly, Sino-Babylonianism confirmed what Yan Fu had said in his preface to Shehui tongquan—namely, early China was an advanced civilization with sophisticated metallurgy, efficient agricultural production, and an organized system of labor. As Yan Fu argued, before the unification under the first emperor of the Qin dynasty in 221 BCE, China was on its way to becoming the first nation-state in the world. In short, Sino-Babylonianism pointed to a unique path of China’s modernity, which consisted of reviving what had been accomplished before 221 BCE and removing the obstacles that had kept China in the feudal age for centuries.

Sino-Babylonianism in Europe

In the history of the East-West cultural encounter, the idea of the western origin of Chinese civilization was not new. As D. E. Mungello points out, during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Jesuits had attempted to interpret Confucianism as a Chinese version of Christianity.7 At the heart of the “Jesuit accommodation” was the belief that the Chinese texts, if read allegorically, would reveal China’s deep connections with Christian Europe. An exemplar of Jesuit accommodation was Joachim Bouvet (1656–1730), a French missionary who for a brief time won the trust of the Qing emperor Kangxi.8 In his writings, Bouvet argued that the Chinese characters were hieroglyphs requiring figurative reading to decode their hidden meanings. He based his argument on a close study of the Book of Changes where he found Fu Xi, the legendary hero in prehistoric China, a representation of the universal lawgiver known to different ancient peoples in a variety of names.9 To further his claim, he showed

7 Mungello 2005: 15–24. 8 Han 1998. 9 The Book of Changes (or Yijing 易經) became a focal point of the Jesuit Accommodation partly because of its status as the head of the Confucian Five Classics (Wujing 五經). It was partly the multiple layers of this particular classic that allowed interpreters ample room for imagination. Originally a manual for divination, the received version of the Book of Changes includes at least three parts: (1) the graphics (trigrams and hexagrams); (2) a written text (hexagram statements and line statements); and (3) a set of early commen- tarial writings (the Ten Wings). For hundreds of years, these three layers of the Yijing had caused continuous debates among Chinese scholars over the meaning of the hexagrams. For those who focused on the first two layers, they believed that the hexagrams were signs of the constant changes in the natural and human worlds. For those who focused on the law of social evolution 49 that the trigrams and hexagrams in the Book of Changes were mathemati- cal symbols proving the existence of the Christian God.10 This attempt to link China to Christian Europe continued throughout the nineteenth century. For instance, in 1871, Joseph Edkins (1823–1905) published China’s Place in Philology in which he demonstrated the similarity between the Chinese language and the European languages.11 In 1892, Terrien de Lacouperie (1845–1894), the professor of Chinese at University College in London, published his best-known work Western Origin of the Early Chinese Civilisation, from 2,300 B.C. to 200 A.D. (hereafter, Western Origin). Cleverly combining the archaeological knowledge of the time and his gifts in philology, Lacouperie argued that the Chinese were descendants of the Bak tribe who migrated to China from Mesopotamia in prehistoric times.12 A textual support of his argument was, again, the Book of Changes. Based on a meticulous comparison of the hexagrams and the cuneiform writings of Mesopotamia, he concluded that the Book of Changes was a Babylonian dictionary, containing the hidden code of an advanced civilization outside of China.13 Speaking in a tone filled with scientific certainty and scholarly authority, Lacouperie wrote, “In all the cases where verification is possible, we have found that innovations and changes in Western Asia have made their mark in China. The reverse cir- cumstance did not happen, and the influence of one side on the other remained unreciprocated, because China in antiquity had very little to give to West Asia.”14 Lacouperie’s discovery sparked a heated discussion in Europe about the origin of Chinese civilization. The discussion focused on the links between Mesopotamia and China that might show China’s debts to the “cradle of human civilization.” In tracing the links between Mesopotamia and China, Lacouperie basically repeated what the Jesuits did in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Like the Jesuits, he assumed that China must have been shaped by foreign culture. Remarkably similar to Bouvet, he focused on the Book of Changes because of its graphic symbols and mathemati- cal signs—the allegedly universal languages that all human communities shared. Yet he differed from the Jesuits in one area. Instead of relying on the Ten Wings, they believed that the hexagrams were graphic illustrations of Confucius’s moral philosophy. 10 Mungello 1985: 77–105; Smith 2001. 11 Edkins 1871: 1–19, 397–403. 12 Lacouperie 1894a: 1–8. 13 Lacouperie 1892a: v–xix. 14 Lacouperie 1894a: x. 50 chapter three the biblical text to connect China with Europe, he sought authority in empirical sciences to construct what he considered a fact-based account of early China. For Lacouperie, the western origin of Chinese civilization was a conclusion that he drew from practicing the “science of history.”15 By the science of history, he meant not merely a careful collection of documents and an intensive study of historical texts, but also recently developed empirical methods that gave the past an aura of authenticity: the archaeological study of historical sites like tombs and monuments, the collection and cataloguing of material artifacts like coins and ornaments, and the phil- ological and linguistic comparison of disparate texts found in different lands. These empirical methods became prominent in Victorian England as a result of the rise of Assyriology. Championed by scholars like Henry Creswicke Rawlinson (1810–1895) and implemented through such eminent institutions as the British Museum and the Council of the Royal Asiatic Society, the empirical studies of material artifacts from Mesopotamia represented a breakthrough in human understanding of the past.16 In the words of A. C. Sayce (1845–1933), an ardent admirer of Assyriology, the empirical study of the past symbolized “one of the scientific triumphs of the present century.”17 In his copious writings on China, Lacouperie proved that he had mastered the science of history. He compared the Babylonian hieroglyphs with the Chinese characters; he examined the Chinese coins; he studied the writing systems in Central and East Asia.18 With this vast pool of empirical data, Lacouperie felt that he understood the history of early China better than Chinese scholars. For him, Chinese scholars might pos- sess more written documents, but they were unable to fully understand their own past because of “lacking originality and creative power, deeply imbued with reverence with the ancients.”19 What the science of history provided, according to Lacouperie, was an insight into human history that was never available before. Covering a long span of time and connecting lands far apart, the science of history showed that “there is no such thing as the history of one country.”20 From the beginning, human history was

15 Ibid.: ix. 16 Sayce 1894; Budge 1925: 31–38. 17 Sayce 1894: 22. 18 Lacouperie 1887, 1888, 1892b, 1894b. 19 Lacouperie 1894a: x. 20 Ibid.: ix. the law of social evolution 51 a story about migration, diffusion, and cultural encounters in which the strong conquered the weak, the powerful ruled the powerless, and the advanced societies dominated the backward ones. And it was this story of cultural diffusion—a process of transferring cultural elements from the more civilized West Asia to the less civilized China—that was the main theme of Lacouperie’s writings. In Western Origin, Lacouperie’s story of cultural diffusion consisted of three parts. In the first part, which was based on a careful comparison of the cuneiform inscriptions in Mesopotamia and the Chinese texts such as Shiji (史記 Records of the Grand Scribe), he traced the migration of the Bak tribe (or baixing 百姓) from West Asia to China around 2300 BCE. Having arrived in China, the Bak tribe established settled communities with walled cities under the leadership of Nakunte, who was known in Chinese texts as Huang Di (黃帝 Yellow Emperor). For a long time, the Bak tribe preserved their own identity until the emperors Yao and Shun, both of whom were offspring of interracial marriages.21 The second part of the story was about the constant flow of cultural artifacts from West Asia to China after the arrival of the Bak tribe. The list of imported cultural artifacts was long, including the syllabaries of Chaldea, the Babylonian system of government, the Assyro-Babylonian mythology, and the Egyptian metallurgy.22 Among them, the most important piece of evidence was the Book of Changes. “The original lists [of the hexagrams] are so much like the so-called syllabaries of Chaldea,” Lacouperie wrote, “that it is impossible not to believe that their authors were acquainted either themselves or by tradition with these syllabaries.”23 The third part of the story was the Bak tribe’s longing for their homeland after they had settled in China. Basing his description on a study of a host of Chinese texts including Mu tianzi zhuan (穆天子傳), Shanhai jing (山海經), Zhuangzi (莊子), Zhushu jinian (竹書紀年), and Huainan zi (淮南子), Lacouperie wrote about a long journey of King Mu of Zhou who, in the tenth century BCE, traveled to a faraway land known as Xi Wang Mu.24 Unlike some scholars who took Xi Wang Mu to mean the deity “Royal Mother of the West,”25 Lacouperie believed that Xi Wang Mu was the name of a kingdom in today’s Xinjiang,

21 Ibid.: 1–14. 22 Ibid.: 15–42. 23 Ibid.: 16. 24 Ibid.: 264–279. 25 For the debate on how to render Xi Wang Mu, see Giles 1905; Francasso 1988. For a recent example of rendering Xi Wang Mu as a female deity, see Cahill 1993. 52 chapter three between Karashar and Kucha.26 For him, the significance of Emperor Mu’s journey lay not in the distance he traveled but in his remembrance of the western origin of his race. “[Xi] Wang Mu,” Lacouperie reiterated, “means the Wang-mu of the west, and this Wang-wu is undoubtedly an attempt at imitating with an appropriate meaning of the foreign name or title of the sovereign referred to.”27 Despite his erudition and coherent argument, Lacouperie met fierce resistance in Europe. Although well received in the circle of Assyriologists, who generally saw Lacouperie’s Sino-Babylonianism as an extension of their special field, many sinologists were skeptical of Lacouperie’s view. Writing for the London-based journal The Academy in the mid-1880s, the accomplished translator James Legge (1815–1897) publicly questioned Lacouperie’s argument. In response, two of Lacouperie’s supporters, Robert Douglas and Charles de Harlez, spoke out in defense of Sino- Babylonianism. And yet Legge steadfastly stood his ground, contending that Lacouperie was wrong in his reading of the Chinese texts.28 In the 1890s, Lacouperie faced an even more formidable challenge when a new generation of sinologists questioned the validity of Sino- Babylonianism. The most vigorous attack came from the Leiden sinologist Gustave Schlegel (1840–1903) who, in 1891, published an article critiquing Sino-Babylonianism in the new journal T’oung Pao. After showing Lacouperie’s errors in facts and methodology, Schlegel concluded, “We cannot follow Prof. de Lacouperie in his method of dissecting the ancient Chinese characters. . . . It is so contrary to the genius of the Chinese graphic system, that no genuine Sinologue can admit his conclusions.”29 In the end, facing mounting criticism and unfavorable responses, Lacouperie found that the publication of Western Origin brought him frustration and humiliation rather than glory and honor.

26 Lacouperie 1894a: 264–268. 27 Ibid.: 278. 28 See the exchanges between Lacouperie, Robert K. Douglas, Charles de Harlez, and James Legge in The Academy, 536 (August 12, 1882): 121–122; 543 (September 30, 1882): 245–246; 544 (October 7, 1882): 264; 744 (August 7, 1886): 91–92; 747 (August 28, 1886): 140; 759 (1886): 348–349. For a summary of the debate, see Girardot 2002: 384–392; Hacker et al. 2002: 231–235. 29 Schlegel 1891: 245; see also Cordier 1893. the law of social evolution 53

Sino-Babylonianism in East Asia

But what happened in Europe did not dictate events in East Asia. Despite the mixed responses in Europe, Sino-Babylonianism received a warm welcome in both Japan and China. In 1900, eight years after the publication of Western Origin, detailed summaries of Lacouperie’s writings appeared in Japan in Shina bunmei shi (支那文明史 History of Chinese civilization), coauthored by two nonacademic historians, Shirakawa Jirō and Kokubu Tanenori.30 Like Lacouperie, the two Japanese authors saw Sino- Babylonianism as an application of recent empirical methods. Although they did not use the term science of history, they shared Lacouperie’s optimism that historians would gain a better understanding of the past if they broadened their scope of study to include material artifacts unearthed by archaeologists, anthropologists, and sociologists.31 For the two Japanese authors, Lacouperie made an important contribution to the study of China by compiling a long list of its debts from West Asia. To prove their point, they summarized Lacouperie’s studies of the migration of the Bak tribe and the Chinese adoption of West Asian cultural artifacts.32 They also devoted a huge section of their book to the Book of Changes, showing how the trigrams and hexagrams were similar to the hieroglyphs in Mesopotamia.33 As in other cultural encounters, the two Japanese authors did not merely summarize Lacouperie’s writings; they reinterpreted, redeployed, and recreated them to address issues in their own country.34 First, despite their deep knowledge of Western scholarship, they did not mention the sinologists’ criticisms of Sino-Babylonianism; instead they presented their argument as if it were the most advanced study of human civilization from Europe.35 This omission, intentional or not, had long-term consequences because Chinese readers relied on the Japanese summary to understand Lacouperie’s view. Without knowing the criticisms of Sino-Babylonianism,

30 According to Ishikawa Yoshirio, Miyake Yonekichi and Kuwabara Jitsuzō first introduced Lacouperie’s theory to Japan in 1894. But it was in 1900 that the best seller Shina bunmei shi made Lacouperie’s theory popular in Japan. See Ishikawa 2003: 22. 31 Shirakawa and Kokubu 1900: preface, 1. 32 Ibid.: 26–44. 33 Ibid.: 45–68. 34 For a discussion of historical debates in Meiji Japan, see Tanaka 1993, 2004. 35 According to Ishikawa Yoshirio, those in the Japanese academic circle were well aware of sinologists’ criticisms of Lacouperie’s theory (see Ishikawa 2003: 22). Yet Shirakawa Jirō and Kokubu Tanenori decided not to mention the criticisms in Shina bunmei shi. 54 chapter three the Chinese readers thought that Lacouperie’s view must have been universally accepted in Europe. Second, in their summary, the two Japanese authors highlighted one important aspect of Lacouperie’s studies. Appearing after a chapter on Chinese mythology, their summary of Sino- Babylonianism demonstrated that the mythological figures in prehistoric China were actually real historical leaders who brought advanced cultural artifacts from Mesopotamia. Certainly, this was a point that Lacouperie stressed throughout his writings, especially in his account of the migration of the Bak tribe. But in their summary, the Japanese authors turned his Sino-Babylonianism into a full-fledged historical validation of Chinese mythology. The intention of the two Japanese authors was particularly clear in their discussion of early Chinese mythical figures. As reported in Sima Qian’s Shiji, there were five mythical rulers (wudi 五帝) in China before the Xia Dynasty.36 But in Sima Qian’s account, it is unclear who those five mythical rulers were and how they were related to one another.37 The two Japanese authors clarified the political genealogy in early China based on Loucouperie’s findings. They identified the Mesopotamian equivalents of the Chinese mythological leaders, such as equating Dungi with Cang Jie (倉頡 the creator of writing), Sargon with Shen Nong (神農 the creator of agriculture), and Nakunte with Huang Di (黃帝 the first ruler of China). Based on these parallels, they were able to assign specific dates to the Chinese mythological figures, thereby tracing the gradual progression of China from a tribal society to an agrarian community.38 The results of this historicization of Chinese mythology were significant. First, the two Japanese authors gave Sino-Babylonianism a broader appeal. In addition to being a proof of China’s link to Mesopotamia, Sino-Babylonianism could now be taken as a validation of early Chinese history. Whether or not there was a migration of the Bak tribe, Sino- Babylonianism could be understood more broadly as a historical perspective on a cross-cultural encounter, showing the invisible and yet vital links between various parts of the globe. Second, in their historicization

36 See “Wudi benji” (五帝本紀 Basic annals of the Five Emperors) in Sima Qian 1959: 1–48. For a translation of the basic annals, see Chavnnes 1967: 25–96; Nienhauser 1994: 1–20. 37 In the 1930s, Miao Fenglin wrote at length to sort out the ambiguity in Sima Qian’s account. After much research and study, Miao complained that there had been so many different genealogies of the Five Emperors that it was almost impossible to figure out who they really were. See Miao 1930, 1933 [1995]: 22–25. 38 Shirakawa and Kokubu 1900: 32–34. the law of social evolution 55 of Chinese mythology, the two Japanese authors showed that there was much to be learned from prehistoric China about human civilization and material progress. Although expressed in stories full of strange plots and wondrous figures, Chinese mythology described events that were as real as those recorded in conventional historical texts. Consequently, the brief and elliptical accounts of prehistoric China, scattering in noncanonic texts such as Mu tianzi zhuan, Shanhai jing, and Zhushu jinian, were now valuable sources of human evolution. In the early 1900s, it was this historicization of mythology, rather than the original text of Lacouperie’s Western Origin, that attracted Chinese scholars to Sino-Babylonianism. For instance, Jiang Zhiyou (蔣智由, 1866– 1929), the first Chinese scholar to introduce Sino-Babylonianism to China, embraced Shirakawa and Kokubu’s view because of its cross-cultural appeal. An editor and a frequent contributor to Xinmin congbao (新民叢報 New people’s miscellany), Jiang Zhiyou summarized Lacouperie’s Sino-Babylonianism in his “Zhongguo renzhong kao” (中國人種考 A study of the origins of the Chinese race), serialized in the journal from 1903 to 1905.39 Jiang’s summary, which was based on Shirakawa and Kokubu’s work, focused on the cultural links between China and Mesopotamia. Similar to Shirakawa and Kokubu, Jiang mentioned in passing the epic of migration and concentrated on the linguistic, institutional, and cultural similarities between China and Mesopotamia.40 As with the two Japanese scholars, he stressed the importance of the Book of Changes in demonstrating the cultural diffusion from Babylon to China.41 To promote Sino-Babylonianism as a history of a cultural encounter, Jiang ended his summary with a discussion of the continuing migration of people from West Asia to China, such as the arrival of the Arabs and Jews in the late imperial period. In the final segment, he concluded that as a hypothesis for understanding early China, Sino-Babylonianism elucidated the cultural links and the human networks that stretched between East and West Asia.42

39 The serialization of “Zhongguo renzhong kao” in Xinmin congbao began in issue no. 35 (August 1903) and continued intermittently until issue no. 60 (January 1905). In citing “Zhongguo renzhong kao,” I use Jiang Zhiyou 1929 that collected and reprinted his various segments printed in Xinmin congbao. It is interesting to note that Sino-Babylonianism was first introduced into China by the reformists, and then it was adopted by the revolutionaries to support an anti-Manchu revolution. 40 Jiang Zhiyou 1929: 26–29. 41 Ibid.: 29–32. 42 Ibid.: 38. Later, in the 1920s, Jiang Zhiyou rejected his own view when writing the article “Zhongguo minzu xi lai bian” (Refuting the [theory of ] the western origin of the Chinese). The article appears as an attachment to Jiang Zhiyou 1929. 56 chapter three

Another early supporter of Sino-Babylonianism was the eminent historical geographer Ding Qian (丁謙, 1843–1919). More so than Jiang Zhiyou, Ding Qian appreciated Sino-Babylonianism for its values in elucidating the history of early China. Applying Sino-Babylonianism to studying Mu tianzi zhuan (穆天子傳s A biography of King Mu)—an obscure text found in a tomb in the third century CE—Ding rendered the text as a historical account of King Mu of Zhou taking a serpentine journey to Mesopotamia in the tenth century BCE. Annotating the text with detailed information from a host of other texts, Ding traced King Mu’s journey inside and outside China. He put emphasis on King Mu’s visit to the faraway kingdom Xi Wang Mu, where he met with the queen of the land also known as Xi Wang Mu. Unlike Lacouperie who thought that the kingdom of Xi Wang Mu was located in Xinjiang, Ding believed that it was in Assyria—the alleged homeland of the Chinese before they migrated to East Asia.43 As for the queen of Xi Wang Mu, he thought she was a symbol of the moon goddess of the Chaldean empire.44 As with Shirakawa and Kokubu, Ding saw the significance of King Mu’s journey not in the distance he traveled, but in his apparent “nostalgic remembrance of the homeland” (si gutu zhisi 思古土之思). His journey, according to Ding, was an attempt to forge a sentimental link to his native land after settling in China.45 Since then, many times in history, the Chinese had traveled to Mesopotamia to pay homage to their native land. This “nostalgic remembrance,” Ding concluded, attested to the fact that the people of China originally migrated from Mesopotamia.46

Making Sense of a Distant Past

Their fervent interest in promoting Sino-Babylonianism notwithstanding, Jiang Zhiyou and Ding Qian succeeded only in introducing Lacouperie’s view to China as a novel historical perspective. It was the Guocui xuebao writers who transformed Sino-Babylonianism into a stunning historical vision that gave meaning to the entire history of early China. Although the Guocui xuebao writers relied on Jiang Zhiyou and Ding Qian for information about Sino-Babylonianism, they were instrumental in making

43 Ding 1915: 1303. 44 Ibid.: 1346–1347. 45 Ibid.: 1303, 1343–1348. 46 Ibid.: 1349–1351. the law of social evolution 57

Sino-Babylonianism part of the fabric of early twentieth-century Chinese historical consciousness. As mentioned earlier, because of the influence from the Japanese scholars, the Guocui xuebao writers viewed Sino-Babylonianism as the most advanced learning from Europe based on empirical scientific studies. For them, Sino-Babylonianism was the key to unlock the mystery of human civilizations, particularly the Chinese civilization. In addition, Sino-Babylonianism explicitly linked China to Mesopotamia—the home of human civilization and the birthplace of agriculture. The link, however tenuous, gave the Guocui xuebao writers much-needed pride after watching their country get repeatedly defeated by Europeans in the last decades of the nineteenth century.47 The link also brought them hope that the present plight of the country would be temporary. If indeed many centuries ago the Chinese had developed an advanced civilization, then it seemed probable that they could build another one in modern times. In addition, Sino-Babylonianism helped to sharpen the racial distinction between the Han and the Manchu. If there was a massive migration from Mesopotamia to China in prehistoric times led by Huang Di, then China should be ruled by Huang Di’s descendants who populated various parts of the country since the beginning of history. Commonly known as the Han race, the descendants of Huang Di must be dissatisfied with the current Qing government, which was an oppressive regime of a foreign race. Seen in this light, Sino-Babylonianism became a call to arms for all descendants of Huang Di to wage a racial war against the Manchus. Given the fact that the descendants of Huang Di were culturally superior, they should be able to topple the Manchu dynasty if they found a way to work together. Of the Guocui xuebao writers, Huang Jie was the first to use Sino- Babylonianism to construct a history of early China. From 1905 to 1907, Huang Jie published segments of his History of the Yellow (Huang shi 黃史) in Guocui xuebao. In History of the Yellow, Huang cited Lacouperie as his source in recounting the Bak tribe’s migration to China. The migration, Huang contended, not only linked China to West Asia, but also made the Chinese (i.e., the Han race) one of the highly civilized races on earth.48 Armed with advanced skills in metallurgy and a sophisticated social system, Huang asserted, the migrants quickly conquered the local tribes and

47 Ishikawa 2003: 19–23. 48 Huang Jie 1905b: 3a. 58 chapter three controlled a large territory.49 This grand founding of the Chinese nation in prehistoric times, Huang suggested, was reported in a variety of ancient texts including Shanhai jing (山海經), Huang Di neijing (皇帝内經), Er ya (爾雅), Liji (禮記), Shangshu (尚書), Zhushu jinian (竹書紀年), and Mu tianzi zhuan (穆天子傳). Despite their different statuses in the classical canon, these texts detailed the Chinese efforts in building an advanced civilization. For Huang, the journey of King Mu of Zhou was particularly revealing. As shown in Mu tianzi zhuan, the Chinese controlled a vast territory at the time of King Mu, which stretched from East to Central Asia.50 Huang concluded that the Han race, with this long and glorious history, was a civilized people who would have splendid achievements in the twentieth century. He wrote, “We [the Bak tribe] traveled from the west to the east, moved past Kunlun Mountains, and settled in the Yellow River valley. Being the descendants of a civilized race, we have lived on this land for four thousand years. To trace the origin of our race, we are closely connected to the peoples west of Kunlun.”51 Whereas Sino-Babylonianism could be used to support racial nationalism, it could also be the basis for critiquing absolute monarchy.52 In the section “Book on Rituals and Customs” (lisu shu 禮俗書), Huang Jie skillfully used Sino-Babylonianism to oppose absolute monarchy. On the surface, the section seemed to be a summary of rituals and customs of the early Chinese. But in actuality, much of Huang’s discussion was directed toward what he described as the practices of the “descendants of a civilized race” (wenming zhiyi 文明之裔). For instance, in the section on “putting an emperor on the throne” (lijun 立君), he argued that in early China, the procedure for selecting a ruler was simple and consulta- tive, not unlike what Montesquieu and Rousseau proposed in eighteenth- century Europe. In contrast, according to Huang, the rigid and secretive Chinese procedure for choosing a leader was a late creation, founded after absolute monarchy had been established in the Han period. With this

49 Ibid.: 5a–6a. 50 Ibid.: 6a–8a. 51 Ibid.: 6a. The original is “吾種人自崐崙東下宅於黃河流域，繁殖四千年，為文明之裔。而當考其種所自出，則與崐崙以西諸族有密切之關係。” 52 In current literature, the discussion of Huang Jie’s work has been focusing on his unabashedly racial prejudice (see Dikötter 1992: 119–120, and Shen 1997). Certainly Huang intended his work to be a history of the yellow race (namely, the Han Chinese) who, he believed, were the true masters of China by virtue of being the descendants of the Yellow Emperor. At the same time, Huang called on the Chinese to oppose absolute monarchy by recovering pre-Qin cultural practices. For him, anti-Manchuism was tied to Sino- Babylonianism as a call to oppose political oppression. the law of social evolution 59

Figure 3.1. A painting of the Yellow Emperor (Huang Di) in Guocui xuebao 3 (1905). The poem on the right tells the story of the Yellow Emperor’s migration from west of the Kunlun Mountains. comparison, he made the point that “the disappearance of the ancient rituals was caused by the rise of absolute monarchy and the separation between the ruler and the ruled.”53 Another example of strict political hierarchy in absolute monarchy was the requirement to “kneel before the emperor” (baigui 拜跪). Huang Jie argued that during the Zhou period when the Chinese were still following the “civilized” practices of their western-originated ancestors, there was no requirement for officials to kneel before the emperor when receiving imperial orders. What the officials did was merely stand in front of the imperial chamber to make a bow to the emperor. According to Huang, the accepted procedure of officials kneeling before the emperor appeared during the Qin dynasty. This change of practice led him to conclude

53 Huang Jie 1905c: 3b. The original is “吾國君權專制而至於上下隔閡也，其失古之禮。” 60 chapter three that “the change of rituals and customs” was due to the rise of absolute monarchy and subsequently the rule of foreign groups.54 While Huang’s description of the alleged “civilized” practices in the pre-Qin period may not be completely accurate, his intention is nevertheless clear. He used Sino-Babylonianism to create an image of an advanced and civilized Han race, whose political philosophy was no different from the Europeans in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

Transition from Tribes to an Agrarian State

Less politically overt and yet equally poignant was Zhang Taiyan’s appropriation of Sino-Babylonianism. In Qiushu (訄書 Book written in oppression, 1904), Zhang did not explicitly tie Sino-Babylonianism to a racial revolution; instead, he used it to give an account of early Chinese society. Drawing from Jiang Zhiyou’s summary and other Japanese writings, Zhang focused on Lacouperie’s comparison of cuneiform writings and the Yijing hexagrams, showing the empirical evidence of a massive migration from Mesopotamia to China.55 To further prove his point, Zhang located the Chinese terms for Chaldea (ge tian 葛天) in the historical texts Lüshi chunqiu (呂氏春秋) and Taiping yulan (太平御覽).56 He equated Dungi with Cang Jie, Sargon with Shen Nong, and Nakunte with Huang Di.57 But unlike the two Japanese writers as well as Jiang Zhiyou and Ding Qian, Zhang used the information to construct a coherent picture of Chinese evolution, detailing the stages of development from the arrival of the West Asians to the beginning of the Zhou dynasty. Zhang Taiyan’s story of Chinese evolution consisted of four stages. First, after arriving from Mesopotamia, the West Asians led by Huang Di defeated the local peoples under Chi You (蚩尤) in Ban Quan (阪泉). The battle determined that the West Asians were the de facto rulers of China.58 Second, as the West Asians moved from the Yellow River valley to the Yangzi River valley, they lost contact with their native land, and yet they preserved their identity by practicing matriarchy, a social system they brought from Mesopotamia.59 Third, after the founding of the Xia dynasty,

54 Ibid.: 5b. The original is “於戯！禮俗之變也，賊於專制而變於異族。” 55 Zhang Taiyan 1984: 170–171. 56 Ibid.: 173. 57 Ibid.: 173–174. 58 Ibid.: 175. 59 Ibid. the law of social evolution 61 the West Asians shunned their cultural roots and adopted the local practice of patriarchy; henceforth, they built a composite political system that included peoples from different tribes and races.60 Fourth, from the Xia to the Zhou dynasties, the West Asians basically considered China their homeland, with no intention of returning to Mesopotamia; the journey of King Mu of Zhou was therefore an exception to the norm.61 From this, it is clear that the main components of Zhang Taiyan’s picture of early China were drawn from Sima Qian’s Shiji. In the “Wudi benji” (五帝紀 Basic annals of the Five Emperors), Sima Qian describes the epic battle between Huang Di and Chi You, the patrilineal genealogy of early rulers from Huang Di to emperors Yao and Shun, and Huang Di’s attempt to build a composite political system to include difference tribes. But Sima Qian’s story of early China gained new meaning when Zhang reinterpreted it in light of Sino-Babylonianism. For Zhang, the migration of West Asians into China in prehistoric times helped to clarify the significance of the battle between Huang Di and Chi You. In Sima Qian’s account, the battle took place simply because Chi You “disobeyed the order of the [Yellow] Emperor” (buyong diming 不用帝命); in response, Huang Di gathered his armies to defeat Chi You.62 In his narrative, Sima Qian neither explained the reason for Chi You’s rebellion, nor discussed Huang Di’s goal in launching the war. In Zhang’s version, however, the battle assumed mon- umental significance. It was not only a rivalry between two tribes, but also a showdown between two peoples of different levels of civilization. On one side, there were migrants from Mesopotamia who possessed the most advanced agricultural technology in the world. On the other side, there were indigenous people who lived from hunting and gathering. In the epic battle, the aborigines were doomed to failure because they could not match the migrants in military technology, political organization, and mass mobilization. For Zhang Taiyan, brutal as it might seem, the battle between Huang Di and Chi You marked a crucial turning point in the evolution of Chinese civilization. Before the battle, China was primitive in its political structure, social system, and economy. After the battle, China was transformed into one of the advanced civilizations in the world. As if to reassure readers that Sino-Babylonianism would help them understand early China

60 Ibid.: 172. 61 Ibid.: 175–177. 62 Sima 1959: 3. 62 chapter three but not undermine their national pride, Zhang reiterated that the cultural diffusion from Mesopotamia only happened once. After the massive migration in prehistoric times, there was no more migration from West Asia, and the migrants gradually planted roots in China. To drive home his point, he parted company with Lacouperie in interpreting the journey of King Mu of Zhou. Unlike Lacouperie, he did not consider the journey as one episode of the longstanding cultural contacts between Mesopotamia and China. Rather, he saw it as an anomaly that proved the complete integration of West Asians in China. In addition to giving new meaning to Huang Di’s victory over Chi You, Zhang Taiyan also used Sino-Babylonianism to explain social changes in early China. In Sima Qian’s account, political power in early China was transmitted from generation to generation through the patrilineal line, beginning with Huang Di to emperors Yao and Shun. But there was ambiguity in Sima Qian’s language when addressing the rulers’ family names. For instance, he referred to Huang Di by his xing (姓 maternal family name), Gongsun (公孫). When discussing other rulers, he referred to them by their shi (氏 paternal family name), such as Shen Nong Shi (神農氏).63 For Zhang Taiyan, this ambiguity in Sima Qian’s language attested to the fact that there was indeed a massive migration from Mesopotamia in prehistoric times. The West Asians practiced matriarchy and they brought their family system to China. As the West Asians gradually planted roots in China, they adopted the local practice of patriarchy. By the Xia dynasty, the transition from matriarchy to patriarchy was complete, indicated by the widespread use of shi to refer to patrilineal lineage.64 Summarized by Deng Shi and Liu Shipei in Guocui xuebao,65 Zhang’s reading of Sima Qian’s account supported Edward Jenks’s theory of social evolution—namely, that human communities developed from hunting and gathering through feudalism to nation-states. In Zhang Taiyan’s account, the law of social evolution was evident in the history of early China. The complex system of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, Zhang contended, was the result of synthesizing indigenous and foreign elements and combining the agricultural technology of West Asia with the

63 Ibid.: 1–3. 64 Zhang 1984: 171. 65 Deng 1905b: 1b; Liu Shipei 1905c: 7a. For a discussion of Liu Shipei’s thought, see Bernal 1976. the law of social evolution 63

Figure 3.2. A painting of the Divine Farmer (Shen Nong) in Guocui xuebao 3 (1905). The poem on the right tells the story of how the Divine Farmer brought agricultural techniques to China. patrilineal family system of East Asia. The synthesis transformed China from a land of hunters and gatherers to a feudal state supervising a complex agrarian economy. In Zhang’s hands, Sino-Babylonianism became a useful means of explaining the process of social evolution.

Recovering the Chinese Essence

Seemingly benign and pedantic, Zhang Taiyan’s interpretation of the history of early China underscored the need to recover the glory of early China. Suggested in Zhang’s account was a China with a large territory, a cohesive political system, a powerful army, and a vibrant economy. For readers of the early 1900s, this account begged the question of why China descended so low in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, falling behind European countries in building a nation-state. If indeed Edward 64 chapter three

Jenks was right in describing the law of social evolution as the transition from hunting and gathering through feudalism to a nation-state, what les- sons would one draw from the history of early China to bring the country into the modern age? Whereas Zhang Taiyan raised the question without providing an answer, Liu Shipei offered concrete suggestions in his accounts of early China. Liu’s accounts appeared in a number of his writings published from 1903 to 1906, including Zhongguo minzu zhi (中國民族史 History of the Chinese nation), Rang shu (攘書 On expelling [the alien rulers]), Guzheng yuanlun (古政原論 The origins of ancient government), Guzheng yuanshi lun (古政原始論 The origins and the development of ancient government), and Zhongguo lishi jiaoke shu (中國歷史教科書 Textbook of Chinese history). Covering a long span of time and a variety of issues, Liu’s accounts of early China were the most comprehensive among the three Guocui xuebao writers. Unlike Huang Jie who focused primarily on the imperial history after 221 BCE, Liu wrote at length about early China, which, he believed, was the “golden age” of Chinese history. Contrary to Zhang Taiyan, who preferred writing short essays, Liu was adept in composing long historical narratives that gave readers a comprehensive view of the past. Above all, Liu differed from the other two in that he used Sino-Babylonianism to ponder the political future of China. For him, Sino-Babylonianism was not only a historical perspective, but also a political vision for twentieth-century China. Of Liu’s writings that drew on Sino-Babylonianism, only Guzheng yuanshi lun (The origins and the development of ancient government) was published in Guocui xuebao. Serialized in Guocui xuebao for five months in 1905, the long article traced the story of the Bak tribe’s migration to China. The story began with the Bak tribe settled in China after winning the decisive battle over Chi You. The migrants, now known as the Han race, used their advanced technology to develop the Chinese economy, transforming it from hunting and gathering to agriculture, and from matriarchy to patriarchy. In turn, the economic restructuring paved the way for the rise of feudalism that became the political structure of China for the following two thousand years.66 For Liu Shipei, the migration of the Han race from Mesopotamia provided an answer to the question of why the political philosophy in the Western Zhou period contained so many contemporary European ideas.

66 Liu Shipei 1997: 664–665. See also Guocui xuebao 4 (1905): zhengpian 政篇, 1b–2b. the law of social evolution 65

Despite the geographical distance and cultural differences, Liu claimed, the Han race and the Europeans shared similar political ideas because both of them originated from Mesopotamia in ancient times. A case in point was the notion of the balance of power. Applying philology to philosophy, he explained the meanings of the characters jun (君 king) and qun (群 people) in the minds of the Western Zhou people.67 For him, the character jun (君) stood for the legislative and administrative powers of a king, as indicated in its two components—a magistrate (yin 尹) and a mouth (kou 口). But even possessing the legislative and administrative powers, a king will not be a full-fledged ruler until he receives the popular support. Hence, for Liu, ultimate political authority lies not with the king but with the people, as symbolized in the character qun (群)—a flock of sheep (yang 羊) following their leader (jun 君).68 Similarly, according to Liu, the other systems in early China—ranging from education and arts to taxation and the military—were egalitarian. They were open to everyone and intended to cultivate a sense of belonging to the community. For Liu, it was this sense of belonging to a community that had been lacking in China after thousands of years of absolute monarchy. When discussing the ancient system of conscription in which every male from age twenty to sixty was enlisted as a soldier, Liu made clear why a recovery of the earlier military practice was so important to twentieth-century China: In ancient times, our ancestors knew the importance of military strength. They included military training in school. As a result, the army was stronger and the military technology was more advanced. Our Five Emperors and Three Kings used military strength to defeat foreign tribes, to defend the territory, and to bring glory to the Chinese nation. In later times, soldiers were separate from the rest of society. They were not part of the “four groups of people” [namely, the literati, the farmers, the artisans, and the merchants]. Consequently, the literati did not have military knowledge and soldiers did not go to school. It has led to our military today being unable to compete [in the global scene].69

67 Liu Shipei 1997: 666–668; see also Guocui xuebao 4 (1905): zhengpian, 4b–7b. 68 Liu Shipei 1997: 667; see also Guocui xuebao 4 (1905): zhengpian, 7a. 69 Liu Shipei 1997: 686; see also Guocui xuebao 12 (1905): zhengpian, 3b. The original is “故古代人盡知兵，習射之典行於學校之中，致兵學日昌，冶鑄兵器之術亦漸次發明。此五帝三王所由能排斥異族，恢廓版圖，以振華夏之聲威。後世以降，兵民分途。而所謂兵者，乃出于四民之外，士不知兵，兵不悅學。此武功所由不競也。” 66 chapter three

Apparently, in his historical account, Liu Shipei focused less on what really happened in early China than on how some of the ancient practices would shed light on the political, social, cultural, and military systems of twentieth-century China. While the accuracy of Liu’s analyses of the early Chinese institutions might be doubtful, his readers could hardly miss his points concerning the balance of power between the rulers and the ruled, the close collaboration between the state and society, and the full participation of the people in public affairs. In his hands, Sino-Babylonianism became a justification for building a modern nation-state in which the interest of the individual was intertwined with the interest of the nation.

The Hierarchy in Time

In the writings of the Guocui xuebao writers, we see both their desire to participate in the global discussion on human origins and their proclivity to use that discussion to address their domestic concerns. This double move—the quest to join the world and the determination to assert Chinese uniqueness—reveals an underlying tension in forming a nation-state. As Prasenjit Duara points out, all nation-states have to confront an aporia of past and present.70 On the one hand, a nation-state has to emphasize its “unprecedented nature” to prove its membership in the global inter-state system; on the other hand, a nation-state has to highlight its intrinsic differences by glorifying “the ancient or eternal character of the nation.”71 This aporia of time was further complicated by the fact that China joined the world system of nation-states at the height of nineteenth-century European imperialism and colonialism.72 When Sino-Babylonianism was first introduced into China in the early 1900s, post-Enlightenment Europe and post–Civil War America were taken to be the standards of modernity in the “hierarchy in temporality.” “Difference in the global system,” Arif Dirlik writes, “was hierarchized in a temporality in which Euro-American economic, political, social, and cultural norms represented the teleologi- cal end of history.”73 Hence, the appropriation of Sino-Babylonianism in Guocui xuebao can be understood as an attempt to accept the global hierarchy in temporality

70 Duara 1995: 27–33. 71 Ibid.: 29. 72 Karl 2002: 3–26. 73 Dirlik 2007: 39–45. the law of social evolution 67 and to subject the “local time” to “world time.”74 Whether glorifying the distant past or philosophizing on Zhou feudalism, the Guocui xuebao writers assumed that they could bolster Han nationalism by linking early China to West Asia—the homeland of human civilizations. For them, the cultural diffusion from West Asia to China would convince the Han Chinese that they were a superior race and that they would be able to build a strong nation-state in modern times. Nevertheless, in mobilizing the Han Chinese to topple the Manchu dynasty, different Guocui xuebao writers adopted different strategies. For Huang Jie, Sino-Babylonianism explained the origin of the Han race and the benefits of having a superior culture in ancient times; but the pride of the Han race rested in their continuous efforts in improving their political system. Seen in this light, Sino-Babylonianism served as an inducement for the Han race to build a strong nation-state in the modern era. For Zhang Taiyan, Sino-Babylonianism helped to clarify the process of social evolution in early China, especially the development of patriarchy and the agrarian state. Understood this way, Sino-Babylonianism affirmed the law of evolution that governed all countries in this world and shed light on what the Chinese could accomplish in modern times. For Liu Shipei, Sino-Babylonianism underscored the commonality between China and Europe, thereby allowing him to speculate on how some European political ideas could be applied to twentieth-century China. Perceived as such, Sino-Babylonianism was a justification for adopting the modern European political system in China, particularly the parliamentary system and the republican government. Prior to the 1911 Revolution, Sino-Babylonianism seemed to be effective in mobilizing the Chinese educated elite. According to Wei Tingsheng (衛挺生), in 1910 many candidates for the Boxer Indemnity Fellowships fervently discussed Sino-Babylonianism outside the examination hall in Beijing.75 The fellowship candidates, many of whom were prepared to go to Europe and the United States for graduate training, took Sino- Babylonianism for granted. For them, the monogenesis of world civilizations lent support to Edward Jenks’s law of social evolution. To be sure, this

74 On the concept of “world time” and its significance in modern European history, see Braudel 1992: 19–20, 71–88. As Arif Dirlik points out, world time is not universal time. While those who are at the center of the world system of commerce and trade live in world time, the majority of people on the periphery of the world system live in their local times and “partake of world time only voyeuristically” (Dirlik 2007: 29–32). 75 Wei Tingsheng 1970: 1. 68 chapter three linear progression of human communities privileged post-Enlightenment Europe and the post–Civil War United States, and leaders of European countries and the United States were not shy in displaying their achievements through organizing world fairs, exhibitions, and prominent cultural and commercial ventures.76 Yet despite the apparent cultural, geographic, and racial biases, many Chinese found the linear progression both revealing and reassuring. It was revealing because it pointed to a distant past of which the Chinese could be proud. It was reassuring because it promised that if the Chinese worked hard enough, one day they would catch up with Europe and the United States.77

76 Greenhalgh 1998; Rydell 1984. 77 For a discussion of how the acceptance of a “simple, normative temporality” helps developing societies to locate their positions in global development, see Harootunian 2000: ix–xxxii. Note that Harry Harootunian calls the acceptance of a simple, normative temporality a “time-lag strategy.” He argues that the strategy sometimes backfires, causing non-Western societies to be “overcome by modernity.” CHAPTER four

The Public Realm1

In the study of early twentieth-century China, Zheng Shiqu (鄭師渠) makes an important contribution by clarifying the meaning of guocui (國粹 national essence). He points out that although the term was a loaned word from the Japanese kuokusui, it had a special meaning for the Guocui xuebao writers.2 Instead of referring to the preservation of a timeless national essence, guocui meant the revival of a particular kind of Chinese cultural heritage that would help integrate China into the global system of trade and transport. Thus, when the Guocui xuebao writers spoke of reviving guocui, they did not mean to turn the clock back to a bygone age, but to move China forward by reviving a select Chinese cultural heritage. For the Guocui xuebao writers, this select Chinese cultural heritage was specific in time and content. Temporally speaking, it was a system of cultural practices developed prior to the formation of the bureaucratic empire under the first emperor of the Qin dynasty in 221 BCE and the establishment of Confucian orthodoxy in the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE). Viewing the Zhou dynasty (1050−256 BCE) as the “Golden Age,” the Guocui xuebao writers considered what had happened in China since the Qin and Han as the “Dark Age.” The “Dark Age” of China, which lasted from 221 BCE to the 1900s, included two elements. One was the centralization of power in the hands of absolute rulers. For the Guocui xuebao writers, two historical events exemplified the oppression of absolute rulers. First was the burning of books and burying of scholars alive during the reign of the first emperor of the Qin dynasty (259–220 BCE). Second was the suppression of the Hundred Schools by Emperor Wu of the Western Han period (156–87 BCE).3 In both cases, absolute rulers employed extreme measures to suppress dissent voices. The other element of the “Dark Age” was the acceleration of the centralization of power when foreign races

1 Part of this chapter is based on my article, “National Essence, National Learning, and Culture: Historical Writings in Guocui xuebao, Xueheng, and Guoxue jikan,” Historiography East and West 1.2 (2003): 242–286. 2 Zheng Shiqu 1997: 111–139. 3 Pan Bo 1905; Deng Shi 1905d. 70 chapter four

(such as the Mongols and the Manchus) ruled China.4 For the Guocui xuebao writers, foreign rulers expanded the system of absolute monarchy to sustain their rule, particularly the Manchu rulers who cleverly used the examination system to recruit men of letters into the government. In so doing, the Manchu rulers strengthened the system of absolute monarchy by appointing loyal bureaucrats to run the government; they also subdued the literati by giving them the false hope of advancing in society through the examination system. Calling the examination system “the expedient route for wealth and power” (li lu zhi tu 利祿之途), the Guocui xuebao writers saw it as a trap to tie the literati to absolute monarchy.5 In contrast to the “Dark Age,” the Guocui xuebao writers regarded the Zhou dynasty as the “Golden Age.” Known in history as a time when leaders of feudal states were politically powerful and men of letters were the custodians of truth, the Zhou dynasty was to the Guocui xuebao writers a historical precedent where local autonomy and independent thinking were valued and protected. To make their point clear, the Guocui xuebao writers focused on the Hundred Schools of the Eastern Zhou period (770–256 BCE), or the xianqin zhuzi (先秦諸子 thinkers of the pre-Qin period).6 For them, the goal of studying the Hundred Schools was not to question the authority of Confucianism. Rather, the study of the Hundred Schools was to prove that there had been a wide variety of intellectual resources in ancient China, and that the educated elite used to be dominant players in political and social discourses. By dividing Chinese history into two parts—the norm and the deviant—the Guocui xuebao writers argued that the revival of the Zhou cultural heritage was not only to recover the “true” Chinese political system but also to bring China into the modern age. For them, the revival of the Zhou cultural heritage involved both the expulsion of foreign rulers and the abolition of the imperial system. As such, the revival of the Zhou cultural heritage directly supported the dual goals of an anti-Manchu revolution—a racial revolution to topple the alien Manchu rulers and a political revolution to abolish the absolute monarchy.7 With the former, the revolution would remove the internal colonizers who had tyrannized China since 1644. With the latter, the revolution would remove a major

4 Huang Jie 1905a: 1b. 5 Deng Shi 1908a: 6a. 6 Deng Shi 1905c. 7 Tang Zhijun 1989: 316–325; Ding and Chen 1995: 341–356. the public realm 71 institutional obstacle that had stopped China from being a free and equal country. Of the Guocui xuebao writers, Huang Jie was the most eloquent in explaining the goals of reviving Zhou learning. In his article “Preface to the Journal of National Essence” (Guocui xuebao xu 國粹學報敍, 1905), he stated that since the third century, the Han Chinese had been repeatedly ruled by foreign dictators, and they were forced to alter their learning to serve absolute monarchs. To drive home his point, Huang described the government of imperial China as “the despotic government of foreigners” (waizu zhuanzhi zhi guoti 外族專制之國體) and its learning as “the despotic learning of foreigners” (waizu zhuanzhi zhi xueshuo 外族專制之學説).8 In additional to internal colonization, Huang also found China under foreign colonization in the nineteenth century. He criticized his contemporaries who, stunned by China’s foreign defeats, wholeheartedly learned from Europe in the 1870s and 1880s and from Japan in the 1890s. In an effort to liberate China from internal and foreign colonization, Huang Jie directed readers’ attention to the ancient learning of the Zhou dynasty when the educated elite had freedom to express their views and criticize the government. To encourage his contemporaries to look back to the past for guidance for the future, he reminded them of the glorious history of the Han Chinese.9 To justify this looking back in order to move ahead, he cited the example of the Italian Renaissance. He pointed out that during the Renaissance (wenxue fuxing 文學復興), Dante used his native tongue, Italian, to compose poems, thereby setting the stage for educational and cultural reforms in Europe. Huang saw the same in twentieth-century China. He envisaged the emergence of a Chinese Dante who would lead China into the modern world by reviving the classical studies.10 Besides Huang Jie, other Guocui xuebao writers also invoked the Renaissance as a metaphor for reviving the Zhou cultural heritage. For instance, Deng Shi made elaborate comparisons between the revival of the Zhou cultural practices and the rediscovery of Greek and Roman literature during the Renaissance. In his article “On Reviving the Ancient Learning” (Guxue fuxing lun 古學復興論, 1905), he coined the term the rebirth of ancient studies (guxue fuxing) to refer to the recovery of

8 Huang Jie 1905a: 2a. 9 Ibid.: 1b. 10 Ibid.: 4b. 72 chapter four the Zhou cultural practices. To make his point, he drew a direct parallel between the Renaissance and the Chinese rebirth of ancient studies. “Just as Europeans underwent their rebirth of ancient studies in the fifteenth century,” he wrote, “the Chinese experienced their rebirth of ancient studies in the twentieth century.”11 To make the comparison look compelling, he took pains to match events in Chinese history with those in European history, making sure that his readers would see a direct correspondence between the Renaissance and the Chinese revival of ancient studies. For example, he compared the Hundred Schools with the Greek philosophers, the burning of books by the first emperor of the Qin dynasty with the destruction of Roman libraries by the Arabs, and the rise of state-supported Confucianism in the Han dynasty with the supremacy of Catholicism during the Middle Ages.12 Through these comparisons, he showed that the history of ancient and medieval Europe offered insights into the development of twentieth-century China. If indeed the key to the Renaissance humanists’ success was their rebirth of ancient studies, which introduced modern science, technology, and industry to Europe, the twentieth- century Chinese would achieve the same results if they began recovering the long lost cultural heritage of the Zhou period.13 For Deng, even though China was behind Europe in development for five hundred years, it could come back from behind if it started its “renaissance” immediately. A similar view is found in the writings of Xu Shouwei (許守微), who once was a critic of Guocui xuebao.14 In his article “On National Essence Not Being a Hindrance to Europeanization” (Lun guocui wuzu yu ouhua 論國粹無阻於歐化, 1905), he argued that there were many ways for the Chinese to become modern. Rather than indiscriminately adopting things from Europe or ouhua (歐化 Europeanization), he suggested that his readers look back to the past to identify the Chinese national essence.15 He admitted that Europe was clearly ahead of China in social evolution, but China could catch up with Europe if it underwent a “revival of ancient learning” (guxue zhi fuxing 古學之復興).16 Like Deng Shi, Xu saw a parallel between the Renaissance and the Chinese revival of ancient learning.

11 Deng Shi 1905e: 1b. 12 Ibid.: 1b–2a. 13 Ibid.: 2b–3b. 14 Xu published his first article “讀國粹學報感言” (Responses after reading Guocui xuebao) in Guocui xuebao no. 6 (1905). After the article, Deng Shi inserted an editor’s note saying that he welcomed critical opinions such as those of Xu. See Xu Shouwei 1905a: 6a. 15 Xu Shouwei 1905b: 1a–1b. 16 Ibid.: 2a. the public realm 73

With the Renaissance, Europeans laid down the foundation for modern Europe by reviving the ancient Greek learning, building libraries, and developing philosophical, legal, and historical studies. Five hundred years later, Xu suggested, the Chinese should do the same in their quest to join the modern age.17 From the writings of Huang Jie, Deng Shi, and Xu Shouwei, it is clear that the Guocui xuebao writers accepted the Eurocentric view of modernity. They took it for granted that modernity not only began in Europe but also was defined by European experience and inventions. They also acknowledged that China was a latecomer in modernity and that it had to catch up with Europe by changing its political, social, and cultural systems. Yet they argued that China’s belated entry into modernity was not caused by its inability to be “enlightened” and “civilized.” Rather, it was caused by internal colonization, autocratic rule, and the stifling of thought. Specifically, they blamed absolute monarchy, the Confucian orthodoxy, and the examination system as the stumbling blocks that prevented China from joining the modern age. They claimed that long ago, during the Zhou period, China had had a decentralized political system, a vibrant intellectual community, a habit of debate, and a culture of tolerance that were similar to post-Enlightenment Europe. Essential to a modern nation- state, these political, social, and cultural elements were unfortunately suppressed by absolute monarchs and foreign rulers who, for centuries, had developed various measures to expand their absolute power. Thus, for the Guocui xuebao writers, the task of bringing China into the modern age became one of removal and recovery. On the one hand, they wanted to remove the political, social, and cultural institutions that supported absolute monarchy. On the other hand, they wanted to recover the Zhou cultural heritage that would transform China into a modern nation- state. For them, removal and recovery were inseparable because the success of one depended on the other.

The Public Realm

But what kind of Zhou cultural heritage did the Guocui xuebao writers want to recover? Why were the Hundred Schools of the Eastern Zhou period so important to them? What was on the Guocui xuebao writers’

17 Ibid.: 2a–2b. 74 chapter four minds when they pushed for the recovery of ancient learning? To answer these questions, we need to turn to Liu Shipei, the Zhou specialist of Guocui xuebao. In a long article titled “The History of Learning at the End of the Zhou [Dynasty]” (Zhoumo xueshu shi 周末學術史, 1905), Liu Shipei gave an account of the various types of learning in the Eastern Zhou period. Serialized for six months in the “Historical Writings” (shipian 史編) section of the journal, Liu’s article examined more than a dozen types of learning that appeared during the Eastern Zhou period, including psy- chology, ethics, logic, sociology, religion, law, mathematics, military studies, education, natural science, philosophy, literature, law, and fine arts. In describing these different types of learning, Liu expanded the scope of Chinese ancient learning far beyond what was prescribed in the conventional fourfold division of scholarship—classics ( jing 經), history (shi 史), philosophy (zi 子), and belles lettres ( ji 集). In addition, he made clear that there was not only a wide variety of intellectual activities during the Eastern Zhou period, but also a close compatibility between those intellectual activities and modern forms of learning. This compatibility led Liu to conclude that China’s modernity relied as much on learning from the West as on reviving the Eastern Zhou cultural practices. He wrote, In Europe, the church used to control education. Since the fifteenth century, as the church lost its influence, the masses [民庶] had the opportunity to control learning. When comparing what had happened in Europe to what we find in the Chinese documents, we find that throughout the Zhou period, the government officials controlled learning. But [during the Eastern Zhou period] after the Zhou capital was moved to the east, the imperial court lost its authority, giving talented scholars outside the government an opportunity to develop their own schools of thought. What they said might not be right; nonetheless they all made distinct contributions in their own right. These were the splendid results of a learning developed from below.18 Like Huang Jie, Deng Shi, and Xu Shouwei, Liu saw a parallel between the Renaissance in Europe and the rebirth of ancient studies in twentieth- century China. But unlike the other three, Liu clearly explained why the rebirth of ancient studies had to be a revival of the Eastern Zhou learning. As suggested in the quotation, Liu had good reasons to regard the Zhou

18 Liu Shipei 1905a: 4b–5a. The original is “昔歐西各邦，學校操於教會。及十五世紀以降，教會濅衰，學術之權始移於民庶。及證之中邦典籍，有周一代，學權操於史官，迨周室東遷，王綱不振，民間才智之士，各本其性之所近，以自成一家言。雖純駁不同，要皆各是其所是，則學興於下之效也。” the public realm 75 period as the “Golden Age” in Chinese history. Known in history as a time when political power was shared by the leaders of feudal states, the Zhou period was a historical precedent of local autonomy and the competition of power. During the Eastern Zhou period especially, as the Zhou imperial court lost its power, the educated elite had the freedom to move from one feudal state to another to look for jobs. Under this fluid political environment, they could speak their minds to attract attention from various feudal lords. For this reason, Liu held the Hundred Schools of the Eastern Zhou in high regard. In them, he found not only a wide variety of intellectual resources that were compatible with modern disciplines, but also a fierce competition of ideas to form a system of nation-states.19 In addition, in explaining the rise of competing schools of thought, Liu Shipei focused on the expansion of the educated elite during the Eastern Zhou period, when scholars in the imperial court passed on their knowledge to the “masses” (minshu 民庶). Certainly, in the context of the 1900s, Liu did not take the “masses” to mean people from all walks of life. What he had in mind were men of letters who either did not have official positions in the Zhou court or did not come from big aristocratic families. Eager to match events in Chinese history with those in European history, Liu compared this Eastern Zhou expansion of the educated elite with the sociopolitical changes in fifteenth-century Europe, when the Catholic Church lost its monopoly in education to secular universities. The comparison might be far-fetched; nonetheless, Liu made his point. He suggested that although separated by centuries, the educated elite in the Eastern Zhou period were part of a drastic social and political change similar to what the Renaissance humanists later experienced. Like the Renaissance humanists, the Hundred Schools thinkers challenged the orthodoxy, dis- credited the central authority, spread culture and knowledge, and above all, expanded the public domain for exchanging ideas and information. More significantly, the comparison of the Hundred Schools thinkers with the Renaissance humanists pointed to what could happen in twentieth-century China. To expand the public realm of the educated elite, Liu believed that there had to be a drastic reduction in government

19 Liu Shipei’s view is by no means baseless. Recently, Victoria Tin-bor Hui has argued that the Eastern Zhou period is comparable to early modern Europe in terms of state making. Basing her argument on Charles Tilly’s theory of state formation, she shows the similarities as well as the differences between the two multistate systems despite the separation of thousands of years. See Hui 2005, especially 1–53. 76 chapter four control over education, assembly, and the means of circulating ideas. Instead of the government controlling learning, it should be the scholars who decide what to learn and how to learn. In Liu’s words, learning had to be “generated from below” (xue xing yu xia 學興於下) rather than controlled from above. At the same time, there must be more opportunities for the lower echelon of the educated class (or minshu 民庶) to receive higher education and to participate in public debates. For Liu, the explosion of intellectual creativity during the Eastern Zhou period was by no means an accident. It was a direct result of knowledge being passed downward from a small number of select scholars in the Zhou court to hundreds and then thousands of scholars outside of the Zhou court. The same should be done in contemporary China to make it a modern nation- state. To prove his point, besides writing a historical account of pre-Qin learning, Liu published a series of articles in Guocui xuebao to discuss the significance of the Hundred Schools, including “The Origins of Ancient Learning” (Guxue qiyuan lun 古學起源論, 1905),20 “On Ancient Learning Originated from the Government” (Guxue chuyu guanshou lun 古學出於官守論, 1906),21 “The True Confucian Teaching” (Kongxue zhen lun 孔學真論, 1906),22 and “The Differences between the Confucians and the Legalists” (Ruxue faxue fenqi lun 儒學法學分歧論, 1907).23 In these articles, Liu showed that as the central authority lost its power, the educated elite increased their influence in political, social, and cultural realms. Supporting Liu’s view, other Guocui xuebao writers such as Deng Shi, Ma Xulun, Lu Shaoming (陸紹明), and Zhang Taiyan also wrote on the competition of ideas during the Eastern Zhou period. Among them, Zhang Taiyan was the most important. In “A Brief Survey of the Learning of Various Thinkers [of the Eastern Zhou]” (Zhuzi xue lüeshuo 諸子學略說, 1906), he distinguished the “independence” (duli 獨立) of the Hundred Schools from the “harmony and compromise” (tiaohe 調和) of scholars in imperial China.24 In the Hundred Schools, Zhang found the daring spirit to challenge the government, the strong will to speak freely in public, and the unwavering commitment to thinking and acting independently. In contrast, he found scholars in imperial China making pragmatic cal- culations to please the rulers in order to garner wealth and power. For Zhang, the drastic differences between these two types of scholars

20 Liu Shipei 1905b. 21 Liu Shipei 1906a. 22 Liu Shipei 1906b. 23 Liu Shipei 1907a. 24 Zhang Taiyan 1906b: 1b. the public realm 77 were due to the establishment of Confucian orthodoxy in the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE). Before then, scholars were free to express their views, establish their own school of thought, and dispute with one another. After the establishment of Confucian orthodoxy in the Han dynasty, scholars were limited to explaining and substantiating the Confucian canon. As a result, the more the scholars wanted to fit their scholarship in the Confucian orthodoxy, the further away they were “from their true concerns” (shi qi ben zhen 失其本真).25 Hence, by repeatedly making reference to the Renaissance and the Hundred Schools, the Guocui xuebao writers expressed their demand for a new sociopolitical order in twentieth-century China. On the one hand, similar to the rise of secular universities in fifteenth-century Europe, the Guocui xuebao writers anticipated a transfer of power in cultural affairs from the central government to the learned community during their times. Particularly, they had high hopes in the founding of the national school system. They believed that they would play a leading role in run- ning the schools, designing the school curriculum, and shaping the hearts and minds of millions of young Chinese. On the other hand, similar to the Hundred Schools, they wanted to claim an autonomous realm that would be free from the control of the government. For them, the history of absolute monarchy in China showed that rulers had been skillful in controlling and manipulating the cultural field to increase their power. To prevent that from happening, the Guocui xuebao writers wanted to have a venue to express their views freely, to assemble at their own initiative, and to challenge the government if they so desired.

Critiquing the Political Control of Culture

To demand an autonomous public realm for debate and dissent, the Guocui xuebao writers stressed the dichotomy between “national learning” (guoxue 國學) and “imperial learning” ( junxue 君學). While the former was fully under the control of the educated elite, the latter was to serve the absolute rulers. During the first three years of Guocui xuebao, from 1905 to 1908 this dichotomy between national learning and imperial learning was the main theme of many articles, expressing the wishes of the Guocui xuebao writers to take control of the cultural field.

25 Ibid.: 1a–1b. 78 chapter four

Of the Guocui xuebao writers, Deng Shi wrote repeatedly on the meaning of “national learning.” Usually appearing at the front of the journal under “Editor’s Notes” (sheshuo 社說), his essays were full of historical references and classical imagery, but they were sharp and clear in deliv- ering political messages. For instance, in his essay “On the True Meaning of National Learning” (Guoxue zhenlun 國學真論, 1907), he made a clear distinction between “national learning” and “imperial learning”: “With great pain and regret, I find that there has been no national learning in China. By national learning, I mean a type of learning that is distinct from what the emperor sponsors. Since the Qin and Han periods, learning in our Divine Continent had been to serve the emperor. [As a result,] there was neither a fervent love of the nation, nor was there a learning that served the nation. Why was that so? [The reason was that scholars] only knew to serve the emperor. They did not know they had to serve the nation.”26 Similar to what Liang Qichao (梁啟超, 1873–1929) had argued in his famous 1902 essay, “The New Historiography” (Xinshixue 新史學), Deng made a categorical distinction between nation and dynasty.27 For the two writers, dynasties might come and go, but the nation was always the basis upon which the Chinese built their collective identity. Whereas a dynasty was the private possession of the imperial family, the nation was the collective enterprise of all people living in the country. While a dynasty made its presence known through the absolute power of the imperial throne, the nation manifested itself in the loyalty and sacrifice of its citizens at critical moments. Despite the fact that Liang Qichao and Deng Shi shared an interest in distinguishing the nation from a dynasty, they employed different strategies in making the distinction. While Liang focused on how history had been written to clarify the distinction between a dynasty and the nation, Deng concentrated on the forms of learning. For Liang, the fundamental difference between a dynasty and the nation was illustrated clearly in the contrast between dynastic history (diwang lishi 帝王歷史) and national history (guoshi 國史). The former was a genealogy of the imperial family, and the latter was a history of the collective whole of the entire country.

26 Deng Shi 1907a: 1a. The original is “痛夫，悲哉！吾中國之無國學也。夫國學者，別乎君學而言之。吾神州之學術，自秦漢以來，一君學之天下而已，無所謂國，無所謂一國之學，何也？知有君不知有國也。” 27 Liang Qichao 1902. For a discussion of Liang’s new historiography, see Xiaobing Tang 1996: 1–79. the public realm 79

In contrast, for Deng, the distinction between a dynasty and the nation was best shown in the difference between national learning and imperial learning. For Deng, imperial learning was for the purpose of lending support to the imperial system, and its goal was to offer legitimacy to absolute rulers. In contrast, national learning was a crystallization of the critical thinking and creative imagination of the educated elite, who articulated the collective identity of the Chinese people based on classical scholarship. Their different strategies notwithstanding, Liang and Deng used the distinction of dynasty and nation to underscore the need to develop “a public spirit” (gong 公) among the Chinese citizens to counter their pur- suit of “private interests” (si 私).28 For Liang, the new national history would be a narrative of the “collective effort” (qunli 群力), “collective wis- dom” (qunzhi 群智), and “collective virtue” (qunde 群德) of the Chinese nation. In his mind, this narrative of the collectivity of the Chinese nation would instill among its readers a desire to “love the collective” (ai qi qun 愛其群) and to “perfect the interest of the collective” (shan qi qun 善其群).29 In the same vein, Deng argued that the goal of national learning was not merely to recover ancient cultural practices, but also to change the mode of thinking of the men of letters. According to Deng, since the establishment of the imperial system in the second century BCE, the men of letters had lost their desire to serve the public. Faithfully serving the emperor, they perpetuated the political hegemony of absolute monarchy in return for wealth and power. As an attempt to call on the men of letters of his times to change their mode of thinking, Deng reminded his readers that what was “useless” (wuyong 無用) was imperial learning or “learning for the imperial court” (zaichao zhi xue 在朝之學), and what was always present but seldom practiced was the learning developed outside of the government, known as national learning.30 To promote critical thinking and the spirit of dissent, Deng did two things. First, he published the titles and abstracts of banned books and censored materials, showing the huge damage that “imperial learning” had done to the cultural field. In his 1907 article, “The Postscripts to the Combined Publication of Four Lists of Banned Books” (Jinshu mulu sizhong heke ba 禁書目錄四種合刻跋), he used the Qing literary inquisition of

28 Cheng I-fan 1976. 29 Liang Qichao 1902: 3. 30 Deng Shi 1907b: 1a; 1908a: 1a. 80 chapter four the Qianlong Emperor as an example to show the extent to which the cultural field was harmed by imperial learning. In order to suppress dissenting voices and to intimidate the educated elite, Deng stated, the Qianlong Emperor ordered the banning and burning of books in a scale exceeding that of the first emperor of the Qin dynasty. In the Qin case, Deng said, the banning and burning of books was confined to government collections, thereby leaving the private libraries untouched. But in the Qing case, the banning and burning of books included both the public and private collections, creating a huge vacuum in scholarship. For this reason, Deng called on his readers to send him information about the banned and censored materials.31 To report on the rediscovery of the lost scholarship, in 1909 he created a special section in Guocui xuebao called “Introducing the Lost Books” (shaojie yishu 紹介遺書), listing hundreds of books that were lost because of the Qing government’s suppression of dissenting views. Deng’s other measure of promoting national learning was to compile the writings of those few lone souls in history who had made sacrifices for the collective interest. Beginning in 1906 and continuing on for over two years, he serialized their writings in Guocui xuebao under the title “The Collected Writings of Those with a Sense of Righteousness” (zhengqi ji 正氣集). Included in these “collected writings” were the prose, poems, and letters of scholar-generals such as Yue Fei (岳飛, 1103–1142) and Wen Tianxiang (文天祥, 1236–1283) who made ultimate sacrifices in fighting against the Mongols at the end of the Southern Song period. Also included were the writings of loyal officials such as Lu Xiufu (陸秀夫, 1237–1279) who drowned himself in the ocean with the Southern Song’s child emperor. With these examples, Deng showed that at critical moments in Chinese history, some members of the educated elite had stood up to sacrifice themselves for the public good. They were, in Deng’s words, “the roosters that roused people up on a windy and rainy day” and “the pine trees that remained green in winter.”32 As China was once again in a critical situation, Deng urged his contemporaries to serve the Chinese nation by using their cultural capital to topple alien rulers and destroy absolute monarchy.

31 Deng Shi 1908b. 32 Deng Shi 1906a: 1a–1b. the public realm 81

The Double Bind of Recovery and Removal

For the Guocui xuebao writers, the terms national essence and national learning had special meanings. Rather than regressive and reactionary,33 national essence and national learning were part of a critique of absolute monarchy and the Confucian orthodoxy. As tools to subvert the internal colonizers and to counter imperialism, the two terms evoked an image of a modern nation-state in which the central and local authorities shared power, the educated elite led the discussion of governance, and citizens were armed with a collective memory of the past. In addition, the ways that the Guocui xuebao writers used the terms show the double bind of recovery and removal. For the Guocui xuebao writers, the goal of recovering the past was to move China forward in time to join the modern age. Their assumption was that China had been, since ancient times, equipped with the resources to join global modernity. Its late entry into modernity was due to long-standing institutional and intellectual barriers that had prevented China from fully developing its inherent potential. Thus, the task of joining modernity had to be twofold—removing the barriers that had stopped inherent potential from fully developing, and recovering the potential and energies that had been suppressed and repressed. On this score, the Renaissance in fifteenth- century Europe provided a concrete example of how China could move forward by selectively recovering its past. With the Renaissance as the baseline, the Guocui xuebao writers matched European historical events with Chinese historical events to show that since ancient times China had been part of the global temporality of evolution and progress. At the same time, emphasizing the root meaning of Renaissance, they wanted to start a “rebirth” of China by reinterpreting ancient texts. For the Guocui xuebao writers, the key issue in the rebirth of China was to identify a particular time in the past that was relevant and meaningful for the present. As discussed earlier, the Guocui xuebao writers’ choice of the Zhou period was deliberate. The Zhou period was selected not because it was part of the revered “Three Dynasties” (sandai 三代) but because it provided historical traces of a decentralized political system and a free public realm for intellectual debates. Seen in this light, the “Zhou period”

33 During the May Fourth New Culture Movement (1915–1925), the cultural iconoclasts criticized the Guocui xuebao writers for protecting the nation’s essence. See Mao Zishui’s criticism of Zhang Taiyan: Mao 1919. 82 chapter four was no longer the Zhou dynasty in history. It was a metaphor for what the Guocui xuebao writers considered to be essential in constructing a modern Chinese nation-state. Signifying political and intellectual pluralism, the “Zhou period” was lifted from its own time and transported to the 1900s as a symbol of modernity. This jump in time should not be seen as merely a strategic tactic to explain modern ideas through classical exegesis and historical interpretation. To the Guocui xuebao writers, there was a direct parallel between the decentralized system in the “Zhou period” and the decentralized system that they wanted to create in twentieth-century China. As shown in Liu Shipei’s and Zhang Taiyan’s interpretations of the Hundred Schools, when the Guocui xuebao writers read the Zhou writings, they did not see them as historical documents but as timeless texts that discussed the conditions of modernity. While they were reading the Zhou texts from the perspective of the 1900s, the texts responded to them by evoking an image of pluralism that was never possible under absolute monarchy and the Confucian orthodoxy. Certainly this “fusion of horizons” was part of their classical learning in preparing for the civil service examinations; but their classical learning was deployed for a different purpose. Rather than to support absolute monarchy, it was to promote a critical spirit and to affirm the right to dissent. In shifting the focus of classical learning, the Guocui xuebao writers made the anti-Manchu revolution relevant to the educated elite. By transforming “the Zhou” into a symbol of political and social pluralism, they linked the dual goals of revolution—a racial revolution to topple the Manchu regime and a political revolution to abolish the absolute monarchy—to the momentous change in the social status of the educated elite. Speaking directly to educated elite who were facing the challenges of the abolition of examinations, the Guocui xuebao writers reassured them that their classical learning would be useful in the postexamination era. In the past, classical learning had been essential for joining officialdom and becoming a member of the local elite; now it would be an effective weapon to demolish the imperial system and to build a nation-state in China. More importantly, through the symbol of “the Zhou,” the Guocui xuebao writers promised the educated elite that they would play a leading role in building a nation- state in China. As citizens (guomin 國民), they would have the right to express their views freely, assemble on their own initiative, and challenge the government if they so desired. As political leaders, they would provide direction and leadership to the new nation where the central and local authorities worked in tandem. In both respects, the educated elite would benefit from supporting an anti-Manchu revolution. Chapter Five

Local Self-Government

Beginning in 1905, as part of the preparation for constitutional monarchy, the Qing government promoted “local self-government” (defang zizhi 地方自治) to improve local administration and to expand the power of the central government. For its model of local self-government, the Qing government pointed to the ancient system of the “village-district” (xiangsui 鄉遂) that was reportedly practiced during the Western Zhou period (1100–771 BCE). For instance, in Yuan Shikai’s Regulations for Local Self- Government (Difang zizhi zhangcheng 地方自治章程, 1907), the village- district system discussed in the ancient classic The Zhou Government (Zhou guan 周官) was cited as the locus classicus for delegating power to local leaders. Yuan suggested that the Qing government revive the Western Zhou system “to let the people help one another and to let nothing be unattended.”1 What Yuan had in mind was a system in which neighbor- hood, precinct, town, county, district, and village would have locally elected officials who would be accountable to both the central government and the residents. Although it is hard to ascertain whether the village-district system really existed during the Western Zhou period, the ancient system served to motivate many local elites to participate in local administration. For example, Zhang Jian (張謇)—who published his calligraphy in Guocui xuebao—made his name by building factories and schools and providing social services in Nantong County, Jiangsu Province. In Achievements of Nineteen Years of Local Self-Government in Nantong (1914), Zhang offered an impressive list of his achievements during the early 1900s, ranging from setting up textile industries and wineries and building kindergartens and primary schools to offering free medical care and funeral services to local residents.2 In addition, as Marianne Bastid and Ernest Schwintzer have shown, respected local leaders like Huang Yanpei (黄炎培, 1878–1965) actively participated in local self-government by forming local educational

1 Yuan 1907: 1a. 2 Zhang Jian 1914. See also Zhang Jian 1931, zizhilu (自治錄). 84 chapter five associations to finance new schools and build a new curriculum.3 Some of these local education associations—most notably the Jiangsu Provincial Education Association (Jiangsu Sheng Jiaoyu Hui 江蘇省教育會)—were so influential in national politics that they became an unofficial forum for demanding local representative government during the final years of the Qing dynasty.4 From the perspective of the Qing government, the goal of promoting local self-government was to develop a sense of collectivity among the Chinese people so that they would view their villages, towns, provinces, and nation as parts of an organic whole. The link between the local and the national could be tangible and intangible, depending on one’s locale. But the point was that this sense of collectivity had to be developed first in one’s native place and then extended to the rest of the country. Cogently summarized by Cheng Meibao as “from loving one’s native place to loving one’s nation” ( you ai xiang er ai guo 由愛鄉而愛國), this sense of collectivity was partly built on the Western notion of the nation-state, and partly stemmed from the Confucian concept of root and branch.5 Central to this late Qing national identity was the Confucian assumption that human emotive ties expand, like concentric circles, from what is near to what is distant. For this reason, it is not surprising to find that during the late Qing, a popular Chinese term for the nation-state was guojia (國家 nation and family), explicitly linking family/lineage to the nation. From the perspective of local elites, however, local self-government was more a delegation of power than a construction of a national identity. To local elites, by promoting local self-government the Qing government signaled a fundamental shift in the regime of power. Rather than power being centralized in the imperial court in Beijing, it was now delegated and dispersed across the country. This shift in the regime of power also signified a change in priorities. Instead of privileging the leadership and coordination in the central government in Beijing, attention was now turned to the flexibility, ingenuity, and spontaneity of local leaders in managing local affairs. Certainly local leaders were required to follow the orders of the central government, but they enjoyed a greater degree of autonomy that had been unprecedented since the beginning of the Qing

3 See Bastid 1988; Schwintzer 1992. 4 See Schwintzer 1992: 132–142; Bailey 1990: 71–112. 5 See Cheng Meibo 2003. local self-government 85 dynasty. For local leaders, local self-government was a rare opportunity to expand their influence in their local districts. To a great extent, these two opposing views of local self-government encapsulated the dilemma of the late Qing government in mobilizing the country. As Philip Kuhn has pointed out, late Qing governance was based on the model of “control-autonomy interaction” in which the central government mobilized the country by delegating power.6 A major goal of this control-autonomy interaction was to effectively activate “local political energy” and channel it into the political structure of the nation-state. To achieve this goal, there were two expected outcomes of this mobilization. First was that members of the local elite were encouraged to actively manage local affairs and to take over much of the local administration at their own expense. The second outcome was that local activism would be linked to national programs such that the central government would have direct control over local affairs without incurring extra costs. In short, the goal of control-autonomy interaction was to create a centralized and unified nation-state without adding any extra financial burden to the Qing government. The crux of the matter was whether the Qing government could manage control-autonomy interaction. The danger was that there was no guarantee once local political energy was activated that it could be safely and smoothly channeled into the political structure of the nation-state. Despite its potential to develop a centralized and unified nation-state, local self- government could undermine the authority of the central government. If allowed to grow out of control, local activism could be a devastating force that could bring down the Qing regime.

The Western Zhou Political System

Throughout his seven years of editing Guocui xuebao, Deng Shi showed a keen interest in local self-government. Despite his anti-Manchu view, he consistently published articles that supported the Qing government’s attempt to develop control-autonomy interaction at the local level. Given the political standpoint of the journal, the published articles, as expected, emphasized the importance of local autonomy more than national unity. By a stroke of genius, Deng found a way to undermine the Qing

6 See Kuhn 1975. 86 chapter five

government by appearing to support its policies. This calculated move not only softened the partisan image of the journal, but also attracted support from readers who, for various reasons, were deeply interested in local self-government. In Guocui xuebao, the articles about local self-government usually appeared in the section called “Political Commentaries” (zhenglun 政論). They ranged from explaining the different branches of the Western Zhou government to the detailed structure of the village-district system as discussed in classical texts. Accompanied by Deng Shi’s sharp comments in the “Editor’s Notes,” this discussion of the Western Zhou political system was not merely a historical investigation of a bygone era, but also a political debate on the structure of the Chinese government in the twentieth century. Underlying this discussion was the assumption that the Western Zhou was the apex of early China. Following Edward Jenks’s scheme of social evolution, the authors took for granted that the Western Zhou was an advanced feudal state managing an efficient agrarian economy. For them, the Western Zhou represented the highest development of China in the feudal age, thereby setting the stage for a transition to a nation-state. Although it turned out that China missed the crucial transition in 221 BCE and was kept in the feudal age for the next two millennia, the foundation was built for the nation-state. Thus, in reading the classical texts, the authors’ goal was to locate elements in the Western Zhou system that were pertinent to building a nation-state in the twentieth century. By looking back to the past, the authors looked forward to the future in which the gap between modern China and modern Europe could be closed. Among the authors of the “Political Commentaries” section, Ma Xulun (馬敍倫, 1885–1970) and Lu Shaoming (陸紹明, dates unknown) were the most vigorous and vivid in spelling out the contemporary relevance of the Western Zhou political institutions. For instance, in an article entitled “A General Survey of Ancient Government by Xiao Tianlu” (Xiao Tianlu guzheng tongzhi 歗天廬古學通志, 1905), Ma Xulun discussed a wide variety of Chinese government agencies in ancient times that were responsible for education, economy, fine arts, law and order, rituals, taxation, and the military.7 The long list of government agencies was to show that in early China, there was a well-established government similar to that in modern Europe. In another article published during the same year, Ma went a step further by highlighting the main characteristics of the

7 Ma 1905b. See also Ma 1905a. local self-government 87

Chinese ancient government.8 Using the Western Zhou political system as a model, Ma underscored the limits of the emperor’s power. Similar to what Liu Shipei did in Guzheng yuanshi lun (古政原始論 The origins and the development of ancient government), Ma employed philology to explain the meaning of the Chinese character for an emperor. By showing how the character for an emperor ( jun 君) was derived from the character for the people (qun 群), he argued that the primary concern of an emperor was to protect the interest of the people.9 To further demonstrate the limits of the emperor’s power, Ma emphasized the checks and balances between the emperor and the various branches of the government such as the legislative (lifa 立法), the executive (xingzheng 行政), and the judiciary (sifa 司法). Outside the government, Ma discussed the notion of “the people’s rights” (minquan 民權) that gave power to the Zhou people to check on the government and to participate in political discussions.10 Like a tripod, Ma concluded, the Western Zhou system was based on a division of power among three parties: the emperor, the officials, and the people. Each party was given enough power to carry out its function, but not too much to overshadow the others.11 Similarly, Lu Shaoming drew a parallel between the Western Zhou political system and the modern nation-state. He paid special attention to the Rites of Zhou (Zhou li 周禮) from which the concept of the village-district (xiangsui 鄉遂) appeared.12 He claimed that although written millennia ago, the Rites of Zhou was directly relevant to the twentieth century. He wrote, “Today, we consider the European political system as the perfect and the most advanced in the world. But if we compare the European system with what is described in the Rites of Zhou, we find that the two systems are similar in many ways. Hence, the political system in ancient China is not as backward as some of us assume. . . . Alas, there is nothing harmful in our ancient political system. What is harmful is our reluctance to put the ancient political system to good use in contemporary times.”13 To prove the contemporary relevance of the Western Zhou political institutions, Lu described the different branches of the Western Zhou government and the responsibilities of various government

8 Ma 1905c. 9 Ibid.: especially Guocui xuebao 9 (1905), zhengpian (政篇): 2b–3b. 10 Ibid.: especially Guocui xuebao 9 (1905), zhengpian (政篇): 5a–8a. 11 Ibid.: especially Guocui xuebao 9 (1905), zhengpian (政篇): 5a–7b. 12 Lu 1906. 13 Ibid.: 5a. The original is “今泰西政術，盡善盡美，及證之周禮一書，無不相合。則神州古政，非不足觀也。. . . 嗚呼！古政何足爲害，不善用古政之足爲害耳。” 88 chapter five

agencies.14 Like Ma Xulun, Lu emphasized not only the specialization and professionalism in the Zhou government, but also the checks and balances among various government branches and agencies. For instance, he pointed out that the ancient text The Zhou Government provided a sophisticated plan for a balanced government. Divided into six depart- ments (Heaven, Earth, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter), the ideal government assigned specialists to manage the bureaucracy, the education system, the social order, the legal system, the economy, and citizens’ affairs.15 As public servants, these specialists were impartial and fair in carrying out their duties, embodying the “public spirit” (gong 公) that made the Western Zhou system so unique.16 If read separately, Ma’s and Lu’s writings would seem to be injecting European political ideas into ancient Chinese texts. In their writings, the leaders in the Western Zhou period appeared to have developed the notions of the separation of power, the checks and balances, and the protection of private interests—notions that were foundational to the liberal tradition of European political philosophy after the Renaissance. In strict chronology, it seemed impossible for the Chinese in the tenth century BCE to have developed the same political philosophy that the Europeans had in the fifteenth century CE. But on the pages of Guocui xuebao, what Ma and Lu found in the ancient Chinese texts made sense. Published in the “Political Commentaries” section, their writings were often preceded by Deng Shi’s call for a “revival of ancient learning” in the “Editor’s Notes,” and followed by Huang Jie’s and Liu Shipei’s accounts of Sino-Babylonianism in the “Historical Writings.” In this arrangement, Ma’s and Lu’s classical studies were part of a larger argument for China’s unique path to modernity. They supported the view that China had already reached the critical juncture for being a nation- state during the Zhou dynasty. They showed that if China had not been stagnant for two millennia, it could have reached the modern age much sooner than other countries in the world. For the classical scholars who read Guocui xuebao, Ma’s and Lu’s writings were even more attractive because they affirmed the value of classical learning after the abolition of civil service examinations. Although classical studies were no longer “the ladder of success” to enter government,

14 Lu 1905b. 15 Lu 1905a. 16 Lu 1905b: 6a. local self-government 89

Ma and Lu showed that a careful reading of classical texts (such as The Zhou Government) was essential to helping China attain modernity. As Lu put it, a thoughtful contemplation of ancient texts revealed the “principle of ruling a nation” (zhifa 治法) that was as much relevant to the Western Zhou as it was to twentieth-century China.17 Whether for political debate or for other purposes, this affirmation of the value of classical learning paid off. After three years of publication, Guocui xuebao established its reputa- tion as a respectable journal promoting classical scholarship. In Guocui xuebao’s last three years (1908–1911), well-known classical scholars such as Jian Chaoliang (簡朝亮, 1851–1933), Wang Kaiyuan (王闓運, 1833–1916), and Sun Yirang (孫詒讓, 1848–1908) frequently published their works in it, making the journal a major forum for classical studies. These classical scholars might not have agreed with Ma’s and Lu’s interpretations of ancient texts, but they shared their interest in looking back to the past to find insights for the future.

Local Self-Government

Despite their common interest in the Western Zhou political system, Ma Xulun and Lu Shaoming did not share the same view on local self-government. Fully aware of its contemporary relevance, both of them paid con- siderable attention to the Western Zhou practice of local self-government, particularly the structure of the Western Zhou local administration and the role of local leaders in governing their districts. Yet they differed on the effectiveness of the Western Zhou arrangement. For Ma, local self-government was merely one of the three types of local administration in ancient China. Along with the “county-district” ( junxian 郡縣) and “military regionalism” ( fanzhen 藩鎮), local self- government was one option for governing a huge country like China.18 While Ma admitted that given the size of China, it was imperative for national leaders to delegate power to local officials, he argued that there was no perfect formula for dividing power. For him, all three forms of local administration were equally effective in their own right, but each of them had its drawbacks due to the way power was divided. Yet he found an important lesson in the three forms of local administration. “Whether it was feudalism or the ‘county-district’ system, problems were bound to

17 Lu 1905a: 10a. 18 Ma 1905c: 8a–10a. 90 chapter five appear when the government deteriorated. Nevertheless, the system [of dividing power between central and local leaders] was needed because the emperor could not rule the country alone. He had to share power with others. Thus, it is clear that the need for dividing power was a result of the expansion of the country’s territory and the growth of the population.”19 Taking a relativist view, Ma supported the division of power between central and local leaders, but he had no preference for a particular form of local administration. To him, all forms of local administration had flaws, including the idealized Western Zhou practice of local self-government. What interested him was the importance of power sharing in governing a huge country like China. In contrast, Lu Shaoming strongly supported the Western Zhou model of local self-government. For him, the Western Zhou system of dividing and subdividing power among kingdoms, counties, districts, villages, clans, and families exemplified a “public spirit” (gong 公).20 By “public,” Lu meant that when power was divided and dispersed among various units of human grouping, political decisions had to be made collectively and collaboratively. Since power was never concentrated in one person or in one group of people, there was a need for negotiation, cooperation, and compromise. Consequently, the goal of politics was not to destroy one’s opponent, but to reach an agreement in which everyone would gain something. And it was this horizontal approach of governance that would nurture a “public spirit” to protect collective interests. With no single political player able to monopolize power, Lu argued, China was indeed “all under heaven” (tianxia 天下)—a place that was collectively governed by its people.21 To highlight the “public spirit” of local self-government, he wrote, “The feudal system [of dividing up power] will lead to a situation where everyone works for the collective good; the ‘county-district’ system will lead to a situation where everyone looks out for one’s private interest. Whereas the former produces sages and virtuous persons, the latter produces thieves and burglars.”22 At issue in Lu’s comparison was the distribution of power. Under feudalism, power was divided and dispersed; in contrast, in the imperial system, power

19 Ibid.: 8a. The original is “封建與郡縣，其未皆有弊。然其治皆因乎天子不能偏治天下，勢必出於分治。是故，分治之始，比由方域之日廣而萌庶之日孳也。” 20 Lu 1905b: 6b. 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid. The original is “封建為公天下之局，郡縣為私天下之局。公天下為聖賢，私天下為盜賊。” local self-government 91 was concentrated in one person. In Lu’s view, the concentration of power would produce corrupt or dishonest officials who were eager to please the superiors by doing their bidding. Worse still, it would lead to dicta- torship in which one person made decisions for everyone. In this sense, Lu found it appropriate to describe the difference between feudalism and the imperial system as the difference between the public (gong) and the private (si). Ma’s and Lu’s different views toward local self-government demonstrate Deng Shi’s thoughtful approach to using Guocui xuebao as a public forum. Rather than taking one view and repeating it numerous times as if it were a dogma, Deng tried to present different perspectives in this political debate. The differences in opinion in the journal might have confused some readers who wanted a coherent standpoint. But the variety of opinions also gave the journal an aura of fairness and openness that, in the long run, invited participation in the debate. Similar to what Lu described as the essence of Western Zhou local self-government, the variety of opinions in Guocui xuebao was emblematic of a “public spirit” that gave each individual the right to express his or her view.

The Village-District System

Their interest in the Western Zhou political system notwithstanding, Ma and Lu did not address the crucial issue of the late Qing political debate. The debate on local self-government focused not only on the division of power between central and local leaders, but also on how to apply the Western Zhou village-district (xiangsui) system in twentieth- century China. Specifically identified by the Qing officials as the model of twentieth-century local administration, the village-district system suppos- edly promoted local participation by creating a sense of collectivity among the Chinese people, linking them from their neighborhoods, precincts, towns, counties, districts, and villages all the way to the nation. Seemingly contradictory, the Qing officials’ goal of promoting the village-district system was to create a unified and centralized government through delegating power to a host of local groupings. The premise of this political move was that by sharing power with local elites, the Qing government could penetrate deeper into Chinese society, far beyond the lowest administrative unit, the county (xian 縣). Thus, the Qing officials’ goal of promoting local self-government was not to give power to local elites. Rather, they wanted to take power from local elites by incorporating them into the 92 chapter five bureaucratic structure of the nation-state. Through reward and punish- ment, supervision and coercion, the Qing officials planned to expand their influence into the lower sectors of Chinese society that they had never reached before. But the question was whether the original village-district system would support centralization or local autonomy. In the pronouncements of the Qing officials, the focus was clearly on centralization. They stressed the effects of the village-district system in strengthening and supplementing the lower levels of government. They also argued that the village-district system would help to create a constitutional monarchy because the system would provide a public forum in the local districts for consultation and an exchange of views.23 In the original text, The Zhou Government, however, the village-district system was part of Western Zhou feudalism in which the Zhou rulers only controlled a few walled cities and the rest of the land was controlled by powerful clans, lineages, and families. As such, Western Zhou feudalism was a decentralized political structure with multiple power holders. Within this decentralized system, power was further divided to give autonomy to small local groupings. Hence, the village-district system in the Western Zhou period was a network of autonomous local units, each equipped with its own government, law, and schools. Under this system, “village” (xiang 鄉) was the highest form of local groupings outside of cities, and “district” (sui 遂) was the highest form of local groupings inside cities. In each system, the small- est unit was five families, and in each unit higher up it was a multiple of five. For instance, in areas outside cities, five families formed a bi (比), five bi formed a lü (閭), five lü formed a zu (族), five zu formed a dang (黨), five dang formed a zhou (州), and five zhou formed a xiang (鄉). In areas inside cities, five families formed a lin (鄰), five lin formed a li (里), five li formed a zan (鄼), five zan formed a bi (鄙), five bi formed a xian (縣), and five xian formed a sui (遂).24 Certainly these numerous local groupings complicated government administration when multiple political players were involved; but they also motivated local people to take charge of their lives. This advantage of the village-district system caught the attention of Liu Shipei. Admitting that the village-district system was not perfect, Liu suggested that dividing

23 Yuan 1907. 24 Of the various writers on the village-district system, Liu Shipei provided the clearest picture of how the system was organized and how the system functioned. See Liu Shipei 1906c. local self-government 93 power among a host of political players locally appeared to be safer, not only because there would be checks and balances among different power holders, but also because the dispersion of power would allow some local areas to remain safe and secure when the whole political system collapsed. He wrote, “When places are governed by local leaders, local needs will be served. Based on this observation, we have a sense of what a perfect local administration should look like. Even during the chaotic times of the Spring and Autumn period [770–476 BC] when wars and lawlessness were rampant in many feudal states, some local areas within the feudal states remained orderly. This fact tells us the effectiveness of the Zhou local administration.”25 As a thinker, Liu Shipei had his moments of anarchism, rejecting all forms of human organization.26 But here, he strongly supported the village-district system on the grounds that it would provide stability in times of chaos. Operating separately within a feudal state, the elaborate networks of small autonomous groups shielded the locals from warfare and destruction when feudal states were at war. Interestingly, despite his explicit support of the village-district system, Liu Shipei viewed the system only as a supplement to central authority. The most important function of the village-district system, Liu said, was to provide law and order when the central authority collapsed. In this regard, Liu’s view of the village-district system did not differ fundamentally from the Qing officials’. Whereas he might have been more broad-minded than they were in seeing the village-district system as a genuine attempt to promote local identity and local autonomy, he separated the village-district system from Western Zhou feudalism. The separation allowed Liu to focus only on the issue of local participation and avoid the troubling question of how the complex networks of power holders in the Western Zhou period would fit the needs of the twentieth century.

Local Autonomy and the System of Nation-States

Liu Shipei’s selective approach to the village-district system revealed a fundamental problem in Deng Shi’s call to “revive ancient learning.” As we recall, the premise of Deng Shi’s call to revive ancient learning was to

25 Liu Shipei 1906c: 4b. The original is “一境有一境之官，即一境有一境之政。彚而觀之，則地方行政制度，可以瞭如。蓋春秋雖為亂世，然禍亂咸起于鄰封，而邦内之治自若也，然後知周代地方官之善矣。” 26 Dirlik 1993: 47–78. 94 chapter five close the gap between China and Europe by restoring the cultural heritage of the Zhou dynasty when China was on its way to becoming the first nation-state in the world. By ending the two millennia of imperial autocracy from the Qin to the Qing, Deng argued, China would catch up with Europe and the United States by building a modern nation-state on the basis of the Zhou heritage. In this sense, the restoration of the Zhou heritage was a revolutionary act that pushed China into the modern age. In one stroke, it completed what had already started in the second century BCE and ushered China into the future as a full-fledged member of the global system of nation-states. As shown in the village-district system, reviving the Zhou cultural heritage was easier said than done. While the village-district system would give local leaders the opportunity to increase their influence in local areas and allow the state to penetrate deeper into the lower sectors of Chinese society, it was part of Zhou feudalism that was disunited and decentralized. From a twentieth-century perspective, the village-district system was good for local mobilization and local participation. For local leaders (such as Zhang Jian and Huang Yanpei), the system would make them powerful players in local and national politics. But Zhou feudalism would be prob- lematic if it were to be applied in the twentieth century. As a complex network of multiple power holders, Zhou feudalism was out of place in the twentieth century when efficiency and standardization were the main criteria for good government. Furthermore, the need for swift results in the global competition for power and wealth made the cumbersome Zhou political structure obsolete. For this reason, Deng Shi was conspicuously silent in the debate over local self-government. Unlike other issues such as national learning, national essence, and Sino-Babylonianism, Deng wrote little on local self-government. Of all of his comments published in the “Editor’s Notes” section, none of them were about local self-government. Nor did he add his “reporter’s comments” ( jizhe shi 記者識) to articles that dealt with the village-district system. Regarding how to revive the Zhou system without the harm of Zhou feudalism, Deng did not have an answer. But in Jiang Shenzhong’s (江慎中) commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu 春秋), we find an attempt to make Zhou feudalism the basis for twentieth-century international relations. Completed in 1898, parts of the commentary were published in Guocui xuebao in 1910. Rather than focusing on the Gongyang (公羊) version of the Spring and Autumn Annals from which Kang Youwei (康有爲) developed his theory local self-government 95 of three ages (disorder, peace, great harmony),27 Jiang Shenzhong focused on the Guliang (穀梁) version. Jiang’s decision revealed his dissatisfaction with Kang’s interpretation of the classic, and in Jiang’s commentary, he made clear his disagreement with Kang’s theory of the three ages.28 Although there is no evidence that Jiang supported Sino-Babylonianism and the argument that China was on its way to becoming a nation-state during the Zhou dynasty, he drew a parallel between Zhou feudalism and the modern system of nation-states. Such a parallel was possible, according to Jiang, because the Spring and Autumn Annals was not a historical text about what had happened in China from the tenth to seventh centuries BCE, but a philosophical treatise about the universal principle (gongli 公理) of political development.29 And Jiang put strong emphasis on the word development because he saw in the Spring and Autumn Annals a clear trajectory of progression from autocracy and aristocracy to a republican government based on equality and the balance of power.30 For him, this tripartite progression coincided with a progression of social structure, moving from a blood-related society based on families and clans to a more rational and efficient society governed by bureaucrats. In the end, Jiang expected that human society would reach “great harmony” (datong 大同)—a term that Kang Youwei also used to describe the highest stage of human progress.31 In the stage of great harmony, Jiang asserted, the world would have many sovereign states, self-governed and self-supported. They would coexist and collaborate with one another through mutual agree- ments. Without a dominant leader or a coercive force, the network of sovereign states would be open, fair, and flexible, allowing its member states to flourish in their own ways.32 Apparently idealistic, Jiang went beyond Ma Xulun, Lu Shaoming, and Liu Shipei in using Western Zhou local self-government for political theo- rization. Rather than treating Western Zhou practices as a means of mass mobilization or an expansion of the power of local elites, Jiang turned the Western Zhou practices into the bedrock of a modern international system. Just as in the Zhou a small unit of five families was treated the

27 For a discussion of Kang Youwei’s theory of three ages, see Hsiao 1975 and Wang Rongzu 2008a: 33–60. 28 Jiang Shenzhong 1910a. 29 Jiang Shenzhong 1910b, especially Guocui xuebao 70 (1910), jingpian: 1a. 30 Ibid.: 8a. 31 Ibid.: 8a. 32 Jiang Shenzhong 1910b, especially Guocui xuebao 71 (1910), jingpian: 2a. 96 chapter five same as a large feudal state, so too in modern times a small sovereign state would enjoy the same rights and opportunities as a bigger country. Just as in the Zhou the political structure was complex and multilayered to serve the multiple power holders, so too in modern times the “universal principle” should be flexible and adaptable to suit the needs of its member states. By creatively making the past serve the present, the Zhou village-district system was no longer a tool of the centralizing state as Liu Shipei and the Qing officials anticipated. Rather, the Zhou village-district system became the model for the global system of nation-states. And in this sense, Zhou feudalism was indeed China’s path to the modern age. Chapter Six

Memories of Resistance

It is widely accepted that Minbao (民報 The people’s tribute)—the official publication of the Revolutionary Alliance (Tongmenghui 同盟會)— played a significant role in the 1911 Revolution. Based in Tokyo, the journal was part of what Wang Jingwei (汪精衛, 1883–1944) called “mobilization by writing” (wenxue guchui 文學鼓吹).1 Its goal was to advocate an anti- Manchu revolution, and its audience was those who opposed the Qing government. From its inaugural issue in November 1905 to its final issue in February 1910, the Minbao writers knew that they wrote to serve partly, if not wholly, the six goals of the journal: to topple the Qing government; to establish a republican government; to establish the state ownership of land; to preserve peace in the world; to promote cooperation between China and Japan; and to explain to the world why China needs a revolution.2 Individual articles may have varied in style or content, but they were consistent in condemning the Manchus for oppressing the Han Chinese. From 1905 to 1907, the Minbao writers were particularly vocal in advocating anti-Manchuism when they debated with the reformers over the need for a revolution. Their victory in that debate is widely regarded as a crucial event leading to the success of the 1911 Revolution.3 Although receiving not as much attention in current scholarship, Guocui xuebao was also an important mouthpiece of the revolutionaries. To mobilize mass support, the writers of Minbao and Guocui xuebao reinterpreted the history of the late Ming and early Qing. Commonly known as the “Ming-Qing transition,” the period extended from the fall of the Ming capital in 1644 to the reigns of the first two Qing emperors, Shunzhi (順治, r. 1644–1661) and Kangxi (康熙, r. 1662–1722).4 For the two groups of writers,

1 See Wang Jingwei 1910. 2 See Hu 1906: 6. 3 Chen Mengjian (陳孟堅) argues that over a decade of its publication, Minbao underwent four different stages. But the most important period was its first three years of publication during which the writers of Minbao and Xinmin congbao (新民叢報) were engaged in an intense debate. See Chen Mengjian 1992: 36–42; 1986: 245–318. See also Zhu Hongyuan 1985: 227–318. 4 For the meaning and significance of the Ming-Qing transition, see Struve 1984: 1–14; 1998: 1–4. 98 chapter six the Ming-Qing transition provided ample material for “mobilization by writing.” First, there were heroic stories of the Ming loyalists during the Southern Ming period (1644–1662) that would rekindle and reinvigorate long-standing anti-Manchu sentiment in the lower Yangzi area. Second, there were atrocities and massacres committed by the Manchus during their conquest of China that showed they were a “barbaric” race. Third, there were harsh policies of suppression in the early Qing that revealed the perils and horrors of autocracy. Fourth, there were large numbers of works and writings banned by the Qing government that demonstrated a continuous stream of suppressed anti-Manchu sentiment among members of the educated elite. Because the Ming-Qing transition evoked so many different meanings, the revolutionaries never had a unified view of the period. For some revolutionaries, the Ming-Qing transition was a moral saga of choosing between being loyal to the Ming or serving an alien dynasty. For others, it was a racial battle between the Han Chinese and the Manchu for their control of China. For yet others, it was a culture war in which many precious writings were lost because of the Qing literary inquisitions. Underlying these different images were the attempts by the two groups of revolutionaries to create a memory of resistance.5 By stressing the conflicts between the Han Chinese and the Manchu, the revolutionaries formed a structure of memory that highlighted the distinction between “Chinese” and “foreigners,” “us” and “them.” Like other structures of memory, the revolutionaries’ views of the Ming-Qing transition were highly selective. For instance, they never dealt with the causes of the fall of the Ming, the question of cultural assimilation in the Chinese race, and the reason why large numbers of the educated elite joined the Qing government. Nevertheless, the revolutionaries’ views were effective in winning support for the revolutionary movement and have continued to shape the Chinese memory of the Ming-Qing transition until this day.

5 Historians are still debating the relationship between history and memory. On one side, Maurice Halbwachs and Pierre Nora consider memory (which is personal, fluid, and evolving) as distinct from history (which is collective, state sponsored, and restrictive). On the other side, Henry Rousso and Alon Confino see memory and history as codepen- dent and mutually reinforcing. In discussing the revolutionaries’ interpretations of the Ming-Qing transition as a structure of memory, I adopt Rousso’s and Confino’s view. In particular, I agree with Rousso that history is “a vector of memory” that helps to shape a collective memory. For details of Rousso’s argument, see Rousso 1991: 1–11; 1998: 1–47. For further discussion of the codependence of history and memory, see Ricoeur 2004: 385–410, and the articles in Confino and Fritzsche 2002. memories of resistance 99

Links between Minbao and Guocui xuebao

Although Minbao and Guocui xuebao were operated differently and intended for different audiences, they were linked in multiple ways. First, they shared a common pool of writers including Zhang Taiyan, Liu Shipei, and Chen Qubing. Among them, Zhang Taiyan was most important. He was the chief editor of Minbao from 1906 to 1908. During the two years, he contributed articles to almost every issue of the journal.6 At the same time, using the pen name Zhang Jiang (章絳), he published a large number of his writings in Guocui xuebao.7 Most of the time, Zhang separated his Minbao writings from his Guocui xuebao writings. In the former, he wrote like a revolutionary leader giving direction to the revolutionary movement, such as the need for a moral commitment to win a revolution. In the latter, he adopted the tone of a classical scholar injecting new meanings into ancient texts. But on one occasion, perhaps pressed by the urgency of the event, he published simultaneously in Minbao and Guocui xuebao to oppose the adoption of Esperanto in China.8 A controversial figure in the 1911 Revolution, Liu Shipei was first a revolutionary and later a supporter of the Qing. Despite his dubious political standpoint, he was a major contributor to Guocui xuebao during its six years of publication. Sometimes published under his pen name Liu Guanghan (劉光漢), Liu’s writings appeared in every issue of the journal, and many of them were long articles that were serialized for months.9 During his stay in Japan (1907–1908), he followed Zhang Taiyan’s footsteps by writing for both Minbao and Guocui xuebao. After he pledged his alle- giance to the Qing in 1908, he continued to write for Guocui xuebao until the 1911 Revolution. Shortly before the revolution, Liu became a major

6 For a list of Zhang Taiyan’s publications in Minbao, see Zhu Hongyuan 1985: 339– 341. From his arrival in Tokyo in 1906 to the folding of the journal in 1910, Zhang’s essays appeared in every issue of Minbao, except for issue eighteen when he was ill. For a discussion of Zhang’s thoughts expressed in his Minbao writings, see Zhu Hongyuan 1984: 14–43; Kenji 1990: 1–84; Chow 1997: 34–52; Wong 1989; Wang Rongzu 2008a: 33–60; and Murthy 2011: 135–168. 7 Some of Zhang’s writings in Guocui xuebao include “Zhuzi xue luèshuo” (諸子學略說), “Xin fangyan” (新方言), “Zhuangzi jiegu” (莊子解詁), “Yuan jing” (原經), “Yuan ru” (原儒), and “Yuan ming” (原名). The last three articles later became part of Zhang’s book Guogu lunheng (國故論衡). 8 See Zhang Taiyan 1908a and 1908b. 9 For a list of Liu Shipei’s writings published in Guocui xuebao, see Wang Yunwu 1974: 157–159, 160–163. Note that in 1905 and 1906, Liu Shipei published articles in Guocui xuebao with the pen name Liu Guanghan. 100 chapter six writer of the journal. His articles appeared more frequently, and sometimes three or four of his articles appeared in the same issue. A specialist in the history of the Ming-Qing transition, Chen Qubing contributed articles to both Minbao and Guocui xuebao.10 He spent a year in Japan in 1903 and returned to China in 1904. Despite being thousands of miles away, he found ways to pass on his writings to the editors of Minbao in Tokyo.11 From 1906 on, he helped edit Guocui xuebao and was in charge of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning. Part of his duty was to collect and publish the writings of late-Ming loyalists ( yimin 遺民), highlighting the long-standing anti-Manchu sentiment among the educated elite.12 The fact that Chen Qubing was able to publish his writings in Tokyo while he was in Shanghai indicates that Minbao and Guocui xuebao were part of a broad associational network. This network spread from the lower Yangzi River valley through the foreign concessions in Shanghai to the congregations of Chinese residents in Japan. The network not only moved people and resources around, but also shared ideas and writings. Two organizations were particularly influential in building this human network. One was the Recovery Society (Guangfu Hui 光復會) led by Tao Chengzhang (陶成章, 1878–1912) and Zhang Taiyan; the other was the Southern Society (Nianshe 南社) led by Chen Qubing and Liu Yazi (柳亞子, 1887–1958).13 A key event that demonstrates the effectiveness of this associational network is the commemoration of two revolutionary martyrs, Qiu Jin (秋瑾, 1875–1907) and Xu Xilin (徐錫麟, 1873–1907). In 1907, as an editor of Guocui xuebao, Chen Qubing joined Liu Yazi in mourning the death of the two Recovery Society members after their unsuccessful uprising in Anqing. At one point, Chen planned to hold a public memorial in Shanghai but had to drop the plan after the Qing government intervened.14 Although no public memorial ever took place, Chen managed to hold a sort of memorial on the pages of Minbao. In issue number seventeen (October 1907) of the journal, three pieces of writing were published in honor of the two martyrs—one commemorating Xu Xilin, the other commemorating Qiu Jin, and the third a collection of Qiu’s poems. In the following issue

10 For a biography of Chen Qubing, see Liu Wuji and Yin Anru Ming 2002: 314–320. 11 For a list of Chen Qubing’s publications in Minbao, see Zhu Hongyuan 1985: 349. 12 See Chen Qubing 1907–1908; 1907–1909. 13 For a list of Minbao and Guocui xuebao writers who joined the Southern Society, see Yang and Wang 1995: 39 & 47. For a study of the influence of the members of the Recovery Society on Minbao, see Zhu Hongyuan 1985: 25–32, 227–318. 14 Yang and Wang 1995: 83–86, 101–103. memories of resistance 101

(number eighteen, December 1907), Minbao continued to commemorate the two martyrs by publishing a biography of Xu Xilin penned by Chen Qubing.15 Although not a single word was said about who initiated this honoring of the martyrs or who supplied the commemorative materials to Minbao, it is clear that Chen Qubing played a crucial role in putting these commemorative writings together from thousands of miles away.

The Motif of Racial War

Despite these intricate human and organizational connections, the writers of Minbao and Guocui xuebao adopted different strategies for presenting the history of the Ming-Qing transition. To suit the purposes of the journals and to reach their respective audiences, the same writer would write in a different style and focus on different historical events. For the Minbao writers, they were forthright in promoting a racial war against the Manchus. They knew that the Qing officials could do little to suppress their writings because they were published abroad. They also knew that an effective way to mobilize the masses was to stir up their hatred of the Manchus. For these reasons, they were overt and explicit in using history to promote a racial war against the Manchu rulers. On the pages of Minbao, the motif of racial war was presented in two ways. First was the history of the Jianzhou garrison ( jianzhou wei 建州衛). As part of the Manchu homeland, the status of the Jianzhou garrison was ambiguous as were many other areas on the Ming border. On the one hand, there were clearly some sort of relationships between the commanders of the garrison and the Ming court. The garrison commanders regularly visited the Ming capital to report on their duties, and they met with the Ming emperors to receive official titles. On the other hand, the commanders seemed to have complete control of the garrison, and occasionally they attacked the Ming border posts.16 The biggest attack was the one led by Nurgaci in the 1610s and 1620s that set the stage for the Manchu conquest of China. In discussing the history of the Jianzhou garrison, the Minbao writers were not interested in the constructive ambiguity of the Ming’s management of its borders, or the fluidity and flexibility of

15 Chen Qubing 1907a. 16 For the history of the early Manchus and the Jianzhou garrison, see Crossley 1999: 57–128. 102 chapter six

marking boundaries in ancient times. Rather, they saw the Jianzhou garrison as an example of racial conflict in the borderland. What drove the Minbao writers to adopt such a view was their heated debate with the constitutionalists from 1905 to 1908. To counter the constitutionalists’ argument that no revolution was necessary because both the Han and the Manchu belonged to the composite Chinese race, the Minbao writers used the Jianzhou garrison to show Han-Manchu racial conflicts. Leading the charge was Liu Shipei, who published an article in 1907 explaining why the Manchus were an alien race.17 Central to his argument was the location of the Jianzhou garrison, which he claimed was “far beyond Liaodong” ( yuan zai liandong bian wai 遠在遼東邊外), the traditional boundary of the Ming. Because the Jianzhou garrison was outside of the Ming boundary, he asserted, the Ming government must have considered the Manchus to be “foreign barbarians” (wai yi 外夷) or even “a hostile kingdom” (diguo 敵國).18 To support his argument, Liu quoted official Ming documents in which the Jianzhou garrison was referred to as “a garrison for appeasement” ( jimi wei 羈縻衛) to tie down the hostile enemies.19 While Liu Shipei might have had a good argument, he did not provide concrete evidence to show the location of the Jianzhou garrison. To lend support to Liu, Tao Chengzhang published a long article in 1908 detailing the historical sources of the Jianzhou garrison.20 In the article, he pin- pointed two historical documents that purportedly showed the exact location of the Jianzhou garrison: Zheng Xiao’s (鄭曉, 1499–1566) Huang Ming siyi kao (皇明四夷考 Studies of the barbarians on the Ming border) and Zheng Dundian’s (鄭惇典) Huayi zonglan (華夷總覽 An anthology on the Chinese and the barbarians). In the latter, he said, there were maps indicating that the Jianzhou garrison was actually a separate kingdom on the Ming border.21 For both Liu Shipei and Tao Chengzhang, finding the location of the Jianzhou garrison was only the first step in creating a narrative of racial war. Immediately following the discussion of the Jianzhou garrison, they turned their attention to the Manchu oppression. They took pains to describe how the Qing rulers kept their Manchu blood pure by forbidding

17 See Liu Shipei 1907b. 18 Liu Shipei 1907b, particularly Minbao 14 (1907): 39–40. 19 Ibid.: 96–111. 20 Tao 1908: 1–21. 21 Ibid.: 1–6. memories of resistance 103 intermarriage and Han migration to the northeast. For Liu and Tao, these two facts—the Manchu as a foreign race in the Ming period and the Qing policies of racial segregation—reinforced each other. When combined, they showed that there had been a continuing racial war between the Chinese and Manchu for hundreds of years, starting with border conflicts during the late Ming and expanding into wholesale racial oppression after the founding of the Qing dynasty. For instance, in his 1908 article, Tao Chengzhang drove home this point with spectacular clarity and potency. Linking the Jianzhou garrison to the Qing racial policies, he wrote, From the former [i.e., the issue of the Jianzhou garrison], we know that the area controlled by the Manchus was not part of the Ming territory, and for a long time they governed themselves as an independent kingdom. Hence, it is wrong to say that they replaced the Ming in ruling China. From the latter [i.e., the sharp racial rules of the Qing rulers], we know that the Manchus never assimilated after ruling China. Hence, it is wrong to compare them to the historical event of Emperor Shun in the east being replaced by King Wen in the west.22 By emphasizing the long-standing racial war between the Han Chinese and the Manchu, Tao not only neutralized the reformists’ argument for a composite Chinese race, but also gave additional meaning to the revolution against the Qing. The revolution, he argued, was more than a revenge against brutal rulers; it was, in essence, a recovery of the lost country, the Ming. Similarly, Chen Qubing and Liu Yazi stressed the theme of recovering the lost country. For Chen Qubing, the best way to convey this message was through a poetic representation of the last moment of the Yongli (永曆) emperor’s life. Because the Yongli emperor was the last ruler of the Southern Ming, his death in 1662 signified the end of the Ming loyalists’ attempt to resuscitate the crumbled dynasty. In his final years, the Yongli emperor had suffered a number of setbacks, leading to his retreat from southwest China to Burma. His death, or more accurately his execution, was not heroic at all. It was ordered by the Burmese king and carried out in haste to please the encroaching Manchu army.23 Despite the unin- viting circumstances in which the Yongli emperor ended his life, Chen

22 Ibid.: 5–6. The original is “明于前說，則滿洲非前明屬土，久與明代並立為國家，不得謂滿洲代明而起。明于後說，則滿洲之于漢族未嘗與之同化，不得以舜東夷，文王西夷相擬。” 23 For detailed information on the death of the Yongli emperor, see Struve 1984: 167– 195. 104 chapter six

Qubing found ways to glorify his death. Using the expressive language and poetic metaphors commonly found in popular novels, Chen described the death of the Yongli emperor as “dying for the country” (xun guo 殉國) and marked it as the beginning of the “slavery of the cows and horses” (nuli niuma 奴隸牛馬) of the Han Chinese.24 To end his piece with an uplifting conclusion, he told readers that the spirit of the Yongli emperor would bless those who rose up against the Qing. Linking the past to the present, he cited recent reports of the uprisings of the revolutionary army in Yunnan where the Yongli emperor once ruled, and he was sure that the spirit of the Yongli emperor must be guiding the revolutionary army to recover his homeland. He wrote, “At this time while our national army is attacking Yunnan, they must be seeing colorful shapes and feathered blossoms in the heavens. They must be guided by [the spirit of the Yongli emperor] and motivated to kill the enemies.”25 In the same vein, Liu Yazi used a sensational technique in his article “Battles between the Ming and the Qing” (Mingqing zhantan 明清戰譚).26 In the article, he created characters who were members of the Ming royal family. As the story goes, the main characters hide in Sichuan after the Manchu conquest. Secretly they continue the Ming royal bloodline and skillfully organize attacks against the Manchu garrisons. Finally, with good strategy and strong support, one of the royal descendants starts a major uprising in Guangxi. He defeats the Qing, restores the Ming, and begins a new reign. To underscore the happy ending, Liu wrote, “After hiding for more than two hundred years, the descendant of the Ming royal family Zhu Hua (aka Yuan Hua) starts a military uprising in Guangxi. Blessed by the heavens, he continuously wins battles. He restores the great Ming [dynasty], changes the policies and customs of the Manchu. He starts a new reign called ‘Heavenly Virtue,’ and calls himself the Emperor of Heavenly Virtue of the Later Ming.”27 The story, of course, was fictive; but its message was clear. It reassured its readers that the ongoing racial war between the Han Chinese and the Manchu would one day turn in favor of the Han Chinese. For readers who were familiar with popular fiction such as The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The Water Margins, Liu’s

24 Chen Qubing 1908: 7–8. 25 Ibid. The original is “而我今國民軍政府之進攻雲南者，當共見有彩幢羽葆立雲中，指麾而益鼓動振奮以殺賊也必矣。” 26 Liu Yazi 1908. 27 Ibid.: 43. The original is “藏之民間，傳二百餘年，至其裔孫朱名華字元璍者，竟起兵于廣西，天命歸附，所向無敵，遂恢復大明，改滿清朝之制度風俗，建年號曰天德，稱後明天德帝。” memories of resistance 105 article was particularly attractive. First, it had a plot full of action, fighting scenes, and unexpected outcomes. Second, it included themes that were edifying such as loyalty, perseverance, revenge, and redemption. Above all, it promised a happy ending, pointing toward the revival of the Ming that would solve all Chinese problems from the last three hundred years.

The Motif of Ming Loyalism

By contrast, the essays in Guocui xuebao were subtle and sophisticated. To promote anti-Manchuism, the Guocui xuebao writers wrote volumi- nously on the heroism of Ming loyalists. For them, the Ming loyalists were prime examples of self-sacrificing educated elites who gave up every thing to save their country. To promote the heroism of the Ming loyalists, the Guocui xuebao writers began by summarizing the writings of early Qing scholars—including Huang Zongxi (黃宗羲, 1610–1695), Gu Yanwu (顧炎武, 1613–1682), Quan Zuwang (全祖望, 1705–1755), Wang Fuzhi (王夫之, 1619–1692), and Yan Yuan (顏元, 1635–1704)—who refused to serve in the Qing government.28 Then later, under the leadership of Chen Qubing, they launched a massive project of collecting the biographical information on the Ming loyalists. Known as “Records of the Ming Loyalists” (Ming yimin lu 明遺民錄), the goal of the project was to demonstrate that since the founding of the Qing, there had been widespread loyalty to the Ming throughout China. To justify its scope, Chen Qubing made clear that there were many ways to express loyalty to the Ming. Some people, especially the Ming officials, expressed their loyalty by dying in battles or prison. Others, particularly the educated elite, expressed their loyalty by refusing to serve in the Qing government.29 The members of the last group, Chen stressed, were even more admirable. Although they received frequent invitations to join the Qing government and possessed the skills to pass the reinstated civil service examinations, they chose to hide in the mountains as Buddhist monks and Daoist priests, or spend their lives in remote areas as poor farmers and impoverished laborers.30 To drive home his point, Chen Qubing went so far as to claim that the Ming loyalists were morally superior to the Song loyalists of the thir- teenth century. The Song loyalists, he said, had no incentive to join the

28 See Deng Shi 1905f, 1906b; Liu Shipei 1905d. 29 Chen Qubing 1907b: 1a. 30 Ibid.: 1b. 106 chapter six government because the Mongols suppressed Confucian learning and dis- criminated against the Han Chinese. Therefore the Song loyalists had little choice but to hide in the mountains. In contrast, the Ming loyalists were given plenty of opportunities, sometimes even great rewards, to join the Qing government. For this reason, Chen concluded, the Ming loyalists had to make bigger sacrifices in order to remain loyal to the Ming.31 To honor them, Chen did not use the Qing reigns to record the events of the Ming loyalists. Rather, he used the late Ming calendar, showing that at least in their minds, the Ming loyalists were living in Ming time. For events after 1662 (the death of the Yongli emperor in Burma), he recorded them in accordance with the jiazi (甲子) sexagenary calendar, showing the Ming loyalists’ refusal to recognize the legitimacy of the Qing dynasty. As revolutionary propaganda, “Records of the Ming Loyalists” underscored the fact that the early Qing government was not as strong as it appeared. Organized by areas, “Records of the Ming Loyalists” presented a variety of groups of loyalists in different parts of China. The narrative began in Beijing, the former Ming capital, and then extended to north and northeastern China, and subsequently south and southwestern China.32 By presenting the Ming loyalists geographically, Chen Qubing made clear that Ming loyalism was never confined to one region (such as the lower Yangzi River) but existed across China. Everywhere in the country—be it in crowded urban cities or in remote rural towns, in the mountains or on the coast, at home or in the street—there were Ming loyalists doing every- thing they could to oppose the Qing government. For this reason, Chen Qubing insisted that “Records of the Ming Loyalists” include not only the biographies of the educated and the officials, but also the biographies of hermits, peasants, Buddhist monks, and Daoist priests who refused to serve the Qing government.33 From today’s perspective, Chen Qubing’s picture of Ming loyalism is one-sided. It excludes large numbers of late-Ming officials who volun- tarily joined the Qing government, and it does not address the dilemma of many early Qing scholars who had to choose between supporting their families (xiao 孝) and remaining loyal to the fallen dynasty (zhong 忠). Furthermore, it suppresses one important historical fact: the success of the early Qing government in winning support from the majority of the

31 Ibid.: 1b–2a. 32 Ibid.: 2a. 33 Ibid.: 2b. memories of resistance 107 educated elite.34 Yet in the 1900s, “Records of the Ming Loyalists” gave its readers a new perspective on the Ming-Qing transition. Rather than presenting the Ming-Qing transition as a change in political power, “Records of the Ming Loyalists” made it look like a moral struggle that was continuing on to the twentieth century. In the stories of ordinary people who fought their moral battles in their own ways, “Records of the Ming Loyalists” gave the impression that the Ming-Qing transition would never end as long as there were still people willing to fight. More importantly, it gave hope that if the Ming loyalists hiding in various parts of China were connected and organized, they would be able to form a formidable force to challenge the Qing government. Contemporaneous with the collection of biographical information on the Ming loyalists was another massive project started by the Guocui xuebao writers in which they collected the banned writings of the early Qing. Beginning with the first issue of the journal, Deng Shi repeatedly called on his readers to offer information about books that were banned or burned by the Qianlong emperor. For Deng, there were two reasons to recover the banned or burned books. First, it revealed the disastrous results of the Qing literary inquisitions on the cultural life of the Han Chinese. To drive home his point, Deng once compared the Qing literary inquisitions to the book burning of the first emperor of the Qin dynasty, drawing attention to the loss of tens of thousands of precious works and writings due to the Qing policies.35 Second, the call for books was to recover the history of the Ming-Qing transition. Because many books that were banned or burned were about the late Ming and early Qing, Deng argued that there was no way to have a full understanding of that period without recovering the lost materials.36 Thus, in every issue of Guocui xuebao from 1908 to 1911, information about lost writings was provided in the sections “Miscellaneous Talks” (congtan 叢談), “Excerpts of Writings” (zhuanlu 撰錄), or “Summaries of Collected Books” (cangshu zhi 藏書志). The bibliographical information might be sketchy and disorganized because Deng only provided brief notes on the lost writings and short excerpts from the recovered materials. But as a whole, the information offered a complex view of the Ming-Qing

34 For a revisionist view of Ming loyalism, see Li Xuan 2005. 35 Deng 1908c. 36 See “Guoxue baocun hui cangshu zhi 國學保存會藏書志 (Collection of Books at the Association for the Preservation of National Learning,” Guocui xuebao 38 (1908), 1a–6b; 39 (1908), cangshuzhi: 1a–7b. 108 chapter six

transition. Like “Records of the Ming Loyalists,” it showed that the Ming- Qing transition was more a moral struggle than a change in political power. It also showed that the early Qing government did not have full control of the cultural field and, therefore, had to employ extreme measures to subdue the educated elite. Above all, it demonstrated that culture was an effective weapon against alien rulers and that the educated elite must play an active role in leading resistance in the cultural field. All in all, the Guocui xuebao writers saw the Ming-Qing transition as a living event. For them, the Ming-Qing transition started a long racial war between the Han Chinese and the Manchu that continued on until their time. The racial war was first fought in the battlefields; it was later turned into a long moral struggle that lasted for three hundred years. Being forced to choose between remaining loyal to the Ming or serving the Qing, the Guocui xuebao writers argue, large numbers of scholars lost their lives, found their precious writings banned, and suffered from tarnished reputa- tions. These two motifs of racial war and moral struggle shared a similar structure. Both stressed the horrific results of the fall of the Ming and the paramount importance in recovering the lost country. Both highlighted the implicit and explicit links between events in the seventeenth century and events in the twentieth century. Both left out events in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to make the saga of resistance look coherent and convincing. Most importantly, both provided a framework by which to remember the past as a continuous struggle against alien rulers.37

Readers’ Participation

In addition to creating a memory of resistance, the editors of Guocui xuebao also made the Ming-Qing transition a living past by constantly invit- ing readers to participate in research on the period. This call on readers

37 Despite the drastic change in domestic and international politics, the revolutionaries’ views of the Ming-Qing transition remained dominant throughout the Republican period. Take, for instance, Xiao Yishan’s (蕭一山) Qingdai tongshi (清代通史 A general history of the Qing period). When its first volume was published in 1923, it was lauded as a major breakthrough in the study of Qing history. But upon closer inspection, Xiao’s main argument was remarkably similar to the revolutionaries’. Like Chen Qubing, Liu Yazi, and Tao Chengzhang, Xiao viewed the previous three hundred years as a long saga of rising Han nationalism. The case of Xiao Yishan shows that as long as there was a need for mass mobilization—whether to defend the country or to build the nation—the revolutionaries’ interpretation of the Ming-Qing transition would be useful to connect the past to the present. memories of resistance 109 to participate in research dated back to the inaugural issue of the journal in 1905. In an article explaining the purpose of Guocui xuebao, the editors of the journal made it clear that readers were always welcome to submit articles to the journal or to correct mistakes in published articles. The journal, they said, was a vehicle for “public discussion and learning” ( jiangxi shixue 講習實學) by initiating dialogue among scholars.38 To make their point, in issue six of the journal the editors published an article by a reader, Xu Shouwei, who criticized the journal for advocating a limited notion of national learning. To highlight their sincerity in listening to readers, the editors printed Xu’s article in the “Editor’s Notes” section, giving it the most prominent position in the journal. Furthermore, at the end of the article, a note was attached pointing out that even though Xu did not completely share the views of the journal editors, his article was published without alteration, for “the great fairness of learning” (xueshu zhi dagong 學術之大公).39 In the note, the editors wrote, “Even among the journal writers, we have different views due to our trainings and perspectives. Consequently some readers develop doubts when they find different views being expressed in our writings. But at a time when we have the freedom of expression and the autonomy of scholarship, we must not force everyone to share the same view. We hope our learned readers will take our position seriously.”40 As chief editor, Deng Shi repeatedly reminded readers that their parti cipation in finding new materials was crucial to the success of the journal, particularly in regard to the collection of biographical information of the Ming loyalists and the recovery of the lost texts from the Qing inquisitions. In his ubiquitous comments in the “Editor’s Notes” and “Reporter’s Comments” sections, he described the arduous process in which a biography or a text was pieced together after readers sent him information from different parts of the country. In many instances, he published readers’ notes that detailed their attempts at tracking down information or copy- ing the originals by hand. For instance, in 1908, Deng asked readers to look for a complete version of a text, Huang Ming jingshi pian (皇明經世篇 Writings on the political events in the Ming dynasty), which detailed

38 “Fakanci 發刊詞,” Guocui xuebao 1 (1905): 2b. 39 Xu Shouwei 1905a: editors’ note. 40 Ibid. The original is “又本社撰述諸子，其學識各有所見，不能強同。故撰述中彼此論著，間有異同之處，致動閱者疑問。然今正濟言論自由，學術獨立之時代，勢不能束縛牽合，使歸一轍。好學博覽之君子，當深思而自得之。” 110 chapter six the history of a late-Ming resistance group called the Society of Potency (Jishe 幾社). Donated by Liu Guanghan [Liu Shipei], we have a copy of Huang Ming jingshi pian in our library [at the Association for the Preservation of National Learning]. But the copy is missing seven chapters (Chapters 23, 24, 343, 344, 345, 361, and 362). Collectors who have a copy of the book, please copy the missing chapters and send the copied chapters to me, so that we will have a complete version [at the Association for the Preservation of National Learning]. It would be beneficial for generations to come if we could have a complete version to examine the Ming political institutions.41 These efforts to mobilize readers to collect information were not only a marketing strategy to sell more copies of the journal. They were also part of the editors’ plan to turn Guocui xuebao into a public forum of the educated elite. By constantly involving the readers, the editors transformed Guocui xuebao from a repository of information into a public space where readers could interact, exchange ideas, or form a partnership in research. In this way, just as the Association for the Preservation of National Learning was a physical site for scholars to gather to discuss scholarship in the foreign concessions in Shanghai, so too Guocui xuebao was the intellectual site for scholars to gather to discuss scholarship on the printed pages of the journal. Unlike the physical site, which was fixed in a geographical location and limited to people who lived in or close to Shanghai, the intellectual site traveled from place to place as the journal was passed from reader to reader along the sprawling shipping and railroad lines.42 In this sense, the intellectual site of Guocui xuebao became what Henri Lefebvre calls “the space of representation” where the literati-cum-intellectuals made their claim for power in the new cultural field of production.43

41 Deng 1908d: 3a. The original is 《皇明經世篇》本會藏書樓庋存一部“ ，為劉君光漢所捐，惟内亦缺七卷 (23卷、24 卷、343卷、344 卷、345 卷、361 卷、362 卷)。海内藏書家苟有是書，望補抄見寄，俾此神州巨帙完存天壤，有明一代典章制度以考見，亦不朽之盛事業。” 42 The readers of Guocui xuebao were not limited to coastal cities. For instance, a scholar in Hubei Province Zhu Zhisan (朱峙三, 1886–1967) confided to his diary the joy of reading Guocui xuebao. He was impressed by the artistic beauty and academic quality of the journal. At the same time, he was surprised that the Qing government did not suppress the journal for its blatant anti-Manchuism. See Zhu Zhisan 2010: 225, 245. 43 For Henri Lefebvre, there are three meanings of space: spatial practice (material space like land and buildings), the representation of space (the shape and style of archi- tecture and interior decoration), and the space of representation (the formation of a discourse). For the three meanings of space, see Lefebvre 1991: 26–46. For the significance of Lefebvre’s three meanings of space to the global economy and capitalistic production, see Harvey 2009: 133–165. memories of resistance 111

As late-Qing China was being transformed into a nation-state with a robust print capitalism, the literati-cum-intellectuals believed that they would be the new leaders of the country because of their artistic sensi- tivity, classical knowledge, historical consciousness, printing technology, and above all, their global vision informed by the Chinese unique temporality in social evolution. Through exercising “the power of the press,” they would be political theorists, social leaders, and educators in bringing China into the modern age.

Conclusion

Lost in Transition

By reinterpreting history, the Guocui xuebao writers prescribed a unique path for China’s modernity. First, they accepted Sino-Babylonianism as a means for paying tribute to China’s early achievements, particularly its spectacular transformation from hunting and gathering to large-scale agriculture. Second, they adopted Yan Fu’s argument that the Zhou dynasty was the pinnacle of ancient China when the country was on its way to becoming the first nation-state in the world. Third, they created a historical narrative of the “Dark Ages” (second century BCE to nineteenth century CE) when China fell behind the rest of the world due to the oppression of absolute monarchy. Fourth, they promoted a memory of resistance in order to mobilize the educated elite to end the imperial system. Combining these four themes, they supported a “revolution as restoration” in which the political system of the Western Zhou would be the basis for a new Chinese nation in the twentieth century. For them, the goal of revolution as restoration was to accelerate the process of China’s social evolution after it had been stagnant for two thousand years. Central to this notion of revolution as restoration was the assumption that the educated elite would be the de facto leaders of the country in its renewed efforts to catch up with the world. While this assumption was rooted in the politics of early twentieth-century China, it was also based on the traditional concept of “the four groups of people” (simin 四民) that privileged the learned community over other social groups such as farmers, artisans, and merchants. As literati-cum-intellectuals, the Guocui xuebao writers saw themselves as the twentieth-century “scholar-officials” who would advise the government, educate young citizens, serve as public intellectuals, and lead local organizations in cities, towns, and villages. In their minds, their classical learning and ornate style of writing—both essential to passing the civil service examinations—would continue to be precious cultural capital in the postimperial age. Paradoxically, while the Guocui xuebao writers looked forward to their leadership in the new Chinese nation, they clung to the old social system of the imperial period. But at the height of the heroic exuberance of the New Policies, the Guocui xuebao writers did find plenty of opportunities to insert themselves in 114 conclusion public debates. Their rapid rise to prominence convinced them that they had insurmountable advantages over other social groups. First, as peripheral literati, they shared the cultural values and the genteel decorum of scholar-officials who initiated and supervised many political and social reforms. They found that many of the scholar-officials not only respected their opinions but also adopted their views in launching the New Policies. Second, as experienced cultural producers in the print market, they had access to the “power of the press” that reached thousands of readers with one stroke. The booming print market seemed to favor their unique mix- ing of classical learning and political commentary. Third, as outsiders of the existing power structure, they had the moral authority to ask for radical change and the justification for speaking for the public. Of the various social groups, they were the unquestioned spokesmen of the nation. For these reasons, the Guocui xuebao writers were full of confidence and hope in supporting both the New Policies and the anti-Manchu revolution. Seemingly contradictory, they supported the New Policies (especially the national school system and local self-government) to mobilize the Chinese to join the anti-Manchu revolution. Conversely, they supported the anti-Manchu revolution to complete the goal of the New Policies of building a social and political infrastructure for a new Chinese nation. In their minds, the New Policies might be launched by the Qing government, but they were in fact the foundation of the new Chinese nation. In the 1900s, having enjoyed so much success in shaping public debates, the Guocui xuebao writers never questioned whether the role of the educated elite would be diminished in China’s transition to the nation-state. In their minds, the old concept of the four groups of people would be basically intact, except that the intellectuals—with strong ties to print capitalism and the national school system—would replace the literati as the new leaders of the country. For them, the abolition of the civil service examinations in 1905 was a blessing because it gave them a rare opportunity to turn their peripheral status into an asset for social and political advancements. Yet, as Luo Zhitian (羅志田) has pointed out, the abolition of the examination system set off a chain of events that undermined the four groups of people.1 Contrary to the expectations of many Qing reformers, the abolition of the examinations not only changed the selection of government officials, but also triggered a major social transformation by

1 Luo Zhitian 2001: 1–17. lost in transition 115 redefining the relative power of various groups. More significantly, the abolition of the examinations did not help to recruit more qualified and reliable officials to run the government; instead, it caused tremendous confusion in selecting officials.2 For the educated elite, one major change after the abolition of the examinations was that they lost their access to political power when classical learning was no longer linked to appointments in government.3 Worst still, the assumption that the educated elite would benefit from the national school system was proven wrong when many of them failed to find jobs in the newly built schools or the expanding textbook industry.4 A case in point is the bitter experience of the leaders of the Association for the Preservation of National Learning. First, their once ambitious plan to open a “school of national learning” (guoxue xuetang 國學學堂) was quickly aborted due to low enrollment.5 Second, their bold attempt to dominate the textbook market became a total failure when they could not compete with the Commercial Press in funding, printing technology, editorial support, and marketing skills.6 These missteps and failures show that the transition from literati to intellectual was by no means smooth, and the supposed continuity in the four groups of people was unwar- ranted. More importantly, the literati-cum-intellectuals found out that they had neither the expertise nor the experience to deal with the boom and bust of a market economy. To make matters worse, the success of the 1911 Revolution cut short the late Qing experiments in constitutional monarchy and local self- government. As is well known, the unplanned 1911 Revolution not only caught many revolutionaries off guard, it also started a decade of political instability by dividing China into two halves: the north under Yuan

2 Ibid.: 1–7. 3 The diary of Liu Dapeng (劉大鵬, 1857–1942) provides a glimpse of the shock of examination candidates after the examination system was abolished. For a detailed study of Liu’s diary, see Luo Zhitian 1999: 161–190; Harrison 2005: 21–50. 4 The textbook industry became increasingly competitive because of the lucrative profit. Major presses (e.g., the Commercial Press) dominated the market with international financial support, advanced printing technology, and state-of-the-art editing. See Dai 2000: 7–26; Li Jiaju 2005: 27–34; Li Renyuan 2005: 213–287. 5 The plan to establish a school of national learning was announced in 1907, but it never materialized due to low enrollment. For the original plan, see Guocui xuebao 26 (1907): sheshuo, 1a–4b. 6 In the early 1900s, the Commercial Press monopolized the textbook industry with its collaboration with the Japanese publisher Kinkodo (金港堂). See Tarumoto 2000: 148–201; Li Jiaju 2005: 50–60; Li Renyuan 2005: 281–284; Huters 2008: 27–50. 116 conclusion

Shikai and his Beiyang warlords, and the south under Sun Yat-sen and his reorganized Guomindang.7 The rivalry between the two Chinese governments wiped out the “middle realm” that had emerged in the late Qing and put the military generals fully in charge of national politics. Instead of scholars being ahead of artisans and merchants in the old four groups of people, the new alliance of money and power led to the rapid ascen- dency of warlords, soldiers, bankers, and businessmen—the players who were not supposed to be dominant in the new Chinese nation.8 In this situation, the educated elite quickly became secondary players in national politics. Instead of advising government officials and shaping public opinion, many of them struggled to make ends meet in the commercial print industry or in the ivory tower as professional academicians. Even among the educated elite, a new generation of professional scholars armed with foreign degrees took leadership of the cultural field. As would be shown in the May Fourth New Culture Movement (1915–1925), the new generation of professional scholars pushed aside the former literati-cum-intellectuals by replacing the classical language with the vernacular that became the lingua franca of modernity.9 By the mid-1920s, the political, social, and cultural privileges of the literati-cum-intellectuals disappeared one by one. Except for a few (such as Zhang Taiyan), most of them withdrew from politics, spending time in literature, poetry, painting, and collecting antiques. Obviously the roller-coaster experience caused the literati-cum- intellectuals tremendous frustration. When reviewing the political situation after the 1911 Revolution, the literati-cum-intellectuals had reasons to blame the revolution. In 1918, after meeting Deng Shi for the first time since 1911, Huang Jie wrote a melancholy poem: It is hard to believe that national affairs have deteriorated to such an extent. When you and I were making a distinction between Chinese and aliens, We believed, with our efforts, we could change the country. Sadly, twenty years have gone by, Like the rushing water of a river. My mind is always stirred when hearing the rain and the wind.

7 For the confusion in the early years of the Chinese Republic, see Harrison 2000: 14–92. 8 For the significance of the new alliance of power among warlords, merchants, and local leaders, see Luo Zhitian 1999: 191–241 and Zhang Hao 2002. 9 Chen Jianhua 2008. lost in transition 117

But in our meeting today, we need not express regrets, Because we are still living in a chaotic time.10 When Huang Jie wrote this poem, China had plunged further into political chaos after Yuan Shikai’s 1916 attempt to restore the imperial system. From Huang Jie’s perspective, the 1911 Revolution had not made China into a nation-state. On the contrary, it delayed the process by prematurely ter- minating the New Policies, cutting short the preparation for a parliamentary government, local self-rule, and a public sphere led by the educated elite. As a revolutionary, Huang Jie supported the overthrow of the Qing government, but he was disappointed by the timing of the 1911 Revolution. For him, the presidency of Yuan Shikai and the rise of warlords showed the heavy cost of creating a republic without a republican spirit. This dissatisfaction with the 1911 Revolution continued on in the 1920s and 1930s. For instance, in a well-received book on the history of Chinese culture, Liu Yizheng (柳詒徵, 1880–1956) reiterated Huang Jie’s view. Similar to Huang Jie, Liu was disappointed by the fact that the 1911 Revolution did not bring about a new China as the revolutionaries had promised. On the contrary, things seemed to be getting out of hand. In politics, the Chinese leaders introduced mutually conflicting models such as the presidential system (which gave power to a strong leader) and the congressional system (which emphasized consensus), or a political structure based on a strong center and a political structure based on provincial autonomy. As a result, the more political reform took place in China in the name of advancing the interests of the Chinese people, the more dictatorial the Chinese government became.11 In economics, international trade was favored over self-reliance, and coastal treaty posts received the lion’s share of resources at the expense of small rural towns in the hin- terland. Consequently, resources were directed unceasingly from the hin- terland to coastal cities, and from the coastal cities to the global market monopolized by foreigners.12 Certainly Liu Yizheng was only one of the few lone souls who continued to support revolution as restoration long after Guocui xuebao was

10 The poem was titled “Meeting Qiumei [Deng Shi] in Shanghai” (Hujiang zhong wu Qiumei 滬江重晤秋枚). The poem appears in Liu Sifen 1984: 130. The original is “國事如斯豈所期，當年與子辨華夷。數人心力能回變，廿載流光坐致悲。不反江河仍日下，每聞風雨動吾思。重逢莫作蹉跎語，正為栖栖在亂離。” 11 Liu Yizheng 1928 [1988]: 838–840. For a study of Liu Yizheng’s critique of 1920s China, see Hon 2004. 12 Liu Yizheng 1928 [1988]: 845–863. 118 conclusion forgotten. And yet, the case of Liu Yizheng demonstrates three enduring values of revolution as restoration. First, it is a vision of modernity that gives due attention to China’s unique temporality and trajectory in social evolution. A major characteristic of this vision of modernity is that it accepts the linear progression of humanity, but it asserts China’s par- ticularity by highlighting its stage of development and its own time frame for completing the evolution. In short, it is what Wang Fansen (王汎森) calls an “anti-Western Westernization” whereby China follows the global pattern defined by Western powers but takes a separate route to achieve the same goal.13 This anti-Western Westernization allows revolution as restoration to exist on the fringes of Chinese political discourse even after the Guocui xuebao has been labeled as conservative or reactionary. It also allows revolution as restoration to reappear in various guises when the question of Chinese culture arises (as it did in the 1920s debate between New Youth and Critical Review on the value of classical Chinese and in the 1980s debate on “New National Learning”).14 Although always at the margins of political debates, revolution as restoration highlights the Chinese subjectivity in the global march to modernity. Second, revolution as restoration emphasizes the leading role of the educated elite in the nation’s modernity. On the one hand, as the representatives of the nation, the educated elite are ardent supporters of the state when it protects and preserves the nation. On the other hand, as the spokesmen of the nation, they are staunch critics of the state when it attempts to monopolize political power. With these dual roles, the educated elite are indeed the true successors of the scholar-officials of the imperial age who also split their loyalty between the interests of the people (scholars) and the interests of the government (officials). The creative tension of the dual roles has attracted the attention of some contemporary Chinese intellectuals who suffer from what Yu Yingshi calls “the marginalization of intellectuals.”15 As they combat both the politicization of culture of the one-party state and the commercialization of culture of the market, contemporary Chinese intellectuals are looking for a new image that restores, partly if not fully, the former model of a philosopher-king

13 Wang Fansen 2001: 197–219. In his study of Zhang Taiyan, Viren Murthy explains the anti-Western Westernization in Zhang’s political philosophy. See Murthy 2011: 135–168. 14 For the debate between New Youth and Critical Review, see Hon 2003. For the link between the 1920s debate and the rise of “New National Learning” in the 1980s and 1990s, see Axel Schneider 2001. 15 Yü Yingshi explains the meaning of the “marginalization of intellectuals” in 1992: 33–50. For the significance of Yu Yingshi’s argument, see Luo Zhitian 1999: 1–17. lost in transition 119 who strives to balance the competing claims between autonomy and centralization, diversity and unity, freedom and structure.16 Third, revolution as restoration focuses on an idealized political system of the Western Zhou period. Regardless of its historical authenticity, the Western Zhou system symbolizes the late Qing model of “control-autonomy interaction” wherein the central and local authorities are in perpetual dialogue to reach an optimum balance of power. A major goal of this control-autonomy interaction is to effectively activate local political energy and channel it into the political structure of a centralizing state. Conversely, one of its goals is also to promote local autonomy by developing strong leadership in local areas. Because of the complexity in power sharing, the model of control-autonomy interaction is deliberately vague such that it does not prescribe a particular political structure in regulating the power of central and local authorities. Instead, the control-autonomy interaction model is open ended, providing a platform for negotiation and collaboration between various political players. Whereas the teleology of revolution legitimizes the one-party state, revolution as restoration offers an alternative narrative for a pluralistic form of a political system.17 These three enduring values of revolution as restoration make the vision of modernity of Guocui xuebao as timely today as it was a hundred years ago. When today’s China attempts to include more players and forces, locally and globally, to create its unique form of modernity, it is not surprising to find more scholars and writers interested in various forms of revolution as restoration. As Zheng Shiqu points out, the Guocui xuebao writers will hardly be “dated” (guoshi 過時) in the foreseeable future, because they directly address one of the most perplexing questions of modern China: How can China be both globally competitive and truly unique?18

16 For a study of the major intellectual debates in China since the 1990s, see Xu Jilin and Luo Gang 2007: especially 1–42. 17 Wang Rongzu has used Zhang Taiyan’s political philosophy to reconstruct the alternative political discourse of pluralism. See Wang Rongzu 2008b: 208–243. 18 Zheng Shiqu 1997: 2.

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INDEXES

Absolute monarchy Edkins, Joseph 49 In China 70–71 Examination System Critique of 58–60, 65–6, 69–73, social impact 35–6, 77–82 abolition of 35–7, 82, 114–5 See also Dark Age of Chinese History Anti-western westernization 118 Farewell to revolution 7 Aporia of time 66–7 Fin-de-siècle splendor 29 Association for the Preservation of Four groups of people 8, 28, 113–6 National Learning 19, 37–41, 110–1 Assyriology 50–2 Globe Magazine (Wanguo gongbao) 19 Autocracy Golden Age of Chinese History 69–77 Of the Manchu government 1, 12, 70 Gong (public spirit) 88–91 As political development 95 Great Hanism (Da han zhuyi) 47 See also critique of absolute monarchy Guangfu hui. See Recovery Society Guocui xuebao Babylonian hieroglyphs 49–50 As a text 8, 39–41, 47 Bak tribe 49, 51, 53–4, 58, 64 In historiography 1–15, 117–9 Book of Changes (Yijing) 48, 49, 51, 53, 55 Historical vision 56–73, 97–111 Bourgeoisie democratic revolution 6–7 Relation to social change 33–4, 35–43, Bouvet, Joachim 48–9 73–82 Relation to political change 83–96 Cathay Art Book (Shenzhou guoguangji) 2 Guocui xuebao writers Chen Boyan 40–1 On education 37, 114–5 Chen Qubing 39, 100–1, 103–8 On global network 5–7, 13, 17–34 Chinese mythology 54–5 On history 14–5, 47–8, 56–68, 97–111 Chinese path to modernity 13, 15, 48, On national essence 3–5, 69–73 81–2, 88, 96, 113, 118–9 On political reform 14, 41–6, 69–96 Collected Works of National Essence On publishing 38–9 (Guocui congkan) 38 Members 2, 39 Commercial Press 39, 115 Conservatism 2–3 Harlez, Charles de 52 Control-autonomy interaction 11, 85, 119 Hierarchy in temporality 66–7 Historical memory 97–8 Da han zhuyi. See Great Hanism History of the Yellow (Huang shi) 57–60 Dark Age of Chinese history 69–71, 113, Homogeneous empty time 18 see also absolute monarchy Huang Binhong 2, 39 Deng Shi Huang Jie As a member of the Guocui group 2, As a member of the Guocui group 2, 39, 116–7 39, 116–7 As an editor 9, 107–110 As an editor 9 Writings in Zhengyi tongbao 21–34, Historical writings 57–60, 71 Writings in Guocui xuebao 41–43, 62, Huang Yanpei 82–3, 94 71–72, 78–80, 85–6, 93–4 Hundred Schools 14, 70, 74–77 Ding Qian 56 Discovery of culture 4–6 Imperial learning 13, 77–80 Double bind of recovery and removal 69–71, 113 Jesuit Accommodation 48–9 Douglas, Robert 52 Jian Chaoliang 40, 89 134 indexes

Jiang Shenzhong 94–6 National Essence group. See Guocui xuebao Jiang Zhiyou 55–6 writers. Jiangsu Provincial Education National learning 13, 77–82 Association 37, 84 National school system 9–10, 35–7 Jianzhou garrison 101–3 New Policies 10–11, 15, 20–43, 113–4, 117

Kang Youwei 94–5 “One city, three governments” 21 King Mu of Zhou (Mu Tianzi) 51, 56, 58, “Opening to the Ocean” (hai tong) 20–5 62 Orientalism 47 Kokubu Tanenori 53–56 Power of the press 12, 110–1, 114 Lacouperie, Terrien de 49–52 Print capitalism 9, 12, 18–20, 40 Legge, James 52 Public spirit. See Gong Liang Qichao 17–8, 78–80 Liao Ping 40 Qiu Jin 3, 100 Liu, Lydia 4–6 Liu Shipei Rawlinson, Henry Creswicke 50 As a member of the Guocui group 2, Recovery Society (Guangfu hui) 3, 100 39 Renaissance Historical writings 62–6, 74–6, 82, 87, A cultural revival 71–2 91–93, 99–100, 102–3 A literary movement 71 Role in collecting documents 110 A social-political change 75 Liu Yazi 100, 104–5 A symbol of rebirth 105–7 Liu Yizheng 117 Revival of ancient learning 2, 6, 69–73, Local self-government 14, 83–96 93–4 Revolution Ma Xulun 1, 18, 39, 86–91 As restoration 12–5, 113, 117–8 May Fourth New Culture Movement 1, Teleology of 1–2, 7, 15 116 Revolutionary historiography 1–3, 7 Measurement of civilization 10 Meiji Japan 5, 28 Sayer, A.C. 50 Memory of resistance Schlegel, Gustave 52 Practice 97, 111, 113 Schneider, Laurence 3–4, 6 Theory 98 Schwartz, Benjamin 4, 6 Mesopotamia Science of history 50, 51, 53 Cuneiform inscription 49–51 Shenzhou guoguang ji. See Cathay Art Relation to China 47–9, 54–60 Book Middle realm 10–13, 29, 46, 116 Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian) Min bao (People’s Journal) 3, 14, 97–105 54, 61–2 Ming loyalism 105–8 Shina bunmeishi 53–6 Ming-Qing transition 15, 97–8, 105–8 Shirakawa Jirō 53–6 Mobilization by writing 14, 97–8 Sima Qian 54, 61–2 Mu Tianzi. See King Mu of Zhou Sino-Babylonianism Mu Tianzi zhuan 51, 56, 58 As a political theory 57–60, 64–6 Myth of nation-state 9–10 As a social theory 60–63 In China 55–6 Nan she. See Southern Society In Europe 48–52 Nation-state In Japan 53–5 As a pair 1, 9–10, 12 Response to aporia of time 66–7 Chinese discourse of 10–11 Southern Ming Meaning of the nation 1, 12 History 103–5 Relation to capitalism 8–12 In fiction 104–5 National Essence (Guocui) 2, 4–6, 69, Southern Society (Nan she) 3, 100 81–2 Sun Yat-sen 3, 6, 7, 116 indexes 135

Sun Yirang 40, 89 Xiangsui. See Village-district system “Surpass Europe and America” (ling’ou Xu Shouwei 72–3, 109 jiamei) 20 Xu Xilin 3, 100

Tao Chengzhang 100, 102–3 Yan Fu Technology transfer 12–3 On social evolution 30–4, 40, 48, 113 Time-space compression 17 Shehui tongquan 30–4, 48 Tradition-modernity dichotomy 1–2 Tianyan lun 25 Traditionalists 2 Yellow Emperor Transnational network 5 Leader of transcontinental migration 5, 51, 54, 57, 60–2 Village-district system (xiangsui) Mission of his descendants 57–8 As part of the Qing reforms 83, 93–6 Yijing. See Book of Changes Limits in practice 94 Yü, Ying-shih (Yu Yingshi) 4–6 Original form in Western Zhou 91–3 Yu Yingshi (Yü, Ying-shih) 8n, 118 Yuan Shikai 83, 115–7 Wang Jingwei 97 Wang Kaiyun 40, 89 Zhang Jian 41, 83, 94 Wanguo gongbao. See Globe Magazine Zhang Taiyan Western Origin of the Early Chinese As a member of the Guocui group 1–2, Civilization 49 39, 116 Historical writings 58–63, 76–77, 82, Xi Wang Mu 99 As a Chaldean goddess 56 Zhang Zhidong 42–43 As a geographical term 51–2, 56 Zheng Shiqu 2n, 3n, 5–7, 69, 119 As “Royal Mother of the West” 51 Zhengyi tongbao 9, 21–30 As “the queen” of a kingdom 56 Zhongguo renzhong kao 55–56